"Tonight, tonight . . . "

Big doings tonight at our house.
First of all, Y-Chromo received his much anticipated e-mail announcing the cast list for his high school's autumn production of WEST SIDE STORY. Y-Chromo will be playing Tony . . . which (if you're unfamiliar with the play) is the male lead. I suppose I will be hearing about "squirrels named Maria" for the next couple of months.

A few moments later, the telephone rang, and Y-Chromo pounced on it, but it was for me. At first, I couldn't figure out why someone from an RWA Chapter in Florida would be calling me . . . then it hit me as she said the magic words: AND JERICHO BURNED finalled in the 2007 Tampa Area Romance Authors (TARA) contest.

This is the first of several contests in which I entered this book, so I am prodigiously pleased. The TARA Contest (p/k/a FIRST IMPRESSIONS) has a reputation for being a tough contest, so finalling satisfies something deep inside me; the same thing that last year had me whining to chapter-mates during a brainstorming session at the RWA National Conference in Atlanta that I didn't know if I could -- if I am a good enough writer to -- write this story.

Mercury may be in retro, but it was a real good evening here.

What Color Is Your Soul Painted?

A very cool quiz I found on my friend Amy's blog:

What color is your soul painted? Purple Your soul is painted the color purple, which embodies the characteristics of sensuality, spirituality, creativity, wealth, royalty, nobility, mystery, enlightenment, arrogance, gaudiness, mourning, confusion, pride, delicacy, power, meditation, religion, and ambition. Purple falls under the element of Earth, and was once a European symbol of royalty; today it symbolizes the divine. Click Here to Take This Quiz

Quizzes and Personality Tests

Divine! That's me!

Lick My Face

It started with a tingling on my lip. I've never had a cold sore in over half-a-century of living, but I'd read about them, and what I felt was classic cold sore symptom. A couple of days later, a patch under my eye, on the same side of my face, starting hurting. Then my cheekbone -- again, the same side of the face -- then yet another patch under the same eye.

I mentioned something on my crit group loop, and one woman said, GET THEE TO A DOCTOR. IT SOUNDS LIKE YOU HAVE SHINGLES.

What? I thought this excrutiatingly painful disease only happened on one's torso. I did a little online research -- and called my doctor's office 4 minutes after they opened the next morning. You see, if shingles erupt on your face and get into your eye, they can blind you.

I kept hoping that I didn't have it. I work with four pregnant women. Besides, I wasn't in PAIN. Yeah, the patches alternate between tingling, numbness, and itchiness -- with periodic needle-like jabbing. And altho' the latter is definitely uncomfortable, it's not excrutiating. I remember my grandmother's bout with shingles (on her torso and breasts), and it wasn't pretty. At all.

Diagnosis: 90-95% certain I have shingles. Can't test me, because I'm not "weepy" (i.e. oozing pus). I'm on anti-viral meds that make me sleepy. I went to an ophthamologist a day or two later. The disease isn't in my eye.

I'm also not contagious unless I start "weeping", or (as the doctor said) someone licks my face.

Of course, one of my crit partners immediately quipped that she'd planned to lick my face at crit that very week and now she was disappointed.

Trying to joke with one of my pregnant co-workers, I said, "I know the temptation is great, but refrain from licking my face." This was greeted with blank stares. (I work with very nice people, but I have yet to find any kind of common ground with them, including my admittedly whacked, off-the-wall humor.)

There is a bonus to all of this: I have an excuse not to wear makeup.

Music

I love music. Not all music, tho'. I've tried to enjoy opera, but it only puts me to sleep. Nor am I fan of rap/hip hop/gangta whatever, but I'm not of that world, so it's not my music.
One of my friends made a comment this week about country music. It's something people usually either love or hate (she hates it). I enjoy some of it, but it's rarely my first choice for listening pleasure. I did get "into" Toby Keith for a while, because his music was the sound track of a book I wrote, but that is a different place.
I got to thinking about my 10 favorite albums of all time, but then realized that I'd have to rank albums according to periods of my life, probably pre-and-post marriage.
In no particular order, my favorite albums are:
1. BLOOD ON THE TRACKS (Bob Dylan)
2. DESIRE (Bob Dylan)
3. HARVEST (Neil Young)
4. DIAMONDS & RUST (Joan Baez)
5. SO FAR (Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young)
6. TRAVELING WILBURYS, VOLUME I
7. MASK & MIRROR (Loreena McKennitt)
8. YES, I AM (Melissa Etheridge)
9. MONSTER (Steppenwolf)
10.MODERN TIMES (Bob Dylan)

Gee, not one country album made my top ten.
But neither did a lot of my favorite performers of all time: The Moody Blues; Donovan; Melanie; Connie Dover; The Grateful Dead; Joni Mitchell, more Neil Young albums (Harvest Moon; After the Goldrush; Living with War), the Grass Roots.

I guess my musical tastes can't be pigeon-holed.

How about you? What music frees your spirit and what puts you to sleep?

Adventures in Parenting

We're in an "All Y-Chromo All The Time" mode. It's tiring, to say the least. Every day, usually in the evening, we're doing something related to his music, his academics, his drama.

I know, I know, it could be worse. I could be bailing him out of jail, taking him to juvie court, etc., but sometimes this Mom wants to scream, "ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!"

Last weekend, X-Chromo was invited to a birthday party -- a party thrown together at the last minute -- which conflicted with family plans we'd made weeks earlier. She was disappointed that she couldn't attend, and let me know that she was upset. "You do EVERYTHING for Y-Chromo, and I never ask you for anything!"

She's right. She doesn't ask, and we seem to spend every free moment accommodating his schedule. But in this instance -- how can TV & I be responsible for last-minute planning on someone else's part? Everything worked out -- the party was moved so X-Chromo could attend (SHREK III, followed by lunch at Johnny Rocket's). She and I went to the mall early to look for a graduation dress for her . . . and she chose the perfect dress. I enjoyed her company so much, I wish we could do it more often.

I miss one-on-one time with Y-Chromo -- he's so busy with outside activities that that's all we have time for. Example: today he had his SATs and a jazz ensemble competition at a major amusement park about three hours west of our city. I had my writing meeting. Last night and this morning, our conversations consisted of: "You need two pencils, an eraser, your graphing calculator, your reeds, your sax, and your ticket into the SATs. Oh, and your photo ID."

Y-Chromo: "Leave me alone. I know what I need. Which is $40 for meals at the Amusement Park."

Me: "And let me give you $10 to give to the mom who's driving you to Amusement Park after the SATs to help with gas." (Her son was in the same situation as Y-Chromo -- registered for the tests without realizing there was a band competition, so she offered to drive. I had a writers' meeting.)

I don't know how parents with more than two children juggle everything. I don't know how parents whose children are athletic manage. I should be grateful Y-Chromo is into the performing arts, and that X-Chromo is into watching television.

But I was never as busy as these children are today. What happened in the past 30, 35 years that turned students into overworked drones and their parents into their servants?