An Inspitational Evening

For those of you who have high dreams, expectations that seem to supersede reality, and belief in yourself, hear this.

We all have something hidden deep within us. Something so powerful that we ourselves may fear the actual knowledge of. It's that something that encourages us to trudge forward day in and day out with the hope that tomorrow will be a better, more profound day. Some of us dig deep-taking the time and energy to, not only realize, but grasp who and what we actually are. We are all more than who we are. We can all do more than we do.

True happiness presents its self once our dreams are realized. Although, realizing them is not enough. By far, it is just the beginning. There comes a time, in all of us, that the need to achieve our dreams supersedes all else. It is those of us who make the time, find the way, and bomb the disillusionment that there is no map to fully uncover, unfold and live our dreams. Dreams don't necessarily need to be big or small. They just need to be exposed and lived.

I was a closet writer when I was a child. Not that I kept it a secret, but I actually sat in my closet to write. Those who knew me would never truly understand my need to write stories, so I did it in the confines of my literary hut. As I grew, so did my confidence and desires.

Writing, to me, is no longer a shadow of who I am. It is not anything to be shameful about, but proud of. It is who and what I am made of. Surely if I were to be x-rayed they'd find nothing but a bunch of stories, books and desires inside of me.

I consider myself one of the lucky ones. Not because I have a dream and I am trying to live up to it, but because I took the time to indulge in my dream and took notice of who I really am.

I'm not so sure, but I sometimes wonder about angry, irritable people. To me, for someone to sit on and never let their dreams be known, just might be like walking around with an open wound and trying to ignore it. Believe me when I say it's better to nurse it, pamper it, soothe it and all your pain will disappear, as will the irritability with it. Who really knows, but it might be worth a try.

So, all of you out there with unrealized dreams-stop sitting on them. Give them room to breath and grow. Show the world who you really are-you'll be a much happier person for doing so, as will those around you.

I had the honor of meeting Jon Clinch last night at a book signing. What an inspiration that was. It still lingers in my mind today how he is actually living his dream. His debut novel 'Finn' sounds wonderful and I can't wait to read it. He's taken Huck Finn's dad and created an unusually compassionate tale about him. Not that there really is anything compassionate about the old guy, or that compassionate is the right word, but just read it for yourself and see.

As for even more excitement to the evening. I am part of a writer's forum called Backspace. It's even better than the whole 'writer's section' of B&N. The entire site is a wealth of knowledge and the friendliest, most helpful group of people you'd ever know. I was lucky enough to meet three of them last night at the signing. Carrie, Elizabeth, and Stella are all wonderful ladies. I can't wait to meet up with them again in New York in May.

For all of you reading this do me, and yourself, a favor. The next time you have a bad day, or you're angry and don't know why, take a moment to search for a flattened, deflated, ignored dream. If you find one, do the only thing you can, try, just try living it.

I wrote this poem when I was a young-girl-closet-writer and it still sticks with me today:

Life's A Dream

To sing a song is joyful
To play a game's amusing
To live the life we live
Is very much confusing.

To sing a song the words are there
To lose a game is never fair,
But what is to compare?

To a life that lives on dwelling
Of a future not foretelling
'Tis needless to surrender
All hopes and dreams of splendor.

Any dream is worth chasing
And obstacle worth partaking
Of any dream you wish to explore
And follow through with what you endure.

And in the end you'll discover
No one dream is like another.

When all is over and you're at your peak
You just might find there's more to seek.

Dreams don't end
They only grow
And yet you'll find
There's more to know.

When your dreams have been met
Without the feeling of regret...

Your song's been sang
Your games been played
For this truly fulfilling
Life that you have made.

I'm not so sure it's a 'good poem', but the meaning of it was good enough to stay with me all these years.

So I Was Saying.....Gwaaaaaaaaafff...

Okay, so I came up with this brilliant idea to become a blogger. (Not my idea entirely. It seems others are doing it too.) I will blog daily and everyone, yes everyone, will read my words of -wisdom, humor, craft, gibberish. Yes, all eighteen that have viewed my site, I do consider to be EVERYONE. Anyone who hasn't yet is still considered no one.

So anyway, I thought I should do this daily and I tried, but then, just the other day, the only thing that came out of my mouth was Gwaaaaaaaafff... This is what started the lapse in blog time. I'll save you the details, but I haven't Gwaaaaafffed like that since I was pregnant-years ago. Not only did I Gwaaaaafff for days, but two of my kids did too. It was like our whole house was Gwaaaaafffing for days.

My king-sized bed became a sandlot of tissues, buckets, damp washcloths, miniature humans and myself. Where was the hubby in all this? Well he was the smart one-keeping his distance on the couch, although it included a day off work for him.

As if the Gwaaaaafffing wasn't bad enough. Ya ever feel like all the bones have been removed from your body-nothing to hold it upright. Even worse, if you can imagine one of those toothpaste-pusher-upper thing-a-ma-jigs. That's what I felt like for days. Like someone was pushing up on my boneless body-starting at my feet all the way to my head, until it was about to explode. Didn't even have the luxury of Motrin or else I'd-well you know. GOD AWFUL. I hated germs before, but now I have it in for them.

You know the saddest part to all of this, other than the fact that we all encountered yet another invasion, is this. As horrible as I felt I tried to go to work. I had gotten an offer on a property I have listed.... Hey listen, instead of sounding like the Realtor that I am, I'll just give you the high points. I thought it was noble of me to try and go to work, and on my way there I did the 'G' word in my car. I had no choice but to cancel and the agent practically called me a liar. She thought I was holding out for another offer. How dare she?

Now, along with everything else, my honesty was being questioned. For a brief moment, I thought, I'll show her. Not as in payback, but as in I'LL SHOW HER the 'G' in my car. Maybe then she would believe me. Instead the only thing these jelly-like legs could do was press on the gas long enough to get me home-in bed, where I stayed until this morning. Ah, what tomorrow really means. You never realize just how good tomorrow is until it's here. After all, it's on-ly aaaa daaaaaay a-waaaaaaay. At least I'm not an Orphan scrubbing toilets. (No offense to those of you who are)

Oh, well. That's all folks-until tomorrow. Well, since it's so late it's early, and tomorrow, I guess it's already tomorrow, or is it today. Forgive me, I'm tired and dehydrated along with other excuses, I may discuss once I get to know all EIGHTEEN of you better, but for now it's bedtime. Hopefully, whatever the day will be once I wake up, I will write something brilliant and new. If nothing happens good enough to write about, I'll just LIE (in writer's lingo we call that fiction). Good night.

A Stranger Entered Our Home While We Slept...

I woke this morning with my robotic routine in gear. After performing the normal hygienic a.m. tasks I found my way to the kitchen where I started coffee, let the dogs out, dropped some dog food in their bowls, then straight to the fish tank where all hell broke loose. I pinched a bit of fish food from the container and from the corner of my eye-movement beneath the fish stand. With a shriek I jumped backward, knocking over a chair. Trying to keep my balance my heel came down hard on a piece of stray dog food (ouch), hopping on one foot I managed to knock over the dogs water. All the while my eyes on the stranger in my home. With a quick look to the left and then the right in search of help-no one. I was alone to deal with this stranger.

Finally, my balance gave out and both feet were once again on the ground. Heroically, I tiptoed over to him, bent down a bit and was staring into the beady brown eyes of who I assumed was NOT Mickey. Not because he was brown, but because his ears were a tad small. I did however have to look twice to ensure myself that he wasn't our long lost hamster-nope.

Anyway, what was I to do. He was lying there all alive and everything, kinda sideways on one of those icky sticky mousetraps. I think he was actually gasping, eeer, not that I was staring or anything. I wondered where this mouse in the sticky trap came from. I wondered how far he could have traveled carrying this thing on his side. Must have been a long ways since he just gave up and was all out of breath lying on my kitchen floor.

Not wanting the kids to witness this awful intruder, I woke my husband who informed me that he had put the trap there the night before-without the (not Mickey) mouse on it, of course. He had told me a couple of weeks prior that he thought we had a mouse, but I just thought he was hallucinating from staying up too late. I was sure that since I was the one who really knew all the ins and outs about the house that I would know for sure if we had a mouse. I was wrong.

Not thinking of him as a bad guy or anything (the mouse, not my husband), I asked my husband if there was possibly a way to peel him from the glue and give him another chance. Just one more chance after all he'd been through. You wouldn't believe the look on my husbands face while he carried the dangling mouse to the back door.

I went upstairs to get ready for work thinking about how a life ended at my home today. Geesh, when I say it that way I feel like a really bad person.

In a few hours we're off to the Circus-Ringling Brothers in Baltimore. I can't wait, although my 8 and 9 year old, and my husband are kind of dreading it. I know once they get there they'll have fun. If nothing more just getting out as a family is all I really care about anyway. Our three year old is psyched, I guess. She's not really sure what a circus is, but I guess it's my reaction that makes her get excited. If I said it JUST RIGHT, I could probably tell her that we were going to fling cow patties and she'd be thrilled by that. You see, for kids that age, all they really hear is 'WE ARE...' and they get excited, and that's good enough for them. Ah, to be young again.

Hi Ho, Hi ho, it's off to shool they go...

Well I just got the last of my stow-a-ways off to school. Never took the time to beef up the security on my belly, so it happened four times. Now I'm pretty used to them, and they're pretty cute, so I'll let them stay. Actually, I recently let one go-kinda. She actually let me go. It's sad ya know-having her around for nineteen years, and then poof she's gone. Gone to Philly that is. It's only been a few weeks and I'm still getting used to it all. At least she only moved an hour away.

It's funny that when they are little you just assume that they will always 'need' you, and then they grow up. I knew I should have put her in the infamous shoe box my mother always talked about. Maybe if my cooking was better she would have stayed. I love when she comes to visit (ouch, that hurts to say that). She is, by far, my favorite visitor. My three year old follows her around when she's here and looks at her all starry eyed-like she's Dora The Explorer or something. That's really cool. I have great kids-not perfect, but great none the less.

Ahhh, me time. I have three and a half hours and I will work on my book today, once I quit procrastinating, of course. I'll finish this blog and then get to work. Really, I will. There is just really never enough time. And believe it or not I told the Pre-school today that I would volunteer one day a week. They are short these days and I thought it was the noble thing to do. Like I have the time.

Ya know everyone thinks that having babies is what gives us ladies our stretch marks, but it's really from being pulled in all the different direction that we are. There is a reason men don't have stretch marks. Think about it. I can be in the middle of fifty thousand things and my husband will be unstressing (yada, yada) and the kids, all at once, will need only me. But that's okay, because now I realize that one day they won't (ouch again). So I will cater, bend over backward (ex-gymnast), kiss nasty boo-boo's, wipe butts (only to the three year old), and give my entire heart to them. I know over the years they will do unbelievable things to it, in fact I still have the footprints on it from my oldest, but I forgive her. If my other three turn out half as good as my oldest I will have done a terrific job. So in the end (and the beginning, and the middle) it's all worth it.

Have a great day, unless of course you live here in Maryland where we're expecting 6 inches of the (we're so done with that) white stuff. I'll quote my eight-year-olds words of wisdom today, "Well even though we didn't want any more snow, Mommy, we should just have fun with it since it's here anyway." Spoken like a true third grader.

Thanks for stopping by my universe. It's all casual here so kick off your shoes, relax and enjoy your visit. Well my name is Wendy and I reside in Neverland with my bestest friend ever, Peterpan. Other than the green tights he's a pretty cool fellow. He did teach me to fly after all. Anyway, it's great to live in another place and time which is why I like to write stories.

The title of my [yet to be published] book is, are ya ready for this, I hope you like it. It's...it's...drum roll please...yes, bongos will do. These guys never get it right. Here we go if you can hear me through the dreaded Bongo noise in the background. It's LEMONADE FOR CHRISTMAS. Sound cool? Well it is cool. I love it. It's my fifth baby and one day I will send it out into that 'real world', away from the security of Neverland and it will hopefully find its way into your home.

The book is now in the process of revisions, and revisions, and revisions..... I figured starting a blog was another way to keep my baby home longer. Ahhh, what would we have if we didn't have diversions. I know-probably a completely revised published novel. Diversions feel so good though. They feel like a refreshing bubble bath after playing in the snow. Problem is most things that feel really good are not so good for you.

I could use excuses all day long, but the real truth of it is that I want this so bad. It's like the one chance you get at love, or that balance beam routine (longtime gymnast), or a spelling bee, or anything that ever meant so much that the use of your entire heart and head are involved. It's that important...the most important, other than your 'real babies' (alright, I'll throw in the Hubby too, for safe measure), that you could ever want.

So the real fear here is either it will never be good enough, or it just might one day be good enough to make it and where will that leave me? Who will that leave me? Would my life change? Would I no longer have A DREAM? What would I do with my kids (okay, Hubby too) when I do my twenty city tour?

Well thanks for listening. I looooooove listeners, and readers. Feel free to leave a comment and come by again soon. Occasionally I serve Cybertini's, usually apple-yum!