SHOT GUN.

The kiddies love playing in my Saab. I get it; with all the dials, buttons and that awesome steering wheel what child wouldn't be tempted? As long as the key isn't in the ignition I'm good.

"So where do you wanna go, Gian?" asks Maile.

I call shot gun.

Ten and two, Maile.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ME!

Yesterday I turned 31. To celebrate, my hubby and baby boy bought me a little cake. I must say my birthdays get better and better!

Blow, Gian, blow!

Oops, try again.

Make a wish for mama.

I hope your wish comes true, Gian.

WE'RE STILL HERE!

With two 15 page papers looming ahead (the rough draft of one is due this Tuesday!) I cannot place as much attention to this blog. I figure it's time for me to stop procrastinating on my papers. I'll try posting photos of the kiddies at least once a week, try being the operative word.

But as an incentive for me, if I don't post a blog at least once a week, the first person to leave me a comment on the most recent post will receive a gift certificate to Stell's coffee. Yummy!

BRILLIANT.

Enough said.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ATELEI!

Happy birthday, sweet sister. Your cake is on its way.

STELL'S = PRODUCTIVITY.

So Allan was supposed to head to San Diego with Sib and Von and spend the day watching cars (or airplanes?) whiz by, but upon discovering that I have a paper due on Tuesday he called his buddies and asked to leave later in the day. How sweet. I am usually an organized person but this paper eluded me, most likely because I haven't been updating my assignment planner, and forgot to write it down. Oops. My professors ask more from me this quarter mainly because a) I'm taking a writing class, b) I'm taking a language class, c) my professors love reading student work. I don't mind because I enjoy the writing process; however, it's tricky balancing Gian, Allan, household duties and school. That's why I'm so thankful my husband understands and accommodates his schedule for my needs.

Now I'm here at Stell's, my favorite coffee shop that reeks of Costa Rica blend, sipping my decaf nonfat latte, Beck's forlorn voice harmonizing with the gray waterlogged landscape, and reading my assignments on a lopsided table. It's great.

Thank you, babe. My brain is happy.

ONLY ONE.

Choose just one story to tell. Remember, show don't tell. Make sure your characters play a vital role in the story. What is this piece of writing trying to do? Does the writing do it well? Is what it’s trying to do worth doing?

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know: where to start, what to write, how to say it. I'm drowning in a sea of incoherent thoughts. It's my nemesis.