Relationships – Waiting on a Word

When I Maybe Had a Sex Dream About The Rock . . .

First, a HELLO to everyone who ended up here as a result of googling any combination of “sex” and “The Rock.” I know it happens, as evidenced by a post I did called “Mommy Porn,” which remains one of my most viewed posts. I get the whole sex + The Rock thing, I do, and I don’t judge. You are welcome here at WOAW.

As the title of this post conveys, last night I had a dream. How about I lay it out for you?

THE SETTING:

Modern day, central New Jersey, a Clifford Red 2005 Honda Odyssey parked on a suburban street.

THE PLAYERS:

Jess . . .

Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson . . .

Looking dapper in his awesome show Ballers on HBO (Pic from: http://www.onlocationvacations.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/11/therockballers.jpg )

One four-foot long French Baguette . . .

Baguettes (Pic from: http://i.telegraph.co.uk/multimedia/archive/02600/CECPY7_2600591b.jpg )

THE SCENE:

Jess leans into the driver’s door of the minivan, as The Rock leans into the passenger side door. He’s holding an approximately four-foot long, French baguette, wrapped in one of those brown paper baguette bags. He’s trying to fit the baguette over the front seats into the sunglasses compartment on the dash.

Jess (looking over the seats to The Rock): Dude. What are you doing?

The Rock: What?

Jess: It’s not going to fit.

The Rock: No?

Jess: Put your baguette in the back.

And there you have it. That was the entire dream. I mean . . . I don’t know. Maybe my mind is in the gutter, but it may have been a sex dream. Please note: we were fully clothed the entire time, I had gone to Wegman’s that morning with my husband and we did buy baguettes, and because I anticipate that your curious minds want to know, I did not see if The Rock put his baguette in the back.

I’d like to point out for the record the following, which may or may not sway your thoughts:

My friend Angela and I both love The Rock and have decided we will drop everything to work on his presidential campaign. No, he’s not running in 2016, but someday we can envision this happening. We don’t even care what party he runs for because if anyone can unite the bipartisan system, it’s The Rock.
If I were in close proximity to The Rock, I would not take him food shopping. I’d add something sassy here, such as “we’d find other fun things to do, wink wink,” but in reality if The Rock visited my house, I’m fairly certain my husband would swoop in and spend the day talking with him about workouts and diets (meh).
However, if we did go food shopping I just don’t think The Rock would buy a four-foot long baguette. You know, carbs? Since I stalk him on Instagram I’m aware he enjoys a splurge once in awhile, but he’s a damn healthy dude (obviously). I’m thinking we’d buy cod and protein-laden stuff. I picture myself trying to sneak Pringles into the basket and him giving me the eyebrow and tsking at me.
Further, I would not subject The Rock to the Jalopy minivan, which has no air conditioning and requires duct tape to keep one of the sliding doors closed (on occasion). If we had to go food shopping, I would insist we take his fancy truck (I’ve seen it on Instagram). All the baguettes in the world can fit in the back of that thing.
I did say “Dude” in my dream, which I never say in real life.
I have been writing a lot of romance lately, none involving putting anything in the back of anything. Still, had I slept a bit sounder maybe this dream would have led to a romantic picnic with The Rock, including bread, cod, and whatever else The Rock “is cooking.” Stranger things have happened (haven’t they?).

I’d put a poll in here but that may be too weird, even for me. Still, I’d love to hear your thoughts. What’s up with this dream?

As always, thank you for accommodating my crazy. I hope you have a great day.

Pour Some Sugar

On the way to work today, Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me” played on the radio. That song always jets me back to high school at warp speed.

I sang along in the van. “Love is like a bomb, baby, c’mon get it on. Living like a lover with a red owwf on.”

Wait. What exactly is a “red owwf”? I never knew that line. Not in 1989 and still not in 2014.

In fact, I distinctly remember a late-eighties conversation with a girl named Leanne. Leanne was a classmate and fellow Def Leppard fan (we’d been to numerous DL concerts), who (hide your eyes, Mom) cut school with me one day to go to the beach. We sat on the beach, tanning, talking, and discussing that line for a nice chunk of time.

“Maybe it’s ‘red outfit on’?”
“But there aren’t enough syllables. Maybe it’s not red at all?”
“Like ‘real loaf on'”
“Yeah!”
(Break into fit of giggles)

Every time I hear the song, I think of Leanne. Eventually, we accepted that a “red owwf” was either something British or we just didn’t have the ears to hear it right.

Today as I sipped my morning coffee at my desk, I googled the line. According to azlyrics, the lyric is “Living like a lover with a radar phone.”

Of course, this begs the question: What on God’s green earth is a “radar phone” AND WHERE CAN I GET ONE?

Back in the old days, I’d get so mad when albums didn’t include lyrics. I’d camp on the floor with my ear to the speaker and hit rewind, stop, play, rewind, stop, play over and over on my cassette tape deck to figure out one measly word from a song. Sounds silly, but sometimes one word can make or break a song, especially to an emotional teenager. (Ready for your irrelevantly relevant factoid of the day? Case in point: Modern English’s “I’ll Stop the World and Melt With You” (1983-ish). My friend and I insisted that somewhere in the song the chorus changed to “I’ll Stop the World and Melt For You,” which totally changes the entire song. Melting “with” someone is different than melting “for” someone, right? A quick azlyrics search doesn’t reveal any secret switchover from the nice-I-want-to-date-you-and-love-you “with” to the wow-he-wants-to-like-MELT-for her “for.”)

When I got my hands on Journey’s Escape album, circa 1981, I was thrilled to find the lyrics inside. I copied the lyrics to every song, by hand, onto looseleaf for a friend. He was so happy when I gave it to him, even though Journey’s songs were relatively clear and easy to decipher. After all, I’d saved him hours of strenuous listening to figure out the words. Now he could read along without lyrics stress.

Remember when Michael Jackson’s “Billie Jean” was a topic of conversation? “But the chair is not my size.” “NO! It’s but the kid is not my son!”

Or The Police? “We are Cheerios, in a cereal bowl.” “Duh! It’s SPIRITS. We are SPIRITS in the MATERIAL WORLD.” “But what does that mean?” “Who cares? It has a good beat and you can dance to it!”

During that “Billie Jean” era, a girl named Kathy lived a few houses down the street from me. Kathy knew everything. EVERYTHING about Adam Ant (Perhaps you remember “Goody Two Shoes”? “Don’t drink don’t smoke. What do you do?”). She loved him more than life itself, which even back in the 80’s was ridiculously weird. Whenever we had a question about anything Ant-related, someone would say, “Let’s go ask Kathy.” We’d trek to her house on our bikes and bang on her door, ask our question, maybe debate a little. Kathy was our Adam Ant Wiki. The best part would be when debating turned into either, “You’re a reject!” with stomping and yelling and riding away, or “Let’s play Payday,” and we’d move on to something else.

But rounding the corner to my point (it’s here somewhere), the mystery of the lyric is now over. I wonder if I’ll still automatically sing “red owwf on” when I hear the Def Leppard song or if I’ll convert to “radar phone.” (I really NEED one of those, people!)

I miss wondering about lyrics, and miss wondering in general. Something positive must have developed from all that wondering we did with our friends on the street. Today, all debatable questions are answered in light speed with a Google search. What do kids even talk about these days?

All these memories from a Def Leppard song on the way to work! Who knew it would turn into a writing prompt!?

Have a nice night. Thanks for reading. I’m going to go Google “radar phone” now.

I’m Back from NaNoMehMo . . .

Winning starts with beginning. — Robert H. Schuller

Well, it’s December! Currently I’m sitting next to a halfway decorated Christmas tree and a half-asleep husband, during halftime of the Giants-Redskins game. And guess what? I won at NaNoWriMo. Not only did I win, I over-won by 10,000 words.

So why am I only halfway excited?

First, let me do some bragging with a graphic from the NaNo site . . .

Yay, right?

I know I should be super proud and excited about this. Technically, I won, but I don’t feel like a winner. As I thought about drafting this post, I looked for some inspirational “winning” quotes and found none that really fit how I feel. I settled on the quote above: Winning starts with beginning.

I definitely started, but there’s so much more work to do. I didn’t finish my story. I’ll probably finish by 70,000 words. I’m at 61,000 and change. So many of my already written words need to be improved. To me this is more daunting than banging out the 50K words for NaNo month. The word count was the easy part for me, because I enjoy writing. Like if someone told me I had to eat ice cream after dinner every day for a month. No problem. In that regard, I didn’t really understand some of the NaNoBitching that went on– the “I-can’t-wait-until-December” gripes. Don’t we do NaNo because we love to write? It didn’t seem like a chore to me, even with my limited time and fried mommy brains.

Will I try National Novel Writing Month again? Definitely. Why not? I’m writing anyway. Having the month deadline forced me to organize and plan and gave me a valid reason to write besides my, “I like it,” reason. How many times this past month have I said, “I’m trying to make my word count,” as if it’s a job, not a hobby? I liked that aspect of it. I also enjoyed the NaNo website, including the little charts and stats showing your progress, the forums and “pep talks,” etc.

Anyway, the best thing that came out of November was not my crappy 90% finished novel. The best thing is that I reconnected with one of my favorite people in the world, Shaunna. Shaunna and I lived together for a year or so about fifteen years ago. We’ve since drifted, due to families and life and physical distance, but she’s been a big supporter of my blog (she guest posted here) and when she found out I was doing NaNo, she decided to give it a go, too. During the month, we shared some of our words. In fact, she’s the only person I shared with, besides the first line I revealed in a previous post. Shaunna’s kind words about my stuff kept me going. We also used the month to catch up on our lives and I realized we still have similar thoughts and feelings and ideas on a bunch of things. Chatting with her this month, reading portions of her novel, reconnecting with her through NaNo, reminded me of all the reasons why I love her and why she’s so special. I’m not going to let her drift away again.

I also realized that I love and missed my blog here. My Reader and all your awesome posts tempted my procrastination tendencies. So many great Daily Prompts and writing challenges teased me this month, begging to distract me from my writing goal. I held strong through November, but now I’m back. Let the distractions begin!

Thanks for tolerating my first post-NaNo post. My blogging fingers are still warming up. I hope you all had a great November.

Have a nice night!

Pickles, Pretzels and Piffle

Hi Everyone! Still NaNo-ing. Ugh! In the meantime, here’s a post from my Mom about her adventures with my nephew. She’s a new blogger so show her some love ! 🙂

Blue Stocking G'ma

I had the distinct pleasure of spending the night with my 3 year old grandson this week. I have not done this before and did not know what to expect. We decided to “camp out”. That’s where you pull out the sofa bed in the living room and sleep there instead of in your bed in your room. It seems he and Daddy do this on occassion and it’s fun.

E. loves to play Cut the Rope on my ipad, so that’s what we decided we would do. He is amazingly good at this game for a kid his age and is very excited when the frog finally gets the candy. If he has trouble with a particular level he hands it to me and says,”Here Grandma. Tell me when you get it” and he goes off to do something else while I struggle with the game. When I failed…

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Dad’s “Magic”- A Guest Post by Linda (My Mom)

Hi Everyone! I’m still busy NaNo-ing. So far I’m doing well and I’m on track to finish. “Embracing the suck,” as they say. In the meantime, WOAW keeps chugging along with a guest post by my mother, Linda. You may recall that I wrote this post about my grandfather, my Gido. That’s my mom’s dad. My mom shares some memories below about her dad, my Gido. Enjoy!

Some of my earliest and fondest memories of my Dad relate to food. I remember him standing at the stove stirring and flipping and I remember how much I wanted to do that too! (Remember, I was very young). It was like magic. One thing would go into the pot and something totally different and absolutely amazing would emerge. I especially loved Dad’s magic. Grandma was a great cook, but Dad was MAGIC!

He would go to the stove and turn on the burner and ask if I was hungry. I would tell him no, but he would go into the fridge and route around and bring out all sorts of leftovers. I watched, fascinated as he melted butter in the pan. Then a slice of three-day-old bologna. Sizzle, sizzle, flip then salt, always salt (I know, I know), followed by leftover mashed potatoes. Finished it off with two pancakes from Sunday’s breakfast et voila! A Daddy Sandwich.

I’d look on, horrified! YIKES! Who’d eat that? He’d set a plate down and gingerly placed the “sandwich” upon it. Then he made elaborate work of cutting it into quarters. Satisfied with his presentation, he’d cut a wedge and put it to his lips.

At this juncture, I’d pipe up, “Hey Dad, maybe I could have a taste?”

“You sure?” he’d ask.

“Yes,” I’d reply.

So I’d take a taste (Lord help me). Then another. That’s when I would sit down, eat the whole thing, and send Dad packing back to the stove to make another for himself.

Dramatic pause as I eat and he cooks…

Enter my Little Sister and the scene begins again. She, however, is not impressed with the offering, and being six years my junior (plus being spoiled rotten) demanded another snack all together. So Dad, in his infinite patience (how hard could it be for a guy with three jobs to raise two little girls as a single parent?) asked her what she wanted. She, being spoiled and all, wanted everything we didn’t have.

So Dad worked his “magic.”

He pulled out a large loaf of Pita bread and sliced it open all the way around until it laid flat like two circles. He took butter and slathered it over both sides. When my sister asked where the ham was, Dad said this was a “Magic Daddy Sandwich” and the ham was invisible. Being young (and, may I add, not too bright) she bought that and was silenced.

The magic continued.

He reached for the sugar bowl, and here’s where he set the hook — he sprinkled sugar all over the buttered pita!

What? Sugar? On purpose?

But then came the best idea ever. Cinnamon. All over the top. WOW! He then put the two sides together, cut it into quarters, and there it was. Another Magic Daddy Sandwich.

Suddenly I remembered my lovely mashed potato, bologna and pancake delight and wondered why I had not held out for the good stuff. He always liked her best (not really…well, maybe).

But then I reallized something. She had the sugar, I had the mashed potato and bologna, but Dad had NADA. He watched us eat, ate whatever scraps we left on our plates, cleaned up the kitchen and went to watch television. That was Dad. He got us to eat, showed us you could make something from anything, and went about his evening.

I enjoyed many a meal at Dad’s magic hand.

As time went on I got married, had kids and cooked my own meals. I made Lazy Housewife’s French Toast (just regular toast with butter, cinnamon and sugar). Sound familiar? I made grilled PB&J. I made elaborate lasagnas. I made ordinary, run-of-the-mill pork chops.

But when Dad came to dinner at my house, things were different. No cooked onions, only raw. Have you ever tried making ANYTHING without onion? He would find any trace and pick them out and put them at the edge of his plate for me to see.. OH, the guilt! No beef. Dad was not a fan. Thought it had too much fat. Only real butter. No margarine. That would be un-American! He had simple tastes, which resulted in his being a picky eater. So when Gido (that’s what my kids called him) came for dinner, it was pasta, a chicken cutlet pounded paper thin, or soup. For dessert there would be lemon meringue pie and coffee.

But as “Dad” aged and became pickier, “Gido” showed up at my house with “Gido food” and my kids loved the fare he brought. He would arrive with two dozen loaves of fresh Pita bread still warm from the bakery. My kids still call it “Gido bread.” Also, a large bag of JAX (cheese doodles by an assumed name) and two cases of small plastic bottles filled with various flavors of sugary drink (predecessors to the juice box). Mine were the only kids on the block to have not only a “Gido,” but all the snacks that came along with him. All very cool and very “Gido.” “Gido food” was very different from “Dad food,” I’d noticed. No pancakes and mashed potatoes for these kids!

But the “Gido food” that has stayed with this family of mine throughout generations is the watermelon. Most kids get a bang out of spitting the seeds and seeing how far they’ll go. Not my kids. As far as they are concerned watermelon has no seeds…never has…never will. Before the advent of the seedless watermelon ours had no seeds. Why? Because Gido sat down and removed every single, solitary one before we ever got a taste. He would sit for hours slicing and picking out seeds with the tip of his knife. He considered them a choking hazard. (I think I mentioned his patience before). He did it for my sister and me and he did it for my kids but guess what? He’d set the bar high. Now I got to sit picking out seeds with the tip of my knife for hours at a time because my kids would only eat watermelon without seeds. Soon the phenomenon extended to my husband and close friends. Nobody who ate watermelon at my house expected, nor would they tolerate, seeds. They pointed them out with annoyance if one should slip by my scrutiny and my knife. Thank you Mr. Farm Person who invented seedless watermelon, but it didn’t work. They don’t like the little white ones either!

In addition to the many legacies left by my father, we have “Gido bread,” watermelon without seeds, and the ability to make a meal out of absolutely anything in a fridge. Thanks Dad!

Thanks, Mom for your lovely contribution! If anyone would like to post here, shoot me an email! I’m trying to fill up November while I NaNo. Thanks for reading and have a nice night! (By the way, watermelon comes with seeds?? The horror! I still love a piece of pita with cinnamon, sugar, and butter, and those little plastic sugar water drinks were AWE-SOME. Especially the purple ones.)

Weekend Chatter

Happy Sunday Everyone!

I type this post while watching the second quarter of the Cowboys-Giants game (DVR’ing Breaking Bad– decisions, decisions). I love watching a good football game, especially when it’s not a Jets game. My poor husband, a lifelong Jets fan, suffers season after season watching the Jets. Sometimes there’s cursing and yelling involved. Even though the Jets won today, we know better than to get our hopes up. Anyway, football is so much more fun when your team isn’t playing.

Ouch! Romo just went down and is being helped off the field, meanwhile, the camera shows the Cowboys owner, Jerry Jones, sitting next to New Jersey’s very own Chris Christie. New Jersey is everywhere, people! But I digress . . .

This weekend, a few fun things happened (besides our first NFL Sunday and a Jets win). Fun Thing Number One is that yesterday an idea I submitted to The Daily Post for a Daily Prompt was used! The prompt was to name a luxury you can’t live without. You can see the post here. I was thinking about my cleaning lady when I came up with the idea. I also thought about Spaceballs when Princess Vespa whips out her hair dryer and says, “It’s my Industrial Strength Hair Dryer, and I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT IT!” In response to the Prompt people wrote lovely thoughts. Some luxuries mentioned were coffee, the internet, families, and look at these desserts from Barcelona that my Blog Sister, the Public Transit User, featured. Wowzers.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to post on the prompt because Fun Thing Number Two happened . . . I went to a PAR-TAY– an outdoor all-out bash at a barn on a country club. The Birthday Barn Party featured country music (ugh), smoked meats, and a mechanical bull. I borrowed boots and a hat from my mom, was schooled in the rules of bull riding by my father (something about having to hang on for 8 seconds), and kissed the kids and husband goodbye. The best part of party night was that my husband insisted I couldn’t drive my disgusting, beat up minivan to a country club to be valet parked, so I drove our “fancy” car– a Hyundai Sonata. Okay, I can hear your giggles. But it IS a top of the line Sonata, so there! Here are some pics:

My foot driving the “fancy car” in a cowboy boot!

My stuff for the party- a cowboy hat, a gift bag containing a bottle of champagne, my purse (mostly to carry my lipstick), and flats for when my boots started to annoy me.

Driving the Hyundai! I plugged in my phone and shuffled and look what came on!? Another poser country girl! (Just kidding, Taylor. I love you.)

I have to admit that I didn’t ride the bull and left before the cake, but seeing my friend celebrate her birthday and tripping down memory lane made for a lovely night.

This morning I partook in Fun Thing Number Three. Yoga. But during this yoga class, Stretchy Woman (my beloved teacher) decided we would do yoga up against the wall. “Wall Yoga,” she called it. Practicing in this way is quite enlightening in that you feel your alignment and different angles of your body when certain parts of it are pressed against the flat wall, and you get to do fun things like hold yourself upside down and walk your legs up the wall and really feel your shoulders and arms working to hold you up. It was interesting to try.

Then during the afternoon I accomplished a Not-So-Fun-Thing. The Great Toy Purge Project of 2013. I braved the basement mess of ten years of toys and I sorted and separated and packed and bagged old toys. The project took hours and resulted in five large black garbage bags, a ton of things to donate, and peace of mind. However, it’s still a mess down there. I have a couple of random piles that I’m not sure how to deal with. I took some pics for you though (the fun never ends here at WOAW!):

Garbage bags. Getting rid of the train table. Thank God for Hefty!

Packed like items into gallon ziplock bags to donate.

And still have to figure out the stuffed animals . . .

That’s what I did this weekend, and here it is late Sunday night and tomorrow is another Monday. I’m hoping tomorrow will be my Magnificent Made-Up Men of Monday inaugural post (featuring Lloyd Dobler, as promised). I’ll try.

Have a nice night!

What’s Up, Blogtropolis??!!!

HI EVERYONE!

I’ve missed being here on WordPress! In fact, I feel like everything has changed here– there must have been some sort of update because my “Add New Post” screen that I’m looking at as I type this looks so faaannnncy schmancy! Different font, updated look. It’s so pretty and easy on the eyes. Kudos, WordPress!

Can you tell I’m excited? I thought I’d wow you all with some deep thoughts here today, but frankly, I don’t have a deep thought in my head right now. But I do have some shallow thoughts that I am willing to share.

How’s your summer going? Mine is chugging along at a steady pace. M. attends school in the summer (which he’s happy about), JC spends his days at camp. My husband is busy training Kiri Kai Kai Princess Baby (formerly Kiri Madonna), reading one of my favorite books, The Passage, by Justin Cronin, and crushing candy (he’s on level 100 but is stuck on some “quests.” I have no idea what that means, but it keeps him busy while I blog so I neither ask nor complain).

Me? I’m stuck at work, freezing my butt off in July and wrapping myself in my Woobie. Other than that, here’s what’s on my mind:

This dog, Kiri– Gosh she’s cute! But she’s a puppy which isn’t easy. Now that she’s been around for a couple weeks we are finding that she has two major spurts of energy where we seriously wonder if she’s nuts– once in the morning (when we are busy getting everyone ready and out the door), and once at night (when we are trying to calm the kids to go to bed)– so THAT’S really convenient. Although she weighs in around 11 pounds, she thinks she’s about 30 pounds the way she harasses the other neighborhood dogs. She’s dominated “George” and “Winston.” Admittedly, “Sonny” kicked her butt. At Puppy Kindergarten she’s CLEARLY the smartest and cutest puppy. She deserves her own post someday, so I’ll just put some pics here and move on (it’s difficult for an amateur photographer to take a good iPhone picture of a black puppy, by the way) . .

This blogger, Megan– If you may recall, through blogging I made a friend, Megan (The Underground Writer). Well guess what? She was Freshly Pressed this week! You can see her FP’d post titled “For a Good Time Call” here. Unlike here at WOAW where I’m all “blah blah blah” and “yadda yadda yadda,” barfing out whatever is on my mind as I think it, Megan is a real writer. An excellent writer. She would never write “blah blah blah” in her post like I just did. She plans her posts and relays stories from her life beautifully and humorously and I’m so happy that WordPress found and acknowledged her. She could change her site name to The Awesomely Wonderful Classy Writer and it wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

This fortune, wtf– I think I may be dumb. I don’t get it. I even tried adding the “in bed” to the end of the sentence and got nothing. Any philosophers out there who can explain this to me? Maybe I’m too old or cynical or closed-minded for fortune cookies? Maybe I really am shallow– too shallow to figure this one out? Maybe I have brain freeze from overexposure to air conditioning? Maybe I should have ordered the Chicken and Broccoli, or opted for Mexican instead?

Help me see the light.

photo-55 — “Freed from desire, then you can see the hidden mystery.”

This website, Thought Catalog– Speaking of getting old and cynical, anyone follow Thought Catalog? It’s this excellent website/blog/Facebook thing, clearly targeting twenty-somethings, that always provides interesting posts. You can link over here if you want to check it out.

Now I’ve been a follower of Thought Catalog for quite some time. After months of perusing my Reader and getting lost in Thought Catalog posts, I decided to edit my Reader so that I would receive instant notifications of new posts to my email.

This is the result:

Now don’t get me wrong- I’ve learned a ton of stuff about nothing relevant to my life: sex and the 20-something single girl, transvestites, how to navigate online dating, how to tell if your boyfriend is cheating, etc. etc. But I find the site HIGHLY addictive and since the people who run the site post about a gazillion posts a day, let’s just say I’m distracted.*

See how the view of the titles in the inbox entice you enough to want to click and read more? On the iPhone 4 view, I see this: “12 Things Every Wo . . .” Of COURSE I’m going to have to click on that. Twelve things, what? That Every Woman Wants? TELL ME. What about: “6 Reasons Why Hollywoo . . .” What ARE the Reasons for Holly-woo doing anything? I NEED to know.

Thought Catalog is killing me. Damn them for being so great! After I publish this post, I’m changing them back to “NEVER notify me of new posts by email” status. Hopefully then I’ll be able to get some work done :).

*In Thought Catalog’s defense, I’m easily distracted. If it weren’t TC, it would be some other website, food, Pandora, the lost person wandering the hallway, whatever.

This cupcake, Gluten Free– the picture speaks a thousand words (and signifies a thousand calories) . . . no need to elaborate except to say it was totally worth it . . .

photo-56 — Gluten Free Cupcake from SadieCakes

This show, House of Cards– I am LOVING House of Cards. A Netflix Original Series, House of Cards follows the life of Francis Underwood, the Majority Whip of Congress, played by the amazing Kevin Spacey. He’s horrible and awesome at the same time. Robin Wright as his wife, Claire, is PERFECT. One of my favorite episodes is when Francis has to deal with his hometown in South Carolina while at the same time argue about a major bill in Washington. The contrast between the small town issue and the big national issue is fun and entertaining and interesting. You’ll LOVE this show and fly through the 13-episode series. You’ll also love Robin Wright’s super cool haircut . . .

The Underwoods- Screwing with Washington in style.

This song, Get Lucky– by Daft Punk Feat. Pharrell Williams. It’s so catchy and fun and I can’t sit still through it . . . This song makes me wish I could go clubbing and drink sea breezes and get tipsy and dance to it.

photo-5 — Do y’all use Shazam? Bought this one the first time I tagged it.

This blog, How I missed it! So that’s what I’ve been doing this summer– kids, working, puppies, cupcakes, Netflix, music. I’ve also been writing, but that’s for another post. This one is already over a thousand words and I know you have other things to do.

I hope your summer is going great! Thanks for reading.

Have a nice night!

(Photo of House of Cards: http://media.npr.org/assets/img/2013/01/29/hoc-ph-22120r-babd299b44de4b096fc2d563c31bb2398737e5d5-s6-c30.jpg)

Gram’s Patriotism

Happy 4th of July!

I wanted to share a quick post tonight about my paternal grandmother, Dorothy. Her life was a story, but tonight I want to share something I learned about her in her death.

When “Gram” died a couple of years ago at the age of 88, she had planned her entire funeral down to the smallest detail. She’d picked a casket, a dress, planned the wake and the funeral mass. She’d done it all– except name someone to do her eulogy.

My brother and cousins were either too distraught or too intimidated to do the eulogy so they recruited me to do it, the eldest grandchild. I drafted a five minute speech summarizing my forty years of memories of my grandmother. When I was finished drafting it, I gave it to my dad to review for dates, names, and other information I wasn’t sure of.

Dad came back with comments like, “well, why didn’t you say [fill in the blank]” and “why didn’t you mention [fill in the blank].” Of course, his memories and knowledge of his mother were different than mine of my grandmother, but it was my eulogy, not his, so I pretty much stuck to my guns. Except for one thing.

He asked why I didn’t mention that she was patriotic.

“Huh?” I said. I’d never really thought of Gram as patriotic. Sure, she bought poppies from the vets on Memorial Day and hung them on her car’s rearview mirror. And yeah, I guess I’d seen flags around. I probably could connect her obsessive interest in news and the justice system to patriotism (she watched every minute of the O.J. Simpson trial and often had Court TV or CNN on the television). I didn’t really get it though.

Then my dad pointed out what I already knew. My Grandfather was in World War II during the early years of their marriage. Twenty years or so later, my grandmother’s only two children went into the armed forced during the Vietnam War– one enlisted and one drafted. I can’t imagine what she went through during these periods: first, as a young bride and mother praying for her husband’s safe return; and then, a mere couple of decades later, watching both of her sons go to war. Having a husband at war must have been horribly difficult, but to have to do it over with your children just seemed cruel. All those years were spent hoping and praying for the three men in her life, not knowing how they fared and not having any control over the outcome.

When I thought about this, I wondered how she didn’t go crazy. Why she wasn’t angry. I’d never once heard her complain about the war years and she never talked about the worry or stress she felt over the safety of her husband or sons. How did she get through?

The only answer I could come up with was faith. Faith in God, but also faith in her country– trusting that those in charge would make the right decisions and keep her family safe. Patriotism is not only loving your country, but believing in it and trusting it to take care of us.

After I delivered the eulogy and the service ended we all started to leave the church. As she had chosen all of the music for her funeral mass, Gram had chosen the exit song, too. She’d picked “God Bless America.” A few days earlier I would have been surprised by her choice but that day as I walked out of the church with my family, I understood and I felt proud.

Have a nice night and thanks for reading.

What Inspires You?

Inspiration is defined as “the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.”

I’ve read and re-read that definition about ten times while staring at the blinking cursor here and it wasn’t until the tenth time that I realized how incredible it is to be inspired. That something, someone, can stimulate your mind so much as to make you act or create. It’s really the act of being touched. Not physically touched (although maybe that can be inspiring) but that something can crawl inside your skin, into your heart, into your soul, and motivate you to “do” or “feel.” In the simplest terms, inspiration is a blessing. Can you imagine a life without it?

I’ve been thinking about what inspires me. It’s tough to narrow down the concept of inspiration into words in a blog post, but I’ve come up with the following:

People inspire me. People present daily in my life, like my husband who supports me and my friends who encourage me, and people I don’t know personally but who motivate me by their actions or words. Mostly, my kids inspire me to be a better person and to try to live my life unselfishly, as An Example. I know I hold the keys to the doors they will choose, and I want them to win at life. Pick the right doors. And I realize how simple it would be for me to screw them up– happens all the time with parents and kids. I don’t want to mess them up and send them through the wrong doors for the wrong reasons. So my kids inspire me to try to be better– not for me, but for them. Inspiration is love.

Music inspires me. Sometimes a song flows through my ears straight to my heart. When using words to describe certain songs or artists that inspire me, I’ve said, “I hear it and I feel it on the inside.” Not very eloquent, but it’s the simplest way for me to put words to the feeling. Some songs give me chills. Some make me angry. Some take me back to a specific point in time that I remember so clearly. Some grab me so hard that I ache. Do you know a song that actually makes you feel thankful that you have it in your mind, that you’ve experienced it and can pull it up in a moment when you need it? Sounds dramatic, I know. Inspiration is dramatic.

Nature inspires me. I’m not an outdoorsy kind of gal, but sometimes I see things in nature that are so perfect, so beautiful and simple, that I can’t even believe it. A fully bloomed rose. The bluest sky. The bright green grass. Corny, I know, but amazing nonetheless. JC is a big fan of animals and nature. He’s taught me about jellyfish and scorpions, rhinos and dinosaurs and let me tell you, they are all pretty cool. The smallest flower to the biggest mountain, ants to elephants, if you think about it, the world and how it works is pretty damn miraculous. Ever see the Grand Canyon? After spending Sunday after Sunday in church, praying mostly for the Mass to be over to get to the donuts in the basement, it wasn’t until I saw the Grand Canyon that I actually felt spiritual. It’s probably the most awe-inspiring thing I’ve ever seen. Inspiration is the world around us.

Inspiration also comes in the form of your words, whether I talk to you in person, on email, or read your blog posts. So Thank You!

On that note, I’m proud to accept the Very Inspirational Blogger Award from sweetness over at Chronicles of a Public Transit User; Dylan at Eyes Through the Looking Glass; S.L. at The Urge to Write; and Lois & Clark over at Clark Kent.

If you ever need a dose of inspiration, hit up these blogs: Sweetness at PTU for inspiration to save money for a car and avoid public transit at all costs (!) (click here for the post on the tossed cookies and importance of knowing the difference between red and green lights); Dylan for inspiration on living the best life you can despite any challenges you may face (click here for his very different take on inspiration); S.L. for inspiration on writing, music, and fanfiction and just plain fun (Do guys in eyeliner inspire you? Check out this post for S.L.’s Guys Who Can Pull Off Guyliner list) and Clark for inspiration on finding your “twin flame” (“Huh?” you ask. Click here to read more). Thank you for the nomination!

The Rules for the Award*:

(1) Display the Award Logo. (Check!)

(2) Link back to your nominators. (Check!)

(3) Nominate 15 Inspiring Bloggers. (See below!)

(4) Notify them of their nominations. (Will do!)

*It seems the rules vary on this one. I’m taking the simple route, but some routes also require a seven-things-about-you list.

Here are my nominees:

Factory Maid – She’s making major changes in her life including moving to Chicago (on Monday!) and reentering the dating scene. Besides posts about her life, her friends, and her work, Factory Maid does this super cool thing where she finds pictures and comes up with imaginative, perfectly written stories based on the picture and shares them on her blog. Here’s one. I love seeing her posts pop up in my inbox!

Especially Made– A mother and writer, she takes her inspiration from her religion. She always takes the time to read and comment on my posts and give careful attention to her readers on her blog. As a parent and a Christian she’s the embodiment of “inspiration.”

Dana, who’s Swimming in the Shucking Tub– Many of us know Dana only in relation to David over at Sounds Like Orange, but Dana is an inspiring blogger in her own right. One of the most beautiful writers in Blogtropolis (see this post), Dana’s fearlessness makes me want to be a better writer. Besides sharing her stories, she also designs amazing jewelry. She deserves an audience so give her a visit!

Crissi Langwell– A published author (I recently downloaded her book, A Symphony of Cicadas onto my Kindle), Crissi’s blog seeks to inspire the writer in all of us. I anxiously await her honest posts on the writing life and her journey as an author.

Nicole at mommy&everything– Her kids inspire her, but she’s not afraid to share when they drive her nuts either. She inspires me in real life too, and I’m lucky to have her as a friend and pseudo-sister. Here’s an example of her Random Monday Thoughts feature, which I love.

cvheerden at Bridging Worlds– CVH’s blog is part travel blog, part politics, all inspiration. She’s been everywhere and has dedicated her life to making a difference. Her “About” page (here) lists the places she’s been and links to her posts on everything from education to her bucket list to pastoring.

Angela at Telling New Stories– Angela’s another real life friend; in fact, she inspired me to actually sit down and start writing (I posted about it here). She’s blogging and sharing about movies, life, hope and dreams. She’s my writing inspiration, unofficial therapist, and soul sister.

Chronicles of John Shue– John has been a blogging inspiration to me, sharing all aspects of his life including his work, his dating experiences, his love for his father, and his connection with God. When he disappeared from the blogging world for a bit, I actually emailed him looking for him! I’m glad to see that he’s back and hope you check him out.

The Underground Writer– Megan takes the simple happenings in life and turns them into humorous posts that make me giggle and say, “YEAH! I get that!” Here’s a cute post with her thoughts on why we take Mother’s Day more seriously than Father’s Day. She’s also a new friend who inspires me as a parent and a writer and I’m excited to finally meet her in the Big Apple this fall- yay!

The Howling Mad Cat– Did you ever read a blog by a cat? HMC shares quick witty posts about the feline way of life. Here’s a post by HMC about Cat Yoga. Yes. A cat who blogs.

Jack Flacco– Jack inspires me every Wednesday with his Women Who Wow Wednesday feature (this past week he featured the women of “The Incredibles” which was so awesome!), and because he is a published writer with his book, Ranger Martin and the Zombie Apocalypse, ready for release in October. If you like zombies, Canada, Women Who Wow, and excellent writing, check him out!

Ritu at Things to Rave About– Ritu’s blog includes travel, photography, and inspiration. Check out her post of inspirational quotes for June here. She’s been hanging around WOAW from the early days here, and I appreciate the support she has given me and the inspiration she’s provided on her lovely blog.

Poetlandia– Another Canadian, Poetlandia writes in search of happiness and shares her many life experiences. Poetry is Poetlandia’s passion. I love this list of “77 Things” about Poetlandia, which itself reads like a poem! (That’s a lot of “P”‘s!).

Daydreams from the Spectrum– Jenny shares her life raising an autistic child and deserves the label “inspiring” because she’s completely honest about it all– the good and the difficult. I love this post about her struggles as a parent of a special needs child.

Ling Lee, The Lost Girl– A fledgling writer, Ling admits that she’s “fighting to get her spirit back.” She needs our support, Blogtropolis, and truly appreciates comments and reads of her writing extracts. Give her a look!

Whew! And that’s it! Fifteen out of the many of you who inspire me daily. Thanks for reading and thanks again for the nomination!

Companionable

The Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge is to show “Companionable.” You can see the post (and cute pictures of dogs) here.

That’s JC and M. playing with the hose in our backyard. We had two kids so that they would have each other. Though they share the same blood, they are as different as day and night. They’re a yin and a yang. Peanut butter and jelly. Our greatest hope is that they will love each other despite their differences, that JC will care for and love M. and, along with his parents, be a champion for M. and his special needs.

Have a nice night!

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