So the thing is, I’m late getting this post out. It’s been one of those weeks. Also, I was fully expecting to write about an entirely different subject.
SURPRISE TO ME!
As I wrote last week, it’s been difficult writing at all since I got my cataract surgery and can see again. Over the weekend, however, I forced myself and Penny (my muse) finally showed up. She’s been relentless.
It’s been so long since I’ve actually worked on my book that I felt obligated to start there. I expected I’d write my blog post after that. Yeah, that didn’t happen; so, I thought I’d give y’all a taste of what I have been working on. Fingers crossed, this will actually make it into the book. Below is about three to four pages of a chapter that’s (at this moment) twenty-five pages long. Again, don’t worry, this is only three to four pages!
It started out at fourteen pages and then I decided to edit. I KNOW! I SHOULD HAVE STOPPED WHILE I WAS AHEAD! Because that’s what happens when I edit. It gets longer instead of shorter. Every. Damned. Time. (That’s what she said!)
Also, here’s the heads up —
There’s a religious theme that runs throughout the story below; though, I don’t think you have to be religious or a Christian to appreciate it. As members in the writers group I belong to pointed out, knowing certain things/ stories is more of a cultural or general knowledge kind of thing. They felt like the one I reference below falls into that category. In other words, you don’t/ shouldn’t have to be religious to know who/what I’m writing about there.
If you don’t, though, that’s okay. You can join the same club that my daughter belongs to. But only if you want. Either way, as y’all know, I write about stuff in my life. This is some of that stuff. So, I hope y’all can relate and appreciate. If not, hopefully, you can boast about the next thing I post. (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) Also, you can blame Kelly. Or Penny. (I haven’t blamed Kelly for anything lately!)
Oh, one more thing — please tell me you know what ADIDAS means. My daughter did not. It turns out that I’ve been under the illusion that she’s much more well-rounded than it turns out she is. She knows what it means now. It came up in the context that I told her that some guy she knows probably had a bad case of ADIDAS brain. And she was horrified once I told her what that meant. OH, PLEASE! She’s 32 years old. I’ve hardly corrupted her.
Also, if you say ADIDAS is the brand of an athletic shoe, you’re right. That’s not what I was going for, though. As any fifth grade boy (and maybe girl, too) can probably tell you, the acronym stands for something else. Also, the ‘S’ doesn’t stand for sports, unless you’re a ‘G’ rated soul, like some people I know (my writers group.) Again, some of them believe that I just grew up around the wrong kind of people and/or had the wrong kind of friends when I was younger. Maybe. Maybe not. Of course, I didn’t learn what ADIDAS meant until I was fully an adult. It means, if you don’t know, All Day I Dream About Sex. Some kid told me. I don’t remember who. It was over twenty years ago.
Anyway, my writers group learned something new and so did my daughter. Because, that’s what I strive to do. Teach. 🙂
SOMETHING FUNNY — OR HORRIFYING
Okay, one last thing before the excerpt and only because this was last minute and I thought y’all might appreciate this! David, who’d just brought in the mail, gave this to me right before I was ready to send this post out! He caught me just in time! Whew! So y’all remember last post when I told you that I’d recently gone to a baby shower, right? Well, if you didn’t I wrote about it here. So, I get a thank you card in the mail from the mother-to-be. She wrote a very nice thank you and on the back of that card, she wrote —
A baby’s laugh is one of the most beautiful things you will ever hear…
Unless it’s 3 AM…
You’re home alone…
And you don’t have a baby.
Just one more reason I love this woman!
Okay, now from my story —
Excerpt from book (fingers crossed) —
Probably the worst thing about having cataracts was the fact that I couldn’t even read words on my computer screen. Or my phone. Do you know just how screwed up this is for someone who wants to write for a living? It was so bad, I wanted to write a letter to God. It would say —
I love you and will always love you and my soul is yours forever and ever if you want it. BUT I’M NOT JOB! I’m trying not to complain — or worry — at least I’m trying my best not to, but I’m only human. Can you please help a girl out?
Great big hugs,
(Note to reader: So, apparently, I’ve failed as a parent. I had my daughter read my letter to God to get her feedback. According to my daughter, she doesn’t know who Job was.
HOW COULD SHE NOT KNOW WHO JOB WAS?!!!!
Not only that, but she read ‘Job’ — not with the long ‘o’ sound, but she said his name using the short ‘o’ sound. Of course, the long ‘o’ sound is what differentiates his name from the word that means work; as in, I have a job to do vs. Job, the man. Lauren was totally confused why I was writing a letter to God and explaining to Him that I wasn’t work with a capital J-O-B, when clearly I am. And, she also wanted me to know I’d left a word out of the same sentence. I should have used the article ‘a’ right before the word ‘job.’ So, technically, I’d written God a letter with a huge grammatical error in it. I should fix that before sending it.
She’s confused? No, I’m confused. She thought I was actually sending God a real letter telling him ‘I AM NOT A JOB?’ Okay, maybe I am a work in progress, but she thought I could actually mail this or anything to God — in Heaven?!!! I wonder what the postage would cost for that. Or what His address is. Can you imagine being at the post office trying to mail this?
Me: Uhm, I’m mailing a letter to God and need postage. No, I don’t have a street address. I don’t know his zip code either. He resides in Heaven. Does that help?
Post Office Clerk: Listen, lady, you can’t just send a letter addressed to God in Heaven through the US Mail. Who do you think he is, Santa Claus at the North Pole? Here’s the deal, we don’t send letters to God, we PRAY! And we don’t pray to Santa Claus. We send him letters. Got it?
Most importantly, how the hell could my daughter not know the biblical story of Job? I told her she needs to read her Bible. Or go to Church. Or both. Her brother knows the story of Job; so, how could she not?
DO YOU KNOW HOW SHE RESPONDED TO THIS?
She said that she’s a 32-year-old woman who’s managed to get along just fine in the world without knowing who this Job character was and whatever his story is.
DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE SAID TO ME AFTER THAT?
No, David, she didn’t say, “Take this Job and shove it!”
What Lauren said — David (and everyone else) — was, “And I don’t need to know.”
Can you believe that? Lauren doesn’t think she needs to know the story of Job.
OH, BUT SHE WASN’T DONE YET.
She also suggested that it was stupid for Job to have a name that — unless you knew who he was —you’d mispronounce. I said, “And who would do that? Who would mispronounce his name, Lauren, other than you? What Christian doesn’t know the story of Job, except you?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe someone who isn’t Christian. Maybe someone who was, say, Jewish.”
OH. MY. GOD.
“JOB WAS JEWISH, LAUREN! MOST OF THE PEOPLE IN THE BIBLE WERE! HE’S FROM THE OLD TESTAMENT!” I screamed.
“Well, how was I supposed to know that?” she said.
“Lauren, for the love of all that is holy — please, child, please stop talking.”
Literally, y’all — this is bad! This is really, really bad! I hope my daughter’s not tempting fate God to give her a reason to have to find out just exactly who Job was — THE HARD WAY! Pray for my daughter, y’all! And Lord, please forgive her, she knows not what she says! Hey, I’m not even Catholic, but after this, I can’t seem to stop making the sign of the cross!)
(Second note to reader: Apparently, my word program also doesn’t recognize who Job is and has also called me out on my grammar for the same reasons that Lauren did! What is going on?!)
And now for music —
This doesn’t really have anything to do with my post, BUT, I love this!!!! Hope you do, too. George Harrison, RIP!
and, of course —
And here’s Bruce’s contribution! Thanks, Bruce! Enjoy!
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Sparkle on in your own badass way,