I don’t have a lot of time to post today, but for the record, I spent most of the weekend procrastinating. It was a good kind of procrastination, though. I went back to my classical music roots, listened to tons of violin music and discovered some fabulous violin music that has captivated and inspired me. Did anyone watch the figure skating gala (exhibition performances) of the Olympics? If so, then I’m talking about the man who played violin on the ice while Plushenko (not sure if that’s the correct spelling) performed. His name is Edvin Marton and he makes a Strad sing in a way I’ve never heard before. If I get the chance, I’ll put some clips in my music player at my sidebar.

But, since I need to run and pick up my son from Pre-K, I’ll leave you with a copy of an article I wrote a while back. It was posted on the blog at Romance Divas back in December, but given my newfound inspiration (and my fervent wish that if only I had practiced my violin more I might have actually accomplished something) I’m going to post it below.

Practice Makes Perfect

“Practice makes perfect.”

I can still hear my violin instructor drumming that old adage into my head as he circles the small podium where I stand, losing the battle with a particular passage of dreaded double-stops. And if I close my eyes, I can smell the distinct chalk-like scent of rosin, feel the fine grooves of the strings beneath my fingers, and recall the heady sensation of sound reverberating through the belly of the violin.

I have a passion for music that has not dimmed over time. Yet, I will never play a concerto before thousands of onlookers at Orchestra Hall. Why? Because, although the violin is one of the great loves of my life, I didn’t set aside enough time for practice.

Today, I looked at my beloved violin, sitting so neglected in the corner of my bedroom, and a wave of nostalgia swept over me. I opened the case, and after all this time, the sweet chalky smell hit me as if I’d rosined my bow only yesterday. I ran my fingers over the burgundy crushed velvet interior and lifted the violin from its safe haven. The strings were all hopelessly out of tune until I took the pegs in hand and tightened them.

And then I took out my old sheet music and played. I played until I lost track of time. When I was done, the muscles in my fingers were sore, my shoulder and neck were stiff, and tiny, dark indentations marred my fingertips where the strings had cut into them. But it was as if I’d found a missing piece of my heart.

“Practice makes perfect,” my violin seemed to whisper to me on some ghostly bittersweet chord.

I gained a new, important understanding of those three tiny words, not just in reference to music, but all aspects of my life — and particularly, my writing.

How can I expect to stand before readers with my published book in my outstretched hands if I don’t contribute a significant amount of time to writing, re-writing and, in essence, perfecting the art of words?

It’s simple. I can’t. All I can ever hope to do is dust off those beloved stories once in a while, and revisit them as if they were forgotten friends, when in truth, they had the opportunity to be so much more. If only I’d practiced.

“Practice makes perfect.” Three little words with such powerful potential.

What will you do with them?

* * *
Okay, I was able to get 3 clips uploaded….click on one and give it a listen.

My son had a field trip yesterday with his first grade class. They went to the bowling alley. Talk about an interesting, chaotic, experience….hundreds of 6 & 7 year olds hurtling bowling balls at little pins. Yikes!

The parent helpers each took 5/6 children and supervised them. Of course, I somehow ended up with the rowdy bunch who would not sit still (along with the one child who ‘wandered’ off by the video games and ended up getting a sound reprimand from the teacher once I caught up with him).

I had to laugh at all the different approaches to getting that ball down the lane. We had the thinkers, the one’s who would take their time before they sent the ball down the lane, then there was the impulsive one who wouldn’t wait until the pins were reset and ended up slamming their ball into the metal rails until I began physically holding him back until the lane was clear, and lastly, we had the ‘throwers’ versus the ‘rollers’ who whipped the ball down the lane at waist height instead of rolling it along the floor.

My son ended with the highest score in our group: a 73 (at the 7th frame–when we ran out of time). I was a proud momma. :) Even my 5-year-old did pretty good. He had this whole technique going–he’d take the ball to the lane, set it down, spin it around in circles with both his hands and then shove it down the lane. And then, when he’d hit a pin, he’d turn around, put his hands to his mouth and blow kisses at us while bowing. Yes, he has quite the dramatic flair. It was hilarious to watch.

So, my question for the day–what kind of writer are you? Are you the thinker/analyzer who has to setup your story before you jump into it, the impulsive writer who jumps in without knowing little more than the name of a character (and ends up slamming against the rail), or the ‘thrower’ who bounces along on the writing path, hoping the more forceful you are the better your chance at hitting a strike?

Does that make any sense at all? I didn’t think so.

Yes, I’m procrastinating when I should be working on Chapter 5 of my WIP … but with good reason. I’m doing some research on the Grand Canyon.

Meanie that I am, I’m sending my hero and heroine down into the canyon, and although I’ve been to the Grand Canyon, it’s been several years since that trip and we never had the opportunity to hike down to the canyon floor. Which was fine with me, since I had enough excitement when my idiot husband decided to waltz out to the tip of a rock jutting over the rim of the canyon and ask me to take his picture. I’m surprised I even managed it, my heart was pounding so loudly and I felt physically sick. I’d post the picture for you all, but it was pre-digital, so I’ll I have to see if I can scrounge it up from our boxes of photos.

So, here are some interesting facts for you. It takes between 4-6 hours to hike the South Kaibab trail to the canyon floor/Colorado river. And that hike down has an elevation loss of about 4360 ft. There’s a cool suspension bridge that stretches 440 feet across the Coloardo and looks a mite bit scary from the pictures I’ve managed to dig up.

Oh, and they don’t recommend you hike all the way down and back up in one day. Which poses a slight problem for my characters, since I assumed they would hike down and back up in the same day. So, now I’m faced with the possibility of having them spend the night down in the Grand Canyon, or press the boundaries of believability by having them hike down and back in one ‘loop’.

Would a frantic mother want to waste another day/night by waiting until morning to hike out of the Canyon? And what the heck would uncommunicative Keith and distraught Grace do during that time?

I’m sure you all would have some good ideas for me, ;), but I can assure you, they’re not ready for that just yet.

Okay, this post will probably turn into a rant. But, gosh, darn it, I’m so fed up with this, that I can’t help it!

We’ve owned some property outside of town (about 8 miles) for several years now with the intent to build our ‘dream’ home on it. Well, due to lots ‘o crap that we’ve been dealing with our dream was put on hold and in the meantime, several houses have been built around our lot. Which isn’t a problem. We’re not anti-people or anything.

However, we are anti-crappy-nasty-backbiting neighbors! But, you guessed it, that’s the kind we ended up with. Apparently, we’ve managed to land ourselves smack dab in the middle of three older men who stay at home all day and gossip about “those deadbeat people who have *gasp* building material on their lot (or as they call it junk) along with an unfinished stem wall” while their wives go to work. Not only that, but they are snoops who come onto our lot (when we are not there) and ‘file away’ their list of grievances to pull out and aggravate us with at a later date.

Now, we’re receiving nasty email conversations. Give me a break, people! Find something else to do and mind your own business. We’ve done nothing except fight for every step forward (and end up two steps back).

But, you know the worst of it? All this is ruining the fun of planning our home. It’s making it stressful, and irritating, and like we don’t even want to live there even though we’ve spent years building our dreams around that property.

Hey, anyone know of vacant land for sale in Mr. Roger’s neighborhood? If you do, let me know. I’m there!

Karen tagged me — so here goes. :)

Currently…

current clothing: Jeans, long sleeve pink shirt, light blue fleece pullover (’cause I’m cold), white socks with red/white/green slipper socks over them (’cause, yep, I’m cold. LOL). Geez, I feel like the Queen of Mismatch!

current hair: Shoulder length, dark brown with a little of last year’s highlights still visible

current mood: happy/bored

current refreshment: None, though hot chocolate’s looking pretty good right about now

current annoyance: The state of disaster known as my home

current avoidance: Unfortunately, same as above.

current smell: Cinammon Rolls….what I wouldn’t give for a warm, gooey, cinammon roll…

current thing you ought to be doing: Working on the WIP

current thing or things on your wall: Calendar, family photos, my boys’ artwork

current IM/person you’re talking to: No one. I’m not a big IM’er

current jewelry: Wedding Ring

current book: I Just finished Marliss Melton’s Time to Run. It was great. My favorite in her series so far.

current worry: Nothing, really.

current favorite celebrity: I’m not a big ‘celebrity watcher’.

current obsession: Books (as always), Music (as always)–specifically Gary Allan and Brad Paisley

current love: My family. Okay, so they’re an ‘always love’, but they’re in the forefront of my mind right now.

current longing: My house. I want my house to be done so I can move in and have ‘real’ space, a great kitchen, and a soothing bathroom with a Jacuzzi tub.

current disappointment: My house. It’s not done. :(

current lyric in your head: No, life ain’t always beautiful, but I know I’ll be fine, Hey, life ain’t always beautiful, but it’s a beautiful ride.

current music: Gary Allan (see above)

current favorite book: Favorite book of all time: Perfect by Judith McNaught and Knight in Shining Armor by Jude Deveraux. Okay! So, I didn’t pick just one!

current favorite movie: The Wedding Singer. It always makes me laugh and lifts my spirit.

current wish: For my children to have the happiest childhood possible

current happy thing: Music, memories, and hugs from my boys

current undergarments: Just the standard, nothing fancy *g*

current desktop picture: A picture of my boys from last summer at Knott’s Berry Farm

current plans for tonight/weekend: Snuggles with my husband while we channel surf for something to watch on T.V.

So what are you currently doing?

There’s nothing more heartbreaking for me, as a parent, to watch my youngest son (he’s five) struggle to fit in with his classmates. He’s just not like them. Never has been, never will be. He tends to play on a different level, and frankly, I think they look at him as if he’s from an alien world.

And don’t even get me started on the three boys in his class who have told him “they are not his friend” and how much this bothers him even though I’ve repeatedly told him that boys like that are not worth having as a friend in the first place.

And then, there’s the emotional outbursts that he’s had from day one at Preschool. At times, they seem to get better, until he has a complete meltdown. The thought of him in Kindergarten next year terrifies me.

BUT, this week we’ve made a revelation. I had a chat with his teacher who showed me his evaluation and told me that she’s been doing some research on his behavior. You see, he’s incredibly intelligent, but his social skills leave much to be desired. She thinks he may have Asperger’s syndrome and suggested he get screened (which I’ve made an appointment for).

Reading up on Asperger’s syndrome I’ve found that these children usually have extremely high intelligence, yet low social intelligence. High Functioning Asperger’s (HFA) is most likely where my son would fit in. Here’s what one website has to say about HFA:

Asperger’s Syndrome (or Disorder) is a pattern of behavior in which the child has average, even extraordinary intelligence, but is significantly lacking in what we now call “social intelligence.”

This seemingly paradoxical combination of a well-functioning intellect in the presence of a poor “social intellect,” has, in the past, made diagnosis confusing. To make matters worse, children with Aspergers Syndrome are more different from one another, than they are alike, with differing areas of difficulty, as well. The result was and at times, remains, misdiagnoses, based on elements of behavior that could fit into any number of other Disorders such as Pervasive Developmental Disorder (Not otherwise specified), ADD, ADHD, Bipolar Disorder, Semantic Pragmatic Language Disorder (SILD) OCD, and more.

Because of their anxiety in social situations they have difficulty reading and integrating these social cues and thus misinterpret literal and implied meanings. Dealing with puns, metaphors, creativity and symbolic meaning uses holistic processing. They don’t seem to “get it “ socially. The rules of social interaction seem a mystery to them.

By contrast, sequential thinking is logical, deals with the coding and decoding of meaning in terms of the relationship of elements within a sequence. HFA’s are more comfortable and skilled in this area. This is the reason they may be academically successful and have superior skills in one of their special interest areas.

Although we won’t know for sure until we get him screened, this sounds a lot like my son. And I’m hoping if this is the case, having a ‘diagnosis’ will get him the help he needs when he starts Kindergarten instead of having him labeled as a behavior problem, and him slipping through the cracks of the system because school will frustrate him.

I do worry about him though. He is a very special boy, and I don’t want his frustration and his inability to communicate his feelings as well as he should, drive all that unique spark out of him. I forsee a lot of extra hugs and snuggles in his future.

And, hey, Einstein and Newton were both thought to be HFA. So, at least my son will be in good company. ;)

I’ve been thinking this weekend, and I’ve decided that I really need a self-imposed deadline. I’ve been procrastinating. Again. Which doesn’t come as any surprise, but lately I’ve had this voice whispering in my head, telling me this story will not get written if I don’t sit my butt in the chair and write it.

So, here’s my deadline: I want to have HER OWN BEST ENEMY completed (though not necessarily polished for submission) by April 1st.

Which means that I’ll need all of you to give me periodic kicks in the rear so that I keep on track. Aren’t you looking forward to that? ;)

If I’d ever been in any doubt that my firstborn son (he’s 6 1/2 now) has an extremely tender heart, those doubts have been laid to rest after last night.

I checked out “March of the Penguins” from the library because my son loves all things wildlife, especially dolphins, sharks, whales, and the rest of the aquatic animal species. So, we’re watching this movie, which by the way is extremely interesting and I’d recommend it to anyone, and it’s showing how penguins walk hundreds of miles every year to basically find a mate and have babies. It also showed how because of the extreme cold sometimes the eggs don’t survive, and many times, even once the babies hatch from their eggs, they have a fight for survival.

Well, at one point, there’s a mother penguin touching her baby with her beak, only it’s not moving, because it froze to death. I look over at my son, and he’s swiping his shirt across his eyes. I ask him if he’s crying, and suddenly, he burst into these horrible sobs. It was so sad! I had to distract him, until something happier (like baby penguins waddling around the ice) came on and he calmed down.

I have a feeling his heart is going to bruise very easily as he grows older.