New Section on the Site

I'm pretty sure most of the people who read this site are married. My husband is an absolute prince, and I try to tell him that every day. He is everything I ever hoped for and more.

I have a lot of fun messing with my husband's mind. I can't give away all my secrets, but in case you are interested, I will be posting from time to time about the Proper Care and Feeding of Husbands. There's no need to bother with the Proper Care and Feeding of Wives because let's be honest, no matter what a guy does, if his woman wants to stay mad, then she'll hold on to that emotion with the talons of a harpy.

The following is a letter written to the Dr. Laura Schlessinger radio show which is very similar to my own experience:

When I was married for a few years I allowed myself to take the attitude of "I'm lost." I spun around unfulfilled and I ceased cooking dinners, cleaning, and doing all of the things I did when I was first married and things were fun. Hence, my me-me-me attitude was born.

So after considering that I may have to go take an antidepressant Happy Pill to rid myself of this new malaise, I decided to read your book. What I have learned from reading (twice) "The Care and Feeding of Marriage" and listening to your sage advice: Do it anyway with love no matter how you feel. Even though I was tired, even though I kept having these woe-is-me-nobody-knows-yuckyuckyuck thoughts, I decided to have a new outlook. I just would not give in to the junk in my brain's inbox. Why? You wrote a sentence that I will never forget for the rest of my life and it is like this: It is my moral prerogative NOT to be depressed. What? Really? You mean I should think contentedly on purpose? That I should not spew my OPINION everywhere because I can? But every woman in my life is down and complains all the time. You mean that I have to have self-control. My goodness.

I do not know why, but it changed my life. This last forty days of Lent, with help from the Lord with prayer, I completely turned my life around. I never took drugs, drank, or did any of the acknowledged social mess-ups. I was just killing my marriage softly with my thoughts of "Well, humph, if I 'suffer' so can you," to my dear, sweet, amazing husband. I cannot believe that I had been doing it! He's awesome. He slays dragons. He brings home the bacon so that I can feed and clothe our family. He is HOT. And I was treating him softly, slowly, like a jerk. It is like salt. A little salt is okay, but douse your dish with it for too long and you can never get the food to taste right again. I could have been that woman that "insalted" my man to the point of no return. I was not horrible by any means- I never put him down and tried to build him up- but I never gave him credit in my heart for doing all the things that he is "supposed to be doing."

On to Lent. I tell you this because I am a home-cooking wife exclusively now. No more take out. No more dragging our darling baby in public and trying to make the situation pleasant. I made him breakfast and dinner for forty days. Forty days to a new life. I cooked for him because I LOVE HIM. I cleaned for him because I LOVE HIM. We had as much "us" time as he wanted, and I initiated, joyfully, when he had not asked! All of a sudden- I had fulfillment. We got back into the fun of being married. Now I have purpose. I have two advanced degrees, but when he called me from work the other day and said, and I quote, "You are the best wife ever and I am so happy to be married to you- I cannot wait to see you, Babe," it was the best accomplishment of my life. I appreciate and acknowledge him, and he appreciates and acknowledges me.

I'm Done

I once had a third-grade teacher who, when we had announced we were done with a test, would ask us if we were a cake. I didn't understand the grammatical nuance of that retort until years later. But in this case, I am more done than finished.

I'm done with writing, but I sure didn't finish anything. I'm not going to wallow in my quittingness, but I just want my word count buddies to know why I won't be posting. Basically, I hated writing. I hated planning it, I hated doing it, and I hated remembering it. Unlike running, which I also hated in the beginning, I have improved that talent and I enjoy doing it now. With writing, I've given it a good long trial period and it's still something that drains me instead of filling me up.

Park City Marathon

I'm right on track to run the half marathon in Park City on August 23. I will probably be spending August with my parents in Payson, so the timing is perfect!

This is the setting for one of my scenes

This is who I would cast to play my characters, although Hathaway is too beautiful and I would want Depp's eyes to be grey.

Some small breakthroughs

Lying in bed till noon can be productive. I filled in two conversations that I'd been avoiding. Not the two I've already whined about, but some minor holes in my narrative. I like being an unpublished author because there's no deadline and I can completely please myself.

Running update

I ran 4 miles yesterday for the first time. That was a huge breakthrough for me because I'd been trying to do it every weekend for a month. I have to run after the sun goes down and I still feel like I'm getting a sunburn.

Stuck on my book

I've been having a lot of fun and success working my way through my story. I've been working on three chapters simultaneously and finished one last month. As for the other two, I'm stuck on two major conversations that take place between two major characters. It's the same two characters in both instances. I guess it's my fault for not fleshing them out enough. I've filled out every "character sheet" I can find, but still this main character of mine just doesn't capture my imagination. I hate her like I hate Madame Bovary and to some extent myself. Other writers talk about how their characters seem so alive that they can talk to them. That is so bizarre to me, and yet I wish I could experience it.

On a happier note, I'm currently working on a Family History Burlesque a la Mark Twain. I just read his this weekend and it cracked me up. I thought, "I can do that." But as I study his little 3-page piece again, I realize what a genius Twain is.