Tears of…

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So where exactly is the dividing line between joy and sorrow?

Odd question?

Maybe not as odd as you might think. Because even though joy and sorrow are considered opposites, they often exist in our hearts side by side.

Take, for example, today. I am helping one of my children move out of the house, and into the dorm.

My heart is heavy with sorrow because I fear that I might lose her. I know that once she moves out of the house our relationship will never be quite the same again, not to mention that I won’t be there to protect her.

From now own, every solution she discovers for herself, every bill she pays without my help, every experience she has without my presence moves her more firmly into adulthood. And everyone knows that although most adults love their mothers, they don’t really need them. (Being somewhat self-sufficient and responsible for yourself pretty much defines adulthood.)

Besides, I won’t get to joke with her about her day, tease her about her hair, give her a hug right before bed.

But here is where my question comes from. Residing right beside the sorrow is that other strong emotion, joy. I can barely contain how elated I feel that she has grown to be such a wonderful, mature young woman. I rejoice in the thought that she is about to begin the journey into adulthood, where she really gets to spread her wings and find out exactly what type of person she is (which is, of course, wonderful, talented, fantastic, etc….).

So when I cannot contain my tears any longer and I break down and cry–which I know I will–where will those tears come from? Where’s the line? Will they be tears of sorrow, or tears of joy?

The writing continues

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The book I’m currently working on is not written for the same audience as my first three books. While the Behold the Eye trilogy books were written for the middle grade/young adult group, this new book is more for adults.

Why the change?

Well, probably because I enjoy trying new things, finding new ways to do the same thing, and pushing myself to grow as a writer. My goal is “test the waters” in different genres by writing different types of books. I currently have the beginnings of a mystery, a series of ghost stories, and a science fiction.

Of course, the only one nearing book quality and length is the science fiction. I enjoy writing it, and it is coming along rather well. It is now 120 pages long and….

Uh oh, did you hear that?

When will I ever learn to keep my mouth shut! Now the Jupiterians know about the next book, and they’ll never let me get any peace.

Sigh. Here I go again!

I Remember 9/11/01, and more

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I remember…

Being awakened in the early hours of the morning by my husband. My 15 year old daughter had woken him up because of what she had heard on the radio.

I remember…

Looking at television, horrified that a pilot had made such a terrible mistake and crashed into one of the World Trade Center buildings. My heart ached as I thought of the families of the unfortunate who were either in the plane or in the section of the building that had been hit.

I remember…

Watching the second plane crash into the World Trade Center. My first thought was that the whole scene was surreal. It had to be some kind of publicity stunt for a new movie. One plane hitting was a trajedy, two was impossible.

I remember…

The sudden realization that this was no accident, this was no stunt, this was real, and this was an attack. Innocent people going about their daily lives had been attacked and killed. In America.

I remember…

The feeling of fear. Would more attacks follow? How would I be able to keep my family safe? How could life continue?

I remember…

Hearing of the attack on the Pentagon, and of a plane going down in a field. I’ll never forget the look on my husband’s face as we talked about what might come, especially after the plot against our country was discovered and then publicized. Suddenly the world had became a much more dangerous place.

I remember…

Realizing that this was not a series of events that would mark a single day, this was a series of events that would change every day. It was a lonely time. It was a stressful time. It was a time I never want to relive. Many things happened then, and in the days that followed, that I would rather forget.

But I’ll remember…

That I am fortunate. I can empathize with the families of those who died on September 11th, but I cannot truly feel their pain. My loved ones were safe on that eventful day.

And I pledge to remember…

That it was not buildings that were attacked, it was my country. And though it took a little longer than I would have liked, America took action. I’ll continue to be proud of my country. And I’ll continue to be in awe of the selflessness of people like my husband and other members of the military who regularly sacrifice to protect my country.

I sincerely hope Americans always remember what it really means to the an American.

Revisions, revisions, revisions!

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How is it that no matter how hard I try to perfect the manuscript, when I get the proof I always find something I need to change?

Is there a gremlin in my computer that makes changes just as I finalize my final draft?

Or maybe I was hypnotized sometime in my past, and I am the one sneaking in little mistakes that need to be corrected.

Oh, wait, now I have it figured out. It is those pesky Jupiterian aliens! They must be really slow readers, and they want to have the book in hand well ahead of anyone else in their bookclub!

Lost in the mail

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Can you believe it! My proof was lost in the mail!

I wonder if it was delivered to the wrong address, and the recipient has not even looked at the package yet. After all, I’m sure there are many people who only open their mail once a month or so.
-or-
It may have fallen off a conveyor belt in the post office, and it is gathering dust behind all the noisy machines. But since my book is a friendly book, so I’m sure it will be making friends with all the other lost packages that have fallen behind the machinery throughout the years.
-or-
Aliens from Jupiter had read the first book, and just couldn’t wait to read the next one!

Naughty aliens!

Impatience

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I should have known! Today is Sunday, and the proof copy of Cerulea isn’t here yet.

Doesn’t it seem that the more something is anticipated, the longer it takes to arrive? Like…like…Christmas, or a loved one who has been away, or maybe a vacation. You wait, and wait, and wait and it seems that you have to keep waiting FOREVER.

Things that are dreaded, well, there is no slowing down how fast they come! A test, morning after a long night, and Monday appear magically. Blink your eyes, and there it is!

Five days

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Five days! That is all I have to wait until I have the Cerulea in my hands!

The proof has been printed and is on the way. The feelings I am experiencing are just like those I had with the “birth” of Braumaru. Anxiety, excitement, fear, joy, etc.

Yes, yes, yes. I know that publishing a book is not the same as giving birth to a baby. I do have 4 children after all! I have experienced the joys and pains of childbirth.

But still, there are some similarities….

Schnoodle

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After years of listening to begging, pleading, and cajoling, my husband and I have caved.

We now have a Schnoodle. Not that it was particularly a Schnoodle that our kids were asking for, a Schnoodle is just the particular breed we chose.

What is a Schnoodle, you may ask? It is the cutest puppy in the world. Part Schnauzer, and part Poodle. She is 9 weeks old, soft, friendly, and cute.

We have had her 3 1/2 hours, and we have already taken her outside 3 times. So far, so good!

I hope we’re not in over our heads!

Plastic monster, myth or reality

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Plastic. Everywhere I look there is plastic. Plastic bottles, plastic table cloths, plastic plates, plastic chairs, plastic spoons, plastic forks, plastic tables, plastic shoes, and on and on and on.

I wonder if the inventor of plastic ever imagined what a monster he/she was creating.

Plastic seems harmless enough. It’s easy to clean, resists breaking, is light-weight, and can be make into any shape desired. And oh, it can last virtually forever.

Which is the biggest problem of plastic. It seems that creating things out of material that lasts forever may not be such a good idea after all.

But when it comes to environmental lore, how do we separate fact from fiction? Which stories are true, and which have been constructed to push an agenda forward.

Take for example the following story about the world’s dependence on plastic:

Somewhere out there, in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, there is a place where the water swirling clockwise meets water swirling counterclockwise, and a vortex is formed. This vortex has acted as a natural vacuum cleaner for the ocean, pulling in bits and pieces of plastic to this one location. The accumulation is said to cover an area the size of Texas.

My first thought is:

Texas! Couldn’t it at least be a smaller state, like Rhode Island, or maybe Connecticut? And who, pray tell, is going to take on the gargantuan task of emptying the trash out of the vacuum? I can just hear the echoes across the world of “It’s not my mess”.

But then I begin to analyze. Who says this plastic Texas exists? Do they have an agenda they are trying to push? Has any reasonably unbiased group studied this?

So now I am reserving judgement. The report comes from a group that is not known for being unbiased.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that the story is untrue, it just means that I cannot yet accept it as fact.