Choosing what to believe

Okay, so this is yet another freaky moment where God positions Himself and everything else perfectly in my life at once.

The good thing that came out of the disappointment I faced this week is that it made me take a long look at the things that are important to me. I've been living my life for a long time trying to please people who made it clear this week that I will never be able to please them. I have wasted years of my life running in circles trying to do the impossible. Pretty stupid, eh?

The one decision that I've been coming to, and really it started before this, is that there are some changes I have to make in my life.

One of the big ones was that I needed to exercise more. I've known it for a long time, but I finally committed to just doing it already. I am so dang sore, it's not even funny. Honestly, I hurt to the point where I have hurt in the past and quit. I AM NOT QUITTING.

Then there was my lovely Joyce Meyer Godsmack that led me to forcing myself to get up early every morning and either pray or work on Bible study. Which I have been doing, although I could not get up early this morning, due to a super cool dream I had about God (remind me to tell it, it's cool).

And then I got an email from a crit group I belong to, but have been woefully behind in my participation. Anyway, one of the gals said something to another gal(and I didn't get her permission to quote, so I'm paraphrasing) that really hit me. In all my writing angst, I keep beating myself up for not being good enough. The funny thing she pointed out-none of the bestsellers out there, when interviewed, say, "I sold my first book because I'm such a great writer." No, they all say it's their persistence. So all my "I suck, I suck, I suck" garbage? Meaningless.

Which led me to packing up The Mistress and heading to Starbucks for a good writing session. I FINALLY finished the new beginning, and am plunging headlong into edits. I've come to a couple realizations: One, I have so many "taboo words" that I need to get rid of. Oh, my precious crap. Two, I really love this story. I am also going to *gasp* NaNo again this year. Add me as a friend (DanicaDream) and kick me in the butt, because I need it. Of course, I have no idea which story I'll be writing. I'm kinda liking this one dude in my current book. Can I pull off two marriages in jeopardy in a row? Or do I kill off the wife and find him a real woman? This would totally be a Hosea story if I don't kill her off.

As I was on my way out of Starbucks, God tapped me on the shoulder. Believe it or not, He didn't smack me. I'm so impressed with myself. Maybe I'm learning. He told me that it was about time that I stopped believing the lies that controlled me and started believing the truth. The truth is, I have some amazing people in my life that I don't appreciate nearly enough. If you're reading this blog and not some random stranger or my friends at Homeland Security, you're one of them. I think back to some of the encouraging words shared with me, and how I blew them off. As Heather and I often joke, I give a lot of STFU "Thank yous". You know, "I'm being nice, but I really don't believe you and would prefer if you shut up." Which is pretty much my response to anything nice or any compliment people give me.

Why? Because I've been fed lies from day one. Those lies clash with the truths that others are trying to convey in my life. But because the lies are so ingrained in me, I've chosen to accept that which "proves" the lie, and I reject the truth. As I unlocked my car, God asked me if I was ready to let go of the lies. In a flash of an instant, I saw how all the lies I'd been fed have controlled me. How I've been held back, thinking I'm getting ahead by running through the hoops created by the lies so that I can achieve all the things that the lies tell me I have to do. And then I saw the truths that I've been rejecting, the kind words that I have shoved aside because of the lies.

God gave me a choice. So I made the choice to believe the truth.

I got in the car, and what was on the radio, but Nancy Leigh DeMoss on Family Life Today talking about Lies Women Believe . Consider me God-smacked. Usually, I like the program, but I am okay with turning it off when I get home. Tonight, I ran inside, threw The Mistress at That Man, asked him to plug in and boot up (battery was low), went potty, logged in and listened. I listened to the whole thing and ate it up.

The other cool thing is that I'd actually intended to stay in Starbucks, writing until either my battery died or I was kicked out. But I kept getting this feeling that I needed to go home. Um, yes, I did. So God could get my attention in the parking lot and then hit it home with the radio show.

I also know that this is not an easy, one-time choice. One thing about doing yoga is that at first, it seems hard because a lot of the positions feel unnatural. As you work to get your body in proper alignment, it hurts, because your body is so used to being unnatural that it fights it. It's only after you re-train your muscles to act in their normal, healthy functioning state that the harder poses are possible. Once you get it down, things like your posture automatically improve because healthy starts to become natural. Unhealthy thoughts and unhealthy belief have been such a part of me for so long that I am going to have to constantly force myself to choose, until choosing the truth is as natural for me as breathing. It's a long, hard process. But I also know that I am not alone, and because truth is on my side, with God's help, I can do this.

I wanted to share this because I know that some of you face some of the same struggles I do. I want you to know that those lies are not worthy of you. You are worth the truth. God is good, and He loves you. He wants you to take control of whatever lies you're believing and renounce them in favor of the truth. Maybe it's the "I'm not good enough" lie, which is the one I battle. Maybe it's the whole "societal body image" lie. Maybe it's the "God doesn't love me" lie. And maybe it's a whole other set of lies. Stop believing them. It won't happen all at once, but with consistent choice, we can all do it.

Fun with Pumpkins

I feel guilty for not posting something more substantive lately. I promise I'm not in the depths of despair. :) Hubby's just been out of town and I've been home alone with the world's crankiest two year old.

I decided that in the midst of all this yucky stuff, I'd do some good things for myself. :) So, Friday, after I took hubby to the hairport (which is what K calls it), I called my friend Diane and asked her if she wanted to go for a walk. I knew she'd be up for it, because she's fitness queen, and since we haven't chatted in a while, I thought it would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone. Not so much. For out of shape me to keep up with fitness queen, I couldn't talk and breathe at the same time. But I understand that a pace where you can't talk is ideal for the heart, so there ya go. Anyway, I'm also still keeping up on daily yoga thus far, and I'm proud to report, I did an entire show last night. Well, as close to it as I can get with two kids and a dog using me as their obstacle course. FYI, balancing poses do NOT work well when they're using you as their tunnel. :)

The other good thing I did for myself was spend some quality time with my girls. So we went to the pumpkin patch, played in the maze, visited the animals, and brought home some gigantic pumpkins. :) Then we went to the mall. Kayla learned a new word at John Atencio , "Sparkly". She threw a fit when we left, screaming for more sparklies. I am *SO* going to have a hard time marrying these girls off. I always go to John Atencio when I get a chance, because I have to visit my wedding ring. We couldn't afford the one I wanted when we got engaged, so That Man said he'd get me the one I wanted when we could afford it. I'm sorta attached to the ring we ended up with, though I wouldn't turn down "Decision" if he bought it for me. They don't have a direct link, but if you go to the bridal section on John's website, you can sorta see. They don't have the right stone in it, though.

Anyway... that's what I've been up to, besides trying to maintain my sanity. Gotta head off to the hairport now, but at least you're slightly updated so you know I'm not on a killing spree or anything. ;)

Keeping the Commandments

Well, you know what they say about pride going before a fall. Just this afternoon I was so proud of myself for all the progress I'd made. Well... I had a real suckarific evening.

The good news is that Sara was with me when I got the horrific phone call, so when I bawled my eyes out in the middle of Wild Oats, I at least wasn't alone. I've pretty much spent the past five hours crying. I don't want to go into details, since basically what happened was that a family member hurt me, and I really don't believe in trashing people, especially in a public forum. Honestly it's a struggle that's been going on for a really long time, and I don't know... I can't explain it without going into detail, so I won't.

What's my point, besides the fact that there's a number of commandments that it's taking every ounce of strength I have to not break. I mean really, what's wrong with a little homicide now and then? Great. Now this person is going to be murdered tonight, and I'll be at the top of the suspect list. So be it. Lock me up, and let's all pray I don't get a girlfriend named Spike.

But back to my point. The above was supposed to be funny, but not sure I accomplished that task. I am so depressed right now. I was telling Heather that I feel so empty right now. And she did the "oh so not helpful when I'm in depressed mode" thing and said, "Yes but that's more room for God to fill you." I have absolutely no problem with that, except that while I intellectually know that, my heart still hurts, and frankly, I don't feel God anywhere in me.

Yeah, I know, sucks to be me. I just need to get over myself and accept God already, except that I thought I did, so I don't know what my problem is. But then I remembered a conversation I had with Rae shortly before my conversation with Heather. She was talking about how she'd talked to this person about her lack of faith and that she needed to think about the Footprints poem. I started thinking about the footprints poem with the situation tonight. During the hardest times, the person only saw one set of footprints and was angry because he'd thought that was when God had abandoned him, except what it really was, was God carrying Him. I think about how angry and hurt I am, and honestly, I am mad at God. How could He let this happen to me? How could He have put me in this position, that most of it, I had absolutely no choice over?

I hear His answer, just as the person in the Footprints poem heard it... Because He loves me. The truth is, as much as I lament this horrible place I'm in, it could be worse. And truly, without God here in my life, having protected me from the worst of what could have been, I would not nearly be as happy as I am. I would not nearly have as many of the blessings. No I didn't have a choice, except one. I chose Him. Just as He chose me. And regardless of these things that threaten to destroy me, He is there. He has saved me from far more than the nightmare of what could have been instead.

So while the temptation to just say, "Screw it," and blow something, or someone, up is probably stronger than it's ever been, the strength to say, "I choose to love anyway," is also stronger than ever. Abraham was justified by his faith. He chose to believe God and it was credited to Him as righteousness. Tonight, I am choosing to believe God and to trust that He has this in hand. And I pray that tomorrow, He will give me the strength to do the same.

In keeping the commandments, there is a danger, of course. The rich young man had kept them all since he was a boy. But he still could not let go of the one thing holding him back from true intimacy with Christ. The greatest commandment, to love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind, is one I know I don't always keep as I should. My mind gets full of a lot of other things, like this hurt I'm dealing with. But the second-to love my neighbor as myself-that, too, is a struggle when it comes right down to it. This person who hurt me, I'm so filled with hurt that I can't see how to love. I have to ask myself, how would I want to be loved by this person so that I know how to respond.

Which leads me to the realization that as empty as I feel, I'm pretty full of a lot of junk.

Smooching Alec Wagner and other things I forgot to blog about yesterday

I'm telling you, snow messes up my brain. Nasty icky white stuff.

Fortunately,the benefit of living in Colorado (aka what most people don't know about this fabulous place) TEXANS: Do NOT read. You have your own state, so don't read this and think you can take over mine. :) Oh, right. The benefit. Almost all of the snow is gone today. Several inches yesterday, sunny and warm today. We'll be back in the 70's in no time. Thank you, Lord.

Smooching Alec Wagner.

OH MY GOSH!

No, *I* didn't kiss Alec. B did. We had a leadership meeting at Alec's mom's house, and it was a tight fit. Because K was terrorizing the other small children, I went to the car to get her stroller to strap her in. Remember: it was snowing, which means we couldn't just make the kids go outside. Anyway, I come back in the house and my friend Chelsea says, "Your daughter is snuggled up on the couch, smooching Alec Wagner."

Please kill me now.

I distinctly remember telling her that only married people do that-if you're not married and you do that, God gets very unhappy. Oh yes. We've had this discussion. She lectures the people on TV for doing it. She'll ask me, "Mom, are they married?" If I say no, she lets them have it. My girl is a fire and brimstone girl when she's not telling you about how much Jesus loves you, and I couldn't be prouder. Tee Hee.

So WHAT was she thinking, smooching Alec Wagner?

I suppose the good news is that he comes from a good Christian home, and appears to be reasonably well-behaved. When her father reads this and gets out his shotgun, I can live with having this kid for a son in law.

In other smooching news, Tori asked about my beloved Veronica Mars. I very nearly went a-hunting for Rob Thomas last night to kill him. Allow me to make myself perfectly clear: DO NOT BREAK LOGAN AND VERONICA UP. I like the maturity issues they're dealing with, but I swear, I about killed someone or something when it looked like Logan was cheating. Man, is that good characterization to have me believing it. Folks, watch this stuff. The character arcs RULE.

Speaking of ruling character arcs, I LOVE LOVE LOVE that we are finally seeing Veronica having to come to grips with her control freak suspicious nature issues. I was QUITE satisfied at the end of the episode, given that we've seen this in her throughout two seasons now. For those of you who just picked up the show now, at the start of season three, what is WRONG with you? Go out and get the DVDs and catch up, because this is some good stuff. If you're nice to me, you can come over and we can have a Veronica Mars-a-thon, and I'll be sure to point out all the character stuff I think pertinent.

HOWEVER, because you know I always have a however, not all that enthralled with Logan's character development. We saw the awesome growth of season one, season two where he backslid and now season three, he's just... bleh. I wish I had a drawing thingy so I could draw it out, but trust me when I say, this arc needs some work. Logan needs to grow beyond the point where I believe that he WOULD cheat on Veronica.

Finally, my own personal character arc. I sorta did yoga today. I caught my show at the beginning, but man, it is hard stuff. I had to do my own little mantra, "your body is the temple of God. You are glorifying Him by getting it in shape." I also didn't do about half of it, because some of them are really hard poses that I can't do yet. Which I want to shout out as encouragement to those of you who think you want to try yoga, but aren't that flexible yet. Go for it anyway. I still can't fully do all the poses in the shows (obviously) but I do what I can, and I believe I still get benefit from it. Remember: any exercise and movement is good exercise and movement (assuming you're being safe and not ignoring the doctor etc). I have REALLY tight hamstrings, which makes a lot of the poses hard for me, but I'm pleased to report that it's getting better, and I'm improving. The challenge isn't against anyone else, but to be the best you that you can be.

Oh wait. That wasn't yesterday. Oh well, as I often say, it's my blog and I can do what I want to...

Okay. I have to get cracking on work. I have ten more posts to read and comment on before B gets home and then I need to finish up chapter three to send for crit today. I love that our crit group has started doing this regular deadline thing. I'm getting much more accomplished.

First snow

Enough said.

I'm off to hiberate until we hit 70 again...

We were NOT supposed to get this much snow. The good news is I put the kids to work cleaning, and I am pleased to announce that their play area is CLEAN!!! Par-tay time. The bad news is it's supposed to snow more tomorrow. ICK.

The baby was hillarious, because she's fascinated with the snow. I took her on the porch to play with it, and of course, she got upset with it because it was cold and she wouldn't put shoes on it. Plus, my chicken dog is afraid of snow. To get out of the wet, he knocked her over and made her fall in the snow, hit her noggin, and she cried. So I made a snowball for her and gave it to her. Well, she LOVED it. She called it her snowman and carried it around the house all night. I finally convinced her to carry it in a bowl, but still... it went with her everywhere all night. It was like this big wet security blanket. Until it melted. Then she drank it. Don't worry, I taught her about yellow snow. :)

Random Ramblings on Appearance

Lots of random stuff today, so take your pick.

I suppose there is a theme, which is personal appearance.

I've got a few friends who are working on losing weight. I love that they're doing it, but I also hope that they all know that are beautiful just as they are. I think one of the most important things we as women (although this applies to men as well) need to realize is that God thinks we're beautiful just as we are. What I really loved about Ted Dekker's book, The Martyr's song, is that this girl, who in the view of everyone in her village, is ugly. But when the priest joins her in heaven, he realizes how beautiful she is. Nothing about her appearance changed, just how he viewed her. I wish we could look at each other like that.

I admit, I'm not all that fond of my appearance. But I know that God thinks I'm beautiful, and He made me special. I'm His masterpiece.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I'm working on losing weight. Not because I think I'm fat, although I am frustrated that none of my clothes fit anymore. I know that I need to lose a few pounds because of my family health history, and my doctor has said he'd like me to be at a certain weight. I'm not dieting, because according to my doctor, what I really need is more exercise.

Fat chance. I'm trying, I really am. I've been going for a walk at least once a week, but the only time I can do it without dealing with screaming kids is when That Man is home. Which ends up being about once a week. I also discovered a good yoga show (which is SUPER hard) that's actually on during naptime. Today's yoga session: interrupted by my potty training monster pooping in her bed. I did get enough in though, that my hamstrings are killing me now. Did I mention that downward facing dog is my least favorite pose, despite it seeming to be the favorite of everyone else in the universe?

But you know, every little bit helps. Just parking farther away and taking those extra steps is extra movement and just a little closer to getting that heart healthy.

What I think is unhealthy, though, is this ridiculous show I've watched a couple of times now-Dr. 90210. First off, I think the whole surgery thing is just gross. But I ended up catching it flipping through the channels, and what I do find interesting is how they inject so much of the personal stories. Which is why I've watched.

Anyway... going to the whole appearance thing. I can now honestly say that I will probably never have plastic surgery. Well, I never wanted to anyway, but really... seeing what they do to you... ICK! What really got me though, were these girls wanting implants and nose jobs. They were FINE as they were. Honestly, I'd kill to have what they started with. Well, not totally. That Man likes what I have. ;) But seriously. Here are these women who have absolutely nothing wrong with them and they're not satisfied with having bodies that a lot of other women would love to have.

I wonder why that is-why aren't we satisfied with the amazing beauty God created us to have? We want to be bigger, thinner, straigher-whatever. Am I the only one who thinks it's odd that people think it's cool to inject botulism into their skin?

I wanted to cry for the girls on that show-who felt they couldn't have self confidence with an extra layer of fat or gasp! a C cup. Especially because I thought they were beautiful as they were.

And yes I realize that I'm somewhat of a hypocrite, considering I tend to be down on myself about my looks. But I guess I can justify myself because I'm not trying to do something dramatic to change them. Maybe I don't have that same level of self consciousness because I've got a guy who thinks I'm a hot babe sleeping next to me at night. I'm not out walking the meat markets on the weekends, hoping that some guy will notice my assets. But if I may be so bold to suggest to all the single women out there-if those are the only assets the guy is looking at, I'm not so sure he's the guy for you.

Is it election time yet?

Can I give a little advice to would-be representatives of my family? STOP CALLING ME. And STOP SENDING ME YOUR JUNK MAIL. I'm NOT voting for you. I have a new way of deciding who gets my vote: the person who wastes the least amount of money trying to get me to vote for them. Seriously.

If a candidate is going to spend millions of dollars for an attack ad that uses misleading information, daily phone calls to my house, and to send me the same brochure daily, can I really trust this person with my vote? They're already proving their fiscal irresponsibility with campaign funds, why on earth would I trust them with my hard-earned dollars?

There's this one candidate, who I won't name because I REFUSE to give this person any more name recognition, who supposedly "cares about the environment". I get TWO full color pamphlets several times a week from this person in the mail. "Vote for me, I care about the environment." Really? And you're filling landfills with all this excess paper that I do not and will not read as part of that affection for our planet? Give me a break.

Actually, the one I really love is the lady who has stopped by my house twice now. "Hi, I'm your neighbor. I've lived in your neighborhood for over twenty years and I'd sure appreciate your vote." Really? And in the seven years we've lived in this house, you've stopped to talk to us how many times? Oh, just the ones where you were begging for my vote? I don't think so. She sends me a lot of mail too. I saw her ad on TV. I am still unimpressed. My suggestion: if you're going to come ring my doorbell during naptime, at least bring cookies or something. You won't get my vote, but I'll at least be polite when I slam my door in your face. And maybe, if you spend the next few years actually involved in my community and stop by for something other than trying to gladhand your way to my vote, I MIGHT consider voting for you next year.

I'm telling you, this politics stuff is insane. I'd really love to go back to the dark ages about now.

Kicked in the butt

Well, there I was, procrastinating on writing, and I flipped on the TV to pass the time, and wouldn't you know, Joyce Meyer was on. And she said, "Choice means doing the right thing even when you don't feel like it." Crap. She then spent thirty minutes spanking me over every single thing I've been whining about for the past few weeks. Double crap.

And so, I pulled open Word, and yes, I began to write. Kill me now, because I decided to write down what I had on the NaNo book. And then, because I truly am in need of a lobotomy, I asked Heather what she thought of the idea. Her response: "It's cool, but depending on how it's written, it may be a tough sell to CBA." I mentioned this is supposed to be an inspirational, right?

However, because Joyce Meyer kicked me in the butt (over this and several other lovely issues), I worked on it. I wrote four pages. Not that I am committing to NaNo, mind you, but I'll at least get the idea on paper.

And because Joyce Meyer kicked me in the butt, I'm going to bed now. The funny thing about being convicted about stuff... you actually have to do something about it. So I'm getting up early tomorrow and dealing with it. ICK. Being kicked in the butt is a pain.

To NaNo or Not to NaNo...

I have a couple more weeks to decide if I'm going to do the NaNoWriMo again this year. Last year, I did it and won the challenge. However, I'm undecided this year. I had a hard enough time getting there last year. This year, not only am I dealing with those horrible self doubt/fear demons, but my life has exploded. There's the insane two year old terrorizing my house, the class I'm teaching, the fact that I can't seem to get my act together, and all the "normal" stuff I've always done with my life. And frankly, I'm having such doubts about my writing right now that in the past few writing sessions I've attempted, I've written a sum total of one page.

I'm also frustrated because one of my CPs has said in one of our recent critique session that my writing is the best she's ever seen it. HOWEVER, her past few critiques have been much tougher on me than she's ever been. So I don't know what to make of it. Does that mean I totally sucked before and now I'm mediocre? Or am I actually a decent writer and she's giving me that push I need to get over the unpubbed hump?

Plus, and perhaps you will REALLY think I'm nuts now, I'm debating about entering the Golden Heart. Which means I have to get prepped and ready NOW, because it's due November 15. But I don't even know which book I'd enter, or which category. I was sort of thinking I'd put the inspy in and see what happens, but *GAG* that's a lot of money for no feedback.

And YES, I know I need to join ACFW, and I can assure that once my finances are back on track, I will do so. And really, that's my big Golden Heart dilemma. With money as tight as it is right now, is it really worth my money?

Are you all getting the picture that I seriously think I'm losing my mind? Which reminds me, the book I'd be writing for NaNo-it's a freaking TEEN book. Or at least that's how it plays out in my mind. Which means I am yet again, straddling genres. But hey, this one WOULD be an inspirational.

How much is that lobotomy in the window?

Making my brain explode

Well, today was the first day of Bible study. We're doing the Beth Moore study on The Patriarchs. Ummmm... can we say AWESOME? I am so ready to grab a spoon and dig in.

There are two people in this world who have so impacted my journey that if I ever had the chance to have a long conversation with them, I think my brain would completely explode. If my heart didn't explode first. Now the first one, you know, because I yak about him all the time. That person, of course, is Todd Agnew. And I think I should remind you all, just in case you didn't get my other not so subtle reminders, that his new album is OUT and you should buy it, if you haven't done so already.

The other-aka the topic of tonight's blog-is Beth Moore. We all know how she twisted my universe apart with the past two Bible studies of hers. So here we are on a new one. And of course, here we are, on the first day, and I now know God's new little project on my life.

Before I tell you, I think I should give some background. Last night, there was this freaky noise outside our house. Think space invaders, and remember that I've been reading a bunch of freaky apocalyptic crap, watching Jericho, and the last two memorable books I read are Ted Dekker's The Martyr's song (well, the whole series, actually) and Sue Grant's upcoming release (she writes funky outer space books). So I freaked, grabbed my dog, and woke up That Man. I made HIM listen to the noise, and then, when he couldn't figure out what it was, he went off in search of the source. After I made sure my children hadn't been abducted by aliens, I hid in the bedroom with the dog, praying. I wish I were kidding.

I started thinking about what Ted Dekker said in a talk I saw him give about light dispelling darkness. Now why that led me to hiding in the dark with my dog, I'm not sure. But then I started thinking about the Martyr books and Jericho. The one question I took from the Martyr books was what I was willing to do for God. A while back (I think I blogged about it), God and I had a little chat. And He asked me that question, sort of. Would you be willing to go to Hell for me? If believing in me meant that you weren't saved, would you still believe? (And no, I don't believe this is what happens to believers, but God was doing a little motivation check on me. Do I seek the reward or do I seek Him?) And you know what? The Dekker books freaked me out because I realized that in the struggles in each of those books, the characters did have their moments in hell.

I keep saying I want to live out authentic faith, I want to dive in fully. But as I look at being shoved out of my comfort zone, and not getting the earthly rewards I think I deserve, and being mad at God because I am stuck in this freaking valley, I've had to realize that maybe I'm not so willing to go to hell for God. I'm not even willing to give up my sucky comfort zone.

But going back to the weird noise. I honestly had thoughts of nuclear war, alien invasion, or gasp! the apocalypse. I was tempted to call That Man and beg him to come back before something awful happened to him. And I started to think, okay, this is not the right response. I remembered the strength of the people in the books and just started to pray. I kept saying over and over, "I fear no evil. If God is with me, nothing can harm me." And on one hand, I was kind of excited, like, am I going to meet HIM? But on the other hand, I was scared, because what if, after all the dust settled, I was still here-what then? What scary thing would I have to face?

Well, That Man came home, safe and sound, and we never did figure out what that noise was. But since we woke up, safe and sound, no signs of anything freaky happening in the universe, we can all breathe easy knowing that yes, I am a chicken little, but my husband loves me anyway. And then I went to the Bible study.

God decided to use Beth to kick me in the butt. Sort of how God likes to use Todd. Here's a direct quote from Beth's study: "Those God uses greatly seem to battle fear. Therefore, we may battle fear but we must not let it win." She then pointed out many places where God says, "do not fear." Yeah, it's okay, you can all say it. I'm going to have to do a Word study on fear. Beth talked a lot about the stronghold of fear, and well, I'm going to have to cop to this one.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I'm so freaking full of fear, it's not even funny. It's sick. Is there medication for that?

What am I so afraid of? Everything. Anything. Mostly, I'm scared that I'm going to go out there, give it my all, and it's still not going to be good enough. That somehow, I'm going to disappoint Him and everyone else who seem to think I'm going to do all these great things. And yes, I know that it's completely irrational. And as Beth pointed out, God isn't up there weighing my good against my bad. He's looking to count all the times I believe Him so He can credit it as righteousness. My bad stuff-He's forgiven that. I know this.

But you know, if you really want to dig deeper at this fear stronghold, and you know it has to go deeper, look at the scenario from last night. I was so freaked out over a stupid noise and what I'd have to do and oh my, what would I do if was something really bad, and wah freaking wah... the root of my fear is me. I'm not relying on Him. I'm not taking my strength from Him. No, as much as I say it's about Him, it is still all about me. I'm afraid of ME not being enough. I don't question Him.

But you know, He says I'm enough. So maybe I'm not believing Him enough.

Are you confusicated yet?

Lobotomy, anyone?

Eating Dinosaur

Happy birthday to my little angel!

And because I'm such a good mommy, I decided to celebrate by taking her to her favorite restaurant: Red Lobster. You'd think a six year old would want Chuck E Cheese or some lame kid's place. Nope. She's a regular little epicurean who demanded lobster for her birthday. It's going to take an act of God to get HER married off.

So there we were, enjoying a lovely meal, and I had to laugh, because my kids are total freaks when it comes to food. The baby-happily chowing on salad. And yes, I do mean the lettuce part, too. The birthday girl-passing up everything but the lobster. I was telling her teacher tonight, she has even lectured me for offering her "unhealthy" snacks. I'm telling you, my kids are weird.

I was happily eating my shrimp scampi when the two year old noticed. She demanded and ate the rest of it. So I moved on to my crab legs. Birthday girl is still chomping on lobster, which is good, because she can eat her weight in crab legs. And no, I'm not kidding. Unless I have lobster to occupy her, if we have crab, I end up not getting any because she and her sister eat it all. I pull off a leg, and the baby starts screaming, "dinosaur!"

Personally, I was thankful we'd chosen to eat early and avoid the dinner rush. That whole dining with maniacal toddler thing gets difficult otherwise. I'm trying to crack my crab and get the baby to just shut up so I can enjoy at least one bite of my dinner. That Man is happily eating his steak and shrimp. Teenage child is trying not to acknowledge she's with our loony bunch. Finally, the little terrorist grabs the crab leg out of my hand and starts playing with the claw, gleefully shouting, "Dinosaur!" I tried to explain it was crab, however, she wouldn't accept that it was anything other than dinosaur. The helpful waiter mentioned that crabs probably were around during the time of dinosaurs, so she was technically correct. Lovely.

And then the birthday girl finished her lobster and moved on to the crab. I made up a new rule: Once you turn six, you have to crack your own crab. Maybe then, I'd get a shot at it. Eventually, this led to having to contain the baby, who also wanted to crack her own crab. We don't need to go into the mess she made. But hey, at least it wasn't in my kitchen and I tip well enough to make up for the inconvenience.

My advice: if you teach your children to eat what you eat, don't take them out for seafood until well after puberty. Do the seafood thing on kid-free nights. Otherwise, you may very well find yourself eating dinosaur.

VERONICA!!!

I really don't need to say anything else, do I?

Yes, I watched it tonight.

No, I didn't see the first episode. But I still hold on to faith that I will eventually see it. Veronica rules! And I am sooooooo happy that she and Logan are still together.

Not much else to say-spent most of the day with a sick baby, who gained her second wind at about 8 pm and spent the rest of the evening trying to corral her. Okay, so really, I let her destroy my houe while I watched my beloved Veronica. But hey, we all have our priorities, right?

In other Veronica news, because tonight, it is all about Veronica, baby, That Man has finally redeemed himself. As you may all recall, Veronica season two came out on DVD for my birthday, and he did not get it for me. (Insert long, exaggerated, melodramatic sigh). But this morning, I woke to find the season two DVD set with a sweet little love note waiting for me.

Speaking of birthdays, one of my angels turns six tomorrow. Actually, if you want to get technical, she'll be six in 35 minutes. YIKES! Not to be like my mom or anything, but at this time six years ago, I was in "the position" getting ready to push. Fortunately, it was over soon enough and I was holding my precious girl.

Oh, and I'd better say "Happy Birthday" to Heather, which is technically over, but since I didn't send her a card or anything, I'd better at least give her a shout out on my blog.

Jericho

I had no intention of watching a new show this season. I have enough shows, TYVM. However, there was nothing on tonight and I needed the background noise while I did corrections on this new book. So, thanks to On Demand, I watched all three episodes of Jericho.

At first, it sorta freaked me out, that they hit all the major US cities (thus far), and here I am in one of the ones that got hit. Realistically, given my proximity to Norad/Cheyenne Mountain/Air Force Academy, and a number of other strategic areas, you know we're on the "hit list". Take out the Denver area, and you've pretty much shot down the US strategic defense system. Yay me.

When I was a kid, my friend and I were obsessed with the whole nuclear war thing. We even built a fallout shelter (that would not have saved us-we were nine). We knew all the signs to look for in case of nuclear war. And now, given that we have a bunch of raving psychopaths who hate the US running around with nukes, we have more to fear than ever.

But in that initial moment of fear, I realized something. I'm not afraid. Not really. God can take me any time He chooses. Whether it be by nuclear war, or some random drive by shooting, I'm going to be toast eventually. As much as I want to protect my kids, I can't protect them from everything. Only God can. And you know, as much as I am a total control freak, there's something very comforting in knowing that even if the psychos are able to get and use the nukes, God's still got his hand on me. And no matter what evil comes our way, God will use it for good.

I'll probably keep watching the show at my leisure. On Demand is so freaking awesome. However, I am incredibly irritated that my beloved Veronica is not on there. I STILL have not found it. I'm begging you all-please! I need my Veronica fix!!!

The horrors of raising girls

Because I haven't shared one of these lately, here's another installment of funny, but gross moments of my life. AKA birth control for the childless.

In our house, we have an open door bathroom policy. Mostly because I read somewhere that it helps to potty train by modelling good potty behavior. Well, in reality, I have children who don't believe in privacy. But hey, the previous reason sounded like I was trying to be a good parent, right? So a couple days ago, the little terrorist caught mommy in the process of changing a tampon. Several hours later, I found her trying to figure out how to stick a plastic animal in her own "part". I know it is natural curiosity, ie: "it's a hole, let's see what fits in it, especially since I saw mom doing it", but I semi freaked. We had a long talk about how it's a precious part of our body that God gave us and we don't ever put anything in it.

So tonight, I get home from class, go to do my business, and I realize that my little assistant has followed me to the bathroom. I call for That Man. He tells her to go to bed. She does the defiant thing. I beg him to get rid of her. He laughs and tells her to come see him. She continues the defiant thing. I whine and beg. She finally gets out and I finish up. I put her to bed, and I tell him, "I really needed you to help me out. I didn't want her watching me change my tampon."

His response? He laughs. "I know."

No, you don't know. So I tell him the animal story, which makes him laugh even more. I explain that I can NEVER let her know what I have to do every month, because then she'll think I'm a lying hypocrite after the talk I had with her and she'll never respect me again.

His response? He continues to laugh.

That Man is probably still laughing in his sleep. If our kids end up barefoot, pregnant, and smoking crack at age 9, I'm totally blaming him. And it was HIS idea that we have all girls, and HIS stupid girly sperm that impregnated me with them, so this is ALL on him. He has NO idea the trials of raising girls. The worst you deal with in raising boys is teaching them not to pee on the electric fence (although it's really funny when you convince your idiot friends to try it). But no. I have to figure out ways to potty train AND keep my children from putting a zoo in their potty holes.

I'm going to bed now. May tomorrow be a day filled with peace and no bathroom trauma.

Still no Veronica

Yes, I know, it's a sad, sad fate. Would it be shallow of me to pray for my beloved Veronica Mars?

Somewhat in a mood-tonight's my night with my beloved Sara, and not only did she not call, she didn't return mine. Ergh. I can almost guarantee that what this means is that she's in a funk. We both do this, which is why I think we've been able to stay close friends for so long. When we get in a funk, we disappear until we're better. I just wish we could figure something out so that we could do something for each other-other than understand where the person is at. But maybe that's just as valuable.

And even though I did miss my weekly tea outing, I will say that it was nice to have one day where I didn't have to be rushing somewhere. An evening to sit at home on my butt doing nothing. Well, okay, I did laundry. And worked on chapter two for critique, even though I am so frustrated with feeling like everything I do totally sucks. They've actually torn apart this chapter once, as it was my original chapter one that they hated, but hopefully I did a good enough job of making my hero more sympathetic in the new chapter one (which I did, but now they think my heroine isn't so nice-ARGH) that this rewrite will have them both in a better spot. Why can't I write easy books?

And then, because I truly am an idiot, I started writing a new book today. I thought about the nonfiction stuff I want to write but can't, and in the shower, realized how I could pull it off in fiction. Dear Lord, you are not funny, even though You are hysterically laughing at my new predicament. Did I mention that the pages are have so far are utter crap?

Finally, because I am still in the throes of depression over being Veronica-less, and because I have a million things to do and am completely overwhelmed, once I got my work done for the day, I procrastinated on everything important, like grocery shopping and housework, and read a little Ted Dekker. Reading the Martyr's Song series, since people keep hounding me that I need to read him. Since those aren't his scary books, I can handle it. Actually, if you think about it, they're freaking terrifying, but let's remember that I try to think as little as possible.

OH, but one more piece of most excellent news: My beloved SQUIRLY sold to Steeple Hill!!! I've been keeping that secret for oh, almost a week now, and it's been KILLING me. About a year ago, I judged one of her books in a contest, and I was heartbroken that it didn't final, because I loved it. And then, I did get to give her "the call" about winning another contest. But we have more history than that. She was my roomie a couple years ago in Reno, and we had a ball. We were pregnant with our last children together. And so I am more than extremely pleased to see this happen for her. Make sure you buy her book when it comes out, otherwise, I might have to come after you and hurt you.

The only thing keeping me from jumping off a cliff...

Is that my beloved Todd's new CD is out.

What? You don't have it?

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?

I was going to preorder it, but alas, I forgot. I was going to do the Mervyn's commercial "Open, open, open," at my local Mardel, but we overslept due to baby being up until 4 am. So I got there around 1. And can you believe that they didn't have it out yet and I had to inform the clerk that Todd has a new CD out TODAY? Some people! However, the lady was very nice, I got the CD, and am now blissfully listening to Todd (and friends) tell the Christmas story in a new, amazing way.

You seriously need to get it. My IM name, in case you're wondering, says that if you don't have the CD, I don't want to talk to you. I made Heather talk to the hand earlier today. ;) People, get on the bandwagon.

So since I am in bliss, you'd think today was the perfect day. HA! Of all the stupid, moronic things I've done, this one is the worst.

I forgot to tape the season premiere of Veronica Mars. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

I was going to stay home tonight and watch it. But no. Stupid guy at church went to freaking Europe and needed someone to take his turn in the nursery, and I, trying to be nice, said yes. And forgot to set my timer.

The worst part is, unlike last year, with UPN, the CW is NOT rerunning it Sunday nights. The mutant freaks. So, I am begging... someone, please, save me. If you were smart enough to tape it, or know of a time when it will be aired again, please share. I will love you forever.

Seriously. I have two loves in life: Veronica Mars and Todd Agnew's music. Simple, really. I'm a simple kind of girl. (And yes, I am not serious here. Geez, I can see my dad reading this, going, uh, who is this beloved Todd guy. Dad, it's okay. It's a joke. My husband thinks it's hillarious, and I'm fairly certain he first referred to Todd as "my beloved Todd.")

And not a drop to drink...

Cold status report-feeling like crap... still. And I can't sleep... again. So I thought, I should take some Nyquil. We only have the daytime kind. And then I thought, because I'm so fabulously brilliant, I'll have a nice little drinkie-poo. Again, wrong answer. That Man, evil creation that he is, drank it all. Okay, so I bought a four pack of wine coolers six months ago. But come ON! Doesn't he know I keep those for emergencies? Yeah, I know, four in six months isn't so bad.

But I need to sleep!!!

Great. Baby is crying again. It's gonna be a long long night.

What wisdom can I share tonight?

Absolutely none.

It's so weird, this peak/valley deal. I blogged my depressing thing late Friday night, and then last night, God and I had an amazing breakthrough. Sweet, right? Of course I'm still sick, so I'm not back to 100%, but I was feeling pretty good about some things. And then, WHAM! I am reminded of just how broken I truly am. How far I am from the goal.

The good thing about this quest of whatever it is, is that as I work through it, God is still there, and still faithful.

So, I got another "you're a big dummy" smack upside the head.

As much as I think I have things figured out, I realize just as quickly how little I know. Who am I to question God?

It's so crazy, tonight, we split up to pray for each other in small groups. And even though the three of us who prayed together are so vastly different, it amazed me to see how we have some struggles in common. Even more interesting, is that one of them shared a story about how she felt she was in Potiphar's household. That they were living in this terrible place that was against everything they believe in, but knew it was the place God needed them to be. As she spoke about her frustration over the situation, I remembered the end of the story, reminding her of the verse I've clung to for so many years: Genesis 50:20 "You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives."

Had it not been for Joseph's time in Potiphar's household, he would not have been in a position to save them from the famine. Had it not been for the injustices he'd lived through, he would have never been able to help his family.

As we talked, another verse came to mind-I had my daughter memorize Philippians 4:13-but it's the verses that come before that I had in my heart as we all talked.
"11I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. 12I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

The prayer I prayed was to learn how to be content in all circumstances. I don't know how to do that. But with God's help, I can learn. I don't know how long this place will last, or if I'll ever leave this valley for more than a few brief glimpses at the peak. Perhaps that is the sacrifice I must make. I read Acts and I wonder, why aren't we as Christians like that? Why aren't we followers of the Way, as opposed to members of the Jesus Christ social club? But how many of us are willing to live in the valley, as Paul and the other early disciples did?

Am I wise, or just stupid? I don't know. But as I poured out my heart today in yet another selfish rambling about how badly my life sucks, I realized that I don't have the right to be bitter. And I still have a whole lot of growing to do.

Beating around the bush

Today I did an unusual thing and signed into Yahoo. Heather nearly died of shock. She asked me why and I told her-I'm procrastinating on The Book.

It's been heavy in my heart to work on it lately. But, I keep finding other things to do. The funny thing is, I know specifically what God wants me to write about. And here I am, unable to sleep with a cold that is kicking me in the butt, so I cave. I say, "Okay, fine, I'm going to go there-to that deep, dark, icky place that I don't go." So far, in my writing, I've meandered all around it, and not quite gotten to the exact story I've told so many times in my head, but can't bring myself to actually put on paper.

Just as I am finally to the point where I have no choice but to write it, I realize, I've been slacking on my blog as of late. I know, more beating around the bush. But you know, there is a part of me, knowing that people do look here for encouragement, crazy stories, and whatnot, that feels bad that I haven't been delivering lately. I know, I put too much pressure on myself.

The truth is, I am so scared of these deeper emotions that my friend told me I needed to get to. They make people uncomfortable. They make me uncomfortable. It becomes easier to push it off when I have so much else going on in my life, so much stress. Tonight, I almost missed the class I'm taking because I'm so burnt out from teaching that I just couldn't bear to get off the couch. My instructor, who's a friend of mine, laughed when I told her. She could relate. She's also an introvert who can pass as an extrovert when need be. But, like all true introverts, there comes a point when we have enough and need to crawl into our little holes and hide from the universe for a while.

I have a feeling that's why, given that I've had no contact with sick people, that I feel this horrendous cold coming on. I'm not slowing down, so my body is forcing me to. Lovely. Can I tell my body to STFU already? Oh wait, I've done that, so now it's telling me to.

The good news about beating around the bush is that eventually, you get close enough to the bush that you do end up hitting it. Or at least that's my theory. My head is about to explode and God (I should call Him That God, LOL) isn't going to let me sleep until I do it. I talked to my friend Joni today, and she brought up a good point. That when I finally do take the leap and go directly for the bush, while I will be exposing the old wounds, it'll be a step toward healing.

So why is that just as scary a proposition?

Isn't it funny how we get comfortable hanging on to our brokenness? You don't know what you're going to do with yourself when there isn't that hurt to hang on to. Suddenly, it means standing on your own feet and using the pain of the past as a tool to help lift others out of the mire. Crap. That means actually accepting responsibility.

I wonder how much cold medicine it would take to override God?
(rhetorical question, I assure those of you who stumble in and don't know me all that well-I'm not stupid enough to OD on cold medicine, and frankly, when He starts talking, ain't no amount of cold medicine going to shut Him up.)

uhhhhhh

So I almost gave myself a concussion yesterday. I very nearly asked That Man to take me to the hospital or something. What was my problem? I walked into a door-literally. Well, okay, I slammed a door in my face. And actually, I didn't slam it. We have one of those spring loaded screen doors. I opened the door to go in for something. I thought I heard B's bus. I turned and looked, letting go of the door. The door slammed me in the face. The nose, to be exact. I still think it's broken, but That Man says it's fine. All I know is it hurts.

Over the weekend, I went to my cousin's wedding. It was fun, like old home week. My cousin married into a family that I absolutely adore. It's a HUGE family-I think there's six or seven kids, who each have 3 or 4 kids (which is my generation), and who now have kids of their own. One of the girls has a daughter born on K's birthday, so it was fun to compare the girls. I really loved seeing everyone. I felt a bit old, given that most of the "babies" whose diapers I'd changed were there with their kids. ACK! Actually, I babysat both the bride and groom. The really fun part is that MY childhood babysitter was there.

I had some fun observations, but I don't remember them. I've been fighting a headache all afternoon. Actually, I've had it since I slammed my face in a door.

I have bible study in the morning. I wish I could just sleep instead. But if I don't go, the kiddos will still get me up, so I might as well go, eh?

OH, and another fun thing-well, not so fun, maybe, but cool or something. Or maybe it's just sad. I ran across an old boyfriend about a week ago-you know, the hot, successful one who dumped me for no good reason. God has an amazing sense of um, something. I'm not thinking all that clearly, so bear with me. Anyway, it turns out that this guy is still single, living a life that I definitely would not want to be living, and... hahahahaha... here's the funny part-he's going bald. Usually, I don't laugh at the follically challenged. But this guy was sooo vain about his hair. He spent more time on his hair than I did. If I played with his hair or anything like that, he'd totally freak and then dash to the bathroom to fix it. He had enough styling products to outfit a salon. So I am rolling at the irony of him going bald.

Oh, but God's sense of whatever. If I'd ended up with this guy, I'd be living this totally different life-one that I would not have been happy in. He knew what I needed, so even though this guy made me feel bad way back when, I am soooo glad I didn't end up there. :)

Problem solved

Well, not exactly, but it's a start.

As many of you who regularly read my blog know, when I start whining and wrestling with God, He likes to say, "Okay, dummy, I'll show you. No sleepy time tonight." Yep.

My tired head hit the pillow and the little voice hit me...

"Who said things were supposed to go right for you?"

Excuse me? What was that?

"Where exactly do I say that things are going to go right for you?"

Crap.

All right then, so what would be the point of this exercise in insanity?

"What's more important to you? Me or things going right for you?"

Ummm... you?

"So why are you spending more time whining about how bad life sucks than you are on me?"

Ummm... because?

"So what's more important to you?"

Errr...

Does this mean things will get better now? Or is this just the prelude to the big dump? Yeah. I guess I'll be up a little later while we wrestle it out, eh?

I should probably comment on the fat thing before you all do

Okay, I know-some of you think I'm the skinniest thing ever. And I could live with that, except that when I gain weight like this, I feel like utter crap physically. I'm back to the weight where my doctor said, "You need to lose a few pounds". So for me, it's a medical concern as well. Yes, it bugs me that my stomach is like jello. I accept that my hips will never fit back into the size 2 jeans I wore through college. I'm fine with that. I've borne two children, and I have the stretch marks to prove it. I'm fine with that too. The fact that my husband's chest is bigger than mine-well, okay, that smarts a little. But nothing can be done about that other than surgery, and I am NOT down with that.

The way I see it, it could be worse, but it could also be better.

Did I mention I tried on clothes all afternoon? ICK

The other thing I wanted to say, because I have a friend who deals with being overweight. I went to her house a few weeks ago, and all over the place, she's got sticky notes reminding her how fat she is. ICK ICK ICK. She is really a very pretty woman. In fact, and this might have some of you barfing all over yourselves, but here it is: Most of my friends who are overweight-they are a thousand times prettier than I am. And they never realize it. All they see is that compared to them, I'm skinny. This girl is so worried about how fat she is and how being so overweight, she'll never find a husband that she is not seeing how completely gorgeous she is. And I want to put that encouragement out to those of you who read my blog-for those of you whose pictures I've seen-you guys are so freaking gorgeous, it amazes me. I don't get how I can be surrounded by so many beautiful people. And before you say, "ah, she's not talking about me," let me just stop you right here and say, "yes, I am."

So why am I whining about my weight then? I guess, because on top of all the other discouraging things that have been happening to me lately, it royally sucked to know that even though I am trying so hard to do all the right things weight and health wise, there I am, wasting good money on new pants because I'm obviously not doing it right enough. In case you didn't get this, I seldom, if ever, buy things for myself unless they're books or something I absolutely NEED.

And no, my bad mood of the last post is not based solely on having to buy new fat pants. It really is a culmination of nothing going right for me lately. I seriously cannot think of a single thing that's gone right in the past couple weeks. Everything I've thought would be a blessing has been not so much of one, and all the good things that were supposed to happen have not happened.

I really need to go to bed.

A deep dark ick mood

Yeah that about says it all.

Anyone feel like blowing something up?

Here's what I don't get-you work so hard, and no matter what you do, it's like spinning your wheels and getting nowhere. So here's the basic foundation of my mood tonight-nothing is going right for me right now and it's so hard. I mean, okay, before I get too poor me melodramatic, I will say that I have two great kids, a husband who lets me sit here and cry over this garbage, a roof over my head, and food in my belly. But I can't help but ask, is this it? Is this the best I can hope for my life to be?

And yeah, okay, the whole God thing. I get it. He's the point. And I could content myself with that-if I lived in a monastary or a convent. And trust me, I've considered it. If I ever lost my husband or kids, you can pretty well count that I'd go join a convent. Seriously.

But that's not my point. Really, I don't have a point, except to whine about how hard my life is, and how I seem to be sucking at everything I attempt. I hate that all these people keep putting me in charge of crap that I just can't do. And I hate that just when I think I'm finally getting it, I get slammed down so hard I wonder why I even bothered trying in the first place.

I know, I sound like a pathetic loser right now, and I'm sorry for that. I'm just hurting, and mad, and I really don't understand. Why would God give me all these dreams and opportunities if all I'm going to do is fall flat on my face? If I'm just going to keep spinning my wheels? How exactly is all this mess glorifying to God? Is it just so that I can realize how utterly impossible it is for me to do this on my own? Newsflash-I got that already.

Yeah, so I'm a bit hostile. I just don't get it, and I don't get the point, and for a person who needs answers and reasons, this is not a good thing. Like, I know that in the end, it will all turn out okay. But I want the map. I want to know HOW. I want to know WHEN. This whole God thing completely sucks for a control freak like me. And you know, it's not so much the control thing that bothers me, but the knowledge and understanding thing. Because I really don't understand.

And maybe I sound like some petulant child who has everything but still has to whine about the things she doesn't have. Trust me, I hate myself for even being whiney about this. Because I know I have it good. I know that I am blessed. I know that God loves me despite all of this ick. And even if I get ickier, God is still going to love me.

I am just trying to make sense of all this mess I'm trying to dig through-is it like the donkey caught in the well-where as much as I think I'm getting more and more crap dumped on me, in reality, all my stomping is eventually going to get me out? Lord, I hope so, because I honestly don't know how much more I can take. I am retreating into serious hermit mode. It's funny, I don't do any of those things that a lot of people do to dull the pain. I don't drink, do drugs, sleep around, overeat, hurt myself, hurt others-I just hide out and pretend it doesn't exist until I forget about it and can move on. Not very healthy, either, I suspect, but I've never claimed to be sane.

Ah, it's midnight now, and I still have packing to do. Family wedding this weekend-had to buy new pants because it's going to be too cold for any of the dresses that fit, and my dressy pants are now too tight. You know life sucks when you haven't done anything different, but you're getting fatter. I am convinced, however, that all of those "no sugar, no calorie" diet drinks actually make you gain weight. My weight gain started when I started drinking them. ICK.

Going to bed would absolutely rule about now. There's a man and a dog waiting for me. But we have an 8 am soccer game, and then we're hitting the road, so unless I want a super early morning, I've got to get ready now. Fat pants, here I come.

My fun new hobby

Mission get rid of man stink is complete. In the past twenty four hours, I have done ten loads of laundry. (My bedding alone is four)

In the process, I discovered a fun new hobby: Tormenting That Man. Yes, I know, I do it a lot anyway. However, today I took it to a whole new fun level. Paranoia. All he knows is that I'm doing something that I think is sneaky and fun. His brain is doing the rest. It kills him that I won't tell him what I'm up to and that he has no Internet access. And of course, because he knows the twisted places my brain likes to visit, he has all sorts of thoughts running through his brain. Tee Hee.

Anyway, I am off to sleep in my lovely clean bed.

If any of you are sans stinky man for a couple of nights, I highly recommend this. My Sara is going to be doing the same thing when her man goes out of town next week. I should start my own anti man stink club. :)

Those stupid TV people/Man junk

One of the very minor pieces of trivia you may not know about me is that I do watch television other than Veronica Mars. I know, shocker, but I've got to have SOMETHING to do until October, and my second favorite show coincidentally comes on AFTER my beloved Veronica, so it works out perfectly. Tonight, the season premiere of Law and Order:SVU. Now, for those of you who don't follow the show, allow me to recap you. Last season ended with some lovely tension between Stabler and Benson very much unresolved and I was quite looking forward to seeing some resolution this season.

How do they start this season? Blah blah blah, they go through a mildly entertaining episode (aka Benson and Stabler are working together, but Benson is mostly with the stupid FBI girl, so we see none of the Benson/Stabler chemistry I love. ICK). At the end of the episdoe, it turns out that my beloved Olivia has supposedly infiltrated this band of eco terrorists, and now she's cleared out and is working with the FBI undercover. Um. NO. First, I would just like to say that there is no way Olivia is going to be able to pass as this ecoterrorist chick any further than she already has. Second, GRRRRRR... Okay, yes, I understand the whole Mariska was pregnant deal, so they had to work her out of it for a while. But come ON! What am I going to do without my beloved Olivia for so long?

On top of that, That Man is off traipsing about the globe while I'm stuck at home with kiddos. Okay, fine. I've had it with all of his stinky man crap, so I decided that while the hubby's away, the wife will... clean? Yes, I know, I'm sick, terribly sick, but there's nothing that can be done about it. My goal is that tomorrow night, I will be sleeping in a clean bedroom, free of the rotten stench of man butt and other miscellaneous man junk. I am even going to sleep in fresh, clean sheets all by myself and will be able to enjoy a perfect, wonderful, night's sleep. I am so excited.

Anyway, as I was cleaning out his half of the bedroom, I had the TV on for background. Do you know that there's this horrible show where they clean out people's junk? Okay, I originally thought it was a cool show, because I was hoping it would give me ideas for stinky man stuff to throw out, but then they started tossing books. "Why do you want to keep this book?" "Because it has memories of..." "Are you ever going to read it again?" "No." "Okay, let's throw it out." WHAT? Who ARE these freaks that they allow on television? If anyone EVER sends one of those stupid TV people to MY house to throw out MY books, I will personally shove any and all books they try to throw out up their... oh, wait, I'm trying to be nice.

Some of you are probably wondering, well, if you're so uptight about your books, why don't you leave That Man's man junk alone? First off, I am not throwing anything out that does not belong in the garbage. You know, wrappers, soda cans, nasty half eaten moldy stuff I don't even want to know what it is, papers, weird odds and ends (stuff he has said I can toss), toenail clippings, mud, I hope you get the picture. It's GROSS. I have to live with that. On the plus side, I have collected about $15 from his floor. Wahoo. And then, there's the laundry. I've always believed that I'm his wife, not his mommy. So, like a good wife, I do his laundry, fold it, and put it on his chair. He throws it on the floor. Also, being a man, he "recycles" clothes, so there's also a pile of "not dirty enough to wash". Over time, these piles get mixed up, along with the dirty clothes that don't always make it to the dirty clothes area. My rule: you want it washed, you either put it in the dirty clothes, or you leave it somewhere that will really irritate me so I pick it up and wash it. I don't recommend the second option, because it comes with major attitude on my part.

Well, major attitude is here. I found almost an entire washload worth of dirty, smelly socks. Any guesses, aside from the trash I threw out, why my bedroom smells like something died in it?

Except for the fact that I am looking forward to sleeping in a CLEAN room for the first time since the last time I went this ballistic (and that time didn't count, because he came home, dumped his stinky man stuff on the floor, so it really wasn't pristine), I would question my sanity in doing this. See, the trouble with those cleaning out the junk from house shows is that all it does is give the people room for more junk. Because I'm the nice wife that I am, the man junk that I have no discernable place for goes into a box for him to sort and put away. Thus far, I have accumulated a number of such boxes that now sit under my bed, and to my knowledge, he has never attempted to clean out. Tempting to toss, I can assure you. But I respect his man junk. Besides, he'll keep bringing home more.

Needless to say, I'm not in happy Dreamy mode-I'm tired, sneezy (from all the dust that has popped up-did I mention his side only gets vacuumed if it's picked up?), and irritated. I know that he'll come home, dump his bag on the nice clean floor, take all the clothing that I washed and folded, throw it on the floor, and things will look just as they did when he left. However, I will have one amazing night of bliss that I am soooo looking forward to. I'm going to savor every moment, because I know it will be months, even years, before I get the opportunity again.

(And since I know That Man is reading-I would just like to take this moment to say that if he really wants to do a loving, romantic thing for his wife, he'll come home, unpack, put everything where it belongs, put away his clean clothes, and even take a stab at his boxes 'o junk.)

Growling Bunnies and other items of note

That's the name of B's soccer team, and I have to say, what a great name for a bunch of five and six year old girls. So B had her first game today, and WAHOO! She scored 6 goals. I love watching kids that age chase a ball around a field.

I'm in a tired, bleh, mood, so not a whole lot else to say. Yesterday, I was really funked out, but just as I had completely hit the lowest point, one of my dearest author friends called me. I'd talked to her last week about the whole likability factor with my characters, so she told me we'd talk this week. Well, I was in the midst of mega feeling sorry for myself over the fact that life just keeps handing out the crap and not bothering with the toilet paper. I'd pretty much gone to my room, pulled the covers over my head and decided I was going to spend the baby's naptime until I had to get B from the bus stop feeling sorry for myself. But, then the phone rang, and I was forced to choose: indulge in self pity or do something about it.

So... want to hear her great advice? Motivation, motivation, motivation. In my case, it's there. I know what motivates my characters, but it needs to be clearer on the page for the readers. And I need to go deeper. Faster. And as she gently suggested, I'm not drawing from the more emotional part of me to do it. Okay, yeah. So maybe I am a bit afraid to go there. But going there-that's what is going to create the stories that touch lives. Alrighty then. Better get on a wet suit or flak jacket or something like that.

The other thing we talked about was The Book. She agrees I need to write it. I'm pretty sure she was laughing when I told her the whole God thing behind it. You know, the "Danica, you lovable idiot you," laugh. And then the little stinker used my beloved Todd against me. She said the thing I needed to remember, in terms of my angst over my heart needing to change so that I could write The Book, is that I had to remember something important about his quote. He wrote the song before he was in a place where God could use it. It didn't get used until he was in that place. But he still wrote it. He wrote it first. I've been waiting to write The Book until I was in the right place. Um, it doesn't work that way. And, as my dear friend pointed out, perhaps it's the process of writing The Book that is going to change my heart.

Right. So back to the drawing board.

Or maybe I'll just run away and become a growling bunny.

Shockwaves

That Man and I never watch the news. It's too depressing. But tonight, just as we were watching the tail end of CSI, the preview for the news caught our eye. It seems that one of our local teachers, a teacher both of the older children had, has been arrested for child pornography.

I do want to point out that I very much believe in the American justice system, and that you are innocent until proven guilty.

But you know, I'm a bit shaken. He seemed like the last guy on earth, if you know what I mean. The kids all loved him, and IMO, he was one of the best teachers the kids had. He made such an impact on the oldest, that he even came to his high school graduation party, and he teaches elementary school. I just-I can't picture it, and yet they showed footage of his IMs with a supposed 13 year old as well as him on his webcam. ICK.

I just don't know what to think or believe right now. But I do know, that if these allegations are true, it's just devastating. Even if they are false, a man's life is now ruined and the peace of mind of a community is just destroyed. I keep thinking in my head that he taught two of our children. He seemed like such a nice man. If he could do such a thing, and I still can't wrap my brain around the idea that he would, how can I be certain that my children are safe in the future. I couldn't pick this guy out.

But like I said, he was arrested, not found guilty, and I'd like to believe in his innocence, even if the bits of evidence on tv were pretty convincing.

So please pray for him-if he is innocent, that he would be able to survive this ordeal, as the information on the news was pretty overwhelming and bad. If he is guilty, I pray for his healing. And I also would just like prayers for his family as well as the community at large. He was so loved by the people in the school-I can't imagine what a shock this is for them as well. And of course, please pray for the victims and their healing. The news report said all of this was with an undercover police officer, but who knows if he did anything (if he did do it) to an actual child.

An overdue post

Most of you who know me know by now that I have a lot of great intentions-I mean well, but sometimes I get sidetracked in all the "stuff" life throws at me.

Rewind a couple months *cringe* to the CBA conference. There, I had the opportunity to hear Philip Yancey speak about his new book on prayer. Now, for those of you who don't know who he is, all I can say is go forth and buy ALL of his books. Seriously. The guy has such an amazing take on Jesus that for people who've written off "The Guy" because the churches stink, it'll make you stop and rethink "The Guy". Because truly, if you've listened to my rants long enough, and heard my thoughts on The Book, you know that I'm not particularly fond of most churches, but boy, do I love Jesus.

Anyway, Yancey's main topic was on Prayer, which, coincidentally (haha) is the topic of his latest release. He said a lot of cool things, and I really felt inspired to make some changes on my blog. Which I promptly forgot to do. Fast forward to tonight. Philip Yancey was a guest speaker at my church. Wahoo. Except I was on nursery duty. We had a record 20 babies in there. Needless to say, I did not get to hear my beloved Yancey speak. I know, sucks to be me.

However... afterwards, he did a signing. WAHOO ME!! I bought his latest book on Prayer (Me-el cheapo girl-actually paid $18 for a book). I also picked up a copy of The Jesus I Never Knew, because I don't know where mine is. Stood in line while my children went completely bananas, got my books signed, got to meet him and his wife (who is an incredibly sweet woman-she corralled my kids and got my older child to help me while I chatted with her hubby). And he encouraged me in my writing. Super Wahoo Me!

So back to the change I had wanted to make to my blog. I was reminded of this because at one point, we had a number of screaming children in the nursery, one of whom is a breastfed baby that we couldn't really help, if you know what I mean. So I got to go into the service to put the kiddo's number up, and my beloved Philip said something that made me forget my mission. He was talking about praying for Al-Qaida, and what sort of difference it would make if we each "adopted" a member of the group to pray for.

Praying for one's enemies.

We're really good at praying for our friends, and if someone says, "hey, I need this," we'll say, "I'll pray for you." But what about our enemies? Jesus says we're supposed to. But do we? Okay, I admit to praying that their house will blow up or they'll be infected with boils as a result of the horrible things they've done to me. But what about sitting down, and saying, Lord, help me to have a right heart toward this person. Teach me to love this person as you do." Because yes, folks, God loves the members of Al-Qaida too. Not what they do, but them. And because Yancey is a billion times smarter than I am, and because he quotes a guy who is also a billion times smarter than I am, I'm going to quote his take on it from his book.

"God loves his enemies," concludes Bonhoeffer; "that is the glory of his love." We defeat our enemies by loving them, and prayer activates that love.

I am so weary of some of the burdens I carry. Tonight, I spoke with a man who I had a grudge against for a really long time. Our problems were based off of a misunderstanding that snowballed into what became a nightmare for That Man and I. Even though That Man had pretty much forgiven this guy a long time ago, I had a harder time with it, but I got over it. However, this person is back in our lives. And he's apologized to That Man several times. Usually, he calls for That Man and doesn't say all that much to me, but since That Man wasn't home tonight, he talked to me for a bit. I could tell he was nervous, talking to me, and I know that he's commented to That Man about being nervous that I would still hate him. But we talked, and he apologized. And while I haven't hated him for a long time, there was still a feeling of relief in having that apology, rather than the hate, between us.

What does that have to do with prayer? A while back, this person became a father to a special needs child. I began to pray for him and the child. Did that lead to this guy's apology? I doubt it. But what it did was open my heart in compassion towards a person that I disliked for a really long time.

An appropriate ending to the evening of almost hearing Yancey speak. But hey, the book is right here, so I'm sure you all know what's on my agenda for the next few days.

So here's the challenge I want to give to you guys-and, I'm going to try to do this as a semi regular, semi permanent deal. I'm creating a wall of prayer. We're going to be praying for our enemies. I'm committing myself to pray for my enemies, as well as any enemies that people want to list. I hope you'll join me on this journey-I've started a new blog Praying for our Enemies just for that purpose. I hope to see you there!

Why travelling with me is more fun than having a needle in the eye

So, in case you didn't totally know, I was in Portland for the weekend. Have I mentioned I love Oregon? If it weren't for all the gray days, I'd move there. We almost did, but that's another story.

Which brings me to the KY jelly story. Being the good nonterrorist that I am, I checked the TSA site to see what I could carry on and what I had to check. The lip goo that I love-NOT allowed. However, they DO allow up to 4 ounces of personal hydrating fluid, aka KY jelly. Yes, they specifically mention it.

I REALLY wanted to ask a TSA supervisor why, but really, why make myself a target? So I boarded the plane, dry lips and all, wondering if I should have brought some KY. I mean, it's the same substance. I thought it would be cool to pass around a tube of KY like mints. Surely someone else had parched lips. (For the record, SOME types of lip stuff were allowed-MINE was not)

Anyway, we got there, and Shelly picked us up with her little poochies in tow. She has little dogs that would fit in a purse-I want one! But I really do not want another dog. We decided that since we were in Oregon, we HAD to go to the coast. So we drove the two hours to the coast and ate at Mo's. Yum. Although I didn't think their famous chowder was so worthy of the label. But seafood is seafood. Our main disappointment was that we didn't get there until dark. :(

Since we had nothing better to do during the drive, I regaled Shelly with my tales of lip woe. The thing that really disturbed me about the KY jelly was that it's not like you can even USE it for its intended purpose on the plane. They only let you in the lavatory one at a time, so unless you plan on very publicly joining the mile high club, what's the purpose of having it exactly? Besides that, I swear, if you even sniff like you're going to move out of your seat and take off your seatbelt, the flight attendants flip out. Seriously. Prior to this summer, I have never seen flight attendants so paranoid about making sure you're buckled up at all times.

So we spent a lot of time brainstorming about KY-which isn't as funny unless you know Shelly, who is this straightlaced Christian woman who really doesn't make a lot of off color jokes, but boy, when she does... it's funny. Shelly got thirsty, so we stopped by 7-11 to get her a drink and since my lips were still dry, I decided to find some lip stuff. The interesting thing is that while 7-11 had plenty of lip stuff, they did not have a single container of KY. Yes, I checked. Because maybe, I was approaching the problem all wrong. Maybe I should switch my preference in lip products over to KY. And then, I wouldn't have to sit on a plane with dry lips.

The next day, we breakfasted with friends, did a little shopping, visited with some other friends, did a little business, ate until we thought we were going to explode, went to bed. We also told the KY story a couple more times and added a few more product benefits. I'm telling you, we could get jobs selling KY. Thanks to TSA, it's going to be the hottest selling multipurpose product since duct tape.

The next morning, we decided to drive up to Astoria for the day. Unfortunately, it took 2 1/2 hours to go 70 miles, so it ended up being lunch in Astoria and drive back to Portland for the flight. We decided, though, that Astoria is worthy of another visit, and will be planning another trip for next fall.

I had to deep six my newfound lipstuff to get back on the plane, and I regretted not switching to KY. Of course, since 7-11 has not joined the KY bandwagon, I would have been in trouble anyway. I wonder, do you think there might be some sort of inside deal going on? You know, like the KY people paying TSA to make sure THEIR product is on the official list? 48 Hours should do an investigation.

However, it doesn't solve the problem that I still have chapped lips. KY anyone?

Could someone please tell the universe...

That I am not a toilet and to please stop crapping on me?

Thanks.

Yes, I'm being whiney again. I hate it when I have whiney blogs. It's so weird, despite success in some areas lately, I feel like I am barely holding the rest of my life together. I just don't get why it always has to be so hard. And I'm really hating that I get a glimmer of hope that just sort of dissipates. PLEASE may I blow something up?

Great. Now I can't mention what I'm doing tomorrow, or else I'll have Homeland Security after me.

Dear Friends at Homeland Security,

I honestly do not wish to blow anything up. Frankly, I probably could not blow anything up if I tried. I don't even know HOW to blow stuff up. And if I did, the only thing I would probably blow up, with the way my life is going, is myself. But hey, the bright side is you'd be able to close your file on me, and I'd be with Jesus. Seriously, any and all mention I make of blowing stuff up is just me being PMSy.

Thank you for your time.


OH! OH! OH!

I forgot to tell this story! I almost DID blow up the neighborhood on Monday. That was so freaky. We're barbecuing, I have a deck full of people, and I'm just chatting along as I'm flipping burgers. It starts to feel a bit warm, but on my legs, which is odd, since we have a gas grill and the flames are up top, so I feel them on my arms. I look down, and the propane tank is ON FIRE! Now, raise your hand if you know what happens when fire and propane come in contact with each other. If you answered KABOOM! you're partially right.

Ordinarily, that IS what happens. However, because I am paranoid about all the weird man stuff That Man does, we have fire extinguishers on hand. He grabs a fire extinguisher, puts out the fire, and the funny thing is, one of our friends is a firefighter. He didn't realize what was happening until That Man hosed everyone down with a fire extinguisher. Fortunately, the first wave of burgers and dogs were ready about that time, none of them got doused, and I was at least able to get the pregnant lady and children fed before they caused a riot. Unfortunately, the fire melted a control thingy on the grill so the men had to play MacGyver before I could cook more burgers. And, just because I know you were wondering, we did have a spare propane tank-after all, doesn't everyone? You never know when your other one is going to blow up. The men did figure out that the first propane tank had a defective seal, which caused propane to leak, and badda bing, you have propane tank on fire. The good news is that even if I'd blown up the neighborhood, we do live two blocks from the fire station, so they'd have been able to contain most of the damage. ;)

See, even with all the right equipment, right setting, I can't even blow up my neighborhood. I am such a pathetic excuse for a homicidal maniac.

You know, maybe that could be my next book-homicidal maniac who desperately wants to blow up the universe and keeps failing miserably. And, because I'm a miserable, rotten psychopath, my heroine will finally succeed the day she meets Mr. Perfect. Can she keep the universe from blowing up in time?

The only thing keeping me from blowing something up

Is my beloved Todd.

Seriously.

Critique did not go well. Okay, maybe it was a bit ambitious to think that they'd come up with something like, "Wow, Danica, that was the most brilliant thing you've ever written." But basically, despite the fact that my writing is technically perfect, they once again, hate my characters.

Why am I still doing this?

Frankly, I LIKE my characters, but no one else does. I do not get this. Am I that much of a social deviant that the people I think are incredibly intriguing are the ones that the rest of the world thinks deserves to die?

I don't get it, honestly. For five years, I've been trying to conform to what the whole rest of the world wants, and I just can't do it. I guess I'm stuck as a psychopath or sociopath, or whichever title best fits at the moment.

Fortunately, on the way home, the first song that came on the radio was This Fragile Breath by Todd Agnew (aka my beloved Todd. Since I am such a deviant, and given that I have my little pet name for him, I'm sure he's got his "people" watching me to make sure I don't blow him up or something. Message to Todd's people: I do not wish to blow him up or cause him any harm. I like him. He calms me when I'm homicidal.) Anyway, there's this one verse that really gets me:

I searched the world for a poem I could read
A rhyme that would bring Glory to my King
But no writing I found was worthy of
This God high above All other gods
What are my words compared to yours

It occurred to me as I was listening to these words for probably what is at least the millionth time, as much as I try to write something worthy, it's never going to compare. Nothing that comes out of my brain will ever be the brilliant masterpiece I want it to be. I realize I'm going to seem much more depressed and bitter than I mean to, but I just have to let it out as honest as I can, so bear with me, and don't have me committed. Or no, maybe you should. Because I just do not feel like I belong in this world. And hey, I'd get a day full of nap time and making crafts with popsicle sticks and paste. Anyway... my point.

I don't understand why I'm here. If I was meant to be a writer, then why is this so dang hard? Why did I spend the first 2/3 of my life hearing "Danica's writing is brilliant" only to be beating my head against the wall because the only people I like are the ones everyone else thinks is psychotic. I'm seriously questioning my mental health here, because the people I think are normal and likable are the ones everyone else thinks are deviants.

So okay, I'm nuts.

But what's really nuts-is that despite all of this, I'm still working at it. Trying to be better, to do better, to finally come up with something that really is brilliant. And maybe, in the process, I'll find something worthy of the King.

But if I were you-I'd make sure I always had plenty of Todd on hand, because if I were to lose his music, I probably would blow up the world instead.

Nothing new to report

Well, I'm off to critique tomorrow night. So I've been working on my chapter one rewrites. I'm still not satisfied. Ah well. My beloved Sharon is in town and I'm sure when she looks at it, she'll tell me what I was really thinking and we'll clear it all up. (You can laugh hysterically now.) Actually, I am eager for Sharon to read it because she'll be able to give me the vote of Inspy or not. She's much more objective than I am.

I had a very cute pic of the first day of soccer to post, but I spent a good portion of the evening trying to get the baby to stay in bed and not hurl objects at her sleeping sister, so I haven't downloaded anything. Wanted to get the chapter polished as best as I could before fun time. :)

Fighting off a lovely headache, so I'm off to dreamland now... maybe in the morning, the head will be clearer and when I re-examine chapter one, it will suddenly pop out with what I need. At least that's the hope.

Socka Balls

I can't sleep, so you get a post on Socka Balls.

As you all know, I am married to the soccer king of the universe. Well, I understand that David Beckham might take issue with that, however, That Man is king in my book. Anyway, soccer season is upon us. UGH. I realize it's two seasons ago, but I still have visions of him breaking some poor dude's leg. Last season, a guy on his team got his face broken. Literally. The trouble with old man soccer is that they still think their bodies can do young man soccer. It can't.

Anyway, in addition to That Man playing soccer, we once again have a child in soccer. The older two played through Middle School, and now, it's B's turn. Practice starts on Tuesday. We have the uniform (which she could swim in), we have the gear, but we can't find a decent soccer ball in the right size among the thousands of soccer balls that exist in my home. Personally, I think That Man just wanted an excuse to buy a soccer ball.

We get to the sporting goods store (because God Forbid you buy a game ball at say, Target), and for $12.95, we are the proud owners of a brand new soccer ball for B. The trouble is, K spotted the ball display and started shouting, "SOCKA BALL!". I was NOT spending $12.95 on a ball for a two year old when any one of the thousands of balls we already own will do quite nicely for her. But I did feel bad, since big sister was getting all this cool stuff, and frankly, I thought she was going to kill someone if she didn't get her very own "SOCKA BALL". We had to go to Target anyway, so I told her she could get one there. SOCKA BALL at Target-$4. Happy Baby-priceless.

Except now, she won't let go of her "SOCKA BALL." She screamed bloody murder when we took her out of the car sans SOCKA BALL. In fact, she decided she needed to sleep with her SOCKA BALL. And because little sister was doing it, big sister had to. So, I present for your viewing pleasure... sleeping with our SOCKA BALLS. I am so thankful that of all the horrific things That Man does in our bed (like making it smell like man butt), he does not force me to sleep with his SOCKA BALL. He is, however, quite proud to call the girls his.

(Oh, and for the sake of pointing out that I am a proper mom, my child is clothed under that SOCKA BALL-she sleeps in her undies)

Oh. My. Wow.

It’s a mishmash, guys, despite a title indicating that I’ve had a mega epiphany. Well, I have. I talked with my friend, Lori Wilde and she sent me her worksheet on theme. Despite my disorganized brain’s protests, I actually printed out a bunch, put them in a notebook, and have begun the laborious task of going through each scene and answering the questions.

Um, did I say, “Wow”? Plus, I’ve begun digging through the Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook by Donald Maass, and pulling some of the questions he asks out of it and putting it into this worksheet thing. I can’t stand going through the workbook. I haven’t read most of the books, and of course, I get irritated when the scene ends and I want to know what happens next. I am NOT buying all those books. NOT. NOT. NOT. Although, can I just be a royal witch for about five seconds? He MISUSES my beloved apostrophe in a few places. If you have not read my apostrophe post, then you should, for context. IMO, it is one of the worst sins on the planet. I’m sure I could find Biblical evidence, if given enough time.

So anyway, I am through chapter one in my analysis, and WAHOO!! I am seeing some light, and I think I know how I can improve it and really make it shine.

The Next Item Up For Bid

No, not doing any online auctioning, I just wanted that as a section title. Writer’s prerogative, you know. I have finally put more pics of the kiddos on my photobucket account, so if you know it, you can go see them. I also put a couple on My Space, but was too lazy to do them all. I’m such a sloth.

Catching up with Old Friends

Two way fun things happened over the weekend. One, this guy I knew in high school and went to prom with found me on My Space and reminded me of certain incriminating photos involving a marshmallow fight. Good times, those were. He’s a sweet guy, was a good friend, and for all you single gals, he is still single. I could totally hook you up. He does a mean BBQ. Of course, he’ll probably kill me if and when he reads my blog, but hey, he’s clear across the country. HAHAHAHAHA.

The second way fun thing is that I went to a BBQ at a friend’s house (I know, two social events in one weekend, what is WRONG with me). It was cool, though, because it was basically a get together for a bunch of us who served together on the same ministry team at our church for a long time and well, after a series of unfortunate events, I’m the only one left of the gang. The last time we got together, B was just a baby. It was fun, because we have newlyweds, new babies, and just a lot of life to catch up on. It reminded me how much I miss them, and you know, as much as there are things I do like about our church, seeing my old cronies reminded me just how isolated I feel. I haven’t had church buddies like them in about five years. Ugh. I was supposed to be talking fun here! It was fun, though. I just wish they all didn’t live 45 minutes away. We did promise to get together more often.

In Conclusion

It’s been a busy, crazy weekend, and tomorrow, I am having around thirty people in my house. I am insane. Insane, I tell you. Tomorrow, look for tales of Socka Balls unless something more amusing happens at the party. Perhaps another funny think involving Socka Balls will happen.

Viral Blogging

Well, you know me, always supportive of my friends... and when I read Nalini's blog a while back about this thing she was doing, I meant to do it and forgot. Fortunately, she posted a reminder, so here it is. Do pass it along, and do check out her book if you get a chance. She does not necessarily write to the specifications of some of my readers, but she is still a terrific author, and just as terrific a person, so go out and support her.

I am participating in a blogging experiment hosted at dearauthor.com. To enter the contest, put up this blurb, image, and trackback and you are entered to win the following prize package.

• $200 Amazon gift certificate


• Signed copy of Slave to Sensation


• New Zealand goodies chosen by Singh


• ARC of Christine Feehan's October 31 release: Conspiracy Game

You can read about the experiment here and you can download the code that you need to participate here.

SLAVE TO SENSATION

Nalini Singh

Berkley / September 2006

Welcome to a future where emotion is a crime and powers of the mind clash brutally against those of the heart.

Sascha Duncan is one of the Psy, a psychic race that has cut off its emotions in an effort to prevent murderous insanity. Those who feel are punished by having their brains wiped clean, their personalities and memories destroyed.

Lucas Hunter is a Changeling, a shapeshifter who craves sensation, lives for touch. When their separate worlds collide in the serial murders of Changeling women, Lucas and Sascha must remain bound to their identities…or sacrifice everything for a taste of darkest temptation.

Excerpt

Did someone put something in my tea?

Okay,so even though last nights lament was a trifle on the depressing side, I think I finally broke through a wall in my thinking. Some of my own negative beliefs were translating themselves into my writing, and I think, too, the long-lost memory of the response I got to that very first book has been lingering. Crazy how we do that to ourselves, eh?

Anyway, I had a breakthrough tonight. I finally finished the read-through that I've been procrastinating on, and get this: I am actually excited about finishing the edits on this book. I'd forgotten what an amazing story this is. I am so loving my hero! And okay, I admit to slightly wishing That Man would learn a lesson out of this guy's life and learn that really loving someone means doing what they really need, not what you think they need. Big difference. Oh, but I'm digressing, aren't I? ;)

However, I have to admit to something. Usually, this is another procrastination tactic. This time, though, it's really a serious consideration. This book was originally intended to come after another book. Here's the deal: the first book was the one rejected by Harlequin Romance that finaled in a contest where I got good feedback and thought that if I changed it to an inspirational, I could make what they didn't like work. So here I am, editing the second book, and there are references to the first book. It stands alone, but if I am going inspirational, it really makes sense that I do the first book first, so that I can sell them in order, right? Except that I truly am excited about editing this second book. Although, when I got to the references about the first book, I felt excited about that book too. I seriously love these characters. Since I committed to editing this one, I will continue. But if you have any thoughts as to what I should do about this first book, it would be greatly appreciated. Should I just delete all the references in the second and then they can just each be totally unrelated? Or do I keep them, finish this, send it, and then revise the first, and when the second sells, or is close, I can say, "Oh by the way..."

ACK!!

Okay, off to bed so I can work on this tomorrow. I am so excited!!