I’m going to be a grandmother and probably sooner than later at this point since DIL is home on rest and quiet after yesterday’s checkup with the obstetrician. We’re sending all kinds of “stay put, kid!” energy to the little jumping bean because he needs just a couple more weeks in the oven. So, if you’ve got some good energy to spare, send it out to DIL, okay? Thanks!

The naming thing has been on my mind. The writer in me objects to being called just plain “Grandma.” I know that’s probably bratty. Grandma is a perfectly acceptable moniker and there’s no reason why our little JB can’t call both his grandmothers by the same name and just add our first or last names to avoid confusion. However, I’ve been cruising the Web, old books, and questioning my friends who are already grandparents, looking for just the right name for me.

Husband was easy—he’s Pops. He looks like a Pops. He acts like a Pops. Son loves that name for him and so will the jumping bean. I’m such a Francophile that I seriously considered “Grandmere,” but it was way too formal. As kids, we called our grandmother Nana and that’s also what my sister Kate’s grandkids call her, so that was off the table. My mom was Grandma California, which worked really well for her since she lived in California and the name kept her separate from my dad’s companion, who was Granny. I don’t want to be named after my state though, and besides, both sets of the bean’s grandparents-to-be live here—won’t work. And Granny? No. I am so not a Granny.

I suggested that the kid just call me Nan (it is my name), but Son nixed that immediately, with a rather snarky, “Or how about Mrs. Reinhardt?” I thought about Nonna, Grammy, and had just about settled on the Frenchy Mémé (pronounced Meh-may), when it occurred to me that I should stay away from names that sound too much like Mommy or Mama.

As Husband and I drove home from the lake last weekend, Son and I texted on the topic, and he said, “How about Nanny?” I gave it a dry run to Husband, “What do you think of Nanny and Pops?” It got a grin (the dimpled kind, which is always a good thing!). I took that as approval. Son likes it a lot, so I’m going to be Nanny.

I’ve been practicing. “Come hug Nanny.”

“Nanny and Pops love you so much.”

“Want to walk down to the lake with Nanny?”

“How about a boat ride with Nanny and Pops?”

“Nanny’s going to read you a story.”

Sounds good doesn’t it? I like it. It’s a go… So that’s done. Whew! Now all we have to do is wait for the little guy to make his appearance…but not too soon. I think it would be quite lovely of him to be born on our wedding anniversary (coming up in about three weeks). Maybe I’ll have DIL mention it to him…

So, it’s Monday morning and I have a book launch meeting in an hour and half, but I’m trying to commit to one blog a week at the very least. Blogging everyday is hard. For one thing, time is often my enemy and for another, I’m just not sure my life and thoughts are quite fascinating enough to record on a daily basis. Actually, my life is quite ordinary and my thoughts…well, some of them don’t need to be immortalized on the Web. Also, it’s Monday…and in my heart, I’m still at the lake, even though we made the drive back home last night.

We are deep into lake season already and it isn’t even June yet, but the weather has been so fantastic here, we can’t resist driving up every weekend. Hell, if we could get away with it, we’d go more often. This past weekend was gorgeous and delightful. We got our flowers out and I planted some basil in a darling flower box that my friend Mae gave me as a cottage-warming gift. Take a look—we are going to have bruschetta all summer long!

The flowers turned out lovely as well—the lake ladies and I went into town to find just the perfect plants and now our deck is dressed and ready for summer fun.(Click to enlarge the photos.)

  We went on a boat ride yesterday afternoon and had a ball—first time on the lake this season and we even got to jump in and take a swim. The water was cool, but not really very chilly, thanks to our extraordinarily mild winter. Felt fantastic to swim, so thanks to our friends who invited us for a ride. It was beee-yooo-tiful!

Our boat lift is almost ready for the water—as soon as the pontoon lift thingies (that’s the professional term for them) are bolted on, we’ll have it taken from our driveway to our boat slip and then we can bring our boat out of storage. Summer’s coming—nothing but good times ahead.

Okay, back to the falling tree question for the universe. Early this morning, we were awakened by wind and a very weird creaking noise out back. We looked out, but it was too dark to see anything, so we just went back to sleep. But to our surprise, when we checked out the back yard after we got up, we saw this. Apparently, the wind took out a limb from the large cottonwood tree in our woods. So, the answer to the burning question, “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?” is yes.

I know this because our catalpa tree is flowering and that’s a sign that June is close. The tree is currently a riot of snowy blossoms and it sits right at the end of our driveway. I can hear the cars slowing out on the road; I’m sure they’re admiring our ancient catalpa.

When we first built our house, a man stopped by one day and asked if he could check the tree for catalpa worms—apparently, they’re great for fishing. Who knew? Catalpas are indigenous to our state, so you see them around a lot. We don’t know how old ours is, but we think it’s pretty old because it’s huge, and this year, it’s  particularly lovely. Take a look. How gorgeous is this?

Here’s how the blossoms look close up; their scent is so sweet and heavenly.

I’m an autumn person usually, but when the catalpa blooms, I turn into a springtime girl. How about you? What’s your favorite season and why?

 Today’s post is dedicated to my high school classmate, Bill Spurlock, who passed away yesterday. Hope you enjoy your view of my tree, Bill. Soar with the angels, old friend.

It’s our third weekend at the lake and this morning, we enjoyed breakfast on the deck listening to the sounds that are so much a part of being at the lake–birds singing, the breeze rustling the trees, boats on the bay, maybe the occasional whoop from a fisherman who caught a big one. Pretty soon, golf carts will start to appear and neighbors will be by to say good morning and catch up on the week’s news.

Not much going on here this weekend—the park really hasn’t started its summer dance of barefoot kids running up and down the road, boat motors buzzing, the splash of swimmers in the clear water, and the scent of something wondrous being grilled for lunch or supper. We’ll take care of some of the little things that need doing, some fix-up stuff from last fall, and I’m planning on cleaning the window sills of their winter grime and possibly washing windows.

Mostly, I’m planning to spend Mother’s Day weekend relaxing, enjoying the quiet here, and perhaps reading for pleasure. Yesterday, I received an incredible bouquet of orchids from Son and DIL and my soon-to-arrive grandson. They are exquisite–I’ve never gotten orchids before, so what a treat! I brought a few stems up here with me, so I could enjoy them both places. Tomorrow, I’ll get to spend some time on Skype with Son, which is always the dearest pleasure a mom with a long-distance kid can know.

Tomorrow is also my mom’s birthday. I miss my mom. She would have been 85 years old on Mother’s Day. It’s funny, but I can’t even imagine Mom at 85—to me, she’ll also be that zany, slightly off-center lady who was always up for any new adventure. Perhaps that wouldn’t have changed about her had she had the opportunity to grow older. I like to believe that she’d have been the one who danced on a beach in the moonlight at 85 years old. I hope I’m becoming more like her in that way—bolder. Happy Birthday, Mom, and Happy Mother’s Day. I didn’t tell you this often enough, but I love you.

However you plan to spend your Mother’s Day, I hope you are blessed and enjoy time with the children and mothers in your life. Be good to yourself, you deserve it, I promise.

I’ve been rediscovering Nan, the writer, this week. Editing work has slowed some and I’ve been able to concentrate more on my own writing. Plus, last week, I had a wonderful critique/session with Lani Diane Rich from StoryWonk. She helped me see that I’d fallen into writing to a formula. I have really terrific stories to tell, but I’d been trying to write to the market rather than simply writing what’s in my heart.

Also, Lani showed me how important it is to start in the present with the action, to show, don’t tell, and to avoid overwhelming my reader with too much back story. Confession? I’m an info dumper. I don’t mean to be, but I worry that my readers won’t know enough, so I go on forever, instead of simply dribbling in the back story as the present story progresses. It is one of my worst offenses as a writer, and even though I know I’m doing it while I do it, I can’t seem to stop myself. I have what writer Barbara Michaels referred to in her book Witch as “Ancient Mariner” syndrome. (A great novel, by the way, read it!)

So, I started over on my widow’s story (book 3), took out the first five chapters, which were purely back story and already, I like it so much better. In just a few pages, I’ve given my reader all the introduction they need to my heroine and hero, and now I can move forward with the story. I am amazed at the difference it makes. My writing is tighter with more emotion and action in just those first pages than in all the old five chapters combined.

The best part is, I’m unstuck. I’m no longer spinning my wheels and feeling like I don’t know how to fix that story or where to go on the other one that I’ve been working on (book 4). To be honest, I sort of welcomed the big influx of editing work that arrived the first of April because I’d painted myself into a corner with book 4. If I had “too much work,” I didn’t have to sit and try to figure out out to get out of the web I’d woven for my characters. I’m the master of excuses and working on the editing gigs gave me the perfect reason to stop writing for a while.

But the session with Lani set my creative juices flowing. I highly recommend contacting her at StoryWonk if you’re having a tough time with your writing. She is amazing!

Last week, I spent an hour on the phone with Son, hashing out the issues with book 4, getting his input about where to take the plot line to make it work again. He’s a terrific brain-stormer—we’ve done this before on other knotty writing issues. The analyst in him listens to me tell him the situation and within minutes, he’s got several ideas for writing me out of whatever hole I’ve dug for my characters. Turns out (big surprise) that I needed to simplify the story. Now, I’m back into it, making the necessary revisions, and forging ahead.

It feels terrific to be writing and making progress. Why does that take me by surprise time and again? You’d think I would realize that what makes life work for me is writing, and that when I’m not writing, I’m not happy. How hard is that concept?

Fellow writer, Anne Stuart, once wrote on the Reinventing Fabulous blog, “Everything in my life is filtered through my writing. There is no me without it.” I have that posted above my worktable to remind me how to fix the restless, unhappy times ’cause you know what? I am a great writer!