Today is my lovely, sweet, funny, silly, beautiful baby girl's FOURTH birthday.
Also, I am extremely thankful for her (and her brother)!
Monday, November 22, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Just So You Know
I think I'm going to implement a new policy on my blog. It will involve not announcing my plans for wonderful post ideas. Because it seems like that may be the kiss of death to my ability to actually sign in and blog about said ideas. Seriously.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Today I Am Thankful...
...that no one reads my blog. Because I totally dropped the ball on my plans for posting something I'm thankful for each day. Luckily, no one noticed! I sat down yesterday morning to start drafting a post and I got distracted. I finally gave up. I'll save what I was thankful for yesterday for another day. Tomorrow, maybe? Maybe.
Right this moment, though, what I'm really, really thankful for is the fact that Pandora seems to have changed its mind about only playing songs for me that I'm not in the mood for. Because I have a living room that looks like a tornado has blown through it and it's just so hard to keep myself moving when I don't have some good "get movin'" music in the background.
Right this moment, though, what I'm really, really thankful for is the fact that Pandora seems to have changed its mind about only playing songs for me that I'm not in the mood for. Because I have a living room that looks like a tornado has blown through it and it's just so hard to keep myself moving when I don't have some good "get movin'" music in the background.
Monday, November 8, 2010
Time To Get Thankful
Since it's November, and since November is Thanksgiving month, I've decided that every day I will write a post about something I am thankful for. I find that I do a lot of complaining, particularly when I've had a long day (or week... or month...), and I don't acknowledge my blessings as often as I should.
So my goal for the month is to count my blessings. And, hopefully, remind myself that life is good and I should really quit my whining. We'll see...
Friday, November 5, 2010
I Think I Can, I Think I Can... But I Probably Can't... But Maybe I Might?
Have you ever heard of NaNoWriMo? It's National Novel Writing Month. Basically, a whole bunch of people say, "Yes! I totally can write a 50,000 word novel in just one month!" And, according to the accumulated word count on the NaNoWriMo home page, apparently lots of people really do. So why is that when I decide, "Oh yes, I totally can write a 50,000 word novel in just one month!" I usually just end up spending a couple of hours staring at a blank Word document?
It's not like I have no ideas-- I generally come up with a new story idea once a day. It's just the way my mind works. And it's not like I've never written anything before-- just ask my 4th grade teacher. No lie, I probably spent more time writing stories than paying any attention at all to what was going on in class from 3rd-6th grades. But 4th grade was definitely my peak. (Side note: I probably should have been diagnosed with ADD or something similar around this time. But this was almost 20 years ago [that was just painful to type!], and that label wasn't something thrown around as often as it is now. It took me until the final semester of my senior year of high school to realize that if writing and doodling during classes was what it took to keep my mind engaged, perhaps those efforts would be best channeled into trying to write down everything the teacher said. I'm a champion note-taker these days. But that was one steep learning curve.)
So why can't I sit down and write 50,000 words in 30 days? 12,500 words a week? 1,667 words a day? It's not like I don't speak that many words in the same amount of time. I have at least one plot and a hundred characters fighting for space in my head at any given time (it's really no wonder I have such a short attention span-- you would too, if you had that many people in your head). All I've ever wanted to be is a writer. There is no place in my life that I can remember not wanting to be a writer (except when I was really little and wanted to be a ballerina despite my complete and total lack of grace, and when I was around seven and wanted to be a professional baseball player) "when I grew up." But wanting to be a writer isn't practical. I am well aware of that. "Oh, well what's your back-up plan?" was the most common reply I got when I told people what I wanted to do. And sure, that question makes sense. It's certainly not like everyone who ever decides to be a writer actually makes a living doing that. But when you're young, what you hear in that question is: You're probably not good enough. What do you really want to be when you grow up? I never had an answer. I wasted a year (and an ungodly amount of money) in college immediately after high school because I picked the first "practical" profession I could think of. I'm still in school, chipping away at a "practical" degree when all I really, really want out of life is to share the people, places, and plots in my head with the world at large.
But... what if I'm actually not good enough? What if I do spit out 50,000 words by the end of the month only to realize that they suck? Is staring at a blank computer screen at least better than that? I can't decide. But I drafted a few paragraphs to a story I've had in my head for a couple of weeks while I was in the shower last night (for some reason, my best thinking happens there). And I'm tempted-- mightily tempted-- to let them see the light of day. Maybe.
It's not like I have no ideas-- I generally come up with a new story idea once a day. It's just the way my mind works. And it's not like I've never written anything before-- just ask my 4th grade teacher. No lie, I probably spent more time writing stories than paying any attention at all to what was going on in class from 3rd-6th grades. But 4th grade was definitely my peak. (Side note: I probably should have been diagnosed with ADD or something similar around this time. But this was almost 20 years ago [that was just painful to type!], and that label wasn't something thrown around as often as it is now. It took me until the final semester of my senior year of high school to realize that if writing and doodling during classes was what it took to keep my mind engaged, perhaps those efforts would be best channeled into trying to write down everything the teacher said. I'm a champion note-taker these days. But that was one steep learning curve.)
So why can't I sit down and write 50,000 words in 30 days? 12,500 words a week? 1,667 words a day? It's not like I don't speak that many words in the same amount of time. I have at least one plot and a hundred characters fighting for space in my head at any given time (it's really no wonder I have such a short attention span-- you would too, if you had that many people in your head). All I've ever wanted to be is a writer. There is no place in my life that I can remember not wanting to be a writer (except when I was really little and wanted to be a ballerina despite my complete and total lack of grace, and when I was around seven and wanted to be a professional baseball player) "when I grew up." But wanting to be a writer isn't practical. I am well aware of that. "Oh, well what's your back-up plan?" was the most common reply I got when I told people what I wanted to do. And sure, that question makes sense. It's certainly not like everyone who ever decides to be a writer actually makes a living doing that. But when you're young, what you hear in that question is: You're probably not good enough. What do you really want to be when you grow up? I never had an answer. I wasted a year (and an ungodly amount of money) in college immediately after high school because I picked the first "practical" profession I could think of. I'm still in school, chipping away at a "practical" degree when all I really, really want out of life is to share the people, places, and plots in my head with the world at large.
But... what if I'm actually not good enough? What if I do spit out 50,000 words by the end of the month only to realize that they suck? Is staring at a blank computer screen at least better than that? I can't decide. But I drafted a few paragraphs to a story I've had in my head for a couple of weeks while I was in the shower last night (for some reason, my best thinking happens there). And I'm tempted-- mightily tempted-- to let them see the light of day. Maybe.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Can I Sleep Yet?
I've been looking forward to the beginning of November as a time when I could finally rest. October was go-go-go with barely a pause for breath. I realize it's only the first day of the month, but I have to admit I was a little bit disappointed when I woke up feeling like I had just fallen asleep! A brief recap of the month:
-Three weekends ago: DeLuna Fest on Pensacola Beach. It was loads and loads and loads of fun. And I'm still on my "gotta listen to more Stone Temple Pilots" kick. We were on the beach all day long and didn't get home until sometime after midnight. I woke up the next morning feeling hungover, even though I'd had absolutely no alcohol. (One word: Port-a-Potty. Alcohol renders my bladder all but useless. No way was I going to be running back and forth to port-a-potties all day long! Ew!) I realized then that either we need to get out more, or 27 is older than I thought.
-Two weekends ago: Road trip! We went to Clearwater, FL for my sister-in-law's wedding. It was nice to see them, and to meet her husband's family (who, it turns out are some of the nicest people I've ever met). It would have been nice to spend a little more time there and explore the area a little bit, but we knew we had a busy week ahead (Hubby's more than mine), so we left at 12am on Sunday. We wanted to beat the traffic, get home in time to rest, and-- most importantly-- trade the constant stream of are-we-there-yets for the sound of soft snores. In order to accomplish this, though, we ended up staying awake for just over 24 hours. It was nice to get home by 8am, and we most definitely spent the whole day resting, but by the time Monday rolled around, I was still feeling a little bit under-rested.
-Yesterday: Halloween. Remember how I thought it was going to be a cake-walk? Ha! (Although there was a cake-walk at the church fall festival...) Olette had had a low-grade off-and-on fever for the past week, but it didn't seem to be bothering her. Friday night, however, the fever decided that "off" was for chumps and put all of its efforts into being "on." When I put her to bed Saturday night, her temperature was 103. That was a long night. But by Sunday afternoon, she was feeling great and it was decided that we were going to the fall festival/trunk-or-treat after all. And then her temperature shot back up to 103. Motrin and a cool washcloth had her feeling better after about half an hour, though, and we took advantage of the break by dressing up and hitting the fall festival. Lots of candy was collected, O was hungry enough to polish off a little bag of potato chips, and she and her brother even played a few games. We topped it off with a hay ride. Towards the end of the hay ride, I could tell she was starting to warm up again, so we went straight home, much to the chagrin of her big brother. Two pieces of candy apiece had Miss O bouncing off the walls, and Ben begging for more. When they went to bed, Ben crashed immediately, and Olette played quietly until she finally fell asleep. Her fever stayed low, and I caught myself thinking, "Hooray, maybe she's over it!" No such luck. She woke up this morning feeling just as miserable and feverish as she had been the past few days. (We're waiting for the results of the strep test her pediatrician took this morning.) She was up several times during the night, miserable and cranky. Which means I was up several times during the night as well. And now I'm tired and cranky, too.
Here's hoping there is some sweet sleep in my future. Olette is sound asleep now, and I could really use a nap, as well. Too bad I've just finished my third cup of coffee!! On the bright side, this weekend there is a big, blank empty space on my calendar. It's the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time.
-Three weekends ago: DeLuna Fest on Pensacola Beach. It was loads and loads and loads of fun. And I'm still on my "gotta listen to more Stone Temple Pilots" kick. We were on the beach all day long and didn't get home until sometime after midnight. I woke up the next morning feeling hungover, even though I'd had absolutely no alcohol. (One word: Port-a-Potty. Alcohol renders my bladder all but useless. No way was I going to be running back and forth to port-a-potties all day long! Ew!) I realized then that either we need to get out more, or 27 is older than I thought.
-Two weekends ago: Road trip! We went to Clearwater, FL for my sister-in-law's wedding. It was nice to see them, and to meet her husband's family (who, it turns out are some of the nicest people I've ever met). It would have been nice to spend a little more time there and explore the area a little bit, but we knew we had a busy week ahead (Hubby's more than mine), so we left at 12am on Sunday. We wanted to beat the traffic, get home in time to rest, and-- most importantly-- trade the constant stream of are-we-there-yets for the sound of soft snores. In order to accomplish this, though, we ended up staying awake for just over 24 hours. It was nice to get home by 8am, and we most definitely spent the whole day resting, but by the time Monday rolled around, I was still feeling a little bit under-rested.
-Yesterday: Halloween. Remember how I thought it was going to be a cake-walk? Ha! (Although there was a cake-walk at the church fall festival...) Olette had had a low-grade off-and-on fever for the past week, but it didn't seem to be bothering her. Friday night, however, the fever decided that "off" was for chumps and put all of its efforts into being "on." When I put her to bed Saturday night, her temperature was 103. That was a long night. But by Sunday afternoon, she was feeling great and it was decided that we were going to the fall festival/trunk-or-treat after all. And then her temperature shot back up to 103. Motrin and a cool washcloth had her feeling better after about half an hour, though, and we took advantage of the break by dressing up and hitting the fall festival. Lots of candy was collected, O was hungry enough to polish off a little bag of potato chips, and she and her brother even played a few games. We topped it off with a hay ride. Towards the end of the hay ride, I could tell she was starting to warm up again, so we went straight home, much to the chagrin of her big brother. Two pieces of candy apiece had Miss O bouncing off the walls, and Ben begging for more. When they went to bed, Ben crashed immediately, and Olette played quietly until she finally fell asleep. Her fever stayed low, and I caught myself thinking, "Hooray, maybe she's over it!" No such luck. She woke up this morning feeling just as miserable and feverish as she had been the past few days. (We're waiting for the results of the strep test her pediatrician took this morning.) She was up several times during the night, miserable and cranky. Which means I was up several times during the night as well. And now I'm tired and cranky, too.
Here's hoping there is some sweet sleep in my future. Olette is sound asleep now, and I could really use a nap, as well. Too bad I've just finished my third cup of coffee!! On the bright side, this weekend there is a big, blank empty space on my calendar. It's the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long time.
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