An Introvert Expounds

Planning a wedding is a seriously stressful event. Seriously stressful. Holy crap. Location, food, attire, rings, flowers, cake, procedure, guest list. And we haven’t even gotten to the money yet.

Eegads, the money. Did I say, “Holy crap?”

I was feeling the pressure and I think Bonnie was, too. I was doing much of the planning on my own, using my mother and sisters as wedding gurus. We’d visited and decided on a venue and placed a deposit down to reserve our date of September 22. We’d picked out rings we liked that we could incorporate into the rings we already wear (Bonnie’s request). The guest list was pretty close to final at a little under 200 people (gulp!). Mom was in charge of flowers and the Italian cookie cake. Sister Lauri was helping find a dress and keeping the binder (the Wedding Bible, as I called it) with lists of everything that needed to be done and when. Dad put the deposit on the venue and was ready to help with the open bar. We’d found a judge to perform the ceremony. The stress was mounting, but we were hanging in there. Barely.

And then it all came to a screeching halt.

I’m still not quite sure why, what pulled on my brakes. My enthusiasm began to wane as my stress increased. Bonnie seemed to be participating from the sidelines (of course, I knew we were doing this mostly for me…she’d be perfectly happy skipping down to the courthouse and signing a piece of paper, so all the tradition was my request). I started to procrastinate even more than I usually do. Lauri kept trying to set up times to meet with me and I continually ignored her texts. I got a weird feeling in my gut and for a while, I wondered if there was something else going on with us, if we shouldn’t be getting married at all (after 17 years??? Come on…!). I started to panic. Quietly, but panic just the same.

Finally, one night Bonnie and I were sitting in the living room. Mikki was at practice. Out of the blue, I turned to Bon and blurted, “What if we grabbed my mom and dad and stepdad, my sisters, your sister and nieces, Mikki, Steff, Jackie and Julie and a handful of others, went down to the courthouse, and got married there?” Then I held my breath.

Bonnie’s instant response: “Oh, my god, I would love that!”  Me: “Yeah?” Her: “Yes! Could we do it on June 12?” (which will be our 18th anniversary) Me: “Why not?”

And just like that, it was better. I finally knew what the problem was. Everything was just too much. Too much stress, too much money, too much pressure, too many decisions, just too, too much. A weight seemed to immediately lift off both of us and we felt lighter and more relaxed than we had in months.

We’ve since done a little tweaking, but it’s been in tandem, very much a partnership. We want to get married here at our own house, hopefully in the back yard if weather permits. Yes, June 12 is a Tuesday, but it’s an important date to us, so I know the people who are able will be there. We’ll have the ceremony among a small group and send invitations to the rest that basically say, “We’re getting hitched. Come on by any time that night and have a celebratory drink with us!” We’ll have drinks and munchies (and I still want the Italian cookie cake, Mama!). And we don’t have to leave. And we don’t have to worry about the dogs. And Jackie and Julie live across the street, so guests can use their bathroom, too. And we won’t have a new anniversary date to remember. We’re still getting our rings. I’m still counting on my sister to help me find the perfect dress. The judge is coming here instead of us going to her. It’s going to be awesome.

I fly off to the GCLS the next day, so we’ve decided to honeymoon on an Olivia cruise the following February. I can’t even begin to describe how much better we feel.

I know my mother and sisters were a teeny bit disappointed, but I also think they understood. The bottom line is, it’s what works for us. And isn’t our wedding supposed to be about us?

In the Bad News Department, I’m trying to grow my hair out for my wedding and I’ve just cut my growing time down by three months. Crap…

Okay, the first thought out of the gate as I prepare to type up a new blog is this: if I got as many legitimate comments on my blogs as I do spam comments, I’d be one of the most popular women online. Wow. The Ugg Outlet really wants me to buy some boots.

I was trying to write today (working on my very first short story collection) and it’s just not happening for some reason. And Netflix is tempting me. So I promised myself if I updated my blog, I can reward myself with a movie before I have to run errands. And since I don’t have one specific thing to discuss, I thought I’d do another stream-of-consciousness blog and just say what’s on my mind regarding any given subject. It went over well the last time I was lazy and did it…

1. I don’t miss meat. I’ve been an almost-vegetarian for two weeks tomorrow, and I still haven’t had a meat craving. I also cut out most dairy (I do miss cheese) and I discovered that neither soy milk nor almond milk are bad. In fact, I kind of like them. I’ve cut out a LOT of refined sugar and I’m trying hard not to eat processed things. Big thanks to my friend, Lisa Ronquillo, for sending me guidelines and answering all my silly questions. She’s been an amazing help and I’m pretty proud of myself. I feel healthier and I think I’ve actually dropped a couple of pounds. And when Bonnie made bacon the other morning, I did not end up rocking and crying in a corner.

2. All that being said above, I am sucking in a big way at exercising on a regular basis. Oy. I’m doing things sporadically, but it needs to be more scheduled. I really need to do something about that before I become a fat blob of goo that just oozes around the house. I blame winter.

3. Yoga pants have ruined me for all other pants. I have jeans on right now, and though it’s not excruciating to wear them, they’re not nearly as comfy as my yoga pants. Which I will run upstairs and change into as soon as I finish this blog. Also, note to the people who continue to make mostly “low-waisted” jeans: most women have hips. I do. And low-waisted jeans and hips do not go together. The only thing cramming me into a pair of those does is make me look like I have a muffin top. It makes me hate you. And oftentimes, myself. Stop it. Make me a regular pair of jeans, would you? One that fits comfortably and gives me a cute ass? Am I asking for so much?

4. It’s never too late in life to make new best friends. I have a new friend who is wonderful, kind, understanding, a fellow writer, and we just click, we just get each other; I’m psyched to have her in my life (hi, Karin! *wave*). You’d think at my age, developing a precious new friendship would be difficult and time-consuming, but it’s not. It’s pretty cool. Who knew?

5. I have a love/hate relationship with winter. I like it, especially as it relates to Christmas. I think snow is beautiful and I adore the change of seasons. However, I hate being cold. I like to walk, but not when I’m freezing. I don’t enjoy walking the dogs when it’s cold; therefore, none of us is walking as much as we should be. Is it April yet?

6. Passion is an important part of life. Whether it’s passion for your job, a charity, your lover, whatever, it’s essential to a happy existence. This is something I’ve only recently begun to understand. If you have it, good for you. If you don’t, search for it. It’s there. You just have to find it.

7. Duncan has a huge bark for a little dog. Somehow, it suits him. And right now, as I type, he is running in circles around the dining room table, nipping at Finley as he runs by. Finley, standing still, barks at him at each pass. It’s adorable and annoying at the same time. I wonder which one I’ll end up killing first…

Now…what should I watch…?

Bett Norris says I don’t blog enough. She’s right (and I hate it when she’s right), so one of my goals this year is to be better about that. I know I’ve said it before, but this time I really mean it. No, really. I mean it. I swear.

How about that title? “A New Year, A New Outlook.” Is that cliche or what? But it’s true. I’m trying, trying hard, to tweak my outlook on life, even if it’s just a little bit. It won’t be easy, I know this. But I want to try. I’ve been ranting and raving lately (and if you follow this blog or my Facebook page, I’m sure you’ve heard it) about how much I hate my forties. I feel like my body is falling apart, my lady parts are starting to do weird things to my body chemistry, I weigh more than I’ve ever weighed in my life. I’m too old to be considered young and too young to be considered old. I’ve got a sixteen-year-old girl who’s now my responsibility, even though I never wanted kids. I have a puppy I was totally against (but with which I’ve fallen in love) and I mentally curse the kid and the wife every day because my life was so much easier with one dog. I work from home now and I am currently writing a short story collection that I want to finish by the end of April, but I feel like I’m dragging my feet. I’ve never felt like such a lazy slug.

That’s the majority of my Bitchfest material. What do you think? Could I be more negative? Is it possible for me to be more of a downer? Yeah, I thought so, too. And it’s not like me, believe me. I’m a pretty happy and positive person in general, so this is as unpleasant for me to feel as it is for you to read. As I was walking my dogs this morning in my dorky winter hat (I’ll have to post a picture), I got to thinking how absolutely ridiculous and ungrateful I’ve been feeling/sounding lately. I can’t believe nobody’s slapped me yet. So, let’s take those things and spin them into my new outlook. Wanna?

Yes, my forties have been rough, physically. I think they are for a lot of us girls. I’m not as active as I once was. I’m happier being home watching a movie or reading a book or cuddling on the couch with Bonnie than I used to be. I don’t get out as much because I don’t want to go out as much. And you know what? That’s okay. The bottom line is that life is short and I am healthy and I am HERE. I of all people should be painfully aware of that lesson. Life. Is. Short. We lost five loved ones in 18 months and only two of them were what we’d consider elderly. The other three were gone way before their time. I. Am. Here. That alone is something to be grateful for. So, I’m going to do my best to stop being so negative and so down on myself (negative energy is life-sucking…believe me, I have family members that I can only be around in small doses because they do nothing but complain and I do not want to be that).

First things first: I’m packing away the scale. Getting on it only depresses me and I keep reading that it’s not about the number anyway; it’s about how you feel. So, bye-bye, scale! Enjoy the bottom of the bathroom closet. Second, I’m going to do my best to take care of this body. It’s the only one I’m ever going to have and I think Bonnie would appreciate it if it was around (and healthy) for a while. So, no more meat, no more animal fat, lots of veggies and fruit, lots of whole grains, lots of water, lots of tea. And the occasional cocktail. (Come on, I’m not a saint.) Regular exercise. Lots of dog walks. I discovered recently that there’s a little-known park within walking distance of my house that has some incredible hiking trails. I’m going to hit that regularly just to be among the trees; I love trees. (I’ll post pictures next time I’m there.)

Okay, what’s next? Oh, yeah. The kid. You know what? It’s not so bad and it’s getting better every day. I think she and I are starting to get each other, mostly because we’re trying to get each other. We’re making the effort. I’ve done my best to stop raising my voice (which is what I do when I’m frustrated that she’s not hearing me) and she seems to be easing up on the snippy comments (which she makes when I raise my voice).  I think she’s starting to feel like this is home and I’m starting to feel like she’s our kid. No, we never wanted this, but neither did she, and the best thing for us all to do is make it work. Does she try my patience? Of course. But she’s sixteen; that’s her job, isn’t it?

The puppy. Duncan. He’s lucky he’s so damn cute because he’s an enormous hardhead and he’s relentless. When he wants something, he wants it and he does not give up. He exhausts me. But he’s also a cuddler, which Henry never was. And he loves his big brother, Finley. And he’s smart. If I can just be patient and keep working the methods that Laurie Salzler taught me, I think he’ll get it. This is really more about me than him. Deep breaths. That’s all I need to remember. Deep breaths, stay calm, don’t get frustrated. It’ll be okay. Plus? I love the little bastard.

The writing. It’s a part of me. It’s who I am. So feeling like I’m losing it a little sends me into a panic. But I have the collection mapped out. I know where it’s going and how. I’ve met some amazing fellow, local writers this year and Rachel Spangler lives within an easy drive, so I think I may need to connect more with women who do what I do. I’ve always sort of pooh-poohed writers groups because I’m not big on sharing my work until I’m sure I know where it’s going (and frankly, I don’t want it picked apart before I’m ready). But now, I think sitting down with like-minded women might help get the creative juices flowing and inspire me to work harder. In fact, I’m meeting my new writer friend for coffee this afternoon and we’re going to talk about our current projects (among other things, I’m sure). I’m looking forward to it.

There. What do you think? Is the new outlook worth it? Is it going to work? Like I said earlier, I don’t want to become one of those women who hits middle age and does nothing but complain. I’m a very lucky girl and I need to remember that. Life is good. Yes, there’s tragedy. Yes, there’s pain. Yes, there’s self-doubt and anger and worry. But there’s also love. And kindness. And humor. And beauty. And nature. And did I mention the love? Find the positive, my dear readers. It’s not always easy, but it’s there. Find it and hold on tight.

Life is good.

I love the spirit of Christmas. As I said in an earlier blog, I’m not at all religious. And I don’t for a minute mean to take away the religious meaning of the holiday; I totally respect it. I’m just saying that, even though I’m not a religious person, the spirit—the joy and love—of the season infects me every year.

Unfortunately, the commercialization of the holiday causes stress and that stress often overshadows the spirit. I end up running around like a crazy woman for a good six to eight weeks before the actual holiday. My lists are ridiculous and seem to get more so each year. Now that we have a teenager, there is much more to be done and so many questions to be answered. What gifts do I buy? Did I buy Mikki enough? Did I buy her too many? Did I neglect Bonnie’s gifts because I was so busy concentrating on getting enough for Mikki? Can I do all my shopping without setting foot near a mall? (Surprisingly, yes.) Who do we see when? Can we fit everybody into three days? Who will watch the dogs? Is it okay to let Mikki drive herself to Oswego? Am I a nervous mommy if I worry? Did I get enough stocking stuffers? Do I really need to make cookies if I’m pretty much the only one who’ll eat them? (The answer to this one is yes.) Do I have time to send out Christmas cards? (This one is a no.) If I don’t, will people think I forgot them? Did I tip the paper delivery guy? Is $20 enough to give to a man who does a great job, but whom I’ve never seen? How do I teach Mikki that Christmas isn’t about the presents you get, it’s about the love you give, without making her roll her eyes? Is there enough alcohol to get me through the next two weeks? (No, not in the entire world.)

As I’m sure my friend Fay Jacobs would say: Oy.

However, I have something I’m trying to teach myself (and I’m not very good at it yet, but I’m working on it). It is the simple process of stopping, taking a deep breath and spending a moment to remember how lucky I am. There are people who are totally alone on this most loving of all holidays. I am lucky (those of you who are religious would say I’m blessed) that I have so many people to love, so much family to visit, a home to decorate, and the ability to buy gifts to show my loved ones what they mean to me. In the chaos and nuttiness of baking and wrapping and shopping and decorating, it’s important to remember the love.

So, my holiday wish for all of you is that you find a moment. Just one; that’s all you need. Take a deep breath. Look around you. Take in the snow or the sun or the trees or whatever is near. In that moment, allow yourself to just breathe, hear your heart beat, your lungs fill, and let all the love and spirit of the season flow through you. Just for a moment. Remember the love.

Corny? Maybe. Sincere? Most definitely. Thank you to you, my readers, my friends, and my family for all the love and support you give to me throughout the year. It means more than you know and I hope to always be worthy of it.

Happy Holidays to you all from the bottom of my heart.

I’m not a religious kind of girl. Not even a little bit. I was born Catholic and I like to consider myself a “recovering Catholic.” I only go to church for weddings and funerals and I’m a little freaked out the entire time.

Because of this, you’d think Christmas wouldn’t mean all that much to me — and it doesn’t, not in a religious sense, anyway. (And don’t send me letters telling me I’m going to hell or you worry for my soul…I’m not worried, so you needn’t be either.) But in the spiritual sense? I adore Christmas. Adore it. And since you’ve all been so great about my list-y blogs, I’m going to give you another. Here are the things that make me adore the Christmas season, in no particular order:

1. I love that the majority of people are a little nicer in general. Nice rocks. There’s no reason not to be nice. Rude is so unattractive and so unnecessary.

2. I am by no means a rich woman, but I’m thankful that I had an extra dollar to put into the Salvation Army’s red kettle yesterday. And I’m thankful that there are people willing to stand in the cold and ring a bell for hours on end just to help somebody else. You bell ringers are inspirational.

3. I love wrapping presents. I don’t mind shopping (especially if I can avoid the mall and still get it done — thank you, online ordering!), but I really enjoy wrapping and putting presents under the tree. I have no idea why. Sense of accomplishment? Maybe. Seeing eyes light up when presents are noticed? More likely.

4. I love that we have a fireplace (albeit an artificial one…for now) over which to hang the stockings. I’m all about tradition, you know.

5. I love my grandmother’s calamari in the spaghetti sauce. We only have it at Christmas and it’s my favorite. And I love that my grandma is 92 years old and is still making it. And I love that half my cousins don’t like it so I get theirs, too.

6. I love snow. Not blizzards, but snow. And not -10 degrees, but snow. I’m a northeastern girl and Christmas without snow just doesn’t feel right to me. It snowed this morning (finally!) and the ground is white. Now, it feels like Christmas.

7. I love my crazy family. I have four sisters, nine cousins, and twelve nieces and nephews. All shapes and sizes, all personalities. I don’t always like some of them (and they probably don’t always like me), but I love them all and I realize how lucky I am to have them.

8. I’m glad Mikki is here with us this Christmas. It’s a rough time of year for her in general, and this is her first Christmas without either of her parents. I’m trying hard to make it a happy holiday for her, while accepting the fact that I probably can’t. But regardless, she’s here with us, she’s safe, she’s warm, and sometimes, she’s even happy. And we love her. I think that’s a pretty good list.

9. I have the most amazing readership in the whole world. Just about every day, I get an e-mail, a letter, or a Facebook message from somebody who was touched or affected in some way by my work. Nothing means more to me than those correspondences. I got an amazing one just yesterday (hi, Sarah!) that blew me away. You guys are the best and I couldn’t possibly ask for better.

10. I love Christmas movies and shows. I watch Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer faithfully every year, even though I’m now painfully aware of the fact that Santa is a sexist bigot. I love Elf. I love Scrooged (“It’s a TOASTER!”). I love It’s a Wonderful Life. I love the feel-good, love-everybody tone of them all. They make me mushy and I like feeling mushy.

11. I love my mom’s Christmas cookies. I’m going to help her make them this year. We’ll have wine and spend the day together (and then we’ll hide the cut-outs from my stepdad or he’ll eat them all). It’ll be great.

Mostly, the holiday season helps to remind me how lucky I am to have what and who I do. There are so many less fortunate than I am, so I send love and warm thoughts their way, donate what I can, help where I can, and hope that 2012 turns things around for them.

To all of you who have helped to make 2011 a wonderfully memorable year for me, I simply say thank you from the very bottom of my heart. I am forever grateful for your faith and loyalty and I hope to continue to be worthy of both for a long time to come.

Happy, happy holidays and Happy New Year with lots of love from me and mine.

~Georgia

My brain is all over the place today (thus the title of this blog). This is not unusual. My brain tends to work more like a ping pong table — or maybe a pinball machine is a better analogy — than anything else. I bounce from one topic to another to another to another with very little break in between. Believe me, it’s exhausting. My therapist says I’m “edgy.” Ya think?

So, today, I’m thinking about many things.

First and foremost: Why can’t I update this blog more often? It’s been over two weeks since my last new blog. Not good from a marketing standpoint. My publicist probably hates me. I’m a godawful blogger and I don’t know how to fix it. I have nothing interesting to say. If you make it all the way to the end of this blog, there’s a good chance you’ll keel over from sheer boredom. Beware.

Second, I’m happy to say that parenting is going well lately. Mikki and I haven’t had a screaming match in a couple of weeks now. Yay, us! I’m trying to keep myself from raising my voice when I get frustrated and she’s trying to be more respectful of the rules we’ve put into place for her. Dare I say we’re doing okay? I’m sure I just jinxed myself…

Third bit of trivia: Duncan’s favorite game is now putting his racquetballs underneath things like the coffee table or the liquor cabinet (which he is doing right now, in fact). In other words, things he can’t reach under and therefore needs my help for retrieval. I thought it was a fluke or accident until I started paying attention and noticed he’d go right back to the exact same spot every time and Oops! My ball is stuck again, Mommy! Help! He’s lucky he’s so damn cute. And I hate to admit that he’s growing on me, given that I DIDN’T WANT A PUPPY. (I have to keep saying that in order to cause the most guilt for Bonnie. I told her these are the consequences she must pay for setting me up. She’s accepted that. Because she knows I’m right.) I just made an appointment to have Duncan neutered in a few weeks. Bonnie sent me an e-mail asking if we should take a photo of his hairy little balls for our archives since, “they are sort of cute.”

Fourth in the ping pong game: we’re all winterized. While Mikki was at practice last Saturday, Bonnie and I cleaned up the garage, made room for the cars, mowed the lawn one last time, mulched the leaves. We’ve be so busy being new moms lately that it felt like we hadn’t done any house projects together in ages. It was nice. I now understand how important it is for parents to create something like date night so they can have time alone together. That’s been something I’ve had a tough time adjusting to. I’ve had Bonnie all to myself for more than seventeen years and now I suddenly have to share her. It’s been hard and though I’m very glad Mikki is with us, I don’t think there’s any shame in saying I miss the way things used to be. Bonnie always reminds me that we don’t get her for very long. She’ll go off to college in a year and a half and we’ll be sad and miss having her around. I think she’s right.

My creative life shouldn’t be way down in fifth place, but today, it is. I finished two short stories last week (one for an anthology and one that will be posted for purchase on my site very soon), so I’m feeling creatively accomplished. Which doesn’t happen often, so I need to bask. This also means I’m ready to start focusing on the next novel. I have the bare bones of an outline, but it’s time to sit down and really get to work. This part of the process always has me both excited and nervous. You’d think after eight novels, it would be different, but it’s not.

Sixth – I’m having lunch with my mommy tomorrow. That’s another thing parenting has done: sucked up all my time. I don’t see my family as often as I used to and I actually have to make appointments to meet up with them. So, Mom and I are going to lunch tomorrow, just the two of us. I can’t wait.

I’ve got a Twitter account now (@GeorgiaLBeers). It’s kind of boring, if you ask me. Is that bad? I need to learn how to use it properly and most effectively, I suppose. My friend Erin Cummings is fun to follow; she’s always witty. But me? *snore*

Okay. I think I’ve sufficiently vomited my thoughts onto the screen. If you’re reading this last line, bless your heart for staying with me. Next time, I’ll try to be more interesting. No promises, though.

I’ve said many times in the past that I need to keep my blog updated on a more regular basis. I’ve also stated that my problem with said task is that I don’t often have something to say that I feel is interesting enough that you all might want to hear it. So I stay quiet. Which doesn’t help me update my blog on a more regular basis.

See my dilemma?

So, recently, I saw a link to a tiny little article on my girlfriend, Sara Bareilles. It was called “25 Things You Don’t Know About Sara Bareilles” and it was fun and playful. Bonnie said I should do that for my readers. I thought it was a bit “me, me, me,” but then she asked if I enjoyed reading Sara’s list. I said absolutely and Bonnie simply gave me an expression that said she’d made her point, which left me with no choice but to proceed. My apologies…

20 Things You Don’t Know About Me

1.  I played softball and volleyball for 17 years. And I was good.

2. I changed schools for my senior year of high school.

3. When I feel the need to relax, I have my own coloring books and a giant set of crayons.

4. I like my dogs more than I like most people. They’re honest and they don’t judge or criticize.

5. Along the same lines as #4, I can watch countless numbers of people get killed in a movie, but if the dog is in any danger, I have to leave the room/theater/computer. I can’t do it.

6. Milk is my favorite drink in the whole wide world.

7. I had back surgery for a herniated disk three days before my 31st birthday and I have the sexy scar to prove it (thus, the end of my softball/volleyball days).

8. I have no fashion sense whatsoever.

9. I put myself through college.

10. When I was a kid, my parents couldn’t afford to get me braces for my teeth, so I got them when I could pay for them myself. I was 30. I didn’t get my very first filling until I was 43. (I’m kind of a freak about my teeth.)

11. I am the eldest of five daughters. I have a sister, two step-sisters, and a half-sister.

12. I had a boyfriend and a girlfriend in college at the same time because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.

13. My favorite ice cream is mint chocolate chip.

14. I hate math because I can’t grasp it. Numbers can frustrate me to the point of tears (ask my junior year trig teacher).

15. I watch the Oscars faithfully every year and do my best to see all the nominated films.

16. I laugh very easily. Bonnie says I’m a stand-up comic’s wet dream.

17. I think I have a touch of OCD.

18. I like to bake. I’m not very good at it, but I enjoy it.

19. If my mom didn’t make the best chicken cutlets in the entire world, I could easily be a vegetarian. I even like tofu.

20. I’d rather be alone than around other people. I’m not comfortable in a crowd. My idea of utter hell would be Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Or Mardi-Gras.

Okay, I think that’s more than boring enough. But at least my blog is updated. Yay, me!

I’m baaaaaaack!

Okay, I’ve actually been back from Provincetown for four days now, but I needed that much time just to recover. I had an amazing trip. And I was exhausted. The good news is, I have a bunch of photos to share as I give you a quick recap of the trip.

First things first: we took my new CR-V. I’m over the fact that it’s (as my Aunt Pat teased me) a “family car,” because I love it. No, it’s not sporty (like my last car). It doesn’t have a spoiler or a sun roof (like my last car), and I probably don’t look exceptionally cool in it (like in my last car). But it’s reliable, gets good mileage, has everything I need, and smells new. What more do I need? (And oh my god, how the hell old have I become???) Regardless, Bonnie and I were both very comfortable for our eight-hour drive and we made it in a tank and a half of gas, so we were happy girls.

We stayed at the Watership Inn, where we’ve stayed before, with our dear friend Steff (taker of most of the pictures). We got a little two-bedroom apartment for our time on the Cape and aside from Steff’s ceiling caving in on her, they were really nice accomodations. Bonnie made eggs one morning. Steffie made pancakes. I got a grilled cheese sandwich to tide me over between signings. All for free. Life was good.

Rachel Spangler will try to tell you all that I wimped out on the whiffleball game Wednesday night, but that is a big, fat lie. The game was at 5 and we arrived in P-Town at 4:35. There was no way I could get checked in, unpack the car, have a celebratory “we’re on vacation” cocktail, and make it to the game before 6. Don’t listen to Rachel. But you can look. Seriously, how cute are we?

Me and Rachel Spangler at the Harbor Lounge signing

My publisher (Bywater Books) took fantastic care of me. I had signings and readings scheduled all over the place; I hardly had time to do any shopping (eegads!). I was at Womencrafts most of the time, a great little shop that was celebrating 35 years in business. The owners were wonderful and they threw me a book launch party that rocked.

Me and Bonnie as I sign my very first copy of "96 Hours!" (See what I did there with the outfit and the book cover?)

I finally got to hold a copy of 96 Hours in my hot little hands. It’s my eighth novel and you’d think after all that time, the excitement would taper off, but it doesn’t. I was giddy.

Me and Michele, a reader who smelled so wonderful, I wanted to follow her around like a puppy

So many people popped in that night! It was great to see old friends and new faces alike. The weather could have been more cooperative (rain, rain, and more rain…and don’t get me started on what the wind did with my hair!), but it was tons of fun anyway.

Me and my secret crush, Fay Jacobs. Shhhh!

Earlier that day, I did a reading with some terrific fellow authors: Lynn Ames, Marianne K. Martine, Sally Bellerose, and the incomparably funny Kate Clinton. We had a full house and the attendees were gracious and kind.

Reading at the Fairbanks Inn

Speaking of Kate Clinton, I had the incredible priviledge of appearing with her and fellow author Sally Bellerose at the Crown & Anchor. The three of us had a discussion on “writing and life” in front of a crowd of over forty women. I was incredibly nervous (and honestly, was maybe a bit too serious), but I had boatloads of fun and Kate turned out to be more interested in my writing process than I expected. Here’s a link to a YouTube snippet of our chat.

http://www.youtube.com/user/SitStayDown?feature=mhsn

Overall, the trip was a huge success, but I’m glad to be home. I ate too much. I drank too much. I spent a day with terrible back pain from all the walking down Commercial Street/sitting in a car for eight hours. But I’d do it all again. It was our first trip to P-Town in five years, so we were due.  We missed our animals and our niece and I think they all missed us, too. Getting back into our routine has been blissful.

And…I’m so excited to tell you that 96 Hours is now available for purchase from Bywater! It’s a work I’m really proud of and I hope you enjoy it. 

Until the next blog…

I worry. I’m a worrier. I fret over stupid things. I worry about stuff over which I have zero control. I often focus on the wrong things in life (and by “often,” I mean “almost always”. I’m not sure where this behavior comes from, but I’m aware of it, and don’t they say that’s the first step to recovery? God, I hope so or I may be doomed.

I want to change my outlook. I want to concentrate on being happy, not on the things I need to change about myself, my life, or the things around me. Let’s face it, I have a pretty good life. I’ve got a wonderful wife who loves me, despite all my quirks; she thinks I’m beautiful. I work from home doing the one and only job I’ve ever loved and I’m modestly successful at it. I have a nice house, a healthy, loving family, and we were fortunate enough to be able to take in our niece when she needed to be taken in. I really don’t have a lot to complain about.

So why do I feel so miserable about myself on such a regular basis? Is it because I’m in my forties? I’ve heard they can do a number on a woman’s head. I’ve always been self-conscious about my weight and my appearance, but this goes beyond self-conscious and into some kind of never-satisfied obsession. I’m never happy with the way I look. I hate my body. I hate my hair. I have no fashion sense whatsoever. And seriously, where did these hips come from?! My least favorite activity in the entire world is shopping for clothes. I’d rather be forced to watch a marathon of “The Bad Girls Club” <shudder> than spend the day at the mall. In all honesty, I exhaust myself (and many of those around me, I suspect…)

We leave tomorrow for Provincetown where I will experience my very first book launch party. 96 Hours is being released this week and I’m terribly excited about it. And proud of it. And in honor of this, well, honor, I’ve decided to make a pact with myself because, frankly, I’m sick of myself. So, I’m shutting the f*ck up. How about that? No more wallowing in self-pity. No more whining about being fat or ugly or both. No more cringing in front of the mirror. Instead, how about more positive thinking? More smiling. More being grateful for the good things in life. More joy in nature, in my animals, in watching my niece grow, in the incredible friendships I have, in creativity. Humorous self-deprecation is fine, but being nasty to myself is not.

These are the things I know (and thank you, Jeanne, for opening my eyes): clothes are just clothes. Enjoying food is not a crime. Wine is made to be drunk. The world needs more hugs. Laughter really is the best medicine. The heart is what matters.

Wow. I’m wise today.

So, I’m beginning my fifth week as a full-time writer. First of all: wow! How does the time go by so fast??? I’m actually going to cut myself a little slack and say it’s really the beginning of my third week. The first two were spent preparing Mikki for school, shuttling her to the mall, Staples, tennis practice, orientation, etc., so it’s not like I had a chance to get myself into a writing routine. Nor did I have any time to myself. Then the new puppy came. Oy. But once school started, I was able to start fashioning some sort of schedule for myself. After three weeks, I may finally be getting the hang of it. I think.

Working from home takes self-discipline and self-discipline is not simple, especially for somebody as easily distracted as I am. Each day, I’m keenly aware of things like groceries that need to be purchased, laundry that needs to be done, rooms that need vacuuming, bills that need paying, lawn that should be mowed, dogs that need walking, weights that should be lifted, all that good stuff around the house that, sadly, will not take care of itself and will end up monopolizing the entire weekend if I don’t get it done. But…I’m supposed to be writing.

I’ve never written in long stretches, though I wish I could; I tend to write in spurts. An hour here, half an hour there. So, my goal has been to earmark my mornings (from about 7:45am, when I return from dropping Mikki at school) strictly for writing. Anything that needs to be done must wait until later, including my work out and my shower or answering any phone calls that aren’t Bonnie or Mikki. By noon, I’m allowed to go do whatever things happen to be pulling my focus away from the story.

It may actually be working. I’ve been pretty good the past week or two (well, mostly the past week). I’ve put my nose to the grindstone and cranked out 5 pages of my new project. Not great, but not awful. This week will be better. I do have to remind myself that once in a while, it’s just not going to happen and that’s okay. All writers have days like that. But I’ve promised to make myself sit in the chair for an hour or two when I feel like that. Then at least I’ll know I’ve made a respectable attempt. 

I’ve learned to reward myself as well. I love to stream movies on Netflix and I can get very caught up in that. So, I tell myself that if I can get to 1,500 words in whatever I’m working on, I can watch a movie in the afternoon. It’s been a decent incentive, but still, I’ll take any guidance I can get. If you work from home and you have a trick or two that help with your self-discipline, feel free to share in the comments below. I’m all ears.