Today is Veteran's Day. Thank you, veterans!
Veteran's Day caught me by surprise because my kids have school today, and, well, it's Friday and not Monday, the normal day for government holidays. Until just a few minutes ago, I forgot my husband is a government contractor and has the day off.
When he's off work, I get extra time to write! Yay! An expected writing day, the best kind of writing day. It's like an unexpected gift in a really big box with a fancy bow containing something I need and want.
Very early this morning as the sun came up on the horizon and before I realized I had all day to write, I drove home from taking my daughter to school. I thought about my progress on NaNoWriMo and decided to modify my expectations for myself. I decided to cut my NaNo goal in half to 25K words, which is a goal I can achieve.
I got some very positive feedback this week from a beta reader on the middle third of my last novel. I planned on finishing the edits to the final third before the beginning of November, but it didn't work out. Last night, I was able to finish edits for two chapters. When I opened my eyes this morning, I decided I really want to finish my last novel tonight, by the end of the weekend at the latest. I want to send out the final third to my beta reader while the middle part is fresh in their minds. So I very unapologetically set this as my priority for the month above writing half of my NaNo novel.
So my month is more like NaNoHalfMo/NaNoEditMo.
I am one of those people that gets very excited about achieving personal goals. I am definitely going to have a great weekend.
Showing posts with label Veterans Day. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Veterans Day. Show all posts
Friday, November 11, 2011
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Veterans Day
This morning my son told me he needs to wear red, white and blue to school because it's Veteran's Day. I was just thinking about my husband's uncle who was a veteran.
About nine years ago, my in-laws (now ex-in-laws) solemnly told my husband and me that they needed to talk to us. We were in their living room in their perfectly clean house, every picture frame in its exact place, not a speck of dust visible on the coffee table or the fireplace mantle. My husband and I sat next to each other on the couch while his parents each took a chair that formed a semi-circle that opened to the fireplace. My kids chased each other around the first floor, giggling while we sat down to have this obviously serious discussion.
My mother-in-law sat uncomfortably fidgeting in her chair. My very stoic father-in-law cleared his voice before he spoke. Neither made eye contact with us. "I need to tell you something very serious," he said. "I don't know exactly how to tell you this but your Uncle George..." he paused unable to go on, looking like he was going to tear up, something this giant man never ever did. My husband and I exchanged looks, knowing for sure what was coming - he had cancer, we thought he must be dying to cause this much emotion in Robert, Sr., as we all called him, not Dad, but Robert, Sr., always with the Sr. added as if he needed the formality to feel complete.
"He is gay."
Again, my husband and I exchanged glances. This time we smiled. My husband said exactly what I was thinking, word for word. "Really, you think?" They both finally looked at us and were shocked we were so amused at such horrible news.
"He has a lapdog named Princess," my husband said. After reading the confused looks from his parents, he added, "with a hair bow in her hair." He pointed to the picture at the center of the mantle. He had a formal portrait made with his pretty little dog with her pink hair bow. "That picture was him coming out. You seriously didn't know?" my husband asked his parents.
"Well, no," they said, somehow disappointed that we didn't share their disappointment in his brother's life choice, somehow let down that we didn't take the news harder and that it apparently wasn't news at all.
We got up with smiles and left them to their confused emotions.
About a year ago, my ex-husband told me that Uncle George had died. He told me he went to the funeral. Uncle George had been in the military, so he had a traditional service where they put an American flag on the casket and presented it to the family. "Robert, Senior was very upset," he told me very seriously, "that they gave the flag to Aunt Gary."
About nine years ago, my in-laws (now ex-in-laws) solemnly told my husband and me that they needed to talk to us. We were in their living room in their perfectly clean house, every picture frame in its exact place, not a speck of dust visible on the coffee table or the fireplace mantle. My husband and I sat next to each other on the couch while his parents each took a chair that formed a semi-circle that opened to the fireplace. My kids chased each other around the first floor, giggling while we sat down to have this obviously serious discussion.
My mother-in-law sat uncomfortably fidgeting in her chair. My very stoic father-in-law cleared his voice before he spoke. Neither made eye contact with us. "I need to tell you something very serious," he said. "I don't know exactly how to tell you this but your Uncle George..." he paused unable to go on, looking like he was going to tear up, something this giant man never ever did. My husband and I exchanged looks, knowing for sure what was coming - he had cancer, we thought he must be dying to cause this much emotion in Robert, Sr., as we all called him, not Dad, but Robert, Sr., always with the Sr. added as if he needed the formality to feel complete.
"He is gay."
Again, my husband and I exchanged glances. This time we smiled. My husband said exactly what I was thinking, word for word. "Really, you think?" They both finally looked at us and were shocked we were so amused at such horrible news.
"He has a lapdog named Princess," my husband said. After reading the confused looks from his parents, he added, "with a hair bow in her hair." He pointed to the picture at the center of the mantle. He had a formal portrait made with his pretty little dog with her pink hair bow. "That picture was him coming out. You seriously didn't know?" my husband asked his parents.
"Well, no," they said, somehow disappointed that we didn't share their disappointment in his brother's life choice, somehow let down that we didn't take the news harder and that it apparently wasn't news at all.
We got up with smiles and left them to their confused emotions.
About a year ago, my ex-husband told me that Uncle George had died. He told me he went to the funeral. Uncle George had been in the military, so he had a traditional service where they put an American flag on the casket and presented it to the family. "Robert, Senior was very upset," he told me very seriously, "that they gave the flag to Aunt Gary."
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