Aww . . .Shucks Folks! I’m Speechless!

Yesterday I was surprised to find that I had been nominated for an award! I am now the recipient of “the versatile blogger” award! To mark this momentous occasion, I decided to take my little peep to the dinosaur park so that she can run and play while I write my “Aww . . . shucks!” blog .

Of course, being that this award is a not so subtle attempt to promote not only my blog, but the blogoshere, there are a list of rules that we are supposed to follow when we accept this award. First off, here is a shout out to jeandayfriday for nominating me! I’m glad you stumbled on my little corner of the blogging world and decided that you liked what you saw. Thank you!

The next step in accepting this award is to share seven things about myself. So, here goes nothing:

1. My favorite fact about myself is that I have been to sixteen different countries, though oddly enough our neighbors Canada and Mexico are not on that list. My favorite place is Italy. It really is everything it is cracked up to be. It is beautiful, full of history and art, the people are great, the food is wonderful, and the climate is heavenly. I would move there at a moment’s notice if I had the chance.

2. I spent the first twenty years of my life proclaiming that I had no artistic ability, only to find out one day, when I actually tried to draw something, that I am quite good. According to an artist friend of mine, I am actually good enough to make my living at it if I put a little training behind my raw talent. Lesson here, don’t assume you can’t do something if you haven’t even tried!

3. I have very large hands and feet. My feet are, in fact, so large, that when my sandals broke while I was in Bangladesh, I became the laughingstock of the local shoe store. They took one look at these monsters and started laughing, much to my chagrin. The biggest pair of men’s shoes they had on the floor were too small. They had to go up to the attic and dig up the largest pair that they didn’t even bother keeping on the floor since no one had feet that big. Yep. Way to help a girl’s ego there! In my defense the average man there is about 5’6” so I was like a giant in the land of Lilliput, but still . . .

My hands also have a story. In college, a guy decided they would make a great pick up line. Seriously. He declared that just like Jerry Seinfeld’s women, I was absolutely perfect but for one oddity, my large hands. Thus, he had nicknamed me, a huge compliment in his opinion since he was a HUGE fan of Seinfeld, “Manhands.” And then he followed that announcement up by asking me out. Needless to say, I laughed in his face. You don’t win a girl over with a nickname like “Manhands!” I thought that one should have been pretty self-apparent! Maybe it’s just me. If that would have won you over, let me know. I’d really be curious to know if that would work on anybody??

4. In this world where a person is lucky to have one truly amazing, forever, “I would do anything in the world for you” sort of friend, I have been blessed with two.  Chris and Christa, you guys are AMAZING! I am so lucky to have you in my life!!

5. When I was in Bangladesh, I almost became the focal point for a mob riot. Seriously. It was a religious holiday and one of the large group of men who had been at the local mosque for said holiday spotted me, pointed me out to the men around him, and I was suddenly the target for hundreds of large rocks that were hurled at me. Lucky for me, I happened to have an especially savvy rickshawala that day. He high tailed me out of there lickety split so I didn’t become the newest martyr for the church. All because I have blond hair and obviously must be from the “Great Satan” (which is how they refer to the US). That is not an experience I will ever forget!

Let me tell you! You just haven’t lived until you have almost been stoned to death by a mob of angry muslims! After that, no wonder I find the normal American life so bland and boring most of the time!

6. My nicknames in Junior High were Barbie and Amazon Woman. (Both of which I hated!) I grew eight inches in one year and towered over all the boys all through middle school. Which of course also meant that when all the other girls were experimenting with their first boyfriends, I sat at home listening to Debbie Gibson and feeling sorry for myself. Gotta love adolescence!

7. I had zero fashion sense until I was a sophomore in college. I pretty much dressed like an old lady. It was so bad that I didn’t even know that anybody other than Hanes made underwear. Fancy underwear were not even on my radar ( no wonder I didn’t get asked out on a date until that year!). Victoria’s Secret? What was that? It took my best college buddy, the before mentioned Chris, introducing me to the store and insisting that I buy some to pull me into the modern fashion world. Now I fancy myself quite the fashion guru and only wish I’d come into the know when I had the figure to go with the styles!

Now for the second part of accepting my prestigious award! (Can’t you hear a Christmas Story in your head right now? )

I am supposed to link my fifteen favorite blogs for you to go check out. They are to be the new recipients of the Versatile Blogger Award. I’m a bit sheepish here. I have to admit, as a busy stay at home mom who has to clean her own house (unlike most of my friends) and who has to cook (most of my friends just order carry out) and who does not have her child in a Mother’s Day Out program (again, like most of my friends do), not to mention that I am attempting to finish my book and launch my writing career, well, let’s just say that that does not leave a lot of time to follow blogs. I have been making more of an effort lately, but the list grows slowly so I will do my best and put my favorites here for you to check out, though whether or not there are fifteen . . . well . . .

In an attempt to truly pick fifteen worthy bloggers, I am going to spend some time tonight really looking at the bloggers I have connected with and maybe some new ones that I will discover shortly and put together a diverse and worthy list. Check back tomorrow for those that I’ve chosen! I know it’s technically not supposed to be done that way, but, well . . . I never have been a conformist!

Do You Have to Follow Me to the Bathroom? Seriously?!?

There are many things that are difficult about being a parent. There are so many changes and adjustments that you need to make seemingly on an ongoing basis. Nothing is ever constant, except for change. It would be hard to pick the hardest thing about parenting. There are simply too many challenges to choose just one!

However, one of the things that I think has to be right up there somewhere at the top of the list is that you never get any time alone. Barely a minute goes by without an interruption. If I go to the bathroom, someone follows me. If I’m in the shower, inevitably someone is pulling the shower curtain back with some question, complaint or need that simply can’t wait for me to be done with my shower. When I’m changing, I get walked in on, usually multiple times. When I yell at them to wait because I’m changing, they walk in, sit on my bed and proceed with whatever it is that they needed right at that very moment. Nothing is off limits for a mother!

The constant interruptions, bickering, referring, and urgent needs leave me feeling frazzled and make it difficult for my brain to function like a normal person’s. I never felt like I had ADD until I had kids. It’s as if they have changed my very biology! Now, even on the rare occasions that I am child free, I find that my brain simply can’t function, it can’t focus. It’s jumping around in the pattern that has become its normal since these three little blessings showed up on the scene.

I am by nature a quiet person. I have always loved time alone.  I was just as likely to stay in and read all day when I had a free Saturday as I was to go hang out with my friends. I am stuck somewhere in the middle between an introvert and extrovert. The only problem is, being a mother doesn’t really allow you to be an introvert. Unlike when I was younger, I cannot just choose not to be around people for a day or two when I’m feeling that introvert inside of me fighting for the surface.

As a result, every day I find myself looking forward to the couple of hours a day I get to myself when my little Lily goes down for her nap. And every day I struggle with how I should spend that time.

I very rarely waste those precious minutes on a nap.  As heavenly as a nap would be, I don’t want to squander that precious time. There is just not enough of it to waste it on a nap!

I usually wrestle between three options, cleaning (the most boring one, but I can get three times as much done in the same amount of time without constant interruptions), doing my work out (a strange option I suppose, but I am so sick of the kids sitting there and watching me while I work out. It’s like I’m a monkey at the zoo or something. You’d think that the novelty would wear off at some time, but so far . . . not so much!) or writing. It is such a treat to be able to write without the sound of PBS in the background (for example, right now I get to hear the rundown of dinosaur train) and without the constant stream of needs and complaints (suspiciously absent right now . . . I’d better go and check what the little imp has snuck off to! Sure enough, she’d gotten into her brother’s box of markers. Sigh . . .)!

Some of my mom friends have the opposite problem. It’s not the alone time they are so desperately craving, but instead the active social life they need. Whichever end you land on, the point is that being a parent means a whole lot less time to spend on doing the things that we need, the things that make us tick and a whole lot more time going to parks, play areas and zoos.

As great as it is to spend time with our children, I believe that we need to fight for a balance. The truth is, when I am not getting the “me time” I need, I get cranky, dissatisfied and I enter a general funk where I cannot enjoy my children in the way I want to. When I find ways (sometimes with much effort and creativity) to carve out some time for me, I am not only a better person, but also a better mother.

Finding that balance is a daily effort. I am an artist and musician as well as a writer, yet I can’t tell you the last time I picked up my charcoals or sat down to play on the piano. I certainly have not figured this all out. But I am trying, and I will keep trying.

Every few months I find that I need to pull away for a few days. I ignore the house and the list of petty tasks that I always need to do and instead I retreat to a “me” place. I get my balance back. The housework will always be there. A few days won’t hurt anybody. And I get my equilibrium back.

It does not make me a bad mother. It does not make me a bad wife. It makes me a real life woman, admittedly like all the other struggling parents out there trying to find a place for self in the midst of all the clamoring needs around them.

Being a mother is the best thing I have ever done, but I don’t want to lose myself in the process. That wouldn’t be the best for anyone.

Remember that when you feel guilty for leaving that sink full of dishes to make a little time for yourself! Everyone will be happier with a happier mom or dad! They really could care less about the dishes!

 

Life is in the Risking . . . Success and Failures Alike

All day long I having been mulling over the words of a book I’m reading:

Doubt, despair and disappointment are not only a reality of daily life, they are also the tools God uses to grow faith, hope, and love in us. If we run from what we fear or find displeasureable, we actually rob ourselves of the joy God intends for us to experience as we walk through our past, play with our future, and live now with new passion. (Dan B. Allender, “The Healing Path”)

This quote is so reminiscent of the belief I held as a young adult. I believed that real life was lived not in the comfortable middle ground of existence, but by embracing the extremes of life. I believed that the fullness of happiness, love and joy could only be experienced if you had also suffered great loss. That was what living really meant.

Living was not being safe and secure. That was to exist. To live was something infinitely more. And I wanted that “more.”

I have tested this belief to its core. Though it sounds great in theory, its application is so incredibly painful and difficult.

The little adage, “Be carfeul what you wish for” is aptly displayed in my life. We have known devastation in the loss of our daughter. We have known suffering in a multitude of ways that I will not go into. We have struggled with doubt and despair as the long road of suffering seemed to stretch on and on with no relief. The lure of safety and security was never stronger than in the last couple of years. And to give up, well, it has been a temptation.

And yet, I find the stirrings of something deep inside of me: a resonance with the quote above.  Maybe, just maybe, I was onto something that I did not fully understand back then. Maybe, if I can embrace all the difficulty, I will find that the reward is everything I once believed it to be.

Difficulty, disappointment and even devastation are a part of life for everyone at one time or another. We tend to fight it. We avoid it when possible, and we run like hell to escape it when we can’t.

I certainly do not think we should go out looking for it. I am no masochist, but, maybe, to experience the fullness of life we really do need to open ourselves. Sometimes that embracing of life brings the incredible, such as falling in love. Other times it brings the pain, like the broken heart you are left with when someone leaves.

But truly, we can never know those highs without opening ourselves to the risk of experiencing the lows.

Years ago I had a poem published that talks about this very thing. I have lived this poem in the fifteen years since I wrote it. Time and again I had my heart and my hopes dashed and it has been an effort of will to keep my heart open despite the losses I have been faced with. Sometimes I have succeeded, other times I have closed myself off to the possibility of what might have been possible because the risk left me too fearful.

Lately, I have found myself at a similar crossroads. I find old poem is inspiring me once more today.I can give in when faced with all the defeats I have encountered or I can try, one more time and one more after that.

I hope this poem might encourage you as it encourages me. It is titled “RISK.”

Would life call me Fool

or merely brave,

this soul that alights to the

spires of hope?

Is it folly to chance,

and so to perish,

with Risk’s failed attempt to fly?

The lofty heights of love’s aspiration

call braver souls than I,

yet, I and not they,

from the mountain’s height plunge

in the hope that love,

as a sweet breath of wind,

will catch these wings

and so lift me to the spheres of fabled love.

 

And yet, not once, nor even twice,

have I plunged to the rocky crags below.

The wind has failed,

these wings have faltered

and I have landed far below.

There I’ve labored for a time

resting the wounds of battered dreams,

entrenched in pain and mournful disillusionment,

so sure these wings were beyond repair.

 

Yet time . . . it heals,

and Hope, though bruised

does not perish.

It is an immortal friend.

Pain dimmed, failure forgotten,

I rise to Hope again.

 

Failed attempts do not hinder

the soul determined to fly.

No matter the number of failures,

Love’s Fool abandons itself  once more,

and those moments of flight

far outshine the gloom

of our sometimes reality.

 

Oh! The hope that I might fly,

not for a moment,

but for a life,

calls this soul to the fearful friend Risk.

Hope outweighs wisdom’s fear,

and I abandon myself once more.

 

So, am I Fool, so to plunge

in the hope of a beautiful dream?

Perhaps, yes, perhaps it’s so .  .  .

yet I would rather be Love’s Fool

than be Fear’s forever slave.

For one of these times,

the wind may lift Hope’s wings

and perhaps, just perhaps,

I will fly.

 

And if not, the heights of Hope

hold far more luster for me

than the safety of earthbound

Practicality.

 

So, fool though I be,

I abandon myself once more,

for Risk is worth the prize.

If only, one day,

I might fly.

I pray that I never stop risking, that I never settle for the safe and secure, and that I always push the limits to find what might be!

A Walk Down Memory Lane– Don’t Mind the Pitfalls!

In honor of Valentine’s Day, I thought I would take a walk down memory lane.  All the way back to December  15, 1999. Over twelve years ago now! So hard to believe.

That is the day before I married my best friend, Aaron Graham. It was also a day that was a comedy of errors as was the wedding day itself.  Everything that could go wrong, did, and yet, despite that, it was the second happiest day of my life (the only day that was happier was when my beautiful little Serena was born).

The problems started a couple of days before the wedding. I went to the mansion on Summit Avenue in St. Paul, MN where we were getting married to finish up the decorating details. As I was talking through the details with the lady in charge, the bottom started to fall out. “Oh, you can’t do that! That’s not allowed!” seemed to be her phrase of the day. All my decorating plans got chucked out the window two days before my wedding! Even bigger problem, my budget was pretty much spent. I had less than a hundred dollars left. Not only was I going to have to punt, I was going to have to do it on almost nothing! I panicked!

My mother-in-law to be went to Michaels with me and we pieced together a decorating plan with the little bit of money I had left. It wasn’t what I wanted, but, it was something. Crisis averted.

The day before my wedding dawned and I was all alone. My family wasn’t going to be there until later in the day. I’m not sure where my best friends were. Being that my fiancé and I were doing the traditional waiting until marriage, he wasn’t around either. I was feeling a bit glum. I remember staring out the window thinking that other people were surrounded by crowds of people the day before they got married. It was a bit of a pity party.

When my mother did finally arrive, the wedding stuff was to begin. The first order of business was a massage appointment that I had set up months in advance. I had been looking forward to this for the longest time. What better way to relax than a massage?

The only problem was, they had lost the appointment and couldn’t fit me in. Hell no! You don’t mess with a bride the day before her wedding! I don’t THINK so!

I proceeded to throw the only temper tantrum of my adult life. Yep, right there in front of God and everybody. I might not have thrown myself down on the ground kicking and screaming, but you just don’t mess with a bride right before her wedding! The claws came out!

They offered me a facial instead.

Did they think I was stupid?!? Everyone knows you don’t get a facial right before an important day because it could cause you to break out! Seriously! Don’t mess with this bride right before her wedding!

Well, I don’t remember what I said or did (probably a good thing I’m thinking) but, needless to say, I got that massage darn it!

Shortly after that we had the dress rehearsal. We had a very small window of time to work with.  It was less than an hour, and if memory serves me right it was significantly less than an hour. Almost everyone showed up late. Seriously. We had a ten to fifteen minute run through when everyone got there which meant that nobody really had a clue of what they were doing which of course, was going to have major ramifications the next day!

Make sure you check out part two in a couple of days to hear about when the bottom really fell out!

Warning!! Facebook can be Lethal When Having a Bad Day . . . Month . . . Year!! :S Proceed with Caution!

So, I was having one of those crappy weeks. You know the kind I mean. The “Can this week possibly get any worse?” bottom of the barrel kind of weeks. I typically have two lines of defense against such days. I either shop (which was not an option) or I escape, typically through a great book, though last month the Vampire Diaries and the steamy Ian Somerhalder (the Damon character  who I have unintentionally developed a bit of a crush on) did remarkably well. Having finished my latest great escapism read and having burned through the first 2 seasons of Vampire Diaries, I was left with a conundrum.  What in the world could I do to distract me from the reality of my life, at least for a little while . . . ? Hmmm  . . . .

Not having any great epiphanies, I thought I’d burn a little time on Facebook which I have pretty much ignored for the last several months. Not a good idea when you are struggling with inner angst over the state of your life! The games were a fine distraction, but looking through the window into some old friends or acquaintances seemingly perfect lives . . . VERY. BAD. IDEA!

I happened to stumble upon someone I used to know in college. She wasn’t really a friend of mine. I knew of her and one of my friends was her friend so I thought I’d just take a peak and see what she was up to these days. Wow. Did my day go from bad to worse!

I mean, Aimee was pretty and talented and popular in college and though I expected her to be successful, I guess I didn’t expect what I found. My life that had simply seemed a bit dingy around the edges all of a sudden felt like a down right nightmare!

She looked GORGEOUS! I don’t mean,” great for her age and for having a couple of kids” kind of gorgeous. Oh, no! I mean cover model,” how can you look like that and have had children” kind of gorgeous. All of a sudden the fifty or so stubborn pounds that have persistently refused to go away since I had my four children seemed all the more noticeable and I felt more like a frumpy house wife than ever before!

Wow! How can I ever go out in public again looking like this? Geesh!

And then, as I continued to torment myself by looking further into her charmed life, I found that, not only is she incredibly beautiful, but she is also extremely successful, a kind of mini celebrity. So, not only am I the somewhat too squishy, used to be pretty Mom, now I am the consummate under achiever! Great.  Just what I needed!

She has style. She has class. She is beautiful and doing very well financially. She is living her dream. Don’t get me wrong. I’m really happy for her. I’m not jealous. Okay, so maybe I am, but who wouldn’t be? I mean, seriously?!  It puts my life in stark contrast and well, it is impossible not to find my life wanting. Very much wanting. . . Sigh.

Well, I guess I learned a lesson. When you’re already feeling like crap, do not stumble on the Facebook page of the most successful person you used to know! Stick with the Vampire Diaries! Who cares if you are re-watching an episode you watched only a couple of weeks ago! Or better yet, forget the diet and dig into that secret stash of chocolate! You might feel like crap afterwards, but believe me, you will feel less crappy than if you troll Facebook looking at what you don’t have!

Now to go hit my treadmill! I’d like to be able to leave my house with my head held high again one of these days! I mean I might not be able to look like a super model, but if she can look like that, I don’t have to give in to the thirty-something Mommy frumpiness, right!

The Truth About Apples and Oranges

Anyone who has more than one child knows how vastly different one child can be from the next. My son and my first daughter are nothing alike. They resemble one another slightly physically, but other than that, they could not be more different. Nothing displayed their differences more clearly than their school experience.

When Gavin started school, it was a constant struggle. It wasn’t a lack of intelligence, more a lack of attention and lack of application. He simply didn’t care if he did a good job or not.  We were constantly in dialogue with his teacher about what kind of rewards might motivate Gavin to positive action. The nightly homework assignments were dreaded by Aar on and I as much as by Gavin. It often took an hour for Gavin to finish his assignment with constant supervision by us and he still usually had to do it over several times because he had rushed and it was illegible. I can only imagine the struggle his teacher had to get him to focus!

Being that Gavin was our first child in school, we didn’t really realize just how much more work he was than the typical child. Yes, we knew he was difficult, but, well, I guess we figured that all kids were somewhat difficult at that age. But then it was Arabelle’s turn to go to kindergarten with the same teacher. Wow! Did that put things in perspective!

To be fair to Gavin, Arabelle herself is quite the exceptional child. For everything Gavin is in difficulty, Arabelle is in ease. She has a genuinely sweet temperament and is always thinking of others before herself. She is a definite people pleaser and she is much less active than her brother. That being said, Arabelle’s entrance to the school world was quite the eye opener.

After a month of school, Arabelle received the “Star” award. Only two kindergarteners out of more than a hundred students were chosen for their exceptional behavior. Gavin had been in school for two years and we had never even heard of the award! Arabelle’s teacher remarked that she wanted to clone Arabelle and have a classroom full of Arabelles for Christmas. And, on the homefront, homework took about five minutes, did not need to be supervised and was almost always done correctly the first time around. It was great!

I am pleased to say that Gavin has finally turned a corner half way through second grade. He now brings home a stamp every day for good behavior just like his sister. His work still shows the effects of lack of care and rushing to get back to his Batman games, but still, there has been some growth in that area as well.

I have to admit, as proud as I am of Arabelle for doing so very well, I am even more proud of Gavin because I have seen him fight and claw his way against his personal instincts and desires. He has overcome. Arabelle did what came naturally to her. Gavin had to go against his very nature.

I guess my thought for the day is, as a parent, make sure you are comparing apples to apples and not to oranges. If I were to compare Gavin to Arabelle in this department, Gavin would always be lacking. But that simply would not be fair. I can’t compare my apple to my orange just because they are both fruits. They have nothing else in common outside of that!

It is so easy to slip into comparison between children. As a parent, I find that I need to continually remind myself that, not only is that not healthy, it is not fair. I need to take each on their own and compare where they are with what they are capable of and where they could be, not with where their brother or sister, or my friend’s child, or where the little boy down the street is at.

I wouldn’t want a world full of apples but no oranges, or vice versa. I am so very glad to have both!

When Life Hands You Lemons

One of the things that I’ve found true about life is that nothing ever goes how you expect it to. Just as soon as you lay out your plan and start heading in the direction you want to go, inevitably, life happens. You get knocked off course and you find that you have to reevaluate, adjust  or sometimes completely scrap whatever it is you were planning. As my husband likes to say, sometimes you just have to punt and hope it goes better on the next set of downs.

I am a planner. I always have been.  When I was younger I honestly believed all that I had to do was make the plans, and if I had enough will power, and if I didn’t quit, those dreams would be within my grasp. It sounds great. Inspiring really. But unfortunately, life is rarely so clear cut.

If my life had gone according to plan, I would have spent the last decade overseas making the world a better place, my daughter never would have died, my heart never would have been broken and I would be sitting here at almost 35 feeling pretty darn good about the first half of my life. It was attainable . . . until life happened.

For a decade I have suffered a series of setbacks. Many of them have been all but debilitating. From the loss of our daughter, the collapse of the housing market that killed our finances, to vandalism and being the victims of theft and nepotism, if something could go wrong, well it did. It’s enough to make a person want to throw in the towel and believe me, I’ve been tempted!

But what is it about hope that keeps it coming back against all rational thought and often against all probability? Just as soon as I decide this is it, I can’t do anymore, I feel the surge of that spirit that keeps me moving forward despite all common sense. It simply is not in me to quit, no matter how much I may want to.

Why am I sharing this? Because there is something I have learned in the midst of the seemingly constant adversity. I have suffered more in the last ten years than many people do their entire lives and yet I have not given up.

I have held onto a marriage that statistics and the professionals warned me would not last because of our loss. I have three healthy children against all the odds that said we shouldn’t risk having a family after Serena.  And though my dreams have been shattered time and again, I cannot stop trying.

Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment.  I don’t think that’s it though. I think somewhere along the line I realized something:  somethings are worth risking everything for and the only real failure is when we give up, when we stop fighting .

I’m not talking about giving up on childish or unattainable goals. I’m talking about the things and the people who are the very fabric of our lives. Giving up on them, that is failure.

So, no matter how many times I get knocked down, I will get back up. No matter how much I may hurt, I am going to keep putting myself out there. I may not have much, but I do have that. I am not a quitter.

This is a shout out there for everyone that has felt like giving up, but hasn’t and it is an encouragement for those who have given up to start the fight again.

Thank You Geeky Half Price Books Guy!

            All of us have coping methods we use to handle stress. For some, it is eating (often specifically chocolate or other very bad for you things). Others work out (I really wish that was mine! With all the stress in my life, I bet I’d look great!). My coping method of choice is shopping. Not just any shopping, it’s typically thrift shopping. I love finding a good deal. This coping method only works when you have money, which is definitely a major drawback and so I haven’t really been able to use this one lately. Instead I fallback to my second choice, escapism.

            Around this time last year, I found myself in the doldrums (gotta love that word! Doldroms . . . ) probably having something to do with the fact that I am an event junkie (See my previous blog) and it’s that stagnant time of year. My escapism of choice last year was Charlene Harris, writer of the Sookie Stackhouse vampire series, a very entertaining (and far better than the offshoot HBO series Trueblood imop) read. This year I kind of scratched my head and wasn’t real sure what to try, so I went to Half Price books and kind of meandered.

            I was browsing the fantasy section wishing that George R.R. Martin had a new book (I know, kind of laughable since it took eight years to get his last new book!). I pulled out this book, glanced at it, put it back. Then I grabbed that book ,glanced at it, only to put it back. You see, though I love fantasy, it has to be GOOD fantasy. I am extremely picky. I really didn’t want to try anything without a recommendation from someone willing to say that it was worth the read.

            Well, one of those annoying workers (obviously a complete geek btw!) who feel obligated to come by and ask you if you needed anything came over. I told him I was just browsing, like I usually do. Luckily this guy was persistent. So we started up a conversation about the kind of fantasy I liked.

           I of course mentioned Martin because he is just so awesome. Then I brought up Robert Jordan (yes, despite all the critics dissing him, I still love the Wheel of Time! He may be weak on characterization but he is a master at plot!) I dissed Terry Brooks and the Shanara series (great in junior high, but far too juvenile for me these days).

            I guess that must have given him enough of an idea of my taster, because he pulled a book off the shelf and told me he thought I would like it. Some guy named Jim Butcher who I had never heard of was the author. The series was called the Codex of Alera. It looked like a book that some geeky high school boy would like, but I was desperate. It was only a couple of bucks so I shrugged and said, “Why not” and bought it, honestly, with very low expectations.

            At first, the book was about what I expected. The first sixty pages or so were laborious. But then, it took off and hasn’t stopped. He has the characterization of Martin without ever slowing the plot. No plodding for Butcher! Maybe he goes a little more into the military/battle stuff than I would like, but let’s be honest, I’m not exactly his target audience! How many stay at home moms are into fantasy? Not many I would think!

I am now on book four and have been more than happy with my New Year escapism! I am looking forward to escaping into his world for us long as I can, and I hope he continues to write more of the same!

            Thank you geeky Half Price Books guy for convincing me to give Butcher a try! I’m hooked!

I think I am an Event Junkie!

            I’ve been sitting here with my morning cup of coffee trying to figure out why I feel so BLAH. Granted, there are lots of things in my life that I would like to (need to) change, but I really don’t think it has to do with the reflection on what went wrong in 2011 and what I want to see out of 2012. It’s more basic than that.

            I am an event junkie! What, you may ask, is an event junkie? Well, I need something on the horizon, something to look forward to. I can cope with the status quo when I know that in a few weeks, x,y or z is going to happen and I get to break away from the monotony of my daily life. Thus, an event junkie!

            So here I am on the post side of Christmas with all the excitement and busyness behind me and I am looking at the stark boring months of January and February. BLAH. I should be content with the little things, and I would be, if there was something on the horizon, but the only thing on the horizon is Valentine’s Day (and let’s be honest, when you’ve been married for 12 years and have three children, Valentine’s Day usually doesn’t even hit your radar!) and my birthday (which is a day I would just as soon ignore this year). Get ready for the two most boring months of the year!

            From Easter on (or even March if you get to do something fun on spring break) it seems like there is always something great around the corner. Spring break leads to Easter, which leads to the end of school, which leads to all the fun trips and activities of summer which leads to school starting, to Halloween, to Thanksgiving, and culminates into Christmas. And then BAM! You have to trudge through the two stagnate months before anything fun starts to happen!

            So, what does an event junkie like me do? I stare at my planner. I will it to fill. I actively try to fill it up with mildly enjoyable activities that will pass the time until I have something truly event worthy to break me out of the treadmill that is my life.

            Pretty sad, eh? But there it is, the sad truth. Not sure how to fix it, so I think I’ll disappear into my latest good read and ignore the house that needs to be cleaned, at least for a little while. Some good escapism might just do the trick!

Pass Me Another Glass of Wine . . . and My Pillow Please!

            I have never been what you would call a party animal. (Yes, I can hear the snickers from those of you who think I have always been the farthest thing from it!), but I think that I have taken it to a whole new level these days.

            First of all, I totally forgot it was New Year’s Eve. Yep, forgot until that afternoon at which point I mumbled to one of my kids, “I suppose we should do something . . .” and then I promptly forgot about it again.

            When my husband came home from work he had the same kind of scratching the head, “So what are you thinking for tonight” thought I had had. We kind of shrugged at each other and both said that we should at least do something.

            Well that something, ended up being a pretty big nothing. We started with a rip-roaring episode of Veggie Tales. We even turned the volume way up loud and belted the silly songs at the tops of our lungs. That led to our familiar “night, night” routine with the kiddos, at which point Aaron and I kind of looked at each other again, scratched our heads and said a collective, “Now what?”

            We decided on a thrilling cribbage competition! Yep, woo hoo! Aren’t you jealous!? I pretty much kicked his butt and we went back to scratching our heads.

            Finally Aaron just asked, “So, would you mind if I went out and played poker with the guys?”

            I thought about it and truly, I didn’t really care, so we parted ways and I went back to pondering just what I should do with myself as I waited to bring in the year that is supposed to end the world. Seems like I should do something, right?

            That’s when I had a great idea! I thought of that bottle of wine that has been sitting in my fridge for the last three months just waiting for such an occasion. That would be perfect for the night! So I cracked open the bottle and settled into a chick flick.

            The only problem was that drinking wine alone puts you to sleep. Before I knew it my eyes were drooping and I was having a tough time staying awake at all.

            So I thought about it a little bit. “Ahhh . . . who really cares about welcoming the New Year in anyway? It’s not like when I was twenty and I was hoping that some guy would kiss me. Who cares if it’s 10:30 and it’s New Year’s?”

            So, I drank another glass of wine, which did the trick. It put me straight to sleep.

            Now that is a New Year’s to remember!