Just Not In The Mood

I usually love painting.

I usually love how it can make a wall with scuffs and marks look all pretty and new again.

I usually love putting COLOR on a wall--- especially if it's a color I've never used before.

Especially if it's a color as yummy as the one I'm using.

But this:

And me?

And this:

And me?

We're not on speaking terms at the moment.

Christmas Poetry

Time was, I'd write a Christmas poem to go in my Christmas card each year. As much as I loved doing it, for the last couple of years, I seem to lack the inspiration and the desire to sacrifice the incredible amount of time and work it takes to write one. In an effort to convince myself that it's a tradition that didn't die so much as it is hibernating, I thought I'd post one of my past favorites:


When I think of Christ's birth
In days long gone by
I wonder who I'd be like
If I had been nearby.

Would I be like the Innkeeper
So kindhearted and so good
That even though I don't have much
I'd still give all I could.

Would I be like the Shepherds
So humble and so mild
That the angels would come to me
to share news of the Christ child.

Would I be like the Wise Men
So dedicated and so meek
That even though the way is long
It's Christ I'll always seek.

Sometimes I feel like the travelers
So weary and unaware
Too distracted to know Christ is near...
Too busy to even care.

Christmas can get so hectic
While trying to make things so great
This year I want to remember
That it's for Him we celebrate.

I'll remember with each gift I give
With every carol that I sing
With every greeting that I hear
It's about the birth of my King.

O Christmas Cards

O Christmas Cards
O Christmas Cards
Oh, how I love to get you.
When you're deliv'rd by hand or mail
The sight of you makes my heart swell
O Christmas Cards
O Christmas Cards
Oh, how I love to get you.

O Christmas Cards
O Christmas Cards
Your numbers dwindle each year.
Sometimes I fear you're of the past
I best enjoy you while you last
O Christmas Cards
O Christmas Cards
Your numbers dwindle each year.

O Christmas Cards
O Christmas Cards
You add loads of Christmas cheer.
I've only got a few; I'm sad
Each one makes me insanely glad
O Christmas Cards
O Christmas Cards
You add loads of Christmas cheer.

Seriously? We're at THAT milestone?

This is me with my brothers, my mom, and my sister Janet in front of the [unfinished] house I grew up in. I was five in this picture, and we're pretty excited to be living here, even if it doesn't have all the bricks it should, or carpet and sheetrock in all the right places yet. And even if every one of our beds is in the family room-- the only room other than the kitchen that is finished enough to house us.

We started building the house when I was three. And believe me when I tell you, it was WE. You see, my parents got the crazy notion to build the house ourselves. OURSELVES!! As in, no builder whatsoever. Well, excepting my dad. He's a pretty amazing builder of many things. I tell you, the three year old me, my baby brother, my five year old brother, and occasionally my older half brother: Completely invaluable when it comes to building a house. Really. We weren't a hindrance at all. They couldn't have done it without us.

I lived in this house until the day I got married and moved to a two bedroom shanty of an apartment the next city over. Two years later, we bought the house I live in now. A house that we'd planned on living in for three to five years.

The milestone?

I have now lived in this house LONGER than I lived in the house I grew up in!! Seriously? When did that happen? (And you can stop trying to do the math in your head right now. It doesn't mean I'm getting old. It doesn't! Spring chick here.)

The Romance Factor

Do you like romance in a book? (And by romance, in NO way do I mean s - e - x. I mean the falling in love parts. Or the being in love parts.)

I like it. As long as it's not the main storyline. And as long as it isn't terribly descriptive. I like to cry while reading a book. I like to laugh while reading a book. I like to gasp while reading a book. I do not like to have my cheeks flush while reading a book.

And that alone is about 50% of the reason why I don't write Young Adult books. The cheek flushing. I mean you can't get away from that kind of stuff when you're writing YA. The excitement that forms inside the main characters when falling in love? How a first kiss feels? Any touching that goes on? Blech. If I wasn't too embarrassed to sit in front of a computer and write about that kind of stuff, I'd definitely be too embarrassed to actually let someone read it.

But twice in my life, I've come across a book where the romance factor is just sweet. Books where I think, "Hey. I could handle writing romance into a book if I wrote it like that."

I think what both books had was subtlety.

The first book was one I read months ago--- The King of Attolia. The second I finished just last night--- Fire. (And if you don't know anything about Fire, it's a "companion" book to Graceling. And by "companion," they apparently mean "has very little to do with Graceling, but nonetheless seriously rocks the house in a clear-your-entire-schedule-because-you-won't-want-to-put-it-down kind of way." And if you don't know what Graceling is, we need to talk.)


Fire is the girl main character. She falls in love with the boy main character (I'm not even going to say his name, because it then it will change what you think the first time you meet him). They fell in love slowly, while a BUNCH of other stuff is going on. Tons. Them falling in love was definitely not the main story line. What I loved is the way the author made us (as readers) come to love the main characters. Then when they fell in love with each other, we got it. We understood. We knew why they loved each other. We felt what they felt.

So, toward the end of the book, when they had their first kiss, there didn't need to be any fanfare. The fact that it was the first kiss wasn't even mentioned. She didn't write how the characters felt about it--- we already knew.

I love that.

(And I'm not saying that there wasn't any s - e - x in the book, because there was more than I'd like going on. We just weren't in the room for it. Whew.)

Go Read!

Are you ever doing something (like vacuuming, unloading the dishwasher, checking Facebook, grocery shopping... whatever), and a little itching inside says, "Hey. Go read [whatever book you're in the middle of]. Immerse yourself in that world for a little bit. Find out what happens next."

And even though you have stuff to do, you just want to drop everything and listen to the itching voice?

I got that last night. And then, with a bit of a hysterical giggle, I realized that the book the voice was telling me to immerse myself in was the next book I'm writing! The one that I've been daydreaming about for the last few weeks.

The more time I spend in the world I've created, with the characters that live there, the more excited I get! It's an intriguing place-- I think this book's going to be really cool. I can't wait for you to read it! I can't wait to write it. It doesn't have a title yet (I know-- you're shocked), so I'll just call it what it is in my head. Green Bomb. Not much of a title, I know. It's more of an inciting incident for the setting of my story. Someday it will have a more appropriate name.

With such a little amount of writing time, I'm sure I can't just half it between editing Power of Vilcabamba and writing Green Bomb. I think I'll take the advice of my writing group and put the editing on hold for a bit. I'll trust that getting a good break from Power of Vilcabamba will help me to be more objective on what needs to change.

Plus, if I get to work on Green Bomb, there's less of a chance that the itching will turn into a unrelenting, vicious clawing.

Kicked

I haven't had one of these:

Or one of these:


for a full month!

To my knowledge, I haven't traded it for any other addictions. Let's see. Nope-- still can't convince myself to find the time to exercise regularly. And, dang it, I currently have four loads of clean laundry in my washroom waiting to be folded.

Conversation I Never Anticipated Having #1283

You know how, every now and then, you have a conversation with a kid and think, "There's no way I could have ever guessed I'd have this conversation... EVER!" I just had one of those moments.

The setting:

Alecia and I were getting the Christmas tree ready to decorate. I was stringing the lights, and she was checking each strand to make sure the lights all worked. One set was not as bright as the others, so I set it aside. I hoped not to use it, but as I got closer to the end, it became obvious that I'd have to if I wanted to cover the whole tree.

The conversation:

Alecia: "Using dull lights is better than using no lights at all. Just like having a dead cat is better than having no cat at all."

Me: "What?! I'm pretty sure that I'd rather have no cat than to have a dead cat."

Alecia: "You can still pet a dead cat."

Me: "Ew! Yeah, until it gets all diseased!"

Alecia: "Imagine if you were very poor and very hungry. I'm betting you'd much rather have a dead cat that you can eat instead of no cat at all. Before it gets all diseased, of course."



As a mom, I prefer to think of this conversation in two ways:

1. That was a very "glass half full" way to look at it.
2. If Alecia were ever stranded in the wilderness, with no hope of rescue, she'd be able to survive.

As a mom, I prefer to NOT think of this conversation this way:

That whenever Alecia pets a cat, she is thinking, "Mmm. Dinner."

Evil Friday

Outer Darkness sounds dark enough, it could be called black.

A cat crossing your path is bad luck when the cat is black.
It's wise to avoid black holes like your life depends on it.
The stock market crashed on Black Monday.
Only evil people join "The Dark Side."
The pot AND the kettle are black.

Now, I don't think that black is evil. I rather like the color. I'm just pointing out that it's not a stretch to say that Black Friday Is Evil.

Commercialism of Christmas aside, shopping the day after Thanksgiving is a great way to get you fully immersed in the Christmas season. I used to LOVE it. That is, until the stores ruined it.

I hate it for a mix of reasons ranging from sleep deprivation to false advertising to unbelievably large crowds of crazy, sleep deprived, competitive, and often frustrated people (mostly crazy). And now that they've made it so crazy, I hate leaving my house on that day!

And what's with calling it Black Friday, anyway? It's not ALL about what it does for the store, right? If it's about us, they should call it "Amazing Deals Friday," or "Perfect Shopping Day Friday," or "Non-Procrastinating Friday," or even "Kick-Start Friday." Or, if you're stuck on it being about color, name it "Colorful Friday."

Maybe my attitude comes from being burned for a few years in a row on this special day (burned... as in black... as in EVIL! I'm just sayin'. Logic wins here.)

And I know that not everyone feels the same.

It's my sister Janet's second favorite day of the year. It should have federal holiday status in her mind. It should be on all the calendars you buy, and should be a day everyone takes off work to celebrate.


She loves coming home so early in the day with her arms laden with great deals. I think that when she goes shopping on Black Friday, the world turns as green as summer for the day. The sky is filled with rainbows. Choirs of angels sing. The sun smiles down on her even when she starts shopping at an hour that is indisputably still the middle of the night.

I'm happy for her (even if I don't understand her).

So, where do you stand? Love it like we all should have a huge party, or hate it with the passion of a roaring forest fire?

My Hero

Cory hung up the phone after speaking with his scout leader and said, "Pack meeting is this week, and it's about heroes. I need to bring a picture of my hero, and talk about them.

"So I'm going to need a picture of grandpa, and this is what I'm going to say:

"'My grandpa is really cool, and he does lots of cool things. He can fix pretty much anything. He makes lots of cool things. He knows a lot about everything. He's really nice, because he is willing to teach anyone about the things he knows. That's why he's my hero.'

"So... What do you think?"

What do I think, Cory? I think you're a thoughtful, insightful kid who really recognizes a hero when he sees one.

Why old people rock

I hope that when I'm this age, I enjoy life as much as they do!

The End.

I finally got to write those two words!

The End.

Gosh, it's even fun writing it here. But it was funner when I wrote it at the very end of my book. Today, all is right with the world.


"So, Peggy. Does that mean you're ready to find a publisher?"

Um... No. Not at all. Because first comes the fun part!

Editing.


"Editing.... That's like fixing punctuation and grammar and spelling, right?"

No.

Well, I guess that's a small percentage of it, but that part's mostly taken care of. And it's all because of this lady:


She's Ms. Stakeless, my inner editor. She walks around in my head while I'm typing, ruler in hand, ready to rap my knuckles.

She demands that I use correct punctuation.
She demands that I use correct spelling.
She demands that I use correct grammar.
She demands that I don't use words that end in "ing" or "ly."
She demands that I vary my sentence structure.
She demands that I don't use the same words too close to one another.

She tells me that if I take it slow and get it right, I'll be happier later. "Slow but steady wins the race," she says WAY too often.

I'm a little afraid of her, so I listen and I do what she says. My knuckles are pansies.

I'm trying to get her fired, though, so I can replace her with this guy:



His name is Doodle, but he prefers to be called Dood. (Heavy on the "oo.") Sure, he's a punk. And sure, he needs to pull up his shorts a bit. And after a while, that surfer lingo might get a little old.

But he's a genius.

And I've heard he'd be quite content to surf while I type, and only get picky about the editing when I'm good and ready to edit.

Plus, cartoon Inner Editors just seem so much more... fun. If I can ever find a way to get rid of Ms. Stakeless, I think I'd enjoy having Dood take her place in my head.


"So, what is it you have left to do, then?"

Well, for one, go through this stack of revision notes:


When you squish this stack of papers completely flat, it's well over two inches deep! Some of the papers are full chapters, with critique group member comments. Some are my own notes things I need to change.

Some are small things, like "change the wording on this paragraph--- it makes the reader feel like they are being told what's happening, instead of experiencing it."

Others cover several chapters, or even the entire book, like "Lincoln doesn't have a strong enough character arc." Or "I need to get to the action quicker."

Or, the biggest... The one that may prove to be the bane of my existence: Find 15,000 words that can be deleted.

Yep. Fifteen Thousand. Or, roughly translated, sixty eight pages.


My book is for 8-12 or 13 year olds. Not all kids that age are okay with picking up a 350 page book. Things will be better if I can make it shorter.

Needless to say, what lies ahead of me is a fairly big job. The Queen's army, a band of protectors that can be seen roaming the streets of my brain day and night, carry the banner of Hope and Determination. Usually, they're uncontested by anything of great significance. About two hours after I wrote "The End," a large opposing army carrying the banners of Doubt and Overwhelmedness set up camp around my brain city, though. They're trying to give Hope and Determination a run for their money.

I keep sending Hope and Determination reinforcements. They've done me good in the past-- I'm sure they pull through for me once again.

And, some day, when the mound of editing is all said and done, maybe Ms. Stakeless will be so worn out, she'll beg to be fired.

One can only hope.

Tuesday Night Lights-- Cory

I really enjoyed watching Cory play this year. He's not a fan of being on a sports team, but we finally talked him into it. (It can be very hard to know that your team will count on you, and you're not sure you're good enough!) When we toss a football around as a family, he rocks at passing and receiving. After much cajoling, we finally convinced him to give it a try.


Lance got to co-coach. I think he had as much fun as Cory did. And I think it was good for Cory to call all his teammates twice a week to remind them about practices.




We had an hour wait each football night between Alecia's game and Cory's game. Cory's favorite part about this hour was tossing a football back and forth with his dad. My favorite part was bringing PAM along and writing. In between catching a few passes with my camera, of course.









At the last game (or so we thought!) they let us know that there was going to be a tournament the following Saturday. Cory got to play in three games that day, and they won two of the three-- by a lot. Cory had some of his best games that day, and pulled a total of six flags! Their team ended up winning third place overall. He was pretty excited. It was a great way to end the season for him! It may have even increased his chances of saying yes to playing another season a small fraction. I'm keeping my fingers crossed.




He looks happy enough to want to play another season, doesn't he?

Tuesday Night Lights--- Alecia

I love football! But never as much as when it's my own kids playing. Even if they're playing in freezing cold, pounding rain, wind blown weather. After all, it's FOOTBALL! (Imagine me saying that in a deep, manly voice. Possibly with a grunt afterwards.)




Alecia at quarterback. About five seconds after this shot was taken, she went down as someone grabbed her flag in a tackle-football-ish move, pushing her right into another player's knee. She earned her first football induced bloody nose, and I'm not talking just a little bit. I told her that shedding that much blood propelled her into big league status. After my congratulations, and her subsequent eye-roll, she jumped right back into the game, and played with all she had.




One night, another team didn't have enough players show up to play one cold, rainy night, so Alecia switched teams and helped them out. I could tell that the other coach had so much fun with his players! They didn't get in a huddle, they got in a CUDDLE.


When Alecia played soccer, she was on a team with about eight blond ponytailed girls. I had to look for the correct color of shin guards to quickly find her on the field.


In football, though, she's the only blond ponytail on any team! Makes it so much easier to quickly spot her.


It's only NOT tackle football part of the time...


Alecia in a huddle with her team.


Alecia is always the first to line up for every play. Even if she has to push a ref or two out of the way.


Right before Alecia's last game, she told me, "I was born to play this game!!"

This is Alecia with her football buddy, Mason. (Do you like the bunny ears she's giving him?)



After the very last game, they got their medals. One of Alecia’s coaches handed them out, and it went something like this:

“Um.... So-and-so. Here’s your medal for being the number one ummm... _____(blocker, runner, playing around-er, sweet kid, hiker, etc).” [Places medal around kid’s neck.]

Then it was Alecia’s turn. “Alecia. Here’s your medal for being the number one Butt Picker.”

You read that right. Number. One. Butt. Picker. Great award for the only girl in the league, huh?

Now, if you don’t have boys who play football, an explanation is in order. Butt Picker is a football play. (And, yes, get a bunch of boys together and they give plays names like this. Not just Alecia’s team. This is a well-known play.) The center hikes the ball, the quarterback acts like he grabs the ball from the center’s hands, but doesn’t. He takes off running like he does, then the butt picker grabs the ball from the center’s hands, and takes off the other direction.

Alecia rocks at this play. She ran 90% of the length of the field using this play during the last game.

After she received her illustrious award, she ran to me, so very excited. “Mom, I’m the number one Butt Picker! I mean, I knew I was good, but apparently I’m NUMBER ONE at it!”

Yeah... Number one butt picker. I’ve never been more proud.