What's Bugging Sioux?

Hi. I'm Sioux and I'm a Seinfeld-aholic. I was at a park yesterday, thought I was in a bathroom stall without toilet paper, and asked the person in the stall next to me if they had a square to spare.

If you're not into the show Seinfeld, sorry--that reference won't make you smile.

I recently survived Christmas (it's been a tough year) and fantasized about celebrating Festivus--a made-up Seinfeld holiday. It involves an aluminum pole (that is not decorated), the airing of grievances and finally, the feats of strength.

Since the year 2019 is now officially over, I figured I would air my grievances. (I have lots of griping to do.)

One of my grievances involves Viggo Mortensen. One involves Nutella. Another one involves my writing accountability group.

If you'd like to experience the airing of my grievances, head to my WOW post.

And happy Festivus--for the rest of us!

Promotion

This is Dewey, my grand-dog. Yes, after growing up in a family surrounded by golden retrievers, my son married a girl who was into pug-love... and now they have a pug, a soon-to-be adopted baby and another baby due to be born in June.

I always semi-apologize when I tell people my son has a pug. *

Dewey is cute, but pugs are not my favorite breed. For one, they have breathing problems. Secondly, they inevitably get stocky when they're older, and resemble Winston Churchill--all you have to do is stick a cigar in their mouth, and it's uncanny. Third, they always look unhappy.

Goldens, on the other hand, always look happy.

My daughter-in-law never stops trying to get me to switch sides. She'd love nothing more than to hear me say that I'm going to adopt a pug (never gonna happen)... that I love pugs more than golden retrievers (totally not true)... that I adore everything about pugs (nope, but I do admit I love watching them scamper around. They are fast little--well, since this is a PG site, I'll just say they're really fast.)

I recently signed up to do something scary (for me) to work on my self-promotion skills.  Many writers I know do it well--Linda O'Connell, Margo Dill, Cathy Hall, Lisa Ricard Claro and Pat Wahler. They don't beat their readers over the head in their bragging (and they all have lots to brag about), they let their readers into their lives, and they share their writing advice and resources with generosity.

What scares Sioux? Sioux, who has gone skydiving three times. Sioux, who has played basketball while riding a donkey. Sioux, who drove to the Grand Canyon in an estrogen-filled van with five other females.

If you're curious, check out my recent post on WOW.

* For those who love pugs, please don't leave a mountain of comments, pointing out their charm, their wonderful characteristics. Every dog breed has its fans. I'm just not a fan of pugs.

When "No" Means "Yes"

Sometimes people hear "no" and they don't stop. They're told they can't get something published... and they publish it themselves. They're told they'll never get into a certain publication... and they keep trying until they do.

No can shut people down. However, it can also fire people up.

If you'd like to find out what being told "no" has done to me, check out my post on The Muffin. It might be some nibbling you'll enjoy...

2nd Place

Sometimes being #2 is enough. Sometimes it's wonderful.

A couple of days ago I read of a writer who snagged the second prize in WOW's nonfiction essay contest. Her piece was A. Maz. Ing. It's a moving story and it's well crafted.

You can read Bea's story here.

Today is my second day with students. Yesterday was an incredible day. My goal (one of many): to remember a few students' names in each class.

Sometimes #2 is better than #1. Even though I thoroughly enjoyed the first day, I'm looking forward to an even better day today.

How do you handle not making #1? Does missing top spot get you discouraged? 

Or, does it make you dig your heels in and try even harder the next time?

Back to Work

Next week I officially go back to work. Last week I went in and began working on my classroom. This week, I've done the same. There are still some crates to unpack, along with things to put away.

Along one wall I've attached a long banner that says, "Our greatest heroes are ordinary people doing extraordinary things." On another wall, on the sections of wall space between my six windows, I've hung posters of some of my historical heroes. Jackie Robinson. Abe Lincoln. Mae Jemison. Harriet Tubman. Anne Frank. Barack Obama.

I'm hoping that if my students don't have any heroes, they'll discover some during the school year. 

We'll be writing research papers, creating movies, and interviewing senior citizens. (My school is right next door to a senior complex.)

Who are some of your historical figures? 

A Glimmer

It's almost the end of July and I'm filled with glimmers.

A glimmer of excitement. I worked in my new classroom one morning this week. (I'd be there more, but I don't have keys yet.) I set up 5 of the 6 tables I'll need for students, along with chairs. (I'm mixin' it up. Alternating tables, some with orange chairs and some with blue.) I laminated some posters of some of my historical figures. (Mae Jemison. Harriet Tubman. Abe Lincoln. Jackie Robinson. President Obama. Anne Frank.) I put out my Author's Chair and a rug that used to be perfect, but after the science fair last year, now has a smear of rubber cement.

A glimmer of joy. I've been hitting the streets, begging for donations from area restaurants for donations. Love a Golden's trivia night is coming up, and it's my responsibility burden to get the majority of the gift certificates. We're just about to reach our goal, so I'm thrilled. I can slow down the prostrate train...

A glimmer of hope. A second publisher has requested a full manuscript. Obviously, such a request might result in them still saying, "No thanks." In fact, both of them might say, "Um, no." However, I'm preferring to keep looking at that glimmer of hope.

And if you'd like to catch a glimmer of why I love a new TV show, check out my post on the Muffin.

As Emily Dickinson so eloquently wrote:

Hope is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.