Uncategorized

Two minutes and I’m done

It’s amazing…I’m driving down the road and on comes a song I totally can belt out…’Red, red wine.’ You know the one, right? I start grooving, singing the chorus like I’m performing to the passerbys, and just like that, after 2 minutes, I’m done. Next, please. Okay, Cyndi Laupert, ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.’ I get through what the mom says she’s gonna do with her life, then what the dad says and…I’m done. Moving on, please. And this is how it goes. This is possibly why I can’t manage to focus on a single, solitary thing in my life. By the way, can we tell what kind of music I’ve been into lately? It’s like I step into a time machine every time I take a ride. It’s great…while the first two minutes are going! lol

I think technology has put us in such a place where we can skip things that bore us. Can I see a show of hands that remembers waiting all day to hear a song play on the radio? With their Radio Shack recorder ready to press ‘record’? Actually I do have to wait for the song to finish lately because it is on the archaic radio station, but typically I listen to Spotify and I’m like two minutes, then skip. The same goes with my computer tabs. I’ve got a gazillion open at all times. Flipping and flopping. It’s a real problem. Same goes for my brain. I just took a shower and the whole time I’ve got 20 ideas, things, recipes, Amazon cart lists…you name it, swirling in my head like a helicopter without a landing pad. It’s exhausting!

So I did a thing yesterday. I think I’ve discussed mindfulness before on here. But yesterday I woke up and purposely became mindful of my day. My children. My hours. I left work at work. (which isn’t the greatest since I’m self-employed and people need me almost 24 hours, constantly) But I did. Every time my phone rang, I was like ‘whatever.’ And it made for the most amazing day. I thought of whatever was in front of me. My kids, in particular. And for like the first time, they didn’t stress me out. They really shouldn’t as much as I allow them to. They’re kids, for crying out loud. They have needs. Okay, so I don’t really need to see that deposit you made in the toilet. Just wipe and carry on with yourself. But, I let it roll yesterday. And I liked it a lot!! I just might try to do that more often.

I’ve been running a contest all month! I know, right? And I must’ve not been in the moment or I would’ve mentioned it sooner. Anyway, you’ve got 2 days to enter to win an Amazon card. So here is the link! I wish you luck and have a great rest of your week. 😉

https://gleam.io/1gKDc/fresh-fiction-july

 

Uncategorized

Masking the Normal

You know, you can make someone very unhappy when you say, “is this the new normal?” Trust me, I did and didn’t even mean to. Like wearing masks, not going to school, no more handshaking (which by the way, I’m completely cool with), and keeping apart in stores. Which also, by the way, I’m so okay with. Truth be told, I like having that invisible hula hoop of space between others. Have you ever been paying at the grocery store and someone is literally on top of you, waiting for you to sign that pesky card reader, breathing as though you’re taking more than the 10 seconds it takes to scrawl your mark and press ‘submit’. I dig it. But today…today was hilarious. I’m waiting at the entrance of the store in my car while my mother runs in for more hot dogs (we were 2 short for lunch) and a stretched, black Escalade glides in front of me and out pops a man. The car barely made a full stop and he was out the door. He was masked in this handkerchief and running toward the door. If this moment had only happened five months ago, I’d have called the cops and headed for the back to save my poor, hotdog-buying-mother. But it was just another customer, running in for whatever they were missing two of, no doubt. Isn’t it crazy? Do you wear a mask in places? I mean there are places that denies you entry without face coverings, but what about the others that are relaxed about the rule? I admit, I’ve gone in without one and I’m looked at like I’ve broken the law. Like I’m spilling chemicals with each breath I heave. “I forgot my mask!” I feel like shouting before I’m taken out and flogged. It’s such a weird time. And I certainly hope it’s not the new normal.

Onto an unrelated thought. I was driving down the interstate and saw a truck that had ‘Love your Veggies’ written on it. Now watch this…how my mind wanders. When did veggies become a word? Can we do this ‘ies’ with other words? I can imagine a mother trying to coax her tight-lipped toddler into eating their broccoli and while zooming the fork in for the landing, she says “Eat your veggies”. Because let’s face it, vegetables are so formal. Who can say it in a sing-song tone that your kid would open his mouth for it. Not that veggies makes the jaw unhinge. But it softens the formality of it. I had a beloved dog I named Walter. He was sooo a Walter. Large, gray, ghost-eyed Weimaraner. But what did I do when I talked lovey to him? “Come on Waltie”. Isn’t it crazy? Have you softened a word by changing the ending?

Onto the week…thank goodness it doesn’t resemble last week. Remember I had 7 doctor appointments last week? I thought I was going to hide on Friday and never come out. Yes, I got a haircut finally! And although I thought after not getting a cut since January, I’d resemble a castaway, it turns out only the top grew. After half an inch, I’m looking like me. Should I be taking vitamins? And the dentist, you ask…after not going for 2 years? It turns out I’ve been hiding for nothing. Recap: my last appointment, after 3 years, she said I had 6 cavities. I mean, come on, do I know anything about the bristols on the end of that handle? Do I not aim them nightly and move up and down? Evidently not with six cavities. I was so embarrassed, I left with my head hung and grabbing all the free toothbrushes they’d give me. But not really. This dentist, a new one, after looking at the same teeth I had 2 years ago, told me I only had one. One. Easy peasy. But then I have one that needs a crown. As long as it’s pretty, I’m fine. 🙂 Makes you wonder about the dentist that told me I had six. hmmm.

So here’s to a wonderful week, everyone. I have 3 doctor’s appointments in total for this one. Follow up for that cavity, and two for my daughter. I’m trying to take it one day at a time. After last week, I think this is doable.

Have a good one, everyone!! I’ll keep you posted on some sewing projects I’ve been making in my head at nights. I hope to sit in front of my machine soon and bring them to life. 😉

Uncategorized

Busy…the new 4 Letter Word

I realize there were come a time one day as I sit in my room, secluded and isolated from family because of my old age, (we all know younger people make little time for their elders) and remember how I used to be sooo busy. Maybe. Will I live to be that old? Working like this? Who knows. All I do know…at this very moment…after this very busy week, is that there is such a thing as too busy. It’s rather awful, really. Every day I’ve had appointments, endless hours of driving, picking up/dropping off, last minute grocery shopping, etc. I’d have to say I never complained aloud. Always had a smile. But let me tell you, by Thursday evening after 6 doctor’s appointments, a full week of my job, volley ball, and a foot surgery…..I’m pooped! And I still have a dentist and hair appointment awaiting me at 8 am. tomorrow. It’s insane. By the way, I haven’t had a hair cut since January…I’m definitely due! Will next week be different? Sure. They all are. But there’s something to know, something to always keep in perspective: when we’re too busy, we miss everything around us. The snuggles, the stories, and the companionship. It becomes a blur. Then I’m in my old age room wondering how it all flew by.

It’s okay to be tired, right? It’s okay that I don’t want to do all of it, right? Not all at one time at least. It stresses me out. And who can effectively be all those things? Business owner, author, Mom, girlfriend, yada yada? Well we can, but can we successfully? Can I remember to add all the fruits and protein in their diet, as well as wash the socks and email that teacher? It’s daunting, buddy. Daunting.

I listened to a mindfulness station yesterday while driving to my job. It was such gibberish that I ended up turning it, but I wish there was something to remind me to be mindful. Maybe some hints. Maybe just a road sign, blinking….SLOW DOWN!!!

In this horrible pandemic, I hope everyone has experienced a moment of slowing down. You know, after you concluded that cleaning out your closet was a monumental mistake? I’m in week 4 of walking around piles of clothes in mine. One to donate, one that I wish I’ll be that skinny again, and one that I just would cry if someone made me take it to goodwill, but I know the style is dead. Never to return. Should’ve thrown it out while I was in high school. Nah, it’s not that bad. On the bright side, stores, after not being open for a couple months, are trying to move some clothes. Sales are great! So as bags exit my closet, new things enter it. I digress…..Slowing down is good, Busy is bad. Don’t be so busy. (I’m telling myself, but you can listen too, if you need).

Busy…the new 4 letter word.

 

Uncategorized

Writing from the heart

Hello, world. It’s been awhile. I feel like it’s been an eternity. So much has happened since my last entry. So much, in fact, that it would take 20 entries to catch you up. As many of you know, or don’t know, I’ve been taking a break in order to welcome my new daughter home. We adopted her from Bulgaria a few months ago–literally 2 weeks before the travel ban. It’s right afterward, that my college kids had to return home and my ones at home had to stop attending school. I’m sure it’s been the same in everyone’s neck of the woods. It’s made it pretty busy here! (Just take away people being able to go to town, slap some face masks on them so you can’t see if they’re smiling or just dying inside, and certainly no air travel!)

Now that the trauma of being homebound has slightly worn off and we can move about the surroundings with proper headgear, I’m itching to get back to my passion…writing. Before we traveled out of the country, I began the first book in my new trilogy. It’s an exciting one, really. A bit of an ‘Amy’ series, if you will. But not the same at all. Just a girl with a few tangles of love interests and a lot of identifiable traits anyone can relate to. I’m working on it each chance I get. But it’s honestly been moving more slowly than I want. Am I procrastinating too much? Rewriting too many chapters before it’s finished? Who knows. But in the meantime, I thought I’d take a detour. Complete something I knew to be attainable. Something completely different for me. Yet dear to my heart.

I know it’s unusual for authors to flip genres. Some do quite successfully, though. A lot write under a different name when doing so. And I can understand the reasons. But I’m not sure if this isn’t an isolated book for me. Writing young adult is something one does all the time or doesn’t, I feel. So I’m just going to say that I’m releasing a bit of something that’s been trapped for some time. It’s actually a story I’ve kicked around for years. Two publishers took to it and wanted me to rewrite some major characters in it. I politely declined. Actually, once I did do a rewrite. Then I felt a little nauseated from it. As if I was giving up something that would now look entirely different if I did. Don’t get me wrong…I can get served criticism, then mix and bend and rework things. I do it a lot in different facets in my life. But when it’s a story in my heart…no thank you. It just doesn’t mean the same thing. And like I said, young adult isn’t my calling. But the story is. It’s called me to write it. And I’ll admit, I’m a bit stoked for doing so. I feel like I’m back to doing what I’m supposed to be doing…writing.

I’ll check in more often. Make sure someone out in this very bizarre world is finding my words. Hopefully being entertained with my thoughts and daily musings. Feel free to let me know you’re out there. It’s been a secluded couple months for many. I’ll keep you posted with cover reveals, snippets, and putting faces on the characters in my upcoming book. Until then, peace out! And I do mean, ‘peace’. I think we could all stand a whole lot of that right now. 😉

Uncategorized

Take Cheese Puffs for example

I can’t just eat one. Cheese puffs are my weakness. I’m not addicted by any means…until I open the bag. And then, let’s say, it’s my life’s mission to finish them until you can’t see that my fingers were once flesh toned. So I have to be careful when such a bag is purchased. I have to pour from…not eat directly from the container. The same goes for popcorn. And I must admit, it could be painful to watch me eat popcorn. Nothing like what’s depicted in this picture of Garfield. Nope, I eat one at a time. Sucking the salt from every popped kernel of the bowl. The large bowl. And this is how it goes for some of my choice picks in life. Transition to television…

As of late, I’ve taken to a new series. Ah, series. May I never watch prime time television again. I couldn’t possibly wait for the next week’s episode. No, I’ve gotta have it all right now. All 22 episodes to each of the seven seasons. It’s a problem, I fear. I’m locked into this thing like nothing else. I could walk the streets of this show and live quite normal. Talk to the characters and get great insight to their well beings. If they had any. I’m starting to remind myself of the crazy lady on Misery. lol

Enough about that. On to other things on my wondrous mind. Do you ever think in your mind that you’re happy you’re not so-in-so? Like living their life would be the pits? I admit, I sometimes do. Then I wondered tonight, ‘does someone ever think the same of me?’ Like, do they see my life as a train they hope they never catch? Food for thought. Luckily I’m ignorant to my own plight. I live it everyday. I’m immune to its every day taste. It’s like raising my kid and never seeing him grow. Uncle whoever shows up and his jaw drops at the six inches he’s grown since he last visited. This is a good thing. I guess.

It’s fall now. I’ve said it before, this season depresses me. Don’t get me wrong, I love it. The cooler weather, the change of colors, and the sweaters…thank the Lord for sweaters. Now I don’t look like a total geek wearing sweaters indoors. It’s cooler temperature, sure they matter! But then there’s the darker hour coming earlier, the less chatter of summer bugs and more chaos of annoying crickets. The land becomes barren, the trees get skinnier without foliage, and outside just gets sad. It’s a love-hate thing with me and fall.

So far, 3 of my kids have been sick because of this fall. I took 2 to the doctor last week. I hate when I regret doing that. But it had been three weeks of coughing. At what time do you take them? They didn’t have a fever, but the incessant coughing was getting out of hand. Surely it had gone bacterial by now, I thought. That’s what my normal doctor would’ve said. Had she been not retired and I was now forced to see an assistant to the assistant. *head palm* Yes, that assistant….she advised saline. Okay, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want her to prescribe a pharmacy at the first murmur of a cough, but this was 3 weeks. Incessant. To the point I told both of them to be quiet. Who does that? They’re coughing lungs up. But it was grating. On everyone. So I told the assistant to the assistant, “Can I just please get 2 prescriptions to go? Just in case it takes more than saline? You know, to make me feel like this $320 out of pocket visit is really worth it?” And so I’m the proud owner of 2 scripts for antibiotics. I’ll get it filled for sure. I earned that. Miraculously they’ve been coughing less. Even sans the saline. Who knows. Either way, I’ve got something to fight it with should it so boldly return as it did.

I’m off to contemplate some more. It’s a dangerous thing, you know. 🙂

Uncategorized

Heart of my Heart

I’m not sure if most of you know, but last year I adopted a little girl from China. I’d always wanted to adopt. I think it came mostly from knowing I had something (a family) and I could offer it someone who didn’t have something (a family). I could be their someone. A place, a home, a person to spend Christmas, birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Easter with. Always. When I think about how some people don’t have that, it breaks my heart. I came from a family where I was the youngest of 5, so I don’t know what it’s like, but I can imagine it would be like a black hole. Empty. Scary. And so it was extremely important that when I got married, I wanted my husband to know that I desired to adopt. I just had no idea that would take me across the world. Fate is so hilarious sometimes.

This little girl was sort of picked for us. The day I called in to the agency to ask about a sibling group was the day the family who had her on hold for six months, had given her file back. They weren’t going to move forward. I was asked if I’d be interested. Sure. They forwarded me her file. I remember reading the special need: Down Syndrome and repaired heart. Granted I’d never been around someone with Down Syndrome, but after pondering if this was something we could take on, my family said, YES! And here she is. Home for almost a year.

Adoptions are vastly different from one another. One family can have a wonderful, fairy tale experience, and one can cry daily, asking why they brought this in their lives. The disruption can destroy families in some cases. It’s not for the faint of heart. There is so much trauma. Specifically, international adoptions carry with them the layer of living in an institution for all their lives. Transitioning to a family is HUGE. Depending on the orphanage, there could even be abuse. We got lucky. So very lucky.

Before we left on that 20 hour trip to China, I asked my husband, “Do you think it’s going to feel like we’re babysitting her?” I mean, come on…we’ve never met her and they just hand her off to you and say sign here and here. What connection do you have? As if asking how this is going to weigh on you, consider her. It’s ripping her from all she knows–a culture, a dialect, routine, food….what person would love any of this?

As I looked around the table at my kids today, my eyes settled on this new face–this tiny life that floated into our lives through a roll of pictures on a laptop and a sketchy medical record. I was in awe of how much love my heart had for her. How although she did not come from me biologically, she is completely entangled with every fiber of love I feel for her. She is no different from my other children. I might have flown to China to get her, but somehow she always held a place in my heart.

The day we met her, she looked into my eyes, threw her arm around my neck, and called me mama. Her tiny lips kiss my cheeks several times a day like that first week we met her, and she is constantly astounding me with how brilliant she is. I cannot imagine life without her.

 

Uncategorized

What we don’t say

Let’s be honest, what we don’t say is probably more important than what we do say. Have you ever sat and thought about all the things you didn’t say in a single day? How strangled the words were, locked deep inside your mind? And why on earth would we strangle our own words? They’re only words after all. Words that we feel. Words that pop into our minds the very second something happens or is said, and we want to unleash them and just feel better for saying it.

Okay, I understand. Sometimes we might not think the most angelic thoughts…is that it? We might find what we are holding back is a tad, okay, very judgmental. Did that person even ask our opinion about what we thought? Probably, probably not. But you’re certainly giving it to them in your head. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Your girlfriend is a moron, and you need not spend one extra minute being around her. She might be contagious with her nasty.” Instead we might remain politically correct (ew, I hate that) and say “Maybe she didn’t mean to hurt your feelings when she said the job you have could be done by a fifth grader. Maybe she’s just having a bad day.”

Or we don’t say things in order to not hurt someone’s feelings. “This spaghetti she made tastes like the cardboard box the noodles slid out of.” Still…a good idea to keep the door locked on what we really think. Plus, It’s a bit amusing to do stand-up comedy in our heads sometimes. It can amuse us, especially when we’re gutting down tasteless spaghetti and smiling while it gets clogged down our esophagus.

But then there are the times that these little ol’ four, five, six, maybe seven letter words should be set free. Like when they’ve been bottled up for so long, if you set them underneath a rocket they would shoot it right to the moon. It’s been too long, too suppressed. They’ve made you ill. Poison seeps from the depths of where they remain locked away and slowly begins to kill you. Day after day. Slowly the jet propulsion ability they had become echoes in your mind like a deranged patient, clanging the cup along the cell bars of where they’re locked. “Tell them the truth. Just do it.”

Flip side: The person who does not own a filter. They were born sans any way of never letting you know exactly what is on their mind, what they think, and how you look. These people scare me. They’re a little like a talking mirror. You don’t want to go up to them and ask how those pants make you look. You already know, anyway. They can be rude, outspoken, sometimes hurtful, but when we want to know the truth, they are who we seek out. I can appreciate a filter-less person sometimes. If anything to go and have an honest talk with. No pretenses. No bull. Just a little of like-it-is. Yeah, the world isn’t full of these people. Remember there is a tiny delineation to being honest and just mean. I’ll take the honest and leave the mean.

Sigh.

That was certainly a deep subject. It was just something on my mind. Driving home tonight I pondered the words that keep me company inside my mind. Words that I’d like to share, but don’t. Words that may surprise some, but we’ll never find out. Or won’t we?

Okay, so enough of the knee-deep thoughts. Or were they head-deep? lol Back to what’s going on. It’s been forever, right? Well, I’m still working on my next series. I am so excited about this series. I’ve learned so much with writing my other ones. I’ll share a bit about what’s going on with this new journey….

This is Lucy…Isn’t she a lovely girl? Lady, whatever. Well, love stinks for Lucy. Or so she will soon find out. But on her way to the grand epiphany, she will meet…Martin. He’s a rich (of course) bachelor and the love interest of her good friend. But does he really feel the same way for this friend? I mean, really?

I get chills just thinking of all the twists and turns they are about to go on. And don’t think they’re hooking up. No, no, no. Oh, didn’t I mention? Lucy’s married. And before anyone rolls their eyes and tags my story for a cheater convention, let me stop you now. There is no cheating going on. Well, not with the people who matter. Look at that, I’ve already said more than enough. You’re really going to have to stay tuned to some more tidbits of where my mind wanders. It’s a crazy place, you know.

Stay lovely, friends! It’s Monday, but that’s okay. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to Friday. 🙂

 

Uncategorized

When breaking up with your stylist…

See this? This was taken today before I went out to the grocery store. Okay, so it isn’t. Not far off…but you get the picture. I haven’t been to my hair stylist since December. Remember December? Christmas, halls decked, before the New Year? Yeah. My bangs have taken the shape of unruly weeds sprouting from my head. I have taken scissors to them, but alas they cover my bottom lip. Again. So back to ‘when breaking up with your stylist…make sure you have another option in the wings. I have none. It’s like I don’t trust anyone else, but I can’t go back to robbing banks before seeing her for my nine week trim. Her price had gotten out of hand, sadly. Like way out of hand. It was either feed the family this Wednesday thru Friday, or get a hair cut. So style has suffered. Whoa is me.

You know how on the show ‘Cheers’, when Norm would come into the bar, everyone would yell, ‘Norm’? Well that appears to be me at the Prime Care Clinic. “Why yes it is me, again. What? You can rattle off my date of birth before I tell you?” Uh, huh…that’s how it’s been this fine winter, melting into spring. Now it appears I have bronchitis. I’m a bit peeved about it, too. I am a HUGE advocate of taking mountains of vitamins, drinking plenty of liquids, getting rest, washing hands, wearing surgical gear to open public doors…you name it. Yet…yet!!! I have had the flu, the strep throat not once, but twice, and now bronchitis. All in the span of 2 months. Lesson learned? Eat the brownies for breakfast, drink that bottle of wine for lunch, and buy that monkey picture that no one will understand, but you love it more than Monet’s, Walk in the Garden. Or whatever Monet painted that everyone knows. For those catching up, I did not buy the monkey holding the camera picture. I was on this kick of saving money, watching my wants and needs and deciphering them best I knew how. Well, little did that help. I waltzed back into the store after only 4 days of willpower and it was gone. Who in the world wanted that ugly picture more than me? *as I beat my head with my fist*

So just do whatever, sickness will find you no matter what fortress of vegetarian slug you’re living under, hoping to cheat death by days or years. Enjoy life! Period.     I will try just as soon as this right lung of mine wants to begin cooperating again and stop being intimidated by all the sludge moving through it.

Well, everyone enjoy this weekend. After the teacher told me upon pick-up of my kids today, to make sure and not bring them next week for spring break, I decided I have to find alternative plans for them. May the good times begin…and may Monday not find them in my office as I begin the work week. 🙂

Uncategorized

‘I hope you don’t die tonight’

This is one of the nicest things my youngest son has told me in awhile. Isn’t that crazy? Have I told you this story? About my up and down life with him? I dedicated my latest book to him and he was both amazed and skeptical that I did. haha  He started out so, so cuddly. Well actually he came from the womb a very angry looking child. I had to change the name we picked for him because it was too sweet. He appeared a bit rough around the edges. But boy was he a snuggler. So much in fact that when he was about two years old, he questioned why my husband shared our bed and tried kicking him out. Throughout his younger days, he maintained this bizarre story that he was raised by aliens and brought here on a ship. Like I couldn’t make this stuff up. We actually got worried. Grandparents worried. They would ask if I was told the same recollection about his days before earth. yeah.

Anyway, time passes and he turns five and decides he doesn’t like me. As if I’d grown twelve horns that only he could see. Eventually his heart grew cold toward me. He wouldn’t let me sit near him, look at him…it was awful. He was the last, so it wasn’t as if he were jealous that someone else was taking his place. He just didn’t like me anymore. I would go back and forth from leaving him alone, hurt from his actions, and to keeping resolve that this would pass and I would remain his constant…always there when he was ready. Some days were harder than others. He actually mumbled hateful things to me. FOR NO GOOD REASON.

Fast forward to tonight. It has taken quite awhile to remain a constant, but as he was saying goodnight, he remarked that it was possibleI could die while he slept. Okay. I rolled my eyes and said, ‘I guess I could’. Then he looked at me with those light brown eyes with five freckles marking the bridge of his nose and said, ‘I hope you don’t die tonight’. Be still my heart. My little boy cares if I live or die. Improvement. Finally. 🙂

I’ve been writing….

Okay, that’s weird. But I’m keeping it. Anyway, I’m writing, and it feels so good. I’m in the head of this woman, Lucy. ‘Woman’ sounds so much older than what she is. She’s early thirties. I really like her. She doesn’t appear to be messed up, but as her writer would have it…she is. It’s headed into a series, I believe. One book cannot begin and end her. I’m so excited about it. I have to be careful because so much of my time can be consumed by a new project. I try my best to keep structure to my writing times. I can make no promises of not thinking about it every second of washing dishes, driving my kids to school, and staring ahead at the dinner table. 🙂 I’ll post an unedited scene in my next post. This lady is going to be fun!! And messy…did I mention messy?

Until next post!

 

Uncategorized

Heartbroken on Valentine’s Day

We all know that Valentine’s Day and me aren’t friends. Haven’t been for years. It just always turned out to be a crap day. Even when I did have a legitimate Valentine. It’s like Cupid circles my head and shoots flaming darts. But this one…this day started out fine. I finally remembered the cookies for my daughter’s school party. The teachers have only been after me all week. Yesterday they stapled a reminder…stapled! a reminder to her backpack. Then left another note inside her binder. I get it! Cookies. Anyway, I remembered. Then I set out and got everyone close to me a valentine, some fashion of a sweet, and a little $5 nothing. But something, really. I got my daughter a musical on DVD, my son these beans he collects. (They have magnets inside). And yada, yada, yada. I went in late to work, scored a free lunch, and went home to have a wonderful dinner made for yours truly. Whew, I made it. Then a few things happened, or as we know it, Cupid shot the first flame. First, my daughter confided that everyone in her homeroom got a carnation, some even 2 or 3, and she was the ONLY one who got nothing. None. Who does this? Why can’t the teacher read on the sheet who is getting one, have extras, and make sure no one leaves the room without one? Nope. So there my little girl sported around all day without a flower. She said she seriously could have cared less. Right. But alas, there is NOTHING I can do to right that wrong. Valentine’s Day is going to become one less rocking day to her, as well. Then my littlest boy comes to me and hands me 3 Valentine’s cards he received. 3. Not one of those homemade shoe boxes you used to make to hold the 20 that would come, but 3. He’s in the 5th grade, so you’re not asked to exchange them. In fact, they didn’t even send out a sheet with a list of names. And he didn’t want to give any–he’s a boy. And so it hit me. Hard. This is his last year in elementary school. The last time it will even be an option. (let me wipe the tears as I continue to write). My kids are growing up too fast. Way too fast. Said daughter will get her driver’s permit next month. Where does this leave me? I’ll tell you where. In a fetal position, crying my eyes out, surrounded by scrap books of all my little babies. Is this what empty nest feels like? Aren’t we supposed to be waiting until they fly out?        Nope.

I think I need to give serious thought to admitting I can’t live here anymore. For health reasons of not tolerating the cold, I must leave. I must find a place closer to the sun, with a dash of salt water, and lots of warm air. Like lots. It’s getting worse the older I become. Scratching ice off my windshield each morning, wearing layers like an onion, and practically sitting on a space heater at my desk is getting old. Way old. What happened to global warming? When is it happening? I can take a month of cold. Tops. After Christmas it needs to snap back to a cool spring of 6 months. Why can’t this be done? For crying out loud.

Oh yeah, I suffered through strep throat last week. Um, don’t ever want to do that again. Luckily no one caught it. I stayed in bed for 3 days. So unlike me. Even my bones were crying to stand up again. It was awful. This is what it felt like when I swallowed.No joke.

I’m gearing up for my book release, and writing my next book at the same time. It’s amazing how I can catch such a tailwind of writing, then sit down for a second and wonder, “where is this thing going?” And that my friend is the intercom calling for WRITER’S BLOCK. Never ask yourself where this is going. Just drive. The story will find its destination just fine. So, I’m off to not ask myself any questions, not ponder how my littles are growing up, and not thinking twice about adding another pair of socks or sweater to my already 2 layers. Peace out and have a great weekend!