Finding a stopping point

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I read a terrific post today in Scott William Carter’s blog series called Games Writers Play. His suggestion challenged me, and I think it is a big reason why I haven’t written very much more on my novel, play, short stories … (can you tell I like to start writing projects but have a hard time finishing them??).

In a nutshell, Carter recommended putting down your pen – or closing the laptop, as the case may be – when you are really on a roll and the words come easy. Instead of waiting for a stopping point or finishing a chapter or scene, stop while you still have ideas anxiously floating around in your mind!

That is my problem, in a lot of cases. I write and write until I get to the end of my thought, and then I stop until a new idea pops into my head. Unfortunately, that usually means strumming my fingers aimlessly on the keyboard and going cross-eyed looking at the blinking cursor or not even trying to write at all for days or weeks. I’m going to take Carter’s suggestion and stop writing while I’m in mid-thought; that way, when I come back to the manuscript, I’ll be eager to pick up where I left off and be much more productive with my writing time.

Chicken Sauvignon recipe experiment #win

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At the risk of sounding like a lush (stop giggling – I’m not, I promise!), I don’t often find a red wine that I dislike. Beverage wines (like sangria & lambrusco) aside, red wine has surprisingly few carbs, so I can enjoy a glass or two without blowing my diet. That said, I bought a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon a couple of weeks ago, and I was disappointed by the twangy taste. In the interest of science, I tried a second glass, but it was no better. 😉

What a conundrum – a little over half a bottle of wine left, yet I didn’t want it. I left it in the fridge for no reason other than it seemed wasteful to pour it out.

This afternoon, I was contemplating what to fix for dinner, and I remembered the wine. I recalled that beer and wine could be used in marinades, so I decided to give it a try. I put four large chicken breasts in a baking dish and poured the wine over the chicken. I flipped each piece over to be sure the meat was coated. Then, I added a generous sprinkle of dried, minced garlic (probably 1/4 c. total) and paprika (probably 2 Tbsp total) to both sides. I put plastic wrap over the dish and let it sit for a few hours. Then, I baked it at 375 for 45 min, flipping the chicken at about the halfway point to ensure coating.

The kitchen smelled like garlic bread, which was fabulous, and the chicken turned purple, which the boys thought was way cool. Of course, the alcohol cooks out with that amount of heat and time, so I wasn’t too concerned about it. (I didn’t tell them that I marinated the chicken in wine, and they didn’t ask.) Once they smelled the garlic, they knew that they would like it.

I was stunned. It was amazing! The chicken was very moist and tender. I served it with corn on the cob that I had boiled with seasoned salt, and for dessert, they had apple dippers (just sliced apples with caramel sauce). It was a big hit! Since I don’t eat corn on my diet (there are lower-carb veggie options that I would prefer), I ate my chicken with some fresh avocado slices sprinkled with pepper. Yummy goodness.

Although I won’t be buying that brand of Cabernet Sauvignon again, at least now I have a great way to use any leftover wine!

50 lbs and still counting

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The thought occurred to me that although I need the accountability and encouragement, there may come a point where I don’t want to share that I’ve lost 75 … 80 … and eventually, 96 lbs. It’s just my pride; I don’t want to admit that I really have that much to lose. My goal weight is actually pretty liberal; some charts say that my “ideal” weight is another 30 lbs lower, but I say screw the ideal charts – I just want to be at a healthy, fit weight.

It doesn’t help to dwell on where I started; it’s much more fun to see how much progress I’m making. That said, it’s my joy to report that I have surpassed the 50-lb mark! Here’s a picture to prove it. 🙂

I feel great, and like I mentioned last week, people are really starting to notice. I was able to put my college pinky ring all the way onto my finger, and it took a whole minute before my finger started turning purple, lol. Hey, that’s progress – before, I could only get it past my knuckle.

I will celebrate by going shopping tomorrow. My awesome mom gave me a few more things that I can borrow for work (one more mini-goal accomplished: to be able to fit into her clothes!!), but I am going to look for some more slacks or maybe a skirt and a couple of blouses. There should be some good holiday sales this weekend, which would be great, b/c I don’t want to pay full-price for something I plan to only wear a few weeks.

What is the opposite of a pyromaniac?

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Do you have any childhood memories where the details are a bit fuzzy, but you specifically remember the emotion of the event? Allow me to share such a story:

One Fourth of July (I don’t think it was New Year’s Eve, b/c it wasn’t cold), my mom and I were sitting on the trunk of the car in the driveway and watching my brother and dad pop fireworks in the street. I already had a healthy respect for fireworks and preferred to keep my distance. I could be cajoled into lighting a sparkler, but that was about it. I had no interest in things that caught fire, exploded, or flew through the air.

I would run away as soon as I lit the fuse on a package of Blackcats, for cryin’ out loud. My little brother Nathan, on the other hand, had no fear. He would take part in bottle rocket contests with my boyfriend and his brothers to see who could launch them the farthest while holding the stem of the rocket! (This was the same kid who blew up things in the mailbox just to hear the kaboom and made God-only-knows-what in 2L bottles to launch in the street. It was Phineas & Ferb stuff, of course; he didn’t do it maliciously. He could have been a chemist or ordnance specialist, if he wanted to.)

Anyway, back to the story at hand. I was sitting on the trunk of the car, minding my own business – probably daydreaming about marrying Kirk Cameron or some such nonsense, when a wayward spinning bee (whatever it was called) decided to fly sideways – straight at my face!

I think I ducked; I don’t recall it actually hitting me (thus, the whole emotional memory vs. details). It did, however, solidify my intense fear of fireworks. So, although the boys are disappointed that we can’t pop fireworks within the city limits, I’m not the least bit upset about it. If the weather holds out, then we might go downtown tonight to see the display over the river. I’ll admit that fireworks are quite pretty … from a distance.

Paperclip points

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Last summer, we had a family meeting to brainstorm behavior and consequences. The boys all had input about what should be expected of them and punishments for misbehavior. They helped to decide what behaviors should result in a time-out, have privileges taken away, spanking, write lines, etc. That discussion was helpful for everyone, b/c there were fewer surprises when someone got in trouble – they knew what was coming to them.

Still, it seemed like we needed something more visible where they could see their progress beyond the moment. I was finding, especially with the younger ones, that they would get in trouble and then repeat the same sort of behavior and hour or two later. The almost-7yo actually cried to me (after the third offense in as many hours), “Can’t you give me just ONE more chance?!” I decided that he needed to be able to see how his behavior compounded over the course of the day.

Enter paperclip points.

The 10yo and I sat down one evening after the others were in bed and devised a pro & con list of behaviors. The “plus” list had a few gimme items, like brushing teeth without being reminded and spending time playing with the dogs, but most of the list entailed above-and-beyond tasks or voluntary acts of kindness (like sharing w/o being asked or offering to help someone). The “minus” list included things like hogging games/toys, screaming at someone and leaving dirty clothes on the floor.

We reviewed the list with the other four to be sure that everyone understood what the points stood for, then I announced the weekly totals:

  • 5 points (Everyone starts at this level, so it’s the baseline): Get to stay up 1 hr late on Friday night
  • 10 points: Get to camp out (sleeping bags on the floor, etc.) on Friday night
  • 15 points (Only valid if ALL five boys earn 15 points): Donuts for breakfast on Sat or Sun – Mom’s choice 😉
  • 20 points: $2 (You should’ve heard the cheers! lol)
  • 25 points: $5 (You thought the first cheers were excited?!)
  • Highest point earner: Gets 30 min of uninterrupted, one-player video game time (unanimous whoops)
  • Lowest point-earner: Has to do poop patrol in the backyard on the weekend (unanimous groans)

We’re in the middle of the first week, but so far, it’s going well. The almost-7yo was down to zero paperclips this morning, but he has since earned one back. The 9yo has been amazing, and while I realize it’s largely self-serving, I’m still relishing in the good behavior. I overheard him talking to No. 3 in the hallway as they were counting paperclip chains on the rope that I strung across the coat rack: “It’s ok; I know you can earn them back. You can do it; I know you can.” The 5yos have gotten clever, too – one of them told me when I picked them up today, “I shared my Play-Doh with a friend today, so can I have a paperclip?”

So, if you catch a monkey boy in an act of kindness, please be sure to let me know … the best paperclips are those earned unintentionally.

Project in the projects

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Our church has become very active in a public housing community in our city, and although I’m aware of the great stuff they’ve been doing, for some reason or another, tonight was the first time that we’ve gone to help out. I wasn’t sure how much “help” I would be with four out of five monkey boys in tow (the oldest is at camp), but we went, anyway.

The guys had a fun time, and I think they made some friends with the neighborhood kids. This suburbanite was a bit nervous about the community, b/c it’s a bad part of town, but I know that shouldn’t keep us from reaching out to the families there. The church hosted games and served dinner to 50 or so kids (and a few parents).

As much as the monkey boys drive me bonkers sometimes, our experience tonight made me appreciate a few key things:

  • They sometimes need to be reminded of their manners, but more often than not, they do say “thank you” and “yes, ma’am.”
  • They don’t always listen the first time I tell them to do something, but they do not have the nerve to roll their eyes at me.
  • They don’t always like everything they are served at dinner, but they know that they have to try it, and it is never ok to say that what I have worked hard to prepare for them is “yuck.”

I understand that being a positive adult role model is a big part of our efforts in that community. I guess I just wasn’t mentally prepared for a few of the kids’ attitudes. Two kids actually mouthed off in line for dinner, “I don’t want spaghetti,” or “Do I have to have spaghetti?” and it made my eyes bug out in amazement. It’s a free meal, for crying out loud.

I was pleased that the boys didn’t whine too much about not being able to eat there. I told them in the car on the way over that we would eat on the way back home, but the meal we were serving was for our new friends and not for us. I had to remind them when they saw everyone else getting in line – I know they were hungry, and it was much later than we normally eat dinner – but when I reminded them quietly that we would eat on the way home, they backed off and didn’t fuss about it too much.

All in all, it was a good experience, and we’re planning to go back on Tuesday evenings throughout the summer for games and backyard Bible club type of activities followed by dinner for the neighborhood kids. Please pray for the “C4” ministry (that’s the nickname).

Noticeable progress!

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Someone told me a while back (I’m bummed that I can’t remember who said it so that I can thank them!) that folks would come out of the woodwork noticing my weightloss around the 50-lb mark. Well, at our ministry outing tonight (more about that in another post), two guys from church asked me  if I had lost weight. 😀  They were both really sweet about it and said they had noticed but didn’t want to say anything out of place. I assured them that I appreciated the comment!! Wahoo!

I was down 48 lbs last week, and I’m hoping to hit the 50-lb mark at my weigh-in this Thursday. I’ll keep you posted! 😀

I’m going to have to get my wedding rings resized when I hit my goal. It’s funny, b/c I don’t recall them being loose when I first got them 12+ years ago, but man, they’re just spinning on my finger as I type. :p  I can only imagine how much looser they’ll be at the goal line!

One goal is being able to wear my college pinky ring again. If the band was a thinner style, it would already fit, but the wide face with the stone and embossed lettering doesn’t quite set on my finger yet. When I can wear that ring, then I’ll know that I’ve made some serious progress!! Then again, college graduation was before my wedding, so I may not be able to wear that ring until I’m at my goal. Whatever – I’m still excited.

I had to break down and buy a few inexpensive blouses this week, b/c I’m running out of work clothes. I’m also wearing my last hopefully-it’ll-fit-someday slacks, so unless I can sweet-talk my mom into passing down some more of her clothes, I need to keep an eye out on sales. Speaking of whom, my mom has been awesome – she’s a size smaller than me, and it’s been great fun for both of us to see what clothes I can fit into! Not to mention, it sure saves the pocketbook.

On a side note, did you know that whiskey, gin, vodka and rum have NO carbs? Neither does diet cola. Just sayin’.

Overloaded amplifiers and other adventures of boyhood

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This afternoon, I partially disassembled a vhs rewinder, broken dvd player and the fizzled-out control panel from a stationary bike, in preparation for the three big boys to finish taking them apart at Camp Invention this week. I can’t wait to see what clever things they will create.

Each child is supposed to bring a “take-apart” mechanical item – something broken or otherwise unusable, because they won’t be returned in working condition. We still have a few boxes of random electronics and other computer parts that were from our old house and/or my brother’s house, so this was good motivation to sift through boxes that I’ve been putting off doing for a year.

This camp looks like it will be a lot of fun, and I think it’s one that my brother would especially like for his son to attend. Nathan was the kind of kid who took things apart just to see how they worked, and I don’t think he ever bought a computer in a box, ready-made. He put them together himself from pieces here and there.

I thought about him a lot as I was prepping the take-apart items. The instructions said to loosen the screws, remove electrical cords and pry open any affixed parts so that the kids could spend time exploring the insides rather than wasting time trying to open the gadgets.

I also thought about him because my oldest nephew, the one attending this camp with the other two big boys, has been a pill all weekend. Sometimes I wish I could seek Nathan’s insight. I don’t want to seem like I’m always fussing at him, but he’s always getting into trouble. If the older boys are any indication, I know that part of it is just his age. Six-going-on-seven is a rowdy, energetic age with two gears: Overload and Sleeping. (Think of Back to the Future when Marty plugged in his guitar to Doc’s amplifier with all the gauges turned up to the max, and you have the general idea.)

Part of it, though, seems to be a lack of respect for my authority. That isn’t to say that he’s a perfect angel with everyone else – quite the contrary. I know that he misses Daddy and Dad/Uncle Lane, but I don’t even really think it’s a male role model issue, because he has several positive male role models who are active in his life, and he’s mouthed off or gotten in trouble for behavior with them, too. Nathan had plenty of trouble with his behavior, even back then, so at least it isn’t something new that he’s developed since Nathan died.

We’ll just keep working through it and try to capture those sweet moments when he is so loving and snuggly – which he can be! – and not dwell on the temper spikes and outbursts. I know every child is different, but I look at the 9yo sometimes and see a lot of him in these instances. There were times when he was six and seven when I wondered how we’d make it till the end of the week, much less fourth grade … yet, we did it. And we can do it again. Pray for us, please.

Dream On

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Who knew that we could find life lessons in an Aerosmith song?

The boys always ask to listen to Dream On in the car (along with Safety Dance, also on the “Glee” soundtrack). They divvy up parts, usually 2nd row vs. 3rd row, to mimic Matthew Morrison & Neil Patrick Harris’ duet on the show.

Because we have rules in the car about singing songs aloud (ie, the local rock station is ok to play air guitar but usually not to sing along), they wanted to know if they could sing Dream On. That prompted a conversation about the lyrics …

We talked about the “lines on my face getting clearer” and how that refers to him getting wrinkles and growing older, so he’s thinking about his life. “The past is gone” means that you can’t have a do-over in life. “Dusk to dawn” is how quickly it seems that his life is going by.

We also talked about the phrase, “the good Lord will take you away” and how it refers to dying. The 9yo piped up: “Wow, that’s a pretty sad song then.” I agreed and said that it could be a sad song, but then why is he telling us to “dream on”? The song says to dream until your dreams come true and to sing together, even if it’s just for a day.

We decided that the song means to make the most of each day, because we don’t know how long we have to live. We all want to grow old and live a long life, but it doesn’t always happen that way, so let’s dream big and enjoy the life that God has given us.

So, there you have it: a sermonette from Aerosmith.

The boys have been wanting to put on a “concert” for their grandparents, so I suggested making a video to share. They jumped at the chance to be on camera, and despite the sound/video quality of my cheap equipment, I think the final product is pretty hilarious. I just hope Steven Tyler has a good sense of humor. 😉

Click it; wear it; set it!

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Another acquaintance was killed in a motor vehicle accident this weekend. That’s the second one in about a week. We used to work in the same department until she moved to Dallas for a new job a few months ago. Neither she nor her two daughters (ages 8 & 10) were wearing seatbelts. The driver of the truck and two other passengers were. My co-worker and her 10yo were thrown from the vehicle and killed. The 8yo, amazingly, survived.

People, PLEASE wear your seatbelts.

I mentioned the other day about an old friend of ours (also from Big D) who died in a motorcycle accident. The visitation on Friday evening was touching, but it breaks my heart to know that his wife and kids are left to sort out the pieces of this crazy puzzle we call life. I don’t know if he was wearing a helmet, but I reckon not.

It’s just senseless, and I can’t understand the rationale. Why NOT wear a seatbelt? Why NOT wear a helmet?

Sure, we all have heard stories about bikers who were killed even with a helmet — it’s a motorcycle, what do you expect? Only Robert Downey, Jr. is Iron Man, after all. We also learn about occasions when people die in car accidents while wearing seatbelts.

To take it a step further, I also know all too well that someone can be shot accidentally by a gun on safety. That doesn’t mean that people should neglect to set the safety, in the first place.

Freak accidents happen, but so often, these tragedies are avoidable.

Click it; wear it; set it! Why gamble with your life – and the lives of others – by failing to do something so simple?! I don’t care if it wrinkles your shirt; wear the darn seatbelt. I don’t care if your head sweats and you can’t show off your wicked-cool bandanna; wear the darn helmet. I don’t care if you have your gun stowed in a place where you are sure no one else can reach it; set the darn safety.

Please.

We’d miss you.