New post, finally! And on my new laptop, also finally!

Sheesh, it's been awhile, sorry about that. So many things I've wanted to blog about but just...haven't. No excuses, other than laziness. My apologies. But the coolest part is that I'm typing on my brand spankin' new, almost-as-white-as-me Macbook! Just finished importing all my important files and folders over--I love starting over from scratch. Nice and clean, no files leftover from my teaching days cluttering up the place.

So, let's see, updates updates. Car's still in the shop, though apparently still on schedule, which is good. Returned the gas guzzling Quest and am getting quite used to Kyle's Maxima. I'd forgotten how much I love driving stick. Went to Ventura for Father's Day. Amber, Andrew, and Simon were there as well--Dan's brother's family--so it was a tight squeeze between them, us, and my parents-in-law, but it was fun and actually worked out really well. Abby didn't quite know what to make of Simon, who is not only all boy but also the Energizer Bunny incarnate. He unwittingly taught her how to say "Cool," which is really cute. She also started saying "pool" that weekend, which means any body of water bigger than the bathtub.

ON the subject of Abby, her language is really starting to take off. Today she tried saying "bird" and "ball" for the first time, and she's combining words and signs into pairs a lot more often now, too. "More food" is the most popular, surprise surprise. And then last night, SO cute: in the middle of being totally asleep she suddenly said, "Daddy!" Dan had just come to bed and we were whispering when it happened; he just about melted.

Took Abby into Mom and Dad's pool ("Pool!") for the first time today. Wasn't that excited, unfortunately, but that's my girl, very wary of anything new. She whimpered and clung to me the entire time. I'm hoping by the end of pool season she'll be more into it. She's got this adorable full-body UPF-50 swim outfit that's actually sized for 24 months, but we figured it would last her well into next year that way, and for now we just roll up the sleeves. We got it from Coolibar, along with an awesome floppy hat for me and swim shirt and shorts for Dan. Their stuff is very reasonably priced, and given how many moles Dan and I each have to have removed every time we visit the dermatologist, definitely a worthwhile investment. Plus it's a lot easier than trying to slather Abby in sunscreen.

In other news, we've reduced our carbon footprint by a size or so by purchasing reuseable bags from--where else?--reusablebags.com! I keep forgetting to bring them with me, though--they're in the trunk but I just haven't gotten in the habit yet. I'm much better at remembering when I go to the farmer's market, which I've just started doing--I think because the very act of shopping at a farmer's market seems so crunchy to me, the bags just fit. Popping into Target, I just never remember.

Writing...oh yeah, that's what I do, isn't it?--was going great for a while, but ever since Nana's passing I just haven't done it. Not that it has anything to do with Nana; that's just when things around here went bonkers and I've never gotten back on schedule. I did, however, get my first 5 chapters done and edited and sent off with the proposal to Chip the Wonder Agent, and so far three houses are very interested in working with me. Woohoo! Oh, to have a contract again!

Lame.

Lakers.
Clippers.
Dodgers.
Angels.
Ducks.
Kings.
Padres.

Does SoCal have the wussiest-named sport teams in the country or what?

DUCKS WIN! DUCKS WIN! DUCKS WIN!

Wow. What a game. Anyone who doesn't think hockey is anything interesting should really try sitting close enough to see the faces of the guys as they get squished against the glass. I enjoyed watching it before, but honestly, being that close made me want to play. It's so non-stop, so engaging, so exciting--I basically ate my way through the games when we were sitting in the nosebleed seats this past winter, but on Wednesday I barely managed to finish my pizza; I just felt like there wasn't time, there was just so much going on!

And then to see them win...I really wish I'd been a fan for longer, because then it really would have meant something to me. It was still fun, though, especially knowing only one guy on the entire team had ever been on a cup-winning team before. And when you're as sentimental as I am, it doesn't take that much for something to be really moving. This was really moving.

And Abby did pretty well sleeping at my parents' place. My mom didn't get any sleep, but Abby got about 7 hours which, while not as much as usual, is still not bad, considering she's never slept away from me before. But the big news is that she didn't try to nurse when I got her in the morning, and we didn't this morning, either...dare I say I think we're done? Granted she threw a fit when I didn't let her today, but she got over it pretty quick. I can't believe I may finally be closing that chapter of my parenting job with Abby. Definitely bittersweet.

I miss my car.

And it's going to be quite a while before I see it again. The mechanic called with the estimate (which the other guy's insurance is paying, THANK GOODNESS, because it's over $5,000!) and said it would probably be another...FOUR WEEKS. AAAAAUUUHHHGG! Although, I have to admit, the Nissan Quest we're renting drives really nicely--much more smoothly than our Odyssey. If you're thinking of getting a van, definitely test drive it.

But, regardless of how nicely it drives, I still want mine back. Besides the fact that I'm always worried when I drive a rental--what if I bust it?--it also doesn't have all the little stashes of handy stuff that we've built up in the Honda over the last year and a half. You don't think about how often you dip into those stashes until they're not there.

One good thing: Abby's learning to ride in the car without watching "Dee-dee." It's been a week and she still points to the ceiling and says, "Dee-dee?" every time we get in. I am greatly disturbed by her attachment to video. I think, when we get the Odyssey back, we'll NOT be watching it as much as we were. Though when she sees it's there and we're just not playing it, I can guarantee she'll throw a fit. Oh well. It's amazing how good I'm getting at tuning out those screams.

Go Ducks!!!

Dan is a huge hockey fan. Until we married I'd seen one hockey game in my whole life, and while I enjoyed it, I attributed it more to the fact that I was actually AT the game. But once I started watching the Colorado Avalanche with Dan, I got hooked. We've gone to a couple games this season when the Avs were playing the Ducks, and Dan's decided he's a Ducks fan, too. Well, for those of you who don't know (which, given how few people watch hockey, is probably most of you) the Ducks are in the playoffs for the Stanley Cup. This is very big. I don't think they've won it before. Tonight is game 5, and if they win, they win the cup, having already won 3 of the series games. And the best part is that WE HAVE TICKETS! And not only do we have tickets, we have AMAZING tickets: three rows from the glass, dead center on one of the blue lines. IIIEEEEE!!! My dad, being the incredible guy he is, bought them for us and surprised Dan with them after the Ducks lost the game on Monday. (The fact that they lost was actually a VERY good thing. Had they won, that would have been 4 wins, and the series would have been over. Not only would there not have been a game today, my dad wouldn't have gotten a refund. Ouch!) So if you don't have anything else to watch tonight, check out the game, and look for us! I think there's a good chance we'll get on TV, at least in quick little blips here and there; we're on the side of the ice where the penalty boxes are, and there's one fairly close to us, I think, and they always show those on TV. I'll be in a white Ducks jersey and black hat, Dan will be in an orange Ducks sweatshirt and a black hat. GO DUCKS!!!!!!!!!!

Not luck.

"God only knows the times my life was threatened just today;
A reckless car ran out of gas before it ran my way.
Near misses all around me, accidents unknown,
Though I never see with human eyes the hands that lead me home."

That was one of my favorite Amy Grant songs when I was a kid--"Angels Watching Over Me." I'm not really sure what I think about the whole angels thing--I think popular culture has probably overemphasized their role in our lives, but hey, there are worse ways to warp your spirituality. Anyway, I digress. The reason I've been thinking about that song so much tonight is because I had one of those guardian angel moments this evening when some kid in a fancy car took a turn at who knows how fast, jumped a median, and slammed into my van while I waited for a red light to change.

It's really weird to see a car coming at you and to know there's nothing you can do about it. The only thing I thought before he hit me was, "Oh boy, he just lost control. And now he's gonna hit me." I'll admit it, I didn't think about the fact that Abby was in the backseat. Does this make me a bad mom? Maybe that would have been the next thought, had there been time for me to have another thought. Or maybe it was part of that guardian angel thing--I wasn't scared at all. My life didn't flash before my eyes--and I've had that happen, the last time I was in an accident, though that time there was a lot of careening around on the road and slamming into stuff and airbags popping, so there was a lot more time to panic and think about what was going to happen next. But this time...I don't know, it was more like the feeling you get when you realize that, say, you're water heater burst and there's going to be a lot of mess to clean up: "Aw crap, there goes my afternoon."

We weren't hurt. The airbags didn't even go off. He wasn't coming at us at full speed, and he hit us at an angle, and on the side of the end of the car, so we didn't even get the full brunt of the impact. Abby had been crying already, annoyed that I turned off her VeggieTales music, and when we got hit she went silent for a second and then started to wail, but it was obvious it was just the shock of the impact and not from pain. When I got her into my lap and gave her my phone she was content. Given the fact that she was tired (I'd just left the house to take her out for her afternoon nap) and hungry, she was a real trooper for the hour that we were dealing with things. It's amazing how long a 17-month-old can be entertained with a cellphone and a wallet.

So now we have all sorts of fun ahead of us with our insurance and the other driver's insurance and car repairs and rentals and buying a new careseat for Abby (which just figures: that one was brand new--but California law requires that you replace a carseat that has been in a crash). Blah. And as the night's gone on my neck and back and shoulder and wrist have been aching more and more, so I'm probably in for some chiropractic visits too. But given what it could have been, this is no big deal. No big deal at all. My baby is okay, I'm okay, the car is driveable, we have insurance and so did the other guy.

Thanks, angels.

Circle of Life

Nana died last night. It was one of those things where she was breathing one second, and then she wasn't. She was sleeping at the time, too, so it was even more peaceful. We just found out Sunday that she had advanced cancer--bone, lymph nodes, liver, and lung--though the fractured vertebrae she's been dealing with since October turned out to actually be the beginning of the bone cancer, which most likely fed into the development of the others. Between then and yesterday she'd been doing sort of alright--heck, yesterday morning she had oatmeal for breakfast and was conversing with Mom--and at 5:45, when Mom was about to wake her up to introduce her to the new 24/7 hospice nurse that had just arrived, she decided enough was enough and went to Jesus.

Dad, Dan, my brother Kyle, and I had just gotten our salads at a local steakhouse when Dad's cell rang and Mom told us what had happened. We ditched dinner and went straight to Nana's house, and for the next two hours we all just hung out on the front step, waiting for the hoospice social worker to come, and then for him to do his thing. It was incredibly pleasant. Having Abby there was the perfect distraction, but no one shied away from speaking about Nana. We talked about how obvious it was that God had orchestrated things this way: Kyle and Kelli just returned Monday from Scotland, my dad had blocked off June so he doesn't have any speaking or traveling scheduled (minus a wedding he and Mom will go to in Chicago, during which he'll speak at Willow Creek's Chicago campus). It was a really lovely way to process what had happened and spend some quiet family time together.

Nana was 86. She lost a fiance in WWII, and married my grandfather, who she'd met when he was stationed in her hometown of Glasgow, Scotland, at the end of the war. Her wedding cake was cobbled together from rations borrowed from various Navy officials with whom she worked--she was a "WREN", which was the women's arm of Great Britain's Royal Navy. She came to America on the Queen Mary, lived awhile with her in-laws (picture Marie and Frank Barone minus the comic relief), and after many years, at 32, was finally able to conceive a baby girl. They raised her on a gracery cashier's and a barber's incomes in the suburbs of Chicago, which got increasingly more difficult in the long-haired 60's and 70's.

They retired to Sun City, Arizona before I was born, and came to visit every fall--September to me as a child always meant the beginning of school and two weeks with Nana and Papa at our house. Nana smoked from the time she was 15; one of my fondest memories will always be sitting on the back porch of our house, doing my homework at the table there while she had a cigarette. To this day, the smell of Marlboros instantly conjures Nana's face in my mind.

She and Papa moved here to California, just 5 minutes from where Dan and I now live, in 2001. Papa had a stroke quite soon after their move, and Nana was widowed that April. (Another one of God's provision: moving her out here before that happened.) In 2002 she and I took a cruise to Alaska, something she'd always wanted to do and never thought she'd get the chance to try. I'm so grateful to have been able to set that up for her; she was still talking about that trip a couple months ago. That autumn she suffered a fall that seemed to trigger a series of problems that eventually led to her losing the sight in one eye and being unable to lie down flat because of the vertigo that would always strike. The last five years have been progressinvely more and more frustrating for her as her health seemed to slowly slip away from her. Two events took her mind off those things: a trip back to Scotland in 2004, when Dan and I were her escorts, and the birth of Abigail, who brought her constant joy and entertainment.

She was an avid reader, a crossword puzzle expert, and, in her younger years, a skilled bowler--she still has a small trophy from who-knows-when sitting on her bookshelf. She loved rummage sales when social security provided most of their retired income, and in her later years, when an inheritance from her husband's sister brought her more money than she'd ever had in her entire life, she discovered the joys of retail therapy; Chico's, Talbot's, and Coldwater Creek can thank her for keeping them afloat for the last 5 years. (Oh, and how could I forget: QVC jewelry!) After fifty years in this country her voice still had a Scottish lilt.

Life goes on. Abby's whining at my feet, my stomach is growling, and there's a load of laundry that needs to be folded. But between demands on my brainpower I will think of cups of tea shared in the evenings after supper, sitting on the porch with wisps of smoke curling through the air above my history notebook, and hands of contract rummy between Nana, Mom, and me after holiday meals.

Bye, Nana. See you in heaven.

Snitch by Rene Gutteridge

I just put up a post on my other blog about Snitch, the newest release from Rene Gutteridge in her "Occupational Hazards" series. I read the first book in this series a while back and LOVED it. Anyway, check it out.

8 Things

Okay, so I was tagged for this meme, like, three weeks ago, and I've just been so busy I haven't had time to post it. So here goes: 8 Things You Don't Know About Me. (I don't think, anyway.)

1. I was a roleplaying game addict in college. True! I had a character on Shadowrun, a jazz-singing elf who managed to befriend the head of the Yakuza AND the Ancients. (Trust me, that's impressive.) The writer in me loved it because it was like writing a story where all the characters wrote their own part of the plot, and the shy-in-real-life, lousy-at-conversationalist in me loved that I could type everything instead of having to talk--I'm so much wittier and eloquent when I'm behind a keyboard. I'd log on as soon as I got home from class and stay on until I went to bed; my roommate actually got to the point where she had trouble falling asleep if I wasn't typing. :)

2. Dan and I not only met on eHarmony.com, but we're in some of their commercials, both on TV and the radio. When they first started doing commercials, we were on all the time, but now you don't see them as much.

3. I wrote my first novel in junior high. I used to write during my other classes, two lines of text per line on the notebook paper so I could squeeze more in and not go through paper so fast, and at lunch my friends would pass around the pages I'd completed and keep up with the story. It was really melodramatic--surprise, surprise, given I was in seventh grade--and until 2002 it was the longest piece of writing I'd ever done (and the only book I'd ever finished).

4. I sang in the Black Choir in college. That's what it was actually called, the Black Choir, which tells you just how much I stuck out.

5. I've seen the musical Les Miserables 7 times.

6. In 2002 I went on an Alaskan cruise, and the ship had a piano bar where you could do karaoke with live accompaniment. The piano guy could play pretty much anything, and he'd play whatever he felt like until someone made a request, and when you requested something he'd let you sing it if you wanted, microphone and everything. So one night I went and requested a song and sang along, and then people started giving me requests. I ended up singing for two hours, and at the end of it we'd packed the bar. I sang every night for the rest of the cruise, and one night someone asked if I knew anything from Les Miz. Ha! I can sing practically the entire libretto! So we did, like, four songs from that, and the next day I had two people ask me who I'd been when I'd toured with the musical!

7. I've only read three of my dad's books--and none of them was The Case for Christ.

8. I hate being outside.

Upon reviewing this list, I have to say I am probably one of them most uninteresting people on the Internet.

I know I'm supposed to tag 8 other people or something like that, but I think everyone I'd usually tag for this kind of thing has already done it in the last month or so. Sorry I'm breaking the chain--I'm not gonna have bad luck for the next 8 years or anything, am I?

Wean-y, whiny, woe!

Hell hath no fury like Abby when she's told she can't nurse. WOW. Last night was the first night I didn't nurse her at all once she fell asleep. Up until now, I've been cutting her off after 30 seconds and making her go back to sleep wit her paci and not, um, me. She was doing pretty well, with just the occasional crying bout that was more plaintive and tired than actually mad, and I could usually get her back to sleep with some gentle shushing and back-rubbing. The last two nights I've gotten her to bed in the first place by nursing her for a few minutes and then giving her the paci; she hasn't gone straight to sleep but she hasn't been as roly-poly and crazy as she used to be, either, so last night I decided to take the leap and cut her off after that initial nurse. She slept for about 2.5 hours and then woke up, which is par for her, and I went in and cuddled her and shushed her and told her that the milk went night-night.

Enter screaming banshee.

I've never seen Abby that kind of upset before. She was screaming a new kind of scream, and kicking me, and alternately slapping and grabbing at my chest. I'd try to pick her up and she'd throw herself out of my arms. I couldn't help but laugh, which I know sounds totally heartless and cruel, but honestly, it was like she was possessed or something, and all I could think was, "Holy overreaction, Batman! It's just thirty seconds of milk!"

This lasted for about 10 minutes before she managed to worm her hand under my shirt and, um, grab me. And then--silence. I'd been stopping her from putting her hands up my shirt because I was afraid she'd be like, "Hey, they're here, let me at 'em!" But apparently the skin contact was the only comfort she needed. She was pretty worked up, so it took her awhile to fall asleep, but other than the hiccuppy leftovers from crying, she was quiet. The rest of the times she woke up she'd start getting upset, but I'd just shove her hand up my shirt and she's calm down pretty quickly. Go figure. Whatever works, eh?

We have our tickets for our flight to Dallas in July, so I've been pretty motivated to make sure she's fully weaned and used to not nursing anymore to sleep so that when my parents take her for that weekend she'll be okay. After we get the nights down pat (or close) we'll start working on the daytime naps. With the price of gas going the way it is, it's getting awfully expensive to drive her around twice a day...

Putting one foot in front of the other

Metamorpha Chapter 2 Blogmap: Talk about what it might look like to climb toward what you wish were true (but isn't yet) about your life.

I think that I knew in my head that I needed to change, that I was not the person God wanted me to be, but it wasn't clear exactly how I needed to change until I got married and became a mom. Marriage was a mirror for me; suddenly I could see, quite clearly, just how selfish and independent (to a fault, that is--independence in and of itself isn't a bad thing) I was. I think that over the last three (four in August!) years I've improved in those areas. But then I had Abby and realized that, yes, I had improved, but I'd not gotten anywhere near where I needed to be. If marriage was a mirror, then motherhood was a big booming voice from heaven.

Who do I wish I was? Well, all sorts of things, but for practicality's sake, I'll limit my desires to those I can actually attain. I wish I was more selfless. I tend to keep score in my head, though I never actually voice that score to the person against whom I'm counting. I wish I could be more generous and sacrificial and not think, "Score one for me--now how are you going to repay me?" I've been really convicted lately by some of my friends--not that they know they were being convicting. They're just being, well, generous and sacrificial and selfless. Compared to them I live with an embarrassment of riches, and yet they give of their time and goods and energy without a second though.

I wish I was more disciplined. I'm getting better, but it's like my brain can only handle so many "must-do's" before it shuts down. I look at my mom and see how disciplined she is, how every single day she's doing things she definitely doesn't want to do, but does them faithfully anyway. I wouldn't last for a week living as she does. I'm such a marshmallow.

I wish I had a more intimate relationship with God. I'm trying, I really am, but I feel like I've been trying my whole life and haven't gotten any closer--like living on a hamster wheel. I think changing my entire approach and perception of what it means to live the Christian life is going to help, and Metamorpha is key in that change. When I think about Abby and what I want to model for her, I realize that at this point the whole lesson would be "Don't do it this way." And that's wrong.

I want to be bolder. I want to be braver. I want to be less fearful of messing up and more willing to take risks. I want to be able to speak my mind--nicely, mind you, but honestly, too--and not censor myself just because someone might not agree with me--or, worse, because someone might get angry with me.

So those are the things I wish were true about my life. But the question asked what it would look like to turn those wishes into reality. I think I'm afraid to fully consider that question, because I know a major chunk of the answer is going to be: work. Another major chunk is going to be: pray. Work is hard. Work hurts. Work gives me bruises and strains my muscles and makes me sweat. I don't mind the work when it's external--working on my writing, working on the laundry, the house--but when it's working on myself....ouch. And despite the fact that I'm going on 26 years of being a Christian, I still suck at praying. And that right there is a testament to the fact that I need to do some work.

So...*deep breath*...it's going to look like:

letting go of things and giving as freely as God has given to me

letting go of my obsession with comfort in order to look back in a couple years and see that yes, I am different, but in a good way

taking one day at a time and saying that today I will do X, and Y, and Z, not because I want to but because I need to--and not thinking, "How will I ever last doing X and Y and Z every day for the rest of my life?" so that I get overwhelmed and give it all up

rooting my self-worth in my Maker and not the acceptance and love of people

opening my hands, my head, and my heart to God and praying the most dangerous prayer known to man: Father, change me.

Almost couldn't type that last one. It's too scary. Do you have any idea what God does to people who pray that earnestly? He does it! And that's what scares me. Because it's not a matter of slapping on a new coat of paint or glue-gunning some trim around the edges or rearranging the furniture. It's about dismantling the house--board by board, nail by nail--and allowing a whole new structure to be built. Lots of sweat. Lots of blood. Lots of splinters, and mis-swung hammers, and flat-out pain. But if I believe God to be who I think he is, and I believe that his Son has come that I may live life to the full, then what else can I do but take him up on the offer of a remodel?

deep breath

Father?

Change me.

Mother's Day

My mother's day got an early start when Abby woke up vomiting at 6 this morning. Poor kid. Spent the morning watching "dee-dee" (a.k.a. TV--I am SO SAD she has a word for TV, but oh well), throwing up, and sleeping on her tummy on the floor, arms and legs cocked like a little frog. It was adorable, or would have been, anyway, if I hadn't known she was wiped out from puking. :( But she stopped throwing up just as quickly as she'd started, and by 8:30 she seemed fine, and other than being far more cuddly than she usually is, she's been fine ever since. Thank heavens!

It's been forever since I blogged--and forever since I did anything remotely connected to writing or studying. Why is it I keep thinking I'm finally going to get to start writing again and then I just don't? Grrr. Although the one day last week that I did get to write I got myself unstuck from a scene that was going nowhere, so that was encouraging. So close to finishing this chapter, and then I get to edit! I've never been excited about editing before, but this time I am. I think editing makes me feel like a Real Live Writer, even more than writing does--because anyone can write, right? It's the people who are willing to take time to comb through what they've written and redo it and analyze it and scrutinize it that are writers. Or something. I don't know, just kinda pulling that outta my imagination, really. :)

I started weaning Abby four nights ago. I'm shocked to be able to say it's actually working. Every night she's gone longer and longer without nursing--last night she slept for two four-hour stretches and only nursed once! Long may it last.

Coming out of hiding...

...at least that's what it feels like. You know how it is when everyone gets sick, and you're hunkered down at home under a pile of tissues and laundry and Alka Seltzer Cold Plus wrappers, and you only venture out for more tissues or groceries? That was us. But I'm feeling so much better (she says after a huge sneezing fit); Abby and I even walked to the park this morning. And Dan just finished his term paper tonight, which means--drumroll--I get to start writing again!

I've been sort of stuck at this one part, and the last couple times I've written I've spent most of the time staring at this one paragraph, trying to figure out what it's supposed to do. It dawned on me the other night (as I lie waiting for the Alka Seltzer to kick in--man, I love that stuff) that there was a whole avenue I'd left unexplored with this character, and it really needed to be explored before I got to this paragraph. Ah-ha! Suddenly the knot was untangled in my mind and I knew exactly what to do once I got to start writing again. I love it when that happens.

I just realized the clock on the mantel is dying again; I thought it was 10:55 PM but it's already 11:15! This little clock is coming up on 10 years old; I love it but it's getting all temperamental and stopping now and then for no reason, even when the batteries are fresh. Then one day you notice it's going again. Whatevs. Anyway, guess I better hit the sheets. Tomorrow I get to go speak to a book club that read Violette BEtween this past month--I LOVE doing that!

Lesson of the day

File this one under "learned the hard way:"

Just because a cold medicine doesn't list a specific "will put you to sleep" ingredient in its nighttime version doesn't mean it won't still put you to sleep if you take it at 10 in the morning.

:P

We're all sick here. Abby started it with a high fever over the weekend; she also stopped eating much during the day and was nursing like mad at night to make up for it. Now Dan and I (and my mom) have wicked colds--the same stupid cold we all had back in March. Bah! I haven't had time to write all week because Abby's been such a handful, and now my head is so full of snot I don't think there's any room for creative words. Haven't had a chance to read the next chapter of Metamorpha either, but as soon as I do I'll post my blogs about it and a new message on the Metamorpha.com community board.

Hope you're all having a better week than I....

Change in plans

Hey, if you'd like to join me in reading and studying Metamorpha: Jesus as a Way of Life (see the post from yesterday for more details) then join the thread on the Metamorpha.com discussion board that I started today. Go to Metamorpha.com, become a member if you aren't one yet (it's free), click on Community, then on "the individual in formation", then on the general folder, then look for the "Reading through Metamorpha" thread. I figure this will be easier than trying to discuss the book through comments on blogs. And don't forget to let me know if you'll be posting on your blog about what you're reading in the book so I can add you to my Metamorpha list.

Where did I get that idea?

Metamorpha Chapter 1 Blogmap: Try to pinpoint the traits, both good and bad, that come from the religious tradition you grew up with or are currently in.

I belong to the first generation of people who grew up in a seeker church. For those of you who've never heard that term, a "seeker church" is a church that is geared towards reaching non-Christians. Now, every Christian is charged with the great commission--spreading the gospel--but seeker churches take it a step further by programming their entire service around making non-Christians feel welcome through the kind of music and media used (and the kinds of overtly religious symbolism they leave out) and by teaching entry-level lessons on the faith.

Thinking back to how that experience shaped my spiritual beliefs, I realize that the concept of spiritual formation wasn't addressed much at all. The emphasis was on what Christianity is, what it believes, and why people should be Christians--which makes sense, given the expected audience. The sermons focused on living in a Christian way and how that manifests itself in your relationships, marriage, financial practices, etc. As a result, I know a lot about the application of the faith, but very little on the development of it.

There are a lot of things I learned through my seeker-church years that I don't really believe anymore. I came to believe that the more traditional forms of worship--singing hymns, reciting creeds, praying prayers that were written out by someone else (like in a prayer book)--were either insufficient (though for what, I don't know), ineffective, or just plain wrong. No one ever said this, but I think the fact that they were omitted completely was enough of a lesson. I came to believe that there must be a specific day to which a Christian can point and say, "That's when I became a Christian." I also came to believe that church is a place where people come to become Christians, and not just a place where Christians come to grow and be taught. It's hard to admit that I think I was mistaught; I don't like to shed a poor light on a movement that led to my entire family being Christian today. But every movement has its faults.

Obviously I learned things there that I am grateful for having been taught. For example, I am pretty well-versed in the defense of the faith. I know the basic doctrine. I know the support for the Bible that allows us to be confident in its truth and teaching. I know how to integrate my faith into my everyday life and not compartmentalize my faith.

It's interesting, now, being a mom and being in charge of facilitating the spiritual development of another person. I'm much more aware of how the way I approach my faith will permanently impact my child. I think of the things I was raised to believe, the traditions we held or did not hold, the ways my parents demonstrated their faith, and I think about how Dan and I will do things the same or differently from them. And it hits me just how immense the responsibility is. The responsibility for churches is uthe same: immense. Guess that's why the Bible has that passage about leaders and teachers being held to a higher standard.

Metamorpha

On the days that I write, I spend the first hour of my "writing time" studying. I'm going through four different books at the moment: The Portable Seminary, Following Jesus by N.T. Wright, The Bible, and my brother's first book, Metamorpha. I started Metamorpha today, even though I edited the whole thing last summer, because reading for editing and reading for edification are two very different things. Back then I read for grammar and cohesion and organization; today I read because I've known for so many years that my spiritual life is anemic and whithering and I just didn't know why.

One sentence stuck out to me and really hit home: "The Christian life is not living out how we already see; it is a journey of redemption." It's not about walking through the door of conversion and being done. It's not about simply turning our back on certain beliefs and actions. It's about constant, unending, Spirit-led change: a journey that ends only when we go Home. You're not done when you pray the sinner's prayer; you're just starting.

On one level I have always known this. Of course there's more to it than just that quick prayer--there's the daily struggle against the flesh, against sin, blah blah blah. But if there's supposed to be a relationship with God, then there should be more than just struggle, right? A life of nothing but fighting can't be all the Christian life is supposed to be.

Having read Metamorpha already, I know what's coming up, and I know that reading it is going to change me--thank heavens, it's about time! But I don't want to do it alone. I'm inviting you to join me.

Kyle has written a curriculum that is available--free!--from the book's website. (Click on "dowloads" at the top.) I'm going to read a chapter a week and go through the curriculum, and then post to the blog about what I've read. (Part of each lesson actually includes blog ideas--how cool is that?) If you'd like to do the same, let me know and I'll set up a whole new list of links to every participating blog, so we can all read each other's repsonses and leave comments of insight and encouragement for each other. (A leader's guide is also available, so if you're in a small group that is looking for a new study, point your leader to Metamorpha!)

I really hope some of you will come along with me on this journey. Roadtrips are always more fun with a crowd. :) And I pray that God uses this book and this experience to renew your spiritual life and breath fresh air into your relationship with him.

Time to read...and morph!

A Bigger Life

Even though my official blog is temporarily out of order, I'm still posting the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance posts there because...well, because I am, so there. Anywayhttp://www2.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif, I wanted to direct your attention to the post I put up there today on this week's selection, A Bigger Life by Annette Smith. I haven't been reading the books for CFBA lately because I just don't have the time, but I'd heard from my agent that this was a really good one, so I took the opportunity for a free book--and boy am I glad I did! A really great story--devoured it in two days and wept at the end. Always a good sign, if you ask me. :)

Band geek? Choir snob? Primadonna ballerina? The possibilities are endless!

We've known since she was tiny that Abby enjoyed music, but to see a talent for it emerging when she's still so young has been really amusing. Three cases in point:

She "sings" now and then in this high breathy voice without a lot of enunciation, and lately she's started to actually mimic musical patterns, albeit just two notes in a row, but still. She's been spot-on with pitch a couple times, too. And she's got rhythm, I think, anyway-she's been clapping along with songs lately.

She loves playing the musical toys we have: drum and tambourine and pianos. And Dan just got Guitar Hero for his Xbox, and she actually drags the guitar over to him when he's not playing so that he'll start, and she pushes the buttons and claps along with the songs. Sometimes he puts the guitar on her and they "play" the game together--I'll have to get my camera out next time he plays in case they do it again and she holds still; it's so cute to see her with the guitar on!

Dan also got Dance Dance Revolution. For those of you unfamiliar with the game, go to this video and check it out before reading the rest of this so you appreciate just how adorable this was. (The screen on the right is what comes up on the TV; you step on the arrows on the pad that correspond with the arrows on the TV as they reach the top row. This little boy in the video, by the way, is about a hundred times better than I am. I'm not sure which is sadder: that a 5-year-old is more coordinated than me, or that a 5-year-old has spent that much time in front of a TV. At least he's not sedentary.) I was playing it and Dan and Abby were hanging out. Abby kept walking around the pad and watching me. Then she went to Dan's bookshelf, pulled out a large workbook, placed it on the ground behind me, then stood on it and began stomping her feet around as she watched me.

So, which one will she go for in the end, I wonder? Instruments, which we hope to start her on early, either violin or piano, or singing, which she'll certainly get exposed to a lot thanks to my inability to hear a song I know and not sing along, or dancing, which I'd also like to get her involved in eventually? I'll have to make a guess and record it in her baby book and see in ten years which way she leans...

Coming up for air

I can't tell you how many thousands of pages I've read over the last month. I just finished another book--let's see, that makes...*counting*...5 books since the beginning of March? No, forgot Jane Eyre--6 books. And three of them had over 800 pages. Egads. Anyway, I'm taking a breather before diving into another book (that Outlander series has me SO addicted--I swear they must dust the covers with crack or something) to do a little blog updating. I know you're thrilled.

In the Abby department:
At her 15 month well-check the doctor said Abby's verbal development is in the 18-24 month range, which doesn't much surprise me. Apparently the 18 month well-check is mostly a language screening, so she said we could skip it and just come in for her 24 month. I was so proud--it felt like having your kid's teacher tell you she can skip the next grade. :)

She has discovered the joy of shrieking. 'Nuff said.

New words include "more" (which she's been signing for months but she now signs and says) and "aw-riiiight!", which is REALLY cute. She does "wow' sometimes, too, in this breathless voice that sounds like she's truly awed. She also says "ff, ff" when you ask what dogs say--not quite right, I know, but I see why she'd say that and it works for me.

In the writing department:
I've started chapter 4 in my current WIP and have to say I am quite pleased with my progress so far. I have a group of friends who offered to be my test market for the first 3 chapters, and the feedback so far has been helpful and encouraging. All the reading I've been doing has been paying off, too; I can tell the voices from some of the characters I've been reading and the styles of some of the authors are rubbing off on me, in a good way. Don't forget, all you wannabe writers: READ READ READ!!!

All my Rita award stuff is in, and Dan and I have decided to go to the award ceremony in Dallas this July. This means Abby will be staying with my parents for the weekend we're gone--my stomach is already in knots. It also means we'll need to have her night-weaned by then. Having just done the day-weaning and feeling like we're finally good in that department, I've gotta say I'm nervous about this next step. Partly because I know it's not gonna happen without tears, and not just regular tears but nighttime while-everyone-is-trying-to-sleep tears, which means we're in for some rough nights. But also because, as much as it annoys me sometimes, I love nursing Abby. I love the connection. I love that I can give her something no one else can. I love that she's comforted by it--I know now why she's never attached to a "lovie", it's because *I* am her lovie! Well, a specific part of me, in reality, but still, it's kind of a package deal, and I'd like to think that the rest of me gives her comfort, too. And once we stop, that's it with her, that connection is gone forever. It's breaking my heart, but I know it has to be done, and not just because of the trip, but because I don't want to nurse when I'm pregnant and we're hoping that will be a reality soon, too; the trip is just giving us a more definite deadline. *sigh* Okay, so that wasn't really writing-related, I got a little carried away, sorry.

Well, Abby's at my feet begging for "uppie!" so I'm off to be a mom. And then read some more. I'm already feeling the withdrawal....

He's Alive!

He is risen, amen! My earliest memory of contemporary Christian music is Don Francisco's song, "He's Alive!" I haven't heard it in years, but the lyrics still stir me. Go here to hear the recording, or read the lyrics below, and ponder the wonder and miracle of Easter.

The gates and doors were barred
And all the windows fastened down
I spent the night in sleeplessness
And rose at every sound
Half in hopeless sorrow
And half in fear the day
Would find the soldiers breakin' through
To drag us all away

And just before the sunrise
I heard something at the wall
The gate began to rattle
And a voice began to call
I hurried to the window
Looked down into the street
Expecting swords and torches
And the sound of soldiers' feet

But there was no one there but Mary
So I went down to let her in
John stood there beside me
As she told me where she'd been
She said they might have moved Him in the night
And none of us knows where
The stone's been rolled away
And now His body isn't there

We both ran toward the garden
Then John ran on ahead
We found the stone and empty tomb
Just the way that Mary said
But the winding sheet they wrapped Him in
Was just an empty shell
And how or where they'd taken Him
Was more than I could tell

Oh something strange had happened there
Just what I did not know
John believed a miracle
But I just turned to go
Circumstance and speculation
Couldn't lift me very high
'Cause I'd seen them crucify him
Then I saw him die

Back inside the house again
The guilt and anguish came
Everything I'd promised Him
Just added to my shame
When at last it came to choices
I denied I knew His name
And even if He was alive
It wouldn't be the same

But suddenly the air was filled
With a strange and sweet perfume
Light that came from everywhere
Drove the shadows from the room
And Jesus stood before me
With his arms held open wide
And I fell down on my knees
And I just clung to Him and cried

Then He raised me to my feet
And as I looked into His eyes
The love was shining out from Him
Like sunlight from the skies
Guilt in my confusion
Dissappeared in sweet release
And every fear I'd ever had
Just melted into peace

He's alive yes He's alive
Yes He's alive and I'm forgiven
Heaven's gates are open wide
He's alive yes He's alive
Oh He's alive and I'm forgiven
Heaven's gates are open wide
He's alive yes He's alive
Hallelujah He's alive
He's alive and I'm forgiven
Heaven's gates are open wide
He's alive He's alive He's alive
I believe it He's alive
Sweet Jesus

Please act!

Those of you who read my blog regularly know that nutrition has become a big issue for me--as in, an issue I champion and discuss often, not an issue as in it's a problem. (Well, actually, it still is a problem--old habits are hard to break, ya know! But that's not what I mean.) Well, I found out today that the FDA is trying to pass legislation which will make supplements illegal. High-quality supplements have been a huge part of my successful weight loss and continuing health, and are practically the only way my mom is keeping her hypoglycemia at bay. If the FDA gets its way, supplements--as well as natural health therapies--will be classified as medicine, meaning only doctors can dispense or practice them. People like my nutritionist, who was able to get to the bottom of my mom's health problems when doctors could not, will not be able to sell them anymore, nor will your local health food store.

If you're not into natural remedies, then that's fine, but I would still ask that you help keep them an option for those of us who rely on them. Please go to this petition and sign it, then forward it to your friends and family. If you have a blog, please post a quick article and the link and ask your readers to sign it, too. The FDA has bowed to public pressure in the past--please do your part to make them do it again!

"Reclaiming Nick" by Susan May Warren

Oops, I flaked on my weekly CFBA book. Sorry about that! This week's selection is Reclaiming Nick, which is the first in the "Noble Legacy" series. Here's a blurb:

http://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifNICK NOBLE HADN'T PLANNED ON BEING THE PRODIGAL SON.
But when his father dies and leaves half of Silver Buckle--the Noble family ranch--to Nick’s former best friend, he must return home to face his mistakes, and guarantee that the Silver Buckle stays in the Noble family.
Award-winning journalist Piper Sullivan believes Nick framed her brother for murder, and she’s determined to find justice. But following Nick to the Silver Buckle and posing as a ranch cook proves more challenging than she thinks. So does resisting his charming smile.
As Nick seeks to overturn his father’s will--and Piper digs for answers--family secrets surface that send Nick’s life into a tailspin. But there’s someone who’s out to take the Silver Buckle from the Noble family, and he’ll stop at nothing--even murder--to make it happen.

For more on Susan, check out her website.

Outlander

Randy Ingermanson used excerpts from Diana Gabaldon's Outlander as illustrations of the concepts he taught in his Fiction 301 seminars at the ACFW conference last year. I asked for it for Christmas, along with the other books he used as illustrations, and so far the two I've read have been definite winners. Speed of Dark by Elizabeth Moon was the first one I read, and today I finished the 850 page Outlander. OH MY GOSH. I haven't read a page-turner like that in a LONG time. Now, before y'all go running out to get it on my recommendation (because I have just that much influence on your reading, I know), I have to warn you that this is a secular romance, meaning the sex isn't just implied or mentioned but somewhat detailed. And the language can be a little rough. But if you're okay with that, then go go go go go get this book. I haven't been able to put it down for days--at one point I was literally "reading" books to Abby from memory while actually reading my book behind her head as she sat on my lap. Hardly devoted mothering, I'll admit, but the book was just that good. And the best part by far was getting to the end and finding an excerpt from the sequel! Yes! There's another one! And if it's only half as good as the first it'll be fantastic.

I'm off to hunt down the author's website and gush to her....

UPDATE:
I was wrong--there's not a sequel, there's a whole freaking six-book series! I'm so happy I could cry!

Pleasant Discovery

I've been completely absorbed in the book "Outlander" by Diana Gabaldon, and the last two nights I've stayed up till 11:30 reading. Now, ever since the arrival of our little Abby, my bedtime has been her bedtime, because, well, I thought that's how one had to do it when one was being awakened a million times during the night to nurse; I figured I'd need to go to bed early to make up for all the time I'd spend awake in the middle of the night. But the last two mornings after styaing up late I've felt really good, and I suddenly realized: I've never been good at sleeping through the night, even before I had a baby, and I never thought it necessary to guarantee myself 10 hours in bed. So what does this mean? It means 1.5-2 hours of glorious me time at night! Hallelujah! Books and blogging, here I come!

"Violette Between" is a Rita Award Finalist!

Back in the fall I received an email telling me “Violette Between” had been nominated for the inspirationalcategory of the Rita Award. I was all jazzed until I read up and found out that over a thousand books are nominated–chances were obviously slim Violette would get to the finalist level.

Fast-forward five months to yesterday, when a number from Maryland kept coming up on my cell. Figuring it was a telemarketer or something, since I don’t know anyone in MD, I ignored it and figured they’d leave a message if it was important. They called twice without leaving a message, and the third time Dan answered for me. (I hate talking to people I don’t know on the phone!) After a minute he covers the mouthpiece and says, “Some woman from “RWA” saying you’re a finalist for some award?”

Yes, “Violette Between” is one of eight finalists in its category! Only one hundred of those thousands of nominees are chosen at this level–it truly is an honor to have just made it this far. You can see the other nominees in all the categories here. The winners are announced at a big, academy award-like dinner on the last night of RWA’s annual convention in July. It’s in Dallas, so since it’s not that far, we may go–heaven knows I’ve been jonesin’ for a reason to buy a big formal gown!

So, needless to say, I’m pretty psyched, although it’s funny because I was so angst-ridden over my books being considered romances when they were being marketed by Waterbrook. Now I’m coming to terms with the label and embracing the genre with all the love in my heart.

Though I still promise never to allow a bodice-ripping or Fabio-like image on my covers. :)

Violette Between<,/i> blog tour!

So this week, Wednesday-Friday, is the official blog tour for Violette Between. There are around 60 people posting, I think, so I’m really excited to see how my rankings go. If you’d like to participate, please email me and I’ll send you the necessary links. Props to my peeps at the Christian Fiction Blog Alliance for taking part, and a special thank you to all the folks in the blogosphere who’ve jumped on board to help out.

My New Blogging Home

I'm packing up this blog and shuffling it to a new location, so please change your bookmarks and links if you've got a link on your blog to mine. My new blogging home is:

blog.alisonstrobel.com

All the content from this blog has been transferred and from now on I'll be blogging there. Abby's blog (gobabymorrow.blogspot.com) will stay where it is, though.

See you there!

Transparancy

I'm working, in fits and starts, on books three and four simultaneously. So far I don't have a contract for either one, so I'm not as motivated as I should be to write, plus Dan and I started a home business about which I'll blog once we get a website up, so time for writing has been sparse. But I had a big breakthrough on book four the other day, and I was able to write the entire intro and get it sent off to my agent so he has something to send out with the proposal.

What's weird is that both books are autobiographical. I didn't plan it that way, but they are. Book three's main character is based on me, much more than Grace was in "Worlds Collide," and book four's main character IS me, because it's my spiritual autobiography. So I find myself baring my soul through two different faces, one real and one fictional, and all the exposure of my self is starting to stress me out.

I gave my mom the intro to the spiritual autobiography because she always reads my stuff before anyone else does. After I sent it off to her, though, I panicked, because, in the interest of honesty and integrity to the story, I'd been brutally honest about the not-so-Christian activities I'd engaged in during high school and college, and it dawned on me that she might not know about all of them. And then I realized that complete strangers are going to read this stuff someday, and do I really want them to know how stupid I was? I keep reminding myself that this stuff happened years ago--some of it literally half my lifetime ago--and who on earth doesn't have a closetful of memories from their teens and 20's that just make them groan? But I feel like I have that whole Strobel image to maintain, that people will read the book and go "Lee Strobel's daughter did that? Didn't he teach her anything?" when of course it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with me. I'm struggling, too, with how much I tell about other people, because everyone's story is their own, and I don't feel right telling someone else's, but when they intersect with yours, you can't help but reveal some of their's as well.

The third book is about me, too, like I said, but in a different way. It's about a me that could have been, had God not plucked me out of the mire of my own stupidity. When I outlined it I kept thinking, "Yeah, I would have done that--yikes;" "Yeah, I would have been that addicted/stupid/wounded." It's scary to think what I might have been like, but then I realized that I'm STILL like that--it's just that God's grace has covered over those parts and allowed me to travel a different path than the one to which my natural compass points me. Praise God for grace!

Under 150!

Well, I've hit a pleasing milestone: I'm officially under 150 pounds. Not by much, but I don't care how many numbers come after the decimal as long as the numbers before it are in the 140's. walking is going well, although it's starting to be too hot to go at my normal time. I think we're going to have to start going earlier, which sucks, because I'm just not a morning person. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, right?

Dream On

I've blogged before about my bizarre dreams, and last night I had yet another one that I thought might amuse the general public. I was back in Arlington Heights, IL, where I grew up, and while waiting for an elevator at one of the big condo high-rises, I ran into Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. We ended up in the same elevator and started talking, and Angelina and I really hit it off. They invited me to come to dinner with them, which I did, and while we were eating Angelina asks, "Hey, what's that song that starts..." and she says the first line of a worship song. (I've been wracking my brain all morning trying to remember what song it was, but haven't figured it out yet.) So I sing it and she's all, "Yeah, that's the one!" So she starts singing it and I start singing the harmony, and she says, "Hey, would you sing that at our wedding?" Of course I said yes. Then the scene changes and we're in the gated community where my parents live, and this is apparently where they live, too. (Why they were visiting Arlington Heights, I don't know.) We're hanging out at their house and they want to take Maddox to Disneyland. (I don't know where the girl was she adopted in real life; she was never in the dream. Angelina was pregnant, though.) So we take a limo to Disneyland and there's this big group of their friends there and they have me take their picture, which I do. Then the scene changes again and it's the day of their wedding. It's really casual; the guys aren't in tuxes or anything, and I can't remember what Angelina was wearing, but I don't think it was even a dress. She was putting it on and complaining about how nothing ever fits her right, so I tell her I'm learning how to sew (sort of true in real life) and that, once I figure out how to tailor clothes, I'd be happy to help her out, for which she's all grateful. Then we're at the wedding reception and I'm at the head table with them, just hanging out, and they ask me what I'm going to tell the press when they ask me for details. I tell them I'll talk about how down-to-earth they are (which they were; very normal--and I was so proud of myself in the dream for not getting all melty around Brad), and about how much they love and respect each other. Oh--and Angelina mentioned something about being in the new X-Men movie as "Medina." *shrug*

So that was my night last night: hanging out (and supposedly singing, although that part never happened) at the Brangelina wedding. Not a bad way to spend an evening.

Just a bunch of riff-raff

Well, it turns out 9:15 is just a little too late to get in line to be in the Ellen DeGeneres audience. We would have made it had we been there at, say, 6:30, possibly even 7:00 this morning. But despite the fact that I was up at 4:45, that wouldn't have been possible. But hey, we still ended up in the riff-raff room, and Ellen came through there and danced with us, and I got to give her a hi-five, so that was cool. And I got a t-shirt and 4 free (and completely random) CD's that had nothing to do with the show. Had we been in the audience we would have gotten a digital video recorder from Canon, Paul Simon's new CD, and a year's supply of Pantene. (Which is really weird, because I use Pantene, and as I was showering this morning at oh-dark-thirty I actually thought to myself, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool if they gave us a year's supply of Pantene??")

I got to Anna's hotel at 7:45, and we went to some little cafe for a quick breakfast. Then we hightailed it to the NBC studios and actually found a great parking spot. When we got to the main entrance we saw a sign that said "Ellen DeGeneres Line Starts Here." And there was NO ONE there. We foolishly though we were the first ones in line, but the audience coordinator Anna had talked to on the phone said not to get there before 9, so to us it made sense. OS we gloated for a while, then some other folks showed up, and then the audience coordinator showed up and said, "Sorry folks, we've already filled the audience for today. I brought a huge group in around 9 this morning. (Turns out THREE HUNDRED PEOPLE had been there by 9 AM. Some had started lining up in the middle of the night!) Then he gave us a laminated number card and said to come back at 2:30 to get into the riff-raff room.

So off we went to Santa Monica to kill time, and then we came back at 1:30 just to be safe. Then, for the next THREE AND A HALF HOURS we stood around (STOOD, literally) watching Ellen reruns on the monitors and chatting with other riff-raff-bound folks. (And two lucky girls who knew someone on staff and got into the audience.) Once we got into the riff-raff room, though, it was pretty fun. We danced and Ellen came through, and they kept throwing t-shirts out and then passing out the stacks of CDs for whatever reason. Oh--the guests were Diane Keaton, Sherri Shepherd, and Paul Simon. We misunderstood earlier information (or it was miscommunicated--I actually am leaning towards that, given some of the other information issues we ran into) and thought Clinton and Bush, Sr. would be there too, but it turns out she'd been in New Orleans with them last week and interviewed them, and they just showed clips of that.

By 7 PM when we finally left we were flat-out exhausted, but it was definitely an adventure, and heaven knows I don't get to do a lot of adventuring today, so that was cool. I left her a card and a copy of Violette Between, so hopefully she'll get a chance to read it. Abby was a perfect angel for her Daddy today, so that made it a little easier to be away from her, although at one point I almost started crying because I missed her so much. She was asleep when I got home but woke up about 20 minutes later, and for once I was happy she'd woken up early because I wanted so much to go in and cuddle her.

Now it's 9:45 PM and I am beyond tired, but Anna and her friend Marlene stayed in LA to meet up with another friend of Anna's for dinner, and she hasn't called yet to say they're on their way down, so I'm trying to keep myself awake for them. Not sure it's gonna happen. Sorry girls, you may be on your own tonight. :)

The Ellen DeGeneres Show!

So tomorrow (Wednesday) I'm going to the taping of Ellen's 500th show--and it airs on Thursday! To find out when it airs in your city, click here. No clue where we'll be sitting--can't even say for sure we'll get in; I don't know how this kind of thing works, but I don't think it's guaranteed--but I'll be wearing a beige crinkled blouse with long sleeves and brown/beige pants. My hair is a lot longer than what you see in my profile photo; it's pretty much at my shoulders now. We're getting there at 9 AM to get in line, and it tapes at two. The guests: Bill Clinton and George Bush, Sr.! I'm bringing a copy of the book for Ellen--think I should bring one for Hillary and Barbara, too?

Violette Between Releases Today!

When I signed my Waterbrook contract back in 2002, today seemed soooo far away. But there's nothing like getting married and having a baby to make the time fly by!

I hope that you all enjoy it--it's not a sequel to "Worlds Collide," although I do have plans for one in the future. "Violette Between" asks the question: If you had the opportunity to relive your time with someone you've lost to death--a spouse, a child--would you do it, even if it meant giving up your future?

For those of you in book clubs, this book will definitely give you a lot of fodder for conversation. And my website, alisonstrobel.com, lists some ways your book club can do a Q & A with me after you've read one of my books.

If you read it and like it, please give me an Amazon review--and of course, suggest it to your friends. :)

Happy reading!

Gas or Groceries

Filled the van on Wednesday to the tune of 63 bucks for 18 gallons. Talk about painful; I've never spent that much to fill my tank. *sigh* I remember like it was yesterday the days when I budgeted $12.50 a week to fill my little Saturn. I even commuted back then.

So now the Morrow family is playing the game, "How long can we make this tank last?" I did my part yesterday by walking to the grocery store, thus killing two birds with one stone: my morning walk and our need for food. (Well, my need anyway; seeing as Dan eats, like, two times a day, his food lasts a heck of a lot longer than mine. I'm about to pop meal #4 in the oven and it's only 4 PM.) I figured it couldn't be any farther than the 3 miles I usually walk, and the hills would only make it better for me, right? Well, I didn't think about the fact that the hills coming back are a lot worse than going there--coming back you go uphill twice. By the time I got home I barely had the energy to put the groceries in the fridge before collapsing on the sofa. And then today my shins, ankles, and feet were crying, "Why do you hate us??"

Our self-imposed house arrest actually works well for me. We have a tendency to turn every need to leave the house into an excuse for a multi-hour excursion, which means I hardly ever get done all the stuff I need to do at home. But now I can see myself finally getting to the end of some projects that have been lingering on my to do list for months. My poor agent and publicist who have been patiently waiting for replies from me are no doubt sighing with relief, and whaddyaknow, we're actually caught up on laundry! It almost makes me glad gas is so freaking expensive.

Almost.

Because I need more ways to proctastinate.

Apparently The Place To Be is on MySpace.com, but until Monday I'd never even set a virtual foot on that site to see what all the buzz was about. My brother convinced me to sign up because he said it would be a good marketing tool for my book, so I now have yet another patch of internet real estate to my name. Thing is, I've never felt so stupid about a website. I have no idea what I'm doing there. I can't figure out how to get rid of those blasted ads all over the place (or if I eve can get rid of them--but it doesn't seem like everyone else's space has as many as mine does), can't figure out how to change my url and blog addresses, can't figure out how it is that so many strangers are finding me and asking to be my friend. (And of course, because I'm such a mercy-person, I can't bear to turn anyone down and risk hurting their feelings, so I've got all these weird people listed as my friends.) I have, however, reconnected with three old high school acquaintances.

SO now i'm trying to figure out how to maximize this thing for book promotion. My brother suggested making banners of my books, but again, I've no idea how to do it. He said you can usually just find someone who has something you like and ask them to show you how to do it, but I feel a little funny doing that. He has a slide show of photos on his, so I might just put the files of my books into a little slide show. I don't know. Maybe if I sit down and really put some time into it I'll figure out how to make everything look cool like everyone else's. I'm not used to having to work that hard at figuring this kind of stuff out; it's annoying.

Anyway, if any of you are MySpacers, come find me and say hi so I can ask you to be my friend and get some more normal people in there. :)

If you know a diabetic...

...then check out my friend Melissa Cook's new blog. It's kind of a "day in the life of a diabetic" type thing. She found out she was diabetic kind of by a fluke, just over a year ago. She was pulled out of class and sent directly to the ER when the student health center ran a blood test she needed for something else--her blood sugar level was astronomically high and she didn't have any clue. It's been a heck of a year for her, having to alter her lifestyle so drastically and rapidly, and she's been really helpful to my mom and me as we try to live the same way so my mom's hypoglycemia doesn't turn into diabetes and I don't get hypoglycemia. Please pass her blog info on to those you know who might benefit from it--the more the merrier as we look for decent snack alternatives and commiserate about the agony of eating out. :)

This diabetic diet thing has been killing me lately. (Technically the total opposite is true, but you know what I mean.) I really have to bite the bullet and start forcing myself to try foods I haven't liked in the past--hummus, raw red and green peppers, etc. I'm just sooooo sick of the foods I've been eating the last couple months. It's paying off--I am down to 152, which means I've lost over 50 pounds--but I'm almost to the point where I just don't care anymore because the food side of it is so dang hard. I've been letting myself stay hungry way too long lately because I don't want to eat the stuff I have but I can't bring myself to eat the stuff I used to eat because so little of it even sounds good anymore. (A small victory, that--even cereal doesn't satisfy me the way it used to.) So after I finish lunch today, I'm going to go through the list of foods I'm allowed to eat and figure out what I'm willing to try. I'm afraid I'll end up buying stuff and not liking it and it'll go to waste, but I guess I have to take that chance if I'm going to keep this up. Hopefully the thought of setting Abby on the right path with give me the willpower I've been lacking...

They're here!

They arrived in four boxes stacked on the front step, and Dan, knowing how eagerly I awaited them, brought a box to my friend Tania's house where we were hanging out so I could slice it open and see them first. That's right, "Violette Between" is officially a book! Knowing that it's entirely too late to make any changes whatsoever, I can finally let go of this particular book and just accept that it is what it is, and try to be confident that whatever story God wanted me to tell, I told. And what a fitting reward for yesterday's achievement--I wrote for the first time since Abby's arrival. She took a 2.5 hour nap, during which I opened the outline for book #3, refrained from flagellating myself when I read how horrible it was, and began to rework it into something that an editor might actually consider the beginning of a decent work of fiction.

So now I turn to you, dear readers, and ask you to let me know if you happen to have any personal connections with bookstore owners/managers, directors of women's ministries, etc. who might help generate some buzz for the book if I send them a copy. And if you're in SoCal and know of anyplace that would like to host a reading/signing, let me know that, too!

Not "Death AND Taxes," but Death FROM Taxes

FOUR HOURS. That's how long it took us to do our taxes last night. Yeah, yeah, I know, major procrastination, but who cares as long as it's done by the 17th, right? And I tip my hat to the folks at Turbo Tax who, despite not including some really useful functions, have at least made it possible for the average person to do taxes without having a coronary or filing for divorce right after filing their 1040.

Even so, I nearly went on a killing spree driven by sheer frustration trying to sort receipts and calculate mileage and figure out WHY WHY WHY Turbo Tax makes you start entire sections over instead of letting you go back one screen half the time. We lost close to $500 in deductions thanks to some flaws in their software design, and while I tried desperately to figure out how to get them back, Abby decided it was time to scream and not be happy with anything we tried to do for her. You know, I think someone could run for president on the one-issue platform of MAJOR tax reform and win by a landslide. S/he'd have my vote. Truly, it's ridiculous that you need to either go to college or by computer software just to understand the stuff if you do more than your average 40 hour a week job. Try living the American dream by starting a business or being self-employed, and suddenly the American government is bludgeoning you over the head with eight million pages of tax law that you need to master if you want to get back every cent that you've the right to have. I have no problem paying taxes--I'm not an anarchist, I know we need a government, and taxes make it run--but when I get cheated out of my own money, I get a wee bit testy.

Anyway, after thinking last night about the nearly-guaranteed win for a candidate promising sweeping tax reform, my subconscious of course ran with the idea and made me dream that I was running for president. Oddly, though, my platform was based on restoring morality to our society and had nothing to do with taxes. Whatever. Anyway, it was cool doing the press conferences and debates with my competition.

Do you have any creative ideas for these?

I was all excited when we got back from Vegas last night (at midnight--oi!) because a box from Waterbrook was sitting on the front step. I thought for sure it was my advance copies of "Violette Between," but no, it was a box of about a hundred "Violette Between" covers. I got the same thing when "Worlds Collide" came out, and I'm still none the wiser on what the heck to do with them. I used the "Worlds Collide" ones as invitations to my book launch party, and they looked pretty cool, but I don't know if I'm doing a party this time, and even if I did I'd still have a ton left over. I really want to use them for SOMETHING--it seems like a waste to just let them sit in my office--and obviously the publisher thinks they'll be handy or else they wouldn't spend the money on them for me. I just wish they'd send a list of ideas with them! Last time I also received a box of about a thousand "Worlds Collide" postcards, and again, they just sat around because I didn't know what to do with them. I handed out about 20 to strangers at the CBA convention, and when I went to the Women of Faith convention I stood outside and handed them out to women as they entered the building, which used up probably two hundred or so. So, point being, I assume a box of "Violette Between" postcards (which are honest-to-goodness postcards, with a split down the center to separate the address section from the short book description and a "place stamp here" box in the upper corner) are on their way as well, and again I've no idea what to do with them.

So, my question to you is: What would you do with a box of 100 book covers and 1000 postcards? I am willing to spend a bit of money doing something with them--this is marketing, after all, and you've gotta be willing to put some money behind your book. The postcards don't have any space to write on the back, really, unless you write a message in the address section, in which case you're obviously not sending them anywhere. The book covers are blank, and they're the WHOLE cover, back and front, and are actual book size. (I sliced off the back part for the party invitations last year.)

Incentive: best idea gets a free copy of the book!

The Wagon

Well, I was on the wagon for quite a while. Sat towards the front, far from the edge where it's easier to fall off. But then the view out the sides caught my eye, and I moved to the back to get a better look, and wouldn't you know it--we hit a bump in the road and I toppled out.

Yes, I fell off the wagon.

And I didn't just fall. I fell hard. Twisted my ankle when I landed, and the only building on the side of the road was Carb Haven. What choice did I have? I hobbled in, sat at the counter, and had my fill.

Pizza. Soda. Bread. Chips. Chocolate. More chocolate. Sugar. Oh my.

But the wagon came back for me. The driver wrestled me from my seat, and tossed me back aboard, and took off, leaving Carb Haven in its dust. And after two days of eating the way I should, I lost the weight I'd put back on, and two more pounds besides.

49 pounds lost so far, in three months. Long may it last...

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!!!