Calgon, take me awayyyy....

On Today's Menu
A Big Pot O' Goulash

First, I should say I don't like goulash. Life has been a pot o' goulash lately. Oh, I like life very much. It's just the mix that's getting on my nerves.

Nick Arrojo, where ARE you?? What was I thinking, going to a new stylist and getting a brand new do? I need you. I need your $200 haircut. Whisk me away to "What Not To Wear" and work your magic. (I'll even pay.) I feel like a shorn sheep with a puffy face. Hannah screamed Friday when I picked her up after volleyball practice. "Omigosh!"

"What?" I looked around.

"Your HAIR!"

I wanted to start crying again. The girl who cut Hannah's hair did an amazing job, so I picked up her card. Then this week I went in and had her cut mine. I guess she had a good day when she did Hannah's hair. OH, mine looks perky and I can get it to flip, but it won't stay that way. Forget the publicity photo shoot in Nashville at the writers' conference. By Christmas some of it should be grown out again. But now...I hate looking in the mirror, and I realize how vain I really am. For a "big" girl. (gulp)

Which brings me to another thing. CJ and I are starting Body for Life again on Monday. I'm so tired of looking big on the outside and feeling smaller inside. I haven't seen anyone treat me differently for being about a hundred pounds overweight, but maybe God's kept me blind to that. Society should know that fat people don't sit around eating donuts all the time, nor or they lazy or want to dress like old fuddy-duddies. I eat (relatively) healthy. I've worked a desk job for the past almost 10 years, and I can tell. I need to get moving. Eat smaller meals. Work my muscles. All of which Body For Life does. So maybe it's not the hair. It's my face. With longer hair, I didn't notice my "pooch" face as much. Now, well. I'm pushing 38 and working against gravity, too.

In about a month I'll be in Nashville at the American Christian Fiction Writers annual conference. I'm excited about seeing writing friends, hanging out, networking and brainstorming with other writers about some projects. Talking to some agents and editors, soaking in the classes. My novel is one of the top three finalists in the Noble Theme contest in the Sci/Fi Fantasy category. I'm excited about just making the top three. My pal Ronie made the top three in Sci/Fi Fantasy also, and some other writer friends finalled in other categories. We've already got a nail biters' table planned for Saturday lunch at the conference, when the winners are named.

Yet there's that carrot dangling in front of me to be the best. Not that I'm "better than everyone," but to continually improve at my craft and storytelling to be better than I am now. I'm never quite satisfied. (Okay, I may pat myself on the back on occasion, then pick up another author's book and go, "Wow, wish I'd written that!) And so it goes...

I told you this was a goulash! Which brings me to something else. One more, and I'm done. Writing isn't about me, it's about the story. Right now I'm trying to figure out what stories I'm supposed to tell. What's my tag line? I've written contemporary, historical, suspense, fantasy. Whichever work in progress I'm slaving over is my favorite story at that time. I never write a story I'm not passionate about. To me, the pages of a story should swallow you up and pull you on an adventure. Hence, "Adventures on Paper." I'm not nailed down to a particular genre (yet). Plus, I got some awesome business cards at VistaPrint, so I'm stuck with the tag for now.

Enough! I'm done for tonight. Through bad haircuts, poofy faces, writing stuff, and kids starting school, my Lord is on the throne yet still close enough to whisper in my ear. I like that!

Lotsa Life in these Minutes

Why is it that everything has to happen on a weekend? Oh, yes. I slap my forehead. Because we're working during the week. Tell me why we rented a floor sander from Home Depot on Saturday so we could sand Hannah's floor. This stuff is never as easy as it looks on those shows, even with their carefully-scripted crises. And what's more? Home Depot doesn't make their money off a $35-for-3-days rental. They make their money off the sandpaper at 5 bucks a sheet. Whew. Add grocery shopping to the mix, a run to our favorite clothes' store for the "no tax weekend" bunch of outfits for the kids, and three nights of special services at church starting Friday night.

I survived. The special services were just that--special. I've got a lot of notes to re-read and a lot of personal reflection and quiet time to absorb what the Lord is showing me. Maybe I'll share some of it here. We'll see. I've realized I've got a long way to go, that I could stand to have more compassion for people, and more of the Word in my life.

Tonight after service and ordering Pizza Hut, I've spent the past hour using the hand sander on the floor. I think I'm going to call it Hand Sander Pilates. My abs and back and legs, not to mention my tingling arms, are getting a workout. The big rental sander takes off just that--big stuff. Now we're going behind and babyin' that birch floor, and it's going to be gorgeous when it's finished (no pun intended). I know Hannah will be thrilled to have "her" room back again. I'll be thrilled when we're done.

Oh, to luxuriate in a regular work week. (I'll remember this when they're asking for their required two hours' overtime.)