Being a Texas girl, I live and breathe football in the fall. And for a football fan and mom, Friday night and Saturday were AWESOME!
Aaron got his first chance to kick at the varsity level on Friday night. It’s six-man football, so field goals are rarely attempted, but he made 5 of 7 extra point attempts. That was pretty exciting. At least I thought so until this morning.
JV played their first game today and, frankly, our jv players are small and slow compared to most teams. But we didn’t count on the largeness of their hearts! They were down the entire game, but hung in there. When the center was hurt, Aaron stepped in and handled it. Our jv quarterback was battling a bad headache, so the backup QB stepped in and did beautifully. With 4 minutes left in the game they had the other team backed nearly to the end zone. Aaron made a hit, caused a fumble. We recovered and scored, putting us ahead by four! Of course, there was still time left and we had to stop them. They marched past mid-field. Their QB launched the ball into the air just as the buzzer sounded to end the game. AND MY AARON INTERCEPTED IT AT THE 10 YARD LINE!!!!
Game over. We win.
Amazing!
8/30/2008
8/27/2008
Meeting God at Every Turn
I read an incredibly wonderful book the other day—Catherine Marshall’s Meeting God at Every Turn. I’ve been wanting to read it for awhile, but I think the Lord saved it as an exclamation point to the weekend I spent finishing my book.
Catherine Marshall, in case the name rings a bell but you can’t quite place it, wrote the novel Christy, as well as the story of her husband, preacher Peter Marshall, A Man Called Peter. She wrote other books as well, a dozen or so, all told. Most were books on Christian living, and, I confess, I haven’t read any others of those. Just her two fiction works. Until now.
Meeting God at Every Turn was written just a few years before Catherine went to be with the Lord. It is the story of her life, but not just the events of that life. It is also the story of her spiritual journey. She talks about herself with such honesty, reveling her own shortcomings, her own wrong patterns of thought, and how God met her at each place, nurtured her into a deeper relationship with Him through the often painful twists and turns of life.
Besides challenging and convicting me, her words gave me a longing to strive every day to know God more fully, listen to Him more completely, and display Him more boldly.
Catherine Marshall, in case the name rings a bell but you can’t quite place it, wrote the novel Christy, as well as the story of her husband, preacher Peter Marshall, A Man Called Peter. She wrote other books as well, a dozen or so, all told. Most were books on Christian living, and, I confess, I haven’t read any others of those. Just her two fiction works. Until now.
Meeting God at Every Turn was written just a few years before Catherine went to be with the Lord. It is the story of her life, but not just the events of that life. It is also the story of her spiritual journey. She talks about herself with such honesty, reveling her own shortcomings, her own wrong patterns of thought, and how God met her at each place, nurtured her into a deeper relationship with Him through the often painful twists and turns of life.
Besides challenging and convicting me, her words gave me a longing to strive every day to know God more fully, listen to Him more completely, and display Him more boldly.
8/23/2008
Cover Story
Although two or three of my stories have found their way to the cover of NeighborsGo, the local magazine insert in The Dallas Morning News, I still get excited when it happens.
Today I awoke to find my story about the Mission HCA trip to Ghana, focused on the kids presenting school supplies to a village school. To me, having my story make the cover means I’ve found a noteworthy event to cover. That makes me feel good as a writer. And when it is an event so close to my heart, that’s even more fun.
But this particular cover stunned me: the picture they used was this one of Elizabeth!
To see the cover and read the piece, click here and scroll down to the "my stories" section.
8/21/2008
The Last First Day
And so it’s over: Elizabeth’s last First Day of School.
The pictures didn’t turn out.
She came home and slept.
Kind of anti-climactic, huh?
But whether it comes in with a bang or a gentle whisper, the Senior year has officially begun.
The pictures didn’t turn out.
She came home and slept.
Kind of anti-climactic, huh?
But whether it comes in with a bang or a gentle whisper, the Senior year has officially begun.
8/19/2008
Squashing the Olympic Dream
My fifteen-year-old son has the driest wit. We’ve been watching the Olympics, where, of course, there are often athletes competing that are close to his age. Here’s our conversation from the other day:
“Mom, you squashed my Olympic dream,” he said.
“I did what?”
“You squashed my Olympic dream.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly. “You wouldn’t buy me a ping-pong table or a badminton set. Now I’ll never win a gold medal.”
We have laughed about that for days now.
“Mom, you squashed my Olympic dream,” he said.
“I did what?”
“You squashed my Olympic dream.”
“How’s that?” I asked.
He shook his head slowly. “You wouldn’t buy me a ping-pong table or a badminton set. Now I’ll never win a gold medal.”
We have laughed about that for days now.
8/17/2008
Return of the Runaway
This has been a crazy-busy summer. Between “normal” teenager stuff (social life, appointments, sports, work, etc, etc.) times 3, trying to get my house organized, dealing with a boatload of responsibility at my kids’ school that got dumped in my lap, and putting the finishing spit and polish on my novel, I’ve teetered on the edge of sanity! So last Thursday I ran away—with the permission of my family, of course!
I spent two and a half days ALONE in a cabin, with nothing but my computer, my Bible and my ipod. It was glorious. I spent some uninterrupted time with the Lord. I worked through the last edits on my book, readying it to send to an agent. I slept. I even watched a movie. And I reveled in the silence.
I came home refreshed in body, mind, and spirit. My book will go in the mail on Wednesday. Now I’m ready to concentrate on school and football and college decisions and catching up with friends and getting ready for my trip to the ACFW conference. And I’m ready to keep up with my blog again!
I spent two and a half days ALONE in a cabin, with nothing but my computer, my Bible and my ipod. It was glorious. I spent some uninterrupted time with the Lord. I worked through the last edits on my book, readying it to send to an agent. I slept. I even watched a movie. And I reveled in the silence.
I came home refreshed in body, mind, and spirit. My book will go in the mail on Wednesday. Now I’m ready to concentrate on school and football and college decisions and catching up with friends and getting ready for my trip to the ACFW conference. And I’m ready to keep up with my blog again!
8/05/2008
Not That!
Last year I took on a volunteer role at school that I didn’t want to do. It required two things—organization and coordinating people. I can organize, but I don’t particularly like to lead, or even organize, people. So at the end of last school year I purposefully took on a different job, one in which the duties involved organization alone. No dealing with other people.
Or so I thought.
Suddenly I find myself thrust into the same position I hated, but on a larger scale, and in addition to the job I so smugly assumed was my protection against the other. Yesterday I was ready to scream and cry and throw a bit fit. But after looking again and again at the other options (of which there weren’t any), a thought suddenly struck me: maybe the Lord allowed this. Maybe He wants me to learn how to deal with people.
Not a happy thought, let me tell you. I don’t like it. I don’t do it well. It frustrates me to tell people what needs to be done and have them ignore or dismiss me. And yet, in spite of finagling my life to avoid such a thing, here it is again. So I am accepting this as the hand of the Lord. Teaching me. Stretching me. Again. Continually. It never stops. Even when I feel like protesting that I’m as grown up as I want to be. It all goes back to that word the Lord spoke to my heart so many years ago: I love you so much I have to grow you up.
It’s one small lesson amidst a lifetime of others. Maybe I can get it one right this time. Or at least more right than I got it last year.
Or so I thought.
Suddenly I find myself thrust into the same position I hated, but on a larger scale, and in addition to the job I so smugly assumed was my protection against the other. Yesterday I was ready to scream and cry and throw a bit fit. But after looking again and again at the other options (of which there weren’t any), a thought suddenly struck me: maybe the Lord allowed this. Maybe He wants me to learn how to deal with people.
Not a happy thought, let me tell you. I don’t like it. I don’t do it well. It frustrates me to tell people what needs to be done and have them ignore or dismiss me. And yet, in spite of finagling my life to avoid such a thing, here it is again. So I am accepting this as the hand of the Lord. Teaching me. Stretching me. Again. Continually. It never stops. Even when I feel like protesting that I’m as grown up as I want to be. It all goes back to that word the Lord spoke to my heart so many years ago: I love you so much I have to grow you up.
It’s one small lesson amidst a lifetime of others. Maybe I can get it one right this time. Or at least more right than I got it last year.
8/02/2008
Summer's Waning Days
I’ve been quiet lately. No, not because I’ve been sitting around a pool, book in hand, cool drink by my side. I only wish! Alas, I’ve been busy with too many other things—cleaning out my house, writing, grocery shopping, laundry, piano lessons, etc.
Today, I took my kids to get their sports physicals. My son, my 10th grader, came in at 5’8” tall, 108 pounds. I had to laugh. Those were my stats the day I married! I told him he could fit in my wedding dress (almost)! (He didn’t seem to appreciate that.) Anyway, it makes it official. He is as tall as I am. And my youngest son is just a couple of inches behind. Yikes!
So football two-a-days kick off on Monday, which means summer is officially over. Kind of. Two and a half weeks until classes actually start. In between are orthodontist appointments, dentist appointments, piano lessons, and, of course, football practices. My kids may bemoan the fact that their days of freedom are nearly at an end, but I have to say: I’m so ready for a regular routine!
Today, I took my kids to get their sports physicals. My son, my 10th grader, came in at 5’8” tall, 108 pounds. I had to laugh. Those were my stats the day I married! I told him he could fit in my wedding dress (almost)! (He didn’t seem to appreciate that.) Anyway, it makes it official. He is as tall as I am. And my youngest son is just a couple of inches behind. Yikes!
So football two-a-days kick off on Monday, which means summer is officially over. Kind of. Two and a half weeks until classes actually start. In between are orthodontist appointments, dentist appointments, piano lessons, and, of course, football practices. My kids may bemoan the fact that their days of freedom are nearly at an end, but I have to say: I’m so ready for a regular routine!
7/27/2008
Images of Days Gone By
My daughter, who is co-editor of the yearbook at school, pulled out all our old yearbooks this weekend. She wanted to see “how far yearbooks had come.” You know, since the olden days.
Back when, I explained to her, the yearbook staff took their pictures with real film and even, in some cases, developed those pictures themselves in dark rooms on the school campus. No weeding through thousands of digital pictures for that perfect one to splash on the yearbook page. No, “archaic” yearbook staffs had to make do with the pictures they took, never knowing until well after the event how they had turned out.
But beyond the scrutiny of the yearbooks’ layout and content, my kids got a kick out of the “senior awards” in both my husband’s and my senior yearbook. In his, he was voted “Mostly Likely to Make a Million.” Over the course of eighteen years as a lawyer, he probably has. I, on the other hand, was given the “Nervous, Klutz, Reckless Driver” award.
Of course, to make counteract such an auspicious award, I held up my final high school transcript, which happened to fall from the pages of that yearbook. My ACT score was quite respectable, as was my GPA. So while I may not have garnered much respect socially, I was stellar in the classroom.
The trip down memory lane was fun, though. I can’t believe we are embarking on her last year of high school. It has gone so fast. But she is excited to know that the memories to be made in this milestone year will find their way into a yearbook created by her direction. That will be an accomplishment she can cherish for years to come.
Back when, I explained to her, the yearbook staff took their pictures with real film and even, in some cases, developed those pictures themselves in dark rooms on the school campus. No weeding through thousands of digital pictures for that perfect one to splash on the yearbook page. No, “archaic” yearbook staffs had to make do with the pictures they took, never knowing until well after the event how they had turned out.
But beyond the scrutiny of the yearbooks’ layout and content, my kids got a kick out of the “senior awards” in both my husband’s and my senior yearbook. In his, he was voted “Mostly Likely to Make a Million.” Over the course of eighteen years as a lawyer, he probably has. I, on the other hand, was given the “Nervous, Klutz, Reckless Driver” award.
Of course, to make counteract such an auspicious award, I held up my final high school transcript, which happened to fall from the pages of that yearbook. My ACT score was quite respectable, as was my GPA. So while I may not have garnered much respect socially, I was stellar in the classroom.
The trip down memory lane was fun, though. I can’t believe we are embarking on her last year of high school. It has gone so fast. But she is excited to know that the memories to be made in this milestone year will find their way into a yearbook created by her direction. That will be an accomplishment she can cherish for years to come.
7/22/2008
Kristy Dykes
I never imagined someone I’d never met could touch my heart so deeply. Since last November, I’ve been following the journey of Kristy Dykes, writer and ACFW member, and her unexpected diagnosis of a brain tumor. Her husband Milton kept up her blog at her request. I feel I’ve come to know not only this fellow writer, but this family. And what I’ve come to know has blessed me beyond words.
Kristy’s and Milton’s deep, strong faith came shining through the blog, but so did their understanding of life in the here and now. Humor and grief marched side-by-side through their harrowing ordeal. Their fierce love for each other, in spite of their admitted flaws, challenged me in my own relationships.
Kristy went to be with Jesus yesterday. I wept this morning as I read the words. But her story is not over. Kristy’s words and Milton’s words about Kristy will continue to affect the lives of others for a long time to come.
Kristy’s and Milton’s deep, strong faith came shining through the blog, but so did their understanding of life in the here and now. Humor and grief marched side-by-side through their harrowing ordeal. Their fierce love for each other, in spite of their admitted flaws, challenged me in my own relationships.
Kristy went to be with Jesus yesterday. I wept this morning as I read the words. But her story is not over. Kristy’s words and Milton’s words about Kristy will continue to affect the lives of others for a long time to come.
7/20/2008
Pound By Pound
Is it any wonder I’m gaining weight? It would be impossible to spend enough hours at the gym to counteract my daughter’s culinary experiments. This morning it was homemade donuts. We tried to make things healthier. She made whole wheat ones for my husband and I. And we had a fresh fruit salad on the side. But whole wheat donuts are still donuts, in all their fried and sugar-coated glory.
7/13/2008
New York City--Boy Style
A Yankee game from the lower deck—thanks to one of my husband’s clients.
Pizza. And more pizza. And more pizza. And burgers. And more pizza. And desserts.
Central Park.
Times Square.
Niketown.
We did make them go to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. And they finally okayed the American Museum of Natural History since it was across the street from our hotel. But overall, quite a different trip from the ones I’ve taken before. I will say this—never again will I have to do the overview tour bus. I’ve now done it with all of my children!
But New York is New York. The city energizes me somehow. I’m sure it wouldn’t be the same if I lived there, but when I visit, I wake up ready for the adventure of each new day and I fall asleep without effort.
Now I’m home to my crazy yet mundane life.
Pizza. And more pizza. And more pizza. And burgers. And more pizza. And desserts.
Central Park.
Times Square.
Niketown.
We did make them go to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island. And they finally okayed the American Museum of Natural History since it was across the street from our hotel. But overall, quite a different trip from the ones I’ve taken before. I will say this—never again will I have to do the overview tour bus. I’ve now done it with all of my children!
But New York is New York. The city energizes me somehow. I’m sure it wouldn’t be the same if I lived there, but when I visit, I wake up ready for the adventure of each new day and I fall asleep without effort.
Now I’m home to my crazy yet mundane life.
7/01/2008
The Storm Before the Calm
Vacation is great. I love getting away from my normal four walls and my normal routine. Whether it be to visit family or sightsee or sit on a beach or ski down a slope, I always enjoy it—when I’m there.
It’s the getting ready to go that nearly undoes me.
I’m in that mode at the moment. Suitcases litter the house. The washing machine runs non-stop. Lists beget lists.
It truly is the storm before the calm. I know once we get out the door I will breathe a sigh of relief. Then vacation begins.
It’s the getting ready to go that nearly undoes me.
I’m in that mode at the moment. Suitcases litter the house. The washing machine runs non-stop. Lists beget lists.
It truly is the storm before the calm. I know once we get out the door I will breathe a sigh of relief. Then vacation begins.
6/26/2008
Cars
Since last Tuesday (June 17):
My daughter's car has been inspected, had the oil changed, and received two new tires.
My SUV has had new brakes--twice, the first parts proving defective--been inspected, had the tires rotated, and received a new battery.
My husband's car has been involved in an accident (while I was driving--not my fault) and is awaiting repairs to the front fender, bumper, and door. Of course this is after I spent time with the other guy's insurance adjuster and recounted the accident to two different insurance representatives.
The only expected things in this list were the state inspections. Everything else was a surprise. I'm so ready for all my cars to just need gas. As painful as it is to fill up, it's much better than being on a first name basis with the guys at the garage!
My daughter's car has been inspected, had the oil changed, and received two new tires.
My SUV has had new brakes--twice, the first parts proving defective--been inspected, had the tires rotated, and received a new battery.
My husband's car has been involved in an accident (while I was driving--not my fault) and is awaiting repairs to the front fender, bumper, and door. Of course this is after I spent time with the other guy's insurance adjuster and recounted the accident to two different insurance representatives.
The only expected things in this list were the state inspections. Everything else was a surprise. I'm so ready for all my cars to just need gas. As painful as it is to fill up, it's much better than being on a first name basis with the guys at the garage!
6/25/2008
Anniversary Surprise
I heard my husband’s footsteps yesterday afternoon. At least they sounded like his. But it was only 2 pm. Why was he home? I’d just spoken with him on the phone 15 minutes earlier and he seemed busy, not inclined to just take the afternoon off.
“Honey? Is that you?” I left my study and headed toward the living room. There he stood, hands behind his back.
“Happy Anniversary!” he said. (Our 21st anniversary is Friday.) He pulled a thin, rectangular box with an Apple logo on it from behind his back. A Macbook!!! I couldn’t believe it! It was especially timely since this weekend, on top of all its other problems, my laptop decided it didn’t want to stay powered on more than 5 or 10 minutes at a time.
So I’ve been happily switching all my files and learning how to navigate this new system. The best thing is I can take it on vacation next week and actually use plane and train travel time to get some work done!!
So Happy Anniversary to me. Isn’t my Honey great?
“Honey? Is that you?” I left my study and headed toward the living room. There he stood, hands behind his back.
“Happy Anniversary!” he said. (Our 21st anniversary is Friday.) He pulled a thin, rectangular box with an Apple logo on it from behind his back. A Macbook!!! I couldn’t believe it! It was especially timely since this weekend, on top of all its other problems, my laptop decided it didn’t want to stay powered on more than 5 or 10 minutes at a time.
So I’ve been happily switching all my files and learning how to navigate this new system. The best thing is I can take it on vacation next week and actually use plane and train travel time to get some work done!!
So Happy Anniversary to me. Isn’t my Honey great?
6/20/2008
Minneapolis, Here I Come!
I just finished all my registration for the ACFW Conference in September in Minneapolis! Woo-hoo! It will be my 5th major conference to attend since I started seriously writing seven years ago. And it will be a very different experience from the previous four.
Why? Because I’m going it alone. That’s right, neither of my critique partners and dear friends will be there. On the one hand, I’m sad. We’ve had so much fun rooming together, talking through our encounters and classes each day while we are lying in bed. We’ve laughed and cried and encouraged each other. I will miss them terribly! But on the other hand, it’s a good thing. Suddenly I will have no one to hide behind, no one to shadow in a room full of hundreds of people. I will have to step out and make friends. Oh, there will be people there I know. Just not ones I know as well as I know Mary and Leslie!
I would still really like to find a roommate for the conference, but I’m leaving that in the hands of the Lord. I’m excited to see who He will bring along to share the room I’ve reserved. And I’m excited to see the fruit of my growing confidence over the past few years. It will be hard to go it alone. And yet I know I won’t be alone. I will have the strength and encouragement of my God, the prayers of my friends and family, and a whole new passel of friends yet to be met.
Why? Because I’m going it alone. That’s right, neither of my critique partners and dear friends will be there. On the one hand, I’m sad. We’ve had so much fun rooming together, talking through our encounters and classes each day while we are lying in bed. We’ve laughed and cried and encouraged each other. I will miss them terribly! But on the other hand, it’s a good thing. Suddenly I will have no one to hide behind, no one to shadow in a room full of hundreds of people. I will have to step out and make friends. Oh, there will be people there I know. Just not ones I know as well as I know Mary and Leslie!
I would still really like to find a roommate for the conference, but I’m leaving that in the hands of the Lord. I’m excited to see who He will bring along to share the room I’ve reserved. And I’m excited to see the fruit of my growing confidence over the past few years. It will be hard to go it alone. And yet I know I won’t be alone. I will have the strength and encouragement of my God, the prayers of my friends and family, and a whole new passel of friends yet to be met.
6/19/2008
You're Gonna Miss This
It’s been a crazy few days getting my daughter ready for her Ghana trip and my son back to the campground where he is working day camps for refugee children. I’ve wanted to pull my hair out, been frustrated at my to-do list that gets longer instead of shorter. But all this morning as we readied to leave for the airport, the chorus of the new Trace Atkins song kept running through my mind.
Have you heard this song? It follows a girl from her teenaged years through being a new bride and a young mother. At the end of each chorus, an older person gives her some advice (the chorus.) Now, I’m not overly sentimental about my kids growing up and leaving home. I’ve always looked forward to an empty nest. And yet I find myself singing these words and tearing up:
You’re gonna miss this.
You’re gonna want this back.
You’re gonna wish these days, hadn’t gone by so fast.
These are some good times. So take a good look around,
You may not know it now—but you’re gonna miss this.
And for anyone interested, my daughter’s mission team has a blog they will be updating throughout their trip. You can read it here.
Have you heard this song? It follows a girl from her teenaged years through being a new bride and a young mother. At the end of each chorus, an older person gives her some advice (the chorus.) Now, I’m not overly sentimental about my kids growing up and leaving home. I’ve always looked forward to an empty nest. And yet I find myself singing these words and tearing up:
You’re gonna miss this.
You’re gonna want this back.
You’re gonna wish these days, hadn’t gone by so fast.
These are some good times. So take a good look around,
You may not know it now—but you’re gonna miss this.
And for anyone interested, my daughter’s mission team has a blog they will be updating throughout their trip. You can read it here.
6/17/2008
Caddying
I have never—I repeat, NEVER—watched golf on TV. Until yesterday. Yesterday I was captivated by the playoff between Tiger Woods and Rocco Mediate, captured by the intense drama of a 45-year-old man ranked 158th in the world playing 18 holes with arguably the best golfer ever and hanging in there, until the final stroke of the sudden death hole.
But you know what else I noticed as I watched? The caddies. These guys are dedicated to golf. They follow around the guys who play the game (and make the big bucks) with the bag of clubs slung over their back day after day after day. They help the golfer chose the right club for the right shot. Tiger’s caddy even stopped him just before a shot and asked him to reconsider his approach. “That was a brave thing to do,” said one of the TV commentators. And yet, it just seemed right. After all, the caddy wanted his guy to play well. Thus, his last minute questioning of the shot.
As I watched the support and the camaraderie between the caddies and the golfers, it occurred to me that some of us are called to a “caddying” role in our lives. The caddy has his golfer’s success as his goal. He understands the game in minute detail and advises and encourages the one actually doing the golfing. His is not the place in the spotlight. It’s behind the golfer, mostly out of the view of the cameras. It’s a sweaty, back-breaking job. And yet, for those called to do it, it appears to be immensely rewarding.
Are you “caddying” for someone in your life right now? Perhaps someone is “caddying” for you. Either way, remember that the person doing the thankless job of carrying the clubs and giving advice and support is often more valuable than the winning purse at the end.
But you know what else I noticed as I watched? The caddies. These guys are dedicated to golf. They follow around the guys who play the game (and make the big bucks) with the bag of clubs slung over their back day after day after day. They help the golfer chose the right club for the right shot. Tiger’s caddy even stopped him just before a shot and asked him to reconsider his approach. “That was a brave thing to do,” said one of the TV commentators. And yet, it just seemed right. After all, the caddy wanted his guy to play well. Thus, his last minute questioning of the shot.
As I watched the support and the camaraderie between the caddies and the golfers, it occurred to me that some of us are called to a “caddying” role in our lives. The caddy has his golfer’s success as his goal. He understands the game in minute detail and advises and encourages the one actually doing the golfing. His is not the place in the spotlight. It’s behind the golfer, mostly out of the view of the cameras. It’s a sweaty, back-breaking job. And yet, for those called to do it, it appears to be immensely rewarding.
Are you “caddying” for someone in your life right now? Perhaps someone is “caddying” for you. Either way, remember that the person doing the thankless job of carrying the clubs and giving advice and support is often more valuable than the winning purse at the end.
6/16/2008
Summer Whine
I can’t think of anything to write.
My daughter leaves for Ghana in 3 days—and works every day until then.
Two of our cars need to go to the shop for inspections and repairs.
My novel is sooooo close to being finished, but chunks of writing time elude me.
I need to call insurance companies with questions about my coverage/policies.
Most of my closets and cabinets are begging to be cleaned out and reorganized.
And I’m fighting either a cold or allergies.
The bank. The grocery store. Laundry.
Summer is supposed to be fun and relaxing. I’m supposed to have time to write, too. And that begins when?
My daughter leaves for Ghana in 3 days—and works every day until then.
Two of our cars need to go to the shop for inspections and repairs.
My novel is sooooo close to being finished, but chunks of writing time elude me.
I need to call insurance companies with questions about my coverage/policies.
Most of my closets and cabinets are begging to be cleaned out and reorganized.
And I’m fighting either a cold or allergies.
The bank. The grocery store. Laundry.
Summer is supposed to be fun and relaxing. I’m supposed to have time to write, too. And that begins when?
6/10/2008
Two Quirky Stories
So I was in Wal-mart the other day and I saw the most unusual (read: creepy) tattoo. I passed behind a woman wearing a spaghetti-strap top. On her back, between her shoulder blades, were two eyes. Women’s eyes, with eyebrows and just the top of the nose. I’ve heard of wanting eyes in the back of your head, but this went a bit too far!
***********************
My husband’s father often sends us tidbits from their small-town’s newspaper. One from this week announced found property: a bag of marijuana. It said the owner, with proof of ownership, could pick it up at the police station. The thing is, someone will probably try to claim it!
***********************
My husband’s father often sends us tidbits from their small-town’s newspaper. One from this week announced found property: a bag of marijuana. It said the owner, with proof of ownership, could pick it up at the police station. The thing is, someone will probably try to claim it!
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