Savor the Success

So this morning I was going to write a blog. It was going to be something about how I'm all done with The Dark Place, thank that Dark Place very much. I even walked my dog before starting work. It was sooo beautiful outside, and I decided to treat myself to some sunshine, crisp air, and movement. It was during that walk, however, that I encountered the first omen of things to come.

The Jehovas were out--in force. I saw the women walking, two by two, up and down the driveways.

It wasn't that they were canvassing the neighborhood that gave me pause. It was my reaction. "If those ladies dare to ring my doorbell, I'm going to release the dog on their sorry bottoms." Whoops, I just thought that? Me? ME? Where did THAT bit of visciousness come from. Bad me! Bad! Bad!

I hung my head in shame. Two of the women happened to be walking toward the sidewalk at that moment. One of them ignored the fact that I was trying to ignore her and said, "Good morning!"

Then I felt even more guilty for thinking such mean thoughts about these ladies.

So I got home and sat down in front of my computer. I'll just bullet the emotional roller coaster ride that transpired between 10 a.m. and, well, now, which is 9 p.m.

10 a.m. Phone rings. It's a private caller. I let it go to voice mail. I start writing my blog: How Not to Fight About Money

10:15 a.m.: Check voice mail. It's Blue from The Morning Show with Mike and Juliet (Fox TVs national morning show). I'd answered their HARO query in search of parents who don't believe in spanking. He wants to pre-interview me. I think, "Holy crapola!"

10:16 a.m. I call my husband and leave him the following message: "Um honey, I need you to call me as soon as you get this. This is VERY important. Um, so, there's this national show interested in having me--well, um us--on air. I need to know if you are willing to do it."

10:17 a.m.: I call my publicist and leave this message: "I have a PR emergency. I mean, it's a good one, but I really need to talk to you..." I explain the rest about the show.

10:30ish: Husband FINALLY calls back. He says, "Sure. Whatever you need." I say, "I love you. You know that right? I really, really love you!"

10:31: I call Blue. He answers his phone. I tell him who I am. We talk. I talk. I talk. I talk. I tell him all sorts of stories. I feed him anecdotes. I spout off one sound bite after another. Then, he asks the question that I am dreading: "Can I call your husband and talk to him?"

I think, "Let's not involve Mr. Strong and Silent shall we? This is about me after all. I'm just dragging him along. Does he actually have to talk?" I say, "Sure, but I'll have him call you."

10:45: I call my husband. I ask him to call Blue. He's in the car, on the highway. He says, "Cal I call him in a couple hours." I think, "No!" But, of course, I say, "Yes, honey, of course."

10:40: My publicist calls back. We strategize. She gives me an A+ for answering the HARO query.

11:30: I try to post my blog to my website. I edit the page. I add the links. I put in all of the paragraph returns. I bold what I what to bold. I press "publish." The page reverts back to the old text. I say something that I can't type. Let's just say it was quite unsavory.

I edit the page again. I press "publish" again. Again all of my changes disappear and the page reverts to the old version.

I not only say something very unsavory. I do something unsavory with my body.

You know the expression: Insanity is making the same mistake over and over again? Well, yeah, I edit the page all over again, only to find, yet again, that it won't publish.

Noon: I call my brother. He tells me he can't figure out what's wrong.

12:30: My husband comes home. I give him Blue's number. I hear him call and leave a message.

1 p.m. I call my web hosting service. I get India. They tell me that the problem is on my end. I say, "Are you sure?" The nice Indian woman in Calcutta tells me she is quite sure.

1:30 p.m. I call my brother. He says he still doesn't know what's wrong.

1:35-p.m. -- 2:30 p.m. I try all sorts of things to fix the problem on my own, many of which involve editing the page and trying to save it again, only to see that, yet again, it does not save.

As I am doing this, I get a call from my husband. "Hey can you give me that guy's number again?"

"Mark I gave you the piece of paper I wrote it on. It was the only place I wrote it. He has a private number. I can't check the caller ID."

Silence.

"I think you can see the outgoing calls on the phone," he says.

"No, even if that's possible, I'll never be able to figure it out. Where exactly did you go in the house while you were here. I will check and find the piece of paper."

He tells me.

I look in the living room. I look in the bedroom. I look in the sunroon. I look in the kitchen trash can.

I bang my head on my desk.

I think my husband dead.

Then I remember that Blue left me a voice message, and that I'd saved it. Doh! I check my voice mail, get his number, and call my husband. I give him the number.

2:35 p.m. One of my least favorite people calls me. Let's just say that it was one of those people who has you on the phone for an hour about something that could have been taken care of in an email.

3:35:I call Adobe, which makes the software I use to update my website. I am put on hold.

3:45 I am still on hold.

4 p.m. I get someone. He tells me he is not the right person. He will transfer me though.

4:15: I'm still on hold. I hang up. I go for a run.

5 p.m. I'm back. I call my husband. "Did you talk to Blue?"

"Yeah, we talked."

"Did it go okay?"

"No."

Silence. I start to try to find a way to get up on my roof.

"Of course it went okay. Why wouldn't it have gone okay?"

Big sigh.

"Oh, that's good. Did he mention whether we would be on?"

"No," he says.

5:30: I pick up our daughter. We go to the grocery store. An employee yells at her for standing too close to one of those hot food stations. She cries. I comfort her as I say as loudly as I can, "We NOT shopping at THIS store EVER again." All of the employees in ear shot look away and pretend I am not standing there talking to myself.

7 p.m. My daughter and I eat huge sugar cookies that I purchased at the grocery store after the crying incident. We both had one, but she didn't finish hers, so I ate the rest of it. I guess you could say that I had one and a half, but I so deserved it.

9 p.m. My daughter is in bed. I head to the computer to call Adobe and sit on hold for the rest of the night. I find out that their tech support closes at 8:30 p.m.

I decide to waste the rest of the night by trying to edit the page that won't publish.

I pull up my site.

The How NOT to Fight About Money page is there--published.

"Uh, what?" I think.

I stare at it. I close my browser. I open it again. Yep, the correct page is still there, published.

I read it. Not one typo. Go ahead. I dare you to find one.

Then I think, "Now what am I going to do for the rest of the night?"

What have I learned from this experience?

1) I'm capable of handling much more stress than I ever thought

2) I'm still caught up in a negative mode. I keep noticing the dark details. I have to remind myself that a lot of GREAT things happened today. I mean, hello, I might be on national TV later this week! That's huge. That they even called for the pre-interview is a huge step.

And hey, the page fixed itself! And my cookie really tasted good.

And my daughter is as cute as a button.

And my husband must really love me.

Yes, life is good. It really is.

Alisa Bowman

www.projecthappilyeverafter.com