Sunday:

I was giving the Boy a bath before we went to 6 p.m. Mass. It was a lovely evening here and our neighbors were outside on their back patio watching the Saints game (apparently). Our bathroom window looks out on a fence that separates our property from theirs. We couldn’t see them but we could hear yelling and after a moment, I realized they must have been cheering the game as I couldn’t hear every word, but I’d hear “Stop him” or “get the ball.”

The Boy kept asking me what was going on over there. I told him they were having fun watching the game and they weren’t bothering anyone.

I was letting him play in the tub a bit – he has an amazing collection of yellow rubber ducks – and I sat just outside the door on my bed reading. Finally, it was time to get him out and I went into the bathroom again.

“Maybe it’s my imagination,” he said.

“What is?”

“That yelling.”

“Then why can I hear it?” I asked.

“Oh. Maybe it’s your imagination.”

Yesterday:

I was in the carpool line to pick the Boy up from school. Our carpool line begins to move once the buses have left the area, but it only moves about six or eight car lengths when the front cars move to fill in the spots right before pick up begins. We sit like this for maybe five minutes before pick up actually starts.

I had moved my car to about three car lengths from the stop sign on the corner across from the school. This part of the line is in front of a house and just as the line began to move for the picking up process, I saw an elderly man approach the car in front of me. She started moving, so he waved her on, but he held up his hand for me to stop.

I didn’t start moving, and he came to the passenger side window and made a motion for me to roll down the window.

I was driving my husband’s car, for various car related reasons, and it doesn’t have automatic windows, which meant I had take it out of gear and put the brake on to roll down that window.

He leaned in and said, “I know you’re not the woman I talked to yesterday, but I told her that I had lost my little dog. I found him and I just wanted to tell someone.”

Today:

I was driving the Boy to school and he started talking about Egypt. I don’t know where this came from but he was telling me how they don’t bury people in Egypt. I told him they had to because people die there, too.

He told me they had pyramids but I explained that not everyone gets buried in pyramids and we talked about Pharoahs, like “King Nut” (his words).

Then at one point he told me that they sit “criss-cross applesauce” when they pray and put their pointer fingers on their thumbs or something.

I asked him how he knew this.

His response:

“I’m smart and you know that someday I’m going to be a mad scientist and take over the world.”

Sigh.

My life certainly isn’t boring!

Watch this video then come back. I’ll wait.

http://video.foxnews.com/v/4339735/girl-booted-from-squad-over-booty-cheer/

Listening to Fox News and I heard this. The fact that one of the guys talking about his says it’s an appropriate cheer and the people involved with the cheer squad says the mom is a lunatic.

Seriously? I certainly wouldn’t want my 6 year old daughter saying “Our backs ache, our skirts are too tight, our booties shake from left to right.” One of the guys says it’s a cheer that’s been around for a long time. Don’t think so.

Years ago, when we lived in Germany, our daughter’s German first grade teacher also taught some of the girls in her class dance lessons. At the summer fest, at the end of the school year, these girls did a performance for the parents.

Now, understand this. It was Potsdam, formerly East Germany, and many of the parents didn’t speak English, and those who did, didn’t speak it well. Even the English teacher at the school couldn’t really speak to us.

So, here are all these 7 year old girls dancing to music that said, in the chorus, “Soldier, soldier, don’t look up. Ain’t no whore gonna hook you up.”

Beloved and I just about choked on our drinks. I just kept saying, “They can’t know. They just can’t.” Someone I had emailed this to told me I needed to explain to the teacher what was going on. I told her that my German didn’t actually contain the right vocabulary to explain what a whore is!

So, what do you think? Am I overreacting or is this just another example of our society trying to sexualize our children? (the cheer squad thing – I keep believing that the teacher didn’t understand the words.)

I’m a pantser and today I’m fighting with my process.

I learned in Orlando that one of the problems I’ve been having with my writing is that I have been trying to fight my own process. I am a pantser to the tips of my toes, but I am finding out that I have to figure some things out to continue working.

I don’t want to. I want to play and just write whatever I want, but my story isn’t coming together that way.

And. frankly, I’m struggling. I have an idea where the story is going but it’s hard for me to figure out where to start. I’m working on an urban fantasy, so I have a contemporary heroine and a fantasy hero, not to mention a villain and Hurricane Katrina. I have two threads that start out and then weave together. So I have to figure if I start with the hero, the heroine or the villain.

It’s a little frustrating because I need to do a little plotting to figure this all out and it’s against my natural process. I’m actually procrastinating a little because I hate plotting!!

Anyway, I gotta get this book finished before March, so I have to get going.

Are you a plotter or a pantser and if you’re a pantser, do you have any advise??

A year ago today, I was at my in-laws’ home. We’d just finished dinner and were heading to the living room to watch something on television when my cell phone rang. I thought, Hmm, who could be calling me; everyone is here.

Well obviously everyone wasn’t because it was my brother and as soon as he said my name I knew something was wrong. I thought immediately that his wife had gotten hurt. He said, “Mom is gone.”

He lived about 10 minutes from Mom in Ohio and he always called her a couple of times a day just to see how she was doing and such. He hadn’t been able to get hold of her so around 6 pm, he decided just to drive over and see what was up.

As soon as he walked in he knew something was wrong. None of her lights were on and her purse was on the table, so she hadn’t gone anywhere. He saw her lying in her bed and since she never napped, he knew.

She died in her sleep.

My mother was 81 years old, lived alone except for her dog, was a voracious quilter and sew-er, and was active in her church. There were cookies on her table that she’d baked for her Bible study that morning.

I had talked to her just the day before because it was my daughter’s birthday and she’d called to tell me that her present was in the mail. We’d chatted about the kinds of things we always talked about and there was no indication that she wouldn’t be there the next day.

Today, I’m having a sad day. I miss her so much. A lot of stuff has happened in the past year and so many times I’ve wanted to call her and talk. Christmas was hard because had planned to go up to see her and my brother and his wife. They have cats and Beloved and the Boy are allergic so they would have stayed with Mom again and we’d have had Christmas there.

So, we just decided, all of us together, that it would just be easier on all of us to not go up there.

The past year has been one of tears and frustration as we dealt with her estate and what to do with all her things. It was one time I realized what it means to really be an adult. These were all things my brother and I wanted Mom to handle for us!!

This past year has seen my brother deal with many health issues and the loss of his job. I’ve dealt with sciatica and two steroid shots in my back, not to mention behavioral issues with our son and getting that under control.

My daughter turned 21 yesterday which is a big deal but today I’m a little sad.

Mommy, I miss you, and I hope you, Daddy and Dotti are partying in heaven and holding a place for me.

Please bear with me as I update my site to include my current WIPs and those books that are finished, searching for a home.

Thanks!