October 21, 2009

Writing Comp Results-- They didn't hate my work!!!

I have a lot to say today and am not sure whether I should start with the moderately worrisome news or the wonderfully euphoric. Let's start with the troubling....

I had my first mammogram today. Being the insane worrier that I am, I asked several people about their experiences and got mixed review which ranged from pain-free to passing out. My experience fell somewhere in the middle. If you are big breasted and have ample fat to squeeze into a pancake you probably won't have a bad experience, unless you are like me and have a fair bit of tenderness and pain in your breast(s), then it frickin hurts!! Just when you think they are done squeezing, they crank it up a notch. I almost passed out--no word of a lie. I got the sweats, felt light-headed and eventually had to lie down.

If you are small breasted then I think you might have pain too from having them yank the crap out of your breast so it is able to be squashed into oblivion.

So, is it worth it? Absolutely. Today, I was told pretty much what I had been told previously, but for one exception. One of the three cysts in my left breast is not what a normal cyst should look like. My doctor was confident it was nothing to be worried about, but because of the way it presented itself, it requires further follow up, basically meaning that I need another ultrasound in six months. I suppose I should be grateful that it wasn't definitively something else, but then again, they couldn't be certain so I just have to wait and see.

Now, on to the exciting news!!!! I finally got my critiques back from my very first writing competition. It was a miracle I found the nuts to enter. And the results weren't horrible. In fact, they were incredibly encouraging.

So, here are my scores

Published author gave me score of 40/50
He gave wonderfully constructive criticism, including 'Wow!! What a story. It sounds like a winner to me.'
(I almost cried at this one)

Book owner/representative gave me a score of 40/50
She gave me very few comments but the ones she included were complimentary and constructive.

Published articles/other gave me a score of 42/50
She said 'Pulled into story immediately, couldn't stop reading-moved naturally and quickly.' She took the time to write a whole page of comments which were so incredibly helpful and pin-pointed things I need to work on. Plus she recommended some books to help me with my shortcomings. She also said that I have loads of talent. (I am crying now).

Unpublished pro gave me a score of 41/50
Constructive, but positive as well. She said, 'your writing is great! Love Chloe!' (My main character)Surprising, most of the judges seemed to really like my character.

I am on cloud frickin 9 right now. Screw the cyst! 4 professionals don't hate my work, nor do they think that being published is a pipe dream!! Now, if only I could find the time to write. This term is absolutely killing me.

October 18, 2009

Pumpkin Carving

Pumpkin carving time! I am not festive--not really--and yet, having kids gives you very little choice in the matter. I took my little darlings out today to buy two large pumpkins (after showing them the car I want--still obsessing), one for each of my kids. The boy wanted the biggest, of course--he's a tad competitive. We also bought a carving kit that is quite frankly a little scary for toddlers, so I did most of the work with the aid of stencils. You can't imagine what they would like if I didn't.

My little girl kept trying to take the tools from me and I kept trying to reason with her as to why I couldn't. Her reply, 'You're killing me momma, you're killing me.' Not sure where she got that from, but it's certainly not from me.

In stead of lighting the veggies with candles, I opted for Chem. lights--if you are not acquainted with them you should definitely seek them out. They are everywhere on Naval Ships and we always have some lying around the house. They are FANTASTIC for pumpkins and I highly recommend them. They come in a few different colors but the color I have at home is like a neon red, very ominous, perfect for my little girl's snake face. The boy went for the traditional Jack-O-Lantern. I would post pictures of my child-guided efforts but my husband took our camera to Boston with him. Maybe tomorrow....

October 17, 2009

Something else to obsess over

Before my husband left for Boston (football game) I had it in my mind that we need a second car, and he happened to agree with me because he says he is happier when I am happy. We also agreed--because he loves me--that the new one would be mine. Isn't this what all good husbands do? I don't deserve him--truly I don't. So, the last thing he said to me was 'Do NOT buy a car while I am away.' I thought this would be easy, but I am slightly obsessive compulsive and when I get something in my head there really isn't anything--short of a Mack truck--that can stop me in my pursuits. I almost bought one yesterday. Close, very close.


I was good. I have two cars in mind that I want, one I almost put a deposit on because hubby said 'don't buy', he didn't say anything about a deposit, but I resisted. I owe him that much, in fact I owe him much more. VW and Volvo are two of my favorite cars but I will probably never be able to afford a Volvo and if I got the car I wanted my friends and husband will say I bought it because it was what Edward Cullen drove in Twilight. I will admit this is where I took a shine to the three door piece of heaven, but alas, too expensive. VWs aren't cheap either but I am willing to finance it over six years to get the car I want, because I will probably have it for the next ten years or longer.

Thanks to OCD, I have been feverishly circling the same websites over and over hoping that each time I price a Rabbit or a Golf the price might somehow drop to a more manageable payment, normal people would not waste their time but I am not normal, by any stretch. I should probably be studying and yet here I am compulsively surfing and blogging. I think I need medication.

October 14, 2009

The Dog Ate the Bear

My daughter has extremely sensitive skin. When she was one, we went on a hunt to find a 100% cotton stuffed animals and came up empty, but we did find a hypoallergenic bear in the Build a Bear store. This bear has become such an integral part of our family that he even finds his way into family portraits—all of them, actually. She loves him, sleeps with him, puts him on time-outs in the kitchen cupboards and feeds him and takes him to potty. Seeing as how my daughter cannot live without him, we decided to invest in a 'backup bear' for emergencies. Silly us for thinking we could fool a child. The 'backup bear' is an imposter who will never replace the original no matter how hard we try to push the substitute on her, because sometimes Bear needs a frickin wash and we she won't let the frickin thing out of her sight.


Today, my Bassett decided he wanted to make a meal out of the bear. When I discovered the crime scene, my daughter's bear had his ear hanging off and was covered in slobber (which makes my daughter's skin break out). So it's my daughter's bedtime, Bear is MIA and she is throwing a fit at my attempt to give her the imposter because the original is in the wash on 'quick wash'--it's not quick enough.

And then a breakthrough. This evening I cooked a back of thick-sliced bacon in preparation for the Boston Baked Beans that I intend on cooking tomorrow. My daughter seems to forget all about Bear if I feed her bacon. She loves food, particularly meat, what can I say.

So we did a short wash and dry and I have given her back the bear; she hasn't mentioned the ear though I know she noticed it—she notices everything. My intention is to sneak into her room in the middle of the night, grab the bear, stitch him up and put him back in bed before she wakes.

Oh, the life of a mom.......

October 13, 2009

My Doctor's Fat Obsession

I escaped to Maine last weekend for an awesome weekend with some even more awesome friends. This was the first time I had been devoid of my family and my responsibilities as a parent and a wife, for almost five years. So needless to say, I was feeling pretty good about myself. And then I had another doctor's appointment today and she dropped kicked me in the ovaries. I swear she has some unresolved weight issues because we seem to spend a great deal of our time together discuss my 'fatness' and potential for disease.

I am a 32 year old woman who has never smoked, drinks wine only on occasion, runs for 25 min two-three times a week, I am five-eight, and mostly wear a size twelve (unless I'm in a high end store that likes to discourage fatties). I DO NOT think I am at great risk for a heart attack nor do I think that I am fat. I am beginning to think I have some sort of warped opinion in my head about my size because she certainly seems to think I am a fattie. She has now referred me to a nutritionist, even though I eat relatively healthy because if I cooked shit foods that would make me a bad mother too. So does she also think I am a bad mother?

Tell me something, aren't doctor's suppose to make you feel better and not worse?

October 08, 2009

WTF Wal-Mart Shoppers

I can't help but share the link to a website that I visited yesterday. I was in tears because I was laughing so hard. The site is called People of Wal-Mart and it is basically pictures of people and things in and around Wal-Mart’s of America.

http://www.peopleofwalmart.com/

Two things need to be said about the people featured on this website: 1. WTF were you thinking? Did you really think that a limo with a cow on the roof taking a dump on the trunk is an appropriate form of transportation? No, I think not. 2. Bravo for having the guts and confidence to wear things like head-to-toe tie-dye even though it is social suicide and undeniably offensive to those that have to look at you.

Anyway, check it out. It's like watching Springer; you can't help but feel a little better about yourself knowing that you are not featured in one of the photos, but then again maybe you are. And if you are, go ahead and smack yourself and then your horrible friends who lie to you when you ask them if you look ok.

Translate