Maybe God Is Tryna Tell You Something Right Now

There is always a come to Jesus moment, y’all.  That moment when God has had just about enough of your shenanigans and He is not playing anymore.

For Josh Morrow, that moment came last night.

But let me back up.

It is the magical time of year affectionately known as Morrowpalooza (by everyone, it’s internationally recognized). The time when all our birthdays happen within four days and then, just when you hoped thought it was done, BAM. Wedding anniversary.

5thAnniversary

This is us on our 5th wedding anniversary. (Pauses for “you were babieeeeeees!”) That night, we went to the movies to celebrate our anniversary properly. By seeing The Simpsons movie. Alas, that did not go to plan, for you see, the building was infested with BATS.

Okay, there was one bat. But that one bat was in our theatre. Here’s why I’m telling you this. Because for years – literally for the past nine years since – Josh has been besmirching my good name, claiming it was I who threw a fit. I who did not understand there was even a bat there for a minute. (I feel it’s relevant here to say I went to UCSC and lived at Porter and went into the woods at night and also was swept over by a murder/gaggle/epiphany/whatever of bats and did not scream. Just gonna set that down right there.) Josh on the other hand, threw his arm across me, bellowing, “JUST STAY CALM!”

Me:

Confusion

Now, you’re probably thinking, “Okay, maybe he thought you were scared.” To which I can only say, “He eventually left me in the theatre alone with the bat.”

So.

Yeah, the thing was diving and dipping and generally sending my poor, terrified husband into a lather, and so he ran to get the TEENAGE USHER because of course that kid was trained for bat removal. (He wasn’t.) And when I say, “went to get,” I mean: tore down the steps with his hands covering his head. My poor Joshie.

The bat eventually sped out into the corridor while another movie was letting out and screaming ensued, which was the end of our entertainment for the evening for you see, when the movie came on, there was no audio. They restarted the movie and about ten minutes or so in, the audio dropped out again. So they basically destroyed my first viewing of The Simpsons Movie. (For which I’ll never forgive them.)

And as an aside, when I said it was the end of our entertainment for the evening, I wasn’t counting the fact that we got FULLY lost on the way home (we were somewhere near Vancouver, Washington, where we are not from nor have we ever lived) and ended up on a road near what looked like an abandoned college where I’m assuming a group of sorority sisters slayed a bunch of demons.

SO!

Josh has never (NEH-VORE) admitted to any of this. Not even to our closest friends. He claims his memory is of me being really upset and him having to run and get help so I didn’t completely lose it. (Please see above gif.)

So Jesus was finally like, “That’s enough of that.”

Our 14th wedding anniversary is tomorrow. [Insert all the pictures of us smooching.] We are far (faaaaaar) from Vancouver, Washington, in a place that you don’t know exists until you get here. The bat debacle is many years on, never to be put to rest. Or so we thought.

Last night, Joshie and I were hanging out, taking in the rural sights, swatting mosquitoes as one does. Neither of us aware of the divine judgment on its way.

“I think that’s a bat,” Josh said. I looked around but saw nothing, and went back to our conversation. At some point, Josh ventured off to get a closer look at some angus cow pups horsing around in the fading light of sunset.

And that’s when it happened.

The bat flew over Josh’s head, turned and swooped at him, and Josh. lost. his. mind. Yelled, “I hate bats!” (But wait, Josh. I thought I was afraid…)

Here is an artist’s rendering of his escape:

run

It was glorious. For real.

Best anniversary present ever.

Steel Morrow…glias

So the hubs and I just celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary! (Sidebar for TRUF: Thank God for His grace, hallelujah and AMEN!) And this has been pretty exciting because for some reason – and let’s not argue with it, shall we? – the eleventh anniversary is steel.

O_O

That’s. AWESOME. For true. I mean, there are so many things you can do with that. Superman references. …And other stuff, I’m sure. I actually considered getting a bouquet of magnolias. And dipping them in steel. Because…diabetes, I guess. Anyway, I ended up going a different direction but I think we can all agree, it was a completely reasonable consideration.

And since I know you guys so well, I’m just gonna give ya whatcha really want. Pictures of us.

Hey Josh, 'member when your ring wouldn't go on.

Hey Josh, ‘member when your ring wouldn’t go on.

No matter what...ya gotta strut.

No matter what…ya gotta strut.

Love lift us up. Amiritie.

Love lift us up. Amirite.

❤ ❤ ❤

For serious, tho. Yay! Eleven years, one wonderful son, three countries, three graduations (Josh, you’re only in the lead for now!), a grillion pictures, innumerable memories and each other.

Someone said, “Here’s to eleven more!” …and while I totally get the sentiment, I think we’re gonna shoot a little higher. 😉

Eleventy Queries

So, the other part of that lovely award granted by the Pen Punks was a set of questions.

1. What is your biggest personal achievement?

My family. My hubby, little boy, me family. ❤
2. Do you have a goal for this year? If so, what is it?
Who…has no goals… just out of curiosity. Lol – yes, I have a goal. I want to hold on to what I’ve realized through my recent re-vision (yep, Imma be obnoxious and keep saying it thusly – HAH, see that, Jen?!). I want to be ever more courageous in my work. Actually, in all aspects of life, though it’ll look different depending on the area.
3. If you could pick any imaginary world (from novels/movies) to live in, which would it be and why?
Weeell. I’d love to see if I have what it takes for Battle School… otherwise, I’m a loyalist. We’ve talked about this before. I am bound to my world, my people, etc. I always root for the human, haha. So while I looove so many imaginary worlds (esp sci-fi), I don’t care to be in them. I like reality. (Is this a huge disappointment coming from a writer?)
4. If you could spend a day with any celebrity, whom would you choose and why?
Well, I’d love to spend a day with: Toni Morrison (obvious reasons – I already know I love to hear her talk thanks to multiple episodes of Charlie Rose); Bill Cosby; Charles Stanley. These are people I want to hear speak, up close, before their time is done.
5. What’s the last book you read that surprised you?
Speaker for the Dead – and YES, I’M STILL ON PAUSE BECAUSE IT’S SO OVERWHELMINGLY GOOD. And yes, every page, it seems, is a surprise. Just. The crafting. The clarity. The worlds. Gah.
I’d say Invisible Man surprised me, as well, in a different and yet similar way. I cried. I don’t know that I’ve literally, physically cried before while reading a book. I can be moved and carried aWAY by literature without physical tears falling – but they did. It was brilliant. Brilliant.
6. What’s your favorite game show to watch, and would you actually want to be a contestant on it?
I guess Wheel of Fortune? I really can’t be sure, I just know I loved playing that on the computer back in the time of floppy disks. 😀
7. If you could pick any novel besides your own to be made into a movie, which would it? Why?
Well, Ender’s Game is coming out soon. 😀 ICANTEVEN.
8. What is your favorite YouTube Video?
That. Is a weird question, hahaha. If we’re talking representative videos (like music videos, whether homemade or professional) than it depends on what mood/season/stage of the writing process I’m in. I’m loving Hammock right now, if I haven’t been clear enough – and there are full albums on YouTube.
If it’s just ridiculous clips. Too many. #TooMany
9. What is a book you hate but wish you liked?
I’m sorry, I cannot. I can talk about films, shows, music by name when I hate it but I can’t with books. Except that one time, but it so doesn’t fit this question. I like it just as much as I wanted to.
10. Who is one of your favorite philosophers?
Way too loaded of a question. With far too many qualifiers. I will choose Herbert Marcuse and spare you all the diatribe of why and why not.

11. Where do you do your best thinking about deep questions?

On my bed, when I’m comfy with ice water and my laptop. Or near water – whether it’s in the bath tub, at an overlook point somewhere on West Cliff Drive, at Sentinel Point… it sort of centers on water.

This does not capture it at all. And, if you promise not to prosecute, I’ll admit that I actually did my best thinking past that bench, down a short drop to the actual cliff where you couldn’t hear much more than the waves.

Every Boy And Every Girl

Little ways I try to spice up my life that you may also try:

A) Using light gamer-speak in real life conversations so that it doesn’t seem like forever since I leveled my girl on Allods because wow this part is an infuriating grind and how come Josh has a ship and I don’t but also seriously, can we be done with the kill infinity of this or that beast quests?

Example: Calling out “wife-aggro” when I want my husband to come here.

Example 2: Saying I’m going “afk” when neither I nor the other party were at a keyboard to begin with. It’s good times.

B) Watching Elementary and finally getting to be a part of the whole Sherlock Holmes thing, which – no matter what interpretation I’d tried – I previously could NOT get into. I love Watson being Joan, I love their relationship, I love present-day crime-solving, I love Aidan Quinn (and I’ll never stop, just like he’ll always be a Ludlow). All the things. Such good television. Mmm. Not like The Following – whose second episode was admittedly better than the first but baby, that ain’t hard, and as I mentioned to a friend (so you’re seein’ this twice, yo) didn’t have to accost us with the liberal as duct tape use of cliches and so was immediately less eye-roll-inducing.

But what was I saying? Ah yes. I love Elementary. For serial. This from a woman who couldn’t even avoid irritation at the end of Guy Richie’s RDJ version. O_O (Yep. I hate when it goes all Encyclopedia Brown at the end. Shuddup. But also, let’s be friends, RDeej.)

C) Getting back into a season of hard-copy revising. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Nom. So fulfilling, I can’t even. Love it. Pencil, pen, paper, clipboard, love and so on. Does the body good. Ah. Now I’m just sighing and twirling my hair around my finger. Hm.

Mm.

 

Avert Your Eyes, Children

Well, darn it. I really thought I wasn’t going to care about Valentine’s Day. I mean, I’ve been married to the same guy for the past nine and a half years and he does something for me literally every day so why is today supposed to be any more special? Plus we’re not gonna see each other until late this evening. And Valentine’s Day is so [insert cynicism].

And then he gave me a card before he left this morning. (I can actually show you which one since it’s an Elena Original – that is not the name of her company, I should mention.)

And then I read his note – written in orange pen… methinks the blue pen he started my name with ran out? – and then I watched this video I made for him a couple years ago, after he dedicated this song to me. Which I’m now gonna share with you and Valentine’s Day is my excuse because you’re suPPOSED to care about other people’s love today! (That’s how this works, right?)

Mints and Things: World Domination (A Hubby Guest Blog)

I made mints.

They are OK. When it comes to some types of confections, having the right tools and, sad to say, the right preservatives do make a difference. However, for a first try I think they are decent. (Bethany’s Note: Decent? ::wearing a confection mustache:: They were homemade peppermint patties and they were amazeballs. Your modesty angers me.)

The only thing that I was disappointed about with this recipe is that it was very expensive. I give it a “Dang, Gina!” and raise it a “Oh no, he didn’t!”

As a matter of pride I think I have to now declare war against other mint candy makers. I will now begin my search for a factory full of oompa loompas minus the freaky 80s horror film quality. Basically, I would just hire ex-cons. They will come in handy as you will soon see.

First, I really need to focus on is a good jingle. “Eat my chocolate, eat my mints, give me your dollars, and give me your cents!” Its accurate and suggestive, I like it.

Second, I plan to follow the Ford business model and take everything over. I will start by training my ex-cons for guerilla warfare so we can take over the necessary sugar, mint and cocoa farms and factories. It’s really quite logical: first you get the sugar, then you get the power, then you get the women. (BN: I can vouch for the fact that I married him nine years ago because I knew candy would be made.)

Third, I have to eliminate the competition. Hershey’s, Mars, Nestle, Cadbury, watch your friggen backs, Muhahahahaha. I know where you sleep at night. (BN: Honey. No, you don’t. And they’re not individual people, you realize that, right?)

After I successfully take over the mint candy game, I will devote my power and wealth to eliminating the homelessness situation in America. (BN: Awwwww. ::kisses hubby while still wearing confection mustache::)

Extra Credit: See if you can get all of the movie and T.V. references and I’ll give you a free mint when I’m running ish. (BN:…the mints are gone, y’all.)

To Arms! (UPDATED)

This week in observations:

If you need Yahoo! to give you ten signs that “he’s a keeper”, you might not be. (That’s free.)

My husband who reads an agent blog – and before you say, just one?, recall that he’s not a writer and so he is awesome and supportive and precious – has written a fake query synopsis for a contest on said agent’s blog. Which he had no intention of entering – since he’s not a writer and therefore has no use for the prize – but he did graciously and magnanimously offer that I might use it myself. (I told you he was precious. Sometimes in that way southern people use it. ::taps nose::)

So the contest is for a bad logline and we’ll forgive the hubster for not knowing that a logline is not the same as a query synopsis.

An alien race has just entered earths atmosphere and they want just one thing: swine. All of them. Ham and bacon lovers around the world unite to save our taste buds, led by hot dog eating champion Dave Chester, who uses his vast stomach capacity for pork products to lead America in a fight for dietary freedom. 

First of all, let’s agree that would be no. laughing. matter.

O_O

Somebody wants to take my bacon? I think not, friends. TO ARMS!

….

(It’s about to go down.)

UPDATE: Hold on! ::holding sides, doubled over:: Hubby said he knows I didn’t post it because he went through the comment section of said blog to check. ::lmbo:: ::wipes tear:: Poor kid.

Do NOT Go In There!

Today, in things I enjoyed – otherwise known as “spit bubbles ensue: the laziest blog post evar?” – ….

OH. O_O Sorry ’bout that. Wandered off for a bit.

Nobody could not not love that.

Cake Wrecks is one of my favorite websites to forget about for like two weeks and then remember as I sit in my bed after midnight, snorting back laughter so as not to wake my husband. Aside from the hilarious wrecks, their brand of humor just matches me. (Click me. Read me. Love me.) I’ve yet to submit the story of how – two hours before my reception – the hosting venue called and let me know that my cake hadn’t yet been delivered and did I want to call the bakery. Problem being, of course, that it was their bakery what were responsible for the makification. O_O Sorry ’bout that. And don’t even get me started on the story of how they then set out a placeholder cake which, while properly decorated on the outside, was some abomination I had not requested. So after taking pictures, they proceeded to serve cake from a now-prepared-but-not-decorated proper cake in the galley.

I now feel guilty for telling that story and feel obligated to say that The Sterling Hotel was gorgeous and the Bridal Suite was smacktacular. It’s been nine years and they’ve changed hands so I don’t think they’ll care but IAMAWOMANOFMYWORD. And I have no idea what that means. But I totes am.

::spit bubbles:: As promised. SEE!

Yentl Explains It All

I still haven’t shared all my lovely loot from the wonderful USofA – most notably the whimsical dress from JCREW. O_O I. Can’t not shout when I say that name. Or think of that name. It just tingles me. And as apology for not sharing that and the WELLIES! EEE! Here’s another delightful dress picked out by the hubby.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, “Is she making that splendidly foolish expression on purpose, perhaps in jest?” And the answer, mon puce, is no. Totally unintentional, organic ugliness. Enjoy. Also, this dress now reveals itself to be a frenemie. Feeling wonderful and making me look like a tub.

Hmm. This post has taken an unfortunate turn. Let’s talk about how we in Quebec spent our 4th of July holiday, then.

It tasted like freedom, too. Mm. The goodness. We also had those red white and blue rocket pops – ‘member those?! And taught Ezra – you know that kid who sings Oh Canada – the Pledge of Allegiance. (He knew the “liberty and justice for all” part. Thanks, Evan Almighty!) We had two Canadian friends over and ate ourselves happy. It’s not a barbeque if you’re not hosting! Oh and then get into a super serious discussion. Which we did.

And as my child’s seventh birthday creeps closer (by which of course I mean I feel like a train on a perilous track, no way to stop, no way to go back, snowball that’s gathering speed down a hill, going faster and faster and faster until! TOMORRRROW NIGHT, TOMORROW NIGHT!) ::ahem:: Um.

Let’s just reconvene down here. Right, so my child is a big boy. In theory, at least, because to be honest, he still wears a size 5 and has grown vertically but not horizontally in a while. Before I got married, so you know, right around puberty, I really wasn’t one of those girls who dreamed about kids. Or marriage. Actually, I dreamed about how much I’d neglect my poor husband while I was off being a tycoon of some sort. And I don’t remember the first time I thought about kids’ names. And I don’t remember the first time that thinking about kids’ names was for real kids and not kids in one of my books. What I do remember is that whenever I even began taking into account that husbands might happen before I was 40 and said husband might want a child – I lamented that kids didn’t even seem fun after they hit like six.

So here we are in the month of my son’s seventh birthday. And lemme tell you, the novelty, she has not waned. If anything, she grows. The obsession deepens. (I’m gonna read this at your wedding, Ez. And your high school graduation. And on prom night before you and your date tear away from the house.) But here’s why:

Seriously? Yeah. We can talk about how wrong I was about marriage being second fiddle some other time. ::looks back to picture::

Of Love And Zara

Every day is another opportunity for a man to come home and utter the words, “I have presents for you.” And those words – those special, adoration-producing words – are outdone only by an arrangement whose intensity is maintained best through scarcity. “There was a sale at Zara.”

No wait. Wrong expression.

That’s the one.

And today was such a day in the Morrow home. A day when the scales of complacency were loosened from my eyes and the world was born anew.

A little known fact about women me? A present for me is made even better if it’s something for him that I – long ago! – mentioned I’d love to see him in. Read: there were loverly pieces for him, too. But among the booty was a splendor that I must here share. And then quickly end this post before it turns from well-intentioned gushing to homicide-inducing….for of course, YOU did not receive bags of Zara, I presume.

That’s a winter wonderland, is what that is. Pockets. LINED HOOD. Splendor. Zara.

And how can you be sure that his love for you is genuine? By these words, “There was a lot more that you’d like. We should go back tomorrow.”

Eat your heart out, Mr. Darcy.