Day three of NaNoWriMO and more secrets bout me!!

So I'm hovering around five thousand words, which is AWESOME! I've decided to reward myself with a new hoodie if I make my 13, 000 by this weekend.....

My favorite childhood memory is picnicking with my family. We would go to Mt. Mitchell or to Hot Springs or to Chimney Rock and eat cold fried chicken (my Dad would fry it early and pack it in his tupperware lunch box) and mustardy potato salad and girl scout cookies an whatever else was packed. We would hike and sometimes fish or just hang out.

I suppose this is not a deep dark secret but it's fun to think about the things that were fun growing up, it seems so much that we do with our children costs so much money when really all they need is a little bit of time.
Have a great tuesday
*R

NaNoWriMo or the girl next door.

I may have mentioned I'm a story collector, I harvest peoples stories and store them for later to dissect and antidote somehow in later writing.
Oh, I'm not always doing it, but a lot of the time, I'm totally stealing your funny stuff, but in honor of NOVEMBER, which is of course NaNoWriMo time, I'm going to lay it bare, each time I blog I'm going to come clean with a story about me, embarrassing, funny, real...whatever.
Because my medium is fiction I'm going to amp it up with some non fiction to balance it out!

My first antidote:
My kindergarten year I was so sick on Egg Hunt day that I had to lay in the nurses office and listen to the other kids hunt eggs. My mountain school was so small that the cot for sickies was in the teachers lounge, the eggs were hidden in the side fenced yard for the kindergarteners, my best friend for that year, April snuck in and brought me an egg filled with chocolate kisses, (a huge sacrifice!) which I threw up later that night. I will always remember wearing a pretty yellow dress that day and being so exited that I got sick!
some things just stick with you.....
more writing!
go NaNoWriMO's!
*R

I'm fine.

In my line of work-that is, the service industry, I get asked every single day how I am...I say the same phrase almost without fail...I'm fine, thanks so much for asking.
and I am, fine that is. Physically (although I could still stand to drop a few pounds) I'm healthy, I eat well, I see well, and hear perfectly fine, all my fingers and toes work and most of the time my brain is engaged. I have a happy healthy family. We are in no physical pain. We have cars that work and fruits and veggies and a warm and caring extended family. We have what we need, and a good bit of what we want.
but sometimes, like right now, I'm not fine.
I lie.
I'm frustrated, I'm worried and I'm frightened.
I'm frustrated that I can't get as much done as I'd like, I'm worried that I won't get it all done before we move and I'm frightened that things could get worse.
I know when people say, How are you? Most often they are being polite and I adore all things mannerly and polite and to respond I'm fine is more polite than saying I'm so stressed out it feels like I'm swallowing sand sometimes.
but, once in awhile I mean it, I am fine. I am at peace, the very core of me, where I carry my assurance that everything is OK, is still and calm. I relish these moments, because I know, deep down, things are fine, that I'm good, that it will work out, and when I say I'm fine....
it will be true.

What if Weekend

I have a million stories. I love stories. I think it may be what drives me to want to be a writer. I love hearing new stories, My brother, who is a police officer is a well of stories that constantly make me say, I just can't believe it. My Dad, when he tells a story, has this great boyish smile that makes the whole story better and you can't wait to be in on the joke. I love listening to family stories, work stories, church stories, funny stories, serious, heart wrenching stories. And sometimes I pull from my well of stories when I'm stuck or blocked or completely stalled as I have been for the last two weeks. I play the what if game. What if my character fell in love/fell out of love/watched a Disney movie?
I love to play this game in real life, it's a part of my love of a story. I make up stories about people in waiting rooms with me, what if they are on their way to buy a new car, a new dog? I play what if with my life as well, what if I didn't love my children more than my own skin? What if I hadn't met my husband when I did? What if I publish a book? What if I don't?
I play with M, but he tires of it far before I do, what if we won the lottery? What if we were handed everything, what if we didn't know the value of work, and appreciate all we had? What if I publish something to great reviews or to terrible reviews? What if something happens to one of us?
I play with my kids, although they get bored with one round and want a cupcake or a hug, what if we have to move again? What if we can't go on vacation or rent movies?
I love this game, but not only does it get exhausting trying to figure out all the possibilities, it's frustrating to figure out the 'right' thing.
Especially when you are stuck on a puzzle piece of a story. How do I get from point a to point b to the conclusion? Where is my character going and What if I get it all wrong?
I am playing what if this weekend for one of my characters and I wonder will she figure out she's a good guy? What if she doesn't? What if I don't connect the dots?
What if I get so frustrated with the story I press delete and start over?
*R

Blind Faith.

I grew up in church, but I'm a skeptic. I'm not saying I don't believe in God, because I do, I certainly do. I also believe that other religions believe what they believe for a reason as well. Almost every day I go to the YMCA, where you can grab a verse a day out of a basket when you check in. My children grab without fail and today Bradys verse was from Matthew, Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. When I read it to my three year old, he patted my face and said, 'God will help when you are tired, Mommy'. I almost fainted. I am exhausted every single day, but lately I've been feeling a bit better ( I assumed because I was working out regularly) but maybe I wasn't giving credit where credit is due.
Maybe all it took for me to realize how God works every single day in my life is one sentence from my son.
Thank you Lord, for every single day we wake up healthy, with food to eat and clothes to wear and a place to live, Thank you for our jobs, our shoes, our love for each other and our oppurtunities. Thank you for every day my car starts and I have money for gas, thank you for the beautiful weather, birthday cakes and good cell service days. Thank you for friends, for art, for literature, for the energy to get through the day. And thank you most of all for the wisdom of children and the wonder of youth.
And right now, I feel a little less tired just thinking about it.
*R

My life in corsets (ps this is my 100th post!)

So, Hey if you've never met me in real life, I'm voluptuous. I say this in my head the same way a person might say, hey, I have a communicable/venereal disease. I'm not ashamed of my body. OH nononono. I just feel like everyone else is. I feel like my boobs enter a room before I do. I feel like my butt knocks things over of it's own accord and my thighs(my least favorite and most zaftig body part) well, I could wax poetic all day, but I won't bore you.
I have said before and I'll say again, I love the things my body has done, I have three wonderful children(when they are sleeping...or medicated) and I have ran races and delivered a million trays of food and I can swim and bike and play soccer and volleyball.
Yet somehow, I always apologize for myself, when no apology is necessary.
I recently embarked on a new adventure(code word for torture) at work I like to call front of house managing(to those unfamiliar with the resturant industry this means 'complaint handler/jane of all trades)and I have to DRESS UP.
In my life before children, I kind of liked to dress up, granted this was almost eight years ago and long, flowy skirts were in, as were boy pants with suspenders, but I digress. Now, I hate to dress up. Because it means, well, it means some sort of body shaper is generally in order. blech.
I'm pretty honest.
I'm like a five on the angel to politician scale. But I'm not Oprah, I could not on live TV talking about all the business my spanx hold in.
But I will tell you this, I don't wear those suckers every day. Or even most days. I wear them when I do not want to see a muffin toppy roll over the tops of my pants and when the line of my outfit is compromised( which is almost always when I'm dressing up)
It occurs to me, even as I write this, that I've kind of always thought that I'm not exactly thin (but hey, what teenage girl doesn't)
I think however what I'm really trying to say is, that although I'm fine in my house when I'm chilling (as I so frequently chill) when I go out into the world, I still feel the need to suck it in.
I like me, and that guy I married is still a fan(bless his heart) so I've got what matters and yet..still with the funny underwear.

I believe what I see in the mirror (and believe me...although I spared myself only cursory glances in the mirror through my twenties, I've been examing pretty hard here lately botox diaries style) and I'm pretty OK. I mean, I've never been a cover girl, but I think I still got it( and by got it, I mean most of my teeth and decent eyelashes)

My point and remember when I was just (sweet martha already) going to get to it?is this, all women are beautiful, in some way, at some point and if we don't recognize it for ourselves it may not be recognized. Mass consumerism is always going to want us to buy into thinner is better, but if you take care of yourself and don't neglect your health, maybe we can just suck it up on our own and let the funny underwear stay at the bottom of the drawer.

Best
*R

Take me to your leader

I've wasted a good deal of time this summer, as my Ma-maw would put it 'feelin' sorry fer myself '.
and it's true.
I've been mopey all summer. (and whiny, don't forget whiny, I'm really good with whiny)
I miss my friends, my life, I never thought I'd have to go back to work for this long. I hate that my husband is so unhappy and that our future is so unsettled. A fellow writer friend and I just recently had a discussion about whether true writers are taught or born and he said he was more of a mind that true writers, that is-writers that grab hold of you for four hundred some odd pages or so, are mentally unstable. They've suffered, been alcoholics, druggies, grown children of divorce or just plain malcontents.
To some extent I agree. If I had no pain (and really, who doesn't? at some point everyone's feelings are hurt, everyone suffers from that unsteady feeling that can teeter foward towards depression or backwards towards the decision to change what bothers you) I would have no writing. Not that I write about my pain very often, but it fuels the creativeness that keeps me moving forward. Writing is tough, it's a tough business, it's tough to break into and tough to stay in.
I think the funny stories I tell were once something that really bothered me, but I've broken it down, took it apart and realized if I take myself too seriously, I might always be sad. I just may miss the blessing of my small everydays. I would miss the tiny joys (reading a book with B before nap time, watching K grow up to be such a lovely young lady, listening to A talk to anyone, anytime) these are the real things, the constants and although it's hard to be thankful when I'm watching family and friends flounder and search and even my own husband worry and update his resume' and try to make any connection he can. But I am. I am thankful, I'm thankful I have a job, even when I loathe leaving my family and having no time for my friends or myself. I'm thankful my friends are patient with me, I'm thankful most of all for my ability to work with my pain, but not forget my joy.
I hope your summer is going better than mine even though things are looking up and if you are local, some friends are starting a semi-annual consignment sale shelbyclothesline.webs.com for more info!
best
*R