What I Did Last Summer: Fact or Fiction #2 and IWSG

 Emily R. King and Melody Wright are hosting this bloghop where we tell one true and one false story,  in 500 words or less. My 1st story is here. We get to vote Thursday on which one is true or false and there are prizes:) The true story doesn't have to be from this past summer, but it does have to be true.

It's another sweltering summer, but this time I'm sweating it out in Southern Mississippi (hello, no point in ever doing your hair or make-up. So pretty much a great place for me to live). I was on our patio swing reading The Book Thief and enjoying the morning as my children napped. I was still in my pajamas pants and had on my white, threadbare marine biology shirt from sophomore year in high school trip to Key Largo.

When I went to go back inside I discovered I'd locked myself out and no amount of rechecking the windows and doors was going to get me inside my house. I didn't have a cell phone, my neighbors weren't home, but I had a best friend about a mile away. So, leaving my children and praying that nothing bad would happen, I walked (no bra and nursing me made running a no go), the asphalt burning my bare feet, and tried to look confident in my glasses and pillowcase styled hair. My feet were blistering and I could only hop so much without making a bigger fool of myself. I knew I wouldn't make it to Suzanne's. We had a more casual friend who lived closer. I hoped she'd be home and stopped there. Of course her husband opened the door, and let me just say he seemed pretty shocked to see me standing on his porch. Mortified, I tried to act casual AND cover my boobs as I asked to borrow his phone. He was super nice, a sweetheart really, but for me it made it even more awkward as I sat in his car on the ride back to my house. He stayed with me and attempted to break into the house, even though Stan was coming, because we could both here my son crying (he was too little to understand how to open the door).

Fifteen minutes later I was inside my house and rocking my little guy. Everything had turned out fine, but, that day is the reason we have a keypad today. Even I can't lock myself out anymore.

Fact or Fiction: You decide
Voting happens tomorrow, so I'll be seeing you all soon:)

IWSG
I need you guys today. It's as if I've locked myself out of my house again. I posted last month that I was ready to start querying, but I keep on finding excused not to start. Waiting for feedback from one more beta reader, after this contest, after this conference, after GUTGAA. What I really need is someone to kick me in the pants and make me start pushing send. I have my novel, I have my query written. Now I need some guts. Anybody have some to spare? Rejection is fun, right? Right?

What I Did Last Summer: Fact or Fiction

If you're looking for GUTGAA click here.

Emily R. King and Melody Wright are hosting this bloghop where we tell one true and one false story,  in 500 words or less. Entry number one posts today. Come back Wednesday the 5th for my second entry. If you haven't signed up yet, but want to participate the linky is still open here. We get to vote Thursday on which one is true or false and there are prizes:) The true story doesn't have to be from this past summer, but it does have to be true.


Running is something from my past, high school, college, and those years when I only had one child to push in the jogging stroller. But this summer I'm running off baby fat from #4. Only it's so dang hot that I'm running at 5am and still, the heat hits me. It's this arid, suck your breath and all the sweat from your pores, so that even when I finish running I'm as dry (or more dry) than when I started. This morning I run to the Chocolate Drop. It's this graffitied hill, a hard incline, but short enough I can push up it and feel like the king of the world. It's my quiet spot, where I see my little town and often do my sun salutations (in my running shoes). Today the climb seems hard, the rocks poking more through my shoes and I know I have a cactus spine in my left heel. But I don't let myself stop. Starting again is more than my old of shape body can handle; besides, the sun is going to rise any second, the light is already filling the horizon. I crest the ridge, breathing hard and make myself stand up tall--instead of bending over like I want to. I rest both hands over my head and suck in all the oxygen I can get as the pink sun peeks over the horizon, and then rises, so fast that each time I watch it I am in awe.

I move into my sun salutes, staying an extra breath in upward facing dog so I can keep watching the sunrise. After three salutes I sit cross-legged on a flatfish boulder and close my eyes, the sun's light visible though my lids. I try to meditate, but the need to get back home (so my husband, Stan, can bike to work) won't leave me, so I stand, say goodbye to the sun, and turn west. And there, biking towards the Chocolate Drop is a guy on a road bike eerily like Stan's. It's read and white and the guy has his same blue helmet. He's bent low over his bike and doesn't look up to me, so far overhead. As he passes the drop I see his shirt, the free Bike for Aids shirt my husband got from a race in Palm Springs. 

I cuss in my mind yell to Stan, but he doesn't hear me. I run my fastest time ever back home, making that mile in seven minutes (not good for my HS time, but for here and now, I flew). I punch in the code and race into the house. It's silent, eerie, and thankfully, my children have no idea they were temporarily abandoned. My husband, on the other hand, gets a earful. 

Fact or Fiction: You decide.