See ya!

With a new life and a new blog, I'm leaving this one. You can find me over at Sanders In Stitches. Hope to see you there!

I know, I know... updates, Bren?

Not a lot to update on: Tons of Girl Scouts, gardening, working out, blah blah blah. And since this auto-feeds into Facebook, most of my daily life is on there anyway with the kids, the dogs and Rick. But well... poor Blogger is feeling neglected.

Having lost 48 lbs to date since May 2010 and with just 21 pounds left to go to hit my goal, I thought I'd post a new photo. By the way, who knew how fun shopping would be in this new small size? I LOVE IT! I used to hate hate hate shopping but now, it's amazing. So, well, here's the newest photo, taken this afternoon. Wish I'd done my hair, etc., but hey, the life of a mom, right? Right!

Hope you're all well and happy and living life to the fullest. My new motto:

Just for today, I can do anything.

Diamonds Are Forever

Awhile ago, I posted the ring we'd picked out, but the photo I had was for a smaller sized diamond. Here's The Ring, in all of it's 1.25 carat glory.

I love it!

I think he maybe loves me!

Skirts Refashioned

So in between getting ready for the craft fair, the girls have wanted a little somethingsomething of their own. Actually, my youngest daughter did. So I started with her:



This is a basic $5 skort. So boring.

This is after we added $5 of fabric to it (she wasn't home when it was finished, thus no model):



Then my older two daughters wanted their own. Nothing says YES! quite like having your 16 and 20 year old daughters asking for something homemade. Although Daughter #1 did hers in pinks, as 10 year olds are prone to do, Daughter #2 wanted tans and blacks:

The 20 year old wanted a "rockabilly" feel to hers (although she's borrowed the tan and black one from her sister a few times already). I love the Elvis aqua print in the middle!

So 3 skirts, all unique to each girl, and each only costing a total of $10 each and an afternoon of sewing.

Pretty neat!

This post is linked over to Tea Rose Home as part of a link party -- check it all out!

Twirl

I haven't updated this blog in quite awhile -- excuses or reasons aren't really necessary. RWA National is in full swing in Orlando and I hate that I'm missing it, and reading everyone's Facebook updates is great and equally agonizing. Rick and I had planned to go when it was in Nashville -- not only go but get married there as well -- and so I sit here and think of what classes or book signings I may have been at if the venue hadn't changed, and if I'd be Brenda Sanders by now or not. Sigh.

A couple of nights ago, I finished my skirt. I'm so thrilled at how it turned out. It's really full, so if you spin, it'll twirl around. It's a perfect fit and first clothes I've made myself since I was 13 and Mom first taught me how to sew. I'm SO happy with how it turned out. Here's a pic:


Then today, Wednesday, was a day for heart issues. I went to let the 5 dogs back inside, and no dogs to be found. The gate was opened. My heart dropped. I yelled and two of our big dogs returned immediately. I walked around the front, still yelling, and turned around to see Casanova, the basset, who I was really worried about because he's so skittish, but he darted right in. So two to go: Keiko the Akita, and Oliver, the little black pug.

So I go back inside, tell Rick, and we load up in the van to drive and look. Nothing. After several times around the neighborhood, there was Keiko in the yard. No Oliver.

Now I'm seriously concerned because Oliver was out on his own. We decide to take Sassy and Keiko out on leashes, thinking (hoping) they'd lead us to Oliver if he was hurt. We walked around and nothing.

Shandie and Sydney load up in her car. I post on Facebook to see if someone knows something. We'd asked everyone we passed and nothing. I knew he wasn't ran over because we'd covered all the streets already. My greatest fear was someone took him, and would keep him. He's so outgoing and cute and funny and well-trained. We would never get him back.

And all the time, Carly was at work, having no idea this turmoil was happening. I had no idea what I'd tell her. Oliver is hers, and they are inseparable. He's like her child, and I'd have to tell her he was gone. Of all the five dogs, THAT one was missing and there was nothing Mommy could do to make it okay again.

Rick asks if I want to drive around in his truck with him, looking. I felt there was no need -- we'd covered everywhere. He. Was. Gone. But I loaded up, and we drove.

And drove.

And drove.

Peering into shadows, driving in areas we knew he couldn't be. We kept going. And that's when fear and sadness sank in and I made my bargain with God: Let me find this dog, LEAD me to wherever he is, and I promise I will be in church TONIGHT.

And I opened my eyes, and there he was in a driveway. Rick hadn't even seen him and I said: There he is!

Rick still didn't see him but stopped the truck and I jumped down and grabbed Oliver up and I twirled, holding that fat little black dog so hard.

We got home and he darted into the backyard, and Casanova, his best buddy, danced around him. Then Oliver jumped in the dog pool and plopped his bottom down to cool off while lapping up the water around him, so hot and tired from his adventures.

I don't know if it was coincidence. I can't swear it was something divine. I just know neither of us saw him just a few feet down from that spot. I just know I opened my eyes after my desperate prayer and there he suddenly stood. And I cried with such relief.

My daughter's heart would not be broken.

And guess where I'll be tonight.

Saying "thank you".

Friday's Five

I know, it's been awhile. Bad, bad Brenda. But now I'm back, and today's Friday Five are

Five Things That Made Me Happy This Week:

1) Okay, I know I'm SEVERAL years behind here, but I just started watching Sex in the City on DVD (the series) starting with the first year. This week has been SO funny watching these. Gotta love me some Netflix to bring me all the series tv shows I've missed over the years, eh?

2) My hibiscus in the front flowerbed now has HUGE hot pink flowers on it. They're simply gorgeous.

3) Over at my favorite blog, Lucy March, all the Betties, as we like to call ourselves, are putting up their personal blogs so our Bettiness can grow and expand. Watch here for a Betty Blog Section to be built soon. Swear.

4) Finishing a certain book last night, which I won't name, but it was painful to get through. It wasn't quite bad enough for me to give up on all together, but it so hard to muster through it. Finally I finished it last night. Usually with a book, I'm sad when it's over and often times read it again in the near future, but this one? This ending brought relief. Just goes to show that not every New York Times Bestseller should BE a NYT Best Seller.

5) Dad called yesterday to tell me that the children then grandchildren will be going to Granny's to divide up her stuff, so if I wanted anything, I needed to be up there Sunday afternoon. No, there's nothing I need. Several years ago, I received her coo-coo clock. Dad had actually bought it overseas decades ago and gave it to Gran as a gift, and so it has double special meaning to me -- Dad picked it out and Granny owned it forever. I already have that, and I'm glad it's here safe and sound. I still need to hang it up. I didn't hang it up for years and years because Sydney and Cooper were little and I didn't want to fight over them messing with the parts that hang low, but now they're older so it'll be okay. And a coo-coo clock? Are you kidding me?!

It'll fit right in.

The House That Built Me

I truly love this song. Although they say you can't go home again, you can. If some things are so constant, you really can go home, even if you yourself have changed. Yesterday, Rick took the kids and me to my parents, and we drove by Tracy's -- well, where her house used to be before the city wiped it away -- and there's part of the fence that surrounded her backyard pool, and I desperately want to go and get a section and bring it to my own house and keep it, and in keeping it, keep the memories of her house that's now gone, and of us swimming in her backyard. But to do that, I think I'd need a blow torch or something to break the wrought iron free enough for me to snag it and then run.

And we got to my parents' house, and the huge live oak from the front yard is gone thanks to the Snow Day of 2010, but it's the same. Mom and Dad are at the door, ushering us in with hugs, and food is everywhere -- brisket and pecan pie -- it's the same. And you go out in the backyard and see their flowers growing better and bigger than a commercial ever could and even though he's not doing it right then, the picture of my dad in his overalls watering the backyard is the same -- the same it has been for so long that it's etched in my mind forever. Like Granny Souder and the hoe and her garden in the front yard, even though she's been gone for 15 years, the memory is the same, branded in our minds, and anyone who knew Granny or remembers any time at my house at all with Dad knows exactly what memories and pictures in the mind that I mean.

But it's not just me that was built with that house. I think anyone close to me growing up as a memory -- a STRONG memory -- of my parents' house. We had the pool table and the ping-pong table and the basketball hoop and a yard full of kids sometimes. Or going to my parents' house just to raid the fridge and cabinets, because it was always stocked. The memories there aren't just memories for me, but memories for so many people, this constant never changing world of The Bobo House. When people ask about my parents, I say, "They're great -- they're just the same" and people know instantly what I mean, transported to their own memory of the home my parents created.

I've moved 17 times since leaving that house. Even for my own kids, their house is the "home", the constant, the safe place. The idea of them moving, or the house belonging to anyone outside of the family leaves me mentally crippled. My mind can't grasp the idea. That wouldn't be a good change. Life needs certain guarantees and that's one of them.

Now that Rick and I are together and building our new future, with our new house and our gardens and our own holidays, I can only hope I'm able to create a home that builds up others the way my parents' house built us, even if I'm 20 years late getting started. If I can give others a fraction the memories my parents gave me and so many others out there, I know I'll have accomplished something spectacular.

I just hope my parents know how significant they are as well as the house they loved and nurtured, and what their home has meant: It's the House the Built So Many.

I love you, Mom & Dad!

Yikes! Nashville Floods!

It's been flooding in Nashville, and the Gaylord Hotel is where the RWA National Conference is schedule to be held. According to the emails I've received today, we're apparently in a wait-and-see, although one email did suggest that the Gaylord and RWA are working on finding an alternative location. Makes the most sense because I cannot fathom they'd have all of the mess from the video fixed by July. However, after such devastation, I'm sure they hope to fix it in time because it would generate a lot of cash after being closed. Such a horrible situation. I hope everyone is safe.

I know the Board of RWA does the scouting and locations of our national conference years in advance. They put in such long hours and hard work. I hate to imagine them scrambling around now trying to find a solution but I know it has to be done.

Rick had suggested we get married in Nashville. I guess I should tell him about the flooding and possible/probable rescheduling. He'll think he's off the hook.

Ha!

The Eye of the Storm

Today is April 28th. You know what today is? The Day Between the Birthdays.

Brett, my brother, and I had just a day apart from our birthdays. Well, 2 years and 363 days. I'm October 11th, and he's October 13th, and man oh man, there hath no sin committed by my mother greater than forcing Brenda to share a party with Brett. Well, at least until I grew up and saw the convenience of it. When he and I were little, it made even more sense; it's not like we went to school yet, so all of our friends were from church, and therefore, friends with both of us. Yet I hated it all the same. I specially remember one birthday in particular. It was a rare birthday in which my parents bought a store-made cake (Mom usually made our cakes) and it was split right down the middle, decorated in two themes, one for him... one for me.

He played peewee football, so his side had little football players all over it with goal posts and everything. Made sense... he was a little football player.

My side was done in Halloween, with witches. Made sense, right... since I was a little... wait a minute!! *indignant pause inserted here*

I don't remember many shared birthdays after that, and please do not get me wrong here, in fact, if I'd been Mom, I'd forced shared birthdays forever.

I can say that because I find myself in the same situation, but instead of just three years apart, my two are SIX YEARS apart. And well... (sighs) Okay, I admit it: it's my fault their birthdays are only separated by one day.

Little Miss Carly Victoria was born five days late, induced on April 29th, 1994. YAY! Pizza anyone? (Inside story). Then, six years later, I was in the most horrific pregnancy ever, and having 5 pregnancies, I can say that. So the doctor gave me two dates in which to induce Baby #3: April 27th, or May 5th.

Well... in hindsight, being the Beast that hindsight IS, I should have held out for May 5th, but the pain got the best of me, so on April 27th, 2000, Sydney Elizabeth burst forth into the world.

So April 28th is the Day Between.

I've tried pretty hard since Syd was born not to "share" the birthdays. Unfortunately, Syd came home from the hospital on Carly's 6th birthday, and of course, people in their sweetness and ignorance told Carly she got a new baby sister for her birthday. Well Carly didn't ASK for a new baby sister -- she just wanted a Barney video or Barbie or cash to hide in her room (another inside story). So after that, I did my best to keep the birthdays as individual as the girls themselves.

Then this year came.

My goal is to always give the weekend before the birthdays to Sydney, and the weekend afterward to Carly. For traveling family (like Mom and Dad, plus friends, like Margaret and company) this doesn't always mean you get the visit ON the birthday because it's a bit to travel two weekends in a row. But this year is unique. The weekend after the birthdays, on Friday, Carly and Sydney and me and a few girl scouts all head to Girl Scout Camp at Texlake in Austin to camp in treehouses, so there's no way to party the weekend after.

So we partied the weekend before. Combined.

We had about 25 people here. Shandie came up from Texas State (a 2 hours drive), Mom and Dad and Margaret and Charlie and Cari all came down from Ft Worth (a 2.5 hours drive). Neighbors came over for the cookout (about a 20 second drive in Cameron), and Sydney had NO. IDEA. AT. ALL.

I'd told her last year that from now on, all birthdays were family only. No more friends invited who never show up and never RSVP (so irksome). So she thought there was NOTHING. In fact, her father told me the following:

Sydney to her dad: Can we buy me some party favors?
Brian: Why?
Sydney: Because Mom said no more parties, but if I can buy some favors, at least it'll FEEL like my birthday.

Guilt much, Sydney? Geeze, child.
Thankfully, Brian knew of the plans already made and did not give in to the favors.

Instead, Sydney walked into the backyard to hear everyone say SURPRISE and get showered with gifts and love. It was also for Carly, but she knew about it, and didn't seem to mind sharing it with Sydney.

At least this one time...
So Happy Decade Old for Sydney Elizabeth and Happy Sweet Sixteen to Carly Victoria. I love you both more than you will ever realize until you're blessed with your own beautiful daughters. (In 30 years or so, of course.)

As for Brenda, Happy April 28th -- my day of nothingness.

I'll Have What She's Having

Harry Burns: There are two kinds of women: high maintenance and low maintenance.
Sally Albright: Which one am I?
Harry Burns: You're the worst kind; you're high maintenance but you think you're low maintenance.
Sally Albright: I don't see that.

I’m fascinated by this idea. Unfortunately, I’m apparently like Sally Albright, because it appears that even though I don’t view myself as High Maintenance, others DO. I’m not sure why, but they do. So… I did some research.

On Facebook, I put it in my status, asking others what they thought High Maintenance meant to them. Several said the way I view it: Perfect hair and make-up, designer clothing, wanting only the best of material things, blah blah blah.

One friend said when he and I dated, I was pretty laid back. Which is funny, since I was only 19 at the time and 19 in general is a living, breathing hell, but given who his girlfriend was before me, that may be why he viewed me a “laid back”. I just know I wasn’t going to argue since he’s apparently one of the very few who think of me as low maintenance.

A few years ago, in fact, it was 2007 because I remember it vividly, it dawned on me that there is emotional high maintenance so very different from how I’d viewed high maintenance in materialistic ways. Needing reassurance, mental stimulation, the spark and connection. I could see me high maintenance that way. Of course, it was also pointed out to me by someone else that those things weren’t high maintenance in their opinion, but just basic human necessities to feel needed and wanted and loved, and if those things were not being fulfilled and thus creating the high maintenance fallout, that was on the other person to not provide as promised. Which makes sense; I’ve always claimed Love is a verb, an action, so if those actions aren’t made and the love isn’t evident, then yeah, the questions and insecurities would definitely flair up. Anyone can say they love someone else. But showing love – that’s worth much more than diluted words someone may utter just to float by in life to maintain a status quo.

Anyway, back to topic:

Another friend said: It’s like a high performance car. If you want the best out of it, you have feed the best into it. (paraphrased)

A third friend said I’m a drama magnet, which used to be very true. But note the magnet – it somehow finds me, but isn’t generated by me. That was good news. And I think it’s the Libran in me attempting to fix and balance others and then getting dragged into it, but… (shrugs) That friend also said that the good thing about my brand of high maintenance is that it’s never boring.

Um. Thanks. I think.

I know I’m definitely not the materialistic high maintenance. I like to shop as much as the next person, but I really like finding good deals, etc, and name brands are not my thing. But the emotional high maintenance, I think if it’s being nurtured and fed and reinforced, that’s not high maintenance at all: That’s what I call Happily Ever After.

Friday's Five -- Heroes

Five qualities my heroes always have:

1) Self-confidence boarding arrogance but not crossing the line.
2) Intelligence. Most definitely.
3) A scorching look.
4) Barely contained passion toward everything important to him.
5) A innate need to protect what he deems is "HIS".

True Love and Fate

While working on BARELY THERE, I’m digging around in Delaney’s past and Mitch’s past, seeing what makes them – well – them. One of the most important things in my hero and heroine’s make-up is how previous relationships have affected them, and how that past relationship makes them view the idea of new relationships. This isn’t just in novels, obviously, but is something we’ve all probably have experienced in our own lives.

Most everyone – aside from Rick, apparently – knows the movie The Princess Bride and tons of the movie quotes, including “TruuuUUUUe Love”. But before that particular quote, there’s another one regarding the real-deal True Love. At the beginning of the movie, when Buttercup is speaking of her love’s assumed death, she states:

“I died that day.”

And I think this is true. If one has loved, truly loved, and it dies a shocking, violent end without consent and closure, we all die a little. We’re not remotely the person we were before. We are jaded. We are scarred. The scars may fade in time, the jaded outlook may calm, but part of us will never be the same again. Ever. The innocence of that purity of love is forever gone. You know now there’s a fantastically bitter alternative that you hadn’t experienced before. You are forever changed. Part of you has, indeed, died.

And it’s my personal belief that if you were to see that person again (as in a break-up, obviously not as in death situations), that part of you will emotionally fling back to that pain. Instantly. You may have memory jolts of the extreme love and happiness, but I promise you’ll also have shards of the pain pressing against the tender scars.

But…here’s the real question circling around my brain today: what happens while the wound is still fresh, blood is still leaking out around your hasty bandage, and someone else comes along? It’s pretty natural, at least to me, to find someone quickly to help dull the pain, to justify that you’re worthy enough to be with someone else, etc. And there’s a name for that: rebound.

And we all know how rebound relationships go, right?

But, just for “what if”, let’s say it’s NOT a rebound, or at least it’s claimed not to be a rebound. That this is IT, The One. (cue Snow White’s chirping birds here)

Is it possible to have BELIEVED you truly loved when in fact, you hadn’t? Is it possible to claim that your future only seemed bright with that first person, only to find that the level of brightness isn’t comparable to the newly neon shine of the latter love? Any proclamations made to the first may have been true at the time, but then a couple of weeks or so later, another person stumbles into your life and suddenly, the first doesn’t have the glow you once thought? At the time, you thought you’d never eat again, sleep again, smile again – your life and the future you’d planned on having with that person is gone gone gone with no hope of renewal but a month later, your head is spinning with love and happiness and the future dawns bright again.

In my world, that doesn’t make sense at ALL but really, I have no idea of these answers and the more I think about it, the more questions I end up asking myself. This is one of the reasons I hate hypothetical questions. I can’t pinpoint the validity of the answer, especially if I’m not the one living it.

From another one of my All Time Favorite Movies, EVER AFTER:


Prince Henry: Do you really think there is only one perfect mate?

Leonardo da Vinci: As a matter of fact, I do.

Prince Henry: Well then how can you be certain to find them? And if you do find them, I mean really the one for you, or do you only think they are, then what happens if the person you're supposed to be with never appears, or she does but you're too distracted to notice?

Leonardo da Vinci: You learn to pay attention.

Prince Henry: And let's say... God pus 2 people on earth and they are lucky enough to find one another, but one of them gets hit by lightening, well then what, is that it? Or perchance you meet someone new and marry all over again, is that the lady you're supposed to be with, or was it the first? And if so, when the 2 of them are walking side by side, were they both the one for you and you just happened to meet the first one first, or was the second one supposed to be first? And is everything chance? Or are some things meant to be?

Leonardo da Vinci: You cannot leave everything to fate, boy. She's got a lot to do, sometimes you must give her a hand.

Okay, taking Prince Henry’s rambling thoughts to mind, let’s say you’re foolish enough to fall in love again – and your gut tells you that it’s real FOR REAL this time. Should it end yet again and the future is gone gone gone yet again, will the pain be as blindingly horrific as the last time, or, because you’ve experienced it already, the pain is muted, even if just a little, because scars cover the previous wounds. The most pain now would be an itching against that scar, a reminder of what you’ve already survived and acknowledgement that you could – if you had to – survive a great loss again. And, because of that survival, because of the jaded past that now defines the new you, are you that much more willing to toss away love and futures and walk away because you know you can survive it? If you begged that first relationship to not be over, but on the newer one you tend to think of ending it more often, what, exactly, does that mean? Is it a gut reaction to stave off pain like you barely survived, and is an acidic “I don’t even care as much as I used to” type situation? What makes someone change the core of who they are so completely? What makes them go from begging one person, then the second person they supposedly “really truly” love they don’t cling to it just as strongly? Ugh, so many questions!

OR! Maybe this is all a male vs. female thing. Maybe men do recover from lost love faster than women do. I don’t think this is the answer, but it could be. For my hero and heroine, this is what they’re telling me, but it just poses a lot more questions of their past and their personalities to figure out their future.

Because you know me: I have to have my Happily Ever After. There’s no alternative for that in Brenda’s World.
.

Friday's Five -- Websites

Today I'm posting the websites I go to every day, without fail:

1) Facebook

2) Lucy March's Blog

3) Perez Hilton Celebrity Blog

4) Google

5) eBay

Also on there would be gmail to check my email, but I didn't think that'd really count.

What are the websites you go to every day without fail? Maybe I can find a few new ones to add to those I already visit.

Put Up or Shut Up, Brenda

So... I either messed up, or it was fate, or something similarly squicky, but either way, a revelation definitely happened today, one I knew -- in my heart -- but hadn't really looked at too closely until this morning, and the shock of it jolted me. Violently.

One of my favorite places to visit every day is Lucy March and it's really great to watch her on a daily basis as she travels emotionally and mentally through Life right now. I replied to her post, and then she replied back, and reminded me of an email I sent her years ago after reading her first book, TIME OFF FOR GOOD BEHAVIOR, and if you read my stuff at all, you'll know it's one of my all-time favorite books. I'd forgotten about that email I'd sent until she reminded me of it, and in doing so, I went digging through my blog, back to 2005, and time after time of reading blog post after blog post, one thing kept sounding loud and clear, and I sat here, staring and reading, it was like roadkill I couldn't look away from.

A huge, vast galaxy of excuses.

I wasn't writing because of this. I wasn't writing because of that. Day after day, week after week, YEAR AFTER YEAR!

I sat here, staring at my laptop.

So okay -- the other side of it. In the last five years, tons of changes have happened in my life. HUGE, HONKIN' changes. Two moves, Sydney's asperger's, Cooper's epilepsy, Shandie off to college, a divorce. Finding who I really am, aside from wife then ex-wife, mother, daughter, Rick's girlfriend, online friendships, now Girl Scout leader and real life friendships. If I strip all of that away, over the course of these years of turmoil, I'm pretty comfortable now with who I know I am.

So, today, April 7, 2010, I'm drawing my line in my own sand. For FIVE YEARS -- five years -- my God just to type it... I've spewed excuse after excuse on why the writing isn't forthcoming. In the last two months, I've written more than I did the last couple of years, but it's not enough. Sure, I've made progress, but it's NOT. ENOUGH.

Two years ago I said I wouldn't attend another National conference until I had something ready to pitch, and I didn't have anything ready, so I didn't go to San Fran or to DC. But this year, this is the year I was going to return, I was going to be in the writing world again, and I was going to write and be ready to pitch. I know I want to write for Blaze. I've created myself a one year, five year and 10 year plan. I've learned collages. But I'm still not producing pages on a daily basis. I'm a realist enough to see the progress I've made and give myself credit for it, but also to understand, deep in my soul, that it's simply not enough.

As Rick said when I talked to him about this, my writing STILL has not become a priority. And, as usual (grumble grumble): He's right.

April is always a tough month for me. Easter and then Carly and Sydney's birthdays. Money is tighter than usual. So I said I didn't think I'd make it to Austin for my writers meetings (it's an hour and a half each way to travel.) But if it's important, I'd find a way, so we'll figure it out to make it happen because *It's Important* that I do so.

For me to keep my promise to myself not to attend Nationals unless I can pitch, I have until May 18th. Early registration for Nationals ends on May 19th. That means that as of today, April 7th, I have six weeks to FINISH this book I'm currently working on.

If I do not meet this goal, I will walk away from writing altogether and simply be a fan of some of the most wonderful women I've ever met and support them as much as I can. This is my line.

Wish me luck.

Friday's Five ~ Language

Five words I wish would come back in everyday language, just because I like them, which of course, is reason enough right there:

1) Nonsensical -- noun

• words or language having little or no sense or meaning.


• conduct, action, etc., that is senseless, foolish, or absurd: to have tolerated enough nonsense.


• impudent, insubordinate, or otherwise objectionable behavior: He doesn't have to take that nonsense from you.


• something absurd or fatuous: the utter nonsense of such a suggestion.


• anything of trifling importance or of little or no use.

2) Thwart -- verb (used with object)

• to oppose successfully; prevent from accomplishing a purpose.


• to frustrate or baffle (a plan, purpose, etc.).

3) Happenstance -- noun

• a chance happening or event.
  

4) flummox [fluhm-uh ks] -- verb (used with object)

• Informal.


• to bewilder; confound; confuse.

5) Glib -- adjective,glib·ber, glib·best.

• readily fluent, often thoughtlessly, superficially, or insincerely so: a glib talker; glib answers.

Side note: glibber is an awesome word -- never heard that one before!

So, any you wish would come back into language style?

Collages: Adult-Style

(You can click on the photo thumbprints -- here and below -- to see larger versions.)

So this is the collage for BARELY THERE. I started collaging after hearing Jennifer Crusie and Lucy March aka Lani Diane Rich have such success with it. So I thought what the heck, I have nothing to lose.

And it really does work. I went to type something about the stapler and instead of just saying STAPLER, I said, "plain black office stapler" and everyone under the sun now knows exactly what I mean when I say "stapler". And I only have that description because I have the storyboard for this right there in my face the entire time I'm typing. In fact, yesterday I could only manage 300 miserable, horrible, where's-the-delete-key-words and I think it may have been because I didn't have my collage right in my face talking to me as I typed.

So this is the full thing: I bought a tri-fold presentation in black and cut it in half horizontally because I didn't think I needed that much space. So okay -- the black tri-fold board is then covered in sheer black meshing with glittery dots then topped with black satin tied with black and red plaid bows. I used a hole puncher to work those ribbons through. Then I started to abuse the printer...

Whenever we read a book, we create our own visuals of what characters and settings look like based on the information the writer has given us to work with. And of course, everyone mostly visualizes something different, and I think that's why a lot of times people think books are better than movies; the visuals in the movies don't match up to the visuals in the mind (although I think an excellent example against that are the first two Harry Potter movies -- everyone always said it was just as they imagined it. Then, of course, they had to go and get a new director and muck it all up, but I digress...)

So, on that idea, the "characters" on my board are more like the IDEA of the book character more than what they really look like. Delaney Dupree, heroine extraordinaire, is sassy and has crazy red hair -- so of course, Debra Messing came to mind instantly. If you notice there's the bigger photo of her -- I printed that off and used a mat around her and put the name above it. Her favorite drink is a mango margarita, so I glued one of those on as well. Then TIME and STAPLERS are important, so I found ones to be hers, and ones to be his. HIS, being Mitch Parker, womanizer to the extreme and sporting that "everyone loves me" flash of a grin. Who better than Michael Weatherly to give me that on both counts. So... he's framed with a mat as well, he gets his version of stapler and clock, and then I glued his scotch on his hand, and the small photo under him is a spreadout of women -- to represent his womanizing ways.

Okay, then. They both crave landing the VP seat of their advertising agency, so I printed off an executive looking office and put it between them. Right under that is some lingerie, since they kind of battle it out for this new client, so it's also "between" them.

Under Delaney, you'll see a photo of her best friend, Jodi Todd. I describe Jodi as cool and calm with a sleek blonde bob, so I printed out pics of that to represent her. Jack Kincaid, over there under Mitch, is known for his laid back style and basically a good guy.

On the left, most of that represents the dreams that seem to connect Mitch and Delaney. The bottom photo on the left is Delaney's apartment.

On the right side of the board, there's a photo overlooking a downtown office area and over it reads "Little Miss Double D" -- Mitch's nickname for Delaney. Next to that is a photo of Mitch that says "Mitch the Bitch", Delaney's nickname for Mitch. A lot of the book takes place in their offices, and between their offices is the Cubicle Arena, so I printed out a photo of that. On top of the "Instant Ad Exec Just Add Coffee" coffee mug is a small print of a standard office break room. And another red stapler, because staplers are big in this book.

Below that is a photo of Mitch's apartment. On the lower right are photos of the inside of clubs that represent Duke's Bar from the book.

Whew. I'm tired now!

At the top center of the board is a photo between the words BARELY and THERE (which have white and silver glitter on them for a magical visual appeal) and that photo is the core of it all -- a connection, the sensuality, the need, the trust.

The perfect embrace.

Hope you enjoy seeing the creative process and I hope it doesn't bore you to tears! As I stated, this is my first time with working a storyboard collage, and I really, really enjoyed it a lot.

There are a couple of close-up shots:

Happy Birthday, Lester Bobo!

Today is my dad's birthday -- and this song always reminds me of him.

Happy 72nd Birthday, Dad! I love you!

Making a Playlist and this Breaks My Heart

Working on my playlist for BARELY THERE, and while downloading one song, this one came up, and just watching the video breaks my heart. To know he's singing this live is amazing to me. The pain radiates.

Friday's Five ~ Springtime

Five things I love about Springtime in Texas:

1) Flowers -- especially the bluebonnets growing wild on the side of the road, or driving by a store and seeing the sparkling array of flowers in all colors for sale.

2) Sunshine -- although I really dislike daylight savings time, I do like that the kids get longer periods of outside play on school days.

3) Rebirth -- nothing beats seeing the grass start to turn green again, and watching the trees bloom after months of emptiness on the branches.

4) Frolicking -- the dogs seem to come to life with everything else, finding sticks to play with, hopping through the grass, rolling around thinking, "I'm a happy dog! I'm a happy dog!" I loooove it.

5) Flipflops!!! Although occasionally, I'm still a child of the 80s and call them thongs, much to the snickering of my children.

Oh So Ordinary

Today we watched American Beauty, which I'd never seen before. Very interesting film and it's obvious why it won so many awards. And the theme of ORDINARY resonated: Lester Burman's "I'm just an ordinary guy who has nothing to lose" but especially this one line by Angela Hayes:

"I don't think that there's anything worse than being ordinary."

I think this is a universal truth in us all, even though very few of us would admit it. We may say we want "the American dream" or "just an ordinary life" but that's not only lying to the world, it's lying to ourselves. Is it the need to feel humble? Who said we had to be humble when it comes to our lives? I don't get this mentality at all and I definitely believe that it is a great unspoken fear, this fear of being ordinary, but we just don't have the guts to state it for whatever personal reasons we may think we have. And, in craving it, I have no doubt that people turn to the darker side of it, the entire "negative attention is better than no attention at all" or those people who kick others on the ladder in an attempt to make themselves appear higher, even if just to themselves. But aside from the obvious negatives, I don't think there's a single thing wrong with loudly exclaiming we want more.

We all want to stand out, to get acclamations, to rise above. No one would want a review stating it was "an ordinary performance" or "an ordinary book". So why would any one state that they want the ordinary? I don't want an ordinary love -- I want a spectacular love, defying odds, a love that others re-tell, the one books are written about and for which movies are made. And our lives, from memories to the future of our personal bucket lists -- does any one have "pay the mortgage" or "take out the trash" on their lists? Of course not. They have swimming with dolphins and climbing mountains and other SO out of the ordinary goals listed and for a reason -- we don't want to die having been ordinary.

I crave the extraordinary, and I'm pretty sure I'm not alone. We shouldn't settle for less, and we shouldn't think we deserve less than extraordinary. The ordinary becomes acceptable when we all lower our expectations and settle.

The only settling I want to do is to settle into my extraordinary bed with my extraordinary Rick with my amazingly extraordinary kids dreaming their personal dreams down the hall and keep living our extraordinary life and making extraordinary memories.

Also -- don't say ordinary a lot. It starts to sound really weird. Don't believe me? Try it. Say it aloud like 20 times. Just don't accept it.

Same for extraordinary. That one, well, you're allowed to accept that. Aren't you glad I gave you permission for something you didn't even know you needed?

You're welcome.