I thought I would post an excerpt from the book I am working on right now called, "My Average American Life."
I would welcome some truthful feedback. (This is unedited, of course)
The idea behind the book is to journal my life, which is being an average American, for a year. It's not so much a journal journal as it is a reflection on events that happen to me everyday that mold and shape me as an "average American." With the publication of the book, there will be a journal that will have the book title on the top so that others can be inspired to journal events that take place in their lives and not just write--"It was a good day...", but that they reflect on what happened to them, how it affected them, how are they changed and so on. Those are the life lessons we are better for leaving behind than "The cake was yummy."
Here's a couple of excerpts:
April 10—I was truly disappointed today when the Pinewood Derby with my cub scouts was cancelled due to high winds. I think that would have only added to the excitement of the race. I haven’t ever been to one before and have been anxiously awaiting this new experience since I was asked to be a Webelos den leader. I asked why wind would have an effect on the race. The answers I received were that it could make it “unfair” for the kids. I thought it would be a perfect opportunity to teach the “life’s not fair” philosophy. Oh well.
I didn’t get a chance to spend that much time today with Coby. He came home later than expected after stopping by to renew his book at the library and then seeing an old friend of his. When he came home it was time to feed the baby and then for me to rush off to scouts. After that was done, he was finishing up working with the youth of our church ward. I had to drive one of my scouts home, which adds more time away from getting back home since I am good friends with his mother—we like to talk. On the way home it was deciding who was giving the baby his bath, putting him in his jammies and getting him his last bottle and who was going for some long-over-due dinner.
I love bathing my baby and getting him all clean and into his jammies, so that’s the job I opted for.
As I give my son a bath, lather him in baby lotion and then in baby powder—I often think, when did this ritual end in my own life?
Coby and I often comment on how we want to have lotion and baby powder after our baths now—we get a little jealous of the spa treatments our baby receives (and rightfully so).
We just wonder why we don’t do the same?
I developed this nightly routine for my son, so that after a hard day of eating 6 bottles, two meals, burping, filling up several diapers with waste, playing, laughing, snuggling, crawling, two naps and being cute all the time—he get’s a little tired. With this wind-down routine he gets in the zone of knowing his day is coming to an end. In order to make that transition easier, he gets a warm bath, lotion, powder and clean jammies. Then he gets a warm bottle to fill his little belly. What a life!
However, after adult days, filled with paying bills, going to work, dealing with angry road-raged stupid drivers, paying bills, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning, dealing with the boss, dealing with your co-workers, bills, in-laws, doctor’s appointments, root canals, parent-teacher conferences and of course, how can we forget--- bills… why don’t we have nightly adult spa care?
Is it too much to ask ourselves for a warm bath with a few toys? When will Nora Roberts create a waterproof romance novel or Dean Kuntz make Odd Thomas, float in my tub?
Here’s a remedy for an at-home spa treatment I’d like to try.
First, a warm bath. No bubbles, just some time to sit and soak, to ponder and think. Perhaps sucking the water out of a wash cloth will help eliminate daily stress.
Second, lotion. There’s a potion with a notion to be used with really sensual motions. Top it off with some baby powder – don’t forget the parts that are starting to stick together.
Now it’s time to find some clean jammies and then roll into the bed that was made this morning (cough, cough).
What was it that I was so disappointed about earlier?
Give me jammies or give me death!
May 16— I must have a sign on my car that is only invisible to me that says something like, “Pull out in front of me,” or “I don’t need to live another day, please drive erratically around me.”
Not only did I have yesterday’s experience still haunting my nerves, but it seems like every jacked-up diesel truck in this desert has it out for me. Maybe I should trick out my small Honda Civic to look tough enough that if anyone dared pull out in front of me, beside me or even behind me—they should be afraid. Be very afraid.
Why can’t people just be courteous and learn to drive respectfully? Maybe it’s the 100-degree weather that we experience here in St. George, or maybe it’s the lack of things to do here—whatever it is, the rudest drivers live here.
I was born in South Carolina, grew up in Georgia, lived 18-months in Los Angeles, moved to Logan, Utah and then here and out of all the places I have lived and out of all the places I have visited across this vast globe— I have never driven around ruder people than here. Although we do have some transplants from California and New England… the worst ones are the locals.
If there are better road manners in Los Angles than in small town, Utah—there are serious problems.
I think manners in general have stopped being taught. Maybe this hopeful southern belle wishes these people had an ounce of southern hospitality.
I don’t see things ever changing here. There are too many people that drive the same car, have the same hair-do, wear the same fake nails and rat their hair the same height on the crown of their head-- to care to be any different.
Maybe I will post a sign on my car and make it large enough that those who haven’t seen the other signs will surely see this one. I think it will read:
“If you pull out in front of me or do any crazy maneuver that puts me and any of the passengers in my car in harm’s way—I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN. After I hunt you down, I will sit you down in a chair, where I will tie you to it. Then I will make you sit and listen to my life story so that you know whose life you almost ended only because you needed to be one car ahead at the next traffic light.”
Trust me; you don’t want to be a car ahead at the next traffic light. My stories aren’t worth it; however, my average American life is the only life I have to live and I am worth not pulling out in front of.
Thank You.
Well-- I didn't mean to take up so much space on the blog. Please let me know if you-- as a first time reader-- understand what I am writing about and if you--as a reader would buy a book like this.
Feedback will help me in this process tremendously. You can e-mail it instead of posting it here. hunt.family05@gmail.com
Thanks!!!!!!!!! :)
Oh heavens! Ethan did the last thing you want your baby to do while eating green beens. I was getting his next bite ready and I heard him take a deep breath so I scrambled for a something to catch the...too late, he sneezed all over EVERYTHING! Needless to say I had to change clothes again that morning. 
Ethan figured out that it's way more fun to sit up than it is to lay down! SO he sits up all by himself without mommy holding him up anymore! It's so fun to watch him play with each toy until he gets bored of it then he'll choose another one. He's a little man now. 
This is just the saddest face I've ever seen! How could he be so sad with so many toys to play with I wonder? This face is the reason why Ethan is so spoiled!
