I AM BEAUTIFUL…Just the Way I Am

Oh my goodness, you guys!  Your response to I Am Beautiful…Just the Way I Am was so sweet and lovely!  I loved reading all your comments, and LOVE that the general consensus is that beauty comes in all forms and springs from places unseen.

I’m so tickled by those of you who were willing to show us your real selves – the everyday you, as the world sees you – not just the you that’s primped and curled and ready for the camera (though, don’t worry, I’ll give you the chance for that soon!).

Here you are, dear friends.  Beautiful you, JUST THE WAY YOU ARE!

A big hug to all of you who participated in February’s I AM BEAUTIFUL campaign!  Each and every one of you are lovely beyond measure!

p.s.  This week (February 26th through March 3rd) is National Eating Disorders Awareness Week.  August McLaughlin has a fabulous interview on her blog with filmmaker Diane Israel.  Diane is an amazing woman with incredible perspective on the topic of true beauty.  I highly recommend you check it out!

p.p.s.  I have something really fun planned for March’s I AM BEAUTIFUL, so stay tuned!

ROW80 Check-In 02-29-12

Howdy!

Here’s how my week looked:

WRITING:

Goal: Work on WIP in evening after kids go to bed.

Reality: This seems to be working well, although I haven’t managed it every night of the week.  Some nights I crash almost as soon as they do.  :)  But, I’m making good progress – the Hubster occupied the kids for a large portion of this weekend, allowing me to get 4-5 hours in – an unheard of chunk of time!  Thanks, T-Man!

BLOGGING/SOCIAL MEDIA:

Goal: Read and promote other’s blogs 1 hr/day in the morning.

Reality: So far I’ve managed to make this work, although I never am able to get to as many blogs as I’d like.

Goal: Write 4 posts/week to stockpile for baby’s arrival.

Reality: This actually hasn’t been a problem at all.  In fact, it’s eeking into my writing time in the evening.  Who knew nesting urges would bleed into blog writing?

Goal: Schedule blog posts for when baby arrives.

Reality: This is going well! I’m so grateful to you lovely volunteers. Those who have already sent me your posts, thanks! And those whose posts are on the way, I can’t wait to see what you send me!  It really means so much to me that you’re willing to help.  These WANA methods are the bomb!

Goal: Reduce blogging to three times a week.

Reality: Yep.  I did it.  And while it’s definitely easier on me, it’s not been easy to accept.  I’ll be interested to see how my traffic fares in March because of the reduced content.  I keep reminding myself that after Little Miss Took arrives and life smooths out again, I can always go back to posting more often.  Right now, though, I’ll stick to this goal.

HOMESCHOOL:

Goal: Ignore social media during homeschool time.

Reality:  This worked about 85% of the time.  There were some down times when I was able to do a little blog-reading on my phone, so I guess you could say I cheated a little.  But, committing to a work/school schedule has really smoothed out lots of bumps.  I think we’re falling into a rhythm here that we can easily maintain.

EXERCISE/EATING HEALTHY:

Goal: Put 5 minute test mile theory back into practice.

Reality: Nope.  Didn’t do it.  Not even a little.  This momma is tuckered out from chasing her offspring around while carrying a giant kicking watermelon in her abdomen.

Goal: Allow myself to nest.

Reality:  Giggle, snort.  I don’t think there would be any stopping me at this point.

Goal: Whole foods brekkie and lunches.

Reality:  Easy, peasy.  This one’s been no problem at all.

So, overall, I’m tickled with how the week went.  I can definitely feel myself slowing down, but the end is in sight, pregnancy-wise, and so it feels pretty short term.  Give me a couple months, and I’ll be zipping around like a crazy woman again!

I hope y’all had happy, productive weeks, too.  Lots o’ love,

Myndi

Q&A: Alica McKenna Johnson

I am super-psyched to introduce you Alica McKenna Johnson today.  She’s not new to my blog – you can check out her guest post here – but she’s recently released her novel PHOENIX CHILD, which is super-exciting news, any way you slice it.  This seems like a fabulous time for you to get to know her a little better, don’tchya think?  Check out the little Q&A we had the other day…

ME:  Alica!  Your new book has just been published, which is so very cool.  The day after PHOENIX CHILD was available online, what was the first thing you did when you woke up?

ALICA: Great question!  Nothing too exciting.  I was working, so up at 5:20 AM, opened the computer and logged in.  Then I woke up the first child, checked email, squealed at seeing two more purchased from Smashwords, got kids to bus by 6AM, woke my two personal kids (hubby was also working), woke two more work kids, when they were done in the bathroom woke final two work kids, made breakfast and managed to get them all off to school while obsessively checking Amazon, Smashwords, Facebook, and Twitter.

ME: Holy cow, woman, you are busy!  Six kids, four of which are foster kids (is that the right term?)…it makes my head spin.

Quick, which do you relate most to?  Hamster in a wheel, kangaroo with a pouch full of rowdy joeys, or goddess divine who can breeze through anything life throws at her?

ALICA: It’s actually five kids, did I leave one out?  The term ‘foster’ works, but I’m technically a houseparent  in a group home.  

I like to imagine that I’m a divine goddess, but really I think I’m more a kangaroo desperately trying to keep everything together.  Hey, what happened to my opposable thumbs?  I need those!

ME: Okay, first of all, anybody who’s a houseparent immediately gets rockstar status in my book.  Secondly, opposable thumbs are an absolute necessity.  How else would I drag the offspring around by their ears all day long?  And thirdly, I clearly can’t count, because now I totally see that you listed five kiddos, not six.  Scary thing, isn’t it, to think that I’m responsible for teaching my kids math…

ALICA: Don’t worry, Myndi.  Your kids will help you learn math.  :)

As for rockstar status, I don’t know about that.  Most of the time I’m desperately trying not to lose my temper!  

ME: That’s okay – I’ve heard rockstars have been known to lose their tempers a time or two…

Hey, speaking of homeschooling, you’ve been down that path before, and are looking to start up again.  In the spirit of homeschooling camaraderie, riddle me this: What’s the silliest question you’ve had to fend from non-homeschooling folks?

ALICA: I loved homeschooling, and most of the people we hung out with either home-schooled, or were alternative thinking, so I didn’t get too much flack.  But while we were on vacation in Denver some guy in a shop asked my son some weird question about a quarter – it might have been who was on it, or what the newest state quarter was?  All I remember was thinking he was crazy and a regular school kid wouldn’t know the answer!

My mom used to worry that my son was ‘too smart and active’ to be home-schooled.  And of course, there’s the ‘but what if you don’t know it?’ question.  Umm…I look it up?  I learned a ton homeschooling my kids.

ME: As I’m sure you’re well aware (because I can’t seem to shut my yapper about it), I’m about ready to pop out my fourth child.  You’ve mentioned in passing that you’ve home-birthed more than once.  Again, rockstar status is in order here.  I kind-of dig the idea, but I’ve never been able to get the Hubster on board.  How did you convince your Hunny it was the thing to do?

ALICA: Well, with my first hubby – once I stopped crying, realizing I was unmarried, 19, and pregnant – I said, ‘By the way, you know I’m having this baby at home.’  He wasn’t sold on the idea, but once we went to Bradley Child Birthing Classes, he was good with it.  We felt very secure with the midwife I picked.  Good thing, too, because he almost delivered Logan by himself!

Hubby #2 is as alternative as I am and dislikes hospitals as much as I do, so that one was easy.

I was blessed with a midwife that I trusted, and easy, healthy pregnancies.  I’m so glad I had my babies at home, and have even been invited to attend a few births.  So amazing…and I always hold my breath until the baby cries.

ME: Isn’t that first cry of life the most amazing, relieving thing?

ALICA: It’s amazing.  I don’t think I can describe it.  Just thinking about it fills me with hope and joy.

ME:  How old are your kiddos now, and what’s the one thing that sticks out in your mind that motherhood has taught you?

ALICA: Let’s see…my kiddos are 17 and 12.  What has motherhood taught me?  That being a good parent is more than just how you raise your children, it’s also how much work you’re willing to do to become a better person so you can show your kids how they can be their best.  Does that make sense?

ME: Absolutely!  So much is taught through observation.  I don’t think we can underestimate how much they learn from us when we don’t realize they’re watching.  

Back to this book of yours.  What did it feel like when you got to the place with your manuscript and realized, “THIS IS DONE!”?

ALICA:  At first I was shocked.  I just stared at the computer screen.  Then I jumped for joy and told everyone I could think of.  Then I realized I still had to edit and revise, and then I wanted to cry just a little bit.  Okay, a lot.  But after some moral support and chocolate, I pulled myself together.

ME:  Mmmmm, chocolate.  Favorite kind?

ALICA:  Is there any bad chocolate?  LOL.  I do prefer dark chocolate, and I like quality chocolate.  No cheap stuff for me.

ME:  …can we still be friends if I admit I have a love affair with Hershey’s with almonds?

(silence)

ME: Um….back to PHOENIX CHILD, shall we?  *grins awkwardly and throws Hershey’s wrapper behind sofa*  Give me a fast run-down of what the book’s about.

ALICA:  PHOENIX CHILD is a Young Adult Urban Fantasy.  Sara lives in a group home and is trying to make the best of her life in the system.  Waking up the morning of her fourteenth birthday, she finds her appearance has changed, and she has powers – like bursting into flames – that she doesn’t want.  

Soon she finds a family.  Not only others like her, but an uncle she never knew existed shows up in her life.  Confronted by the evil that killed her parents, Sara has to decide if she will let her fears win, or find the courage to accept her destiny and save her people.

ME: Sounds totally fantastic!  Who do you think would most enjoy PHOENIX CHILD?

ALICA:  I hope I have written a book that will appeal to teens and adults.  I know so many adults who love YA that I didn’t want to focus on just one age group.  

ME:  Where can folks purchase your book?

ALICA:  You can purchase PHOENIX CHILD at Amazon and Smashwords.  Both places have a free preview – 30 pages, I think.  

ME: Lovely!  Thanks for stopping by Alica!

ALICA: Thanks for having me, Myndi.  I’ve had a great time.

QUICK GIGGLE: If Animals Could Talk

Happy Hausfrau: Dirty Little Secret

The Happy Hausfrau had a dirty little secret.

Nobody would have guessed.  Nobody would have thought.  She had worked with the kind of diligence only fear could breed to keep her secret just that.  Secret.

Even so, she lived in constant fear that someday somebody would discover her dirty little secret and expose what she’d kept hidden in plain sight.   That somebody might reveal the skeleton living in her microwave.

Her hands shook as she lit a cigarette from the emergency pack she kept in the freezer.  Her I’ll-Take-Mine-Rare red nails matched the door that hid the evidence – whispers of scandalous midnight rendezvous with leftovers better left untouched, dark tales of defrosted meat gone wrong, rumors of popcorn badly burnt…

Tap.  Tap-tap.  Tappity-tap.  The gentle sound of her computer keys as she Googled and Pinterested were reassuring, like the words of an understanding confidant.  With any luck she’d find what she needed to get the deed done before the kids got home from school.  The thought of it – of living out from under the thumb of that silent, threatening burden – sparked a tiny, smoke-filled, half-hysterical giggle.

Suddenly her hands froze.  She pulled the cigarette from her lips and leaned closer to the screen.  What was this?  She read slowly, carefully, flicking the ashes from her smoke into her empty bourbon glass.

Oh, yes.  This would do.  This would do nicely.  Now no-one would ever have to know what happened behind that blood-red door.

Ever.

This is the 'after'. The 'before' is too damn scary to show. Click this picture to check out Crafty Little Gnome's blog on how to clean your microwave - you won't be sorry! (Hint: It involves vinegar & water and is SUPER SIMPLE!)

P.S.  There’s still time to send me your pic for the I AM BEAUTIFUL…Just the Way I Am follow-up post.  Send your photos to myndishafer at rocketmail dot com by Feb. 24, and I’ll make sure to include them in the follow-up post that will run on the 29th!  Make your declaration of REAL BEAUTY to the world!  *hugs*, Myn

ROW80 Check-In

Hi!

*waves hello*

I can’t believe it’s Wednesday already.  Time is flying by the closer I get to my due-date.  Little Miss Took will be here before we know it…EEK!  :)

So, I did manage to take a look at my goals…I can’t say that they changed all that much, but my thoughts are a little more organized, and I did set up some boundaries as to when/where/how they’ll get done.  That’s a good thing.  Pregnancy hormones can cause sensibility-blindness, and I these days I need a clear reminder of when it’s okay to shut off one area of my life to focus on another.

Here’s what I’m looking at:

WRITING:

*Work on the WIP after the kids go to bed in the evening.  Trying to do any serious work while they’re vying for my attention just doesn’t work.

*Stop beating myself up for not getting to it during the day.  That’s just the way my schedule is.  It’s not good or bad; it just is.

BLOGGING/SOCIAL MEDIA:

*Read and promote other folk’s blogs 1 hr/day in the morning while the kids are working on quiet projects.  This is Monday through Friday only.  Cut myself a break on Sat and Sun.

*Write one blog post/day 4 days a week in an effort to stockpile blogs for baby’s arrival.  Write these during SweetZ’s naptime.

*Schedule guest posts for when baby arrives. *cough* Any volunteers out there?  :)    *hugs* (and a HUGE thanks to those of you who’ve already volunteered!)

*Reduce blogging to three times a week (not counting ROW80 check-ins), and switch my ROW80 check-ins to Wednesdays.  No blogging on weekends anymore.

HOMESCHOOL:

*When it’s homeschool time, focus on that.  Social Media and Blogging and the WIP are on the farthest burner during that time.  Family first.

EXERCISE/HEALTHY EATING:

*Go back to the five minute ‘test mile’ theory.  I’m in the heat of the last trimester energy drain, and it’s okay that my body is tired and demanding rest.  *mantra* I am not a wimp.  I am not a wimp.  I am not a wimp…

*Allow myself to nest, and make lists, even if it drives the rest of my family nutso.  :)

*Continue with the whole foods breakfasts, and add in lunches.  This goal is so very YUM!

 I’ll let you know next week how it’s working out.  ’Till then, happy ROW-ing!

P.S.  There’s still time to send me your photo for the I Am Beautiful…Just the Way I Am campaign!  Send me your pic at myndishafer at rocketmail dot com.  I need ‘em by Feb 24; the follow-up post will run Feb 28!  

Letters from Mynniesue: Dishwasher Tutorial

To the dear soul who found my blog searching for How does soap box open on dishwasher:

I want to help.

Doing dishes is hard.  It’s a chore nobody likes.  A dishwasher is meant to make that job easier, not harder.  And it breaks my heart to think that you came to my blog looking for an answer, and got none.

Let me walk you through it, dearest (go ahead and bookmark this page in case you need help with it again).

First, you need to open the dishwasher.  That’s the big door on the front.  Mine is black.  Yours might be white, or stainless steel, or covered with wood to match your cabinets.  It might even be old-school Harvest Yellow or Avocado Green.  That’s okay.  Dishwasher diversity is a good thing.  Don’t be a hater; embrace it.

Once your dishwasher is open, look at the inside of the door.  There you should see the soap dispenser, or as you put it, the soap box.

Gently push the little blue lever (again, yours might be a different color),

and the lid will spring open.  It’s almost like magic!

At this point I like to shout abracadabra! or voila! or, if I’m feeling particularly Kansas-y, yeeeee-haw!  Vocalizing my excitement doesn’t help the dispenser to open, but it makes the moment much more enjoyable.  Feel free to borrow my exclamations, or you can come up with your own.  It’s okay to get caught up in the moment.  No one will blame you for your excitement.

Now don’t forget, after you’ve added your soap, to close the lid.  Dishwashers are strong-willed, independent machines.  They like to decide for themselves when to add soap to the wash cycle.  Arguing with them about it won’t help.  Trust me on this.  Dishwashers are stubborn as mules.  Since mine cleans my dishes without complaining, I long ago conceded this area of housewifery control.  I highly reccomend you do the same.

I hope this helps you in your quest, and that you somehow find your way back to my blog and to this post.

All the best,

Mynniesue

ROW80 Check-In

Hi happy Row-ers!

I’m keeping it short today.  Last week was up and down – lots of school demands, lots of preggers fatigue.  I think it’s time to re-evaluate what I can realistically get done in the months before and after Little Miss Took is born, and readjust my goals/schedule.

But I’m not going to do that today.  I’ll get it done by Wednesday, and post an update then.  Today, I’m spending time with the family, catching up on blog writing/reading, and working a little on the WIP.

Happy ROW-ing this week!

Big grins,
Myndi

QUICK GIGGLE: Guilt is a heavy burden.

Jumping into the Deep End

A long, long time ago, back when we had one-and-a-half kids less than we do now, my sweet little family and I lived on the Big Island of Hawai’i.

*Taking a moment to sigh wistfully.  Feel free to feel envy, jealousy, covetousness, resentment, what-have-you toward me for that fair bit of good fortune.*

Anyway…

I revisit that time of life quite often.  Out of all my memories, those two years spent on a giant hunk of lava are some of my most vivid.  I could spend hours telling(typing) all kinds of stories about a naive young family from Nebraska who sold all their worldly possessions (except what could fit into a few boxes) and moved half a continent and half an ocean away.  Sight unseen.  No clue whatsoever of what waited for us.

But I won’t.  Instead, I’ll just tell you one story.  For now.  (I reserve the right to bore you with all the other stories at a later date.  *enter evil laugh here*  It’s my blog, after all.)

Not long after our arrival, we, along with a sweet couple we’d recently met, decided to go to the beach.  Now, beaches on Big Island are different than what normally comes to mind when you think Hawaiian beaches.  Big Island is a young island, as far as islands go, and long stretches of uninterrupted white sand are a rarity there.  The few that do exist can be difficult to get to (Think 4-wheel driving across unforgiving beds of lava.  Something we weren’t keen on doing just yet, especially since we were driving about in a borrowed car).

So, we headed to a place called Two-Step.  One of the most beautiful places you’ll ever go for snorkeling.

The problem with Two-Step, though, is that it’s not really a beach.  It’s simply a shelf of lava that juts out into the ocean.  Gorgeous, mind you – the contrast of that wet, black shelf against the brilliant blue hues of the water…It’s something to look at.  But there’s no sand to speak of, and the water there isn’t child friendly.

That wasn’t going to dampen our spirits, though.  The Hubster and his new buddy took off for some snorkeling, while my sweet new friend Em and I stayed back to hang out with the kids, exploring the little nooks and crannies in the lava with my then 2-year old boy, while my little 4 month old baby slept on a blanket nearby.  I’m not gonna lie.  It was a killer way to spend the afternoon.

At some point, I decided I wanted to swim out and find the Hubster.  Em said she’d stay behind to watch the kids, so off I went, eager to splash a little.

Before I go on, there’s a little background about me you need to know:

I grew up in Kansas.  KANSAS.  A landlocked stretch of country that boasts gorgeous skies, lovely pastures, freakishly diverse weather and unforgiving wind.  Not a lot of water here, though, and nothing even laughably close to the mighty Pacific.  Even though I’d been swimming since I was little, every bit of swimming I’d ever done up to that point was in muddy pasture ponds, or State-dug lakes.  Bodies of water with no current.  No waves.  No uneven hunks of lava underneath you, teeming with things just waiting to inflict pain on you.  There’s just murky, brown water that is often shared by cows and humans alike.

Even so, I wasn’t going to let my lack of experience hinder me.  I boldly made my way to the edge of the lava shelf, where tourists and locals had gathered to step down into the ocean – the place where Two Step had gotten its name.  Here, when the waves pulled back a little, you could see the lava had formed into two ‘steps’ leading into the great blue abyss.

I waited patiently for my turn, watching as people gleefully jumped out into the warm, tropical water.  My chest was pulling tighter and tighter the closer I got.  There’s no need to freak.  It’s just water.  You know how to swim.  My little mini-pep talk was pathetic, and I knew it.  But there was no way I was going to turn back and admit my cowardice.  Pride pushed me onward.  I was a trembling but stubbornly determined mess by the time my turn came.

Gingerly, I stepped down onto the first step.  A huge wave of tsunami proportions (as it seemed to me) came rushing up at that exact moment.  My feet never touched the second step.  The wave pulled me out away from the shelf, and there was Midwestern Myndi flapping around in the water just like a fish out of water.

Ever aware that there were people around me, watching, I tried to act cool about it.  Like I’d been doing this my whole life.  I’m 100% certain no one was fooled.  For one thing, I’m a terrible actor/liar.  Everything I’m feeling in a particular moment is displayed on my face whether I want it to or not.  I’m pretty sure the expression my face carried in those moments could be described as utter-terror-I’m-too-young-to-die-oh-my-gosh-what-in-the-heck-just-brushed-by-my-leg??? .  But even if my face hadn’t given away just how out of my element I was, my skin color certainly did.  I’m what my friend Liz calls ‘an alabaster beauty’.  My skin is so fair, that when our family doctor in Omaha learned that we were moving to the Islands, he advised that I take out stock in a sunscreen company.  And he wasn’t joking.  Anybody with half a functioning eye could see that I didn’t belong.

So not only was I flapping around like a fish out of water, I looked like a fish out of water.  On top of that, I felt like a fish out of water.  It suddenly dawned on me that I was terrified of this thing called the Pacific Ocean.  I think I even hated it a little.  I may have even told it so, in the water-logged, profanity-filled language of a native Kansas cowgirl.

It was at that moment that some idiot dude in a snorkeling mask swam up to me.  Somehow I was managing to keep my head above water, but every time my breathing would begin to even out, a killer wave intent on sending me to a watery grave (Em’s hubster would later inform me through thinly masked amusement that these were hardly considered waves, but ripples) would send me back to borderline hyperventilating and hysteria.  It was at this exact moment that this idiot dude decided to hit on me.  For real.

Him:  It’s a rush, isn’t it?

Me: What?? 

Him:  The water.  It’s a rush!

Me (frantically looking around for the Hubster, barely able to comprehend that this guy was trying to talk to me):  Yeah, I guess.  

(Wave hits again.  I splash wildly trying to turn direction and swim the heck away from this moron.)

Him:  Hey, where are you going?  I thought we’d swim out together.

(Now I’m not only worrying about being drowned by an ocean that apparently hates me and wants me dead, but I’ve got some kind of aqua-stalker following me around.  My paddling becomes even more frantic, getting me absolutely nowhere.)

Me (trying to sound indignant, not panicky):  I’m going to swim with my HUSBAND.

Him:  Myndi?

Me (to self):  Oh my god, he knows my name.  How in the hell does he know my name??

Him (louder):  MYNDI!

Me: *sob* Leave me alone!

(Somehow the evil ocean has turned me around again.  I’m face to face with this weirdo, and I’m trying to figure the odds of me managing to paddle straight through him without drowning in the process.)

Him (a little more urgently):  Myndi, it’s me.  It’s Thomas!

(He pulls the goggles and snorkel off.  I stare at him in shock as he morphs from some weird-a$$ stranger to my dearly beloved Hubster, who just moments ago I was certain I’d never see again.)

Of course I immediately sea-cow lunged for him, locking my legs and arms around him in a vice grip, nearly drowning us both.  He couldn’t stop laughing as he towed his poor water-logged wife to shore.  I’d never been so happy to see him, or my kids, or dry land.

After that day, the Hubster and I had an agreement.  I wouldn’t go back to Two Step.  Ever.  And I’d never attempt snorkeling.  Ever.  I didn’t give a rats behiney how gorgeous the underwater world was.  How it was just like ’Finding Nemo’ down there.  How the turtles would swim with you and the world would go silent around you.  Nope.  Not ever.  Not for me.  We’d seek out the few sandy beaches and stick to those – beaches where I could feel the sand gradually slope down under my toes, where I wouldn’t be afraid to pull my kids into the water.

That, my friends, was my first plunge into the Pacific Ocean.

Any other aqua-phobes (word?) out there?  Funny underwater stories that you’re dying to share?  C’mon, make me feel better about my first foray into the wide blue yonder!