It Takes Some Balls

So during my blogging break things kept happening and I would think, this would be funny to blog about, only I wouldn't because I was taking a blogging break.  I probably can't remember all of them, but I can remember a few.  Since it is Monday - I'm going to try to do a M thru F Things I Should Have Blogged About And Didn't series.  What do you think?

I'm spinning my Mental Wheel.....and I've landed on what I shall call the Balls in Politics Story.

Oh! And I'm NOT going to blog about Rush.  I'm so totally not going to do that.  Although, if I WERE going to do that - I would say he's an A-Hole.  Right now, at this very moment, I'm strongly resisting the urge to talk about Rush.  Like....trying REALLY hard not to. 

I resisted! I did!  My pulse is still up a bit - but I resisted.  I'm going to talk about Texas Politics as I experience it on a daily basis.  Here's my blog-worthy story:

I had pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and was gathering up all of my Liberal Commie Canvas Reusable Bags.  My door was open while I did this, and a gentleman approached me.

He had an impressive ZZ Top beard, a gimme cap, and a big smile.  I wasn't alarmed at all - he was grinning from ear to ear.  Honestly, I thought he was going to ask me if I had jumper cables or something ridiculous like that - I mean - I'm sure I have some but honestly.... 

"Howdy," he said, tipping his gimme cap and grinning.

"Howdy," I said.  Because we're in Texas.

Camille pokes her head over from the back seat.  And we wait, expectantly, for this gentleman to ask us if we have jumper cables or possible $1 for the Mad Dog Fund.

He chuckles a little, winks, and says, "Girl, you got some balls with them bumper stickers."

I had not expected that.  He walked off, shaking his head and chuckling, and when he drove off?  He had Honest To God Balls hanging from his truck.

I wanted to shout, "No, dude! YOU have balls!"  But I was kind of in shock from the attack on my bumper stickers.  Now then, unless this guy has something against large families or the Red Hot Chili Peppers...

I think he might have been talking about these...

They're old and I need new ones.  But seriously, I think this is what he was referring to.  'Cause we're in Texas. And this was seen as unusual and alarming.  And it's just the beginning, because once the Republican primaries are over - I'm going to start getting The Finger on a regular basis and I really hate that.  Especially when I have my kids in the car and people whiz past (often with a Christian Fish Symbol) and flip us off with all kinds of class and whatnot.  At least the parking lot guy didn't do that.  He just said "balls" in front of my precious 9-year-old daughter.  By the way, when telling this story, I am often asked what I said in response.  I do not recollect saying anything, but Camille assures me that I said Thank You.  I can believe this because, when push comes to shove and I am speechless, I can totally see myself falling back on my sweet southern girl manners.

"You've got balls, little lady!"

"Why, thank you sir!"

Yeah.  Apparently, it went something like that.

While I'm bizarrely posting pictures of my bumper stickers online, let me show you the rest.  This here is PROOF that I didn't wait until Rick Perry made a national spectacle of himself before withholding my support.  I voted for Bill White for governor - and I keep the sticker up because I'm: a) too lazy to remove it and b) just a tad bit obnoxious.

Signing Off With Balls,
Sardine Mama

Remember Me?

Someone begged me to blog today. So here I am.

I wasn't kidding when I said I wasn't going to be blogging as much, was I?  Like I totally wasn't bluffing.  It was not an Idle Threat. I mean, I haven't blogged since Jan 14 and now it is March 1 and that is crazy.

Really, it's been so long since we've spoken - it's a bit awkward, no? 

Whenever I have time to write - I work on my manuscript.  Or I sit and think about working on my manuscript.  Or I read writing blogs or e-mail my writing buddy about how much writing sucks or I read books that I like to pretend are worse than mine. And really, that's kind of all I've been doing.  Ask the kids, they'll tell you.

Well, maybe I've been doing a few other things:

I've gone vegan.  For reals. I'm having a soy mocha at this very moment.  Watched Forks Over Knives and that did it for me.  I dropped 14 pds - easiest weight loss of my life.  Jeff's dropped about forty - which is insane.  Speaking of vegans and the Red Hot Chili Peppers - oh my - were we talking about the Red Hot Chili Peppers?  Well, we are now.  Look at this pic and see if you can spot the vegan!

Since we are now talking Chili Peppers - you guys know we have floor seats for the upcoming concert, right?  The one that is supposed to be next week?  Well, it's been postponed due to an injury Anthony obtained from the Stadium Arcadium tour (a million years ago) that never healed.  I'm telling you - OLD ROCK STARS SUCK. I should dump those guys. But who wants to start all over?

Speaking of concerts - last week we went to see Matisyahu.  We took Joel because he's a big fan.  My sister got the tickets without really paying attention as to what they were for - which is no big deal because we'd go see him regardless - but I wasn't prepared for a theater full of Chabad Lubavitchers and an Acoustical Evening of Inspiration.  This was a fund-raiser in an extremely small theater - really amazing.  It was just Matisyahu and his guitarist - awesome, awesome, awesome.  I could have done without the opening act, which consisted of rabbis talking and talking and talking and talking about what I can't tell you because I'm really not an opening act sort of girl - I'm a let's do dinner and miss the opening act kind of girl. And then the one time I show up on time it's a bunch of rabbis.

So now I have a God Awful Confession.  I really do.  You're going to hate me after you read this.  While we were watching everyone stream into the theater for the concert, I couldn't help but notice two young men walk in who looked different from everyone else.  I wasn't TRYING to look for people who stood out.  I was innocently minding my own business and trying not to stand out myself.  So yarmulke after yarmulke strolls in and then, as I said, these two guys and they are definitely Middle Eastern but not Israeli Middle Eastern.  One of them was wearing an Actual Members Only Jacket.  And all I could think of was that every Jew in S. Texas was currently in this theater - trapped in this tiny theater - crammed into this theater - and you know, these two guys walk in and I started to sweat.  They sat four rows in front of us.  I didn't say anything because DUH - that would make me a HORRIBLE PERSON.  Well, I didn't say anything at first.  But remaining silent (about anything) is not something I've ever quite gotten the hang of and so I leaned over to Joel, who was sitting silently next to me staring straight ahead because that is what teenage boys do when they're sitting next to their mothers, and I said, "So..."  and that's all I said! I swear! And he says, "Don't be a racist."  Which technically makes him a racist or he wouldn't have know what I was going to say.  But anyway, I told him I wanted to trade seats because they had a clear shot at him, and he's my baby, after all - and he refused to trade seats with me but did promise to reach over and use me as a human shield if the need arose and that, of course, made me feel much better.  I forgot all about those young men as soon as the music started.  But still - yeah, I carry the Shame.

It reminded me of the time Jules and I were in line to go through security at LAX when a Middle Eastern man was pulled out of line. He looked extremely irritated, as he had every right to be, and I went on and on to Jules about how his human rights were being violated and it was racial profiling and somebody should do something and we shook our heads and felt all indignant and outraged over the injustice being inflicted on that poor man.  We talked about it all the way to our plane.  And we talked about it as we sat on the plane, waiting for a final passenger, about how awful it was and what we had just witnessed and we were maybe going to write some letters and then the final passenger got on and it was The Poor Middle Eastern Man and I leaned over and said to Jules, "God, I hope they did a cavity search...."  I KNOW! I already said I'm a horrible person! Go ahead, I said you could judge me.

I'm on a roll now.  Just free-writing, as they say.

We had an anniversary! Our 26th.  Remember last year's? It was not that exciting.  Thank God. We rented a little house in the Texas Hill Country that was supposed to resemble a tiny chapel, and it did.  These were the front windows.

There were angels at the tops of the windows.

The chapel part isn't what drew me (although it was a lovely little home), it was the private hot tub on the deck.  From the hot tub you could look out at a flowing creek with a small waterfall.  It was quite lovely from that angle.

From that angle.  From the other angle? I had to look into the house whose backyard we were in!! Argh. I hate that.  I said I wanted secluded, and the agent told me this was secluded.  Dude - we live on 150 acres so I guess my idea of secluded is a little different than other folks' ideas of secluded.  Mostly the couple in the Big House just watched TV.  I know because I couldn't stop watching them watch TV.  Jeff would say, "Just come sit over here. Stop looking."  And I was like, "I can't.  Look, she made popcorn." And then he would look and we would both agree that she had made popcorn.

There was a guest book in the house.  I refuse to sign guest books because it just seems weird.  But I read every page.  People wrote where they were from, why they had come, what they did, where they ate....yada yada.  Everyone who wrote in the guest book talked about how nice the owners, Pat and Sandy, were.  Pat and Sandy were so nice! Loved Pat and Sandy! Hope to keep in touch with Pat and Sandy! So Jeff and I couldn't relax at all because we kept waiting to be ambushed by Pat and Sandy. Anytime a twig snapped, we thought it was Pat and Sandy.  Seriously, you know, do you want to be in the claw-footed bathtub celebrating your anniversary when Pat and Sandy finally decide to make their move???  It was nerve-wracking. It was a relief when it finally happened, although I don't think it was a relief for Pat. Or maybe it was Sandy.  Those are very sexually ambiguous names.

Jeff was running around the creek bed at 2 in the morning with a headlamp on, you know, like most normal men do...looking for kindling to keep the fire going in the fireplace.  And Pat (or Sandy) saw the light and thought maybe it was suspicious and he came sneaking up behind Jeff to see what he was doing and they startled each other and I'm not entirely sure that Pat/Sandy believed that he was looking for kindling instead of burying a body but nobody came looking to see if I was dead, which come to think of it, Pat/Sandy should have because he very well could have drowned me in the hot tub while they were busy eating popcorn - and then he was trying to dispose of the body because HELLO - it was 2 am and he was wandering around the creek bed with a flashlight strapped to his head!

Although, after 26 years, I think I'm safe.  If he was gonna do it, he'd have done it by now. Jules took this picture on our anniversary when we took the kids hiking.  And I like this picture.

Other News:
Camille danced in Copellia.  Here are pics. I hated being backstage - I am not good at it. She was precious and beautiful and perfect and I cried. 

Here are some pics of Camille - backstage.

And that is all....For Now. Let me know what you've been up to.

My Friend Mark

You've probably read his comments on my blog.  He always signs off as Your Friend, Mark.  Actually, I'm not sure if he uses the comma.  I thought I was super special-like but then I found out  he signs comments on Other People's Blogs as Your Friend, Mark.  But on mine sometimes he just says, "m" and so that means I'm special, right? Does he do that on your blog or is it just mine?

No matter. Mark is funny. That's what you all love about him.  He's also a good husband and an exceptional father and a fine photographer. 

His family is facing an unbelievable struggle right now. A ridiculous, inhuman, nightmarish struggle.  You can learn more about his family's situation from this CNN feature.  YES THEY WERE ON CNN! It would be all fun and exciting if only it were about something else...like how their dog saved the neighbors from a burning building or how they found buried treasure in their backyard. But it isn't.  It is about their desperation to keep their family together.

Please watch. And you can drop Mark a note to wish him good luck and tell him how handsome he looked on his blog.

2011 - It's a Wrap

2011 - Be Gone With Ye!  What am I saying? It wasn't that bad.  It wasn't bad at all.  It had some rough patches but every year does.

Let's wrap it up, shall we? 

2011 was the year Jeff and I celebrated our 25th Wedding Anniversary. Remember that?  We snuck off for a weekend and Ellie wrecked my sister's car and then hours later Joel broke Jules' hand during a Matrix Re-enactment.  So we hit the year running with a jolt of adrenaline and we just skidded into 2012 last night with nary a catastrophe.  On Wednesday we'll celebrate 26 years of marriage - but we're not sneaking off until sometime in February.  We have to align the planets first and make a few other arrangements - like alert the orthopedic surgeon we keep on retainer. 

In 2011 Jules turned 13 and Camille turned 9 the very next day due to poor planning on our parts.  It seemed all momentous at the time, but now, here they are turning 14 and 10 this coming weekend.  Whoosh! Times goes by so quickly.  Jules looks like a totally different kid.  BIG TIME CHANGES.  For one thing, he's almost as tall as his brother now.  This picture was taken in August, and now, just a few months later, Jules is only about an inch shorter than Joel.

And quite a bit taller than me!

For Jules 2011 is also going to be embedded in our memories as the year his brain tumor finally woke up.  After six years of monitoring, we'd begun to let ourselves hope that maybe it was just going to stay asleep - like - FOREVER.  But it didn't. Puberty startled it awake.  The last trip to the House Clinic  and St. Vincent's Hospital in Los Angeles was a traumatic one. 

Below is a pic I snapped of Jules heading down the hospital hallway with Jeff.  I remember being struck by the image of the two of them together; by how tall Jules was compared to the early days of the tumor, when he was but Jasper's age and oh-so-tiny.  But somehow, as I watched them walk away from me all I could see was how small and fragile he still seemed.  And really, how small and fragile his daddy looked, too.  Because that's how we feel as parents when faced with something like this: small and fragile and vulnerable and helpless - no matter how big and strong we appear on the outside. 

So 2012 will be the year we finally rid ourselves of the brain tumor.  It's a relief - but also a bit overwhelming, as you can probably imagine.  We head back to Los Angeles in April, and then surgery will probably happen in May.  It'll just be the three of us making the trip - being away from the other kids for something so intense will be difficult, but we're confident this is the group of doctors we want operating on our son.  

2011 was also the Year of My Abandonment....Ellie left for college - a long, drawn-out process of grief that you people suffered through the entire year.  After all the work of auditioning and interviewing and meeting and greeting - not to mention all of the hoops we jumped through as homeschoolers - she decided on a music school (the full scholarship plus money for summer European music festivals heavily influenced the decision).  So off she went and guess what?  I lived. And she's doing GREAT, of course.

                                                    2011 saw Joel go from THIS:

To THIS:



He did it in stages, it didn't all get sheared off in one sitting - that would have been too much for him.  But he likes it short now. He also got his first summer job (lifeguarding at the city pool), bought his first car (Ellie's old pimp car), and EARNED HIS FREAKING BLACK BELT!!

He's still making movies with GimliSnort - is saving for a better camera and can't wait to start playing with some new editing software.  He likes to do animation, but at a recent homeschool co-op meeting, he and his GimliSnort cohorts produced this little dandy in just a few minutes during lunch break.  So now they're hoping to branch out into Live Action (!!) films.  I love that you can hear our turkeys throughout the entire thing, inappropriately entitled, Chicken Kicken.



For Camille 2011 meant More Dancing.  She started the year with a promotion in ballet.  She now dances six hours/week at the studio and that is sure to increase with the next promotion.  But I'm hoping that won't happen during 2012 - at least not before we can sell The Bus and buy a smaller, more efficient car.  2011 was also the Year of the Cast for Camille.  We saw the same orthopedist we saw with Jules.  There are still two of our kids the man hasn't met.  Hopefully he won't meet them in 2012 or EVER.

Poor baby had to audition for The Nutcracker while wearing that cast! And swim, too, of course. Casts have come a long way since I was a kid!

For Jasper, 2011 was just one more year of Being In Charge of the World.  The little guy has it made.  He does what he wants, when he wants, and how he wants.  There can't be anything better than being seven years old in a non-authoritarian unschooling household.  His days are endless hours of playing and fun all strung together.  He has two older brothers who don't mind him following them around and acres and acres of land to explore. 

Jasper's never been a "joiner" - eschewing any and all attempts at encouraging him to participate in anything with set rules or expectations, but 2011 saw him taking on his first "Organized Activity" as he calls it.  He asked to try Tae Kwon Do - a request I readily heeded.  He's doing very well and has already earned his gold belt.



He also began some spotty participation in Homeschool Co-op in 2011....tackling Spanish, Sewing, Science, and Ancient History. Here he is in his first attempt at mummifying a chicken. 

2011 also saw the some of my Faves getting All Kinds of Active.  The Red Hot Chili Peppers released a new album, I'm With You.

AND for 2012 we already have tickets for two of the shows on the tour.  For the San Antonio concert??? We have FLOOR SEATS.  Just sayin'.  Also?  I received 3...count 'em...3....new Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirts for Christmas. Although I am thrilled to death with the new album and the upcoming shows and my new t-shirts....2011 was NOT the year I got over this:

Sorry - but they were better with Frusciante.  Plain and Simple. 

Other Faves?  My favorite author I love to love wrote a new novel!



Haruki Murakami's 1Q84 was actually published in 2010 in Japan as a trilogy, but it was published in the US as a single volume in 2011.  I'd pre-ordered it and BOOM! in my Kindle the moment it was released.  It looks like it's IQ - as in "eye" Q - but it isn't.  It has connections to Orwell's 1984.  In Japanese, the letter Q and the number 9 are homophones....and so what is a witty play on words in Japan is merely hard to say in America.  I mean, the title is awkward.  I say it as One Q Eighty-four.  But I can't say it and look at it at the same time or I say Eye-Q Eighty-Four.  Sometimes I say 1984.  Anyway - I LOVE 1Q84 - no matter how you say it.  I understand it was nominated for the Bad Sex Award, but it only makes me love Murakami even more.

Speaking of Bad Sex and Authors and 2011 - The Author I'm Embarrassed to Love to Hate (and read) also had a new novel.  That's right, Laurel K Hamilton (I know - I'm pounding on my chest right now) released Hit List, the ninety-billionth book in the Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series.  I read every page in one sitting. 

And speaking of vampires (how DID we end up speaking of vampires?), 2011 was also the year Jeff and I became COMPLETELY ADDICTED TO "V".  That's right mah friends, we are hooked on True Blood.  I know! We just keep getting classier and classier over here! But how can you not love it?  It's like those guys on the History Channel who wrassle gators only they HAVE FANGS.

Other than that, we haven't expanded our horizons too much.  We pretty much ended the year the same way we started it, which of course, is always the anti-climactic catch to New Year's. 

Nonetheless - the New Year brings a new calendar (albeit with many of the exact same commitments and appointments that dotted 2011's calendar).  It's sure to be challenging - the year I'm not challenged with something or by someone is the year I'm dead - and it's going to be a bit frightening at times - but there are going to be plenty of sweet parts in between.  At least, that's the way it's worked EVERY SINGLE PREVIOUS YEAR.  Call me crazy, but that's what I'm 'specting for 2012. And I'm wishing the same for you!

May You be Merry

Whoa! Longest Time Without Blogging.  I swear. I have Crazy Missed You People.  Mark has promised to leave drunken comments on people's Christmas blog posts in between wrapping gifts and such. This is an enticement I simply can't refuse. So here's my Christmas Post! You can thank Mark for it.

First of all, let me assure you guys that I'm not dead.  I'm not even sick.  And even though I'd like to, I'm not hiding in shame and embarrassment over this:

No, my friends, I've just been busy.  November kicked my arse.  I did hang in there and participate in NaNoWrite.  I did complete my first rough draft of the manuscript.  It is now 21,367 words too long and I have some editing and re-writing to do.  I have more to say about that but maybe that will be the topic of a later post - because obviously - I haven't started up a writer's blog, yet.

Since I didn't do a Thanksgiving post, let me say that we had a lovely day, my big girl had come home from college, and it was a perfectly relaxing holiday.  Her boyfriend was also home from college and probably to his mother's angst, spent the holiday with us. We ended the day as we do every year, by bombing the San Antonio River with pumpkins.

Thanksgiving weekend was also the opening of The Nutcracker.  Camille made her debut in her first professional production as....A Mouse:

And....An Angel:

This was a lot of work, people! And Camille never tired of it.  Jeff and I both volunteered backstage at every performance Camille was in, as well as all rehearsals, including two full dress rehearsals with the symphony.  They divided the children's cast into two groups so she was only required to perform in 5 shows...but combined with all of the rehearsals, it was a hectic and busy schedule for sure. 

Jeff, being a man, was treated with the utmost respect for his volunteer service.  He was appointed bouncer - sat beside a side door to keep the riff raff out and the children, mice, and angels in.  Since riff raff only attempted to come in one time...and I was backstage with the children, mice, and angels - he mostly sat around playing games on his phone and relaxing.  Everyone, however, was thrilled with his volunteerism and women repeatedly brought him coffee and patted him on the back in gratitude.

I moved boxes, tables, chairs, and costumes.  I took gaggles of angels and mice to the bathroom. I helped with the "quick changes" during intermission.  I applied make-up, sprayed massive amounts of hairspray, and pulled up tights on sweaty little bodies.  Also? For the record? It is hard to put eye shadow on a kid who is crying.  Nobody brought me coffee or patted me on the back.  Go figure.  Next year I plan to try to get in the clique of Starbucks Mommies. They volunteered tirelessly by signing in on the volunteer sign-in sheet, heading to Starbucks, and coming back in time to sign out.  I watched them do it every single day and it never ceased to impress me. 

Ellie and her boyfriend were able to see the opening show - they didn't have to head back to school until the following day so that worked out brilliantly.  Of course, they almost missed it. 

"Where are they?" I asked Jeff once or twice...not a hundred times or anywhere close to a hundred times no matter what anybody says. He told me he'd texted them and they were in a restaurant lunching casually with friends and I was like OH MY GOD IT STARTS IN FIFTEEN MINUTES and he assured me that he had strongly suggested, via text, that they leave the restaurant and head for the theater.  I'm pretty sure that what he actually texted was OMG - Your mom is FREAKING OUT get your asses here NOW.

As the lights flickered and the bell dingled to let the audience know it was time to get seated, they still weren't there.  "They're not coming," I said.  "I wish we hadn't wasted money on tickets. They're simply not going to make it!"  

"Oh, they'll make it," Jeff assured me.  "Ellie will slide into her seat just as the curtain goes up and act like it's no big deal."  The curtain started to go up and I was just about to tell him he was wrong when I heard a small, "Ahem, excuse me." Then Ellie scooted past me and slid into her seat, cool as a cucumber. She glanced at me briefly with a What? expression. Then, for a special effect, she yawned and stretched leisurely.

Of course, I know for a fact that  ten minutes before, after vacating her car as if it were on fire, she'd been sweating bullets, running through downtown knocking aside old people and tripping up winos while yelling at her boyfriend, "Keep up! Oh my God if I miss this she'll never let me hear the end of it! She'll be talking about it on her deathbed! I will NEVER EVER LIVE THIS DOWN!  It will go down in Nutcracker History that I missed my sister's opening night!  RUN! For the love of all things holy, RUN!" 

God, I've missed that kid. 

The tree went up, its lights went out string by string, until it only had one little strand across the middle.  Eventually, we had to un-decorate the tree, put up new LED lights that are too bright if you ask me, and re-decorate.  The lights likewise went up on the house.  We live on a ranch, and so we only put the lights up for ourselves. We don't get folks out here looking at Christmas lights.  If we get a particularly cold night, we bundle up and walk down the lane for our Cold Walk so we can look back and see our house - a bright row of lights shining brightly in a dark pasture. 

Many years ago, when I was a Young Mom of Three, I wrote a story about this ritual and it was published in a Christmas anthology.  I was very excited about it at the time, so excited that I agreed to sell my rights to it, and so it has just be re-released as part of a new anthology for which I WILL NOT BE PAID. Bah humbug.

Anyway, so Jeff got out the ladder and it is always so exciting because it could go really, really well - and we end up with a decorated casa, OR it could end up being the incident that finally familiarzes us with our disability insurance policy.

What I didn't know was that Jeff had upped the excitement level by allowing Jasper up on the roof.  He perched him up on the highest peak, telling him not to move, to just sit there and watch.  Jasper did just that.  He was wearing a little brown jacket and had the hood pulled up, his hands in his pockets, sitting like a statue.  Or maybe a gargoyle.  Anyway, Jeff was hanging up the lights and he casually glanced up at Jasper and his blood ran cold at what he saw.  Jasper still sat, quite still and calm, but coming up on his left...out of his field of vision, thanks to his hood...was his arch nemesis, Stevie Ray.

It was getting on into late afternoon, and this guy was fixing to roost up high for the night. Jeff was in a panic.  If Jasper did what he usually did when approached by Stevie Ray, he was going to stand up on the very top of the roof, scream like a girl, and take off running for his life with Stevie Ray hot on his heels.  And then?  Jeff, himself, was going to be in ALL KINDS OF TROUBLE WITH THE MAMA.

But turkeys are not too smart.  And this particular turkey looked at Jasper sitting there in his brown hoodie, all still and quiet and perched up high, and came to the logical turkey conclusion that Jasper was also a turkey.  He then settled in quite companionably next to Jasper and began to drift off to sleep.  Jeff was able to get to Jasper before Anything Bad Happened. 

Tonight is Christmas Eve. It feels so great to have all my babies home. It's different though.  We're on the cusp of change.  One child has already left the nest, the others are growing up.  Santa still comes, but he is way more exhausted than he used to be. Instead of wishing for time to stand still so he can live forever, he finds himself occasionally wishing it would all hurry up so he could retire.  He is caught between the beautiful nostalgia of the Past and the promise of the Future. He's just enough of a human to prevent his fully being able to ever embrace the Present.

A Very Merry Christmas to You!

From the Sardine Mama of Christmases Past, Present, and Future. 

Dramatically Heartwarming Story

I hinted about a possible heart problem in the last entry, didn't I?  That's because I'm dramatic.  I don't like being dramatic - but apparently I am. Dramatic. Let's just build on that, shall we?

Let's say a dramatic-type of a person was driving in her gigantic and enormously conspicuous van with a little ballerina in it, and let's just say that person felt a big old flub flub flub TOTAL FLATLINE flub flub flub flutter in her heart.  She might have gone..."Hmmm...that was interesting....hope that doesn't happen again..." or she might have gone..."Oh Effing GREAT.  Like my life isn't flipping busy enough at the moment what with the ballet rehearsals and the homeschool co-op and the thinking it would be a good idea to have five kids and All That Goes With Them and the tae kwon do classes and the cooking and the cleaning and the shopping and the pets and the lifestock....now I'm having an Honest To God Heart Attack, which on top of being really inconvenient, is also - for some bizarre reason - a tad bit embarassing!!" 

Let's say she decided to act like her heart hadn't stopped and then restarted with a ribcage rattling THA-WHOMP while she was careening down the highway at somewhere between 75 and 80 miles an hour.  Let's say she just headed to a Starbucks to write for 3 hours and suck down lots and lots of coffee.  Let's say the heart stopping and starting became significantly worse, and by the time she got home, her heart was going stark-raving insane.

Let's say she went to bed that night afraid to drift off because it was obvious that if she did she would DIE IN HER SLEEP, thereby possibly traumatizing her husband if he happened to look over at her when he got out of bed in the morning - 50/50 chance of that - otherwise she would traumatize a child or two who found her later, stiff and dark purple with an unattractive line of drool descending her chin, and who would then sit around her corpse begging for oatmeal even though it was apparently AGAINST ALL REASON that she would get up and fix oatmeal in her current condition. 

Let's say she stayed up most of the night because the above-mentioned scenarios were unacceptable.  Let's also say she stayed up most of the night because she'd had too much coffee.  Let's say she also might have stayed up most of the night because of a stuffy nose due to seasonal allergies.  Let's say she might have tried to deal with the stuffy nose with a snort (or two) of Afrin, even though she is deathly afraid of becoming addicted to it.  Because a girl has to breathe, that's why.

Let's say that in the morning - the heart bippity boppity boo business was Much Much Worse.  Let's say she began being Dramatic and telling anyone who'd listen those closest to her that she might be having a heart attack or maybe had already had a heart attack during which her heart has suffered irrepairable damage.  Let's say People began telling her to go to the Emergency Room but let's say she decided she would really rather die at home where at least she could get a load or two going in the wash first, as opposed to dying all useless after doing nothing but filling out form after form with information off of the health insurance card that the receptionist made copies of but apparently the information is only valid if it has also been rewritten illegibly 90 bazillion times by someone dying of a heart attack.  Let's just say she didn't want to do that - so she stayed at home being all dramatic stoic and brave as if she were on a made-for-TV movie. 

Let's say that after four days of this her husband threatened her with divorce, sick with concern, strongly suggested she call a cardiologist.  She didn't want to call a cardiologist because that could only lead to one of two things: 1) she would be deemed crazy because she wasn't dying of a heart attack or 2) she would be told she was dying of a heart attack.  Even though she didn't want to, let's just say she called the cardiologist and downplayed the entire thing  told them about the palpitations and let's just say they strongly suggested she go to the ER but she promised to cling to life until Friday when they could see her in the office. 

Let's say that on Thursday night she shaved her legs and her husband heard the commotion because she doesn't really shave she rips the hair out by its roots with an epilator and he said, "What? You think he's going to put you in the hospital?"  Let's just say that she might not rip her leg hair out by its roots all that often, but she didn't want to compound the ugly hospital gown problem with hairy calves. 

Let's just say that on Friday morning, she ran around the house cleaning it up because the homeschool co-op was still coming over because the show must go on, after all, and let's just say that she noticed she felt a little better when she was up and moving and screaming hysterically at the children trying to wake up the kids to enlist their help with the house, which had become somewhat chaotic during the time that she had taken to her bed with what was surely congestive heart failure or something worse that would require a heart/lung transplant.

Let's just say that when the homeschool co-op arrived, she was hysterically straightening her hair, an act that perplexed her friends since things were in such an obvious state of disarray and she had Virtually No Pulse - but her husband understood that she needed to be pretty for the cardiologist and he just shook his head.  Let's just say she wanted to be taken seriously by the cardiologist and felt like she had a better chance of that with straight hair.  Let's just say that when she doesn't straighten her hair, her seventeen year old son likes to pass through the kitchen and say, "Mornin' Hagrid."

Let's just say that there were several things she was hoping to avoid in the cardiologist's office and the Number One Thing was a freaking stress test.  She didn't want that.  She also didn't want anyone suggesting she might need a heart cath - as she really didn't want anybody inserting a thingy into a leg artery and then FEEDING IT UP THROUGH THE LEG INTO HER F*CKING HEART even if she had hairless legs.  Those two things?  She wished to avoid.  An overnight hospital stay for some pleasant observation, however, didn't sound half bad.  Let's just say that she has never been admitted to a hospital for observation or anything mild that might be possibly moderately relaxing.  She has heard of this happening to Other People but she knows that if she needed brain surgery it would probably be performed as an Outpatient Procedure because some considerate doctor would assume she'd like to be home in time to fix dinner.  Let's just say she's gotten off-track, here.

Let's just say that her husband accompanied her to the doctor's office because she had practically packed an overnight bag in the hopes of in the case of an unfortuante admittance into the hospital for not really very serious observation over the weekend.  Let's just say that when she arrived at the doctor's office - she was forced to fill out lots and lots of forms and write down all the information on the insurance card the receptionist had already made the obligatory copy of.  Then let's say she was forced to listen to Dr. Oz on the wall-mounted television, and let's just say it seriously interfered with her ability to focus on her new Haruki Murakami novel which isn't easy to focus on under the best of circumstances, much less when her heart was stopping and starting and Dr. Oz was talking about heart health, which she obviously DIDN'T HAVE BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T EXERCISE ENOUGH SO THERE.

Let's say she was called in and weighed and let's just say she Really Hates That Part of Going to the Doctor. Then?  An EKG.  It all felt very serious and let's just say she was glad she'd packed a bag and shaved her legs.  Things were so serious she only remotely wondered what brand of electrodes were being stuck on her body - seeing as how she used to actually sell electrodes in a former life when she was much much younger and had no kids and a healthy heart.  Let's say the EKG picked up TWO (aha!!!  i told you!!!) "episodes of palpitation" and she felt the same relief she felt every time she went to the hospital and heard them say she was really pregnant and in labor and not just overweight with gas.  Word: Not Crazy Y'all.  Serious Heart Problems.

Let's just say that the cardiologist came in and he was of Indian ethnicity and therefore soft-spoken and somewhat under-animated.  Let's say he looked at the EKG and then drew a bunch of heart pictures and began talking in the exact same tone that people use with her when they're trying to explain how the DVD player works and let's just say she quit listening after awhile because even with straight hair, a girl can only take so much. Let's just say the cardiologist diagnosed her as having PVC's...premature ventricular contractions...which are not the result of Actual Heart Disease or Anything Serious or even Mildy Serious And Requiring Observation.  Let's just say he wondered if she'd been under any stress and she said she had not and her husband starting choking and pounding himself on the chest as if his freaking heart had stopped (and they say SHE'S dramatic??).  Then he wondered if she had maybe had any stimulants in the way of caffeine or decongestants and she admitted that maybe she had had a little bit of both.  Then he wondered if maybe, when she had the PVC's that rattled her chest and made her head go light and caused her to seriously consider updating her funeral playlist, if MAYBE she had suffered Anxiety about the PVC's and maybe the Anxiety had caused some adrenaline rushes because guess what adrenaline does?  It gives you PVC's. 

Let's say the cardiologist suggested she come back in a month but she said, "Are you kidding me?  I'M STILL DYING OVER HERE RIGHT NOW AT THIS VERY MOMENT MY HEART IS STOPPING AND RE-STARTING ITSELF BY PURE LUCK BUDDY..." and so let's say he agreed to see her in two weeks but let's say he Actually Smirked.

Let's say that she went out for Thai food after leaving the cardiologist's office and only felt mildly guilty about it, knowing that the homeschool co-op mamas were, at that very moment, trying to help Jasper sew a pillowcase.  And let's just say that the PVC's quite suddenly, and quite DRAMATICALLY, completely stopped.  And let's just say that since she's quit sucking down coffee while snorting Afrin and freaking out over PVC's....they haven't come back. 

Wouldn't that make a heartwarming story?

Nano Nano and I'm Not Really Breaking Up With You

I've been neglecting the blog for NaNoWriMo (national novel writing month).  I don't usually do NaNoWriMo because it intimidates me.  But a very non-intimidating friend is doing it, so I figured I'd go for it, too.  My goal is 2,000 words per day.  I know what you're thinking: I've written sentences on this blog that were more than 2,000 words.  It's a problem - both when I'm speaking and when I'm writing.  But that's another issue for another day.

My ongoing novel-writing saga is getting tiresome.  My routine as an unpublished fiction writer goes something like this:

*Obsessively think about novel for an entire day
*Start a round of negative self-talk that will last for approximately one week
*Sit down to write
*Read over what was written a month ago
*Start second round of negative self-talk while re-writing everything
*Stew
*Over
*Failure
*Sit down to write
*Get on facebook, instead
*Wallow in guilt and self-pity
*Write anywhere from 1,000 - 13,000 words in one sitting
*Repeat

It hasn't really been working for me. 

Oh! I left out another important part of my routine: Reading endless books and blogs about writing.  Most of these books and blogs offer similar advice (Excuses are in Italics):

*Write a little each day. Too busy having angst to fit in writing everyday. Obsessive worrying, when done properly, takes up a lot of time.
*Don't obsess with editing and re-writing, just keep chugging. Ha ha! Don't obsess - hilarious.  Also, I like to read over what I've written thousands and thousands of times - changing it each time - often making it much worse in the process - kind of like a bad make-up day when you just keep piling it on and end up looking like Hooker Barbie After Botched Plastic Surgery.
*Set up a time to write and stick to it. Have you seen my schedule? It's really full what with all the obsessing and the five kids and the obsessing!  Getting up early to do it is really hard - although I must admit morning is my most creative time of the day.
*Treat it like a job. Panic!
*Never give up. I can't wait for the day when I finally Give. This. Shit. Up.
*Don't despair - writing is a lonely and often depressing state that never gets better, and in fact, gets worse after you publish. Proof that writing is perfect for me and by the way, way to go with the pep talk!

NaNoWriMo is always in November, which is just plain stupid.  NOVEMBER.  The month of Thanksgiving and shopping and getting ready for the holidays and now, thanks to Camille, the month of Nutcracker Rehearsals.  They're killing me. Also?  I have a problem with the whole quantity versus quality aspect of NaNoWriMo.  2,000 words of crap?  No problem - and this blog proves it.  But what's the point of spewing scenes in a novel that you know will be cut just to meet the 2,000 mark?  I could never buy into it.  But for some reason - this year - I committed. Kind of.

Okay, I didn't officially commit.  There is a website where you're supposed to register.  I went there.  I had to create an account.  Part of that process was choosing a username.  I hate choosing a username.  Too much pressure. Your username will be visible to other participants and can be publicly searched so choose carefully!  Ugh.  I agonized.  Should I use something cutesy?  No - and besides,  Ms. Write and all other possible usernames where I could be all kinds of not really very witty incorporating the word write were already taken. I wasted a good 30 minutes on that.  Then I tried Red Hot Writer since I'm the world's biggest Red Hot Chili Peppers fan - but I worried it might be misconstrued as some sort of I'm So Red Hot Sexy thing, which couldn't be further from the truth.  I thought and I thought and I thought in an obsessive writer type of a way - and I wondered if any of the other wanna-be NaNoWriMo participants were sweating over their usernames, and eventually, I gave up.  It isn't like I needed to be a part of The Community, as they say.  I know enough depressed obsessive people already.

So. 2,000 words a day. 

I managed it the first week - and I'm feeling pretty good about the second - which is uncharacteristically cheerful of me.  I still edit and obsess a little...but only for a few hours and then I'm So On It.

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I think I might actually have a manuscript at the end - one that needs to be cut by 30% and reduced to shreds by an editor - but the dots will be connected, at least.  That's HUGE for me.  My dots are generally everywhere.  I'm not so much of a plot-pointer so connecting the dots sometimes results in a duck-billed platypus with 3 breasts and a nasty overbite.  Not really what anybody's looking for in the publishing industry - WHICH -  is a mess and a half at the moment, thereby becoming even more attractive to me what with my fear of success and all.

You know what blows, by the way?  Last January (almost a YEAR ago), I went on our anniversary weekend with every intention of finishing this dreadful thing.  And I didn't do it! (Not entirely my fault because All Of This Happened.) And now January is coming up again - taunting and belittling me - but I think I might surprise it by being Almost Kinda Somewhat F*cking Finished!

Also?  According to Everybody? I'm supposed to be setting up a writer's website or blog.  Agents and editors want to know you have a website or blog.  But you have a blog, Sardine Mama! Yes, I know! But they want to see a PROFESSIONAL blog where I don't post pics of my kids and dogs and where I don't poke fun of Rick Perry and Sarah Palin and use the F-word (even with an asterisk) while whining with poor grammar and too many adverbs about why writing sucks so bad(ly).  In short, I need a place to talk about writing like a civilized person.  And this clearly is not the place for that.

I am hoping I can maintain a writer's blog. (I don't want a website - what would I say? Welcome to my webiste! I haven't actually finished a book yet - and I'm not allowed to post pics of my dogs - but check out what I've been reading! I'm forced to say really nice things about it so I don't sound bitter!)  It's all so nonsensical to me.

So what this is all leading up to - is that I think we need to see other people.  I'm not breaking up with you - I'd still like to hang out with you and you know, be friends, but not EXCLUSIVELY, if you catch my drift.  I'll be sure and clue you in when the new blog is up and running - You can "follow me" as long as you agree to pretend that I'm a mature and responsible writer whilst visiting.

In the meantime, you can still find me here, just not as often.  To make sure you come back, I'm promising this in the next post:  Halloween Pictures (ha! pictures of the kids!) and a synopsis of my Visit With The Cardiologist.  For a preview, watch this (*spoiler alert - I DID NOT HAVE A HEART ATTACK, but it was exciting, nonetheless.) :