Yep, time sure does fly when you’re not looking.
I didn’t know any better.
When my boys were teenagers and I continued to work outside of the home, I believed that the days and hours and minutes would slow down once I was no longer helping with homework and playing chauffeur and working so many gosh-darn overtime hours.
I still didn’t know any better.
The year my mom turned 65, I said, “Mom, time is whooshing past. I can’t wait till the boys grow up and life slows back down.”
My mother looked at me with wisdom in her eyes. “If you think it’s fast now, just wait till you’re my age.”
I didn’t believe her.
And yet, now that my boys are grown up and on their own, now that I’ve stepped out of the daily commute rat race and work from home, now that it feels like I’m not rushing here and there 24/7, time continues to pick up pace.
I’ve talked to my boys and they concur. Those childhood and teenage years crawled past with all of the urgency of a snail crossing the road. But we all agree that the moment we turned the corner into adulthood, time shifted into overdrive.
How can that be? Why does it sometimes seem that the hours in a single day drag on endlessly, yet the passage of time from one Christmas to another happens in the blink of an eye? And if time speeds by faster each year, what will it be like at 95 or 100?
Do you know of a way to slow down time? Or is the ever increasing passage of time all hogwash and you recommend I get my head examined?
Thanks for stopping by to talk to me today!
I love to read emotionally charged stories, with characters who are shredded, then put back together. But I also love to laugh, so over time my own writing has become a blend of these two elements…just like in real life.
On the Personal Transformation site, the blog post author discusses the importance of having a happy emotional payoff. If you’re interested, check out the post. It’s short. I’ll wait…
Oh good, you’re back.
On Monday, my sister and I took our mom to the knee doctor, and Mom is now on the list for knee surgery. For two years now, we’ve been trying to get her on that list. The good news is, she’s finally on the list. The bad news is, she’s finally on the list.
Mom wants the operation, badly. She’s super active, and the knee not only causes her pain, it slows her down. And truthfully, the slowing down part is probably harder on her than the pain.
I want to be a good daughter. In fact, I get a huge emotional payoff when I’ve done something that makes Mom happy. But a very large part of me is afraid for this 98 pound, 85 year old woman. She’s feistier than I am, may even be physically stronger than me (although I think her strength is driven by the sheer determination to win at all costs), and the operation will allow her to be independent far longer than she would be if she didn’t get it.
But to me, she’s weak and old and frail and precious, and I struggle between being the good daughter (supporting her decision to have the operation) or being the bad daughter (convincing her the operation is a baaaaaddddd idea, especially at her age).
Hmmm, now where’s the humor in all this?
Well, you have to know my mom. She is one of the most determined, hard-headed women I know. Which means that once the operation is over, she’ll be pushing to get back to her “normal” self.
But her shoes are atrocious. She inherited them from my dad or her sister or anyone else who has said, “Dora, do you have a use for these? I’m throwing them out…” We can’t get her to wear proper footwear. So I’ve told her that while she’s in the hospital, I’m sending in reinforcements to collect and throw out all of her shoes. She doesn’t believe me, but in July, I’m fully expecting to be shunted to the bad daughter doghouse.
Then there’s the vegetable garden. I’ve warned her that if she plants before she goes into the hospital, it’ll be gone when she gets out, because no way can she resist the urge to play in her garden (and by play, I mean work). Again, she doesn’t believe me, but I’ve decided that part of the emotional payoff of being a good daughter is protecting my mom from her own stubbornness, and protecting her will give me a hugely happy emotional payoff.
And seriously, I’m not really afraid of the bad daughter doghouse. After all, I’m her daughter. Isn’t there a rule that she has to love me, no matter what?
So what are your favorite emotional payoffs in real life or in fiction?
Last year at this time, I offered Wedding Fever for FREE, and the reader response was so wonderful, I decided to do so again.
So for the next three days—January 23, 24, & 25—you can download this very special novella for FREE from Amazon. And this year, the ebook includes the bonus short story, Baby Fever, a prequel to Wedding Fever.
This novella is humorous romantic women’s fiction. It’s approximately 18,000 words, which means it’ll be a quick, one night read. There’s no sex, so you can share it with you daughters, your mothers, and your grandmothers. You can even read it out loud on the subway, if you want. 🙂
Liz Templeton is about to have her life turned upside down.
When her ex-husband, Mitch Parker, returns to town to hunt for the legendary Lost Lake treasure, her mother and former mother-in-law are determined to reunite the estranged couple. While Liz dodges their attempts, she must also deal with the ghost of her teenage daughter who is obsessed with discovering whether or not Mitch is her father.
Liz has one chance to stop her family from driving her insane…and falling head over heels in love with her ex isn’t part of the plan.
So head on over to Amazon and take advantage of this special 3 day FREE offer, then tell all of your friends about it. It’s only on till Saturday, so hurry. Fortunately, supplies won’t run out. 🙂
Like most betrayals, it happened in the wee hours of the morning. The pain is still fresh in my mind. The anguish, the heartbreak and fear, too.
I’ll never forget it because exactly two days earlier, I’d uploaded Terms of Surrender to all of the online retailers and I had everything ready for the release date. I was excited to finally start book 3 in the Rocky Mountain Romance series. Sara’s story was just dying to be written.
On top of it all, I was ready for a break. A few days off to announce Terms of Surrender to the world, spend some time with my family, restock the fridge, push a vacuum around, and maybe read a book.
Unable to sleep, I was in my home office, playing with a new software design app while I thought about changing my website design (which is what I do when I’m between books).
And then my six month old MacBook Air, which I happen to love ALMOST as much as I love my dear Hubs and family, sent me an error message. Then another and another and another and another and another…until there was nothing but a black screen on my notebook and a sick feeling in my gut.
Betrayed by my best friend, my computer.
It wasn’t the first time, of course. I’d been ditched by computers before, but this time seemed so much worse. Six months earlier, I’d made the switch from PC to Mac, and like any new relationship, I gave my new best friend my heart and soul and trust. And in doing so, I ignored the fact that I should protect our relationship by performing the occasional backup.
Instead, I trusted my friend to be there through thick and thin…and in the process lost every last bit of work I’d done since last May.
For the past month, instead of writing book 3, I’ve spent my time rebuilding all of the files I lost. I’ve also invested in an automatic backup system (since apparently I’m incapable of performing the simple task of the occasional backup which might have saved the relationship).
My trust is gone, at least for the moment. In the months to come, if my friend performs without further errors, I’ll grow comfortable and forget that backups are a necessary part of our relationship. But as long as the automatic backup system does his job, the next betrayal shouldn’t hurt quite so bad.
Are you the trusting type? Or are you emotionally and physically prepared for your computer’s inevitable betrayal?
Have a happy and safe Halloween!
No, it’s not what you’re thinking. Get your mind out of the gutter, folks. 🙂
You see, I married a DIY guy. He’s good with his hands, looks great in his tool belt, and is willing to tackle any project, large or small. Together we’ve built two houses, doing most of the work ourselves, and tackled numerous home renovations…all without killing each other.
However, I’m always a little bit reluctant, while he’s always gung-ho for the next project and the next challenge.
I once worked with a woman who did all of her own home repairs and maintenance. She had a knack for hammers and skill saws and pipe wrenches and tape measures. If there was a kitchen tap in need of repair or a new shelving unit to be mounted to the wall, she knew how to do the job. Man, was I envious.
I have no building or mechanicals skills at all. Give me a computer and a program or app, and I can do anything. Give me a hammer and a toolbelt and a pipe wrench and…well, let’s just say if I had to hang a bookshelf on my own, it would be crooked. And the moment someone placed an object on it, it would fall off the wall.
So how do my DIY guy and I work together?
I’m the go-fer gal – go for the hammer, get more nails, go pick up paint – while he’s the one that measures and cuts and makes sure our home projects are sturdy and straight.
I’m also the manual laborer – lift this stone, hold that piece of gyproc against the ceiling, bring another wheelbarrow of sand or dirt – and after the last few days, I’ve got the muscles and the bruises to prove I can do it.
Yet despite nearly 40 years of hanging out with my DIY guy, I’m still unable to hang a picture by myself.
How about you? Are you a Do-It-Yourself person, tackling your own home projects and maintenance projects, or do you call a guy or maybe call a girl? This exhausted girl wants to know. 🙂