Happy Birthday, Guy Fieri! I Had Some Burger Love at Johnny Garlic's in Honor of You!

Beauty Hacks

I’m not a vain person by any means, but I do value my self-maintenance and spend my money wisely on products most of the time.  I’m not above cutting corners with certain things in my beauty regimen.  For example, I went for a power walk yesterday--also known as chasing my lil’ princesses around and around the block on their bikes for 40 minutes--and called it good.  They had fun, and I worked up a sweat.  Workout Hack accomplished.

When it comes to beauty products, I’m also willing to try out just about anything before I commit.  When I do though, I’m fiercely loyal.  If I like it, regardless of the price, I’m sold forever and ever.  Case in point, I’ve been a Wen Girl for years.  (It’s okay to laugh, but I have frizzy/curly hair and nothing else works as well, you see…).  If I’m shopping around, I’ll try the frugal route first and buy anything and everything to vet out my possibilities before I do the same with expensive products.  I use word of mouth, online reviews, infomercials--you name it--because I’m always in pursuit of that perfect beauty product that will miraculously transform my life.  Then, I’m sold and will stock up on it like a doomsday survivor.

Makeup is optional for me on the weekends and vacations, unless I’m headed out the door going somewhere other than the grocery store.  Unfortunately, in my case, sporting a natural look still requires some prep work.  I’m not into a lovely glow unless I’m at the gym, so I achieve the matte finish that I want when I’m not wearing makeup with PRIMER.

Once upon a time, I had this one particular primer that I absolutely loved.  I could only get it through a distributor and had hoarded enough of it to the point that the company discontinued the product for a few years before I realized it.  How could they?  It was ‘the one’.  You know, that perfect primer that mattified your skin to a soft, dull, mono-toned shade of baby’s butt smooth.  They left me wandering the aisles of Ulta helplessly in search of a primer replacement.

For the past few months, I’ve been accumulating several under $10 primers in search of something to get me by until I find ‘the next best thing’ product that I can sell my soul to in exchange for the natural look.  My pursuit has been some of the best girly-girl fodder for my RomCom writing I have tangled myself up in for a while now.  I even tried one $5 product, that not only made moisturizer unnecessary, it managed to turn my face into a shimmering night club, rivaling Edward Cullen basking in the sunshine on any given day.  So much for being a true primer.  Other products I’ve purchased are, at best, good enough to put foundation on top of, but that’s about it.

Then, I did something very typical of me recently.  I fell for an unusual Beauty Hack.  I had seen it around on Pinterest, but I never thought of trying it until my primer crisis.  Someone was claiming that Monistat’s Chafing Relief Powder Gel was comparable to Smashbox’s Primer.  I was intrigued.  Is it possible that a clear gel intended for inner thighs, bikini lines, and other intimate areas prone to chafing could be a suitable replacement for an expensive primer?  I had to try it, if anything, for another good laugh at my own expense on this mission of mine.  I even giggled a little when I found myself at the store facing an awkward moment while I was scanning the products in the angry-v section by the condoms looking for this mysterious elixir that I could slather all over my face in order to look pretty.

The punch line…I’m still using it regularly while I keep looking for ‘the new one’.  I wear it naturally with or without moisturizer, and, either way, it dries to a silky matte and keeps my skin tone and shine in check all day long.  Given its intended purpose, it’s also non-irritating.  Forget having the soft skin of a baby’s butt, my face now mimics the fleshy inner thigh of a desperate woman, and, for the time being, I’m okay with it.  My primer pursuit is definitely going in a scene in one of my romantic comedy books someday, and you can laugh and say it’s true--you heard it here first.  But, if you happen to know of a good primer, I’m all ears--I mean face.

I Know You

Ironically, I lectured on the Hero’s Journey Archetype today. It’s a splendid thing how life imitates literature all too seamlessly sometimes, twisting the whole ‘way things are supposed to be’ around for you and me right now. But, I finally managed to set out on a quest recently, and, if you’re reading this, you may have just inadvertently joined the assorted cast of characters who help me along the way.

I promise to push through all of the tests and challenges I must face on my quest keeping you in mind. I am the giver of sticky sweet romance, dribbling with the intent to pass along a smile, and you’re the reader, awaiting a good book.  I am the creator of all of those sentimental hearts and flowers peppering the pages of a romantic comedy novel that you can’t wait to dive into someday, like some treasured boon I’m going to hand over to you, empowering you with laughter as you read.

I know you. You’re my helper inspiring me to keep moving forward as I clamor towards publication. You’re that kind soul looking out for me as you watch my journey unfold.  I keep cracking open my heart and pouring out the contents all over this bloggish talisman, and you keep reading each page thoughtfully, cheering me on.  You secretly hope that I succeed because you crave a light-hearted love story, and, some time in the future, I’m going to give you that escape because today we danced in perfect synchronicity.

And, still, we’ve only just begun this wonderful adventure.

Traditions

Traditions can develop out of the most unlikely situations.  My family has a tradition around the holidays to play the movie "Elf" everyday from Thanksgiving until Christmas Eve, which is generally reserved for the non-stop marathon of "The Christmas Story."  Our children even named their creepy elves-on-the-shelves, which we would reposition every night for everyone's amusement, Ralphie and Jovie after characters in both movies.

And, at my work, we have a tradition on campus that marked its 39th Anniversary today as the New Year has finally ushered in a new semester.  We call it, The Oldtimers' Breakfast.  Past and present teachers fellowship over pancakes served up with a smile by the men on our staff.  Some of these former teachers come hobbling in with their stories of the good ol' days when they used to ride their horses to the 'new campus' when it was just a handful of classrooms in a swampy field long before our tradition had begun.  Now over 80,000 cars drive by us on any given day.

Even my wooden pointer has this murky patina to it that rivals any antique.  It came with the classroom.  I wield it with pride because I know that I'm holding onto years of other teachers' memories, even as I create my own.  The original school house is over a century old and sits as a monument just up the road from where our current campus is located, but even our newer campus is so old now, it has become irreparable.

Next year's breakfast will mark the end of yet another era in our school's history as an inevitable move is set to take place in the fall of 2016.  As long as our school bears its original name in our new location, we are still the same ol' school, and we'll all continue to gather together over breakfast and swap stories about our many experiences.  We're an awkward family of strangers brought together by a common denominator...our love of teaching.

I don't mind the impending move.  It's long over due.  You can be assured, though, my pointer's coming with me.  And, eventually, I'll hand it off to someone else when I come hobbling in to get my fill of a plateful of pancakes someday.

Living Present Tense

I tend to live in the Future.  Most people live in the Past.  Not me.  I plan for everything with my endless To-Do Lists and fine-tuned Schedule of Events Calendar.  There is always something happening soon, and, I assure you, I have meticulously prepped for its arrival.  But, sometimes, things don't quite go as planned.

A couple of weeks ago, I had bought a box of macarons and a bottle of pink 'champagne'--both prominent elements in my novel that I'm about to pitch.  My plan was to partake of these scrumptious delectables as soon as I finished editing the novel in its entirely--query and synopsis included--in about a week per said scheduled event.

Then, I did something yesterday that I had to do. I departed from Scrivener and took on Microsoft Word for Mac to satisfy a particular submission requirement.  Now, if you have no idea what Scrivener is, then jump to the next paragraph, but, if you do, then, you know.  Oh.  How.  You.  Know.  It's the most genius and complicated friend or foe known to any writer.  In summary, the export did not go well.

After shedding a few tears from battling saving and renaming the file, bizarre margins, and pop-ups that made no sense to me--just to name a few angsts--I clamped my computer shut and sent it up stairs to serve a time out for the rest of the night.  Instead of sulking about possibly missing my deadline because of the countless hours I would need to wade though instructional videos to figure out how to fix my growing list of problems, I decided to live in the Present Tense.

I marched into the kitchen, grabbed the box of macarons, started passing them around to my family like a fish monger, and handed over the bottle of 'champagne' for my husband to uncork for me.  It was time to celebrate.  It didn't matter that things weren't going as planned to me anymore.  I was done.  Maybe my manuscript still had some editing needs and creating a .docx submittal was going to provide me with all kinds of valuable lessons in patience to solve them in my near Future, but, nonetheless, I was finished, and I had been for weeks.  Why hadn't I acknowledged it, yet?  What was I waiting for?

The future is always going to be out of reach for me, yet I still clamor towards it with my explicit plans.  But, yesterday, I went all spontaneous on myself, and, by the end of the night, I was laughing instead of crying.  Maybe the 'champagne' helped, but still.  We had a party, and it couldn't have come at a better time than in the Present Tense.      

    

2 Out of 3 Trees Agree--Christmas is Over

A lot of wailing and gnashing of teeth happened earlier today as we dismantled the decorations and packed up the Christmas trees...two out of three of them, at least.  The pink one gets to stay.  It became our shrine to all things girly during a season of more dramatic colors after my young daughters begged me to buy it for them when they saw it on the shelf among all the garlands at Target.  I admit, I was just as thrilled to bring it home as they were.  It's a dinky, little, sparkly statement piece that begs for attention, so we doted on it like a princess.  Being a mere two feet tall, she traveled well, migrating between two bedrooms, mine and the girls'.  Wherever we were hanging out, we brought her along and found a way to help her fit in.

Today, we dressed her up in heart-shaped ornaments and tucked her into the corner of our dining room, insisting that she should stay awhile as Valentine's Day is just around the corner now, and the occasion wouldn't be complete without a festive Christmas tree in disguise.  Letting go of Christmas is never an easy accomplishment, especially in this household, but we managed today to make the best of it by convincing ourselves that our little, pink princess still belonged.

The whole situation reminds me of the editing process.  You know the one precious scene that you doted on for weeks...the one that you adorned with fancy words and kept close to your heart as you tried to fit it in somewhere because it was just too cute to delete...yeah, that one.  But, no matter how much you want it around, everyone else wants you to get rid of it because it just doesn't belong in the story anymore. Only you just can't quite give it up yet, so you cram it in the corner of a polished chapter and change it up a bit, hoping no one will mind.

I am in the process of adjusting my manuscript to suit the word count requirements of a few publishing houses and collaborating on which sparkly, little princesses get packed up and put away.  It's a painful process with plenty of wailing and gnashing of teeth, just like earlier today.  Letting go of something we adore is never easy, but just like the other two Christmas trees, the edited material may find its way back into another season of writing someday.  For now, though, I will keep editing as needed by the light of our little, sparkly, pink tree, at least a little while longer before I finally put her in a box in the garage once and for all.  (Then, of course, I'll unpack the gumdrop tree, as soon as Easter rolls around.)

This Writer's Resolutions List

New Year's Resolutions make me cringe.  It doesn't matter how committed I am to abiding by the list, it always seems to lose ground sometime around spring when even I, a dedicated teacher, look towards Heaven and scream, "My God, when will this school year ever end!"  As my tendency towards slackery overrides my actions, I slip into a robotic daze until June, pushing all things personal aside and focusing solely on the finish line at work.  I bring hundreds of essays home to grade, I hibernate from the allergies swarming outside, I even stress eat like it's the day before starting an HCG Diet. It's a perfect storm for writer's drought.  But...here I go again scratching out another To-Do List for 2015 because I'm a habitual list-maker by nature, and, if I don't write it down, I'll go mad.

#1  WRITE EVERYDAY

Whether it's blogging, journaling, or pecking out pages of a novel, I am going to practice a Dr. Seuss writing approach by breaking free from my desk at home.  I am going to find a variety of locale to spill words all over the page at, such as, in a coffee shop, or under a tree, or on a bed, or anywhere else I can unload my head..., and I am going to do this on a daily basis, no matter what.

#2  EXERCISE MY BODY WHILE ENGAGING MY MIND

I tend to listen to music when I work out.  Doesn't everybody?  It always prompts me to want to write, though.  My thoughts race right alongside my pulse when I am in motion, and I fumble with my Notes App to peck out any inspiration that manifests, often times breaking my pace, so I resolve to start accessing my Voice Memos App while I am exercising.  I also kind of look forward to creeping out the people around me at the gym when I start prattling into my cell phone about, "So 'n' so's caramel colored eyes glancing coyly across the crowded room of sweaty strangers, in search of such 'n' such....'  Romance novels are supposed to get the heart racing to a certain degree anyway, right?

#3  BROADEN MY CIRCLE OF WRITERLY FRIENDS

Since I have set out on my journey to accomplish the ultimate and ongoing goal of publication, I have gathered a handful of cheerleaders, proofreaders, and coffee-drinking scone eaters to surround myself with for inspiration and assistance.  (Darn you, Dr. Seuss.  I'm probably going to be like this for the rest of the night!)  I commit to finding other romance novelists, veteran or just beginning their adventure like me, to glean advice from or have a good laugh with as we compare notes on how to tackle our individual Writer's Resolutions Lists.  And, just like my To-Do Lists, I need more.  Who's with me?

On the Last Day of the Year 2014

It doesn't snow where I live because once every twenty or so years doesn't count.  A few miles up the highway, on the other hand, is a proverbial winter wonderland.  Inspiration abounds as countless trees provide every breath of fresh air with a crisp sweetness, and the landscape beckons snow angels as soon as winter comes around...or so we thought when we squeezed in a day trip to the snow with the children today to close out 2014, and what I mean by snow is the hard ice in the shape of snow that blanketed the landscape like a twice-baked nail salon lacquer.

I'm pretty sure it made no difference to my children, though.  As soon as they were slipping and sliding around on the illusion of snow, my seven-year-old found out the hard way that she didn't need a sled to ride down the slope.  Then, she kept on trudging back up the slight hill and riding it back down again on her bottom, laughing all the way.  My four-year-old kicked and clawed with all her might through the crusty layer until she uncovered enough loose ice crystals she could scoop it all up and throw it over her head and pretend that it was snowing.

It made me think of how important it is to have that childlike determination to kick and claw my way through the illusion of the life of a romance novelist.  Behind every well-penned line that can spiral a reader into her own kind of wonderland, any number of setbacks may have occurred for the author--rejection, revision, even a horrendous book cover.  I am realizing that I have to be willing to slide down the pile of disappointments to come with realistic expectations as I am just beginning this adventure, and I know that I have to turn around and climb back up again with a smile on my face because the journey requires an attitude of childlike determination and joy if it's going to be worth it, laughing all the way.

I welcome the new season in my life.

Happy New Year's Eve!