Trash Thunder [RANT]

Woke up last Friday morning to what I assumed was more thunder from the previous night’s storm. Instead, I realized the nice men we pay to haul away what I deem unusable to the dump. If you know me, you know my history of up-cycling what other people would throw out into usable items. I have many friends who continuously give me items they have no use for to boost my creativity and happiness.

My husband thinks I am just hoarding garbage. At least my garbage doesn’t sit in areas designated to specific uses such as food prep until someone else gets tired of working around it and moves it for them. I know I am not alone in being the trash mover of the house. As they say, a mother’s work is never done.

My little darlings have been enjoying camp the last couple weeks. I had hoped to be more productive in my trash filling and moving efforts, but something isn’t quite right with me these days. Is it the continuing lack of a full night’s sleep? Does it have something to do with summer weather versus my charming polar bear nature? Could it be the smoke hanging over us like that table right next to the smoking section before they banned smoking in restaurants? Do I need an honest to goodness vacation where my nervous system isn’t plagued with everyone else demanding that I make them happy…even at the expense of myself?

Probably a little of all of these.

Like any self-respecting writer, I made some time to write, yet I still haven’t got ahead of my writing goals. I did find a stash of old writings in my hoard. They were written by me. Should I polish them up and present them to substack? Would you pay to see what was going on in my teenage mind? 

Suddenly, psychologists are checking in on this page with interest…

Rest Well Inspiration [RANT]

Once more life has crept in and piled stones on top of my muse. As she has been unable to breathe, the words dried up. I am working to lift off the stones but it is hard going, and people who claim to be helping are piling more stones on the pile faster than I can remove them. We’ll get there, dear readers. And then enjoyable stories will flow freely once more.

I need the stories to flow because, frankly, not having my own source of income has reached an untenable point. I have mentioned it before, but sometimes I just want to provide things for my children without having to ask, beg, or get a second or third opinion that agrees with mine and comes with a different degree than the two I possess. 

I have a BS in French and a BS in International Business. The university I received them from was accredited for both at the time of my graduation. I’ll spare you my disappointment with recent curriculum changes. But neither of those degrees was as industriously earned as the unofficial one I get every day in the trenches of motherhood and marriage. So trust me when I say that I have the best interests of my children at heart and I think about them all of the time. If I happen to forget, they invite me to cuddle them to sleep or allow me to pull them into my coat as we huddle at the bus stop in the freezing cold. If I have reached a conclusion regarding those tiny suns that I orbit, it isn’t a whim or a fancy, a lot of thought and planning went into my decision.

As previously alluded, November proved a dry month for my musings. Did you notice? I did but I couldn’t force out subpar writing and pass it off as worth the price of admission. So some feelings bled out in poetry and radio silence took hold here for a bit, but I am trying to rally. After all, I used to think I could write 50,000 words every November between family engagements and being high on pie.

The demise of Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) hit some of us a little harder than expected. Yes, we could still write but where were our comrades in the fight against that blank page? I feel disconnected from my writer friends. Was it COVID? Was it discovering part of my heart wandering around outside my body and needing mama’s love and attention? Maybe?

Maybe I need to rebuild some severed connections with people who get me and value my opinion and share my love for words and weird and wild and wonderful. Why do we let ourselves get disconnected? Why do we let our loved ones become less of who we fell in love with?

I’m all questions, so perhaps I should wrap this up and go answer questions my writing pieces have been asking for months now. Cheer me on!

Caught Between Celebrations [RANT]

This proved an exhausting two weeks at Casa Hobbit. Camp ended the week before last so my babies were home to be entertained by me. Their father also took off most of last week to spend time with us. Has anyone noticed how differently each of us defines spending time?

Despite all the quality family time, I did finish beta reading two novels. One was the fist of a fantasy series with quite a bit of humor thrown in. The second was a reimagining of Jane Austen’s “Pride and Prejudice”. I’ve read many novels of this genre by this author and haven’t got bored of them yet, so that is the rousing endorsement she needs.

My own writing has been shuffling along. I have posted a couple of poems and poked at some short stories. More entertainment should be forthcoming if I can stop being distracted. But how do I keep getting distracted?

A friend introduced me to a page where I can give away random stuff from my hoard. I managed to offload one clothes dryer, one microwave, a pack-n-play, and some nursing supplies. My husband now excitedly wants me to post just about everything in the house. That will not be happening, so don’t expect to be getting free journals, etc. 

If you are interested in purchasing some of my crafts, however, please let me know. My kids will appreciate it as this is how I plan to fund their extracurricular activities. My husband isn’t too keen on paying the fees for camps and such. I get it because the good ones are a bit expensive, but if our summer schedule has proved anything, it is that I am not nearly exciting enough for my little clones. And play dates don’t work when all their little friends are in camp.

Hope your summer is going well. The temperature is down this morning, so I feel things have improved dramatically.

Paying Attention and Happy Campers [RANT]

Most of my inadvertently sugar-free pie may be currently waiting for me in my freezer. Even I couldn’t eat most of three pies before they went bad. A friend let me have some pie that he remembered to put sugar in on Sunday, so it was a pie win weekend. Add that to spending the Fourth with some adopt-a-siblings and the whole weekend proved fun. The cousins all played happily and the tiny humans who weren’t mine didn’t want to leave despite the fact that it was way past everybody’s bedtimes and potentially homicidal cats awaited them at home.

The smaller humans didn’t even give watching fireworks over the trees much of a go until around ten. Their arrival did inspire us to wander into our neighbor’s driveway which provided a much better view of the proceedings. Up until that point , we were in my driveway, spinning around in circles every time we heard a promising pop from any direction.

Saturday morning was less satisfying. I volunteer at my local FamilySearch Center so people can come in and look up their ancestors. We have many volunteers but not enough to man the center more often than every Saturday. As they are donating their time, volunteers tend not to be available around major holidays, so we don’t open our doors those weekends.

I was amazed that I woke up by the time I would normally head down for a shift. My tiny bosses woke up early as well, so we were watching “Thundercats” together when a friend called to ask if anyone was supposed to be at the center. Apparently, a volunteer missed that the Fifth of July was listed closed on the schedule that I send out periodically and made an appointment for someone to get help that day. Anyone else feel like people don’t pay attention to information they impart?

This week was the first week of camp for my darlings. Their camp lets them learn to appreciate how musical theater can help them to express themselves. The directors picked a Hawaiian theme this year, so we prepped by watching “Lilo and Stich.” Hopefully, they get to hula like Lilo.

Mom camp has involved trying to make dents in messes throughout the house and keep writing. I owe my substackers some stories, but no one has crossed over to being a paid subscriber and it feels like the only views are me, so I will ease into assigning myself deadlines.

If I can resist my other hobbies, my writing goals might go easier. With my little monkeys eating at camp, I found myself with a bevy of overripe bananas. Now I have almond banana blondies, banana pudding cheesecake, and banana foster cake to rehome to my belly, unsuspecting friends, and my freezer.

Updates and Unique Unicorns [RANT]

Playdates and lack of sleep have thrown off the summer schedule but we are muddling through. Well, I am muddling through. Everyone else seems determined to consciously create chaos wherever we may be. 

My oldest child has a friend who has a pool, so both kids want to go over there every day. My new friend (the mother of my child’s friend) says we are welcome to pop over everyday. I am not sure she realizes what such an invitation brings. I think I have to let people enjoy my uniqueness in doses, so I will not take advantage of her kindness.

Aside from that, even with just two fabulous playdates this week, my house feels neglected. The piles get bigger and not in a good way. For instance, they are not huge piles of money that make me dream of being like Scrooge McDuck and swimming in my money. Instead, I soak my hands in soapy water and try to knock back funny smells by giving my new washer a workout. 

I got behind on my writing goals. Since I posted a poem and then realized I did a horrible job editing it last week, I need to get ahead of this goal and not behind it. I also owe my potential substack readers one more post of actual prose since I am planning to make most of the content there only available to paid subscribers in July.

No, I will not be offended if you subscribe to my substack as my birthday gift. I might be sad if you never read my posts or give me feedback though. Not sure why I am so needy about these things. It is good to know that what you create brings joy in to the world.

Why else would I keep subjecting people to cake, brownies, cookies, muffins, and other treats? It isn’t because I make too much for one. Or because my freezer is overflowing with goodies. Well, maybe a little.

That doesn’t stop me from popping out for an ice cream date with a friend. Sometimes, you need to step away from everything you need to do and relax. Tonight, our waitress seemed surprised that I ordered the Cookie Monster ice cream. She warned me that it was VERY blue and would stain my lips and teeth. I reassured her that I did want it and I do know how to use a toothbrush. She seemed satisfied.

After I had a chance to partake of some of my treat, she came back to check on us. I beamed at her and asked if I looked like a Smurf yet. She responded in the affirmative and wandered off again. The evening culminated with her commenting that no one had ever finished the blue menace before. I wonder what her response would have been if I licked up the dribbles from the side of the glass. I always amaze people when I eat ice cream. Want to know what I mean? You can buy my ice cream and find out…

Clearly, I know how to party like it is summer!!!

Contemplation [POETRY] + [RANT]

 

Come to me

Let this be

Our moment of sun

Say you’re the one

Whose belief

Offers relief

And catch this

Chaste kiss

Before the fall

That takes all

Before the rise

Phoenix eyes

Feathers aflame

To lay claim

To my name

~~~

So I have been contemplating substack. I have a couple of friends who are already using it to share their work Would that motivate me to follow my own self-appointed deadline of worthwhile content? Would my friends still want to read my ramblings if there was a small fee associated?

If so what would be my focus?

Poetry

Faith

Food

Short stories

I feel like these rants would still reside here . No one wants to miss out on what is on my mind, right? Especially, the other moms who don’t realize how much they did each day until they are lying in bed exhausted and wondering why this hurts and that aches.

This week, I have been procrastinating writing to conquer laundry mountain. My washing machine gave up the spin cycle around Memorial Day and its replacement arrived on Wednesday. Four people plus no washer equals hugs piles of clothes. My new washer is definitely getting a workout this week.

But I have conquered enough that I sat down to update dear readers. Of course, I listened to a talk on charity this morning and decided to mow the front lawn, so my husband has that much less to do. Will he appreciate it? Or take it as his due?

My summer procrastination centers around today being the last day of school for my two lovely clones. I caught up with a few friends over the past couple of weeks because my focus this summer will be trying to keep my babies active and engaged. So wish me luck because it is going to be a fight to convince them we aren’t watching television all summer. No matter how much we want to watch every episode of every 80s cartoon…

Survivor [RANT] [POETRY]

I know I have been remiss, but, like a friend’s son, I am a flu survivor. If you got flu A this year and felt like a slug or a sloth for a couple of weeks afterward, you know where I am coming from. I was gifted this fine gift and it came to fruition Christmas Day and kept on giving. Don’t worry. I am feeling better this week. I even started arranging items in my newly remodeled kitchen and my front room, which only got new flooring but ended up needing rearranged as well. In the meantime, all my dear muse has given me is a couple of poems, which I will share with you for you to whet your appetites for what I hope shall be a year for words in masterpiece form.

All My Excuses 

All my excuses fall on deaf ears

No one can hear through a barrage of tears

That is not what they want to find here

They need more words to hold dear 

Every excuse keeps back that fiction

Which can become both cure and addiction

So forgive the remiss and wait a bit more

For Muse to inspire as before

What Dream Is This?

We meet here, no prying eyes to fear

Castle by the roadside, friends who hide

Because before we knew, someone else loved you

But we’re just friends, amity never ends

At declaration of old adoration

Then lights catch me, before I can see

Where you are, I know this car

How did he know we had chose this place to be

His eyes cannot disguise

Disappointment that I dared to deny

Unspoken request, old lover’s behest

That your friend I can’t be as he introduced you and me

The End is Nigh [RANT]

That is what I tell myself as I look at the number of words written versus those expected as I come toward the finish line. Am I limping along behind? Yes, I am definitely limping and have been for days. Does it have something to do with my confused brain giving November a thirty-first day in last week’s post? Or does it have something to do with remodels being loud and sweet children being louder? Have I just not eaten enough pie?

Day 16: Finding a husband who isn’t completely horrified by conversations about the current state of the fingernail I crushed and bruised in September. He didn’t even run screaming or turn a sickly shade of green when I used the turn “blood jam” to describe the current state of affairs and proceeded to show him my injury. Sorry for my squeamish readers. Now you can be grateful that I rarely include pictures. My husband has not been so lucky.

Day 17: My friends being willing to share their thoughts on scriptures and spirituality and translate my thoughts into concepts that make sense to normal humans. You probably need that service for my previous sentence.

Day 18: Finally hearing back from the electrician because I miss my kitchen.

Day 19: Not being too late to place an order for Thanksgiving dinner from a local restaurant. (See all previous statements about my kitchen.)

Day 20: My neighbor being willing to walk my girls home when I got delayed on my way to to the bus.

Day 21: Fresh fruits and vegetables and the magicians who grown them. The share I get from a local farm helps me expand my eating horizons and provides me with fresh deliciousness that I already know I adore.

Day 22: Being able to share with others. I do love to take advantage of the free turkey offers, but I can only hide one in the freezer, and (broken record) I will not be cooking my own turkey for Thanksgiving this year.

It has definitely been a week. Just to be safe, you should send pie ;)

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.

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.

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.