I had an incident at work yesterday that disturbed me to the point that I came home and did some online research (what a thrilling life I lead, surfing the net on Sunday night).

A young girl, maybe 6 or 7 years old, came to the desk to ask a question. I answered it, then she looked around and said that "Mommy" was in the other section and asked if she could wait at the desk until her mom came back.

Somehow the conversation changed (like most kids, she could change topic mid-sentence without missing a beat) to Halloween. She asked me if I liked it. I said, sure! Halloween's fun! She stated that she "hated" Halloween because Halloween celebrates the devil. I was kind of surprised at this and replied that I didn't think so, and started to state my own opinion--

She talked right over me, repeating several times that Halloween celebrates the devil. I decided not to press it (or comment on her manners); for all I knew her family were Jehovas or members of some fundamentalist group and it's certainly not my job to teach her one way or the other.

But it was troubling that such a young child was "brainwashed", for lack of a better term, against a holiday that is, for the most part, harmless fun. Halloween has its roots in early pagan celebrations for the dead--just like, for example, the Day of the Dead in Mexico. It is also believed that the celebration was symbolic of the coming winter, when life "dies" in the dark and cold.

Does anyone see the devil there? Of course not. The devil is a Judeo-Christian concept, and there is no link between the two belief systems. Unfortunately some groups have taken the "dead" aspect of Halloween and run with it; changed it into "devil". Sounds to me like control issues and scare tactics.

It's too bad that some people, like the little girl I met yesterday, will not know the fun of dressing up and trick or treat.

Then again...

More candy for me!!!!!!!!!

Well, I'll probably get roasted over this blog, but here goes anyway.

In my new job at the library, I am surrounded by children. Good because they're so curious about everything and they (usually) appreciate any help you can give them. Not so good when the crying/screaming/kicking fits echo through the entire department and all the way out the front doors.

But I digress.

In addition to children, I'm surrounded by mothers. Some fathers too, of course, but I'd say mothers make up 3/4 of the daily parent squad. Good because they're bringing their children to storytime and checking out materials. Not so good when they're engaging in behaviors that should be done in a more private location.

Like, for example, changing your infant's diaper in the middle of storytime. Granted, it wasn't a poop filled one, but still--we have a large bathroom with a changing table available in the department. Use it, people!!!!!!

Then there are the breast feeders. Having had a child of my own, I can fully appreciate the fact that when infants are hungry, they want to be fed right NOW. To that purpose, breast feeding is pretty darned convenient. And to their credit, most women that I have observed breast feeding in a public location are pretty subtle about it. They will cover up with a flannel blanket or something so that the world doesn't have to see their baby on the boob, sucking for his life.

However, there was a woman last week who not only didn't cover up, but actually approached the desk with the kid latched on and asked a question. To be frank, that's pushing the ick factor up a notch. I mean, if you want to breast feed in public, go ahead! But out of courtesy for the other 99 million people of the world who DON'T want to see your child latched on to your naked, engorged, veiny breast, cover up for God's sake!

Okay, bring on the critics!

From The Losing To The Judging

Well, I've dusted myself off and read my critique pages. Some of the advice was on target; some questions/criticisms came from not having more than 30 pages to read; some q/c were like...Huh??

For example, when I mentioned a scandal in my opening conversation between my heroine and her mother the critiquer asked in the margin; 'Is she pregnant?' I'm like, what??? I had thought I'd made it pretty clear that the scandal was over her inter-office romance with a married man. Pregnancy wasn't even close!!

I'm still dissatisfied with my experience, but I think I will try again at some point. I'll just chalk this one up to experience and move on.

Right into the judges chair!! I volunteered a couple of months ago to do preliminary judging for a writer's contest my RWA chapter is having. I got my submissions for the historical romances a couple of days ago.

Now, I've told myself to read each submission 2-3 times before I make any real comments. I've read them all once, and have written down some first impressions on a separate paper. It's really amazing what a range of submissions I have. Most have good, pretty unique ideas, and you can tell they've done some research to support what they've written. Some could, with rewrites, be good stories. Some others, unless they get a writing coach, will be headed for the trash.

But so far I am enjoying having the power. (moo-ha-ha-haaa!!!) I can circle and X and put those really annoying questions down if I want to. I probably won't, because I don't want to deflate the poor authors before they've had a chance. But I can dream, can't I?

Well, the results are in! And.... (drum roll please...)

I didn't make the final cut!

On one hand, I'm bummed; who wouldn't be? On the other, I'm just... ambivalent, I guess. I think it took so long, and with all the "you're out, no wait you're in" drama I just got played out.

I think what I'm most disappointed in is the fact that only two of my four copies have any comments attached, and out of those two only one has written comments, suggestions... the other is mostly blank with just the score sheet filled in.

Did I get what I wanted out of it? Not especially. Would I do it again? I don't know. Right now I am in a no-writing funk (not a good place to be) and between juggling full-time employment and home life and getting that fall "nesting" urge, I haven't written much. And I haven't really cared, either. Hopefully the burn will return. Part of me, however, is saying "Hey, if you aren't writing, you can do all the other crap you want to do." And that part of me has a point, too.

Ah well. Time for a beer. Maybe some TV since I have the remote to myself tonight. I'll think about all this again tomorrow.

Watching your child play football in the rain is an experience. The mud, the slipping and sliding, whistles blowing, people screaming... you can completely forget the weather in situations like that.

Watching your child stand on the sidelines, in the rain, while "the best" players are playing is something else altogether. It's frustrating, heartbreaking, and you feel every cold little drop pelting your head.

Son's middle school policy for sports is "no-cut". This means that if you show up for tryouts you make the team. This means that the not-so goods practice right alongside the goods and the very goods. It does not mean, however, that everyone will play in the games.

Unfortunately, when it comes to game time, it's all about winning. The best players, the rising stars are, naturally, played. I do understand this to a certain point. If they stand out as exceptional players, you want them to go out there and make as many exceptional plays as they can. However, when the best players play constantly, when they are "iron-manned" (switched from offense to defense) and are hardly ever taken out, when they are played until the bitter end when your team is getting spanked by your opponents (we're talking a complete shut-out, here), then it begs the question: What's going on here ??

What is going on, coach, and why? Why have a "no cut" policy if you aren't playing half your team? Do you really think it's kinder to have them stand on the sidelines, game after game, never being called to the field, hoping this time you'll notice them, give them a chance to prove themselves and walking away from each game disappointed and discouraged and wondering why they even bother to come at all?

Why not live up to the glory promised by the term "TEAM" and give everyone a chance out there? At this age and level, isn't gaining experience what it's all about? Seriously, there's no national titles involved here, no sneaker deals or McDonalds commercials. So why not play them all? Why not play the team?

I know, I know. We all like to win. Winning is way more fun than losing. But it's even more fun when you're actively taking part in it. Victory without participation is hollow. Cheering on your team from the sidelines in a clean, dry uniform just doesn't cut it. Victory needs to be ground in like the mud and grass on the jersey and cleats. It smells sweetest that way. And every kid on the team deserves to have it ground in at least once or twice.

If you haven't figured it out, I rode my share of benches through school. I know what it's like to sit out game after game, feeling like a loser even when we won because I didn't play. Feeling like double the loser when we lost because maybe I could have made the difference but I wasn't given the chance. I wasn't allowed to try. Riding the bench seriously undermines the spirit of "team" in those with close acquaintance to it. In hindsight, being cut would have been kinder. Then perhaps I wouldn't be tasting that bitterness again in motherhood, watching my son on the sidelines and feeling the ghost of that hard, lousy bench under my ass.

After reading a fellow blogger's post on the Chick-Lit argument now circulating in the writing world, I feel compelled to post my thoughts on the matter.

Chick-Lit was, for those of you living under a rock the last 5-6 years, the newest trend in romance novels, and probably (though I don't work in publishing so I don't have any figures) the biggest shot in the arm that the romance publishing industry has had to date. The books are usually about a young woman in her 20's who has a career and a swinging single life but for whatever reason she's not satisfied. A lot of times there is attention paid to her shopping/clubbing/dining habits during the course of the story. It is generally believed that Chick-Lit was inspired by work such as Sex and the City, Bridget Jones, etc... The success of these kinds of shows/movies bled into the publishing world and Chick-Lit was born.

Just like any other color of romance, Chick-Lit has some terrific authors and stories, and some not-so-terrific authors and stories. Some stories are sexy, some suspenseful, some are very, very funny. Some outright suck. But regardless, the genre was extremely popular for a while.

But lately, there has been a lot of debate over Chick-Lit, and some name calling besides. It seems that the moniker "Chick-Lit" has fallen into disfavor and many authors are struggling to keep that particular kiss of death away from their work. "It's not Chick-Lit, it's romantic comedy or romantic suspense, or (my personal eye-rolling favorite) it's Women's Fiction." They don't want their precious babies to be associated with that non-serious fluff writing--once the darling of Madison Avenue, now lurking in Literary Alley behind the trash cans.

On one hand I can kind of see their point. Chick-Lit was a great buzz word, and probably got whoever thought it up a nice bonus check. But it got old fast. And by its own design it has a negative connotation--I'm fast, flip and forgettable.

On the other hand, who really gives a f*** ? I mean, personally speaking, if anything of mine ever got published, I think the thrill of being 'out there' for everyone to see would have me bugling my accomplishment from every street corner. Who cares if it's Chick Lit or Women's Fiction?? It's ON THE SHELVES!!!

On that note, I'll step off my soap box. And get another cup of coffee.

It's amazing what a cup of coffee will do for a person.

I can wake up, eyes pasted shut, hungover, late for work, skuzzy and cranky and with my first sip feel humanity flowing back into me. It's astounding.

Some people would argue that coffee is addictive, like cigarettes or booze. It probably is. I don't care. If they announced tomorrow that there was a direct link between coffee and cancer I'd still drink it.

Okay, I'd cut back a little.

My parents are both coffee addicts. They have a pot in the morning and sometimes a pot in the afternoon, too. I know their habit got me started; I can remember having little sips from their cups when I was a kid. But I didn't actively start drinking the stuff until college.

Funny though, out of their five children, I am the only one who drinks coffee regularly, every day. No one else picked up the cup. My one sister will drink it if she is visiting them, and she has a coffeemaker but only gets it out when they are in town. This I think is weird, but it works for her.

There is something about coffee. That glorious waft that hits your nose when you open the bag; rich and full of the promise of pleasure. The happy clatter of beans in the grinder, the wheeeee of the grinder smashing them up, the steady drip and hiss of the coffeemaker. The scent. Bitter and rich at the same time and even though I've had thousands upon thousands of cups and know how it's going to taste, that first sip always tastes like the first time.

I think I'll have another cup.

More Fun Sayings


I'm not mean. You're just a sissy.

My inner child thinks you're a big poopy-face.

Everyone has the right to be stupid, but you're abusing the privilege.

If you don't talk to your cat about catnip, who will?

Maybe your fantasy team will pick you up at the airport.

Looks like your airbag didn't deploy in time...

Some days it's not worth chewing through the restraints.

Raising children is like being pecked to death by a duck.

Well, it's either this or sit-ups.

You know it's time to clean the bedroom when the cats discover a mouse living behind the TV.

My son does make an effort to keep his room picked up, but actual move-it scrub-it rearrange-it type cleaning is left up to me. He gets distracted by every gum wrapper and old toy that is mercilessly dragged out from under his dresser or bookcase or bed, then takes exception to nearly every item in the 'toss it' pile.

But I am ruthless. I've moved more times in my life than I can remember and I am a great believer in throwing out the old, broken, useless and sticky and starting over. Preferably with less.

But back to the mouse.

I should have known when I saw the cat in that corner. But I didn't see anything, and told myself he was just after a toy. Then the other cat joined in the corner-worshipping and suddenly Son is hollering from his bedroom (at the precise moment I sat in the recliner and got comfortable, naturally) "MOM!!! I CAN SEE IT!!!"

So much for a quiet Saturday. The room cleaning commenced, punctuated by the screaming dance when Mr. Mouse would make an appearance. I don't know what it is about mice. It's not that they scare me, really, but they're so damned quick and they change directions mid-stride and always, inevitably head for your pantleg.

We tried to stop him. We blocked off the doors with towels and I even nailed a piece of molding in front of the cold air vent where there was a small hole he could have squeezed into. No luck. The cats had long since lost interest and couldn't be bothered to help us, and the dog--bless his confused heart--is truly useless when it comes to pursuing critters.

In the end, we caught him with the business end of the broom and that was the end of Mr. Mouse. Son is pretty quick on the draw and he squashed that little bugger like it was life or death. Well, I suppose for the mouse it was...

Anyway, his room is clean, too. It looks damned good right now. I know it is only a matter of time before the tornado hits and it goes right back to like it was before, but at least we cleaned it up once this year.

Yesterday marked the end of my first week at my new job.

Whew! What a week!

Granted, this new job at the library is nowhere near as physically demanding as the old one. At least not yet. When I take over story time, who knows what will happen. But I digress. It's definitely not hard, physically. But mentally there's a lot going on. So many different aspects and responsibilities to the position, and all of them getting thrown at me at once!

The first couple of days were a little overwhelming, to say the least. I got the behind-the-scenes tour, I got to sit at my desk (YES!! I have a DESK!!), I got to order some audio books and I got to plan a bit on the first segment of storytimes with one of my fellow co-workers. And that's just the tip of the iceberg.

I think it will be fun, overall. I'm worried that my storytimes will be a flop, though I found out they are much easier than I was initially led to believe. I bought a hand puppet to be my mascot--a big black lab puppy that I'm naming Poe, after Edgar Allan of course--and I've been looking up book after book after rhyme after song... The research end of this could go on forever.

I also get to make signs and write up calendar events and play with publisher and powerpoint until ideas start bleeding out of my ears.

Doesn't this sound great???