Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails

You know, I'm sitting in front of this blank screen with absolutely nothing to write.

Oh, I have plenty I'd like to unload - but some things can't be shared on a public forum.

And shouldn't be, really.

Wouldn't it be nice if everything that should be left unsaid, was?

Somebody, give me a push

My imagination is trying to get my attention. I've ignored it for so long, it's stored up like a dam ready to bust.

I love to write. It's as natural as breathing to me.

I've always wanted to write fiction, but my butt never stays stuck to the chair long enough to finish anything. At first I told myself I wasn't good enough. Now I know I am - I just haven't taken the plunge.

There is this thing that is trying to click in me. I've felt shades of it before, but now it feels like I'm almost there. Like if I just start to write, the story will take off on its own and write itself. It's like the breakthrough that happens when your brain makes the leap from learning the fundamentals of a language to actually getting it - to actually thinking in that language. A Helen Keller moment.

I'm almost there. Teetering on the edge. The water is pushing at the dam, but I can't quite figure out how to break it.

I wonder what happens next?

Times like this

Another Thanksgiving gone.

I didn't cook this year. I also didn't start smoking cigarettes again. Which is progress.

Our entire meal was catered by Cookie's Soul Food Kitchen in Liberty. It was pretty good, but we had quite a line waiting for the microwave to heat up dinner. The best part was the sweet potato casserole - yum!

I'll probably cook next year - it just wasn't the same without the familiar favorites.

Other than that it was eat, sleep, play dominoes, watch a movie, etc. Pretty boring really. And I have to work tomorrow. Which sucks.

I miss my dad.

The story of Joseph

I have completely become a slacker!

I recovered from my mystery illness. Thanksgiving is almost here - YAY! And I just celebrated my youngest son's birthday on Saturday. He turned 9. I can't believe it's gone by so fast.

Joseph is a very special kid. He wasn't exactly planned, but he wasn't exactly unplanned either. He was conceived on Valentine's Day in the usual manner. Nothing else about him has been usual.

He is my 4th child. While I carried him I was completely convinced (with the help of 3 ultrasounds) that he was a girl. It would be perfect. I'd have two boys and two girls and all would be right with the world. The church I was attending at the time gave me an incredible baby shower with the most beatiful little girl clothes you could imagine. My name for the baby was Sarah Elisabeth.

In church one day, God dropped the name Joseph on me. I knew, without a doubt, the baby's name was going to have to be Joseph. I didn't even consider the baby might be a boy. It was clear to me I would have to name my little girl Joseph. Not Josephine... Joseph.

My due date of November 11th came and went and my belly felt heavier and heavier. It became hard to even walk. Having had some experience with big babies (my second, Nathan, was 10 lbs. 1 oz., and my third, Katie, was 10 lbs.), I finally went to the doctor on November 17th and begged for relief.

"I feel like this baby is really big. Get her out."

"You're just tired of being pregnant."

"Yes, and I feel like this baby is really big. Get her out."

Disgusted sigh. "Ok. If you just can't handle it anymore I'll make arrangements to induce you tomorrow." He reaches for the phone and begins to punch numbers.

"Wait. How big do you think the baby is? Should I wait?"

Sigh + eye roll. "The baby is probably between 7 and 8 pounds right now. I prefer not to induce, but if you're this tired we'll go ahead and arrange it."

Great, now I have guilt.

He tells me to be back at the hospital by 5 the next morning to be induced.

I start feeling funny at about midnight. Contractions become regular and a little painful, so I take a shower, shave my legs, and fix my hair and make-up between contractions. I even feel motivated enough to paint my toenails. Now blood is coming so I wake up the dad.

"It's time to go."

He squints at the clock. "No it's not. It's only 4. We don't have to leave until 4:30."

Contraction hits. "We have to go NOW. I am already in labor."

He gets up and throws on clothes. We have to stop for gas at 4 in the morning. Yes, he has a week-long overdue pregnant wife and doesn't have gas in his truck.

At the hospital, my labor is confirmed. Four hours later, after a delightful epidural, they tell me I'm only 7 centimeters dilated and have a while to go. Everybody leaves to take a break, including Dad who goes out for a cigarette.

My sister, Terri, helps me flip onto my side and I feel pressure. She runs out to get the nurse, who doesn't want to come back because she just checked me. Terri bodily forces the nurse to come back, nurse lifts my leg, gasps, stuffs a pillow between my legs and tells me to hold on. The baby's head is crowning and they have to get the doctor.

Joseph was born a few minutes later with only two pushes. I have never felt such exquisite relief in my life. Not only was he a boy, he was big. He weighed 10 pounds, 4 ozs. And he was beautiful.

From the beginning he was calm and cuddly and wonderful. He is bright, funny, and like all of my children, wise beyond his years.

My idea of perfect was two boys and two girls. But God gave me a wonderful bonus with Joe. Good thing He knows better than me.

There are some places the human hand was never meant to go

I've spent the entire day laying on the couch, running a fever.

Absolutely no symptoms other than vaguely feeling like crap. I'm positive this is karma coming to bite me on the @$$ after my conversation with the Divine Ms. T yesterday about the pros and cons of getting a flu shot.

Quit gloating, Missy.

There's a lot of time to think when you're suffering on a couch. And a lot of time to sleep, read, and watch really bad t.v.

I actually watched a documentary on Okie Noodling this afternoon. I don't know why it's not an Olympic sport. Apparently it's the number one fishing sport for people in Oklahoma who can't afford fishing poles or bait.

These guys go wading through creeks, rivers, ponds and lakes, feeling for holes on the mucky bottoms where mutant-big catfish have backed in and made a home. When the guys find a hole, yippee skippee, they dive under, stick their hands in the catfish's mouth, and pull it out.

Note: I didn't see a single woman participating in this, shall we say, fascinating tradition.

I did actually get to hear a guy say, "Well, I got bit by a copperhead last week messin' around where I prolly shudna been."

His long-suffering wife didn't miss a beat. "I knew if I could just get him to a hospital with some good medicine, he'd make it. He always does."

He always does, doesn't he Sweety?

You should have seen me trying to drive home

I did the double whammy thing today and went to the eye doctor and regular doctor.

There's good news and bad news.

The good news is I have a hernia, not some weird infection or tumor, that could possibly result in an insurance-paid-for tummy tuck - yay me!

The bad news is that after 28 years of wearing hard contact lenses, my corneas are becoming scarred. So I have to switch to soft lenses and/or have Lasik (sp?) surgery. This means I can't see very well right now - and probably won't for a while - while my eyes adjust to soft lense contacts. Yippee skippee.

Oh well. After the tummy tuck news, it's all good.

Work ruins everything

Thanksgiving is just around the corner at last. I love it. Food, parades on t.v., football, more food, card games, board games, dominoes, more food. What's not to love?

Except I found out we work on the day after Thanksgiving. That sucks. One of my favorite things about Thanksgiving is it's a guaranteed 4-day weekend.

Not this year.

I feel a time-delayed case of the flu coming on.

The naked truth

I've been trying not to let so much time go between posts, but life gets in the way.

I slept late today, spent hours at Walmart with four kids, and have been watching tv ever since. And I didn't put on make-up.

That may seem like a small thing - but for me, it's not. Those of you who know me get it.

The first time I heard of "Sarah, Plain and Tall," I felt like someone had actually written a book about me. That is my perfect description. I have non-descript coloring, neither dark nor light. My eyelashes are invisible and my eyes are small and weak. I'm taller than the average bear (thanks, Yogi), and pretty forgettable, appearance-wise. That's tough for a hopeless romantic who would rather be beautiful.

I learned to apply make-up at an early age and have been hiding behind it ever since. The more insecure I feel in a situation, the more make-up I put on. It gets old. I would love to be able to hop out of bed and go.

There's something to be said, though, for the ritual of getting ready for the day. I listen to music and think about things. I'm not a morning person, so it gives me time to wake up.

Anyway, I decided to face the world today make-up free. I didn't die. No small child screamed, "Mommy, what is it?!?" I didn't run into anyone I know, thankfully.

It was a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.