Day 174

Last week I was MIA.  I was sick the first part of the week and then some stressful things happened mid to end of the week.  Luckily, on Friday I was able to go to BYU for the last day of woman's conference.  Amazingly, it was my first time.  I don't do things alone.  Ok, I go to the bathroom alone and I go to the temple alone, but other than that...

I drove up with the lovely Miss M and M2 and the three went our separate ways once on campus.  I was super nervous.  My Angora phobia set in as thousands of woman crammed into the Wilkinson center.  There was some shoving (I know I was shocked) and I thought to myself, "This isn't what this is about."  I didn't even attempt to join the mad throng, but went to the bookstore and settled myself in the one quiet corner and picked up the biography of the Queen Mother in honor of the royal wedding and the King's Speech.  Then I picked out the memoir by Louise Erdrich and had a lovely few minutes.  I then picked myself up by the bootstraps and did things MY WAY.  I stopped at a cart and grabbed a panini sans cheese and then got to my second class early and sat in line eating my sandwich and reading.  I stayed in the same building the next two classes and avoided all the hassle.  One of the classes  was taught by two of my favorite bloggers and I furiously took notes for the next couple of hours.

I felt prompted to go to the conference this year and I'm glad I did.  I needed some of what I learned to help me over a couple of hard tasks that are demanding attention, focus, and all my faith right now.  I don't know if I'm going to say I could do that every year.  Honestly, I was exhausted by the time we got home.  We were gone for 12 hours and I was quite ready to get back to real life.  The Y is a beautiful campus and the cloud cover over the mountains was breathtaking.  I just wish that all of the throngs of women realized that getting into a class isn't worth pushing into a woman in a wheelchair.  That being said, I made friends with some delightful women wherever I went throughout my day and I was so proud of myself for experiencing it on my own.

Day 173

I have edited 75 pages of my story.  I am hoping that as I continue a few blanks I need to fill in will be filled.  I am reading the book Bird by Bird by Anne Lamont about writing and I'm really enjoying it.  My MIL sent it to me on my birthday and it was so thoughtful of her

J, just about 4 years ago we were next door neighbors at the hospital and that was before we listened to my mom's advice!   Lovely day with you today.  Let's duet again soon. :)

Day 172

Yesterday was a good day.  Writing that now doesn't do it justice.  I feel so loved and grateful.  Last night after a day of family and friends, T and I snuck out to dinner and to see The King's Speech.  I loved it.  My parents took the kids for a sleepover and it was just the perfect day.
I got a smart phone.  I'm not sure what to do with it yet, though everyone assures me I will love it.

Took C out for a special treat as he did something today that was very brave.  I am so very proud of him.

Day 171

Tomorrow I turn 36.  I still feel like when I say that number it doesn't really belong to me.  Like I'm just saying some random number.  What does being 36 mean anyway?  It's really no different than 35, than 23, than 19, other than I have a bit more experience and flab under my belt.  Inside I feel just the same only that now I'm supposed to be more serious and mature and be in charge/control of my own life.  I guess I don't really know what it's supposed to mean, other than I'm glad I've been here for all this time and I like myself more now and feel more comfortable in my own skin more than at any other time in my life.  35 was a good year, maybe a half way mark where in a lot of ways I felt as if I "got" a few things.  I'm nothing if not a late bloomer, so the fact that it took that long makes a great deal of sense to me.   It's a great feeling to know who I am and be ok with it.  It's liberating and if that is what age does, than I'm heading in the right direction.

Enjoy a piece of cake for me...

Day 170

For better or worse, I am enclosing a small scene from the novel that I am once again editing.

I can't believe that I am and it's rough, really rough.  I don't know why I chose this small part to share, other than it's what I'm editing now and I figured I would just throw it out there.  I need help motivating me to finish this.

He stuck out his tongue slightly when he was concentrating, just the pink tip and only sometimes, he would have hated her had she mentioned it.  The hair around his neck was growing longer and the longer it got, the curlier it got, but she hesitated brushing it with her fingers and only did it when he was really relaxed.  He wasn’t usually relaxed, even when they finished making out.  He was tense, but it came from somewhere deep inside.  He was so tightly wound that she was afraid sometimes he would come apart, but he held things close.  He didn’t confide in her even when she questioned him directly.  He deflected attention and there were times when they sat in silence, he smoking and her reading or leaning back into his arms.  He didn’t ask her too many things about herself unless she volunteered information.  He didn’t seem to need, want to know all that much about her and she was hesitant to give him too much as if somehow he could use it against her, but not in a bad way.  He didn’t talk about his family, when she asked about his brother or grandma he muttered incoherently and his parents were off limits, she learned that the first week. 

“Where are your parents-do you mind if I ask that?”

He laid back on the grass.  “Yah, I do.” 

He didn’t say anything else, so she had muttered an apology.  He had held a strand of her hair and twirled it around his fingers. 

“Don’t feel sad.  I just can’t go there yet, pretty girl.” 

She loved it when he called her that or baby girl or gorgeous or any pet name, except that he didn’t use silly names, he was much too dark and serious for that. 

“What do you want to do?  Why are you here?” 

They were leaning against the lockers after school, the hallways deserted waiting for Tyler who was going to be late.

She looked at him.  “I don’t know.  I’m supposed to know right-seniors next year, life mapped out.”

“Your parents map it out for you?” 

She felt defensive.  “Yah, but…”

“But what?  I asked what YOU want to do?”

“I don’t know.  I like acting.” 

He rolled his eyes.  “Are you serious?”

“What?  What’s wrong with that?”

“Because I don’t see you act.  You don’t hang out with the drama kids, it’s not your life.  That seems like an easy answer, sweetheart.”

“Easy?  How is that easy?”

He snorted.  “We are in Southern California and you ask me how that’s easy?  Could you be more predictable?   Challenge me.”

She thought a lot about that exchange.  Challenge him.  What did he want from her?  Once when she was in junior high she had taken a government class and wanted to be in the House of Representatives.  She didn’t know why.  She wasn’t interested in politics, but it felt cool to think about making laws.  She had thought about teaching, but wasn’t all too excited about being in a classroom all day.  She had no interest being in a corporation like her father’s and her mom on her endless committees, she didn’t want to do that.  She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to get married.  She loved traveling; maybe she could join the Peace Corps or something.  Move back to New York and be a journalist.  She liked History.

         She thought of Mr. Meyers.  Did she like History so much this year because of History or because of him?  She thought of the few days of her Drama class.  She liked it.  She liked pretending to be someone else.  It was easier than trying to be herself. 

 Challenge him.  She had done a scene from Julius Caesar last year at her old school and gotten an A+ in her AP Shakespeare class.   She had done the death scene where Brutus betrays Caesar.  She had worked hard on that scene trying to emote what it would feel like to be betrayed so thoroughly by someone you most loved.  She had played his part of getting stabbed with confusion and innocence as if still not believing that her best friend could have stabbed her and wished for her death.  She died with a look of confusion still on her face, one arm slightly reaching out wanting to hold the murderer’s because she still loved him as she always had.  The class had given her a standing ovation and her teacher raved about her adaptation.  To be honest, it hadn’t really been a stretch.  She pictured Caesar still loving Brutus even in death, the hand that raised the knife, was still the hand that had clasped his arms and broken bread with him for so many years.  His death must have seemed like merely a bad dream, a horrible joke.

John was wrong.  There was nothing easy about acting.  She did want to be an actress.  He hadn’t seen her act because she was new to his school and this was the end of the year.  The spring play was over.  She would show him next year when she signed up for the play.  Her new Drama teacher had told her she had some talent after she had done a short improv from Rent the second day she was there.  She didn’t take it too seriously, but that was it.  That was what she wanted to do.

She told him that the next day at lunch.  “I stand by my statement.”

He was drawing.  “What?”

 “I’m going to be an actress.”

“Why?” 

“Because I like pretending to be someone else.”

“Really.  Why? Because it’s easier sometimes reading a script that’s already been written?  I thought that was part of your problem.”

She winced.  He was right.  “No, its not the script, it’s the interpretation, you can be safe, its like hiding a little bit, but its also like taking a huge risk without consequence.”

“Atta girl.  I like the thought of you taking a risk.  It seems to me like you’ve been eating vanilla ice cream all your life.  You don’t seem like the type of gal who’s ever taken a risk in your whole life.”

She laughed.  “How’d ya guess?”

He raised his eyes.   “You emote…an empty page.”

“Wait, what?  Thanks a lot.”

“I’m not putting you down.  Just fill the page.”  He held her gaze.  “I’m putting a little mocha into all that vanilla.”

She tried not to shiver. “You are, huh?”

He reached over and grabbed her lower lip gently, but with his teeth. 

Day 169

I love the game Scrabble.  T likes to play me, but bless his heart, it's not a challenge.  So I've been playing my baby brother on Words With Friends on the iTouch.  The iTouch belongs to T so I only get it at night and weekends and it usually goes that one of us will play a word and then 12 hours later someone else plays another word.  You get the idea.  A game can last for days whenever we have time to make one word.  The game isn't like Scrabble.  You can cheat.  My bro uses word like bis and ree and qi.  He gets like 40 points a pop.  I, on the other hand, make what I think are incredible legitimate words and I lose every time.  So now I'm finding myself trying to go around the system and see what the game will allow and it's driving the Scrabble purist in me, insane.  He's 8 years younger than me, I used to wipe his butt as a baby, and I should be the winner, dang it!

I'm slightly bitter.  He made the word Za and En and got 29 points.  I made the word Zany and got 16.  I should be using my REAL words in a story and skip all this nonsense.  Grrr....

Day 168

Some of you know about my relationship with my in-laws.  I will not detail it here, but let's just say it is something that is a work in progress.  I left after a few hours with them and was in tears the rest of the day.   They are wonderful people and I just don't know how I am supposed to act with them.  Our "parts" seem to have been written for us through our past actions and reactions and there is so much left unsaid but that is staring us in the face.  My honest opinion is that my father in law wants to love me and me to love him, but is afraid I don't and so puts up a wall and guess what, I feel the same way.  The thought that he doesn't like me crushes me even though I pretend to be tough about it.  It hurts and it makes me feel sad.

In other news, if I am taking coconut oil to kill yeast, why did the 4 pieces of toast I just ate taste so delicious???


I'm not proud...