Monday, December 26, 2005

Because I'm Bored Out Of My Mind At The Moment

More quizzes! Gotta love 'em. I took these at blogthings.com.
You Are a Losing Lottery Ticket!

Full of hope and promise.
But in the end, a cheap letdown.


You Passed 8th Grade Science

Congratulations, you got 8/8 correct!


You Are

A Franken Pumpkin Face

You would make a good deformed pumpkin.


Your Personality Profile

You are dependable, popular, and observant.
Deep and thoughtful, you are prone to moodiness.
In fact, your emotions tend to influence everything you do.

You are unique, creative, and expressive.
You don't mind waving your freak flag every once and a while.
And lucky for you, most people find your weird ways charming!

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Chronicles of Narnia

Dan and I went to see Narnia today--one of the 5 movies we swore we'd see before the baby came, and actually, the first one we've seen. I loved it! I've read that book so many times--I used to read the series to my kids after lunch back when I taught, and I really thought they did a great job of capturing the essence of the story. And man, that White Witch is creepy! (But with a VERY cool wardrobe--her dresses rock.) Next on the list: Memoirs of a Giesha (loved the book), Harry Potter (since I've seen the others I figure I might as well keep up with the series), Walk the Line (because I really like Reese Witherspoon and it looks pretty good), and Pride & Prejudice (because I love the story and Kiera Knightly). Dan wants to see Fun with Dick and Jane, but I'm not a big Jim Carrey fan, and it just doesn't look that interesting to me. But hey, who am I kidding, we're not going to have time to see these movies because I'm going to have a baby soon. Really, really soon. Right??? I said, RIGHT?!?! Please, please, someone promise me I'm going to have this baby soon....

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Where do you get your ideas?

When I tell people I'm a writer, I inveitably get asked how I come up with my story ideas. The joke of it is that my ridiculously overactive imagination needs very little to get going, and last night is an excellent example.

I woke up at 2:40 and had just been laying there when my cell phone rang. The readout said "Private number" which usually means my parents or one of my few friends with a private listing. I quickly pick up and say hello, and am met with...well, not exactly silence, because there was plenty of noise, but it's the kind of noise you hear on the phone when the person you're talking to puts down the receiver, shuffles it from one hand to another, etc. After saying hello about 4 times and getting no response, I hung up, and the plot-growing questions began.

-Who was this person? Obviously someone who had me on either speed dial or redial, which means someone I know was up at 2:55,holding their phone, and apparently oblivious to the fact that they were pressing the call button.

-Why were they carrying a phone around? Typically you don't haul a house phone around just for the heck of it. (I'm assuming it's a house phone because I don't think you can block cell phone numbers from showing up on caller ID or have them listed as private.) So they're either waiting for an important call (at 3 in the morning?!) or cleaning up the house (at 3 in the morning?!).

-Why are they up at 3 in the morning? I can honestly think of only two people who call me regularly and have a private listing: my parents and the Cummings. Now, while it's possible that one of my parents was up in the middle of the night, it doesn't make sense to me that they'd be dragging the phone around with them, because half the time they can't find the thing in the first place, and second of all, at 3 in the morning, I can asure you my parents are not cleaning the house. Having a little snack, maybe; watching some TV because they can't sleep, possibly. But not cleaning. So it must be the Cummings. But they have two kids--one is 6 months and the other is 2.5 years--and when you've got kids that small you're only giving up sleep because one of them is sick or you're feeding the baby--and again, you're not playing with the phone.

Now, I'm in the middle of sorting through all these questions when the phone rings again. I answer and hear nothing but that shuffling sound--and then a toilet flushing. This brings us to a whole new set of questions!

-Why do they have a phone in their bathroom? Neither my parents or the Cummings have a phone actually installed in there, meaning they brought the cordless in. But why?

-Again, why are you up at 3 in the morning? If you're just up to use the bathroom, which is completely normal, then you wouldn't be holding the phone at the same time. Which means you're up for something else. But what? And why?

"Why," to me, is the most important question when writing a story. It helps you to investigate nooks and crannies of the action that you might have left alone otherwise, and uncovers the motivation of even the most minor of characters. Without action and motivation, you don't have much of a story. The character hates her husband--why? Because he belittles her in front of her friends--why? Because he secretly fears her superior intelligence--why? just keep asking the question and you get to all sorts of interesting new places which ultimately serve to give your story believability and depth.

Seconds later the phone rings again. By now I have silenced the ringer because the sound is too jarring to take in the dead of night, but the thing vibrates on the table, making a whole new weird noise to be bothered by. I wrap it in the sofa's armrest cover to muffle the sound and start listening to my hypnobirthing on my iPod in an attempt to go back to sleep, but when it rings five minutes later the vibrating can be heard through the calming voice of the hypnobirth lady, and I finally turn the blasted thing off. But can I sleep? Nooooo. Because these blasted questions are pinballing around my cranium and I'm desperate for answers. (I'm also extremely nosy and really, really want to know who it is.)

But, despite the fact that I never got any answers, and probably never will, I do have to admit I've got all sorts of interesting story starters to play with next time I need a plot:

-A woman sits at her kitchen table, wrapped in her robe and the darkness of night, clutching her cordless phone with such strength that her knuckles are white. The only light in the room eminates from the television, which she's turned up to drown out the silence that terrifies her so. Why is she awake? Why is she afraid? And why is she clutching the phone so hard that she accidentally presses the redial button--without realizing it--and why is she alone when her husband is sleeping peacefully in the room down the hall?

-A man frantically races around his house, cleaning as thought Martha Stewart herself were coming to critique him. He's wired on Red Bull and a little speed, and he keeps picking things up and forgetting to put them down again. One of them, the cordless phone, remains in his hand as he gulps another Red Bull and then relieves himself in the bathroom. Why is he cleaning in the middle of the night? Why is he so frantic about it? Why did he take the speed? And why is he so distracted that he keeps holding onto things instead of putting them away like he intends to?

-A toddler sits in his mother's lap, clutching his bottle and blankie. Mom fell asleep trying to get him back to sleep, and now he's not only wide awake, but bored. He slips from her lap and abandons the bottle once he hits the floor and crawls out of the room. He finds himself in the living room, which is lit by the nightlight in the corner, and his eyes are attracted to the glint of something on the couch. Pulling himself upright, he grabs for the shiny thing and begins to gum it with all his toddler might. The object--a cordless phone--suddenly beeps and begins to ring, which causes no end of delight for the child. Suddenly a voice, sounding both far away and right next to him, says, "Hello?" He stops chewing and stares, trying to determine where this person is. 'Hello?" He realizes the object is talking to him, but then it stops, so he chews again in the hopes it will resume. Why was the phone left off the cradle all night? Why is the mother so tired that she fell that deeply asleep? Why isn't the baby afraid of the dark?

Are these scenarios going to provide me with the action for an entire book? No, not necessarily, but they're the beginnings, the stepping stones that you hop on to get to the giant plot rock on which you can build your story. And it's all thanks to someone I apparently know who called me at least 5 times last night without even knowing it.

Why?!?!?!

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Who doesn't have 5 minutes?

I googled myself last night because I was bored off my butt, and found my way to this awesome company called DearReader.com. Their goal: to get people reading! They have a bunch of online book clubs (fiction, non-fiction, business, "Good News" (a.k.a. the Christian fiction club), etc.) and you sign up for the one(s) you want to be on. Then, every week, they choose a new book, and every day that week you get a 5 minute installment to read. By the end of the week you've read the first 2-3 chapters of the book and can decide if you want to go get it and finish it. Then, the next Monday, they start a new book. How cool is that? And just guess what book they're using the week of Feb. 6 for the Good News club? "Worlds Collide!" Woohoo! How cool is that? They also have online discussion forums for each book, and apparently authors sometimes make an appearance, so I may pop on over there and, if nothing else, spy a bit. :) Dan thinks I'm a masochist for wanting to go read what people are saying, but frankly, I'm too nosy not to. And I've had enough positive feedback at this point that I think I can let disappointing comments roll off my back. At least, I think so. Guess we'll see in February!

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Hark, the next door neighbors sing...

I just thought of something they don't do out here in California at Christmas. No one goes caroling. I guess I can't blame them, really--caroling in shorts and a t-shirt doesn't really have that Christmas feel to it. When you don't have a reason to wrap your hands around a steraming mug of hot chocolate at the end of the outing, there's really no point in going out in the first place. But wow--talk about missing out on a great tradition! Caroling was one of my favorite Christmas activities. :(

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

Happy Thanksgiving!

Somehow it's already Thanksgiving. Not sure how that happened; I seem to have lost a month or two in there somewhere. But anyway, Happy Thanksgiving to all my American friends! And to those few international readers...um...may this Thursday be especially happy for you. :) Dan and I are going to his parents' place in Ventura for the traditional Morrow famly smorgasboard. They're not big turkey and stuffing folks (one of their few flaws) and their SOP for Thanksgiving has always been to eat the food you're most thankful for. Everyone puts in their "order" for one dish they'd like to have, and then we just do a big buffet. I'm making Grasshopper Legs for dessert--crunchy Chinese noodles stirred into a melted mixture of butterscotch chips and peanut butter, and then frozen in clusters on waxed paper. OH MY HEAVENS they're yummy. Not sure what to request for dinner, though; I'm thinking the same thing I did last year, which was crabmeat buns. I think Dan requested a particular pizza last year, and his Dad did steak...I think...anyway, it makes for an interesting collection of food, I must say. :)

Any other unconventional Thanksgiving traditions out there?

-Alison

Tuesday, November 22, 2005

The Thing about Dying Is...

Not the most uplifting topic for a Tuesday morning, I know, but my friend Katie posted this on her blog and asked people to post a comment on her site finishing that sentence. Last night as I danced with insomnia, I thought about how I might complete it, and I realized that it would make an awfully long comment, so I decided to post about it instead.

The thing about dying is...

it's not natural.

Now, I know we're always saying, "Circle of life," and "dust to dust" and "everyone has their time," and while all that is true, I believe there's still a part of us that rails against it because we know, deep in our souls, that it's not supposed to be this way. We were not created for death; death is like an ill-fitting after-market accessory. God created us to be eternal, the way He is, to dwell with Him forever in the Garden, chatting face-to face with him. But because of the Fall--that first sin, that first exertion of human will--death was, in essence, born.

I've been thinking a lot about death lately. Sounds morbid, I know, but for some reason this impending birth has caused me to reflect on the imminence of death. Two years ago this holiday season my paternal grandmother, Meama, died from liver cancer. Dan's grandmother, Gwen, is in the throes of dementia and is frail as a whisper. The 8-year-old son of a friend's friend needs a bone marrow transplant, but is so weak from his need for it that he can't get it. And when I pray every morning for our child, for his/her health, life, and relationship with God, I find myself typing with the most fervancy about his/her lifespan, and I work myself nearly into a panic thinking about what it would be like to lose our baby "before his/her time." But the truth is, as long as I'm still alive, his/her death will always be too early. I know the Bible tells us that our days are numbered, that God knows when we will all perish, but just because He knows doesn't make it any easier--in a way, it makes it worse. Can't He let me in on it, so I can either relax or be sure to make the most of every single second?

And then, because it's the Christmas season, I think about Mary, about her giving birth to a baby that she knew would be the Savior of the world, and wonder when it was she finally realized her child would have to die. Talk about the most unnatural of deaths: Perfection Incarnate--flawless, sinless--being exposed to the most imperfect of human experiences: death. How did she handle it? How would I have handled it? Only by the grace of God, I am sure. There's nothing that strong in me, to see my child every day and know that someday he would be tortured and killed in such a brutal way for a mountain of sin that he had nothing to do with.

The thing about dying is, it's not natural. How I long for the day when death will be defeated, when Christ will return and our frail human bodies replaced with the flawless ones our souls were always meant to inhabit. I pray with the fierce selfishness of a mother that the time will come before my child is faced with its inevitability.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

Oh yeah...

I kinda forgot this stage of editing: the copy edits. Here I was, all thinkin' I was done and wouldn't have to read this thing ever again, and then a package shows up on my doorstep and there is my manuscript. Again. Needing to be read. Again.

Now, technically, I could blow it off. The copy editors will email me with their questions, and there are proofreaders going through it at the same time checking for spelling and grammar, so really I don't have to go through it if I don't want to. They're professionals, right? They'll catch everything that needs catching.

But can I really just pitch the thing into the recycling bin and leave it to them to find it all? No. I can't. Much as I'd like to, I'm way too much of a control freak. So I will, again, read this blasted manuscript and scour it for typos and inconsistencies. And then, when they send it back a second time to make sure I'm cool with all the changes and we haven't missed anything, I will, again, read it and scour it and groan about the story and how I should have done this differenly or phrased that this way instead of that way, and I'll generally berate myself for thinking that I could write, and I'll grudgingly give it my stamp of approval, and THEN I won't have to read it again.

Of course, then I'll have reviews to read instead.

*shudder*

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Tag--I'm IT, apparently...

Visited my friend Katie's blog and discovered I'd been "tagged"--so here are my 20 random facts--although, truly, I can't think of 20 things that would be even partially interesting:

1. I can write backwards, in cursive, and very legibly, too.
2. I used to babysit Chicago Bear Mike Singltary's kids at church.
3. I almost died at birth from some undiagnosed mysery illness, and had to stay in the NICU for almost a week.
4. I met my husband on eHarmony.com.
5. I've been in a number of eHarmony.com commercials due to #4.
6. I lived in Scotland for a year.
7. I can touch my nose with my tongue.
8. I became part of the nightly entertainment on a Royal Caribbean Alaskan cruise--one of the bars had a "piano man" who would play requests but then also let you sing along if you wanted (kinda like live karaoke). I developed a following and sang for two straight hours one night thanks to all the requests I got.
9. I have a postcard collection.
10. I have broken my left wrist three times. (Consequently, I am left-handed. Made homework really hard.)
11. My first word as a toddler was "agua" thanks to bilingual "Sesame Street."
12. Before I knew how to talk, I would hum while eating. Those who know me well know this is a habit I've yet to break.
13. I had a boyfriend at age 6. (Travis Johnson, where are you?)
14. My family moved to Missouri on my sixth birthday, and moved back to Illinois on my eighth birthday. (My parents tried to prevent years of therapy by postponing their move to California by a day so they wouldn't be moving yet again on my birthday.)
15. I wrote a novel in junior high.
16. I only lost 8 of my teeth naturally as a kid; the rest had to be pulled becuase the roots were wrapped around my jaw bone.
17. I once used someone else's ID to get into a bar when I was underage (just to go dancing, I swear!) and the bouncer busted me because he knew the girl whose ID I used. (He still let me in, though--it was a 18-and-up bar and you got handstamped if you could drink, so he didn't stamp me and made me promise not to try to drink. Like he had to worry; I just about ran home in tears when I realized I'd be found out.)
18. I was one of 5 white girls in a 200-voice black gospel choir in college.
19. I was addicted (in the real sense of addiction) to an online role-playing game in college.
20. Two of my toes are fused together halfway up.

Sheesh! It took me like, an hour and a half to think of all those. (Well, while also watching the Colorado-Texas hockey game.) I'm so boring. Anyway, the following people are now tagged (although who knows if they'll know it--I'm not even sure who all reads this blog!). I don't know enough people with blogs, so rather tha listing 5 I'll list 3:

Meg (Pants Central--link on the right)
Cheryl (Cheryl's journal--link on the right)
Rebecca (babyknapp.blogspot.com)

Go for it, ladies!

I'm a FLYGirl!

No, no, I'm not referencing "In Living Color;" I'm referring to the best website I've ever come across: FLYLady.com. I've always been one of those pack-rat, clutter-ruled people whose room (or house) was never clean, even after I'd "cleaned" it. As FlyLady puts it, I was ruled by CHAOS (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome) because my place was always a disaster. Lots of procrastinating, lots of mess, lots of "hot spots" (those places in your home where clutter seems to accumulate the fastest because it's a handy place to put stuff until you've decided what to do with it, which you never actually do). But last weekend I was at a women's retreat with our church, and at dinner one night someone mentioned this website and how wonderful it was. When I got home I popped on over there, and I was an instant fan. It's full of quick and easy fifteen minute tasks like the 27 Fling Boogie (grab a bag, go around the house and throw out 27 things, then immediately put the bag in the trash), Zone cleaning (every week they target a different zone of the house, and you only work on it about 15 minutes a day--this week is the front entrance and front living space), and also has morning, afternoon, and evening routines already mapped out for you to help you keep track of things like meal prep and laundry. Throughout the day you get email reminders about the next task for the day, so if you're like me and you live on your email, you never have an excuse for forgetting what needed to be done for the day.

One of the best features of the site, especially at this time of year, is her Holiday Cruise Program. Her approach: pretend you're going on a cruise Dec. 1 and you have to have all your holiday stuff done by then. Every day she sends out another task like "get all your gift-wrapping tools together and put them in one place" or "write down the dishes you'll need to make for holiday get togethers" (again, nice bite-sized tasks that take short amounts of time, not your entire afternoon) and if you follow along with them, you're ready to go as of the beginning of December! Seeing as our December is going to be rather crazy and unpredictable, this is totally helping me to make sure that month is relaxed from the get-go.

I'm off to take my shower and start my morning routine (before attending baby shower #8 of the year). For once I'm actually looking forward to cleaning!

Monday, October 24, 2005

Dream a Little Dream of Me

I had another gun-related dream this weekend. That makes something like four or five gun-dreams I've had since getting pregnant. Try as I might, I can't seem to think of any connection between babies and guns, so I'm not quite sure where my subconscious is trying to go with this.

Upon waking, however, I realized that in all the dreams I've had since being pregnant, I've never looked pregnant in any of them--in fact, save one, I've never been pregnant in any of them. Given the fact that I've been "showing" since the end of the first trimester, you'd think this new self-image would have seeped into the nether regions of my brain by now, but apparently not. It makes me wonder just what our subconscious pulls from when piecing together an image of ourselves for use in our dreams. Is it based on what you looked like for the majority of your life? On what you wish you looked like? How drastic of a change needs to occur to your body before your true self is mirrored in your dreams? It seems at first blush like a fairly unimportant concept to research, but I think there are ties there to some really interesting issues regarding our self-image. We all know that the way we see ourselves is rarely the way others see us; people who suffer from eating disorders and see themselves as overweight when they're really skin and bones is a prime, albeit extreme, example.

So, out of curiosity, how true to reality is the dream version of you? Has it ever changed? What triggered the change and how long did it take for your subconscious to make it? Ah, psychology--it's such a fascination to me. Wish I knew more about it...

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

Well said.

For anyone who a) thinks they want to be a writer, or b) think writers are some kind of extra-special people, please go read this awesome post. If I had an office, this would be framed and on the wall.

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Done!

The edits are in, and novel #2 is officially complete! I can't believe how early in the fall we finished; I really thought it would end up taking closer to December to get it all done. What a relief! Now I can concentrate on doing all those things I've been neglecting because I felt bad not working on my book.

It's been raining here for two full days--it's wonderful. It's so nice and cool now! Dan was laughing at me last night, because when we left Bible study and were walking to our car I kept saying, "It feels so nice out here!" and six months ago I would have been complaining about how cold it was. Heck, all last night he had the down comforter pulled up and I just had the sheet. Weird! I've never been warm-blooded before.

Dan and I both adore the rain. We've lit a fire the last two nights and turned the lights down, and it's so yummy listening to the rain outside and the occasional grumble of thunder. I never thought I'd say it, but it's true: I get tired of the endless blue skies and sunshine. Half of the year we hardly have weather, it's just the same thing over and over. Clouds are a novelty to me now because we have them so rarely. And after all the hotter-than-normal days we've had lately, the cool rain and wind has been delicious!

The only problem is that all my maternity stuff is summer stuff. I have a pair of jeans, a pair of overalls, a pair of sweatpants, and four long-sleeved shirts. That's it! Time to shop again. Someone around here needs to start a maternity consignment store!

Sunday, October 16, 2005

Get out your crystal ball...

I have a little contest going on over at my baby blog. Stop on over and put in your guess. There's even a prize, for those of you who need a little incentive to participate. :)

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

WIP #3

WIP #3 ("work in progress" for those who don't know da lingo) is officially underway! Two chapters down and so far I think it's going well. It's so fun to see how a new manuscript develops, the tone and voice of it, the style it takes on. You'd think I'd know this stuff going in, but I don't. The one thing that still hasn't made itself plain is the title. I had one I really liked, but being a stickler for proper word usage, I couldn't do it--it wasn't quite right. So now I'm titleless. I hate that. I've always had titles right from the beginning; it's part of what sets the stage for me, mentally. So if anyone has any ideas for a title for a book about two women who have been friends since childhood and are drastically different from each other, let me know. :)

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Planning ahead

We haven't even finished edits and my next novel is already on Amazon.com! "Violette Between" will be released May 16 (according to them--the first official date I've heard, so I'll take it). I'm just waiting for the line edits, which I think I'll get around the 14th, and then, after I get those in, I think I'm done! Hallelujah!

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

The Artful Dodger

The jury duty bullet was successfully dodged! Actually, I told the judge honestly that I would love to serve on the jury, but it would mean giving me a break every half hour to pee and eat and walk around (my back locks up if I sit for too long). He said he'd leave it up to me, but if I wanted to postpone it till after the baby that was fine. Gee, what option do you think I'm going to take? So he dismissed me until February, which is silly, since I'll be breastfeeding then and I don't think they'll want my two-month-old in the jury box with me! :) So that was a huge, huge relief. Although, for some bizarre reason, I feel guilty for having gotten off, I guess because the judge was willing to make it work and I didn't take it, and who knows what kind of a trial I might get stuck with next time? This was one only a week--next time it could be one of those month long ones, or worse. Whatever. Anyway, thanks to those of you who said a little prayer for me; I appreciated that. :)

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Civic Duty

Well, tomorrow I have jury duty. It figures that I'd finally get called at a time that is just SO inconvenient. I've actually always wanted to serve on a jury, although I'm sure those of you who've had to sit on one think I'm daft for wanting to, but it would definitely be an interesting experience and who knows what kind of great story ideas I might get from it? But for pete's sake, why couldn't they have called me any of the other 5 years I've been here when I wasn't great with child (and great with the need for sleep and constant food)? Not to mention that I have an honest-to-goodness business trip to Dallas on the 8th. If it's guaranteed to be a quickie case (and how can they possibly guarantee that? They told my mom her case would be a week or two, and it turned into three months!) then I wouldn't mind so much, but the fact is you never know how long it might be, and that's not a risk I want to take right now. I'm hoping it won't be a risk THEY want to take, either, and that my massive stomach will elicit their mercy. So those of you who are the praying sort, please send up a plea for compassion for me. I'll let you know tomorrow how it all turns out....

Friday, September 23, 2005

Q: Who needs sleep?

A: Apparently not my husband. It is now almost 9:15 on Friday night, and Dan has not slept since waking up Thursday morning at 10:30. Yes, that's about 35 straight hours up--and he's still going strong! Why, you ask, did he pull an all nighter that just never quit? Because he wasn't tired. Duh.

So this morning when I got up we went to IHOP for breakfast, which was a fun treat. While he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I felt like crap, because I only got 7 hours of sleep, which is the equivalent of about 5 hours to the non-pregnant Alison. It's incredible how I can do absolutely nothing and still be exhausted. (Actually, I didn't do nothing--we registered last night, which means I was on my feet for two solid hours while we wandered Babies R Us, and that's the longest I've stood in a LONG time.)

The Angels game is on now, bottom of the 7th, so I doubt Dan will even think about bed until the game is over. I don't think it'll be hard to cajole him into going to bed afterwards, though. The trick will be for me to make it that long.

Friday, September 16, 2005

So quaint!

Having grown up in a church where the weekly attendence was more than the permanent population of many decent-sized suburbs, there are often things at our little 900 attendees church that strike me as being so quaint and traditional. Case in point: the photo directory. Dan and I just got back from having our picture taken for the directory, and Dan laughed at me when I mused about how fun it was to be in a small church. (Talk about relative: to Dan, this is a big church.) But honestly, to be able to print an entire church's membership in a booklet smaller than the Yellow Pages is such a foreign concept--and I LOVE it. I won't ever knock my church upbringing, despite how much I may disagree with certain aspects of it--bottom line is, my family is where it is because of that church, and I can't be grateful or thankful enough for it--but I have to say that the small church community is way more my speed. I love being able to recognize faces week after week, although it helps that I'm up on stage every other Sunday singing and can look at all those faces head-on, since otherwise my poor observational skills wouldn't remember half of them. I love it when the pastor can refer to a member by name and not have to give s hort biography of the person to give the name context--everyone already knows who he's talking about. I love that we have a Fellowship Hall, and that I've attended two birthday bashes there, because why not have your birthday party at the church? Everyone knows how to get there, and there's a kitchen and a sound system for the karaoke machine. I love that, when our child is born, we'll be able to appeal to the entire church body for their prayers and encouragement as we embark on first-time parenthood--and then know that people will actually come up and ask us how things are going and coo over our little bundle of joy.

The small church setting has its drawbacks, but I'd take those limitations over the endless resources of the megachurch anyday.

Edits!

So I got my edits back from my editor on Monday, and I was shocked (and mucho relieved) at how little actual rewriting she wanted me to do. Good thing, though, since they want the changes back in to them by Monday. Still not entirely sure that's going to happen. I'm going through and doing all the easy changes, then I'll go back and do the more time-consuming stuff, but even after that is done I need to go through and input all the changes I wanted to make myself. The problem is, I still haven't finished reading through the manuscript. Ugh. So I'm feeling a little under the gun here. (Which should be obvious given I'm procrastinating.) TOmorrow Dan is at a seminar at school all day, so I'm going to spend the entire day working on it, although that's sort of the plan for today as well. Once I finish checking my email and reading all my favorite blogs, that is. :)

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Cancel your TiVo!

Well, we've been temporarily bumped from TBN--they wanted to focus the show on Katrina and wanted us to "minister to the victims"--not exactly something that is up my alley, or Dad's. When we explained that neither "Worlds Collide" nor "Case for a Creator" have a whole lot to say on the themes of natural disasters and losing all of one's possessions, they agreed that rescheduling us would probably be the best idea. When I get our new date, I'll let you know.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Set your TiVo!

If you're looking for some family entertainment, check out "Praise the Lord" on Sept. 15 at 6PM PST on TBN. My dad and I will be two of the featured guests on their live talk show discussing our latest books and who knows what else.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Would love your input...

Since I don't know how many of you regularly read my pregnancy blog, I wanted to direct your attention to a post I just wrote there. I'd love to get everyone's input and ideas. Take a peek and drop me a comment if you can think of any other time capsule ideas!

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Christmas Vacation!

Remember the first Monday of Christmas vacation, when you woke up and realized "Wow, vacation is really here; I really don't have to go to school for two whole weeks!" And then you throw off the covers and jump out of bed and your head fills up with all the things you can't wait to do now that you have time, and you're in the best mood, because your finals are through and your classes are done and when you go back to school it'll be a fresh start with new classes and people and schedules. Well, THAT is how I feel this morning--to the extent of swearing before I opened my eyes that there would be snow on the ground. (Although I don't remember ever being able to wear shorts and a tank top at Christmas. I'm pretty sure I heard rain in the middle of the night, though.) Having finished that rough draft took such a huge load off my shoulders. And even though the process is far from done--lots of editing still to come--I get a nice little break before I have to start, and I feel like I have all the time in the world.

So of course once it hit you that you had two whole weeks, you made a list, didn't you, of all the things you were going to do with your time. And so have I, although I don't quite know how much time I have, so the list is pretty flexible. But still, I love lists and wouldn't think of approaching this new time without one. On the list we have:
-plan a baby shower (no, not my own--for my friend Tania whose baby is due at Halloween)
-catch up on the laundry and get a new system going that does not allow the corner of our office to look like a dresser exploded (yes, the clothes are in the office because we turned the master bedroom into our office--who needs a giant room for a bed when all you do is sleep in there?)
-make all those get-together-for-coffee appointments I've been putting off
-clean the office

This last one is the source of night terrors for me. See, we don't really have any storage in that room--we have wonderful storage plans, just nothing actually done because that, of course, takes money. So, because we lack storage, we lack organization, and because we lack organization, every flat surface of that room becomes a catch-all for books, papers, pictures, office supplies, loose change, extra buttons--you name it. I've been using the recliner in the family room as my writing area (thank heavens for laptops!) for months because I can't actually see the surface of my desk. And actually, the space on the floor around my desk is just as bad, to where I can barely even get to the desk itself without risking life and limb. This simply must stop. I can't allow myself to continue like this any longer. A woman needs her creative space, and it really shouldn't be smack in front of the television.

So I'm totally pumped. I'm going to go ride the stationary bike upstairs for a bit, take my shower, do my quiet time, and then hit that list! Three cheers for pseudo-vacation!

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

HALLELUJAH!

Ladies and gentlemen, please note the date and time. 12:44 PM PST, August 30, 2005. 35 hours and fifteen minutes before my deadline.

THE BOOK IS DONE.

I can hardly believe it. This process has been so incredibly different from the first with "Worlds Collide," and not, sadly, in a good way. I'm really hoping the trend doesn't follow this one. I'm sure part of it was the difference between writing for the heck of it in my spare time versus writing under a deadline. But if this is going to be my career--and I'm really praying it is--I'm going to have to find a way to make this whole writing-under-a-deadline thing work.

Anyway. It's done and that's all I care about. I'm off to celebrate. Adios!

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

My Kind of Town...the Aftermath

Ahhh, the food! And I got those chocolate crepes I was hoping for--they actually have them back on the menu! Woohoo! Anyway, I'm paying the price now...I gained four pounds over the last six days from all the glorious gastrological goodies I consumed. (Did I ever mention the four episodes of IHOP chocolate chip pancakes?) Oh well. Only a few more days and I'll be able to resume my morning walks around the lake, which will hopfully burn up some of that pizza...and chocolate...and Maggiano's...and more chocolate....

Monday, August 22, 2005

Oops.

So we managed to get through our entire trip without any major mistakes, things forgotten at home, etc. Well, almost all the way through--looks like I'll be getting a new computer soon.

We were returning the rental car to Alamo, and the place was a zoo. Cars everywhere, no staff to tell you what to do, and darnit, there's the bus that we'd really like to catch to the terminal so we have plenty of time for dinner before the flight. Finally someone shows up, and we hurry hurry through the check-out process, grab our stuff, and dash (or waddle quickly, if you're me) to the bus. We toss everything onto the luggage rack, sink into some seats, and then I realize something's missing.

"Dan! The computer! Where is it?!"

Off the bus he jumps and hits the ground running as the car is being pulled away to wherever it is they take returned rental cars. Luckily, the computer was not in the car--which got away before he could get to it--but had been left by both of us on the ground, each thinking the other was going to grab it. I see him bringing it back, and I sigh with relief, until he holds it up and says, "It got ran over."

Now, I've had this leather computer case for a couple years, and the leather has never broken in. A note to those of you looking for a way to make leather look old: run over it. Just once; don't even need to go over and over it. The thing looks fifteen years old.

Anyway, Dan pulls my little computer out and turns it over in his hands--"Looks good!" Nothing cracked, all in one piece. Whew!

Fast-forward seven and a half hours. We're back home, reveling in our Dish Network and squishy couch and the knowledge that we'll be sleeping in our own bed tonight. I pull out my brave little computer, flip it open, turn it on...

"Hm. What's with this two inch strip of screwed-up-ness smack in the middle of the screen?"

Yes, stretching all the way across the screen, and almost exactly centered, is...well...lines. They're a lovely turquoise, which is nice, because if you have to have a screen with a line in the middle that makes it impossible to see what's under it, you want it to be a pleasant shade.

Thank God, the rest of the computer is fine. Everything opens great, nothing has been deleted--I just have half a screen to work on, which sucks when your computer is only about seven inches tall in the first place.

So hey, DEFINITELY coulda been worse, but I have to admit, turquoise is ever-so-slowly starting to get on my nerves....

The Wedding, Part 2

Last night was the second reception for Kyle and Kelli. It was SO much fun to see all the relatives and friends of the family--some of whom still hadn't met Dan, much less Kelli! We had it at Maggiano's--home of YUM--and despite some audio/visual issues, we were able to show everyone pictures of the wedding and of their honeymoon to Bampff, Canada. Of course, something always has to go awry, and unfortunately it was Kelli's parents who had to endure it--their luggage didn't make it to Chicago until 4 hours after they did! Of course, 4 hours after they got there is when the reception started, so they ended up having to shop at Woodfield Mall (luckily right near Maggiano's and their hotel) to get outfits to wear. But they handled the stress swimmingly and looking at them you never would have known anything was the matter, so that was a relief.

Dan and I left the reception around 9:30, by which time all the fun stuff (i.e. bookstores) had already closed, so we went back to the hotel to pack to come home. After we finished we realized we were hungry, so we went to our second home-away-from-home: the IHOP next door.

Oh my, the characters that show up at IHOP in the wee hours (it was midnight by the time we went over there) provide enough fodder for ten volumes of short stories. There was the family of 6--three kids, two parents, and an infant--whose table was next to ours. The three kids were falling asleep at the table, and the baby was wide awake. I wanted to go over and ask why the heck they were out so late, since the kids were obviously not pleased to be there. Then there was the guy behind us who had four--yes, four--full dinners lined up on his table. He was in the process of finishing a bowl of soup when we got there, and then all of a sudden a whole tray of food gets delivered to him. Fifteen minutes later we hear the waitress tell him, "Your chicken will be out in just a minute." So now it's up to five dinners. And a bowl of soup. And he wasn't a big guy, so I don't know where he was putting it all, although the why of the situation fascinates me a whole lot more. On the other side of the partition from us was an older gentleman, all alone, who sat drinking coffee and reading a book the whole time, and behind him were three Middle Eastern women with their beautiful head scarves, talking and laughing about someone's wedding--"When I got married, everyone cried. Even the men. Even my father cried!"

After consuming the fourth short stack of chocolate chip pancakes that I've had since we arrived here, we made our way back to the hotel for our final night. Words cannot describe how much I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight, with my own pillows--especially my muscle-saving body pillow. Hotel beds always, always suck--at least when you're on a $70/night budget.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

My Kind of Town...

Dan and I have been in Chicago since Tuesday. Actually, to be specific, we've been in the northwest suburbs, a.k.a. my old stomping ground, since Tuesday--we've yet to actually make it into the city. We had all sorts of grand plans for touring Chi-town, but with the Air & Water show going on, it's a zoo out there!

So far the bulk of the trip has revolved around two things: food and friends. There were/are still lots of people who haven't even met Dan yet, so we've been doing a lot of meet & greets with my old high school & church friends. We've also been gobbling up all the great food that California just doesn't have. For example:

1. Chin's Crab House: this place is phenomenal in every sense of the word. Fantastic seafood, and fantastic steaks, too--in fact, they sell more steak than any other restaurant in the city! Delicious egg rolls, which we consumed two baskets of, and the fried jumbo shimp...oh my heavens!!

2. Edwardo's Chicago Pizza: okay, I will admit there are, like, three variations on Chicago-style pizza, but I'm sorry, California just doesn't have any of them, despite some valiant efforts. Edwardo's is my all-time favorite. The outside crust is a good two inches tall, and you've never seen so much cheese!! The Strobel family favorite is spinach with mushrooms and Canadian bacon. I had three pieces. I felt like a junkie getting a fix after being in rehab--I just couldn't stop! Of course, I still had room for dessert--I've always claimed to have a separate dessert stomach--so we also went to...

3. Oberweiss Dairy: forget all that low-fat or low-carb ice cream crap. This place uses FULL CREAM and MAN is it good! Peanut butter & chocolate was my choice, and wow. WOW. Head & shoulders above 31 Flavors, or anything you can get in the grocery store.

4. Okay, well, I haven't done this one yet, and there's a chance I won't get to, but I'm going to really try!! Walker Brothers Pancake House used to have a crepe breakfast of chocolate filled crepes with strawberries and whipped cream on top. Now, they took it off the menu after I moved (I was probably the only person left in the world who thought that an acceptable breakfast), but every time I go there I explain how it was always my favorite and ask the waitress to beg the chef to take mercy on me. So far they always have! I'm going to try to get there tomorrow for breakfast, but only if I can find someone to go with me.

On a completely unrelated note: 91 octane gas is $3.11 up the street from our hotel. I was in shock. Thankfully our little Grand Am rental takes the cheap stuff, but I really was surprised--it was the first time I've seen stuff like that more expensive here than in California. (Although, I suppose the prices might have gone up since we left. Man, I hope not. It was taking over forty bucks to fill our Murano when it was under three dollars!)

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Another August Anniversary

Congratulations to Kyle and Kelli! Yesterday my brother married the coolest girl in the world. It was a beautiful wedding in the scorching heat of Bakersfield, California. (We all thought a 10 AM wedding would avoid it, and while I'm sure it avoided the worst of it, it certainly wasn't what you'd call cool outside, although the wedding party got the best deal--we got to stand in the shade).

It's a weird thing to see your little brother wax eloquent about his new bride. He was such a grown-up! IS such a grown-up. I have a hard time believing that sometimes. When you've got years of stored up memories about the goofy kid who made a cottage industry out of trading ("I'll trade you that stereo for..." Actually, I don't know what he ever offered in his trades, he never had anything good--yet he always managed to make out like a bandit. And this was in, like, fourth grade!), who sported silk shirts and Cavaricci pants in junior high, who made mixed tapes with the best romantic songs ever and titled them things like, "Songs That Remind Me I Have No One," it's hard to envision him now as a man with a wife and a real life of his own.

I was a mess at the wedding. I suppose this shouldn't have come as a surprise to me, given the emotional basket case I've been lately. But the worst part is that the tears just would not stop! It started the minute I got to my spot in the shade, staring at the guests as everyone else came down the aisle, got worse when they exchanged their beautiful vows, hit critical when they took communion together and Kyle whispered a prayer into her ear, and, if I'd been smart, I would have found a secret place somewhere and just let it all out. But no, I had to try to be a strong woman and cork the tears and soldier on. WHATEVER. Into the reception and again I'm foiled: the toasts from Kelli's father and my brother, the speeches by various wedding party members (I'd planned on saying a few words--yeah right) and then the wedding party dance, which I got to dance with my husband. Yeah, a dance, that got me going again. Pathetic. Weep weep weep, sniff sniff sniff, blubber, blubber, blubber. Gag me.

But it was worth it. Now I have a sister! Always wanted one of those, but luckily we got each other without the messy adolescent years of hating each other and constantly competing for Mom and Dad's attention. :) I'm so blessed to have a sister-in-law that I not only get along with, but that I love. So, Kelli, welcome to the family. It takes a special person to blend in with our nutty clan, and you've got just the right combination of practicality, sense of humor, and quirkiness to make it. I can't wait to get to know you better, and I'm so thankful God brought you and Kyle together. We love you, Mrs. Strobel!

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Happy Anniversary!

Wow. Today marks the end of Dan's and my second year of marriage. I can't believe it's already been two years. And on Saturday my brother, Kyle, will get married to the totally awesome Kelli, and on Friday Mom and Dad celebrate their 33rd year of holy matrimony. August is definitely the month for weddings in the Strobel household.

Dan and I are pretty much broke at the moment, so we promised each other no gifts. Dan, of course, cheated--he did this last year, too--and bought me a beautiful purple orchid and a gift bag filled with all sorts of silly goodies that are not romantic in and of themselves, but are romantic in that they show how attentive and observant he is of me and the things I like and need. I came down for a 2 AM bowl of cereal and saw them sitting on the counter and, being the emotional wreck I am these days (thanks, hormones), burst into tears and blubbered my way through my Corn Pops.

I think I was able to make up for not having gotten him something, though--check out My Pregnancy Blog to see the picture that was waiting for him on his desk when he got up this morning....

Monday, August 01, 2005

Halfway there!

Well, I officially surpassed the halfway mark for my minimum word requirement on my current manuscript! Unfortunately I think I'm more than halfway through, outline-wise, so I'm going to have to start stretching these last chapters. :) If I write 2000 words a day for the next three weeks, I'll reach my goal of finishing the book by the end of the month. (Well, clarification: if the story only last for 70,000 words, then I'll be done by the end of the month. If it takes longer, I'm screwed.) Hallelujah for flexible editors, though; Shannon said she'd work with me if I didn't quite make it by September 1. I think I can do it, though.

We leave the 16th for a week in Chicago--my little brother (heh, little--he's 27) gets married the 13th here in California, then we're all schlepping to Chicago for a second reception for everyone who can't make it out here the 13th. Dan and I are turning it into a little vacation, so we're going out early to be tourists and for him to meet all my friends out there that he still hasn't met after two years. (Our anniversary is the 9th of this month!!) I won't be able to write that week, but I'm going to do something I haven't done before with a manuscript, and that's print it out and read it like a book instead of just reading it off my computer. I figure I'm always editing the books I read without a problem, so maybe it'll be easier editing my own stuff if it's on paper and not on a screen. We'll see if it works. If nothing else, it'll give me something to do on the plane.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Fun new test!

Oh, my favorite...here's a great grammar, punctuation, and vocabulary test. Think you know the English language well? Test yourself. Here are my results:

You did so extremely well, even I can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly! Way to go!

Now I have to go look at the answer key and figure out which one(s) I screwed up!

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Feelin' hot hot hot

Dan and I drove out to Vegas again this past Wednesday to hang out with his brother and his family. The original plan was to drive to the Grand Canyon while we were there--his brother just bought a Honda Oddessy and it's got the cool DVD player and super comfy seating--but after a bit more research we decided to save it for a time when we could spend the night there at one of the lodges and really take the place in. So instead we just hung out at their place.

We like their place. It's homey and comfortable, the AC is always cranked, and there's endless fun now that Simon is two and a half. Man, is that kid's vocabulary growing! And it's so cute, he says everything twice: "Play legos play legos?" "Wanna eat wanna eat?" "Where go where go?" He's being potty-trained, so they've got his little potty set up in the living room where he does most of his playing, and when he's gone he'll jump up and throw his hands in the air and shout, "I did it!" like he just ran a triathalon or something. It's hilarious.

He also does this intense love-you thing where he just gets so incredibly excited that you're there and playing with him that his eyes get all big and his face looks almost violent, and he'll just squeeze your cheeks or arm or leg or whatever is closest. It's hilarious. Until he pinches hard--kid's strong for two years old!

So anyway, Vegas, being in the desert and all, was FREAKING HOT. Like, unbelievably, indescribably hot. At one point our car's thermometer said 120. Sometimes the a/c would be on full-blast and wouldn't feel at ALL cold. You could practically feel your body losing moisture. Every day was at least 105. It was a truly incredible experience. I don't know how people can live there, honestly. I mean, I suppose you get used to it when you've been there your whole life, or if you are there longer than 4 days at a time like us. But wow...there are some things I really just don't want to have to "get used to," and feeling as though the soles of my shoes are melting to the pavement is one of them.

So once again I am so happy to live where I live. Today it was in the low 80's, which didn't feel nearly as hot as it usually does given the heat we were in yesterday. But now the sun is slowly setting and the temperature is dipping; the windows and doors are open and we have a nice breeze floating through. Beautiful. California is so cool. :)

Tuesday, July 12, 2005

CBA

This weekend I was in Denver to meet with all sorts of various folks before the onslaught of the CBA convention madness. (CBA = Christian Bookseller's Association) The convention actually started at the same time I was boarding a SuperShuttle to go back to the airport and come home, so I missed out on touring the convention floor and snatching up all the wacky freebies at the exhibitor booths. But I did have some fantastic meetings and managed to get my name and book out there to some retailers, so hopefully that will help sales in some small way. I was given a super-tenative, super-ballpark figure for my current sales, and found that I need to sell about 11,000 more units before I break into royalties. Oi. Hopefully that was a lowballed figure!

The best part of the weekend, by far, was the total miracle God wrought in my stomach. Ever since I was 6 I've suffered from motion sickness when I fly. I've always just popped some Dramamine and been fine, but you can't take it when you're pregnant, so I was totally freaking out about the flight. And then it turned out I had layovers both on the way there and the way back, which meant a total of 4 takeoffs and 4 landings. Needless to say, I was convinced I'd be puking my way to the Mile High City and back. Before I left, Dan and I raided Wal*Mart for snacks, my theory being, if I gave my stomach something to chew on, I wouldn't get nauseated. So my carry on bag was filled to the brim with Goldfish crackers, Combos, peanut M&M's, Pringles, Finding Nemo fruit snacks, and those little mini boxes of cereal.

On the way to the airport, my mom told me to concentrate on deep breathing, so I didn't get myself all nervous and worked up. I figured, between the food, the pressure bracelet thingies I bought, and the breathing, I might just make it.

I completely forgot to wear the pressure bracelets, and I hardly ate anything on the flight, but it didn't even matter: I didn't get sick at all!! I put on my Walkman, cranked up Simon & Garfunkel's Greatest Hits (almost always the first thing I listen to when I fly) and settled back into my deep breathing, and PRAYED LIKE MAD that I wouldn't get sick. AND I DIDN'T.

Now, you need to understand that, typically, I'll still feel a little queazy when I take the Dramamine. But this time there was nothing, except for a teensy bit on the way home when we hit some crazy turbulence. Usually that would have had my face in one of those throw-up bags, but not this time! I am convinved that God had mercy on my poor weak tummy and totally hooked me up. He's so freaking awesome!

'Course, now I have an entire bag of snacks. Anyone hungry?

Monday, July 04, 2005

God Bless the USA

I can hear two different fireworks shows in the general vicinity, and the neighbors in the house behind ours must be up on their balcony watching, because they keep cheering and shouting, "Higher!" Then, just a minute ago, they started singing the National Anthem. How cool. I love it when stuff like that happens.

Last night Dan and I went for a walk around the RSM Lake, and people had already laid out their picnic blankets and lawn chairs to stake their spot for the show tonight. I love that I live in a place where you can leave your stuff there overnight and not worry about it being gone in the morning. Today when we drove by it looked like a giant crazy quilt with big green gaps where people knew you couldn't see the show well and the grass was still clear. A couple years ago Dan and I claimed a spot around noon and spent the whole day there, playing Boggle and Scrabble and Yahtzee and cards and eating picnic meals, then watched with the rest of the city as the fireworks exploded over the lake. I'm such a sucker for fireworks, don't ask me why. For some reason they're romantic to me. Last year we listened to the explosions while playing badmitton in the backyard (lit with tiki torches at the corners of the court) as the neighbor kids above us gave a running commentary of what they could see from their balcony. This year we watched the Angels lose on TV and I paid bills. Geez, we sound like old geezers.

Next year we'll have a six-month-old and who knows what the heck we'll be doing. Probably not watching a fireworks show since the kid would freak out at the noise, I'm sure. But how weird is that? That at this time next year our baby will already be six months old. I was nearly walking at six months. I can't imagine chasing a baby around that early. Heck, I can't imagine having a baby!

But anyway, I digress, which seems to happen a lot these days. Chalk it up to a distracted one-track mind. The reason I was writing originally was to say: Happy Birthday USA. Thank you, President Bush. God bless you, men and women of the US military, who have to deal with crap not only in other countries but then here at home, too. I don't care what you think about the war: support the people doing their jobs in fighting it. They knew what they were getting into, they weren't drafted, they weren't coerced, and face it, Hussein was hardly a benevolent leader. Just because things aren't going as well as hoped doesn't mean we shouldn't have gone there in the first place. If our government went militant on us, I'd want someone to come rescue us, too.
whisperskids
Okay, so, I'm off the soapbox now and off to bed. Sleep well tonight knowing you're in a free country. God bless the USA....

Wednesday, June 29, 2005

New 'do

Well, I had this great haircut--the one in the photos on my website and in my profile here--but sadly it proved too complicated for someone as un-hair-savvy as myself. Plus thanks to the fact that my hair has been growing like crazy thanks to prenatal vitamins, I was having perpetual bad hair days. So yesterday I went under the scissors and chopped it off--the longest bit is now just at my chin, and pretty much all the layers are gone.

Changing my hair has always been one of my favorite ways to break up the relative monotony of my life. From haircuts to dyeing, I've never been shy when it comes to my hair. It's been past my shoulders and less than three inches long, stick straight and permed, burgandy and blond streaked and shoe polish black. And every once in a while it's the dull dark brown with a slight wave that I was born with.

But one of the many compromises of marriage has manifested itself in the way I fashion my hair. Now there's someone that I want to please and whose opinion I value. And frankly, he's got to look at me a lot more often than I do. So I can't just make a spur-of-the-moment appointment at the salon to have it all chopped off, can't swing by Target on the way home from wherever and pick up a bottle of Natural Instincts Spiced Tea temporary color. It's a small compromise, but a compromise nonetheless, and sometimes it chafes. But compared to the payoff of marriage, it's something I deal with.

And now, with Baby M on the way, I've been thinking about how weird it might be for my kid(s) to come home from school one day and see Mommy with red hair, or permed hair, or hardly any hair at all--all within one school year. And when my five-year-old emerges from her bedroom with scissors in her hand and a whole new 'do of her own, would I really be able to blame her? How about when my eight-year-old wants to dye his hair blue?

So the hair is short, and straight, and brown.

For now. :)

Thursday, June 16, 2005

Earthquake!

Well, I am officially a Californian--I felt my first earthquake! It was a 5.3, located out in the desert, but felt all the way down in San Diego. There have been about 3 in the past week--there was one back on Sunday while we were rehearsing before the service, but we didn't feel it on the stage (the sound guy at the back of the auditorium did, though), and there was another one the other day that we didn't feel; it was up in northern California, but a 7.0, which is big. (Fun fact: the intensity of the earthquake increases TEN FOLD with every whole point on the richter scale. So a 6.0 quake is ten times stronger than a 5.0.) But this one--holy cow! I SAW the house move! The ceiling fan shook, the blinds in the windows moved--I was kneeling on the floor and it make me sway! It lasted about 5 seconds. And what's really disorienting is that there's this sound that comes with it that sounds like a big gust of wind, so I'm sitting here thinking, "Is it wind that's doing this?"

Dan's just rolling his eyes at me. We're sitting there watching TV and he says, completely nonchalant, "Oh, earthquake." I, on the other hand, have my eyes nearly falling out of my face and my jaw on the floor, going nuts. Dan points to me and says, "Hm. Chicago--" points to himself--"California." Okay, yes, being completely unfamiliar with these events, I will admit I probably overreacted a bit. But come on! It's so cool! I'm sure I wouldn't have thought it was cool if things had broken, but whatever. Anyway, I feel baptised into the culture. Dan's just annoyed that they've taken off the U.S. Open to broadcast the news, which really just consists of visuals of the seismograph and taking calls from residents all over the area and saying the same info over and over.

Wednesday, June 15, 2005

I love lists!

Apparently the UK likes them, too--this is the second list of this kind that I've seen. The year I lived in Glasgow (1996-97) one of their bookstore chains came out with the same type of list, in conjunction with the BBC. I used that list the year I was there to fill some of my dead time (which I had a lot of since I was only taking 3 classes), and now I get to do it again! Here's the brand new list of the UK's Best-Loved Books (I believe they're voted on by the general public). I've got 42 of them covered (in bold--thanks to all those English classes in high school and college!)--how many have you read already.

The U.K.'s Best-Loved Novels

1. The Lord of the Rings, JRR Tolkien
2. Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
3. His Dark Materials, Philip Pullman
4. The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams
5. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, JK Rowling
6. To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee
7. Winnie the Pooh, AA Milne
8. Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell
9. The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, CS Lewis
10. Jane Eyre, Charlotte Brontë
11. Catch-22, Joseph Heller
12. Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë
13. Birdsong, Sebastian Faulks
14. Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier
15. The Catcher in the Rye, JD Salinger
16. The Wind in the Willows, Kenneth Grahame
17. Great Expectations, Charles Dickens
18. Little Women, Louisa May Alcott
19. Captain Corelli's Mandolin, Louis de Bernieres
20. War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
21. Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell
22. Harry Potter And The Philosopher's Stone, JK Rowling
23. Harry Potter And The Chamber Of Secrets, JK Rowling
24. Harry Potter And The Prisoner Of Azkaban, JK Rowling
25. The Hobbit, JRR Tolkien
26. Tess Of The D'Urbervilles, Thomas Hardy
27. Middlemarch, George Eliot
28. A Prayer For Owen Meany, John Irving
29. The Grapes Of Wrath, John Steinbeck
30. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, Lewis Carroll
31. The Story Of Tracy Beaker, Jacqueline Wilson
32. One Hundred Years Of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez
33. The Pillars Of The Earth, Ken Follett
34. David Copperfield, Charles Dickens
35. Charlie And The Chocolate Factory, Roald Dahl
36. Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson
37. A Town Like Alice, Nevil Shute
38. Persuasion, Jane Austen
39. Dune, Frank Herbert
40. Emma, Jane Austen
41. Anne Of Green Gables, LM Montgomery
42. Watership Down, Richard Adams
43. The Great Gatsby, F Scott Fitzgerald
44. The Count Of Monte Cristo, Alexandre Dumas
45. Brideshead Revisited, Evelyn Waugh
46. Animal Farm, George Orwell
47. A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens
48. Far From The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
49. Goodnight Mister Tom, Michelle Magorian
50. The Shell Seekers, Rosamunde Pilcher
51. The Secret Garden, Frances Hodgson Burnett
52. Of Mice And Men, John Steinbeck
53. The Stand, Stephen King
54. Anna Karenina, Leo Tolstoy
55. A Suitable Boy, Vikram Seth
56. The BFG, Roald Dahl
57. Swallows And Amazons, Arthur Ransome
58. Black Beauty, Anna Sewell
59. Artemis Fowl, Eoin Colfer
60. Crime And Punishment, Fyodor Dostoyevsky
61. Noughts And Crosses, Malorie Blackman
62. Memoirs Of A Geisha, Arthur Golden
63. A Tale Of Two Cities, Charles Dickens
64. The Thorn Birds, Colleen McCollough
65. Mort, Terry Pratchett
66. The Magic Faraway Tree, Enid Blyton
67. The Magus, John Fowles
68. Good Omens, Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman
69. Guards! Guards!, Terry Pratchett
70. Lord Of The Flies, William Golding
71. Perfume, Patrick Süskind
72. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, Robert Tressell
73. Night Watch, Terry Pratchett
74. Matilda, Roald Dahl
75. Bridget Jones's Diary, Helen Fielding
76. The Secret History, Donna Tartt
77. The Woman In White, Wilkie Collins
78. Ulysses, James Joyce
79. Bleak House, Charles Dickens
80. Double Act, Jacqueline Wilson
81. The Twits, Roald Dahl
82. I Capture The Castle, Dodie Smith
83. Holes, Louis Sachar
84. Gormenghast, Mervyn Peake
85. The God Of Small Things, Arundhati Roy
86. Vicky Angel, Jacqueline Wilson
87. Brave New World, Aldous Huxley
88. Cold Comfort Farm, Stella Gibbons
89. Magician, Raymond E Feist
90. On The Road, Jack Kerouac
91. The Godfather, Mario Puzo
92. The Clan Of The Cave Bear, Jean M Auel
93. The Colour Of Magic, Terry Pratchett
94. The Alchemist, Paulo Coelho
95. Katherine, Anya Seton
96. Kane And Abel, Jeffrey Archer
97. Love In The Time Of Cholera, Gabriel García Márquez
98. Girls In Love, Jacqueline Wilson
99. The Princess Diaries, Meg Cabot
100. Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Circle of Life

This whole pregnancy thing has made me pretty noastlgic and contemplative lately. One of the things that has been on my mind a lot is my Grandmother Strobel, whom we called "Meama." (Kyle's pronounciation of "grandma" when he was little.) Meama died right before New Year's Eve, 2003 from liver cancer. She had other great-grandkids, so it's not like she didn't get a chance to see any of them, but she won't get the chance to see mine, and I'm finding that really sucks.

Dan got to see Meama twice before she died. Our whole family went out to Chicago that May to see her, which was the first time Dan met her, and then again that October, when we brought her photos of the wedding since she couldn't be there. But I'm mad now that they won't get the chance to enjoy their mutual obsession together: golf.

Until I married Dan, I thought Meama was nuts to tape golf tournaments when she wouldn't be home to watch them live. I couldn't imagine sitting there watching hour after hour of a little white ball hopping around the monotonous stretches of green. Now I watch with Dan all the time and I totally get it, but I can't appreciate it the way he does, because I can't play worth a darn. Meama, on the other hand, was club champion many times over, an avid golfer whose entire social life centered around her country club friends and foursomes. She would have been so happy to have a golf watching friend like Dan. She would have taken him out to the club and showed him off to her friends--she had no problem with bragging about her family to anyone who would listen--and together they would have discussed green speeds, yardage, swing styles, their favorite clubs. I would have been bored out of my mind, but they would have been in their element.

Death just sucks, you know? We say it's natural, part of the circle of life, but really it isn't. We weren't meant to die, remember? Death came from the fall, it wasn't part of the original blueprint, and I think there's still a thread in us that remembers this and knows that it is not natural, that this isn't the way it was originally supposed to be. It's just wrong.

So now I have to settle for memories, and my baby has to settle for second-hand stories. Not fair.

Thursday, June 02, 2005

New blog!

Well, I promised myself I wasn't going to let my blog become a pregnancy blog, but it looks like I'm failing at that, so I decided to start a new blog for all my baby stuff. I've moved the baby-related blogs from this journal to that one, and promise to keep this one strictly writer related!

(Hm...can't get the link to work for some reason...it's gobabymorrow.blogspot.com.)

LOST: one brain

LOST: one brain, medium-sized, grayish-pink, wrinkled. Right hemisphere slightly more developed. Believed to have been lost back in April when I got pregnant. Contained important information, like where my favorite brown sweater is, how to spell words I normally could spell in my sleep, and most of my friends' birthdays and last names. If found, please return immediately.

Sunday, May 22, 2005

Think, type, ponder, type, daydream, type, blog...

I've started my second novel over from scratch. Given I already had nearly 200 pages on the first draft, this is pretty scary. Well, scary in the sense that I now have six months to write and edit an entire book rather than just the second half, but on the other hand, I think it's going to go a lot faster than the other one was.

You just know when a manuscript is working and when it isn't. When it is, the ideas flow (for the most part), and things seem to fit together before you even try to engineer them that way. When it doesn't work, it's like trying to jam the proverbial square peg into a round hole. I've known for a long, long time that this manuscript was one giant square peg, but I kept hammering away, thinking I could chip the corners off and make it fit. Silly me. Even when you shear off the edges, you still essentally have a square--you've just mutilated it and tried to make it into something it's not, and that's hardly the way to treat a perfectly innocent story.

So today I opened a new document and started afresh. I think it's going well, but I keep getting caught up in the details of the original draft, and forget I don't have to make them all the same in this new version. So what if six years lapsed in the first one? That was an arbitrary number when I first wrote it, I don't have to keep it if I don't want to. Yet when I try to change it, it feels like I'm altering reality, like somehow the reader is going to know I fiddled with things, so instead of going with the flow of the new version, I keep stalling and procrastinating between paragraphs. I think I just need time after each new bout of writing to get used to the new story; hopefully it is slowly replacing the memory of the original.

We'll see what happens.....

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Sometimes 100% still isn't enough

I think I may have mentioned this before: I often refer to myself as 80% Girl. I do not mean that the other 20% of me is not girl. I mean that I tend to only go 80% of the way on things. There are very few things in life for which I will go all-out, no-holds-barred. I lack the drive to complete things. It is a character flaw evident in the many half-completed art and craft projects that I've stumbled across lately--cross-stitch patterns with only one color done, sketches that are missing integral components, boxes of supplies purchased for projects that never even got started. I'm big on ideas and not so big on the follow-through.

Well, almost a year and a half ago I found something that I thought I'd go 100% into: a direct-sales jewelry company that some colleagues at school worked for. It did not appear at first glance to be a good fit for me: I wore the same four pairs of earrings over and over, donned a necklace only on special occasions, and always forgot to put my wedding and engagement rings on after taking them off. But I liked the idea of working for myself, of doing the shows, of running my own little business, and there had always been that bit of me that liked being all dressed up and pretty. It also didn't hurt to see up-close and first-hand the profits some of these women were making. I thought to myself, "I've gotten fairly decent returns in the past for my 80%--just think what I could do if I went all the way!"

So I did. I spent a lot of money, a lot of time, and a lot of effort to get my business off the ground. And when I did shows, I was great. I really was. I had so much fun, and people always told me that I was good at what I did. For once, I was pulling out all the stops, and I couldn't help but dream of how far I'd go with the company.

But I found out that sometimes giving 100% isn't enough, and there isn't anything you can do about it. There are always factors beyond our control, and it turned out that there were too many of them getting in my way. At first I felt really bad about myself--I'd always blamed my lack of success in certain areas to the fact that I held back that 20%, and while I'm sure I could have succeeded more than I did, there's no guarantee I'd have reached every goal I ever dreamed of setting for myself.

So this week I decided to stop being an active consultant. I'm not folding altogether--I'm just not pursuing shows and sales anymore. And really, it sucks. I'd been really excited at the potential the job offered, and like I said, I had a fantastic time. But eventually you realize that your output isn't balancing your returns, and there comes a time to cut your losses.

So yeah, it's bumming me out. But at the same time, I'm glad I figured this out, because someday my kid is going to come to me crying because he/she did absolutely everything possible and still didn't reach their goal, and I want to be able to say to them, "It's okay! You're not a failure!" And it's one thing to say that to someone, and another thing to have lived it and speak from experience.

Saturday, May 07, 2005

Oh really?

When I spellchecked my "Mysteries of the Freeway" entry, blogger.com suggested I replace "serenading" with "cremating."

???

Mysteries of the Freeway

Roadtripped with my mom yesterday to California's heartland--Bakersfield! Over the infamous Grapevine we went, getting caught in some nasty rain and emerging in the other side into a weird hybrid of Midwestern farmland and California mountains. Had it not been for the rocky horizon, we could have been on the highway I used to take from my Chicago-suburb home to U of Illinois--nothing but cornfields and the occasional house. Beautiful land, though.

On the way back, the I-5 took us through the cement jungle of Los Angeles, and it was there that we began to contemplate the Mysteries of the Freeway. With Carole King and Peter Gabriel serenading us, we discussed the conundrums of the highway:

1. With a shoulder merely a few feet wide and the majority of California drivers being borderline homicidal, how does graffiti get onto the side walls? How does one get to the side of the road without getting hit, or at least witnessed by the hundreds of drivers careening down the freeway every minute, since the I-5 is NEVER empty in LA? And then how does one have the audacity to sit there in plain view of thousands and tag the wall with their nonsensical letters?

2. Loosely connected to #1: how does graffiti get onto the overpasses? For the writing to be right-side-up to those of us on the road, the taggers must be writing upside-down, and in some cases, hanging from something, given how far down they write. Again, how do they do this without being seen? I think I'd notice someone hanging over the bridge I was about to drive beneath.

3. Despite my best intentions and most tenderloving attention, I can't get plants to grow. My thumb is beyond black. And yet, against these walls along the freeway that are miraculously graffittied, there are the most beautiful flowers and bushes and vines. What are they spiking their Miracle-Gro with to combat the exhaust these poor plants are constantly battling? Heck, half the time there aren't even sprinklers!

4. This one can also be cross-posted to the "Mysteries of the Grocery Store" list: why does it NEVER FAIL that, the minute I move into the lane that has been passing me at the speed of lightning, the fast lane grinds to a total halt, and my previous lane moves into warp speed?

5. How is it that the most deadlocked traffic can untangle and loosen for absolutely no reason at all? For that matter, why does it get deadlocked for no reason in the first place? It is as though 20% of the cars disappear off the road and no one notices; they just realize, "Hey, things are finally moving!" Buy WHY? WHY are they finally moving? WHAT HAPPENED??

We have no answers. The more we contemplated, the more confused we became. But as the three-laned potholed and littered LA portion of the I-5 gave way to the six-laned clean and smooth Orange Country stretch (gotta love Disney money), we shook our heads and gave up our ponderings and rocked out instead to the live version of "In Your Eyes." I guess some things will never be understood. They are, as my husband would say, mysteries wrapped in enigmas wrapped in bacon. Yum.

Thursday, May 05, 2005

I got used!

I spoke at my old school's 8th grade chapel this morning. I've known about this for months, yet I waited until this week to really polish up my talk, which I thought was going to be a beefed-up version of a talk I did for the elementary kids earlier in the year. But when I tried to fix it up, I couldn't seem to do it. All these other thoughts--about how they're about to go into the big bad world of high school, how so many of them have been in this small Christian school for their entire school lives, how some of them, even after all the Bible memorization and chapels, still aren't Christians--kept invading my head as I'd try to work on that talk, and it just seemed so inconsequential when they were facing such huge changes. So finally, last night, I wrote a new talk, styling it like a prayer. "God, you know how I'm supposed to do this 8th grade chapel Thursday morning? Well, it's Wednesday night, and I still don't know what to talk about..." Then I devoted a little time to hashing out all the fears and concerns and desires I had for these kids, some of whom I feel rather connected to as they were in my very first class, and laid it out as though I was asking God to tell me which topic to pursue for the presentation. It was way shorter than the talks I usually do, and even after I was finished with it I felt like it was a cop-out. But that's all I seemed to have, so what was I going to do?

Well, God did His thing and it turned out incredible. First of all, the worship set was longer than usual, 5 songs, and the teacher that led it, Doug Harrison, chose the most awesome songs and brought the kids from fun, upbeat worship into contemplative, soul-seeking worship. Then I got up and almost lost it. My emotions have been on ultra-high lately, and between that worship set, the knowledge that my little babies were going to high school, and my fragile emotional state, I had to fight not to burst into tears for the entire ten minutes of my talk. (Actually, there was a rather substantial pause between my opening, "Dear God," and the next line, because I couldn't get myself together.) But I really felt like God was super-charging my words, and that it was going really well, and all was great until the closing line, and then I lost it again.

But then something cool happened. I just started talking. All I could say at first, in a strangled whisper as my throat closed with tears, was "God loves you." And then words kept coming, mostly reiterations and restatements of things I'd said in my talk, but some new stuff, too, and while I don't know if it was my words or the fact that I was sitting there in front of them with tears streaming down my face, I know I definitely had their attention. Heck, I think some of the teachers even got a little teary-eyed.

I wrapped it up somehow; I don't even remember what I said, but when it was over the principal, a really stellar guy, told me it was the perfect thing for them to hear. Some of the teachers told me that, too. I don't know if it really sank in--these are 8th graders, you know--but I know God did something, and as embarrassing as it was to sit in front of them and weep, it's a small price to pay if it planted a seed in someone.

Friday, April 29, 2005

Random

I was clicking that little "next blog" button I talked about earlier this week, just killing time, and the first eight blogs it took me to were written in languages other than English. For a second I felt like such an outsider. It was weird. The ninth one was English, but, like, some bizarre dialect that I guess the hip kids are speaking these days with all sorts of unidentifiable slang sprinkled through it and words spelled all funky. I took it as a sign that the blog world didn't want me around and went and played computer mahjong instead.

Tomorrow Dad and I are doing a reading, Q & A, and book signing at the local Borders Bookstore. I went through the prologue and first chapter to figure out what to read; funny how little of what is in there is absolutely necessary to the telling of the story. Quite a lesson in editing. I have about 12 minutes of material, which will probably stretch closer to 15 if I read at a slower, easier-to-follow pace. ('Course, it'll most likely end up being more like 10 because I'll get nervous and read too fast.) One funny thing, though: Grace, the main female character, goes to Barnes & Noble. And I'm reading it at Borders. Not sure if I should just say "Borders" so I don't feel guilty for product-placing their competition, or just say Barnes & Noble and apologize...

Monday, April 25, 2005

Free Your Books!!

This is the absolute best idea I've seen in a long, long time. It's called "Bookcrossing." The basic concept: turn the world at large into one giant lending library. How does it work? Basically, you take a book that you want to "release into the wild," and register it at bookcrossing.com. They give you a unique tracking number for the book, which you write on the inside cover, along with the website's url. Then you leave the book somewhere--at your local coffee shop, at the grocery store, at church, at a bus stop, wherever you want--and when someone finds it, they go to the website, log in using the book's tracking number, and mark where they found the book. Then, when they're done reading it, they do the exact same thing. You can go to the website and look up the book you've released and see where in the world it's gone--you wouldn't believe all the countries where this is happening! From Afghanistan (currently listing 3 books in the wild) to Burkina Faso (I don't even know where that is, but they have 2 books) to Spain (1,389 books) to the good ole' US of A (16,002 books--but we have an unfair advantage since we started the program). You can click on a country and go all the way down to the city level to see how many books are currently listed as being there--here in RSM there are apparently 7 floating around. And guess what?! Two members have "Worlds Collide" listed as being in their possession!

There's a lot more to the site than just this; go take a look so you can see what all they do. For those of us who consider reading to be more important than, say, eating, this is a dream come true. I can't wait to release some of my books into the wild!

Tell me who I am!

*It has come to my attention that you can barely see the text in the table I've included--I'm trying to figure out how to change it but so far have had no luck. Sorry!!*

I'm a sucker for profiles and personality tests--it's why I joined eHarmony in the first place, to get that free personality profile! Robin Lee Hatcher had a link to this one on her blog, and of course I couldn't resist. Here are the results of the kind of American English I speak:

Your Linguistic Profile:



65% General American English

15% Upper Midwestern

15% Yankee

5% Dixie

0% Midwestern




5% Dixie, eh? Must be because I admitted to saying "y'all" on a frequent basis. Not even sure where I picked it up. Anyway, this site is great--another fantastic time-eating tool--they have tons of other profiles and quizzes. Knock yourself out!

Friday, April 22, 2005

More ways to kill time...

First we brought you Artpad.com. Now we draw your attention to the little button in the upper right-hand corner of the screen that says "Next Blog." It's been there since the day I started my blog, but I'd never clicked it until last night. It turns out there's no official "next blog;" it's not like they're in some particular sequence or anything. It just brings you to some other blogger.com blog. Once you're there, you click it again...and again...and again...and see all the bizarre and unreadable (because they're in Japanese, or Dutch, or Spanish, or whatever) blogs that the cybervillage has come up with. I had no idea how international blogger.com was until I saw all the non-English blogs out there; kind of eye-opening. Although, I suppose some of them could have been written by Americans; no reason they should give up their native language when they get here. Anyway, it was really kind of fascinating. Found one by a principal of a Seventh Day Adventist school who posted all the goofy things kids say (rasberries.blogspot.com, I believe) that had me laughing out loud. Found some rather disturbing ones; some really boring ones, and a lot of company ones, which was interesting. Never thought of using a blog for business. A lot of teachers, too, using them to update parents on classroom stuff; wish I'd thought of that back in the day.

Anyway, give it a shot and see what you get. But just so you know, if you hit the back button on your browser, it won't take you to the blog you just saw, it'll take you back to the blog you started on. So, like, if you deliberately come here, and then click the "next blog" five times, then hit the back button, it'll bring you back here. So make sure you're really done looking before moving on, or you may never find it again. (Although in some cases, that's a good thing.)

Saturday, April 16, 2005

Mother/daughter tag-team ministering

I'm such a numbskull. I forgot to blog about the coolest part of my day.

THis morning my mom and I spoke to over 100 women who are "spiritually mismatched" in their marriages--married to unbelieving husbands. I was a little unclear as to what I could share--they wanted my perspective, having lived in a family where my parents were unequally yoked, as the lingo goes, but I was only 4 when Mom became a Christian and Dad started his spiritual journey, so it's not like I have a whole lot of vivid memories to share. But the woman hosting the breakfast said that, since my book deals with that kind of relationship, too, she thought I might have something unique to add to the morning. Despite being clueless about what I'd actually say once I got there, I accepted the invitation, because they also wanted me to bring my book to sell, and how can I turn that down?

Well, the breakfast was awesome. God totally spoke through my mom--she's such an introvert that speaking to 20 people can completely rattle her, much less 100. But once the interview started, it was like she does this kind of thing all the time. Not a single "uh" or "um" out of her the whole time. And I used to always think that she and I were equally emotional, but she didn't cry the whole time--got teary-eyed, yes, but didn't choke up. I, on the other hand, was biting my tongue to keep from crying while she talked, and once it was my turn to answer questions, I managed to get to within 3 words of the end of my response before I lost it. And truly, I didn't feel at all inspired; I doubted I'd said anything noteworthy the whole five minutes I talked. But at the end a lot of women came up and thanked me, even when my mom wasn't right there next to me making them feel like, "Well, if I thank Leslie, I really should thank Alison, too." And then we sold our books--mom co-wrote "Surviving A Spiritual Mismatch in Marriage" with my dad a few years back--and signed them for the women, and in the end I sold more than she did. :) 'Course that's probably because the majority of them women already had Mom's book. But still!

I may have even gotten a second speaking gig out of it. One of the leaders of the women's ministry that hosted the event asked if I'd consider speaking to the women at the college ministry. Not sure what on exactly, but she said she'd have one of the leaders from that ministry give me a call. I'm really excited about that. I'm finding that I really love to give talks, and honestly, I think I'm really good at it. Part of that whole teaching thing, I guess. And the head of the women's ministry--the woman that invited my mom and I, and who is actually a really good friend of Mom's--wants to meet with me for coffee next week because she wants to kind of mentor me in this whole speaking thing. How cool is that? Kinda funny how Dad used speaking as a springboard for his writing, and I'm using my writing (limited as it is so far) as a springboard for my speaking. It'll be interesting to see what the next couple years bring for me in these arenas....

Babies, babies everywhere

I co-hosted a shower today for a friend who's due in about a month. Lots of my friends from my teaching days were there, as the mother-to-be was one of us back in the day, so it was particularly fun because we so rarely see each other all at once.

The shower had basically ended, but all we teachers had congregated in the family room where it was more cozy, and were just chatting. Of the six of us in there, four were pregnant. Julie, the woman we were partying for, was obviously the soonest. But then someone said, "Okay, when's everyone's due dates?" And it went: August, September, October. Then one of them, who's been trying, said, "If I am, then I'll be due in December." And November stuck out like a big black hole in the calendar. The month I would have become a mom.

It's a good thing that there never really was a baby in there, because I can't imagine how wrecked I'd be if there had been, given how I can't seem to let this go. Another friend of mine, who miscarried twice before having her first, made a really good point about how the HOPE that is involved in being pregnant is what makes it so devastating when you lose the pregnancy. Your hopes get elevated to an astonishing degree, just sky-high and within an arm's reach of heaven, and then suddenly you're plummeted back to earth and the landing is not at all soft.

I started a journal the day I got my positive test, and recorded all my thoughts, and symptoms (very short list since I hardly had any), the people I told each day about the pregnancy, and I finally threw it away the other day. It was a bit liberating, getting rid of the physical evidence of the hope that had been decimated. Like finally getting rid of the trinkets an old boyfriend gave you years ago, or mementos from years past that conjure the choices you wish you hadn't made. But I can't help thinking that, the next time I get to start that kind of journal, all the excitement will be out of it, because it won't be the first time, and every time I write in it I'll wonder if this journal will last longer than a month.

I checked my new prayer book to see if it had a miscarriage prayer. It doesn't. I wish it did. I need new words.

For the traditionalist in me

Dan and I were at Barnes & Noble today. I was perusing the Christian section in search of nothing in particular, just scanning the shelves to see if my eye caught anything interesting. And it did. A little red book, hardbound, with the simple title, "My Daily Prayer Book." I opened it to see if I could find any denominational label, then scanned the table of contents to see what all it had. And the more I saw, the more excited I got. Prayers for each morning and evening, prayers for each new week, prayers for each holiday and for special circumstances. I flipped through to skim some of the prayers, and that clinched it. And it was less then $10 with tax.

It kills me that prayer is such an issue with me. I know better than to think anything will be a quick fix, but if nothing else, this will help me to ground my ever-spastic mind while I pray, and guide me beyond the cookie-cutter prayers I tend to pray every day.

Friday, April 15, 2005

Revelation

I was lying in bed last night, praying, when I had a revelation. I'm not sure if I can put it into words, which isn't good when you're a writer, but in a nutshell, I realized that God is....big.

Now, before you say, "Duh!" here's the thing. Of course I know God is "big," in the sense that he's all-powerful, all-knowing, all-seeing, all-everything but what's bad, and that gives Him a certain "big" stature to us. We don't imagine someone with all that God is being 4'9". But I think that I've "known" God for so long that He stopped being big to me. When I pictured Him I inadvertantly pictured the Jesus aspect of Him, and that shrank Him to human size in my mind. What's that line from the Genie in the Disney "Aladdin" movie, something about the biggest power in the universe, in a itty-bitty living space. He was kind of like that to me. Lots of power, small package that I could get my head around. But then last night, as I was praying, I got this sudden vision of God being like the sun: so big that, even millions of miles away, He's huge in the sky.

It's a bit like the concept of love. We toss the word around so much that, by the time you find yourself faced with a person you really and truly LOVE with all the facets that the concept entails, the word dribbles, powerless, off your tongue. Suddenly this word that should cause you to swell with emotion, to melt with pleasure, has no more oomph to it than the plainest, most ordinary word in the language, and even though the concept behind it is so intense, you have no way to convey it. So you say it over and over, thinking maybe you can pile it up and increase its potency, but instead you're just exacerbating the problem. Soon you've said it so much it's lost all meaning.

I think that's what happened to me and God. After 23 years of faith, after thousands of Sunday school stories and youth group meetings and Bible studies, God became commonplace. The idea of God creating the universe--did you hear me? CREATING THE FREAKING UNIVERSE-- held no more mystery or majesty. The fact that He managed to multiply two fish and three loaves of bread to feed more than 5 times as many people as attend my church is about as awe-inspiring to me as the fact that dirt plus water equals mud. How pathetic.

So anyway...I'm lying in bed, praying, and suddenly I saw Him staring down at me, patiently listening to my prattling, and I was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by His existence. Overwhelmed by His strength. Overwhelmed by the privilege I have to speak directly to Him. This gigantic, enormous, massive power, this God that can speak solar systems into place and call all the stars by name and keep track of every sparrow all at the same time...this God sees me, hears me, listens to me, and speaks to me. And I, miracle of miracles, am allowed to see, hear, listen, and speak back.

Oh yeah, and He loves me, too. Me. Loves me.

Oh boy. Slow down. One mind-bending concept at a time...