Wednesday, December 25, 2013

I found Christmas in a busy restaurant |

I found Christmas in a busy restaurant |
This is an article I wrote for KSL. It's about a random act of kindness that I was privileged to witness.   

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Thank you

I have to say I am completely shocked at how many people have read my article on KSL. This is mostly due to the fact that while in my Journalism class at Utah State years ago, I was picked weekly as the "what not to do" example. The best part was that the teacher never even bothered covering my name when he passed around my papers. Finally on the last class of the semester I was picked for having written the best article. . . my Dad wrote it. 

 It was very different for me to write a serious article as most of what I write is the opposite of serious. So if you need a good laugh now, then I hope you will give my book "A Half Fast Memoir" a try.

To all of you who have left such kind comments, words of wisdom and shared your personal stories, Thank you.


The following is one of the stories from my book.

Is It Your Birthday Again?

With twelve of us in the family, birthdays came quite frequently. In fact, I think it was about once a year for each of us. For someone who enjoys shopping, buying birthday gifts may not seem like a daunting task, but for someone that loathes shopping it’s just that. Anytime we mention shopping to Mom we always get the same response, “Eww yuck! I hate shopping.”
Something that helped ease Mom’s dread of shopping was the dawning of the Internet. Years ago, our home phone and Internet shared the same line. When Mom discovered online shopping, the phone lost its share. So unless we were lucky enough to reach her during a potty break we were left to our own devices. This was especially awesome when one of us was stranded somewhere waiting for a ride. Mom spent hours on the Internet looking for bargains. She signed up for every “free” deal that came her way and she got what she paid for.
To put it nicely, we received some pretty unusual birthday presents, many of which were some of her Internet finds. These included Mary Kay samples, clothes that were three sizes too small, free trinkets or gadgets that we didn’t want and wouldn’t use and anything else that came as part of a free trial offer.
My nephew, Taylor, was given a “Captain Morgan” t-shirt from Mom for his sixteenth birthday. She got it on sale at a thrift store. Mom didn’t know Captain Morgan is an alcoholic drink. What she did know was that at one dollar, the price was right. That was bad for sure, but the most ridiculous part was that the shirt didn’t even match the fluorescent orange booty shorts that I gave him.
If Mom didn’t find gifts on the Internet, then she’d rummage through the cupboards or bookshelves trying to find something to re-gift. I’m sure my oldest brother, Bob, loved receiving prenatal vitamins for his 40th birthday.
And it still warms my heart to remember Angela’s face when she was re-gifted a book that she had given Mom years before. It had been signed to Mom by the author.
One birthday, Mom and Dad surprised me and visited my apartment while I was away at school. They brought dinner for my roommates and me. After we ate, it was time for me to open my present. This year’s gem and Internet freebie was a CD ROM cleaner. It was a cheap, little plastic box with a circular piece of foam the size of a CD inside, finished off with a little hand crank. It included a small spray bottle of cleaner. The idea was to spray the CD, place it in the box on top of the foam and crank the handle. I didn’t own a computer let alone any software CDs. At least I think that’s what a ROM is. After trying to wrap my brain around this enigma I had received, I heard Mom say that the only condition of my gift was that she and Dad be able to borrow it. It made sense to me that there would be a “condition” placed on such a valuable item and even more sense that she and Dad would want to borrow it. I think the greatest gift I really received that day was the gift of becoming a little more humble. I knew myself all too well. If I hadn’t agreed to let them borrow this high-end electronic mechanism, surely I would have become materialistic and worldly and they covetous.
The CD Rom cleaner was obviously priceless, but nothing beat the year I turned 15. Mom made my favorite lemon Jell-O cake for my birthday. Only she didn’t have a lemon Jell-O packet—a crucial ingredient in a “lemon” Jell-O cake. In true Mom fashion she went in search for a substitution and something she already had. Mom opened the cupboard and spotted a box of cherry Jell-O. She ignored the “cherry” part and was just glad that she had found some Jell-O to use.
Since I had learned my colors some years previously, Mom must have figured out that I might notice that something was amiss on account of the cake being red instead of yellow. A distraction became necessary.
Birthday candles would do the trick. Naturally, we didn’t have any. Unnaturally, Mom decided to use our emergency preparedness candles.
Going once again to the cupboard, Mom found the aged brown paper sack that housed our wide array of emergency preparedness candles. There were tea lights and aromatherapy candles, votive and two long-skinny candles suitable for a romantic dinner. Some were golden and ornate and one was simply a solitary Christmas countdown candle. It had previously been used and was melted down to day “12”. The colors of the candles varied and all of them had already been used many times in the different blackouts we had had over the years.
Laying the candles on the table, Mom set to work “decorating” my cake. The final result was a peaceful smelling, Christmas colored, romantically inclined cake that had huge craters in it where the candles had been crammed.
Surrounding the craters were seas of multi-colored wax. One candle stood out even more than the rest. The 18 inch spiral, puke green colored candle had long ago broken in half and now looked like a pair of nun-chucks, with the wick holding the two sides together. Mom had planted each end of the candle at opposite ends of the cake, the wick between them creating a magnificent arch. My eyes wandered from this Salvador Dali scene she had made to the lone Christmas candle in one corner. At first glance I had thought the Christmas candle to be completely out of place, but when I saw how the puke green arch dripped onto the blood red cake, I thought, “I get that.”
When the time for opening presents arrived, I could hardly contain my excitement. There inside the beautiful layers of grocery sack wrapping paper held together with a single piece of scotch tape lay a new outfit. Although, who these clothes were purchased for I did not know. It seemed difficult to believe that they were purchased for me. I tried on the shirt first. It exposed a good portion of my midriff. I then tried on the pants. The pants didn’t get past my knees. As I modeled this outfit for my family, everyone, including me thought it was hilarious. Well almost everyone. Mom began to cry, until Dad pointed at the cake and said, “Seriously Connie. Look at that monstrosity. You aren’t the one that should be crying right now.” This time we all laughed.
I recently commented on this story to Dad. I asked him why in the world we didn’t take a picture of that cake.
He laughed and replied, “Because it wasn’t unusual.”

 Click here if you're interested in purchasing A Half Fast Memoir.
And if you like it, please pass it along. I would so appreciate it! Thanks!!


KSL article comment.

I have been reading all the comments that people have left both here on my blog and on KSL for my article, "I didn't marry my soulmate".

I just have to tell you all how touched I am at your kind words. My only regret with that article is that I didn't say that my husband also didn't marry his soul mate. Neither of us thought we did (of course we were still in love), but both of us are very aware after 9 years of marriage how incredibly lucky we are to have each other and that's what matters.

I do believe that there are soul mates out there. I also believe that we create our own happiness. Certainly all chances for love and happiness are not lost if the person you thought was meant for you, ended up choosing someone else. Certainly there will be another with whom you can be just as happy. The whole reason I wrote this article was because I have noticed a growing trend in crumbling marriages among my age group. A lot of which was a result from a "grass is greener" mentality. Sadly, most later realize that it isn't. I had heard one too many times from people, "I just didn't marry the right person". Why that may be true in a few cases, I think the majority of marriages can work and can result in happiness.

My husband and I both decided to marry someone that perhaps wasn't who we initially thought was who we would end up with. That isn't depressing or sad, in fact it is the opposite. It has brought us both peace of mind knowing that our marriage is whatever we make it. Neither of us want it to fail so we work toward it working forever. Because of that we are happy. Soul mates or not, at some point everyone is going to go through tough times that make them question their choice. Remembering why we chose that person in the first place and how lucky we are to have them quickly helps us realize just how fortunate we are. That's how I feel . . .fortunate, very very fortunate.   

Friday, November 22, 2013

A Half Fast Memoir

You have hopefully enjoyed my crazy family stories that I have related through the years. Now those stories and many others are available in the form of a book.

"A Half Fast Memoir" is live in the Kindle Store and it is available* for readers to purchase here.

You can upload the book to a Kindle or any other device where the FREE kindle App has been downloaded. (IPAD, IPHONE, COMPUTER, ETC.)
I priced the book at $3.99 in hopes that many people could afford it. If you like the book, please tell your friends and family about it and if you wouldn't mind leaving a review on Amazon that would be awesome too! Thank you so much for all of the support and encouragement. I have the greatest group of friends, followers and family. I love you guys and I really hope you enjoy A Half Fast Memoir.


Description of A Half Fast Memoir

"Growing up in a family of twelve, things were at times "Half Fast", but that's when life got hilarious. Half Fast is a collection of bizarre but true stories from my life. Stories like Mom wanting to sacrifice a lamb in our suburban backyard, signing my brother and I up for a pain study and giving me my dead Grandma's tights for Christmas. Also included are my personal bad choices like running a marathon, hypno-birthing, and assaulting myself with my own arm. Whether you are laughing with us or at us, it only matters that you are laughing. Enjoy!"

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

What Women Want

A little while ago, I asked my husband to do something. He did it . . . and then I got mad at him for not doing it the way I wanted him to.

I do that sometimes.  I'm sure a lot of women do. For example, it's OK for me to yell at or spank the kids, but when my husband does it, sometimes I come to their rescue or tell him to calm down. This is ridiculous since my husband is about one calm step from dead. The man is never riled up and rarely loses his cool. He handles the kids way better than I do.

On that particular night I thought about how I had gotten mad after my husband had just done what I had asked. Then all of the sudden lightening struck and I burst out laughing. Travis asked me what was so funny. I replied,

"Do you know what women want?"

He responded, "Of course not."

I nodded and then looked at him with an amused expression on my face. "I want you to be me, only better. . .I want you to be the best version of me."

It sounded ridiculous coming out of my mouth and I knew it, but it didn't make it any less true.

It was like I had had a major epiphany. I want him to do things like I would, handle situations like I do, but better than I actually do and better than I actually am.

I guess I have given up on making me better so I just work on him now. I think that's what nagging is. I also realize that it may be working. Now I will continue free of guilt. I'm so glad he learned such a valuable lesson. I bet he is too.

Monday, October 7, 2013


Does anyone else think the Febreze commercials are a little ridiculous? (I'm sorry Febreze, I'm sure your product is good. All I know is that every time I'm pregnant the smell makes me chunder. Incidentally for all of you who were wondering what "chunder" is--you now know.)

Febreze's latest commercial shows a couple on a romantic getaway at a nice beach house.At the end of their stay the Febreze people pick up the couch cushions where the couple has been lounging for the past week and the underneath is filled with garbage. Surprise!! Somehow the couple is totally fine with it and somewhat thrilled. "We had no idea!!! Haha ha That's so wonderful!"

Umm what?? Even if I couldn't smell the stench, I really can't imagine being delighted that I had been deceived by the beach owners and that I had been napping, watching TV, and making out all week long only a few inches from maggot-covered food. And what did they do to our tooth-brushes while we were at beach?   

I hope for Halloween they up their game commercial-wise. I really want to see where they go with them. I hope this time it's a body that's been kept under the couch cushions in a special compartment. I'd kill to see that couple.

"My goodness. We had no idea! That's delightful!"
"Yes, I couldn't even smell the decaying flesh!"

On a positive note, I have stopped cleaning up the house. I just shove all the garbage and poopy diapers under my couch and spray a little Febreze. It's wonderful!!

Side note:
I have to give credit where credit is due. The third paragraph was all my husband. We're a good team.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Not Your Breakfast of Champions

This morning I was getting the kids breakfast before school.I noticed an open bag of Kit Kats on the counter and wondered why they were there. I put them back in the cupboard for Halloween.

My husband left for work a few minutes later, but stopped short. "Who took my breakfast?" He asked looking around confused.

I looked confused too. "You said you didn't want anything, so I didn't make you anything."

He didn't respond as he was busy looking for his breakfast. That's when it hit me. I stopped short. "Wait . . .are you referring to the bag of Kit Kats that was left on the counter as your 'breakfast'??"

Travis looked up relieved, "Yah, where are they?"

I just stared at him. "Let me get this straight. You are going to eat a HALF bag of Kit Kats. . .all in one sitting . . . for your breakfast?"

Travis looked at me like I was being ridiculous. "It's not all Kit Kat's in there. It's Reeses, Snickers and Twix too."

I stared at this man that I had chosen of my own free will and choice to marry, this man that for all intents and purposes is incredibly smart. "You do realize that's not any better right?"

He just rolled his eyes.

Before he shut the door I called out to him, "Please raise the amount of our life insurance policy today while you're at work and make sure it's submitted before you fall into your diabetic coma."

I guess that's why you don't buy Halloween candy this early and why we have life insurance.

Sunday, September 22, 2013


Many of you know that I am a Christian, some of you don't. The gospel of Jesus Christ and my personal beliefs are very important to me. Today I had the opportunity to speak in my church. I wanted to share my talk with any of you who may be interested in what I believe. I know it is not humorous like most of my posts, but it is what I believe. I want to share it with you. Perhaps some of you are struggling with life, like I sometimes do. I hope this helps.   

Kate Lee
Talk in church.
Sept. 22, 2013

When I finally decided to go on my mission I was incredibly excited and a lot naïve. My brothers tried to tell me that the mission would rock me to the core at times, that it would be the hardest thing I had ever done. It went in one ear and out the other. All I knew was that I knew I was supposed to go and I wanted to go more than anything.

Within two weeks in the mission field, in Italy, I understood what my brothers were saying and it rocked me to the core. This was going to be extremely hard.

I’d say the mission is 80% extremely hard and 20% wonderful. There was depression, extreme fatigue, lack of understanding, rejection, guilt, questioning why I’d come and extreme loneliness.

Had I known how hard the mission would be I would never have gone. I remember writing my Dad and asking him, “Why didn’t you tell me this would be so hard? How could you do that to me?”

His response was simply. “You wouldn’t have understood. You can’t have the mission experience without the mission.”

This week I had somewhat of a meltdown. It happens every so often with me. When the economy hit it took us and many others with it. This week I was reminded that six
years later things still aren’t much better. Sometimes that gets hard.

My husband and I talked about in the scriptures where we read that each of us shouted for joy at the prospect of coming to Earth. And suddenly it hit me. I remembered the night before I went on my mission, the excitement, the childlike innocence, the immense faith. Even though my brothers had tried to warn me, I couldn’t understand. How could I? Perhaps it was the same in the pre-existence. In that state of complete innocence, how could we understand what it would be like to lose a child, or not be able to have one. To lose a spouse or not be able to have one. To suffer addiction, to have a terminal illness, to have children stray and spouses who are abusive. To not be able to provide, to suffer from mental illness and many other things. 

Maybe we didn’t shout for joy at the process. Maybe we shouted because we knew the end result.

Perhaps the pre-existence me was a little like the pre-mission me.

I remember sitting in a zone conference and looking around the room at the other missionaries. They were dejected, exhausted. A lot of them felt like failures. An Elder that I knew well, he was amazing, one of the best, full of faith, raised his hand. He asked, “Why aren’t we having more baptisms?”

Then came the well meaning, but harsh reply. “Because you don’t have enough faith.”

Thank goodness for the spirit which in that moment spoke to me and told that was simply not true.

Afterword I went up to that Elder. I explained to him my feelings. I told him that faith will lead us to those who are ready to hear, faith will give us what we are to say in the moment we need to say it and faith will sustain us in those incredibly difficult times, but faith cannot make someone else be baptized. Everyone has their own agency.

 It is the same with life. Faith may not cure a child’s cancer, faith may not bring back a dying spouse or cure their terminal illness, faith may not bring back a straying child, or cure a horrible addiction. It may not cause parents to get the child they so desperately want or someone to find a spouse in this life. Faith may not cure a handicap or depression.

In regards to all of those things, often on the mission, people would say, “Why would God do that to people?” The answer is simple. He wouldn’t.

Life is life. Life simply happens. Children get to choose just as adults do, addiction has consequences, people get sick, life is full of depression, extreme fatigue, rejection, guilt and extreme loneliness.

Perhaps we will all return and ask like I did of my earthly father. “Why didn’t you tell me this would be so hard?” Perhaps the answer will be the same. “Because you would not have understood. You cannot have the life experience without experiencing life.”

God did not cause us to lose a job and neither did lack of faith, just in the same way that faith may not cause us to make more money or sell my book or get me a house.
However Faith will sustain us each of us in our darkest times. Faith will make our burdens light.
Life is not fair because none of us chose the plan that was all about fair. We chose the plan that would get us back to Heavenly Father with more understanding, humility, love, patience and faith.

" The fact is that most putts don't drop. Most beef is tough. Most children grow up to be just ordinary people. Most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration. Most jobs are more often dull than otherwise. . . .
Life is like an old-time rail journey—delays, sidetracks, smoke, dust, cinders, and jolts, interspersed only occasionally by beautiful vistas and thrilling bursts of speed. The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.”
Jenkin Lloyd Jones 

Perhaps no one had more faith than Joseph Smith, yet he suffered persecution, debt death of children, illness, jail, humiliation, beating etc etc.  but the Lord told him,  “know thou my son that all these things shall give thee experience and shall be for thy good.  The lord descended below them all.  Are thou greater than He?”

And then on my mission there was the other 20%. And suddenly the other 80% was all worth it. There were moments of incredible faith, understanding, love, friendship, compassion and yes, even miracles. Rare moments of knocking on someone’s door and having them say, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Had I known how incredible the mission would be for me, what it would do for me personally, what it would do for my testimony. I would never have missed it. It is the same with life. There is so much good in this world. Faith will allow us to see it through those hard times. Faith is incredible. How else do people not only survive those horrible situations, but continue smiling and laughing and hoping despite of them? They believe, they know the gospel is true. They have faith that Jesus Christ will and has provided a way to make it all work out.

Quote:  (I added in the words that are in parenthesis.)
-Jeffery R. Holland
“Anyone who does any kind of missionary work will have occasion to ask, Why is this so hard? Why doesn’t it go better? Why can’t our success be more rapid? Why aren’t there more people joining the Church? It is the truth. We believe in angels. We trust in miracles. Why don’t people just flock to the font? Why isn’t the only risk in missionary work that of pneumonia from being soaking wet all day and all night in the baptismal font?
You will have occasion to ask those questions. I have thought about this a great deal. I offer this as my personal feeling. I am convinced that missionary work (and life) is not easy because salvation is not a cheap experience. Salvation never was easy. We are The Church of Jesus Christ, this is the truth, and He is our Great Eternal Head. How could we believe it would be easy for us when it was never, ever easy for Him? It seems to me that missionaries and mission leaders (and all of us) have to spend at least a few moments in Gethsemane. Missionaries and mission leaders (and all of us) have to take at least a step or two toward the summit of Calvary.
Now, please don’t misunderstand. I’m not talking about anything anywhere near what Christ experienced. That would be presumptuous and sacrilegious. But I believe that missionaries and investigators (and all of us), to come to the truth, to come to salvation, to know something of this price that has been paid, will have to pay a token of that same price.
For that reason I don’t believe missionary work has ever been easy, nor that conversion is, nor that retention is, nor that continued faithfulness is (nor that life is). I believe it is supposed to require some effort, something from the depths of our soul.
If He could come forward in the night, kneel down, fall on His face, bleed from every pore, and cry, “Abba, Father (Papa), if this cup can pass, let it pass,” 16 then little wonder that salvation is not a whimsical or easy thing for us. If you wonder if there isn’t an easier way, you should remember you are not the first one to ask that. Someone a lot greater and a lot grander asked a long time ago if there wasn’t an easier way.”
End quote.

Life is full of good. Perhaps 80% of it is about enduring to the end and trying to be happy despite some extremely hard circumstances. The fact is, we do have a guarantee. Jesus Christ died for us so that we may live again if we remain faithful.

Faith is seeing that there is another way to live in hard situations. Faith is optimism. Faith is believing that eventually-- and yes sometimes it isn't until after this life, that everything will be OK. It is not the cure-all. There is no cure-all in this life. That comes later. That's when addictions that have been fought are conquered, marriages that endured are blessed, we finally get our mansion, children come back and families are together forever.

In the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Thursday, September 19, 2013

Update on my Memoir's.

I took a break from my script to work on my memoir. Last night my husband and I were editing one of the 30 something stories. By the end of the story, we were both in tears from laughing so hard. I'm super excited to finish this book. The best part is the pictures that I have to back up the crazy.

If Deseret Book doesn't publish it, then we will self publish on Amazon in time for Christmas.

We're very excited. Thanks for all your support and encouragement. You're the reason I write.

Friday, September 13, 2013

Attachment Disorder

I've mentioned this before, but my kids have some weird obsession with taking random things from the house with them everywhere. I can't say that I am blameless in this. I'm a big "chucker". I throw a lot of things out.

I hate clutter and I hate too much stuff. So when the kiddos come home with pictures that they drew from school, they go from the fridge to the garbage. Not gonna lie, it's gotta be close to a Rembrandt to go into the scrap book. That means stick figures with heads on top of bodies with no necks and hands that freakishly extend out the sides of of their stick figure bodies without arms--those get trashed, but if they took the time to add eyelashes to the overly huge eyes or stilettos to stick figure feet, I may save those. . .for one day more. 

My kids are frequently found rifling through the garbage when something goes missing. Sadly, it's usually the first place they look. I realize I sound heartless, but all you need to do is watch one episode of "Hoarders" to realize that maybe chucking more than you keep isn't such a bad thing.

Anyway, tonight my daughter was having a hard time going to bed. I had threatened her with the usual, "No TV tomorrow. . . I'm going to take your dream light for the night . . . no music. etc. etc." I was in the kitchen and she casually walks in and starts rifling through some things on the counter while I look at her with eyebrows raised. She then quickly grabbed a shoe horn that was sitting on top of the counter and ran back to her bedroom. Ten minutes later, she was fast asleep clutching the shoe horn. Her dream light lay untouched at the foot of her bed. 

Am I wrong or is a shoe horn something that a hoarder would clutch when they fall asleep? Perhaps I'm creating the very problem I'm trying to avoid. 

After my son shoved a giant deflated fly fishing raft into the bottom of our stroller before our walk a couple of months ago (a previous post was written about that experience), I'm realizing I may be chucking a little too much, a little too often. My kids are smuggling whatever they can find, wherever they can hide it, because they know with me there's a good chance it will be gone by morning.

The shoe horn is now on my daughter's dresser. It's next to the stick figure picture of me wearing stiletto's. I think I may hold onto both of them for good. . .The kids that is. What is this 1920? Who uses a shoe horn anyway? 

Side note: We live in my parent's house while they are on an LDS mission.

Dear Dad,
I chucked your shoe horn.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Thank Goodness "Hand Season" Is Over!!

I need to go on a hand diet. I didn't know this until I tried to slide a bracelet over my hands the other day. It wouldn't go on. I then watched as my sister, her kids, and a few other people all slid the bracelet over their hands with ease.  Who knew? I'm an abomination.

Five minutes and two large red welts later the bracelet was around my wrist  And still is and will remain there until I can whip these baseball mitts into shape.

I had a conversation with a girl at the gym the other day. She was talking about her "problem areas". First off, she has none. Second off, she's probably going to get punched if she ever again mentions having problem areas in front of people who really do have problem areas.

I decided next time she brings it up I am going to mention my fat hands. Perhaps our conversation will go something like this.

Her: "Aaahh I hate my stomach. No matter what I do I can't get rid of this bulge. My shirts look so bad!"
Me, holding my hands out to her. : "I totally get it. Check out these bear paws. I'm embarresed even bringing them out."
Her: "What?"
Me, "Uh duh. My hands!! Look at them, they're ridiculous and huge. I'm disgusting!"
Her: ???
Me: "If I had a bracelet on right now, you'd die. It looks so gross with the fat spilling over the sides of a bracelet that's obviously two sizes too small. It totally looks like I'm wedging myself into it!"
Her: ???
Me: "Seriously, at least you can cover your stomach up with a shirt. Think about me. Do you know how many people see my hands everyday? It's horrifying!!"
Her: ???
Me: "My new goal is to lose like 1 or 2 ounces from each hand by Christmas--aaahh why did I mention Christmas. I didn't even think about going glove shopping!! That's the worst!"
"I'm so glad Summer's almost over so I can shove my hands into a pair of comfortable pockets instead of just having to walk around with them exposed all Summer."

At that point I will probably leave and then pull my long sleeve shirt over my hands while I do the bench press.

Saturday, July 20, 2013

One Smart Boy

I had another awesome Mom moment the other day. It was one of those when I screamed in my six-year-olds face and made him cry. He had hit his sister for the umpteenth time and I was done with it. That's not something I tolerate. So I spanked him and screamed at him to get outside. Telling him to go outside was for his own sake - he needed to be away from me.

So of course as it always happens, I felt terrible. I went to look for him so I could tell him that I was sorry for screaming at him, while explaining how wrong it is to hit his sister. ( I get that I did the whole "don't hit" and then spanked him. For some reason it works though. I also do the whole: "STOP YELLING!!!!")

Anyway I went looking for Cameron and heard some sounds coming from the tool shed. The shed is a gross, old, dirty, spider-filled place that houses tools and what not. I found Cameron sitting on an old lawn chair pad. He had pulled over a big, square piece of scrap wood and had it in front of him. On the wood was a spool of wire, some scissors (wire cutters) and a rubber mallet. I watched as Cameron went about busily cutting the wire, straightening it out with the mallet, and then forming it afterward into different shapes.

Smiling, I announced my presence and asked him what he was doing.

His reply: "Oh, this is just where I come to do my work."
He then came over to me and told me to hold out my finger. Afterward he fitted a wire ring onto it complete with a "diamond."

I love that kid. There was no anger and no hurt feelings. I apologized and gave him a hug while ohhing and ahhing over my ring.

Later I told my husband what had happened.

"Cameron made me mad today so I told him to get out of the house. He left and then he promptly went to work making me a diamond ring. That's the smartest boy in the entire world."

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Happy Day

I just have to say thank you so much to all of you that support my writing.

Last month I entered a contest in LA for the next big movie idea. I entered two scripts I have been working on. This contest is through Scriptpipeline and is one of the top in the nation. It was a huge long shot. There were thousands of entrants. The four grand prize winners were all men. Then there were 20 people that got picked for five-year memberships to their site, only three of those were women. And then there were 5 people picked to have their scripts receive a consultation with their movie executives. Four of those were men, the last name was mine. 

I couldn't be more thrilled or excited. Five years of hard work and a load of rejection has finally gotten me to this point. The idea that I could possibly have my scripts made into a movie is crazy. Super excited!

Thank you Thank you!!! Literally I would have stopped writing a long time ago without your support.

My posts may be more sporadic now as I work like mad to finish my screenplay.