Photo: Tiffany Anthony
THE MISSING PEARLS 

I have a catchphrase I use whenever something goes missing: someone stole it.   

For instance, thirty-some years ago when my husband and I were moving into our new house, a box of valuables went missing.  I looked everywhere for it and came to the conclusion that garbage men must have taken it.  Which turned out to be absurd and oh so wrong.  The box eventually turned up.  

But now this catchphrase is the only explanation for the empty mother-of-pearl jewelry box on the nightstand by my bed.  This case held something special, something personal, something beautiful and delicate—a double strand pearl necklace that belonged to my bubbie.  

I had rummaged through every dresser drawer.  I've looked under the bed.  I've searched the closet: on shelves of folded sweaters, inside shoes, between clothes on hangers, and behind hats, under laundry baskets and bookbags.  I turned the bedroom upside down and inside out, looked high and low and knew in my heart the necklace had been ripped off.   

Over the years, we've had painters and carpenters in the house.  It never occurred to me to hide the necklace.  The pearls flowed freely from the jewelry box like a beaded waterfall, but I never thought it would interest others, invite others, tantalize and tempt.  So, I beat myself up for being so careless, for not guarding something that I loved and valued.   

My husband assured me it would show up.  But he was wrong.  Even though I have no proof someone took it, I had a lingering suspicion that the necklace had been lifted and I laid the blame on others.   

You could say buy another.  But that's not the point.  A new necklace would never do.  I want the necklace that graced my grandmother's neck. 

My bubbie worked at the grocery store she and my grandfather owned.  On her feet Monday through Friday.  Never complained.  She was a kind person who extended credit to people for kosher meat, knowing they probably would never be able to pay their bills.  She rarely wore the necklace—she and my grandfather didn't go out that much.  But I like to imagine she reached for the pearls whenever she went to synagogue. I can see her touching them lightly as she recited, "Barukh Attah Adonai Eloheinu Melekh ha-Olam, O Lord our God, King of the universe." 

It's been ten years and counting since I've last seen the pearls.  I am crushed they are missing—the pearls held memories of my grandmother.  It was a physical way I could connect with her.  

I used to imagine a package arriving.  A small package without a return address.  A package wrapped in regret.  I would rip it open and find the necklace.  It would be accompanied with a note:  I believe this belonged to you. 

But I know this would never happen.  The necklace was gone for good.   

I think of my grandmother and sweet memories arise and my skin tingles as if she's passed right through me.  Her heavenly voice says, "You don't need pearls to have me nearby."  

You might think this is the end of the story, but there's more.  

As you may have guessed, I never received a package with a note and the necklace. Such is the stuff of dreams.

But during the Christmas break, I mentioned the stolen jewelry to my daughter and she told me she had a double strand necklace. I was so wrapped up believing in my little catchphrase, so convinced the necklace had been stolen that I had forgotten I’d given it to her.

The jewelry box is empty and it will remain empty, not because I don’t have other items for it, but because it serves as a reminder. A reminder of something missing and then found. Of something loved and valued. Of something special. Of something personal, beautiful, and delicate.  Of something passed down.  My daughter keeps her great grandmother’s necklace—and it belongs with her.  

 À la prochaine! 

I confess... 

I love the holidays. 

Wishing everyone a very happy holiday season!

I look forward to sharing more musings,  

opinions, and confessions 

with you next year. 

Coming the first week of January: 

the mystery of the missing pearls

               

                                                                                                                                                          Photo: Word Wise Tips

'TWAS THE MONTH BEFORE CHRISTMAS 

I confess I'm not a fan of Christmas letters.  

During the holiday season, my husband and I receive a handful of single-spaced letters typed on the front and on the back.  

So many words.  

In some holiday letters, photos are added here and there and I can't help but wonder if the sender thinks this will break up the text in order to make the reading more bite-size and thus more pleasurable. 

When one arrives in the mail, I put it side.  A holiday letter is a time commitment.  I have to fit it into my schedule in order to read it from start to finish.  

But senders may have a different vision of how their letters are perceived.  Perhaps they imagine me eagerly tearing into the envelope, pulling out reading glasses, and being enthralled with the 1000-word letter that consists of exotic vacations, camping trips, biking trips, the 4th of July celebrations, concerts, news about the kids, the grandkids, the pets.  Wait...did I miss something?  Yes, the grand pets. 

In most cases, these letters are sent with love to inform and to stay connected, yet sometimes, they seem to come across as bragging, and to me that is a put-off.  

On the other hand, I love receiving Christmas cards.  You know, the sparkly ones with glitter that sticks to fingers and to every surface they touch.  These cards portray serene winter scenes with snowy trees and frosted wreaths, deer and cardinals, ice-skaters and villages.  Often times, the senders may even include a hand-written note.  And they can even be displayed on mantels and bookshelves.  As for showing off the long-winded Christmas letters?  Hmmm...I think not.  

There are probably a gazillion people who love receiving the holiday letters.  They may even look forward to them.  And I would too, if they were shorter and more interesting.  If they were addressed to me instead to friends.  

Sad to say, so many of the letters that my husband and I receive lack a sincere way to communicate during the holidays.  Many friends haven't discovered how to write concise letters that I would actually look forward to reading.  

If you're among those who enjoy writing a holiday letter, I applaud your efforts, but I have some questions for you: 

Is your letter merely a month-by-month account of your accomplishments and travels?  And, is it the stuff your readers can relate to?    

Christmas will soon be upon us and I hate to be the one to tell you, but nobody wants to slog through a long self-centered letter.  So, I challenge you to come up with a short humble recap of the year and write personalized note at the end.  

And if you can do that, I will find the time to sit down and enjoy your letter.   

À la prochaine!

For more on writing a great holiday letter, check these tips.

 https://blog.cardsdirect.com/holidays-special-occasions/tips-for-great-christmas-letters/

 https://www.nonprofitcopywriter.com/write-a-Christmas-letter.html

SIGNS

I look for signs from the Universe to give me guidance and assurance—whether it's words, an animal, songs, or Nature.

For instance, whenever I watch the tennis grand slams on television, the camera usually pans to the well-known quote at the US Open: "Pressure is a privilege" and the one at the French Open:  "Victory belongs to the most tenacious."  These words inspire me to persevere with writing. 

Or, take the time I saw Elton John perform in Lexington, Kentucky.  When he sang "I'm Still Standing," the song reminded me to stay strong and keep submitting even when my manuscripts are rejected.  

Sara Wiseman, published author and a visionary teacher of spiritual intuition invites us to be open to all kinds of signs, especially those from Nature.  She says, "We are used to thinking about signs and synchronicities in the old way—that we will receive a message in language or symbol, such as a street sign, or a sentence in a book, or an email that comes at the exact right moment.  Often, the Universe sends us beautiful messages using Nature.  We come across something unexpected and beautiful and the answer to our question become clear.  We experience something unexpected and surprising, and we are jolted into clarity. " 

On that note, I once received an unusual and unexpected sign.  After submitting a query, I glanced down and noticed an oak leaf at my foot.  On the carpet under my desk.  Oak leaves symbolize strength and endurance.  

And one evening after ballet class, I spotted a vibrant rainbow.  It spanned the entire sky.  Rainbows symbolize good luck, happiness, health, hope, and optimism. 

Then, the other day a honey bee playfully buzzed around my grocery cart and darted inside my car.  (A week later while I was vacationing in Alaska, a honey bee rode on the windshield of our rental car.)  I've read that a bee appears as a spirit animal when dealing with a heavy burden.  The bee supports us in accomplishing the most difficult challenges and encourages us to be open to the infinite possibilities of the universe.  For me, the bee reminds me to listen to my intuition and my instincts when facing the difficult task of querying agents. 

And recently I read a post on Twitter/X written by an agent who tried to revive a dehydrated dragonfly.  A few hours later, a dragonfly hovered over my car.  Dragonflies represent change, moving out of our comfort zones, honoring our emotions, and reminds us to let our own light shine forward.

I don't force myself to be on the lookout for signs.  They find me.  Then it's up to me to understand why this sign has appeared and ask why it has appeared now.  I have to interpret the sign and apply it to my circumstances.  Signs don't come to me every day.  They appear when the Universe feels I need them the most.

So, I encourage you to keep an open mind.  The Universe is trying to reach you.  To teach you.  Recognize signs that may come your way, especially through Nature.  Wiseman says,  "If you are not sure how Nature is talking to you, why not take today, and simply ask for a sign?  And then, see what Nature brings you." 

 À la prochaine!

Messages from the Divine by Sara Wiseman

                                                                                                                                                        Photo: Paul Hanaoka

I CAN'T HELP IT 

I'm extremely organized.  Not a brag.  Just the facts.

But I never expect others to notice or to comment until one day at the grocery store a clerk surprised me by saying, "You're so organized."

When I go to the grocery store my list is printed in the order in which I will begin shopping, starting with the produce, then canned goods, cereals, snacks, cat food, household cleaners, meats, frozen foods and lastly the pharmacy needs. Each item goes into its designated bag in the cart: produce in the green bag, canned goods in the white one, meats go in blue and dairy in black.  These bags are put on the conveyor belt where a grocery clerk empties them and scans each item and the bagger puts them back into their assigned bags.  It may a little over the top, but it works for me.  

My organizational skills come in handy when packing for a vacation.  I use packing cubes to keep clothes folded and neatly stacked in the order in which I will wear them.  The outside of the cubes are

 

labeled with a short description of the contents.  This method helps me find outfits and makes getting dressed easier.  I won't have to think about what to wear.  A day before vacation, I check the weather forecast for our destination and make necessary changes to the packing if needed.

As you can imagine, the kitchen pantry is neatly organized.  Snacks are stored in large plastic tubs.  Other food items are placed in baskets.  This system keeps similar foods grouped together and makes finding foods much easier—though my husband questions why his breakfast foods (the oatmeal and tea bags) have to be in baskets.  I show him how nice the pantry looks.  He smiles and humors me.   

Open up a bathroom cabinet under the sink and you'll find baskets keeping hair products, toothpaste, soap, and makeup looking tidy.  Inside the bathroom closet, jeans are neatly folded on shelves, athletic wear is placed in bins, and shoes fit into cubbies.  In a large wicker basket under the bathroom counter, towels are folded and artistically arranged.

Take a peek in a bedroom closet and you'll find clothes arranged in color groups: whites, yellow, pink, navy, light blue, violet, maroon, and black.  

Occasionally, my kitchen desk is cluttered with mail, books, bags, and recipes and the guest room bed is strewn with stacks of clothing waiting to be packed for a vacation.  But as you can imagine, this disorder doesn't last long.  

I can't help it—being organized is just the way I am.  What surprises me is when others I hardly know notice.  Especially at the grocery store.  I never thought it was that obvious.  But, come on.  The color-coordinated grocery bags?  What a dead giveaway.  

 À la prochaine!

  

                                                                                                         photo by: Amat Martinez Vilà

ITTY-BITTY THINGS 

I confess I get annoyed when folks complain about itty-bitty things.   

This happens regularly on our neighborhood Facebook page.  Neighbors like to air their grievances online.  They fuss about stray cats wandering into their yards.  They're not happy about dogs pooing on their lawns or barking too much.  

Then, there's the complaint that happens every Fourth of July.  The fireworks.  

When neighbors or even adjacent neighborhoods set off fireworks, some people get riled up.  In this case, it's a no-win situation.  It's a national holiday and this is how some people like to celebrate.  I would like to tell the complainers to get over it.

It's a noisy holiday.  Everyone knows there will be fireworks and it's going to be loud for a couple of hours.  Maybe even a few days afterward.  So, I would say to those who get upset to find a way to handle it.  Try to ignore the noise by watching a funny television show or movie.  Wear earplugs to bed.  Or, invest in noise-cancelling headphones.  But don't complain about it.   

Overall, most people use our Facebook page to make announcements about a lost pet, neighborhood social activities, job services, and city news.  But there are a handful of people that need to complain publicly.  It's kind of jarring to read these comments online and it sucks the positivity right out of the air.  

You might be wondering why I don't address the grumbling.  

Oh, my dog ain't in that fight.  Don't get me wrong, I'd love to make suggestions, especially when it comes to animals.  I would say:  Pick up the poo and leave a sign in your yard to ask neighbors to clean up after their pets.  Find out whose dog is barking and have a calm discussion to come up with a solution.  Adapt a kinder attitude towards stray cats—they face the extremes of weather and the hazards and dangers of the neighborhood (speeding cars, coyotes, foxes, and raccoons).  Strays mainly seek food and shelter.

But my ideas would only start an argument.  Besides, complainers don't want a solution.  They just want to let off steam.  When they vent, they think it validates their complaint.  Complaining is fairly common and probably happens at least once a week.  So, I visit our Facebook page less often and I do my best to ignore the bitching.   

Whiners want their voices to be heard.  They're free to do so and our Facebook page is a convenient place to vent.  No one's going to stop them.  But what they fail to realize is their complaining solves nothing.  There are far more important issues to worry about.  And fireworks, loud dogs, dog poo and stray cats are only itty-bitty things. 

 À la prochaine!

                                                                                                                                                                          Photo: Simran Sood

LIGHTNING-FAST REJECTIONS

I am crushed whenever I receive a rapid rejection.  I'm talking about querying a manuscript and getting a rejection in a few hours after submitting it.  

This kind of a response feels personal even though I know it isn't.  It makes my goal of finding representation that more urgent.   

A speedy rejection gets me wondering:  How did the agent know so quickly that my submission was not for her?  Could she tell by looking at the title or word count?  Did she dislike the voice of the story?  The theme?  The message?  What made her decide so fast?  

Is it a magic yes-no radar some agents possess?  It must be because I've received a one-day reply from an agent who LIKED one of my manuscripts and wanted to read more of my work.  

The positive takeaway of a quick rejection lets me know right away this agent didn't connect with my work and I can go down my list and submit it to other agents.  Even still, it frustrates me.  I spend hours revising my manuscripts and the query letters and filling out the Query Manager forms.  So, receiving a rejection so quickly makes me feel like my writing and querying is a waste of time. 

However, I am grateful for the response.  In most cases, writers may have to wait up to 6 weeks or longer to hear back from an agent.  Sometimes, and quite often, an author will never hear back.  These days, no response means no thank you. In fact, many agents state on their guidelines that after X number of weeks the manuscript is no longer under consideration. 

So after the sting of a lightning-fast rejection wears off, I bounce back ready to submit again.  I'll peruse another agent's wish list to see if my manuscript might be something she's liked to see in her inbox.    

Easier said than done. 

Agents have to fall head over heels in love with the story and be able to sell it a publisher.  They have very specific openings on their lists for perfect fits.  Writers can get a sense of an agent's goals by studying wish lists and guidelines, but these merely hint at what the agent needs.  Writers don't know exactly what an agent's list looks like and how an agent wants to fill her list.    

The best thing a writer can do is try to make a very good match.  Take for instance the time I decided to send a manuscript that seemed to meet the needs of the agent.  My submission also included back matter for teachers (a good marketing approach) and sent it to an agent who had been an educator.

And the reply in less than two hours:  "Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately, my picture book list is quite full so I have to be extra picky and this one just isn't a fit. Please know that this has nothing to do with your concept or the quality of your writing - I love what you've done here and wish I could represent every good book to come across my desk.  Don't let this discourage you. Another agent may feel differently and you deserve to have an agent as passionate about your work as you are."

Super nice rejection.  Personalized.  But, thought I had made a very good match.  Evidently not good enough.  

Negativity started to get me down.  At this low point I searched the internet to find how to deal with rejection and found I found Powerful Positive Thinking, a website where anyone can send a wish into the universe.  As silly as it may seem to some, I like having the opportunity to visualize success.  It feels empowering.  Nearly every day I make a wish.  But that's not all.  The creators of Powerful Positive Thinking insist we take action.  So, after making a wish, I work on my queries and my agent list.  I polish my manuscripts.  And I try not to compare myself to others.    

I believe in the quality of my writing.  So does my husband and my critique partners.  But when life delivers a knock, I begin to doubt my abilities.  Then I remember a rejection (no matter how fast it's received) is the universe's way of saying keep going.  Keep learning.  Keep envisioning success.  Sure, it would be easier to give up writing to avoid the pain of rejection.  But then, I'd never know.  The next submission could be the perfect fit.     

 À la prochaine!  

"Giving up is the only sure way to fail." Gena Showalter, author