Lydia Howe's Blog, page 39

Book Snob: Six Things that Make Me Cringe

Some books I've read recently are so bad that I briefly wonder if I hallucinated them. These books leave me wanting to clutch my head, roll my eyes, heave huge sighs and start a group called fellow-lame-book-readers-unite so we can commiserate together. Only, I don't like bashing particular books on-line, so that wouldn't really work out. But, since I'm not going to give y'all any book titles here, I can discuss   the flaws of these books to my hearts content. 
Now y'all are probably wondering why I read these books so here's your answer: I learn from them. Plus, they always have a few redeeming qualities. And, last but not least of all, sometimes it's the second half of the book that leaves me wanting to shout words of sarcasm. (By the time I get into the second half of a book it's very hard for me to stop reading.) 
Here are some flaws that leave me wondering if the reader and editor were even working on the same manuscript together:
1. Using the same word three times in the space of about ten words. See, using the same word multiple times can get wordy and reduntant. I like sifting through words and choosing the best word so I don't use unnecessary words. Using the same word too many times can make brains hurt.
2. Using the same exact description twice in a book. Sometimes this might work, such as if you use "dark blue eyes" when describing a certain character. But if you're talking about some obscure thing, a character talking to her horse for example and write predictably the horse did not reply, that's semi-ok. But using it twice? Please, no. 
3. Now this might just be me but I like getting introduced to a new word. I see it, look it up (if I'm reading on my kindle, at least) and learn it's meaning. But if the word pops up again. And again. And again? Then ugg. My senses are finely tuned to stop and jump around in my brain, get my attention and pull me out of the story to say, There it is again! The problem is that part of good story-telling is finding out how to not pull your readers out of the story. So, introducing an uncommon word? Yes please. Using it multiple times in a book? No thank you. (When I was explaining this to my mom she disagreed because the receptiveness helps her learn the word. So, to each her own.)   

4. Having a crashing conclusion where everything happens at once. I mean, why not have the main characters nephew be born, her brother-in-law die and her boyfriend propose all within a few hours of each other? Because none of these events inspire very much emotion and that way we can gloss over each individual happening and numb the main character to everything so we don't have to try and explore any of the emotions. Cha-ching. Perfect out for the author and perfect let-down for the reader.

5. When a delicate subject is handled harshly/not handled at all. Seriously. If a character dies (especially unexpectedly) give the other characters some time to grieve. And while there are some people who use humor to diffuse a tense/heart-wrenching situation, not everyone does that. So, to have all the family members sitting around the hospital waiting room telling jokes and laughing and never taking time to grieve (other than crying) isn't realistic at all. There is more to grief than tears and jokes.

6. Having characters gloss over huge betrayals and offering insta-forgiveness and right away being like lets-go-back-to-the-way-it-was-before when the betrayer says he/she's sorry. Especially if the betrayal resulted someone getting hurt or even killed.
Yes, I get the idea of forgiveness. I can even understand how an author would want his/her Christian character to forgive right away because God forgives us. But surely, surely there's still room for internal struggle and doubt, even if it is brief.
Plus, realistically? If someone who you thought you knew well suddenly turns into someone else and after your world explodes comes limping back telling you that they really have changed and asking you to 100% believe them again? Humm... Common sense tells me that this relationship should be taken slowly because they've obviously fooled you once. Who's to say they're not doing it again?

My list could continue, but I've purged my snobby bookish brain enough for today, so I shall stop.

Of course I'd be delighted to hear some of the things that make you cringe when you read so I can learn from you and not make those mistakes myself... Ah, the joys of reading! 

When Life Hands You Lymes #71

A big, cheerful and rather chilly happy Friday to y'all! I'm pleased to announce to you that today is not only a beautiful day, but it's also the six week mark from when I finished the first draft of When Life Hands You Lymes and therefore I can now open the document, read through it and begin the second draft. This is a moment I've been waiting for for a long time now and I'm excited, a tad bit nervous and a little bit scared of what I'll find. 
And, while we're talking about writing, I'm happy to share with you the 71st segment of my fictional story, When Life Hands You Lymes, which, I might add is rather different from the final version of the first draft. Confusing, right? ;) Please enjoy! 
8

I was antsy the entire six hour drive to the doctor’s office. It was May and the sun was shinning, the birds were singing and the sky was a deep blue with fluffy clouds. A typical, beautiful, perfect day. Weather-wise, at least. Mom was in a fantastic mood as she drove with her sunglasses in place and the AC on. I gnawed on the tips of my fingers, determined to try and remain at least somewhat calm. “Why couldn’t the doctor just give us the results over the phone?” I mumbled for probably the hundredth time that day. It wasn’t that I minded the drive, it was just I wanted to have answers and I wanted answers yesterday. More like two years ago. “Because she’s in a conspiracy to help you learn patience.” Mom wasn’t fazed by my wide eyes and jittery legs.  “Patience?” I feigned confusion. “I’m a world champion at patience.”  “So says the girl who can’t sit still.”  I sighed, “This is a big moment.”  “Every moment has the potential of being a big one.”  “Waxing eloquent?” I smiled. A rhyme I had memorized as a little kid popped into my mind and I said it out loud without thinking: “Patience is a virtue, virtue is a grace, both put together make a very pretty face.”  “You’ve got a pretty face so that means you must have patience hidden somewhere inside of you.” Mom looked over at me and grinned, “Why not put a little bit of it into practice before your fiddling drives us both nuts.”  My answer was drowned out by a long yawn. “Ok, I think I’ll curl up and take a nap.” I put my earbuds in and turned on my sleepy time classical playlist. Another yawn came and made my eyes water. Pulling my legs up under me I leaned back my chair, grabbed my blanket and pillow from the backseat and drifted off to dream land.  I awoke when the car stopped and then turned off. “Wait, are we here already?” My words came out groggily.  “Yes.”  “Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” I peeled my legs off the seat and sat up then stretched my arms. “I didn’t want to have to endure any more of your bouncing and finger chewing than necessary.” Mom softened her words with a smile. “I know that this is a big deal for you, it’s a big deal to me, too. I thought the longer you were able to sleep, the less time you’d have to spend dreading and anticipating what the doctor has to say.”  “Thanks, Mom.” I pulled down the mirror and combed my hair into place with my fingers. “Can we go in now?”  At Mom’s nod I climbed out of the car and together we went into the small office building.  Back in the examination room I bit on my lip and let my eyes wander around the room, taking everything in. “Is it just me or is the doctor taking a long time to come back and meet with us?” I asked Mom after it felt like a lifetime had slid by.  “It’s just you.” Mom looked up from the email she was typing on her phone. “Why don’t you read or something. Compose music in your brain or whatever will take your mind off of your current situation.”  I grinned. “Bugging you is actually accomplishing that pretty well.”  Mom started to retort, but the door opened and the doctor walked in.  “Good morning, ladies.”  “Good morning.” I literally bit my tongue in an effort not to verbally pounce on her and ask for my results.  Mom put her hand out in a quiet gesture, reminding me to remain calm.  “How was your drive?”  “Good.” My word came out clipped.  “And how have you been feeling recently, Madalyn?”  I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’d actually be doing a lot better at this moment if I could just hear the results.” 

A Look at May 20th

One of the bonuses about blogging is being able to look back and see what I've done in the past few years. Blogging is a way that I can log the journey life has been taking me on.

Take today, May 20th, for instance. It's a semi-normal day for me. I woke up at around six, had my devotions, read a couple of blog posts about writing, got caught up on watching my dad's Golden Nuggets, spent about two hours getting ready for the class I help teach, as well as working on making a baby blanket while watching the DVD that we play in class. Then, I was running late on time so instead of blogging I hurried to finish a project I was working on that needed to be done before 10:00 am. After I was done with that I went downstairs and heated up some broccoli and rice for a late breakfast and then ate it while listening to a Conference Call for work.


I am home this week. Outside I can hear the birds singing and there's a thick layer of clouds to the East but the sun is shinning and the trees look exceptionally green. Inside, my office is chilly thanks to having my windows open all night long. My office needs straightened and I still haven't totally unpacked from my last two trips. (I have the 'unpack-as-item-is-needed' mentality. Except for dirty clothes, of course.) I have a list of things I need to do today including cutting grass, research, mailing some packages and that sort of happiness.

I was thinking about last year and I remembered that we had been in Europe, more specifically England, on May 20th, 2014, so I looked up the post and read through it, reliving some of the memories.

I remember bemoaning the fact that I wasn't a skilled enough photographer to capture the beauty of London and the surrounding countryside. My visit to the breathtaking and friendly country was one of the highlights of 2014 for me.


Next I decided to look through my posts (which is very easy to do as the blogger on Bloggers Dashboard) and see where I was on May 20th, 2013. As soon as the posts around that date came up, my brain filled with memories.

I spent that week with my adopted parents and it was right after we finished building a kentrosaurus. One of the guys who works at the Creation Museum had come to pick the dinosaur up I was really happy to get to meet him because I'd heard about him and always thought his comments on my adopted parent's Facebook page were really funny. (Since then he's read my blog and every time I see him encourages me which is really great!)

While we were down at the museum that week we went over to some of our friend's house for dinner and they had some other people over as well. One of those "other people" became one of my really good friends.


After looking up what I was doing on this day of 2014 and 2013, I of course wanted to see what I was doing on May 20th, of 2012. Turns out I was in California at the Mission San Juan Capistrano. I remember it having beautiful landscaping and intriguing old buildings. There was also a legend about sparrows or swallows or some such bird, but I can't quite remember what it was all about. It was also exceedingly hot and I recall being very thirsty.  
Plus, I apparently didn't know how to upload pictures at a proper quality and therefore even though it was brightly colored and delightful there's only minuscule evidence of that. 

And there I had it, a quick trip back through memory lane. There are dozens of other memories that pop up when I read each of these posts. Memories regarding coffee mugs, raw meat, crashing waves, expensive cars, cute babies, thatched roofs, antique spoons, charming accents and my list could go on and on. (On a random note, while working on this post I realized that this is the first year in four years that I've been home on May 20th. Yay for home!) 
* * * What about you? What are some of your memories revolving around this time of the year? 

Writing is Not of the Faint of Heart

Six weeks ago I was sitting in a hotel trying desperately to finish the first draft of my book When Life Hands You Lymes. That week I was able to focus, run toward my goal, spend mega hours on writing and plot development and I finished the book that Friday.

Since then though, my brain has been at less than optimum capacity. Now don't get me wrong; it's not like I've been sitting around twiddling my thumbs because I haven't. I read 26 books, spent three weeks in Aruba with my family, spent three days filming with my adopted family, finished the A to Z Challenge, half-plotted a book, lived life, kept up with my other job, cooked dozens of meals, cut large amounts of grass, went to church, graduation parties and a bridal shower, studied the art of writing, and tons of other things. 
But every time I sat down to start my next book... Ugg. It just didn't happen. 
I didn't have writer's block. In fact I've gotten some great ideas and even a few really cool sentences that I've jotted down in my notes. Plus, I know what I want to write. It's more that my brain let out a pitiful whimper and begged for mercy and some rest. 
I've decided there's only so much time and energy I can spend on constructing a character and giving her a reason to live, a goal to run to, find realistic obstacles to pop up in her path so she has to climb over or around them and therefore get stronger, a lie to believe and then discover, a whole supporting cast, compelling setting, a solid character arch, a relatable and consistent personality and a few unique quarks before I need to take a break from it all. 

See, I haven't been tired of writing, instead I'm tired from writing. And that's ok.
Because you know what? I like writing. A lot. I enjoy the process. I get excited when I see the words piling up on a page. I feel a sense of accomplishment when a story begins coming together. A plot twist or an solid sentence can make me gleeful. Knowing that my words are effecting people I don't know and will in all likelihood never meet fills me with a sense of awe.

It's only three more days until I reach the six week mark since I finished writing the book and I'm able to jump into the second draft of When Life Hands You Lymes. I'm antsy to get started, to read the story and determine just how good it really is. To soak the words in and tweak them, rewrite them, lob them off the page and replace them with firmer, more powerful word choices.

I'm also a little bit (make that a lot) overwhelmed at the thought of wading into such a huge project. I wrote on this book every single day for 465 days. I amassed gigantic amounts of words. I already threw out thousands and thousands of the unnecessary words, but I know there will be tons more to chop away at.

I also switched back and forth between writing styles (first person present tense and first person past tense), totally changed the main character's personality part way through, reinvented a close relationship during the last two months of writing and threw myself so many curve balls I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up with them while remaining calm.

It's going to be good though. A massive learning experience. A feat that stretches me. A challenge to tackle. And I can hardly wait for it to arrive.

* * *
What about you? Do you have something you're really looking forward to but slightly dreading at the same time? 

Dear Future Me

Dear Future Me, 
A long time ago when I was a little girl I discovered written words and my life was deeply effected. I used to hold books in my hands, stare at them, hug them and carry them around with me. I would dive into the pages and immerse myself in a story. I would live those stories as I went about my day-to-day chores. I would become the characters as I sat at my desk trying to focus on school. At night I would take the story to the next level, imaging what happened after the writer wrote the last words. 
Growing up I was convinced that being an author was the most amazing job in the world, only it was more than a job, it was a sacred calling. A gift bestowed upon a few hand-picked individuals who floated through life knowing they were special. 

Then I became one of those floating-hand-picked-wonders and I realized that I'm still me. I wasn't transformed overnight into a angel of mercy who always knew exactly what to say or what to write. All my problems didn't dissipate like mist in the hot sun. The world didn't pause and take note of a new book hitting the shelves. And, I still got upset, made mistakes, and felt grumpy and overwhelmed sometimes. I was still human and so are all those authors I dreamed of when I was a little kid (gasp). 

Do you know what would probably be most surprising to younger-me though? The fact that sometimes writing seems down-right unimportant. 

People don't have to have books to live. They do have to have food. And medical care. And shelter. And mothers. But not books. 

There have been times when I just stop and wonder what I'm really doing with my life. Do the hours, days and eventually years I spend on placing words carefully onto pages actually make a difference in the world? Is anyone benefiting from what I'm doing with my life or in the annals of time will my life work evaporate into nothingness? 

 I look at farmers with awe. I look at doctors with awe. I look at nurses with awe. I look at carpenters with awe. I look at mothers with awe. They're doing something amazing. Something that people need. I find it inspiring and the reverence I felt for authors growing up slips and slides a little bit further away from me until I have to squint to even remember it. 

My perspective gets skewed far too easily sometimes.

Then people pop into my life and they remind me that writing is a gift. That it is amazing. That writing can be life changing. Being a nurse is, too. But I wasn't called to be a nurse. Being a farmer is, too. But I wasn't called to be a farmer. Writing is the gift I was given and therefore it is important. It's a gift that was entrusted to me so I can pass it along, adding value to others. 

While I would probably still be alive today if it weren't for books, my life wouldn't be nearly as rich and well-rounded. There are a million thoughts I wouldn't have had. A thousand experiences I wouldn't have known to watch for and step into. Hundreds of perspectives I would have never glimpsed. Dozens of nights I wouldn't have spent deeply moved. A handful of life-changing experiences that would have never been mine. Books don't give and sustain life, but books can change lives. 

So, next time you get down on yourself and wonder if what you're doing really matters, stop, come back to this letter and read it. Remember the awe you felt as a little girl. The joy that welled up inside you at the thought of changing the world through writing. Remember that even if it's a little difference, writing still does make a difference. 

Remember that if you're a mouth you shouldn't fight to be a hand. If you're the eyes, you shouldn't envy the nose. If you're the feet you shouldn't think the shoulders have a more important job. Each job is important for it's own reasons. 

You were given a gift and no matter what you feel at times, you can't let feeling dictate how you live your life. 

You were placed where you are for a reason. Your life does matter. So smile, work through your insecurities and embrace the person you're called to be. Writing is still a fantastic tool. Writing is still the speculator gift you imagined it to be. God gave you a gift, so don't throw it away because you feel insignificant. 

And who knows, maybe somewhere there's a little girl out there who's finding inspiration as she hugs one of your books. 

Love, 
Me 

"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival." -C.S. Lewis 

When Life Hands You Lymes #70

Goodness, my blogging has been sporadic this month, hasn't it? Well, I'm home now so hopefully that means I'll be able to settle back into some semblance of routine again. Thank you, everyone, for hanging in there with me! {Just a note: Yesterday I realized that I had been away from home as many nights as I had been home this year. Yikers.}
And now, I'm happy to share the 70th(!!!) segment of my fictional story, When Life Hands You Lymes , with y'all! Please, enjoy!


The month after our doctor’s visit dragged along. I tried to keep busy so I wouldn’t constantly question what my results were going to be, but it was hard to not let my mind wander back to the ten vials of blood the doctor had collected. Surely those little clear plastic tubes held the answers I was desperate for.  “Hey, do you want to hang out?”  “Sure.” I’d been happy when my phone rang and Julia’s name popped onto my screen. Getting together with her was a treat I didn’t do nearly often enough. “What did you have in mind?”  “If you’re feeling up to it I thought it would be fun to go and visit Cara Martin.”  Cara Martin was a lady from our church who was on bed-rest due to some complications in her pregnancy. “That sounds like a good idea to me.” It didn’t surprise me that Julia suggested something so thoughtful, she’s an amazing girl.  “Alright. I can come and pick you up any time you want.”  I glanced at my clock on the wall, “I can be ready by the time you get here.”  “Sounds good!”  When I actually stopped to think about it I began to freak out that I would’t know what to say to Cara or that I’d freak out once I was in her house because little things seemed to set me off, but I was determined to focus on the positive so I blocked all my worried thoughts out of my brain and plastered a smile on my face. 
Our visit with Cara went surprisingly well. Instead of me cheering her up, she cheered me up. Her sense of humor was still intact and instead of being upset over her bed-rest she was thrilled to know it was helping her baby grow and stay healthy.  When we were ready to leave I leaned over to give Cara a hug. Then, as I was about ready to leave the room Cara grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze, “I know you’ve had some health issues, Madalyn, and I just wanted to let you know that it means the world to me that you came and spent time cheering me up in the midst of it all. I’m used to being active and all over the place so it’s been hard for me to stay still all the time.” Cara’s face lit into a beautiful smile, “But then I see examples like you and I’m reminded that you’re being strong and resting in God’s love and I can, too.”  My eyes widened. “I don’t think I’m doing as good of a job resting in God’s love and being at peace as I should.” More like I knew I 100% wasn’t. I was grumpy about my health problems far too often and had spent hours in the middle of the night pouting at how I couldn’t handle everything that was going on with my body.  Cara either didn’t hear what I said or else she ignored it. “There are times when I feel like having an all out pity-party for myself. Ok, honestly there have been times when I have indulged in pity-parties. I’ve discovered though that they never help, instead they leave me feeling empty inside. I think it’s because when I’m focusing on myself and pity, then I am empty. It’s only when I can fill my life with God’s love for others that I’m content again.”  Cara’s words went around and around in my brain for a long time after we left her house.  “You seem quiet.” Julia pulled up to a stop sign and stopped. “Are you really tired?”  “Actually I was thinking that if you had time I would like to go and hang out at the nursing home for a while and visit the people who live there.”  Julia’s face broke into such a huge smile as she turned on her turning signal that I had to wonder if she’d be hoping for the change in mindset the whole time...  “I’m thinking about getting a puppy.” Julia’s announcement after we got back into the car after the nursing home took me by surprise.  “Why’s that?”  “Let me clarify that. I’m not talking about any little ol’ puppy. I think it would be cool if I could get a puppy and train it to be a therapy dog and then take it to nursing homes and hospitals. Who wouldn’t enjoy getting licked by a sweet little dog?”  “Me.” I laughed. “Although that does sound like a good idea. Is this a spur of the moment one or one you’ve been pondering for a while?”  “I’ve been thinking about it for a couple of months now. I really want to make a difference with my life and this is one way that I feel like I can make a difference.”  For the second time that day I had a sentence running around and around in my head. First Cara is focusing on showing God’s love to others and now Julia’s wanting to make a difference. Maybe if I readjusted my focus in life than I would find more joy and purpose in life, too... 

Filming Outside

We have been doing a lot of outdoor filming today and buuurrrrrr is it cold! I guess that's fitting because we are working on the Ice Age and Alaska "Amazing Adventures with Buddy Davis" DVDs. 

They got a fun shot of my adopted dad in a rowboat on their pond. Their dog, Cricket, was also in the boat but she was lying down most of the time so who knows if she'll actually end up in the final version. 

Right now we are at a beautiful waterfall and I'm sitting on a big, cold boulder writing this. The guys are working at setting everything up for the next shot. 

I've really enjoyed getting to hang out and watch the film crew during the last few days and I can't wait until we get to see the finished DVDs. They're going to be fantastic! 

Second Day of Filming

Today has been a fun day filled with thinking up story ideas, getting things set up, finding locations for the shots we're hoping to do tomorrow and filming. 
It's always amazing to me how much time is spent getting the lighting, cameras, props and all that kind of stuff just right. It can take hours to get ready for a shoot that will end up just being a minute or so of the actual DVD. 

We took a break for lunch after finishing up a couple of shots and the guys are currently getting ready for another one. 
In this shot my adopted dad is going to be talking about animals that were alive during the Ice Age. It's so cool looking at the models of the different skulls and seeing how big they used to be. 

Home Sweet Home

I would say it's wonderful to be home, but I'm actually at my "second home" right now and so I'm not even technically home. 
It is great being back in the USA though. As much as I enjoy being gone coming home, especially in May, makes my heart happy. 

We are smack dap plop in barefoot, dandelion and cutting grass season which is a fantastic place to be. 
May is my second favorite month and is brimming full of things I love. From sweet spring scents to cool nights, bountiful flowers and blue skies, May is filled with delightful memories and hundreds of chances to make even more of them. 
I'm spending the beginning of this week at my adopted parents house. The film crew is here from AiG and they're working on finishing two DVDs that they've been making. It's a lot of fun to watch them work and get ideas for new books. 

I'm on my phone right now (hence the lack of links) and look forward to getting more pictures to share with y'all tomorrow. 
I hope you're having a fantastic Monday! 

When Life Hands You Lymes #69

Hello everyone and welcome to the 69th segment of my fictional story, When Life Hands You Lymes ! 
I'm happy to be home now (we got back in the middle of the night) and hopefully it won't take me long to settle back into normal life (what's that, anyway?), and after I do get settled back in I'll be back to my normal blogging schedule and I'll be able to share with you all about Aruba! 


The drive to the doctor’s was long and I was a grump. Poor Mom. Sometimes I wonder how she’s survived living with me the whole time I’ve been sick. I drive myself nuts, I’m not sure how anyone else handles me.   Finally I shut my eyes and put my earbuds in, determined to crawl into my little shell and remain there until I could emerge a happy, cheerful person.  God, I’m not sure what’s going on here. I felt a deep sigh fighting to get out but I didn’t give it room, I wasn’t going to feel sorry for myself. It would be really neat if this doctor that we’re going to could actually give me answers, but I’m scared to hope for a solution. It seems like I’ve been sick for such an impossibly long time and I’m so tired of it. I grimaced, realizing I was complaining again. When had I let myself slide into the habit of fussing about my life? Not cool.  “Thank you for diving me to the doctor, Mom.” Even though I didn’t feel thankful, I figured I could fake it until I made it. Or something like that.  “You’re welcome.” Mom reached over and gave my leg a little squeeze. “Why don’t you turn the CD player on? I think I have an audio book in and we can listen to it together.”  “Alright.” I turned it on and then settled back as a masculine voice began reading It’s Not About Me by Max Lucado. It wasn’t long until I was caught up in the book and I had to apologize to God for all the times I had made it about me. Sometimes my view of the world was so clouded that I acted like the world revolved around me and like it was everyone’s duty to make my life easier since it wasn’t fair that I was sick. Sometimes my attitude embarrass even me.  “Why don’t we stop and get something to eat now? Our appointment is in two hours and we’re only a little bit more than half an hour away from the doctor’s office.” Mom’s voice broke into the audio book.  I reached up and put the audio on pause. “What a second, we’re almost there already?” I felt my insides get a little bit shaky. “I’m still not sure how good of an idea this is.” Who knows why I was stalling, but I was.  “You’re kidding, right?” Mom stopped at a traffic light and gave me a incredulous look. “You do realize that I wouldn’t be driving you here if I didn’t think it was a good idea, right? There’s no getting away from it now.”  “Such words of comfort and hope.” I said the words in a melodramatic voice but smiled anyway. “Ok. So, we’re going to get our results and what happens next?”  “First off I’m not sure if we’ll be getting any results today.” Mom turned into Chick-Fil-A and parked the car. “We’ll be getting signed in and she’ll draw your blood, ask you questions, that kind of thing. Then when we come back next month we’ll get our results.” “Back next month?” I smiled. “This is going to be an adventure.” Or at least I hoped it would be.