Honorable Mention #3

Well, I got a call back on my Library Adult Writing Contest submission. Remember the one that was giving me fits? Here's the phone call:

Lady: Mrs. X, you won Honorable Mention #3 for the Library Adult Writing Contest in the Personal Essay category!

Me: Oh!

Lady: Honorable Mention is good. There were a lot of entries.

Me: Great!

Lady: We will be having a reception to honor the winners, did you get the post card?

Me: Yes--um, did you say Honorable Mention #3?

Lady: Yes.

Me: (Huh?) What exactly does that mean?

Lady: There is a first and second place; then we number place the Honorable Mentions and you are #3. It is still a great honor.

Me: (You've said that twice and I'm beginning to wonder...) Yes, well, I wasn't trying to say it wasn't; I just didn't understand.

Lady: (Sweetly) I've been writing for a long time and I've never won anything. So, once again, congratulations!

Me: (That was nice) Thank you. Good-bye.

So, levels in Honorable Mention--who would have thought it? Oh, well...I'll take it!

Lost Valentine

Okay, my sweetheart isn't lost, in fact, he's working right now. But I had to use the title because in spite of Valentine's day we are having the LOST party tonight. Or maybe it's to SPITE Valentine's day.

I love all things romantic, don't get me wrong. I'm a girlie girl when it comes to that. I love flowers; I love beautiful cards with more beautiful words in them; and I adore chocolate. BUT, I hate the expectation to do it on a certain day and how it makes people feel left out. Yuck!

Yesterday while I was waiting to pick up my teenage daughter, I saw girls walking out of the school building holding carnations.

I cringed.

Did my daughter feel alone today because no one gave her one? I suddenly had the urge to rush in and buy all the flowers to stop the madness. I spotted her walking towards me with her golden hair flipping in the wind and a red carnation in her hands.

Whew.

Ugh.

I hate this.

Today she took money to buy flowers for her friends who may not get one. Now THAT is a sweet heart.

For anyone that's feeling LOST on Valentine's day, come on over. We can eat heart-shaped pizzas together and laugh at stupid consumerism.

Warmth On A Cold Day

Remember when you were thirteen and your Mom was an idiot? Well, now I'm that Mom. And while I embrace my idiocy with open arms like paying for fast food with a baggy full of quarters or singing Disney songs at the top of my lungs in the house, car and perhaps it's even escaped my lips in a store or two; I still want to believe I'm a pretty cool Mom.

Now sure, being the Mother of a newly turned thirteen year old, definitely has its share of battle scars from wars fought over the normal (and sometimes not so normal) teenage struggles. But this morning as my daughter exited the car with fellow students swarming around her, she called out loudly, "I love you, Mom." The door slammed shut as she strolled off to the school building. And although it was crazy cold at 7:34a.m., I suddenly felt warm--and fuzzy.

Lost Again

Tonight was the premiere of Lost. Weirdly enough, I wasn't overly anticipating it throughout the day. But I was glad when it was time to start and the Lost Clubbers arrived. My excitement rose as the opening credits began but the episode didn't move my world, so to speak. It probably didn't help that I read rave reviews about it beforehand, so my hopes were high--a bit too high. Sigh.

A neighbor lady stopped by before it began needing to borrow something and asked if it was someone's birthday. I explained that we were watching the show Lost together. She exclaimed that she loved Lost (Who couldn't? Besides you, Kyle) so I invited her to stay. She didn't take me up on my offer. Of course, we might have scared her with our over-enthusiastic enthusiasm. But it just goes to show you never know who the Lost are around you. Wink. Okay, it's a lousy pun. But I'm compelled to make them with a name like that.

Library Contest

The Library is having a fiction contest and I'm having a fit deciding what story to turn in. I believe I have the perfect one and at the end of the day I edit it and think, "This! This is beautiful". Then I wipe a lonely tear from my eye and go to bed happy.

In the morning I wake up to re-read my amazing masterpiece only to find that through the night some elf broke into my computer to demolish it because now it's crap! So I start over again, or scratch that story altogether, and hunt through my neatly arranged files attempting to find the next available contestant.

I find it. This! This is the one. And once more, I go to sleep happy. But in the morning that nasty little elf has done it again and I'm completely mortified.

So I've decided to deliver my next piece to the library in the evening before it can be destroyed - that'll show the little elffing thing!

10 Ways to Avoid the Minister's Wife Stereotype

1. Wear your fluffy Sponge-Bob slippers to church.

2. Make sure your eye make-up matches Avril Lavigne.

3. When it's time for prayer at the Ladies Tea, stare fixedly at the ceiling as if you're worried it's growing asbestos.

4. Put a temporary tattoo in an obvious place, such as--your forehead.

5. Keep a Harry Potter book under your arm at all times.

6. When someone corners you for advice, wrinkle your forehead and say, "Huh?" with the most hick-like accent you can muster.

7. If the Kitchen Ladies ask you to help serve dinner, scratch your crotch ferociously then ask where you should start.

8. When parishioners call to get a phone number on what they presume to be the Pastor's Wife Hotline, give them the number to the local prison instead.

9. Leave your kids in the church office with the staff while you go to a matinee.

10. If the elders question why you weren't in church on Sunday, explain that you overslept because you were ministering to your husband on Saturday night then give a big wink.

Chomping

The other day LM (Little Mister) and I were snuggling together. I was chewing a piece of gum, which I am told I do very poorly, and he was watching me. He started mimicking me with very large chomps and loud smacks.

Me: Are you making fun of me?
LM: No. (continuing to chomp and smack)
Me: I think you're making fun of me.
LM: I'm not. (chomp, smack)
Me: (Raised eyebrows)
LM: Little boys ALWAYS love to chomp with their Mommies.
(Insert very precious little smile here)

I couldn't help but laugh. Charming, isn't he?

So Much

Wow, I'm not sure how to update this long-forgotten blog. I guess I'll try to give the cliff notes version.

Moved in with Mother-in-law because she was too ill to care for herself. Realized I couldn't homeschool and care for her, so we put our kids in school. Completely emotional. Basketcase on many days. We lived there for two months. Began to adjust. Then felt a bit cramped. Five people in two bedrooms. MIL regained some mobility. Not much privacy. This weekend we moved back into our house. Happy sigh. I check in on MIL every day after taking kids to school. The End.

Now we're actually talking about moving close to MIL so I am frantically trying to get rid of stuff and prepare our house for a possible sale. Even thinking of moving is pretty hard at this point because I just got back into my cozy home. But I feel like God is teaching me one, all-important lesson: YOU ARE NOT IN CONTROL!!!

Wish I could get it.

She Passed Me!

It's official. My eldest daughter, 12 1/2 years old, has now passed me in height. We discovered it on Sunday doing our usual ritual of "Am I taller than you?" measuring. She immediately shared it with everyone who would listen.

Sigh. I guess I might as well succomb to it. We're entering that stage now. You know, the one where I need to let go when I want to clutch tighter. Yeah, that one.

Update

She's back at the hospital.

Argh!

I'm going to vent a moment.

My mother-in-law has been to the hospital three times in the last four weeks. Two of them she had to stay for several days. Did they find out what was wrong? Well, they guessed at it. Today she was bad off, really bad. A nurse told me that we COULD have had her put in a Skills Unit after being dismissed from the hospital and she would have been able to stay there for up to six weeks-- paid in full. Round-the-clock care and therapy. But did anyone tell us this? No!

So, we call her doctor today to see if we can get her in it. No. She would have had to been admitted there from the hospital. REALLY?! Grrrrrrrr!

No worries. She's probably headed there again since no one will freaking help us!!!! I am so stomping mad right now that I want to cry. But that would not help squat. So I'm venting. I guess that doesn't really help either, but it feels good.

Life Ramblings

It's frustrating to me how I can let life zap me in the matter of a mili-second. I can feel so high and the next moment, not. Today is a "not" day. My Mother-in-Law is quite elderly and has had some major health problems lately. My husband and I have been passing each other coming and going to care for her. I miss him.

I'm such a roller coaster. I hate moods. Wish I could just push the happy button.

Last Friday night was a "high" for me because the new Harry Potter book came out. I read the whole thing in 24 hours. Loved it. (No spoilers here)

This morning I woke up around 5:30 a.m. with a wonderful dream about my Grandpa. He was making me laugh really hard; in fact, it woke me up. Then I felt that moment being sucked away as I remembered once again that he's gone. Tears poured and I couldn't make them stop. I haven't cried about that for months. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I got up and started writing.

Writing brings relief for me. Wish I could write like J.K. Rowling.

Critique of LOST Season 3 Finale

IT LIVED UP.

Those writers are amazing.

The "land of the LOST" club has been so much fun. Everyone screaming, laughing, or gasping at all the right moments. The commercials were great breaks for intriguing conversations. I don't think that any of our Lost club meetings ended before midnight. :) We just couldn't get enough of visiting. I invite you back to the "land of the LOST" club in January 2008.

Thanks to each of you who came, sporadically or religiously. It was a blast!

Chances

This month I did something that I've contemplated doing for three years. I entered the Writer's Digest competition. I won't know the results until October. Long wait. I entered in the Personal Essay category and the Poetry category. After I sent them in, I felt nauseous. I guess that's normal. I probably wouldn't have found the courage to send off this year except that another friend was entering too. It held me accountable.

Now, only 36 more articles/stories to send off before my birthday deadline! :) Not sure I'm going to make that one.

Compartments

When I was young, I used to separate my food. I didn't want the peas to touch the mashed potatoes. I ate one little section at a time until I was finished with my meal. Nowadays, I could care less if it's all mushed up together, but I wonder if I started a pattern back then. It seems that in my life, I section off who I am and work with parts of myself one at a time.

For example, it seems that if I'm doing good in the Wife department, then I may be doing bad in the Mom department. Or perhaps the Housekeeper me is keeping everything clean (which could only be a miracle) but Teacher me is struggling. I swear it seems that if one section is succeeding then inevitably another is failing. Why can't I get all those balls in the air and juggle them at once?

My 21 Days are up on my screenplay deadline. I just cut eight pages. Ouch. I'm finished, sort of. Not sure if I ever truly FINISH a writing. It doesn't matter how many times I read it, I always change something. But maybe that's the process. Kind of like life.

Perhaps all those compartmentalized moments are like scenes in my life play. I have to be willing to let myself have the ups and the downs to get through any Act of my life. Deep down I know what I must do. Congratulate myself for the balls in the air and forgive myself for the rest.

Revisions, Revisions, Revisions

She sits at the computer humped over her many words, 127 pages of words to be exact. She burrows her brow in concentration as she attempts to revise more of her screenplay.

OPTIMISTIC ME
I love this scene!

CRITIC ME
This is idiodic!

OPTIMISTIC ME
But we need this scene, otherwise they won't know...

CRITIC ME
Cut it! It's ------!

OPTIMISTIC ME
Well, that one part is a little slow. I'll cut half the scene.

CRITIC ME
Whatever. It's never going anywhere anyway.

OPTIMISTIC ME
It doesn't matter if it goes anywhere; the point is that I'm doing it. It's been fun. Don't be so mean!

CRITIC ME
You call revising fun?

OPTIMISTIC ME
Well, it is work. But it's nice to be on this end of it.

CRITIC ME
Could we get back to work here, my shoulder is aching.

OPTIMISTIC ME
As soon as I finish this post.

CRITIC ME
You're writing a post about this?

OPTIMISTIC ME
Well, yes. It's all I can think of.

CRITIC ME
Lame.

OPTIMISTIC ME
When you have an idea, let me know.

Critic Me is finally silent.

Page 100

I am on page one hundred in my first attempt at a screenplay. For those who don't know, usually a screenplay is around 120 pages. Every page equates one minute of screentime, so 120 pages=120 minutes. I'm almost to my finish line. I feel like I have been eating, drinking and breathing this story. I'm a little obsessive about my stories sometimes.

Being that this is only the "random" draft, since I'm attempting to write straight through without stopping, I still have a long way to go until I am completely finished. I look forward to my revision stage. I love being able to rework it.

Just wanted to keep you posted (since it also holds me accountable).

What Goes Up...

Deep black where

No light glows.

I feel lost

As one unaided.

My dark friend,

You greet me.

Wish I could

Let you go.

Despise you, failure.

Weary of struggle.

Faced with illusions,

Why want reality?

Long to veil

My relentless anguish.

Cannot mask it,

But I try.

Rejection Slip

You might think, by my title, that this is a bad thing. But ironically, my first rejection slip has excited and inspired me. For whatever reason, I feel more like a writer because of it. My first thought was -- NEXT! I pulled out my card to see what my second magazine choice was for this article. I am going to send it off again. AND, I'm going to continue to write.

I am working on a screenplay at the moment. I know, I skip around so much. But, I've wanted to try my hand at this for awhile and I try to write where I'm interested. I figure, why fight it? The experience has been exhillarating, frustrating, exhausting, invigorating and most of all it has pushed me past myself. I made a commitment to write it in 21 days and I'm not stopping myself even if I hate parts of it. There will be time to go back and re-do.

Oddly enough, my weight is slowly going down. I say slowly because it's only 1/2 a pound to 1 pound a week. But I'm just happy that it's going in the down direction. I saw a number this week that I've not seen for five years. I almost cried.

Okay, I'll end my Pollyanna post. But I thought that while I was up, I might as well share my happiness. There will be plenty of dark days ahead, I'm sure. Ask me how it's going ten days into this screenplay. ;)

The Word

"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God." John 1:1

That verse has always puzzled me and quite honestly, I never found much from it to extract. But this weekend I was reading a book that made this part of the Bible really stand out to me. The author talked in depth about God being the Word. In light of how much I love words, I can't believe that it never hit me like it did in that moment. He is creator, author, WORD. I absolutely love that. AND I especially love how everything He created began with a WORD.

He gets me.

I never understood how much.

(I know this sounds totally self-absorbed because many people write and love words, but I can't help it, it feels personal to me in a way it never has before.)