The Far Side of the Ocean

Moving On

2010-04-16T08:41:00.000-07:00

If anyone takes a peek in here, just wanted to let you know I have moved over to a new blog: Behind the Mystery.

It's focused more on the writing side of my life, but that's not excised from, you know, life itself. Thanks for reading!

What One Person Can Do

2009-12-31T10:11:00.000-08:00

I grew up in a family of storytellers. My mother, who has a knack for making friends with just about everyone she meets, and my father, who spent 25 years in the Navy, provided plenty of material. Ideas, characters, and plots rattled around in my head.

I enjoyed English classes, and I wrote short stories. Then I graduated and stopped writing for the sheer enjoyment of it. Over my adult career my writing consisted of news items, press releases, some magazine articles, and more marketing collateral than I ever thought possible.

Sometimes I would start a story but it they were horrible, and I gave up. By that point I didn’t know how to write creatively anymore. It was a part of me that had grown rusty from disuse.

Then, in 2004, my brother moved in with me.

He thought it was ridiculous that I wasn’t writing. Of course I should be writing, and I should be writing what I wanted to write. He encouraged me to do NaNoWriMo – National Novel Writing Month. He gave me Stephen King’s On Writing. If someone called me while I was writing he told him or her I wasn’t available to talk. He honored the space I had to carve out of life to write. He never, not once, made me feel that the time I devoted to writing was wasted. He always encouraged. He still does.

I’m on my third manuscript now. The first two were cruddy, but that’s okay. It took me a while to figure out what I was doing and what I wanted to write. This one, though, might have a chance of seeing the light of day. But I wouldn’t have thought it was possible if it weren’t for him.

So today, on his birthday, I just want to say thanks for believing. It’s made a huge difference in my life.

Favorite Finds of 2009

2009-12-29T20:31:00.000-08:00

In homage to every other list on the Web that presents the best of the year or decade, I offer my own favorites of 2009. There is no particular order of importance; it's just a melting pot of things I liked.

1. Dr. Who

Hats off to David Tennant, who got me through an awful case of H1N1. A special shout out to Netflix for bringing this great series into my home.

2. 500 Days of Summer

I didn't know what to expect when I walked into the theater. I laughed, I related, and I still remember it. The characters were spot on, and any film that manages to get The Smiths, The Pixies, and Hall and Oates in it is worth a look.

3. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society
I'll make a confession. I do not like a lot of "Women's Fiction" books. My tastes run towards mysteries. But this well-crafted book spotlights intriguing characters on the island of Guernsey in the Channel during German occupation. I stayed up late to finish it.

4. Beth Moore's Esther: It's Tough Being a Woman
Our ladies class completed this study about the book of Esther this winter, and I cannot recommend it enough. It's deep, sound, intriguing, and soul-searching. The videos are great, and it was such a revelation to walk away and realize that my struggles as a woman are not mine alone. I loved getting so deep into a book of the Bible where God "is not in it, but He's all over it."

5. As Time Goes By

Another Netflix find. I kept coming back to this gentle British comedy when I needed to blow off steam and completely de-stress. Judi Dench and Geoffrey Palmer used to be in love before he was sent off to war and, through a letter gone awry, lost touch. They meet again 38 years later. It's witty and well-written with great performances. I recommend with a hot cup of tea.

6. CakeWrecks
If you want a laugh, go here. This blog of professional cakes that go horribly, hilariously wrong was one of my favorite Web finds this year. Personal favorites include the UK Wildcats logo mishap and wedding cakes gone wrong.

7. Charles Finch, author
In particular, I have enjoyed A Beautiful Blue Death and The September Society. Classic British* mysteries with plots I could not puzzle out. Kept me guessing until the end.

8. Intuitive Eating by Evelyn Tribole and Elise Resch
Weight Watchers, Weigh Down, South Beach, Spark Diets, SlimFast, eDiets, Thin Within ... this list could go on for a while. I've done the diet treadmill over and over. For my birthday this year I resolved to get healthier. I used the money I was about to throw towards Jenny Craig and signed up for sessions with a nutritional counselor. This is the book we've been working through. If you are miserably contemplating yet another diet scheme, get this book and read it first.

9. Elizabeth Gilbert's TED Conference talk
Are you a creative? Writer. Artist. Designer. Musician. Doesn't matter. Elizabeth presents a different way to look at creative genius and this inspiring talk will give you hope and encouragement about your talent.

10. Women of Hope Conference
This conference, put on by Healing Hands International, gave me a huge helping of good spiritual food. Held in Nashville, I attended the first one they had last year and came away so uplifted. The next one is January 23, is only $30 if you register before December 31, and honors a woman my church has helped in missions for many years. I'm so privileged to have access to events like this. If you are in town, go. You won't regret it.

*Suddenly occurred to me that quite a few things on this list are British. I make no apologies. :)

In the Swamp

2009-08-02T16:58:00.001-07:00

So I spent most of this past week in Gainesville, Florida, at the Anhinga Writers' Conference. I have returned completely exhausted with too many thoughts running around in my head. I opted for the mystery writer's track but after a while decided to just hop around and take classes based more on the topic and the feedback I got from other attendees as to dynamic, helpful speakers. Here are some of my notes for the week:

1. I am not a 3:30 a.m. kind of gal. Due to a fluke my departing flight to Florida got moved to much, much earlier than I would like. On the other hand, I was amazed at how busy the airport was at 4:30 a.m. - the lines were so long I barely made it on the plane.

2. The human brain (or mine, anyway) can only take in so much information. After sitting through panels and classes from 8 a.m. to sometimes 9:30 p.m. I hit overload. I couldn't do it all.

3. I got to meet Charlaine Harris, creator of the Sookie Stackhouse mysteries that HBO's True Blood series is based on. I'm not a huge fan of that series, but I do like her Aurora Teagarden series. She was very encouraging. In a line with perhaps a 100 people behind me waiting for her to sign books, she took the time to ask me what I was working on and told me not to give up. She also attended several of the classes I was in. It was a great lesson to see that even when you are at the top of your game you need to be open to learning something.

4. Apparently if you wanted to get cereal in the morning you had to do so by covert stealth that involved charming a specific waiter. Otherwise, you were left with the tiny muffins (which I was allergic to).

5. It rained every day I was there. Big, dripping, downpours. And then the sun would pop out like clockwork. As a side note, Spanish moss just gives a place some kind of atmosphere, doesn't it?

6. As I don't have anything beyond basic cable, I was excited about the chance to enjoy a vast plethora of channels in my hotel room. Of course, I was never in the room, but when I did have the rare occasion I discovered ... Pierce Brosnan singing in Momma Mia. It seemed to be on every time I turned on the TV. I came back to Nashville with Waterloo stuck in my head.

7. I never really crossed paths with those on the Poet track. They seemed to stick to themselves and had an artistic air about them I really couldn't quite put my finger on.

8. At the session and signing that Charlaine did, I got a tiny taste of just how fiercesome vampire fans can be. Some were obviously quite passionate about what was happening to the story line. There was one woman there who kept carrying around a very strange, somewhat creepy doll - it was a little man who perched on her arm. I was irrationally fascinated by it.

9. I had quite the cab ride going to the airport - I think the driver had hair that was bigger than mine - and that is saying something in that swampy humidity. The first sign I saw in the cab was the sticker that said, "Each Puke $100." He never left the cab to help my with my bag, just popped the trunk and told me to shove it in among the spare tire and some other junk back there.

10. Apparently Hamish missed me quite a bit while I was gone. I'm shocked. I didn't think he would even notice I was away (in this respect he is very much like a cat; mostly, he acts like a puppy). But right now he is conked out on the end of my bed, dreamily twitching.

11. I sat through an interesting law enforcement panel that included a police detective, a CSI, an FBI agent, and an attorney general. When I asked them if there were any misconceptions that they run across as to why people commit murder (in reference to books and TV getting it wrong), they just kind of laughed and then the detective leaned forward and said, "Sex and money." That was it. Another woman asked what they thought of amateur sleuths. The reply was, "Keep it in fiction." I'm not quite sure I gleaned a lot of technical knowledge from the panel, but I did come away with a healthy respect for law enforcement. They go through a lot.

12. I really enjoyed meeting the delightful Rhys Bowen and attending her classes. I like her Evan Evans and Her Royal Spyness series. She gave some good, concrete aids regarding structure and her exercises helped me spot some problem areas I've wrestled with. And it was nice to hear an accent from across the Pond again.

Overall, it was an intensive few days, and I met some lovely people. But now ... I could really use a vacation.

Goodness, it has been a while

2008-06-19T10:14:00.000-07:00

With a tip of the hat to Becky, I am picking up her meme to get some of my writing juices flowing…

What was I doing 10 years ago?

Hmm. 1998. I had just started work as a communication coordinator for a software training company. I had finished working at Gospel Advocate, where, at that time, when we wanted to send an e-mail I had to write it out on a piece of paper and walk it over to our IT guy. He would then send it out from the one account we had in the building. That job obviously didn’t feature Internet capabilities.

I shared a three bedroom townhouse with Christy and Cheri and every weekend was full of out-of-town trips, in-town guests, movies, eating out, hearing live music in little coffee shops, singles group get togethers, and so on. Looking back, I’m relieved now that I don’t feel that pressure to have to schedule every minute of the weekend and weeknights with social activity.

List 5 things you had to do today.

Drink my breakfast shake.
Make sure the phone bill got paid.
Make sure the cleaners got paid.
Meet with co-workers about some web concepts.
Start the day with a prayer.

Snacks I enjoy:

I am constant and loyal to my Nacho Cheese flavored Doritos with Lays Jalepeno Cheddar cheese dip. It’s very cheesy, but don’t knock it til you’ve tried it.

If I were a millionaire:

I would be completely debt-free and make sure my family was provided for. Then I would invest a chunk of it for the future, set up a fund for missionaries, and get out there and travel, travel, travel….

Places I’ve lived:

In chronological order-

Enid, Oklahoma

Norfolk, Virginia,

San Diego, California

Atsugi, Japan

(back to San Diego)

Searcy, Arkansas

Nashville, Tennessee

Peterhead, Scotland

(back to Nashville, where I currently reside)

I tag everyone who wants something to write about today. Just tag me so I can read yours.

Down the Up Staircase

2008-06-03T06:01:00.000-07:00

Last week I missed the top step at work and fell down the stairs. I’m not sure why I missed it. The next thing I knew I was falling and saw the concrete rushing up at me. I remember thinking that I didn’t want to hit my face. Then I landed kind of weird about eight steps down on my knees and side and left wrist.

After getting picked up by concerned co-workers and assuring them I was okay I drove home. By the time I hit Bellevue I couldn’t use my left hand. I was really starting to hurt, and when I finally hobbled in the door I was in tears.

Younger Bro was great. He assessed the damage, packed up his backpack for a long wait in the ER, and took me to the hospital.

The wait in the admission area wasn’t bad, but then they took me back to the examining room and just kind of left me there for about an hour and a half. There was absolutely nothing in the little room to read. I hurt too much to investigate any of the cabinets, and there weren’t even any medical charts on the wall. Just me and four walls.

So I lay there and prayed and thought about how ridiculous it was that it took all of this for me to give God my complete, undivided attention. Not the prayers on my way to work or before I fall asleep or in the busyness of the day, but just time to talk to God and go before Him to offer specific people and situations to Him.

I turned out to be okay with a contused thumb and a lot of bumps and bruises, but it was a painful lesson in learning, once again, how much I need to continually make God the center of my life.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.” – Phil. 4:6-7

50 Odd Things

2008-05-19T08:20:00.000-07:00

1. Do you like blue cheese? No

2. Have you ever smoked heroin? Good grief, no.

3. Do you own a gun? Nope.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic? I’m allergic to most of the flavors, sadly.

5. Do you get nervous before Dr. appts? Absolutely.

6. What do you think of hot dogs? I’ve not devoted much thought to hot dogs.

7. Favorite Christmas song? O Holy Night

8. What do you prefer to drink in the morning? Coffee

9. Can you do push ups? Perhaps a couple. If forced.

8. What do you order at Starbucks? Skinny vanilla latte

11. What's your favorite piece of jewelry? The Mackintosh jewelry the church gave me in Scotland as a going away present.

12. Favorite hobby? Reading

11. How do you eat your eggs? Scrambled dry

14. Do you have A.D.D.? No

15. What’s one trait that you hate about yourself? There are things I dislike, but I don’t hate them.

16. Middle name? Michelle – after the Beatle’s song…

17. Name 3 thoughts at this exact moment. I want a bagel. I’m hungry. I want a bagel.

18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday? Gas. Doritos. Gum.

19. Three drinks you regularly drink? Snapple Diet Green Tea, A & W Diet Root Beer, water

20. Current worry right now? Actually rather peaceful at the moment.

21. Current hate right now? That tunic/legging look.

22. Favorite place to be? On a boat in the water… ;-)

23. How did you bring in the New Years? Ah, that was not a fun night this year.

24. Where would you like to go? No way I could begin to name where I want to go, but I’m headed to Australia in August!

25. Name three people who will complete this. n/a

26. Do you own slippers? Huh? House shoes? I’ve got a pair of those.

27. What shirt are you wearing? Green with a sort of leafy motif.

28. Do you like sleeping on satin sheets? No – they get really hot and don’t breathe.

29. Can you whistle? Barely.

30. Favorite colors? Green.

31. Would you be a pirate? Who wouldn’t want to be a pirate?

32. What songs do you sing in the shower? I am a human iPod Shuffle in the shower; it could be anything.

33. Favorite girl's name? Anne.

34. Favorite boy's name? Joshua

35. What's in your pocket right now? Lint.

36. Last thing that made you laugh? Probably something said in the production meeting this morning.

37. Best bed sheets as a child? Holly Hobbie

38. Worst injury you've ever had? Broken finger from football. Hurt worse than breaking both my ankles.

39. Do you love where you live? I love my house.

40. How many TV’s do you have? One

41. Who is your loudest friend? I’m not answering this one…

42. How many dogs do you have? One - Hamish. He may look like a cat, but he’s really a puppy inside.

43. What are you thrilled about right now? There are bagels in the kitchen…

44. Do you have a crush on someone? Oh, yes.

45. What is your favorite book? Practically impossible to answer this one.

46. What is your favorite candy? Cadbury Caramel Milk Chocolate.

47. Favorite Sports Team? Nope.

48. What song do you want played at your funeral? This World is Not My Home

49. What were you doing 12 AM last night? Completely conked out

50. What was the first thing you thought of when you woke up? I hope Younger Bro doesn’t use all the hot water…

Moving On

2008-05-09T07:21:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday night Dennis, my Grandma Sugar’s husband, passed away. He was recently diagnosed with congestive heart failure and that, on top of his severe diabetes, was just too much for him.

Dennis entered our family in a rather non-traditional way – a few years ago, he and my Grandmother eloped. After the shock waves died down, he slowly came to be a part of us. He was a fierce bargain hunter and avid collector of all kinds of things. It was rare to walk out of his home without some treasure he thought might be useful to you – a tiny lantern, a spatula that could flip meat more effectively, and sometimes even furniture. He didn’t have much, but he was an incredibly generous man with what he had.

Last Thursday, he put on Christ in baptism, and this week he was welcomed into the kingdom of God – whole, pain-free, and at peace.

“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who, by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control, will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body.” – Philippians 3:20-21

Target Tales

2008-04-24T12:28:00.000-07:00

Scene: In an aisle at Target. Nashville, Tennessee. Approx. 1:41 p.m.

Lady: Excuse me, where are the nightgowns?

Me: Umm, I'm not sure. Maybe with the other pajamas?

Lady: You don't know?

Me: Sorry, no.

Lady (finally noticing my purse and shopping cart): Oh! I'm sorry, you don't work here, do you?

Me: No, I don't.

Lady: It's just that you are wearing a red top and khaki pants.

Me (looking down): Why, you're right, I am.

Lady: That's what their employees wear.

Me: Yes, they do.

Lady: That's why I asked you for help.

Me: Sorry about that.

Lady: It's okay. But you are very confusing.*

Me: ...

*I think she meant my outfit was confusing her, but it's possible that I'm just flat out confusing.

7 Random Things

2008-04-22T11:12:00.000-07:00

So Nikki tagged me for seven random things about myself. The problem with this is that I’m never quite sure what I’ve already revealed on this blog in the past, so with apologies for any redundancies, here we go:

I can’t sleep with any light in the room. I will flip the blinds to the “up” position to counteract this. I’ve been known to put blankets under hotel door cracks to block the hall lights, shove glowing clock faces against the wall, and once persuaded a friend to put band-aids over a particularly bright smoke detector.
As a child, I hated long nightgowns. They would get all tangled around my legs at night and I would feel trapped. Still avoid them.
I want to do the Wild Cave Tour at Mammoth some day.
My last two weekends have been pretty terrific.
I’m going to Australia for a two-week mission trip in September and can hardly wait.
I have a hard time hanging things on my wall. This is probably due to moving more than 30 times throughout my life. I just have a feeling if I put something up there I am going to move soon. I’m a UCD – Under Confident Decorator.
Not random, but … I serve a totally awesome God.

Flotsam and Jetsam

2008-04-08T12:44:00.000-07:00

1. Has anyone else noticed that all the spring tops out right now look like maternity wear? While I suppose it is better than the shrink-wrapped t-shirts of last season, I am not pregnant and do not care to look like I am.

2. About to head into the 3rd draft of The Manuscript. Yep, it's still with me. I took an almost month long hiatus from it to gain perspective after the 2nd draft. In the meantime, I wrote a creepy short story (just to see if I could) that disturbed my Mother and opened a whole can of worms ... "You don't have friends like this, do you? Are you okay? Do you have dreams like this? I'm worried about you."

3. Car noise getting louder. Trying to hold out until parents arrive so they can take car to shop and drive me to work. Won't they have a fun vacation!

4. Lean Cusine's Chicken Pesto pita sandwich does not taste nearly as good as it looks on the little box.

5. There are cigarette butts constantly appearing outside my patio gate. I don't know where they come from. My neighbor doesn't either. Perhaps Hamish is sneaking a few puffs after we've gone to bed for the night? Who knows?

6. The carpet still smells bad, and Febreeze can't fix everything.

7. Every year, I tell myself to resist trying on Target swimwear, and every year they reel me in with an ensemble that I think may work ... only to subject me to a horrifying, soul-deadening dressing room experience.

8. Spring sprang rather spontaneously around here.

9. I'm on a break from my tap class until the next semester. They are doing a routine to "Jolly Holiday" from Mary Poppins and I just can't face Van Dyke's dreadful cockney accent every Monday night.

10. Hollywood Video has thwarted me again. First, they don't carry season 4 of Angel. Then, they don't carry season 3 of the X-Files. I'm going to have to give in to Netflix to continue any kind of story arc.

I'm Gonna Sit at the Welcome Table

2008-03-19T08:13:00.000-07:00

This Sunday after church I had lunch with my visitation team. Every month we are given information about any new visitors to our congregation and make it a point to call, visit, or send a card to them. Then we get together and share a meal and talk about our visits with each other. It’s great way to make sure visitors are welcomed and invite them back.

We sat around the dining room table sharing with each other, and before I knew it, we had been there for three hours, talking, laughing, and fellowshipping. It was one of those fine, beautiful little moments in life where you are simply content.

The rich storytelling tradition of the south wove around us, and I felt like a kid again absorbing all the dialogue.

“And she was dancing with a guy and then he let go of her and she slid across the room and under a chair…”

“And when we honeymooned at DisneyWorld they only had two hotels…”

“And I don’t have any curtains on the windows because of the country-living, you know…”

“And I laughed so hard coffee came out of my nose; took forever to stop smelling like Maxwell House…”

“And so he told me he was tired of the ‘Jesus-is-my-boyfriend’ songs and wanted some old hymns…”

I could have sat there for a lot longer, listening and sharing with this group of people made up of different ages and backgrounds, bound together by our commitment to Christ.

One of these days…

Can I Get a Napkin, Please?

2008-03-11T07:39:00.000-07:00

Ever wanted to be part of a spontaneous musical number in a public setting? Sit back and enjoy. Be sure to watch it all the way through.

Curious

2008-03-07T07:28:00.000-08:00

All right, my internet friends. I want to know what is your best advice/tip for weight loss and management. What has worked for you? What has not? Enquiring minds want to know....

And a Super-Cool Robot, As Well

2008-02-22T12:43:00.000-08:00

In 1980, my family was stationed in Japan. All I wanted from our visit was a china doll in a kimono. Younger Bro wanted a robot. We had no idea what we were in for. For example, the fact that our visit was actually a move. We finally returned to the States in 1984. I had plenty of time to get the doll.

Japanese culture is fascinating and complex, and while I have fond memories of climbing Mt. Fuji, visiting the big Buddha, and running around Himeji Castle as a child, it's their games shows that really take me back.

Human Tetris - What's not to love?

Mama

2008-02-15T08:19:00.000-08:00

I had a dream last night that I was the mother of twins. They were only a day old, and one of them told me she would like a bottle and the other one asked for moisturizer because her skin was dry. And I was in a panic because here I was with two babies and no one had thrown me a baby shower, so I pulled out a piece of paper and began making a shopping list for Target. And at the top of my list I wrote "Boppy" because all I could think of was that feeding a baby makes my arms tired and I would need that special curvy pillow thing to help out. And then I wrote "Nivea Moisturizer" on the list and woke up.

And I know this is because last night I cut through the baby department in Target on my way to check out the books and started admiring the Carter's One Year Old Line.

Maybe I need to alter my route and cut through the shoe department next time.

Ocean Floor

2008-02-14T07:09:00.000-08:00

I love the lyrics to this song and the meaning behind the words.

It's a great reminder of a truly incredible love.

The mistakes I've made
That caused pain
I could have done without
All my selfish thought
All my pride
The things I hide
You have forgot about
They're all behind you
They'll never find you
They're on the ocean floor
Your sins are forgotten
They're on the bottom
Of the ocean floor
My misdeeds
All my greed
All the things that haunt me now
They're not a pretty sight to see
But they're wiped away
By a mighty, mighty wave
A mighty, mighty wave
Your sins are erased
And they are no more
They're out on the ocean floor
Take them away
To return no more
Take them away
To the ocean floor

Held in His Arms

2008-02-05T08:32:00.001-08:00

There are a lot of hurting people in my world right now who are dealing with loss, illness, and unexpected shifts in life situations. This verse is for them:

"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;

he delivers them from all their troubles.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted

and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

-Psalm 34:17-18

Wears High Heels When She Exercises...

2008-02-01T10:13:00.000-08:00

Last night at the Y I had the whole Women’s Only Center to myself because someone told Nashville there might be frozen precipitation. I like the WOC because a) it’s not as intimidating as the wellness center, and b) I can almost always get on my favorite machine.

As I was halfway into my workout, rocking out to some old Everclear, a rather interesting woman came in. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to mock anyone who is taking an active interest in her health and making the Herculean effort to get into the gym. But she was dressed rather … odd.

She came in with a fur coat that she did not take off for quite a while. When she finally did, she revealed a skintight black one-piece unitard. And not that I would recommend that kind of outfit for anyone, really, but she wasn’t exactly pulling it off, if you catch my drift. She wasn’t large, just not quite up to skintight Spandex. I wasn’t entirely sure it was supposed to be exercise gear. She also had on black high heels. I guess that was what really threw me. I've seen all kinds of outfits at the gym, even folks working out in loafers (I guess they forgot their tennis shoes), but never heels.

In this ensemble she slapped on weight gloves and lifted a few free weights for about five minutes - this was when she still had the fur coat on.

Then she sort of played around on all of the equipment. A couple arm lifts here, a few squats there. As we were the only two people in the whole room, it was hard not to watch her progress. She discovered the weighted balls and laid down on her back, positioned one between her high-heeled feet, and attempted to lift it over her head. The ball flew across the room. Instead of getting that one, she just grabbed another. Same result. She went through about five balls, firing them off like a catapult across the room. Finally she gave up on that and started working the circuit, still in heels.

She was still there when I left and if it would have been appropriate I would have thanked her for making my workout go so quickly. Seriously, you can’t make these things up.

AIC

2008-01-29T13:31:00.000-08:00

So Monday nights are what I call my Adventures in Cooking nights because it’s the only night of the week where I come straight home after work. Resisting the temptation to stop at one of the 300 fast food restaurants on the drive home isn’t easy because I’m quite ravenous at that point in the day. Sometimes it’s all I can do to not to rummage around in the glove box and start munching on my car registration papers.

But I digress.

Last night I decided to try to make this:

Looks tasty, huh? That is Broiled Steak Sandwiches with Balsamic Vegetables.

However, I forgot I’ve never really had much experience with the “broil” setting, so a phone call to Mom was in order.

Me: I’m trying to cook dinner.
Mom: That’s great! Good for you!
Me: It requires me to broil steak and I wanted to ask if I’m supposed to leave the oven door open when I’m broiling.
Mom (sounding concerned): No. Some people might leave it open a crack, but not the whole door open.
Me (sound of oven door being hastily closed): Oh, sure. Sure. I was just, um, checking.
Mom: But you do have the steak in a broiler pan, right? So the juices can drip down?
Me: The recipe just said to put it in a foil-lined baking dish. I don’t … have a broiler pan.
Mom: Okay, so it’s in a dish. Okay. Good.
Me: It smells great; I’m just going to turn it right now.
(Sound of crash, yelling, and abrupt disconnection of phone. Mom calls back.)
Me: I burned my knuckle! Call you back!
(Disconnect phone again. Call back 20 minutes later.)
Me: Sorry, I burned my knuckle on the heating element.
Mom: I’m sorry, hon. You okay?
Me: Yes. It hurts.
Mom: Don’t let this put you off cooking, though. You’ll learn. Of course, if you had paid attention when I tried to teach you when you were younger….
Me: Don’t go there.

The result?
I had a steak. That’s it. I was so hungry by the time the meat was done I decided to forgo the rest of my sandwich. It would take too long to make.

My goal next week is to get past the first ingredient.

Not for the Faint of Heart

2008-01-23T13:27:00.000-08:00

Well, who knew that removing cat urine from carpet would elicit such helpful responses? Certainly not myself. Many thanks for all of the suggestions. I finally broke down on Saturday and purchased a black light for the express purpose of detecting any unknown spots.

Boy was that illuminating. (No pun intended.)

The box the light came in had a handy legend so you could also identify any other, um, materials. It also gave other possible uses (so you would feel better about your purchase, I suppose), one of which encouraged you to take it along when you travel so you could check out your hotel room.

I saw that special on TV already, so I know that’s the last thing I want to do when I check into the Motel 8.

Anyway, I waited until dark and turned the light on. I had fun at first waving it around, checking out the brightness of my socks and the watermark in my stationery paper. Finally, consulting my handy guide, I started going over the carpet in the office. And now I know why I couldn’t get the odor out of that room.

Because Hamish did not merely confine himself to one corner as I had previously thought. It wasn’t just the carpet that was victimized. Cardboard boxes and plastic bags fell before his onslaught.

On the upside, it looks like Kids N Pets did not let me down. On the downside, I’ve got a lot more cleaning to do. And when I’m done, I’ll still have this handy light for, well, what else can I use this light for? I’ve come up with a few ideas:

1. I can check the progress that Crest Whitestrips make over time in order to not appear as Ross on Friends.
2. I can investigate dollar bills for counterfeiting.
3. I can hold my own personal rave party. Granted, we don’t abuse any substances at our house (except maybe Doritos and root beer), so it may be a rather tame rave, but we can blow whistles and jump around all the same. (Tangent thought: How many Weight Watchers exercise points do you think you could accrue by jumping around?)
4. I can get into fluorescent wall art.
5. I can mesmerize the cats.

Any other suggestions?

Friday’s Blender

2008-01-18T08:15:00.000-08:00

1. I was so tired last night I forgot to take my contacts out before falling asleep. I never sleep in my contacts (bad for your eyes, no matter what they say). It was a novel experience to wake up and see. I didn’t even stumble on the way to the shower.

2. Continuing the tiredness theme, I forgot to put conditioner in my hair this morning. At the moment, it’s having a party up there, twisting and turning uninhibited, springing free of every attempt to restrain it. I think I’m just going to order it some pizza and give up.

3. Ha! Finished the second draft of the novel. As this was a near-complete rewrite of the first draft, I feel as though I’ve written two books this year. I just joined a critique group, which is exciting.

4. Completely random: In a recent poll of co-workers, we discovered that two of us have dreamed about the second coming of Christ while four of us have not.

5. Our tap class has a new teacher – a man (!)– who apparently thought we were capable of greater feats than we had ever attempted before. I did manage to throw down on my Maxie Ford’s, though not quite at the level of this gal.

6. What really killed me, however, was doing these across the floor for most of Monday night.
This requires muscles I didn’t know I had. I’m aware of them now.

7. I’ve noticed a lot of my long sleeved t-shirts are noticeably short in the arms. Sitting here, typing this, I’ve got a good couple inches of wrist bone sticking out. This only became apparent when the temperature dropped so low that exposed skin began freezing.

8. Any suggestions for getting cat urine out of carpet? I’ve tried: Resolve, Nature’s Miracle, Kids N Pets, and Borax. I’m about at my wits end. I’ve read that if you use a black light you can pinpoint all the places your pet has, um, doused. I’m almost afraid to do that, however. What if it turns into some sort of CSI tableau? You know, they turn out the lights, put the special black light on, and a massacre scene reveals itself? Hmmm.

On that happy thought, I hope you have a great weekend!

Beyond Humanity

2008-01-07T07:12:00.000-08:00

I lift up my eyes to the hills —
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip —
He who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you —
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm —
He will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.
--Psalm 121

For 2008 my resolve is to remember WHOM I belong to and WHO watches over me. I want to rest in His will, taking only paths that are secure and firm and strongly guided and directed by Him. And the only way to be sure that I am on that right path is to dig deep in God’s Word and carefully pray and evaluate if what is before me is aligned with it.

The past year has not been easy, and I do not know what lies ahead, but I cling to the truth of God’s promises and His sovereign hand.

Scattershot

2007-12-14T11:28:00.000-08:00

1. On a freezing Monday afternoon, I found myself on Boylston Street in Boston and happened upon a charming used bookstore. It looked just the way used bookstores are supposed to look – cozy and stuffed and slightly mysterious. It was full of nooks and crannies and, to my delight, had a little section of paperback mysteries. I picked up two British cozies - Malice Poetic by Betty Rowlands and, well, I can’t remember the name of the other one right now. Price? $6.00.

2. My Christmas recital is looming. I attempted to practice in my hotel room (see Boston, above), but my attempts were quickly thwarted due to room size. It was a lovely hotel built in 1925, but people were apparently much smaller back then and did not require space. Or they never intended their rooms to be used as a dance studio, more likely.

3. Ahhh, the novel. I truly wish I had never told a soul about it until I was ready to produce it in a reader-ready format. I appreciate the encouragement — “How’s that novel coming?” but my answer is always the same. Just trust that until I place the manuscript in your hand it is still “in progress.” I do hope to have it ready before my friends’ eyesight fails them in old age. The good news is that this draft will be wrapped up by next Wednesday. Then it will marinate during the Christmas holidays.

4. There’s nothing quite like the possibility of entering a new relationship to make you examine whether you have completely cleaned out your emotional rubbish bin. It’s always surprising to find you’ve got a little residue left over.

5. For the second year in a row, Hamish is sick right around a major holiday. Do you know how hard it is to get a pill down a cat? It requires two people, thick gloves, and split-second timing in our house. On the other hand, my mother (AKA “Mona The Cat Whisperer”) manages to sit down nonchalantly next to the cat, rub his head, and pop the bill in. The cat swallows it immediately and just looks ever so slightly surprised. I have not mastered this skill yet.

Giving Thanks

2007-11-22T10:17:00.000-08:00

For a family who loves me so much.
For a brother who cares enough to encourage.
For friends who make this world a better place to be in.
For a job that challenges, bosses that care, and coworkers I truly enjoy.
For a church that opens its arms.
For a Savior that covers me in His grace and gives me a reason for living.

May you all have a blessed Thanksgiving!

Too Good to Miss

2007-11-07T06:48:00.000-08:00

As a child time is non-linear. It coils around us in abundance, spinning out its threads in endless supply. The concept of tomorrow, next month, next year – they are meaningless to the innocent. All that matters is now.

Then we grow up. Time is finite, measured, pushed on us by schedules, deadlines, and commitments, and made all too real by births and deaths. We know it doesn’t stretch on forever. Everything has a beginning and end. The thread of life doesn’t keep on spinning. It gets snipped at some point.

That’s why what Katrina wrote about the Good News is too important not to know. I fill my life, this blog, and so much else with many words that really don’t matter in the end. What she wrote over there does. I hope you’ll take the time to stop by and read it.

A Continual Loop

2007-10-29T13:08:00.000-07:00

I cannot get this song by Spoon out of my head.

I also can't get "I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance with You" by The Black Kids out of my head either. (There's a lot going on in my head, trust me.) There are parts of this song that remind me so much of the beginning of a New Order song or something... can't quite remember. Probably why I like it.

Recipe for a Great Weekend

2007-10-24T07:35:00.000-07:00

Three best friends.*
One Honda Civic.
Gorgeous weather.
Biggest private home in the U.S.
Mix together and hit the road.

*Note: Must let friendships marinate for more than a decade for weekend to be truly perfect.

The Box of Him

2007-10-19T14:27:00.001-07:00

In a fit of insanity, I decided to participate in my homeowner association’s fall carport sale tomorrow. Forgetting I had dumped two loads of junk at Goodwill the last time I moved, I’ve been rummaging in the depths of our attic to search for saleable items that will yield enough profits to meet my goal of buying a new pair of shoes.

On Tuesday night, sweating under the stark glow of a single light bulb, I started opening the boxes that have been with me since college – the ones I never open but simply move from place to place because someday I’ll have time to sort through and arrange all those memories in some sort of visually pleasing way.

And as I reached into one particular box, I found another, smaller one at the bottom, one that had not been opened since February 1996, which was when my fiancé and I stepped off the train that was leading to marriage and crashed rather spectacularly into the shrubbery alongside the track. I have a vivid memory of walking through my apartment and grabbing everything associated with him – presents, jewelry, photos, letters, and the wedding planning binder – and dumping it all in this box.

Looking at the pictures, I found myself wanting to go back in time to talk to the girl in them. I wanted to tell her it would all be okay, that it really was for the best. I wanted to reach out across the years and give her a huge hug and let her know that there were incredible adventures awaiting her and this was only the beginning of a better plan.

And then I realized it was getting late, I still had to iron my khakis and pack my lunch for tomorrow, and if I moved quickly I might have time to read some more of that book before I needed to get to bed. So I shoved everything back into the box and taped it up and left it in the attic.

I can’t feel the pain anymore from that very dark year, but I need the box to remember the lessons learned.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.” –Jeremiah 28:11-14a

An Unwelcome Guest

2007-10-12T07:35:00.000-07:00

Revising this novel has been like walking through molasses. Keeping momentum is difficult, and when I’m not working quickly I can’t outrun my Inner Critic.* Unfortunately, he has moved in and set up camp.

He is now ensconced in a recliner chair in the corner, booted feet crossed, smoking a pipe. With one lift of a sardonic eyebrow, he shoots me questions and comments.

Who are you to plot an entire novel? I can completely see who did it the first time you introduce that person. Why set it in Scotland? You’re not Scottish. So what makes you think you can write a Scottish character? Your Scottish friends will laugh their heads off. You’re spending a lot of time writing this, and it probably won’t come to anything anyway. I mean, most writers don’t get published until at least their fourth book, if that. Probably best to stick this in the bin.

And so on and forth. He needs a firm eviction notice.

*Inner Critic is not to be confused with Inner Editor, who is a firm but kindly soul.

Seismic Disturbance

2007-10-05T08:21:00.000-07:00

I’ve moved 28 times. I attended four different elementary schools, three different junior highs, and two different high schools. I can accept change. As the daughter of a Navy sailor, I had to.

I can feel changes coming – the ground shifting, the familiar sensitivity that I’m not satisfied with the status quo in my life. It’s a restlessness that bites at me and refuses to leave me in peace. The last time I felt it, I ended up in Scotland doing mission work. This time, though, I don’t think it has anything to do with a change of vocation or location. It’s something in me that’s turning over and over.

I just haven’t figured out what it is yet.

Hoofin' It

2007-09-19T10:24:00.000-07:00

I’m practicing my pick-ups and trying out wings.

I’ve got a new tap teacher this year and she’s definitely picking up the pace in class. To move to a more advanced level I’ve known for a while that I've needed to master pick-ups and wings, among many, many other steps, but for some reason these two have been my continual enemies.

With pick-ups, I have a tendency to fall forwards. Or backwards. My sense of balance is not really fussed on which way to pitch me.

With wings, our teacher cautioned that if we didn’t have strong ankles beginners ran a high risk of breaking them. In my youth I managed to break my right ankle and snap a bone in my left foot, so I’m a little apprehensive about movement that encourages further time in plaster.

Our teacher also revealed some rather ambitious plans for our winter recital this year. Our “costume” for the past few years has consisted of black slacks and a nice Christmas sweater. When we’re feeling really daring, we wear mittens or a Santa hat. (Scarves were tried but rejected after one rather unfortunate practice session. Fighting strangulation while keeping a syncopated beat is hard.)

This year, however, she threw out words like “little skirts,” “hot pants,” and other scary terms that will involve some major YMCA time and a more balanced diet on my part. I’m hopeful she is teasing, but she is a tiny woman who could fit easily into my pocket and perhaps doesn’t not understand the distress those words cause to adult-sized women.

We shall see.

My Eyes! My Eyes!

2007-09-10T11:32:00.000-07:00

On Friday night, for about the third time in my life, I walked out of a movie.* I was looking for a simple Friday night distraction, and the allure of a dark theater with comfy seats and air conditioning seemed about my speed. My Movie Companion (MC) threw out some suggestions and allowed me to pick and, without doing nearly enough research, I picked Shoot Em Up, mainly because I like watching Clive Owen. I thought it would kind of be like Die Hard.

Holy cow, was I wrong. It was filthy. I can’t think of any other word to describe it. It was the kind of movie where, after a few minutes you think it can’t get any worse and then it manages to. What was perhaps more disturbing was the man in front of us who laughed uproariously at every act of violence.

After 10 minutes of alternatively squirming in my seat and covering my eyes MC leaned over and whispered:
“Do you want to see if we can get into another movie?”
“Yes, please.”

So we were able to see 3:10 to Yuma and I got to watch a rather interesting if inconsistent Russell Crowe and a very gritty and emaciated-looking Christian Bale sweat through Arizona. It was quite good, although after walking out of Shoot Em Up, it didn’t have a very high bar to jump.

*Other movies walked out of include Robocop and The Producers.

On 35

2007-09-05T08:19:00.000-07:00

I think I dreaded this birthday for so long that when it finally came it was a bit of a relief. Mentally, I turned 35 around Memorial Day, which is a big lesson to me about being anxious, as I wasted some good months of being 34.

This birthday, though, was much better than last year simply because people remembered. I received cards and, thanks to Facebook, several simple messages wishing me a Happy Birthday from those friends who would otherwise not have known. So I discovered those social networking sites are good for something other than Superpoke and dubious offers of friendship from strangers in Eastern Europe.

On Friday evening I celebrated by having my two best friends spend the night. When I was younger, I used to always celebrate my birthday with a sleepover or slumber party, and I discovered the appeal is still there. Granted, we had to work around a 5-month-old and the presence of the Pack-n-Play in the bedroom stifled some late-night whispering, but you’re never too little to begin learning the ins and outs of slumber party etiquette and Baby Maddie did just fine.

And I think 35 showed me, once again, just how incredibly valuable true friendships are. It doesn’t always come easily. We have to fight for the time we have together now.

But to be able to put down the phone after I have rambled and discoursed and picked apart and revealed my uttermost neurosis to my friend and sigh with relief, “She gets me” – that’s worth every year it took to get here.

A Wealth of Words

2007-08-21T07:06:00.000-07:00

This is a long one, so you may want to wait until you are comfortably curled up with a cup of tea in one hand and your own version of a Willie Ford wrapped around you.

This weekend I had the opportunity to attend Killer Nashville, a mystery writer’s conference in my own backyard.

On Sunday afternoon I was scheduled to pitch to an editor of a publishing house. I had hemmed and hawed about this because my book is still not ready, and I just didn’t feel prepared. But after some gentle prodding by several people at the conference to get it over with for the experience of it, I decided to go for it. I had actually wanted to pitch to the agent that was there but drew the editor instead. That was not great because I already knew their house did not publish the kind of mystery I write (which I have always referred to as a “cozy,” but was informed it is now called a “traditional mystery”).

The problem, however, was that I had submitted the opening of my book to be critiqued at one session by authors Kris and Kelly, sisters who write under the P.J. Parrish pen name (who are New York Times best-selling authors). The end of this session coincided with my pitch time with the editor. So literally right before they got to my submission I had to leave. It was a very frustrating moment.

After the pitch, which was nerve-wracking but pretty much turned out as I expected, I went in search of Kris and Kelly, who happened to be sitting at a table in the lobby. They were very kind and one of them (and I couldn’t tell you which one), sat there and went over my opening with me and spent a considerable amount of time talking about the structure of my book and giving me some extremely valuable advice. She liked my opening, so that was a nice boost. That little talk alone was worth the $114 I paid to attend the conference.

They also did a session about showing vs. telling, which as a writer you know you aren’t supposed to do, but it creeps in anyway. Their talk was full of great examples – both right and wrong.

The guest of honor was Michael Connelly, whose book, Echo Park, happens to be on every bookshelf I see. I enjoyed his talk about the writing life and what happened before things really started taking off. It was also interesting to hear about mistakes he felt he has made, such as when he once wrote 300 pages in the wrong direction with a book he wrote before realizing he had to turn it around. It gave me hope.

And if you are still reading this far and ever hope to submit a manuscript some day, here is a list I compiled from a fabulous session with literary agent Donna Bagdasarian, editor Maryglenn McCombs, and author and reviewer Hallie Ephron. Although this was primarily a mystery writer’s conference, a lot of this information is helpful across genres.

Top Reasons Your Manuscript Will Be Rejected:
1. Profligate use of adverbs.
2. Not knowing grammar, syntax, context, style, etc. Just because you can read doesn’t mean you know how to write.
3. Not following the guidelines given by the editors/agents on their websites regarding submissions.
4. Predictability in the story is death.
5. Bad dialogue.
6. Overpopulation of characters – too many for the reader to keep track of.
7. Too many subplots.
8. The plot does not have a backbone.
9. Don’t know who the story belongs to – this character? Or is it that character? (Most often happens with multiple points of view.)
10. The protagonist does not affect the ending.
11. Lack of touch with reality in publishing. (Specifically they said, “Please don’t say this will be good for Oprah or you know it will be a bestseller.”)
12. Too many killers – not everyone is capable of murder. Make it credible.
13. Supplanting quality for gimmicks. Ex. Second-person novels, yuck factor…
14. Sex/violence scenes that are lurid and gratuitous.
15. A point of view that is out of control. Stay with your characters’ point of view until the scene ends – don’t switch and don’t make your character know or see things that he or she couldn’t possibly know.
16. Inconsistent tense.
17. A zig-zag timeline that makes no sense. Handling flashbacks is tricky.
18. Purple prose – excessive author voice full of tons of adjectives. Metaphor upon metaphor where it no longer sounds like the character is talking – the author breaks the third wall.
19. Too much back story upfront. Weave it in deftly.

They did note that for every point on the list you could find a book in the store that breaks that rule, but for a first time author trying to get noticed you aren’t the exception to the rule. Yet.

Ode to an Air Conditioner*

2007-08-15T07:03:00.001-07:00

I’ll admit that life has been off kilter,
Which explains why I didn’t change your filter.

But just because I didn’t play my part,
Did you have to raise “the cold shoulder” to an art?

I was upset and sad to find you in one frozen block.
Your innards were white, I discovered with shock.

No cool air, no cold air, no kind of air at all,
So I gave my trusty AC guy a call.

But for now the cats sit in their furry summer coats,
And I silently wish I had some kind of boat,
To take me away from my now stuffy home.
Hey – do you think it’s this hot in Rome?

*With many apologies to poets everywhere.

I've Got Nothing Against Robert the Bruce, But...

2007-08-10T08:56:00.000-07:00

If things are a little quiet over here it’s because I’m trying to get ready for a local mystery writer’s conference next weekend. So I’ve been working hard to get my first three chapters up to snuff. You know, to the point where I’m not filled with self-loathing and despair when I look at them.

This has required a lot of writing during lunch and writing while at home and numerous trips to a library that honestly does not hold one book about law enforcement in Scotland but has several about Robert the Bruce. I realize I am probably the only person in Nashville at this moment who is intensely interested in Scottish criminal procedure but come on, not even one book?

Someone asked me the other day, “Are you not finished with your novel yet?”

That flummoxed me. I’m finished with the first draft. But that is the first draft, the draft that is not even worthy to line a bird cage. Now I have to go back and pay attention to voice, characterization, description, tone, style, continuity, pacing, consistency, and so on. Let’s face it – this is going to take a while.

And underneath all of this – of waking up in the middle of the night realizing I broke the wrong arm on my male protagonist because then he won’t be able to drive the car because he can’t shift gears with his arm in a cast and of course the steering wheel is on the other side of the car in Scotland and there are hardly any automatics over there, and realizing that the name I created for my fictional town turns out to actually be a real place in Ireland so that won’t work – is the fundamental fact that I am doing this for fun.

And, frankly, I’m having a blast.

What I’m Happy About Right Now

2007-08-03T08:08:00.000-07:00

1. It’s Friday! I'm wearing jeans!
2. I get to see The Bourne Ultimatum tonight.
3. While standing in line at Walgreens, I picked up that new weight-loss program/drug, alli. On the back of the box it said you might to consider starting the program if your height matched their suggested weight (what they considered overweight). I was very pleased to see that I was considered too small to be on the program. (Hey, it's those little things that keep you going....)
4. I’m almost done reading The Deathly Hallows again. It’s been a bit more of a pleasure this time because I’m not racing through it at 1 a.m. I love noticing all the details that I missed before. And actually understanding how that whole wand thing works.
5. I’m attending a mystery writer’s conference August 17-19 – Killer Nashville. I’m excited because the TBI will be there and have a mock crime scene set up where they take you through the forensics. I have so many questions for these people about my own novel; I’m hoping they can clear up some of the DNA stuff for me. Now, if I can just find someone who knows about the police force in Scotland I will be set. The Nashville Public Library has pitifully few books about this subject.
6. Kellie’s father is cancer free! (This may not mean much to most of you, but it is something to rejoice about in my neck of the woods.)
7. Fall is right around the corner. I love Fall.
8. I’m very pleased with my new dining table from IKEA.
9. I think I’m close to making peace with my upcoming birthday on the 30th. I’ve been dreading it for a while now, but I’ve decided it’s going to happen anyway so I’d best learn to live with it.
10. I have an awesome family and serve an incredible God.
11. Did I mention it was Friday?

The Ninth Circle

2007-07-18T14:21:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure what I ever did to deserve this week - probably didn't floss enough or refill the ice cube tray - but it has resembled Dante's Inferno in all its glory. Okay, that's a bit dramatic. But it hasn't been fun, I can tell you that.

However, there are better days ahead because the new Harry Potter will be in my hot little hands soon. I am instituting an Internet moratorium on any Harry-related articles for fear of anything leaking into my innocent brain. I have re-read the Half-Blood Prince to ensure I am completely up to date on the latest installation. I have reserved a book at Borders and have one ordered through Amazon, just to cover all my bases.

I like to be prepared.

Good Advice

2007-07-05T12:37:00.000-07:00

"I get a lot of letters from people. They say, 'I want to be a writer. What should I do?' I tell them to stop writing to me and get on with it." - Ruth Rendell

Baby in Tow

2007-07-03T12:52:00.001-07:00

So on Friday night I discovered a surefire way to keep all panhandlers, suspicious men, and other unsavory characters away from you on Second Avenue downtown - simply bring along your best friends' baby! That's right, one glimpse of the baby carrier and those about to ask for money begin steering themselves in another direction. The scruffy guys waiting to get into the latest club, or simply hanging around the outside of Hooters for, well, I guess the smell of those famous wings, will shy away to the furtherest corners of the sidewalk and avert their eyes.

It makes for quite a refreshing walk, and hoofing it with the baby carrier and diaper bag gives you a nice little workout, as my friend assured me. Our destination was a free dessert at the Melting Pot - a nice big bowl of melted chocolate - and it did not disappoint. In honor of the occasion, we took a few pics. I know she looks a bit worried in this picture, but Baby Maddie was especially thrilled to come with us.

And we also decided to mix it up a bit...

And much fun was had. Have a great July 4th!

Look Out Stomach, Here It Comes

2007-06-27T09:49:00.000-07:00

Katrina tagged me in a meme to:
1. Name and link to the person who tagged you.
2. Name the state and country where you reside.
3. Name your five favorite local restaurants.
4. Tag others.

So, having dispensed with step one, we move on to the fact that I reside in Nashville, Tennessee, which offers a plethora of dining options. I see fantastical restaurant reviews often but, sadly, am often too poor to partake of their Asian/Southern/Greek/Mediterranean fusion creations. I also do not have a sophisticated palate. Alas, I offer my humble choices:

1. Amerigos on West End. This Italian place serves my favorite meal – Chicken Marguerite. Swimming in a high-carb pool of pasta and scallion cream sauce, with some yummy bread to help sop it all up, is a chicken breast that is always done to perfection. I like to sit by the window and watch all the people go by.

2. The Melting Pot. What is not to love about an entire bowl full of cheese or chocolate? With fun pointy sticks? I’m all there. This place is as much about the work it takes to prepare your food as the gastronomic delight that awaits once you have fondued everything to perfection. It is also the site of my infamous potato-flinging incident. Lesson learned: Never try to force a veggie out of a fondue pot.

3. Sunset Grill. I knew I was in love when the waiter gave me a choice of colored napkins based on the color of my slacks (so the fussy white linen didn’t leave fussy white lint on black) and then afterwards whipped out a little crumb tray to sweep up my mess. For a simple gal from San Diego who was used to eating hamburgers from a beach shack, the staff at the Sunset Grill made me feel like a queen. Bonus: star spotting and desserts.

4. Swetts. This cafeteria-style meat and three in a less than desirable location at first gave me doubts, but one bite of the chocolate pie made me a believer. Go for lunch on Sunday.

5. Cancun’s in Bellevue. It’s hard to admit how many times a week my friends and I frequent this place. But the Mexican food here is good, cheap, and incredibly fast. The wait staff has been around for ages and, if you are a regular like some of my friends, they apparently just put your order in the kitchen when they see you walk in the door. As a real treat, check out the murals on the wall, which feature some of the worst foreshortening and symmetry techniques I’ve ever seen.

And for step 4, I’m tagging Jules.

Dirty Business

2007-06-25T09:02:00.000-07:00

The first draft of my novel has been sitting silently on my flash drive since the end of May. I’ve been carrying it around in my purse, and every time I open it up I see it glinting up at me, reminding me that it exists, it is here, and it has been waiting.

The problem is, I’m afraid to look at it. I started it in November, and at the end of each writing session I wrote a sentence to myself stating where I thought the story should go in the next writing session. This kept me from reading back over my work, which was vital in outpacing my Inner Critic. Because if I had started re-reading it I think I would have given up on the whole enterprise.

But now… now it is time to roll up my sleeves, grab the trowel, the watering can, and the pruning shears, and start tearing this thing apart.

Wish me sunny days.

Llama Spit Washes Out, Doesn't It?

2007-06-14T09:47:00.000-07:00

I’ve been invited to a fancy-pants wedding this weekend on the sniff-sniff side of town, which has been the catalyst for the great dress hunt of 2007. I’ve tried on quite a few in the past weeks, but at the moment I’ve got nada, zero, zilch, nothing.

The great majority of dresses I’ve found fall into a simple pattern formula – thin straps holding up a fitted bodice with a full skirt that reaches down to about my calves. It always looks great on the hanger, but when I try it on I either discover that I appear to have gained a significant amount of weight around my middle or the top gives me a, umm, rather enhanced appearance in an area that didn’t need any enhancing, if you get my drift. The length inconveniently chops me off at the fattest part of my leg, so that doesn’t help matters.

That seems to leave the alternative of the halter dress, in which the top is actually constructed of two triangles. This doesn’t work for me either, for a variety of reasons. That dress would then necessitate the purchase of one of those bras that are supremely versatile, can convert in a 100 different ways and, apparently, are also capable of running the country if given half the chance. They also cost about as much as the dress.

I do have a fallback, however - my old, trusty going-to-weddings dress. It’s been around for a while and hasn’t let me down yet. It’s seen me through vigorous bouts of Celtic country dancing at a wedding in the Lowlands of Scotland and an energetic electric slide in New Bern, North Carolina. It’s also wash and wear, which may be handy as the wedding this weekend will have its reception at a llama farm and llamas spit, don’t they? I just want to be prepared for that unfortunate event, and I don't know if a new dress will be able to handle it. Because if anyone is going to be target of a llama incident, it will probably be me.

But this dress is just that – seen, serviceable, and getting a bit long in the tooth. So I continue my mission. Three days left….

Propping Mountains Up on Matchsticks

2007-06-08T13:39:00.000-07:00

I have avoided commenting about the Mary Winkler case on here because the last time I did that it opened a whopping big can of worms. But I’ve got comment moderation on now so, ergo, control.

For those of you who weren’t reading my blog when I was over at Live Journal, Mary and Matthew were friends of mine when he was our youth minister. This was back when Allie was born and Tricia was about 3. I helped them on youth retreats, went caving and rappelling with Matthew, and played cards late at night with Mary. I remember him as a great big guy who always had a smile on his face. The kids in the youth group called him “Wink.” His girls loved him; Mary loved him. I remember her laughing and riding around on his shoulders at a youth event. I remember Tricia crawling into his lap.

When I first heard what had happened, I didn’t know what to think. I visited Mary in jail, sent her cards of support, and wrote a letter for her probation. I stood there and prayed with her sister and father outside the McNairy County jail and watched while most of the media relied on outdated stereotypes or wrong information about the churches of Christ.

Long before most people knew what the motive was, I was told. And while I was shocked and horrified at the allegations of abuse, I also struggled to make sense of murder as a way out. I am aware of what abuse does to a person – how it lowers your self-esteem to the point where it doesn’t even occur to you to ask for help anymore because you honestly believe no one can.

I was never told about the check-kiting scheme. As details began to emerge, as I watched her lawyers mount a carefully calculated public relations scheme to enhance a sympathetic image, I grew more confused. The slick “Dream Team of the South” pretty much ruled the entire trial and courtroom. The prosecution came across as woefully under prepared for their strategy. There were a lot of questions left unanswered and a lot of angles that weren’t really explored.

I watched because I wanted answers, but I got none. Mostly just an overwhelming sense of sadness for three little girls who lives will never be the same. Matthew was made out to be a monster. Perhaps he was; there is so much that happens in a marriage that the rest of the world never sees. But we’ll never really know the truth. I’m sad for Dan and Diane Winkler and Matthew’s brothers. And I’m sad for Mary as well, because I truly believe she needs a lot of help mentally. When you know the individuals involved in something like this, things tend to go from a very clear black and white to a muddled gray.

There are people in my congregation who think she got off too easily. There are those who are broken-hearted that she has to spend even one night in jail. We don’t talk about it openly, but each person in the pew has an opinion about it. I’m proud of the fact that despite our differences of opinion, we can still get along and respect one another.

She was sentenced today; it looks like she’ll serve about two months. I still don’t know what to make of the situation. I feel like there is a feebleness in my humanity to comprehend the enormity of taking a life, the pain for his family too intense to digest, and a heavy sadness that weighs it all down. I'll keep on praying.

Zoos, Motorcycles, and the B-52s

2007-06-05T09:59:00.000-07:00

Jules over at Pearls and Jules of Wisdom tagged me for eight random or unknown things about myself. In lieu of the fact that I have not had time to blog about my recent family vacation, which included a rather adventuresome canoe trip, I offer you the following trivial tidbits:

1. I am a zoo snob. I grew up as a card-carrying member of the Koala Kids Klub at the San Diego Zoo, and I therefore believed all zoos were like the one in San Diego. Imagine my extreme disappointment and shock when it turned out that zoo was an exception, rather than the rule. To this day I have a hard time visiting other zoos because I feel sorry for the animals.

2. I won an air-band contest my senior year of high school. Some friends and I performed as the B-52s to the song “Dance This Mess Around.” A beehive hairdo, flapper dress, and hula hoop were involved. We advanced to regionals but our road to fame ended there.

3. I like to ride motorcycles with my father. When I was a toddler he strapped my booster seat to the back of his motorcycle and we would go on rides. We tried to rent a Harley last week when he visited and go for a day down the Natchez Trace Parkway, but all the rentals were sold out.

4. My senior prom was at Sea World.

5. I leave loose change everywhere – my dresser, my desk, the coffee table, my closet floor. Worse, some of it is still UK currency, although I haven’t been back in two years. As I write this, there is a 20 pence coin in my pen holder.

6. I refuse to shop at Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon.

7. I actually like Ramen Noodles (Creamy Chicken Flavor). I took a whole case with me to college, much to the chagrin of my roommate who couldn’t stand the smell of them.

8. While I hope this would not be a random nor unknown fact about myself – I am a Christian. I was baptized and became a Christian when I was 14 and love the Lord and my church family. I try to make serving God the most important thing in my life. I also have a passion for mission work and missionaries and am blessed to have friends in Scotland, England, Australia, India, Uganda, and Romania.

All right, Jules – hope you are happy!

Bookish

2007-05-23T06:06:00.000-07:00

I know the blogging has been even less than my usual meager output. I'm sorry. I don't mean to disappoint my handful of readers. I could fill you in on how crazy busy life has been lately, but that is nothing new to anyone. I could tell you how I'm trying to commit to a new fitness routine that has involved major, major walks with Younger Bro over steep mountains and through wooded dales dotted with innocent, Bambi-ish woodland creatures...but I digress.

What have I been up to lately? Well, I've been reading. I'm almost done with Anne Lamont's Bird by Bird. I've stalled out on the end of it, but that is my fault, not hers. It's been one of the few books about writing that I appreciate and enjoy. I am not a non-fiction reader. Life is non-fiction, and there is plenty of it. And most writing books grate and irritate, with formulas and endless questions and, well, they make me feel inadequate. Anne does not make me feel inadequate. Stephen King in On Writing did not make me feel inadequate. So I'm naturally inclined to lean towards them.

I'm also contemplating attending a writers retreat in South Carolina in October. They will have several agents and editors there from some big publishers and you can get your manuscript critiqued and pitch it as well. The workshop classes look intensive and intriguing. And did I mention it is on the beach? In October, but still. I'm the kind of person who should probably see the ocean at least once a year to re-calibrate my equilibrium. (And if you have ever grown up near water, you know what I mean.)

But the retreat is quite a bit for my humble pocketbook, so I am musing and wondering and trying to figure it all out.

And I've also started some research on my book. What? You say. Didn't you just finish the first draft? Yep. But I need to research the technical side of some things, which is why I checked out "Secrets of a Medical Examiner" from the library yesterday. I'm also on a hunt for police procedures in Scotland. So if you know of a source, please comment and let me know.

In other matters, the parents are coming on Friday for a whole glorious week where I am off work. We will watch movies and go to the Renaissance Fair and take a float trip and shop and see historical stuff and swim in the pool and generally eat too much. And we will be happy.

I wish you all the best for a great Memorial Day weekend.

Lightweight

2007-05-14T09:14:00.000-07:00

I finished Amy Tan’s Saving Fishes from Drowning yesterday. I’m not often drawn to books where the setting is in Asia. This one was in Burma, specifically, but the premise intrigued me so much since it included a ghost as a narrator and 11 American tourists who disappear on a lake. I found it an excellent read, engrossing, rich in detail, imagery, and characters, and a fascinating look at a country I honestly never think about. It impressed upon me the need to broaden my reading horizons more. I’m really bad about sticking with one genre and not getting out of it, but I’m denying myself so much.

The problem is I get fed up with books whose “big secret” or “reveal” happens to be a case of incest, abuse, or rape. This happens, for some reason, in a lot of the books I stumble across. I’m not able to handle these horrific stories because my imagination is so vivid they stick with me for days. And I end up worrying about the characters - did they receive proper help and therapy? Were they able to extricate themselves from that situation? And then I realize I've spend a couple days of my life being being concerned about people who don't actually exist.

Now this may seem a complete hypocrisy considering my favorite books are murder mysteries. But I would say my taste runs more to “Murder Light” or the cozy variety than Patricia Cornwell procedurals where I get too much detail, way too much detail, about how a person died and then how the medical coroner performed the autopsy.

At the end of the day, I think I may be a literary lightweight after all.

P.S. Writing this, I realize that there was brutality in the Amy Tan book (Burma is, after all, run by a military regime), but that wasn't really what the entire book hinged on, if that makes sense.

Deliciously Irresponsible

2007-05-07T10:03:00.000-07:00

Vacuum living room: No
Clean bathrooms: No
Tidy home office: No
Clean off dining room table: No
Wash car: No
Grocery shop: No
Bills paid: No
Clean up garden: No

Wallow on sofa with delicious Diet Coke and good mystery book: Yes
See Spiderman 3: Yes
Enjoy Cracker Barrel breakfast with Younger Bro: Yes
Fit into size 8 capris: Yes! (done before aforementioned breakfast ensued, though)
Talk to Mom to discuss Amazing Race finale, men, and life in general: Yes
Talk to Dad to discuss outings for their upcoming visit, the car, and what’s playing at movies: Yes
Sunday nap: Yes
Saturday morning sleep in: Yes

All in all, I’d say it was a productive weekend.

Ow, Ow, Ow, Ow, Ow

2007-05-03T11:25:00.000-07:00

Indulge me, if you will:
You know that feeling where, deep down under the surface, you already know the answer to this particular situation in your life, like .5% of you understands that you are not headed in the right direction - the resolution you are really, really wanting is not going to go your way - but you ignore it and push on anyway and then one night in the middle of a parking lot God manages to finally drop a huge, you-cannot-ignore-this, Wile E. Coyote-style anvil on your head and you come face to face with the fact that yes, indeed, He answered your prayer and No, sorry, it was not the answer you were looking for?

You know that feeling? The one where you are literally gritting your teeth with a fake smile plastered on your face and all you want to do is just get in your car (the new Honda! a little bright spot in this otherwise hideous tableau) and just maybe get on I-40 heading west and keep on going and maybe grab Mom and Dad in Oklahoma on the way to the coast and don't stop until you hit the Pacific Ocean where you spent many, many happy days as a child and because the ocean somehow calms you down and heals you and connects you and puts you back on your little feet again?

But all you can actually do is get in the car and drive home and load the dishwasher and pretend you are stuffing all that hope and disappointment into it and that perhaps, maybe, just maybe, you can just push a button and your self would come out all clean and fresh and shiny?

Because how to describe that feeling is kind of eluding me at the moment, but that's exactly how I feel.

C'est Fini

2007-04-30T07:36:00.000-07:00

On Saturday I packed up my laptop and hauled it Borders on West End.

Now, the problem with the little café at this Borders is that Vanderbilt University is right behind it, so every college student who actually studies on a Saturday manages to be in there. And that means all the outlets are usually taken. I found one next to a fluffy chair, which wasn’t ideal as it meant typing with the laptop on my actual lap, which causes it to overheat and is not at all comfortable, but I made do.

I got distracted at first by a somewhat handsome guy who was dressed in loose khaki linen pants and a breezy island type of top with rubber flip-flops and carefully tousled hair. The outfit was so clearly designed to look not put together that it was obvious he had labored over the entire combination. I watched him successfully hit on the MBA student sitting next to me. They managed to chat for two hours.

Then I watched three girls from somewhere that was definitely not America greet a friend with curious left-right-left cheek kisses. I counted. Three kisses for each friend. No less, no more. I considered what type of reaction this would generate if I tried it with my own friends and decided they would mostly recoil is shock, surprise, and in one particular case, probably horror.

After considering the state of my nails, whether or not the couple sitting in front of me were really a couple or just study buddies, and whether I had just the right lighting for optimum typing, I dove in.

And folks, I did it. I finally finished a novel. Mind you, this is only the first draft. There are rewrites and revisions to come. But I did it. I didn’t think I had it in me. But lo and behold, it was there.

And I would be remiss if I did not give thanks to my Younger Bro who, three years ago, showed up on my doorstep at midnight with a small black cat and an endless supply of Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs. He introduced me to NaNoWriMo and has prodded, and poked, and encouraged, and wouldn’t let it rest.

If it weren’t for him, I would still be sitting here thinking that “some day” I might get serious about writing. Thanks to him I finally threw off the bowlines and headed for the open water.

And I'm so glad I did.

Friday's Fluff

2007-04-20T08:27:00.000-07:00

Just some lessons learned, observations, and what I think I would refer to as "Brain Lint."

1. Every person’s writing could use a good editor.

2. If chaperoning a youth group trip, always bring extra towels, socks, shirts, and an extra pair of shoes and flip-flops. However, these are not for you, and you will likely never see them again.

3. How carsick a kid gets is in direct proportion to how isolated an area you are in.

4. If you put your car in drive, and nothing happens, and then in reverse, and nothing happens, and then in any other gear, and nothing happens – you may just have a car problem there, my friend.

5. The more fancy the cell phone – the more likely it is that you will drop it immediately after receiving it.

6. It is possible to vacuum an entire living room carpet with a handheld DustBuster. Not ergonomically friendly, mind you, but possible.

7. No one looks very good on cell phone cameras.

8. It is a universal fact that the phone will ring right in the middle of your favorite TV program. It will never ring in the middle of unloading the dishwasher.

9. Never put your sports bra in the dryer on the “high heat” setting.

10. It's amazing that a person who is only 21 inches long and weighs roughly 8 pounds, and who cannot speak a word, is capable of getting exactly what it wants, when it wants it, regardless of the time of day or the schedules of anyone else concerned, yet will not incur the ill will of anyone against him or her.

In the Moment

2007-04-18T09:04:00.000-07:00

Last night I lay on the carpet in my bedroom, feet propped up on the bed at a 90-degree angle, left hand gently petting Hamish. I was exhausted. I bought a car yesterday, after 23 days of auto-related torture. It’s a nice little 2003 Honda Civic HX black two-door coupe. I hope drive it until the wheels fall off.

I lay there and chatted with Younger Bro, who was also flopped down on the rug with his feet up on the bed (we had a minor argument about him removing his shoes – I won) and chatted about our day. It reminded me of how many times I’ve talked with roommates, friends, Mom and Dad, and so many others in odd positions.

Not for me the cozy comfort of a plush armchair. No, I usually end up sitting on top of a kitchen counter, on a tile floor or, in many situations, sitting on the edge of the tub to have good long yap with my roomie or my mother as they put on makeup or fixed their hair.

My best friend and I, when we lived together, often ended up on the stairs at the end of the night. I would be on my way to bed and we would start talking and then an hour later I would say, “I’ve really got to get in bed,” and she would say, “Me, too,” and then we would keep talking while our bodies were sprawled at awkward angles to accommodate the small landing. It never occurred to us to move the conversation to a place more comfortable.

I have talked to people in the freezing cold just because I knew if we moved into warmth the moment would be gone forever. And I have sat in my driveway talking on my cell phone long after I arrived home because I didn’t want to let that person go.

The relationships I have with people I try to hold in high esteem. I try to honor them and give the time and attention they need – like special flowers that need tending to. I’m not the best at it, but I try. And it makes life a little more interesting.

Joy in the Valley

2007-04-10T09:19:00.000-07:00

I guess it's fairly obvious that things have been a little rough lately. The stress of this car situation (update - the "new" car I bought is a lemon, so we are trying to get my money back on it and I still don't have a car), the possible loss of all that hard-earned money, and some other factors in life are kicking me to the curb at the moment. Stress causes you to do weird things, like forget you put your debit card and driver's license in your jeans pocket for a hockey game one evening and then think you've been robbed when you can't find them in your wallet the next day. Or go to tap class, do a move, and then completely blank out on the routine. I simply stood there, facing wrong direction, trying to figure out what was going on.

Sooo... I haven't really reacted well to all of this, but I do want to thank those of you who read and comment because you all are such an encouragement to me. I used to think blogging was a great way to try to sharpen my writing skills. Now I know the truth - it's free therapy.

Anyway, in the midst of all this yuckiness there has been a bright spot, a new little life who came into the world this past Thursday at 12:20 p.m. This is Madelynne Celeste, my best friend's little girl, and when I held her all the other stresses in life just melted away.

I Could Sleep Forever

2007-04-06T09:51:00.000-07:00

Recently, an acquaintance told me she had a conversation with some old friends of mine, who asked about me.

“They asked me if you were married, and I told them no,” she explained, with a sad look on her face.

“And then they asked me if you had any prospects, and I told them I didn’t think so,” she looked at me with a little frown. “And then she said, ‘That’s such a shame, because she’s so sweet. I don’t know why she isn’t married.’”

While I appreciate the fact that I am, indeed, “sweet,” which is much better than being classified as, oh, “bitter,” that dreaded phrase “I don’t know why you aren’t married yet” is not quite the compliment I think some people believe it to be.

I know it is meant, in all innocence, as more of a “You’re a great catch,” but to the single (or at least this single) there is an unspoken fear that, deep down, there is something wrong with you. That somewhere along the way I screwed things up. I didn’t pray hard enough; I overlooked someone. I wasn’t thin enough, pretty enough, or congenial enough. I was too independent, too talkative, too quiet, too outgoing, too short, too fat, too curly-haired, too spiritual, too worldly, too, too, too….

It messes with my mind. It makes me doubt myself and worse, it makes me doubt God’s plans for my life. I feel like the leftover, the forgotten, the one who must always plaster a smile on her face as she sits at dinner with all her couple friends once again and pretend everything is all okay. And frankly, there are moments when it is just not.

Compared to the problems other people have I know this is tiny, nothing, miniscule. It’s just my little bundle of sticks to carry. But at the moment, I’m tired just so tired of carrying them.

Decaffeinated

2007-04-03T06:55:00.000-07:00

This morning, our coffee pot is missing. We aren't sure what happened to it, but I didn't realize how much I relied on that little cup in the morning to get me going. It's a simple pleasure I look forward to, and at the moment it is gone.

I am now hyper-sensitive to my rumbly tummy. And could that be the faintest whisper of a caffeine headache? I believe it is. My eyelids are beginning to close. My copywriting is suffering. The sharpness, the wit, the creative inspiration - it is nowhere to be found. What shall I do? This is an awful way to begin my Tuesday. I thought my trials last week would break me, but this, this my friends, may very well prove to be my undoing...

Hey! I just remembered I have some tea bags in my desk. Hurrah!
Whew. Disaster averted.
Excuse me.

And so it goes

2007-03-30T11:20:00.000-07:00

Saturday- On way to mall for last hurrah before best-friend delivers baby, car makes huge thud-pop noise and slowly dies. Manage to steer it into a Bank of America parking lot. Tow-truckage and mechanic-finding ensue. Girlfriends cheer me up with pedicure.

Sunday – Mechanic is closed. Bum rides to and from church with Younger Bro.

Monday – Bum ride to work with co-worker. Mechanic calls – transmission is shot. Cost? $3,400. Actual worth of car? Less than $500. Tears and panic follow. Call Mom, who calls Dad. Much discussion. Decide to get rid of car and get another used one. Know trusted friend at church who does auto auctions. Call him and give him price range. Go get rental car for meantime.

Tuesday – Rental car company misunderstands my request to only have the car a couple of days and charges me for a week. Cost = $297. Call and cry to car rep.

Wednesday – Old car towed to salvage lot. Nearly killed in pouring rain as rental car fishtails into a truck on bridge but corrects itself at last minute. Saved by God’s merciful hand. Take check from salvage yard and buy new shoes and purse on way to bank. Ah, good news. New car bought at auction – 99 Nissan Maxima. Needs new tires, but that is basically it. Pick up car before church. Like it.

Thursday – New car will not start in morning. Call friend, who arrives with a mechanic. They bring me to work and have the car towed to his business, where they determine it needs a new fuel pump and they replace the old one. After work, Younger Bro drives me out to pick up new car.

New car still won’t start. Call friend again. He comes over and checks it out. Possible it is bad gas. Fill up with premium. Go to dinner. Car starts okay after dinner.

Friday – New car has problems starting in the morning, but finally catches and I make it to work. Friend calls to see how it is running. Runs fine. Starts badly. More head scratching. Still not sure of problem. Cry at work. Again.

Want bicycle.

Friday’s Scramble

2007-03-16T08:44:00.000-07:00

Oh, Baby
Excuse me if I’m a wee bit out of puff (as my Scottish friends would say), but the baby shower I threw last Saturday for my best friend worked me into a frenzy. It was the first time my little home made a public debut (i.e. the first time we allowed other people into it). So I had Younger Bro working hard on hanging up all that stuff that has so artfully sat against the wall for oh, nearly a year now. It’s so nice to know that there are more decorative elements for my dining room than an ironing board and 15 pounds of random junk mail.

But the weather was lovely, the house was a hit, and Best Friend got tons of good loot. And I discovered the pleasure of vacuumed carpet and home décor.

Heading South?
I’ve managed to lose about 12 pounds since last year on my own, but there are another 15 or so I’d like to get rid of. More than anything, I want to eat better. So I’m looking into this South Beach Diet thing. Anyone have any opinions or experiences with this? Chime in and let me know.

Literary Aspirations
I attended my “Writing Mystery and Suspense” class with Tasha Alexander on Tuesday evening. She was a great speaker, and it was so encouraging to listen to her and get insight and pointers about writing and also about getting published. She asked if anyone had brought what they were working on, and only one other guy and myself brought something. I thought this was rather odd, but as the woman sitting in front of me took her notes on the back of a shopping receipt, I’m not so sure everyone was in the class for the same reason.

Anyway, she asked me to read my first couple paragraphs out loud, which reminded me very much of my creative writing class in college, and I thought I was going to die of nervousness. But I gave it a go, and she gave me some positive feedback. I hung around after class to get her to autograph her book (hey, why not?), and we got to talking and discovered that we like a lot of the same authors. We ended up walking together out to the parking lot, and she very kindly offered to read my manuscript when I’m done and even, if it merits something, possibly show it to her agent.

Which was a humongous incentive to get my derriere in a chair and finish this thing. And I haven’t been able to really concentrate on much ever since.

Thursday's Top 10 - Courtesy of Target

2007-03-08T12:46:00.000-08:00

1. Never wear a red shirt while shopping at Target, unless you want to be asked where the Q-tips are and the location of the bathrooms.

2. Bathing suits that make their appearance in March should come equipped with a warning label that says, “Frankly, kiddo, you aren’t ready for me yet.”

3. When I asked for a ball of string, the store clerk asked me, “What is that?” How do you describe string? Strands of jute woven together? It’s like thread, but thicker? Like rope, but skinnier?

4. Wedge sandals can be cute, but unless you’ve got some truly awesome calves and balancing agility….

5. Ever notice that, as St. Patrick’s Day approaches, suddenly everyone becomes Irish?

6. Note: Ireland and Scotland are not the same. Just to clear up that commonly held misconception among the geographically challenged.

7. Ohhhh, Maeve Binchy has a new novel out – love her storytelling ability. Anyone read it yet?

8. Just for the record, Maeve is Irish.

9. I tried to find a baby shower gift bag with two objectives – no pink and no dancing bears. Result: You just can’t get it both ways. I went for the bears.

10. With distress, I noticed that those teeny-tiny-micro-minute-scrap-of-a-fabric shorts are once again on the display racks. At this moment in time, I’ve very glad I don’t have a teen daughter. Or teen son, for that matter.

Pulling Mussels From the Shell*

2007-03-06T07:20:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I received a little catalog from a local school inviting me to attend an evening class, and while I wasn’t particularly interested in “Conscious Breathing” or “Zen and the Art of Western Insanity,” they did have one that caught my eye – “Writing Mystery & Suspense.”

Hmmm.

The teacher is Tasha Alexander, whose debut novel, “And Only to Deceive” was published by HarperCollins this fall. I read the book over the weekend, deemed it a good read, and signed up for the class. The course description also suggested bringing the first couple pages of your manuscript along.

Oh.

I do have a manuscript. I’ve been intermittently plugging away at it. But to have it shown to a published author? For a possible critique? I’m just a bit nervous. I mean, no one has seen those pages yet (with the exception a small excerpt seen by Jules and Katrina).

So yesterday I sat down in the library on my lunch break and tried to polish what originally started out as a “NanoWriMo Mess.”

And just as I was getting into it, a voice piped up behind me.

“Excuse me, does your computer get good reception in here?”

I turned around to see a woman standing there, loaded down with books.

“I’m not on the internet, so I don’t really know.”

“Oh. Okay.”

I returned to my typing. I had specifically chosen the library, assured that surely there no one would interrupt me, and I wouldn’t have another Panera Bread debacle.

“Excuse me,” she asked again.

“Yes?”

“Do you have a job?”

“Um, yes.”

“Where at?”

“A marketing firm near here.”

“Do you think they would hire me? I’m looking for a job.”

What on earth? Why? Why? Why am I a magnet for odd encounters like this?

I just blurted out the first thing that ripped through my thoughts.

“Um, no.”

I wasn’t trying to be rude but… I guess I was. I tend to get very grouchy when I’m interrupted from my writing. Maybe I should be closeted away from the world, not fit for human interaction until I’m at a good stopping place and ready to re-emerge into the sunlight once again.

Anyway, the class is next Tuesday. I’ll let you know how it goes.

*Warning: Title has absolutely nothing to do with post but does happen to be the song running through my head today.

We Interrupt Your Life to Bring You...

2007-02-26T17:28:00.000-08:00

Random bits from the corners of Shell's mind:

1. In addition to the pulled muscle, I also caught a cold dubbed "The Terminator" by Younger Bro. I still don't have the back of it yet, but it has reduced me to the kind of person who carries around her medicine in a separate plastic bag because it doesn't fit into her purse.

2. While backing out of my parking space at the library today, I saw a pair of white G-string underwear laying on the ground. This is inexplicable to me, and the rest of the way to work I kept wondering how they got there, who they belonged to, and so on and so forth.

3. I was told this weekend that I am "intelligent and cultured." Although I appreciate the compliment, the night before I had sat at my coffee table hunched over a bowl of Ramen watching American Idol. So, sadly, it may not be an accurate statement - on either count.

4. I'm trying to get my momentum back for the novel writing. In November I wrote 50,000 words. Since that time I've turned out another 12,000. Obviously, I am the kind of person who needs a deadline.

5. Sometimes, you do get nice mortgage people on the phone, who speak in clear, understandable English and, even when they aren't able to help you, are proactive in transferring you to someone who can. Thank you, Wells Fargo.

6. Is it okay to not like Al Gore? Because, folks, I am sick to death of him. The headquarters for the Gore/Leiberman campaign was in the building next to where I used worked in Nashville. And the ones running those headquarters were horrible to us. They used to sit on our cars at lunch and smoke cigarettes and sneer when we shooed them off. It just biased me against him. I don't like Hilary either, just to throw that out there. (P.S. Please don't send me nasty comments full of your political opinions - thanks.)

7. Oh, and Valentine's Day this year? Well, remember what I said about how the best ones tend to be unplanned for and unexpected? I was right.

8. Sunday morning the weather felt just like Scotland in the summer. I miss it. So I raise my little cup of hot tea to you, my other home. *sigh*

9. I think this medicine is making me slightly loopy. It's making my novel

very interesting.

Cupid, Draw Back Your Bow

2007-02-14T07:03:00.001-08:00

I have a confession to make: The best Valentine’s I’ve ever had were the ones when I wasn’t actually dating someone. I discovered long ago that, for me at least, the Day seemed to be filled with a lot of pressure and expectations that ended up in a big messy heap.

There was the year when my boyfriend and I planned a romantic picnic. It rained, so we moved it indoors. We both had the flu, but we tried to power through and salvage the Day. Alas, it ended in a trip to the drugstore where we both purchased boxes of Theraflu and argued over what flavor of Hall’s cough drops are the best. (For the record, I’m partial to cherry.)

Then there was the Day Of Darkness; when my fiancé and I broke up the day before Valentine’s Day. Trust me, what you don’t want to do on Valentine’s Day is go down your list of wedding people and cancel the dresses, the photographer, the cake, the ring, the church, the flowers, and so on. Oh, and you also get to call all your friends in the wedding party and let them know as well. Let’s just say Doritos and I began an unhealthy relationship that week.

But the best days have been the ones where I actually forgot it was Valentine’s; when unexpected surprises came out of nowhere, and mostly when I’ve been just content with life in general.

So tonight I’ve got a date with a group of second graders in my Wednesday night Bible class. They are precious (if somewhat antsy) little people, who pepper me with all kinds of interesting questions and scenarios. We’ve already discussed why Jesus did not have a cell phone, how the crowd was able to hear him without a microphone, and if you are a child when you die, will you be a child in heaven? Or do you get to be an adult? Finally?

Then there is one little boy who is very concerned about the fact that Jesus wasn’t married. He asks about it every week, like the further we read along in our Bibles he’ll discover there’s a wedding in there or something that we’ve all missed. I’ve explained that Jesus was 30 when he started his ministry, was 33 when he was crucified and rose again, and so he had a lot to squeeze into three short years. He’s still not satisfied.

I’m sure it will come up again tonight.
Happy Valentine’s Day, ya’all!

Public Service Announcement: Yet Another Reason Why You Should Not Ignore Pain

2007-02-09T08:38:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday I bent over to grab a towel off the floor and sneezed. This isn’t a terribly unusual occurrence in any person’s life, but this time a horrible, sharp pain shot from my back to my stomach.

Some time around Christmas, I’ve been having this pain in my back. I thought it was probably just a pulled muscle or something, gritted my teeth, and got on with life. In my New Year zeal, I’ve been going to dance classes and the Y with a vengeance, and I wasn’t about to let a little discomfort in my back slow me down.

Until I sneezed. This was a BIG pain, the kind that sort of catches your breath and leaves you mentally writing a will. So I padded down the stairs and consulted Younger Bro who knows a lot about all kinds of things, including healthcare related questions.

I explained the situation. He asked questions regarding kidney function, shortness of breath, and so on. Finally, he asked me where, exactly, it hurt, and checked one side of my back compared to the other side. (This is what we do in my family to test for abnormalities – checking symmetry. For example, if that strange bump I discovered on the right side of the base of my skull also exists on the left side, then it’s probably just my skull.)

Anyway, he gave me a little pat and said, “I think you need to go to Urgent Care.”
“Why?”
“Well, you’ve got something sticking out on one side of you that you doesn’t stick out on the other side.”

That got me worried. So I headed off to Dr. Wei, who asked me basically all the questions Younger Bro did and then gently probed my throbbing back.
“This is probably a pulled muscle. You said you did this at Christmas?”
“I think. I can’t remember anything specific.”
“And you’ve been exercising since then?”
“Um, yes.”
“You’ve probably been re-injuring it. We’re going to treat this as a pulled muscle, but come back in two weeks if it isn’t any better and we’ll shoot some x-rays to make sure it isn’t a cracked rib.”
“Cracked rib?”
“Yes. Basically you treat it the same way; not much you can do.”

He loaded me up on muscle relaxers, Motrin, and these funky Lidocaine patches that take up most of the real estate on my back and go on cold and wet.

The worst part? No exercise for two weeks. And all my lovely New Year momentum is just slipping away.

The best part – endless excuses to not do any cleaning.

You're Flirting with Time, Maybe

2007-02-06T08:02:00.000-08:00

Last night I rocked a tiny baby in my arms. She was only 12 hours old and had a darling little white bow affixed to her head. Her mass of dark hair had been fluffed into an inexplicable yet adorable little mohawk a la Maddox Jolie.

I had been cold all day, so the baby pretty much functioned as a portable heater. I wondered, briefly, if this was selfish use of my baby-holding time, but the warmth was so lovely I pushed that thought aside.

I looked down at her sweet little face and, with trepidation, waited to see what my reaction would be. Would I hear it? That tick-tock-ticking of a biological clock everyone warns me about? Would I be awash in urges to have babies, hold babies, and spend countless hours in Gymboree and The Children’s Place? After all, in the past few months I have accompanied friends to countless Motherhood Maternity stores, stocked up on baby gifts at the Carter’s outlet, and even planned a baby shower with carefully selected baby décor that’s not pink (as mandated by the soon-to-be Mom).

So I’ve kind of been expecting it – the worry, the fear, the anxiety that perhaps my small window of child-bearing years is slipping through my hands.

But it hasn’t happened. And I wonder if I should be worried about that. I think kids are great. Some are better than others. I don’t go crazy over them like some of the women I know do. Well, there’s one in my life that’s such a smiler I can’t help but be a little stupid around him, but there are no massive maternal urges to pick these children up and spirit them away to my home.

I know I’ve written about this before, but it’s just a question that bobs up here and there. Should I be worried that I’m not worried? Or am I, once again, trying to judge myself against a standard of what and where I’m supposed to be in life?

Finally

2007-01-26T09:04:00.000-08:00

For those of you who may be fellow Lost fans out there, I offer this "Final Episode" that aired at the Consumer Electronic Show CES in Vegas. The joke about CES is in the beginning, but my favorite part is when Henry Gale reveals to Sayid what it has all been about.

Bt Sft, Whit Lit Threw Ynder Wndw Br8ks?

2007-01-18T14:29:00.000-08:00

I absolutely had to share this.

I Know This Much Is True

2007-01-17T07:25:00.000-08:00

I sank up to my chin in the hot tub and let the bubbles foam around me. From my view on the cabin deck all I could see were the tiny lights on the mountains that jutted up in the distance. Wispy tendrils of steam danced on top of the water and, for the first time in days, I was finally alone.

I had a long, long talk with God. I argued, I made suggestions, I outlined possibilities. Everything remained silent.

I stared at the tall mountains across from me. They sat there and offered no inspiration. In exhaustion, I rested my head against the edge of the tub and confronted the real question about the matter – Do I trust God with the outcome?

I do.

Well, then.

And the Stars Above

2007-01-12T06:42:00.000-08:00

Lately my mental state has resembled a junkyard of randomness – the flotsam and jetsam of fragmented thoughts and ideas. The main thing on my mind at the moment, the idea that consumes most of my waking hours, is that little piece of advice Mom gave me from the last post. You know, the one that asked, “Is this something worth fighting for?”

I’ve been mulling that over a lot. I’m not trying to be coy about the situation or ultra-mysterious, but it’s something I’d rather keep private for now. What I decide to do with it could make a major impact on my life or destroy some things I hold very dear.

I’ve taken to looking pensively out of windows, and I’m not the kind of person pensive looks good on.

Anyway, that’s what has been going on. Also, I’m heading off to Gatlinburg this weekend for a singles retreat. Except this year it’s mostly just a girl’s retreat, but we intend to have fun. Maybe it’s just what I need to clear out all this mental wreckage and start off with a fresh slate. Perhaps startling insights will fall on me like thunderbolts from heaven. Then again, that sounds a mite dangerous. Maybe they’ll just gently land on my head and provide clear direction.

In other news, this apparently is National De-Lurking Week. And if you’re still reading along after all that nonsense above, I urge you to De-Lurk! Let yourself be known! I’d love to know that I’m not just writing into the ether. (Note to self: Do most writers have narcissistic tendencies? Explore theme at later date.) My comments are set to moderate so there will be a delay in them showing up, but don’t let that deter you.

And have a wonderful weekend.

Mama Said

2007-01-05T20:45:00.000-08:00

As my relationship with my Mother has moved from a strictly Daughter/Mom role to that of friends, I've discovered that her advice resonates a little bit more than it used to. For example:

At age 15:
"Those shoes are going to cause blisters."
"What? No way."

At age 18:
"Come here and let me show you how to reconcile a bank statement."
"What? No way."

At age 22:
"Don't you think that it's time to just call this relationship quits?"
"What? No way."

At age 28:
"Moving to Scotland is going to be hard."
"What? No way."

And so on and so forth. The great thing about time, however, is that it gives you a chance to start to look back over the garden of your life, examine the flowers, pull out the weeds, and take note of which plants are better suited to your climate. You pay attention to which ones should not be planted in certain seasons and others that need a little extra effort and care. It's also helpful to speak with an expert gardener.

So when I had a chance to use Mom as a sounding board this Christmas regarding some things in my life, I actually listened to her. She has common sense in spades, and I can certainly use a little more of that. She said two things in particular that I plan to take with me into the New Year:

1. "Is this something worth fighting for?"

And,

2. "You're over committed. Pick three things you love and drop the rest."

See, very simple yet sage advice for this harried little chick.

And I got a bonus from Grandma Sugar:
"Those heels are going to mess up your feet - look at mine."

While Visions of Home Improvement Gift Cards Dance in Her Head

2006-12-22T07:44:00.000-08:00

The blog has suffered a bit in November and December - NaNoWriMo and a rather harrowing holiday season got to me. However, I do want to thank everyone who has offered a comment or stopped by, or just lurked silently in the shadows. I will try to be more regular with the writing in the New Year.

I'm especially grateful to those of you who have offered advice on what to say to people who are hurting. Much of your insight came out of your own pain, and I'm thankful to be able to partake of your wisdom.

I head off to the wilds of Oklahoma tomorrow (via a plane - no 16-hour drives for me, thank you) to spend some lovely days with the best family God could have possibly given me. We will watch movies, play cards and dominoes, rearrange the logs in the fireplace, make rotel dip late at night, and laugh and talk and hang out in our pajamas.

May you all be so blessed. Take care and have a Merry Christmas!

Scrappy

2006-12-18T11:26:00.000-08:00

Yesterday began a little saga in our world that I hope ends soon. Hamish, my gray and white cat, is mysteriously sick. He's been sick everywhere (although not quite on the scale of Caleb ), but still sick enough to make us empty the bottle of Resolve.

I thought perhaps he had eaten a bug or something and just needed to get it out of his system. But the sickness kept going through the night, so this morning I determined to take him to the vet. I hauled out the Pet Carrier and attempted to stuff him (gently) in it.

Hamish wanted none of that. Normally he is very compliant and will usually walk in it of his own accord. But somehow, today, he knew. And thus began our battle. As I pushed, he anchored his claws on either side of the little door and hung on for dear life. I managed to get the front half of him inside, and he hooked his back claws into the carpet. There was no hissing or biting, just a very determined effort to not go in there. He twisted, he turned, he hung on.

Finally, I had to call in the big guns. Younger Bro is pretty much the Cat Whisperer in our house and he tried the belly-rubbing, gentle-talking, firmly guiding method. Hamish didn't squirm nearly as much, but he let him know it was not going to happen. We were just about to consider wrapping him in a towel when YB succeeded in popping him in the carrier.

Once inside, he settled down complacently and didn't even let out a meow. He's a good car rider, so there were no problems there. The vet can't figure out what is wrong with him, although she took X-rays and there are no obstructions. They are going to keep him the rest of the day for observation. She told me he's sitting in the surgery ward at the moment (due to lack of space elsewhere) and is very happy looking around. Apparently he has won over the staff with his sweet demeanor.

I learned a couple of lessons today:
1. Don't wear a black top while attempting to wrangle a gray and white cat.
2. Never kiss the top of your cat's head while wearing lip gloss. He won't like it and neither will you.
And just for general purposes,
3. Always open the seal on your tub of yogurt facing away from your body.

The Garden State

2006-12-11T09:05:00.000-08:00

Sometimes in life you are pulled off your normal, routine path and find yourself on a little detour. Which is the only explanation for why I ended up on the side of a road in New Brunswick, New Jersey on Saturday night.

Let me explain: I’m on the domestic missions committee at my congregation, and we have been looking for areas to help plant a church. We found a group of young couples who have started a congregation in New Jersey, so a few of the other committee members and myself flew up there for the weekend to check it all out.

The people and the church there were great – I enjoyed getting to know them better. After meeting most of Saturday afternoon, we were invited to a progressive Christmas dinner that evening, traveling to four different houses all over town. We followed one of the couples, so everything was just fine until, on our way to the last house (the dessert house, as luck would have it), we got to talking in the car and then discovered that our point man Hyundai was no longer in front of us. Calls on mobile phones ensued, directions were given to pull over and stay put, and we had a long wait until our intrepid navigators finally arrived and led us back to the right place.

Fortunately, a lot of chocolate was still available (I was worried we would be so late it would be gone.). But the whole experience made me think about how rich my life is in experiences and what God has blessed me with. When I spoke with these earnest young people about their cost of living and the strain of their daily commutes I realized how thankful I am for my home in Nashville and the world I’ve been blessed with here.

For me, I need to take a step back at times and understand that my life is full of blessings. I got up this morning in good health and put my own two feet on the floor without any assistance in a comfortably heated home. I have plumbing that works, friends to call on in a crisis, a church home that is fantastic, and a family that would do just about anything for me.

So, thanks, New Jersey. I don’t know why visiting your state made me realize how much I like my life in the South and have epiphanies of gratefulness but it did. Now, concerning your Turnpike….

Curl Up with a Hot Cuppa and ...

2006-12-06T07:24:00.000-08:00

When my mother asked me for my Christmas list I realized that minor appliances, linens, and furniture topped it. Which is rather boring. Who gets excited about a Dust Buster for Christmas? Sadly, I do.

Instead of a list of holiday gift suggestions, I'm going to leave you with a list of what's on my bookshelf at home. Going on the hunch that quite a bit of bloggers also happen to be avid readers, perhaps you'll find a good read you weren't expecting. And I apologize that I will not be conveniently linking every book to a helpful website where you can purchase it. Just throw the name into Amazon's search engine or something, and I'm sure they'll help you out. (Did I ever mention I am a lazy blogger?) So, for better or worse, here it is:

On Writing, by Stephen King - Frankly, what can come out of this man's imagination scares the stuffing out of me. Clowns were already on my hit list, and then we got It. But this little gem of a book is one of the few I've actually enjoyed about writing itself. He won't give you a formulaic plan or anything like that, but it's very encouraging to any budding novelist. Also, the producers of Lost are big King fans, and you'll actually find some stuff in here that, hmm, sounds vaguely familiar if you are a fan of the series.

A Walk in the Woods & Down Under by Bill Bryson - I love good travel stories, and Bryson just nails it. His other books are good as well, but these two are my favorites. Whether he's contemplating a bear attack or sharing a train compartment with annoying passengers, these are hilarious. Bonus: You learn about another country and don't even know it. Beware his penchant for evolutionary theory. It only pops up rarely, though.

The Amelia Peabody Mysteries by Elizabeth Peters - Start with the first one, Crocodile on the Sandbank. Not only are they fun mysteries, but also I've learned a lot about the British occupation of Egypt and Egyptian history.

The Cat Who Series by Lillian Jackson Braun - Fun, quick reads. Perfect for an airplane.

Stillwatch and Where are the Children? by Mary Higgins Clark - In my humble opinion, her earlier works are a bit better than her later ones. I think I own all of them, though.

Anne of Green Gables and Anne of the Islandby Lucy Maud Montgomery - The whole series is good, but I remember my relief and satisfaction when she FINALLY realized Gilbert was the one for her. Whew.

The Sue Grafton mysteries - This is the alphabet mysteries featuring Kinsey Milhone. They are full of detail and well-paced and plotted.

A Girl Named Zippy and She Got Up Off the Couch by Haven Kimmel - Very absorbing, sometimes hysterically funny, memoirs of growing up in a small town. The author is able to capture the viewpoint of a child who's quite content to walk to the beat of her own drummer.

Up and Down in the Dales, The Other Side of the Dale, and Head over Heels in the Dales by Gervase Phinn. I found these books in Scotland. Phinn was a school inspector in the Yorkshire Dales in England and his encounters with children, head teachers, and the staff he works with are all engaging. Anyone who has ever worked with kids, or has kids, or knows just how hilarious kids can be when they are at their most earnest and honest will enjoy these.

The Hamish MacBeth mysteries by M.C. Beaton - These all start with Death of a _____. Set in a little town in the Scottish Highlands, they are more about the characters in the town and Hamish himself than the mysteries they revolve around. I like this series a lot better than her Agatha Raisin one. Agatha is just a character I cannot love. But Hamish, well, you kind of want to go on a date with him…

Maeve Binchy - Flat out, this woman is a great storyteller. She's able to weave different character's viewpoints into a great narrative that doesn't lag. Circle of Friends is still my favorite - and although the movie was decent, the book is way better.

Timeline by Micheal Crichton - Another one where you need to ignore the movie. At some point, while reading this book, I realized he had made me read several pages about quantum theory and I didn't mind it - I was still absorbed in the mystery. So props to Crichton for that.

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger - I'm always amazed at what can come out of someone's imagination, and the ability of the author to pull you along is incredible. You almost feel like you are Henry himself, shooting from one year to the next.

To the Vanishing Point by Alan Dean Foster - For the those who want their road trips with a little more spice than usual - check out this family's trip down a road they never intended to travel. My favorite part is when the highway patrol man sucks the oil filter clean and they realize that, perhaps, all is not what it appears to be.

Jane Austen - Enough said. One day while visiting a fellow missionary in Loughborough, England, she said, “Do you want to visit Chatsworth? It's where they filmed a lot of the BBC's Pride and Prejudice.” And I swooned and pretended I was Elizabeth roaming the house and gardens - but without the fetching empire-waisted dress. And no Colin Firth coming out of a pond. But still.

J.K. Rowling - I resisted Harry Potter when he first came out. I don't know why. Then I fell in love with him. I remember standing in Heathrow airport with The Sorcerer's Stone tucked under my arm and an 11-year old boy walked by me with the exact same book tucked under his arm, except in the UK it's called The Philosopher's Stone. We had an exciting discussion about our different book covers and where the whole series was going. Any author that manages to create impromptu book clubs in random international airports between people of different nationalities and age groups deserves a mention here.

Have fun!

P.S. I apologize for any mistakes in author names or book titles.

Positively Giddy!

2006-11-29T20:16:00.000-08:00

Many, many thanks to my incredible encouragers out there. I never could have done it without you.

Pick-Up Line of the Day

2006-11-29T10:43:00.000-08:00

The Scene:
Panera Bread, lunchtime. Shell is setting up her laptop so she can hopefully squeeze out another 1,000 words for NaNo. An Annoying Man who is NOT AT ALL ATTRACTIVE is sitting one table away with a PS3 prominently displayed on his table. He is trying to sell it to people who ask about it.

AM: Hey, is that an Apple? (nodding towards Shell's laptop)

Shell: Yes, it is.

AM: So is that a green apple, a red apple, or a blue apple? Heh, heh.

Shell: Just a regular Apple.

AM: Hey! I got you to smile!

(Shell gives a very fake, half-hearted smile.)

AM: Well, that didn't look very sincere.

(Shell ignores him.)

AM: So, how was your Thanksgiving?

Shell: Listen, I'm really just here to get some work done.

AM: Well fine. Be that way, then. (Annoying Man huffily crosses arms and proceeds to shoot her dirty looks for the next hour. Consequently, Shell's NaNo ends up looking like the following:

I don't want to talk with you about my Thanksgiving vacation, dude. I don't know you, except you're hustling PS3s in Panera while you play solitaire on your laptop. I can't even enjoy myself over here, I want to leave so badly. Grrrr. Just leave me in peace. Now I can't even concentrate on my novel, MY NOVEL, because you are staring at me. And I can't move because this is the only outlet connection left. Just, just, peddle your wares elsewhere, okay? Thwarted! You have thwarted my attempts to write on my hard-earned lunch break. …

Now, I realize the above stream-of-consciousness has nothing to do with whether James is going to go ahead and get married to Angela or if Leah can figure out how John's ring ended up in the hole Kevin fell into, but it can still count towards my word total, right?

She's Going the Distance

2006-11-28T14:41:00.000-08:00

Ladies and gentlemen – I have no idea if I’m going to make NaNo this year. I lost five days while at Mom and Dad’s in Oklahoma. I’ve got 9,500 words to go and a packed schedule ahead of me already.

No grocery shopping has been done, the laundry situation is starting to scare me, and this morning I noticed the bathtub isn’t draining properly, again. I hate it when that happens, when there is a small tubful of soapy water that just sits there around my ankles. I’d like to think that my feet are just getting some extra cleaning time (because let’s face it, they really don’t get a lot of quality time in the shower; they are just kind of down there), but I know better.

Regardless, though, of whether I will successfully sport the NaNo Winner icon come Friday, I can tell you this – I’m having fun.

I really am. I’ve got a police sergeant who keeps forgetting his arm is broken, a heroine who’s addicted to scones, and two 10-year-old boys who somehow manage to weave their way into scenes I didn’t think they should be in. And we don’t even know who the body belongs to, yet.

Which means that although NaNo ends this Thursday, I’m determined to keep at it. Plus, I really want to find out who done it. ☺

On the Road

2006-11-27T12:59:00.000-08:00

Younger Bro and I, after a 14-hour drive back to Nashville…

Shell: I think we’re definitely bonded now.

YB (sarcastically): Yes. Because we were so NOT close before.

Shell: Well, we weren’t very close when you first moved in with me.

YB: But then we had hundreds of hours of watching “Buffy.” Hundreds of hours of a shared mutual interest.

Shell: Thank you, Joss Whedon.

A House Full of Love

2006-11-19T13:49:00.000-08:00

In our Bible class this morning, we went around the room and answered the question, "What are you grateful for?" It didn't take me long to find my answer. This Thursday, for the first time in five years, my entire family will gather around the table in Oklahoma.

This is quite an accomplishment. Since about 2001, we've been a bit scattered. I had a couple years in Scotland, where, incidentally, they do not celebrate Thanksgiving. (Indeed, one year I forgot about it completely.) Then my brother moved to the great big cities of the Northeastern U.S. and had some job situations that made it impossible for him to come home. Then there is Grandma Sugar, a greeter at Wal-Mart, who always has to work that day. (BOO, Wal-Mart!)

But 2006 is the year we change all that. Sugar got her time off from Wally world, Younger Brother is now in Nashville in a much better job, and I, well, I'm here as well. Wednesday night we'll pack up the car and drive 12 hours or so. We'll pull in on Thursday just in time to sit down at a table that is not only filled with food, but surrounded by people who love us, who welcome us with open arms. We'll sit and eat and talk, and the time we spend together will be priceless and blessed.

I can hardly wait.

Somewhere in the Middle, Then

2006-11-16T10:49:00.000-08:00

She battled on through the night, bruised, shaken, and in desperate need of a caffiene fix. Eyes blurred from staring too long at a glowing computer screen, she finally offered her word count to the powers that be - 25,816.

Halfway there.

Yeeeeeee!

Charlie's Update

2006-11-10T08:36:00.000-08:00

Hello!
It's Charlie here, filling in for Shell. I'm the Inner Moose on loan from Katrina over at http://notesonanapkin.blogspot.com. Shell is too tired to update her blog, but she did want me to post her latest word count on her novel: 15,699.

So far, her main male character has run over her main female character with his bicycle. It was an accident. That's about it for the action. But young Kevin and Ian have found a mysterious hole in the churchyard. They haven't been able to investigate it yet, because they got called in for supper, so we'll have to wait to see what's down there.

Shell has also decided to cut me off from my cafe latte's. She says she wants me slim for the Thanksgiving feast that's happening in a few weeks. Plus, I was too wired when she wanted to go to sleep. So now I'm on decaf when we sit down at Borders cafe and she tries to write.

We saw a girl there yesterday who was reading "The Idiot's Guide to Pleasing Your Man." Shell thought this was hysterically funny, for some reason. I don't really get it, but you know humans.

Hope you all have good weekend.
Signed,
A Moose with a Purpose
(Charlie)

P.S. I would have liked to have put my hoof print signature in here, but as Shell can't even figure out how to do a simple embedded link, she believes it may be beyond us.

The Golden Hour

2006-11-07T07:21:00.000-08:00

The best part of writing is when I'm not aware that I'm writing at all. When an entire scene is playing out in my head and I can't get the words down fast enough. There's a whole world being enacted, entirely for my benefit, and I'm not really aware that I'm writing. I'm in another place and time.

The worst part of writing is when I'm very aware that I'm writing, when every sentence is squeezed out of me. When I find myself looking at the clock, double checking my word count, or staring out the window (I do this quite well.).

I've been trying to write a little bit before the work day begins. But today I woke up to a gray little world. Petty little annoyances flooded in; negative people began talking, and before I knew it, that stupid moose galloped away. :) (His name is Charlie, per Katrina, and he is very fond of cafe lattes.)

In search of my inner moose

2006-11-05T20:01:00.000-08:00

Word count: 9,565
Buffy DVD count: 4 episodes (to take mental break, of course) + 1 Amazing Race episode (Naturally. And let's face it, as much as I liked them, it was really time for Team Kentucky to go.)

I was talking to someone in what I thought was a rather writerly fashion. We were discussing where ideas come from when I said, "I just need to find my inner moose."

This might explain an awful lot about my writing.

However, I kind of like the idea of a nice, big hard-working moose guiding me through the realms of fiction rather than the wispy, just-out-of reach muse.

And perhaps now I need to go to bed.

For some reason, the last comments I was sent would not update. But please keep sending them whether they appear or not. I can really use the encouragement! Thanks!

Down the Rabbit Hole

2006-11-02T08:19:00.000-08:00

Day 1 stats:

1600 words (excellent, so far)
2 cups of coffee (well below life-threatening limit, good)
Number of minutes spent staring into space contemplating where this thing is going - several hundred (give or take a few)
Number of times I've doubted whether this was such a great idea - 24 (for just about every hour of the day - even in my dreams the Inner Critic haunts me)
Time spent finding this quote by Oscar Wilde (15 minutes):

"I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again."

That Oscar. He knows.

With Reckless Abandon

2006-10-26T06:56:00.000-07:00

While November is often a time for scarves and Mom's stuffing, it means something else to me. Because November 1 officially begins NaNoWriMo - or National Novel Writing Month. This fantastically fun month is a challenge to every procrastinating writer out there to write a novel in a month.

In a month?
That's correct.

The goal is to hit 50,000 words by the end of the month. There are no prizes or anything like that. No one keeps tabs on you (although you are encouraged to keep tabs on yourself and commiserate with other participants). You aren't allowed to begin writing until midnight of Nov. 1, although character sketches or plot outlines ahead of time are allowed.

You aren't allowed to edit or rewrite what you've written. The goal is just to get the words out - no matter how awful they may be. To turn off that internal editor and just keep going. Because everyone who wants to write assumes that "some day" you will - and it never really happens. No one is going to hand me a six month sabbatical in a beautiful thatched roof cottage somewhere (somehow I've always envisioned my writerly self penning masterpieces - or really marketable stuff - under thatched eaves). So on my lunch breaks, in those precious evening hours after work, I'm brushing off the handle to that little door called imagination and entering another world.

All that to say the blog may suffer a bit in November.

She Dreams in Color

2006-10-19T06:11:00.000-07:00

I had an awful dream the other night about a baby. It wasn't my baby - it was Faith Hill's baby. I don't even think she has a kid that is baby age, but I digress. Anyway, I was some sort of nanny on her tour (Tim was nowhere around), and I could not take care of this kid. I kept trying to give it a bath and it shot out of my hands like a tiny rocket. I dropped it on the floor every time I tried to pick it up. Literally, it was like the baby was constantly covered in baby oil, and I was the world's clumsiest person. Finally, the baby looked up at me and firmly said, "Please stop."

I woke up quite sad.

Now, this dream wasn't as odd as the one where I was being chased by a white rhinoceros driving a red sports car (knock yourself out interpreting *that* one), or the one about Michael the Monkey and the members of Green Day, but this dream was very clear and vivid. So I lay in bed broodily asking myself -

Does the dream mean I'll be a bad mother?
Am I afraid I would harm a child?
How come the kid wasn't mine?
Does this mean I'll never have kids of my own - left to care for the children of others?
I never dream about babies; why am I dreaming about babies? This is my first baby dream.
Has my biological clock finally started the countdown?

And so on and so forth.

I was getting myself very worked up and was just about to call my mother at 4:37 a.m. to have her reassure me that, yes, I am a good person and would make an excellent mother, when it all became crystal clear.

On Saturday I accompanied my pregnant best friend in her search for "cute" maternity clothes. The entire time I was immersed in stores full of expectant mothers and left to peruse shelves of products that, frankly, left me a bit wide-eyed (and not in the good way). I even got to try on the sample "bump" thoughtfully provided in the dressing room, while Christy muttered evil things against maternity tops.

Relieved, I snuggled back under my warm covers and went to sleep.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

2006-10-10T08:02:00.000-07:00

Every Monday night I enter the studio, tie on my shoes, and take my place at the barre. My tap shoes are comfy and broken in, like that soft shirt from college that makes the best nightgown. The women around me smile and talk to one another.

I ask N. where she’s been. We haven’t seen her in a month. She grins and points to her barely protruding stomach. “Getting pregnant.” We laugh. The teacher puts on some warm-up tunes, counts it off, and we move in unison.

We come here for one hour a week, each of us dropping the concerns of the day at the door. The elderly mother we are taking care of, the cranky two-year-old, the leaky faucet, the budget that won’t balance, the project that won’t end – they aren’t allowed in here. This is our time, tapping out a rhythm across the hardwood floor, pretending to make the difficult look easy.

In 60 short minutes, we will be ejected back into the world of bills, car repairs, illness, and dirty dishes, but right now, this moment, is ours.

"On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet."
-Lord Byron

Huh

2006-10-03T07:10:00.000-07:00

As I collided with the steel beam that holds up my carport and scraped off the trim on the right side of my car, it occurred to me - oh, it's going to be *that* kind of day...

5 Weird Things...

2006-09-28T14:50:00.000-07:00

Allrighty, folks. I've been tagged to name five weird things you probably don't know about me.
Here goes:

1. I am a huge Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan. I blame this entirely on my younger brother, who showed up with all the episodes on DVD when he moved in. I'm in love with Giles, the librarian. And as trivia note, in 9th grade I went to school with Charisma Carpenter (Cordelia). Younger Bro and I will have Buffy marathons where we shut out the world and cycle through the seasons. Every once in a while, after a particularly difficult day, we will throw one in for some "Comfort Buffy." Hey, it's less fattening that Ben and Jerry's.

2. I must not have any light in my bedroom when I go to sleep. The blinds must be tilted at the correct angle so the sun doesn't come streaming in at 5 a.m. and wake me up. Ditto for lights on in the hallway. I can see the strip of light under my door. Hotels are a big problem as curtains don't close all the way, and I can see the hall lights on. I'm trying to work on this.

3. I've never really liked mainstream music. I grew up on Oingo Boingo, The Cure, Depeche Mode, New Order, INXS, U2, Psychedelic Furs, The Ramones, B-52s, The Squeeze, etc. Some of these bands are mainstream now, but in San Diego in the 80s, where Lisa Lisa & The Cult Jam and Debbie Gibson ruled, they were not.

4. I love decorating magazines. I especially loved the ones I got in Scotland because British design is so different. The irony is that I am a horrible decorator. It's a big accomplishment that I even have curtains in my house. I have a mental hurdle with putting pictures on my walls. I'm so afraid if I do then I'll have to move. Or that my "decor" will look amateurish. I've considered therapy to address this situation, but I'd rather spend that money on the latest Real Simple or Cottage Living.

5. I don't know that this is weird, but I'm happy being single. I write this simply because I sat next to a woman in class last night at church who, when we brought up the topic of singles in relation to our Financial Peace discussion, talked about how lonely is must be. Well, I'm not sure that I'm any more lonely than your average married person - and I've been around long enough to know a wedding band does not equal never being lonely again. I can be happy alone, and there is a big distinction between lonely and alone. Yes, I would like to get married some day, but there's just so much I've been able to do because I am single. So many people and places and experiences and memories that I would have never had. And yes, it can be tough at times, especially when you get into all the "coupley" situations and you and yourself seem to stick out like a sore thumb, but it certainly isn't some horrible pit of despair. I think, married or single, your situation in life is what you make it.

Mute

2006-09-27T13:28:00.000-07:00

Lately, it seems as if several of my close friends are coming in at the top of the life-altering stressors chart. Death, disease, health problems – things aren’t going well in their worlds.

I want to help. I want beautifully crafted words of comfort and support to fall from my lips (or flow from my typing fingers), yet I’m paralyzed with worry that I’ll say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing.

What do I say to the friend who is watching a family member die from cancer?
What do I say to the friend who miscarried? Who struggles with infertility?

Any helpful advice?

The deep things of life...

2006-09-21T10:24:00.000-07:00

It is quite possible that much of my life could be characterized by an ongoing search for a decent hair care product. In an effort to be thrifty, I bypassed my regular, expensive-but-it-mostly-works Frizz Ease Serum for a $2.99 bottle of something called No Frizz!

Normally, I don’t pay much attention to these cheap brands that try to lure me in with their exclamation marks in the logo, but I decided to take a chance. Just to kind of stick my tongue out at the Frizz Ease folks, as they know they mostly have me over a barrel, addicted to paying insane amounts for half an ounce of serum.

Sadly, No Frizz! did not live up to its perky name. It is quite evident it was perhaps made for women who consider frizz to be one or two strands escaping from a hair clip on a humid day.

My hair defies that description. It is quite curly and is never more happy than when it gets to kick up its heels and spiral and corkscrew to its heart’s content. Every once in a while I torture it with a straightening iron, thereby causing longstanding church members to introduce themselves to me and my own father to peer at me warily. “I don’t like it,” was his wordy opinion on the matter.

My mother, meanwhile, merely looks sad, as she has stick-straight hair and prayed while she was pregnant with me that her little girl would have curls (I kid you not). She simply could not understand why I work so hard to make my hair look exactly like hers while she had sought divine intervention to keep me from smooth locks.

That woman has an “in” up there, is my only conclusion on that matter.

Anyway, thanks to No Frizz! today my hair fluffy and puffy and kinking like no tomorrow. It is even a very autumn type of day, with really no great humidity, and it is having the time of its life. No restrictive serums, conditioners, or hot irons for this head. Oh no, only one small clip trying to hold the mane back from completely covering my head a la Cousin It.

It had better enjoy it. Tomorrow, it’s back to the expensive stuff again.

A Headscratcher for Monday

2006-09-18T11:20:00.000-07:00

As I entered the merge ramp on I-65 today, I saw a man standing on the side of the road. He had long hair tied back in a ponytail and held a carefully printed cardboard sign in block letters that simply stated "South." Peeking out from his Jimmy Buffet inspired shirt was a pair of distinctive white IPod ear buds, and he was bobbing his head along to the music.

Now, I know I need some financial planning help, but when your main mode of transportation is hitchiking, and when the entire contents of your life fit into a duffel bag, you have to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, that IPod purchase was technically prudent.

Update - This is what happens when you don't sleep well...

2006-09-13T06:25:00.000-07:00

You write the water company a check for the entire balance of your checking account instead of the few bucks you actually owe them.

This causes your bank account to go into overdraft fees.

*sniff*
Small puddle of tears.

*This news just in...*
A huge tip of the hat to the ladies in the Harpeth Valley Utilities District business office for-

1. Having a live person answer the phone,
2. Having that person promptly call me back when they tracked the problem down in their system,
3. Having their office CUT ME A CHECK for the overpaid amount and,
4. Having the check ready for me to pick up at their office TODAY!

Sometimes, the kindness of strangers manages to touch our lives. They made my day.

Confessions of an Insomniac

2006-09-08T11:01:00.001-07:00

For some reason, I have not been able to sleep for the past three nights. No matter how tired, the minute my head hits the pillow my thoughts begin ping-ponging around until they resemble nothing quite coherent. So for today's post I leave you with the late-night thoughts of my poor, exhausted mind:

Does anyone else think it is tacky that the inflatable children’s slide at that kiddy fair was made to look like the prow of a ship sinking? That it actually had “Titanic” printed on it? A hundred years from now will people make rides out of today’s tragedies?

It’s amazing how customized the menswear department is. They can get a pair of pants and a shirt to their exact measurements – waist, length, arm, neck and chest sizes… Why can’t women’s clothes be like that? Why can’t I buy a dress based on my exact measurements? Oh yeah, now I remember, I can. It’s called “couture,” and I can’t afford it.

I think it’s funny that Patrick has not untied his tie for the past two years. He just keeps loosening it.

I really like my Norah Jones CD.

I can’t believe Christy is pregnant. I’ll bet when I’m pregnant I will be fat all over, not like those cute women who carry a small basketball in front of them but look fashionably slim from the back.

I need to caulk the kitchen.

Have I taken on too much at church? Foreign missions committee, domestic missions committee, inner city learning center, visitation team, and now the financial peace seminar. In the spring I’m supposed to teach second graders on Wednesday nights.

Should I make nametags for the inner city class? Maybe flowers with glitter…

Does the church have a flower punch? I’m not going to sit there and cut out petals all night.

Stupid cat. I wish he’d just leave the cabinet doors alone.

Did I unplug the iron?

Should I drive or fly home for Christmas? I much prefer to fly. It’s going to be really weird if I can’t take my contact lens solution with me. Or lip balm. What if my contacts need to come out? Will I have to wear my glasses? That prescription is so old I won’t be able to see much. Maybe that’s a good thing on the plane.

I wonder how many Weight Watcher’s points are the Jim Nachos at Cancun’s?

Are my corduroy slacks clean? I think I’ll wear them tomorrow.

What’s that noise? What would I use as a weapon if an intruder came in here? My clock radio? I’ll bet I could put the lamp to good use.

Arghh! Stupid cat.

Bits and Pieces

2006-09-05T18:45:00.000-07:00

On Exercise
I’m not sure who selected the music for the women’s center at the YMCA this evening, but it was, umm, interesting. As I huffed and puffed my way through various apparatus (apparati?), “I Need a Hero” came blaring over the loudspeaker. One minute I was a simple woman working out - the next I felt like I was in some cheesy 80s workout video montage.

It was a little disturbing. But when that song finished, along came the refrain of “The Neverending Story.” I couldn’t do anything in time to that, so I sort of hummed a different song in my head, trying to think of something very upbeat and exercisy.

Happily, we ended the session with Bob Seger & the Silver Bullet Band’s “Ole Time Rock and Roll,” which kind of redeemed the whole experience in some respect.

On How NOT to Win My Heart
Please, upon discovering I was a missionary in Scotland, do not attempt to talk to me in a Scottish accent. Unless you are 100% confident you are dead-on accurate, which you weren’t, just resist the impulse. And while we are at it, let’s not put me on speakerphone, okay? It’s a little nerve-wracking when I hear you give a shout out to your buddies. Who else is in on this call?

On Shakespeare in the Park
I saw MacBeth Saturday night and nearly froze my Capri-panted rear off. Who knew the temp would plummet? Certainly not I, nor the concession stand gurus who stood forlornly trying to sell Sno-Cones while the coffee line grew progressively longer.

On Old Friends
One has known me since I was 16 and a young whippersnapper running around the beach in San Diego. The other pledged my club with me my freshman year, became my roommate my sophomore year, and has seen me through thick and thin. We got to share dinner and The Bard Saturday night, and I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect birthday treat (okay, an extra blanket would have been the icing on the cake).

The Roll of the Sea

2006-08-31T07:29:00.000-07:00

When I lived in Scotland my flat was on the harbor, looking out to the North Sea. Every day I watched the fishing boats leave the protective stone walls that encircled the harbor. It fascinated me. At night, the lights on the boats would twinkle on the dark water.

One of the fishermen once explained the boat lights to me. Every light meant something. Just by looking at the lights of a boat you should be able to tell which way it is heading, if its nets are down, what it is fishing for, and even how long it is. You needed to know how to read the lights so you could steer your own vessel to safety. When you got to the harbor, you knew that if you matched up certain lights, you could plot a straight course and not miss the harbor entrance or run into rocks or one of the stone walls. It was vital to know not only how to pilot your boat when things were bright and clear but also what to do when it was pitch black and there wasn’t a familiar landmark in sight.

The Bible is my light, my key, my chart, for plotting a straight path. And I can’t know which way to go unless I open it and read it for myself. Relying on someone else to tell me the way is like trying to steer my boat with some guy next to me yelling directions in my ear. I’m bound to get in trouble.

Boats like this are everywhere - people shipwrecked, marooned on a dangerous reef. Those who ignored the signs and are now sitting in a leaky boat, unaware they need rescuing even as the water pours in. I’ve done it myself – shoved the chart to the side, ignored the lights or refused to read them, and then wondered why I ended up so far away from my destination.

But usually it isn’t such a conscious decision to plot my own course; it’s a casual drift, day by day, that takes me from my goal. The past couple years have been a difficult time of transition and half-hearted searching. There’s been a lot of mediocrity. I didn’t realize it, but it is there.

It’s time to get my lights lined up and head home.

"Small craft in a harbour that's still and serene,
Give no indication what their ways have been;
They rock at their moorings all nestled in dreams,
Away from the roll of the sea.

Their stern lines are groaning a lullaby air,
A ghost in the cuddy, a gull on the spar;
But never they whisper of journeys afar,
Away from the roll of the sea.

Oh, had they the tongues for to speak,
What tales of adventure they'd weave;
But now they are anchored to sleep,
And slumber alee.

Come fair winds to wake them tomorrow, we pray,
Come harvest a-plenty to them ev'ry day;
Till guided by harbour lights they're home to stay,
Away from the roll of the sea."

After the Flood

2006-08-28T17:35:00.000-07:00

On Tuesday morning I was alerted to the fact that the downstairs sink was clogged up. That a faucet was left on. That the bathroom, hallway, and a couple feet of the living room were, um, soaked.

I had heard stomping around in the middle of the night, but it was my younger brother's night off (he works the graveyard shift), so I assumed all was well below (meaning, he would take care of whatever that noise was) and simply went back to sleep.

I'm kind of glad I did. That stomping was him trying to soak up excess water with every available towel. He even used some t-shirts. He soaked up like, 12 containers of water with my little Bissell carpet cleaner. He looked pretty beat when I saw him that morning.

After some tiring days of jet-engine like fans and the acrid smell of carpet drying, we are pretty much back to normal. I peeked under the bathroom carpet to check the padding and it looks okay. I did discover that the floor underneath is some kind of weird glossy brick laminate, which I did not know existed.

I'm really hoping 34 gets better....

The Last Days of 33

2006-08-22T07:10:00.000-07:00

Next Wednesday I will shed the worn out garment of my 33rd year of life and take on number 34. So how have I been spending the last precious days of 33?

Well, mostly by doing online traffic school and attending baby and wedding showers. Not exactly a stellar end to the birthday year, but it’s true. Earlier this summer I received two speeding tickets a couple weeks apart. The shame of it was that it occurred for the same offense, on the same road, at the same time of day, by the same cop.

I no longer drive that way to work. My punishment was to sit in front of my laptop and watch animated clip art and safety instructions read to me for a few hours. As I could read the screen faster than the narrator could say it, I had a lot of down time. I managed to eat my lunch and paint all my nails during the class, plus I scored a 100% on the post-course test. I still have one more to take.

And then there are the four showers I have attended in the past two weeks. It’s like I suddenly was added to the married people’s e-mail list and am getting invited to the “Second Baby” showers – the one’s not in the church but in people’s homes. I’ve enjoyed them as I rarely get a chance to talk with these women without children competing for their time. Many of them used to be in the singles group with me so it’s been great to catch up. But I’m a tad cash poor at the moment.

I knew I had really arrived when I received an e-mail from a group of women at church inviting me to their craft/hobby night. Sadly, I do not have a craft or hobby that I can tote to the fellowship hall, but I really was pleased to be invited. I told my mother about this:

“Hmm, you don’t really have a craft thing, do you? You don’t sew, or scrapbook, or anything like that.”

“No. I mean, my biggest hobby is reading. If I have a free couple of hours, that is what I love to do.”

“Maybe you could take a book, honey, and sit there and read.”

“I think that defeats the purpose of gathering together.”

“Good point.”

I love my mother.

With the school year back in swing, my dance classes began again this week. And I am happy to report that I have now tapped to “My Sharona” by The Knack and “I Love a Rainy Night” by Eddie Rabbitt. My dance teacher is nothing if not diverse in musical taste.

And maybe flying across a dance floor isn’t such a bad way to close out 33.

Handy Tip of the Day

2006-08-17T20:26:00.000-07:00

Remember to remove the sun shades on your windshield before attempting to drive out of the library parking lot.

The Great Onion Fiasco of 2006

2006-08-16T07:41:00.000-07:00

In a supreme effort to get fit and also save money by eating at home, I actually planned out some low-calorie/low-fat menus for the week. This is not easy as very few recipes are for single people and as much as I love cooking I rarely do it.

So Monday after work I forced myself into the YMCA and had a bracing workout and then rushed home to make dinner. Of course, by this point I was very, very hungry and had to steel myself against reverting to my baser instincts, i.e. boiling some Ramen noodles and having a meal ready in 3 minutes.*

I flew into the kitchen, exercising extreme self-discipline to not stuff anything and everything into my mouth, pulled out the recipe, and began to put it all together. I was making Sloppy Joes, or “Healthy Jo’s” as the cookbook referred to them.

I threw the meat in the skillet to begin browning and then turned my attention to the next item - ½ cup of chopped onions. I got excited because this meant I finally got to use my Pampered Chef cutting board and my Pampered Chef Handy Dandy Food Chopper. I got it all out, stuck the onion under the chopper, and pressed down.

In hindsight, it would have been a better idea if I had perhaps cut the onion in two or fours, as it was far too big to chop all at once. The result was that the entire onion mass became embedded up in the chopper and refused to move.

At this junction, I realized my meat needed some attention as I forgot to turn the exhaust fan on and it was burning and the kitchen was beginning to fill with ground beef smoke. After taking care of that, I grabbed a kitchen knife and attempted to extricate the onion from the chopper. No go. So I took the chopper apart and then tried to cut the onion into smaller pieces so it would come out. This was a little more successful, but the onion pieces somehow became airborne during their bid for freedom and landed pretty much all over the kitchen.

And then I inadvertently pushed the chopper into my hand.

That was extremely painful as the chopper blades were quite sharp and now I was bleeding over the onion I had worked so hard to rescue. This resulted in running my lacerated finger under the cold tap, chucking the bloody onion, and starting again with the other half.

I realized I could have skipped the YMCA entirely and used my food preparation as my workout. I was sweating just as hard.

But the end result? Entirely worth it. They were the BEST Sloppy Joe’s, made with the toil of my blood, sweat, and onion-induced tears. I leave you with the recipe:

1 lb. lean ground beef or turkey
½ cup chopped onions
1 8oz. can of Hunt’s Tomato Sauce
½ cup of chunky salsa
1 T of Splenda Brown Sugar substitute
6 Low calorie hamburger buns

Brown meat and onions in skillet. Add tomato sauce, salsa and brown sugar substitute, stirring well. Let simmer for 15 minutes, then spoon out onto hamburger buns. Serves six.

If you are doing Weight Watchers, it’s only 6 points per serving, including the bun.

*While I realize this is not exactly a meal, I really do like Ramen noodles.

Swimming in it

2006-08-10T12:02:00.000-07:00

I went to Target on my lunch break yesterday to find a simple, two-piece bathing suit to wear under my clothing for an upcoming rafting trip.

The above sentence is wrong on many levels. First, that I could find a bathing suit in under an hour. Second, that this time of year would provide me with any kind of choice, and third, that I would be presented with anything that is simple.

I know it’s all back-to-school season out there. Which explains why the racks that once offered a plethora of beachy options now showcase long-sleeved turtlenecks and sweaters. Nevermind that we will not be able to take advantage of these clothes until, say, late October.

So I was left with the paltry clearance rack. It was full of two-pieces. But these suits were mere whispers of fabric, dedicated to only covering the barest of essentials. My basic undergarments cover much, much more. Also, they featured a bewildering array of sequins, brads, buckles, and straps. Some had plastic rings (in a lovely tortoiseshell color) to hold the front and back of your bottoms together. Others had strategically cut holes marching across the front of the waistband that made me realize that bikini waxers probably do rake in some serious dough.

For the top pieces, I was left with a selection of small triangles and shoelaces to hold it all together. Clearly, these are not going to stand up to a whitewater rafting trip. Actually, it was quite clear they were not designed to hold up to anything more strenuous than flipping over seductively on an oversized beach towel.

As I have never flipped over seductively, ever, I left the store in disappointment.

I do have a good bathing suit. I spent a lot of money on it early in the season when I realized I was going to be spending some time at the beach. It has a nifty halter top that covers my tummy and a cute skirt that covers everything it is supposed to. It even has pockets (pockets! I say) to hold perhaps a key, lip balm, or stick of gum.

When I emerged in this expensive creation on the beach in North Carolina, however, I noticed something immediately. I was the most dressed person there. In fact, my fellow beach goers thought my bathing suit was actually my cover up. Never one to be brought down by peer pressure, though, I was confident in the knowledge that when I played volleyball or paddle ball or strolled the shore I did not have to constantly adjust, tug and check that I was covered. My bathing suit was going nowhere.

Where my suit let me down, however, was when I went into the ocean to jump in the waves and boogie board. When a wave washed over me my skirt would flip up while my pockets flapped about wildly, loaded with sand. So after each wave I would have a little routine of spit-water-out, flip-hair-out-of eyes, and tug-down-skirt/arrange pockets.

This gets a tad tiresome. Finally I just headed out to deeper water so no one could tell if my skirt was up or down and resigned myself to swimming with so much fabric swirling about me. I wondered if anyone had ever drowned because of excessive swimwear.

Which is why, when I go rafting on Saturday I would like something a mite less cumbersome. And so I am stuck between too much fabric or, like the choices in Target, too little. Perhaps I should just stick with what I normally wear under my clothes and be done with it. I doubt if the river will mind.