Sappy Endings

Once again, I have disappeared from my blog for an extended period of time. Since the last time I wrote, I have completed my MFA program and will walk in graduation at the end of the month. My final residency was at the beginning of June. It was so much fun, but also a little bittersweet. Here's the quick wrap-up of the culmination of two insanely busy and wonderful years.

On the first day of the residency (for the 5th semester students, everyone else had been there for several days already), I gave my reading. I wasn't really nervous about it, but still, it's never easy to follow the super-talented poet, Philip Belcher. Mostly, it was just a fun time, though. I got to share a selection from my thesis and listen to two of my ridiculously talented classmates read from theirs. Steve and Lucy Addison came, though Lucy Addison spent the reading hanging out in the lobby with Rick, the program director/founder.

After the student readings and dinner, I stayed for the faculty reading - Susan Tekulve and Robert Olmstead - both of whom were wonderful. Despite my determination to leave as soon as the reading was over, I ended up staying and chatting until much later than I should. As I drove home, the unsettling feeling that I had been trying to shake all day completely took over. The first student craft lectures (ever) were in the morning, and I was up first. Though I had been working on my craft lecture for ages, I still felt unprepared and unhappy with my lecture. I decided to rewrite/restructure my lecture no matter how long it took. (My lecture was scheduled for 9 in the morning!)

Sometime after 2 am, I declared my craft lecture done, and I felt about fifty pounds lighter. I may not have slept long, but at least it was untroubled sleep. I won't say I was nervous as I got up to give my lecture, but it was a weird feeling being first. Sure, there are fewer expectations if you're first, but still, if you're spectacularly bad and first, people are probably going to remember that.

Overall, I was pleased with how my lecture turned out. Certainly there were things that I wished I had said better or points I wish I had made (as soon as I sat down, they all flooded my brain.) But it could have been worse. I even held my own against a particularly persistent questioner, and at one point, one of my previous faculty mentors came to my rescue. The best part of going first, however, was that I then got to just sit back and enjoy the rest of the residency. I was done. I floated from event to event.

The remaining time was a blur of readings, lectures, and spending time with friends. The final night, we had a dinner to celebrate graduation followed by a party with the band, The Wheresville Project. There was much dancing (though not by me - I spared them that.) It was all fun and sad at the same time. There is something about the low-residency program that fosters relationships that are far closer than would be expected from such a short amount of time together. Maybe it's due to the intensity of the 9-day residencies. Whatever the cause of the closeness, it was sad to think that we won't be seeing each other anymore.

Since the end of the residency, my life has been a crazy blur. I've barely had time to process the end of six consecutive years of school. It all still seems a little unreal. Vacation Bible School began almost immediately after the residency and was followed closely by our annual pilgrimage to visit family in Maryland. Upon returning home, I received a package in the mail - my bound copy of my thesis. I didn't expect to be so excited to see my thesis bound, but there was something powerful about holding that book. I can't explain it, so I won't try.

Now begins the really hard part: keeping up with the writing life after school. It's easier to write regularly when you have deadlines that you have to meet. There are no deadlines anymore. Wait a minute. That's not true. My faculty mentor, Leslie Pietrzyk, has said that she expects me to finish my novel this year. So, I guess that's my deadline. Better get writing.

Delicious Dishing

Tomorrow's the drop-dead mail date for my first 2nd semester packet. I still have so much to do between this afternoon and tomorrow that it's not even funny, but I wanted to take a minute to thank all the amazing people who have made it possible for me to get any schoolwork done while adjusting to life with a baby.

First there was the grandmothers. Sure they had ulterior motives, wanting to get their time in with the new grandbaby, but they were still a trememdous help once Lucy Addison came home. Not only did they do things like laundry and housework, but they were also real grown-ups to talk to during the day!

Then there have been all the lovely people who've called, written, and otherwise sent their best wishes. This can be a challenge for someone who's not particularly good on the phone (I break out in the same sweat as if I were standing there talking to the person), but it was still much appreciated.

The last group has been the most amazing help, however. As I've mentioned in previous blogs, we are consistenly overwhelmed by the kindness of generosity of our church family at Holland Park. So many amazing ladies have been providing us with meals, and let me tell you, we have eaten well. In addition to the generous culinary offerings, these food deliveries give me a welcome adult visitor with whom to converse, and despite my very tongue-in-cheek blog on friends' and visitors' dire warnings, I love these visits!

So now, it's back to work. I've still got papers to write on novels and short stories and a short story to edit. And baby laundry to wash. Maybe this time I'll remember to put the detergent in when I wash it (don't ask.)

Tight Schedules and Tighter Shoes: MFA Winter Residency Part One

I realized this morning that I have been missing from blogland for nearly a month, and what a month it has been. I went to Maryland for a week to visit family and just missed their record-breaking Christmas blizzard. I celebrated Christmas with Steve in a very quiet, laid-back way, and that was followed by a less than stellar new year as we lost our precious cat, Hobson to cancer and congestive heart failure. So while champagne was already off the menu for the New Year celebrations this year, it wasn't exactly with sparkling grape juice and noisemakers that we welcomed in 2010.

On a happier note, January 2nd meant the return to school as the Winter Residency began. Since Saturday (Jan 2), I haven't stopped. My life has been a whirlwind of lectures, readings, workshops, and traipsing across campus in the coldest weather Spartanburg has seen in a decade. A fine time to have ridiculously cold weather - when I'm too big to button my coat! The good news is that the program director has worked in a nice little break into the middle of all this craziness, so today I can (quite literally) put my feet up for a few hours, do some writing assignments, and just enjoy my home furnace and humidifier. I even have a nice, warm cat (Abby Tabby) cuddled beside me to keep me warm. Of course, I'll be back at school tonight for a showing of the film adaptation of Dan Wakefield's New York in the Fifties, but I'll be refreshed and ready to go by then. Besides, I'm really looking forward to the film, and Steve has promised to go with me.

Being pregnant during the residency has certainly made it more challenging, but I don't mean to imply that it's been 5 days of torture. The lectures have been great, and the faculty and fellow students are amazing. There have been plenty of highlights (or hi-lites, as I saw on a beauty shop sign near my house yesterday) to celebrate.

• RT Smith, editor of Shenandoah (and my mentor this semester!) gave a reading of his new fiction on Saturday night, including a Southern re-telling of Rumplestiltskin.


• Sarah Kennedy's lecture on the prosy poem. I will now think of her at every poetry reading I attend, wondering if the next poem will "outstrip" me or simply take me along for the ride. Here's hoping for the former rather than the latter.


• Leslie Pietrzyk's (my fantastic former mentor) lecture on finding the story in your novel or short story. I love the practical way in which Leslie approaches writing. She always has such amazing tips and tricks to suggest, and it's so comforting to know that a writer of her caliber has to work hard and use tips and tricks, too.


• Having a 3 hour gab session with my favorite fellow student at Jason's Deli. I think we solved the problems of the world and completely dissembled each other's workshop pieces. Good times!


• Peter Meinke's reading of his poem about the undercover poetry reader.


• Tim McKee's (editor of Sun Magazine) lecture on "Surfacing Pearls" where he actually gave us lists of what he looks for as an editor and what not to do in your stories. Way to be the first editor/speaker we've had that was willing to be that specific!


• C. Michael Curtis' reading of some of the crazy cover letters he's received as editor of the Atlantic Monthly.


• Looking at really, really old issues of Concept while taking a workshop break in the Coker Room.

Today, I enjoyed a bit of a lie-in and a little blogging time, and this afternoon I have lots of writing to do after my weekly doctor's appointment. Here's hoping I'm able to write my re-imagining of "Hills Like White Elephants" and my point-of-view switch exercises before heading to the movie. Tomorrow it's back to the insanity, and Friday I get workshopped. I better start psyching myself up now.

Visions of Sugar Cookies

If you went to school with me or go to church with me or work with my husband, you know that I like to bake. Actually, I think I like the baking even more than the eating (which is why most of my product goes to work with Steve.) However, my baking prowess is nothing compared to that of my Nanny, professional maker of all things sweet and yummy. When I think of childhood trips to Maryland, I think of Cool Whip containers packed full of fudge for the long ride home and bags of sugar cookies that I would ration out for days just to make them last. Dinner at her house is always punctuated by fudgy Texas sheet cake or "Green Stuff" (I actually have no idea what it's called, just that it involves massive amounts of pistachio pudding and Cool Whip.) So, back in April when we went to Maryland, Nanny and I set aside a day just for making sugar cookies. I had never attempted my favorite of her cookie confections, and I was determined to master the art of Nanny's soft, doughy sugar cookies.

Fast forward to December. Months have gone by, and still no sugar cookies have been made in my kitchen. First I had to acquire the right cookie sheets that were just like Nanny's. (I did that months ago.) Then there was the small problem of not owning a rolling pin. (What can I say? I'm not a pie person, and therefore had never bought one.) I acquired a rolling pin just before Thanksgiving, and my excuses were dwindling. Last week almost saw me attempting the cookies only to realize that I couldn't find any of my old cookie cutters. (They must not have survived one of my many moves.) Finally last night, two days before leaving on another trip to Maryland, I made my very first solo attempt at Nanny's sugar cookies. I mentally prepared myself for disappointment while still hoping for the best, and with camera in hand, I dove fearlessly into the world's stickiest cookie dough.

Overall, I would have to say that things went smoothly. There were a few hiccups. Due to circumstances at least partially out of my control, I wasn't able to start until late, which meant that I couldn't leave the dough in the fridge for a few hours to stiffen up. The problem? You have to use more flour to keep the dough from sticking to everything, and the cookies lose some of their famous softness. I was a little worried about this, but I decided to forge ahead. Another problem? Target didn't have any plain, round cookie cutters, so I had to use these little snowflake/poinsettia Christmas numbers. Very cute in cookie cutter form, not so much in a sugar cookie. I now have two bags of what look like red and green Christmas starfish. I guess we're having a little Yuletide Under the Sea at the Gray house.

Apart from the flour issue and the apparent Little Mermaid theme, however, the cookies turned out pretty well. They were puffy and doughy and soft like Nanny's. Okay, maybe they weren't quite as soft as Nanny's, but to the inexperienced eater, I'm sure they're quite perfect. If you never tasted the pillowy goodness that is Nanny's sugar cookies, I'm certain that mine taste quite superior to their local peers. Tomorrow, though, it's on to Maryland. I'm taking a bag of my underwater beauties with me for two reasons. 1. To prove that I did, in fact, attempt Nanny's cookies. She did, after all, take the time to show me how. 2. To have them taste tested by the experts. No holding back, people. I need you Nanny connoisseurs to lay it on the line and make the hard criticisms. I can take it.

What's next in my quest to become the Frances Lantz of the Greer set? Nanny's Fudge - my first time with a candy thermometer...should make an entertaining blog even if the fudge is inedible.

Bon Appetit

It's Tuesday, and I feel like I'm still recovering from a very busy weekend. The craziness started on Friday and didn't really let up until Sunday night (late), and yesterday wasn't exactly relaxing. So here I am, days away from my next deadline (I really need to send out packet #3 on Friday), and I'm in no condition to write...anything. I suppose this blog entry will have to serve as my warm up, and then it's down to business, regardless of how I feel.

Friday was one of those days that started out one place and ended somewhere completely different. The first part of the day was devoted to my usual Friday pastime...cleaning the house. Unfortunately, I didn't get finished before I had to meet a friend at Starbucks for coffee (or in my case, tea.) I planned to finish my neglected housework after a quick sip and chat, but instead, we camped out in overstuffed chairs in Starbucks for three hours. Who knew we had that much to say? I think we covered every topic and solved most of the world's problems in that amount of time. Perhaps someone should have been there recording our wisdom. I suppose it's lost forever.

While the Starbucks sit-in was fun, it didn't leave much time for me to run home and get ready for girls' night out, a rare but much anticipated event that, of course, involved food. We hit Takosushi in downtown Greenville. Though I had a little trouble getting the waitress to understand my inability to consume spicy food, we eventually ended up with delicious dinners. As usual, I was the least cool person there. My friend munched her veggies, shrimp, and rice with her expertly held chopsticks. I used a fork. I'm not Chinese. Why pretend? I appreciate their food, but lack the coordination to appreciate their utensils.

Dinner was, of course, followed by a movie. I agreed to a chick-flick (a rarity for me), and we saw Julie and Julia. I won't do an extensive review. I lack the energy for such things today. I will say that it was fun. Meryl Streep was quite convincing as Julia Child, and if you like Nora Ephron's usual fare, you'll enjoy the film. There's nothing surprising or particularly original about the movie, but it's mostly charming. Some of the "drama" felt a little forced, and I wasn't sold on all the choices they made for scene selection (especially in the Julia Child portions), but overall, I'd say it was a rental. Put it on your Netflix and skip the trip to the theater. Oh, and don't watch it if you're hungry. There are too many scenes of gorgeous food to count. You'll be gnawing on your arm before it's over unless you're well-fed beforehand.

Saturday and Sunday didn't prove to be much of a break either. Poor Steve had to work non-stop all weekend, and I was left to my own devices. There were lots of events with church, and I managed to make them all. To be honest, by the end of the weekend I was in social overload. Mixing and fellowshipping is always a bit of an effort for me, and so much crammed into such a short time period was exhausting. My friends are wonderful, though, and I'm glad I got to spend so much time with them. It's just that now I'm going to enjoy missing everyone for a while. Does that make me a terrible person? Probably.

Tom Sawyer in the Limelight - A Review of I Love You, Man

Saturday night, we went to some friends' house for dinner and a movie. After some after some highly edible food, we headed into the living room for a viewing of I Love You, Man, featuring Paul Rudd, Rashida Jones (The Office), and Jason Segel (Forgetting Sarah Marshall.)

While this film was not associated with Judd Apatow in any way (as far as I know), it had a similar feel to many of his movies. It had the same same crude humor and even many of the same Apatow go-to cast members. Another thing this film shared with other Apatow movies I've seen is the highly likable characters. Despite the flawed personalities, unimaginable insecurites, and crazy situations, the viewer is left feeling like they understand and care about the characters. No one is a completely bad guy (not even Jon Favreau's character with his hilarious and hideous perm.) These are basically good people just trying to get by in the best way they know how.

The film follows Peter Klaven (Paul Rudd) as he gets engaged (to Rashida Jones' character) only to realize that he has no close male friends. What follows is a ridiculous, and yet somehow still charming, journey to finding a bosom pal. Klaven's new buddy, played by Jason Segel, is a little unorthodox, though certainly well-meaning. Together they bond over their shared love of all things Rush and their mutual feelings of loneliness.

Paul Rudd's performance, while entertaining, is not exactly a departure for him. While I certainly wouldn't deem him a one-trick pony, I will say that no new ground is trod by his portrayal of the clueless Klaven. Jason Segel, however, is truly funny and refreshing as the mostly honest and always on edge, Sydney Fife. The trailers might make Segel's character seem like the ultimate loose cannon, but upon viewing the whole film, he seems more well-intentioned and overzealous than overt troublemaker. Jon Favreau was also good for quite a few laughs, despite his small amount of screen time. His onscreen chemistry with Jamie Pressley (My Name is Earl) is palpable as they play the couple who loves to hate...or is it hates to love? each other.

Perhaps one of my favorite reasons for loving this film was that it was yet another new film that was obviously catering to the uncool crowd. Sure these people had insanely nice houses, cars, and clothes, but deep down they were also ubernerds. The viewer who thinks that crude humor means no clever humor will be surprised by this film. Yes, there's enough frat boy funny to go around, but there's also something there for the well-rounded geek. After all, it's about two guys who worship Rush. How cool could they be?

Confessions of a Baby-Hater

I know I have 30 more weeks of this insanity to go, but I have to let a little of the crazy out or I'll never make it. After ten weeks of being pregnant, I have come to the comforting realization that pregnancy didn't magically turn me into that girl. (What a relief.) Wondering who that person is that I dread morphing into? Allow me to elaborate.

The other day, Steve and I were watching a Married With Children marathon. One of the episodes was from the season where Katey Sagal was pregnant. It began with the family gathered around the kitchen dinette set having a "baby meeting." Peg is massively pregnant, and the rest of the Bundys are less than thrilled with the prospect of competition for the scant nutrition of toaster leavin's. Each time their lack of enthusiasm leaks out, Peggy insists that they do penance with a chanted "Hail Baby." After a particularly anti-baby comment, Kelly is told that she must say multiple "hail baby's in the privacy of your own room."

On the opposite end of the spectrum, there are the belly rubbers. I actually read today where some woman said that she enjoyed having people rub her pregnant stomach. I think she should have her head examined. I have to come to terms with the fact that friends and family are going to be coming at me soon, hands first. (Actually, it's already started.) What I refuse to accept as inevitable are the curious hands of strangers groping my mid-section. I have never in my life felt the compulsion to touch a total stranger's belly, and I am completely mystified by others' desire to do so. As I told a friend the other day, I'm never going to be that person.

Of course, I've been painted as a baby-hater in the past. After I wrote a short story about a woman who fakes a pregnancy and miscarriage to stop her co-workers from hassling her about not wanting children, people assumed that I was opposed to even the idea of babies. Apparently being inspired to write a story after years of harassment about my procreative plans made me an evil, neo-natal nazi.

I like to think I fall somewhere between the pie-eyed baby enthusiast and the hardcore DINK (that's Double Income No Kids.) I like the idea of babies. I've decided to have a child. Therefore, pregnancy is just kind of means to an end. I don't like baby shower games, and I'll never see the point of gruesomely detailed birthing stories relived over lunch. Does that make me a terrible person? I don't think so.

The worst is being judged by the pregnancy romantics. After my first doctor's visit, the nurse stopped me as I walked away from the lab station of the doctor's office. Didn't I want to keep my pregnancy test? Was she kidding? Why would I want to keep something soaked in...well, you know. Did she think I'd forget the result? I smiled and said no thank you, but I could feel her judgement all the way to the waiting room.

Then there was the ultrasound. I'll admit that it was pretty cool to see the baby's heartbeat. I still felt like my response was somehow less than what the technician expected, though. My one concession to the traditional prenatal excitement? I posted the ultrasound pictures on Facebook. Okay, so they were kind of amazing.

So to summarize? I feared that the day I got pregnant I would change into somebody completely different. I guess I'll have to save that experience for when the baby actually gets here (as everyone I meet likes to warn me.) As for all my other anti-baby rants? Well, I guess I'll just have to do a little prenatal penance. Hail Baby.

The Dog Days of Summer

I've been MIA from blogland for over a week, so it feels like time to check in. I'd love to say that I've been off working away on some new story. Truth is, it's taken everything I have to finish my draft of my current one. Apparently, nausea and fatigue don't mix well with great writing. It's not easy to come up with new material when all you want to do is lie down (or barf.) I'm still plugging away, though.

While I haven't been as prolific with the writing as I would have liked, I have been reading, chipping away at my MFA reading list. Currently, I'm reading Flannery O'Connor's The Complete Stories and her collection of essays on writing, Mystery and Manners. Her short fiction is, as always, amazing, but what has been really been blowing me away is her writing about writing. She is so plain spoken and wise. Every time I read something that I think will be the most insightful thing ever, I go on to the next chapter and find something else. If my first 9-day residency wasn't enough to make me think twice about writing anything, Miss O'Connor's hold-nothing-back advice would make me tremble in my flip-flops all by itself.

On the lighter side, I've had some fun on the days when I don't feel like yuck personified. Last weekend, Steve and I went to the Greenville dog show. It was so much fun to see the breeders that we've befriended over the past year or two. I got to love on/hang out with Cash, the super-amazing Pointer with whom I am desperately in love. We got to hold a baby Min Pin, and we also got to see lots of gorgeous Komondors. After the show, all the Komondor people came over for a cookout at our house, and a Komondor came over, too! Ella, a beautiful little girl who's just starting to cord, stayed in her portable crate most of the visit, but when she came out, she was little-miss-friendly. She even jumped up on the couch and sat on Steve's lap! (Please keep in mind that is a huge dog,) It was the cutest thing EVER, and Steve was extremely pleased with himself. I just wish I had gotten a picture of Steve pinned to the couch by a giant ball of white fur, all while grinning like an idiot.

Unfortunately, this weekend hasn't been quite as fun-filled. I cleaned the house all by myself yesterday (a first in recent weeks), and I definitely paid for it today with lots of fatigue and nausea and loitering in a horizontal position. Big moment for the day? A trip to Bloom for groceries. Tomorrow is church, though I'm still not quite up to Sunday School yet. Seems I can't be separated from food for that long. Hopefully, I'll feel well enough tomorrow to be able to enjoy church.

On the update front, I have a couple of doctor's appointments coming up over the next two weeks. Maybe there will be new ultrasound photos forthcoming. I must admit that while I don't go in for a lot of this pregnancy stuff that other women seem to go nuts for, the ultrasound experience is pretty exciting. It certainly lends a reality to the whole affair that my puking hasn't quite given me. It's nice to have a tangible reminder of why I intentionally made myself feel this crappy.

If You Can't Take The Heat...

This past week and weekend had a theme: heat. Wednesday dawned bright and humid, and I began the day quite innocently expecting that my air conditioning would continue functioning as it always did. While the compressor was replaced on Friday afternoon, it was nighttime before the house truly cooled down to its usual temperature. The theme was by then well-established. Sweat, sweat, and more sweat. Even with the somewhat cooler house, there was much sweat-inducing work to do on Friday to rid the house of it's open window and fan induced grime in time for my dad's arrival on Saturday afternoon.

On Saturday morning, I was repaid for all those times I've moved in the worst heat of summer and asked friends to lend a hand. Steve and I helped some friends move into their third floor apartment in some of the worst heat we've had all summer. Boy, am I glad I started working out the other week. I may not be Jane Fonda yet, but I'm certain it helped me through innumerable trips up three flights of stairs. The downside of helping non-family members move in the extreme heat? I had to keep reminding myself not to lift up my t-shirt to wipe my face!

Sunday meant church and returning the much appreciated fans to our friends. I can't remember when I've ever felt such a fondness for an electrical appliance as I did for those two white plastic fans. In the afternoon, I headed back over to my friends' house for the fun part of moving...unpacking, hanging pictures, and making things homey. Like the grunt work of moving, this is an area in which I am very experienced (as is my friend), and we powered through all kinds of jobs like a well-oiled machine. Okay, maybe the well-oiled machine analogy is a bit strong. Too bad there wasn't video of us hanging pictures. Two crazy women beating on the apartment wall trying to find the stud while her husband wanders by making a well-worn stud finder joke. Is there really a man alive who can walk by someone looking for a stud and not say, "Here I am"?

When I got home, Steve grilled hamburgers for dinner. They were amazing. Nothing tastes like summer like hamburgers on a charcoal grill. Maybe that's what prompted Steve to suggest we go get some ice cream. I must say I nearly fainted when he mentioned it. It very well might be the first time in our 9 years together that he has made such a suggestion. Sort of an Invasion of the Body Snatchers: Greer Edition.

Of course, there have been upsides to my drama-filled week of heat. First and foremost, I was reminded of the kindness and generosity of the people at Holland Park Church. In addition to the fans, we had offers of hotel rooms and guest bedrooms. It's such a blessing to be surrounded by such wonderful people. Another upside? People share their no-air-conditioning horror stories. As a writer, this is a gold mine. My aunt even sent me a massive post on Facebook that included not only her air-conditioning history, but also linked everything back to my own. I'm going to chalk it all up to future material. After all, isn't that the cliche: suffering for your art? I certainly felt I was suffering as I sat between the two fans, grateful that I had lost my sense of smell. Perhaps one day I'll write a story about someone sweltering away or about a family getting their first air conditioner or about....never mind. It's time for me to step away from the blog and get some serious writing done. I think I know where my main character would probably get a little overheated and need to sit in front of a white plastic fan that makes a vibrating hum when it oscillates to the right.

Trapped On The Set Of A Time To Kill

Welcome to Day 2 of "Sarah Goes Back to the Dark Ages Before There Was A/C!" Yesterday started out innocently enough. I got up and ate my customary oatmeal, worked out (yes, I'm still doing that), and then took a shower and headed to my dentist appointment. I probably should have taken the dentist appointment as an omen of bad things to come. It took my dentist (whom I absolutely love) 3 separate attempts to get my tooth numb enough to pull of the temporary crown and glue in the permanent one. Good times. 2 hours later, I headed for home, my drooping lip dragging behind the car. As I walked into the house from the garage, I thought, Wow, it doesn't feel much cooler in there than in the garage...what's up with that? A quick check of the thermostat revealed that it was 83 degrees in the living room, and it was even hotter in the back of the house.

Fast forward to last night. I went to church for drama practice. I threatened to extend practice several hours so that I could remain in the lovely air conditioned building. Unfortunately, no one went for my suggestion. As I was reluctantly dragging myself out to the car, I ran into a friend whom I told about my a/c woes. This lovely person offered us the use of 2 wonderful, glorious, beautiful fans and even offered to meet me somewhere halfway between her house and mine. May I take this moment to say that these 2 fans are quite possibly the most innovative inventions ever conceived by man? They saved us last night. After a few miserable hours together in the living room (heat does little to improve my mood or geniality), Steve and I headed back to our sweat lodge, I mean, bedroom to pretend to sleep for a few hours. Mostly I watched TV until the wee hours, and poor Steve cuddled with his cool, wet cloth. You just can't buy memories like that.

The a/c repair guy came bright and early this morning. (Was it my heat-addled brain or was he the kindest man and did he not have a glow about his angelic face?) He informed me that our compressor had gone to that great air conditioning in the sky and that he would have to order us a new one. I wanted to cry. Not because of the money. Not because the air conditioner is only 3 years old. I wanted to cry because he couldn't fix it today.

After he left and I called to break the news to Steve (who was sleep deprived and less that cheery), I headed back to my bedroom and laid on the bed between the two fans to try to get a little sleep. I did manage a couple hours before the sun started doing her worst. Now, I'm holed up in the cavelike house with all the blinds and window closed, strategically poised between the really exquisite fans. Did I mention that I love the fans?

The good news is that the a/c people called, and the compressor will be here tomorrow. So only one more night of sweaty misery. Of course, the kitties don't have a great grasp of time, and so they suffer on in the heat, wearing their fur coats and looking at me reproachfully from time to time. At least, my dad is still in Spartanburg, and I can go meet up with him later in some well air-conditioned place. I"m thinking some ice cream may be in order.

Technophiliac

When did I become that person who perpetually has a phone attached to their head or whose fingers are frequently found to be flying over a tiny keyboard texting away? I have become so addicted to all this technology in such a short time. Less that 2 years ago, I believed I was as likely to join Facebook as I was to start shopping at Abercrombie & Fitch. (That's who I imagined populated Facebook - the 20 year olds who people the A&F ads.) I also scorned texting and was only able to gaze longingly at the iPods that everyone but me seemed to own.

June 2009: I sit at my laptop typing away at my blog while my cell phone sits on the arm of my chair just in case I get a text message. While I type, my iPod Nano plays my favorite tunes that I purchased from iTunes. I just finished uploading pictures from tonight onto my Facebook profile.

What changed? When did I go from being the girl who didn't even own a VCR 9 years ago to this plugged in, logged on, status updating woman I am now? The first and most obvious answer would, of course, be Steve. Nobody loves technology like my gadget craving sweetie. When we first started dating, he would bring his DVD player to my apartment so we could watch movies. (I didn't have cable at the time.) I remember being so impressed that he owned a DVD player.

Then we got married.

I got a cell phone "just for emergencies," since I would have such a long drive to work. While Steve always had the newest, coolest phone, mine was the most basic model in existence. I was okay with that. What did I need with some fancy phone that I probably couldn't figure out anyway?

I suppose another reason that I've slipped into this hi-tech addiction is my return to college. Nobody is more technologically savvy (at least when it come to communications and music storage devices) than college students. I watched my new (and much younger friends text during class without even looking at their phones. I saw them checking their Facebook pages as if their lives depended on their friends' status updates and pictures.

Then these new friends started texting me.

At first I was indignant that anyone would assume I had a texting plan and would send me text messages over seemingly small things. It didn't take me long to realize 2 things, however. #1 - This is the way these people communicate, so I'd better get used to it. #2 - I've never been big on phone conversation with its awkward pauses and meaningless chatter. Texting was the perfect solution to my phone anxiety. Of course, the other way my college friends communicated was Facebook, so I soon found myself signing up for an account "just so I could access things for school."

The third reason I have gone from retro recluse to high-def devotee? I've made friends. When I think back to even 2 short years ago, I am amazed by the number of really wonderful friends I've gained. I've never made friends easily, and consequently, I've always kept to myself. Now, between school and church, I've have this huge (at least huge for me) circle of friends that I want to stay connected to - with texts, status updates, tagged photos, phone calls, and blogs about random nothingness. I don't know how it happened. Apparently I underestimated the sneakiness.

So the cynics out there can say that my cravings for cool phones, downloaded music, and Facebook surfing is just a result of commercialism or that technology isolates us. I'm going to go ahead and disagree with that. Sure I "friend" people on Facebook that I haven't seen in years and may never see in person again, but I also plan lunch dates, read my friends' good news, and share photos.

Though I may have become a bit of a techonphile, I haven't become jaded yet. I still get a little thrill when I get a text message from someone (beside Steve and my mom, they have to text me.) I check my Facebook "Wall" frequently for postings from friends and find myself beaming when I see a comment on one of my pictures. I see the cool acceptance of others as they smoothly respond to a text or return a voicemail. I'm not there yet. There's still a part of me that thinks, "They must have called/texted me by accident."

Maybe one day I'll see all these texts and postings as a nuisance. Perhaps I'll be able to call up a friend on my cell phone "just to chat." Not today. Today I rush through my blog entry so I can check Facebook. Maybe someone has looked at my latest pics....

My I-Don't-Have-To-Run-Day(s)

After a long and less-productive-than-I-had-hoped-for week, the weekend did finally arrive. Friday dawned hot and muggy with a side of ick. That's when the phone rang. It was my friend, Martha (or Bess, depending on where you meet her), wanting to meet for lunch. Usually, Friday is my housecleaning/laundry day, but I threw my plans to the wind and decided to spend a few hours with one of my favorite people instead. I was feeling kind of blue anyway, and it seemed like the right choice. So, off for pizza and laughs with Martha. Lunch turned into late afternoon as we sat and talked for 3 hours. It was a marathon of catching up, deep discussion, and bizarre stories. Good times.

After finishing up with Martha, I headed to the grocery store and then home. My journey into the so-thick-you-could-cut-it summer air left me feeling a little snoozy, so I stretched out on the couch until Steve got home. Then it was off to the Barkery Bistro for doggie treats. Downtown Greenville was a madhouse (as usual), so Steve just slowed down and pushed me out of the car when we got near the store. (Okay, I'm exaggerating a little, but not much.) Inside, the lady behind the bakery display case asked me if the dog I was purchasing the treats for was a girl or boy. (Steve later suggested that I should have said, "I hope so.") After I told her my purchases were for a little girl dog, the woman filled a bag with doggy treats shaped and decorated like butterflies and flip-flops. Then she put bright pink tissue paper in for a final touch. Is that classy or what? I hope the dog appreciates it!

After a pit stop at Best Buy (Steve's suggestion for killing 30 minutes), we headed over to a friend's house for dinner. Did I mention that my friend has a Golden Retriever named Molly, and that I LOVE Golden Retrievers? No? Well, now you know. Though the food and wine were wonderful that night (and the company wasn't bad, either), I was pretty psyched about getting to hang with a Golden. Oh, and for the record, she loved the treats. She didn't say anything about the tissue paper, but I'm interpreting all the licking as her doggy endorsement of its pinkness.

We didn't get home until very late Friday night. (I'm certain that most everyone had turned into pumpkins, except for us.) So, Saturday was good for a lie-in, and then we got to work. Mostly, I got to work. You want to see the list? I cleaned the house, did the laundry, reorganized the pantry, and cooked a giant pot of spaghetti. (Steve mowed the grass.) That's okay. Steve had a hard week, and he needed some rest. He had special permission from me to be a vegetable for the entire weekend. (You notice I said be a vegetable, not eat one. He didn't do much of that.)

Sunday involved lots of relaxing, after church and a Sam's trip, that is. I took an epic 3 hour nap, and Steve played video games with a friend. The evening wrapped up with a little movie watching. Steve rented Capote for me, and he watched it with me - even though I'm certain that he couldn't care less about Truman Capote or anything discussed in the film. Such a good sport. It was an amazing film, however, and I'm glad I got to watch it.

Now, it's Monday, and it's back to work. Last week, I struggled as I worked on my story. I'm praying that this week will be better. I'm also hoping that my weekend of rest and doing anything but writing (I did, at least, read) will aid my attempts this week. So, enough rattling on. Here goes.

Cooking by the Recipe

Miracle of all miracles: Today I've actually gotten some writing done. Ever since the last day of the residency, I've been plodding along with my newest story idea one paragraph (and sometimes one word) at a time. Then a few days ago, I had a long talk with a writer friend who asked all the right questions about my story and my characters. Since then I've just been thinking, letting everything "cook." So, today, I have nowhere I have to go and no big chores hanging over my head. Enough cooking. Time to write.

I've been very disciplined today (here's hoping that catches on.) I didn't sleep in, I did my devotions (instead of putting them off 'til the end of the day), and I jumped right in on my work. When I sat down to write, I didn't feel any more inspired or clear-headed than I have for the past week, but things started to clear up the more I typed. I'm now up to 7 pages, and I'm feeling super-productive. So, just a little more writing, then it's back to Holden Caulfield.

Now there's a transition. You try making a segue from thanking God for my productive day of writing to JD Salinger's angsty lad who looks at life through crap-colored glasses. I do love Holden Caulfield, though. He's such a cheery fellow, what with his drinking and swearing and penchant for prevarication. To steal his favorite line, he absolutely kills me.

So, here's hoping my week continues in this organized and productive manner. Lots of writing. Lots of reading. Less cooking. Well, except for dinner, that is.

The Surreal Life - Graduation Edition

Well, I did it. I graduated from college. It still feels a little unreal, though it sinks in a bit more with each passing day. I've been an official graduate for 3 whole days, and I'm already a grad student. No rest for the weary (or is it the wicked?) My first residency starts next week, and I can hardly wait...well, that's not entirely true. I am enjoying the break from school, no matter how short. It's nice to know I don't have anything I have to do for school for a few days. Yesterday was one, long, glorious day of wasting time and accomplishing nothing. It was everything I dreamed of and then some.

Back to graduation, though. It was an amazing experience. (No mocking my vague, hyperbolic adjective, either. It really was. I couldn't think of a better word, except maybe awesome.) Last Thursday was the first of the surreal graduation experiences. I sat in Twichell auditorium, shivering in the overwrought air-conditioning and marveling that I was actually there getting ready to graduate. Despite the mind-numbingly boring explanations (and over-explanations) of how graduation would run, none of us could stop grinning. We looked like a bunch of high-class hyenas in dresses, heels, and pearls. You don't get much more surreal than that! Then there was the Candlelight Senior Dinner with its tearful, drunken toasting and slideshow set to graduation classics like Green Day's "Time of Your Life." I felt a little like I was trapped in some bad 80's movie, but I loved every minute of it. Baccalaureate was the next night, followed by Hats Off and dinner with family.

Graduation Day dawned gray and rainy. Apparently, it never rains on Converse graduation...except when I graduate. So lunch on the lawn wasn't going to happen, but I didn't care. They could throw my diploma to me as I drove by the school, so long as I had that document in my hot, little hands when it was all over. Fortunately, that didn't happen. I got my diploma like everyone else, during Commencement. I must admit that after Steve walked me over to Wilson Hall to line up, it all started to feel a little unreal. I don't think I was the only one feeling this way, either. Everyone seemed a little on edge, a little different, like we were strangers meeting for the first time. We made polite conversation and took pictures together because that's what we were supposed to do. No one seemed clear on what we were supposed to do after all this was over.

Once I got settled in my seat in Gee Dining Hall, I looked over the program. I quickly found my name, also a little unreal. Sarah Elizabeth, summa um laude. Wait a minute. Did that say what I think it did? Sure enough. The only typo in the entire program was next to my name. That one little missing "C" gave me and those around me a good laugh until it was time to head into Twichell for the big event. As we walked out of Wilson, the faculty applauded us, another surreal happening for the history books. We lined up outside Twichell and applauded the faculty as they processed into the auditorium. Then it was our turn. I know I am a writer, and therefore, should be able to explain how I felt as I walked to my seat. Alas, I cannot. I suppose I could say that my heart was full or some other cliche like that, but that just wouldn't cover it. As I found my seat, I looked up to the balcony to see where Steve and my parents had promised to sit. I waved hello with my grin.

I must confess that I barely remember walking across the stage to get my diploma and hood. I certainly didn't hear any of my friends names as they were called after mine. I was in a daze. I couldn't then (and still can't now) believe that I was holding my diploma in my hand. It wasn't just me, either. My friend, Megan, kept giving me the most ridiculously wide grin (I know mine was exactly like hers.) We kept squeezing each other's hand. I'm not sure if we were congratulating each other, or trying to make sure the moment was real.

After lots of hugs and pictures, we made our way to Gee Dining Hall for some bad food, good friends, and continued photo ops. My night of no sleep was starting to kick in. When we finally peeled ourselves away from the festivities (I wasn't sure I was ready for everything to be over), we headed home to get ready for the graduation party. I began my preparations with a nap. Nothing glamorous or surreal there. Just one tired graduate. Not even graduating summa Cum laude could make up for a good night's sleep.

Retail Therapy, or How To Succeed At Shopping Without Really Trying

Sometimes you see changes coming and you have time to prepare. Then there are those times when changes just start coming at you fast, and you just have to sit back and hold on. Apparently, this is one of those times. Graduation is approaching at lightning speed. (This has been the fastest semester in the history of academia.) I ordered my cap and gown this week, and I've been receiving all kinds of info regarding the events of graduation week. It does make it all seem a bit more real. This time two months from now, I'll be a college graduate. It seems like only yesterday (regardless of the cliche) that I was starting at Converse and working full time and wondering if I would ever be able to finish and graduate. Now, here I am. It's all a little surreal. Now, I just have to get through this semester. One more week until spring break, and I can hardly wait.

Of course, I've had four years to prepare for this. It's exciting, but it's the expected result of four years of college - graudation. If I only had graduation to contend with, things would be pretty tame. It isn't just graduation, though. Changes are everywhere. The other day a friend was talking about how things happen in clusters. That rule must include changes. In the past couple of months, I've gone from being an overachieving, overworked, overstressed, super-nerd, reclusive college student with no clear idea of life after graduation to a woman with friends, a life, and a plan. (I'm still an overachieving nerd. No change there.) I've been accepted to the MFA program at Converse, so life after college is going to be, well, more college. I'm so excited about grad school. Two years of hanging out with other writers. It doesn't get much better than that.

School isn't over yet, though, and it has been crazy. We finished the manuscript for Concept (our literary journal) on Thursday. It was such a relief to get it done. Another check mark on my crazy to do list. I also picked up the finalists for the Julia Mood Peterkin Award, and I get to read/judge them over Spring Break. Super fun! I'm going to be in a television commercial on Tuesday for Converse II. That should be interesting. They're going to film me doing my Writing Center/tutoring thing.

The biggest (and best) change in my life right now has been the addition of a new group of friends. Since our move to Holland Park Church of Christ, we've met some really amazing people. Our Sunday night Life Group includes three other young married couples who have taken us in as family. I am amazed daily by their openness and generosity of spirit. As someone who doesn't make friends easily, I have appreciated their patience with me and my innumerable quirks. For the first time in my life, I feel like I am making women friends with whom I can have a close, spiritual relationship. My goal for the future? Try not to mess it up.

Today, I went shopping with one of the girls from Life Group, Terra. She is a kindred spirit and crazy fun. I'm not sure that Mall of Georgia was ready for us. I swear we spent half an hour just looking at the jewelry at Macy's and another at the shoes. A woman after my own heart. It was positively the most normal thing I've done in years, and it felt really wonderful.