Don’t forget this week’s drawing. To enter you simply have to help us out with our annual Susan G. Komen/Race for the Cure shirts. It’s easy! You just have to come up with something perfectly hilariously creatively and uniquely brilliant. Rhyming with boob is optional. Details HERE.

First of all, behold my favorite E*Trade commercial.

It was announced Tuesday that The Lohan is suing E*Trade for a ridiculous sum of money because CLEARLY that commercial is a slam on her character. She is asking for 100 million in damages. Someone needs to 1. Get new advisors 2. Get a real job so she can pay her cell phone bill without suing people for awesomely amazing commercials. The suit alleges that the name Lindsay is like “Madonna” or “Cher” in that she is the only famous Lindsay and clearly it was about her. Omigosh, get a life. My friend Oh-So-Pregnant Sheila had this to say:“Wow. I mean, it MIGHT be different if it was a redheaded baby at her GIRLfriend’s house…  and they said “that coke fiend Lindsay.” Because THEN I could totally see E*Trade forking over 100 mill.

Right now I am loving Awakening by the Passion band. (Passion 2010). You can preview the whole thing HERE. Crowder Band’s “Oh How He Loves Us” live is perfectly amazing. If that song doesn’t speak to you, then you’re dead inside. Because today I thought I was going to choke someone, and then I heard that song and totally calmed down and only put a small hurt on them instead. That’s the Lord moving right there.

Apparently Miley Cyrus has fallen for her Aussie co-star from the movie The Last Song. It was “like” at first sight, and in an interview Cyrus says, “I think he and I are both deeper than  normal people.”  Um, THIS deep?  And here’s a hint, people who ARE deeper than normal people, do not say they are deeper than normal people.  In fact, that’s the ONLY reason those same words haven’t come out of my mouth. . .

For those of you who wrote me and brought it to my attention that in the blurb for So Over My Head, it says Bella is newly single, but in the chapter one preview she CLEARLY has a boyfriend, well…she’s a teen. And things change. Quickly. You’ll just  have to read it to find out whether she’s single-single. Or kinda-single. Or semi-dating-single.

I’ve read some books lately. I read Jillian Michaels’ Master Your Metabolism. I can’t recommend this book enough. It’s an easy read, though it can get a little scientific. It’s all about the bad hormones in our foods.  And if you’re interested in that sort of thing,  clean eating guru Michael Pollan will be on Oprah this Thursday. He was on about a month ago to discuss his documentary Food, Inc, and it was seriously one of the best Oprah’s I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen 25 year’s worth, give or take a couch-jumping episode.  God bless Mr. and Mrs. Obama for caring about our  health and health care, but ten minutes of watching this guy, and you’ll know HE needs to be the one in charge of that gig.

I also read Libba Bray’s Going Bovine (author of the great series A Great and Terrible Beauty) and Margaret Peterson Haddix’s Just Ella. Next up is Oh. My. Gods., which is supposed to be like the female version of The Lightning Thief, a book I kinda struggled with.

This has been a crazy week and it’s barely started. Monday morning I griped out my third hour class because the previous week I had oatmeal on my butt and nobody even thought to tell me. And the sad thing is it took me a full week to remember to chew them out. They were like, “We don’t look at your butt.” And I was like, “It wasn’t anything you’d have to go looking for. It was RIGHT THERE. And you let me walk around with oatmeal on my butt all day.” And they were like, “How did it get there?” And I was like, “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

And to continue the craziness of the week, I am finishing up a book and writing like crazy. And I do mean crazy. Monday night I fell asleep at 7:3o pm for probably the first time in my life since I was two. And that was good. Because I needed to catch up on some missed sleep. But the problem with going to sleep at 7:30 is that seven hours later you wake up. At 2:30.  I was a real joy to my students that next morning. So yeah, writing like crazy. Working ’til 8-ish at school some this week for conferences. (I’m on the front lines as a greeter and procedure-explainer. My mom said it would look good on my resume when I was ready to transition to full time greeter at Wal-Mart.)  And somehow front-line-procedure-explainer became “please tell me your every gripe with our conference organization.”   If you think I’m a gifted listener who can gracefully handle a wad of complaints about my school, you’re wrong. Another teacher and I started out being all kind and patient, but by the end of the evening, we were beating the parents to the punch. “You’ll take this folder and go down that hall. They will want to show you a PowerPoint presentation, but if you see it, you’ll just come back later and tell us it was a waste of your time, so when they try to grab you to watch it, just start running. And at the end of the obstacle course, you’ll be shown into the library where you will stand with 1000 other parents. You will feel like you are in one of Dante’s layers of hell. And you’ll be right. You might want to bring snacks.”It was insane. And I sat by a volunteer who hadn’t eaten since Saturday. And I was like, “Ma’am, I’m pretty sure you and I can’t be friends.”

And my house is in “Deadline Destruction” mode.  So if Ellen drops by my house for a surprise money or car giveaway, she can just keep it, because I’m not letting ANYONE in during Deadline Destruction mode. So if you wanted to offer up a few prayers for me, I wouldn’t sue you for 100 million or anything.

Have a great rest of the week.

My butt loves oatmeal  more than yours does-

Jen

Also I was really sad that Meryl Streep didn’t win best actress. I LOVED, loved, loved Blindside. One of my favorite movies of 2009. And Sandra Bullock is one of my most favorite actresses, if not the favorite actress. How could I not love the queen of rom-coms? But Meryl Streep in Juile and Julia was acting on a level I’d never seen. I mean the woman is brilliant, and I didn’t even love the movie. She became Julia Child. So I think she got robbed. But I was super excited for Mo’Nique. I couldn’t watch Precious because I had a feeling it would be like reading The Lovely Bones–powerful but giving me everlasting ickiness. But that woman is a great success story. And she’s not typical Hollywood. Yet.

Anyway, I had a weekend full of sunshine, and it was fabulous! I am officially over winter. Bring on spring.

Let us do a contest, shall we? It’s almost time for the Race for the Cure again, which is of course a benefit for the Susan G. Komen “let’s nuke breast cancer” foundation. We are all about us some Race for the Cure in my family and circle of friends, so it’s a big deal. Last year we brought home the invisible gold for best t-shirts with our Boob Warriors shirts, created by me and my friend Snow Loving  Holly.

The shirts say Boob Warriors: Big or Small, We Save Them All.

And the shirts were the hit of the race. Seriously, I haven’t been that popular since I gave everyone at my high school ten bucks to vote for me for prom queen. So we really need to maintain our high level of t-shirt awesomeness. This is where you come in. To be entered to win a copy of So Over My Head (when it comes out May 4th), just leave a comment in which you give me ideas for our t-shirts. For each idea, you get your name in the hat one time. I have a few ideas I’m working on, but I don’t feel that peace about them yet. That peace of the Lord that says, “This is boobtastic.” So dig deep into your WonderBras and throw us some clever ideas. You have until Thursday night before the first kiss in a lab room on Grey’s Anatomy. Winner will be announced Friday. In fact, let’s do two winners. I’ll pick the one I like the best. And then I’ll do a random drawing as well. Then it’s all fair and square.

As mentioned, So Over My Head will be out May 4th, give or take a day (or week).  That’s a question I’ve gotten a lot via email. So soon–the book will be out soon. I thought I would share some chapters this week. Here’s a brief rundown of the story.

Newly single, stalked by a killer, and in desperate need of some chic clown shoes, Bella is one mocha frapp away from a total meltdown.

When the Fritz Family Carnival makes its annual appearance in Truman, Bella’s keen reporter instincts tell her the bright lights hide more than they reveal. Her suspicions are confirmed when one of the stars is murdered. Though the police make an immediate arrest, Bella doubts this case is quite that simple.

She needs her crime-solving boyfriend Luke more than ever, but his ex has moved back to town, giving Bella some murderous thoughts of her own. Then again, there’s no time for a relationship crisis when Bella’s doing her best to derail her father’s wedding  while staying one step ahead of a killer.

Is God sending her a message in all of this madness? With a murderer on the loose and her boyfriend’s ex on the prowl, this undercover clown has never had more to juggle–or more at risk.

And now…chapter uno.

Chapter One

If my love life was the knife toss at a circus, I’d have Luke Sullivan speared to the wall with an apple in his mouth.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The Fritz Family welcomes you to the greatest show on earth!” A man in a top hat stands in the center of a giant tent, his curlicue mustache as delicate as his voice is strong. “Prepare to be amazed. Prepare to be wowed. Allow us to entertain you with sights you’ve never seen, horses whose feats will astound you, and death-defying acrobatics!”

On this first night open to the public, the crowd stands in a swarm of shouts and applause.

I stay seated and jot down some quick notes for the Truman High Tribune. Or at least that’s what I’m pretending to do. In actuality, it’s taking all my energy just to be civil.

“I just don’t see why you had to invite her.”

From his standing position, Luke glances down. “Are we back to that again?”

“You and I are working on the carnival story. Not Ashley.” Ashley Timmons, a new girl who joined the newspaper staff last week, has become my least favorite person on the planet. She’s not quite as awful as those on the top of that list—namely the handful of people who’ve tried to do me bodily harm over the last year. But icky nonetheless. Fresh from Kansas City with her brother, Ashley thinks she’s God’s gift to prose. She’s disgustingly cute, and worst of all, she’s Luke’s ex-girlfriend. She only moved away for two years, but I can tell she’s ready to rekindle anything they used to have. It doesn’t take a keen reporter’s intuition to see that. Just anyone with at least one working eyeball.

“We’ve hung out with them all week, Luke.”

“I haven’t seen Kyle in a long time, and he’ll be leaving soon for college.” Luke searches my face. “I’ve included you in everything. Have you felt left out?”

“No.” I just want her left out. I don’t mind the return of his friend Kyle at all. But where Kyle is . . . there you’ll find his sister. “Tonight isn’t about hanging out with your friend though. He’s not even here. You invited Ashley for the paper.”

“You’ve been ticked at me ever since your last article. But it was weak on verbs and lacked your usual creativity.” He sits down and trains those intense eyes on mine.

“Yeah, and then you proceeded to show me some piece of writing wonderment your new recruit produced.” Ashley came with glowing recommendations from her old journalism teachers. Everyone on our staff thinks she is, like, the greatest thing to writing since the delete key. Everyone but me.

“You know what your problem is, Bella? Number one, you’re jealous and insecure—”

“Of her?” I toss my hair and laugh. “Maybe I just don’t like the way she’s thrown herself at you from the second she stepped into the classroom. I’m not insecure, but I’m also not stupid.”

Luke’s mouth twitches. “I meant insecure of your writing abilities. But now that you mention it, you probably are jealous of my talking to her. That would fit.”

“Fit what?” A band of clowns ride unicycles in the ring, but I don’t even bother to watch.

“It would fit with the Bella Kirkwood pattern.” He lifts a dark brow. “You are completely distrusting of the entire male species. I guess one couldn’t blame you, given your dad’s history and your experience with your ex, but I have no desire to get back with an old girlfriend.”

“This is outrageous. I do not have trust issues with guys! And you know what else?”

“I’m dying to hear more.”

“I think you’re enjoying all the attention from Ashley.” All Luke and I have done is fight lately. While digging into other people’s business might be my spiritual gift, I’m beginning to think arguing comes second.

“Ever since we’ve been together, you’ve balked at my every comment in journalism. You can’t stand to be criticized—even when it’s for your own good. And”—his blue eyes flash—“you’re just waiting for me to cheat on you like Hunter. You think I don’t see that?”

Hunter would be my ex-boyfriend from Manhattan. This past fall I caught him doing the tongue tango with my former best friend Mia. And then not too long ago I considered getting back with him. He swept me up with this new version of Hunter Penbrook, told me he had started going to church, said all the right things, bought me coffee. It’s a little hard to resist a cute guy bearing a mocha latte with extra whip, you know? Luckily, at prom two weeks ago I saw the light and let that rotten fish off my hook.

“I’m not worried about you cheating on me, Luke. I’m tired of you bossing me around and acting all ‘I’m in charge.’”

“I am in charge. I’m the editor.”

“Not of our relationship.”

“I’m back!” Ashley chooses that very moment to flounce back to her seat. “I got you a cotton candy.” She hands the pink confection to Luke. “Bella, I figured you’re like most girls and need to watch your weight, so I didn’t get you anything. What’d I miss?”

Luke holds me down with his arm. “Don’t even think about it,” he whispers.

The crowd oohs and ahhhs as the Amazing Alfredo begins juggling two long silver swords. I applaud politely when he pulls a third one out of his hat and tosses it into the air with the rest. I’d hate to think where that sword was really hiding.

Like a distant relative, the Fritz Family Carnival comes to Truman, Oklahoma, every April and sets up camp on land that, I’m told, goes way back in the Fritz genealogy. They stay at least a month—working on additional routines, training new employees, giving the local elementary teachers a nice afternoon field trip—and don’t leave until they can ride out bigger and better than the year before. And while that might be odd, it’s nothing compared to the fact that I’m sitting on the bleachers between my boyfriend and a girl who has been openly flirting with him. This is a chick who needs to learn some boundaries.

“Bella, Luke said you might need some help with your article.”

He holds up a hand. “I just thought it would be interesting to get our three perspectives. Bella will still handle the interviews.”

“It’s been so great to work with you again, Luke.” Ashley’s smile could charm the shirt off Robert Pattinson. “Just like old times, huh?” Her eyes gaze into his. Like I’m not even there. “Kyle’s really enjoyed hanging out. Too bad he had a study session tonight.”

Luke leans close, his mouth poised near my ear. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean I’m going to slack off on your writing. You’re still a staff member. And you know I do not boss you around any other time. I have been nothing but respectful to you.” He returns his attention to the ring. “Did you write down the fat lady’s stats?”

“Of course I did.” I scribble something illegible on my paper. No, I didn’t get her stats. I’m too busy fighting.

“She’s seven hundred and twenty-nine pounds, in case you missed it,” Ashley chirps.

“Thanks.” Lord, help me be kind to this girl.

“You always act like I can’t handle the writing assignments,” I whisper for Luke’s ears only. “I think I have more than proven I can. Not only can I write, but I can crank out some award-winning writing while crime solving.”

After I moved to Truman, I accidentally became the Nancy Drew of Oklahoma. Now that I’m known for my mystery solving skills, friends and strangers want me to help them out. Just last week I tracked down a stolen iPhone and did a little spying for a suspicious girlfriend who thought her boyfriend Buster was cheating. It’s true he hadn’t been going to football practice like he said; I found him at Margie Peacock’s School of Ballet, lined up on the bar doing pirouettes and high kicks. I hear he makes a heck of a swan in Margie’s recital.

“I’m not doubting your writing skills.” Luke claps as the magician leaves, and Betty the Bearded Lady bows before starting her performance.

I’m transfixed by the hair on her face, and it suddenly makes me feel a whole lot less self-conscious about the fact that I didn’t shave my legs last night. The audience claps in time to the spirited music as the woman’s collie jumps through her hula hoop then dances to the beat on its hind legs.

I shoot a pointed look at his old flame. “Let’s talk about this later.”

Ashley reaches around me and puts her hand on Luke’s knee. “I forgot—I have my latest assignment on my laptop in the car. You told me to spice up my verbs, and I revised it. I wanted you to look at it.” She returns to clapping for the Bearded Lady.

“Yes, Luke. She wants you to check out her spicy verbs.”

“At least she takes constructive criticism well.” His voice is just low enough for me to hear.

“That girl wants you back. Period.”

“I’m not Hunter. And I’m not your dad.”

“I have to go interview Betty the Bearded Lady.” And I stomp down the bleachers to find her trailer outside. When I glance back, Ashley has scooted down.

And taken my place.

*******

That’s all for now! Stay tuned for more. And don’t forget to leave me your Race for the Cure t-shirt slogan ideas! Winners announced Friday.

Have a great week-

JEN

Student 1: My favorite possession is a stuffed pig.
Student 2: You should upgrade it with an automatic oinker.

Student 3: My phone has texting. Which keeps me from being a social outcast.

Student 4: I’m not Catholic, but my rosary beads…they make me feel kinda Jesus-y.

Student 5: My favorite possession is my Chap-Stick. Who knew such a small tube of goop could be so wonderful?

Student 6: (Guy student, athlete) My favorite possession are my shoes. Those who know me, know I’m like a chick when it comes to shoes.

Student 6: My baseball shoes are my favorite. They never let me down when I want to break someone’s ankles and make them go cry to mommy.

Me to Kids: What was your favorite TV show as a young kid?
Responses:
Dexter’s Laboratory
Sponge Bob
Scooby Doo
Cat Dog
Law and Order

(Overheard conversation in class)
“What’s your last name?”
“McBride.”
“Do you spell that with a K?”

(Overheard conversation in class while students were preparing a skit.)
“So it’s like we man-hug and then we’re done.”

Me: If you could go back to any period in time, what would it be?
Student 1: Dinosaur days. I’d have a dino rodeo.

Me: What’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen? For example, one of mine would be Daredevil. It was so bad, it was entertaining. Like I called people and told them to see it.
Student: I think you called me.

Me: You woke up with a super power today. What is it?
Student 1: I’d have a twelve-gauge for an arm.
Student 2: Bed vision. With one beam from my eyes, a bed would pop out.
Student 3: I’d want to talk to fish.
Student 4: Super tiredness.
Me: You want to be tired?
Student 4: Super wake-up-ness
Student 5: The one where you touch touch and it turns into Skittles
Student 3: What if you hug your girlfriend? Do you have to wear gloves?
Student 6: The power to go back to bed.
Student 7: The power to get chicks.

Me: I brought some candy to give you guys.
Student: Is it good candy or is it grandma candy?
Me: What’s grandma candy?
Student: Like butterscotch
Me: Good candy (as I smile remembering the bowl of butterscotch always on my grandma’s counter.)

From a student’s paper:
“Too much homework makes me want to crawl into an oven until I’m burned to a crisp.”

Me: Who is your least favorite singer?
Nick: Preston. He’s horrible in the shower.
Me: (Laughing) THAT is not appropriate.
Nick: I meant in the locker room.

Me: What is your speech topic on?
Student 1: How to make a computer game.
Student 2 (indecipherable whispering to Student 1)
Student 1: How to make a computer GAME. Not how to make a computer gay.

Aren’t they cute?  If you would like this kind of entertainment, you can sub for me ANY TIME. The closer they get to Spring Break, the more well behaved and studious they get….really… I would never lie about that.
I hope you have a fabulous weekend.

JEN

This weekend I braved it and went to Wal-Mart. The parking lot was full of class and entertainment.

And my personal favorite…

Has anyone seen Shutter Island? I think I might want to see it. I had no interest in it. Couldn’t even watch the commercials. But then I found out the previews are misleading–it’s not a horror movie. Not supernaturally twisted at all. It’s a mystery. If you’ve seen it and can swear on your next Twinkie that I won’t be watching this with my fingers over my face, please confirm this intel. Because I find it hard to believe watching this flick won’t make me feel like I took all the forces of evil home with me in my purse. Where I keep the contraband drinks and snacks.

File this under “things I care absolutely nothing about,” but I had roasted asparagus for the first time this weekend. I hate asparagus, but Awesome Editor Jamie had been telling me how great it was. I rarely believe rants that begin, “You’re going to love this vegetable…” But I finally gave it a try. And I’m happy to report eating it did not produce projectile vomit. And that’s how you spell success. I liked it enough that I wrote a little haiku in it’s honor. Goes a little something like this:

I thought you’d be gross
Because you usually are
Kind of like Aunt Marge.

This weekend was my brother’s birthday.  We had a big family dinner and ate like pigs. As I sit here I’m really regretting not taking home some cake. My mother raised me better than that. You know you’re getting old when nobody takes your picture on your b-day. If no one brings out the camera for my next birthday, I’m totally gonna be ready and take tons of pictures myself. Birthdays for my brother and me are always a time to reminisce. Like how he’s the favorite child. And how there’s a stack of photo albums of him in the living room. And half of one with me. And he’s in most of the pictures. My brother also has a well documented baby book. I have a baby book that started out well, but doesn’t really have much in it. I think you open it and it says something like, “Brought the baby home. Proud of her big brother for not smothering her with the pillow.”

This week we are doing how-to speeches. This means any attempts on my part to resist sugar in the form of brownies, chocolate chip cookies, and random unidentifiable crap will be useless. A good friend of mine taught speech and never would eat what the kids brought because it grossed her out. I wish I had that elevated sense of sanitation and hygiene.  But I don’t. I’ve eaten some scary stuff. But lived to tell about it. And that’s what keeps me coming back for more. If I die of bacterial poisoning from a kid’s no-bake cookie, at least I died happy.

You see it all during speeches. I always harp on them to pick something they care about or else they’ll do a sucky speech. Last year I had to sit through a videoed speech about skinning squirrels. I thought I was going to lose my mind. And my breakfast. And of course the speech went over the time limit by 12 minutes. Twelve extra minutes of squirrel skinning. Graded by me–the girl who has a moment of reflective silence for every lump of roadkill I pass on the highway.

I hope you have a fabulous week!

JEN

So I told you about my super talented student who is bound to write/act for Saturday Night Live. But I gave you the wrong link for her funny blog that documents her year in a Chicago inner-city school. I’m just glad she came back alive. And not selling crack. You can see the blog (for real this time) HERE. I just had to share some of her writing brilliance.

“All things beautiful must crash and burn and die a horrible screaming death before they can become beautiful again… that’s not a real saying or anything… that’s just how I felt on Monday morning.

I loved this funny story about her crappy boss at her part-time job:
He was (believe it or not) carrying on a civilized conversation with me, when he says “You know, I have a second job. You’ll never guess what it is, though, because it’s so different than this place.” He gestures to the wall of stuffed animals.

I, being stupid (as usual) and not knowing when humor isn’t welcome, say “HAH that would be freaking hilarious if it were, like, teaching Tae kwon Do or something! HA! That would be so funny.”

He teaches Tae Kwon Do. And he doesn’t think it’s that funny.

Or:
Right when you think the worst is over, life is like “Um, NO”, and decides to throw you another curve ball. This wouldn’t be so bad if, perhaps, you were athletically inclined or something. Which I am NOT.

So I’m sitting in class 091, (after a whirlwind of panic) and I’m wondering if maybe I small bad or something, because nobody is sitting within four feet of me on either side. Instead, they’ve all, like, clumped together, discussing the latest drama of the summer. ( And this time, by drama, I DO mean the oh-no-you-didn’t-just-steal-my-boyfriend-you-skank kind.)

Part of me is glad I’m not caught up in that, but the other part of me is kinda wishing I had stolen somebody’s boyfriend, just so I would have somebody to talk too.

So yeah, she’s brilliantly talented. If I had had 1/10th of that writing magic when I was her age. Well, by now I’d be selling my Pulitzer’s at garage sales just to “downsize” the collection. I’m very proud of this girl.

Did you know there are 1000 bacteria in a bowl of salsa after three to six dips of your chip? According to SHAPE magazine, it’s the germ equivalent of kissing everyone at a party. For the sake of salsa? This doesn’t bother me at all.

Thanks to my friend Jocelyn for leading me to this commercial.

It’s like The Odyssey. For cats. It’s also like someone was on crack cocaine when they created that.

And thanks to my good friend Rhonda for finding this fun site of book inscriptions. Isn’t that so interesting? I love reading inscriptions in used books.

My friend Snow Lovin’ Holly is a math teacher and sent me this IM last week: One of my kids has programmed one of my class calculators……every answer is now BOOB…… Gotta love those graphing calculators.

I know most people don’t care about this–especially the type of people who read Christian fiction–but Steven Tyler has reunited with Aerosmith. Thus the band will live to release 10 more Greatest Hits albums. Seriously, that’s all they put out. It drives me nuts. But I am relieved they are back together. Because when Joe Perry hurts, I hurt. May the mike scarves forever wave.

Remember Sleep Talking Man? Thanks to my friend, Salle, for guiding me to his blog. You can keep up with his nightly musings HERE. “Step away from the yam.”  I can’t tell you how many times I’m looking for just the right phrase and “stay away from the yam” is the only thing that will do. And check out his line of products on the blog. I personally like the tshirt that says: Squid Wrestling. It’s all Tentacles and No Substance. It would go nicely on the underwear he sells.

Finally, I want to tell you about a cool new Christian site for teens (and non-teens like me).

It’s called Clash Entertainment. And it’s a great place for teens (and parents) to go for reviews of books, movies, and music. There’s comics, articles, games, and all sorts of great links. The goal is to provide a safe source for teens to go for their entertainment needs, lift up God, and just create community. You can check it out HERE.
Have a great weekend!

JEN

I just bought the weirdest looking alarm clock ever. In fact, every time I look at it, I “see” something different–none of it appropriate. It looks like when the Stark Trek TV show got canceled and cleared out the set, this is what was left.

So I have fought the battle of the curtains in my bedroom for a few years. After a lot was cleared and a house went up, suddenly a street light was not just newly visible, but turned its high beams right into my window. I mean it was like sleeping at the end of an airport runway. So my blinds needed some help. Over the next few years, I go through the process of trying out about 50 sets of curtains to block the light. Finally I find something that works. But maybe a little too well. Now when my alarm goes off at 5:00 (and 5:30…and 6:00…and 6:30….), I wake up to a room that’s black as the bottom of a coal mine.

And it’s almost impossible to get up. If it weren’t for the fact that I like the occasional paycheck, I probably wouldn’t even bother. But I had decided, after reading some confirming research, that my brain gets confused without any light in the morning and does everything it can to stay in “sleep” mode. Thus. . .the Sunrise Clock.

The Sunrise Clock doesn’t just wake up you with optional beeping. It wakes you up with gradual light, supposedly simulating the rising sun. (I held my face over it for 30 minutes, but I cannot report a tan. Of course I could hold my face over a blow torch and still not report a tan.) To me this little (or kinda big actually) gadget makes perfect sense. At least until I can afford remote control blackout blinds set on a timer as seen in Cameron Diaz’s house in the movie The Holiday.

So this morning is the Sunrise Clock’s debut. At 5:30 the light slowly comes on. And it gets a little brighter over the course of next 30 minutes. At least I think it did. I wouldn’t know. Because you know how you sleep through your fancy new Sunrise Clock? You pull the covers over your head. No more light!  So yeah, back to the drawing board.

What is your wake-up routine?  Mine is to hit snooze on my radio alarm for a solid hour. And I never get up during a song. That’s just rude and disrespectful to the artist. I wait until I hear the news. Then the weather. Then three more songs. Then some DJ banter. And I don’t roll out of bed until:
1. A commercial for Wild Harry’s Used Cars
2. My cat barfs on something
3. a song comes on that uses the words “I didn’t see that semi coming.”
It’s my system. And it works. Sorta.

Would love to hear your morning routine. Surely someone’s has to be worse than mine.

JEN

So two stars aligned this weekend, and this resulted in me hopping in the car, alone, with a suitcase, my Bible, and a laptop. I discovered some time ago that a Christian speaker with a small, but national ministry I’ve been watching was going to be in this middle-of-nowhere town in north Arkansas. AND I needed some time away from my crack called Internet to really knock out some pages on the book I’m writing. Initially a few friends were gonna go with me to see said speaker, but that fizzled out. So I thought, “I’ll go by myself to this rural town in Arkansas I’ve never even seen in my entire life. I’ll get my brother’s GPS and go stay in a B and B and just lock myself in over the weekend and write, write, write!”  And it really did sound like a good idea. In fact, on paper, it was pretty close to brilliant.

So I drive and drive and drive all Friday afternoon.

I passed the town that boasts the locally famous diner Sparky’s.

This became the name of a diner in So Not Happening, though in that book the restaurant got moved to Tulsa. I actually didn’t have a good eating experience here, so I don’t know why I decided to honor them with a mention. They should totally pay me. In cheese burgers.

So anyway, I drove, drove, drove. And as I watched my cell reception bars dwindle, this is pretty much all I saw the last hour of the trip.

Then I arrive in Jasper, Arkansas (population 488), where I’m going to stay.

It reminded me of Northern Exposure.

Especially because if you look down the street, you see huge snow-topped mountains in the distance. I expected a moose to walk down the road any moment. The B and B was over the Ozark Cafe restaurant. I get up there, and the room is great. Truly. But the view?

In their defense, people don’t stay here to hang out. They stay here to have a bed when they hunt or fish. Or write a book without the luxury of wi-fi.

Except for the fact that the bed didn’t have a level spot on it, the bedroom was really nice.

I thought the bath/dining area was a smart combination.

The only thing better than a dining room table within reach of your tub would be a mini-fridge.

The town was quite rural. But with metropolis little touches like this.

I totally related to Emma’s Museum of Junk. I think I’m gonna start calling my “linen closet” the same thing.

I’m guessing this is an old movie theater.

Anyway, I check in Friday night and hit the road again to make it to the even SMALLER town, where the speaker is at. On that 25 minute drive, I didn’t pass more than 5 cars. And I had zero cell phone reception. None. And my GPS, who I decided to call KITT, was USELESS. It’s very, very curvy (like barf bag curvy) over there, and more than once KITT would say, “Take a left. TAKE  A LEFT!” And I’m like, “KITT, if I take a left, I’m going off the side of a mountain.”  And yes, I did say this out loud. Because when you go by yourself to Jasper, AR, you kind of get desperate for someone to talk to. Even GPS systems who want you dead.

Did I mention it’s VERY rural in this part of the country? Like check out these people’s back yard.

So I get to the church. And it’s tiny. But super friendly. (Like the pastor remembered my name the next day. My own pastor doesn’t even know my name.)  Do the church thing. Go back to Jasper. To the “B and B.” And I’m exhausted. So no writing happens. I go to bed. And at 4 am…I’m still awake.  I could NOT sleep. First of all, the bed was some weird blob of memory foamness. And then I was the ONLY one staying at this place. And did I mention I didn’t have cell service? And I was still thinking about the tub/table combination. And they had cable channels I didn’t (no phone, but they have HGTV!), and it was kinda creepy. And I wondered if somebody came in to get me, would they toss my lifeless body over the balcony and into the collection of boxes below? And it’s an ancient building, so it made lots of creaky noises. And there weren’t blinds on the bedroom window that faced the box dumpster. And no matter what I did, I couldn’t get to sleep. And at 2 am, I had the entire plot for a novel that was going to simultaneously change the world and make me rich and famous.  By 2:45 I had completely forgotten it. At 2:59 I sat straight up in bed and said, “Omigosh! It’s Adam Lambert! Adam Lambert sings that one song!”

And did you know at 3 am you can watch reruns of Modern Family? At at 3:30 there are at least three channels simultaneously running infomercials for Girls Gone Wild. (I’m not sure, but I think I saw one of our principal’s on there.)  And I knew by 4 am that I would NOT be staying the whole weekend and getting lots of writing done. Because it’s hard to achieve lots of writing when you can’t even accomplish a little sleep.

So I got up that morning and went to the cafe below for breakfast. Which honestly was the most awesome part of my trip. As part of my B and B stay, I could order anything I want. (For someone obsessed with food, do you have any idea what kind of sick thrill this gives me?) I got an omelet the size of my table.

It was supposed to have onions and sausage in it. And it did. Like WHOLE sausage patties. With the egg just flopped over it. It was like an egg blanket for a whole roll of Jimmy Dean.  And at least half a red onion. I kinda ate around that. And the cafe was a place where “everybody knows your name.” I wanted to stay there longer. It was some great people watching. There was one table of about 10 folks, age 20 something to 70 something, clearly not related, and they were regulars, as they sang happy birthday to the waitress, who they knew by name. I really wanted to know what their connection was. I was gonna ask the waitress, but I didn’t get a chance to. So I decided they had all probably seen Big Foot in the surrounding hills, but nobody believed them, so they had made a club who met over breakfast every Saturday morning. Except I didn’t hear them talking about Big Foot. But I did hear one guy talking about his prostate.

On my way home, I saw the remains of what used to be Dog Patch USA. If you were a child of the 70s or early 80s you might’ve heard of this place. It was an amusement park in the middle of nowhere (though a beautiful part of the middle of nowhere), and most kids who lived in Arkansas went at least once. It was supposed to give Disney a run for it’s money. I don’t think Disney had to even speed walk to keep up. Here it is before:

And after:

That picture really doesn’t do the decay justice. I didn’t even know what I was taking a picture of until I got home and Snow Loving Holly told me. It’s so depressing to see things from your childhood decay. Like theme parks. And the elasticity around your eyeballs.

So I fearlessly went on a road trip by myself. Then I not so fearlessly returned. No writing done. But I did get a firm picture in my head for the setting for my next YA series. And I spent some quality time with Blackie the Honda and KITT the deadly GPS.

Northern Arkansas–a great place to hunt. Or hide a dead body.

As a speech teacher, it’s vitally important that I communicate in an exemplary fashion to model the appropriate behavior for my students.  I must strive to enunciate correctly, to speak with quality content. To verbalize with precision as I lead young lives.
Yesterday I was reading the announcements aloud to my 9thgrade class. I got to one about a CHEER meeting. But here’s what came out of my mouth:
“There will be a beer meeting Monday, March 15th. . .”      So if that meeting has better-than-usual turnout, they have me to thank.

I haven’t watched much of the Olympics, but I caught a news piece on something called Skeleton Racing. Have you seen this event? I mean, seriously? It’s basically like climbing on a sled in order to zip to your death. These people go like 80 mph. On a sled. Head first.  For some reason, if I’m racing toward an imminent, crashy death, I want to go feet first.

So our big contender in the skeleton race is Noelle Pikus-Pace.  She got knocked out of the Olympics four years ago (literally) by a bobsled. As in it took her out. She now has a steel bar in her calf. I know MYfirst thought would be gimme some more of that. How does one even get started in that career? Because my friend Snow Loving Holly is the best sledder I know, so I want to nominate her. And unlike Noelle Pikus Pace, she doesn’t have any bionic parts. That I know of.

There is a great interview with Francine Rivers over at PASTimes blog. Hop over and give it a read AND get in the running for a copy of the fabulous Redeeming Love.

I’ve mentioned before that I taught a girl a few years ago who is pretty much brilliant. She wants to be a SNL actor-writer, and I really believe she’s on her way. She’s trained with Second City in Chicago, and she’s such a gifted writer. You can check out her blog HERE.  And definitely check it out HERE. After receiving a grade she thought was unfairly low on a writing assignment, this student created a top ten list for writers. Check out her wisdom.

The Top Ten Things A Writer Must Know In Order To Write Good

1. A good writer must be very detailed and specific.
(That’s pretty much it for number one.)

2. A good writer needs a strong vocabulary.
In other words, a writer should kinda talk good. People who write stuff should, like, use big words or whatever. There, like, shouldn’t be anything that sounds totally lame.

3. A good writer should paint pictures with words.
Like…instead of with paint and stuff…

4. A good writer knows how to take criticism.
Unless you don’t like what’s being said. Then you can just do whatever.

5. A good writer can find humor in everything.
Because sometimes humor is 100% necessary. . . unless you’re talking to your mom. . .because then you’ll just get grounded.

6. A good writer knows when to be serious…
NAH! Forget THAT!

7. A good writer reads frequently.
Magazines and DVD subtitles totally count.

8. A good writer practices.
Practices clogging, practices Yiddish, practices whatever. . .you get what I mean.

9. A good writer finds inspiration in everything
Like pasta. Or Canada.

And finally. . .

10. A good writer can make up a list of ten things just to make themselves feel like a better writer.

I can’t wait to say, “I knew her when.”  Especially when she gets me front row tickets to SNL.

For those of you who write, got anything to add to that brilliance? I would add: A good writer must know that the amount of chocolate she consumes is directly proportional to her creative output. As is the quality of her sweats.  What about you?

Hope you have a great rest of the week.

JEN

Happy Monday!  Congrats to Gretchen, the winner of Lisa Wingate’s Never Say Never. (Gretchen, email me your home addy: jen at jennybjones dot com)

Did everyone have a good Valentine’s Day? I did! I always do. Any day that involves celebrating with candy or a dinner out is my kind of holiday.

This weekend my girls and I celebrated my friend Kim’s birthday. She’s one year younger than me, so I think she’s 25. (Right Kim?)  Anyway, when it’s your b-day, you get to pick the outing. So Kim wanted to see Dear John. She has been looking forward to this movie forever. And its’ not because she’s a sold out Sparks fan. I think it has more to do with being a sold out Channing Tatum fan. He’s an interesting actor to watch on screen. And by that I mean I haven’t decided to what extent he can’t act. But he had some decent acting moments in this flick, but does anyone really care if he can act? I didn’t think so.

The movie was okay. I haven’t read the book because I intentionally don’t read Nicholas Sparks because someone ALWAYS dies. I have two good friends who LOVE his books pretty much because of this, and they were always trying to get me to read him. I resisted. So they said, “You HAVE to read this one book. It’s so good. And we promise–not a single person dies in it!”  So to appease them, I take the book home. About half way through it hits me what’s going to happen. The freakin’ DOG is gonna die. Sure enough in the end, the dog bites it. I was SOOO ticked. An animal dying? Even worse.

Anyway, so I’m not a fan, but it was Kim’s birthday, and if she had said, “Let’s go to Nascar, get tattoos, and eat brats,” I would’ve agreed to it. It was her day. One fun thing to know about Kim is that in high school she had a date to go to the drive-in.  He rolls up to her house in his van. With a couch in the back. Kim was not allowed out of the house with this boy.

So the movie was okay. It was actually a good one for a little Mystery Science Theater running commentary. (Reason No. 29458 to never sit beside me in a movie.)   I think some things must not have transferred from the book to the screen because I had a few “huh?” moments. But honestly I think any book-inspired movie is a success as long as it doesn’t star Robert Pattinson, Kristen Stewart, or any member of the original 90210 gang.

Last week I also saw When in Rome. Avoid! Avoid! It’s a total renter. Did anyone see Lightning Thief this weekend?

Favorite blogger Green Bean Teen Queen has such a good question of the week up.  She wants to know who your literary crush is. You definitely need to hop over and share who your favorite man-of-the-pages is.

There’s a campaign on Facebook to get Betty White on Saturday Night Live as the host. This is brilliant on someone’s part. And about the only thing on Facebook that makes sense these days.

Eighties kids, remember Sweet Valley High? Well guess who’s coming back? Author Francine Pascal is releasing Sweet Valley Confidential in 2011, a book that picks up the lives of Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield in their late 20s and early 30s. You know– old.  Reading this news didn’t make me happy like the article said it would. It totally depressed me. The kids of SWH are not in their 30s. They’re still teens. Young. Like the rest of us. I need to believe they are living in some time/space continuum where they still tuck-roll their jeans, Madonna doesn’t have Hulk arms, and the eye shadow is still blue with an extra dose of frosty.

Okay, there is a new Kay Jeweler’s commercial and…it’s actually good. Have you seen it? I can’t find it anywhere and it’s driving me nuts. It’s the one where the guy accidentally drops to one knee, has a catch in his leg, and thinks, “Well, as long as I’m down here, I might as well propose.”  If you find it, please send it my way!  I also can’t find a link to We Are the World Part Deux.  My friend Salle has been obsessed with We Are the World pretty much her whole life. In fact, she has had the redo planned forever, including assigning all the parts. She even wrote the Super Bowl folks and pitched her idea. I’m really sad that she didn’t get the credit for her genius. She should totally get a cut of that donation money. ; )

I would love to know what you gave or received for Valentine’s Day.  Lemme know!

JEN