The Blessing of I Forgot

First, thank you, Amanda for providing the title of today's blog.  

Marky and I had a salmon dinner, a glass of wine, we're playing Wii Sports Resort, and are singing songs about Cameltoe Rock and Wedgie Island.  We're debating whether to bike, play tennis, or drive out to hike Starved Rock tomorrow.  We're normal people.  Better than normal.  Today is Tammy Faye's second birthday, and it's a total non-issue.  Yes, there are 12 prescription bottles on the coffee table, but we've both gotten used to it.  Yes it's a financial drag, and yes, tomorrow is another day.  But we're here today, and it's a beautiful thing.  

There have been a couple of signs.  I've been looking for them a little, but one should.  We looked for a symbolic bottle of wine tonight at Dommie's.  Marky found something that said "Anniversary" on the label.  Good enough.  As we put it in the basket, I noticed it was a 2007 wine.  That's Tammy's year!  Even better.  This afternoon, as I walked past an ultra-colorful/non-denominational/humorous church on Broadway, the marquis read, "I always say shopping is cheaper than a psychiatrist," Tammy Faye Bakker.  Just a little nod from the namesake.  

Really, that's it.  We both sat down to dinner, and had to stop to remind ourselves of the importance of today.  Honestly, I forgot about Tammy Faye's big day until late this afternoon.  It's a weird anniversary to celebrate, the life of a kidney.  But we have a lot to be thankful for, and fortunately, the time to do it.  

These Are The Rejections I Know, I Know

Marky's two, now famous, rejections are at the top of the list. Then there's the person who bought my book, and decided to trade it for a scarf, instead. That's not a lose-lose situation, I know, but I count it as a rejection.

I've sent off countless query letters (for only a short amount of time, mind you--I'm being SUPER antsy and sensitive), and have gotten all rejections. At first I said to myself, "Well, as long as book agents are reading my queries, and it's getting out into the collective consciousness, it's okay if I get rejected. They gave me a chance." I'm here to admit, it's much better thinking a book agent didn't even look at the query, than having one ask for the first five pages and then turn it down. Utter heartbreak. At least I send SASE's in my favorite color, lime green. Getting cheery envelopes in the mail seems to soften the blow of the inevitable rejection letter lurking inside.

As fun as it is wallowing in my own goth girl self-pity, there is an unfortunate bright side to this subject. I've started rejecting things, too. I reject the notion that I should feel guilty for someone else's problem. I reject diving into paranoia and mental instability just because the person talking to me is going that route. I reject my former motto, "I can knit anything as long as it's a square or a rectangle." My new motto is, "I can knit anything!" Or perhaps, "I can do anything!"