Friday, November 15, 2024

Halfway Points [RANT]

At noon tomorrow, I reach my halfway mark for this wild party called National Novel Writing Month. But how goes my progress? It isn’t exactly good. I am mostly there if Murphy’s Law will stop jumping up to bite my ankles.

Aside from that, I need to add flesh to the bones of the chapters I have allegedly finished. When I glance back to confirm consistency and details, I see more telling than showing, which is less fun for my dear readers. Yet I forge through to new chapters and new turns of events because that is where my word count thrives and blossoms like kudzu.


And my celebrations of gratitude for pie? At this point, it looks like outsourcing our Thanksgiving feast will be the best option. While I find cooking fun and relaxing, for the most part, figuring out how to prepare my level of required deliciousness with the current state of my kitchen distracts me from all the other busyness exploding like fireworks in this November.


And finally, that little ray of sunshine we all need this month. The one that isn’t pie. What has this hobbit been grateful for this week?


Day 9: The ability to access so much information so quickly through the wonders of the internet.

Day 10: Fluffy socks make walks on cold mornings more viable even for a polar bear.

Day 11: When it rains at night. That way I can still walk myself in the morning and then get into everything else that requires my attention.

Day 12: Being reminded not to let the busyness get me down. Listened to a podcast yesterday that really delivered that message.

Day 13: Gentle writing reminders such as this, “If it’s curing insomnia or impossible to proofread, chuck it.” Yep, still fighting the word fight over here.

Day 14: Salad to cheer me up. Yes, sometimes even I need more than pie for sustenance.

Day 15: Friendly people who aren’t freaked out by my overly friendly oldest child who tried to make friends with everyone (and possibly a painting or two) at the eye doctor’s office this morning.

Friday, November 8, 2024

A Month for the Bees [RANT]

Every month is busy. For instance, November holds myriad tasks for me. What could possible contribute to the busyness of this particular month? Aside from being that master of all trades known as Mom?

First November special project? National Novel Writing Month, of course. A daily expectation of 1,667 words doesn’t seem quite as daunting until you are trying to get them on the digital page. So I must be prepared to bribe those muses with leftover Halloween candy and declarations of appreciation and respect.


Then we turn to the major focus of this month, appreciating what we have in our lives. I failed to get started with that on social media, so can I share some of that gratitude here with you? (If not, just scroll past the obvious list.)


Day 1: Making my first day of NaNoWriMo’s quota. 


Day 2: My muse keeping me up a little late in the interests of getting ahead of Sunday’s quota so I could focus on the Sabbath Day.


Day 3: That extra hour of sleep. No one ever seems quite as excited about Daylight Savings Time in the spring, do they?


Day 4: Friendly people even if they sometimes keep me on the phone when I should be writing.


Day 5: Opportunities to remind my friends they are amazing.


Day 6: The joy of freezer archaeology. You haven’t lived until you realize why people keep counseling you to write what you have hidden in the freezer backlog before placing it there.


Day 7: Sweet dog owners who let me love on their babies when we see them in the park. 


Day 8: The lady with the bright green safety sash who walks every day and makes me feel I can do it. I think I surprised her this morning by waving excitedly at her from across the street as we both wandered through the autumn chill and crisp leaves.


Anything you are grateful for? You don’t have to say free writings from me unless it is true.


And my anniversary falls this month. I may be without an oven to bake my anniversary cake. Uh-oh! Think I can talk my husband into purchasing me something fancy from a bakery besides my own?


But our oven might not be available because our kitchen is getting an upgrade. I have my fingers crossed that it will be completed before Thanksgiving (a couple days before Thanksgiving), but I am not feeling optimistic about that, which wasn’t helped by the electrician giggling when I told him that was my impossible dream. I am looking forward to having more room to dance while I cook and more prep space for the cookies and cakes that most people in my circle of influence seem to appreciate.


And, of course, Thanksgiving makes my heart flutter for obvious reasons. Who doesn’t love pie? And turkey? And the various sides? And family? And friends? And cranberry sauce whether you prefer it to have lumps or the shape of a can?


So now you may be asking, “What more could she have to do?” I keep remaking a commitment to myself to get out and walk more to counterbalance my obvious affection for food a smidge, so I have to throw that into my daily tasks. It is much easier to break a habit than to form one.

 

Then Christmas prep comes tumbling down the chute. I fell into the tradition of decorating and getting those cards started the day after Thanksgiving, so that also falls in November. Sometimes I craft handmade gifts for people, but between my kitchen being out of commission and my guest room overflowing with items moved from the kitchen to make a clean slate for the contractors, some recipients may not be happy with this elf this year. I ask forgiveness in advance.


What makes November busy for you?


Feels like my theme for this month is pop quizzes, doesn’t it? Anyone want to take pity on me and answer questions or are you waiting until December because you have 50,000 words to write?


Don’t worry, my muse declared that I must post something more fun and fictional for Black Friday, so keep checking in. Persistence and loyalty should be rewarded. That was definitely not a question. I already have most of your reward completed. Now it needs to steep before I come back through and review it to make it worthy of my dear readers.


Friday, November 1, 2024

NaNoWrimo Takes Me Away Again

November has come again. A time when my mind turns to pie and words. As my faithful readers probably can guess, I might not have much to share here, but don’t give up hope. Maybe this is the year my muse will inspire me daily and whip up a fire within me that leads to a completed novel for you and I to share.

Now for a pop quiz:


1. Are you wishing I would finish Opera’s story?

2. Are you excited for something new?

3. Would you share my writing with others if I did the unbelievable and finished something?

4. For those who have read my shorter pieces, what ones stood out to you?


Looking forward to some answers to my pop quiz. Email me or leave a comment below or private message me on Facebook. If you found your way here, I know you have at least one of those methods to contact me. 


A small update, I hit my quota today, so that is a step in the right direction.

Truly Horrifying [RANT]

In an effort to get the blood flowing to my poor blocked brain, I have been wandering random neighborhoods. The decorations for the upcoming celebration of Halloween are phenomenal. Zombies are crawling out of formerly pristine lawns. Witches and ghosts are floating from trees, dancing erratically when the wind picks up. Pumpkins are everywhere reminding us to spice them up and eat them before they come for us—we are spicy enough without a mix of cinnamon and her spicy friends.


Then an array of signs choosing red, white and blue, over orange and black crop up on every other lawn. Some of them speak of logical review of the platforms put forth by our choices for various political positions. Others declare the worst quality of the candidate as if that proves enough reason to vote for them. Yes, I have seen them for most of the major candidates. This does not reassure me in any way about the direction in which our country and our world is headed.


So I am begging you to look beyond your initial hatred or disrespect for one candidate or love for the other and look at where the country is headed. And, for love of all that is good, please be kind and loving to your neighbors, even if their beliefs or political leanings differ from your own. We vote so we have the chance to show what we want our country to become not to lower ourselves to animals and start tearing out throats because of a hint of danger that may not truly be there.


I did see one sign that wasn’t terrifying though.




He isn’t running for office though. He simply offers an example of turning the other cheek and choosing to lift others up instead of kicking them down.


Oy, just realized this never posted. My apologies.

Friday, October 18, 2024

Halloween Poetry

I know, dear readers, I am having an existential crisis about the novel I have been sharing here. It might need reworked from the ground up. In the meantime, I offer you these small tokens of appreciation to amuse you. Thank goodness for poetry writing prompts and the inspiration of spooky season.


Haunted House


This house haunts me

Quakes and grows 

It worships, vaunts me

But no one knows

How its walls

Squeeze my heart

How its calls

Tear me apart

I seek it and only find

Tarnished memories, left behind

So how can a house haunt still

When it has no walls to fill?


Housed Haunt


Give me walls, well-remembered

Familiar hearth, warm embers

For no body clothes this soul 

Years unrestrained, terrible toll 

But I’d pay it to watch still

Though some say it will

Haunt me even as I haunt these halls

And keep me locked within these walls

Yet at home I will ever be

As long as none vanquish me


Back to Snack


Red drops 

Heart pops

Sweet treat

Slow feet

Love this 

Vamp kiss

My snack

Fights back

But I

Deny

Release

Fights cease

Accept

Inept

Human

I can

Snack now

See how

Friday, August 16, 2024

Chapter 18: Nature

Another offering for my faithful readers. I feel like I need to sleep more before I write, but when will I find that time?


Chapter 1: Nature
Chapter 2: Nurture
Chapter 3: Nurture
Chapter 4: Nurture
Chapter 5: Nature
Chapter 6: Nurture
Chapter 7: Nurture
Chapter 8: Nurture
Chapter 9: Nurture
Chapter 10: Nature
Chapter 11: Nature
Chapter 12: Nurture
Chapter 13: Nurture
Chapter 14: Nature
Chapter 15: Nurture
Chapter 16: Nurture
Chapter 17: Nature


How could the second day of school compare to the first? Nerves have settled. Connections have been renewed. New friendships might even have seeds planted in young hearts. And even so early in the year, some lucky kids already had something to look forward to each day. For some it was the chance to see friends. Others can’t wait to learn. Then there’s me, looking for my sister who wasn’t my sister though I felt I had known her since before she was born.


Maggie found me outside the school, so I could walk her to class. She declared this the best part of her day before we parted with a hug that reassured me she would feel exactly the same excitement on the last day of school. I returned her hug and offered a grin that mirrored her own. With one last backward glance, she disappeared into her classroom. I turned toward my own, ruminating on the expectations of a second day some more.


Teachers had been assessed. Seats had been claimed. A certain order had fallen into our young lives that summer never seemed able to offer. Of course, we weren’t orderly enough to already know the new schedule and expectations of a new classroom and a new teacher. 


Ms. Compton smiled at us from under her tight, dark curls as she gently rapped on her desk to attract our attention. Her sharp, dark eyes focused on those who didn’t immediately look up until she claimed the attention of even the most wandering minds.


“Silent reading time has ended. Not that you were as quiet as you could be, please focus on me now.”


As our minds followed our eyes to concentrate on her, a solid knock resounds from the open door. A tall slender figure stands just inside the doorframe with a smaller figure hiding in his shadow. A well-worn, dark suit hangs from his shoulders with folds of cloth speaking of weight lost since its purchase. He glanced around the room, smiling at the familiar faces that have now turned to us.


“If I may, Ms. Compton,” he gestured with his hand for an invitation to enter.


“Of course, Principal Johnson,” she smiled up at him.


He shambled into the room with his shadow slowly following in his wake. Even from my vantage toward the back of the room, his blue eyes startled me with their light shade. Shaggy golden hair fell like a fine mop over his forehead and covered them for a moment. He threw his head back to reveal those eyes once more, but he quickly tilted his gaze back toward the floor to avoid making eye contact with any of us.


The principal leaned in to whisper quietly to our teacher. She nodded understanding and turned back to the class. “We have a new student this year. Please get to know him and make him feel welcome. His name is…” she paused to look at him as her lip quirked upward, “Doll Lindquist.”


He frowned at her and turned pale, rebellious eyes toward the classroom as snickers erupted around me.


“You may sit in the empty seat next to Opera,” our teacher waved her hand magnanimously in my direction. “Raise your hand, Opera.”


I raised my hand reluctantly. Doll bobbed his head and shuffled toward me with whispered voices for theme music. The teacher turned her eyes back to the principal as he leaned in to say something more. I turned to whisper to my new neighbor.


“Your name is Doll?” I blinked as I met his unflinching gaze.


“It’s short for Rudolph. What of it?” He glared at me so severely that the chuckle in my throat stifled and faded away.


I cleared my throat and extended my hand, hoping to distract him from the shame coloring my cheeks. He grinned at me and took my hand in a firm handshake. I sighed at the implied acceptance of my unspoken apology.


“So your name is Opera?”


Now I tried not bristle at his teasing tone. “Yes, it is. What of it?”


“I like it,” he offered a shy smile.


As the teacher and principal continued their whispered discourse, other students found bravery.


“All the girls want to play with their doll,” the other boys chanted, “Especially Opera.”

 

“Cover your ears before she sings.” One of the boys chortled but no one joined in his gaiety, too dense to get it or too smart to laugh at such a poor insult.


I rolled my eyes at them and turned back to our conversation with a raised voice, “They’re just jealous.”


Ms. Compton cleared her throat. Then we realized the principal had stepped back out of the room. As if we practiced synchronicity, every student turned to face her, folding our hands in front of us on our desks.


She shook her head at us, “That was very rude of you. It is time to return to learning, but first I will remind you that we practice kindness in our classroom.”





Friday, August 9, 2024

Chapter 17: Nature

Sorry this is so short. My muses keep trying to direct me to other tales to tell, so I have been struggling to tell this particular story. I hoping to get them back on board with completing this one soon. Feel free to send inspiring treats ;)


Second grade awaited.  I nervously held my mother’s hand as we left the house. By the time we reached the school, I’d calmed my butterflies enough to quickly exit the car and blow her a kiss before waving goodbye. She waved goodbye and then bowed her head a little. As she slowly pulled away in response to a chorus of honks from the other parents in carline, I swear I saw her raise her right hand to flick something from her cheek. I didn’t give it much thought as they were diverted before they could form. 


“Opera!” An excited voice greeted me seconds before a tiny figure slammed into my body with such force that we barely managed to stay on our feet.


Enveloped in a rib-crushing hug, I gasped out my own greeting, “Maggie.”


“Our school,” she exclaimed happily, gesturing toward the brick edifice as she grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bank of double doors.


A tall man with salt and pepper hair nodded at me in recognition as he opened the door for us, “Have a great first day girls.”


“We will! We will!” Maggie exclaimed excitedly, squeezing my hand with surprising strength.


“You know we’re not in the same class, right?” I try to stem the tide of her enthusiasm.


“But we’re in the same school, so I get to see you.”


I smiled and squeezed back, “In the mornings, at least. I can walk you to class.”


“It’s this way,” she enthusiastically agreed by dragging me down the hall to a doorway in which a familiar face stood smiling at us.


“Opera, I didn’t know you had a baby sister. I should have guessed though,” my former kindergarten teacher, Ms. Madison beamed down at us, taking in our clasped hands and excited smiles.


“She’s not my sister,” I looked down at my shiny new shoes.


“But I should be,” Maggie assured her.


“Sometimes friends become the sisters we pick,” Ms. Madison says sagely, “It was nice to see you again, Opera.”


I hugged them both and then hurried down the hallway toward my own classroom.