Happy Birthday To LifePrints - My Little Bloggy Is One!

Last spring my husband said, "This guy at work say it's possible to make tons of money with a blog. Why don't you think about starting one." Filled with visions of millions of Google Adsense dollars I went on a learning binge to figure out what the blogging hype was all about. Within a few weeks, my brainchild, LifePrints was born. So much easier and faster than the creation of my other children! That took nine months and some hard labor at the end.

A year later, I can proudly say that I love my little bloggy. She doesn't make me much money. Adsesnse will never pay my bills and I don't care. It's okay because what I've gained by spending time with 'her' is so much more valuable than ad clicks. My fellow writer/bloggers probably get understand thise but for those who are shaking their heads, let me explain...

Because of LifePrints and it's focus on the positive, my world view has slowly shifted from 'we are hopelessly doomed" to "wow! we can make this work if we just try". Because of my constant search for topics and people to write about I always have my ear to the ground for the good things in life. That's a huge paradigm shift for me.

When I wrote about the maimed children of Sierra Leone I cried as I typed and when I wrote about the fun of spontaneous pillow fights, I laughed out loud and couldn't wait to attack my brood with a big fluffy one when they walked in the door. Writing for my blog has opened my eyes to different views of the world and all the emotions that come along with them.

I now have friends and collegues all over the world. My favorites are in Malta, Paris, Perth, New York, Virginia, California, and Illinois. And some I'd like to put on this list but I'm not sure where they live. Someday I hope to meet a few of them in person and thank them for their kindness and generosity of spirit.

Constantly writing articles forces me to hone my skills, not the least of which are the research and development of ideas. Even though I've cut back on how often I post these days, I look forward to each and every time I sit down with LifePrints. I'm pushing 200 posts in my archives and I'm proud of the quality I've produced so far.

I love my readers and the interactions with them. I love comments, so please leave more and more. The back and forth flow of ideas is facinating to me. Blog Catalog sends many of you my way. They are an energetic bunch and I am happy to be part of that community. For those of you who find me by accident, thank you for reading and bless you heart. I'm sure you were surprised if you were searching for an article about "homemade plasma gasifiers". or "think thank thunk". Don't laugh, some poor soul ended up here using those search terms. All I can say is I hope you come back again.

If you have ideas for posts or know someone doing a good turn for the world, please let me know. I'd love to hear about them. I hope to keep my little bloggy alive for many years to come and if 'her'growth in one year is any indication of the future, it will be an exciting ride filled with many opportunities....and I don't mean big checks from adsense. Sorry Google, I love you but....

Happy Birthday to my little 'girl'. She's not a baby any more!

"All Things Temporary" - Confessions Of A Young Foster Mother

Greetings from Mars -

Some couples create gobs of children and plaster the hallways of their homes from ceiling to floor with school pictures. Others thrive on quiet and solitude with one child as the focus of their energy.

I've met screaming families who would argue about the color of butter, but whose genuine love and deep loyalty kept them afloat during all manner of disease and heartache. I've met siblings that appeared loving but in actuality had swallowed gallons of anger until the day one of them burst into a murderous rage over funeral decisions for their dead mother.

Entering foster care exposed a different side of family life, a side where parents beat children senseless for wetting the bed. In this world, mothers twisted little boys' arms to the point of breaking them and fathers tore their daughters apart from the inside out with cutting words and deadly insults. Still, I'd never seen a family like Sandy's.

We officially met Darryl and Maricela Hooper on November 14th in a mediation room at the Laramie County courthouse. When they walked in the door, I recognized them right away because Maricela sported the same high-heeled boots she'd worn to the mall on Halloween.

Watching Darryl Hooper's precise demeanor reminded me of Sandy's comments at the dinner table. In the past weeks, she'd worked to make a connection with Raymond by discussing her father's military career. To me she'd said, "My dad's from Georgia just like you."

Darryl nodded to Jenny and Mrs. Benefield. Before sitting down, he leaned across the table and shook hands with Raymond. "Pleasure to meet you," he greeted my husband. And like a southern man should, he pulled out a chair for his wife.

Sandy's mother might well be crazy, but as I suspected, she possessed the same timeless, exotic beauty as her daughter. Maricela crossed her arms and slid into the seat. When she did, she seemed to shrink, to fold in on herself like origami. I wondered if I should reach out to her; introduce myself as the woman who'd stepped into her maternal shoes. Unable to act, I took a deep breath and somewhere in the middle of my exhaling, Mrs. Benefield spoke up.

She clasped her hands and rested them on the table in front of her stately bosom. "We all know why we're here. When a child has been a ward of the state for one year, there is a case review meeting between all parties involved. This is Sandy's review."

Sandy's father interrupted, "I got something to say before we go any further. My wife and I won't be takin' the girl back."

"Mr. Hooper…"

"Nope. No use in talkin' about it. We've made up our minds. You just go on and do what ever it is you plan to do. That'll be fine with us."

"Mr. Hooper, reunification is the state's ultimate goal. I'm compelled to ask why you don't want to be reunited with your daughter." Mrs. Benefield leaned forward. Her fingertips had turned white as if she were channeling her frustration into her clenched hands.

Darryl pushed back from the table. "Come on Maricela. We've said what we needed to say." Maricela unfolded from the chair, preparing to walk out with her husband.

"Sandy can't stay in foster care forever," Jenny blurted out.

Darryl turned to Jenny and pushed his thumbs into the pockets of his crisp Wrangler jeans, preparing for a showdown. "Won't be forever. She'll be grown soon." Before any of us could scream out in protest, he pulled the door closed behind them.

I held my breath and watched the door. For a moment, the knob seemed suspended in mid-turn. I wondered if the Hoopers wished to hit the rewind button and change the decisions that would surely follow. But, the lock slipped into place and the sharp click of boots on tile could be heard as Sandy's mother left the building.
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What you've just read is an excerpt from my memoir "All Things Temporary".

Earth Hour - Missed It? Plan for March 29, 2009

This is a picture of Sydney, Australia during Earth Hour 2008. This past Saturday in cities and towns around the world people turned off their lights for one hour. The global warming awareness event was sponsored by WWF, the world wildlife fund.

At 8pm our local time my husband threw the breaker switch on our house and we went off-grid for Earth Hour. At first my son complained about missing the Nickelodeon Kids Choice Awards and sulked on the couch. My youngest jumped up and down with excitement over sitting in the dark in the backyard. He thought it would be fun.

After a heated and hilarious debate about the amount of carbon emissions it would create we decided start a small fire in our chimenea and convinced our son to come outside and enjoy the fire. It turned out to be a relaxing hour spent talking and joking. We ate dinner by firelight and enjoyed each others undivided attention.

I don't know how much our effort helped to stem the tide of global warming. I'm sure it was nothing more than a drop in the bucket but that's okay. It gave us a reason to slow down. As I watched the sparks from the fire mingle with the starry sky, I said a little prayer that our children will have a healthy world to grow old in.

I wouldn't mind doing a power-free hour like this more often. I wonder what would happen if my whole neighborhood went off-grid for an hour or my entire community. Not only would we make a noticeable dip at the power plant but we might all be happier after an hour spent with the people we love.