Literary Chocolate

A change

2008-01-08T18:30:00.000-08:00

I've become bored lately. Bored with this blog. It doesn't have the features I would like to use. It's plain. It's unfocused. And I think I need a change. In the next week or so, I believe I will leave this site and create a blog through another free blog site which offers more features and fun stuff. I would also like a little more anonymity. Okay . . . go ahead - laugh! I know. . . no one really reads this blog, anyway. A few of my friends have this link. If they visit I don't know about it. Do I care? I guess I shouldn't.

I suppose by writing anonymously, I won't have a reason to hold back. I can focus on my writing, which I plan to pursue more adamantly in the new year. That will be the focus of my new blog - writing creatively.

So, thanks for those that read. I do appreciate it. See you out there in cyberspace as I lurk around your sites.

To resolve or not to resolve?

2008-01-03T20:42:00.000-08:00

I ponder this every year. Should I make a resolution? I know I'm not going to keep it. For example, last year I resolved to not stress so much. Hmph! I know that I've not kept that one! What a joke! I'm stressing about something right now that has caused me to have nightmares for the past few nights and spend this morning crying.

And it's not just about being embarrassed if others know I have not kept my resolution. I think it's personally shaming even if I'm the only one who knows I have broke my resolution. Its a sense of defeat and failure. I have to think - why bother?

I've had many resolutions in the past. . .
2004 - Get published. (Ha! Unfulfilled.)
2005 - Stop eating so much chocolate. (I eat more now than ever!)
2006 - Exercise more. (Right!)
2007 - Stop stressing so much. (Never skipped a beat in my ever increasing panic attacks.)
2008 - drumroll . . . . . . . . be more organized in all areas of living.

I think specifically of our basement. What a task! We stayed home New Years Eve just to get a jump on it. It actually looks worse now that we've moved a few things around. It's been an albatross in our lives since our third year of marriage. We just accumulated things - magazines that we (my husband) can't throw away, bird houses that the squirrels chewed up, old high school trophies that our parents finally decided they needed to get rid of, a myriad of Christmas ornaments and wedding favors all collected over eight years of marriage. It's driving me out of my mind!

So, that's it. We'll see, with all the changes the new year will bring, if I can keep '08's resolution.

Christmas day

2007-12-24T20:56:00.000-08:00

It's four minutes before Christmas day. I just returned home from the 10pm church service, and I'm now watching A Christmas Story. As I sit here on our cat-clawed couch, I'm having a flash back. This movie conjures up specific Christmas memories for me. Maybe it's the oldness of it all, the worn carpet on the stairs, the bad gifts or Christmas shared with a sibling, but suddenly I'm 12 years old, watching Christmas lights from the back of a gold Oldsmobile. I'm asleep before we make it home, and I stumble out of the car and into blackness. The house smells like Christmas - pine tree, tape, wrapping paper and cookies.

My brother and I share a room - his room. I'm on the cot and he takes the bed. We talk for what seems like hours about what we might get the next morning, anticipating daybreak so we can jump out of bed and wake mom and dad.

I miss those days. I wish I could reminisce with my brother but he's not here anymore. He died at age 33 - same age I am now. Seems weird.

My prayers always include gratitude for my childhood, a brother whom I will always cherish, who provided memories I would not have otherwise had. And although he has been gone for almost three years now and life has moved on, I know that I will one day see him again because of Christmas day. Because of the baby Jesus who came to lived among us as fully God and fully man and gave His life for us at age 33 so that we can have eternal life.

I'll see my brother again. For that, I'm eternally grateful.

Giving

2007-12-09T10:19:00.000-08:00

One of my blog buddies - www.keeperofthechocolates.blogspot.com has recently reminded us all what's most important. That is, to love those around us by giving. To care for the widowed and orphans. While it's an excellent thing to give all year round, let's especially be reminded of this at Christmas. Instead of complaining about the Reindeer sweater we got from Aunt Nancy or the turkey dinner that's too dry to swallow, let's be thankful for our blessings and remember others. Choose an organization and give! What a wonderful thing to do!

My friend suggests World Vision (www.worldvision.org). My husband and I give to Compassion (www.compassion.com) by supporting a little girl in Ethiopia. Honestly, it's one of the best, most important things I do in my life.

So, visit the above blog site or one of the many charity organizations and make a difference!

Birthday

2007-12-06T18:18:00.001-08:00

My birthday was this week. Wednesday, Dec. 5th, to be exact. I'm now 33. I have this thing about birthdays. I'm always grumpy on my birthday, a little tense. Worried something bad will happen, that my day won't proceed in a perfect fashion. I've been like this since I was . . . well, since I was one! There's too much pressure!! It's my special day!!! What if it's not "special?"

When we were kids, I would get upset if my brother got more presents than me. (We shared a birthday week.) It didn't matter if my one gift cost ten times his five. I would throw a fit and pout in a corner.

When I got older, the fits just manifested themselves in different ways. I have a best friend - Ashley. She always calls me on my birthday. Has done this since we were 14. I think it was my 16th birthday when she called to say "Happy Birthday!!" I said, "Happy Birthday to you, too - I mean. . uhhhh." I was upset at myself for the rest of the day because I had stupidly said "Happy Birthday" back. And with that, my special day was ruined.

So, when I say that I'm just happy I didn't get a parking ticket or crash my car on my birthday, you'll understand why.

Falling out

2007-11-24T18:16:00.001-08:00

I want to shave my head and get it over with! I don't know what's going on, but all I know is that I've stopped following my every other day hair washing routine because handfuls upon handfuls of my hair have been filling my shower drain for the past month. I'm afraid to wash my hair anymore. It's coming out in gobbs! I'm freaking out!

In an effort to maintain a few strands of hair I went to my local GNC and bought biotin shampoo and biotin vitamins, both of which have helped none! Now, strangely my hair loss is barely visible, but I know it and it bothers me.

I'm guessing my hair loss is due to either a hormonal change, a change of seasons (which seems unlikely since I've experienced fall before) or a delayed reaction to the illness I had from August to September in which I ate only peanut butter and pita bread while in Egypt.

I'm calling my doctor for blood tests on Monday. Any other suggestions?

Lead infestation

2007-11-09T12:40:00.000-08:00

Lead. It's everywhere these days. I just don't get it. How does this happen? First it's our toys; things our precious little ones put in their mouths. They teeth on them, they love them, and they trust us to keep them safe and healthy. What are we to do?

Now it's in our lipstick. I was shocked to learn that L'Oreal - my favorite lipstick - has high amounts of lead in their lipstick and it can cause infertility. Is this why I'm infertile? I've worn lipstick for many years, only having a sneaking suspicion that it could contain something reproductive prohibiting. But, I dismissed this gnawing feeling, not wanting to be too paranoid as I had already examined every facet of my life from night light (light coming into your bedroom at night) to soy-laden foods to cleaning products. When watching the news report on lead-laden lipstick, I discovered that it was only present in red lipstick. Still not comforting.

Another report came out this morning on a particular Curious George doll that has been recalled due to lead paint on the face. Not "Curious George!" I thought. I have all the Curious George books and several Curious George dolls I plan on passing down to my children someday.

As we prepare to adopt our child, I am mentally preparing for war. What kind of toys will I give my children? Will I have to make them myself? Or should I go to a special store? I know there are special toy stores out there. Hmmmmm. . . . These are options.

Autumn glory

2007-10-30T17:58:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhh . . . fall. It's my favorite time of year. I step out onto the back porch and into my crunchy yard, full of color and life. The sleepy fires from cozy houses seem to wrap their warmth around me like a soft blanket. I'm ready to sit by an imaginary fire with a good book and some hot chocolate. But, who has time? Although our lives are hectic, I have found some time to take a walk or stand in the Autumn rays in my backyard. I thought I would just share a few images from my small corner of the universe.

Berries cascading over my back fence.

(Top) Libby, posing pretty in the backyard.
(Above) Charlotte, playing with a leave she brought into the house.

(Top) Shovel and leaves leaning lazily against our fence. I just thought this was pretty, peaceful somehow.
(Above) Three pumpkins and some mums. Just something I saw on my walk. I love fall decorations.

Idling

2007-10-22T17:12:00.000-07:00

So, I'm reading this book, Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. I especially needed the chapter I read today. I had a rough day. I interpreted for a cranky, persistently blunt client. As he told me of my shortcomings, I gave him a weak, over the counter, kiss my *** smile. He got to me. And with that, my day was ruined. I began to bemoan my present situation. Various personal matters and disatisfactions played across my mind.

What do I REALLY want to be when I grow up?

Why am I in this career anyway? What am I doing?? I need some creativity in my life.

When is life going to slow down? Why can't I get my house clean?

What does God really want me to do with my life? Am I living with purpose?

And will I make a good mother (as we look towards adoption)?

I had a lengthy amount of time -2 hours- between that unpleasant job and the next. I drove to the University where I was to interpret a rather difficult class. I needed the extra time and it was a beautiful fall day. So, I took out my Velvet Elvis and sat on a bench outside.

I began to read. "We have to sit still and stare out the window and let the engine come to an idle." He suggests. He had a point. I thought for a moment. I don't idle - at all. I'm on all the time. Full speed. I'm exhausted and I can't think anymore. I'm cranky.

He goes on to say, "Your job is the relentless pursuit of who God has made you to be."

Whoa.

I put down my book and stared at the red and white flowers that made a circle in front of the park benches. The bees buzzed, circling and the white butterflies mingled quietly. How often do I do this? Hardly ever. I closed my eyes and let the sun warm my entire body, forgetting about skin cancer and career choices; rude clients and my own incompetence. Afterall, if I don't idle, how will I know what God has made me to be? I won't be able to hear his voice.

God Bless America!

2007-09-20T11:28:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in a Coptic church on a hard pew. Strange noises surround me, something like chanting or singing. I'm not sure. Incense swirls around me, overtaking me, making me nauseous. And I have diarrhea. It's not the kind of diarrhea that sends you running to the nearest toilet. No, it's the kind that makes no announcement. It simply arrives. I'm dying.

"We should go to Egypt." My husband says. Although he is of Egyptian descent, he has never been, and this might just be the best time to go before he starts college for his second masters. I agree. I'm excited. I've never wanted to go, but why not! Sure, we just got back from Europe, but seize the day, right? Be adventurous!

My too long stint in Egypt has been chalked up to an "experience." I'm grateful for the opportunity - don't get me wrong. Hey- I can say I've been to Africa!! My passport has the stamp to prove it! Kinda cool.

But, let me tell you. This place did not agree with me. I think I'm allergic to Africa. No joke! I was careful not to drink the water, but that didn't prevent the vomiting or the diarrhea that arrived every other day.

I didn't think I'd have a problem with the culture. I mean, I've experienced it for ten years now. I've been in my husband's family for that long. But, my in-laws are American-Egyptian. The way they cook has been adjusted to healthy living. However, it seems that Egypt doesn't have a grasp on healthy living yet. Tons of butter is used in their food. Lots of fat is good. Organic - what's that? "Eat! Eat!" They tell me. I don't want to.

In their beautiful malls you will see "no smoking" signs and directly below that you will find people bolding smoking. And a few feet away you will notice a security guard looking the other way. It's really infuriating!

They don't have emission laws so it's hard to get a clean breath over there. It also doesn't rain one single day in the summer so the air is filled with dust, not to mention every surface you touch.

Laws are not enforced, especially traffic laws. It's a "me first" mentality. I can't tell you how many times I noticed people going the wrong way on a highway, and sometimes I was in that car (or taxi) going the wrong way.

With all this said, I'm grateful to be home. To see the vivid colors and beautiful contrasts in nature. To breathe clean air - even the clear air of New Jersey!! I'm happy to have laws and see them enforced. To be in a quieter, less chaotic environment. Thank you, God!!

Czech Republic and beyond

2007-07-30T11:05:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm finally back from my never-ending trip (with church youth group to Czech Republic). Really - that was a long trip! The first part of it went by quickly enough. We stayed in host family homes. Stayed with people who spoke little to no English. It was interesting. We learned their culture, spent time with their families and ate their food. The food, by the way, is all deep fried. Yep, just what a granola girl likes! I was dying. They also expect you to eat everything they serve you. I thought I was going to explode.
During the first few days, we spent time with the gypsie kids. Every morning we would walk from house to house in the little village and invite kids to come play and listen to the Americans. Our youth group did a great job sharing their hearts, their personalities and their musical talents. The gypsie kids loved the American kids. It was quite entertaining to watch, really. They liked to jump on us.
We also helped run a basketball clinic, visited two nursing homes and one refugee camp, each time sharing how God has touched our lives. It felt good to think about someone else for awhile, to be focused on a common goal - to share the love of Christ with these people and to encourage them. I needed this time to focus on what was important in life, to get away from the rat-race.
The last three days we spent site-seeing. We spent a few days in beautiful Prague. I loved the cobble stone streets, the Charles bridge and Prague castle. Berlin was just amazing because of all the historical aspects. I was able to see the Berlin Wall which really fascinated me.
The train ride from Prague to Berlin included a crazy woman screaming at us in German. A passenger said, "She says she is going to throw your bags off the train unless you move them now. Welcome to Germany." In our haste to locate our bags (because we had to move them to all different locations on the train), some of our youth group kids got stuck on the train as the doors closed. I stood there in horror, watching the doors close and the sad little faces of our teens staring back at us. After a tense moment, the doors were opened and our kids were free. But, one girl left her passport on the train which would almost delay my and my husbands' return on the scheduled day. However, by some miracle, we were able to get her emergency passport in less than two hours on the day we were to leave.
When we were finally home, I just wanted to kiss the ground. Really! After being on a plane for some crazy amount of time, eating deep fried crap for too long and not getting enough sleep, it was time to be home! But, I'm still so glad I went. It was a fabulous experience. I just wish I could get over my jet lag now.

Distractions of life

2007-07-06T17:33:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. I haven't been here in awhile. It's not like I have adoring fans awaiting the next drop of literary wisdom streaming from my fingers. Ha! But, I do enjoy creative writing or random thought writing and it's been suffocating to be hindered in that department.

I started an interpreter training program in January. I loved it! It was stimulating and challenging. Unfortunately, it consumed all of my time. I gave up, eating, sleeping, marriage, breathing and . . . pretty much everything. Okay, it wasn't that bad, but it was really intense. I, therefore, ceased to continue my writing or my blogging. Instead, I found this little thing called MySpace. Heard of it? It doesn't require much attention and it's fun.

Now that the summer is here and I have a little more time, I am trying to get back to that thing called, "Life." Whatever that means.

I resolve to . . .

2007-01-02T19:47:00.000-08:00

"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing." - Abraham Lincoln

When I think of New Year's resolutions I think of some great endeavor you aim to accomplish, some personal flaw you determine to correct, something you want to really try hard at knowing that it's quite possible you might fail. It's daunting really. I never use to make resolutions, but I thought this year would be different.

I resolve to stop my incessant stressing. That's right! I aim to stop caring what people think. To stop taking personal the slightest disagreeable expression on a cashier's face. To not change my outfit ten times before leaving the house. To cease any activity that causes me ulcers such as this blog (if it gets to that point). I resolve to have "me" time - take bubble baths, read books and write poetry. To read my Bible and meditate more often. To stop feeling guilty for the things I felt I should have done, but had no time. I aim to wave and smile when someone cuts me off in traffic (okay, maybe that's going a little too far). Whatever it is I have to do, I resolve to breathe easy and eliminate that tight knot that resides right under my rib cage. I want to RELAX!!

On the eve of sanity

2006-12-24T21:11:00.000-08:00

Well, I've almost made it. I've almost crossed the holiday finish line. I've fought my way through crowded stores, planned and survived two birthday parties for my husband which were held at our house (thanks, hon', for being born on Christmas Eve!), retrieved new addresses and updated my Christmas card list, sent Christmas cards, argued with grumpy store clerks, baked cookies for Christmas parties, sent bulk of Christmas gifts to my family in Florida and believed the postal clerk when he said that they would arrive before Christmas and waited on pins and needles until they arrived at the last minute! And finally, I read Isaiah 9:6 at our Christmas Eve service - "For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" with as much enthusiasm as a Sunday afternoon yawn (or so I felt it seemed). I was too worried about tripping over words that I very carefully formed each word with not so much as a smile on my face. It should have been joyously delivered. I wanted another try, but the moment had passed and I had returned to my seat.

Why has life become one big to-do list, distracted by the holiday rush? Has even Christmas lost it's meaning and excitement? The anticipation of Christmas programs and fellowshipping with others, the wonder in childrens' eyes, the fun in finding that perfect gift, the beautiful carols that echo the wonder of baby Jesus born in a manger. Yet, I find my purse littered with various scraps of paper -
1. Bake cookies.
2. Pick up cake.
3. Must send gifts tomorrow!!!
4. Call Jenni!
5. Send cards!!
6. Get the Smiths' new address!!!

I'm stressed and distracted!! And to top things off, I discover that my Florida packages did indeed arrive, but damaged! I resolved to never send my own packages. Everything will be ordered on-line next year.

Why must it be like this? As the dust settles and the big day has arrived, I realize what a great place I am in life. Just two years ago we weren't in the best of situations. Our lives have tremendously improved. As we ate out for my husband's birthday tonight, we reflected on all that we have to be thankful for. And yet, I had squandered such a beautiful Christmas season. I had stressed and not focused on the reason for the season.

Next year things will be different. I will make more time to pray and reflect on God's goodness to me. I will stop to thank Him more for the glorious gift He has given us in his Son. I will realize that even if my cards do not get delivered on time and my packages are lost in the mail, it doesn't matter in the light of my many blessings and joys. I will relax in the Good News that I have a Savior - Jesus Christ. That is all that matters.

The Invasion

2006-11-10T19:20:00.000-08:00

I am literally freaking out right now. Hyperventilating, rapid heart beat, tears kind of freaking out. I'm losing my ever-lovin' mind! My cats know something is up. They've rallied around me to see what mom is up to.

I noticed the unusual scampering when I left this evening for the gym. Just three or four of them, but they were too close to the house. This was unacceptable. When I returned from the gym, I tiptoed up to the back door (where we normally enter our house) and saw slithers of tails, patches of grass moving and heard the squeaks of many . . .you guessed it - MICE! Not only were there mice, but there were RATS! I am in hell.

I paced the floor. What to do? What to do? As long as they don't actually come up on our back porch, perhaps I'll be fine. So, I take a look out the window and there sits a rat, comfortably perched right at my back door, planning his leap into my garbage can. In fact, if I had opened the door at that moment I would have launched him right into the tasty feast he was eyeing.

As I watch from my door window, I can see the white plastic garbage bag doing a dance - moving this way and that as a rather fat mouse (rat?) chews his way into oblivion. I decide some sort of action must be taken. I text messaged my husband, who is out of town for the weekend. I have not yet received a reply. So, I call him only to get his voice mail. I tell myself just to breathe. I run through a hardly existent list of people I could call. But, seeing as we just moved here, I don't know anyone's number.

Locating the church directory among a heap of papers, I call the Jr. High pastor. No answer. I dial the Senior Pastor. No answer. I'm hyperventilating. Even if I did reach them, what would I say? "Help - I've got rats and they're taking over"?

I finally decide to call my dad whom I can tell has been asleep for at least an hour. Rat poison, he suggests, in his stupor. Yes, but I can't get that until tomorrow! It's 10pm!! What will I do until then? Surely I can't sleep. Not when I know they may be digging a hole through my wall to eat my kitties!! (Yes, I know -cats are suppose to eat mice, but I'm afraid they may overtake my cats because there are so many of them and really - I don't want my cats eating some diseased rodent.)

I hang up with my dad and realize my only weapon is ice. Yes, ice. I fill a plastic cup with large ice cubes and crack the door, barely fitting my arm through the narrow opening. My aim is not too good, and only the last cube makes it into the garbage can. You are probably asking yourself, what was she intending to do with those ice cubes? Well. . . knock them all out of course!

I hear voices. I notice that there are people in the church parking lot only a few feet away. Someone leaning into a car window, chatting. They'll help me! I exit my front door - where I know there are no rodents, or at least I'm hoping - and walk out into the street and around the perimeter of our house, careful not to get too close to the rat infested area. I reach the parking lot, and it's dark. Everyone is gone.

There is nothing more for me to do but to blog. My strategy for tomorrow? I plan on removing the garbage can from the side of the house, but not before I chuck some more ice cubes in there to get rid of the greedy rodents who didn't get their fill during the night. Then, I'm buying a gun.

Pay raise Part II

2006-10-28T19:13:00.000-07:00

I waited, silently wishing that he wouldn't show up. I inched closer to the outside wall where the sun spilled onto green benches from large windows and automatic doors, searching for a signal. I leaned against the cold wall and tapped on my phone, checking my e-mail. My student was late as usual, knowing that the role was not called until ten minutes after class had started. That suited me just fine, giving me enough time to get my messages.

I scrolled through a few insignificant messages, spam and what not, and then my eyes landed on the following message: "Samantha, I would like to set up a meeting to discuss your concerns. Please let me know when you are available."

Gulp. I hadn't anticipated a face to face meeting. Instead I expected a dry, straight forward e-mail stating the schools' case and how my expectations and desires were not going to be honored. Or, I expected no e-mail at all. All I knew is that when I sent that letter - very professional and non-emotional (the longer, more elaborate version, by the way) - I did not expect this. I felt as if I had been called into the principal's office.

Soon after my student strolled into class and I had done my job, I found a computer where I could more quickly type out my sentiments. "Sure." I replied. "I would be happy to meet with you. Here is my availability. . ."

Perhaps I sounded a little too eager, a little too chipper, but I wanted to make it clear that I was not preparing for a heated confrontation.

I waited for a day. Two days. A week. Nothing. Then, one day a client didn't show up to class. I HAD to go to my boss's office to report the absence and find out where else she would like me to go, that being the protocol when you have an absence.

"While you're here" she says, "we can talk." Gulp.

"Oh, yeah! Sure! Love to." Gulp.

She makes small talk and eventually we get down to business. My anger and frustration with the situation having been diffused, I no longer care what her reasons are for retracting a portion of the pay raise.

She makes her case. She isn't the one responsible for deciding how much we get paid. She is overwhelmed with her position as she is doing two peoples' jobs and she accidentally wrote the wrong amount on our contracts. New contracts are on their way. I begin to feel sorry for her.

I expressed my feelings of frustration with the system, my suspicion that my abilities were not being taken seriously or appreciated and however, that I was still happy to have some kind of raise. Before I left I did my best to assure her that I was happy to work here, and I did not still harbor any ill feelings about the situation.

So, the pay raise retraction still stood. I wasn't getting any favors.

I figured after such a meeting, I needed to relax a bit. I called the nail salon and made an appointment for two at 5:45. Mani and pedi. My friend, Lily, got off work, and we headed to Lina's Nails. We had talked about doing this for awhile, and since I was also flying to Florida for the weekend, it seemed a good time to plan such pampering.

In our area there are numerous nail salons. I could have chosen any, but his was my nail salon of choice because of the great service and low prices. However, I was in walking distance of approximately five other nail salons. So, you'll imagine my surprise as I walked into Lina's and saw my boss at the nearest manicure table. The same lady I just sat with discussing my concerns about money.

We stared at each other and smiled. I'm thinking, I just saw you an hour ago. What the-? Why this salon?!

"Hi."

"Hi."

(me) "Ummmm. . . .wow, what are you doing here? Well, of course, you are getting your nails done . . . but wow - you're here. Ummmmm. . . this is my friend, Lily. This is a lady I work with. . .well, good to see you. Funny." Nervous giggle.

Of all the nail places she could have gone, she chose this one!!! I'm floored. I make my way to the pedicure chair, all the while thinking how ironic it must seem that I am getting my nails done when I just expressed disdain at an insufficient pay raise. I feel like a fool.

Pay raise

2006-10-09T17:12:00.000-07:00

I opened the envelope expecting a check. Instead, I was met with something much better. A letter from one of the colleges I work for stating that all interpreters were receiving a pay raise across the board. Because I do not have any state or national certifications yet, I am at the bottom rung receiving a $10 an hour raise as opposed to my more skilled and credentialed colleagues who received a $15 an hour raise. So be it! I'll take the $10 raise.

I waited a day, reading carefully over all the points in the contract, then signed it and happily sent it on it's way. Finally, I was receiving my due payment for a job well done! Because the original hourly rate was the lowest pay rate in the area, I was ecstatic to finally be closer to par with the rest of the interpreting world.

A few days later, I receive yet another skinny white envelope with one brief letter which stated, "I am sorry to inform you but all interpreters who are not state or nationally screened will not be paid the previous pay raise, but rather will be paid X amount ($5/hr less)." That was it. No explanation. No new contract. Nothing.

Immediately, my blood begin to boil. You would think I would be grateful for just the $5/hr raise, but I felt cheated. I felt disrespected. Someone was breaking their vow with me and I didn't like it!

I read the letter to my husband and voiced my frustration.

"What should I do? I should e-mail 'so and so', shouldn't I?"

"No, you can't e-mail her right now! Just wait! Think about it. You can't e-mail someone while you're mad."

He was right. So I went to bed and stared at the ceiling while I fumed. And I thought about it for two days. I had signed a contract, hadn't I? Yes, I had. I am entitled to the $10/hr raise. Yes, yes I am.

So, tonight I have drafted two e-mails. One, the brief version basically stating "You will honor the contract that both you and I have signed." And the other one a more elaborate version of the first stating the same idea with a little more fluff such as "Let me remind you that I am screened in other states, etc." When my husband gets home I'll read both to him and hopefully he can help me decide which is most professional and direct without being rude and burning bridges.

Am I confronting this issue in the right manner? I don't know. I believe I should stand up for myself, and if the outcome is unsatisfactory, I can always choose not to contract with them for next semester.

The Interlude

2006-10-05T08:56:00.000-07:00

I don't speak to old friends much on the phone. No, instead we choose to keep in touch from afar through e-mail. I learn of pregnancies, births, changes in locations, phone numbers, and e-mail addresses, about successes and, unfortunately, deaths in this manner. Last night was one of those nights where I received such an e-mail.

A friend I grew up with, and who recently moved to the New England area, drafted a mass e-mail sharing of some heart breaking news. She explained that her dog, Lenny, was attacked and killed by another dog yesterday while outside to do "his business." She stated that it was quick, but he looked pretty bad. It broke my heart when I read, "Lenny was like my child. I'm not taking this well." My friend went on to request that no cards, e-mails or phone calls be made to her regarding the incident. However, she strongly asked for A LOT OF PRAYER. She closed by repeating that no cards or e-mails be sent and no phone calls made to her.

I was expecting company at any minute. My husband had invited a few people (which turned into many people) over for a LOST party (you know - the tv show). Knowing that I would soon have to be up on my feet and cheery, I fought back tears and put my head in my hands, then on my desk.

It seems weird to some, even ridiculous to mourn a pet so intensely. Perhaps that's because they've either never had a pet or they've never had one they love. I suppose that the reason this morbid bit of news affected me so is because I could feel her pain. I haven't lost a pet in such a horrific manner, but I, too, love my pets as if they were my children. I don't have children so all my affections are showered upon these two fur balls as if they were little people. I couldn't imagine some horrible creature (dog or stray cat) fiercly ending my furbaby's life and me not being able to do a darn thing about it. The thought of it turns my stomach.

It was still on my mind when I woke up this morning, while I ate breakfast and while I drove to my hair appointment. I prayed for my friend during the car ride and then later when I spent some quiet time with God. I wondered why such painful sorrow exists in the world. Why needless losses are suffered everyday. And as I pondered, I opened up my devotional book (Streams in the Desert) and a sentence caught my attention. It read, "The woe and the waste and the tears of life belong to the interlude and not to the finale." The interlude. Yes, for whatever reason that evil must exist on this earth, it is only for a short time. This is not the finale. Perhaps this doesn't lend much comfort to those that are hurting. But, to me, thoughts and meditations such as that, snippets of biblical wisdom were a great deal of comfort when I lost my brother last year to a very unneccesary accident. To know that this tremendous void will someday end, gave me a sense of peace in the midst of my pain.

I often wondered why God allows certain tragedies to happen, like a friend of mine who lost her baby in her fifth month of pregnancy. She had to give birth and hold her little guy in her arms. She then put him in a box to be cremated which now sits on her mantle at home. Why?

I have at least five friends that have experienced painful divorces; friends that are depressed, family members that are sick, those that want desperately to have a baby but can't. And why? Does God use our pain in some way to teach us? As my husband once tried to explain to me, "God did not do this 'to you', Sam. He allowed it to happen. And God uses those tragedies to grow us."

This is the interlude, not the finale.

It helps to know that whatever my loss, God knows my pain. He doesn't leave me in anguish. He reassures me that we're only passing through, and that He'll give us strength for the journey. I'm looking forward to the finale.

Nothing

2006-09-26T20:35:00.000-07:00

Well, I've had no time to write lately. So, in lieu of having no time to say something interesting, I'm going to say nothing in particular.

It's 11:30 - about an hour and a half passed my bedtime. I just got back from a friend's house where we enjoyed brie, cheap wine and rich dark chocolate while watching Ten Things I Hate About You. Needless to say, my eyes are quite tired, but I'm unable to sleep due to the caffeine. I'm thinking about heating up some milk and heading to bed.

Life is busy and it seems as if the leaves are going to change color early. I like that. Crisp mornings curl into breezy afternoons where leaves swirl on college sidewalks. I hear that by this weekend it will be in the low 60's for a high. I'm lovin' it!

The most exciting thing that has happened to me lately is that I have received my new cell phone. It's a complicated gadget that grabs my interest for an hour here or there, making me almost late to class as I punch in a cell phone number, thumb in a date on my calendar or take a picture of a squirrel munching on a nut. My husband has the same phone (Treo 700) so he's been teaching me the ropes. I'm terribly intrigued with this small but thick piece of metal and plastic.

And despite my inability to correctly sign the word Ruwanda - still not sure if I'm spelling that right - and the fact that I can not effectively hear and keep up with the African-French heavily accented professor who speaks so fast I swear it is a different language, I am still ordering my business cards that clearly spell out my profession SIGN LANGUAGE INTERPRETER. This makes me giddy.

And that is my life as of now. I'm ready to stumble to bed, but not before I get a tall glass of milk. . . and perhaps read a bit of the latest book I have happened upon - Dead Wife Walking. Don't worry - I didn't buy it. One of the professors I interpret for has written and published this thin book of angst, and I couldn't resist the urge to ask her for a signed copy which she happily gave me. Weird bit of literature.

When I grow up

2006-09-08T18:26:00.000-07:00

I had many dreams about what I would be when I grew up. A teacher, nurse, secretary, house wife, mother. Mainly I dreamed of being a writer. Oddly enough, I didn't really consider becoming a sign language interpreter.

I began my first day of work at the college this week. As usual, I was running later than I had wanted. I flew out the back door while my kitty looked on with confusion. "Where's my breakfast, mom?" I made a call to my husband on the way asking him to feed the children.

I knew I had a 20 minute drive which would have put me there on time, but I wanted to arrive early to find the deaf education office, pick up my badge and find my first class. I pulled into the school driveway only to be met by a long line of cars that snaked it's way into the parking lot. I wasn't prepared for this. But, God knew I needed a break and I quickly found a spot in the farthest galaxies while everyone else slowly putted around to find the closest spot.

Making my way up the geese poop scattered walkway, I noticed a grand similarity to my high school. Students looked as if they had just rolled out of bed, forced to pursue an education they no longer cared to attain. They threw on their only clean clothes - camouflaged pants, wife beater and flip flops. Girls put a little more thought into their appearance wearing their shortest, tightest ripped jean skirt, shirts that boasted such sayings as, "Don't feed the models" or "Made you look" splayed aross large chests in sparkley rhinestones. They looked bored, confused and lost.

As I held my breath behind a whirl of cigarette smoke and the faint odor of pot in the distance, I had to empathize with them slightly. I too feel a little confused and lost. What do I want to be when I grow up? Do I really know?

During my first class the thought crosses my mind, "What am I doing? I could get my masters in English and then be an English professor. I mean, how hard can it be?" I looked out over the faces of the few that had decided to make it to class this first day of school. They didn't look intimidating at all. I could do this! I could be an English professor!

By the second day, I will have realized as I clumsily walk in front of a rather large class, fascinated by my Sign Language Interpreter badge and the screeching chair I pull awkwardly across the floor, that there is no way I could stand in front of a room full of gaping know-it-alls, full of themselves and ready to criticize. I abort mission on my plans to enroll in a NY university next fall.

The realization is, those who know what they want to be when they grow up are quite the lucky ones. They are rare. Or should I say, those who know what they want to do and do it are quite rare? I think that is more accurate.

RID test results

2006-08-29T17:43:00.000-07:00

My husband didn't notice the gasp that escaped me as he continued his conversation. I was trying to listen - I really was! But, as I spotted the envelope with the blue circular emblem on the coffee table, I knew nothing else. It was just me and the envelope, the envelope that held my destiny.

I'm a sign language interpreter that has entered through the 'back door', so to speak. I didn't attend an interpreter training program. I just learned through a few classes and some deaf friends. And here I am - interpreting for a living!

It's been a struggle because I don't have the paper stating my worthiness. You see, if you don't have a degree in interpreting, you're not a CODA (child of a deaf adult) and you're not certified, well then. . . you're not worthy!

So, it has been my endeavor to become nationally certified. I took the test last May and have been trying to forget it ever since. It's an extremely difficult test, but I thought I tried my best and was happy with that. And now it seems as though this simple piece of paper has been carelessly tossed onto the coffee table, my husband unaware of it's importance.

He continued to talk and I waited patiently.
"My sister. . new car. . .Thursday. . . Yankees. . .Manhattan. . . want to go?"

"Sure, yeah. Sounds great." I pick up the envelope and finger the edges deciding I will open it upstairs where he can't witness my pain, but before I know it I'm tearing into it. I read quickly but intently, scanning for the main point of the letter. Did I pass?

"We deeply appreciate your patience. . ." (doesn't sound good so far) ". . . rated by an approved team of trained raters. . .Your videotape was DEEMED NOT TO MEET THE ESTABLISHED COMPETENCY LEVEL NECESSARY TO AWARD CERTIFICATION." (caps added by me) They might as well have written, "You are not worthy to exist on this planet, but thank you for coming."

Gasp. Sound of heart wrenching and stomach digesting itself.

Okay, I shouldn't be too shocked at this point. Afterall, I didn't think I was ready to take the test yet. Then, I continue to read . . .

Ratings are on scales of Low, Moderate and High.
My ratings were as follows in all eight categories: LOW

I don't know what to do with myself so I put down the letter and go clean the kitchen. Okay, rethink, Sam. What are you going to do with your life? Go back to school? Change careers? Steal someone else's baby and be a stay at home mom? Hmmmm. . .

I check my e-mail and end up contacting all my interpreting buddies for advice. Everything seems to echo LOW. My battery icon pops up LOW battery. My wireless icon reads signal strength LOW. I decide to go to bed to sleep my misery away.

The next morning, I'm still alive and it wasn't all a dream. I wipe the sleepy crust from my eyes and mope through the house in my hangover of self pity. I decide something has to be done to pamper myself, forget my woes. But, what to do? My usual self soothing strategies include cutting my hair, getting a tattoo, eating chocolate or shopping. (Of course, chocolate is a given!)

Since my hair is already too short and my husband would kill me if I got another tattoo, I decide to go shopping! And there's no place I'd rather be on a rainy day than Barnes and Noble. Before I head out the door, I unwrap a piece of dove dark chocolate and pop it in my mouth. The wrapper reads, "Test your own limits and keep going." Hmph.

I enter the beautiful utopia of books and magazines, coffee churning in a far corner. I'm in heaven! I love this place. It's the most self soothing place I could be.

I locate the travel section and am delighted to find The Little Black Book of New York. Oh my gosh! It's got all the information you need to get around in NY, including nine fold out maps! I pick it up and while I'm reading Where to Shop in Midtown, I hear, "I GAVE YOU A TWENTY AND TWO DIMES!!!!!!! I DID!!!! I SWEAR ON MY CHILDREN'S LIVES!!!! (Sob, gasp) PLEASE! I CAN'T TAKE THIS!!!!! IT'S NOT FAIR!!!!" (sob)

I peak behind a row of books and feel guilty for staring, but how could you not? I hear the cashier say, "Mam, I'm calling the manager. Just calm down."

"NO, I WON'T CALM DOWN!!!! YOU KNOW THAT I GAVE YOU A TWENTY!!!" Sobs woman in mental distress. I consider that maybe she has Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder, she's menopausal or perhaps she has postpartum depression.

A young Asian man walks by me. "Cry baby." He sniffs.
"Don't say that!" I protest, but not loud enough. Although, I have never had a complete mental break down in public, I sympathize slightly with her because I've felt that crazy before. I just didn't vent it to a room full of snobby book worms.

I decide to take my merchandise to the back of the store and peruse the calendar section and various books I don't intend to buy - just in case she has a gun. If she did, I have no doubt she would have used it. So, I hide.

Amongst all the chaos, I realize that maybe my life isn't so bad. So what! I failed a test! I can always take it again. I'm just glad I have my mental faculties in place, and I'm not experiencing a meltdown in front of judgmental strangers.

I continue from there to the mall where I buy the quintessential black dress and some socks from the gap. Ahhhhh. . . feeling better already. Yes, life is not that bad.

A warning for pet owners

2006-08-27T17:12:00.000-07:00

We have a beautiful fenced in yard at our new house and from time to time our sweet little kitties are let outside for some supervised play time. They love to chew on the grass and hop along the bottom edge of the fence looking for a hole by which they could escape.

Our neighbors, who have a dog, have advised us that our area is prone to ticks. Their dog will return home after a period of romping in the woods with a few ticks. So, they have taken precautions and used a squeeze on gel that you put between the shoulder blades of your pet.

Although my cats only walk in the well mowed lawn of our backyard and do not romp through the woods, I thought it would still be a good idea to take protective measures.

I went to our local PetSmart with a list of kitty needs, one of which was flea and tick protection. I perused the unfamiliar aisles until I found the overabundant selection of flea collars, gels and sprays. Finally, I picked up two - one organic and one not organic. Holding up the two boxes, I inspected their labels for ingredients and usage. It was in this stance that I stood for the next fifteen minutes until a salesman came over and asked if I needed help. He must have seen my confusion or perhaps he thought I was trying to shoplift. I'm not sure.

After much discussion, he assured me the organic would be fine if that was my preference, that it was safe and that it should perform the same as the nonorganic product. I bought the organic (Sentry Natural Defense).

A few days later, at around 10:30 at night, I decided it was time to apply the squeeze-on gel to my little sweeties. My husband held kitty number one while I parted the hair and squeezed. At first, she jerked and soon after bolted through the house like she was on fire. I watched in horror as she licked herself and jumped around, tongue hanging out.

This is where I'm not too smart, but I thought - what one cat gets, the other cat gets. We grabbed baby number two and in the same way, applied the fiery gel to her back. Likewise, she ran through the house, tail twitching, eyes bulging, tongue hanging out.

We watched the two of them, out of control, as they experienced the torture we inflicted upon them. As we watched, their suffering increased. They were panting, racing around, hiding, licking, jumping and drooling. My heart broke to watch my two little ones in such pain! I had no choice but to call the emergency number on the Sentry box. The operator asked me about their symtpoms and instructed me to drain the juice from a tuna can, dilute it with water and let them drink it. Well, as someone who hates seafood, I had no tuna in my pantry.

Not much is open at 11pm except our local CVS store. I walked frantically into the store and asked the closest clerk, "Do you sell tuna?"

"Oh, yes. It's in aisle 14a." He replied.

You've got to be kidding me! CVS sells tuna? I offered a quick thank you to God that I didn't have to drive all over town to find a store that was open after hours and sold tuna. I drove like mad back home and quickly did as the operator had told me.

Our kitties loved it! And I have to say, it did work quite well. However, I still saw how frustrated they were everytime they licked their backs. (They can reach quite far. Flexible little critters they are!) After about another hour, I decided I had to do something. I had to give them a bath.

Now, if you've ever tried to bathe a cat, you know that it doesn't work. Cats don't like water. It's not like I didn't know this. I just didn't think it would be so hard.

I shut the bathroom door, got a pitcher, pulled back the curtain, grabbed the closest cat and prepared for a battle. She was strong, but I was stronger - or should I say 'smarter'? When she had clawed her way out of the bathtub for the sixth time, I decided to move the rug and pour water over her on the floor.

Once both of them had their bath, were towel dried and my heart was thoroughly broken, I set about going to bed. By this time it was 1am, and the house was filled with the smell of fear and this organic toxin that reminded me of those hot cinnamon hearts you eat at Valentine's day - but more potent. I had learned my lesson. Sometimes organic isn't better and I will never apply this poison to my kitties again!

Resources for writers

2006-08-20T15:13:00.000-07:00

I receive a writer's newsletter every Sunday with a different writer's excercise. I decided to follow the link to it, and I came upon an interesting website that I thought I would pass along to anyone out there serious about writing.

The website is http://www.coffeehouseforwriters.com/index.html. Coffee House for Writers offers classes (for a reasonable fee), motivation and information on writing contests. You can also find other websites such as Morningside Writers (http://morningsidewriters.com/), a site for those really serious about writing. You actually have to fill out an application for review before you are allowed to join. There is an opportunity to search the Writer Buddy Classifieds to find someone you can share your work with, as well.

So, if you are having writer's block, maybe you can spend some time searching around this site or any others it might lead you to. Happy writing!!

World Trade Center

2006-08-18T19:54:00.000-07:00

My husband and I went to see the movie, World Trade Center. I was reluctant to see it for obvious reasons. I didn't really feel like getting depressed. Who really wants to relive one of the greatest tragedies of our time? But, my husband assured me, "No, this one has a message of hope!" Okay, fine. I'll see it.

I have to say, it was well done. It was a true account of two police officers who had been through hell trying to save others. I was on the edge of my seat wondering what they were getting at. Was one of them going to die? Was this story told from the survivor's perspective? I cringed watching the emotional battle that the wives and families went through. Through most of the movie there was a tennis ball in my throat screaming to let loose. I was uncomfortable at the thought of the anguish that these people went through awaiting word of their loved ones fate. By the end of the movie, I was wiping tears off my chin, and it wasn't just me! I heard sniffles echoing around the theater, and could see that the eighteen year old next to me who had been text messaging at the beginning of the movie was now also wiping tears off her chin.

As interesting as it was to me and many others to understand more deeply what actually went on in the lives of those closely linked to this tragedy, I had to wonder - what about the families of the deceased who watched this movie? How do they feel? Does it help them to see this tragedy played out on the big screen? Does it drive a knife through their heart to see people walk away from that disaster while their loved one did not? I have to wonder.

The Trees

2006-08-15T14:33:00.000-07:00

Just a little something I wrote as a homework assignment for a writing group.
Assignment: Write about a tree and describe your experience with it and your feelings for it. I combined different experiences into one tree.

THE TREES
The melting sun kissed the leafy branches as I looked up to its mossy structure. It towered over me strong and tilted slightly, like a father expecting me to jump into his arms. We had just finished dinner and as usual, I made my nightly climb to rest in the solace of the friendly oak, daylight still clinging to the leaves silhouetted in the evening sky.

Here I would ponder happiness, the meaning of life, boyfriends and God. It’s where I would sit with Suzi Paradise when I explained to her that she couldn’t say, “So?” to my parents because it was rude. It was also in these arms that Chelsea tried to explain how babies were made. It was this tree that heard every naïve conversation. “You just lay side by side. That’s it. You gotta baby!” She said knowingly.

And it would be this tree that would give me up to the earth as I plummeted with a smack, knocking the wind out of me. My brother would pick me up and run home with me. My protector.

The following year dad would build a tree house that rested comfortably in the mighty braches. I would listen from a nearby window as hushed whispers drifted on the wind and laughter rose and died in waves. My brother was having a friend sleep over. They were allowed to spend the night in the tree house. I was not. Jealousy clung to the walls of my stomach like acid.

Sometime later, when my grandfather died, Uncle Paul would wack the tree with a baseball bat again and again, his rage permanently disfiguring the trunk. I watched from my window and wanted to stop him, but the world was filled with so much sadness that needed to escape. I just buried my head in my arms and rocked back and forth until I fell asleep.

In the coming years that tree would stoop and sway like an old man paralyzed and forgetful, it’s leaves shedding early. I would return as a married woman standing at the base of that tree, stroking its rigid bark and playing back the years in my mind, a haunting and innocent time. Some of the branches had broken off, but the sad little tree house still remained a permanent fixture, yet also faded, like memories.

Northern Snobbery

2006-08-14T18:57:00.000-07:00

Ever since we moved to the North - okay, I was in the North before, but this is really North now - I've noticed something. People are quite unaware of the world that extends beyond their noses! If it doesn't concern them, they don't want anything to do with you. If your shopping cart is coming dangerously close to theirs, that's okay - as long as they get to pass first. There is no - "Oh, please, you first." OR "Excuse me."

Well, I was at the store today and a little incident just about set me off. As I usually do, I judged several check out lines and picked the one I suspected would be the fastest moving. And as luck would have it (because I have the worst), I got in the longest, slowest moving line. And ya' want to know why? It's all because of a horty-torty woman with no social etiquette.

I unload my cart and pick up a magazine. There are two older ladies in front of me. The first one is being checked out and during the process answers her cell phone. "What?! What?!" She yells because apparently she is getting bad reception or someone didn't want to talk to her after all. She hangs up and it rings again. This time the connection is good and she ensues a long and loud conversation while checking out. However, she pauses to talk at the end of the aisle, completely stopping the whole works! Now, five people are behind me. She only breaks from her conversation to tell the cashier to bag her groceries for her at which he rolls his eyes.

She finally swipes her credit card, but doesn't push the yes button. The cashier points so as to signal her to do so, but she is too involved in her conversation to notice. He finally reaches over and pushes it for her.

When she has signed her credit card slip, the cashier moves on to the next customer who is directly in front of me even though "Socially Inept" has yet to place her bags in her cart. He seems mildly annoyed. I'm glad.

What takes my blood to boiling is when the above mentioned Inept mouths to the cashier while holding up a card, "Oh, I forgot to pay for this." He takes the card from her and waves it my way while arching his brow as if to say, "Is it okay with you if I just let her pay for this so she can be on her way?" Remember, she is still on her cell phone. I just shrug and look away before I act on my instinct to grab the stinking cell phone from her and throw it into the produce section.

The thought, 'what would Jesus do?' did not exactly enter my thought process, but I am now drumming my fingers and biting my lip so that I won't make a scene or say something I will regret. I am fairly proud of myself for not blowing up.

I wait until Lady Rudeness has walked away and then I say to the cashier, "Next time, you really need to tell her to go to Customer Service to pay for that! It's just rude and she has no social etiquette!"

The lady behind me chirps, "Let me tell you - you have a lot of patience! I wouldn't have been able to hold my tongue!"

The cashier chimes in, "Well, I DID ask you if it was okay if she paid for the card."

At this point, I'm no longer sweet and tolerant. I say, "And if I screamed and pitched a fit and said, 'no, she can't pay right now. She's done!', what would you have said? Would you have really listened to me?!"

He kinda stammered and didn't really answer. Then, he said, "Yeah, I should tell her to go to customer service next time."

Oh man! It just seems that I've witnessed more people that have a lapse in social judgement lately. People don't look before they leave an aisle. They just pull right on out without thought if someone else might be coming that way. I find myself contantly creeping around corners, not wanting to ram into someone. And the cell phone thing - come on! It's rude and no one wants to hear your conversation especially when it's holding up the check out line.

I know, it's not just the North, so before you get upset by my comment, remember that I recognize that. But, can't we all just have a little more thought for others? I'm not saying we have to move like snails and say, "Howdy ya'll!" I'm just asking for a little courtesy. Recognize that their is a world beyond your own.

Writer's Meetup

2006-08-10T20:50:00.000-07:00

Well, how disappointing! I had planned on going to a very intellectually stimulating conversation combined with some critique of my writing. I did the homework assignment (describe a tree), which apparently no one really does. I had quickly and frantically (because I was running late) printed out eight copies of my work for the eight people that had RSVP'd to this function. Yet, I show up to find no one who seems to be apart of our group except perhaps for one guy that is creepily staring at me from a corner table. Eventually he makes his way up to me and asks, "Are you part of the writer's group?" I, of couse, say that I am and we hang out until one other girl shows up. The three of us sit there complaining about the lack of show and they fill me in on the sparse degree of talent and commitment of the group. I'm disappointed. I had skipped dinner and ventured out into this lonely world I call NJ, surroundings I am totally not feeling one with yet. I'm telling you, these roads are messed up!! Anyway, we sat around for about 15 mintues and then decided to go our separate ways. Obviously no one was showing up. So, my excitment for a little literary encouragment has fallen flat. Oh well - guess I'll have to find my "push" somewhere else.

The Literary Circle

2006-08-03T16:42:00.000-07:00

OMG!!! With just a little time and research, I have answered my own question. I have found a wealth of information on the NY writing circuit. In fact, there are writing groups meeting 10 minutes away at a Barnes and Noble!! Wow! That is just fantastic! I must have spent half of my day perusing the Writers meetup site (writer.meetup.com). There is so much info on there that my head is spinning. I signed up to join the NY Writer's Circle so you'll see my little face on there. (Normally I wouldn't post my picture, but I was feeling bold today.) I am so happy to find a community of people that share my interest in reading and writing and a way to get out and mingle. I feel like such a hermit these days. But, tonight, I'll finally be getting into the city. I am going with my husband to a bar where our college friend, Andy, is performing.

Writers workshops and the like

2006-08-02T20:17:00.000-07:00

Well, the adjustment has been good but slow in our new little corner of the universe. I really like it here. We are close to Manhattan, I don't have a job yet and well. . . I'm dying to go into the city. But, I'm also scared to death! That's quite a haul! I got lost yesterday coming home from an interview (20 minutes away) that didn't happen - interviewer called out sick. Have to reschedule. So, anyway, the thought of getting to Manhattan scares me just a bit.

My husband just informed me that he'll be out of town a lot next week, and I thought how great would it be if I could find something stimulating to go to like a book signing or a writers' workshop or a poetry reading?! Does anyone out there know of anything like that in the Manhattan area or how I could find out about them?

I just set up my little desk off of the family room. So cute. Rustic. I love it! I've decided whether I write for myself -or- write for myself and make money at it, it doesn't matter - as long as I'm writing! It's just a creative outlet for me and that's quite needed.

The big move

2006-07-22T16:15:00.000-07:00

Well, here we are! After waiting nine long months, my husband finally found the job he has been hoping for and I'm proud of him for not settling. We only moved one state away (in the NE), but it has been a great experience so far. Having some patience and not hurrying God's plan, has paid off. This is the place I know we are suppose to be. The house is better, the people are so nice and my husband and I are able to see each other and function as a married couple. With our previous lifestyle, that was hardly done.

I've enjoyed getting the house together, looking for furniture to fill rooms we didn't have before and just relaxing. I feel so much less stressed now that we are settled somewhere and neither of us is in a job we hate. Life is good. I have an interview next Monday for an interpreting job at the community college. I am a sign language interpeter.

In this new chapter of our lives, I would like to do some things differently.
1. Nuture our marriage more.
2. Relax more.
3. Make more trips to see family and friends.
4. Try my hand at writing. (We are currently shopping for a desk for me to set up "my little space.")

Change is good and while life won't be perfect, I think it can be better.

Mission Impossible III

2006-05-06T19:08:00.000-07:00

I just got back from seeing MI3 and all I can say is . . . What the-!? It was wildly entertaining, jaw dropping, on the edge of your seat suspense, but you couldn't figure out who was the good guy and who was the bad guy. This, I'm sure, is the whole aim of creating suspense and intrigue, but even at the end I thought- Wait, so who is good/bad and why is that guy being nice to him now, and wait - why didn't they kill him when they had the chance and what was the "rabbit's foot?!" I'm confused!

Still, I thought it was a very well made movie. Special effects were awesome! And although the thought that "Yeah, Tom is a real nut. I can't believe he jumped on the couch during Opera!" crossed my mind a few times, it didn't ruin the movie for me. I was able to see passed that. It was worth my $9.00.

Beautiful things

2006-04-29T14:39:00.000-07:00

I have a deep appreciation for old and beautiful things. I love antiques, old architecture, old books among other things. My most recent interest is old cemeteries. I have been driving past this Quaker Friends Meeting House for the past two years on my way to work. It is just so beautiful especially in the fall when the leaves adorn the parking lot and set it on fire. Ahhh! There is nothing more beautiful. I didn't notice until recently that there is a cememtery behind the meeting house. I have been staring at it, trying to get glimpses of it as I drive by, almost ramming the car in front of me. Then, I thought, I should really stop and walk through the cemetery. Would that be okay? Would anyone run out there and tell me to get off their property? I decided to try it anyway. So, this week I finally parked my car under a tree and walked the few feet to the most beautiful cemetery I've ever visited.

The rounded stones were bone white, some with unreadable words etched into them. Strangely in the 1800's they printed the words on the rounded top of the stone. Others were in your typical style, printed on the face of the tombstone. The ones that I was able to read fascinated me. They actually printed their age on them, in case you couldn't do the math. (Age 77)

I saw families buried together, one in which the daughter died before the parents at age 35. How sad, I thought. How very, very sad. I wondered how she died. Was it unexpected or after a long illness? But, isn't it always unexpected when the child dies before the parents? How did the parents go on?

Although we know that people lived, loved, worked and died just as we do and will, it still is amazing to me in my self aborbed little life, that people experienced life as we do. That something existed before me. That people experienced death, loss and tragedies as we have. That life is truly short, sometimes shorter than you expect.

I savored the peaceful quite of the cemetery. No one approached me and there didn't seem to be anyone around. So, perhaps I will make another visit there someday to the serenity of a church graveyard on the way to work.

I'm not worthy

2006-04-23T10:53:00.000-07:00

My husband's best friend and wife visited this weekend. I was excited to take my mind off my own preoccupations and prepare for some fun. I made a lasagna that took me much longer than anticipated to cook. I hadn't made it in 6 years or so and I had to find a recipe and shop for the ingredients after work. We ate around 9pm. I hate eating that late! Well, it turned out really good - much better than I had expected. Everyone enjoyed it.

The next morning I really wanted to make something quick but special for our guests so I made Banana bread (quick bread). I decided as a little treat to add some chocolate chips (of course). Note to self: Do not add chocolate chips to quickbread until it has cooked awhile. They all sunk to the very bottom. I had a plate full of chocolate sludge, none of which absorbed into the bread at all.

That afternoon at 3pm we went to an engagement party, a party of which we were not officially invited. Well, our friends got the e-vite, but we did not. Note to public: E-vites, in my opinion, should be followed up with a phone call esp. for the older generation which does not check e-mail even if they have an account. Anyway, we did not receive an e-vite, but through the communication of a relative with the bethrothed, it was assumed we were just forgotten. Our e-vite did not get lost in cyberspace, we were just forgotten. Hmmmm. . . well, that feels a little depressing. We went anyway to crash the party and no one said a single word about not inviting us or "why the heck are you here?" or "so sorry we didn't send you the e-vite. We just forgot." Nothing.

The rest of the night was spent visiting with people from my husband's family or meeting friends of their family I hadn't yet met. One thing you should know: There is not one car salesman, janitor or legal secretary in the crowd. They are one of four things: A doctor/dentist, an engineer, an accountant or a grad student pursuing one of the three. I am an employee at a school (not a teacher) who holds a bachelor's degree in English. That's it! Everytime I'm around these people, I feel inspired to go back to school. I discussed this with my husband (let's call him "Jack"). The two fields I would be interested in are English or Speech pathology. Problem: English - what am I going to do with that degree? And Speech Pathology would take a full 6 years part time to complete since my undergrad is in another field. Jack says the problem is he thinks I just want to get a degree to get a degree. He's right. It's a pride thing. But, I also want to do it for enrichment and stimulation. I don't know the answer to this dilemna. I want to make the best decision but neither seems right at the moment.

My job

2006-04-20T15:26:00.000-07:00

Anyone out there just hate their job? I mean, I shouldn't complain. I should be happy to have one, but it's just not what I expected to do with my life for this long. I work in the school system with children that are just so frickin' frustrating! I can't stand some of them! I know, I know - how mean spirited is that?! Okay, to my credit, I do get along with them on most days. I'm not at their throats all the time. Anyway. . . my point being is that I'm ready for a change. This is obviously not where I fit. So, what did I expect to be in life? An attorney? A doctor? The counter girl at Clinique? Well, no - okay, maybe an attorney. I like how they have to look so professional, wear the short skirts, hair in a bun, high heals, be commanding. But, that was not my dream job, really. My dream job was to be a writer and a mom. I've always wanted to write adolescent literature while my kids napped. Now, I'm not sure how realistic that is, but I remember in college one time that an author came to our class and told us that is exactly how she got started. She wrote a novel during her kids' nap time. I would love that! Now, neither dream has come true, but I've not given up hope. *sigh* One day my thoughts will all come together and I'll be able to quit my job and write full time. Unfortunately, that is not possible at the moment and I'm too exhausted when I get home to do anything but cook dinner and make lunch for the next day. Until then, here I sit. . .blogging.

Let me explain. . .

2006-04-18T17:26:00.000-07:00

Literary Chocolate? Why such a title? Well, I chose this title because I LOVE reading,writing and chocolate. Those are my passions - in that order. Literary chocolate is any piece of literature that is just so good that you melt away from reality. You get lost in the movement of words. You might say I have an addiction to literature and chocolate. I can't live without either. A good book can take me out of a bad situation and get me through the day. A piece of chocolate (preferably dark) will cure any ailment, bad mood or mental breakdown. Case in point: After having gotten lost on the way to get my oil changed, ramming my car into a yellow post at Jiffy Lube, and ranting and raving at the mechanics (for no real reason) I came home popped two Hersheys dark chocolates and started this blog. (Yes, I'm hormonal.) Ahhhh. . . I feel better already.

picture

2006-03-23T16:36:00.000-08:00