Working with Hubby

I work with my spouse. I guess this isn't the strangest thing in the world. Couples who own a business, for example, work together. I have acquaintances who work as a husband/wife team in their real estate business. The winery down the street from my sister's house is owned by a married couple, so those two work together every day.

But there's something different about it when you work at the same workplace as your spouse. Maybe it's because there's a social dynamic with work settings, and now you're mixing your marriage into that. For Clint and I, our jobs are even further enmeshed. Not only do we work at the same school, we both teach 7th grade, we have the same lunchtime, we're both on School Site Council and the Leadership Team, and we're both friends with the same teachers here on campus. Not to mention we commute to work together 45 minutes each way, every day.

So what are the pros and cons of working with your spouse? I don't think I'm even sure about this, so let me write them down and figure it out!

PROS

Shared Interest

Working the same job means Clint and I share a huge part of our lives. Talking about work comes easy when your partner is going through the same experiences as you, and you don't have to pretend to be interested (sorry, that sounds sorta cold).

Carpooling Buddy

Carpooling can get boring after awhile, but working with your spouse means you get to make that daily trip together. I'm especially grateful for this when we have treacherous road conditions due to snowy weather. 

Help on the Job

Technology meltdown? Call hubby. Broken cabinet? Call hubby. Out of glue? Call hubby. Clint has saved my hide in the classroom more times than I can count.

Respect/Admiration

This one can go the other way too--if you work with a spouse who's underperforming, it might embarrass you or make you feel judged by your admin/staff. But in my case, Clint is a creative, tech-savvy teacher and overall fun person who's respected on our campus. It's cool to feel this level of admiration for a colleague, then remind myself "Oh yeah, I'm married to the guy."

Breakfast

When Clint makes his breakfast, he makes mine. I come downstairs every morning to a travel mug of coffee and an egg/avocado/burrito-thing ready to go. (Though honestly, even when we worked separate jobs, he would still make my breakfast, so this is more an 'awesome hubby thing' than a 'working together thing').

Gossip

Clint is exposed to different staff members throughout the day than I am, so by the time we reconvene, we're both loaded with juicy gossip that the other wasn't privy to. And the best part? It doesn't count as gossiping when you share it with your spouse, because married couples are allowed to share everything. ;)

Empathy

Misery loves company. I love my job, but sometimes I'm so tired and drained that the idea of going to work makes me want to curl up in the fetal position. But when Clint and I are both dragging ass at 5:30 a.m--going through the pain together--it makes work an easier pill to swallow.

Friends/Colleagues

Clint's always been a great sport about going to wine nights and other social events with my colleagues. But now that we work together, my friends are legitimately his friends, too. We both love hanging out with people from work, and it feels good that he's no longer tagging along as my 'plus one.'

Flirting

Clint and I have a bit of a "professionalism be damned" attitude at work. We have no problems hugging in front of people, saying "I love you," or even dropping the occasional innuendo. Our colleagues have grown accustomed to our flirtiness and just roll with it (or jump in), and it adds a fun dynamic to what would otherwise be an ordinary day.

Family

Work feels less like work when family is there. I felt this dynamic back when my kids attended my school too. Maybe it's because no matter what curveballs are thrown at you throughout the day, knowing that the people you love the most are nearby, ready to give you a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on...well, it softens the blow.

CONS

Attached at the Hip

There's truth in the expression "absence makes the heart grow fonder." Being together 24/7 means never having time apart to miss each other. Little nuances, habits, etc., can be charming in smaller doses, but can compound to frustrating levels when you never get a chance to hit the reset button.

Toxic Negativity

I'm an upbeat "roll with the punches" person who doesn't like to dwell on negative stuff. My preferred commuting style is to blast my music and ignore any jackholes on the road. So when Clint blows off steam over a bad driver or road construction or whatever, it verbally craps on my entire morning. He also likes to fester in work politics, which I prefer to brush off (why dwell in things you can't change?). If we do get into an argument, there's no way to 'get away' to clear our heads. Honestly, this is the biggest con. I feel like this one should be in bold red.

Leaving Work at Work

In the old days when I came home, Clint and I would spend a few minutes at most talking about our workday before moving on to greener pastures. But now, having our livelihoods in common means work tends to consume all of our conversations. This makes it difficult to "leave work at work." We had to come up with ground rules last year (i.e. No talking about work once we hit the trees, no talking about work in bed, etc.), because living and breathing work from 5:30 a.m until 10:00 p.m is mentally draining. Unfortunately we're still struggling to follow our own rules, so this one's stuck on the list.

No Mystery

Back when Clint worked for the railroad, my job as a teacher held a sort of mystery and prestige (and vice-versa). Things you don't fully understand tend to be an enigma in your mind. I was 'the teacher in the family', he was 'the railroad conductor in the family', and it was cool having our own niche. But now that he's working the same job as me, it's lost its enigma-status. Sometimes that makes me feel less special in our marriage.

That's about the most I can brainstorm this round. But that was pretty enlightening! I'm happy to see the pros outweigh the cons.

Rough Draft Blob

I was cleaning up my Google Drive and came across my old Chasing Echoes folder. Within it I found 57 drafts of Chasing Echoes. 57! Included with these drafts were several rewrites of the very last chapter, each with titles such as Ch. 37-Drastic Rewrite, Ch. 37-Not so Drastic Rewrite, Ch. 37-Take Bazillion....

I also discovered the novel has gone by six titles. Here are the titles in order from original to final:

Daughters of Time
Face of Brahman
Spiraling
Diminished
There is No Dawn
Chasing Echoes

I remember I was never satisfied with any title (and frankly, I'm still not), which is strange because I've had no issue settling on a title for Black Lilies.

But back to the heaps of notes, drafts, etc. Thank goodness we're living in the digital age. An entire room could easily be gobbled up by the makings of one novel. My heart goes out to people married to writers twenty+ years ago. My husband already puts up with a lot being married to my insanity, but back then, writers' spouses would have had to deal with the Blob taking over their house. Except for in this case, the Blob is one big, fat, gelatinous mass of drafts and notes.

Roasting Snowmen & Finding Pickles

This year was my favorite Christmas. But take that proclamation with a grain of salt because in the same way my favorite song in the whole wide world changes weekly, I always think this Christmas is the best.

But this one really was the best! Because we got a white Christmas. Growing up in the desert, snow on any day feels like a holiday. But snow on Christmas...holy crap. It feels like a miracle. I guess now that we live in the mountains, we can expect more white Christmases in the future. But based on the excited buzz from all the other mountain residents, I can tell snow on Christmas day is pretty rare, even for up here. So yeah, I might have been a little weepy about it. :P

Christmas was great in other ways too, besides the snow. Clint's parents spent the night on Christmas Eve. We did our normal pajama party with breakfast for dinner. But this year we played a new hilarious 'Build a Snowman' game with giant marshmallows. The roll of your dice determines which part you add to your snowman--eye, buttons, arm, etc. Clint kept putting body parts that didn't belong (I'll let you use your imagination on that one). Here's my guy, all adorable and un-obscene:

Later, when I won the game, in a show of good sportsmanship, Clint staked his snowman and roasted him in our fireplace. Then he ate him.

*Warning: The following images might be too graphic for younger viewers.

Okay, I might have had a bite of the fella too.  

We also played the most cutthroat gift-exchange game ever, one that makes the traditional White Elephant gift exchange seem polite. It would take too long to explain the rules here, but it was savage. And of course, as we do every year, we played 'Find the Pickle'. Here's some of us (our booties at least) searching for it.

Even George the dog had his nose in the tree, looking for that allusive pickle. Clint finally found it and won a frying pan.

Oh, and in the true tradition of Christmas, the boys ended up having a light saber battle on the patio.

On Christmas morning we woke up to snow! Oh yeah, I mentioned that already, didn't I. After oohing and ahhing over it, we ate breakfast with Teri and Carey and then opened up presents. Clint, the gift ninja, struck again. He built for me--from scratch--this hanging light fixture:

It's larger, prettier, and more rustic in person. I had NO idea I was getting this for Christmas, which Clint found amusing because apparently he and Elijah created quite a ruckus in the garage when they were whipping the wood beam with chains in order to distress it. (I can only imagine what our neighbors thought was going on).

Later that morning, we drove to my sister's house for Christmas with my side of the family, having to bulldoze our way through two unplowed roads. I'd like to say it was a chore, but we didn't care. Because...snow!

I was going to write more here about Christmas at my sis's, but I'm starting to lose steam. So I'll just sum it up by saying Shan's house was the usual craziness, with tons of delicious food, an entire fortress of presents, and lots of merriment.

That last part sounds cheesy, but it's allowed since this is a post about Christmas.

Florida, Writing Lair, & Last 200 Words

It's hard to pause during summer to write about stuff, but I'll squeeze in some quick updates:

Florida: I was in Orlando, Florida last week for a conference. Clint brought the kids and we stayed in the Disney Coronado. They did all the touristy stuff while I did conferency stuff. Not an ideal vacation for me (insert pitiful woe-is-me music here), but I still did a lot of bonding with my coworkers, ate some good food, drank some great drinks, and attended at least a few sessions that reinvigorated me for the upcoming school year. Oh, and I got to go to Gatorland (and feed baby alligators!).



New Writing Lair: Aside from a few finishing touches like window trim and attic-access, my art/writing studio is finished! I have a little stereo in there now for music, cabinets with all of my drawing/painting supplies, my lounge area if I want to relax between writing sprints, my "fireplace" for cooler evenings...I even stocked it with wine for when I get writer's block (one bottle is leaning toward empty already). It's a good thing this space isn't equipped with a toilet and a fridge because at this point my belly and my bladder are the only two entities that can convince me to leave.

Driving Test: Trinity finally overcame her driving-anxiety and got her license today. It was her first time taking the test and you're allowed to miss fifteen points. She only missed one! I say this with excitement because back in the day I missed... well, let's just say a few more than one. ;)

I'm thinking this is enough updates for tonight? Here's the last 200 words for Black Lilies, chapter four. If it sounds familiar, it's because I actually posted this one in the past for reasons I can no longer remember. Anyway, it'll be the only 'last 200 words' that repeats.

 "I’ll tell you my name as soon as you tell me who you are, and what’s going on.” I crossed my arms and stepped back in a show of defiance. The assignment that was crumpled in my hand fell over my fingertips onto the linoleum floor. Moving quickly, I reached down to pick it up.
 “I’ve seen this stationery before” he said, leaning forward to look at my paper.
 “It’s not stationery, it’s just my assignment. It’s what I’m supposed to be working on right now, but I’ll get an ‘F’ now because of your impromptu performance of the Star Spangled Banner.”

 He squinted his eyes, examining it closer. “Let me see that.”

 Why would he want my paper? There was barely anything written on it. I shrugged. “Here.”

 I tried to hand it to him, but he didn’t move to take it. Instead, he tilted his head, as if trying to get a better view. He mouth gaped open before he quickly snapped it shut. His body seemed to freeze. “I know this writing.” He jerked back, his fists clenched at his side. “Tell me your name, clever girl.”

 I stood silent.

 “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Aviva.”

 My mouth fell open, and he disappeared.

(206 words)

My Happy Place

I can't believe I'm posting this. It's still so surreal to me.

I'm moving! It has been my dream for years now to live in the mountains. Lucky for me this has been a shared dream; Clint has always wanted this too. We've done things in these last few years to make our lives in the desert more tolerable, like upgrading the interior of our home, putting in the pool, and so on, but in the end it all feels like putting lipstick on a pig. No matter how pretty we make this place, we still live in the desert, with scorching temperatures and blowing dust and people who simply don't take pride in their community. 

Don't get me wrong, I have no regrets over the work we've put into our house. The pool especially, because it has given us a reprieve from the oppressive desert heat for three summers now, and it's going to be a huge selling feature for our house. Likewise everything else we've added will increase our home's value. And honestly, we've had happy lives here. I grew up in the desert and it will always feel like home to me. But, for lack of a less corny way of saying it, my heart is happiest in the forest. I can't even describe the level of calm I feel when I'm nestled into trees. It's weird, right?...the different settings that bring serenity to different people? Your happy place might be the beach, the calming waves of the ocean. Or maybe it's open pastures...a rambling farm house with wide green spaces reaching for the horizon. In the same way, mine is the mountains, and no matter how much work I put into my current home, I just can't shake the desire for towering trees and fresh piney fragrances. So Clint and I decided to finally get serious about looking for a property up there (other factors played into this decision, but I'll just leave it at this for now). We ended up spending the first half of summer looking at land--even putting an offer on one parcel--thinking we'd build a home. But it turns out that the cost to build a home in the mountains is so astronomical that we'd be upside-down on our mortgage before we even moved into our new home. I always thought building a house was cheaper than buying, but I couldn't have been more wrong.

So after spending a month haggling and dreaming, we decided we just couldn't do it. This brought us to option #2, purchasing an already existing home. The tricky part of this plan is that mountain homes are...well, downright weird. Most are three stories with very compartmentalized rooms and bizarre floor plans. For example, one house we walked into had a front door that went straight into the kitchen. There was one other front door entrance on the lower level that went through the master bedroom. So for guests, I'd have a choice: Do I want them to see my dirty dishes or my dirty underwear? (Not that mine are dirty, of course, because anything coming out of me is pure sugar and sunshine). Hmmm. *scratches head*. Another house was loaded with mysterious stairs going into dark places with lots of crevices and crannies...it was like the Winchester House spawned an evil little lovechild. Some of the more "normal" floor plans in the mountains feature split levels, where you walk into a little platform and have to immediately decide whether you're going upstairs or down. I can't even entertain houses like this. It's like getting ready to enter an elevator and being greeted with, well, half the elevator. (I am the analogy queen!). 

No one is at fault for these bizarre floor plans, it's just that you're dealing with homes that are either built into the mountain or hanging off a cliff, so home-builders are forced to get super creative with their floor plans and utilize every bit of space they have available. And honestly, it turns out that looking at quirky mountain homes is a ton of fun. House hunting in the desert is pretty boring. "Here's another ranch...yep, another track home...oh look at that, another ranch...). But in the mountains, you never know what to expect when you walk through the front door. The exclamations from my kids ranged anywhere from "There's for sure a dead body buried over here" to "I call dibs on that dark basement room from the pits of hell!" (May have tweaked their wording a little). Needless to say, I made my peace with the fact that there was no way we were going to get a "normal" home. So our goal was simply to find as close to normal as possible. 

Enter: This house. It was love at first sight.

Front patio

Side-view of house

Street-view - One driveway goes to the carport, the other to the garage

Street view #2

Carport

Side-view of garage and studio apartment

My future writing lair and art studio! Or as Clint calls it, my she-shed.

Two car garage (rare in the mountains) with studio apartment above.
Apartment has one bedroom, a kitchenette, and a bathroom.

So there you have it. I'm sure I'll be posting more in the coming weeks, if I have time to breathe. Everything is happening so fast. Clint and I will be scrambling this month to get our current house cleaned out, repairs made, etc., so we can put it on the market. I guess I'm supposed to be packing too, but I just can't. While I have no problem imagining moving into the new house, I can't picture myself moving out of this house. So I need to wait a little longer for all of this to sink in before I can get my butt packing.

My Very Own Writing Corner

Clint gave me my own writing cove for Christmas!

To put this in context, I've been desperately craving my own little writer's hideaway for years now. When we first moved into our house, I gave Clint the spare room to use as his miniature man cave. At the time it seemed fair, because I pretty much had free reign in decorating our whole house. He decided he wanted to turn the spare room into an office (with a small bed in case I kicked him out for snoring or thrashing around in his sleep), and he wanted an Asian theme. So we painted the room in reds and yellows, brought in a black cherry blossom bedspread and some other Asian decor, hung up black curtains, displayed all of his dojo belts/black belt certificate/swords, and so on. When we finished, it looked like this:

OLD OFFICE

Not exactly my style, but it looked kind of cool. It was colorful, clean, and fun, plus I was happy that Clint had his own little space in our house to play on the computer and watch his anime.

In the last few years, this room has changed functions countless times. At one point it was an exercise room, another time a painting studio, and once, it was even an archery room of sorts where Clint hand-fletched arrows and strung bows. The dude changes hobbies a lot, and this poor little room was forced to keep up. The room was always messy (unlike what you see in the above picture) and over time the walls looked kind of like ketchup and mustard to me, but it was functional and lived in, and that was fine with me.

But then Clint started to use the room for storage. Things that he didn't want to disappear into the garage slowly crept into the room, until the desk became so cluttered and heaped with stuff that it rendered the office unusable. He stopped using the desktop computer altogether in lieu of using his laptop in the living room. The pillows all disappeared, the bed was messy, the floors were littered with boxes and who knows what else, and the room turned into a dark, depressing space. I wish I had taken a picture of it in that state, but no one wants to take pictures of things that suck.

Little by little his man cave was making less sense to me. It wasn't just the perpetual mess. It was the fact that the room had become stagnant. No one was using it anymore--it was just a place to "stick things" when you had no where else to put them. And I couldn't help but note the irony, given that as both a teacher and a writer, I would treasure a quiet space to do my grading and writing. Every Sunday I sit at the dining room table to grade. If I need a pen, or paper clips to organize students' work, or a post-it to label something, etc., I'm forced to dig through batteries and bolts and whatever-else in the office to find what I need (which these past few months had become impossible). And writing is even worse. I can't even describe how hard it is to write a book at a dining room table in the middle of your house with kids and pets running around.

At least, this WAS the case.

When Clint asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I told him I wanted the office. I honestly expected him to argue, and I was prepared with all my reasons. You know, things like "My job requires me to grade," and "You're not using it anymore," and "I'll treasure this room and take care of it like no one else has." But I think he must have been thinking about giving it to me for awhile, because he didn't protest at all. Instead, he had me show him a picture of what kind of work space would be ideal to me.

Blue is my favorite color (as in, the deepest brightest part of our desert sky), so that part was easy. But I also wanted a space that was lively and fresh--to keep me alert when I'm trying to write. So I showed him a picture of a room that was cornflower blue with pops of white and red. I was prepared to do this project with him, but he decided he wanted this to be my "big" gift--that he would do all the work and I would get to be surprised with the results. That part was a little nerve-wracking for me, because I'm used to being in control of home decor type projects. He had the office door locked for weeks, and I was going crazy wanting to see it. But it was worth the madness. The grand reveal was Christmas morning, and here's what I walked into:

NEW OFFICE

That tree decal gets me the most. For at least a full minute I couldn't even take in the rest of the room because I couldn't rip my eyes away from it.

The gum ball machine I got for my birthday last year--I had wanted one ever since I wrote my gum ball stories. It makes sense to have it in this room now.

My typewriter!

There's still some work to do, like hanging up some of my smaller oil paintings and replacing the ugly brown door (not shown in these pictures) with a new white one. I'm also thinking of painting that desk an antique white over spring break. But I love this room! Like, I can't get myself to leave (okay, don't tell anyone but I slept in here last night. I had to, just once). And the room is just girly enough that Clint doesn't want anything to do with it. He walks in from time to time and says "It's just so...pretty," and shakes his head sadly and walks out. So it's mine now. All MINE. (That's reading a little more villainous than I was going for).

Outside of the whole office thing, Christmas overall was pretty wonderful. I'll try to write about it later, and maybe post some pics (I think I say this every year and never end up doing it). The only downfall is I have a nasty, nasty cold. I don't even know how that's possible since I was just sick during Thanksgiving break. Clint says it's because I don't let myself get sick when I'm working, so the second I'm on break, my body's all, 'Good, I can finally fall apart!' I've heard this same theory from some of my coworkers too. It seems a whole slew of us teachers get sick right when break starts. But I have to say, as far as nasty colds go, this is a really pleasant one. Pleasant, as in I don't feel sick AT ALL. I actually feel really good. But it's nasty, because I'm one big ball of flem, and it has totally wiped out my voice. AGAIN. This is the second time in a thirty day period I've had no voice. At least the first time I was down to a raspy whisper-type thing. This time my voice sounds wheezy. It's horrible, really...my kids were telling me earlier, "Stop talking Mom. Seriously."

So yes, wheezing ball of flem. Let me tell you. I'm sexy.

This is SO enough writing for now.

P.S. I owe @MelDouleur and @bloodglorygrace a dancing clip in the future since I said I would participate in the Christmas Carol hop and I didn't. But here are their awesome contributions of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen and Silent Night.

Dirt, Wind, & Why I Don't Grocery Shop

My post titles are really going downhill.

June 30th is creeping closer and closer, and I have NOTHING WRITTEN. It turns out that re-doing your backyard is about as counterproductive to writing a novel as you can get. I mean, yes, it's the contractors who are installing the patio and the pool, but we're on our own when it comes to building a fence that will actually pass inspection, and figuring out some sort of landscaping (lest we have a big watery hole in the middle of dirt, which could be fun, but not quite what we're going for). So this entire week, which I had pictured as me chilling out at Starbucks with my laptop, has instead been me elbow deep in dirt. Soooo much dirt. It's in my ears and in my hair and up my nose and...in just about every orifice that grains of sand can wiggle their way into. Who knew that digging a few holes and planting a few rose bushes and building a few trenches would be so...dirty?

It's the desert. Oh my gosh you guys there is SO MUCH DIRT. 

And do you have any idea what it's like trying to hang up panels for a fence when the wind is slamming into you like a semi-truck? WHY IS IT SO DAMN WINDY? 

So now that I've talked y'all into purchasing real estate in the High Desert....

But seriously, for all the complaining I'm doing, Clint has been doing ten times the amount of work as me. The dude is a working machine. He has been living/breathing/sleeping/eating backyard fence right now. 

Well, minus the eating.

But I am happy to say that things are progressing nicely. Which is good, because we scheduled our "Pool Warming Party" for the 21st. This one's for family only, since our backyard won't be finished and the pool and spa will be freezing (we can't run the heaters for three weeks because the plaster needs to cure--though water is just fine). Here's the little invite I made using PowerPoint:

It includes "a dash of Lucas's birthday" because my little nephew Lucas is turning five, and he so badly wanted to have a birthday pool party at our house. We originally told Moo (my sister in-law) that we wouldn't be able to, because the pool wouldn't be ready in time. So she made plans to have a small birthday gathering for him at an ice-cream parlor down the hill instead. Well lo and behold we discovered the pool would be ready in time (though barely), so now Lucas is celebrating his birthday twice. The ice-cream party will be for presents and sweets, but our house will be for splashing around and all-around fun. Moo ordered these cupcakes for our pool party:

Cute cupcakes makes up for frigid water and an incomplete backyard, right? (Say "right").

On the writing frontier, I met up with my good friend, Brandon, for a critique session. I've been friends with his family for years (eight to be exact), especially his dad who actually appears in past blog posts as Mr. A.  But Brandon and I bonded with each other at the beginning of this school year when he started subbing regularly at the Ranch. He just started writing a SciFi book, so over summer we decided to meet up once a week to critique each other's work.  Our first meeting was on Thursday, but we went ahead and swapped chapters the day before so we would be prepared. Overall, considering we're making this up as we go, our first CP session was pretty awesome.  Who knows? Maybe we'll be able to find one or two other writers in our area to join us in the future. Though I wouldn't want more than four, I think. I love how much you can get done with a smaller group. 

By the way, Brandon texted me a few days before our meeting with "The real question is do we meet noonish for beer or in the morning for coffee? You know my vote." So of course we did beer. Which is totally breaking Ernest Hemingway's profound advice, "Write drunk, edit sober." But I think CPing over beer is brilliant. Looser tongues and more accepting of critique.

Oh, I almost forgot to say that today is my and Clint's anniversary. Sixteen years. And it happens to fall on Friday the 13th, AND a full moon. I really, really wish we liked scary movies so we could have commemorated this probably-never-to-happen-again-in-our-lifetime event with a horror-flick marathon (what better way to celebrate your marriage than with blood and gore?). Sadly, we both hate those kinds of movies, so that wasn't going to happen. Ultimately Clint had to work today, but we were able to go to dinner tonight at our favorite sushi restaurant. He gave me perfume, a sapphire necklace, and an orange rose (inside story). We never do anniversary gifts, so now I look like a complete chump. But I did love the gifts. It was a pretty sweet surprise considering I wasn't expecting anything.

I went grocery shopping today. This is only noteworthy because I don't go grocery shopping--unless Clint's out of town for three months and we will literally starve if I don't. Anyway, Elijah kept trying to sneak a watermelon in the basket, which was funny because of all the tiny treats you can try to sneak into a cart, he chooses a watermelon. Still, I have to say I was impressed. Even though I made him put the watermelon back (which he had named "Melon-ie") a thousand times, every time I turned around for a fraction of a second, that damn watermelon was back in the basket. I couldn't figure out how he was doing it. Like, does he have some sort of large-fruit transportation device hidden away in his pockets? Later, when we were unloading our groceries--sans Melonie--somehow a giant jar of pickles dropped and exploded on the ground. By the time the kids and I got into the house, we were all bleeding from various spots (flip-flops don't provide much armor against projectile glass). At this point Trin says, "You know Mom, when we go grocery shopping with Dad, we don't usually end up bleeding."

See, this is why I don't grocery shop.

Summer so Far: Writing, Pool, & Aqua Cycles

I just posted yesterday, but I don't think lamenting about my chicken whose wing got ripped off counts as a real post. Plus I really want to do a writing update. Okay, and a pool update.

WARNING: The below prattling falls into the category of boring stuff that's really only interesting to me, so I hereby apologize in advance.

Writing update: I have only two more chapters (maybe 3) until my book is finished! But what I'm even more excited about is the fact that Clint sat down with me for three or four hours and helped me map out all of book 2, and most of book 3. I even have the conflict for book 4 now, I just don't have that one fleshed out like I do the other two. I am thrilled with books 2 and 3! Particularly #2. It has a fun story concept, but also starts to play around with the bigger conflict...the one that carries through until the end of the series. The four sisters really have to start working together toward the end of book 2, segwaying into the beginning of book 3, where they learn the full truth of who (or what) they are.

Look at me, talking about it like it's already written.

What's crazy is I would have never sat down and mapped out the series the way I did if Clint hadn't forgotten his wallet. He was on his way to work the other night, and had driven for an hour when he stopped for gas. It was there he realized he had accidentally left his wallet at home. There was no way he could continue on without it (no money for meals, no way of checking in his motel room, etc,) so I told him I would meet him halfway to bring it to him. He said don't worry about it. He doesn't really trust my crappy night vision, but mainly he was discouraged at the idea of having to repeat that hour of driving. So he decided to call in sick. though he was feeling a little guilty about the decision. I told him, "Don't stress, you never forget your wallet. This happened for a reason." Well he ended up coming home and was SO in the mood to talk about my series. We started what began as the world's worst brainstorming session, with him tossing out ideas and me rolling my eyes at the outrageous stupidity of them. But little by little, the ideas started getting better, and I started spinning off his suggestions with ones of my own, and the "What if's" grew to amazing proportions, and before we knew it, we had a kick-ass sequel. Okay, it still has a lot of holes, but it's a lot more than I had to work with for my first book. I told Clint that someday, when I get around to writing and publishing this thing, I'm going to dedicate it to his MIA wallet.

For the record I don't think that brainstorming my series was the "reason" for him forgetting his wallet--I'm pretty sure the universe doesn't really care that I'm trying to write a novel. But it was awfully convenient.

I have a title for the book now too! I disclosed the new title publicly to two tweeps, but deleted those tweets when my soon-to-be editor @boundiali recommended I not broadcast it to the world until Cover Reveal Day. The new title is a double entendre, but the reader won't realize that until the beginning of book 3.

Pool Update: Okay, so the pool! The tile is finished. Next week they're pouring the patio, and then once our fence is finished, they'll do the plaster. They pretty much hold your pool hostage until your fence has passed inspection. At this point, the estimated date of completion is June 18th. Here's what it looks like today:

Brickwork on spa

Close-up of tile (colors are more faded when dry)

One tile catastrophe after another resulted in Clint and I making these tiles ourselves. He cut the burnt sienna tiles into the four corner pieces that you see above, and we pieced together the decorative centers using stock tiles and sample glass tiles ripped straight off of the board of our tile store (they let us rip off their samples because they were making up for the fact that they royally screwed us over on our original order--long story). We hot-glued our arrangements onto 6'x6' square cut-outs of screen (as in, we literally tore down our dining room window screen and cut it into pieces for this emergency project), and voila! Twenty-eight completely custom accent tiles, ready for installation.  The little yellow and white glass tile on the bottom right even has starfish in it. Super cute. We saved $580 by doing the accent tiles ourselves, but I think that might be offset by the spike in blood pressure that comes with being jolted awake in the morning and told that you only have a couple of hours to do an arts-and-craft-project from hell.

Non-writing- and non-pool-related news ('cause sometimes I actually have a life beyond those things. Um...sometimes): I took the kids up to Shan's house yesterday and spent the day relaxing at Lake Gregory--er--Lake Pinecone. It was a gorgeous day. My parents drove up too, along with our friend Sarah. Shan and Jer made everyone an awesome lunch and then we walked down to the lake. My favorite part of the day was riding the aqua cycles with my mom. If you've never seen one before, these are the ones at Lake Pinecone:

And here's what they do:

They look all cute and whimsical, but these things are a workout. It costs $5 for a half hour, and I was laughing because when someone asked the worker "Will you holler at us when our time is up?" she said something like, "No, we don't keep track, but you'll know when your thirty minutes are up because you'll be dying." I wish I could have captured a picture of me and my mom riding ours, but there's nowhere to keep a cell phone safe once you're out on the lake, especially given that on the other side of the lake were these giant waterfall-sprayer things. My mom and I, who turned out to be crummy aqua cycle drivers, ended up trapping ourselves in one of the sprayers and getting drenched.

Have I ever mentioned that Shannon's house is a mere ten minute walk from all this awesomeness? Man...talk about living the life.

My Better-Late-than-Never Christmas Post

I have to squeeze in a post about Christmas while it's still 2013!*

*(Bad news: it's now 2014. I never published this, damn it. But I'm still counting it).

For Christmas Eve we had our usual pajama-party slash breakfast-for-dinner extravaganza (why did I write out 'slash'?) with Teri, Carey, Amanda, Mike, and all of the kids. It was the usual fun. The gifts were super nice this year. I think my favorite was this set of "Sunrise" iced-tea glasses from Teri:

The glass is thick and textured, with bright glass bits embedded. I loved them so much I went to the website she had purchased them from (One Kings Lane) and bought another set of four.

My other, bigger favorite was this gorgeous Damask Parsons chair for my art desk (also from Clint's parents):

My favorite part of the night was drinking two shots of Blueberry Moonshine and trying on Carey's guille suit. I wish I had a picture. I looked like the Swamp Thing. After the Moonshine, Trin and I had the following conversation (her green, me red):

Are you drunk Mom?
No. Ask me any tricky question and I'll answer it.
Okay (glances at nativity set on side table).  What did the wise men bring as gifts to Jesus?
Incense, myrrh, and...um...lemons.
Really? You're going with lemons?
Yes. Lemons. They were a very rare commodity back in the B.C. They were like gold. Instead of lemonade back then, they had gold-ade.
I'm pretty sure the wise men didn't bring baby Jesus LEMONS.
You're just upset because you know I'm right. Cheer up kid. When life hands you lemons, make, uh, gold-ade.

I only have this conversation memorized because she's repeated it back to me over and over. And her dad. And her best friend. And her grandma.

Yeah, moving on.

So Christmas Day we all woke up and opened up our stockings. My stocking was loaded with chocolates, patterned stalkings, bikini undies, glitter nail polish, etc. The biggest surprise was this necklace:

It's sterling silver with a fire opal in the center. I couldn't believe Clint put that in my stocking. That could have been its own gift.

After stockings we opened up our gifts. My favoritest (like I still get goose bumps) was this Gusti Geniune Leather Messenger Bag:

I love it. It holds my laptop, my charger, my manuscript notebook, my kindle, and my pens. But as if that weren't enough, inside the bag was a confirmation for the San Diego Writer's Conference, a four day event that starts on Valentine's Day. I would never have dreamed that Clint would come up with this idea. It's a $350 event, and he's not a writer. But he understands my passion for writing, and he told me that he knew whatever he got me for Christmas was going to support that. The dude is seriously the idiot savant of gift-giving--this is his one amazing talent.

Oh, during the conference Clint arranged for me to have a one-on-one appointment with an agent who will be going over chapter 1 of my manuscript. Can you believe that? Granted it's not for promotion purposes (it's not being submitted for publication consideration), but I am super excited because I get to receive feedback from a real agent. I have to mail the chapter out this week, so thank God for Ifeoma who has helped me go over chapter 1with a fine-tooth comb and get it as smooth and tight as possible.

Okay, back to Christmas. After our own little Christmas was done, we headed over to my folks house. It, too, was awesome. Opening presents took about three hours, but when you have my parent's delicious spread of appetizers and egg nog the way it was meant to be dranken (WITH brandy), you never get bored. My favorite gift from my parent's house was my annual outfit from my sis. She got me cream colored jeans that fit perfectly, a maroon-colored sweater that hugs me in all the right places, and a gorgeous beaded necklace. My other favorite gift was a drawing from my dad. It wasn't a drawing he composed, it was one I did in high school--1994. The background of the drawing is sort of a long story, so I'll just skip ahead and say it was simple and childlike and eventually I threw it out. Well my dad found it in the trash, pulled it out (without telling me), and kept it all these years. He framed it and gave it to me for Christmas to show me where my "art" had begun. What got me the most was back when he pulled it out of the trash, we had a very volatile relationship. Back then, I felt like he despised me. The fact that we were in that rocky period of our lives when he salvaged the drawing is what touches me the most. I can't even say how much I love that man today. He's a prime example of how family has nothing to do with blood.

I just realized I wrote the word "dranken" above. And I teach Language Arts. This is the kind of education your precious offspring is receiving, people.

Okay, next up: New Year's Eve. Hopefully I get that one banged out before Easter.