Erin Lyon

Side Effects May Vary.

June 2, 2015 • 18 Comments

I’ve always been a “seize the day” kinda girl. (Granted, sometimes it feels a little more like “don’t look before you leap” girl, but let’s not split hairs.) Point being, you do only live once and you should seize the day because, God knows, you never know how many more you have.

So take this personality and add to it one prematurely-deceased, healthy, spunky parent and you get some interesting side effects.

No, I didn’t book a skydiving excursion. (Yet. That will happen, eventually.) I ate pork. (Gasp! The hell you say!) Okay, follow me. About 32 years ago, my mom decided the family was only going to eat poultry and fish. Her father had died young of colon cancer, but she also just didn’t like hurting the little animals. So, in more recent years, my siblings went back to eating all meat and my mom went full vegetarian and had been for the last 12 years of her life. And me – aside from a couple short-lived periods of actual vegetarianism – I stuck to the poultry and fish thing. For the last 32 years.

There is this awesome Jon Favreau movie called “Chef.” (This segues back – trust me.) I think it’s on Netflix. Seriously. Watch it. It’s kickass.

Jon Favreau is a chef who has a meltdown that goes viral on social media and he ends up with a food truck where he makes the most epic Cuban sandwiches. Obviously, there’s more to it. But for our purposes here, I’m talking about the sandwich.

I even linked this picture to the recipe from the movie…in case you’re inspired.

So the movie was about family, and following your passion, and simplicity, and, of course, food. So, last weekend Steve and I were celebrating one of my best friend’s birthdays and we went to this great restaurant in Sonoma County called Bear Republic Brewing Co. And on the menu they had a Cuban sandwich (there’s that segue I promised you) and Steve ordered it.

And I had to try it. So I took a bite (ok, four) and it was delicious. So good. So, for no other reason than “what the hell,” I ate pork for the first time in 32 years. Is it because mom isn’t here to be disappointed in me? Maybe. Is it because, if I take after my mother and grandmother, I may only have another 20 years and that I need to carpe diem (or in this case, carpe porca)? Possibly. So I tried it. And you know what? No one died. (Well, except for the pig.)

On a side note, I found these socks (courtesy of the Bloggess) and I think I need them.

I included the link for this as well in case you need them, too.

So go out there and seize the hell of the day, my friends.

Friday Happy List.

May 1, 2015 • 11 Comments

It’s Friday so I thought I’d share with you a quick list of awesome things that make me happy.

Fridays. I have yet to meet one I didn’t like.
The new show, iZombie (which may be further proof that I am actually a 15-year-old girl trapped in a woman’s body). Whatever. It’s a delight.

Wine. Because it’s amazing. This picture of wine is also amazing. So two for one on this point.

My new bamboo sheets. Seriously. Who knew you could make fabric out of bamboo? And why is it the softest thing in creation? And why have I been having so much trouble getting out of bed in the morning? More questions than answers, really.

This sign. Because it always makes me picture a little bird with a French fry. And how does that not always bring a smile to your face? ‘Cause that little bird just hit the mother lode.

My dogs. Because every time I walk in the door, they act like I’m a combination of Joe Montana, Geddy Lee and Jesus Christ. (My dogs are big Rush fans. I blame Steve.)

Enjoy your weekend and take your happy wherever you find it.

My Writer’s Streak.

April 25, 2015 • 31 Comments

Apparently, when you are rep’d by Michelle Wolfson of Wolfson Literary Agency, you become a member of the Wolf Pack. And, once my announcement came out, the other members of the Wolf Pack informed me of a Wolf Pack tradition. They told me Michelle’s authors put a streak of color in their hair when Michelle gets us a book deal. Shenanigans, right? Have no fear. I insisted on photographic evidence. Which was happily provided.

And since I have never been one to tempt fate – or miss an opportunity to do something ridiculous with a totally valid excuse – or, frankly, resist peer pressure when I don’t feel like it – here is my new writer’s streak.

And since, as Linda Grimes put it, some judges are lacking in a sense of whimsy, I strategically placed it so that it could be overlooked in court. Unless I meet a super whimsical judge, in which case, game on.

It’s Official! My Agent Just Accepted a Two-Book Deal From Tor/Forge Publishing!

April 23, 2015 • 36 Comments

Man, this writing thing is a long and winding road. And this is the moment you dream of but doubt will ever actually happen…the book deal.

I was lucky enough to gain representation from the amazing Michelle Wolfson of Wolfson Literary and now we officially have a book deal! We just signed a deal with Tor Publishing for the first two books of my trilogy, The Contract Killers. (Which, despite the title, is actually a funny romance with a twist.)

So this wanna-be published author just became a gonna-be published author and dreams really do come true if you stick with it long enough and never give up.

Damn it, Mom. You missed it by four months. And you believed this moment would happen more than anyone. I ❤ you always.

The Secrets You Keep.

April 21, 2015 • 11 Comments

But I suck at keeping secrets – well, my secrets, anyway – so here’s a few that my grievy little heart has been bottling up. And because I’m not special, odds are, if you know someone who is grieving, these are their secrets, too.

You’re not okay. But you do a pretty good impression of it. And it’s exhausting.
There are different kinds of grief. I’ve had the normal kind…lost people I loved and missed terribly. Now I realize there is a different category when you lose the person that was your foundation and this type burns you up and remakes you from the ashes and you suspect you’ll never be the same. (Plus, some of the most honest shit you say sounds super melodramatic.)
You feel isolated. You feel like you don’t see the people in your life much. Logic tells you that life is busy – nothing more. But grief tells you that it’s too much work to be around you. So you do your best to be cheerful when you’re with people, but this only makes the isolation worse because now even when you’re with people, you feel like they don’t really see you.
The people that assume you’re actually still a mess are the only ones you can really connect with. And that friend that tells you “it doesn’t matter if you cry every time we’re together – you’ll always be worth it” said the one thing you needed to hear more than anything.
Life looks different. The good things aren’t as good and the bad things are worse.
After four months, you still live in the theater. And the movie hasn’t stopped playing yet. It’s the background noise of your life.
You still cry all the effing time. And you’re sick to death of it.
That good spell you had gave you a false sense of security that you were coming out the other side. But now you realize that this is actually the most messed up tango ever and you don’t take a step forward without taking a step back.
You miss your old self. You want to be that upbeat and optimistic again. But you aren’t driving this train and apparently you don’t get to decide when you get off.
And you keep these secrets because nobody likes a whiner.

Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award.

April 6, 2015 • 14 Comments

So, this doll over at The Pretty Platform nominated me for an award. No, seriously. Look how cute this girl is.

Right? Adorable. So, Elke, because you’re too cute to say no to, I accept 😉

Okay. Here are the rules!

As I accept this nomination, the following must be accomplished:

1. Thank the blogger who nominated you, linking back to their site.

2. Put the award logo on your blog.

3. Answer the ten questions sent to you.

4. Make up ten new questions for your nominees to answer.

5. Nominate seven blogs.

I got this.

The Answers

If there was a book written about you, what would it be titled? At Least She Meant Well.
If you could go back to any age in your life, which would it be, and why? Well, I have made splendidly horrendous mistakes at every stage of my life, so I wouldn’t say I had any desirable “stage.” And I’m 42 now but have never minded the journey of getting older so there isn’t a younger age I’d want to be. That leaves the obvious – I would go back to any time prior to December 15, 2014 when I still had my mom and best friend. That was all the best stage.
What single accomplishment are you most proud of? I’m proud of my three as-yet-unpublished novels. Because I never quit. Even when I came so close the first time only to suffer a huge disappointment – I just moved on to the next book. Full-time job, kids, law school – didn’t matter. A writer writes.
Country living or city living? Suburb living looking to escape to the country. I want chickens. And a goat.
What’s your favorite joke? Do tell. The past, the present, and the future walked into a bar. It was tense.
Are you an ugly or pretty crier? I’ve actually become an expert in the matter. I’ve got the pretty cry, the ugly one, the rogue-tear one, the cry-till-you’re-hoarse one, and the I-swear-to-god-I-seriously-need-to-stop-crying one.
If you could donate money to one cause, to one organization, which would it be? St. Jude’s Hospital. Anything for children. And it was my mom’s favorite.
What do you think should be taught in schools today that isn’t already? I’m not a huge proponent of shock value, but after I saw “American History X,” I thought it should be shown in high schools. With all the language, violence and hard R rating intact. I don’t know that I’ve seen another movie that more accurately embodies the futility and tragedy of hatred more than that movie.
How do you like your steak cooked? I don’t remember. Haven’t had a steak in about 33 years.
What vacation spot did you enjoy the most? That’s tough. I love love love to travel. I guess I would say Blarney Castle in Ireland. Sad that it’s only known for kissing that nasty stone. The grounds are so beautiful, I could have stayed for a year.

The Questions for the Nominees

What are you most afraid of?
Star Wars or Star Trek?
What is your favorite book?
Now what is your real favorite book that that doesn’t make you look as intellectual as your answer in number 3?
If you could trade places with any currently living celebrity, who would it be?
Do you believe in ghosts?
What is your favorite Pixar movie?
What is the most impulsive thing you’ve ever done?
What is your favorite genre of food?
Who is your favorite Disney princess?

My Nominees

Gone Catawampus – love love love these girls. Sorry to be redundant, cause I’ve nominated them for stuff before, but they never disappoint.
Never Trust a Jellyfish – just the name makes me smile. As do most of her posts.
Heather Christena Schmidt – Love her humor and honesty.
The Stay at Home Philosopher – Quirky and clever. And I love quirky.
Hacker. Ninja. Hooker. Spy. – AKA Aussa Lorens. Okay. She’s kind of a big deal and this is not news, but she’s just so damn funny.
Some Offense Intended – because offensive is funny if you’re smart.
Have You Seen My Glass Slipper? – because Kay is way more clever than I was at 18.

So, thanks to the lovely Elke. And I apologize to my nominees for the homework assignment.

Much love.

Erin

Give Me 5 Minutes and I’ll Get You Excited for the Zombie Apocalypse.

March 24, 2015 • 16 Comments

Of course, some of you need no convincing and are probably already stockpiling ammo and bottled water. But for the rest of you…

I’m a fan of zombie movies, new and old, and a huge Walking Dead fan. But what I’ve realized is that there is an emotional component to the draw of the zombie apocalypse that’s driving my desire for apocalypse-themed entertainment lately.

Think about it. It’s all about survival. Nothing strips away the bullshit of our day-to-day lives like a hoard of mindless, flesh-eating zombies. Because that parent-teacher conference you were dreading next week? Pretty sure it’s canceled. Still upset that a couple of your friends checked in on Facebook for happy hour without inviting you? Nope. Just worried about surviving till happy hour. Stressed about losing 10 pounds before bathing suit season? There is no more bathing suit season. Plus, you’ll probable be in kick-ass shape from walking all day and swinging a heavy machete.

The point is, there is no more worrying about your kids grades, their college paths, their life choices. Your new parenting goals? Food, water, no bites. I can get behind that. Plus, no more stressing over your career, your mortgage, your retirement account. Congratulations. Your five-year plan just went out the window. You’re now working on a 24-hour plan with one goal: survive.

This sounds good to me. Because I’m at a point where my threshold for bullshit is microscopic and there’s so much bullshit. The things I worry about in a given day are so insignificant in light of what I’ve lost. But somehow I still have to worry about them. Because life goes on, with all its bullshit intact. Unless we fall into a zombie apocalypse. Fingers crossed.

12-Week Lessons.

March 9, 2015 • 14 Comments

Today marks 12 weeks. I thought, perhaps, my next post would not be about my mom. Well, I am happy to say that this post, much like my life, is not all about losing my mom.

So here’s what I’ve learned in the last 12 weeks:

I like lists. They require little cohesion and no organization at all.
There is a very fine, at times imperceptible, line between “grieving” and “crazy.”
You don’t really get it – not really – until it’s you.
I’m stronger than I thought. I lost the one person I talked to more, shared more, listened to more, relied on more, leaned on more than any other person in the world. And I’m okay. Despite my previous concerns, I wasn’t swallowed by the hole she left in the world.
I like cemeteries. You can cry all you want and no one looks at you twice. Cause you’re in a cemetery.
Death is arbitrary. My mom wasn’t even two weeks past her 67th birthday, she had low blood pressure, low cholesterol, ate healthy, didn’t smoke, rarely drank, got all her mammograms, colonoscopies, physicals, etc., stayed active, and took her vitamins. And she was literally gone in a matter of seconds. Be healthy so that you can feel good while you’re here – but all the healthy living in the world isn’t going to grant you longevity if it isn’t in the cards.
The dead apparently do not haunt by request. No matter how much you wish for a visit.
Apparently I don’t need to share every thought that ever pops into my head with someone. I used to have someone I told everything to. Now, I probably share 50% of those thoughts. Which, I guess, means I have a lot of insignificant thoughts. Or just no one that finds significance in them.
Even on dark days, wine makes me happy.
Getting my eye makeup tattooed on a year and a half ago was a sound investment.

This Is Your Brain. This Is Your Brain on Grief. Any Questions?

February 13, 2015 • 12 Comments

So this was my brain a couple months ago:

And this is my brain now:

Dark, lonely, altogether less awesome. Except for Batman. Why is Batman there? Why wouldn’t he be? Okay, I think you’re missing the point – try to stay focused.

Interestingly, the broad array of emotions my normal brain had are gone. Now, I seem to have two settings at a time. For the last couple of weeks, my options were sad or strange, with really no other arrows in my quiver, as they say. Sad involves much crying and varying levels of hysteria. Strange was impulse driven and unpredictable. I think we should have champagne and Taco Bell for dinner tonight. How many chickens do you think I’m allowed to keep in our suburban backyard? I can’t decide on a movie…I’m torn between Sleepless in Seattle and The Exorcist. What’s wrong with me putting whiskey in a wine glass?

You get the point. You can guess which Steve preferred – and not just because he loves Taco Bell.

This week is different. I’m only crying every few days now, but I’m somehow sadder with my settings now being between anxious and depressed. (We should probably all take a moment to pity my wonderful husband for what he is enduring. Okay. Moment’s over. Moving on.) So in between moments where I feel like I’m verging on a panic attack and the ones where I don’t want to get out of bed, I’m lonely.

In all of my angsty self-reflection, I’ve put my finger on this loneliness. My mom and I talked about the details, the facets, the little things. We would put together that 5,000 piece puzzle to get the big picture – which is what I shared with my husband and my friends…the big picture. But my mom, alone, knew exactly what it was composed of – each thought, each worry, every hope and fear. I have supportive people in my life, but never anyone that cared about all the little things. Sure, partly it was because moms have to listen to your crap – it’s in the job description. But part of it was just who she was. Because she cared about your details like they were her own. So what the hell do I do with all these puzzle pieces now?

And there is no loneliness quite the loneliness you feel when you’re surrounded by people.

In other news, I was a little worried all this doom and gloom would make people stop following my blog. I have this to report: you all are a very dark and twisty bunch. But you’re my dark and twisty bunch. ❤

Time Flies Whether You’re Having Fun or Not.

February 9, 2015 • 8 Comments

I have come to realize that the saying, “time flies when you’re having fun” is inaccurate. It’s not untrue – time does fly when you’re having fun. But time still flies when you’re not. So I’m not calling the creator of that catchphrase a liar…I’m calling them sloppy based on their half-truth.

There are undoubtedly periods of time that do not fly. So maybe time flies unless you’re in an internment camp. Or time flies unless you’re at the DMV. Or time flies unless you’re reading Moby Dick. Or you’re in solitary confinement in a state penitentiary. Or stuck in traffic when you’re running late for court. Or sitting through a graduation commencement. This list is not exhaustive and I realize time is relative. You may love graduations. Or solitary confinement.

But, otherwise, time does fly. Regardless of whether you’re having a good time or not. I have noticed that the only days of the week I seem to notice are Fridays and Mondays. Fridays, in that I can’t believe how fast the week went by. And Mondays, in that I can’t believe the weekend went by even faster. So the last eight weeks have been a blur. And yet, it feels like it was yesterday. And I can honestly say I have had little to no fun at all. But time still flies.

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