Her name is Linda J. Hutchinson , she's one of those people who enrich the lives of everyone she knows and she's one of my favorite people.

Linda had back surgery today and will be in recovery for at least the next several weeks. She plans to chronicle it all in her blog . If you can, please mark http://livingwithfmandoa.blogspot.com/ on your favorites and keep her company by checking on her a few times during the process. Tell her I sent you :)

BTW...if you're still shopping for Christmas, Linda has a killer little online store called Linda's Gifts And Decor . Check that out too!

I just posted this blog on my new profile: http://www.myspace.com/infofothenouveaupo and thought my friends here might like to read it too. Hope I was right.

Giving Thanks Day

Here in the States, one day of every year is set aside to reflect upon, and express gratitude for, the blessings we've been given.  It's a beautiful idea, but sometimes something gets lost in the translation.

Traditionally, the women fuss about in the kitchen while hoards of children fight in the living room, drowning out the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. Grandpa just keeps turning up the volume and loudly announcing every ten minutes, "That Meredith is a handsome woman." The rest of the men folk sneak off outside to smoke, talk about the coming game and swap lies.

When the table is set, everyone gathers, holds hands and thanks God for family, friends and the wonderful meal they are about to receive. The prayer ends with a resounding "Amen," and the family takes their seats.

Gobs of mashed potatoes are smothered in rivers of gravy. Someone comments on how beautiful the turkey is. You smile with pride, hoping no one notices you forgot to make cole slaw. Bowls of rolls make the rounds, followed closely by butter dishes or tubs of margarine. Children slurp up cranberry jelly before complaining that they didn't want green beans. There's an impressive gnashing of teeth, and within half an hour, enough food to feed an army has disappeared.

The kids ask to be excused and run to fight some more before they have to go home. The men retire to the living room for the traditional burping competition, before they settle in to watch football. The women silently pray they don't get stuck with all the left overs, as they carry the dishes to the kitchen.

At this point, many women are just thankful that Thanksgorging Day only comes once a year.

It's easy to overlook the very real blessings we receive every day, while we toil away through our stressful lives. I think that's probably the biggest reason we need a day dedicated just to thinking about what we already have.

But to be honest, the simple act of putting that many family members in one house, combined with the pressure to serve the best meal ever, while Uncle Ted chases screaming kids around the house --demanding they pull his finger, can create a far less than thankful attitude.

If you don't exactly feel grateful until the last guest is long gone and all the dishes have been washed, you are not alone. And that's okay, that's part of the tradition too.

Now, just sit for a minute, take a deep breath and think about what just happened.

First and foremost, you just survived another family gathering with most of your hair. Second, the turkey was FREAKIN' GREAT!

Uncle Ted didn't break anything, as far as you know. No one had to get stitches and the cat survived the fire. Hubby is quietly snoring in the lazy-boy. And you have three hundred and sixty-four days before you have to do THAT again.

Now, that's truly something you can be thankful for.

***

Psst! While I have your attention, I'd appreciate it if you added my new profile to your friends list, too :)

http://www.myspace.com/infofothenouveaupo

(CBS) The pastor of a southwest Florida church opened many eyes and ears Sunday when he said he wants married couples in the congregation to -- have sex for 30 days in a row.

Head pastor Paul Wirth of Relevant Church in Ybor City, outside Tampa, says his "30-Day Sex Challenge" is one way of taking on the nation's 50-percent divorce rate.

Rest of the story HERE

Finally a pastor I can get behind...better not let him get too close behind you though. (sorry...couldn't let it pass)

Okay...two confessions actually, though one is mine and the other should really be confessed by my dog, Loola-Dean.

First, I have more or less given up on NANO this year. Perhaps it was foolish, but I decided to learn to play guitar the very day that NANO starts....guess which one is causing my fingers to hurt more.

Whatever YOU think, the way I choose to look at it is: November is NOT the only month I can write a book, however, it was the 1st of November that my dear sweetie bought me a guitar and I'd rather let the rest of the world down than to see disappointment in his beautiful grey eyes.

So shoot me. I already know how to play a bunch of cool sounding stuff...and will soon know a whole lot more, so pfft.

(And I wasn't joking about the fingers! They are KILLING ME!)

Now for my second hand confession.

Loola-Dean is in heat. So what, right? Um...you might think so, until she tries to perform oral on YOUR foot! And I thought it was gross when she just sat on them!

Do they make those KY finger thingies for dogs? Seriously. Loola could sure use one. My toes are not impressed.

To my writer friends...I'm thinking May or June might make good NON-NANO NANO months. What do you think?

I fixed the POV problem and it feels a lot better now. Still way behind on WC, but the characters are already taking over so I'm happy.

WC 1,104

NANO 2008

Working title – Wilding

Marty opened her clinched fist and stared through a blur of tears, wondering if she could possibly have read the wrinkled note wrong. But the water color of pink she saw told the whole story, no words needed. She'd just been fired.

"Damn!" She closed her eyes to hold off the threatening flood. The elevator stopped and she wiped roughly at a tear before stepping out into the brightly lit lobby.

After crumpling the paper into a tight wad, she threw it at a potted plant on her way out the door.

She ignored two men who talked and laughed as they pushed empty wheel chairs and lined them up inside the emergency entry foyer. Head down, she avoided both eye contact and the shallow puddles in the pavement as she headed to the employee parking lot.

Spotting her car, she fought the urge to run, but even her quickened pace caused water to splash on her pant cuffs and her clog covered socks were soaked. She rushed to open the door and dropped the keys in her haste. Cursing under her breath, she bent over to pick them up. Her cell phone fell from her smock pocket into a puddle at her feet. She picked it up too and cussed some more, then opened the door and climbed behind the wheel.

After pounding the steering wheel a few times, she broke down into tears.

"Oh, God. How am I going to tell Chris?" She knew he would take it hard. He was already depressed over losing his job months ago.

She locked the door and started the car.

As she fought her way through traffic she practiced what she would say when she got home.

"We'll be fine. It was a crappy job anyway. The hours sucked, the pay was terrible and...." And we needed every penny of it!

"We could take in a border and start a dog walking business and...." start selling off organs to the highest bidder.

"I could always get a job as a waitress again, deliver newspapers and...." start selling Avon.

"It'll be a fresh start, with both of us out of work.... Shit!" She swerved to miss the car ahead of her when he tapped the breaks. "Kill yourself in an accident on the way home, Marty. That'll be a BIG help."

She took the next exit, found a Waffle House and pulled into the parking lot. She needed a few moments to calm her nerves. She wanted to appear as confident as possible when she told her husband the news.

...

Marty sat quietly, fidgeting with the hot coffee cup and staring out at the cars as they passed down the road in front of the restaurant.

Thank God they had savings, there was still a few thousand left, though they had had to tap into the account more than a few times since Chris was layed off.

The mortgage was their largest expense. They'd already cut back, no more cable or long distance, the paper had been canceled and she couldn't remember the last time they'd eaten out.

She laughed, "Who am I kidding, we're down to eating Ramen noodles and salad twice a week."

The waitress looked up from her magazine. "Need something, Sugar?"

"No." Marty cleared her throat. "Sorry, just thinking out loud, I guess." She could feel the blood rush to her cheeks. Probably thinks I'm a nut.

The older woman smiled kindly. "Sometimes it's best to talk it out with yourself. That's what my daddy always used to say."

Marty smiled. "Smart man. Thank you."

"He was right too. I usually find it's easier to talk to myself. I understand myself so much better than anyone else."

Now Marty laughed out loud. "Thank you. I needed that" She nodded at her cup. "I will take a refill, if you don't mind."

"Sure thing." She brought the coffee pot over to the table and started to pour. "You know honey, things generally get pretty simple, when you simplify."

Marty frowned and ran her fingers through her hair. "Lord, you must think I'm crazy."

She laughed. "Not at all, but you do look like my daughter always did when she wound up in a mess. All spooky eyed and nervous, worrying that things are gonna blow up." She shook her head. "I'll tell you just what I told her. It's never as bad as you think, you just gotta set your back straight and face it head on."

Marty looked down at her hands. "I don't know how to simplify this mess, but I do thank you for the advice."

"Ah, Sugar. You can eat a whole elephant, if you just cut it up into bite sized pieces. What could be so terrible? Did somebody die?"

Marty fidgeted in her seat. "No."

"Well then, is anybody likely to?"

"I guess we could starve, or die of exposure when the bank kicks us out." She felt the tears fighting to break free.

The woman leaned over and touched her hand. "Would you be needing a job?"

She felt the first tear touch her cheek. "Yes maam, I do."

The waitress put her hands on her hips, closed her eyes and looked at the ceiling, then back down at Marty. "Well I need a waitress."

Marty stood up, almost spilling her coffee. "Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack. It's not glamorous work, but if you do it right the pay is decent and if you want the job, it's yours. Can you be here by 8:00 tomorrow morning?"

In her excitement, Marty forgot herself and hugged the woman. "Yes maam, I can!"

"It's settled then. First order of business. Stop calling me maam. I'm Florida, not maam. And don't call me Flow either, it's Florida...and you are?"

"Marty. Thank you, Florida."

"You're welcome." She pulled a tissue from her apron pocket and handed it to her. "Now dry those pretty eyes, sit down and finish your coffee. Would you like some pie?"

"No thank you. I really shouldn't have bought the coffee, but..."

"Nonsense. Waitresses don't pay for coffee here Sugar, and one piece of pie just happens to cost the same as a cup of coffee...when you figure in your employee discount. Nothing." She winked at Marty, turned and walked over to the counter. "Apple or peach?"

"Peach."

"Peach it is."

...

She pulled into their driveway,