Ask me questions

Husband and I have been looking for jobs. The last few months have been disappointingly quiet, as Husband has only received one phone call for an interview, and I haven't received even that.

Two days ago my voice mail held a message from the [retail clothing chain] I'd applied for just a few days before. She said she wanted to schedule an interview with me! Now, let's get really honest here, I have no work experience besides a couple of short stints at a shoe store and as a front desk agent at a motel (when my 8-year-old was only two). My resume is pathetic. Even after my friend Miken spiced it up for me with terms like "Domestic Engineer" and other awesome-sounding things I've done, no one wants to consider me for a job. Even call centers have been avoiding me.

So, gradually I have been applying for less and less awesome jobs, giving up the hope that someone will take a chance on me for anything that might pay me decently. Anyway, when I got called in for an interview, I was super excited. Someone might hire me!

Uh-oh. I forgot one crucial detail.

I 

SERIOUSLY

SUCK

IN

INTERVIEWS.

There's a reason I choose to primarily communicate through the written word. Impromptu answers to pre-made questions are my greatest downfall. Every interviewer I've ever faced has almost-politely excused me with a "better luck next time" approach to rejection. The few people who have been able to see through my nervousness have said things like, "Well, even though you clearly can't speak under pressure, we're going to give you a shot." My manager at Payless even told me I got the job because of the shoes I was wearing. (I can't blame her. They were gorgeous gold heels - Thanks, Krista!) During the interview she handed me a black and white BIC pen and asked me to sell it to her. I stared at it in disgust and said, "I... can't." I didn't mean to, it's just what happens! My mind says, "Be charming and give them the answers they want!" and my face betrays me! My face insists on showing exactly what my true emotions are, despite all my self-coaching and monetary desperation. My mind says, "Think! Tell them why they should buy that awful pen!" and my face screams, "I wouldn't touch that cheap pen with a ten-foot pole." (Just so we're clear, I am only a snob about writing tools. I'm not a judgmental freak about everything; only about the pens I use to write.) Needless to say, it was a damn good thing I was wearing those shoes.

I spent yesterday morning painstakingly preparing every inch of myself for the interview. I borrowed an outfit from Andrea that would make me look super-responsible, blew my hair dry WITH a blow dryer (let's face it, that happens so rarely these days, I had forgotten what it felt like), painted my nails, agonized over what color eye shadow would make me look most "professional" while still being myself (a difficult task), etc., etc. Husband looked at me like I was insane, because, well, interviews are his greatest talent. He could charm the pants off a homeless person in the dead of winter if he put his mind to it.

"Why are you panicking about everything like that?" he asked me, completely disregarding my track record. "It's all about confidence. Just smile and tell them what you're worth." (Does he know me??)

When I opened the door to [retail clothing chain store], I told myself, "Just smile and tell them what you're worth."  At least that helped me accomplish the smile part.

The woman interviewing me greets me by yelling out the door of her office, "What's your name?"
"Aubrey," I yell back, as confidently as I can manage.
"Ortega?"
She cranes her neck to see me better around the door frame.
"Yes," I confirm. Here it comes. This is the part where they get the "WTF? But she's white!" look on their faces, until they remember to wipe off the shock and confusion and act professional.
"Wait in there," she yells.

While I'm sitting at the gooey table in the break room, I'm obsessing over things like whether I should cross my legs and where I should put my hands. Is my hair all bunched up on my shoulders like it does? Maybe I should straighten it out... Stupid things like that.

Before she even sits down, she says in the most monotone voice I have ever heard, "Well, tell me a little about yourself and what you're looking for in a job."

Crap. What is there to say about me? I'm a fumbling idiot who thinks my straight hair and pink eye shadow will get me a job? Finally I tell her, "I have been home with my three kids on and off for the last eight years..."  I don't know what I was thinking starting with that. I guess I felt like I had to explain my lack of work experience. I winced, realizing I'd done it again.

Her blank, bored face cracks into suspicion. "You don't look old enough to have kids for eight years," she blurts out, tactlessly.

I knew it. Defensively I say something like, "Yes, well, I know, I look a lot younger than... well, I have three boys..."  You know, the usual lame response I give when people accuse me of being "too young".  "I'm twenty-six," I add, and she immediately starts reading the first question off her paper.

"What about your work experience has prepared you for this job?"

All I can think is what has happened to this woman to make her so completely emotionless? Her face is like stone, and I'm pretty sure her eyes are looking straight through me. Just as I start to say something about Payless, really enjoying my customer service job there, she cuts me off with the next question on the list. I'm sunk. She's already bored with me. I so don't want to go home and tell Husband that I botched another one.

"Tell me about a time when you had to deal with a difficult customer and how you resolved the issue."

This time I start right in. "I worked at Payless here in Utah, but I also worked at Payless in Kansas when my husband was in the Army. The women there would always come in looking for shoes size 10-14, women."

Her eyes go wide. "14? That's a BIG girl!" I'm busy hoping that cracking her stone mask is a good thing, and I continue.

"...I had to try to explain to them tactfully that there's-"

"No one carries that size!" she finishes for me.

"Exactly! So there was this one lady who came in yelling at me, calling me names, telling me how I wouldn't know anything because I'm short."

The woman's face turned back off like a light switch, and she cut me off with the next question. Apparently how I resolved the issue really doesn't matter, because she clearly has already decided to check the blocks and send me on my way.

Every single question and answer was that way. She read right off the paper and cut me off before I was finished answering her questions. As I was mid-sentence on the last answer, she announced, "Here's what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna offer you the job..." She spouts off the training times and location as fast as she possibly can, stands up, and walks out of the room before I have time to respond.

So, I got the job! Apparently she intended to give the job to any living, breathing human who walked through the door, but still! I have a job. And a discount at one of my favorite stores.

Maybe it was the shoes I was wearing....

Post-series blues

My husband was super sweet yesterday and picked up my book from my mom's house so I could finish the Hunger Games series. I'm going to go ahead and say I highly recommend it.

I'm extremely impressed with Suzanne Collins (previously one of the writers for one of my kids' favorite TV shows, Wow! Wow! Wubbzy! Nice, huh!) and I'm really glad she's an executive producer for the movie (The Hunger Games, not Wubbzy, lol). I love how she didn't try to rush the story at all, the plot and all the character development took its time to evolve, not trying to shove too much into one book. At the same time, the books clearly weren't written just to market the next book in the series (one of my BIGGEST pet peeves). She just had a story to tell, and she took it seriously and didn't leave anything out. All the little holes were patched up nicely by the end, but not in a "happily ever after" sort of way, which would have thrown the whole concept of the book a little off-course. Anyway! I loved this series, you should check them out. Like I've said before, I am not a fan of "trendy" books, but this book deserves it's "trendy" status.

At the end of a book I really loved, I always mourn it a little. I finish the last page as slowly as I possibly can, dragging out the experience just a little more, shed a tear (as I did with MockingJay), and close my eyes for a few moments, just soaking in the feeling of it. Then I have an overwhelming need to write. When I realize I've run out of book to read, I get a little sad because it's over. You can never experience a book the same way twice, that experience has past. I know it's kind of stupid, and I know re-reading can sometimes be an awesome experience as well... and I get to read more good books now, but I always feel a little bit of the post-series blues.

Today I break out the box of letters I've been trying to convince myself to read for months now, and I get down to the business of writing the second half of my novel. It's time to face it head-on and give it a chance to be something. Wish me luck... I'm going to need it; there are some parts of the past that are painful to re-visit. 

June story is up, and Look at me, I'm a homemaker!

I finally posted something on the writing blog! Go here to check it out: My Favorite Mistake. (While you're over there, go ahead and follow us, 'cause honestly, we could use the morale boost!)

This last week was spent almost entirely at home, and guess what, it wasn't because anyone was deathly ill! I didn't even spend the whole time reading Mocking Jay, which I really wanted to, btw! (In all honesty, the only reason I didn't spend it reading is because I accidentally left my book at my mom's house!)  I actually spent the time doing that housewife thing we talked about. I'm downright terrible at it, but when I set my mind to it, I can accomplish a few things. Once again, there are no pictures because I don't currently have a card reader, but I promise it's true! Hurry, come visit me, I have a clean house!

I mean it, hurry, because in a matter of hours my children will have it trashed again, and we'll be back to that awkward only-open-the-front-door-one-inch-because-it's-such-a-mess thing.

Well, back to the SaHM gig... there's a bit too much fighting going on for my taste!

I'm a writer. I'm a writer. I'm a writer. I'm still a writer... right?

I have this habit of considering myself a writer even when I don't write. It's as much my identity as is my brown eyes or the fact that I am my kids' mother. I don't legally have a middle name, but if I did it would have something to do with the fact that my hand is permanently attached to a pen.

Only, lately that pen has only been writing in a journal with a sparkly picture of Audrey Hepburn on the front, recording the day-to-day stuff. I did, in fact, put together a short story for the blog this month, which I haven't accomplished since March, but that hardly counts as keeping up with something I plan on making a career out of.

Today, as I finished reading a chapter in Catching Fire (book 2, the Hunger Games series), I suddenly needed to write. I sat down and penned out the final page of what will be my [hopefully publishable] manuscript. I have been searching for the end of the story for almost a year now, and haven't come up with a single word to contribute to it in months. As any writer can tell you, when it rains, it pours. I wrote as fast as my hand would move, never needing to pause on a word or thought, until there were several pages before me, ready to be inserted as the conclusion of my novel.

This has been a particularly difficult story to tell, as it relates so closely to my own life experience. I think I've been stuck in limbo with the construction of the book because I have not been ready - emotionally - to experience it again. I doubt it will be a fun process filling in the holes between the parts I actually have managed to put on paper, but I feel like I'm finally ready to do it. It's not a commitment to accomplish something, but an actual readiness to let the emotions flow. It's time to let it out and release it, come what may.

I can't tell you how high I'm flying right now. I was born to write... the days I spend not doing so are dark, difficult days. Hello again, Cloud 9... better get comfortable with me, because I'm not leaving until the final word is typed and printed. 

Example: What I Wish

A couple weeks ago I sent out an e-mail to all the women I know, asking for their help with a little book I'm putting together for my nieces as they enter junior high this fall. 

(I also put up a blog post about it, hoping for some other opinions.) 

I'm putting the submissions I have received together soon, so I just wanted to remind everyone who hasn't had time to throw something together yet that I'm going to put a final draft together in July, so the content needs to be sent to me (or even just a comment on a blog post) by June 30th. 

I can't tell you how much I appreciate everyone's help with this! (If you're looking for some inspiration on why we need to help the younger girls get through this stage in their life, read Reviving Ophelia, Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls, by Mary Pipher, PhD. It's really good and will even help you understand yourself better. I seriously recommend it.) 

Sometimes it's hard to figure out exactly what I'm looking for, but it's not specific at all! Just whatever comes to mind when you think of junior high and high school, and how you could have been helped to get through it a little smoother yourself, so I'm including an example.

Thank you for your help! E-mail or leave a comment if you have any questions! 

This was sent to me from one of my best friends, written for the little book I'm putting together, What I Wish. I'm posting it early because I love it so much and several people have asked for an example of what I'm looking for as far as input. I have received several great lists, a few short thoughts, and a wonderful comment on the blog post... this is just one example to get you started if you're thinking of contributing! 

A Letter to Teen Me

by Jenn Ingram

Dear Teen Me,

I wish there was a way I could hop in a time machine so that I could deliver this letter to you. Or just sit down and talk to you in person – although you probably wouldn’t recognize me. But, even though that’s no possible, I figured I would write to you anyway. Call it catharsis, call it wishful thinking, but I feel like if I write this letter to you, it will help you in some way, down the road. Are you ready? Ok, here we go.

First off, I want to let you know that you’re going to be ok. Everything ends up working out. I know that school is scary and home isn’t much better, but you end up doing just fine. But, I’ll also tell you that there were many things that you could have done or handled better during your teen years. This isn’t a judgment. I still love you tons, because let’s face it, you’re pretty awesome. But I’m going to give it to you straight. Ok?

Ok.

Let’s talk about school. In junior high you did pretty well. You studied and did your homework and got good grades. But then you started getting a little…lazy. Letting things slide so you could hang out with friends or watch TV or (as still happens now) finish that book you’re reading. And then you started copying people’s homework. It seemed like no big deal because it only happened now and then. And it was only junior high. But then you moved on to high school. Friends became more important, dating and having a job were introduced, and you got involved in a time demanding extracurricular activity. But, even then, for that first year you still managed to do really well. And then you started skipping school. Many different things contributed to this, but it all led to the same thing – falling behind in school. And then you started cheating more, so that you at least pass your classes. But you weren’t passing tests and teachers and parents were getting suspicious. So you just gave up, because you were so far behind that there was no hope of catching up. And before you even knew how you had gotten there, you missed almost three full months of school because you just couldn’t face how you’d let yourself fail. You did manage to pull yourself together, and with help from kind teachers and your step-mom, you were able to graduate. Barely. In what felt like a blink of an eye, you – bright and determined young woman that you are – went from a great student to almost a high school drop-out. And in your relief at just graduating, you didn’t even attempt college – something you’ve come to regret because it was an experience you deprived yourself of.

Now let’s talk about boys. Yes. Boys. Love. Romance. Crushes and first loves, jerks and nice guys – oh, my dear, you met them all. Junior high was easy, although it felt important at the time. You had crushes on several boys through those three years – some worthy, some not quite so worthy – and all the while you dreamed of the days when crushes could turn into boyfriends, because, as you and I both know, you’re a romantic at heart. Some of these boys played on the knowledge of your infatuation, leading to sad and humiliating moments that you wish you could forget. Others were much sweeter, and whether or not they returned your feelings, they were nice to you and you could continue being friends. The boys that were this way surprised you in the beginning, until you started to learn better, and then it didn’t surprise you so much that the cute but not quite so popular boys were always so much nicer than the boys who thought they ruled the school. By the time you entered high school, you knew to leave the pretty and popular boys alone because they were almost always jerks, and stuck to the cute boys who valued being a good friend over being popular. And you found some good ones. One, in particular, that made your heart blossom with the beautiful innocence of first love. But then that ended, as almost all first loves do. But the following heartbreak sent you in a tailspin that took you much too long to recover from. You lost yourself wishing for someone – anyone – to love you, and therefore forgot to love yourself. For the next two years, you dated a couple nice guys and a couple bad guys, and even allowed yourself to cross some sexual lines with a boy you barely knew. No, you didn’t have sex with him, but it crossed your mind. All because you were convinced that if that one boy didn’t love you, then no one could ever love you. And so you stopped loving yourself. But you leapt at any chance possible to be proven wrong – that some boy would find you pretty and worth his time. Even if you knew deep down that that boy wasn’t worth yours. Which leads us to our final topic.

You. That’s right, you. Your mind, your body, and your spirit. I’ll be honest with you, for most of your teen years you take yourself for granted. Constantly thinking that you needed to lose a few pounds and wishing to be shorter like your friends so you wouldn’t stick out so much. And, because you’re a teen girl and that’s what we do, you were always comparing yourself to others, thinking that this girl’s hair was better than yours, or that you’d be so much prettier with green eyes instead of brown. And then you always knew you were smart, but the harder school got, the more you convinced yourself that you weren’t as smart as you thought, and now everyone will think that too. As for your personality, there had been people who got you and embraced you but as they disappeared from your life, you convinced yourself that they were just being nice and that you weren’t good enough anymore. So you started to stifle your personality, hoping that would help, when really it just made you miserable. Really, your love and appreciation for yourself was pretty much non-existent.

Now, like I said, everything turned out ok.  You married a great man and you have a great family. But, you live your life with regrets that didn’t need to exist and the habits you created in your teen years have led to struggles as an adult. So, if I could hop into that time machine, I would tell you how you could have done things differently.

With school, you would have continued studying and doing your work yourself, so that cheating wasn’t even something you needed to think of. By making that a habit in junior high, then high school wouldn’t have been so hard. Also, while your friends would have remained important to you, you wouldn’t have allowed yourself to become so involved in their problems and dramas, when they didn’t concern you at all, so that you could go to school without feeling so much stress. And without that stress, skipping every now and again would have been fine (it’s just a part of high school) you wouldn’t have made a habit out of it. You would have gone to class and paid attention, so that you understood your classwork and could pass your tests. While you would have gotten praise from teachers and parents about your good grades, the most important thing is that you would have graduated feeling PROUD of all the hard work you put in and the doors that opened for you. You would have applied for scholarships and colleges, feeling anticipation and excitement to start a new chapter. And you would have gone to college with confidence; not because it was expected, but because it was an experience you didn’t want to miss. It would have been something you had chosen and made happen for yourself, and because you did well in junior high and high school, you knew you had the capability of doing well in college.

You would have left boys alone for the most part. Yes, you would have dated, maybe even dated a little seriously, but you wouldn’t have let yourself drown in the wake of relationships gone bad. You would have had fun seeing what was out there, and because your opinion of yourself didn’t depend on the interest of a guy, you would have loved yourself more as well. And that love and confidence in yourself would have reflected to others, attracting the good guys to you, rather than the guys who were on the lookout for someone who was broken inside. Dating would have been fun instead of desperate and you would have gone through high school with more positive memories of the opposite sex than negative.

And lastly, you would understand the awesomeness that is you. You would love your curves, knowing that even though your body type was different from your friends, it was still beautiful. You were healthy and capable of doing all the physical things you enjoyed; those few pounds didn’t matter. And when your friends told you they thought you were beautiful too, you would know that they were telling the truth. Because you played in smart in school, you would know how intelligent you were, and that you could take on anything, even if you had no idea what you were doing in the beginning. You’d be a little braver because you would know how you could do anything you put your mind to. And that crazy, nerdy, dreamer personality of yours would be something you were proud of. You know how fabulous you are, and if other people don’t understand then you don’t need them in your life anyway. And the people who love and embrace you for your personality will be the ones who will stick with you through everything; they are the ones that matter.

So, that’s it. I’m sure there are other random things we could talk about, but those are the big three that I wish I could come back and talk to you about.  And who knows, maybe I can still learn from you, even though neither of us can change the past. It’s you and me, baby. Till the very end.

I love your freaking guts. Always.

-Me

Where to find more of Jenn's work: 

Blog:  http://eatsleepreadandwrite.blogspot.com/

Writing:  http://onceuponadistraction.blogspot.com/p/jenn.html

Twitter: @jenn_ingram

Rocks are fun [but don't make good babysitters]

So, apparently rocks fill little boys with hours of joy and entertainment. Who knew?

This is convenient because I have finished The Hunger Games and - of course - I needed to start Catching Fire immediately after finishing the last page of the first book. And we all know in order to accomplish this task (reading an entire book and then some), my kids need to be occ-u-pied. Way to go, Librarian Lady! I think I'll need to write her a note and tell her what a wonderful service she's done me by providing my children with an awesome boyish distraction while I read a good book.

Yes, I know, I've gotten a little out of control with the reading. This is why I don't do it! I know that once you pop, you can't stop. One page always turns into 200, which turns into a whole book, which turns into two books, which turns into a series...

It isn't my fault.

Ok, maybe it is. I knew I was going to be sucked in like an addict once I picked up American Bloomsbury a couple of weeks ago. I'm not all bad, though... I went outside and snapped a few pictures of them playing with the blessed rocks! Now I can blog them (if I ever get my hands on a card reader) and pretend I was actively involved in the activity.

Oh.
My.

So (and I know this is going to sound like I made it up, but I swear this really just happened)... the very moment I finished typing that last paragraph (the one about pretending to be engaged, not the "oh my" one), I heard glass shatter on the back porch steps and had to jump to my children's rescue. Turns out someone broke the glass jar I gave them to keep their rock collection in.

Ok, ok, I've learned my lesson. Rocks aren't babysitters.

I'll go back to being a responsible parent.
...but that doesn't mean I have to like it.

What have we come to?

Read this article: Man Robs Bank of $1;  I seriously almost cried when I read this. The fact that our healthcare system is so bad that an obviously good man would voluntarily put himself in jail for some medical help just makes me want to hang my head in shame. It's about time we figure this stuff out.

On a more positive note, I started reading The Hunger Games. I hate "jumping on the bandwagon" of trendy things, but let's face it, things are trendy for a reason. Everyone told me how amazing the series was, so I decided to check it out. I'm hooked, halfway through the book, reading at every available moment. Right now I'm forcing myself to put it down and pay some attention to my house, as it has acquired that layer of clutter again that makes me crazy. Honestly, The Hunger Games is sobering me a bit. It's pretty harsh reading about a desolate, starving community that could very well be what we end up with when it all comes crashing down.

Last night while eating dinner with my kids, I marveled at the food we were eating. I'm no cook, but I whipped up a batch of spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread and salad in a matter of minutes, not once thinking of its cost. What would I do if I could not feed my little ones? (Absolutely anything I had to, I'm sure, but as it is, I do very little toward the cause.)

Husband and I took the boys on a hike yesterday in the mountains. It was a gorgeous day, around 75 degrees, and we climbed as far as we could before it became too dangerous for the boys to go any further. We saw bugs and plants and a stream (nearly overflowing, with the excess of water we have in Utah these days), and even went adventuring in a cave. Unfortunately it was an impromptu trip, so I didn't have my camera with me, but it was completely gorgeous. Suddenly I remembered: exercise feels awesome! How did I forget? So I'm back on the course, and took the boys out for a walk again today. It's so strange how our bodies need the sun and the burning muscles so badly, but we crave the couch and the TV instead. It changed my whole mood and outlook on life when we were up there breathing fresh air... I definitely want to keep my kids in the habit of adventuring and using their bodies productively, so we'll be keeping up the tradition. Even Max loved it, since Steve climbed the whole thing with little Max on his shoulders. 

This morning I took the boys to the library, thinking we'd run in and grab a few new books, return the old ones, and maybe I could even find a new Anne Tyler or Vampire Academy book to bring home. It turns out it was Rock Day at the library, and there were a ton of kids and parents piling in with empty egg cartons. Of course I couldn't deny them a learning opportunity like that, especially one that comes with egg cartons! So we committed to the presentation, which Max squirmed and wriggled and squealed his way through. At the end the librarian unveiled a whole table full of buckets of rocks - beautiful ones, each a different kind of rock - and announced she would be giving each of the kids 12 different rocks to take home. We didn't even know it was Rock Day, but we came home with 3 amazing rock collections... just in time, too, because recently Asher has become extremely interested in collecting pretty rocks on our walks/hikes. 

It's turning out to be a pretty great week around here. What are you doing with your summer "vacation"? 

Dad

 Being a dad isn't easy for Husband. But he does an amazing job at it anyway.

Things that remind me of my dad: 

Me, my baby, & my dad - Christmas 2010

My dad read this to me as a kid, for some reason it sticks out the most.

My dad's second home for 4 years

Something broke? No problem. Call Dad.

My son said, "Are you Bob the Builder?" one day, getting into my dad's truck full of tools. I still think he should have said "yes".

My baby does the sign for "grandpa"

Too much fun to stop for pictures

We've been back from Kansas for almost 2 1/2 years now, and already it's feeling like a distant memory. I miss my house and my income, and one or two friends (Jen, that's you), but I've gotta tell you, I don't miss much else.

Lisa & Jen, my next-door neighbors in KS

Our friend Adam, definitely miss him too!

My Kansas house

Kansas and I were never made for each other. I was made for city lights, entertainment, fun, family, friends, constant interaction...

Kansas, on the other hand... well, it is meant for wide open spaces and combine derbies. (No joke, I went to what I thought would be a rodeo and ended up watching gigantic tractors run head-on into each other, complete with an announcer and cash prizes for the tractor that fell apart the least. I had absolutely no idea there was such a thing, and still I can hardly believe it myself.)

Besides my family (which is large and pretty close-knit), and having babysitters for important events, the thing I missed most was having girlfriends to spend my time with.

Jamie with Andrea's niece & my baby

Andrea loves my babies

Andrea, me, Jenn at Andrea's bachelorette party

Tonight is Girls' Night for Jamie's birthday, and I'm totally psyched. I don't think I will ever take friends for granted again, after the time I spent without any.

Now these girls are my writing partners, as we all have the same dream: to find our names on the binding of a book on a B&N shelf someday. Our schedules only align about once a month (if that), and now that two of us are parents and the other two are career women, we have to squeeze in time together after the kids go to bed and before we collapse from exhaustion... Most of the time we communicate through the writing blog or e-mail, and Jenn & and I (SaHM's) text almost constantly about every random thing under the sun (but mostly about how we both suck at being housewives). 

Jenn & Jamie

Me & Jamie

These girls are the kind you keep for a lifetime, and I just can't tell you how happy I am to have them back. I've only known Jamie for a year and a half now, but Andrea and I have been friends since 5th grade (whoa, maybe I shouldn't admit that it's been 16 years since then!) and Jenn and I have been friends since 7th.

Now that I think about it, it's pretty weird how these are the only pictures I have of us together, after so long... we definitely need to update! We rarely remember to bring a camera AND use it, as we're generally just having fun talking about obscene things and laughing for hours until we are forced to sleepily drive home. :)

What do you say, Ladies? Is tonight picture-worthy?

Hallelujah!

After three long months of being forced to find other entertainment, we finally have the Internet at home! I have missed you, Blog!

...But do you know what I discovered while I was away?
Reading!
(I guess I should say re-discovered.)
I even went to the library.
(Somewhere along the way I got the idea that the library was for kids...)

My dad gives me lots of recommendations, and I generally just don't read them because I've resigned myself to motherhood, which of course means there's no time to read. Then one day, in the midst of a messy house and one of my completely frazzled, my-life-is-hard pity parties, I got rebellious and picked up a BOOK.

I felt like I was breaking rules, sitting there in my pajamas reading a book, surrounded by work I should be doing. I'm the mom! I don't get to just sit here and enjoy myself! There's work to be done, and it's my job...
and I am not.doing.it.
I seriously felt like a rebellious teenager or something. (Go ahead, laugh. I know it's ridiculous!)

I read American Bloomsbury by Susan Cheever.

This book was sitting on our shelf because it was required reading for one of Steve's college courses last year. He had read it for class and told me how amazing he thought it was, so I had been meaning to read it for ten or eleven months now. The book is about the American classics' authors: Louisa May Alcott, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Margaret Fuller, Nathaniel Hawthorne and Henry David Thoreau. Apparently they were all friends, who sat and ate and talked together for hours and hours, living just across the street from each other! It was a fascinating read, all about how they interacted and cared about each other.

Oh yeah! I love reading!
Somehow I had forgotten.

Anyway, my dad suggested once that I should read Anne Tyler. He said she's a master at character development, and he believes she would be very similar to what I'm going for as a writer. At the library, I discovered that Anne Tyler has almost an entire shelf to herself - apparently she's done a lot of writing! I picked up several books before I decided on one, The Amateur Marriage.

I was drawn to it because the teaser said it was about a mis-matched marriage, rushed into because of the war (WWII), in which two completely opposite personalities struggle to make marriage work.

I don't think I need to do much explaining as to why this was appealing to me. ;)

It was absolutely inspiring, the way she was able to convey such natural emotions and everyday thoughts and experiences in an intriguing, heart-wrenching way... the character development was incredible, and the story was eerily close to my own life. More than once I had to put the book down and breathe before I could continue reading, because it felt so real and emotionally-charged.

Now that I am finished with that serious, "grown-up" book (as Jenn calls them, lol), I'm diving into a YA series that Jenn and Andrea (you know, those crazy girls I write with at OnceUponADistraction!) have been raving about for a year now, Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead. Last year Jenn & Andrea traveled to Portland to meet Richelle Meade, so I figured there's got to be something to it!  I'm about halfway through the book now (I'm not a very fast reader), and I'm finding it a wonderful contrast (recovery period) from the intensity of Anne Tyler. I think I'll keep up the "grown-up", young adult book pattern, just to keep myself from sinking into the depression I'm prone to.

Andrea, Richelle, Jenn

Well, I'm off to do all the important (boring) stuff I've been waiting to do on the Internet... pay bills, look up phone numbers, check bank acct., etc.

And read, of course. :)