The Country Mouse Citified

I grew up in a small town. So small, that until a couple years ago, you couldn’t call my grandma and tell her something private because one of the neighbors on the party line was always listening. I was the stereotypical “I can’t wait to get out of this town” person. I left for college and never looked back. I return for the occasional family visit, but mostly, I’m content to remain near the city, where Dairy Queen, Starbucks and Safeway are all a short walk away.

Today, as I headed down the freeway, enjoying the feeling of breezing past the other cars, I saw an old pickup truck with some unusual features. “How quaint,” I thought, admiring how cute they’d done up their truck. Perfectly country, and definitely something out of Hicksville. As I continued to exclaim over how adorable this out of place pickup was, I realized something.

We had that kind of truck growing up.

I probably won’t admit this story to my family, since they all think I’ve grown way too big for my britches and turned into some kind of city snob. And maybe I have. But it’s interesting to know that as much as you’ve taken the mouse out of the country and firmly implanted her in the city, there are some country things you just can’t take away.

Thursday Thirteen #47: Where did the week go?

Thirteen Things about where the week went I have to say, I hate long weekends. I have a hard enough time keeping track of days as it is, so when folks mess it up by throwing a holiday in there, I get really confused. Which leaves me wondering... where did the week go? 1. I flounder without a "normal" schedule. The little one had her last day of preschool last week, so I'm having a hard time focusing without that schedule to remind me of what day it is. 2. Having hubby home on Monday made me think it was Sunday so I've been a day behind all week. 3. For some reason, I keep thinking we have one more week in May... 4. I remembered a birthday party just before we had to be there, so the little one didn't miss it! 5. I managed to double book us for a picnic and a girl scout event. 6. I did make it to Sharen's last day at WFTJ, but because I thought we had another week, I forgot her gift. 7. The school isn't serving hot lunch tomorrow, so I REALLY have to remember it IS Friday, the last day of school, and I have to pack her a lunch. 8. I did get all of our bills paid. I think. Now I have to remember to mail them... 9. I also got some books ordered that I've been meaning to order for a while. 10. I am working on a plan for the summer to keep us all on track (and on schedule!). 11. I did get in to work and finished another project I've been working on. 12. I went grocery shopping and stocked the kitchen. 13. And YES!! I did finish the newest Packrat set. :) So before you all comment and tell me to look up Flylady, let's just be clear here. Flylady is not my thing. I'll be fine once we figure out a new schedule. Until the next holiday or change hits. :)

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Progress reports, please!

So here we are at the end of the challenge.

My goal was 5,000 words and some revisiony stuff. I ended at 5,120 AND made the revisions that I know of AND sent them off for another pair of eyes. We will not discuss WHAT I wrote, because it was completely not what I was supposed to write, but really, what am I supposed to be writing right now? I'm REVISING. So I can SUBMIT.

What about all of you, my faithful friends? Did you make your goal? What did you do towards your goal?

Why I'm not looking forward to puberty.

A conversation in the car last night:

K: Mom, what color are my lips?
Me: (driving, trying to figure out what I still had to do with the remainder of the evening). Uh, red?
K: But I want them to be pink!
Me: Well, honey, I'm driving, so I can't see your lips. Lips are kind of a pinkish red, so maybe your lips are pink.
K: But you said they were red.
Me: (noting to self that I need a crystal ball to figure out what kiddo wants, and that I should have also actually looked at kiddo's lips before answering the question) When we get there, I'll look at your lips and tell you what color they are.
K: (tearfully wailing) My lips aren't pink!
Me: Honey, your lips are perfect. (Stopping at a light so I can turn and look) Yup, they're more pink than red. Your lips are beautiful.
K: But I want pink lips! (still sobbing)

We drive to our destination, and she spends the ENTIRE TIME crying because she wants pink lips. We head back home, and she's still sobbing and obsessing about needing pink lips.

Me: (Exasperated) Honey, I really think I was wrong in saying your lips are red. I think they're really pink.
K: (sniffing) You think so?
Me: Yes. (Because really, what color ARE lips? Pink? Red? Aren't they just the same shade with a little white thrown in? I'm a writer, not an artist)
K: (FINALLY ceasing the tears, but with a wavering voice) I'll go home and check to see if my lips are pink. I've just GOT to have pink lips.

She has since decided that her lips are definitely red. And she's extremely depressed that her lips are not pink. If you mention her lips, she starts crying.

Isn't this hormonal girly stuff supposed to happen when she's 14, not 4? If this is a taste of things to come, we are really in trouble. I joke about sending them to boarding school for the teen years, but seriously... how am I going to survive this?

Thursday Thirteen #46: Mid Challenge Checkup

Thirteen Things about Where I'm at in the challenge 1. I finished the Dark Roast set in Packrat. (HEY! That's important) 2. I've spent a great deal of time staring at the crack in my family room ceiling wondering how and why it got there, and whether or not anything will come crashing down on me as I write. (That's a legitimate fear... if the ceiling crashes down on my laptop, I'll lose everything.) 3. I'm at about 25% of my writing goal for the week with 3 days to go. And still confident I will make it. 4. I folded five or six loads of laundry. 5. I have all the current Packrat cards vaulted. (Talented, that's me.) 6. I am caught up on almost all of my online work, except for the coding stuff I can't figure out. (oh brother-poo... call me!) 7. I spent a day in Boulder researching setting. 8. I stopped by a lovely ice cream fountain in Golden, which will appear in one of my books. See, eating ice cream IS research! 9. I think I changed some of the backstory for my hero. Maybe. Dare I? How many times can I change it before I'm satisfied? 10. I emailed a few folks about the edits I need to do. 11. I even built a couple of Packrat sets for some friends. (And see, I'm generous, too.) 12. I've done everything on the to-do list except pay bills. Ugh. I'd much rather write than know how poor I really am. 13. Even though the words are not yet on the page (because really, how boring would that be?), I've done a lot more plotting and figuring of things I hadn't quite figured on stuff that needed to be figured. As soon as I get the edits on Book #1 done, I'll be able to breeze through a few changes I need to make to #2, and then I can finish writing #3. Is it sad that I'm excited about #3 even though I haven't sold #1 yet? Sheesh. I need to get a life. Or play more Packrat. ;)

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So the point of a challenge is...

TO DO IT!!!

Here's the funny thing. I've chatted with a few folks who said they read my blog. A couple said, oh yeah, I want to do that challenge thing.

So do it already! Post your goal. What are you going to accomplish between now and Sunday night?

Me, I'm going to send those lovely chapters to a fresh set of eyes to do some tweaking. While I wait, I'm going to write 5,000 words on book 3.

That's my goal. Meeting it will be something of a miracle given that hubby so graciously filled my Panera time with some repair dude, I have a research field trip planned with my friend Karen, kiddo has a school program, I still have my normal work to do, I'm supposed to pay bills, my house is a DISASTER, and hubby will be working insane hours. And for some reason, my family is still under the impression it's my job to feed them. I know, rough life.

Believe it or not, my list of things to do is not a complaint. Maybe just a small whine because I have a really bad headache. My point is this: we all have challenges. Some of you have bigger lists than I do. That's fine. Maybe it'll be all you can do to fire up the old computer and tap out a few lines. Then do that. Make yourself do something. Push yourself a little more to do more than you thought you could.

That's the only way to meet your goals.

Post them, and then go DO it!

Writing Challenge!!

It's that time!!!

A couple of weeks ago, I promised a writing challenge. And here it is: This week, we are WRITING. No excuses. I want goals, my friends, GOALS. What are you going to accomplish this week with your writing?

A few of you *nudge nudge* were at a conference this weekend and had some incredible requests. Some of us *kicking myself* were told be an agent that she had some revising to do. And the rest of you just need to get cracking!!

So here it is:
Post your goal in the comments section (unless you already did so in the previous post).
Sunday night, post what you did.

I will then do my math magic (be afraid) and figure out who met their goal by the highest percentage. That person wins either 1000 crackrat credits OR a $10 giftcard to the bookstore or java joint of their choice.

EVERYONE who meets their goals will be listed on the winner's list AND, if you meet your goals every month through August, you'll be eligible for a special grand prize. For Colorado folks, that spells par-tay at Dreamy's house. For ACFW folks, that means par-tay at ACFW. For everyone else, I'll do something creative.

Are you still reading? You shouldn't be. You should be posting a goal, then getting your behind in the chair and writing away. :)

How long do we avoid?

Yes, I've been playing Packrat again. Still. And I have everything vaulted that's available to be vaulted and I'm not so patiently waiting for the rest.

But that's not what I'm blogging about.

This morning, I was forced to face the reality that I am still not exercising enough.

Have you ever taken a sausage out of its casing, then tried to stuff it back in? Well, that's what I felt like today, putting on my capris for the first time this season. And I thought, they fit last year, they're GONNA fit this year.

Now, I have a lower tolerance for tight clothing, so I do tend to wear things baggy. But let me tell you... wearing those pants nearly killed me. I don't know how the people I see walking around in their tight pants do it, because I honestly thought I was going to die. I couldn't breathe. My parts were smooshed into parts they shouldn't have been smooshed into, and everything was rearranged to fit into places I'm not sure God meant for them to be.

Fashion is just not my thing.

I realize now that I'm faced with a choice. Spend the rest of the summer wearing sweats and old soccer shorts or finally break down and get back in shape. Considering I did agree to climb a 14,000 foot mountain this summer, I'm guessing it's going to be the one I'm avoiding. Wait. I'm avoiding both things, because I also hate wearing sweats. But you see where I'm going with this, right?

Some of you dear people who know and love me are saying, but Danica, you look great. You're fine just as you are. While I agree with you in theory, you did not have to wear those pants today. And no, they didn't shrink in the wash. Unless it happened to my entire summer wardrobe.

I have to ask myself, though, why does it take a crisis, like realizing none of your summer pants fit, to finally accept that you need to be doing what you already knew you should be doing, but kept putting off? The truth is, I hate exercise. I stink at pretty much every sport. Have you seen the TV shows that have the stereotypical kid that's always the last to be picked? They patterned the kid off of me. How I married a former pro soccer player, I have no idea. Further proof that God has a sense of humor.

Do you see all the excuses I continue to make? I could go on about the lack of time, lack of energy, blah blah blah. But in the end, it brings me no closer to climbing that mountain or fitting into my pants. So this week, I'm going to go out, walk around the block, catch up on my yoga show, and take that tiny step out of avoidance and into victory?

Anyone want to join me?

Who I am.

Every so often, I come to realize that I'm repeating the same patterns that I think are bad, but I'm not sure how I get into them or why I'm doing it, or how on earth I ended up here. Maybe I'm the only one who does this, so maybe this won't make sense, but here goes. Have you ever finished a project, time period, etc. and said, "next time, I'll do it differently. I'll do it better," only to find out at the end of that next time, you've ended up in the exact place you thought you'd do differently?

And that, my friends, is where I am today.

So frankly, I'm depressed. I managed to hold myself together, attend a group I belong to, go in to work to take care of one client, do some shopping, and head home. I fully intended to do the thing I always do when I'm depressed, didn't get enough sleep, and don't have the energy to focus on anything but how much it stinks to be where I'm at right now. But then, I opened my email, and found one from a friend that had me laughing so hard, I was crying.

I realized something very important from this silly little email. And trust me, it was silly. But that's why I love this person. My friend believes in me. But more important than that, this person "gets" me enough to send me silly messages to convey that message in a way I understand far better than people's platitudes about how great I am. (And frankly, when I'm in this particular mood, such platitudes make me mad because I think I'm being lied to, as irrational as that sounds.)

Much of my depression today was about this whole question of where I belong. I've always been "the weird one." To be honest, I've never known where I fit in this whole scheme of life. As I've gone deeper into the writing journey, God's made it really clear that being a writer... that's where I "fit."

Over the past couple of months, I've been asked to give up some things to help fulfill this whole "purpose as a writer thing." Still not able to share it all publicly, so again, bear with me. It's hard to give up things that have been a part of your life for so long. It's hard to say no to things that actually make me feel like a normal human being. It's hard to give up on things I think will finally define me as just a regular gal. Those are the things I've wanted my whole life, and even though in some ways, I find a lot of satisfaction in them, they make me miserable.

I am not normal.

For me, normal is abnormal to the rest of the world. And even though I can recite the Bible verses about not being of this world until I'm blue in the face, I still struggle with my frustrations of not being normal. I wonder why I can't walk into a room and be like everyone else. So I struggle, trying to be the person God made me, and yet trying to walk this tightrope of trying to fit into a world where I don't belong.

It's exhausting.

And I think that's why God has asked me to walk away from some of those things. He knows it's not good for me. He didn't make me to be some kind of mime walking the streets in an imitation of life. If that's what He'd wanted, that's what He'd have made. Instead, He made ME.

I am wacky. I am crazy. I am silly. I am creative. I am an artist. I paint beautiful pictures with my words. I do not understand the way the "normal" world works, even though I fake it real well. And sometimes, like today, when I am forced to face all the things I'm doing wrong because they have absolutely nothing to do with my writing, it all comes crashing down and I want to hide in my hole for a few weeks.

But see, today... today I did things differently. I did not go take a nap. I cleaned my house. I let the kiddos drag the neighborhood kiddos over to play. I made a nice dinner. I let That Man take me shopping for a new camera, even though I really wanted to go to the mothership, BN. I finished my work. I ate a bowl of ice cream. And then...

I wrote.

Because see, God made me for some important things. I don't know what they are. It could be writing the Great American Novel that finally made everyone open their eyes to the truth. Or it could be raising the glittery princess who finally manages to blow up the world. Or it could be raising the cowgirl whose love of animals mimics the love of Christ. I don't know. But I've got to do my best to remember the path God put me on. And to follow it wherever it leads.

I find comfort knowing that these struggles are not in vain. I know that some of the folks reading my blog deal with the same issues. You guys are such an encouragement to me because I am reminded that I do fit. I belong right where God put me. Which is where each of you belong. If you're the creative artist type, it's okay. Be weird. Encourage your wacky friends. Send them emails about having your photos taken at a wild screaming match at Sean Penn's wild Arbor Day party. Rip your heart out and expose it to the world, offering it up as a sacrifice to the Lord. Do whatever silly (or normal... if that's your gig) thing you're supposed to do because God made you that way.

Finally, because I couldn't find a good place to slip it in unnoticed (but maybe it's supposed to stand out), I encourage any artist types who are struggling with their artist identity to read my friend Heather's blog. She's got some incredible posts that encourage and inspire me in my journey.

Maybe this time, as I try to figure out how to do things differently, I'll remember that the best answer may be to just not do it at all and to trust God.

Thursday Thirteen #45: High Fructose Corn Syrup

Thirteen Things about High Fructose Corn Syrup Ever since I watched a program on the Discovery Channel or someplace similar about High Fructose Corn Syrup, I've become uber paranoid about the stuff. It's SO bad for you. As I've tried helping my family eat healthier, I've realized that this stuff is just as bad as, if not worse (and I vote for worse) than the whole trans-fat deal. When will we learn to stop messing with our food? Oh. Right. Not supposed to rant. Must. List. 1. HFCS is made using fungus, fermentation, and chemicals in conjunction with corn. Doesn't that just sound yummy? 2. HFCS has been shown to speed up disease and disrupt the body's natural processes in lab tests with rats. 3. I have a hard time finding pickles made without HFCS... oddly enough, when I used to can with my grandma, we never put HFCS in them. 4. The manufacture of HFCS increases pollution and uses more energy than natural sweeteners. 5. HFCS is entirely man-made. There is nothing natural about it. 6. I was eating KFC tonight (yes, I know, bad health choice) and on the label for the HONEY, the primary ingredient was HFCS. What's wrong with regular honey? 7. Preliminary evidence links HFCS to cancer. 8. HFCS affects hormonal production. 9. Dr. Pepper made with sugar tastes better than Dr. Pepper made with HFCS, but is only available from certain distributors (mostly in Texas). 10. HFCS is cheaper than sugar. (But is it worth it?) 11. This is not an all-inclusive list, but here's a link to a list of foods with HFCS. 12. Have you seen the Juicy Juice commercial where they show the parents giving their kids a glop of HFCS? That glop is in a lot of what we eat and drink. 13. Many natural food markets will not carry products with HFCS, but some do have it, so it's important to read the labels. A list wasn't as satisfying as a vent, so I think I'll vent about it again one of these days.

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The name game

I know, you all will have a heart attack and die. Two posts in one night. It's because Packrat hasn't released anything new lately and I've completed all the sets I can. So, my choices of activity are: watch the Jericho DVDs hubby got me for M-Day (blech... I'd have to go to the other TV), clean up from party (you'd think they'd have done that for me, it being M-Day and all), write (I am WAITING to hear back on my revisions, so there), or mess around on the computer.

ANYWAY... Jaen's response to my last post had me posting this as a really long response, and then I decided just to do it as a blog.

I called my daughter Kiki in my last post. Let's be clear here. I'm the only one allowed to call her Kiki, and she barely tolerates that. The people at church call her Kiki, but I'm semi-convinced they think Kiki is actually her name. Which is kinda funny, because she won't answer to it. So they all sit there, saying, "hey, Kiki," and she ignores them. Sorry. I probably shouldn't find that funny, but I do. I should probably talk to her about manners, but I'm always too busy laughing. Did I mention she's a Diva? And don't you think Kiki is a Diva name? Oh, to go back and change her birth certificate... (Kidding, honey, I promise)

The funny thing about Kiki and her friends is that they all have weird names. Veronica is also known as Lolly, and she calls Kiki "Caleb" which is also not her name. She calls Liam "Leo". Then there's The Dog, named Grant, but we call him LiLi. When That Man and I got together, I thought his family was huge. Well, it is, but it's not as big as I thought. Because THEY all have nicknames and so when you hear them talk about all these people, you think they're different people, but they're not.

Which is actually pretty funny that Jaen posted something that made me think of nicknames. In case you're wondering, she posted as JANET. I don't know her as Janet. I know her as Jaen (and how do you say that, anyway?). Which is why I generally go around listing myself as Danica/Dream. No, I'm not schizophrenic. At least I don't think I am. Am I? But different people know me as different names, and I can never remember which name which people know me by.

As I read the previous paragraph, I'm cracking up even more, because some of you are scratching your heads wondering where I got a comment from Janet. It's because I have FOUR blogs. I started one, a long time ago, didn't like the interface, but have no clue how to transfer the posts, so I started double posting. And then, I got a MySpace, and it had a blog and folks wanted to read my blog but they were too lazy to click a link and I'm sooo accommodating, so I just copied my blog on MySpace. And THEN, I found out that some of my good friends who also like to read my blog are on Xanga, so of course, I copy and paste there.

Are you dizzy yet?

Even though I should probably feel guilty that I'm confusing my poor sweet terrorist child by calling her Kiki instead of her real name (which I DO use on occasion, and not just when she's in trouble), she's going to have to get used to it, I fear. Life will give her all sorts of nicknames. At least the one I gave her is cute and loving, right? And if it does scar her for life, well, I suppose there's always therapy. Or she could write a book. ;)

Knock-knock Mania

I survived yesterday's trauma of four-year-olds running around my house. Why, oh why, did it have to be cold and windy? One of the lovely activities the children forced me to endure was knock-knock jokes. At this age, one of the important developmental stages is learning to grasp humor. Which, trust me, they do not grasp.

So here are some of the winners...

Kiki: Knock-knock.
Liam: Who's there?
Kiki: Banana.
Liam: Banana Who?
Kiki: Banana I'm going to marry Liam when I grow up.

Followed with her best friend Veronica...

V: Knock-knock
K: Who's there?
V: Banana.
K: Banana who?
V: Banana I'm going to marry Liam too.

Which led to a screech from Liam, who said, "But I'm going to marry Kiki!" Granted, Liam and Kiki have been friends for a couple of years now, and in that time, both have been very firm in their resolve that they will be marrying each other when they grow up. But still... my daughter is FOUR and she's already fighting with her best friend over boys.

Once we clarified that they were too young to decide who was marrying who, we were able to get to such ditties as:

Knock-knock
Who's There?
Carrots
Carrots who?
Carrots on my forehead.

I think we endured about thirty minutes of this... each punchline followed by hysterical laughter. I was so grateful that my best friend was there for the torture. Said friend is mother of Veronica... she and I had some good laughs.

It's really been wonderful sharing this time with her. When she told me she was pregnant with V, I was a bit sad because I'd been trying for so long and it hadn't happened yet. And then it did, just a couple months later. We made so many plans... watched our bellies grow together, told our babies in our bellies that they would be best friends. When the girls turned one, we were sad that they didn't seem to want to play together. Now that they're older, it's such a joy to watch how much they love each other.

So there we were, watching them already fighting over a boy... not a developmental milestone we thought would happen now, but it's still really great to have a mom friend to walk, talk, laugh, and cry through each stage. Even when the stage consists of:

K: Knock knock
V: Who's there?
K: Sandwich.
V: Sandwich who?
K: Sandwich is gonna eat you all up!

Gotta save 'em while I can...

A sweet little ditty...

As we know from my pre-Mother's Day blog, the small one turns four on Monday. Someone else near and dear to our hearts will be turning fifty the day before. Yes, my friends, some of whom may have already entered, Chip MacGregor is holding his annual really bad poetry contest. Last year, I did not win with my epic ode, which is good, since it means I'm not bad. This year, I'm playing it short and sweet.

Oh the pressure!!
I sit on my couch trying to think of something witty
A perfect little ditty
To celebrate the half century of the life of a man named Chip.
But all I can think about is dip.

Lays, anyone?

Yep, there it is... the brilliance that is Danica. And a lesson to you all in why thinking that it's so much easier to have the kiddos over to your house is a really bad idea formulated in the fumes from household cleaning supplies.

Thursday Thirteen #44: Celebrating my Kiki

Thirteen Things about My Kiki Well, even though everyone wants me to do a Mother's Day blog, I'm doing one on my little Kiki. Which sort of qualifies as a Mother's Day blog, since she is my daughter. Anyway, she's my baby, and she turns four on Monday. I'm a bit sad about that, so I've been planning this blog for a while. 1. Her real name is not Kiki, but we've called her that for years. However, she's recently informed me that she is NOT a Kiki and I need to stop calling her that. She has a 15 minute explanation as to WHY she's not a Kiki, but I still can't help myself. 2. She has a strong fear of wolf-is and coy-whoa-tees. She thinks wolves and coyotes are going to attack us when we drive through the mountains, even though we've explained she's safe in the car. 3. Until recently, I loved asking her, "Whose baby are you," because she'd answer, "OARS!" But now, she tells me off for calling her a baby. 4. I've blogged a few times about having her daddy's beautiful blue eyes, but it bears mentioning again. I love those eyes! 5. She's a daredevil with no fear. She taught her big sister how to climb the monkey bars at the park. 6. She's very good at reminding me the things I "got-for"... aka forgot. 7. Being pretty is at the top of her list of things to do. We can't leave the house unless she thinks she's pretty. (And no, this does not conform to the world's standards of pretty, even though people regularly stop her and tell her how pretty she is) 8. We also call her Imelda, as in Imelda Marcos. They share a passion for shoes. 9. On personality profile tests, we score exactly the opposite on everything. 10. I once asked God why He gave me this little Kiki. Then she came running through the room, sprinkling glitter everywhere. And that's why He brought Kiki into our lives... without her, we'd have no glitter. 11. Her favorite color is pink and has made it her personal mission to convince everyone else to adopt pink as their favorite color. 12. Other nicknames for her include: The Terrorist and Birth Control. I think any person considering having children should spend some time with her before making such a rash decision. 13. Of all the jobs I do, raising her is the toughest. But I have to say, it also brings me the most joy.

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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others' comments. It’s easy, and fun! Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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Writing Challenge!!

Okay, fine... I admit it. I'm addicted to Crackrat. Oh wait, you already know that. And, sad to say, I have about half of my crit group addicted as well. There might be a problem with that. Sooo... for all you Crackraddicts as well as writers needing a kick in the tail, I'm offering a writing challenge.

Here it is... You have until May 19th to post your writing goal. Then, we're going to work our tails off for the next week. Whoever meets their goal by the highest percentage wins a prize. For the Crackraddicts, that'll be 1000 credits of my hard earned cash. For the rest of you, that'll be a $10 gift certificate... pick your pleasure- Starbucks, BN, etc.

Now... to sweeten the pot... I'm going to run this challenge once a month all summer. Those people who meet their writing goals EVERY month during the challenge will be eligible for a special GRAND PRIZE. I can't yet announce what it is because I haven't exactly cleared it with hubby, but if he says yes, it's going to be totally fun.

Distractions happen, especially during the summer when the kiddos are home, the weather is nice, vacations are happening, etc. So this is a little incentive to keep going. So start thinking about your goals and what it'll take to achieve them. :)