Me? High Maintenance? Nahhhhh

So the other day, my husband was having a conversation with a woman at work (poor guy, he's one of only a few of his gender there) and she casually asked him what he was getting me for Christmas. He said he had a few ideas, probably an appliance or something like that. The woman gave him an abhorrent look and promptly snapped, "You can't get her that!" She went on to explain he needed to get me something personal, something special...like jewelry or something like that. She then lectured him for several minutes on the etiquette of gifts for his wife and he quietly listened. When she was done, he said, "but she's just not that high maintenance."

I have to agree with him. I wasn't' expecting anything so expensive as diamonds or a new car. Of course, getting that new Camero I've been drooling over would've been nice, but after 23 years of marriage I know my husband would never think to buy something that financially significant without talking to me about it....for weeks....before making the purchase. All in all, I think my husband gets off pretty easy and he agrees. We did have a good laugh over it, especially when I said he should've told her he was getting me cooking lessons. She probably would've gone apoplectic on him when the truth is I would love to have some gourmet cooking or wine and food pairing classes.

What did I get? An immersion blender/chopper, three bottles of wine, a gift certificate for more wine and four different sets of two wine glasses and the 6th season of Deadliest Catch. See? Give me wine and good TV and I'm happy. Not high maintenance at all.

Let it snow, let it snow.....

According to my daughter's estimates this afternoon, we received 11 inches of snow last week here in Seattle. The news is saying it'll be the first white Christmas in 18 years.

Yes, Cathy, I can hear you laughing all the way from Alaska.....

I'd probably enjoy it more if I didn't have to venture out in it to go to work. Now granted, I grew up in Wisconsin where 11 inches in a week of snow is a minor inconvenience, however there, it not only is a heck of a lot flatter in terrain but the city knew how to deal with snow. Here, there's hills everywhere (may of which would be classified as "mountains" in WI) and to compound that annoying problem, IF the city does anything, they put down a useless mix of sand and deicer which does squat. They plow a few main roads but the secondary and side streets go unattended making driving near to impossible. They you got the morons driving with chains on the bare pavement....always fun to watch the light show from the sparks they are throwing off or worse, the idiots who are driving like there's NOT really 11 inches of snow.

But what's really disturbing is watching how snow brings out the natural selection process, taking out the human beings whose IQ level is in the range of possibly a cardboard box (can you say Jackass?). Like the teenagers, or twenty-something males who think that tying a sled to the back of a moving car doing 20 mph down the street of their subdivision is an awesome idea and then are actually surprised when the car pulling them stops suddenly and they go smacking into the back of it or that they swing wide and end up going cranium first into car parked at the curb of the street. Or the brain surgeons who sled down the secondary streets thinking they are above the laws of physics and really are going to stop before they get to that perpendicular main road with all traffic.

So, here's to more snow in the forecast and more incidences of sheer stupidity...after all without them, they'd have nothing to report on the news.

Olympic Swimming Fever

I'm not real big into the summer Olympics, but I have to admit I got caught up in the whole Michael Phelps thing but probably not for the reason you think. Yes, it's amazing that he's accomplished what no one else has by winning eight medals, but the reason I found myself wrapped up in it is because when I look at Michael Phelps, I see my son -- both are tall, thin, have big hands and big feet, and have an arm span like a condor. The more I hear about Michael Phelps, the more I see the parallel with my son -- both are ADHD, were bullied and struggled in school. My son also swims, not competitively...but he is part fish.

I pointed this out to my son this week, showing him that despite his hardships and struggles with ADHD and school, this guy accomplished something. Something big! He didn't let anything hold him back from his dream. He worked at swimming and worked hard. He set his sights on something and didn't let anyone tell him he couldn't do it. I told my son he has this same power inside him and when he starts to doubt to think about Michael Phelps.

I truly admire this young man's mother for supporting him throughout the years. From experience, I know at times it's not easy raising an ADHD child. If you don't believe me, think about how you'd feel planning a birthday party for your child only to have no one show up because it turns out he has no friends at school.

Many consider ADHD something imagined. It's not. It's a real neurological condition that varies in severity. There are some kids who manage fine with structure or diet. My son is not one of them. He needs medication to function daily because without it, his mind moves at the speed of light and he loses focus, acts before he thinks and becomes disruptive. He also gets very frustrated with himself for not being "normal" like other kids (he also has Dyslexia which doesn't help). Medicating him was not something we took lightly but when we saw what he was capable of on the medicine, we knew it was a choice we had to make. Is it over-diagnosed? Probably, but that doesn't mean it doesn't really exist.

ADHD has its advantage...strong creativity, high energy, risk taking...my pediatrician always told me that it produced traits that made good CEO material. And it's true...several CEO's are ADHD. My son's favorite phrases are, "Hey, I have a good idea," or "what if..." And he always ask questions. So much so, there's times his father and I want to put duct tape over his mouth just for a few moments of silence! His pediatrician also told me not to worry about my son's build...he always said he had the build of a swimmer or runner. Now I have doctors trying to convince me that he has a condition called Marfans because his arm span is longer than his height (I hear Phelps, who is 6'4" has a 6'7" arm span).

I do everything I can to advocate for my son whenever I can. But that doesn't mean I cut him slack either. I expect him to do his best and not use his ADHD as a reason not to do something. I don't accept "I can't do it." So thanks, Michael Phelps for helping me prove my point. My son probably won't be standing on a platform at the Olympics, but I know he won't let his ADHD get in the way and find successful in his life.

But I wanna turn on the Harley!!!

My mother was deathly afraid of motorcycles having known someone that was hit while riding one and subsequently paralyzed. She always told me she'd kill me before I'd get a chance to kill myself if I ever dated a guy that rode one. Although I knew my mother well enough to know that she would actually carry out that threat to a certain extent, it may have stopped me from getting my butt on a bike but not fantasizing about riding one some day. Born and raised in Milwaukee, home of Harley Davidson, that's always been a part of that dream.

I've talked about it for years, my husband not really reacting to it that I can remember. But after seeing the movie The Bucket List (along with some encouragement from his boss who rides a BMW bike) he decided he wanted to learn to ride a bike and asked me to take the safety course with him. He passed (the rat) I didn't (hey, I'd just came back from Mexico, okay?) As luck had it, our neighbor was selling his bike and we now are proud owners of a 2000 Harley Sportster. The plan was to share it. He buys everything from the boots to the gear so that it will work for both of us.

Not that I can ride it yet.

My husband has taken to it like a fish to water. Meanwhile, being a beginner, thinking about riding an 833 cc scares the CRAP out of me. But, I'm going to do this because I wanna be a biker chick. Practice will help. But the question is, will I actually GET to practice? It just makes me wonder if and when I'll ever get to ride it. Maybe I'll just have to beat him with the helmet to get him off the damn thing so I can ride it once in awhile. Naaaa, it would destroy the integrity of the helmet.

Hey, I know...my birthday's coming up, he can just buy me one of my own!

Ahhh, Mexico. What a wonderful vacation. Yes, I managed to get away from my family and the job from hell for a few days for a a week in Cancun with Sharron...just a girls week away. FABULOUS! The resort was great (and extremely huge), included all the booze we could drink (and we did our share), weather was a bit iffy, but hey, we were still on vacation. Some of the highlights:

Interesting places: Tulum, Xel Ha, Playa del Carmen
Interesting people:

• Some, no most women, should avoid cornrows at all costs....don't care if your on vacation or not, 'kay? And really, high heels with bikinis? What's the point?
• Peter, the 26 year old 5th grade teacher who just seemed to wander around the resort because his friends were constantly ditching him. So drunk, he would actually weave when he walked and had no idea where his hotel room was (and it didn't matter what time of day this was, he was always weaving and bobbing). One of those 'Iloveyouman' drunks, everyone knew him and knew his life story because he was happy to sit and tell you until someone he knew finally retrieved him leading him back to his room.
• The cab driver who taught us to swear in Mayan....and wow, was it a doozey! Too bad I can't remember how to say it.

Fun things we did:

• Sharron's trip to the infirmary when she managed to fall and knock her noggin....wet marble is NOT your friend.
• At at Senior Frog's, watching the other drunk patrons drink pina coladas out of tall plastic glasses that looked suspiciously like a very large penis with palm fronds (would that make it a penis colada instead) and do shots of Sex On The Beach which involved the waitress going through a series of things to each person while blowing a very annoying whistle which ended with her pinching their ta tas.

Yes, watching people on vacation is a blast. Making fun of them is even better. It's what Sharron and I do -- we love to rake people over the coals. Writing? Sure we did writing, but watching Peter the Wandering drunk weave his way around the resort was far more fun.

I was trying to figure out something funny and interesting to write about, but sadly, I got nothin'. I lead, and have led, a pretty damned boring life. I don't get lost in the woods like Cathy, and I don't have online dating adventures like Sharron (thank GOD!!!). I work full time and have children, which pretty much suck up time, energy and brain cells -- which isn't very conducive with having a life.

But even before that, I can't think of one thing interesting to tell you about. I got married at age 22, moved to Atlanta and started working full time. That job was probably the most interesting one I had -- a medical transcriptionist in a hospital pathology lab. We saw some pretty interesting things come through there...one of those tiny little ice cream spoons from someone's stomach and things that make you ask questions like, "what would possess a person to put that in a bodily orifice???" or "Wow, that had to hurt going in...what the hell were they thinking?" The docs that we worked with were an interesting bunch as well...smart as hell with a bizarre sense of humor for the most part. They actually started their own personal freak show of various items removed from various individuals who again, found it necessary to put these said items in places not usually reserved for such things (thank God we never had a gerbil come through). Cost to view the freak show was a quarter a viewing. Although once they added the hot pink dildo so huge, it boggled the mind that someone would actually consider using it for anything other than beating a cheating spouse to death and then the cost of admission went up to fifty cents.

Working with these docs was always a learning experience....whether you wanted it to be or not. One question usually resulted in an hour long answer you couldn't help but walk away from thinking, "Wow, that was interesting," or "Ewww, too much information." Like the time I was pregnant with my daughter and the docs were absolutely sure I wanted to see what my body was doing on the inside and pulled me into the lab to show me an example of a uterus and how stretchable it was.

Oh boy.

I also ended up having my daughter in that hospital. It was a constant parade of co-workers in and out of my room while I was in labor--some of them there legitimately to take blood, others just there to cheer me on. One poor young sap had a wife due to deliver in the next three weeks....I'm sure he had nightmares after seeing me in the throws of labor. Looking back, I should've had a clue as to how life with my daughter would turn out....the entire time I watched the breaking news of Jeffrey Dahmer, and when she was actually born, it was amongst tornado and severe storm warnings.

So, now, wasn't that interesting? Hey, you! Yeah, the one snoring in the front row. I asked you a question, dammit! Never mind. I'll just go back to my boring life.

Things People You Work With Should Never Know

The people I work with know I'm a writer and most know that I write in the romance genre. The problem comes in that when you're a writer, people want to read what you write. Now, in most cases, it's okay, but when it comes down to people I work with reading my books, I get a little....uh...no a LOT....creeped out.

I see these people ever day. I work with them. But I DO NOT want them to know what's going on in my head! Talk about TMI (too much info). I mean just because I'm a romance writer does NOT mean I wonder about other people's sex lives and I'm sure they don't think about mine (ewwww!) so you can see where them reading a romance novel of mine might be a tad bit out of everyone's comfort zone.

People who aren't writers don't realize that a love scene in a book is about one of the most difficult things in the book to write. Their impression is that you're focusing strictly on the physical when, in reality, it's completely the opposite -- you're really focusing on the emotional which is far more difficult. This isn't Penthouse Letters!!! Wham, bam, thank you, ma'am is much easier to write. Unfortunately, it's not what romance is about. The proof is all the sweet and inspirational romance novels out on the market where the characters do nothing more than kiss.

Romance is about romance. The relationship. Two people overcoming conflict to end up HEA (happily ever after). It's about finding love and committment in a world where you have German polititions lobbying for laws to make marriage null and void after a certain number of years. Call me sappy or call me unrealistic, but I enjoy seeing love win!

So why do I still get all grossed out thinking about my co-workers reading?

Because it's just icky, that's why! And it's just another reason I need to get off my butt and get writing....so I can quit my job and not deal with it!

Ohhhhh, Muse! Get your bitch-ass over here and give me some help, will ya?