Irish Spring Soap Commercial (1980)

"As I C it"

Remember that Irish Spring Soap commercial where the woman is showering out in the bushes? I remember wondering if my mom was going to make me turn the channel, but when she didn't I started reevaluating my moral code. Maybe it was okay to shower outside, or maybe she was locked out of her house by those wicked children of her's, but needed to get that morning shower in regardless. Hey, women can be quite innovative you know! Those were the days when a soap commercial was the sexiest thing on TV, unless you counted the Professor from Gilligan's island, or Ponch from Chips. Ok...I guess I could add Farah Fawcett to the hottie list, but that just seems sort of obvious, doesn't it?

But times have changed. Today I can hardly sit with my kids and watch dancing with the stars, what with their loincloths loosely wrapped around their privates, or even watch American Idol on the nights they have their superstar show. Remember Usher? And what was up with the Black Eyed Peas the other night? Don't get me wrong, I'm an occasional fan, and often a fan of Fergie, but the swimsuit with hipster boots was U-G-L-Y, but more insulting than that outfit was the song itself! Talk about Dumbing down America!! There were four lyrics in the entire four minutes they were on stage. Wait. Was that all it was? It felt sooo much longer!


However, to be fair, I wanted to hug Alicia Keys. She looked beautiful and modest, and she sang beautifully, even when her voice didn't want to cooperate. But on the whole I am rarely a fan of American rock at all. The songs are just stupid. the lyrics forgettable. The beat, hypnotically nauseating. THERE ARE a few exceptions:Blue October & the killers are two of them, but for the most part the music is dumb, dumb,& dumber. Not a poet, or deep thinker in the whole hip gyrating group. (You don't even want to know what I think of our Lady Gaga.) Can you say costumey? Gimmicky?

The same goes for a lot of other sitcoms on TV. I've become a bit of a Glee fan of late. Sometimes it is hilarious. Being in a show choir in High School myself it's uncool angle hits close to home, though I am relieved to say I never did experience a slushy to the face. I love to hate Sue Sylvester, and ogle over good ole Will. The writing is clever and funny and the music is incredible. But Tuesday nights show left me feeling a little sick to my stomach. The whole "Like a Virgin" scene was more than a bit unsettling. Now I hear it was so successful they are going to do another show in the fall. Really? They know this show is geared towards kids right? Oh boy...


I know I'm coming off as a prude, but I'm really not. I love music. I love rock and roll. I took my two boys to the Muse concert last month and rocked out with the best of them. I love movies, and TV sitcoms, and dramas. Our favorite date night usually includes a movie and popcorn. I love watching House, but wonder why a hospital administrator needs to dress like a hooker? For a time I was a closet Desperate Housewives junky until it became too unbearable, and now it seems that they are going to do the same thing with Glee. Can't you give a sister a break? I stick up for TV and music and yet that "Industry" continues to let me down. Maybe all the producers, stars and music people are too hyped up on red bull to notice, but I for one am getting tired of it. And for those of you who say you just don't watch TV, listen to music, or go to movies, I say YUCK! I don't want to live in that kind of world. Why not let our voices be heard instead of just turning out heads. I don't know...any ideas?

Maybe we need to all stock up on Red Bull so we can match their unnerving energy. Maybe we should cry foul. I don't know what works. I've written letters a few times. Once to the producers of Desperate Housewives asking them to please spare us the plunging necklines! It makes me wonder...aren't they good enough actors without showing us their cleavage? Won't we still like those shows if we don't know what cup size they wear? Are we all so simple? Are we all so dumb? Oh yes, its that dumbing down America aspect again. Well I don't know about you, but I've got to go get in line for some Obamamoney. So until next time,"That's how Becky C's it."

How not to sell your house in six months...

I know how to sell a house. Really I do. I've sold two so I must be good at it right? Our first house in Las Vegas sold in a little over two weeks. Our second place in Kaysville sold in ten days with two offers. We looked for two days, made an offer on our current house and were moved out within a month. It was over before it even started. It was great.

So when we decided to put our house on the market again it seemed like old hat. First thing- we got to work. We cleaned the place up, replaced the awful tile countertops with granite and boxed up about half of the kids toys; the kinds that have too many little pieces like barbies and legos and stuff. We scrubbed, polished and organized until we were certain it was picture worthy.

Anyway, after six months the house has still not sold. It's frustrating, but okay at the same time. Our kids are still in their same classes, have their same friends and pretty much have been blessed with an "extension" of sorts. But living in a house that is for sale is tough. I admire all the moms out there who keep a spotless house even with lots of kids. I don't know how they do it. I guess you have to be a take charge, don't mess with me kind of mom, who adores cleaning, to make sure kids beds are always made, clothes are picked up, toys are put away. I'm not great at this. Our house is tidy, but not in model home condition except for the ten minutes before the realtor gets there. I just can't make my kids not live in the house. They make forts, assemble lego skyscrappers and strange k'nex airplane thingamajigers, and spread their plethora of papers and homework out on the table, the counter, the living room floor, and my bed. Then there are the shoes. I don't know how it works, but they are everywhere, and I am constantly tripping over them, or yelling for my kiddos to put them away, or putting them away myself when I give up on it ever getting done. I must have put away ten pairs of shoes the other night. And don't get me started on the coats and jackets. It's crazy. My kids drop their coats the MINUTE they get in the house. In fact there is usually a trail of jackets, backpacks, and shoes all the way down the hall to the kitchen. It's like a strip show. I wonder if I keep the house too hot and my kids can't take it? Maybe they are allergic to the laundry soap? It wouldn't be too bad except you can times this by 5. Even my preschooler has learned to drop her load at the door.

So my point is; the house is still for sale. I have five kids who don't understand what all those hooks in the laundry room are for; don't understand why I insist they take down their multi fort/community center made of every blanket we own in the house, and cry the minute I announce that someone is coming to look at the house tomorrow. I'm barely hanging on while my husband travels the earth and I'm stuck wondering what I am doing wrong until I look out the window and see my dog has gotten out and is barking at a nice family who is attempting to grab a flyer from the for sale sign...hmmm, maybe I've had this all wrong. Bad dog Lady! Bad dog!

By the way, let me know if you are interested in a five bedroom, four bath beauty. :)

Thoughts about my latest story...

I've been working on a story about a girl who feels like she's made the wrong choices in her life and wishes she could do it over. I started this story last summer and then put it away for a few months when I got hung up on an idea. Amazingly in the shower the other day I was able to clear up my concerns and suddenly I am biting at the bit to start writing it again.

The thing with this story is that I am basing it out of St. Anthony where I grew up as did most of my friends. One day last spring I was home for a few days and I went running along the river and couldn't help but think what a wonderful place it was to grow up, and wouldn't it be a great setting for a story! You've got the picturesque setting of the Snake weaving its way through down town, a lovely little park that really could be quite remarkable if the city had the money, and come on, the sand bar would make for a great love scene right? So I had this crazy idea for a story and walla! Then I got stuck on a technical difficulty. When you're writing a story that is sort of complex that can happen. Anyway, I am back on track with this little story that I think will be as fun to read as it is fun to write.

So here is what I am asking from some of you: Any great memories of St. Anthony you want to share? Here's an example I am using in the book: She( my protagonist) reminisces about her youth and tells the story about riding her bike with her sister to the Fountain where they ordered strawberry shakes and counted a thousand pieces of previously chewed gum under the bar. (I indulge a bit more, but to keep it short, that's the gist.) She spends a lot of time at the sand bar, jumping off the well and climbing the water tower as a kid ( I know the water tower is gone now, but when we write fiction we can fudge a bit.) And goes fishing a lot with her dad and then eventually her boyfriend/husband.

Anybody want to share a rafting story? The river is a major point in the story. Especially since someone dies on the river and it turns into a bit of a murder mystery. But I may be giving too much away. Anybody jumped off the bridge? If you know me at all you'd know the answer to that question for me pretty quickly. So I'd love to hear what it felt like. Any cool fishing spots? Something near Chester Dam? Everything in this story is fictional, but I do steal from real places and real events, such as the 24th of July parade, and her house which is that really cool house across from the sandbar. I even went through it last summer and the lady was so nice about it. In fact in the beginning of the story there is a big 24th of July party at the park. I've always thought it would be an awesome place for a totally decked out party and in my story the funds, and the know how are readily available, so I was finally able to have my dream summer party at Keefer park.

You can always think about it and send me a private message via facebook, or just write a comment.

New Year Resolutions

Welcome 2010 and good riddance 2009.

Sound Familiar?

I don't know what it was with 09, but I really didn't care for it. It was like an old hamburger left in the back pocket of a hot suburban. (yes, this happened to me and was not pleasant.)

So unpleasant that I'm going to expound. (By the way, don't you love this pic of Macy in the lipstick? Looks like she got in the sauce too. Naughty, Naughty.

So here's the story:

The car stunk. It does that a lot with five kids and lots of road trips. I was cleaning it out, looking for the source of the "smell", when I innocently stuck my hand in a back pocket and pulled out a BLACK, MOLDY Hamburger-- HALF EATEN-- mind you, which means that someone stuck it in there ON PURPOSE and then LEFT IT THERE for like a month! DOES IT SEEM LIKE I'M SHOUTING? Well, sorry, but sometimes the things my kids do drive me bonkers! And the memory is still a little fresh.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah, Happy New Year




Resolution time: I resolve to stop eating chocolate. HA! Just kidding! NOTHING will get that to happen, but I thought I'd sound strong willed for a moment.

Real Resolution: I resolve to write a story that I can actually send to an agent with confidence. Is that possible?


Speaking of agents, one piece of advice agent Jane gave me when I met with her in December was that I needed to pick a genre. A voice. A writer wanting to be published needs to market themselves. Are you a romance writer? Mystery, Womens Fiction? Then you need to put yourself neatly on the shelf and write.



So I ask myself, what kind of writer am I? Well, the first thing is obvious. I am a romance writer, but I don't want to be one of those sappy, over-sexed Harlequins with the Fabio type male neatly painted on the front. I want my stories to mean something more. But this assignment has me stymmed. I've gone back through all my stories. There are four of them. Two are finished. I picked up the third story a few days ago and began reading. I started it in the early summer and then got stuck on an idea and put it away for a few months. Now seeing it with fresh eyes has me excited again. I like the story. Heck, I like my first story, but I'm not sure if it is publishable, though I love it. Not "High Concept" enough. I think I want to be a women's fiction writer with some romance tying it neatly in a bow. Or maybe a romance writer with some fiction tied in. I also like a little mystery, some conflict and lots of tension.Well, I've been paralyzed long enough. (One month to be exact) and I can't wait to get writing again. Whatever I am I plan to be true to it. (Isn't that what Shakespeare admonished?)


What are your resolutions?

Happy New Years everyone.

What I learned at the Writers Workshop...

I am very excited today!

Not because my cold is starting to dissipate, or because I've just caught pink eye from one of my lovely chillens, but because I just returned from an Awesome Writers Workshop!

Yes, this blog is going to be about writing, so before you tune out I just want to say that I feel very hopeful about my future!

It was an interesting workshop. Eight writers, including myself, in two cabins for five days, writing. Sounds fun right? My husband said he'd rather hang himself, but to each his own.

Anyway, it was great and I mean that. I met an agent who told me my story sounded old-fashioned and she didn't know where she'd put it on the shelf, and I still think it was a great experience. In fact that's what made it so positive. I didn't go away with my head full of myself, but with a plan. A foundation to take me to the next level.

So this is the latest plan of attack. I'm going to read like crazy. Pick a genre and read the heck out of everything being spewed from the publishers mouth so I can figure out where I belong. I'm also going to be practising these writers drills so I can find my "voice". That's what they all want. A clear, strong voice and someone that knows for sure what genre they are writing in. So the next few months for me are going to be soul searching. What the agent reiterated was that you have to find your "niche" and stick with it. Only when you are famous can you hop around and hope to have any sort of a following. After all it is a business. Somewhat grudgingly I'll accept this, though I really don't like being labeled or pinned down, but I get what she's saying.

Any writers out there want to share how they picked their genre? Or maybe you could pass along some favorite books for me to read.

I always love your thoughts.
Until next time

It's December already?

It's ten o'clock Thursday night. I'm sitting in the darkened living room staring into the abyss and feeling totally overwhelmed. My nose is the size and color of a strawberry and I've got ten little drummer boys beating against my already swollen sinus's and I'm thinking, Bah humbug.

Normally I look forward to the holidays with much anticipation. We usually go traipsing through a Christmas tree farm, or in the very least a grocery store parking lot to get our tree right after Thanksgiving, and the lights--the lights are always up before the first snow flies, which around here would have been about two weeks ago. Yet here I sit. And I've got nothing.

I don't know what is happening, but my life is in a tailspin, and I can't keep it all together anymore. Hubby is working an hour and a half away and often stays away for two or three days during the week and I don't know, I just need him to come home and do a bunch of stuff. But really what is kicking me in the tail, is this monster of a cold I've come down with. Sinus pressure, ear ache, and the ugliest snotty nose you've seen since your two year old nephew wiped his mucus on your new pair of pants.

It doesn't get better at night either. It's one of those, gagging, wake you up in the middle of the night, cause you must have water before you choke to death, kind of coughs. Then there's the post nasal drip to think about. What's there to think about? How I'm going to wedge a little piece of tissue up my nostril without it tickling me into a sneeze, or worse,worrying that it will become lodged until spring. It's ugly. I'm ugly and my head is so full of gunk that I don't even want to think about Christmas yet. And don't even get me started on those steamy things you stick up your nose to drain all the...Okay I have said way too much about this.

But this is what is so cute about having children. I was lamenting the fact that we still didn't have a single Christmas decoration up, let alone a tree and my little three year old piped up, "Yes we do!" and then she climbed off the couch, ran upstairs and came down with a little Christmas tree that has been the only piece of landscaping for the barbie house all summer, (since we forgot to put it away last Christmas see, and I was feeling way too lazy to pull down the Christmas box just for one tiny little piece of greenery.

So here is our Christmas tree. Cute isn't it? And how proud Macy was for making everything all better. You know what was the best though? We didn't even have to walk across the parking lot to get it. That's my kind of Christmas Tree!