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.