So irate I can't see straight.

This makes me so mad I don't know if I can even put my thoughts into coherent sentences. The gall some people have! Some people have apparently forgotten the whole reason women fought for equal rights: so women would have the right to choose whether or not they wanted to work outside the home!

Okay, the gist of the article is this: some professor named Linda Hirschman has written a book in which she asserts educated women are making a grave mistake by becoming stay-at-home moms. She says they can't possibly be satisfied by giving up their careers, and women who claim that they've never wanted to be anything but a homemaker are basically lying and fooling themselves.

You know, I just now remembered that in high school one of my classmates made this same claim--that women have an obligation to work. I was so stunned that someone would make a comment like that that I couldn't even respond, and I find myself in the same position now. It's just such an absurd, ridiculous, and offensive statement that all the arguments against it seem way too obvious to outline.

I feel doubly affronted, because Hirschman's claim is not just a direct criticism of my choices, but of my mother's as well--even more of a criticism of her than of me, in fact. I've always wanted to be a writer and a teacher, and I knew I wanted to be in the classroom, although I knew I wouldn't be there for the whole of my working years and would eventually be at home with my kids. But my mom is one of those women for whom Hirschman apparently has no respect: a woman who desired nthing else than to put her life into her family. Yeah, gosh, what a mistake--to want to dedicate yourself to raising your children, being there for them whenever they need you, supporting your husband and taking care of him and the home you share. I can say, as a child of a stay-at-home mom, that the security I felt knowing my mom was always there for me played a direct role in making my child as happy as it was. I always knew she was available in case I got hurt or sick at school; she was was always there when I came home in the afternoon to make me a snack and ask how my day was and listen to my lame school stories. When I was in a play at school or had a choir concert, she didn't have to juggle work or beg off with a "I promise I'll come to the next one, honey!" She was always there, and not many of my friends could say the same.

"Don't give it more time than it deserves," my husband just told me. He's right. This kind of crap naturally makes me want to go face-to-face with this chick and tell her off, but what's the point, really? She's not going to listen to me, because, in her eyes, I'm apparently missing a few screws--why else would an educated woman like myself choose to give up a successful teaching career for a shaky career that lets me stay home? But before I sign off, one last comment: make no mistake, I have nothing but respect for women who have to work. Sometimes putting your kids first means having to work outside the home, and I totally understand that. I'll admit I don't understand people who want to work rather than stay home and raise their kids, but hey, just because I don't understand it doesn't mean I'm going to knock it. Women's lib was about letting you make that choice, so you go ahead and make it however you want, just as I have. Just don't follow this woman's poor lead and look down on those of us who ahve chosen the home as our office.

Religious Freedom

It doesn't matter if you think Christianity is true or not, this case isn't about a specific religion--it's about religious freedom in general. Go to this site and you can send a letter to Pres. Bush asking him to intervene. Who knows if he'll be able to do anything, but it can't hurt. No one should be put on trial for refusing to convert--Islam, Christian, Pagan, whatever.

Week Six Check In and a Nutrition Lesson

Here's a little nugget of information for you: did you know that eating the same food over and over for a long period of time can cause your body to become allergic to it? That's what I learned at the nutritionist this week when I gave her my food diary for the lats three weeks and she saw that my breakfast is always peanut butter on toast and an apple, my lunch is always eggs with cheese, my dinner (when we're not out to eat) is always turkey and provalone. "Ohhh, we need some variety here," she said. Thing is, the fact that I'm not eating Cheerios at all three meals like I sometimes did during my pregnancy means that, to me, I am eating a variety of foods.

So I'm a little frustrated, because the booklet she gave me that outlines all the foods I can have didn't have much in it that I actually like--in fact, peanut butter, toast, apples (or sometimes strawberries), eggs, provalone, and turkey were about it, hence the reason my menu looks the same every day. So that means I'm going to have to be an adult and expand my palate. I'm so not in the mood for that.

(And frankly, I'm a little dubious about the whole allergy thing. I mean, for real, my dad has eaten Cheerios for breakfast for as long as I can remember, and he doesn't have an allergy to them. Heck, I was pretty much the same way with cereal--the type may have changed often, but it was still cereal, every day for breakfast, quite often for a snack as well. Maybe it's only certain foods that are more prone to allergy? I don't know. I need to do a little more research.)

Regardless, the news she gave me about my weight loss was encouraging. Two more pounds of water weight gone, 1.2 pounds of fat, and sadly, .5 pounds of muscle. Turns out--here's another nutritional nugget for you--when your body gets hungry and your blood sugar drops, it doesn't go after all the fat your body has stored. It goes after your muscle! No more justifying skipping meals for me. THe scale may say you're losing weight, but it's not the weight you want to lose.

Okay, so, I can't remember what I was last week, and frankly I'm too lazy to check at the moment, so I'll just tell you that I'm down to 158.6 pounds and 35.5% body fat. I was so happy to see that 5 in the tens column. :) We're getting there, slowly but surely....

Walking through the shadows

I know some of you have occasionally checked out the blog called "My Insides" that I used to have listed in my Links section. You'll notice it's gone because, as you may have already discovered, the blog itself was taken down. But since some of you were into reading it, I wanted to direct you to Katie's mom's blog where you can follow up on what's going on with them. In a nutshell, it ain't good. Please pray for Katie, her kids, and her family. Thanks.

Time to Curl Up...

...with another awesome book by one of my top favorite authors, Jodi Picoult! If you haven't yet experienced a Jodi novel, I greatly pity you and direct you to pick one up post haste. I would suggest "My Sister's Keeper" or "Keeping Faith." Her newest, "The Tenth Circle," incorporates a comic book that is being written by the main character--very very cool. I'm not that far in and I'm already hooked. Time to go read it and hopefully finish it so I can get on with the rest of my life; all else stops when new Jodi arrives....

Memory Lane

I'm in the process of cleaning the room that will soon become my own office. For months we've been stashing boxes in here, knowing the room wouldn't be used until Abby was born and I was ready to start writing again. Well, that time has come, but first I must clean.

There's a box in here filled with stuff that was originally in Abby's room. When we cleaned out her room, the box of stuff we needed to keep was put in here, so I'm going through it now to try to find homes for all the stuff inside. One of the items has floated from box to box, room to room, since 1992. It is my sophomore year (of high school) assignment notebook.

Why the deuce, you may be asking yourself, does she still have that?! I'm asking myself the same question, and you'd think that, since an answer is not easily determined, it would be no problem to toss it in the trash and be done with it. But I just can't do it. And I think it's because I'm a slave to my memories.

There are dot matrix-printed lyrics to worship songs taped to the inside cover, songs that we sang at the high school service at church. There are penciled hall passes with ink signatures from our choir director, perfect for getting access to anywhere, anytime at Rolling Meadows High School. And on nearly every page, especially in those useless address book pages in the back (who puts addresses in the back of a book meant only to last a year?) are notes back and forth between Meg Ryan and myself.

No, not that Meg Ryan. The Meg Ryan who is now Meg Gronau who just had Baby Eddie last week, as noted in the previous blog posting. Meg was my closest friend that year, and we both shared a passion for writing, not just in our assignment notebooks, but on stories that we co-wrote during study hall and lunch and other dead times during the day. She was--and still is--hilarious, and quirky in all the best ways, and very creative.

When I read those notes about silly things and mundane things and things that were riotously funny at the time but now mean nothing to me, I'm reminded of how simple life was then and how much possibly lay before us like a wide-open prairie. It reminds me of a time of less responsibility and more play, of a time when you got to see your friends every day because they were in classes with you and not thousands of miles away with jobs and husbands and kids. There were no paychecks to work for--unless you wanted to--no utilities to pay, groceries to buy, children to worry about. Will I get a date for Homecoming? a part in the musical? a decent grade on my geometry test? Oh, to have such trifling worries now!

So I guess that's why I can't just up and toss this ratty old book. It's not just the memroies themselves, it's the sense of freedom and anticipation about the future that they bring back to me. I read those notes, those assignment explanations and appointments, and I'm taken back to sixteen, a place that, for all its heartaches and life lessons, was not so bad. So the book will get put back in the box, or some other box where I can hide my memories so that, one day, Abby will have something to look at on a rainy day.

Abby is sprawled on my bed, lazily observing me as I fold the laundry. "Mom, tell me about when you were a kid."

I smile. "Kind of a broad topic. Which part?"

"I dunno. Whatever part you want."

I set another T-shirt on the pile as I consider her request, then remember the box on the shelf in the closet. "How about I give you a glimpse of my high school years?" I retrieve the box and set it beside Abby, who is now upright and eagerly removes the lid.

She rummages through the theater programs, birthday cards and newspaper clippings before removing a navy blue notebook. "What's this thing with the Greenpeace sticker on it?"

"Ah, that's my assignment notebook from my sophomore year."

Abby flips it open and inspects the front cover, then turns the pages slowly. "Why does it say 'Pippin' on October 18th? And whose handwriting is this all over your book? And what's a V-Show?"

I put down a sweater and smile. "Oh wow, my assignment book. I haven't seen that in years! Let's see...well, Pippin was the musical that year that I desperately wanted to be in but didn't audition for because I was too chicken...V-Show stands for Variety Show; it was the talent show they did a couple times a year, and I was in that. And the other person's handwriting was from my friend Meg..."

Christmas has left the building.

FINALLY! The Christmas tree and decorations have been put away. I can't believe it's the second week of March and we're just now doing this, but those of you with kids will I'm sure understand. Thing is, these last few days have been more wintery than December-February were. In fact, it's raining and hailing right now and there was snow on the lower hills this morning.

I also finally got up the energy and motivation to go through my closet and weed out the maternity clothes I no longer wear. I ended up finding a bag of clothes a friend gave me back when I was, oh, I dunno, maybe five months preggo. Best part is, it had a bunch of t-shirts and even a pair of pants that I can still wear! I was so relieved. I went jean shopping last week, a chore that is nerve-wracking and ego-destroying even at the best of times. After trying on about 14 pairs of jeans and khaki's, I managed to find one--ONE--pair of jeans that fit. It was so depressing. I need the weather to warm up FAST so I can start wearing shorts and skirts again.

Welcome Eddie!!!

Congratulations are in order for my friend Meg and her family--on Wednesday they welcomed Edward Cornelius into the world! Check out her blog for the full story and adorable pictures. If you haven't read her blog before, trust me, you'll want to keep it on your frequently visited list--she's a fantastic writer, probably the funniest person I've ever known, and just all-around cool.

Adventures at the Lake

Yeah, I know I didn't post my five week check in, but that's because I sucked last week. I didn't lose any weight (although my body fat went down to 35.5%, so that's a slight improvement) and I only walked 3 days. But my disappointment in my undisciplined self was greatly reduced today when I walked my first post-baby 15 minute mile! I was on my way to a second one but just barely missed it; still, 16 minutes (which two of yesterday's laps were as well) ain't nothin' to sneeze at.

Another first: I jogged. Now, granted, it was on a decline, and it probably would have taken more energy to hold myself back than to just give in, but darn if I didn't jog for a good twenty seconds or so during that last lap! My butt was in shock for a good half mile afterwards. It's sad when your trunk has so much junk that it follows the rest of your body about half a second behind--when the rest of me was up, it was down, and when the rest of me was down, it was up. But hey, I still count it as an impressive feat.

THis afternoon we're meeting my brother and his wife and taking our grandmother out for lunch at P.F. Chang's. I'm in for another week of poor eating, I know, but at least I've seen how much I can get away with before it's reflected in the scale. I'll stay away from the rice today and just stick to the honey shrimp. Mmmmm-mmmmm......

One Month Check In

Okay, I swear this isn't going to turn into Alison's Online Weight Watchers Blog--I just haven't had anything else to post about lately! My apologies to those who keep looking here in the hopes there will be something actually worth reading about. I promise to write something more interesting soon. :)

Week 4 Starting Stats:
weight: 164.2
body fat %: 36.5

Cheating: Yeah, a lot again. But I realized that things like ice cream and candy bars that once would have sounded sooooo good just don't anymore. Hallelujah. 'Course I did eat six Tagalong Girl Scout Cookies, 3 in two sittings. But even those didn't taste as good as I thought they would.

Week 4 Ending Stats:
weight: 161.6--2.6 pounds lost!
body fat %: 37.5--1% gained--but I so don't care. :)

TOTAL WEIGHT LOSS: 11 pounds! WOOHOO!!!!!!! And the best part? I can totally tell. The maternity pants I've been wearing really don't fit anymore--the waists are floppy. I can only wear two pairs now, which is awesome on one hand, but really sucks on the other because I obviously still can't wear my original clothes. So I have to do a little bit of shopping. But for once I don't care. I'm going to Old Navy with my mom on Tuesday to get some jeans, and I figure all I really need is one pair of khakis on top of that and I'll be fine. I've already invested in a couple new shirts and will get a few more since the majority of my maternity shirts are way too big now, too. Yay!

Week Three Check-In

Okay, I'm not even going to post all the times I cheated. Fact is, eating out is just part of our entertainment, and I'm not going to get away from it. So I'm just trying to eat smart and avoid (or drastically limit) the foods I shouldn't eat. And so far it's working!

Starting Stats:
weight: 166.8 lbs.
body fat: 37.0%

Exercise:
11 miles/3 hour, 40 minutes

Progress (DRUM ROLL PLEASE!):
current weight: 164.2 lbs.--2.6 pounds lost!
current body fat: 36.5%--half a percentage point lost!
TOTAL WEIGHT LOST: 8.4 pounds!

I went to the nutritionist on Wednesday and she said I've lost 3 pounds of fat so far--I'm so psyched. I don't care, though, what the weight is, water or fat--either way it's gonna make my clothes actually fit one of these days. If I can be as good as I was that first week, then I'll be back to normal in no time. Hallelujah!!

Last Guy On The Web

Back in 1994, our family was one of the first in our circle of friends to get email--but I think my dad is officially the last guy to get on the web. But the good news is, he's finally there--at LeeStrobel.com! Go check out his site and sign up for his newsletter. And check out the link for the preview for his Da Vinci Code curriculum--it's PHENOMENAL. And I'm not just saying that because I'm his daughter! I haven't read the book yet, but now I'm going to--and then hopefully find some folks to go through the study with me. :)

Week two check in!

Well, I thought for sure after all the cheating I did this week I'd end up gaining back everything I lost. I can't even remember all the stuff I ate that I shouldn't have--between dinner out (twice) with my parents and the time we were in Ventura/Santa Maria for Dan's grandmother's funeral, I ate restaurant fare and fast food more often than I ate at home. But I still lost a little weight!

Starting Stats:
weight: 168.0 lbs.
body fat: 37.0%

Cheating:
A lot.

Exercise:
5 miles/1 hour, 40 minutes

Progress (DRUM ROLL PLEASE!):
current weight: 166.8 lbs.--1.2 pounds lost!
current body fat: 37%--no change.

Yay!! :) I don't even care that it's barely over a pound; I'm just thrilled I didn't gain any back. :)

I didn't know disco was so international

I'm watching the Olympic opening ceremonies from last night--I recorded it so I could zip through the commercials. The creative program before the athletes' march was one of the bet I've seen in a long time--I loved that skiier figure made up of all those people! And the way the Olympic rings were formed at the end--so cool. But I have to say, I love their musical choices for during the march. The disco, the 80's dance (I'm only through the "N" countries, so who knows what they'll be playing by Zaire!)

The Olympics always make me cry. I cry through the opening ceremonies, I cry through the athletes' march, I cry during the medal presentations even when the US isn't on a podium. It's the thought of all the hard work, of the teamwork and camaraderie between the teammates, and the concept of representing your country that make me so weepy. I get that way with marching bands, too. I know, I'm a dork.

My next Internet stop will be NBC's Olympics page to figure out when all my favorite sports are on so I can set the DVR to record them all. Abby apparently already likes hockey; I had one of the women's games on this morning and she was staring in rapt attention at the TV. She did that the other night, too, while Dan watched the Denver Avalanche hockey game. Pretty funny. Dan would be thrilled if she was a hockey fan.

(Okay, I'm totally suckered in: did you see that Nike commercial where the US skiier, Bode, tells you to go to his website but doesn't say why? THAT will be my next stop, and then the NBC page. What can I say, he said to check it out, and I'm a follower.)

When the Olympics were here in LA back in...what was it, 88? 84? I can't remember...anyway, the marathon was run down here in Mission Viejo, and just two minutes away is Olympia Parkway, one of the roads they ran on. Kinda cool to think there were olympians right down the street from my house! Maybe someday it'll come back to LA and they'll do it again. Probably the closest I'll ever get to the games--those tickets are expensive!!

Let me know if I ever write a best-seller, will you?

Timetraveler.ytmnd.com

I don't even know what else to say.

Even better!!

You know how they say you should weigh yourself at the same time every day (or whenever you weigh yourself)? Well, the measurements I listed in my previous post were taken last night before bed--but I usually weigh myself before my shower. And guess what? When I did that this afternoon, I was 168! That means I've lost 4.6 pounds!! I know it's probably not likely, but IF I can keep that up, that means I'd be down to my target in about 3 months! BY SUMMER!!

Talk about motivating!...

Week One check in!

Well, I've been doing my new diet & exercise plan for one whole week now. Here's the lowdown:

Starting Stats:
weight: 172.6 lbs.
body fat: 39.5%

Cheating:
Super Bowl party (see Feb. 6 entry)
KFC (But I only had chicken strips! I WANTED extra crispy chicken breasts and mashed potatoes and a buttermilk roll--three cheers for willpower!)
McDonalds (But I only had chicken selects, 1/2 my fries, and 1/2 my Hi-C soda! I WANTED a quarter pounder with cheese and a Dr. Pepper and chocolate-dipped ice cream cone--three more cheers for willpower!)

Exercise:
14 miles/4 hours, 40 minutes (approx. 40 minutes a day)

Progress (DRUM ROLL PLEASE!):
current weight: 170.0 lbs.--2.6 pounds lost!
current body fat: 37%--2 percentage points lost!

YES! Measurable success!! Two pounds a week is fine by me. At this rate I will be at my target weight by the beginning of September. It sounds like it's a long way away, but at the rate time's going, it'll feel like, two weeks from now...

Goodbye, Gwen.

Grandma Gwen, Dan's maternal grandmother, died this morning. She was a dear woman, and I'm so glad I had the privilege of meeting her. Funeral is Friday. Please pray for Dan's family, especially his mother and aunts. Thanks.

Three and a half days wasn't bad...

Okay, so I went three full days of no cheating on the diet. But then we went to a Super Bowl Party...

Honestly, I was quite proud of my restraint. I only ate:

- 7 Cheez-Its
- 5 home made torilla chips
- 4 meatballs (at least they had protein!)
- 4 potato chips (but really thin ones!) with onion dip
- 6 apple slices (on my list of food I can eat, so that's good!)

Now, compare to what I normally would have eaten:

- a small bowl of Cheez-Its
- a plateful of home made chips, and after consuming I would have asked the woman who brought them how to make them, and then would have had Dan stop at the grocery store on the way home to get the ingredients
- 10 meatballs (they were covered in some kind of delicious sauce)
- 20 potato chips with a 1/2 a cup of dip
- two quessadilla slices
- 3 taquitos
- no apples whatsoever

So really, it was a huge victory. I was really kicking myself at first, but then it was kind of a challenge, a throwing down of the gauntlet to myeslf, to stop at only 5 of those tortilla chips and 4 potato chips & dip. Given the exercise I'm getting these days and how well I'm eating (last night aside) I don't think my little foray off the diet is going to be an issue. I mean, I'm all for discipline, but I don't want to turn into a total food nazi, right? Anyway, it's Monday morning, day 5, and I'm eating my strawberries and toasting my one slice of whole wheat before heading out to the lake to do my 45 minutes. 125 pounds, here I come!!!

Breaking the addiction

On Tuesday I went to the nutritionist my mom's been seeing. She's awesome--looks about 20 years younger than she really is and has MS but you'd never know it. Amazing what eating the right food will do for you! Anyway, my mom split her appointment with me so she could give me some advice on getting back into shape. I've been holding steady at 172 for almost two weeks, which is what she told my mom would happen because of my diet which, of course, sucks. She did a readout of my cells, my fat to muscle ratio, and some other stuff I can't remember. I wasn't as awful as I expected to be, but I'm certainly not where I should be, and while a lot of the reason is the pregnancy and its side effects, truth is I'm always a mess. Thing is, I'm realizing that Abby is one giant blank slate that is going to be filled by what she sees, and if she sees me living off cereal and fast food, how can I expect her to be any better? And after hearing the nutritionist explain what eating processed and simple sugar does to your body, I've decided I'm going to do my very best to make sure Abby doesn't get addicted to it the way I have.

So, to those ends, I launched a lifestyle change yesterday that I'm hoping and praying I'll be able to stick with. I'm eating a diabetic diet of about 1300 calories a day, plus two protein shakes a day on top of it, and I eat 6-7 times a day. I also started walking around the lake again; I'm starting at 30-45 minutes of walking time with the goal of working up to 4 miles in an hour. (Right now it takes me about half an hour to go one mile--thanks a lot, c-section.) The biggest challenge so far: not letting myself cave to my sugar craving. She said it would take about a week for me to break the addiction, and let me tell you, the pull of those Honey Nut Cheerios is just about unbearable right now. Might not seem like a big deal to let myself have one bowl a day--certainly it's less than my standard 2-3 bowls which made up about 80% of my daily dietm, right? But NO, I will NOT let myself do it! And I invite you to keep me accountable. I honestly think there should be a 12 step program for sugar addiction, but since there isn't, y'all have to serve as my sponsors. :) Feel free to check up on me; I promise to be honest!

Today is day two, and so far I have been strong. I threw out an entire box of my most favorite cookies last night, and finished off my Stove Top Stuffing Monday night. We're doing dinner with my grandmother tonight--we have a monthly KFC date with her--so I'll be off the diet a little but not too badly: chicken is part of my diet, and I'm going to have water instead of soda, and I'll bring my green beans and avocado instead of having the mashed potatoes and gravy. *sigh*

One day at a time, one hour at a time. Anyone who's ever broken an addiction and has some advice for me, please comment. I'm going to need all the help I can get!

The End of an Era

Well this will teach me to procrastinate. Western Union stopped sending telegrams on January 27th. I'm so bummed! I've always wanted to send a telegram, and now I'll never have the chance.

Three down...

So today marks the beginning of my fourth decade of life. I couldn't sleep last night after I fed Abby, and as I laid there staring at the ceiling I started thinking about how much has changed since my 20th birthday. Ten years ago today I was a sophomore at the U of I, dating the guy I thought I'd marry, looking forward to a year abroad in Scotland, addicted to an online roleplaying game, and expecting to be a teacher after I graduated. When I went home to visit my parents, I went to Arlington Heights, a suburb outside Chicago. I didn't have a car, I didn't own a house, I didn't have a job, I most definitely didn't have a baby. I slept on the bottom bunk of a 10 by 10 foot dorm room and did my homework on the floor while watching "Friends" and "ER." I think I had my birthday dinner at the Bombay Bicycle Club. Or maybe that was my 19th birthday. I can't remember.

I had my life very well planned out. (Silly, silly me.) I was going to graduate, get married, get a job as a teacher, and most likely have my first baby by 23 and my second a few years later. We'd live somewhere in the Chicago suburbs, have a house with a big yard, and...that was it. That was the dream I had for my life.

And God, I'm sure, was laughing at me.

Fast-forward ten years, and has any of that happened as I expected? Not at all. Instead, God rained down blessings far greater than any I could have anticipated or even hoped for. When the dreams I had 10 years go started to fall apart and fade away, I was so sad, so frustrated--I had put so much effort and time into building those dreams! How could they just crumble like that? I knew there were obviously lots of other wonderful things that could happen to me, but I wanted the wonderful things I'd come up with--because I of course knew what was best for me, right?

A gorgeous baby at 30, a home in California, a husband more perfect than I could ever have hoped for, and a career as a writer--not the life I planned but definitely a better one. The last ten years have brought with them a lot of unexpected change, a lot of unexpected opportunities, and some of the best and worst experiences of my life. Looking forward to the next 10 years makes me wonder what else God has in store...

"Not in my town."

Have you ever found out something was happening close to your home that absolutely disgusted you? I had that experience today. Lisa Samson had a link to Protest4.com , the website for an organization devoted to ended human sex trafficking, and I decided to check out the link. One of the articles listed was about the 12 US cities that are hubs for child trafficking--and one of them was Anaheim, CA. Yes, the home of Disneyland, the Happiest Place on Earth, and a city less than half an hour away from me that I'm in all the time. I couldn't believe that such a small city (compared to the other cities on the list, like LA and San Francisco and Las Vegas) with so much wealth could harbor such a dirty secret. It makes me ill.

So I'm doing something about it. Their "Get Involved!" page said they needed volunteers, and listed "writers" among the types of people they're looking for. I wrote them and am just waiting to hear what I can do, besides driving up there and grabbing off the street every lone girl I see.

One of the other things that really got to me was a quote from the mother of one of these girls:

"You sit down and talk to your kids about drugs, but you never talk to your kids about the possibility of prostitution," she said. "It's just not part of your world."

Does it scare anyone else to think that we need to be talking to our children (note it says CHILDREN, not GIRLS) about not becoming a prostitute? How on earth do you even start that conversation???

I'm not going to think about that right now. Instead, I'm going to start brainstorming a novel that touches on this topic. The more attention we draw to this travesty, the better.

Ah-ha!

I feel exonerated! These books all had less than 50% chance of being a bestseller:
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn--10.2%
The Cae for Christ--35.9%
White Oleander--41.4%
The Bridges of Madison county--35.9%
Tuesdays With Morrie--45.6%
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone--45.6%
The Da Vinci Code--39.5%
Pet cemetery--35.9%

So I think I'm probably okay, don't you think?

Well no wonder.

The Lulu Titlescorer tells you how likely your book's title is to make it a bestseller. Turns out Worlds Collide only had a 10.2% chance--no wonder it hasn't sold into royalty yet! Unfortunately I am not that good at picking titles, apparently, since Violette Between only has a 14.6% chance. Hm. At least I know where to go now to test drive my titles before making my final decision. (And yeah, yeah, I know it's all in fun...but I'm still going to run some bestseller titles through it to see how well they score. Just in case.)

The whole truth...sort of

Have you seen all the buzz about James Frey's book, "A Million Little Pieces?" Apparently he wrote his memoirs and took some creative license with a few of the rather important facts. Now there's a debate raging about the necessity of truth in memoirs--and frankly, the very fact that there's a debate at all shows us just how badly society is crumbling--with one side saying that memoirs fall under the genre umbrella of non-fiction and should therefore be all truth, and the other side saying that a little embellishment is really no big deal when the majority of the story is true to real life.

I'm getting ready to start my first non-fiction work, and not far behind it is my own memoir attempt. The first work will be about other people, and I don't foresee having a problem sticking to the facts with that one. But I have to admit that, while I don't condone what he did, I can certainly understand where Frey was coming from. When I think about some of the things I'll have to admit in order to stay true to my life, I get a little worried. Do I really want to admit to it all? Do I really want to give complete strangers an unflinching full-frontal view of my shortcomings, my stupidity, my immaturity? And what about other people whose lives figure into my story--is it fair to expose them as well? I guess I could give them the option of being shielded with the whole "Names have been changed to protect the innocent" concept.

And then what about the not-so-exciting facts, the mundane parts of the story that would be a lot more interesting with a few twists and exaggerations? Part of me thinks my story is way too lame for anyone to consider riveting reading--will I be able to withstand the temptation to give into hyperbole? Not much, just a few instances here or there that wouldn't have any bearing on the bulk of the story. Because, really, can you expect a fiction writer to refrain from fiction ALL the time?

Obviously the answer is yes, you can, and you should. And obviously I'm not going to let myself give into that temptation--I can't even blame a few embellishments here and there on a fuzzy memory because I actually wrote every night in a diary during the year abroad that I'll be chronicling. But I can guarantee I'll be wincing as I write and really wishing that truth was a gray as some people would like it to be.

Michael Frey's deception was wrong, minor thought it might be--but I can definitely understand why he did it.

A little preoccupied at the moment...

It may be awhile before I post regularly again on this blog--we had our baby last week and I'm a bit wrapped up in staring in wonder at my daughter. :) Check out my baby blog for all the details and the cutest pictures ever. :)

-Alison

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.

What Crappy Christmas Gift Are You?

You Passed 8th Grade Science

Congratulations, you got 8/8 correct!

Could You Pass 8th Grade Science?

You Are

A Franken Pumpkin Face You would make a good deformed pumpkin.

What's Your Pumpkin Face?

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!

The World's Shortest Personality Test

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....

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?!?!?!

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!

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. :(

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

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.

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*

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!

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...

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.

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!

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. :)

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. :)

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!

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. :)

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....

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.

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. :)

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.

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.

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!

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!

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!

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....

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.

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!)

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!

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....

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.

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!

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. :)

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?

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.

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....

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. :)

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.