Christmas in Cali

We celebrated our first Christmas in San Diego.

Despite the handful of times I cried—I've been a bit more emotional than I thought—over missing everyone back in KC, Mike and I had a great Christmas together.

For three days in row, the weather was fabulous and we took walks on the beach. It wasn't every day that I could do something like that in KC. Well, okay, really...it wasn't any day. So, standing there on the beach watching the waves rush to shore was quite an awesome thing. I think I love the ocean as much as I love chocolate. And I looooooovvvvvve chocolate!

As it turns out, Santa loves the ocean, too. We spied him hanging out at the Del Mar Lifeguard headquarters. And apparently, Santa doesn't just ride in a sleigh. Santa surfs!

Lost

I am such a slacker! Not only did I post absolutely zilch in November, but I just found this unposted entry from April. So, I figured if I post it now, it sort of makes up for something, right?

April's post:
Well, I finally finished reading Novelist's Essential Guide to Crafting Scenes by Raymond Obstfeld, which took me a little over forever to finish it.

The book offered some good advice, especially the part on revising. For example, Obstfeld, author and teacher at Orange Coast College, suggested a five-step process in editing your work. In a nutshell (every time I say that phrase, I think of Austin Powers saying, "This is me in a nutshell."), you review scenes or chapters based on steps: step one is structure, step two is texture, step three is dialogue, step four is editing, and step five is blending.

I've tried, though, to look at scenes while trying to focus on one area such as dialogue or structure, but I always get sidetracked and start looking at everything again.

One of the final chapters in Obstfeld's book was—and doesn't it make sense—Final Chapters and Endings. Now I'm eating cookies by the box and sprouting gray hairs while worrying over the ending of my novel. I know it's wrong. I guess we'll just have to wait and see what the response is. In the meantime, I'll keep coloring my hair. At this degree of fretting, I'm guaranteed to be a full gray head in the next two weeks.

By the way, since this post was from April, I can happily report that I did not go fully gray.

Back Home

The evacuation was lifted from our area this morning around 7:30.

The number of homes destroyed has risen over 1,300. Acreage destroyed is an incomprehensible amount. Fires still threaten homes and land. But as I look out my window, the sky is blue. Yesterday the sky was smoke.

While relief seems to be in sight as several areas have been reopened, my heart goes out to those who have suffered the loss of their homes and belongings.

San Diego Fires

For the last two days, I've been sitting in my husband's office waiting to be able to go home. And in the last 48 hours, I've heard "Well... Welcome to San Diego" at least six times. Can I just tell you that phrase has been freaking me out. Finally, the last person who said it put me at ease and told me these major fires are not normal.

Yesterday morning we got the mandatory evacuation notice. But not knowing the area that well, I was just like, "Oh, I'll wait and see." Yes, the ashes on my patio were alarming, not to mention the huge brown cloud. But I had a paddle and was happily taking a boat trip down the river of denial. I mean, I did just move there. How odd to think there was the very real possibility it could be destroyed in a fire. I kept checking the Internet and the news and the radio, then Mapquesting the area to find out how close the fires were. Finally, Mike called me to clarify the notice was for us. I was in such a hurry I completely forgot to pack shampoo, conditioner, razors, face wash. But thank goodness, I remembered the deodorant.

Now Katie Couric's here. The president is coming. These fires are so bad. I can't believe it. Over 300.000 people have been evacuated, 100 homes destroyed, which means that Mike and I are only two out of that huge number that's being affected. But Mike and I, as of now, still have place to go back to. It's heartbreaking, though, watching other people's homes consumed in flames in less than two minutes. When I'm watching it on the news, I can see the frames of washing machines and dryers. Bicycles. Dining room tables. It's sad to think that everything a person has can be burnt up. Just like that. Yet some people are so in love with their homes that they would rather die than leave. But I don't get that at all. It's just stuff. Yes, memories, too. But stuff can be replaced. And memories can be remembered.

Another thing I keep thinking about is how do people go through these devastating times without having a relationships with Jesus? I've needed His peace several times throughout these last two days. And every time I ask for it, I'm overwhelmed with comfort.

So that's the update. Quite an interesting last two months of living here. My goodness!

Life in a hotel

I'm going on day 29 of living in a hotel. Our stay here is almost up, though. We just had to stay here until we could move into our apartment.

Things I like about living in a hotel:

1. They do your bed for you. (Except I still do it myself. I'm so weird.)


2. They clean for you. (Yes, I do it myself. Most of the time.)


3. They have a breakfast and dinner every weekday. (Okay, that I take advantage of!)

Where we are staying has a complimentary breakfast and dinner, which is great. I haven't cooked in like...um, well let's see... (I'm looking at my calendar). Let's just say, a really long time. Because before the hotel, right after our house sold, I lived with my aunt for a bit--didn't cook during that time. Before that, Mike had already gone to San Diego, so I was busy packing and eating Taco Bueno everyday. (Which, by the way, there are no Taco Buenos here. I'm not sure what I'm going to do. I might have to call the manager and see if they can ship me an order of 100 Party Burritos. I'm sure I could store them in the freezer.) So anyway, I'm hoping I haven't forgotten how to cook. I'll have to start with something small. Like maybe on the first night, I'll boil some water. If that goes well, the next night I'll fix some oatmeal or a grilled cheese sandwich.

Actually, I'm looking forward to cooking. Ha! Give me a week, I'll probably be saying, "I think I'll move back to Marriott."

Just call me Jeff Gordon!

I'm like a pro-driver now. I'm learning to be a really good defensive driver, too. But you kind of have to be. If you want to keep your car in one solid piece, that is.

I've driven all over San Diego. Covering so much ground probably has something to do with being lost twice, but still. I'm learning the area much better that way. Or at least I'm learning what not to do.

On the highways (or freeways or whatever they call them), I tried driving the speed limit. I tried going 65. But everyone passed me like I was behind my car pushing it rather than behind the wheel driving. The posted signs, I was convinced, were kind of a suggestion. Like, "You might want to drive somewhere around 65 miles per hour. But if not, that's fine too."

During those slow days of people flying by me, I never saw cops giving tickets. So I decided to drive like the San Diegans. Fast.

Then last weekend, I saw them--those ticket givers. So I've slowed down. In fact, I'm barely pushing the limit. I do NOT want a ticket.

I guess I'll just stay out of the fast lane and wave at everyone passing me.

Driving in California

I just had my first driving experience in San Diego. Way different than the snail-paced roads of Kansas City. I was so nervous I broke out in hives.

Right before I left, Mike (my husband) said, "Call me if you need help."

I was like, "No. You don't want me calling you. Because that will mean something's wrong."

Since nothing went wrong, I'm not calling him. He'll be so proud.

Here I Am

Where have I been? Well, it's long story about how I've been really, really busy. But I'll share the shortened version. It goes like this...

Once upon a time, I lived in Kansas City. Now I live in San Diego.

~the end~

I have another version of the story that starts with a beautiful and lovely princess, whom everyone loved and adored and who lived in Kansas City, blah, blah, blah. But it's much longer. Definitely a story for another day--that is, if I don't forget story time again this month.

Wait! Where did June go?

Okay, did I seriously let June escape without blogging even once? Good grief! My brain is on summer vacation.

Have time for a story? Of course, right?

So, I'm sitting in the library today reading some teen magazines—which a) probably looks peculiar to the average passerby who sees a completely grown woman reading them; and b) might be a bit freakish if I didn't so happen to write for that age group—and I pick up the last mag in my stack. I graze over the cover. Hmm. Not bad. I note the date of the issue. I thumb through the pages since I'm looking for a particular type of fiction. I flip past a a huge title displayed across two pages. "What a cool layout," I think. But something about that title stops my page turning. (Perhaps my summer vacationing brain decided to become useful for at least 30 seconds.) I'm looking at the title when it hits me. I wrote a piece with that title. And then, I glance up at the author's info. Oh, yeah. Duh! That is my piece. How funny that I didn't even remember when it was coming out. I'm so glad I was sitting there today looking like a total weirdo reading YA magazines.

"Addicted to Doubt" is in the July 2007 issue of Brio. It's a really good story by the way. Besides, I know the author and she's way cool! ;)

What have I been up to?

Geesh, I have so much to write about. Probably because I haven't posted anything in, let's see...forever!

It's been busy. No. Make that crazy busy.

We went on vacation. Fun, fun in the sun! Except I'm the only girl who comes back from a week at the beach without a tan. I am no longer a princess. I am a queen—queen of sunblock, that is. Despite the fact I really wanted a tan, I didn't want to encourage any wrinkles or skin cancer. So, yeah, I pretty much glowed neon on the beach and still do. Oh well.

I haven't had a lot of time to write. But on a good note, I had another double-sales day. Wow! And I was requested to write a story (in three series) for a magazine. Awesome. Love it! And right now, my manuscript (YA novel) is sitting with an agent, which of course means I'm sitting on the edge of my seat—waiting. Good thing I don't chew my fingernails because I would have gnawed them to the knuckles by now.

Hmmm, what else. Oh, yeah. Everybody is having babies. My very first niece, Lillian, was born on my birthday. Isn't that awesome? I can't wait to celebrate it with her next year! She's a baby sister to two very proud brothers, who spend most of their time believing they're dinosaurs or Buzz Lightyear. It's so fun being an aunt!

Okay, I waited until the end to talk about American Idol. And...Yes! I watched it on vacation. But I have to admit, when it got down to Melinda, Blake, and Jordin, I was good to go. (Those were my three favorites.) Really, all of them, especially at that point, would have careers after American Idol anyway, so it kind of didn't matter to me who won. And get this, I wasn't even home last night and had to record it (no, I still haven't upgraded to a DVR). Don't tell me who won because I haven't watched it yet. Just kidding. I mean, true I haven't watched it, but come on, I'd seriously have to live in a cave in order not to know.

This is getting a little lengthy, so I better wrap it up...until next time.

Know What Idol Gave Me?

Very seriously I ask myself, "Melissa, how many episodes of American Idol have aired that you haven't even made one comment on?" Not to mention last week's Idol Gives Back. That was pure genius to take such a popular show and make it do good for others. What other show raises over $60 million for charity and has Jack Black singing "Touched by a Rose." Can't beat that, not even with a stick.

Wasn't Josh Groban phenomenal as always? My husband even liked his performance. But I think he's secretly a Groban fan and just won't admit it.

And Kelly Clarkson is still my favorite Idol winner—of all times.

I knew I was in to a really good show. I love that so many people's lives are going to be helped. Like I said, Idol Gives Back is pure genius. But I'll tell you what Idol gave me: a near heart attack by making me think Jordin was being sent home.

In an Eye Blink

When it's morning yet still dark outside, people should be sleeping. Exactly where I should have been Monday morning, except I had an extremely early appointment.

I tiptoed across the room, feeling my way through the unlit room, then slid my hand down the wall until my palm bumped over the light switch—wallah! light—and I tugged the door shut so my sleeping husband didn't wake.

After getting ready (Not looking my best, I might add. Because, seriously, who can look decent before the sun is even up?), I shut off the bathroom switch and, purse in hand, wandered through the blackened room to the door. I found it. The door, that is. Only because I ran straight into it. Er, should I say, my left eye ran smack into it.

All I could think was, "Ow! It hurts," and "OMgoodness, I better not have a black eye on Easter."

My eye is only a little discolored and a little puffy. Every time, though, my eye moves, I complain about it hurting. And believe me, I've whined so much, I've even annoyed myself. I have no idea how Floyd Mayweather Jr. does it. I mean, he willingly gets into the ring, knowing his eyes and face and nose are going to get hammered. Ugh, thank you very much, but no. Taking a beating from the door will be enough for me.

Sushi Anyone?

Recently, I tried sushi for the second time in my life and learned I loved it. Big surprise—my husband also loved it. Okay, so we've only eaten the cooked rolls, no big hunks of raw fish. But I'm still guessing it's sushi—I bought it at a sushi restaurant, so I'm thinking it is. But then again, you can sometimes buy hamburgers at Mexican restaurants.

Anyway, my husband, who hates beans, comes home from a business trip to tell me that he ate Edamame from a sushi restaurant. Go figure, they’re soybeans. He actually ate a pile of steamed and salted beans. I could not believe it. I jumped on the chance to ask him, "So, you're saying there's a chance that I could fix chili with actual beans?" I received a big-fat no. I mean, who eats chili without the beans? Well, other than my husband, the ex-bean hater.

Now that we are trying new things, we like to share our adventures with other people. I got the brainy idea to introduce my mom to sushi. All excited to share this experience with her, I ordered for us, sticking with some pretty safe menu items: Edamame, salads with their house dressing, a Philadelphia Roll, and a Shrimp Tempura Roll. (The shrimp is battered and fried, can't get much safer than that!) We ate the salad, drank some water, and sucked some soybeans out of their shell. So far, so good. But maybe, when she tasted her first bite of the Shrimp Tempura Roll and her shoulders shimmied, I would have had a clue. Or maybe, when she, fumbling with her chopsticks, tried her second bite and then inhaled a handful of soybeans down her throat, I would have had a clue. Instead, I was like, "Here, Mom, try the Philadelphia Roll." She did. Her face turned white, her shoulders shook, she stretched her neck to swallow. "Too fishy," she said and then chugged her glass of water.

So, I guess not everyone likes sushi. The good news is, while there may not be hope for my mom to become a sushi fan, there is hope for my ex-bean-hating husband to like beans in his chili. Well, I can dream, can't I?

Current Reading

One would think with all my American Idol hoopla that I do nothing more than sit around and watch TV.

I actually do more than just that. I mean, sometimes I even do laundry.

All joking aside, I am always reading. Though, the last two books I've read haven't been YA, which is what I mostly read since that's what I write. But if I'm not reading YA, I'm usually reading a book to better craft my writing. In fact, I just finished reading Between the lines: Master the Subtle Elements of Fiction Writing by Jessica Page Morrell. It might just be me and my ever-needing-to-expand vocabulary, but while reading this book, I seriously needed a dictionary—as embarrassing as that is to admit. I'm currently reading Novelists Essential Guide to Crafting Scenes by Raymond Obstfeld. I'm enjoying this book. No dictionary needed. And by the titles of those two books, I should be a master in no time.

For novelist writers, my favorite books have been The Marshall Plan for Getting Your Novel Published: 90 Strategies and Techniques for Selling Your Fiction by John Wayne...just kidding, by Evan Marshall. And Writing the Breakout Novel by Donald Maass. Those are the first two books I read when I started writing my novel. They offer so much great information and are fabulous, dahling. Fabulous!

By the way, did I mention American Idol is on tonight? I'm so excited.

Major Close Call!

Stefanie and Chris R. were in the bottom two last night on American Idol. What's up with that?

I was wondering, though. If I had to quit watching because one of my favorites was voted off, and well, let's face it, sooner or later they will be, would I really stop watching?

Oh! Happy Day!

PHEW! I can still watch American Idol. But I was a little shocked to see Brandon go home over Sanjaya.

Okay, new topic: Let's say you are a writer. What would be better than selling one story?

Answer: Selling two stories. And what would be even better than that?

Selling them both in the same day!

Uh-huh. Yeah, that really happened. That, of course, doesn't happen to me all the time. Okay, honestly, that's the first time that's ever happened to me. So, let me just say, I'm glad I was home alone so that no one heard me getting all excited and saying, "I can't believe it!" almost a hundred times. Well, maybe my neighbors heard me. I don't think the whole neighborhood heard me, though. But if I sold three in one day, I guarantee they would.

Let's Celebrate!

Okay, this seriously calls for a celebration. Are you ready for this? I had to be out—yes, again—during American Idol. But, and this is a big but, I actually recorded it. My VCR and I are getting along again. I'll keep my little friend and cherish the fact that I don't have to upgrade to new technology, since the old is working for me just fine. Well...now, that is.

So, there I am last night watching it after the fact because it was recorded, and I'm ranting at the judges, tirading my own critiques, and bellowing my advice. Then I stop. I look at my husband, who is so politely sitting beside me enduring all of it, and I say, "You know what's funny? I sit here and get all worked up as if my opinion even really matters."

I couldn't stop laughing at myself. Apparently my husband did not have any troubles not laughing. It seems he didn't find it quite as humorous.

Let's hope my friend (VCR) wants to be friendly again tonight, because I have to be out again during the elimination, which better not be Melinda, Lakisha, Blake, or Chris Richardson. Or I will seriously quit watching the show.

Yeah, right. That's like me saying I'll never eat Taco Bueno again. Totally impossible!

What is going on?

I cannot believe it! I am so mad. No, I'm not just mad. I'm M-A-D!

My little secret predictions for the final twelve on American Idol were, well, not right. Antonella, yes, absolutely, I saw that one coming, as well as Jared. But, come on. Sundance? And Sabrina? No!

I cannot miss any more episodes. Especially now that I see what happens when I do. That's it! I've got to find my manual to my ancient-aged VCR and learn how to record. Or either eliminate any and all social activities on American Idol night.

Eight Guys Left

Ugh! I seriously need to get a DVR. Except, I don't know how that will work since apparently I cannot even work a VCR. Here's what happened.

Tonight, I went walking with my neighbor and her really huge, I mean, really huge dog. Walking is good, right. Well, no, not when you walk during American Idol. But I thought ahead. Thanked God for technology, hit record on the VCR, laced up my shoes, and left. Good, right? Wrong. For some reason, it didn't record. This isn't the first time I've had troubles recording, though. I usually find a good way to screw it up. I mean, seriously, how hard is it? My grandma can work a VCR.

But I was able to catch enough of American Idol to see that sadly the guys didn't do so hot tonight. That surprised me because last week they gave me goosebumps. I have some predictions on who's going to make it through. My favorites are Blake and both Chris Richardson and Chris Sligh. I like Brandon and Sundance too. But Brandon has done much better than he did tonight.

I cannot wait until tomorrow night to watch the girls perform. Let's hope I either walk before 7pm or learn how to work my VCR.

One Disaster After Another

Not much has been going on around here, except for chemical plants blowing up and stuff like that. Um, yeah, that's right. I'm talking major explosions, as in multiple.

But the weird thing is I had no idea anything happened until way after the fact—it's okay, I've always been a late bloomer. When I'm in my office writing, I am so oblivious to the world around me. It's like I get in this funk of concentration, escaping into my mind, where half of the world could break off and I wouldn't even notice.

Thankfully, no one was hurt in the explosion, er, I mean, explosions.

And if one disaster wasn't enough, I almost came face to face with another.

See, I had been taking a hiatus from Criminal Minds—excellent show, if you haven't checked it out yet—and then, they had to go and run a two-part series of the show after the Super Bowl. So, of course I watched it and then had to wait until Wednesday to find out how it ended. All was fine and dandy until I saw that it would be airing at the same time as American Idol. How could the networks do this to me? Don't they know I am a technological laggard, so behind the times, who still records with a VCR, which is hooked up in such a bizarre way it will not allow me to watch a different channel than the channel I'm recording? Talk about frantic chaos. I know, I know. I really need to upgrade to a DVR.

Just when I was eeny-meeny-miney-moeing which show to give up, I thought "duh" I'll just watch the TV in the other room. I knew there was a really good reason why we had three TVs for the two of us.

Talk about a close call.

A Novel and a Newspaper

I recently started reading a YA novel by Mary Hogan, "The Serious Kiss." The front cover is adorable, a little yapper dog on the front with a huge smoochy on his cheek. That alone makes you want to read it—well it does me anyway. And within the first few pages, you realize that this is a deeper book than its title and cover let on. So far, the book is good. I am enjoying her writing and how she intricately weaves humor into the heavy matter. I find myself laughing out loud at her clever, witty lines, which I'm sure my husband finds annoying. But he never says he does.

Okay, funny story, about sounds being annoying. Well, not that funny.

Anyway, the other night, he's reading his newspaper—don't ask, it's a new thing. One day, he just woke up and decided to turn into Ward Cleaver, saying "I think I'll start reading the newspaper"—and when he's reading, he makes these sounds like "huh" and "hmm." While part of me wants to know what is so interesting, the other part of me wants to say, "Can you please keep your huhs and hmms to yourself." But naturally, being a good little wifey, I don't say that.

Well, one day, he's holding his newspaper, making his sounds, and then hands an article to me and says, "You've got to read this."

I sighed because I was already reading something, which I'm sure he could see. I read it anyway. And right in the middle of my finding it quite an interesting article, I heard it..."Hmm."

Only it was distinctly a female "hmm." I was like, "OMGoodness that was me. I'm doing it." I tried to stop, but as I kept reading, I did it more, sort of like a hiccup, sporadic and uncontrollable.

Be forewarned, you future newspaper readers, it's contagious. I now wear a mask when I read an article so I won't catch the "huhs" and the "hmms."

No, I don't really. You probably knew that. By the way, the Sudokus in the newspaper are really hard.

I'm a blog virgin, blogging for the very first time...

Imagine me singing to the melody of Madonna's major hit "I'm a Virgin." On second thought, never mind. I think I may be watching too much American Idol.

So, yeah, it's true. I'm a blog virgin and not ashamed. Okay, actually, I am. A little. I have been meaning to start a blog for awhile. But fear of the unknown can be terrifying. So, here I am, plugging my nose and jumping in with both feet. SPLASH! Hope I didn't get anyone wet. Sorry about that.

Hey, speaking of American Idol, though, I have two words: love it! Some people claim only to watch the auditions, while others only watch the competition portion. And then there are the faithful little junkies like me, who watch it from the very beginning to the end. Up until the last two seasons, I had proudly proclaimed that I had never fallen so deep into the pit as to call and vote. *Hang my head* I can no longer say that. I am a voter. But the pit is nice down here, water's warm. Feel free to jump in. I'll save you a raft.

Alright, so starting a blog isn't that scary after all. Sadly, I am guessing that next time I can't sing Madonna's "Like a Virgin."