My wall of books, notebooks, and papers on the dining room table. It's comforting to be surrounded by such good friends. I've enjoyed re-introducing myself to Scout, Esperanza, Nick, Saleem, and the others, and recalling their stories, not surprisingly still vivid in my mind. Like looking through a photo album, only this one is filled with words, plots, characters, themes. I hadn't realized I'd miss them, until now.

And what is comps? It is a personalized exam over the books listed on my "reading list"page, incorporating, well, pretty much everything I've learned over the years as an undergrad/graduate in pursuit of my BA and MFA in creative writing. I have no idea what the questions will be, I just know they will include most of these books. Did I mention it's from 9:00-3:30, with a break for lunch?

Not so tough, right? Last weekend, I was in full panic mode. Already contemplating how I would rescind the invitations that went out for my graduation reception, what class I would have to enroll in next year in order to re-take comps or if I would have to enroll, and would I walk in the May ceremonies or just be too embarrassed and ashamed that it took a do-over in order to graduate.

I'm feeling better today. I've received a few encouraging emails, this being my favorite:

            "I have consulted with the occult and Norse gods, and the portents are excellent for your upcoming examination. In fact, it seems your real talents and merits are to be agreed upon by all present, so fret not."

And with all of these emails, "good luck" cards, and Facebook messages, the panic has subsided. What I'm left with is a sense of humility and a whole lot of gratefulness. With the belief of family and friends, I am afloat in comps-confidence. Who needs the occult and Norse Gods, when I have all of you.

I'm betting that there is not enough time upon this earth to heal my heart, nor the broken hearts of my family. We will go to our Maker with these hearts, bandaged and stitched, held together by memories, tears.

Not one day goes by that I do not think of her. Smell her. Hear her.

She would be 31 years old today.

Happy Birthday, Andrea. On that sweet day when I see your face again, that will be the day my heart will be whole again.

I miss rushing around campus trying to secure a schedule of courses booklet, always fearful that they might all be snatched up. I would admire the new cover for the semester, a picture of a happy, ambitious student, or WU, or maybe the clock tower.

Then, I would find a quiet area at home and with a yellow highlighter, a black pen, and a few paperclips, begin my process of highlighting classes I needed to take, place a black star by those I really WANTED to take, and paperclip the pages to make thumbing through my choices easier.

Once the booklet was completely starred, highlighted, and clipped, I would get a separate piece of notebook paper and write out my imagined schedule.

Crazy, I know. But, I always looked forward to it. There was a bit of magic in creating that schedule, satisfaction in checking off the required classes, excitement in knowing that this schedule would rule my life for the next 16 weeks.

No more. I graduate December 13. So, when the email announced that schedule of courses booklets were available and that advisors were scheduling appointments, I sadly clicked delete.

I passed one of those booklets in the hall of Lindquist today. I wanted so badly to pick it up, leaf through the pages, imagining it filled with yellow highlighter. But, I kept walking.

They say it gets easier to walk away, to say no, each semester. I hope so.

"Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sport...the thrill of victory...and the agony of defeat...the human drama of athletic competition. This is ABC's Wide World of Sports"

Well, the line "...and the agony of defeat," along with clip of the ski jumper helicoptering off the end of the ramp and into a fence is what I'm focusing on today.

Two reasons: the Chicago Bears and NaNoWriMo

Let's begin with the Bears. Horrible. If you would like a complete rundown of their failure, go here: Chicago Sports.

Personally, I don't feel the need to recap such horrific defensive play. And so, the Bears dreams of a playoff are helicoptering into oblivion. A snowball of out-of-control fury.

Second: NaNoWriMo

You can see by the little participant widget to the right that I'm just racking up the words. Now, I'm not admitting complete defeat. Not yet. I knew what I was up against: a thesis/project, comps/research paper, and lets not forget that pesky full-time job. I knew the odds were stacked high, but I remained hopeful. This would be fun! Exciting!

Not so much. When I do have a moment to work on the new novel, well, let's just say I find other means to spend that spare time. Like, napping. Or watching football (although that may be coming to an end real soon).

I realize this is the 9th day and I should be 14,994 words in, but I'm not throwing in the towel. Not yet. I've got until November 30th. Anything can happen. Anything is possible.

 Even the thrill of victory (cue soul stirring music).

Way behind my goal of 1,667 per day, or day 5 goal of 8,335.  The thing is I'm really excited about this, as Chandra calls it, parlor game, I just have not had the time to play. Most of my writing, well, ALL of my writing has been over my lunch hour and that is just not productive.

And, I'm excited about the novel itself. If I thought I was stepping outside my box by just participating in NaNo, I've taken a giant leap in the subject I've chosen to write. My stories are traditionally family-related. I enjoy writing about community, family, slices of life. So, if I'm going to write a novel in 30 days, why not go outside my comfort zone, why not take on a popular genre.

With that said, I'm writing a modern day monster novel. Yes, monster. And no, I'm not jumping on the vampire-bandwagon, that horse has been beaten well into the ground. My monster is, well, different.  She is mythical, familiar, and probably the last creature you'd expect to destroy mankind. Yes, She.

Why the monster novel? I admit to being a huge fan of Bram Stoker's Dracula and after reading Christopher Booker's 7 Basic Plots as part of a plot class last year, I became intrigued with the idea of writing an "overcoming the monster" story. Why not follow a basic, familiar plot structure?

So, I'm taking Booker's monster structure and running with it. Or at least, strolling with it, at this point. But, I'm excited in creating characters I am unfamiliar. I spent an hour establishing my hero: what does he look like? where did he grow up? what are his quirks? what haunts him?

Even more time on setting, location, and my three other prominent characters, including my monster. Or is it monstress? I already had a summary of the novel and synopsis from an assignment in the aforementioned class, but deciding details and watching these characters blossom has been, I hate to be redundant, but exciting.

Now, if I could just find the time to put Booker's outline to the test. Oh, and Tony, my monster is a monster. She will not be an erotically characterized seductress, she's a killer. A killer, plain and simple. I mean, isn't that what a monster is supposed to be. I've never fantasized about being seduced by a monster, and I don't plan to start now. So, my monster is a monster. There will be nothing sexy in the way she slaughters her victims. And, you will want her dead by the end of the novel, if not sooner.

465 words.

Hey, at least I finally started the novel process and I did the actual writing over my lunch hour in between bites of Smashwedge salad.

And so, NaNoWriMo begins.

Now I know that NaNoWriMo begins today and I'm officially one day behind in racking up the words, but today was also the 30th Annual Toy Run. This was our 5th ride and one of the best with perfect weather and a group of 18. We started at the VFW on 2nd and Douglas for a breakfast buffett of scrambled eggs and biscuits and gravy. We lined up around 11:00 at Lawrence Dumont, then headed over to The Stadium for after-breakfast beer. The bikes filled both parking lots this year, so I'm very interested in the final count. Last year there were 3,300 bikes. I'm betting 4,500 this year.

The Toy Run is such an amazing event. My friend Chandra interviewed Brad and I for an article she is writing for The Eagle. She asked what our favorite part was about the run. We couldn't find just one. It's the entire day. But, I guess the ride itself is the most amazing aspect. When those engines fire up at 1:00, I get goosebumps that remain with me until we drop off our toy. I sit on the back of Brad's bike, waiting our turn to pull out of the lot, watching as row after row after row of bikes head out with toys strapped to their bikes, bikers in Santa hats, bikes decorated with tinsel and lights. And when we finally pull out onto Maple it is incredible to see all of the people line up along the street. This year, the streets were filled with people, from Lawrence Dumont to Park City,  children waving, veterans giving us the thumbs up, peace signs, men waving Old Glory. The feeling is not easy to describe,  it is pride and humility, a greater sense of community, and joy, and peace.

And, when we arrive at the Coliseum and the Color Guard is at the entrance and the Salvation Army volunteers hug you, shake your hand, and thank you for your gifts, well, it is the best way to begin the holiday season.

So, yes we enjoy ourselves, have a few beers, hang out with friends, see people we haven't seen since the last Toy Run, but it's really that feeling we get during the ride that makes it all worthwhile. And it is that feeling, that hope, that I cling to all year long.

We figured wrong. From the start, things did not go well. Rigby was intimidated by the pup, had bouts of diarrhea, leaked urine, hid in her dog house. Completely stressed. But, we figured it would take a few weeks and soon they would be best buds. Well, I'm not sure they were ever best anything, but they did get along better, chasing rings and tennis balls, tugging at ropes, chasing each other around the yard. But, Rigby still was wary of the little rascal. Come to find out, she had every right.

Rigby has sustained a leg injury. A major leg injury. A rupture of her cruciate ligament in her hind leg. In human terms, a blown knee. When the vet gave me the diagnosis yesterday, the first thing I thought of: football and basketball players, sports-related injuries. What? The injury was caused by trauma. The trauma being a wiry pup clipping Rigby as they ran.

She became lame on Tuesday evening and it broke my heart to see her hobble about, whimpering every time her toe touched the ground. Unfortunately, we live in a split level home which means stairs, stairs, and more stairs. Guess we should have bought the all-ground level home five years ago. Rigby could not climb the stairs. Brad had to hook a towel around her hind end and while she scrambled up with her front legs, he held her hind legs up to move her along. This was the only way, after all she weighs 88 pounds.

I confess I don't do so well when Rigby is sick or injured. I'm one of those crazy moms that becomes hysterical and frantic. I'm figuring this is the reason the Big Guy thought it best I not have children. Who can blame him? Brad sure can't after my reactions the other evening. He was more exasperated with my antics than the fact that Rigby could not walk, "Brad, be careful...Brad, do something..Brad, don't touch her leg...Brad, you're hurting her..."

I know. Pathetic.

 So, we made a trip to the vet. I'd asked Brad to help me get her out of the house and into the car, since she was having so much trouble. But, Rigby soon began to figure out that something was going on. She'd been brushed, her leash was out...oh, was that the sound of the car keys? Could it be...yes, WE'RE GOING FOR A DRIVE!!  She hopped right into the car, injury forgotten. Imagine her disappointment when we arrived at the vet and not the park. But, she was still in good spirits. There's nothing like a drive to lift her spirits, her big nose and head hanging out the back window.

But, now she needs surgery and 6-8 weeks of recovery in which she has to be contained in a ground level room, no running, no stairs. No stairs. We may have to move. And, no Penny. The vet recommended we keep them separated for the duration of Rigby's recovery. This is not feasible. Sadly, Penny will have to leave. We contacted her previous owner to let him know the situation and he misses her so much, he wants her back. At least Penny's situation has ended well.

As for Rigby, I'll be scheduling her surgery soon, we'll be modifying the garage as that is our only ground level room, and prepare for 6-8 weeks of recovery. Oh, then there's the physical therapy. In the end, our free pup will have cost us $1,400 plus. Free? Right.

On Friday, Chandra and I met for a pre-NaNo lunch. There is nothing I enjoy more than lunch with a fellow writer. We indulged in great coffee, fine sandwiches, then proceeded to lay out our plans. We came to the meeting armed with our notebooks filled with questions, various notes, mine containing a summary or synopsis of my future novel. Can I tell you how much fun it was?

Both of us were concerned with "do we have what it takes?" I'm pretty sure we erased all doubt. At least for now. We both agreed that things could change greatly by the second week of November.After all, life always seems to get in the way of writing the great American novel. And how to deal with that life? Chandra is planning on purchasing groceries to get her through the entire month. One less distraction.

Me? Other than the synopsis, which I confess I've had since September 2008, I've really made no other adjustments to my daily schedule. I've found that the best intentions in easing life's daily distractions usually results in the ultimate crash and burn. I will still grocery shop in November and I need not remind you that November is the month for power-shopping. But, I'm optimistic considering that for the first time in many years, Brad and I are not hosting Thanksgiving. We merely have to drive to KC and maybe make garlic mash potatoes or sweet potato pie. No problem. Right?

And, lest I forget, there is that whole matter of taking comps. Oh, and handing in my thesis. And it's our 10th wedding anniversary and numerous family birthdays, and the beginning of Shocker basketball season...

Stay tuned for the eminent breakdown.