I am a kind person (most days), think of others (mostly), rarely curse (other than in my head) and never ever litter unless you count the supermarket receipt that escaped recently, flying out of my hand, hopping, skipping and jumping through parked cars until it got ran over by a rolling car. It didn't stop there. The receipt sprung back to life, roll away like a tumbleweed and into traffic. I let that one go because my grocery cart was parked on a hill, the wind was strangling me with my own hair and…I can’t run that fast.
Sometimes you gotta let go.Anyways this brings me to the footprint—not the one in the sand, the footprint that we shouldn't leave behind, the ecological and global footprint. I love the earth. Never want to harm it, but who says I don’t want to leave a footprint when I die? That REALLY bothers me. Do I want it to just disappear with me?
So if I may, I’ve decided to leave one footprint so I’ll be remembered. There will be good and bad associated with the footprint, just as I am good and bad. It will be a size eight with five toes in case you are wondering.
She’s about as perfect as they come. Perky and sweet. A talented dancer. Loves life and enjoys every single celebration we do as a family. Yesterday was her 11th birthday, but we celebrated her with a party, Friday evening.
Not too long ago, she wrote a birthday list for her aunt, Dr. Lovely Daughter. On the list she wrote that she wanted Barbie dolls and clothes, among other things.
She received many Barbie dolls. I gave her two Barbies myself and made her a few dresses. Why? Because the ones you buy are junk. (I also gifted her with a zebra butterfly chair.)
This sundress I made from fabric her great great aunt, Belva Dugan, left behind. (BTW, this is one of the Barbies in our toy room, not one that I gave her.)
This one I made from a pillowcase that I happened to pick up at a thrift store. I have no idea why I bought a random pillowcase, except, I liked the print.
Then there's the wedding dress.
Let’s not mention the two straight pins I found in her mouth. I yelled at her like a hurricane roars, then I hugged her five times. I think there’s something wrong with my parenting skills.
The WritingFor one week solid, I typed nothing because after conferencing with an avid reader of YA, my daughter, she said I needed to get mean with my MC--give her harsh things to handle.
So I outlined again Twice in a Blue Moon, by hand. I didn't' know I could still do that--write on paper. (It now has a new title, more about that another time.) Writing with pencil (eww) helped me focus, too. None of that, OH you’re on your computer, stop typing and surf the Internet, dudette, instead of outlining your book.The book is becoming more solid.
Lots of bad things are happening to my MC because she has a complicated life thanks to the adults in her world. Trust me when I say, it’s the adults who complicate the lives of children. (I'll probably end up hugging her five times.)Wish I could tell you more about the storyline, but then I’d have to, you know—the killing thing.
You’ll find me Thursday, eating big, with my family and being sick that evening. Happy Thanksgiving!May God bless you all!