Little voice

I was sitting there minding my own business when I had that little nudge that I was forgetting something. You know that little voice in the back of your head that says, huh. Don’t you have something really important due soon?

The conversation went something like this:

“What’s due and how soon?”

“I dunno. pretty soon?” That voice, let’s call it Fred, said.

“Can you be more specific?”

“Nawww. But it’s soon. And you labeled it important.” Fred added helpfully as if reminding me I had thought it was important would help me remember.

Shit, it’s not my husbands birthday again? Didn’t he just have one? Like in the spring? I bring up the calendar. No, no, that’s not it.

“Can you give me a hint? Is it related to family, writing, or day job?” I feel like I’m playing twenty questions.

“Ummm, writing?”

“Are you saying it’s writing or….”

“Yeah, Yeah… I remembered ’cause of that last thought you had.”

At this point, my last thought was if my kids or husband had found and plundered my stash of chocolate in the kitchen.

“You don’t remember?” Long dramatic sigh from Fred. “Do I have to remember everything for you?”

Not sure how to answer that, but I give a valiant try to remember what could have triggered him. “Missing blog post?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. You’re missing a blog post.”

Whew, not that big a deal. I try to write something up for¬†Monday¬†posting and it was¬†Sunday. I had like 24 hour to get that done. “It’s okay I was just about to write one.”

“No not that one, the OTHER one.”

Ohoh. I had signed up for some guest blogs. “It’s not due til August.”

“Dude, it’s August.”

Huh, I better go find out when its due.

Do you have that little voice? What do you do to remember?

RWA Nationals

I leave Tuesday morning to go to RWA Nationals in Orlando, Florida. ¬†Being from the upper mid-west, the idea of going to Florida in July is crazy. ¬†You can always put more clothing on, but there is a legal limit in most places to what clothing you can take off. So that part of the trip, I’m not excited about.

This will be my first year at RWA nationals, my first writing conference. I have the chance to meet some writers that I really admire. Hopefully, I can resist being an over-the-top fan girl.

What advice would you give to a gal at her first conference?

Feeling Philosophical

Sometimes I am so myopic that the grains of sand look like boulders.

Think about that for a second.   I get so focused on the minutia, that small stuff becomes bigger, harder, and immovable.  A permanent fixture in my life.

Generally, I am a glass full, there’s silver lining, make it have a purpose kind of gal. ¬†I acknowledge the things that have a high probability of happening and do my best to sway the odds the way I want them to go. ¬†But shit does happen. ¬†I write stories about the stuff I don’t want to happen and I find a way to give them a happy ending.

Recently my sister died. ¬†That knocked me back and forced me to look at things differently. ¬†I view this as a good thing. ¬†Not my sister’s death, but the chance to reset and take stock of where I am. ¬†The chance to decide what I’ll focus on. The chance to make different choices.

So I asked myself questions like:

Am I doing the things I am doing because I want to or because I am caught in a rut or because I am afraid to change them?

Am I spending my energy on the things that are the most important?

What do you spend your energy on?  Are you too close to the small stuff?

Spring Cleaning in July

With recent events, I decided I needed to declutter and organize. This is a project where everything gets dumped on the floor. Then I take each item and decide to put in the garbage or give away or keep. The goal is to put more in the first two than the last. My intention is to do this for as much of the house as I can before I lose my steam. Added bonus if the stuff does not just stay on the floor.

What do you do to get yourself decluttered and organized?

Kidbit: Cartwheels and father’s day

“I can’t do a cartwheel.” ¬†My daughter puts her hands down and kicks her feet up, before slumping to the ground.

“Maybe someone can show you and then you can practice,” ¬†I say.

“Can you do cartwheels?” ¬†She adds that hopeful lilt at the end.

“Nope, but Daddy can.”

Her eyebrow juts up. ¬†She has the quizzical look down cold. “Daddy can do cartwheels?”

“Yup.” Starting at a very young age, her daddy was forced through the gauntlet of sports. Including gymnastics.

“But he is a boy and soo old!”

Happy father’s day.