Anita VP

Since we’re staying with my husband’s parents while in between houses, the tiny humans and I have had much more time than ever before to observe and enjoy things from his years growing up.   The current decided favorite of mine from his past is a library of informational, mostly-nonfiction books put out by Walt Disney. With topics ranging from science to riddles to shapes and colors, these books each highlight the titled subject matter in true nostalgic Disney fashion.   Presenting the material in an age-appropriate and balanced fashion, these books really feel like the most adorable vintage read.   Perfect for the young child.   My personal choice thus far has been the It's A Small World book, inspired by the ride itself, highlighting children in countries around the world. Perhaps equally sweet is the cursive note inside from his grandmother and his subsequent claiming of the books – his own name written in chunky red marker, letters perfectly ben...

Today’s entry is brought to you by the Little Red Hen: Over the past several days, I profoundly learned the sentiment behind several idiomatic expressions.   Cherries make for good teachers.   Picking all that I planned on using myself and then turning around to do anything productive with them is in fact a time-consuming process; time-consuming processes allow ample space for contemplation. I put on my shoes.   I got the bucket and the ladder.   I walked out to the tree.   I picked.   I discarded the bad.   I de-stemmed.   I washed.   I pitted.   I divided into groups – freeze, jam, crumble.   I bagged.   I chopped, stirred, and jarred.   I fixed crumble topping and baked.   I washed my hands.   I ate. First and foremost, let’s be thankful for orchardists and anyone picking fruit (and God’s good green earth).   Secondly, I used to understand the term “low-hanging fruit” primarily in ...

Perhaps one of the sweetest sides of fatherhood for a dad of young children is evening story time.   After a long day of work for dad and a long day of being with mom for the kids, curling up together and delving into picture book magic land produces a win for all.   Creative voices, funny looks between page turns, and observing all of the little details.   And as a mom, it’s so pleasant to watch your kids and their dad bonding this way. So to my husband, the father of our two humans, and to all story-reading dads, I bid you Happy Father’s Day! #AnitaVP #fathersday #dadsday #fathersday2019 #father #dad #storytime #picturebook

Last Friday, we left Colorado.   I’ve written here quite a bit about my move – how my orchids have anything to do with it , why I’ll miss my sink , what to pack , etc. etc.   Yet, when I sat down to write to the prospective homeowners, I stared at a blank screen for a quite a bit. To bring my story full circle, please allow me to share what was finally worth saying to them: Welcome home!   When we moved into this house in 2013, it certainly looked a bit different – nearly every wall was yellow and the outside was a super faded yellow.   Our lack of furniture was nearly comical!   Fast forward a few years and add a few gallons of paint, it transformed into a home for us. Moreover, at the time we moved in, we had no children; subsequently, we’ve had the blessing of bringing both of our children home here. While there’s certainly a million little things that I would like to share with you about this home, I’ll just leave you with two thoughts. ...

I prayed that my orchid flowers would be beautiful for home showings.   And they were.   Oh, they were completely wonderful.   I had one plant that had over thirty flowers.   Truly something that sings to my soul. I recently happily took on the role of orchid babysitter for my girlfriend who took a long trip.   Upon discussing her flowers and their state, I explained that, “orchids go through natural bloom cycles and it may be a while until they bloom again.” Very first thing this morning, I noticed that the first flower had fallen from my recently uber productive plant.   Today also marks one week out from our move to Washington. Perhaps my buddies, the orchids, just knew that they needed to show off their best for lots of prospective buyers – and that now again it is the time for change.   Naturally occurring symbolism in the everyday around me is one of my favorite things.   Well played, orchids.   Well played. ...

Presently, I reside in packing purgatory.   With our move date scheduled out about ten days from now, my house is dismantled, without a lick of décor, and far too many plastic totes everywhere. For some time, I’ve considered myself to be a “closeted minimalist.”   Not my actual closets; think of this as being a reflection on my dabbling in the world of minimalism without full public commitment.   Nonetheless, whether I suppose we have less than some and more than others, the fact remains that I do not miss much of what I’ve had packed for months. Now that we’re getting down to brass tacks, I’ll just ponder packing what truly matters. This is the most important box of what we have – ketchupy faces and all.   (All the other stuff is just stuff.) #AnitaVP #packing #moving #washington #colorado #whatmatters #parenting #Human#1 #Human#2 #minimalism

The old expression of “when it rains it pours” undoubtedly is still in wide usage because of its relatability.   This is the Americanized version, thanks to Morton Salt , of the older English phrase , “it never rains, but it pours.”   Nonetheless, the sentiment that undesirable news and events come in distinct waves is understandable and universal. At present, in Colorado, we’re having late May snowstorms, yielding in clumps of heavy wet snow on fully leaved and blooming trees.   Perhaps some of the greatest impact is felt by the most mature trees.   The largest trees, with the thickest trunks and tallest branches, which in turn provide the most shade, experience the most breakage.   Dense chunks of snow and sleet cling to the fresh, full spring green leaves and SNAP off huge limbs.   The distinct sound of our trees breaking woke me several times in the night.   Six o’clock in the morning was thus characterized for me by the dragging o...

Largely in part, houses are just domiciliary buildings and it’s the people with whom you live that make it into a home.   But it perhaps withstands to say that for someone who has resided in the same house for a significant enough time, certain unique features of a house may be missed after a move.   Of all the things, I think I may miss my kitchen sink. That’s right.   I may miss my kitchen sink.   (Queue cliché phrase of “we’re taking everything but the kitchen sink.”)   It’s a dark colored composite sink.   I like that it seems to keep clean easier than some sinks and the faucet is nice, but that’s not really what it’s about.   I’ve heard it said that a sink filled with dirty dishes represents happy mouths having been fed.   It couldn’t be more true.   Countless used dishes in my sink here have been used by people I love, with food that I gladly prepared.   Thus in turn, my empty sink has symbolized full circle accompl...

We decided last minute (read this Wednesday) to come to Taos this weekend.   Checking New Mexico off of our bucket list simultaneously provided a much-needed escape.   I adore spontaneous adventure and exploration, so this just tickles me with delight. Taos, set in the northern high desert of New Mexico, is known for its community of artists – and it is so pleasantly apparent upon arrival!   The beautiful adobe buildings contrasted with the turquoise trim, no less in glorious spring, are clearly the inspiration for many talented folks! While I think that my talents probably lie mostly in the realm of words, my repressed Inner Bohemian just couldn’t get enough of all of the art, textiles, pottery, etc. etc.   I’m feeling so fortunate to be able to take home a little gem from Taos home with me. There’s something to be said for buying goods actually from where ever it is that you’re visiting.   I find myself dismayed whenever shops purpo...

I really like the photo above because I feel like it shows a different side to my child.  I see this serious side in her, regularly and consistently.  Observant.  Determined.  Focused.  In the ever-growing, ever-present world of social media, especially for those of us who “mom,” the photos loitering about seem to be nothing but picture-perfect smiles.   Cheese. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like those too.   I perhaps like smiling, ideal children more than anything.   I work SO hard to get that perfect shot, where their eyes gleam and their cheeks beam.   “Look here, look at mommy, yes, look at the camera, [indistinguishable attention-getting sounds].” What I also like is capturing her complete persona.   She, like a multifoliate rose, is beautifully complex and deep.   Beyond only seeing the gloriously happy, Disneyland-day, bubbliness, I appreciate that she has sides of her that are focused and determined. ...

Some of my writing as of late as looked a tad different than my usual.   In addition to working on my picture book manuscript about moving, I’ve been writing my house description for the MLS, a note to leave for the house showings, etc. I know that for a lot of home buyers, emotional appeal is a thing.   Yet perhaps moreover, this all is emotional for me to sell this house!   Much of my writing in my career has been dry, dry, dry.   Like, let me tell you about mutual fund share prices and the reason why your complaint doesn’t hold water.   But man alive, you start writing about your first house, where you brought home babies, and queue the internal water works! #AnitaVP #moving #selling #openhouse #waterworks

Self-confidence is a tricky beast.   Tricksy Hobbitses.   Tricky to rock around.   It’s tricky to know where the fine line is between knowing you’re on to something good and listening to the voices around you – be it in the arena of something personal, professional, writing, social, parental, etc. That innate sense of creativity and determination, guided by gut and inner voice, isn’t inherently one that needs to be silenced.   I’d hazard to say that most great works of art (in any form) or inventions wouldn’t exist if their creators listened to the negative noise.   But isn’t that where things get tricky ?   How do you know what’s negative noise and what’s actually constructive?   How do you know you’re on to something great and other people can’t see your vision?   How do you know you’ve really got a bomb of an idea that’s going nowhere?  What do you do when you get a bad critique?  Or no one is interested in buying what y...

The proverbial ‘they’ say that job change, having a baby, and moving are some of the most stressful things in life.   So why not pack that all into the span of less than 12 months, right?   Sure – I’m not crazy.   I’m totally crazy.   Just yesterday, I marveled at the fact that I’m lucky my head is attached at the neck or I would surely misplace it.   It’s also a wonder I’ve not fallen sick with all that’s going on over here. Nonetheless, I’m working my heinie off to help aid for smoother transition for my kids.   So what would my gut reaction be to do to help with that transition: write a new manuscript around the concept, of course!   At the moment, it’s titled WHEN I MOVE.   I’m looking to create something to help Human #1 develop a healthy internal monologue regarding the move.   Inspired by the narrative voice of books like IN MY ROOM , I’m stepping out of my comfort zone and writing something from a first-person point of view. ...

One of my favorite things is when I get the sensation that I am actively, in that very moment, living out something that should be from a story.  Last Wednesday, Macho Man and I were out at a family-owned Mexican restaurant.  There was a middle-aged gentleman at a keyboard providing live entertainment.  I thought to myself, “live traditional music is pretty good for a Wednesday.”  We order our usuals of Tacos al Pastor (yum) and Arroz Con Pollo.  We begin to scarf down our chips and salsa like we’ve never eaten before – and then I paused.  Na na.. “Is that Hava Nagila?”  Na na.. Macho Man, mouth still full of chips, stopped crunching to listen too.  Hava... “That’s Hava Nagila.”  Hava Nagila... It was Hava Nagila.  Hava Nagila Mexican style, on a Casio keyboard.  I don’t know which story I was in there for a moment – but it was awesome! In the literary sense, juxtaposition is showing contrast by placing concepts sid...

In honor of International Women's Day, I can't help but think on what I hope that my daughter learns as she grows up. And really, for me, it's simple: I hope she learns to relish and flourish in the unique, God-intended plan for her.  I hope she learns to revel in the experience of being fully woman and fully human.  I hope she learns to lovingly support, serve, encourage, and value all those around her.  I hope she learns from the women in her life and their varied and distinct forms of strength. #AnitaVP #InternatinalWomensDay #daughter #hope

My husband is a true man’s man – a macho man.   Physically, mentally, socially, emotionally, etc.   And I wouldn’t have him any other way.   He’s big and bulky and buff and gruff.   He has a beard most men would envy.   He makes grunts Tim Allen style and he may be convinced that a little snus has him turned into a sexual tyrannosaurus.   When asked what he wants to eat, the answer typically is “meat.”   He, and I quote, “[doesn’t] have to work out, [he gets] to work out.”   Little bit Paul Bunyan, little bit Spartan, little bit Teddy Roosevelt, little bit Marlboro Man.   From here on out, we can call him Macho Man.   Every fiber of his being is characterized by testosterone – a bona fide, red-blooded, he-man. I’d like to think my feminine charm is some form of black magic antidote.   Perhaps it is – at least in a small and sufficient enough way.   Nonetheless, my black magic or otherwise, we make a great part...

When evaluating possible backgrounds for head shots with my photographer sister-in-law, I realized all of the fun options provided to me here “back home” in San Diego, as opposed to my “current home” in Colorado.   Bougainvillea has always been a favorite of mine – we even had a bougainvillea bush on our patio in the house where I grew up.   The color is hard to beat.   It really is its very own shade – bougainvillea pink.   (Quite frankly, if someone is unable to appreciate that phenomenal color then they are no friend of mine!) So I ask her, “how pink is your bougainvillea?”   And with a little education from my brother, I have learned that they are the most pink when they are dry and hot and have been in the sun a good deal.   The bracts (the pink parts surrounding the flower) thrive and are arguably the most beautiful in conditions most of us would deem to be unpleasant. Dry.   Thirsty.   Overheated.   Sun burnt.   Those ce...

Because my husband is traveling the entire week for work, I decided to go home to San Diego for the week to get a little bit of help with the kids and enjoy some time with my family.   Clearly, I need all the help I can take.   The morning we left, Human #1 began having “learning opportunities” at about 4:00 am.   Yay.   After much rallying, I produce a special breakfast in the airport – a $7.00 peanut butter and banana smoothie that she was pretty excited about.   She takes one sip.   She now only wants water.   That is parenting – right there. I digress. Returning to my hometown always feels like a form of nostalgic cleansing.   I love where I live now, but home is always invariably home .   I miss the scenery and the greenery.   And rain, in San Diego, is necessary and cathartic. I read something interesting the other day and it pains me that I cannot find the exact quote to properly credit and share with you al...

As a mom, I am aware that I’ll always have a bias.   Chances are if one of my kids makes it, I’ll like it.   Thankfully for me personally, I think that my mom is inclined to like most of my manuscripts.   Perhaps some of it can be attributed to shared taste and sense of humor.   Another chunk to understanding points of inspiration.   If my mom didn’t like my picture book manuscripts, I think we all might be worried. But as a writer, I am currently on the journey of discovering how I move from “my mom likes my work” to “an agent also likes my work.”   (“My mom likes it” has zero pull in a query.) Last year, I connected with a retired Children’s Lit professor and she encouraged me to find an agent.   As a result, I began thoughtfully submitting manuscripts to a few agents.   Statistical probability indicates rejection.   And that’s alright. Despite the decided emotional up and downs of sharing my work with others, the st...