Further Thoughts on Uvulas and Stuff

I started another Sedaris book last night, and right there on page 12, he wrote about uvulas. Great minds think alike I suppose (reference Stuck Happens post below), although probably a lot more people write to David and tell him how funny his thoughts on uvulas are. He says he wants to take a pair of scissors and snip his uvula off. That it would bleed a lot but wouldn't kill him.

One time when kid was 7 or 8, the Baptist Sunday School bus (wait! grammar alert! I think the bus was nondenominational) pulled up in front of the house to drop her off. Instead of the usual run to the door, there was a woman dragging kid through the yard toward me. Kid had a gash at the brow bone, and that sucker was bleeding buckets. The church lady said it was nothing but a scratch, and she'd be fine. I don't think Jesus would have said that. I mean, if David's uvula were missing and he was bleeding heavily, or a child in my care were injured, I really would show some concern. After that experience kid rode a different bus, without incident. Or accident.

For The Love Of Reading

Dear David,

Much as I adore you, we have to stop sleeping together.

I'm trashed. My boss is losing patience with my rapidly declining competence. I can barely function. Just this morning I put seven scoops of Folgers in his coffee pot, typed, "Please sing below," on legal correspondence, and announced that I was meeting my daughter at Tanners for snake night.

Each day I tell myself I'll break it off, but come bedtime, I can not resist you. I set the alarm and leave the lamp on, as I've already spied you lying there waiting for me, my patient lover under green cover, whispering, "Let's get Naked" to me, but I won't, as I haven't finished Me Talk Pretty yet.

I succumb, thinking just for a little while...I'll barely touch you...just indulge for a few minutes...and dammit I'm done for again.

Hours later, spent, I shove you to your side of the bed and turn out the light. It's almost time to go back to the office.

I haven't been this exhausted since I slept with Alexander McCall Smith and his lady detective. The end is near, David.

Until I get Naked.

Yours,

Deb

Free T-Shirts

Check out my Writer's Relief badge over there. There - to the right... If you post one of their badges on your site for 30 days, Writer's Relief will send you a free writing themed T-shirt. Maybe it has to be a writing related site. I can't imagine they'd send a shirt to the owner of "Hottest Cafeteria Ladies on Campus" or "101 Previously Unknown Uses for Dog Doo" but who knows.

Yeah baby! You clothe my back, I'll promote yours. Marketing. Christina Katz over at Writers on the Rise is talking a lot lately about marketing. Face it, there's more satisfaction to writing if people are reading what you write. It gets way better too, when people are willing to pay for what you write, and then if they point others to you too, well, jackpot.

In other words, if you don't do some shameless marketing, whether giving away t-shirts or hitting the dusty trail to speak about your book or somehow getting the word out that you write whatever you write, aint nobody gonna read it but your mama. Or in my case my kid.

So yes, Writer's Relief, I'll post your badge! Yes, Christina, I'll tell everyone how fabulous I think you are! Because we all need promotion. Sidebar: I would not recommend promoting not so good peoples... be selective. Writer's Relief has lots of valuable information for writers on their site, and Christina Katz is like, well, if we could call an 866 number to vote on our favorite writer idol, I'd dial. Check out the May/June issue of Writer's Digest for her article "Build Your Power Platform," part of a 20 page spread on how to stand out to agents and editors.

Now there's something I need to read. Wonder if they'll give me a t-shirt.

Stuck Happens

My kid only gets unheard of ailments. When she was pretty young she came to me one day and said that the flappy thing in her throat was stuck. Huh? I looked, and sure enough, that flappy thing that hangs at the back of your mouth was stuck to the roof. Neither of us knew that uvula is the correct name for the flappy-thing-that-hangs-there-unless-it's-stuck-and-therefore no-longer-flappy. We watched the flappy thing for a day or two, thinking it would hang again, but no, so I called the doctor.

When we explained the problem to the doctor she rolled her eyes and said something like "Right. Your flappy thing, which we call a uvula by the way, is stuck to the roof of your mouth." Then she looked, and her shocked professional opinion was that the flappy thing was indeed stuck. She went off to get some hand tools while we basked in the joy of being one up on the doc. She returned with long metal thingies (also not the correct medical term), told child to open wide, and suddenly, all on its own, flappy thing was flapping again. There was nothing for the doctor to do except bill me.

My writing thing gets stuck sometimes. Like dealing with the wayward uvula, I ponder the problem in all its strangeness for a day or two, call for help when determined necessary, and eventually, after much worry for no reason, the writing thing starts swinging again, all on its own.

Merry Christmas!

I'm one of those procrastinating people who does my Christmas shopping last minute even though each year I swear I'm starting early. I carefully choose greeting cards and even get around to making a list of those I will send them to. I have a nice collection of boxed greeting cards, and let's just say I'll need to buy a lot of one cent stamps. My sister, Organized Mama, suggests that I send Easter greetings instead, thus avoiding the holiday stress and still playing nice. Great idea, and I meant to do it.

For writers, it is time to think about the December holidays. Got ideas rolling around in your mind? I'm getting mine on paper and finding my markets. Most publications, with the exception of small locals and newspapers, would like for us to celebrate the 4th of July by sending them our holiday query or article. So I'm working hard at getting in the spirit. My lights are already up. Oh, wait...

Road Writing

I have just returned from a visit to my mother's, in the country. The long drive allows me time to think, to do what I call road writing. Of course I don't really write while driving, but I can work out the details that have been missing from a story in progress, or something as simple as a sign marking a county line might lead me to a new story. Sometimes I feel compelled to pull over and snap a photo, usually of something I must have seen a thousand times already on this same drive.

At mom's the field has turned to a lush green just weeks after being burned off. The lilacs are blooming and the bluebirds are making nests. The winter finches are still at the feeder that will soon be replaced with sugar water for the hummingbirds. It is quiet and peaceful there, always.

I return to my duplex, where I notice the neighbors have continued their lawnscaping by dropping more cigarette butts and beer cans at my door. When I asked them nicely to clean up after themselves, they said it looks like this because they don't smoke in the house. Their loud and odd noises that awaken me at all hours lead me to believe that they don't sleep in the house either.

So I am back on my quest to find my own home, where the yard will be littered with flower beds and birds and lilac bushes, and I can sleep peacefully. Almost like being in the country.

Today's post just has to be a brag instead of a nag. My beautiful brilliant daughter Jess is one of 34 students chosen to show in the Kansas City Artists Coalition's Undergraduate College Student Exhibition, a juried show that opens next Friday, April 10th. YAY JESS! Here's a sneak preview of her work. I just love this shot. For more info visit http://www.kansascityartistscoalition.org/

Jess also took the photo in my previous post, which just screams Spring is Here!

More than a few people have commented over the last few years that it is crazy for anyone to go to college to study art, and asked me how I could not only allow, but encourage this. I can and I do because it's a very smart and brave person who lives who they really are.

What a lousy rotten rainy cold miserable day.

But tomorrow is jeans day at the day job, and as Hoops and YoYo say, It's I don't care Friday, so hope springs eternal. Until butt chewin' Monday!