The kids and I just came back from a dinner out at Red Robin. Now, I’m usually pretty clueless about guys noticing me, and even me noticing guys for more than a casual “Yeah, he’s [hot/cute]” moment. I mean, I love me a handsome man to look at, but I don’t make a fuss or get worked up about it, nor do I have an innate ability to flirt with strangers. I’m a terrible flirt, really — in the “terrible-terrible” way, not the “terrible-cool” way.
There must be something in that family-friendly air, though, (with an emphasis on friendly) because I found myself staring at all of the hot young waiters. I mean, like practically drooling. There were a lot of them to look at, especially ours. Big brown eyes, long eyelashes. Curly dark brown hair. A muscular-but-lean bod he undoubtedly shapes with lots of reps between basketball practice and math homework. Polite with a cute, eager-to-please smile.
Okay, so he was just taking our order, but still. Later he asked me me twice — TWICE — “Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can get you?”
Hmmm.C’mon! He’s very mature for his age…he must be at least 18 or 19.
maybe
I also realized that under my black pant suit I’m wearing a top that has a sort of leopard print on it. Not exactly a cougar, but…
To top it all off, we didn’t order 2 lb. burgers with french fries or fried onion towers. Nope: a mac ‘n cheese with apple slices for T-Rex, a mini pizza and a side of carrots and dip for Drama Girl, and a small chili and side salad for me.
A few months ago I joined FaceBook and MySpace to catch up with friends old and new, and to do a little networking with other writers. I took a chance and contacted a local author, Philip Beard, to introduce myself. Well, what do you know? Not only did Philip agree to connect with me, he sent me a personal note, we exchanged emails a few times, and yesterday we met for lunch.
Yes, he’s that kind of guy.
Philip has published two novels, including one of my favorite reads, Dear Zoe, named one of the ten best first novels by Booklist when it came out. Dear Zoe is a truly wonderful story – the voice of his teenage protagonist, Tess, rings so true it’s hard to believe a man who was in his 30’s wrote it! He’s in the process of shopping his third novel and about to start a new project, so it was a great opportunity for me to hear his insights and advice about networking and writing, plus the challenges of the publishing business.
He even asked me to pitch my book to him, which I feared he might do, because, well, after 4 hours of sleep and coming directly from a morning jam-packed with meetings, I wasn’t exactly what you’d call eloquent. (Note to self: Always be prepared and eloquent, you doofus!) But after kindly listening to my jazzed-up on nerves and Diet Coke rambling, he offered me another networking opportunity with someone he knows. I honestly didn’t expect that!
Yes, he’s that kind of guy.
Check out Philip Beard’s backstory about Dear Zoe’s journey to publication (a testament to persistence if i ever read one!) and his books, Dear Zoe and Lost in the Garden.
I’m taking Drama Girl to the oral surgeon in a few minutes to get an extra tooth removed. Yes, apparently an extra teeny-tiny tooth has formed in her mouth, out of sight; it came up when we had an x-ray taken after she fell and chipped the back of a tooth a few months ago. The extra tooth isn’t causing any problems now, and may never cause a problem, but it’s best if it comes out. Geez, my kids’ teeth are showing some wacky growing patterns. Who knew?
In preparation for this minor procedure, DG’s been asking a lot about the laughing gas she’ll take. What if she doesn’t fall asleep? What does it feel like? Should she just laugh inside her head, or can she laugh out loud? What if she laughs so hard the dentist can’t get her tooth out?
I never thought I’d have to explain nitrous oxide (or make stuff up) for three days in a row. This morning she was worried about the dentist not being funny enough to make her laugh. Now, that I thought was hilarious.
Update a short time later:
Well, no procedure after all of that — no kidding.
We got to the surgeon’s office and everyone was ready to start (this is pre-hooking up the laughing gas) when I happened to mention that I did not end up giving what The Ex and I thought was an optional Valium pill to DG before we arrived. The doctor said, “What? Why not? The laughing gas isn’t enough.” I explained that we heard his pre-op instructions to mean that, if DG was feeling anxious about the procedure, we could give the pill to her to help her calm down before we got there. Apparently my extensive description of proper laughing gas etiquette worked because DG was pretty much ok with the whole thing — hence, no pill needed. Or so I thought.
Doc: “Oh, no. We talked about it being used in combination with the gas.”
Oh no we didn’t.
Doc: “What does it say on the envelope [containing the pill]?”
Me: “It doesn’t say anything…I guess I should have called to double check.”
(God, I hate when I apologize or take the blame to make other people feel better. Stupid! It just comes out before I can stop myself.)
He looked at me like I had two heads and responded in a way that seemed (to me) like I was pushing for him to go ahead and do the procedure anyway. “It would be too much for her with only the gas,” he said a second time. I agreed with him a second time. I get it, doc, okay??! You think I want my kid to be in pain?!
Good thing I mentioned this in the first place because no one bothered to ask us whether she had taken the pill at all!
Anyway, next week I’ll take a day off of work to take her in all properly valiumed up.
After we left the doctor’s office, The Ex told me that he had heard exactly what I did when we received the instructions a few weeks ago. Phew. I’m not losing my mind after all. Maybe my sense of humor, but not my mind.
pol-ish (vb):1: to make smooth and glossy usu. by friction : BURNISH2: to smooth, soften, or refine in manners or condition 3: to bring to a highly developed, finished or refined state : PERFECT
I realize I’ve been remiss in blogging since the month began, but it really hasn’t been by design. I’ve been polishing my manuscript instead — and simply haven’t had the energy to do that, plus work, parent, live like a healthy, normal human and blog. The good news is that I’ve heard back from most of the 10 agents I contacted back in June. Two requested the first 3 chapters of my novel and a synopsis, which I promptly sent off, and one requested my full manuscript…which has led me down this polishing path once again.
Depending on your definition, this will be my third or fourth draft. I’m trying so hard to plough through the edits without second-guessing myself (again) or fretting that I have no business being a writer or that it’s taking too long or that I’ll never be able to quit my day job to focus on this or the other useless chatter going on inside my head. The truth is, I want this. After this rewrite I know I will have the best possible product I can create at this point in my life – a product I will have no hesitation in sending to an agent, or in putting into print the second I’ve finished.
But first I have to get through 15 more chapters. Since late June I’ve made the first 185 pages/35K words shine, a smidgeon more than halfway through what I expect to be the total page and word count. I’ve had this hanging over my head and, frankly, I need to finish it by the end of the month or I’ll go crazy. (Or I’ll make my loved ones crazy.) So, while I’m feeling better about my polish there, bear with my dull finish here. I’m writing, even if you can’t see it yet!
Reader 1: What’s Susan up to now with this “30 by 40″ bit?
Reader 2: I think it’s another one of Susan’s blogging gimmicks. You know how she is.
Reader 3: Yeah, I think you’re right, Reader 2. For chrissake the woman ate goat and jumped out of a plane just to increase her page views.
Reader 2: That’s a little harsh, Reader 3. Honestly, I think she just did those things because she’s a little [does the cookoo sign], whacked in the head.
Reader 1: I think it might have something to do with her turning 40 this month.
Reader 3: Maybe. Like I said…[does the cookoo sign]
-
Before now I have never, ever, EVER made a big deal about my birthday — you may not believe that, but it’s true. Thirty came and went with barely a peep from me, but turning 40 at the end of this month seems different – in a good way — and I want to take advantage of it.
So, in honor of the whole “40 is the new 30″ thing, and because there are 30 more days to go before I turn 40 30 (in spirit!) again, I am asking for your advice on how to make the next 40 years even better than the first.
I wasn’t planning to add my own advice, especially since I often ignore it, but I received something in the mail yesterday out of the blue that made me think of one:
I received a package from one of my Chicago travelmates and friends. It included the DVD of Waitress, which she had been telling us about (only she had seen it), and a note.
“…I know it is not easy to make time to travel and be away from home…but, oh so good to touch base with intelligent, soulful and multidimensional women!…I am grateful for our intimate conversations over ‘Lonely Chicago Pie’ and hope you each know that who you are and what you have to say and what happens in your lives MATTERS to someone…”
Tip #1: Always make time for friends — and never forget how important they are in your life…or you are in their’s.
That’s a tip I know I’ll continue to follow. My goal (always a Virgo, always a goal) is to get at least 30, preferably 40, of yours to live by — humorous, serious, whatever. You don’t need to be 40 or over 40 to give them, or even 30, or… Before I confuse myself with numbers even more
I’m looking at the date as I type this – and wow, is it already the end of July? Where did the month go? If we use my rounding up strategy, we’re practically into October. Yikes!
Let’s make a deal and not round up.
Truthfully, I don’t know where our “lazy days of summer” have been hiding because last week was yet another busy one.
First, there was our annual trek to Kennywood, a local amusement park. We only stayed for a short time, but the kids experienced their first real roller coaster rides. I recall loving roller coasters as a teen, but I hadn’t been on one in probably 20 years. So, tandem jumper-cool-SusieQ was a tad surprised to find that the “tame” wooden Jack Rabbit was the one WHERE THE CAR COMES OFF THE TRACK after the grand finale double dip. Holy shit. I was worried about my kids being traumatized, but I think I need therapy after that.
Next, there was my business trip to Hotlanta and it was…hot. Okay, so I was inside air-conditioned, non-descript conference rooms most of the time, but still. I wish I could have arranged to meet up with my blogging pals in the area, but we were in and out in 2 days, getting back home at 1:30 a.m. on Wednesday morning!
The rest of the week was filled with more family togetherness than one should probably have while my sister was in town (just kidding, J.), plus two evenings with Fly-Boy.
Yes, things are going well with us…even after him witnessing my gaining 5 pounds from eating just about every type of junk food known to man since we took our flying leaps. I guess risking my life made me throw caution – and calories – to the wind.
But it was an out-of-the-ordinary visit on Saturday to The Rocking Pony’s headquarters that really got the kids talking. Karen was gracious enough to open up her home to the Burgh Moms and their families for a day in the country. The kids got to run around, eat a lot (I tried in vain to begin watching my calories again - uh, right), and even had the chance to pet and ride a miniature pony. Well, T-Rex tried riding, but he apparently inherited my equestrian skills — let’s just say I’m not exactly the horse whisperer — because he promptly fell right off. The good news is there wasn’t far to fall.
The highlight, though, was the two litters of corgi puppies on site. Lots and lots of cute, squeaky puppies.
And lots and lots of conversations ending with “No, we’re not bringing one home.”
“So, Susan, now that you’ve jumped out of an airplane, what are you going to do next?”
“Hmmm. Good question. I guess I should tell you I’m going to visit Mickey Mouse, but that’s so cliche. Why don’t we say I’m going to bust my ass at work, then take a few days off to hang with my sister and her brood, who are in from out of town, which means complete and utter family love and chaos, and then that I’ll go out of town on business for two days, all while fretting that I’m making little headway on my manuscript edits (or this blog, for that matter) — speaking of which, while I’ve gotten rejections to my query letter, I did get another request for a partial! And remember that column I’m writing? That’s due next week! No problem! No pressure, Susan, no pressure! Oh, and did I tell you I’m starting to get feeling back in my ass after 2 1/2 hours of watching The Dark Knight on Saturday? Really, it’s like Disney World, right?…” [insert Joker-like laughter] “Right?!”
“Uh, well, sure. Okay, thanks for the interview. I’m going to go –”
“Waaaaaaaaaait! Can you help me pack my suitcase?”
Mmm. I guess it’s looking to be another one of those “when it rains it pours” kind of weeks. I hope you have a good one!
PS. Thank you for your great comments on my last post and the skydiving videos. The video was made by my big strapping tandem master, who was wearing a small video camera on his left wrist in this kind of glove. Once we were back on the ground the skydiving gurus burned the video to DVD and added the songs, which I chose from a list of about 15 options, all in about 20-30 minutes. (The wait wasn’t a problem; Fly-Boy and I were practically passed out in our chairs after coming down from the adrenaline rush.) It’s a great keepsake, and I’m really pleased that I got it.
Ok, here’s the low-down on my skydiving adventure. I’ll try not to bore you with the details. Or maybe I will. Hey, I did a tandem jump and you didn’t (presumably), so I can do what I want!
The Back Story
I met a woman, Georgia, through a women’s networking lunch group a few years ago and we really hit it off. I was in her office one day shortly after we met and noticed photos of her in skydiving gear. It turns out that Georgia’s son was a jump master/skydiver dude and that she had done her first jump in her 40’s. Cool!
Flashing forward to about 2 months ago, Georgia and I were emailing each other about getting together one of these days, and I mentioned I was interested in going skydiving (cuckoo) and could she recommend a place. She mentioned that a group of friends was going to a place in Canton, OH for a day of jumping on July 13th and would I like to come along? Voila! My idea had now crossed over into reality (or insanity).
You should also know about a month ago I started dating someone, who for purposes of this post I will call Fly-Boy because, well, he came along with me skydiving. It wasn’t a prerequisite to date me or anything like that, but when I casually inquired whether he had ever done a jump before (trust me, this came up naturally in conversation…at least I think it did), he said, “No, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to do.”
Hmmm. (Are the gods o’ wacky ideas testing me?)
I mentioned my July plans to Fly-Boy and half-jokingly asked him if he wanted to come along. Turns out he did and a week and a $30 refundable deposit later, he was signed up, too.
By the way, when he said he wanted to go I warned him there were no guarantees about how I might act under duress, that I might do something horrible like vomit on him. He said it wouldn’t be the first time.
How sweet is that?
The Big Day
On Sunday morning we drove the 90 minutes in the rain watching the gray, dismal, cloudy skies the whole way. We arrived, met everyone and then waited. And waited. And waited for a good 2 and a half hours, praying that the skies would clear so we could do this STUPID SKYDIVING BEFORE I CHICKEN OUT. And you know what? The skies cleared for us; you can see in the photos just how blue the sky was, but let me tell you it looked quite stormy in the morning.
So the place came alive and they started prepping us and our fellow tandem jumpers. We went through a short training with Mike, who claimed to be the perfect instructor and ended up being my tandem master. (To be honest, I would have called him God as long as he got me down in one piece.)
A little later, after the first 4 people went up (they could take 2 in a plane at a time), I went to the bathroom about 15 times and then we got suited up:
We looked very top gun-ish, don’t you think? And dorky. Fly-Boy looks quite serious about the whole thing, but he apparently has a policy of not smiling in photos. Especially those before he is going to jump out of an airplane.
Then our boys helped us into our S&M/Lifesaving harnesses.
We were ready.
An Overview of the Experience
The bottom line: it takes 20 minutes for the plane to get up to altitude at 10K feet. About halfway through your ride up in the comfy (cough-cough) cabin, which is the size of the terribly small closet you can only use to store your underwear, you turn around and kneel in front of the person responsible for your life so he/she can hook you up to him/her. Then, when the time is right, the tandem master going first opens the door and looks out to find the right locale and conditions for the jump, or something like that. All I know is that you are going 80 mph, the wind is blowing and HELLO! the door is open.
When it’s good to go, you are instructed to place your right foot on a wee-little step next to the professional’s (this entails you looking to see that your leg is now outside of the plane), hang your left knee over the edge of the door, cross your arms — and, after your jump buddy pushes off, buh-bye. After jumping you have to kick your legs back, hold your head up, pray a lot and off you go. Fall. Whatever. A few seconds and a tap on the shoulder later, you can open your arms for the rest of the free-fall, which only takes about 30 seconds. The parachute ride is about 6 minutes. You can help steer, which is cool.
Live Vicariously, If You Dare
I think converting the video to the right format and uploading it was even more harrowing than doing the jump itself. But if you want to experience a lot of dorky, nervous giggling before, during and after I throw myself out of a perfectly good aircraft, you can watch it here. The second video clip is the free fall in real time — about 30 seconds. You know, at a rate of 120 mph from 10,000 feet.
A few notes:
1. My apologies to all of Ohio for previously saying your topography is boring. Up in a plane on a clear day, it is actually quite picturesque and lovely. During the free-fall I couldn’t really comment.
2. Despite the silly giggling, I swear to you I really wasn’t “nervous-nervous,” even when the door opened or stepping my foot out on the little step, which freaked out some of the other jumpers. That said, I experienced sheer terror when we did the nosedive out of the plane and somersaulted until righting ourselves. For some reason I wasn’t expecting that. Sheer. Terror. for 2 seconds.
3. The video is proof that I am a) a dork, which we’ve established; and b) need to lose some weight to avoid having a double chin recorded in future videos. Oh, and my teeth appear much bigger than normal (which means big!) when my gums are literally flapping in the breeze. Ah, well. What can I say? I jumped out of a plane and you (presumably) didn’t, so there.
4. The only part that upset my stomach was doing a spiral. One of those “seemed like a good idea at the time” moments. Kind of screwed with me for a good hour afterwards. Fly-Boy got carried away and did 3 spirals! That really caught up with him after he landed.
All right, so here they are, if you care to watch:
In real time:
Did I hear someone say kuh-ray-zee?
PS. Georgia asked what Fly-Boy and I were going to do for our next date. We both agreed the movies might be a good idea!
An idea that I have NO idea why it came to me and then wouldn’t go away. I get ideas in my head at times, as I’ve alluded to, but certainly nothing like this.
It might be because I turn 40 next month.
It might be another example of me trying to expand my horizons and enjoy life — barreling or bumbling through it, depending on the day.
It might be that, as Drama Girl told me this evening after all was said and done:
You’re the craziest mom ever!
Yep, that might be it.
I told my mom about this a few weeks ago because I needed her to baby-sit for the day. Her eyes got wide and she said, “Oh, Susan!” A few of my friends and my boss responded the same exact way when I told them about my plans for the weekend.
But, crazy or not, today I did something I wanted to do.
