The Decorating Diaries

When we last left our heroine she was surrounded by paint samples and fabric swatches, fighting to retain her sanity.  Sadly, the battle was not to be won.

Enter the decorator.  Having proved time and again they are incapable of bringing together matching prints on their own, our favorite couple has  sought the services of a professional (decorator, not therapist...not yet anyway). The decorator took them shopping, showed them pretty things and promised it could all be theirs.

One teeny-tiny problem.  Said decorator came in with a budget DOUBLE of what our duo had allocated.  Being the calm, nurturing soul that she is, our heroine (that's me) pitched what may best be described as "a hissy fit." Decorator woman backtracked and cut her cost in half, but much of the pretty stuff was taken away. Settee?  Gone.  Black table with beautiful inlaid gold-leaf trim?  Buh-bye.  Pretty red leather boxes that would look oh-so-cute perched precariously atop a walnut armoire?  No boxes, no armoire. 

Hope remains.  It appears our duo is on the verge of picking out--and committing to--fabric selections for bedding and curtains as well as paint.  Could this be the turning point in the bedroom gone horrible awry?  Will our couple finally find the warm, romantic, yet not overly frou-frou or decadent looking environmental solace they've been seeking?  Stay tuned...

How Cool Is This Blog Looking?

Not that I take much credit.  My super-cool friend and Lessons In Stalking website designer Melody Watsonhas been busy behind the scenes on my behalf. She has the patience of a saint.  Our e-mail conversations consist of me saying something along the lines of "I want a blue background," then turning around when Melody provides said blue background and saying, "This isn't right.  Do you have anything in yellow?"  She also doesn't complain when I send her 50 consecutive e-mails with the subject heading "One More Thing."

I've added some pics to my picture gallery so don't forget to take a peek.

Self-Promoting Your Workshops

I believe I've documented in earlier entries my panic about preparing for a class I'm teaching for the first time this Saturday: Get Published! The Ins & Outs of Magazine Submissions.  I made myself sit down for five hours last Sunday and plow through setting up a syllabus and content.  Turns out it may all be for naught.

So far only 1 person has pre-registered for the class.  (And a big "thank you" to you, anonymous student.) It's my own fault.  I hesitated on sending out press releases because I was worried about being prepared.  Now I'm prepared with great content and ideas and no one to teach it to. Of course there's always the chance that between now and Friday a great horde of people will see the light and sign up, but I'm not holding my breath.

On the one hand--yea.A cancelled class frees up my Saturday, takes away the pressure and hey--I still get the promo on  my site that I offered the class (so much of marketing is...I was about to write "deceptive" but that's not it.  It's an illusion.  I can create the illusion I'm offering a great many classes and workshops and while it's true I do offer them, it's also true that a lot of them don't make.  But I can still list them on my resume and writer's bio and no ones the wiser. )

I spoke at Saturday's writer's panel on the importance of networking and self-promotion.  It never ends.  I'm knocking my head against walls, trying to get this blog the way I want it, not because I'm making any money from it but because I'm counting on it pulling in some loyal readers and establishing a reader base. Self-promotion never ends.  I'm always looking for ways to connect people, help others, get my name and book title and website address out there.

It's hard because you never know where the payoff will be.  You might spend big bucks on a conference and no magic sparks occur and the next day you'll attend a free lecture in a podunk library and make the connection of a lifetime.  That's also the fun part of it.  Nothing is ever wasted and everything is for a reason.  The fun part of life (also the challenging part of life) is figuring out what those reasons may be and what to do with the opportunities laid before you.

Which is a REALLY long of saying shame on me for not being proactive on those press releases.  No one to blame but myself. 

Highland Games

We spent the weekend in the mountains at the Grandfather Mountain Highland Games.  The games are one of the biggest gatherings of Scottish Clans in the world and this was the 50th year anniversary.

We only went to Saturday's events but were treated to sheep herding (very interesting for me as I've written about the Border Collie and finally got to see the crouch and "the eye" in practice), piping, drumming, the Hammer throw, tossing the Sheath (sheath, not s-h-e-e-p as the announcer helpfully pointed out), 56 lb weight throw and Highland Wrestling. 

Everywhere we went there were men in kilts and many men in kilts along with t-shirts that read "Real Men Wear Kilts."   I see the appeal.  Men that still come off as masculine while in a skirt with a diaper pin are men indeed.

Along with the games we also spent an afternoon exploring nearby Boone and Blowing Rock.  We came across Price Lake on the BlueRidge Parkway and decided on a spontaneous canoe rental.  We did okay once we go the hang of it but I'll be the first to admit I'm a terrible front-seat driver.  "Left, LEFT LEFT!  You're taking us into the trees!  What are you doing?"  Points go to Blair for not whacking me over the head with the paddle to shut me up.

We also rented a log cabin to stay in.  We're trying to get a feel for different cabins before (and if) we build our own.  We didn't care for the layout of this one--the rooms were small and choppy.  However, it did have an outdoor hot tub and sitting in the mountains at night in hot bubbles is not a bad thing to do.

Back to the Games, they were much fun and those Scottish people are a blast.  However, most of the day is spent sitting on bleachers observing field events and we were done after about 3 1/2 hours. 

My favorite part of the day was the opening ceremony where they introduced the heads of different clans.  One man with a thick burr of an accent came on and said there were millions of Americans with Scottish backgrounds but only a couple hundred thousand of us visited the Motherland this year.  More Japanese than Americans visit Scotland, the man said.  Then, "And while we love taking money from the Japanese, you Americans drink more and so we like your money better.  So come see Scotland and have a whiskey with us!"

He had the crowd rolling.