Hello bloggy world, and Happy New Year!
It’s been awhile since we’ve chatted. A lot has happened since then!
We moved to a new apartment, Michael’s sister Michelle got married, and we made it through the holiday season in one piece. Phew!
The dust has been settling slowly but surely, and these are the things
on my horizon:
Resolutions – I’ve refrained from making an actual list this year, but
my tradition of keeping a theme for the year has not changed. After
hearing the same phrase pop up a few times on different occasions at
church, I’ve decided the phrase “be faithful in the little things” is
my theme for this year. It comes from Matthew 23:25 and Luke 16:10
and I think it’s a really powerful phrase to hold close to my heart. I
think it’s God’s way of telling me that I need to slow down and pay
attention to everything around me. I have a tendency to rush
things to get to the end result faster, sometimes cutting corners or people, and while I might get what I was looking for, I find myself dissatisfied because I didn't truly enjoy the journey and the experience. I
know this isn’t necessarily the original intent of that scripture
passage, but God speaks to each of us in His own way. And for me, I feel that I
need to slow down and be faithful in the little things this year.
Esme Barrera & Ben Breedlove – if you’re not from Austin, you may not
know who either of these people are, but they are extraordinary
nonetheless. Ben passed away from a chronic heart ailment at the age
of 18 on Christmas Day. He left behind an incredible YouTube video
about his near death experiences that inspired a lot of people and
touched a lot of hearts (the link above takes you to Part 1 of his video, which will then direct you to Part 2 when you're ready). Esme Barrera was brutally murdered in her
home on NYE and her death has rocked the live music and arts
communities here in Austin. She was virtually unknown to the rest of the world, but her
kindness, generosity, passion for music and helping others
(particularly kids), along with her cheerfulness are all anyone can
talk about. An article in the local paper moved me so much, I pasted
it on my wall in my cubicle as a reminder of the kind of person I want
to be like. Hearing the stories of these two remarkable young people
has left me humbled and inspired.
Forks Over Knives – Michael and I watched this documentary the other
night. We’ve been meaning to eat
healthier for a long time, but after seeing the documentary and doing some
subsequent research, changing our
eating habits is long overdue. My biggest challenges will be ditching the bacon, cheese, and
sugary treats, but the possible benefits of a whole foods plant based
diet are really motivating. If it can reverse diabetes and heart disease, why not asthma, allergies, and chronic anxiety (my triple A’s!)?
Babies – after seeing so many babies over the holiday season, both
Michael and I were hit by baby fever HARD. We’ve decided that we’re
going to go ahead and start trying for baby #2 this year. This time
though, we’re not going to stress about it like we did with Sybilla.
If the Big Man Upstairs decides to grant us another child in our life,
we will accept that blessing according to His schedule. If it’s meant
to be, it will be. And if it's not, we're ok with that too.
Financial Peace University – our church is starting off the year with
a great series about finances, and they’re starting FPU classes.
Michael and I have waffled on it before, but this time, we are
absolutely certain we want to do it. We’re tired of feeling like we
can’t really live our lives because of our finances. It makes me cringe when I think about how we've treated our money in the past. It makes my brain hurt to even think about changing the way I view money (much less actually change that viewpoint), but
when I think about continuing to live my life the way we have, it
makes me sad and miserable. I’d rather buckle down for one year of my
life and enjoy the years after that than live all of my life in
misery.
Writing – I’ve been putting off a lot of my writing the last few
months because of work, moving, the wedding, etc, etc, etc. I threw
myself a huge pity party and woke up the next morning with a mental hangover. As I sat there kicking around the imaginary beer
bottles, I decided enough was enough and vowed that 2012 is the year
that I’m dumping my inner critic and telling her to piss off. I’m
going to get published, y’all. I don’t know when, I don’t know how.
But it’s gonna happen. I guarantee it.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Happy (belated) New Year,
Kelly
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Writing. Show all posts
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Ten Years Later...
I was sound asleep in my bed, or at least trying to be. One of my roommates had already departed for class, and the other was clunking around in the bathroom, oblivious to the fact that I was still in bed. I dozed off as best as I could, until she popped into my room, a worried look on her face, and the phone in her hands. It was for me.
"Hello?" I said groggily.
"Hey, it's me," my newly minted ex-boyfriend said. "Turn on your TV. Now."
"Why?" I growled.
"Just do it," he said.
"I'm already doing it." I mumbled irritatedly, stumbling into the living room. Even though the breakup was mostly mutual, it was still hard to hear his voice and know that we were finished. Leela already had the TV on, sound muted with closed captioning running as always, her lips moving along as she read the words aloud softly.
I nearly dropped the phone as my hand flew to mouth.
"Holy f*ck," I said. "What happened?"
That is the question we all asked for hours, days, weeks, months, and even years later.
My roommates and I sat numbly around the television as the chaos unfolded. One tower fell, then the second. We cried silently as we watched footage of people jumping from the higher floors, determined to let their end be of their own choosing. We stumbled through the day in a fog, seeking the comfort of routine as we went to class. One professor asked us gently if we wanted him to teach, if it would help, but despite our best efforts, the lecture dissolved into nothing. One girl left the room in tears and we flipped the TV back on, desperate for more information.
I have not personally met or known someone who lost a loved one in the 9/11 attacks, but I have yet to meet a person who was not affected by those attacks in some way. Ten years later, the horror and shock have dissipated. The grief is gone, replaced by a dull ache for things long gone. Those of us old enough to understand what happened that day live with one eye over our shoulder. We live in fear of each other, of people different from us. We live a modern day witch hunt. We live in an age when security is tightened with each passing day, in an effort to keep up safe. I mourn the fact that my children will never bear witness to some of the things I experienced as a child because they are now deemed threats to our safety. They will become the "I walked two miles in the snow, uphill, both ways" stories of my generation. Those stories start with "Before 9/11..."
Is that what it was like when Jesus walked the earth? Did they tell stories the same way we do now? "I remember, before Jesus died..." Or how about Pearl Harbor? Or when the atomic bomb dropped? Or when the plague swept through the Europe? Or the Inquisition? It seems that we as a species mark our timelines with milestones of horror. We are forever comparing our lives to before and after that moment when the world stopped spinning and we all become acutely aware of our mortality and the value of life. It's almost as if we consider these events to be the passage into adulthood, that moment when we lose our innocence and awaken to the brutality of the world. It makes me wonder what event will transpire in my daughter's lifetime to precipitate the loss of her innocence. What kind of brutal world will she wake up to?
As we all take time to remember this day in our past, I pray for a better tomorrow.
Kelly
Monday, June 13, 2011
Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop: Thief in the Night
I lay in the dark, listening to the digital clock tick away the seconds.
What's that you say? Digital clocks don't tick? I beg to differ. Pregnancy heightens one's senses, allowing a woman to perform feats of strength that would leave Superman sobbing like a little girl.
Digital clocks tick away the seconds (I dare you to challenge a pregnant woman's logic–you're either extremely sadistic or extremely stupid).
I lay there, listening to the digital seconds tick by when my mommysense detected a noise outside. I sat bolt upright, every muscle in my body on high alert. The clock read 4 a.m. and I was alone.
My imagination raced, trying to determine the source of the noise. Somewhere in the back of my head where rationality hibernated, my practical self was churning through an old research paper I'd studied in college about the brain's processes when determining unknown noises, reminiscing about synapses and data assimilation. Practical Self tried to soothe Pregnant Self, that it was probably a possum or raccoon, they're common in this rural area of Texas, and nothing more. Pregnant Self shot Practical Self "The Look" and Practical Self mumbled about something in the oven before hightailing it back to the inner recesses of my brain. Pregnant Self then determined the source of the noise to be a burglar.
I sprang from bed and turned on every light in the apartment, electric bill be damned. I checked, rechecked, and re-rechecked every lock and window to make sure they were secure. My mind racing and unable to fall asleep, my blurry thoughts turned to arming myself. I waddled back to the bedroom and dug under the mattress for my shillelagh. I crouched under the covers in the blazing bright lights of my bedroom, shillelagh in hand and waited.
The mind is a terrible thing to waste, you know, and despite the irrationality of my Pregnant Self, it was loathe to waste it's mind. In those wee morning hours, my pregnant brain slapped together a plan of action should a burglar enter the house. I just needed to hold out until daylight. But wait, I thought...when daylight came, I'd leave for work. And what if the burglar came then!? Holy crap, what if the burglar was waiting for me to leave so they could steal all my stuff?! Then what?!
I waddled out of the bedroom and surveyed our tiny apartment and quickly appraised all of our worldy goods. The Xbox, TV, DVD player, our year old Apple computer, the printer, my straightening iron (those things aren't cheap, you know!), all just sitting there screaming to be taken. I'd be damned if I was going to let anyone think they could take advantage of a pregnant woman! I racked my brain and stumbled on an idea--I'd record all of the serial numbers and carve my driver's license number into the back of everything. That way, if the burglar made off with it, I'd be able to recover it since the cops would be able to trace it at the pawn shops. And just to be safe, I was going to backup all of our files from the Mac so that if the burglar got mad and broke the computer in a fit of anger from not being able to guess my password, I'd at least have that.
So there I was at 4 am, clutching my shillelagh and burning CD's like a madwoman, chortling to myself about how clever I was. I heaved and pushed and pulled all of the heavy electronics equipment and diligently recorded all of the serial numbers, product numbers, and hand carved my driver's license number into the back of it all. By the time dawn stretched it's rosy fingers across the hills, I was crawling back to bed, shillelagh held tight in my swollen hands, my mind finally at rest.
That burglar must have decided I was just too clever for him, because he never did break in.
He broke into my trash can instead.
Yeah. But hey, at least I'd finally backed up all of my files!
This post is part of Mama Kat's Writing Workshop. When I saw this prompt, I died laughing, because what pregnant woman DIDN'T have a moment like this? The prompt is: "Barefoot and hormonal...describe an incident that upset you when you were pregnant, but now looking back makes you laugh." And for the record, yes, I really did wake up at an ungodly hour and proceed to document the serial numbers of all our electronics and back up our computer before heading back to bed. Bless my husband, when I showed him my handiwork the next day, he just shook his head and told me to call him at work next time I was worried. And also for the record, I learned that handy little trick about serial numbers and DL's on your stuff from the cops. Growing up, my house was broken into twice, and after the first time, they told us to do that to all our stuff. It actually worked, because that was how they caught the thief the second time around!
What's that you say? Digital clocks don't tick? I beg to differ. Pregnancy heightens one's senses, allowing a woman to perform feats of strength that would leave Superman sobbing like a little girl.
Digital clocks tick away the seconds (I dare you to challenge a pregnant woman's logic–you're either extremely sadistic or extremely stupid).
I lay there, listening to the digital seconds tick by when my mommysense detected a noise outside. I sat bolt upright, every muscle in my body on high alert. The clock read 4 a.m. and I was alone.
My imagination raced, trying to determine the source of the noise. Somewhere in the back of my head where rationality hibernated, my practical self was churning through an old research paper I'd studied in college about the brain's processes when determining unknown noises, reminiscing about synapses and data assimilation. Practical Self tried to soothe Pregnant Self, that it was probably a possum or raccoon, they're common in this rural area of Texas, and nothing more. Pregnant Self shot Practical Self "The Look" and Practical Self mumbled about something in the oven before hightailing it back to the inner recesses of my brain. Pregnant Self then determined the source of the noise to be a burglar.
I sprang from bed and turned on every light in the apartment, electric bill be damned. I checked, rechecked, and re-rechecked every lock and window to make sure they were secure. My mind racing and unable to fall asleep, my blurry thoughts turned to arming myself. I waddled back to the bedroom and dug under the mattress for my shillelagh. I crouched under the covers in the blazing bright lights of my bedroom, shillelagh in hand and waited.
The mind is a terrible thing to waste, you know, and despite the irrationality of my Pregnant Self, it was loathe to waste it's mind. In those wee morning hours, my pregnant brain slapped together a plan of action should a burglar enter the house. I just needed to hold out until daylight. But wait, I thought...when daylight came, I'd leave for work. And what if the burglar came then!? Holy crap, what if the burglar was waiting for me to leave so they could steal all my stuff?! Then what?!
I waddled out of the bedroom and surveyed our tiny apartment and quickly appraised all of our worldy goods. The Xbox, TV, DVD player, our year old Apple computer, the printer, my straightening iron (those things aren't cheap, you know!), all just sitting there screaming to be taken. I'd be damned if I was going to let anyone think they could take advantage of a pregnant woman! I racked my brain and stumbled on an idea--I'd record all of the serial numbers and carve my driver's license number into the back of everything. That way, if the burglar made off with it, I'd be able to recover it since the cops would be able to trace it at the pawn shops. And just to be safe, I was going to backup all of our files from the Mac so that if the burglar got mad and broke the computer in a fit of anger from not being able to guess my password, I'd at least have that.
So there I was at 4 am, clutching my shillelagh and burning CD's like a madwoman, chortling to myself about how clever I was. I heaved and pushed and pulled all of the heavy electronics equipment and diligently recorded all of the serial numbers, product numbers, and hand carved my driver's license number into the back of it all. By the time dawn stretched it's rosy fingers across the hills, I was crawling back to bed, shillelagh held tight in my swollen hands, my mind finally at rest.
That burglar must have decided I was just too clever for him, because he never did break in.
He broke into my trash can instead.
Yeah. But hey, at least I'd finally backed up all of my files!
This post is part of Mama Kat's Writing Workshop. When I saw this prompt, I died laughing, because what pregnant woman DIDN'T have a moment like this? The prompt is: "Barefoot and hormonal...describe an incident that upset you when you were pregnant, but now looking back makes you laugh." And for the record, yes, I really did wake up at an ungodly hour and proceed to document the serial numbers of all our electronics and back up our computer before heading back to bed. Bless my husband, when I showed him my handiwork the next day, he just shook his head and told me to call him at work next time I was worried. And also for the record, I learned that handy little trick about serial numbers and DL's on your stuff from the cops. Growing up, my house was broken into twice, and after the first time, they told us to do that to all our stuff. It actually worked, because that was how they caught the thief the second time around!
Friday, March 18, 2011
Red Dress Club: Detour
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
“Rachel!” Dr. Smith breezed into the room, interrupting her thoughts. She usually enjoyed his upbeat nature, but today Rachel wanted nothing more than to smack the smile off his face.
She’d spent hours offering up her vital fluids, her anxiety ratcheting up until she thought she’d explode. Her phone buzzed with incoming emails, text messages, and missed calls, further aggravating her migraine. Her face felt warm and she was certain her blood pressure had risen 100 points in the last fifteen minutes. The phone buzzed again.
“Do you need to get that?” Dr. Smith asked cheerfully.
“No,” she said sharply.
“I’ll get right down to it then!” he chirped. Rachel leaned forward, her manicured fingernails threatening to punch through the blue vinyl on the table.
“Good news, Rachel. No cancer!”
She blew out a breath of air and relaxed. No cancer. She was fine! Or was she? She frowned.
“Then what is it?” she asked.
He grinned. “You’re pregnant!”
“Wait, what? You mean, I’m going to have a baby?” She grabbed his arm, eyes narrowing. “Are you sure?”
Dr. Smith’s face softened. “I know this is unexpected,” he said gently.
“I can’t be pregnant! How did this happen?” she exclaimed, her voice rising.
He shifted awkwardly. “Uh, well—“
“I know how the reproductive cycle works, Doc,” she snapped. “I meant, how could this happen to ME?” She stared at her hands.
“It could be worse,” he reminded her. “I’ll have the front desk pull a list of doctors for you in case—,” he paused, searching for the right words. “In case you wish to go a different route.” He exited the room.
A baby. This didn’t make sense, she thought. She couldn’t be a mother. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She never babysat. She wasn’t married. She didn’t even have a boyfriend!
She felt disoriented as she donned her carefully folded Armani suit. Her designer wardrobe! The six figure salary! She wanted to run back to her corner office as fast as her Jimmy Choo’s would take her. This wasn’t part of her plan to conquer the advertising world. She’d worked hard to get here; she couldn’t throw it all away now. She wasn't ready for this. She clutched her belly and fought the urge to vomit.
Swallowing her guilt, she made her way to Billing. She quietly placed her credit card in the receptionist’s waiting hands, signed the receipt and shouldered her purse. The woman pushed a manila envelope towards her.
“What’s that?”
“The list Dr. Smith promised you.” Rachel searched the woman’s face, but couldn’t find anything. She sighed.
Something bumped into her as she took the envelope. A pair of green eyes, sparkling with mischief, peered up at her.
The little girl was angelic with her round cheeks and soft golden curls pinned back by a huge pink bow. She grinned at Rachel and ducked behind her legs. Tiny warm hands gripped her knees, surprising Rachel and forcing the breath out of her body.
“Callie, where’d you go?” a voice called. A woman appeared and Rachel stood frozen, watching her with widened eyes. The child giggled.
“Callie!” the mother admonished. “I’m so sorry!” she apologized to Rachel. She scooped up little girl scolding her. Callie looked back at Rachel and waved.
“Ma’am?” the receptionist asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She stared at the envelope clutched in her hands and laid it on the counter gently.
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be needing this.”
This post was written as part of The Red Dress Club's Red Writing Hood. This week, we were asked to write a 600 word piece (fiction or non-fiction) about a time when we took a detour: where were we going and where did we end up? As always, constructive feedback is most appreciated!
Cheers,
Kelly
Breathe out.
Breathe in.
“Rachel!” Dr. Smith breezed into the room, interrupting her thoughts. She usually enjoyed his upbeat nature, but today Rachel wanted nothing more than to smack the smile off his face.
She’d spent hours offering up her vital fluids, her anxiety ratcheting up until she thought she’d explode. Her phone buzzed with incoming emails, text messages, and missed calls, further aggravating her migraine. Her face felt warm and she was certain her blood pressure had risen 100 points in the last fifteen minutes. The phone buzzed again.
“Do you need to get that?” Dr. Smith asked cheerfully.
“No,” she said sharply.
“I’ll get right down to it then!” he chirped. Rachel leaned forward, her manicured fingernails threatening to punch through the blue vinyl on the table.
“Good news, Rachel. No cancer!”
She blew out a breath of air and relaxed. No cancer. She was fine! Or was she? She frowned.
“Then what is it?” she asked.
He grinned. “You’re pregnant!”
“Wait, what? You mean, I’m going to have a baby?” She grabbed his arm, eyes narrowing. “Are you sure?”
Dr. Smith’s face softened. “I know this is unexpected,” he said gently.
“I can’t be pregnant! How did this happen?” she exclaimed, her voice rising.
He shifted awkwardly. “Uh, well—“
“I know how the reproductive cycle works, Doc,” she snapped. “I meant, how could this happen to ME?” She stared at her hands.
“It could be worse,” he reminded her. “I’ll have the front desk pull a list of doctors for you in case—,” he paused, searching for the right words. “In case you wish to go a different route.” He exited the room.
A baby. This didn’t make sense, she thought. She couldn’t be a mother. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. She never babysat. She wasn’t married. She didn’t even have a boyfriend!
She felt disoriented as she donned her carefully folded Armani suit. Her designer wardrobe! The six figure salary! She wanted to run back to her corner office as fast as her Jimmy Choo’s would take her. This wasn’t part of her plan to conquer the advertising world. She’d worked hard to get here; she couldn’t throw it all away now. She wasn't ready for this. She clutched her belly and fought the urge to vomit.
Swallowing her guilt, she made her way to Billing. She quietly placed her credit card in the receptionist’s waiting hands, signed the receipt and shouldered her purse. The woman pushed a manila envelope towards her.
“What’s that?”
“The list Dr. Smith promised you.” Rachel searched the woman’s face, but couldn’t find anything. She sighed.
Something bumped into her as she took the envelope. A pair of green eyes, sparkling with mischief, peered up at her.
The little girl was angelic with her round cheeks and soft golden curls pinned back by a huge pink bow. She grinned at Rachel and ducked behind her legs. Tiny warm hands gripped her knees, surprising Rachel and forcing the breath out of her body.
“Callie, where’d you go?” a voice called. A woman appeared and Rachel stood frozen, watching her with widened eyes. The child giggled.
“Callie!” the mother admonished. “I’m so sorry!” she apologized to Rachel. She scooped up little girl scolding her. Callie looked back at Rachel and waved.
“Ma’am?” the receptionist asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She stared at the envelope clutched in her hands and laid it on the counter gently.
“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll be needing this.”
This post was written as part of The Red Dress Club's Red Writing Hood. This week, we were asked to write a 600 word piece (fiction or non-fiction) about a time when we took a detour: where were we going and where did we end up? As always, constructive feedback is most appreciated!
Cheers,
Kelly
Friday, March 11, 2011
Red Dress Club: Ugly as Sin
“We are NOT keeping it.”
“Please?” Myra’s hazel eyes begged.
A dog, she called it, though it hardly resembled one at the present moment. Its ears were torn, tail crooked, and fur caked in mud. Mud that also caked my daughter’s new dress and freshly cleaned kitchen floor. The “dog” snuffled and ran a pink tongue over its nose.
“Did that thing just eat its boogers?” I asked in disbelief.
Myra snickered. “It’s a dog, Mom! Isn’t he adorable?” She pressed her dirt-streaked face to his and was rewarded with sloppy kisses.
I fought back the urge to vomit.
We’d wanted a dog for some time, but my heart was set on a Black Lab or German Shepherd, the sturdy farm dogs of my youth. I wanted a large dog with glossy fur and excellent breeding. Not only was this dog’s parentage a mystery, he was small, crusted in filth, and looked like he’d hit every branch of the Ugly Tree on the way down.
I wanted an All-American dog, not an All-American reject.
“Where did you find it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
“In the park. Another dog was attacking him and I saved him!” she said proudly.
“You got between two fighting dogs?” I gaped. “Myra, that’s dangerous!”
"Mom, he would’ve been torn to bits!” she argued.
“He already has, if you didn’t notice.”
“Don’t worry, once he’s cleaned up a vet can fix it!”
“He’s ugly as sin! Nothing can fix that!” I protested.
Ignoring me, she carried the dog to the sink and filled it with soap and water. I rolled my eyes and set about mopping the floor. Patience is a virtue, I reminded myself.
After a few minutes, I snuck a peek at Myra’s progress. She sang softly as she scrubbed, and I paused to watch.
A ray of sunlight caught on the flaxen highlights in her hair and dust motes swirled in the air. I smiled, remembering the word Myra used for them as a toddler: fireflies. She would jump and clap her hands trying to catch them, leaving me in tears from laughing so hard. Now on the cusp of adolescence, the buds of breasts beginning to swell under her clothes and baby fat melting away, my chubby toddler was a young woman.
Bubbles zoomed skyward as the dog slipped in the water and he snapped at them. Myra laughed, that deep belly laugh I rarely heard these days, and I should have known then that I’d lost.
Watching her bathe the dog, the trappings of adolescence fell away and for just a moment, I got my baby back.
I wiped a tear away and sighed, startling Myra. The pre-teen mask snapped back into place as she watched me warily.
The dog’s tongue lapped at my fingers as I examined her handiwork. His sparkling white fur was dappled with black patches. He didn’t look half bad now that he was clean, but he would need some work. I cupped his face with my hands and stared into liquid brown eyes that mirrored my own gratitude and love. How could I refuse him when he’d given me something I thought lost forever?
“I think Waverly would be a good name.” I said slowly. “To match his tail.” I gently ran my finger over the kinks and he barked happily.
Myra stared openmouthed.
“You mean I can keep him?!” she shouted. She swung the pup in her arms, flinging water across the kitchen. “Hooray! Mama says you can stay!”
I’m such a sucker, I thought. But it was worth it.
Word Count: 600
This post was written as part of The Red Dress Club. This week's prompt asked us to write a 600 word maximum piece about something ugly–and to find the beauty in it. Feedback is much appreciated!
“Please?” Myra’s hazel eyes begged.
A dog, she called it, though it hardly resembled one at the present moment. Its ears were torn, tail crooked, and fur caked in mud. Mud that also caked my daughter’s new dress and freshly cleaned kitchen floor. The “dog” snuffled and ran a pink tongue over its nose.
“Did that thing just eat its boogers?” I asked in disbelief.
Myra snickered. “It’s a dog, Mom! Isn’t he adorable?” She pressed her dirt-streaked face to his and was rewarded with sloppy kisses.
I fought back the urge to vomit.
We’d wanted a dog for some time, but my heart was set on a Black Lab or German Shepherd, the sturdy farm dogs of my youth. I wanted a large dog with glossy fur and excellent breeding. Not only was this dog’s parentage a mystery, he was small, crusted in filth, and looked like he’d hit every branch of the Ugly Tree on the way down.
I wanted an All-American dog, not an All-American reject.
“Where did you find it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
“In the park. Another dog was attacking him and I saved him!” she said proudly.
“You got between two fighting dogs?” I gaped. “Myra, that’s dangerous!”
"Mom, he would’ve been torn to bits!” she argued.
“He already has, if you didn’t notice.”
“Don’t worry, once he’s cleaned up a vet can fix it!”
“He’s ugly as sin! Nothing can fix that!” I protested.
Ignoring me, she carried the dog to the sink and filled it with soap and water. I rolled my eyes and set about mopping the floor. Patience is a virtue, I reminded myself.
After a few minutes, I snuck a peek at Myra’s progress. She sang softly as she scrubbed, and I paused to watch.
A ray of sunlight caught on the flaxen highlights in her hair and dust motes swirled in the air. I smiled, remembering the word Myra used for them as a toddler: fireflies. She would jump and clap her hands trying to catch them, leaving me in tears from laughing so hard. Now on the cusp of adolescence, the buds of breasts beginning to swell under her clothes and baby fat melting away, my chubby toddler was a young woman.
Bubbles zoomed skyward as the dog slipped in the water and he snapped at them. Myra laughed, that deep belly laugh I rarely heard these days, and I should have known then that I’d lost.
Watching her bathe the dog, the trappings of adolescence fell away and for just a moment, I got my baby back.
I wiped a tear away and sighed, startling Myra. The pre-teen mask snapped back into place as she watched me warily.
The dog’s tongue lapped at my fingers as I examined her handiwork. His sparkling white fur was dappled with black patches. He didn’t look half bad now that he was clean, but he would need some work. I cupped his face with my hands and stared into liquid brown eyes that mirrored my own gratitude and love. How could I refuse him when he’d given me something I thought lost forever?
“I think Waverly would be a good name.” I said slowly. “To match his tail.” I gently ran my finger over the kinks and he barked happily.
Myra stared openmouthed.
“You mean I can keep him?!” she shouted. She swung the pup in her arms, flinging water across the kitchen. “Hooray! Mama says you can stay!”
I’m such a sucker, I thought. But it was worth it.
Word Count: 600
This post was written as part of The Red Dress Club. This week's prompt asked us to write a 600 word maximum piece about something ugly–and to find the beauty in it. Feedback is much appreciated!
Friday, March 4, 2011
Red Dress Club: The Adventures of Capt. Marius, Esq.
With a strong breeze filling her sails, the Queen’s Key raced homeward at a merry clip. Heavy with goods pilfered from Spanish ships, we were riding high on spirits in the bright August sunshine. The waves crested gently across our bow and God willing, we’d be home before Michaelmas.
But as quickly as we’d left port, the waters darkened and the swells grew higher. The blackening sky felt heavy and the winds gusted violently.
“Hurricane’s a-coming!” the crow’s nest called. The crew threw their weight into the lines as the ship strained against the sea. Rain stung our eyes and the decks quickly became deadly slippery.
“Man overboard!” someone screeched.
“Tie your lifelines!” I shouted, but the words were thrown back into my mouth by the wind. I struggled to keep the wheel steady as the Key tossed about, but alas, it was too much! Blinded by rain and mist, I couldn’t see the rocks ahead and the wheel was torn from my hands. The ship shuddered and groaned, splitting in two. The crew screamed as we were pitched into the swirling water.
Desperately searching for flotsam to cling to, I winced as my face smashed into rock by the crashing waves. My hands gripped an outcropping and I clung to it, exhausted.
The wind tore at my back and despair settled like a stone in my belly. How much more could I take? Where were my men? I strained my ears for their cries, but the wind screamed, whipping around me.
Suddenly I heard a voice above the wind’s howl. Could it really be? Was someone else alive?
“HERE!” I cried. “I’m here!”
“Captain!” the voice called, soft and soothing. I stiffened. Something was wrong.
“Curse you!” I shouted. “I won’t be swayed by a siren’s song!”
“Captain Marius,” the voice moaned louder. “Come with meeeee!”
“Never!” I hugged my rock as I watched with dismay as the rest of the Key sank beneath the roiling water. The crew, the goods, my ship, all lost!
“Captain Marius,” the voice tried again, this time with urgency.
“No,” I whispered, shutting my eyes tightly and scrambling further up the rock. “No, I won’t go!” I shouted.
“Don’t be silly,” the voice crooned. “The storm is leaving. Loooook!”
I opened my eyes and blinked. The siren spoke truly; the water WAS ebbing away.
“This can’t be!” I cried. “What’s happening?”
“It’s called ‘bedtime,’ Missy May,” Mama’s voice thundered.
“Who is this Missy May you speak of?” I growled. “I’m Captain Marius, the fiercest sailor on the seven seas!”
“You’re certainly fierce!” she laughed. “Come on, out of the tub!”
“Never!” I shouted, diving back under the water. It swirled around me as I searched the bubbles for the plug. Mama snickered and I looked up to see it dangling from her hand.
“I’ve changed my mind.” I scowled. “You’re not a siren. You’re a harpy!” I screeched.
Mama cocked an eyebrow and placed her hand on her hip.
“Out. Now.” Her tone was icy, dripping with venom. I pouted as I climbed out of the tub. Definitely a harpy, I thought.
I stood naked and shivering as she toweled me off, combed my hair and dressed me in my jammies. Captain Marius wouldn’t complain, neither would I. Mama washed the suds down the drain, carefully placing my toy boat at the back of the tub to dry. As she carried me out of the bathroom, I took one last look.
“I’ll be back, me hearty,” I whispered as the light flicked off.
Word Count: 593
This post was written as part of The Red Dress Club. This week's prompt was to write a 600 word piece - fiction or non-fiction - inspired by one or both of these statements: "Water gives life. It also takes it away."
But as quickly as we’d left port, the waters darkened and the swells grew higher. The blackening sky felt heavy and the winds gusted violently.
“Hurricane’s a-coming!” the crow’s nest called. The crew threw their weight into the lines as the ship strained against the sea. Rain stung our eyes and the decks quickly became deadly slippery.
“Man overboard!” someone screeched.
“Tie your lifelines!” I shouted, but the words were thrown back into my mouth by the wind. I struggled to keep the wheel steady as the Key tossed about, but alas, it was too much! Blinded by rain and mist, I couldn’t see the rocks ahead and the wheel was torn from my hands. The ship shuddered and groaned, splitting in two. The crew screamed as we were pitched into the swirling water.
Desperately searching for flotsam to cling to, I winced as my face smashed into rock by the crashing waves. My hands gripped an outcropping and I clung to it, exhausted.
The wind tore at my back and despair settled like a stone in my belly. How much more could I take? Where were my men? I strained my ears for their cries, but the wind screamed, whipping around me.
Suddenly I heard a voice above the wind’s howl. Could it really be? Was someone else alive?
“HERE!” I cried. “I’m here!”
“Captain!” the voice called, soft and soothing. I stiffened. Something was wrong.
“Curse you!” I shouted. “I won’t be swayed by a siren’s song!”
“Captain Marius,” the voice moaned louder. “Come with meeeee!”
“Never!” I hugged my rock as I watched with dismay as the rest of the Key sank beneath the roiling water. The crew, the goods, my ship, all lost!
“Captain Marius,” the voice tried again, this time with urgency.
“No,” I whispered, shutting my eyes tightly and scrambling further up the rock. “No, I won’t go!” I shouted.
“Don’t be silly,” the voice crooned. “The storm is leaving. Loooook!”
I opened my eyes and blinked. The siren spoke truly; the water WAS ebbing away.
“This can’t be!” I cried. “What’s happening?”
“It’s called ‘bedtime,’ Missy May,” Mama’s voice thundered.
“Who is this Missy May you speak of?” I growled. “I’m Captain Marius, the fiercest sailor on the seven seas!”
“You’re certainly fierce!” she laughed. “Come on, out of the tub!”
“Never!” I shouted, diving back under the water. It swirled around me as I searched the bubbles for the plug. Mama snickered and I looked up to see it dangling from her hand.
“I’ve changed my mind.” I scowled. “You’re not a siren. You’re a harpy!” I screeched.
Mama cocked an eyebrow and placed her hand on her hip.
“Out. Now.” Her tone was icy, dripping with venom. I pouted as I climbed out of the tub. Definitely a harpy, I thought.
I stood naked and shivering as she toweled me off, combed my hair and dressed me in my jammies. Captain Marius wouldn’t complain, neither would I. Mama washed the suds down the drain, carefully placing my toy boat at the back of the tub to dry. As she carried me out of the bathroom, I took one last look.
“I’ll be back, me hearty,” I whispered as the light flicked off.
Word Count: 593
This post was written as part of The Red Dress Club. This week's prompt was to write a 600 word piece - fiction or non-fiction - inspired by one or both of these statements: "Water gives life. It also takes it away."
Friday, February 25, 2011
Red Dress Club: Free to Good Home!
PLEASE NOTE: This post is a JOKE. It was written as part of The Red Dress Club weekly prompt, which asked us to imagine that we just had a fight with someone and decided to get even by disposing of some of their stuff. The task was to write a humorous listing for eBay or Craigslist and talk about the history of the item and why it must go in under 600 words.
After putting up with the trials and tribulations of motherhood and housewifery, I’ve decided that I need a total change in my life and career choice. I’m donning my pirate hat to embark on a worldwide trek to pillage, plunder, and seek out buried treasure. As this new venture might be quite dangerous and will cause me to move from place to place frequently with nothing but the clothes on my back and cutlass swinging from my hip, my last act of goodwill in the world is to find a new home for my husband and daughter.
Husband is in late 20’s, good health, very few behavioral problems. He does fart a lot, but a change in diet should fix that. He’s sweet, very social, and handsome to boot. He’s 6’0” even, has dark hair, hazel eyes, and weighs 185 pounds. He’s usually pretty good about cleaning up after himself, but you may need to stay on top of him every once in awhile. He’s also very creative and loves to show his affection by writing poetry, bringing home books, and giving back rubs. The husband is very laid back and spends his spare time reading, dinking on the internet, and listening to music. He can be very adventurous and will keep you on your toes with his latest ventures.
Daughter just turned three and is up to date on her shots, also in good health.; She’s a little over 3” tall, has long strawberry blonde hair, blue-gray eyes, and about 40 pounds. She’s very energetic and spirited, so an owner with lots of time and energy to spare is a must! She’s mostly potty trained (still wear pull ups at night), is very intelligent, and has quite the vocabulary. Some examples: “two minits, Mommy”, “Mommy, stay here. Be rye back!”, “NOOOO!”, and “I want Scoo-dee Snacks!” She is very affectionate and quite the ham. She loves chasing laser pointers, climbing things, and playing on the playscape at Burger King after a rousing shopping trip at Target.
Ideally, they’ll go to a good home as a pair, but I’m open to different arrangements. If you’re willing to take them both, I will also throw in my intelligence-challenged cat, Snack. She’s small, gray, fuzzy, and very lovable. Plus, she’s easy to take care of.
Location: Austin, TX
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
After putting up with the trials and tribulations of motherhood and housewifery, I’ve decided that I need a total change in my life and career choice. I’m donning my pirate hat to embark on a worldwide trek to pillage, plunder, and seek out buried treasure. As this new venture might be quite dangerous and will cause me to move from place to place frequently with nothing but the clothes on my back and cutlass swinging from my hip, my last act of goodwill in the world is to find a new home for my husband and daughter.
Husband is in late 20’s, good health, very few behavioral problems. He does fart a lot, but a change in diet should fix that. He’s sweet, very social, and handsome to boot. He’s 6’0” even, has dark hair, hazel eyes, and weighs 185 pounds. He’s usually pretty good about cleaning up after himself, but you may need to stay on top of him every once in awhile. He’s also very creative and loves to show his affection by writing poetry, bringing home books, and giving back rubs. The husband is very laid back and spends his spare time reading, dinking on the internet, and listening to music. He can be very adventurous and will keep you on your toes with his latest ventures.
Daughter just turned three and is up to date on her shots, also in good health.; She’s a little over 3” tall, has long strawberry blonde hair, blue-gray eyes, and about 40 pounds. She’s very energetic and spirited, so an owner with lots of time and energy to spare is a must! She’s mostly potty trained (still wear pull ups at night), is very intelligent, and has quite the vocabulary. Some examples: “two minits, Mommy”, “Mommy, stay here. Be rye back!”, “NOOOO!”, and “I want Scoo-dee Snacks!” She is very affectionate and quite the ham. She loves chasing laser pointers, climbing things, and playing on the playscape at Burger King after a rousing shopping trip at Target.
Ideally, they’ll go to a good home as a pair, but I’m open to different arrangements. If you’re willing to take them both, I will also throw in my intelligence-challenged cat, Snack. She’s small, gray, fuzzy, and very lovable. Plus, she’s easy to take care of.
Location: Austin, TX
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Monday, February 21, 2011
Three is the Age to Be
Today is Billa's birthday and I'm having a hard time thinking of what to write. It's difficult for me to fathom that my baby is growing up!
It seems like just yesterday that she was placed on my belly, a squalling little pink-skinned bundle. I remember staring at her, half-delirious from no sleep for two months and half mesmerized by the realization that she was finally here. Holding her in my arms that day, I had a difficult time processing that she was mine. I made this, I remember thinking. Here is my heart, outside my body. She snuggled close and I held her in my arms as we both slept.
I should have known that was a taste of things to come! These days, Billa is a blur of activity and motion. She runs everywhere, climbs everything, and is hopping and bouncing from place to place as she soaks in the world around her. Stillness is anathema to every fiber of her being, and "hold still" might as well be said in any other language besides English, it's so foreign to her! As much as I've desired for her to grow, explore, and discover, I creep up beside her at night to watch her as she sleeps. It's the only time she's still long enough for me to drink in her every feature and breath in her little girl scent. It's only been recently that she's been sleeping in her own bed, and I still sometimes feel that loss when I wake up without her snuggled in my arms. My heart aches to hold my baby close.
Billa surprises me every single day with yet another concept she's grasped or words she's learned and I experience joy at seeing the world anew through her eyes. I believe that she is part of the source of my new-found optimism in life. How can you not hold a sunny view when you see things from the perspective of a curious toddler? Everything is magical and shiny and new! I am so grateful to God for giving me this life with her.
We will be celebrating Billa's birthday quietly today, enjoying her favorite foods, going to her favorite places and spending time together as a family. A few months ago, I didn't think Billa would ever have that opportunity again, and yet here we are, still together and still committed. Our daughter is definitely an inspiration towards that goal. She deserves nothing less than our best efforts at working on our marriage and our commitment to be better people.
Sugary, you have graced our lives with sweetness and wonder. We are so grateful for your presence and the light you bring to our lives. Happy 3rd birthday, love! May you have many more!
Love,
Mama and Daddy
It seems like just yesterday that she was placed on my belly, a squalling little pink-skinned bundle. I remember staring at her, half-delirious from no sleep for two months and half mesmerized by the realization that she was finally here. Holding her in my arms that day, I had a difficult time processing that she was mine. I made this, I remember thinking. Here is my heart, outside my body. She snuggled close and I held her in my arms as we both slept.
Was it only three years ago we looked upon you with wonder, little bit?
I should have known that was a taste of things to come! These days, Billa is a blur of activity and motion. She runs everywhere, climbs everything, and is hopping and bouncing from place to place as she soaks in the world around her. Stillness is anathema to every fiber of her being, and "hold still" might as well be said in any other language besides English, it's so foreign to her! As much as I've desired for her to grow, explore, and discover, I creep up beside her at night to watch her as she sleeps. It's the only time she's still long enough for me to drink in her every feature and breath in her little girl scent. It's only been recently that she's been sleeping in her own bed, and I still sometimes feel that loss when I wake up without her snuggled in my arms. My heart aches to hold my baby close.
She moves so fast, I can't even take decent photos of her half the time!
Billa surprises me every single day with yet another concept she's grasped or words she's learned and I experience joy at seeing the world anew through her eyes. I believe that she is part of the source of my new-found optimism in life. How can you not hold a sunny view when you see things from the perspective of a curious toddler? Everything is magical and shiny and new! I am so grateful to God for giving me this life with her.
So much spunk, from head to toe!
We will be celebrating Billa's birthday quietly today, enjoying her favorite foods, going to her favorite places and spending time together as a family. A few months ago, I didn't think Billa would ever have that opportunity again, and yet here we are, still together and still committed. Our daughter is definitely an inspiration towards that goal. She deserves nothing less than our best efforts at working on our marriage and our commitment to be better people.
Sugary, you have graced our lives with sweetness and wonder. We are so grateful for your presence and the light you bring to our lives. Happy 3rd birthday, love! May you have many more!
Love,
Mama and Daddy
Friday, February 18, 2011
Red Writing Hood: What-a-Shirt
There were two of them.
Large white baseball style T's with bright orange raglan sleeves and the trademark orange W emblazoned across the breast. They were given away as part of a grand opening ceremony for another Whataburger. While they were most frequently worn by Daddy whenever he did any kind of sweaty man work around the house, they were communal property. They performed double duty as nightgowns for me and play shirts for my brothers. They sheltered Mama from the sun when she was outside with the horses. And when one of them was falling apart, it served as rags to clean the crystal. It was Shel Silverstein's giving tree in T-shirt form.
I'd taken one of them to college with me, wearing it as my dad did and then some. It was my armor when I had a bad breakup and needed stability. It was my uniform when I was ill and needed comfort. It was a reminder that I was loved, a physical representation of Daddy's hugs when I was little and thought he was Superman. I would swaddle myself in it, stroking the soft folds between my fingers, the adult version of sucking my thumb. It was instantly subduing and calmed me from within. Nothing could touch me in that shirt.
I wish I had one of them now. In what started out as a decent day quickly turned sour when Michael called with the news that he'd be job searching again. His store was closing, another victim to the economy and changing technology. It seemed like it was only yesterday that we'd finally found calm waters and now we were being tossed around in the storm one more time. I wanted to run from the world's troubles and hide from all our hardships. I wanted to wrap my body in thin, faded orange cotton and curl up someplace cool and dark until the unfairness of life abated.
But the shirts are lost and gone forever. I know, because I've looked for mine every time I clean out my closets. Somewhere in the course of moving from apartment to apartment in the ten years since I left home, it quietly disappeared without so much as a backward glance. I still hold out hope that I'll find it tucked away in a box somewhere, still soft and streaked with ancient grease stains, pocked with tiny holes where the cotton wore too thin. Occasionally I am treated to a tangible memory of the shirt when I pick up a cashmere sweater or silk blouse. It was nothing but simple cotton, but years of wear and love elevated it to the same tactile sensation as those elegant, costly fibers. I've searched my parents' house for its twin, hoping I might find it folded away in a closet or stashed in the bottom of the rag bag in the mudroom, but alas, it too passed from this plane of existence a long time ago.
As I contemplate the day's events and struggle to keep calm and carry on, I think about that old Whataburger shirt. I might not be able to wrap myself up in it anymore, but remembering the shirt is balm for my soul. Its memory serves as a gentle reminder that we'll get past this bump in the road too, just like we have everything else.
Life will go on, with or without a T-shirt.
This post was written as part of the The Red Dress Club. This week's prompt was to write a piece (600 word limit) about finding a forgotten item of clothing in the back of a drawer or closet, letting readers know how the item was found, what it is, and why it's so meaningful to you or your character.
Large white baseball style T's with bright orange raglan sleeves and the trademark orange W emblazoned across the breast. They were given away as part of a grand opening ceremony for another Whataburger. While they were most frequently worn by Daddy whenever he did any kind of sweaty man work around the house, they were communal property. They performed double duty as nightgowns for me and play shirts for my brothers. They sheltered Mama from the sun when she was outside with the horses. And when one of them was falling apart, it served as rags to clean the crystal. It was Shel Silverstein's giving tree in T-shirt form.
I'd taken one of them to college with me, wearing it as my dad did and then some. It was my armor when I had a bad breakup and needed stability. It was my uniform when I was ill and needed comfort. It was a reminder that I was loved, a physical representation of Daddy's hugs when I was little and thought he was Superman. I would swaddle myself in it, stroking the soft folds between my fingers, the adult version of sucking my thumb. It was instantly subduing and calmed me from within. Nothing could touch me in that shirt.
I wish I had one of them now. In what started out as a decent day quickly turned sour when Michael called with the news that he'd be job searching again. His store was closing, another victim to the economy and changing technology. It seemed like it was only yesterday that we'd finally found calm waters and now we were being tossed around in the storm one more time. I wanted to run from the world's troubles and hide from all our hardships. I wanted to wrap my body in thin, faded orange cotton and curl up someplace cool and dark until the unfairness of life abated.
But the shirts are lost and gone forever. I know, because I've looked for mine every time I clean out my closets. Somewhere in the course of moving from apartment to apartment in the ten years since I left home, it quietly disappeared without so much as a backward glance. I still hold out hope that I'll find it tucked away in a box somewhere, still soft and streaked with ancient grease stains, pocked with tiny holes where the cotton wore too thin. Occasionally I am treated to a tangible memory of the shirt when I pick up a cashmere sweater or silk blouse. It was nothing but simple cotton, but years of wear and love elevated it to the same tactile sensation as those elegant, costly fibers. I've searched my parents' house for its twin, hoping I might find it folded away in a closet or stashed in the bottom of the rag bag in the mudroom, but alas, it too passed from this plane of existence a long time ago.
As I contemplate the day's events and struggle to keep calm and carry on, I think about that old Whataburger shirt. I might not be able to wrap myself up in it anymore, but remembering the shirt is balm for my soul. Its memory serves as a gentle reminder that we'll get past this bump in the road too, just like we have everything else.
Life will go on, with or without a T-shirt.
This post was written as part of the The Red Dress Club. This week's prompt was to write a piece (600 word limit) about finding a forgotten item of clothing in the back of a drawer or closet, letting readers know how the item was found, what it is, and why it's so meaningful to you or your character.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Red Writing Hood: Then the World Shifted
Neither Hair Nor There
I could never have imagined how much it would change me.
It was the stuff of fantasy novels. Not quite curly, not quite straight, and so full of volume I never needed hairspray.The cascade of fiery red locks that fell in waves over my shoulders and down my back drew compliments left and right:
“Oh, it’s such a gorgeous color!” they’d moon.
“Is it natural?” they’d say disbelievingly.
“I wish I had hair that thick and healthy,” they’d pine.
Through the sticky hot Texas summers I bore the weight of that cursed blessing, wearing it piled in a knot atop my head, the massive mop too thick and heavy to do anything else with in the torrid heat. I’d complain and threaten to cut it, always to be badgered by my friends and family: “But it’s so pretty! Why would you want to cut it off?” You can have it! I wanted to scream at them. I’m tired of the ponytail, tired of the nicknames, tired of feeling so plain!
But I couldn’t bring myself to step out of my safe little box.I could never look good with short hair, I told myself.I didn’t have the bone structure, and it would just look awful.My insecurities waged war with my inner hot mama and won every time I thought I might try something different.I fooled myself into believing that the compliments were enough and that it didn’t matter what I thought.
And then came the summer that everything changed.My marriage fell apart and my life went to hell in a hand basket.I lost almost 20 pounds, started seeing a therapist, and had some of my worst mommy moments ever.The woman staring back at me in the mirror was no longer scared and insecure.She was hungry and the look in her eyes told me she meant business.
Suddenly, I didn’t give a rat’s ass what my insecurities said anymore.I didn’t care what people thought.I’d allowed their words and thinly veiled threats to take root in my soul and shred any sense of confidence I possessed. So what if it looked stupid? So what if it looked awful? I didn’t care. It’s just hair, I told myself. Woman up!
I crawled out of the little black hole of despair I’d called reality and started combing Google and gossip websites for inspirations, ripped pictures out of fashion mags at the doctor’s office, and repeated my mantra in the mirror every day: “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back."
I sat in front of the salon mirror, watching as the hairdresser behind me finished picking at individual pieces of the side swept pixie cut he’d razored into those thick red tresses. The remnants of what had been lay on the floor, mixing in with the brown and blonde of previous clientele.
“Well?” he asked.
I stared back at the woman in the mirror and nearly burst into tears.
She was gorgeous. She was sexy. And she was me.
“I love it,” I said with a vehemence that startled everyone around me except the hairdresser. He grinned.
I sauntered out of the salon and the whole world shifted.
Total Word Count: 522
This post was written in response to this week's prompt by the Red Dress Club. The prompt asked to write a piece that begins with the line, "I could never have imagined" and end with the line, "Then the whole world shifted" with a max word count of 600. I welcome and appreciate any and all feedback!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
2011 100+ Reading Challenge: January
Here is the summary of books I've read in the month of January for the 2011 100+ Reading Challenge from Overstuffed Bookshelf! I've tried to give some info about the book, especially about genre, etc. If you have any questions, feel free to ask! All of these books are available on Amazon or elsewhere.
1-6. Fruits Basket vols. 18-23 by Natsuki Takaya - shojo manga series, this counts as six entries since it's six different books! Great series featuring a supernatural element, teenage romance, etc.
7. Bloodroot by Amy Greene - contemporary fiction, bestseller, about families and their dynamics, has a little bit of supernatural elements in it, features the Appalachian region of the US. I give this one 5 stars!
8. Onegai, Teacher vol. 1 by Yosuke Kuroda - shojo manga series about a teenage boy who finds himself in strange circumstances when he discovers that his new teacher is an alien! A bit silly, but fun nonetheless. I have yet to read anymore of the series, but I really enjoyed the first volume.
9-12. Protector of the Small series, by Tamora Pierce - young adult series with fantasy elements. Tamora Pierce is my all time favorite author, and I'd started this series years ago but never finished. Great story about a young woman who wants to become a knight and the struggles she endures on that road. This series builds on a previous one, the Song of the Lioness series, but you don't need to read those to enjoy this one! Perfect for the tween in your life.
So that's my January recap! I'm already onto some other things and will be sure to share those at the end of February!
Happy reading,
Kelly
Friday, January 7, 2011
2011 100+ Reading Challenge
I love reading. I am voracious about it. There's a rule in our house that I'm not allowed to read fictional books until the weekend, because otherwise, I'll stay up all night to read them. I read pretty fast, too. I finished the last Harry Potter book in under 8 hours and 15 minutes (that's including potty and snack breaks). So I am beyond stoked to participate in a reading challenge for this year! Reading 100 books is going to be easy for me, so I've decided to step it up a notch by choosing to read books in other genres. This ties in nicely with my resolution this year to really challenge myself as a writer. I'm not sure yet how I'm going to list my books, but I'll start with a sidebar that lists the books I've read and then do a monthly post that includes a summary overview of everything I've read. If you like to read, feel free to join too!
1. The goal is to read 100 or more books. Anyone can join. You don't need a blog to participate. Posting on GoodReads or wherever you post your reviews is good enough.
2. Audio, Re-reads, eBooks, YA, Manga, Graphic Novels, Library books, Novellas, Young Reader, Nonfiction – as long as the book has an ISBN or equivalent or can be purchased as such, the book counts. What doesn't count: Individual short stories or individual books in the Bible.
3. No need to list your books in advance. You may select books as you go. Even if you list them now, you can change the list if needed.
4. Crossovers from other reading challenges count.
5. Challenge begins January 1st thru December, 2011. Books started before the 1st do not count. You can join at anytime.
6. When you sign up under Mr. Linky at the Overstuffed Bookshelf, put the direct link to your post where your books will be listed. Include the URL to this post so that other viewers can find this fun challenge. If you’d prefer to put your list in the sidebar of your blog, please leave your viewers the link to the sign up page. Again, so viewers can join the challenge too.
Happy reading!
Kelly
Hosted by Overstuffed Bookshelf
1. The goal is to read 100 or more books. Anyone can join. You don't need a blog to participate. Posting on GoodReads or wherever you post your reviews is good enough.
2. Audio, Re-reads, eBooks, YA, Manga, Graphic Novels, Library books, Novellas, Young Reader, Nonfiction – as long as the book has an ISBN or equivalent or can be purchased as such, the book counts. What doesn't count: Individual short stories or individual books in the Bible.
3. No need to list your books in advance. You may select books as you go. Even if you list them now, you can change the list if needed.
4. Crossovers from other reading challenges count.
5. Challenge begins January 1st thru December, 2011. Books started before the 1st do not count. You can join at anytime.
6. When you sign up under Mr. Linky at the Overstuffed Bookshelf, put the direct link to your post where your books will be listed. Include the URL to this post so that other viewers can find this fun challenge. If you’d prefer to put your list in the sidebar of your blog, please leave your viewers the link to the sign up page. Again, so viewers can join the challenge too.
Happy reading!
Kelly
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Nanowrimo 2010: WINNER!!!
I submitted my word count to Nanowrimo.org and I was rewarded with this image:
Huzzah! I finished my novel this morning with 50,010 words. Well, according to Nanowrimo, anyway. My word counter on Scrivener had about 60 more words, so I'm not really sure what Nanowrimo isn't counting, but who cares? I won, dammit!
It feels so good to claim victory, especially a little bit early. I spent about four hours Saturday night and pounded out almost 8,000 words before I gave into the siren call of sleep. And then this morning, Michael was really sweet and took Billa to the park so that I could finish the last 1,800 words and post my victory. Not ten seconds after I finished whooping and hollering over my win, my husband and daughter walked in the door and saw me grinning like an idiot. He knew why I was so happy and we celebrated by purchasing a bottle of wine to enjoy with our dinner and movie for this evening.
I am so relieved to have finished. I gladly took on the challenge and while I am proud of my accomplishment, I didn't realize how much pressure and stress I was feeling from the challenge! But like last year, I learned so much about myself and my writing. As I mentioned previously, I had started with another idea, but nixed it in favor of an older one. I'm glad I did, because I am looking forward to editing that story soon. It's total crap right now, but with a little hacking here and there, I think it will be much better. i also learned a lot about where I need to improve my skills as a writer. I'm good at dialogue, plotting, and characterization, but I need to do some serious work on describing things and figuring out how to tease the details to keep the reader engaged.
I'm also relieved because during the course of this year's challenge, I came up with several more novel ideas and now I can actually start them!
Thank you to all of the wonderful people at Nanowrimo for putting together this year's challenge and especially to all my friends and family for encouraging me to keep going. I want to give a shout out to my friends Victoria and Michelle for joining me in the challenge and helping to keep me on track and moving along. I hope you two are winners too!
Excitedly yours,
Kelly
It feels so good to claim victory, especially a little bit early. I spent about four hours Saturday night and pounded out almost 8,000 words before I gave into the siren call of sleep. And then this morning, Michael was really sweet and took Billa to the park so that I could finish the last 1,800 words and post my victory. Not ten seconds after I finished whooping and hollering over my win, my husband and daughter walked in the door and saw me grinning like an idiot. He knew why I was so happy and we celebrated by purchasing a bottle of wine to enjoy with our dinner and movie for this evening.
I am so relieved to have finished. I gladly took on the challenge and while I am proud of my accomplishment, I didn't realize how much pressure and stress I was feeling from the challenge! But like last year, I learned so much about myself and my writing. As I mentioned previously, I had started with another idea, but nixed it in favor of an older one. I'm glad I did, because I am looking forward to editing that story soon. It's total crap right now, but with a little hacking here and there, I think it will be much better. i also learned a lot about where I need to improve my skills as a writer. I'm good at dialogue, plotting, and characterization, but I need to do some serious work on describing things and figuring out how to tease the details to keep the reader engaged.
I'm also relieved because during the course of this year's challenge, I came up with several more novel ideas and now I can actually start them!
Thank you to all of the wonderful people at Nanowrimo for putting together this year's challenge and especially to all my friends and family for encouraging me to keep going. I want to give a shout out to my friends Victoria and Michelle for joining me in the challenge and helping to keep me on track and moving along. I hope you two are winners too!
Excitedly yours,
Kelly
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Writing Woes: An update on NaNoWriMo 2010
I have to say that Nanowrimo is kicking my butt this year although I'm a bit ahead of where I was last go 'round. As of this writing, I have finally reached the halfway mark of 25,000 words. Woot! But I'm still struggling with it. I should have hit that mark Monday night and instead I hit it Thursday at lunchtime. I have to hit 37,500 this upcoming Monday night if I want to stay on track.
As one of the pep talk emails said, "I've been Week Two'd."
It's traditional to start the month roaring and to finish the month mewing like a lamb. Week Two is typically where a alot of writers stumble. The pizazz they started with has fizzled and they're starting to really question the soundness of the decision they made. I started the month scrambling for an idea that I felt I could commit myself to and yet, the idea I came up with just didn't resonate after five days. I know, I probably should have stuck with it, but I had such an aversion to it that there was no way words were going to fly out of my finges. So I scrapped it.
By this point, of course, two of my writing buddies were way ahead of me. Crap, I thought. [cue dramatic moan] What am I gonna write about?! I started digging through the scrap pile of my hard drive. There is a folder on my desktop entitled "Kelly's Writing" - any idea I have, any manuscript I'm working on, journal entries I've written, they all end up in that little blue folder that stares at me every day. The scrap pile revealed to me that I had a story idea I'd ben entertaining in the back of my brain for almost three years. I totally lucked out because I even had close to 5000 words already written of it! Technically, it's cheating, yes, but I'd already written 5000 words of the other story, so it's all a wash at the end of the day. I put in the effort, dammit, and twice at that!
So this buried treasure is what I've been working on but I keep finding myself getting distracted. I've had to go so far as to turn of my web browser, because otherwise, I'll be tempted to lurk through Facebook, or blog troll, or look up other random useless trivia to lock away into the recesses of my brain. Yeah, that's my life. Great, isn't it?
I was really proud of myself for banging out almost 5000 words this morning and I hope to repeat it tomorrow so that I can get a little bit closer to 37500 by Monday. It won't be easy, but I know that I am more inclined to met deadlines hen they're hanging over my head. Nothing like the proverbial feeling of "do it or die!" to get ya going in the morning!
And this time, I am determined to actually take time and edit the story once it's written. It may still be crap after I've hacked it apart a few times, but if I'm ever going to be a published writer (notice I didn't say REAL writer...that's a sound off waiting to happen, mark my words!), I need to get to a point where I can actually feel confident about my work to send it to an agent.
So here's to 50k and beyond...12 more days to hammer out 24,858 words!
Cheers,
Kelly
As one of the pep talk emails said, "I've been Week Two'd."
It's traditional to start the month roaring and to finish the month mewing like a lamb. Week Two is typically where a alot of writers stumble. The pizazz they started with has fizzled and they're starting to really question the soundness of the decision they made. I started the month scrambling for an idea that I felt I could commit myself to and yet, the idea I came up with just didn't resonate after five days. I know, I probably should have stuck with it, but I had such an aversion to it that there was no way words were going to fly out of my finges. So I scrapped it.
By this point, of course, two of my writing buddies were way ahead of me. Crap, I thought. [cue dramatic moan] What am I gonna write about?! I started digging through the scrap pile of my hard drive. There is a folder on my desktop entitled "Kelly's Writing" - any idea I have, any manuscript I'm working on, journal entries I've written, they all end up in that little blue folder that stares at me every day. The scrap pile revealed to me that I had a story idea I'd ben entertaining in the back of my brain for almost three years. I totally lucked out because I even had close to 5000 words already written of it! Technically, it's cheating, yes, but I'd already written 5000 words of the other story, so it's all a wash at the end of the day. I put in the effort, dammit, and twice at that!
So this buried treasure is what I've been working on but I keep finding myself getting distracted. I've had to go so far as to turn of my web browser, because otherwise, I'll be tempted to lurk through Facebook, or blog troll, or look up other random useless trivia to lock away into the recesses of my brain. Yeah, that's my life. Great, isn't it?
I was really proud of myself for banging out almost 5000 words this morning and I hope to repeat it tomorrow so that I can get a little bit closer to 37500 by Monday. It won't be easy, but I know that I am more inclined to met deadlines hen they're hanging over my head. Nothing like the proverbial feeling of "do it or die!" to get ya going in the morning!
And this time, I am determined to actually take time and edit the story once it's written. It may still be crap after I've hacked it apart a few times, but if I'm ever going to be a published writer (notice I didn't say REAL writer...that's a sound off waiting to happen, mark my words!), I need to get to a point where I can actually feel confident about my work to send it to an agent.
So here's to 50k and beyond...12 more days to hammer out 24,858 words!
Cheers,
Kelly
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Parenting Paroxysm and Other Randomness
You know what vexes me?
The fact that my child can remember almost two weeks later that the yard two doors down from her daycare had Halloween decorations out the wazoo ("Puh-kin patch gone, Mama. Puh-kin patch GONE!") but she can't remember me telling her not to stomp through the house not two seconds ago. Why is that?!
I love Billa's sense of fashion. Not only does she love bright colors (like me), funky footwear (also like me), but she sure loves layering and looking as strange as possible (definitely just like me!). Observe:
This is what Billa chose to wear to church a couple of Sundays ago. I have to say, it could be worse (And yes, she insisted on accessorizing with my keys and the shopping bags). Most days we pretty much let her choose what she wears with our only input being whether or not something is weather appropriate. In my opinion, I love the fact that she marches to the beat of her own drummer and as far as I'm concerned, I could really care less most days what she wears. It won't be long before society starts holding her to their beliefs as to how things should be, so I think letting her experiment is perfectly A-OK. Let her innocence and spunk shine through while it can, I say!
My Nano novel is coming along. I started with a different idea and after writing about 5k words, I realized my heart just wasn't in that novel. I kept thinking about this dream I'd had three years ago and the plot I'd created around it. So I figured after three years of thinking about it, playing with it, and dreaming it, now was the time for me to just suck it up and finally write it. I mean, come on, what was I waiting for anyway? I'm farther behind than I'd like, but I'm happy with the story and content to see where it goes. I need to try and hit 25k words by Sunday night; we'll see what happens! I am determined to finish this novel if it kills me (ok, well maybe not that extreme), but more than that, I'm finally ready to put the effort and time into editing it and actually having other people read it and see what happens with it. I've never actually bothered to try and publish any of my writing before, but I think that if I'm going to try and actually be a writer, well, I should probably actually make an effort at submitting it to an agent and see what happens, shouldn't I? I'll keep you posted on that!
Anyhoo, if I'm going to get anywhere close to 25k words by Sunday night, I better get cracking.
Love,
Kelly
The fact that my child can remember almost two weeks later that the yard two doors down from her daycare had Halloween decorations out the wazoo ("Puh-kin patch gone, Mama. Puh-kin patch GONE!") but she can't remember me telling her not to stomp through the house not two seconds ago. Why is that?!
I love Billa's sense of fashion. Not only does she love bright colors (like me), funky footwear (also like me), but she sure loves layering and looking as strange as possible (definitely just like me!). Observe:
This is what Billa chose to wear to church a couple of Sundays ago. I have to say, it could be worse (And yes, she insisted on accessorizing with my keys and the shopping bags). Most days we pretty much let her choose what she wears with our only input being whether or not something is weather appropriate. In my opinion, I love the fact that she marches to the beat of her own drummer and as far as I'm concerned, I could really care less most days what she wears. It won't be long before society starts holding her to their beliefs as to how things should be, so I think letting her experiment is perfectly A-OK. Let her innocence and spunk shine through while it can, I say!
My Nano novel is coming along. I started with a different idea and after writing about 5k words, I realized my heart just wasn't in that novel. I kept thinking about this dream I'd had three years ago and the plot I'd created around it. So I figured after three years of thinking about it, playing with it, and dreaming it, now was the time for me to just suck it up and finally write it. I mean, come on, what was I waiting for anyway? I'm farther behind than I'd like, but I'm happy with the story and content to see where it goes. I need to try and hit 25k words by Sunday night; we'll see what happens! I am determined to finish this novel if it kills me (ok, well maybe not that extreme), but more than that, I'm finally ready to put the effort and time into editing it and actually having other people read it and see what happens with it. I've never actually bothered to try and publish any of my writing before, but I think that if I'm going to try and actually be a writer, well, I should probably actually make an effort at submitting it to an agent and see what happens, shouldn't I? I'll keep you posted on that!
Anyhoo, if I'm going to get anywhere close to 25k words by Sunday night, I better get cracking.
Love,
Kelly
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Nanowrimo 2010!
Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit! I just completed my registration for National Novel Writing Month and I AM PUMPED!!!
The actual event doesn't begin until November 1st, but I'm taking a page from the Boy Scouts and am going into it prepared. Last year I practiced the art of "fly by the seat of thy pants", which turned out pretty well, at least in terms of actually finishing a novel. Whether that novel was actually readable is another matter altogether. To be honest, I finished it and never picked it up again. It may not be that bad, but I'm too scared to even peek. That's why this year I am practicing the art of "having a plan a, b, and possibly even c".
I haven't really thought about what I am going to write about, but I have several plot ideas that I've been hording on my hard drive (my mother would be so proud) that I am going to look through. One or two of them I actually started to map out earlier in the year before The Worst Summer Ever occurred. Whatever plot I decide to choose, it has to be something that I don't mind thinking, eating, drinking, sleeping, and breathing over for 30 days.
Drama. Intrigue. Anticipation. Long nights and early mornings. Laughter, crazed or otherwise. 400+ cups of coffee or black tea. Equity screams. 30 days. 50,000 words. One novel.
BRING IT.
Kelly
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Ramblings on Writing
I apologize in advance...this post takes a different tack than normal.
I've been doing a lot of thinking about my writing lately. If Billa's godmother Debi were to read this, she'd tell me I need to actually write, not think about it. But the truth is, I was writing. And then I stopped because life got in the way and yada yada yada. I've been trying to maintain my blogs, work my day job, raise my daughter, manage my household, build a baking business, and be a good wife/friend/daughter/sister, etc. It's a lot. So of course, those things that aren't necessary for survival have fallen by the wayside, like my writing. I admit, I've also been doing a lot of reading lately and playing Scramble on my iPod and trying to beat Final Fantasy XIII. I know, those things aren't exactly essential to survival, but they are for my sanity.
I've been thinking about writing lately, because I want it to become a bigger part of my life. It's always been something that I've been called to, something that has always given me joy, and something that definitely always challenged me. I get bored very quickly if I'm not challenged. I require constant stimulation and to be pushed beyond my boundaries. Some might call it masochism, others ADD. I don't really care. It's actually a part of me that I really like and love to embrace, for all of the irritations it presents me with. I look at it as my instincts urging me to grab life by the horns.
There are only 24 hours in every day, and unfortunately, I can't get more. I have to get sleep at some point, and I have to work to make an income. So that shoots down about 19 hours right there. Everything that I want to do has to be squeezed into roughly 5 hours every day along with everything else I have to do: cook dinner, spend time with my family and friends, clean the house, etc. So how can I fit in writing? I find a lot of frustrations with it because I am easily distracted once I'm on the computer either by news, blogs, the husband, or the daughter. And of course my family wants to spend time with me too. (I know, how dare they?) I have to carefully balance all these aspects of my life and poor little writing gets left by the wayside.
But not anymore. I've always wanted to be a published writer. I even went so far as to humiliate myself in front of my high school classmates in freshman English by boasting about how I would become a published writer at the age of 18 (oh, the things one does for their art!). I've been writing since I was a kid, I wrote all through school, and I have continued to write to this day. I feel confident that I am a decent writer, but I think I could be a great writer if I kept at it every day. And the only way I can do that is to keep at it and make it a constant part of my life.
I've been doing research the last few days on novel writing strategies and templates for developing plots and characters and structure. And the one thing I've learned from all of this research is that there is a whole world to writing and publishing that I never knew existed. Well, ok, I should give myself some credit. I knew it existed, but I didn't realize how complex it all was. There's query letters and writing conferences and genre types that you have to know. There's loglines, synopses, samples, previews and more. And the process itself! It's enough to make your head spin. I came to the realization that I have a lot to learn if I want to break into this industry and make my mark on the world as a writer.
I relish the challenge and I hope you will all bear with me as I work at developing my novels (yes, there is more than one rattling around in my head!) and hopefully soemday, get published. I'm hoping to have at least something published by the time I'm 35. Considering I still have 7 years until then, I think I handle it.
Cheers,
Kelly
I've been doing a lot of thinking about my writing lately. If Billa's godmother Debi were to read this, she'd tell me I need to actually write, not think about it. But the truth is, I was writing. And then I stopped because life got in the way and yada yada yada. I've been trying to maintain my blogs, work my day job, raise my daughter, manage my household, build a baking business, and be a good wife/friend/daughter/sister, etc. It's a lot. So of course, those things that aren't necessary for survival have fallen by the wayside, like my writing. I admit, I've also been doing a lot of reading lately and playing Scramble on my iPod and trying to beat Final Fantasy XIII. I know, those things aren't exactly essential to survival, but they are for my sanity.
I've been thinking about writing lately, because I want it to become a bigger part of my life. It's always been something that I've been called to, something that has always given me joy, and something that definitely always challenged me. I get bored very quickly if I'm not challenged. I require constant stimulation and to be pushed beyond my boundaries. Some might call it masochism, others ADD. I don't really care. It's actually a part of me that I really like and love to embrace, for all of the irritations it presents me with. I look at it as my instincts urging me to grab life by the horns.
There are only 24 hours in every day, and unfortunately, I can't get more. I have to get sleep at some point, and I have to work to make an income. So that shoots down about 19 hours right there. Everything that I want to do has to be squeezed into roughly 5 hours every day along with everything else I have to do: cook dinner, spend time with my family and friends, clean the house, etc. So how can I fit in writing? I find a lot of frustrations with it because I am easily distracted once I'm on the computer either by news, blogs, the husband, or the daughter. And of course my family wants to spend time with me too. (I know, how dare they?) I have to carefully balance all these aspects of my life and poor little writing gets left by the wayside.
But not anymore. I've always wanted to be a published writer. I even went so far as to humiliate myself in front of my high school classmates in freshman English by boasting about how I would become a published writer at the age of 18 (oh, the things one does for their art!). I've been writing since I was a kid, I wrote all through school, and I have continued to write to this day. I feel confident that I am a decent writer, but I think I could be a great writer if I kept at it every day. And the only way I can do that is to keep at it and make it a constant part of my life.
I've been doing research the last few days on novel writing strategies and templates for developing plots and characters and structure. And the one thing I've learned from all of this research is that there is a whole world to writing and publishing that I never knew existed. Well, ok, I should give myself some credit. I knew it existed, but I didn't realize how complex it all was. There's query letters and writing conferences and genre types that you have to know. There's loglines, synopses, samples, previews and more. And the process itself! It's enough to make your head spin. I came to the realization that I have a lot to learn if I want to break into this industry and make my mark on the world as a writer.
I relish the challenge and I hope you will all bear with me as I work at developing my novels (yes, there is more than one rattling around in my head!) and hopefully soemday, get published. I'm hoping to have at least something published by the time I'm 35. Considering I still have 7 years until then, I think I handle it.
Cheers,
Kelly
Monday, November 30, 2009
I DID IT!!!
I wrote a novel in thirty days! 50,000 words, many tears, sleepless nights, nightmares, a lot of distractions and a long illness later, I am an official NaNoWriMo winner!!! I can't even begin to describe how great it feels to say that out loud. I think I'm going to cry and laugh and dance all at the same time. And then I'm going to go run some errands, pick up my husband and child, and have a celebratory dinner of Thanksgiving leftovers.
I wrote a novel, I wrote a novel, I wrote a novel! Yay me! I did it and I am still in shock that I managed to come back at the 11th hour and finish it up. I almost thought I wouldn't make it. I am torn as to whether or not I'll let anyone read it before I decide to take a hack and edit it up some. One thing is for sure, though: I don't want to look at that thing for at least a week!
Time to kick back and just enjoy my evenings again. And then, maybe I'll start to form another novel, lol.
Thanks for all the encouragement and kind words from everyone and for following along on this wild wacky torturous journey I decided to embark on. I can't wait to see what happens next!
Cheers,
Kelly
Sunday, November 29, 2009
NaNoWriMo Word Count Update #11
I have a little over 24 hours to finish my novel and I am at 45,037 words! Only 4,963 more to go! But I must sleep first...I stayed up way later than I intended anyway and I am still sick. Onwards and upwards!
Miserably fighting and writing illness,
Kelly
Miserably fighting and writing illness,
Kelly
Saturday, November 28, 2009
NaNoWriMo Word Count Update #10
Only 11,906 words to go and three days left! I just submitted some more words to my word count on NaNoWriMo.org and my grand total is now 38,096!!!! While that is exciting, I am very bummed that I was not able to do more writing since Wednesday evening. I've only written 2,924 words since then, which is a lot, but time's a ticking. I'm really hoping that whatever is ailing me won't prevent me from finishing the novel by midnight on Monday. On our way home from College Station Thursday I felt my throat getting really sore and by 10 pm that night, I was passed out and in pain. All of us are sick here in the Guerra household and it would appear that the culprit is some sort of sinus infection thing.
Sybilla's had a runny nose since Monday and it's now coupled with a terrible cough (from all of that drainage) and poor Michael has been ill since Tuesday. The only good to come of this was that last night we were able to put Billa to bed WITHOUT A PACIFIER. Her nose is so stopped up that having one has made it hard for her to breathe. She'll suck suck suck and then spit it out gasping and pop it back in again. We're hoping that maybe we can use this to start kicking the Bubba once and for all, but we're not pushing too hard as we've been way too lax in letting her have it whenever she wants now that both of us are sick. [sigh] Sybilla and I went to Target this morning to restock the medicine cabinet, so hopefully we will all feel right as rain before Monday. I can't afford to take any more time off!
I am going to continue doing some writing this evening and into tomorrow and try to finish up by Monday night. 12,000 words are all that stands between me and NaNoWriMo glory and I intend on getting that dang purple banner whether it kills me or not!
Happy writing,
Kelly
Sybilla's had a runny nose since Monday and it's now coupled with a terrible cough (from all of that drainage) and poor Michael has been ill since Tuesday. The only good to come of this was that last night we were able to put Billa to bed WITHOUT A PACIFIER. Her nose is so stopped up that having one has made it hard for her to breathe. She'll suck suck suck and then spit it out gasping and pop it back in again. We're hoping that maybe we can use this to start kicking the Bubba once and for all, but we're not pushing too hard as we've been way too lax in letting her have it whenever she wants now that both of us are sick. [sigh] Sybilla and I went to Target this morning to restock the medicine cabinet, so hopefully we will all feel right as rain before Monday. I can't afford to take any more time off!
I am going to continue doing some writing this evening and into tomorrow and try to finish up by Monday night. 12,000 words are all that stands between me and NaNoWriMo glory and I intend on getting that dang purple banner whether it kills me or not!
Happy writing,
Kelly
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