Prince Caspian Rocks!!!

Last night hubby took me to Washington DC to watch PRINCE CASPIAN.

In case you are interested in our review, you can read it on his youth
group website.

www.gabcrush.com

Enjoy! Then go see the movie.

Help, Magic Wobbler, help!

It's that time.

The time when TBL category coordinators tabulate the scoresheets.

Would you believe one judging packet is GONE?

Well, not gone. But not here.

At this very moment, as I type, I'm on hold with my local postal office. The postal gal is looking up the tracking number.

Apparently the Express Mail envelope was delivered with a signature waiver. I'm not waiting on the postal gal who is checking with the postal carrier.

Life coordinating a contest category...not to mention two...is nutso.

Maybe tomorrow I'll ramble about THE BACHELOR finale. Boy, do I have a lot to say.

Oh, hubby and I are going to see an advanced screening of PRINCE CASPIAN tonight. Guess I'll have a lot to say tomorrow.

Magic Wobbler

I’m terrible with decisions.

A typical scenario is my husband Jeremy asks me what I want for dinner. *Gasp* Umm…well…let’s see, we could have…umm, I don’t know. I hate making a decision. I’m confident I inherited this inability from my oldest son.

“Mom, I’m bored.”

“Go play.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, use your imagination.”

“Yeah. What do you think I should do?”

Decisions, decisions, decisions. Why can’t I have a Wanda and a Cosmo to help with my decision making process. I wish for dinner. I wish my children to find something to do so they won’t stand over my shoulder and dampen my muse. I wish, I wish, I wish.

Cool thing is I don’t need some fairly oddparents. I have Wal-Mart. And on the back of the box of Rice Krispies that I bought from there, I found the solution to my problem.

“Need some advice? Want to know what could be in store for your future? Ask the MAGIC WOBBLER for a little help…it’s a lot of fun!”

How could I pass up such an exciting offer?

Here’s how it works:

1. Cut out this panel—use safety scissors and ask an adult to help you. (Since my husband wasn’t home, I just tore the box apart. I hope that doesn’t jinx me.)

2. Place the panel on a flat surface. (Whoops, gotta move the panel off my RWA calendar.)

3. Sit your MAGIC WOBBLER on the castle in the center of the wheel. (Oh, Mickey looks so cute. Why do I feel like singing?)

4. Close your eyes and give your WOBBLER a spin as you ask your question. (“Will my kids make their beds tomorrow?” NO CHANCE. This thing really works!)

5. Your answer will…the section of…your WOBBLER. (When I ripped the box apart, I shredded this last instruction. Guess I should have found some safety scissors and waited until hubby got home. But I’m sure this wasn’t important information, and I was sooooo excited to learn the answers to my life's questions.)

Since the MAGIC WOBBLER worked the first time, lemme try again.

“Will I finish ironing hubby's shirts tomorrow?” YOUR WISH WILL COME TRUE.

Yes! Never again will I have to fret about a decision. I’ll just ask MAGIC WOBBLER. And finding MAGIC WOBBLER came at the perfect time in my life.

“Magic Wobbler, should I go work on my Civil War story or something else?” Okay, this is freaky because I spun the MW three times and it never moved off the center castle. Maybe my question was too confusing.

“Should I wait to see what my agent says?” YOUR WISH WILL COME TRUE. So now all I need to do is figure out what my wish is.

“How will I know what my wish is?” NO CHANCE. Great. Now what do I do?

“Do you think I should finish this blog post instead of cleaning the dirty dishes from the youth group party last night?” YESSIREE! I better keep writing then.

“Do I have a publishable future?” KEEP A BRIGHT OUTLOOK.

Keep a bright outlook? Now wait one darn second. I could spend the rest of my life with some cheesy Mary Lou Retton-grin on my face, but how’s that gonna help me get published? Shouldn’t I do something to increase my odds instead of putting all my eggs on hope?

NO CHANCE.

Drat. I’m starting not to like the MAGIC WOBBLER. What if it doesn’t really know my future? How accurate can something made in China be?

NOT AT THIS TIME.

*Snork*

“Do you really know the answer to life, the universe, and everything?” YOUR WISH WILL COME TRUE. Gotta spin again. NO CHANCE. One more time. KEEP A BRIGHT OUTLOOK.

Maybe I should just grow-up, educate myself on the business-side of publication, and seek wise counsel.

Fantabulous idea!

First, I’ll put that in the form of a question and ask MW.

DREAM ON.

((All MW answers are results of accurate spins, not fixed for the purpose of this blog post. Coming soon: “Dealing with rejection!” or on “Anything is possible!” dependin, —of course, on what MW recommends. May the force be with you!)

on being dopey and drugged

Bear with me if I ramble. Yesterday I had a root canal. My first. Preferably my last.

Oh, it's not that the root canal itself was unpleasant.

No, I had a nice time. Got a short nap in.

Once the novacaine and laughing gas wears off...O. U. C. H. Fortunately, my dentist gave me a painkiller prescription. Sweet. But being all doped up makes me dizzy and droggy. Everything is kinda a blur.

On Thursday night, hubby watched an episode of THE OFFICE. He started catching episodes a monthish ago to fill the time between SMALLVILLE and LOST. Which is kinda odd now that I think about it because I have no idea of how much attention he pays to SMALLVILLE or LOST.

Sometimes I watch THE OFFICE, sometimes not because I try to use that hour to get some writing done. Lately work on Touched by Love contest stuff. Anyhoo, on Thursday he wondered who watched the show, who "got" the show.

Long discussion short, I told him what made the show different was that it didn't rely on sexual humor to drive the laughter. It's a thinking man's comedy. Not with the wryness of British comedy but closer than most network sitcoms.

Next came on 30 ROCK. After about 10 minutes, hubby changed the channel to DON'T FORGET THE LYRICS. Yes, I said he quit watching an Emmy-nominated show to watch kareoke (sp?). Why? Well, right after I made my comment about THE OFFICE, the next scene on 30 ROCK was Tracy (a guy) telling Liz (the producer) of his woes with his porno video game. Yeah.

One of the next scenes prior had Jack (network guy) in Washington starting his political life. Witty scene even though it belittled the current presidential administration and economic "crisis." I actually wished that scene had gone on longer. Why? The next scene was vulgar. Tracy had his actors doing the voice-over work for his porno video game.

No person watching that scene had to use any congnitive ability to process the humor.

What if network producers told sitcom producers that they couldn't have any sexual humor for their show's/shows' entire season(s). How funny would those shows be?

I doubt Emmy-nominated-worthy funny.

Besides THE OFFICE, is there a sitcom on tv that doesn't rely on sexual humor and sexual situations as the basis for the show's comedic status?

Help, my liver ran away!

My kids think I can’t cook.

Well, maybe not that I can’t cook, but more like that I can’t cook good. I’m really not sure why they think that. I’m a great cook. Someday they need to start tipping the chef/waitress/hostess of the Welborn Café. And they need to stop groaning when I say we’re having dinner at the Welborn Café.

Uggh, children. Gotta love ’em…I guess.

Every night for dinner and for lunch on Sunday, I always put a tablecloth on the table, give all six of us matching Longaberger luncheon plates, set Oneida Kenwood silverware in the correct spot, and fill our Mikasa goblets (okay, the kids normally get Tupperware cups) with a chilled--and often--iced beverage.

I’m soooooo channeling Martha Stewart.

The only thing I don’t have on the table is candlesticks because…well, boys and fire are combustible.

Does it matter that macaroni and cheese makes a wonderful side dish with practically anything? Why can’t they see how I take care not to have all orange foods or all white foods? Will they ever notice that I strive to ensure the meal food colors, shapes, and textures vary (except on the days when we have cereal for dinner)?

In my 14 years of being a mom, I’ve discovered that you don’t have to follow a recipe exactly. And if you don’t have baking powder, you can substitute baking soda mixed with cream of tartar. Or is that the other way around?

I made a coffeecake once using a yellow cake mix (mixed according to box instructions), butter, and crushed Oreo cookies. And it tasted darn good. Of course, no one wanted to eat it until my hubby guinea-pigged through the first piece.

Okay, I’ll admit I’m not a great cook. I’m no Martha Stewart. But I do watch Iron Chef of American. Yes, it’s to see Bobby Oh-Please-Flay-Me, but as I’m watching, I’m absorbing great cooking skills because I recognize that I’m a visual learner.

When we were first married, my hubby decided to make some chocolate chip cookies all on his own. I heard him banging around in the kitchen for days upon days.

Finally, he yelled, “Honey, if your cookies are kinda runny, what do would you do?”

I said, “Add more flour.”

Minutes later he said, “More flour isn’t working.”

“How much extra did you add?”

“Two cups.”

With my Julia Child-shocked-expression, I headed to the kitchen. I picked up a container. “You added this to the dough?”

“Yes,” he said, glaring at me as if I were not Julia Child.

Controlling my laughter, I said, “This is powdered sugar, not flour. Couldn’t you smell the difference, see the difference, taste the difference?”

Let’s just say he wasn’t too pleased with my comment. Uggh, husbands. Gotta love ’em…I guess.

I’m good at some things, but not all things. And in my crit group, each of us are good at some things, but not all things. As one of my CP so eloquently said this week, “We each bring something different to the table.”

Another way of saying that is “We each have a part, a job, a skill, a strength that benefits someone else.”

The human body has many parts, but the many parts make up only one body.

What your foot said, “I’m tired of only being a foot. I want to be a hand so I can touch things or an eye so I can see Bobby Flay cook”?

Or liver: “I’m sick of processing toxins. Lemme be the tongue so I can taste the food before it turns nasty.”

Or ear: “Two’s a crowd. I’m leaving so I can be the only ear.”

Or butt: “I’m tired of people’s crap. I want to be a mouth so I can enjoy Bobby Flay’s barbeque.”

I believe God placed each part of our bodies in the prime spot for them to do the exact things for which they were created to do. And even the parts of the body that seem weakest aren’t purposeless. Imagine not having a thumb. Or no hair in your nose. That hair has a purpose. Not a purpose I really want to think about at the moment, but a purpose nonetheless.

Fortunately, in a human body, each part does its job. A heart can only pump blood and not chew Twizzlers. And if it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do, you need a new heart or you’re dead.

In a family, a crit group, or even a writing organization, sometimes the wrong part is doing the wrong job, which causes stress and discouragement because the part isn’t doing what it was created to do. Square peg in a round hole. And sometimes a part is letting another part do its job.

Is it time you stepped back and let someone else have the spotlight? Or is it time you stepped up and took a more active role?

Now who has detective skills? My liver ran away to Vegas.

Pet of the Day

My neighbor has a goat.

Well, not my neighbor neighbor. Not anyone who lives in my actual neighborhood.

No, I'm talking the guy who lives in one of the older homes outside my neighborhood and just a bit up the road. I'm guessing they're on acre lots.

Yet instead of walking his goat around his acre lot, he walks the goat up and down the winding road that divides the six or seven neighborhoods between Nuckles Road and whatever that street next to Car Max is called. Hey, I have five kids. I can't be expected to pay attention to street signs.

So he's walking his goat, and I say to my son as we pass, "He's walking his pet goat." (BTW, we were in the car. I was driving.)

My son Matthew14 says, "Pet goat?"

"Yeah. Like pet dog, pet cat, pet pig."

"Pet pig?"

"Son, where have you been all your life? Yes, people have pet pigs."

"Then why doesn't that guy have a pet pig instead of a pet goat? No normal person has a goat for a pet."

"But having a pig means you're normal?"

"Mom, shouldn't you watch where you're driving?"

At this point, I had to focus on the road. No more time to think of goats and pigs. We had to get to the library to pick up a couple books on hold, then go to Wal-mart to get medicine and pet food (we got chocolate too), and finally stop at Four Eyes to have a screw put back in said son's glasses. And we had only an hour before "American Idol" came on.

Okay, I can understand owning a goat. But taking it for a walk?

That's just too weird for me.

But then again, I'm sure if I had a goat and it needed a walk....

So after our errand trip and some good and bad singing on "American Idol" (poor Jason, he's going home tonight), I figured I ought to check my e-mail because it'd been a few hours and some really imporatant e-mail might have arrived.

In my mailbox was another thank you note from one of my Genesis entries. I'm three for five on getting TYs back. Either the other two entrants didn't care for my comments or they're slow at letting their judges know they're appreciated or they hated the comments or they're just not polite enough to say thanks.

Anyhooo....

Wanna know what the entrant said? Of course you do.

Dear Judge RSJ12,
Thank you for taking the time to judge my contest entry. I was truly amazed at all the in-depth feedback. Wow! :-) You really made me think, and I'm STILL thinking about the best way to work some of your ideas in. I really can't thank you enough for the wisdom you shared. I really appreciate all the effort you put into it. I know it will make my story much stronger. God bless.
ENTRANT NAME HERE
P.S. I wasn't trying to be sneaky with the lack of a synopsis. LOL. It's called last-minute entry by an SOTP author. :-) I do have a better idea what's going to happen now, so if you can't sleep at night wondering how it ends... :-)
ENTRANT WEBSITE HERE

I'm thinking about contacting her, except that I'm a coward at heart. Then again, I'd love to see how she incorporated my suggestions.

I freely admit I like TYs from contest entrants. Over the years, the number I receive have increased, which is likely becuase I've become a better, more tactful, more encouraging judge.

Oddly, I suck at sending Christmas and other time gift thanks.

Hmm.

Guess that makes me a hypocrite.

Great.

Goats, pigs, and hypocrites....I'd better shut up and let you go.