Why I Love Romance Novels

I love to read.

That statement is quite a "Duh" moment for anyone who knows me. But what a lot of people may not know is this:
I love to read Romance Novels.

This may surprise some people. It may even dismay others--sorry Mom. But before any judgments are too ingrained, let me explain.

I'm not necessarily talking just about what I call "Bodice-Rippers." Those novels that go from one steamy scene to another with little to no plot in between. Novels where it's obvious the author writes with a thesaurus open next to her keyboard. How many synonyms are there for passionate anyway? Not to mention all the other, um, interesting synonyms they find. These books can be great for a laugh or to use as a guide on how not to seduce your spouse. But they don't exactly move my heart and soul the way a good book should. Plus there are too many pages that I need to skip over. :)

No, the books I love have more plot than steam. They have characters that face dilemmas. People I can understand and care about. Emotions I can connect with. Two people that are just as flawed as I am trying to make it to happily ever after.

And that, really, is the reason I read Romance. That guaranteed happy ending. The boy will get the girl (or vice-versa). The problems will be overcome. The misunderstandings resolved; the fears faced; and the hope, joy, and love embraced. There aren't many things better than a story with a happy ending.

There are a lot of books and authors that fit my definition of a Romance Novel. Jane Austen has never let me down. L. M. Montgomery, even Charlotte Bronte in Jane Eyre. And, of course, there's plenty to pick from in modern fiction. Almost too many to really appreciate. It's no secret that I love the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer (at least it really shouldn't be to anyone reading this blog). Enthusiasm is another of my favorites in the Young Adult category. I hesitate to start naming more books or authors for fear that I may never be able to stop. Although if any of you have either authors or books to suggest, I'm always open to that.

Suffice it to say that if it is well-written, involves characters that are well-developed, avoids obvious preaching, and ends with a boy and girl (or man and woman) getting together, it's probably on my list. There is enough bad news already in the world. I don't want to read a novel mired down in it.

Thank goodness for Romance Novels

Resolutions and the Ensuing Panic

Do you make resolutions for the New Year? I do. And this year, some of them scare me.

Most of them are pretty tame: get organized, get my budget in working order, lose weight, finish our 72 hour kits. The standard ones, for me at least.

But then there are a few that terrify me. Just before Little Man was born, I was working on a personal mission statement. I felt like I needed more direction to my life. Plus I was just days away from giving birth, so my hormones were making me certifiable. I was using some online prompts to formulate and idea of what I wanted and how to get there. One of the questions was "If time and money were not obstacles, and if success were guaranteed, what would you do?" Fun question, huh?

I wrote down my honest answers, and then there they were on my paper. OY. All of a sudden they terrified me. Out of my mind scared. I can hear myself screaming in my head whenever I think of it. Sometimes a whimper even escapes.

I'm not ready to share them here, but I can't ignore them. Answering that question honestly is going to change my life. And, while everything but survival took a back seat during Little Man's first year, I can't ignore those answers/goals any longer. I'm working on them, and I'm working on being brave enough to announce them to the world in general. Until then, I want to hear from you--anyone who reads this. What would your answer be? If time and money were no obstacles--if you had more than enough of both of them--if success were guaranteed to any degree you wanted--what would you do? Who would you be? What would you change? Be honest and brave. Maybe I can be too.

Ode to Dad

Ok, so the title is a little misleading. I'm not writing an ode. I'm definitely not feeling that poetic this morning. But I do want to publicly acknowledge how amazing my dad is.

I'm sorry I missed posting this before your birthday, Dad, but consider this an extension of the celebration.

From you I learned how to laugh at myself and the world around me; how to enjoy literature and popular fiction alike; how to drive a stick-shift and change my tires and oil (skills which still continue to impress my mechanic husband); how to be proud of my own achievements and still happy for those I love; how to enjoy a horrible pun; how to value myself as a woman and as a person. Thank you, Dad, for all you've taught me. I wouldn't be the woman I am without you. Happy Birthday with all my love.

Is it any wonder we wanted Little Man to share a name with this great man? I love you Dad!!!

Loss and Grief

I have been dreading these two days for weeks. Yesterday and today mark the days when, two years ago, I discovered I had lost the baby I thought I was carrying. I knew these days would be difficult. I didn't want them to be difficult. I want to be completely over this. To have the pain and the grief and the emptiness gone. But I know that's never going to happen. They will always be a part of me. I just hope that it won't always be this raw. I'm surprised at how jagged the edges of my grief still are. I don't think of it terribly often through the rest of the year. Every now and then. But not often. But on the anniversary of this loss I can think of little else.

I stood at my bedroom window yesterday watching the rain. And I thought, "This is what it should have been like that day. The rain, the gray, the gloom and cold and wet." But it was beautiful then. Crystal clear blue skies, clean air, white snow. Nearly the perfect winter weather. Perhaps some day I'll find comfort in the fact that it was still beautiful even with that horror going on. But not now. Now the pain is still so strong I wonder that the whole world didn't grieve along with me.

There is a lot about the past few years that is a blur in my memory. I've been so tired and so busy (and sometimes so sick) that is was all I could do to survive. Committing things to memory was far too much effort. But those 2 days two years ago are burned into me. I couldn't forget a moment of them if I tried. I keep reliving the ultrasound. We had gone to the appointment so happy, so calm, so arrogant. Certainly grateful and blessed to be doing it again, but not worried or anxious about anything. I didn't even worry when the little microphone didn't pick up a heartbeat. Those are temperamental on the best of days. Even when I'm nearly to term it can be a struggle to find just the right spot to hear that rhythm. When the portable ultrasound didn't find anything but the amniotic sac, I was a little confused, but not terribly nervous. The midwife seemed confident that there was nothing wrong. The machine is unreliable, she said. I try never to use it, she said. We'll just go check in the ultrasound room with the good equipment. Everything will be fine.

Then, when the ultrasound technician carefully kept her face blank, I knew. I knew even before she looked at the midwife and shook her head.

I don't like to think about the next few hours, and days, and weeks. But today, I can't help it. I'm not ready yet to talk about all that came next. Not even with those closest to me. Perhaps I may never be, and that's a new sensation for me. I do know that I wish there weren't so many women who could understand how I feel. I also know that everyone's story, everyone's pain, is different and unique. Mine is becoming part of who I am. Someday I hope the grief and loss won't burn quite so fierce and deep. Someday I hope to be able to tell the rest of this story. For now, I'll survive and hold on until it passes. It's the best any of us can do some days.

Project of the Week: Piano Recital

My goal was to finish a project this week. In my head, that meant a craft, or a decoration, or a gift. But, it turned out that my project this week was my piano recital.

AND IT'S DONE!!

The kids played their songs, we teachers muddled through ours, and it was a great success. Zippy even played for the very first time! Unfortunately, because my stress was running so high, I forgot the camera. So no pictures of Zippy's first recital. But he did great! He announced his piece in a clear, loud voice. And he even pronounced Good King Wenceslas correctly! YEAH!!!!!

I'm terribly proud of him, and so very glad I don't have to hear that song every day now. I'm calling this a big project well done for the week.

People I Love: AmyO

What can I say about my dear friend AmyO?

First, I have her to thank for the beautiful background and header for my blog.

Second, no one commands attention when standing on an chair quite like her.

But really, there's too much to say and not nearly enough of the right words.

Amy, I love your determination, your spunk, your sense of humor (which is just as twisted as my own), your honest and sincere love of those in your life.

My life would not be as rich or as happy as it is right now without you. I owe you a great deal of my sanity over the past few years. I'm proud to call you friend.

Happy Birthday Amy--sometime soon anyway ;) I love you!

P.S. If anyone else has more pictures of dearest Amy, send them my way. Somehow she always seesm to be behind the camera!

Le Sigh

I'm in love. Totally, completely, shamelessly in love.

www.modcloth.com


Does someone now want to give me lots of money so I can indulge in my new love?