February 2012 Recap

Miss Peregrine's Home
for Peculiar Children

Books I Read
I don't know what I've been doing this month, but apparently reading hasn't been it!
The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak
Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, by Ransom Riggs

Both of these were pretty good.  The Book Thief was a beautiful and very-interestingly-told novel and I'd definitely recommend it.  I also liked Miss Peregrine's, which I finished last night.  It ended a little abruptly, in preparation for the sequel, I'm assuming.  But I liked it.  It was a fascinating idea, and I LOVED the old photography added to the pages.  Part of me thinks this was a little bit lazy way to escape the need to adequately describe the characters, but it was still cool.

Celtic Thunder Voyage

Movies and TV I Watched

One for the Money  (eh)
Once Upon a Time (LOVE!)
New Girl  (Also LOVE!)
The Middle (Cracks me UP!)
Celtic Thunder's Voyage (PBS broadcast) -- (LOVE and a half... more on that later)

Lee Brice

Music I Added
The Band Perry
Scotty McCreery
Lee Brice
Thompson Square
Chris Young

Things That Happened
Made some smart decisions regarding an old friendship
Saw Brad Paisley/Scotty McCreery/The Band Perry in concert
Started a new work-in-progress, just for fun-- novella coming soon! (Ish)
Daytrip to the beach with my best friend, in lieu of the Superbowl
Oy, too much dental drama.  Lost filling, root canal, TMJ, crown.
Decided to finally take this blog outside of my small circle of friends
Made some changes on Twitter
Spent a week at my mom's

Roll on, March!!

Be You

You want to know something?

The world can suck.  It can be filled with people who are nasty and jealous and mean-spirited and cruel. In general, I don't really think that most people are evil.  We're all just built a little selfish, and when we walk out that selfishness, it manifests itself in all of those things. They don't MEAN to be nasty, they just don't think about how what they're doing might affect others, or they justify it with other reasons.  But, when it's directed at you, it's hard to keep your head and tell yourself that it's just because of their hurts and their insecurities.  It's hard to not feel hurt.  It's hard to keep yourself from pulling the blanket over your head and hiding away from it.  It's hard, too, to not fight back with barbs grown out of your own hurts and selfishness.

But do you want to know something else?

It's not them you're fighting.  It's you.

Who cares if they think you're hard-hearted or too flighty?  Are you?  Answer the question honestly...  under it all, are you who they think you are?

What would happen if you threw off the cloak that you use to protect yourself and you made a decision to be fully and wonderfully you?  I'm not talking all sunshine and rainbows here, but what would happen if you chose to be you, unapologetically?  What would happen if you embraced every delightful quality that lies inside of you (and believe me, my friend, there are LEGIONS of them) and chose to live out each of those qualities without worrying about what "they" would say?

They can't stop you from being you. Only YOU can stop you from being you, and don't you dare let "them" be the reason that you hold back anymore.  You are wonderful, every last bit of you.  You have so much to offer. So much kindness and generosity, so much friendship and good humor, so much wisdom and love.

Be you and be you with great pride.  I would like to know you.

Will I Follow You? - Six Tips for Making Your Blog Reader Friendly

As I've mentioned before, I'm participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge in April.  Part of the challenge is just doing the blogging itself, but the other part is reading the blogs of all the other participants.  It's about building community within the blogosphere and developing a deeper follower base (both for yourself and to become a part of others' follower bases).  To that end, I started visiting some of the blogs tonight, adding new blogs I liked to my own follow list.  75 of them, to be... more or less... exact.

When you read that many at once, you start to pick up pretty quickly what it is about blogs that draw you in, and what about them completely turns you off.  And as I look at them, I realize that most of them can be boiled down to two points:

• Ease of Use
• Personal Connection

So, without further ado, these are my six very honest criteria:

1. You have exactly one page to catch me. It doesn't matter if you have one post on that page, or ten.  But, if you haven't captured my attention by the end of that first page, I'm unlikely to click the "Older Posts" button to find out what your previous posts say.  So, however many posts you have your blog set to display on each page?  That's how many posts you have to say something interesting.

2. Easy to read font. Don't make reading what you have to say difficult.  Maybe I'm lazy.  Maybe I'm just getting old and don't want to admit that my eyesight isn't as great as it was when I was 24.  But if I have to squint to figure out what you've written, I'm probably not going to go to the trouble.  The thing is, you could be a GREAT writer.  You could have fantastic wonderful things to say, and there is the very real possibility that I could fall in love with you and your blog.  But if I can't read it, I'm not going to hang around long enough to find out.  I know the scripty font is pretty, but it's also not readable if you're blogging more than half a paragraph.  Ditch it and stop making me work so hard.  :) 

3. Please limit your memes.  Whether that's blog hops, tagging games, whatever...  I want to know about you.  I want to know what your normal blogging style is. I want to know if reading you over the longterm is something that is going to keep me interested.  Once I've gone to the trouble of following you, I want to do it over the longhaul.  So I want to know, BEFORE I hit the follow button, if your style is one that I'm going to like for the longterm.  Show me what that is.

4. Don't make me click through. Hey, remember the part that said you had one page to catch me and that I wasn't going to click to your "Older Posts" page?  This also applies to those posts that have the first four lines of text and then a link that says "Click here to read rest of the post."  You want to make this easy for your readers.  Don't make us work to enjoy what you have to say.  Just put it on the page and stop making us jump through hoops.  One page.  That's all you get.

5. No music players that play automatically. Oh, you sneaky little things with your music players hidden at the bottom/side/I DON'T KNOW WHERE of your page.  I already have music I like, and chances are that is playing on my own music player WHILE I am reading through blogs.  When your mystery music starts playing at the same time as MY music, it's annoying.  The beats don't match up.  I think there is something seriously wrong with my music player.  And, most importantly to you, I can't click off your page fast enough because I want it to stop.  If you MUST have music, make it optional and make it something that I have to click ON to make play... not something that I have to click OFF.

6. Finally, you need to have at least one post on that front page that I get a sense of who you are. I blog because I love to write.  But I read other people's blogs because I want to get to know them.  I want to know what makes people tick. I want to know what music you like, what movies you love, your books. I want to know about the things you are passionate about, your family, your friends.  I want to know about your hopes and your dreams and your fears.  I want to know YOU.  You have one page to show me that you are someone I'd like to know.

Now I need to go read my own blog and see if I can meet my own criteria!  I think those daisies may be a problem.

Life's Chaos

Not Our House

I've just returned home from a week-long vacation at my mom's house.  My husband has been "home alone,"  and when I walked in the door last night, it's possible that my first thought was "Oh dear God."  The chaos just seemed a bit overpowering.  This is not, however, intended to be a husband-slam.  In his defense, I had left him with our rather-rambunctious young beagle who is NOT used to being home alone all day, and I imagine she was somewhat of a pill.  I am not complaining about the fact that my house looked like a hurricane blew through it; I'm just stating that's what it looked like.

But, after spending seven hours in the car with three pre-teen girls at varying levels of bicker-i-ness and health, tackling the mess was the last thing I wanted to do.  "I'll deal with it tomorrow."  There were some things done, of course.  A couple floors swept, the trash from the kitchen counter thrown out, the dog's toys put away, the youngest child's blankie washed from getting pop spilled on it in the car.  But, otherwise, I just decided to ignore it all.  I read my email, I caught up on blogs and Twitter and Facebook. I chatted a little with my friends whom I'd hardly "seen" in a week.  The house could wait.

This morning, though I'm not quite ready to tackle the day yet, I spent a few minutes going from room to room, mentally listing all the things that I need to get done today.  It's really not that bad.  Will it take me most of the day to get it done?  Probably.  But is it the mountainous mess of chaos that I saw in my mind's eye when I walked in the door last night?  No.  It's not.

Life's chaos is like that too, sometimes.  When it first crosses our path, it's our instinct to think "BUT IT'S SO MUCH, I can't possibly do it all!"  But, when we let our panic subside and step back for just a moment to really survey the impact the chaos might have and what steps we need to take to combat it, it's often a far smaller hurdle than we thought it was when we first encountered it.

So, it makes sense to wait at least a moment.  Before we allow ourselves to panic over the size of the problem, it makes sense to take a single step back to take honest stock of it, to make an honest assessment of what needs to be done, and to tackle it one little step at a time.

When we do, I think we find that "it's really not that bad."

Approaching Lent, 2012

I don't think I do Lent the way you're supposed to do Lent.

The line of Christianity that I've always been a believer in has never really made a big deal over Lent, so it's really never been something I've done.  My sense is that you're supposed to give up something you like, something it would be, at minimum, an inconvenience to give up, something you have to fight your inner self a little bit to be successful in fasting from.  And that you're supposed to find a way to translate that self-denial into Godly devotion and sunshine and rainbows.  Those who've historically done it, is that about right, more or less?  Maybe minus the sunshine and rainbows part.

Last year, I decided to participate, though less out of a godly intent than a personal one, if I'm being totally honest.  In this case, I gave up a person who wasn't very good for me.  Does that count?  Can you give up something that is totally healthy to give up?  Like... cigarettes or alcohol or waiting in line at the DMV?  See, this is the part where I think I start to deviate off of traditional Lenten intent and just start using it for my own purposes.

In retrospect, it was a fantastic decision, though I'm not sure that it fulfilled the Godly devotion part of the equation.. though maybe in the longrun, it did, just not in the prescribed 40 days.  The healing and growth that followed in its wake were needed. I reawakened my love for writing in this format, and I do love it so very much. I began to read more and listen to more varied music, discovering new things and rediscovering old loves. My friendships were strengthened and fed, my faith crushed and rebuilt.

Looking back, I realize that who I am today is vastly different from the person I was a year ago, or two or three.  And I am glad.  So much feels like it rests on that decision, like it all started with the day I decided.  That may be simplistic. In fact, I'm sure it is.  There was much that led up to the day that I decided what to give up.  And yet, the decision was a catalyst that helped to determine everything that came after it.

So today, even though I know Lent started yesterday (right?), I'm thinking about if there is anything in my life that needs giving up.  Not just for 40 days.  But for good.  Regrets? Grudges? Petty dislikes?

Maybe all of the above.

Smartest Woman Alive

My mom is, quite simply, the smartest woman alive.

"Oh! What happened to your smoke alarm?" I asked my mom the other day.  It was gone.

She has a living room with very high vaulted ceilings, and for some reason, there is a smoke alarm WAAAAAAY up at the top.  This seems like a great place to detect smoke, I admit. But, for heavens sake, how is anyone supposed to change the battery?

Actually, this smoke alarm gave me great fits several years ago.  I was home visiting with my then-very-young children.  It was evening and they were asleep in the guest bedroom.  This part is important.  THEY WERE ASLEEP.  And when you have three small children, you very much appreciate this time of the day.  After they were sleeping, I was cooking some steak for our adult-dinner.  I don't really remember what happened.  Did I forget I was cooking?  I don't know.  But, for some reason, there were significant quantities of smoke coming from the oven, which caused the smoke alarm to go off.  Apparently, the smoke alarms in my mom's house are all linked together, so EVERY smoke alarm in the house started going off, including the one in my children's room.  Screaming.  Screaming. Screaming.  (Not from me.)  And I can't get the darned things to go off because I can't wave the smoke away from that one in the living room.  It was terrible.  And my kids were afraid of the bedroom for three YEARS.

In any case, the smoke alarm was now gone, which was curious.  My mom has some significant mobility and balance issues, so if SHE was the one responsible for it not being attached to the wall anymore, then we were going to have some serious talking to do.  But no...  She's far smarter than that.

"Well... it was beeping because it needed its batteries changed, but I couldn't do it.  So I called the fire department to see if they knew someone I could call, because surely they would know.  And they said to me, 'Are you unable to do it?' And I told them yes, that if I got on a ladder, I would fall OFF of a ladder and kill myself. And 10 minutes later, a FIRE TRUCK pulled up in front of the house and three of them came in with their ladder."

"Wait, wait, wait," I interrupted.  "You had three firemen in your house?"

"Yes."

"Were they good-looking?"

She looked at me as if I was an idiot.  Which, granted, it was probably a stupid question.  "They were FIREMEN.  Of course they were good-looking."

"And they just came over, like that?"

"Yes."

"Ok, go on."

"So they came in and climbed on their ladders and went about fixing all the smoke alarms in the house and gave me stern looks when I told them that ALL of the smoke alarms were out of batteries.  And the one up there," she gestured to the ceiling, "is apparently broken, so I have to go buy a new one and call them and then they'll come back and fix it."

"Alright, let me get this straight.  You just called the fire department and they sent you three good looking young men in UNIFORM.  And all you needed was broken smoke alarms?"

"Yes."

I'm taking a sledge hammer to ours when I get home.

Indulgences

Some people are smart and space their children out in nice, even intervals.

I wasn't smart.

For some reason, I decided it would work better to have them all at once.  Actually, I didn't DECIDE that, but that's the way it worked.  Twins, and then 15 months later, Baby #3.  Be forewarned, Newly Marrieds.  I don't technically recommend this method.  To be honest, it didn't go very well, and when they were all around 2 and 3 years old, I crashed into depression, and I crashed hard.  One of the things I did to crawl on top of the depression was to seek counselling.

One of the most important things I took from that time in my life was learning to take care of myself.  I had allowed myself to take on this belief that I had to take care of everyone else first.  The children, my husband, my parents, my sisters, my friends, my church.  I believed that I didn't do all those things first, then I wasn't a good wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend, etc.  And it was only after all of those things were taken care of that I allowed myself to take care of me.  Let me tell you something.  If you believe that you have to take care of your kids, husband, parents, siblings, friends, and other responsibilities before you are ever allowed to take care of yourself, then you will never ever have the time to take care of yourself.  There are only so many hours in the day.

It took me a long time, but I eventually came to understand that taking care of myself didn't mean NOT taking care of everyone else in my life.  The less you take care of yourself, the less of yourself there IS.  And the less of you there IS, the less of you there is to take care of everyone you think you're responsible for.  If you follow this line of reasoning long enough, you come to understand and believe that taking care of yourself is, not only healthy, but is also a form of taking care of all the people you think you have to take care of.

So, in that vein, I've learned to find small ways to indulge myself.  Sometimes, they're big ways.  But, mostly, they're small things that I can do to make myself feel taken care of.  This gives me the strength to make it through the daily grind.

A few of them:

• Manicures
• Coffee
• Building myself a roaring fire to keep me warm
• Music, Music, Music
• Time to read
• An hour every morning after the kids go to school that is blocked out for writing
• Daytrips with my kids...
• Events with my friends
• Weekly Date with Myself
• Good make-up
• Real hair appointments

Do you have ways that you indulge yourself?  Big or small?

Car Repair and Male Chivalry

The last time my headlight went out, I was determined to "do it myself."  Joel was going to be so proud of me!  I went to the auto parts store and bought the headlight.  I came home and searched up the directions.  I went into the garage and found all the tools I needed and I set to work. 

But there was this one part where you're supposed to stick a screwdriver in this little hole and PRY the entire headlight section away from the car.  I'm sure this works.  I'm sure this works and that it goes back together the way it's supposed to.  But, I got to this part and thought, "I don't know what I'm doing.  I am going to break my car and then Joel is going to be really mad at me!"

So I chickened out.  I put the bolts back on, and I drove to Les Schwab (where they are always super nice to me even when my descriptions of what is wrong with my car make me sound like a crackpot).  I took the headlight in with me and in my best "I am so helpless" demeanor, I proceeded to tell the whole story to the nice man ending with "And if I break my car, my husband is going to be NOT HAPPY."

This worked.  He installed my headlight.  He didn't even charge me.  Everyone's happy.

So, my other headlight needed to be replaced.  I was leaving to go out of town that evening, before Joel was going to get home from work, so I really needed to take care of it myself. But, having failed the attempt to do it myself before, I decided to just skip to the "act like a helpless woman" part and get it over with more quickly.

I betook myself to the auto parts store, as before.  But, this time, I played the "I don't know what I'm doing" role for the guy at the counter in the hopes he would take pity on me and offer to do it for me. 

"Well...  good luck."

That was not the response I was looking, folks.

So, I went home and emailed  my husband, who knew this was my plan.  I told him that the auto parts store had not behaved as was appropriate and then inquired if Joel (my husband) had any time in his afternoon schedule for a 15 minute minute appointment for Joel's Auto Repair Service.

He said yes, "bring a socket wrench to remove the bolts and a long screwdriver... it'll cost you a Thai Boba Tea."  So, off I went with the appropriate tools.  While waiting for our boba teas to be prepared, the school called.  My youngest was complaining of tummy troubles and had a low fever, so I promised to come pick her up as soon as I was done with this super-quick car repair I was in the middle of.

I picked up Joel, we found an emptyish parking lot, and he went to work.  And worked... and worked... and then worked some more.

"Did you bring any pliers?" he asked me.

"Umm...  no.  PLIERS WERE NOT ON THE LIST."  Long story slightly shorter, he couldn't do the repair without the pliers that I did not bring BECAUSE THEY WERE NOT ON THE LIST, so I said I'd just go to Les Schwab.  Please note these are the people who did it for me last time.

But I had to go get Sick Child from school... so I drove back to the school, picked up Alicia, took her home and made her a bed on the couch, and left run down to Les Schwab.

Again, the most pitiful "I don't know what I'm doing" story ever. And the response?

"Sorry, we don't do headlights."

Seriously, what IS it with the non-chivalry?  Men of the world, you have failed me!!

I'm counting on my father-in-law.

5 Reasons You Should Be Watching 'Once Upon a Time'

On the offchance you've been living under a rock, don't watch TV, or think that fairy tales are just for insipid little girls, let me tell you about "Once Upon a Time."  This is a new-this-year drama on ABC that freshens up every fairy tale you've ever known.  The basic underlying premise is that the Evil Queen has put an appropriately-evil curse on all of Fairy Tale Land.  The curse?  They've all been magic'd away to our world... Storybrooke, Maine-- to be exact.  They've all lost their happy endings, and worst of all, they don't remember who they are.  Mary-Margaret, the sweet schoolteacher, has no idea that she's really Snow White.  David, who I occasionally want to slap, has no clue that he's Prince Charming.  And the two of them have no memory at all (sort of) that they were once part of a magical love story (that is far less "oh poor Snow White" than you remember, folks).  Coming in to save the day is Emma, the daughter of Charming and Snow White, who was magic'd away from Fairy Tale Land at the last minute so that she could someday grow up to fulfill her destiny.  Watch the pilot... it makes far more sense the way they tell it.  :)

And this is why you should:

1. Rumpelstiltskin

He's becoming my favorite character.  He wasn't my favorite character the first episode, or even the second.  He's just a bit scary.  His Storybrooke counterpart, Mr Gold, is not exactly a nice man.  But you're not entirely sure where he stands either.  He isn't a good guy, the way Prince Charmings are good guys.  But, I don't think he's on the Evil Queen's side either.  To my daughter's eternal annoyance, I end nearly every show segment with a thoughtful "Hmmm."  I'm just trying to figure him out and he's delightful in his complexity.  I love the way they've taken an entirely crazy and unsympathetic character and made him... someone you start to care about.  I want to know.  I want to know what happened to him in the past. I want to know what is in his heart now. I want to know if he's ever going to find "her" and if he will allow himself to feel love and be loved.  I WANT TO KNOW.  So do you.

2. They killed off my favorite character.

I know.  This doesn't seem like a reason to watch, but it is.  They killed off a character that was a good guy. They killed him off unexpectedly.  And I loved that.  Oh yes, I was not happy the day I watched it.  But, at the same time, what it tells you is that the writers of this show are not afraid to do the unexpected.  You don't kill off main beloved characters unless the actor has something else to do or you're just tired of writing the guy.  But, they did it, anyway.  And I like being surprised.  It makes me feel like my entertainment is in good hands.  This isn't cookie cutter Faerie Tale Theatre.  This is something new and fresh and fun, and I'm happy to sit back and watch what they're going to do for me.

3. Great writing - beautiful lines.

I'm a hopeful kind of girl.  In a world that seems full of curses and unhappy endings sometimes, I still hope that good will win.  I'm with Prince Charming when he says, "Good can't just lose!"  My heart says "YES."  There are moments while watching this series that my heart sings because what the characters say reaches out and seeks to give it the hope that it craves.  There are lines that I find myself thinking about days later.  Sometimes I agree with them, sometimes I don't.  But always, they make me feel.

Some of my favorites, which may or may not need to be seen in their context to understand why they mean something to me...  go watch the show!!:

"No one decides my fate but me." -- Belle
"The only thing that needed protecting is destroyed.  My heart." -- Snow White
"Never underestimate someone who is acting for their child." -- Mr Gold
"Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you're feeling sucks." -- Emma
"Your bad judgment is your problem, not mine." -- Emma
"Generally speaking, if you think something you want to do is wrong... it is." -- Emma
"Great power requires great sacrifice." -- Rumpelstiltskin
"Believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing." --Mary Margaret -- My Favorite

4. Fresh takes on loved stories

This isn't Disney with real actors.  Well, okay, it's ABC, so technically, it is.  But the stories are reworked.  Snow White is no wispy maiden turned servant girl.  She's cool and she's smart and she's sassy and she can kick your ass.  And I think she did something, but I don't know what! Her prince isn't who you thought he was.  The Queen is both reprehensible, but human.  The same goes for Rumpelstiltskin.  There are stories behind the stories that we don't know, but they're going to tell us.  I LOVE THIS.  The stories are familiar, of course.  We all grew up on them.  But, the stories are NEW, too.  Every week, I look forward to what new thing is going to be presented.  What ways have they twisted the old stories around to something new and interesting?

5.  Trying to figure it all out

Why do people read mysteries? Watch crime dramas?  We want to figure it out.  "Once Upon a Time" gives us a lot to figure out.  How is it going to all play out?  Will Emma save the day?  HOW?  What is it going to take to break the curse?  Will Snow White and Charming's Storybrooke counterparts ever find love that doesn't require furtive meetings in an old deserted cabin? What did Snow do to the Queen?  What does Rumpelstiltskin want and how far will he stoop to get it? Who is the Stranger and what is he doing in Storybrooke?  All these things, and more, are things I want to know and things that the show has not told me yet.

It's why Sunday night at 8pm on ABC is one of my most favorite times of the week.  Maybe THIS week will be the week that I get to know what I most want to know...  or maybe this week, I'll just get to gaze at Josh Dallas a little more, and that's okay, too.

Just Rip It Off

How do you take off your band-aids?  Do you do it one agonizing millimeter at a time?  Or do you grit your teeth and wrench the whole thing off in one agonizing swipe?

When it comes to my emotional band-aids, I'm a "millimeter at a time" kind of girl.  The full in-your-face pains are hard and I want to avoid them at all costs, so I take a bazillion passes at the band-aid.  I peel it off little-by-little, sometimes patting it back down in the process.  Part of me thinks this is to avoid the pain that comes with taking it off.  But, part of me thinks that it's also to prolong it.  It's strange, but there is something provocative and comforting about staying wrapped up in the little bits of hurt and pain and struggle.  We come to know it. It becomes comfortable.  What comes AFTER the pain starts to be the thing that we're unsure of.

But, sometimes, it's a good thing to just do the savage ripping.  A few months ago, on one of my weekly bookstore outings, I sat down and wrote something.  It wasn't something I ever posted here, far too personal and honest.  But I forced myself to examine what the truth of a situation is, and the truth was brutal and hurtful. It was like happening upon a fatal car crash.  It's grisly and ugly and every single cell in your body wants to look away because it's just too much to take in. But this time, someone held my head, refusing to let me look away, and said "NO.  This time, you look and you look hard. You see what it is."

It was good.  It was good to do this.

I happened upon it again the other day. I have roughly a gazillion writing notebooks going at one time, as I tend to leave them places constantly...  the car, upstairs, downstairs, the garage, desk drawers.  I never know WHERE I'm going to find something I've written. But I ran across it and re-read it. The first thought I had was, "Geez, that was harsh."  And it was.  It WAS harsh.  But it was also needed.

Sometimes you need to slap yourself in the face with truth and just get ON with it already.  Rip off the band-aid and deal with it.  DEAL. WITH. IT.  And then be done.

A Night with Scotty, Perry, and Paisley

This was my evening last night.  As previously mentioned, Brad Paisley is my favorite country artist.  Actually, he's my favorite artist, period.  And it was a night of pure magic.

I always buy my tickets through his fan club.  It's a $18 investment to join, but it pays off in big ways when it's time for concert tickets.  The only drawback to it is that you don't know where you're sitting until you pick your ticket up from the box office on the night of the show.  But, I've yet to be disappointed.  Last year, I was in the sixth row, right by the end of the catwalk... which is a GREAT place to be for a Brad Paisley show, as he does a lot of guitar solos at the end of those catwalks.

You want to be able to watch his guitar solos.  He. Is. Amazing.

This year, I picked up my ticket and read... Row 2.  What, seriously?  You have to love a guy who takes care of his fans like that.  SECOND ROW.  And these weren't $200 tickets.  They were just your normal concert ticket price...  I love Brad Paisley.  Like big love.

But before we get there...  he had two opening acts.  The first was Scotty McCreery.  OH MY GOSH, that boy is adorable.  I don't watch American Idol so my only exposure to him has been through a couple songs on the radio, and I wasn't sure what to expect from him.  He is adorable.  I'd heard him described, by some Celtic Thunder fans, as the country version of CT's (and now Glee's) Damian McGinty.  But...  I think that wasn't quite accurate.  Smooth, comfortable, great stage presence.  I loved him... he was humble and grateful and so sweet.  And MAN can that boy sing.  And he's darling, so it's no wonder the younger half of the crowd erupted into such screams when he came out.  I hope he goes far... He reminded me of a young Josh Turner.  Also, he smiled at me.  Yes, I can totally be bought with smiles and winks.  I'm not ashamed.

After a break for stage change, The Band Perry came out.  Now, these guys I liked a lot already.  They've been on the country radio scene for a year or so, and I've really liked everything that they've released.  They're a HUGE lot of fun in person, played all of my favorite songs.  I was a happy girl.  Do you remember that part where I said I could be bought with smiles and winks?  Well...  that's true.  And if you spend your entire set smiling at me, and then POINT AT ME AND SING TO ME, then yes, I am SO sold.  Neil, Perry, I'm talking to you.  :)  Thank you...

Next stage change break and the LONGEST BATHROOM LINE IN THE HISTORY OF MANKIND later... I knew I shouldn't have had that Dr Pepper before the show.  I made it back to my seat LITERALLY just in time.  I'd forgotten what happened during the last concert.  During the 2nd stage break, the empty space always fills up like crazy with people trying to get close to the stage so they can... I don't know, touch him, I guess. The lights went out the second I made it back to my seat, and then Brad's set started.  Oh my happy days.

It was wonderful.  Brad Paisley knows how to put on a SHOW.  It was bright. It was LOUD.  It was A-MAZ-ING.  He's so fun to watch, looks like he's having so much fun.  He played all these songs that I absolutely adore.  He was EVERYWHERE, trying to make as many fans happy as he could.  He's funny, he's sweet.  He presents a REALLY believable hologram of Carrie Underwood. He is an absolute dream to watch on the guitar.

I mentioned that space near the stage...  I wasn't going to join it.  I'm 35, right?  And it's silly.  So I just stayed where my seat was and danced along, perfectly content.  After all, it was the second row, it's not like my view wasn't great already.

But about halfway through Brad's performance, this nice girl came over to me and said, "You look like you should join us!  Come on, there's room for you..."  The grown-up part of me said, "You should say 'no.' You are not 25."  But the I-Kinda-Missed-Being-25 part of me said, "Thanks, I'll be right there!"  That was the part that actually talked.  :)

So I did... and you know what?  I'm really glad I did.  It was fun.  The girl was really nice and sweet, great attitude.  We sang. We danced.  We laughed. We took pictures and were just... silly and fan-ish and girly.  And I didn't care.  Brad solo'd right there and it was delightfully awesome.

So, thank you, Girl Whose Name I Don't Know. Thanks to you, last night was even more fun than it would have been.  I had a really good time laughing and dancing and singing with you.

And thank you Scotty, and thank you the Band Perry, and oh thank you, Brad...  so much.

Last night was amazing and magical and I loved every second of it. Thank you for not disappointing me.  :)

Honeybadger Up!

Happy Saturday!

Ok, first, go read this and then come back:  Blog Like a Honey Badger

I read this a day or so ago, and it really resonated with me.  It's been on my mind ever since.  Do you ever find yourself swimming in not-honeybadger-ness?

It means being yourself and saying what you mean – what you want to say – not what you think you should say.

It's not even that I find myself saying what I should say instead of what I want to say.  I think it's more that I lean too much toward staying within the bounds of what other people think I should say, or at least what I think that is.  It's not that I think I'm all the time asking myself to be someone that I don't want to be.  I do want to be someone who says what she thinks.  At the same time, I ALSO want to be someone who can be kind.  And as time goes on, I find that it's more important to me to be the latter person than it is to be the former person.  But, I think you can stay within the bounds of creating a person of kindness and still be individual, still push the boundaries of expectation, still be you.

I suppose what I like about the honey badger analogy most is, not the propensity to bite the heads off of live chickens, but the lack of fear. I guess it's just made me aware.

I feel a little bit like I've jumped you into the middle of my thoughts and not explained any of them. I haven't told you that sometimes I don't say things... not because they aren't nice, but because I'm afraid of the potential backlash.  I haven't explained that that ONE TIME had more of an effect on me than I really realized. I haven't explained that sometimes people confuse me, and it perplexes me why they're there.

I don't want to be the best blogger in the blogosphere.  Well, okay, if that happened, that'd be great.  But, it's not really my goal.  I just want to be a true blogger.  I want to be honest and forthcoming and straight.  Folks, sometimes that's not going to be pretty, and I don't want to apologize for that.  Sometimes I'm going to tell you the ways that I suck, and that's going to chip hard at my pride. Sometimes I'm going to be transparent and show you the worst sides of me, sometimes the most painful. But I want do it fearlessly.  And sometimes, I'm going to tell you all the ways in which my life kicks ass, and I want to do that fearlessly, too.

I'm not sure yet what influence the honey badger is going to have on me... maybe none, once I get it all sorted out.  But there's something about it that is pushing me to be someone different.  Or maybe it's just pushing me to be someone who is more me than I allow myself to be.

Now... I have a concert to go to tonight, so I am going to not-edit this and get cookie-making supplies for my daughter's playdate tomorrow so that I can come home and get ready for my date with my pretend Nashville boyfriend.

I hope you have a great day!!

Oh Brad.

In high school, I was briefly into country, and by "into," I mean "just barely."  I don't think we had more than the Garth Brooks CD that "Friends in Low Places" is on.  But it didn't do much to take over my then-affair with musicals.  Years passed, I dated and married a man who thinks country rots your speakers, and we lived in Southern California which was not rife with country music stations.

Then, we moved to Washington.  Now... my van had some issues.  Even just GETTING it to Washington, on a truck, had been an issue. (Hush, Mom.) The CD player didn't work. The tape deck didn't work.  The DVD player that Joel had installed worked when it wanted to, which had become "not very often." So, really, my car-listening choices had become "whatever I can get on the radio."  I had just spent 10 years living 1000 miles away from my mom, so to suddenly be a MERE SIX HOURS felt like a gift from God.  We took advantage of this gift a lot that first year, making multiple weekend trips to Eugene to spend time with all the grandparents.

Most of this trip was spent listening to the 80s and 90s radio stations I could find.  But, there is this one patch of I-5, that lasts for about an hour, where the only music stations that it is possible to get through your antenna are Mexican and Country.

I went with the station whose lyrics I could understand.

Thus began my husband's horror.

I started to listen to country music more and more.  I didn't mind the twang, which shows up less and less in newer country (or perhaps it is just that my exposure to it has lessened my awareness of it).  There are lots of things I liked about country music.  I like the stories.  I like the heart. I like that it makes me cry. I even like the "let's go get drunk and be idiots" songs, even though I rarely drink.

I've spent time liking lots of different artists...  I was into Keith Urban for awhile, and then Kenny Chesney, and then Martina McBride, and then Sugarland, and then... and then... and then...  I go through phases all the time.  But the one artist that has consistently been at the top of my favorites is Brad Paisley.  I love him.  He makes me cry, he makes me laugh.  He's not hot... he's just sorta cute.  He has a great sense of humor, and I simply enjoy him.

In 2008 (I think), he came to Seattle for a concert and I didn't go.  Joel doesn't like country music.  I mean, he REALLY REALLY doesn't like country music.  So I would have felt bad asking him to go with me, so I just didn't go.  And then I kicked myself repeatedly.  I adored him so much and I was so sorry that I hadn't gone.  So, I promised myself that the next time he came to town, I would go...even if it meant going by myself.

In the interim, I got into Celtic Thunder.  Celtic Thunder has a core fanbase community that is... weird.  It's obsessive and overly interested, possessive and jealous, the list goes on.  It's just weird.  I'd never been a part of a fan community before so I have no idea if this is normal or not.  And I'm not being critical without including myself...  because I was all those things, too.

In the summer of 2010, Brad Paisley finally came back to Washington, and I decided to go.  I did my research and found that you could get really good tickets buying through his fanclub.  He was playing out at the Gorge, which is this giant outdoor theater out in the middle of nowhere in Eastern Washington.  But, it's gorgeous, butted up against the Columbia River.  So I bought a ticket.  Yes, a single ticket.  It was an all-day event, so I REALLY would've felt bad subjecting Joel to it... so I just went by myself and I had a blast.

Near to the second stage, where some of the smaller acts were playing during the afternoon, the local radio stations were set up doing halfhour-ly Meet & Greet giveaways.  It would've been really cool to meet Brad Paisley because, if I hadn't mentioned before, I completely adore him.  So I hung around and hung around, waiting for the time that they were going to be giving away the tickets for the Paisley M&G.  But, it was getting toward time for the main show to start... and I hadn't eaten dinner yet, and I was hungry.  But going to find food meant losing my chance for those tickets.

I finally said to myself, "You know what... you're going to have fun whether you meet the guy or not.  Go, eat, be merry... have a good time.  Forget about it."

So I did.  And I was right.  I had a fantastic time.

My seats were beyond good.  If I had wanted to, I could have TOUCHED HIS BOOTS.  He smiled and winked at me.  He throws probably a couple hundred guitar picks into the audience each concert, and I caught one to bring home with me.  He did his guitar solos inches from where I stood.

Two seconds later, he forgot I existed.

And I was completely happy with that.

As I drove home that night, I thought, "This is what being a fan is supposed to be."  That changed a lot for me.

Tomorrow night, I'm going to see him play again.  This time, I'm going to the Tacoma Dome, which I've never been to before.  I won't know where I'm sitting until I get my ticket from Will Call.  But no matter, I will have a delightful time, completely content to be a fan.

And I will drive home happy and fulfilled.

Let Go of Your Yesterday

Let go.

Do you have hatreds filling up your heart?

Let them go.

Do you hold onto anger at someone just because it feels good to be able to feel something toward them?

Let it go.

Do you miss someone so much that it hurts?

Let that go.

Do you play conversations over and over in your head, wondering how things could have gone differently?

Let them go.

Do you have grudges that won't let you see goodness, insecurities that won't let you grow inner strength, pain that masks progress?

Let them all go.

There are emotions we keep on a string, resentment we refuse to retire.  We choose to let those things fester in our hearts and create unrest when we could cut the strings, let those feelings float into the wind, and meet the day anew.

I used to quote the Anne of Green Gables line that says that each day is brand new with no mistakes in it.  It brought the promise of a new beginning, a fresh start, a chance to make something good when yesterday had much to improve on.  But, that only works if you stop bringing yesterday's shortcomings into today's morning. Let yesterday be yesterday.  Today is not yesterday, and if we want things to be better, we need to stop treating today like it's simply an offshoot of our yesterday.

Today can be better if we stop dragging yesterday into it.

Let yesterday go, and let today be today.

A letter to my dentist

Dear Mr General Dentist,

Thank you for referring me to the endodontist so that I could get my root canal done and so my tooth can get closer to not making me want to hit things.  Could I possibly request something from you?

The next time you refer me to a specialist, could you just make some little notation on the referral to inform me that the person you are referring me to is really goodlooking?  You see, I overslept yesterday.  When I did, I was left with three choices:  1. Take my shower AFTER taking the kids to school, but that would steal an extra hour from my schedule.  2. Just get my hair wet... not quite as clean as a shower, but at least my hair would be pretty.  or 3. Scrub the whole thing and go with a ponytail and minimal makeup.

My plans for the day included "clean the house" and "get root canal," so there seemed little pressing NEED to do either 1 or 2.  So I went with Choice 3.

HAD I KNOWN that Mr Endodontist was astonishingly handsome, I probably could have convinced myself to go with Choice 1.  I would have gotten less done, but...

Just, you know, for future reference....  so warning would have been appreciated.

Thank You,
Me

Where I'll Be

I live in the Seattle area. In the winter, it usually looks very much like this:

But, every winter, for just a few days in February, it looks rather more like this:

 and on some of those days, I go to somewhere with my best friend that looks quite a lot like this:

 And that's where I'm going today. Hope whoever you like in the Superbowl wins! Go Football People!

Where I Grew Up

I was born in Tillamook, Oregon, which is a little funny when you consider that cheese makes me vomit.  But, perhaps we can attribute it to too much fetal injestion or simply that I didn't spend long in the city.  When I was just 2 weeks old, my parents moved from there back to Eugene, Oregon. I can only be grateful that we did...  I can't imagine what it would be like to grow up in Tillamook, home of the Tillamook Cheese Factory, being the only person in town who can't stand the stuff.  I can't say the same for their ice cream.

Eugene is an interesting place.  When I try to describe it now to people, I just tell them it's where all the hippies of the world go to die.  It's the home of the University of Oregon which gives it a youthful infusion, and the town provides a home for all the granola culture you can stand, all set in the middle of the more rural Willamette Valley.  Eugene residents get their panties in a bunch over EVERYTHING, and I do mean everything.  Reading the daily Letters to the Editor section in the local newspaper is a constant source of amusement to me.  It makes me wonder how people allow themselves to get so worked over such small things...  and then I look smaller, at the things I find myself getting worked up over myself, and I understand. We just do.

My grandparents owned a local restaurant downtown called Seymours Greenery Restaurant.  I'm told it was a happenin' place in the 60s and 70s, and I always loved to hear the stories of those days.  Everyone I've ever met who has grown up in Eugene during those decades gets this reminiscent gleam in their eye when I mention it's the place I grew up.  I would have liked to seen it then when Downtown was still a vibrant place.  By the time I was a child, though, the mall had opened across the river and most of the department stores had moved there, leaving Downtown Eugene a much quieter place than it was in my parents' time.

I have fond memories of Seymours...  working the cash register and learning to count change back at 9 years old, stealing vast quantities of candy from the glass cases, being flirted with by the waitstaff and cooks.  I remember the tall man in the three-piece suit with the gruff voice... and not connecting him with the grandpa I knew from home for years and years.  I didn't know they were the same person.  I remember places in the building that I was afraid to go without my dad by my side to keep me safe. I remember going in the bar on Sunday mornings, when it was closed, and dancing under the disco ball and learning to play pool (badly). When I was a little older, we started having dinner theatre on the weekends and I was so lucky to be exposed to so much theater at an early age.  No doubt, I was also exposed to a lot of theater that I shouldn't have been at such a young age. I remember chicken fried steak and chocolate cream pie. I remember when I understood what "gay" meant and SO many things made more sense.

The nice part of living in Eugene is that it's in the middle of everything.  A couple hours to Portland. A couple hours to the coast. A couple hours to the mountains.  I  had the best of everything, as far as local travel experiences were concerned, and my dad loved to travel... so he did his best to expose us to as much as he could.  The zoo, Inn at the Seventh Mountain, OMSI (a science museum), just about every bed and breakfast on the Oregon coast, Driftwood Shores in Florence, Wildlife Safari, the jetboats at Gold Beach.

Eugene can be a bit strange... but it was a good place to grow up.

Defeated? Not today.

Defeat.

No one likes to encounter it.  Personally, I like to admit it even less than I like encountering it.  There is something about admitting that I've lost or failed that grates on every single nerve in my body and soul.  Admitting that I wasn't good enough is a hard thing to do.  It hurts my self-esteem, my confidence, and my pride (which is, perhaps, not always a bad thing).  But, I'm not sure it's possible to get through life without encountering a defeat or two or hundred.  It's part of life.   They say it's the hard things that build our character and help us become bigger, stronger people.

Last year, two of my daughters were in track for school.  The eldest of my two participants wasn't the fastest person in track.  Just entering her preteen years, she was very cognizant and self-conscious of this fact.  We'd already had a couple meets that she placed near the end to tears of embarrassment.  There was much talk of just doing her best and trying hard, all the good maternal peptalks you're supposed to have.

It was the 75-meter dash.   The other 4th graders were all lined up.  I was at the finish line, waiting with an appropriately-proud smile.  The gun sounded and the children were off.  I don't know the cause.  Was her shoe too big?  Did she forget to tie it?  Whatever the case, about halfway down the length of the track, her shoe came off and she fell.  That spring inside my heart tightened as she watched the crowd of racers speed off down the track without her, knowing full well that there was no way she could catch them.

She did something I didn't expect.  She stood up.  She slipped her shoe back on.  She ran the rest of the race.  She KNEW there was no way she would win.  She knew she would encounter defeat, but she got up and she finished the race.

I learned something that day.  I learned that defeat isn't really defeat if we refuse to let it defeat us.  She didn't win the race that day.  But she didn't let that defeat KEEP her down.  She got up. She finished the race.  I like to think that, even if my girl didn't win what she had intended and hoped to win, she found something more important to take from that day than a ribbon.

On the same day, my younger daughter ran the 50-meter dash.  She's actually pretty good for being rather leprechaun-sized.  I have to work to keep up with her when we race, and it wasn't uncommon for her to come away from her races with several ribbons.  But, not this day.  (Seriously, the track gods had it out for us that sunny afternoon.)  On this day, another girl in her class, we'll call her Rachel, had apparently had just a little too much of my daughter winning the race.  Apparently determined for that not to happen this time, Rachel pushed Alicia down shortly after the race began, sending her sprawling into the dirt... hard enough to keep her limping for the next three days.  (Momma not happy.)

She didn't get up and finish the race.  Her coach led her off the track and into my arms, and we sat on a curb while she nursed her tears ("I'm okay, Mom.... I'm just disappointed I couldn't finish") and her older sister finished the events she was signed up for.  Lots of Alicia's friends hovered around us, wanting to make sure she was okay, as they waited for their races as well.  I don't remember which ones they were, but I will always remember one little girl.  She came over and sat next to Alicia.  After a few minutes, she put something into Alicia's hands and said, "Here...  I want you to have one of mine."

It was one of the ribbons she had won during the day, and I was really glad I was wearing sunglasses that day.  It's sort of embarrassing to cry in front of 10-year-olds.  But, I couldn't help it.  It was such a sweet thing to do, and it was my second lesson on defeat for the day.  Conquering defeat doesn't mean that we have to conquer it on our own.  I'm a constant "I can do it myself"-er, so this was a big thing for me to see.  Sometimes, people come alongside us.  For a time, they are our rocks, they are our strengths.  They lend us their courage and their kindness so that we can summon the strength to look Defeat in the face and say "Today is not your day."

We will encounter defeat, each one of us.  But encountering it doesn't mean that we have to let it win.  Get back up.  Gather those that love you around and draw from their love and courage until you can stand upright, look squarely in the eyes of Defeat, and live to fight another day.

Encountering defeat and BEING defeated are not the same thing.  The former we can hardly avoid, but the latter is something we can fight.

Fight it.

January 2012 Recap

Books I Read
The Swan Thieves, by Elizabeth Kostova
The Peach Keeper, by Sarah Allison Allen
Room, by Emma Donoghue
Before I Go To Sleep, by SJ Watson
The Story of Beautiful Girl, by Rachel Simon
Saving CeeCee Honeycutt, by Beth Hoffman
The Fault in Our Stars, by John Green

Movies and TV I Watched
Once Upon a Time
The Muppets
Sherlock
Raising Hope

Music I Added
Lindsay Stirling
Walk Off The Earth

Things That Happened
Started a new year...  with fresh eyes
Sought out inspiration
Broadened my writing horizons
Spent a lot of time with books
Snowmageddon 2012
Went to Whidbey Island with the girls
Started a new linedancing class
Met John and Hank Green