Weekly Affirmations

January 30, 2012

So, I broke my favorite mug this week.

I have actually spent the last three years trying to replace it. There was some bad mojo attached to it. A “friend” bought it for me for helping her with some tasks, but not before she yelled at me for all the things I had done wrong.

You see, she couldn’t be two places at once and I willingly took over half of her responsibilities. Then when the day was over, she informed me that I hadn’t kept good enough track of the supplies I used, nor had I kept all the other adults in attendance in “order”.

Of course, I simply shrugged my shoulders and informed her that next time she shouldn’t trust me with such important tasks if she didn’t trust me to take care of things to her specifications. Then she bought me a mug.

It was a beautiful turquoise mug with a handcrafted texture but a perfectly machine-created base which fit perfectly in the cup holder in my car. It also was largerish. I pride myself on only drinking two cups of coffee a day, but with this mug, two cups equaled half a pot. And I didn’t feel bad about my caffeine habit.

But, it soon became apparent over the course of the next several years that this friend was bad energy, energy I kept thinking was my fault, I kept thinking I could solve if only I had…

I bet we’ve all been there. We like the person. The person makes us laugh, except when she’s making us steam.

When I described this dynamic to another friend and how I thought if only I could… then we would get along, my friend said to me, “You can’t ever be healthy enough for both of you.”

So, finally after showing up to a party in my honor to yell at me, I broke off the friendship. But, I kept the mug.

I told myself, “It’s just a mug.” A perfect mug at that. But on some level I realized that it held some bad mojo because of the atmosphere of bequeathment and subsequent bad feelings between me and the gift giver.

So, I began searching for a replacement. Most mugs were just too big. Seriously, a half a pot of coffee is plenty, even if I can tell myself that the whole pot was only two cups. Some mugs were too heavy. (I’m getting old and a bit fragile.) Many mugs were too small.  So even though I bought a nice set of new mugs for the house, I hung onto my perfect, bad-mojo mug.

Until this week, when it finally slipped from my grasp, crashed to the floor and shattered into several pieces. And I wasn’t even sad. I was actually quite relieved. Finally!

I was describing to another friend how I tend to hang onto things I know are bad for me because it doesn’t seem like there is anything better. She nodded and added, “Especially when there’s something in it for us.” Yeah, that pretty much hit home.

Oh, how I loved the color and texture and size of that mug. Oh, how I am glad that the universe finally took it from me.

Now, if I can just adjust to using a smaller mug and my lack of caffeine headaches.

This week I will let go of things that have bad mojo!

January 22, 2012

Okay, so I don’t want a bigger bone than I can handle, but just this week, after days and days of opening rejections letters, I prayed, “Please, at least throw me a bone.”

Yeah, just a bone to hold me over.

Joseph Campbell tells us to follow our bliss, then someone ingenious wrote a book about how if you follow your bliss, money will follow. I wish I had written that book, because following my bliss, though making me blissful, also makes me hungry and cold and home-bound, since I don’t have the money to buy food, pay the utility bills, or fill the gas tank.

So, I compromise, I work then I write, then I work, then I write. While I’m working I lament that I am trading my time for money. While I’m writing I’m tortured by the thought that I could be out doing something that actually makes me money.

And then I wonder if I shouldn’t just give up on that whole bliss thing anyway. It seems a bit overrated when you’re staring down at your toe peaking through the hole in your shoes.

At one of my motivational workshops I learned that the divine has given me my dreams and it is a lack of faith not to follow those dreams. But lately it’s felt like I am walking through the valley of the shadow of many rejections. Yeah, I know I’m not alone and if I knew who was walking right beside me…who is walking right beside me, I would not fear anything – and still. It’s been one of those weeks.

Friday, before 8 am I got a rejection notice for one of my essays. Then by 9 am – another. At the end of the day, I also was notified that my book proposal – though sure others would feel differently – wasn’t the right fit for this particular agent. I just wish these agents who are so sure they are wrong would introduce me to the agent who will feel differently.

My best writing buddy reminds me all the time that each “no” is one step closer to a “yes.” I just wonder if that isn’t like saying each brownie is one step closer to my running ten miles.

I’m afraid that God thinks I’m a chiwawa when I think I’m a great dane. I want a bone fit for a great dane.

And, my prayers were answered today. I was accepted into a pretigious writing workshop to study with my writing idol.

And, though it isn’t a book contract for my latest manuscript, it is a wonderful opportunity to read, write, commune and learn from other writers, and a time to follow my bliss.

This week I will be resolute in following the dreams I have been given by the divine.

January 16, 2011

Several weeks ago a group of us went to this really cool restaurant, Pappy and Harriet’s in Pioneertown http://www.pappyandharriets.com/. We’d seen it highlighted on “No Reservations with Anthony Bordain” and talked about going for months. We were promised great food and some entertainment.

Well, we got both. The food was delicious and the entertainment was even better. The entertainment line up included the “warm up” band, which played while we were eating which made talking nearly impossible, except, oddly enough, when we worried aloud that we would not have a place to sit to watch the next band if we gave up our table, the owner, who just happened to be nearby overheard.

“There’s another reservation for this table.”

Yeah, we knew. We saw the name on the placard under ours, an upscale version of the plastic Carls Jr. placard with a number on it. We also conveniently threw the placard in with the salad plates and bowls which was then whisked away by the bus boy. Unfortunately, the matron of the group promised our table next also had been informed that we were at her soon-to-be table and was hovering leeringly.

“We just want to be sure we can stay for the other bands,” we replied plaintively.

“I want you to stay too!” the owner yelled to us, just to be sure we could hear her, but also maybe to illustrate how furtively she wanted us to stay, how enthusiastic she was about us staying.

“Could you save us those chairs?” hubby asked, always the believer in knock and the door shall be answered.

Then, alas, all the chairs facing the stage had a “Reserved” tag taped to their tops and eventually, after dessert and coffee and avoiding the matron’s stare and glare treatment, we moved there and watched the next band set up. God forbid we stand to listen to a band.

As is usual with our group, we kept leaning toward each other to whisper “How old do you think he is?” Like, when did they start letting 13 year olds drive? When did they start letting 12 year olds get married in America? When did professional athletes start getting drafted out of middle school? Like really, when did we become old?

And that was the thing about this night. It had been a really long time since we had done anything like this, like maybe 15 years ago long. We have tried to age well, recognizing that loud noises only exacerbate our ringing ears, dancing only makes our inflamed knees inflame more, and late nights deepens those dark circles under our eyes. So we have been avoiding these things, late night, dancing and loud noises. Until this night. And suddenly we were transported to being young once again.

The Broken Numbers Band http://www.thebrokennumbersband.com/ did not disappoint. Meanwhile, that silly Amygdala - the brain area tied to emotional responses which fails to register our aging bodies – made us feel young again. The music started and we were all transported to a younger time. I even talked hubby into dancing for the last few songs, though both of us seem to have acquired a new type of rhythm, an arthritic-aspirin requiring rhythm.

And the band was cute, not in the screaming-tearing-your-hair-out type of cute. Remember, I’m old. Cute as in the “Oh, what sweet boys” cute.

So, we left a bit after 10 pm - A late night for us! - got in the car and, on the drive home, discussed the band.

“I wonder if they have Band Moms – like they have Team Moms.”

Yeah, that is what I have been reduced to.

I look at young people and see so much opportunity lying before them that I want to jump in and help organize things. They aren’t even my kids! Actually, my kid would probably welcome the distraction since I have spent the week cajoling him about wasting his life, to which he keeps responding, “I’m on winter break.” Yeah, like that matters.

So, three weeks later, I am still recovering from my big night out. Still wondering when I got so old, when I lost my rhythm, when 10pm became late, and where I can sign up to be Band Mom for those talented, young boys.

This week, I will soak my feet, take some aspirin, and once again listen to my The Broken Numbers Band CD.

January 8, 2012

Well, I have officially joined the population of those who have been hacked.

I quit using an email account and never deleted it, and the password was, you guessed it, a word. So there are these machines which try every word in the dictionary to figure out the password and then voila, you’ve been hacked.

It was rather nice that the hackers made my life seem so exotic, in Spain on an Exhibition visit, whatever that is. What was nicer though, was the outpouring of contacts and offers to help. I felt so loved! I heard from people I hadn’t heard from in years, and all offering to help!

Yeah, yeah, I also heard from people who had seen me just the day before and wanted to simply alert me – which was also very sweet, the first twenty people were sweet, then I was smiling through gritted teeth to thank the next twenty and pretending it was sweet. No, it was sweet, sweet like the 50th piece of chocolate is sweet, sickly sweet and you wished you had stopped on piece – oh, I don’t know, 49?

And, of course, I was at work, where I did not have access to my private email. Though everyone believes I live an exotic life, visiting Spain and being mugged, I actually still live in the 20th century. You know, I’m not embarrassed by this because the 20th century was not that long ago. And, still living in the 20th century means I do not have a wi-fi phone and do not carry my personal laptop everywhere I go, and even if I did, I go to McDonald’s or Starbucks when I do need wi-fi. And still living in the 20th century, I am amazed every day when I go to work and I am not allowed to log on to my personal email from my work computer. I am actually blocked, crazy fascist computer controls at work. Like as a teacher I could be answering personal emails, yeah, because 9th graders are so good at entertaining themselves without hurting each other or damaging classroom property. Yeah, now I understand why I’m not allowed to check my email on my lunch or breaks. That makes sense, if you live in Stalin’s Russia!

So, I spent the day, at least my breaks and lunch, calling and texting everyone to let them know I was fine. And I am fine. Actually, better than fine, because I feel so loved, and so superior. I have received these messages from my friends, which I always promptly delete. I know hacking when I see it.

As one  of my friends pointed out, “It was so poorly written. I knew it wasn’t you.”

Then there was the friend who texted me that I should bring him a souvenir!

This week I will smile each time I think of a person who hasn’t seen me in years but was willing to send me money in Spain.

January 1, 2012

Instead of looking forward toward what is in front of me, Ive decided to look behind and figure out what I’ve learned, even though that didn’t work out so well for Lot’s wife. Oh well, a little extra salt never hurt anyone, maybe made you a bit thirsty, but whatever.

So, here are my top 3  lessons from 2011.

Lesson #1. I learned how to put on lip liner. Yes, I am at that age when my lips are getting thinner and loosing their luster, yet, I am not interested in having permanent Halloween wax lips.

Instead, I consulted the woman with the most perfect lips I know, Katie. And she was generous enough back in April to allow me to write down the manufacturer and color of her magic wand, and voila, I now have lips again, well, when I apply them, and sure, sometimes they’re a bit uneven. I may have learned how to apply lip liner, but I have not perfected the application yet. As usual, I am a work in progress.

Lesson #2. You gotta make room for the new. I am not a hoarder, so when it is time for something new in my life, I make room for it. Unfortunately, sometimes the universe knows I’m ready even when I don’t. This year was a mix of endings and beginnings. My beloved canary, Notforlong, died in September. I didn’t realize how much that little yellow burst of song affected my life, until it was gone. I walked by his cage daily, looked up to say hello, and he wasn’t there… Then after an appropriate grieving period, I added two new birds to the family. They still don’t have names. Bill suggested Thelma and Louise. Wes likes Harold and Kumar. I was thinking more along the lines of Yoda and Buddha. I suppose we are following the cultural tradition of letting thier names be revealed to us. In any case, their names don’t matter. What matters is the beautiful song they have brought to the house.

And that has been the case for me with other beginnings and endings. So many people have moved out of my life because of a major change in my career situation, and I sorely miss interacting daily with them. Yet, so many surprises have been found in the new people in my life. I am glad there is room in my life for each in their place and time.

Lesson #3. People never cease to surprise me. I am a firm believer that I will encounter in my life the energy I put into the world, so it has been with much consternation that I have been disappointed by the negativity I’ve encountered in the last few years, and I spent time wondering how exactly I was manifesting this energy.

Then, right before Christmas, I was putting gift bags together for my students. My son walked through the room and asked me why I would be making gift bags. “They won’t appreciate them,” he told me, and a part of me agreed. Then my husband piped in, “Some of them will.” I believed both of them were right. I also believed that in either case, I had to make gift bags for them whether they appreciated them or not, because that was my energy.

Then, on the last day before vacation, I handed out gift bags, even to those students who had been admonished during class for being off-task or rude or defiant. I surrounded myself in positive energy, telling myself that I would focus on the kids who appreciated the effort I had made and ignore all the rest, those I was convinced would throw the bag on the floor, break the pencil, break the eraser and complain about the candy.

Instead, every kid was appreciative. ”Thanks Ms. M. I need a pencil,” I heard over and over and it was probably the best Christmas gift I’ve had in a long time – a reminder that people are always about to surprise me with kindness.

I have learned many other lessons this year. These are just the highlights. Someone famous once said, experience is the greatest teacher. I just want to add, it is also the culprit of my deepening wrinkles, frown lines and, most importantly, laugh lines.

This week I will look forward to the lessons ahead in 2012.

December 26, 2012

So, here we are, still in Provincetown, wondering if we shall ever get home.

Actually, the trip home was easy. Caught a ferry, hopped a plane and drove home, but I had this sinking feeling I wasn’t feeling too well.

And I was right. But, first, I started my new part-time teaching gig at Desert Hot Springs High School, my part-time class at UCR, began tutoring, and continued to work on my freelance projects hoping that nasty cold I had caught would go away. Finally, one night, I couldn’t breath, (yeah, that is what it takes for me to go to the doctor these days – not because I have a phobia, I just hate wasting the time!) and the doctor told me I had strep throat, gave me a nice shot in the butt, and sent me on my way. I went back three weeks later to get another round of antibiotics, then again a month later.

Not only was my eye lazy, my whole body was lazy, what with being sick and only (ONLY?) working part-time at four different jobs.

During my illness, Bill ran a 15 K, coached baseball, and taught each day. During my illness, Wes started college locally and continued to bulk back up after his four years of being a skinny distance runner. Now, he looks more like the Incredible Hulk rather than Plastic Man.

Halloween was uneventful, now that we live on our private hill, we don’t get trick or treaters and now that Wes is grown, no more taking him to the carnival. He did dress up and went out to several parties – cake and ice cream parties I’m sure. Bill and I just sat around and lamented that we had NO Halloween candy. Seriously, I kept asking him if he didn’t buy some to hand out at school and he kept asking me if I didn’t have some. Then the next morning, I found candy wrappers around the house. Apparently, Bill was just waiting for me to go to bed to break out the goodies. Did you see the Jimmy Kimmel challenge to parents to tell their kids all the Halloween candy had been eaten, and the kids cried – http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YQpbzQ6gzs - well, I was the girl who grabbed the wrappers and threw them, I wish I had thrown them at Bill, but I just threw the wrappers away and wondered what else happens while I’m asleep. Not that I would ever give up my beauty sleep – God knows I need that! – to find out, but I did wonder.

Thanksgiving was spent eating too much. Then Christmas, just ended yesterday, with a whole week of eating too much. When you wake up each morning still full – well, I’ve been wearing lots of sweat pants. Today, I thought I might be hungry, but I think it was just a stomach ache from all the leftovers I was eating.

So that is our year in epic trilogy form. Oh, here is a nice family portrait:

Sure, it’s from last year at Christmas – how do you think I fool everyone into thinking I’m not looking any older? That, and though we took the camera to Christmas, we did not take one single picture.

There are five days left in the year, but don’t worry, even if something epic, like more epic than this trilogy, happens, I will write another blog letting you know about it. “Marry Hotter and the Goblet of Hire” – yeah, maybe.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Joyous Kwanzaa, and Nice Day Off of Work thanks to all those religious fanatics to all!

This week I will relish the notion that I have completed a triology!

December 18, 2011

It was a cloudy, rainy day with Bill and me out in the yard pulling weeds with only a few weeks before the wedding… Yeah, we spent most of this year’s wet spring working in the yard. The cherry on top was pulling out all the California poppies ( I remembered from fourth grade that it is “illegal” to pull out the state’s flower, so they had proliferated in  my yard, well, mostly in my path – right where I didn’t want them. Bill eloquently stated, “They wouldn’t have grown so well if you had tried.” That must be the motif of my life!) and spreading new pea gravel.

The day of the wedding, I cringed when the wind picked up thinking of us all blown away, then cringed when it died down thinking of insects swarming. Luckily, the weather gods smiled upon us, and the day was perfect, a perfect start to a long and happy marriage.

Then I changed my facebook picture. I kept getting comments about how I hadn’t aged a bit and figured that eventually no one was going to believe “good lighting” and call me out on it.

Then God was willing and Wes graduated!

Then all our hard work on the yard made throwing his graduation party easy.

Then I, finally, was awarded my Masters of Fine Arts – but since I’m in charge of the camera, there are no pictures of me, besides, the lighting was really bad….

Then Bill went back to work in July, yeah, July. So much for going into teaching so you can have the summers off. Then I got a new job teaching part-time at Desert Hot Spring High School – freshmen English. It has been great working part-time, well, kind of part-time since I am still tutoring and actually added four new students to my schedule and freelancing for a video company writing their curriculum. Plus, I have been lucky enough to be teaching some writing courses at University of California, Riverside.

Then, Bill and I went to Provincetown, Massachusetts because I was accepting into a weeklong writing seminar. We flew in right before an incoming hurricane….

Remember, I’m writing a trilogy, and I’m dividing the year into thirds  and August is where I end. So…

We got to Boston to find out that all ferries to Provincetown had been cancelled because of the weather. We spent an extra day in Boston, hoping things would clear out. We walked the Freedom Trail, free of crowds because all the smart people were indoors, out of the rain, and out of the potential to be swept up in a hurricane. We, on the other hand, dodged fell trees, peered through locked gates at the closed tourist traps and ended up in a pizza place, chatted up the owner who lamented how things had changed, and ate some great pizza.

Bill was happy because his stomach was full. I was happy because we were out of the rain, then I became estactic because I found out that there was supposed to be a parade with thousands of people in the streets, the owner showed us pictures from last year, and, as most of you know, lots of people is my worst nightmare, so obviously, I was in heaven.

And, I’m not in the picture, guess who was holding the camera, and the lighting was… actually, do you know what wet weather does to my hair?

We made it to Provincetown, checked in and prepared for me to become a brilliant writer under the tutelage of Michael Lennon, a Norman Mailer expert and friend, and surrounded by the brilliance of well established writers. I was hoping some of it might rub off on me!

While there, September came and…

This week I will plan to write the end of my trilogy!

December 11, 2011

Well, it’s been a long year since I last contemplated writing a Christmas letter, and though I never did write that letter last year, let me pick up right where I would have left off.

We spent New Year’s in Tahoe. Since no one took a picture of me in Tahoe, yet I reminded often that I am a horrible mom because I fail to take enough pictures… here is a picture of Bill and Wes, which they failed to even really pose for.

The skiing was great for the boys, I watched a “Parolee and Pitbulls” marathon, and we brought in the New Year as we have most of our marriage, with me sound asleep and Bill out gambling. Wes, well, at his age, we try not to ask too many questions and hope he makes it into his twenties then to his thirties so he can finally tell us all the trouble he didn’t get caught for, survived, and learned from (we hope)! Yes, you guessed it, my New Year’s Resolution was the same as it has been since Wes became a teenager, “Don’t forget, ignorance is bliss!”

Considering my New Year’s Resolution, it’s amazing that I can even write any more of this letter since I don’t know most of what happened. But, I’ll let you know what I know. If you want to know more, try friending Wes on Facebook, which, if he listens to his mom, he will deny out of good taste and in an effort to preserve my reputation as a competent mother.

Bill wants me to add that he had a killer roll while in Tahoe. Killer? What does that mean you ask? He will tell you he won. I will tell you I have no idea, because I have also learned that the key to a happy marriage is – Ignorance is bliss!

The rest of the winter and spring were spent as usual. Bill coaching baseball – they were ranked 19th in the state but didn’t make post conference play. Wes running track and getting passing grades in school. I continued to work on my Master’s of Fine Arts.

Diane, getting your masters … didn’t you already do that? Many of you may be asking. Well, I’ve almost completed two masters. And believe me, this was almost my third almost Masters, but, you’ll have to read next week to find out if I actually did finish it. (Yes, I do count Bill’s Masters as my accomplishment too, so technically I have earned a Master’s Degree).

We offered our house for our niece’s wedding, and since I was working on my Master’s, I had not been working on the yard. Guess what we did come rain, hail, sleet or dark of night – pulled weeds. I got a great workout. The yard did get done in time and then it was done for Wes’s graduation party – God willing that he graduated.

Yeah, the first part of the year was rather uneventful, but we were all blessed with every day things, a happy home, good health, and the ability to complete whatever tasks that were set before us.

The next part of the year was much more exciting, so stay tuned!

This week I will draft, revise and edit the next installment of the Christmas Letter trilogy, “Endings and Beginnings.”

December 4, 2011

Every year I look forward to Christmas letters from my friends. Especially those friends whom, because of time constraints and distance, we rarely get to see but love dearly. I must admit I am partial to the snarky letters, which are fewer and farther between because it seems most moms have turned over the Christmas letter writing to their prolific children and without experience under their belts, these kiddos have yet to develop the snarky tone.

I have never, until now, written a Christmas letter. It used to be that I thought I had very little to share – and this is still probably true, but since I love finding out the less than earth shattering details of my friends’ lives, I thought there might be people out there who are interested in those details in our lives.

Then, I didn’t write a letter because the competition was too stiff. I could never write a letter as funny as Cathy Smith, so why try. I thought about just photocopying her letter, whiting out her name on the letter, scribbling in mine and sending it out but I wasn’t interested in fielding all the questions about how I suddenly had so many children, was blonde, and Bill was tall and lean. Yeah, she included pictures too! Seriously. But, I haven’t received a letter from Cathy in years, so the pressure is off.

I’ve decided this is the year I will begin the tradition of writing the Christmas letter. I think it’s a good time to start since, as Bill pointed out to me today, we’ll be lucky if we have another 29 good years. So, I’m staring down 29 more years of Christmas letters, because I would never let down my reading audience and not come through with a promised edition.

Since I have a lot of Christmas letter writing to catch up on, and since all great writers wrote trilogies: C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, George Lucas… I’ve decided I should write a trilogy. Hold your breath for the slightly less than fulfilling ending or as we writers like to call it, the promise of another manuscript.

And since I’m new at this type of manuscript, I’ll start at the beginning, relying on chronological storytelling so I don’t trip myself up on flashbacks (sign of an amateur according to The Writers Digest anyway!), multiple narratives (I can barely keep all my own voices in my own head straight without trying to tell the tale from the point of view of Bill or Wes), or avante garde – well, actually, if you think this is awful, it is because it is avante garde and you just don’t understand it!

And since the rule for blogs is 500 words and I am closing in fast on that number… I suppose I will have to wait until next week to begin my Christmas letter – that’s called great marketing or building the author-reader relationship, creating a stir about the book because now everyone is anticipating the release date and it gives you time to tell all your friends.

Speaking of friends, shameless plug, if you still need to buy a gift for a friend who likes to read then my book “Weekly Affirmations” is available on amazon http://www.amazon.com/Weekly-Affirmations-Pre-Menopausal-Women-Mierzwik/dp/1596636017 or you can get a signed copy from me, just shoot me an email.

So, hold your breath for next week’s first of three installments of the Christmas letter trilogy.

This week I will write and rewrite the first of my Christmas letter trilogy.

November 27, 2011

I know it’s the holidays and just after Thanksgiving and I just read a post on Yahoo.com about the benefits of gratitude, but really, I am not grateful for the idea that “no news is good news.”

Seriously, no news means that what is happening on the other end is a person taking the time to contemplate, to weigh the options, to be talked into the proposition, rather than embracing the situation wholeheartedly.

LIke the boy who tells you he will call you after your first date, then days go by. Was that ever good news?

Or after the job interview when you tell yourself, “They’re checking my references before offering me the job” and even you only half believe it.

Or when you send out your manuscript and wait and wait and wait.

Sure, sure, for the more prestigious magazines there are rounds and rounds of cuts. First you have to get past the slush pile reader. Then you have to get past the general committee reader, then you have to get past the committee of readers. I understand that. I get that. Still, no news means the piece has not been accepted for publication, so how can it be good news? Because they’re still deliberating? Because that boy might still call you five days later?

No news means you can continue to delude yourself into thinking that good news is on the way. But, isn’t it a delusion?

Then when you get the bad news, some kind soul, usually your mother, tells you “It’s for the best. Something better is on its way.”

WHEN?

I didn’t set up my high expectations (via the directions from The Secret) so I could wait and wait and wait while deluding myself with hope that somewhere in the future things will work out for the best.  I could be hit by a car tomorrow. I need something good to happen today!

Albert Einstein is famously quoted as saying, “There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.”

Well, it’s a miracle I haven’t self-imploded with all my no news and waiting.

My Buddhist friend reminds me that no news is no news.

Like that helped. Just what I needed, for someone to get all zen on me.

I’ll concede that no news is not bad news, and there is the potential for good news at a later date, but I happen to be soul mates with Veruca Salt, and I want it now!

I suppose that makes me a rotten egg.

So while I continue to have no news, I guess I’ll distract myself with other things to keep my mind off the no news thingy. what was that news I was waiting for???

This week I will remember that no news is no news, not bad news, not good news, just no news.