And LIFE again.

I feel like I've been riding a roller coaster of schtuff the past few weeks. I'm wondering if it's ever going to end. But then, if it ends, I guess that means that it's OVER, right? I don't think I'm quite ready for that, so I'm just pretending to be Honey Moon, riding Black Thunder these days, hanging on for dear life, riding out the dips and the drops, waiting to hit the top of the mountain and be able to touch God again. If you have any idea what I'm talking about, good for you. All you other people - you need to READ more, man. If you want a list of decent books, let me know!

The final burial service for my friend was today. I didn't go. I would have gone. Maybe even should have gone. But seriously, his funeral service last week was rough. Way rough. It was even harder to sit in church on Sunday morning and watch his beautiful wife, struggle through her first Sunday morning church service without him. I almost didn't make it. The only thing that kept me there was seeing her strength. But let me tell you, there were times when I had to really remind myself that there is a Perfect Plan in all of this. It's hard not to question. Really. Really. Hard.

However, my reason for not going today are different. You know that I've all but gone underground the past few weeks. I can't tell you how much your love and support has meant. From the daily e-mails from some of you, to the PERFECT 'sympathy' cards (yes, it IS the perfect card, don't even think twice about it McB!), to the well placed (answer your damn phone) calls, to everything in between, you guys have been awesome. Thanks for letting me just be. I needed it.

But now I need to start getting on with things. And that means getting back to doing what I like to do. Which means helpig people that need it. So, today I spent the day at Bethesda with a friend, while she went through her first radiation treatment. The drive was long, but very fun. The waiting room was not too cold. The lunch after was wonderful. And she's doing GREAT. Thanks so much for all of your prayers about her. She reminded me, in that special way that she has, that there is still a lot of living left to do here. She's fought so hard to hang on to life, it just doesn't seem right to wallow in my sorrow any longer.

On the downside, the past few weeks have brought a few more hard knocks. My brother is going through a certain amount of turmoil in his life. Please keep him in your thoughts. His ex-girlfriend just found out she's got Lupus. Keep her in your thoughts as well. A friend at work learned that a recent mammogram reveals something, and will have to have a biopsy. Pray for her please. Another very dear friend is having some fairly serious health issues, and another friend is going through a very difficult pregnancy.

All in all, it seems like every day has brought a new set of challenges, one right after the next. I feel like I've gone 15 rounds against Tyson lately. I come to grips with one issue just to have a new one pop up the very next day. It's been exhausting, to say the least. Today is the first day in almost a week that I've even been on the computer. I literally haven't checked e-mail since the weekend, and that's saying a lot for a person that generally checks it every few minutes. So if you've sent me something in the past few weeks, please be patient as I wade through the 800 or so that have accumulated while life has been knocking around the people I love most. I've set aside some time this week to sort through stuff that I've been pushing aside, and I will try my hardest to get back on track.

In the midst of all of this, work has been keeping me busy. For a job that's supposed to be 'part time' I've been spending a ridiculous amount of time up there. Yes, I know I said I was going to quit, so stop grumbling, ok, Char? I will when I can. I want to save some cash for the long dry months of summer, when I plan to be writing my fingers to the bone in preparation for New Jersey. I have to have a story done by then.

I've got to take the kids off to church now. Tomorrow I'm running a training class at work. On Friday, it's All About Dee Day. Which means I plan on spending lots of time online, getting out a questionaire to a brilliant writer that agreed to be my FAB Pick over on the book review site, clearing off my old computer and getting everything loaded onto the Mac, and maybe even sneaking out to get a pedicure. Who knows. I may even blog again. Til then though, know that you guys are awesome, I love you all, and please keep the following people in your thoughts and prayers:

Ron, Shelley, Renee, Pat, Danny, Caroline, Sarah, Kim, Kelly, Kimber, Jessica, and me.

Loss

It sometimes amazes me how time has a way of changing your perspective on things. A few weeks ago, I was walking on air. Today, I feel like my heart is in pieces.

A very dear man is gone from my life today.

A friend from church went in to the hospital for a very routine surgery on Thursday. On Friday morning, he slipped into a coma. Today, we gathered at the hospital while his family said their goodbyes.

I don't have the words to express the heaviness of my heart today.

I would like to say that I understand that death happens. That sometimes it is just a person's time to go to be with the Lord. I know that's true, but when it's someone that you know, someone that you love, those words are very little comfort.

My friend leaves behind a wife that adores him, a strong oldest daughter, an amazing son, and a wonderful youngest daughter. They are all grown, but their adulthood will do little to lessen their pain. He also leaves behind many other family members, friends, co-workers, and church family. We are all in shock, and have barely begun to believe that he is really gone.

When something like this happens, you have to deal with it in your own way. Yes, there will probably be anger, and confusion, and sorrow. But there may also be joy. We know that this man is with the Lord today, and we can rejoice in that. We know that, given the choice of life here or being in Heaven, he would choose Heaven. We can rejoice in that. The sorrow comes with knowing that he will be gone from our lives, for a season. That hurts. Oh my soul, it hurts so much.

Please keep his family in your prayers. Please pray that they will have the strength to deal with his loss. Please hold tight to your own loved ones today. Give them a kiss. A hug. Tell them you love them. Don't hold back that love. Share it.

If you don't hear from me for a while, just know that I'm dealing with this in my own way. I'll be back here when I'm ready.


I miss you, my friend. I miss you so much!

Random Acts of Kindness

There are days when I have a million things on my plate, when it will take more hours than a day consists of just to complete half of my tasks, days when I've got a mission, or a list of things that MUST get done, days when I need to write.
Then there are days, you know? When I forget that the world does not, in fact, revolve around me. That this planet does not spin just for me to accomplish my goals. That other people, yes, other than me, are important. Even as important as me. Hard to imagine, I know, but it's true.
Guess which kind of day I had?
Yeah, I got slapped with a big ol' dose of reality today. I was reminded, in a rather obvious way, that my purpose here on earth is really NOT to accomplish MY goals. Sheesh. Sometimes, I think it would be much easier to be a Christian if I could just manage to get around that whole 'strive to be like Christ' part of it. Because Christ? He was a pretty impressive guy. And trying to be like him? Yeah, it ain't easy. Not even close.
What am I babbling about? Well, I'll explain.
Some of you know my husband. Some of you have only read about him. For those that don't actually know him, I can only hope that I have led you to understand that he is an incredible man. Really, he's quite possibly the very best man that I've ever met. The only other man in my entire life that can even hold a candle to my husband is my Papa, my grandfather, and as I don't actually remember ever meeting him (he was just always there, you know?) that leaves my man as the very best of the best. He does things like send me e-mails from the train at 5am, knowing that I generally check e-mail before I start writing in the mornings, just to say "You're beautiful", even though I look nothing even close to beautiful when I'm reading those e-mails. And he knows it. He'll bring me flowers. On a Tuesday. That isn't my birthday. Or anniversary. Or anything other than a Tuesday. Just because he says they were pretty and made him think of me. He always makes his first call of the day in the mornings, and before anything else, he asks "Are you writing yet? I wanted to call before you started writing." Because he knows how hard it is for me to get back into a scene once I've been interrupted by the phone. He travels two hours each way to work, so we make enough that I don't really have to work, and still doesn't complain when my part-time sanity job means I'm not home every night. And those are just the things he does for me.
For other people? Yeah, he's just as wonderful. At least once a week, he spends his lunch money buying food for a homeless person in DC. He always stops at accidents. He has, literally, given the shirt off his back to someone that needed it. If he has something and someone else is in need, he gives what he has. That's just the kind of man he is. The very best kind.
Sometimes, it's really hard being married to someone so good. I mean, this man goes without lunch so homeless people can eat. He donates money to just about anyone with a cause. He's kind, and thoughtful, and caring. How can you complain about him running out of lunch money early, knowing that he gave it away to someone that was hungry? And he witnesses to people about the Lord in a way that I've never been able to do. Really, he's out there, every day, living the Gospel. Showing love, and patience, and honesty, and kindness. That's a lot to deal with on a daily basis. If I didn't know that he was human, it would be scary. No, he's not perfect. He has his flaws, I know. But still, in the big scheme of things, he's pretty dern great.
Today, I saw him in action again. We're in the middle of our annual Missions conference at church. Missionaries have been there all week long, preaching and sharing and hoping for support and prayer. I went to church early to help set up for the banquet, he stayed home a bit longer to finish homework. On his way to church with 3 of the kids, he saw a man walking along the side of the road. He dropped the kids off at church and went back for the man. Yes, he even picks up hitchhikers. When I asked him about this, he explained that he doesn't do it all the time, only after he prays, and never with kids in the car. Kind, but not stupid, ok?
So he picks up the hitchhiker and brings him to church. There's a banquet, so the man gets fed. Then my husband gave him a Bible, and invited him to stay for the sermon. He stayed. Then the guy took a shower at the church. This is where the story takes an almost unusual turn though. See, hubby had a date with the boys to go to the movies. Plans had been made for weeks, tickets already bought, boys already hyped. So how to get the hitchhiker to where he needed to be was the new problem. He wasn't going all that far, just a little over a hundred miles up the road, to Frederick, MD. Do you see where this is going?
I got to do the deed. Me. I got to finish what my husband started. I drove the man where he needed to go. Why? What on earth would possess me to allow a stranger in my van and truck him 100+ miles up the road? Did I lose my mind?
Not quite. Actually, I think I found my heart.
Tonight, the missionary said that part of our job as a Christian is to "go". He didn't say we had to go to Africa, or Brazil, or Crete. He didn't say we had to leave our country, or even our state. He just said our job was to "go", to take the Word to the world, to people that need it. To find a way to make a difference.
Well, I'm not a preacher. I'm not able to go to the Congo and reach tribal peoples. I can't start a church overseas. But tonight? Yeah, I could "go". It took some time, and some gas, and a bit of faith, but tonight? I got to "go". It wasn't that far. I know that. I drove farther for a booksigning event recently (though, admittedly, not much farther). But it was far enough. It made a difference, to that man and his children that he was going to see. It made a difference.
My husband's ability to see a need in a man on the side of the road opened up a door for me to take a step closer towards that whole 'trying to be like Jesus' thing. I got to be the final step in his journey. Will that man read the Bible? I don't know. Did the sermon he heard mean anything to him? I have no idea. Will he make a change in his life? Not a clue. But I took a chance, put my faith to the test, and did what I know I was supposed to do. I went.
One random act of kindness (offering a meal to a hitchhiker) resulted in my heart being expanded. Did my husband pick that man up because he knew I needed to get re-focussed? I doubt it. But that's what happened.
Random Acts of Kindness. You never know where they will lead. You never know who they will help. You can never tell what will happen. But if you're not careful, you may be the one that really gets the blessing.
Random acts of kindness. Have you been part of one lately?
Try it.
The life you change just might be your own.

Life.

Walking on air. Breathing sunshine. Sleeping on a cloud. Tap dancing in the stars. Floating through space. That's how I feel right now.

I got to witness another miracle early this morning, and I'm still high on life. I've got tears coursing down my cheeks, I can hardly see, my heart feels like it's beating an African drum rhythm in my chest. Yes, LIFE is good! It's beautiful, really.

I have some friends that have had some pretty rough days lately. Gone through losses. Had heartache happen. Felt like their very souls were stomped on. And, me being who I am, I've felt those things right along with them.

But you know, dawn always follows the darkest night. That's a lesson I re-learned recently, and I even blogged about it. But, as with most lessons, sometimes it takes me a bit to remember it when I need it most.

I got to witness a birth this morning. That explains my euphoria, doesn't it? Have you ever been to a birth, besides the day YOU made an appearance in the world? And I have to say here, if you're thinking of when you gave birth to your children, that doesn't count either. Have you ever been in the room, been standing next to, or helping, a woman bring life into this world? Have you ever been able to hold her hand through a contraction, remind her to breathe, gently push the hair from her eyes, help her hold her legs when it came time to push, whisper encouragement into her ear, have her so focussed on you and your voice that you actually feel like you are the only link between this world and the one where the pain is taking over? Have you ever been there to see that tiny little head emerge, see that sweet little body slip out into those waiting arms, watch the face of the momma as she glimpses that baby for the very first time?

It. Is. Something.

I cant describe it. I am too overwhelmed, still, 10 hours later, to even attempt to be truly coherent.

My friend gave birth shortly after midnight this morning. Her husband was there to help her. So was I. She is an AMAZING woman, and she did an INCREDIBLE thing. She brought her baby into the world with no drugs, no intervention, only her man at her side, and my voice reminding her that it would be over soon. I feel honored that I got to share such a miracle with their family. I feel blown away to have seen, yet again, the miracle of birth. I think of her strength, and courage, and determination, and I am in awe. Today, she is the most beautiful woman in the world.

Today, I was given a reminder that LIFE, in all of its wonderful glory, has a way of soothing the troubles and pains of this mean, cruel world. Today, I woke from the darkness of the night and saw a beautiful, bright dawn.

Thank you.

It's all about Lani

and McB, and RSS, and Samantha, and Misty, and Patricia, and Elaine, and... me! (of course)

Oh my oh my. I had the greatest Saturday in a very long time. I got to do one of my favorite things - go to a booksigning, with some of my favorite people - CherryBombs. And it was so much more than I could have ever imagined! I won't go into minute-by-minute detail, but I do want to give you the highlights. Be prepared to turn green.

RSS picked me up and drove me to McBs house. McB climbed in the car and we all headed off to Turn The Page, the bookstore of Nora Roberts in Boonsboro, MD. Nora was hosting a booksigning, and there were two authors that I wanted to see. This is where I tell you that I wouldn't recognize Nora Roberts if she came up and introduced herself to me. I haven't read anything by her since she was writing for Silhouette, oh so many years ago. It's not that I don't like her. It's that I'm really scared to read her books. See, if I like an author, then I really must read everything they've ever written. I mean EVERYTHING. This has caused me to pay way too much money for very old books on e-bay. It has caused me to lose endless sleep finishing up backlists. It has caused angst when I couldn't find that one book (which shall not be named!) for close to a year. And let me tell you something - Nora has a HUGE backlist. And I just can't afford it. Yes, I know I could go to the library, but I just don't do that, ok? Because once I bring a book into my home, I have a hard time letting it leave. So Nora? Yeah, I'm positive she's wonderful. I've read her older stuff and loved it. But I'm just not sure I have the time (or the money!) to read her now. Not that I have a choice, because I have friends that love me. But that's another part of the story. I was talking about her guests.

Elaine Fox was one of the first writers that I ever "reviewed", and I had to meet her. I got lucky and also met her mom, sister and daughter. I think it must be genetic, because all of them are just beautiful. I got books signed, and they will be used as a prize next week over on the review blog.

But the main reason I was there was Lani. Lani Diane Rich is my FAB Pick over on the review blog this month. She's written a book that will be released on Tuesday. The book is called The Fortune Quilt, and I'm going to share the BCC with you here:

Carly McKay's life is going just fine until she produces a television piece on psychic quilt maker Brandywine Seaver and receives a quilt with an enigmatic reading telling her that everything is about to change. Carly blows off the reading until it comes true. Her boss runs off with all the station's assets, leaving her jobless; her best friend, Christopher, proclaims his (unrequited) love for her, leaving her friendless; and her mother, who deserted he family seventeen years ago, returns, sending Carly into a serious tilt.

Convinced it's the quilt's fault, Carly races down to the small artists' community of Bilby, Arizona, to confront its maker, and ends up with an unexpected friend in Brandy - and in Will, the laid-back painter who rents the cabin next door. With quirky new buddies and no more deadlines, Carly starts to enjoy her reimagined life, until her old one comes calling. Now Carly has to decide what parts of each world she wants to patchwork in.. and how much she's willing to leave to fate.

Doesn't that sound lovely? Well, I got to read the book last month, and I can assure you that the book is really great. And so is Lani.

She let us CherryBombs hang out with her after the signing. We actually got to have lunch with her and her friend, the charming Samantha Graves. Plus, Misty Simon was also there. If you don't know about Misty yet, check out her site. She's hysterical. And Samantha? Oh my, she's just lovely. She's got a new book coming out next month, and I know I'll be reviewing it.

As usual though, I was overwhelmed with how kind and generous book people are. The very talented and totally classy Patricia Gaffney was kind enough to let me drag her outside to meet the other CBs. She even let us take pics with her. Patricia also has a new book coming out, in August. I can't wait for that release!

I won't tell you all that we discussed while eating some of the best deli sandwiches in Maryland. But I will tell you that there was much laughter. Many smiles. Lots of snorts. Nods of agreement. And one totally priceless look of astonishment that I will remember for the rest of my days.

All in all, it was one of the best afternoons I can recall ever having. The only thing that could have made it better is if my friend Kim had been able to join us. I hear she's saving up all of her free time for New Jersey though, so I won't complain.

Be sure to check out the review blog for your chance to win some of Lani's books this week.

Thanks Lani, Misty, Samantha, Patricia, and Elaine, for showing us the very best that the romance genre has to offer.

And of course- thanks to McB and RSS for yet another wonderful day. You guys are the greatest!!

The many faces of dee

I've had the idea for this post rolling around in my head for quite a while, I just haven't had the courage to actually write it. It started out as a conversation with some friends, where peole were talking about someone being "two-faced". This whole idea really intrigued me, as I'm not sure what it really means. Yes, I understand the concept of having two faces. I get that. But reallly, who can honestly say that they do not have at least two different faces? Show me a person with only one face and I'll point out that you're talking about a patient on a coma ward.

I'm not trying to put anyone down here. I'm just being honest. It fascinates me to hear people say things like "I'm the same way here that I am there!" To that I say "Yeah. Right. And pigs just flew out of my ..." Well, you get the picture.'

I think it's part of human nature to be multi-faced. It's a survival instinct, in many cases. Not long after I started this blog, I had a post that talked about all of the things that I am. You can read about it here. http://deeceetalks.blogspot.com/2006/05/all-about-me_10.html (Sorry, I'd love to do the little link thing, but for some reason, Blogger doesn't give me that option anymore since I started using Safari.) In that post, I talk about the different roles that I have in my life, as a mom, a wife, a reader, a writer, and all sorts of other "faces" that I have. I guess that post might have really been the beginning of this one.

Anyhow, it's been on my mind so often lately, that I just decided to talk about it here. Plus, the idea of separating the different parts of my life keeps popping up, so again, on my mind. As a matter of fact, it's been on my mind so much, for so long, that the idea has actually worked it's way into my WIP. In the beach story, the main character deals with this unintentionally. She has 3 friends that are all main parts of her life, but very different, very distinct parts, and they've never intersected. When they all come together, she realizes the different roles she plays to each of these people. She fulfills a different function to each of them, almost becoming a different person, without even realizing she's doing it. They even call her different variations of her name. I thought it was pretty cool.

Then I started thinking about my own life. That whole "Life imitates art" thing? Totally me. But in reverse. Because that's how it is at my house. My husband, he calls me one name. My kids they call me mom. My friends call me a variation of my birth name, dpending on when they came into my life, and what I was calling myself at the time. My writing friends call me something else. Church friends call me "Mrs.", and work friends use my given name, or a nickname. I've got quite a few nicknames, and I'll answer to just about any variation of my given or middle name.

Why? Do I think that I need to keep all of these different parts of my life distinct? Do I not want them to intersect? I think it goes deeper than that. When I'm at home with my kids, Mom is the only name I recognize. At work, my name is on my uniform, and "Mom" is just not me. With writing friends, I love the freedom of "dee"; it's short, to the point, basic, but still fun, and that's how I want to be with those people.

My character in my book has a major ah-ha moment when she realizes what she's been doing, and how hurtful it is to her, because she really caters to each of these people and has molded herself into the person that they expect her to be, instead of staying true to herself. In the end, there is a scene where she tells them what her name is, and explains that this is the only thing she wants to be called anymore. She effectively puts a stop to having to be so many people to so many people.

That is NOT a case of "art imitates life" though. Because, unlike my character, I have a pretty firm grasp on who I am. While my name may sometimes change depending on my location or crowd, my basic being remains the same. Yes, I am more forceful when in my Mommy personna, and more affectionate when in Wife mode. But basically, I've got just one face.

It just depends on what name you use for me as to what my particuilar expression might be, that's all.

All quiet on the home front

Well, except for all that screaming today!

No, I wasn't yelling at the kids. I was yelling FOR the kids. There's a difference.

My oldest girl child was participating in the AWANA Bible Quiz in Richmond today, as part of a team. Our church had two teams competing in the high school age bracket and one team in the junior high bracket. Our junior high team came in SECOND place. Our high school teams took SECOND AND FIRST places. Can you believe that? Well, knowing how much those kids studied, I certainly can!

It was just one of those really proud parent moments for us today. Our daughter is both incredibly outgoing and amazingly shy, at the same time. While she's exuberant and in-your-face around friends and family, she can seem more like a turtle with people she doesn't know. In past years, she's been on the Bible Quiz team, yet rarely answered any questions. Today, we watched our beautiful young woman blossom right there on stage. She hesitantly took the microphone to answer a question, took a deep breath, then correctly answered the question with grace and poise. I had tears in my eyes when she sat down.

It wasn't just knowing that she got the correct answer though. It was the fact that she actually put herself out there, she stood up on that stage in front of those people and used her voice, spoke those words with confidence, remembered to say "Sir" at the end of her answer, and even managed a small smile upon learning she got it right. Three years ago, it was hard to watch her, knowing how hard she'd studied, but also knowing she was too nervous to answer anything. Today, it was like watching a beautiful sunset, that perfect balance of brilliance and peace that steals over your heart, catches your breth, and quiets your soul.

I've watched her grow a lot in these last 6 months. I know, it happens, right? They grow up, don't they? I KNOW THIS. Yet still, seeing her today, standing firm, holding that mic, it made my heart swell. I again caught a glimpse of the woman that she is becoming.

Even better than that was after the quiz, when they announced the winners. Her team took SECOND place, only a few points behind the other team. But the real test came when our youngest two girls got so excited about the win that they wanted to congratulate her. Normally one to insist on personal space and avoid physical contact from her family members, when they stood in front of where she was sitting, she grabbed them and pulled them close, held on to them for a moment, even smiled at them. Even more than her using her voice on stage today, this showed me how much she is maturing. She's learning to show the love that I know is in her heart, even when her friends are watching. She's starting to realize that she's her very own person, and that person is someone to be proud of!

And of course, the rest of the parents were just as proud of our teams. In this day and age, many folks are lucky if their kids will even attend church grudgingly. Our kids didn't have to participate. They knew it would be tough. They knew that they'd have to memorize dozens of verses, learn tons of facts, and spend an endless amount of time studying God's Word. Still, they committed themselves to the task. Today, they exemplified the AWANA key verse, 2 Timothy 2:15, which says "Study to show thyself approved unto God, a workman that needeth not to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth."

Truly, there is no better example of Approved Workmen Are Not Ashamed than that!

La Chandeleur in Virginia...

OR...

Why Laura Florand should send me more truffles!




Ever have to do something just because you know you should? Does that ever include an enormous amount of butter, warm fruit, and a stove? Interested in what I did this morning? Well, you should be... :)

I spent the morning making crepes with my family. Don't believe me? Check out those pics! First is Jo, in mid-flip. Next is Maggie, with a look of total concentration on her face. Then is Shane, plate in hand. Everyone tried the flip, except the too-cool-to-flip teenager. There are some things that she just won't consent to do, even for French food. Flipping a crepe to be captured on my camera-phone, to be posted on my blog? Yeah, that's one of those things.

Why were we all flipping crepes? Well, my friend Laura suggested, right here on her blog, that it was a very tasty alternative to Groundhog's Day. And since Laura even shared her crepe recipe, and told us how to do "the Flip", what could we do but try it? Note: If you click over there for the recipe, be sure to check out the comments. I made it the way it says, and the crepes came out fine. But then she corrected it to make it only 1 cup liquid. Guess what? It worked fine the other way too. So, your choice!

We mixed and swished and flipped and ate for a few hours this morning. All of the kids tried the flip, more than once. Maggie was the first successful flipper. Michael had a perfect flip, then promptly ruined it by trying to show off by flipping it onto his plate. My dog, Hershey, loved him for that!

I don't have pics of everyone at the flip, because I was having so much fun watching the kids that I forgot to properly capture the moment on film. But those looks! Don't you just love that look on Maggie's face? She is so serious, so sure that her crepe is going to flip up and over, and land perfectly back in the pan, she all but wills it to happen. Laura suggested things like chocolate for toppings, but we just went basic. I like crepes, and they are a traditional early summer treat for us, usually after a day at the berry farm. So we stuck to what we like, and had blueberries, strawberries, blackberries, and an enormous tub of cool whip. Yummy!

Thanks so much, Laura, for the suggestion! If the cheers and "this was way cooler than watching the groundhog" comments are any indication, we'll be flipping crepes on February 2 for years to come.

Another note: Check out this link here for an explanation of why we flipped crepes today. Laura explains it on her blog, of course, but the link goes into more history.

Bon apetite!

Hard days and nights

No, not a play on that old Beattles song. Yes, I think they are way cool, but really, I don't want that song stuck in your head for days. What I'm talking about is how hard my days and nights have been lately. Geez, I feel like I've been whining a lot in my blog, and I don't mean to, but I guess I've been taking on too much. Again.

The other day was an anniversary of sorts. I'm a doula in my 'spare time'. For those that don't know what that means, I'm basically a labor and delivery assistant. I've done this for years, for friends and family. I even started to do it professionally. My very first 'official' client was an incredible woman, having her first child. When the big day came, I spent over 20 hours with her, helping her labor. She ended up having a C-section, and the baby didn't make it. It was 'just one of those things'. To have a child not make it, in this day and age of medical technology, was horrific. Even knowing that I wasn't responsible, I still felt that there should have been something that I could have done. This woman trusted me to help her bring her child into the world, and I feel like I failed her.

No, she never blamed me. On the contrary. We became friends. I was at the birth of her second child, an amazingly beautiful daughter. She recently added another daughter to her family. Both of her girls are totally beautiful, and their pictures hold places of honor on my desk. I doubt their momma knows how much I treasure them.

But I take anniversaries hard, as many of you know. My mom's death knocked me for a loop, and it still does. Five years later, and you were akll witness to the mess that was me at Christmas. I get that way on her borthday as well.

Maybe that's why the past few days have been so difficult. I knew the anniversary was coming, I knew it in the back of my head. When I went shopping with my little girl the other day, we got flowers to put on the babies grave. It would have been the baby's birthday. When I saw that headstone, covered with snow, it all came rushing back to me.

I'm not the momma that lost my baby, but that passing still has a very deep impact on my life. I rejoice in their growing and very beautiful family, but I still mourn the child that is gone.

Why share this? Well, it's been on my mind a lot this week. And it was brought even closer to home when a new friend lost a family member. I was reminded again of losing my mom, and how I dealt with it. I was reminded of the loss of that baby, and how they dealt with it.

I talk about my mom every day. Every single day. I tell my kids about her, silly stories of growing up, things she liked, the way she sounded. To my kids, even the ones to young to really remember her, she is more than just someone that died five years ago. She's still "KK", and they talk about her almost as often as I do. We share things about her with each other. Even the younger two have 'memories' of her, that have been given to them by me and the older children.

And my friend that lost her baby? She talks about him to her younger ones too. On each of their birth announcements, the baby that was lost was mentioned as their 'special angel'. Those girls will grow up knowing that there was someone before them, and that person was real, and that person lived, and that person was loved.

What a legacy to my mom. What a legacy to that baby. I am so thankful that a friend told me to talk about my mom to my kids, so they wouldn't forget her. It has kept her alive in my heart and alive in their hearts. I am thankful that I passed that on to my friend that lost her baby, so she can keep that baby alive in the hearts of her other children.

Yes, I think that we have to move on, and to 'get over' a death, to learn to accept it, to learn to grieve. But I do not think there is ever a time when we should be expected to forget a loved one that has left us. I still grieve my mom. I cry sometimes out of the blue, when I see a bright bouquet of daisies (her favorite flower, and my only tattoo), when someone talks about Paris (it was her dream to go there, and she saved all 5 postcards that I sent her from there), when I hear a Conway Twitty song on the radio (she just loved him!). I've learned it's ok to cry. It teaches my children that the feelings of loss take time to heal. But after my tears, I can smile, at the beauty of those daisies, or the memories of her face when I brought her home a small Eifel Tower, or the sound of Conway's gravelly voice on the radio. That's something else my children have learned - smiles come after tears. And that's ok.

Because sometimes you have to go through the rain in order to see the rainbow.

Sometimes, there are hard days and nights. But the morning always follows the darkest night.

Always.

Ahem. Time for a new post, huh?

Well, I have nothing to say. No, really, I mean it. I am out of words. Sorry.

Why has it been so long since I've blogged? I don't know. Really I don't. I just haven't had anything to say.

I've been working, way more than I want to work. We have a training coordinator and 4 trainers at the restaurant. Well, we had 4 trainers. One of them quit. One of them was on vacation. One of them has a lot of personal issues. And the coordinator was gone for a week. So yeah, that left ME working, more than I'm used to working. I know, I know, many of you have full time jobs and you still manage to blog. But I'm not you. I'm not used to being out of my home so much. I'm not used to coming home so tired, and being so frazzled. This job is supposed to be mindless. It's just biscuits and gravy. Ok, it's also chicken-n-dumplins, and meatloaf. But really, just biscuits-n-gravy. Not brain surgery. Not taxes. But I feel like I've had a lobotomy and been well and truly taxed. Ugh.

I haven't been writing. Not here. Not on my book. Not on anything. I feel all of this stuff, stored up inside of me. I want to let it out. I need to let it out. But I can't make the time to do it. I'm just too tired. And that makes me sad. And mad.

I have some friends that are going through some shtuff. Yeah. Bad things are a-happenin' in their home. Not baad, like brawls and diseases and deaths, but still, bad enough. They are sad, and mad, and sick of being together. This makes me sad. So I've been trying to spend lots of time with them, trying to remind them why they got married, trying to get them to feel the love, instead of all of the petty stuff that they've been feeling.

I miss my Grams. I miss my brother. They are out in Oklahoma and New Orleans, of course. Not here. Nowhere close to here. Very far away. It's been over a year since I've seen my Grams. It's been over a year since I've seen my brother. That's just way too long. So, I've made plans to change that. I'm taking that beautiful daughter that you all saw for weeks on a road trip next month. We're heading down to the Big Easy, for Mardi Gras, to visit the lil' bro. I'm leaving her there for a while. While she's gone, I'll be off work. Then, in May, I'm taking the whole fam out to see Grams.

I haven't heard back about that job I mentioned. This makes me sad. But still, if there is one job that has nothing to do with the food biz, then there are more, right? I'm clinging to this thought right now, as my feet throb out their angst at being beneath my winter-bloated body for way too many hours today. I really want to be out of the slinging-hash(browns) business forever. Maybe, if I can ever finish the book, I can get it sold and won't have to be a waitress anymore. Now, please don't start bursting my bubble by telling me how many people dream of the very same thing and it never happens. I just don't want to hear you. Wanna know why? Because frankly - I don't care. I'm going to beat the odds. I'm going to finish the damn book. Then I'm going to finish the other one. Then the other one. Then I'm going to sell one of them. Then the others. Then I won't ever have to ask, "Would you care to try some coca-cola cake today?" ever again. Ever. Don't even DARE tell me it won't happen, because if you do, I'll just stick my tongue out at you and put my fingers in my ears, and roll my eyes, until you mutter "So childish!" under your breath and click right off of my blog.

That's what I'm feeling. That's where I've been. That's what I'm going to do.

Any questions?

Nah. Didn't think so.

And she's smiling!

Today, I am a braggin' momma.

On the right is my beautiful oldest daughter, Gretchen. Next to her is her friend, Kelsey. Gret and Kels are all dressed up for the Christmas Banquet. Teens from local churches attend the banquet every year, and they get all decked out to do it.

Come on now, isn't she purdy???

The end of the first week of the New Year...

Where has the time gone?!?

Can you believe we're almost a full week into the New Year already? As I sit here, on this incredibly warm Saturday morning, I find myself wondering where the time has gone. I mean, just yesterday (well, ok, a few days ago) it was last year. Now, the first week is fading.

Honestly thinking that I have a snowcones shot in hell of making sense this morning, I've decided to blog a bit. See, I had a full house last night. Eight boys, between the ages of 7 and 13. I'm still standing, and so is my house. That's a bonus. No holes were knocked in the wall. Another bonus. It was the annual Michael's Birthday Sleepover and Game-System Challenge. Basically, the Christmas Eve-born oldest male child postpones his birthday bash until the first weekend in january, to make sure that any friends travelling during the holiday season are able to make it to his party. For the past few years, he's had the same type of party. The boys come over Friday night, then spend the night awake, playing XBox, Playstation, or GameCube. This year, they got to play the new Wii as well. We try to get rid of the girls that night, and it's all about the boys having fun. The only rules are that they are not allowed to leave the house, and they are not allowed to fight. This year, we had them all on the main floor of the house, one room for the Wii on the big screen, another room for any other system on the smaller tv. Only one kid made it all the way through the night, and that was my younger son, Mathew. I generally try to stay awake for most of the night, and my last head check was at 4:15 this morning. Then I got up at 8:30 to fix pancakes and bacon. So yeah, I'm a bit tired. But the smile on Michael's face more than made up for it. And he even hugged me. Without being paid, coerced or threatened. It was really cool.

I've been a writing slacker. I haven't written a single thing ALL YEAR. That's all I've got to say about that.

I've been working more than I wanted to this year. I worked four days this week, and it just wreaked havoc with my writing and reading schedule. But there may be a solution. I was offered a job the other night while I was at work. A very nice woman asked me if I would consider working for her, NOT AS A WAITRESS!! Yeah, I was pretty jazzed. She runs an assisted living group home for mentally challenged adults, and she asked me if I'd come over for dinner next week and see if I liked it. It sounds like a very emotionally and mentally fulfilling job, and not nearly as physically exhausting as the food place. So I'm seriously considering it.

I have to tell you that part of the reason I'm thinking about a new job is because I've been taking stock of my life a lot lately. No, I'm not big into resolutions at all. I think people really set themselves up for failure with those, and it just seems sad to me. If you eant to lose weight, or quit smoking, or something, then just do it. Don't wait for a special day, and put a label on it, then feel like a failure if you don't live up to that resolution. Just do it. Start any day of the week, and decide to try to change. *I* am worth it t o change. *YOU* are worth it as well. Who needs a publicly announced list to live up to? Not me.

Anyhow, taking stock of my life... I don't want to feel boxed into things anymore. i don't want to do things out of duty or obligation. I want to do them because I love doing them, and no otehr reason. I liked the restaurant when I started. I still like my friends up there. But really, the job has lost its shine for me. It's just a job now. Yes, I am very spoiled. I have a husband that has a job that makes it possible for me to not have to scramble for a full time position. Still, I like to have a little extra in my pocket, I like a few hours away from the kids, and I like having a place where they know me by my first name, instead of "Mom". So I was already thinking about quitting, but not sure what I wanted to do next. I like trying new things, and I like new experiences. I wanted some sort of adventure. I wanted something that would keep my mind fresh and introduce new ideas for stories on a fairly regular basis. I think I found it in this new job offer. Honestly, since I spoke with that woman Thursday night, I've had a sotry forming in my head. I can't start writing it yet, of course. I really need to finish the other ones that I've already started. But still, it's there, growing each hour that passes. And already, I can hear a woman's voice. And I can see a man's face. And I know what the conflict will be. And I know the resolution. And it's getting crisper and clearer in my head with each thought. So I've got to finish at least one of the ones going, so I can start this new one.

And that brings me to my other 'take stock' issue. I really need to finish my stories. I need to get over my fear and finish one, so I can send it out to a few of you and get some feedback, and know if I'm wasitng my time or not. I know that it's just fear keeping my fingers from the keyboard, even though I'm very creative in coming up with loads of excuses not to be writing. I have to get over the fear and finish. So I can know. Are you getting that the fear isn't about finishing the story so much as the reality of sending it out and waiting to hear if it's any good?

That's all for now. I've got to clean up after the boys. Then I'm heading upstairs to check on my people, see if they're still where I left them, see if they're even speaking to me anymore after I ignored them for so long.

I'll let you know how it goes.

ABC Meme, from Joss's blog...

A- Available or single? Yeah, sure.

B- Best Friend? Shane. Duh. Then Kelly, she's known me longer than anyone else. Kim and Charity fit right in there as well.

C- Cake or Pie? Mom's yucky old chocolate cinammon cake.

D- Drink of Choice? Cafe Momma, aka coffee fixed just for me by my daughter Jordan.

E- Essential Item? books

F- Favorite Color? red, and I've really taken a liking to PINK the past few months as well. That might have something to do with my fabulous Pink Warrior friends, Michelle and Renee though.

G- Gummi Bears or Worms? bears. it's just fun to bite off their little heads.

H- Hometown? Well, I was born in Winfield, Ks. But I grew up all over the place. I graduated in Vegas, so we'll go with that. It just sounds so much cooler than Kansas, huh?

I- Indulgence? I really don't have that many of these. I guess my lambrusco.

J- January or February? February. It's the month that reminds me most of Europe, as that's when I was in both Italy and Paris.

K- Kids and names? Gretchen, Michael, Jordan, Mathew, Maggie, Emile.

L- Life is incomplete without? My husband. No, really. I can barely make it through a whole day without him. You guys have been witness to that.

M- Marriage Date? Our legal marriage date is in December. But we celebrate our anniversary in August, the day of our first kiss and dance.

N- Number of Siblings? 1 Brother, Ron, who is younger and a big pain in the butt. He's also one of my very favorite people in the whole world.

O- Oranges or apples? Oranges, especially if they have cloves in them and are simmering in a huge pot of dark wine, about to be made into sangria.

P- Phobias/Fears? Failure. Most notably as a mommy. Also as a wife, friend, writer. You name it, I'm afraid I'll screw it up.

Q- Favorite Quote? Duh. Just take a look at my "favorite sayings" over there on the right

R- Reason to Smile? see "K"

S- Season? Any of the ones that aren't winter.

T- Tag three people! Tag? Oh, I suck at that game. I can't run fast enough to catch the big kids, and I feel too bad to catch the little kids, so I'm usually "it" for at least three rounds!

U- Unknown Fact About Me? I ran away from home when I was 18. I just hopped on a bus from Vegas and headed off to California. I had $39 in my wallet and $5 in my pocket. Every last penny was stolen from my wallet, so I showed up in San Diego with enough for bus fare to the beach. I took that bus, met a really cool couple, slept on their floor for a few days, headed north to LA, found a job, stayed in a shelter-type place for a fw months, then went out to Texas to see my grandparents before going into the Navy. I'd already joined before heading off to California. The bus trip and 4 following months was just me seeing if I could make it without anyone else. I did, of course. I think I've never been more scared, or more proud, of anything in my life. And if my daughter (any of them) ever tries anything like that, I'll probably kill her.

V- Vegetable you hate? I can say in all honesty that the only veggie that earns HATE from me is PEAS. Can't stand 'em. Won't fix 'em. Gag if I even smell 'em. Spinach? Bring it on. Brussels sprouts? Love the things. But peas? Oh Gawd, I hate those!

W- Worst habit? Not finishing what I start.

X- X-Rays you've had? head. wrist. knees. ankles. stomach. chest. geez, sounds like i've been messed up a lot. But really, except for a broken wrist during my first marriage, i've never had a broken bone.

Y- Your favorite food? i LOVE Mexican food.

Z- Zodiac? crab. well, Moon child sounds so much better, doesn't it? still though - i'm a crab!

Just wanted to share...

This is the view from my office window.
Words don't even begin to describe it, so I thought a picture might work.
Thanks to all of you that reminded me that I do, in fact, have a voice.

Christmas Joy!!

Spreading it is more fun than I remembered...

I am overwhelmed this Christmas morning. I don't know how else to explain it. First, there was THIS beautiful gift, from two of my favorite authors (Jenny and Bob, her and him, The Cherry and The GAM). Then, there was the rest...

Last night, the fam went to church for the Christmas Eve candle lit service. It was beyond beautiful. The sanctuary was decorated in candles and colors, smiles were everywhere, and music filled the air. All of our church families had the opportunity to showcase their own special talents. Some people read passages, some performed on the guitar or piano, some sang. We also had a special time of the Lord's Table (Communion, to some of you). During this time, the floor was open for anyone that felt compelled to give testimonies. I don't know how it is in other churches, but I always love it when we get to give testimonies. This year, for me, the highlight centered around a young woman named Tia. Tia is new to our church. She's a teenager that attends the local high school. She was brought to our church by her best friend, Amanda, and Amanda helped lead her to the Lord. Tia's family has been out of church for over a decade, but her newfound passion for Christ brought them to our church last night. When Tia gave her testimony, thanking our church for wlecoming her with open arms, thanking her friend for bringing her, and thanking the Lord for her Salvation, there was not a dry eye in the house. That included her mom and her dad. Tia's mom also gave a testimony, thanking everyone for being there for her daughter, and promising to start attending with her. Truly, this was the best Christmas gift I could ask for. Our family has been praying for Tia and her folks, and seeing the three of them there, sitting together and worshipping God on that Holy night, well, it was an answer to prayer. Thank you, Lord, for the wonderful way you answer our prayers!

This morning started around 5am. When you have little ones, you get an early start. Ok, that's not entirely true. When you have a mom that has been up half the night, waiting to see smiles on little faces, and the clock finally hits 5:30, and she sneaks into the room where the 3 youngest girls are sleeping and starts singing Christmas carols in their ears, that's when you really get an early start.

Stockings first, of course. No, we don't do Santa, but they still expect stockings. Then, it was trying to get the teenager to wake up. She was being stubborn. Finally, we were all assembled around the tree, after moving the couch from the tv room so mom and dad had a place to sit. Then the fun began.

Golf clubs(Jo), Bionicles(Mathew), Tinkerbell blankets(Gret), Cherry wallets(Mags), wallets filled with GameStop gift cards(Michael), handheld Princess games(Ems), socks(Shane), and BOOKS!(me, of course), were just a few of our Christmas treats. I will say that I got BOTH Dear John in hardback AND Between, Georgia in audio format, along with a new bag for the Mac I am getting soon, a thumb drive to move all my wip's around (when I get my Mac), a new very soft robe, lots of fuzzy socks, pens, silverware, a new addition to my Christmas village, a Bible engraved with my name, and many other wonderfully perfect gifts. Yeah, I am LOVED, what can I say?

The kids are totally ga-ga over their Wii, of course (thanks a ton, you know who you are!). Shane likes most everything he got, including his Fighting Irish tie and new clothes. The only oops was when he opened his new Zen-M. Instead of the 60gb, I got him the 30gb. He says it's ok, but still, it's not exactly what he wanted, so I have gift remorse. You know how that goes, right?

So what does all this mean? Well, here's the deal. You all really blew me away with your love and support when I mentioned how difficult this season is for me. Penny and Sheryl sent e-mails. McB sent an e-card, as did Robin. Other people sent e-mails or left comments. And Charity, oh dear sweet Charity, made sure that I got not only one, but TWO, calendars. I felt so loved, so very blessed this year. I kept telling Shane how wonderful my friends are, but I don't know that he really understood just how much you all mean to me. You're so much more than I ever dreamed!

Last night, watching Tia sit there next to her parents, tears streaming down her face because they were actually with her, was like a revelation. No, I didn't have my mom next to me. And that hurt, I won't even try to pretend it didn't. But she was there, in spirit, in my heart, in the smile of my shildren and the warm and reassuring pressure of my husband's grasp. She was there. And like Shane said, if she could, she'd probably kick my butt for being such a Grinch. And this morning, watching the joy on the faces of my babies, I know what she must have felt for so many years.

See, it's not just about the gifts. It's not just about the traditions that you share, new or old. It's not about who gets what for whom, or how much you spend. It's in those smiles you see on the faces of the people you love. It's in the strength of the arm that goes around your shoulders when you're feeling pain. It's in the support and friendship that shows up in your mailbox, electronic or the one by the road, when you're least expecting it. Christmas is about love.

God loves us enough to have sent his only Son to this earth, to be born and to grow and to travel and to teach, then to die for our sins on a tree. There is no greater love than that. Through His love, we were given the best Christmas gift imaginable, better than an audiobook or a Wii. And through His love, it's possible to see how many other gifts we are given every single day.

Every. Single. Day.

I miss you, Mom.

I found my Christmas Joy.

Thank you.

Christmas time...in which I *heart* the Grinch...

In which I *am* the Grinch!

Ahh, the holidays. That wonderful time of year where families gather together in the spirit of love and joy, to give gifts and sing songs and eat food and share happiness. Right? RIGHT?!? Yeah, right. And if you're thinking this blog will be all happy at the end, stop reading now.

I gotta admit this to you guys, and you can ho and hum and call me Scrooge all you want, but here it is... I freakin hate Christmas! There. I said it. Go ahead, tell me I'm a Grinch. Tell me that my heart is ten sizes too small and my face is green and I talk funny. Tell me that I'll be visited by 3 ghosts and all little Timmy needs is medical attention but won't get it because I'm a hateful tightwad miser. I don't care. I really, really don't. Not even one little bit.

When I was a wee lass, Christmas was a magical time of year for me. Well, frankly, if there was a day that Hallmark made a card for, it was pretty special. Did any of you ever get a gift on Groundhogs Day, Flag Day, Labor Day? I rest my case. My mom had this way of finding something for every single holiday that you could possibly imagine. She loved giving gifts. She loved shopping. She had this incredible talent of finding the exact right present for the exact right person, every single time. I never got a single thing that I had to pretend to adore. She was just THAT good at the gift thing. Even with my kids, she was amazing. It was joy and light, just watching people open packages that she had lovingly wrapped. I even liked watching my brother open his gifts, because I knew he would have the perfect thing too. And did I mention that she did it all the time, even if we didn't quite have the money for it? We might be eating good ol' mac-n-cheese until April, but by God, we were getting the perfect gifts at Christmas!

Growing up like that, I was always in the Christmas spirit. I never had to fake it. I loved seeing all the snowflakes and trees go up, no matter how early. Christmas music? Couldn't get enough of it. And yes, I inherited my mother's talent for finding the perfect gift. I nurtured that talent so well, and for so long, that it became almost a magical thing. I was a shopper and a hoarder and one of those people that was totally done buying every single gift by the time October 1st rolled around. Really. I'm so not kidding. October 1st. One year, I was done by my birthday. That's in July, in case you forgot.

And the gifts? I bought them for virtually everyone I knew. Kids teachers, bus drivers, mail delivery people, favorite checker at the Food Lion, Preacher, friends, family, and of course about 4 different Angel Tree kids. I just loved finding and buying, and giving, and watching those faces light up on Christmas morn.

Four years ago, that all changed for me. Why? Well, five years ago, my mom died. Three days after spending her last Christmas with us. She was on her way home and she just...died. We buried her in January and that was the start of my Grinch-ness. That year, 2002, the Christmas joy also just...died. I think part of it was knowing that when I opened my gifts, I wouldn't find that perfect one from my mom. I dreaded Christmas morning for months, knowing that that one special gift would be missing from under my tree. Well, that one special gift and a calendar. Every year, she got me a calendar. Every year, it was different. Every year, it was just right. One year, it was Angels (my nickname). One year, it was seascapes (I luvvver the ocean). One year, it was babies (I like those too :) ). I knew that even though I'd hinted to my various friends and family that I'd really miss that calendar, it still wouldn't be there. And it wasn't. And even though I got some really great gifts that year, none of them were "perfect".

The years have slowly slunk by, and every time it hits October, I start getting this roiling in the pit of my stomach. As soon as I see that first green tree, or hear that first carol, I get a pounding behind my left eye and a tic at my jaw, and I just want to run and hide until January. I can't stand to shop anymore. I don't buy gifts for anyone unless I have to. And lately, I don't even like buying gifts for people that really deserve them. It makes me sad and mad and sick, but it's true. I have lost my Christmas joy.

I will buy for my children. I will buy for my husband. Anyone that does not live in my house is pretty lucky to even get a phone call from me at this time of year. I feel bad about it, but not bad enough to make myself pretend to like this season and go out and try to find gifts for other people. I've resorted to gift cards for Shane's family, because I can get those at the WaWa and I don't have to actually go into a store. They're the only people on this planet besides the ones living under my roof that I'm getting anything at all for, so I guess that's a bonus, right?

Much of it is because my mom is gone. I know this. I know she's gone. I know she isn't coming back. I know that I didn't do anything to make her leave, and that she knew I loved her when she left, and I even know she loved me. But she was my Christmas joy and inspiration for 29 years. Now that she's gone, I just don't have that anymore. Still though, that's not all.

I hate the whole "I want this, so this is what you must buy me" mentality that prevails during this whole damn season. What? My kids don't have enough crap already? We need a special day just to spend a metric butt-ton of money on stuff that will be broken or forgotten by the first of the year? Yeah, right. And grown-ups? Gimme a break. You have a job. You make your own damn money. Buy yourself whatever the heck you want and save me the hassle. WHY should I buy something for you? WHY should I feel guilty knowing that you're going to go out and spend $15 on a generic basket of bath stuff for me that I probably won't even use (unless, of course, you actually go to Bath & Body Works. They have really nice baskets full of stuff)?

I like giving stuff the whole year long, but I hate doing it at Christmas. It's just so forced. It's so calculated. It's so damn fake. Christmas is not about how many new toys or things you get. It's about the celebration of the birth of the Lord, Jesus Christ. Yeah, I know he wasn't really born on December 25th. I know it was actually a pagan holiday. But is it called "Paganmas"? No. It is NOT. It is called CHRISTmas. It's supposed to be about Christ.

So to everyone out there that is secretly thinking that you're going to get a card or gift from me, because you know deep in your heart of hearts that I love you and that you are special to me and that you are my ray of sunshine and I will surely want to express all of that this month... EXHALE. It's not going to happen. Yes, I do love you. Yes, you are special. Yes, you are the ray of sunlight that brightens my every waking moment, and I want to shout it from the rafters for all of the world to hear. But...get with me on this one, ok?

I hate Christmas.

I'll be sending you a gift for Groundhog's Day.

Thank me later.

Do I have an accent?

Finding my own voice

I was talking to my oldest child the other day about my writing. In tyring to explain about why it is a bit frightening to me to finish my story, I started talking to her about why it was that I write in the first place. I mentioned to her that I was on my yearbook staff in high school. I was also on the school newspaper staff. At each of my duty stations while in the Navy I wrote stories or articles for my command newsletter. Growing up, I wanted to be a war journalist. Yes, I'm serious. I wanted to have an old camera, in a battered bag, and travel to hell's armpit and take pictures and write stories that made people think and feel and cry. That was my dream. I could see it in my head.

I have no idea why I wanted to be a war journalist, except maybe because I love photography and I love writing. Seriously, I don't love war. I think war is crazy scary, and I'm not all that hot on jungles or guerillas, or gorillas either, or Kalashnikovs, or seeing death up close and personal. I watched a butterfly die one day and cried for weeks, so I'm really not sure what made me think I'd be able to watch real people die without having to spend the rest of my days in one of those beautiful wrap-around white coats. Silly, really, thinking I'd be able to do that.

But in talking to Gret, I remembered something else. See, I've always been a writer. I think I may have mentioned before how I've always liked to write, but I think I wasn't really ready to admit how much a part of me that writing is. I can remember attempting my first novel. I was in 8th grade. I wrote about 100 pages of it. I let a few friends read it, and one of their moms read it also. She actually cried. She told me that when I got my first book published, she was going to buy 50 copies of it and pass them out at Christmas and tell everyone that she read my first book. Man, I wish I could remember her name! Of course, we moved so much that I barely recall the names of any of my friends, much less their moms. Well, except Jennipher Anderson. I remember her mom's name was Pam, and she had a sister named Julie. She was my friend in 4th grade, when I lived in California.

Anyhow, I've always loved to write. I've started a lot of books, but haven't finished most of them. Usually, something happens in my life that takes me away from the story. Normal things that have stopped me from finishing have been things like moving, giving birth, getting deployed, losing my mother. You know, some real life changing things have happened. As such, it has been a bit hard for me to find my "voice" as a writer.

I think that a writer's voice is what distinguishes each and every book. Some writers are so unique that you can almost recognize their writing without looking at the name on the cover. Most of you have favorites, and it's because that person has a way of weaving together words that creates a magical place for you, a place that you never want to leave. I sing the praises of my favorite voices all the time. I can actually hear the author's voice as I read their books, and it is like listening to music for me. That's why I think it's been so hard for me. See, I don't have an accent.

I grew up all over the place. I was born in Kansas, but never lived there. I lived in Oklahoma and Texas as a baby. Then we moved to Panama, as in Central America. Then to Vegas. Dallas. California, Arizona, back to Vegas, south Texas, Georgia, back to Vegas, California again, back to Vegas, Florida, Puerto Rico, Maryland, and three different places in Virginia. I am married to a man from Ohio. He sounds Canadian. My children sound like perfect little mixes of Southern twang, Texas drawl, and California surf. But me? Yeah, no accent. None. I sound a bit like a radio broadcaster, I guess. Those of you that know me may not realize that though. I'm more of a chameleon with my voice. I can do accents, but I don't really have one. So when I'm writing, I don't hear the lyrical notes of the South, or the brassiness of the South Bronx, or the dropped "r's" of the Northeast, or the long "o's" of the North. I feel like it shows in my writing. And I don't know how I can make the words more me.

I'd like to sound like a cross between Annie Savoy and Delta Burke, with a little Kathleen Turner thrown in for good measure. When I think about it, I want people to read my words and hear huskiness and sultriness and breathlessness. At heart, I think I'm really from South Carolina, or maybe Memphis. If I could pick, I know I'd be Southern. My mom was Southern. My Grams still is. My kids sound like it. My husband is convinced that in a few years he will be (he's got it in his head that when he turns 37, he'll have officially spent more time in Virginia than Ohio, so then he will be SOUTHERN. He refuses to believe me when I tell him it doesn't work like that!). I watched Bull Durham enough to memorize every inflection in Annie's repertoire. I can do the whole "despite my rejection... I am...monogamous" thing and be spot-on, really!

I'm just not sure that wanting to be Southern, wanting to sound Southern, being raised by a Southern momma with Southern rules, eating Southern food, having all of my good memories - every single one of those happy-firefly-warm-breeze-through-the-pecan-tree-at-twilight memories- take place in a Southern place... well, I just don't think that makes me Southern. And dernitalltoheck, I wanna be Southern! I wanna sound like Scarlett when she's standing out on the side of that hill, turnip in hand, making declarations to the air. I want to sound like my friend Kim, who can make even a curse sound like poetry rolling off her Tennessee lips.

But really, I just want to be able to describe things, like the sun, as it's waving a silent goodbye to me, sinking slowly into the horizon, leaving behind a trail of lava and fire and roses across the sky, bathing the meadow outside my window in beauty. I see this sight every day. I make sure that I'm sitting here in my chair at sunset every evening, just so I can see that daily last hurrah of the sun. I arranged my desk next to a window, just for this daily reminder of beauty, to be able to witness this amazing ritual, this breathtaking miracle. It stops my heart every single time. It brings tears to my eyes. I can hear the angels singing in my ear, telling of the promise of another spectacular display, same time tomorrow.

If I could find a way to describe this in a way that other people would also be able to envision this sight, then I know I would have found my very own voice. But until then, I guess all I have to say is...

"Hey, look... the sunset. Ain't it purdy?"

Go!! Write!! WIN!!

I'm channeling my inner cheerleader in an attempt to get you over to the Book Review Blog today.

We have unveiled our December contest, and it is Spectacular!!

Click here to check out the "old" book review site
OR
Click here to check out the "new" book review site.

Both sites currently have all of the same reviews on them. However, after 1 January 2007, we will no longer be double posting. Only the "new" site will have NEW reviews. We will leave up the old site with a "Redirect" post, but no new reviews will be posted there.

Anyhow, you can comment on EITHER site, or send us an e-mail at deeanddeedish@sbcglobal.net to enter the contest. The prize, of course, is some amazingly fabulous books. I won't give you any more details. You're just going to have to head over there to find out all of the details.

Well, what are you waiting for? Get on over there now!!

So, you all want to know what I've been doing, huh?

Yeah, I get that from your e-mails. No, I haven't fallen into a NaNo induced coma. No, I didn't follow my phone doen the toilet into the septic tank. And No, I really didn't break all ten of my digits skydiving off my back deck. I've just been...busy. Ok, not really, but that's my story, and I'm... yeah, that's lame, isn't it?

Truth be told, I've had my head buried in one book after another since November 30th. I have not even picked up my laptop to see if those people I walked away from are still standing on the beach waiting for me to come back and fill in the ending. I don't know what to do with them. Geez, that's not true either. I know exactly what to do with them, I just haven't had the energy to do it. Well, maybe I've had the energy, just not the motivation. Ok, ok, I've just been nervous.

There. I said it. Are you happy now? I'm scared witless to finish my story. I know what's going to happen, and I think it's the exact right thing. But here's the deal... when it's done, it's done, you know? I mean, yeah, I'll have to go back and do some editing (ok, a LOT of editing). And if I actually manage to pitch it and there is some interest, I'll probably have a ton of rewrites to do. But still, basically, once I head back up there and finish it, then it's finished. And I just don't know if I'm ready for it to be over just yet.

As much as I struggled during November, as much as I stressed overmaking my word count, and worried over those unexpected turns it was taking, I just really like this story. No, scratch that. I'm being honest here. I totally love this story. I mean, I really, really got into this story, these people are so real to me, I am so intimate with their lives, their motivations, their hearts, that I'm afraid to end it. Sounds dumb, doesn't it?

I told Robin and McB all about it at lunch. Well, I didn't tell them about not wanting to finish the story. I hadn't even admitted that to myself yet. But I did tell them about the story. I told them the basic outline, and even some of the twisty-turns that it had taken. I dropped a few small bombs, and then the big one. I even told them how it would end. They seemed to like the idea. Mind you, they haven't read it, and I have no idea if my writing can actually keep up with the plot, but still, just knowing that they liked the idea of it was enough to make me feel good, really really good.

Yeah, I'll finish it. I'm giving myself until the end of this month. Then I'm shelving it until I finish the Beach Story. Then I'll go back and do some edits. There are a couple of plot points that I need to strengthen, and one major thing that I want to change. I know what that is, but I'm not sure how to change it yet. It will work itself out in my head by February, I'm pretty sure.

For Life Updates, here you go: Kids are growing like weeds in June. Shane took me out for our Anniversary on Thursday night. He bought me a new coat (it is B e a utiful!). We went out to HappyEndings and he had to drink car bombs because the Browns were getting their butts kicked and the owner of the club was a Steelers fan. Charity called me and I actually got to talk to her instead of just e-mail her. It was the perfect night.

More later. The kids are, at this exact moment, yelling at me to get off the computer so we can go get a Christmas tree.

I LOVE my life.

"It's over!" she sang joyously!!

can't...type...any...more...
wrists...hurt...
will blog next week and tell you all about it.