MUD

I saw some. Yesterday, as I was picking up Kid 4 from his buddy's house, I stepped out of the Mighty MiniVan, right into one of my favorite things: Squishy, squelchy mud.

Oh, mud. I love you. I love your fudge-brownie color. I love your smell -- that mix of dirt, mulch, water and hope. Hope that Spring will, in fact, ever return.

There is not a tiny spot of mud visible anywhere at my house, because it's all several feet deep in crusty snow. But if I'm nowhere around here? You can bet on finding me at Kid 4's buddy's house, on my knees, nose to the ground, happily inhaling mud.

Bossy?

I don't particularly like being in charge. I love having other people I can turn and point to, either when something is great or when a major disaster happens. I love having Husband - for so many reasons, but also so I can say, "Ask Dad. Tell Dad. Go cry to Dad." I am not bossy, because I don't crave the backlash.

But.

I am always right.

See where the problem comes in?

Even when I'm not in charge, I know exactly how everything should be run, and done, and carried out.

It's a curse.

Talking to Strangers

So today I went to the bank. I may or may not have needed to cover an overdraft, and if I did, that's none of your business. So I'm in the bank, and I hand over the business to the cute teller girl. She said, with a shy smile, "Um, I need to tell you something."

Not my favorite words at the bank.

Then she says, "I just read your book. I filled up a huge bubble bath on New Year's Day and read it all at once. I loved it!" (Totally her exclamation point, okay?)

I have never seen her before. This is maybe the first unsolicited (as in Not at a book signing or other author event) "stranger feedback" and it was fun. Kids 3 and 4 were with me. Kid 3 asked as we left, "How did she know who you were? Oh, because your picture's on the cover, right?"

Right. Riiiiight.

But definitely fun, right? Right.

Where, oh Where Has My Amazon Package Gone?

I just checked that "Where's My Stuff" page at Amazon and found that my books are scheduled to arrive the day after I leave for my trip. (The trip to Hawaii. That trip.)

So here's an experiment. How's about we all pick one, or two, or all of these:

• pray my package arrives early
• put it out to the Universe
• wish to the Giant Panda
• meditate on it, visualising me holding my books

and maybe it will happen. I'll be sure to let you know!

And maybe someday I'll actually pay for shipping, instead of taking advantage of the Super Saver. Wait. Who am I kidding? Maybe someday I'll actually order two weeks early. That's more like it.

The Relative Utility of Sinatra and Brando

Ironing. I hate it. Not the doing of it, precisely, but the time it takes away from anything really fulfilling. Like eating marshmallows right out of the bag, or reading a book, or painting my toenails.*

But, hey - I'm not one to complain about an unpleasant task when instead I can make said task more enjoyable.

Enter Sinatra and Brando. Specifically, "Guys and Dolls" on DVD. There is such an abundance of goodness there that I find myself singing along (especially Miss Adelaide's "A Person Could Develop a Cold") only to find that several shirts are ready for Husband to wear to work. In fact, I go looking for more ironing options. Like Kid 4's little churchy button-downs, and the girls' scarves, and maybe even kitchen towels. (Okay, that was a lie. I do not iron towels. Ever. But you get the idea.)

This also works well for wrapping Christmas gifts.

Yes, you're welcome. I'm only here to help you.

* I have discovered, though, that if I do a coat of toe-polish and then iron a shirt, it's just about time to do another coat. But that's multi-tasking to a ridiculous extent, so let's never speak of it again.

Funny Thing

My friend Cindy just sent me this. If you're a New Moon fan (or if you're not, but know the story) this is a good way to spend five minutes laughing.

"What Are They DOING?"

Last night, after a few family board games, Husband and I snuck into the office* so he could show me some photos he's been working on. Have I mentioned that he's brilliant, photo-wise? He also started blogging **recently, but it's mostly pretty, pretty photos (the words come, too, though). Anyway, so the Kids were playing Christmas music on the iPod and dancing around the family room. Vigorously.

Very vigorously.

After a few minutes I wandered into the kitchen to pack lunches for today, and the dancing had morphed into an impossible-to-describe game of "leap over the rolling logs" at which point, Husband came through and whispered to me, "What are they DOING?"

I shook my head, shrugged my shoulders, and said, "I think they're exercising. But be quiet, they don't know it." The game continued until I started reading them "Midnight Magic" by Avi, at which point they all lay their sweaty selves on the floor and drew illustrations of the castello.

To my sistas of the small children, who feel discouraged by the daily-daily: This Too Shall Pass. It gets easier. And it's really a whole lot of fun.

*It wasn't quite as romantic as it sounds.

**Scroll down for some cuteness of our own.

Did You Know?

FedEx Express small pack is not for mailing blood. It says so right there on the bag, where you seal it shut. Just so you know. No blood.

A List

So yesterday afternoon while I was mowing the lawn sans iPod, I had brilliant blog-post ideas. They were flowing. Funny ideas, insightful ones, serious and ridiculous ones.

Um, gone.

This is why real writers keep notebooks or carry cards - like those white index cards. Husband does. Unlined 3x5s are his favorites, and he always has a pen with him. Okay, maybe not while mowing the grass, but maybe so. You never know. But that way, when genius strikes and the muse sings, you write it down instead of counting on your brain to hold on to the beautiful ideas.

With the lack of beautiful ideas, I'm going to tell you what's inside my purse. Lucky, lucky you.

The blue scarf is technically tied to the outside, so maybe that doesn't count. Let's go inside.

In the outer pocket:

estee lauder lipstick, #24 in spiced cider*

dramamine, less drowsy formula

mailbox key

orange highlighter with post-it flags inside

altoid smalls, wintergreen flavor - mmmm.

In the inner pocket:

target brand eyedrops

neosporin + pain relief

4 feminine hygiene products

a smashed pack of trident "minty sweet twist" gum, mostly full

7 (200-mg) ibuprophen tablets in a zip-bag (snack sized) for road trips and movies

1 mint that looks pepperminty, but is probably cinnamon, from a restaurant somewhere

Inside the purse itself:

my falling-apart pink wallet (which holds, among other things, my drivers' license, cards from subway, america first c.u., costco, library, health insurance, macy's {that one's a gift card}, ann taylor, discover, zion's bank, a coupon for kohl's that expired 3 weeks ago, receipts from the market and $10 in cash + some coins, but not many because apparently that's free range for the Kids)

a copy of bright blue miracle (never know when that will come in handy)

a cool leather-bound notebook (4x4) for holding all my brilliant ideas that come when I'm not mowing

a pad of yellow post-it notes

a torn piece of paper with the name "M. Hospodarsky" on it (which is just the coolest name)

a ticket to a football game

a pouch-type wallet thing that holds emergency makeup (covergirl simply powder foundation in creamy natural, c.g. super thick lash mascara {names can be deceiving}, a silver c.g. lipstick which is for some reason open, and now all over my hands, but also really obsolete because there is also a wet-n-wild lip pencil that cost me 79 cents and it has earned my undying devotion over the years** and may continue to be my favorite beauty product forever) and a bunch of papers, including Kid 2's 12-year-old well-check reciept, tickets for the train, outlet coupons that expired in august, a cardholder agreement for a card I've never used, and a pack of treetop fruitsnacks - for emergencies on the road***

a pack of skittles which doesn't really tempt me

a grocery list****

a spare contact lens case

a pencil that says "click it or ticket" - I just love threats from the law

3 pens, 1 green, 2 black

2 pennies

a wrapper-lid from a pot of wendy's honey-mustard dipping sauce (which I don't eat, so I'm not really sure how that one happened)

So the point of this exercise? Apparently to remind us all that cheap makeup is a good thing, and that no matter what, a girl who likes to talk (or write) will always find something, no matter how trivial, to say.

* actually a little orange for me, but not bad with the right outfit (black)

**it's # 666, but that is just a coincidence, I mean it.

***mine, if necessary

****that's another post entirely - bet you can't wait

Question Blog

Becca, did you do your assignment you (nearly) promised yesterday that you would do? I just did my homework. I wrote about a time I "bonded" with someone. It was a good exercise. I remembered something I haven't thought about in nearly 10 years. Did I write anything in my WIP? Nope. So sue me.*

Becca, what's going on with your book that's in editing? I'm hearing rumors about my new cover. I haven't seen it yet. I hope to, soonly**. I'll show it off as soon as I have permission. And Lovely Editor is working on smoothing everything out, wordwise.

Becca, if you could never publish another novel, would you still write novels? Um, yes. And maybe that little caveat would make them better. Hm.

Becca, do you have a favorite blog post (that you've written)? Oh. That I've written. Yes. But it's not very fun. Good writing, serious emotion. Here it is, again. And also, this one, which is much less serious. Thank you for asking. Do you?

Becca, what are you reading right now? I assume you mean the right now that I'm not typing this post. In that case, UNWIND by N. Shusterman. Shuddery-good. And also SAVVY by Ingrid Law. Funny, sweet, great. Neither have I finished. I'm thinking about reading SAVVY to the Kids for read-aloud fun, but I wonder if I need to finish pre-reading first.

Becca, what are your favorite books that you haven't written? You assume much, grasshopper. In no particular order: THE GUERNSEY LITERARY AND POTATO PEEL PIE SOCIETY by Shaffer and Burrows, PRIDE AND PREJUDICE by Mistress Jane Austen, PEACE LIKE A RIVER by Lief Enger, THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV by Fyodor Dostoyevsky, THE BOOK THIEF by Markus Zusak, TODAY I WILL FLY by Mo Willems***, LES MISERABLES by Victor Hugo, and THE POISONWOOD BIBLE by Barbara Kingsolver.

Becca, what are you doing to keep yourself busy with Husband out of town? Um, 4 kids on 4 school schedules, writing long blog posts, napping (just kidding, Husband!), not much housecleaning (but it will happen... someday), riding my bike, yoga, watching not-very-trashy chick-flicks, and cooking food. And eating food. And cleaning up the kitchen, hiding evidence of all that food.

Becca, what's going on with that play you teased us about? Oh. Right. Annie Get Your Gun. Kids 1 and 2 and I are "ensemble" cast members, which requires a couple evenings a week, Saturday mornings, and no line memorizing. It's perfect. You know, for small-town community theater. Our Annie is great - she's got such a voice on her. Yowza.

Becca, if we have more burning questions, what should we do? Why, leave them in the comments, certainly. I'll be happy to answer all manner of questions you ask, along with those you don't.

*Except, don't.

**That was a Grandpappy word. He was my dad's dad. And a certifiable Grammar Snob. So it's okay to use it.

***Who is, in case you've maybe been on a different planet for the last 10 years, a GENIUS.

Love to Hate

So here are a few things that I don't like, and I'm totally okay with that.

I love to hate:

1. Television. Ick. If you love "reality TV" that is totally okay with me, but don't expect me to watch it with you, or even be able to take part in a conversation about it. I have never watched American Idol. Or The Biggest Loser. Or, for that matter, The Office (except once, and it was funny, but not change-my-schedule funny, or buy-TiVo funny) or 30 Rock. I just don't do it.

2. Chocolate cake. Husband has threatened to have me tested for serious genetic disorders, but I'm totally going with it. I can bake one, and frost it, and serve it on pretty plates, but I'm not eating that. I'll save my calories for something smothered in butter, thanks.

3. Twangy Country Music. I probably don't even need to explain this, but I had a friend in High School - we called him Bonzo. As in Bonzo Beans. That wasn't his name. But he was this absolutely magnetic guy. People loved him, and cops didn't give him tickets (ever) and he was just the kind of guy you wanted to give money to, you know? And he loved country music. The twangier, the better. For him (because I was not-so-secretly harboring a mighty crush) I listened to, learned, and sang many, many of the twangiest songs in the history of music. You and me going fishing in the dark, lying on our backs and counting the stars, where the cool grass grows. Barbecue chicken in aluminum foil, just enough money for my gas and oil. (Those sound like they could be from the same song. Maybe they are - I've forgotten the finer points after all these years.) I'll start walking your way, you start walking mine - we'll meet in the middle 'neath that old Georgia pine; we'll gain a lot of ground when we both give a little, ain't no road too long when we meet in the middle. Now the race is on and here comes Pride in the backstretch, Heartache coming to the inside... And, lest we forget, Lord, it's hard to be humble when you're perfect in every way - I can't wait to look in the mirror, cause I get better looking each day. Oh, and I've got friends in low places where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases the blues away. But wait - there's more. Here's a quarter, call someone who cares. See? I gave a goodly portion of my soul to that boy and his music, and after all these years, I can do all that with no help from a single internet search engine. Yikes. Bonzo, still love ya, man, but your music bites. That's alls I'm sayin'.

4. The picture book "Love You Forever" by Robert Munsch. Do I need to tell you why? Let's just leave it at Stalker Mommy scaling a wall to peek in the window at her middle aged son and his wife, sleeping in their bed. (*Shudder*)

5. My favorite picture books made into mediocre movies. 'Nuff said? But hey, if anyone wants to make a horror movie out of "love you forever" I'll be there for auditions.

That Sound

You know that sound, somewhere between exasperation and disgust? That huffy, "uhnnnngh" sound that can be drawn out for several seconds?

Yeah, that.

I called someone this weekend to check if she was still okay to do something she'd agreed to do. Her husband answered the phone.

He called her to the phone, and I heard this:

Him: It's Becca Wilhite.

Her: Uhnnnnngh.

I had to pull the phone up around my head so he wouldn't hear me laughing.

See, the thing is, I always think people are doing that noise about me. I assume they're rolling their eyes, wondering "really, what does she want now?" I have numbers to prove, since the advent of callerID, many of my acquaintances have stopped answering my calls. Proof. Fact. And I am thrilled to report that the latest incident of huffy-angst made me laugh.

Because I'm okay with that. I'm all right with the fact that she was disgruntled, knowing that I was asking her to do something she already committed to, and didn't want to do anymore. It was not my bad. And it was funny.

Husband thinks it's funny, too, and has followed me around this weekend, doing "uhnngh" noises at me whenever I ask him to a) close a window b) grab me a glass c) tuck in a kid d) turn off a light. He's hilarious.

And I'm making HUGE strides. Because weeks ago, that would have hurt my feelings (the phone conversation, not Husband - I'm totally past letting his comedy hurt my feelings). A year ago, it would have made me cry. But now I laugh.

Because, really? That's funny.

It's Friday! Let's Party!

Husband and Kid 4 are heading out tonight for the annual Fathers and Sons' camp-out. Honestly, we're not much for camping in our family. This is why we have a mortgage, you know - so we can sleep in our beds with window screens between us and the bugs. But this Fathers and Sons' thing is a tradition (I'm not sure why), and Husband was sonless for many of his fathering years. Once he took Kid 1, but over my objections. He won. He always wins.

The forecast for tonight at the lake where they're camping is rainy, high of 70, low of 41. This does not sound like prime camping weather to me. But, hey - I'm not going. Being neither a father nor a son has such advantages.

Like this: Netflix is sending the BBC's Pride and Prejudice (both discs) and there will be some serious Girl Stuff going on tonight. We will eat veggie pizza (with pesto and mushrooms and artichoke hearts and onions and spinach and sun-dried tomatoes and green peppers and olives and fresh mozzarella. We will also eat lots, lots, lots of good popcorn with a great deal of butter. (Um, yes. Girls' Night revolves almost completely around food and British accents. Thanks for asking.) There may be some toenail painting, but I make no guarantees - our hands will be full of pizza and popcorn.

Hope your weekend is joyful, too!

How Do I Manage to Do Things Like This?

I accidentally tried out for a community theater play.

But, Becca, you ask, how does one accidentally try out for a play?

Well, I answer, one loses one's mind.

Clearly.

Like this. I took Kid 1 and Friend to the community center so they could try out for the show. They sat/wandered/paced nervously for a while before filling out the audition forms. I yuk-yukked them up and got them comfortable (through the parts of the form that said "You may attach a resume here*" and "You will hand over your firstborn at our convenience**") and basically helped them giggle their way through the nerves. That's the kind of Mom-slash-Friend's-Mom I am. (Right now.)

Then they started telling me I should audition. I was, as you certainly recall from the above paragraph, making a real effort to loosen up some uptight freshmen, so I said, sure. No big deal. Auditions, psht. Whatev. I'll try out with you guys. First I made sure Kid 1 was really okay with that, because all I need is for her to go all "ick, my Mom follows me everywhere" on me. But she was sincere, and her friends (now there were two) were sort of amazed that I'd even consider it.

So Kid 1 went in first, and she sounded great (even though she has a beautiful singing voice, she is a really quiet kid, both singing and speaking). We lurked and maybe pressed our ears to the door. She absolutely shouted her cold read (as she was supposed to - it was an Angry Scene). She got a call-back.

Then Friend went in. She's darling. She sang and read and came out flushed and relieved to be finished.

My turn.

Hey, audition committee. How y'all doing? I'm really here as moral support for the girls. This singing in public part is just icing. Do you have music here that's made for an alto? (Kid 1 is a soprano, and brought Phantom music. Not so much in my range.) So I sang a totally not rehearsed version of Amazing Grace, and did a cold read that was printed in teeny-tiny font not made for me. But it was fine.

I got a call-back, too.

This may end in comedy. We shall see. I'll keep you posted (get it? Posted?). If Kid 1 and I end up as the hottest musical theater sensation mother-daughter act since Judy Garland and Liza Minelli, you can say you knew us when...

*True.

**Not true.