C'est Fini

On Saturday I packed up my laptop and hauled it Borders on West End.

Now, the problem with the little café at this Borders is that Vanderbilt University is right behind it, so every college student who actually studies on a Saturday manages to be in there. And that means all the outlets are usually taken. I found one next to a fluffy chair, which wasn’t ideal as it meant typing with the laptop on my actual lap, which causes it to overheat and is not at all comfortable, but I made do.

I got distracted at first by a somewhat handsome guy who was dressed in loose khaki linen pants and a breezy island type of top with rubber flip-flops and carefully tousled hair. The outfit was so clearly designed to look not put together that it was obvious he had labored over the entire combination. I watched him successfully hit on the MBA student sitting next to me. They managed to chat for two hours.

Then I watched three girls from somewhere that was definitely not America greet a friend with curious left-right-left cheek kisses. I counted. Three kisses for each friend. No less, no more. I considered what type of reaction this would generate if I tried it with my own friends and decided they would mostly recoil is shock, surprise, and in one particular case, probably horror.

After considering the state of my nails, whether or not the couple sitting in front of me were really a couple or just study buddies, and whether I had just the right lighting for optimum typing, I dove in.

And folks, I did it. I finally finished a novel. Mind you, this is only the first draft. There are rewrites and revisions to come. But I did it. I didn’t think I had it in me. But lo and behold, it was there.

And I would be remiss if I did not give thanks to my Younger Bro who, three years ago, showed up on my doorstep at midnight with a small black cat and an endless supply of Buffy the Vampire Slayer DVDs. He introduced me to NaNoWriMo and has prodded, and poked, and encouraged, and wouldn’t let it rest.

If it weren’t for him, I would still be sitting here thinking that “some day” I might get serious about writing. Thanks to him I finally threw off the bowlines and headed for the open water.

And I'm so glad I did.

Friday's Fluff

Just some lessons learned, observations, and what I think I would refer to as "Brain Lint."

1. Every person’s writing could use a good editor.

2. If chaperoning a youth group trip, always bring extra towels, socks, shirts, and an extra pair of shoes and flip-flops. However, these are not for you, and you will likely never see them again.

3. How carsick a kid gets is in direct proportion to how isolated an area you are in.

4. If you put your car in drive, and nothing happens, and then in reverse, and nothing happens, and then in any other gear, and nothing happens – you may just have a car problem there, my friend.

5. The more fancy the cell phone – the more likely it is that you will drop it immediately after receiving it.

6. It is possible to vacuum an entire living room carpet with a handheld DustBuster. Not ergonomically friendly, mind you, but possible.

7. No one looks very good on cell phone cameras.

8. It is a universal fact that the phone will ring right in the middle of your favorite TV program. It will never ring in the middle of unloading the dishwasher.

9. Never put your sports bra in the dryer on the “high heat” setting.

10. It's amazing that a person who is only 21 inches long and weighs roughly 8 pounds, and who cannot speak a word, is capable of getting exactly what it wants, when it wants it, regardless of the time of day or the schedules of anyone else concerned, yet will not incur the ill will of anyone against him or her.

In the Moment

Last night I lay on the carpet in my bedroom, feet propped up on the bed at a 90-degree angle, left hand gently petting Hamish. I was exhausted. I bought a car yesterday, after 23 days of auto-related torture. It’s a nice little 2003 Honda Civic HX black two-door coupe. I hope drive it until the wheels fall off.

I lay there and chatted with Younger Bro, who was also flopped down on the rug with his feet up on the bed (we had a minor argument about him removing his shoes – I won) and chatted about our day. It reminded me of how many times I’ve talked with roommates, friends, Mom and Dad, and so many others in odd positions.

Not for me the cozy comfort of a plush armchair. No, I usually end up sitting on top of a kitchen counter, on a tile floor or, in many situations, sitting on the edge of the tub to have good long yap with my roomie or my mother as they put on makeup or fixed their hair.

My best friend and I, when we lived together, often ended up on the stairs at the end of the night. I would be on my way to bed and we would start talking and then an hour later I would say, “I’ve really got to get in bed,” and she would say, “Me, too,” and then we would keep talking while our bodies were sprawled at awkward angles to accommodate the small landing. It never occurred to us to move the conversation to a place more comfortable.

I have talked to people in the freezing cold just because I knew if we moved into warmth the moment would be gone forever. And I have sat in my driveway talking on my cell phone long after I arrived home because I didn’t want to let that person go.

The relationships I have with people I try to hold in high esteem. I try to honor them and give the time and attention they need – like special flowers that need tending to. I’m not the best at it, but I try. And it makes life a little more interesting.

Joy in the Valley

I guess it's fairly obvious that things have been a little rough lately. The stress of this car situation (update - the "new" car I bought is a lemon, so we are trying to get my money back on it and I still don't have a car), the possible loss of all that hard-earned money, and some other factors in life are kicking me to the curb at the moment. Stress causes you to do weird things, like forget you put your debit card and driver's license in your jeans pocket for a hockey game one evening and then think you've been robbed when you can't find them in your wallet the next day. Or go to tap class, do a move, and then completely blank out on the routine. I simply stood there, facing wrong direction, trying to figure out what was going on.

Sooo... I haven't really reacted well to all of this, but I do want to thank those of you who read and comment because you all are such an encouragement to me. I used to think blogging was a great way to try to sharpen my writing skills. Now I know the truth - it's free therapy.

Anyway, in the midst of all this yuckiness there has been a bright spot, a new little life who came into the world this past Thursday at 12:20 p.m. This is Madelynne Celeste, my best friend's little girl, and when I held her all the other stresses in life just melted away.

I Could Sleep Forever

Recently, an acquaintance told me she had a conversation with some old friends of mine, who asked about me.

“They asked me if you were married, and I told them no,” she explained, with a sad look on her face.

“And then they asked me if you had any prospects, and I told them I didn’t think so,” she looked at me with a little frown. “And then she said, ‘That’s such a shame, because she’s so sweet. I don’t know why she isn’t married.’”

While I appreciate the fact that I am, indeed, “sweet,” which is much better than being classified as, oh, “bitter,” that dreaded phrase “I don’t know why you aren’t married yet” is not quite the compliment I think some people believe it to be.

I know it is meant, in all innocence, as more of a “You’re a great catch,” but to the single (or at least this single) there is an unspoken fear that, deep down, there is something wrong with you. That somewhere along the way I screwed things up. I didn’t pray hard enough; I overlooked someone. I wasn’t thin enough, pretty enough, or congenial enough. I was too independent, too talkative, too quiet, too outgoing, too short, too fat, too curly-haired, too spiritual, too worldly, too, too, too….

It messes with my mind. It makes me doubt myself and worse, it makes me doubt God’s plans for my life. I feel like the leftover, the forgotten, the one who must always plaster a smile on her face as she sits at dinner with all her couple friends once again and pretend everything is all okay. And frankly, there are moments when it is just not.

Compared to the problems other people have I know this is tiny, nothing, miniscule. It’s just my little bundle of sticks to carry. But at the moment, I’m tired just so tired of carrying them.

Decaffeinated

This morning, our coffee pot is missing. We aren't sure what happened to it, but I didn't realize how much I relied on that little cup in the morning to get me going. It's a simple pleasure I look forward to, and at the moment it is gone.

I am now hyper-sensitive to my rumbly tummy. And could that be the faintest whisper of a caffeine headache? I believe it is. My eyelids are beginning to close. My copywriting is suffering. The sharpness, the wit, the creative inspiration - it is nowhere to be found. What shall I do? This is an awful way to begin my Tuesday. I thought my trials last week would break me, but this, this my friends, may very well prove to be my undoing...

Hey! I just remembered I have some tea bags in my desk. Hurrah!
Whew. Disaster averted.
Excuse me.