This may be my last blog for a little while. I'm about to embark on the craziest/bravest/dumbest endeavor in my life. I've signed on with thousands of others around the world who are going to attempt to write a novel in thirty days. A yearly event, National Novel Writing Month, has been taking place every November since 1999. When I first heard about it, I was intrigued. Could I really do such a thing? And if so, what would I do with it? Procrastination, forgetfulness, and fear took over and year after year went by without me giving it a try.
So, here I am. Out of excuses and determined to succeed. The NaNoWriMo website is full of ideas, tips and support for all of us who are crazy enough to think we can do this and the local writers I've met at the kick-off events are all committed (or should I say should be committed) to helping each other survive the month. It all starts at midnight. So if you don't hear from me for awhile, know that I'm burrowed down with my laptop and a Diet Coke, trying to prove I can produce a written product longer than three paragraphs.
In the meantime, I will check in with any updates or frustration. But if I have to come up with an average of 1667 words a day, very few of them will be here. Wish me luck. I'm going to need it.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
SYTYCD
For the second time in a week, I left the comfort of my family room and ventured out on a workday. This time I braved fifty mile per hour winds to hang out with the exceptionally devoted fans of the American Idol-like dance competition, "So You Think You Can Dance". It's been a long time since I've been to a rock concert but that's what it felt like last night. I doubt if Elvis in his prime had as many screaming fans.
The show, a recreation of many of the dances seen last season on TV, featured an exuberant cast of young dancers doing impossible things with their bodies. I sat there watching their agility, flexibility and energy with envy. I never moved like that. Never.
When the show was over, the true fanatics (my sister included) headed for the stage door for autographs and photos. After braving the cold for twenty minutes, I opted for the warmth of the car while my crazy sibling and her friend waited for their dancing heroes. Within an hour, they were rewarded for their devotion. The cast couldn't have been more accommodating as they worked their way through the crowd. Several added their signatures to my sister's T-shirt (which just happened to be on her body) and posed for windblown photos. My sis was in her element and her joy was contagious. I may have been tired. I may have been cold. But I'm glad I was there.
The show, a recreation of many of the dances seen last season on TV, featured an exuberant cast of young dancers doing impossible things with their bodies. I sat there watching their agility, flexibility and energy with envy. I never moved like that. Never.
When the show was over, the true fanatics (my sister included) headed for the stage door for autographs and photos. After braving the cold for twenty minutes, I opted for the warmth of the car while my crazy sibling and her friend waited for their dancing heroes. Within an hour, they were rewarded for their devotion. The cast couldn't have been more accommodating as they worked their way through the crowd. Several added their signatures to my sister's T-shirt (which just happened to be on her body) and posed for windblown photos. My sis was in her element and her joy was contagious. I may have been tired. I may have been cold. But I'm glad I was there.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Leftovers
Outside of Thanksgiving, I've never been a huge fan of leftovers. I guess I'm easily bored. I don't want to have the same meal two days in a row. But since my part-time job has taken over my life, I've discovered the beauty of coming home to a meal that I can reheat.
I used to love to cook. I watched Julia Child before she was cool and wasn't a bit intimidated by the complicated recipes. In fact, I enjoyed the challenge of recreating her dishes and the accolades I got for doing so. Once we had kids, those days were over. Not only did they prefer chicken fingers to coq-au-vin, I no longer had the time or the energy to cook anything that required more than fifteen minutes of my time.
Now that the kids are grown, my urge to flex my culinary muscles occasionally resurfaces. Just last week I whipped up a shrimp risotto that Julia would have been proud of. But yesterday, it was a simple roast beef dinner that reminded me of something my mom would have made. Tonight, it was roast beef dinner 2 and it went over pretty well. Amazingly, there's enough left for another meal. Do I dare?
I used to love to cook. I watched Julia Child before she was cool and wasn't a bit intimidated by the complicated recipes. In fact, I enjoyed the challenge of recreating her dishes and the accolades I got for doing so. Once we had kids, those days were over. Not only did they prefer chicken fingers to coq-au-vin, I no longer had the time or the energy to cook anything that required more than fifteen minutes of my time.
Now that the kids are grown, my urge to flex my culinary muscles occasionally resurfaces. Just last week I whipped up a shrimp risotto that Julia would have been proud of. But yesterday, it was a simple roast beef dinner that reminded me of something my mom would have made. Tonight, it was roast beef dinner 2 and it went over pretty well. Amazingly, there's enough left for another meal. Do I dare?
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Ready for a New Team
I've decided that being a Bears fan is a lot like that Disney ride, Tower of Terror. You ride up slowly, trying not to think about what's going to happen next. You can lull yourself into thinking that you're on a fun, little ride when, all of a sudden, the bottom falls out and you want to barf your brains out. Since I do my best to avoid those stomach churning rides whenever possible, I think it's time for me to pledge allegiance to a football team that won't simulate the feeling every freaking week.
I don't think it's going to be easy. I've been a die-hard Bears fan for forty years. But enough's enough. I've wasted too many Sundays hanging on the hope that this team would get better. And, just my luck, the only time they actually did win the Super Bowl, I was living on another continent. Oh, sure, they got back to the big dance a few years ago. Cruelly, they returned the opening kickoff for a touchdown before stomping on our hearts yet again.
Still, I remained loyal. Like most of us in Chicago, I drank the Kool-Aid when Jay Cutler was signed as the franchise quarterback who would lead us to the promised land. But now that his favorite receivers are wearing the other team's jerseys, I find myself thinking about the Rex Grossman era as the good old days.
I do have something to look forward to. There is no Bears game next Sunday. It's their bye week. That should give me plenty of time to survey the other 31 teams before picking a worthy successor. I find it ironic, however, that the Bears aren't playing. After all, it is Halloween.
I don't think it's going to be easy. I've been a die-hard Bears fan for forty years. But enough's enough. I've wasted too many Sundays hanging on the hope that this team would get better. And, just my luck, the only time they actually did win the Super Bowl, I was living on another continent. Oh, sure, they got back to the big dance a few years ago. Cruelly, they returned the opening kickoff for a touchdown before stomping on our hearts yet again.
Still, I remained loyal. Like most of us in Chicago, I drank the Kool-Aid when Jay Cutler was signed as the franchise quarterback who would lead us to the promised land. But now that his favorite receivers are wearing the other team's jerseys, I find myself thinking about the Rex Grossman era as the good old days.
I do have something to look forward to. There is no Bears game next Sunday. It's their bye week. That should give me plenty of time to survey the other 31 teams before picking a worthy successor. I find it ironic, however, that the Bears aren't playing. After all, it is Halloween.
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Saturday Shopping
I must have been out of my mind. For no good reason, I went to Costco on a Saturday. I didn't really need anything. I have a relatively flexible work schedule and could easily have waited until Monday. So why did I do it? I did need to fill up my car but I could have pulled into the gas lanes, filled the tank and left without anyone getting hurt. But, no. I had to park my car in the next county and go inside.
I thought we were in the middle of an economic crisis. The swarm of humanity roaming the aisles of Costco would seem to say otherwise. Shopping carts loaded with Duggar sized boxes of cereal, kennel sized bags of dog food and peanut butter jars capable of lasting an entire school year met me at every turn. I headed for the bakery section but, as luck would have it, the bread I wanted was nowhere to be found. Weaving in and out of traffic, I helped myself to a sample of organic, sparkling pomegranate juice before coming to my senses and hightailing it out of there. And what did I leave with? One rotisserie chicken, a carton of half and half, and a bag of brussel sprouts. At least my husband is going to eat tonight.
I thought we were in the middle of an economic crisis. The swarm of humanity roaming the aisles of Costco would seem to say otherwise. Shopping carts loaded with Duggar sized boxes of cereal, kennel sized bags of dog food and peanut butter jars capable of lasting an entire school year met me at every turn. I headed for the bakery section but, as luck would have it, the bread I wanted was nowhere to be found. Weaving in and out of traffic, I helped myself to a sample of organic, sparkling pomegranate juice before coming to my senses and hightailing it out of there. And what did I leave with? One rotisserie chicken, a carton of half and half, and a bag of brussel sprouts. At least my husband is going to eat tonight.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
I'm With the Band
Well, tonight's another performance of my husband's band, Night People. This is their first gig that's been scheduled for a weekday but the venue is in our downtown area so I guess I have no excuse. I've invited a lot of my co-workers to come and have a drink with me so it should be fun. Trouble is, as I've mentioned before, I'm usually in my jammies by 8 so I'm a little aggravated that I have to suck it up and be social. On a Thursday. When I'm working till 7.
Until last week, I was harboring the idea that I might go on stage and sing a number or two. That, of course, would have meant going to a rehearsal or two with the band. Which would have meant leaving my house and being social yet again so . . . But now that my friends are coming, I'm regretting not making the effort. It would have been fun to show them a side of me they haven't seen, a side of me I haven't seen in a long time. I can only hope that we pack the place tonight and they invite the band back. Maybe then I'll be able to ditch the jammies, go to a rehearsal and get up on that stage. I think I need to prove to myself that I'm not as old as I sometimes feel. There is a rocker chick buried in there somewhere. Next time, I hope she has the guts to come out and play.
Until last week, I was harboring the idea that I might go on stage and sing a number or two. That, of course, would have meant going to a rehearsal or two with the band. Which would have meant leaving my house and being social yet again so . . . But now that my friends are coming, I'm regretting not making the effort. It would have been fun to show them a side of me they haven't seen, a side of me I haven't seen in a long time. I can only hope that we pack the place tonight and they invite the band back. Maybe then I'll be able to ditch the jammies, go to a rehearsal and get up on that stage. I think I need to prove to myself that I'm not as old as I sometimes feel. There is a rocker chick buried in there somewhere. Next time, I hope she has the guts to come out and play.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
How Do I Turn This Darn Thing Off?
I have always been a bit of a worrier. Okay, maybe more than a bit. I've been cursed (like most mothers) with the gift of seeing the worst possible outcome of any given scenario. This natural tendency to envision catastrophe around every corner can often turn me into a . . . a . . . I don't want to say it . . . nag.
The truth is, if the kids were away at school I wouldn't know anything about their homework, research papers or tests. But since they're still sleeping in the beds they've occupied since they were three, I can't seem to help myself from becoming involved in their school deadlines, cleaning habits and romantic relationships. I know I pulled all-nighters at school, I know I dated a few questionable individuals, I know my bathroom used to resemble an outhouse. But there's a part of me that just keeps thinking I can save my kids from making these same mistakes. In addition to being a nag, I guess I'm also an idiot.
In many ways, I see great progress in both my kids. Now I just have to learn to trust in God as he helps them continue to move forward and learn from their mistakes. But I hope it's not long before I don't have to see them played out on a daily basis. Maybe then my inner nag will finally be able to shut her mouth.
The truth is, if the kids were away at school I wouldn't know anything about their homework, research papers or tests. But since they're still sleeping in the beds they've occupied since they were three, I can't seem to help myself from becoming involved in their school deadlines, cleaning habits and romantic relationships. I know I pulled all-nighters at school, I know I dated a few questionable individuals, I know my bathroom used to resemble an outhouse. But there's a part of me that just keeps thinking I can save my kids from making these same mistakes. In addition to being a nag, I guess I'm also an idiot.
In many ways, I see great progress in both my kids. Now I just have to learn to trust in God as he helps them continue to move forward and learn from their mistakes. But I hope it's not long before I don't have to see them played out on a daily basis. Maybe then my inner nag will finally be able to shut her mouth.
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