Chapter 2

Chapter II

“Here Comes Santa Claus, Here Comes Santa Claus right down Santa Claus lane.” They were about three hours into their five hour ride.  Alex had slept for the first two hours next to Diesel and had woken up in great spirits.  After stopping at Mcdonalds, Nico had found a holiday station and they had been singing ever since.

“Mom, do you think that grandpa really is gonna have dinner ready for s?”

“I don’t know, baby, why?”

“I don’t think I could eat another bite and I don’t want to be rude.”

“Oh sweetheart,” Sam turned around and looked at alex. “I wouldn’t worry about that.  He’s just gonna be so happy to see you!”

“Do you think so?”

“Of course sweetie! He’s so excited!  He got the downstairs ready just for us!’

“and Tante Leena and Uncle Jake are there?”

“ummhmm.’

“And Jenny, Amanda, and Sean?”

“Yes, your cousins are there too.”

“And we’re all gonna live together.”

“yes, my darling, is that okay? Remember we talked about this?  We’re all living at grandpa’s house until we find a place and Tante Leena and Uncle jake are waiting for their house to get fixed.”

“so that means nine of us in one house.”

“Whew.” Nico said under his breath.

“Yes,” Sam shot him a look. 

“I like it!” alex said suddenly. “It’s like teta’s Laura.”

That got Nico’s attention.  He looked at sam and then chuckled. “Oui, c’est vrai.” Nico was trilingual and so was Alex due to the fact that his dad was and also because of the school.  Sam was the only one in the family who wasn’t fluent in Arabic, French, though she did a pretty banging job with the English language.  She had studied Arabic in order to make conversation with her in laws, but she was pretty hopeless with French and Arabic.  Alex, of course, took to it flawlessly and he and his dad often had conversation which Sam understand every tenth word.

“See?” Sam said to both of them, meaning two totally different things.  She knew that Nico was not thrilled at the prospect of staying with her father.  In dubai they had owned a beautiful villa in the best part of town and the prospect of sharing a house with another family and her dad, just wasn’t high on the top of Nico’s list. But sam had convinced him to wait because it would’ve been too difficult to rent something from overseas.  And truthfully, she didn’t trust anyone one else to choose a place for her.  She had to see it herself.  As well, she had spent the last five christmas’s with Nico’s family and was looking forward to surrounding herself with her own.

Her sister was at her dad’s house and her brother lived down the road.  There were plenty of cousins for Alex to play with and she couldn’t wait to catch up with her siblings and their partners.

A short hour later, the three pulled down the private lane to sam’s dad’s house.  She sighed.  The house was at the end of a cul de sac and was a sight to behold.  The windows were light with range lights, the trees outside adorned with white lights and the driveway was filled with cars, a sight Sam always loved.  She jumped out of the car before Nico had even stopped and ran up to the front door.

“Merry Christmas!” She burst in and was greeted by her two nieces.

“Auntie Sam!” Jenny flung herself into Sam’s arms.

“Melly Sismas!” Amanda toddled over.  She was three.

Sam lifted her up and gave her a kiss.

“cold.” Amanda said and rubbed her cheek.

Woof! Diesel bounded in excited by all the commotion.

“You have a dog?” jenny patted him.

“doggy!” Amanda said and tried to climb on his back.

“Hi.” Alex stood in the doorway looking slightly unsure of himself.  He looked so different than towheaded cousins.  Olive complexioned, dark, curly hair and almond shaped eyes, he was a perfect combination of his Lebanese father and Filipino mother.

“Alex!” Jenny stood and gave him a huge hug.

“X!” Amanda copied her sister and hugged him too.

Alex looked surprised but then he busted out into a grin and hugged his cousin’s back. 

“Wanna see the tree?  I think there’s some stuff under there for you!”

Amanda tugged on his hand and the three of them went down the hallway just as Sam’s dad poked his head around the corner.

“Who’s that heating the outside?” he boomed.

“Dad!” Sam ran to her father and he enveloped her into a huge hug.

“Welcome home, Sam,” he kissed the top of her head.

“Merry Christmas, sir,” Nico said from behind Sam.

“Sir? Who’s sir?  I’ve told you a thousand times, Nico, it’s James.”

“Merry Christmas, James,” Nico said.

Sam and her dad both said, “Thanks!” and they laughed.  Having the same name had always been a point of pride for Samantha.  She loved that even though she had been adopted and was the youngest of all five kids in her family, no one else had her dad’s name.  Not even any of the boys, which had always been a mystery, but her mother had always said that they were saving the name for her.

            “Well, we should probably get all that stuff out of the car,” Nico said.

            Sam looked at her husband and she could see that he was exhausted.  She went over and hugged him. 

            “Baby, you’ve done such a phenomenal job today, thank you so much for bringing me home.”

            Nico brightened and hugged Sam close.  “I’m so glad you’re happy.” He held her tight.  Things had been so strained, it was a huge deal for Nico that Sam looked so happy here with her family.

            “Why don’t we call the boys and get you guys unpacked?” Dad asked.

            “yes, dad, that would be brilliant.  We are exhausted.”

            “Done.  Why don’t you two go take a load off?  Fires on and we’re gonna order your favorite tonight! We’ve been waiting.”

            “what? Naru?” Sam smiled, she got a little obsessive about food, a trait she shared with her dad.

            “Of course!” he laughed. 

            At that Alex looked over at her.  He had supersonic hearing.

            She smiled at him and then said, ‘dad, why don’t we order in, that way, we can eat whatever we want and have leftover.  Besides, we can’t really eat there anyway.”

            “Sounds great.  I’m going to call your brother.  He was planning to stop by to say hi, but I’ll see if he can come over now to get your stuff downstairs. Your sister and Jake should be home soon.”  Sam looked at his watch and then reached for his phone.  “You two go relax and I’ll take care of everything.

            “thanks dad, sam said gratefully.  She took Nico’s hand and joined the kids in the TV room. 

Chapter 1 of Perfect: A Novel

PERFECT

Chapter I

“There he is!  There’s Diesel!” Alexandre, Nico, and Samantha turned as they watched two men gingerly roll out the gigantic dog crate that had contained our energetic dog through the 15 hour flight from Dubai.

‘Do you think he’s okay?” Alexandre, peered up at his parents from beneath the brim of his new winter newsboy cap.

“Of course he is!” Nico, replied, but he hurried after Alexandre.

“Diesel, Diesel! Are you okay?” Alexandre tore across the crowded baggage claim area and skidded to a halt in front of the rate.  He dropped to his knees and looked through the front.

Then Samantha saw a black snout poke out of the front. 

“He’s okay!  Can we let him out?” Alexandre asked.  He was already lifting the latch.

“Hang on, Habibi, let’s just let him settle for a minute.”

“But Dad, he probably has to….” Alex opened his eyes wide, “you know!”

Nico laughed.  “You’re probably right. Okay.” And he bent down and opened the crate. “Hey buddy! How are you?”

Diesel flew out of the cage with a happy yelp. 

“Diesel!” Alex wrapped his arms around the big German shepherd and nuzzled his face deep in his fur.

Diesel wriggled out from his embrace and came trotting towards Sam.

“Hi my baby boy, how was your flight?’ Samantha dropped to her knees and gave Diesel a hug while Nico snapped a leash onto the collar. 

“Why don’t the two of you take him outside and I’ll look out for our stuff.”

“Okay Dad!” And Alex grabbed the leash from my hand and started for the door.  Diesel scrabbled after him.

“Alex, wait!” Sam called out after him.

Nicola grabbed Sam’s hand, “he’s okay.”

“Yes, but..”

Nicola bent down and kissed Sam softly, “Welcome to America?”

“Welcome to America, Nico!” Nico had been to America plenty, in fact he had attended Northeastern University, but this time was different.  This time, the family had decided to make a go of it in America, since they had lived in Dubai for so many years.  Samantha had pushed for it, for herself but also for Alex, who she wanted to be brought up with an American education.  Nico, having become frustrated with his position at work had decided if they didn’t move now, it would be never and he wasn’t too keen to deal with Sam’s wrath as she had been pretty miserable the last year. 

“And Merry Xmas, my love,” Nico whispered and pulled Sam closer.

“Merry Christmas, Nico.” Sam replied.  She loved her husband more than anything and hoped this move was the right one.

She gave him another kiss and followed their son out to the sidewalk. He and Diesel were on a tiny piece of grass past the two very busy car lanes.

“Alex! What are you doing?” Sam was a little overprotective.  Especially considering Alex had only been in the USA a few times and the airport was a little too busy for Sam’s liking.

Alex looked up, “Duh Mom, I’mm helping Diesel go!”

“Yeah, but how did you get all the way across there?”

He rolled his eyes. “Aww Mom, stop treating me like I kid!  I’m seven now!”

“I know, I know, but you’ll always be my baby.” Sam gave him a quick hug just as Diesel did his business.

“Oh Mom, do you have a bag?” Alex patted his pockets.  “I forgot my backpack inside.”

Sam dug into my mammoth bag and pulled out a couple of plastic bags from their old grocery store Choithrams.

“Thanks, Mom.” Alex bent down and cleaned up after Diesel, wrapped up the bag, threw it in the trash, took out some antibacterial hand wipes, wiped his hands and then said, “Let’s go get our stuff!”

He crossed the street carefully and then went inside to meet his father.  Samantha’s eyes welled up.  It had been a tough month and Alex had come through as he always did.  Sweet, tough, strong and always responsible.  He was so like his father!  A man in a little boy’s body.  The move had been a major strain on the marriage, in fact it was the only way that Samantha could imagine that they would make it.  She had been trying to find a job for the last year or so and had only been able to dredge a job in real estate which had been a courtesy, really as the owner was a golf partner of Nico’s.  She had hated and really wanted to be a teacher, but found that because she didn’t have the background, no school, even in the “wild west” of Dubai was willing to hire her.  Thus, why she pushed so hard to return to America, so she could go back to school, get her certification and try to find some purpose in her life.

 As Sam walked through the doors, holiday music filtered through the speakers.  She was so happy to be home and especially during the Christmas holiday.

“Sam! A little help?”

“Oh my God, Nico, is that everything?” Nico was standing behind two carts that were piled so high, she couldn’t even see the top of his head.

“I think so, we’re just missing you trunk.” Nico poked his head around the pile of luggage.

“Which trunk?  My Louis Vuitton one?”

“Yes, my darling,” Nico replied drolly, “Your LV trunk.”

Sam hurried over to the place luggage slide and peered anxiously up at the hole above.

“Oh Nico,”

“Sam, it’ll come don’t worry.”

“yeah, Mom, don’t worry, and besides, didn’t Auntie Michelle get you that at Karama anyway?” Alex laughed to himself as his dad joined in.

“Uck.” Sam replied.  It was true.  Karama, was a label junkies dream, the equivalent of Canal Street in New York city, all the ladies in Dubai, on the sly, bought luggage, bags, hats etc, for traveling.  They woldn’t be seen dead carrying a fake in town, but out of town, for some reasons was fine.  Thus, Sam’s best friend’s Michelle’s reasoning on her very useful Bon Voyage present.

Fifteen minutes later, just as Sam was about to lose it, a new tumble of luggage came sliding down the shoot.  Among them, Sam’s fake Louis Vuitton trunk.  She breathed a sigh of relief and as Nico restacked everything to put it on the bottom, she called over to Alex who was playing with Nico across the way.

“Ready to see Grandpa?”

“Yeah!” he said.

Alex had only met Sam’s side of the family a few times, the last of which was at Sam’s mother’s funeral a year ago.

 “Okay, guys, we need to go get the rental car.”

“With all of this?”

“I was thinking that you guys could stay here, I’ll run and get the car and come back and get you.”

“But I wanna come with you, Daddy,” Alex whined.

Sam looked at him in surprise.  Nico looked at Sam over Alex’s head and mouthed ‘tired.’  Sam nodded.

“Okay, Alex, why don’t you go with Daddy and I’ll stay here with the stuff and Diesel.”

“Okay.” Alex said.

Nico nodded and he said, “We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

All I can say is I TORE through the 678 pages of this book and realized around about page 600, that this book was not going to end at the last page.  Really???  What torture!!!  To not end the story at the end of this book--was like a smack in the face--which I guess I sorta liked.  It was a smack because I feel like I had put in my time so I should get the payback of having the story be complete--yet, the idea that there was more, was delicious, so even though I definitely pouted and moaned and complained to anyone near enough to hear--I guess, I suppose, I fine with there being more story to read--if only the author would HURRY UP, please!!!

I got the recommendation for this book from GoodReads.com which is like, my ultimately favorite website right now.  It was based on all the other Fantasy books I read.  The inside of the flap read something like, there is a PhD student studying in Oxford who happens to be a witch.  Done and done.  No more needed to be said, I was sold.

And the miracle of completing this Book 1--it actually inspired me to complete my own Chapter 1 of my memoir/ book/ something that will be combined with my NaNo book from a few years ago, called Perfect.

I think I might post a few chapters up here and see how they go. 

I need to seriously get some of that going--I gotta have manuscripts complete by August!  Like, I'm pretty sure I said 10.  10 complete pieces of writing.

I should also put up a little bit of Swerve.

And I have decided to send out Isabella in Threes again. 

I gotta just take the leap.

What is 36 Anyway??

I'm not really sure what got me started thinking about this, other than I have been 36 for a 11 days now and I'm not sure how it feels exactly, but it may be important for me to start thinking about what it should be.

Being.

I think about that a lot.  Probably more than I should--as in, I think about how I am "being" and am I existing in a manner that makes me happy.  If I were to ask myself that right this very second, I think the answer would be....yes?  And no.

Yes, because I am living a much better lifestyle than I was last year at this time, at least as far as stress level and healthy living and feeling good about myself, I think.  Last year, I was absolutely miserable.  Working in a place that was chaotic with people that I despised.  I hated the environment and felt stuck because I knew I had to complete my year for practical reasons like, I needed a job and I had to finish my fifth year and I didn't have anything in place if I quit.  As well, I didn't want to leave my class, particularly my 7th grade class because I was one of the only competent teachers they could depend on to actually teach them new skills.

This year, I'm feeling a bit like PTSD because I am still unwrapping my mind around the horrible mind set that I had acquired over the five years of working in such an unbelievably ridiculously evil environment.  As well, this year, some personal things (and not good ones) have taken center stage--so while I am happy, thrilled even with my current state of employment, my personal life is in tatters, but currently, HOPEFULLY on the mend.

Thus explains, the 'no' part of my answer.  I won't get into details, because that's way too personal for a public forum, but the last 3 months have been complete and total hell, but I think I've done a relatively good job of putting up a really good front and keeping the stuff private.

Yes, current state of existence: happy and sad, but outlook is optimistic.

So, back to what it means to be 36.

When I think of 36, I think about my parents already having been married for decades and having 5 kids to care for and parent.  I think about what it must have been like for them to have not just themselves as individuals, but also have a marrriage AND have 5 children who needed love and guidance.  In comparison with that, I have one prior marriage, one pending, and no children to speak of.  Even as I write this, I find my stomach tightening at the very idea of bringing a child into this world at this age of mine. (because I'm really not ready)

And then I wonder, if my parents could do all of that by the age of 36, what is going on with me?  What the hell have I been doing all this time and what does it mean?  Am I behind?  Am I more modern?  Am I a failure, or a success because I am, perhaps, waiting to make sure I make all the right decisions?  I'm approaching 40 and what do I have to show for it?  Sure, I have 2 masters degrees and I have a lot of work experience and have traveled, blah blah.  But really, what do I have to show for these 36 years I have tread upon this still green earth?

Have I made a life bond?  Have I created life?  Am I contributing in a positive way?  And what about later?  What's the plan, Stan?

I have loads of plans, that's for sure, but which one will actually be executed?  Which one will see the light of day?  And why the h-word am I not actively pursuing those goals and dreams every single second of every single day?

Why can you often find my cold, stone chillin' reading?  Or making lists?  Or cooking?  Or traveling?  Isn't there that saying, life is what happens when you're off making other plans?  Is this the life I want?  For now and for later?

For now, this is good and I definitely said, this year was going to be a year of peace--and relaxation.  I knew I needed this year to just sortof be me--to rediscover me and figure out where to go from here.  So, in essence, if what I've said in the last few paragraphs is true, then I guess I am doing what I said I would, but then, why the impatience?  Why do I feel like I'm not doing enough?

Mostly, I'm sure, because of my general dissatisfaction with myself---that's typical of me though, I'm never satisfied with me, but also, it is important to make sure I'm prepared and will be able to make the most of my opportunities when they hopefully come knocking on my door.

So, 36, huh?  Aside from writing, reading,  exercising, cooking and pursuing things that make me happy, I think that is what this year is going to be about.  Happiness.  Relaxation.  Peace. Love. Fulfillment. Health. Writing. Cooking.  Family. Friends. etc.  And that's full circle to the first entry I wrote in this blog.  This is what I want to be doing this year.  This IS it.

So, I guess, it doesn't matter about what everyone else is doing.  I guess as long as I'm doing the things that I want to do, it's all good--THIS, is my 36.

I am obsessed!!

A fellow VISTA member recently lent this to my at one of our trainings and like Ender's Game, I am completely caught up in the ideas/ themes of this series.

It is similar to what I am writing about in my own novel, of which, I think I have finally come up with a decent scene.

The girl sits on the double stairs that leads down to the grubby garage smoking a cigarette.  A man suddenly appears in the darkness causing her to freeze for a second and then scream.  She leaps up the two steps an reaching for the door which she flings open and slams shut, locking it with a flimsy lock she knows will break easily.  What the fuck was that? She said to herself, the man looked completely out of place in the cold November night.  Barely dressed, his muscles tan and bulging.  She quickly dialed her phone, 911.

Anyway, that is a possible first paragraph and the MC's first interaction with her first member of the tribe, Forest People.

And then I've been really thinking about the first scene for 'Half Price Hope' which is going to be a romantic scene between Mary and Peter and the brilliant part of it is that they hook up at their X-mas office party, which as the audience will know, is their bosses birthday.  Which is the action that brings on his wrath, and will give a good time frame, a week, til the new year, when they have to unload all of their products or He will bring on the end of the world--at last, having lost His state of grace and generosity.

So, while these last few days have been seemingly unproductive as far as actual writing, things are mentally slipping into place and scenes are "revealing" themselves.  All I need to do is actually write them.

It would also be sortof nice if I could focus on just one of these pieces and finish it, but clearly, I can't focus on just one thing.  That would just be too easy! ARG.

That last post sucked!

I did, I know it did and I will be better next time.

But not now because today, I am going to enjoy my day with my fiance.

And tomorrow, we are going to the Magic Castle for his birthday!!!! So will have load and loads to write about, I'm sure.

I also want to whine and moan very soon about how much I am SUCKING at NaNoWrimo this year.

Such a procrastinator.....

A recipe revisited!

I first must note, that I have recently been made aware that some of my friends and family are ACTUALLY reading this blog--which has sortof changed the entire game for me because before it was just me sortof hollering into an empty canyon.  It was me just going off ---or on....and on....about whatever struck my fancy with some faraway goal of wishing someone would read me.

This was sortof like an online journal.  Something  between my own journal and something between what I would post on facebook.  Now, it's not like this should be a surprise that some people have actually taken a gander at this, because I did add the website to my email signature in the hopes that people WOULD click and read it, but the difference between wishing and reality is--as we all know, vast.

And now that I know people might check it out on occassion, it is THRILLING but also TERRIFYING!  I mean, OMG.  People are actually reading what I'm writing.  And what does that mean exactly?  It's like, everything I've ever wanted, but it is also so weird to think that there could be a response or consequence and now, instead of totally free-writing my thoughts, I'm pausing to think...which I don't really like doing, but I guess, being thoughtful is better than being thoughtless. So, on that note, on to my night of cooking!

It was during my other life in Dubai, that I realized my love for cooking.  Growing up, I used to really enjoy baking occasionally, but it was never something that I did often enough to truly appreciate.

When I lived in Dubai, I experienced cooking and food in an entirely different way than I ever thought possible.  My ex-mother in law was probably my first real experience of how to COOK.  And I do mean that in capitals.  She was an AMAZING cook, who yes, had the help of a maid to be her sous chef, but the meals she turned out were divine.

Mostly she did Lebanese cooking--as she was Lebanese and anyone who has every cooked this cuisine will know, tho it is simple, it takes a LOT of preparation and also it is extremely time consuming.

She attempted to teach me, I think, but in actuality, I might rescind my earlier statement, because truly, it was my ex-husband that taught me the ropes.  He was also an amazing cook and we did it quite often together, until I figured out how to do it--and love it on my own.

Perhaps it was when we went through out vegetarian only days that I realized that chopping vegetables was cathartic and then when I made 41 days worth of meals with veggies only, I realized I could call myself a cook.

I have progressed in cuisines as far as branching out, but my favorite food to cook, to this days, is Lebanese.

However,  the other night, I made an old favorite, Chicken Tikka Masala.  From scratch.

I haven't made Indian in years.  I've eaten it plenty, but haven't had time in the last 5 years and recently decided to make it for my family.

And so goes, the true reason that I find cooking so cathartic.  Because food brings people together.  I find true joy in cooking for my loved ones and it's the only way I know how to bring my family all together.

Since moving back to Vermont, and since starting this blog, I said I would cook 100 new things.  And while this isn't new, it is something revisited, and so, I decided to get on track with the cooking part of the new me.

In any event, I am rambling, but cooking this meal brought me my family and according to them, they thought it was pretty darn good--so, mission accomplished---at least for now. One dish down and 99 to go!

FEMPIRE!!!

I am absolutely in LOVE with the term, FEMPIRE and I can't stop writing it in FULL CAPS!  I just discovered this word this morning and have been utterly enchanted since. 

I stumbled across this because I clicked on a Zooey Deschanel article on yahoo! before signing into my email and remembered that I had wanted to look up Elizabeth Merriwether because I had just watched a couple episodes of New Girl and thought it was really different from the usual crap that was on network TV---and that's when it happened.  I read about Elizabeth and how she went to Yale and wrote a bunch of plays and then the article went to say she was part of a FEMPIRE with three other writers: Dana Fox, Diablo Cody and Lorene Scafaria and they basically had a girl club where they hung out, wrote, and supported one another in a land where only 12% of the scriptwriters are females.

Now, this is not a fem rant by any means, it is more that I am in a state of wonderment and this idea of women together, writing, and supporting one another is exactly why I recently reached out to my old writing buddies from my MFA program.

Writing is a solitary venture.  It is a lonely road and is intimidating as all hell.  It is a path that I romanticise often, believe is my only way to true happiness, but one I eschew often because of...well many reasons, but mostly out of fear.

Just the word FEMPIRE represents in my mind STRENGTH, POWER, BELIEF. Women together can make it!  FEMPIRE! Women working with one another rather than against can and will get further than if they work against each other.  I was so fortunate to have an AMAZING writing cohort at Lesley University in my Writing for Young People and am so happy to have touched base with them that--and--in my fear and anticipation of moving out to Los Angeles next year, it's comforting to know that I have my own little Fempire and while we go in and out of each other's lives--it has, endured for years.

So, here's to the WFYP ladies!  My writing buds (especially this month for NaNoWriMo) here's to our very own FEMPIRE!

A return---again and trying to figure this out

So I think one of my major problems is follow through. And that's not an "I think" so much as, THIS IS DEFINITELY a PROBLEM!

I have started this blog a number of times, in fact I think this is the third or fourth incarnation. Not proud of that, but I am sort of happy that I am writing more in than I ever have before.

I'm not even sure why I want to blog, to be perfectly honest, aside from the fact that I have a s*** load to say, almost every minute of the day as well, it's is a way for me to actively write--SOMETHING, besides my usual angsty journal entries. 

I think, particularly for this year, blogging will be a way of me measuring the success of my year.  Of this year.

What often happens with me is that I have these brilliant ideas that seem like they are THE ANSWER to my life that I've been searching for--and then, for one reason or another, boredom, reality, it just peters out.  And then, I'll come up with another idea and another and thus--the spiral into me--NOT FINISHING ANYTHING.

It is annoying.  Because I do pride myself on getting things done.  As well, ironically, I consider myself very goal oriented and can really only motivate when I see the light at the end of the tunnel--that is before I even get started--so it is puzzling, why I can't just complete the stories--and there are LOTS of them--in my head.  FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE!

I have this amazing time.  And this amazing space.  And am surrounded by family and I have a loving supportive man in my life. As well--I have very little demands currently, except the ones I create.  Thus, I really have ZERO excuses for why I am not writing EVERY SINGLE DAY!!

However, here is my light. 

Today commences NaNoWriMo.  I have done this before when I was working--i.e. teaching and I turned out a pretty good piece of work.  I actually liked it a lot--and yea, yea, it's unfinished.

However, this piece that I'm going to write for this month is going to be a fairy tale that is actually the back story of the novel I want, no WILL complete this year.  It's called Forest People.

So, this is the month that I will write and I hope that I will gain some momentum and continue writing for the rest of the year.

I know I work best when surrounded by other Creatives, so, hopefully, HOPEFULLY, I will meet some tomorrow at the first NaNo meeting tomorrow.

A girl can dream, right?

Ender's Game

Am in the middle of this.  I was going to return it to the library unread, and I'm SO glad I didn't!!  I spent almost all of yesterday, in between 5 loads of laundry, 2 bathrooms, and 2 floors of rooms to clean, reading.

I LOVE THIS BOOK!  Very intense, so realistic--as far as a human character study.  I love the deep twistedness of it.  Awesome!  Will finish it this evening!

Pegasus!

Started this yesterday and am in love!!  Will post a full review upon completion.

Smoking Cessation--not my favorite ride at the park

Another one of my brilliant ideas all in the quest of my improvement of self.  Ack.  So, last Friday I went to the doctor, the first time to a GP in since I was like, 10---really.  And I started the conversation about how I wanted to stop smoking.  My fiance and I have discussed the idea, over a drink and smoke, but I've never really wanted to take any real steps towards this.  I did however, throw out the idea of stopping 6 months before our wedding.  Which would be around January of 2012.

Silly me, as I'm talking to my GP, the ball begins to roll and before I know it, I have a prescription for Wellbutrin.  Wellbutrin.....I had heard about it from one of my pill-pooping friends in NYC.  She described it in hushed tones and said it was like a superdrug.  Not only did it help you to stop smoking, it also helped improve anxiety as well as depression.

I had tried half-heartedly to get a prescription from my GYN, but like most things in the last 4 years, if it took more than a single phone call, then it just wasn't worth it.  However, now that I am an actual person again....this is something I thought might be worth trying.

So here is how it played out.

Friday got the prescription.  Went to the pharmacy and it was hell.  Literally, the pharmacist described my situation as being in insurance hell.  No one wanted to pay for this.  Not the state and not my primary insurance.  Which I later found out was because they didn't take down the correct information.... a duh.

Saturday took the generic, which is what the pharmacist gave me and noticed I had a low-grade headache all day but had also stopped drinking in the last couple of days as well had been pretty good about the low to no carbs. So figured it must be that.

Sunday, day two of all of the above and headache was more noticiable.

At dinner, that evening, my dad and his lady friend cook an amazing meal.  I tell my family of 10 who have gathered that I was no drinking, smoking and not eating carbs.  As expected that made fun of me, discouraged me and since I was only on day two and wanted to anyway, I caved.  On all of the above.

Monday: have the worst hangover ever.  I take the generic again, but that night have a serious panic attack after spending 2 hours online reading about how the generic is essentially created by the devil.

Tuesday: Am still feeling crazy and call my dr, insurances, and pharmacist and insist on going on the name brand, ONLY.  After only a couple of hours on the phone, I am finally able to get what I need.

Wednesday: Day 1 on the "real stuff."  I'm feeling a little foggy and out of sorts.  I'm also going to my first writing group meeting.  To say I was a little out of it, would be an understatement, but I felt like it was really important for me to go.

Thursday: I'm feeling okay, almost myself and also really wanting a glass of wine.  I feel a little trapped that I "can't" on Wellbutrin.  But I do, and I can and I wake up on Friday feeling fine.

Friday: I take it again and feel fine.  Not perfectly me, but mostly me.

And Saturday: today.  I'm going to do this for one more week, until I go to LA because even though my "habit" mind is struggling with this, I think once I get over the hump, this stuff is going to be good for me.  I am still smoking though....

but my doctor said give it two weeks.  So.  I'll let ya know.  And fingers crossed.  Because eventually, this body needs to be completely detoxed in order to make way for 'baby!'

Books I've read am reading want to read or have put down to start something else

I am a reader.  Through and through.  If I could only use 6 words to describe myself, I would probably say something like: reader, eater, dreamer, seer, lover, creator.

According to family lore, I was reading at age 4.  I'm not sure if that's impressive or not, but it is something that I used to brag about back in the days when that seemed like the type of thing that might bring me some school yard cred.  Please mind that I was an extremely insecure little tyke.

I can still remember one of the first books that I read.  It was a typical See Dick Run sortof thing, but I liked it.  I liked being able to put the words together and liked that I could do something "allbymyself."

I was a relatively active child, but reading was the one thing that could keep me in place.  In my old house, growing up, we had a room, we called the barn--mostly because it was a refurbushed barn my dad figured out how to attach to our house through a shed, which sounds weird, but was actually really cool.

I remember on the weekends, the family and there were a lot of us, would be spread out in the rather large house.  My grandparents were on the second floor.  My brothers were either out or up in the loft that was their ultra cool bedroom.  My father was probably tucked away in his little nook of an office, but there was usually a fire going on in the wood stove and there were shelves and shelves of books to choose from.

And I would challenge myself to see if I could read an entire book.  Which I was varyingly successful at.  I basked in my mother's rare words of praise because she noticed that I was being quiet and wasn't underfoot.  Not that I really ever was because we didn't get along and while I yearned to be close to her--secretly--in reality, it was always far more pleasant to be be away from her than in her proximity.

Later, I would read because I was grounded all the time.  Literally, I think in my 9th grade year, I was not grounded for maybe a total of 5 weekends.  The one place my parents let me out to go to was the library.

Looking back it seems ridiculous to think that if I could ride my bike the two miles to the library, it would make just as much sense that I would ride my bike to a friend's house, but tho my mother proclaimed me untrustworthy, she knew she had me by fear, so to the library I went and would spend hours choosing books to lug home in my backpack to read when I was wardened back into my bedroom.

Fifteen to twenty books a week would not be an unreasonable number of books to read.  I loved getting lost in those silly worlds that kept me sane through my teenage years.  I wasn't reading "important" literature like Jane Austin or Charlotte Bronte, though I did really like reading Charles Dickens even if I didn't understand it that well.  No, the books I read were the silly ones.  The girly ones.  The ones that had happy endings.

I still feel guilty for reading the books, I call "silly" because that's what I like to read, except, now I have swerved more towards fantasy than anything else in the past five years.  However, one of the best "lessons" one of my writing professors bestowed up on me was that it doesn't matter the type or style or genre I read and feeling ashamed or guilty about it was completely not important, because, and here was the lesson and the gift all wrapped up in one, it was all just reading.

Sigh.

So, as I'm sitting here, fantasizing about writing and rather than fantasizing, I think it'd be more accurate to say, I am brewing, concocting a story, a pretty big one right now, it is like this gigantic monster inside my head that is like, flailing against a barely controlled brainstorm.

I am -- I think going to write the story of a lifetime over this year.

But I digress:
The books I am reading, have read, or am in the middle of are:

Dash and Lily's Book of Dares by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
Freak Show by James St. James
Angelology by Danielle Trussoni
The Help: Kathryn Stockett
Room by Sarah Donoghue (horrifying subject.  hated that it hung on in my mind for awhile)
City of Fallen Angels by Cassandra Clare
The Magician King by Lev Grossman.  (Am upset about the ending)
What the Dog Saw by Malcolm Gladwell (I LOVE this guy.  He's a bloody genius.)
I loved, I lost, I Made Spaghetti by Guilia Melucci. ( a little too whiny for my taste)

The are books I can remember off the top of my head that have been in my life since late August, Early September til now.

And that's all.

My return to the gym, not so triumphant

I was excited walking into my gym because the last time I had had such a positive experience.  I loved the tiny, loud and demanding Asian instructor and was completely into the way she trained us.

However, the first surprise was that my favored instructor was nowhere to be seen and instead was replaced by a girl who....wasn't all that friendly and didn't seem interested in making us beginners feel comfortable.

I may be whining as I sometimes have a tendency to do, but I think a really important part of being a fitness instructor is making EVERYONE feel welcome.  Like, really.  Because otherwise we are in the middle of class feeling like shit and feeling stupid because everyone else knows the "routine" and you're standing there like an idiot.

That was me.

The instructor, much like some of the other instructors at this club had their followers who knew what was up and I, having returned after a too-long break, had NO IDEA what was happening!

Cross that with my lack of coordination, my shortness of smoker's breath and the sweat streaming into my eye, well, it wasn't the most fun class.

However, towards the end, my brain sortof kicked in and my body began to follow directions.  I left feeling like I got a good workout and I will return to this class, but man, oh man, did I feel inadequate at first!!!

The Goals....of Which I'm Sure Are Quite Flexible

Okay, it has been more times that I can count that I have tried to get this darn blog off the ground.  This, however, is the most IMPORTANT time, because I AM going to FOLLOW THROUGH, i.e. finish it, and that doesn't mean forget about it.  Finish it, means, complete it and that will I've accomplished the following goals.

(Disclaimer: These can be changed)

Ack.  See Above?  This is why so often I don't reach my lofty goals because right from the start I always give myself a back door.  I should probably talk about that at some point, but for now, let's focus on the goals.

I woke up this morning really trying to pinpoint the things I want, I WILL accomplish in this next year of me.

I think I will refer to this as Year 1.  ANYC (After NYC) or maybe BLRB (Before life really began.) I can tweak that.

In any event, these are the things I will do this year.

Become proficient in a second language. Again.
Read 365 new books.  Categories: Fiction--  200 modern fiction, 20 classic, 100 YA literature, 45 miscellaneous.
Cook 200 new menu items, perfect 100 of them. 50 appetizers and 50 entrees.
Go to the gym 365 times. (or MORE!)
Stop smoking
Write and SUBMIT 10 major drafts: 1 complete novel, 4 children's books, 1 play, 4 non-fiction articles
Meet 10 new people who I eventually call friends. (This is a HUGE leap for a "recluse" like myself)
Join a writing group and become active in it
Join a book club
Join the Burlington Cooking Club

And then the following are inevitable, because they are happening:
Get married
Move to LA
Find a new and satisfying job

Needless to say, it's a big year.