Well, it's not quite 2022. The frenzy of Christmas and other holidays is pretty much over. Traditionally, many people party hard on December 31, ringing in the new year with drinking and noise, as if trying to drown out the old year and kicking open the door to something new and better.
Normally I'd be posting my resolution report card, grading myself on how I did on those promises I made to myself and the world last year. Well, if you recall, I didn't do that. Thusly, no grading this year. We all pass! YAY!
Friends, I'm convinced 2022 is going to be better than her older sisters, 2021, and that hag, 2020. But it's going to take all of us working together to make it so. This is beyond the usual "lose weight/stop spending money I don't have" usual stuff. We need to put some work into ourselves and each other. Therefore, here are my resolutions for 2022:
1) Continue working the #Noomweightloss program; and share it with others so they can see the amazing health benefits by simply understanding our relationship with food. (I'm down 30 pounds since May and while I haven't lost any measurable weight in the last two months, I haven't gained anything either, which, during the holidays, is amazing. The plan works, my friends.)
2) Enjoy drinking coffee black. Since I have an issue with dairy, and I have yet to find a non-dairy coffee creamer that's worth the red calories, I've started just drinking it black. I'm not quite there yet, but it's a step. I'm pretty sure Peaches will respect me more!
3) Learn to empathize, not apologize. This is big for me. I apologize for literally everything. I say, "I'm sorry," more than I say anything else on any given day. I have to learn I'm not to blame for every ache and pain. Hubby will be happier with me if I stop apologizing for everything every minute of the day!
4) Help without smothering. Skippy and Peaches will both cheer at this one. I do tend to overdo it when I sense someone needs a bit of help.
5) Educate myself about those who are different from me. It's a big world out there. Not everyone looks, thinks, loves, or worships the same way I do. And everyone is dealing with a multitude of challenges about which I know nothing. I want to learn so I can reach out and be a helpful, friendly, loving person without causing offense or hurting someone's feelings.
6) Finish the darn book! (Oh, you knew that one was coming.) I did not make writing a big priority in 2021...it needs to be this year. I have plans, big plans, for the next phase of my writing career.
In conclusion, Happy New Year everyone. Be safe tonight. Be smart.
And hey, it's okay if we don't fully realize our resolutions this year.
But I think, if we are good to each other, if we are kind, if we smile instead of frown, cheer instead of jeer, and help each other up instead of pushing each other down, we are going to be okay. We don't have to agree with each other. We don't even have to understand each other completely. All we have to do is be respectful. Be kind.
(One of my favorite Bible passages. I'm sure other religions have a similar command in their holy books. I would love to hear them!)
And with that, my friends and readers, I close out 2021. Here's to 2022...may she suck less and make us laugh more that her older sisters!
Well friends, here we are. I have no idea how we got to the last week of October already and I've blogged so little this year. Well, I mean, sure, Covid hassles stopped being funny a long time ago, and let's be honest, I never did get back into my real life groove after being in lock down. I mean, who would want to go back to a rigorous schedule of exercise and writing in the afternoons where there is SO MUCH TO WATCH on streaming services?
So yeah, I'm lazy. Completely lazy.
But it's the dawn of a new November. A new stab at National Novel Writing Month (Nanowrimo). Last year I managed to complete the 50,000 word challenge and the end result was publishing "Deal With a Devil." This year, I'm way behind where I wanted to be with my next work in progress, a fantasy-dark comedy-romance-internet thriller I have lovingly called "Suburban Princess" for almost twenty years when the idea of it first came into my head. If I can get over myself and actually write the darn thing, it might be the best thing I've ever come up with. Certainly the cover is cool!
But soon I will be locked into another Nano challenge and I've already promised this book will be published next year. So obviously I'm going to need some stuff from you, my readers, if I'm going to really be able to buckle down and get this book out!
5) COFFEE, COFFEE, and MORE COFFEE.
I don't eat while I'm writing, but I do drink. A lot. And much of it is coffee! (Okay I drink coffee a lot anyway, but when I'm planning to sit up into the wee hours of the day, I need more coffee.
4) WINE!
Okay, a wise person once said (or maybe it was one of my refrigerator magnets, I get those two things confused) "Write drunk. Edit sober." Friends, I am in the meat of the writing part. Traditionally, writers have drinking problems, this we know. And the chic writer beverage has been, historically, absinthe. However, You can only drink so much absinthe before that green fairy becomes a bit too real. (Which is hard to do since in the US all the fun stuff that's in old timey absinthe that made one hallucinate the green fairy is taken out! ((stupid FDA, harshing my fun)) . So my writing adult bevvy of choice is pinot noir. I'm not fussy. Only only cheap bottle will do. Or pricey bottles. Did I mention I'm writing a dark-comedy-romantic-fantasy-thriller? Hot tea is NOT going to cut it!
3) CLEANING and COOKING services. (OR...mystery food just delivered to my door!)
Hubby is great and all, but let's face it, he works too. And Skippy isn't one to cook or clean just for funsies. So, the Bradley manse is going to be a big old mess since I'm planning on ignoring housekeeping duties more than I do now. So...you know...if you're not afraid of dirty dishes or dirty bathrooms or dirty...you get the picture. It's going to be dirty. And the guys are going to be hungry. ('Cuz I'm going to COOK less than I do now...which is saying something.) Basically, you can pretend my family 's on the prayer list at church and the guys are going to need casseroles. LOL
2) 5 star Amazon reviews for my other books!
Friends, I have 16 other books of various genres. I've always said I'm not in the writing business for the money. I don't think any author gets up in the morning (or stays up late at night) because there's a big payday at the end of a novel. There typically isn't. Unless your last name is King, Grisham, Roberts, you know, something like that.
The authors I know get up and write because they have to. They have stories to tell. Yes, there's a business component to everything we do, but at the end of the day, it's about the art of it. Every writer and author I know has a day job. Every writer and author I know wishes they could make just enough money at their craft to quit their day job and write full time. We authors, we don't dream of yachts and summer homes. We dream of long stretches of time building worlds for others to enjoy.
A storyteller needs an audience and in this digital/internet world, the audience for book lovers is Amazon. Amazon tracks the number of reviews a book gets and every book needs X reviews to gain visibility on Amazon so that other readers can find the book.
I've been selling books now for more than a decade, to people who across the board have told me they love my writing. (Not a brag, I'm just saying.) And I've been pounding away every November for the last ten years, laying the groundwork for a new book. My reviews on amazon, while generally great, are very few and far between. So I'm putting out this plea, PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW.
You don't need to be a best selling author to leave a book review on Amazon. Simply click the 5 stars. That's literally all you need. If you want to leave a comment, all you have to say is, "I really enjoyed this book." Every review gets me closer to visibility on Amazon, closer to other readers reading my story. As a storyteller, this is the dream. Getting my stories to the biggest market possible.
And during Nano, seeing reviews for my books goes a long way to boosting me and reminding me that there is a point to what I do. People are reading my stories. They are loving my characters. I have a reason to go on!
1) Don't judge! Just send me encouragement! (But NOT on my phone!)
November is not only Nanowrimo, it's also the beginning of the holiday season. People laugh when I say I'm just about done gift shopping, but I have to be. November is all about the work. There is nothing else. In other years I've cut my Nano time short because of Thanksgiving, because I have to spend time with family and whatnot.
Not. This. Year.
That's how serious I am about this book. It's going to be good. But not if I can't focus. So yes, I'm going to do some mildly social-family-holiday stuff, but I'm not planning on spending any kind of heavy duty quality time ooh-ing and ah-ing over my mom's turkey (I mean, it's not going to be good anyway, but this year I'm not even going to try and lie about it. That just takes up time. LOL) I'm going to avoid social gatherings (more than I do now!) and I'm going to turn down invitations. Please don't judge. Just understand.
And send me messages, but not by phone. Cheer me on via Facebook or Sarah's Twitter. Give me funny memes about writing, coffee, encouragement. Just say you wish me well.
This blog might sound like I'm going off to do something difficult and draining. I am. But it's something I love and this year...this year I'm going to put everything I have into it. And I'll be able to do it.
With a little help from my friends!
On a side note, it's NOT TOO LATE to sign up for Nanowrimo if you want to give it a go. It's FREE. (Well, no money is involved.) And I'll be your buddy!
It's been quite the week and I've learned some stuff...so let's just get to it!
5) Follow the Directions...READ the directions!
In the last several years I haven't felt the need to shave my legs all that much. I mean, first of all, I live in a climate where we wear long pants 9 months out of the year. Second, my leg hair hasn't grown in as much as it did in my 20's. Finally...I just don't care that much, especially after COVID!
BUT, I'm going out and about this weekend and I want to look less gross. in studying myself critically I noted that while my leg hair wasn't all that thick...it was LONG. I mean, I had weird long strands hanging off my leg like some kind of balding bear.
Time to get rid of that!
Now, I could have just shaved my legs and been done. But, that wouldn't be funny, right? No, instead I cracked into a bottle of Nair I bought...let's just say a while ago.
For my younger readers, please enjoy this Nair commercial from my teen years:
For the rest of you, sing it with me: Who wears short shorts?
Okay, that was fun. Back to my lesson. I haven't used Nair in some time, but hey, I mean, it's Nair. I'm from the Nair generation. I KNOW HOW TO USE NAIR without reading the directions!
No I don't.
I poured a ton of that cream on my legs and rubbed it in HARD so that I could chemically melt all traces of leg hair. And my skin really sucked the heavy smelling stuff in, like it knew I was also trying to fry the follicles.
Aaaaaaand then I checked the directions. DO NOT RUB IN screams the bottle in big block letters.
I feared some kind of weird skin burns, but no. Instead, fun fact, Nair, if rubbed in, DOES NOT rinse off all that easily. Two showers later, my pores are still oozing a bit of greasy, chemical smelling goo. Very sexy. So...yeah.
4) Boy, I really thought I would die. Guess not.
So Hubby and I started doing Noom back the end of May. For those of you not in the know, Noom is NOT a diet program. I had my doubts, I've done a lot of diet programs, but honestly...this one works. I'm learning far more about food than I thought I would and, since the end of May, I've dropped12 pounds, I'm sleeping better, and I'm walking stronger and further than I used to.
Also, and this is big, I GAVE UP COFFEE CREAMER!
My coffee used to look like this:
But when I realized that my quarter cup of creamer took up all my red calories (read here: DELICIOUS calories) I decided to try something else. So I could, you know, eat solid food the rest of the day.
So I stopped putting coffee creamer in my coffee. And I didn't DIE!
Instead. I swapped my heavy, sweat, lovely coffee creamer for something I used to think would literally kill me:
That's right. I now dress up my coffee with unsweetened, unflavored almond milk (and a little packet of STEVIA sweetener.) And guess what?
I haven't died! I haven't died so much so that I've started putting this magical nut juice (which is a GREEN FOOD on Noom) on my bowl of cereal (Life Multigrain Cinnamon, which is also a green food.) And I haven't died!
3) "Blue" is not a drink. But it can be.
It's summer and in the summer I enjoy the adult beverages that only seem to pop up in summer: the blue ones. Every restaurant seems to have a blue beverage for summer and the recipes vary. They're usually called something like "Blue Bahama" or "Beach Bum" or something. I don't know. I don't care. I know it's blue and I like blue drinks in the summer.
So after the Farmers Market last week Hubby and I went to Sobelman's, a local eatery here in town known for their insane Bloody Marys. (I don't like Bloody Marys. I like everything that goes into one, but something happens when you mix is all together and I find it gross.)
Our server asked us for a drink order. Hubby ordered a beer and I said, "I'll have whatever your blue drink is."
Friends, the look on her face was precious! I should have taken a picture.
Apparently, "Blue" is not a drink order. Well, it should be. I give her points though, she walked up to the bar tender (we were able to watch because the eatery was pretty much empty, given how late in the day we were having lunch) and asked about a "blue drink." Where the server was confused and struggling valiantly to help me, the bartender was nonchalant. A few moments later, out came a wonderful blue drink. The "Blue RaspBetty White." Apparently, Sobelman's HAS a drink called the RaspBetty White. Our resourceful bartender simply added blue curacao.
2) There's a rule about seafood for a reason.
Hubby has kind of a picky stomach. There are certain foods from certain eateries that he simply cannot eat because his body reacts...quickly and with great violence. I, however, have never had that problem. (Fun fact, regardless of what certain former employers might think...I don't think I've ever actually had food poisoning! LOL)
Well, I'm not sure if it's age or the fact that I'm eating less greasy/processed foods lately or what, but last night Hubby, Peaches, and I ate at an establishment we've not been to in a VERY VERY VERY long time. I ordered the seared scallops. (A green food on Noom...but the drawn butter IS NOT.) I enjoyed the seared scallops.
My internal system, however, did NOT enjoy the scallops. I'm just glad there was a Kwik Trip close to the eatery. Kwik Trip has the only public restrooms I come close to trusting. And I'm sure Peaches, when she reads this, will be very happy I didn't use her restroom instead! LOL
I haven't fully sworn off scallops. But, I will probably not order them again from a place that specializes in seven forms of steak.
1) You'd think I knew everything about cat hair. And yet...
Okay, you'd think I'd know this, but apparently not. IF you have cats and IF you use those fuzzy hangers that grip your clothes and keep them from falling on the floor because you're a big fluffy girl and clothing designers have decided that since you're a big fluffy girl you must have a massive neck and therefore must wear tops with a neck hole the size of the Grand Canyon...
...wait, where was I?
Right, velvet hangers.
If you have cats and if you use these hangers do not, I repeat, DO NOT lay the hangers on your bed.
I mean, unless you like having cat hair INSIDE your tops. I'm not going to tell you how to live.
So this will be a quick little blog today because, well, even I can't expand what happened to make it more funny. It is, what it is.
Yesterday, I had a surprise session of physical therapy with PPTB. I say "Surprise" because I was on the cancellation list and they called me at 6:54 AM and told me to come in. I was too shocked by a pre-7 AM phone call to say no. However, I was already dressed. (This is important to remember as this blog goes on.)
I got to the hospital, checked in, (no fire alarm this time, but there was a guy who was really, really interested in flirting very awkwardly with the sixty year old receptionist), and got into the room with PPTB.
All is normal, right?
Sure.
He explained that we'd be doing the dry needling again. I laid on the table, and waited for the almost non-existent pain of the needle sticks. Except, I felt each and every needle stick this time, almost like PPTB was trying to hurt me on purpose.
"You were so much better at this last time," I quipped. He laughed. It was a nice laugh, I think, not an evil one. Clearly, he didn't know what was coming. But then, neither did I.
He poked me again and this time I felt a real electric shock, like I was already hooked up to the "juice box." (His name for it.)
"So is this more painful because I have metal in my pants today?" I asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I was already dressed when they called me, and it's such a hassle to change with Franken Boot that I didn't get into sweat pants this time. Is that why I'm feeling all this electricity more?"
"What metal do you have in your pants?" he asks.
"Like the zipper and some grommets," I answer.
Then I get snarky. "Actually, I have metal stays up and down each pant leg. "
"Ha, ha," he laughs.
"Sure there's metal in my pants. What do you have in your pants?"
And that's when PPTB completely lost it and I wanted to pretend the electric current (which hadn't started yet) would knock me out. (For the record, he didn't answer that.)
Yep...open mouth...insert Franken Boot.
And while you're cleaning up the coffee you just spewed through your nose laughing at this, I'll leave you with this picture of Franken Boot, my shoe selection for my right foot today, and Franken Boot's new eyes.
As some of you may know I've been shut away from the public eye for the last several days due to my semi-annual case of death cough/bronchitis. I started the cough at a craft fair on the 9th (a few short days after my return from Vegas. My guess is my lungs don't like sudden changes in weather.) and have been wracked by a horrible cough, muscle aches, weakness, and congestion ever since. But mostly it's the cough. The cough is what kept me out of work for the better part of 3 days last week.
Anyway, I'm telling you that to set up what I'm going to tell you now: On Friday the 15th, having not left the house in nearly a week, Hubby invited me to go out for a late lunch when I was done with my work day. Not wanting to offend a fancier crowd, we chose "Fuzzy's" on Main Street in Waukesha. Fuzzy's may not look like much on the outside (or on the inside...it's not a pretty place) but the food they crank out there is really fantastic. Their breakfasts are hard to beat, and I really like their burgers.
Again, getting off track here.
Fuzzy's is split into two spaces. The bar is a place where locals pretty much park it at all times of the day. The other room is tables and chairs for patrons who want to eat food and maybe not spend their day staring at the people across the u-shaped bar. Again, we go there because the food is fantastic.
Last Friday we got there just before 2:30 and the parking lot was surprisingly full. I always forget that in Wisconsin Fish Fry Fridays aren't just a supper thing. They are an all day thing. We love our fish fry...all day Friday. Walking in, it was clear, the lunch rush had been something spectacular. A handful of regulars sat at the bar and the empty tables were still cluttered from previous diners. The whole place had the aura of the salty, sandy bits left behind by a tidal wave.
Hubby and I found a table that wasn't sticky and sat down. I've been really groggy lately, given my late nights coughing, so I thought a cup of coffee with my fish fry would get me through lunch and grocery shopping. These two outings, my first in a week, would be all I had the strength to do and I needed a little boost.
The waitress, the only one covering the tables (the other one covered the bar) looked harried and tired, but still cheerful. She wiped off our table, apologized for mess, mentioned that lunch had been huge and then she took our drink order. Hubby ordered a beer. I ordered a glass of ice water and a coffee.
The ice water and beer showed up within minutes and we placed our order for food, reminding her about my coffee order. She apologized. Then she went to the next table, took their drink order and food order and went back to the bar. A few moments later, she brought out their drink order.
Still no coffee for me. I sort of felt like I was trapped in that episode of "Fawlty Towers" where the guy has to place his drink order with Basil several times.
Several minutes later, our food came out, as did the other table's. The waitress set our order in front of the other diners. We thought it amazing that they'd ordered the exact same thing we did, they thought it annoying that one got a burger instead of the French dip she wanted. Correction was made, many apologies from the waitress.
Hubby reminded the waitress about my coffee, and she apologized profusely. Then she walked past the coffee machine (which was about two feet from our table, at one point I suggested we just make me a cup of coffee since both of us knows how to run a Bunn machine and both of us knows how to make coffee to restaurant standards.) to wipe off a few tables.
That's when her son walked in with her sister. School was out for the day and sis dropped the kid off at mom's work so he could play his video game while she finished the last hour of her shift.
The video game didn't work. The boy, probably ten, spent the next ten minutes squawking, "It's not working MOM!"
I sort of wanted to say the same about my coffee order.
Now here's where it gets good, and we get to the point of it all. The waitress finally managed to pour me a cup of coffee and while I was sipping it, enjoying the rejuvenating effects of that beautiful, black, brew, a sort of floor show broke out in another part of the restaurant.
This is not a big place. This is a very small place full of local flavor. That means the bathrooms are not, exactly, Sarah approved. The ladies' room is typical of a small powder room in some one's home. The men's, I guess, is the same, but with a urinal...so I'm told. Now, hubby has explained men's room etiquette to me, but honestly, he forgot one rule, the one where you don't lock the door if you're just peeing and there's a stall and a urinal available. Go ahead and ponder that for a moment. I'm still trying to figure out how they managed to fit a stall and a urinal in the same construction foot print as the ladies' room.
I guess they're different.
Anyway, while we were eating, and I was finally gaining some mental clarity with my coffee, the haggard, frazzled, child-tormented waitress emerged from the ladies' room, announcing, "the toilet's backed up!"
Now, frequent readers of this blog know that I would never, ever, share that information out loud. I would either 1) fix the problem myself and then leave, never to return to that bathroom ever again or 2) find the owner of the bathroom and murmur in the lowest of tones that I did NOT plug the toilet, but that the toilet now was experiencing issues.
But that's just me.
This lady was at the end of a long day, her kid was yelling about his video game, most of the tables still weren't cleared off and the dinner rush was about to start. All she wanted was to use the restroom in peace.
Instead...she got an overflow.
Now, I'm not sure if she was finished with her bathroom business or if she just wanted to wash her hands, but her next move was to go into the men's room. I mean, in this day and age, why not? There's a lock on the door for a reason, and honestly, in these small places, everyone should be able to use whatever room is open.
Unfortunately for her, the day got worse.
She opened the door and the next thing we all heard was, "Oh SH**! OH F***! I just saw Doug peeing!"
Well then. Dinner and a show. I would have paid extra for that!
Turns out, Doug is an older fella, a regular, who emerged from the restroom three seconds later to reclaim his seat at the bar.
"Did you even wash your hands?" The waitress demanded to know.
"No." Says Doug.
"Ew! Gross!" Yells both waitresses.
"Hey, I learned a long time ago not to pee on my hands."
That's his defense. "I don't pee on my hands."
"You didn't lock the door, Doug!" the harried waitress yells.
"Why were you walking in there anyway?"
"Because the ladies' room overflowed."
It's at this point Hubby shares the rule of the lock with me. Now, three days later, I'm still trying to figure out how all that equipment fits in that small a room with enough privacy at either the throne or the urinal to allow someone to NOT lock the door, but whatever. Guys are gross, I guess.
There's much chatter among the table diners about this, but nothing compared to the debate at the bar. Doug defends his position both for not locking the door and for not washing his hands. Some of the bar guys support him. The waitresses, and those of us at tables who can hear him , do not. At any rate, the discussion about hand washing and door locking continues for the rest of our time at Fuzzy's.
Whether or not the kid's video game got fixed, I don't know.
Whether or not the ladies' room got unplugged, I don't know.
This I do know: I'll go back to Fuzzy's because it's one of the best breakfast places in town and their burgers are awesome as is their fish fry. And hey, if they can promise more improv shows like this...I guess I can forgive a little delay in getting my coffee.
