Rachel's Rambles

Blocking the Well

Tue, 19 Jan 2010 09:27:55 GMT

I have come to a realization. I knew it all before, in bits and pieces, but the other night something crystalized for me and I now am at the crossroads, ready to choose a path.

I'm talking about how I have been avoiding my purpose in life, my passion, my talent. I can look back at any time in my life since I decided to become a writer and find at any given time at least one obsession with something, outside of writing, that taps into the well from which I draw my inspiration, blocking my access. The particular obsession changes, but I always have one. Or more.

For example, let me use World of Warcraft. I enjoy the game, the world, the interaction with other players, the quirky little humorous extras sprinkled throughout. But at one point, when I had recently made a pact with myself that I MUST finish such-and-so writing project by X date, I became obsessed with the game to the point where I literally could not sit down and write. I would always choose to play the game instead.

I think I've figured out that the quiet place, my creative well, is scary to me. It must be, or else why would I struggle so hard to avoid being alone with it?

I'm not sure exactly how to overcome this. But now that I'm aware the issue exists, I promise I will dig hard to figure out what's going on and fix the issue. Because it's keeping me from realizing my full potential, both as a writer and as a person. And I'm not willing to live with that anymore.

If anyone out there has experienced something similar - always distracting themselves from writing - and figured out a solution, I'm all ears.

Work In Progress - Maidencrone

Mon, 04 Jan 2010 23:58:02 GMT

"Picture a girl in a long blue gown, a new gown, presented to her just today for the ball tonight, standing in the grassy clearing at the center of a hedge maze. You see her? You see her long flaxen hair, so carefully plaited down her back? Her cheeks lightly flushed with pleasure, above pretty pouting lips? Notice that she holds a single peach rose, delicately inhaling its scent. You see how happy she looks there, next to the fountain, in the sunlight, surrounded by full green hedges? She has no cares, no worries. Her life is perfect, and has ever been, and ever will be.

I wish I could cry out to that girl from where I am and tell her that she is deluded. That there is no such thing as perfection. That the place of peace in the center of that maze is a mirage; there is no safety there. That the beauty she has is a trap; a snare. With biting teeth that will cut deeply into her flesh and make her bleed and bleed and bleed. I cannot.

She will find out soon enough. For that afternoon in the hedge maze is the last time she will be beautiful, or happy, or at peace, for a long, long time.

I know this, because that girl . . . is me."

Writing Goals for January-March

Sun, 27 Dec 2009 00:26:50 GMT

I'm not going to say 'resolutions' even though January draweth nigh. But, I do have some concrete goals for myself over the next three months.

Goal the first: Finish writing the short story I am working on, "Of Sea, and Sand, and Stone". Find a market, submit. Rinse, repeat. Also finish rewrite on "Harlequin Girl and the Maker King" and do the same.

Goal the second: Gather up those few of my other stories, written on and off since 2005, that I still have faith in, and submit, submit, submit. This would include "Crescendo", "The Dog Formerly Known As Prince", "And Raindrops Softly Fell", "All the Starbursts Faintly Gleaming", and maybe a couple more. There does need to be some rewriting on a couple of them before they get out the door, but I want to make it happen. Several of those stories have never been submitted anywhere, and the most markets any of them have been to is three.

Goal the third: Finish the outline for "Maidencrone and Bearskin" - working title. I have a lot of ideas but they are currently jumbled and unbalanced. I need to make some decisions as to what to emphasize, what to cull, and what still needs to be added. This is concurrent with goals one and two, and all three need to be accomplished ASAP because of . . .

Goal the fourth: This is the big mother of them all. Write the first draft of "Maidencrone and Bearskin" by March. That's three months to finish all brainstorming and write 60-80k. I am trying not to give into fear on this one, but in some ways that is a daunting task for a single mom of three. On the other hand, my very best work is done under pressure and I'm tired of faffing about and not getting things accomplished. Plus, I can't mention why just yet, but there is a specific and concrete reason for that timeline that might pay off in a big way for me. So I have a juicy carrot dangling, and must reach for it.

I am well aware of the fact that in the past, immediately after posting lofty goals such as these, Life has found many a way to derail me completely. I really truly hope that I can weather whatever storms are out there and still reach my goals this time. I would feel a lot more like a professional writer and less like an amateur hobbyist if I did.

Refilling the writing well by reading

Fri, 18 Dec 2009 01:18:50 GMT

I used to be a voracious reader. I inhaled books. There were periods in my life where I read more books a day than I ate meals. I distinctly recall one 24 hour period at the age of 8 when I read 10 full length novels. I even still remember some of them: The Cross and the Switchblade, The Black Cauldron, One-Eyed Cat, Island of the Blue Dolphins, to name a few. Considering that I didn't learn to read until age 7, I think that was fairly impressive.

In fact, how I learned to read is a bit of a funny story. I was homeschooled, and my Mom says she had worked with me for months out of the book Teach Your Child To Read In 100 Easy Lessons. To this day I still remember a lot of the little illustrations sprinkled throughout. But, I refused to learn. I would cry every time she sat down to work with me. Eventually she threw her hands in the air and gave up. I would have to learn to read on my own. One day, my dad wrote me a letter and left it on my pillow for me to see when I woke up. I could read my name, and I recognized my dad's handwriting. So, excitedly, I gave the letter to my mom and asked her to read it to me. She refused. I would just have to learn to read it myself.

So I did. I sat at the kitchen table all day until I could read. And when I read the letter, it was my dad telling me all about the wonders of books, and had a list of some of his favorites for me to read. He said he was really looking forward to talking about them with me, sharing the worlds together. The first book on the list was Charlotte's Web. I read it that night. Next was The Hobbit, and I never looked back after that. I was reading Shakespeare and Dante within a couple of months.

Fast forward 20+ years. Note that the vast majority of those years were spent with my nose in a book - including while walking the two miles to and from school. I just made sure to look up from the page at busy intersections :).

I am now a mother. Not one, not two, but three small children are now in need of my semi-constant attention. Which I'm incapable of giving while I'm reading a book. When I read, it's like I'm on an extended deep sea dive. I can't just surface every five minutes. I must remain submerged until I reach the end. I often forget to eat; almost always forget to sleep. Taking care of kids with constant interruptions is completely incompatible for me. I'm ashamed to confess that since the birth of my third child, I've read fewer than a dozen novels, and he's fifteen months old.

I have also noticed a corollary. I have far fewer ideas in my writing well. When I was reading all the time, I was bombarded with Cool Ideas. But now that I'm not, I only rarely get inspiration. TV just does not do the same thing for me. And I want that richness and color back in my life. I want to dream again, and travel to exotic lands, and cry with the heros at their moments of great despair.

So, I bought myself an embarrassingly large selection of science fiction and fantasy books for Christmas, and I'm cancelling cable (I never used to have it anyway until my pregnancies when I was on bedrest and bored out of my mind). I'm not sure of the exact number but it's close to a hundred books. I bought remaindered novels, which I feel guilty about because I know the authors aren't getting royalties. However, it was the only way I could afford so many (the average price was about 2 bucks a book). Books by current authors, not just ones I loved as a child. Books written by my friends even, like Ken Scholes and Tobias Buckell and other awesome authors like Jay Lake and Cherie Priest and Charles de Lint. And I'm going to let myself read them. I'm giving myself permission to make time somehow. Theodore Roosevelt ALWAYS made time to read. Every day, whether he was hunting big game, or supervising the Panama Canal, or running the country. I might have to change my reading style a little bit to allow for the kids interrupting, and all the pressures and duties of adult life. Especially single mom adult life. But, it's time I made time.

I am looking forward to re-filling my idea well. Bring it on!

Concert-Going

Fri, 11 Dec 2009 12:45:16 GMT

I love live music concerts. However, I can't always justify the cost. This year, thanks to the miracle that is facebook ;), I saw ads for two different concerts in December that I didn't want to pass up. Perhaps it helps that I only need to pay for one ticket rather than two now . . . I'm not sure.

So with great excitement I bought tickets to see The Cranberries on their first tour in seven years (I've loved their songs since high school) and also for Leahy Family Christmas (Celtic-style Canadian band made up of eleven siblings who all sing, Irish dance, and play multiple instruments including fiddle, guitar, banjo, piano, drums, and several others). The former I was flying completely solo, which was a new experience for me. The latter I attended with my parents, who are big Leahy fans.

The Cranberries was first, on December 1st. I drove to Denver, dropped the kids off with their dad, and headed to the Gothic Theatre. I'd been there once before, years ago, to see Gaelic Storm (a total blast). The weather was arctic, and even the massed body heat of everyone waiting in line was not enough to offset the wind cutting through my clothing. I regretted choosing the 'will call' option when purchasing my tickets online, once they told us that after first waiting through the half hour line to pick up tickets all the people who did so then had to go to the back of the admission line. Grrr. One very rude gentleman, ahead of me in line, informed me that all the people who got there even earlier than me were issued wristbands so they could get in first. He flashed an orange VIP bracelet as proof. So, I laughed when moments later, people working at the theatre moved up and down the line calling out that as soon as IDs were checked people would be issued an orange wristband, for bar drinks.

Once inside I was at a bit of a loss. Should I go cram in with all the bodies on the open floor in front of the stage? Or make my way to a barstool in the balcony, farther away but at least it would mean not standing on concrete for the next three hours. I opted for the barstool at first. On the way I stopped by the bar, and had absolutely no clue what to order. I'm not a very experienced drinker and wanted to try something new. In desperation, I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. I had recently heard a cousin of mine mention rum and coke. It is her favorite drink even though she doesn't drink coke normally. I hate coke, but I like rum cake and fruit drinks with rum, so I gave it a shot. Oops. Big mistake. Tasted like carbonated cough syrup. Five dollars down the drain. At that point I gave up on the barstool too, because I realized that I'd never been to a concert that had open standing room at the front, and did I want to waste that experience? No, I am all about trying new things right now!

Luckily I got a decent spot right next to a pole and divider, so there was no one directly to my right. This turned out to be a good thing because the more crowded it got, the more cozy I got with that pole, and I was very thankful for the open air to breathe next to me. I had been wondering how I would do going to a concert by myself, and I now knew the answer: I can do it, but it's definitely not my preference. The entire time I stood there I was wishing desperately for a man to be standing behind me, protecting me from the jostling of the crowd by putting his arms around me. The two of us could have been an island in a stormy sea. One such couple stood to my left. They reminded me strongly of the number 10. He was the 1, she the 0. In body shape, I mean. But they looked very happy together, and I smiled. Standing directly behind me was a spiky woman. I say spiky because every facial feature bristled with piercings, mostly the dog-collar-spike variety, and she had her hair cut in short spikes all over her head. She seemed to have a personality as bristly, because she immediately began swearing a blue streak to her girlfriend about the people in front of us who were taller and blocking part of the view. At one point her girlfriend had to talk her down from going up and picking a fight with them. When I heard the quite colorfully raised voice I started trying to blend completely in with the pole. I didn't want to leave the concert with a police escort. Later in the concert, the ball on one of her lip studs flew off into the darkness, and I heard her behind me, very upset at the loss. I happened to catch a glint of light on metal on the floor ahead of me, and bent to get it. Sure enough, it was hers, and the beaming smile on her face as she clapped me on the back and thanked me profusely for finding it for her was more than enough to allay my fears and actually made me feel a comradeship with her.

Dolores was worth the hour long wait outside in the cold, and the almost two hour wait after coming inside (there was an opener, a solo guitarist who to be quite honest was not good at all, and he made it seem even longer until the Cranberries came out I'm sorry to say). She's petite, but spunky. She wore a sparkling minidress with a black hoodie over it, and Converse All-Stars. She introduced most songs with a little story or insight into what she was thinking when it was written; often comparing that to how she felt now. I got a sense of grace, and personal strength. Charm, and love for people. Not to mention that she was cute as a button and very grounded in herself. I admire her. And her voice! Hearing her on the radio or CD does not compare. The warbling echo she gets on the high notes zinged right through me, in a good way. I left the concert happy and smiling. It was a good night - would have been better if I'd had a boyfriend though.

Last night was the Leahy concert. I rode up to Boulder with my parents, again after driving up from the Springs and dropping off kids. It was even colder outside than for the Cranberries, and I realized how non-insulated my boots are once my feet turned to ice inside my dad's Land Rover on the way up. It was about 14 degrees out. The Macky Auditorium at CU Boulder is one of the most beautiful concert venues I've ever been to. The outside is stone, and it looks a bit like a medieval cathedral. Inside, the architecture is equally breathtaking. The graceful curves and filigree carving in the ceiling make it feel intimate and cozy, and smaller than it really is. I'd been there once before, to see Loreena McKennitt (well worth it; I have loved her music since middle school). And the Leahy family made it feel equally cozy. They all wore beautiful holiday clothes, and actually brought a couch onstage with them, complete with soft chenille throw over the arm.

The evening was filled with a variety of classic hymns, upbeat Celtic songs, crazy good instrumentation, and joy. My favorite song was a Canadian Christmas carol I've never heard before, called Huron Carol. It was written by a missionary to the Huron indians back in the 1600s, and it told the birth story of Christ with motifs and terms familiar to them. For example, in the song baby Jesus is wrapped in tattered rabbit fur and laid in a split-bark cradle. The song was hauntingly beautiful, and I'd like to get the audio recording of that sometime. The one sour note of the concert for me was on one of their harmonized vocal songs. I let out a sigh of appreciation because it sounded so good, a nice 'mmmm', and my dad shushed me. Twice. Note, we had both been occasionally leaning over to make comments about various songs throughout the evening, so it's not like there was a vow of silence between us. It made me want to get up and move seats away from him so I could express my 'mmmm's in peace. But overall, the night was beautiful and memorable.

I don't have any more concerts planned, but I did hear an ad on the radio about American Idol contestant Jason Castro coming to town next week. Hmmm . . . .

Talking Shop

Mon, 07 Dec 2009 06:47:51 GMT

I love talking shop. By shop I mean writing, of course. I'm enough of an extrovert that I get excited about things by talking them up with other people far more than I do when I'm alone. This week has been rich with Writerly Interactions, for which I am blessed.

Three Codexians this week have greatly enriched my writing life. Thank you.

First, I spent some time online chatting with Ken Scholes, and the energy from those conversations propelled me to get 6k written this week, after a very long dry spell lasting at least six months. I plan to continue writing semi-daily, and Ken said he'd help keep me on track by letting me know how much wordcount he gets on his next novel, "Requiem" so I have a goal to reach for. We did that once before, when he was writing "Lamentation" and I was writing one version or another of my novel "Outleaf". He put me to shame then, easily outstripping my count every day, but I hope that I'm in a healthier place in my life now and can get in the groove this time.

And then I got to go hang out with John Brown at a signing for his debut novel "Servant of a Dark God". He was extraordinarily courteous and kind, and all too willing to give me some much-needed advice on writing process, and how to keep my mental health, well, healthy :). While there I also got to spend a fair bit of time talking to Ray Solomon and his lovely wife about writing and Parkour (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Parkour). I found it fascinating to learn that the philosophy of Parkour embraces facing fear in life to give you better coping skills and mental health as a person. Makes me want to go watch some in action :). Also there were some very interesting and kind members of the gun community, hanging out with John's fellow author on tour Larry Correia.

Considering that the last time I actually got to talk to fellow authors in person was back in April at Dave Wolverton's Million Dollar Outline Workshop, and before that Worldcon in August '08, it was a much needed week.

I haven't died . . .

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 06:17:20 GMT

. . . Though it may seem like it since it's been so long since I've posted. Well, I'm still not done unpacking :). But, it is getting better little by little.

I have some new goals in life! I'm pretty excited I must admit. Let's see how long the enthusiasm lasts.

First, a physical transformation. To that end I have gotten braces (owie) and I'm using them as a handy jumping off place to begin a new diet and exercise program. My goal is to hit my target weight and be in shape by the time the braces come off in about 18 months. I have to lose 75+ pounds but I think it is doable.

Second, a new career. For the past couple of years I have wanted to be a veterinarian, but unfortunately 8 years of school and over a 100k in debt at the end is just not practical as a single mom. So I've been casting about for alternatives and I have landed on becoming a massage therapist. I'd like to really go in-depth with it, and learn neuromuscular massage and other medical massage areas. Both to become more marketable and also because I find it very interesting. I've always had strong hands, and I started giving my dad back massages when I was 4 years old. I haven't stopped since, so it's about time I got some formal training. The really great news is I can get certified in under a year and it will only cost me 5-10 grand to do so, not including any financial aid.

Third, a new attitude about writing. I still love it, but I've stopped feeling guilty if I can't write every day. In my situation it is just not feasible, but circumstances change and I'm giving myself permission to just write if I feel like it, and I know that it will come back when the time is right. I actually find that when I no longer 'should' be writing, I actually write more because it's fun again.

Fourth, a mental and emotional cleansing. I'm in weekly therapy and even though I've just begun, I can already tell a difference in my daily attitude. I'm so excited about the day when I will have dealt with some of the issues and crap that we all carry around, and has been weighing me down for years. Time to do some internal housecleaning, and it feels good.

I would not have ever chosen divorce. And there are still some very tough days. But, I'm looking ahead to the positives, and I'm full of hope for the future. I can even daydream about meeting a new man someday, which is kind of exciting all by itself :).

God is good, and so is life.

Setting up a household

Mon, 28 Sep 2009 16:38:33 GMT

I don't know about you, but I really enjoy the process of setting up a home. I like figuring out spots for all the furniture and finding homes for the various linens and dishes and other miscellaneous things. I particularly enjoy shopping for new things that meet a need, even a decorating need :). All the same, I'm a bit overwhelmed with the sheer number of boxes of STUFF that my husband unloaded from the moving truck this weekend. When I first moved down I took the essentials and not much else, so finding homes for that was easy. And every weekend since, another small load has come down, which is also manageable. But now I've got the bulk of miscellaneous 'whatever', most of which has been boxed for the past three houses due to not having room. Much of it is not really necessary and needs to be sold/donated/passed on. But I need to sort through it all to determine which is what, and then figure out a process for getting rid of the excess. There are now boxes in every room, particularly the living areas, leaving narrow winding passageways between them. In some ways it's a little bit like Christmas, as I discovered when I unearthed a box of my favorite earthenware mugs. They have been packed for so long I'd forgotten I owned some of them, and several are very definitely going to come in handy this winter. Ditto to the wall-hangings and rugs and so forth, which have also been packed for the past few rentals. This house is also a rental, but I really want to make it feel homey and personal and my own, rather than a generic white box like the last few.

Though, adding all the unpacking/sorting/selling/donating to my already very busy days is going to be a challenge. I guess this is a great opportunity for me to hone my time management skills and rise to the occasion!

Aion

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 23:15:41 GMT

Those of you who play MMORPGs have undoubtedly heard more than me about the game Aion. I remained unaware of it's very existence until yesterday evening. I am a fan of World of Warcraft, but certain elements of the game are not quite satisfying to me. So, when I saw the previews at http://na.aiononline.com/ and read a very detailed review at http://www.incgamers.com/Games/33/Previews/aion---tower-of-eternity, I got excited. The gorgeous graphics were a huge selling point, as well as the very moldable character creation process. Also, who doesn't like the idea of characters in flight? I sure do, anyway. I think I might miss the mount and pet collecting side of WoW as that remains one of my favorite elements of the game, but I love that in Aion you can progress on as many crafting occupations as you like, versus two for WoW.

Anyway, I got excited enough to want to get a copy and at least try it for a month. So, which version? The basic, or the limited collector's edition? Well, when I purchased WoW originally I didn't spring for anything fancy, and - going back to pet collecting - I've always regretted it, because there are certain things you can only get from the collectors editions that I very much would like to have. So, I eventually decided it was probably worth the extra bucks if I end up loving the game. Well, whoops. You see, since I only found out about the game on launch date, all the collector's edition copies were sold out a while back in pre-orders. I called every store in town anyway, just in case, and I got lucky. One person had returned their copy, unopened, less than an hour before I called. So, I snatched it up.

I'll let you know later if I like the game enough to be worth the money. I hope so!

Dropping off the face of the Earth . . .

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 16:23:20 GMT

I haven't, honest. It just feels that way sometimes. I have not adjusted yet to being a single mom, with all that entails. Particularly on days like today when I wake up with a splitting migraine and still have to somehow crawl down the stairs, figure out food for the older two and a bottle for the baby, then change smelly diapers, and find clothes for everybody. And that's just the first hour.

I look around me at the chaos and I sometimes want to throw up my hands and have done. Then, at other times, I realize that the mounds of clothes have mostly switched from dirty to clean and with an hour or two of concerted effort can transition to the various bedrooms, closets, and dressers in which they belong. I look at the fresh mess on the kitchen floor caused by my children in one meal, and I remember that if they choose to be disgusting and happen to eat any of that mess before I can clean it, at least the floor it fell on is technically clean enough to eat off of. In other words, I'm slowly getting better at this. I'm looking forward to the day when I actually am on top of everything that needs to be done, but at least I am making some progress. I would just very much appreciate not mixing pain into everything else. Bad days are very hard.

And I'm disappointed in two other areas. The first is my writing. I have had no dreams full of plots for stories or novels. I have had no bright-flash inspiration strikes in the shower or while driving. In fact, I have been wracking my brain for a month to come up with a new story for Codex's Halloween contest and have had zero luck. I think I just need to accept that in this season of my life, my brain has decided I must take a break from writing. I hope the desire and ideas come back someday, sooner rather than later.

The other thing that bothers me is the dog situation. I have been wanting to adopt a retired racing greyhound since I was fifteen. I thought that in renting this place, I would finally get the chance I've waited for for so long. But my landlord has dashed my hopes by requiring that any dog I get be under 25 pounds and approved by her. Well, the problem with that is that most small/toy breeds of dog are far more likely to bark, nip, and piddle all over the place - particularly those that are relinquished to shelters. And they often don't do well with small children. This is not just hearsay, I've since contacted a number of animal adoption groups and have been told this by them regarding my situation. In fact, I've been flat turned down by all the ones I've talked to due to my young kids, and the landlord's requirement (mine too!) that the dog be housetrained. I have done a lot of research over the years, and had come to the conclusion that the right greyhound, properly screened by the adoption agency, would be the very best dog for us. I resent that my landlord is effectively telling me who can or cannot become a member of my family. And that she does not trust my judgement or the many many hours I have spent researching. I'm quite tempted to write to her on this and beg for a reconsideration, or offer a larger pet deposit, or something. I just have a hard time accepting 'no' when I am being very reasonable and well-thought out with my situation.

Birthdays, Budgets, and Bats

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 01:39:56 GMT

I lived through my party. It was a ton of work from start to finish though, and I can't say I actually got to 'party'. I spent the entire day in the kitchen preparing my perhaps over-ambitious menu. Everyone liked what I made, so that part was good. My brother Reuben and his family couldn't come though, and my good friend Tami and her family didn't make it either. That part was disappointing.

My cake came out pretty awesome though. I asked at Sam's Club if they could decorate a round cake with leaves all over, instead of a standard design. Not only did they say yes, but they didn't charge me a cent for the custom work. It looked wonderful. Once I got it home, I added silly striped candles - yes, I put 30 individual candles on the cake, it was pretty awesome - and a lot of curly wires ending in hand-blown glass beads that looked like all kinds of bugs and frogs and so forth, in keeping with the garden theme. The finished product looked like something out of Dr. Seuss or maybe a cake Patience Brewster would have designed. In other words, it was very me :).

The dirt cake I made for Angus was the hit of the party though. And it didn't occur to me till today, but I'm actually not sure he got to eat any of it . . . maybe my mom fed him some. I hope so! Either way, he had fun and even actually helped me rip open his presents.

My fridge is packed to bursting with leftover food, and booze. I am not much of a drinker, and I had an entire twelve pack left over of New Belgium brand beer. Plus some hard lemonade. I doubt I'll drink any of it by myself, except maybe the occasional lemonade. I guess I need to have another party soon to get rid of the rest of it :).

As to the budgets part of the post title . . . I'm pretty scared about my month to month finances. Splitting one income that was barely adequate for a single household into two separate ones is quite daunting, and I am not sure how to make it through the month without getting into the red. This is the first real month where I'm trying to make it solely on alimony and child support. Basically, I can pay my tithe, rent, and utilities, with only a tiny bit left over. Food? Gas? Clothes? Anything else? Not sure how I'm going to cover those things yet. Deep breaths are called for. And a miracle.

Moving on to simpler things, there is a bat hanging in my entryway. Small, and adorably cute and fluffy. It's clinging to the stucco just outside my front door, which has an arch and vines hanging down in front of it. I suppose it's sort of cave-like. I don't mind the roommate; I just wonder why it hasn't moved in days. I've watched it, and checked on it as late as 2 in the morning, with no signs of leaving. I know it is alive, as I very gently touched it with a stick today and it moved over a bit. I hope it is flying out for food late and night and just happening to choose the exact same roosting spot every time it comes back, but I'm a bit concerned. The outside light is on a timer I don't have a control for, as it is one of the complex lights, and it's very bright. Perhaps my little friend is confused about a lack of darkness?

It's My Party - Can I Cry If I Want To?

Fri, 28 Aug 2009 15:17:59 GMT

Hopefully it won't come to that! I have been rushing like a madwoman for the past several days, and today will be the most hectic of them all. I am whining, but this is all self inflicted pain, so I can't REALLY complain.

My 30th birthday is tomorrow and my son is turning one the day after. And most of my family have not seen my new townhome, either. So, I got the brilliant idea to combine two birthdays and a housewarming all into one long party tomorrow afternoon.

I do love having parties. I love decorating, I love planning the theme, I enjoy making hors d'ouvres and pretty little garnishes for the trays. Where it gets tricky is adding in cleaning the whole house by myself to the mix. Plus unpacking a bunch of stuff that is laying around in piles. Plus corralling three kids all day, who are busy making more messes faster than I can clean up after them. Plus the shopping and errands involved to make it all happen. Plus the sheer time it takes to decorate a living room, dining room, family room, bathroom, entryway and do all the prep work for the 4 types of finger foods I will be serving. Not to mention the prep for the dinner.

So, I guess I love throwing parties if I have the help of half a dozen hired staff :).

We'll see if I survive!

Sculpee and Painting and Frayed Nerves, Oh My!

Fri, 14 Aug 2009 03:10:35 GMT

Today was Craft Day, otherwise known as How Far Can We Push Mommy Before She Breaks.

Youngest child spent both the Sculpee Session and the Painting Rocks session screaming for attention. Middle child spent both sessions happily creating the largest radius of mess possible (how exactly does one get green paint on one's back?). Oldest child spent both sessions insisting that I admire and exclaim over every twist of clay and every brushstroke, as well as needing lots of mommy assistance with the hard parts (read: the whole thing).

This was all done in service to the idea that the children could make their father presents for his birthday. I had no desire whatsoever to make him a present after recent events, but last month I bought him a very expensive shirt at the Renaissance Festival that was for his birthday anyway, so I was saved from deciding whether to be petty and withhold a present (would I have? Yes). But I didn't want to spoil their joy and he is still their daddy, so we embarked on various messy projects with abandon. By abandon, I mean my sanity. It was abandoned.

I dearly love my children, but the lack of a break from their constant company now that their father isn't here, is beginning to take a toll. Bedtime couldn't come fast enough tonight! So, after they were all tucked in and kissed and hugged and cuddled with and prayed with and so on and so forth, I settled down on the couch to watch a half hour of TV. All I needed was the remote. Where was that anyway? I then embarked on a hunt for the missing article, and 20 minutes of thorough searching later, I still can't find it. I can't even just watch whatever channel the TV happens to be on, because it's been changed over to the DVD setting and I need the remote to change back. I swear the kids were only alone in the living room for a max of five minutes today, but apparently that was all they needed. I've looked in every nook and cranny and under every piece of furniture. I've even looked in their toy boxes. I'd look in the freezer if they were tall enough to reach it. Grr. No clue where it could be.

So I decided to write a blog entry, instead :).

My Life Is Changing Forever

Wed, 29 Jul 2009 14:52:49 GMT

Trauma. Shock. Stress. Anger. Depression. Grief.

All of those feelings and more are what I'm going through right now. My husband of 8 years and I will be splitting up. This was not my choice, nor my timing. He made the choice for me and our children by choosing to be unfaithful, and with my best friend of all people.

I won't go into details here, but the end result is that I am in the process of moving back to Colorado Springs with the kids. I'm so worried about them. Every divorce statistic you hear about is a negative one. I never wanted that for my children. I was married for life, or so I thought. Sure, we had problems. We'd been drifting. I was investigating intense marital counseling to help us, when I found out what had really been going on.

Now, I have to grasp a new reality. And I have to be strong for my children. Meanwhile I'm dealing with all the implications. They keep hitting, like punches to the gut:

No one to give me a break from childcare, 24 hours a day. I'm already tired just being on my own during the time my husband is at work. He'll visit on the weekends, but he plans to come to my new home and sleep on the couch, because the place he's getting for himself will be very small.
No one to help with housework or small home repairs. This is huge because of my health.
Celibacy
No more physical contact such as cuddling or back rubs. I'm an intensely physical person. This is harder for me than celibacy.
No one to just vent to, or talk about the tiny little day to day things. I have friends, but they have their own families and daily drama.
Speaking of friends, no more time with the person I considered my best friend and who I've known for 14 years. She chose my husband over me, apparently. I understand that it's over, but I'm still grieving the friendship.
Total disruption of schedule, with the move, and starting over again, and finding a new church, new counselors, new teachers, new routines, new everything.
The kids emotions - especially Claire. But all of them are going to be hurt so deeply when we tell them, and their lives will never be the same. I am so hurt on their behalf.

There are positives, too.

This is a great opportunity for me to be my own person, something I haven't been for many years. I can now pursue my own interests without having to cajole and weedle my husband into grudging participation.
I can go to school full time
I can eat whatever meals the kids and I want on our own schedule.
I'm getting to go back to be with my other, true, friends. Women who have upheld me through many rough times, and will continue to be my support through this.
I'll be closer to the mountains. I love looking at them.
This experience will force me even more to grow up. I thought I had done a lot of that already, and I have, but this will really really make me be a responsible adult.
I'll get closer to God. I'm praying more than I have in years, which is a good thing.

I know that even still, I haven't really grasped the full impact this will have on all of our lives. I was so unprepared. This was the one thing that I completely trusted my husband not to do, no matter what. I guess I really don't know him.

What Shall I Write Today?

Tue, 21 Jul 2009 16:52:33 GMT

I have several projects just itching to be worked on. Their multi-vocal clamoring in my brain is driving me crazy. I've finally got the baby fed and down for a nap, the girls are playing with play-dough in the kitchen, and I have a few minutes. Yet I can't decide which project is yammering the loudest.

Here are my choices:

Brainstorm more on "Of Maidencrone and Bearskin". This is the novel I'm not quite ready to write yet. The advantage of brainstorming more is that it gets me closer to an outline that I'm ready to start working with. The downside is it's not really writing, and I want to write.
Finish "Of Sea and Sand and Stone". This one is a story I am passionate about and am enjoying writing - and has the major advantage over all the other choices in that the plot is already planned out. The downside is that it's fantasy erotica, and I'm not even sure where to submit it once it's finished. Also, I'll probably have to use a pseudonym to publish since I plan to write YA under my real name. I love the story, but since there's some embarrassment about the publication process, is it the right thing to work on now?
Rewrite "Harlequin Girl and the Maker King". This story has loads of potential, and I love the characters and the world. However, I've written multiple drafts already that don't quite work, and I honestly don't know how to fix it. So, I guess I should put brainstorming before writing on this project.
Finish "The NibNub's Quest". A fun little humorous science fiction story, but I think the character's main goal isn't appropriate for humor. So this one also needs some brainstorming on plot before I'm ready to dive into writing.
Work on the as yet unnamed story featuring the willow dryad and the will-o-the-wisp. And ladybugs. Not quite sure where the plot is going but I can see a lot of interesting angles and possible directions to take this YA humorous fantasy.
Comb through my old stories on the hard drive and polish up a few more to send out the door. There are some decent stories in there, but mostly written several years ago, and I'm not sure how closely they represent my writing right now. On the other hand, I've never even submitted most of them, and I won't know until I try whether they are publishable. This involves mostly research of markets, printing things out, and heading to the post office (or submitting online - always my preference given the choice). Some re-writing involved, but I don't want to get too much into that. I'd rather write new stories.

Hmm, after reading all of that over, it sounds to me like I'm in the mood for the fantasy erotica. Largely because I can just jump into the writing with no prep time. Plots are always my weakest writing element, and I have to struggle so hard to get good ones. I know all the theory, but it's difficult for me to put into practice without being too linear and predictable. Dave Wolverton's workshop on outlines was helpful, but I still have issues. Here's hoping that I'll get better at plots in the near future!

Off to write steamy scenes between gargoyle guys, and girls made out of sand and saltwater . . .

UPDATE: Well. The intention was good. But as soon as I posted the above, my daughters finished playing with playdough and insisted that I be involved with them again, and by the time the 2 year old went down for a nap after lunch, the baby was awake again, and so on and so forth. Maybe I'll have time after they are all in bed tonight. Sigh.

I'm a Cliche Today

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 16:14:26 GMT

Claire came in our room at 6 am and woke us to say she was ready to go to school, lol. Last night after her bath I put her hair in sponge rollers. After I took them out this morning she looked like Curly Sue or Shirley Temple :). Her hair normally goes halfway down her back but the curls took so well that it sprung up to above shoulder height. I won't do that every day of course, but I had to do something special for the first day. The teacher told us that there would be a group picture today, as well.

Once we arrived, parked, and joined the line of parents and other tiny five year olds, I realized I forgot my camera! DOH! I was the only parent not snapping away when the teacher arranged all the kids for the shot. Oops. Maybe I'll get to know some of the other parents and get a copy that way. Claire insisted on wearing her backpack all by herself, and since it was full of the year's school supplies, that thing was heavy! Probably weighed almost half what she does. Along with the other kids' bulging packs and straggling procession as they made their way into the building, it looked almost like a refugee trail, lol.

I surprised myself by bursting into uncontrollable tears as she waved one last time and disappeared inside. I honestly thought I would be fine. What's there to cry about, really? But all the same, I felt a loss. I guess her babyhood is irrevocably over. I knew that already intellectually, of course, but my heart is having a hard time accepting the fact.

I'm not alone in feeling a bit off today. Eleanor has been very clingy all morning, and even Angus seems to sense the change. Claire being in school will give me some time to really get to know my younger children, which is a good thing. I don't intentionally give Claire preferential treatment, but she is the oldest and therefore most able to help with simple chores, and converse with me. So it sort of naturally works out that we have more conversations and little moments together than the other two do, at least on an interactive level. Eleanor has been my cuddle bug since birth, and we do snuggle all the time, and then of course Angus, since he is still so little, needs me a lot. So it's not like I ignore the other two, but still. The dynamic is shifting a bit, and that always takes a little time to get used to.

For example, I've really been enjoying watching Eleanor dance and sing in the living room. Usually, Claire is the one doing the exhibitionist type stuff, and Ella is content to watch. But now that Claire isn't here, I guess Ella feels it's her turn now.

I have to run, yet another doc appt today, sigh. Oh, I found out the result of the spinal fluid testing: there is no evidence of MS. YAY!

Looking Forward

Mon, 13 Jul 2009 05:56:56 GMT

I have so much to look forward to!

First, Claire starts school tomorrow (the year round school). I hope her first day of Kindergarten is the total opposite of my first day in a classroom. I was midway through sixth grade when my mother decided that she was DONE homeschooling four children, and we found ourselves thrust into a private school. Let me just mention that simply because a child's parents are Christian and put them in a Christian school, it does not mean that said child is Christian or will necessarily behave well.

On my first day, the teacher told me that he knew I wouldn't be able to remember everyone's names, so he simply didn't tell me what they were. The kids had already bonded into a fierce clique that accepted no outsiders, so they weren't about to enlighten me. It did take me forever to learn their names, but that was because they pointedly avoided letting me hear them. Also, I had no idea of the social customs inherent to a classroom setting. I came in with a strong love of learning. My homeschooling consisted of a maximum of three hours a day, more often two. In that time I learned enough that by a fifth grade standardized test, I was at 9th grade level in my weakest subject, and college level on my strongest. I used to sneak my textbooks under my covers with a light at night, because I couldn't wait to see what came next. My mom used to get mad at me for finishing my books a month into the school year, since they were expensive and were supposed to last me nine months. So I was told I could do no more than three days worth at a time. This was before I went to private school, which is when everything changed.

Now I had 7 hours of school and 2 or more hours of homework, every day. It didn't occur to me that when the teacher asked who knew the answer to a question, I wasn't supposed to raise my hand every single time. Or that talking to the teacher after class about all the cool research projects I was inspired to do on my own time to learn more about what he was teaching was considered brown-nosing. It didn't help that I had zero depth perception and my gross motor skills frankly sucked. So I was hopeless at any physical game or sport. I was like Hermione Granger, only I didn't get to hang out with a gaggle of cool kids that liked me anyway. I was ostracized, to the point where looking back on it, I consider it abuse.

Anyway, I think Claire has a good chance of avoiding that experience. She's gentle though, and polite and obedient to a fault. Kids can be merciless, so I hope they don't break her spirit. She makes friends easily, and so far in her life has had no enemies. By her age I was already outraged at the behavior of the neighborhood kids, lol. So, she'll probably be fine. I hope.

I'm also looking forward to the coming weeks due to a wonderful blessing we just received today. Our pastor told us that a group of people from the church will be coming to our home in August to help us do all the major tasks that due to my health and the fact my husband is overburdened, we simply are not able to do ourselves. And he'll get volunteers weekly to help with the three C's: childcare, cooking, and cleaning, to keep us on top of things. He'll also meet with us for marriage counseling, because I'll be honest: the circumstances we've been in for the past several years have taken a heavy toll on our relationship.

Also in August is my husband's 41st birthday, my 30th, and my son's first. I'm looking forward to celebrating. I haven't had a party for myself in many years, and I probably won't this year either. But honestly, planning a party for Angus, who turns one the day after my birthday, will be a treat in and of itself. I love party planning and decorating and cake-making. I hope I feel well enough to make it a good one.

I'm looking forward to my husband feeling better as well. I haven't talked about his health too much, but he had a heart attack at the age of 38, and has three stents in his heart. He was just diagnosed with severe sleep apnea (he stops breathing every single minute all night long) and got a CPAP machine. I desperately want him to get some relief, and I hope he can adapt to the machine. I've had a gut feeling since we were married eight years ago that there was something wrong with his sleep, but it took until I got myself evaluated before he would do the sleep study. Thankfully, I do not have apnea. I'm glad I don't have to add that to the list. I just had my appointment on Friday, and all is well.

In fact, I'm just looking forward to the future in general. Perhaps I will get better soon. Perhaps my husband will find a job in another state. Even if he doesn't, I'm focusing on all the things I DO enjoy about living here, and trying to be content with that. We have a good church, good schools, a great counselor, a close friend, and other ties to the community that I will miss if we do move. Maybe I'll finally get my rear in gear, writing wise. I can at least hope. And hope is a powerful powerful thing. I'm thankful that I have a lot of hope to hold on to, no matter what happens.

I've Named A Novel!

Thu, 09 Jul 2009 23:03:36 GMT

David Wolverton, aka Dave Farland, is the NY Times Bestselling author of the Runelords fantasy series. He sent out a mass plea by email to hundreds of people for help in naming his latest book. He had a title all picked out and ready to go, but there was a snafu which resulted in him having to pick a new one with a 13 hour deadline. I sent in several suggestions, but one in particular that resonated for me. Apparently it worked for him as well, so his latest book will be going to print with a title that I came up with! How cool is that? For those that are curious, I believe it's book number 8 in the Runelords series, and will now be named Chaosbound. We both felt that title has multiple meanings, all of which are applicable to the book. Color me happy.

Edited to add: He just emailed to let me know that he received close to 4000 title suggestions, but that both he and his editor liked mine the best :).

Allowance Time?

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 08:12:23 GMT

A couple of posts ago, I mentioned that my daughter has acquired a toad. Feeding said toad is not free. We can't catch bugs from the backyard due to pesticides, so we must purchase insects and feeder guppies as food. So I got to thinking that Claire should contribute to the cost of taking care of it, since it is her pet. Of course, she's only five. Which made me think that maybe it's time she had an allowance.

Growing up, I mostly didn't have an allowance at all, though my friends did. For a brief time around the age of ten, we had a dog, and I got paid a dollar a week if I kept the yard clean after him. But that was the only time I ever had income from my parents. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but I know a lot of parents DO give their children small amounts of money on a weekly/monthly basis.

My hubbie and I were thinking about paying her maybe a dollar a week at this age. We thought of perhaps giving her half of it automatically and letting her earn the other half by doing a simple chore or two. That way she can learn that doing work = making money. She would be required to tithe ten percent and save ten percent, and then she can do what she wants with the rest. I will give her a choice between contributing to the toad's food, or letting the toad go and keeping the money.

But we haven't done allowances before, and honestly we don't even know the going rate these days, or what the pros and cons are to an allowance. So if anyone would like to weigh in on our plan and let us know if it sounds reasonable, I'd love to hear from you.

I've Sprung A Leak

Tue, 07 Jul 2009 08:01:51 GMT

I feel a bit like a bicycle tire that's gone flat. Since the LP on Thursday, I've had a continuous low pressure headache that is completely incapacitating. I'm on flat bedrest because if I sit up, agony sets in. It is only very very slowly getting any better, and today I had a migraine on top of it. Let me just say that if you want to hit a 10 on the pain scale, try having a migraine and a low pressure headache at the same time! So I might be heading into the hospital tomorrow for a blood patch to seal the leak. Grr. Just what I always wanted! And if history repeats itself, once the blood patch kicks in I'll be back to having high pressure headaches instead. However, I'm hoping for a miracle.

I feel like all I ever talk about is my health, like an old lady in a nursing home. Sheesh. Sorry.

This Is Spinal Tap

Fri, 03 Jul 2009 20:55:23 GMT

Okay, I couldn't resist the title, sorry. I got my LP done yesterday, and my pressure was still high. Higher, in fact, than it was in December. So they drained fluid from my spine for over an hour, which HURT, and now I have a lovely low pressure headache. I have to lay flat on my back or the pain comes rushing in, accompanied by nausea and dizziness. Funny how the brain likes to have a cushion of fluid around it, and if you take that away, all hell breaks loose. I really hope I can be back up and around by Monday at the latest, for the sake of my hubbie not missing any work. Being up sooner than that would be spiffy, because I would like to see fireworks tomorrow night, go to church on Sunday, spend time with my family, etc. In the meantime, I'm stuck in bed or on the couch, and I can't even get up to use the bathroom without the pain coming to pay me a visit. It is still there when I lay down, but at least it's manageable. Unlike the last time after my LP in December when no one warned me about a low pressure headache and I had to take an ambulance back to the ER due to having the worst pain in my life.

It's at least a good thing that the house is clean. I miss playing with my kids and making my own meals though. I hope this is over soon!

Of Topamax and Toads

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 04:08:12 GMT

I stopped taking Topamax a week ago. This was in preparation for my upcoming spinal tap on July 2nd. One of the reasons they are doing the LP is to determine my CSF (cerebro-spinal fluid) pressure, and Topamax can interfere with an accurate reading, so I told my doc I wanted to stop the meds in advance. Both I and the neuro thought that my headaches would increase in severity once the meds left my system, and I braced myself for two weeks of misery leading up to the LP.

But, instead, I feel like a normal human being. This is such an odd experience for me that I'm still in shock. I haven't felt 'normal' in probably three years, or maybe even longer (with a couple of very rare exceptions). Now, I am still weak, and I can tell that it will take me a long time to really be healthy, but I haven't had daily headaches (or any bad ones at all - just a couple minor ones that were easily handled with OTC pain relievers, and my old daily ones were never helped at all by anything like that), I haven't been fatigued (besides normal tiredness from exerting a body that has been inactive for too long), and I haven't had any mental fogging. In fact, the previous post about writing came about, I am certain, because of not being on Topamax anymore. Medications like that just kill creativity. So, I've been doing the happy dance of joy every day this week!

And on top of that, I have cleaned my house (with the help of my hubbie and best friend) from top to bottom. It hasn't been this clean since we first moved in last fall - actually, it's cleaner, and definitely more tidy. I even sorted and unpacked the rest of the boxes that had been stuffed in corners and so forth due to not having an assigned home for the contents. We're getting the carpets cleaned tomorrow, and I am hoping that will help a bit with any mold that might be growing in them. There are several suspicious dark grey areas, particularly near the laundry closet, which we did not cause, and I fear water damage underneath from a previous tenant. Unfortunately, when I broached my suspicions to the landlord, he claimed there had never been any leak, never been any stains on the carpet, and the very idea of mold was out of the question. I have also heard what sounds suspiciously like water dripping behind a closet wall when the upstairs faucet is running, but there is no way to get to it to take a look, and the outside of the wall is dry and shows no damage.

If anyone has any ideas on how to get our landlord to take responsibility for potential mold, or get him to pay for testing, I'd love to hear them. I have tried to do research online but haven't had much success. Mold testing can be upwards of a thousand dollars for a professional, accurate evaluation, and if the landlord won't pay, we can't afford to. The do-it-yourself kits can still run into the hundreds including lab fees, and are nowhere near as accurate. Grrr.

In other news, Claire got to go camping this weekend with our friends at Lake McConaughy in Nebraska. When we cancelled our trip a few weeks back, our friends decided to change the date of their trip, and invited Claire to come with them. She came back looking more grown up and so achingly beautiful she took my breath away. I know she hasn't really changed in four days, but I guess it was just seeing her after a small break that made me really take a look at her. She also brought home a pet; a toad that she caught all by herself. So I spent a good chunk of the evening that I had planned to be cleaning my master bedroom, instead going to my dad's house to borrow a terrarium and grab some gravel from their yard, then coming home and cleaning the daylights out of it all and setting up a habitat.

I'm sitting down and typing this while I rest for a few minutes, then it's back to cleaning so the carpets are ready to go in the morning. Whew!

Writing Bugs, Dreams, and Endurance Training

Tue, 23 Jun 2009 22:49:10 GMT

This morning I was bitten by a writing bug in my sleep. You know the type; tiny, invisible little critters that inject a substance into your bloodstream which goes straight to your brain and starts pouring out stories that Must Be Written. I love that kind of bug bite. And I especially like the type that happens while I sleep, because my subconscious can really communicate with me in my dreams, and often I get my best stories that way.

The interesting twist on last night's dream was that it was not a new story, nor even a new-ish one. It was in fact, a story that I originally dreamed, fully-formed, several years ago. The previous dream was very cool, and included five characters, a fantasy world, and an entire plot including a couple twists and reversals. Since plotting is my weak link, I love it when I can dream an entire plot instead of having to come up with one :). But, as I was writing the draft of that story, several years back, I forgot part of the plot. I couldn't for the life of me recall how to get the characters from a point halfway into the story, up to the ending. This is a common falter point for me. I actually re-wrote my first novel 4 times, from scratch, because of that exact problem. And my second novel is going great, plot-wise, until the midpoint, and I'm again, struggling with the second half up to the end. Sheesh.

Anyway, this morning, I got to re-dream the missing part of that story. How cool is that? It's all there and now I know what I was missing the first time around. The first thing I did this morning, before I put my glasses on or got out of bed to get dressed or anything, was reach for my laptop and hurriedly type it all out, lest I forget it again.

Now the only problem is execution. I re-read my first draft, and decided I need to do the whole thing over from a first person POV, for a more visceral feeling. So I can't jump right in and write the part that was missing before. First I have to write the first four thousand words over. And I don't have any writing stamina anymore. Pretty consistently these days, I get burned out and have to take a break at about the 500 word point, if I get any writing in at all. I used to be able to write 2k, before getting that tired, and up to 6k in a session if I needed to and was really in the zone. I wonder if it's due to my health, or just general writing muscle atrophy, or what? I assume that, just like exercise, if I start small and keep pushing, I'll get to the point where my endurance is much higher once more. But breaking that 500 word barrier is just really tough right now, even when I'm excited by what I'm writing and know exactly what happens next.

(Blogging is totally different. This is like having a conversation. I can do this all day.)

An Explosion at the Freckle Factory

Mon, 22 Jun 2009 03:32:46 GMT

At least, that's what I look like. I got a good four hours of sun today at Elitches (kind of like Six Flags or Busch Gardens) and most of that was wearing a bathing suit on the water rides. I had a wonderful time, and I did wear sunscreen, but my face looks rather like someone used one of those cinnamon shakers all over me. So do my arms and legs and chest. Ah well. I never tan, but at least I don't have a sunburn. Maybe a few pink bits.

When I was a kid, and I heard that freckles were caused by pigmentation in the skin, I misheard the word pigment as 'pig meat'. For years I imagined that the sunshine burned off little circles of your own skin to reveal the pig meat underneath. I never quite figured out how the pig meat got there in the first place though . . .

After Elitches, which we went to because it was Father's Day so my hubbie Grahame got to go free, and Claire and I have season passes (we left Eleanor and Angus at Grandma's house for the afternoon), we went back to my parents' house and got to briefly see a collection of family. That was a nice change of pace and due to current circumstances, rarely happens.

While there, Grahame smoked a cigar with the other menfolk, and he did fine the whole time, blowing smoke rings and everything. However, by the time we left, he asked me to drive because he was feeling a bit green, and the rest of the evening he's been nauseated. I don't get men sometimes. I felt no need to prove anything by smoking a substance that would make me ill later, but apparently that's the 'guy' thing to do.

Craft Day

Sun, 21 Jun 2009 04:57:46 GMT

I volunteered to help with crafts for my church's Sunday School department. I love crafts, and it's a way for me to be involved without committing to show up at a certain time or babysit for twenty children (shudder). This was my first week. I'm sure once I get into the rhythm of things, it will be more streamlined, but it took me about 5 hours today to do the prep for one week's worth of class! I had no idea it would be so time-consuming. And this is after confidently assuring the lady that I would be able to do several weeks worth at a time to get well ahead, so they wouldn't have to worry about last minute deadlines. Ahem.

I picked up the supplies for two weeks worth on Monday. I had plenty of time to work on them each evening while watching TV, but did I do so? Of course not. Did I even think about it? Heck no. That would be too organized. The first time the project even crossed my mind was noon today, and I was supposed to have dropped the finished product off at the church office yesterday. Oops. Not only that, but I discovered that I was missing some supplies and couldn't even finish the second week's project without going back to the church office, which is of course closed and locked, since it's Saturday. I had to call the lady in charge and drop off what I had at her house, and I'll have to wait until next week to get the missing supplies.

It's also been awhile since I've contorted my body into the requisite shape required to compose messages on 8 sheets of huge butcher paper spread all over the floor, or stapled quite that many feathers onto paper plates, or colored in that many outlined shapes using Sharpies. So now I'm a bit achey. But, all in a good cause. I do feel good to have accomplished something for someone outside myself. And my daughters loved 'helping', especially with the feathers.