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. 🙂



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.


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. 🙂