Boogie Board Queen

I love watching kids at the beach. Children under age 5 stand at the water's edge and scream as the remains of frothy waves come within inches of their feet.

I fit right in.

But there was a thunderstorm Tuesday night (we lost power for 2 hours) and the sea was choppy and just begging for a boogie board ride on Wednesday, so in I went.

And loved it. Admittedly, we use our boogie board more to hang out in the ocean than to ride the waves in, but the water was so stirred up it was almost impossible to ride out past the breakers without heading out to sea, so we found ourselves flung forward again and again by the waves. It became a game of watching to see when the next big wave would hit.

"Here it comes! Here it comes! No, wait. Not this one. Okay--this one! Here it comes!"

I ended up with a little motion sickness.

Back to the water's edge with the toddlers I go. =)

Hail, Oil Light, & No Underwear...

This trip is cursed. That was the thought going through my mind for about the first three hours of our trip to DC this weekend to see my mom.

To begin, Blair and I were on different wavelengths about dinner. Since we didn't leave for DC until almost 6:30 Friday night after Blair got home from work, we decided we'd just grab Wendy's for dinner. Blair pulled into the parking lot and I said, "What are you doing?" His plan was to run inside and eat, mine was to gobble food in the car so as not to waste a moment's time. He won (he had the car keys) but being such a time-oriented individual, it started the trip with a bad taste in my mouth.

Then came the underwear. We were about an hour on the road when for no reason I can pinpoint I suddenly thought of underwear. And realized I had forgotten to pack any bras OR underwear for a 2 day trip. S***. "We'll find a Wal-mart or something," said Blair. Fine, but cheap Wal-mart undies just aren't fun for a vacation get away, you know?

But the underwear didn't matter because soon after that, the oil light came on in the (new/used) Toyota. We found a gas station and added oil. The light went away. For 10 minutes. Then it was back on. We were still a good 4 hours out from DC on rural roads and we just decided the hell with it, we don't want to drive tense with an oil lamp on at midnight, so we turned around and went home. That's right. Three hours on the road Friday night and the only place it got us was home.

We're in bed by 10:30 but at 10:50 I fly upright because someone is dropping small bombs on the house. That's what it sounded like anyway. I look outside and there is hail the size of my fist coming down. I have never seen hail that big. I was worried the skylights were going to crack open from the weight and force of it.  I flipped on the back porch light and all I saw was a swirl of wind and what looked like sand and hail.

"Are we under a tornado watch?" I called to Blair, who, freight train noise or not, hadn't budged from our bed.

"I don't know," came a muffled reply.

I turned on the TV but there was no weather warning and in two minutes, the whole thing was over. Even the rain moved on.

So we got up at 4:30 am on Saturday, showered, packed some underwear, and took a new car and tried again. This time we made it to DC. And were so glad we went. We went to the Spy Museum and took a good 6-7 mile walk around the mall and monuments. I hadn't seen the FDR monument yet, which was incredible. Then we walked and walked and walked looking for an Indian restaurant, because we'd both decided we wanted Indian Food. And when we found it, it looked like a little hole in the wall but upon entering, it was glorious. Small space, great food, attentive staff. Perfect.

We had brunch the next morning with mom and her best friend and then headed home.  And even though we'd had a great trip and had only been gone really about 36 hours, we were so happy to be home. We are the ultimate homebodies. We like our home, our food, our shower, our bed, our stuff.  Love being home.

Now, of course, we've got to get the Toyota into the dealership.  Just praying it's something minor and we didn't just waste $$$ buying a clunker car. We shall see...

The Great To Do List

I haven't posted one of my famous annoying standard to-do lists in some time, and I worry your lives are lacking for it. Therefore, today's post is a look inside the cluttered "to do" mind of your world-famous (kinda sorta) cat author friend:

• RSVP to an April 26th Foster Friends of NC luncheon.
• Call the running store and see if I can switch my half-marathon race to the 5k on the 26th in order to attend above luncheon.
• Figure out who's home I can shower at in GSO on the 26th after the race so I can go to the luncheon.
• Write first draft of an article for www.Dogtwist.com.
• Call the event coordinator for the 2008 National Women's Music Festival. The event features women in the arts and there is an "animal lovers" series for which I might present. But I need to know if there is a travel stipend, can books be sold, what I'd speak on, etc.
• If I do sign up for above event, pull together speech/workshop--pronto!
• Write outline for a May 14th presentation on writing. Send to my co-host for comments/reviews.
• Remember the ding letter I got on a book proposal? I e-mailed the query and the agent has expressed an interest! She wants details on chapter structure and outline and what I plan to do with the book. Sigh. If only I knew...  Must get to library and do research and start writing sample chapters!!!!
• Organize my research for article I'm writing on canine glaucoma.
• Call my next door neighbor and see if he wants to attend "Free Friday Yoga" with me.
• Work on book proposal for "Kiss My Kitty Butt."
• I'm considering a "Kiss My Kitty Butt" calendar -- look into details on how to accomplish this.
• Trademark "Kiss My Kitty Butt?"
• Set out tape recorder hooked into phone so I can be ready if my canine glaucoma interviews call unexpectedly.
• Buy a graduation card for a friend's daughter.
• Call everyone I know because I've shamefully ignored them for weeks and am lucky to still have those who will call me "friend."
• E-mail friend about a book I hope she has on publishing that I want to borrow.
• Quit making lists and go do some actual work.

Cheers!

2008 Erma Bombeck Writers Conference - The Low Down

Just back from the 2008 Erma Bombeck Writer's Conference in Dayton, my old stomping grounds. It was cold and gray when I arrived but the dirt was brown, as earth is supposed to be (not this red clay stuff forced upon us in North Carolina). Laughed a lot, made new friends, and even managed to learn a thing or two despite my best intentions to only drink wine, eat free desserts, and take guilt free long, hot showers.  A non-writer friend once asked me what goes on at these writer workshops, so here's my attempt at a summary:

• Lunch and dinner speakers. Among others, Garrison Keillor from A Prairie Home Companion, Pulitzer Prize winner Connie Schultz, Martha Bolton who wrote for Bob Hope and Phyllis Diller, and Mike Peters who writes/draws the comic strip Mother Goose and Grimm. My impressions of these people: Garrison looks like a homeless man but he opens his mouth and a golden glow comes out and you realize you're in the presence of a writing/storytelling god; Simply put, I want to BE Connie Schultz when I grow up; I suspect Martha Bolton to be a Republican but she is so charming in every other aspect, I'm willing to overlook it; and Mike Peters seriously needs to consider Ridlin, but then again maybe not, as he's friggin' hysterical as is.
• Workshops: Lot of attention paid to U-Tube this year. Will making bad videos sell books? We're writers... we're desperate... it's worth a shot.
• American Greetings was there and my new goal in life is to have a greeting card published. If I do, be prepared to receive this card, and only this card, from me on every card-giving occasion for the rest of your life.
• Got a good writing tip for essays. Instead of trying to dive in, write, "This is a story about..." and repeat for 10 minutes. The second part of the sentence should include sensory detail. So instead of "This is a story about animal shelters," it would be, "This is a story about cement cages with no beds and cold floors. This is a story about fur matted with lice, fleas, and the burns and scars of neglect. This is a story about a 10-month old Labrador puppy whose tail creates minor earthquakes as it thumps the floor in greeting."  You take a couple of statements that stand out for you and expand on them. It's a way of tricking your brain into getting started writing while starting to compile story details.

There's more, but tiredness just caught me.  I think I hear bad TV calling my name. Only I'm a writer, so it's not bad TV. It's "cultural research." I can probably even deduct the cable bill.

Cheers.