Fifteen Minutes of (Social Media) Fame

There has been plenty about 2016 not to like. The snowstorm and Arctic cold we experienced last week has been brutal as far as weather goes.

I can't help but be a little giddy, however, about some of my social media "success" this year. No, I don't have a YouTube channel. I don't have thousands of followers hanging on my every word. But when one of my posts gets more than a handful of "likes," it makes me happy. Realistically, I write just for myself. I use Twitter while watching TV and share the viewing experience with people who enjoy the same sort of show. I'll post a little something on Tumblr because it makes me chuckle. I blog here because there's something I want to say. I was already enjoying some of what social media has to offer when I wrote "I Like Social Media Because..." back in 2013. In a way, I guess it's that I like to hear myself talk. This way, nobody has to listen. That's why it's such a kick to learn that other people are listening.

I don't watch a lot of TV compared to some, but the shows I choose, I follow enthusiastically. PBS introduced me to "Doctor Who" when I was a child, but I've only been a regular viewer for about 10 years. So much to enjoy, and so many fans around the world. That's why I was honored when BBC America chose one of my tweets to display onscreen during a special episode featuring fan content early this year. There were dozens of tweets used, in addition to fan artwork and the like. I wish they had re-aired that enhanced episode or made it available online so I could have gotten a picture of my Twitter name onscreen for thousands of people to see.

"Am I a good man?" Gee, where have I heard that before. #DoctorWho

8:43 PM - 26 Sep 2015

0 replies0 retweets0 likes

In July, I was watching a little recap show about Comic-Con. Naturally, I was tweeting while I was watching. I'm glad I was paying attention to the television or I would have missed my name scrolling across the bottom of the screen with other fans' tweets.

I appreciate #LiveAtSDCC on @Syfy for giving those of us who will never make the trip to #SDCC just a taste of nerd heaven.

7:23 PM - 21 Jul 2016

I enjoyed a little show this summer loosely based on the real-life friendship between "Houdini & Doyle." A little mystery, a little history, a little fun for an hour a week. Their team was active on social media, trying to build up a fan base. Alas, the show was cancelled, but not before one of the writers chose my tweet in a contest for an autographed script. Cool, huh?

I don't just live-tweet current shows, though. It also brings a new dimension to old favorites, those classic movies and shows that you don't mind watching again and again. Guess what? There are other folks out there who like to watch the same thing! It struck me one night when I was watching the 1933 "King Kong." Movie-making was still a relatively new art form at that time. Here we are using technology that may not have even been imagined when people were taking their weekly trip to the theater. How times have changed.

In 2014, I asked myself, "Do I NEED Another Social Media Account?" I decided that it wouldn't be such a bad idea and started using Tumblr. I'm still more active on Facebook and Twitter, but sometimes Tumblr is just the right venue for something I want to say. Recently, that was validated for me.

BBC America has been airing "The Power of the Daleks," animating some old "Doctor Who" episodes from 1966 for which only the audio recordings remained. It's another fine example of using modern techniques to make something old almost new again.  Surprise! I've been tweeting while I watch! The network is pretty good about having a presence during the most popular shows, liking, replying, and retweeting as the mood strikes. One of my tweets caught their eye, so they retweeted it.

Give a Dalek a plunger, & it will serve you for a day. Give it a whisk, & it will try to rule the universe for a lifetime. #PowerOfTheDaleks

10:40 PM - 10 Dec 2016

Because of that action, my tweet has received almost 200 likes and more than 40 retweets. Not bad, eh? *pats self on back* Since it got a decent reception on Twitter, I figured I'd share the same idea on Tumblr, with just a few more than 140 letters.

Give a Dalek a plunger, and it will serve you for a day. Give a Dalek a whisk, and it will try to rule the universe for a lifetime.

#POWEROFTHEDALEKS #DALEK #DOCTOR WHO

DECEMBER 11, 2016 (6:50 PM)

Again, the BBC America account reblogged my post. Now, after almost two weeks, I've had more than 1,100 interactions. Four digits! That's a new record for me! That sort of response doesn't always occur when I post, and it may not again. But I had just the right words at just the right time. I am pleased with myself.

So, I'll bask in my version of momentary glory. It's fun for me, and that's the reason I use social media.  You never know when I might have something interesting to say, so feel free to check me out as ProofingSandy on Twitter and on Tumblr. And of course, stop by here any time.

Well, I S'pose

I attended an event last week where I expected to only know a handful of people. I typically do better in what could be an uncomfortable setting when I have a buddy with me, someone who's got my back and can help me just relax and mingle as myself. Unfortunately, this week's event was the memorial service for the very woman who has helped me feel at ease in the past.

One of my dearest friends for the last 17 years passed away earlier this month. We knew that it would happen within a few weeks, so it wasn't exactly sudden or unexpected. But it was certainly more sudden than any of us would have liked. I suppose the death of a loved one usually takes place before you want it to. This one just feels like it hit us way before we were ready.

Sure, I've attended funerals before. I've lost family members like everyone else. A cousin's daughter died at the age of 2 many years ago; my dad's been gone six years; other relatives have all been of an age where you knew the time was near. And I've gone to services for the family of friends. I think you want to support those you care about by honoring the ones they've lost. 

But this one feels different. It hits so much closer to my heart.

I've been friends with her for a third of my life. I'd say "best" friends, but who can honestly pick just one friend to be at the top of your list? She had lots (and lots) of friends, but we were a group of three that had so much in common and grew to understand each other on so many levels. I truly imagined us to one day be three gray-haired wrinkly ladies getting together for Sunday brunch at least once a month ad infinitum. 

I can't even begin to adequately describe what sort of woman she was. So, in no particular order, I'm just going to randomly give you a glimpse of the friendship we had.

The three of us did so much together. We shared beverages, from margaritas to Bloody Marys and wine to coffee. We traveled together, though they were just little weekend jaunts (see my posts "Weekend, Schmeekend" and "Staunch Women"). We raised our kids together, whether that meant getting advice, or babysitting, or living vicariously through the one daughter in the bunch. We ate "frogs" and wove tapestries of memories, and it didn't matter if nobody else understood quite what that meant. We rang in lots of new years in each other's company, honoring the old and welcoming the new. We celebrated our achievements and circled the wagons around each other when we needed support (see "Rescue Me"). We joked about spelling, grammar, and punctuation, agreeing to disagree on the Oxford comma. We were entertained by David Cassidy and by Craig Ferguson (two separate events, a decade apart). We had so much in common, while still remaining unique (see "Three Peas in a Pod"). When you found us together, whether in a kitchen, on a deck, in a restaurant, or at a borrowed condo, you might find laughter (see "An Inside Joke") or you might find tears. You would always find conversation. You would always find sharing. And you would always find love. 

I noted above that she had lots of friends. During the final weeks, I don't know that their house was ever empty. There were people stopping by for stories and giggles and tears and good-byes. They came from down the street and from across the country. I'm glad I was also able to spend more time with them when the time was drawing near. Honestly, that's not much different than an average day in her life. Their home has always been warm and welcoming. I was in awe of, but not surprised by, the amount of support that surrounded them when it was most needed. While I expect many of us have some friends for this activity, and another group of friends for that other activity, these people encouraged the intermingling of those groups. I've met some fabulous people through her and her husband over the years, some of whom I now call friends. It was clear at her memorial service how many people shared a common love for this one uncommon woman.

She's been gone for a few weeks now, and it still doesn't feel right that I can't just text or call or drop in when something makes me think of her. I jotted down a few thoughts when we knew that her time was coming (see "Because You Were Here" and "A Tapestry of Memories"). But I'd been putting off this post because I felt I could never adequately honor what she has meant to me. 

In a way, that's how many of our get-togethers ended. One of us would realize, "Well, I s'pose I should get going now." Then, the conversation would continue for an additional 15...30...60 minutes before we would actually leave. All good things must come to an end, and that end always seems to come too soon. 

This Thanksgiving, I can be sad and angry that she is gone. But I will remind myself that she brought much joy to my life and the lives of so many others. Not everyone is fortunate enough to have a friend so dear. I am thankful that I got to share so much living with her.

I don't want to say good bye. But now, my dear, I s'pose it is time.

What Can I Say?

I had more words running through my head today, but I hadn't typed anything up yet.

And now...the time to say good-bye to one of my dearest friends is approaching much faster than anyone would have wanted. In the weeks to come I will likely attempt to honor her in some small way here. But for the time being, all I can do is remind myself of some of the special times we have shared. 

Weekend, Schmeekend - October 2012
Rescue Me - October 2013
Staunch Women - November 2013
Because You Were Here - October 2016
A Tapestry of Memories - October 2016

There is not much more that I can say.

A Tapestry of Memories

The treadle has fallen silent,
the weaving done too soon.
But what of the remaining thread
Surely left upon the loom?

A basket full of memories
just waiting to be spun.
But step back now and turn your eyes
to the work that you have done.

See your love and warmth and beauty
you shared with one and all.
It adorns a thousand tapestries
upon a thousand walls.

Because You Were Here

There's a knot in my stomach that won't go away.
There's an ache in my head that won't go away.
There are tears in my eyes that won't go away.
All because you are going away.

I whined and I wined because you were here.
I laughed and I learned because you were here.
I endured and enjoyed because you were here.
All because I was blessed to share time with you here.

I wish rest for your body as you go away.
I wish ease for your mind as you go away.
I wish peace for your spirit as you go away.
Your place in my heart, dearest friend, will never go away.

New Friends

I've been taking a trip down memory lane. I keep things...souvenirs, mementos, keepsakes. Call them what you will, but I've always enjoyed hard-copy memories. I'm the kid that always took home a sugar packet if the restaurant name was printed on it. (No, I threw that collection out long ago.)

The boxes of remembrances were getting out of hand, so I'm trying to thin the herd. I don't need to keep everything, but what I keep needs to be organized better. I can scan things to keep them for posterity, then fill up another bag for the recycling bin. I've emailed copies of pictures or notes to share the love with those that shared the moment. And these band-concert programs from high school and photos of college roommates are having exactly the effect I would hope. They take me to a specific point in time, reminding me what and who was important to me at those stages of life. Bittersweet? Sometimes, but in most cases a smile comes to my face as all the associated memories come back to me. 

As I'm recalling times with old friends, some with whom I'm still in touch and some with whom I've lost contact, I've come across what may be my first attempt at formal writing: the story "New Friends." I must have been very proud, as my mom wrote the date on the original version so we'd always know I wrote it the summer after 1st grade. After so much time, I'm not about to throw it out now! I'd hand-written a rough draft on loose-leaf paper. Apparently I had issues with margins, because the text runs almost diagonally down the page, as if each line started a space or two farther right than the line before. Then, I assume to make it look more grown-up, I typed it up. Yes, on an actual manual typewriter. I must have hunted and pecked. Too many typos and erasures! More copy revisions! Finally, the "official" copy you see below. (Yes, I added a watermark to the image. No, nobody is going to try to steal my story. I just wanted to see how to add that if I wanted to. Looks important, doesn't it?)

I see my skills have progressed since then, though I haven't tried my hand at fiction in a long time. It doesn't look like I'd mastered apostrophe use yet, and it pains me to not see serial commas. But, hey, at least I decided to try something, actually did it, and shared it with people. I don't remember if it was a painful process or if it was a breeze. Since I don't have notebooks filled with short stories, I'm assuming it just didn't "click" with me. It has reminded me, though, that if I have something to say, there's no reason I can't write it down. It doesn't have to be complicated. In the story, Tim quickly made up his mind and acted accordingly. When I decide to write a post, I think a little and simply do it.

Do what feels right to you and you might just find a new hobby, discover a new passion, or even make a new friend.

Yes, I'm GOing!

Unless you've been away from social media, TV, newspapers, radio, and magazines (in which case you're probably not reading this anyway), you've probably heard about the game "Pokemon Go." 

I'm certainly no expert on these little guys. My son tried to teach me the card game when he was younger, and we watched the cartoon together sometimes. Of course, I know Pikachu (who doesn't?), and I recognize a few others. I was interested in Pokemon because he was interested in it. 

He and his friends were eagerly anticipating this game which would allow you to "catch" Pokemon out in the "real" world. You download and install the app to your phone, then simply walk around until one appears. Use the app to "throw" a Pokeball and catch 'em all! There are Pokestops where you can get free supplies. Avid players will walk to a nearby virtual gym where they can battle their Pokemon against others.

I'm not familiar enough with individual Pokemon and their particular strengths and weaknesses to probably ever take mine into battle. But I have to admit I DID download the app, and it's kind of fun. One benefit of the game is that many players are getting out and about in the great outdoors while playing. You have to actually walk around to get the most out of the game. Sure, there are some people who are going where they don't belong at times they don't belong there. But I imagine that will improve once the game isn't so "new." From my view, there's also some brain work going on as the players determine which Pokemon to evolve, trade, or fight.

The developers of the game probably didn't have my demographic in mind. I'm older than the typical Pokemon fan, and I'm not a big gamer. I've been on a few walks with my adult son to see what we could discover. (Family time is another unexpected benefit.) But the most fun I've had so far has been with my older sister. We were both visiting our mother in our hometown. As long as we were running errands with her, we figured we might as well park by a few Pokestops and see if there was anything to catch there. Then, our very patient mother agreed to wait in the car as we took a quick walk through downtown. We were almost giggling as we were collecting rewards and catching Pokemon just like all the other "kids" outside that day. My sister spent time with me when I was little, and she even created different scenarios for me to enjoy from our playroom to our back yard. I guess now that has come full circle. We can still play together.

Say what you will about video games in general or "Pokemon Go" in particular. But don't knock it 'til you've tried it. I'm going to continue to keep my eyes open...

                                  ...in elevators...              ...at breakfast...           ...in my wine...

...and walking around town with my big sister.  

Summertime!

I love being able to hop into the car or run outside and have no need to put on a jacket! I'm not much of an outdoorsy type, so you won't catch me celebrating that it's finally the season for...anything. But no jacket? No socks? Perhaps even no shoes? I am happy with those simple pleasures.

Since I DON'T partake of the camping, fishing, biking, sporting, boating, swimming, or any of those other summery activities, I have no real excuse for letting six weeks pass since my last post.

I hang my head in shame.

OK, so not shame. But I do feel a twinge, not a full-blown pang, of guilt for not keeping up with my writing.

I have been to a bridal shower, a wedding, and a family reunion, so it's not as if I've been completely idle. I've also purged my closet a bit. I put in one winter coat and took out one full bag of items to toss or donate and it seems as if I have less room than before. And I am still writing, albeit in bursts of 140 or fewer characters on Twitter. 

Speaking of Twitter, I may have to write more about that in my next post. I've discussed social media before, in April 2014 and back in July 2013. I believe I have some additional thoughts to share on the topic, and it looks like I'm due again anyway.

In the meantime, feel free to browse what's been on my mind so far in 2016. And remember, I welcome your feedback! (Blech! I've got to find a snappier way to say that.)

What's In a Name?

So, I notice it's been awhile since I had anything in particular to say here. I suppose it's just been life as usual, nothing in particular that stands out. Rather than just sit idly by, I've checked my list of potential topics. Let's talk about nicknames, shall we?

I haven't always been a fan. I remember being a proud first-grader, showing off my new glasses. Pretty cool, huh? It wasn't long before they were calling me Cat-Eyes. And it wasn't a term of endearment. Needless to say, I wasn't ever one of the cool kids in elementary school. I was just one of the dorky kids with dorky glasses and dorky hair and all things dorky. 

Move ahead a few years to fifth grade. We were the big kids. Our last year before junior high (or middle school...I think it was called both during our time there). The Equal Rights Amendment was in the news. We had a young teacher who seemed to understand the minds of kids in the '70s. I don't remember what exactly possessed us, but four or five of us decided we wanted to use a boy's name in that class rather than our perfectly good girl names. I chose "Charlie." Was it the catchy tune in the commercials for the perfume by that name? I can't imagine I was swayed by that. All I know is that Mr. B was a good sport and respected our self-naming for as long as it was important to us. He even called me Charlie when he signed my class autograph book. (Remember when those were a thing?) I was beginning to take just a little control over who I wanted to be and how I wanted to be seen by others. I made a choice for myself!

If I had any other names in high school, I don't remember them...or they were never used to my face. I still wasn't one of the cool kids, but I was just happy that people knew my actual name and said "hi" in the hallway or in the cafeteria.

Now, my college nickname sounds silly, and the back-story makes even less sense. But for nearly two years, quite a few of my friends could be heard calling me "Spud." Yes, Spud, like the potato (not like the Bud Light dog). I enjoyed a close enough relationship with these people that they could use a goofy little name for me, and it felt good. We all felt comfortable with each other, and I knew that they called me Spud with love (or at least with like). It made me feel special. They liked me, they really liked me! I never said, "Hey, my name is Sandy, but you can call me Spud." But I welcomed the moniker. I recently reconnected through Facebook with some more of my friends from that era. One of them used that name in a message and it took me right back to that time in my life. In many ways, I'm not the same person I was back then, but I sure have fond memories of being Spud.

As you know (if you've read many of my posts and know even a little about me), I was a proofreader at an ad agency for a number of years. That was new territory for me, and it took some time for me to feel like I fit in. I truly felt like one of the gang when I was unofficially christened Slasher. I believe some editors traditionally use blue pencils for their notes. I used red pens. (See, the title of my blog does make sense!) And I was quite enthusiastic with those pens. On one particular day, I returned the printed layout to the designer. Apparently, the paper resembled a blood-splattered crime scene and I became known to some as The Slasher. Sometimes I felt bad for catching things and, in effect, making more work in another set of revisions. But that's what I was paid to do, and that's sort of what I'm naturally compelled to do. I wasn't called that out of spite or (much) ill will. I think he was just shocked to see so much red in one place. I shall refer to it as my sobriquet, simply because I like the sound of the word. It certainly vividly describes what I did at work on any given day! Those particular days are gone, but in some ways I'm still a slasher at heart.

If there are other oft-used names for me, I can't say as I know of them, and I probably wouldn't want to know. And I'm OK with that. It's hard to force a nickname. I think it's more meaningful when it just develops organically out of an everyday situation. For now I am happy to simply be known as one of a select group of staunch women. Ask me again in five years or so to see if I'm known by any other name. I'll still be as sweet...I promise.

So...you can call me Sandy, or you can call me Spud, or you can call me Slasher, but ya doesn't hasta call me Cat-Eyes!

Was That the Best Time to Send That Email?

Here in Wisconsin, we are enjoying a late-winter/early-spring snowstorm. The weather experts are referring to it as a blizzard. We'll see if it truly lives up to the hype.

The storm has been on the radar, both figuratively and literally, for days. I think over the weekend they were already gently warning us to be prepared for heavy snow on Wednesday. These forecasts must always be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism, of course. Meteorology isn't really an exact science. One never knows for certain when a system will change direction, gain strength, or weaken. But no one around here can say they didn't know that there was a possibility of significant snowfall.

So I was a bit surprised when I received an email newsletter today from a manufacturer of outdoor power equipment. The subject: It's time for the changing of the guard. They advised, "Now that the snow has melted, it's time to get your snow blower tucked away and prep your lawn mower for another busy summer." That was followed by a list of helpful maintenance tips. Those hints might be appreciated by subscribers wanting to keep their equipment in good shape for years to come.

But hold on. Even though the season's snow had melted, aren't we due for another big batch soon, as in today? Perhaps it's not quite time to store the winter tools. 

I understand that customer communications are planned and created in advance. I also understand that the process can be automated to send out mailings at a designated time. I have to wonder, though, if anyone in that marketing department thought, just for a moment over the past week, that perhaps the mailing should be delayed or include an alternate topic. Maybe they did. Nobody asked my opinion. Their name is still top-of-mind for me, even though I don't have the most favorable impression right at this exact moment.

'Tis true what they say about the best laid plans, especially when it comes to weather in Wisconsin. But I hope that these folks, and you if you're in the field, remember to double check your details from start to finish, and at a few points in between.

Today Is More Than Pi Day

Twenty-one years ago, on March 14, 1995, I don't think I'd heard of Pi Day. I had other things on my mind. I had been expecting a delivery on March 4 (which happens to be Grammar Day), but it was late, and I was becoming impatient...and uncomfortable.

I hadn't slept well the night before. I convinced myself they were simply more Braxton Hicks contractions. (Yes, it was that type of delivery that I was expecting.) Perhaps we didn't have cable TV, because the only thing I remember finding to watch was a Susan Powter infomercial. I muddled through the rest of the night so I could go to work on Tuesday. Had to clean up my desk and tie up any loose ends to prepare for maternity leave. Wednesday would be a day to just relax and complete any "nesting" at home before having labor induced on Thursday. Wasn't particularly looking forward to that, but it was time. I went about my business, finishing up what I could, still denying the signs of labor. I'm not sure why I wasn't ready to admit it since in my heart, I knew that it was starting.

After a full day, I headed home around 5:30. Supper was almost ready, so I just sat down for a minute to relax. What? What's that sensation? Oh, that's what it's like when your water breaks. Not nearly as dramatic as it is on television. Changed into dry, comfy clothes and called the doctor. It wasn't what I expected, but they told me that labor could still continue for days after that. Gee, that wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear. But the contractions were close enough that we were instructed to go to the hospital. 

Of course I had a bag packed, so there was no crazy rush gathering things around the house. A mere five-minute drive later, we were there, checking in, changing into a gown, and getting comfortable (as much as one can get comfortable in that condition). As "luck" would have it (*sarcasm*), my OB/GYN was not available. And of the three remaining doctors in the practice, which we'd met during earlier appointments, it was my least favorite on call that evening. Not much I could do about that anyway, and in hindsight, it didn't really matter to me in the big picture. 

I declined the epidural, vowing to "be strong." I also declined the offer of a mirror so I could see the process. No, thank you. I pretty much know what's going on down there. Perhaps my body reacted to not being crazy about the doctor, because it seemed like whenever he came into the room to check on things, the contractions stopped. As long as he was there to make the official "catch," that was really all I needed him for. By time I thought that perhaps some pain medication wouldn't be such a bad idea, I was told it was too late. Oh, well. Let's do this, then!

And then, before we even had a chance to play any of our packed soothing music or break into our supply of snacks, HE made an appearance. After less than four hours of actual effort, at 9:57, we were parents of a beautiful son. And yes, he was worth the 10 days of waiting past the estimated due date.

Every day is worth celebrating. But some days are especially memorable. For me, 3.14 will always be more valuable than any mathematical formula, and not just because we enjoy pie AND cake.

I remember those moments of realization that, "Hey, I'm a MOM!" My "baby" is now 21, and I am as thrilled to be his mother today as I was when I first held him.

Happy Birthday, Daddy

Happy birthday to you...

No, I won't sing all the verses to you, Daddy. Just wanted to call to wish you a happy birthday!

Did you have nice weather on your special day? It was pretty sunny here. Geez, over the last few weeks we've had lots of snow melt, leaving behind soggy grass and sloppy mud next to the piles left over from shoveling. Then, another inch or so falls to cover it all up again. More melt, more snow. Ah, the joys of late winter. (Don't want to jinx it by calling it "spring" quite yet.)

I hope you were out and about somewhere fun today. Isn't there a restaurant there that gives you a percentage discount to match your age? Hey, with that much off the price, the food wouldn't even have to be that good to make it worth the trip! 

There had better be cake and ice cream. I don't remember: Do you have a favorite birthday cake like we "kids" did? I'm a fan of just about any cake, actually. Let's just use a few candles to blow out, OK? I think we all reach a point when our cake doesn't need one candle for each and every year. I hope Mother found some St. Patrick's Day paper plates and napkins to use. Yeah, I know that it's two weeks until that holiday, but it's the closest one to your birthday. We have traditions to uphold! I saw lots of Easter stuff out, of course, when I was at the store today. Summer gear can't be far behind. 

Well, I won't keep you. You've probably got company coming over or have someplace else to go to celebrate. And since you're not a big "phone" person, I won't make you talk long on a day that revolves around YOU. Just wanted to let you know I was thinking about you, and I ... you know.

Yah, yah. OK.

Happy birthday, Daddy.

03/03/1932 - 12/12/2010

Do They Really Go in Threes?

It's not quite the end of the first month of the new year, and we've already had so much sad celebrity news.

Years ago, coworkers and I participated in a little "game," which sounds more macabre than it was intended when I try to explain it. I'd been told that celebrities seem to die in groups of three. We'd keep an eye on the news and listen to the radio. (This was back in the days before social media, or at least when it was still in its infancy.) Then, it was sort of a "race" to see which of us could break the news to the others first. I remember calling a work friend. When the phone was answered, I simply said, "Jerry...Garcia." (The dramatic pause was part of the game.) When I got no real response, I realized that it wasn't the friend but his mildly confused brother. I asked him to relay the message as is without further explanation. I consider myself the winner of that round.

But it's already gotten out of hand early in 2016. Less than two weeks in, I'd noted we'd recently lost Meadowlark Lemon, Lemmy Kilmister, Wayne Rogers, Natalie Cole, Pat Harrington Jr., and David Bowie. (Just looking at that list reminds me how some of those names likely mean little to folks under 30.) Just a few days later, Alan Rickman passed away. I was almost afraid to check a news feed in the morning lest I see another famous name. Then, Dan Haggerty and Glenn Frey, followed by the oft-falsely-reported Abe Vigoda. (I'm sure there are more. These are just those I am most familiar with, names and faces I either grew up with or entertainment legends.) Each became a "trending topic," spread across both social and traditional media. It's a shame that some receive more fame when they die than they did the day before. And don't get me started on what sort of ridiculous excess and foolish behavior brings fame to some these days.

This did make me reflect just a bit on my own life, however. I know that when my time comes some day, there won't be any retrospective montages on TV or shared Facebook posts. I can only hope that a few tears are shed, some funny stories are told, and I'm remembered fondly. My life and actions will never have the impact of the people noted above. I'll never be a star or a legend. My name will never be a household word. And that's OK with me. I'd much rather focus on quality, not quantity. I'll try to make sure those I love know it. I want them to be glad I'm in their lives now, and not just talk about me when I'm gone.

And you can remember me as the gal who sometimes wrote late at night without rough drafts or revisions because an idea popped into her head and she just wanted to get it out there before that thought drifted away.