Boy! What a busy week.
On the writing front: Working like mad on my Genesis entry (and trying to avoid getting hung up on the little things that I can check out later) as well as getting more done in my current WIP. Still have to push myself a little, but it's getting better....we will talk about that in a minute.
Diet: Probably going great since I have been sick and just eating enough to keep alive. Bleck. Well, at least I reattained my plateau weight and am now still sitting at it waiting for it to drop. I'm eating less, moving more and I cannot get out of this weight. I still have ten pounds to go! It would probably help if I got the desk out of the living room so that I can have the floor space for my exercises again, eh? Yeah, gonna work on that too since hubby is home and he needs to make some repairs to the desk so it will stand on it's own. :0)
Reviews: Watched part of Kindom of Heaven last night. I was exhausted and fell asleep during it (no this doesn't say anything for the movie, I fall asleep during the most interesting of CSIs too. If I am tired, I am tired and that is all she wrote, lol.) What I saw was interesting, weird, maybe but I think the set up was good. I don't want to give any spoilers but if they treated Templar knights like that, then I am sure glad my nephew is wearing a different Renaissance outfit this year. :D
Which reminds me, I really need to get busy making our new ones, but I am hung up on mine because I cannot find the exact linen I want for the chemise and sleeves. I will keep looking I guess and maybe I will find it. I saw it last year, but this year it is mysteriously missing. Frustrating. And I cannot decide on what material to make my neice's gown this year. A pattern I think, but since she is young, not too dark. Sigh. My material is all picked out, with the exception of the linen, and I am making myself a new cloak. Well, I have to now because I already gave my niece my old one, since she loved that material so much.
The other night as I sat NOT writing because I have been suffering from mental deflection....I was occupying myself with other writerly things. Anything but writing. I had the word documents pulled up, but I mean, who were we kidding? Nothing was getting added or edited. Dead in the water. So my friend Imed me and we talked. We talked about her block (I was even in denial about mine). She mostly had hers figured out, but I suddenly realized that both of us were suffering from fear. Fear of failure, fear of sucess, fear of being bad, fear of being good: who knows. Everything I said to her could be applied to me!
Okay, had a foothold. I was suffering from fear. What to do? Get over it! Right? Right. Trust God. Right. Another easy one. Or was it? This contenment thing is new to me. Okay, what was I afraid of? I would trust God and He would use me as He needed. Great. Got that. Now what? Write. Still not so easy. The words eeeeked out of me. Pray. So I did.
The next day I was pulling into Panera's to pick up the bagels for work. I'd already had a loooooong morning. (Woke up three times in two hours for different things, not of the least was a desperate need to pray for one of my friends, which had never ever happened to me before.) I was listening to the Christian radio station and since I was running late I was listening to Woodrow Kroll on Back to the Bible. He's been doing a series on Tithing. It has been beneficial for me to listen to, I might add. This morning he was continuing on this theme and I can't remember much of what was said, cause I had to wait for a person who had a nicer car and probably a more important job than me, judgeing by the way she was driving to get out of the lot. Anyway just as I found the perfect slot by the door, the voice through the radio says some verse in the Bible and then "You reap what you sow. It's ridiculous to go out to your field and expect a great harvest if you haven't sown ANY seeds."
Immediate connection to my writing. How could I expect ANY results since I hadn't put anything into it? I hadn't sown anything to expect anything. I had to put effort in to get any out and in order to write the stories that God needs, I had to trust Him to give them to me.
So now I am writing. It is still slow, but it is coming and I know God is watching. He didn't call me to be perfect, He called me to write and write I shall, the rest is up to Him. I am but a humble servant. (and grateful to be able to be such to Him)
I have a quandry, however. The people who usually crit my work aren't going to be able to help me with my Genesis entry because two of them are involved with the contest. Soooo that leaves me feeling a little nervous about sending in the entry. Okay, I know I need to lean on God and trust Him. Thank you for pointing that out.
I think since September, He has been showing me how much I relied on others, you know, the someones with skin on. When in truth if all I had was God, that would be sufficient. So I am learning to be content in whatever state I find myself in. And sometimes I can even find joy. That is my goal. To find the Joy of the Lord in every area of my life.
Have a great and wonderful day. May your blessings abound.
In His Joy.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Saturday, January 21, 2006
Busted
Yeah my son caught a pic of me. We were back looking at the racing trucks, so these aren't the big boys, but still fun all the same.
Grave Digger
I put this one up because it is sitting still and you can see how kewl it is. Look near the back wheel, that is one hot axle. Besides my first love (in Monster Trucks) Bigfoot, this is my all time favorite. I think it started coming here our second year at the Monster Truck Jam. Isn't this truck gorgeous? The headlights glow red. :0)
Got my fix
I just love Monster Truck Jams. We have been going every year for my oldest son's birthday ever since he turned nine. This is a new car to us, Maximum Destruction. I love this one and the driver knew what he was doing. He won the racing and the freestyle tonight.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Houston, we have a.....Goal?
Imagine that, I blogged without being threatened. :0)
I have a correction to make on the previous blog. Me, being the fiction writer and drama queen, said NO ONE offered to take over. My husband actually took over a few times so I could run get supplies, once to go to church, and once to go to the doctor when my tendonitis flaired up, and would occasionally come down in the middle of the night to give mom a drink of water. He and the kids were the only help I had.
I talk to myself. I don't mean mutterings and such, although I do that, I mean full blown conversations. Today I was at work, doing my morning routine, but I was talking to someone who was preparing their breakfast at that time. I trotted in the kitchen and trotted back out, my mouth running the whole time, don't remember what I was talking about....when I turned around. The person I had been talking to (yes, the one besides myself) was missing. There was, however, a guy standing there watching me with the most....curious expression on his face. Don't you hate it when that happens. I didn't even have my voice recorder handy to make myself look less crazy. :0)
Okay, now to my goal. Ahem! I didn't even mean to make it. I was reading a newsletter from a writer friend and a woman I admire greatly, when I realized that everything she wrote, even if she was undergoing trials, she wrote with great JOY. And I thought Wow, what a pleasure to read anything she writes. She loves the Lord and the joy just pours from her in waves and.....she pleasured in just being able to be alive and serve Him. And she has been like that since the first time I "met" her online. (Okay, I'm talking about Kim Vogel Sawyer.) She is like a beam of sunlight. She is up to her ears in writing contracts (and I've seen some samples of her writing and know why; she's good, people, and she has a book coming out late spring or early summer, if I'm correct, so look for it, you won't want to miss it).
And I thought, oh if God would bless me like that. I could leave my job and focus on Him and my writing and my family more.
I seem to have a problem with contentment. I need to learn to let my joy come through where I am. To be happy in the here and now and not focus on the someday. God has a plan and I need to be happy to be in His service, no matter if some work from a mansion and I work from a house that is needing more work than the Titanic AFTER it sank. Even if every morning I have to get up and go .... to THAT place, where, when my time is done for the day I come home and live my 'real' life.
I need to thank God, with sincerety for all those things I consider trials because that means He thinks that I am strong enough to handle them. And my verse today talked about God not letting you get more temptation than you could bear, that He leaves a door open for you. Now He is more sure of my ability to handle things than I am, but hey, I try to live up to His expectations on good days.
I need to learn to let the Joy of the Lord shine through me at all times. No matter my circumstances. I am thankful for so many things and yet I seem to like to complain. Well, no more. I am going to focus on the positive and not the negative. That is just one of the things I need to work on, but hey, I know I need as much work as my house, lol. One thing at a time is all I can handle.
Anyway. I would like to say to the song leader at church tonight....nice going. You remember in yesterday's post I talked about two years ago, well Martin Luther King, Jr.s birthday was the day, but the 18, was the date. Today, two years ago. And at church, the first song he choose was Precious Memories. I have had trouble with that song ever since Mom died because her mom loved the song and as a result so did she...they sang it at her mom's funeral....and at my request, we sang it at Mom's. I love the song too, but to this day I am unable to sing it through without leaving the auditorium in tears. All I can hear is my mother singing that song. (And folks, she couldn't sing, yet, that is one sound I love to hear in my head, the sound of her singing hymns as she went about her chores). So as soon as I saw which song it was, I braced myself. My niece, bless her heart, she's only 12, but she knew this was a tough song for Aunt to sit through and what does she do? She reaches over and takes my hand in her precious hand and gives me courage. So I made it through the first verse by NOT allowing myself to imagine my mom singing it. Focus on the words. Doing good, right? Then the second verse.....loving mother.......memories from my childhood....(I don't have the exact words so don't send me mean comments about how I got it wrong). Needless to say, focusing on the words had not been the smart thing to do. The words were the reason my grandmother loved that song. But with my niece holding my hand, and the kleenix gripped in my other hand, I made it without having to leave the room.
God is still working on me. Most of the time He uses gentle hands as He molds me to His will. Sometimes, He whacks me upside the noggin. And sometimes, He puts me through the fire.
And I will face this with Joy, because when He finishes, and I see my Beloved Father in Heaven (if I can get off my face long enough, cause that is probably where I will be) I will be refined by God. Anyone remember that song, He Who Began a Good Work in You....will be faithful to complete it....
God is faithful and I rest in that.
Hugs!
I have a correction to make on the previous blog. Me, being the fiction writer and drama queen, said NO ONE offered to take over. My husband actually took over a few times so I could run get supplies, once to go to church, and once to go to the doctor when my tendonitis flaired up, and would occasionally come down in the middle of the night to give mom a drink of water. He and the kids were the only help I had.
I talk to myself. I don't mean mutterings and such, although I do that, I mean full blown conversations. Today I was at work, doing my morning routine, but I was talking to someone who was preparing their breakfast at that time. I trotted in the kitchen and trotted back out, my mouth running the whole time, don't remember what I was talking about....when I turned around. The person I had been talking to (yes, the one besides myself) was missing. There was, however, a guy standing there watching me with the most....curious expression on his face. Don't you hate it when that happens. I didn't even have my voice recorder handy to make myself look less crazy. :0)
Okay, now to my goal. Ahem! I didn't even mean to make it. I was reading a newsletter from a writer friend and a woman I admire greatly, when I realized that everything she wrote, even if she was undergoing trials, she wrote with great JOY. And I thought Wow, what a pleasure to read anything she writes. She loves the Lord and the joy just pours from her in waves and.....she pleasured in just being able to be alive and serve Him. And she has been like that since the first time I "met" her online. (Okay, I'm talking about Kim Vogel Sawyer.) She is like a beam of sunlight. She is up to her ears in writing contracts (and I've seen some samples of her writing and know why; she's good, people, and she has a book coming out late spring or early summer, if I'm correct, so look for it, you won't want to miss it).
And I thought, oh if God would bless me like that. I could leave my job and focus on Him and my writing and my family more.
I seem to have a problem with contentment. I need to learn to let my joy come through where I am. To be happy in the here and now and not focus on the someday. God has a plan and I need to be happy to be in His service, no matter if some work from a mansion and I work from a house that is needing more work than the Titanic AFTER it sank. Even if every morning I have to get up and go .... to THAT place, where, when my time is done for the day I come home and live my 'real' life.
I need to thank God, with sincerety for all those things I consider trials because that means He thinks that I am strong enough to handle them. And my verse today talked about God not letting you get more temptation than you could bear, that He leaves a door open for you. Now He is more sure of my ability to handle things than I am, but hey, I try to live up to His expectations on good days.
I need to learn to let the Joy of the Lord shine through me at all times. No matter my circumstances. I am thankful for so many things and yet I seem to like to complain. Well, no more. I am going to focus on the positive and not the negative. That is just one of the things I need to work on, but hey, I know I need as much work as my house, lol. One thing at a time is all I can handle.
Anyway. I would like to say to the song leader at church tonight....nice going. You remember in yesterday's post I talked about two years ago, well Martin Luther King, Jr.s birthday was the day, but the 18, was the date. Today, two years ago. And at church, the first song he choose was Precious Memories. I have had trouble with that song ever since Mom died because her mom loved the song and as a result so did she...they sang it at her mom's funeral....and at my request, we sang it at Mom's. I love the song too, but to this day I am unable to sing it through without leaving the auditorium in tears. All I can hear is my mother singing that song. (And folks, she couldn't sing, yet, that is one sound I love to hear in my head, the sound of her singing hymns as she went about her chores). So as soon as I saw which song it was, I braced myself. My niece, bless her heart, she's only 12, but she knew this was a tough song for Aunt to sit through and what does she do? She reaches over and takes my hand in her precious hand and gives me courage. So I made it through the first verse by NOT allowing myself to imagine my mom singing it. Focus on the words. Doing good, right? Then the second verse.....loving mother.......memories from my childhood....(I don't have the exact words so don't send me mean comments about how I got it wrong). Needless to say, focusing on the words had not been the smart thing to do. The words were the reason my grandmother loved that song. But with my niece holding my hand, and the kleenix gripped in my other hand, I made it without having to leave the room.
God is still working on me. Most of the time He uses gentle hands as He molds me to His will. Sometimes, He whacks me upside the noggin. And sometimes, He puts me through the fire.
And I will face this with Joy, because when He finishes, and I see my Beloved Father in Heaven (if I can get off my face long enough, cause that is probably where I will be) I will be refined by God. Anyone remember that song, He Who Began a Good Work in You....will be faithful to complete it....
God is faithful and I rest in that.
Hugs!
Monday, January 16, 2006
Off the charts Stress Factor!
Can I stop this wacky merrygoround? Last weekend, last week, this past weekend, yipes! Even today was a crazy race. I need to get off and catch my breath.
I am so behind on my Bible reading it is not funny, but I am going to catch up.
It seems that the evil one has laid snares for my unsuspecting feet by making me so busy I can't find the time for writing. But that is okay, I am finding time anyway because this is what God wants me to do. It doesn't really matter if I am good or not. God wants me to write and write I shall.
I wanted to reconnect with the pleasure I used to feel when I wrote, but I didn't know how. I used to could sit and write chapters on end, the stories would pour from me. Two years ago today, all that changed. My whole life was to change in but a second of time. My mother suffered a seizure while sitting in the chair watching TV while I was preparing dinner. I didn't know then, that it was the beginning of the end. As I look back I writhe in shame at the selfish prayers I sent upward during my "solitary" confinement with my mother at home as a total transfer and needing me to do everything for her. I wish I had been more gracious. I was a loving daughter and I took good care of her, but I wish I would have had prettier thoughts in my head. I needed a break and no one ever offered to take over, not even for a few minutes. My showers were hurried with the kids on standby to warn me should Mom wake up and need me. Two months later she suffered another stroke and only a couple weeks after that, God called her home.
Somehow during that time I lost the joy of writing and yet I can't NOT write. I still struggle. I still cannot find the joy I used to have. I pray for it to return.
The last couple weeks at my job have been unreal, that is where the stress factor tops out. I wake up with dread hovering over my heart every morning at having to go to that awful place. It shouldn't be awful, but it is. I love to work alone, but I hate feeling totally cut off from everything. All Thanksgiving and December and even up to New Years, they had all kinds of parties and get togethers. Guess how many I was invited to? Not one. Really makes me feel like an important part of the company, wouldn't you think? And not to take the senior officers too lightly, I got an email from my boss who happens to be the Vice President of Human Resources...and she said that Monday was a day that a particular company was going to buy lunch for the employees so I didn't need to buy any food for that day....in fact I could leave early. (Not that I minded leaving early, but my goodness, talk about feeling unwanted.) However, I clocked out promptly at eleven and they still had me hang around for 15 minutes putting the shindig I wasn't invited to together!! Unpaid because I had already clocked out.
Anyway, I'm ranting. I would appreciate prayers for discernment in this area and for God to show me clearly what to do. And if it is His will that I continue on in this employment that He bless me with the peace and grace to deal with it. Let me be a light.
I also felt led to enter the Geneisis contest. I am working on my entry.
I took my Alphie to work and have several chapters of my wip on it. Today I actually got involved in the writing and had fun creating. I hoped to continue it when I got home, but things got crazy and this is the first real chance I have had to sit and write.
I am currently reading Black Sands by Colleen Coble (wonderful read, run out and buy this book...or the entire series, you won't be sorry. Colleen is as awesome a writer as she is a woman of God.) I'm also reading Dawn of a Thousand Nights by Tricia Goyer. Oh my! Talk about gripping. Another wonderful must read.
And if you all are still in the praying frame of mind....my husband is due to have minor surgery this Friday, please keep him in your prayers. He will work that night and the next day too. Then we are taking all the four kids to the Monster Truck jam on Saturday night for my oldest son's birthday (this is an annual thing, but the first time we have taken the younger two of the bunch [our niece and nephew] with us). They are gonna love it!
Diet is going well. Sometimes I still feel fat. Usually when I am PMSing. Needing one of those ten pound PMS size bags of M & Ms with peanuts or the Reeses pieces. Mmmmm. ;0)
I just wanted to let you guys know that I am fine, if a little harassed. I am making writing progress.
I really have some wonderful friends who keep checking on me and pulling me out of my self imposed hole. How do some of you know just where I go and when and why? (Would Mir stand up and answer that please? lol)
Have a wonderful night and hopefully next time I will have some insight. I have these wonderful profound thoughts....I really do, but I lose them before I get to paper (not to mention it is really hard to write and drive at the same time). My oldest son found my voice recorder so maybe I won't loose those thoughts. :0)
Night all! Big hugs!
I am so behind on my Bible reading it is not funny, but I am going to catch up.
It seems that the evil one has laid snares for my unsuspecting feet by making me so busy I can't find the time for writing. But that is okay, I am finding time anyway because this is what God wants me to do. It doesn't really matter if I am good or not. God wants me to write and write I shall.
I wanted to reconnect with the pleasure I used to feel when I wrote, but I didn't know how. I used to could sit and write chapters on end, the stories would pour from me. Two years ago today, all that changed. My whole life was to change in but a second of time. My mother suffered a seizure while sitting in the chair watching TV while I was preparing dinner. I didn't know then, that it was the beginning of the end. As I look back I writhe in shame at the selfish prayers I sent upward during my "solitary" confinement with my mother at home as a total transfer and needing me to do everything for her. I wish I had been more gracious. I was a loving daughter and I took good care of her, but I wish I would have had prettier thoughts in my head. I needed a break and no one ever offered to take over, not even for a few minutes. My showers were hurried with the kids on standby to warn me should Mom wake up and need me. Two months later she suffered another stroke and only a couple weeks after that, God called her home.
Somehow during that time I lost the joy of writing and yet I can't NOT write. I still struggle. I still cannot find the joy I used to have. I pray for it to return.
The last couple weeks at my job have been unreal, that is where the stress factor tops out. I wake up with dread hovering over my heart every morning at having to go to that awful place. It shouldn't be awful, but it is. I love to work alone, but I hate feeling totally cut off from everything. All Thanksgiving and December and even up to New Years, they had all kinds of parties and get togethers. Guess how many I was invited to? Not one. Really makes me feel like an important part of the company, wouldn't you think? And not to take the senior officers too lightly, I got an email from my boss who happens to be the Vice President of Human Resources...and she said that Monday was a day that a particular company was going to buy lunch for the employees so I didn't need to buy any food for that day....in fact I could leave early. (Not that I minded leaving early, but my goodness, talk about feeling unwanted.) However, I clocked out promptly at eleven and they still had me hang around for 15 minutes putting the shindig I wasn't invited to together!! Unpaid because I had already clocked out.
Anyway, I'm ranting. I would appreciate prayers for discernment in this area and for God to show me clearly what to do. And if it is His will that I continue on in this employment that He bless me with the peace and grace to deal with it. Let me be a light.
I also felt led to enter the Geneisis contest. I am working on my entry.
I took my Alphie to work and have several chapters of my wip on it. Today I actually got involved in the writing and had fun creating. I hoped to continue it when I got home, but things got crazy and this is the first real chance I have had to sit and write.
I am currently reading Black Sands by Colleen Coble (wonderful read, run out and buy this book...or the entire series, you won't be sorry. Colleen is as awesome a writer as she is a woman of God.) I'm also reading Dawn of a Thousand Nights by Tricia Goyer. Oh my! Talk about gripping. Another wonderful must read.
And if you all are still in the praying frame of mind....my husband is due to have minor surgery this Friday, please keep him in your prayers. He will work that night and the next day too. Then we are taking all the four kids to the Monster Truck jam on Saturday night for my oldest son's birthday (this is an annual thing, but the first time we have taken the younger two of the bunch [our niece and nephew] with us). They are gonna love it!
Diet is going well. Sometimes I still feel fat. Usually when I am PMSing. Needing one of those ten pound PMS size bags of M & Ms with peanuts or the Reeses pieces. Mmmmm. ;0)
I just wanted to let you guys know that I am fine, if a little harassed. I am making writing progress.
I really have some wonderful friends who keep checking on me and pulling me out of my self imposed hole. How do some of you know just where I go and when and why? (Would Mir stand up and answer that please? lol)
Have a wonderful night and hopefully next time I will have some insight. I have these wonderful profound thoughts....I really do, but I lose them before I get to paper (not to mention it is really hard to write and drive at the same time). My oldest son found my voice recorder so maybe I won't loose those thoughts. :0)
Night all! Big hugs!
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Bible Challenge continued
I read most of today's reading yesterday (on accident, which may explain why it took me so long to finish, lol).
I didn't mean for yesterday's post to be a pity post or party. I am simply aware of what is happening. You could pray for me if you wanted. :0) It would be appreciated. I learned that it is not at all uncommon for people to become depressed or down after the hustle and bustle of all the holidays crammed into such a short time.
As far as writing goes. I went over three chapters last night (and stayed up too long as a result--ever fall asleep standing up like I did at work today?). I got a good honest crit from two of my friends and I am ready to forge ahead. I did get part of a chapter written at work, and some more plotting figured out. I sure have some kinks to work out, and I am going to work on that here in just a bit. After I get dinner out of the oven.
If you're reading this blog and you have done the challenge, let me know how you are doing. I find that reading at this speed helps me pick up things I might have missed had I stopped and studied like I usually do. If that makes any kind of sense.
Hope everyone has a blessed night.
I didn't mean for yesterday's post to be a pity post or party. I am simply aware of what is happening. You could pray for me if you wanted. :0) It would be appreciated. I learned that it is not at all uncommon for people to become depressed or down after the hustle and bustle of all the holidays crammed into such a short time.
As far as writing goes. I went over three chapters last night (and stayed up too long as a result--ever fall asleep standing up like I did at work today?). I got a good honest crit from two of my friends and I am ready to forge ahead. I did get part of a chapter written at work, and some more plotting figured out. I sure have some kinks to work out, and I am going to work on that here in just a bit. After I get dinner out of the oven.
If you're reading this blog and you have done the challenge, let me know how you are doing. I find that reading at this speed helps me pick up things I might have missed had I stopped and studied like I usually do. If that makes any kind of sense.
Hope everyone has a blessed night.
Monday, January 02, 2006
The enemy is at work.....
Hi there!
I am feeling left out. I said in my last post everyone I know was talking about their word for the year. No one asked for mine but I gave it anyway. And now that I catch up on blogs, I read way more than I am read, lol, I find out that everyone is talking about goals.
But no one asked for mine and I am not going to give any. Not only is no one really interested on how I plan to spend my time this year, lol, but I have no earthly idea how to set a goal and then NOT sabatoge myself. No resolutions. I have monthly goals that I hope will turn into habit...er, good ones that is. Unfortunately I find that bad ones are much easier to pick up than good ones and would love to know why that is.
I didn't get much accomplished today and I am feeling really low about my writing skills, or lack thereof. Somewhere along the line I seemed to have lost the joy of creating in the hard work of writing a salable piece. I need to regain the joy. I don't know how to do it but pray.
And then I sat here and wondered why I bother with this blog because not many read it and it is more likely a waste of space.
Not very productive thoughts I know. I told you the enemy is at work.
Then I marvel at posts of others and wonder if I ever have a thought that really touches anyone. (pitiful isn't it?)
Then I got an message from a dear friend that she is going to be passing through and wants to see me for dinner!!! That made my day. And suddenly I feel better about everything. Amazing how a friend can lift your spirits, isn't it?
I made it through day two of my Bible reading. Fascinating stuff. Then I found out that I could sign up for the challenge on the website...belatedly....so I did that.
My writing? I seem to be spinning my wheels in that area, still trying to work my way through reading it all before I type another word. I hope to get more done tomorrow, writing that is...not reading.
And somewhere between here and there I seemed to have lost the reason for this post if there ever was one. So I better just hush and go to bed. ;0)
Praying for everyone that reads my blog. Hugs!
I am feeling left out. I said in my last post everyone I know was talking about their word for the year. No one asked for mine but I gave it anyway. And now that I catch up on blogs, I read way more than I am read, lol, I find out that everyone is talking about goals.
But no one asked for mine and I am not going to give any. Not only is no one really interested on how I plan to spend my time this year, lol, but I have no earthly idea how to set a goal and then NOT sabatoge myself. No resolutions. I have monthly goals that I hope will turn into habit...er, good ones that is. Unfortunately I find that bad ones are much easier to pick up than good ones and would love to know why that is.
I didn't get much accomplished today and I am feeling really low about my writing skills, or lack thereof. Somewhere along the line I seemed to have lost the joy of creating in the hard work of writing a salable piece. I need to regain the joy. I don't know how to do it but pray.
And then I sat here and wondered why I bother with this blog because not many read it and it is more likely a waste of space.
Not very productive thoughts I know. I told you the enemy is at work.
Then I marvel at posts of others and wonder if I ever have a thought that really touches anyone. (pitiful isn't it?)
Then I got an message from a dear friend that she is going to be passing through and wants to see me for dinner!!! That made my day. And suddenly I feel better about everything. Amazing how a friend can lift your spirits, isn't it?
I made it through day two of my Bible reading. Fascinating stuff. Then I found out that I could sign up for the challenge on the website...belatedly....so I did that.
My writing? I seem to be spinning my wheels in that area, still trying to work my way through reading it all before I type another word. I hope to get more done tomorrow, writing that is...not reading.
And somewhere between here and there I seemed to have lost the reason for this post if there ever was one. So I better just hush and go to bed. ;0)
Praying for everyone that reads my blog. Hugs!
Sunday, January 01, 2006
January Website Winner
Hi all!
I drew the names for the winners.
Melissa Lowe Richardson won A Time to Protect by Lois Richer
and
Sally Bradley won Even in the Darkness by Shirlee McCoy.
Alot of people I know are talking about their word for the year. I thought and prayed about it figuring my word could be something I would focus on in my Christian growth in the coming year.
The word that kept coming to me was Purity. I thought, that word is not my word. Lord, please give me an awesome and profound word, something I can really wrap my head around. PURITY. I was tempted to look around and see whose word it was. It was no use. It is my word.
As I figure out what it means, I will keep you upadated.
I have taken up the challenge of my friend Marilyn Griffith to read the Bible in ninety days. So I set my e-Sword Daily Bible Reading program to three months. I ended up with 92 days, but I have figured out how to get around that and have managed to drop it down to 90 days. :0)
Today I read from the first of Genesis to the end of the 24th chapter. Interesting stuff. Ended with Isaac and Rebekah getting married.
I just spent time with my kids and husband around the fire. He is burning a stump from one of the trees that fell. Dh said everytime he burned himself on the fire he thought of hell. My oldest son said, "Stop burning yourself." My husband said, "My point exactly."
It will be nice to get back into my normal routine. I don't make New Year's Resolutions per say, but I do make monthly goals (January's goal is to incorporate exercise into the mornings so that it will more likely get done).
I of course want to do better and the first of the year seems like a clean slate and a chance to say, "Please Lord, make me better. Help me to thirst after You and to love You more." That is my prayer for myself and for all of you.
Speaking of prayer, I am updating my prayer journal so if anyone has any specific or just general request, even as vague as pray for me. Just let me know. If it is to personal, feel free to contact me at heartinhome@sbcglobal.net.
I drew the names for the winners.
Melissa Lowe Richardson won A Time to Protect by Lois Richer
and
Sally Bradley won Even in the Darkness by Shirlee McCoy.
Alot of people I know are talking about their word for the year. I thought and prayed about it figuring my word could be something I would focus on in my Christian growth in the coming year.
The word that kept coming to me was Purity. I thought, that word is not my word. Lord, please give me an awesome and profound word, something I can really wrap my head around. PURITY. I was tempted to look around and see whose word it was. It was no use. It is my word.
As I figure out what it means, I will keep you upadated.
I have taken up the challenge of my friend Marilyn Griffith to read the Bible in ninety days. So I set my e-Sword Daily Bible Reading program to three months. I ended up with 92 days, but I have figured out how to get around that and have managed to drop it down to 90 days. :0)
Today I read from the first of Genesis to the end of the 24th chapter. Interesting stuff. Ended with Isaac and Rebekah getting married.
I just spent time with my kids and husband around the fire. He is burning a stump from one of the trees that fell. Dh said everytime he burned himself on the fire he thought of hell. My oldest son said, "Stop burning yourself." My husband said, "My point exactly."
It will be nice to get back into my normal routine. I don't make New Year's Resolutions per say, but I do make monthly goals (January's goal is to incorporate exercise into the mornings so that it will more likely get done).
I of course want to do better and the first of the year seems like a clean slate and a chance to say, "Please Lord, make me better. Help me to thirst after You and to love You more." That is my prayer for myself and for all of you.
Speaking of prayer, I am updating my prayer journal so if anyone has any specific or just general request, even as vague as pray for me. Just let me know. If it is to personal, feel free to contact me at heartinhome@sbcglobal.net.
An excerpt from Made Of Honor....
Enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE
I'm turning into a Chia pet.
With legs.
Little children are starting to toss dandelions when they see me. The brides of Leverhill, Illinois have taught the kiddies well. One little darling from church, a cutie with zigzag parts and snaggle teeth, wants to grow up and take my job-big flower girl. The little girl nailed it, especially about the big part, but we're not going there. Not today, with my formerly fat best friend looking like Twiggy goes bridal, while I gasp for breath in a dress fit for a train wreck. My only consolation is not having to worry about Tracey aiming a floral missile (known to some as a bouquet) at my head later on.
She wouldn't do me like that, would she? Nah. At least that's what I tell myself, but then I thought this wedding wouldn't happen either. Still, this bride is one of my closest friends and my roommate for the past three years. Tracey Cox, well, Tracey Blackman now, has picked enough baby's breath out of my teeth to know better.
Just in case though, a pint of Chunky Monkey and a pedicure appointment await me after this reception. Who knows? Tracey just might snap and throw long. Marriage does things to people. One day they're normal and the next they're inviting total strangers to wear ugly dresses in their weddings and then after the ceremony, said brides proceed to cut off all communication with members of the wedding party except for goofy Christmas photos of the newlyweds cradling an ugly dog, signed "from all of us." And don't let them actually get pregnant. Have you ever seen an entire album of birth photos? Not cute.
Do I sound bitter?
I'm not. I have friends. Sistahs even. And trying to keep up with them, keep my job and stay right with God occupies most of my time. Like now. I need to find Rochelle, my other best friend (yes, I have two) and founder of the Sassy Sistahood email list. If I don't catch up to her soon, she might make a fool of herself.
Or me.
Though my girlfriend is a paragon of virtue most days, weddings turn Rochelle into a gelatinous pool of desperation. Remember the birth photo album I mentioned? It's worse. Okay, so nothing's worse than that, but it's bad. Even the sight of me, voluptuous black woman tangled in tulips after a bouquet toss, is easier on the eyes.
Using my emergency x-ray vision (activated by squinting so hard I almost fused my contacts to my eyeballs) I glimpsed a pink satin horror similar to my own, but a set of three-inch shoulder pads blocked my view. Who would wear a power suit to a wedding-my boss. There she was, looking just as angry as when I'd left her at work last night. I ducked before she saw me, recovering from my shock that she'd even shown up. The bride, who left our office to start her own graphic design firm six months ago, insisted on inviting Naomi, her-former and my-current employer and Renee, my assistant, who was probably somewhere taking pictures of me for blackmail. She'd be giggling in my ear about this dress for the next month. At least.
My future torture aside, I was proud of Naomi for actually leaving the office (I think she secretly lives there). For her to show up at her own funeral would be the height of etiquette. Some people just don't grasp interaction, you know? And having "interacted" with Naomi daily for the past six years, I could do without her today. Besides, I needed to find Sassy Sistah #1 before she melted down and kissed somebody.
With that thought as fuel, I forced my Baker dyeables (those satin shoes that can be dyed to match your gown? I know. Prom flashbacks.) across the sprinkle of autumn leaves on the ground. Rochelle tiptoed up beside me, fanning her face, despite the growing chill. Man Mania was in full swing.
"Did you see Ryan's brother?" She said breathlessly. "From the looks of things, Tracey should have picked him."
From the reality of things. Anyone seemed a better choice. I mentally squashed the nagging doubt about my friend's hour-old marriage. Thoughts like that were getting me nowhere. It was done. God would have to take it from here. Me worrying myself to an ulcer before I got back to work on Monday was definitely a waste of resources.
I shook my head at Rochelle and considered reaching out and shaking hers. This time she was really in the zone. I spoke right into her ear, hoping it would jar her brain. "I wasn't really paying attention to the brother of the groom." Or any other man around here. What would be the point? The last guy I dated had just married my best friend.
Rochelle made a clucking sound. "You should have been paying attention. His brother is foine." She rolled her neck for effect, but didn't quite pull it off. I just stared. She'd been watching too much UPN again.
"Come on." I tugged at her arm and started back across the smattering of red-gold leaves, away from Mr. Foine. She'd hate me later if I didn't. If a brothah showed up tomorrow in response to Rochelle's flirting, she would run for her life while dictating a restraining order into her recorder.
Usually, her wedding trance would have been long since broken. But this was Tracey's wedding. And whether Rochelle and I were willing to admit it or not, we'd both thought that if anyone got married, it'd be one of the two of us, not the cute, fat, geek of the group. Not that Tracey was fat anymore. The plump-but-cute girl role was currently being played by moi. My midsection pressed against the strangling fabric of my dress as if in agreement.
Rochelle made a shrill sound, almost like a whistle. The weary-in-well-doing sigh. The sound she makes when she just can't take anymore. Not a good sign. Her pink leather t-strap shoes, designed by her own hand and much prettier than my castoffs from last year's spring formal, peeked from underneath her frock, several sizes smaller than my own. Our skirts skimmed the lawn every few steps. This was downright antebellum. If I didn't know better, I'd think a plantation was going to pop out of the ground any minute.
Rochelle's words cut through my thoughts. "I can't help feeling romantic on days like this. Lately, I even wonder if-"
"If what?" My body stiffened. I'd heard this speech before. All my die-hard single friends give this little talk before becoming wife wannabes. Tracey's little rant three months ago was still fresh in my mind. Rochelle? Despite her wedding breakdowns, I never thought I'd hear it from her. Well, not until Jericho graduated from high school anyway. That boy kept us all busy.
"I'm just talking," she said, moving faster. "It's nothing, really."
More like a big something, but I decided to leave it. This day had enough mess going without adding to it. "I hope the punch is good."
Rochelle nodded, gathering her skirt to gain a little speed. Good punch could cover a multitude of sins. Even Tracey marrying Ryan. (Okay, he's not so bad. He's rich, handsome and loves her to pieces. But there's just something creepy about the guy. I don't know. Forget I said anything).
While I pondered the groom's strangeness, Rochelle grabbed my wrist, digging her natural length nails into my flesh. Without looking at her, I knew it was already too late. And we'd almost made it to punchdom.
Tracey would not, could not throw that bouquet at me.
But she did.
A few inches ahead, a group of women floated onto the green in front of us, like a cloud of cotton candy. The bride broke through, holding her weapon of choice, peach hybrid roses from the Leverhill Botanical Gardens.
"Run!" Rochelle screamed with the concern of a fire marshal at a brewing blaze.
Obeying her command was my first mistake. The stop-drop-and-roll technique is always best to achieve my goals: avoiding head trauma, keeping the contacts in and keeping the dress covering my backside.
As previously stated, I deviated from this method.
When nothing tagged the back of my head (seriously, they stopped aiming for my hands two summers ago) I did a dumb thing and turned around. The bouquet slapped against my forehead like a Jackie Chan sound effect. I tripped on my skirt trying to escape (she'd already nailed me, of course, but it was instinct). My dress ballooned around my waist like a giant boat made of Bubble Yum.
Then . . . the pain burned beneath my eye. What was that? I dropped to one knee, jerking the whole pink mess of me back into place, while peeking through my fingers. Something I mistook for tears trickled into my mouth. Blood.
I wobbled to my feet. "What in the world?" I'd been hit with a lot of flowers, a few small shrubs even, but no one had ever drawn blood. This was past wrong.
Rochelle hovered over me, panting and picking greenery from between my braids. Satisfied with her job on that, she peeled back my fingers and surveyed the scratch under my eye. "The thorns. Tracey forgot to have them removed. It was the only thing on her list . . . Sorry."
I took my hand off my eye. Rochelle's tone let me know that she hadn't been in on this but she had been aware of the possibility. Not for the first time, the Sassy Sistahs had made me mad. Tracey approached slowly, waving like she always does after doing something crazy. I felt my anger wash away at the sight of her silly grin. Still, this was a bit much. "Thorns? You've got to be kidding."
"Wish I was." Rochelle dabbed my face with a napkin from her clutch. No doubt there was a first aid kit, needle and thread, makeup bag and two shades of pantyhose crammed in that tiny thing. How she'd even managed to hold on to it while trying to drag me to safety was beyond me, but I'd long given up on trying to figure out Chelle's superwoman capabilities. She just has skills like that. I'm lucky to keep my shoes on. (Although I did manage to keep my contacts in. A new accomplishment).
Just before Tracey reached us, someone from the groom's family intercepted and wheeled her away. The beginning of the end. She was no longer my roommate, my best friend. She was someone's wife. We walked past Tracey, giving us the "be right there" signals.
Rochelle smiled. I sulked. "Knowing Tracey, she probably thought it was more Christ-like to leave the thorns on." Mock disgust sounded in my voice. I was trying to be mad and couldn't.
"Hush you," Rochelle said, using our code phrase for when one started in on another of the three. It was the standard defense, but right now I felt like pushing past it.
Tracey joined us and slipped an arm around-well, almost around-my waist. "Got you, didn't I? Sorry about your eye though."
"You'd better be glad I love y'all," I whispered as people packed in around us. Pain seared my scalp where Rochelle had raked a stem through my hair.
"Maybe if you'd helped with the wedding errands, you could have taken care of those thorns." Rochelle said, reaching back in her purse for her dabbing cloth.
Ouch. That hurt way more than my eye. The truth always does. I pushed away Rochelle's hand, preferring to blink my own way back to health. In a minute, there'd be no skin left on the right side of my face. That girl was dangerous with a Kleenex.
Tracey started to say something, but was called away . . . again. I took a deep breath, watching her walk to behind the punch table with her mother-in-law. Where was the groom? Why was I the one getting jealous instead of him? Like I said, he's a little weird. This whole deal was. But there was no use trying to explain that to Rochelle. She wasn't trying to hear it. So I did what I always do-tried to explain it anyway.
"Look, Rochelle, I already regret not helping out with the wedding. But I just wasn't sure about this. When I dated Ryan-"
She tried the neck thing again, with success this time. "Dated? Is that what you call it? That mess was so boring he just stopped calling and came back to the singles group. So he wasn't for you. No reason he can't be the one for Tracey." In a deft motion, she grabbed a napkin from the table next to us, wadded it quickly and removed several layers of my epidermis. "There's just one last spot . . ."
She reached out again, but I shook my head, thinking I should have thrown in some cookies with the Ben and Jerry's waiting for me at home. Somehow we wandered into the punch line. We both relaxed allowing the tide of people to pull us forward. Only when a gruesome Pepto-pink cake with what looked like the watermelon gel I brushed my teeth with for filling came into view was I totally appalled. I definitely should have helped with the wedding plans. The gold-colored punch in the bowl beside the cake monster looked good though.
It would have to be.
From MADE OF HONOR, by Marilynn Griffith, Steeple Hill
ISBN 0373785542, January 2006, Copyright © 2006 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited. ® and tm are trademarks of the publisher. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
CHAPTER ONE
I'm turning into a Chia pet.
With legs.
Little children are starting to toss dandelions when they see me. The brides of Leverhill, Illinois have taught the kiddies well. One little darling from church, a cutie with zigzag parts and snaggle teeth, wants to grow up and take my job-big flower girl. The little girl nailed it, especially about the big part, but we're not going there. Not today, with my formerly fat best friend looking like Twiggy goes bridal, while I gasp for breath in a dress fit for a train wreck. My only consolation is not having to worry about Tracey aiming a floral missile (known to some as a bouquet) at my head later on.
She wouldn't do me like that, would she? Nah. At least that's what I tell myself, but then I thought this wedding wouldn't happen either. Still, this bride is one of my closest friends and my roommate for the past three years. Tracey Cox, well, Tracey Blackman now, has picked enough baby's breath out of my teeth to know better.
Just in case though, a pint of Chunky Monkey and a pedicure appointment await me after this reception. Who knows? Tracey just might snap and throw long. Marriage does things to people. One day they're normal and the next they're inviting total strangers to wear ugly dresses in their weddings and then after the ceremony, said brides proceed to cut off all communication with members of the wedding party except for goofy Christmas photos of the newlyweds cradling an ugly dog, signed "from all of us." And don't let them actually get pregnant. Have you ever seen an entire album of birth photos? Not cute.
Do I sound bitter?
I'm not. I have friends. Sistahs even. And trying to keep up with them, keep my job and stay right with God occupies most of my time. Like now. I need to find Rochelle, my other best friend (yes, I have two) and founder of the Sassy Sistahood email list. If I don't catch up to her soon, she might make a fool of herself.
Or me.
Though my girlfriend is a paragon of virtue most days, weddings turn Rochelle into a gelatinous pool of desperation. Remember the birth photo album I mentioned? It's worse. Okay, so nothing's worse than that, but it's bad. Even the sight of me, voluptuous black woman tangled in tulips after a bouquet toss, is easier on the eyes.
Using my emergency x-ray vision (activated by squinting so hard I almost fused my contacts to my eyeballs) I glimpsed a pink satin horror similar to my own, but a set of three-inch shoulder pads blocked my view. Who would wear a power suit to a wedding-my boss. There she was, looking just as angry as when I'd left her at work last night. I ducked before she saw me, recovering from my shock that she'd even shown up. The bride, who left our office to start her own graphic design firm six months ago, insisted on inviting Naomi, her-former and my-current employer and Renee, my assistant, who was probably somewhere taking pictures of me for blackmail. She'd be giggling in my ear about this dress for the next month. At least.
My future torture aside, I was proud of Naomi for actually leaving the office (I think she secretly lives there). For her to show up at her own funeral would be the height of etiquette. Some people just don't grasp interaction, you know? And having "interacted" with Naomi daily for the past six years, I could do without her today. Besides, I needed to find Sassy Sistah #1 before she melted down and kissed somebody.
With that thought as fuel, I forced my Baker dyeables (those satin shoes that can be dyed to match your gown? I know. Prom flashbacks.) across the sprinkle of autumn leaves on the ground. Rochelle tiptoed up beside me, fanning her face, despite the growing chill. Man Mania was in full swing.
"Did you see Ryan's brother?" She said breathlessly. "From the looks of things, Tracey should have picked him."
From the reality of things. Anyone seemed a better choice. I mentally squashed the nagging doubt about my friend's hour-old marriage. Thoughts like that were getting me nowhere. It was done. God would have to take it from here. Me worrying myself to an ulcer before I got back to work on Monday was definitely a waste of resources.
I shook my head at Rochelle and considered reaching out and shaking hers. This time she was really in the zone. I spoke right into her ear, hoping it would jar her brain. "I wasn't really paying attention to the brother of the groom." Or any other man around here. What would be the point? The last guy I dated had just married my best friend.
Rochelle made a clucking sound. "You should have been paying attention. His brother is foine." She rolled her neck for effect, but didn't quite pull it off. I just stared. She'd been watching too much UPN again.
"Come on." I tugged at her arm and started back across the smattering of red-gold leaves, away from Mr. Foine. She'd hate me later if I didn't. If a brothah showed up tomorrow in response to Rochelle's flirting, she would run for her life while dictating a restraining order into her recorder.
Usually, her wedding trance would have been long since broken. But this was Tracey's wedding. And whether Rochelle and I were willing to admit it or not, we'd both thought that if anyone got married, it'd be one of the two of us, not the cute, fat, geek of the group. Not that Tracey was fat anymore. The plump-but-cute girl role was currently being played by moi. My midsection pressed against the strangling fabric of my dress as if in agreement.
Rochelle made a shrill sound, almost like a whistle. The weary-in-well-doing sigh. The sound she makes when she just can't take anymore. Not a good sign. Her pink leather t-strap shoes, designed by her own hand and much prettier than my castoffs from last year's spring formal, peeked from underneath her frock, several sizes smaller than my own. Our skirts skimmed the lawn every few steps. This was downright antebellum. If I didn't know better, I'd think a plantation was going to pop out of the ground any minute.
Rochelle's words cut through my thoughts. "I can't help feeling romantic on days like this. Lately, I even wonder if-"
"If what?" My body stiffened. I'd heard this speech before. All my die-hard single friends give this little talk before becoming wife wannabes. Tracey's little rant three months ago was still fresh in my mind. Rochelle? Despite her wedding breakdowns, I never thought I'd hear it from her. Well, not until Jericho graduated from high school anyway. That boy kept us all busy.
"I'm just talking," she said, moving faster. "It's nothing, really."
More like a big something, but I decided to leave it. This day had enough mess going without adding to it. "I hope the punch is good."
Rochelle nodded, gathering her skirt to gain a little speed. Good punch could cover a multitude of sins. Even Tracey marrying Ryan. (Okay, he's not so bad. He's rich, handsome and loves her to pieces. But there's just something creepy about the guy. I don't know. Forget I said anything).
While I pondered the groom's strangeness, Rochelle grabbed my wrist, digging her natural length nails into my flesh. Without looking at her, I knew it was already too late. And we'd almost made it to punchdom.
Tracey would not, could not throw that bouquet at me.
But she did.
A few inches ahead, a group of women floated onto the green in front of us, like a cloud of cotton candy. The bride broke through, holding her weapon of choice, peach hybrid roses from the Leverhill Botanical Gardens.
"Run!" Rochelle screamed with the concern of a fire marshal at a brewing blaze.
Obeying her command was my first mistake. The stop-drop-and-roll technique is always best to achieve my goals: avoiding head trauma, keeping the contacts in and keeping the dress covering my backside.
As previously stated, I deviated from this method.
When nothing tagged the back of my head (seriously, they stopped aiming for my hands two summers ago) I did a dumb thing and turned around. The bouquet slapped against my forehead like a Jackie Chan sound effect. I tripped on my skirt trying to escape (she'd already nailed me, of course, but it was instinct). My dress ballooned around my waist like a giant boat made of Bubble Yum.
Then . . . the pain burned beneath my eye. What was that? I dropped to one knee, jerking the whole pink mess of me back into place, while peeking through my fingers. Something I mistook for tears trickled into my mouth. Blood.
I wobbled to my feet. "What in the world?" I'd been hit with a lot of flowers, a few small shrubs even, but no one had ever drawn blood. This was past wrong.
Rochelle hovered over me, panting and picking greenery from between my braids. Satisfied with her job on that, she peeled back my fingers and surveyed the scratch under my eye. "The thorns. Tracey forgot to have them removed. It was the only thing on her list . . . Sorry."
I took my hand off my eye. Rochelle's tone let me know that she hadn't been in on this but she had been aware of the possibility. Not for the first time, the Sassy Sistahs had made me mad. Tracey approached slowly, waving like she always does after doing something crazy. I felt my anger wash away at the sight of her silly grin. Still, this was a bit much. "Thorns? You've got to be kidding."
"Wish I was." Rochelle dabbed my face with a napkin from her clutch. No doubt there was a first aid kit, needle and thread, makeup bag and two shades of pantyhose crammed in that tiny thing. How she'd even managed to hold on to it while trying to drag me to safety was beyond me, but I'd long given up on trying to figure out Chelle's superwoman capabilities. She just has skills like that. I'm lucky to keep my shoes on. (Although I did manage to keep my contacts in. A new accomplishment).
Just before Tracey reached us, someone from the groom's family intercepted and wheeled her away. The beginning of the end. She was no longer my roommate, my best friend. She was someone's wife. We walked past Tracey, giving us the "be right there" signals.
Rochelle smiled. I sulked. "Knowing Tracey, she probably thought it was more Christ-like to leave the thorns on." Mock disgust sounded in my voice. I was trying to be mad and couldn't.
"Hush you," Rochelle said, using our code phrase for when one started in on another of the three. It was the standard defense, but right now I felt like pushing past it.
Tracey joined us and slipped an arm around-well, almost around-my waist. "Got you, didn't I? Sorry about your eye though."
"You'd better be glad I love y'all," I whispered as people packed in around us. Pain seared my scalp where Rochelle had raked a stem through my hair.
"Maybe if you'd helped with the wedding errands, you could have taken care of those thorns." Rochelle said, reaching back in her purse for her dabbing cloth.
Ouch. That hurt way more than my eye. The truth always does. I pushed away Rochelle's hand, preferring to blink my own way back to health. In a minute, there'd be no skin left on the right side of my face. That girl was dangerous with a Kleenex.
Tracey started to say something, but was called away . . . again. I took a deep breath, watching her walk to behind the punch table with her mother-in-law. Where was the groom? Why was I the one getting jealous instead of him? Like I said, he's a little weird. This whole deal was. But there was no use trying to explain that to Rochelle. She wasn't trying to hear it. So I did what I always do-tried to explain it anyway.
"Look, Rochelle, I already regret not helping out with the wedding. But I just wasn't sure about this. When I dated Ryan-"
She tried the neck thing again, with success this time. "Dated? Is that what you call it? That mess was so boring he just stopped calling and came back to the singles group. So he wasn't for you. No reason he can't be the one for Tracey." In a deft motion, she grabbed a napkin from the table next to us, wadded it quickly and removed several layers of my epidermis. "There's just one last spot . . ."
She reached out again, but I shook my head, thinking I should have thrown in some cookies with the Ben and Jerry's waiting for me at home. Somehow we wandered into the punch line. We both relaxed allowing the tide of people to pull us forward. Only when a gruesome Pepto-pink cake with what looked like the watermelon gel I brushed my teeth with for filling came into view was I totally appalled. I definitely should have helped with the wedding plans. The gold-colored punch in the bowl beside the cake monster looked good though.
It would have to be.
From MADE OF HONOR, by Marilynn Griffith, Steeple Hill
ISBN 0373785542, January 2006, Copyright © 2006 by Harlequin Enterprises Limited. ® and tm are trademarks of the publisher. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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