Was it something I said?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My oldest son had a field trip this week to the Public Library.  As a huge proponent of reading, you would think this is a place that I frequently take my children.  Uh…no!  In fact they have never visited a library beyond the perimeters of school.  Of course, with a house overflowing with books and a Kindle practically glued to my fingertips, it seemed strange to my six year old.  When he asked why, I told him the truth.  

See, I’m not a huge fan of borrowing books that countless others have read before me.  YUCK!  I eat when I read.  Usually cookies or candy.  I don’t even want to imagine what has touched the pages of borrowed books. Insert your imagination here and you might share my sentiments.  Hence, we prowl bookstores.  When it’s time to purchase I always grab the book in the back of the rack…hoping that it hasn’t been touched a gazillion times.  Now this attitude might not be normal.  I’m not sure.  But I am sure it’s going to be real hard for me to start checking out library books on a regular basis.  (NOT FOR ME…But the boys are already itching to go back and I can’t in good conscience say no).  ICKY!

My second transgression of the week was rather amusing (at least to me).  A piece of mail arrived on Tuesday from the Wall Street Journal addressed to my five year old.  He opened it, pulled out a pen and began writing different messages all over the solicitation.  When he was satisfied, he grabbed the return envelope; stuffed his response inside and sealed it tight with blue painter’s tape.  My six year old pulled me aside and gently asked what I was going to do with it.  As soon as I said I was going to pop it in the mail, his eyes bulged out of their sockets.  Clearly he was uncomfortable with the notion of the WSJ receiving a written response from his five year old brother.  I figure if they sent it to him they should be happy with whatever he has to say!!!!   And, yes I am mailing it back to them.

Perhaps my biggest booboo happened yesterday.  Walking through the parking lot of school a little friend of the family (that carpools with us occassionally) spotted a big old worm.  As I deftly stepped around it she reached down and grabbed hold of its wiggly body.  I think I gasped.  It was gross.  Really, really gross.  When we reached the car I asked her to hold on before hopping in….giving me time to grab germ buster.  Yes, I made her clean her hands before buckling up.  Her reaction?  Gee whiz it’s only a worm.   She was right.  But so was I.  At least I think so.

Today I’m thinking about slapping a few strips of tape across my mouth.  Without a dobut the family would appreciate a little break from the reality that is their mother.

Anything but ordinary…

Every year as I slather on sunscreen, grab canvas lawn chairs, and head to the local parade with my family I try to remember the true meaning of this day.  It is a day of remembrance, of honor, and pure appreciation.  Without fail, certain songs always come to mind when I think of wars past and present.   John McDermott (a personal favorite) has some lovely songs including his interpretation of Eric Bogle’s Waltzing Mathilda.  I’ll leave you with a few verses. 

(Excerpt:  And the Band Played Waltzing Mathilda  by Eric Bogle circa 1971)

So now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march
Renewing their dreams of past glory

I see the old men all tired, stiff and sore
The weary old heroes of a forgotten war
And the young people ask “What are they marching for?”
And I ask myself the same question

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
And the old men still answer the call
But year after year, the numbers get fewer
Some day none will march there at all

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong
Who’ll come a waltzing Matilda with me.

God Bless!

Confession # 101…

Sitting at a computer and attempting to write a story can be many things, but for the most part it’s not scary.  Intimidating, yes.  Scary, no.  At least that’s the view from my keyboard.

There are however many aspects of the industry that scare the beejeepers out of me.  Editors.  Reviewers.  Agents.  These individuals hold power which they can use for the purpose of good or evil (just kidding).  But seriously, it’s almost impossible not to hear horror stories about how cut-throat the publishing industry has become. 

I’ve said it before but it bears repeating….my personal experiences so far have been fantastic.  My editors, Tera (Samhain) and Stephanie (TWRP) were exceptionally patient, kind and knowledgeable.  Nothing SHREK like about either of them. 

Don’t get me started about how cool the reviewer that reached out to me was…thank you, Melissa.  Notice the trend?  I’ve been very lucky. 

Today, I had the chance to meet another amazing individual — Pam Hopkins from Hopkins Literary Associates.  During the past two years I’ve had the privilege of meeting a few literary agents.  While I thought they were professional, well informed and industrious — I never felt wowed.  This morning I had the WOW experience.  She was all the things you would hope for (professional, industrious, etc) and unbelievably down to earth.  Within ten minutes I knew that she would be my dream agent.  (The truth is landing an agent is just as hard as landing a publisher…maybe even harder).

Of course, now I want to write something worthy of submitting to her agency!!!!  Yeah, a new dream!

Feeling kind of squishy…

Tonight I’m feeling like a giant marshmallow.  Soft.  Gooey.  Lacking in substance and grace.  The good news is…this is not the result of consuming globs of chocolate in my bedroom closet.  Although, that would have been an excellent conjecture for those who know me well. 

Today I had one of those darn awful moments where I almost cried in public.  Wait it gets worse….at my children’s school.  Hmmm…in front of other parents.  And the sad part…it had nothing to do with my own kids. 

Kindergarten Orientation for my youngest took place this morning.  As the entire group gathered in one room to hear the agenda, I watched as my son quietly sat at a play table with several of his classmates.  He was happy.  I was happy.  He was relaxed.  I was sublime.  All was right with the world.  And then it wasn’t.  At the direction of the principal the parents began filing out of the classroom to a conference room down the hall.  I checked.  Then double-checked.  My son raised his hand in a half salute before returning his focus to the pile of dominoes lined up in front of him.  My departure was not inducing any emotional reaction.  THANK GOODNESS.  Two steps out the door I hear several children begin to weep, followed by quiet words.  Pleading words.  Don’t leave.  Just to make absolutely sure my kiddo was okey dokey I poked my head back around the corner.  Still fine, were we.  

But then the pressure behind my eyes began to build.  Crap-a-docious.  I was crying.  Weird.  As I marched quickly down the hall, I tried to explain.  In hindsight that was probably a mistake.  Cause really…there wasn’t a good excuse why I was the only one over the age of five struggling to find a tissue.

Guess who sat in the very last row?  I was taking no further chances.  I’m guessing this doesn’t bode well for the fall when kindergarten actually begins.

No retreat, baby, no surrender…

Despite profound effort, I often find myself in full pit bull mode when it comes to the media.  I’ve been known to shoot off letters, call General Managers, engage in never ending email exchanges when I feel basic standards of honesty are not being met. 

As I browsed through various websites this morning I discovered (not to my horror) that the highly exalted Maureen Dowd of the NY Times was caught lifting material.  Since I’ve never been a fan girl of Dowd, neither her writing nor her larger than life personality wowed me, I wasn’t crying in my coffee over her plight.  However, it did represent for me another large question mark about who we should trust when it comes to news gathering and news reporting. 

In a strange twist I found myself at odds with a local news station for a report they covered this morning.  After two cups of coffee and a bout of uncontrollable twitching I finally blasted off an email…asking for clarification.  Since I’ve engaged in philosophical debates with this particular news group in the past I was convinced I would receive the big ole brush off.  Well, color me shocked when they actually conceded the point that they were not fully versed on the topic and would therefore cover the issue again tomorrow.  So, I’m tipping my hat to those folks at Channel 13 who didn’t nail the story the first time but are willing to do their homework and revisit it.

As Springsteen would say…no retreat, baby, no surrender.

We Remember…We Celebrate…We Believe

Armed Forces Day

Celebrated on:  Third Saturday in May (which would be May 16, 2009)

Today is a day to honor and salute the men and women in all branches of the service who protect our country.  As you know these individuals may be called upon at a moment’s notice to perform risky, often perilous missions in an effort to safeguard our freedom.

Background:  Historically each branch of the military had their own day of celebration. But, on August 31, 1949 then Secretary of Defense Louis Johnson announced the creation of Armed Forces Day.

All branches of the military were asked to celebrate on this day and they complied on the first Armed Forces Day which was held the following year on May 20, 1950

Sending out a huge thank you, as well as a prayer of safety for all those serving in the United States Army, Navy, Marines, Air Force, and Coast Guard.

Friday on my Mind…

It’s been a fabu week here at Casa de Oberlies.  I love it when the weather is nice enough for us to play outdoors and this was a week where we took full advantage of the bright sunshine coupled with cool lake front breezes.  

Thumbs Up:  I received a wonderful email from a prominent review site member.  The individual took the time to say that she loved both of my books and was actually wondering about upcoming stories.  Seriously, these are the moments that etch a permanent smile on your face.  This wasn’t part of a review just a kind note…it really doesn’t get any better than that. 

Thumbs Down:  Ugh…Celtics…Bruins…Red Sox.  Last night we hit the trifecta.  All three of my hometown teams took one on the chin.  Sadly, for the Bruins and the Celtics it signified the end of the season.   The tears and beers will be flowing freely in Boston today. 

Thumbs Up:  Started the week off by attending a local AAA minor league baseball game.  I’m a bit of a fan freak when it comes to baseball.  Anyway, tonight I will be wrapping the kids and hubby up in extra layers to catch another Red Wings game.  By the time the fireworks begin (at the end of the game) a few of my friends will undoubtedly be sleeping (hubby and youngest son have a difficult time lasting a full nine innings).  The best part….this is my anniversary.  I can’t think of a better way to celebrate!  And, yes I’m being completely sincere, which horrifies my mother-in-law. 

Thumbs Up:  Spent a night out this week at the Lilac Festival.  The area where I reside is considered the Lilac Capital of the World and for ten days each May a huge festival celebrates the lilacs in bloom.  Food.  Music.  Games.  Pony Rides.  Oh, and did I mention fudge (yep, a delectable booth where they sell Penuci Fudge along with dozens of other flavors). 

Thumbs Up:  A local billionaire here in Western New York has decided to legally change his residency to Florida.  A huge philanthropist, he feels the more than 13,000 dollars/day he pays in NY State taxes could be better spent elsewhere.  This state is out-of-control and decisions such as this just might send a message to our politicians.  Fiscal responsibility is a must…or residents will be forced to relocate.

Sneaking out to water my newly planted azalea bushes.  We try, but gardening isn’t really our forte.  I’m keeping my fingers crossed that I don’t kill the darn things (at least before fall).

Visit Me Over at ….

Today I am blogging about the power of feedback over at my local writing group’s website.  If you get a chance stop by and say hello!

http://lilaccityrochesterwriters.blogspot.com/ 

Tell me why I don’t like….

Yes, I know, I’m a day late with the whole Mother’s Day greeting.  But here’s the thing…I’m not a big fan of the Hallmark hoopla surrounding this much celebrated day.  Who needs the enormous pressure of trying to come up with something original/special to honor the person that brought you into this world?  Seriously…I adore my mother with my whole heart, but I’m not foolish enough to think that there is anything I can or ever will do that adequately expresses my love for her.  I’m not sure picking up a card that someone else created is the best way for me to pay homage to her.  It may sound trite but I think we do better when we worry about how we treat our family 365 days of the year and not simply on one particular Sunday in May. 

Okay, now for a wee confession.  I had a FABULOUS Mother’s Day.  Mass followed by a fabulous brunch at a local country club and then the highlight….my son’s flag football game.  We stood around in the cold (low fifties) cheering a bunch of first graders on as they whipped around the field.  At this age it is only about fun — no heated competition.  After the game wrapped we hit the local ballpark for Triple AAA minor league baseball action with the Rochester Red Wings.  We scarfed down popcorn and fried dough, and watched our team score copious runs. P-E-R-F-E-C-T. 

By the time we returned home we were too tired for dinner.  Solution?  Chocolate cake and Panda Paws ice cream!  YUMMY!  Yep, I may not be a fan of Mother’s Day but I had a fabulous day anyway.

Gadget gal? NOT!

I’m not what anyone could consider a gadget gal.  Other than my Kindle I pretty much stay well out of the path of oncoming technology.  Case in point — my cell phone is about five years old.  It has virtually no bells and whistles.  Which suits me perfectly.  I’m keeping my fingers tightly crossed that the old thing hangs on for another several years.  One of my father’s favorite mantras when I was growing up was that “the more features something has, the more likely it will break, and the more it will cost for you to fix it”.  

The thing is — I live with the absolute KING of gadgets.  When a new product emerges he usually has it within the first few days.   Typically he upgrades everything within six months (not his wife, fortunately.  I’ve been with him a looooooong time). 

Where exactly am I going with this story?   I’m starting to notice a change in my behavior.  A change that has me nervous.  I’m starting to want the stuff he is bringing home.  This week he picked up a new mini-laptop at work.  It’s lovely.  Really fabulous.  And I want it.  From a cost standpoint this is not a good thing.  Many of his electronic goodies are work related, company supported.  Me — I have no excuse, not even a marginal one, to support my hunger for upgrades. 

In my heart I want to remain a throwback from past generations.  Now I just have to convince my brain to stop coveting my husband’s material possessions!