Pin Came!!

I'm so excited!!!

Now, if I can get to Nationals, I'll proudly wear it and be able to let the entire place know I'm a "Cherry"!

Bren aka Texas Cherry
(formerly known as Cherry Bobo)

Monday Musings

Not a lot to talk about today. I spent a lot of the weekend online, so now I don't have much to say. Of course, knowing me, I'll probably end up with several paragraphs of "nothing much".

Biggest news right now: I did not get one of the KOD scholarships for Nationals. I'm still waiting to hear from RWA about the essay I sent in. Hopefully that will come through for me. I have raised $300 toward airfare. I'm crocheting blankets (need an afghan? Think ahead to Christmas! Order now and help me get to Nationals!) Whoa. How's that for blatant begging? I have $500 to go. If I can sell 10 more afghans....

I got my cherry pin in the mail today. I'll wear it at Nationals so that JCF's will know I'm a Cherry. Two more dresses came today. Both are a bit too small, but I have a couple of months to get some of this stupid weight off. And I'm bound and determined to get my doc to do something about it. After all, it's the meds he put me on that caused this freakin' weight. He should be able to do something about it. Right? Right.

My 4 yr old (third born) had a meltdown this morning at school, and as she collapsed to the floor in her overly dramatic way, she pulled my shirt with her. Needless to say, as much pain as I'm normally in and causing me to take so many narcotics every day for LIFE, this totally wrenched out my entire right side, from my hip joint up to my shoulder blade. I just downed two Darvocets and one Flexeril (muscle relaxer) in an attempt to bypass the pain. My regular doses weren't TOUCHING it. Hopefully, these will kick in and I won't have the ability to sit here to type anymore on the blog.

See? Told ya I'd end up with several paragraphs, even though I supposedly had nothing to say.

Love,
Loose-Lips

Time Change & Hell...err..Texas.

How could I EVEN forget about time change? I'm one of those that cannot STAND DST. Whomever created this should be stoned. Yeah, yeah, I understand the reasons why it was implemented, but can't that go by the wayside. Besides hating this my entire life (I could live in the dark forever, I think...must be the suspense writer in me) now, as an adult, it's even WORSE! How do you explain to a four year old that it's bedtime when it's still light outside at 9pm?! That's just W R O N G. And, being in Texas, that puts off the cooler evenings until it's too late to be out anyway.

Being April, we're plunging into summer already. There are no happy mediums here. There's cold, cool, hot and HELL. (Okay, Hell is really Arizona, but since Hell was copyrighted by like...God, then they settled on Arizona instead.) But Texas, although it does have changing seasons and it DOES get cold here (some people didn't realize that. That cracks me up to no end.) there's a very VERY short time span between turning on the heater and turning on the A/C. My average electric bill in the summer is $300. No, I'm not kidding. Would I kid about something like THAT? No way in...Hell. Wow, we came full circle yet again.

So to those of you that love Daylight Savings Time, I'm scowling at YOU! I think I need to move to like....Nebraska. When I met The Alicia (Rasley) in San Antonio, she'd just left Nebraska and said it was beautiful. That's where I want to be. With every ounce of my being, I want to be in Nebraska. Even if it IS daylight savings time.

And what's up with Arizona getting out of clock changing anyway? Is that the consolation price for agreeing to live in HELL? Probably.

Time to Dye

As usual, there's a backstory to this little comment.

See that picture up at the top of the screen? That doesn't look like me anymore. That was taken right after I'd lost like 25 lbs. I've since gained them back. ~Takes a moment to glare at her pharmacy of meds on her desk~ Additionally, I whacked off my hair about two months ago.

10". That's a lot of hair.

My hair grows SUPER fast, and to have a short, "normal mommy" kind of haircut, I'd have to literally go in every 4 weeks to maintain it. So for the last 10 years or so, I'd get my hair cut short (over my ears) and by the same time the next year, it would be down tomy bra-strap again. When I started to regain the weight, I decided I was hiding behind my hair. Besides being super fast growing, it's very fine. BUT there's a ton of it. You should have seen me in the 90s! Man, my tons of fine hair would use AquaNet to its highest possibilities. So, anyway, I wanted change. I whack off 10" and decided to put "red" chunks in it.

I have very dark chocolate hair. So my natural "hightlight" would be on the reddish side. I wanted that trendy "chunky" look. I decided to do it myself. My husband decided to help me. So instead of chunkying it (Yes, that's a word now) he blended and blended and blended it in. So I had some chunks and a LOT of blending. Ugh. AND, now none of my clothes looked right because my "colors" had changed. I hated it. I waited a week, and went and bought my natural color in a bottle: dark ash brown. It covered almost all the red until the sun was especially bright. That's been about six weeks ago. And, if you read my blog yesterday, you know I just got it re-cut, two inches shorter than LAST time because it grows so fast. And I got a new bottle of dye: dark brown. This should take care of ALL the red...FINALLY!

Other than that, I'm attempting to get my KOD duties under control. Thank goodness for Misty and Christine! I think I'll be okay after I get a month of it under my belt. I'm a fast learner. I know this because I don't drool or wear a helmet in a car.

And I'm back on eBay, attempting to replace the black sausage dress with something new for the KOD banquet. And I need to do laundry. (Can you even imagine laundry for six, two of which are toddlers?! Only one person can whine to me about laundry, and that's Allison Brennen, who has FIVE kids.) Writers really aren't right-minded, I'm sure of it.

My hips are starting to do better. Thought I was going to crash and fall at the store last night. I'm still drunk from my drug-cocktail last night & it's time for my morning dose now (yeah, okay, so it's really almost time for the afternoon one, but in my world, we're still calling it 'morning'.) Unless something striking happens, this will be my post for the day. I bid you all a fabulous Sunday.

Bren

Lady in Red

My 2nd dress came today. It's absolutely lovely. A bit tight though. I swear, nothing is worse than losing weight then being put on meds that make you gain weight. But the biggest area of concern with my red dress is that the chest is too...tight. There's a shock, huh? The girl that described it said, "Or something very well-endowed". Ummm....I'm very, but it STILL smushes them up to my chin. That look really isn't in style right now.

And thus it begins. I'm determined to somehow lose the weight the meds made me gain. I'd asked my doc for Fastin to counter-effect the sluggishness and weight gain, and he said: "That's practically SPEED." I said: "Yes. And?" Apparently there's some time of liability issue. I'll call him again tomorrow and swear to sign away all possibility of lawsuit if he'll just help me. It's so stupid, really. I'm on meds because of joint issues, but the meds make me gain weight, thus putting more pressure on said joints. THERE'S logic.

So I'll beg him for something tomorrow. Plus I'll start my Leslie 2-mile VCR workout and hit the floor for some serious push-ups and sit-ups. I can already do sit-ups like a soldier...guess it's time to put it into action. And I'm going to see if B (that would be husband: Brian) will take my bike down. It's got one of those yellow cart thingies that attaches to the back so I can pull Cooper around. We'll see. My hips hurt just THINKING about it.

On a brighter note: Got my hair whacked again. It's short like I did two months ago, reshaped but then took another 2" off of it. Now I'm going to dye it again. (For those that don't know, I'd attempted home-based red chunks in my chocolate-colored dark brown hair. It didn't work. I redyed it my color and got most of the red out, but this one should do it completely.) LET'S HOPE SO!

The final plans for Reno are going into effect. I'm BEYOND excited. Be.Yond. I really need a break from life and there's nothing better in the entire world than RWA in Reno.

My daughter, the Mutant: An Introduction

So, way back in 1990, when I was 20, I gave birth to a mutant. You think I'm joking, but alas, I am not. After a wicked labor, this huge 9lb 10oz 22" baby was born. That kid's head was SO sloped it was still apparent in her 6 week old picture. I gave birth to an infant, not a newborn. She was being strolled to the nursery in that tacky plastic bassinet thingy they use, and this other teeniny baby was there, too. (Yes, teeniny is a word. Move to Texas if you don't believe me.) I said, "Oh my gosh! What's wrong with that tiny baby?!"

The nurse, not missing a beat, said, "Nothing. Yours is a mutant."

No, I'm not kidding. She was SO big, that a regular 7.5 lb baby looked like a premie. The really super sweet moment came when this Nurse Cratchit informs me, "Babies get bigger as you have them."

WTH? I'm 20 and I'm being told they get BIGGER as they come? You'd think that right there would have stopped me from having more. Alas, it did not. And, additional, Nasty Nurse lied. They all got smaller, with the youngest being a mere 7.5 (YAY! Oh, and there's another story...He kind of up and walked out. When you get to #4, they tend to do that.) Anyway, this is Shandie's story, so back to the topic at hand.

That's when it started. Shandie Alexandra Fontenot was born. And it's been a blast of a ride since. She's tall, already 5'8 (I'm 5'3, so to me, that's tall. Don't argue.) She's beautiful (I am NOT biased!) and as sharp as a tack. Rapier wit darts from her tongue, and yet she compliments me on a continual basis with comments like, "I want to be my mom when I grow up." Now how many (almost) 15 yr old's say that?! Pardon me a moment while I beam.

Now, like Shandie, I started writing in high school. Poems and short stories. They rarely got seen past my journal (no computers, yanno.) Of course they were these dark, gloomy works, mostly about my death or funeral, etc. Teenager kinda stuff. Shan continues this gene along, although she rarely writes as darkly as I did at that age. And, (another beaming moment coming! Put on the sunglasses!) she won the covetted position of Chief Copy-editor of the high school's school literary magazine, beating out upperclassmen that had worked on the mag way before she even came along. Additionally, they put her in the creative position of poetry contributor. Does the kid have talent? Absolfreakinlutely. Way more than I did at her age. And NOW is the time to hone it.

She reads adult fiction. After fifth grade, she could no longer score any higher on manadtory tests. She was testing at 12th grade, 9 month, which means her brain worked like that of a senior that just graduated. In 5th grade. She sometimes scares me. So now I'm telling her to write. She wrote this really creepy short story that would impress Stephen King (I know this, because I read Stephen King.) Suspense, gore, murder. I read it and looked at her, even knowing she's brilliant, shocked at her talent. So yesterday I start on her. Shandie, be a reviewer ( her new fav is Jennifer Crusie). I told her she should write young adult. YA is big right now, and she LIVES it. Put her talent behind what she knows in a field that's craving new work. I started writing at 24 myself, aiming for category (SIM) but at the time, that husband and that situation did not encouragement me to continue. If I'd kept at it these 11 years past, where could I have been today?! She's 14. Start NOW, Shan. Get it going, and by the time you're MY age, you'll be a pro and earning a true living doing what you love to do: writing.

So there's my intro of Shandie. Those wondering how to pronounce her name, it's like Sandy, but with an h. Shan-dee. Not Shawn-dee. Sandy with an h. Easy. In my novel currently making the rounds in contests, her middle name, Alexandra, is the hero's name of Alex. Now you know how I got his name. And now you know Shandie. Click on her link here at my blog and read about her. I know you'll find her as amusing as I do. Let me dig around and find a better picture of her and I'll post it. She IS my sunshine. (Another story there, but those that know it, know how it touches my heart.)

Until later....

Okay, so I lied

Gina and Allison are going to flog me, and in a bad way at that.

I just posted that I don't need a synop for The Molly. (cough) That's not quite right. I got my contests mixed up. For The TARA contest, I don't need it and THAT one isn't entire the 4th. For The Molly, I DO need a synop. ~cringe~ Don't hurt me.

The good news? The deadline isn't until the 14th of May!! So I have plenty of time to create THE perfect synopsis! Aren't you two beyond excited at that prospect?! Contain the excitement, girls, you'll frighten the others. Now, as long as my usual self-defeating procrastination rears its ugly, decaying, rotten rubbish head, I should be fine as rain come May.

Oh Lord, at least I hope so.

Writer is to Trial like Mother is to Tribulation

Remember those horrible tests when we were in school? What freakin' point WAS there to those stupid questions anyway? Must have had some impact, since I'm now thinking of them, 20 years later. EEKS! NOT 20 years...more like...17. There. That doesn't sound *quite* as painful. Does it? No, it doesn't. Agree with me because I'm having a wickedly bad day.

To save face as The World's Worst Mother (of four kids, no less), I will not rant and rave about my children and the angst they're causing me. Well, in all fairness, I shouldn't say "ALL". My oldest three are girls. The youngest, age 3, is my angel boy. His smile will melt the coldest of hearts, and his manners impress school personnel and gets him a free toy at the McD's in Walmart, even when we're not buying anything! If you ever wondered what a romantic hero may have been like as a young child, look no further than my little man. He will be a heartbreaker, and having three big sisters, he'll know women inside and out. And being my child, I'm sure he'll use that knowledge to its full extent. ~frown~ Sounds like he's going to be a player, doesn't it? Well, at least he'll be a cute player with killer manners. He already ushers girls before him through a door. Yes, that's right, he's three.

There. That's my "good" stuff. Don't ask about the girls. The blog will turn ugly, and fast. I'm at my wits end with those three. Do you ever want to pack up and simply drive away? I do. I don't think I'd be missed until one of two things happened:
1) They ran out of clean underwear, or
2) It became dinner time.

Having said that, I'm on a new quest to find another dress to replace that skinny POS I ordered that was obviously wrong-sized to the extreme. ~grrr~ And then there's entire synopsis thing going on. Referring to my above bytching of my daughters, let's just say that the revamping of my synop was filled with more tears than blood. And as my title bar suggests, the blood wasn't even mine. Too much stuff has been going on this week, especially with my four year old, and with my illnesses really working against me AND her going mental, I've been beyond drugged. Drugged + Synopsis = A novel written on bad crack. Not good for a publishing career, I'm a'thinkin'.

Since I needed a totally rewritten synop for The Sheila, and since the postmark deadline is oh...TODAY...you'd make a lot of money if you placed a bet that I wouldn't get it done on time. So ~maniacal laugh inserted here~ I'm scrapping the idea of The Sheila and heading on to The Molly. Thankfully, one of my dearest email buddies says The Molly is a fabulous contest to enter and I *should* concentrate on that one. And it's a good thing to, because:
1) The deadline isn't until later in the month, and
2) NO SYNOPSIS is required.

Now, to those sweet souls helping me with my synop (Gina, this means you! And Allison, too, although she's the Queen of the Query), not only do I appreciate you putting up with my flakiness this week, but I'm letting you know it's not over. I may not need the synop for the contest, but I DO need a solid synop at SOME point, and given how many times I like to revise, it's best I start on this now. Don't sigh in disappointment..I can feel it all the way to Texas when you two do that!!

And then there's the Kiss of Death. Besides looking like a total freak shoved into a dress that's obviously mis-sized for the banquet, I'm Assistant Coffin Coordinator. As impressive as that sounds, it unfortunately does NOT mean I can shove those that annoy me into coffins. Yes, I know, I share the sounds of dismay from you all. BUT, poor Christine. I'm replacing her, and I've just been a mess lately. Hopefully we'll get together today and I'll figure out my duties and be able to perform them at least half as decently as she did. It's very daunting to come up behind someone that you know did a superb job. But I promise to do my best! And thankfully, I got Misty to hold my trembling hand! (Thanks, doll!)

In other contest news, I'm still waiting to hear back on the Fab Five of Wisc. I SO wish I could attend the conference because one of my all time favs is giving classes, the wonderful and perky Ms. Alicia Rasley. She's so awesome. If you haven't voted for Mentor of the Year (RWA), git yer butt in gear and if you want my opinion, vote for her! (If you don't want my opinion, you shouldn't be reading my blog! ~wink~) But, I don't think I can get there. However, I hope to hear about the finalist on their contests. And The Daphne, although that's not for quite some time, I don't think. (Since I'm on Koffin, I could ask, huh? I'm drugged. Just pat me on the head and say "That's okay, Bren, we understand.") I'm especially excited about The Daphne whether I place or not because the winner will be announced at Nationals during the KOD ceremony where one of my all time favs Jenny Crusie is the co-keynote speaker. In other words, LOTS of stuff going on and as summer draws closer, the more excited I'll get. God help you all that actually read this.

For the times I said to ignore me because I'm drugged, it's always been true. My daily meds would drunken up a stallion. This week, however, has been so horribly wicked that I'm more so than normal, so please excuse any typos in advance. And if you read this entire thing and you're still with me...well... you're either an alien or a masochist. Or, scarier still, a psychiatrist!

EVERYONE HIDE!

Black Sausage, anyone?

Every wonder what sausage would look like encased in shiny black silk? Wonder no more, my friend. I've seen it, and it ain't pretty. Trust me on this one.

Anyone need a size 8/10 formal? Cuz the tag on this one LIES!

Suck it in! Suck it in!

Yes, that's sang to the "plug it in" diddly. Don't ask why, cuz I don't know.

Here's the news. The black dress I ordered came in today. This is the one that's more semi-formal, where it just comes to my knees, has spaghetti straps then a scarf that goes around the neck and hangs down the back. Got the visual going there yet? Good. Keep THAT visual, because the one coming up is NOTHING as pretty as THAT.

Let me back up a bit. I recently lost a lot of weight (26 lbs) over the course of last year. In the last THREE months I've gained it all back, with two of my daily meds listing weight gain as a side-effect. Keeping THAT nasty little idea in mind, I ordered my old size.

Fast forward to my lily-white sitting on eBay looking at dresses and finding this cute little thing. Yes, it's in my "current" size, but I forgot one little important tidbit: formals run S M A L L. I held it up and though: Oh HELL no.

My 14 yr old is standing next to me. It fits her like a freakin' dream. SHE is a size 5/7. SO WHY would any twit put a big ol' double digit on the stupid dress! It's new with tags, and now I know why: Someone else bought it as the size 14/16 and realized it wouldn't fit on THEIR right thigh either, so left the tags on and put it on eBay, listing it New With Tags. (NWT). Guess what I'm about to do? The same friggin' thing.

~deep, cleansing sigh~

Now, just because I'm a flippin' moron and the mistress of all things masochist, I'm about to go to my room and attempt to push different pieces of flesh into the shiny satin fabric. Seriouly, I think a girdle would even run and hide at the aspect of fixing THIS problem.

To borrow a phrase from my friend, Eliana: Oy.
Stay tuned for the (ugly) update!