How to Love Your Neighbor FAIL

Welcome to the neighborhood. Here are cookies. I have a blog. Whoa, is that a hot tub you are putting in?

Two days later:

Have I not made it clear in the blog that this is the only kind of music I can't listen to? Whadda ya mean, you don't read my blog? You know what happens to people who don't read the blog, don't you? They get written about in the blog. Turn that racket DOWN!

And also, take that rebel flag off the back of your Harley. It pisses me off. Did you WATCH Biker Boyz? What do you mean, I’m the only one who watched Biker Boyz? Uh, hello? Kid Rock and Lisa Bonet IN THE SAME MOVIE?

"Who is Lisa Bonet?" What do you do with your free time?

You're getting me off the subject. For real. Take that flag off. Turn it down. Go watch Biker Boyz. Why do you look like a serial killer?

Three Weeks Later:

Why are you throwing toys back in my yard? Do you see how many kids live in this neighborhood? How do you know they're our toys? Ok, well, they MIGHT be our toys, but our yard is full. There is a reason we moved them over to your yard.

Look. I'm sorry. I apologize.

This is not why I came over. I came over to remind you that I brought cookies once. Look! Today it's brownies.

Two hours later:

Seriously, sorry about that. Also, can I borrow your hot tub? I want to borrow it for a while. Like an hour. Maybe two. While I'm over here, enjoying this hot tub, could you please turn IT DOWN!

"Here's Your Letter"

At this lame website, I found this idea to write a letter to yourself, one year in the future.

(I can't even tell you what that site is, because I just said it was lame. I really don't want to hurt this poor person's feelings. Of course, if you are the person who told the Internets to write a letter to their future selves, I'm sure it is not your lame website. Yours is very cool.)

The REAL new year for me has always been back-to-school-August. January, schmanuary. This seems like a good time to plan ahead. So here goes.

August 2010

Dear me,

Look. It was a hard year. Give yourself a break. You are not God. He loves you. He judges you or forgives you or loves you. You don't have to worry about punishing yourself all the time. That job has been delegated.

Let it go. There is no, "someday." I know you thought there was. There's not. "Someday," does not exist. You have to let it go. Part of growing up is knowing which dreams to let go of. Also, quit ending sentences with prepositions.

You did stuff. You ran a marathon! You finished a book! You rafted down the crazyscary Gauley! Did you ever think you would actually do those things? No!! You thought these would be distant daydreams. Way to go. Also, you are very cute. Don't be such a hater.

Chillax. So, teaching is tough. Writing is tough. Running is tough. Managing this crazy house is tough. Raising tiny human beings is tough. You're doing all right. Let the little things go.

Dishes do not count as, "little things." You can not let these go.

Ask and ye shall recieve. Ask God for help more... more help, more often. He said He would. Quit trying to prove something.

Love. Be nice to your husband. Rembember that day in August of 2009 that he cleaned the whole house? Bathrooms? Floors? He should still be getting bonus points for that.

Stop smiling. You know how you always worried about people not really knowing you? It's because you haven't been very honest. Quit with the nice. It's fake. You don't like it. They don't like it. Or maybe they do like it, but they'll have to get over it. Sooner or later, they are going to figure it out anyway.

I mean it. You have to go to New York. You have to go to graduate school. You're breaking my heart by not doing these things. I know you think you can't afford them, but it's time to beg, borrow, and/or steal. No more excuses.

Lord I believe, please help my unbelief. Jesus is the only thing that matters. Quit wasting your time on the rest.

Go. Live. Do.

Good enough, smart enough, yadda yadda.

b.

What do you want to hear from yourself next year?

"In Maryland There's Nothing To Do..."

In a weird, "spouse of a friend of a friend," kind of way (Yes, this started with Facebook. Why do you ask?), I got to see these beautiful pictures of a town where I used to live.

Recently, I realized that a big part of my (whiny, spoiled) discontentment was that when I got out... I mean moved away, from my hometown, I moved to a place that looked not-at-all-unlike-Mayberry.

But, I was happy to see this place again. It was where my son was born, and it holds a lot of memories. Many of these memories involve cows, but that is a story for another day.

Moving on...

Denial about kindergarten didn't work so well. He still goes. Oh my word, the kid loves it! He asked his teacher if he could go an extra day this week, and she said yes, so he ... has chosen her over me? After two days? That can't be right...

Also, in news only the parents could care about, I had a first potty experience and a first book reading experience, all just this very second. How Mommy Bloggy is that?

Running... is slow and awful. It's raining. I'm tired. I am making my life harder by avoiding it, but I'm spending next week shopping for marathon gear, and that, that will make all the difference.

Writing... every day! I am in it to win it, people. (I've had just about enough of this self-imposed, junior high drama. YA might be the death of me yet.) Mostly, I'm writing everyday so I can verysoonstop listening to the fourteen-year-old inside my head.

One last thing: thank you, Marcie, for this link about, "Where Does God Want Me?". Loved it.

Where does God want you to be?

Perfect

We (the better half and I) have been having BIG talks about Mayberry. And by "big talks," I mean one of us has been big talking, and the other one has been forced to big listen. Not that I'm complaining at him, you understand. Just talking.

He loves it here. Loves.

(I overuse the word love, but... I'm fine with that. If you are aware of a flaw, it's acceptable to keep it up, right? Right.)

I talked to him about Jami, who calls this "Perfection, Tennessee." She really, really loves (I know. I'll stop.) it here, too. The mountains, the small-town friendliness, the fact that it's HOME... she appreciates everything about it.

Then there was Keri, who recently blogged about focusing on the ONE THING we can't have. (Hello? Eve, anyone?) We (and by "we," of course, I mean "I,") are (am?) like a child, crying over the very special toy the sibling grabbed, just at the exact second we decided we needed it first.

So. Contentment.

I'm working on it. It comes in waves. The tricky thing is choosing to choose it again when the contentment ebbs away. Choosing contentment, not unlike choosing love, is not easy. Not not not easy.

And yet. Why would I choose to stay discontent? All discontentment does is hurt my heart a little more.

Without further ado, here are the things I love (couldn't resist) about my town:

The Christmas Parade - Everyone dresses up. It is just horses and buggies: there are no motorized vehicles. It's all very Norman Rockwell. I try to be cynical about it, but I fail every year.

The mountains. The river. The lake. For a hiker, kayaker, and runner, this is a very beautiful place to be.

This is a great place to raise children.

It's home... in the truest sense of the word.

Free babysitting. No. That's not what I meant! I meant family. I love my family.

It's a college town. There are many good things that come with a college town. Smart neighbors. Literary librarians. Lots of people to argue with at dinner parties. I've lost count of all my writer friends who live here.

I get four seasons. Change is good. (It is almost FALL! Yes, I'm un-boxing the sweaters, thank you for asking.)

Affordable housing.

What do you love about your town?

To Be Known and Loved

Part of being fourteen is my new-found identity crisis. Crises. I keep saying, “Why hasn't anybody figured out who I am?”

I know I’m not alone in this. My dear friend, H., said the same thing the other day. “Why doesn’t anybody know me?”

This could be a time to GROW UP and admit that nobody is ever going to know me. People have all sorts of self-interest and fogged windows; we all read each other through our own issues. Maybe it’s time to finally get over this.

But really? I think it is a deep desire of a woman’s heart that she is KNOWN and LOVED ANYWAY.

Lord, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
You understand my thoughts from afar.
You scrutinize my path and my laying down and are acquainted with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue, O Lord, you know it completely.
Psalm 139:1-4

Also, the big kid started kindergarten today, and I’m in deep denial. No sad-“Oh, how did he grow up so fast?”-post, or bad-parent-mommy-blogging-“Yay, he’s out of the house!”-posts. Just denial.

Oh My Dog

Mayberry, I'm asking for help with my writing career. It looks as if it is taking a turn in the wrong direction.

Meet Louie. LuLu for short.

If you recognize him, or know him by another name, please take him home. He has been hanging out on the porch, where I do my writing.

You see, Mayberry, I have fallen in love. Please, please, please do not let me start writing for Dog Fancy. Please take him back!

Plans

I love marathon training. It makes life so simple! You just find a plan and follow it. In marathon training, you start with race day on the calendar and work backwards from there. You train incredibly hard FOREVER, and then in the weeks leading up to the race, you taper. This means your body has time to rest and recover for all the insane running. Somehow this works. I have no idea how. Everybody says it does. I tend to believe everybody.

It seems to be working! Last weekend, Danielle and I took a road trip to the marathon course. And you know what? Running with her, I cut FOURTEEN minutes off my half-marathon time! That is even after stopping a couple of times to pick up scary bugs to take home to her kids.


Um. No. That is not me touching it.

Totally not the point of today's blog! Today's blog: I decided to approach my book as I approached marathon training: find a plan and stick with it.

I looked at my word count. I counted the days until the end of the year. I did some math.

Sweet holy moses. If I write one page a day from now until the end of the year, my book will be (first draft) done! Do you know what that is? That is good news.