So how was that?

I decided to go back to my roots. Today's words...As They Spill. The initial blog post here was a tidbit prompted by a new word. And this blog was intended to be writing practice. Practice. Nothing special, nothing polished, but practice.

I remember typing practice in high school. There were days I was spot on and could type an accurate 70 wpm. The next day I'd come in and my fingers would tangle helplessly or my mind would reach for keys meant for a foreign language. But you know, even those hopeless days when my accuracy put me back to dismal wpm scores were still practice. They still contributed to smoothing those connections between mind and fingers. They contributed to the next day when my fingers flew even faster.

And it is true with the writing. Because sometimes in these splatterings of words that land on a page there's an element, a person, a plot, and resonance that begs for more, and that is where the next story lies. It's best to show up every day, give it some effort, let the skills build.

I'm making no promises. There will be lots of drivel, maybe some gems, but I aim for nothing in particular. I'm just recording Today's Words...As They Spill.

That being said, it will probably be the 9th before there's any more spillage. :)

Is Normal out there anywhere?

Send it/him/her this way if you catch a glimpse...Promise the elusive entity that it doesn't have to stay. Just visit for a little while--that's all I ask.

Dh went to the dr today and had the entire nail on one of his big toes removed and then graphically told us about what drained out of it. So much for lunch. Rick started developing an infection on Thursday last week, and by today his toe was half again bigger than the "normal" one. He has a staff infection in the toe. And get this--if it wasn't for Abe's friend's father being a podiatrist and making a slot for Dh early this morning, the earliest appointment he could get was Wednesday or Thursday of this week. I shudder to think what the toe would have been like by then. Anyway, he can't put a shoe on that foot for the next week at least, must keep it elevated when he's not soaking it--you know the drill. "Honey, could you.....?" Not that I mind. He didn't ask for a staff infection and I know it hurts him. He spent all weekend hobbling like an old man and wincing just sitting in the chair, the pain was so bad. Of course Abe can't resist: "Waah, waah, waah, Dad. Try breaking a hip. Mom, would you mind..." (He didn't break a hip, but it's an easier word than "pelvis".)

I lost it yesterday. Completely and totally. I'd be feeling on top of things one minute and be crumpled up in tears the next over something totally insignificant. It was worse than being pregnant. I can't find a schedule, I can't find time to do everything that needs doing. (I've accumulated over $8.00 in library fines, if that tells you anything. At $.10 per day, per item--I completely forgot we had a library, much less books.) I want a routine and I want just a few seconds in the course of a day for myself. I feel like I'm on this incredibly crazy roller coaster and it just won't stop and let me off even though I feel sick to my stomach, tired, dizzy and yes, scared of what the next peak or valley might hold. Just let me get my balance, for just a little while, some semblance of control. I am such a control freak and I have completely lost all control of so many things.

Even the routine things I used to do--I tell you, with all the advice and counsel I get on a daily basis on how to do laundry, cook food, make iced tea, keep up with the bills/finances, etc., etc., you'd think all of these things never got done when there wasn't someone here to monitor and/or tweak the procedures that have kept things cooking along pretty well to date. Sometimes I want to go out to the garage and start rearranging things the way I think they should be arranged, and maybe it would sink in why I get upset with all the "suggestions" inside. What happened to "everything inside, your domain, everything outside, my domain." Well, with four bodies stuck inside, the domain is overcrowded....Asher has taken to riding his bike. I'm keeping my eyes peeled for a used one for me. No gas, exercise, and ONLY ONE PERSON CAN FIT ON IT! Send me a bicycle!!!

However, I do have to confess that some of the stuff I normally have a handle on has gotten away from me. It took me all day to catch up with the laundry just last week. I kept thinking I'd done it. Actually a lot of it is done and still sitting in baskets because I literally don't know where to put it anymore. Asher gave up his room for Abe because it was easier to move the hospital bed in there and was closer to the bathroom and a bit bigger. Ash moved his clothes out of the dresser and closet in there as well so his brother could have them. Well, his brother left his clothes in his own room but all his paraphenalia has blocked the empty dresser and closet, so there's this constant squabble over the fact that Abe can't "hobble" well through his room that's supposed to be his brother's for the moment, and it's because his brother HAS NO WHERE TO PUT HIS CLOTHES! A simple, reasonable solution: rearrange things so Asher can get to the empty closet and/or dresser. Or move Abe's clothes into the empty storage. Sounds reasonable, logical, but somehow everything is supposed to magically solve itself while no one does anything different. Quite frankly, I don't have the steam anymore. You would think an almost 21-year-old and an almost 16-year-old could figure this out. They're going to have to I guess. I've crossed the problem off my list. Except for the fact that my laundry baskets are beginning to look like tiny mountains. At least the clothes are clean and folded. It looks like I'm trying.

Of course the bed frame and mattress we moved out of the one bedroom to make way for the hospital bed is back in "my" room. I'd finally gotten that old school room sorted out and a used recliner in there that I planned to work from and sleep in on ocassion. Well, a week into my triumph the chair broke, and it's tilted worse than the Leaning Tower of Pisa in all its pale blue velour-ness, complete with fuzzy blanket and snazzy pillows. Now the chair is hemmed in at the rear with the bedframe (meaning it won't recline) and was flanked on the tilted side by the mattress, but I was afraid the mattress would fall over on my sheffelera that my hubby had "rehabilitated" for me last year as an anniversary gift. It truly is back to being a gorgeous plant but wouldn't be if it was snapped off by a mattress. The mattress is now propped against the wall in the hall between the door to the old school room (which now feels more like a storage unit than my room) and the bathroom. Sometimes I see it leaning there and wonder if I would sleep just as well on it right where it is, standing in the hall leaning on it. Just tuck the blanket under my chin like a giant bib. Bring on the tornado. I'm ready!

I keep thinking if I start with something simple and make it a habit, I'll feel better. I can't even choose which simple thing that should be. Drink more water? Walk? Write? How about just getting up early? Decluttering? Screaming at the top of my lungs? No that would probably get me locked up....... Hmmmm.........Maybe that's where Normal is????? Hiding in a padded room somewhere waiting for me....

There. What is it about complaining that makes us feel better? I think I can sleep now and I'm sure everything will look better in the sunshine tomorrow. On my bike, of course. Normal can ride on the handlebars. :)

Woohoo!

You should see my room!! I am so thrilled. I still have a ton of stuff to sort through, but it's all in boxes, stacked beneath shelf space where nothing else would fit anyway. I think I can whittle away a box at a time and still use the room productively for other things in the meantime. As long as I guard it like it's Buckingham Palace and don't let myself or anyone else use it for a dumping ground, the worst of getting it useable again is over. When I'm using it regularly, I'll be more inclined to do the maintenance work to keep it in order.

I already have a nice recliner to put back there; my friend who does the garage sales had one given to her and she passed it on to me. Dh even bought me a massage pad for it last weekend. And I have a rolling stand for my laptop. All my writing books are back there already as well as files with my work. I'd like to have a submission center where I keep all the mailing supplies and mail scale, and I have a lot of work to do on the filing system in there so that I can find what I want when I want it. I'm feeling inspired. :)

My next big room project: Laundry room. My pantry in there has exploded. It's one of those things where you know you have more room than what is showing, because the space isn't being used efficiently. I also want to get the old school room table out of there to open up floor space and give me one less place to stack things. I'm bad about stacking. My dh will tell you....

I want to get everything ready to give people tours, and then work on the more "hidden" problems. Not that peaple are lining up to tour my house. But it's a nice feeling to know they could if they wanted. It's been too long since my house felt organized.

I am feeling better today. :)

I start walking on Monday, back to 30 minutes a day!!!

Thinking things....

You've been warned.

I have the help-people gene. I hate it when someone I know is hurting. But sometimes it is so difficult to know how to help. This has come up in several different ways lately with several different people, and I've managed to sort them all out but one. So here goes.

When I'm "in a mood" the most irritating thing a person can say to me is "snap out of it." Or when I'm making a tough decision, "Don't do that!" will sometimes drive me up the wall, though I've learned that I do need to listen to that from certain people who seem to know me better than I do at times. I'm better with "ride it out, things will get better" because I've learned that's always true. It comes to mind now in my blackest of moments, and while it doesn't make things instantly better, it does make them bearable, and helps me to look for the positive.

Sometimes I just want to say what I've decided to hear myself think it--I don't really want any advice. But then there are times when I really want someone to say, "Gosh, I wish you wouldn't do that, but if you feel you must, then I'm behind you."

I have a friend--and she may recognize herself here--who is a talented writer. She truly has a gift with words and when she has the time and opportunity and the mood to write, I always enjoy reading what she puts together. The thing is, the desire to do it will die. Or the opportunity to write gets eaten up by the plethora of things in "life" that are more important. Sooner or later, the wise thing seems to be to stop beating your head against the proverbial brick wall and just give up.

Not a bad decision.

But isn't that the "easy" way out? Isn't it better to push through, keep at it at all costs? Sometimes not.

I have been there. I've boxed up all my writing with the intent of tossing it. I put the boxes in the closet instead, and to this day there are one or two I have not dug into again that probably could be tossed without regret. The feeling that the writer in me had died was at its worst after I successfully published an article in ByLine in September of 2000, I believe it was. It was around then that one of the editors at Myria (now the SheKnows network) called me and asked me to be an assistant editor and I said yes and was instantly paralyzed when it came to putting together anything--fiction or non-fiction. I couldn't seem to find the time, the desire or the ability to put two words together that made any sense at all, and it drove me nuts. (Notice I am NOT an assistant editor for the SheKnows network; that's how bad it was.)

Sometime after that year, and I don't know how long it took me, I decided that writing was going to be the one thing in my life that I wasn't going to fight. It makes me a not-disciplined writer, but let's face it. I'm not Mary Higgins Clark or J.K. Rowling. I don't have to write to feed my kids. There are other more important issues in my life that deserve more attention. In other words, writing is not a priority in the sense that it has to go to work for me. I'd like to think that if I were in that circumstance, I could make myself take the whole endeavor a bit more seriously and I'd make a success of it one way or another. Shoot, I had two children at home! What could be more intense or painful? :) But I don't have to, so why add that kind of pressure to something that I love to do?

Yes, there are times, like now, when I make myself write because I know it's good for me. It's "time." And I have a freedom now that I didn't have in the early part of the "new millenium" because my kids are more self-sufficient. I have more time to call my own. My husband still takes jabs at me as an "aspiring writer" and doubts that I have any talent at all, because if I had, I would have been published by now. After all, our oldest hit the ball out of the park his first time out and ended up published in Field and Stream. But you know what? Right now, I don't have to write for Field and Stream, or anyone else. I can write for me. That's it. I like it that way. Dh insists that I don't, because he has a different measure of "success" than I do. And I won't lie and say there isn't part of me that would love to see my name on a dust jacket in a bookstore or library. Realistically, that may never happen. But you know what? I don't feel like a failure and I'm not going to stop writing, or start turning writing into a chore like doing laundry or cleaning house just to prove a point. I prefer to let him have his opinion and I have mine and when I feel like it I write.

Sometimes I do make myself show up at the page, even when at first I don't really feel like it. I will make the time and place for it because it feeds me. It feeds a part of me that helps me balance. Especially during the season when daylight is shorter and I have a harder time keeping an emotional balance. I have been edgy and out of sorts for weeks, no months, now because of various issues that I've been dealing, and the lack of sunshine is a major player in my mood. So when I catch myself snapping at my youngest--whose heart is as big and generous and forgiving as they come--I know I need a break. Ideally, it's time to find a hotel room and chill for a couple days. But the cash isn't there, so I turn to the next best thing--reading and writing. Especially the writing.

So in this ramble the thing I want to say most is, maybe now isn't the time. That doesn't mean that later will not be. And if it never is, even later, that's fine too. Just put the stuff in the box and wheel it away, but when you feel like getting it out again, let yourself do that. Just, as the Beatles so aptly put it, let it be. Nothing true in this moment has to be forever. The chauffeuring (spelled wrong but I'm not looking it up) will end. The busy-ness of life will ease up. And maybe when that pressure is gone, the urge to put a pen to paper (okay, fingers to the keyboard) may be able to blossom like it's not been able to yet. Just don't start thinking you're not good at it, because you are. Put it away because you want to. Get it out because you want to. Indulge in a challenge here and there because the urge strikes or something hits you out of the blue. Because more than likely it will hit; it has before. And you know what, you might even beat October/November to the punch and make it a practice to pack it all away before the busy time of year gets underway. Acknowledge your rhythm and honor it. Or change it, if you decide that will be better for you. Just decide for yourself what's best for you, because you always feel better when you take control.

Okay, I shouldn't lecture. But I just wanted to be sure you knew that I haven't said, "No! Don't do that!" not because I think you should give it up, but because I didn't want to annoy you when I tried to help.

Which I may have just done. But you know what my intentions are, right? :)

Oh and by the way, to whomever is reading and responding to this blog, I have set my comments to be moderated, so they won't appear right away. People seem to think my "Making Your WISH Come True" entry is an invitation to say all kinds of weird stuff and post stock tip sites.

Wishing all my friends peace and joy....

The Story of My Life

Don't worry. This won't take long.

I have a lovely family. I can see it dwindling in the next few years. I expect my oldest will get tired of having an apartment's worth of stuff crammed into his bedroom, and his brother will be close on his heels. Sometimes it feels like a lot less than five years between them. They'll be off living their own lives and I'll be left with a quiet house, and sometimes I know I'm not ready for that. I honestly enjoy their company. So I welcome the opportunity to see them smile, to talk on ocassion, and to hear "I love you, Mom!" which usually comes from the gut--after a good meal.

Thoughts of this nature pass through my mind mostly when I'm in the kitchen serving up something, whether it be leftovers for lunch or cooking dinner. I still cook. Sometimes I absolutely love it. Other times I absolutely hate it. Most of the time it just takes too darn long. There are other things that I need to be doing, and each and every male in my house is old enough to fend for himself. But you know, they are always so grateful when they have a hot plate or bowl handed to them. Just putting on the tea kettle makes my oldest smile when it whistles. It really isn't much work for the joy it seems to give. It sure beats changing diapers.

However, it is these pauses to please that seem to permeate my day like so many little cracks on the outside of a glazed ceramic cup. In between all the little cracks are the islands of time in which I am supposed to "get something done." It is difficult at the end of the day sometimes to remember what it was I sandwiched in there between people needing this or that. ("The" conversation: "What did you do today, Hon? . . . "Uh, I don't know, the usual, laundry, cleaning, answering the phone, accounts, school, errands, paying bills, you know--." How can that ten seconds of monotony take up an entire day?)

Today, my "big plan" was to spend my morning (when I am less than alert, to put it mildly) doing the mundane stuff like cleaning bathrooms, changing a shower curtain and doing laundry, with the goal of having nothing in my way this afternoon so I could work on getting all the tax documentation in order. Before I knew it, it was one o'clock, and dh is still talking to me about getting estimates for the bathroom ceiling; we had some water damage in there as a result of the ice storm. That was the first time I realized my day wasn't going to go like I'd planned.

Dh wanted to take a nap, and truth be told, I had a lousy night's sleep--kept getting cold. So I took him up on it, thinking I'd be well-rested and could jump right into the tax stuff and get a good chunk organized before it was time to start dinner.

Wrong again. I was jolted awake by a rather insistant knock on the door, which happens to be rather close to my ear. Our place used to be a duplex; we've turned the living room of one side into our bedroom, but the result is that the front porch offers two doors that could be entry doors and people have a hard time telling which is "the" front door in the winter. In the summer I obliterate the door to our bedroom with plants. Haven't figured out what to obliterate it with in the winter yet.

Our unexpected guest was an old friend of my dh's that he hadn't seen in probably 30 years. Talk about a blast from the past. Which put me on another "I can't believe I'm that old" kick which is generating this post I'm sure. Trying to get a positive grasp on this aging thing always puts me in a reflective mood. I could see these older, "mature" men, but easily imagine the stupid teenagers who met in a ditch soon after my dh moved into the neighborhood where his parents still live--two of them "quenching thirst" and one of them "lightening his mood." You can figure out where it went from there. It's amazing the three of them are still alive. And I am grateful once again that those days were long gone before dh had children of his own, and that neither of them has shown any interest in following his footsteps in that regard. I'd be much more gray-headed than I am now.

Anyway, dh and his old running buddy were talking in those low tones that signal to anyone in drone's range that the conversation is not for all ears. The boys had already retreated to their bedrooms, so after introductions I took myself off to the nether regions of the house where there is tons of "stuff" that needs to be sorted and trashed/given away/put away. But the nether regions weren't on my list and I couldn't pick a place to start, and all in all I got absolutely nothing accomplished except perhaps making a bigger mess. I started dinner before our guest left; he was here for at least two hours. Afterward, my dh treated me to resurrected tales of their youth. It seemed impolite not to listen.

I finally got to work on the tax stuff as the football game started. Oh, how I love football!!! It usually means a reprieve--something to occupy the testosterone-driven minds leaving me in peace to work.

Wrong again.

Dh had not finished his nap, so he wanted to go to bed early. Somehow that always involves me. He's worse than a two-year old. Afterward, cleaned the kitchen. Hap, after helping me with the kitchen, went to bed; Lincoln--whose car is not running which puts him in a perpetually sour mood until it's fixed--dragged in from getting his hair cut at a friend's. He closed himself in his room and plunked on his guitar for awhile, and then I heard the snap of his light switch and was amazed.

It was utterly and completely still. Quiet. And warm. I have been ice-cold all day no matter how many layers I put on. I finally cranked up the heat a bit.

And I crank up the computer. Which promptly goes into this glitch that opens tab after tab after tab in Explorer until I do an emergency shut-down to get it stopped. Second attempt to get online and here is a charm. Sorta. Just takes forever. I'm ready to dump the dial-up, even if it is free.

And so I am in the mood to write about the here and now. The dishwasher has finished, and the only sounds I can hear are the low hum of the refrigerator (that old thing that I'm sure is costing us a ton of money in electricity!), the soft whirring of the computer fan and the click of my fingers on the keyboard.

And the doorknob turning.

Dh is awake, wanting me to come to bed. Until he sees me melt into this desperate puddle of "I can't take care of any person but me!" after which he tenderly tells me it's okay, he'll always love me and take the time I need. He really has come a long way from his selfish, rebellious days. :)

So here I am. Finally getting to do a bit of writing, which feels good. Afterward, I may try to read but I think I will probably nod out in no time. Which isn't bad because this whole thing will start over tomorrow.

But there is hope.

It is supposed to be sunny and even on the warm side--50s as opposed to 30s. Sunshine makes everything better.

Another Spillage

From A.Word.A.Day: the word for today, October 3^rd: lugubrious

Mournful, dismal, especially in an exaggerated or affected manner.

Why do I think of a Bassett Hound? I love Bassett Hounds. They remind me of the way life should be. Nothing in a rush. Soft, floppy, easy. And I rather like the feel and the sound of lugubrious as well. The idea isn't so appealing. Strange—I like the word, but not what it stands for. Hmmm…..

I should be sleeping. I am not. Duh. I can sleepwalk through putting junk out on tables, trust me.

These garage sales serve to give me a good idea of just how much useless stuff we Americans collect on an average basis, myself included, though I'd like to think I wasn't quite as attached to "stuff" as others. But truth be told, I am. It's hard not to be living in a society that constantly pushes the biggest, baddest, newest, greatest gadgamawhatzit at every given opportunity. I've even noticed they throw in advertising in the little graphics they show on the football games now. I enjoyed the little yellow line overlaid on the field that showed me how far these crazy kids had to push (college; I'm not much into pro football). Then they started throwing in the advertising between the line of scrimmage and the first down point and I lost interest all together. The greed will never reach a limit. If a company can find a way to get their name on something somewhere, they'll move heaven and earth to do it. Who cares that there are people starving.

Back to stuff. There would be people on earth if they could see these tables who would be absolutely astounded that so much "stuff" existed. Would they find it beautiful, or would they think "what a serious pain in the neck to keep up with all this!"

Funny how we think "stuff" will fill holes in us that it never does. No wonder shopping is a favorite American pastime. Not only does it make for a "robust economy" it gives people something to do when they're failing at a relationship or don't know how to talk to the kids, or vice versa—don't know how to talk to the parents. I had a dear friend who traveled to St. Petersburg and stayed for a time and in one of her most treasured letters, she mentioned that the people there had so much more time for each other without the burden of a lot of things to work for and take care of. I firmly believe there's something to that. Oklahoma is so eager to leave behind a slow, agricultural feel, for what? More high rises, more congestion, higher prices—the "real" life. Says who? Sometimes I feel we are on this huge wheel and slowly but surely it's sped up every so often. The more I read about how the schools need longer days, longer school years, less "play" time, the happier I am that my children are grown and I don't have to fight the institutions just to have time together as a family. Play is important for kids! Kids of all ages! We can learn a lot that way. Somehow we've come to this idea that if it's fun, it can't possibly be anything important. What a waste. Kids can't even play tag anymore because they're too fragile inside to withstand being "it." What are we doing to the kids? Are we really so in love with the idea of making money that we no longer have time to play with our kids? Around here they strongly encourage putting your kids in school at three. THREE! What does that do to a family? How can the bond be as strong as it was back with kids worked alongside their parents throughout most of a day? I understand that there are some who really have no choice, and others who make the choice not to go in this direction. I just find fault with the idea that it's universally good for kids to be thrown together and "taught" by their peers and other adults more than they are their parents. No wonder we have kids who are so peer dependent that they can't choose a safer path unless they're willing to undergo the pain and ridicule of their "socialized" counterparts. Goodness. It's a mess.

I wish I could think of something else to write, but I am so tired it would probably become lugubrious if I continued. So tonight you get a measly 797 words, and you're probably very grateful, aren't you? Or would you have been more grateful 500 or so words ago? LOL! You never know what you're getting into around here. You've been warned!