Kissing It Up to God

Which is not to say “kissing up to God”, which is something else entirely. And let’s not ignore the in-joke that within my critique group, my nickname is God. Occasionally someone says, “OMC”, meaning Oh My Carla. :-) Nearly two years with these wonderful ladies and that joke never manages to get old. (I’ll write up an explanation of where the nickname came from another time, but it was brilliant, and I have the lovely and talented Jaye Garland to thank for it.)

Yesterday I was in such a state, I nearly gave myself an anxiety attack. So many things going on that I have no control over. I did have control at one point, but when the interview was over, my control ended. Still, I panicked over the results. It took me hours but finally I decided I needed to let go and let God take over. Once control is out of my hands, it’s much better in His.

Now, I’m the last person you’d call a Bible thumper. When we first moved to PA, I wanted the boys to have a solid Lutheran foundation, but we had problems finding a church that tolerated Alex. (What a lovely Christian attitude, treating a child with a developmental disorder like he was a leper.) As a result, we haven’t been to church in over 10 years.

Also, when I started working full time and Sundays became the only day to catch up on a tiny bit of sleep, I could only hope God appreciated that I showed my devotion with my actions rather than with my words. I firmly believe that standing in church on Sundays makes you no more of a Christian than standing in the garage makes you a car. Even the Bible says that words without action are meaningless. (Don’t quote me; I haven’t read it in a while.)

Regardless, I wear a cross on a chain around my neck, and honestly, simply by hanging over my heart every day, it makes me feel better. It’s like the saying about wearing a cap with your favorite baseball team on it: it’s not a hat, it’s a flag. It shows the world who you support, what you’re about, where you come from and what’s behind you. It’s the same thing with my cross. I’m not given to Tebowing, but I can see how it brings someone comfort. (We won’t get into my badass crush on Tim Tebow. I’d happily arm-wrestle Katy Perry for a date with him.)

In the stress that went on yesterday, I managed to forget this. It took me hours to really let go, mentally. I ran and it helped a lot, but it wasn’t enough because on the drive home from the gym, my mind raced with thoughts of potential problems that could result, depending on the outcome to be chosen by someone else. Know what? All my worry didn’t change anything but my blood pressure, and not for the better.

For the time being, all I can do is wait to hear the decision. What comes after, I’ll deal with it when I know. I can’t fight the unknown, and there’s no point in worrying about it. Whatever happens, happens. I’ve kissed it up to God, and for now I’m just going to do the best I can with the situation I’m currently in. If I ever forget, all I have to do is look to my heart.

BTW, if you’re Tim Tebow and you happen to be in the Philadelphia area any time soon, feel free to drop me a line via the email address in the Contact box. I’d love to set something up.

45

Tomorrow I turn 45. I’ll never lie about my age and I don’t plan to color my hair. I’m letting the grays grow out in honor of the women I know who never had the honor of seeing themselves go gray. I won’t go gentle into that good night, but I will grow old with grace.

But damn, does it bug me to think I’m middle aged. My life is more than half over, and what have I done with it? I don’t have an answer to that. I wish I could say I’ve done more, but I do know I don’t plan to waste the time I have left.

Make it a good one. Someone cares about you.

V-Day

Yeah, I know; *that* day is coming up. Woo hoo. As a romance author I should probably put more stock in Valentine’s Day, but I can’t. Why shower someone with “gratuitous” affection one day out of the year and treat them like crap the other 364? It doesn’t come close to making up for it.

As I learned in “Men are from Mars…”, bringing home the bacon is all well and good but in a woman’s mind, it’s one point. Men also get a point for remembering the anniversary or taking out the trash. To a woman it’s not the size of the gesture, it’s the act itself, big or small. (And you really thought size mattered to us.)

I’d much prefer someone ignore V-Day altogether if all the days as a whole are made better. That’s just my philosophy.

I knew someone who gave his wife kiddie Valentines and left them all over the house for her to find. It probably took weeks, but imagine finding one two weeks later and feeling that same rush of awesome all over again?

Another time, he gave the neighbors Valentine’s cards, telling them how much he loved his wife. Nothing like spreading the word, huh? I’m sure people talked about it forever, like I’m still talking about it now.

I say, keep the flowers; empty the dishwasher instead. Loading it wouldn’t hurt, either. Or pick up a pizza, or agree to watch a Ryan Gosling movie, or take the kids out for an hour. Each is one point, but accumulated, it’s greatly appreciated. It’s why a woman in love will often say she doesn’t care how rich they are (foolish girl!), as long as they’re happy. You could work at WalMart but if you came home and gave me a foot rub, I’m yours. The little things really do mean a lot to a woman. One “big” thing (in your eyes) is just one thing in hers.

As for me, this year I plan to buy myself flowers. I deserve them, and I don’t want them from anyone else BUT me.

Next year, though, fair game. Just sayin’.

What I Can’t Do

I need instructions on posting YouTube videos on WordPress. Then I could rely on the “if a picture is worth a thousand words, a video is an epic novel” concept. Also because there are times that a song says it better than I ever could. If I could write a book like Diane Warren writes songs… <swoon> Leave it to songwriters to tell an entire story in 3 minutes. It takes me 80K words. That’s eighty pictures!

Sadly, I remember posting my playlist a few weeks ago, and I forgot to include the hyperlinks, so all that sat here was words. Yawn. Maybe this time I’ll remember.

The new story I’m working on got started because I watched “A Smile as Big as the Moon” on Sunday night. I didn’t plan on watching it, but it was on while I was at the computer and I let it go. Nothing else going on, anyway. I was pleasantly surprised; it was really good, and I ended up watching the last hour. As the kids in the movie were working on a project, ELO’s “Mr. Blue Sky” played, and it perked me up a bit. I downloaded it before the song stopped playing because it caught my attention. Mentally I started working a story around it. So far I’m nearly 8K words into it and the song still clicks with me. Since then, I play it when I get in the car to go to work every morning. It helps.

The other day I had a nasty case of the blues, so I gave up trying to be strong and begged God to give me a sign that things would be all right. I started writing this story-in-progress the very next day, so I take that as a good sign. But I find signs in everything, including the fortune cookie I opened tonight that said, “Look around; happiness is trying to catch you.” I hope that means Pat Burrell will be behind me at the Phillies 5K next month, but this is me, not holding my breath.

Tonight my iPod played two songs with very strong meaning for me:  Kelly Clarkson’s “Behind These Hazel Eyes“, and Hot Chelle Rae’s “Bleed”. I’m sure I’ve mentioned “Bleed” before. The card written in the video, saying “Take the Risk” got my full attention the first time I saw it, but as a writer, the words “I bleed my heart out on this paper for you, so you can see what I can’t say” strikes to the core of who I am and what I’m trying to do.

I got lost in this one tonight. Give it a listen. I’m not telling who it is. Hear it for yourself.

Before I discovered Mr. Blue Sky, I listened to “The Sun Will Rise” to get myself motivated. If I’m on the treadmill, though, “What Doesn’t Kill You (Makes You Stronger)” is nothing short of brilliant on so many levels of my life that I’ve lost count. If that comes on when I’m on the elliptical, I could generate enough power to light Broadway. (For all of two minutes, likely.) I love every song on that CD with the exception of “Einstein”. Who wrote “Dumb plus dumb equals you”? I’ve felt that way about people too, but really?

Problem being, I’ve heard all these songs 300 times in just the past week. (Seriously.) I need a new theme song. Ideas? Something with spark, full of positive energy. Something I can hear in my head when I get out of bed in the morning, and it makes me think, “I’m going to kick today’s ass!”

Let’s hear it. What inspires you to kick butt and take names? Oh, and before you suggest it, CeeLo’s “Forget You” is already in my playlist. It *ought* to be on everyone’s.

Miracle

I have a miniature version of the movie poster to “Miracle” tucked away on my desk at work, and every now and then I look at it and smile. Partly because I have a big, bad crush on Eddie Cahill, who played Jim Craig (and is a devoted Rangers fan), and partly because the tagline is, “If you believe in yourself, anything can happen.” It used to be I felt that sentence applied mostly to the writing component in my life, but lately it means more. 

I signed up for the Phillies 5K in March. Mind you, I only started to TRY running in September or October, but I found out I loved it and now I’m pushing myself to do more with it. It’s funny because I remember being in my 20’s and reading about varicose veins, and the article said you can combat them with exercise. I told myself, when I turn 30, I’ll take up running. Well, I’m 14 years late but I finally got around to it, and I’m enjoying it a lot more than I expected to. If the day is dragging on, I tell myself, “Tonight’s my running night!” and I get through it. Like last night. 

With the encouragement of some friends, I’m also debating signing up for the Down n’ Dirty Mud Run in July. I’ve heard it’s a blast but I think I’ll see if I survive the Phillies 5K first. Really, 3.1 miles doesn’t seem like much at this point. Maybe in a few years, I’ll work up to marathons. Har de har har.   

I was invited to join a terrific “foodie”-type blog called Chicklets in the Kitchen, and my first post went up last Friday. It’s been fun! They wanted a vegetarian voice so here I am. I never thought I’d be the voice of vegetarianism. The challenge isn’t just writing the post; it’s in finding new and interesting recipes to share. Most of my dinner fare is thrown together after I make the boys their dinner. (Oh, how I love Market Day Kyoto Blend veggies, sprinkled with lemon! Actually, anything sprinkled with lemon works for me.) 

The only thing I haven’t done enough of lately is write, but given the stuff going on in my real life, it’s hard to think of romance as anything more than a marketing plan. At the bottom of the “Miracle” poster is one word, in all caps: BELIEVE. I want to; I really do. If “anything can happen”, maybe I’ll get there again some day.

Shh, I’m Reading

I finally started reading “Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus.” It’s amazing how many mistakes you can make when you don’t know you’re making them.

Before that, I re-started “Games People Play.” I read it before, 10 years ago, but it’s definitely a re-read. It pointed out that my relationship at the office wasn’t on an adult level; I was working from an adult/child perspective, and guess which one of us was behaving like a child. I much prefer this approach.

And since I also need recreation, I’m reading Hope Ramsay’s “Welcome to Last Chance” when I’m at the gym. I love seeing scenes I critted for her, there on the page in front of me. If you have a copy, my name is in the acknowledgements. This is me, grinning.

Yes, I know that as a writer I should also be writing, but you can’t keep cooking for the rest of the house without eating something for yourself. Otherwise you have nothing to give. So far I’m happily editing, but the idea of writing fresh again…okay, I’m a little nervous. I’m frantically praying the well hasn’t run dry, but what writer worth her salt hasn’t thought *that* at some point?

Now shh. I’m reading, and I’m up to the good part.

What you weigh

I chatted with Jim Bromley today at Snap Fitness Norristown after I finished my run. He’s terrifically supportive and one of my biggest cheerleaders, especially after I told him I can now run level 3 on the Rolling Hills program without going slower on the high inclines or lowering the incline level. (Let me tell you, incline 6 is killer stuff. I wasn’t sure I’d do it, but I kept telling myself, “Just this once more. You can do it.” And I did.)

I told him how much I’ve lost so far–19 pounds since August–and he handed me a 20 pound dumbbell. Holy mackerel, that’s a lot of weight when you’re holding it in your hands, and that’s what I took off my back, hips, and knees. Actually more. Theoretically, if you lose 1 pound of body weight, you’re taking 4 pounds of stress off your knees; therefore, I’ve relieved my knees of nearly 80 pounds of stress. PFC, huh? (pretty freaking cool, or use the F word of your choice) 

It’s not easy, reminding myself that I do need to give my body a day off now and then. If I don’t get to go to the gym, I get itchy during the day. (Add a B to that and you know what I mean.) But my hip flexor bothered me last week so I took Friday off, and on Saturday I appreciated that. No more than one day, though, or the momentum is at stake. I know myself too well.

I wish I could get back to writing but lately the ideas just aren’t moving. There’s a lot going on at home and it weighs on my mind much more than any story I’ve ever worked on. I’d like to believe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel and it isn’t an oncoming train, though I know it’s going to take more work than I’ve ever put into anything before in my life. We’ll see how it works out. (Sorry to be cryptic but that’s all you’re getting out of me.)

Though while I’m at it, maybe you can help. The problem I’m stuck on is an old man character. He’s a curmudgeon, sort of. He was a 6-term Senator, now retired, and trying to assure himself some sort of legacy, though he has no biological children. (He has two adopted children, one of whom is the hero of the story.) Cold as he appears on the outside, on the inside he’s afraid of being alone, and if he continues in his current path, his adopted son is going to turn his back on him. I’m looking for models for this character. He’s the antagonist, but he has a heart too, and he wants what he wants for a very basic, human reason. Any ideas for models I can study?

Once I get a handle on that, I think I’m going to have one hell of a story.

Almost

My week has been totally off kilter thanks to having Monday off. Tuesday felt like Monday, and today felt like Wednesday. Thank goodness tomorrow is, and always will be, Friday.

Not much to report, other than I’m now officially training for a 5k. I never thought of myself as a runner, but that was because I was afraid. I’m not anymore. I have no reason to be. Life is too short to let fear rule your life.

Last year I started running on the treadmill at the gym, and I found out I loved it. Maybe it’s endorphins or maybe it’s the cute guy with the dark hair, but I’m there all the time now. In the last two months, I don’t think I’ve missed more than a handful of days I could’ve been at the gym. I don’t want to. It feels too good.

My terrific friend Madeline suggested I register for a 5K so I have something to focus on, and a goal to shoot for. I know of one that I’d like to do, so I’m going for it.

Wish me luck!

Out with the Old

A common theme at this time of year, but this year is not ending the way 2010 did. I was blindsided in 2011 by more than a few things, but thanks to my friend Valerie’s gift of a really good book, I’m coming to grips with the fact that change is inevitable, and to live a better life, I need to stop resisting change and instead roll with the flow of it.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned is how powerful a motivator fear is. Ever see pickup trucks with “NO FEAR” on them? I used to think it was macho BS. On trucks, I still think it is, but it made me notice something. Everyone’s afraid of something. But a friend told me a long time ago, “Courage is knowing what you’re afraid of, and doing it anyway.” I keep that in mind when I query an editor or agent I would LOVE to work with but I know is so busy and so talented that everyone wants to get to her/him. I shut off the fear center in my brain, seal the envelope, and drop it in the mail. (Or shut my eyes and hit “send”. Believe me, I do that EVERY time.)

Now that I’m facing a very uncertain future, my first reaction was fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of whether I’d land on my feet. Fear that I’d never be happy again. Not to mention, hating the hell out of the person who swiped my future life and expectations out from under me. That hatred was born out of fear. I went through all the stages of grieving, and every now and then I get glimpses of “acceptance”. I’m like a mouse, peeking out from under the cupboard at a crumb on the center of the kitchen floor. Some times I get closer than others.

But it’s a matter of accepting change, rolling with it, and looking forward to what comes next. NOT being afraid of it.

It used to be the Madison Avenue slogan was, “Sex sells.” It’s why in the 70′s, my uncle bought a Mercury Cougar on his credit card, because he thought Farrah Fawcett came with it. Uh, no. But I’ve noticed that since 9/11, fear sells, maybe even more than sex. The market now offers programs to protect you from identity theft; commercials advise you what to keep in an emergency kit; home security system signs are on most houses on my block. Oftentimes, the price of security is privacy, but we won’t get into that. The ubiquitous “they” have figured out, you’ll do and pay anything to stay safe. Fight or flight is a natural human instinct. We want to stay alive.

I’m not saying I’m denying my fight or flight instinct from now on, but I’m not going to live in fear, either. Yes, I don’t know what’s around the corner. It could be a hot guy or it could be a rabid goat. I’m not going hide anymore, certain it’s the latter. It could be the former, too, and when it comes down to it, I won’t give up a chance at happiness in exchange for a guarantee of security. There’s no such thing as a guarantee of anything.

Phil Keoghan, the host of “The Amazing Race”, wrote a book called N.O.W.: No Opportunity Wasted. It’s an excellent read if you get a chance, and now that my life has changed direction, it’s something I refer to regularly. I need to stop being afraid and embrace the possibility that the next opportunity could make me deliriously happy. Or I could fall flat on my face, but even if I fail, I’ll learn from the experience of getting up again, and not making that mistake again. I just have to stop being afraid of failing and falling. (Interesting how those two works look so alike.)

So, while at the moment it feels like bravado, I’m ready to start the New Year. No resolutions; just the hope that this time, I’ll do better in all my endeavors.

I wish the same for you. Blessed, healthy, and prosperous 2012 to you!!

Auld Lang Syne

This is the time of year I’m most prone to melancholy thinking about the people who can’t be with us. It often makes me wonder what they’re thinking. Are they screaming in frustration with the way I live my life, or do they stand there, silently crying with pride. I prefer to think it’s the latter, but I won’t know for sure. I can only hope, and try to feel the vibrations they’re sending out from wherever they are.

The radio station has been playing Christmas music since some time in November, but for the last two days, I’ve put that station on and let it play. Normally I put on the iPod and let life go on as usual, but not yesterday and not today. It’s kinda nice, swimming in the Christmas spirit. And not drowning in it.

This morning they played some of Alex’s favorite Christmas songs (really, they all are his favorites) so I’d call up to him to put on the radio. At one point they played Jose Feliciano’s “Feliz Navidad”, and it made me smile, thinking of my ex mother in law. That was one of her favorites. We didn’t always get along. Sometimes we were downright nasty to each other, but she loved the boys like they were her own kids. We got along better after I divorced her son (well, after that fight in Newark Airport), and at times I find myself missing her. It’s the first Christmas without her, and wherever she is, I hope she knows I’m thinking of her, and not in a bad way.

I’m also thinking of my grandparents, and their relationship, and how much I miss them. Just thinking of the moments we had together make me feel warm from the inside out. Grandpa singing “Moonlight Bay” and the time Nana held my hand when I fed her lunch, and knowing that despite her Alzheimers, she was still there on the inside.  

And Aunt Jeanne. I’m knitting a hat in the round, but I think this was her yarn. It’s going to someone I care about very much, who’s a terrific person (who I can’t name, or the surprise will be blown, though I doubt he reads my blog), so hopefully the connection comes full circle like my knitting needles.

Oma and Opa. We didn’t have a lot of time together, but the time we did have together was precious. Every time I’m driving and someone ahead of me is going slow, and I say out loud, “If you go any slower, you’ll be in reverse,” I think of Opa and the time he said that to me. Don’t worry, I do remember it fondly. And if I’d known Oma could knit, we’d have spent hours together, stitching to our heart’s content. I bet she could’ve taught me a lot.

This time of year, it’s a good time to reach out to the people who matter to you and bring them close. Like Grandpa always used to say at the end of his annual reunions (which we haven’t had since he passed, and I bet that makes him sad), “You never know when it’ll be the last time.” We laughed about that for 13 years, ’til the last time happened.

Just remember that Christmas isn’t all about what you give someone, but the memories you make with them. Things break, get lost, or get thrown away, but the memories will stay with you and them, always.

Healthy and Happy Christmas to all!