So I was in Albuquerque, NM recently and was taking a walk and I started thinking about a sermon that Bill Johnson from Bethel Church in Redding, California had preached on about signs and wonders. He talked about the Glory Cloud that previously had appeared at Bethel during one of their evening services. I’ve viewed the video on other blogs and every time I watch it, I get so excited at just the thought that the Lord would do it again. Every time I sat in that area of the church where it happened, I always look up expectantly, hoping, believing. Bill then started talking about angel feathers and how once he was at a restaraunt and while the waitress was taking their order, all of a sudden a feather fell. The waitress says “Is that a feather?!” Bill goes “yeah.” I’m smiling as I reminisce about his sermon and right then, I see a feather on the ground. A long feather. Not white, but kind of gray in color and big and for some reason that I couldn’t explain then, nor can I explain now as to why, but I looked up, and right up there in the clear blue New Mexico sky, floating down slowly like a falling leaf, was a small, white, fluffy feather. For the scoffer, I can only say that yes there were trees around, though I was not walking under them and there probably was a bird that flew by and the feather was falling coincidentally as a result at the exact time I was walking there and reminiscing about Bill’s talk. Probably one could find a myriad of explanations. But I need none. I was not the least bit surprised at seeing it. Not even a tiny bit. I was amazed. I then forget all about the feather and began to think at that moment how great God is. Truly and wonderfully great. I smile and thank God for reminding me that signs and wonders follow them that believe. And I do. 
Crowdfunding. Traveling But In Another Form.
So I have finally joined the world of Twitter. I have also joined the word of crowdfunding. There are reasons for both. Very good reasons. So, here we go.
Indiegogo is a crowdfunding platform, one of many, that helps you set up your campaign, provides the ways and means of making it global so you can reach the world around you. Because it’s internet based, you have access to all those eyes out there, millions and millions of eyes reading your campaign and partnering with you to help you reach your goal and tip your bucket from empty to, well, hopefully overflowing.
With all those people out there, someone’s bound to find your campaign plea, right? Well, yes. But then again, no. There’s a lot of work that you have to do to turn those eyes your direction. While the Internet is global, your campaign is just one grain of sand in a sea of millions and millions of sand of essentially the same color. How do you get your sand to stand out? To be a different color? To move from the bottom of the ocean to the top of the beach? How do you get noticed?
First, you gotta have a story. People love a story. They love a good story. Take the Olympics for example. You don’t just get the boring stats of the contenders, you get a story from their life. My friend Derek Parra won a Gold Medal at the 2002 Winter Olympics. Watching the broadcast, I heard Derek’s story. My parents heard his story. Instant fame in my family. I knew him and his then wife, Tiffany. My parent’s didn’t. That didn’t matter. His story reached their ears and their heart. A connection was made. An interest was stirred. That’s what you want your story to do. Bring you from obscurity to the limelight. You need a story.
Use a video to tell your story rather than just text or images. Statistics suggest that people prefer video rather than pictures. Campaigns with pitch videos raise 115% more than campaigns that use pictures. Campaigns offering perks raise 143% more than those who do not. And while 17% of all statistics are made up, those numbers could be stacked in your favor, or not.
Your perks should be creative and progressive. By that I mean that you start out with 10% off a certain item if they donate a certain amount all the way up to possibly offering concert tickets to U2 front row if they donate a larger amount. You could also throw in a back stage pass and perhaps a handshake from Bono.
Because you want to go global, it also helps to have a network in place so your campaign can reach those “millions of eyes” that I mention above. Facebook, Twitter and other social media are strongly suggested.
So, I’ve joined Twitter. Which is a very different world from Facebook. My impression of Twitter is movers and shakers with these quirky one or two-liners with hashtags and tons and tons of followers. Let’s face it, you want people to see your stuff. I mean, that’s the point, right? To have something to say to people who want to hear it? Well, they may not want to hear it, but you want to say it.
Here’s a better picture of why social medial is so important in the world of crowdfunding and to the scope of how many people you can reach on platforms like Twitter. Justin Bieber has over 54 million followers. My dear friend Diana has over 3000 followers while I have 20. But someone who just started following me has 26,000 followers. So my small social world just started growing. Hello little grain of sand moving to the top of the beach!
BTW, I’ve actually held Derek’s gold medal. Now that’s a story and a really good one, but perhaps another time.
No Way Am I Gonna Wear a Hat
“Let’s try them on.” I give a girly snort, roll my eyes and then a little bit of sweat beads up on my upper lip. I don’t like hats. I look utterly ridiculous in them. Thanks to DNA and the Lord’s preference for me, I have a flat head.
My oldest brother dumped a container of baby powder on top of my head when we were kids and as my mother tells the story, she came into the room to find me in my crib and my brother holding the empty baby powder bottle.
And while I do believe my mother, every time she tells the story, my mind always drifts to wondering, how did he got the lid off? I have no pictures of proof that this actually happened, just Helga’s accounting of the story. Helga’s my mom by the way.
The story goes that all she could see were my eyes and a pyramid-shaped powder mountain on top of my head. Seriously, none of it like rolled off or drifted away or something?
Now where was I? Yeah, hats. About the only hat I can wear and not scare small children is a cowboy hat and living in Florida, I can tell you there’s not many occasions when I can pull that one off. Though fashion here is relative. Ugg boots in the summer with shorts….it happens all the time. So a cowboy hat wouldn’t be outside the realm of possibility.
Getting back to my friend, she pulls out her phone to take some selfies of us and I quickly take my silly little hat off. It was a pill hat and had black mesh netting that you pull down over your face and it rests delicately under your chin.
Ridiculous. I shove mine back on the hat rack and distract her with a suggestion of a smoothie or a croissant or whatever. C’mon. You know that picture would be all over Instagram then Facebook. Then Helga would see it. She knows I don’t like hats and she knows why. She’d put the baby powder story on Facebook.
I did wear a hat once. A few years ago I was in Northwest China on a trekking trip. I had very short hair then, but no showers for 5 days and I knew there’d be pictures. So I wore a hat. A cowboy hat that I bought at the airport. I do have a picture of me in it and because I want to blog about life and life’s adventures, I dug it up. And because you care to read my stuff, I’ll share it.
That’s me, fifth from the front. 😉
What Puts Joy In Your Heart?
What makes you happy? Money? Being famous? Filling your closet or garage with things?
I was thinking about this very question this morning and some things that make me happy came to my mind and if you care to know, here they are in no particular order:
Eating Popsicles and ice cream.
Going to a movie.
Hanging out with friends at a new restaurant.
Hanging out with friends at an old restaurant.
Trying something new, which would be categorized as anything I haven’t done already, so nothing in particular here.
Riding my bike.
Listening to anything from Bethel.
A sunny day.
Hearing my mom’s voice.
Not driving around on I-4 in my car.
Discovering a new perfume.
Cooking with fresh herbs and deglazing the pan with really good Sherry. Mainly because I like telling people that I deglazed the pan with Sherry. It just sounds good.
Telling people that I once ate a 100-year old egg and watching the look on their face.
Seeing a child smile.
Taking a really good picture on my iPhone.
The invention of GPS.
Traveling. Anywhere. Any time. Rainy or not. Just traveling.
Hanging out with my family any time, any day, anywhere.
Loving God with all my heart. That’s it. That’s the best joy ever.
Those things put a smile on my face and joy in my heart. It’s not money or even the thought of money. It’s not fame or even the thought of fame. It’s not worldly possessions or the lack of them.
It’s the simple things in life that if we can’t enjoy them, we won’t enjoy anything.
The Turtle
Families can be funny. Not in the laughing sort of way, but more to say in a family dynamic sort of way.
My dad wasn’t the most warm, loving person when we were growing up. But he was a good provider, took us on vacation every year, always made sure we had food on the table, clothes on our back and shoes on our feet. Dad was an avid traveler. He showed us the world. It was, I think, one of the things I Ioved most about him. I was as close with dad as he would, or could allow me emotionally.
When he passed 2 years ago, it was completely unexpected. He wasn’t sick, but he wasn’t in the best of health either. He had a myriad of issues, not the least of which was he never exercised and if ever he used the word exercise in a sentence, the word “hate” was sure to precede it or follow it.
A short time before he passed, we were hanging out in South Dakota with my younger brother, Rich, his wife Cortney and my mom. We were painting pottery. Dad preferred to watch, though Rich invited him several times to help him paint his pottery, which was a little turtle. Dad continued to refuse Rich’s prompting to help saying that his hands weren’t very steady and he was afraid of messing it up.
Rich continued to pursue dad’s help and finally, dad pick up a paint brush. This whole day is seared in my memory banks for some reason. I think because we were happy living life with each other, enjoying each other’s company and with no thought really about anything beyond that event.
When dad died, Rich spoke at his funeral and wrote one of the most beautiful, poignant memories that I have of dad. I’m sharing it below. I didn’t get Rich’s permission, but somehow I don’t think he’ll mind.
“When I last saw dad, he and mom had brought Rose out to stay with us in Rapid City, and even though our home is comfortable, I am sure that he was not. There was no Nash Metropolitan to work on or news to watch; nothing to take his mind from his considerable pain. But one day during his visit, we went for a ride amid the piney hills, on a windy road and dad was good. Later, we went to a place where we could pick out some pottery and paint it ourselves. I chose a turtle. Dad helped me to pick out the colors; they were deep blues and greens, kept separate by lines of gold. Dad painted some lines for me and apologized for their imperfections. The lines were fine with me then as they still are now, but today I treasure them. Those lines are a symbol of our father; imperfect but still gold. Dad was (both) great and terrible, (both) charitable and ruthless, imperfect and yet gold.”
I loved my dad and I miss him. Every day. Not in a painful, mournful kind of way, but in a way that you miss anyone that is not a part of your life any longer. Why am I writing this blog? I don’t know. I just thought about the turtle the other day and wanted to write about it. And write about dad. And about life and how funny it is.
Amargosa Valley, NV ~ Big Dune
On Highway 95 about 100 miles outside of Las Vegas, there’s a big sand dune appropriately called Big Dune.
Making the 3000+ miles back to Florida alone and getting tired of my own company, I was running out of creative ways to entertain myself. Desert all around me, no cars or trucks to speak of for miles The landscape is incredibly impressive. Then I spot it. A mountain made of sand. What?! Blink. Blink.
Florida is so flat and really doesn’t offer much in the way of changing landscape, so this was a cherry pie in a room full of apple pies.
A change. Something different. A big pile of sand. I had no idea there was a way to get over to it. Until eventually you see it. A small sign announcing “Big Dune.”
Of course, there was no way I wasn’t going to stop. I get off the highway to turn onto a dirt road that hadn’t been groomed recently. In fact, probably never. The cowboys and indians made this road back in the day. It was bumpy, full of water divets and bumpy grooves running horizontally making my Fiat bump around like popcorn in a bag in the microwave.
I had to drive 3-4 miles per hour and navigated to both the right and left and sometimes straight down the middle to avoid bigger bumps. At this rate, I’d get to the dune sometime after midnight. Sigh. Yes, I bugged out. I quit. I gave up and headed back to the highway.
Sometimes, the adventure is getting to the destination and sometimes the adventure is the destination. But, I did get a picture and that was good enough for me.
Cross Country Drive
I recently made a trip from Redding, CA back to DeBary, FL. I drove my little red Fiat 500 loaded with all my worldly possessions. Alone. Instead of driving the 3000+ miles back-to-back, which would have taken 4 days, I chose to drive only on Saturdays and/or Sundays and stay with family during the week.
Which turned out great for me. I have family scattered all over the United States and it gave me a chance to catch up with them and see how they do life in their neck of the world.
I stopped just west of Flagstaff in one of the worst hotels I have ever stayed in. Ever. I stayed in better hotels in China and India. But I was road-weary and had enough of the car-sway feeling in my head for the day. My room smelled like something I couldn’t identify at all. The carpets were completely disgusting. The drapes had stains on them and the bathroom had “towels” that were more like rags you use in your garage and they smelled like they had been used to mop up spilled milk and left to dry in the sun. Gross and disgusting.
But my mama didn’t raise a whimp. Besides that, and to be perfectly honest, I wanted to blog about the experience. I am a self-proclaimed snob. And I find that I have to get over myself and just deal with it. I mean really.
Next stop, Albuquerque to stay with my cousin Barbara and her daughter, Tori. Barb’s a hoot, though she thinks everyone else is funny. We went to Chili’s for dinner and had drinks. Both Barb and I ordered the Mudslide. I didn’t think there was any alcohol in there at all, to which Tori said “that’s funny. You just ordered an expensive chocolate shake.” Smart aleck. But a truly smart one.
Drove a day to my next stop of Temple, TX to stay with my brother, Tom and his wife, Barbara. We had a great time eating, laughing and sampling pizzas and Texas BBQ, which was such fun. They know how to have a good time. There was absolutely no pressure to go anywhere or do anything. We just hung out and talked. It was so restful and relaxing. Really a good, good time.
From there, I made the drive North to Irving, TX to stay with my cousin, Jeannette and her daughter, Ericka and her husband, Erin where they introduced me to more reality TV than I even knew existed. My cousin, Barbara, accused them of corrupting me, but we had a great time. We visited Pinot’s Palette in Dallas for a night of painting and finding out that we are all a bit OCD when it comes to details.
Next stop, New Orleans, LA where I stopped at the French Market for crawfish etouffee and then off to Cafe Du Monde for cafe au lait and beignets. My driving couldn’t have been timed more perfectly. As I was pulling up to the cafe, someone was pulling out of their parking spot and I zipped right in. It’s definitely in my favor to have a car that’s only 5 feet long.
I drove the rest of the day hoping to get a hotel in Tallahassee, which was not gonna happen. Due to spring break and the fact that there’s really nothing in this area of Florida, I had a hard time finding a hotel. I got off on 5 different exits only to find no rooms available. It was like being with Mary and Joseph trying to find a room at the inn. Nobody had anything.
I was going to give up and just sleep in my car in the parking lot of Walmart when I found a Super 8 with 1 room. Smoking room, but I didn’t care. It had a bed and a shower. Good enough for me.
As time goes by, I am more and more aware that life is full of memories. Good ones. Bad ones. But the best ones, to me, are the ones that even though they are unexpected and not the best, making the choice to just roll with them makes them the best ones. That and any memory that involves family. Even if it’s just sitting on the couch, watching reality TV and eating pizza. Those are the best.
Sunflowers in a field and Chigger bites
I document about 99% of my life while traveling. Sometimes I just don’t stop because I have to keep going or I’ll never reach my destination. And for the most part, I have had no regrets on my decisions to either stop or continue on…….until recently.
Driving from Temple, TX to Irving, TX on I-35E, I see a beautiful field of sunflowers and I wasn’t alone. There was a queue of cars strung along the road. I could see people walking through the grass to get to the field. Some were actually standing in the sunflowers.
How often does one get to walk through a field of sunflowers? Not to pass by an opportunity to have some fun myself, I zip my car into a vacant space, turn on my flashers, lock the door and make my way to the field. I find my space and start taking pictures. I’m all smiles.
Happy with my selfies, I get back in the car and head down the highway. I get to my destination, hang out with family and later that night, while in bed, I notice I am uncomfortable. And itchy. And annoyed.
By the next day, I have huge red, itchy welts on my left thigh and in private areas which I dare not mention.
…..I now can add regret to my list of stops. What was a whimsical fun stop turned into a huge regret. I’m not smiling now.
Trip from California to Florida
So I am making the trip home, me, my Fiat 500 comfortably loaded for safety, I make the drive. First real bona fide stop, Hoover Dam. I drove right through Vegas. I stayed there on the way out to CA as I had never been there before, did a little gambling, which was no fun. I wanted a bucket to put my pennies in. No. You have to get a card. Takes the fun out of it somehow.
Though I do stop at the Hoover Dam. I’m so excited to view this incredible wonder. It’s a beautiful, hot, sunny day. I walked across the dam from Arizona side to the Nevada side and I must be honest, I didn’t know one could do that.
I see some Tibetan Monks on the dam and a fellow tourist asked if he could have a photo with them. This same gentleman asked me to take some photos of him on the dam, which I happily obliged.
Back inside my now 100+ degree car, I drive back across the dam to head to the highway when the gentleman I took pictures of was now videoing. I honk and wave. He turns his camera on me as I slowly drive by and give an exuberant wave. What a fun day! Thank you God for this experience.
Friends Past, Present, and Future
I’ve traveled most of my life. Military dad. Every 3 years or so, sometimes only 6 weeks at a location, we would move, settle in, get comfortable and then move. It’s been my existence all my life. Even into adulthood. I travel on my own now. It’s only been recently that I’ve realized my pattern. About 3 or 4 years into my life after a move, I get itchy feet. Living in Florida for the past 25 years (off and on for the past 3 years) and I have put down roots – somewhat.
…and because of my traveling, I’ve made friends, some of whom I am still friends with today. Sometimes people come in your life that you meet along the way and they’re there for that chapter of your life and some you meet and they stay. Which sometimes boggles my mind because once they get to know me, they find out that I’m not all that, but when they want to remain my friend even after getting to know me, well, that’s it. We’re friends for life.
Some friends you hear from regularly, some only periodically, which is perfectly acceptable to me, as long as I know that they know that I still love them and value them. When they call or shoot an email or text, we pick up right where we left off. No uncomfortable silences on the phone waiting for the other to speak. Knowing that you’ve got their back and they’ve got yours is, to me, a great comfort.
My dear friend Joan is one of those people. I first met Joan in 1997 when we went to China to teach English. We first met at Azusa Pacific University in LA where we roomed together for 1 week then off to Beijing for the next week for training then off to our city for the next 8 weeks. Joan was an elderly woman who had lovely pink/gray hair who always wore skirts and skipped when she walked.
Joan never had an enemy in all her life. She’s the sweetest, kindest soul. Loves everyone and never has anything bad to say about anyone – and by anyone, I mean anyone.
I recently visited her in the Bay Area a few weeks ago and prior to that, hadn’t seen her since we left China, but like true gold, it keeps its value and even increases over time. We picked up right where we left off. She’s a true friend and one whom will be welcome at my door any time on any occasion, announced or unannounced. Because she would do the same for me. My hat is off, held to my chest and with a little bow, I say “Hello my dear friend.”
pearlsandjeans 