On Getting Pregnant for the Tenth Time

I promised to participate in #gishwhes and apparently Misha promised someone else a SFW 2000-word essay on getting pregnant for the tenth time, and seeing as I’ve had a lot of practice (minds out of the gutter now), I figured I’d give it a whirl. A shot in the dark, if you will.

I’m assuming that you’re familiar with the basics, since this essay is about getting pregnant for the tenth time, not the first time, so the previous nine times ought to have given you some life lessons. Also, you’re going to need to make sure you have all the right equipment. Like any science project—and any science teacher will tell you that human physiology is in fact science—it’s good to start with proper preparation. To that end, you will need a uterus. Preferably inside a living human. It doesn’t need to be you, but it does need to be someone willing, who has completely consented with full mental capacity and education up through and including high school, maybe even college, and at least two units of sex ed taught awkwardly by instructors who blush when they say body part names.

Along with the uterus, which will function as a mobile baby home for the next ten months, give or take, you will need an egg. A human egg, not a chicken egg, because first, eww, and second, I’m unaware of any successful human sperm-chicken egg pairings although the idea of 3D-printing machines in everyone’s home is not in the too-far-off future and we can scan our feet with some nifty new app and 3D-print shoes to exactly and precisely fit our own feet, which would be, to coin a phrase, both a load off and an amazing feet (feat?), but I digress.

The egg must be viable, meaning that it is capable of being fertilized, and sadly, one cannot test this the way one can test whether chicken eggs have gone bad or not. So we will have to assume it is until proven otherwise, though if the attempted pregnancy is unsuccessful, there is no way of knowing which of the many steps and processes were to blame. If I did know how to do this, I’d be writing a book, which I could sell for $29.99 plus tax and make enough money to retire early and set up a quaint B&B in Vermont, but I don’t, so I can’t, and I’m here instead, trying with all of my tact and diplomacy to help you through this on Twitter.

It's okay to have more than one egg, because if one turns out not to be viable, then another might be. Although, if you have two and both are viable then you could wind up with fraternal twins, which is cool in itself, but doesn’t lend itself to easy shopping for matching outfits. If you have three eggs, and they’re all viable, well then, my friend, you have an organization and you’d better name them all Alice.

The whole viable egg thing is really kind of like one of those carnival balloon-and-dart games, where you throw the darts and try to pop the balloons and it’s really hard when you aim, but if you just throw a whole handful of darts in the general vicinity of the wall of balloons, one just might hit and you’ve got yourself a prize. Except the carnival prize doesn’t have to be fed and changed and educated for the next eighteen-to-twenty-two years. Unless the carnival prize is a goldfish, but even then, you’re looking at a few years, not two decades. Are you sure about this baby thing? Sure you don’t just want to get a goldfish? Okay, well… On we go then.

You will also need sperm. Lots of sperm, because they are like cats in a way, and never go exactly where you want them to go, and sometimes don’t go anywhere, but instead hang out, lazily flicking their tails like a Maine Coon sunning itself in that warm patch of light on the window seat in a cozy north-facing bungalow in an older neighborhood east of the Mississippi.

Really, you want active, excited sperm, who are all ready to go, pumped up after that pep talk by that one charismatic coach who would give both King Henry V and William Wallace a run for their money, and who loves the kids too much to leave for a better paying job even though he’s barely making ends meet and he’s going to be six days late with his rent next month.

You’re also going to need some way to get the egg into the uterus, as eggs don’t grow in uteri any more than money grows on trees, and do not give me that argument about money being a combination of cotton and linen, both of which grow on plants, which are similar in some ways to trees, but not enough for this argument, which is really about the availability of money and the frequency in which it is needed, which brings to mind the fact that the US one-dollar bill only lasts 22 months on average, making it necessary to print new dollar bills fairly frequently.

But back to the egg. You need to get it in the uterus, and with the egg being microscopic and all, it’s both easy and not. If you have (or are) a cis-woman who has consented willingly (with education, etc.) then she (or you) comes with the necessary parts to make this transfer happen without you needing to do anything other than ply her (and yourself) with plenty of chocolate at prescribed times of the month. If not, then there are other options, but they involve scary-looking scientists with gloved hands and masks over their faces, and if you need to go this route, you should really talk to your obstetrician rather than reading satirical essays on Twitter.

I neglected to mention earlier, this egg you need must be at full maturity, as immature eggs do not respond well to sperm knocking on their doors at two in the morning, and are more likely to egg the sperm’s cars and TP their yards and send them anonymous cyber-bullying messages via Sarahah. Mature eggs are welcoming and will invite sperm in for tea and cookies with a reasonable expectation that neither are poisoned and the egg isn’t a psychotic serial killer in an egg disguise.

So, now you have a mature egg, finding its way to the uterus through either some mystical Chutes & Ladders framework built into the female physiology (presuming, of course, that said physiology is all in good working order) or via the scary-scientists-with-masks-over-their-faces. And you have active, pumped-up, ready-to-rumble sperm, some of whom may or may not be cat-impersonators.

Thus comes the hard part, which is also difficult. You must introduce the sperm to the egg, and it’s important to do this with delicacy and grace. Mature eggs do not care for speed dating, and are finicky, also much like cats, but less like the lazy Maine Coon and more like the very loud and vocal Siamese who turns its nose up at every affordable type of cat food you can buy and will only eat British Banquet brand cat food, containing caviar, line-caught salmon, lobster, and crab at $16.27 per serving, based on the conversion rates of British pounds to American dollars at the time of this writing.

There are lots of ways to do this correctly, and several wrong ways as well. Since this is the tenth pregnancy, one assumes that you have found at least one way to do this correctly, and possibly nine different ways, not counting all the ways in which one may have tried but was unsuccessful in getting pregnant, which can be fun too. I will not spend too long on this step, as instinct helps here as well, and even when the brain isn’t sure what to do, the body usually does. Except when it doesn’t, which does happen from time to time, but they make pills for that now, and then one’s good to go for up to four hours.

It's kind of magical—or can be, at any rate—at this point in the process. The sperm get to party, the egg gets to check out all the merchandise and make a selection (or pass altogether), and some humans, though not all, say they enjoy this part. Everybody sings a round or two of “put the lime in the coconut” and maybe does a conga line, and while nobody gets to watch this selection process with the naked eye, it will ideally result in a tiny human that will make you question all your life choices up until that moment when it makes googly eyes at you and then you will be back here on Twitter looking for advice for an eleventh because they are just too cute and cuddly even when one has to feed and water and change them and educate them in the ways of humanity.

I know I said I would not spend too long on this step, and I must not too soon make it overly simple to say that humans, and really all reproducing species, have been doing this for a great many years, even long before Twitter was invented, or instructional data stored on floppy disks, or even mass-produced, printed and bound books with pictures and diagrams and all manner of useful information, shelved in the Parenting & Family section at Barnes & Noble.

Because this is an eighteen-to-life sentence…er…commitment, on the one hand it behooves one, even though we’re still talking about human pregnancies, and none that I know of involve hooves, to have other things ready too, such as appropriate prenatal care and a trustworthy doctor and a safe place to put the baby when it finally, at four in the morning, decides that it wants to sleep, and diapers and soothers and toys… Well, let’s just say that you may find that such a tiny human often requires more supplies and accessories than it will move into a dorm room just eighteen years hence.

Many say that they want to wait until a good time or until they have saved enough money, and this is wise and appropriate forethought, except that it is also impossible. There is no such thing as a good time or enough money, especially where tiny humans are concerned, as they require more hours than there are in a day and further require that you spend money as if it grew on trees, which we’ve already covered, and thus you remember it does not.

But we are not there yet, as this is only the preparation and creation stage, not yet to the what-the-heck-did-I-sign-up-for stage. So, once the lime and the coconut have done their conga dance, it can take a little while for the egg to go through the various choices that the sperm have offered, similar to a college admissions officer or corporate hiring manager going through applications for one coveted spot, except that both the admissions officer and hiring manager ought to have pretty good ideas of what the job will require of the applicant, and the egg has — we suspect, based on interviews with eggs who did not immediately tell us to shove off — no real idea what will happen once it joins forces with the sperm. In this way, it’s very much a science experiment, mixing solutions and not knowing if one will wind up with the very useful and necessary H2O or the less friendly H2SO4. It’s exciting, I know, but all for the best to give the egg time to make a careful and measured decision, as if the life of the yet unborn human depends on it.

Lean back and relax. The hard part is over, and the difficult part has just begun. Stay tuned for the next essay: Olympic Hurling — Morning Sickness as a Professional Sport.

Stupid Questions

Firefox no longer remembers this blog in its auto-fill history, so clearly a blog post is long overdue.

I had a kind of stupid question earlier today and, as I am a quasi-Digital Native, I searched for the answer online. Because where else is one most likely to find the answers to all of the stupid questions than online?

Turns out, I wasn't the only one to have asked this particular stupid question. I found it posted on Yahoo! Answers. And amazingly, I found an intelligent answer. (What, exactly, the question was is irrelevant.) And then I thought I'd head over to the Books & Authors category, just for fun.

I don't know what I was expecting—I should have been expecting stupid questions—but "fun" wasn't it. Mostly, it was a lot of people asking "What do you think of this for a story?" and then posting 17,000 sentences all in one paragraph with a notable lack of correct grammar and punctuation.

It hurt. It physically hurt. So I clicked off and decided to check Facebook and email for the one-hundredth time that hour.

Honestly, I don't want to be mean. I do support those who want to write and be creative. But let's get real. There is a lot of resource material out there (in the world, not necessarily all on the Internet, unless of course you're looking for answers to stupid questions) about writing. You don't even need to visit your local library anymore, though I do highly recommend frequent library visitations.

Don't just post a lot of blather and then ask, "Do you like my story?" I can say that 99.9% of the time, if you have to go to Yahoo! Answers to find out, the answer is NO.

So how do you get to be a better writer? Or learn to write a story? Start by reading. Read voraciously. Make that highly recommended trip to the local library (and then keep going back). And I'll post my own list (separate from Stephen King's writing techniques) shortly.

B is for Branding

I've been reading a lot about branding lately, and no, I don't mean the type that involves hot fires and cattle. I mean personal branding, that new Web 2.0 idea that you're not just a human being, you're also a brand.

A personal brand is essentially what you're super-good at and why you're unique, and the best personal brands also identify their target audience/market/customers. When I worked at a local food shelf in the mid-90's and was the only one who could sweet-talk a computer into coughing up needed info from our database (I eventually created a new database for them), they started calling me "Techno-goddess" and I will admit that affected to some extent how I saw myself. I was actually good at something and people appreciated it!

Today I ran across this article: Does Your Brand Tell a Powerful Story? - Brand Story - Entrepreneur.com in which it suggests that telling your brand story is what will set you apart from all of the other people who do the same thing you do and are also good at it.

But in this age where social media has practically eliminated privacy from our lives, where many feel that they have to tweet and blog and update their statuses (stati?) just to have their presence on the planet acknowledged, where do we draw the boundaries?

I can see the Twitter conversation now...
SomeTwit @birdword LOL The day couldn't get longer. Taking a break now. #toilet
birdword RT @SomeTwit Taking a break now. #toilet Me too. Who else?

I mean, how much of us do we need out there?

One of my favorite bits of comedy is from a 60's Peter, Paul & Mary album with a track called Paultalk. Noel Paul Stookey is talking about society's obsession with itself, noting that first we had a magazine called Life. Then there was a magazine called People. Not all of life, just people. And then, in a brilliant bit of self-obsession, came Us. Not them. Only us. Finally, he said, he expected any day a magazine called Me. A dozen pages of Reynolds Wrap®. (Ironically, this comedy bit was performed long before Self magazine came out.)

And here we are. Me. And not just Me, but Me 2.0. (There's a book by than name, too, btw. All about--wait for it--personal branding.)

There are things I could share that make me unique, that make me stand out from all of the other Jewish suspense author/publishers out there (because there's so many of us). But do you really want, or need, to know that I tripped over a sprinkler head when I was seven and broke my little finger and it never healed right and it's now forever bent? Do you really need to know that I keep insisting on the spellings of catalog and dialogue and see nothing wrong with the inconsistency? (And my editor can't stand that.)

How personal do I need to get to personally brand myself and stand out from the crowd?

Well, apparently all you need to do is look for the Jewish author/publisher with the crooked pinkie who can't spell. Somehow, I don't think that's what the personal branding experts had in mind.

Staying in Sync

I'm speaking tomorrow (Friday, August 14) at the MIPA/IBPA Regional Publishing University. In addition to working on my presentations, I'm setting it up so that right before I get up to speak, I can text a note from my phone and have it update here, as well as on Facebook and LinkedIn, among others. More to make a point than because I want to blast my status around the known universe.

So, we'll see if it works. Stay tuned!

Chemically Enhanced Marketing

Hi. My name is Sheyna and I'm an introvert.

Usually.

I had a bad headache today and took one of the most effective OTC headache meds for me. It has a painkiller that helps my headache. And it has caffeine, which I've discovered helps my marketing skills.

Caffeine makes me happy. It boosts my self-confidence, decreases my anxiety, and brings out the closet extrovert in me. I can accomplish, overcome, and succeed. I am the person I dream myself to be. That's the upside.

The downside is that I don't regularly "do" caffeine in any form, so when it hits my system, it's effective. It also can make me a little jittery, a little scattered. By this afternoon, I felt I should have a sign on my forehead that read, "I am not as disorganized as I appear."

So I can use it when I need it, but I have to use it sparingly. I'd like to use it every day. Who wouldn't want to wake up feeling good about herself, ready to take on the world? Especially when you've had a lot of experience not feeling that way?

Apparently for some people, the same effect is achieved with alcohol. I'd like to think that the caffeine-enhanced me has far more common sense than the alcohol-enhanced me. Actually, I know from experience that the alcohol-enhanced me is sleepy and not nearly as fun. But I would hate for anyone to think that I advocate any kind of chemical enhancement for marketing (or other) purposes.

It's a dilemma. Caffeine gives me the edge I need to really put myself out there. But it's only effective with occasional use, and marketing is a full-time job. Some day I'll figure out how to get the upside of caffeine without the downside. Until then, maybe I will have a refill on that coffee...

Amazon in the News Again

I'm not sure if Amazon.com keeps making these controversial decisions due to some inherent flaw (sort of like the classic input-output error), or if it's intentional to keep them in the news, even if it means protests and losing customers.

From Amazon.com itself, through Mark Probst's blog: "In consideration of our entire customer base, we exclude "adult" material from appearing in some searches and best seller lists. Since these lists are generated using sales ranks, adult materials must also be excluded from that feature."

There are lengthier explanations and open letters making thier way around Twitter including:
BookSquare: Open Letter to Amazon Regarding Recent Policy Changes and
Publishing Talk: An Open Letter to Jeff Bezos

Makes you wonder what's next. If sex is taboo, maybe religion and politics are next.

UPDATE 4/13/09: Amazon.com claims it was all an error.

Yes, But Did It Speak?

Oldest Son came home from Jewish summer camp today with the question, "Guess what we had today?" Before I could answer, he continued. "We had a big storm and lightning struck a bush and it caught fire. But everyone's okay."

I couldn't ignore the opportunity. "You had a burning bush at camp?"

"Yeah. The fire department was there and everything."

I was still finding this amusing, since no one's safety was in question. "Did anyone speak from the bush?"

A big smile beamed from his face. "No! Not that kind of burning bush. This was a real burning bush. I didn't see it but I heard someone tell my counselor. People were in the building and saw the burning bush and called the fire department and they put the fire out before it caught anything else on fire."

I guess they go all out for having Jewish experiences at camp.

Is Carol Coming to My Door?

Received this tucked in the door today:

We cordially invite you to listen to a musical caroling experience (time/date). If interested, please leave a front light on. [Signed by a neighbor]

What to do? What to do?

I want to support the neighborhood. I want to support my neighbors. I love music.

but...

I'm Jewish. I really don't want to hear about the birth of Jesus, sung to me personally, from my doorstep. Already I haven't been able to get "I'm Getting Nuttin' For Christmas" out of my head from a few days ago.

Husby didn't have any vacillation. He made sure the outside motion-sensor lights were turned off.

Update: due to blowing snow and whiteout conditions, caroling has been cancelled (or at least postponed to tomorrow).

I'm a little bit disappointed. I would have loved to have overheard them caroling to someone else who celebrates Christmas. The music is often beautiful, and I can listen to it so long as I know it's not directed at me personally.

And maybe it will replace "I'm Getting Nuttin'" and endless refrains of "I Am A Latke."

Update #2: The tune for the verses in "I Am A Latke" by Debbie Friedman has been buggin' me all evening, bringing memory snippets of Disney videos to mind. I finally put it together. The tune in the verses (not the chorus) is eerily similar to the tune of the verses in "Be Prepared" (Scar's Hitler-esque takeover song) in "The Lion King."

Hmm...

Dear Sheyna...

Two and a half articles done, I just took a break and retrieved the mail, finding a hand-addressed letter to me from a vaguely familiar-sounding name in New York.

Curious, I opened it.

"Dear Sheyna,
I am Jewish and I believe Yeshua (Jesus' Hebrew name) is the promised Messiah of Israel."

EWWWW!!!

Icky drop it drop it - no, throw it out OUT OUT! - no, better yet SHRED IT! Ewwww...

Right. Emotional display of disgust over. I think.

How did they get my home address? Oy. Just when I thought I was getting a handle on all the email spam, now it comes in my house. Ick.

Okay, so I understand the need for Christians who believe that witnessing or whatever is part of their purpose in life. Don't like it, but I understand it's what they believe. But former sort-of Jews preying on other Jews? That's just wrong. Wrongwrongwrong.

I know it happens. A lot. Way more than it should. I just consider myself lucky to have dodged most of it.

So I invite readers here to share what y'alls would do if you got such a letter? Send them a letter back referring them to Jews for Judaism?

Do you just ignore it, shred it, burn it, or otherwise purge it from your house, and if you do that, does it in some way perpetuate it by not stopping it?

Brainstorms welcome. (Conversion attempts not.) What would you do and why?

Being a Packrat Pays Off

I went looking in the garage for a second broom just now.

Oldest and Youngest sons decided to have a Spaghetti Fling in the kitchen last night, and after scraping limp pasta off the front of the dishwasher and picking it out of the mudroom rug, I decided they would spend today doing chores. After washing walls, chairs, doorjambs, and the toilet (they're closer to it, and besides, they're boys - they get it dirtier), I figured they'd be less likely to redecorate my kitchen again anytime in the near future.

So their last chore was to sweep the outside walkway from the back door to the back gate. Hence, I needed two brooms.

This should not have been a problem. We have four. But three are apparently missing, perhaps eaten by the nocturnal garage-dwelling Broom Monster.

At any rate, that's not what this post is about. Because as I was searching for the now MIA broom, I found a piece to an old baby gate that we replaced with a new version of the same thing and use to keep the dog off the back deck. Until now, we've been wedging the gate closed in a creative fashion that the dog can't - yet - figure out. But with this piece I found in lieu of the broom, we can actually lock the gate closed now!

See, there is a reason to keep anything that just might be useful at some point in the future. Now if I could only find those brooms...

Fun with Search Terms

Every now and then I find it fun to see what search terms led people here. Some are expected: my name, the name of my book or character(s), even the name of the blog itself. But some are just so interesting. They make me tilt my head and say, "Hmm..."

Recent search terms that brought folks here:

Tzedek hechsher
Makes perfect sense.

Jewish identity versus practice
Led to my post Toward Jewish Identity.

Children's mad libs
Ah, obviously resulted in the As in Days of Old spoof of "Mad Libs."

Writing on Shabbat
Also makes sense, though I wonder if my Shabbat writing post was at all close to what they were looking for.

Jealous of my husband's biological family
Uh... no idea. None at all. This earns the "Hmm..." Award for this round.

The rabbi detective
Also makes sense.

Dr. Seuss's beliefs
I did a Dr. Seuss parody to announce a Haveil Havalim. Must be it.

Purim, Esther's vulnerability
Did I ever post my Megilat Ester parody? [searching] Yep. Last year.

Is holly berry offensive to Jews
No clue. This earns the Honorable Mention "Hmm..." for this round.

Why I Can't Watch "24"

This is probably going to get me kicked off the J-Blogosphere, but here goes.

I can't watch the TV show, "24." I used to. I watched the first two seasons and it was Addictive with a capital A. But I'm one of those sensitive souls and after several graphic torture scenes, I said goodbye to the show and haven't tuned in since.

Now it appears I'm not the only one. In the current issue of the New Yorker, an article by Jane Mayer titled "Whatever It Takes" explores the use of torture in the show.

The Parents’ Television Council, a nonpartisan watchdog group, has counted what it says are sixty-seven torture scenes during the first five seasons of “24”—more than one every other show. Melissa Caldwell, the council’s senior director of programs, said, “ ‘24’ is the worst offender on television: the most frequent, most graphic, and the leader in the trend of showing the protagonists using torture.”

Over and over, both protagonists and antagonists use unimaginably cruel torture (Howard Gordon, the show's lead writer calls them "improvisations in sadism") to gain information. Given the recent debate over whether torture - physical or psychological - is an approved method for US troops when dealing with Iraqi insurgents, the show seems to take the side that it's okay, at least when the ends justify the means. The article defines the show's credo as "Everyone breaks eventually." And in every case, except where Bauer himself is tortured, it works.

What are we learning from this? This show is incredibly popular among Jewish bloggers. Does it reflect Jewish values in any way? Or is it popular among Jews because the bad guys get it worse than they give it out in the end?

Is "24" a kind of gritty modern version of Megilat Ester?

While my life's work is tied up in an assumption that most people know the difference between real life and fiction, I am also well aware that values espoused by a fictional story can still influence its audience. In fact, when I write, I depend on that. But my writing perpetuates values of family and human compassion, obligation to self and community and G-d, leaving the world a little better than you found it. What values does 24 perpetuate?

U.S. Army Brigadier General Patrick Finnegan, the dean of the United States Military Academy at West Point, and others "had come to voice their concern that the show’s central political premise—that the letter of American law [prohibiting torture] must be sacrificed for the country’s security—was having a toxic effect."

The show's creator, Joel Surnow, a political conservative, is interviewed exensively in the article and shares his views on 24's political leanings as well as his view on the torture scenes, which is pretty well summed up by his comment:

“We’ve had all of these torture experts come by recently, and they say, ‘You don’t realize how many people are affected by this. Be careful.’ They say torture doesn’t work. But I don’t believe that."

You can read the full article here:

http://www.newyorker.com/printables/fact/070219fa_fact_mayer

Silliness

I found this while I was wandering around the Net, probably started as a meme. But I liked it and am rather surprised by my answers.

Things I have done are in bold. Comments are in italics.

1. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
2. Swam with wild dolphins
3. Climbed a mountain
4. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
5. Been inside the Great Pyramid
6. Held a tarantula
7. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
8. Said “I love you” and meant it
9. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby’s diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse of the moon
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day - and convinced someone!
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 50 states
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your CDs
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Played touch football
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie - My line was "Toe cleavage?"
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Kissed on the first date
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one/both of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror
96. Raised children
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
99. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
100. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
101. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking
102. Had plastic surgery
103. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived
104. Wrote articles for a large publication
105. Lost over 100 pounds
106. Held someone while they were having a flashback
107. Piloted an airplane - a 1929 Stearman biplane, for about five minutes
108. Touched a stingray
109. Broken someone’s heart
110. Helped an animal give birth
111. Won money on a T.V. game show
112. Broken a bone
113. Gone on an African photo safari
114. Had a facial part pierced other than your ears
115. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol - I’ll be taking lessons soon!
116. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
117. Ridden a horse
118. Had major surgery
119. Had a snake as a pet
120. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
121. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
122. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
123. Visited all 7 continents
124. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
125. Eaten kangaroo meat
126. Eaten sushi
127. Had your picture in the newspaper
128. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about
129. Gone back to school
130. Parasailed
131. Touched a cockroach
132. Eaten fried green tomatoes
133. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey
134. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read
135. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
136. Skipped all your school reunions
137. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
138. Been elected to public office
139. Written your own computer language
140. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream
141. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
142. Built your own PC from parts
143. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you
144. Had a booth at a street fair
145. Dyed your hair
146. Been a DJ
147. Shaved your head
148. Caused a car accident
149. Saved someone’s life

Yeah, I'm Talking to You

Seen in a car's window, while the car sat parked with the engine running, no driver in sight:

"Note to thieves: there is nothing worth stealing in this car."

Right. That ought to work.

Who's Paranoid Now?

In the middle of writing a scene from Days, lots of cops and poor David stuck in the middle of it, and while at my computer I hear a distinct THUMP! just outside the front door.

Heart pounding, I go to the window and see a dark figure running across the street, away from my house. He runs to a large four-door SUV across the street, something like a Suburban with laterally opening doors in the back. Both doors are open. The black or very dark blue SUV is covered from tires to door handles with dirt and salt and road grime, courtesy of our Minnesota winters and the Department of Transportation's salt trucks. I can't make out a license plate or a vehicle make.

The engine is running, a driver sits facing away from me. Two men are doing something at the tailgate, rummaging around in the back of the SUV. One of them is the guy who was running away from my house. Both are in jeans. One has a dark jacket and ski hat, the other a black hoodie with the hood up. I memorize details: clothing, build, hubcaps.

I hesitate to go to the door and see what caused the thump. Not while they're still here. I watch, unsure what they're up to. They're still rummaging around in the back of the SUV, moving something white. Several somethings white. Bags. Bags of what? Then I see.

Phone books.

I think maybe I'm a little too focused on the book.

"Mad Libs" - As in Days of Old

As promised in this post, here are two fun variations of the opening scene from As in Days of Old.

A refresher of the words/phrases I requested:

1. A name, first and last
2. noun, plural
3. noun, singular
4. city name (any city, any size)
5. architectural style of house
6. body part, plural (keep it clean, folks!)
7. month name
8. weather condition (temperature, precipitation or lack thereof, etc.)
9. room in a house
10. piece of furniture
11. noun, plural
12. noun, plural
13. noun, plural
14. noun, singular
15. verb, past tense
16. verb, past tense
17. noun, plural
18. adverb
19. noun, singular
20. room in a house

And here are the results from our two contestants. Suggested words/phrases are underlined.

From Jack:

Rabbi Martin Samuels gathered the chairs from the wall-mounted table outside her Columbus Tudor and quickly retreated inside, her fingers already stiff from the May heat. She brought them inside to the den couch and leafed through them. There was the usual assortment of bottles, cans and shoes, but one handwritten foot caught her eye. No stamp, no return address. She turned it over, ran open the seal, and jumped the single page. As she stared at the cups, uncomprehending, she felt her chest tighten, her heart pounding swimmingly. Letting out a soft cry, she dropped the letter onto the dresser and gagging, ran to the bedroom.

From Mother in Israel:

Rabbi Alfonso Grynbyrg gathered the kumquats from the wall-mounted abacus outside her Walla Walla Colonial and quickly retreated inside, her elbows already stiff from the June sweltering. She brought them inside to the kitchen chair and leafed through them. There was the usual assortment of drums, windows and hole punchers, but one handwritten crayon caught her eye. No stamp, no return address. She turned it over, dragged open the seal, and bolted the single page. As she stared at the rings, uncomprehending, she felt her chest tighten, her heart pounding creatively. Letting out a soft cry, she dropped the letter onto the test tube and gagging, ran to the bathroom.

Any other takers?

:-)

Black and White and Shades of Brown

Today is Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day.

Our shul sponsors a blood drive every year on the Sunday before MLK Day and both Husby and I went to donate. I usually go every two months, but couldn't donate last time due to low hemoglobin (iron). Yesterday, my iron level was up from two months ago, but still not high enough to qualify. I was bummed. It's become quite meaningful to me to donate blood; this past year I made a point of scheduling a donation on 9/11 as well.

If you qualify, please give blood. It saves lives (a mitzvah), it's definitely a form of tzedakah (charity), and it fills a need that nothing else can fill.

Oldest Son is in school today. The school has an MLK focus all day today in all grades. He's been learning about civil rights for the past week or so, and the other day, when comparing his skin color to Youngest Son's to Husby/Abba's to mine, he said that it didn't make sense why people were so focused on skin color when none of us had exactly the same skin color anyway. Even within our family, our colors range from light brown sugar to pancake dough.

"Why do people think what you look like matters when it's who you are that counts?" Oldest Son asked.

Good question.

Because Jack Asked For It

Jack had a great suggestion in his comment to the previous post. And since I'm so tired tonight that I'm punchy and my writing is verging on the melodramatic, I thought it'd be fun.

So... remember Mad Libs? (I'm dating myself probably.) The idea is this: I've taken the opening scene from As in Days of Old, and have removed key words and phrases. I'm now asking you - the blogging public - to fill in the blanks, so to speak, and we'll see what happens. I'll post the "modified" opening scenes with each blogger's suggestions in a future post. I can post the "original" too, if you want.

Clarification: I'm asking each reader to supply all 20 of the below-listed words/phrases. If three people participate, I'll post three separate and distinct modified opening scenes.

Here we go. I need, in the following order:

1. A name, first and last
2. noun, plural
3. noun, singular
4. city name (any city, any size)
5. architectural style of house
6. body part, plural (keep it clean, folks!)
7. month name
8. weather condition (temperature, precipitation or lack thereof, etc.)
9. room in a house
10. piece of furniture
11. noun, plural
12. noun, plural
13. noun, plural
14. noun, singular
15. verb, past tense
16. verb, past tense
17. noun, plural
18. adverb
19. noun, singular
20. room in a house

Please leave your suggestions in the comments. This should be fun and I look forward to your entries!

And stay tuned, because I'm hoping y'alls will help me out later this year with choosing a cover design and some other neat stuff. I may be asking for help naming a character, or I may have a contest to have a character named after you (the name of your choosing), with a free book as thanks once it's published.

ACK!

A good friend of mine offered to watch Youngest Son for a few hours while I ran some errands, and hopefully I would have some extra time to write, since I'm now behind schedule and I have to get this book written so I can get it to my editor and it's already almost halfway through January and it's still not done and now I've got dog obedience classes for Chaya and Talmud classes for me and Oldest Son's music teacher gave me a "special invitation" to join Israeli Folk Dancing again so I could remember the steps to Zodiak (which I did all by myself, thank you very much), but it was a gentle reminder that I really ought to go back, and Oldest Son is having a birthday party on Motzei Shabbat that I have to prepare for and now Jack wants everyone to link to him for Link to Jack Day and EVERYONE WANTS A PIECE OF ME!

Whuf.

Obligatory Post

Just thought I'd update all five of my readers that all's well but busy here.

1. Oldest Son just turned six.
   
2. Oldest Son goes back to school in 107 hours, 55 minutes.
   
3. Husby (computer network engineer) is trying to anecdotally and statistically prove that 9 times out of 10, when he gets a trouble call, it's actually not the network. Though tonight was apparently that 1 out of 10.
   
4. Youngest Son (3-1/2) today built a "trumpet" out of various household objects, the sum total of which is longer than our sofa.
   
5. Chaya the dog starts obedience school a week from tomorrow. It is not too soon. She's a sweet 2-year-old Lab/Chow mix, but she barks at air particles and eats used tissues.
   
6. I have a bad cold so there are a lot of used tissues around.
   
7. My next novel currently stands at just over 60,000 words, though it will be closer to 80,000 when it's completed.
   
8. If I can write 238 words an hour (that's about four words per minute), for twelve hours a day (not including Shabbat), I can be done in a week.
   
9. My last official typing test clocked me at 94 accurate words per minute. But I didn't have to make them up as I was typing them.
   
10. I am currently reading Earlene Fowler's "Benni Harper Mystery" series and really enjoying them. Enough so that I often would rather be reading than writing.
    
11. I have actually learned quite a bit about writing description from studying Earlene Fowler's writing as I read.
    
12. My current "sticking" scenes (the ones giving me the most problems) involve Sara's sometimes painful attempts to change her role from "the rabbi's wife" to "the rebbetzin."

Guess I'd better get back to it.

Sigh.