Embraceable You

Yeah, you.  Change, that is.

Here's the thing about change.  It happens whether you're looking for it or not.  Most people I know feel very strongly about it, one way or the other.  They either HATE it, or embrace it fully.  Funny thing though, even the ones who hate it, the folks who fight it all the way (you know who you are), realize (once they're through it) that it's not such a bad thing, after all.  Good things can come from change.

Take my brother, for example, the die-hard PC guy.  He scoffed at my Apple loving until one day, out of the blue, he was given a MacBook Air to use for work.  Now? He's got an iPhone 5 and an iPad mini.  Yeah, he changed.  And he loves it!

Or my mom, who finally - FINALLY - got herself wireless internet service (yeah, I know...) and can not fathom how she lived without it (or that MacBook Air she inherited from the aforementioned brother).

I've watched several friends go through tough times over the past few years, not wanting to deal with the change that fate was handing them.  And now they can't imagine life any other way.  They're actually grateful for the changes.

I am an embracer of change.  There are things that I'm tied to - my workouts for example - but I also am always open to trying new things.  It's not so much that I must have boot camp, I just must have exercise, I must stay fit and feel healthy and strong.  Any way I can make that happen makes me happy (okay, so Shark Fitness boot camp is still my favorite, sue me).

This year, I'm embracing more change.  I'm working on a revamp of my freelance business... a new name, new logo and (finally) a website (bethmwood.com) to showcase my work.  I'm also working on a few feature articles for larger market magazines.

The excitement of what's around the next bend keeps me going.  Kids seem to embrace change more easily than adults.  But maybe that's because they are constantly changing - it's part of their growth.

To wit: The other night, I opened up my middle son's backpack and found a mess.  About twenty crumpled sheets of looseleaf were stuffed inside, around folders with dog-earred corners, empty candy wrappers, broken pencils, and pens with the caps missing.  I smoothed out each page and had him go through them with me to make sure he didn't still need any of them for school.  I guarantee there were a few missing assignments in there (like that homework page he swore the teacher never gave him).

Last night, my oldest was pulling out a folder from his backpack to work on some homework.  I couldn't help but notice all the looseleaf pages inside were perfectly straight and organized.  I looked at him and said, "Remember a few years ago, when you were in 7th grade? Your backpack looked exactly like your brother's."  He just smiled.  See? There's hope for Jack yet!

Change is good.  Stepping out of your comfort zone is good, too, as it invites change.  The aforementioned lovable, yet disorganized Jack put a band together a few weeks ago to try out for his school's talent show.  Four 13 year-old boys played "Dream On" for four judges.  Thirty three acts tried out.  His was one of the 15 that made it.  I'm so proud of his fearlessness, his desire to try new things.

I took a page from his book, and sent in my first fiction story to a short story competition.  It may get cut in the first round, but at least I gave it a shot.  It felt good to stretch my creative muscles and try something different.  You never know what doors will open when you give yourself over to change.

Like Sam Cooke sang so beautifully, A Change is Gonna Come.  I can feel it in the brisk, cold air, the blustery wind.  It's invigorating.

 What about you? Are you adverse to change? Or do you embrace it?

Top 10 Ways to Tell You're a Shark

 

It's that time of year again.  The gyms are overflowing with resolution-makers clad in matching outfits with cute logos, perfect ponytails and just the right touch of lipstick and mascara.  They're simultaneously jogging on the treadmill while they watch tv, read a magazine and carry on a conversation with their friend on the next machine without breaking stride.  Some work out.  Ever told your kids that they'll get out of school what they put into it? The same rule applies to your exercise.  

I've been attending Shark Fitness Boot Camp for four years now.  And in honor of the NEW YEAR and the beginning of my 5th year as a Shark, I thought I'd share the 

Top 10 Ways to Tell You're A Shark:

10. You can't wait to begin class because it's too damn cold to stand around any longer.
9. You park in the first available parking space, rather than wait for the ones closest to the door.
8. You no longer drink Margaritas.  Not even on Cinco de Mayo (thanks Keath).
7. At the end of every workout your shirt is drenched and you're exhausted.  And happy.
6. You've heard Beth say a few, choice 4-letter words.
5. You know bananas taste the same coming up.
4. You've heard George say "Best. Set. of Pushups. Ever!"
3. You know the value of being on time.  
2. You know what a 6 year old order of french fries looks like (no different than a 6-second old order of french fries).
And #1. You've invited all your friends and family members to attend a class because "It's so much fun!"

Maybe you can tell that I've been missing my boot camp - and can't WAIT until 0600 on Thursday to get started again! It is my exercise, my stress relief, my "me" time.  I couldn't be more proud to be part of such a fantastic group of people.  We're strong, inside and out.  We never quit.  We have an amazing work ethic that carries over into our personal and professional lives.  And we know what it means to give 100%.  
If any of this sounds intriguing to you, check it out.  I promise that not only will it be worth your while, it may very well change your life.

Happy New Year!  

'Tis the Season (dammit)

If there is one thing I'm betting all single moms can agree on, it's this:

Putting up Christmas lights is one of the most heinous activities of the entire year, let alone Christmas.  Listen, I realize in most dual-parent families that it's the husband/father to whom this task is relegated.  Let me tell you, I feel your pain.  Every year, since 2007, I have been single-handedly decorating my house for Christmas.  And every year I swear my neighbors close their windows, lock their doors and turn the televisions up a little louder.  Because really, who wants to hear the poor, crazy, single mom across the street cussing her brains out as she attempts to hang a few hundred strands off lights?

Mind you, I don't even attempt to hang lights on the house.  God knows, that would be a task straight from hell.  It's bad enough to adorn bushes.  Every year it's the same thing.  I've learned to test the lights, which is good, but inevitably there are a few strands that don't work.  And every year I promise myself I'll do a better job next year: more lights, more merriment, faster, easier, smarter.

So this year, I bought an extra 400 feet of lights.  I have no idea how many I already had.  Oh, and last year I got the bright idea to buy "those easy net lights you just throw over a bush."  Not.  Unless you have midget bushes, they only cover the top third of the damn thing, which makes me look like an incompetent ass.  I may have a bit of a complex, but I refuse to not give my kids a decorated house for Christmas.  And just because I am a chick, doesn't mean that I can't do this.  And do it well.  I'm doing it up right this year if it kills me.

I come home from the store and lay out all the lights.  And remember the cute plastic candy canes that lined the walkway last year.  That was a last-minute desperate purchase to make the half-ass bushes look a little better.  I pull them out of the box to find half of them broken, the stakes torn from the plastic.  Now I remember: last year, on December 26th, I was so ready to get those damn things down, that I gave the first one a yank and they all came flying, leaving mud-caked stakes in the ground.

I spend ten minutes trying to fix the lights and then with a great big four-letter crash, I dump them in the trash.  Enough of that.

I plug in the first outdoor extension cord and begin stringing the lights over the bushes on the front of the house.  I make it around 2 medium-sized bushes by the walkway, then turn the corner to the front of the house and start on the first evergreen tree (okay, bush, but it's very tall).  I run out of lights, grab the next 200 foot strand, plug the male into the female and start on the first of four smaller bushes that run across the landscaping before making it to the matching tall evergreen tree (bush) on the other side.  I get one fourth of the way up that bush... and run out of lights.

This is where I take a very deep breath.  Throw up my hands and stomp away. Funny that on the day I decide to take on this Godforsaken project, it's a balmy 72 degrees.  I am sweating.  Profusely.  I am pissed.  Granted, usually it's 45 degrees and my four-letter words fly out of my chapped laps in a puffy white cloud.  I should be glad.  I'm not.  I need a break.

I move my car and begin sweeping out the garage.  This feels good.  I can do this.  I organize, throw away, sweep and straighten until my garage is fairly clean.

Back to the lights. This time I start on the other side of the garage.  I've got two small bushes and another tree.  There are two "crappy ass net lights" and two 100 foot strands of lights.  Easy-peasy.  I'll connect them to the other extension cord and run that wire over the garage door later (Oh, yeah, that's some foreshadowing...).

I head back to the BS other side of my house and unwrap most of those f'ing lights.  Since I don't have any additional lights, and I'll be Damned if I'm going back to the store, I decide to wrap the lights just around the front of the bushes.  Hell, you can't see the back anyway!  This is what I call "poor decorating."  But hey, don't knock it 'till you've tried it (or you're desperate).  Finally, I'm finished.
Except that now I can't find the other f*ing extension cord.  Luckily, I have a very kind elf who brings me several of these so that I don't have to spend more money.

I get home after work tonight, run my kids to physical therapy, stop to pick up a "lost" phone charger, and make a run to the bank, then stop for carry-out pizza (mom of the year award, here I come!) before finally getting home at 6:45pm.  I eat, announce that it's homework time and head back outside.  All I have to do is plug those lights in on the "easy" side of the garage, and then run that extension cord over the door so that it doesn't catch on the opener, and plug the sucker in.

Twenty minutes later, I've hit my head on a light fixture and taught the neighbor kids a few new "sailor" words before I say, quite loudly, "Screw This," and run the damn cord along the floor of the garage and plug the f*ing thing in.

Done.  Merry &*%^ Christmas!

Author's note:  
I LOVE Christmas, it's just this one task that I despise.  So, what about you?  Is there one thing you hate doing, despite your love of the season?  Go on, share it, it'll make me feel better...

It's Official...

Well, the press release is out.  And low and behold, it looks like I'll be collecting cans and signing copies of Chicken Soup: Finding My Faith, in which one of my stories is published. I'd love for you to stop by The Book House on December 8th, between 4-6pm ... see below for more information.

A shout-out to my fellow WWWPs - Tammy, Linda and Sioux (Sioux - we are going to have so much fun!) who will also be signing copies of the Chicken Soup books in which they are featured, and Lynn, who received a contract from the "50 Shades of Santa" anthology for her story!  I am so proud to be a member of such an amazing, talented group of writers!!

But I digress... here's the press release.  Hope to see you there!

Fourth Annual “Chicken Soup for the Soul, Canned Soup for the Body” Book Signing

Ten local Chicken Soup for the Soul writers will sign books at three independent bookstores in the St. Charles/St. Louis area on Saturday, December 8, 2012. The annual combination book signing and canned food drive has expanded this year from its original venue at Main Street Books in St. Charles to include the other two stores in honor of Chicken Soup for the Soul’s upcoming twenty-year anniversary. Customers may bring in a canned good to be donated to area food pantries and receive 20% off their entire purchase that day. Participating stores and authors are:

10-12 AM, All on the Same Page (Contact: Robin Tidwell, owner)

11052 Olive Blvd., Creve Coeur, MO 314-567-4144 http://www.allonthesamepagebookstore.com/

Nina Miller, former Children's Area Specialist at Borders Creve Coeur, has just finished The Ultimate Storytime Guide, to be published soon by McFarland & Co. This book will offer parents, teachers, booksellers and librarians information on creating a complete story time experience that includes music, art, movement, food and literature.

Theresa Sanders is a frequent Chicken Soup for the Soul contributor, with fifteen stories published by the series. An award-winning technical writer and former manager of a documentation and training department, she is currently completing a novel.

T’Mara Goodsell is an award-winning multi-genre writer who has six stories in Chicken Soup for the Soul books as well as other anthologies and newspapers. More of her writing can be found at http://messageinabloggletheartofbeingbroken.blogspot.com/.

1-3 PM, Main Street Books (Contact: Vicki Erwin, owner)

307 South Main Street, St. Charles, MO 636-949-0105 http://www.mainstreetbooks.net/

Cathi LaMarche is the author of the novel While the Daffodils Danced. Her stories appear in eight Chicken Soup for the Soul books, as well as other anthologies. She currently teaches composition and literature, and she writes in her spare time.

Linda O'Connell has been published in seventeen Chicken Soup for the Soul books and many other anthologies, magazines and books.

Lynn Cahoon is an Alton, IL contemporary romance author with a love of hot, sexy men, real and imagined-ranging from rogue witch hunters to modern cowboys. She blogs at her website (www.lynncahoon.wordpress.com) about writing, lessons learned while surviving breast cancer, and living the dream.

Pat Wahler resides in St. Peters with her husband, dog, and cat. She is a grant writer by day and freelance writer by night and has been published in dozens of local and national venues. A life-long animal lover, Pat ponders critters, writing, and life's little mysteries at www.critteralley.blogspot.com.

4-6 PM, The Book House (Contact: Michelle Barron, owner)

9719 Manchester Rd., St. Louis, MO 314-968-4491 http://www.bookhousestl.com/

Beth M. Wood is a mom of three, marketing VP and freelance writer. She is a devout reader, semi-fanatic editor, and not so great golfer. Follow along at bethmwood.blogspot.com.

First-place winner of the 2012 Erma Bombeck Global Humor Writing Competition, Donna Duly Volkenannt lives in St. Peters with her husband and grandchildren, who inspire her and fill her with joy. Learn more about Donna at http://donnasbookpub.blogspot.com.

Sioux Roslawski is a 3rd grade teacher with the Ferguson-Florissant School District. A freelance writer, she also rescues dogs for Love a Golden Rescue. Her writing can be found at http://siouxspage.blogspot.com.

Since 1993, more than 112 million copies of Chicken Soup for the Soul anthologies have been sold in the United States and Canada alone, with titles translated into more than 40 languages. Chicken Soup for the Soul Publishing, LLC, is a world leader in life improvement. For more information, please visit: www.chickensoup.com.

I've got your back (and your pen)

Last night, I attended a book signing for my friend, Jean Whatley.  She was signing copies of her first (of many, I am sure) book, "Off The Leash."  The event was held at Subterranean Books in the Loop (for those of you out of town, it's a trendy, eclectic neighborhood in St. Louis).

But I digress, I went for two reasons.

One: I wanted to meet Jean.  While I consider her a friend we've never met - not in person anyway.  We met through a writer friend we have in common - Linda O'Connell.  Of the I-write-every-day-and-everything-gets-accepted O'Connell's (okay, I'm kidding, but she's GOOD folks!). And someday, I hope to finish my own novel and stand behind that podium. And maybe, just maybe, Jean will be there to hand me a pen.

Anyway, I arrived just a few minutes late, and walked into a darling little book shop.  Ya know those books shops that just ooze character? It could be in a movie, this book store.  You know, like the one in "You've Got Mail"?  It's that quaint.

So, I walk in, and Jean's voice floats down from the second-floor loft (okay it didn't float - she has a much more commanding voice that that). People stand on every step of the staircase, lean over railings, and crowd around listening to Jean read from her book.

When she finishes, someone from upstairs calls down, "we need pens!"  Someone from the store pulls one out of her purse, and since I am standing right there, I say, "I'll take it up to her." I do.  I am like Moses walking up those stairs, people parting to the left and right (boy, I'm on a role today, huh?) and as I reach the second floor landing, I see a swarm of people.  Men, women, kids - even a dog!  Sitting, standing, waiting to talk with Jean.  I walk through the throngs, and past a tv camera and stand in front of Jean and her podium, holding up the pen.  "Jean," I smile.

"You're Beth Wood!" She recognizes me - I guess from my facebook or blog profile picture.  We hug like old friends. And because she thinks I'm even "cuter in person" I think I like her even more. I truly feel like I've known this woman for a great many years.

Writing will do that to you.  It brings like-minded artists together.  We share the misery, the stress, the defeat, the joys, the understanding, man that it's what we gotta do.  Like it or not.  Good or bad, blood on the keyboard or no, we just get it.  We stick together.  Like my WWWPs and me.

Which is Reason #2 for me attending last night.  Because we writers have to support each other, dream for each other, critique, help, motivate, each other.

But I digress.  Again.  Jean is, how do you say? One. Hell. Of. A. Writer.  Really.  She is.  She had me from the very first blog post I read of hers.  She has a way of getting right to the heart of things with no drama (and believe you me,  she has reason to be dramatic if she wants to), no pity, just real, raw emotion.  But the real reason I am in awe of her writing is because she can DIGRESS like nobody's business.  The woman can swing from north to south and back again and we're just ... along for the ride.  Nodding our heads, like yeah.  

One of my favorite things to write about on my blog is books.  I'm my own little book review club over here.  I've just finished Jennifer Niven's "Becoming Clementine" and am working on that review.  And now I've got our very own Jean Ellen Whatley's book to enjoy, and review.

Jean, I hope I do ya proud, because I've just started reading, and I am hooked.

So proud of you.  So happy for you.  And looking forward to buying you a margarita over at Nacho Mama's very soon...