Updated WC: 3282. Good day!
Word Count: 2866. Time to stop for dinner, and I'm on chapter 6:)
Today is my baby sister's birthday.
I haven't seen her since Christmas 2004, because she lives so far away. Until recently, she was up in the arctic circle, working with the First Nation population in Pangnirtung, Nunavut, dealing with domestic issues and substance abuse. Not to mention polar bear sightings, freezing cold temperatures, and listening to her children speaking Inuit at daycare. In fact, I have a niece I've not even met, since she turned 2 in August.
All that is about to change; she has relocated to Vancouver, British Columbia, and they are adapting to the warmer climate. When she last lived in BC, I saw her once a year. We would travel up to see her. She and her husband would meet us halfway in Colorado. Or, she would travel to our parents' home. So while I was thrilled to announce I had a sibling up in the arctic, I've had to admit a feeling I never thought I'd ever have...I miss her.
Growing up, she was the baby sister who read my diary; pestered me non-stop; asked annoying questions to the boys I liked; and tried to convince me I was adopted (she and our parents have brown hair and eyes; I'm blonde and blue-eyed!). She and I fought constantly; her mouth flapped non-stop, and if I wanted to talk, I had to severely interrupt her or slug her in order to gain attention.
To be fair, she had it a bit rough when she hit the 'tween' years. She had to deal with a sister who was involved in Marching Band, and was dragged every weekend to contests. I was also a source of extreme embarrassment to her, having exhibited anti-social behavior, and she was ridiculed by association. She found a talent for playing the drums, and was the only female percussionist in her section. We laugh about it now, but if we'd known 'sexual harassment' was the term, she'd have been the Anita Hill of her Jr. High...but no...that kind of treatment you dealt with in silence.
I left and went to college, and she blossomed on the swim team. She later joined me at Ball State, and we had lunch together once a week. She ran for a spot on the Student Senate; I campaigned for her heavily. And even arranged for a pizza to be sent to her room, win or lose (she won!).
When I moved into my first apartment, she enjoyed the day I 'kidnapped' her and spent the day with her. She left for the London Center, and I made sure a letter was waiting for her when she arrived. She was supportive of me when a disastrous relationship had me admitting defeat and moving out on the spur of the moment. And later, she stood by my side as I married my husband.
She showed up with a balloon when my oldest son was born. She entered the Peace Corps after graduation and spent 2 years in Ecuador, sending home wonderful gifts...blow guns, darts, spears, stuffed macaws, and alpaca clothing. And I still have all her letters, especially the one where she describes the guinea pig she was served, and the proper way to eat it!
Our grandmother was dying when she arrived home after her tour, and settled in the same town. When grandma died, she inherited the furniture. And she also was thrilled to meet her new niece, born while she was out of the country. Restless after several months, she decided to try something new, and applied to the Japanese Exchange Training (JET) program, and asked me for help in writing her cover letter. I take great pride in knowing that although the words had been rearranged, or paragraphs moved, her opening statement and beginning paragraph stayed the same. Result? My brilliant words got her into the program and moved her around the world again! Yes, we get along well when she's several thousand miles away, ha ha:)
Seriously, though, without my help, would she have met the man she's been happily married to for 10, nearly 11 years?
I'll admit, she's strong-willed, and has definite opinions which she openly expresses. And the word 'compromise' has finally entered her vocabulary. Yes, we have a tendency to butt heads if left alone for more than a couple hours or days. But she's my sister, and I love her.
Happy birthday, Wendy.
Eat some cake for me:)
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Saturday, October 6, 2007
My Non-Winning Entry:)
I entered a contest in Writer's Digest last winter. And sadly, I didn't win. Hopefully, when the article is published in the next issue (or it may already be out...haven't received my copy yet!), I'll get an 'honerable mention'?
Enjoy:)
“Mom, what’s for dinner?”
“Food.”
“When are you going to fix it?”
“Soon.”
“Mom! I’m hungry!”
“Let me finish this thought…give me five minutes.”
“Mom! Dad’s fixing dinner. Are you coming?”
“Yeah…I’ll be right there…”
“Mom…we’re eating…”
“Mom? Dad left a plate for you in the microwave.”
“Good night Mom.”
Finally. I have finished my brainstorm, and I’ve not checked any homework, asked about my children’s day, or even fixed or eaten dinner. I’m a lousy mother.
Or am I? After all, these brainstorms where I lock myself in a room and write nonstop don’t occur very often. Maybe once a year. Or, once every six months. But then, I’m a published author with her first book in print, readers eager for the second, and currently working on the eighth book in the series.
I learned early, after the birth of my two older children, to carry a notebook and pen everywhere I go. And I do mean everywhere. I write while in doctor and dentists waiting rooms. I write at sports practices and Boy Scout meetings. I’ve gotten brainstorms in the middle of church services, and covered my church bulletin with notes. I’ve been known to be found in the middle of the night, sitting at the kitchen table, oblivious to the fact the dog needs to be let outside. My husband lives in fear of being trapped in the bathroom while I read him pages of description and dialogue; conversations between characters he could care less about, except for the fact that one day those pages could mean a royalty check is due to come in the mail.
And since the birth of my unexpected blessing three years ago, not to mention relocating to a new home in a new town, I’m finding it hard to carve out time to work on my latest idea Maybe once a week, when my husband leaves for work at three in the morning? Or the weekends, perhaps, when he’s here to keep a close eye on our active toddler? Or should I just tough it out until my child’s name makes it to the top of the waiting list at one of the few daycares in this town?
I know, all too well, that one day the urge to write will strike with a vengeance, and my family will have to fend for themselves until the storm blows over, and my future best-seller is ready for its first rewrite. So until that time, I can be found once a week in the Burger King Playscape, sipping my iced tea and scribbling furiously into my notebook, hoping I’ll be able to read my own handwriting when I get the time to type it into the computer.
“Mom? When you finally come to the end your brainstorm, can I use the computer?”
“Sure honey. Just give me five minutes.”
Or it may be five hours. But she’s twelve. And there’s always tomorrow.
Enjoy:)
“Mom, what’s for dinner?”
“Food.”
“When are you going to fix it?”
“Soon.”
“Mom! I’m hungry!”
“Let me finish this thought…give me five minutes.”
“Mom! Dad’s fixing dinner. Are you coming?”
“Yeah…I’ll be right there…”
“Mom…we’re eating…”
“Mom? Dad left a plate for you in the microwave.”
“Good night Mom.”
Finally. I have finished my brainstorm, and I’ve not checked any homework, asked about my children’s day, or even fixed or eaten dinner. I’m a lousy mother.
Or am I? After all, these brainstorms where I lock myself in a room and write nonstop don’t occur very often. Maybe once a year. Or, once every six months. But then, I’m a published author with her first book in print, readers eager for the second, and currently working on the eighth book in the series.
I learned early, after the birth of my two older children, to carry a notebook and pen everywhere I go. And I do mean everywhere. I write while in doctor and dentists waiting rooms. I write at sports practices and Boy Scout meetings. I’ve gotten brainstorms in the middle of church services, and covered my church bulletin with notes. I’ve been known to be found in the middle of the night, sitting at the kitchen table, oblivious to the fact the dog needs to be let outside. My husband lives in fear of being trapped in the bathroom while I read him pages of description and dialogue; conversations between characters he could care less about, except for the fact that one day those pages could mean a royalty check is due to come in the mail.
And since the birth of my unexpected blessing three years ago, not to mention relocating to a new home in a new town, I’m finding it hard to carve out time to work on my latest idea Maybe once a week, when my husband leaves for work at three in the morning? Or the weekends, perhaps, when he’s here to keep a close eye on our active toddler? Or should I just tough it out until my child’s name makes it to the top of the waiting list at one of the few daycares in this town?
I know, all too well, that one day the urge to write will strike with a vengeance, and my family will have to fend for themselves until the storm blows over, and my future best-seller is ready for its first rewrite. So until that time, I can be found once a week in the Burger King Playscape, sipping my iced tea and scribbling furiously into my notebook, hoping I’ll be able to read my own handwriting when I get the time to type it into the computer.
“Mom? When you finally come to the end your brainstorm, can I use the computer?”
“Sure honey. Just give me five minutes.”
Or it may be five hours. But she’s twelve. And there’s always tomorrow.
Friday, October 5, 2007
E-BookBandwagon
I'll admit; I'm old-school when it comes to books. I like to hold them in my hand. I love to work book signings, and place something tangible in my reader's hands, and gratefully scrawl my name inside, with a short note. And after sending wave after wave of submissions and getting nowhere, I've decided to try something new.
About two years ago, my hubby was watching Montel Williams, and the subject was new companies that had rocketed to the top of the list of successful companies. One of these owners was Jade Black, founder of Ellora's Cave E-books. D yelled at me to come quick; this was something I had to see. I watched the interview, took note of the website, and thought about e-books.
My intial questions were simple: How do I submit a manuscript? What were the guidelines? My books were slightly tamer in the bedroom scenes...would they accept my work? And what happens if the computer crashes? I'd lose everything I'd downloaded! No...I'd stick with the print books. I did send away for my free newsletter, and promptly put it out of my mind.
Until several weeks later...my newsletters arrived, and sparked my imagination. Also, the stores were getting ready for Christmas, and I happened to pass an electronic store advertising....iPods for E-books! That started the wheels turning...
I went back to the EC site, and read 2 excerpts I found intriguing. Hubby agreed to let me buy them; it was less than $6 for both. We had even bought some writable CDs at the time, and he suggested I save both on the CDs. And so I read my 1st e-books. And kept rereading. I think I read one of them every day for a week! It disappointed me; left me hanging. I wanted to know more about what was going to happen next, after the initial sexual attraction was established! But being the thick-skulled person that I am, the final time I read it showed me that yes, the story wasn't about the relationship and how they learned to live with eachother, or even get married...it was the fact they were from different worlds, and it was about her acceptance of his unusual world, and could she live with that?
The second one was more typical...it was contemporary, and more closely to what I normally read. And it had the HEA (happily ever after) ending I liked. And after seeing that yes, I am willing to read a computer screen instead of holding it in my hand, and if the iPod for E-books would become a little more affordable, I just might jump ship and forget about trying to get my series into a traditional NY publishing company. Especially when I read in trade magazines they were all downsizing, and being very picky about who they published!
A year later, EC began a sister company,Cerridwen Press, and they offer an option. You can download the books, or buy them in print. Again, I went to the site, found one that sparked my interest, and the next time I was in town, went to the Barnes and Noble and ordered it. A week later, I was engrossed in it, loved it, and contacted the author to let her know how much I'd enjoyed it. We emailed back and forth; I was picking her brain...and decided maybe CP was the place for my series. But I was still undecided.
During the past several months, I've had the privilege of corresponding with several authors, all of whom have written e-books. I've downloaded several, and even though I went with a better POD (print on demand) company for my 2nd book, and have been very happy with the process, I have decided to submit my 3rd one to CP and see if they'll accept my work. I have received encouragement, praise, and best of all, I've more reading material and hubby doesn't complain about tripping over my 'damn books'.
If you're wanting to read some explicit material, with good plotlines and enter some different worlds, check out these authors and titles:
Anny Cook: Everthing Lovers Can Know (EC); Dancer's Delight (CP)
Amarinda Jones/Janet Davies (writes under both names): Because I Can;Thief of Mine (and others...these are two off the top of my head!)
Bronwyn Green: I've Put a Spell on You (EC)
Kelly Kirch: Marriage Mart (Coming in December from CP)
Mary Winters: Water Lust (first e-book I ever read...EC)
Lauren Dane: Sudden Desire ( 2nd one I read...EC)
TL Gray: The World According to Ali (CP)
Kelly posted a wonderful essay on the subject of e-books vs print books. As she so eloquently stated, "I don't care if people recognize me, it's a longshot anyway. I do want the money, which is better with Epubs. I think it's the respect..." and she also pointed out, "Epub writers work just as hard at their craft as NY pubbed. In fact, harder. We are responsible for our own promo work and brand name. We must know the business and what sells and we must communicate well with the Editor..." and "We are held to a higher standard..."
Amen, Kelly! In fact, go to her blog and read the whole thing before I completely post most of it! http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ I think she posted it on Tuesday??
I began working on an EC submission a little over a year ago. As a mother with teenagers and a small child, I work on it in secret, as anything remotely having to do with romance and sex brings gagging noises from my teenagers. I recently came across it, but with this new WIP that has completely taken over my creative brain, who knows when I'll get back to it. And as always, I'll keep you updated on titles, releases, and the publishes when my work finds a home!
About two years ago, my hubby was watching Montel Williams, and the subject was new companies that had rocketed to the top of the list of successful companies. One of these owners was Jade Black, founder of Ellora's Cave E-books. D yelled at me to come quick; this was something I had to see. I watched the interview, took note of the website, and thought about e-books.
My intial questions were simple: How do I submit a manuscript? What were the guidelines? My books were slightly tamer in the bedroom scenes...would they accept my work? And what happens if the computer crashes? I'd lose everything I'd downloaded! No...I'd stick with the print books. I did send away for my free newsletter, and promptly put it out of my mind.
Until several weeks later...my newsletters arrived, and sparked my imagination. Also, the stores were getting ready for Christmas, and I happened to pass an electronic store advertising....iPods for E-books! That started the wheels turning...
I went back to the EC site, and read 2 excerpts I found intriguing. Hubby agreed to let me buy them; it was less than $6 for both. We had even bought some writable CDs at the time, and he suggested I save both on the CDs. And so I read my 1st e-books. And kept rereading. I think I read one of them every day for a week! It disappointed me; left me hanging. I wanted to know more about what was going to happen next, after the initial sexual attraction was established! But being the thick-skulled person that I am, the final time I read it showed me that yes, the story wasn't about the relationship and how they learned to live with eachother, or even get married...it was the fact they were from different worlds, and it was about her acceptance of his unusual world, and could she live with that?
The second one was more typical...it was contemporary, and more closely to what I normally read. And it had the HEA (happily ever after) ending I liked. And after seeing that yes, I am willing to read a computer screen instead of holding it in my hand, and if the iPod for E-books would become a little more affordable, I just might jump ship and forget about trying to get my series into a traditional NY publishing company. Especially when I read in trade magazines they were all downsizing, and being very picky about who they published!
A year later, EC began a sister company,Cerridwen Press, and they offer an option. You can download the books, or buy them in print. Again, I went to the site, found one that sparked my interest, and the next time I was in town, went to the Barnes and Noble and ordered it. A week later, I was engrossed in it, loved it, and contacted the author to let her know how much I'd enjoyed it. We emailed back and forth; I was picking her brain...and decided maybe CP was the place for my series. But I was still undecided.
During the past several months, I've had the privilege of corresponding with several authors, all of whom have written e-books. I've downloaded several, and even though I went with a better POD (print on demand) company for my 2nd book, and have been very happy with the process, I have decided to submit my 3rd one to CP and see if they'll accept my work. I have received encouragement, praise, and best of all, I've more reading material and hubby doesn't complain about tripping over my 'damn books'.
If you're wanting to read some explicit material, with good plotlines and enter some different worlds, check out these authors and titles:
Anny Cook: Everthing Lovers Can Know (EC); Dancer's Delight (CP)
Amarinda Jones/Janet Davies (writes under both names): Because I Can;Thief of Mine (and others...these are two off the top of my head!)
Bronwyn Green: I've Put a Spell on You (EC)
Kelly Kirch: Marriage Mart (Coming in December from CP)
Mary Winters: Water Lust (first e-book I ever read...EC)
Lauren Dane: Sudden Desire ( 2nd one I read...EC)
TL Gray: The World According to Ali (CP)
Kelly posted a wonderful essay on the subject of e-books vs print books. As she so eloquently stated, "I don't care if people recognize me, it's a longshot anyway. I do want the money, which is better with Epubs. I think it's the respect..." and she also pointed out, "Epub writers work just as hard at their craft as NY pubbed. In fact, harder. We are responsible for our own promo work and brand name. We must know the business and what sells and we must communicate well with the Editor..." and "We are held to a higher standard..."
Amen, Kelly! In fact, go to her blog and read the whole thing before I completely post most of it! http://www.kkirch.blogspot.com/ I think she posted it on Tuesday??
I began working on an EC submission a little over a year ago. As a mother with teenagers and a small child, I work on it in secret, as anything remotely having to do with romance and sex brings gagging noises from my teenagers. I recently came across it, but with this new WIP that has completely taken over my creative brain, who knows when I'll get back to it. And as always, I'll keep you updated on titles, releases, and the publishes when my work finds a home!
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Odds and Ends
Word Count: 931. Told you it would be small!
Just a short post today...you've heard of tennis elbow? I have 'computer mouse shoulder', or something like that. My surfing the web and typing nearly nonstop all week has caused a strange pain from my shoulder to collarbone...yeah, you could say this wip has been a pain in the neck, ha ha:) I've slowed down...maybe it's time to take a step back, get away from it for a day or two and actually get some chores done. The laundry's piling up, and yesterday I actually forgot to dry my son's swim suit and towel...I remembered 5 minutes before practice it was still lying in a molding heap in the chute.
Granted, the kid could dry his own damn swim suit and towel and let his mother work...but no, he and the others who live in this house consider the laundry 'Mom's Job'.
And then there's my daughter. When she was in the 6th grade, her Reading/English class wrote their own books and sent them off to be published. Hers, titled "Frisky", is about a dog (her favorite animal) and his antics when he's separated from his family. So here's a picture of her book, and it's been met with great reviews from the toddler set...mainly her younger brother, and two small cousins. It's not available anymore; we had to purchase copies last year, but it's a start, Sara! You beat your mom's goal...mine was originally to be published by 20...and then 30...and succeeded before 40. And she does it at age 12. The same age I was hoping to see one of my short stories in "Jack and Jill" magazine...don't know it the story was rejected, or if we never sent it off. Maybe one day I'll dust off my earlier work and put them together for that "Molly's Fairy Tales" which I dreamed of so many years ago....
I've got a meeting at the university today, to discuss my options for completing my degree. And with the other things I need to do around here, the word count may be rather low. We'll just see what happens!
Just a short post today...you've heard of tennis elbow? I have 'computer mouse shoulder', or something like that. My surfing the web and typing nearly nonstop all week has caused a strange pain from my shoulder to collarbone...yeah, you could say this wip has been a pain in the neck, ha ha:) I've slowed down...maybe it's time to take a step back, get away from it for a day or two and actually get some chores done. The laundry's piling up, and yesterday I actually forgot to dry my son's swim suit and towel...I remembered 5 minutes before practice it was still lying in a molding heap in the chute.
Granted, the kid could dry his own damn swim suit and towel and let his mother work...but no, he and the others who live in this house consider the laundry 'Mom's Job'.
And then there's my daughter. When she was in the 6th grade, her Reading/English class wrote their own books and sent them off to be published. Hers, titled "Frisky", is about a dog (her favorite animal) and his antics when he's separated from his family. So here's a picture of her book, and it's been met with great reviews from the toddler set...mainly her younger brother, and two small cousins. It's not available anymore; we had to purchase copies last year, but it's a start, Sara! You beat your mom's goal...mine was originally to be published by 20...and then 30...and succeeded before 40. And she does it at age 12. The same age I was hoping to see one of my short stories in "Jack and Jill" magazine...don't know it the story was rejected, or if we never sent it off. Maybe one day I'll dust off my earlier work and put them together for that "Molly's Fairy Tales" which I dreamed of so many years ago....
I've got a meeting at the university today, to discuss my options for completing my degree. And with the other things I need to do around here, the word count may be rather low. We'll just see what happens!
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
MIddle Children
10:00-WC: 2589. I'm tired and want to go to bed. Hopefully, I'll be able to recapture the train again in the morning!
4:15-Word Count: 1750. Still rolling along:)
For years, I'd both heard about and seen the 'middle child syndrome'...a close neighbor of ours had three children, all spaced roughly 2 years apart. The oldest was my age and your typical overachiever; all-around athlete, top grades, and Mr. Personality. (There's a whole blog entry by itself...one of these days I tell you about how living next to him 'ruined' my future dating choices, ha ha!) The middle one was content to drift along, do his own thing, and had the misfortune of drawing some of the same teachers in school and was forever being compared to his (cough) brilliant older brother. And then the youngest entered the scene. Conscientious, inherited her father's artistic ability, and also a good student. The middle child was caught. Always being held up to his older brother's example, and now the sister was being praised by teachers breathing a sigh of relief that the third sibling was not going to be a discipline problem, and was turning out like the first one!
Having witnessed this and hearing the moans and groans over the rebellious middle child, I resolved to never have an odd number of children. Imagine my surprise, then, when after 10 years had passed, and oops! Guess what? Here comes child #3! I agonized; I had long conversations with people, and was reassurred my daughter would not get caught in that trap if I worked at it.
Having said that, another close friend has 3 kids, and today is their middle child's birthday. I have lovingly posted the Chi-Chi's version of Happy Birthday on their family's website for the older one, whom I took care of the first 10 months of his life, and more recently, their own 'caboose', who just turned 2 last month. Now it's Kevin's turn...do I continue to send in the same song, and give equal treatment? Naw...I think I'll do something special, to celebrate his status as a newly dubbed 'tween'. His creative honorary Aunt Molly has written the following.
This one's for you, Kevin! Enjoy your day:)
Kevin Nicholas, age 12!!
Kevin, oh Kevin, please don't be blue
I only met you twice; the first you were two...
I've got a sweet picture of you and my Sara
Playing with trucks or books, it really doesn't matter!
Fast forward ten years; you've grown up quite well
From Ozarks to tropical, I think that it's swell
That you live in my summer place; I want to come visit
And see Ft. Desoto, Tiki Gardens...I miss it!
Now you are twelve, and it's gonna be rough;
Voice changes, zits, middle school, but you are tough...
Just be your own boy; don't let Tom put you down;
Be a hero for Stevie, and your parents won't frown!
(cue the music!)
Happy happy happy birthday
Happy happy happy birthday
Happy happy happy birthday
To you, to you, to you, OLE'
(in case you felt left out, LOL!)
Love you, Kevin...Hope to see you again soon!
4:15-Word Count: 1750. Still rolling along:)
For years, I'd both heard about and seen the 'middle child syndrome'...a close neighbor of ours had three children, all spaced roughly 2 years apart. The oldest was my age and your typical overachiever; all-around athlete, top grades, and Mr. Personality. (There's a whole blog entry by itself...one of these days I tell you about how living next to him 'ruined' my future dating choices, ha ha!) The middle one was content to drift along, do his own thing, and had the misfortune of drawing some of the same teachers in school and was forever being compared to his (cough) brilliant older brother. And then the youngest entered the scene. Conscientious, inherited her father's artistic ability, and also a good student. The middle child was caught. Always being held up to his older brother's example, and now the sister was being praised by teachers breathing a sigh of relief that the third sibling was not going to be a discipline problem, and was turning out like the first one!
Having witnessed this and hearing the moans and groans over the rebellious middle child, I resolved to never have an odd number of children. Imagine my surprise, then, when after 10 years had passed, and oops! Guess what? Here comes child #3! I agonized; I had long conversations with people, and was reassurred my daughter would not get caught in that trap if I worked at it.
Having said that, another close friend has 3 kids, and today is their middle child's birthday. I have lovingly posted the Chi-Chi's version of Happy Birthday on their family's website for the older one, whom I took care of the first 10 months of his life, and more recently, their own 'caboose', who just turned 2 last month. Now it's Kevin's turn...do I continue to send in the same song, and give equal treatment? Naw...I think I'll do something special, to celebrate his status as a newly dubbed 'tween'. His creative honorary Aunt Molly has written the following.
This one's for you, Kevin! Enjoy your day:)
Kevin Nicholas, age 12!!
Kevin, oh Kevin, please don't be blue
I only met you twice; the first you were two...
I've got a sweet picture of you and my Sara
Playing with trucks or books, it really doesn't matter!
Fast forward ten years; you've grown up quite well
From Ozarks to tropical, I think that it's swell
That you live in my summer place; I want to come visit
And see Ft. Desoto, Tiki Gardens...I miss it!
Now you are twelve, and it's gonna be rough;
Voice changes, zits, middle school, but you are tough...
Just be your own boy; don't let Tom put you down;
Be a hero for Stevie, and your parents won't frown!
(cue the music!)
Happy happy happy birthday
Happy happy happy birthday
Happy happy happy birthday
To you, to you, to you, OLE'
(in case you felt left out, LOL!)
Love you, Kevin...Hope to see you again soon!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Work In Progress...
Word Count: 1977. A very good year, ha ha:) The year I discovered how to put pen to paper and create a new world! I think I'm at the end of chapter 5...who knows...
Third time's the charm, right? This is my 3rd attempt to post this!
Thought I'd do something a little different this morning. I've been questioned about this storyline flowing from my fingertips that has even had me waking up in the morning, certain phrases and dialogue running through my brain. So here's a brief description of my cast of characters, and a rather lengthy excerpt. Enjoy:)
Angela Clayburn: Mid-thirties, reddish-blonde hair, green eyes. Co-owner of an artsy gift shop and talented jewelry designer. She's just received news that her HS ex-boyfriend as been released from prison. He served 15 years for breaking into her parents' home, stealing furniture and trying to climb into bed with her, all done while high on drugs. She's afraid of what will happen once he's back in town, and at the same time, she wonders if he's changed.
“What am I going to do?” she asked quietly. “How am I going to explain this to Brad?”
“You’ve never told him? Angie…”
“We’ve only been together for a year. Steve’s last stunt was five years ago, and besides, Brad’s only lived here for nearly two. So of course he doesn’t know! And it’s something that’s never come up.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “And I told Aaron not to tell him.” Her brother worked for the same company that had hired Brad, but in a different department. “And of course, Mom and Dad won’t say anything…” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
Her parents had never dealt well with the aftermath of the trial, and her mother had had to be hospitalized after each “Steve” headline appearance. Angie’s father had finally taken her to Florida, away from the public scrutiny. But Angie had felt abandoned, and with Aaron’s encouragement, channeled her energy into pursuing her dream of making jewelry. And once she and Diana had pooled their resources, everything had fallen into place. It was Diana who suggested showcasing local artisans, but Angie had been the one who made the initial contacts. And as word flew throughout the local art world, everyone benefited. Tourists dropped in to buy signed artwork or commission Angie for special jewelry pieces. Diana’s clients spanned the entire county, and every once in a while, a particular artist’s work would be bought or spotlighted in a newly decorated home.
Julie’s voice interrupted her reverie. “You need to tell him, sweetie. Brad’s a good man; he’ll stand behind you, you’ll see.”
Angie sighed, getting up to get another Splenda packet from the kitchen. Slowly, she sat down, stirring it into the now-lukewarm tea with a teaspoon.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I just don’t know.
Across town, another drama was playing out. Steve Blumenthal paced the length of his younger brother’s living room, chain-smoking and gesturing wildly.
“Damn it Josh! I’ve served my time; paid restitution; been clean for nearly fifteen fucking years; I’m trying to get on with my life…and what happens the minute I’m back in town? That scrawny-assed manager at the café downtown refuses to let me in his goddamned restaurant!” He paused to angrily light another cigarette. “If there’s one thing I learned in the slammer, it was how to be treated fairly. I ought to sue his ass for discrimination!”
“Maybe Angie was in there,” Josh suggested wearily. “Her shop’s down a few blocks…maybe he thought he was protecting her.”
Steve stopped in front of the window overlooking the swimming pool, the cigarette halfway to his mouth. Carefully, he sank into the nearest chair and ran his free hand through his blonde crew cut.
“I didn’t think of that,” he muttered. “You told me she’d opened her own business and was downtown. You’ve seen her; how’s she doing?”
Joshua winced. “Look, man. Don’t torture yourself. We need to figure out what you’re going to do next.”
“What I’m going to do,” Steve said firmly, crushing out the cigarette. “Is go see her, talk to her…God, she’s been on my mind for fifteen years! I want to know why the hell they charged me with attempted rape, for Christ’s sake! I loved her…and she loved me. So why the fucking rape charge?”
Josh groaned, covering his green eyes. As far as he was concerned, his older brother hadn’t changed. Every month for the entire time Steve had been incarcerated, he had insisted he had been falsely accused on the rape count.
“Steve, listen to me. I’ve told you; the lawyers told you; hell, even Angie herself admitted you were trying to rip off her clothes! Yeah, nothing happened,” Josh leaned forward when Steve opened his mouth. “That’s why it’s called attempted! Good Lord, get that through your fucking head! I’m tired of explaining this to you every goddamned time!” He stood up, green eyes blazing and breath coming in pants. “I said you could stay here. You’ve got your degree; the law says you’re a free man now. So get on with your life! Angie’s got a new man in her life, dude…she’s moved on! And so should you.” Josh held his little brother’s gaze for a moment, seeing a flicker of defeat, then more defiance. “Fuck it. I’m going back to work. When do you meet with your parole officer?”
“Tomorrow.” Steve lit another cigarette. “I won’t do anything more today, I promise. Go on back to work; I’ll fix dinner tonight. Thanks for picking me up and letting me stay.”
Josh looked at him, then shook his dark head and left the room. He thought about calling Angie, but decided against it. She’s probably already seen the papers, he reasoned. Hopefully, that pig-headed brother of mine will lay low for a while! He sighed, then realized he was driving toward Angie’s store, the opposite direction from his mechanic’s job at the Ford Dealership. He admitted defeat and found a parking spot. But the store was closed. Josh sighed again and went on to work.
Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Steve had no intention of just sitting around. He grabbed the phone book and looked up his ex-girlfriend’s phone number and address. He thought about calling, then decided he’d rather confront her face-to-face. He took note of the address; shit. He’d have to get transportation. And he couldn’t do that until he met with his parole officer. Steve slammed the yellow phone book shut and lit another cigarette, planning what he was going to say when he saw his lost love.
Snap! Brad’s digital camera clicked as the car snaked along Highway 36.
“I just can’t get over the scenery out here,” he enthused, deleting a few blurry shots. “That elk back there, just at the side of the road, was impressive!”
“And that was a small one,” the older man chuckled. Gavin had lived his entire life in Colorado, and it never ceased to amaze him how the tourists reacted to the wildlife. “Come back in June, and you’ll see the bighorn sheep.”
“Why June?”
“They’re still up in the mountains. For some reason, mid-June they all come down to the lower elevations in the park, near the entrance. Can’t damn near get up to the Falls because everyone’s parked alongside the road.” Gavin slowed for another turn. “There’s a coyote. See him?”
Brad couldn’t locate the small animal.
“That’s okay. You’ll see a lot of them in the park.”
Some time later, they were passing Nicky’s Resort. “Best Prime Rib, hands down,” Gavin informed him. “We’ll go there tonight.” He drove on into Estes Park, and laughed when Brad gawked at the huge ark. “Noah’s Ark. It’s a Christian Bookstore.” He found a place to park beside a strip mall and beckoned to Brad to follow him. “I thought you might like to stretch your legs a bit, and get something to eat. I know I don’t have the cabin stocked yet.”
An hour later, they were strolling through the shops. Brad’s eyes sought out the woodworker’s store, and was surprised to see a young woman behind the counter. At the sound of the clanging bell above the door, her head snapped up from the ledger she was scanning.
“Did I leave the door open? I’m sorry…we’re closed,” she said brusquely.
“I’m sorry…I’m only going to be here until tomorrow,” he smiled. “I just wanted to have a look around, if that’s okay.” Without waiting for an answer, he entered and began to appraise the furniture against the wall.
“I can’t sell you anything,” the girl replied, sounding irritated. “I’m sorry you can’t stay in town longer, but I really should lock the door before anyone else wanders in.” She put down the ledger and moved to intercept him before he moved farther into the shop.
Brad changed course and headed toward the counter. He picked up the catalogue and flipped through it, noting the good quality depicted. “Can I take this with me?”
She tried to take it from him, but he resisted. Her blue eyes turned smoky. “I told you, we’re closed,” she said, her teeth clenched.
Brad cocked an eyebrow at her. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a thick French braid, and the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. “Just let me take this with me, and I’ll order something when I get home,” he cajoled, turning on his charm.
Fire seemed to shoot from her eyes, but she restrained herself. “Fine,” she snapped. “Take the damn thing. I hope when you call, we’ll have it. I doubt we’ll be able to custom-make something, but you never know.” She ushered him toward the door.
“Tell me, are you as rude to all your customers, or just me?” Brad asked when he’d reached the door. His answer was the door slamming in his face and the sound of the door lock clicking into place. Shaking his head, he continued down the row of shops, buying souvenirs for Angie, his parents, and some friends.
Bob watched as a cloud of dust appeared at the entrance to the trail and relaxed. He’d been stunned when Emma furiously saddled Misty and galloped off without so much as a ‘see you’. He knew better than to follow her, though. After becoming lovers, she had ridden off her anger at her brother, and his presence on the trail had only fueled the rage.boiling up inside of her. Two days later, she had calmed down and welcomed him back in her bed, and asked him not to ever follow her again when she was that angry.
He finished rubbing down his own gelding and when Emma dismounted and led Misty into the barn, he tipped his head at her, but said nothing. Emma mechanically removed the saddle and went about her own rubdown chores. Suddenly, she threw down the currycomb and walked over to him, throwing her arms around his waist and nearly upsetting his footing.
He caught his balance and automatically held her tightly, feeling her stiff muscles begin to soften with his gentle circles. A sob caught him off guard.
“Em?” He asked in surprise. He tipped her chin up and saw the tears pooling in her baby blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” she sighed. “Just hold me.”
He enjoyed her slim form against his hard body; that was the easy part. But what was tearing him up was the racking sobs that shook her body. He shifted his weight, his growing erection getting uncomfortable. God…of all the times…she needed comforting, not proof of his desire! But the contact was unavoidable, and hell, she looked beautiful when she was angry. He bent down to kiss her head and she chose that moment to lift hers. His lips, full and strong, met her soft ones, salted with tears. They clung to one another, each taking the silent comfort offered. Tongues softly entwined, each promising more to come.
Dragging his mouth away reluctantly, Bob gathered her close. “God, Emma!” he whispered fiercely. “I wish I didn’t have another group coming!”
“I know,” she whispered back. “And I’m sorry for running off like that.” She pulled away with a gentle peck at his lips and stepped back, scrubbing at her eyes and cheeks. “I went in to town and ran into Gavin. I told him about Ethan, and he threw me a curve ball.” She picked up the currycomb she’d thrown and resumed her grooming of her horse, unlooping the reins and leading her into the stall.
“What curve ball? And Gavin’s here?” He checked his watch. Twenty minutes until the last batch of riders were due to reappear.
Emma closed the gate to Misty’s stall and gave her a carrot. “He brought some finance wizard who’s always wanted to see the park,” she explained, taking her saddle and putting it on the shelf. She walked over and helped him finish grooming Jester. “And Gavin told him about Ethan and his lousy bookkeeping, so now I have to go meet them for supper and let this…this stranger decipher my idiotic brother’s spending habits!” She stopped to take a breath and raked a hand through her hair, sending several strands flying as they sprang free of the braid. “Why can’t that man just let me handle it?”
Bob led Jester into the stall and slid the gate shut before gathering Emma in his arms again. “He knows you’re overburdened as it is,” he reminded her. “He’s only trying to help…”
“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” she fumed. “He didn’t even ask me! Just said, ‘oh, meet whatever-his-name-is; he’s the answer to all our family problems’…well, I handled them last time, didn’t I? Why does he think I’m incapable? Is it because he still sees me as a twelve-year-old? I’ll show him I’m grown up! I’ll…”
Bob kissed her to silence her and got his lip bitten in the process. “Ow,” he grimaced. “Don’t try to shut me up that way,” she said hotly. “Next time I won’t stop with your lip!” She stalked away, halting at the door. “Here comes the last batch. I think they’re early. I’m going to shower.”
Third time's the charm, right? This is my 3rd attempt to post this!
Thought I'd do something a little different this morning. I've been questioned about this storyline flowing from my fingertips that has even had me waking up in the morning, certain phrases and dialogue running through my brain. So here's a brief description of my cast of characters, and a rather lengthy excerpt. Enjoy:)
Angela Clayburn: Mid-thirties, reddish-blonde hair, green eyes. Co-owner of an artsy gift shop and talented jewelry designer. She's just received news that her HS ex-boyfriend as been released from prison. He served 15 years for breaking into her parents' home, stealing furniture and trying to climb into bed with her, all done while high on drugs. She's afraid of what will happen once he's back in town, and at the same time, she wonders if he's changed.
Steve Blumenthal: Six foot three, ex-HS basketball star, blonde crew-cut hair, blue eyes. Studied Culinary Arts while serving his time, and wants to prove he's turned his life around. He still has feelings for Angie, and wants to see her, to see if their connection is still strong.
Brad Morrison: Six foot five, dark brown hair and eyes, accountant. He's only been in town for 2 years, and has been Angie's boyfriend for less than one. He knows nothing of Angie's past, except knowing something has happened to make her unresponsive to the physical side of their relationship. He travels extensively with his job, and is currently in Estes Park, Colorado, where Fate has just thrown him a curve ball.
Emma Nichols: Twenty-six, five foot four in her cowboy boots, blonde hair and blue eyes. She's the manager of the Happy Trails Riding Stable, located on the Happy Trails ranch. She's burdened by her brother Ethan's drinking and gambling problem, and is concerned his habits are going to cause their family's woodworking business to fold. A good friend of the family has brought a stranger to town, and Emma resents his interference, seeing it as dissatisfaction in her abilities to handle the situation. She is also caught by her awakening feminine side, and doesn't know if what she's feeling is merely lust and gratitude, or the real thing. She certainly doesn't have the same burning desire for her cowboy/ranch hand who's just offered her his heart!
Robert Langly: Mid-thirties, he's in love with his young boss and is wise enought to know when to back off and let life lessons be learned the hard way.
Excerpt:“What am I going to do?” she asked quietly. “How am I going to explain this to Brad?”
“You’ve never told him? Angie…”
“We’ve only been together for a year. Steve’s last stunt was five years ago, and besides, Brad’s only lived here for nearly two. So of course he doesn’t know! And it’s something that’s never come up.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “And I told Aaron not to tell him.” Her brother worked for the same company that had hired Brad, but in a different department. “And of course, Mom and Dad won’t say anything…” Her voice dropped to a whisper.
Her parents had never dealt well with the aftermath of the trial, and her mother had had to be hospitalized after each “Steve” headline appearance. Angie’s father had finally taken her to Florida, away from the public scrutiny. But Angie had felt abandoned, and with Aaron’s encouragement, channeled her energy into pursuing her dream of making jewelry. And once she and Diana had pooled their resources, everything had fallen into place. It was Diana who suggested showcasing local artisans, but Angie had been the one who made the initial contacts. And as word flew throughout the local art world, everyone benefited. Tourists dropped in to buy signed artwork or commission Angie for special jewelry pieces. Diana’s clients spanned the entire county, and every once in a while, a particular artist’s work would be bought or spotlighted in a newly decorated home.
Julie’s voice interrupted her reverie. “You need to tell him, sweetie. Brad’s a good man; he’ll stand behind you, you’ll see.”
Angie sighed, getting up to get another Splenda packet from the kitchen. Slowly, she sat down, stirring it into the now-lukewarm tea with a teaspoon.
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “I just don’t know.
Across town, another drama was playing out. Steve Blumenthal paced the length of his younger brother’s living room, chain-smoking and gesturing wildly.
“Damn it Josh! I’ve served my time; paid restitution; been clean for nearly fifteen fucking years; I’m trying to get on with my life…and what happens the minute I’m back in town? That scrawny-assed manager at the café downtown refuses to let me in his goddamned restaurant!” He paused to angrily light another cigarette. “If there’s one thing I learned in the slammer, it was how to be treated fairly. I ought to sue his ass for discrimination!”
“Maybe Angie was in there,” Josh suggested wearily. “Her shop’s down a few blocks…maybe he thought he was protecting her.”
Steve stopped in front of the window overlooking the swimming pool, the cigarette halfway to his mouth. Carefully, he sank into the nearest chair and ran his free hand through his blonde crew cut.
“I didn’t think of that,” he muttered. “You told me she’d opened her own business and was downtown. You’ve seen her; how’s she doing?”
Joshua winced. “Look, man. Don’t torture yourself. We need to figure out what you’re going to do next.”
“What I’m going to do,” Steve said firmly, crushing out the cigarette. “Is go see her, talk to her…God, she’s been on my mind for fifteen years! I want to know why the hell they charged me with attempted rape, for Christ’s sake! I loved her…and she loved me. So why the fucking rape charge?”
Josh groaned, covering his green eyes. As far as he was concerned, his older brother hadn’t changed. Every month for the entire time Steve had been incarcerated, he had insisted he had been falsely accused on the rape count.
“Steve, listen to me. I’ve told you; the lawyers told you; hell, even Angie herself admitted you were trying to rip off her clothes! Yeah, nothing happened,” Josh leaned forward when Steve opened his mouth. “That’s why it’s called attempted! Good Lord, get that through your fucking head! I’m tired of explaining this to you every goddamned time!” He stood up, green eyes blazing and breath coming in pants. “I said you could stay here. You’ve got your degree; the law says you’re a free man now. So get on with your life! Angie’s got a new man in her life, dude…she’s moved on! And so should you.” Josh held his little brother’s gaze for a moment, seeing a flicker of defeat, then more defiance. “Fuck it. I’m going back to work. When do you meet with your parole officer?”
“Tomorrow.” Steve lit another cigarette. “I won’t do anything more today, I promise. Go on back to work; I’ll fix dinner tonight. Thanks for picking me up and letting me stay.”
Josh looked at him, then shook his dark head and left the room. He thought about calling Angie, but decided against it. She’s probably already seen the papers, he reasoned. Hopefully, that pig-headed brother of mine will lay low for a while! He sighed, then realized he was driving toward Angie’s store, the opposite direction from his mechanic’s job at the Ford Dealership. He admitted defeat and found a parking spot. But the store was closed. Josh sighed again and went on to work.
Meanwhile, back at the apartment, Steve had no intention of just sitting around. He grabbed the phone book and looked up his ex-girlfriend’s phone number and address. He thought about calling, then decided he’d rather confront her face-to-face. He took note of the address; shit. He’d have to get transportation. And he couldn’t do that until he met with his parole officer. Steve slammed the yellow phone book shut and lit another cigarette, planning what he was going to say when he saw his lost love.
Snap! Brad’s digital camera clicked as the car snaked along Highway 36.
“I just can’t get over the scenery out here,” he enthused, deleting a few blurry shots. “That elk back there, just at the side of the road, was impressive!”
“And that was a small one,” the older man chuckled. Gavin had lived his entire life in Colorado, and it never ceased to amaze him how the tourists reacted to the wildlife. “Come back in June, and you’ll see the bighorn sheep.”
“Why June?”
“They’re still up in the mountains. For some reason, mid-June they all come down to the lower elevations in the park, near the entrance. Can’t damn near get up to the Falls because everyone’s parked alongside the road.” Gavin slowed for another turn. “There’s a coyote. See him?”
Brad couldn’t locate the small animal.
“That’s okay. You’ll see a lot of them in the park.”
Some time later, they were passing Nicky’s Resort. “Best Prime Rib, hands down,” Gavin informed him. “We’ll go there tonight.” He drove on into Estes Park, and laughed when Brad gawked at the huge ark. “Noah’s Ark. It’s a Christian Bookstore.” He found a place to park beside a strip mall and beckoned to Brad to follow him. “I thought you might like to stretch your legs a bit, and get something to eat. I know I don’t have the cabin stocked yet.”
An hour later, they were strolling through the shops. Brad’s eyes sought out the woodworker’s store, and was surprised to see a young woman behind the counter. At the sound of the clanging bell above the door, her head snapped up from the ledger she was scanning.
“Did I leave the door open? I’m sorry…we’re closed,” she said brusquely.
“I’m sorry…I’m only going to be here until tomorrow,” he smiled. “I just wanted to have a look around, if that’s okay.” Without waiting for an answer, he entered and began to appraise the furniture against the wall.
“I can’t sell you anything,” the girl replied, sounding irritated. “I’m sorry you can’t stay in town longer, but I really should lock the door before anyone else wanders in.” She put down the ledger and moved to intercept him before he moved farther into the shop.
Brad changed course and headed toward the counter. He picked up the catalogue and flipped through it, noting the good quality depicted. “Can I take this with me?”
She tried to take it from him, but he resisted. Her blue eyes turned smoky. “I told you, we’re closed,” she said, her teeth clenched.
Brad cocked an eyebrow at her. Her long blonde hair was pulled back in a thick French braid, and the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. “Just let me take this with me, and I’ll order something when I get home,” he cajoled, turning on his charm.
Fire seemed to shoot from her eyes, but she restrained herself. “Fine,” she snapped. “Take the damn thing. I hope when you call, we’ll have it. I doubt we’ll be able to custom-make something, but you never know.” She ushered him toward the door.
“Tell me, are you as rude to all your customers, or just me?” Brad asked when he’d reached the door. His answer was the door slamming in his face and the sound of the door lock clicking into place. Shaking his head, he continued down the row of shops, buying souvenirs for Angie, his parents, and some friends.
Bob watched as a cloud of dust appeared at the entrance to the trail and relaxed. He’d been stunned when Emma furiously saddled Misty and galloped off without so much as a ‘see you’. He knew better than to follow her, though. After becoming lovers, she had ridden off her anger at her brother, and his presence on the trail had only fueled the rage.boiling up inside of her. Two days later, she had calmed down and welcomed him back in her bed, and asked him not to ever follow her again when she was that angry.
He finished rubbing down his own gelding and when Emma dismounted and led Misty into the barn, he tipped his head at her, but said nothing. Emma mechanically removed the saddle and went about her own rubdown chores. Suddenly, she threw down the currycomb and walked over to him, throwing her arms around his waist and nearly upsetting his footing.
He caught his balance and automatically held her tightly, feeling her stiff muscles begin to soften with his gentle circles. A sob caught him off guard.
“Em?” He asked in surprise. He tipped her chin up and saw the tears pooling in her baby blue eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything,” she sighed. “Just hold me.”
He enjoyed her slim form against his hard body; that was the easy part. But what was tearing him up was the racking sobs that shook her body. He shifted his weight, his growing erection getting uncomfortable. God…of all the times…she needed comforting, not proof of his desire! But the contact was unavoidable, and hell, she looked beautiful when she was angry. He bent down to kiss her head and she chose that moment to lift hers. His lips, full and strong, met her soft ones, salted with tears. They clung to one another, each taking the silent comfort offered. Tongues softly entwined, each promising more to come.
Dragging his mouth away reluctantly, Bob gathered her close. “God, Emma!” he whispered fiercely. “I wish I didn’t have another group coming!”
“I know,” she whispered back. “And I’m sorry for running off like that.” She pulled away with a gentle peck at his lips and stepped back, scrubbing at her eyes and cheeks. “I went in to town and ran into Gavin. I told him about Ethan, and he threw me a curve ball.” She picked up the currycomb she’d thrown and resumed her grooming of her horse, unlooping the reins and leading her into the stall.
“What curve ball? And Gavin’s here?” He checked his watch. Twenty minutes until the last batch of riders were due to reappear.
Emma closed the gate to Misty’s stall and gave her a carrot. “He brought some finance wizard who’s always wanted to see the park,” she explained, taking her saddle and putting it on the shelf. She walked over and helped him finish grooming Jester. “And Gavin told him about Ethan and his lousy bookkeeping, so now I have to go meet them for supper and let this…this stranger decipher my idiotic brother’s spending habits!” She stopped to take a breath and raked a hand through her hair, sending several strands flying as they sprang free of the braid. “Why can’t that man just let me handle it?”
Bob led Jester into the stall and slid the gate shut before gathering Emma in his arms again. “He knows you’re overburdened as it is,” he reminded her. “He’s only trying to help…”
“He’s got a funny way of showing it,” she fumed. “He didn’t even ask me! Just said, ‘oh, meet whatever-his-name-is; he’s the answer to all our family problems’…well, I handled them last time, didn’t I? Why does he think I’m incapable? Is it because he still sees me as a twelve-year-old? I’ll show him I’m grown up! I’ll…”
Bob kissed her to silence her and got his lip bitten in the process. “Ow,” he grimaced. “Don’t try to shut me up that way,” she said hotly. “Next time I won’t stop with your lip!” She stalked away, halting at the door. “Here comes the last batch. I think they’re early. I’m going to shower.”
Monday, October 1, 2007
October...
10:30-WC: 2922. I've had problems this evening, with the computer locking up, and the keyboard not responding. I am at a good stopping point, and should be able to pick it up again tomorrow. Right now, bedtime:)
4:15-Word Count: 1950. Time to stop, take my son to swim practice, and fix an early dinner. Then take him to scouts and go see the MIL. Don't know if I'll get back to this later or not.
October already...time for pumpkins, stockpiling candy, picking out the perfect Halloween costume for kids, and getting ready for fall parties. Not to mention the wonderful Fall Break and parent-teacher conferences.
I don't know where we'll buy our pumpkins this year. Normally, we go to the apple orchard, or when the kids were smaller, the pumpkin patch. Take a hayride and pick our own bright orange pumpkins, enjoy a horseback ride, and drink apple cider. I'm sure they have something similar down here; we just don't know it exists yet.
Halloween costumes...that's easy this year. My youngest will most likely be the only one demanding his Spiderman suit, as my older ones scoff at the idea of trick-or-treating. Although, they love the candy I get every year. And I'm just as bad. When I was pregnant with Will, I found a stash of Snickers we'd forgotten about. Well, doing what any responsible parent would do, I tasted one myself, so my kids wouldn't fall ill if they were bad. And they were so bad, I ate both bags in 2 weeks...and then promptly gave into the craving for chocolate, caramel, and peanuts and consumed 2 more bags. The kids still tease me about that..."Hey Mom...how many bags are we handing out, and how many are for you?"
P/T conferences...sigh. I have it so bad. Up at the old school, I confess to an adolescent-like crush on my son's history teacher...I sat through two conferences quietly hanging on his every word, while my brain was screaming at me to lock him in the supply closet and fulfilling a 'Desperate Housewives"-esque fantasy...and when I left, I prayed what had come out of my mouth had at least sounded like the mother of a teenager, and not mindless drivel or even "take off that shirt and have your way with me..." I was hoping we wouldn't move last year, because my daughter was about to have him as her teacher for 2 years! Ahhh...
Not so this year. But it's okay. My kids are good students, and even the toddler is doing well.
Fall parties and break...what can I say? No more elementary parties...and I'll gladly help out at the Fall Carnival that Head Start puts on. And I've heard the break is shorter down here; instead of getting 2 full days off, they only get 1. That's okay; Grandpa will still be willing to meet us halfway, and all 3 can spend a wonderful 3 days with their doting grandparents, and leave their mother to 3 glorious days without having to mediate, and spend as much time on the computer as possible!
I also have several birthdays this month, as well as my parents' wedding anniversary. If memory serves, this will mark 44 years of matrimonial bliss for them. Watch for tributes this month as I sing the praises of all these occasions:)
4:15-Word Count: 1950. Time to stop, take my son to swim practice, and fix an early dinner. Then take him to scouts and go see the MIL. Don't know if I'll get back to this later or not.
October already...time for pumpkins, stockpiling candy, picking out the perfect Halloween costume for kids, and getting ready for fall parties. Not to mention the wonderful Fall Break and parent-teacher conferences.
I don't know where we'll buy our pumpkins this year. Normally, we go to the apple orchard, or when the kids were smaller, the pumpkin patch. Take a hayride and pick our own bright orange pumpkins, enjoy a horseback ride, and drink apple cider. I'm sure they have something similar down here; we just don't know it exists yet.
Halloween costumes...that's easy this year. My youngest will most likely be the only one demanding his Spiderman suit, as my older ones scoff at the idea of trick-or-treating. Although, they love the candy I get every year. And I'm just as bad. When I was pregnant with Will, I found a stash of Snickers we'd forgotten about. Well, doing what any responsible parent would do, I tasted one myself, so my kids wouldn't fall ill if they were bad. And they were so bad, I ate both bags in 2 weeks...and then promptly gave into the craving for chocolate, caramel, and peanuts and consumed 2 more bags. The kids still tease me about that..."Hey Mom...how many bags are we handing out, and how many are for you?"
P/T conferences...sigh. I have it so bad. Up at the old school, I confess to an adolescent-like crush on my son's history teacher...I sat through two conferences quietly hanging on his every word, while my brain was screaming at me to lock him in the supply closet and fulfilling a 'Desperate Housewives"-esque fantasy...and when I left, I prayed what had come out of my mouth had at least sounded like the mother of a teenager, and not mindless drivel or even "take off that shirt and have your way with me..." I was hoping we wouldn't move last year, because my daughter was about to have him as her teacher for 2 years! Ahhh...
Not so this year. But it's okay. My kids are good students, and even the toddler is doing well.
Fall parties and break...what can I say? No more elementary parties...and I'll gladly help out at the Fall Carnival that Head Start puts on. And I've heard the break is shorter down here; instead of getting 2 full days off, they only get 1. That's okay; Grandpa will still be willing to meet us halfway, and all 3 can spend a wonderful 3 days with their doting grandparents, and leave their mother to 3 glorious days without having to mediate, and spend as much time on the computer as possible!
I also have several birthdays this month, as well as my parents' wedding anniversary. If memory serves, this will mark 44 years of matrimonial bliss for them. Watch for tributes this month as I sing the praises of all these occasions:)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)