Some Progress...

Amidst all the ridiculous laundry drama, I managed to get some writing done yesterday. I went through all of my notes, my many pages of scribbles, notated napkins and sticky pads. They are now organized in a leather binder and I have officially begun my journey.

While trying to get a true feel for my main character I decided that the page of notes and the character description sheet just weren't enough. She felt incomplete, I just couldn't get inside her skin, her mind enough. I sat down an wrote a three page character biography for her, ending just when the novel should begin. I understand her more now and her personality and motivations are a bit clearer to me.

Maybe next week I can actually make myself get started. I need to decide how to motivate myself, how many words per day my goal should be, and how to FOCUS. I keep reading that your first draft, especically of your first attempt, is usually utter and complete crap. I need to accept that I will not be writing Shakespeare, I am not a literary genius. I am just an out of practice wanna-be writer with an idea who was told that she had some talent once upon a time. I just need to get it all out on paper (or screen as it is now) and go from there. Edits and rewrites are not worries now, STOP MAKING EXCUSES AND JUST DO IT!

Maybe starting Tuesday...

Launrdy Day From Hell...Part Deux

Today I was supposed to spend all morning getting serious about organizing my novel notes and setting some goals. It was penciled in my calendar. My notes were waiting in a discombobulated pile on my desk. I had read more "how to get started" chapters in three of my writing manuals. Then it struck again...

...The Washing Machine From Hell.

I was staying home to write, so I could sneak a quick load or two in between segments, right? Wrong. Very, very wrong. The damn thing is broken, again. So all my creative strength was then channeled into keeping myself from taking a golf club to that possessed piece of crap. Then I had to call the company and manage to keep the swearing in check and the tears of frustration from streaming.

Do not by a Maytag. Ever. The cute little commercial about the bored Maytag repair man is a colicky crock of horse manure.

I spent a lovely--no livid--morning at a laundromat. If I had been a bit less angry and unfocused I could have used the place as a character study. I finally found a vacant chair, popped in my ear buds in an attempt to have Jack Johnson soothe my seething temper, and opened my book to pass the time. But I couldn't help looking around--between the screaming kids and worries that someone would steal my clothes I couldn't concentrate. I noticed that no one else was even attempting to entertain themselves. They sat quietly watching their clothes turn round in their driers, paced the narrow corridor between the noisy washers, or just stared vacantly out the window. What were they all thinking about? Jobs? Lovers? Kids? Dust bunnies? Quantum physics?

More drama was still to follow... Wednesday afternoons are usually spent at the playground around here. School gets out early and the Kiddo has an extra hour of energy to expend. Since it was a bit chilly today (even here in the Sun Belt) the pickings for playmates was pretty slim. There was only one other boy there and Kiddo waltzed right up to this little giant (even thought he was a foot taller and twice his weight) and asked him to play. Great, lovely, I can once again try to read and decompress while I keep an eye on him. Then this big kid starts hurling rocks at the squirrels. Big rocks. And he had quite an accurate arm. I yelled for Kiddo to get over here and stood up staring in disbelief as the little giant's mother just watched while she yakked at an obnoxious level on her cell. Kiddo went back and told him to stop, he was being mean. He laughed and grabbed a bigger stick. The mother just watched. I HATE confrontations, and truly had my fill this morning. Not in the mood to go head to head with this oblivious mother. Kiddo and I left after we told the little giant to cut it out. First squirrels, then dogs, then people... I expect to see that kids mug shot in the paper in a few years...

I need to get rid of all this negativity swirling around me...think of some GOOD things from the last few days....hmmm...I found not one but 2 new bathing suits before spring break, an awe-inspiring accomplishment...I found fun little V-day gifts the Hubby and Kiddo will love when they open them Sunday...my taxes are done and the refund is one the way through cyberspace...and oh, I hear my amazing Hubby pouring me a glass of wine as I type...how did I get so lucky...

It's off to fold (and read) I go...

Today is officially Laundry Day From Hell. Yes, I know, no one LIKES doing laundry (except perhaps my Mom, but she has some very peculiar hobbies), but attempting to catch up from a week away followed by a week of a broken washer is just unbearable. And the washer is less than a month old. And it was delivered 6 weeks late. I am beginning to believe it is inhabited by a wicked sprite and we are not going to have a very agreeable working relationship.

I know some moms only do laundry once a week. I know some single guys are lucky if they remember once a month when the closet is completely empty (you can only turn those boxers inside out so many times). I cannot imagine forcing myself to endure one entire day of sorting and folding all day long each and every week. I think I would have to call in sick that day. Or run away from home. My theory is that laundry is a bit like cough syrup. You don't really like it, but it is sometimes necessary in small doses and if you take too much at once you will end up hallucinating or in the loony bin. A much better system for me is one simple load a day. No sorting, no stressing, just dump all the dirty in together sometime during the morning, remember to switch it into the dryer around lunchtime, then the dreaded folding and putting away late afternoon. And usually I treat myself to a few minutes of what I actually want to watch on the telly while I fold--Sponge Bob is silenced while I bliss out to a few minutes of HGTV or Food Network. Everyone has to leave me alone. Then it's done--no big deal--and the Hubby thinks I am a Domestic Goddess.

But today I have two weeks worth of smelliness and funk to deal with. I haven't even figured out how many loads--I think if I put a number on the madness I will cry. I will deserve vast quantities of wine and chocolate this evening.

On a completely different topic, I am still trying not to be frustrated by the whole concept of blogging. The Hubby still thinks that all I have to do is post consistently to my blog and tens of thousands of fans will find it and read it and we will be making a fortune within a few months time. Huh? Another friend thinks I should concentrate on making my blog marketable and not worry about writing my novel. Double huh? I see this solely as a way for me to force myself to write, to bring my writing skills out of hibernation, and frankly, to mouth off about whatever I want. No one has to like it. If they do, wonderful. But this is for me.

I posted a few weeks ago about how I can never remember what I have read. I had another unfortunate example of this Sunday morning, on such a scale that I wonder if I should be tested for early-onset Alzheimers or perhaps I am suffering from the long-term effects of having a bit too much fun in college. I thought I finished a book Saturday night and started reading a new one Sunday morning. I was about 20 pages into Elizabeth Kostova's The Swan Thieves when the talk about psychiatry caused me to ponder if one of the characters in Marian Keyes' Brightest Star in the Sky had managed to drive her bike into a car after all...wait...did she...? Oh, damn! I never finished the book! I know I was distracted by the Munchkin's unrelenting commentary as we were watching a Star Wars film fest, but come on.... How embarrassing.

I was very diligent last month and managed to keep a running list of all I read. Here it is...

January 2010 Booklist
Kristen Harmel, The Art of French Kissing
Douglas Preston, Impact
Whitney Gaskell, Good Luck
Audrey Niffengger, Her Fearful Symmetry
Charlane Harris, A Touch of Dead
The Gourmet Cookbook (yes, I read it cover to cover)
Steve Berry, The Paris Vendetta
Lolly Winston, Good Grief
Stuart Woods, Kisser

Agh, the damn dryer is screaming for me...Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to fold I go...

Weighing in on Weighty Issues

There has been a disturbing amount of talk over the last few days about Michelle Obama’s comments regarding her daughters' weight. These articles are truly beginning to frighten me as it seems everyone is more concerned with her political correctness than the message.

The "how dare she" outcry is grating my few remaining nerves. She did not get up on a stage and call her daughters "fat" as so many over- zealous commentators from the bulimia brigade are claiming. Are we Americans so utterly lacking in self-esteem and proud of our nutritional ignorance that we must automatically assume that anyone who is told their dietary choices may not be perfect is guaranteed a life full of eating disorders?

It seems Sasha and Malia's pediatrician "was concerned that something was getting off balance.” Now, I think those are the words of a responsible doctor looking out for the health and welfare of his patients. I don't see him forcing those girls to start sticking their fingers down their throats.

Let's face it. Kids love junk food. Adults love junk food. And most people would rather sit down with a bag of Doritos than a plate of baby carrots any day. How often do we pick something up at the drive-thru because it's easier or cheaper or we just don't have the time to make a real meal while we are so on the go and it's just so much easier than another debate with a 4-year-old about the benefits of eating their green beans. Oh wait, now we can go out and order those green beans fried---perhaps a few more people will consider that a healthy serving of green vegetables.

So, were the First Daughters handed a Slim-Fast and marched off to some Biggest Looser-Style Boot Camp? No. The family made some simple changes. They ate fewer burgers. Water and apple slices were sent in their lunch boxes instead of sugary drinks and chips. More veggies were served at dinner, and oh, the kicker, they put grapes on the breakfast table. Seriously? People are outraged over this? People need to get their heads out of the bottom of their chip bags and get a grip. These are not elements of a "diet." They are small dietary changes that every household should be making, lifestyle choices that don't necessarily even have to do with weight and body image, but HEALTH. My kiddo gets apples in his lunch every single day. I am certainly not trying to get him to lose weight, he is skinny as a rail. Oh, wait, maybe the fact that he has grown up eating fruits for snacks instead of chips may be a contributing factor. And he is healthy, which is my primary concern. According to the CDC, childhood obesity has more than tripled in the past 30 years and nearly 20% of kids 6 to 11 are obese. Am I the only person that finds this disturbing? It's not their jean size that I care about. These kids are not getting a fair chance of a healthy life. And we as parents are responsible.

Apparently, 68 percent of U.S. adults are considered overweight and a third are obese. I have had a horrible week dealing with some of the consequences of an unhealthy diet and lifestyle. I have been trying to cope with the loss of a loved one who was repeatedly told by his doctors to lose some weight, stop eating so much sodium and fat, and get some exercise. My hubby and I have been trying for years to get some family members to understand that they do not need to diet, they just need to make healthier choices. But to them it is all or nothing. You either eat prime rib washed down with half a cheesecake for dinner every night or boiled egg whites. We have several other family members who seem to be boasting about their growing waistlines, and I am fearful that we are going to be repeating this grievous situation again and again. And they are passing these habits along to their kids, which is utterly unfair to them. It does not have to be this way. Honestly, I don't care how they look in a bathing suit. It's not about appearance. I want them to lead long and healthy lives, free from high blood pressure, diabetes, and heart disease.

I am also quite fed up with people saying I don't understand because I am skinny. And usually "skinny" is said with an audible sneer as if I have some kind of wasting disease they don't want to catch. I was lucky enough to be raised with good eating habits. Growing up we didn't eat fast food. We had balanced, low-fat meals. Chips were a treat saved for company and the only time I ever had a soda was when I went to the movies--and even then it was a diet. Sure, I was jealous that my friends always had an unlimited supply of Oreos while mine were carefully rationed in zip-lock bags. And yes, when I escaped to college I temporarily went on a junk food binge because I never was able to eat Fruit Loops for breakfast before. But then I grew up and realized that maybe Mom was right all along.

And I understand genetics can be a bitch. My husband has high blood pressure and cholesterol even though he is thin and fit, so we must pay attention to what he eats to combat those nasty numbers and keep them under control. My In-Laws sometimes treat me like a pariah for causing my family great suffering because I don't always have bags of Lays lining my pantry nor do I feed them real bacon for breakfast each day. Every time I must calmly chant to them, "I feed my hubby well because I actually like him and I plan on keeping him around for a few years. We don't have enough life insurance for me to feed him crap." They still don't get it.

Every child should have the chance to lead a long and healthy life. As parents it is our responsibility provide them with nutritious foods and to teach them them how to make the beneficial dietary choices that will be the basis for what they eat for the rest of their lives. Teaching a child that carrots are a better snack than Cheetos should not send them on the path to an eating disorder, but instead provide them with the habits to maintain a healthy body and mind. I applaud Ms. Obama for speaking out on a subject that too many of us are too scared or too lazy to bother ourselves with. It takes a strong mother to admit she may may not be a perfect parent in a normal life--to admit it on the National stage takes guts I can't imagine. We all need to step up to the plate and follow her example. Our children deserve it.