Jul 21

If It Wasn’t for Bad Luck – Part 2

printerI know you’re wondering why I still believe, when it comes to electronics, “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.” I think you’ll understand after you read this.

I like HP products because they’re supposed to be simple, easy to set up and easy to use. To me that says, “This is something I can do on my own.”

When I was at Costco last week, they were having a sale on HP printers. I thought, “This is my lucky day: $60 off a $169 printer. This is for me.” It was an especially good deal because it was actually an “All-In-One”. Besides printing, it could fax, copy and scan. I was going to have state-of-the-art everything!

When I got home, I opened the box and looked at the first few pages in the Quick Start Manual. It was an “Ah Ha” moment. I realized I was in way over my head. But, not to worry, fortunately my husband loves challenges like this.

Michael didn’t even look at the Quick Start Manual. He told me he didn’t need to. Everything was quite simple and he’d have it, “All set up in about half an hour.” Well, half an hour came and went and then an hour and… You get the idea. It was all plugged in and sitting on the counter. It just wasn’t printing!

The next day he phoned Costco. He talked to several people. They were all very nice. He was on the phone with the last man there for over an hour, maybe two. Who’s counting in a situation like this? Nothing would print. Finally the man gave Michael a Case Number and connected him on a special Costco line to HP so we wouldn’t have to pay extra for the advice we were going to get.

There were a number of phone calls. Michael tried this and that. HP sent him to a different person several time. Bottom line, at the end of the next day the printer had yet to print.

Finally, and in defeat, the HP consultant said, “It’s a hardware problem. Take the printer back to Costco and get another one. It’s not working.”

So he returned the printer to Costco, and this time, before he left the store, he insisted on opening the box and trying it out there.

It worked. He brought it home. Plugged it in. Made a few adjustments and it’s just like the saying goes, “Plug and play.”

So, after going through all this, I still believe, when it comes to electronics, “If it wasn’t for bad luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.”

Jul 18

Pinterest for promotion: Tips and inspiration

Penn State PinterestSocial media: is it selling or sharing?

These days, it’s a bit of both.  As a writer, or anyone with a product to promote, social media presents powerful platforms. You can spend more time socializing than writing, so where do you focus your attention?

Pinterest is a social media cut-n-paste website to collect and save online items meaningful to you. Neater than a folder of newspaper clippings from back in the dinosaur days, when you find an image or idea that you want to remember, you “Pin” that image to a “Board” that you create.  Presto! Your collection begins.

The anatomy of a Pin is an image, the description and the website link.  The image is the specific, intriguing picture from the website. If the site isn’t set up to instantly open Pinterest when you hover over the image, you can manually add the image to your Board with the Pin It button you download from Pinterest and save to your computer’s internet taskbar.  The description is whatever you type in as a reminder to you–a cool title, the inspiration for saving it, your impressions–all in 500 words or less.

The website’s link automatically attaches as an electronic sticky note to the “Pinned from” line, and this takes you back to the original post.  If you Pin directly from your smartphone, the Pinned from line simply states, “uploaded by user,” thus creating a static image gallery.

Boards group specific topics or themes together, such as: recipes; parenting; DIY crafts; men’s fashions; travel destinations; and home décor. Quotes and infographics are popular, too.  If you want to connect with users—or Pinners—who share your interest, search the site by category, keyword or user names.  Here’s where the social aspect steps in.

When you discover an image someone else saved, you can Pin that Pinner’s pin to a Board you created, and vice versa.  To see a Pinner’s latest discoveries, you “Follow” that person, and then you choose to follow all or just some of their Boards.  The most popular Pins, popular by Likes or Pins, come up highest on any search.  It’s important to be social to be discovered.

Remember that, “Pinned from”, direct link I mentioned above?  This is where the promotion aspect steps in.  You want to send people to where the action is, so create Boards that link directly to your blogsite, etsy shop or Amazon page.  Create exciting titles and use the description box wisely.  Like other social media, use #hashtags to group your pins and to be instantly site-searchable.  Type in an additional website link in the description box, and it is an active link, giving you additional promotion tool option.

Who do I like?  Who uses Pinterest well?  Who inspires me?

Drive traffic back to your own website like blogger Laurel Regan (Alphabet Salad) by grouping her blog posts, most recently for her April 2015 A to Z Blog Challenge posts.  I found her through that blog hop, and she inspired me to create my own A to Z blog posts Board.

Intrigue your current and future readers like writer Wendi Knape (Wendijowrites) does by teasing them with images that inspire her writing.  One of her stories, Jacob and Charlotte – Meet Cute, features the characters Jacob and Charlotte. Wendi created a Pinterest Board to describe her characters’ “development, clothes, hair, living space [and] favorite foods.”  This inspired me to give readers insights into my own writing process through my “Author Inspiration” board.

My use of Pinterest has been a mixture of art and writing.  “Scrapbooking and artsy-fartsy stuff” collects mini-album and ephemera ideas to pitch to my editor of Michigan Scrapbooker Magazine for future articles.

My Zentangle boards promote my classes as a Certified Zentangle Teacher (CZT) and artwork that inspires me.  Why not let others know what moves me, as well as inspires my works of art?

“Holiday Festivities” gathers spooky ideas and recipes I use to create great visual images for my blog’s annual Halloween post.  See how I used the ideas to create party atmosphere in my 2014 Halloween Party blogpost.

“THON-spiration” collects images related to the fight against childhood cancer and The Penn State Dance Marathon (THON); it is currently my most popular board.

As I was typing this post, I created “Books by D.W. Hirsch” Board.  In the first 24 hours, I had 24 followers.  How cool is that!

I can’t guarantee any success like that, but I can share tips I’ve discovered along this social journey.

Tips to get the most exposure to yourself and your Boards:

  • Creative titles.  Make your Boards sound so exciting that people can’t resist clicking on them.
  • Maximize the description box.  Don’t write wordy paragraphs; space out long sections of sentences.  Include hashtags, keywords, and related websites, but use tabs or double-spaces between these words.
  • Choose the most interesting, active image to Pin if you have multiple options from a website.
  • Credit the original artist every time you share personal content.  Let them know you’ve done that and they may follow you back.
  • For more ideas, search a general word.  Type the word “writing” and you get subcategories of novel; inspiration; prompts; quotes; and more

Some writing-related Board ideas include:

  • Writers you like and blogs you follow.  Be sure to describe why you include them.
  • Books you like or want to read.  This gives people a look into your personal likes, and they may discover a new book to read after seeing your interests.
  • Share and be social: promote other bloggers or writers by posting their content.
  • List blog or writing challenges for future exploration.
  • Promote personal blog posts.  Group these sites into related categories and boards.
  • Share other media images like screenshots of your Twitter posts.  Be mindful of others’ privacy.
  • Favorite quotes

Pinterest works best for people who actively wander around the Internet.  Creating a Board or Pinning an item can take as little as 3 minutes, but this may be an awkward medium for some.  It takes time to ensure the correct link, to write an appropriate description, and then roam around Pinterest looking for people to connect and share interests.

What site platform works best for you?  Are you still discovering?  Share your thoughts in the comments below.

Jul 16

Shark!

Every time I travel to a tropical destination, I wrestle with the way I’m drawn to the ocean while simultaneously being wary of it. A mysterious world lies hidden below its surface. Fish, coral, invertebrates, various species that live in the warm shallows and others found only in the deepest, darkest depths. Is exploring it worth risking a menacing confrontation with a barracuda, the sting of a jellyfish, or a bite by a shark? The payoff could be stealing a glimpse of an eel as it slithers along the crevices of a reef or, even better, spotting an elusive octopus that makes a rare morning appearance before quickly disappearing.

“Will I have to worry about anything dangerous or scary?” I can’t hold back from posing this question to nearly every snorkeling guide I hire, despite my knowing the answer.

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The Atlantic Ocean nestles the southwestern tip of tropical island, Eleuthera.   Photo: Kelly Bixby

In the twenty years I’ve been fascinated with the ocean, not one guide has cautioned me against getting in the water. Instead, they tell me of all the creatures they hope we’ll see. Because they know the habits and territories of the underwater residents, the guides sometimes graciously bring food and snacks for their hungry, finned friends—and we snorkelers get to take part in a neighborly little block party while we’re in town visiting. The guides say things like, “with any luck, we’ll find the seahorse” and “sometimes we see a nurse shark.” Whoa! I heard that! My ears perk up and my heart skips a beat in trepidation.

I’ve never faced any threat greater than having to dodge sea urchins, but I still can’t subdue the prevailing thought that makes me nervous to get in the salty sea: a potential encounter with a shark. You might think that the informational Discovery Channel series, Shark Week, would undo the damage to my psyche that the movie Jaws inflicted on me. But fear came before rationale, and now it’s very hard to get rid of.

During spring break in 2002, I was swimming in the Atlantic Ocean, off the eastern coast of Florida. I was warned that a small shark had chomped on someone’s ankle a week earlier. The bite occurred in the same shallow water where my husband, Greg, and our four children bounced along breaking waves and bodysurfed. Their giggles and carefree smiles indicated that, unlike me, they were not the least bit concerned. They had no idea there was potential danger. I wasn’t about to spoil their fun, but I recall feeling extremely relieved when we left Cape Coral Beach with all body parts intact.

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Exhuma Sound (Caribbean Sea) and Lighthouse Beach, Eleuthera, Bahamas, 2011. Photo: Kelly Bixby

Nine years later, off the desolate coast of Eluthera in the Bahamas, Greg and I met two people—a doctor and his wife—on Lighthouse Beach. They looked to be serious, experienced snorkelers. Wearing full wetsuits, this couple was prepared to go into deeper, colder water than I could tolerate. Greg and I watched from the shore as they dared to go on the outer side of the reef. We relaxed on the beach for awhile and were just preparing to head into the Caribbean when the couple returned. They had been frightened by the sighting of a bull shark and decided they had had enough fun for one day. They left the beach, and Greg and I were completely alone.

At that point, I was a little intimidated to enter the sea. There was no cell phone coverage for miles; nobody to cry out to for help. The nearest paved road was a forty-five minute drive away on a rutted, dirt road squeezed down to one lane by dense brush and trees encroaching it on each side. Having a beach all to ourselves was both extraordinary and problematic.

I was apprehensive, but we had planned to snorkel, so that’s what we did. We stayed on the inside of the reef to avoid the deeper, colder, and predator-infested sea. And I prayed that God would keep the bull shark away from us.

While Greg never tired of the underwater wonders, my body’s defense mechanism eventually kicked in. I started shivering from being in the cold sea too long and had to return to the warmth and safety of the shore. Unscathed, I compared fish stories with Greg. Thankfully, neither of us came nose-to-nose with the ten-foot long behemoth.

By far, the most frightening moment of my life occurred a year earlier, off Siesta Key Beach, in the Gulf of Mexico. Once again, my children were happily playing in the ocean. They were standing in waist-high water, a couple hundred feet from shore and far beyond my protection as I entered the gulf. I froze in place when I witnessed a sinister dorsal fin rise above the smooth blue surface and travel directly toward them.

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A bull shark anticipates an easy dinner as it waits for chum at the Cape Eleuthera Marina (formerly Powell Pointe Marina). Photo: Kelly Bixby

I was immediately terrified and panicked. My voice was the only weapon I had in the battle to save my children. There was no other way for me to intervene. Behaving like a lunatic, I frantically waved my arms and screamed, “Get out of the water!”

Part of me realized I could be making a deadly demand of them. Better advice would have been to have them stand as still as possible. No splashing. No fleeing. Be courageous and don’t become its prey. If all that fails, fight. Punch it in the nose or poke it in an eye. But I wasn’t thinking calmly. My children were in peril, and I was out of my mind with worry. Seconds seemed eternally long before the wind carried hope my way. From behind me on shore, a man spoke words, full of knowledge and reason, to inform me that the imposing creature was only a dolphin.

What faith I put in his observation. I wanted to believe him. I needed to believe him. Surely he was better than me at recognizing the difference between the gentle, arching movement as a dolphin rolls through water and the more rigid, racing, cutting precision a shark displays when it’s locked on a target. I could be wrong, but he must not be.

I saw my children vying to get to shore and meekly waved them off. I relayed the good news, “It’s only a dolphin!” but they continued on their way. Dread developed into laughter by the time they reached me. We caught our breath and watched other children who jumped into a kayak and quickly paddled towards the dolphin in order to get a closer look. They might have missed it, had I not made a spectacle of myself.

Shark tales like these are why I find comfort in hiring snorkeling guides when I’m exploring new places. Guides know how best to navigate narrow openings like those in between fire coral formations. They know the lay of the land. They’ve repeated the same route hundreds of times. I expect them to keep me safe, yet I also know my confidence in them is overrated. They’re not captains who will go down with their ships. They’re not mother bears ferociously protecting their precious cubs. They’re not any more prepared than a crazy mama like me in being able to fend off Megalodon.

Jul 15

Wedding Shoes

My fiancée and I attended many friends’ weddings while we were engaged. It was surprising how many groom’s shoe soles appeared worn and dirty when the bride and groom knelt at the altar. One shoe was so worn that it almost had a hole in it. Why would anyone choose to be married, a high point in life, in footwear so flawed? Hadn’t he thought others would see his soles when he knelt? How mortifying that everyone but his new wife would know she was forever consigned to someone who wore back-of-the-closet shoes on the most important occasion they would ever share.

Marriage is a life-changing event and I thought more care should be taken with such details, if a man has his act together. My wedding would not reflect a lack of thought, but show how much I cared for my new spouse and a commitment to doing things right. Months before the big day, I purchased a pair of expensive Florsheim Imperials with mahogany-grain leather soles, more than three times the cost of men’s fine footwear at the time, and carefully laid them away in their cotton shoe-bags. I would never be a perfect wedding-cake groom, but I would have the best damned shoes ever seen at a wedding when I knelt at the altar.

The night before, my brother and I were sitting in a hotel lounge when I remembered the new Florsheims and told him about my plans to wear them. He congratulated me on planning so far ahead, but then grew solemn. If I put them on in the morning after donning a tuxedo, how would I prevent the soles from becoming worn and scuffed by the time I knelt? How had I missed such an obvious point?

There were few alternatives. It wouldn’t look right to arrive in a tuxedo and loafers and then change footwear. Sneaking in bare-foot, or just wearing socks, was more ridiculous. We even discussed whether I could wear the cotton Florsheim shoe-bags over the shoes while entering the church. But, no, that wasn’t any good either. I simply needed to temporarily protect the shoe soles until the last moment.

It struck us both at the same time. All I had to do was tape cardboard over the shoe bottoms, enter church normally, and remove the cardboard in the church vestibule before the ceremony when I was alone. Then I would join my bride-to-be at the altar and, moments later, upon kneeling, reveal absolutely brand-new, un-touched shoe soles. I wasn’t sure whether this would reflect careful forward-thinking or weirdly obsessive compulsiveness but, if anyone noticed, they would be scratching their heads wondering how I pulled it off.

My brother went to his hotel room to find some cardboard, while I retrieved the shoes, brought them to the lounge, and borrowed scissors and tape from the front desk. Alas, my brother returned not with cardboard but a magazine. As fate would have it, his reading material that day was Playboy magazine. I didn’t like the idea of Playboy on my shoes, but we were out of time and no one would see anything anyway. It took only minutes to cut and tape the pages to the shoe soles before turning in for the night.

The following morning flew by in a rush. I carefully tied my new shoes and finished dressing. Nothing was amiss, so I soon found myself alone in a church backroom, focused on everything except shoe soles. I was dizzy with excitement and love, glancing at a clock on the wall just before the 10:00 a.m. ceremony, thinking, my God, I’m actually getting married. These were the last few moments of being single and a new life ahead. Moments later, the organ music and boys choir began and I walked out before hundreds of wedding guests rising to their feet.

Waiting behind the altar rail as the processional music continued, hundreds of people turned to gaze at the bridesmaids and groomsmen proceeding down the aisle to line up in front. My beautiful bride emerged in a radiance of light, the entire church fixed upon the vision walking down the aisle on her father’s arm. She and her father were halfway down the aisle, the congregation still following them, when I saw Dave staring at my feet. The Playboy pages were still taped to my shoe soles. Worse, I couldn’t remember whether any pages displayed scantily-clad Playboy Bunnys.

There’s a reason wedding guests focus on radiant brides and ignore thoroughly frightened grooms, especially forgetful idiots who are frantically peeling Playboy magazine pages and tape from their shoe soles. But we had done a good job of sticking the pages on. A lot of it was firmly stuck, almost impossible to remove. I was just peeling away the last, hidden behind the altar rail, when everyone turned to the front. Fortunately, no one in the church, including my bride, had noticed me behind the rail. Her smile was truly ecstatic.

Dave guessed what had happened and grinned a look that said, “It wasn’t me this time, brother. This was all your idea.”

The ceremony began and the choir was in full voice. As we knelt at the altar, perfect shoe soles were revealed for the first time. As the ceremony was concluding, I could see a puzzled sigh settle over our kindly priest. He was staring at a pile of mangled Playboy magazine pages and tape behind the altar rail, out of sight, wondering when such a mess had appeared.

Jul 10

Hot Blacktop – Ch. 1 – Coffee Break

WendiCoffeeBreakphoto

Sienna Appleton brought her coffee mug to her lips on a strangled sigh and took her first sip. It didn’t help ease her broken heart but it cleared the fog that had settled in her brain since Monday. Memories of her ex rutting on some skank…

“Bastard!” She whispered.

The air draped the landscape in a cottony blanket as it hovered the grassy fields behind her house. Scents of soil and pine mingled and rain descended in an orchestra of chaos. She wiggled her toes perched on the white porch rail, and hugged the coffee mug to her chest. It was a morning ritual that she’d let slide over the past few years. Now she watched the rain run in rivulets that glistened across her new pedicure. The bright poppy-red enamel a burst of color in the dreary scene. She’d treated herself the previous day because Sienna deserved it after discovering her boyfriend, earlier in the week.

“Knock, knock!” A voice hollered from the front of the house. Sienna’s head turned and she saw her best friend Megan walk toward her through her new kitchen. “Hey, baby cakes.”

“Hey, Megs.” She took another sip, her eyes going back to the rain that matched her mood.

Megan plopped down on the seat next to her.

“So,” her friend said. “I see you’ve discarded all of the asshole’s belongings onto your front lawn. I think the sopping wet look is the next big thing from Assholes-r-Us. I’m sure Layton will appreciate it.”

Sienna didn’t reply, the silence was comfortable, but she knew Megan arrived because she wanted to help Sienna get out of the breakup muck that mired positive thoughts.

“So,” her friend said. “I see you’ve discarded all of the asshole’s belongings onto your front lawn. I think the sopping wet look is the next big thing from Assholes-r-Us. I’m sure Layton will appreciate it.”

Sienna didn’t say anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her friend’s lips pinch at the non-response. Sienna had been like this all week, hiding from pitying looks following her in town. She didn’t need that.

“Listen baby-cakes, it’s time to get out of your pajamas and re-enter the real world.” Megan turned to Sienna, grabbed her coffee and set it down on the railing with a thwack. The coffee jumped over the sides to escape.

“Hey! I was drinking that!” Sienna dropped her painted toes and reached to pick up her dripping mug before the rain made it a watered down mess.

“Nah ah, missy,” Megan barked. “You touch that coffee I’ll kick your be-hind.”

“Come on Megs. I haven’t even had a full cup yet.”

“Nope.” Megan grabbed the cup to keep it out of Sienna’s reach. “You don’t get it back ‘till you agree to go out with me tonight.”

Sienna drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I don’t feel like going out.” She pouted, looking at her friend.

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t feel like going out. You need to get out, show off that great mani-pedi you got yesterday.”

Sienna couldn’t help it when the tears started to come. She thought she’d run out of tears. “He hurt me bad, Megs. How could he do that to me? And for what? To enjoy some anonymous sex when he could have had me. What’s so bad about me?” Sienna sniffed madly, no tissue around to sop up her pathetic tears. Layton didn’t deserve her tears. “Bastard. Bastard.”

“That’s right honey. Get it out.”

“Bastard!” She screamed her heartache into the storm. After a few deep breaths Sienna got her crying under control and wiped her puffy, tear streaked face on her pajama shirt. She turned to her best friend. Sienna flashed back to the time when Megan literally fell into her life.

Skinny arms and legs twisted in a tangle of limbs when Sienna slammed into someone coming out of Hampshire’s Stop and Shop just as she took a drink of her pop. She screamed and groaned as she hit the ground. She flapped her arms like a bird that tried to right herself, the Rock & Rye Faygo running in rivulets down her arms and legs and splattered all over her head. The sticky mess patched together a puzzle of bar-b-que and sour cream and onion potato chips too.

“Gross,” the female voice said.

Sienna flapped her arms some more trying to flick off the chips and pop when she finally looked up to see who spoke. The explosion of pop had hit both girls like a geyser, red dye No. 40 their new skin color. They stared at each other, hair matted, wet and sticky, shorts and shirts stained. They looked so preposterous they burst into hysterical laughter, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity.

After the giggles settled down, the girl said, “I’m Megan.”

“Sienna. Nice to meet ya.”

After getting more chips and pop, Megan asked Sienna, “Want to come to my house?”

“Sure,” Sienna said. They’d been inseparable after that.

She smiled fondly of the memory. Nine and ten and gangly was not as complicated as twenty-four and twenty-five. A lot had changed.

Megs was now a curvy-all-in-the-right-places five foot eight woman. She was no longer the tomboy, but a strong, independent, successful woman with the best afro Sienna had ever seen. Her skin was clear and beautiful, the color of a latte. Sienna in looks was the polar opposite of Megs. She had straight blond hair verses Megs’ curls that would disappear on the black beaches of Hawaii. Sienna stood more like a sturdy tree at six foot two and 160 lbs. compared to Megs’ hourglass shape. And she didn’t even want to get into her pitiful cup size.

“What are you smiling about baby-cakes?”

“Do you remember when we first met?” Megan smiled.

“Yeah. Good times.” Megs’ eyes narrowed. “So you’re coming out with me tonight. No more sittin’ home feeling sorry for yourself. You’re coming out with your girl and livin’ it up.” She gave Sienna a quick hug and then pulled her up out of her seat.

“Thanks Megs,” Sienna whispered as she took hold of her friend and returned her hug. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Not much, considering we’re practically joined at the hip, socially and financially speaking.” Sienna laughed, and Megs laughed too, the quiet trill of it relaxing Sienna a bit.

She wasn’t kidding when she said they were joined at the hip. They’d started their own jewelry business right out of college. Sienna dove into an art major while Megan crunched numbers. Sienna had never had a good hold on numbers but Megs, on the other hand, could look at a set of digits and know the total in an instant. She was a beautiful brainiac. They were the perfect pair.

“So, you going to help me pick out an outfit or what?”

“Sure thing baby-cakes.” When her friend turned to open the door off the back porch, Sienna grabbed her coffee mug, when she thought she heard, “And I’ll be sure to find you a good man too.”

Sienna shook her head and followed Megan into the house. For the first time all week, she was truly smiling.