Doing a Snoopy Dance!

And since I have no dancing abilities, it's a scary sight to behold. But anyway, I'm dancing because I just heard last year's Here With Me, the last book in my Perry Square series, is a National Readers' Choice Award Finalist!

Now, before you think the news has given me a swollen head, know that I spent yesterday stripping seventeen year old (I know the date because it was penciled in under the paper) wallpaper from the bathroom walls. Painting tomorrow. Plus I've just finished washing all the windows, putting in the screens, and doing dishes. Yep, no swollen head, just a bad Snoopy Dance! LOL

Holly

Stars

Tomorrow night I'm going to see Man of La Mancha. I'll confess, I'm excited. Okay, so the musical is a bit more operatic than I normally prefer, but I love the underlying messages. Reach for the stars. See the world as beautiful and it will become more beautiful. And I guess, they're philosophies I've always tried to live by.

Writing, for instance. When I decided to try to write a book, that was truly reaching for the stars. I'd always been a big reader, but writing a book is a whole other ball of wax. And I had more than one fall on my journey...I imagine there are more falls in store for me. But I pick myself up and try again. That's all we can do. The only other option is not to try... Not much of an option.

And seeing the world as a beautiful place... if we could all embrace that point of view, think how much nicer the world would be. A smile here, a kind word there. One of my favorite things is writing nice notes. When someone does something exceptional, I don't just thank them in person, I put it in writing.

One of my favorite nice not stories is about a security check point at the St. Louis airport. I have a metal plate in my leg, and make airport buzzers go off. So I begin and end most trips with being frisked by the security staff. Most checkpoints are okay, the people are professional and to the point. But the checkpoint in St. Louis had some of the nicest people. They went out of their way to make the experience painless for me. And as the lady was frisking me, I watched the guys are the x-ray machine. A little old man was a couple people back in their line, and to be honest, his carry-on bag weighed as much as he did. So, one of the security guys came out, helped the two ladies in front of the old man put their bags on the belt, then helped the old man. It was a nice way to help the gentleman without calling attention to him. I was so impressed by this group's genuine kindness that I wrote a note to the airport. And I got the nicest note back from their department head. Uh, I don't think security gets a lot of nice notes. LOL Maybe, the next time someone is nice to you, send a note. It might brighten their day.

Wow, all that from Man of La Mancha! LOL Think of me tomorrow night a very happy Broadway junkie!

Holly

The WRONG Holly Jacobs

Rumor has it that a certain professor feels I'm the wrong Holly Jacobs.

Okay, you're scratching your head. Let me back up. For a classroom assignment, a professor told his class to write an obituary, then assigned them a person to write it about and assured them that they could find enough info on Google to do write their obit. A girl named Kristi was assigned...Holly Jacobs. She googled the name and...there I was. 96 out of the first 100 entries were about me. And Kristi wrote my obit. I died on Lake Erie in March. Now, she didn't mention how I died on the lake, but I'm sure I was doing something exciting. March...on the lake. Hmm. I was probably ice fishing and caught a whale of a fish. Now, you probably think I'm going to say the fish pulled me in, but no. I was so excited about that fish that I did one of my goofy, Snoopy dances of joy...on ice. I slipped, hit my head and died. Sad, isn't it? I digress.

Anyway, Kristi wrote a lovely obit. Talked about my tragic death, the family I left behind (and would someone please tell my son, I forgive him for leaving so many clothes on the floor that I haven't seen his carpet in months), and the books I've written, and was about to write. It was nice to see my life summed up by someone else. She turned it in to the professor, and he gave it back without a grade. When Kristi asked about it, he told her, "You've got the wrong Holly Jacobs."

Now, I'll confess, I've always felt like the right Holly Jacobs. But maybe I was wrong. So I called someone who should know... my mom. She assured me that after being in labor for thirty-eight hours with me, she was positive I was the right Holly Jacobs. I asked my husband, he asked if I wasn't the right Holly, did he have to pay alimony? Then he asked, what's the other Holly look like? Oh, yeah, I married a funny man. Friends and children assured me of my rightness. And of course, my dog, Ethel Merman, thinks I'm the right one. But I wasn't right enough for Kristi's professor.

I feel guilty. As if the ten years of my writing life haven't been quite enough to make me the right Holly Jacobs. That maybe I should have worked harder, written more, done something else in order to be the right Holly Jacobs. But alas, I didn't, and poor Kristi has to pay the price for my slacking with a gradeless obituary. SIGH.

Poor Kristi, I was the wrong Holly Jacobs.

My poor mom, who was in labor for an absurd amount of time in order to bring...the wrong Holly into the world.

My poor husband...okay, so he's not going to be poor if he can get away without paying alimony and the other Holly's better looking.

My poor kids, maybe that other Holly would have been a better mother? Maybe she wouldn't have nagged my son about those dirty clothes on the floor?

Poor Ethel Merman, she still thinks I'm the right Holly, but she's a dog, and not overly bright, so what does she know?

And that poor professor, who, if he met me might find he liked me and even if I wasn't the right Holly Jacobs, I was certainly worth of an obituary.

Geesh. Talk about questioning your existence.

Holly
The wrong Holly Jacobs.