It went down like this. A show-stopping conversation between me and. . my tween.
It started with the high black patent boots this morning. I love her black boots. (I own the same ones.) I did not love them with the leggings, Dr. Seuss t-shirt, belt (albeit, mine), and miniskirt.
"I thought we were wearing that skirt with tights," I said. (We?)
"I hate tights."
"I can see skin between your knees and your boots. That's tacky."
Eye roll.
"Where is your sweater?" I continue, feeling my luck literally PUSH.
"Mom, I don't want to wear a cardigan everyday. I'm not you." Ouch. Truth, and ouch.
"Abby, it's February. You are not wearing a t-shirt. If you are wearing that outfit, put on a sweater.
She did, and I let the outfit, Horton-Hears-a-Who shirt and all, go out the door.
She came in after school without the sweater.
"Where is the sweater?"
She looked at me.
"Where. Is. The. Sweater."
"In my backpack." As if I'm the stupid one. Here's an idea-- if you're going to lie to your mother, don't stroll back into the house without the SWEATER.
"When did you take it off?"
"What?"
At this point, my head might pop off.
"Don't make me say it again."
"6th, 7th and 8th period. After lunch."
"So I can't trust you. That's a real shame."
"Mother! Why is this such a big deal? Is it EVER going to be about ME and what I want to WEAR?"
Her hands were on her hips, she was glaring at me. Again.
"No," I told her. "No, it's not."
"You should see what so-and-so is. . ."
"I. Don't. Care."
"Can't I even say anything in defense of myself?"
"No."
"MOTHER."
It was then that I told her to stop looking at me like I was an alien from outer space. I told her that I did think she looked lovely (most days) and that since I bought every single thing in that closet, I obviously liked her clothes.
"But you don't like the way I put them together."
"Fair enough. I don't always."
"And every morning you find something to say."
Fair enough.
So we made a deal. What Not to Wear, Tween Edition. For the rest of this week, there are rules for both of us:
Abby's Rules:
1. No short sleeves.
2. No tank tops, unless used as layering pieces, and no showing too much skin.
3. Do your hair every morning. Ponytail, headband, barrette, whatever. Do it.
4. Do not wear a tank top twice in a row, then wear it to dance class, then sleep in it.
5. Do not pull things out of the hamper to wear them.
Mom's Rules
1. No commenting on Abby's outfits in the morning (if Abby has followed the rules.)
2. Get Abby's laundry done today so she has lots to choose from.
3. I will not comment on choice of footwear.
Will this make for a smoother exit strategy? Who knows. But it's already made for a smoother evening.
I'll let you know how the first edition goes. . .
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
I'm a Straight, Non-Crafty Republican and I love Rosie Radio!
I have a total friend-crush on Rosie O'Donnell. Yep, it's true. Which is weird, because on paper, we probably wouldn't make a good couple. I'm a Republican, I'm straight, and I'm not too crafty. But I'm pretty sure that if she met me in person, she'd like me. In fact, I've thought this for many years. I remember watching her show with my baby in his bouncy seat, watching her crush all over Tom, watching her celebrate her birthday on television (on my anniversary) and thinking: it's serendipity. We're meant to be friends.
When Rosie's show started, my oldest son was little, maybe eighteen months. I think her son Parker is close to the same age, so the stories she would tell on her show would make me laugh or cry, and I would wait all morning for her show to air. It was a break in my day, and I loved it. It was feel-good television. The audience loved her, there were give-aways, surprises, celebrity crushes and Broadway! I missed it when it went away.
We moved, I had two more babies, and heard through the news bits and pieces about Rosie, but I had to think. . . if bits and pieces about me ever traveled through the grapevine about me, would they always be flattering? Would they always be true? Ick. No thank you. Either way, my day-to-day relationship with Rosie was over. Until. . . The View.
My mother had been trying to force me to watch the view for years, and I had resisted.
"You would love it," she would say.
"No I wouldn't." Was I thirteen again? Was I protesting and refusing just because I could?
"You would like the Hot Topics, Christy."
"Mom," I would tell her, "there is not one person on that show that I could possibly relate to."
"Meredith is a mom," she would say. "You would like her."
"She is a working mom who doesn't wear underwear," was my standard comeback. So I didn't watch.
Until Rosie came back. And then I watched every day. Sometimes I got mad or frustrated, even at Rosie because my opinions and hers can be very different, but you know what? That's what makes the world go around. Mostly I got mad at the tone of the show. But I watched until Rosie's last shocking day.
Because I am a Republican, albeit socially liberal, which is a hard position in which to find both balance and political candidates, people may assume I aligned with Elizabeth during my short View-watching period. Not true. While I did feel like she was occasionally beaten-up and talked-over, I also felt that for such a young woman with such a long life ahead of her, I wanted her to be able to be more flexible, more open-minded, less factual and more soulful. Not to change her beliefs, but to look up from the papers and into her heart. I might not agree with every one of my friends, but I can look into their eyes and really try to see. Listen to them. Talk with them. Learn from them.
So Rosie was gone again. And I stopped watching The View. What did I say I was looking for on that show? Someone I could relate to. And while Rosie might not have stood for everything I stood for, or believed in everything I believed in (but really, who can? or who should?) the important stuff was there: kids, family, love, real life, truth, humor. That, I believe. That, I relate to.
Then, like a Christmas miracle, arrived Rosie Radio on Sirius XM Satellite Radio! It's my new favorite thing. If I miss it in the morning (though I try to do my errands at the right time, because I never remember to turn on my online XM in the house) I can catch a replay in my car when I am taking Jono to baseball. I am reminded all over again about why I loved listening to her in my house all those years ago when Jono, now 15, was a baby. Her real stories, her real questions, the real love of her viewers/listeners. Her friends, the truck drivers, her children, the squirrels, the singing, the honesty.
Today she was talking to Janeane Garofalo. And I got worried. Yikes, I thought, "They would really not like me." But you know what? All opinions of Fox News Radio aside, I think they actually might.
Have a good day, everyone :) Stay warm, drive safely, eat something delicious (you know I did-- it's Tuesday!) xxoo ~Christy
When Rosie's show started, my oldest son was little, maybe eighteen months. I think her son Parker is close to the same age, so the stories she would tell on her show would make me laugh or cry, and I would wait all morning for her show to air. It was a break in my day, and I loved it. It was feel-good television. The audience loved her, there were give-aways, surprises, celebrity crushes and Broadway! I missed it when it went away.
We moved, I had two more babies, and heard through the news bits and pieces about Rosie, but I had to think. . . if bits and pieces about me ever traveled through the grapevine about me, would they always be flattering? Would they always be true? Ick. No thank you. Either way, my day-to-day relationship with Rosie was over. Until. . . The View.
My mother had been trying to force me to watch the view for years, and I had resisted.
"You would love it," she would say.
"No I wouldn't." Was I thirteen again? Was I protesting and refusing just because I could?
"You would like the Hot Topics, Christy."
"Mom," I would tell her, "there is not one person on that show that I could possibly relate to."
"Meredith is a mom," she would say. "You would like her."
"She is a working mom who doesn't wear underwear," was my standard comeback. So I didn't watch.
Until Rosie came back. And then I watched every day. Sometimes I got mad or frustrated, even at Rosie because my opinions and hers can be very different, but you know what? That's what makes the world go around. Mostly I got mad at the tone of the show. But I watched until Rosie's last shocking day.
Because I am a Republican, albeit socially liberal, which is a hard position in which to find both balance and political candidates, people may assume I aligned with Elizabeth during my short View-watching period. Not true. While I did feel like she was occasionally beaten-up and talked-over, I also felt that for such a young woman with such a long life ahead of her, I wanted her to be able to be more flexible, more open-minded, less factual and more soulful. Not to change her beliefs, but to look up from the papers and into her heart. I might not agree with every one of my friends, but I can look into their eyes and really try to see. Listen to them. Talk with them. Learn from them.
So Rosie was gone again. And I stopped watching The View. What did I say I was looking for on that show? Someone I could relate to. And while Rosie might not have stood for everything I stood for, or believed in everything I believed in (but really, who can? or who should?) the important stuff was there: kids, family, love, real life, truth, humor. That, I believe. That, I relate to.
Then, like a Christmas miracle, arrived Rosie Radio on Sirius XM Satellite Radio! It's my new favorite thing. If I miss it in the morning (though I try to do my errands at the right time, because I never remember to turn on my online XM in the house) I can catch a replay in my car when I am taking Jono to baseball. I am reminded all over again about why I loved listening to her in my house all those years ago when Jono, now 15, was a baby. Her real stories, her real questions, the real love of her viewers/listeners. Her friends, the truck drivers, her children, the squirrels, the singing, the honesty.
Today she was talking to Janeane Garofalo. And I got worried. Yikes, I thought, "They would really not like me." But you know what? All opinions of Fox News Radio aside, I think they actually might.
Have a good day, everyone :) Stay warm, drive safely, eat something delicious (you know I did-- it's Tuesday!) xxoo ~Christy
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Eating Disorder Tuesday
Please know that I mean no disrespect, and I mean NONE, to anyone who has suffered a real and true eating disorder. I have not suffered any such disorder, except for the fact that I tend, for the most part, to eat in a disorderly fashion.
But because it is January, and vacation season approaches, I am, of course, dieting. So from Wednesday through Monday, I am being perfectly perfect with my diet (within reason.) On Tuesdays, I wake, weigh myself, and then eat. It's not really crazy-weird-eating, but I might enjoy some fast food on a Tuesday, or a candy bar. Or both. And I have a diet Coke for sure, especially since I'm trying to avoid soda during the week. And this particular diet-season, I've lowered my calories and I've even kicked my work-outs up a notch by throwing in a hike (or two, or three) each week. Strangely, I even hiked this morning, on Eating Disorder Tuesday. In the history of my life, and I swear this on a box of Girl Scout Tagalongs, I have never worked out on a Tuesday, not since my very first Tuesday Weight Watcher's meeting in 1991. This is certainly a good omen that I'm meant to turn into a Suddenly Skinny Girl this year. Obviously. I mean, I'm hiking. On a Tuesday. WTF?
I also fell twice this morning when I was hiking, which could be because I didn't actually begin my actual food intake until after I walked (okay, okay, I ate two old donut holes and a Snickerdoodle) but not REAL food, so I think that perhaps I didn't actually fall, but more fainted twice from hunger. And, the whole trail was covered in solid ice, but since I'm normally Christy Tall and Full of Grace, I blame hunger.
I will post a picture of the bruise and bump on my left knee. It is the size of Rhode Island.
After a hot shower (during which I swear my ass and thighs were STILL cold from the hike) I enjoyed a lovely lunch with some friends at Aladdins, a middle-eastern restaurant. A girl can eat healthy there, which I did. When we parted ways, I had a few errands to run-- bank, drug store, grocery. And then I found myself wondering, what was going on with me Chicken in a pita? Hiking? It's Eating Disorder Tuesday, and I'm ahead of the game. I rock. I'm freakin' hungry.
I finished my errands and drove directly to the McDonald's drive through. Just for some fries. Just a treat for the afternoon. I have two hours until the chickens come home from school, two hours to cuddle on my couch for a marathon of my Tivo. I have Hoarders, Idol, Intervention, and Days of our Lives. It's snowing. I've hiked. I have some french fries to fulfill the mandate of Eating Disorder Tuesday.
And so, my friends, that is where this story ends. Me, in velour pants and red flannel slippers, remote, fries and diet Coke. Pure bliss.
Hey, don't judge me. I don't make the Eating Disorder Tuesday rules. Oh, wait. . .
Friday, January 22, 2010
The Spy in my House
There's a spy in my house. She reads emails, texts, Facebook posts, notes, journals, and diaries. She listens at doors, eavesdrops on phone conversations and pries without shame into the private lives of those living here. She know passwords to accounts, pushes open doors, and listens while others are talking to friends.
Oh, I'm good.
Which is how I have uncovered the fact that my daughter is writing about me in her journal. Things like, "I think my mom and dad are doing it right now. Ew." WHAAAAAAATTTT? But this is not the worst thing I have found. No, readers, the excellent spy has apparently been duped.
This Christmas, I finally allowed Abby to read the Twilight series, after two years of her begging and pleading. We borrowed the first book for her to read, and then someone gave her the second two books as a gift. I then actually bought her the whole darn box set of four books that came complete with some bonus material, so she actually had some of the crazy books twice. I was mother of the year. She couldn't stop reading. She was thanking me, kissing me, loving me. I was a hero.
Then this, from the diary that Super Mother Spy found yesterday. Note the date.
February 2, 2009: "I'm reading the most fantastic book. Breaking Dawn." The entry went on to describe in detail about Bella's pregnancy, the late period, the romance, and how Abby's friend had let her borrow the book in school, and was bringing her the next one soon. She wished she "didn't have to sneak them, but my mom wouldn't let her read them."
So she has now owned them twice, and read them. . .um. . THREE TIMES??? And she was faking her excitement when she read them AGAIN in December of 2009???? No wonder she got the lead in her school play.
I turned to my mom, master of handling tween and teen girls. She told me to pick my battles, and to wait on this one. Plus, she said, if I did let Abby know that I knew, and more importantly HOW I knew, then I would lose my power to know if she really wrote something important, something that I really might need to know.
I don't read her journals every day. But occasionally, I peek. I have to say it hurt my feelings, but I'm letting it go. It was a book, after all. Not a huge transgression. A lie? Yes. But life threatening? No.
I will buy her another box set of the books to present to her at her wedding rehearsal dinner, as a little gifts. Oh, and to let her husband know what he has in store. . .
Oh, I'm good.
Which is how I have uncovered the fact that my daughter is writing about me in her journal. Things like, "I think my mom and dad are doing it right now. Ew." WHAAAAAAATTTT? But this is not the worst thing I have found. No, readers, the excellent spy has apparently been duped.
This Christmas, I finally allowed Abby to read the Twilight series, after two years of her begging and pleading. We borrowed the first book for her to read, and then someone gave her the second two books as a gift. I then actually bought her the whole darn box set of four books that came complete with some bonus material, so she actually had some of the crazy books twice. I was mother of the year. She couldn't stop reading. She was thanking me, kissing me, loving me. I was a hero.
Then this, from the diary that Super Mother Spy found yesterday. Note the date.
February 2, 2009: "I'm reading the most fantastic book. Breaking Dawn." The entry went on to describe in detail about Bella's pregnancy, the late period, the romance, and how Abby's friend had let her borrow the book in school, and was bringing her the next one soon. She wished she "didn't have to sneak them, but my mom wouldn't let her read them."
So she has now owned them twice, and read them. . .um. . THREE TIMES??? And she was faking her excitement when she read them AGAIN in December of 2009???? No wonder she got the lead in her school play.
I turned to my mom, master of handling tween and teen girls. She told me to pick my battles, and to wait on this one. Plus, she said, if I did let Abby know that I knew, and more importantly HOW I knew, then I would lose my power to know if she really wrote something important, something that I really might need to know.
I don't read her journals every day. But occasionally, I peek. I have to say it hurt my feelings, but I'm letting it go. It was a book, after all. Not a huge transgression. A lie? Yes. But life threatening? No.
I will buy her another box set of the books to present to her at her wedding rehearsal dinner, as a little gifts. Oh, and to let her husband know what he has in store. . .
Monday, December 14, 2009
Unforgettable
Let me just paint you a picture. Plaid pajama pants. Summer plaid, not winter. Black furry boots. An old grey thermal shirt, bed hair, no make up. You may imagine a bra if you like, but there's not one in sight, so the picture just gets better and better. Throw on a very old fuzzy coat to go outside and rescue the porch pot that I decorated from the garden, where it fell, add in the crabapple juice that dripped all over me, and I think you'll have an accurate picture of how I look right now. Oh, wait. There is a strip of black duct tape stuck to the side of my coat, because I also had to fix the artificial tree on the screened-in porch, the tree that broke in half on day ONE of it's existence (thank you, 61-mph winds) and did not seem to withstand my first mend-attempt of thin floral wire and bending the branches around the broken trunk. I'm sure duct tape will be MUCH better.
So that's how I look this morning, a Christmas vision, but I have to say, it's been the most Christmas-y I've felt all season. I have a list of things to do today, but they're all pretty fun. We baked yesterday, so I'll have fudge for breakfast. Cards are arriving, which I LOVE, and the house looks very festive.
It was in my kitchen today, that I first really felt that Christmas was here. My IHome was blaring (really, really blaring) while I was coming in from the aforementioned tree debacle, and one of my grandmother's Christmas songs happened to be playing. I stopped, I stood in all of my loveliness, and we sang together in the kitchen. It was rather like when Natalie Cole sang "Unforgettable" with her dad, except that I looked horrendous, and my grandmother outsings me by a country mile, and there was no TV covereage. When I listened to the words of that song, "Christmas is a Birthday Time," I felt totally and completely in the season. I always think how nice it is for my mom that she gets to hear her mom sing, anytime she wants. Isn't technology fantastic? And if my grandmother were here, I think she might look at me in my drippy boots, my ridiculous shirt, my messy hair and say, "Darling, you look beautiful."
Many of my friends now share the wonder of these tunes with me. In fact, just the other day, the other BEST day, Lisa got the news that she had kicked cancer's ass FOR GOOD while she was listening to my grandmother sing in her house. Angels everywhere.
I'm lucky that I can press a button and hear her voice. But if there's someone that you miss, just stop in your kitchen and say hello. It will put you in the spirit for sure.
(below: a picture of my grandmother, Ruby Wright, singing in my grandfather's band, Barney Rapp and his New Englanders.)
So that's how I look this morning, a Christmas vision, but I have to say, it's been the most Christmas-y I've felt all season. I have a list of things to do today, but they're all pretty fun. We baked yesterday, so I'll have fudge for breakfast. Cards are arriving, which I LOVE, and the house looks very festive.
It was in my kitchen today, that I first really felt that Christmas was here. My IHome was blaring (really, really blaring) while I was coming in from the aforementioned tree debacle, and one of my grandmother's Christmas songs happened to be playing. I stopped, I stood in all of my loveliness, and we sang together in the kitchen. It was rather like when Natalie Cole sang "Unforgettable" with her dad, except that I looked horrendous, and my grandmother outsings me by a country mile, and there was no TV covereage. When I listened to the words of that song, "Christmas is a Birthday Time," I felt totally and completely in the season. I always think how nice it is for my mom that she gets to hear her mom sing, anytime she wants. Isn't technology fantastic? And if my grandmother were here, I think she might look at me in my drippy boots, my ridiculous shirt, my messy hair and say, "Darling, you look beautiful."
Many of my friends now share the wonder of these tunes with me. In fact, just the other day, the other BEST day, Lisa got the news that she had kicked cancer's ass FOR GOOD while she was listening to my grandmother sing in her house. Angels everywhere.
I'm lucky that I can press a button and hear her voice. But if there's someone that you miss, just stop in your kitchen and say hello. It will put you in the spirit for sure.
(below: a picture of my grandmother, Ruby Wright, singing in my grandfather's band, Barney Rapp and his New Englanders.)
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Thanksgiving Top-Ten
Dear Friends,
I love Thanksgving. I love the drive to my parents' home, the full house of family, the cooking, the smells, the sleeping-late, hanging out with my sibs, and the parades. It's easy for me to get a little overwhelmed (read: crazy and overtired) this week as I prepare for the holiday, how about you? Let's all take a deep breath, and take a few minutes to remember those things we are grateful for, big and little. Here are mine:
Christy's Top Ten Reasons to Be Grateful, 2009
10. I am grateful that my car battery died. It died in my garage, yesterday morning, when I had very little to do. The wonderful man from AAA came and replaced it for me right at my house. I am exceedingly grateful that I wasn't at a McDonald's in Columbus on the way to Cincinnati for Thanksgiving, or driving somewhere late at night. Did I want to buy a new battery yesterday? No. But am I grateful to have one? Yes.
9. I am grateful that I have been given a writing challenge this November. To those of you who have come across me when I am babbling and drooling, I apologize. It's almost over.
8. So thankful for the abundance in my life that is present in both little and big ways. This Thanksgiving, there will be no need to rent movies; we can watch "old"ones from our own collection. I observed the kids sharing their collection of video games for the upcoming car trip so that they would each have "new" stuff to play with. Without breaking my neck (or the bank) shopping, there were plenty of clothes, more than enough food, and even a few treats to throw in for the road-trip to Cincinnati. Less really can be more.
7. Speaking of the road trip, I am always grateful for those four hours in the car. This year, I feel like the kids are stretched to their little limits, I've been packing (and writing) and Adam's been traveling. When we all finally settle in, claim our small personal space, and hit the road, we are a happy family capsule traveling south on I-71. I like having my people all in one place. We can talk, we can sing, we can laugh. It's a good start to the long weekend. And I usually eat a cheeseburger at some point. (I also look forward to napping for a good bit of the drive, while Adam drives us safely to Cincinnati. Sometimes I am asleep before we leave Hudson.)
6. I am grateful for our parents. For my mom and dad who are currently preparing for the onslaught of . . . us. They're about to get hit from both sides with children and grandchildren. Brace yourself, Grandma and Pop! Hide the remotes, get the game table ready, don't carve the turkey without Abby, and prepare for the Thanksgiving madness. For Adam's parents, who come in a pinch and steal the kids for overnights, it is a true blessing to have you nearby. (Although, you are currently in South Carolina, which makes me less grateful and more jealous.)
4. This year, I am thankful for this gorgeous weather we've been having. Even as it starts to look a little damp and gloomy out there, I can't imagine how we got so lucky with all of those warm, sunny days. It has kept my spirit lifted, and made the days fly by! (Which is not a good thing, as I count the shopping days left until Christmas. Yikes!)
3. I have the world's most excellent friends. Near and far. You support me and lift me up on a daily basis in so many ways and I adore you. Grateful does not even begin to touch it. (Brothers and Sistas, include yourselves here, please :)
2. My friend Lisa is healthy. Thankful. Thankful. Thankful.
1. I'm more than grateful for my crazy, happy, healthy, normal, silly, wonderful, surprise-me-everyday kids and husband. Adam, Jono, Abby and Sam. . . you are the joys of my life, and I adore you, you turkeys.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Have a safe and wonderful holiday surrounded by your family and friends, and please know that I count you among my many, many blessings!
love,
christy
I love Thanksgving. I love the drive to my parents' home, the full house of family, the cooking, the smells, the sleeping-late, hanging out with my sibs, and the parades. It's easy for me to get a little overwhelmed (read: crazy and overtired) this week as I prepare for the holiday, how about you? Let's all take a deep breath, and take a few minutes to remember those things we are grateful for, big and little. Here are mine:
Christy's Top Ten Reasons to Be Grateful, 2009
10. I am grateful that my car battery died. It died in my garage, yesterday morning, when I had very little to do. The wonderful man from AAA came and replaced it for me right at my house. I am exceedingly grateful that I wasn't at a McDonald's in Columbus on the way to Cincinnati for Thanksgiving, or driving somewhere late at night. Did I want to buy a new battery yesterday? No. But am I grateful to have one? Yes.
9. I am grateful that I have been given a writing challenge this November. To those of you who have come across me when I am babbling and drooling, I apologize. It's almost over.
8. So thankful for the abundance in my life that is present in both little and big ways. This Thanksgiving, there will be no need to rent movies; we can watch "old"ones from our own collection. I observed the kids sharing their collection of video games for the upcoming car trip so that they would each have "new" stuff to play with. Without breaking my neck (or the bank) shopping, there were plenty of clothes, more than enough food, and even a few treats to throw in for the road-trip to Cincinnati. Less really can be more.
7. Speaking of the road trip, I am always grateful for those four hours in the car. This year, I feel like the kids are stretched to their little limits, I've been packing (and writing) and Adam's been traveling. When we all finally settle in, claim our small personal space, and hit the road, we are a happy family capsule traveling south on I-71. I like having my people all in one place. We can talk, we can sing, we can laugh. It's a good start to the long weekend. And I usually eat a cheeseburger at some point. (I also look forward to napping for a good bit of the drive, while Adam drives us safely to Cincinnati. Sometimes I am asleep before we leave Hudson.)
6. I am grateful for our parents. For my mom and dad who are currently preparing for the onslaught of . . . us. They're about to get hit from both sides with children and grandchildren. Brace yourself, Grandma and Pop! Hide the remotes, get the game table ready, don't carve the turkey without Abby, and prepare for the Thanksgiving madness. For Adam's parents, who come in a pinch and steal the kids for overnights, it is a true blessing to have you nearby. (Although, you are currently in South Carolina, which makes me less grateful and more jealous.)
4. This year, I am thankful for this gorgeous weather we've been having. Even as it starts to look a little damp and gloomy out there, I can't imagine how we got so lucky with all of those warm, sunny days. It has kept my spirit lifted, and made the days fly by! (Which is not a good thing, as I count the shopping days left until Christmas. Yikes!)
3. I have the world's most excellent friends. Near and far. You support me and lift me up on a daily basis in so many ways and I adore you. Grateful does not even begin to touch it. (Brothers and Sistas, include yourselves here, please :)
2. My friend Lisa is healthy. Thankful. Thankful. Thankful.
1. I'm more than grateful for my crazy, happy, healthy, normal, silly, wonderful, surprise-me-everyday kids and husband. Adam, Jono, Abby and Sam. . . you are the joys of my life, and I adore you, you turkeys.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! Have a safe and wonderful holiday surrounded by your family and friends, and please know that I count you among my many, many blessings!
love,
christy
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Words, Words, Words. . .
I'm so excited to go to the H1N1 clinic today! Okay, I'm really not. I'm just trying to put my heart into the goal of the afternoon. Flu shots. Whoopee!
Hey, are you one of my writing friends? Next year, you need to join me on NaNoWriMo (www.nanowrimo.org) if I've recovered by then. National Novel Writing Month has consumed me, overtaken me, and has the potential to completely kick my ass, but I'm moving forward, word by word. Today's count, 30,014. The challenge is to write 50,000 words by November 30th. Just write. Don't edit, don't re-read. Do these people not realize that there is a Thanksgiving holiday coming up? How can I work in my 1600-2000 words a day when there is sleep to be slept, birds to be carved, movies to be seen, parades to be viewed? I'm desperately trying to "UP" my word count so that I have some sort of Thanksgiving cushion, or else please come find me on the Monday following Thanksgiving at the Hudson Library. I will be the one in a sobbing heap on the floor, trying to find a way to write the last 10,000 words before mindnight! Bring diet Mountain Dew.
On days when I find myself behind in my writing, I tend to set up my days with bursts of writing, and small breaks. Write a thousand words, take a break. Repeat. Four or five times. The other day, my breaks were things like, "do laundry" and "pay bills." By the time I was finished with five cycles of writing, I was craving air and a new vantage point, but I was well ahead of the game, and had gotten lots done in my house as well. Can I keep it up? We'll see. I might need to work in better breaks, like "go shopping," "take a walk" or "do a shot." Just kidding. Kind of.
Yesterday, I was sick, and wrote over 5,000 words. Or, at least, I think I did. There was lots of DayQuil involved, so come December re-writes, I might find pages and pages of complete nonsense. Or brilliance.
A very cool thing happened on my other blog. (If you only read this blog, don't feel like I am cheating on you. Come and read: http://blog.hudsonucc.org ) Anyway, I was quoting a book that I am currently reading and very much enjoying, The Wednesday Sisters by Meg Waite Clayton, and guess what? Meg Waite Clayton herself commented on my blog! It was very lovely and unexpected. And in this month of NaNoWriMo, it was nice to get a boost like that.
Remind me, please, when I am a published author, to turn around and do the same for someone like me.
Hey, are you one of my writing friends? Next year, you need to join me on NaNoWriMo (www.nanowrimo.org) if I've recovered by then. National Novel Writing Month has consumed me, overtaken me, and has the potential to completely kick my ass, but I'm moving forward, word by word. Today's count, 30,014. The challenge is to write 50,000 words by November 30th. Just write. Don't edit, don't re-read. Do these people not realize that there is a Thanksgiving holiday coming up? How can I work in my 1600-2000 words a day when there is sleep to be slept, birds to be carved, movies to be seen, parades to be viewed? I'm desperately trying to "UP" my word count so that I have some sort of Thanksgiving cushion, or else please come find me on the Monday following Thanksgiving at the Hudson Library. I will be the one in a sobbing heap on the floor, trying to find a way to write the last 10,000 words before mindnight! Bring diet Mountain Dew.
On days when I find myself behind in my writing, I tend to set up my days with bursts of writing, and small breaks. Write a thousand words, take a break. Repeat. Four or five times. The other day, my breaks were things like, "do laundry" and "pay bills." By the time I was finished with five cycles of writing, I was craving air and a new vantage point, but I was well ahead of the game, and had gotten lots done in my house as well. Can I keep it up? We'll see. I might need to work in better breaks, like "go shopping," "take a walk" or "do a shot." Just kidding. Kind of.
Yesterday, I was sick, and wrote over 5,000 words. Or, at least, I think I did. There was lots of DayQuil involved, so come December re-writes, I might find pages and pages of complete nonsense. Or brilliance.
A very cool thing happened on my other blog. (If you only read this blog, don't feel like I am cheating on you. Come and read: http://blog.hudsonucc.org ) Anyway, I was quoting a book that I am currently reading and very much enjoying, The Wednesday Sisters by Meg Waite Clayton, and guess what? Meg Waite Clayton herself commented on my blog! It was very lovely and unexpected. And in this month of NaNoWriMo, it was nice to get a boost like that.
Remind me, please, when I am a published author, to turn around and do the same for someone like me.
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