Creating a Peaceful Place

February 26, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Describe the most ambitious DIY project you’ve ever taken on.
View all responses

The most ambitious DIY project I’ve ever taken on? That’s easy. Landscaping my yard.

When I moved here, the yard was dirt and weeds. It looked okay because the weeds had been cut down to make the house look good when it was put on the market, but still, just weeds. I hadn’t planned on doing anything to improve the property because I didn’t want to have to take care of a yard, but there were things that needed to be done, such as rocks laid around the house to protect the foundation. Then, when I found out I was tripping on all the holes and rocks among the weeds, I decided I needed walking paths of crushed rock to keep from falling and breaking my neck. Or a hip, anyway.

Admittedly, I didn’t do any of the rock labor, but the finished work gave me a sort of yard pride that seemed to demand further work. So gradually, I planted a few bushes, a few flowers, filled in some of the gardens that were created by the walkways, and things escalated from there.

I had a lawn mower, so I put in a bit of a lawn since I didn’t want the mower to go to waste (a silly reason for a lawn, I know, but it’s the truth). I had sod put in, but when that all died (the people I hired put in the wrong grass), I dug it up and planted a more heat-resistant strain of grass.

And so it goes . . .

What makes this DIY project so ambitious is that there doesn’t seem to be an end to it. There’s a lot of work just involved in maintenance, so that keeps me outside for a couple of hours each day, which makes me see how much more I can improve. I can see spots that need to be filled in or bits of color that will improve the looks of one of the gardens. And then there are container gardens and hanging pots to be replanted every year.

Yep, an unending project when in fact, what I had wanted was a yard that took no work.

Oh, well, there are worse things than a garden demands attention. And truly, I can’t think of a better use of my time than creating this peaceful place.

Besides, there all are the surprises I find, like this morning. Look! Crocuses!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in gardening, home, house, life. Tags: , , , , , , , . 8 Comments »

Finding a Purpose

February 24, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What is the biggest challenge you will face in the next six months?
View all responses

Ever since I watched monks Walk for Peace with such purpose and dedication, I’ve been thinking I need to find a purpose rather than just living simply from day to day. (This can be construed as simply living from day to day or living simply, and both would be correct.) And that’s what I came here to say, that the biggest challenge I will face in the next six months is finding a purpose.

But do I need a purpose? Does anyone? A sense of purpose might make someone feel good, feel as if their life was worth living, maybe even make them feel important, but the purpose itself might not be a good thing. For example, a pattern killer (the current appellation for a serial killer) generally has a strong sense of purpose, which is good for the killer, but not the victims.

(I was going to use more specific examples, such as the protestors who felt their purpose was to interfere in the arrest of a child rapist and murderer, and so the perpetrator got away. I am sure the protestors felt so proud of themselves for fulfilling their purpose that they would never see how their actions led directly to more heinous crimes committed by that perpetrator. But I decided not to use such examples because I can never be sure if people would read my words and their intent as I meant them, or if they would read their own emotions into the example. Hence, my example of the pattern killer because I’m sure most of us can understand that in such as case, a sense of purpose and where it leads is not a good thing.)

Oddly, while thinking about finding a purpose, I came across something called “purpose angst,” which is “the stress, frustration, and worry stemming from the intense pressure to find, define, and live a meaningful life.” That, too, made me wonder how important it is to find a purpose. If the search for a meaningful life is such a dire burden, maybe it’s the search that’s the problem. Maybe we’re not supposed to search for meaning in our lives. Maybe our lives themselves are the meaning.

In reading people’s reactions to the Walk for Peace, I saw an interesting comment. The commenter said that people who talked about the walk and how it affected them mentioned things like the monks’ dedication, their perseverance, their kindness. But he said the real reason the walk touched people was the simplicity. Everything about modern life is noise and chaos, but then came the monks. They simply walked in single file in silence. No noise, no chaos, no bunching up. Just that single orderly line. Simple. Touching.

Although their message was peace, that the way to peace is to find it is within ourselves, maybe the true message was simplicity.

In which case, there is no need for me to find a purpose. I am living that purpose: a simple life lived simply.

So, since finding a purpose is a challenge I won’t be facing in the next six months, what challenge will I face? I can’t think of any offhand, but life has a way of surprising us. I’ll let you know six months from now what, if any, challenge I faced.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, life. Tags: , , , , , , , . 10 Comments »

That “R” Thing Again

February 20, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
If you could permanently ban a word from general usage, which one would it be? Why?
View all responses

There are many terms that really get on my nerves, words and phrases I don’t use and would like expunged from the English/American language: “110%” (a physical impossibility); “intestinal fortitude” (just have the guts to say “guts”); “veggies” (the very sound of that mawkish word gags me), and “climate change” (the term is redundant. Climate is change. Climate is always changing).

Recently I have expunged another word from my vocabulary, and though I would like it banned from general use, simply the idea of suggesting banning it would seem to prove the very thing I would like banned.

It’s that “R” thing I wrote about yesterday. The word is so dangerous, so powerful and pejorative that just being called that “R” thing will bring down collective wrath on your head. It’s the one thing that is outside the normal rule of “innocent until proven guilty.” If you’re called that “R” thing, whether or not you did anything to earn that slur, that’s what you are. End of story. Except it’s not the end. Just being called that “R” thing can get you banned from social sites online and community groups offline, can get you ostracized from family or friends, and can sometimes get you fired from your job. It also subverts the law — too many district attorneys refuse to charge criminals for minor crimes and even great crimes, and they ignore fraudsters for stealing billions because they don’t want to be tarnished with the brush of that “R” thing.

I’m not saying the “R” thing doesn’t exist, but that the word itself has become something separate from the behavior it describes. It’s become such a triggering word that the true definition has all but been lost — there seems to be a disconnect between how easily the word is thrown out there and what it actually means.

People have become hyper-vigilant toward cultural nuance or slight and what can be perceived as aggression (even if it’s not directed at them), and they are quick to point it out. At the same time, we have become hypersensitive to and fearful of being called that “R” thing. In a world where words are considered an instance of violence, this could be the most violent. It’s also a weapon, a sure-fire way to silence opposition, to shut down any discussion, and with it any hope of true understanding because it’s an attack on the speaker, not on what is spoken.

Nowadays, it seems as if everything is viewed through that “R” lens, even when unnecessary, even if what you say is true or is not in any way divisive or derogatory.

Yesterday, I posted a blog about the conservative black commentators I have been following. As far as I can see, there was nothing discriminatory about what I wrote, and yet I hesitated to post it because of that “R” thing. I’d already been slandered on Facebook for simply sharing a post from a black commentator, and I didn’t want to continue being slandered. On the other hand, why should I not be able to write what I think just because others might see that “R” thing in my words?

Anyway, whatever anyone else does, in my little world (basically just me and this blog), I am getting rid of that word. There are plenty of other words to use to describe that particular attitude, words that aren’t as incendiary, words such as prejudiced, biased, intolerant, discriminatory, xenophobic, ethnocentric. Too bad I can’t also get rid of the emotional connotations attached to being called the “R” thing, but I’m afraid it’s now embedded the world today, and even in my own psyche. Still, there’s hope . . . well, probably not. I’ve always been sensitive to any sort of slight, and I don’t see that changing any time soon.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in blogging, culture, writing. Tags: , , , , , . 2 Comments »

Favorite Drink

February 14, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What is your favorite drink?
View all responses

My favorite drink? As in favorite everyday beverage? Or as in adult beverage?

For an everyday drink, I generally stick with a cup of tea in the morning, or perhaps a weak milky coffee, and then drink water the rest of the day. Boooring!

So I won’t talk about that — I’ll talk about my favorite “drink” drink. As in alcohol. To be honest, I barely drink, even though my sister once gifted me with a lovely miniature liquor cabinet, something I always wanted. (Yeah, I know — weird for a self-proclaimed hardly-ever drinker to want something like that, right?)

A couple times a year, if I’m feeling under the weather, I’ll make myself a hot toddy with a fiery ginger tea, lemon, and spiced rum, but that’s for medicinal purposes. And every once in a great while, I’ll take a nip of something in my liquor cabinet just to experience my wild side.

Though I seldom drink even them, there are two drinks I do like, but mostly because they come with memories.

Exactly ten years ago today, I camped at Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument on my travels across the county. Stunning scenery, beautiful weather, congenial fellow campers. One evening, a camper (drawn by my car, more than me), who was exploring the south and west on his motorcycle, brought a bottle of Grand Marnier to my campsite. He and I sat under the bright stars with the glow of Mexico to the south, sipped our drinks, and chatted. It was such a magical experience that even today, a sip of Grand Marnier will take me back to that warm star-lit night.

I also occasionally have a sip of Bailey’s Irish Cream, but mostly, I save what I have so I can drink a toast to my mother on her birthday or deathday as a memorial, since it was her favorite drink. The glass I use is a regulation Bailey’s glass that once belonged to her. (She used to have a cupboard full of unmatched stemware. I kept those goblets when I cleaned out the house after my father died, and so now I, too, have a cupboard of unmatched glassware.)

Even considering those special two drinks, that little glass display case sits in my kitchen cabinet mostly unused but delighting me with the thought of finally having my very own miniature liquor cabinet.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, culture, life. Tags: , , , , , . 6 Comments »

Dreaming up a Home

February 11, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Write about your dream home.
View all responses

I’m sitting here with a smile on my face, thinking about my dream home. For me, my dream home isn’t a fantasy, it’s a reality. It’s the very house I am now sitting in. What makes it a dream home is that I dreamed it up.

Years ago, I went through a huge change in my life. My life mate/soul mate of thirty-four years, Jeff, died, leaving me stranded here in this world without a home (he was my home) and with a single responsibility left to me — to go and help care for my aged father. I also was left with a sense that somewhere after the dark present, there would be a brighter future for me. During those long years of grief, I held to that thought. After my father died, I was adrift again, becoming a serial nomad — renting rooms and taking long trips.

I never thought of owning a house. It seemed too far from reality to even dream of it — just the thought of the upkeep seemed burdensome to say nothing of all the financial obligations a house engendered.

I spent years trying to figure out what to do, then when a relative suggested buying a house, it hit a chord. I had a bit of savings, but nowhere near enough to buy a house, or so I thought. Except, there was one corner of the world where house costs were still unbelievably low. I visited the area, and it was okay — way out on the plains, far from any major city, but I didn’t care. I just needed a place to live out my years.

A realtor took me around, and though I didn’t find a house I liked or could afford or that was still on the market a day or two after it was listed, I made friends with the real estate agent. Then I went home, thought about all I’d seen, and I dreamed.

I dreamed of a house with a new galley kitchen, a bathroom that would still be accessible no matter what old age brought, a living room with lots of screened windows,

an office with a day bed for reading and working/playing on the computer. Oh, I dreamed and dreamed, dreaming every single detail of what I would like into existence.

Then one day I got an email from Zillow though I’d never signed into that real estate site and certainly never signed up for emails. The email showed a simple house and said I might like it. I checked out the photos of the inside and gasped in disbelief. There it was — exactly what I’d dreamed up.

It wasn’t so much the looks of the house that got to me but the inside since I live in rooms and don’t spend a lot of time looking at the outside of where I live. I immediately called the realtor. She went to look at it, told me what she found, arranged for an inspector, and when I asked her to arrange the sale, she panicked and had me sign an affidavit that it was my choice to buy the house unseen. But I knew it would work out okay. After all, it was my house.

Three things were not in the dream — 1) the town itself because at that point I didn’t really care where I lived, I just wanted not to have to worry; 2) friends because I moved for the house and my future; the friends I’ve made have been a true blessing; 3) a landscaped yard because I didn’t want to have to take care of a lawn or a garden, and yet, over the years, I’ve created a beautiful outdoor space for myself.

So here I am, sixteen years after Jeff’s death, seven years after the Zillow email, living in that brighter future I’d believed would come. Living in the very house I dreamed up.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in dealing with old age, gardening, grief, home, life. Tags: , , , , . 15 Comments »

Holding the World Together

February 6, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
The most important invention in your lifetime is…
View all responses

The most important invention in my lifetime? That would be easy if it weren’t a toss-up between duct tape and twist ties. Still, together they make up the most important invention because between the two of them, you can fix just about anything.

A broken tool handle? Duct tape! A hose that’s sprung a leak? Duct tape! A quick fly trap? Duct tape! Blisters when hiking? Duct tape! A tear in your slippers? Duct tape! No packing tape? Duct tape!

I am using the name “duct tape” here, which is supposedly the correct term, though one use for duct tape that is not recommended is sealing ducts since the adhesive can come loose with heat. The name by all rights should be “duck tape” since the original cloth-backed tape was made with duck fabric — a heavy-duty cotton cloth. Either way, duct tape or duck tape, that ubiquitous product has many uses. People used it in crafts so often that now it comes in a multitude of colors or patterns. But I stick with the gray. It’s easy to use and so cheap I can keep one roll in the house and one in the garage.

As for twist ties? Again, a multitude of uses.

Need to stake plants? Twist ties! Electric cords a mess? Twist ties! Zipper pull broken off? Twist ties! Not enough tree ornament hangers? Twist ties! Cables and charger cords unorganized? Twist ties! No binder for loose leaf paper? Twist ties! Twist ties tangled? Twist ties!

I’m sure there are plenty of important inventions in my life time, but these are the two holding the world together.

Oops. I did a bit of research and discovered that both were invented earlier than I thought, though the form of those inventions we use today was developed during my lifetime

Duck tape (the original tape using army-green duck fabric) was invented during World War Two as a way of sealing ammunition boxes to prevent moisture. However, in my lifetime, the green duck became the grey duct that we are all so familiar with.

Twist ties — paper-wrapped wire pieces — were invented in the 1920s and patented in the 1930s, but it wasn’t until the 1960s that a specific twist-tie machine was invented to create the better design that we use today.

Still, whatever their history, I stand by my premise that without these two inventions, our world would fall apart.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in culture, history/myth, How to, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 12 Comments »

My Every Day

February 5, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Describe your most ideal day from beginning to end.
View all responses

My most ideal day? Well, that’s simple enough to describe — it’s pretty much my every day so far this year:

Get up. Do stretching exercises. Make the bed. Have a cup of tea. Play a bit of a hidden object game. Write a blog post. Read. Have breakfast. Read. Have lunch. Read. Take a short walk. Read. Rest a bit. Read. Have a quick snack. Read. Check online to see what if anything is going on with my blog. Read. Read some more until it’s time to go to bed, then read until lights out.

Well, that’s my every day except for the walk. I keep trying to get back into walking every day, but I can’t seem to always find the energy. Of course, in an ideal day, I’d have plenty of energy, no sinus issues, and the get up and go to just get up and go. Sometimes, of course, my ideal day involves a visit with a friend or neighbor or whoever else I might encounter during the walk, but apparently not today.

I used to play the hidden object game a lot more until much of that online time got supplanted by blogging. Odd how that happened. I never actually decided to start posting every day as I used to. I just . . . did.

I must admit, blogging does help make my day an ideal one. It feels like coming home, in a way, a comfortable way to spend time, a pleasant way to communicate without having people cut me off while I am speaking if they disagree. (You might cut me off and stop reading, but since I’d never know, it’s not hurtful.) It also gives me something to think about other than the state of the world and the lack of common sense (though why something that’s in such short supply is called “common,” I don’t know, and neither does anyone else, apparently, since this is a sentiment I encounter so often that it’s embarrassingly trite). Best of all, blogging allows me to play with words, like above when I wrote “the get up and go to just get up and go.” I tend to be too serious, so word play lets me indulge my fantasy that I’m witty and charming and lighthearted. (And no, that fantasy is not part of my ideal day since ideally, I need to be what I am, whatever that might be.)

Well, this part of my ideal day has been fulfilled. Now on the next part: Reading!!

(I couldn’t find a photo of myself reading, so here is the next best thing: my 97-year-old father reading one of my books during his last days.)

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in blogging, books, life, writing. Tags: , , , , , . 7 Comments »

Grateful

February 4, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?
View all responses

I’ve experienced many significant life events and life-changing experiences that influenced my perspective on life, but I don’t have any interest in rehashing any those past traumas. Nor do I have any present traumas to talk about since, luckily, I’m going through a rather static time right now. No major life experiences. I am still enamored with the experience of owning my own home and landscaping the yard, but that’s become simply my life.

What does affect me, and does more every day, is the passage of time. I’ve reached the age of no return — my body no longer heals itself quickly, and so small infirmities will begin to add up leading inevitably to a frailer old age than I might have envisioned. If I’m careful, I might not become as frail as I fear, so that’s the big way that time influences my perspective on life now —carefulness. Mindfulness.

Mindfulness is not some sort of esoteric practice, but a very practical way of approaching the end of the road — being careful. I used to move quickly, but now I move deliberately, mindful of where I place my feet. Too many older people have lost their independence because of a fall, and I’ve already destroyed enough of my body by falling (fake elbow, multiple pins in my wrist and forearm). I tend to think I’m still too young to have to worry about losing my independence, but things can happen in an instance, and I am not taking a chance. At least I’m trying not to.

I take care of myself as best as I can, though I admit, it’s not as good a job as I did when I was younger. I might also be coddling myself more than I should, using any small malady as an excuse not to exercise, but maybe coddling is a necessary a part of taking care of oneself.

I also do things like find chores in the kitchen while I’m cooking so that I don’t get distracted and walk away from a potential hazard. And I pay attention to the sort of accidents that happen when people get older so that I can protect myself, if at all possible, from that happening to me. (Not that we can protect ourselves from everything, but being careful means at least trying.)

Mostly, I’m grateful. Grateful for everything I can do. Grateful for every day I wake up. Grateful for every pain-free moment. Grateful I can still read and understand what I’m reading. Grateful I can still eat what I like. Grateful for the friends I have and the companionship they give me.

Just . . . grateful.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, house, life. Tags: , , , , , , , . 7 Comments »

A Big To-Do About What To Do

February 3, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.
View all responses

Nothing on my to-do list ever gets done for the simple reason that I don’t have a to-do list. If I did have a to-do list, the first thing on the list would be to make a to-do list, which I would not do, so again, the answer would be that nothing on my to-do list ever gets done.

I’m of the firm belief that what doesn’t need to be done today should be put off until tomorrow. And if there is something that needs to be done today? I do it. Simple. If I know ahead of time I will need to do something today (because each day I kept putting it off until tomorrow, and tomorrow finally came), I put a reminder on my calendar. For example, this was the last day to pay my car insurance, which I know because it’s on my calendar, so I did it. But I remembered anyway, so the reminder was simply insurance insurance. (If that doesn’t make sense, no problem; I often try to be clever and only end up being too clever for my own good.) I occasionally leave myself a sticky note to remind me of something I need to remember to do, such as letting a faucet drip during our below freezing nights. I suppose each of those sticky notes could be construed as a list, but a list with a single reminder isn’t much of a list.

I come by leaving myself occasional notes honestly. My father always did it, though my mother never did. In fact, she was a bit bemused by his reminders. She often told the story of coming across a note he wrote before they were married reminding him to marry her. “Would you really have forgotten to marry me?” she supposedly asked. And his answer, “No, but I didn’t want to take a chance.”

The note apparently worked because they did get married. They celebrated their sixtieth anniversary a couple of months before my mother died. The January before their September anniversary, doctors diagnosed my mother with cancer and told her she had three to six months to live. She told them that wasn’t good enough. She needed nine months. The anniversary was that important to her, and she did make it. (The photo accompanying this article is one taken of all us women at the get-together.)

I think I’m getting off the track here. But really, what is there to say about a to-do list that doesn’t list anything to do?

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in life. Tags: , , , , , , , , , . 9 Comments »

My First Contact with Computers

January 31, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
Write about your first computer.
View all responses

My first computer wasn’t really a computer. It was a Smith Corona Wordsmith 250 electric typewriter with a few computer-like features, such as a 50,000-word dictionary, a small memory where you could type what you wanted before it printed on the page, and being able to change to italics or bold with a shortcut.

By the time I got my first taste of a real computer, a 10-year-old hand-me-down IBM Thinkpad, I had some inkling of what was possible. Still, I was a bit nervous having to learn an entirely new way of writing, especially since I’d heard horror stories of the early days about how hard it was to boot up a computer and getting it all set up. Then I remembered that a vast majority of people who were adept at computer usage were children, or at least children compared to me, and that gave me courage to forge ahead. But there was no problem. I turned on the computer and immediately started typing. (I cheated, though. When I found out I was going to be getting a computer, I got some general usage books from the library and read them.) By that time, so much of the fiddling with setting up a computer was gone and the computer did most of the work, and I took to it immediately. Never had a problem figuring things out. Once I knew the basics of Word, the rest seemed intuitive. I’d also read that there was almost nothing done on a computer that couldn’t be undone, so I was fearless in trying whatever came to mind.

That computer didn’t last long, just long enough to scan my typed manuscripts, edit them, format them according to publishing standards, and start sending them out.

As the Thinkpad started having problems, I asked around to see if any relative had a computer they wanted to get rid of, and one said that he’d see what he could do.

A couple weeks later, UPS delivered a package. I opened that box and completely lost my breath, stunned by what I saw — a brand-new Dell Inspiron. No one had ever given me such a fabulous (and expensive!) gift. The date of receipt is one of those dates I will never forget, it was that important to me.

I wish I could say that Dell computer jumpstarted my career as a published author and made me an instant success, but that wouldn’t be true. What it did start me on was a lifelong relationship with computers and the internet. And with friends all over the world. (I was lucky enough to meet many of them on my various travels, which truly was a thrill!)

One of the first things I did once I was set up with the internet at home was to start this blog. And here I am, eighteen and a half years later. All because of that Inspiron.

And yes, I thanked him — many times, actually, probably to the point of embarrassing him.

I still have that computer, though it is defunct. The battery is worn out, and even if I could get a new battery, I doubt there’s enough power in the machine to run today’s programs. What I have now is another Inspiron, one I gifted to myself, and though it’s developed a couple of idiosyncrasies during its seven years of life, it still does everything I need it to. (The major problem is that doesn’t like being put to sleep — it needs to be rebooted when it’s awakened — and hibernation isn’t a power option, so I have to shut it down every time or just walk away and let it do what it wants.)

And oh, in case you’re wondering, the photo is of the computer I was gifted way back when.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in blogging, internet, life. Tags: , , , , , , . 4 Comments »
« Older posts