Time to move forward.

Update on the writing contest: I didn't win.

Am I glad I entered the contest? Yes. Did I get a good critique? I think so. At least my feathers are not too ruffled.

I did get a passing grade (if you will call it that). The lowest scored item related to my synopsis which I must admit I threw together in about ten minutes. I got several top marks in some important areas. Yea me!

Ok, moving on. It's time to get to work. I have some good critiques to think about. I do not agree with everything mentioned. But that's good. The critiques are opinions and I have my own. For the most part, I'm going with my gut.

So be on the lookout for a forthcoming announcement in the hopefully not too distant future.

Now to figure out how to publish this puppy.

Go me!

T.

Texas Springtime Road Trip

I just returned from another trek around central Texas. It's good to be Texan.

Last fall, my grandfather passed away at the ripe age of 93. It is through his family that I have roots growing in Texas since the 1830's (Texas became an independent republic in 1836.) After he died, the family decided to scatter his ashes at the old family plot on privately owned land and scattered wildflower seeds in the plot and along the highway to make the location of the plot a little more visible. (We hoped.)

With wildflower season in swing, we decided to make an Easter weekend trip south. Luckily for us, Myrtle the younger announced she had an extra credit assignment due for German III, giving us the opportunity to kill multiple birds with one stone. How, you might ask? German settlements are scattered throughout central Texas with a famous German restaurant in Walburg and a large settlement in Fredericksburg which also happens to be the wildflower capital of Texas.

So off we go with our first stop in Walburg to fill up on saurbraten, schnitzel and a few other German delicacies which I can't spell because I never studied German. Myrtle took her assigned selfie with food and off we went on our quest for wildflowers.

Along the way, Mimi (the resident genealogist) realized we did not have pictures of her grandparent's gravesite in her database (72K names, people!) and guess what happened to be on the way to Fredericksburg--you guessed it--the cemetery.

I love cemeteries. The older the better. In fact, I have a peculiar talent. I find dead people. Put me in the middle of any cemetery and give me a name to hunt for and I will find them in record time. Turn up the heat and humidity and I will find them even faster. It's fun and it drives Mimi crazy. (How do you do that?!? IDK.) The last time I was at this cemetery was in 1985 when my great-grandmother passed away. I did not go to my great-grandfather's funeral in 1992 (Mimi did). That being said, an argument ensued about where their burial plot was located. Guess who found the marker in less than one minute? Yup, went straight to it.

Mission accomplished, we proceeded to Wildseed Farms to see fields of poppies and bluebonnets. Absolutely gorgeous!

After spending the night overlooking Lake Marble Falls, we headed north to Burnet (pronounced burn-it) County where the family plot is located. Since we did not get permission to go to the plot beforehand, we just looked through the fence. No sign of wildflowers in the plot, but along the highway there was plenty of evidence that our seed scattering was productive. Yea!!

Now Mimi wants to get five pounds of seeds for each departed family member and scatter them at the highway and at her property. Stay tuned!

T.

When I grow up...

Like many people I know, I am at a crossroads in life. Since 2012, I have been laid off from two jobs and have spent the last year and a half trying to find the right opportunity.

Now, I hear what you are muttering under your breath. "But, T., you are an occupational therapist. There are tons of jobs waiting for you out there." Yes, there are tons of jobs. (well, not TONS but several) About half of them are pediatric (which we established a few months ago that I am NOT a pediatric therapist--see You're Going To Find Me A Job, Right?) or they are places which I have said I would never consider for multiple reasons.

I get calls from recruiters daily. Some are really entertaining. All of them make me wonder how recruiters make a living. (No, I am not interested in an ock-u-pat-shun-ale ther-a-pest position in my neighborhood...in TEXAS. Do these people know how big Texas is? San Angelo or Corpus Christi is a LONG commute from the Dallas area.) I also find it somewhat amusing (not really) that all of the job descriptions advertised are interchangeable so I can't tell what skills are being sought. (Am I a fit? Can't tell!)

I have been on several interviews and I even walked out of one because they were insane. What I have learned is the healthcare climate has changed so much in the past five years that the company either wants a license with a pulse (which means I don't want them), or they want a new graduate that they can train the therapist to jump through their hoops (One of my soapboxes. Don't get me started.)

So, this leaves me wondering what my future as an occupational therapist might be and asking the question, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" I've been asking this question for longer than I'd care to admit and still have no definitive answer.

For now, I continue as I have. I am on the books with three companies as PRN (as needed) of which two give me somewhat steady work. I have an interview in the morning and one next week for two more PRN positions. I am looking at private practice (which really goes back to the question about growing up). And I am writing and still waiting to publish the first novel until I hear back from the contest. (I have two more novels in the hopper. Obviously, I have too much time on my hands.)

Stay tuned!
T.

Just a Normal Saturday

Yesterday I spent an exhausting day with brilliant teenagers. It made my brain hurt.

Myrtle the Younger is in her high school's version of gifted and talented coursework, called Phoenix. She adores her Phoenix classes because they allow her to think light years out of the box. (And she is pretty darn good at that. I haven't understood a word that child has said since she was hatched.)

Every year the junior and senior classes spend months putting together a Phoenix simulation day for the sophomores and freshman. (The best part...everyone wears a costume.) The hosting classes have a theme (untamed forces) they work around, each with a theme within the theme (greed, dreams, fear, survival instincts, psychology, etc.). Her class theme was social hierarchy so they chose to create a prison complete with gangs and a tattoo parlor. (Isn't that what you think when you hear the phrase 'social heirarchy'?)

So yesterday I proudly send off my baby prison guard with a cute little bun. All I know was she was thrilled to be a prison guard so she could swat people with a foam noodle. (A mother's pride knows no bounds, despite having little understanding of the baby girl's thought processing.) I was assured that no one was hurt by her swats and she had a blast.

Now because I am the supportive parent, I was volunteered to be a chaperone. And upon arrival, I was informed that I was responsible for NOTHING. Yea! This event was completely run by the kids and my role was that of general adult. I can do that! And in return, I get pizza!

So I dutifully follow the three groups I am assigned to and we see the creative results of ten different Phoenix classes including Greed (a giant Monopoly game with robbers), Psychology (a psych ward where the students got to yell "give me my meds!"), Social Movements (a communist spy/blow up the Berlin Wall simulation), Finances (a stock market crash), Natural Disasters (a tornado clean-up), Failure (Amazing Race), Dreams (from happy rainbows and unicorns to LSD-inspired weird stuff to really bad burrito nightmares), and Survival Instincts (plane crashes into the jungle and now the animals are going to eat you). Yes, I have forgotten two, but that was the middle of the day and my brain was on sensory overload. Be assured they were fun and creative.

I came home and took a nap.

Otherwise it was a normal Saturday for me. How about you?
T

Confusion Is The Norm, Right?

I attended my first ever writer's critique group last night. It was an interesting evening to say the least. The instructions were to bring a chapter of approximately 2500 words to share and discuss.

There were five others present with material to discuss. One was new, like me, and the others were old hats with either published materials or at least few rejection letters under their belts. Overall, I was impressed by the amount of work they had completed and their feedback.

Now, I must explain a few things before I continue. Firstly, I am an introvert. Meeting new people--not my cup of tea. Meeting new people for the express purpose of criticizing...excuse me...critiquing my work--OMG! Secondly, I am a speed reader. It wasn't something I learned, nor can I really explain how I read, but one thing I do know--reading out loud is akin to torture. I do know I tend to omit or stumble over descriptors and words like 'the', 'to', 'a/an', etc. They are a waste of my time and energy in reading, so when I read out loud, I have to force myself to recognize their existence. (Books with a lot of descriptions get skimmed or put down pretty quickly. Give me action and dialogue! My brain will fill in the rest.)

Back to the group. After I read my prologue, discussion ensued. Major discussion. There were two or three different factions. Now I realize that many will not like my story (genre, concept, style, etc) and I should not take that into consideration or be offended. But on my right was someone telling me my prologue had no hook, that it sounded like a ghost story and mystery rather than a romance, didn't understand who my audience was and she would put the book down. (Not helpful!!) The person on my left said she had no problem with the hook and liked the intro but needed see how the prologue tied in with the rest of the story.

Now I think the person on the left had a reasonable arguement and is often how I approach a novel. How does the opening/prologue tie into the rest of the book? I often don't see the connection until mid book or the end, but that's part of what keeps me going. One of the comments was that the character in the prologue needed to be the main character of the book. I've never heard that before and have read many prologues which did not include the main character. The prologue should tie into the main concept, but not necessarily the main character.

Thoughts?
T.

What Is This...Uhm...Stuff?

I am either the best wife ever or the worst mom ever. Not sure which, maybe both.

Queso is a food group in Texas and considered a perfect alternative to soup on a cold day. I normally make mine with cream cheese because I know what cream cheese is and can pronounce most of the ingredients. Now I am not necessarily a food snob, but I do appreciate fresh veggies, nice meat and real cheese. (I appreciate someone else doing the cooking even more.)

My spouse does not like my version of queso. He likes what I refer to as the glue version. I think you know that to which I refer.

Labeled as a pasteurized recipe cheese product and has a shelf life of infinity, it is known to melt quickly in the microwave into creamy yellow sauce without any needed additions. It also turns into glue within five minutes and contrete in ten. Clean-up can take hours.

I think it goes without saying that I do not purchase said product, so imagine my chagrin when I found a yellow box sitting on my pantry shelf. Yes, the spousal unit decided that, since I was going to the church youth super bowl party, he would indulge his craving.

Well, he forgot and the box has remained on my shelf, taunting me. Until today. A day known as sleet-magedon (or however you spell it). School is out so both spouse and Myrtle the Younger are lounging around. So after making the spouse breakfast in bed (he NEVER returns the favor!), I decided to eliminate the garbage from my pantry which primarily consisted of the yellow box of goo.

After making the queso, I watched as my spouse inhaled and my daughter laughed hysterically at speed of plasticization. Even the dog questioned the edibility of said product, although ultimately he will eat whatever Daddy eats.

I wonder who will clean up this...stuff. Anyone got a chisel?

T.

Another One for the Win Column

I am pleased to announce that my Sunday School class has yet again won Best Theme for this year's Crossfire Youth Annual Chili Cook-Off. I am not sure how many years we have won, but it be a bunch. I cannot say we are undefeated, but we are pretty darn close.

Although we have fabulous cooks in our class, each of which make a mean pot of chili, we do not go for the Best Chili. That being said, I do have to admit to being a bowl of red conoisseur and I side with the International Chili Society rules. Chili must have at least 1 pepper (other than black) and may consist of any variety of meat although the preferred versions are some flavor of beef. There are red varieties (Red Chili) and green varieties (Chili Verde). There are no white chilis (sorry to disappoint). Chili should also be not too watery (that's called soup in Texas) or too dry (that's called dip).

No beans or pasta or other such nonsense. It is acceptable to put your chili over beans or pasta, however THOU SHALT NOT MAKE CHILI WITH BEANS OR PASTA. (It's a rule. Trust me. I looked it up. See for yourself. http://www.chilicookoff.com/Event/Event_Rules.asp). Personally, I can tolerate a black or white bean, but kidney beans make me want to...well, let us just say I no likey.

Now with full disclosure, I have come up with an acceptable vegetarian version thanks to Myrtle the Younger. She became concerned the year that her sister, Myrtle the Elder, became a vegetarian and would have nothing to eat at the chili cook-off. I, being a good Texan, dutifully informed Myrtle the Younger that there was no such animal as vegetarian chili but she insisted that I could accomplish the impossible. So I masqueraded a spicy bean soup as vegetarian chili.

So what, you might ask, makes for a successful Best Themed Chili Cook-Off booth? Insanity, people. Much insanity, with an extra helping of details on the side. Our class motto is 'go big or go home' with plenty of room for 'what have we gotten ourselves into?'

This year's winning theme: FIRE IN THE HOLE!

Yes sirree, we had a mine shaft, mine car, and a dead canary. I would post a picture, but for some reason it no worky. So trust me, IT WAS AWESOME!!!

Now for some antacid.

T.