So, I realized this weekend my plan was flawed with this whole writing thing.  

I don't want to write on the weekends.  My husband gets on to me about working all the time, and I tried to spend time with them.  I sat down to write this on Saturday, but I kept getting called by them to do other stuff, and I walked away from it.  

I made my plan, so I can change it.  Moving forward, my goal is to write a prompt a day on work days (excluding weekends and holidays).  

Now, to give my city (or town or region) a new name that reflects the type of place it is, for me, is quite challenging.  I struggle to come up with names for my books, businesses, etc.  The only thing that wasn't too difficult were names for my children.

Chad and I had decided on a girl and boy name just a few months after we started dating.  Grace Hannah for a girl and Noah Aaron for a boy.  

We were never prepared to have anything other than a girl and a boy - ha.

But after Noah, when we found out he was going to have a little brother, we struggled for a bit.  I wanted him to be named Eli, but Chad was insistent we weren't naming our kid after the younger Manning brother.  He was all for Peyton.  I was equally as insistent that we weren't naming our child after either brother, but rather for the Biblical Eli who cared for Samuel.  And since Hannah and Samuel were a big part of our conception story for Noah, I thought it would work.

I got put on bed rest pretty early in the pregnancy, and Chad wasn't feeling the name.  He kept saying we weren't naming him Eli, even though I'd been calling our baby this for a little bit of a time.  Finally, I agreed we could consider other names.  

I had Noah bring me the baby name book.  I randomly picked a page, closed my eyes, and pointed to a name.  Jonah.

Then, I had Noah do the same thing.  He picked the same page.  What were the chances of that?  Then, he poked his little finger on the same name.  

So, I had Chad follow suit - not sold on the name Jonah because Jonah was disobedient.  He got swallowed by a whale.  How could that be good for our baby?  

You can imagine my surprise when Chad chose the same page and the same name...with his eyes closed too.

We took that as a sign.  The middle name had already been chosen.  Aaron is Chad's and his dad's middle name, so for Jonah, we chose David - my dad's first name (even though he goes by Danny - David Daniel McGee).  It was also the name of my late grandfather.  A family name.  

But naming a town, a city, or a region?  C'mon.  That's a bit much, don't you think?

I'm going to rename my hometown.  It's where most of my memories are.

When I think of the first words that comes to mind when I think of my hometown of Aiken and the surrounding places I spent my time growing up, I think of Southern hospitality at its finest.  

Neither of those words would make a great city name.  With hospitality comes charm.  I think of the reality show, Southern Charm.  I wouldn't want to name my area after that.  It's a guilty pleasure, but most of those folks seem like a hot mess.

And I'm back where I started, with no clue what to name anything. 

Aiken is known for its beautiful landscaping and horses.  Big live oak trees and magnolias, crepe myrtles, and lots of azaleas.  One time, I wrote a book called The Auction.  I'm hoping to re-release it this year (maybe).  But it was a prequel to a potential new series, Magnolia Grove.  I like that name for Aiken.  

The azaleas make me think of Amen Corner at The Augusta National about thirty minutes away.  So, a something like Azalea Corner could work.

To me, both of those sound like cozy, beautiful places.  Perfect for the quaint town that Aiken is.  

I'm not sure if I'm ready to face where I'll be in ten years.  My boys will be 21 and 19.  My husband and I will hopefully be empty-nesters to college students.

I've never been good at keeping a diary for the same reason I've never been good at regular blogging, which is the whole reason I'm doing this little project.  I hate writing in a diary in the same way I hate making videos - it's like talking to myself.  I can easily do an article where I share my experiences thinking someone else is going to read it, but to just sit here and talk to myself is weird.  

Anyway, it's part of the challenge, so I guess here it goes.  I have no idea what I'm going to say.  Hmm.

Dear Diary,

Ten years ago, I cried as Noah walked across the stage to receive his certificate of completion for the fifth grade.  It was hard to imagine, to even think about the fact he was headed to sixth grade.  

That summer, he learned to cook and make his own medication.  I had dreams for him, for Jonah, to be able to be independent.  My hope was that one day they'd be able to live on their own like their peers.  There is so much to do to take care of themselves.  It was hard to imagine they'd ever be able to handle it all.  Preparing CPAPs, oxygen, feeding bags, medications, and the list goes on and on.  

I'll never forget them saying they were going to live together when they grew up because they couldn't imagine being apart from one another.  And they were going to live close to me so they could visit anytime.

While the thought warmed my heart, I had secretly hoped they would move away.  Not because I didn't want them close to me, but because I wanted to know they were independent enough to do so, to live a life of their own.  One where they had spread their wings and flown a distance I had feared in the early days of their diagnosis I would never see.

And today, Noah completed his junior year of college at The University of Tennessee.  He's going to be a senior.  

And Jonah completed his freshman year at The University of Florida.  

I'm proud of them.  I know they miss each other, but I think this time of being away from each other has helped them find who they are on their own, has helped them develop into more of their own individual selves.  

The road hasn't been easy to get here.  The past ten years came with a lot of sacrifices.  There was a lot of pain, but nothing persistence and love couldn't sustain.

***
These are my dreams for my boys, but really what I hope happens in ten years is that they are chasing their own dreams, even if they are different from mine.  All I want is for them to be as healthy as they can be, doing all the things that bring them joy.  Anything else is a bonus. 

While I haven't read the book, You Before Me, but I love this quote.  "You only get one life.  It's actually your duty to live it as fully as possible."  

I hope we're all doing that in ten years. However or whatever it takes.

What is my favorite work of art?  That is so hard because I have a bunch.  As an artist, I appreciate other people's creation.  There are books that I think were brilliantly crafted, that leave me in awe.  There are pieces of music that leave me breathless, that touch me so deep I have to create my own art from them.  Writing Heartfall gave me a whole new appreciation and yearning to dance.  Roberto Bolle was my muse for Sebastian, and he creates all kinds of art when he moves his body in ways it shouldn't.  It is taking me a lot of restraint to keep myself from going to watch his art on YouTube.

Like yesterday's prompt, where I looked at it the day before so I could think about it, I did the same.  I knew this was coming, and I immediately thought of the piece of art that I was going to say was my favorite.  But then, I started thinking about the artist who created it.  She made about twenty-two other illustrations that are also my favorite, but for different reasons.  

And the more I ponder this question, I can't pick just one.  There are two that are my favorite.  So, I'm going to share those with you.  Both are pieces by Andrea Perno.

My son, Noah, and I co-wrote a children's book together a couple of years ago called Sports Impossible.  You can read more about it on his website, which can be reached by clicking the title.  But when I needed an illustrator, I happened upon some art her students had made.  There was something about them that touched me, and I was really hopeful she would help us with his book.  She did.

Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined the beautiful creations she'd make to depict his story.  Sports Impossible, while fiction, is very much Noah's story - almost to the point it could be an autobiography.  

Seeing his visions come to life was one of the most special experiences we've had together.  Working on this project gave him confidence, authority, and I watched him grow up a bit with it.

Narrowing it down to one picture is hard because I love them all.  But I think my favorite of the ones Andrea drew for Noah is the cover.  

I write under a different name for children's books, but I love this one because I look at that picture of Matthew, and I know it perfectly captures Noah and so many other disabled kids like him.

This story was dedicated to them because what Noah's message was, what his hope is, is that people will focus on what they can do instead of what they can't.  

That's all I can say about that without giving the book away.  But I love everything this cover represents.

One day, I was tagged in a picture by Sonia Midnightdraven Torres.  It was of a dancer.  The colors were predominantly violet, and my interpretation was that it looked like she was in the middle of a wave.  This was while I was writing Heartfall.

Sonia had no idea about the plot other than the fact it was about a ballerina.  I was so moved by this piece of art.  I couldn't stop looking at it.  You can see it on my Heartfall Pinterest board.  After contacting the artist and learning it had been sold, I resigned myself to never owning artwork that personified Claire.  

Not long after that, Andrea posted a picture of a ballerina.  Reaching out to her again, she graciously accepted the challenge to bring my characters to life.  I sent her two scenes from the book so she could get a feel for what was important between Claire and Sebastian.  

Also, let me say that Andrea is super fast on her commissioned artwork.  In no time it seemed, I had the early beginnings of what would become one of my most prized possessions.  And then I had this picture (I've added the title and my name to it because I don't want people using the painting without my permission).

This isn't just a picture of a couple of dancers.  It's a picture that means so much more, but you have to read Heartfall to full understand it.  There is so much depth to it.  It inspired me to write other scenes to tie back into this painting.  Heartfall isn't just a story I wrote.  It's a personal story about some of my own struggles.  I didn't have a Sebastian, but in so many ways I am Claire.  This painting is about beauty, trust, confidence, and pure love.  

So, these are my two favorite pieces of art and the reasons I love them.  

Yesterday, I peeked ahead at today's question so I could have some time to think about what I was going to write knowing I'd be short on time.  My oldest son is graduating from fifth grade today. *SIGH*

Don't even get me started on all the ways this day is so emotional for me.  I'm so proud of him, but he's just growing too fast.

Anyway, I thought I had everything figured out yesterday when I read it.  The quick answer is have I spoken up when I saw something going on that was wrong is yes.  A lot.  

Maybe it's a combination of fearing I'm being recorded for the television show, What Would You Do.  No, seriously, maybe it's because I feel it's my civic duty to help others when they're in trouble.  I was raised by a village.  My parents, my brother and sister, my grandparents.  Every one of them taught me to do unto others as I'd have them do unto me.  This is how I try to live my life.  When I see someone being mistreated, I put myself in their shows.  But I was also taught to be a leader, not a follower.  So, even if I'm the only one who's speaking out about injustice, if I feel in my heart it's wrong, I'm going to say something (usually).

As an author, I've learned I have to tame this side of myself a bit.  There's so much drama.  Initially, I thought I could tackle it all, be the one to stand up for these injustices, but I learned that it's too much of a burden in most cases. From time to time, though, I just can't be quiet.

But I digress.  The first instance I thought of was in 2005 at the University of Tennessee vs. University of South Carolina game.  We were new parents on our first out of town trip away from Noah.  Chad and I are a house divided.  He's a UT fan, and I'm a USC fan.  Every year we'd been together, UT had beaten us.  This year, though, the game was super close.  Carolina was finally starting to give them a run for their money.  It was looking good for us.

Because we get our tickets from my sister, who is a season ticket holder and devout USC fan, we were in the visitor section at Neyland Stadium in Knoxville, Tennessee.  Chad was decked out in his all orange attire, and I was donning my garnet and black.  

My husband is the most quiet football fan ever.  He analyzes the game, watching intently.  He rarely says a word.  In fact, I think he just wants to be left alone.  He loves being in the crowd, but he hates obnoxious behavior.  

Which is funny because I'm the one who gets riled up.  I'm the one who talks trash.  Of course, every year, I'd tried to talk trash (flirty trash, of course).  It always came back to bite me in the butt when we lost.  In the end, I didn't feel too bad because his team still won.  This kind of became a playful thing with us.  He'd be quiet the whole game.  I'd talk trash.  He'd smirk at me knowing I was digging a fan grave because my team sucked.  I'd smile back because I knew it too, but I love the game.  The football one and the one we were playing with each other.

But this night was different.  It was looking very much like we were going to finally beat UT, and I wasn't prepared for how bittersweet that would be because the pain and agony on my husband's face hurt my heart.  

At some point, the obnoxious guy behind us jabbed his finger into my husband's shoulder.  My sweet, non-obnoxious, kind, gentle husband.  He leaned down (he was a row above us) into Chad's face when he turned around and started yelling all kinds of UT hate at Chad.  Chad is the type that isn't going to fight back.  He's not going to talk trash like this guy wanted.  He just stood there staring at him, like are you done?  At some point, Chad turned around and ignored him.  That only added fuel to the fire.  The guy wanted to pick a fight, and I guess since Chad was the only UT fan in this area, he seemed like an easy target.  Or maybe he thought because Chad was so quiet, he would win a verbal throw down.  

And I guess he wasn't afraid of loud mouthed, trash talking wives, either.  

After so long, I'd had enough.  Between Chad's despair over the impending loss and his mouth, I'd had enough.  Chad knows me.  He whispered something like, "Ignore him.  He's probably drunk."

Ignore him?  How could I ignore him.  He was in MY ear talking trash about MY husband.  Reminder.  My sweet, lovable, kind, gentle husband.  

So, I finally turned around.  Was I a bit scared?  Eh, maybe a little bit, but I was more afraid for him because if he didn't shut up, I was going to have him kicked out of that huge stadium at the very end of the game right before Carolina won the first game against UT in ages. 

I put my hand up, as if to say stop, and I can't remember exactly what I said because it's been ten plus years, but it was something like, "Leave him alone.  He's minding his own business watching the game.  You should do the same.  Isn't that why you're here?  To watch the game?  Or do you want to fight?  If you want to fight, go find someone else because we're here to watch the game.  And our team..." I pointed to my shirt.  "Is about to win.  I'd really love to watch that in peace.  So could you please just shut up?"  His jaw dropped.  He shut up.  I smiled, then I turned around, realizing there was a hand tugging me, urging me to chill.  

When I was facing the field, Chad grumbled in my ear, "I told you not to say anything.  You're going to get us shot."

Of course, this made me kind of chuckle.  Okay.  By then, maybe I was a bit scared when he put it like that. 

Especially when I felt a finger jab my shoulder.  I definitely was terrified to turn around.  So, I didn't.

Obnoxious fan leaned down into my ear.  "I'm really sorry."  I turned around at this point, feeling a little safer.  He explained he was just excited about the way we were playing ball.  He continued to apologize profusely, telling me that wasn't his normal behavior, and that he didn't want any trouble.  

That's when I said the line I will remember forever.  I pointed to my husband.  "You should be telling him this, not me."

So, he jabbed his finger back into Chad's shoulder.  My husband, who was thoroughly annoyed at this point, turned around and accepted the guy's apology.  They shook hands.  And I finally was able to smile. 

We won that game.  It was bittersweet.  I don't tolerate bullying well because I've been bullied.  And even though Chad acted like it didn't bother him, how could it not?  

There are other instances, like the time when I called the police because a guy left his toddler in the car while he ran into the store.  And the toddler didn't have a car seat.  I was terrified for that baby, not for me.  Doing the right thing was easy when I saw someone doing something wrong.  

Do I always do stop people when I see wrong doings?  No.  Because sometimes I make the decision that my family's safety is paramount.  But when I think I can make a difference without putting the ones I love in imminent danger, it is instinctual for me to intervene.  Even if I'm scared.  

First, my favorite way to spend a lazy day is contingent on the reason for it being lazy not being illness related.  

Because of mitochondrial disease and idiopathic intracranial hypertension (IIH), I spend a lot of time in the bed appearing lazy.  Growing up, I didn't know about any of these conditions, and I was often called just that for my lack of energy.  

Being sick isn't fun, and so it's not a part of my favorite way to spend my time, especially on a lazy day. That also includes being so tired the thought of getting out of the bed is daunting.  

But with that said, I'm a pretty active person otherwise, and I love to be busy when I'm feeling well.  So, I guess I've just talked myself into a circle because most of the time when I'm having a lazy day it's because I'm all out of energy to do anything else.

Let me go back about fifteen years.  When Chad and I first got married, we both were working full time or I was going to school full time.  We lived a pretty normal life (what is normal anyway?).  We went to our different work places, usually leaving at the same time in the morning.  Then, we met for lunch most days.  In the evenings, I got home before him most of the time, so I would cook or we'd meet to grab dinner out.  It felt like we didn't see each other a whole lot.  Looking back, we saw each other a lot more than we do these days.

On the weekends, we usually spent Saturdays doing something fun.  Shopping or browsing.  We just wanted to get out and about.  However, on Sundays, you'd find us being quite lazy.  We had a dog then, Tootsie Lou.  She was a Cairn Terrier.  She was my baby before I had mini-humans.  Chad and I would either hang out in the living room or in our bedroom, cuddling and watching Lifetime movies with our little family.  

Not much has changed in the past fifteen years about how I like to spend my downtime.  When I am not active, working, and I'm trying to relax, my kids will tell you our favorite activity is to "love" in my bed.  This is the same as cuddling.  I'll say, "Give me some love."  Sometimes they'll ask me for it.  What we watch has changed.  Some days I'll read instead of watching television.  

But relaxing for me, being lazy for me, includes doing as little as possible.  All reference to responsibilities are gone.  There is no adulting.  It requires as little use of my mind as possible too.  Sometimes, my brain just needs a break.

Most of all, it's just chilling, spending time with the people I love.  

That's my favorite way to spend a lazy day.

I'm a writer, but I'm not the best blogger.  Well, let me rephrase that.  I'm not the best at randomly coming up with stuff to talk about on a daily basis on a blog.  I've been trying to blog more routinely, but I'd like to be posting more than just teasers and giveaways.  I want this place to have substance, reflection, depth.  In other words, I want it to be more meaningful to me.

The day I found out I was pregnant with Noah, I started a baby blog.  So many people had been praying for us to conceive after two years of infertility and multiple surgeries, I couldn't wait to tell everyone, but the thought of repeating the same information over and over was daunting.  See, the very day I found out I was expecting, I encountered my first complication, and I was desperate for support and prayers that I wouldn't miscarry.  My progesterone was four.  Girls typically start their cycle with a level that low.  My body was basically telling itself to shed my lining, and that would have been catastrophic because there was precious cargo in there.

It went like this:

We are so excited to be expecting after so long of trying to have a baby and so many health problems. We are thankful for the timing, which is perfect in respects to me finishing school. We go for our first ultrasound on Monday and are hoping to be able to hear the heartbeat. We're still a little on edge with the low progesterone, but we have to put our faith in the Lord, which has already blessed us with a pregnancy. The clothing sale is going on at AFBC, and I plan to look around tomorrow. Shots are frustrating because it's hard to get the progesterone in the needle....and Chad gets squirmish, but he's doing great. Hurricane Ivan made landfall today. There have been so many hurricanes already since we have conceived this baby. We were in Hilton Head right before Frances hit, and we thought I may be pregnant, but we brushed that idea off because we were so used to not being so lucky. Gosh, we can't wait to meet our little one. I don't know how we will make it another 8 months. We spent the first one not even knowing we were expecting. Amanda is so excited. She is bringing me some maternity clothes tomorrow. That's enough for tonight.

***

But spoiler alert as to how that turned out...Noah turned eleven a week ago.

Blogging about him came naturally.  It's how I managed to make it through some of the most trying times of my life (and his).  A year or two ago, I looked at my backup of that blog and realized I had about 80,000 words written in the first three years of his life before I quit.  I'll publish that blog along with a book about all we've been through when he gets older in hopes of helping others avoid the trauma we've been through.  But for now, some of the wounds are too fresh, and it's tucked away in a safe place - a hidden treasure.

My point is I'm capable of blogging regularly when I have a purpose.  It's something I've wanted to do since becoming an "official" author, but I had no clue what to say, what to talk about.  Funny because I'm quite chatty.

This weekend, I was in Five and Below with my family walking to the check out counter to buy Noah new headphones for his birthday when my eyes saw this book called 300 Writing Prompts.  It's supposed to be a journal where you hand-write your entries, but my hands get tired because of the mito, and I knew when I saw it, this book was the challenge I'd been searching for.  I wish it was 365 writing prompts so I could do one each day for a year, but maybe y'all could supply the other 65 prompts/questions.

Some days may not be long depending on my life.  And if I don't have access to the internet, I'm going to write them in my book and transfer them to the computer later.  But regardless, my goal is to write an entry for the next 300 days (at least).

For me.  

Because I'm tackling some of the areas in my life where I've felt like I couldn't do something, and I want to prove myself wrong.  I know I can blog.  The question is can I do it consistently?  Can I finish this task?

That's where you come in to play because I'm hoping you'll read, comment, and hold me accountable.  
Also, I'm hoping to have some guest bloggers, interviews, etc., on the blog soon.  These are all goals I've had for myself for some time, and I'm finally ready to tackle them, check them off, and make some new goals for myself.  

So, tomorrow, I'm going to start with prompt one.  That's all I have for now.