3 Strikes...

On the Jukebox: "Viva!" by Bond
Mood: Amused
Quote: "Ain't nobody watching you, Rockwell!" ~ I Love the 80's
Flair: Normal Brain

Strikes are usually a bad thing. Think about it... lightening strikes are bad - especially when they fry your hardware, getting a strike in baseball is a bad thing if you are the batter, having your employees go on strike is bad, upsetting the empire so that they strike back is also gotta be pretty bad. I'm not a fan of the writer's strike as it was responsible for the cancellation of several promising shows. In general, I'm not a fan of strikes or striking.

So why is it that I am waiting for inspiration to strike? Isn't that sort of a contradiction in terms? Inspiration shouldn't beat you over the head with a club, rather is should be a lovely muse that whispers enlightening ideas into your ears. The only thing I've had an earful of today is the ticking of my procrastination clock. It's set to implode on next Thursday. This will give me all day Friday to freak out about my interior design presentation.

Here's the deal. I have to give this presentation 3 times next Saturday. It's 30 minutes long - which is rather short to even scratch the depth of my knowledge and yet too long to just give a few ideas. It's for a small group of 500 ladies - not a big deal. I was asked to do this way back before Halloween so I've had 3 months to prepare or procrastinate depending on how you look at it. I turned in my presentation handout the first week of December when it was due. Thinking about what I would actually say wasn't to be considered until at least mid-January so the handout is basic and full of generic but useful information.
I'll admit I've been thinking a lot about it, but I've thought about it so much that now I'm bored with it. I'd rather be writing my book's sequel (which the test readers are digging so much that they're begging for the next section...) and so thinking about furniture and accessory advice is sort of 'meh' right now. I'm not afraid of presenting to large groups. I've taught at national conventions for Stampin' Up! and have done my share of professional presentations in corporate and educational settings. I have mad decorating skills. I know my material. I know my audience. I should have this in the bag and yet...

...I am sure that I'm about to make a huge fool of myself in front of my friends which is worse than doing it in front of 10,000 strangers. The thing is if someone else were presenting I'd be sitting in the crowd silently critiquing them and thinking how much better I could do it. No matter what I decide to say or show there's bound to be someone sitting in the crowd thinking they know more than me. I had thought about talking for 10-15 minutes and then opening the floor up to decorating questions but that poses a problem. I could be blindsided by "the hard to handle without a lengthy explanation and lots of visual charts" type of questions. I've got to come up with a plan someday soon.

Normally a stroke of brilliance comes along at the last minute, so I'll be banking on that. Unlike strikes, strokes are good. Think about it... stroke of luck, stroke of genius, skillful golf strokes, and if you stroke a genie's lamp 3 times and you get 3 wishes! My first wish would be to fast forward to the week after my presentation and discover that everyone thought my presentation was insightful, useful, and that I'm still as smart as I think I am. My second wish would be for a magic box of quality chocolates that replenishes itself every time I close the lid - said chocolates would also melt excess fat off as they melt in my mouth. My final wish would be to have a publisher hounding me with deadlines because that sounds like more fun than giving interior design advice for free at the moment. Hmmm, maybe I should just recycle some of the decorating articles I've written for magazines and websites...

The Bermuda Trapezoid

On the Jukebox: "A Summer Song" by Chad and Jeremy
Mood: I'm awake, let's not push it...
Quote: "More fun than a bent Wookie!"
Flair: Jelly Fishing

So I've just been informed that it's Friday - again. I don't know how I keep losing Thursday. This is probably the third time in the last year that Thursday has evaporated into thin air. I'm weirded out right now. Personally I think that there's a logical, even scientific explanation: The Bermuda Trapezoid (BT).

Yep... it's a portal that is portable for your convenience - a travel size black hole if you will... Everyone gets a chance to use the BT occasionally. It's on a lotto system so sometimes you can access it multiple times in a year. Unfortunately most people use it to screw with other people. "Where did my TPS cover sheet go?" Voip! Someone zapped it into the BT to make themselves look more competent. Most people forget when it's their turn to use the BT so it goes on autopilot and randomly selects a sock from the dryer or car keys.

What I want to know is why people keep taking my Thursdays? Now weekends... that I could totally understand, but come on Thursday, really? What's up with that? Don't you know that's my day to procrastinate? Now I'm behind in my procrastinating, the one thing I don't like to put off until later. I'm very put out now. I promise when I get a turn with the BT again, I'm going to send a few people away for good. That way I can get caught up without distractions. Until then, please leave my Thursdays alone!

Bruised Ego

On the Jukebox: "Scarlet" by All About Eve
Mood: Surprisingly Good
Quote: "Be grateful for unanswered prayers. It just means God has something better in store for you."
Flair: What's Your Excuse?

Time heals all wounds, eh? We'll see about that. Here are a dozen ego crushers that I haven't quite got over yet. (In no particular order)

1) When my handsome and charming date that I was smitten with didn't kiss me goodnight after my senior prom. Why Chris why? Did I have something in my teeth?

2) Finding out that the Beatles song was about a girl named Michelle. (I still think 'Soquel, my belle' sounds better.)

3) Not being included in my senior yearbook even though I had the lead in the play and rode on the homecoming float.

4) Developing health problems that change my physical appearance - because an additional 80 pounds, bulging eyes, drooping skin, and a hairy chin is not how I see myself.

5) Having my name misspelled or mispronounced continually. I vow that someday everyone will know how to say it and spell it - but just in case S.G. Baumgardner is still my nom de plume

6) Discovering that I was the butt of some mean jokes in my teen years. Really? Dating me was considered punishment? Ouch!

7) Driving several towns away to see a friend who was home visiting from college only to have that friend hide in his or her room to avoid me.

8) Having my birthday continually overlooked. I've already whined about that one.

9) Being rejected by the agent I wanted - worse, being rejected by a few I didn't want. Let's just file this one under temporary disappointment.

10) Hearing my new husband express regrets about his last girlfriend who married when he was on his mission. I'm over that now but still worry that she's prettier.

11) When the last place I worked didn't implode instantly on my departure. Is there no justice in the world?

12) Having America's Funniest Home Videos reject my video.

Well, there you have it. You can see what a frail messed up ego I have. It is ironic that I can take criticism well. I don't mind being 'abused' to my face. I hate when I find out through the grapevine or some other way. It feels like a betrayal by someone who lacks courage. I still get weirded out when I find out that people are talking about me. I can't wrap my mind around the fact that they're usually saying nice things. I get that a lot of things on this list have to do with growing up and becoming mature and I guess I need to allow that not only was I once immature but so were the people who bruised my ego.

As for #1 - prom date with my best guy friend... if said guy had smooched me then, we probably would have dated exclusively and I would have put myself in cold storage until he returned from his mission (then things would have fallen apart when he got back.) I'm a loyal person and can imagine myself avoiding the singles ward to stay out of temptation's way. I would have missed out meeting the great guy that I married. Not to kiss and tell but that guy did smooch me before he left of his mission and it was smoking hot! Thank goodness that Grant is an awesome kisser.

Trash Talking

On the Jukebox: "Lover Lover Lover" by Ian Mcculloch
Mood: So-So
Quote: "You think with a financial statement like this you can have the duck?" ~ LA Story
Flair: Bat van Gogh

Many decades ago in my fourth grade Social Studies class I remember learning about a group of cultural anthropologist who felt that by studying a person's garbage they could learn everything relevant about them. Little did they know that they were pioneers in the new-fangled science of stalkerology. Fast forward to this day and age and people have started to divide their garbage into different containers. If they're normal OR live in a state where recycling is mandatory, it's probably more organized than other areas of their lives.

First, there are the things that must be recycled. These can be further divided into glass, cardboard, paper, and plastics. Next would be the safe guarded personal information which must be shredded and burned before being disposed of. This is the type of stuff like bank statements, credit card offers, and overdue notices from the library. The next group is the compost pile - wilted celery stalks, potatoes with more eyes than a peep show, and dead houseplants that went unwatered too long. The last group is the smelly garbage can group - moldy cheese, kitty litter, mayonnaise jars filled with rancid bacon grease, and used tissues.

What would my waste receptacle tell the world about me? First that I don't actively recycle - unless you count using the empty glass jars to store grease. To make up for ruining our environment I clip the 'Box Tops for Education.' I take my personal information to be professionally shredded. Perhaps my stalker will conclude that I had good intentions to eat vegetables but have a penchant for dark chocolate, ice cream, and string cheese. They could also conclude that I floss, use expensive 2 ply toilet paper, and refuse to buy Proctor and Gamble products in protest for their political views.

Whatever the researchers/stalkers find is bound to be misinterpreted. For example, there are a lot of match sticks which may lead them to conclude I'm a fire bug or have a smelly bathroom. When in fact I just don't like candle warmers because lit candles are easier to warm my hands on when they get too cold to type. The truth is other than my dietary habits, you won't learn much from what gets collected on a weekly basis. Maybe the semi-annual charity drive would tell you more, but don't count on it. I tend to use items until they are worn out. I also get a lot of hand me downs that don't fit so I pass them on.

If you searched my address book, calendar, and my computer files such as Internet browser history and desktop recycling bin then maybe you'd know something. Or the books on my shelves and DVDs in my entertainment center. You might understand me better if you saw my decorating tastes and art collection. Or maybe browsed the thousands of songs in my jukebox. Or read my mail, specifically the letters written to me. My clothes would only tell you that my mom still buys the majority of them and that I like to shop at Ross because I am a tightwad. My point is, I don't throw away the things that make me who I am. If you want to know who I am - it's probably better just to ask or read this inane Blog.

PS: If you are a stalker or plan to write an unauthorized biography on me, I'd appreciate if you would leave my friend's trash cans alone.

Insomina or Writer's Block? (tough call)

On the Jukebox: "Come Away With Me" by Norah Jones
Mood: Annoyed to be awake in the middle of the night
Quote: "To sleep perchance to dream..." Willyboy the Bard
Flair: The Wall

I hate insomnia! But in all honesty I shouldn't be complaining about this particular case. I have been staring at the ceiling in my bedroom for the past three hours and decided enough is enough. So I got up and came down to the basement to cure the insomnia. I figure writing this entry will distract me enough that maybe I can go back to sleep. What is it that keeps me up? Well, in the past it used to be the dread of having to wake up and go to work at my nightmare of a job (it seemed much more efficient not to fall asleep thus avoiding having to wake up...)

What's keeping me up at the moment? Too much information for my story that I can't type fast enough. Yesterday was uber productive. I managed to whip out a Blog entry and an impressive 19 3/4ths pages despite rolling out of bed around 9AM, taking a two hour lunch break, and talking on the phone for another hour. I'm on a roll and that's great...except it's hard to turn it off when bedtime comes around. So I stared at my ceiling from 9:45PM (trying to catch up on sleep since I stayed up on purpose until 4AM the other night) until I fell asleep around 10:38PM and then my eyes flew open around 1:53AM and I've been up ever since. I'm very annoyed.

Don't get me wrong - I love my characters, well most of them. (I was never very fond of Danielle, Beacon, or Justin...)But I hate that they wake me up in the middle of the night to tell me stupid things. Was it necessary for me to know that Lindsey's snoring keeps Dom up at night? Not at all! Thanks so much for sharing Dom! As a general rule the only characters allowed to bother me after hours are Simon, Jerusha, Tamsin, and Moroni. The others know I will kill them off in the book if they make a habit of disturbing my 'me' time.

Of the fab four, at least Simon has the courtesy to apologize for the inconvenient timing but he's usually on Central European Time so it's easier to forgive him because he's probably checking in on his lunch break like a good son. Jerusha, on the other hand, is oblivious to the fact that I don't care about her latest wardrobe or roommate crisis. Fortunately, she's fairly easy to tune out. All I have to do is reassure her that 1) her roommates all secretly want to be her and 2) she wears clothes so well that she could make a burlap sack the new little black dress. Then I gradually am lulled back to sleep by her endless descriptions of shoe options for said burlap sack.

I like to sleep. I'm good at it and try to get 8 1/2 to 9 hours every night so that I'm nice to real people. Yeah, I really love to sleep. I especially like dreaming. It's a great way to replenish my creativity. What's a girl to do when the thing she uses her creativity for is the very thing depriving her of sleep? Is it a curse or a blessing - tough call! When Grant's alarm goes off around 5:30ish I wake up enough to control my dreaming. You've probably heard of the lucid dreaming technique. About twenty years ago I read a book called 'How to Write in Your Sleep' (or something like that) and have been using the technique ever since.

The time between when Grant gets up and when he leaves the house I flip the switch and go into lucid writing mode. That's when I invite my characters to update me on the latest plot developments and then I do a few scenarios until I find the option I like best. For example, for Book 2 I asked Jerusha and Alex to tell me how they were reunited after their long estrangement. Each told me a different story. I didn't like either one, so I asked if anyone else could tell me what really happened. I was surprised by the character who knew the real answer. So you see, sleep really is necessary in order not to have writer's block.

I can't function without sleep and my work always suffers. At the moment I have the next 4 chapters of my book fairly fleshed out in my head but can't get them onto paper. It's irritating because that's the reason I'm too distracted to sleep. I'm also too incoherent to write. I don't even want to read this post later because I'm sure it's a rambling mess. The great news is my eyes are starting to feel blurry so maybe I can sleep soon. I'm going to go upstairs and try. Know what's really funny about this whole thing? The book is called Ethereal Dreamer, that pretty much implies that someone gets sleep and is a beautiful dreamer. I guess we know now with complete certainty that I am not Jerusha (I told you before that I am Tamsin - who also suffers from insomnia!) BTW, Princess Poutypants , the giraffe print ponyhair heels would look fabulous with the burlap sack. Now shut up or you won't live to see Book 3!

Forget the Whales, Save the Chick Flicks

On the Jukebox: "That's All" by Michael Buble
Mood: Still hungover from the Strawberry 'Snort' Cake
Quote:"Back off Death! I'm not done living!" ~ Big Fat Liar
Flair: Snow Day

There's something I miss almost as much as scripted comedy and that's a real chick flick. It seems there has been a shortage of quality lady films in the past few years. January-February is the time that the movie industry refers to as 'Chick Flick' season. I can only imagine it's because all the Oscar contenders come out around the big holidays and action films in the summer and there is this little romance holiday known as "St. Valumtimes' Day" that make men feel obligated to get their yearly dose of celluloid-delivered estrogen. When I talk about chick flicks I mean specifically Romance - not girlfriend movies like Fried Green Tomatoes, Joy Luck Club, Steel Magnolias, or League of Their Own.

Romances should contain some combinations of the following ingredients: A plucky but nearly average heroine, a pretty dress or other Cinderella moment, exotic or historical location, heartfelt and tender moment, a big house with a moonlit garden, a ball or romantic party, a song from the Great American Songbook, a handsome, intelligent man in need of rescuing but who is not damaged goods, some tragic misunderstanding or act of nature that keeps the couple apart, yada yada... NOTE: most chick flicks end with first kiss or wedding. The love appears to be chaste and not founded on lustful attraction.

Truthfully, I don't think that real men mind chick movies because they understand the payoff that comes with allowing a woman to view a romantic fantasy. What men mind is the ball-bashing she-woman man-haters club that appear to be writing the majority of said films lately. In the last few wannabe chick flicks that I've seen there are very few men who aren't emasculated by a woman who is superior to him in every way. Real chick flicks require a sensitive and strong male lead. I can't even begin to say how disappointed I am. Perhaps revealing that I haven't purchased a DVD for my lady films collection since Enchanted (and before that I can't remember!) may shed some light on the issue.

Last night I watched a movie that I found to be depressing. There was no love story even though it was on the Encore Love channel and starred an actress who primarily is cast in such roles. I hated it completely. Listen people, jumping into bed with your dead fiance's friend does not mean happily ever after! I want Mr. Darcy or at least my Joe Fox! "Okay, Soquel, name a few real chick flicks so we can understand what you mean." Well if you insist...

REAL CHICK MOVIES: You've Got Mail, Sabrina, 13 Going on 30, Just Like Heaven, The Lake House, Everafter, Sense and Sensibility, Sleepless In Seattle, Emma, Last Holiday, Miss Congeniality, Notting Hill, Never Been Kissed, My Best Friend's Wedding, 50 First Dates, Somewhere in Time, Legally Blonde, Little Women, Blast From the Past, Shall We Dance (Japanese version), Becoming Jane, Roman Holiday, A Room With a View, The Princess Bride, While You Were Sleeping, Clueless, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, Penelope

NOT A CHICK MOVIE: Titanic, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, The Devil Wears Prada, Alex and Emma, Catch and Release, Pride & Prejudice (Kira Knightly version), Moulin Rouge, Little Black Book, A Knight's Tale, Gone With the Wind, Grease, Dirty Dancing,The English Patient, Hope Floats, Runaway Bride, the Wedding Planner, Picture Perfect, The Wedding Date, Stardust, Age of Innocence

SPLIT JURY: What Women Want, Moonstruck, Pretty Woman, The Notebook, Ghost, Pretty in Pink, Life or Something Like it, Forget Paris, Out of Africa, City of Angels, Meet Joe Black, Sweet Home Alabama, Can't Buy Me Love, Love Potion #9, Dance With Me

I've left teen films like modern What a Girl Wants, A Cinderella Story, Drive Me Crazy, She's the Man, 10 Things I Hate About You, and She's All That off my list because teenager females are a different animal entirely. I don't think I'll find a teenage girl who doesn't love Twilight - don't even get me started on that one! I'm for Team Edward Scissorhands!

Fables and Foolishness

On the Jukebox: "Borrowed Angels" by Kristin Chenoweth
Mood: Rested
Quote: "Oh yeah, well this is my Father's kingdom."
Flair: Divine

We recently went to the Bountiful Temple. It was awesome to see how crowded it was. Afterwards we ran into Costco to pick up some supplies. It was Saturday morning and I was struck by the random observation that there is probably nowhere else besides "Zion" where you would encounter so many people in a bulk warehouse wearing suits and dresses - well at least not on Saturday.

Living in this area has really warped my perception of reality and randomness. I'm hesitant to look at the real world for fear of seeing some really scary stuff. I've been in the bubble for several years now. Sometimes it's akin to being a grasshopper among the ants. But the ants need grasshoppers so it's all good. I'll continue to be myself and be happy with my unique views. At least I know I'm not alone, I've found at least one kindred spirit. Here's a great article which is an excerpt from the book '"Thoughts of a Grasshopper" by Louise Plummer.

http://lds.org/ldsorg/v/index.jsp?vgnextoid=2354fccf2b7db010VgnVCM1000004d82620aRCRD&locale=0&sourceId=0f83d7630a27b010VgnVCM1000004d82620a____&hideNav=1

Beware of Jolly Green Tyrants

On the Jukebox: "Need I Say More?" by Sissel
Mood: Snacky-doodle-do
Quote: "Hey, Smalls, you wanna s'more?"..."Some more of what?" ~ the Sandlot
Flair: Made with real Girl Scouts

For over 80 years now the Girl Scouts of America have peddled their deliciously evil wares. "Evil, you say?" Oh yes! Believe me: the Girl Scouts are right up there with Dr. Evil in terms of schemes to take over the world and to destroy everything good and thin, except they do it while skipping door to door and singing about rainbows and ponies. This is blatant racketeering disguised as sugar confections hand delivered by uniformed guards.

Long ago when things were different, I was once a Girl Scout and part time cookie pusher. This was back when it was still safe to go door to door with your mom standing on the edge of the driveway while you worked the top secret tactics that were taught to you in troop meetings. These involved things like: 1) stand knock kneed with one foot behind the other and occasionally shuffle your feet like a bashful child. 2)look up through your lashes and bat your eyes (this effect should be akin to Puss in Boots on Shrek) 3) if the previous ploys don't work, put out your bottom lip and have it quiver and say 'pwease' with a lisp. 4) if all else fails cry!!!

I sold exactly enough boxes to be awarded the patch and pin. I hated every moment of it and wanted to quit the troop. The incentive to pound the pavement with my wagon of diabetic death was Camp Happy Clover, where I was promised I would learn to canoe and get to ride live ponies. They say the selling experience builds character and teaches life lessons. It really does! I learned at an early age that everyone has a price and that if you should decide to sell yourself, make sure you get a cashier's check. I never got to go to Camp Happy Clover - it was shut down by the board of health. We ended up making really lame clothes pin dolls instead. So not worth it! I want my dignity back!

Fast forward to the present and the Girl Scouts do things differently. First, they start off by sending a sign up sheet to work with their parents and it becomes the parents' competition to sell the most boxes. Next, they set up cookie stands conveniently located on busy traffic corners and outside of women's gyms. They prance around with boxes of cookies or even wearing cookie costumes. Have you ever tried to say no to pirouetting Daisy-Go-Rounds, Cinna-Spins, and Do-Si-Dos? (given the cookie names they pretty much have to prance...) They still use the top secret tactics discussed above.

Every year they increase the cost of the box by a quarter and decrease the amount of cookies by two. Soon I'll be paying $6.50 for one Thin Mint. It is so cruel because once you've had a GS cookie, you are immediately addicted for life. That's why they mention how well they freeze so you'll stock up during this limited time sale. (Heck, they put them in ice cream now to prove their point!) Trust me people, they are going to take over the world.

"Oh Soquel, those cookies are delicious. We can't understand why you think this is an evil conspiracy!" Listen people, I am right on this one. I know I am. Think about it: More Americans start new diets and exercise plans on New Year's Day. It has to do with goals and resolutions. This leads to the epic clash of goals - theirs against ours. It is not coincidence that about the time our resolve is weakening they show up with their highly addictive wares. For those of us still strong enough to resist the sign up sheet, there'll be cookies waiting on the corners in a few more weeks when we falter. They'll get you, each and every one.

If my supplier is reading this... I'd like 1 box of Tagalongs, 1 box of Trefoils Shortbread, 2 boxes of Thin Mints, 3 boxes of Samoas, and a case of Neener-Neeners.

Out, Brief Candle...

On the Jukebox: "Winds of Change" by The Scorpions
Mood: Energetic
Quote: "I already saw them online... when I searched for BORING!" ~ ABC's Centerville
Flair: Wagonful O'Pancakes

Just a short note today as I am all ready to jump into writing another exciting chapter of my book... I've left a bloody mess to clean up on aisle 5 and should get back to it ASAP.

Have you ever been watching a terrible movie and all of sudden the thought occurs to you that you will never get those two hours of your life back? It's terrifying. Lately I've been feeling that way about many things. Why do people like to waste half the day in pointless meetings when one or two emails could accomplish the same thing? It's taken me a while to arrive at the conclusion that my time is too valuable to waste. I finally understand what Shakespeare meant about the sound and the fury that signify nothing. Apparently he's had to hang around with idiots and time-wasters too.

I find myself once again in limbo. I see the sands in my hourglass running swiftly to the bottom and know not whether the fates will conspire to rush me now or give me reprieve by turning the hourglass on its head. I may have a week or I may have many months to accomplish certain tasks that loom ahead of me. I find it most irritating not to know because until I have a solid deadline, I am my own worst time-waster. I certainly don't want to jump the gun or burn bridges (I've had to rebuild them too often) but would a date carved in stone be too much to ask?

So for those of you who wonder why I let my phone go to voicemail or I take my sweet time responding to your emails, Facebook comments, and such... it's not personal, it's called time management (and limited daytime minutes on my phone.) Today I leave you with an excerpt to ponder from the Bard's Scottish play that I find to be very thought provoking.

MACBETH
Wherefore was that cry?

SEYTON
The queen, my lord, is dead.

MACBETH
She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing

Hooray for the Brown Birds

On the Jukebox:"Songbird" by Eva Cassidy
Mood: Bueno!
Quote:"Talent is God-given. Be humble. Fame is man-given. Be grateful. Conceit is self-given. Be careful." ~ John Wooden
Flair: Eva Cassidy

One of my favorite authors, Henry Van Dyke wrote, "Use what talents you possess: The woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best." You've probably never heard of Henry, but around the turn of the last century he wrote a book call "The Blue Flower" which is a collection of short stories including the touching and popular "The Other Wise Man." Oh yeah, that Henry Van Dyke...

Recently I've been pondering what he said about the silent woods. I'd heard this quote paraphrased where it was only the pretty birds who sang. That's how I like to think of it. Often times we feel that someone else can do something better than we can, so we leave it for them to do. This is a bad thing because it cheats the world out of so many unique voices. I remember reading somewhere that the bright yellow canaries don't sing as much as their drab counterparts. Interesting... I thought about that for a while and decided that the more colorful the bird, the less often I associate songs with them. I have no idea if parrots or peacocks even sing. They are colorful birds that attract the eye, but what sort of talents do they possess?

Today's entry is dedicated to little brown birds that fill the woods with song. They may not be the famed nightingale that graced the emperor's courts and won the hearts of the people, but their voices combine into a cacophony of lovely sound that make this world a better place. To put it simply, every one's contributions are needed. Every body has a talent to contribute and it doesn't matter if it is the same as another's. What matters is that we share it. Let your voice be heard.

The late Eva Cassidy was a brown bird. Record producers didn't think she was showy enough to offer her a label and the world almost missed out on a wonderful and unique voice. Eva was shy and humble about her gift. She played for family and friends and in small clubs. I love her version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" because of the touching story behind it. It goes right to the heart of recognizing beauty and talent - which I plan to write another entry on soon. You can check it the story and my favorite Eva songs on my youtube playlist below. Note: you can skip the Nightline segment and just see a few of my favorite tunes or watch it all, which I highly recommend. If you hold your mouse over the bottom it should tell you the names of the items in the playlist.

The truth is that in our daily lives, every brown bird is actually another sort of a bird. I'm not the graceful white swan that some of my dancing friends are. Nor am I the industrious robin redbreast that feathers her nest like my friends who are organized and prepared in all things. I'd love to be the happy duck or the mother hen, but I'm not and admire my friends who are contented with their role as homemakers. I love my silly goose friends too because they teach me to appreciate a good sense of humor. I am not the beautiful blue peacock that wears fashions so well or possesses natural beauty. I'm a white peacock that so many didn't even know exist because the other kind of peacock's plumage dazzles them. I like being a plain white bird because it makes me think of using my skills to build up the kingdom and being a virtuous woman dressed in Temple white. One more thing: white peacock feathers make excellent writing quills!

Kicking Names & Taking Buts

On the Jukebox: "I Can't Take My Eyes Off of You" by Lauryn Hill
Mood: Improving
Idiom: "Kicking butts and taking names."
Flair: Total coolness

I wonder what wonders await me in the land of the fairies and elves today? It is sarcastic Wednesday, thus the ultimate way to survive the tedium of the 12 hour work day is to make as many wise acre comments as possible. Be forewarned, that's all I'm saying. Ever notice that the everyone has a big but? I'm not talking about mom jeans that have the "wide load" sign on the back, I'm talking about the huge excuse we use to safely avoid stepping out of our comfort zone. "I'd love to help you but..." or "I'd totally do that dream job but..." or "If I marry so&so I would be happy but..."

But what?!!! Come on people! Why do we wait to be happy when it is possible right now? Why are we always waiting to see how things turn out? What's wrong with being proactive? Which brings me to today's idiom. It means to arm yourself and be prepared in case a situation calls for it. It makes me think of a solider who defeats an opponent and takes his dog tags or his reputation. Applying it to myself it makes me think of times I conquered some obstacle and it gave me the courage to name my next one.

Too often we are pantywaists who take the safe path. I'm sick of it. I've decided that I'm not taking any more excuses or 'buts' if you will. From now on if you solicit my opinion and then you give me an excuse for why you aren't going to pursue said avenue of choice (Note: I said excuse not valid reason!) I will add your name to my wall of shame. I will make fun of you and kick you when you are down. Thus the new saying "kicking names and taking buts." I know it doesn't make any sense. So what? Did I mention it was sarcastic Wednesday?

Okay, so let's talk about *your* big but. What is holding you back from the all American pastime of pursuing happiness? If you want my support you know where to find me - just be prepared to come prepared for some harsh reality checks if you start to sound like you're making excuses. I'd like to leave you with an excerpt from one of my favorite poems on personal quests. Ponder and enjoy!

"How should we be able to forget those ancient myths that are at the beginning of all peoples. The myths about dragons, that at the last moment, turn into princesses. Perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses: who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us. So you must not be frightened if a sadness rises up before you, larger than any you have ever seen. If a restiveness, like light and cloud shadows, passes over your hands and over all you do. You must think that something is happening with you. That life has not forgotten you. That it holds you in its hand. It not let you fall."

~ Rainer Maria Rilke
(excerpt from Letters to a Young Poet)

Total Treat Losers

On the Jukebox:"Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps" by Cake
Mood: Ornery
Quote: "Sit on it!"
Flair: He was robbed

It's that Tuesday so many people have waited for. The official changing of the guard. Out with the old presidency and in with the new. I'm not very excited about politics because I think that they ruin democracy - too many competing agendas to be for the greater good... Anyway can I just say I'm most disappointed with the new First Lady's ball gown. What a total bummer. It's the closest thing we have to American royalty and it was so not red carpet worthy. Boo! So much for youth bringing some fresh perspective to fashion. All right I'm done ranting. I don't have time for a long winded post today. I'm behind the power curve on too many projects. Maybe tomorrow. After all that will be Sarcastic Wednesday - my favorite day of the week.

A Bad Case of the Mondays

On the Jukebox:"Birthright" by a-ha
Mood: too tired to care
Quote: "Oh yeah, sleep on that!"
Flair: grood advice

I'm so not a Monday person. I'll get you for this Monday... or maybe I'll just go back to bed until Tuesday. I'd rather be a TTL - total treat loser than have to face Monday. Yeah, that's it. "Loosing tribe, I got nothing for you, go back to camp!"

Grant's lappy is in the shop for a tune up and he's wanting some compy time so I have to share my hardware today. So this post is brief and pointless - how Monday!

For Singing Out Loud!

On the Jukebox: "Blackbird" by Sarah McLachlan (Beatles remake on the I am Sam soundtrack)
Mood: Contemplative, but not too deep
Quote:"Keep your day job!"
Flair: with a strong, clear voice

I'll always remember the day I discovered I was not musically gifted. My young heart was broken by the harsh review I received from the music teacher when I auditioned for the school choir. She said something about not being able to carry a tune even if it had a handle and that I shouldn't or couldn't sing. Before that fateful day, I believed everyone could sing. It seemed second nature. Think about it: in elementary school everyone sings in the school program. It isn't until later that we weed out the bad singers and steer them towards shop or art classes.

When I was young, I happily sang. I would wander around the house sing-songing nonsensical things. I sang beautifully in the shower and knew that someday I would impress the judges at the Miss Universe pageant. I just knew that when I was crowned there wouldn't be a dry eye in the theatre and they would beg me to sing once more. I think the words encore and bravo were the first foreign words I ever learned on my own. Adults allowed me to continue on with this deluded idea for many years.

I was awarded a talent show ribbon for my 6th grade duet. My partner and I were supposed to sing two songs (from the primary songbook) but after the first one she ran off the stage. I thought she had stage fright but now I suspect she was embarrassed to sing with me. Nancy C. - I'm so sorry about my lack of talent and the Holly Hobbie knee socks! When I was fifteen my friend Elizabeth C. and I sang a duet for seminary graduation (this time I wore turquoise pantyhose.) Again we were complimented for our musical contribution. I have this duet on video and have to say it isn't too excruciating to watch. In fact, little birds in the outer eaves of the building sing along with us, so it's quite enchanting.

It was only after I started my sophomore year of high school that the choir director took me aside and said "No honey no!" and suggested I take art instead, that I began to question everything I believed myself to be. Was I not talented? Was I not pretty? Was I not smart? What if I wasn't a good writer, ballet dancer, nice person, or fun babysitter? What if everyone who said nice things to or about me was a liar? As children we tend to believe everything we're told - especially about ourselves. Talk about a rude awakening!

My rule of thumb is never tell a person that they can't sing. My dear friend D. can't sing worth a plugged nickel but I'd never tell her that because she sings with such enthusiasm. I would hate to suck the joy out of it. Somehow even after having a professional choir director tell me that I stink, I still ended up displaying my lackluster musical talent. Isn't it necessary to practice in order to improve?

Well, I sang in our SM 6th ward roadshow - (which I wrote my senior year) and I purposely chose a song that was meant to sound sort of bad: "Will I wait for you?" from Saturday's Warriors. Did I mention that I'm good at laughing at myself? God must have enjoyed laughing at me too because I was called to be the primary chorister. Me - teaching little children how to sing "Follow the Prophet" very off key. How awesome is that??? Then I wrote another roadshow and taught a bunch of teenagers to sing show tunes way off key. Ah memories!

Here's what I've learned from this experience: Human beings were meant to sing just as much as the song birds in the forests. God still likes my voice even though I'll never rock American Idol. Heavenly choirs announced Christ's birth. Music resonates in each of us on a spiritual level. That's why the scriptures talk about the song of the righteous being a prayer. I love to sing primary songs and hymns. (I also like to sing Air Supply songs but that's another entry.) Oh, and one more thing: the Carpenters are right!

Sing, sing a song
Sing out loud
Sing out strong
Sing of good things not bad
Sing of happy not sad

Sing, sing a song
Make it simple to last
Your whole life long
Don't worry that it's not
Good enough for anyone
Else to hear
Just sing, sing a song

La la la la la
La la la la la la...

Two Cute!

On the Jukebox: "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/ What a Wonderful World" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole
Mood: Good enough
Definition: Compromise - an amiable arrangement between husband & wife whereby they agree to let her have her own way.
Flair: 2 carrot bling

Today we attended the wedding reception of one of Grant's coworkers in the 419th. The first time I met the bride and groom was when I was in Hawaii last September. We were at a banquet to thank the CE squad for their work. Seated at our table was the most darling couple. You know the kind - the minute you see them you just want to put them in a frame on your desk. They were stinking adorable and no one would mistake the fact that they were gaga for each other. My husband had mentioned that the guy was planning to propose to his girlfriend at sunset on the beach somewhere and everyone was waiting for her to show up with the ring. It was like being in on a big secret and not knowing when the surprise would happen. I'm a sucker for a romantic plot.

Long story short - he proposed and she said yes and they tied the knot on the beach in Hawaii at sunset sometime during the two week tour. Tonight they hosted a luau to celebrate their marriage. Again I was struck with how cute newly weds are. It's been a while since any has mistaken Grant and I for youngsters. I don't have a problem with that because he still looks at me the way he did when we were first dating. I hope that this young couple will have the same opportunities for happiness as we do. It makes me sad to see couples that once had love grow complacent. It seems that these days people just lack the discipline to try when things get rough or they are selfish.

I want to hold a mirror up to all the young couples out there and show them how cute they are when they're just staring off... but more than that I want to show them people like Gordon B. Hinckley and his sweet wife Marjorie to define what is truly adorable. I can't think of anything more poignant than a mature couple holding hands as they hobble off into the sunset. Now that's too cute!

What Somi Wants....

On the Jukebox: "Changes" by David Bowie
Mood: Subject to change without notice
Quote: "Tears are words the heart can't express."
Flair: Warning

About a decade ago I saw the PCPA performance of Damn Yankees. I didn't particularly care for it. I prefer the original Faust. What did stay with me was the song "Whatever Lola Wants" where the sultry temptress is trying to convince Joe to throw away his old life and forget the escape clause in his deal with the devil. She sings the words:

Whatever Lola wants Lola gets,
Don't you know you can't win?
You're no exception to the rule,
I'm irresistible, you fool,
Give in!...Give in!...Give in!

Over time it has become a joke in our family that it is no use arguing with me. I will always get my way. It is rather disappointing to have no one occasionally challenge me (maybe a spirited debate is what I wanted?) and when my way is granted without a long discussion on why I'm right the phrase, "Whatever Somi wants, Somi gets..." usually is uttered or muttered depending on what it is I want. NOTE: Usually what I want is also what everyone else wants so I only think I win.

Yes, I'm a spoiled princess and rightly so! Yet, I like to think I have the makings of a great queen who understands the superior power of selflessness. For several years I have reigned over my little kingdom in a comfortable tract castle. My subjects adore me - okay, they tolerate me, whatever! I've got the best ladies-in-waiting just down the street. Life, though not quite fairytale idyllic is pretty darn sweet. But, alas, the warrior-king has grown restless with slaying tame dragons and is in need of a new adventure which may require a change of scenery.

Normally, that would be wonderful. I enjoy a good quest because happily ever after gets sort of boring. But like King Pellinore, I'm so comfortable in my feather bed. The warrior-king's questing beast has been sorely neglected of late. It may die soon if immediate action is not taken - or at least discussed seriously. So negotiations are under way on what sort of adventure we might consider. Will we part with the kingdom and go into exile? Will we find adventures closer to home? Or has the time come for Somi to be selfless?

Somi wants to weave tapestries of words in her ivory tower, not the ogre's dungeon. That's a fairly simple wish to grant and we all know whatever Somi wants... she gets to some degree. She's good at making concessions. Yes, she'll stay home and work at her language loom, but it may not be in this particular tract castle. Somi's man wants to chase wild dragons in the desert. You see, the thing that Somi wants most is to make her soul mate happy. It's sort of a sick twisted "Gift of the Magi" thing because he also desires her happiness. Don't fret, Somi likes happy endings so that's what Somi will get.

Reality TV & Other Trainwrecks

On the Jukebox: "November Rain" by Guns N' Roses
Mood: Tolerable
Quote: "For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbors and laugh at them in our turn?" ~ Jane Austen
Flair: Deluded singer

As stated previously, I'm the sort of person who enjoys observing others. At one time I considered becoming a psychologist and getting paid to observe and figure out people. It wasn't until after I got my degree that I concluded that most of us are a little crazy and that the truly mad people aren't fun to observe. So now I enjoy high-definition cable assisted voyeurism via reality TV shows. I never feel guilty about this because these people put their issues on display for the entire world. It's the equivalent of sticking a "Kick Me" sign on yourself.

I know that American Idol is a popular show but I've never watched a full season. It's too tame. I only watch the audition process because it's where the crazies are. Now I think quite a few people go on there intentionally trying to be the worst or most bizarre so that they will get air time. It's like a college frat house prank or something. But then there are those who have friends who have lied to them and now they are convinced that they are good at singing. Sadness! Perhaps more tragic (and much funnier) are those who have deluded themselves.

When the judges tell them the harsh truth (no honey no!) they have varying reactions. Some beg: "But this is my dream!", or "I know you can teach me to be the greatest singer in the world." or "I was just nervous, give me three more chances..." and then there are those who tell off the judges: "God will punish you." or "You'll be sorry when I'm famous." or "You don't know jack squat!" I feel sorry for the ones that had family members who tried to tell them and they took it as lack of support. What happens when they go home? Do they get a shoulder to cry on or the "I told you so" lecture?

What does this have to do with me? First of all I would never go on reality TV. I love to watch Survivor and Top Design but no way am I going to expose myself to ridicule via national television. I do a good job of embarrassing myself on a local level. I'm quite legendary at it. Which brings me to question, do I have friends that lie to me to spare my feelings??? I already know that I can't sing. But do they tell me I'm a fabulous writer when I'm audaciously mediocre? Hmmm... I am not so sure. There are many who look at me as though I am some uber talented alien from outer space. I think they secretly hate me but would gloat if they knew I can't even make Kool-aid. I also have friends who see me as an expert or authority on anything and everything. Yes, I'm brilliant. My GPA is a 3.98 (whoopee) but there are lots of things I know nothing about.

About two years ago an associate of mine asked if I would read his book because he knew I have undisputed wonderful taste and plenty of knowledge about literary type stuff. I said yes and boy did I regret it - because I believe in being honest. He enthusiastically handed me 250 pages of nonsense. I gallantly made an effort. I survived 17 pages of single spaced (gallies are supposed to be double spaced)text with no punctuation. There was no way to tell what was supposed to be dialogue and what was description. His plot was thin - a Harry Potter meets James Bond in a Clancy universe type story that he hoped to make a series. "No honey no!" I handed him back the 17 pages with notes and corrections and an example of proper formatting and told him I'd be happy to take another look once he got the mechanics corrected.He never asked me for help again. Hmmm...

I had another friend whose manuscript had already had an offer and when she let me read it I handed her 12 pages of notes on her book. She was hurt but also grateful. I caught lots of errors in continuity. (a man that turns into a woman within the space of three paragraphs) and asked questions about her character's motivations and the plausibility of the conflict. I liked her story and my notes were designed to be constructive criticism. She told me later how mad she was but then how after thinking it through she was grateful that someone had been honest with her. It was what she had been seeking from family and friends who were ill equipped for the job.

These two examples bring me back to my own work. Am I deluded that I can sell a book where the protagonist goes off to BYU and is pursued by serial killers with an axe to grind against her long dead ancestors? It sounds almost as bad as that kid spy novel doesn't it? Yet I have solicited various test readers who say they really like it. Are they the liars that let their friends go on reality TV shows? Or am I one of those who people who auditions that is surprised by the sincere delight of the judges because they recognize a great talent? Sometimes I don't know but more often I don't care. Now friends out there that have read my book, remember it's okay to say 'No, honey no!' just be prepared to back it up with examples which do not include this Blog.

Shoots & Latters

On the Jukebox: "Against the Wind" by Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band
Mood: Pensive
Idiom: Slippery Slopes
Flair: Trust

Today I've been thinking about slippery slopes in my life. You know, those precarious situations that often lead to eventual disaster. It doesn't matter how careful you are, sometimes such obstacles will lay in your path. It's part of life's journey. It's the approach you take to them that show your true character. Lately my path feels as though its covered in a perpetual sheet of ice and the wind is blowing hard. It makes me thankful to have the iron rod to hold onto.

I've been making great progress on ED Book 2 and that brings me satisfaction. Yet, I wonder if I should be doing something else with my time - like bringing in a paycheck somehow. I have complete faith and confidence that when my ED series is published it will be successful and it will make up for the fact that I've been living on Top Ramen for the last few month. I can't say that I'm a starving artist, just one that craves gourmet meals.

What does this have to do with slippery slopes and choices? Well, my line of thinking is this: If I get a 'real job' I'll be drained of all creativity and joy (learned this from past experience)and will not get around to finishing my books. If I continue to ignore our finances and continue to write all day long, we might get into debt. So far we've been careful and there has been balance, but I sense that I'm teetering on the brink of disaster BUT which is it? Loss of financial security or loss of creative freedom? There isn't a middle ground in this scenario.

I tell myself to keep going. Keep writing because it makes me so happy and that it will pay off eventually. I would feel empty if at the end of my life all I had to show for it was a 401K. If my stories died with me that would be sad - maybe not a huge loss for humanity in general, but like burying the one talent the master entrusted to me and having him take it back because I was a slothful servant.

Everyone has ups and downs in life's journey so I know I'm not alone. I've had some set backs lately but the game isn't over yet. I'm heading forward in the direction of my dreams. Onward and upward!

Scared Witless

On the Jukebox: "Rock Lobster" by the B-52's
Mood: tense
Quote: "Give ya a dollar if ya shut that dude's tank." ~ J.T. '07
Flair: OK!

Have you ever had someone who thought it was amusing to see you suffer? I'm not talking about a sadistic boss who heaps on the extra work just hours before you're supposed to take a vacation. That's a natural boss type thing. No, I'm talking about a person whose supposed to have your back and for some reason takes advantage of your trusting nature and the fact that you don't believe in killing. I'm talking about a spouse who delights in scaring you because they think it's hilarious when you jump a mile high or almost pee yourself.

I've had several EKGs in the past few years and Doctors (what do they know?) tell me I have a strong heart. This is great news except that I get severe chest pains and shortness of breath on a regular basis. I'm afraid that one day I'll actually suffer a heart attack and my husband will find that amusing too. I ask him repeatedly not to sneak up on me, but the guy's part ninja. I'm going to buy a cowbell and put it around his neck. I mean I put belled collars on my cats and they don't scare me, so there's something to that.

The issue stems from the fact that I get so into my work - especially writing or research, that I tend to block out other stimuli. This means I don't hear distractions like my cell phone, door bell, TV in the family room, hungry cats, or the garage door opening. The only sound I hear is the clickity clicking of my keyboard as I work and occasionally a little background music. Then without sudden warning my husband will materialize at my side and whisper "What are you doing?" or something of the like into my ear and I nearly bite my tongue off. He walks away very satisfied. I wish I could say that one scare a day was enough or that I would learn to be more vigilant. Just when I let me guard down and think the coast is going to be clear he'll appear like clockwork.

It's a gift, but it gives me the jibblies. I've noticed that the streak of gray in my hair has become more pronounced in the past few years. I'm sure there's a connection. My only consolation is that I've recently concluded that he acts out in this manner because he misses me and comes to remind me that he exists or maybe that his food dish is empty. (It's what the cats do.)

10 Random Things I Miss

On the Jukebox: "Once in a Lifetime" by Talking Heads
Mood: under the weather
Quote: "There's always room in the chess club."
Flair: WWSD?

I'm not feeling so good, so I'm just going to go with a random 10 pack today.

1) Deep Thoughts by Jack Handy
2) Strawberry 3 Musketeers Bars
3) A good night's sleep (a solid 8 1/2 hrs)
4) Pink heart shaped sugar cookies for breakfast on Valentine's Day
5) Kid fears/ innocence
6) Friends I've lost contact with
7) Lady Diana on all the tabloids
8) My favorite Santa Cruz yellow sweater from the 7th grade
9) Scripted television
10) Days when I took my health for granted

Oh yeah, that other Blog...

On the Jukebox: "What Heaven Sees In You" by Joy Gardner
Mood: Good!
Quote: "Be Grateful..." ~ Gordon B. Hinckley
Flair: Thought provoking

Not much to say today. I've got a lesson I need to prepare for. Why yes, I do procrastinate. Isn't that what Sunday mornings are for when you have afternoon church? I worked hard this week to finish the overhaul on my Friends-Tribute Blog. I think it turned out really cute. As promised, I've posted my first spotlight. Maybe next week it will be you. Enjoy!

http://each-life-that-touches-ours-for-good.blogspot.com

Behind the Fuchsia Door

On the Jukebox: "Don't Get Me Wrong" by the Pretenders
Mood: Fair partly cloudy
Quote: "Never judge a book by its cover."
Flair: Creme Brulee


Two women at a wedding are conversing. One says to the other, "Look there's the wedding planner. She must lead such a romantic life." They're glancing in the direction of a poised and sophisticated career woman. Then the scene cuts to the wedding planner after her long work day. She's wearing old sweats and eating a frozen dinner in front of the the TV set. Romantic and glamorous? It all depends on what you see.

How is this applicable to me? Perhaps the only glimpse some people have of me is when I'm 'dressed for success' so to speak. I know I'm on display so I behave the way I'm expected to for the occasion. If it's a work event I'm professional, if it's a family function I'm casual, if it's church thing that I'm not in charge of I'm supportive - and if I am in charge I'm dependable.

I'm a multi-faceted person so each of these glimpses will reveal truth, but not necessarily the entire picture of who I am. There are people who think I'm extroverted and vivacious when really I'm not. They just happen to be around when that's the expectation I need to meet. My true nature is introverted but I have great range. I'm a busy person so not many people are given the opportunity to really get to know me. This leads to all sorts of amusing stories.

Take this one for example:

A few years ago I lived in another town where we built a home in a starter neighborhood (big mistake but that's another post)... I was busy holding down a full time job and attending school full time as well as serving in the Primary presidency. I was stretched very thin during those years in all ways except my physical body (drat!) I didn't have a lot of time for socializing with my new neighbor or ward members. Most didn't care to get to know me and that was fine. I had a great visiting teaching companion - who knew me well and she shared with me a story.

She had attended some sort of home party where you could buy food storage products (only in Utah, right?) and the demonstrator was putting some pressure on her hostess to increase her sales by taking brochures around to her neighbors who didn't attend - especially those who might have higher disposable incomes. Immediately several ladies suggested me because in their eyes I was the ultimate DINK (double income no kids.) My companion proceeded to tell me the weird and amusing speculation about me.

The first thing that baffled these ladies was my resistance to conformity. My house was a landmark in the neighborhood because I had paid extra to have my bay window peaked and one of my front bedrooms bumped out. I didn't want a flat cracker box. To top it all off had my door painted burgundy. Except the paint wasn't mixed right and it came out a bit brighter like a lipstick fuchsia. No problem, I worked around it with my landscaping. It looks really nice and you can see it on my photo gallery blog.

Any way these ladies wanted to know what sort of woman paints her door that color? Some had been brave enough to sneak a peek through my bay window when there weren't any cars in the driveway (we didn't have a garage.) They reported to the others the impression of my formal living room with the faux painted accent wall and glass curio full of art pieces and elegant tapestry covered furnishings. This small glimpse coupled with the nice church wardrobe (it doubled for work) gave them a faulty impression.

This woman ate off of her wedding china with lit candles regularly. She would never wear a mu mu to do chores - she would have a maid to clean her house that was never dirty any way. She probably went to the opera or ballet (true) and didn't enjoy TV or sports (not true!) She never went to Wal-mart and bought everything at full price without batting an eyelash. So not true! Furthermore, she didn't like children and was more interested in the things of the world than in the joys of motherhood. Ouch!

If they had held up a mirror for me to see what they saw I wouldn't recognize myself. I am not who they saw. I long for children. Nearly my entire wardrobe is comprised from things on clearance racks. I scrub my own toilets (probably not as often as needed)... I eat PB&Js and like macaroni and cheese. I don't even own wedding china! Furthermore we didn't have a disposable income. We were paying off cars, the house, student loans, and medical expenses. We were saving for IVF and the pricey fertility drugs it required because our insurance didn't cover it. We got free tickets to the ballet. We attended free concerts because they fit our budget. We got $1 movies rather than going out.

But of course they can't see what's really going on behind the fuchsia door. It's like in The Wizard of OZ when Toto pulls back the curtain to reveal Henry Gale instead of the mighty OZ. What you see may not be the whole truth. I've never tried to be something I'm not, but often that's how I am portrayed in the minds of others.

I (heart) Randomness!

On the Jukebox: "Hands" by Jewel
Mood: Indigo (ala Duke Ellington)
Quote: "I love Lucy!" - "Who doesn't she's hilarious!"
Flair: Spaghetti cat


I love randomness. It's hard to think of anything that epitomizes this more than the ridiculous clip of spaghetti cat that suddenly and without explanation preempted another show. Check it out on Youtube sometime. So what else is random? Me breaking out into smokin' hot solos for the benefit of my coworkers - to be fair, I thought I was alone on the cube farm. Not satisfied? How about getting an ant farm or a sea monkey castle for your B-day? Or standing in line behind Al Gore in the Costco or maybe it was a guy who just looked like him (but he was buying energy saving light bulbs and a case of cheese whiz... you have to admit that's pretty random!)

I love the random play option on my Jukebox. Where else are you going to get such an eclectic variety of music? I may hear a sublime aria one moment and Beasty Boys the next - there's just no telling. I've decided that people are often like my Jukebox or maybe a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get. Life's just better with a few nuts because it brings out the sweetness. Of course it goes without saying that I'm sweet and not a nut or a monkey. Just thought I'd better clear that up.

Cookie Cutter Characters

On the Jukebox: "Island in the Sun" by Weezer
Mood: Optimistic
Advice: Never lick a flyswatter
Flair: Chicken Butt

Do you wanna know a pet peeve of mine? Too bad, I'm telling you anyway. I hate when I read a book or watch a movie or TV show and the character is so cliche. Sometimes I can predict what they're going to say. This is no credit to my great skill as a writer, rather that the person who wrote the character was lazy. They didn't reach for a fresh take on the archetype. They didn't twist or exaggerate for a more interesting effect. Boo!

Recently I've gotten back into watching "NCIS" on USA. Now some of their plots are razor thin and could be something I saw on "Murder She Wrote","Matlock","Monk", or one of the other show these are cloned from... but I am amazed at how much I like the characters. They are complicated in wonderful ways and their dialogue often surprises me. Sure, they look cookie cutter characters at first - but there are many layers to them. It's yummy the way the details have been sprinkled in. Let's examine a few...

Forensic Specialist Abby Sciuto: Her archetype is the Liberian with dashes of Spunky kid and Free spirit. I love her goth wardrobe and the fact that she not only goes to church but is on a bowling team with nuns. And who doesn't love the caf-pow addiction, farting stuffed hippo, and how she gives all her machines names and ranks?

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo: He's the combo archetype of the Charmer and the Swashbuckler. A good lookin', wise crackin', well dressed, smart ass that you can't help but like anyway. Tony loves his wardrobe almost as much as he loves the ladies. He can be prissy, condescending, and insecure which I find very entertaining.

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs: Definitely the archetype of Chief with a sprinkle of Lost Soul and Warrior. He's the best at what he does because he doesn't give up. He's stoic - he feels deeply but bottles his emotions. The others see him a father figure. What keeps his character fresh is his failed marriages, boat building skills, and the mystery of what he does in his personal life away from the office.

Chief Medical Examiner Ducky Mallard: The Professor archetype through and through. The twist is that he comes across as classy and brainy. I like that he has to deal with an aging mother and her dogs. He restored his Morgan. He wears quirky hats and likes to go off on avante-garde topics of conversation. This guy will kick your butt in Jeopardy but then pay for dinner afterwards.

Special Agent Tim McGee: The Professor meets Best Friend as archetype. He's the beta hero. Always underestimated, but reliable. The plucky comic relief. Yes, he's a geek at core and the others tease him about his lack of assertiveness, yet he still gets the girls. He just doesn't kiss and tell.

I also love that they're not soapy the way some other shows are. I can't watch "Without a Trace" because I just want to slap those people around. Solve the mystery and stay out of each other's bedrooms. If I wanted that kind of show I'd watch more reality TV! I want a TV show where I can like the characters but their lives don't get in the way of telling the story. This way I can stop by and visit when I have a moment without being lost in the secondary storyline. If you miss an episode or season of "NCIS" it doesn't matter, where you'd be lost if you tried that with "Lost" - which also blurs the lines on archetype characters. Who's a good guy and who's a bad guy? I guess it depends on what season. That's how real life is, we all have flaws and strengths.

16 Random Facts About Me

On the Jukebox: "Playdough" by the AquaBats
Mood: Borderline grouchy - not enough sleep
Quote: "Wish Cotton was a monkey!" from the Little Rascals
Flair: Clickity Keys

Debby Scharff, one of my friends, recently posted 16 things about herself to her FaceBook page. She asked 16 other people to do the same. It sounded like fun, but being as far behind the power curve as I have been recently, I decided to make this my Blog post for the day. So here you go 16 things you probably didn't want to know about me:

1) I'm diabetic.
2) I love the smell of 'Raspberry & Thyme' candles from Partylite.
3) I own (or belong to) 14 or more Blogs.
4) I was mentored by Piers Anthony & Becky Daniel - two wonderful writers.
5) I've lived in 48 different houses.
6) I have 3 cats, but don't like other people's pets.
7) I danced ballet for 16 years and I still have my toe shoes.
8) I hate mushrooms with a passion. They're my personal kyptonite.
9) I own over 2000 rubber stamps - but usually end up using the same 150.
10) I wish I was 1/2 inch taller. I'd add it to between my hips and waistline.
11) Although my table manners are impeccable, I dislike eating in large public gatherings. I'm a slow eater and can't talk and eat at the same time.
12) I think the scariest man alive, who is not a mass murder or a politician, is Richard Simmons. That dude seriously gives me the jibblies!!!
13) An Ethan Allen bedroom set was part of my marriage agreement.
14) I'm so NOT a phone person, but I'll talk your ear off in person.
15) I own a set of encyclopedias so I read them to get my money's worth.
16) The State of CA wouldn't let me get the vanity plate 'BEEBARF' but approved my other option 'DMVSUX'(Barf is a vulgar word but apparently sucks isn't???)

My Surprise Party

On the Jukebox: "Rainy Monday" by Shiny Toy Guns
Mood: Satisfactory
Quote: "I have no greater joy than to hear that my children walk in truth." John 1:4
Flair: Defence or Excuse?

Yesterday I planned to get a lot done. I've had the Part 2 of Book 2 outlined for sometime. I was eager to get started because I just got to a chapter that has some fast paced action which I've been looking forward to writing for ages. Then something strange and wonderful happened: My day got completely derailed in the most unexpected and delightful way.

I woke up around 4:30 AM and for some reason I started thinking about FaceBook and the list of people I periodically search for. I try to reconnect with at least one old friend per week. That's not too hard to do when you've lived in as many places as I have, I fish in plentiful waters. There have been several people lately who keep coming to the forefront of my thoughts. It's so hard to find them because 1) I don't recognize photos 2) I can't always spell their names correctly - some have married or divorced or go by nicknames so how am I supposed to know who's who?

After a time I drifted back to sleep and dreamed that I was back in Santa Maria working once more in the youth program - which is one of my fondest experiences regarding church callings. There are two sets of youth that I absolutely adore. One are the kids from Carthage branch the others are from SM 2nd Ward. (These were the days when I was still young enough to relate to teenagers and for them to want to turn out something like me.) Recently, I found the majority of my young women from New York and decided that it was time to find my California girls.

There was something I wanted to give them. I had been hoarding a treasure for years that would be multiplied if I could find a way to share it with them. In my possession, is a huge stash of never-before-seen photographs and video footage starring these kids. Often I thought about dividing up the pictures - but that posed problems: Who would get a picture if it had more than one girl or boy in it? Not to mention that the photo looses context when separated from the group. I couldn't afford to get the 100s of pictures copied for each person. (This was before digital soft copies.)

Fast forward 13 years and the solution presented itself in the form of FaceBook and I knew I needed to collect this set of friends. I was fortunate to come across one of them on another friend's page. After sleuthing I had a small handful. So I posted the first picture to lure the others out of hiding. I was unprepared for the results. Within the space of three short hours my friend count had gone up and my page was a blur of activity. If this had happened with just one picture what would happen when I got around to scanning and uploading the rest? I planned to do it later (say next week, next month, or next year) but then I realized how much time had already passed by and that the time had come to act.

So I took the day off of work. (Being self-employed I have a very understanding boss and besides it was my birthday.) I scanned 104 photos and still have a stack of about 50 or 60 more left to do. There are quite a few that need to be cropped and commented on. Now, I'm not sure what the current rate of exchange is on time and things being worth it, but I can say that this is a labor intensive project but not once did I feel like I was squandering it. It was such a treat to see my kids again and know that I was able to make them smile. It was the least I can do for them because they'll never know what a blessing they were to me and how very much I needed them at that particular time in my life.

To the kids of SM2, if you ever read this, I want you to know how much I love each and every one of you. Thank you for everything. Thanks for TPing my house in at 2AM, thanks for baking goodies and ditching them on the doorstep, thanks for bringing me presents on my B-day, thanks for letting me teach you, thanks for putting up with me when I was teaching the songs for the roadshow - yes I know I can't sing, thanks for helping with my projects, thanks for thinking I was cool enough to talk to, thanks for the memories.

Growing up I always wanted a surprise party on my birthday. I just never imagined that I'd be hosting my own - now that's a surprise!!! I didn't write a single word in chapter 14, nevertheless I had a very rewarding day.

Wiser, but not Older

On the Jukebox: "Sweet Sixteen" by Billy Idol
Mood: Ambivalent about aging
Advice: "Tell people you're older than you are. You'll always look fabulous for your age!" (it's been my beauty secret for years!)
Flair: Birthday bonus - in honor of the one who understands best

Why is it that when they drag the primary teachers up to recognize their B-days they always sing the song "You've had a birthday - shout hooray!" and then they like to emphasize the one year older part...? Grrr! I guess if they really wanted to make me feel old they would sing "Happy Happy Birthday Children Dear" because that is OLD school.

I generally hate my birthdays because of the following reasons:

1) It is often the day that you go back to school or work after Christmas break. This makes it impossible for people to tell I am wearing my new B-day duds as opposed to clothes I got for Christmas. Everyone is sporting new stuff. LAME!!!

2) Everyone is tapped out from buying Christmas gifts so people skip my party so they don't have to get me anything or they give me a combined Christmas/B-day present. When relatives do this it is unfair because I still get a 'cross stitched kangaroo in a hoop' while my brothers (whose B-days are spread out through the year) get an action figure for Christmas and another for their B-day. Again LAME!!!

3) It is inevitably forgotten about because it sneaks up on everyone - every year mine was the only birthday that did not get doughnuts in seminary. Friends used to give me cards 3 weeks late and claim they were lost/forgotten about in their lockers. It's not about cards or presents, it's about feeling special. LAME!!!

4) Fires and other natural disasters. My mother canceled my surprise party for my 16th B-day due to a storm warning (yes, a tropical storm in New Orleans in January!) But perhaps more disappointing was the fact that the guy I wanted my sweet 16 kiss from was invited and would've come (but let's face it, he wouldn't have kissed me...) Repeat after me: LAME!!!

"What about the fires?" - I'll tell you more later.

In order to combat the above mentioned B-day related problems I went out and recruited a soul mate who would understand these unique B-day related issues. That's right, the man of my dreams has the same B-day. Now we take turns aging. Every other year it is my turn to have a cake, although sometimes Grant makes a 1/2 & 1/2 B-day cake (that's half chocolate cake with chocolate frosting for him and half white cake with chocolate frosting for me.) He thinks it's unfair to have to make his own B-day cake and I can't blame him. Another perk of having a spouse with the same B-day is that he never forgets mine unless I forget his. How very reasonable!

Remember what I said before about people who combine Christmas and B-day gifts? Funny thing. It's happened more than once that we've gotten a card that says "Merry Christmas/Happy B-day to the two of you" Really? You couldn't spring for 3 cards? Better yet, they combine the gift BUT it is for both of us for both occasions. The only time this was acceptable was when Grant's parents gave us a computer and printer and the card said "Merry Christmas/Happy Birthday/Happy Anniversary for the next 5 years." And they meant it! Again, how very reasonable!

I'll tell you right now that so far this is the oldest I've ever been. Now, I've heard that saying for many years about how you're only as old as you feel: What a crock!!! Lately, due to health issues, I feel about 70 years old. BUT a 17 yr. old is trapped in that 70 yr. old body. I've been 17 for many years now. I should probably mention that when I actually was 17, people said I was an old soul trapped in a young body. At the time, 30 was OLD, so now I'm about my natural age if you average these ages together. Perfecto!

This is the year that I'll finally turn 30. I've been told that 40 is the new 30 so that makes 30 the new 21. What you don't believe I'm 30 this year? All right, I'm not. I've been celebrating my 29th B-day for many many years. This was for several reasons. 1) people under 30 don't trust/understand people older than 30 (and vice-versa)and 2) I had certain life goals that needed to be accomplished by 32 and being 29 over and over again helped me feel like I might actually complete them on time. (More about that some other time) This goes right into why I don't make New Year's resolutions and set silly goals. It's funny when I tell people I'm celebrating my 10th annual 29th B-day this year. First they try to do the math... but they usually get it wrong because they forget to count the original 29th B-day. Most decide it's not worth the effort to understand because they get that age is a relative thing - only your relatives know how old you really are.

Would you believe the real reason I don't want to age is because I'm afraid of fire? On more than one occasion, I have caught fire on my birthday. I am an expert in stop drop and roll. Ask me another time and I will tell you what happened the year I turned 16. I can't listen to "Sixteen Candles" without having post traumatic stress flashbacks. Getting older means more candles and thus more risk of burning. That's why every year I get better but not older.

My Sunday Activities

On the Jukebox: "Variations on an English Melody: If You Could Hie to Kolob" by Lex De Azevedo
Mood: Tranquil
Scripture: "O be wise; what can I say more?" Jacob 6:12
Flair: Zombie

This morning as I was laying in bed staring at the ceiling, I pondered why Sundays - which I love, are so hard for me. It's because I try to set them apart from other days of the week. I only allow myself to listen to sacred music and do spiritually uplifting activities. The other six days of the week it's pretty much a given that I'll be down in my basement office tapping away on the keyboard. I average 10 pages a day on my latest book, along with various articles, research papers, and Blog entries. It's my job you know, so that means I shouldn't do it on Sunday.

Is it possible to write and keep the Sabbath day holy? Absolutely! Start by writing letters to your grandparents (mine are dead), missionaries, and local editors. Not a letter writer? Then it's okay to Blog... just be sure to discuss things that are acceptable like your favorite scripture, the gospel doctrine lesson, or something insightful you learned at last General Conference. Do I detect the sound of snoring? How rude! There are times when I do want to discuss such topics, however, I have decided to dedicate my Sunday posts to something else which is also uplifting but not as deep.

You see, I've got another Blog (no, really?!) and I've decided to give it a nice overhaul. I've pulled all the posts back into the draft folder so I can organize them and give them unified formatting and maybe talk Grant into customizing my template. The Blog is called "Each Life That Touches Ours For Good" and was created as a place where I could honor people who have taught me the importance of friendship through their patience examples. Throughout my life I've been blessed with choice experiences, both great and small, that have impacted how I see myself and others. Often I lack the courage (for fear of embarrassing myself or them) to tell these people what they mean to me or how their actions have changed me for the better. So I felt a Blog was a nice solution.

Now I have to figure out how I'm going to reorganize my posts. Should I go by their B-day, length of friendship, alphabetical, strength of bond, a trait I admire, whether I have a picture of them to post or a funny anecdote about them, or something else? Maybe people may be offended if I don't spotlight them individually, but this it was never meant to be an ego-stroker so much as an exploration of how my personality and outlook on life evolved as a direction result of knowing them. I'll do my first spotlight next Sunday and post the link to that Blog. BTW, I've already chosen the person I'm going to spotlight first so don't bother to kiss up ;)

Here Be Dragons...

On the Jukebox:"What Do You Do in the Summertime?" by Inside Out Acapella
Mood: umm, lukewarm? (Warm heart, cold appendages)
Quote:"Sometimes there are no answers." - Saphira Brightscales
Flair:Trogdor the Burninator

In medieval times mapmakers used to draw dragons on the edges on their parchment maps to denote danger and unknown territories to be explored at one's own risk. When they reached the world's edge they wrote, "Here be dragons!" Such is my life as a primary teacher at the beginning of the new year with a new class. I am handed a roster replete with tiny dragons and told to sally forth, tame them, and give them some religious training.

Easier said than done! When it comes to "Dealing With Dragons" and children I confess that I am out of my depths. Sure, I've taught for many years in various capacities, both professionally and as a volunteer. I like children and shocking as it may seem - I even used to be one, though even then I didn't understand children and preferred the company of adults. Many many years later I still don't understand them any better. Yes, I have read Erikson and Piaget. I am versed in love and logic, but Madam Montessori I'm not! Once my concrete reasoning skills kicked in I have had trouble relating to creatures with less developed minds that can not comprehend abstract thoughts and a large vocabulary. What's worse is now I'm prohibited from using treats to tame them. Every dragon trainer worth their salt knows how vital the bribery of food can be.

"Why don't you understand children?" you ask...

First of all I don't speak their language. Need proof?
Here's a real life example from a lesson on forgiving others:

Sister B. "We should be magnanimous and not hold grudges."
Dragon-Child #1 "Huh, what does that mean?"
Sister B. "Being noble of spirit and generous."
(insert sound of chirping crickets and vacant blinking eyes)
Dragon-Child #2 "Grudge taste good. Sometimes my mom makes peanut butter grudge."
Sister B. "No, no! Not fudge, grudge - an ill feeling."
Dragon-Child #3 "Grudge makes me ill. This one time I threw up in my sister's hat - but she was nice and forgave me."
Sister B. "Yes, that's right. That's the point I was trying to make. We should be kind and forgive others their trespasses."
Dragon-Child #2 "It's okay if we cut through the yard, my dad doesn't care."

Fast-forward a few years down the road, another class, another valiant effort:
Sister B. "So you see sisters, we should be magnanimous to our family as well as to our friends and strangers...."
RS Sisters "Huh?"

I do however know one simple truth, which is you can't teach those that you don't love. "People don't care how much you know until they know how much you care." Is a common saying, but have you ever wondered why? Because it's true, duh! Jesus was the master teacher and before he taught anyone he showed his unconditional love for them. That's a sure fire way to tame a dragon even without a pocket full of sweets.

Footnote: "What's up with Trogdor? I've noticed you have this image on the back window of your SUV."
Ah! Glad you asked. I love dragons or didn't I make that point clear? Of course I don't collect them or anything. I'm not a dungeons and dragons level geek, my fantasy is strictly urban based stuff. Any who, my car's name is Lizzie after the giant green Godzilla dragon monster in the 80's video game "RAMPAGE" - which is like totally awesome. I thought the Trogdor sticker decal was fitting. Plus I used to have the Trogdor ring tone on my phone before I got a new one. It was fun to watch people's reactions to it.

Watch the Trogdor episode of Homestarrunner here:http://www.homestarrunner.com/sbemail58.html

It's in the Genes

On the Jukebox: "Out of my Head" by Fastball
Mood: Tolerable, but highly suitable to a Rant
Quote: "No stupider than acid wash." SLN ad for 3 legged jeans.
Flair: Gene Pool


What's the deal with jeans these days?

I can't find any that make my butt look good. I've learned to live with that because it's wider than it used to be. What I have a hard time dealing with is the fact that hardly anyone looks good in jeans anymore. It's not because they have lumpy bodies, but rather the fact that the fashion industry has conspired to mislabel all the pants and quit making them to fit real people.

Oh sure, the fashion industry has always "cutting edge" coming up with all sorts of wacky ways to get us to buy new dungarees. They create fads like bell bottoms, hip huggers, and the infamous Wranger butt. These are fine, but how about a little choice for people like me who are 1) short and don't want to roll their pants up 2)old enough that now the "Mom" jeans (that SNL spoofed) look appealing?

I spent the better part of a long weekend searching for a pair of jeans that would fit decently. No luck. If they fit all right in the store, after a few wearing the Lycra stretched to the point where I couldn't keep them on my waistline. I was afraid to go back for the smaller size because if they didn't stretch to my expectation I wouldn't be able to breath - Heaven help me if I sneeze! Did I mention that the jeans I can't keep on my hips are labeled 3 sizes smaller than the tightest pair of jeans in my closet? How random is that?

Guys are lucky. They go into a store, walk up to the shelf, select the measurements (30 x 33) or something to that affect and buy them. They don't even have to try them on! Perhaps the worst thing about modern jeans is that the promote gender confusion. Lately I've seen so many (what I believe to be) young men walking around in pants I discarded about 20 years ago. I'm sure you've seen them too. The kids in the EMO skinny jeans, which must have come from the Misses department of Sears. I thought nothing could be worse than the baggy, belt around the bottom of your butt and show the world your boxers look but I was wrong. Then came the hip huggers (ala muffin tops) with show the world your thong, but this latest fad.... I don't want to know what's in your pockets and I especially don't like the way they make you look like you have load in your pants. Why??? Why must you wear them so low? Is it so you don't look like a member of Aerosmith or another 80's rocker? I don't get it! If you were my kid, I'd force you to dress like Wally Cleaver or some other clean cut youngster.

Ack! When did I get old? I was in the commissary the other day and this teenage guy? passed me in the drink aisle. It was all I could do to restrain myself from exclaiming, "Oh my gosh, you look just like my senior picture!" because I'm sure he would have been wounded for life. So I make this plea to all children born after 1990 - leave your parent's clothes alone. Leave them their Guess! and their Jordache, and even their childhood Toughskins. Leave them their kindergarten Bobby Brady haircuts. Leave them back their Pink Floyd, Led Zepplin, and NKOTB concert T's, and one more thing: Please give us back our MTV!!!