Praise and Rejection

When I first started putting my writing out there in the big wide world, I got a mixture of praise and rejection. And it continues. Now, the praise is easy to take, like a spoon full of ice cream (the traditional 'spoon full of sugar' makes my teeth ache. Sorry Ms. Poppins), but the rejection can be soul destroying. Especially when you think your story is the most amazing thing since the Bible. 

Sometimes, the critic is right, and what you've written is a pile of dung. Sometimes, the rejection helps to sculpt your work into something far greater. Sometimes, it's just one opinion and another reader may love it. And sometimes, it's more about the process and enjoyment you had while writing that pile of dung than how good it actually is. 

That said, I have been writing some flash fiction for The Standard Lit Magazine, an amazing new venture that prints its first copy in January. The following piece is one that wasn't right for them, but gosh darn it, did I have fun writing it! So here it is in all its glory, be it stinky dung or worthy of readers - 

A Winter Moment

The young sun chills the scene in a blue haze. The world is hibernating, but his breaths are even and assured as he sits in his truck. The radio crackles with static in a place too distant for the voices of men. Snow drifts and dusts the windshield, never seeming to settle. The heavy boughs of the birch would beg to differ.

With a lifetime of routine, he sees clearly through the mist.  

Coils of a rich dark roast attempt to drag his eyes to the cup holder. But he cannot be distracted; he has the best seat in the house.

The show begins with the creak of snow under hooves, the clack of horn against horn, and the shifting of air as shaggy boulders roll from the mist.

The grumble of his truck sputters and dies. He waits until the very last second, fingers gripped around the wheel.

When he hears that first gentle low, a grin releases the boy that once pressed his nose against the window of his father’s truck. With the nimbleness of his younger self, he gets to work.

Warm breath adds to the mist as several bold heads lock over the sides of the trailer. He cradles a soft nose and allows it to restore feeling in his fingers. Then, with the warmth still lingering, he pinches tight twine and snips the haylage free. Steam rushes from the core, and the air is filled with the sweet sour smell of fermentation.

He drops mounds in the snow, the strands barely touching the ground before they are caught and chewed and cured into cud.

He lays the last morsel and returns to his cab satisfied. He sits a while longer, making the most of a historic winter moment and marveling at the resilience of his highland herd. 

Merry Christmas!!!!!!

It's here! Christmas is upon us, kids all over the world are now counting hours instead of sleeps, and my niece has met Father Christmas for the very first time! The result:

Then:

I have been super organised this year. As opposed to last year, we can actually afford to buy presents now AND the extortionate shipping fees to the UK no longer result in us living on Ramen noodles and the occasional bean for the rest of the week. 

UK gifts had to be sent two weeks ago to ensure they arrived on time (hence my organisation). I am so glad I got them out early, as the queues at the post office today were ridiculous! I am not normally one to be put off by a long queue - I'm patient in that respect, and of course us Brits love to queue! But this one was silly, and there was a woman in the middle with about fifty million parcels to send. So I walked in, chuckled to myself and walked straight back out again. 


FYI: Apparently 'queue' is not a word used often over here. I've been asked a few times what a 'queue' is. I love these little differences! 


A true taste of Christmas for me is mulled wine. As soon as I sip it, I am transported to Lincoln Christmas market (the city of my uni days): 

I haven't yet found it in shops over here, so I found a great and simple recipe online: http://allrecipes.com/recipe/hot-mulled-wine/. I also added some orange segments which I left in the mix when I transferred it to the slow cooker to keep warm. As I'm all about mashing cultures together, I served it in mason jars in the style of moonshine:

I dub thee, 'Mull-shine'!

I hope you all have a very merry Christmas and safe New Year! And may your New Year's resolution be to have the attitude of Miss Sunshine, the receptionist at my husband's dental surgery: 

"Hello, my name is Jasmine, how can I make you smile today?"

(Gotta love a cheesy line!) 

It's Christmas party season!!!!

It's Christmas party season, and I had two in one day! 

Last Friday we closed down the office at midday and went to Cool River, a swanky pool hall in Irving. Now, I know what you're thinking - how can a pool hall be swanky? Well, just add waiters with horderves, the best steak I have ever tasted, toilets that spritz you as you enter, and bingo! One swanky pool hall! It doesn't hurt if you have a few mounted deer heads on the walls too, even if said deer heads are wearing Santa hats. 

So, we played swanky pool and we ate (swankily) and sipped swanky margaritas. Merry Christmas!

The weirdest thing about Cool River is the fact that people are allowed to smoke INSIDE. When my colleague lit up in front of me, I nearly had a heart attack (I'm a fan of obeying rules, to the point that I considered grabbing the cigarette and stuffing it in my swanky margarita). I know there has only been a smoking ban in England since 2007, and I can still remember what it was like to come home from an evening out smelling like a cigarette butt, but I found it very strange. I have since learnt that not all localities in Texas have a smoking ban in bars and restaurants. 

On to party number two...

It started with me buying cheese. Lots and lots of cheese. And when I say cheese, I don't just mean your average Colby Jack and Monterrey that are so popular over here - oh no! I mean Red Leicester with red peppers, mouth-puckering Welsh cheddar, French brie, Boursin, and white Stilton with apricots. 

For me, Christmas is all about cheese in England (and mince pies and Christmas pud and mulled wine and stuffing and chestnuts, but I could go on and on). 

The second party of the day was at Church with our fellow nearly and newly wedded friends. We all had to bring a plate of food, and I signed up oh so willingly for cheese and crackers. They went down a storm! Needless to say, I didn't eat anything at the second party. With a belly full of steak and asparagus, and a slab of chocolate cake to go in my car, I was done. 

We played White Elephant again (see 'Do we do this in England???' posted on 16th December 2013 for details of this game) and Jeopardy. Everyone really went to town on the gifts for White Elephant this year! They were tasteful as opposed to unusual/just plain wrong. We came away with a stein tankard, although I had been eyeing up a particularly nice cheese board set for a steal. Last year it was Poopouri (see 'Do we do this in England???') and a VHS entitled 'Tough Questions about Sex' circa 1970. 

Another festive event that occurred last week was our trip to see the Twelve Days of Christmas at Dallas Arboretum. Do you remember the pumpkin patch they displayed there? Well, this time it was a set of twelve band stands decorated to match the song. 

The ones containing birds were beautiful: 

However, I stopped taking pictures when it got to the people (lords leaping, maids milking .etc.) and not because they were any less spectacular, but because I am not a fan of creepy manikins. Especially ones on conveyor belts. 

But, bravo Dallas Arboretum! You did a wonderful job! 



FYI: Did you know that cats shed hair when they're nervous? We took Piper to the vet for her rabies jab last night and she was puffing hair all over the place! I thought we'd be leaving with a Sphynx cat! 

Here is a shot of her trying to be sent to England when I was trying to pack gifts in a box:

For some reason, she feels like she has to assert her dominance by claiming every box that enters the apartment. Look at that face. It clearly says, "Step away from the box. I claim it in the name of Aslan."  

Treat Yo Self!

With 2015 fast approaching, I can't help but dream about what lies around the corner.

Next year, God willing, will be a time to see our over-the-pond-and-faraway family. Hubby and I are hoping to make an England trip, and I know that there are a few people planning to make it over to see us in Texas too. As much as I love the 2D Skype version of my family and friends, it is going to be so good to see them in 4D (HD if I get some new glasses by then!). 

Austin and I also decided last night to take a few more weekend trips next year. America is our oyster! (So long as we go in January when the prices are dirt cheap) We can get to Washington DC in just 2 and a half hours, Florida in a little over that, so why not? We shall be weekend travelers! It's funny to think that just over a year ago, the thought of flying off on a cold January cheap-seat flight would have made us laugh in disbelief. Yes, we make more money now, but we are also learning to hold our purse strings a little looser when it comes to enjoying ourselves and giving to others (don't worry parents, we are still saving for that mortgage!). I'm so keen to see more of this country God's landed me in! And, as two wise people once said, sometimes it's good to 'treat yo self!' -

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OP3xf6BFEIo



FYI: Our Christmas tree at work is up and has been PROFESSIONALLY DECORATED. I had no idea that was even a job! And no, the decorator was not an elf. I know, I was disappointed too. She was of average height, had no bells on her shoes, and did not sing 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' in a high squeaky voice. She was, however, an 'arty' type, and decorated the tree (which came out of the box looking mangled and past its best) with peacock feathers, giant head-sized ornaments, and enough ribbon to make a toga. 

Now, it's not really my cup of tea, and in this photograph the ribbon looks like toilet paper, but I can appreciate the thought that went into it (it took her over four hours! I've honestly never seen someone move so slowly).



FYI Part Two: If you like Carol of the Bells (who doesn't?!) then you must take a look at this version by Pentatonix. It's incredible! They also have other Christmas songs available plus a multitude of chart covers. Just a little Christmas gift from me to you. You're welcome! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSUFzC6_fp8

(How deep is Beanie man's voice?!)

'Tis the season!

The leaves are officially underfoot. It's crunching season (who doesn't love jumping in a pile of leaves? Apart from the leaf blower man who made said pile of leaves). 

The trees are looking naked, my third Basil plant died, and the temperature has dropped to freezing (although we'll probably be wearing t-shirts next week, knowing Texas flip-flop weather).

Christmas music blares from car radios, giant, Texas-sized baul bauls line the streets, and the shoppers are going nuts.

As soon as Thanksgiving was over, my little slice of Texas became red, green and sparkly. 

My second ever Thanksgiving was awesome. Mainly because we had two. Two lots of turkey, green bean casserole, corn casserole, dressing (aka, stuffing), pecan pie, pumpkin pie and nibbles upon nibbles. And there are still leftovers in the fridge. We should finish them just in time for Christmas (!).

Our recent and continuing festive food consumption is the reason behind our current gym attendance. On most week nights, you can find me and Austin on the treadmills being screamed at by the App Man who is going to take us from couch to 5K in just eight weeks.  

Then again, running on a treadmill is a lot different to running outside. There is no wind (unless you count the air-con blowing in your face), there are no rocks to fall over (unless you count my feet, which are the size of boulders as I have mentioned before), and no people/pushchairs/dogs/skunks/scorpions to dodge. Plus, the surface of the treadmill is merciful in that it gives you an extra spring to your stride with its flexible running surface. You have to work extra hard on concrete. Dang you, concrete!

I'm thinking that when we can comfortably run 5K on a treadmill (if that's even possible), we will probably be able to run around half to three quarters of that distance outside. I know this because when I attempted to run a mile outside last week, I had a billion stitches in my side and was making high pitched wheezing sounds like a leaky balloon. The next day, I ran a mile on the treadmill, and I could still hold a conversation in which I likened my fitness and speed to that of Usain Bolt. 

I have never been a runner. I was never interested at school, and to be honest, I find it quite torturous. But I always feel good after the pain, and I'd love to be able to achieve the title of '5K Runner'. I'll keep you posted.

In other news, our tree is up and the cat has yet to knock it over. Success! Last year, she was in those branches and flicking ornaments to her hearts content. I emptied a whole spray bottle of water in my attempts to extract her!

So far this year, I have only seen her sit at the base and stare wistfully up into the branches. I think she knows that she has grown too big to squeeze among them now that she's left kitten-hood behind. 

In UTTERLY FANTASTIC news, I just arrived home from work to the best parcel ever! My mum has sent a home-made advent calendar, complete with goodies, and the perfect music to accompany me while I set it up. 

(I'm listening to this now. An opera singer just reached a note so high that my speaker went fuzzy. I'm also feeling the need for a cup of tea in a cup and saucer. Gotta love Downton class!)

Have a bloody marvellous week, chaps and chapesses!