The one where we celebrate America's Birthday...

That's right. 4th of July. In honor of this auspicious holiday I've made a list.

Things You Don't Want to Hear on the 4th of July:

1. I may have started a small fire.

2. Run! That one's headed towards you!

3. Just put all the duds in a paper sack and light it on fire. Then run like hell!

4. We didn't need that tree anyway. It gets in the way of my golf swing.

5. Damn that fuse was a lot shorter than I thought!

True story. Never mix a retired ammunition's expert with a boy genius. It's frightening.

Hope you all had fun and stayed safe. I mean, someone should.
♥Spot

The one where I have random conversations...

This post will just be a jumble of some random conversations.

Me: I don't know how our bed keeps getting so messed up. Every morning the sheet is completely untucked and the comforter is balled up in the middle.

Mike: It's because they aren't flannel sheets.

Me: Duh. Because it's summer.

Mike: It doesn't matter what season it is, it's always arctic in this house.

Me: That's because I'm allergic to heat.

Mike: No one is allergic to heat.

Me: I am. Its probably very rare. I think I can get you a doctor's excuse if that will help.

Mike: How about we just put the flannel sheets back on the bed.

Me: No.

At the Doctor's yesterday~

Me: So obviously something is broken in my body. I need you to fix it. I don't have time to be feeling bad.

Dr: It doesn't work that way.

Me: Why not? I take the car to my mechanic and tell him it's broke and he fixes it. It should totally work the same way.

Dr: *rolls his eyes* I'm going to do these twenty bazillion tests...

Me: And then you better fix it. You went to school for this way longer than my mechanic.

Sean came home briefly yesterday looking for something in his room (which is also my office at the moment). He was talking to me for a few minutes and then~

Sean: You better pay attention. This is important.

Me: *turning from my desk* yes?

Sean: The blackberries are ripe.

Me: That was the important thing?! You've just told me about ten things and that was the important one I needed to pay attention for?

Sean: Blackberries don't pick themselves, you know. And cobblers don't bake themselves. My stomach thinks that makes it very important.

In the waiting room for Lu's dr visit~

Lu: What are you doing?

Me: Being bored

Lu: You're reading a magazine. How can you be bored at the same time?

Me: Because I can multitask.

Happy humpday folks,
♥Spot

The one where Sean doesn't have an eye tumor but I have crunchy knees...

Sorry to leave you hanging for a few days! I know everyone was waiting to see if Sean had an eye tumor. The answer is no. Sean does not have an eye tumor, brain tumor, or anything seriously wrong with him. And I got super busy, which seems to happen a lot lately. More about that on another blog. Now, back to our story...

As Sean and I were waiting Friday in the Nurse Practitioner's office we were bored. Obviously she's a pediatrician, so her exam rooms are full of toys, children's books and tips for new or young parents. Well, Sean wouldn't let me read him a story, so I started reading out loud the "Tips for Teeth" posted on the bulletin board. They seemed to be common sense. Brush your teeth. Floss. Get sealants. But number four was the best~

Me: "Don't put your child to bed with a bottle". Damn. Okay Sean, you're going to have to start leaving the Jack upstairs when you go to bed at night. I don't want you ruining your teeth.

Sean: Wow. You're the best parent ever.

Me: I know right? I should write a damn book!

After lunch, the expedition to Shopko, and the trip to the library, we headed back to the clinic to check in for Sean's eye appointment. We settled in the waiting room with our books. Fortunately, we didn't wait long. As we got up to follow the nurse, my knee gave a loud pop. Like a "make the people in the waiting room turn around and stare at you" pop. No big deal. Does it all the time. Not very painful, but I did notice it was grinding as I walked back to the exam room. The nurse did the usual, took the history, had him read the eye chart, looked at his eyes. Then she decided to put some drops in his eyes. Let me just explain that Sean is not a wuss. The kid has had two corneal scratches, which are supposed to be excruciatingly painful injuries, and he didn't even tell anyone for hours. I've picked gravel out of his skin and scalp from wipe outs. He's had pneumonia with 103 fever before and told me "he's fine". But he does have sensitive eyes. When he was a toddler, I had to make sure he had sunglasses on all the time. He'd get severe headaches after swimming from the light reflecting at the pool. He has very pale blue eyes and the eye doctor said that the pigment was very light and that's what made them so sensitive. I used to have to sit on him to get eye drops in his eyes. Then he got bigger than me and I gave up.

So this nurse is trying to get drops in his eyes and he's squirming. Finally, she gets them in but his eyes keep watering and watering. Then she tries to check pressure with a blue light she's shining directly in his eyes. Not going so well. So then she sticks some pen looking thing that clicks loudly in his eyes. At last, she manages to get what she needs and leaves the room. Sean is not a happy camper. So~

Me: Give me your hand.

Sean: *sticks out his hands* Why?

I place his hand on my knee, which is stretched out in front of me. Then I bend it.

Sean: *freaking the f*ck out* WTH?!! That's disgusting!!! Why would you do that?

(In Sean's defense...it is disgusting. You can feel my bones/cartilage grating when I do that)

Me: Because you aren't thinking about your eye anymore! It's called distraction. You're welcome.

Sean: OMG. I still can't believe you did that. Why didn't you warn me?

Me: Because then you wouldn't have given me your hand. Duh.

Sean: Now my knees feel weird. *he's rubbing them as he speaks*

Me: Hahaha. Mine too.

Sean: I may hate you.

Me: Whatever. You know it was a good distraction. See what a great mom I am??

The doctor comes in and sits and manages to look at Sean's eyes. He says he has cobblestones.

Me: What?

Doctor: They're bumps under his eyelid. They rub on the eye itself and can be quite painful. That's why both his eye itself and the lid were hurting.

Me: Gross. What's it from?

Doctor: It's an allergic reaction. I'm going to give you allergy eye drops and some steroid drops to help the inflammation. Use them until it feels better and then just keep on with the allergy drops. *he leaves*

Me: *giggling*

Sean: Why are you laughing?

Me: Because it's an architectural issue. Stop trying to build streets in your eyes.

Sean: *laughing* Yeah, when he said "cobblestones" I started thinking of old English streets.

Me: I know right? Weird. Guess you aren't going to be on Mystery Diagnosis after all. But hey, maybe HGTV would be interested. *I ducked the punch he aimed my way*

So then I got to go to the doctor. It wasn't really funny. She said my knee was "extra crunchy". She showed me the arthritis on my xray. Said she could do an MRI but she didn't think I'd torn any soft tissue. She told me I'd probably need a knee replacement in the future.

Me: Um. I'm not really big on surgeries. My last one was kind of a fiasco.

Her: Well, if it comes town to being in a wheelchair or having a knee replacement, I'm pretty sure you'll go with the surgery.

Me: Wow. Way to sugarcoat that for me.

She also told me that she'd happily give me a shot in the knee for the pain. Or a shot in the hip if it continued to hurt. And that I definitely needed to get the carpel tunnel surgery on my left wrist before I did permanent nerve damage. And sentenced me to physical therapy 3 freakin times a week. It was not a fun visit.

So I signed up for therapy, picked up meds and ran Sean home so he could get ready for his camp out. And I answered a few emails and then decided to meet friends for drinks and dinner. Grown up style. It was awesome. Sean's eye is pretty much all healed. The eye drops worked wonders and I don't even have to sit on him to get them in his eyes.

I've heard that several of you used our saying "that stripper is off her pole!". Sweet.

That's all for today kiddies. But you are definitely going to want to tune in tomorrow. Tomorrow...I get to offer you something. Something for putting up with me. Because I adore you all...

♥Spot

Road trip conversations or random shit we talked about while sleep deprived and stuck in a tiny car...

So as we hurtled through the alternately snow filled, rainy, foggy, where the hell did the sun go twenty hours it took us to drive to Myrtle we had some interesting fascinating completely random and ridiculous conversations. And some jamming out. Which is also known as singing loudly and off key.

We started the trip with me driving, Sean navigating, and Lu in the backseat comatose. But before she zonked out we were all in a good, okay maybe slightly hysterical mood. So as we sucked down chocolate milkshakes and hurtled forth into the night, she cranked the knob on the stereo and ordered us to "jam out". The song? "Don't stand so close to me" by The Police. Lu only knows the chorus so she chimed in there. Sean sang (and by "sang" I really mean emitted a torturously brutal and completely off key noise that probably had dogs for miles around attempting to cover their ears and whimpering) all the words and I sang along. At which point, Lu turned to me in exasperation and said~

Lu: Stop singing pretty mom! The point of jamming out is to be loud. And since you're singing with Sean it doesn't matter if you hit a single note correctly because you can be damn sure he won't.

Me: Oh. My bad.

And then later, much later, in fact I have no idea when just somewhere during the interminable car ride~

Lu: I'm going to get some Aviator sunglasses. What do you think?

Sean: That you'll look stupid. No one who's not in a uniform can pull off Aviators.

Me: except Chris Mallams. (A friend of ours and super cool guy).

Sean: True.

Me: And Captain Kirk.

Sean: He's wearing a uniform. And why would he be wearing sunglasses on a star ship?

Me: Because he can. He's just that badass. Besides those freaking stars are bright dude.

Lu: And what if they get to close to the sun? Then it would be really bright!

Sean: Our sun?

Lu: Any sun.

Me: I'm pretty sure if they get that close to a sun they're in trouble. I think it would be too hot before it got too bright.

Sean: besides, they'd just go into warp speed and get away.

Me: Wait!! Are you saying that they use warp speed to run from trouble??! Like if they're confronted by the sudden appearance of an alien ship, they'd warp away?

Sean: Only to sneak around and approach from another direction.

Me: Oh. So the aliens are like 'is that that wussy spaceship who just ran away from us? Or is it a completely new bad ass spaceship??' And then Captain Kirk comes over their screen wearing his Aviators because he could totally rock those.

At a gas station somewhere in Tennessee...Lu and I get out to pump gas and Sean goes ahead inside to use the restroom. Then comes back out.

Sean: Pipe's broke. The restroom's out of order.

Me: That's not funny Sean. You have no idea how badly I have to pee.

Sean: I'm not kidding. It's true.

*Lu and I regard him suspiciously because this is just the kind of joke he'd play*

Sean: Seriously! The guy told me I could go out back if I wanted but I said you two had to go to and you probably wouldn't be cool with that.

Me: Probably??! So not cool with that. *so we had to drive to another gas station just to use the restrooms. Awkward.*

And at a gas station somewhere in Georgia...where I was the only one who had to pee~

Me: *upon returning to the car* OMG!! Could you have picked a grosser bathroom?! I feel like I need to Lysol myself after that. There was black mold growing in the grout. *shuddering* And worse...there was this huge sign on the door that read "WOMEN ONLY!!! Men- do NOT use!!". Why would you have to put that sign up?? I swear I heard banjos!!



Lu: *giggling uncontrollably* I hope you paddled faster!

Me: Let's just say if there was an Olympic event for speed peeing, I just took the gold!

And then as we neared our destination, we were all once again in our original positions. It was dark and foggy and Sean and I were trying to navigate the twisty two lane roads to the condo, we decided to serenade Lu awake. We gave her a brilliant startling rendition of REO Speedwagon's "Keep on Loving You". Which she totally under appreciated.

More ridiculousness is headed your way tomorrow. Because that's how we roll, yo.
♥Spot

So there Universe, take that!

Yesterday morning = the morning from hell. Seriously. Monday morning around my house means very little. I mean hubby works from home and his job is pretty much 24/7 so there's no Monday. In fact, weekends are his busiest time so Monday kind of equals Wednesday for him or something vaguely resembling that analogy. Lu works retail so again no real Monday thing. Sean is home schooled and we don't really do set routines so we might work on whatever day starts our fancy. In fact, my foster son is the only one who has anything resembling a normal schedule (man, that has got suck monkey balls). So I don't dread Mondays at all. That does not stop Monday from messing with my head. It's like that thing that some religious people say "you may not believe in God, but he still believes in you" only replace "God" with "Monday" and "believes" with "hates".

First off, the cat wakes us up two minutes before my husbands alarm, by jumping on the nightstand and knocking all my crap (cell phone, books, glasses, lamp, clock) off of it. Then it takes forever to get hubby moving (it's the Monday curse). Which means that I am now awake which translates into "Shit. Now I have to pee." Then I look out the window and realize it snowed. And it's really cold in the house. So by the time I crawl back into bed, I'm shivering. Takes a minute to warm up and drift back off. Twenty minutes later, one of the cats is back and she's nuzzling my face. She gets a push and I pull the covers over my head. An hour later I can hear Hubby warming something up in the microwave. (Did I mention he's the 2nd noisiest person on the planet?) I glance at the clock and realize it's 7:30 and I listen. Nope. Noisiest person on the planet, aka foster son, aka Bobby is not up. I shiver my way into the kitchen to confront my husband.

Me: How come you didn't wake Bobby up? He has school! And it's going to take him extra drive time because it snowed?! I reminded you before you got out of bed!

Hubby: Relax, it's only 7. I have time.

Me: *walking backwards five steps to check the time on the thermostat* um. No. It's 7:30.

Hubby: Really? Wow I must have lost track of time. I'll go do it now.

I return to my warm cocoon, pondering how you lose track of time when you're watching one of those morning programs that has the time in the bottom left hand corner of your TV??! Then Bobby races upstairs, brushes his teeth, combs his hair, and slams out of the house in a whirlwind of very noisy activity. Would it kill that kid to shut the bathroom door in the morning?? Or not slam the front door?? I shake my head in frustration and drift back off...for twenty minutes. Then I awake to the sound of a cat digging their claws into the carpet in my bathroom. I lift my head. It's Axel. My insane cat. I go in and make her stop and realize that some kitty has decided to pee on the rug by the toilet. Gah!!! Earlier in the year, one of our kitties passed away from a kidney disease. But before she took her leave she managed to pee in various spots all over my carpeted house. I spent days cleaning carpets to get the smell out. I spent weeks shutting doors to keep the other kitties from those spots. We hadn't had a problem in months. Now, I know it wasn't Axel who committed the misdeed even though she was the one trying to cover it up. This cat is so anal about using the litter box that she wouldn't even use the one I set up for her in our family room when she was confined there with her kittens. She would paw the door to get out and go use the box downstairs. So I have no idea who the culprit is, but I'm pissed. And awake.

So I start to go to the kitchen for coffee, when I pass by my family room and realize some kitty has pooped on the throw rug in there. The hell??! I yell "who pooped in the family room??!" as though the responsible kitty would come forward. Sean (who is sitting in the family room on the computer and has quite obviously missed the pile of poop) turns around, spies it, and says "I was wondering why it smelled like ass in here! Oh, and I got an email that the IRS rejected my tax submission". Bloody Hell!! I get the stuff. I clean up the kitty potty messes. I glare balefully at every kitty I pass. I get coffee and head to the computer. The email says the IRS rejected the submission because the W-2 was not filled out correctly. The hell it wasn't! I log on to the freefile site and check. Yep. Filled in correctly. Stupid freakin bureaucrats. I think they just like to reject things for fun. So I redo and resend. Then I log into blogville and come up for air four hours later. Thankfully, Sean has brought me a bowl of cereal sometime in there.

Around this same time, Lulu finally drags herself out of bed. She, like her father, could sleep through the house burning down around them.

Me: Good morning princess sunshine! I'm about to make lunch. You want chicken salad or Tuna?

Lu: Tuna. It snowed.

Me: It's still snowing. The weatherman said it's just going to be flurries. No accumulation.

Lu: *looks out window again. Looks at me perplexed.*

Me: yeah, I know. Flurries on steroids. And there's an inch out there, Dad measured. It's just the latest in the Universe's attempt to send me a message.

Lu: *still looking perplexed, having slept through my horrible morning*

Me: It's been a screwed up horrible morning. I'm pretty sure the Universe was saying "Take some painkillers and go back to bed." But I don't like being told what to do, so I didn't. I fixed things. So there Universe! Take that. Flip off!!

Lu: you know you're really weird, right?

Me: *I grinned* Weird is a matter of perception.

Today was my husband's message from the universe in the form of snow drifted roads and the dishwasher backing up and overflowing all over the kitchen floor. He didn't take it lying down either. Up yours Universe. We do what we want.

♥Spot

Notes from the road...

Hey-ho everyone! We made it to Ohio safely (because I drove...Lu is scary). I will try to blog every day but yeah, you know how it goes, may not happen. I'm also trying to work through all the blogs I subscribe to and comment but it's slow going. So if I miss yours, do not get your feelings hurt, I'll get there eventually. And by eventually, I totally mean sometime this decade. Mmmmk?

Also, I'm using Lu's laptop and it has buttons in weird places so I'm really slow, constantly hitting something wrong and losing my cursor. And I'm in a hurry, because we are going to the best book store ever today (half price books...the name says it all!) and we have to leave and be back at specific times in order to get my niece off the bus. Which sounds suspiciously routine to me. Poor Hildi...bound by convention! She also lives in a subdivision and I don't sleep well. All the weird noises wake me up (you know like cars...don't hear that much at my house.)

Well, Hildi just hollered that there are cinnamon rolls and coffee...so as much as I love you guys...breakfast calls! I do have some funny convos from the road and I promise to get them blogged later...

Road trip= blog fodder.

♥Spot

I'm just a blogger...

So let's just be up front honest and truthful here...it took me a long time and alot of therapy to learn not to base my self worth on the opinion of others. That they're approval didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things. That I was the only one I was responsible too and that likeing myself was far more productive than wanting everyone else to like me. I was a serious "people pleaser". I stopped blaming my parents for my woefully inadequate sense of self esteem because well, they're just human and parents do the best they can at the time. So in conclusion, I do not blame my parents for the low self esteem I once had, my intense need to be liked, or anything else. But they also don't get the credit for the amazing self confidence, my comfort in my own skin, or my "I could care less what you think" attitude. I worked hard for those and they are all mine. And with any luck, I fostered those same qualities in my children. However, in Sean's case I may have "overdid".

So bearing all of that in mind...we begin our story...

The other day I received an email from Kathryn asking if I'd checked on my Kindle subscriptions lately. She said that I was ranked higher than she was (how this happened, neither of us can figure out because she has a gazillion followers) so I must have some subscriptions. Well, I really hadn't expected much to come out of the Kindle subscriptions so I hadn't checked in well, like, ever. In fact it had been so long I totally forgot my password. So once I went through the total hullabaloo of changing my password, ect., I logged on and wow! I did have Kindle subscriptions! People were ordering my blog!!! I did the happiest of happy dances (which is also probably the most goofy of happy dances) and happily replied back to Kathryn, that yes, I did indeed have subscriptions. And then I sat in happy, yet stunned silence. As there was no one else home at the time, I cradled my pride quietly in my arms and grinned like an absolute idiot. Someone thought enough of my writing to pay (okay, so it's not much, but any amount is more than free) to view my ramblings. To me, that says "paid writer" all over it. And you cannot (well, maybe you other aspiring writers can) imagine how encouraging this turn of events is, nor how inspiring. Thank you to all of my readers, but thank you thank you thank you to the nameless faceless masses who subscribe via Kindle. Okay, there's not really enough subscribers to be called "masses" but it's called poetic license. Work with me here people. And the best part...I don't even know anyone (besides Mark) who has a Kindle so it can't be like, you know, just my friends and family!

So here's happy little me, dancing around my kitchen as I prepare supper. The guys come in from hunting and I announce "Y'all ought to avoid the rush and start worshipping me now. You know, before I get famous". (This was also my FaceBook status of the day.) They of course just kind of chuckle because they are used to me being a drama queen. But then I explain, and they are appropriately awed and encouraging. I tell Lu later that night and she too is ecstatic for me. My friend J? Also Encouraging. So the next day I call my folks to check in with them. And I casually drop my big news into the conversation with my Dad. And I say "so now, I'm officially a paid writer". And he says "No you're not. You're just a paid Blogger." Um. The hell?! There's a difference?? He proceeds with "you don't think you're like Stephen King or anything, right?". Um. NO. DUH. He's Stephen freakin King. But how is writing my blog for readers and subscribers different from an essayist in a magazine? I write, I edit, I spend a frankly astonishing amount of time and thought on my blog. And he says "well, when you're published in a magazine, let me know." AAAAAGGGGGHHHH! I wanted to bang my head on my desk. It just brought rushing back all of the "it's never quite good enough" feelings of inadequacy. Like when I'd bring home a report card filled with A's and one lone B and I'd hear "what happened here?" instead of "Oh my god...you're a genius". But then I breathed in deeply through my nose ten times and changed the subject. Then I called my sister. When I told her, she was almost as excited as I had been. I told her Dad's reaction. She said he was kidding. I said, no he was in fact quite serious. She said well maybe he didn't have a firm grasp on blogging. That he & mom had only ever read our joint blog and it wasn't the same. That was just like letters to each other while this blog was more "professional". (Frankly, I have no idea what she means but I'll roll with it.) When I hung up I went to fix supper (man, do I ever do anything else??) and hubby came in and asked why I seemed angry. So I told him. And he laughed. And then I laughed. Because you know what? It makes no difference. I know what I do and it's good enough for me. And nobody is stealing my sense of validation. Nobody. And someday, when I am published by my father's standards, I'll think "in your face buddy", but of course I won't say it, because I'm completely sure that it won't quite be good enough.

♥Spot

Mmmm....Gerard Butler...

So I don't have alot of time today, but I promise a longer post tomorrow. I have to go into town in the midst of this blizzard because both Lu and Hubby have dr. appts. And since I can only get Hubby to the doctor like once a year, no way am I canceling! So instead of my planned post which has been unceremoniously bumped to tomorrow's schedule, I give you the following conversation~

Picture this...I'm sitting here on the computer diligently reading and commenting on blogs. Sean is drinking coffee and watching the Today show on the TV in here. Lu is in my bathroom, curling her hair. Now, my bedroom is directly across the hall from this room and the bathroom is located just off the bedroom. Therefore, it is possible to have all three of us in the conversation (if we shout. which we often do).

Sean: Wow. Gerard Butler got fat.

Me: What??! No way.

Sean: Look! Quick...look at the TV.

Me: (twisting around in my chair like a pretzel to view the screen. A picture of Gerard from 300 and a picture of "fat" Gerard. Gone were the rock-like washboard abs and add some love handles) Oh he doesn't look that bad! Besides I still love him.

Lu: (shouting from the bathroom) what about Gerard?!

Me: they think he got fat.

Sean: He did get fat.

Lu: So? He probably just took a break from working out. He'll lose it.

Me: Yeah, it was the holidays, everyone gains some weight. They should cut him some slack.

Lu: Exactly. Poor Gerard.

Me: Besides, he's still got that awesome accent and those killer eyes.

Lu: Mhm.

Me: I could work that extra weight off him no problem!

*silence*

Me: I just totally killed this conversation, didn't I? My bad.

Lu: Um yeah. Because I was totally picturing me & him and then you...and um...yeah. Eew.

Sean: I was picturing me & him and um...oh shit...did I say that out loud?

*convulsive giggling on all parts*

Sean: (shouting) what's that Dad? You need me to hammer something? Monster trucks and football!!*

Sean: Oh...look Jessica Simpson got fat too.

Me: (once again with the pretzel antics) Yep. She's fat.

Lu: Oh yeah. She is.

Ever wonder why we willingly cut men slack and not women?? Guess we're mean girls.


*Now, for the record, Sean is not into guys like that. Well, not as far as I know, and I wouldn't have a problem with it. He just says things like that for the laugh. And the laugh is NOT at the expense of gay people. The laugh is at the expense of men, who after saying something that might be deemed homosexual, suddenly launch into macho displays of how manly they actually are. I just wanted to set the record straight. No pun intended. My gosh...I just keep making it worse...I'm going to quit now...and just hope everyone gets a laugh out of it...

♥Spot

Can you put that on a t-shirt?

OMG! I think I finally finished catching up. Maybe. I've spent hours the last two days reading and commenting and reading and trying to catch up on all the posts I've missed over the last four days. If I missed one of yours or failed to comment or something, please accept my humble apologies. It was purely accidental not an intentional slight. Pinkie swear!

So as a NaNoWriMo update...yeah I didn't get to 50,000 words by the deadline. But that's okay with me. I had way too much going on in November to try to do that. I did accomplish something I had never been able to do before and that was to actually start a novel. I put more words on paper than ever before. I got into it. And that is valuable to me. I won't just let it go. I will finish this novel. Because I love the main character and I love the story (okay, there's totally something perverse about loving a scary novel where there's such blatant evil, but that's how I roll). So I am totally on track. I won't get much writing time in December due to Christmas and apparently my birthday is turning into something of a big deal. Also I'd like to spend some time polishing some short stories and getting them submitted. But I will finish it. So thank you NaNoWriMo for what you did give to me, a swift kick in the pants to set me on the journey that is writing a novel. Oh and next year...yeah, I'm kicking your ass NaNoWriMo...so be ready.

My bday? Apparently, my sister wanted to come here, but can't so my children are sending me there. Sean and I are going to drive up the weekend before my bday and stay a couple of days. I was totally prepared to let my entrance into the next decade of my life slide quietly by with maybe a pedicure or haircut to celebrate. Apparently, that is not to be. My sister is railroading a celebration. I guess I'm down with that. I mean who doesn't like a celebration? Especially as I've been promised a peppermint chocolate chip shake from Chick-fillet. Wild, huh? We don't have one of those anywhere near us and we saw a commercial. I believe my eyes glazed over in delight and so Hildi promised me one for said bday. And if I add Vodka when I get back to her house? Even better baby. Plus it's another road trip with Sean. You can bet I'll be stocked with some serious blogging material. Lu tried to get off but no luck. C'est la vie! (Sean and I are getting ready to learn French...so I'm practicing).

Okay, so Hildi and I played a game while she was here. I read a blog the other day that was talking about a woman wearing an Edward (from Twilight) tshirt. I said I would wear a Stephen King tshirt. I would wear it until it had holes in it! I was thinking of one with his face on it (duh) but Hildi started making up ones with sayings on them. Things from his books. Then we started laughing because only hardcore fans like our family would even know what the reference was to. So people would stare at us. Which would of course, be half the fun. So in the interest of fun on a Monday (totally alien concept I know!) I'm giving you a quiz...guess the book that the saying refers too. Email me your answers and don't forget to vote on your favorite one. I'm totally going to have it made into a tshirt.

1. I hear the shells.
2. I survived Chester Mills.
3. I got bitten in the 'Lot.
4. Here's Johnny!
5. Duddits vs. Mr. Grey and the Shit Weasels
6. Redrum
7. I'm a fan of sideways thinking
8. Don't piss off your fans.
9. Nice doggy.
10. I buy ghosts online.*

*this one is actually from his son's book. It's like a bonus. =]

So there you go. If you feel like playing, please do. If you don't, it's okay to shake your head and wonder what the hell is wrong with me. Lots of people do!

mondays & superfandom,
♥Spot

Like nanny-nanny-boo-boo. Only for writers.

NaNoWriMo...betcha can't say it three times fast! And please, not in my presence. So I signed up for the NaNoWriMo thing. Why you ask? Because I'm a glutton for punishment? Because who doesn't like starting the holiday season already completely bug eyed and sleep deprived? Because...well...because I wanted (still want) to write a novel. And being taunted and pressured has always worked well for me. Really, I'm that girl who got up at 6 am the morning a paper was due and cranked it out in two hours and got an A+, even though others worked on theirs for two weeks and didn't pass. Writing is just what I do. Always have. From the minute I picked up my first crayon and learned to write my name. It's an obsession. I don't write because I want to, I write because I have to. I have dozens of old notebooks filled with bits of writing. A scene here, a dialogue there, an old poem. I breathe, therefore I write. And it's not always good. And it's not always worth saving. Some of it is major crap. But I keep it because who knows, maybe it'll will be inspiration.

I've always wanted to write a novel. I've written poems. I'm really comfortable with short fiction. But a novel seemed like such a stupendous task. That's a lot of words. And a lot of time. And for what? Just because you finished doesn't mean anyone is ever going to read it. See the writing gig seems to me like a crap shoot. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. No promises. No guarantees. And honestly, I was super afraid. What if I sat there and nothing came out. And actually, that's never ever happened to me. But the fear is still there. Or what if I started and didn't finish? That seems like an epic fail. Or what if it's no good? I had a million reasons not to try. Until NaNoWriMo. So now that I've started? It's good. And it's fun. I still procrastinate. I'm still behind in my word counts. My plot has taken on a new twist. My characters seem to have a mind of their own. And I'm constantly asking people "what if"? And it feels good.

Now one thing I've always loved is when writers (especially my all time number one favorite, Stephen King) include how they thought of a particular story. Or how they write. You know, what helps them get the ole creative juices flowing. I think it's fascinating to find out how creative people create. So browsing the web last night while trying to sign in to NaNo (don't know whether it was the site or my computer but something wasn't cooperating) I came across this article, How To Write a Great Novel. And it was filled with authors (none of whom I'd ever read but apparently prize winners) and how they write. It was amazing. And the most comforting part? They're all scared. They all have the same insecurity about what if the words don't come? So obviously, I'm in good company. Although I was a little scared by the amount of planning and plotting some do and the elaborate methods. I mean I have a few scribbled post its but no super color coded outline!!

The other thing I pondered last night was when exactly do you call yourself a writer? See to me, I've always thought that it wasn't fair to call yourself a writer until you'd been paid for your work. Or published. Had some kind of recognition of your craft. When people ask what I do, I never say "oh, I'm a writer". I tell them I'm a Domestic Goddess. But I found tons of blogs and homepages through NaNo of other people who do call themselves writers even though they've never published. This is a dilemma for me. Really. Hubby says that since I had poetry published in high school and college newspapers I get to call myself a writer. But I don't know. Maybe I'm still waiting on the validation. What does anyone else think? Do you call yourself a writer? And if so, why? If not, why not? What inspires you? How do you write? Where do you write? Fascinate me...

happy writing to all,
♥Spot

What have I done???

Oh My Goddess! What have I done?! What insanity possessed me the other night? Can I blame it on the moon? The lateness of the hour (it was midnight after all!)? What possessed my foggy little brain to commit to something like this? Something so terrifying?

So now you’re all sitting around wondering “what the hell did Spot do?”. Did she finally fall off the deep end and hold the pillow over hubby’s face because he wouldn’t quit snoring? Did she sleepwalk into the kitchen and eat all the cookies? Buy a baby off the black market? What did she do? Um…let me just assure you if was none of the above. It was far worse. (yes, worse than murdering my hubby, I mean people do stuff like that all the time, right?) I signed up for…wait for it…NaNoWriMo.




What was I thinking??? All I can say in my defense was that it was midnight and for some reason I was feeling confident that I do have a novel just waiting inside me. And that if I didn’t do something drastic, it might never get out. I’d just keep procrastinating and saying I didn’t have time.

For those of you who haven’t joined “the cult” as Jessica (who did not add me to her blogroll but whatever) called it, the concept is deceptively simple. You begin anytime after midnight on November 1st (today people!). And end on or before midnight on November 30th (29 short days away). You must write 50,000 words. No, no prizes (although you do get a cool web badge and some bragging rights). Nobody even reads your novel unless you let them by posting excerpts. You are not supposed to edit, just spew forth words. (Kind of like mind vomit through your fingers). The idea is just to get yourself going through the sheer volume of writing you’re producing. Doesn’t sound bad, right? Well it didn’t at midnight Friday night anyway.

But this morning, I’m sitting here staring at the blank piece of paper on the screen in front of me in abject terror. Seriously, I’m nauseous. And my head hurts. And I think I might vomit or hyperventilate. Or both. Which would be really messy. And I might choke. I have stage fright I(or writer fright) in the worst way. I’m petrified that the words might not come.

And if you break it down…50,000 words in 30 days comes out to roughly 1666 words a day. Which might not seem like much…but considering The Spell is 2233 words and took days to write, it’s a lot of pressure. Besides, there will be days I can’t write. Like Thanksgiving. Who the hell picked November??? November is a busy month. Why not March. Nothing happens in March and there are still 30 days.

Oh my…I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Alright…I have to at least try. I’ll be back….

****

I’m baaaacccckkk! And guess what? I deed it (yes, I spelled it that way on purpose. Because that's how it sounded when I said it.)! I really did. I gave myself two hours of uninterrupted time to start my novel and write my 1666 (give or take) words and I just jumped right in. And wrote. And wrote some more. And then some more. Until I finally stopped at 2253 words. I know right?! I’m feeling pretty awesome right now. I might even write some more later, because the story just started flowing and I could see the whole thing in my head. And if Sean hadn’t come in to get jeans out of the closet and made me lose my train of thought…I might have been able to keep going. But maybe not.

So anyway…I’m off to do those mundane everyday tasks that I’m going to have to do at least until I finish this novel and sell it and become rich and famous. Or con someone else into doing them. Hope you all had a great Halloween!
And any encouragement you’d like to send my way on this whole NaNoWriMo thing will be greatly appreciated!!

Do you think I can call myself a writer yet?
♥Spot

It's all about me...

So, a couple of days ago, OK, it was Wednesday, I posted that Sparky had given me another kreativ blogger award. Well, I want to be sure and do the things I need to so that I can post it. Which means I get to tell you guys another 7-10 things about me. How excited are you?! I know right! Anywho...just a few other things first...

1.) Do not go see Paranormal Activity in theaters. It is not the scariest movie ever made so that is some seriously false advertising. It's not even the second scariest movie ever made. Sean and Michael (Mo's ex-bf) went with me to see it and they both thought the entire first hour and a half were boring. I didn't mind it so much because I'm one of those people who likes to just watch other people. But seriously the ending was the only scary part. Plus it was predictable and the guy was irritating. Please, guys, if your gf is being stalked by a demon, lets not assume your BA enough to taunt it and take it on. Because seriously, it's a demon. Like from hell. You will not win this battle. Just saying...

2.) Please go and visit my daughter's new blog. She is Lulu of Life, Love and Luluness. I helped her out with the first one, interview style. I do promise she will be entertaining.

3.) Tune in tomorrow for my Halloween post. I have promised Mark a scary story.

Okay...back to moi...

1. I was voted "most likely to get divorced" in high school. Seriously. I had a habit of dating someone for two weeks and then getting bored. Really, it was just all about the chase for me. I plotted conquests like a campaign general. And I usually got whatever boy I set my sights on. (did I mention I was younger, thinner and prettier then??). One of my ex's coined the name "The Ice Princess" and it stuck. Of course, it only boosted my popularity because every boy wanted to be the one who managed to hold my heart. I'm no longer proud of this and I only mention it here so that I can say...prediction unfulfilled...I've been married 20 years in February. Stick that in your yearbook!!

2. I am an awesome cook. I refuse to be modest about it because well why should I be? Everyone should be really good at something, right? I really enjoy cooking, and I like it best when there is a large group at the table. So that there are more people to enjoy it! I really like new recipes that I either found or made up. I cook alot, not just because I enjoy it, but because it's cheaper then frozen food or fast food. I'm also a budget cook. I can do a really good meal for a price well below what you'd pay at a restaurant. It's almost like a game with me. Like name that tune? Only it's cook that meal. Haha.

3. I almost became a psychiatrist. I majored in Psychology my first time in college and wanted to be a psychiatrist. People always told me their life stories anyway. Figured I should get paid for it! Switched majors to English when I went back to school after having the kids.

4. My 19 year old son, CJ, has autism. He is amazing. Having him in my life completely changed who I am. I am a way better person now. He taught me compassion and empathy on a whole new level. The divorce rate for parents of autistic children is 80%. It is hard on the entire family. But I firmly believe CJ's disability is what cemented our relationship. When we got his diagnosis we were sitting in a behavioral pediatrician's office two hours from our home. I was 6 months pregnant with our third child. I was 23, Hubby was 21. The doctor said "your child has all the classic signs of autism" and I promptly burst into tears (psychiatric background remember?). Hubby looked at me and said "is it that bad?" and I nodded "yeah, it's that bad" at which point he teared up. It's one of the few times I have ever seen my extremely manly husband cry. I had never loved him more then I did at that moment.

5. I still love my husband. After nearly 20 years and all we've been through, he's still my rock. He drives me crazy probably 90% of the time. He's nowhere near the boy I married. Some changes were for the good. Some were for the bad. But when it comes down to it...if I'm hurt or scared or sick...there's nobody else I run to. And isn't that what love is about?

6. I really really like my children. They are some of my best friends. I choose to spend time with them not because I have to, but because I want to. No one gets me like they do.

7. I sew. Yeah, like from scratch. I can make things. I know it's kind of a lost art and not alot of people do it anymore, but I enjoy it. I have a machine and I can sew by hand (although threading a needle seems to get harder every year). Until my kids were teenagers I handmade every costume they had for Halloween. Except 1996. I had a staff infection in my lung that year and spent most of the month in bed. They were so freakin excited about their store bought costumes. Ingrates.