NaNoWriMo Recap

        It started as just a camaraderie thing.  I knew there were several writer friends doing NaNoWriMo and i; e always wanted to write a novel so why not do it in a month?  I'm crazy like that, right?
       Plus, I was spurred on by the adrenaline from the Boston Book Festival.  So, I figured I'd participate, get some words on the page which is notoriously difficult.

         I didn't take it very seriously at first, I didn't jealously fight for my writing time.  I wasn't willing to get up early.  At first, it was just a jumble of moments, no real order or plan but they were all moments that mattered to me. 
          They were all part of my story .  I began to realize in a new way how skewed my relationship with God has been, how much I have not changed since I was a child, how much I refuse to change.  How deep the wounds and brokenness go.  As I'd write I'd wonder, "Has there ever been anyone so messed up as me?  Making deals with God and bargaining a way to avoid my pain."  Then I'd reply (to myself) "SO many, I know, all of us, broken and bruised….human after all.  Only human and him all knowing but how can we ever heal?  How can we ever change?  How can my story be any more than just a mess of mixed up doctrines and false assumptions."
         I decided to start taking things a little more seriously and realized that I love writing at the Library.  I feel so inspired and though the books do distract me for a while, once I set down to work things go much more smoothly, efficiently.  I also notice I don’t watch music videos at the library.  I just listen to instrumental music and focus on the writing.  Sometimes I only put one headphone in so I can be aware of my surroundings.  Music videos seem inappropriate at the library and I suppose they are addicting and distracting even at home. 
     Trying to find the right music added to my guilt over falling behind on my word count.  First, it was wine and then scandalous pop song videos.  But it was also what I was writing.  I felt a guilt that was heavy and demanded healing when I wrote about my ex boyfriend, when I relived sweet moments together, re-imagining them with rose colored glasses but the process also forced me to confront why we didn’t end up together.  It wasn’t just that he smoked weed and drank or didn’t care about women’s rights. A cynic could accuse my husband of those things as well (albeit in the past.)  No, it was that this boy I loved at first,  did not love God more than he loved me.  And to write it off as anything else would be dishonest. 
          And I began to take writing more seriously, I began to take the themes and questions I was wrestling with and weave them into a fictional quilt filled with very true moments.  But then fatigue set in. Each word was like a slow crawl to the finish.  I  could not seem to get my words down and the words I did get down felt cliche and ambling.  I was  annoyed at myself but refused to give up.  I had written so much already; probably more than in the past two years combined or at least equal to it.  There was already so much to edit and to play with.  I think that will be the fun part.  If only I could figure out what music to listen to. 
       Before I could believe it, it was already the last day.  The very last write in on the last day.  I had 5,000 words left to write and so little energy.  The leader of my writing group put these two pins in front of me and told me to choose.  I could continue this story next year or next month or I could finish it in the next 3 hours.  I began to write feverishly.  I wrote and I wrote.  I set my timer and every half hour I'd give myself a cookie...literally.  I tried extending scenes that felt short and adding description where it was lacking.  I was scrambling. 
     Then, at 11:43 with 22 minutes left of the month I finished.  I would not say it is a truly complete novel.  But it is a love story that I am proud of.  It is more than a start it has a beginning, middle and end.  I can't believe how long it took and how hard it was and yet how worth it.  I felt like a winner and when people ask me what I've won, I show them the pin.  Because really that is enough, more than enough. 
        I gave myself  a whole week off.  But part of me doesn't want to lose momentum.  I want to keep "writing like my pen is on fire."  So, I think I will.  I think I will always write.  It is part of me. 

Going Home: Our love story and the CDP Nuevo

Ok, so far, in this love story, David and I met, I confessed my feelings for him and we started dating.  Although this felt like my whole life, in reality it was really only a few months.  It was right around thanksgiving when David invited me to come home with him.  

I was the first girl that David ever brought home. 

He’d obviously dated other people but he’d never brought them to meet his mom and see his land.  

I was determined not to ruin it.  Although I knew this would be a little tricky since David had mentioned his mom had cats, like around 20 of them, and I was horribly allergic.  Of course, not ruining things required me to act like having 20 cats is totally a normal everyday thing I was used to, not a threat to my ability to breathe.  

Before we left Santa Barbara we had breakfast with his sister Kalli and her husband.  They prayed for our trip to Nuevo...after which I was like, “Where is Nuevo?  I thought you lived in Riverside?”  I had a lot to learn.

Come to find out Nuevo is the name of the CDP (Census Designated Place) they lived (it’s not technically even a town...no police...no city hall...just land, land and more land) in Riverside county.  It’s population and it’s total acreage both hover around the 4,000 mark.  David’s family making up a good portion of the population and owning the majority of the land.  

No place on earth smells like Nuevo, CA with the pungent smell diary farm manure and the rich earthy alfalfa, sod and sundry other crops covering the land.   It is completely wide open, I kind of gasped when we made it through the mountains and looked down on the expanse below.  It was brown, baked in the sun with little hints of green olive trees lining the main ways.  I felt out of sorts without the green refuge of trees I was so used to.  

The streets were mostly unpaved and I was happy to be bumping along in David’s cherry red F150 rather than my hand-me-down minivan.  It was obvious from the moment the land came into view that David loved it.  He pointed out landmarks and places he and his dad had farmed, fished, hiked.  His shoulders relaxed; he was clearly at home.    

As we pulled into a dirt driveway I fell in love with the place. It totally harkened back to my early 1990s obsession with the movie Overboard (with Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell.)  The rusted out cars in the driveway, the enormous springs and tractor parts strewn about the backyard bore put me at ease.  

I noticed 3 more things as David escorted me inside.  #1. The oven was held closed with two shoestrings that seemed to be slightly singed.  #2.  David’s mom was even more gorgeous than he had told me with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes. She looked more like his older sister than his mom.  #3.  The “shower” was in truth just a over-oxidized pipe sticking out of the bathroom wall.  

As we took the tour of the house, I saw the cats.  It was hard to keep count because David’s mom only took in black and white cats.  Or rather she took in a cat named, “Fat Cat Moo Cow” who’d  sired most of the rest. 

As much as I despised the cat’s hair I was impressed by the way David and his family cared for animals.    Their compassion knew no bounds, it extended to humans and ran over onto every living creature God made.

The next morning we went to Beverly Ann’s donuts which had been bought out by a chinese restaurant but still sold donuts.  Much to my chagrin, Fat Cat Moo Cow and his brood seemed to have reign even over the tiny shopping complex down the road.   By the time we left.  My nose was completely plugged up.  My throat was a straw sized passage that I wheezed through and my eyes were hard to keep open both because of the constant watering and the extreme puffiness.  But I was happy, I’d completed phase 1. His mom’s house, now it was on to Hemet and the rest of the family.  

More of our love story

Ok, reviewing the “love story” posts I’ve written for the blog I realized that I missed a pretty crucial part of our relationship...right in between when I found out David’s name and when I left for the East Coast.  

Someone told me once that the song “Ironic” was misnamed and really all the frustration Alanis Morsette spends 4 minutes 6 seconds outlining are really just “unfortunate” events not ironic.  As an English teacher I have to disagree.  There is some amount of dramatic irony in a man overcoming his Pteromerhanophobia (fear of flying) only to die in a plane crash.  Although I admit that the irony of finding a black fly in my chardonney still eludes me.  In any case, the tragedy that struck David Lauda only weeks after I met him makes the misfortunes of Ms. Morsette look like mere annoyances.

Probably a month after I first laid eyes on David our church held baptisms.  Now, the church connotes a whole host of images, from cathedrals to big tent revivals.  Let me assure you that whatever you are picturing is not what our church was like.  We met in homes, on the beach, in a theater, wherever people let us really.  We were a band of college kids and young adults on fire for Jesus.  We’d worship anywhere and everywhere.  So, these particular baptisms were held in a friend’s backyard in his hot tub, which was exactly as awkward as it sounds.  

The first thing that amazed me was how many people wanted to baptized.  We held baptisms every season and each time there would be 5-10 people whose lives had been completely turned upside down by their new faith.  The second thing that amazed me was that David chose to wear tie dyed zebra print short shorts and what James refers to as a “hoop ball hat” (aka a sweatband).  I’m not sure if anyone had told him that this was not traditional baptismal attire but he stood up there without a care in the world.  

Oh yeah, those are the shorts..yikers:)

Finally, it came time for the people getting baptized to give their testimony.  People had a variety of long (really long in some cases) stories chronicling how they had made this decision.  Then the pastor called David up.  He asked David for his testimony.  David looked out over the crowd, “My testimony?” he asked.  I waited with baited breath because I heard that he had a very dramatic conversion.  “My testimony is that I am a terrible sinner but Christ died for my sins.”  Boom.  Just. Like. That.  #Truth (although this was like 15 years before hash tags).  

After the service was over I somehow I finagled a way to get a ride back to school with him.  On that 40 minute drive he talked more than I have ever heard him speak at one time.  He told me all about his faith and his family.  He told me that since becoming a Christian he had forgiven his dad and was back in contact with him.  In fact, his dad was getting released from prison in only a few months.  He was super excited because he and his dad had been inseparable before the 10 year sentence came down.    

I got back to school and I got caught back up in school...obsessing about making B+s into As.  I didn’t forget about David, in fact every time I saw him I felt more and more amazed and taken with him.  But we didn’t get a chance to talk.  Until I was talking with a friend, weeks, maybe a month later.  “Did you hear about David Lauda’s dad?”  she asked.  “No,” I answered hoping that maybe his release date had been moved up and I could meet the man, the myth and the legend Jim Lauda.  

“He died this week,” she announced.  And I felt sick to my stomach.  Just before getting released?  It couldn’t be true, she couldn’t know this.  But when I saw David later that night I knew it was true.  I didn’t know what to say or do.  We were all acting like he had the plague...too awkward to ask about it, too big a deal to not ask about it.  I finally ended up talking to his sister and he came over.  I held my breath. “You know what song   I have stuck in my head?” she asked him.    “Don’t pull on superman’s cape, Don’t spit into the wind and you don’t mess around with Jim.”   Kalli quoted.  David laughed. 

It took days, weeks, years to piece together Jim’s death.  He died fighting wild fires in Northern California (Inmates on good behavior can volunteer to do that in emergencies).  I wasn’t close enough to go to the funeral.  But I was at the spreading of his ashes the next summer.  We built an ebenezer of stones up at Lake Shasta so as never to forget him.  5 years after that our first son was born... James, after Jim.  

But back then, back when the grief was so fresh and raw, I could only marvel at David’s courage and faith.  Two qualities that only those who've lost loved ones can understand.  They are what held us together that long summer and our first year of dating.   They are what hold us together still.  

Guest Blogger: My 20 year old self

I found this old journal stuffed in a cabinet full of my journals and planners and notebooks and stumbled upon the following entry.  It is a good next installment of “the love story” but it is totally in my 19 year old diary dialect.  I was tempted to edit it to make myself sound smarter and less superficial but then I thought, “No, let’s keep it real.” So here it is.  A real entry from September 30th, 2004 which was right after I had returned to California.

“Today is definitely a red letter day [written in red ink].  I want to remember everything about it... I was feeling so down today and so discouraged and just not good enough.  But it ended so well, so unexpected.  I want to remember every turn of events, every shock and thrill. [It’s killing me not to edit out my overkill of the word “so”]  

So, David came over tonight; drove all the way out here and I hardly had time for anything.  I had to run and talk to Colleen but then I ended up canceling which I should have done earlier but I did it last second which is such a bad habit of mine.  I was really really upset with myself and just the situation so when David and I sat down to talk I told him, ‘If you are a friend...just a friend...why do I act like it’s more...why am I shifting my whole schedule when you are only a friend?’  I was so sad, I could hardly talk. 

We got up ‘cause I was gonna let him down, I was gonna let it go and hang out with Colleen which I felt was better anyways.  I felt bad though because I was so sad and he didn’t want me to be, so I tried to be cheerful and I asked him about his mom ‘cause he is going home for the weekend.  He said he didn’t want to talk about his mom.  He said he wanted me to be his girlfriend.  My jaw dropped literally it was hanging open.  I was SOOO stunned.  I couldn’t believe it was for real.  He’d never looked so attractive to me.  I started thinking of things like crazy, I thought, ‘Can we dance together?  Pray together?  Hold hands?!’  [I’m cracking up as I type the holding hands comment.]  

I was too stunned to speak though.  I’ve liked him for SOOO long!  I think I love him..’Yes, or no?’  he asked.  ‘Of course!!!!!’ I screamed.  I hugged him so long I almost fell over.  Then he gave me a promise ring.  It’s the same ring my grandfather gave me when he died and that I lost 3 years ago but then saw at Melissa’s jewelry shop last week...I have to tell Lalo this!!

                He said he promised to, ‘be faithful to me, never lie to me, and not try and get in my pants.’ [Ok, now I am seriously laughing so hard I can’t take it].  Is this true love?  I never want to take him for granted.  How did he learn to be so sweet?  I have to call my mom and my sister...how am I gonna do school tomorrow?  Thank you God for tonight.”  

Our first selfie...on like a 3 pound Cannon camera

  So that’s it, that’s how he asked me out, in my own words the day it happened.  It’s funny to look back 11 years at myself and my husband.  Turns out it was true love though I admit there are days I take him for granted.  The good news is that he forgives me and I love him even more today than I did back then.

The Man who Collects Hugs n' Bugs

Part Three .....

The pause after my confession of love knocked the wind out of me.  I grabbed onto the crazy quilt on my bed steadying myself for whatever may come.  I caught a glimpse of myself making ridiculous, “You are killing me!” faces in the mirror.  

“ Well..... That’s good because I like you too.”  I could hear him smile.  I mean not literally but he has this amazing voice that can pull emotions up onto your face.  

I think it was my eye for high fashion that won him over:)

Those words were like a shot of caffeine straight to my bloodstream.  I fell back into my pillow miming a scream of delight and disbelief to an imaginary audience. I wanted to hear more, more about how he felt, about us, about why he went on a date with another girl.  But I let it go.  It was 3 am after all and I was supposed to wake up in 2 hours to run the camp, well co-lead it, thank God.  I just smiled right back into the phone.  

“Well, that is good.” I replied  

The goodbye exchange after that was awkward no denying it.  Neither of us was really ready to sign off with “I love you” yet.  Okay I probably was, but it would have been a tad premature. So we stammered one million, “okay talk to you soon”s, “have a good night”, “yah, call me tomorrow”, “okay great”, “yup,”  ..and so on until hanging up was inevitable.  

And for the rest of the summer we returned to our respective summertime activities... I, to making lists in my parent's basement (see above.) And he to collecting Hugs N' Bugs on the houseboat (see below).  We talked every night until we fell asleep.  Little did I know, the best  was yet to come.  

The man, the myth, the legend 

My Confession of Love

(Letter to my roommate continued)

...I got a call on my very new and bulky cell phone the day after I got home to the East Coast.  I listened to it so many times that I remember the exact wording, “Hey, it’s yo boy Dave Lauda..I’m just callin’ to say hey and see if you got home okay. Call me back, aight?”  It took about two hours for my adrenaline to subside enough for me to call him back.  It was his twenty- first birthday and he had called me...me!  Just to talk.

I called him again the next day, and he called me the day after that.  I was so excited to tell you and Liz all about it when you came to visit in July.  That was an awesome trip.  I loved visiting New York and Boston, staying up late talking.  I was dumbstruck when Liz told me he had been our friend’s date to her work party the week before you guys came out.  What? I knew it was too good to be true.  There was no way he would even consider dating me, I was, as usual, the friend, and I was sure he was going to tell me all about him and this other girl and have me counsel him through it.  It seemed my lot in life.  I wasn’t going to take it this time though.  No, I couldn’t fake it with him and pretend that I wanted him and her to live happily ever after, no matter how perfect they both were.  

A few days after you and Liz flew back to Colorado he called me. I think we were talking about how his roommate Ryan had stolen his towel and how he’d had it with communal living in the ministry houses.  I was listening but my mind was not engaged, I just kept thinking about how we could be so close and he just goes out with another girl and doesn’t even mention it.  The whole conversation I kept waiting for it to come up, but now he said he was at Osh and he had to go. I made up my mind to call him back.  This is pretty much how it went, “Okay, so I know this will probably ruin our friendship and make things super awkward between us, but I hope not.  I know how much you value honesty in people, so I feel like I better just stop beating around the bush and get to it.  You see, well, I am so happy to be your friend but since the day I met you I’ve liked you and wanted to go out with you.  So, I just figured I should put that out there so down the road you aren’t like, ‘Hey, I had no idea you had ulterior motives,’ and stuff, so yeah, talking to you has been the highlight of my summer but I guess being real and honest is more important than me getting to hear your voice everyday...so yeah...”

Silence...

Love Story

So, I have been working on writing about how my husband and I met...and then against all odds got married:)  I've been chipping away at it for about two weeks and then today, in a desperate search for something to post I found this piece that I wrote to my roommate about 8 years ago, in order to remember the story I am now trying to write.  It is so funny to delve into old photos, letters, and journals.  I could have never imagined myself where I am now, so truly and deeply happy.

Dear Roomie (Kind of embarrassed that I still call you that),

        So, I trust you remember the very beginning…the part when we met David Lauda, the most amazing looking guy I had ever laid eyes on. We were working on making those reception snails, when I still didn’t know his name and when you had to drag me over to talk to him.  Fortunately I found out his name before we went bowling…I’m still laughing about our crazy costumes, those stinking basket ball jerseys we borrowed from the rugby guys. I still am embarrassed by how badly I bowled and how David told the security guard he was “Twenty?” I thought he was lying for sure, he didn't look a day over 17.   Hmm…so that’s the start.  

        Even that fabulous night  hardly scratched the surface of getting to know David.  The day he was baptized I stayed late at church.  He made me laugh at his simple humility and crazy sense of humour.  I was struck by his straightforward faith and the way he opened up to me as we drove with Katie Anderson back to Westmont.  That was when his dad was still alive, and coming home in only a month or two.

     Then you left and Mayterm began.  That’s when I first became friends with Mina. She guessed my secret crush of David right off the bat.  I guess it wasn't that much of a secret. I was super grateful that she would always give me rides to the house to hang out.  She loved to tease me about how awkward I’d get.   I finally admitted to Val, that I tried avoided David because I felt so awkward.  She promply signed me up to do Sunday school with him.

Then Nate died.  I was in art class when Kirsten told me.  I came home and called Chase then I went for a run…I ran so long I got sick..you know how that happens to me.  I almost didn’t go to Reality I felt so bad but I mustered all my strength and made it to Calvary Chapel just in time to rush to the bathroom for another bout of sickness.  I came out and sat myself in the back of the room, I hardly noticed when David came late and sat down next to me.  After the singing and service we joked about his imaginary compassion child and I realized I was no longer feeling sick.  Kelly came rushing over trying to organize a hike to seven falls.  When David said, "Sure." I looked at him in disbelief.  “You like to hike?” I questioned.  “But I thought you were from the ghetto.”  He assured me that he really did like to hike.  And that was the end of that.  The next day I got a call asking if we should get together and plan Sunday school.  I was catering for an art opening and I called back later apologizing for stereotyping him as a thug and not a nature lover and saying maybe we could hang out at Liz’s.

And so it began, Sunday School, hiking, talking on the phone and perhaps most importantly sitting on the DP wall, talking.  I remember writing in my journal one night, “ I finally found someone who can out story tell me”  David’s stories captured my imagination and my heart.  I was amazed at the humor and bravery of his childhood. But I was so scared to care too much.  I wrote for and against my feeling, battling in my mind a war waged in my journal over whether or not caring about him was wise.  I convinced myself that after he and Liz dropped me off at LAX that would be the end.  I would spend the summer enthralled in camp and preparing for PC.  When I hugged him goodbye, I thought that was as close as we’d ever get…

Wow, we were soooo young