More Than Anyone Wants or Needs to Know about My Days

So, what are my days like? It depends on whether it's a working-at-work day or working-at-home day.

Working At Work:
I get up at 6:15 if I'm taking a shower, which is every other day, sometimes every two days (but usually every other). If it's a no-shower day I hit SNOOZE, but then I usually get up before the snooze goes off, because the alarm has done it's job, and really there's no going back once I've been startled by that blasted buzzing. Ugh.

On days that I do shower, I usually wake the baby. All the more reason not to shower.

Getting ready is a fast event. I never pick out my clothes the night before though, so the first thing I do is pick my outfit, then I do my girly getting ready stuff and head out to the kitchen to make PEANUT BUTTER TOAST, which is essential. Top with toasted flax seed, cut up some fruit if in season, and I'm ready to go. Well, that is after I snag some of Collin's coffee. He never drinks the whole pot, so I grab a cup, put it on the TV with my breakfast, take my bags to the car then come back and get dishes. Yes, I eat while driving, but I always finish my coffee before I get to the highway and then finish my toast before I'm off Highway 9 - UNLESS I got a late start and go the back route (turnpike). THEN I can be more leisurely in my eating because there's absolutely no traffic.

I work at a Christian-owned company and edit mostly Christiany books, so it helps me to listen to K-Love or to just pray on my way to work. Though I don't do this every day. At this point I've got what I need to accomplish at work that day on my mind. I create a daily goal plan for each month the first day of each month. That way if I get behind, I know exactly what I need to do to catch up. This helps me remain sane throughout the month and, I think, helps me be a better wife and mother. Because I can leave work separate from home life (in a manner of speaking).

I try, try, try NOT to spend much time on the Internet at work. This works better some days than others, but I tend to get accomplished what I need to at work, so I guess I'm pretty good at not wasting my time. I tend to arrive before 8:00 a.m., so I have a few minutes to be frivolous before actual work MUST start.

I will confess: I drink probably a pot of coffee while at work, and I only work until noon. That is not good. But I just love having that steaming cup in my hands while I'm reading. I think I need to take up herbal tea drinking. I don't know how I managed while I was pregnant.

I read between 11,000 and 20,000 words at work each day, plus answer emails, problem shoot, etc. From the first of the month through the fifteenth, I'm just reading new books. After that I'm reading new books and cleaning up last month's books' revisions and prepping books for layout. All of my work goes out at the end of each month, so the last few days are always spent tidying up my notes, etc.

I head home at noon (and HATE the drive back, whereas I quite enjoy the ride TO work), and Drue is almost always still awake, and Collin on the couch working, when I get home. I snarf some food before putting Drue down for a nap and then usually don my workout gear and do Jillian Michael's 30-day shred workout or my favorite Tate workout book: Efficiency Fitness. After that I either clean or do more work-work. Drue gets up between three and four, sometimes as late as four fifteen, and I give her, her post-nap bottle. From that point forward, it's Mommy Mode.

We go for a walk, we go run errands, we play, we read...whatever. She eats a little bite of dinner around 5:30, then she plays by herself while I cook dinner. Usually. Collin usually gets home just before or just after she goes down for the night (at 7:00 p.m. - or sometimes a little later, but NEVER later than 8:00 p.m.). We eat dinner and have a glass of wine (some nights) and watch our Netflix DVD, which is lately either Frasier or News Radio. I fit movies in there randomly. Oh, and soon we'll start Season 3 of Mad Men! CAN'T WAIT.

When Drue goes down, it's like a vacation. We love our evenings. But I love my afternoons with her too. Our nighttime routine right now consists of one last bottle, singing "Jesus Loves Me" (two verses), praying, and rocking before I put her down. Sometimes Collin will want to put her down, and I have to say no. I love it too much. He can be a part of it (and yes, I DO let him do it by himself SOMETIMES), but I love rocking her for a few minutes before she goes down, because that's the only time she REALLY cuddles with me. Like rests her head on my cuddles. And she loves it when I sing. She looks up at me, and I look down at her, and my heart melts. I've also taken to saying the same prayer every night. Don't know how it came to be:

Dear God,
Thank you for today
and for this beauuuuuuutiful baby
I pray that she sleeps tight
and dreams of Jesus, her savior
Thank you for saving us from our sins
It's in his name we pray, amen.

Work from Home Days

Ehh, they pretty much look the same. Collin gives her, her morning bottle, and we're both here for morning playtime rather than just Collin. She still has a morning nap from 9ish to 11ish. On Fridays I take her to the mall after she wakes up from her morning nap. The big kids at the mall play area love her too much. "Get OFF! Give her BREATHING ROOM!" I want to scream...but don't.

And some nights look different. Like Thursdays, when we go to small group and Drue goes down in her Pack n Play in Bunny's room. And Saturdays, when we sometimes go to the Dixons' and put her down there.

Blah blah blah...WHY am I writing all of this!?!

Abrupt Ending.

Book Worm

A friend (whose blog I cannot figure out how to comment on!) recently posted about the books she's read so far in 2010. What a great idea, think I. But if I were to do that, would I include books I've edited or just books I've read for fun? Because if I include all the books I've edited, that would be a lot. And if I only include what I've read for fun, at this point we'd be down to a short list of Christian non-fiction:

Cross Talk, Emlet
Getting the Message, Doriani
Eat This Book, Peterson
Let the Reader Understand, McCartney/Clayton

The only two not-books-about-the-Bible I've read, or am reading, are:

Julia Child's Mastering the Art of French Cooking (I'm on Meats)
and
Ultra-Marathon Man, Dean Karnazes

I think Collin is "borrowing" this book from Doug, who I think loaned Collin the book a year ago. I found it on one of our bookshelves when I was completing our latest book purge. What a fascinating read. Fast paced, of course an incredible story. The guy runs all night. He sleeps while he runs! He eats large pizzas while he runs! He's insane. Right? I mean, do you have to be a little insane to run distances of 200 miles? I think so. But the prose reads as if a sane person wrote it. A thinker.

At work I've tackled Heath Sommer's latest two books, The Grand Delusion and The Human Obsession, the latter of which is still on my desk. The former should hit Amazon in August/September. Both are followups to his first, The Manufactured Identity. All are psychological thrillers with big life-question overtones, and all are fabulous. Although I have to admit, I'm going to try to get him to tweak the ending of THO juuuuust a little bit.

Well, friends, that's what I'm reading. I'd love to know your favorite book of 2010 (so far).

Baby Bag Revisited

Before I get to work this morning, I have to say: in my last post I wrote "what to pack in baby's bag," but I was less than honest. I HAVE gotten better at packing her bag, but that's probably mostly because I keep it packed all the time instead of unpacking it every time I get home. The truth is, I pack way more than I should. The list is really what I need to pack, and no more, but I'm still just too sure I'll need something else, so I pack pretty much everything. Those of you who sit next to us in church and have seen my diaper bag know this and probably read my last post and thought, Liar! I wasn't lying, but what I should have said was:

What to pack in baby's bag:
1. Less than I do.

*And keep it packed instead of unpacking everytime. That's the real key to confidence in leaving the home with everything you "need" for baby.

On a side note, my new dear friend and her husband took care of Drue yesterday while we went to Dallas. (What a day.) We are so thankful to them, and Drue loves them so. But what I want to say is: well, I have to go back a ways...

Once upon a time a friend asked if I could babysit her child while she and her husband went to the symphony. Said friend left a list of things for me to do before putting baby to bed (and boy did I mess up the "brush teeth" part, because I used real toothpaste!), and I got a chuckle out of the "be sure to lotion" baby part of the note. Long story, but I used to have a thing with the word "lotion." Ask if you're interested. (It's not that interesting.) So, I hesitantly "lotioned" the baby before bed and thought, I don't think I'll ever ask anyone to do this.

Well, have a baby and your world changes...

Yesterday when I dropped Drue off, I said to Jennifer, among other things, "Oh, and there's lotion in here if you want to lotion her before you put on her jammies."

The look on her face was priceless! It was the look I would have had, had I been standing in front of my friend and she'd asked me in person to lotion her baby. Now, I wasn't ordering Jennifer to do this. I had merely packed it in case she wanted to. But still, really? I packed the baby lotion? (See former confession about baby-bag packing.)

When we got back yesterday evening, Jennifer said, among other things, "She's nice and lotioned!" And we laughed.

Following the Trend...Nah, Family Trip Time!

There are lots of Day in the Life Of posts these days, and I'd like to provide my own, but before I get to that...

Last Saturday we three planned to meet friends in The Village and drive to Okarche to hit up the ever-famous Eischen's. We packed Drueby's bag, and we were off. (I'm so good at packing that bag now. It used to take me forever. I've acquired much more confidence in this area...and realize we need to take much less. That's the key.) Anyway, we drove to our friends' house and snatched up their little girl and threw her in our back seat. No, not really. We actually asked politely, "Olivia, would you like to sit in the back and entertain Drue on the way?" To which she replied happily, "Yes." And her parents gave the thumbs up, so we were off again. What an evening of driving.

Drue did well. She jibber-jabbered, and I think Olivia enjoyed herself. Collin and I enjoyed listening to the radio and watching our phones go in and out of Mountain Time. (What?) There was some Tweeting and some phone calling, and some singing, and we were there. Just before six o'clock. And it was already packed.

I had a bad feeling from the get go (assumed we wouldn't be eating fried chicken that night). We went in, and it took us a few minutes to realize that nobody seats you; you have to just hover over a table and wait for the occupants of it to finish their meal and get out of dodge. We hovered over a table that looked to be finishing up, but it turned out the people sitting there were still waiting for the table to be bussed! So I took Drue outside, and we crawled around on the cement and kept coming back to the ash pot, so we went back inside. (But while we were out there we were a hit, as usual.)

It was so loud, and Collin and Becky and Drue and I stood around the pool table, while Jolly and Maggie et al stood in this other room where they'd found out there was a line for tables. Ah, some order! Still, it was loud, so Becky and I took Drue back outside, but this time across the street and to the grass.


After a few minutes of leaving everyone else to do the dirty work (wait in line), we decided we'd be better friends and go inside. Soon after that, we (my family) decided we (Drue) probably weren't going to make it. So, we left.

On the drive home, I decided I wanted to go back a different way. I wanted to go south through El Reno. I always enjoy new sights and road trips, and I figured it wasn't to far out of the way. Collin was in the back feeding Drue, because he's a nice person, and I drove, enjoying the Oklahoma landscape. Soon we were there, and I knew Collin was hungry, so I was on the lookout for some eatery.

There was nothing.

I thought, Is El Reno anti-eating? Soon, though, we turned east, headed towrad I-40 and I thought I saw a Taco Bell. I passed it, so I turned a little late, then Collin realized it was a Taco Mayo. And right in front of us, where I'd turned, was a local Mexican restaurant called...something. I knew I'd forget!

On a whim I said, "Family adventure to authentic Mexican restaurant! (Followed by family stomach bug adventure.)" Is it really nerdy how excited I was to be doing something different? Because I was.

We jumped out of the car and grabbed Drue, hoping she wouldn't melt down before we could finish eating, and went inside like a couple of kids. We had so much fun. The food was great, which really we expected it to be (how can you go wrong with Mexican?), and it was like before we had the baby, except better, because the baby was there. And she did great. Oh, family memories...




Maybe next time I'll do a day in the life. But for now let's stick with:

Things to pack in an infant's bag:
1. 2-3 diapers
2. something to wipe baby's bum
3. a bottle and formula (if you're not nursing)
4. No toy - the keys will work just fine
5. No extra clothes - chances are she's NOT going to get so dirty I have to change her in only a few hours (but then, she's not a very drooly baby, hmm...)
6. Maybe some solids if what we're eating won't work for her
7. No everything else.

(I know that every baby is different and that these are just Drue's needs, but it's been nice for us to realize we needn't pack her whole room every time we leave the house.)

And finally, things to know about Eischen's (even though I was only there 30 min.):
1. Get there early.
2. You can order your food early so that you don't have to wait an hour AFTER sitting.
3. There is probably a line in the second room (so that you don't have to just hover).
4. Go with a smaller group of people if possible, or be willing to eat at different tables.
5. If you do hover, make sure the people sitting there aren't still waiting for their table to be bussed.
6. Don't bring a baby (for dinner) that doens't sleep well in loud public places.

The opposite of Good Mood is: Me

I bought something today that I shouldn't have. A digital converter box and accompanying antenna. I bought it because really I'm ready to start having a few television stations at my command. Not because I want to watch television all the time, though I have to admit: when I sat down on the couch this evening before C got home and looked at the boxes, I thought, Will my old habits return with this thing? Will I be watching TV all the time again?

I haven't watched much TV since we were married. We had rabbit ears when rabbit ears still worked, but they didn't work well even before this whole converter thing happened. I could barely get channel 9 but of course got OETA. Which was great. I loved watching the British shows Sunday nights before bed. But then the converter thing happened, and I didn't know there was a $40 coupon, and so I missed it. And we just never got one. We just watched our Netflix, and that was fine. We've even talked about how that is fine (many times), though in the back corner of my mind I've always thought, Gee, I'd love to have one of those converters. I want to watch [insert stupid show name here]. So today, without thinking thrice, and with the thought that Collin wanted one (have no idea where that came from), I went to Walmart to get one.

I quickly found out that they don't sell them anymore. So I went to Radio Shack. They do sell them, but theirs are more expensive than Target's...but "better." And they have a payment plan when you sign up for a credit card that has no yearly fee or charges for notusing it. So really, in my mind, it's a better deal. But that's beside the point...

So, I did it. I made up a conversation in my head that C and I had never had, tricking myself (?) into believing that he, too, wanted this contraption and that the payment plan made it all OK.

Aaaaand I was wrong. Why was I wrong? Mostly because I've gotten on to C in the past for buying things, and here I am busting out way too much money on something I haven't even talked to him about. And oh yeah, that conversation? It never happened. He doesn't even want TV. He's a-okay with Netflix, and for good reason.

So we're at a crossroads. I can take it back. I really don't care that much. I don't need television. I like that my days include mostly silence or music (plus baby). I like that I'm not a slave to the tube. There's not much on worth watching anyway. But I feel embarrassed that I thought he'd be excited about it when in fact he was the opposite. And that makes me angry.

Angry and embarrassed are not a good combo.

The Politics of Drue Bear

I think I've titled a blog post this before. There's a song from the '80s that's called "The Politics of Dancing." I've only heard it once, and because of that once, it occasionally hits the brainwaves but comes out as "The Politics of Drue Bear."

There is a long history of singing in our house, and this song is just one of many. We sang before Drue was born. We would get up in the morning, and each of us would have a song stuck his or her head, and fairly quickly that song would come out. Then we'd latch on to one or the other song, and that would be the song of the morning. We'd laugh and say, "We're so weird. If anyone knew we do this, they'd think we are crazy." And here I am telling you that we do this.

Now that Drue is here, and has been for nine glorious months, there's even more singing in our home. Not just in the morning but all day long, and most often the songs we sing are changed to suit whatever is going on with our baby at the time. That is, the lyrics are changed. As I write this I'm guessing that it's rather selfish of me to think only we do this. I'm guessing 95 percent of the population does this. Do you?

Regarding work, the end of February was nuts, as I thought we had a whole extra seven days. Luckily I had the bulk of my work done and just had to go through and reread and finalize my notes on first-month manuscripts, but sheesh. I was busy. Therefore, no blogging.

Regarding other things, I now have a Wednesday/Sunday subscription to The Daily Oklahoman. Why? Because I have a MA in Journalism and want to keep up with the goings on in our fair state? Because I plan to move to OKC? Because I plan to get really involved in the local community? No on all counts, friends. I want coupons. And now I've got them in my hot little hands. Granted, the dinner menu for the week has been really boring, but I've saved so much the last two weeks that we actually have enough left over from our grocery budget to go out to dinner once or twice without dipping into our entertainment fund. It is worth is, and it is fun. I never knew how fun it was keeping up with sales and coupons. I'm almost glad we don't have a printer readily available, or I'd be online spending WAY to much time digging for coupons. But you know, the first time I went to the cash register with my groceries, coupons at the ready, not only did I feel nervous; I felt guilty. How nutty is that? (And how great a use of a semicolon was that?)

So, savings are happening. Now we just have to figure out whether we want to continue to save in a much bigger way come fall or move to a little bit bigger but more expensive house. Right now it's looking like a good spring purging is at hand and we'll be staying in our tiny duplex. I think I'm okay with that. For now.

Finally, the photos I snapped earlier today. These two were too cute when I came home, all matchy matchy. Love it. And love the new couch.







P.S. I hear The Star-Spangled Banner being sung outside my window. I thought it was our neighbor, but it's happening at the softball field across the way and traveling on the wind. Not bad. Now feeling patriotic. And ready to pay bills.

Bye for now.

Word Faith Movement

"I am not sick!"

I'm not a believer in the word faith movement, but I'd like to think that downing this pot of echinacea tea will keep me from getting sick. I'm not much of a tea drinker, but this isn't that bad. Maybe it's because I'm drinking it with a slice of spearmint gum.

I said slice, yes. I said it once as a joke, and my husband laughed and laughed. I've decided since to refer to sticks of gum as slices of gum.

I'll start my own word movement.

Baby, that's a goooooood chicken dish.

Tonight we're having one of our favorite dishes, and one of my favorite to make because it involves the slow cooker, Chicken Curry with Peaches. I originally got it from, I think, Cooking Light (that or Taste of Home, my all-time favorite cooking magazine, though you have to really watch portion control since few of the meals are exceptionally healthy). It's amazing to me how you can take just a few ingredients and make a most delicious meal.


Chicken thighs cut up, salted and peppered.


I use real (and more) onion than the called-for 1 Tbsp dried, minced onion, and three, not two, garlic cloves. Some curry, some butter (melted), chicken broth and a half cup juice from a big can of canned peaches (which I'll add later). Mix it together and pour it over the chicken, and four hours later... Delicious food!

When the chicken is done cooking, you remove it and add a corn starch and water mixture to the broth, along with the peaches and some raisins if you want, let it heat, and THEN your done. I like to serve it over basmati rice.

Op! Baby is about to awaken, and speaking of baby, I caught her doing this today.


What's that she's doing?

Oh, just...

...watching some TV?

I'm not sure what she was seeing, but she was intently watching. I think she must be a prodigy of some sort.

Lately

Roses given to me by my husband, who was given roses by co-owner of Blue Bouquet (www.bluebouquet.com), Drue Carr, upon her thirtieth birthday. I guess Drue (yes, we named our daughter after our dear and talented friend Drue) was sad that I couldn't be there and so sent Collin home with a dozen roses for me. They are dead now, but they were gorgeous.


Thanks to Brandy Criger, I now know "what not to wear" and was able to purge five bags worth of probably ten-years-old clothes. I consigned two other bags and a hanging bag full. Too many clothes? A resounding Yes.


Made these for our friends and work colleagues last Saturday. They look like a box of chocolates! And tasted even better.


I love taking her to Barnes and Noble (or any place that has a "kid zone").


And...there she is! With her princess wipes container (a favorite "toy").

Wish I had a photo of the breakfast we ate Valentine's Day morning pre-church. It involved cracking eggs over top a casserole and baking it. Man, oh man. With homemade biscuits and honey, I could eat until I'm ill.

So it looks like I found the time to post some pictures. Guess I shouldn't grumble and complain so much. ::wink::

It's 7:59 a.m.

I get to work early so I can tinker around before I have to really buckle down. If I don't work at work, I will not survive the rest of my life.

I feel so busy these days. I want time to read books outside of work (more than five pages at a time). I want to upload pictures from my phone and camera and blog about the things I've taken pictures of lately. I want to have a cleaner house. I want to do more for others.

I do, do things for one other - Drueby.

I would love it if some of these schools to which Collin has applied would call him. He's worthy of an interview. I'll be honest. I'm angry that he hasn't been called. I'm angry at these people on these committees who pass over his vitae and cover letter. I'm sad when he finds out that another job that he'd applied for has been filled. Right now that's as far as my anger goes, but it's getting scary. I've said that God is going to take us right to the point of thinking Collin's going to have to work at Starbucks and THEN give him a job. Maybe that's what he really is doing. Maybe Collin will have to work at Starbucks. I need patience.

Now to work. It's 8:08. Oops!

Things I've Wanted to Blog About but Haven't Found the Time To

A couple of the meals I've made recently.

The flowers I got for Valentine's Day.

The fact that my baby, as of today, is pulling up and suddenly very clingy.

Other things.

Happy Valentine weekend, friends.

Finding My Girly

I spent a lot of time in Vegas walking up and down the strip, hanging out in casinos, and blowing a little bit of cash (seriously, a very little bit). On my walks I saw a lot of beautiful women dressed very fashionably. I felt out of place even when wearing my "dressy" clothes (the ONE "dressy" outfit I brought). I realized that since well before Drue was born, I haven't done much to care for my appearance. I haven't worn makeup at all; I wear my glasses daily; and I pretty much always stick with ratty old pants and nine-year-old shirts. Before I go on, let me just say:

1. I love not wearing makeup and the fact that it usually takes me fifteen minutes to get from bed to door. I do not think women need to wear makeup all the time.

2. I love glasses and have worn mine daily for months; and my husband has worn them daily since I met him.

3. Pants and tops are great. Go for it. I wear them all the time.

But I think it's time to start trying again. I know that C would like it if I wore a skirt now and then, wore makeup now and then, and generally cared about my appearance now and then. :) I think I would like it too. Actually I know I would, because yesterday when I was getting ready to take Drue to the mall for our weekly playdate (hate that word), I was getting ready and threw my hair back in a ponytail, put on some ripped jeans, sneakers, and an oversized shirt that really I should only wear when I'm pregnant. I looked in the mirror and saw what I see every day but thought, Wait a minute. Drue's not up yet; I've got at least fifteen minutes until she is. Why don't I put on something nice, throw on a little makeup, and put contacts on my eyeballs? It won't take long, and my hair is clean enough that I don't HAVE to put it back. Let's do this!

And I did. And it's funny... At first, at the mall, I thought people were looking at me because I looked stupid. Surely, I thought, everyone knows I'm just not girly, so why am I trying to be? I look stupid in makeup and have too much on. (Really I didn't at all; I had barely any on.) I was wearing a dress and had my hair pinned halfway back and just felt foolish. But then I saw myself in the reflection of a store window and thought I didn't look half bad, and it struck me: First, people are NOT looking at me; how self-centered AM I? And second, if they are looking at me, maybe it's because I look good, not bad.

From that moment on I felt really confident. Until, on the way home, I spilled a soda down the front of my dress, but that's another story. I went home and put Drue down and spent her naptime going through my closet and reorganizing - and rediscovering - my clothes. I have a good number of cute skirts, and my nice jeans actually fit. I have some really cute tops in there. Now all I have to do is shine my black boots, because today I got some new makeup and a new black cardigan from Gap (with a gift card) and a little casual dress from Old Navy, and I feel like a new me. (Hyperbole.) I even did my hair in a new style this morning - something I NEVER do. So what's an extra fifteen minutes now and then?

I think I've found my girly.

Simple Pleasures

My old work colleague and friend, Emily Mo, posted something about the things in life that make her happiest. I thought that was a swell idea, so here are the things that these days bring the most joy into my heart...

When I see God at work in ours or others' lives.

Listening to good music.

Watching '90s television shows with my husband after a long day.

Good-sleep nights.

Drue giving me a smooch or laughing, or basically doing anything at all.

Reading a good book.

Yummy coffee in the morning.

Going through food magazines and cutting out recipes.

Cooking.

Saturday morning jam sessions.

Small groups.

Eating cookies

And of course, the very cliche but very real, spending time with friends. I'm an extrovert, y'all.

Bright Lights, Big City

"Bright lights, big city" is what we say to our Drue when she wakes up from a nap or in the morning and squints her eyes in the new light. It's probably the cutest thing ever. But really: Bright Lights, Big City above is in reference to our trip to Vegas, baby, yeah...


My husband the rock god...outside Caesar's Palace. Maybe my favorite hotel and casino. I know it's one of the older hotels (or am guessing it is), but it is awesome. Plus, Bette Midler performed her last show their our last night there. How cool is that? (We didn't attend; way too expensive; but I hold a special place in my heart for "Wind Beneath My Wings," and all you naysayers can just put a plug in it!)


Awaiting the aforementioned "spinach and artichoke" dip. I was so hungry...and then so depressed. But that all changed when...


These "Fancy" Joes hit me the following night at Encore's Society Cafe. A very yummy twist on American cuisine, in a very posh hotel.


That's Donny and Marie in the background. The Flamingo should be the next to go after Circus Circus and The Riviera. Or are these three too "staple" to go? It's just so gross sitting there next to Caesar's and the Bellagio with its dirtiness and pinkness, etc.


Me in Paris. I played my first poker table here and lasted ten whole minutes. Impressed?

Bright Lights, Big City (Take Two)

A room worth crying for?


We went to Vegas for the buffets. Especially the seafood buffet at Mandalay Bay.


My male model husband.


Our fancy dinner out.


The first time we saw the fountains at Bellagio, the music accompanying the show was L-A-M-E. The second and third times: it was one of those things where the music playing makes you feel really cool. Tell me you know what I mean. Everyone walking by has to feel cool when "Luck Be a Lady" or "Viva Las Vegas" is playing and they're standing outside the Bellagio, don't they? Maybe cool is the wrong word...???

All in all, we had a great time. We walked a lot. My hip flexors hurt a lot. My knees ached a lot. I loved having zero responsibility a lot. And now I get to see my baby again a lot. All is well.

Good morning from Las Vegas!

We arrived yesterday morning. The city hadn't woken up yet. We walked into our hotel, The Rivera, and all the signs at Check-In were turned to Check Out, since nobody checks into a hotel at ten o'clock in the morning. We'd been up since 4:40 a.m. and were pretty tired but had had enough coffee over the course of the morning to keep us from sleeping. So we went to our room, ready to drop our stuff and head back out for a bit. I love hotels. They have king-sized beds and fluffy pillows and cable TV. I was psyched to find out where we'd be staying for the next four nights...

The room was AWFUL. I won't even go into detail (because I don't want to remember it), but I'll say: I cried. Yes, I cried. I didn't want to stay there AND be missing my baby for five days. No way. I asked C if he'd call the front desk and ask how canceling a reservation works (how much money we'd lose). I really wanted to go somewhere else.

He was kind enough to call and ask, and the woman on the phone told him, he hung up, then she called right back and said, Why don't you come downstairs and talk to Vera. I'm sure there's something we can do to make you a little happier.

My spirits perked. I was feeling a little guilty for not liking our room. Surely I could just ask for a few extra pillows and more bed sheets and deal. How snobby am I?! But still, I was so happy...though hesitant to believe the rooms in the hotel could get much better.

Long story semi-short, they did. Vera was as kind as can be and got us a new (recently remodeled) room for the same price, and when we arrived in the room, she called immediately and asked how we were or if they needed to upgrade us even more. I said no. "Thank you so much. This is marvelous." And it is. Snooty, spoiled Meghan got her fluffy king-sized bed with fluffy pillows and a flat-screen TV, AND a view of Trump Tower and the mountains. (Don't really care about the TT bit.)

So we settled in and went downstairs to find something to eat. We ended up playing our first slot machine together and won zero monies (but only put in one dollar). Then we went outside, where it was raining, walked across the street, and went to Circus Circus. We're in the "old" part of the strip; just down the street are the bigger, newer hotels. I'd always wanted to go into CC when I was a kid, but my parents said no, so I thought: let's do it now. It's probably just as grossish as our hotel, and we'll probably not go back again, so let's go have lunch at Circus Circus. And we did. And it was gross. :) But we'd eaten at a decent price and were ready to go back to our hotel and have a nap.

Of course, by that point I'd already called my folks to check on Drue at least three times. She's doing great, btw. Loving spending time with her grandparents. They have such a cozy home; I can't imagine her NOT enjoying herself tremendously there, even at eight months.

After a quick nap, we played a game of Arkham Horror in our room then decided to hit the town!

I would like to take a break here and note that pictures are forthcoming. They won't send from my phone to my email currently, but as soon as they do, they'll be posted! Not that they're much to look at.

As we were walking down the strip and were thankful we were wearing our tennis shoes, we talked about C.S. Lewis and his idea about hell being (to those of you who know all about this and realize I'm communicating it incorrectly, please give me a little grace here) noise...or that noise is something that works to keep us from God. We realized that we were in the midst of a lot of noise, nothing but noise. C brought up the scene in Never Ending Story (is that the right movie?) where the kid (girl?) is in a trash heap, and the witch is trying to distract her with noise. "Here, look your dolly. Oooooh, look at pretty such and such," etc. Man, I remember being scared so badly by that scene, and so I was scared when - and honestly a little peeved that - he brought it up. (I got over it.) It was a good conversation. And nice to be alone together, though I miss Drue something fierce. All this to say, I'm glad we're just visiting.

We went to the Bellagio and to Caesar's Palace, which is crazy cool (and Bette Midler is performing her last week of shows there, so all the older folks were out in droves to see her and wearing black and fur). We spent way to much money on two drinks each then made our way back to the Riviera, where we decided to eat something. So we went to the best restaurant in the hotel and ordered spinach and artichoke dip. We couldn't wait to devour it. Then it arrived, and it was this: whipped heavy whipping cream with a few vegetables. Three bites of that would've been enough for anyone, so no real dinner for us. But lots of CREAM.

This morning C's at his conference, so I just buffeted alone and am waiting a bit for the city to wake up so I can go shopping (and not buy anything). It's sunny today with a high of 59. Very nice. For breakfast I drank lots of coffee and ate: two mini waffles, eggs with peppers and ham, one biscuit and gravy, a slice of honeydew melon, and a few bites of "Mexican breakfast" (steak, potatoes, and corned beef hash). I am stuffed to the gills, but we're running low on funds, and so I know I probably won't eat again until dinner; that is, of course, unless I win big on video poker. Nickel slots, here I come!

Tales from the Kitchen

I attempted Kirsten's Beef Burgundy last week, and it was a hit, though better three days after the fact. Things I learned:

1) cook the bacon until it is ALL crispy
2) salt the beef a little more
3) maybe use a touch more soy sauce

I would include a picture, but the only one I snapped didn't turn out well. My favorite part about cooking lately is cooking with wine. It makes everything taste so good and rich. I have a recipe to try later this week that involves white wine. And the best part is, you buy the cheap stuff!

I've also been enjoying my Flat Belly Diet cookbook of late. I'm not following the diet, and I'm not technically on a diet, though I pretty much always count my calories, but that's another story. Most recently C and I have come to enjoy: Chick Pea Curry with Cashews. Ooooooh, man.



Throw a dollop of Greek yogurt on a bowl full of THAT, and I'm a happy camper.

Tonight I baked homemade pizza for the first time. It was a recipe from Cooking Light, and in true Becky fashion (she's really inspired me), I modified the recipe. Instead of cumin and paprika, I used half curry/half chili powder and three quarters paprika/one quarter ground red pepper. Then, for the dough, I used mostly wheat flour and separated it into seven yummy personal pizzas instead of eight. The dough is INCREDIBLE. I also used Mozzarella instead of some other crazy cheese, though I'm sure the crazy cheese was better; I just didn't have time to get to Forward Foods.

Next time I'll probably process the diced tomatoes before simmering them. That or I'll find a way to crimp the sides of the dough so that the saucy part of the sauce doesn't fall off the pizza. Maybe corn starch? Anyway, here they are!

The Cutest Baby in the World, Subjectively Speaking

I'm getting ahead at work since we're heading out of town at the end of this month. I've been too busy to blog, but here are a few recent photos of the Drueb and updates:

1) Drue is CRAWLING!
2) And I'm pretty sure she said the word cat.
3) I am loving the Efficency Fitness workout.
4) A FAVORITE Tate author is now on Twitter, per my advice. Go, Heath!
5) We are driving to Dallas tomorrow to see Bruce.

I shall post a more meaningful something soon (something regarding our favorite new meal and my most recent go at "high cooking"). In the meantime, check out these very meaningful pictures.

The Sound of Nostalgia

We were given a 40th Anniversary Sound of Music DVD for Christmas. The gift was for Drue, but I've been enjoying it. The Sound of Music was the first movie my dad ever recorded on TV, and so I watched it all the time. The thing about The Sound of Music is that seemingly everyone loves it, and if they don't: they at least have a story about it. My story is that my dad recorded it first and so I watched it. My story might also be that it was the first kiss I ever saw on television, maybe ever in my life (that I noticed). Oh, and I might also note that "Climb Every Mountain" was my favorite song for a time. I'm interested to know your Sound of Music story.

I only realized when watching this time around that the TV version I'd always watched was missing a lot. (Thank goodness they edited out a lot of the original Police Academy; I would have been scarred for life had they not, but that's a different story.) Anyway, I'm just rambling. So now, for your viewing pleasure...

Peek-a-Do!

I always thought the game Peek-a-Boo was boring. Why do people do that with their children? I thought, judging them mercilessly.

Well, I get it.

I get the reason for it. I get why it is fun. I do it all the time. I even have a peek-a-boo book that I like to read with Drue.

It takes actually being a parent to get a lot of the things I didn't get before.

Thank you, God, for this beautiful, learning little creature...


PEEK-A-BOO! (That's Uncle Michael.)

Oscar the Calf

I'm editing a book this morning that is a study of the book of Malachi. The author has used passages in Malachi to address certain issues that the larger church doesn't seem to be getting today. It's written by a reformed minister and deals with such issues as (surprise!) predestination, marriage, and now idolatry.

So I'm thinking, regarding yesterday's post: Do I throw around the word idol too loosely? Idols are something that should be put to death. They are scary. In yesterday's post I wrote about an idol of mine, but I didn't make it clear how much I desire to put that idol to death. So I'm saying it now...and continuing to think about idols.

Do we have a healthy enough fear of the idols in our lives, or do we easily forget what a big deal they are and just say, "I have this or that idol" as if it's nothing? I fear I'm in the latter category, heading toward the former...

I find it interesting that Webster's defines the word idol as: "anything on which we set our affections: That to which we indulge in excessive and sinful attachment."

To be liked or not to be liked: that is the idol.

I have an idol. I have more than one idol, but the idol I'm thinking about right now involves whether everyone on the face of the planet likes me.

Now, I care about this less than I once did. I recently advised a friend not to worry whether the man she's interested in's ex-girlfriend likes her. Who cares? I said while flicking my hand. You're not obligated to be friends with her; she's not obligated to like you.

Hypocrite.

Today when my husband said, "Not everyone is going to like you," I was faced with the tough reminder that: 1) this is true; and 2) I do still care - because I got sick to my stomach.

Let me say: I'm not delusional. I know that not EVERYONE is going to like me all the time. That's impossible. I don't even like me all the time. What bothered me about what he said is that he was referring to people whom I know and with whom I am friends.

Do people I know not like me? I thought. Probably. Ouch. Do they like me in general but sometimes not? Surely. Still ouch. But this is a truth that I need to get used to, just as I've gotten used to the fact that it's okay that my husband sometimes doesn't like me. Because he always loves me. I can't find my rest in whether so-and-so likes me. I can only find rest in the one who gives me true peace and rest.

My husband.

I'M KIDDING! To all of you who just gasped and had already opened a new window to compose an email that communicates to me just why that is so very wrong.

I still want everyone to like me...all the time. But hopefully this "need" will lessen now that I'm made even more aware of it. I suppose I can get used to my best friends not liking me now and then. After all, this has always been the case; I just hadn't thought about it much before.

The Story

Little girls with names like Amity and Hailey and Reagan are sinners. And they don’t know that their names, which afford them instant popularity so long as they’re not fat, add to a level of inherent evilness. How can a name like Bunny not flip a little girl’s evil switch?

I don’t have one of these names. I have a name like Sarah or Lisa or Lenora. And I also didn’t have Guess jeans with a zipper running down the ankle or a ten-speed bicycle. I had a banana-seat bicycle with pictures of bananas on it—bananas and apples and oranges. It was blue. The bike had shiny silver handles that started at seat level and rose up about a foot before curving out into very wide grippers. “Here I come on my nerdy bicycle!” they proclaimed. Only I’d gone one step further and attached streamers to the handles, which made me even more of a target to the Peppers of the elementary school social sphere.

At the time, I’d already had my shoes removed from my feet and thrown into the muddy sinkhole on the playground. I’d already been embarrassed to tears by Jenny, who took my arm and strutted me past Jason, my heartthrob, while batting her eyes at him and then me and chanting, “Guess who has a crush on you?” I’d already been called out for cheating on a test that I wasn’t cheating on—Cherry was. So should I have known better when two of the most popular girls in my class came up to me one day and said they wanted to ride bikes home with me after school? Maybe. Instead, my heart pounded and I said excitedly, “Sure!”

I was finally going to fit in.

“Great! We’ll meet you at the bike rack after school,” they said.

Great.

It was all I could do not to run to the bike rack after school. And there they were, their bouncing curls bouncier than ever, their smiling faces smiling at me sinisterly, and maybe part of me knew it. But more likely than not, that’s just hindsight bias. We only made it halfway down the fence that bordered the school play yard before they looked at each other and took off, leaving me alone on my banana seat. At first I pedaled as fast I could to catch up. I thought it was a game. Then I knew. It wasn’t a game. I was a loser. A chubby, nerdy loser, who was never going to fit in and was never going to have the things the other girls had so that she could fit in. I road home crying.

Mom wasn’t yet working in those days, and so when I got home, she was in the backyard in the strawberry patch picking strawberries. I remember wanting to make sure I was crying when I got to her. I was going to make myself cry if I had to; I needed someone’s affection that badly. But it wasn’t difficult. I bawled before I got one word out. And Mom was sad for me, I think. I don’t remember what she said. But I do remember her wondering why I wanted to play with those girls days after they’d done that to me. She let me go but didn’t understand.

The thing is: I always come back to this story. Every time I sit down to write about my past, this is the story I start with. It’s like I can’t get past it. Every time I think about being hurt as a girl, this is the story I remember first. I’m realizing how utterly heartbreaking this was for me. I wonder what it means, if anything. I wonder where those girls are now. I wonder if they have little girls. I bet they’re sinners. That’s a joke. I know they are, because I am too, and so is my daughter. But I pray that she never treats another peer that way. I pray that she loves her neighbor as well as her enemy, and that she talks to me when she’s hurting. I don’t look forward to her crying. I don’t like it now. But crying is good…

My Blog Has A New Name

Probably because I haven't blogged about my job in while but have blogged about my newest addition: Drue.

She's almost six months now and sort of sleeping through the night. She wakes up so that we'll give her, her pacifier, but then she goes right back down. But enough about her sleeping habits, for goodness' sake. Why do I always go back to that?

I am having trouble typing today. For the rest of this post I will type as I have been all day and not go back through and edit. Here goes...

I"m editin ga book for a guy in Maryland. He's payign well. This is freelance work. I've almost transcribed the entire book.

I need to get to work, so relaly this post is nothing, except to show you that I cnnot type dtoday wihtou making a million zillion typos. Aughhhh!!!!

Redundant Much?

I didn't realize I blogged about napping in my last post. Oops. Sorry to bore the few of you who read my blog with the same topic (sort of).

Do you know what I love right now? Knee socks on my baby. You're supposed to fold the little socks over when you put them on, but I just yank 'em right up, all the way to the knee. Yep. Gooood lookin.

Little Bear, Little Bear, How You Snooze

Naps. I love them. I wish I, myself could take them. I try, but I can't. Well, every couple/few weeks I get a good one in, but other than that, I just lie there, get annoyed, and get back up again. But the Bear? Oh, she naps. Unfortunately, we've gotten in the habit of appeasing the 45-minute intruder (going in and patting her and giving her a binky), so that means we have to visit her at least once (and in the afternoon at least twice) during her naptime. I keep wondering whether we need to break her of this. (We also haven't yet forced her to sleep through the night. She gets one meal in some time during the wee hours.) (Thoughts?) But she's such a good sleeper. Thank God. She goes right back down (most days) and sleeps until she's supposed to, according to the schedule I've created for us.

When I think about having a second child, I wonder: Will he or she sleep as well as Drue? Probably not.

Because Drue sleeps a lot. Sometimes I wonder if she's sleeping too much. I know that every kid needs something different. But this kid...

She needs like 16 hours.

I'm getting more into the swing of motherhood. I've realized the Bear does okay when we're out and about now. In fact, she's liking it more and more and does great in the Bjorn. I think she's going to be a thinker, like her dad. Her eyes are just brilliant. I see those wheels turning 24/7. Well, 8/7. Anyway, yesterday after her four o'clock meal, we went to Sam's straightaway. No hanging out at home. We just left. And yesterday evening was the first evening in at least two weeks that she didn't cry for over an hour. We came home and I put her in her exersaucer and I chopped up dinner (fruit salad!). Then we had some Mommy-Baby time, took a bath, got lotioned, and it was already time to eat again. No tears! I think I'm going to try it again today, and if it works again, try to make this four-thirtyish outing fairly routine.

Regarding other new things: She's found her falsetto, or something like it. This high pitch she couldn't emit before. She found it yesterday. I came home from work, and there she was hanging out with Daddy, cooing in this hilarious new voice. And she knew it was new, because she couldn't get enough of herself. She was actually entertaining herself. She was so proud.

She's smiling a lot more now too, and really, really trying to laugh. She'll bust a gut soon. It just won't quite squeak out right now.

It's like something new happens every day. I can't get enough of this Bear.

The Napping Game

Dear Drue: You are to stinking cute. But when you are moody, it's annoying. Please stop that. Love, Mommy

The babe has a similar routine each day. On days that I work: up with Dad, morning nap, hang with Dad; Mom comes home and puts her down and works/does something while she takes a long afternoon nap. God answered prayer today in that she slept well; I only had to go into her room a few times, and each time she settled right back down into more sleep. Yesterday was good too. But the day before that, oh, the day before that...

I've learend that if I give in during her afternoon nap crying time and pick her up: it's over. There's no hope of her going back down, and there will be a lot of screaming. But I couldn't help but pick her up two days ago. She was doing her crying thing, and I had let her "cry it out" enough; it was time to visit her; and when I walked into her room, she was pushing up and had drool running from her lip and tears pouring from her eyes and snot dripping from her button nose, and the look on her face was perhaps the saddest, tiredest, most pathetic, adorable, sad sad saddest look I've ever seen. I didn't think about the repercussions but immdiately swooped her into my arms and almost started crying myself. Poor baby.

Am I a sucker? Perhaps. Will I be a sucker? I hope not.

Lessons in What Not to Write: No. 526: "not unexpected"

I saw a tweet today that got me reeling. I am thankful it was just a tweet and not a book I'm editing. I like the person who wrote this tweet; he's a crafty guy, very good at what he does. But he could use a lesson in "writing worthiness".

Oh, twinges of hypocrisy are bubbling up. I know that very little that I write is exciting and/or worthy. Let me just say that up front. But the subject of this tweet went something like: traffic is really bad; it's not to be unexpected.

What does that sentence leave you feeling? It leaves me feeling like I just wasted time reading that sentence.

Lesson no. 1 in news writing: mans bites dog versus dog biting man. If the story isn't original, then don't write it. If your audience expects that the traffic will be bad, then they don't need to read that it was bad. And THEN be told that it is not to be unexpected. And let's not even get into the double negative issue here.

Today I published a Facebook status that admits to the world that I love to imagine myself playing lead guitar on songs that rock. I do this probably daily. Maybe a little less. Doesn't everyone do that? Anyway, that may be a stupid post; that may be something that no one wants to read; but at least it's not cheating the reader. It's giving them new news.

So, tell us something new, something truly unexpected. Make us feel. The purpose of even Twitter shouldn't be to ALONE write things like: went to the gym; went to the store; went to the gym again; played some golf; wow, it's hot; traffic is bad, but who the hell thought it wouldn't be? etc.

Or maybe that is it's purpose.

Hello!

Well, the first sentence of my last blog is incorrect. My identity isn't new; it has only been added to.

I love this baby more each day. It's quite a ride. I still don't mind getting up nights, mostly because I only have to do it once now, though we're having to sort of work toward the "once." Meaning, when she wakes up at 1:30, I have to go in and pat her and put in her pacifier, then go back to bed and wait to see if she'll cry and I need to do it again...until I actually feed her at 3:00. But I think she'll start sleeping until 3:00ish without assistance soon.

I was freaking out about her schedule last week but am feeling much better, thanks to the many friends who sent me messages on FB about the topic and the husband who is more understanding than I at times deserve. Right now we're doing a morning nap and a longer afternoon nap, and she's pretty much given up a full evening nap, though she likes to doze here and there before 7:00. A bedtime routine is forming. But most importantly, I'm learning to have an open hand with it all. There are days when the "schedule" just isn't going to work "perfectly," and that's okay. Thank God.

I made it through my first month back to work, which feels great. I look forward to one book in particular next month.

I Am a Mother

My identity has changed.

I've had some baby blues, but last night I had a breakthrough. I realized how bonded I'd become with the baby when I tried to feed her a bottle at 11 p.m. and wanted to cry. Let's be honest: did cry.

There's nothing wrong with bottles or formula. This is just my experience.

I also realized how much I love my baby when I went to Target to pick up some diapers and smelled them, and a huge smile crossed my face and I wanted to rush home to her.

I'm also starting to get used to being up nights. It's difficult but truly getting easier - something I hadn't thought about. I don't know why, but I honestly didn't think that this could get "normal." Thank God it does. Of course, I'm talking about one night here. We'll see if I'm spewing the same come tomorrow and the next day.

Collin has been great about bearing the load with me. We're lucky in that he doesn't have an eight-to-five, in-office job, and I have the month off, so now that I can drive, he makes sure I can get out a little. I was freaking out about him leaving during the day at first (mostly because I want to be selfish and NOT tied to my house and live the life I lived before, free as a bird), but a dear friend reminded me that who I am a wife and mother is probably much more sane than who I would be (and have been) without.

Anyway, here is our little Drue bear.


I sang "Jesus, Lover of My Soul" to her the other day while she was settling down, and I realized how much she depends on us, as we are to depend on Jesus. What a beautiful picture painted before me. Unfortunately, I forget it all too often and think I'm doing this all alone. Thank God I'm not. And thank God she's not.

"Other refuge have I none
I helpless hang on thee
Leave, oh, leave me not alone
Support and comfort me
All my trust on thee is stayed
All help from thee I bring
Cover my defensless head
In the shadow of thy wing."

Let's be honest: I had trouble not boo-hooing through this verse.

In a change of subject...
I never thought I'd have to have a c-section, especially for such a tiny thing. I took the tape off my incision today. Strange to think that's where she finally came from - after a labor to remember. I'd go back and do it again in a heartbeat.

Still getting used to this mother thing though.

"They float down here. And when you're down here, you'll float too!"

I finished Jodi Picoult's The Pact this morning. I don't know what I think about the ending. The whole book was depressing. Parents who don't know their kids; kids who don't know who they are. It was well written and compelling, as usual; she's one of those who can break rules and it's OK. But the ending. Was it too quick? I like that she ended with the climax and wrapped up in an epilogue, but I felt there was one bit of information lacking.

I don't want to ruin this book for anyone, so that's all I'll say, but if you've read The Pact, did you think there was at least one bit of information lacking in the epilogue, or did you love how it was done?

My husband is finally conquering his fear of Stephen King's It. He's been afraid of the story, or the Pennywise the clown, since the movie came out on TV in 1990. He's on page 753 of the book now and loving it, which is validating to me, as it's one of my favorite books.

I would love it if he started reading fiction regularly. He's already a great idea man and has been helping me with my novel a bit (although sometimes I have to tell him to save it; the plot is the plot, and these other fantastic ideas can go into other stories), and I think his reading fiction will make for some fun conversation. Not as though we don't already have great conversation, but how cool would it be to talk about psychology, research, AND story, among other things, of course.

4:54 p.m. + 7 working days

Just finished an incredibly sad and moving story about an American nurse working in Saudi Arabia. Remind me to tell you about it.

In other news: just finished the backmatter for an incredibly sad and moving story about an American nurse working in Saudi Arabia. Remind me to tell you how to get a copy of the book once it releases.

And finally: the book does has some non-sadness about it.

Awry in Arabia by Mary D. Kavanwal

Psycho Editor is Unable to See Beyond Technicalities, Becomes Depressed

I've noticed that I often get so caught up in structure that I forget character - that, to me, structure trumps character. But this seems crazy. Could this be true?

When I've asked job candidates the question, "What makes or breaks a (fiction) book for you?" nine times out of ten the candidate's answer has been "character." And nine times out of ten I have snickered and thought, How cliche. Do you really know what you mean by that?

But the truth is: character is a fine answer. Often times whether I've liked or cared about a character was the reason I kept reading a book and didn't throw it across the room. So why do I have such trouble digging into this area when I'm editing a book? Why is it always: plot structure, holes, story questions, plates, stimulus-response, dialogue tags, etc.?

Probably because these are the things I studied in grad school. But also because these are simply the things that stick out to me.

Last month, however, I felt I did at least one of my authors a disservice by not talking character and focusing on other, what I thought were, larger issues. And maybe they were larger issues, but regardless of whether this author goes back and fixes all of her dialogue and answers or doesn't answer certain story questions, there is still the issue of, Do I really know and love these characters? What could she do to make me care about them more?

It's not as I don't have pages and pages of knowledge on this stored away as well. I just seldom bring it up. Ugh.

This month: I focus on character. I see what happens. I dig deeper. I don't forget about the rules, but I am honest about how I feel about the characters in the books I'm editing and whether they really impact the reader.

This month: I get back to work on my novel.

This month: I have a baby.

This month: Angela and I make this magazine happen.

And then I don't sleep for a while, because hey, it's May. I can't believe it's already May. I had a big realization when I left work Thursday that today it would be May. And months go fast. And at the end of this month comes new life. Whoa.

A Follow Up

BACK TO HUMOROUS CREATIVE NON-FICTION:

A writer friend asked what I ended up sharing with the author whose memoir I edited and posted on earlier this month.

Had I given the book more time before posting I would have seen that there were moments of depth in the story and ultimatley a well-contructed story with a clear story arc. I spent most of my notes discussing story structure, tense, and the inclusion of a second voice. However, there was also something to be said about the at-times too intense humor toward the beginning of the book.

So I addressed where the author was pushing it; where hyperbole was too obvious; where humor could have worked better if focused differently (e.g.,not just on sex; that gets boring, is too easy, and can exude an image the author doesn't want to portray). That's not to say I don't appreciate both brokenness and redemption. I do. I read mainstream women's fiction and get a kick out of the crass humor at times. But there's no denying it can be a little...bleh. Have you SEEN SNL lately?

It was a good read, and I'm excited to look over the polished product next month.

An Awakening of the Mind

A fellow editor and I were walking back to our computers after a nice walk to Homeland, and she asked, "Bruce Springsteen or Huey Lewis?" I had to go with Huey Lewis. I don't know much Springsteen but grew up with The News. Then she said, "Huey Lewis or Billy Joel?" I had to go with Billy Joel. Then somehow Phil Collins came up, and she said, "He beats 'em all!"

I realized that growing up I thought that every Phil Collins song I heard on the radio was just a Phil Collins song. I knew of a band called Gensis, didn't I? But weren't they just a side project for Phil Collins for some short period of time?

Well, no. Duh.

I then realized that I now knew that Genesis was something bigger than I'd always suspected, but that I'd still never learned much about the band. So, I finally took to Wikipedia tonight and learned about Genesis, and whoa...what a project. I had no idea. Basically every Phil Collins song I ever loved growing up (aside from "In the Air Tonight" and "Sussudio" and the song about the homeless lady) was indeed a product of Genesis. Even less did I know that Peter Gabriel (holy cow) was the original singer of this band.

I am now up to speed on Genesis, at age 30.

"If you didn't do some crying while writing this book, then the book's not done."

QUESTION: Can a person write his or her autobiography or memoir (there is a distinct difference) without crying at some point?

I'm editing a memoir right now that is very well done. There are some issues to be addressed, sure. But they're all very common and easy fixes (so far), except for one...

The author is good at humor. This is a skill. This is great. I read the Table of Contents and laughed. That was good.

Yes, there are moments that the humor can be cut, when it is forced or the hyperbole is too obvious. No problem. But this is a story about brokenness and disfunction. It is the story of a mother, daughter, and daughter's daughter trio. There are some really sad truths behind the humor, and sometimes I want to cry instead of laugh, but I can't, because the author won't let me. She forces me to laugh.

Is this good? Is it okay? Will readers feel cheated, or am I just an emotional basketcase who enjoys crying too much?

I've written some of my own story, and there was a lot of crying involved in that endeavor. Perhaps I didn't see enough humor in it as I was writing; there's definitely humor there; but that wasn't the purpose of the exercise, so maybe what I'm really doing here is asking this author to do what I did. Maybe I'm being too subjective.

In conclusion, because I'm clearly failing to pull my thoughts together: I'm going to think through these things and find a cohesive way to express them to the author. Currently my note reads: "Your reader wants to feel like you’re telling the truth more often. If you didn’t do some crying while writing this book, then the book’s not done. Some of the harsh reality needs to come through; I think a person who picks up this book doesn’t want just a humor book. And a book that makes you laugh AND cry will make you all the more marketable."

Still thinking...

(Also, in case you were wondering, that's only a snippet of my thoughts-note.)

A Trip Down Memory Lane

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8myK93FqbYc

My grandmother loved the Mills Brothers. We used to listen to their tapes in her car, and so I loved them too.

I was in an after-school program for a short time in the fifth grade, and the lady who ran the program created an Olympics event that included who could jump rope the longest, etc. One of the competitions was a dance competition. The rules were: you choreograph the dance (the first time I'd heard the word choreograph) and you choose the song. Only the song couldn't be longer than two minutes.

The movie Dirty Dancing had just come on the scene, and "I've Had the Time of My Life" had hit the radio waves big time. There were I think three of us who entered the dance competition: myself, Julie H., and Amanda R. The OBVIOUS choice was to go with "I've Had the Time of My Life," but I wanted to be original. I went with the Mills Brothers' "Opus One." Oh yeah.

So, the big day comes, and Amanda and Julie go up to do their self-choreographed dances, but the opener to the song "I've Had the Time of My Life," you'll remember, is rather long and BORING. Let's have a refresher, shall we?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RH0lEVMuzzw

You'll notice that by the time the ticker hits two minutes, we're barely into the dance-worthy part of the song. (Please note I'm being sarcastic. I realize one can dance to the beginning portion of that song with much feeling and grace. However, I remember one of my competitors spent almost a full minute lying on the ground before rising in an "I've just woken up" sort of way, etc. We were in the fifth grade!)

Cut to: Meghan runs out to her starting position and busts a dance to "Opus One," a two-minute (almost exactly) song that nobody expects!

Looking back, I'm sure that all of the kids my age were laughing at me and making fun of me behind my back. "What a GEEK!" But the lady who ran the program: she loved it. I took home the cardboard gold medal. And I think I won the silver in jump roping.

All this to say, thanks Kylie for randomly getting "Glow Worm" stuck in your head today and boldly sharing with two bewildered co-workers. This has been a fun trip down memory lane.

"I can't kill anything that tickles me, Hank."

Just before I got married I started watching King of the Hill on DVD. I'd watched it on Fox when I had basic cable and lived alone. When I moved in with my friends, I no longer had cable but needed to get my KOTH fix, so I started buying it. I started with season three then got seasons six and five as gifts. After we were married, I went through a phase of watching KOTH pretty much constantly (still no cable). One day my husband had had enough. He turned off the show that was playing while I washed dishes, put it in its case, and took every case of KOTH sitting around the living room and put it away.

Maybe it was just the fact that the discs were no longer readily available. Maybe I was actually tired of them and didn't realize it until he put them away. Maybe I was just taking the hint and giving him a break. But I stopped watching King of the Hill that day and haven't regularly pulled it out of its hiding place since.

Today I did. And I love it.

Feet

I'm having to get up from my desk more frequently now. My feet feel burny and swollen.

P.S. I just left this up on my desktop and was going to go for a short walk around the facility when I ran into some acquisitions reps, one of whom, after a short conversation about having to get up and walk around quite a bit (prompted by the question: how are you feeling?) loaned me her footstool! I'm using it now. It is wonderful (sigh of relief).

Drue Alison Barnes

We had a third ultrasound today. The doc wanted to check her kidneys. Turns out everything has matured well, and things look great. And we got this great profile picture out of it!

Found a crib and dresser/changing table. Ecstatic. This is starting to feel very real.

Iiiiiiiit's FRIDAY!

Listening to: Silence.

Accomplished today:

Team meeting. Fielded general questions, mostly involving what to do when a book has gone to layout and the author sends new info, like endorsements. Everyone has a book he/she is really excited about this month. I must admit, I'm a bit jealous that Angela picked up the Solomon's wife story, but I've got two fine books to tackle, so I'm good. Very good.

Edited. Worked on a fantasy story today. Mostly honing in on dialogue tags, as the story is very well put together. Possible problem in sleeping patterns. The author might be married to the day-by-day approach, but I've just started so we'll see.

Book club. Working through and discussing Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. We read a couple of really dark chapters this week. Trying to figure out August's motivation and whether I really think the protagonist is male. (I know he is; I just can't get over the fact that it took me quite a few pages to realize he was.)

Grammar meeting. Learned something new about implied subjects and when a comma is necessary in a sentence such as, "Now, go ahead and open the book, and turn to page four." Because the subject, you, is implied for both clauses but is nowhere to be found in the sentence, the comma separating the two is acceptable, correct even. Except in this case I'd argue it is not necessary because the second clause is so short. If the sentence were to read, "Now, let's go ahead and open the book and turn to page four," no comma is necessary because the subject, us, is there, and both verbs refer back to it. But enough about that.

Magazine brainstorm. Indeed this magazine idea is starting to come to life. We're this close to settling on a name, which will help focus our communication and really let us figure out where we're going with the mag. I like the team we've put together and can't wait to see what kind of logos KP comes up with once we settle on a name. Being able to visualize it a bit better will work wonders.

Editing. Well, blogging. As soon as I hit Post, editing. Then home. Then Red Lobster. I haven't been there in years. All I remember is waiting for a table for a REALLY long time. Let's hope that isn't the case tonight.

On a personal note: Husband is sick. Baby is kicking. Stomach is rumblig. Feet are swollen. I can't wait to see dear friends tomorrow and Sunday. How I love the weekend.

Grace and Peace.

Green March

Starting a new batch of books and loving every minute of it. I have a younger author this month. He's publishing his first with us, and I'm thrilled to have been assigned the book. I think we'll make a good team. He seems to have a solid understanding of what an editor and writer do, how they relate and work together. I've already got some good feedback for him and can't wait to see how this book grows. Not a bad start to a new month.

In other news: baby is growing. She now has a middle name: Alison. I'm scared to death one minute and ecstatic the next. I can't wait to gut my house in preparation and am counting down the minutes to the allotted time to do so.

I never believed "nesting" was real. It is.