Monthly Archives: March 2017

You’re letting your daughter wear that?!

“You’re letting your daughter wear that?!” The tone of her voice inferred many, many more question marks and exclamation points.

 

I’d showed an acquaintance a picture of Thing 1 in her homecoming dress and received that particular comment. It is a beautiful creation, floor-length with bead and lace applique over the bodice and shoulders. There were no bits or body parts hanging out, no straps showing or peek-a-boo features. Thing 1 had picked the dress and paid for half of it, our requirement to make sure she picks something we all agree on and is appropriate. She was beautiful in the dress. You decide:

Thing1

(I swear, my children aren’t headless…)

So when this other mother made her comment, my inner MamaBear heckled. In true in-your-face fashion, I asked (as calmly as possible) what she thought was wrong with the dress. “It just seems a bit revealing and over the top.” (insert snide smile before she turned to leave)

 

At first, I was angry. The dress is nowhere near immodest OR revealing (in my opinion), unless you require all girls to wear turtlenecks. Then it made me think back to the comment the same lady made about my nose ring. It’s as if she likes picking at trivial, physical matters.

 

And it’s not as if I haven’t stuck my foot in my mouth. I do…often. But I hope anyone who reads this remembers that Jesus didn’t hang out exclusively with the perfectly dressed. If you’re passionate about something, I get it! But what I chose to wear or allow my kid to wear doesn’t affect our salvation. And shaming another Christian into a corner isn’t the answer either.

 

It’s a dress. Move on and let go.

rant

(giphy.com)

P.S. I’ve already had the “stumbling block” verse thrown at my head for said nose ring. But if it makes you feel better, have at it.


Mr. DeMille, I’m ready for my close-up.

I filled out a stack of paperwork last week for my agent: forms for my bio, a W9, project sheets, proposals, and my blood type. No, just kidding on that one. Maybe. And there’s more to do, including a new photograph.

 

To be honest, headshots stress me out. Do I go with a natural, outdoorsy feel or an inside picture? Hands down and clasped together or under my cheek? Glasses on or off? Smile with teeth or without? Props?

glamour

Of course, I’m waiting until after my hair appointment this week to tackle this issue, but I’m still wrestling with doubt and anxiety. Never was one to take many pictures of myself. My “selfies” list on my phone are 99% pictures of my spawn. Dirty Hobbitses.

 

When I do have pictures taken, even with the fam, I over-analyze. I’m slouching. My teeth aren’t white enough. I have a double-chin from looking down.  There’s glare on my glasses. And why in the world was I wearing a blazer? I don’t wear blazers.

 

I’d say wish me luck, but I actually don’t believe in it. But I do believe in the powers of an amazing photographer and filters.

 

Given a choice, I’d have a avatar of a winking cat as my picture (like this guy from mrwallpaper.com).

wink

I mean…it looks just like me. Close enough…


I’m a Bookie

It really wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. My Mount Hermon mentor, Sarah Sundin, wanted to touch bases with me about my writing. Our original meeting had been bumped, so we opted to meet in the ice cream shop one night.

 

Let me just say that some of my finer author geek-out moments have been in that same shop: staring at Steve Laube and helping my friend stay calm when Robin Gunn Jones was seated near our table. I’m known for my ability to stalk. I present into evidence, Francine Rivers’ pretty umbrella on the right:

IMG_6694

But I digress…

 

So Sarah and I settled into a corner booth. I don’t even remember if we were very far into our conversation when Rachel Kent sauntered in for her own treat. Sarah invited her over to sit with us. I felt like the new kid sitting across the table, trying not to dribble ice cream on my shirt and give halfway intelligent answers. At the end of our cones/styrofoam bowls, Rachel asked me to send in my first three chapters.

fangirl

Today, I’m pleased to announce that Rachel is my agent with Books & Such Agency! (They call their authors Bookies.)

 

“But wait, Sarah, you said you were going indie!”

 

Yes. Yes, I did. However, God decided that I needed one of these:

dinozzo-head-slap-o

And if that’s all it takes to get my attention this time, I’ll take it!


Rabid Sports Fan

I have a confession this morning. You know those insane sports fans who lose it at the umpires/referees/officials? The ones who are cringe worthy and should keep their big, fat mouths shut? That was me last night.

rabies

I should’ve shut up and kept updating my friend on my phone. But my brain had other ideas. And it was too late when I realized that I looked like a raging idiot. Why couldn’t I edit myself?

 

There was certainly no love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, or gentleness. Self-control?

right

This morning, I’m dealing with a few issues.

  1. I’m embarrassed that I was a rabid moron.
  2. Thankfully, the season is over, so I have no more opportunities to transform into another idiot.
  3. I still believe the referee made terrible calls.
  4. …but that doesn’t excuse my actions.

 

I’m not looking for sympathy here. Just telling you all that recognizing one’s idiocy on a public blog helps keep my humility in check. It’s like letting you be a part of my face palm moment. And I have loads of them.

 

Maybe you do too. Feel free to blabber away or head slap me. 😉


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