Just One Little Lette

So sorry about that wonky last post. I’m trying out this new media system called Hootsuite. Have you heard of it? Basically it’s the universal remote to your browser. You pin it at the top, and if ever there’s something you want to share with the public, Hoosuite is connected to your blog(s), your Facebook, and your Twitter. Also, you can schedule when you want the post, tweet, alert to go live. Pretty sweet, huh?

Oh . . . Hootsuite. I GET IT!

No, probably no connection there. And in case you were thinking to yourself “Wow, Cara’s really in the know,” let me walk over needle in hand and burst that little thought bubble. Like everything else that’s super cool and newfangled, my husband found Hootsuite in his little bag of tricks. If you’re interested, there’s a very brief video that explains how to use Hootsuite here.

Okay, onto what I meant to be posting about.

Have you seen these? Book covers with one letter missing? (Hence the missing letter in my post title; didn’t want you to think I was getting careles. <— see what I did there?)

I’m fairly easy to amuse and quick to laugh at silliness, but seriously, these really are terrifically clever!

 

a

 

b

 

d

 

c

 

e

 

g

 

h

 

j

 

k

 

m

So you know I had to try and come up with one. I don’t have the time – nor the ability – to create a graphic to go along with it but how about . . . . . . .

THE GIRL WITH THE EARL EARRING

Hah! Can you see it? Instead of a “pearl,” a tiny earl swings from her lobe, Indiana Jones-style.

a1

Okay, your turn. Go!

 

 

 

Original Source here

 

Caine’s Arcade

When I was a little girl, I loved to play office. My parents operated their own business, and as result there was always a surplus of paper, pens, clips, envelopes, folders — you name it, they had it — around the house. My father even had this stamp with his name and our home address on it. At eight years-old, I basically thought it was the coolest thing ever.

As for my office, I preferred to set up shop in my room; naturally, as that’s where I was in charge. There I would bring my clients in to discuss our handlings, and summon my employees for office-chats; for some reason I routinely found myself “forced” to penalize them for missing their deadlines. I’ll tell you now, it hurt me more than it hurt them. I considered myself to be a fair boss, but capable of laying down the law when necessary. I even had a badge. Okay, it was a name-tag, but it was pret-ty official looking.

When I wasn’t reprimanding my staff, I would organize everything into piles, or neatly in drawers. I would also make labels, and occasionally I found reason to tear things up; I did not have my own reason for doing so, but witnessed my father in this act many times, and I think I figured better safe than sorry. But what I remember most about playing office was the feeling of productivity, which in turn brought me joy, and still does to this day. Of course, in the end — or, I suppose I should say, the interim — I did not end up working in an office, but perhaps those skills aid me in my endeavor to write books. I like to think so, anyway. And I suspect it’s why, right now, all across the globe, there are tiny bakers and florists and homemakers and dentists and nurses all hard at work, doing what they love – maybe one day they’ll even get paid for it.

And there’s also this little guy, Caine, and his arcade. Ah, I am tempted to go into detail, expounding the awesomeness of what this young man has done. Instead, I’ll shut my mouth – er, my fingers. If you have not seen this video, I hope you’ll watch it now. In return you’ll find yourself smiling for a while, perhaps even the rest of the day, and who doesn’t need a nice, long smile. I did, and I’m still wearing it!

Happy Tuesday to you, my friends.

A Wingless Bird

We are a people easily inspired.

Should we be in the mood for something to encourage or uplift, it seems we need not exert ourselves beyond the click of a button. Pictures, music, clothing, food — it’s all there for our immediate access. In youth, inspiration is somewhat of a capacious, ethereal thing; it changes and morphs as rapidly as we do. Chance encounters, unfortunate circumstances, a generous accolade, a supportive parent — these experiences mold, shape, and respectively define what we consider to be inspirational.

What I find exceptionally grand is how, such as a match beneath brush, inspiration can ignite us, propel us upward and onward, all toward something that was otherwise not thought possible or attainable. Haven’t we all seen how even the unlikeliest of candidates found his or or her way after being “inspired” by a person, place, moment or thing. Truth be told  — and this shall be expanded upon in the dedication of Awakening Foster Kelly — I am only a writer only because my husband called me one first. I was given the name Cara at birth, the name Olsen in marriage, and the name writer by someone who saw something in me I never would have seen myself. True story.

For the most part, however, as we grow older, our successes and failures begin to outline a future; our goals align, usually, with what we are capable of achieving. Depending on what gifts we do or do not possess, our innate predilections, and the resources available to us, we will pursue our goals with alacrity, so long as there is enough reason and justification to do so.

Now, of course, there are those dauntless sorts who see steep snowy peaks as welcome challenge and benighted fathomless depths as great adventure; I am not one of these amalgams, though I am very much inspired by you. Write a blogpost and bring back pictures, please. Thank you.

I was inspired by something — or rather, I should say someone — this morning. But before I introduce you to a man you might already know of, I thought I would leave you with a few pictures that I imagine many of you, being the impassioned, focused, dedicated people you are, will endorse with pleasure and agreeability. Hopefully.

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