My presence on the interwebs has not ended. Last week, I was on vacation, came home sick, then someone crashed into my parked car (I wasn’t in it). Taking care of some things, then will be back next week.
Today, I’m thankful for my mother. Yesterday would have been her 69th birthday. She was my best friend and greatest encouragement. I will always be grateful for everything she did for me, and the life she poured into me on a daily basis growing up.
Rhadamanthine: adj, rigorously strict or just.
Fascinating fact: Rhadamanthus (who the word is fashioned after) was one of the judges of the underworld in Greek mythology. He was known for being inflexible when passing judgment.
I sit on the couch fidgeting with my fingers. I know I’m late. I’m a lot late. And it’s caused another argument between Mom and Dad.
“It’s not like she was out doing drugs, Garrett! She was doing homework in the library. I don’t think you need to be so rhadamanthine on her for being home an hour past curfew.”
“A rule is a rule Hailie. If we don’t punish her for this, it will set a precedent for future behavior.”
Sigh. Curse Jamie for showing up and distracting me for so long. She can be such a pain sometimes. If she spent more time studying and less time dating, she wouldn’t have the problems she does.
When she showed up, she asked for help on her geometry homework. I was trying to write a research paper for biology, but invited her to my table anyway. Halfway through my explanation of how to get the volume of a hexagon, she starts in on her boy problems.
Come on. She brought it on herself. I mean, what did she expect when she’s dating three guys at one time with none of them knowing about it? Lionel took her to see Jurassic World, which would have been no problem if Victor didn’t decide to show up to exact same showing. He apparently didn’t say anything, hoping she was just out with a friend.
Then Lionel kissed her and all heck broke loose. He jumped out of his seat and started yelling at her. Not wanting to deal with it, she ran. Serendipitously, the third boy she’s dating, Darren, was walking past the theater when she ran out. Needless to say, all the boys know now, and none of them want her anymore.
“We can’t discipline her for studying. That doesn’t even make sense!” Mom shouts.
Dad walks in the room, giving me the look of disapproval. “I hate doing this. It’s my least favorite part of being a parent, but I can’t be lenient with you. Maybe if you would have called to let us know you were going to be late, we could have gone easier on you. It isn’t safe for you to be out alone past 11:00. You’re a teenage girl. I never want this to happen again, so for the next month, you will not be going anywhere in the evenings unless it is with us.”
Great. Thanks, Jamie.
Ever notice how right before you leave for vacation, a million million things pop up that you have to take care of RIGHT NOW? But-But-But I still haven’t packed! I need to finish this draft and get it out to my beta readers. Gah! What about you? Ever feel so busy, you just might lost it a little? Or a lot?
In Missing, Faith has moved around so much in her childhood, that she refuses to allow herself to get attached to people. The instability of her life made her wary of people, believing they would always let her down. That makes for a very lonely life. When you’re alone, all kinds of yuck can consume you. Bitterness, anger, and pride, just to name a few.
I wasn’t a foster child, but I did move around a lot, being an Air Force brat. My family, specifically my mother, was always a constant. Even when I had difficulty making friends, they were there. Faith didn’t have that.
What I’ve learned is that even though people let you down, you still have to try. We weren’t made to be alone all the time, much to my introverted personality’s chagrin. So don’t live by Faith’s number one rule: Don’t get attached.
Let’s be real, ladies. In the fashion world, I’m not really sure most places know what they’re doing when they design clothing for plus-sizes. Even at places like Macy’s or Nordstrom, I often find myself thinking, “Why would someone in a plus-size want to wear that? Heck, why would a regular-sized person want to wear that?”
If you’re above the average size, looking for nice, casual, or are a chic geek like me that likes pop culture, then look no further for your clothing and accessories than Torrid. This fabulous store has brick-and-mortar shops and a massive online store with sizes for as small as a 10 and as high as a 30.
Torrid stays with the current trend and manages to make it look good on any size. I highly recommend Torrid, where I do most of my own shopping for clothes.
Click the image below to check it out.
Today, I would like to thank Lynnette Bonner for being an incredible encouragement and invaluable advisor while I’ve been learning to walk in the independent author industry. Because she is a successful author herself, her opinion on my books and ideas have really mattered.
Thank you, Lynnette, for taking time out of your incredibly busy life to help me take my first steps out there in the world of writing and publishing myself.
Carpaccio: noun: thinly sliced raw meat or fish served with a sauce often used postpositively
My headband is soaked with sweat. I’m glad I’m wearing it. Chef is so particular about things and has assigned me the task of cutting the steak for the carpaccio.
Today, it seems like everything I do is wrong. The pasta was cooked, but overdone. The marinara tasted good to me, but I apparently forgot the oregano. I hope it doesn’t cause me to lose my job.
Honestly, I’m usually very dependable. I’ve been working at Olivia’s Ristorante for nine months and have never had a day like this. Something is off in me today, and I know what it is.
Eric, my five-year-old son, had a rough night. He’s caught some bug from school that caused him to vomit in his bed. Then, he threw up on the carpet on the way to the bathroom. After an hour, and setting a large bowl next to him just-in-case, I finally got back to bed at 2:00 AM. Who can get back to sleep when all that just happened? Not me. I ended up tossing and turning for the rest of the night. Motherhood is such a glamorous life.
Now this happens. Is Chef trying to find a way to get me fired? I thought he liked me, but he’s been so upset with me all day, albeit understandably.
Eyeballing the expensive slab of steak, I select the sharpest knife I can find. I have to get this right. I try to bring my hand up to cut it, but it’s shaky.
“What’s wrong with you today, Ellen?” I jump and toss the knife on the counter in shock when Chef speaks from behind me. “You don’t normally have the problems you’re having today.”
I turn around to face him. He no longer looks mad, but concerned. Perhaps he doesn’t want to fire me. That’s a relief.
“I just have some things going on at home.” I doubt he wants to hear the details of my son’s projectile vomiting last night.
Chef’s brows furrow. “You have a small son at home, right? Is he okay?”
In contrast, my brows lift to my hairline. He’s paid enough attention to know I have a son? There are fifteen other sous chefs in this busy kitchen. There’s hardly time to converse between everything we do. Wiping the shock from my face, I respond.
“Actually, he’s sick. Picked up something from a kid in his kindergarten class and had to stay home today.”
“I assume your husband stayed with him.”
“No husband. My mother has him.”
Chef studies me a bit, then nods to himself. “Take the rest of the day off. I’ll make sure you’re paid. You have been a steady presence in my kitchen, and family comes first.”
Without another word, he walks away. Not believing what just happened, I stare at his back until he turns a corner. After blinking a few times, I remove my apron, and head out the door to take care of Eric.
I really hate to hate someone. It actually takes quite a lot to get me to that point. Not only that, but hate does nothing to hurt the other person, it only eats at you until your hate has consumed so much of you, it alters who you are. Pretty soon, the hate of one person leads to the hate of someone else, which leads to the hate of someone else, and so on. You’re the one unhappy and suffering, while the other person is living on with their lives. Next thing you know, Anakin Skywalker has turned into Darth Vader, a completely different person than the annoying little kid with a podracer.
When I feel like I’m going in that direction, I take a few deep breaths and consider all these things. Do I really want to waste my time, my life on something as negative and poisonous as hate? No. There are much better things to do with my life.
What about you? How do you handle it when the temptation of hate enters into the fray?
Sometimes in life, we make mistakes, so does Miriam. Do you tell yourself this when you make one, too?