Anniversary @ MindSay

Well Sam,

a year ago today the world lost an amazing person.  It's hard for me to believe that it's been 3 summers since you and I met and worked together.  It was only that one summer you were in my life, but what it lacked in length, it made up for in volume.  Working so closely with you was amazing; I was the newbie, the weird New York girl who didn't know a soul and was pawned off on you to tame the rowdy CITs, and instead of leaving me out and only talking to your close friends, you welcomed me in with your warm smile and those beautiful blue eyes and helped me have a great summer in this new setting.  I've worked there for 4 summers now, and none have compared to the one you and I spent together.  They've all been missing something, and I know for a fact a large part of it is you.

I can't believe how many times you've been with me since you've departed the Earth, Sammy.  How did I get so blessed to still get to feel you near me, when I knew you for such a short period of time and other people (like your sister, or high school friends) had you for as many as 18 years? There wasn't a single day the last 12 months that you weren't on my mind, and so many instances that I could feel you around me, so near like we were sweeping the pavement side-by-side and I could see your pitstains :), that tears would well in my eyes when I realized you weren't.

-- Every time I see someone diving off the board at the pool, I don't see them, I see you.  I see your energy and your SCHS tat and I see the feeling I used to get watching you in your element.  Even the bad dives and jumps and flops make me smile in your memory, Superman.  Always incredible.
-- Or when I see someone balancing something on their hand, I think of your ridiculous skill in this area, and your even more ridiculous lie about being an ex-circus performer.  'Til the end of my days, I promise not to forget your tricks for how to balance "anything".
-- Suffices to say, I can't listen to most country music without thinking of you.  The radio plays an awful lot of Dierks Bentley and Kenny Chesney and Garth Brooks, and I know you have something to do with it, Mr. Sly.  When those songs come on, I close my eyes (unless I'm behind the wheel), and I envision you sitting in the seat on the bus on the way to the D.A.R. for our lake day.  Absolutely blissful.  Of course, Anna Molly by Incubus will always make me think of you, too.  I promise you that.
-- I still HATE Napoleon Dynamite, but I also still quote certain bits of it, like "Do the chickens have large talons?!?" and, "You got like THREE feet of air that time".  Just for you.  Your impressions were dead-on, much better than mine, but I'm doing the best I can.
-- River rafting will always make me think of you.  And your crazy shoe collection!  "These are my river shoes...these are my hiking shoes ... these are my golfing shoes...".  NERD.  I STILL just have one pair of general sneakers that I use for everything, thank you very much...but I miss getting to compare them with you nonetheless.
-- Taking hikes in the woods makes me think of you, my little forester.  I miss you stopping walking on the trails and letting the kids go ahead while I brought up the rear so you could show me different plants I could eat; I would love some wild cucumbers if you get a chance, Sam.  They were delicious.  I'll be on the lookout for Jewelweed, and I forgive you for letting me walk through that patch of poision ivy and then jogging up to me to say, "hey Emily, that was poison ivy youjust went through".  Still think you could have stopped me before it happened, but... big picture.
-- I went for a walk with my co-teacher and aide and student in June, Sam, and she took us through 'The Purple Forest', so of course, I thought of you, and actually cried quietly on the trail as we walked along.  If I give in, if I pretend the trees look slightly purple and end that ridiculous argument, will you come back to us? 

**If you just sat through reading me type through my tears, you're brave.  But now you also owe me.  You have to go to at least one person who means this much to you as he did to me...and tell them.  Before it's too late.  Because I can write this as much as I want, and mean it as much as I do, but he's still gone.  Unless there really is a listening section in Heaven, he'll never know.  And I hate it.

Yesterday was the anniversary of my good friends, Sonya and Jason. They celebrated 5 (?) years of marriage. (The question mark is actually a joke between Sony and myself....it really is 5 years.)

Last year, on their fourth anniversary, they asked if I could possibly help them out by watching their son Dylan, then 8 months. Both of their families live in northern MN, so it isn't convenient to have them come down for an evening so Sony and Jay can go out to dinner. I was happy to oblige and I had my Date with Dylan.

This year, with 5 years fast approaching, I volunteered to help out again. And this time, I had Dylan, 20 months and his new baby sister, Jaysa, 2 months. What a difference!

Last year, Dylan fell asleep about an hour after his parents left and I was hanging out by myself. This year, he is a complete delight and we played, HARD, all evening long. He had a super late nap and didn't go to bed until 10:30 pm. ( I got there at 6:30). He is such a funny kid--he was a little leery of me when I got there, as he had just woken up, but I played with his sister for a bit and it was all good. He warmed up pretty fast and before you know it, we were having a blast! Sony fed Jaysa before they left and then she hung out in her swing while I entertained Dylan.



She seems pretty cool with it, though.

Somehow, in his 20-month-old brain, Dylan associates me with his uncle's girlfriend, a girl named Jess. So, he kept calling me Jess. His parents both told him my name is Olivia and he even said it a couple times, but it must not have sunk in--because I was "Jess" to him all night long.

Once I pulled out the camera Dylan wasn't too sure about it. But then I let him take pictures and showed him how fun it is, he was hamming it up.

  

In the second picture he is showing me his belly button (pointing to it) and screaming "Button!", which he did about 5 times and then I finally got him to do it for the camera.

I even got him to stand by his sister and hold still so I could get them both in.



No smiles, but they're both still and both looking at me. I consider that amazing for 20 and 2 months.

By this time, Jaysa was sound asleep in the swing and he is running around the room screeching at me and she doesn't even flinch...sweet girl.

We played in the living room for a bit, watching Elmo on Youtube, singing the alphabet with India Arie. Dylan knows the whole song and sings it. I wish I could have gotten that on video, it was about the funniest thing I've ever heard. There are no words to describe it--but this little boy LOVES to sing.

Here he is playing IN his toy box.  Yep, inside of the toy box. And Elmo is on behind him and he is singing the alphabet while he plays with his toys. I was cracking up.



Then we wrestled and rough-housed for a bit, because he loves playing rough (definitely a boy) and he was squealing with laughter. So I told him I was tired and laid down and closed my eyes. He started yelling, "Jess! Jess!" over and over again. Then he crept up to me, tapped me on my face and got real close and yelled, "Jess!". I laughed and opened my eyes and then he'd giggle and run away. We must have done this 5 or 6 times, until I was literally wiping tears from my eyes I was laughing so hard. He is very dramatic, screaming Jess!, which isn't even my name and made it that much more funny.

He and I then played in his "big boy" room, he is being transitioned out of the nursery and into a real bed...no more crib. We were having a blast in there when Jaysa woke up and so I brought her in to play with us.  I want to say....no crying from her at all. Not once. She ate, played, slept, woke up silently, played, and eventually ate some more and slept again. Beautiful, easy-going baby.


Here she is on Dylan's "big boy" bed. Just happy to be part of the fun.

Then Dylan climbed up on the bed and was chattering non-stop:



I haven't moved her, but you'll notice she has craned her neck around to look at him while he talks. She clearly knows the sound of her brother's voice. (I love that picture). She was watching him intently while he scampered around playing by her.

Because she's so darn cute, I picked her up and started talking to her, which clearly delights her.



Clearly.

Then before I fed her, I put on her baby sunglasses that I bought her (because they were laying on the counter and I couldn't resist):



Is that the funniest thing you've ever seen or what?

Then I was teasing Dylan that Jaysa was going to sit in his booster chair and I really put her in it. He yelled, "NO" and pushed at her, so I scooped her up and he immediately climbed in it. I was laughing at him until he put out his arms and said, "Jaysa", like he wanted her to sit with him. Okay--so I put her in his lap and he wrapped his arms around her and held on. (I held on, too, no way was I letting him hold her on his own.)



Somehow, with my fourth hand, I managed to dig my phone out of my back jeans pocket and snap this in the 10 seconds he held her on his lap. I'm awesome.

At the end of the night, I was feeding Jaysa and Dylan was starting to flag. I told him to get a book and I'd read him a story while I fed her. He got one, but seemed to have no interest in it. Since turning pages with him on my lap and while feeding her was more challenging than anticipated, I opted to tell him a story instead. I made up this story about a truck and a dog and Dylan and Jaysa and Mommy and Daddy. I made up sound effects and everything, and while I was telling it, Dylan kept making the sound effects for me (after hearing them only once). So I kept on talking and making the story longer just to hear him pipe up whenever I gave him a cue.  It was pretty cool to have that kind of interaction on story I know he's never heard before. When Jaysa finished eating, Dylan was kind of wandering around the room looking tired; I burped her, and then I put her down on the couch and I said to Dylan, "do you want to go to bed?". He looked right at me and said, "yes." I walked over to him and he held up his arms. I picked him up, he kissed me goodnight, I carried him into his room and laid him in his crib and didn't hear another peep out of him. It was so easy.

Then I held Jaysa and snuggled with her for about 15 minutes until she fell asleep. Sony and Jay came home a bit after 11 from their dinner and the three of us chatted and Sony and I had a couple beers. When I left at 1:30, both kids were still sound asleep, so I must have done something right.

What a fun evening. I am so glad that I could help out my friends on their anniversary, and even more glad that I had so much fun while doing it. I bet Dylan told his parents all about his fun evening with "Jess."

I can't help but wonder if there will be another one for the next anniversary?!?!?!?!?

As I approach the two-year anniversary of when my wife foolishly said, “I do” (figuratively, since who actually says that at a wedding?), I’ve been thinking about what we should do to celebrate, beyond dinner at our favorite restaurant (Melting Pot) and presenting her with her shiny new Nokia camera, nothing sounds more appealing than spending time frolicking with our new puppy.

 

That’s right, our all black three and a half month old Portuguese Water Dog (yes, that is the dog Obama has; no, that is not why we got him).  I don’t want to lock myself in a room and write, I don’t want to research agents and publishing houses to pitch, I want to go to a park or a lake or even just the backyard with the woman and the doggie I love. Comparing that sentiment to my honeymoon, when I typed away on a novel while the cruise ship rocked us back and forth, I’ve realized this blog, which started on January 9, all the way back in 2006, has become more of a chronicle of my maturity to adulthood than my attempts to get published.  And perhaps nothing is more evident of that than the massive gaps between posts, stagnant because I’m spending time working my full-time job, or working my recent new part-time job, or working on my house, or working to train the puppy, or the best of all, spending time with my lovely wife.  Our friends are having a baby in a few months.  Our pool is about to be opened and our new grill is begging to start charring.  I’m about to sit on a panel talking to college graduates about working life. When I started this blog, I was a kid.  Now, I’m…an adult. 

 

But that doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned my dreams of becoming a published author.  I’m still waiting for my wife and friend and screenwriter I admire greatly to review my most recent three novels, and while waiting I’ve written a few short stories to send to contests (something I promised myself and this audience I’d do months ago).  But I also recognize that in my absence from this blog, while doing all that growing up, our economy has changed drastically, and with it, so has the publishing industry.

 

One of my first posts was about the insanity of ever expecting to publish a book (especially a fiction novel) outside of self-publishing.  Multiple that message to the umpth degree now, where even the superstar writers of the world are seeing shrinking advances. 

 

But there is still hope.  There is still advice I can offer.  And I present it in the following five tips on how to publish a book in a wretched economy:

1. Make yourself a brand – you may not be a Stephen King or Jody Piccoutt yet, but that doesn’t mean you can’t market like you are.  Create a blog (better than this one), submit articles to online publications, contact local radio stations to see if they’d be interested in the story of who you are and what you’re trying to do (or if you’re a non-fiction writer offer yourself as a guest to discuss your specialization), become the next MySpace phenomenon (but first find the next MySpace, since that site, as well as Facebook and Twitter, are so last month) 
2. Create a package – Just your book isn’t enough anymore; develop the book, as well as online videos, photos or drawings to accompany the text, corresponding articles for outside publications, potential sequels, a graphic novel companion piece, action figures, etc.; whatever is appropriate for your work.  And make it clear that you are willing and able to take on much of the marketing; working on a website, traveling like crazy to multiple book readings and signings, hitting up conferences, phoning into radio show after radio show after radio show (and just so you know: you may have to be the one pitching the radio shows and organization the book signings as well).
3. Polish your writing – Your novel is perfect, right?  No, it could always be better.  Since publishers are barely accepting new work right now, take this time to send your work to friends for their review. Join book clubs.  Edit again and again and again.  Make sure it is beyond perfect, which doesn’t actually exist, like someone giving 110 percent.  See, I’m rambling.  This should be edited.  Don’t ramble.  Edit.  A lot. 
4. Be patient – The economy will rebound, and people will find renewed love for writing, and with J.K. Rowling and Stephanie Meyer motivating new groups of people to read, and with Dan Brown about to excite pro- and anti-religious groups all over again, the market is ripe for growth.  Do what my dog can’t do yet and “stay, stay, good boy.”  You’ll get that treat eventually.
5. Keep writing – The most obvious, corny, important advice I can give; keep writing.  Keep honing your craft.  Keep thinking about that new idea, the one that is so different from everything else out there, the one that the publishers can’t help but pay attention to.  It’s in you, and now, with no pressure weighing you down, is the perfect time to pull it out.

 

I tell you what, let’s make a deal.  If you keep writing, I will.  Okay?  Good.  Let’s get to it. 

 

 

.....since I forgot yesterday, Happy Birthday to my Grandma. She turned 91 yesterday. I got to have lunch/dinner with her today, so I did get to wish her happy in person.

Also, an early Happy Birthday to Peter (how old will you be Peter? 37? I can never remember) who will be celebrating on Friday.

And lastly, Happy Anniversary to my parents. They celebrate 33 years on Friday.

A few random updates just because I can:

-- I'm looking for a good book (or two, or hell, three) to read.  I know SOMEONE on here is a bibliophile and can recommend something to me.

-- The parade today made me cry for 2 reasons.  First, because when I see this old men in their uniforms, I'm forced to think of how much they risked so that other people could have what was deemed a better life.  I am not a fan of war, but I'm more against the bureaucratic decisions to GO to war than I am the men and women who follow orders and fight for millions of people they've never met.  I absolutely support TROOPS.  I also cried because of the low turn-out, related to reason one.  These brave people put so much on the line, actually risked their lives for us or are doing so currently, and I'd say less than 100 people managed to give up 20 minutes of their day to come out and say "hey, thanks for doing that". 

-- The odds of me being given a pink slip on June 1st are about 99.99 to .01.  Sucks.  You know the situation is dire if even TEACHERS aren't guaranteed a job next  year :(.

-- It's finally warmish up here; not what I want (I would be happy if it was 90 every day, and then December it dipped down to...67 (with some snow every few years), but it's warm, and I'm so much happier with it.

-- I took my mom to go see Star Trek today.  I do not go see movies in the theater, but I felt compelled to go out and spend money and pretend to be normal, and I never really liked Star Trek, but enjoyed the movie a lot.  More than I thought I would.  Go see it.

-- I went for a 5-mile walk yesterday, and it was absolutely awesome.  I walked to the high school for 2.22 miles, around the track twice, and then back home.  It was the first time since getting the warning on Friday morning that I haven't thought about the fact that I'm probably going to be let go.  I just put my iPod on low and worked up a good sweat (definitely never realized how steep North Street is because I've never walked up it before) and cleared my head.  Realized that if I work at camp this summer, I could EASILY leave at 7:45 and walking, get there  by 8:30 if not earlier.  I'd leave earlier than that because I'm insane, and then I'd already be sweaty to start a full day working at camp, but it's totally doable.

-- Speaking of camp ... is it really 10 months today, Sammy?  Did we really lose you 10 months ago today?  That can't be possible; that doesn't feel real.  I think about you every day; absolutely every day, if not more than once each day.  When the clock says 8:13, it reminds me of you.  When I hear Incubus or Kenny Chesney or Dierks Bentley on the radio, I close my eyes and float back to our trips on the bus.  People quote Napoleon Dynamite all around me, but none of them bring a smile to my face the way you did when you'd ask me if the chickens had large talons. 
Sometimes, I think about how unfair it is that we had so little time together.  We were friends right away, and you were so welcoming of me even though I was brand new and you were working with people you grew up with.  I always admired your heart and your spirit and your smile, and I wish we'd gotten to know each other even better.  I wish I had reached out and overcome some shyness and approached you after our summer together was done.  I hate the fact that I'll never get to (at least, not on Earth).  I love that I can't shake you, though.  That I'm constantly reminded of you, that you're all  around me, and that THAT knowledge pushes me to stay connected to others.  You inspired all of these letters I've been writing, Sam.  Maybe one day I'll get brave and write you one.  But in the spirit of not letting people slip away, I'm going to go call Lisa.