You Must Hold Hands and No Show Tunes

First, yes, it has been about a year. I recently went to a Children’s and Young Adult book conference to reboot my extreme lack of writing. I think it might even have worked. Only time will tell (ugh, the clichés begin already). At least it means another blog post. I’m going to be ambitious and try to do a month of fun days again as well (fingers crossed all). You know, and write—as much as I possibly can.

And now for the worst segue into my actual post ever…

I love to travel, but I hate spending money on vacation. If left to my own devices, I’m fairly certain I would talk myself out of any trip. Good thing I’m rarely left to my own devices.

Chris & I had a very DIY wedding 5 years ago. Not because we were trying to save money, but because that’s the way we both are. I wanted to remember every second of the day and every guest who shared the day with us. It was my day, and I’m biased, but I’m pretty sure that’s the best wedding I’ve been to. And every bride and groom should think this—it means we did something right. DIY weddings can be quite labor intensive. For some reason I thought this meant we shouldn’t have a honeymoon right away. I was very logical about it at the time, I’m sure. But Chris put his foot down. We were going away right after the wedding—and that was that. He told me in no uncertain terms he had plans of us going away every year on our anniversary. Yeah, I know, my lot is rough—every once in a while there’s this incredibly romantic side to my husband that always takes my breath away. 5 years later and so far, British Husband and I have accomplished some sort of trip each year around the third week of August.

It’s not easy. Every year I think of some reason we shouldn’t spend the money or the time away. And they’re good reasons too—I just lost my job, we just bought a house—totally legit reasons; and every year my husband looks at me and firmly puts his foot down. Oh, I’m not complaining, anymore than I complain about his desire to do all the housework or cook a good portion of the meals; I mostly just sit around stunned by my good fortune in landing this man. He comes with an accent, too!

Last year we headed to that happiest of happy places—Walt Disney World.

Is this just hyped up consumerism?  Hells no! Disney IS the happiest place on earth, why would I want to spend Anniversary 5 anywhere else? The title of this blog comes from the signs posted everywhere at Disney World, and our interpretation of their meaning. Truly, no one wants to hear either one of us sing show tunes.

To be fair and for full disclosure, I—girl who spent a number of my formative years working for Disney—may not be the best judge of Disney’s plot to take over the world, or lack thereof. They got to me young and my brain is thoroughly washed. Still, my form of Disney-itis is very minute; trust me. I’ve seen, and met, and am quite good friends with many who have a more acute case. They are reading this wondering what the hell my problem is; I hadn’t been to a theme park in 5 years after all—that’s far too long. 

So, in August, we went to Florida for a week of anniversary bliss. And here we are months later, and I’ve realized a few things about myself and my love affair with Walt Disney World­­. Somehow, for some reason, my rather large life moments have been plotted out and orchestrated right down the middle of Main Street USA, curving over to InnoVentions and winding their way down to the Tower of Terror.

Blog-Time Over Share!

The first time I entered the Magic Kingdom I was a senior in high school and on a band trip. No, that’s not exactly a life moment. It is just a fact—I’m not unique in this, as I know at least 789 other people who’ve had a similar experience (I’ve been keeping track of my mundane-ity for years now).

Already there’s a side note: There are two events in my life that clearly shaped who I am as a human being. Yes, sure, who I became as an adult; but somehow deeper than that: Two events that defined my very humanness.

One – being in my high school marching band. (Mundane fact #1)

The ages of 14–18 are pivotal in anyone’s life and having a very large group of my peers during that period, an organization with a purpose and lots of discipline – whacky rituals and more fun then most people get in their high school careers. SO. IMPORTANT.

Two – studying abroad in college. (Mundane fact #2)

Everyone should do this. I don’t care when, where, or for how long, but getting outside of your comfort zone and seeing the world is part of the human condition in my book. A necessary part of building morals and ethics and discovering what type of person you want to be, based on informed decisions and the knowledge that not everyone is just like you—and that’s OK.

Number one taught me how to be part of a community, good and bad parts; whilst number two taught me how to break down my egocentric world—get out there and notice other cultures and how their communities may differ from my own.

And now back to my first visit to WDW. It was the end of my senior year of high school and it was also my last band trip. My last time wearing a 7 LB wool uniform and marching in heat and humidity in the world’s most unforgiving, chaffing fabric. There’s a reason I write the books I do—a reason my protagonists tend to be 17-year-old females going through some sort of transition. It’s not just because it’s interesting and there’s lots of fodder there. No, I’m pretty sure it has something to do with this first trip to WDW. I did something really cliché on that trip. I fell in love for the first time (Mundane fact #3). Did I mention it was a transitional period in my life? My last band trip, my last couple months of high school, my first trip to WDW, the first time I fell in love, my first kiss with fireworks (Seriously, there were actual fireworks! Every girl should have that happen…I only know 20 people this has happened to, so I’m not counting first love’s first kiss with real fireworks as a mundane moment. Choose to disagree if you must). Oh, sure, I had boyfriends, and basement make-out sessions, and flirting, and kissing, and hand holding before—Um, I was a teenage girl at the time. The L-word had been bandied about as well—I was in serious like with a number of boys: some unrequited, some mutual, some forbidden; but that first love kind of smacks you between the eyes. Especially when you are a senior and he’s a freshman.

I’m not sure you lot remember your last year of high school; some of you haven’t reached it yet, but I have a very clear memory which has been manipulated and twisted about to make it into my big box mystery novel. The actual memory is me at the end of my junior year watching many of my friends graduating and just being done—so done with all of it. I wanted to be graduating too; I wanted to skip the transition into adulthood and just be there already. I spent that summer with friends who had graduated, got a job, my long-time boyfriend and I split, and I tried burying my head in the sand. But band practice in August and the start of my senior year in September loomed on the horizon; friends started leaving for college and I knew I was trapped in that stone building with an old president’s name for another year. I sucked it up and got on with it. And then I met a boy. A boy who made me laugh, made me think, made me argue about my own viewpoint when he clearly didn’t have the same ideas about anything—religion, politics, technological advancements, authors—you name it. It’s possibly the first time I found myself floundering in life looking for a lifeline. And I found one in Ben. It’s happened since then; I’ve already told you my theory on not choosing your friends—sometimes people do just show up in your life when you need them to (Mundane fact #4). By the WDW trip our friendship was at a tipping point. All of those other seniors with their raging teenage hormones and scary transitional lives sort of pushed me over the edge, and straight into Ben’s arms. Looking back as an adult, I get it. Everyone was going through the same crap in their own way and we were all too preoccupied with our own stuff to really get a handle on anyone else’s (Mundane fact #5).

Looking at this first WDW trip through my adult-filtered memories, I finally realize just how much a few short days in the happiest place on earth played a part—not in me becoming a writer—but, in what I choose to write about. Now you’re saying any other trip could have done that. Maybe you’re right; I’ve just said these experiences are not unique to the 17-year-old transitioning into adulthood. Surely location has very little to do with it. Then again, setting is an important part to any story; I think I have a case for WDW being just the right amount of surreal and fantastical to stick with me more than say the park down the street from my house, or the high school gymnasium.

My first trip to Walt Disney World: I fell in love and left feeling awesome and awful at the same time. I suddenly had a tragic love affair on my hands (Mundane fact #6 through #12); we were both in love, but our parents couldn’t possibly condone the relationship (to be fair, we never checked with our parents on this); and now we had to leave the most wonderful place on earth and return to reality. Which we did with tortured looks at each other across the bus and airplane; both surrounded by our own groups of not-understanding friends. (Another side note: Oh, the melodrama! I’m certain Shakespeare made Romeo & Juliet so young because teenagers make everything so very dire. It really wouldn’t work with two older leads. But, I digress.) I still have a little plush Figment—purchased for me—to commemorate the trip.

Horrified by all the things in my life that were changing, I back-pedaled and decided as much as I was done the year before was as much as I wasn’t ready to be done with high school after that trip. Of course, time moves in a forward motion for all of us—whether we’re transitioning or stagnant. (I’m going to stop counting the mundane moments in my life story at this point, you get it.) I graduated and went off to college. Chapter closed.

And almost exactly two years later I was back at WDW for my second trip—this time with my mom and a co-worker and her daughter. My stagnant self is currently amazed at just how fast things change when you are at a transitioning age. I see trip number two as an end of the really drastic change/transition into adulthood. I’d just finished my second year of college, I proclaimed my major and minor and had all my classes lined up, I was working a couple jobs to pay for school, I had different friends and was living with my future husband. Disney World was different too. No longer on a class trip, I could come and go as I pleased; and since I was working at the Disney Store, I got into the parks for free and treated them as my own playground. It was all new and different until I came across that little resting place in EPCOT; the place that marked the kiss with the fireworks. I feigned sore feet and sat there for a good 15 minutes, just remembering.

Ironically, I chose that moment, sitting there to decide I would definitely not go to WDW for my honeymoon. It had too many memories already. Alas, the happiest place on earth is for making memories. If only my life were a novel—this moment plays out with more foreshadowing then I’ve ever actually been able to write into a scene.

I went to WDW again, and again, and at least four more times after that. I went with friends, I went with relatives, I went with perfect strangers hauled from the Seattle airport when we couldn’t get standby flights to Hawaii, I went with Chris—we took my mom for her 50^th birthday and dragged others with us, I went with my best friend because she said she wouldn’t have any fun at a touristy, theme park and I had to prove her wrong (I did). I became a walking guide at work and helped people plan their trips; shared short-cuts and time-saving ideas gleaned from others. I got engaged (on a plane flying over the French Alps, not Disney World) and realized I wanted a small wedding so one of my London friends (since Chris couldn’t take time off and I was going to go by myself) and I spent five days looking at all the places you could actually get married in the parks—with the Munchkins in the Great Movie Ride possibly the strangest—and looking through pictures of friends’ weddings that actually took place in the parks. In the end, I got married in an actual park in MN, reserving WDW for our honeymoon. Didn’t see that one coming did you?

I’m one of those people who’s actually lost track of just how many times I’ve been to WDW. Soon I’ll join the “Figment People” I’ve met three times at EPCOT; I think they might live there. You’ll put me up there with the illustrated Disney man—he has so many Disney tattoos I’m not sure where he stops and his tattoos start.

My Constant Marriage

The most important thing I learned about my husband the first time we went to WDW is his attitude about the spinning teacups. Watch out! Vomit inducing spins and twirls will ensue if you get in a cup with this man. Yet, I still do. I later learned, when my sister-in-law shared her similar misadventures, that this is a quintessential Whurr brother trait. A theory recently proved when the last brother-in-law got married in April and honeymooned in WDW. This time my sister-in-law and I made sure to warn our newest sister-in-law what she was in for. True to form, Paul did not disappoint. Jillian sent a photo to my phone as they were getting on the whirling teacups and I knew she was officially part of the family: Trial by teacup and all.

And there is that life moment again. I fell in love for the first time at WDW, why not fall in love for the forever time there as well? I’m not sure I can actually tell you when or where I fell in love with my husband, but what if? Those teacups are crazy­—there’s no way around it—I’d have to love him to keep going on those things with him.

I mean I really don’t think you can possibly understand the extreme spinning on the teacups:

• Rockin’ Roller Coaster? My screams on the teacups are louder than any Aerosmith song you’ll hear here.
• Space Mountain? Child’s play in comparison. It’s dark in Space Mountain, but you have to close your eyes to keep them from popping out of your head on the teacups. 
• Splash Mountain? Sure, there’s a really big drop and lots of laughter. Still, not even close! At some point you’re spinning so fast on the teacups you can’t help but laugh. In fact, you can’t stop laughing; which is terrifying—because at some point you need to breathe! 

My first time on the teacups with Chris I thought, “This man is crazy! How do I get off of these things?” The second time was our honeymoon and although I knew what to expect, I knew I had to get back on. This third trip to WDW, and consequently third spin around the teacups, sealed the deal. He may bring me to terrifying experiences, but he will also bring me through them. Because honestly, as fast as he spins that little wheel, and as dizzy as I am when I get off¸ (no, seriously, this last time I overheard a castmember say she’s never seen them go that fast) he always keeps a hand on my back until I can stand upright alone and never spins fast enough for me to actually vomit.

I feel exhilarated but safe the entire time.

What more can you ask for in a marriage or in life?

A Difficult Conversation

No excuses. I haven’t been in the mood or frame of mind to blog at all recently. Obviously I’m getting around that obstacle and moving into a place where I need to vent through writing.

And here’s the thing:  Everyone has something to say; but writers also need to be heard. It’s a compelling force of nature—the words remain inside my brain for only so long before they are propelled out through my finger tips (and sometimes tears) onto this blank canvas. So here are my words, my truths, my own self splashed across the page.

Hard Truths

There are things that no one talks about. At least not loudly—and I’m not sure why. Yes, absolutely personal.  And yes, possibly that’s why the talking stops. But still, so many people go through the same experiences and people aren’t saying a thing. So here it is: In the past four months I’ve had two miscarriages. I guess that means we’ve moved onto deciding to have kids; but then again, neither pregnancy was planned at all. I’m not sure we’re going to try again either.

And here’s the other thing:  At least half the women in the world have gone through it; so why aren’t we talking? It is a very lonely experience; and I don’t get that. Because there is a difference between lonely and personal, but I feel society has made it a taboo subject. That makes me angry.

I’m right there with you all; I’ve not talked about it a whole lot. And when I do talk about it, it tends to be with my male friends and family members. That, I really don’t get. This is a decidedly female only affliction, but I’ve had the hardest time getting my voice to sound when I’m talking to a female friend about it. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve seriously contemplated how very ‘un-feminist’ I am. Where’s my sister solidarity? I mean we are the only gender of our species that can go through this, right?

Well, no. In fact my husband would disagree with that comment. We may be the only gender to feel the pain of our uterus shrinking back to normal size and hormone levels dropping suddenly and drastically. We may be the only ones to feel the indignity of the tiny little operating table, the arm and leg straps, and waking up to an emptiness that goes beyond anything we’ve ever felt. But we aren’t the only gender to go through the loss. And maybe it’s because I’ve always had more male friends than female ones, but for me, the men are much more willing to talk about it. And not just the, “I’ve been there” speech I’ve received from most women I talk to about miscarriage.

No, my male friends says things like,

“We went through that, and it was rough but then I realized the wonderful, great kids we do have wouldn’t be here if we’d stayed pregnant before.”

Or, “Keep trying, you’re going to be great parents because you’re great people.”

Or, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why it keeps happening but you’re so strong and amazing.”

Yes, have I mentioned:  I have great friends.

I’m quite positive I wouldn’t—and won’t, in the future—be any better. If I have to say anything, I’m sure I’ll come up with the, “I’ve been there” speech too. Much like any loss, I get tongue-tied and awkward and only ever think: “THAT BLOWS!” Well, because it really, really does.

My Own Self

Possibly the greatest thing about being in the midst of my 30s is the fact that I know exactly who I am. I’m not angsty or searching to become someone; I’m comfortable in my own skin. I’m not saying this makes miscarriage easy or reactions different; but I’m not still wondering what it would be like to have kids or not have kids. I’m also old enough to realize I won’t completely get it until I’m holding my own child. More like I’m OK if I don’t ever completely get it. Yes, my relationship with my husband will be different if we have kids then it would be if we don’t; but I’m fine with that knowledge too. Both relationships will be strong and caring and that’s all I’ve ever wanted from a life partner situation.

Who am I? Where does self discovery lead?

Mostly, I’m just me; a strong woman who cries a little more than she’d like to—one who has a passion for writing, life and friendship. I’m a person who is more willing to work a part-time job-hobby I’m not totally invested in so I have time to enjoy my life, write what I want to, and cherry pick freelance projects I’m interested in.

Although I don’t always sound like it—I am a feminist. Maybe just not in the strictest sense of the word; I want women to feel good about themselves. I want women to be empowered. If that’s Bratz dolls, make-up and Twilight, so be it. That’s not who I am; I’m more yoga, jewelry and Harry Potter. But if I’m thrilled a little boy wants to express himself by wearing a princess costume, then I’m thrilled when a little girl does the same thing.

Eleanor Roosevelt had it right, “No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.”

I write YA novels with female protagonists because I want every girl out there to know she is important, that she has self worth. In my world Jane Eyre, Anne Shirley, Buffy Summers and Hermione Granger are all worthy role models.

I do have more male friends than female ones. I do like a good cozy mystery where sometimes the guy gets the girl. I tend to like more male tennis players than female tennis players; I think their matches are more exciting to watch. I really enjoy Doctor Who. And for some reason all of these facts were making me re-think my ideas on feminism. Throw in my reactions to miscarriage and I’ve had to sit down and re-evaluate my character. I’ve discovered my own worst enemy is my inner-voice disagreeing with the simple facts laid before it. But, wow; that’s dumb.

Idiosyncrasies Abound. But Hey, That’s Just Me.

When you go through something like miscarriage, there’s always a shock factor. I don’t mean you’re shocked that bad things can happen to you; I mean you are shocked by your reaction to some part of the experience. Mind-blowing, soul-changing, unexplainable shock. I think we’ve established my strong support system of friends and family. So please prepare yourself for the shock I got when returning to the part-time job-hobby after miscarriage number 1. I spent two days at home dealing with it. I talked to friends and discussed everything with Chris, and although I was sad, it was mostly just a very surreal experience. I was barely pregnant. I took a test one day and then a few days later I started bleeding. It was quite clear what was going on—a conversation with my doctor confirmed my fears. It might hit harder for women who are actively trying to conceive; those who go through the ovulation kits and timed intercourse. In that case, a positive pregnancy test and then obviously not a pregnancy would send me over the edge. But we weren’t trying. And like I said, the experience was mostly surreal. In fact, if I didn’t take a test, I wouldn’t know I was pregnant at all—just a little late. I was in a good place when I returned to work.

No.

In fact, I was a crazy basket case who almost ran out the door screaming. This was a strange place to be: at work in tears with crazy, roller-coaster hormones flat lining quickly and suddenly. No one at work knew, for obvious reasons. My options were very few. I ran into the operations manager’s office and slammed the door. The man was brilliant. I mean, honestly, my respect for the guy and his position soared. I’ve worked in operations; I get the babysitting and just the general go-to-ness of the job. But now I’m beginning to understand why they get paid so much.

My reaction at the part-time job-hobby was, by far, the most shocking part of this entire experience. I don’t think about the job-hobby much; it’s the place I go to get insurance, to pay my mortgage, to buy food and clothes so that I can have a career as a writer. It was the littlest of all the evils and yes, most writers have a part time job. Successful writers who publish still need them. And mine pays a decent salary and comes with a pension and 401K besides the health benefits. It’s why I’m still there. It’s also why I was SO very shocked. This place I go to in the morning 4 or 5 days a week—this place I don’t think on, with people I don’t think on—was the very place I got the support and comfort I needed on a meltdown day that was unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced.

And then I got home and realized, yet again, that my support system appears to be made up mostly of men…I’ve been living a four month long emotional, physical and logical roller-coaster ride.  

Easy Truths

I’m just about written out now. There’s probably a lot more to say, but I no longer need to say it. I am humbled by the entire experience. I’m humbled by my reactions, by my own journey through these rather dark days, and mostly by the support out there once we all do start talking about it. I thank every single person—from the ultrasound tech who burst into tears when there was clearly no heartbeat to my mom, who had 4 or 5 miscarriages of her own and told me how much I needed to share the experience with others. Mostly I’m humbled by all of you who did share your own stories—man, woman or child—“I’ve been there” turns out to be a comforting conversation starter.

Blind Faith Fandom Payoff

I’ve finally gotten around to posting this video from YouTube as a follow up to my Learning to Love Disappointment post from February 2011.  The final moments of the US Open Men’s Final – known by me as the day our lad did indeed get there – as seen through the eyes of a pub full of Scots.  Yes, it did make me cry and I did watch it more than once.  Brilliant, amazing and overall one of the most rewarding things I’ve ever seen…I think I mean the match; but I most likely mean this video too.

And in case you want to sing along (Of course I did!):

O Flower of Scotland,
When will we see
Your like again,
That fought and died for,
Your wee bit Hill and Glen,
And stood against him, (‘gainst who?)
Proud Edward's Army, (bastards)
And sent him homeward,
Tae think again.

Those days are past now,
And in the past
they must remain,
But we can still rise now,
And be the nation again,
That stood against him, (‘gainst who?)
Proud Edward's Army,
And sent him homeward,
Tae think again.

Pure dead brilliant!

Screwing my Courage to the Sticking Post

After a year of not blogging I’m going to enter again with a clichéd song quote. But it’s so perfect for the all-too-personal post that follows and it’s helped me through at least half of the past year.

I’m trying to tell you something about my life.
Maybe give me insight between black and white.
And the best thing you’ve ever done for me,
Is to help me take my life less seriously.
It’s only life after all.

Well darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable,
And lightness has a call that’s hard to hear.
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket.
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it.
I’m crawling on your shores.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains.
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains.
There’s more than one answer to these questions pointing me in a crooked line. And the less I seek my source for some definitive; closer I am to fine.
                                                                              -Indigo Girls, "Close to Fine"

Simply put, a year is a particular amount of time. Some years speed by and some are excruciatingly slow. Like everyone who has to age; years seem to go rapidly the more of them you have under your belt. But this year was really quite different for me. I learned some stuff – I actually thought I might be too old to do that now. As you may recall from previous blog posts, long ago and far away, I’ve been in limbo for quite some time. Not sure of my place in the world, knowing it’s not my current location but struggling through nonetheless. When I think about a sane, steady place in my life; a time and location that made sense with who I am, I repeatedly end up at the office/copywriting gig. Quite honestly, I don’t know why this is. This past year, I discovered I lost myself in that job. I think the office space does something to the time and space continuum; there are big chunks of that time missing, and I don’t know where they went. It’s kind of like never going home again. Copywriting was never going to be my career, but I’m pretty sure it would have been without my even noticing had it not been for the slap in the face that is economic strife and workforce reductions.

But tell me why, over the next few years, I kept applying for office jobs? Apparently the answer is money. Who knew I was that person? Writing rarely pays the bills so I keep searching for something I like just as much, something that will pay the bills while I write. But I don’t like anything as much (If I did, why would I want to write?) and my damn work ethic makes it impossible to take any job half-assed. Dammit. Last September I picked up a freelance office fun-time gig. Which means, over the past year I’ve been working 50 – 60 hours a week between the freelancing and the part-time job hobby, just trying to be an active member of society; to be worth something. I’m not sure when this gigantic chip on my shoulder occurred, but here it sits. And yay, me, I can earn money and still work in an office setting. But there’s no time to write. And then I’m sad and then I don’t want to write when writing makes me happy. Oh, vicious circle of inactivity. Oh, slippery slope of depression and overwhelming anxiety. Dammit, again.

I was patiently trying to work through this *stuff* when I started having health issues. I’ve been anemic off and on since high school. As anemia tends to hit women between 20 & 50 who have heavy menstrual cycles, this isn’t exactly earth shattering news, but my anemia and dysfunctional bleeding landed me in the hospital with units of donor blood fed into my arms through IV’s & emergency surgery. Oh, I’m just fine. Promise. I think I was more unnerved from the hospital experience as I’ve never been a patient in one before. And considering what other people go through on a daily basis, I have no right to even be concerned or worried about my diagnosis. Of course that means I was terrified by my pathology results. Honestly, I think I put on a good face but I probably failed miserably and my friends & loved ones all know just how scared I’ve been for the last 8 months. I have something called Endometrial Intraepithelial Neoplasia or Hyperplasia; dummied down to my lexicon – there are precancerous cells growing in my uterus lining.

On the terrifying side:
-Precancer has the word CANCER in it.
-Most women with this issue have a hysterectomy (but most women are over 65) so the precancerous cells don’t have a chance to mutate into cancerous cells.
-Precancer has the word CANCER in it.
-Repeat 1 and 3, 10 more times!

On the, “I’m fine. Promise.” side:
-I went on a heavy dose of hormones for three months & have now had two biopsies since the diagnosis. So far, I’m good with no more bad cells growing and no evidence of any bad cells at all.
-I will continue to have biopsies every 3 months as long as I want to keep my uterus.
-I will be seeing an Oncologist on a regular basis who knows what to look for.
-Precancer doesn’t mean you’ll ever get the disease; it means everyone keeps checking on things (and insurance suddenly pays for those re-checks) because you are predisposed to cancer.

Ironically, just before I was diagnosed, Chris and I were really starting to talk about the pros and cons of having children; the likelihood of loosing my uterus before menopause sort of pushed the timeline forward. Alas, we’re still not entirely sure we’re the parenting type of people; but, we are willing to be slightly more proactive about figuring that out and attempting the family idea. Not sure what it says about us; to confront the imminent demise of childbearing organs and still not figure out if we do, indeed, want children? I think our fear might be wrapped tightly around us both at this point. Please note: these are topics I don’t discuss with my friends and family even, but I think about them, which means I write about them too.

These are my serious, fear-cocooning issues of the past year – well, some are fundamentally part of me and have been around since I’ve been around. And that’s where the screwing my courage to the sticking post and spanking my inner moppet come into play. I am absolutely trying to stop being so cautious with my life. You know, maybe start living it; which means growing up a little when it comes to house buying (something else we did this year!), baby making, novel publishing, and so forth.

Fear is not supposed to be my safe place. It is no place to live. I’m going to sound super cliché here: Do what you love most in the world; that thing you can’t stop doing no matter how crazy it makes you. I DO have things to say, I want other people to hear my voice and I’m just really sick and tired of being afraid.

That’s me reentrance into the blogosphere – this entirely too personal offering. Now we start rebuilding the fun times, book scrutinizing, and movie analyzing blogs. Can I just add here that I am so glad I did the month of fun days last August because my world kind of imploded directly after that and I’m just now sousing out the aftermath. That month of blogging sustained me through some of the darker moments in October, November, December, January and February. More fun blogs coming up! Why? Because I always feel better when I write and sharing those thoughts, ideas and musings is the good kind of fear I choose to wrap myself up in.

A Month of Fundays: Day 30 – Attend a State Fair, County Fair or Renaissance Festival

Woo Hoo! It’s State Fair time. I see the MN State Fair as the great equalizer. Suddenly everyone from that kid who flips burgers at McDonalds to your doctor goes to the fair. It’s when we all hop on public transportation (seriously, if you still drive and try to park, you’re crazier than I am), all eat copious amounts of ridiculous food on a stick, enjoy sculptures made of butter like they were sculpted by Michelangelo, and prize farmers and horticulturists above all other occupations. It IS "the great Minnesota get together".

Overcrowded Fun Day
I enjoyed watching people more than anything else at the fair today. I felt like I was sharing my funday activity with 100,000 Minnesotans (I think that’s the average daily attendance at the fair). To my friends who work at the fair: I saw none of you today, where were you?! 100,000 people and I didn’t see a single person I knew. Actually, it didn’t seem too crowded; possibly because it was Steely Dan night at the Grandstand. The first time I took Chris to the fair I thought he was going to run screaming, but he enjoyed it a good deal and has since submitted pieces of his own art for exhibition in the Fine Arts building. We don’t go every year – only about once every 5 years because I think you can definitely have too much of a good time when it comes to the fair. But the fair still screams MN to me. I bet this opinion exists at other state fairs too.

In fact, here’s Hank Green (Yes, another vlogbrothers video) describing this year’s Western Montana Fair:



See, the great equalizer!

The Path to Fun

For me there is only one way to get through the fair. It is a particular path that includes the French Fry Stand, the Kare11 Barn, the Lumberjacks, the Fine Arts Building, Sweet Martha’s Cookies, the Grandstand, Fried Green Peppers, and the Skyride. Once this is over – anything else is up for grabs. Oh, and the Giant Slide – Yes, the Giant Slide! Do you really need to do anything but go down the slide? Come on, a burlap sack is a magic carpet slide rider! Oh, you crazy place of fun and overindulgence. If you don’t go home with too much sun, too much food and not enough liquids then you obviously haven’t done the fair justice.

Random Thought That’s Only Kind of Fair Related
I use YouTube every day to illustrate my point and for highlighting songs. I’ve embedded more than enough vlogbrother videos in these blog posts. In fact, how many of you Hank & John followers didn’t know they vlogged before I told you? If I can promote people I don’t know on this forum, why to I feel awkward promoting people I do know? That’s stupid.

In other words: I left you with a vlogbrother vlog up there to illustrate the state fair point – when I know there’s another video that does it better. And also – inserting promotional plug here – you should follow chriscopeful on YouTube. Chris & Jenn usually do daily vlog posts from Wales, but Chris recently visited friends and family in MN and – of course – went to the fair:



See. MN State Fair funtimes!

Picture: Your favorite fair ride or exhibit. The most crazily dressed, over the top Renaissance person you can find. There is so much fodder for pictures at any fair – it’s like “Peoples of Wal-Mart” but somehow worse.

Song: Since the MN State Fair marks the end of those endless summer nights each year, I’m going with Richard Marx’s “Endless Summer Nights”. Ah, 1988 – the middle of the mullet craze. Ah, MN State Fair 2011 – the middle of the mullet craze. Also, here is Gaelic Storm’s “The Night I Punched Russell Crowe” because the MN State Fair is the first place I heard Gaelic Storm and this song reminds me of the entire over indulging fair experience. Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, Oy, Oy, Oy!

Tomorrow: Write a Short Story, Song or Poem on Something You See Outside Right Now

A Month of Fundays: Day 29 – Go Someplace in Your Town/City You’ve Never Been Before

This was a funday activity originally suggested by my friend Matt. I instantly thought it was a good idea, but since I’ve lived in the same town for most of my life I also thought it might not work for me.

I’ve been everywhere in Bloomington, MN, haven’t I?
We moved to Bloomington at the end of my first grade year of elementary school; I’m guessing May of 1982. I’ve lived in five different locations in Bloomington since then – but always the same city. To be fair, this town isn’t small. It fights with Duluth on a regular basis for bragging rights at the third largest city in MN (after Minneapolis and St. Paul – the Twin Cities) and usually wins (says the girl from Bloomington). It also has a large land area and encompasses MN landmarks like The Mall of America and the Minneapolis / St Paul International Airport (MSP) as well as the only IKEA in the state – all locations I’ve been to more times than I can count.

Maybe I haven’t been to EVERY place; there are a lot of places to go here. I made a list and came up with a number of local businesses I haven’t been too because they are new and quickly planned to go to one of these. I think this might be cheating. It’s not really surprising that I haven’t been to Poor Richard’s Commonhouse or Cowboy Jack’s because they’ve both only been open a year or less. And then I realized I have been to both – at least in the buildings, they were just known as Major’s (Ah, crappy hour: Lots of memories there.) and Steak & Ale then.

I thought about some older locations and pondered the living in the same place for nearly thirty years dilemma one more time. I think I need to move. But then Stacy and Amy and their families are both back in Bloomington now and I can walk to the part-time job-hobby and I like it – Chris and I are quite happy here. Maybe I’ll stay for a little longer then...

In the end I did cheat, but only a little. I went to two places in Bloomington. One I’ve never been to before and the other I’ve been too, but not for at least 25 years.

Where did we go today?

Scoops Ice Cream & More
This place is almost as much a Bloomington icon as the Mall of America and it’s only been open since 1994 – the year I graduated from high school. Granted the Mall of America has only been open since 1992, but who’s counting. What in the world did we do in Bloomington before MOA and Scoops? Wow, I would hate to think that these two institutions put us on the map…that probably didn’t happen until IKEA in 2004. Regardless, ice cream was the chosen venue today.

Scoops is small but homey: A sort of ma & pop location with a candy store type display on one wall and two counters of ice cream from local creameries to choose from. They have a wall (Well, I counted three walls.) of signed photos from celebrities – local and international stars of sports, acting, music and politics all made out to ‘Scoops’ with lots of love and ice cream. I’m guessing about 10 people standing fit into the store front, but there are four tables nonetheless: two more table out in the hallway and two more Adirondack-type chairs outside and across the boulevard with ‘Scoops’ written on them. Chris and I both had waffle cones – I had “Pirates Booty” and Chris had “Chocolate Turtle Cheesecake” – and yes, the ice cream was scrumptious. IT’S ICE CREAM!

What astounded me was how similar the entire experience was to the going-for-ice-cream-funday in Duluth. That Malt Shop – the one in Duluth, a good two hour drive from Scoops – which is possibly 2 miles from my house, give or take a bit. I’ve been to that Malt Shop in Duluth at least 12 times in my life. Why do we constantly look outside of our own home-sphere to find these experiences? Maybe we don’t, maybe it’s just me. I just said I’ve lived in the same place for almost 30 years – but if you add up all of the time I spend traveling, including studying and living in London, you could easily shave two years off of that total – maybe more. Maybe all of you have been everywhere in your towns; in which case this is a ridiculous blog post and you should stop reading it. This IS a ridiculous blog post because I’m wondering these big, huge things after going to get ice cream at a place down the street I’ve never been to before – but there it is.

Also, I really don’t think I’m alone in this. We all get trapped in our paths and routines. I’m all about breaking the routine frequently. You see and experience so much more when you look up every once in a while. I’m nearing the end of this month of fundays which has been a self discovery journey as much as a writing/blogging journey and a having fun journey. In the end I had to come away with something, didn’t I? Otherwise why are you all reading this?

Normandale College’s Japanese Garden

With ice cream in hand Chris and I drove over to Normandale Community College and walked around the Japanese Garden. Yes, of course I’ve been to the Japanese Garden. It’s like 6 blocks from my house. I mean that would be crazy not to go in a place I drive, walk, bike or bus past at least twice everyday. Actually, I haven’t been since like 1984 and Chris – who went to college at Normandale when he moved to this country because he was still too young to go anywhere else – hasn’t been since he graduated in 1995 (The year we started living together). Oh, those Japanese Gardens.

The garden was dedicated in 1976 – so no newness there. My opinion of the garden: Lovely, but much smaller than it seemed when I was six-years-old. There’s huge koi and Japanese maple and mugo pine – some of my favorite things. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Do I have blinders on! A garden and an ice cream shop – neither is a stretch for my lifestyle or anything. I spend many a day writing in, walking around or listening to an outdoor concert in gardens. I could – and would – eat ice cream everyday if it had the same calorie intake as tea. I mean yummy things and sunshiny nature places are all I’ve been blogging about this entire month; and yet here are two places literally in my backyard, both going unnoticed by me.

It does sound like my day was more aggravating than fun, but I promise it was a good day with new experiences in it. Try it. No, really. I would like other people to have as much as fun as I did today while also being annoyed with themselves and their own short sidedness. Please…

Picture: Where did you go today? A picture of yourself at the place you’ve never been before.

Song: R.E.M’s “Stand” and Mary Chapin Carpenter’s (because, really when is there not an MCC song for one of my blog posts) “I am a Town”.

Tomorrow: Attend a State Fair, County Fair or Renaissance Festival

A Month of Fundays: Day 28 – Wander around a Museum

I realize some people think they are boring, but I’ve always loved a good museum. Art, history, science, tin, Barbie, MoMA…whatever – museums are high up on my list of fun things. Sometimes randomness is fun and it’s amazing what people collect.

Whilst traveling, Chris and I have made a habit of going to museums. I’m not exactly sure when this started – maybe we always have; he is an artist after all. I think my favorite trip was Chicago a couple years ago when we ended up at 5 different museums and spent a good two hours in The Thorne Miniature Room exhibit. Who knew how fun tiny things could be?

Today we went to the Science Museum of Minnesota to see the King Tut exhibit before it ends. The Science Museum was a favorite school field trip when I was little. There’s lots of hands-on for children and I’ve always enjoyed their collection of old-school medical/quackery devices. I think the Science Museum is where I discovered how gullible people can be. And they have musical stairs – musical stairs are cool!

I honestly don’t know if I liked the Tut exhibit or not. I’m guessing most of the antiquities are replicas because they weren’t in cases and I didn’t see a lot of temperature and humidity gauges; but nothing said it was a replica in print anywhere in the plague copy. Well, except for Tutankhamen – he was a replica. On the other hand, the cartouches were cool and the size and amount of stuff was impressive. Not over-stimulating, I’ll-never-be-able-to-see-it-all like the Egyptian collection at The British Museum, which I think was the last museum I was at this summer. Today was still enjoyable and fun.

My favorite part of museum wandering is the scope of imagination just sitting there in a palpable state waiting to be discovered. I started bringing a notebook to write down story ideas because I’m always inspired by something on exhibit. Today’s story idea came from a video about finding King Tut’s sarcophagus. Apparently a local, unnamed water boy helping out at the dig was the first person to come across the steps leading down and into the burial site. I think a mid-grade or picture book version from the boy’s perspective would be good. Naming the Water Boy: See how I already have a title and everything – by ‘everything’ I mean all but the actual writing, plot or characterization.

Museums: Educational, inspirational but mostly FUN.

Picture: The exhibit you are looking at or museum you decided to go to. What’s your favorite item on display?

Song: Barnaked Ladies’ “If I had a Million Dollars” if only for the art comments and a real green dress is cruel. Also Indigo Girls’ “Galileo”, a man who seems very museum-y to me...OK, this song also reminds me of all the artists, musicians and scientists who try to enlighten out human existence through their genius. And those things all end up in museums.

Tomorrow: Go Someplace in Your Town/City You’ve Never Been Before

A Month of Fundays: Day 27 – Garden Party or Barbeque

I had visions of making this the last blog post for my fundays and filling it with pictures of a great big garden party in my backyard with lots of homemade Mexican food a la Rick Bayless; including a river of Sangria and a mountain of fresh salsa. All of my friends would be gathered around and we’d talk for hours – but honestly, that was my wedding and this is normal, every day life. Oh, and we had Italian at the wedding.

Then I wrote this post and realized it was the same as the dinner party and the hanging out with friends and also, possibly I have a social eating problem – my really fun, relaxing times tend to deal with food. Because when I’m at home by myself I have things like tea with toast and grapes with cheese as a meal. I deleted that post and will try again.

No fancy garden party – tonight we did a Matt & Mara dinner night – but with BBQ! Actually, that’s not unheard of because Matt makes the best hamburgers on the grill and we ask for them repeatedly. There was quite a crew tonight – Matt & Mara with their baby Xander, and also Chris & I and my mom, and then both Shane and Amy made it as well. Full house of fun times – especially when you toss in the two Labradors – Kayleigh and Riley.

There IS something about eating outside – it makes the food taste better or something. Plus the bunnies and squirrels become much more interested in you when there’s food around. But really, in the end my fun day activity revolves around boring you with how lucky I am some days. I complain about money, and the part-time job-hobby, and the lack of being published and the economy and politics and my country and the world and SO MANY things. I complain a lot, trust me. And then for 31 days I decide to do something fun – not expensive or really that out of the ordinary for me – and discover that I am one lucky girl when I DO stop and think about it. What exactly am I complaining about? Today I got to spend the evening chatting, eating, looking at baby pictures, petting cuddly dogs and playing with a baby and all while spending time with some of my favorite people in the entire world - people whom genuinely care about me. Before I wrote it down I never realized how many of those people I’ve included in my day to day life. SO LUCKY!

The BBQ was fun – a garden party would be cool too – but mostly, tonight, I’m just happy to be me and spend time with those people embracing everything fun I’ve done this month. I’m even lucky to be old, yo – because it takes a while to collect those people into your life and even longer to enjoy having them there.

Picture: What are you serving at the garden party/BBQ? How are you decorating? What music are you playing – yes, that’s not a picture; it’s a question though…feel free to answer.

Song: I’m obvious again: Going with Ricky Nelson’s “Garden Party”; and also leaving you with Nelson’s version – which is more like a memorial for their dad, but still quite good. I think I might have underrated Nelson.

Tomorrow: Wander around a Museum

PS – I know the month is over, but I’m still a few days behind so you’ll get blog posts musing for the next few days to finish up. I did the things, I might as well write about them!

A Month of Fundays: Day 26 – Boating, Tubing, Paddle Boating, Kayaking, Canoeing, or a Water Sport

Yes, Minnesota is a land-locked state somewhere near the middle and top of the country; and yet, we are “The Land of 10,000 Lakes”, as I’ve mentioned before. So for a place without any seashore, we certainly have a lot of shoreline. All sorts of activities in and around the lakes during the summer are a must for fun – in fact, there are too many to count. There must be something fun for everyone to do today.

That being said: I spent 6 years on my high school synchronized swim team and 1 year student coaching the thing – I know how to swim; and I grew up fishing with my grandpa off of his pontoon attached to the house’s dock; yet I still think canoes and kayaks are too tippy and I’m not a water skier at all. I’m way too klutzy. This leaves me with paddle boating or tubing down the Apple River. I can’t think of a better summertime experience then lazing down a river with a book, some lemonade and nothing but time. The Apple River is a little too crowded and … lover’s lane for my taste, though. Yes, I am old.

Leaving me with the funday activity of paddle boating. No fast speedboats here with the wind in my hair and the music from the boat next to me thrumming through my veins. Nope, lackadaisical is my modus operandi this month and the paddle boat wins hands down.

Picture something like this:


Sorry, once the Disney is uncorked, there’s no telling what may appear on the blog.

Yay, fun with the paddle boats! Again, I couldn’t stop smiling…and laughing. I discovered I’m not very good at steering a paddle boat – but it’s not like I’m going to hit someone, right? Well, possibly the birds around the fountain thing in the middle of Centennial Lakes. And I was worried about the old men with their radio controlled sail boats – they looked expensive and I didn’t want to break one (an old man or a boat). But once you get over the fear of paddle boat hit and run, the happy times are bountiful. Embrace your inner geekiness – I’m sure I looked utterly ridiculous out there. It was AWESOME!

We topped off the paddle boat excursion with a Jamba Juice and a round of mini-golf so not a bad day at all, at all.

If you live near water and you haven’t been out on it this summer, then go, play. Have fun. What are you waiting for?

Picture: So many choices. Make sure your picture includes water.

Song: This was hard today. I ended up with Enya’s “Orinoco Flow” and The Beach Boys’ “Catch a Wave”.

Tomorrow: Garden Party or Barbeque

A Month of Fundays: Day 25 – Fly a Kite

The last day at the corporate office job TM in 2009 was peculiar. I was the last one in my department to leave that day as I was trying to get everything sorted out and ready to move on for the takeover company (Yes, I blame my mother for instilling me with this work ethic). Maybe my day was peculiar because I didn’t take the lay-off like most people do. I was kind of relieved to be done with the stress and office hours and take-home work.

By the time I reached my house that night I was a mixed bag of emotions. I had a goodbye happy hour the next night for separation and closure, but that first night I felt a little un-tethered. And yes, no matter how many people are sad to see you go; no matter how many emails, cards and phone messages you get wishing you luck in the future; no matter how much you know it is not your own work performance – it is hard not to feel at least a little rejected. So I was the last one to leave the office that day and my husband had to work that night; I knew I’d have four or five hours to think about my rejection once I got home.

I should really know Chris better than that by now – two years later and I finally do. There were balloons waiting for me when I got home and a card. This is something I would maybe think about doing – not totally surprising or out of the ordinary. The extraordinary: Beside the balloons and card was a basket of stuff.

The stuff in the basket:
- A movie, a puzzle book and a paperback to be lazy with.
- A bag of m&ms and a four pack of Woodpecker cider in case I wanted to indulge in food and drink.
- Some scratch off lottery tickets and a Power Ball for my windfall (I won $5)
- A blank journal, a pen and a jump drive to pursue my writing.
- Finally, there was a cheap, tiny kite with a picture of Snow White on it and a 20 ft tail made of red cellophane.

I know, right?! He’s mine; you can’t have him.

I remember instantly taking a shower and changing into yoga pants and a tank top and going out on our deck to test out the kite. It was kind of like the official end: Washing off the corporate job, taking off the uniform and becoming me – not some girl who writes copy in an office. You can define me as a writer, but I never really wanted to be a writer of copy. I’m sure the kite flying was somehow symbolic of my soul taking flight or something obnoxious but meaningful like that. I just thought it was great fun! I can’t remember the last time I went kite flying. It was brilliant.

It’s hard, getting that kite up in the air. Inevitably I will run it into the only tree for miles or get the tail all twisted up in itself. This diminutive kite was a little simpler to get up in the air – although I’m surprised it didn’t rip apart on the first go. It was a lot too windy out that May day to fly such a tiny thing, but it put a smile on my face quicker than anything else would have. And that’s the thing – as hard as it is to get into the air, once it is up there soaring through the clouds – for a short span of time, the weight of the world is lifted right off your shoulders.

That little kite from Chris’ basket has made a few trips into the air since then, and not just by me. I mail, give or pass that kite out to people when they loose their jobs and if it comes back to me, I send it out again. Only I would create a loosing-your-job tradition, but putting a smile on a friend’s face is totally worth it!

Say it with me now: Let’s go fly a kite.

Picture: The kite you are flying or where you are flying said kite.

Song: Yes, I am that obvious. Come on, how could I not. “Let’s Go Fly a Kite” from Mary Poppins. Sorry, you just can’t take the Disney out of this girl.

Tomorrow: Boating, Tubing, Paddle Boating, Kayaking, Canoeing, or a Water Sport.

A Month of Fundays: Day 24 – Re-watch a Favorite Movie from Your Childhood

Re-watching a childhood movie is fun if you are a writer of YA and mid-grade stuff and your husband is a computer animator who produces TV commercials. It’s probably fun for everyone else too, so you should try it. Movies have always been the great equalizer for Chris and me. Plot is important in both of our day jobs and therefore, movies fill the gap between painting a picture with words and painting a picture with a computer program…or paint…or lighting, scene and set design. He wins again, doesn’t he? I have words!

I had a tough decision today: Annie or The Goonies. The look Chris shot me when I showed him the case for Annie made me put it back in the movie cupboard and pop The Goonies into the blue-ray. But not before I sang my rendition of “It’s a Hard-Knock Life”. It’s been stuck in my head for three hours now, but since I just watched that other movie; the song in my head has become a mash-up of “It’s a Hard-Knock Life” and Cyndi Lauper’s “Good Enough”. It’s awesome (insert a bucket full of sarcasm here).

Let the fun begin. Who doesn’t like The Goonies? I mean, The Truffle-Shuffle transcends all race, creed and religion.

Questions to Ponder While Watching Your Movie:
Does the movie hold up?
Do you like it as an adult?
What the hell were they wearing?
Who decided that was a good hair style?
Oh wow, is that _________________ (Joey “Pants” Pantoliano/Bill Paxton/Bill Pullman/JT Walsh. One of these four men is in every movie ever made. I checked.)?
What makes the movie hold up?
What do you like/dislike about the dialogue? OK, maybe that is just a me question; I hate writing dialogue so I tend to pick apart dialogue I really like. This may be why I can quote my favorite movies verbatim.

I feel like I just assigned you homework. Don’t answer or think about any of those questions. Just sit down and watch/share a favorite childhood movie today.

I DID answer the questions and many more while watching The Goonies today. Sure, some of it was nostalgic. Like, I’m pretty sure I decided to take Spanish in school because Mouth could speak it and Mouth was cool. Yes, Sean Astin was my first celebrity crush – followed quickly (and still currently) by John Cusack. But also, I noticed more YA language and themes then I did as a kid – go figure. The Goonies is one of those family movies adults won’t be bored with. More importantly, it doesn’t talk down to kids – SO MANY movies and books do that now. It’s like we think the younger generations coming up will be stupider than their predecessors; self-fulfilling prophecy I don’t plan to partake in as a writer, or person. Kids are smart if you let them be dammit.

Moving away from the rant – I really liked today. It wasn’t as nostalgic as I thought it might be. I feel a little bit like I cheated with my funday activity because it made me think about and work on my own writing. Cross-checking with the movie when it came to the group self-discovery concept and young/teenage boy dialogue (which is quite possibly the worst, most stunted dialogue I’ve ever had the pleasure to write. Thank you goon squad for showing me my boy characters don’t have to be obsessed with sports or cookie-cutter like in their emotions to have witty dialogue.

Much like bow-ties, pirates and treasure maps are always going to be cool! The Goonies remains one of my childhood favorites on the re-watch, and also a fun way to spend a lazy afternoon with the British man.

Picture: Um, how about you just tell me what your favorite childhood movie is.

Song: They're both still in my head..."It's a Hard-Knock Life" from Annie and "Goonies 'R' Good Enough" from The Goonies. Although, Annie also has "Let's Go to the Movies" which is fairly spot on for this blog post.



Tomorrow: Fly a Kite