Rene's Creative Writing Blog

A Novel Approach

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 19:45:00 +0000

My First Novel

I have recently published my first novel, "Rescued." I started writing this book ten years ago when an idea came to me after reading a book by Mary Higgins Clark. The book evolved over two years and in 2004, an agent from Georgia said he'd be happy to take me as a client. He sent out the manuscript and after a year when he couldn't lure a publisher, discouraged, I put the book aside. In early 2005, I rewrote the book again, this time approaching publishers directly. I followed the format for the Harlequin Intrigue" series, but received rejection letters as it didn't meet Harlequin's rigid standards. It's true what they say about those rejections.

In August, 2006 I became a grandmother and my world changed dramatically, the book went on the back burner again, but it was a loose end that I wanted to finish. I had a great story, so when a friend suggested I try self-publishing, I rewrote the book for the fifth time last November, and got the Lulu.com
account all set up, but then the holidays came and went and afterward, I couldn't get motivated to write. Before I knew it, summer was here again and I got busy with my furniture restoration. Then in July, I began doing some freelance writing which motivated me to pick up the book again and this time, get it done! I knew it was now or never, so I got to it.

Finally, this September, 2012, I got back to "Rescued," rewrote and edited it with a vengeance, and was determined not to stop until it was finished. It was an enormous undertaking, because I not only wrote a book, I built a book. I designed the cover and assembled the pages, so I'm responsible for it all, content, typos and design. My many years experience as a graphic designer was an asset. I wanted the cover design to jump off the shelves (or a web page). The photo ties in nicely with my story.

Dayton, Ohio: Carrie Reynolds, an attractive twenty-seven-year old paralegal, gets "rescued" by the handsome auto-restoration expert, Jake McKenna. Carrie has inherited her uncle's farm and is busy reading the letter from his attorney after work as she heads toward her parked car, so she doesn't hear Jake's shout of warning, then steps into a busy intersection in the path of a rogue cab. Jake reaches for Carrie's arms as she looses her balance and smashes her heel into the curb, breaking a shoe. After assuring that the young woman is uninjured, their eyes meet and the attraction is instant, but Carrie is apprehensive with strangers and refuses when Jake impulsively asks her to dinner, saying she has plans.

Carrie heads home and wonders if she should have accepted Jake's offer, then shrugs it off and gets ready for an evening out with her friends, unaware that Jake and his dark, enigmatic friend, Nikko Brooks are at the same restaurant. When Jake steps over to Carrie's table, she introduces him to her friends. Sparks fly between Carrie and Jake and they end up spending the evening together.

When Carrie heads to her uncle's farm, she makes a startling discovery and enlists Jake's help. Jake goes to the farm, and soon, odd things begin to happen that threaten Carrie's safety. Carrie soon learns that someone from the past has returned, terrorizing her. As the passion between her and Jake escalates, she pushes aside her fear and on a stormy night, they give into their desires, completely unaware of the danger that lurks in the darkness and the person who plots to destroy them.

If you'd like to purchase "Rescued," please click on the link at the top of the page for lulu.com and search for it. I hope you enjoy reading it and I welcome any comments!

Rene Bellis

Post Surgery

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Sun, 25 Mar 2012 00:52:00 +0000

Well, I had my wrist surgery on Monday, October 17th. It wasn't quite as painful as I had feared it would be. I had been dreading the surgery, based on what Dr. Burke had told me. He said it would be necessary to cut the ulna, the bone that connects the wrist at the outer side of the hand, and then install a metal plate to hold the cut bone in place while it heals. Then he would have to stitch the torn ligament, and attach it to the wrist with screws.

He told me that this would actually require three surgeries; one to stitch and screw the torn ligaments as well as cut the ulna and install a metal plate. The second surgery would come in 4 to 6 weeks to remove the screws in the wrist only. The third surgery would then happen in 9 months to remove the plate in the arm. Full recovery could take up to 9-12 months, with several months of physical therapy.

I was terrified while he described this, although I remained calm. After he left the office, I was alone for a few minutes while the medical assistant left to get a schedule for surgery. I tried hard, but could not hold back the tears, and when she came back into the office I broke down. All I could think about was the pain and how long the recovery would be. And of course, how could I possibly function only with my left hand for several months??

She seemed surprised to see me crying. She said "you looked like you were so calm." I told her I wasn't. I was actually terrified. Then she asked me when I wanted to schedule the surgery, but I told her I wanted to wait until the fall. Going through a very hot summer with a cast on my arm, was not appealing to me. So I told her I would let her know and get back to her.

As I was getting ready to leave, I saw Dr. Burke in the hallway, and asked him what the chances were of the wrist healing by itself. His expression did not look encouraging; the frown on his face spoke volumes. He said it was possible, but not likely. I then asked him if it was necessary to have surgery. He said "if you can live with this, you won't need surgery." I told him I would like to wait a few months, then make a decision. He was okay with that.

After researching this particular procedure online, I was even more apprehensive. What he had described would be a major surgery, not a simple fix. I was not expecting that in order to correct this problem, it would be necessary to cut a perfectly healthy bone, install a metal plate in the arm, install screws and then have two more surgeries afterward. No, could not be happening!

I decided to give it some time; wait and see if the wrist would heal itself. It seemed the logical first step. But after living with several months of increasing pain and limited use of my wrist, I made the tough decision to proceed with the surgery. However, I owed it to myself to get a second opinion, so I began looking online through our insurance provider's website for a different surgeon.

In order to find a surgeon not affiliated with Dr. Burke's group, I had to widen the search range to 25 miles. By doing this, I found Dr. Paul Shapiro, located in Southfield. I was told to bring the MRI CD with me. Dr. Shapiro looked at my MRI and explained the arthroscopic procedure. I'm so glad I got the 2nd. opinion!!

He said it was not necessary to cut the ulna bone, which is call an ulnar shortening. When I asked him why Dr. Burke felt it was necessary to cut the bone, he said that many older doctors do not use the latest arthroscopic procedures. Those doctors tend to do more traditional procedures which are more invasive.

With his procedure, my recovery time would be much faster. I asked him, (thinking about the 9 to 12 months recovery time Dr. Burke had given me), how long would my recovery be? He said, "from start to finish, approximately 2 months." This had definitely put me at ease. I had made the right choice by choosing this doctor.

It grinds me that I got this injury on a failed trip out west earlier this year, which I refer to as my "vacation from hell," to which I have dedicated a separate blog. But this blog is not about that. It's about recovery from my surgery and the daily challenges I face by being temporarily left-handed, which is not easy, considering I am naturally right-handed.

It's been necessary to be very creative on how I do things. But I've discovered that there are some things that I simply can't do with only my left hand, i. e. , tie shoes, pull up a zipper, use nail clippers, and open a large jar of mayonnaise. For those things, I improvise.

Yesterday I had to go out and buy a pair of shoes (darn!) that didn't require tying. I found a nice pair of Keds that have a zipper on the top. I even got them on sale! Shoe problem solved.

For the other things, I either wait until I get help, or figure out another way to do it. Somehow I manage to do the most necessary things, but I'd be lying if I said it was easy. It's not. Each day presents a new activity, which brings with it, new challenges. Not until I have to do something, do I figure out that I either can't do it, or have to devise a different way to do it.

And of course there are other complications; such as associated fears in relationship to my wrist surgery. Since my spinal fusion in 2007, I have been unstable on my feet due to a condition called "drop foot." This condition occurs when there is permanent damage to the sciatic nerve. As a result of my spinal fusion, I have permanent nerve damage in my right foot, which has left me with permanent numbness and tingling in my toes.

The condition in itself isn't life-threatening, of course, however someone with this condition is at a higher risk of falling. A person's reflex to falling forward, is to put their hands in front of them to catch their fall.

My "drop foot" makes it necessary to be overly conscious of every step I take, because my toes sometimes don't completely clear the ground when I walk and tend to drag, thus tripping and stumbling for me is more common then another person.

I have stumbled numerous times, just by normal walking, and had actually fallen down too, but I have to be extra careful on steps, going both up or down. Steps are particularly treacherous for me. I've fallen down (or up) stairs, as a result of my foot not quite clearing the step. And of course, my reaction was to put my hands forward, catching myself. Exactly what I cannot do now!!

My most recent bad encounter with stairs, was this past summer. I was talking to my husband (who was in the basement) while standing on the landing. I thought I was on the bottom step, but I wasn't. Before I knew what was happening, I had slipped and landed hard, on the landing, no pun intended, on my entire left side. I was very fortunate I didn't break my hip or elbow. But boy was I bruised!! And it hurt like hell.

Now, with my primary hand being out of commission, my fear of falling has intensified. I simply can't afford to fall, possibly injuring my right hand even more, hurting my left hand, or injuring something else. I really do not need that aggravation! I just want to make it through this recovery in one-piece and come out ahead.

Maybe the next blog will be about tips and techniques for converting from your right hand to your left!

My Vacation From Hell

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Wed, 27 Jul 2011 04:32:00 +0000

After eleven years of being separated from a close friend whom I had worked with, we reconnected on Facebook in October, 2008. After two and a half years of communicating through Skype, e-mail and the occasional phone call, we'd become close as ever and when she'd told me she wanted to sell her house in Texas and had planned on moving back to Arizona, she'd invited me to visit her after she was settled. She hadn't planned on her home in Texas taking almost a year to sell, but eventually, they sold the house and had finally settled in Lake Havasu City, Arizona in December, 2010. I decided to give hr a few months to get settled into her home, get through the holidays and plan to take a trip out there in mid-February, 2011. We'd planned this trip for several months and were both excited at the prospect of seeing each other again. To protect the identity of this person, I won't use her real name, so I'll refer to her instead as "Melanie."

We'd planned this trip for three months; what to do, places we'd go. Melanie had told me she had a lot of fun stuff in store for us and couldn't wait for me to arrive! I also couldn't wait to get there as I had anticipated it would be the vacation of a lifetime, since I'd never been out west and was looking forward to exploring the vast area with my friend. So when the day finally came and it was time for me to leave for the airport, I was excited to finally fly out to see my good friend. Little did I know what lie in store for me, beginning with the trip from the airport. That should have been a clue as what was to come.

The plane had left Detroit Metro airport at 8:25 p.m. on February 13th, (bad omen) and landed at the McCarren International Airport in Las Vegas, the closest major airport to Lake Havasu City, Arizona. I'd been on a plane before, but never alone and flying solo was more than a bit unnerving, but people do it all the time, so I squashed my instinctive nervousness and tried to relax and enjoy the trip. Little did I know it was soon to become the vacation I'd never forget, but not because it was the dream vacation I'd envisioned for months. I had no idea what was to come, or what a huge mistake and lack of judgment I'd made (but I'll get to that later.) Unforeseen events prevailed and my dream vacation soon turned into a nightmare that would have long-lasting effects in ways I couldn't even begin to imagine.

It wasn't long before the trip of a lifetime took a turn for the worse. As the pilot taxied down the runway, the flight attendants began the drill of showing passengers where to locate their oxygen masks pointing to the emergency exits, in the event of a water evacuation. I had been focused on the flight attendant who stood a few seats ahead of me, when I heard the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. I was disgusted and totally grossed out. This was NOT a way to begin a "dream" vacation.

I glanced directly across the aisle and saw a young man bent forward, head stuck inside a paper bag, emptying the contents of his stomach. He'd either been recovering from a hangover or had air sickness, but good grief, we were still on the ground! During the entire four-hour flight, I kept one eye trained on that man in the event he was going to use the smelly puke bag again. It didn't help matters that instead of tossing it in the garbage, he had kept it stuffed into the rear pocket of the seat in front of him. It had smelled sour and turned my own stomach as I was already more than a little nervous about the overall flight. I was also convinced by keeping the bag nearby, he was likely to use it again, and sure enough, he did, right before we landed, his head was back in the bag. When we finally touched ground, I couldn't wait to get off that smelly plane, but of course, had to wait because it took a while to disembark.

My plane had landed in Las Vegas McCarren International Airport around 9:45 p.m. and after I was able to turn my cell phone back on, I saw that Melanie had sent me a message, "Where are you?" I told her our plane was slightly delayed, but I was disembarking and would be at the luggage area within 20 minutes. By the time Melanie had found me and we exchanged hugs, it was 10:10 Las Vegas time and 1:10 Detroit time.

I was starving, but excited, and figured I would just grab something to eat once we got to the hotel, because that was the plan, for us to spend the night in Las Vegas, then tour the city, including the Hoover Dam the next day. We agreed she'd pick me up from the airport and we'd stay the night in Vegas. I'd have plenty of time to eat a good meal, then could relax and unwind in a hotel room while Melanie and I had some time for "girl talk" before we went to bed. I was exhausted and needed to sleep, but first needed to eat as I had felt light-headed since it had been a long time since dinner in Detroit.

But none of that would happen, as I soon found out. Melanie had told me that Jeremy (her five year old son) had gotten ill, so instead of staying in Las Vegas as we'd planned, she said she'd needed had to drive all the way back to her house in Lake Havasu City, which was about 2-1/2 hours away. Mentally I added up the time we'd reach her house and figured it would be around 1:00 a.m. Vegas time, 4:00 a.m. Detroit time when we got to her house. My stomach protested and I wasn't sure I'd be able to go that long without food, but Melanie suggested we could stop somewhere along the way, so, without much choice, I said, "Ok," and followed her to where she'd parked her car. Not until that moment did I find out we wouldn't spend a few days in Vegas as planned while her parents had watched her son. It was the first of many plans that had been changed, or had never happened at all.

By the time we were on the road, it was 10:20 p.m. and with the time difference, it had been close to 24 hours since I had dinner and I was growing alarmingly hungry and light-headed. I wasn't sure I could make it 2-1/2 hours without real food, but was optimistic that we'd find a Denny's along the way and could stop. She assured me we would stop to eat something, so I resigned myself to enjoy the trip in spite of the hunger gnawing at my gut, but found it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the views she had pointed out along the way because I was too hungry and didn't even pay attention. She'd also pointed out many things that I really couldn't see in the dark and thought, "What's the point of this?" But politely kept it to myself. It was far too dark to see much of anything in the desert.

Since we were in the middle of the desert, there were no restaurants open, so we kept on driving, hoping to find something. When we finally came across the only restaurant we spotted, a Subway, it was 10:55 and they had just closed and were getting ready to lock the door. I beyond disappointed. I was desperate to eat! Hiding my increasing hunger and disappointment at how this dream trip was turning out, I got back in her Jeep and we hit the road. She had kept driving, and my hunger become more prominent with each passing mile.

After a while, a light had come on in her dashboard it beeped and she said, "Oh, Shit!" Her gas light had come on. She'd forgotten to get gas and her tank was almost empty. I had offered to pay for gas before we left Las Vegas, but she said she had enough and that she'd get it later. This made no sense to me, but I didn't want to start out the trip arguing, besides, she should know how much gas she has left, right? By then I was not only starving, I was cold, (it was only 42 degrees when I landed in Vegas), and now I had the added worry that we'd run out of gas in the middle of the desert in the middle of the night. This vacation was definitely NOT what I had dreamed about for 3 months. I had forced a faith I had soon learned not to trust that it would get better. It didn't. This was just the beginning of many similar episodes. The food thing would become a theme throughout the entire vacation. I was to be hungry a lot on this two-week excursion to hell.

We had finally arrived at her house around 3:15 a.m., which given the one hour time difference from Las Vegas, it was 5:15 a.m. in Detroit and I knew my husband would be getting up to go to work soon. All was quiet as we entered Melanie's house through the garage. The home was a lovely adobe style with a very interesting feature in the middle of the house, an atrium with an open ceiling so you could sit outside and view the stars in complete privacy. I made a mental note to explore the entire house when I had rested and eaten, the next morning.

Still, my only focus was on food since I hadn't eaten in about 24 hours, so Melanie had made me a bowl of split pea soup and I had made a turkey sandwich. I was thankful to finally eat after almost 24 hours. After I had eaten, I had felt a bit more human. Melanie had shown me to my room. It was lovely with its large, private bathroom containing a gigantic bathtub. We talked for a bit after she went into her son's room and spoke softly to him. He had woken up when he heard us come in. I finally crawled, exhausted and now with a fully tummy, into bed at 3:30 a.m., which was 5:30 Detroit time, right about the time Jim gets up to go to work. I almost called him to tell him I'd arrived safely, but I was exhausted and needed to sleep. Tomorrow would be the official start of my two-week stay in Arizona, and I was looking forward to checking out the surroundings in the daytime. Melanie had told me she'd planned a lot of things for us to do and places to go.

The next morning was Monday, Valentine's Day. It was a cool day, but turned warmer in the afternoon and hit around 74 degrees. We sat outside in the morning. Her son came down with a cold the day I flew in, which was the reason we couldn't spend time in Vegas. I was disappointed, but of course I understood a sick child took precedence over anything else. Plus, I didn't mind resting up a day or two because I truly felt the jet-lag from the exhausting trip.I had told her about the guy who vomited on the plane and she too was grossed out.

Her house was beautiful, the outdoor patio facing Lake Havasu and the distant Southern California mountains. She had made waffles for breakfast and later she said she needed to get some groceries, so in lieu of her ill son, I had offered to go to Walmart that afternoon to get a feel for the area and save Melanie a trip to the store so she could stay home and take care of Jeremy, who had watched cartoons on the couch. He was a quiet, shy little boy but eventually came to be friendly and we got along fine.

I had fun exploring the wild, Arizona landscape and found the Walmart easily enough. I had lunch at the Subway inside of Walmart first, then browsed through the aisles and bought some groceries. I had yet to meet Alan, her husband, but he had worked late at the restaurant that night for Valentine's Day so I knew he wouldn't be home. That evening I made chicken cordon blue for dinner. By the time it was done, it was after 7:30 and I was quite tired after being on my feet most of the afternoon, plus my back hurt. We finished dinner around 8:00 and by then I was pretty wiped out. I think the flight got to me and I would need another day to recoup. Melanie had made plans for us to go into town and see the London Bridge the next day. I had my camera ready and couldn't wait to get out and snap photos.

Tuesday morning, Melanie started coughing. She had caught whatever Jeremy had and wasn't feeling too well. The timing couldn't have been worse! In the afternoon, Melanie suggested we go see where her husband, Alan worked as a chef at a country club, so we headed into town and she pointed out some sights along the way. Before long we arrived, and she drove into a private, gated entrance, then parked the Jeep and got out. I took a few photos of the surroundings as well as Melanie and Jeremy sitting on a rock. It was a beautiful, warm afternoon.

When we turned to leave the parking lot, she saw her husband down the hill, near the clubhouse on a golf cart. He took us for a ride around the private area of the club and we got to see the million dollar homes that only members could normally see. I enjoyed the sights and was thrilled to get a photo of a real road runner. She said we could come back anytime to use the pool or gym, which sounded like a great idea. I couldn't wait! After our tour, we left and headed for her house.

Later that evening, I had finally met her husband, Alan, and they had ordered a pizza and two large salads. The dressing was outstanding. I was starving and enjoyed the salad and pizza. It was a nice evening, so Melanie and I sat outside with our blankets. Jeremy was taking a bath, so Melanie kept having to get up to tend to him until it was his bedtime. Once he was in bed, we spent the rest of the evening outside on the couches and chatted about the good old times we'd spent working together. It was nice to see my friend, whom I had lost touch with for over 11 years. Jeremy was feeling better and would be going back to school tomorrow, so Melanie and I would begin our sightseeing. I couldn't wait!

Wednesday morning, Melanie took Jeremy to school and came back before 9:00 then discovered she'd forgotten his lunch on the counter, so before we could take off for our sightseeing, she had to return to the school to drop off his forgotten lunch. She told me we'd head over to see the Parker Dam, but then somehow we ended up driving through the desert, right through an Indian Reservation with a very prominent "keep out" sign. Melanie did some off-roading and the Jeep's rough ride did a number on my aching back. I couldn't take the jarring bumps of driving on such a horribly bumpy road, and told her as much, so eventually she got onto a paved road and headed into a Godforsaken place called "Swan Sea," which was an abandoned mine.

Melanie was fascinated with the place, but couldn't believe how much it had changed from the last time she was there. She was intent on getting some photos of the abandoned old buildings. I thought the place was desolate, boring and dangerous. I didn't feel comfortable or safe out there in the middle of nowhere and questioned her reason for taking me there. There was absolutely nothing to see out there. I'd much rather have gone to the Parker Dam, which was supposed to be our original destination.

I'm not sure why she ventured off and chose to go to this Godforsaken land, but I had tried to be a good guest and didn't question her decision nor did I complain. It took a while to reach this Swan Sea place and my stomach yet again growled in hunger as it had been hours since breakfast. Since Melanie was on the Atkins diet, she didn't seem too concerned with my hunger because she continuously drank gigantic latte drinks and had Atkins bars with her at all times. I needed a "real" meal, but soon learned that keeping a candy bar in my purse was essential as many times it had gotten me through a real bad patch of hunger until I could finally eat.

After a few hours, my stomach was rumbling and I pulled out a couple of Dove Darks that I'd stuck in my purse and I'm glad I did because it was close to 2:30 by the time we stopped at a Burrito place named "Ruptero's". She had wanted to get it "to go," but burritos are messy, so I suggested we eat there. We ordered our burritos and sat down to eat. It was the best burrito I'd ever eaten, made of shredded steak and cheese, but I couldn't fully enjoy it, because I had felt so rushed. I had remembered Melanie was a really fast eater, and that hadn't changed in all those years. She finished hers long before I was done. I can't gobble my food like that because it gives me heartburn, so I took my time and tried to enjoy my meal, but she had already gotten up, and went toward the door. She was obviously impatient to pick Jeremy from pre-school. I had not had enough time to completely finish my burrito, so I ended up tossing the last 1/4 of it in the garbage, because she had rushed me out of there, which pissed me off. I should have just taken it with me!

Once we were in the Jeep and on our way to pick up Jeremy, she confessed to me that she really didn't have to get Jeremy right at 3:00, because they pay so much for his tuition, that she has the option to keep him at latchkey until 6:00. Then why did she rush me through lunch when she knew she had plenty of time to get there? It made no sense, but I saw a pattern evolving whenever we were out and about especially when it came to mealtimes, and although I didn't spend time questioning it, I had begun second-guessing my decision to visit this person I thought I knew so well. It was hard to tell what she was thinking because she never came out and said anything, but her actions spoke volumes. It soon became painfully apparent that she'd been trying to teach me a lesson. What I never had learned in the 13 days I'd spent with her, was why? What had I done to deserve this type of treatment?

After a few days, it became obvious that she really didn't want to go anywhere, but because she had said we'd do things, she obliged and did the very minimum, but when we actually went someplace, she would purposely design the time in ways that didn't allow us to spend much time there and always made excuses to get back, either to get to work or to pick up her son. I know she wasn't feeling well either, and allowed for that, but why didn't she see a doctor when she didn't start to feel better after a day or two? She claimed she was too sick to go anywhere, yet she wasn't too sick to work and all clients. That was the only thing she seemed to be consistent about; work. She and I have been planning this trip for 3 months. Why didn't she schedule her work around my visit? She works from home and is her own boss. She certainly could have done day trips with me and worked in the evenings.

She'd had three months to schedule her jobs. One particular day, she said "I should never have planned anything for a Monday because it's always my busiest day." Being her own boss, she had complete control over her schedule. Why didn't she plan her work better? I soon learned that nothing she did was by mistake; it was by design, meant to punish me. Too many things didn't make sense and after catching her in a few lies, this had tipped me off to her "master plan" to teach me a lesson. Yet I did nothing to deserve this treatment except be a stellar house guest; cleaning, washing dishes, babysitting her son, doing my own (and their) laundry, grocery shopping, etc. Hell, I could have saved myself a lot of money and simply stayed at home!

The London Bridge had been torn down in 1968 from the River Thames in London and rebuilt stone by stone across Lake Havasu, (which is a widening of the Colorado River), from Lake Havasu City to a small Island, which the locals just referred to as "the island." It was a landmark I'd wanted to see as well as check out the London Bridge shops that we'd seen briefly earlier that week. On the day we finally went to the London Bridge, she didn't want to park, and said, "I think they charge for parking." I told her I had no problem paying for it. Finally she pulled into this parking lot (free) and parked the Jeep near a stairway that led down to the shops. We got out and walked around the shops, but I had felt rushed because I could sense she didn't want to spend much time there. I like to get a "feel" for a new place so that I can experience it but I had felt so rushed, I simply couldn't enjoy it or appreciate it. This was no way to spend my vacation!

When we finished going through those shops, I asked if we could cross over the bridge to the other shops. She said, "The shops are all the same." She really did not want to go across the bridge, but eventually she conceded and pulled into the "Island Mall" parking lot. She didn't get out of the car, and reached for her iPhone, to me saying, without words, "Don't be too long," so I said I wouldn't be long, and began to resent being rushed. Wasn't this what I came to Arizona for? I grew increasingly frustrated, because we had the entire afternoon for sightseeing and yet I had felt rushed the whole time, not really being able to take in the sights as I'd hoped I could and not enjoying myself in the least. (Luckily, I was able to go there later on my own.) I found a couple of really cool t-shirts for Jim and within less than 10 minutes, was back in the Jeep. She was on the phone with a client.

When Alan came home from work, she told him that I'd bought ice cream and asked him to pay me. He mumbled something about "I don't have any money," and that was that. I never got paid for the ice cream. No big deal, but I'd already bought groceries, had only three dinners, two of which I made. She also never paid me back for the additional groceries she'd added while I was shopping for stuff I ate. I had to let it go because it wasn't worth getting angry about. After all, I was a guest in her house and wasn't paying to stay there. Not in money, but in other ways. Like being subjected to cruelty and being completely ignored by her husband, who considered me a nuisance. I did nothing except be a good guest. I cleaned up after myself and him, after he'd left a kitchen counter full of the remnants of a tuna sandwich he'd made with tuna that I'd bought and didn't even offer to make me one. Nice guy, indeed. A real charmer. I'd never felt more out of place, alone, or unwanted in my entire life.

Each night I'd stay in my room, my only refuge from the odd family dynamics in that dysfunctional household. But it got old as the bed had a deep "well" in it and I usually sank toward the center of the bed. I couldn't find a comfortable place to work on my computer, so after a few days, I sat in the living room with them as they ignored me completely to watch "Law & Order," night after endless night. The "girls popcorn/movie night" never happened either. So many things simply never happened. How I longed to just play a board game or have a "normal" vacation. This was NOT what I'd signed up for or spent so much money on!

While I was browsing the London Bridge shops, she had mentioned this cool interior design store that she'd wanted to go to so she could talk to the designer who did her previous home in Lake Havasu. I figured out later that's why she was rushing me to get through the London Bridge stores. We went to the furniture store and Melanie took instant offense at how the "snooty" saleswomen had given her the "once over" and how she'd treated her like a scum. I thought it was rather funny that she got so angry about it. She was dressed like a slob in a stained t-shirt and worn jeans. People make harsh judgments about others without knowing the facts, but you can't let it get to you or take it personally. She couldn't. She kept talking about it for hours afterward. Evidently, it had hit a nerve in her. I didn't know why this bothered her so much. I found it quite amusing!

After we'd left the high-end furniture store, I convinced her to first stop at a hamburger place before we picked up her son from daycare. I was hungry and it was about 2:30 by the time we got to the fast food place. It took 15 minutes, but I finally got our food and we left and got to the daycare in time, but by the time we got home and ate, our food was cold. Why couldn't we just have eaten it at the restaurant? This made no sense to me. I had felt a shift in our relationship after that day and things gradually had became more strained between us.

I believe she didn't like stopping whenever I had asked her to eat, but knowing she never had food ready at her house eating on the road seemed like my only option. That, and the food I'd bought for myself at Walmart which I had to plan out carefully to make sure I had enough meals to get me through the week for breakfast. Lunch was the toughest meal, especially if we were not at her house. Why wouldn't she allow me time to eat? It wasn't because of money, because I'd offered to pay for it. I figured out she had been punishing me. What I failed to discover, was why? Melanie was definitely a "show, don't tell," person. I had no idea what it was I was supposed to learn from her treatment of me regarding the food issue.

She'd suggested going to Monument Valley but said it was a 6 hour drive. I told her honestly, that I can't sit that long in a vehicle because of my back problems and told her I didn't mind if we kept things closer to home, maybe spend the night someplace else? She'd originally had plans for us to camp and spend time sightseeing through the Grand Canyon and taking in other sights in the vicinity. For various reasons, that didn't happen. I didn't mind because I wasn't too keen on camping in a tent in the middle of the desert and told her as much. So, when the first week was over, we'd only gone to only a few places nearby. But how many times can you see the London Bridge? Soon, I had longed to see more and venture out further to get photos of more than just her immediate neighborhood. Maybe next week would be better. I had hoped.

Unfortunately, each day was a greater disappointment than the previous one had been. What was the most baffling to me though, was that it became clearly evident after a couple of days that this family had no structure when it came to food, or at least if they did, it was a far cry from what I was used to. Melanie made it pretty clear early on that she "didn't spend much time in the kitchen" and didn't know how to cook. What I didn't know what that this meant I wouldn't spend much time eating, either. Not unless I cooked it or bought it. What did they eat? Well, simple. Melanie was on Atkins, so she had her bars and her drinks and ate bacon and eggs daily for breakfast then wondered why she was gaining weight. I told her because she'd been eating fat and cholesterol, that's why. I think she got angry at that statement, but I was beyond caring at that point. Her husband, "the chef" cooked all day at work. The last thing he wanted to do at night was to cook for someone he had hardly spoken to in the 13 days I'd been a "guest" in their home. The guy barely said two words to me. Talk about uncomfortable! And her son, well, he was perfectly happy with a bowl of cereal for dinner or a PBJ. So most of the time I was on my own, which meant if I didn't cook it or buy it, I didn't eat. Period. Candy bars can only go so far to sustain you. Plus, I was tired of not having a decent meal. I even offered to take the family out to dinner but that never happened either. I simply didn't get it!

I soon figured out that that the only way I'd eat dinner was if I scheduled my day in a way that I could borrow her vehicle and go out in the later afternoon. On the days she and I went places, she usually didn't want to stop to eat, although the few times she did concede, I had felt so rushed I couldn't enjoy my meal. It was definitely NOT the vacation I had signed up for, that's for sure. I soon learned to always carry a candy bar with me because it might be the only thing I'd have to eat for a very long time, like all day. When I woke each morning, I became instantly depressed, because it meant that I faced yet another day where I may not get anything to eat except for breakfast. It wasn't a good way to begin a vacation day.

One day when we'd planned an outing, I asked Melanie if we should pack a lunch and she said, "No, we can get something to eat in town." What confounded me was that she took Jeremy along for the ride, even though her husband was at home that day and could have watched him. As soon as we got in the car Jeremy said he was hungry. Melanie kept telling him, "We're almost there, honey. When we get there, we'll get something to eat." We were heading to Oatman, a western tourist town high in the mountains and desert region. I had no idea where we were and the rugged beauty also presented a great deal of danger. Many of the roads were going up the side of a mountain with a 1,000 foot drop. One wrong turn of the steering wheel, and down into the valley below we'd crash. I tried not to think of the danger, instead focused on the incredible scenery. Plus, since her son was in the car, I knew she wasn't about to do anything to put his life in danger.

It was an hour and a half before we had finally arrived in "town," a small western tourist trap in the mountains that had only one restaurant. By the time we got there it was 1:00 and of course, there was a line. Not a long line, but a line, nonetheless. I was more than willing to wait, but we walked by it and looked for another place to eat. There was none. She turned and asked me, "Do you want kettle corn or ice cream?" I told her, "Neither. I want a sandwich!" What am I, five? Did she think that by offering me popcorn that would suffice as lunch? Here was another example of her complete disregard for my need to eat a meal, not ice cream or popcorn!

After discovering that there truly was only one place "in town" to eat, we went back there and stood behind four people ahead of us. I didn't think that it would be such a long wait, but Melanie had another idea, because after a few minutes, she took a hold of Jeremy's hand and walked away saying, "I'm not waiting in that line," then left me to decide if I wanted to stand and wait in line alone, possibly risk being left in that Godforsaken place if she got too angry at me. At that point, I didn't know what she was capable of, and I didn't want to risk it, so I reluctantly left the restaurant line and walked in the direction I saw her heading and pulled a candy bar out of my purse. It wasn't exactly the lunch I had envisioned, but it took the edge off my hunger.

I walked into a few little shops, mostly tourist traps, and bought a couple of postcards. I asked the salesperson how close we were to the nearest gas station since Melanie again didn't get gas before we'd left, even though I offered to pay for it. I feared running out of gas on our way back. She told me it was 37 miles away. Inside I cringed, and said, "Thank you," then left the store.

I found Melanie and Jeremy, sitting on a rock at the end of the street near the parking lot. She'd bought Jeremy an ice cream and she was eating an Atkins bar. She smiled and looked at me and asked, "Are you ready to go?" I glanced at my watch. It was only 1:25 and we'd been there less than 30 minutes. I had barely gotten a feel for the place, only went into 2 or 3 stores, and she was already asking if I was ready to leave. It didn't look like we'd do much else there, so I responded with, "Well, not really, but clearly you are, so let's go," and I immediately walked away from her so she couldn't see how upset I'd been. I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how bad she'd made me feel. She didn't respond to my comment, so we walked over to where she'd parked. I was glad I'd brought a water bottle with me since the candy bar had made me thirsty. To say I was disappointed with this "adventure" was an understatement. At least I was able to get some phenomenal photos on the ride up the mountain. Big frickin' deal.

After having stayed there for 12 nights, I soon learned that dinners were non-existent in that household. Her husband, Alan, "the chef" never cooked a meal for us. For months, she'd told me, "Alan loves to cook for people!" I thought I was in for a rare treat, visiting a friend whose husband was a chef. Reality was a far cry from what she'd led me to believe since her husband barely spoke to me, let alone cooked for me. The only night they supplied dinner was when they had bought the pizza and salad.

One night after I had visited the shops on my own, I had a craving for ice cream and had called Melanie to to find out where an ice cream shop was. With her directions, I had found it really quick. Trying to be a polite guest, I had asked if she'd wanted me to bring ice cream home for them. She told me she didn't want any, but that Jeremy and Alan had wanted ice cream and then told me which flavor, so I bought the ice cream and headed back to her house, hoping I'd get there before it had melted. It was the first time I'd driven back to her house after dark, but I found it without a problem. When I got there, I put theirs into the freezer while Jeremy finished his bath. After he got out, he had his ice cream and not long afterward, Melanie put him to bed.

I felt like she'd tease me with an activity to get my hopes up, then slam me down and make excuses to not go. I don't know what her motives were, but none of them made sense to me. When she told me that, I was not surprised in the least, because this seemed to be the norm, but I was certainly disappointment, so I just said, "Fine. I guess I'll have my usual breakfast," and turned to go into the kitchen and make my bagel and tea. After a while I went outside to sit on the porch and she asked me if I still wanted to go to her mom's. I jumped at the chance to get out of there for a while and after she gave me directions, I found her mom's house very easily. It was on "Constellation Drive," only about 10 minutes away.

This trip to her mother's was an eye-opening experience and probably the only time they cooked anything (that I know of) was the afternoon I had spent at Melanie's mother's house, sewing a pillow FOR HER, Melanie. Later that afternoon, Melanie messaged me asking, "Are you coming home for dinner?" By that time her mother and father had asked me to join them for rib night at the Elk's club and I'd gladly accepted. I had no reason to believe Melanie and Alan had dinner planned because she had said nothing about it the night before or that day. Frankly, I was surprised that she even asked if I'd planned on being there for dinner at all. Up to then I'd seen no evidence of anything resembling a normal family meal. Her son seemed content with peanut butter sandwiches or cereal, but then again, he's FIVE.

Spending the afternoon with Melanie's mother, Sarah, was an eye-opening experience because Sarah had asked me, "So, has Alan been cooking you any good dinners?" She had an odd look on her face and I had the feeling she was testing me. I quietly responded, "No." Then she quirked one eyebrow (a gesture her daughter did as well) and before I knew it, I told her the whole sordid story. I told her, "No, he hasn't cooked. In fact, I haven't been getting much in the way of food since I got here ten days ago." I explained that on my first night, I cooked dinner, chicken cordon blue and later that first week I made steak. Melanie made enchiladas one night with an apple pie (her grandmother's recipe), but other than that, I didn't get dinners on most nights. Sarah told me that it wasn't Melanie's grandmother's pie recipe, it was her recipe! She also told me that Melanie CAN cook. She repeated it, she said, "She can cook!" Melanie clearly told me she didn't know how to cook. Hmmmm....interesting. Had she been lying? I wasn't the first time.

Sarah was appalled at what I'd told her and said, "I can't believe they have been treating you the same way they treated us when we visited them in New York!" What??? She'd treated her PARENTS that way too? What kind of person does that? I am not a person who expects to be waited on, but when you have guests, it's expected that you inquire if they're hungry at a normal time when most people eat. I had thought their behavior was rude, but kept making excuses for them, but when her mother told her father to "Stop making excuses for her," I finally had felt validated and that I hadn't imagined it. I had been treated badly. I was surprised her father had said, "I hate to say this, but she's BLONDE!" Then her mom said, "I love my daughter, but the way she's been treating you is inexcusable!"

It was indeed a relief to hear confirmation from people that know Melanie well and that I wasn't going crazy or imagining it. Melanie and Alan weren't being the greatest host and hostess, in fact, missing the mark by a long-shot. I'd noticed a change in her behavior only a couple of days after I arrived, but couldn't fathom what I could have possibly done to deserve such treatment. Even prisoners are entitled to three meals a day!

I had a great afternoon and wonderful evening with Melanie's parents. Not only did Sarah give me lunch, (and was startled at my reaction to this question as I had responded as though someone had asked me if I wanted a million dollars), she and her husband had graciously invited me out to dinner. I think they were trying to make up for their daughter's incredible ignorance on how to treat guests. It was one of the best nights I'd had since my arrival in Arizona, and the only time I got to go out to eat with anyone besides myself. She'd even told me that had she known that Melanie was pulling her old tricks with me, she'd have come gotten me and I could have stayed with her! I couldn't believe it! Now I wish I'd have gone over there sooner!

On the way to the Elk's club rib dinner with Melanie's parents, Eddie's name came up in conversation and her mom told me that Melanie had told me that "Eddie was dying to meet me!"' That's why we were scheduled to have lunch. She then told me that Melanie had told her that I was dying to meet Eddie. Why would I be "dying" to meet this Eddie person whom Melanie talked about so frequently? I didn't know him, so it certainly didn't matter to me if I'd met him or not. The entire time I was there, Melanie had talking about Eddie, injecting his name into many conversations and telling me what a great friend he was, he was into real estate, had a big house, etc. I had never once expressed that I was "dying" to meet him! She kept telling me she'd take me by Eddie's house but like other things she said, that never happened. I began to wonder if Melanie is suffering from some kind of mental disorder because her behavior was just bizarre.

When I finally got back to Melanie's house later that night, Melanie was on the love seat and Alan was slumped on the couch, half asleep. While she didn't seem outwardly angry, I could tell she didn't like that I'd spent the afternoon and evening with her parents, but at that point, I didn't care. Only two more days until I was going to be out of there and I actually couldn't wait to leave! I'd been a good guest. I'd tried to be understanding and patient, but she was clearly not at all who I thought she was and I was obviously not someone she wanted in her house, since she let me know in numerous, countless subtle ways. I should have trusted my instincts and left as soon as I recognized something wasn't right, but I kept making excuses for her and waiting for it to change. It only grew worse as time had passed.

It was by far the worst vacation I'd ever had. Here I was surrounded by beauty in a place so very different from everything I'd ever known, and never had I felt more alone, especially in the evenings. And things that I'd experienced weren't by chance; they were by design. Not only was the lack of regular meals an issue, I learned fairly quickly that Melanie said one thing and did the exact opposite. She had told me we'd have a "girl's night" with a movie, which never happened. She'd told me we would go to her husband's country club to swim in the pool and use the hot tub/gym, which also didn't happen. One night we were supposed to go to a Rock-A-Billy concert and fireworks display. That never happened. She had mentioned some outdoor country-style restaurant, Ranch something or other. Didn't happen. Lots of promises, none kept.

I asked her if we could go out to dinner, to a nice restaurant, at least once, before I left, my treat. She said, "absolutely!" We never went anywhere other than a few fast food places. She told me a friend of hers, "Eddie" was dying to meet me and we were supposed to have lunch with him on the Wednesday I ended up at her mom's house. I was excited that we'd FINALLY go out somewhere to eat and asked her what restaurants she had in mind. Well, on Wednesday morning, I asked Melanie what time we'd be meeting with Eddie so I knew what to eat for breakfast. I didn't want a large breakfast if we were going to an early lunch. She was sitting at her computer when I went into her office and asked her. She had said, "We're not going to lunch. I feel like crap today." She seemed fine last night. What had changed? And yet she had worked all day on websites.

The first couple of nights, we sat outside on the porch. It was lovely and I truly enjoyed it. The environment was so different from what I was used to, so wild and untamed, but beautiful. I wished we could have done this more, but later in the week, it got too cold to sit outside so we stayed inside, but we did nothing in the evenings. I suggested maybe playing a board game one night and she agreed, but we never played one. I mean, if you invite a guest into your home for 2 weeks, don't you think you'd do things that are fun and spend time with them? The things I wanted to do didn't cost anything. I'm perfectly happy with a bag of popcorn and a movie, but the only thing they watched, night after night after night, was "Law and Order." Nothing else! It seemed like a very dark show and I didn't enjoy it, so I spent a lot of time in my room that first week. I also didn't want to intrude on their family time.

Being in my room had its limitations since there was no place to sit comfortably for very long. My choices were either the bed, which had a dip in the center, or a very hard rocking chair. I chose the bed, leaning against the wall with pillows propped behind my back. After a while my legs got numb so I'd get up to stretch and went out to the kitchen and get something to drink.

My new 10.5" laptop had become my best friend, my connection to the outside world. I was also able to talk to Jim on "Skype" some nights, but with the two-hour time difference, by the time I got on the computer, he was ready for bed.

So, that first week, I spent a lot of time in my room. After Alan went to bed, I'd go out into the living room, and Melanie and I would talk for a while before we went to bed. During the 2nd week, I sat in a corner lounge chair in the living room because it was far more comfortable than sitting on the bed, leaning against the pillows. I did that for a few hours and then went into my room, not long before I went to bed. This made those long, boring evenings much easier for me.

During the 12 days I stayed at their house, Melanie's husband barely spoke to me. In fact, on my last night, Thursday, he spoke NOT EVEN ONE WORD to me. Nothing. Not a "Have a safe flight," or "Thanks for coming," or even a "Kiss my Ass!" Nothing! Not one word. I had never met anyone so rude in my entire life. Had I known that alone prior to booking my flight, I would have stayed home.

I was a good guest and contributed to the household. I washed dishes practically every day and cleaned up after myself. I didn't mind because it gave me something to do. I also kept Jeremy company while Melanie worked. He watched cartoons, but I was nearby and talked to him, got to know him. He was a smart little boy, kind of shy at first, but he warmed up to me later on. He was also quite spoiled.

I let their dog, a black Dachshund, outside when she needed to pee. On one night, she was by the door for a long time and Alan was sprawled on the couch and didn't get up to let her out, so I opened the door and she went. Poor thing had the runs! Could it have been because he'd fed her the pork that was in the refrigerator for at least 10 days? Melanie offered that pork rib to me for dinner one night but I declined because I know it had been there at least a week.

I also did my own laundry added theirs. Even put them in the dryer. On the occasions I did use her Jeep to explore, I put the gas I used and then some. I cooked two dinners and went grocery shopping twice for which I never got paid, even after she swore she'd pay me. That wasn't cheap, either.

One night after I'd been there for a few days, I had e-mailed my friend Debbie and told her what was happening and she said, "You could have stayed home and done that!" This really put things in perspective. She was right. I had felt more like a housekeeper or babysitter than a guest, and certainly not a wanted guest. Melanie even had said, "I feel so bad for you! You spent all this money and I've been so sick." That was questionable. If she was so sick, why did she not get some medication? And how was she able to work so much?

I had originally planned leaving for home on Saturday, February 26, but at the end of my first week, on that Friday night on Skype, Jim told me to just get a rental car and get the hell out. The plan was that Melanie to drive me into Vegas, and we would tour the Hoover Dam, something I thought we'd do when I arrived. If I didn't make arrangements to do this myself, I knew that it would never happen. One thing I've learned from being there for those 13 days, was that no matter what Melanie said, it wasn't true. I learned that she'd simply say anything to appease me, and then simply do whatever she pleased.

Given my experience with how well she'd kept promises, I'd decided to take Jim's advice and order a rental car from Avis and leave a day early so I could spend my night in Vegas. Melanie drove me to the Avis location Thursday, and after she dropped me off, I spent the entire day doing what I should have been doing all along, sightseeing at my own pace. I went to the Parker Dam, I took pictures, I stopped for a car show in town and had dinner at a street side cafe. I regret not getting the car a lot sooner. I could have visited a friend in California!

When I had first told Melanie that I was going to get a rental car, her reaction was strange. She said, "Why do you want to waste money on a car when you can just use my Jeep?" I told her because I want the freedom to come and go as I please without a time limit. On the occasions I did drive the Jeep, she'd needed it back by 3:00 so she could pick up Jeremy from daycare, so I could never really spend the time I wanted to spend without feeling pressure to get it back. As a rule, I don't like driving someone else's car.

Her Jeep. What a piece that was! The windows didn't open, there was a pile of junk in the entire back seat and a pair of Melanie's sunglasses that rolled from side to side on the dashboard every time I turned a corner. I HATED driving it! No thanks. I got my rental car. It was she that suggested I drive to Las Vegas after I told her I was getting the car. Excellent idea, because it assured me that I'd spend my night there. Unfortunately, Vegas turned out to be its own nightmare.

I had left Melanie's house on Friday, February 25, 2011 at 11:30 a.m. after we hugged. I said "Thank you," but had no idea what for. Then I got on the road, had stopped for lunch, than drove through California and had arrived in Vegas around 3:00 in the afternoon, with a splitting headache, but couldn't check into my hotel until 4:00, so I had to drive around in the WORST traffic I'd ever experienced, with a headache that threatened my sanity. I'd never experienced such insane traffic! How can people stand this place?

Thank God I'd paid extra for the Garman. It came in handy in Vegas. It was there I had severely injured my wrist upon arriving at the hotel and hauling my too-heavy luggage out of the trunk of my little red Aveo in the parking lot of the hotel at Harrah's. Not until the next day, did I notice my wrist hurt and was quite swollen. I brushed it off, thinking I'd just sprained it by hauling heavy luggage. Not until much later would I realize I'd actually torn three ligaments and would require surgery later that year to correct it.

I had checked into Harrah's, a recommendation from Gayle, my sister-in-law travel agent and had gotten a nice room on the 23 floor. After I had checked in and found my room, I was both exhausted, yet very, very hungry, but exhaustion won out, so I grabbed some pretzels and iced tea I'd brought and rested a bit, then went in search of food and ended up eating at "Spagos" an Italian High-End establishment in the Forum Shops at Caesar Palace. I found it by sheer will because it was so convoluted with all the levels and stores, but once I found it, the meal was superb. I had the spaghetti and some awesome garlic bread. Just water to drink. That's all I could afford.

When I had left the forum shops, I headed back to my hotel and tried to get the internet to work, but no luck. Then some asshole was out there at 6:00 a.m. shouting down the hall on his cell phone. I had woken up and showered, then ordered pancakes through room service. It came a half hour later when I was out of the shower. It was good, but way too much.

Vegas wasn't my cup of tea. While beautiful, clean kept and certainly glamorous, it doesn't suit me as a person, but I had wanted to take the Hoover Dam tour, so I booked it from the hotel on the morning I'd checked out. It was the "express" tour. What I didn't know what that you either got to pee, eat, or see the Dam, but can't do all three because they simply don't allow you enough time since they force you to sit through a movie then take you to the inner workings of the Dam. By the time I was done with the "interior" tour, it was 3:20 and I still had to get something to eat lest I pass out!

By the time I got my food, it was 3:25 and the bus was to leave at 3:30. I barely made it to the bus. The driver had warned us, "if you miss this bus, the taxi back into Vegas costs $125.00." I made it just as the doors were closing. I had never been more stressed out in my entire life! You can keep Las Vegas! Just get me home, Please!! I made my way back to the hotel's parking lot and got into my car and headed for the Avis Rental so I could drop off my car and get to the airport by shuttle. It was about a 15 minute ride. I figured I could arrive early, eat, use the laptop or maybe read. I got there at 6:15 p.m. and my flight wasn't leaving until 10:00, so I had plenty of time.

Only when I got in line, I was told there was a flight delay and they wouldn't be checking bags for at least another hour, so I stood in line along with the other people and just waited. Finally, they called us up to the counter, took our luggage and I got through security and after putting my shoes on, began looking for an open restaurant, but found none. You'd think on a Saturday night in Las Vegas, the city that never sleeps, you'd find a restaurant open. Chili's was closed. There was another small bar with minimal sandwiches open, none of which appealed to me, so I ended up going to Burger King, ordered a sandwich, drink, fries and a water and after taking two bites, decided I wasn't hungry after all, knowing I'd likely regret it later, but I felt a bit queasy so better not to eat too much. After what I'd experienced in the past two weeks, my nerves were shot.

I found a charging station and plugged in my laptop and phone and tried to get online, but I think they purposely don't make it easy for you to use the internet ANYWHERE in Las Vegas because they want you to spend your time (and money) on the slot machines which lined the interior of the airport. I spent $1.00 and lost it, then walked away. As the departure time drew near, I found a seat and asked a man to save it for me while I used the bathroom. After I sat back down, I found out that he and his wife had a similar experience with the Hoover Dam tour, only they never got to see the Dam! And they paid a lot more than I did, like $79.00 a person, which included a tour of Evelyn's chocolates, which was closed by the time they got there. So theirs wasn't a good experience either. It seems like this is all done by design. It's a large scheme to suck the money out of your pockets in ways you wouldn't even suspect. I'll never, ever go back there again.

The entire trip was a nightmare and I couldn't wait to get back home to my husband and familiar surroundings. What a huge waste of money and time. The wild west was a bit too wild for me. I'll keep my Michigan changing seasons and crazy temperatures any day.

And sadly, my friendship with Melanie has ended. She's no longer accepting communication from me. This is another twist of this story from hell. After I got back home, HER mother had contacted ME through Facebook, apologizing for her daughter's rude behavior! I accepted Sarah as a friend and we e-mailed back and forth for a while. Evidently, Melanie found out about it (not from me) and told me to "stop e-mailing my mother with your problems..." I didn't initiate this conversation with her mother. Her mother had contacted me!

I was prepared to just let it go and never reveal to Melanie of her incredibly rude treatment of me, and how uncomfortable I'd felt during the time I had spent at her house, but when her mother contacted me, I figured it was a chance to get it off my chest, even though I was curious why her mother would contact me in the first place.

I found out soon enough; apparently, I had gotten caught in the middle of a mother/daughter battle that had been going on for years, as Melanie herself admitted that she and her mother had never gotten along. Perhaps her mother had seen this as an opportunity to get information from me about Melanie (and perhaps validating her daughter's treatment of her) and Melanie had wrongly assumed I'd been the one going behind her back to get in touch with her mother. Clearly, she was somehow threatened by any contact between her mother and myself.

Looking back, I'm angry about the entire episode. I'm furious that she (Melanie) shut ME out, not accepting e-mails from me, when I did NOTHING wrong. I was a good guest and left her home on a good note, even though I had every right to be angry and tell her so. I also resented being used by her mother as a source of information. It's the only logical reason her mother would have contacted me in the first place. She had to have known I'd respond and fill her in about my stay at her daughter's house! While I was at her (Sarah's) house and she was preparing my lunch, she told me that if she'd known how they were treating me, she'd have come to get me and bring me to her house. I can well imagine how that would have gone over!

I've recited this "vacation" from hell to my friends and family numerous times and everyone tells me that had it been them, they'd have left after the first two days. Looking back at how it ended, I wish I'd have either left sooner, or just gone elsewhere after the first few days. I had better expectations because for months she told me "there's so much to do and so much to see," so is it my fault? What, exactly, did I do wrong?

And I ended up having wrist surgery in October...a gift that keeps on giving. Lesson learned. Don't take vacations alone, especially visiting someone you think you know, but you really don't know at all. And mostly, have a back-up plan!

A Stitch In Time

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 04:47:00 +0000

I love to sew. Sewing is not only my favorite hobby, it's my passion. In the past few days I've made three jumpers for my granddaughter and finished two aprons that I had started back in spring. (The one pictured is a small apron with huge pockets.) The next step is to get them listed on etsy.

My interest in sewing began at the tender age of eight years old when I began making clothes for my Skipper doll. I learned how to use a sewing machine when I took home ec in 7th grade. By then I had the basic skills to put clothes together. They were simply larger than the minute doll clothes I fashioned out of my head. Once I mastered reading a pattern, the rest came naturally. Not so with others in my class.

I excelled at sewing. I was adept and much more advanced than my peers, whom during gym class would make sport of my height (I never mastered basketball), then would come to me for help with their sewing projects in home ec. If that was me today, I'd tell them to take a long walk on a short peer.

My home ec teacher didn't encourage my advanced sewing skills. In fact, she got quite angry when I completed a dress long before the class did, so to prove her point, she made me take the entire dress apart and start all over. My mother was very angry about this and came to the school to speak with the teacher, who had threatened to fail me for not following instructions. My mother's anger must have had an effect on the teacher who grudgingly gave me a "B" for the semester. I wasn't at all discouraged as I knew my sewing skills would continue to excel in spite of my teacher's pissy attitude.

After all these years, my passion for sewing is still there. I'm continuously learning new tricks, discovering new gadgets and finding new ways to do things I've done for years that now save me a great deal of time and make sewing even more pleasurable. Purchasing my first serger earlier this year was a wonderful treat. I'd wanted one for years but couldn't justify having one. Now that I have one, I can't imagine how I survived without one for so long. It's absolutely a fabulous enhancement to sewing lending a professional look to home made garments.

I also recently bought something else I've wanted for a long time...a stippling foot for my Husqvarna sewing machine. This attachment allows a "free form" type of stitching. Similar to doodling with a pencil, the stippling foot allows you to doodle with thread. You can create limitless designs. You can embroider, quilt, write names or make pictures. This opens a whole new world of sewing adventures and possibilities for designing anything from quilts to place mats with ease.

I've gone through spurts of sewing frenzies, where I'd buy tons of material and make a lot of things, then for a long time I wouldn't even look at my sewing machine. Over the years I've gotten involved in other hobbies which I also enjoy; mosaics, painting on glass, digital photography (another passion to which I've dedicated many blog articles), but sewing has been a constant that I return to and enjoy more than ever before. It's probably a combination of the new gadgets on the market and years of experience behind me that make it more fun now than ever.

My background in graphic design has proved to be a useful skill when sewing. Sewing melds my skills; design, creative thinking, layout, problem solving, using color, organizational and computer. These skills combined make sewing not just fun, but challenging and ever-changing.

I still struggle with some patterns and believe that the people that write the patterns don't necessarily know how to sew because much of what they say makes no sense. I've often wondered how someone new to sewing could possibly follow some of the complicated patterns out there. I've come across patterns that have their steps either reversed or completely left out! I've also learned the hard way that putting scotch tape on a zipper seam as a guide not only doesn't work, but takes forever to remove the scotch tape once you stitch over it! Bad idea, Coats & Clarks!! So much for a hint to save time. It took me well over 45 minutes to take out the minute pieces of tape stuck underneath the stitches.

I've also discovered a love of hand-sewing as a great way to relax if I'm not up to sitting at the machine. My sister showed me how to make a "Cathedral Windows" quilt, which involves cutting a 7" square piece of muslin, stitching the sides, turning it inside out and folding it in a way to make a little ravioli-looking square which is then stitched to 3 more little squares to form a block. Then you place 2x2 scraps of material in the centers to form a pattern that ultimately will resemble a stained glass window.

The quilt is made entirely by hand except for the initial side-seam sewing of the block, which I use my machine for. I imagine I'll finish that quilt when my granddaughter gets married. (She turned four years old in August.) In the meantime, I'm going to attempt to make an attic windows quilt. It has much larger pieces and won't take that long to put together. Plus I'll be able to use my cool new stippling foot to do machine quilting all over it. Very exciting!

I believe sewing will always play an important role in my life. Of course, like anything else you enjoy, there have been times I wondered what devil has taken over my brain to attempt certain projects as they've caused me a lot of grief, such as the "leather" jacket I made this spring. It was a grand undertaking, a lot harder than I thought it would be, but the end result was something I will be proud to wear for years to come. (I'll also never make another one.)

I truly believe you reap what you sew....in more ways than one.

Wind of Change

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Tue, 07 Sep 2010 05:45:00 +0000

It's been so long since I've written in my blog I don't know where to start. I've titled this post Wind of Change largely because so much has happened since my last post in April, so many changes, that indeed it seemed an appropriate title. I also happen to love the song "Wind of Change" by the Scorpions. You may listen to this song by following this link and watching the video: http://beemp3.com/download.php?file=164717&song=Wind+Of+Change

In April, I was actively pursuing work. I had a promising (or so I thought) interview at a company that I felt more than qualified to work for. They even called me back for a second interview in a different department more suited to my skills, but I believe the person I interviewed with didn't like that I actually asked questions when she asked me if I had any and took offense. That was a turning point in the interview and may (or may not) have been the reason I didn't get the job. After a couple more disappointing interviews I decided to just stop the madness and not put myself through this farce any longer. What's the point?

I threw myself into my sewing and began making garden aprons, which were easy and very enjoyable to make. I bought some beautiful material and loved matching the colors and patterns to create many unique designs. I found that sewing had become a passion I enjoyed much more than working on the computer so I devoted time to my sewing machine and bought a serger, which I've wanted for years. It's a wonderful tool and I love it.

Memorial Weekend. Jim and I went to our favorite campground, the Petoskey K.O.A. Jim left on Memorial Day (he had to work) and I stayed at the campground. The following Saturday, Jim drove back to Petoskey, spent one night, then on Sunday, we headed for our property, "Serenity Pines," which is 20 miles west of Alpena. Jim set up the trailer, and again left for home while I stayed for my 2nd week. The following weekend Jim came back for the 3rd and final trip, and towed the trailer back home while I followed in my mini-van.

By the end of my 2nd week up north, I was ready to come home. I had a wonderful, relaxing trip but was looking forward to getting back to my sewing projects and finishing my book. Little did I know what lie in store for me in the weeks that followed.

June 27th. At about 9:30 p.m. I had a strange feeling in my chest that wouldn't go away. It was as though I knew something bad was about to happen but I shrugged it off to nerves. But the feeling wouldn't go away. It wasn't a full-blown panic attack, more of a premonition.

June 28th. Nothing unusual. It was a pleasant evening and I sat on my deck. At 8:15 I came inside to change and relax for the evening. I hadn't sensed anything unusual, but that all changed when at 8:20 p.m. Laura called and told me she had gotten three emergency calls from my mother then told me she was on her way to the apartment. I told her to call me as soon as she got there. The feeling in my chest grew and I found it hard to breathe. This was it. This was the bad feeling I had had the night before. Something had happened to my mother, but I didn't know just how bad it was.

A few minutes later, she called back. "She's not here," Laura said. After calling the police department, we found out she'd fallen and broken her hip, and was in the E.R. Not until I had met my brother at the hospital did we discover that she'd fallen and then crawled from the bathroom to the living room to get to the phone. She first called Laura, who hadn't answered her phone right away, then called 911. We found out later they had to break in through the dining room window to get to her.

My brother and I saw her in the E.R. and talked to the young orthopedic doctor, who was adamant that she can no longer live alone. Period. She was scheduled for surgery on the 30th. It got late and I told my brother to go home. There was no sense in both of us being there. I'll never forget the screams as they lifted my mother from the gurney to the bed. I was in the corridor and no matter how I covered my ears, I couldn't get away from the horribly painful sounds coming from her room. I had never felt more alone or helpless. It was absolutely the worst night of my life.

By the time I'd left the hospital, it was after 1:30 a.m. and I was exhausted. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I tried to focus on the road in front of me until somehow I had reached her empty apartment and let myself inside. I had work to do but didn't even know where to begin. I pulled out the notepad I'd used to write the many things my mother had told me and got to it. After pulling addresses out of her desk drawer, watering her plants and washing the few dishes in the sink, I headed home. By that time it was 2:20 a.m.

June 30th. The morning of the surgery, the orthopedic surgeon was grave about the seriousness of the procedure and the long recovery process that would follow as he spoke to us, her three children and my niece. We all knew that given her age, the anesthesia alone could be fatal. After less than two hours, the doctor came out and told us she made it through surgery and handed me an x-ray of her newly repaired hip. A large metal plate with one giant screw, plus four smaller screws securing the broken hip bone were clearly visible. By the time my brother and I saw her back in her room, it was 4:45 and she seemed in good spirits considering what she'd been through. We left and by the time I got home at 5:45, I was mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted. I couldn't remember ever being so tired. I was too tired to form words.

For the next two months my life consisted of trips between my mother's apartment and the rehab facility. I was doing her laundry, picking up her mail and communicating with the nurses, staff and family about her progress. I also paid her bills, made trips to the post office and had to get a letter from the doctor stating she could no longer live alone so she could be released from the one year lease she'd just signed. I had to deal with utilities, change of address and explain to her neighbors what had happened to her. I hated going to that empty apartment as every corner reminded me of her. I felt her presence so strongly yet she was not there. There were numerous trips to Target, J.C. Penney and other stores as we needed to get storage units to fit her stuff into the smaller apartment. The little trips here and there seemed endless.

In mid-July, my brother and I had visited five assisted living facilities. We narrowed down the top three, and showed her the brochures. Once she chose the place she would move into without ever seeing, I got busy. There was just so much to do, many times I didn't think I could possibly get it all done, so I started making lists. The lists kept me on track and maintained my sanity. They proved to be an invaluable tool to keep me organized so that I could prioritize the many details that had taken over my life and still maintain some semblance of functionality to handle making dinner, doing grocery shopping and talking to my husband. It was overwhelming. It was exhausting and it was many times frightening.

By the end of July it was time to pack.The process was tedious, time-consuming and tiring. Since she was going into a considerably smaller apartment, some of the furniture wouldn't fit. I had questions. Where do I start? What do I keep? What do I give away? What do I sell? I had to make decisions which were sometimes at odds: logic vs. emotion. I felt I had no right to dispose of things that belonged to someone else and yet I knew they wouldn't fit into the new space so I did the best I could and kept my mother informed of my decisions, hoping I didn't make the wrong ones. One night Jim and I made a movie of her entire apartment, then showed it to her. She picked a few things she definitely wanted to keep and I had to make a judgment call on the rest.

The trips to the rehab facility were becoming tiresome and aggravating. I didn't like the nurses' attitudes and my mother's daily complaints regarding the lack of service was putting intense pressure on me. I was working as fast as I humanly could to get everything in place for when she was released but it didn't seem like it was fast enough. My stress was through the roof and my patience was dwindling. The intense, prolonged heat of the summer only added to my already frayed nerves. I was tired of sweating and working much harder than I should be working for someone with back problems. My anxiety level also increased and I wasn't sure how much more I could handle without breaking down. I felt myself cracking into a million little pieces and at the end of the day barely held it together, driving myself and my husband crazy.

In between the constant motion that had become my life, I also worried about my mother. She seemed so frail and tired. She hated therapy, complained about the cruel treatment, and despised the food. I had to keep encouraging her to keep her spirits up and get her excited about her new apartment. I told her about the swimming pool, all the amenities and how very nice the staff as well as the residents were. Mostly I feared that after all the work I'd done, she wouldn't even live long enough to see it. I voiced this to my sister as well who had felt the same thing. All we could do was pray that this didn't happen.

August 10th. I stopped at the post office and as I pulled out of the drive into traffic, I heard a loud "clunk" and after that, the van simply wouldn't move. I had barely picked up enough speed to pull into the driveway of a store next to the post office and get out of the way of the rude drivers that had angrily beeped their horns at me. It didn't help that on that day I had worn a very thick t-shirt instead of my usual tank top and it was close to 95 degrees. UGH. I called my road service and the van was towed to a transmission shop just two blocks south of where I broke down. Driver's CV joint had broken and they'd have it fixed in the morning. Jim was there shortly before the tow truck arrived and afterward we went home.

August 11th. The wonderful owner of the transmission shop picked me up and took me to the shop so I could pay him the $170.10 for fixing my van. I was beyond grateful to him both for the ride and the fast service as I simply couldn't afford to be without my van. After I left the transmission shop, I went to the assisted living facility that my mother would soon call home, paid the rent and received the key. We started moving boxes that very same night and filled both Jim's Suburban and my mini-van until they could hold no more. By Friday the 13th, we had everything moved, including the furniture. Saturday, August 14th, Jim and I went to the old apartment and vacuumed the carpet and washed the floors so that she'd get her security deposit back. Monday the 16th her mail was to be forwarded to her new address. Everything was falling into place. Her release date was scheduled for August 22nd, but I was pushing for the 20th and met my goal.

August 20th. I picked my mother up from rehab and took her to her new home. After showing her around briefly, I got her tucked into bed and made a few phone calls, then left. She loved the new apartment, but I knew it would take her a while to adjust. Plus she was still healing from her injury and quite weak. Then one week later she ended up back in the hospital for an intestinal infection. After a few days, she was released with orders to see the doctor for a follow-up in two weeks.

September 6, 2010. Jim and I spent the past couple of days up north. It was a relaxing, refreshing change from the hectic, busy pace my life had taken on in the past couple of months. There were times when I thought I would burst from the stress. I didn't know how much more I could take, but I knew this was what I had to do and I needed to come to terms with that because there simply wasn't anyone else who would (or could) do this.

I don't know what the future will hold or how long my mother will live, but I hope she will not suffer too much and can enjoy what time she has left in her beautiful new apartment I've worked so hard to make a home out of. I have always told her that I'd take care of her and would be there for her. And in my heart of hearts, I know I've done all that I could for her, and will continue to do as I promised I would many years ago.

And realizing this, I have finally found peace.

Learning With Lynda

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Fri, 16 Apr 2010 00:19:00 +0000

In January, 2009 I was conducting a strategic job search. Even after getting my resume on Monster.com, Michigan Talent Bank and Careerbuilder, I wasn't receiving a lot of attention. But I remembered many years ago there was a company called MacTemps, which is now called Acquent.

Several years ago, I was contacted by Mariam McCarthy from Acquent about a position I had applied for. It had been a while since I've spoken to her but I decided to contact her again in my quest for a productive job search. Although she wasn't able to connect me to any jobs at that time, she did provide me with a powerful resource.

Mariam recommended http://www.lynda.com. I hadn't heard of lynda.com, and asked her to tell me about it. She said it was a website where you can choose from a large library of tutorial videos to watch an unlimited amount of times at your own rate, for only $25 a month. I checked it out and soon signed up for membership and have not regretted it.

Lynda.com allows you to choose whichever course you are interested in, watch only the videos you want to watch (or watch them all) and stop/start at any time. If you watch an entire course, you receive a certificate that you can download and print or e-mail to a prospective employer.

Lynda.com offered a variety of courses; Photoshop, Illustrator, Dreamweaver, Flash, Microsoft Word, Excel, Corel Draw, AutoCad, Joomla, HTML, CSS, Digital Photograpy, ASP, PHP, Database, Content Management systems, even blogging! As of this writing, they have 40,000 videos and are adding more every week. That's over 3425 hours of continuous training!

Although a large percentage of the courses are related to both graphic and web design, there are courses offered in photography and business, such as Microsoft Word for those who need to brush up on their skills. If you are an experienced designer, you can upgrade your skills while continuing your education.

Last night I watched the video on how Lynda Weinman got started and was fascinated by it.She and her husband Bruce, share many of the same philosophies as me, so I felt a sort of kindred spirit, a parallel universe, as I love art, design and photography as well as learning new things. I have learned a lot and have been able to apply what I've learned immediately in my websites. I love that I can study as much or as little as I want, anytime I want.

I highly recommend http://www.lynda.com to anyone who is passionate about learning without leaving the house!

Rene Bellis

p.s. Since completing several courses from lynda.com, I have been getting more phone calls from prospective employers. Coincidence? Maybe. Good fortune? Definitely!

Mid-Winter Blues

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Mon, 22 Feb 2010 00:46:00 +0000

Every year at this time of year, with the tease of a sunny day I dream of spring. Friday and Saturday were beautiful, sunny days here in St. Clair Shores, Michigan. Friday's temperature reached 40 degrees. It was just a great day to be outdoors and let the sun shine on your face. But it's only temporary as another snow system is moving in tomorrow. Winter is far from over but the promise of spring makes it easier to ride of the rest of the cold stuff.

Beating the winter blues is much easier when you have hobbies. They are a great distraction from the bad weather, not to mention an outlet for creativity. Although lately, I haven't been in much of a mood for my hobbies. Could just be I'm in a rut.

It's hard for me to believe that this is the third week in February already. It seems like last week we were toasting in the New Year. Before we know it, it'll be St. Patrick's day, Easter and YES! Memorial weekend, which marks our annual first camping trip of the season to our favorite campground, Petoskey KOA. Nothing beats the winter blues better than dreaming of our favorite camping spot.

For me, January, February and March are the toughest months of the year. I suffer from "S.A.D." (Seasonal Affective Disorder) and need the sunlight to feel good. Even on a cold day, the sun will perk me up. But I really look forward to the sunny spring sunshine. I love the fresh, clean spring air and the birds chirping in the bud-filled trees. It sounds corny, but it's true. Spring is the season of rebirth and with it, anything is possible.

Craft Shows Fun & Profit

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 04:12:00 +0000

We did two craft shows in two weeks. Our mosaics were very well received. We have a decent amount of stock considering we only just started making mosaics a couple of months ago. In addition to our etsy store, http://www.mosaicillusions.etsy.com, we decided to try a couple of craft shows. Our first one was at Chippewa Valley High School on Saturday, November 14th, then this past weekend we participated in the De La Salle Holiday show. Both were very well-organized events. Since we are new to the craft show venue, we're still learning which products not only get the most attention, but which ones actually sold. No sense in making more products that people never even took a second glance at.

We have decided to pursue the mosaics and sell out the stock of our birdhouses, offering them at a huge discount. At the craft shows we are offering a "buy one, get one half off," or "buy two, get one free!" People love sales, especially around the holidays, so by offering these discounts, we expect we'll move our stock quickly. Of course, we'll keep up our etsy store as well: http://www.serenitybirdhouses.etsy.com and sell them until they're gone.

While one can certainly make money at a craft show, if you factor in the hours, the average crafter doesn't make a lot of money. Only a person who has hobbies and does crafts understands this. You simply can't factor in the time you spend and charge an hourly rate or you'd price yourself right out of the market. The biggest common denominator that all crafters share is this: We love what we do. And if we can make a few dollars doing what we love, all the better.

Crafters range from the part-time once a year show participant to the full time artist/crafter. There are different aspects of crafting for fun or crafting for a business. The main difference is if you're doing it for a business, you must treat it as such; keep good records, seek the best prices for supplies, stocking your inventory, invest in tables, tents, displays, etc. It's also important to pace yourself with how much you spend on supplies and materials. If you've ever stepped foot into an artist supply store, Joann's, Michael's, Ben Franklin, or the like, you understand what I'm talking about.

Here are a few pointers to consider if you'd like to try your hand at a craft show:

Attend the craft shows you'd like to be a part of and take a look at what kinds of vendors there are, then pay attention to what people gravitate toward.
If one particular booth is always full, chances are either the prices are low, the products are unusual (something that's not common for a show), they have A LOT of stuff (as people are naturally drawn to displays that seem to overflow with stock) or something else catches their eye.
Once you determine which shows interest you, send in your application and get going! Make lists of what you need to make, purchase and bring, long before the day of the show arrives. Be prepared as you never know what you wish you'd have brought, but don't go crazy either.
Make sure you know where to park and if someone will help you unload. Having some sort of wheeled cart is a good idea if you have heavy items. Don't lose the paperwork you are given when you register as it contains valuable information. (Many craft shows offer free donuts and coffee to their vendors!)

The day of the show has finally arrived. You're set up and ready for business. The doors are open and people are slowly drifting in to check out the show. While sipping that hot coffee and quickly munching on that free donut, you smile at your potential customers, tell them of your specials and patiently wait for your first sale. They walk by your display with barely a glance, while your neighbor has already made five sales. Don't lose heart! Lots of people "cruise" through an entire craft show, making a mental note of the vendor they will purchase from, then come back to buy later in the show.

If you are selling a larger item, offer to carry it to their car. Folks generally don't like to load themselves down while shopping. Packaging is also important. Make sure you have plenty of strong, yet attractive bags for your items (properly sized) with a business card in each one. You want to encourage repeat sales as well as maintain a professional appearance.

Suddenly, one person seems extremely interested in an item and asks a lot of questions. You explain the process, their eyes light up, they ask more questions and before you know it, they grab it, hand you the money. Congratulations! You've just made your first sale! You feel validated, victorious and a bit shocked that someone paid money for something you've created!

The craft show environment is unpredictable. You may do exceedingly well at one, and not so great at the next one. Don't take it personally or feel rejected if people walk by and don't stop to take a closer look. Not everyone likes every craft and not everyone makes a purchase. Some just like to browse, but if you have a chance to engage them in conversation and hand them a card, you never know. They may call you and buy that special item after all.

In conclusion, craft shows aren't for everyone. They are a lot of work, they take a great deal of time, demand an attention to detail, but they are can also be a lot of fun. You learn a lot at each show, meet great new people, and if you make more than you've spent, consider yourself a success because not only have you loved making your art or craft, you've sold it to someone who wanted it enough to pay for it.

Gazing Ball You Can't Stop Looking At

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 03:51:00 +0000

This is my second gazing ball! I used an old bowling ball which I found at a garage sale and gave it a new identity. This ball will be posted on my new etsy store, Mosaic Illusions.
My first gazing ball was my son's old bowling ball. What a great way to keep them out of a landfill and instead, have them fill your yard with color and light!

We have more projects in the works. I've just finished a quilt block trivet, which is ready for grout. A pencil holder and a candle holder is complete. Three sleighs will be created in a Christmas design. Five mirrors and of course, at least 7 more bowling balls that will find their place in our store as well.

But it doesn't stop there. We are going to be making tables, picture frames, mirrors, serving trays and coasters. Jim and I are both excited about making these fun and useable projects. Stay tuned!

An Old Bowling Ball Gets A New Life

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 20:44:00 +0000

No matter where I put this 16 lb. bowling ball, it rolled around and around until one day I decided it just had to go. This was the remaining bowling ball my son left behind when he moved out last year. The others ended up being sold for a pittance at a garage sale. But how does one get rid of a perfectly good bowling ball without feeling guilty about it? As the trend for "going green" continues to emerge, as it should, I am conscious of doing my part to keep things like old bowling balls out of landfills. There just had to be a way to turn this ball into something useful and I was determined to find it.

I've been a stained glass artist for many years. Being a lover of any glass art, I'd always been interested in mosaics and had been wanting to learn that craft, so one afternoon at my glass supply shop, I had purchased a book on mosaics. The book had ideas I'd never thought of; and inside was the solution I'd been searching for...using an old bowling ball as a work of mosaic art.

The gazing ball in the photo, once my son's old bowling ball, has been given a new identity as it graces the front of our home, nestled between the bushes next to the front porch. The birds love it, in fact, one of them perched on top of it today. I had always heard that birds are attracted to shiny objects, and this supports that theory.

Ironically, now both my husband and I are searching rummage and garage sales for old bowling balls. (Now I wish I'd kept the ones my son left behind!) Yesterday we hit a half dozen yard and garage sales and collected 6 more bowling balls. We filled the holes, and the balls are now ready to be transformed. I can hardly wait to start the next one! I'm thinking all mirrors. The birds will adore it and it will sparkle like a sun in its own solar system, bringing light and beauty to its surroundings instead of adding to the overflowing landfills.

Stay tuned as we breathe new life into the six new balls...

Have a Little Faith

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 03:30:00 +0000

This little flower is appropriately symbolic for my life as an entrepreneur. After leaving a "secure" job over a year ago, I struggled for months with back pain, depression, chronic fatigue and insecurity; with my life, with my future, and with myself.

Making the decision to leave my job was tough. I knew that once I walked out the door I'd never go back and would finally have the freedom to choose the direction my life would go. But to where?

Initially, after leaving my job, I had gotten a catchy business name to become a professional organizer, only to realize that physically it would not be possible. Of course, I could have hired people, but I'd have had to charge a lot more than this current market would allow, so I dropped that idea.

After two back surgeries, I'm limited, physically, in what I can do. This includes sitting, even for a half hour at a time, without some kind of back pain. The inability to sit limits my ability to work in and out of the office. It was one of the main reasons I chose to leave my desk job of 21 years. Like I said, it was tough, but the best decision for me.

As a rule, I tend to look too far into the future, which causes me unnecessary worry and grief over events that have not, or may not, happen. It's important to "plan" ahead, but don't look too far ahead because inevitably the future will change your plans. I've always cringed at the common interview question "Where do you want to be in five years?" I mean, really, how does anyone know what the near future, let alone distant future, will bring?

Logically, of course, I know why an interviewer asks that question. They want to see if you know how to plan, have goals. However, on a gut level, I've always felt that question is not only irrelevant, but unfair, as today's job market is anything but stable. Chances are the person who interviews you for a job won't be there next month. Five years? Give me a break.

I've tried many things in my life, some have failed miserably and others have been highly successful only to eventually fall through the cracks, opposite of the flower which inspired this blog. My most successful endeavors in life were ones in which I have been creative. Therefore, in order to be successful in my life, my career of choice must involve creativity.

My passions have always been writing and photography. Having the internet at my disposal to write until my heart's content in too many blog sources to count, as well as being able to post a million photos if I so choose, certainly fulfills both of my needs.

The esoteric creativity of combined writing and photography is awesome, but not without flaws. Creativity by its nature doesn't necessarily guarantee monetary success. In order to make a living, we have to sell a product, whether it is our creativity in a neat package, or a physical product we use to enrich our lives. It's difficult to work at something and sell it too and hiring someone to sell for you isn't always an option if you have no money to pay them.

That's where faith comes in. Faith is the invisible bridge that holds us up when we feel like falling down. Faith is what carries us through when our world seems to crumble around us; people let us down, prices continue to rise, incomes plummet, more people lose their jobs. It's easy to lose faith in what you once believed in.

Sometimes life boils down to faith. Faith that we CAN and will survive, no matter what life throws at us. Faith that we CAN make our dreams a reality and recover what we've lost. After all, if faith is gone, what's left?

Priceless Moments

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Thu, 23 Jul 2009 01:25:00 +0000

My love of photography began with my first camera, a Bell & Howell instamatic, which I received as a graduation gift in 1972. Over the years, I've owned many cameras; instant point-and-shoot, 35mm, even disposable. I've always been told I have "a good eye" for taking photos. Well, no doubt as I absolutely love photography. You could say it's one of my many artistic obsessions.

My experience with digital photography began six years ago when I bought my first digital camera, an Olympus with 4 megapixels. My digital photographic skills have grown, blossomed, you could say, and I soon realized that my skills had outgrown the Olympus's features. It was time to look for a new camera.

After researching, I decided on a 10 megapixel Canon which has the bells and whistles my Olympus could only dream about (sorry Olympus!) I'm continuously amazed at the many features my new camera has. Within minutes I'm able to post an entire afternoon's worth of photos online to share with family and friends. Amazing. Powerful. Fun!

Living in the 21st century, we've come to expect and demand things that give us pleasure while saving us time and money. If you love photography and gadgetry as much as I do, chances are you also love the ease at which a digital camera freezes the moment and shows it to you, immediately! Magical, exciting, powerful, the digital camera allows us to use photography at its full potential; and not sacrificing the integrity of the craft, but enhancing it.

Being a parent of two children and two grandchildren, I value, more than ever, capturing the special moments of their lives. Photographs immortalize the moment. When we give someone a photograph, we give them a legacy that would otherwise be lost. Digital photography makes it faster, easier than ever before to capture and share those important moments.

Life in the 21st century seems to move at warp speed. Everyone is so busy they hardly remember what they ate for dinner yesterday. Too much activity, too little time. Therefore, it's vital we take time and share those special moments. Likely we won't get a second chance. Time is continuous; it carries on long after we're gone. Our lives are finite. Memories fade.

Photos allow us to capture the moment, and share those moments we hold closest in our hearts.

And that is truly priceless.

Enjoying a Cool Summer

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Fri, 17 Jul 2009 20:59:00 +0000

This has indeed been a cool summer. With an average daytime temperature of 75 degrees, it's exactly the perfect summer for me. I know many people prefer much warmer weather, but personally, I love this cooler weather. I love the low humidity and the cool nights. I especially love not having to use the air conditioner, not once, this season! And that's a HUGE savings in electricity.

Of course, I could do without the wind. It's hard to take a good photo or attempt to do anything involving paper outdoors. Because of the strong wind, we've had to keep our patio umbrellas down more than up this summer. I don't want to replace the umbrellas every summer.

Today we took the kids to Memorial Park. Mackenzee enjoyed the slide and loved climbing all over the other park structures designed for kids only. Hunter enjoyed watching his sister, but of course, he loves everything she does. The noiser, the better. Got to enjoy that while we can, because knowing kids, it won't last.

Yeah, it's been a cool summer so far, but August could still blast us with the heat and humidity more common this this time of year. Me, I'm enjoying the cool summer because I can function better when sweat isn't pouring into my face. But that's just me.

Serenity Arrives

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Thu, 11 Jun 2009 04:36:00 +0000

I've been busy the past couple months since my last blog entry. I finally got our birdhouse website up and running, although any web designer worth his salts knows that a website is never really done. It's an evolving, changing, moving, living force that grows and takes on its own personality.

I must admit, I wasn't sure I could get into this "web design" thing. In fact, I was convinced I'd simply NEVER get it. When my brother first handed me an HTML book, I sat down and opened the first page and began to read. The more I read, the more confused I became. I finally put the book down, completely frustrated and depressed. I thought to myself, "If this is the stuff I need to learn to be a web designer, I may as well sign up to become a rocket scientist. It was THAT intimidating.

Well, somewhere along the line my German stubborn-ness kicked in and I became even more determined to not only learn this stuff, but conquer it and make my own mark, albeit a small one on the world wide web. It was that determination and drive that pushed me past my "normal" limits, into the vast world HTML.

Michelle guided me through it, then gently pushed me off the cliff. It was up to me to either land on the ground in a heap or try out my web wings and fly. I chose to fly....a nice metaphor for the Serenity Birdhouses.

Admittedly, I have much to learn and it's a process, much like the website, but at least I have a better concept of how everything ties together (and it does), than I did when I started. It may take me a while to get there, but get there I will...much like the tortoise, slowly, surely, and one web page at a time.

An Artist's Perspective

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Sat, 04 Apr 2009 02:10:00 +0000

While attending college, one of my favorite instructors told me I had a "passion" for art. She had also said she had seen many students come and go throughout her career and felt that I was one of those students who really connected with their work. I was flattered, but more so, surprised because I simply couldn't imagine an artist not being connected to their work.

I tend to see artistic beauty ordinary things in ways that only an artist can and luckily, a pretty fertile imagination. The other day while Jim and I had lunch at Olga's, I noticed something that surely escaped nearby patrons as they munched on their curly fries. While looking out the four-paned window, I noticed a tree just outside the building. Most people would only see a window, or maybe not even notice it at all. What I saw was a framed piece of art: the four window panes framed the tree just beyond it, creating a still life. I've seen similar such photographs in table-top black and white art books.

It's highly rewarding and at the same time frustrating to be an artist. The constant inspiration can be exhausting. I've recently rediscovered my love of painting, only this time using acrylic instead of oil paint. It's relaxing and easy to lose track of time when I paint. It’s the same thing with writing...once I get inside the head of one of my characters, it’s hard to return to myself. But whether I'm writing the great American Novel, painting a daisy, or cutting glass for a mosaic project, I thrive on creativity. Whenever I connect with my creative self, I simply breathe easier.

Become aware of your world and you'll see not only the beauty surrounding you, you'll also find what's not obvious at first, such as the tree framed by the window that I saw at Olga's. Watch how the setting summer sun creates long, hard shadows and builds intensity just before dusk.

As a child, when asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" my answer was simple: an artist. And judging by my interests and passions, I'd say I fulfilled my dream.

Family & Fun Photos to Share

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Fri, 27 Mar 2009 00:50:00 +0000

I hope you enjoy this slide show!

I Need a 48 Hour Day

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Tue, 10 Mar 2009 01:56:00 +0000

I've read that if you feel as though you never have enough hours in a day is a symptom of stress. Beyond the fact that I am stressed out because every waking minute is occupied with thoughts of finding work, I feel I simply don't have enough hours in a day to accomplish everything I've decided I need to accomplish.

Since I admittedly have never been a morning person, by the time I actually become efficient with my day, it's after 11:00 a.m. Since being unemployed, I've developed a routine of sleeping in, watching "The Doctors" at 10:00, channel surfing between it and Martha Stewart (who seems to indeed have at least a 48 hour day because of everything she seems to accomplish).

I love my morning routine, in fact, have labeled it my "happy hour" from the days I worked, and on my vacation or sick days would indulge in watching Martha Stewart, who is either my nemesis or idol depending on the mood I'm in.

Maybe it would benefit me to join the ranks of the "rise and shine" early people who have been linked to becoming wealthy along with already being wise, but I just can't bring myself to becoming a morning person. I feel it's wrong to fight your body's natural rhythm of waking and sleeping. I have always functioned better in the later afternoon and evening. It's when I'm the most focused and creative.

I've never been wealthy, but would welcome the opportunity to find out what it feels like, just once, sometime before I die. Plus, I have had enough life experience to know I'm not unwise, and also know I have not yet reached my full potential or fulfilled my life purpose.

Chances are pretty good that I will never be a morning person, nor will I enjoy getting up four hours earlier than I am accustomed to arising, but I also I realize that it may become necessary if I were to land a job. I also firmly believe that if one enjoys what they're doing and have a real purpose in life, incidentals like getting up early become insignificant compared to the stress created by not having an income.

Knowing that I'm not a morning person, I usually become productive in the later afternoon. I also acknowledge that even if I got up at the crack of dawn, I'd probably still go to sleep at the end of the day feeling as though I'd left many things unaccomplished. Therefore I've decided in order to get it all done, I need a 48 hour work day!

Realistically, it's simply not possible for me to acquire more hours in a day unless I sacrificed sleep, something I physically and mentally cannot do. Therefore it becomes necessary to stay focused without getting burned out, accomplish as much as I humanly can and try not to stress out about it at the end of the day.

Memories of March

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 00:09:00 +0000

The month of March holds special memories for me. It was the month I got my driver's license. It was (and is) the last month of the first quarter of the year. It is also the month when I feel that inner tingle which signifies an anticipation, hope for the emergence of spring.

I have always felt that once I make it through January, February and March, I deserve to look forward to April & May, hence warmer weather and welcoming of spring. Although, living in Michigan, making it through March doesn't necessarily mean we're through with snow, as to which we rugged Michiganders can attest. It just means that the bulk of winter's windy wiles are behind us and we can soon embrace better weather.

For me March also punctuates life and death. It was the month my firstborn, Andrew, was born; and the month both my father and father-in-law died. This March 3rd will be the 20th anniversary of my father's death and on March 13th, the 7th anniversary of my father-in-law's death.

Nothing ever prepares you for the loss of a parent. Even when death is imminent, acceptance has been met, and the arrangements have been made, the actual loss and its effect on your soul can't be described, only felt by those of us who are left behind.

Watching my father's chest rattle as he took his last breath on that cold, windy March evening was the most profound experience of my life. Both my sister and I held our collective breaths as he took his last one. I knew the exact moment he passed from this life to the eternal mysterious one as I touched his cold hand and watched his skin turn almost translucent.

But the single most powerful memory happened moments before he took his last breath...it was when I saw him smile. It was then that I knew he was going to a better place, a place where he would no longer suffer and finally be at peace.

Twenty years later and I still miss my dad. I miss his wacky humor, his funny smile, his lame jokes and his creative mind. When I hold my beautiful granddaughter close, I wonder if my dad watches us; or if he laughs at the way my grandson giggles at his older sister when she tickles him.

Somehow I sense his spirit and feel his presence guiding me through the hardest times. It's at those times I dream of him and he comforts me, always. It's at those times when I realize he'll always be a part of me the same as I will be a part of my children and grandchildren.

After all is said and done, the most valuable legacy we leave behind, is love.

Why Supply & Demand Determines Value

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Fri, 27 Feb 2009 21:25:00 +0000

What is the best determination of value? Many years ago as a real estate agent, I was taught that a home's value is determined by the price someone is willing to pay for it. In today's dismal real estate market, that's bad news for sellers and great news for buyers.

But, does that mean that suddenly your home (car, boat, rv, jewelry, etc.) has lost its original value? It all depends on how you personally define value. In fact, the less someone is willing to pay for something, the more valuable it becomes to us, and the more sense it makes to keep it.

If I'm confusing the issue, let's look at it this way. Unemployment has grown to a frightening level. People who have devoted years to their jobs are losing them left and right. And the common question they ask themselves is, "What do I do now?" Years ago if you lost your job, you'd just send out some resumes, get interviewed and get another job. That's no longer the case.

Back to supply and demand. Too many people out of work and not enough jobs available for everybody. Employers know this. It gives them license to implement elaborate screening techniques to "weed out" the undesirables; those less qualified to meet their unrealistic job requirements that a few years ago would not have been an issue.

Unemployment does not discriminate to just those without formal education. It's rapidly becoming an epidemic. It seems that every day I hear of yet someone else I know losing their job. And the sad part is it may not change anytime soon.

My question is this: does an unemployed person lose their original value? Does unemployment automatically erase the skills and experience a person has worked so hard to achieve? It would seem so, because what potential employers are willing to pay is directly affected by supply and demand of people applying for those positions.

The most obvious solution to this dilemma is to lower the unemployment rate by creating jobs and shifting the balance of supply and demand in favor of the workforce. Offer training and use the transferable skills people have and apply them to the newly created jobs. Get people back to work and stop outsourcing their jobs.

My thoughts on economic stimulus or tax refund checks: No matter how great a discount we are offered, or how low the interest rate is, these tactics simply won't entice us to buy (thus, boost the economy) unless we have a weekly check to pay for them.

Moving Forward With Change

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Wed, 25 Feb 2009 21:20:00 +0000

Life is all about change. Change is not only necessary, it is inevitable. It's been said that the only thing that never changes, is change itself. The more we fight change, the tougher its impact on us. Therefore, it's to our advantage to adapt to, if not embrace, change.

Every minute of every day brings about subtle changes in our world. While each day is a duplicate of the previous day, at the same time it is a brand new day, the ultimate paradox, isn't it? The sun rises over the horizon, scattering the twilight as the last vestiges of nighttime vanish and a new day begins. We don't question it; we expect it.

As humans we rely on the cues of nature to prompt us forward in our lives. And at times it's though we are moving at warp speed into an unknown, uncharted territory of tomorrow's mysteries, while we ponder yesterday's regrets.

But all we truly have is today, right now, this minute. Tomorrow is promised to no one, so it's important to live each day as if it's our last and let the regrets go. Stop telling yourself that "someday (this) and someday (that)." Instead, look ahead, not behind you. Move forward and ride the coattails of change; and learn to embrace it. You never know just where it may lead.

Spring Tease

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Wed, 11 Feb 2009 00:46:00 +0000

Today the temperature reached 58 degrees. It was one of those mid-winter "bonus" days that tease you into thinking spring has arrived...but don't don the light jackets just yet. It's still winter, despite the deceptively warmer temperatures we've been enjoying for a few days. Had this day arrived in April, I'd allow myself to be more optimistic, but in February it's just a little bonus.

But then again, it's hard not to fantasize about the warm summer sunshine on my face...imagine a cool ice tea with lots of lemon as I sit under my umbrella on the deck and read a compelling novel.

This summer Jim and I especially look forward to taking our 2-1/2 year old granddaughter, Mackenzee, on her first camping trip. We will definitely enjoy watching Mackenzee explore and learn about the "Great Outdoors." She is already looking forward to going camping in Papa's "Twaylor."

The promise of spring is always a time to anticipate, followed by the glorious sunshine days of summer. It's difficult not to want to rush time along to get out of the winter doldrums, but then again, I don't want to wish my life away. I've learned that it's too short and precious, so I want to enjoy every minute of it while I continue to discover all that life has to offer.

I Admit It...I'm A Book Junkie

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Sat, 07 Feb 2009 21:47:00 +0000

For most people a bookstore is just another store that happens to be filled with books. For me, it's a sanctuary. There's something terribly exciting about being surrounded by all that knowledge. If there's anyplace I can surely get lost in time and space, it's at a bookstore. After a couple of hours of browsing, I'm compelled to quickly make a decision on which book or books to purchase before my husband has to propel me toward the doorway sometime before the bookstore closes its doors and shoves me out on my ears.

For me, a bookstore has always been a welcoming, inviting place to hang out. At first I find myself browsing the new releases and eventually end up in various areas, not necessarily searching for anything specific, but searching nonetheless. I'm simply compelled to look at, and ultimately admire, books. And it's quite amazing how certain books seem to call out to me as if they silently communicate a message they unknowingly sense I need at that time of my life.

The library has much the same effect, minus the smell of freshly brewed Starbuck's coffee. I can spend hours browsing the library's shelves and seldom do I leave with less than 4 or 5 books on several subjects. Funny, I seldom read each book cover to cover, but I always end up with many books. Much like a child in a candy store, I can't make up my mind. I want them all.

They are so much more than bound covers and words between pages! Books have indeed become an integral part of my life, much like my best friends. Since I'm always looking for answers, I'm always looking to expand my knowledge to share with others. Books provide both. Of course, they're also a great escape and an excellent source of entertainment.

My life-long goal has been to be one of the inspiring authors who grace the shelves of the bookstores I frequent. It's not an easy road, to be sure, but a road worth traveling. There's simply something magical that transpires between an author and a reader and my deepest desire is to be among those who make a lasting impression upon my readers and to leave my words behind long after I'm gone. It's a legacy I look forward to.

Left Brain vs. Right Brain

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 00:11:00 +0000

When you walk into a room, what do you see? Do your eyes sweep the room, taking everything in at once? Or do you look at each element and pick out the details? Do you study shapes and sizes of objects? Are you fascinated by the textures and colors of nature? Or would you rather figure out the most efficient way to balance your checkbook? How you answer these questions may determine if you are right or left brain dominated.

At times I'm convinced that I'm a left-brain individual. I tend to be analytical, logical and detail-oriented. But then again, I can also be intuitive, impetuous, artistic and creative, all of which are right-brain characteristics. I'd always been interested in this fascinating part of being human. In fact, last year my two hemispheres had their own discussion about it without my knowledge. Here's the dialog of the left and right sides of my brain:

Left brain: "Look what time it is! We've got to get back to work."
Right brain: "Leave me alone. I'm reading."
Left brain: "But I'm bored. Oh, wow! Look at that snow! I bet there's at least six inches on the ground. It'll take us at least an hour to get home. Then we have to make dinner, wash dishes, make lunch for tomorrow, take a shower and..."
Right brain: "Stop distracting me! Can't you tell I'm busy? Get a life, will ya? We've only got 45 minutes left of this hour, thanks to you and your distractions!!"
Left brain: "Ok. I'll think about something else. I should have gotten gas yesterday. This morning it was 25 cents more. I'd give anything to have the gas prices of 1972. Gosh, I miss 1972. Life was much easier back in '72."
Right brain: "Bob Seger wrote a song about 1972. I miss it too…life was easier. Hey, maybe I should write a book about owning a 1964 Beetle in which the heater never, ever worked and the necessity of always keeping a blanket wrapped around your legs. Hmmmm, winter, car, skating, being a kid. You go ahead and worry. You do it enough for the both of us anyway. I'll just keeping traveling down memory lane. I'd rather go there than back to work anyway."

Forty-five minutes later, left brain goes back upstairs, sits at the desk, and starts working, while right brain is silently planning the next story idea and admiring all the colorful trees on the path down memory lane when suddenly, it sees a bear on a deserted country road while thunder rumbles in the distance…

Dan Miller and 48 Days

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 19:37:00 +0000

Do you love your job? If the answer is YES, then don't bother reading the rest of this post. If the answer is an astounding NO, then please read on.

Last summer while going through a personal career crisis as well as suffering from work-related stress and anxiety, I was searching for some answers and I inevitably found myself standing in front of the "Entrepreneur" section at Barnes & Noble, hoping that something would "grab" me from that shelf. I wasn't even sure what I was looking for when this book seemed to jump out at me. It is called, "48 Days To The Work You Love," by Dan Miller. I'd never heard of Dan Miller, but my friend Debbie had told me about Dave Ramsey and when I saw his name as the foreword writer on this book, it merited retrieval from the shelf. Upon thumbing through the pages, I soon found myself intrigued by what I saw and gladly made the purchase, anxiously returning home to start reading it. Little did I know that book of 224 pages would soon change my life.

Dan's philosophy is that we not only can pursue work we love and fulfill our purpose, it is our obligation to ourselves and our fellow man (woman) to do exactly that. He explains that work should be something we enjoy doing, not hate. I found myself underlining so many things in this book that I had bought a special pen just to keep in the book so I wouldn't have to search for one while reading. Right from the start, Dan explains how vital it is to love what you do. A quote from one of the first few pages says, "You could perform as others expect and get a paycheck, but you are not likely to experience meaning, purpose, peace, or fulfillment in work you loathe." This was an eye-opening statement if I ever read one.

I had made the decision to leave my job for many reasons, mostly because I knew in my heart it was the right thing to do at the right time. Physically, I was incapable of performing at a level I knew was expected to keep up with the increasing demand of the industry. Mentally I was exhausted and knew if I didn't make a change soon that I'd be in trouble. Spiritually I searched for meaning in my own life and how to make the last half of my life the best. I knew it wasn't going to happen if I kept up the insane pace I had been struggling with. The book was encouraging and informative. Dan wasn't just a life coach, he was a life-saver.

In today's struggling economic climate, the challenge of finding work is harder than ever. Unemployment is reaching frightening proportions. Because of this, finding a job with so many people out of work can be overwhelming, and finding "meaningful" work sounds impossibly daunting. Enter the endless cycle of negative reinforcement. How do you break this cycle?

After reading 48 Days, I believe that not only is it possible to alter the course of our work life, but that the dire straits of a failing economy may actually be the catalyst needed to fuel the creative engine and get the ideas flowing in ways that being in the "comfort zone" and routine of a good economy would never encourage.

Another quote from the book is: "It is often in the midst of change and challenges that we find our own true direction." A wonderfully inspiring statement!

Dan puts "failure" in the right perspective. We can learn to use our failures to bring a higher level of understanding, meaning, purpose, fulfillment and learning to our lives. We have the power to make positive changes if we first identify what our "unique purpose" is on this earth. I am still searching for my life's path, but I feel that since reading Dan Miller's 48 Days book, I now have a compass and road map to get there and I'm about 99% sure that my course involves writing. That's why I started this blog.

SO - whether you are job-seeking, soul-searching or simply need inspiration, please pick up a copy of Dan Miller's "48 Days To The Work You Love." I highly recommend this book as well as "No More Mondays." Both books and so much more are available on Dan's website. If you click on the banner at the bottom of this blog, it will take you directly to Dan's phenomenal website. Sign up for the newsletter and listen to his podcasts! You can download them directly from itunes, as it is explained on the website. Trust me, it'll change your life!

A Journey Worth Taking

noreply@blogger.com (Rene Bellis) — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 02:18:00 +0000

Since I left my job last August, I've been on a personal journey, trying to best determine what I wanted to do the rest of my life and make money doing so, while not compromising my health, sanity and happiness. It's been interesting and eye-opening, to say the least.

When I made the decision to leave the DMP (Detroit Media Partnership, aka Detroit News & Free Press), I was full of flash and fire. I had planned on starting my own business as a personal organizer. It seemed like a great idea since I am naturally organized and seem to have a knack for finding "a place for everything." I went so far as to get an LLC, "Got Clutter?" which I thought was an original and funny, yet relevant name for the budding business-to-be. I ordered business cards and told people about my business idea. My idea was well-received by my soon-to-be ex-coworkers, who wished me well on my new career as a personal organizer.

When I first left last August, I just wanted a break. I wanted to take some time off and enjoy the rest of the summer as well as my new grandson, Hunter, who was born July 18th. I enjoyed being a grandma yet again with adorable new baby Hunter, as well as my beautiful angel-baby, Mackenzee, who was turning two years old on August 31st. There was plenty of time to launch my new business venture.

As summer turned to fall, and eventually winter, with the holidays rapidly approaching, I realized that my so-called brilliant idea of becoming a personal organizer was a poor choice. Not because I couldn't pull it off, but because the job would have required bending and lifting and other things that I'm incapable of doing with my back problems, so I gave up the idea of becoming a personal organizer, as much as I liked it initially.

Divine Intervention
Late October I reconnected with a former co-worker and friend, Michelle, who found me through Facebook. Michelle is a web designer who resides in Texas. Her website is: http://www.studio1c.com. Thanks to Michelle, I've learned the basics of web design and continue to learn more and more, getting comfortable with terms like SEO, HTML and internet marketing. I've designed a website for Jim's carpentry business to attract viable customers while continuously increasing our web presence. Please visit: http://www.belliscarpentry.com.

Passion Plays an Important Role
Without passion, the soul is a lonely, empty place. With passion one can perform miracles. This form of passion had been missing from my life, the ability to openly pursue my options, find my life's work and redirect my future onto a path on which I truly belong. I've had to travel down many dead-end roads to find my path, but it was a journey worth taking as I've discovered an internal road map to my destination, combining my skills as an artist, hobbyist and writer.

I've always thrived while creating things with my hands as well as my mind. You could say creating for me is an obsession. I especially love to sew and lately I have been rediscovering just how much I enjoy being in harmony with my Husqvarna.

For the last several months I've been enjoying and using my craft room with a vengeance. In that 9x10 space I feel closer to my real self than I do anyplace else. So it made perfect sense to move my sewing machine and cutting table from their spots in the frigid basement into my warm, cozy craft room. Because of the proximity to the laptop, printer, and other craft items, it is easier to jump in and start a sewing project because everything is accessible. And I don't miss freezing my hands and feet while working in the basement!

Sewing is a seamless (no pun intended) effort in which to use my skills as a designer, artist and writer. I've recently designed my own oven mitt pattern which I'm selling at http://www.createdbyrene.etsy.com. I look forward to designing more patterns to sell.

I need to focus in order to write. Writing is hard work and takes an enormous amount of self-discipline. For a few years I haven't been able to focus on my writing. Writer's block has contributed to mental anguish, as writing is another passion. Reading is another passion, which I do endlessly on various subjects, always learning and enjoying what I discover. Many times I get frustrated with myself because I'd rather be reading than writing, but it's hard to justify one without the other.

My journey of many months has led me to discover many things about myself:
- It's vital for me to work at my own pace, earn a decent living and enjoy what I do
- My work must be creative and include hands-on design blended with writing
- It's important for me to help people achieve their goals and find their passions
- I'm open to new ideas and constantly search to improve older ones
- I must continue to learn and educate myself as I am a lifelong student
- My health is an essential key to my future successes and I must fight for it
- Keeping friendships flourishing and family in harmony is vital to my strength
- Balance is crucial to keeping one's perspective
- A sense of humor is helpful in stressful times

I hope you enjoy my blog as I continue my journey.

Happy trails!