Blog D. K. Christi

Visual Arts Junction Writing Contest Winners

Mon, 28 Dec 2009 19:15:00 -0500

Our First Visual Arts Junction

Writing Contest is a Tie.

Congratulations

Ed Leonard & Jacki Donnelly

A picture is worth a thousand words, as they say, and that was your assignment. Well, more accurately, 500 — 600 words. And writing about the above photo art, Valle Pintado by Aggie Villanueva, was the subject.

Our six judges returned a split decision, so without further ado Visual Arts Junction, and our many contest sponsors, take pride in introducing you to our two winners, and their winning entries. Click on the links below to see the entries on sponsors’ sites.

Life in the Valle Pintado

by Ed Leonard (Papa Ed)

Ed LeonardAnkles tucked and breathing slowed, I feel the tree dance, my wood platform sways and rocks in the hot southern trade winds. My sad, burnt, drought-stunted valley stretches before me. My humble ranch home swelters in a dry, coarse bunchweed field surrounded by stunted agreste woods that threaten to become caatinga.

Death menaces life like a Samhain specter. Gnarled stick trees grasp each other for desperate support. Their life juices drawn deep to survive the uncommon warm, dry winter. Earth spirits have driven the Numida fowl and the high plains antelope down the Tocantins to richer lands. The loss of precious water and the increased heat are taking a horrendous toll on animal and plant habitats in the Valle Pintado.

I have barely survived another winter. Spring has arrived with little promise, and my energy and will are suffering. I call out to the spirits of the jaguar and of the ocelot who once roamed here. But, they do not hear me.

I close my eyes, intent on escape. I release my saddened spirit. Hawk spirit enfolds me and I soar to a better time. I stroke the heavens and relish a gentle wind with a smooth glide. I alight to proudly perch atop a tall post and search the autumn grass for my choice of scampering breakfast.

The Valle Pintado proudly displays a dappled Autumn abstract quilt with primary colors blended and fused like fresh oils on nature’s canvas. My well-tended red adobe brick home blends quietly and comfortably before a large sugary wave of Palo Verde, Box Elder, and Hop Trees in full glory. My harvested corn patch glows golden yellow and my second growth wheat field rusty red.

A warm wind whispers, flicks leaves loose to float and flip their way to rich soil, and bathes my feathers in ripples. A hazy gray cooking fire screen rises among the trees with the rich smell of mesquite fired meat.

Two distant sandstone buttes, glimmer and flash with life, shrouded in milky early morning light. My world is balanced, healthy, and harmonious. I know now that the natural cycle of seasons will return my ranch to glorious life.

I spot a striped field mouse and launch, flapping lightly, then diving fast to my target. I dive and dive, but my prey remains distant. I linger, but the inevitable change reaches me. My spirit snaps back to my earth-bound body. Hawk has brought me hope and reminded me of the potential of my life in the Valle Pintado.

I resolve to exercise patience, to go back and seal my roof against the rain that must come again, to mend my fence against the predators that will return, to plant my corn and wheat knowing they will be nourished and watered. I resolve to hike to the top of the distant butte blessing all earth along the way. I resolve to come often to my tree platform and to meditate with the spirit of my totem animal, the hawk.

My sadness is gone.

Ed Leonard: My online name is papaed. I’ve been a compulsive reader and writer for nearly 50 years. I prefer poetry and have over 100 poems posted online. I’ve never tried to publish a book or articles in a magazine although I’ve done journalistic reporting freelance for several newspapers. I chose to place the Valle Pintado in the Tocantins watershed of Brazil and researched the habitat, geography, watershed, language, and native animals so that my 500 word piece reflects a possible mystical scenario there. I advocate meditation and peace issues in many of my writings and found your picture inspirational along those lines.

http://www.writerscafe.org/writers/edleonard/

http://papaed.multiply.com/

http://www.ipeace.me/profile/papaed

http://coldcoffee.ning.com/profile/papaed

http://nolan-ruizbooks.ning.com/profile/papaed

Judges Comments for Ed’s Entry

What I liked: You made the what and why of your transformations clear without actually saying it. I liked that you didn’t insult our intelligence as readers. That’s good storytelling. I empathized with your transformations; physical, spiritual and emotional, that produced a trust in, and ultimately a submission to, the Great Spirit through nature – a trust that transforms despair into hope restored, and then finally seeing things as they really are.

What could be improved: I know you had a word limit, but I’d like to see it more developed.

What I liked: What an intriguing story of hope. Beautifully painted images; excellent use of the first person POV. Thank you for your contribution to the contest and good luck with your writing career.

What could be improved: My only criticism pertains to the structure of one sentence: Two distant sandstone buttes, glimmer and flash with life, shrouded in milky early morning light. I don’t understand the comma after buttes or the switch from present to past tense (glimmer, flash, shrouded). I wish my own writing problems were so small.

What I liked: The imagery of the story is good and the writer’s effort to paint a story with apt descriptions works well.

What could be improved: The story reads like a synopsis for a much longer story. The grammar needs a little attention — split infinitives and occasional change of verb tense.

A Painted Mountain Life

by Jacki Donnelly

Jacki DonnellyIt was almost a month since I resigned as Editor in Chief of New York’s most popular fashion magazine “Moda”, but my mental alarm clock was still sounding off promptly at 6 a.m. For the past 29 days this annoyed me, but today was different. Today I started my new life- I left my upscale life and the chaos in NYC. I traded it all in for what I hoped would be a more peaceful and meaningful life.

***

My dearest friend lost a life long battle with cancer. During her last few months I didn’t spend as much time with her as I should have. I didn’t have the time, you know, with being successful and all. Luckily I made it to her before she died. She reminded me to enjoy the life’s little things, and not always focus on money and work. “You are only what you let yourself become.” she gently whispered. And with that I gently embraced her frail hand for the last time.

I finally understood the meaning behind her unsolicited suggestions. She always wanted me to take time off work, to go on a date or read a book, which I refused. I always justified my disregard by her not having or wanting the lavish lifestyle I was accustomed to. I was wrong. Now I sat humbled and dissatisfied.

At that moment I decided to change. I resigned from my job, sold my apartment and packed only the necessities, which included a book I had been working on for over twenty years. I searched the internet for a cabin to retreat to in the mountains. Finally I found a quaint cabin rental nestled in the Apache-Sitgreaves Forest. After a short telephone call with the owner I packed up my car and headed west.

***

I slowly got out of bed letting my feet touch the cold wooden floor. The sunrise was creeping over the mountains and into the cabins’ windows. The fall air had a slight chill with a sweet smell to it. I managed a fire in the ancient woodstove, the only heat source for the small cabin. I walked to the kitchen and poured me a cup of coffee in my only mug. I grabbed a sweater from the pile of clothes on the floor and wrote a few items on a box lid I needed from the market. My chores today were to unpack, set up a space to begin writing again, and groceries.

That would have to wait I wanted to enjoy my first cup of coffee of my new life. I walked out onto the porch and sat down in a rickety, wooden rocking chair. The warmth of my coffee felt good as it trickled down my throat to the pit of my stomach. The scenery took my breath away.

I was overwhelmed with a feeling of awe and tranquility, foreign feelings to me. Such beauty greeted me with open arms on that porch. I listened to the sweet melody of the Mountain Chickadees’ and the Western Meadowlarks’ coming from the forest that surrounded me. The wind was swooshing gently through the Locoweed and Indian Paintbrush wildflowers that outlined the small wooden cabins land. The trees adorning the mountains were reflecting shades of crimson, wheat and amber down to me.

I sat captivated. At that moment, with that warm cup of coffee in my hands, I knew I had made the right choice. Today would mark the day I started to “live” life. A Painted Mountain Life – one I could only dream.

http://literaryexpression.blogspot.com

Jacki Donnelly: I currently live in the tropical state of Florida. I am new to writing and am currently discovering my talents. Any commentary on the attached piece would be greatly appreciated. This will be my first piece entered for review! I am very excited and look forward to continuing my path of writing. I am 30 years old, married to a wonderful husband and have a wonderful Boxer puppy named Baxter.

This picture reminded me of a trip we took recently to the Appalachian mountains – Life is so much different in a quiet country setting. I have recently returned to college in pursuit of a degree in English with a Creative Writing emphasis, and so far I am loving every minute of it. I hope to one day become an editor for a small press!

Judges Comments for Jacki’s Entry

What I liked: I thought the story was well written and had a great story line. If the Author wished she could make this into a novel.

What could be improved: The one thing I would change would be to describe the picture more in depth.

What I liked: BROUGHT TEARS to my eyes. She obviously was drawn into the picture and let the emotions of it be real in her story. What I liked – she told a story, that had a beginning, middle and end – and left me wanting to know what happens next.

What could be improved: That’s a tough one. Jackie wrote a pretty powerful piece as far as I was concerned., she writes how I like to read.

What I liked: I chose Jacki’s story because of the creativeness of her story and how well it went with the picture. It showed a lot of imagination. That’s a good thing! Keep up the good work!

What could be improved: The one thing I would’ve changed in the story, was that it was told in the first person, a pet peeve of mine. First person should be left for non-fiction stories, in my opinion, such as the author’s biography in his/her own words or a memoir. Otherwise, it was great!

The Fine Print: Entries are judged on storytelling quality only. We do not judge on editing, manuscript prep, etc. Congratulations winners.

A Ghostly Memory

Sun, 29 Nov 2009 17:44:00 -0500

Ghost Orchid by DK Christi August 5, 2009, 6:00 pm

The natural world's beauty is the balm of the soul. After a long working day, I planned a visit to Corkscrew Swamp to visit my obsession, the ghost orchid. Thunder, lightning and rain squalls almost interfered. Fortunately, they cooled the air. As I walked along the path strewn with pine straw from the heavy winds, I had to use care to keep from slipping on the rain soaked boardwalk.

The Everglades were far from silent; birds were singing in many different tunes, all in harmony. The crickets and the tree frogs were also in competition. Red-headed woodpeckers were handling the drum section, accompanied by the deep base of bull frogs and an occasional alligator. I call it the "Swamp Symphony" and believe it's written just for me.

I was in a little hurry to reach my ghost orchid before the guides took down the scope. I made it. I gingerly put my eye to the eye piece careful to mind the sign, "look, but don't touch and don't kick the scope." A few rain drops at the eye piece and at the viewing end blurred the vision a little as I gazed upward into the high cypress canopy. Nothing could diminish the beauty I experienced. Large, white blooms were framed by the wide trunk in the background; the blooms hid the roots that snake around the tree. My heart raced with the beauty. This is my ghost orchid, my annual birthday gift in July that has continued blooming into August this year, a first.

The sheer size of the blooms far exceeded any I have seen in the two previous years since its first appearance. I know why. I became obsessed with the ghost orchid in July of 2007, following its blooming daily through the three summer months and returned in 2008 for a second rapturous experience. I saw the dancing ghosts and felt their spiritual power; I almost cried as their blooms turned brown and disappeared. The Naples Daily News even documented my obsession among the other strangers who became equally fascinated.

My obsession and fixation on this rare and exotic flower led to writing "Ghost Orchid" a novel of mystery surrounding one family's lies, loves and redemption while the ghost orchid worked its magic. A beautiful Irish girl in search of her history finds more than she seeks in this drama of death and resurrection. Her passion is photography; yet a chasm in her heart seeks what only the ghost orchid can fulfill. I was compelled to write "Ghost Orchid" as its framework and characters met me on my daily walks to my own viewing of this special flower that has no leaves. Some say it is often associated with graves, the manifestation of the soul. I see elegance and beauty beyond imagination.

"Ghost Orchid " is finally written and ready for release by L & L Dreamspell soon. I can hardly wait. Today, my ghost orchid celebrated the completion of its story with glorious, healthy white blooms in my honor. What a day of celebration! I even thought, "if I marry, I want to carry ghost orchids, pure and white." What a silly thought! That's the power of my orchid ghost.

Ghost Orchid at Mobipocket

Tue, 22 Sep 2009 20:20:00 -0400

http://www.mobipocket.com/en/eBooks/eBookDetails.asp?BookID=221583

A mysterious orchid is central to a story of love, lies, and redemption.

Once more before I die…the haunting mantra of a lonely woman. A woman grieving more than one loss. On her regular walks amongst the splendor of the Audubon Society sanctuary, situated at the edge of the Florida Everglades, the sights and sounds of nature filled the void in Mel’s soul.

She found peace here. No tears for what might have been. Only joy for having experienced the ecstasy of a great love. Her secrets stayed buried.

In another part of the world an exquisitely beautiful young woman also found peace by immersing herself in nature, capturing its beauty on film for National Geographic.

Educated in Europe’s finest boarding schools, Neev became a model at fourteen, but after four years of posing and false smiles she knew she wanted more out of life. She quit modeling to study Philosophy at Oxford University.

Neev’s love of photography brought her to the other side of the camera lens, and to exotic locations around the globe. Working on assignment with famous photographer Roger Andrew, she often trekked deep into the jungle in search of rare flowers.

Having a young, beautiful woman as a partner seemed like a good omen, and Roger thought their travels together could lead to a unique discovery. In spite of the age difference, their shared passion soon blossomed into a loving relationship. He wondered why someone so young would crave this nomadic, isolated lifestyle. Although Neev did share bits of information about her family, she always kept parts of her past a secret.

When a Ghost Orchid began to bloom at the Audubon Society sanctuary, Roger knew this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Neev was reluctant to visit Florida, for personal reasons, but he convinced her to accompany him on the trip.

After a series of odd coincidences, they soon discovered this sensuous flower wasn’t just rare and beautiful, it also had a strange, mystical power…

_________________

"All I know is in this moment."

www.dkchristi.comwww.authorsden.com/dkchristi

Ghost Orchid Love,lies & redemption;a mystery unfolds.

Arirang: The Bamboo Connection High adventure laced with love.

The World Outside The Window Anthology "Rose's Question"

Romance of My Dreams Anthology "The Ice Storm" & "The View From the Balcony"

Amazon Shorts - "Author to Watch" - eight short stories

What's in a Cover?

Sat, 12 Sep 2009 16:31:00 -0400

September 12, 2009, 1:25 pm

What's in a Cover? I thought when Arirang: The Bamboo Connection was published it had the most beautiful cover I could imagine for the story. The romance of Greek mythology figures throughout the novel, and the Parthenon on the bright red cover, two gold bamboo rings representing the unrequited love , and the deep red of the Orient combine to intrigue the reader to delve into a story of international travel set in exotic, foreign locations. The gold rings are the beginning and the end. It's all right there, on the cover. At least, it's there once you read the novel, all 500 pages of action, agony and ecstasy.

Amazon Shorts did a great job of quick covers for the short stories they posted at Amazon.com. Each cover, though extremely simplistic, gave a glimse of the short story found inside the digital reads. With a couple exceptions (they became busier than the number of staff involved), each cover was unique.

L & L Dreamspell covers on the Romance of My Dreams anthologies call the reader inside. RJB's windowpane on The World Outside the Window gives clues to the content of the nineteen stories from every genre inside. All of these covers are good. My short stories fit well between the covers.

This morning, however, the cover for my latest novel, Ghost Orchid, brought me to tears. Ghost Orchid is an immensely personal story to me because of my own obsession with the ghost orchid blooming at Corkscrew Swamp Audubon Sanctuary in the Everglades. For three relentless years, I tracked the blooming of the singular, rare and exotic ghost orchid from its first blooms near and on my birthday in July through its third blooming and demise in September. Each year the blooms were more beautiful and plentiful than previous years, 2009 has been the best yet.

In 2008, the Naples Daily News reporter actually walked with me on the boardwalk to experience my fascination and put my photo and story in the front page of their Neopolitan section among other people equally obsessed. Yes, Susan Orlean wrote about the obsession with ghost orchids in general; but she never saw one. The ghost orchid of Corkscrew Swamp took possession of my soul and wrote its story.

Ghost Orchid, the most recent novel by D. K. Christi is on the verge of release. The beautiful Irish girl Neev and the rare and exotic ghost orchid that weaves its magic through the mystery of Neev's quest grace the cover. A celtic cross blends in the night sky as the tendrils of the ghost orchid embrace one of the stars. The ethereal beauty that flows through the novel is felt in the grace of the cover's painting. This mystery of love, lies and redemption unfolds, one puzzle piece at a time, touched by the spiritual quality of the Everglades and the cycle of life represented there. Of all my covers, this one is my favorite and touched my heart.

Jing a Jing Jing

Sat, 12 Sep 2009 12:58:00 -0400

August 22, 2009, 5:30 am

I found a new toy! I'm caught between writing and playing. Jingproject.com is a free piece of a larger piece of software that allows me to capture anything from my screen into a video. Just like that! Pull down their little sun, park it on my screen, and presto! I have a five minute only video. I can use free stock photography, free stock music, and my own collection of photography, music and video clips. I can add my own video cam shots with a mini-cam and my own or anyone's voice with a mike.

Five minutes is plenty. I am losing sleep, working toward the perfect five minutes. For a very small amount of money, less than a meal in a family restaurant, an upgrade assists with uploading the little magic clips to anywhere on the internet. Of course, it's addictive; and for the true mini clip addict, I believe they have the deluxe version.

I first stumbled on this little gem as a teaching tool, a way to capture pieces of lessons that are repeated ad nauseum and make them available to students at home, at their leisure and any place they access the internet. All the previous software I have attempted was just too involved for me to spend the learning curve time. This one is instant. For authors who might want to make their own book trailers, five minutes and it's done. Well, not five minutes for me. I discovered the software yesterday, and I'm still clicking that sun and seeking perfection. The teacher in me has to share when I find something so inexpensive, useful and fun!

Emeralds

Sun, 30 Aug 2009 19:10:00 -0400

August 29, 2009, 7:06 pm

A great book for the beachThe Gulf was emerald green as far as the eye could see, only turning a cerulean blue in the deeper water approaching the horizon. Sand bars of powder white sand sparkled in the sun. Highway 30A took me through one imaginative beach town to another until I reached Seaside, the setting for filming The Truman Show, a sort of sci fi with Jim Carrey. I found the show equally imaginative in its fascinating setting.

I enjoyed Water Color and Alys, too, with architecture entirely different from Seaside but recently constructed as little villages to attract those seeking homes by the sea with the ambiance of a small town, even if created. In between were nestled little old beach towns, ancient trees hanging with moss, wooden siding weathered from the sea.

However, I walked around Seaside to enjoy its homes with picket fences, white porches and brightly colored wood siding. I also found the town center, a bit less elaborate than in the film; but one store stood out, Sundog Books.

Sundog books is an independent book store with loads of character located in the central square of the town of Seaside, Florida, my little town of the day for walking. It is a bustling store with a great variety of books and gifts, including music upstairs that includes vinyls. The manager said there are current groups who are recording on vinyl and record collections are quite the "in" thing.

She also bought the recently released Romance of My Dreams from me. I had just received my author's package from my publisher that was still in my trunk. She'll order more as she needs them for her "local author's table." She encouraged me to contact her when Ghost Orchid is released soon to set up a book signing. She was absolutely gracious, and the store was candy for the book lover, an accidental find.

So, if you happen to wander along the Emerald Coast on Highway 30A just east of Destin and west of Panama City, please stop in and support this exceptional, independent book store. The independents support us.

My Son's Birthday

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 17:39:00 -0400

August 11, 2009, 2:36 pm

August 11, 1971, my son gave his first cry for life in this world. His skin was alabaster, his surprisingly thick hair, ash blond. Later, his little eyes started to exhibit a brilliant blue. This child, this gift from my Creator, was the full joy of my existence. His little mouth at my breast to nourish his body was an experience akin to no other. The bond between us was one of perfection. His every cry, every smile, every little spurt in growth, was religiously recorded in the baby book. He was poddy trained on schedule, walked and was weaned from the breast at 13 months, and was vigorously healthy. He laughed more than he cried and took a long nap.

We were lucky. Great grampa, in his healthy late 80's, was a willing sitter during those long naps. I started taking a college class nearby, schooling interrupted by motherhood; and great grampa pulled a chair next to the crib where he would still be sitting upon my return, except once. Great grampa came from a generation where mothers cared for children and dads worked. He had never fed, diapered or bathed a new baby. He could, however, sit by the crib. One day I walked in the door and saw my son standing in the crib and great grampa standing also. My son had on a diaper and was standing in a mess of bedding that would have won America's Funniest Video if it wasn't for great grampa's serious and concerned explanation.

"He woke up and his didy was dirty. I couldn't leave it that way. I stripped him naked and held him in one arm while I scooped up the covers and diaper that you'll find in the garage. I ran the spray hose in the kitchen sink on his bottom until it was clean with him just a screaming away because I know the water was too cold as I was so afraid of getting it too hot. I put him back on the plastic mattress crying while I found some bed sheets in your closet and a diaper. I couldn't find any more pins so I got the masking tape from the garage. Once I got that diaper in one place, I sort of piled the sheet, but he refuses to lay down so I'm just standing here talking to him, and he quit crying."

The diaper had dropped into sort of a skirt with the masking tape holding around the waste. My son was thoroughly enjoying his chat with great grampa, jumping up and down in the sheet mess under his feet. I hugged them both and released great grampa to head home for his evening paper, probably grateful to get away. He had thoroughly cleaned my son, but the diaper was a useless disaster; and I changed the sheets to the ones for the crib. I couldn't help but smile the whole time, and my cheerful natured son was having his own giggles. I wondered if he knew that something was out of kilter about that whole diapering and bedding operation.

Birthdays are celebrations of life. I've actually spent very few of my son's birthdays celebrating with him, but I could tell about each one in detail from the pizza parties to the Japanese steak house with a pineapple holding a candle instead of a cake. Birthdays included hotels in foreign lands and ships and sailing yachts and homes abroad with friends from every country and culture. We all celebrated birthdays; we all celebrated life. I have an independent son who now travels on his own so often I seldom see him. I do have wonderful memories, especially today. Perhaps he'll call. I don't have a number to reach him.

D. K. Christi's Ghost Orchid Birthday Gift

Wed, 08 Jul 2009 20:10:00 -0400

Happy Birthday D. K. Christi - Ghost Orchid Gift

5:02 PM PDT, July 8, 2009

Consultant & Author D. K. Christi

The Ghost Orchid of Corkscrew Audubon Sactuary bloomed again this week, just as it has faithfully bloomed for my July birthday for the last two years.I could request no more beautiful gift than this rare orchid, the only one found in this sanctuary, discovered in July 2007.

That was the year I first began my novel, Ghost Orchid, soon to be released by L & L Dreamspell. The mystery of this delicate white orchid that dances high above the Everglades' canopy found its way to my heart and tore out a mystery of its own, a tale of love, lies and redemption that could only be told with the blooming of this rare flower.

Each year those of us obsessed by its rare calling wonder if it will show itself again, and this is the third summer opening of the season's first bloom. If the pattern holds, it will produce eight to ten blooms that will dwindle and die after a great dance in the swamp breeze and then spring forth again with new blooms in August and again in September. The July blooms are the most magnificent; yet the last smaller blooms of September carry their own dignity.

If you haven't looked at a Ghost Orchid, you may have missed a chance to have its mystery touch your heart. Some say that Ghost Orchids are associated with graves; I say it's because they represent the flight of the soul to eternity. See what you think.

Health Spa Heaven

Sun, 28 Jun 2009 18:13:00 -0400

Regency Resort Health Spa, Home Away from Home June 28, 2009 3:00 PM

Consultant and Author, D. K. Christi

Suddenly, I knew the weekend required a special place. I had writing to complete for a short story submission and a novel, The Virgin Odyssey that seems to be coming together in bits and pieces. I threw some casual and work out clothes into a pretty big suitcase, gave mybird food and water for two days, and drove East to where the sun rises in the Atlantic instead of setting in the Gulf.

I could feel the calm settling in as I saw the Hallendale exit and knew that my trip through thunderstorms and an endless Everglades was nearing its end point. The Hallendale water tower was a welcome site as memories flooded my senses. I had not been to the Regency in years; I was grateful that it was still there, an unassuming old, Florida hotel/motel squeezed between highrises on the Atlantic side of Ocean Drive.Its red tile roof still says "old Florida." as well asits two story motel row leading to a three-story hotel on the beach. How they have held out against the rise of high rises is beyond me; but my gratitude is immense. A left turn under the second floor work out room into the driveway is like stepping through a mirror.

Once I parked the car, the rest of the world disappeared along with its cares and distractions, its obligations and its memories. This was a place of pure, unadulterated indulgence in health and well-being. It still is. I hauled in my suitcase to register. I was early. The room was ready. My folder for my brief, weekend stay was also ready. I noted that the doctor and the chef were still the same; the doctor a reknowned person in the field of chiropractic and nutritional health through a vegan diet; the cook a master of taste sensations oozing with healthful vitamins and minerals and no animal products: none.

Check in is such a casual affair. It's just a cut above moving in with Aunt Sally for the weekend. They are just too pleasant and accommodating to be a real hotel. A white board in the lobby announced the day's activities and dining times. A menu also displays the weeks dining masterpieces. To me they are masterpieces because they are so delicious yet so good for health. Nothing on their menu is found in the television adds except for the Saturday morning cartoon characters (vegetables) on public television. The room key is real, the old fashioned kind of key that hangs on hooks and may be left at the desk if a swim is in order.

Swimming. The view out the dining window takes the guest across a tiled courtyard, past a small pool and a deck to the Atlantic in all its calm wonder and storming fury. Dining has three choices, the sun porch, the darker dining room and private tables for silent dining in the lobby area. Most diners sit at the communal tables where people of all ages, generations and ethnic backgrounds meet with one common goal: improve their approach to a healthy life.

Personal backgrounds may be left behind or discussed; but the conversations are in the present for the most part, "Did you take the 7:00 a.m. walk? What did you think of the aerobics instructor? Wasn't that water class fun! Are you going to the health lecture?" Wherever people began, they drift into an easy camaraderie at the table where breakfast is a fruit buffet, lunch is a salad buffet and dinner may be as many as four courses, delivered by wait staff who will turn the kitchen upside down to meet a special need. The daily schedule can be grueling if followed to the letter. However, each person picks and chooses their own pace and fills in with massage or special sessions with doctors and spa services. An excellent weight room provides the opportunity for personalized training. And Friday nights, the good doctor and his friends still play rock and roll and blues to the delight of guests who want to dance a little. During my stay, a young woman guest joined in with a deep, throaty Liza Minelli sound that perfected the evening.

The morning Atlantic was the best, floating in the sea with wispy clouds above and cumulus threatening in the distance. I knew I had arrived even though I live near the Gulf and have even warmer water. What made the difference? The staff at the Regency, without exception, including every service from food to exercise, know how to provide gentle and unobtrusive comfort to each guest. The atmosphere is casual and totally non-threatening. No one is a stranger; no one steps over bounds. Each person with the help of staff seems to find their friends, their dining companions, their daily plan, their rest and their choices for better health naturally.

I have been to other health spas. The buildings were pristine, the help in crisp uniforms, the exercise students were in their workout clothes with their headbands and wrist bands perfectly matched, and we dressed almost formal for dinner with assigned dining partners. The guest rooms were up to date, perfect decor, new fixtures in the marble baths. The whole experience was very expensive, very stiff, and it wasn't for me. I lived on a sailboat three years, traveling from Ft. Lauderdale to Venezuela and back along the islands. I lived in undeveloped countries and sophisticated European nations where accommodations variedand might be considered, "quaint" for their differences from expectations and part of the elan of foreign travel. I would put the Regency in that category. It has its "quaint" elements: furniture that's a little dated, evidence of renovations that cover aging sins but not all of them. Some of the rooms are small with their own air conditioning unit. Some look out on an alley instead of the Atlantic. I was fortunate to enjoy an Atlantic view room. It was a little piece of Heaven itself. No, it's not the Ritz; but it has a price that's affordable and value that's immeasureable.

Summer guests tend to be a different group than those I've encountered in the winter months. Summer guests are often working people with a summer vacation when they can take advantage of the reduced summer rates. Winter guests are often escaping the northern cold and with the higher prices bring a more formal atmosphere, more often bringing their friends with them and staying in their little familiar groups. Winter is still special; the Regency staff is still the same; I just prefer the more casual air of summer and the warm Atlantic. Aunt Sally's house was like the Regency. Itwas an older homebut tidy and special because no one could make you feel as welcome as Aunt Sally. That's how I feel about the Regency House Resort and Spa. For me, returning after many years was like going home. A few pieces of furniture changed, but enough remained the same, includingseveralwonder members of the staff,for a perfect weekend to regenerate my promises to myself for healthier living. I made a few new friends, too.

About the writing; well, there's tonight.

Communication 101 from Amazon.com

Sat, 25 Apr 2009 11:07:00 -0400

Communication 101

by D. K. Christi at 8:03 AM PDT, April 25, 2009

A Walk on the Beach The World Outside the Window Arirang: The Bamboo Connection Consultant and Author, D. K. Christi

I have joined so many forums and social marketing venues that I need a spreadsheet for my ID's and passwords. I also need one to keep track of the many places on the Internet where I should be posting. At the same time, I need to learn about the quirks and idiosyncracies of each site. In fact, if I was thorough in this new way of communication, I would have no time for the true core of my existence: writing novels and short stories.

Internet communication has become worldwide, cross-generational and universal in its appeal. Forums, the posting communication areas long before Twitter, are a study in themselves. How people can become so heated with each other over simple disagreements and end friendships that have never known a tear or a handshake in person escapes me. I have seen entire forums fall apart because of a conflict among members who never spent a minute over a cup of coffee yet feel they are well enough acquainted to make accusations and insinuations about every modicum of personality and character in their adversary. They even stoop to expletives and representations of words unspoken for their graphic, heinous meanings.

I propose that we step back for a minute and remember that we are flesh and blood with heart and soul, human beings with needs and desires to be understood, to be accepted, and to be loved. The world is already a cultural hot bed of disagreements and international strife, hatred, medical woes and poverty. If our comments on forums are so harsh that we create distress with people we have never met or broken bread with, why do we post there? Is it our desire to let out the beast?

Let's remember the power of words, especially words that lack the forgiveness of eye contact, body language and a common personal experience. Hold back on stereotypes, words that are known for their flash points, generalizations and accusations. Instead, choose words that create an opening for harmony, a stage for understanding, a search for meaning in an uncertain world. Let's apply the golden rule to Internet communications and use our words as carefully as we would like to see communications sent in our own direction. Don't post the spiteful pictures on the My Space sites and describe in hateful detail the horrid inflictor of grief in a relationship breakup. Instead, move on. Post the future hopes and dreams, the pictures of the open doors and the new horizons.

The moment words are seen or heard, they create an emotional response. My motto is, "All I know is in this moment," and I'd rather it be a moment of curiosity and understanding, woudn't you?

Coming soon: Ghost Orchid and Romance of My Dreams anthologies I and II