Um, Thank You?

Reminders are good.

While I was out at the writer's conference in Ohio, I received a response from the managing editor of The Missouri Review, regarding a submission I had made. It was a nice note, letting me know that the readers had given me favorable reviews but that it was ultimately not selected, please do submit again.

Ok.

Got a nearly identical message this morning, from the same managing editor, for the same story.

Just in case I didn't remember that he'd rejected my story two months ago?

Hmmmm

Considering the insane prices of gas and everything else at this moment, it looks like I'm going to need to figure out a way to become more of a provider for my family. I'd hoped to avoid going back to work full time in an office at least until my kids were school-age.

Unfortunately, I just don't see how we're going to be able to heat the house this winter without me out there, spending 40 hours a week working for "the man"

*sigh*

I have some more blog posts in me, just haven't allowed myself to do much blogging as of late. I've actually been - gasp - writing. Who'd have thought.

Will be back soon with something more eloquent and less depressing than visions of florescent lights and wearing office appropriate fashion.

Thumbs

There is a section in our weekly community newspaper called Thumbs Up/Thumbs Down. It is two pages of townspeople ranting or raving, saying things with anonymity that they probably would not say if their names were going to be associated with their comments.

They range from the light hearted: "Thumbs up to Kevin for graduating eighth grade! We love you, Mom and Dad!" to the mean spirited "Thumbs down to the neighbor who leaves their cat outside all the time. Next time he's in my way, I might not swerve."

And aside from the four months worth of comments bickering over whether the town should have white or colored Christmas lights - there are the occasional gems.

From last week's Thumbs Pages:

"Thumbs down to the 'man bear pig' always dancing in my backyard! Stop stealing my snickerdoodles and leave me alone. Boooo 'man bear pig'"

What a bizarre little place I live in.

More Summer Scenes

My husband's interview today was an hour or so north of our house, in the midst of the lakes region, where I spent my summer vacations growing up.

We made a family day of it. It was nostalgic and amazing to be there now with little ones of my own...






And then we came home.

Though the interview went beyond well, they can't afford to pay my husband what he needs to be making, so we're going to be moving north just yet. And I'm left with this sinking pit in my stomach that tells me change is coming very soon...and I'm anxious to know what it is.

I'm seeking upheaval, perhaps in the same way a child might sneak for peeks of his or her Christmas presents before Christmas morning - I'm job and house hunting in random cities and places, far, far away. I'm day dreaming about packing and moving, or about accomplishing anything, or getting notice (finally) from any of the number of places holding my work at the moment.

Lately, it seems I'm uneasy and fraying at the edges. But, today I was whole and focused on only the present and it felt, well, good.

Distraction

Things I know about the novel I'm working on (and I use the term 'working' very loosely, as I am currently battling with a thousand distractions, not the least of which is self-doubt.):

It will involve Food and television.
It will be in the first person
There will be no mention of space aliens or science fiction
It will not involve the paranormal
There will be quirky romance
The main character will not be a young mother of two
She will not be a super heroine,
But she will be quite diggable.

Things that are currently distracting me from utilizing my nap-time wisely:

Scramble (darn you Facebook and your applications and Scramble with your neat little 3 minute games that make you feel like you are only clicking for just a few moments...and then the next thing you know an hour - or two- has passed and you can't see straight anymore and you've wasted what precious brain power you had left on finding the word "fingered" on a virtual boggle board...)

Thoughts of relocation. My husband is going for an interview on Friday at a resort sixty miles north...which, with gas prices as they are, would most certainly require moving.

Worry - which is a complete waste of mental energy and I will stop this. I will.

Exercise - thinking of getting back on the treadmill, deciding instead to sit, then feeling antsy and thinking I should just do another mile or two first...then don't. But still think about it.

The chili I had on my egg white omelet for breakfast. So yummy, but now tearing through my digestive track like a...well. It's bad.

Summer Scenes

We have had a rainy summer. Hot, humid days, followed by showers that cool off the evenings. This has been particularly wonderful for our little tomato garden. We attempted to grow tomatoes last summer, with no success. And I had little hope for this year - until the downpours came and surprised us with tall, flourishing plants.

Our garden is also, as The Boss is pointing out here to Lila, worms.

Speaking of things growing, Lila's hair has been slowly shedding its mullet-like qualities and she finally looks like a girl, even when wearing blue or neutral colors.
But it was just today while visiting friends that I realized (or, it was pointed out to me by my friend) that she has enough hair to pull of pigtails. How could I have been missing something so obvious all summer?

The only way I could get her to sit still long enough to take a picture of her new hair-do was to feed her a cookie...

She is also a brazen dare devil. If there is something that looks dangerous, she sees it as an invitation to give me a heart attack. Today, she insisted on lowering herself into the swimming pool - not by way of the safe stairs, mind you (which is where my wiser, more cautious son remained for most of his time in the pool.)
No, my daughter insisted on lowering herself one leg after the other over the concrete side of the pool, without her daddy's help.

At least, as this picture proves, she's not entirely immune to fear.

Two seconds later she was gleefully squealing at her success. God bless her. I'd be with my son on the steps.