Thank You!

As a personal rule, I believe in being positive. I really don't see the need for negativity; mostly because I'm lazy. It takes way too much effort to be mean and vindictive or an all-around sourpuss. It's just easier to be nice. Remember the penguins from the movie Madagascar? Smile and wave, boys. Smile and wave. 

Also, I believe that like attracts like. If you're generally happy and positive, you will attract generally happy and positive people into your life. Before you accuse me of being all Pollyanna-like, I also have a healthy respect for reality. Sometimes, reality does in fact, bite. Tough things come along and make you wish you were somewhere on a faraway tropical island, sipping slushy drinks on the beach.

This week, however, is not about the tough things. This week has been all about the good things; the highlight of which was seeing the word "author" next to my name. Author!!!! My novel made it to the quarterfinals, which is the most I was hoping for. Anything after this will be the icing on the cake.

Also, things are plugging away for us to move into our new home within the next several weeks. We've lived here in the beautiful mountain tops for five years, and we are excited to finally put down roots and have a place to call our own.

Beyond that, the weather warmed right up, and I got to take a drive in a convertible -- and there's hardly anything that makes me giddier than sunshine and a convertible (except of course, seeing the word author next to my name)!

BUT (and this is the biggest thing this week) as I shared on Facebook all of the good things that happened this week, I was utterly humbled by all of the friends who were genuinely happy for me; at how many people offered sweet sentiments of congratulations and well wishes -- even people who were possibly as ecstatic as I was. Texts, e-mails, hugs...I was the recipient of all of this positive energy this week.

And to all of them, I can only say, thank you.

What an affirmation of like attracting like.

I know, and I mean KNOW, that my friends would rush to my aid when the tough times hit. But how much sweeter it is to know that they are there in the good times, too.



P.S. I have dubbed 2013 "The Year of Yes." We're making good thing happen up in here!

Math or Cleaning?

Last night I was helping my son with his 4th grade math homework. While we were bellied up to the counter, elbow deep in fractions and decimals and number lines, I had asked my daughter to straighten up the living room and kitchen. From this little scene, I learned something: cleaning frustrates her as much as math frustrates me. I'm slightly embarrassed to admit this, but there was a certain problem in the math book that had me stumped. My daughter, of course, is something of a math wiz. She was sweeping the kitchen floor when I asked her to take a look at the problem and then explain it to her brother.

And then there was this moment.

This moment when I realized that she is her mother's daughter.

"Okay," she said. "Everybody stop. Everybody do a ten-foot radius check."

"A ten-foot radius check?" I asked.

"Everybody pick up and put away whatever is within a ten-foot radius of you. I don't care if it's yours or not."

*where have i heard that before?*

Mind you, I would not have used a high-fallutin' math term like "ten-foot radius," but I would have said something like, "I don't care who it belongs to or where it goes, just put it away!" So I smiled to myself. And I took my ball cap to my room. Then I came back and picked up a dish rag and wiped down the stove, because, you know, it was only three feet away from me. She sat down and calmly and successfully explained the math problem to her brother.

And then to me.

Happy Dance

I have some pretty exciting news today. Last month I entered my novel into a contest called the Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award. It's a contest with several rounds, and yesterday I learned that my novel made it to the second round! I'd be lying if I told you I didn't do a little happy dance in my kitchen with my husband and kids. And then I did a little happy dance in the car. I may have even done a little happy dance at the gas station in Beaver, Utah. There weren't any witnesses, so you can't actually prove it. I have no idea how far it will actually go, but for now, I'm counting this as a small triumph!

I will probably be happy dancing for another day or so, and then I will be biting my nails until March 12, when the next advancement is announced. *That seems so far away!*

So if you want, do a little happy dance with me right there on your side of the screen. Right now. Go ahead.

It's fun, isn't it?

PANTS!

I have nothing much to say today, except for this:

Dear People Who Make Pants,

Please, for the love of Mike,* once and for all, would you just finally realize that we (meaning the world) need pants that cover our hineys and stay there when we walk, bend, sit, reach, eat, run, wipe the table, get out of the car, get into the car, stretch, talk on the phone, pedal our bicycles, pose for a picture, do the laundry, go to job interviews, lie on the couch, crouch on the floor, stoop on the steps, and generally live our lives?!?!?

Also, please remember that some all of us have curves and junk in the trunk and waistlines and hips bigger than our waists. Please take that into consideration the next time you cut some fabric and sew it back together.

Thanks,
Every Woman, Everywhere.


*I love my Uncle Mike.

Courage.

For Christmas this year, I decided to make gratitude journals for my husband and kids. Each book is entitled, "365 Things I am Grateful for in 2013." I thought it would be a fun exercise for us to do together, finding something to be grateful for each day this year -- and acknowledging it.

I thought I would share what I was grateful for yesterday.

Yesterday, I got called in to my old school to sub second grade. It's the first time I've subbed since before the shooting at Sandy Hook happened. Yes, that event hit especially close to home for me, as it did, I'm sure, for every other teacher in America. I'll admit, it was on my mind as I pulled into the parking lot. As I entered the classroom, I took note of little things, like how this classroom was exactly three doors down from the office; like how the door opens out to the hall and not in to the room, which would take an extra bit of a second in the event of a lock down. Also, how there was no way to lock the door from the inside. I also noticed that the wall between the hallway and classroom is made of cinder block, and how that was a good thing.

But then the bell rang and the kids came in, and we talked about what Santa brought them and the difference between summarizing and retelling. We added two-digit numbers and played "I'm Going to the Moon." We stayed in for recess because it was EIGHT degrees outside and we learned about electrical charges. All in all, it was a really good day at school.

And so, the thing I was grateful for yesterday was courage. I never thought of teaching school as a very courageous thing to do (that's usually reserved for the police and firefighters and customer service reps at Target). But yesterday, it took a little courage for me to walk into a K-4 elementary school, in a small town, with a close-knit community.

And I was grateful I had it.

Today's Christmas Thought

Well, Christmastime is here. One of my favorite Christmas albums ever is the one by Michael Crawford. The way he sings "O Holy Night" speaks to my soul. Among the many beautiful songs on the album is one called "Scarlet Ribbons." It's a sweet little song, whose story goes something like this:

It's Christmas Eve, and a man stops in front of his daughter's bedroom door, where he catches her praying for some scarlet hair ribbons. Touched by this humble and simple request, he rushes out in search of said ribbons. Of course, it's late at night on Christmas Eve, and all the stores are closed. He returns home, empty-handed and disappointed that he will have let down his daughter the next morning. He goes back to her room to admire her sleeping face, and there, at the foot of the bed, miraculously, are some beautiful scarlet ribbons. He stares in awe, then ends the song with these lyrics:

If I live to be two-hundred,
I will never know from where
came those lovely scarlet ribbons,
scarlet ribbons for her hair.

Well, I can tell you EXACTLY from whence they came: HIS WIFE!!!!!!

Honestly, are you as exhausted as I am? Not that my husband isn't any help at Christmas, but I am the one doing most of the legwork here! Case in point: Today, we were driving in the car, when he mentioned that he thought we should get our son his own set of scriptures for Christmas. I told him I thought it was a great idea and asked him what kind he thought we should get.

"Well, I know he wants his name embossed on them."

"Okay," I replied and started spouting off all the different styles and prices, when he said,"He's only 10 so I was thinking of getting him the cheap ten-dollar student kind."

"Those don't exist," I said.

"That's what I paid for mine."

"Yes. Back in 1985."

"Well, I'll stop by a Deseret Book Store this week and start looking." Actually, we all know that's code for I have no idea what I'm talking about. Besides, you can't START looking the week before Christmas.

Scarlet ribbons, indeed.

An Open Letter to the Kardashians

Dear Kardashians,

Stop it.

Please.

For the love of all that is good and right in the world, I beg you to knock it off. Why, you ask? I'll tell you.

I try to not be a selfish person. Yes, occasionally I sneak into my closet and enjoy a piece of dark chocolate away from the kids. Sometimes I like to hold onto the remote control during prime time. But in general, for the most part, I really try hard to be unselfish.

This is not one of those times.

But I'm asking you this for selfish reasons. You need to stop it, because what's happening out there is killing me. You're creating a whole clueless army of mini Kardashians. And they must be stopped. They're standing in the security lines at the airports of the world, wearing their velour track suits with rhinestone words on the hineys, hands full of glossy, designer handbags that cost more than my rent, tripping over their stiletto heels. But who can blame them? It's probably hard for them to see anything from behind their giraffe-like eyelash extensions.

And then.

And then, after they eventually figure out that they have to unbuckle their high heels before removing them from their feet for the TSA x-ray machine, they pull out what I can only assume is a large rodent small dog from one of the many glossy bags (you're only allowed two, by the way). So then what happens? They hold up the entire security line while TSA agents stand around in their blue shirts trying to figure out what to do. AND THE REST OF US HAVE TO WAIT. We don't want to wait. We don't care about their scrappy little dogs. WE WANT TO GO HOME!

In closing, Kardashians, please. I'm begging you. Turn off the cameras. Turn on the privacy filters. Shop at Target and let the rest of us get on with our lives.

Sincerely,
Cindy Stagg

P.S. Don't even try to keep up with me.