Wednesday, August 31, 2011
The Great Blogosphere
I'm kind of new to this blogging thing. Okay, I've been doing it on and off for 2 or 3 years. Still not quite sure what I'm doing. If you like blogging and want to connect with other bloggers and writers, here's a great way to do it. I've heard it's fun and who doesn't want to have fun? So, I'm giving it a try. If you're interested, hop on board quick, because today's the last day to join.
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Snap and Point
My friend Raelynn is a clean, organized, amazing I can-do-anything freak. You should know that I am not any of these things. If you have spent any time reading my blog, I'm sure you've figured that out. The good thing about Raelynn is that she still likes me even though I'm not like her. She has taught me many great things, one being the snap and point. I've almost mastered it. This is not to be confused with the bend and snap which under no circumstances should be done in primary while doing stretching songs according to the handbook. Ah, but that's another story.
The snap and point is just what it sounds like, you snap and point. You should do this after you say something like, "Go clean your room," or "Not until you've finished your homework," or "Get your finger out of your sister's eye." It's impressive and daunting if you do it right.
Although I can now snap and point pretty well, (it takes a fair amount of coordination), I do not get the same results as Raelynn. People MOVE when she does the SnP. Wars are ended, houses are cleaned, broken hearts are mended, the universe comes together. It's a beautiful thing. When I do the SnP, I get eye rolling, heavy sighing and yes, laughter. Mostly my own. I asked Raelynn how she first came up with the snap and point. She said that when she gets frustrated or angry, all the blood rushes to her finger and out comes a snap and a point, like a perfect spell coming from Hermione's wand. That woman (Raelynn) rocks.
I on the other hand, when I get angry or frustrated, must have a great deal of blood rushing to my back-side because I just want to sit and eat chocolate. That is why my snap and point is not truly effective. It is the snap and point of a Neville Longbottom. But he turns out all right in the end.
The snap and point is just what it sounds like, you snap and point. You should do this after you say something like, "Go clean your room," or "Not until you've finished your homework," or "Get your finger out of your sister's eye." It's impressive and daunting if you do it right.
Although I can now snap and point pretty well, (it takes a fair amount of coordination), I do not get the same results as Raelynn. People MOVE when she does the SnP. Wars are ended, houses are cleaned, broken hearts are mended, the universe comes together. It's a beautiful thing. When I do the SnP, I get eye rolling, heavy sighing and yes, laughter. Mostly my own. I asked Raelynn how she first came up with the snap and point. She said that when she gets frustrated or angry, all the blood rushes to her finger and out comes a snap and a point, like a perfect spell coming from Hermione's wand. That woman (Raelynn) rocks.
I on the other hand, when I get angry or frustrated, must have a great deal of blood rushing to my back-side because I just want to sit and eat chocolate. That is why my snap and point is not truly effective. It is the snap and point of a Neville Longbottom. But he turns out all right in the end.
 |
Raelynn's snap and point looks something like this. Intimidating. |
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Regrets Only Today
Things I regret:
1. Not going back to look at the callback list after I auditioned for BYU's dance company and the play, The Glass Menagerie and another play I can't remember the name of. I was afraid my name wouldn't be there. What if it was?
2. Remaining silent until finally my office partner, Robin, offered to take the side of the office without the window when I worked at WordPerfect 26 years ago.
3. Not asking Wendall Thayne to Morp even though I ended up being sick and not able to go anyway.
4. Not asking my mother more questions before she died.
5. Not taking more math. . . probably. . . maybe. . .
6. Not asking Laura to live with me my sophomore year at BYU when she couldn't find a place to live.
7. Not dropping everything and spending a lot of money on a plane ticket and flying out to see my mother-in-law before she died.
8. Not reading enough with my daughter, Morganne.
9. Not keeping my pictures better organized.
10. Reading Catcher in the Rye as an adult for a BYU adolescent literature class. I got an A; I should have taken the F. *
11. Hiding in my room as a teenager when my parents came home from grocery shopping so I wouldn't have to help carry in the food.
12. Not being more patient with my sisters.
13. Kissing about half of the boys I kissed.
14. Caring too much about popularity in high school.
15. Not being in a play since high school.
16. Not being nicer to people in school because I was waiting for someone to be nice to me.
17. Wearing those teeny, tiny curlers the night before my seventh grade school pictures. Yikes.
18. Having ALL those bridesmaids in all those hideous dresses because I didn't want to leave anybody out. Besides my sisters, I don't talk to a single one of those girls anymore. . .
19. Asking for that night off when I worked at Golden Golden Gate Restaurant. Maybe if I had been there I would have given the busboy a ride home and he would not have been found murdered in a nearby field the next day.
20. Telling Quin's 7th grade basketball coach that the tournament was a bad weekend for us and then hearing my son give the real reason, "I don't play on Sundays, coach."
21. Asking my 9th grade seminary teacher, in front of the whole class, what circumsion meant when we were studying the Old Testament.
What regrets do you have? If you had a do-over, what would you do differently?
*Regarding Catcher in the Rye, I happen to be very sensitive to language. Words play over and over in my head. I can't get them out. I understand that this book might be a great read for others, but not for me.
1. Not going back to look at the callback list after I auditioned for BYU's dance company and the play, The Glass Menagerie and another play I can't remember the name of. I was afraid my name wouldn't be there. What if it was?
2. Remaining silent until finally my office partner, Robin, offered to take the side of the office without the window when I worked at WordPerfect 26 years ago.
3. Not asking Wendall Thayne to Morp even though I ended up being sick and not able to go anyway.
4. Not asking my mother more questions before she died.
5. Not taking more math. . . probably. . . maybe. . .
6. Not asking Laura to live with me my sophomore year at BYU when she couldn't find a place to live.
7. Not dropping everything and spending a lot of money on a plane ticket and flying out to see my mother-in-law before she died.
8. Not reading enough with my daughter, Morganne.
9. Not keeping my pictures better organized.
10. Reading Catcher in the Rye as an adult for a BYU adolescent literature class. I got an A; I should have taken the F. *
11. Hiding in my room as a teenager when my parents came home from grocery shopping so I wouldn't have to help carry in the food.
12. Not being more patient with my sisters.
13. Kissing about half of the boys I kissed.
14. Caring too much about popularity in high school.
15. Not being in a play since high school.
16. Not being nicer to people in school because I was waiting for someone to be nice to me.
17. Wearing those teeny, tiny curlers the night before my seventh grade school pictures. Yikes.
18. Having ALL those bridesmaids in all those hideous dresses because I didn't want to leave anybody out. Besides my sisters, I don't talk to a single one of those girls anymore. . .
19. Asking for that night off when I worked at Golden Golden Gate Restaurant. Maybe if I had been there I would have given the busboy a ride home and he would not have been found murdered in a nearby field the next day.
20. Telling Quin's 7th grade basketball coach that the tournament was a bad weekend for us and then hearing my son give the real reason, "I don't play on Sundays, coach."
21. Asking my 9th grade seminary teacher, in front of the whole class, what circumsion meant when we were studying the Old Testament.
What regrets do you have? If you had a do-over, what would you do differently?
*Regarding Catcher in the Rye, I happen to be very sensitive to language. Words play over and over in my head. I can't get them out. I understand that this book might be a great read for others, but not for me.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
The Things You Learn at Church
Last week when Lila was born, Luke my 10 year-old son said, "Mom told me how babies are made, but I don't quite remember."
Tess, his 14 year-old sister said, "I'm still trying to forget."
I've always believed in being straight forward with my children about the facts of life. If they ask a question, I give an answer. The answer should be the briefest, simplest explanation to their question. For example:
Child : "Mom, where do babies come from?"
Me: "From heaven."
(If they want to know more, they'll ask.)
Child: "But how do they get here?"
Me: "The baby grows in the mommy's tummy."
Child: "How does the baby get in there?"
Me: "An egg from the mommy is fertilized by the daddy and a baby grows."
You get the idea.
When my daughter Bri was three, she asked me, "What's that one thing that you and daddy do at night for a family?"
My mind began racing. How does she know we're doing something at night?
I play stupid, "I'm not sure what you mean?"
"You know," Bri answers rolling her eyes, "that thing you and Daddy do at night in the dark when I'm in bed for a family."
I keep asking questions because how can I tell my 3 year-old the "she-bam" and not have her end up in therapy?
Bri is getting frustrated. I'm getting desperate. I try change the subject. She will not be deterred. Finally Bri adds another crucial piece of information. "You know that thing with cookies."
Cookies? Cookies? Ah yes, cookies. I finally realize that she is talking about the family night phantom--that phenomenon in October that spreads throughout the neighborhood where one family makes another family a treat and leaves it anonymously on the doorstep with a challenge to do the same thing for another family and so on and so on.
So that is what Ric and I had been doing at night, in the dark, for a family. And since Bri was 3, she had already fallen asleep when we did it.
I got the ENTIRE speech one Sunday. We were at church and I was not paying attention. Feeling guilty, I turned to my mother and asked, "What are they talking about?" She could have said anything--tithing, prayer, scriptures, or even virtue and I would have been fine. But instead her face turned bright red and she said, "I'll tell you when we get home."
When we got home, I was pulled into her bedroom, the door was locked, and I was given the "talk." Every nitty-gritty detail. My jaw dropped, I turned to my mother and said, "They said all that in church?"
Tess, his 14 year-old sister said, "I'm still trying to forget."
I've always believed in being straight forward with my children about the facts of life. If they ask a question, I give an answer. The answer should be the briefest, simplest explanation to their question. For example:
Child : "Mom, where do babies come from?"
Me: "From heaven."
(If they want to know more, they'll ask.)
Child: "But how do they get here?"
Me: "The baby grows in the mommy's tummy."
Child: "How does the baby get in there?"
Me: "An egg from the mommy is fertilized by the daddy and a baby grows."
You get the idea.
When my daughter Bri was three, she asked me, "What's that one thing that you and daddy do at night for a family?"
My mind began racing. How does she know we're doing something at night?
I play stupid, "I'm not sure what you mean?"
"You know," Bri answers rolling her eyes, "that thing you and Daddy do at night in the dark when I'm in bed for a family."
I keep asking questions because how can I tell my 3 year-old the "she-bam" and not have her end up in therapy?
Bri is getting frustrated. I'm getting desperate. I try change the subject. She will not be deterred. Finally Bri adds another crucial piece of information. "You know that thing with cookies."
Cookies? Cookies? Ah yes, cookies. I finally realize that she is talking about the family night phantom--that phenomenon in October that spreads throughout the neighborhood where one family makes another family a treat and leaves it anonymously on the doorstep with a challenge to do the same thing for another family and so on and so on.
So that is what Ric and I had been doing at night, in the dark, for a family. And since Bri was 3, she had already fallen asleep when we did it.
I got the ENTIRE speech one Sunday. We were at church and I was not paying attention. Feeling guilty, I turned to my mother and asked, "What are they talking about?" She could have said anything--tithing, prayer, scriptures, or even virtue and I would have been fine. But instead her face turned bright red and she said, "I'll tell you when we get home."
When we got home, I was pulled into her bedroom, the door was locked, and I was given the "talk." Every nitty-gritty detail. My jaw dropped, I turned to my mother and said, "They said all that in church?"
Friday, August 19, 2011
I Feel as Old as Old Man Pants
While I was driving I scratched my right arm with my left hand and felt a small budge in the bicep region. But alas, when I scratched my left arm with my right hand, nothing. I want this muscle to have friends. If my rolls are getting friends, why can't my muscles have friends?
(Okay, nobody really answer that question because I KNOW the answer. But. . . butt. . .)
Somebody asked me yesterday if I was older than my husband. This is the same husband that I said to the other day while we were walking, "You cannot wear those sweat pants anymore. They are old man pants."
Ric looked at me cluelessly.
"Old fart pants," I said.
Ric replied, "Yesterday while I was walking, I heard honking and turned around and there were 3 old men in a car waving at me. They thought they knew me."
"That's what I'm talkin about," I said.
So, this is the man that I look older than. . . .
(Okay, nobody really answer that question because I KNOW the answer. But. . . butt. . .)
Somebody asked me yesterday if I was older than my husband. This is the same husband that I said to the other day while we were walking, "You cannot wear those sweat pants anymore. They are old man pants."
Ric looked at me cluelessly.
"Old fart pants," I said.
Ric replied, "Yesterday while I was walking, I heard honking and turned around and there were 3 old men in a car waving at me. They thought they knew me."
"That's what I'm talkin about," I said.
So, this is the man that I look older than. . . .
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
It has been a good week. This is a big reason why.
Lila Emmaline (not Jenaline) Campbell, 8.5 lbs., & 20” of pure miracle.
Miracle number one: after a couple days of labor, Lila came by emergency c-section with the cord wrapped twice around her neck and twice around her body. Miracle number two: out of all the times she could have been born, she chose to come during sacrament meeting.
This is miraculous because I was supposed to lead the music in sacrament meeting for my visiting teachee only we were singing “A Poor Wayfaring Man of Grief” which has seven verses and how can you only sing some of the verses? This song and “I heard the Bells on Christmas Day” are a waste of breath if you don’t sing them in their entirety. But how could I stand and wave my arm for that long without laughing or crying or scratching my nose? So thank you Lila.
Mom and baby are doing fine. I have noticed however that since having grandchild number three, I am more winded on my morning walks, that the real-estate on my lap is being purchased by my stomach, I have a penchant for wearing sensible shoes, and I need stronger reading glasses. I don’t think I’ll recover.
Here is my advice to mothers and grandmothers and anybody going through any type of life-change. “Things” will never get back to normal, so stop waiting for it to happen.
Just 25 years ago I had my first baby.
My life has never been the same.
Thank heavens.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Oh the People I Might Meet
I don't know what I've googled or what email I've opened that has caused me to get these types of emails. Daily. Several times a day.
Meet single people in your area
Eligible black bachelors
Jewish singles in your area
Cougar dating
Maybe it's nothing I've done, but something one of my friends or children has done. Haven't opened any. Not that I mind black, Jewish, or young single white males. It's just that I'm already happily dating my husband.
When I haven't been deleting dating emails this week, I actually did some writing, writing that doesn't include incomplete grocery lists and checks. I actually finished the rough, rought draft of a middle-grade fiction novel that I started 3 years ago. . . You see, my problem is that I think about writing, I plan on writing, I read about writing, and I read what other people write, but I actually have a hard time sitting down and writing. And when I do sit down and write, I rewrite what I've already written, over and over and over and over. . .
So yesterday I was finally a finisher of a book I started 3 years ago, a bag of Peanut M&Ms, and a bowl of popcorn. Just don't ask me what we've had for dinner any night this week.
What projects have you started/finished?
Meet single people in your area
Eligible black bachelors
Jewish singles in your area
Cougar dating
Maybe it's nothing I've done, but something one of my friends or children has done. Haven't opened any. Not that I mind black, Jewish, or young single white males. It's just that I'm already happily dating my husband.
When I haven't been deleting dating emails this week, I actually did some writing, writing that doesn't include incomplete grocery lists and checks. I actually finished the rough, rought draft of a middle-grade fiction novel that I started 3 years ago. . . You see, my problem is that I think about writing, I plan on writing, I read about writing, and I read what other people write, but I actually have a hard time sitting down and writing. And when I do sit down and write, I rewrite what I've already written, over and over and over and over. . .
So yesterday I was finally a finisher of a book I started 3 years ago, a bag of Peanut M&Ms, and a bowl of popcorn. Just don't ask me what we've had for dinner any night this week.
What projects have you started/finished?
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Magical Summers
Summers were magical when I was a child. We'd play outside from sun-up 'til sun-down and most nights later. We rode horses everywhere, and did trick-riding on the "Big Lawn" (a big lot in our neighborhood that someone had planted grass on and kept mowed). I have a scar, that is still on my chest today, from dragging behind a horse like the man in the Tide commercial.
When we weren't riding, we would walk to the Draper Drug Store or Frank's Food Town and buy penny candy or a soda. On weekends we'd walk to the Cameo Theatre and see a movie for 50 cents. The theatre (which is still standing) was old and bats would get inside and occassionally we'd have to duck so they didn't fly into us. They didn't scare me nearly as much as the old lady who ran the theater though.
Sometimes we'd walk across the street to Fitzgerald's Farm and watch baby calves be born or let the week-old calves suck all the salt off our hands. We went fishing in Brown's Pond and would swim in the canals.
At nights we would stay out late playing kick-the-can. Sometimes we'd play murder in the dark. We hid alone in the cornfield. The murderer would come up and have to touch you to kill you. The cornfield was so scary you wanted to buddy up with someone--but what if they were the murderer! We also hunted for frogs and toads and would catch garbage cans full of them.
The last two days, my son has asked, "What can I do?" And the sad thing is, once I give all the pat answers--read a book, play a board game, watch t.v. (ughh, I don't say that one often), I really have no idea.
What did you do in the summertime? What do your kids do in the summertime when they are not at Scout Camp, Girl's Camp, EFY, etc.?
When we weren't riding, we would walk to the Draper Drug Store or Frank's Food Town and buy penny candy or a soda. On weekends we'd walk to the Cameo Theatre and see a movie for 50 cents. The theatre (which is still standing) was old and bats would get inside and occassionally we'd have to duck so they didn't fly into us. They didn't scare me nearly as much as the old lady who ran the theater though.
Sometimes we'd walk across the street to Fitzgerald's Farm and watch baby calves be born or let the week-old calves suck all the salt off our hands. We went fishing in Brown's Pond and would swim in the canals.
At nights we would stay out late playing kick-the-can. Sometimes we'd play murder in the dark. We hid alone in the cornfield. The murderer would come up and have to touch you to kill you. The cornfield was so scary you wanted to buddy up with someone--but what if they were the murderer! We also hunted for frogs and toads and would catch garbage cans full of them.
The last two days, my son has asked, "What can I do?" And the sad thing is, once I give all the pat answers--read a book, play a board game, watch t.v. (ughh, I don't say that one often), I really have no idea.
What did you do in the summertime? What do your kids do in the summertime when they are not at Scout Camp, Girl's Camp, EFY, etc.?
Saturday, August 6, 2011
More He Said, She Said. . .
More he said she said Robyn-style.
Me coming home from a meeting:
Ric: You look so good in black.
Me: (smile)
Ric: I love the way you look in black.
Me: (more smiling)
Ric: It would almost be worth dying to see you come to my funeral dressed in black.
Me: (not smiling)
Ric: Maybe not.
Luke begging Ric and me for a sleepover:
Luke: Please can I have a sleepover?
Me: Not tonight, it’s family night.
Luke: We had family night yesterday.
Me: That wasn’t family night that was scripture study.
Luke: But we were all together and we said a prayer and we played a game yesterday.
Me: Great. We can spend time together two nights in a row.
Luke: Can I have a sleepover after family night.
Me: No
Luke: Dad, can I have a sleepover tonight.
Ric: I don’t get sleepovers. Luke, you’d be fine if you never had another sleepover again.
Luke: Yeah right dad. Then I’d have no social skills and I could never get married.
Luke talking to his friends at our kitchen counter:
Friend 1: Sometimes my Grandma doesn’t like it when we play at her house.
Friend 2: Yeah, sometimes grandmas are like that. I have to take off my shoes at my grandma’s house.
Friend 1: Me too.
Friend 2: Sometimes my grandma can be grouchy.
Luke: My grandmas are dead.
(long, awkward pause)
Riding in the car on our family trip with the 3 youngest
Ric: Morganne, thanks for coming, it really means a lot to us. I know you had to get two days off work just to hang out with us and your little brother and sister.
Morganne: No problem Dad. The drive alone has probably been the highlight of my life.
A couple of days later, still on the family vacation, riding in the car, the kids ask me to tell them each about their births. After we talk about Luke’s “natural” birth, which Morganne witnessed even though she was only 6, Morganne asks the following in all seriousness:
Morganne: So, did you eat the placenta?
Me: No! I did not eat the placenta.
Morganne: Did you bring it home?
Me: No! I did not bring it home. Morganne, why would you even think such a thing?
Morganne: I don’t know. I just heard that the placenta has lots of nutrients in it that you need after you go through childbirth.
Me coming home from a meeting:
Ric: You look so good in black.
Me: (smile)
Ric: I love the way you look in black.
Me: (more smiling)
Ric: It would almost be worth dying to see you come to my funeral dressed in black.
Me: (not smiling)
Ric: Maybe not.
Luke begging Ric and me for a sleepover:
Luke: Please can I have a sleepover?
Me: Not tonight, it’s family night.
Luke: We had family night yesterday.
Me: That wasn’t family night that was scripture study.
Luke: But we were all together and we said a prayer and we played a game yesterday.
Me: Great. We can spend time together two nights in a row.
Luke: Can I have a sleepover after family night.
Me: No
Luke: Dad, can I have a sleepover tonight.
Ric: I don’t get sleepovers. Luke, you’d be fine if you never had another sleepover again.
Luke: Yeah right dad. Then I’d have no social skills and I could never get married.
Luke talking to his friends at our kitchen counter:
Friend 1: Sometimes my Grandma doesn’t like it when we play at her house.
Friend 2: Yeah, sometimes grandmas are like that. I have to take off my shoes at my grandma’s house.
Friend 1: Me too.
Friend 2: Sometimes my grandma can be grouchy.
Luke: My grandmas are dead.
(long, awkward pause)
Riding in the car on our family trip with the 3 youngest
Ric: Morganne, thanks for coming, it really means a lot to us. I know you had to get two days off work just to hang out with us and your little brother and sister.
Morganne: No problem Dad. The drive alone has probably been the highlight of my life.
A couple of days later, still on the family vacation, riding in the car, the kids ask me to tell them each about their births. After we talk about Luke’s “natural” birth, which Morganne witnessed even though she was only 6, Morganne asks the following in all seriousness:
Morganne: So, did you eat the placenta?
Me: No! I did not eat the placenta.
Morganne: Did you bring it home?
Me: No! I did not bring it home. Morganne, why would you even think such a thing?
Morganne: I don’t know. I just heard that the placenta has lots of nutrients in it that you need after you go through childbirth.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
I Want to Want to. . .
I want to want to blog today, but I just don't. Usually my mind is mulling over people and happenings and such. Today my mind is quiet. I've always thought of my husband's mind as a very well organized drawer. He always knows where his scissors are, he never runs out of led in his mechanical pencil, and he never loses the end of his tape. My mind on the other hand is like opening the dryer door when one of my kids has done the laundry (not my husband). There are all different colors and fabrics and mismatched socks rolling around. There's probably some loose marbles, a Chapstick and a crayon in there too.
I think the problem is that I cleaned out my bathroom drawers today just like my husband would have. I didn't look at every item, analyze it, and categorize it, and fret over what to do with it which is typically what I do. I opened the drawer, pulled out big essentials like toothpaste and brushes, and dumped the remaining contents into the garbage. Hurray for me, only now my mind is still.
Other things I want to want to do:
I want to want to run. I used to run. But now when I run parachute butt happens. If parachute butt has never happened to you, you still have some muscle tone. If it has happened to you, you know exactly what I mean. Also, my feet start to hurt and my legs get tired and then I can't breath and not running is so much funner.
I want to want to control what I eat. I feel sooo much better when I put the good stuff in and keep the bad stuff out. I don't need will-power because I will eat anything. I need won't-power.
I want to want an immaculate house and sometimes I actually do want one, but most of the time I only want one when somebody comes to my door unexpectedly. I just can't imagine that I'll be on my deathbed and say, "I wish I would have spent more time cleaning." But who knows?
I want to want to wear cute jewelry, I really do. I think jewelry looks great on everyone but me. Most people wear jewelry, but jewelry wears me.
I want to want to write another book. I've written two middle-grade fiction books (both unpublished), but what if I can't do it again? What if my nest book turns out stupid and I fail? I know my other books aren't published but they're not bad for what they are, a first attempt in my younger years. Right now I can't even write a complete grocery list. But I can write checks:)
What do you want to want to do?
I think the problem is that I cleaned out my bathroom drawers today just like my husband would have. I didn't look at every item, analyze it, and categorize it, and fret over what to do with it which is typically what I do. I opened the drawer, pulled out big essentials like toothpaste and brushes, and dumped the remaining contents into the garbage. Hurray for me, only now my mind is still.
Other things I want to want to do:
I want to want to run. I used to run. But now when I run parachute butt happens. If parachute butt has never happened to you, you still have some muscle tone. If it has happened to you, you know exactly what I mean. Also, my feet start to hurt and my legs get tired and then I can't breath and not running is so much funner.
 |
| You see what I mean?? Parachute butt can be a natural phenomenon where your butt actually takes the place of the parachute. |
I want to want to control what I eat. I feel sooo much better when I put the good stuff in and keep the bad stuff out. I don't need will-power because I will eat anything. I need won't-power.
I want to want an immaculate house and sometimes I actually do want one, but most of the time I only want one when somebody comes to my door unexpectedly. I just can't imagine that I'll be on my deathbed and say, "I wish I would have spent more time cleaning." But who knows?
I want to want to wear cute jewelry, I really do. I think jewelry looks great on everyone but me. Most people wear jewelry, but jewelry wears me.
I want to want to write another book. I've written two middle-grade fiction books (both unpublished), but what if I can't do it again? What if my nest book turns out stupid and I fail? I know my other books aren't published but they're not bad for what they are, a first attempt in my younger years. Right now I can't even write a complete grocery list. But I can write checks:)
What do you want to want to do?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)