Category: feelings

feelings

growing up, awkwardly

abby mumford

i realize that in the grand scheme of things i am quite young. i have a lot left to learn. but you can’t deny that i have a bit of knowledge stored in this brain of mine. even if it is a tad unbalanced.

for instance, my conversations this weekend ranged from mortgages to reality TV. from savings accounts to “that’s what the kids are calling it.” from wedding invitations to my obsession with twitter. from vintage wines to blue raspberry slushes. from current love affairs to celebrity crushes. from washing machines and clotheslines to the sexiest bras. from taxes to toilet paper. from splitting the check to sugar cookies. from student loans to one drink too many. from compost piles to high school memories. from donations to double dipping. from directions home to salt and pepper shakers. from budgets to bud light aluminum cans. from car parts to that’s what she said.

i think i’m headed, albeit wobbly, in the right direction. i just hope that along the way i don’t lose my silly side. because adult conversations, while necessary, can be a bit dry. and who doesn’t like to get wet every now and then?

(looks like i’ve got some growing left.)

feelings

happy blogiversary, self

abby mumford

it’s been a FULL year since i transformed my OLD to a live blog with real readers (you, and you, and you, thank you!) and grown up thoughts and immature ramblings. what a ride it’s been. thanks for listening and commenting and reading. cheers to another year of writing deadlines and whimsical musings and wondering how to get more of you to speak up. cause i heart you, readers, talk to me.

hey, what’s an anniversary without presents?

boring.

i got permission from his parents…and so, without further ado (dear readers), my present to you, live on-stage, performing for the first time as a solo artist (with a little help off-screen from his older brother):

LIAM AND HIS AIR GUITAR.

but first, turn on your speakers. ok, GO.

p.s. sorry about the quality. it’s from my sis-in-law’s phone to my phone to my email to youtube. i’m not so sure this little video was supposed to traverse the interwebs. but how could i not share this guy with you?

p.p.s. thanks to brother G for all the tech help. i couldn’t have done it without your help. on many levels.

feelings

the fourth of july arrives early

abby mumford

as i close in on a finished first draft of my MSS, i am looking for ways to get critiques. i stumble upon a contest for first lines of a novel. i enter. i don’t make it past the first round.

burn.

but then the writing community does what it does so well, it takes defeat and turns it into a WIN. and so, those of us that didn’t reach round two got a second chance. we were able to enter the first five lines of our novel for constructive criticism, because clearly, we need it.

after my five lines went up, four comments were given. four whole comments. that means there are four people who’ve read fives lines of my work. this may not sound like a lot to you dear reader, but in my secluded world, it’s a minor miracle. {editor’s note from 6.30.10, two more comments went up for a grand total of SIX comments. *grin*} and the feedback they left is super helpful because i’ve reached a point where i’m almost over saturated by this story. i know each word backwards and forwards and and i don’t know what parts make sense and what parts are unclear because it ALL sounds like gobbledegook to me.

in fact, their comments sparked a little something in my brain. something i’ve been pondering for awhile. i need to start my story at chapter 2 and work chapter 1 in as flashbacks. it’s scary (to say the least) and difficult (somewhere in the middle) and daunting (to say the most), but honestly? my brain is feeling a bit like this:

which is to say my creative juices are EN FEUGO! and life is good.

feelings

june 21, where are you (part deux)

abby mumford

it’s going to be a logistical mad house as we squish people into every nook and cranny of my parents’ house. but it’s sister E’s big day. it’s important we all show up. i called maga to discuss the latest arrangements, which include us potentially sharing a room.

me: i hear we’re going to be roommates.

maga: i know! won’t it be fun? you should know, i don’t snore. do you?

as adorable as that question was, it got me thinking because my dad snores. LOUDLY. it’s kind of unbelievable. and a lot unbearable. i don’t know how my mom does it.

actually, i do.

during one particular session where walls were vibrating and reverberating with his sleep, i asked her how she could handle being so close to something that is louder and more annoying than those vuvuzelas from the 2010 world cup. she smiled and said, “i read an article many years ago that detailed how a wife was dealing with the untimely death of her husband. the last line said something to the effect of  ‘and what i miss most is the sound of him snoring.’ i haven’t been bothered by his snoring since.”

it’s these conversations with maga that start out at one place (figuring out which posters we’ll hang up for the week, what PJs we’ll wear) and end up in another spot (a lesson on love) that make me grateful i have time to get to know her. and through her, my mother. and through my mother, me.

and no, i don’t snore.