rambling

A Lull in the Blogosphere: Rambling Observations


The wind shifted last evening. I walked out of the library with L and L from writing group and was met with a blast meant to topple a person. The chill was barely there, but the ferocity left no doubt that Mother Nature is tiring of Indian Summer.

I wrestled the steering wheel the whole way home. Even toyed with the idea of scooting through town as opposed to taking the highway and the rural road, but the latter is faster and I was already running late.  Much as I love writing group, I miss evenings with Rob. We are just coming off a three day weekend and have another coming up with Thanksgiving next Monday, but even the generous amount of time we spend never seems quite enough.

The coming weekend is full of kid stuff. ElderD is 26 this Saturday. It seems odd to me to have a daughter that age. Grown children are so different than little ones. They relate on levels that a person doesn’t dream is possible when the daily battles of “Yes, you will be wearing shoes out to play when it is 8 C” or “No, we will not be eating bad food* for dinner like X, Y and Z school friends do.” 

Young children are a job. The work that goes into forcibly molding them into people other people will not run screaming from is taxing, and I am only guessing, but I think that’s what makes adult children such a compound joy because not only are they the kind of people you want to spend time with but you helped in the process that made them so.

Thanksgiving will be both older girls and possibly ElderD’s “friend”. I use the quote only because Rob and I really don’t know what kind of relationship is in the offing here. ED is so in love with him and he professes love for her – she tells us, but though they have recently moved in together – they each have their own bedroom. Perhaps this is a new thing with young adults? 

Anyway, the house will be full and I am attempting more culinary feats that two years ago I would have thought a person was mildly insance for suggesting that I try. Homemade everything really or I won’t be able to eat. Pumpkin pie, Zuchinni bread. Cranberry sauce. Salmon and Turkey breast. Yams and mashed potatoes with a side of green beans from our garden. I am awesome, don’t you think?

The blogs seem oddly quiet today given that the financial world is still in freefall and Obama and McCain “debated” last night. I missed the debate. A cursory glance at the news this morning that Obama was charming and “presidential” and McCain was angry when he wasn’t just grumpy or playing Obama’s echo. I feel sorry for them both. Obama will inherit a straight-jacketed office from Bush and McCain will never get this shot again. And god forbid that Palin is still viable in 2012.

Rob greeted me this morning with news that interest rates were cut again. All the money and cuts don’t seem to be having their intended effect however. Are investors and Wall Street types too girly for such a stressful pastime? It is appearing so. 

I saw an interesting piece last night on AIG. Apparently a week after their $85billion dollar bail out, they sent their top officials to a ritzy spa in L.A. for a modest $440,000. Hey, they were stressed – supports my girly theory nicely, don’t ya think?

Speaking of financial crisis, I have a piece up at MSU on the bailout and such. I would be pleased if some of you checked it out.

I am nearly ready to launch my maiden piece at 50 Something Moms too. However, my editor wanted me to take out the reference to my age. I am one of – or the – youngest writers there and my mentioning my age caused a bit of commenting she told me. It makes my topic apt though – being inbetween. Forty-something is the new thirty only in the minds of advertisers. To everyone else I am still not young anymore and not old enough to be part of the “mature” woman crowd.

Reminds me of the Harry and Sally exchange in the film when she wails about turning forty and he reminds her that it is eight years off. She comes back with “but it’s out there – looming!” 

I am looming. Hovering. Not young and not old. Not a writer yet and more than a housewife.

Another story rejection arrived the other day from failbetter.com. The White Boots. It’s one of my personal favorites, but I know why it’s being rejected and I have decided that perhaps I can rework it and fit it into Drama Boy’s story. 

Drama boy is a character from my NaNoWriMo novel of last year. In it I attempted to fictionalize my widow experience but I think now that the focus should have been on his character and not my doppleganger. The White Boots can become part of his back story though that will make him more “Rob-like” than he already was – which is weird because I conceived his character long before I met Rob. Prescience, eh?

But I recall promising Sally that I would publish the story here should I fail to get it into print elsewhere. So look for it this week. Friday maybe? I am not pleased with T-shirt Friday. It has a too exhibitionist feel to it. Not that I am not. Rob teases me – accurately – about this tendency of mine from time to time. But one, I am not a t-shirt kind of girl, and two, it feels lonely. So let’s consider it history, shall we? 

I am thinking that perhaps a Halloween Friday might make up for it at the end of the month as the last Friday is the 31st. Let’s ponder that a bit. Let me know what you think.

Ah, rambling, it is so much easier than actual writing with that whole “sticking to a topic” thing and all.

 

*Baby also asked why her friends tummies are big whereas her own is flat. “Is it because they eat bad food?” To which I responded that they also likely watched too much tv when they should be playing. She then told me she was glad that she was not fat like they were. Oops. Now what have I done?

Sick in Bed


I spent the majority of Monday in bed. Disease has been weaving its way around me for weeks now with MidKid and Rob suffering from something that isn’t quite the pneumonic plague but certainly sounds juicy and raspy.

Of course with our first anniversary looming and the fact that I just felt generally invincible, I didn’t take any precautions. No obsessive hand washing or sanitizing hand gels. Didn’t don a mask. Certainly didn’t entertain the thought of separate sleeping accommodations.

So I am sick. But judging from the disparity in our symptoms it is more likely that the humid weather on our trip triggered allergies which have led to a sinus infection. It has all the classic hallmarks: sore eyeballs, tender facial bones, tickly dry cough, out of body lightheaded feeling.

I am toughing it out with bed rest and the most vile of herbal teas. Rest and liquids (and Sudafed).

Back in the day, I was stricken with sinus on and off all spring and summer and into the fall sometimes. The z-pack was my friend. Since moving up to the arid prairie, I have had one sinus infection and I basically just toughed it out for a few days. Like I am doing right now.

It’s a bit inconvenient but on the up side, I am getting a lot of blogging done for this week and next (yes, I blog ahead – where would you be gentle readers if I didn’t, eh?). And I am making much progress with slogging through the ebook on book store ownership.

Not a fascinating read and there is more piddly detail to business owning then there was to teaching, but I know what I need to do and have more questions for the current shop owner as a result.

Sunday I was feeling so cooped up that I escaped into town on my own to scan the bookshop again and wander through Staples. Oddly, or perhaps not for me, wandering among the aisles of an office supply store is relaxing. I do so love paper and writing utensils and the millions of ways to store them.

Today however I haven’t minded being quarantined in the bedroom.

Rob finally gave in and went to the walk in clinic. Sinus infection. Brought on by the virus that preceded it and his stubborn refusal to rest. Despite still feeling like a pile of poop himself, he has taken care of me. Bringing me tea and Sudafed. Napping with me. And taking care of lunch and supper for BabyDaughter.

Still, I was up a few times. Managed to do dishes three times. Ironic because we do have the new dishwasher now. It’s been plugging the hole in the cabinetry since before we left on holiday. Not hooked up, but good things come to those of us with the patience to wait.

In the olden days I would have watched TV.

We don’t have a television in our room. It eventually leads down the path of infrequent sex. Evil like that has no place in our bedroom. I wouldn’t know what to watch anyway, and I have noticed on the trips we have taken to our folks that Rob and I have a tendency to watch TV now as though we were new found aboriginals from the deepest part of the Amazon.

I could have watched a movie, but again it just has the aura of time suck about it. I would rather read and write and think about the mapping and organizing that needs doing in the coming days and how I am going to accomplish it. This just eats up a day like nobody’s business.

Writer’s Block


I can write about anything but my stories right now it seems and I am a little frustrated. I guess it’s a good thing that I can write at all and so I will try to focus on the up side, but I feel a little like I am screaming into a wormhole. Maybe there are people on the other side who are hearing me but I feel a bit alone here on the blog. I have my loyal commenters and they help, but the anonymous come and read? and go without a sound, just a click of the counter. Maybe it is feed back I am missing? Maybe I should start a page for a piece of fiction? But I worry about exposing my fiction to the web on my own because my publishers consider stuff on blogs as having been previously published which is ironic since they don’t give you writing experience credit for being a blogger in the first place.

I still haven’t heard back on any of the stuff that is out and the superstitious side of me thinks it is because I haven’t gotten my residency card or a work permit yet. If I had one or the other, things would start to happen. I have gotten my first approval and Rob sent in the fee for my work permit which I should have by the end of this month or beginning of the next. The PR card itself is waiting on an FBI fingerprint background check. We didn’t do that back in October because it wasn’t clear that CIC wanted both that and a state check. Another example of how badly worded the application directions are. They have been sent and will take about a month to get back. Add to that another month for CIC to get the results and process them and we are now looking at June for residency at the earliest. Frustrating. 

My mood of the day is frustrated. It’s not spring. I can’t focus to write really. I feel fat. My child is crabby. And the coyotes are too afraid of Cat to eat her like we hoped they would. Seriously, we have a Cat that is too feral to keep indoors but too tame to dump in the woods and a fields all around us stocked with coyote. Since it has been warm, Cat has been living outdoors instead of in the garage and not one blessed thing has happened to her expect perhaps she is keeping the coyotes away from our yard. I kid you not, even the toms in the neighborhood are afraid of her, so the idea that she would frighten wilder animals is not that far-fetched.

Jordan was home for supper last night. She brought her “friend”. He is an ex-boyfriend whom I am not fond of simply because of the things that Rob and Farron have related to me. Jordan has a way of attracting decidedly off-beat, and in need of social skills, young men. She was telling us about the latest to be attracted to her, a young man with two inoperable brain tumors who works at the liquor store with her. He has attached himself to her like an extra appendage and she is too polite to reclaim her space. And it’s not just the brain tumor. She would feel sorry for him regardless because he is just one of those people who appears to have been raised by wolves but probably just had your average two people who shouldn’t have ben parents upbringing that so many of us get stuck with. Except that most of us survive that and he didn’t. The brain tumors are just icing on this rather untasty cake.

Katy was quite taken with Jordan’s friend because he played games with her before dinner. She gets so excited when either of the older girls comes to visit but she doesn’t understand that they are much too old to be the sisters that she longs for. Jordan’s friend promised to play games again after dinner but instead sat at the table chatting – as adults are wont to do. After a while of waiting patiently in the living room, she ran upstairs and burst into tear. I went up and comforted her. Her feelings were hurt and it’s hard to explain to her that she just isn’t going to have a sister kind of relationship with Jordan or Farron or anyone they bring home. That is just something she will have to learn over time. There is too much of a gap and despite their willingness, neither of the older girls is going to be able to bridge it given the short amount of time Katy sees them and that will likely only get worse as they get older too.

Environment Canada promised sun today and it’s 2:30 and only just peeking. I am trying to be patient but I want spring. I want warmth and sun and dry.