Weirdo!

Michelle Diener and Sabrina Luna have both recently tagged me to post 10 weird facts about myself, so here we go:

1. I talk to myself all the time. Loudly. With large gestures. It's highly embarrassing when I get caught.

2. When I was little (3-4), I used to dig holes under our backyard fence so I could be free. My parents thought it was the dog and got rid of him. After they filled in the holes, I climbed on the dog house, into the nearby tree, swung off a branch over the fence and dropped into the field behind us.

3. I like my pizza cold and my ice cream warm.

4. I'm 43 years old and have a large collection of Harry Potter merchandise.

5. A few years ago, I lived next to a church where the parishioners were so loud and obnoxious (they'd park in my driveway blocking my car, stay outside my window talking until 2am even though I politely asked them several times not to) so I finally got sick of it and squirted them with a water pistol. (Yes, I'm going to hell)

6. I wanted to be a tree when I grew up. Still sounds like a good occupation.

7. When I was about 4 or 5, I tried making my own shampoo and selling it door to door. When that didn't work, I went around the neighborhood and sold all my mother's underwear while she was in the shower. (It sold - you have to understand that my mother was HOT and wore sexy underwear.)

8. I'm directionally challenged. I used to take "short cuts" on my way home from school and be lost for hours, even though I never recognized I was lost--I figured I'd get there eventually. Once my mother even had to call the police.

9. I'm still directionally challenged. (see #10)

10. I don't know my right from my left. If you want me to look or turn a certain way quickly, I can't do it. I have to think about it for several seconds or ask somebody which way that is. I can handle N, E, S & W because those are fixed points, but I've never gotten a handle on left or right - confuses the heck out of me. I hate when I'm in heavy traffic and see a sign on the road that says "merge left" ahead because I never end up in the correct lane.

Magical Mondays: Mind Over Matter

Since I've been blogging a lot about the power of belief lately, I thought I'd share this experience.

Last summer, I was having a lot of chest and back pain. I'd had back pain for many years but had resigned myself to living with it. Well, one day at work the pains were particularly bad, accompanied by symptoms of a heart attack, so I called my doctor and she sent me to the emergency room.

Fortunately, it wasn't a heart attack, but they found a fracture in the upper middle of my back (which explained the chest pain). They also saw degenerative disk disease, arthritis, pinched nerves - you name it, they found it. I went to a spine specialist who looked at the xrays and took some more of his own, and he wanted me to wear a brace. He also wanted to run some more tests, because he thought it looked like I was born with spinal deformities. So, I had to go someplace else to pick up the brace--they aren't in. I had to schedule more tests and an MRI -- they couldn't get me in for three weeks.

In the meantime, I was in a lot of pain. I remembered listening to a Wayne Dyer tape where he talked about his wife shrunk a thyroid tumor through visualization and diet. So every day I started telling myself I was not in pain and there was nothing wrong with my back. I pictured it healed and healthy. If I walked and felt pain, I kept saying to myself that I was NOT in pain and after a few minutes, I wouldn't be. Every night as I went to bed, I'd lie there for a long time telling myself there was nothing wrong with my back, picturing it as perfectly well, and saying "thank you" to the powers that be for healing it.

Three weeks later, I had the other tests. There was nothing wrong with my back - it was just fine.

Right now I have a bit of a headache and stomache--but no, that's NOT true... repeat after me: I am NOT in pain. :)

The Power of Hope

As I drove home from work yesterday, I realized a difference in the way I felt after I spoke with my boss/friend compared to how I'd felt when I'd arrived at work that morning. When I got in the car, I knew the difference was hope. I was still aggravated, still worried about how I could work things out, yet I felt ever so slightly different than I had before, and knew it was because there was the tiniest ray of hope. So small you'd miss it if you blinked, but it made a difference.

Last night, I started reading the book, "Making a Living Without a Job" by Barbara Winter, and went to bed at 1:30 am even more hopeful. I feel much better about going to work next week because now I have other things in mind which working there will help me accomplish.

The difference is that before I used tell myself that working there allows me to accomplish certain things: pay bills, buy food, have insurance, etc. But that still didn't make me happy. Mainly because it felt so final.

Now, I'm looking at it as, "Ok, I can get through this stressful week because it will not only give me the money to pay my bills and the insurance to go to the doctor, it will also fund the things that I know I will be doing soon that will make me happy. Then I will be leaving there to work for myself." You'd think that should have been obvious all along but it wasn't, because I didn't really have the hope or belief things would change. I didn't see how they could. I thought I was stuck.

However, one of the best things about this book so far was an example Barbara gave of how she was determined to go to England one year. She didn't have the money to do it, and didn't know how it could happen. But she didn't worry about the HOW. She focused on the WHAT. She visualized herself there every day. She got her passport renewed and put it on her dresser where she'd see it every day. She got travel brochures and guidebooks. She spent every evening planning her trip. She even made this daily affirmation: "I am going to London this year and it will be a gift." That's some affirmation - she didn't even say "I am going to London and I'll be able to afford it" she said it would be a gift.

She went on to enter every contest for a trip to London, but several months passed and nothing. Her birthday was in October, and she thought "Ok, maybe I'll get the gift for my birthday." Birthday came and went and no trip. A couple of weeks later a friend called, said she had a ticket for a trip to London that she wasn't going to be able to use, and would Barbara like to have it.

It took almost a year, but she got exactly what she wanted. She didn't worry about how it would happen, she just kept believing that it would.

It reminded of the time I made a list of the job I wanted and even though I had no idea how that might happen, I carried it around with me all weekend anyway. By that Monday, I had news of it, and a few weeks later, I had the job. Funnily enough, that is now the job I want to leave. It has changed from the time I started--it's no longer the job I applied for and got--so I'm feeling it's time for me move on. Make a new list. And this time, I'm not going to worry so much about how I'll get there. I'll just have faith that I will.

Sink or Swim

Someone I work with mentioned today how many times she felt like she'd quit if she didn't have a mortgage, then went on to say that there were dreams she'd had of starting her own business, but was afraid to pursue it because she was afraid of not having enough money to get by in the beginning. She then said that she was starting to think that if she ever took the plunge, she'd probably work harder at it because it would be sink or swim. She was questioning whether to just forge ahead and damn the torpedoes, as several other people she knew had done.

I nearly fell over, because before she started talking, I had just been thinking that exact same thing. I keep telling myself to hang on a little longer, until I have enough money saved to last a while, but then some days I feel like I can't hold out a second longer. I've been wondering if I should just take the plunge and know that I had to make a success of what I wanted to do because there would be nothing to fall back on.

It's hard to balance dreams and responsibility. I have a responsibility to my daughter to make sure we have a roof over our heads along with food & clothing. I have a responsibility to the credit card companies I do business with to not file for bankruptcy. ;)

But don't I also have a responsibility to myself to live a good, full, and fulfilling life? Just how selfish can I be? Who'll care two thousand years from now if I quit my job or not? Of course, my daughter will care significantly for the next 4-8 years at least. (rest of high school & college) But to comment on the obvious: life is short, and nothing is guaranteed.

Today, Edie at Magical Musings asked the question, "Do you wake up planning on doing one thing and knowing you should do another?"

My answer: Every single day.

The question I ask is, what is it I truly ought to be doing? Recently (and unfortunately, I can't recall exactly where at this moment), I read that if at any time we ever desire to create--to play music, to write, to dance, to paint, even to start our own business--it is the Universal Spirit attempting to create through us; and should we heed this, we will be led in the right direction. I'd like to believe that. The risks are more than a little scary, though. Do I follow my dreams and perhaps fall on my face, or do I stay in a "safe" place (that could turn me loose at any moment anyway, should they fall into trouble) - how do I hedge my bets?

Do you ever feel that way?

The Power of Belief

I read this article today about how believing an activity is exercise, and good for you, causes it to be more effective.

The article said that people who think they're getting a good workout obtain more benefits than those who perform the exact same activities, but don't think what they are doing is exercise.

Harvard researchers did a study where hotel cleaners were told that their room cleaning each day was enough physical activity to maintain a healthy lifestyle. At the end of four weeks, they were more trim and fit than their peers who weren't given this message, even though they'd made no other changes in their lifestyles.

It reminded of another article I'd read a long time ago showing that muscles could receive the benefits of exercise just by a person's thinking about exercising them. Someone studied a group who did nothing different except visualize themselves exercising, and some weeks later, their muscles had grown.

This brings me back to the discussions of the power of visualization and positive thinking that I've been involved in on other blogs, as well as here. Boob Wishes, for instance; the book, "Write it Down, Make it Happen"; The Secret. All of these things, (and including many religious traditions) seem to work off the premise: thoughts have power. Picture it, believe it, and it will happen.

Now, I'm off to picture my headache going away, as well as myself being fit and trim. :)

Goodnight all.

Feeling guilty...

I missed Magical Mondays yesterday because I'm not feeling well. In fact, I'm home from work sick today.

...yet for some strange reason, I'm here in front of the computer... Okay, in my defense, I had to get on to see if my daughter's school closed because of the snow (they didn't - woohoo! I get to go back to bed in peace.) Bad mother!

Anyway, I've got some good stuff for future MM's that I hope to get up there at some point. In the meantime, though, I've got a question going at my other blog that I'd really like for people to answer if they'd be so kind. Michelle and Edie got me curious about something and now I want answers, darnit. :)

By the way...

I got the cover for the anthology the other day and this is the first chance I've had to post it.

Here it is if you're interested: Masquerade

The Sweet Smell of ... Sweat?

Hmmm.... then why do the deodorant do such big business?

(From Reuters)
For women, apparently there's nothing like the smell of a man's sweat.

Researchers at the University of California at Berkeley said women who sniffed a chemical found in male sweat experienced elevated levels of an important hormone, along with higher sexual arousal, faster heart rate and other effects.

Apparently, it also elevates mood and contributes to an overall sense of well-being.

Can't say that sour oniony smell ever did it for me quite like that. Give me a man fresh out of the shower, still smelling of shampoo and his own sweet (clean) self. That will get my heart rate going, among other things. :)

Missing in Action

Real life is taking center stage right now, so I'll have to miss this week's Magical Mondays. Meanwhile, to get your magical fix, the Samhain Weblog had a nice post on unexplainable events, and Susan Miller sent me this link that you might enjoy.

I hope to be back to the blogs (mine and yours) sometime next week. Be well everyone.

 

Romance

I was blog hopping this morning through some of my favorites, still a little crabby from a long, hard week, still questioning whether I should even attempt to write romance being the cynic I am, and came across this.

Love Letter

I'm going to go find some more Kleenex now.

 

Boob Wishes Strike Again!

Congratulations to my CP Amber on her recent new contract! That makes two contracts in the past couple of months. She sent the email with the title "boob wishes" but I also think it's been a lot of hard work and the fact that her talent grows and grows.

Keep those boob wishes tucked in people! :)

Holy Crap!

What has Jennifer Lopez done to her face?

Normally, I don't talk about celebrities. Don't think about them much, don't really care. However, I saw this photo from her new video on Yahoo a little while ago and was horrified.

The reason why this one bothers me so much is because every time my half-Latina daughter says to me she wants to take her college fund money and get a nose job, I've always pointed out Jennifer Lopez's nose, how it's similar to hers, and how J.L.'s considered one of the most beautiful women in the world.

Now I guess I'll just have to say how sad that even with all her fame and fortune, she still didn't think she was good enough.

Before:


After:

Magical Mondays: Intuition
(Once again posted on Sunday...may have to change the name) :)

There have been many times when my intuition prodded me to do--or not do--something and if I listened, things went well. If I didn’t, every single time I was sorry.

For example, last year my brother was out late. I knew he had gone to his favorite “watering hole” but felt he should have been home by a certain time and he wasn’t. Yet whenever that happened in the past, I would call to check on him and he always just fine--usually waiting for someone to get off work, or had gone home with one of the women who worked there. I could tell he got annoyed with me for calling to check on him (I usually called to see if he needed a ride home so he wouldn’t drink & drive) so I stopped calling, trusting him to be a big boy and take care of himself.

Well, that particular night, I was very agitated. I couldn’t stop worrying about him. I paced the floor, asking my daughter every few minutes if she was sure he hadn’t called. (She’s not so good at passing along messages.) I even picked up the phone several times to make sure it was working, yet hesitated to call him. ‘He probably just went home with a waitress,’ I thought. Since he didn’t really like me calling to check on him, I was torn. At one point, I even got dressed because I had a strong feeling that I should drive around to look for him, then told myself I was being silly. He was a grown man, and he would call me if anything were wrong.

For three hours, it went on like that, my intuition screaming, “Something’s wrong!” my brain saying, “leave it alone.” Finally, the doorbell rang, followed by loud pounding. It was my brother, out of breath and in pain. He’d lost his keys and tried to walk home from the bar (stubbornly refusing to get a ride from anyone, thinking it was only about 3 miles, he could handle it.)

Now, for most, that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing, but this man has only one leg and a bad heart--AND--the dingbat had stopped at the store then tried to carry home a 50lb bag of salt as he went. His foot bled from blisters, and the end of his one thigh swelled painfully around the prosthetic leg. He was also upset because he’d tried to call several times once he felt he couldn’t go on. I didn’t see how that could be, since I’d hung near the phone most of the night checking to see if it worked. I’d even looked once to see if the ringer was turned off, but couldn’t find a switch that indicated it. He hobbled over to the phone and found the sound switch. Sure enough, it was off--my daughter had forgotten she’d turned it off. (teenagers--grrrr)

I told him why I had hesitated to call, and he understood, but said he would have begged me to come get him. He finally abandoned the salt about a mile into the trek, and sat on it nearly crying from pain, calling over and over. I asked what time that was, and it was about the same time I’d gotten dressed with the idea to drive around looking for him. My intuition was right, and I didn’t listen to it.

Of course, he could have called someone else, or even a taxi, but he’s stubborn, thought he could do it, and didn’t want anyone to witness his embarrassment. (Sorry--cat’s out of the bag now.) :)

The point is, though, this wasn’t the only time something like that has happened. My intuition will prod me and if I listen, it’s good; if I allow “reason” to take over, I’m always sorry later. Yet, it is still almost impossible for me to follow my intuition when logic has arguments against it. Do you ever have that experience? Are there times when you listened to that little nagging voice in your head and it was exactly the right thing to do, or times you didn’t listen and you were sorry? How do you override your so-called “good sense” and go with your gut?

Style and Taste

If you asked my daughter, she'd assure you most vehemently that I possess neither. But I'm not concerned about fashion sense (she's right--I have none), I'm concerned about writing.

I've mentioned before that I don't think I'm a very good judge of my own work, and lately that seems to keep hitting me between the eyes. I think I vacillate between two very different styles: one whimsical and sparse, the other serious and verbose. I have the most fun with the whimsy, feel it's "truer" to my voice, yet I've noticed people tend to respond more positively to the serious stuff--the stuff that I think is bad, over the top and the purplest of prose even as I write it.

Could it be that my attempts at humor are like my attempts to wear blue jeans--shouldn't be done, especially with elastic waists? Are those bits I dismissed as painfully purple really the sweater I'm embarrassed to wear, yet always receive compliments on it when I do?

I honestly don't know. How do you know if your stuff is good or not? Do you think you're a good judge of your own writing?

I need a wife, and other things...

There was a fire drill early this morning at my office. It was about 16 degrees outside and we all had to huddle out in the cold for what felt like hours, but in reality was only about ten minutes. There were construction workers nearby digging ditches, laying marble over concrete stairs and other things. Most of the poor guys were on the ground, in holes, or sitting on concrete--they had to be freezing. I felt so bad for them and hoped they were being paid well and had good wives they could to home to for warmth and comfort. That's when it hit me. I need a wife. :)

I want to come home from a long day at the office and have dinner waiting for me, the laundry done, the house clean, and my daughter well taken care of. I want someone who will make sure my bills are all paid on time and that the bathroom is already warm when I go in to take a shower.

I used to be that kind of wife; now I need one. I could use some help around here. And for that privilege, I'd pay for all her expenses, buy her pretty clothes, and she wouldn't even have to sleep with me. :)

Now, speaking of people helping people (well, actually in this case, it's going to be about people helping animals), Sidney Williams posted a link on his blog about an organization that is currently looking for short stories to sell for two months (they don't buy the rights--just use the story for those two months), the proceeds of which go to help rescue animals. You can check it out here.

Magical Mondays: A Grandfather's Gifts

(Posting on Sunday due to time constraints)

I had originally planned to blog about a different topic for this Monday, but something happened Friday that changed my mind.

This may ramble a bit, but please bear with me as I try to keep to the timeline of important events here. :) Some of you may recognize this because I talked about it in someone else's blog, but now there's more.

Some background: My parents divorced when I was six and I only saw my father a handful of times after that up until age 11, then he disappeared from our lives. My paternal grandfather, too, disappeared after the divorce until I was about 15. He just showed up on our doorstep one day--he'd hired someone to find us--and said he didn't care what his son or my mother said, he wasn't going to go on cutting his grandkids out of his life. Apparently, our dad told him our mom didn't want him coming around, and told our mom his father didn't want to see us, thus the breach.

Over the years, he kept in touch and my brother even lived with him for a years. About six years ago I visited him and found out that he'd written 21 books over the years; something I didn't know and was pleased to discover. He had self-published, and he autographed a copy of one his books for me--it's one of my treasures--and said I could edit his next book.

Go forward to around May of the following year: I had a feeling I was forgetting something important that was due to happen on July 18th. My daughter's birthday is the 14th, so I knew that wasn't it. I thought maybe I'd forgotten a friend's birthday, so I called her to verify the date; she said no, not until October 18. Perturbed, I searched the house for clues as to what I was forgetting and found nothing. Nevertheless, I circled the date on all my calendars at work and home. It wasn't until I bolted out of bed on the morning of the 19th that I realized what day it was: my grandfather had died the day before, and I'd circled the date two months before it happened.

A couple of weeks later, I was sitting in the living room thinking about two men that I had been semi-dating at the time and wondering if I ought to continue, pick one, or drop both when I heard my grandfather's voice in the room loud and clear, saying, "Ain't neither one of 'ems worth a shit!" It shook me pretty badly because it sounded as if he were in the room right next to me. Not long afterward, I found out he was exactly right--they weren't. :)

Fast-forward to this past week and bear in mind that the first and last time I've seen my father in the past 30+ years was at my granddad's funeral five years ago.

Thursday night, I was remembering some pictures taken at my grandparent's house 14 years ago, but that had gotten lost over the years. I had seen one when I went to get my things in Arizona and thought I had brought it home with me, but searched and couldn't find it. It was the last one I had. I wished there were some way I could get copies of all of them, especially digital ones, but knew there was no way. No one else had any, and they weren't taken with a digital camera, so I was out of luck. It made me really sad.

The next day, I got an email from my dad. It said, "We were going through some old pictures today and came across these from your Grandpa." Attached were all the photos I thought were gone forever.

He's still looking out for me.

Milestones

Yesterday, I made plans to mail my contract and the hard copy of my story to the publisher this weekend. I looked up at the calendar and realized I would be mailing it on my birthday. That seemed fitting. I received the acceptance letter for this story around the one-year anniversary of joining the RWA--which was the anniversary of when I decided to seriously pursue publication--so why not mail the contract on the anniversary of my birth?

Happy Birthday to me. :)

Early to bed, early to rise...

Will make me tired anyway. I spoke to my boss today about cutting back on my hours to spend more time with my daughter, and the good news is that I was able to rearrange my schedule to allow more down time and for me to be here when she gets home from school--even better, I'm not having to take a cut in pay to do it. Sometimes the powers that be are good to us. :)

However, it will also mean adhering to a stricter schedule than I'm used to, as well as going to bed earlier and getting up earlier. I've also laid out a new plan with my daughter about changes that need to be made around here, and while it might be difficult at first, in the long run it will be far better for both of us. What this will also mean is that in the short run I'll have less time for blogging, but in the long run, more time for writing in general. So, while I had good intentions of running daily themes, I can see that won't happen. I'll still try to do "Magical Mondays" just because I find the reminder of small miracles to be inspirational, and hope others may find some comfort in them as well. :)

One step closer...

To the final round. I received an email tonight from one of the editors at Aphrodite's Apples with the edits of my short story attached. Well, I was surprised, dismayed and embarrassed because I hadn't sent in the final version to be edited yet--she was going off the original I had sent in for consideration. (I'd found a few small errors that I fixed and was waiting for a contract clarification before sending it in, something I'd asked about earlier and was told to send in my final with the contract.) Anyway, I guess with the holidays and everyone so busy something slipped through a crack.

However, the good news is that I wrote back to explain and she was lovely about it. (Thank goodness--I hated coming off as the newbie I am! lol) Even better, I looked over her edits and they were mainly the ones that I had already caught, plus a few I didn't see. (Great to have another pair of eyes--she also tweaked the very last sentence of the story and made it a lot better.)

So, now it's back in her hands to see if she likes/hates/is indifferent to the other minor tweaks I made. It's getting closer now! I'm really looking forward to seeing what they come up with for the cover art. I liked the last two Masquerade covers--it will be fun to see what volume three looks like.

Magical Mondays: Someone to Watch Over Me

Some time ago, there was discussion on Magical Musings about the book "Write it Down, Make it Happen" by Henriette Anne Klauser, which led to "Boob Wishes." (My "Boob Wishes" are a post for another Monday :)

Anyway, since I've been experiencing some uncertainty lately about the direction my life has been taking, I remembered something that happened several years ago--long before I'd heard of boob wishes or Ms. Klauser. :)

A bit of a prologue:

One night, several years ago, I dreamt that I was walking down a hallway, and suddenly a very dear friend named Kathy, who had died many years before, appeared in the hall. I was so amazed and happy to see her and truly felt her presence--it didn't feel like a dream. I was just so overjoyed and astounded that I asked, is it really you? She nodded and smiled, gave me a hug, then opened a door behind her. She took my hand to show me inside, but I held back and looked through the brown metal blinds of a large window by the door. Inside the room were several corporate types sitting around a table with computers--there was one red-haired woman I found particularly intimidating. Kathy tried to get me to go in and talk to them, but I was afraid. I felt like I wouldn't belong there, but she told me I had nothing to fear, that I could go in. Still I resisted, just knowing I didn't belong in a such a group (I could see they were far better educated and experienced than I was) so I just watched for a few minutes then I woke up, still feeling like she had really been with me.

Flash forward a couple of years...

One weekend, I was depressed wondering if things were ever going to look up for my daughter and me, and if I was working to the best of my abilities (do you sense a theme here--I do this periodically.) I had quit a full-time job to work part-time, but I wasn't making enough money to cover all the bills.

That Saturday, I thought about all the things I had done up to that point as far as work (I had only been working for about five years then--had been a homemaker for the ten years prior.) I wrote down all the things I had enjoyed doing, and what my "ideal" job at that time might look like. I also wrote down a salary that as a no-longer-young, single mom with limited education didn't really seem feasible, but I wrote it down anyway. I put the list in my purse and went about my business.

The next day, Sunday, I took my daughter to a nearby town to watch a movie. While we were there, I remembered a computer instructor from a class I took soon after my divorce, David Z. He and his family lived in that town and were very kind to me, but I hadn't seen them in several years. The notion crossed my mind to stop by and say "hello" but I dismissed it, thinking it would be too odd after so much time had passed, so I just went home.

The next afternoon (Monday) I got a call from the new secretary at my former job. She asked if I knew a David Z. and said he had called for me that morning, but she didn't want to give him any information about me if I didn't know him. (Dave had also recommended me for the former job.) She said he left his number because he wanted to talk to me about a job I might like. I called, amazed since I was just thinking of him the day before, but was even more surprised when he described the job: it was everything on my list, including the salary.

Of course, I felt it was out of my league and there was no way I would get it, but I applied anyway. To my great surprise, I got it. But the most astounding of all, was a few weeks later when they showed me around the building. There it was: the large glass window by the door, the brown metal blinds and people sitting around a table with computers. And that scary red-haired woman? Her name is Shauna, and she's not nearly as intimidating as I thought she would be.