I'm Finished- Sort of

The writing process is an interesting one. It begins with an idea. Sometimes it's an experience from my childhood or a great piece of gossip. Sometimes it's a strange character that makes me laugh or something I've read the I don't agree with and want to change. With any luck that idea then expands into a story arc.

Once the concept of the story is solidified, I begin writing. The dishes pile up, the laundry barely gets done and I write. Necessities are still taken care of, children are hugged and fed but everything else must wait while the story emerges.

When the last word is written, there is a huge feeling of success. That happened this morning for me. I finished my manuscript "An Angel In the Family." I did my happy dance and emailed out the draft to six of my closest friends and now, I've just begun.

The truth is, I have finished very little. I've only begun the editting process. Then I have to try to sell it to a publisher, and it goes through another edit, and then I try to breath life into the market by begging for reviews, blogging about it and telling everyone that will listen what a great book it is.

But for today, I will pretend I've actually finished something. After all I wrote the words "The End"- Wa-Hoo!

How Many Children Should I Have

Recently I ran into an old friend that reminded me of this story. It touched her and changed her life as it did mine so I thought I'd share it.

We grew up having a personalized song for each child in our family. Robin's was a cool jazz "When the Red Red Robin comes Bob, Bob, Bobbin' Along." Mine was the theme song to a robot commercial put out by Mattell in the mid sixties. It was bad but not as awful as poor Weston. His song went "Shh- be quite as a mouse/ There's a baby in our house." I couldn't imagine why my mother would chose it. Didn't she realize he would grow up? He wasn't even the youngest in the family. He was a middle child. So one day I asked my mother why she had chosen that one for him and she told me-

When my mother was expecting her sixth child, she had decided it would be her last. With my father travelling so much and a full house already, she thought she was done. She felt this new baby would be a boy and she was going to name him Weston. Well, as she lay on the delivery table all doped up she could hear the voices of a number of children laughing. One said, "Isn't it funny? Mother thinks you are coming and its really me." Shortly after that the doctor placed a beautiful little girl in my mother's arms. She named her Robin.

Because of these events, my mother felt she should have that boy. She got pregnant again and had another girl, Carolyn. Finally three years later Weston was place in her arms and mother gave him the song since he would certainly be her last child and the baby of our family forever. She was done.

But soon after this time, my mother had a dream. She dreamed that a little girl with bright blond hair was crying and crying. The child told my mother that she wanted to be in our family and didn't want to be forgotten or left behind. My mother took the dream seriously. She had another boy, Robert, and another boy, William. Then she finally had a girl with red hair that she named after herself. Jaroldeen Edwards.

Mother thought that maybe she had just gotten the child's hair color wrong in the dream and was thinking that eleven was probably all she would have, but soon after that she had the dream of the little blonde girl again and Patricia was born whose beautiful blonde hair is her trademark.

How grateful I am that my mother listened and had all twelve of us. I can't tell you how wonderful it has been to be part of my fabulous family. But how nice that my mother's story touched someone else into being brave enough to move forward and create their own. I cheer anyone willing to make the huge sacrifice to create a large happy family unit. Such homes are sacred and rare places where the most valiant saints flourish.

Christmas Done and What's Fun

Well, the stockings are laying around the house surrounded by wrappers and the ham is just a ragged bone that's been picked dry. My older son went back to work and my husband is answering scores of emails from his days off. Christmas is over and I've got to roll up my sleeves and face the laundry room, but before I do, I'd like to make a few observation about the day.

First, less is more. This year we decided to only do three gifts for each of the children, one that was substantial and two little things. I was worried because in the past we have done more but this was not only a White Christmas, but a Tight Christmas as well. The funny thing was that when it was done, Camron, my fourteen year old said that this was one of the best Christmases he could remember in the present department. Wow, that was a surprise.

Second, games aren't fun. It is finding the right match for your audience in a game that is fun. I love Scrabble but when you play with boys who take fifteen minutes to put down the word "well", it is NO fun. We did play UNO attack which was great and Big Buddha which I totally STINK at. Maybe that's why my children love it so much.

Third, having missionaries over on Christmas day is the best gift of all. We have two boys out on missions right now so it was so nice to have the elders over as substitutes. They stayed and did their phone calls home in the other room. We had so much fun talking, eating, playing and watching Kung Fu Panda. All in all it was a fabulous day.

Thank goodness the season continues for another week of fun.

I Can't Believe I Won the Christmas Story Contest

One blog that I visit often is www.ldspublisher.blogspot.com. It is written by an anonymous LDS Editor who does a great job of promoting LDS fiction and informing readers and writers of trends and the lastest buzz. Anyway, she sponsored a Christmas Story Contest and I won. If you're in the mood for a Christmas story, here it is:

A Real Baby in the Manger
By Christine Thackeray

“They’re at it again.” Brother Fortner adjusted his royal robes and rolled his eyes.
I huffed, putting down my clipboard. “Those darn shepherds, what is it this time?”
The entire cast of almost one hundred people was shivering under their sewn up sheets at the dress rehearsal of our live nativity. This event had become a wonderful tradition for over twenty years running, and the entire town looked forward to coming on the Saturday before Christmas to watch the Mormon pageant. It was a great missionary tool, using the talents and resources from all three wards in our building. The angels sang in perfect harmony and the three kings wore lavish costumes with gifts of real myrrh and frankincense. We even had a real donkey that behaved beautifully-- if only I could say the same thing about the shepherds.
In the past it had always been an ‘adults only’ experience, but for some reason this year the Bishop had gotten the idea to use the sixteen-year-old priests as shepherds. It was a huge mistake. Everyone else took their parts seriously, but the shepherds had spent most of their time joking around or pulling pranks. They had sort of devolved into their own shepherd gang with my son as the ringleader.
As I quickly rounded the corner where the boys were supposed to be waiting for their cue, I nearly fell on my face. Josh had been holding his crook out to intentionally trip me. I barely caught myself and turned to face him, “What are you thinking? This isn’t funny.”
The three other boys held in their snickers while Josh shook his head, “It wasn’t supposed to be for you. Ty had asked Bro. Fortner to come over…”
“Listen, you guys, I am serious. This play is important and I want to see you change your attitudes.”
“Mom, we don’t even want to be here. You can fire us and we won’t mind.” The other boys nodded their heads in agreement.
I looked at them and took a deep breath. “The pageant is tomorrow. Please, I beg of you, just behave for one more day.”
Ty shook his head, “This is stupid.”
“It is so sad you can’t see what we are doing here.” I said to him and then turned to all the boys. “If you try to feel the spirit of this event and remember what we are celebrating, you might get something out of this.”
I walked away feeling hopeless. When the shepherds started poking the ugly doll in the manger, I let them go home early and we finished the dress rehearsal without them.

The next day the weather was not cooperating. It rained all day. The cold gray added to the dread that filled my heart every time I thought about the manger scene and those darn shepherds. As we started loading everyone in the car to head over for the performance, I cornered Josh in the garage.
“Honey, please, can you…”
“Mom, stop,” Josh shook his head. “I’m going to this stupid thing for you but the truth is I don’t even want to be part of it. All the guys feel that way.”
“But, Josh, we are celebrating Christ’s birth. This is important.”
“Is it?” My son clamped his mouth shut.
I looked at him seriously. “What is that supposed to mean?”
Josh ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just not feeling it this year. Don’t you ever wonder if all this crap really happened or if it ‘s like some myth.”
“What are you saying?”
He shook his head, “Oh forget it. I’m doing it, aren’t I?”
My son’s words struck me with fear. He always attended church and seminary and had never mentioned doubting before. I looked at my watch and was already later than I should have been. I would have to deal with this later. Maybe this was the reason the Bishop had felt so impressed to include the boys, so I could face my son’s feelings. As I drove I said a silent prayer that somehow I could help to touch my son’s heart.
We pulled into the church parking lot as the sun was going down. With many willing hands, the costumes and makeup were complete and everyone was in place at the right time. My stomach was doing flip-flops and I wasn’t sure if it was more from the anticipation of the pageant or from my son’s words. I could see him laughing with his friends in the dim light and didn’t know what to do or say to him.
At that moment a young mother walked up to me. She held her infant in her arms. “Sister Adams? I don’t know why, but I want to ask if you would like to use my baby for the baby Jesus.”
“Usually we don’t use a real baby because of the cold and fear that they might cry.”
“I know.” The young mother bowed her head. “But are you sure? Sammy is a good baby and the night is so warm.”
She was right. I hadn’t noticed that the weather had turned. The sky was clear and I guessed it was probably in almost sixty degrees, warmer than it had been all day. Suddenly I doubted my original reaction and took the small bundle. “Thank you.”
I gave the baby to the sister portraying Mary just moments before the performance began and stood on the sidelines watching the story unfold, while the shepherds seemed oblivious to what was happening under the floodlights on the lawn before hundreds of people watching on blankets and lawn chairs.
Mary rode on the donkey with a caring Joseph. The couple were turned away over and over again until one kind innkeeper led them to the stable. There amid the animals, Mary held her new baby and laid him in a manger.
The lights cut out and suddenly a spotlight danced across the shepherds who were swaggering around at the back of the lawn. When the light shone on the angel, they pantomimed extreme shock with a comical attitude that brought chuckles from the audience. Once the full choir appeared, they stole the show by one of them full out fainting. I shook my head in frustration.
The angels finished their musical number which was beautiful and Josh stood and said, “Let us go and see where the child lay.” He said it with a flat meaningless tone that made me cringe. The boys walked in unison across the lawn as though they were in a music video, moving their shoulders and hips from side to side. I covered my face and didn’t want to look but peeked through two of my fingers.
As they came to the stable, they each looked and then did a double take. Josh fell to his knees, followed by his friends. They bowed their heads in rapt silence and the angels began to sing. I lowered my hands and felt the Spirit fill my heart. The sudden change seemed to affect the entire audience and the power of that scene made the reality of Christ’s birth and life once again shine in my heart.
The pageant ended and people flocked forward to congratulate everyone in the cast. Many said it was the best one we had done and more than one person mentioned the shepherds and how they had been so touched by their performance.
Late that night I finally got in the car where Josh was waiting for me. Before I turned the key in the ignition, he reached out and touched my arm. “Mom?”
“Yes.” I turned to him and couldn’t read the look on his face.
“That was awesome.”
“You did an incredible job, by the way. When you knelt before the manger, people said they felt like they were there. I never knew what an incredible actor you were.”
“I wasn’t acting.” Josh swallowed. “No one told me it was a real baby. I was expecting that dumb doll. When I walked up and saw the real baby- it totally caught me off guard and I fell to the ground. I realized that was how I was looking at the church. I was thinking it was something plastic and fake, not real. As I looked at the baby, I knew there was a real baby in Bethlehem all those years ago. There was a real Christ who died for me. It is real, you know?”
I looked at my teenage son with the light of conviction shining in his eyes. The sight of him doubting in the garage flickered in my mind and the difference was nothing short of a miracle. It hit me that this miracle happened because a living Christ reached out through an inspired bishop, a sensitive young mother and a simple manger bed to touch my son’s heart and change his life forever. I closed my eyes so grateful that Christ lives and loves us even now. Patting my son’s arm I blinked back the tears of joy from the corners of my eyes.
“I know, Josh. I know.”

C. S. Lewis and an Early Christmas Treat

This spring my sister and I worked feverishly to get out our C. S. Lewis book before she left on her mission with her husband to Brazil. We had some nice reviews come out at that time but what a sweet Christmas surprise to get a review just this week from T. Lynn Adams at Bella Online. Here's what she had to say:

Review of C.S. Lewis, Latter-day Truths in Narnia

I read the Chronicles of Narnia as a child and still recall wondering as a child what it must feel like to ride a flying lion. Later, during various conference talks, I fell in love with the quotes of a wonderful thinker named C.S. Lewis. How excited I was to learn that the man who wrote fantasy for children also penned philosophy. I remember wondering if he was LDS. Between flying lions and soaring thoughts, C.S. Lewis has held a special place in my literary world.

I’m not the only one who feels this way. At a recent Stake Conference I was listening to a speaker quote C.S. Lewis when I noticed a man toward the front nodding enthusiastically. Afterwards I approached the brother and said, “You’re a C.S. Lewis fan, aren’t you.” He was surprised by my observation. “How did you know?” he asked. I told him his enjoyment of the C.S. Lewis quotes, nodding in agreement as the speaker read them, gave him away.

It’s fun to find another true Lewis fan.

That is why I loved book C.S. Lewis: Latter-day Truths in Narnia, by Marianna Richardson and Christine Thackeray. This book compiles into one place so many things LDS readers have quietly nodded over in agreement.

The book, published by Cedar Fort, is divided into three sections and three appendices. The first section contains his life history, (no, he is not LDS) his conversion story (he was once an atheist), and a brief look at his entry into writing.

The section reviews some of his fictional writings, pointing out Latter-day truths and gospel principles woven into the stories.

The third section, my favorite, “examines some of the most notable references to C.S. Lewis by modern apostles and prophets.” Did you know that C.S. Lewis was quoted by Neal A. Maxwell in the very first issue of the New Era? Or that the Prophet Ezra Taft Benson quoted C.S. Lewis in his masterpiece address, Beware of Pride, “Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man. … It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest. Once the element of competition has gone, pride has gone.” (Mere Christianity, New York: Macmillan, 1952, pp. 109–10; quoted in Ensign, May, 1989)

The appendices show LDS references to some C.S. Lewis quotes organized by topic, by speaker and finally by lesson material.

From pride to the role of women and the importance of family through to the eternities, the authors of this book note that C.S. Lewis had a way to pen words that “are easy to understand, almost simplistic. Yet there is a deeper meaning that causes one to pause and think more profoundly.”

“His voice,” they write “has an ‘every man’ quality, as though he is struggling beside us, which enables people of all kinds to relate to his message. But along with his personal weaknesses and trials, C.S. Lewis openly witnesses time and again of his personal faith in Christ as both a partner in helping us overcome our challenges in this life and as our Savior in giving us the opportunity to share in His glory in the next. It is this powerful testimony of the Savior that rings true to members of the Church.”

Another reason I enjoyed the book was not just the collection of C.S. Lewis gems but they also incorporated comments by General Authorities. It's like a compilation of your favorite authors. Furthermore, Richardson and Thackeray, write powerfully as well and I found myself underlining just as many of their comments, words and impressions as the masters they were discussing. Hurray for them! My book is filled with personal markings, underlining, margin notes and even my own hand-written index in the front of the book to help me reference favorite quotes in the future.

This would be a great book to give to yourself or others. When you give it though, make sure you include a marking pen. I quarantee this book will be marked, underlined, written on and dog-earred by every avid C.S. Lewis fan who gets it.

If you want to have more fun with it, wrap it up with a copy of the Chronicles of Narnia, a copy of Mere Christianity or The Screwtape Letters, or even the new Prince Caspian DVD.

Just don’t forget that marking pen!

Snow Jail and Trying to Make Fun

With over a week of snow the fun of it is over. Unfortunately the snow isn't. All the children are bored. Normally my kids would be out making snow forts and having a great time but it isn't that type of snow. It's wet and slushy and most of it melts by the end of the day but then by morning we get a new supply.

Today the roads are not good so home is where we stay. I've got to pull it together and make this day a treat but everyday has been a treat and we're getting sick of just watching movies and eating Christmas cookies.

When I was on my mission there was a woman who invited us to dinner on a Wednesday. Now Wednesdays were bread pudding day at the local bakeries where they would take all the pastries they hadn't sold, chop them up and mix them with eggs, cream and sugar and then bake it. It was delicious but depending on the day you would get a smaller piece or a huge one, depending on how many left overs they had. Well, this day we had a HUGE piece and then headed over to this dinner appointment.

The woman had prepared an impressive spread but everything on the table was sweet. She thought it would be a treat to have a meal of desserts. I remember eating barely enough to seem polite and leaving with a craving for protein. I think that's how my children are feeling right now. Too much fun. We need to do something. We need to accomplish something we can be proud of.

So Greg is out slipping around on the unsafe roads and is going to pick up paint and brushes and we are finally going to work on the secret room. Yeah!

A Snow Week, "Surface" and Seeding a Story

Who knew that a snow day would quickly turn into a snow week?

Again, Portland has no snow removal equipment so when the roads are icy and it stays below freezing, everything just shuts down. We've been out of school since Monday and it snowed another few inches today so I doubt anything is happening scholastically through the next weekend. My guess is they'll just take Christmas break early.

Ironically the roads are crowded with bored housewives and high schoolers without a clue of how to drive in the slightly difficult conditions. The truth is I'm more afraid of the other drivers than the snow and ice.

Yesterday was frittered away watching movies on Netflix. We watched "Father of the Bride" which was filmed in San Marino, the town I grew up in. According to the producers it is middle class which still has me dumb-founded. Then we watched "Top Hat" and "Singing in the Rain". At that point the kids said enough with the oldies and we watched the entire season of "Surface."

For those who haven't watched it, "Surface" is a teenage soap opera about a new species of electrical sea monster that affects a teenager, a marine biologist and a redneck. Their lives eventually intersect as they try to save the world but in the end are too late.

With the last episode the coastal cities are flooded and the sea monsters seem to be taking over, but the teenager has special abilities that connect him to the creatures, the marine biologist's best friend is one of the scientists that genetically engineered the creatures and the redneck is in the middle of a divorce (but the reality is no one cares about the redneck- he's just annoying.)

The point is that the writers did an incredible job of creating subplots to build another season on. They seeded the scripts with these little branches of story while staying true to the major plotline and completing it. They also did an admirable job of creating a viable cliffhanger at the end of each episode in the season. The sad thing is that the show got cancelled because "Deal or No Deal" was getting good ratings and cost much less to produce.

I think sometimes the same is true of books. A book can be fabulous, but may be rejected due to financial considerations. A book of poorer quality but a sure bet by a famous author will often supersede really good manuscripts, case in point- Glen Beck fiction. It's too bad because in a perfect world the best stuff would always win out.

Oh, well. My children said that we would just have to make up the ending ourselves and of course it all ends happily ever after. (Maybe the governments could set off nuclear devices above the atmosphere creating an electromagnetic pulse that would knock out all the electricity, killing the creatures in an instant. Oh, I think that was already used somewhere.)

Snow Day

In Portland it rarely snows and so most of the towns don't invest in plows at all. As a result when it does snow, everything shuts down until it melts.

Last night as we came home from Tithing Settlement on icy roads we were pretty certain that today would be an unexpected winter vacation and it was- A Snow Day!!! The children were up at the break of dawn without a single complaint. I think they were attempting to even the scales by trying to yank me out of bed unwillingly earlier than I was planning on.

The time has been swallowed up with playing and singing Christmas Carols, straightening rooms, finishing homework and playing video games. But the weather didn't warm up and so nothing melted. The snow is still here and may be for the rest of the week. We just got a call that tomorrow will be off as well.

I'm excited but I think it's got to be a little more planned because as their freedom waned it got grumpy. All of us do better with a schedule and some goal to accomplish. So tomorrow we'll have to do something wonderful- I've got it. Christmas Cards!

It will be a great day.

Tis The Season To Be Frustrated

We are getting into the Christmas spirit late this year. Thanksgiving was wonderful with family and friends, and then my hubby and I took off for a week to go to the sealing of my nephew. It was a beautiful experience.

Once we got back, I had a week of laudry, undone homework and general mess to clean up, while Greg left on another business trip. So here it is almost the middle of December with nothing Christmas-y to speak of in our house.

Yesterday afternoon I zipped by Fred Meyers for my daughter who had to buy a birthday gift and grabbed a variety of lights. When we moved two years ago we got rid of alot of our holiday stuff, and then last year in the rental we did very little.

Well, when I got home, it was pouring rain and then we had to run out to go Caroling with the cubscouts, so by the time we got back home nobody wanted to do the lights. I left early with Anna to get her driver's test this morning and when I came home, you would have vomited- my husband used 90% on one small tree which now looks like a glowing plasma ball. Then he threw up two little strings on the lower branches of a huge tree, so it looks like a pathetic.

Now my house looks like a disfunctional family with a husband that was forced against his will to put up Christmas lights. Can you say passive aggressive behavior? If that wasn't enough, no one wants to go get the Christmas tree. My children aren't really spoiled but don't really WANT anything. They are happy to hang out together and don't understand why we simply don't read the Christmas story. Why do we have to put up a huge tree, yank out all the storage bins, cover it with stuff and put it away a few weeks later?

Well, I'm forcing these grinches out the door with a smile. Maybe we'll just get a really small tree this year and call it good.

Judge Not, Especially at Middle School Christmas Concerts

Last night we went to a Christmas Concert at the Middle School for beginning band. My daughter was so excited. She had practiced night and day for weeks and even had her older sister do her hair for the occasion.

The band director had prepared a 23 minute program (which I love him for.) At one point he introduced each set of instruments. The flute section was made up of nine girls- my daughter included- and played "Angels We Have Heard on High." They did very well. Then the trumpets played "The First Noel" and most hit their notes. When it was the french horn's turn, there were only two in the section. They were to play "Carol of the Bells." Well, this girl started and I swear she didn't hit a single note that she was supposed to. The little boy beside her that was doing the "ding, dong" harmony was wonderful but this girl stunk and I was surprised the band teacher put her and us through the torture of this disastrous performance.

After the concert I asked my daughter about it. She explained that this girl had practiced for weeks and had the number down perfectly, but she had gotten braces the day before. Every note she played was agony against her torn gums and lips and still she had made the attempt. Suddenly, my attitude totally changed. My heart went out to her and I admired her bravery.

I wondered how many times I do that. Judge someone without knowing what is really going on in their life and heart. Without knowing that, it is impossible to judge the truth. Nope, I'll leave that up to the Savior. It's only my job to love and I need to do that better.

Beating Linda Adams

I have recently signed up for facebook and with this new attempt to blog more have also tried to be more of a presence there. Well, Linda invited me to try the word challenge. It saves your friend's scores and so you can compete against them.

The first try I did okay but was still below Julia and Linda. With all my children behind me screaming out words, I beat Julia but Linda- ugh! Her score is so high up in the stratusphere that there is no way I'll get there. But did I give up? NO!

All night I kept trying while my children are asking for homework help and the kitchen is screaming for my attention. (Luckily my hubby is on a business trip.) I kept trying after the children went to bed and didn't keep the laundry chugging away (I'm still behind from last week.)

So I crawl into bed late last night and then get up at the crack of dawn to keep at it. When I started seeing repeats, I figured it is hopeless. So I finally have backed off and admit openly, for the world to know, that Linda Adams is better at Word Challenge than I am. Bummer!

Now I better get off my bum and get to work.

Day Three and Confining Prose

Okay, here I am at day three of consistently blogging. Wa-hoo! The key is to start a routine. So I'm trying one step at a time.

Like I said yesterday, I've started working on "An Angel in the Family." It's the story of the baby I lost and how he has proven to still be an active participant in our lives. I've got my outline and have started writing but the struggle is confining what I share to what feeds the premise of the project.

Journals and sometimes blogs just ramble and soon become boring but a work like this has to be concise and each chapter has to feed the point. I find I keep on taking tangents which I think are interesting but totally are sidetracking from the heart of what I'm trying to say.

In this way writing a concise memior is much more difficult than I ever imagined because so much more DID happen. Still, no one wants to read every moment. Man, this is hard! Well, the only way I know to do hard things is to stop whining and roll up your sleeves, so I better just get back to work.

If anyone has suggestions... they'd be appreciated.

A New Direction

So I promised myself I'd blog every day this week and if I don't get another goal accomplished (I've blown my diet and am still four loads behind on laundry) at least I'll get my blogging done.

While we were in the temple last week, my husband turned to me and asked, "Are you doing what the Lord wants you to?"

What a question???

I turned to him and shrugged. I know I could do better in every area of my life, but I think I've got the biggest rocks in place. I doing okay with cubscouts, the kids are thriving and a felt really guided to writing- so I guess the answer is yes.

But questions like that sometimes linger and this one did.

On Sunday morning I was lazing in bed late (we have eleven o'clock church) when I suddenly felt I should go a different direction. The last few weeks I have spent hours researching everything Herod in preparation for my next project, but this impression was so clear I didn't dare ignore it.

Three years ago I lost a baby and then four days later my father died. I had so many personal spiritual experiences and nothing short of miracles happen at that time that I wanted to write it out and share it, but stopped after getting about forty pages into it.

Well, out of nowhere I knew I needed to finish that project first.

Monday morning (yesterday) I started looking for my old file, but I've been through two computers since then. Greg gave me a backup disk, but it wasn't there either. I was ready to give up when he brought out a portable hard drive and sure enough it was there. So I started again.

I think my problem last time is that I tried to edit out the worst parts and so it wasn't really true. Who knows if I'll be brave enough to actually share it with anyone, but for some reason I'm writing.

A Long Cyber Vacation

Sorry.

For the last month I sort of went on an extended cyber vacation. No blogging, very little email responses (I was almost 200 behind at one point.) Instead I've been finishing homework assignments with my kids, preparing and living through Thanksgiving and then the week after running off to Utah for my nephew's sealing.

Now that I'm home again for the first time and the dust has settled, I've got more to do than you can imagine. Between house guests and a week of unsupervised teenagers the laundry is screaming at me, every corner seems filled with old homework assignments or gym clothes and the kids didn't do as good a job of letting out the puppy as I had hoped so all my rugs could use shampooing.

Will I ever get it all done or simply find myself crushed to death under the weight of all I should be doing? Only time will tell.

Maybe I should go on reality vacation-- or maybe that's what I am doing right now by blogging. Well, back to work.

This week I'm going to try to blog daily- just to get back into it. We'll see if I reach my goal.