I started a new discussion on the Amazon boards for the first time in my life. I've never even participated in a discussion on any board, anywhere, before. Don't know what got into me.
But you know what? It's pretty darn fun. People thought I was a troll, people thought I was an idiot for my opinion, and then other people defended me. I got to say some sarcastic things, I expressed an unpopular opinion, but some people responded well to my posts and I also learned a few things about myself.
Example: If I hear an actor/actress or musician say something stupid or political that I don't agree with, I avoid their movies or music. The personality and opinions of that person taint my view of their work. But I don't have that issue with authors. An author can spew about other authors, they can compare themselves to Hemingway and Steinbeck, and I can still love their books. I don't know why that is - perhaps it's because I am a writer. I don't have an answer, but at least now I recognize the double standard. Because of this realization, I am going to pay more attention to how authors conduct themselves and try not to support those who act unprofessionally. Thank you, Amazon Discussion Boards.
I didn't realize it at the time I started my discussion, but my real name, Andrea Ring, was posted (guess I don't use an alias on Amazon). Kind of cool, because I wasn't trying to hide. A lot of people do that online, and the anonymity of communicating behind a computer screen allows people to say anything and everything without fear of reprisal. It's not in me to insult people anyway, but it felt good for my opinions to be out there and totally linked to me. I was straight-up, honest, and - I hope - polite. Looking forward to joining another discussion in the future.
BTW, my post on Amazon was about Laurell K Hamilton and the vitriol directed at her and her books. Touchy subject, apparently. Who knew?
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Luckiest Woman in the World
I don't think I say it enough - I have an amazing husband.
Every morning, he rolls over, kisses me, and tells me he loves me. Every morning. Without fail.
He supports my writing, my need to write. Since I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month, he puts the kids to bed and tells me to get my fingers on the keyboard. And he tells me how proud he is of me, no matter what my daily word count.
Micahel makes me feel like the most desired, sexy, smart, capable woman in the world. But you know what I really am?
The luckiest.
Love you, Baby. Thanks for being you.
Every morning, he rolls over, kisses me, and tells me he loves me. Every morning. Without fail.
He supports my writing, my need to write. Since I'm doing NaNoWriMo this month, he puts the kids to bed and tells me to get my fingers on the keyboard. And he tells me how proud he is of me, no matter what my daily word count.
Micahel makes me feel like the most desired, sexy, smart, capable woman in the world. But you know what I really am?
The luckiest.
Love you, Baby. Thanks for being you.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Social Networking if You're an Introvert
I admit it - I am an introvert. I like being by myself, I'd rather have coffee with a close friend than go to a party, and though I've had a Twitter account for three years, I've never tweeted, not even once. I visit my Facebook page once a month. And even if I enjoyed all this social networking stuff, I really don't have time.
I'm not even good at writing regular blog posts.
So what is an introvert supposed to do, when everyone in the world is tweeting and posting and sharing?
I guess I have to tweet and post and share.
It's against my nature, though. I don't need to know what you ate for breakfast, or what your boss said during that meeting, or that you are exhausted. If you're my friend, I'll find all that out when I speak to you. I certainly don't think you're interested in the minutiae of my life. I don't even like to post a comment on someone else's blog, for heaven's sake.
But the signs are there. This social networking thing isn't going away. So I'm going to have force myself to use it, or be left far behind.
This weekend I'll be playing with Twitter. And updating my Facebook photo album.
Who knows? Maybe I'll even comment on Nathan Bransford's blog (shudder).
It could happen.
I'm not even good at writing regular blog posts.
So what is an introvert supposed to do, when everyone in the world is tweeting and posting and sharing?
I guess I have to tweet and post and share.
It's against my nature, though. I don't need to know what you ate for breakfast, or what your boss said during that meeting, or that you are exhausted. If you're my friend, I'll find all that out when I speak to you. I certainly don't think you're interested in the minutiae of my life. I don't even like to post a comment on someone else's blog, for heaven's sake.
But the signs are there. This social networking thing isn't going away. So I'm going to have force myself to use it, or be left far behind.
This weekend I'll be playing with Twitter. And updating my Facebook photo album.
Who knows? Maybe I'll even comment on Nathan Bransford's blog (shudder).
It could happen.
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
When You Are Disappointed
I've already blogged a bit about the family drama - Grandma and Grandpa die, and suddenly their kids are fighting over the leftover crumbs (super simplification, but you get the idea). But I had a little sliver of hope that the family would still pull together after the inital grief had passed.
I was wrong to hope. I know that now.
My aunt and uncle have chosen money over family. Simple as that. They are the have-nots, the ones who do not own their own home, who do not have a current spouse, who relied on mommy and daddy to constantly prop them up. And they are resentful because of it.
I've long known this about my uncle, but I am disappointed to concede this about my aunt. She has been golden to us - close to my children, helpful, sweet, kind, caring in the best sort of way. I love her very much. There is nothing Mike and I would not have done for her, and I thought she felt the same way about us.
But the facts have outed her. She's been caught in numerous lies. She has betrayed her siblings, and she has put her own three wonderful children in the horrible "in-the-middle" position - defending their mother (who is clearly wrong), or giving up a loving and honest extended family. Actually, the extended family will not turn on her children, but it puts them in a tough position nonetheless.
I wanted to believe my aunt's lies. I wanted to believe that fear of being on her own, grief over losing her mother, fear of facing a move out of a home she's lived in for almost 40 years straight drove her to do some stupid things. I wanted to believe that she hadn't thought through the consequences of her actions, and once she had, she would come to her senses and right the wrongs.
I was mistaken.
My aunt acted out of resentment. The fact is, she feels that she is owed more than her fair share. Even if we accept that this is true (which we don't, but I'll play along), she still acted deceitfully. If she was in the right, why the deceit? Why the lies? None of her excuses hold water, and I am forced to accept that she will no longer be welcome in my life or in the lives of my children.
Dear aunt, I will miss you very much. My childen will miss you very much. Best of luck on your lonely road.
I was wrong to hope. I know that now.
My aunt and uncle have chosen money over family. Simple as that. They are the have-nots, the ones who do not own their own home, who do not have a current spouse, who relied on mommy and daddy to constantly prop them up. And they are resentful because of it.
I've long known this about my uncle, but I am disappointed to concede this about my aunt. She has been golden to us - close to my children, helpful, sweet, kind, caring in the best sort of way. I love her very much. There is nothing Mike and I would not have done for her, and I thought she felt the same way about us.
But the facts have outed her. She's been caught in numerous lies. She has betrayed her siblings, and she has put her own three wonderful children in the horrible "in-the-middle" position - defending their mother (who is clearly wrong), or giving up a loving and honest extended family. Actually, the extended family will not turn on her children, but it puts them in a tough position nonetheless.
I wanted to believe my aunt's lies. I wanted to believe that fear of being on her own, grief over losing her mother, fear of facing a move out of a home she's lived in for almost 40 years straight drove her to do some stupid things. I wanted to believe that she hadn't thought through the consequences of her actions, and once she had, she would come to her senses and right the wrongs.
I was mistaken.
My aunt acted out of resentment. The fact is, she feels that she is owed more than her fair share. Even if we accept that this is true (which we don't, but I'll play along), she still acted deceitfully. If she was in the right, why the deceit? Why the lies? None of her excuses hold water, and I am forced to accept that she will no longer be welcome in my life or in the lives of my children.
Dear aunt, I will miss you very much. My childen will miss you very much. Best of luck on your lonely road.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
What Love Looks Like by Kurt Bensworth
Thursday night, in less than three hours, I finished a charming book by Kurt Bensworth titled "What Love Looks Like."
This book describes the 16-year-old protag's first love. There are many things I loved about the story.
First, Bensworth's characterization draws you in and makes you root for the characters. I wanted the protag to get the girl. I felt his desire, his excitement, his passion, his frustrations. I sympathized with him. This is so important for me, as a reader. If I don't care about or like the characters, I have a hard time liking a book.
Second, Bensworth nailed the protag's voice and inner turmoil. Action and dialogue were believable and true-to-life. After reading some of the protag's dialogue, I would often find myself going, "Yep. That's exactly what a 16-year-old guy would say (or think)." And this kept me in the story, kept the story flowing smoothly. I hate reading dialogue that leaves me going, "Huh? That character would never say that. He'd never use that word." Bensworth never got it wrong.
Third, this book is primarily set in my hometown of Tustin, California. The setting was richly and accurately described, and I loved being able to recognize landmarks and streets in the story. I've never read another book set in Tustin before.
Fourth, this story had a message (or two), conveyed in a way that didn't beat me over the head. There's nothing like the experience of our first love - nothing can compare, and nothing else in our life will ever come close. And that first love changes us, lets us see the possibilities and opens us up to those that come our way in the future.
Life is also short. If someone made a great impact on us in the past, it's important to let them know. Get in touch. Reach out. Our lives can only be richer for the experience, and you never know when it may be too late.
Thanks, Mr. Bensworth, for an honest, touching read. And for helping me remember my own first love (Scotty Medford, are you out there somewhere?).
Buy the book and read more about Kurt Bensworth at www.kurtbensworth.com.
This book describes the 16-year-old protag's first love. There are many things I loved about the story.
First, Bensworth's characterization draws you in and makes you root for the characters. I wanted the protag to get the girl. I felt his desire, his excitement, his passion, his frustrations. I sympathized with him. This is so important for me, as a reader. If I don't care about or like the characters, I have a hard time liking a book.
Second, Bensworth nailed the protag's voice and inner turmoil. Action and dialogue were believable and true-to-life. After reading some of the protag's dialogue, I would often find myself going, "Yep. That's exactly what a 16-year-old guy would say (or think)." And this kept me in the story, kept the story flowing smoothly. I hate reading dialogue that leaves me going, "Huh? That character would never say that. He'd never use that word." Bensworth never got it wrong.
Third, this book is primarily set in my hometown of Tustin, California. The setting was richly and accurately described, and I loved being able to recognize landmarks and streets in the story. I've never read another book set in Tustin before.
Fourth, this story had a message (or two), conveyed in a way that didn't beat me over the head. There's nothing like the experience of our first love - nothing can compare, and nothing else in our life will ever come close. And that first love changes us, lets us see the possibilities and opens us up to those that come our way in the future.
Life is also short. If someone made a great impact on us in the past, it's important to let them know. Get in touch. Reach out. Our lives can only be richer for the experience, and you never know when it may be too late.
Thanks, Mr. Bensworth, for an honest, touching read. And for helping me remember my own first love (Scotty Medford, are you out there somewhere?).
Buy the book and read more about Kurt Bensworth at www.kurtbensworth.com.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Right Vs. Wrong
Tyler asked me today, "How do you know what's right and what's wrong?"
Yikes. How do I answer that without enrolling him in Philosophy 101?
My basic answer was, "Things are right if they don't hurt anyone or yourself, and if they follow the rules. Think about what God would do, or what he would want you to do."
His reply: "Mom, I can't do what God can do - I'm not magic." (Not sure how he came to believe that God does magic, but that's a discussion for another day.)
I think my answer was adequate for a five-year-old, but it doesn't really suffice otherwise. I certainly do not believe that the "rules" (the law) are a good basis for right and wrong, though we have to behave that way or face the consequences. I'm not particularly religious, though I consider myself a Christian and would agree with the Ten Commandments. So in the absence of a religious guide, or a lawful one, how do we define right and wrong?
Yikes. How do I answer that without enrolling him in Philosophy 101?
My basic answer was, "Things are right if they don't hurt anyone or yourself, and if they follow the rules. Think about what God would do, or what he would want you to do."
His reply: "Mom, I can't do what God can do - I'm not magic." (Not sure how he came to believe that God does magic, but that's a discussion for another day.)
I think my answer was adequate for a five-year-old, but it doesn't really suffice otherwise. I certainly do not believe that the "rules" (the law) are a good basis for right and wrong, though we have to behave that way or face the consequences. I'm not particularly religious, though I consider myself a Christian and would agree with the Ten Commandments. So in the absence of a religious guide, or a lawful one, how do we define right and wrong?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Inappropriate Clothing
So Hannah's party went swimmingly, and she made out like a bandit - tons and tons of gift cards. Two of them were for Forever 21 and Wet Seal.
These are not my favorite stores, but I trust Hannah to follow our rules about appropriate clothing, so I sent her off with Grandfather for her annual birthday shopping spree without a second thought.
And what did my darling teen bring home? Ripped yellow short-shorts that barely cover her butt cheeks, and ten (ten!) see-through tank tops. I don't know if any of you are up on the latest teen fashions, but every top out there is made with this gauzy, see-through material, and the styles are loose and low-cut.
Hannah has a lot of camis to wear under questionable tops, but even the camis would not be enough coverage for the tanks she brought home. You could see her bra straps and the sides of her bra with all of them. So, we made her return them.
Problem? Wet Seal and Forever 21 do not allow returns for sale merchandise, and even on regularly priced stuff, you can only exchange or get a store credit. No cash, even if you paid in cash.
I returned to the stores with her two hours after she'd made her purchases. I had to beg, plead, bargain, and threaten just to get the items returned, and even then, I had to settle for exchange at Wet Seal and credit at Forever 21, even though she paid cash above and beyond her two gift cards.
We wandered Wet Seal for a good twenty minutes, desperate to find something appropriate to purchase. We settled on cowboy boots. Seriously, other than jeans, they were the only things I would let her wear.
Hannah is only 13, and when she's 15 or 16, I will let up on her. But she has no body to speak of, and all the styles look downright silly on her. But what do you do as a parent? The Girls sections are too little-girl for her - even I concede that. But it jumps from sweet and innocent to hooker. Isn't there an in between?
Poor Hannah. She was quite brave today, and I admired her courage. We had to face the salesgirls who had helped her earlier, who had picked out all the clothing I insisted she return. To Hannah's great embarrassment, they all remembered her, and she had to face them with her MOTHER. She kept a stiff upper lip, though.
Hannah's main argument to me about keeping the clothes was that everyone wears them. They are the latest styles. They were recommended to her by the salesgirls. No one even notices a bra strap. Why am I the only parent who cares?
As we navigated the mall, I pointed out all the teens wearing these great tanks and see-through shirts, and we looked at all the bras on display. Hannah was aghast. "I never even noticed," she whispered to me. "That girl needs to wash her bra - it's disgusting!" And in line at Wet Seal, a teen (16 or 17) in a cute summer dress with spaghetti straps stood in front of us. The straps of her dress came together in the middle of her back, pinned with a flower. The girl had on a nude bra (not very clean, either, or at least well-worn), and she'd tied the bra straps together in back with brown thread to mirror the straps of the dress. Of course, the bra straps were half an inch thicker than the straps of the dress, and the whole thing looked ridiculous. Hannah had to stifle her giggles with a coughing fit.
She finally got it. She understands that even though her peers day-to-day might not notice her bra straps, every adult, teacher, and boy does. And it's not a pretty sight.
These are not my favorite stores, but I trust Hannah to follow our rules about appropriate clothing, so I sent her off with Grandfather for her annual birthday shopping spree without a second thought.
And what did my darling teen bring home? Ripped yellow short-shorts that barely cover her butt cheeks, and ten (ten!) see-through tank tops. I don't know if any of you are up on the latest teen fashions, but every top out there is made with this gauzy, see-through material, and the styles are loose and low-cut.
Hannah has a lot of camis to wear under questionable tops, but even the camis would not be enough coverage for the tanks she brought home. You could see her bra straps and the sides of her bra with all of them. So, we made her return them.
Problem? Wet Seal and Forever 21 do not allow returns for sale merchandise, and even on regularly priced stuff, you can only exchange or get a store credit. No cash, even if you paid in cash.
I returned to the stores with her two hours after she'd made her purchases. I had to beg, plead, bargain, and threaten just to get the items returned, and even then, I had to settle for exchange at Wet Seal and credit at Forever 21, even though she paid cash above and beyond her two gift cards.
We wandered Wet Seal for a good twenty minutes, desperate to find something appropriate to purchase. We settled on cowboy boots. Seriously, other than jeans, they were the only things I would let her wear.
Hannah is only 13, and when she's 15 or 16, I will let up on her. But she has no body to speak of, and all the styles look downright silly on her. But what do you do as a parent? The Girls sections are too little-girl for her - even I concede that. But it jumps from sweet and innocent to hooker. Isn't there an in between?
Poor Hannah. She was quite brave today, and I admired her courage. We had to face the salesgirls who had helped her earlier, who had picked out all the clothing I insisted she return. To Hannah's great embarrassment, they all remembered her, and she had to face them with her MOTHER. She kept a stiff upper lip, though.
Hannah's main argument to me about keeping the clothes was that everyone wears them. They are the latest styles. They were recommended to her by the salesgirls. No one even notices a bra strap. Why am I the only parent who cares?
As we navigated the mall, I pointed out all the teens wearing these great tanks and see-through shirts, and we looked at all the bras on display. Hannah was aghast. "I never even noticed," she whispered to me. "That girl needs to wash her bra - it's disgusting!" And in line at Wet Seal, a teen (16 or 17) in a cute summer dress with spaghetti straps stood in front of us. The straps of her dress came together in the middle of her back, pinned with a flower. The girl had on a nude bra (not very clean, either, or at least well-worn), and she'd tied the bra straps together in back with brown thread to mirror the straps of the dress. Of course, the bra straps were half an inch thicker than the straps of the dress, and the whole thing looked ridiculous. Hannah had to stifle her giggles with a coughing fit.
She finally got it. She understands that even though her peers day-to-day might not notice her bra straps, every adult, teacher, and boy does. And it's not a pretty sight.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Exercise - A Necessary Evil
I have always hated to exercise, but now that I've had four kids and will soon be 35, I don't have any other way of keeping weight off. I used to be able to cut back on my calorie intake and that would be enough. No longer.
I enjoy sports. I used to play tennis, but I don't have the time or money for that anymore. The kids and I will kick the soccer ball around a couple of times a week, and that's a pretty good workout, but that has been the extent of my exercise until about a month ago. That was when I discovered the treadmill.
My grandfather had an old one that was crammed in the corner of his garden room. Dog hair was still stuck underneath the tread and the wheels (Grandpa hasn't had a dog in almost ten years - yuck). I wanted to sell it, or throw it out, but Mike insisted that we clean it and set it up. I'm glad he did.
I don't mind walking, but I hate to run. I mean, I HATE to run. So I started out on the treadmill by cranking up the incline to the max, and just walking as fast as could at a steady pace without actually having to jog. I do it for 20 to 30 minutes 5 times a week. And guess what? In one month, I've lost ten pounds, and those chunks of fat above my hips that were oozing over the tops of my jeans are GONE.
Wanna know the best part? I can READ while I walk! I actually look forward to the exercise because I get a few chapters in while the fat melts away.
I don't know if everyone will get the same results I've gotten, but it's worth a try. Reading + no more love handles + a lot less back fat = one happy mama.
Did I mention that my butt is tighter, too?
I enjoy sports. I used to play tennis, but I don't have the time or money for that anymore. The kids and I will kick the soccer ball around a couple of times a week, and that's a pretty good workout, but that has been the extent of my exercise until about a month ago. That was when I discovered the treadmill.
My grandfather had an old one that was crammed in the corner of his garden room. Dog hair was still stuck underneath the tread and the wheels (Grandpa hasn't had a dog in almost ten years - yuck). I wanted to sell it, or throw it out, but Mike insisted that we clean it and set it up. I'm glad he did.
I don't mind walking, but I hate to run. I mean, I HATE to run. So I started out on the treadmill by cranking up the incline to the max, and just walking as fast as could at a steady pace without actually having to jog. I do it for 20 to 30 minutes 5 times a week. And guess what? In one month, I've lost ten pounds, and those chunks of fat above my hips that were oozing over the tops of my jeans are GONE.
Wanna know the best part? I can READ while I walk! I actually look forward to the exercise because I get a few chapters in while the fat melts away.
I don't know if everyone will get the same results I've gotten, but it's worth a try. Reading + no more love handles + a lot less back fat = one happy mama.
Did I mention that my butt is tighter, too?
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Friendship
I got a sympathy card today on the death of my grandmother from a friend I'm no longer speaking to. I stared at the envelope for quite a while before I mustered the courage to open it.
Why courage, you ask?
The answer is obvious, to me at least. I was quite an ass about the way I broke things off with her, and I'm not generally an ass (my husband does not get a vote here). Instead of simply voicing my frustration and anger and moving past it, I had to be a jerk, because it was the only way I could separate and gain some perspective. If I were just a total bitch and ended it, I didn't have to deal with the hard stuff, didn't have to have the tough (and for me, impossible) discussions about how I really felt.
That makes very little logical sense, I know. Hey, if I just get her to hate me, I don't have to be honest with her! Super! 'Cause it's way better for her to think that I'm an unreasonable bitch than for her to know what I really think about her, our friendship, and myself. Yeah.
I didn't know what I was doing when I did it. In the heat of the moment, I was really angry with her, and I let the anger guide my actions. There was very little thought behind it. I simply needed a break from the friendship. Now, two months later, I can admit that very little I do is unmotivated; meaning, I usually have a motive for my actions, even if I don't consciously recognize it.
I watch female friendships on television (Friends, Sex in the City, etc.), and none of my real-life friendships are like that. My friends and I don't yell at each other, do not make a lot of casual jibes at each other, we don't raid each other's closets and trade lipstick. And we are definitely not brutally honest. I've never been told that I need to lose ten pounds, or that after four kids I really need a more supportive bra, or that my eyeshadow looks ridiculous. My friends have never said that I pluck my eyebrows too thin, or that I need to be more on top of the kids brushing their teeth, even though all of that is most certainly true.
Sometimes one of us will work up the courage for a "crisis talk," but it better be something major, or we simply ignore it.
I don't know where my trouble with honesty comes from, but I know my family has the same problem. We may bitch behind your back, but we will smile and nod to your face. I know this is a HUGE character flaw. I mean, I don't need to be honest about every little thing (I'm not talking about telling lies - that's totally different), but I hold back way too much. It's how I am wired. If I do manage to say what's on my mind, it takes serious conscious effort on my part.
So back to this friend. I miss you, C. I hope you're doing well, that your family is thriving, that you're kicking ass at work, and that this year is better than last. I know I made it harder on you. I'm sorry.
Why courage, you ask?
The answer is obvious, to me at least. I was quite an ass about the way I broke things off with her, and I'm not generally an ass (my husband does not get a vote here). Instead of simply voicing my frustration and anger and moving past it, I had to be a jerk, because it was the only way I could separate and gain some perspective. If I were just a total bitch and ended it, I didn't have to deal with the hard stuff, didn't have to have the tough (and for me, impossible) discussions about how I really felt.
That makes very little logical sense, I know. Hey, if I just get her to hate me, I don't have to be honest with her! Super! 'Cause it's way better for her to think that I'm an unreasonable bitch than for her to know what I really think about her, our friendship, and myself. Yeah.
I didn't know what I was doing when I did it. In the heat of the moment, I was really angry with her, and I let the anger guide my actions. There was very little thought behind it. I simply needed a break from the friendship. Now, two months later, I can admit that very little I do is unmotivated; meaning, I usually have a motive for my actions, even if I don't consciously recognize it.
I watch female friendships on television (Friends, Sex in the City, etc.), and none of my real-life friendships are like that. My friends and I don't yell at each other, do not make a lot of casual jibes at each other, we don't raid each other's closets and trade lipstick. And we are definitely not brutally honest. I've never been told that I need to lose ten pounds, or that after four kids I really need a more supportive bra, or that my eyeshadow looks ridiculous. My friends have never said that I pluck my eyebrows too thin, or that I need to be more on top of the kids brushing their teeth, even though all of that is most certainly true.
Sometimes one of us will work up the courage for a "crisis talk," but it better be something major, or we simply ignore it.
I don't know where my trouble with honesty comes from, but I know my family has the same problem. We may bitch behind your back, but we will smile and nod to your face. I know this is a HUGE character flaw. I mean, I don't need to be honest about every little thing (I'm not talking about telling lies - that's totally different), but I hold back way too much. It's how I am wired. If I do manage to say what's on my mind, it takes serious conscious effort on my part.
So back to this friend. I miss you, C. I hope you're doing well, that your family is thriving, that you're kicking ass at work, and that this year is better than last. I know I made it harder on you. I'm sorry.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Bacon-Wrapped Asparagus
Bacon-Wrapped Asparagus
Several of you have asked for this recipe (become a Follower of my blog already, will you?!), so happy eating!
Ingredients:
asparagus - I prefer thicker stalks, but if you're tolerating the asparagus as an excuse to consume bacon, choose the thinner ones.
bacon - One piece per stalk of asparagus. Again, I prefer thick-sliced so that you get juicier pieces of fat.
Directions:
Snap off the ends of the asparagus. No need to cut them off and dirty a knife and cutting board - simply bend them in half, and the ends will naturally snap off exactly where they need to. Starting at the snapped end of the stalk, wrap the bacon around the asparagus. You will need to overlap quite a bit to make the bacon fit. Place the wrapped asparagus in an oven-safe dish (I use the throw-away aluminum chafing trays from Costco 'cause cleaning bacon grease is no fun), and you can really pack them in. The pieces will easily separate after they're cooked.
Bake them at 430 degrees F (450 if your oven doesn't allow 5-degree increments) for about an hour. Turn them once with tongs or a fork. You'll have to check them for doneness - the pieces on the outside cook much faster than those in the middle of the pan. Take the pieces out individually as they finish cooking, and let them drip on papertowels before transferring to a serving platter.
Eat!
Several of you have asked for this recipe (become a Follower of my blog already, will you?!), so happy eating!
Ingredients:
asparagus - I prefer thicker stalks, but if you're tolerating the asparagus as an excuse to consume bacon, choose the thinner ones.
bacon - One piece per stalk of asparagus. Again, I prefer thick-sliced so that you get juicier pieces of fat.
Directions:
Snap off the ends of the asparagus. No need to cut them off and dirty a knife and cutting board - simply bend them in half, and the ends will naturally snap off exactly where they need to. Starting at the snapped end of the stalk, wrap the bacon around the asparagus. You will need to overlap quite a bit to make the bacon fit. Place the wrapped asparagus in an oven-safe dish (I use the throw-away aluminum chafing trays from Costco 'cause cleaning bacon grease is no fun), and you can really pack them in. The pieces will easily separate after they're cooked.
Bake them at 430 degrees F (450 if your oven doesn't allow 5-degree increments) for about an hour. Turn them once with tongs or a fork. You'll have to check them for doneness - the pieces on the outside cook much faster than those in the middle of the pan. Take the pieces out individually as they finish cooking, and let them drip on papertowels before transferring to a serving platter.
Eat!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Mommy-Itis
Our three-year-old is seriously ill - he's got Mommy-itis. Every other word out of his mouth is "Mommy."
Worse, "Daddy" is a bad word. He wants nothing to do with Mike. Mike is not allowed to pour him milk, or snuggle him, or fix him a snack. Only Mommy can do it.
My reaction to this is to make Mike do things for Alex. Alex cannot be allowed to dictate how things go, and of course, I can't be there every second. Alex has to learn to drink the milk that Mike pours, or go thirsty.
But Alex throws a fit. He slaps at Mike, tells Mike to get away, "I don't want you, Daddy. I want Mommy," and generally makes Mike feel awful. If I'm there when Alex says something mean to Mike, I'll give Alex a timeout - he can't get away with being rude and mean. But Mike simply throws up his hands. "We can't make him want me," Mike says.
Alex came to our room last night at 1am. Mike woke first, calling to Alex to crawl in bed with him and snuggle. "No!" Alex shouted, waking me. "I don't wuv you, Daddy. Onwy wuv Mommy." And when I settled Alex between us in bed, Alex turned away from Mike and refused to let him comfort him. "I onwy snuggle Mommy, not you," he said.
I really don't have a solution for this. Especially in the middle of the night, if I tried to banish Alex back to his own bed, or put him on a timeout, we'd have four awake children rather than one. Is this a phase? Probably, but it's not one we've encountered before. What is the answer??
Worse, "Daddy" is a bad word. He wants nothing to do with Mike. Mike is not allowed to pour him milk, or snuggle him, or fix him a snack. Only Mommy can do it.
My reaction to this is to make Mike do things for Alex. Alex cannot be allowed to dictate how things go, and of course, I can't be there every second. Alex has to learn to drink the milk that Mike pours, or go thirsty.
But Alex throws a fit. He slaps at Mike, tells Mike to get away, "I don't want you, Daddy. I want Mommy," and generally makes Mike feel awful. If I'm there when Alex says something mean to Mike, I'll give Alex a timeout - he can't get away with being rude and mean. But Mike simply throws up his hands. "We can't make him want me," Mike says.
Alex came to our room last night at 1am. Mike woke first, calling to Alex to crawl in bed with him and snuggle. "No!" Alex shouted, waking me. "I don't wuv you, Daddy. Onwy wuv Mommy." And when I settled Alex between us in bed, Alex turned away from Mike and refused to let him comfort him. "I onwy snuggle Mommy, not you," he said.
I really don't have a solution for this. Especially in the middle of the night, if I tried to banish Alex back to his own bed, or put him on a timeout, we'd have four awake children rather than one. Is this a phase? Probably, but it's not one we've encountered before. What is the answer??
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Filling in the Gaps
Tonight I finished reading Portnoy's Complaint by Philip Roth, which marks the 11th book I've read on my Fill in the Gaps 100 list (I also abandoned Trainspotting - I couldn't understand the accents used, and it was too much of a struggle - but I will probably replace it with a different book).
I read Roth's Goodbye, Columbus in high school, and I remember liking the book, but I have no idea what it's about now. It did make an impression on me, though - the only quotation I've ever memorized from a book is from Goodbye, Columbus: "We whipped our strangeness and newness into a froth that resembled love." Cool, huh?
Portnoy's Complaint has no plot whatsoever, but Roth somehow kept me riveted for 300 pages, without so much as a chapter break. If you despise literary fiction, as I usually do, but still want to read some ingenious writing, try this book.
I read Roth's Goodbye, Columbus in high school, and I remember liking the book, but I have no idea what it's about now. It did make an impression on me, though - the only quotation I've ever memorized from a book is from Goodbye, Columbus: "We whipped our strangeness and newness into a froth that resembled love." Cool, huh?
Portnoy's Complaint has no plot whatsoever, but Roth somehow kept me riveted for 300 pages, without so much as a chapter break. If you despise literary fiction, as I usually do, but still want to read some ingenious writing, try this book.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Berkeley Asks Freshmen for DNA Samples
Berkeley students are being asked to provide DNA samples. Voluntarily, of course. According to the article, a professor of genetics at Berkeley claims that testing will "show a student’s ability to tolerate alcohol, absorb folic acid and metabolize lactose."
Huh. So if I would like to know if I'm lactose intolerant, I can submit my DNA sample to Berkeley's super-secret, absolutely confidential database and - voila! - then I'll know for sure!
Huh? Are students really this stupid?
I admit, I already have a bias against Berkeley. Remember back in 1997 when Jeremy Strohmeyer raped and murdered a 7-year-old in Las Vegas, and Strohmeyer's friend, David Cash, stood by and did nothing? A year later, Berkeley admitted David Cash. I know that Cash broke no laws, but hundreds of students were turned down while this morally bankrupt a-hole got a chance at an education at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Kinda took Berkeley off my list of great, or even good, or even acceptable, schools. If one of my children decides to attend Berkeley, they will have to figure out a way to pay for it themselves.
But that was over ten years ago. Surely Berkeley has learned from its mistakes.
Or maybe not.
Has anyone thought this DNA thing through? What else could these samples be used for? If you commit a crime, or are even suspected of committing a crime, could the police use the records? When some coed cries rape, will she demand the accused's DNA sample to compare? Will the university comply? Can they refuse? I'm sure there are a million ways these samples could be used, and most of them violate basic civil rights. After all, Berkeley is devoid of morals. Who knows what they are doing with the samples behind the scenes.
Perhaps that's a baseless accusation. I have no proof of wrongdoing, or intent of wrongdoing. But I don't think it's that much of a leap in logic. Berkeley cares about Berkeley. According to the article, Mark Schlissel, dean of the division of biological sciences, said, “We involve you in cutting edge issues in the humanities, social sciences and natural sciences." That is what they care about - not students, not morals and character and all those other pesky conscience-involving things.
Be wary, future college students. Be very, very, wary.
Huh. So if I would like to know if I'm lactose intolerant, I can submit my DNA sample to Berkeley's super-secret, absolutely confidential database and - voila! - then I'll know for sure!
Huh? Are students really this stupid?
I admit, I already have a bias against Berkeley. Remember back in 1997 when Jeremy Strohmeyer raped and murdered a 7-year-old in Las Vegas, and Strohmeyer's friend, David Cash, stood by and did nothing? A year later, Berkeley admitted David Cash. I know that Cash broke no laws, but hundreds of students were turned down while this morally bankrupt a-hole got a chance at an education at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Kinda took Berkeley off my list of great, or even good, or even acceptable, schools. If one of my children decides to attend Berkeley, they will have to figure out a way to pay for it themselves.
But that was over ten years ago. Surely Berkeley has learned from its mistakes.
Or maybe not.
Has anyone thought this DNA thing through? What else could these samples be used for? If you commit a crime, or are even suspected of committing a crime, could the police use the records? When some coed cries rape, will she demand the accused's DNA sample to compare? Will the university comply? Can they refuse? I'm sure there are a million ways these samples could be used, and most of them violate basic civil rights. After all, Berkeley is devoid of morals. Who knows what they are doing with the samples behind the scenes.
Perhaps that's a baseless accusation. I have no proof of wrongdoing, or intent of wrongdoing. But I don't think it's that much of a leap in logic. Berkeley cares about Berkeley. According to the article, Mark Schlissel, dean of the division of biological sciences, said, “We involve you in cutting edge issues in the humanities, social sciences and natural sciences." That is what they care about - not students, not morals and character and all those other pesky conscience-involving things.
Be wary, future college students. Be very, very, wary.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Party Planning - Mad Hatter Tea Unbirthday
We worked a bit on the party this weekend, and I'm very excited about the way it's shaping up.
Hannah cut out a large pair of eyes and a Cheshire Cat smile and painted them with glow-in-the-dark paint. We're going to put them in a tree overlooking the party tables in the backyard.
I purchased bunches of fake white roses (6 for $1 at the Dollar Store), and Hannah painted them red (sort of), just the way the cards did in the movie. I'm planning on sticking them in the bush that surrounds our mailbox, along with an empty can of red paint and a paint brush.
Hannah also made a bunch of signs - "This Way" - "That Way" - "Other Way" - "Wrong Way" - that we'll put around the yard, and we made a bunch of rabbit footprints that we'll put along the driveway and sidewalk leading to the front door, through the house, and out to the party location in back.
We had an old deck of cards with one missing, so Hannah punched holes in all of them and strung them up on ribbon - a card garland. It looks amazingly professional (if garland can be so classified).
We are debating about games - right now, we have too many and need to narrow it down.
1. Lawn Games - We have croquet (a must, but with blow-up flamingos for mallets), frisbee golf (throw a frisbee through a hoop), chess (the king is almost a foot tall - very cool), bocce, and ladder ball. I figure that the kids can play these at their leisure in between planned activities, although Hannah wants to set something up tournament-style.
2. I'm Late, I'm Late - Basically a potato sack race, two teams against each other. Before your turn to hop, you have to put on bunny ears and say, "I'm late, I'm late!"
3. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum Race - Three-legged race.
4. Sugar Cube Towers - Who can build the tallest tower in two minutes.
5. Tea Cup Race - Two opposing teams. One player at a time fills their plastic tea cup with water and must carry it on their head to the teapot on the other side of the yard. First team to fill their pot wins.
6. Musical Chairs - Played to the Unbirthday song, of course.
7. Guess the Song - Pick a song out of a hat and play it on your kazoo. Your team must guess what song you're playing.
8. Card Houses - Teams of three race to build the tallest card house.
We are having 21 guests (all 13-year-olds - I'm totally insane), so we're not doing goody bags. But we still want the guests to have things to take home. We bought glow-in-the-dark bracelets and necklaces, and the tables will be chock-full of goodies the guests can grab - those large rainbow swirly lollipops, cupcakes that say "Eat Me", foot-long marshmallow poles (10 for $1 - I'd never even seen these before) - and we've picked out some cool prizes for game winners, like a telescoping marshmallow roasting stick (I'm going to buy five more to stick in everyone's stocking for Christmas).
Our biggest dilemma is how to decorate the party area over the tables. We don't have a patio cover or pergola, but I still want to hang a bunch of paper lanterns, streamers and balloons. Somehow I'm going to have to run twine from the roof of the house over to the trees at the back edge of the yard. Not sure how this will work, but I'll come up with something. No way are our decorations going to waste!
I'm going to try to start taking pictures of this stuff and post them this week. You really need visuals for this stuff. Happy party planning!
Hannah cut out a large pair of eyes and a Cheshire Cat smile and painted them with glow-in-the-dark paint. We're going to put them in a tree overlooking the party tables in the backyard.
I purchased bunches of fake white roses (6 for $1 at the Dollar Store), and Hannah painted them red (sort of), just the way the cards did in the movie. I'm planning on sticking them in the bush that surrounds our mailbox, along with an empty can of red paint and a paint brush.
Hannah also made a bunch of signs - "This Way" - "That Way" - "Other Way" - "Wrong Way" - that we'll put around the yard, and we made a bunch of rabbit footprints that we'll put along the driveway and sidewalk leading to the front door, through the house, and out to the party location in back.
We had an old deck of cards with one missing, so Hannah punched holes in all of them and strung them up on ribbon - a card garland. It looks amazingly professional (if garland can be so classified).
We are debating about games - right now, we have too many and need to narrow it down.
1. Lawn Games - We have croquet (a must, but with blow-up flamingos for mallets), frisbee golf (throw a frisbee through a hoop), chess (the king is almost a foot tall - very cool), bocce, and ladder ball. I figure that the kids can play these at their leisure in between planned activities, although Hannah wants to set something up tournament-style.
2. I'm Late, I'm Late - Basically a potato sack race, two teams against each other. Before your turn to hop, you have to put on bunny ears and say, "I'm late, I'm late!"
3. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum Race - Three-legged race.
4. Sugar Cube Towers - Who can build the tallest tower in two minutes.
5. Tea Cup Race - Two opposing teams. One player at a time fills their plastic tea cup with water and must carry it on their head to the teapot on the other side of the yard. First team to fill their pot wins.
6. Musical Chairs - Played to the Unbirthday song, of course.
7. Guess the Song - Pick a song out of a hat and play it on your kazoo. Your team must guess what song you're playing.
8. Card Houses - Teams of three race to build the tallest card house.
We are having 21 guests (all 13-year-olds - I'm totally insane), so we're not doing goody bags. But we still want the guests to have things to take home. We bought glow-in-the-dark bracelets and necklaces, and the tables will be chock-full of goodies the guests can grab - those large rainbow swirly lollipops, cupcakes that say "Eat Me", foot-long marshmallow poles (10 for $1 - I'd never even seen these before) - and we've picked out some cool prizes for game winners, like a telescoping marshmallow roasting stick (I'm going to buy five more to stick in everyone's stocking for Christmas).
Our biggest dilemma is how to decorate the party area over the tables. We don't have a patio cover or pergola, but I still want to hang a bunch of paper lanterns, streamers and balloons. Somehow I'm going to have to run twine from the roof of the house over to the trees at the back edge of the yard. Not sure how this will work, but I'll come up with something. No way are our decorations going to waste!
I'm going to try to start taking pictures of this stuff and post them this week. You really need visuals for this stuff. Happy party planning!
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Parents Should Be Responsible for Sex Ed
This article is disturbing on many levels - it details a sex game where five 14 & 15yo girls ended up pregnant after multiple boys took turns having intercourse with them.
Granted, it took place in Poland (I admittedly know nothing about the education or culture of Poland), but it sounds like something that could happen here.
The final sentence of the article is particularly troublesome: "According to the report, sex education is lacking at the school, with no one to talk to the students about how such games can lead to pregnancy."
Where are their parents? I don't care what country you live in - a parent of a teenager cannot rely on the schools to educate their child about sex. It is not the schools' responsibility.
I seem to be in the minority in California because I actually believe that schools should teach morals along with facts. Schools should enforce basic decency, teach kids about honesty, and kindness, and loyalty, and character. But the schools here, for the most part, do not do this. And since I know that, I make sure that my kids learn it at home.
Same goes for sex ed. I know it's a sticky subject - do we hand out condoms? Teach abstinence or safe sex? Most schools don't teach any of this stuff because they cannot agree on what should be taught. The fact that it is sticky, however, does not mean that we should ignore it.
BUT...since I know that the schools either ignore the subject or might teach it in a way I don't agree with (please don't give my daughter a condom), I know I have to step up. I have to be responsible for passing on not only my values, but the knowledge my children need to survive and make healthy choices. If I don't teach them, I am abdicating my responsibility as a parent.
This goes for any subject, really. Parents should be on top of what their children are being taught. In high school, my brother had a history teacher that claimed the Holocaust never happened. If parents had not been paying attention, some children may have believed that. That teacher may have continued to spread his sick lies. I don't know why we're okay with discussing history and politics with our kids, and then proceed to ignore all the ways they can make a baby.
I know sex is an uncomfortable topic - I get it. So buy your kid a book (there are hundreds of good ones), and make sure they read it (trust me, they will - kids love to read about sex and their bodies). If you simply can't muster the courage, have a good friend or family member discuss it with them. Make sure they are armed and aware.
If my daughter turns up pregnant, or one of our sons impregnates someone, we'll deal with it. But at least I'll know it wasn't because I wimped out.
Granted, it took place in Poland (I admittedly know nothing about the education or culture of Poland), but it sounds like something that could happen here.
The final sentence of the article is particularly troublesome: "According to the report, sex education is lacking at the school, with no one to talk to the students about how such games can lead to pregnancy."
Where are their parents? I don't care what country you live in - a parent of a teenager cannot rely on the schools to educate their child about sex. It is not the schools' responsibility.
I seem to be in the minority in California because I actually believe that schools should teach morals along with facts. Schools should enforce basic decency, teach kids about honesty, and kindness, and loyalty, and character. But the schools here, for the most part, do not do this. And since I know that, I make sure that my kids learn it at home.
Same goes for sex ed. I know it's a sticky subject - do we hand out condoms? Teach abstinence or safe sex? Most schools don't teach any of this stuff because they cannot agree on what should be taught. The fact that it is sticky, however, does not mean that we should ignore it.
BUT...since I know that the schools either ignore the subject or might teach it in a way I don't agree with (please don't give my daughter a condom), I know I have to step up. I have to be responsible for passing on not only my values, but the knowledge my children need to survive and make healthy choices. If I don't teach them, I am abdicating my responsibility as a parent.
This goes for any subject, really. Parents should be on top of what their children are being taught. In high school, my brother had a history teacher that claimed the Holocaust never happened. If parents had not been paying attention, some children may have believed that. That teacher may have continued to spread his sick lies. I don't know why we're okay with discussing history and politics with our kids, and then proceed to ignore all the ways they can make a baby.
I know sex is an uncomfortable topic - I get it. So buy your kid a book (there are hundreds of good ones), and make sure they read it (trust me, they will - kids love to read about sex and their bodies). If you simply can't muster the courage, have a good friend or family member discuss it with them. Make sure they are armed and aware.
If my daughter turns up pregnant, or one of our sons impregnates someone, we'll deal with it. But at least I'll know it wasn't because I wimped out.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Teens Need to Understand Consequences in the Electronic Age
I can't believe it's even a real word - "sexting." How sad.
In general, I have no real objection to it. If my husband wants to sext me, bring it on. However...
Nothing is private anymore. NOTHING. If you write it in an email, send it via IM, text it...it could get out. In fact, you have to assume that it will.
When I was a kid, I didn't have this problem. I worried about my teacher confiscating a note I passed to a friend, or whether my parents were listening in to a phone conversation, but that was it. I didn't have too many other worries about my private thoughts becoming public knowledge.
Today, though, it's easy to make a mistake. Almost every cell phone has a camera, and kids can take compromising pictures of themselves and send them to friends without giving it a thought. Kids regular communicate by texting and email - so regularly that they forget that every transmission is recorded for posterity. The delete button is an illusion.
Hannah found this out last week. Mike inadvertantly got a hold of her phone when she called my mom on it and my mom wanted to talk to him. He took the opportunity to read her text messages. Or should I say "sext" messages?
Holy crap. What 13-year-old boy texts, "Wanna lick my wick?" Even I've never heard that one. And I will refrain from repeating what my daughter replied - I think this will embarrass her enough.
See, Hannah? One tiny little conversation, one text reply made without thinking through the consequences, and suddenly your business is everyone's business.
I'm actually glad this happened, with something relatively small and easily handled. There are awful, life-long consequences to impulsive electronic communication, and every teenager needs to understand that.
But teaching a teenager to think before they act is like telling a bee to stop buzzing - ain't gonna happen. Not without some serious nagging and effort anyway. I hope catching Hannah's act of impulsiveness is enough to keep her from making some serious missteps down the road.
In general, I have no real objection to it. If my husband wants to sext me, bring it on. However...
Nothing is private anymore. NOTHING. If you write it in an email, send it via IM, text it...it could get out. In fact, you have to assume that it will.
When I was a kid, I didn't have this problem. I worried about my teacher confiscating a note I passed to a friend, or whether my parents were listening in to a phone conversation, but that was it. I didn't have too many other worries about my private thoughts becoming public knowledge.
Today, though, it's easy to make a mistake. Almost every cell phone has a camera, and kids can take compromising pictures of themselves and send them to friends without giving it a thought. Kids regular communicate by texting and email - so regularly that they forget that every transmission is recorded for posterity. The delete button is an illusion.
Hannah found this out last week. Mike inadvertantly got a hold of her phone when she called my mom on it and my mom wanted to talk to him. He took the opportunity to read her text messages. Or should I say "sext" messages?
Holy crap. What 13-year-old boy texts, "Wanna lick my wick?" Even I've never heard that one. And I will refrain from repeating what my daughter replied - I think this will embarrass her enough.
See, Hannah? One tiny little conversation, one text reply made without thinking through the consequences, and suddenly your business is everyone's business.
I'm actually glad this happened, with something relatively small and easily handled. There are awful, life-long consequences to impulsive electronic communication, and every teenager needs to understand that.
But teaching a teenager to think before they act is like telling a bee to stop buzzing - ain't gonna happen. Not without some serious nagging and effort anyway. I hope catching Hannah's act of impulsiveness is enough to keep her from making some serious missteps down the road.
Funerals - Are They Necessary?
My grandmother, God bless her, thought so. She passed away peacefully last Friday, and we attended her funeral yesterday. My mother spent hours with my grandmother over the past couple of years discussing the event.
Grandma had definite ideas of what she wanted, and she wasn't shy about making her wishes known. My mom planned the funeral the way my grandmother had envisioned it. For most people, I don't think it works that way. One, people often die without warning. Even though my grandfather was 91 when he passed two years ago, we weren't prepared. We didn't really know what he wanted, so we winged it. And two, death is still a taboo and tricky subject - we especially don't like to talk about our own death. We know it will happen eventually, but that's about all that most people are willing to acknowledge.
It is often said that funerals are for the living - the dead don't know what's going on anyway. I agree with that. A funeral gives us one last chance to honor the dead and to find closure. In that sense, I am content to attend a funeral and pay my respects.
But it's odd, and a little sad, don't you think? A person lives a life, and it's reduced to a one-hour ceremony. Some people actually complain when a service is "too long." Too long? A person lives to be 91 (or 50, or 20, or even 5 - doesn't really matter), and we complain that their last hurrah is too long?
But we're sitting there sweating, listening to boring prayers wearing throat-constricting ties or itchy nylons, and we're sobbing our hearts out and the officiant is droning on and on, and all we want to do is get the hell out of there. You'd think there'd be a better way.
As I've said, sadness and grief aside, I don't mind funerals. I'll sit there as long as you want me. I'll listen, and I'll mourn, and I'll pray, and I'll remember you. But when my own time comes, I think I want something different.
First of all, cremate me. I'm donating my organs, and I don't want whatever's left moldering in the ground. I also don't want you to have to tend a grave, or worry about fresh flowers keeping me company. I will be gone. Scatter my ashes under a tree and wish me well.
I believe in God and an afterlife, but I'm not particularly religious, so you can forgo a church service. Gather at someone's home, and toss back a few for me. Eat a lot - onion dip, bacon-wrapped asparagus, and pie come to mind - drink, and smoke a few cigars. Tell awful stories about all the times I embarrassed myself, how my glasses were always wonky and scratched, and how my nose was always stuck in a book. If someone remembers to say how much I loved them, I will be honored.
Play some Depeche Mode and some eighties music, and dance for me. Do some karaoke. Make fools of yourselves. Make a video of your hideous vocal renditions so they can play it at your own funeral.
Most people don't live a quiet, somber life, but that's how we are expected to remember them. To each her own. And that is the point, I think. If you love the ceremony and tradition that are part of a funeral service, demand it. Make your wishes known. Do not be afraid to talk about these things with the people who care about you. Because in the heat of their grief, in the worst moments of their lives, they have to make a million tiny decisions to send you off. Don't make them do it alone.
Grandma had definite ideas of what she wanted, and she wasn't shy about making her wishes known. My mom planned the funeral the way my grandmother had envisioned it. For most people, I don't think it works that way. One, people often die without warning. Even though my grandfather was 91 when he passed two years ago, we weren't prepared. We didn't really know what he wanted, so we winged it. And two, death is still a taboo and tricky subject - we especially don't like to talk about our own death. We know it will happen eventually, but that's about all that most people are willing to acknowledge.
It is often said that funerals are for the living - the dead don't know what's going on anyway. I agree with that. A funeral gives us one last chance to honor the dead and to find closure. In that sense, I am content to attend a funeral and pay my respects.
But it's odd, and a little sad, don't you think? A person lives a life, and it's reduced to a one-hour ceremony. Some people actually complain when a service is "too long." Too long? A person lives to be 91 (or 50, or 20, or even 5 - doesn't really matter), and we complain that their last hurrah is too long?
But we're sitting there sweating, listening to boring prayers wearing throat-constricting ties or itchy nylons, and we're sobbing our hearts out and the officiant is droning on and on, and all we want to do is get the hell out of there. You'd think there'd be a better way.
As I've said, sadness and grief aside, I don't mind funerals. I'll sit there as long as you want me. I'll listen, and I'll mourn, and I'll pray, and I'll remember you. But when my own time comes, I think I want something different.
First of all, cremate me. I'm donating my organs, and I don't want whatever's left moldering in the ground. I also don't want you to have to tend a grave, or worry about fresh flowers keeping me company. I will be gone. Scatter my ashes under a tree and wish me well.
I believe in God and an afterlife, but I'm not particularly religious, so you can forgo a church service. Gather at someone's home, and toss back a few for me. Eat a lot - onion dip, bacon-wrapped asparagus, and pie come to mind - drink, and smoke a few cigars. Tell awful stories about all the times I embarrassed myself, how my glasses were always wonky and scratched, and how my nose was always stuck in a book. If someone remembers to say how much I loved them, I will be honored.
Play some Depeche Mode and some eighties music, and dance for me. Do some karaoke. Make fools of yourselves. Make a video of your hideous vocal renditions so they can play it at your own funeral.
Most people don't live a quiet, somber life, but that's how we are expected to remember them. To each her own. And that is the point, I think. If you love the ceremony and tradition that are part of a funeral service, demand it. Make your wishes known. Do not be afraid to talk about these things with the people who care about you. Because in the heat of their grief, in the worst moments of their lives, they have to make a million tiny decisions to send you off. Don't make them do it alone.
Friday, May 21, 2010
A Mad Hatter Tea Party
For Hannah's 13th birthday, we are throwing a Mad Hatter Tea Party. Here's the invitation:
I tend to go a little crazy with birthday parties - not in terms of money, but in terms of time and details. (This was version #4 of 5 invites we created.) I've never posted the details of our parties before, but I thought it might be fun to start. As I flesh out the details of this mad party, I'll keep you posted.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Is Your Glass Half-Full or Half-Empty?
I like to think of myself as a glass-half-full kinda gal. Three of our children are clearly like this - they can shrug off anything, have fun going to the dentist, and generally wake up singin' and dancin' and clappin' and snappin'.
Then there's our fourth child. Houston, we have a problem.
Jackson will turn ten next week. He has some challenges that I fully acknowledge. One, he's short for his age - really short (his best friend is a full foot taller than he is). Two, he lives in the shadow of his older, good-at-everything sister. Three, he has two younger brothers that get more time and attention simply because of their age. As sibling number two of four, Jackson is at that horrible in-between space - not old enough to do anything first, not young enough to be coddled, self-sufficient enough to be ignored. Not that we ignore him, but he is in a tough spot.
He rarely has anything positive to say. When I ask him about his day, he relates all the slights against him, any unfair treatment, the too-hot sun or the too-cold wind, a story about the girl who whispers too loudly during a test. He completely lacks the ability to look on the bright side of things.
When I point this out to him, he says I don't understand. I tell him that I do, but that doesn't change the fact that he needs to change his reaction to things. I've tried to explain that people will do annoying (or hurtful, or stupid) things to you, but they can't make you react to them. They cannot affect your behavior. You are the only one who can allow someone to make you mad (or sad, or annoyed). You are in complete control.
Tonight we had a blowup over his attitude. Generally I ignore it, or give him a pep talk, or listen and try to be understanding, but tonight, something struck me - his attitude has crossed the line from sullen and sensitive to downright destructive.
I think he actually needs counseling, something my husband has been urging for a while. I've never thought things were that bad. Until tonight.
When something goes wrong with your child, you search for the reasons why. You blame yourself. Am I that way? Does he see me being negative and think that's the proper way to react? Am I ignoring him? Do I not listen closely enough? You second-guess every decision you've ever made. Am I not being a good parent?
I have three other examples telling me that it's not completely my fault. But I have contributed, I'm sure. The trick is to figure out exactly what I've done, what I'm doing, and to stop it. Immediately.
Then there's our fourth child. Houston, we have a problem.
Jackson will turn ten next week. He has some challenges that I fully acknowledge. One, he's short for his age - really short (his best friend is a full foot taller than he is). Two, he lives in the shadow of his older, good-at-everything sister. Three, he has two younger brothers that get more time and attention simply because of their age. As sibling number two of four, Jackson is at that horrible in-between space - not old enough to do anything first, not young enough to be coddled, self-sufficient enough to be ignored. Not that we ignore him, but he is in a tough spot.
He rarely has anything positive to say. When I ask him about his day, he relates all the slights against him, any unfair treatment, the too-hot sun or the too-cold wind, a story about the girl who whispers too loudly during a test. He completely lacks the ability to look on the bright side of things.
When I point this out to him, he says I don't understand. I tell him that I do, but that doesn't change the fact that he needs to change his reaction to things. I've tried to explain that people will do annoying (or hurtful, or stupid) things to you, but they can't make you react to them. They cannot affect your behavior. You are the only one who can allow someone to make you mad (or sad, or annoyed). You are in complete control.
Tonight we had a blowup over his attitude. Generally I ignore it, or give him a pep talk, or listen and try to be understanding, but tonight, something struck me - his attitude has crossed the line from sullen and sensitive to downright destructive.
I think he actually needs counseling, something my husband has been urging for a while. I've never thought things were that bad. Until tonight.
When something goes wrong with your child, you search for the reasons why. You blame yourself. Am I that way? Does he see me being negative and think that's the proper way to react? Am I ignoring him? Do I not listen closely enough? You second-guess every decision you've ever made. Am I not being a good parent?
I have three other examples telling me that it's not completely my fault. But I have contributed, I'm sure. The trick is to figure out exactly what I've done, what I'm doing, and to stop it. Immediately.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Death of the Family
I wish I could title this, "A Death in the Family," but that wouldn't be wholly accurate.
My grandmother, the matriarch of the family, will pass away any day now. She can no longer swallow, and has not had food or drink for days. Hospice is keeping her comfortably under with morphine, and now it is a waiting game.
My grandmother kept the family together. She insisted on bringing everyone together for holidays and Sunday dinners, and though many members of the family only politely tolerate one another, we always came together for her. We put aside our differences, held our tongues, and continued to play nice for her. When she is gone, our family will never be the same.
I do not know this for a fact. I hope that we will come together in our grief, in our shared past, and cling tightly to all the wonderful moments we've had together and will have in the future.
I live in the real world, however, and I know that this scenario is a fantasy.
Our family has all the cliche problems found in most late-night dramas. Brothers and sisters harbor resentments over parental favoritism. Sons and daughters grapple with the realities of the will and argue over my grandparents' wishes. There is money to be had, and some want more than their fair share. There are debts to be paid, some real and some imagined.
There are ostracized siblings trying earnestly to come back to the family fold. There are well-intentioned and meddlesome in-laws. There are co-dependent children who will not know how to make their own life once my grandmother is gone.
Can a family survive so many challenges?
I do not believe ours will. Lines have already been drawn, sides taken. We are about to crack in half like a tree struck by lightning.
We should be focusing on our grandmother, and we are. But that focus will quickly shift. Some of the family will shift that focus outward, to the family at large, and will try to work out differences - that is what my grandmother would want. Others will shift their focus inward, to their own self-interest, and theirs is not the side I will be on.
I wonder how many will be standing with me.
My grandmother, the matriarch of the family, will pass away any day now. She can no longer swallow, and has not had food or drink for days. Hospice is keeping her comfortably under with morphine, and now it is a waiting game.
My grandmother kept the family together. She insisted on bringing everyone together for holidays and Sunday dinners, and though many members of the family only politely tolerate one another, we always came together for her. We put aside our differences, held our tongues, and continued to play nice for her. When she is gone, our family will never be the same.
I do not know this for a fact. I hope that we will come together in our grief, in our shared past, and cling tightly to all the wonderful moments we've had together and will have in the future.
I live in the real world, however, and I know that this scenario is a fantasy.
Our family has all the cliche problems found in most late-night dramas. Brothers and sisters harbor resentments over parental favoritism. Sons and daughters grapple with the realities of the will and argue over my grandparents' wishes. There is money to be had, and some want more than their fair share. There are debts to be paid, some real and some imagined.
There are ostracized siblings trying earnestly to come back to the family fold. There are well-intentioned and meddlesome in-laws. There are co-dependent children who will not know how to make their own life once my grandmother is gone.
Can a family survive so many challenges?
I do not believe ours will. Lines have already been drawn, sides taken. We are about to crack in half like a tree struck by lightning.
We should be focusing on our grandmother, and we are. But that focus will quickly shift. Some of the family will shift that focus outward, to the family at large, and will try to work out differences - that is what my grandmother would want. Others will shift their focus inward, to their own self-interest, and theirs is not the side I will be on.
I wonder how many will be standing with me.
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Discretionary Spending for Kids
Hannah wants an iPod Touch for her 13th birthday next month. They run from about $180 for the 8 GB model to $350 for 64 GB. She already has a Nano, so we said no, we won't be buying her one. The question is, if she saves enough on her own, should we let her buy an iPod Touch?
On one hand, her money is her money, and she should be able to spend it however she wishes. In theory. But money has been a big issue for her since starting junior high. She needs more of it for discretionary spending. So my husband feels she should save her money for the little things that always pop up.
What little things? For one, the school cafeteria has a lot more choices than the hot lunch line in elementary school did. We load up her school ID card with money for lunch, and she's free to buy what she wants, with the understanding that the money (about $100/month) has to last. I can log in to Hannah's account and see her purchases. She got an earful the day I discovered she'd joined the Mentos craze and bought a $1.50 pack of Mentos every day for two weeks. But that was our money, not hers, she was using.
All of her friends seem to have a lot of pocket change. Every weekend, they want to go to the movies, or the mall, and Hannah needs money for this. The problem is, she doesn't have any. She has chores but does not get an allowance. She doesn't have any way to earn money (sometimes she babysits the boys, and we'll slip her some money if it's above and beyond, but that's rare).
Sometimes she is at school late for rehearsals, and she forgets to pack extra drinks, snacks, or water bottles. Of course she needs to eat and drink, but if food and drink are provided for her for free at home, and she is the one who forgets to bring them, who should foot the bill? Us or her?
It's a tricky issue. We want Hannah to learn the value of money and to understand that there are costs and benefits to every purchase (yes, you can have the benefit of a pack of Mentos, but it will cost you the popcorn you want at the movies). If we simply hand her a twenty every time she goes out with her friends, she will not understand the costs.
We went to Costco today as a family and spent $380. This will last us about two weeks, but I'll still have to fill in with another milk and fresh produce purchase of about $100. Mike said to Hannah, "Buying you the iPod touch you want costs us two weeks of groceries. Do you think playing games and watching videos at school is worth our family not eating for two weeks?" That was a little below the belt, but she got the point.
So far, if she needs money, I'll front it for her and make her earn it back by doing extra chores (washing windows, vacuuming out the car, etc.). It's not a perfect system, and she's not really making the connection about earning fun through hard work. The work should come first. But I also hate to begrudge her time with friends. Going to OCHSA is difficult, because the students live all over Southern California. Her best friends live miles away, and it's tough to see each other outside of school. Parents are really the ones who have to make the effort.
Maybe we can make Hannah a deal: When she has saved $100 more than the cost of the iPod, she can buy one. And she has to do enough extra chores to earn at least $10/week, so that we know her extra expenditures are covered.
How do parents handle this? Hannah says most of her friends simply receive that $20 bill every time they walk out the door. Is she telling the truth?
On one hand, her money is her money, and she should be able to spend it however she wishes. In theory. But money has been a big issue for her since starting junior high. She needs more of it for discretionary spending. So my husband feels she should save her money for the little things that always pop up.
What little things? For one, the school cafeteria has a lot more choices than the hot lunch line in elementary school did. We load up her school ID card with money for lunch, and she's free to buy what she wants, with the understanding that the money (about $100/month) has to last. I can log in to Hannah's account and see her purchases. She got an earful the day I discovered she'd joined the Mentos craze and bought a $1.50 pack of Mentos every day for two weeks. But that was our money, not hers, she was using.
All of her friends seem to have a lot of pocket change. Every weekend, they want to go to the movies, or the mall, and Hannah needs money for this. The problem is, she doesn't have any. She has chores but does not get an allowance. She doesn't have any way to earn money (sometimes she babysits the boys, and we'll slip her some money if it's above and beyond, but that's rare).
Sometimes she is at school late for rehearsals, and she forgets to pack extra drinks, snacks, or water bottles. Of course she needs to eat and drink, but if food and drink are provided for her for free at home, and she is the one who forgets to bring them, who should foot the bill? Us or her?
It's a tricky issue. We want Hannah to learn the value of money and to understand that there are costs and benefits to every purchase (yes, you can have the benefit of a pack of Mentos, but it will cost you the popcorn you want at the movies). If we simply hand her a twenty every time she goes out with her friends, she will not understand the costs.
We went to Costco today as a family and spent $380. This will last us about two weeks, but I'll still have to fill in with another milk and fresh produce purchase of about $100. Mike said to Hannah, "Buying you the iPod touch you want costs us two weeks of groceries. Do you think playing games and watching videos at school is worth our family not eating for two weeks?" That was a little below the belt, but she got the point.
So far, if she needs money, I'll front it for her and make her earn it back by doing extra chores (washing windows, vacuuming out the car, etc.). It's not a perfect system, and she's not really making the connection about earning fun through hard work. The work should come first. But I also hate to begrudge her time with friends. Going to OCHSA is difficult, because the students live all over Southern California. Her best friends live miles away, and it's tough to see each other outside of school. Parents are really the ones who have to make the effort.
Maybe we can make Hannah a deal: When she has saved $100 more than the cost of the iPod, she can buy one. And she has to do enough extra chores to earn at least $10/week, so that we know her extra expenditures are covered.
How do parents handle this? Hannah says most of her friends simply receive that $20 bill every time they walk out the door. Is she telling the truth?
Memories
My husband and I are creating a video slide show of my grandmother's life. She is 92, declining rapidly, and the family would like to show the video at her funeral service.
It sounds so morbid. We are all preparing for her funeral as though she is already gone. In many ways, she is. Most days, she doesn't get out of bed. We are lucky if she remembers our name when we visit.
In stark contrast to the sadness I feel thinking about her absence from my life, I felt great joy tonight looking through the photos of her life. Thank God for cameras, because most of the images (taken during my lifetime, anyway) brought memories that I'm certain could never have been recalled without them.
In 2005, I gathered all my grandmother's famous recipes (and those of my aunts and other family members) and created a family cookbook. It turned out surprisingly well, professional-looking and usable. I made a copy for every unit of the family.
This year, I want to scan every family photo I can get my hands on and distribute DVDs so that everyone has a copy of all the photos. It's a tremndous undertaking, but one I think is worth the time and effort. I know I would like the photos, anyway.
My husband was a little dubious about the project. "It's so much work," he said. "And look at this old photo," taken in 1945 of my grandfather and his mother. "Who is going to want that, really? Who's going to use it?"
"I want it," I said. "It's my grandfather and my great-grandmother. Look at their clothes, their hairstyles. This is our history. I might never actually use the photo for anything, but I want it. I want to be able to look at it. I want the kids to be able to see it and remember."
"But will anyone else?" he asked.
"Mom will. Wouldn't you want old pictures of your father?"
He agreed. He will help me. I think, though, we'll be lucky if we can scan all the photos and tag them (I want to at least tag them according to names of people in the photos, so you can search for a particular person) by Christmas. But it's a worthy goal. And if it takes longer than that, everyone will get a photo DVD for Easter.
I love the old photos of my grandparents. My grandfather leaning on the bumper of an old Studebaker smoking a cigarette. My grandmother en pointe in a flowing ballet skirt and toe shoes (that's where she got her twisted toes from!). My mother and aunt in matching Easter dresses, bonnets askew and white gloves on their hands. My three uncles as teenagers, all lanky limbs and buzz cuts, standing stiff in Sunday suits.
It's amazing what you can gleam from a photo. Two themes run prominently through the photos of my grandmother. First, there's almost always food nearby (she struggled with her weight all of her adult life). And two, she is smiling in nearly every photo. And it's not just a fake, you're-pointing-a-camera-at-me-so-I-have-to-smile expression - she is genuinely, truly happy. I love that, that her love of her life and family shines through so clearly.
It makes me wonder. How will my family remember me in 50 years? Will my photos show me as the person I think I am? The person I want to be? The person my family thinks I am?
I don't know, and I guess I never will. When I am gone and my children and grandchildren are looking at pictures of me, I'll have no way of knowing the legacy I have left behind.
I want to tell my grandmother that I admire her in many ways and will continue to emulate her. She loves her family more than anything. She has an amazing network of friends - more than anyone I've ever known - and they took care of each other in ways I envy. She loved the holidays and made each one a special celebration. She baked tins of Christmas cookies every year, dyed Easter eggs with her grandchildren, and gave them overflowing Christmas stockings that were the highlight of their holidays. She put tremendous effort and love into every aspect of her life.
She had an undying love affair with my grandfather. I cannot count the number of times I saw him fall asleep on the couch with his head in her lap.
She had her own vocabulary. "Whoosie's coming over," she'd say when she couldn't remember someone's name. And I loved her Jersey accent, which she never completely shed even after living in California for nearly fifty years. "I'd like a root beer," she'd say, pronouncing "root" like "put." It made me laugh.
She is a stubborn lady, and she knew how to hold a grudge. But I don't think anyone in our family ever doubted her love.
I love you, Grandma. You are the perfect model for the matriarch of a family. I hope I can be just like you.
It sounds so morbid. We are all preparing for her funeral as though she is already gone. In many ways, she is. Most days, she doesn't get out of bed. We are lucky if she remembers our name when we visit.
In stark contrast to the sadness I feel thinking about her absence from my life, I felt great joy tonight looking through the photos of her life. Thank God for cameras, because most of the images (taken during my lifetime, anyway) brought memories that I'm certain could never have been recalled without them.
In 2005, I gathered all my grandmother's famous recipes (and those of my aunts and other family members) and created a family cookbook. It turned out surprisingly well, professional-looking and usable. I made a copy for every unit of the family.
This year, I want to scan every family photo I can get my hands on and distribute DVDs so that everyone has a copy of all the photos. It's a tremndous undertaking, but one I think is worth the time and effort. I know I would like the photos, anyway.
My husband was a little dubious about the project. "It's so much work," he said. "And look at this old photo," taken in 1945 of my grandfather and his mother. "Who is going to want that, really? Who's going to use it?"
"I want it," I said. "It's my grandfather and my great-grandmother. Look at their clothes, their hairstyles. This is our history. I might never actually use the photo for anything, but I want it. I want to be able to look at it. I want the kids to be able to see it and remember."
"But will anyone else?" he asked.
"Mom will. Wouldn't you want old pictures of your father?"
He agreed. He will help me. I think, though, we'll be lucky if we can scan all the photos and tag them (I want to at least tag them according to names of people in the photos, so you can search for a particular person) by Christmas. But it's a worthy goal. And if it takes longer than that, everyone will get a photo DVD for Easter.
I love the old photos of my grandparents. My grandfather leaning on the bumper of an old Studebaker smoking a cigarette. My grandmother en pointe in a flowing ballet skirt and toe shoes (that's where she got her twisted toes from!). My mother and aunt in matching Easter dresses, bonnets askew and white gloves on their hands. My three uncles as teenagers, all lanky limbs and buzz cuts, standing stiff in Sunday suits.
It's amazing what you can gleam from a photo. Two themes run prominently through the photos of my grandmother. First, there's almost always food nearby (she struggled with her weight all of her adult life). And two, she is smiling in nearly every photo. And it's not just a fake, you're-pointing-a-camera-at-me-so-I-have-to-smile expression - she is genuinely, truly happy. I love that, that her love of her life and family shines through so clearly.
It makes me wonder. How will my family remember me in 50 years? Will my photos show me as the person I think I am? The person I want to be? The person my family thinks I am?
I don't know, and I guess I never will. When I am gone and my children and grandchildren are looking at pictures of me, I'll have no way of knowing the legacy I have left behind.
I want to tell my grandmother that I admire her in many ways and will continue to emulate her. She loves her family more than anything. She has an amazing network of friends - more than anyone I've ever known - and they took care of each other in ways I envy. She loved the holidays and made each one a special celebration. She baked tins of Christmas cookies every year, dyed Easter eggs with her grandchildren, and gave them overflowing Christmas stockings that were the highlight of their holidays. She put tremendous effort and love into every aspect of her life.
She had an undying love affair with my grandfather. I cannot count the number of times I saw him fall asleep on the couch with his head in her lap.
She had her own vocabulary. "Whoosie's coming over," she'd say when she couldn't remember someone's name. And I loved her Jersey accent, which she never completely shed even after living in California for nearly fifty years. "I'd like a root beer," she'd say, pronouncing "root" like "put." It made me laugh.
She is a stubborn lady, and she knew how to hold a grudge. But I don't think anyone in our family ever doubted her love.
I love you, Grandma. You are the perfect model for the matriarch of a family. I hope I can be just like you.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Flagrant Fouls (Or Worse) in Sports
In my new WIP, one of the characters is intentionally tackled and his hand is stepped on and broken during a soccer match. The question is, what are the consequences to the bullying opponent for his actions?
My dad, a die-hard sports fan, exceptional athlete in his own right, and currently a high school tennis coach, was quick to dismiss it. "That's what happens in contact sports in the heat of the game."
"Even if he tripped the guy and broke his hand intentionally?" I asked.
"Then he should be thrown out of the game," Dad said.
I countered with, "But in real life, that would be assault. You'd be arrested for that."
"Sports are not real life," he pointed out. "It's almost impossible to prove that someone commits a flagrant foul with the intent to harm. How do you prove that? The kid will just say that he accidentally stepped on the guy's hand."
Suppose you know it's intentional, though. What then? We agreed that in that case the offender should be kicked off the team and suspended from school. Is that adequate though? Too lenient, or too harsh?
I'm all for the competitive spirit. As a soccer referee for my kids' AYSO teams, I've learned a lot of little tricks that players will use to gain an advantage (palming the ball on the side of their body facing away from the ref - no hands allowed in soccer, remember - or kind of a chicken-wing jab with the elbow to your opponent's chest when no one's looking). I kind of like that stuff. Not that I condone cheating, but I like to see ingenuity on the fly - and I've seen a lot of nifty things on the soccer field that were technically "illegal" but made me whistle under my breath: "Damn, that was tricky!"
Tricky I like, even when I have to call a kid on it. Vicious and cruel are another matter.
In sports, it can be a fine line. But I think we have to catch the kids when they're young, and not let them get away with the little things that will make them think they can get away with the bigger things later on. And kids need to be taught that the rules of basic human decency don't fly out the window the minute you step foot on the field or the court. Rules are rules. Nice is nice. Fair is fair. No matter where you are.
My dad, a die-hard sports fan, exceptional athlete in his own right, and currently a high school tennis coach, was quick to dismiss it. "That's what happens in contact sports in the heat of the game."
"Even if he tripped the guy and broke his hand intentionally?" I asked.
"Then he should be thrown out of the game," Dad said.
I countered with, "But in real life, that would be assault. You'd be arrested for that."
"Sports are not real life," he pointed out. "It's almost impossible to prove that someone commits a flagrant foul with the intent to harm. How do you prove that? The kid will just say that he accidentally stepped on the guy's hand."
Suppose you know it's intentional, though. What then? We agreed that in that case the offender should be kicked off the team and suspended from school. Is that adequate though? Too lenient, or too harsh?
I'm all for the competitive spirit. As a soccer referee for my kids' AYSO teams, I've learned a lot of little tricks that players will use to gain an advantage (palming the ball on the side of their body facing away from the ref - no hands allowed in soccer, remember - or kind of a chicken-wing jab with the elbow to your opponent's chest when no one's looking). I kind of like that stuff. Not that I condone cheating, but I like to see ingenuity on the fly - and I've seen a lot of nifty things on the soccer field that were technically "illegal" but made me whistle under my breath: "Damn, that was tricky!"
Tricky I like, even when I have to call a kid on it. Vicious and cruel are another matter.
In sports, it can be a fine line. But I think we have to catch the kids when they're young, and not let them get away with the little things that will make them think they can get away with the bigger things later on. And kids need to be taught that the rules of basic human decency don't fly out the window the minute you step foot on the field or the court. Rules are rules. Nice is nice. Fair is fair. No matter where you are.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Mother's Day
I've been so caught up in revisions and queries for The Surge that I haven't written in a while. But tonight I'm taking the time.
A little boy in our neighborhood passed away this weekend from leukemia. It was a four-year battle, and Dylan Abbey was sick for half his life.
My heart goes out to his family.
When Dylan was first diagnosed, we lived across the street from them. Dylan was such a sweet, shy kid. I remember one Halloween, we had a giant rubber rat on our porch. When Dylan and his twin brother Logan approached, Logan (bigger and stronger and more outgoing) wouldn't go anywhere near the rat. But Dylan marched right up to pet it. He had an inner strength, courage, even at four years old.
I cannot imagine what the family has gone through, what they will continue to struggle through. They have been in my prayers for the last four years, and now they will be in my prayers always and always.
To Debbie, Troy, Logan, and the entire Abbey family, all our sympathies.
A little boy in our neighborhood passed away this weekend from leukemia. It was a four-year battle, and Dylan Abbey was sick for half his life.
My heart goes out to his family.
When Dylan was first diagnosed, we lived across the street from them. Dylan was such a sweet, shy kid. I remember one Halloween, we had a giant rubber rat on our porch. When Dylan and his twin brother Logan approached, Logan (bigger and stronger and more outgoing) wouldn't go anywhere near the rat. But Dylan marched right up to pet it. He had an inner strength, courage, even at four years old.
I cannot imagine what the family has gone through, what they will continue to struggle through. They have been in my prayers for the last four years, and now they will be in my prayers always and always.
To Debbie, Troy, Logan, and the entire Abbey family, all our sympathies.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
LA Times Festival of Books
We took the kids to the LA Times Festival of Books today.
I would have loved to sit in on the panels - that was where the "real" stuff was happening - but we decided to make it a family affair instead. This was first time we'd attended.
My kids loved the Children's Stage. We got there in time to hear John Carter Cash read his book, Momma Loves Her Little Son. All the kids listened intently, and they were particularly fascinated that the actual author was doing the reading! Tyler said, "Wow! We get to see a famous guy! Who is he again?" Sorry, Mr. Cash. Even though each of our kids has an extensive library, we'd never heard of Momma Loves Her Little Son.
But that's the cool thing about this festival. We sure know Mr. Cash now. I love the idea of a venue that introduces readers to new (or not so well-known) writers.
We liked that everything was spread out. We got to see a fair bit of the beautiful UCLA campus, and the kids (and Mike) loved the architecture. We parked in a far parking structure and took the shuttle to the festival entrance. On the shuttle, we got a nice glimpse of Westwood. We fell in love with the college town.
A couple of things weren't so great. The booths were crowded together, which made navigation difficult - there were literally thousands of people there. It was difficult to see where lines for author signings began - cordoned-off areas for the lines would have been nice.
I'm sure my experience would have been different without the kids, but hey - they are the next generation of readers and writers. Anything is worth getting them excited about books.
It was a great day. We will definitely be going again next year. Thanks, LA Times and UCLA.
I would have loved to sit in on the panels - that was where the "real" stuff was happening - but we decided to make it a family affair instead. This was first time we'd attended.
My kids loved the Children's Stage. We got there in time to hear John Carter Cash read his book, Momma Loves Her Little Son. All the kids listened intently, and they were particularly fascinated that the actual author was doing the reading! Tyler said, "Wow! We get to see a famous guy! Who is he again?" Sorry, Mr. Cash. Even though each of our kids has an extensive library, we'd never heard of Momma Loves Her Little Son.
But that's the cool thing about this festival. We sure know Mr. Cash now. I love the idea of a venue that introduces readers to new (or not so well-known) writers.
We liked that everything was spread out. We got to see a fair bit of the beautiful UCLA campus, and the kids (and Mike) loved the architecture. We parked in a far parking structure and took the shuttle to the festival entrance. On the shuttle, we got a nice glimpse of Westwood. We fell in love with the college town.
A couple of things weren't so great. The booths were crowded together, which made navigation difficult - there were literally thousands of people there. It was difficult to see where lines for author signings began - cordoned-off areas for the lines would have been nice.
I'm sure my experience would have been different without the kids, but hey - they are the next generation of readers and writers. Anything is worth getting them excited about books.
It was a great day. We will definitely be going again next year. Thanks, LA Times and UCLA.
Friday, April 23, 2010
The Surge Book 1 is Finished!
I finally finished my first complete draft of my YA urban fantasy novel, Justice: The Surge Series Book 1 - yippee!
Hannah and a group of her school friends are going to read my draft and give me feedback. I'm anxious to hear something from my target audience.
Earlier this week, I bit the bullet and attended my first writer's group meeting - the IWOSC - OC. I was nervous, but everyone there was lovely and made me feel genuinely welcome. It was an interesting cast of characters, people from many different walks of life, writing many different genres from many different perspectives. It was exactly what I needed. Thank you, fellow writers!
I've completed my first full-scale revision of the book, and I'm going to give it one more critical run before I declare, "The End." I'm hoping to finish up my query letter and synopsis by June 1.
The writer's group is giving me five minutes to read my work at the next meeting. Should I read chapter one of First Impressions, the book I'm currently querying on? Should I read part of Justice? Should I read my Justice query letter? I want to pick the one I have the least confidence in, so that I'll get the most needed feedback. Have to think about it.
Hannah and a group of her school friends are going to read my draft and give me feedback. I'm anxious to hear something from my target audience.
Earlier this week, I bit the bullet and attended my first writer's group meeting - the IWOSC - OC. I was nervous, but everyone there was lovely and made me feel genuinely welcome. It was an interesting cast of characters, people from many different walks of life, writing many different genres from many different perspectives. It was exactly what I needed. Thank you, fellow writers!
I've completed my first full-scale revision of the book, and I'm going to give it one more critical run before I declare, "The End." I'm hoping to finish up my query letter and synopsis by June 1.
The writer's group is giving me five minutes to read my work at the next meeting. Should I read chapter one of First Impressions, the book I'm currently querying on? Should I read part of Justice? Should I read my Justice query letter? I want to pick the one I have the least confidence in, so that I'll get the most needed feedback. Have to think about it.
Should Parents Be Held Responsible for Children's Crimes?
Interesting: http://www.thelocal.se/24924/20100211/
I was doing some research for my latest book on laws that hold parents responsible for the crimes of their minor children.
Sweden recently passed a law that will hold parents financially responsible. I think this is a no-brainer.
If my child sends a baseball through your bedroom window, I will replace your window.
If my child accidentally breaks your DVD player, I will buy you a new one.
If my child tramples your flowers, I will plant you new ones.
Isn't that what responsible parents do? And for those not-so-responsible parents, if your child causes significant damage to my property (intentionally or not), and you won't pony up, I'll be seeing you in small claims court.
It's sad that we need so many laws just to get people to do the right thing. But I guess that's the whole point of law. The sticky part comes in when people can't agree on what the right thing is.
Not many people would disagree with me on the window, the DVD player, or the flowers. But what if your 16-year-old sneaks out, gets drunk, and crashes his car into a store? Are you responsible for the damages to the store, the medical bills of those injured? As the child gets older and the financial costs incurred rise, people are more and more divided on the issue of holding parents responsible.
In Sweden, before this law was passed, minor children incurred the costs of their actions/crimes themselves - when they turned 18, the bills came due. They were finding, however, that many youths were starting their adulthood in financial holes that they couldn't possibly dig themselves out of. The solution was to drop parents in the hole instead.
I'm with Sweden on this - parents should be held responsible. Yes, children make mistakes. Yes, good parents can have bad children. BUT, most of the time, wayward children are the result of negligent, lazy, apathetic, or just plain bad parents. I have no problem with giving parents a reason to be more on top of their kids.
This will probably bite me in the ass someday - I'm far from a perfect parent. But if I have to shell out thousands of dollars for something my kids do, I'll suck it up and pay. That's what I signed on to do when I decided to have children. I signed on to be their parent.
I was doing some research for my latest book on laws that hold parents responsible for the crimes of their minor children.
Sweden recently passed a law that will hold parents financially responsible. I think this is a no-brainer.
If my child sends a baseball through your bedroom window, I will replace your window.
If my child accidentally breaks your DVD player, I will buy you a new one.
If my child tramples your flowers, I will plant you new ones.
Isn't that what responsible parents do? And for those not-so-responsible parents, if your child causes significant damage to my property (intentionally or not), and you won't pony up, I'll be seeing you in small claims court.
It's sad that we need so many laws just to get people to do the right thing. But I guess that's the whole point of law. The sticky part comes in when people can't agree on what the right thing is.
Not many people would disagree with me on the window, the DVD player, or the flowers. But what if your 16-year-old sneaks out, gets drunk, and crashes his car into a store? Are you responsible for the damages to the store, the medical bills of those injured? As the child gets older and the financial costs incurred rise, people are more and more divided on the issue of holding parents responsible.
In Sweden, before this law was passed, minor children incurred the costs of their actions/crimes themselves - when they turned 18, the bills came due. They were finding, however, that many youths were starting their adulthood in financial holes that they couldn't possibly dig themselves out of. The solution was to drop parents in the hole instead.
I'm with Sweden on this - parents should be held responsible. Yes, children make mistakes. Yes, good parents can have bad children. BUT, most of the time, wayward children are the result of negligent, lazy, apathetic, or just plain bad parents. I have no problem with giving parents a reason to be more on top of their kids.
This will probably bite me in the ass someday - I'm far from a perfect parent. But if I have to shell out thousands of dollars for something my kids do, I'll suck it up and pay. That's what I signed on to do when I decided to have children. I signed on to be their parent.
Saturday, April 17, 2010
Writers Need Social Media
I am introverted, although that may be too mild a word for it. Except for the company of my kids and my husband, I prefer to be alone.
It's not that I don't like people, or that I don't need friends. I just don't need them all the time. I don't feel the need to dissect my day, relate my conversations with people word for word, or complain about how long the line at the grocery store was. I have friends who need that, and I listen politely, but I don't reciprocate.
I also don't like to bore people with the minutiae of my life. Maybe that's part of why I'm a writer - I can write all the minutiae down, and people can either read it or walk away. There's no force involved.
Writers, however, need a large social network to be commercially successful. My dad currently has 836 friends on Facebook. "Do you know all these people?" I asked him.
"No," he said. "Most of them, but some are friends of friends, or are simply interested in the same charities as me. It's a great way to get exposure for the charities." He told me to start a new Facebook page for my writing (up until now, I've been selective about my 53 friends), and add anyone who will join. "Just get your name out there. Post some short stories. Generate interest." Easy for the master networker to say.
I know I have to do it. I started my blogs a couple of months ago, first as something to get me writing everyday, and second as a way of getting my feet wet into the whole social media thing. I was excited when I saw that I'm consistently getting 10 new, unique visitors every day (don't laugh). According to the experts, though, I need 1,000 followers and at least as many hits a day to be taken seriously.
Uh, yeah. I'll get right on that.
So all I have to do is push down that squishy, nauseated feeling in my stomach, start a fan page on Facebook (and invite everyone I've ever met, starting in preschool), start tweeting, open a MySpace account, create a unique website (www.andrearingrocks.com, coming soon) with a cool Flash introduction, continue my daily blogs...oh, and keep cranking out 2000 words a day on my novels.
Musn't forget the actual writing.
How do working, struggling writers do all that? Where do they find the time? My family does need clean underwear too, you know.
What's a writer to do?
It's not that I don't like people, or that I don't need friends. I just don't need them all the time. I don't feel the need to dissect my day, relate my conversations with people word for word, or complain about how long the line at the grocery store was. I have friends who need that, and I listen politely, but I don't reciprocate.
I also don't like to bore people with the minutiae of my life. Maybe that's part of why I'm a writer - I can write all the minutiae down, and people can either read it or walk away. There's no force involved.
Writers, however, need a large social network to be commercially successful. My dad currently has 836 friends on Facebook. "Do you know all these people?" I asked him.
"No," he said. "Most of them, but some are friends of friends, or are simply interested in the same charities as me. It's a great way to get exposure for the charities." He told me to start a new Facebook page for my writing (up until now, I've been selective about my 53 friends), and add anyone who will join. "Just get your name out there. Post some short stories. Generate interest." Easy for the master networker to say.
I know I have to do it. I started my blogs a couple of months ago, first as something to get me writing everyday, and second as a way of getting my feet wet into the whole social media thing. I was excited when I saw that I'm consistently getting 10 new, unique visitors every day (don't laugh). According to the experts, though, I need 1,000 followers and at least as many hits a day to be taken seriously.
Uh, yeah. I'll get right on that.
So all I have to do is push down that squishy, nauseated feeling in my stomach, start a fan page on Facebook (and invite everyone I've ever met, starting in preschool), start tweeting, open a MySpace account, create a unique website (www.andrearingrocks.com, coming soon) with a cool Flash introduction, continue my daily blogs...oh, and keep cranking out 2000 words a day on my novels.
Musn't forget the actual writing.
How do working, struggling writers do all that? Where do they find the time? My family does need clean underwear too, you know.
What's a writer to do?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Your Glasses Are...Uh...Crooked
So said an acquaintance I ran into at the store today.
As if I hadn't noticed.
No, I don't just need to straighten them. They are permanently wonky, and if I try to bend them back, the left temple is sure to snap off at the hinge (I actually looked up the correct names of the parts of eyeglasses to be able to communicate that - who the hell knew the arm-thingies were called temples?). My lovely 3-year-old Alex got a hold of them while I was in the shower, and they are now beyond repair.
So get new ones, you say.
Great idea, except...we don't have the money. At least, that is not the way I want to spend the money we do have.
See, Jackson needs shoes. Hannah needs tights, shoes, leotard, and makeup for her upcoming production, and we have to buy tickets if we actually want to see her perform. Alex needs swim lessons this summer. Tyler wants to play soccer.
I mean, I could get new glasses, but I'm choosing to wait until we're flush or until these glasses won't stay on the end of my nose. That's what a mother does.
So if you see me, and my head is tilted to the side, and you're wondering what the hell is wrong with me...now you know.
As if I hadn't noticed.
No, I don't just need to straighten them. They are permanently wonky, and if I try to bend them back, the left temple is sure to snap off at the hinge (I actually looked up the correct names of the parts of eyeglasses to be able to communicate that - who the hell knew the arm-thingies were called temples?). My lovely 3-year-old Alex got a hold of them while I was in the shower, and they are now beyond repair.
So get new ones, you say.
Great idea, except...we don't have the money. At least, that is not the way I want to spend the money we do have.
See, Jackson needs shoes. Hannah needs tights, shoes, leotard, and makeup for her upcoming production, and we have to buy tickets if we actually want to see her perform. Alex needs swim lessons this summer. Tyler wants to play soccer.
I mean, I could get new glasses, but I'm choosing to wait until we're flush or until these glasses won't stay on the end of my nose. That's what a mother does.
So if you see me, and my head is tilted to the side, and you're wondering what the hell is wrong with me...now you know.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Cussing
On a side note, even though we're strict about what we let our kids get away with, I personally cuss like a sailor. I try not to do it around the kids, but the words sometimes do slip out.
Does that make me a hypocrite?
Sometimes I think so. And then I think about other adult things, like drinking beer or having sex. Some things are simply age-inappropriate, not life-inappropriate. The trick is teaching your kids the difference.
Does that make me a hypocrite?
Sometimes I think so. And then I think about other adult things, like drinking beer or having sex. Some things are simply age-inappropriate, not life-inappropriate. The trick is teaching your kids the difference.
Song Lyrics
Until this year, we had never let our daughter listen to "regular" stations on the radio. Radio Disney was it - they edit out questionable lyrics, and we never worried about what they'd say in their commentary.
My husband had always filled Hannah's iPod for her, choosing fun oldies (are the 80s and 90s considered "oldies" yet?), again making sure the versions of the songs were appropriate for her ears.
But we quickly learned that this was like trying to keep our kids from drinking soda -as soon as they were able to make their own choices and go places on their own (even a friend's house), we could only isolate them so much. Hannah's friends had iPods of their own, and since the school day is extra long at OCHSA, everyone swaps iPods and listens to each other's music. Hannah knows what we think is appropriate, and generally she's very good about staying within our boundaries. But when everyone in the cafeteria is rocking out to Lady Gaga, what is a parent to do?
So we eased up on the music thing. We gave Hannah a Black Eyed Peas CD for Christmas. It has some cussing on it, but we discussed it with her and she knows the words are inappropriate for conversation.
The CD is currently in my car. She turns it on every time we get in. I've heard the songs more times than I can count. Many times, though, I can't even understand what they're saying.
On the drive to school this morning, we were listening to "Imma Be" (cool way of saying "I'm going to be"). I wasn't really listening. Hannah asked, "What's semen?"
"What?" I said. "Why?"
"The song says, 'Imma be ya bank, I be loaning out semen.'"
Dear Lord.
"You don't know what semen is?" I asked her.
She shrugged. "Something to do with sperm, I think?"
I sighed and explained what is was, how it was used in the song. Hannah cut me off before I even finished: "Got it!" she said.
We opened a can of worms, and I guess that's the price we pay. She's not too young to know about this stuff, but I hate how song lyrics make everything so casual, so unimportant. Just another day, loaning out my semen. Christ.
Where's the class, people?
My husband had always filled Hannah's iPod for her, choosing fun oldies (are the 80s and 90s considered "oldies" yet?), again making sure the versions of the songs were appropriate for her ears.
But we quickly learned that this was like trying to keep our kids from drinking soda -as soon as they were able to make their own choices and go places on their own (even a friend's house), we could only isolate them so much. Hannah's friends had iPods of their own, and since the school day is extra long at OCHSA, everyone swaps iPods and listens to each other's music. Hannah knows what we think is appropriate, and generally she's very good about staying within our boundaries. But when everyone in the cafeteria is rocking out to Lady Gaga, what is a parent to do?
So we eased up on the music thing. We gave Hannah a Black Eyed Peas CD for Christmas. It has some cussing on it, but we discussed it with her and she knows the words are inappropriate for conversation.
The CD is currently in my car. She turns it on every time we get in. I've heard the songs more times than I can count. Many times, though, I can't even understand what they're saying.
On the drive to school this morning, we were listening to "Imma Be" (cool way of saying "I'm going to be"). I wasn't really listening. Hannah asked, "What's semen?"
"What?" I said. "Why?"
"The song says, 'Imma be ya bank, I be loaning out semen.'"
Dear Lord.
"You don't know what semen is?" I asked her.
She shrugged. "Something to do with sperm, I think?"
I sighed and explained what is was, how it was used in the song. Hannah cut me off before I even finished: "Got it!" she said.
We opened a can of worms, and I guess that's the price we pay. She's not too young to know about this stuff, but I hate how song lyrics make everything so casual, so unimportant. Just another day, loaning out my semen. Christ.
Where's the class, people?
Friday, April 9, 2010
My Fill-In-The-Gaps Books
I came across a great site today: www.fillinthegaps100.blogspot.com
People challenge themselves to reading 100 books within five years. What a fantastic concept.
My own "to-read" list constantly changes, but I like the idea of having a concrete list to pull from, especially such a list filled with books I know I should read but simply haven't made the time for. So over the next few days, I'll be compiling my list and keeping it updated on a separate page.
Thanks everyone over at Fill in the Gaps 100. Too cool.
People challenge themselves to reading 100 books within five years. What a fantastic concept.
My own "to-read" list constantly changes, but I like the idea of having a concrete list to pull from, especially such a list filled with books I know I should read but simply haven't made the time for. So over the next few days, I'll be compiling my list and keeping it updated on a separate page.
Thanks everyone over at Fill in the Gaps 100. Too cool.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Motherhood Back to the Forefront
Tonight I cried after I tucked my kids in bed. I've been doing a lot of that lately because of Grandpa, but tonight wasn't about him - it was about the kids.
I told the kids to each pick a book and we'd read before bed. This used to be a regular thing, but since Grandpa moved in with us...not so much. I'm usually so exhausted and overwhelmed that I just want everyone to go to sleep so I can have some alone time and write.
I set it all aside, though, tonight. We set a chair in front of the boys' bunk bed, and three of us cuddled on the bed while one of us took turns reading from the chair.
God, how I missed that.
Tyler and Alex had just had baths, and their perfumed hair tickled my nose. Jackson had gone straight to pajamas, and he smelled like boy and dirt and that indefinable scent that is just him. I buried my face in his hair, rubbed Alex's back, and cuddled Tyler in my lap as Hannah read her book choice to us.
Then Jackson read The Giving Tree, and I got to rub my daughter's feet while Jackson did his best tree impression (thank God she's not too old to snuggle). Then I got the pleasure of watching the four of them cuddle up together while I read Ray Romano's Raymie, Dickie, and the Bean, and If I Built a Car.
My kids are freaking hilarious. And smart, too. Have I mentioned that? They were a balm for my battered soul.
I'm sorry, guys, for not making more time for you lately. That is over. We're going to be reading every night, making smores, and frosting cupcakes. You're already so grown up! I don't want to miss another second.
I told the kids to each pick a book and we'd read before bed. This used to be a regular thing, but since Grandpa moved in with us...not so much. I'm usually so exhausted and overwhelmed that I just want everyone to go to sleep so I can have some alone time and write.
I set it all aside, though, tonight. We set a chair in front of the boys' bunk bed, and three of us cuddled on the bed while one of us took turns reading from the chair.
God, how I missed that.
Tyler and Alex had just had baths, and their perfumed hair tickled my nose. Jackson had gone straight to pajamas, and he smelled like boy and dirt and that indefinable scent that is just him. I buried my face in his hair, rubbed Alex's back, and cuddled Tyler in my lap as Hannah read her book choice to us.
Then Jackson read The Giving Tree, and I got to rub my daughter's feet while Jackson did his best tree impression (thank God she's not too old to snuggle). Then I got the pleasure of watching the four of them cuddle up together while I read Ray Romano's Raymie, Dickie, and the Bean, and If I Built a Car.
My kids are freaking hilarious. And smart, too. Have I mentioned that? They were a balm for my battered soul.
I'm sorry, guys, for not making more time for you lately. That is over. We're going to be reading every night, making smores, and frosting cupcakes. You're already so grown up! I don't want to miss another second.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Grandpa is Moving Out
Our life is taking another big turn this week. Grandpa is moving out, hopefully as soon as Saturday.
He hit me today. He was agitated, confused, frustrated, and he lashed out in the only way he knew how. (Read about it at my other blog, www.caretakerchronicles.blogspot.com)
We can't have that in our home, with four children running around, so he has to go.
He's only been with us for four months, so it shouldn't be that big a deal to rearrange our lives, our schedules, our furniture. But it feels like a big deal. For four months, our lives have revolved around Grandpa.
I wish things were different, but I know the kids will be relieved. This will free up a bedroom, for one (the three boys have a makeshift bedroom in the garden room). We'll be able to come and go as we please. You want to go to the park? Okay! You want to run and get frozen yogurt? You bet! Anyone up for a movie? Let's go!
The kids' lives have been on hold since Grandpa moved in, and they've never once complained about it.
I have a lot of mixed emotions about this, but if I focus on the positive, I have to admit that this is best for our kids. They should have been the priority all along.
It's just one more thing to feel guilty about.
He hit me today. He was agitated, confused, frustrated, and he lashed out in the only way he knew how. (Read about it at my other blog, www.caretakerchronicles.blogspot.com)
We can't have that in our home, with four children running around, so he has to go.
He's only been with us for four months, so it shouldn't be that big a deal to rearrange our lives, our schedules, our furniture. But it feels like a big deal. For four months, our lives have revolved around Grandpa.
I wish things were different, but I know the kids will be relieved. This will free up a bedroom, for one (the three boys have a makeshift bedroom in the garden room). We'll be able to come and go as we please. You want to go to the park? Okay! You want to run and get frozen yogurt? You bet! Anyone up for a movie? Let's go!
The kids' lives have been on hold since Grandpa moved in, and they've never once complained about it.
I have a lot of mixed emotions about this, but if I focus on the positive, I have to admit that this is best for our kids. They should have been the priority all along.
It's just one more thing to feel guilty about.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Best Read-Aloud Books for Kids
We first picked up this book because our 5-yr-old was obsessed with trains, but we all love this book. It's about dinosaurs longing for adventure who decide to ride a train. The stanzas rhyme perfectly and are very clever - so clever that this book is MY first choice to read every night. It's the kind of book you wish you had been creative enough to have written yourself.
Another clever rhyming book about a kid who imagines the "ultimate" car. Great for sparking the imagination - kids will want to design their own cars after this.
The name "Skippyjon Jones" is just fun to say, and this book is filled with silly phrases to read out loud. It's one of my 12-year-old's favorites - she loves to do the accents.
Silly book about a land where food falls out of the sky. My kids love the idea of this, and we often end up discussing the food "weather" we wish we could experience, rather than finishing the book.
I suspect that my kids just love to hear me say the word "stinky." This tale is just like The Gingerbread Man, and my kids love the refrain from that story, "Run, run, as fast as you can, you can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man." Take out "gingerbread" and insert "stinky cheese," and we have a winner.
This is a great book for letting your kids know that everybody has bad days sometimes. Viorst's words are perfect - you can picture a real kid going through these "horrors" that seem like such a big deal when you're young.
I personally don't understand why every one of my kids LOVES this book. It's an odd book, with weird word choices, and old-fashioned illustrations. But what do I know? Let me reiterate: EVERY kid I know who has been read this book wants to hear it again. And again.
Short, to the point, and has animal noises. Perfect.
A classic about a tree that gives a boy everything it has 'til it has nothing left. Sad, but I love to hear the empathy my kids have for the tree.
Even my 3 boys love this story of little Madeline, who lives in a boarding school and has to have her appendix taken out. Maybe they just like to hear me make a fool of myself with a very poor French accent.
My kids love the idea of becoming a pirate. Sailing, buried treasure...every kid's dream.
Very funny. Another book that looks like it's for girls, but the boys like it just as much.
This is for kids 8 and up. It's about a boy who runs away to the live in the mountains. My kids love the idea of being able to run away, live in a hollowed-out tree, and eat the things they can catch. Too cool.
Great for 6 to 10-yr-olds. These are funny books, lots of plays on words that kids might not immediately understand - that's why they're great to read aloud together - you can explain along the way. My 9-yr-old has the whole series (about 10 books) and has read them numerous times, both with me and by himself.
If you only have one book in your children's library, this should be it. It has all the classics (Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, Madeline, Goodnight Moon, Curious George) and many newer books as well (Stellaluna, Owen, The Stinky Cheese Man). There are 44 books in this anthology - amazing value. This is also a great gift to give at a baby shower.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Do You Ever Wonder What Your Life Would Be Like If...
Every year or so, it really hits me - what would my life be like if I were single with no children? What the heck would I do with myself?
I was married young (21) and had my first child young (22). I remember the first time it even occurred to me that life would be very different if I'd chosen a different path.
One of my oldest friends started a bunco group and invited me to join. This friend was single and childless. This was about seven years ago.
I remember walking into her condo (she'd recently moved back to our hometown and this was my first visit to her new place), and looking at her bookshelf. She had a few chick lit novels, a few picture frames, and several chunky scented candles on delicate plates. Wow, I thought, she has candles on the low shelves. Any child could reach them...
And then it hit me - she doesn't have any children. She could put a candle on the bottom shelf and even keep a book of matches nearby for easy lighting. Amazing! And there were no board books, no Blues Clues DVDs, no Tonka trucks or stuffed animals taking up coveted book space. And no boring books on Mt. Everest hikes, or camping, or military history, like my husband liked to read. Man.
What would it be like to have an entire bookshelf to myself? How would I arrange it? Would books would get the places of honor? What pictures would I frame and display if the choice were all up to me?
I call it "My Bookshelf Musing," and it has come to me over the years at odd moments. Usually one of my single friends will trigger it with something they say or do. It hits me that they have no "curfew," no one waiting up for them, no one hogging the bathroom, no bulked up stereo system to integrate into the living room design...
And no one to hug them when they come through the door, no one to warm up their toes on a cold night, no one to snuggle with during Survivor, no one to hold their hair back while they puke, no one to kiss them and tell them not to let the bedbugs bite.
My musings never last long, but I do find them interesting.
And very, very lonely.
I was married young (21) and had my first child young (22). I remember the first time it even occurred to me that life would be very different if I'd chosen a different path.
One of my oldest friends started a bunco group and invited me to join. This friend was single and childless. This was about seven years ago.
I remember walking into her condo (she'd recently moved back to our hometown and this was my first visit to her new place), and looking at her bookshelf. She had a few chick lit novels, a few picture frames, and several chunky scented candles on delicate plates. Wow, I thought, she has candles on the low shelves. Any child could reach them...
And then it hit me - she doesn't have any children. She could put a candle on the bottom shelf and even keep a book of matches nearby for easy lighting. Amazing! And there were no board books, no Blues Clues DVDs, no Tonka trucks or stuffed animals taking up coveted book space. And no boring books on Mt. Everest hikes, or camping, or military history, like my husband liked to read. Man.
What would it be like to have an entire bookshelf to myself? How would I arrange it? Would books would get the places of honor? What pictures would I frame and display if the choice were all up to me?
I call it "My Bookshelf Musing," and it has come to me over the years at odd moments. Usually one of my single friends will trigger it with something they say or do. It hits me that they have no "curfew," no one waiting up for them, no one hogging the bathroom, no bulked up stereo system to integrate into the living room design...
And no one to hug them when they come through the door, no one to warm up their toes on a cold night, no one to snuggle with during Survivor, no one to hold their hair back while they puke, no one to kiss them and tell them not to let the bedbugs bite.
My musings never last long, but I do find them interesting.
And very, very lonely.
Saturday, April 3, 2010
New to Authonomy
I stumbled on Authonomy, a website created by HarperCollins to presumably promote unpublished novels. I am wary about posting any of my work online, but I was curious about the level of talent on such a site. So I signed up and began reading.
The premise of the site is that fellow members read your work, comment, and if they like your work, they put it on their bookshelf. All posted work is ranked according to how many people put it on their bookshelves. The top five works every month are then edited by HC editors.
I decided to start with the top five-ranked books for this month. I will not publicly disparage anyone's writing - writing is a process, and we all work very hard at it and I greatly respect that - BUT...
I read the first three chapters of three of the top five books.
NONE were well-edited. Basic proofreading was not carefully done. I had to force myself to pay attention to the stories.
ALL of the writing was clumsy.
NONE of the stories drew me in. A couple had a decent premise, but I had to force myself to finish three chapters. I did not want to finish them based on what I was reading.
There are something like 5000+ works posted on this site. Were these top five honestly the best? I also read through at least 20 comments posted for each book. Only one or two of the 20 offered real critique - the rest were ego stroking, I gather so that the writer would go back and place the commenter's work on his bookshelf in return.
What am I missing? What is the point?
Others have commented in blogs or on the Authonomy forum that very few posted works have been published by HC or been found by other agents/publishers. No wonder. The cream is not rising to the top (supposing there is any cream there to begin with).
I'm going to stick it out with Authonomy a bit longer, see if I can find any hidden gems. But I won't be posting my own work any time soon. If I did, it would only be to get some decent feedback. But it didn't appear that honest feedback is to be found there.
I could be wrong. I'll continue to read posted works on Authonomy for the next month. I'm hoping that will give me enough time to eat my words.
The premise of the site is that fellow members read your work, comment, and if they like your work, they put it on their bookshelf. All posted work is ranked according to how many people put it on their bookshelves. The top five works every month are then edited by HC editors.
I decided to start with the top five-ranked books for this month. I will not publicly disparage anyone's writing - writing is a process, and we all work very hard at it and I greatly respect that - BUT...
I read the first three chapters of three of the top five books.
NONE were well-edited. Basic proofreading was not carefully done. I had to force myself to pay attention to the stories.
ALL of the writing was clumsy.
NONE of the stories drew me in. A couple had a decent premise, but I had to force myself to finish three chapters. I did not want to finish them based on what I was reading.
There are something like 5000+ works posted on this site. Were these top five honestly the best? I also read through at least 20 comments posted for each book. Only one or two of the 20 offered real critique - the rest were ego stroking, I gather so that the writer would go back and place the commenter's work on his bookshelf in return.
What am I missing? What is the point?
Others have commented in blogs or on the Authonomy forum that very few posted works have been published by HC or been found by other agents/publishers. No wonder. The cream is not rising to the top (supposing there is any cream there to begin with).
I'm going to stick it out with Authonomy a bit longer, see if I can find any hidden gems. But I won't be posting my own work any time soon. If I did, it would only be to get some decent feedback. But it didn't appear that honest feedback is to be found there.
I could be wrong. I'll continue to read posted works on Authonomy for the next month. I'm hoping that will give me enough time to eat my words.
Dilemma
My daughter is only 12, in the seventh grade. As I've said, she's fairly sheltered in terms of what we expose her to (no rated R movies, or explicit music, definitely no MTV). But I have had all the sex talks with her, and when we decided she was going to attend OCHSA, we had some heavy conversations about sexual orientation. OCHSA is an arts school, heavily liberal, and I knew that many of her classmates would be openly gay. No big deal, but I made sure she was prepared in term of understanding it and being open-minded.
Today one of her friends - not a current schoolmate - admitted to Hannah that she may be bisexual. This friend said she often looked at girls and thought, "Wow. She's hot."
If this had been a girl from OCHSA, I don't think I'd give it a second thought. Or maybe I would council Hannah on what she could say to her friend - be understanding, tell the friend to discuss it with her parents, assure her that many teens have these feelings. But this friend comes from a very religious family, and I know that homosexuality is a big no-no with them.
Hannah knew it, too. She asked her friend, "Isn't it against your religion?" The friend responded yes, which was why she couldn't talk to her parents about it.
So what do I do? Not that there's much I can do, but do I just leave it alone? Do I give Hannah some special advice to give to her friend? Do I pretend the conversation never took place?
Maybe for now I leave it alone, and if it comes up again, then take some action. I'm at a total loss. Any advice?
Today one of her friends - not a current schoolmate - admitted to Hannah that she may be bisexual. This friend said she often looked at girls and thought, "Wow. She's hot."
If this had been a girl from OCHSA, I don't think I'd give it a second thought. Or maybe I would council Hannah on what she could say to her friend - be understanding, tell the friend to discuss it with her parents, assure her that many teens have these feelings. But this friend comes from a very religious family, and I know that homosexuality is a big no-no with them.
Hannah knew it, too. She asked her friend, "Isn't it against your religion?" The friend responded yes, which was why she couldn't talk to her parents about it.
So what do I do? Not that there's much I can do, but do I just leave it alone? Do I give Hannah some special advice to give to her friend? Do I pretend the conversation never took place?
Maybe for now I leave it alone, and if it comes up again, then take some action. I'm at a total loss. Any advice?
Do I Simply Want My "Book" on the Shelf?
One of my friends asked me today about self-publishing. "Why don't you just do that?" she asked, after I told her about my query letters to agents. "You could save yourself all this grief."
Probably. But self-publishing misses the point for me. I don't just want my book in bound form so I can have it on my shelf and give it out to friends at Christmas. I want to go through the process, and I want to become a better writer.
I believe in myself. I believe that if I work hard enough, improve enough, eventually I'll be able to work as a professional in this business. It may not be quick, and it may not be pretty, but I'll get there.
If I run out and publish my own novel, how will I know that it's any good? How will I know if anyone wants to read it? How do I know if I really appeal to the market - after all, a thing only has value if someone is willing to buy it.
On the other hand, if I get no responses from queries, I suppose I could push ahead and sell my book on my own. If a writer really believes in her project, why wouldn't she?
The only answer I have is that I'm a writer. If the professionals won't back my current novel, I will listen to any advice they give and write something else. I have 5000 ideas in my head, and I enjoy writing. Even if my works don't sell, I still enjoy the process. I'm doing what I love.
That's enough.
Probably. But self-publishing misses the point for me. I don't just want my book in bound form so I can have it on my shelf and give it out to friends at Christmas. I want to go through the process, and I want to become a better writer.
I believe in myself. I believe that if I work hard enough, improve enough, eventually I'll be able to work as a professional in this business. It may not be quick, and it may not be pretty, but I'll get there.
If I run out and publish my own novel, how will I know that it's any good? How will I know if anyone wants to read it? How do I know if I really appeal to the market - after all, a thing only has value if someone is willing to buy it.
On the other hand, if I get no responses from queries, I suppose I could push ahead and sell my book on my own. If a writer really believes in her project, why wouldn't she?
The only answer I have is that I'm a writer. If the professionals won't back my current novel, I will listen to any advice they give and write something else. I have 5000 ideas in my head, and I enjoy writing. Even if my works don't sell, I still enjoy the process. I'm doing what I love.
That's enough.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Why Would You Advertise That?
On my drive to pick Hannah up from school, I pulled behind a car with the following bumper sticker: Girls Cheat, They Just Don't Get Caught.
I always love a good bumper sticker, but this isn't even funny. Of ALL the pithy statements out there, why would you decorate your car with that one?
I always love a good bumper sticker, but this isn't even funny. Of ALL the pithy statements out there, why would you decorate your car with that one?
Query Update
First queries sent out last night. Phew. Is this how all writers feel afterward - like they have a brick sitting in their stomach? Dear God, this could go on for months...how am I going to eat?
Thursday, April 1, 2010
Bullying Leads to Heartbreaking Consequences
On Fox News this morning, they recapped the story of Phoebe Prince, a 15-year-old who committed suicide after being mercilessly bullied. Nine students have been brought up on charges in connection with her death. Her story is heartbreaking, and my heart goes out to her family.
I have a few, probably not-so-PC, comments about this.
First, many people are culpable here, and I'm sure many will live with guilt for the rest of their lives. The question is, is anyone criminally liable?
The school administration & teachers - They knew Phoebe was being bullied and did little to nothing to stop it. This makes them morally bankrupt, and I would seriously consider transferring my child out of that school, but it doesn't make them legally responsible for Phoebe's death.
The student bullies - There are a bunch at every school, in every community. They are selfish, insecure brats, usually with parents of the same ilk. They should have been put in their place a long time ago - first by their parents, and then by their teachers. Do I feel they're legally liable for Phoebe's death? No. HOWEVER, we do not allow adults to act like these bullies (wouldn't it be labeled as "stalking" or "harassment" or "assault"?), so why do we let kids get away with it? They should have suffered consequences for their behavior the moment that behavior occurred. The fact that they didn't is the fault of their parents.
The parents of the bullies - Again, they should not be held legally responsible for Phoebe's death. But they should suffer consequences nonetheless. If you were an adult in their community, would you want to be friends with these people? Would you want your children to hang out with their children? Would you want them attending the same social events as you, or participating in the PTA? I think not. Outcast them. Blacklist them. Whatever it takes to bring some introspection and real regret. Or to get them to move.
Phoebe's family - When parents and family of a suicide victim are suffering, no one wants to stand up and blame them for the death. And I'm not suggesting that we should. Are there things they could have done differently that may have affected the outcome here, though? Yes. One of my cousins fell in with the "bad crowd" in high school, and was arrested for drug possession. My immediate thought was, "Get him out of that school. Get him away from those 'friends.'" Teens face all kinds of peer pressure, and often they do not have enough courage or self-esteem to break away from, or stand up to, the pressure. It's our job as parents to remove them from a harmful situation. I have heard parents say, "I didn't know my child smoked (or did drugs, or was having sex, or was being bullied, etc.)." If that is the case, then you weren't paying attention. These things take time to build, and if we as parents are doing our job, we have the time to act and help correct the situation. Enough said.
The victim - No, it is never the victim's fault. No one deserves to be bullied to the point where they consider taking their own life. Most people suffer teasing and bullying at some point in their childhoods, though. And most of us do not resort to suicide. I do think that the rules are different today, though, than they were even for me (I'm 34). With the social networks (Facebook, MySpace, etc.), with camera phones that can disseminate pictures around the world without a thought, and email, texting, etc., the potential to harass someone, to publicly humiliate them, is greater than ever. Our children face much greater harm from stupid decisions than we ever did.
I don't know what the answer to that is. I think it all goes back to basic decency and morality. We have to teach our children to be nice. Sad that such a simple concept is so out of vogue.
I have a few, probably not-so-PC, comments about this.
First, many people are culpable here, and I'm sure many will live with guilt for the rest of their lives. The question is, is anyone criminally liable?
The school administration & teachers - They knew Phoebe was being bullied and did little to nothing to stop it. This makes them morally bankrupt, and I would seriously consider transferring my child out of that school, but it doesn't make them legally responsible for Phoebe's death.
The student bullies - There are a bunch at every school, in every community. They are selfish, insecure brats, usually with parents of the same ilk. They should have been put in their place a long time ago - first by their parents, and then by their teachers. Do I feel they're legally liable for Phoebe's death? No. HOWEVER, we do not allow adults to act like these bullies (wouldn't it be labeled as "stalking" or "harassment" or "assault"?), so why do we let kids get away with it? They should have suffered consequences for their behavior the moment that behavior occurred. The fact that they didn't is the fault of their parents.
The parents of the bullies - Again, they should not be held legally responsible for Phoebe's death. But they should suffer consequences nonetheless. If you were an adult in their community, would you want to be friends with these people? Would you want your children to hang out with their children? Would you want them attending the same social events as you, or participating in the PTA? I think not. Outcast them. Blacklist them. Whatever it takes to bring some introspection and real regret. Or to get them to move.
Phoebe's family - When parents and family of a suicide victim are suffering, no one wants to stand up and blame them for the death. And I'm not suggesting that we should. Are there things they could have done differently that may have affected the outcome here, though? Yes. One of my cousins fell in with the "bad crowd" in high school, and was arrested for drug possession. My immediate thought was, "Get him out of that school. Get him away from those 'friends.'" Teens face all kinds of peer pressure, and often they do not have enough courage or self-esteem to break away from, or stand up to, the pressure. It's our job as parents to remove them from a harmful situation. I have heard parents say, "I didn't know my child smoked (or did drugs, or was having sex, or was being bullied, etc.)." If that is the case, then you weren't paying attention. These things take time to build, and if we as parents are doing our job, we have the time to act and help correct the situation. Enough said.
The victim - No, it is never the victim's fault. No one deserves to be bullied to the point where they consider taking their own life. Most people suffer teasing and bullying at some point in their childhoods, though. And most of us do not resort to suicide. I do think that the rules are different today, though, than they were even for me (I'm 34). With the social networks (Facebook, MySpace, etc.), with camera phones that can disseminate pictures around the world without a thought, and email, texting, etc., the potential to harass someone, to publicly humiliate them, is greater than ever. Our children face much greater harm from stupid decisions than we ever did.
I don't know what the answer to that is. I think it all goes back to basic decency and morality. We have to teach our children to be nice. Sad that such a simple concept is so out of vogue.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Old-School Punctuation
Sorry if I'm old-school, but I will not change the following rules, and you can't make me:
1. Ending punctuation goes INSIDE quotation marks.
She said, "I like books."
NOT She said, "I like books".
2. Serial commas should not, under any circumstance, be left out.
She liked books, books, and more books.
NOT She liked, books, books and more books.
3. For any singular noun that ends in -s, add 's for the possessive.
Sandy Barnes's new novel speaks to me.
NOT Sandy Barnes' new novel speaks to me.
4. Type two spaces after every sentence, rather than one. It is simply easier to read.
I feel better now.
1. Ending punctuation goes INSIDE quotation marks.
She said, "I like books."
NOT She said, "I like books".
2. Serial commas should not, under any circumstance, be left out.
She liked books, books, and more books.
NOT She liked, books, books and more books.
3. For any singular noun that ends in -s, add 's for the possessive.
Sandy Barnes's new novel speaks to me.
NOT Sandy Barnes' new novel speaks to me.
4. Type two spaces after every sentence, rather than one. It is simply easier to read.
I feel better now.
Letting Your Child Do Things for Himself
We have something called the "Morning Routine" for our kids. Every morning - even weekends - the kids have to get up and do the following:
- Make bed
- Shower (if you are over 8yo)
- Get dressed
- Put pajamas away
- Make breakfast & clean up dishes
- Brush teeth
- Clean up your mess in the bathroom
- Make your lunch and pack your backpack (school day)
Before the kids can leave the house, we ask, "Did you do your morning routine?" Before they are allowed do something "fun" in the morning (like watch tv, play Wii), they must complete the morning routine. They really don't want Dad to catch them playing Wii in their pajamas.
My husband came up with this, and it really works for our family. I don't think the kids have ever been late to school because somebody slept in or dilly-dallied in the morning. The kids get up with a purpose and march right along.
One of my friends (kids ages 5 & 3) asked me how long it took me to get all the kids ready in the morning. I said it doesn't take me any time at all, except maybe 5 minutes before we leave to check that the morning routine was complete. She said, "But doesn't breakfast take you forever with four kids?"
Not when they do it themselves. I get to enjoy a cup of coffee and get a shower while the kids eat.
She really didn't understand this. I mean, how could a 3-year-old make his own breakfast?
We have a kitchen cabinet dedicated to the kids, with plastic/microwaveable dishes and cups. It's down low so even the 3yo can get his own dishes. We also have a breakfast cabinet, and a breakfast drawer in the fridge. Both contain stuff for easy breakfast prep. Our 3yo can get fruit, yogurt, dry cereal, or a Nutri-Grain bar. If one of the other kids will assist, he can make a frozen waffle or toast. Simple.
This is a great concept to parent by: why do something for your child that the child can do for himself?
- Make bed
- Shower (if you are over 8yo)
- Get dressed
- Put pajamas away
- Make breakfast & clean up dishes
- Brush teeth
- Clean up your mess in the bathroom
- Make your lunch and pack your backpack (school day)
Before the kids can leave the house, we ask, "Did you do your morning routine?" Before they are allowed do something "fun" in the morning (like watch tv, play Wii), they must complete the morning routine. They really don't want Dad to catch them playing Wii in their pajamas.
My husband came up with this, and it really works for our family. I don't think the kids have ever been late to school because somebody slept in or dilly-dallied in the morning. The kids get up with a purpose and march right along.
One of my friends (kids ages 5 & 3) asked me how long it took me to get all the kids ready in the morning. I said it doesn't take me any time at all, except maybe 5 minutes before we leave to check that the morning routine was complete. She said, "But doesn't breakfast take you forever with four kids?"
Not when they do it themselves. I get to enjoy a cup of coffee and get a shower while the kids eat.
She really didn't understand this. I mean, how could a 3-year-old make his own breakfast?
We have a kitchen cabinet dedicated to the kids, with plastic/microwaveable dishes and cups. It's down low so even the 3yo can get his own dishes. We also have a breakfast cabinet, and a breakfast drawer in the fridge. Both contain stuff for easy breakfast prep. Our 3yo can get fruit, yogurt, dry cereal, or a Nutri-Grain bar. If one of the other kids will assist, he can make a frozen waffle or toast. Simple.
This is a great concept to parent by: why do something for your child that the child can do for himself?
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Old Friendships Change - Or maybe It's Me
I ended a 23-year friendship today. Feels awful. I've spent the afternoon bawling my eyes out.
But I needed to do it. I think it went on too long as it was. We had simply grown apart, and had little more in common than our shared past and genuine affection for each other. At this time in my life, that is not enough.
I don't have a lot of time for friends right now, so the time I do spend with them, I want it to be meaningful. This friend and I had fallen into the sad pattern of her talking about her relationships, me listening and giving her advice, and her ignoring my advice and plowing on as before. Rarely did I get to talk about my own life, and if I did, she had little to offer and quickly changed the subject - back to her.
Now, I love this friend dearly - we've been through a lot together. But every encounter with her left me disappointed, frustrated, and ultimately angry. I needed SOMETHING back.
Some day I hope we can reconnect again. Maybe in the future she will change, or maybe what I need out of a friendship will change. Either way could work. I'm open to that.
Instead of sharing coffee with her, I will pull out my laptop and post something new on my blog. Same difference, really, except with the blog, I know I'll actually be heard.
But I needed to do it. I think it went on too long as it was. We had simply grown apart, and had little more in common than our shared past and genuine affection for each other. At this time in my life, that is not enough.
I don't have a lot of time for friends right now, so the time I do spend with them, I want it to be meaningful. This friend and I had fallen into the sad pattern of her talking about her relationships, me listening and giving her advice, and her ignoring my advice and plowing on as before. Rarely did I get to talk about my own life, and if I did, she had little to offer and quickly changed the subject - back to her.
Now, I love this friend dearly - we've been through a lot together. But every encounter with her left me disappointed, frustrated, and ultimately angry. I needed SOMETHING back.
Some day I hope we can reconnect again. Maybe in the future she will change, or maybe what I need out of a friendship will change. Either way could work. I'm open to that.
Instead of sharing coffee with her, I will pull out my laptop and post something new on my blog. Same difference, really, except with the blog, I know I'll actually be heard.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Author I Love Wrote me Back!
I've lived near Los Angeles all my life, but I've always had an aversion to celebrities. I've run into countless famous people, but I've never asked for an autograph, never tried to take a photograph, never written a fan letter. Until last night.
I was browsing sf sites, looking for some short stories to read, when I came across a listing of sf authors and their websites. I saw the listing for Joe Haldeman and clicked on it.
Joe Haldeman's The Forever War was really the first sf book I read as an adult. It changed my view of the world, and I've read it many times over the years.
I clicked on Joe's FAQ and read his advice for writers. At the bottom, he listed his email address and said to write to him if you had a question not addressed there. Again, I have a serious AVERSION to doing this, but I couldn't resist - I shot him an email right away.
And what do you know? He wrote me back! We have a three-hour time difference, sure, but by 9:00 this morning, he'd already replied (I wrote last night just before midnight). Amazing.
Mr. Haldeman, thank you. Not only was your response ridiculously prompt, but you took the time to give me advice. I am only a stranger to you, but you took me seriously. I'm truly grateful.
Now I'm going to go print out that email. At the very least, I'm putting it in my files. Who knows - it may just go under my pillow.
I was browsing sf sites, looking for some short stories to read, when I came across a listing of sf authors and their websites. I saw the listing for Joe Haldeman and clicked on it.
Joe Haldeman's The Forever War was really the first sf book I read as an adult. It changed my view of the world, and I've read it many times over the years.
I clicked on Joe's FAQ and read his advice for writers. At the bottom, he listed his email address and said to write to him if you had a question not addressed there. Again, I have a serious AVERSION to doing this, but I couldn't resist - I shot him an email right away.
And what do you know? He wrote me back! We have a three-hour time difference, sure, but by 9:00 this morning, he'd already replied (I wrote last night just before midnight). Amazing.
Mr. Haldeman, thank you. Not only was your response ridiculously prompt, but you took the time to give me advice. I am only a stranger to you, but you took me seriously. I'm truly grateful.
Now I'm going to go print out that email. At the very least, I'm putting it in my files. Who knows - it may just go under my pillow.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Living Away From Family
Things in California are very scary right now. I understand that things are scary around the nation, but California is in a serious mess, and I don't see it cleaning up that mess any time soon. The solution? Move out of California.
We've contemplated moving many times. My husband has family in Kansas and South Carolina, and I love both places. Even though I'm a California girl born and bred, there's much to be said for a simpler, cheaper life. If it were all about money, though, we'd have moved long ago.
All my family is here. My parents, my two living grandparents, two uncles, two aunts, 15 cousins, my brother & sister-in-law & my new 11-month-old nephew - all within a five-minute drive. That's tough to give up. I mean, how would we spend the holidays away from them? What would I do when one of the kids is puking at home, and I need someone to pick another kid up from school? Here, I've always had a built-in backup system.
I know it's common these days for kids to move away from their hometown and settle either where they went to college or where a lucrative job waits. Most of my parents' friends rarely see their grandkids - the grandkids live several states or more away - while my parents see their grandkids almost on a daily basis. The absence of that would be hard on both the grandparents and the grandkids.
A couple of our closest friends are ex-pats from the UK. In the absence of close family, they've developed an amazing network of friends who serve the same function. They spend holidays together, celebrate successes together, raise their kids together. They are very happy.
Could I do that? Could I pack off to a new place and find a network of friends who don't know me from Adam who could take the place of my trusted family?
I could if I had to. That's the sad thing - living in California is so expensive, so burdened with taxes and unnecessary laws, so crowded with illegal immigrants, so hectic and fast-paced, that it's BETTER TO LEAVE MY FAMILY than to continue to try to exist here. California, WAKE UP! You're driving people away, good people who just want to live a modest, happy life. Pretty soon, all that's left will be the illegals, Hollywood, and the over-indulged athletes. Oh, and the Real Housewives of Orange County. Frankly, California, you can have them.
We've contemplated moving many times. My husband has family in Kansas and South Carolina, and I love both places. Even though I'm a California girl born and bred, there's much to be said for a simpler, cheaper life. If it were all about money, though, we'd have moved long ago.
All my family is here. My parents, my two living grandparents, two uncles, two aunts, 15 cousins, my brother & sister-in-law & my new 11-month-old nephew - all within a five-minute drive. That's tough to give up. I mean, how would we spend the holidays away from them? What would I do when one of the kids is puking at home, and I need someone to pick another kid up from school? Here, I've always had a built-in backup system.
I know it's common these days for kids to move away from their hometown and settle either where they went to college or where a lucrative job waits. Most of my parents' friends rarely see their grandkids - the grandkids live several states or more away - while my parents see their grandkids almost on a daily basis. The absence of that would be hard on both the grandparents and the grandkids.
A couple of our closest friends are ex-pats from the UK. In the absence of close family, they've developed an amazing network of friends who serve the same function. They spend holidays together, celebrate successes together, raise their kids together. They are very happy.
Could I do that? Could I pack off to a new place and find a network of friends who don't know me from Adam who could take the place of my trusted family?
I could if I had to. That's the sad thing - living in California is so expensive, so burdened with taxes and unnecessary laws, so crowded with illegal immigrants, so hectic and fast-paced, that it's BETTER TO LEAVE MY FAMILY than to continue to try to exist here. California, WAKE UP! You're driving people away, good people who just want to live a modest, happy life. Pretty soon, all that's left will be the illegals, Hollywood, and the over-indulged athletes. Oh, and the Real Housewives of Orange County. Frankly, California, you can have them.
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