All In My Head

Stymied

2012-01-09T14:55:00.000-04:00

Stymied. Good word, don't you think? STY-MEED.
I feel stymied today. And frustrated and resentful.

I work in service. I run a very small company, and I've been doing it for about 18 years. I don't know how it happened, but here I am, still running this company. I often feel blessed and grateful, but not today. Not lately.

Here is the thing: I am too nice. Way back when, I used to think that if I really did my best for people that they would appreciate it and I could earn their future business that way. I really believed that. I wanted to show people what I was capable of.  It was a strategy that reflected my personality and my values, it gave me room to have faith in people and enjoy my interactions with them. It was comfortable for me, and it served me with varying degrees of success for a long time. Lately, I think it's broken and it needs to change.

What I find now is that when I do my best for people, when I make an effort, when I share my expertise - people take everything I am willing to give and do and explain, and most of the time it doesn't lead to them spending money in my shop.  They may walk away having benefited a great deal from their conversation with me, but it doesn't mean they feel like I have earned anything at all from them. All many of them have learned is that I am a great person to call when they can't figure something out and they want free advice. When they are going to buy something, they go to a Big Box Store. Then when it doesn't work, guess who they call?

People also become more demanding according to how much (of anything) you are willing to provide. For instance, someone may approach me with a question, and if I don't seem to mind giving them a detailed answer, they will come up with another question, and then another. And would I mind showing them on the demo computer how to do X,Y,Z? And perhaps they could use my washroom? It's ridiculous how far people will push, without even seeming to notice that they're doing it, that they're taking advantage. And it's starting to make me angry.

I read somewhere that anger is a sign that you are not setting proper boundaries. Amen to that. I do recognize that I am allowing people to do this. I'm just not sure how to stop it. I have to be nice, because I do need people to shop here, get their work done here, and recommend us to other people. So where is the line between "nice" and "too nice?"

I've given this a lot of thought, and I think I will have to work on a few key areas:
1. Limit or eliminate small-talk. I need people to realize I am not here to chat. I need to work - and get paid. This one is hard for me, because I am naturally very friendly and chatty.
2. Work out exit strategies for conversations that go too long.
This can be done with body language for some people, but it's completely lost on others. For the others, I guess I'll actually have to start saying "Listen, I'm sorry but I have work to do." There are a lot of other handy tricks I use such as "The Repeater" - an approach in which, once I have said everything I am going to say, I reply to everything a person says by repeating one sentence, such as "You should contact your ISP about that." Or "Perhaps the people who sold you the computer/printer/hippopotamus can help you." Or "I'm sorry, I don't do telephone support for Hotmail." Sometimes I have to do that five times before the caller catches on, but they eventually do.
3. Smile less. I know, this one is weird. I'm still trying to puzzle out the science behind it, but there is something about having a smile that is too ready that just makes people feel very comfortable. And sure that's nice, but I think things have gone a little too far in that direction. I find if people feel like we're friends they expect me to do favours for them, or do the work at a discounted rate. If there is a scale that moves from "Pleasant" to "Professional," I need to push that needle farther to the right.

It's sad to think, but lately I find that a friendly demeanor just makes me vulnerable, somehow. There are people out there who think that because I'm doing good work or going the extra mile or even just taking more time than many would, that it means I must really need their business and they're going to use that. And that's really tricky for me, because I have a strong work ethic - I like to do my best for people. I'm not even sure I know how to just shrug out of a conversation that I know isn't going to be profitable - but I need to start thinking about that. Sometimes there are "customers" you can't afford to have.

Happy 2012!

2012-01-04T12:56:00.000-04:00

Happy New Year!

I don't really have the time to write a meaningful post about the things I learned and the ways I grew in 2011. I'll just have to say I loved and was loved, I laughed, I cried, I read, I cooked and I ate. According to my scale, maybe I over-achieved on that last one. BUT I did get asked for ID twice this year at the liquor store. (I'm 38, so that makes me really, really happy!)

That looks so weird. Am I really that old?

The one thing I know so far about 2012 is that it's going to be a Big One. Big decisions, hard choices, and long days are what's in store for me right now. I'd be terrified except I married the right man, and he makes sure I am always better than ok. I have such a very good life that even if I break everything, my kids will still be healthy and I will be all right. (Remind me later I said that, ok?)

So. Monthly Goals. For January:

I will finish my beta-read by January 15th.
I will reach 30K on Rundiamair.

Creamed Lobster on toast

2011-12-15T11:52:00.002-04:00

I have no photos of this most incredible Nova Scotia vice - call it a meal if you want to, but once you see my recipe you'll understand. Anyway, I looked around the internet to see if I could find any pictures I could use, and that's when I discovered that we prepare this differently than what seems to be the official way. This doesn't bother me one bit, and I invite you to try my very unscientific and completely unofficial way.

First, get some fresh lobsters from the man at the bottom of your street for $5/lb. Can't do that? Oh, I'm so sorry. Acquire lobster. If you must, you can use the frozen, canned stuff but be advised there is no tail meat in there. Still, for our purposes the frozen stuff beats no lobster every time. If you're using fresh lobster, 3 ~1lb lobsters will give you about 2 cups of meat. That (or one can) will feed two easily. Maybe more.

If you're using fresh lobster, I recommend having your husband buy it, cook it and get it out of the shell before you get home from work. Saves a lot of time. Actually, why don't you just have him do the whole job. Here's what he should do:

Get a medium saucepan and put about 4 Tbsp of butter in it, melt that. Cut the lobster into smallish bite-sized pieces and put it in the butter. Sprinkle with a pinch each of salt and pepper. Pour enough coffee cream to just about cover it, and heat it on medium or a tad bit higher.

Now the Experts say don't let it come to a boil, lest it curdle, but I am not an expert. (I've never had mine curdle.) Good thing, because I want you to simmer this and reduce it down by about a third. Then taste it and decide if you want more butter. (Hint: yes!) Now comes the hard part - stay with me - add more cream. Back to where it was before, just about covering the meat. Simmer. Repeat.

Serve Hamburger Helper to your children.

Once in a while, come over to the stove and poke the mixture with a wooden spoon. You want it to know that you don't have all night and you're hungry. Careful, don't drool into the pot. You'll know it's ready when the meat begins to sort of come apart and become one with the cream. It all turns pinkish. Taste it, check your seasonings. You can add more butter if you want - that's between you and your conscience.

Now you get some white bread and put it in the toaster. When it's toasted you can butter it. (I mean, why worry about it now?) Spoon some of the creamed lobster over the hot buttered toast.

At this point your husband will probably offer you the first plate. You should refuse, but just enough to be polite and not enough that he actually eats it himself.

Then you should take your bathroom scale and hide it in a safe place. In case there's leftovers.

Carbs: How do I love thee?

2011-12-13T11:45:00.000-04:00

I was getting ready for work this morning when my husband asked me if I had made a lunch.

"Yup!" I huffed, stuffing my leg into my jeans and buttoning up (with a little difficulty) on my way down the hall. Then I paused in the kitchen to pack what I had assembled. I laughed.
I had:
A bagel (bread)
Crackers (fried bread)
Cookies (bread with sugar)
and a sandwich (bread with meat)

My husband rolled his eyes and helped me make a salad.

I think maybe I should cut back on the carbs a little. It's just, I love them. I love toast with my tea. I love toasted cheese buns with hot chocolate. Ooh, you should try this: crush up some Harvest Cheddar Sun Chips in your tomato soup. I love sweets, and chocolate. Yes, I do.

Don't get me wrong, I also love meat. And cheese.

Vegetables? Not so much. Not at all, really.

BUT there's good news! There's an app for this. A free app! If you're an All Recipes junkie (like me) you'll enjoy this: try the DinnerSpinner. You pick your dish type: main dish, side dish, soup, or SALAD - then ingredients: seafood, chicken, beef, cheese, VEGETABLE - and the time you have to spend: 20 minutes or less - and it brings you suggestions. It's fun, which helps when you're faced with the prospect of preparing food that you don't really want to eat.

Want to share? What are your favourite vegetable recipes?

...And we're back

2011-11-28T10:07:00.001-04:00

Sort of. I've decided not to hire anyone right now. So there.

It's been a little rough, and sometimes I'm not sure just which direction I ought to go. So for now, we're going to hang out where we are, and wait for the answers to come to us. If a good one wanders too close to me, I'll snatch it and put it in my pocket.

As for writing, I've been having a terrific time. I wrote myself through the first act without any sort of outline, dropping breadcrumbs for subplots and singing softly to myself. I have arrived at the second act and some of those trails are heating up. Funny how life informs the plot of whatever you're writing - and brings you in directions you wouldn't otherwise have thought of. I like some of the ideas that are bubbling up. And apparently, I end many of my sentences with prepositions.

I need some coffee.

Progress. And then not.

2011-11-10T14:44:00.000-04:00

I've been training a new assistant for about two months now. My shop is a complex beast filled with gizmos, thingies, whatsits and hoojits - and before I can walk out that door during retail hours, I need a somebody I can trust to talk to people about all that stuff. Computers, you know. Shit happens.

We reached the point where I could relax a bit. The other day I even left two hours before the store closed - 2 hours! I went home and cooked supper and then I went to parent teacher conferences. Woot! But I felt like a real mom. I felt like I was getting to where I need to be - a place where I can span that space between work and home with a balance that feels more natural. More me.

And today she quit. Dammit, I liked her. It wasn't the job - she's decide to move back home to another province.

So I did what I do. I called my husband.
"Aw, shit." He said. And then: "Well, post your ad."
"What's the point?" This is the third time I've needed to hire a new assistant THIS YEAR. It's a soul-draining process that involves me wasting a lot of paper and disappointing a whole bunch of people.
"Don't go there," he said. "Just start again. Keep moving forward."

Keep moving forward.

So that's what I shall do. Those of you waiting for me to read, this won't make me any faster, I'm sorry! But I'm on it.

As for my own writing, I think I'm forging a place for that which can exist outside everything else. I am finding that I can retreat into this story in a way I haven't been able to in my previous WIPs. Maybe it's just more alive to me, somehow. Maybe this story is The One.

You know. The One I'll actually finish!

In the meantime, I have some...uh...stuff to look after.

3...2...1...winter

2011-11-01T14:51:00.001-03:00

November. I'm wearing socks today, for the first time in a long while. I guess it's time - on the way in to work this morning I saw people breathing steamy white clouds of breath. Like it or not, something chilly this way comes.

On the weekend I managed just about 2000 words, putting me at nearly halfway to my skinny first draft year-end goal. Looking at the overall word count and comparing it to to the events I've already written, I am thinking about pacing. I am trying NOT to think about pacing. Or structure. At all.

What I want to do this time is JUST WRITE the story - front to back, start to finish. This is an exercise in trusting myself, letting my subconscious guide me in an effort not to get all caught up in the things that are not writing. Index cards. Outlines. That stuff. I hang myself with that stuff.

However, I catch myself holding a few events back. There are some juicy bits waiting to be revealed, and I am hoarding them, hiding them. I think I need to release them into the story, so they can become a part of the fabric of the thing. That's what I love about writing this way - I'm never stuck. What happens now grows into what happens next, instead of me already knowing what's next, and twisting my plot into a mobius strip trying to get x y z in order.

So I hope you had a Happy Halloween. Put your pen on the paper and follow your heart!

The Little Moments

2011-10-28T10:55:00.001-03:00

"Hello?"
"Hi, um, my car is doing a thing."
"A thing?"
"Yeah. It's shaking. Or, like a wobble."
"A wobble."
"More like a shimmy, a tremor?"
He sighs. (This is the best I can do, honest.)
"Can you feel it in the steering wheel?"
"It's not doing it right now. Yes, I think so."
A pause. Then: "Pull over, I'm coming."

***
BamBam, talking to Pebbles at the bathroom sink: "This toothpaste is awesome. It fights cavities, sensitivity, bad breath and TAR TAR."
Pebbles, impressed: "Ooh. What's TAR TAR?"
BamBam" "I don't know. But it doesn't sound good."

***
The van stops in front of me on the shoulder of the highway. A handsome man climbs out. I hop out, kiss him, and steal his ride. As I pull away, I see him in the rearview mirror, bending to look underneath my car.

***
Pebbles: "I spelled ice cream!
BamBam: "Ice cream?"
Pebbles: "YES! BWAH HA! IN YOUR FACE!!!!"

***
"So, you made it home."
"Yep."
"You checked the car?"
"Yep."
"So? What was causing the wobble?"
"The wind."
Pause. "Really?"
"Yep."
"Oh. Well, I have to go now."
"Ok."
"Bye."
"Bye."

Protest, by all means. But don't forget why you can.

2011-10-26T16:51:00.000-03:00

In Halifax, as in many cities, we have protesters downtown taking part in the "Occupy Wall Street" movement. I understand what the protesters are complaining about - the Beast of Corporate Greed scares the schniz out of me too. And like the protesters, I haven't many good, clear suggestions what ought to be done about it. It's capitalism, whatcha gonna do? (My favourite quote about the whole thing so far is I something I heard in passing on the news, where one of the protesters borrowed a slogan from the gay community and declared "We're here, we're unclear, get used to it!)

So anyway. All that is fine. These questions are important.

Today in the news you'll find the mayor of the city wants the protesters to move out of the parade grounds so the place can be prepared for some city stuff - such as the Remembrance Day ceremony. Because this is Nova Scotia and we are Really Nice People, he's even offered them space on the Commons. No doubt the city will continue to provide porta-potties for them there, too. But I heard some of the protesters talking on the news this morning, saying they don't think they should move.

Excuse me? What?

Shame on you. This is Remembrance Day. You have the Right to Protest because people fought and died for you to have that right. You owe those people more than just respect, but you can start there. Pack up your stuff. Come back later if you want to, but Remembrance Day is not about you.

Just Jabbering

2011-10-21T13:40:00.000-03:00

It's a beautiful Indian summer day, 15 degrees (celcius) with a breeze that smells fresh and clean. That's probably because it really rained here yesterday - all day pouring rain that had some of the major thoroughfares closed due to being under water. On the eastern shore they measured just over 104mm of the stuff - more than twice the record for that day. New high score!

Climate change? What climate change???

In other news, Jennifer Hendren's book dropped this week! BY THE PALE MOONLIGHT is an edgy YA novel about a murder, a sexy werewolf named Ty, and a race for the truth - a race against the full moon. (Love that line!) You can find Jen here.

I can't wait to read it. It's the very next thing on my list!

So as for my other word-count foolishness and hijinks, I am leaving my goal as it stands. This is because I reviewed what I have, and my draft is very lean. It's skinny. I think I'll get to the end of the plot (as I know it right now) at about 40K, and that might be something I can accomplish before year's end. After that I need to flesh it out, fill it in. Feed it a few cheeseburgers, add some foreshadowing, extra description and slow down the pace because Iwritetoofast.

So thaaaaaat's what I'll do!

Kait wrote a good post about YA relationships today. So if you read my YA, don't be expecting anything steamy. At all. I MIGHT let them kiss (glares suspiciously at underaged characters.) MAYBE. If it's important.

Reality Check

2011-10-17T13:52:00.001-03:00

So I'm being stupid. Anyone surprised?
Shut up, you in the back!

If a typical YA is 60,000 words and there are 11 weeks left until the end of the year and I write (as I have these past few weeks) roughly 1500 words per week and a train leaves Cleveland, Ohio travelling at 145 km/h, there is no possible way for me to finish this book this year. The truth would be closer to 29 weeks, which is more like...the spring.

In order to finish this book this year I would have to suck at everything else. I say that like it's even an option, which of course it isn't. So I'm going to have to change my goal.
The thing is, if I take that long - 5 or 6 more month - to write it I'm almost certain to lose interest. This is what happens to me every time. Real life is first. My kids, my husband, my job - these are my First Things. Writing is after, and I wouldn't change that. I just need to sort out how to get more words written.

So, while I make a plan to make a plan, Trixie (my MC) has just been poisoned. I should go see how she's doing.

In which I try not to be creepy.

2011-10-13T10:58:00.003-03:00

Def Leppard! The answer is Def Leppard. :o)

So anyway. The word count is coming along well, I've progressed about 1500 words this week. My next challenge is to present Trixie's older brother Henry, who has been missing for four years. He's a murder suspect, wanted by the police. Trixie used to think he was innocent, but these days she's starting to see that there's more to her broken, messed-up family than meets the eye.

I have to figure out how to make him "hot," when Trixie certainly doesn't think so and I'm not supposed to think so, since he's like 21 years old and that would be a little creepy. I don't know. I'm new to this YA thing. And to tell you the truth, lately I'm a little startled to find out that some of these really good-looking guys in the movies are barely grown up at all. Hmmm. Disconcerting.

Don't be like me

2011-10-11T17:34:00.001-03:00

So we got to talking, here at work. There was a Theory of a Dead Man song on the radio, and I said it sounded like Nickleback, which led us to discuss what his connection with the band was - he produced some of their stuff I think.

Anyway, I commented that there was an 80s band that had the same producer as Bryan Adams and they sounded just like him and
DO YOU THINK I CAN THINK OF THE NAME?
DANI HELP ME OUT HERE PLEASE!

I think it starts with P?
Puh....
Puh...

So I took to the internet because I hate when I have this stuff in my head and I just can't spit it out. Every little while I can feel it there on the tip of my tongue....anyway. I went online. I surfed. I browsed. I probably have viruses on my computer now.

And I ended up watching Peter Cetera videos on YouTube.

Now I'm listening to Air Supply.

I hate myself but I just can't seem to stop. Look! Richard Marx!

A cunning plan...

2011-10-07T12:45:00.001-03:00

I've decided to rehabilite my writer-self, and I've made a plan. Want to hear about it? No? Well it's my blog, so there.

October: Write 100 words a day. Every day if possible, and catch-up words for - let's face it, it's going to happen - the days I don't make it to the keyboard.

November - Write 200 words a day. Every day if possible, and catch-up words for the days I don't make it to the keyboard.

Scintillating, isn't it? Brilliant! Well, it doesn't need to be brilliant. It just needs to make things better, and I think it will.

In other news, someone I really like has decided to self-publish her book. You can check her out at
http://jenniferhendren.blogspot.com/

Today's word count so far: 700
It's a good day.

End of day: 950 words. Wahoo!

October

2011-10-05T14:19:00.000-03:00

Hello, October. You've snuck up on me again. You're clever like that.

So, here is the fall. Summer went and winter is coming, and that is how life is. My kids are growing. They need me a bit less - and that's the tricksy part, that. They need me, yes. They love me, yes. They no longer fill every waking moment and now that they have scampered off down the hall to make a world between only them, quiet descends...

Sort of. There's the occasional squeal of bad temper from the little one, followed a moment later by her laughter. And there is the sourceless, endless percussion that comes from having a healthy, happy boy in the house.

...and in the quiet, my arms are empty, and my hands are still. Until a finger twitches, and then another.

I reach for a pen.

I'm just sayin'

2011-06-16T15:22:00.001-03:00

I hate it when I call someone and they answer their phone, only to tell me I've called at a bad time.
So don't answer, ya big jerk. That's what VOICEMAIL is for.

The telephone part II - sometimes at work, we dial a wrong number. Shocking, right? You know what I don't understand? Some people will see that our number came up, and CALL US BACK to find out what we wanted. Sorry, wrong number. I'm not inviting you for supper and you didn't win anything. And then one day a lady called us back and before my co-worker could even explain it was a wrong number, the woman was all vicious and DON'T YOU EVER CALL THIS NUMBER AGAIN! And she hung up. I mean, wow. Really?

I love it when I pass a home selling blueberries on a table at the end of their driveway.
No one is there, just a sign saying how much, and a Becel container for you to put your money in. This is where I live. This stuff fills my heart. Not that other stuff.

I hate it when I'm trying to merge onto the highway and the drivers in the lane I need won't move the hell over into the - empty - passing lane. (Seriously, are they afraid to change lanes? Is that too risky? Or are they just clueless and inconsiderate?) So you have to slow down and wait for them to pass, which is just not what an On Ramp is for - a way for drivers to reach highway speed in order to merge with highway traffic safely. You know this. I know this. So who taught these people to drive?

And Part 2 of this - when I'm on the highway already and someone is merging with highway traffic, I move into the passing lane (if I can.) Then I see the vehicle still in the merge lane driving merrily along at 20 km/h under the speed limit until the END of the merge lane, at which point they follow the little white line right onto the highway without so much as a shoulder-check. Luckily for that guy, I'm the sort who MOVES THE HECK OVER, so we're both still healthy.

Ahem.

Highway part III - I love it when the median is filled with lupins, it's like driving to work through a giant flower garden that nobody has to maintain. Gorgeous. Then, you see some well-meaning innocent who has parked his car and is picking them. You laugh, because BUGS live in them there purdy flowers. LOTS of bugs, but they don't come out until the flowers are unattended in a vase on the kitchen table. All the other drivers are going by thinking MWAH-HA-HA, you sorry fool.

/rant
:o)

A storm

2011-06-02T13:34:00.000-03:00

"Mom?"

Midnight, a thunderstorm. I stood in the hall, watching the clouds explode in the night through the window over the front door. The sky was continuously alight, and yet it was eerily silent. No thunder. And with no electricity, even the house was quiet - there was no hum of fridge or gurgle of fishtank, and this is when Pebbles called out to me.

"Yes, Boo?" The room, of course, was pitch, except for the outline of the window around the shade, which flickered and burst with light.

"If there are no colors, what color is that?"

"Black." I held out my arms and she climbed into them, sweaty and sleepy and mine. I took her back to the window. We watched the storm together, she and I and my husband, who circled the upper floor restlessly, eyeing the towering Jack spruce and pine trees around our home.

The storm moved on and the thunder came, crashing and booming and shaking the house. We checked on her brother - who was snoring - and she smiled. All her life he has been there. He is her best friend, her worst enemy, and the yardstick by which she measures herself. He does things without her - school, sports, sleepovers - but seldom does she have experiences that he does not. I watched her take this one and tuck it away for sharing the morning. In our bedroom I opened the drapes and we climbed into the big bed, where we cuddled watched the lightning until our eyes wouldn't stay open any more.

So I'm sleepy today, and I wouldn't change a single thing.

Silly Fairy Fun

2011-05-31T15:47:00.000-03:00

What's your fairy name?

My fairy name is Nettle Iceshimmer
She protects the vulnerable and brings justice to the wronged.
She lives in brambles and blackberry bushes.
She is only seen when the first flowers begin to blossom.
She wears purple and green like berries and leaves and has icy blue butterfly wings.
Get your own fairy name from The Fairy Name Generator!

So there goes 3 minutes of your life, and you'll never get it back.
You're welcome.
Now go write something!

No outline, no problem!

2011-05-30T16:53:00.001-03:00

As far as I can recall, I started writing A HAND TO HOLD - my ghost story - three years ago. Its present length is 56K, and yes, sections of that have been rewritten, and rewritten again, and chunks have been hacked off and jettisoned. They totally deserved it, in all cases. AHTH was carefully plotted, index-carded, and planned, and I am finding the last third of it just hell to write. I know what I need but the words just won't come.

I cannot rack up experience and hone my craft like that.

Enter my more recent project. It's now called Rundiamair, which all good Googlers can find out is Gaelic for mystery, or hidden. (If anyone knows how to actually SAY that word, please fill me in.) With this one, I am writing just for exercise. Just for joy. And I have written over 10K in the last three weeks. Just about 20% of the word count for the last three years, in THREE DAMN WEEKS. Can I tell you how good that feels? And the thing is, I don't really know what's coming except for the next short bit - which leaves plenty of room for a Swamp Monster to attack in Chapter Three, a Certain Someone who is not who he claims to be (but who is he, you ask? I DON'T KNOW! Isn't that awesome?) a fairy changeling, and a near-death by poisoning.

So yes, I'm having fun. :o) I'll have to remember this, the next time I'm stuck on project.

What I'm curious to learn is whether the actual outline, the beforehand plotting of a story, really kills it for me. Why would that be, I wonder? How does that work? My brain is having zero trouble developing subplots, characters, and story arcs - at least on this end of the story. It's true I'm writing my usual "lite" first draft, which means I will go back later to flesh out my descriptions, add explanations for things I might not know just yet, plant foreshadowing and other plot devices. But still. The story comes as fast as I can type, and with the exception of a major plotting decision I need to sort out, it's effortless.

All of this makes me think a lot of writing happens in areas of my brain where I'm not actually allowed to go, as if there are NO TRESPASSING signs in areas where I'm likely to screw stuff up if I start interfering. Heartbeat, breathing, blinking, and yeah, maybe writing. You know, the really critical stuff. I'm going to look into this some more this week. There are a lot of people who can't write to an outline, are you one of them?

Something lost is always found...

2011-05-17T14:30:00.000-03:00

...it may not look the same.

This is my favourite song lyric right now. It comes a Hayley Sales song - the title track on her new album - When the Bird Became a Book. There is no YouTube video for it, but you should go listen. It's a cheerful ditty about perspective and I listen to it about fourteen times a day right now, because it is still effing raining.

Anyway. Something lost is always found, it may not look the same. But some things have to change.
Quite apart from what this means to me as a mother, it also has meaning to me as a writer.

I mentioned that I started writing YA Fantasy all of a sudden, and it was a lot of fun because you get to do whatever the heck it is you want to do. And then I thought, well Cindy, you know your OTHER stories are fiction too, such as the ghost story you are trying to avoid. And then I wondered why on earth I should feel imaginitively restricted writing paranormal fiction. That makes no sense (even for me.)

So what was lost has now been found. For all the staring I have done at my screen, the gnashing of teeth and organizing of index cards, it slipped my mind that I am actually in charge of this story. If I'm bored, likely the reader will as well. What's even more important: I want the kind of writing life that pushes me creatively. Not just in terms of discipline and arse-glue and word count, outline, POV. I need it to be fun.

So, my lost has been found. Chances are I'll still labour over the development of my MCs relationships, and I'll have to figure out what happened to that sister-in-law who hasn't shown up anywhere since the second scene. I think, though, that I have gained some insight as to why my ghost has been standing there with her arms crossed all this time. Girlfriend is bored.

Spring Cleaning

2011-05-10T12:30:00.000-03:00

Dust motes drifting in a shaft of sunlight made me sneeze, and I swiped a grimy wrist over my forehead and scowled. Spring cleaning always makes me wonder how I ever let things go so far awry - an uncomfortable parallel for my life in general. It was then I spotted it, on a high shelf at the back, under a silk paisley scarf: a battered wooden jewelry box. I lifted it down reverently, remembering with a rush of longing and affection what I'd put inside. It was so long ago. I lifted the lid carefully, slowly, and there it was, just as I'd left it. My blog.

:o)
Sorry.

So, how have you been??? We're pretty soggy; it's been raining about a month now and there's more coming, from what I hear. But someone told me we're expecting a warm, dry summer, so I should be able to get the mildew out from between my toes by the first of July. I would so love a warm sunny day.

Writing-wise, A HAND TO HOLD is in the final stages of the first draft. It's about 57K right now, with big sections still to be imagined. I haven't quite connected with my antagonist yet. She won't look me in the eye. She's elusive. Demanding. Unreasonable. Dangerous. So you can see why I've been leaving her alone. She'll come to me when it's time, I think. And if she doesn't, there's always the delete key. There are lots of bad little ghosts out there who would love to be in my story, after all.

In the meantime, I decided to play with an idea that I've had for a while now, up on that same shelf I told you about. It's different for me. It's YA. It's fantasy. That makes me a little nervous, since I don't read fantasy. It might never be anything - no, that's not quite true. It is, even now, good exercise. This story lets my imagination out to play, like a puppy in the backyard of my brain. And I really need that right now.

I wonder if that is why so many people write fantasy. (Is that even true, stats-wise? I am scientifically uncertain of my remark. Forgive me, I'm an artsy type.) Anyway, there are really very few restrictions for settings, characters, or crazy shiz that can happen. It's very fun.

Speaking of fun, I must go and reconcile my bank statement. Ha. Good times.

February

2011-02-08T10:30:00.000-04:00

It's snowing in Nova Scotia today, again. I don't mind it at all, I'd really rather have snow than rain. And it does lend a hand with a few aspects of writing for me. One, the customers are probably going to stay home, so there will be fewer interruptions. Two, I've got a few dark scenes to write, and this weather puts me in the perfect frame of mind for that.

The biggest challenge lately has been keeping my ass in my chair, but I have to say that getting near the 60K mark has given me some momentum. I'm really getting close! Mind, this is my first draft, but even so, I'm looking forward to seeing the thing as a whole. Then I'll be able to get down to revising!

So keep your writer butts in your writer chairs, and have a great day - snow or no.

ROW80

2011-01-06T10:06:00.000-04:00

The ROW80 challenge is 4 days old, and I have already stumbled. I missed 2 days.

It has to do with some personal things - the loss of a family pet, my company's year end (which is an awful lot of work!) and a health issue with one of the littles. Not laziness. At least, not completely.

So I'll make it up, it's not so bad.

I also realize that I'm not properly registered for this challenge, and I will look into addressing that as soon as I can.

A Round of Words in 80 Days

2010-12-30T17:23:00.000-04:00

Hello internet!

I just tried to come here and I failed. I got the name wrong. The name OF MY OWN BLOG. What do you think it means?

I'm here today because I've joined aa very cool writing challenge started by a writer friend named Kait Nolan. It's called A Round of Words in 80 Days. Basically, one states a clear and measurable daily or weekly goal, and the challenge to meet that goal runs 80 days. I have a novel half written, and I've been noticing lately that it does not finish itself.

So my goal, clearly stated, is this:
I will commit half an hour every single day to writing. Less specifically, I plan to have my first draft finished by the end of the challenge, since I need less than 30K words.

In pursuit of checkmarks

2010-03-29T12:49:00.000-03:00

I have not been blogging, have I?

I've been doing a new thing. Every morning I make a list - in pen, in a journal - of things I need to do. Every item gets a priority A, B, or C. I start with the As, and when I finish one thing, I consult the list, and look! Another thing.

It's amazing how this keeps me on the straight and narrow, and how much happy I get from being able to make a check mark next to something like Plan birthday party for Pebbles, or Call your mother. That said, I have not written Post chitchat on your blog, until today. Today, I actually did that.

Check.

So, I hope you are all well. I am, even if it means I'm not exactly caught up on my reading. I guess I'll have to put that in my list for another day.

Dear internet:

2010-03-16T12:45:00.000-03:00

Stop calling me, I am trying to work.

I have stuff to do, I need to focus! Just leave me alone goddammit!

They get younger every year

2010-03-15T14:45:00.000-03:00

I just had a perfectly coherent conversation about molex power splitters, P4 connectors and secondary exhaust fans with a very short customer who had his boots on the wrong feet.

He had his piggy bank under his arm. It contained $4.96.

Thank heavens that is exactly how much you need to buy an IDE ribbon cable and a 90mm fan.

Waiting

2010-03-12T16:18:00.000-04:00

It occurs to me this afternoon that I am waiting.

I do my work stuff, waiting for my work day to be over so I can go home.

I wait for the evening to be over so the kids will go to bed and I can relax and watch TV.

I wait for the TV show or movie to be over so I can go to bed.

I wait to fall asleep so I can get up and go to work.

Gawd, how depressing is THAT? I didn't even notice I was doing it, but there it is. I suspect that I'm not particularly looking forward to anything in the near future, and I'm becoming a very dreary person.

I guess early March is a good time to screw up your mojo, pull yourself together and remember to take part. Ready, set, GO!

Where is bee?

2010-03-10T11:00:00.000-04:00

Gah, the sequel

2010-03-09T11:00:00.000-04:00

Things remain tricksy this week. We had to call our lawyer about that woman who threatened me, because she's now going around saying that I threatened her. Whatever, I have witnesses. People who know me think this is very funny. I don't.

I'm now three weeks away from my projected end date for A Hand To Hold. I will have the whole thing penciled in by then, I expect. If not, it still goes in the drawer for a while. Then what?

I've been working exclusively on AHTH for over a year now. I have a few ideas for new stories to choose from, but first I'm planning to reread The Witch of Badenock. I want to apply what I've learned in the past year and a half to that story - specifically now that I've assassinated my inner critic and replaced her with a cheering squad comprised of my muse, my dreams and my inner child - all on large doses of caffeine. I still love that story, and now I just might not be afraid to tell it.

Actually, I'm kind of excited.

Sunday was beautiful - sunny and plus 6. We went outside and washed the car, and soaked up some much-needed rays for vitamin D. Of course that means that now the Beloved are all sick with one thing or another, so I'm planning an early escape today. Cross your fingers for me that it works out! We're having chili with jalapeno corn bread and fresh cold milk for supper. Mmmm!

Hope you're all well and happy. Take Care.

How are things, you ask?

2010-03-02T10:17:00.002-04:00

This week has been a bit of a drain and a strain, and the writing suffered for it.

I refused to give a refund to someone - to make a long story short she simply wasn't entitled to one. She told me I didn't know how to run a business. She said I should get a degree. She said I would be very, very sorry. She told me I was mental, and childish. She called me - ready for this? - she called me a skank! And then she went outside to her car, got an empty coffee cup, and threw it at our door.

A family member is angry at me because of a decision I made. I am sad, but I am not changing my mind.

Little Boy has his first detention today. Apparently, his best friend slammed a door on his fingers, and so he punched his friend in the stomach, and knocked him into a wall where he bumped his head. It's interesting to note that the Vice Principal, on calling my husband, was audibly relieved to find that we supported her decision to punish the little Berserker, and indeed said Little Berserker is finding that there really are a lot of nasty chores that need doing around the house and yard this week. I'm grateful that his BF's mom says, never mind, they're boys, these things happen sometimes. And the BF has already pretty much forgotten the whole thing.

And unrelated to all this, I said something stupid and insensitive and I feel rotten about it.

So this morning, I said Cindy you need to write. So I got myself out of bed, and made some coffee, and laid my fingertips on the keys. That's when Pebbles woke up. She would not go back to sleep. Then Little Boy came in and spilled my whole entire cup of coffee on the carpet. That's when I taught my children an important life skill: How to say SHIT. And hell, it was going to happen sometime. Why not today?

So I'm just going to wander off and answer the voicemail now. I have two beta reads going, I hope today I'll finish my comments on one and read my way into the middle of the other. I'm going to listen to Joshua Radin, especially this one:

Family Circus

2010-02-22T09:41:00.000-04:00

My wonderful husband and I have been keeping an eye on BamBam lately - he's got that droopy, bleary, glassy-eyed look we've come to associate with a bout of something unpleasant and possibly messy. We've even cut his some slack in the Manners and Patience department.

But that's over now.

I caught him playing with his iPod at 3 effing 30 this morning. Of course, I asked him a round of questions like What the hell? and How often do you do this? and then I took the iPod away.

So, anyone want to buy a well-used iPod? (Just kidding, I wouldn't do that.)

How about a dumb-ass 8 year old boy?

Come here, and let me rock you

2010-02-16T11:50:00.004-04:00

At my uncle's wake, Mrs. Potter reached out to touch a photograph of my grandmother. I saw her do it, waiting as I was among the dim light and flower arrangements for my turn to see the collection. My mother saw it too, and we looked away from one another, swallowing against the tightening of our throats. The affection in that gesture was so plain to see, and so much like our own. That's just the kind of woman Nanny was.

We really miss her.

She forever had her hand up the back of our shirts, rubbing our backs. At the mall, she spoke to anyone nearby, and if they were cold to her she would wink at me. She liked the challenge, she said, and usually she could bring people out. She never let you leave her house without giving you some small treat, I never heard her criticize anyone, and she sang songs from the 1920s. Come here and let me rock you, she said, and we would clamber into her chair with her and lay our heads.

Won't come over to my house?

Won't you come over and play?

I've lots of nice playthings, a dolly or two,

I live in a house 'cross the lane.

I'll give you candy and nice things,
I'll put your hair in a curl,

Just say you'll come over to my house,

And be my sweet little girl.

I visited her in her apartment when she was dying. We both knew it, but we never said. I remember I'd been to the dentist and had half my face frozen. I felt awful, and she must have too. She fed me tinned chicken soup, and we took a nap - me stretched out on her sofa, she in her chair. When we woke up and it was time for me to be going, she said Come here, and let me rock you.

And I did. I was twenty-one years old. I didn't fit in that chair at all any more, so I perched my butt on the edge and I laid my head on her familiar shoulder. Looking back now, I see myself as I was then - finishing a rough time in my life, just beginning to heal, just beginning to grow up, and I am grateful for the gift of her and her unwavering, unconditional love. I'm so grateful for that last rock in her chair.

I thought of Nanny this morning as I was getting my daughter ready for preschool. Pebbles wanted to wear a dress, and she complained about the tights quite a bit but she decided to wear them anyway. She let me comb her hair and even put an elastic in it! I sat on a rubbermaid stool, thinking little thoughts, just enjoying the sight of her. How tall she's getting, even if she hasn't gained a single pound in eight or nine months. I watched her wash her own face, and I felt so blessed. I said, Come here and let me rock you.

* * *

At preschool I saw a plaque that said:

“A hundred years from now it will not matter what my bank account was,

the sort of house I lived in, or the kind of car I drove...but the world may be different

because I was important in the life of a child.” - Forest E. Witcraft

Yes, I thought to myself, that's exactly what I've been thinking.

I'm doing it!

2010-02-10T10:09:00.001-04:00

Got up a little earlier again today, and got something like 550 words before my littlest woke up and it was time to make muffins, get Sr. Stinkyfeet off the Wii, fed and ready for school. I want to say to you other writers, as the wise and wonderful Vicki Pettersson once said to me: it gets easier. You get used to it. I wish I'd listened to her then, but I think I felt very overwhelmed at that point, and it wasn't my time.

Now, though, I feel like it IS my time. The kids are bigger, I can read a book after supper if I want - crazy, innit? I can sit on the couch with a book in my hand and the children don't clamour into my lap and strangle me with their needs. They go off together to play, learn and curse each other's eyes. I feel a little lost, actually. My shares have fallen in that house, and I don't quite know how to feel about that. Sad? Free?

Both. The sad is not so much use to me, but the free I'm liking. Much better for the word count!

Anyhew. Today is quiet, sort of, and I'm toying with the idea of trying to slip into POV and getting a new scene on to the back burner. I really OUGHT to change the website around, though. It's hopelessly outdated, and I've very tired of explaining that to people. I SHOULD to reconcile my Visa. The inner battle of good versus...better. I let you know how it comes out...

Too true...

2010-02-09T14:49:00.000-04:00

A customer just said this fabulous thing to me:

"I've got Windows problems, which is a lot like having Women's problems. It covers just about everything, and nobody wants to talk to me about it!"

Books, Snow, and a Good Life

2010-02-09T11:16:00.000-04:00

On Saturday after work, the Beloved and I went to Chapters to use the gift certificates we've been saving up from Christmas and birthdays. What fun! I picked up Vicki Pettersson's 4th, City of Souls, Rachel Vincent's 4th in the Shifter series, Prey (which is not in yet, actually) and a hardcover by Sarah Waters called The Little Stranger. The kids got some books too of course, including Phoebe Gilman's Something From Nothing, which I adore.

Sunday was then spent in our warm yellow living room amongst tilty stacks of fresh books, playing and reading while tufts of fluffy snow drifted past the windows. We ate bacon, drank hot chocolate, and it was a Good Day.

I wrote a little - have been writing a little - every day on an as-can basis. A few hundred words here and there. My focus right now is...to not focus so much. To just let the story fall out through my fingertips onto the screen, gently, quietly, and without waking the internal editor. (She's such a bitch, I don't know why we can't fire her. But management says we'll need her during rewrites. *sigh*)

Just...Tuesday.

2010-02-02T10:39:00.000-04:00

Today I got up early again to write, and managed 700 words or so in that one precious hour before the rat race begins. I'm still marveling at how that small effort to fit myself into my own life changes the way I feel.

I'm thoughtful today. The music is off and the customers are (so far) leaving me alone. I'm enjoying the feeling, because it's rarely this peaceful here and I have many things I can get done today. And I might even bail out early, go home and make supper for the Beloved.

I have a favour to ask, though, before I get to work. I'm brainstorming ghostly manifestations, and I want these scenes to be really chilling and spooky. Does anyone have a ghost story to share? You can email me if it's private.

Pleasure Centres and the Fine Art of Wasting Time

2010-01-28T10:33:00.001-04:00

Yesterday I got up early to write. I've made a deal with myself that if I'm up by 6, I can have cream in my coffee instead of milk. That's been doing the trick, but I've noticed something else.

I felt great. I felt like my life was great. I felt happy, and capable. I felt like I do when I get off the elliptical trainer - a little high. Endorphins, baby.

And that got me thinking about the brain and pleasure centers, and the ways we push that button to get the little dose of happy, just like a rat in a little maze. All day, I noticed the things I was doing to press that Happy Button, and I solved a mystery. I really want to share it with you.

Every day I clear the cache in my internet browser, irritated at the sheer number of websites I've been to. Many of them are not work-related (you know who you are!) and therefore I know they are detracting from my productivity, which is ultimately contributing to the level of stress I feel. I don't just mean the few minutes I take for my lunch, it's more than that. So why am I drawn back to them? Why do I feel such a need to connect with friends and other writers, even to the point of checking the same blog more than once a day? Why do I have that stupid habit?

Because it's a Happy Button! Because I'm here at my desk, probably annoyed, or bored, or worried. I want to feel better. I want a fix. I want to press my Happy Button - so I click a link. Just one. And one more. (I can stop any time I want to!)

And before I know it, I've wasted maybe ten minutes. Maybe more. And I do this any number of times during the day. And I know I was not as effective, efficient, and productive as I could have been, and I end up feeling unhappy about that.

So I eat chocolate. Another Happy Button! Yay! Like the little rat in the lab, I go for these artificial doses of "It's all right" and "Life is good." And now that I see it I feel so stupid. It seems so obvious now. Am I the only one here? Do you have these things too?

Today, I woke *before* the alarm went off at 6. My coffee was made, my computer was on, and I was clacketing away at new words (850!) before the kids were up and we all had to get ready. I am happy, and I think I'm on to something here - a more authentic happy. A more productive, effective happy. And if writing can give me that, I'm in!

Knowing this, I'm most of the way to beating it. I'm not pretending I won't browse my favourite hangouts while I'm eating lunch, but I won't mistake artificial amusements for real occasions to feel good. Recognizing what I'm doing when I'm lost and rattling around, I'm ready to change that. It's a simple formula, after all. Productivity -> Accomplishment -> Happiness.

So keep an eye on your happy buttons too. They're sneaky!

More fun with customers

2010-01-25T13:00:00.000-04:00

On Saturday Blonde Co-worker, my sister and I were quietly plugging away at our various duties here at work: filing, researching, cleaning, labelling - that sort of chilly January Saturday stuff. The phone rang, and my co-worker answered it. The following conversation is verbatim. Really, I swear.

"Good Afternoon, Itsy Bitsy Computers."
"Hello? I can't find your door."
"We're at XYZ...oh, are you in the parking lot?"
"Yes, I can't find the door."
"Straight ahead. Just walk straight ahead. See me in the window? I'm waving at you...."

My sister and I are looking now too, out the large retail window at the front of the store. There is a neon sign that reads OPEN, and it's right next to, you know, the door.

The woman is standing in a parking spot just about 12 feet from said door, cell phone to her ear. "I just don't see..."
"Look up."
I swear, she looked up. At the sky.
"Never mind," said my darling employee. "I'm coming to get you." She stepped forward five paces, and opened the door.
"Oh!" says the woman.

You know what else? She was here on Tuesday. As in, four days previous.

Poor thing, now that's a bad day.

It's that 5%...

2010-01-22T13:53:00.001-04:00

I've heard it said that it will be 5% of your clientele that takes up 95% of your time and energy, and after 15 years running a computer shop, I can tell youthat's true.

We have a wide customer base, a lot of customers have been coming here for years and have long since quit nickling and diming and shopping around. They know that my prices aren't usually the lowest but they are reasonable, and the quality of our work and our customer service makes up for it. These people come, we do the work, they pay, they go. These people are not in the 5%.

Yesterday, I got a call.

"Hi, Cindy? It's Eddie, remember me?"
"Um..."
"Eddie Benedict." (Not his real name, obviously)
"I know the name....?" I have already, by this time, looked for him in my Quickbooks customer list, which dates to 2004. I do know his name, but he is not there. So he hasn't been in for more than 5 years.
"Yeah, well, I used to buy, like, everything there."
"Right. So, can I help you?"
"I need a 160 Gb IDE laptop drive.
"Those are in stock at $89.00."
"$89? Really? Another place has them for $77.00."
"Mmmhmm?" Meaning: So? Go there, if it matters to you.
"Oh, well. Is there any charge to install it?"
"Yes, the technician will probably just ask for a $15.00 service fee."
(Laughs) "$15.00 for a few minutes' work. That's pretty good pay!"

I'm silent, because I really don't need this. I have other things to do, I just want him to go away now. We do say thank you, goodbye, but then HE SHOWS UP IN MY STORE.

Blonde co-worker meets him at the counter. "Hello, may I help you?"
"Cindy knows what I want."
"Sorry, Cindy is busy with paperwork right now. What do you need?"
I am busy with paperwork, a tax remittance that is nearly a week late. It is not done because I keep getting interrupted. He grudgingly tells her what he wants, and asks if the technician will install it, and is there a fee for that?

Now, I'm listening.

Co-worker says yes, there's a $15 service charge. Eddie asks to talk to me. We begin with polite greetings, and then he says, "Cindy, I don't understand why there's this charge. I used to have things like this done here all the time. You didn't charge me then. It's a very small job to do."
"And it's a very small fee to ask."
He looks blank, so I decide to take a minute and help him understand where I'm coming from.
"Eddie, the industry has changed a lot. You might have noticed there aren't so many stores any more? Costs are up, and the profit margins are down, so we need to charge these fees now if we're going to continue to be here."
"Well," he says, "that has nothing to do with me."
Wow. Nice.
He's upset now, because he really expected me to give in. "Well, you've lost me. You lost me when you started to insult me."
I looked at co-worker, and she shrugged. "I don't remember saying anything insulting."
"Well, I could have gone somewhere else, but I came here out of loyalty to you."
WTF?
"Eddie, we haven't seen you in quite a few years."
Huff, bluster. "Well no, but I've been recommending you."
"Well, thanks." Does he recommend me because I do good work, or because I do FREE work? Let's watch and see....
"Well, that's done then. I don't know what to say to you, Cindy."
"I don't know what to say to you either, Eddie."
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye."

And that, unfortunately, is the attitude of a lot of people in business these days. There is little or no emphasis on loyalty or good working relationships with customers - UNLESS the customer wants to try and use it as a lever to get better prices or free service. THEN, we find ourselves talking about loyalty.

DH and I discussed it at supper. It's sad to say, when we built our business on service and antiquated notions like the Good Faith principle. The fact is, return customer or no, these days we have to make sure we're getting paid for the job at hand, because even the repeat people often show up with a Dell they bought at Future Shop. The notion of loyalty exists, but it is not a working system any more.

More thoughts on balance

2010-01-21T11:09:00.001-04:00

I left the preschool this morning thinking Uncharitable Thoughts. I try not to do that, but sometimes there they are. I try to remember that I am so very blessed, but sometimes I know that and I don't care. Just for a minute.

It's those women. I see them all the time. They know each other, and so they've dropped off their kids and they're standing in the parking lot talking about going to the movies or having lunch, and as I walk past them they smile politely and I smile politely and I hate them. Just a little. Just for a minute.

And you know, it's not because they go to the movies, or out for lunch. I don't care about those things. It's because they have time to stand around and talk, and they can plan their own day to include the things they want to do. It's a kind of freedom.

So I'm driving down my street trying not to put my car in the ditch while I'm hooking up my phone to the thingy, and I'm stewing because I want that. That time. That freedom. And if I had that I would do such important things. I would tickle my children. I would smell their necks in that secret place where they still smell like babies. I would write my story. I would bake cinnamon buns and promise to use the elliptical trainer tomorrow.

But poor me, I work. I'm a grown up and I have to help pay the bills.

And that's why most of the time I don't mind. Most days I can remember why I do this and why it's not so bad. I have a world class husband who works day and night to make my life so good. I'm not a single parent working two jobs with nobody to help me. I am not kidding when I say I have it good. So it takes me by surprise when I feel this surge of resentment, when suddenly I'm ten years old and I want to know why I can't have the same thing those women have.

Sometimes I write these posts and I erase them, because I come to a point when I see so clearly how trifling and self-pitying and ungrateful it all is. Today, I won't erase it.

Today, I think I'll have a look at those feelings and be reminded that I have to be vigilant. It's easy to let life go by, swept along by the needs of your family and your job. It's important to fill all these roles in your life until they overflow with all the joy and goodness that you can bring. But it's also important to follow your dreams, even when it means setting a boundary or two of your own. Those feelings aren't for nothing. They're telling me to keep trying.

It's Be A Jerk Day!

2010-01-19T13:57:00.000-04:00

Apparently, it's Be A Jerk Day. I had no idea, or I would have been all over this thing.

Like when Buddy emailed to say that the RAM he bought from me a year ago is not compatible with his mainboard, and I should have known that and I am the cause of all his troubles in the whole wide world ever since? I would have pointed out in plainer language that first, I didn't sell him the computer, second, I've never seen the computer, and third, that's bullshit.

And when that other guy left me three messages about needing a laptop hard drive, and I had to listen to them ALL, and then he made a point of saying to me that he could get it cheaper elsewhere, I would have said "Thank you, Mr. Unnecessarily Rude, you do that." (Because that is what I sound like when I'm being a jerk. I'm Canadian.)

And when the new girl at the convenience store charged me $2.00 for the stale muffin, I would have told her to keep it and walked out of the store instead of being Nice and just paying the money and eating the damn muffin.

I would wear a shirt that said "DO I LOOK LIKE FREAKING GOOGLE? DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH!"

And when that little man took a whole hour picking out parts for his new computer, and I really needed to pee and eat lunch, and he was telling me about how he bought a house in PEI and his wife lived in it and he commuted from a different province for three years and then when he finally retired she GOT CANCER AND DIED, I would have said, "Ahem, will that be Visa or Mastercard?"

Sigh.

Actually, I'm glad I'm not a jerk.

And the muffin wasn't so bad after I dunked it in my coffee.

Gearing up, Grinding down

2010-01-13T09:58:00.000-04:00

I find the first few minutes in my chair will often reveal the sort of day I'm about to have. If the customers are well-behaved in the first half-hour, they'll generally remain so for the day. Today is looking good, so I'm hoping to write 500 words in between my other responsibilities. My goal for the month is 5K, and that's a stretch given my habits lately.

In case you didn't hear me say it OUT LOUD, I'm finishing this draft by March 31st. So feel free to lob me a right hook if you see me slacking and making excuses for myself! (Dani, you especially. Nobody can tell folks off like you.)

I'm Back, Baby

2010-01-12T09:39:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, a dear friend sent me a picture of an angel with this message:

Be the kind of woman that when your feet hit the ground each morning, the devil says, "OH CRAP, SHE'S UP"!

I laughed, and it made me feel good. And this morning on the way in to work, I was thinking about how I feel so much more energetic this week, more capable, more effective. Of course this message came to my mind, and I thought: That's right Baby. I am an agent of good things in life. I am making it happen.

Maybe I was a little drunk on coffee, you think? Yeah, I think.

So, I hope you've found your mojo. I hope you're making it happen for yourself and the people around you. I hope you have someone who is making it happen for you. Have a great day!

Happy Freaking New Year

2010-01-08T15:57:00.003-04:00

I should be working.

Ideally, I should be working my ass off.

Actually, I am presently on the phone informing a client that when he installed his RAM he bent pins in the socket and now it's fried. But in my heart, I am not working today.

I just am not feeling this place today, I want to write. I want to read. I want to bake. I want to sit in the rocking chair with my daughter. I want to lay on the carpet and play battleship with my son. I want to have a beer and play Wii with my husband. I do not want to calculate and reconcile the actual value of my inventory. I do not want to calculate and remit the electronic handling fees from December, or the effing HST, for that matter. I don't want to prepare any of these various files for my year end.

But even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to do any of those things. It's the blessed people. Coming in. Calling. Emailing. And always with the ever loving questions.

I could take the time right now to tell you how lucky I am, how beautiful Christmas and my baby brother's wedding was, but I'm not in the mood. So go ahead and assume all that, okay? I'm going to stomp away in a snit now and that's how it's going to be.

So there.

Meet Pebbles

2009-12-07T09:48:00.003-04:00

Ah, little girls. Aren't they precious? I love the duality of them - dressed in pink, wearing a tiara, and ready to kick some Almighty Ass. I was surprised by the ferocity of my daughter, coming as she did after her big-hearted, gentle brother.

A short illustration of Pebbles at two: (she was always an Old Soul)
There is an altercation in BamBam's room. There are raised voices, then an extended, squalling screech and the sound of a door slamming. Pebbles' footsteps approach, to where I am peeling potatoes in the kitchen.
"BamBam won't share his Lego."
"Oh really? Did you ask nicely and say please?"
She heaves a dramatic sigh, and turns to go back down the hall. "Fine, I'll see if that works."

At three:
"Mom, I hurt my hand."
It looks fine to me, the knuckles are maybe a little red. I gather her to me, and lovingly inquire, "What happened, Sweetie?"
"I bumped it on BamBam's face."

And later that day...
BamBam comes to me, his hand on his throat. He's been coughing, and his eyes are watering.
"Mom, Pebbles just kicked me in the throat."
"PEBBLES!"
She comes around the corner to the kitchen, eyes wide, fiddling with a stuffed bear. "What? I was just showing him the bottom of my foot."

And last night a the supper table?
"...and then we found the Ghost king's hiding spot from on the map BamBam made, and after we beat him, we fought the Monster king, and now we're going to - "
"Dance with the Snow Fairies? Sing with the Mermaid princesses?"
"What? No, we're going to fight the ZOMBIE king...until he's DEAD!"
"Oh. Wow."

Oh, the humanity!

2009-12-02T13:55:00.003-04:00

Lunch today was supposed to be tossed garden salad with pecans, white cheddar and raspberry viniagrette dressing, but I'm just not feeling all that. Instead, I am eating a freezer-burned pizza pocket, soggy on one side, and warm Crystal Lite. It's a little bit gross. I am happy. No, I have no idea what is the matter with me. I am not a person who always makes sense.

And this has me thinking about characters, and motivation. And the Laura Secord Toffee Crunch chocolate bar in my purse.

One of the things that distinguishes decent writing from really good writing, for me, is this simple thing. The ways that humanity is revealed in a character, by the simple admission that people don't always make sense. The book that most comes to mind here is the Poisonwood Bible. It's full of people I adored, and I just wanted to shake some of them. I felt so much, because I could see what they could not: their mistakes, misconceptions, flaws, blind spots.

This is a skill I would very much like to master.

But first, chocolate!

Slogging through the middle, knee deep in doubt

2009-11-27T09:26:00.004-04:00

I've been doing a fairly good job avoiding the sexy other projects, new and old, that have been trying to tempt me away from A HAND TO HOLD. I know exactly what's happening - I'm staring at the Dreaded Middle, and thinking there just might be a way around, some way I might not have to face myself just now. But I do. And I must. The only way is to keep writing.

Yesterday I scribbled out a scene that happens outside my MC's point of view, and will likely not be included anywhere as I'm using first person. In this scene, Carrie's best friend Erin spills some private information to Luke - the new lover. This leads up to the fight that ends the middle and starts us on the chain of events leading to the climax.

I've been wondering how to stage the actual confrontation between Luke and Carrie. there are events in his past that make it hard for him to trust, consequently he is very big on honesty. Carrie hasn't lied, she just hasn't told him (about the night she overdosed on sleeping pills.) This feels like a big betrayal to him, so how does he act? How does he tell her he knows? How does Luke fight?

How does Carrie react? She's never seen him angry like this, she's shocked. She's finally allowed herself to love and be intimate, and suddenly he's shoving her away with both hands. I suppose she's angry. She knows how he feels about honesty, but she doesn't feel she owed him that information. That's private, and she's stubborn. Hmmm.

So I wrote out the conversation between Erin and Luke, just thinking that if I knew myself exactly what was said, I might have some insight into how Luke would react. I also figured out a bit more about where Erin's coming from. I'm pleased with it.

So today, odds are work will be busy. In between, I'll see if I can't get into Carrie's head a little.

But first, coffee!

Sudden inspiration, or fruitless distraction?

2009-11-20T11:37:00.002-04:00

Today I am almost frantic to work on my historical novel, THE WITCH OF BADENOCK. The main character keeps talking to me, but I've had such a hard time with that story that I've almost decided not to go back. It's the history part - I'm constantly doubting myself, is this accurate? Is that accurate? I should just say to feck with that, and write the story to please me and only me, because the truth is that's where the best stories come from.

So I might plug in to her later, but first I must work, work, work! Christmas cards to sign by the hundreds. Customers calling, customers leaving voice meessages and sending emails to follow up on their voice messages. I love my work, I'm just sick of it right now. I'd rather be writing.

I have some lovely new recipes to share, one for turnip gratin you can find over at Simply Recipes, and one for Bread Pudding with rum-butterscotch sauce and raisins.

For now, there's a customer at the counter who wonders why the computer he bought four years ago was fine then, but not now. (Sigh)

Because there's really only today.

2009-11-09T09:42:00.002-04:00

Today, I will write morning pages to try to clear some of the static out of my brain. There are some family dramas that are looping through the old gray matter, and it's interfering with how much I enjoy my life. I'm a little rattled - I cannot find my center. These things shall not be tolerated!

Today I will eat a ham and swiss cheese sandwich with extra swiss. And whatever else gets in my way that looks chocolatey.

Today I will not answer any call originating from a 1-800 number. So piss off, whoever you are. I'm bloggin', heah.

Today I will remember that I am awesome - divine, even - and I expect you to remember that you are too, young lady.

Today I will remember the importance of gratitude.

Today I will reconsider the begining of the novel. I need another scene, 2-3K, to go before the graveside scene. Plus, I have not forgotten my halloween X. It's coming, promise!

Decisions slow in coming, but well made

2009-10-28T13:03:00.007-03:00

"Stephenie Meyer was a stay-at-home mother to three boys, and she wrote TWILIGHT in three months. Nobody even knew she was doing it."

My husband didn't immediately turn from the television to address my remark, but when he did, the expression in his green eyes was cautious and a tiny bit resigned. We've had this conversation before. It never goes well. Why do I always bring it up again?

It's not about Stephenie Meyer, JK Rowling or any otherbody writer who has manged to type out enough consecutive, related words to tell a story. It's not about the fact that they did it while their lives were full of other commitments. This conversation is about the fact that I. Can. Not.

My husband is the kind of person who never walks away from an unfinished job. I know this about him, and if he's in the middle of something I know he needs to give it most of his attention until it is done. Behind this man is a list of fixed things and stuff taken care of that boggles my mind. I respect him, and all the people in the world that are like him. I want him to tell me that I can do that too. I can be like that.

Except if I could - if I was - I would have finished this effing novel by now.

The conversation lead into deeper and deeper emotional waters that churned with my frustration and feelings of failure. I wanted him to reach in and pull me out, tell me what a capable and effective person I am.

But my husband - he tells me the truth. Always. And what he said sounded something like: if I want to write a book - and he does not doubt that I CAN - I will have to crack down and Actually Do It. I might even have to stop wasting time on the internet reading blogs and such.
Damn that man. He really makes me mad sometimes. Clearly he just does not understand. (S)

But he also said a few other True Things. He said that I need to remember that I am a mother - and that I have always wanted to be a mother, and the children come first with me. Since I am away from them at work full time, I spend my home-time doing crafts with them, reading to them, baking with them, and screaming my fool head off at them. I take care of people. That is who I am, and it is good.

I like that. That makes me feel better, but still, I walk around with this thing I could not accomplish. Other writer friends - the ones on the internet, of course! - have told me and told me that I need to get myself a system that works. If I'm serious about writing professionally then I need to BE professional about it. Eventually they got bored of telling me this and wandered away. I don't blame them, actually. I have been moaning about this and beating myself up about this for years and It. Stops. Now.

I am a mother first, and that is just who I am. I am a business owner, and I have to be that too. I am proud of who I am wearing both of those hats. I am a wife too, and a very lucky one (as you can see.) I want to keep that in good working order. So all of these things are right with my world, and I think I forget to remember that.

I have made a decision: I am leaving the guilt behind.

I'm not letting myself completely off the hook, though. I can't face the prospect of leaving my writer-self on some deserted island. I will continue to write, and I will continue to ask more of myself, just without the anxiety that rides high in my chest when I don't get to the page. It's just too much drama, man. It's always there, in the back of my mind. And I am not a failure.

Let's face it: I am not finishing this novel this year. It's just not on. But I will build a better writing habit. I've decided that I will write something every day. No word minimums for now, just something - whether it's morning pages or a journal entry or a scene for the novel. I'm not giving up. I just want writing to be a joy and an outlet in my life, and eventually - some day - a success to add to these other important things I'm working so hard at.

A post, in honor of...what was I saying?

2009-10-23T10:50:00.006-03:00

Every once in a while, I have a day through which I am forced to wander wide-eyed without the benefit of any attention span at all. Goldfish Day, I call it, and it's roughly oh, say, every 28 days. Today is that day. Blink. Blink.

In honor of Goldfish Day, some nonsense and trivia.

What do you get when you cross PMS with GPS?
A crazy b*tch who WILL FIND YOU.

25% of Canadians do not consume fruits or vegetables on a daily basis. According to a study cited by CBC, anyway. 40% - no milk or milk products. What are people DOING to themselves? And where is the chip dip?

New music loves - I highly recommend you check out Missy Higgins, Eric Hutchinson, and Tristan Prettyman. Hey look, my grapes have seeds today! Life is full of surprises.

I need to write my punishment scene for M:A today. I think I have it planned out, and if the customers would just let me RELAX already, I'd type it out.

Try this. Get some Sherrif cooked banana pudding, and prepare it according to the package directions. Pour it into oven-safe bowls, timing it so it's setting for about 45 minutes before dessert. Then you mix 1/4 cup of brown sugar with 1 tsp cinnamon. When it's time for dessert, top the bowls with a hefty sprinkly of the cinnamon sugar, and 5-6 slices of sliced banana. Pop them under the broiler until the sugar melts and bubbles a bit. You're welcome! (And that's fruit AND DAIRY, Canadians. Scientific fact.)

So, I'm going to have to answer these voicemail messages, and I'm thinking maybe it's best if I get back to people before they get angry. It's much harder to focus on what they're saying when they're yelling at me.

In which summer is over, and the time to blog is nigh

2009-09-23T16:38:00.004-03:00

Has it really been over a month since I blogged? Really?

The truth is, I actually blog in my head all the time. I plan what I'm going to say about whatever shiz is going on at the moment, and I just skip the unnecessary step of posting it to the intenet. because, you know, same difference. (This is how I can tell when I'm not writing enough, I start describing everything in my head.)

But for those of you who are actually following along - or are trying to - I see you and I loves you. Here is a quickie version of my life lately.

We took an end-of-summer camping trip with my parents and it was all sorts of wonderful. Sunny like crazy. We went to the beach, we watched the kids, we swam in the ocean, we drank beer. We ate a lot. We sat around the campfire on warm, starry nights. We might have had more beer. We did not drink a lot of water. That's how we ended up meeting those nice firemen the day we went to Sandspit and I wasn't feeling so good. No, really, not good. First my thumbs curled toward my baby fingers, then my hands curled toward my elbows, and my arms curled toward my chest. I couldn't keep them still. Close sounds were far, far things seemed close. My husband was talking, saying something unimportant like "What is the matter with you?" and "Ok, we need some help now." My legs were numb. I couldn't form thoughts into words, and I didn't really care. I was just too busy being sick.

So that's what dehydration feels like. Hunh. Water, anyone?

And then we worked a little more, and then we went to my parents' cottage. We made up nicknames for each other, like Leggy McTallsky (my sister), Jealous McShorty (me), Wacky McLoonybin (mom, who else?) Grumpy McKnow-it-all Jr and Sr (my husband and my father, peas in a pod) Noisy McStinkyfeet (my son) and Temper McScreechyson (my daughter.) We ate birthday cake, we walked beside the ocean. We flew a kite. Dad and Hubby installed a new washer and dryer. Hey, whatever floats your boat.

Now, it's workworkwork, and Mercury is in retrograde again. Go ahead, laugh. Forgive me if I don't join in; I've been hung up on, threatened, and told off more in the past two days than I thought was possible. People are out of their minds. And no, I don't believe in astrology, but this thing works. We'll have a stretch of crazy people, bizarre situations, and someone will say, is Mercury in retrograde again? And it is. It works.

So I called my husband, and I asked him to meet me at Costco after work. Bulk therapy coming right up.

I have been so out of touch...I miss people!

Bizarro Thursday

2009-07-31T10:03:00.005-03:00

Yesterday was a write-off. I managed to keep a smile on it most of the time, even when the one guy asked me if I've been saved by Jesus.

Today I feel good, even though I was up late again. New Moon. And the shower tap exploded at around midnight, woke up the littlest. It actually could have been the shockwave of my dear husband's frustration that woke her - nearly silent but felt all through the house nonetheless. It raises the hair on the back of your arms, your skin goes cold and then warm again, it messes up your hair, and you tiptoe away laughing and hoping he won't notice.

Anyway, what was I saying? Oh, right. I hereby declare that today I WILL BE EFFECTIVE. I will harness the full force of the almighty caffeine buzz. I will eschew all forms of distraction.

Like this blog. And yours too.
See ya!

Gang Agley

2009-07-30T09:50:00.002-03:00

Sometimes, when a day starts out gang agley, it wants to keep going in that direction.

And I thought today might be like that, because I was late getting to bed. Or rather, I was late getting to sleep. You mothers know the difference. There's the midnight call from the littlest - the one with such a knack for knowing when Mummy has just drifted off. And then, while I was getting her settled, I just had to listen to her talking in her sleep, and laugh quietly to myself because she really never stops arguing, even in her dreams. And then I noticed how much she's grown, and I was watching the splay of her little limbs in the lamplight, and reaching out to touch her from time to time when I just needed to.

And then I was reading New Moon, and it isn't the least bit boring.

Then I remembered that Biggest pulled out a tooth just before bed, and brought it to me on a bloody tissue, a new hole in his grin. (When am I going to get used to the way he changes?) So I found some money, and crept up into his bed. It was a quest, let me tell you. The boy has seven pillows, Pokemon cards and Bakugan toys, four books and two long legs tangled in a Hot Wheels comforter for me to get around, just to fetch an itsy bitsy tooth from the farthest corner of his kingdom. (We wants it, we needs it. Must have the precious.) Note to self: tell him the tooth fairy likes the tooth left at the top right corner of the bed, next time.

So it was something like 2am before I got to sleep, so I arrived at work five minutes before the store opened.

There was a car parked in my spot, and the owner of it had one foot propped on my window ledge. He was staring through the darkened Window, and I called him a very rude name (under my breath) as I pulled in beside him. Seriously, man. The sign says we open at 9:30. The door is locked, the lights are off. Back off.

He's a courier, and I'm grateful for that because it means I can just sign his paper and take my box and then he'll move his car out of my spot and I can open the store on time. Right? No. Turns out, he's also an A+ certified Computer Technician from Fancy College in Who Cares. And he'd love to work with us? Maybe even just on weekends? For free? No?

My first customer wanted to know why one of the processors on my website has the letters NA beside it. I told him it was because it's on allocation, and my vendors have (temporarily) stopped providing pricing on it because they have no stock. He assured me that there were other stores in town who have it, for $169. I told him that was lovely news.

Sometimes, this shitty stuff just sinks through your skin and colours your outlook for the whole day. And when you're dealing with the public, I find you usually get what you expect. If you approach a person expecting they're going to be a pain in your ass, that's how you will perceive them. I know this. I take a lot of deep breaths.

And when I am standing in front of someone who does not value my expertise or appreciate the time I am taking, when I can feel anger rising, I focus my inner eye on my littlest's sleeping face. I think about talking with my biggest, quite a while after he was supposed to be in bed. I remember that this is not my life. They - and the man who gave them to me - are my life.

And I have it pretty damned good.

Vacation!

2009-07-17T12:01:00.004-03:00

We spent a wonderful 5 days camping in PEI with the kids. It was sunny almost every day - much better than the two rainy long weekends we spent there last year! We went to the beach, we went to the playground, we made our own sundaes, we burned the crap out of two bags of marshmallows, we looked at the stars, we played shuffleboard and we played basketball and we answered not one single phone call.

I tried to read at the beach, but I couldn't stop watching the kids - their healthy little bodies sunwashed and sandy and busy, with nothing but blue sky and ocean as a backdrop. Jellyfish and crabs. Sandcastles and plastic shovels.

Each has their own way of meeting new friends - BamBam just goes over to the other kids and starts talking. That works. Pebbles prefers to play with older girls. It's funny, physically she's the same size as the toddlers, but she knows she can't really play with them, she's three and they can't communicate at her level. She's more comfortable with kids BamBam's age, so she just goes over to them and stands there until they notice her, and then she gives them a big smile and they immediately adopt her.

There was a country music festival in Cavendish with Tim McGraw and Big & Rich, we didn't do that. Camping neighbours on both sides of us did, though. The kids on the left were decent, but they did keep us up late. I had my revenge on the wee buggers - I got up at eight o'clock and fried bacon. At'll teach 'em. The folk on the right left a huge pile of puke in the grass - nice. We were glad when they all left, and the new people were much quieter.

Anyway, I am back at work, only now with a suntan. I have Stuff I should be doing, but I don't wanna. That's irrelevant, I know. Hi ho, hi ho.

Best Laid Plans

2009-06-25T11:24:00.002-03:00

Today, supposing I get time, I'm going to have a look at my subplots. I might even try making a line graphy-thing, with colours and notes and arrows. Thing is, that really doesn't sound like it's any more organized than the yarn-snaggle that's in my head. There's a notebook somewhere I have a list of scenes I've written, more or less in order. That'll help.

I did my morning pages today in between fending off an ant attack - those little buggers are everywhere. At least the kids aren't collecting them in jars any more. Pebbles was mad at BamBam and decided to get revenge by letting all his out - in his bedroom - and of course he reciprocated. So, that happened.

Why did we let the kids collect household vermin in jars? Because they were quiet for half an hour while they did it, that's why.

Off to organize keyboards and vacuum the floor. Happy Thursday!

Writer Wheaties

2009-06-24T11:42:00.004-03:00

Last week I set 2 goals - get up early to write and write 500 words on Friday. I didn't do either one of these things.

One thing I did do was begin reading The Artist's Way. This morning I started my day with morning pages, and while I'm not new to the idea of needing to get to the page early in the day, I did find this a help in making sure that my writer-self gets her wheaties. She has been chattering nonstop in the back of my head ever since and I wish I hadn't given her so much coffee. She says there should be a benefit dance at the restaurant for, I dunno, someone worthy. And I wish I could tell you her other idea - it's just PERFECT - but it's a major spoiler and I may want you to read this book someday. It ties two major subplots together, and it comes right before the climax. I'm very excited about this. (woot!)

In fact, I'm going to sketch out the bones of this scene today. I don't know the location yet, but since we all know it's going to be rewritten a gazillion times anyway, I'll just do the writing now and the worrying later.

Something else I've been thinking a lot about is soundtrack. I've heard writers say they had one for their book. Do you do this? I think it's intriguing, but I need silence to write. Then the other day I realized that hey, I DO do this.

Once I listened to one song all day. Over and over. There was something in the tone, something in the lyrics that was exactly what I was trying to capture in a scene I was working on. It set the mood perfectly, and I didn't want to hear anything else. I just wanted to stay in that emotional location. So while I was doing the writing I had quiet, but in between moments when I was actually at the page, I was letting it steep in the music, letting the music infuse the language to make it come out feeling the way I wanted.

Carrie's song right now is Somewhere In Between, by Lifehouse. You know it, but here are the lyrics (more or less). In case you're bored.

I can't be
Losing sleep
over this
No I can't
And now I cannot stop pacing

Give me a few hours
I'll have this all sorted out
If my mind would just stop racing

Cause I cannot stand still
I can't be this unsturdy
This cannot be happening

This is over my head
But underneath my feet
Cause by tomorrow morning
I'll have this thing beat
And everything will be back
to the way
that it was
I wish that it was just that easy

Cause I'm waiting for tonight
Then waiting for tomorrow
I'm somewhere in between
What is real
or just a dream

Would you catch me if I fall
out of what I fell in
Dont be surprised if I collapse
down at your feet again
I don't want to run away from this
I know that I just don't need this

Cause I cannot stand still
I can't be this unsturdy
This cannot be happening
Cause I'm waiting for tonight
Then waiting for tomorrow
And I'm somewhere in between
What is real
or just a dream

Friday Morning

2009-06-19T09:52:00.003-03:00

Spent a few moments this morning going over the calendar for the next two weeks, and egads. There is at least something every day, many days have two things going on - Taekwon-Do class, Baseball practice, Preschool party, Father's Day Dinner #1, Father's Day Dinner #2, birthday party, oh, and don't forget to get ready for camping. Shee-yikes.

Pebbles had one of those mornings when she hates that I'm going to work. Her face is swollen up from reactions to bug bites, and she's miserable. She wants me to hold her, but I need to dry my hair, get dressed, put on makeup. Finally, I am done and we dance. Then she wants to play, but there is no more time. She cries. I get irritated. I am horrible.

I rush out the door - remembered my lunch today, hold the applause - but when I get in the car I remember that I have no freaking gas. DH is at the window yelling for me to wait. I shut off the car, go to meet him and get my phone, thank you. Need that. Back in the car, frazzled, frustrated, overheated and late, I turn on the music and what do I hear?

Jackson Browne. Running on Empty.

Very funny, Universe.

Filled my gas tank and figured that if I took the highway and busted up the sound barrier I just might make it on time.

And I did. And I'm thrilled to be here, let me tell ya.

So today, I'm aiming at 500 words. I just have to find the zone. But first, coffee.

2000 new words!

2009-06-15T16:26:00.002-03:00

I don't have an exact count, but this week I added roughly 2000 words to AHTH. It feels good to have my life (sort of) under control and to be creative again. The process fascinates me.

It works best for me when I write in the morning, before my head gets crowded and my thoughts start to shout at each other. I write everything I know or can put in words at that time. I might try to capture a scene, or a feeling - or something I've been struggling with lately - weaving places with conversations and action. I just suck, sometimes. Then I leave the keyboard, do some other things (empty the dishwasher, fold clothes, go to work). If I can get that writing time in the morning, my mind keeps working on that scene even while I'm busy. I will find a way to create more depth or color, or solve a problem, or fill in a blank. I jot things on paper, and it makes me happy.

Sometimes someone else will (unknowingly) fill in a blank for me. I needed a name for a ghost. A little-girl ghost. Clara? Nora? No, no, eew. Something old-fashioned, foreign, a little mystical. Then one Sunday Pebbles and I were playing with her doll.

"Miss Artinne wants her lunch now. Miss Artinne needs to go the the doctor."
"Artinne?"
"Artinne." She says it almost with a French accent, with a 't' so delicate it feels like a bubble bursting on your tongue.

So of course I used it, because it is just exactly what I wanted. And how would I have even known what she was giving me if I hadn't been tuned in, turning that problem around in the back of my mind? Life has a way of feeding the writing, if you let that happen.

There are days that just don't start out properly, you know? A client takes too long describing his woes, I lose my train of thought. I can't get very deep into POV when the phone is ringing. So here is what I will do. I will start getting up a little earlier, say three mornings a week for now, to write for half an hour before I start my day.

I also have a book called "The Artist's Way" that I will read, I know some people swear by it.

What is it with people?

2009-06-09T14:48:00.002-03:00

Well, it's been quite a week. Full moon, people are crazy. Oh, you don't believe in that stuff? Perhaps you've never worked in retail:

There was the very old man who fell asleep in the driver's seat of his minivan outside the store. We were speculating that he might actually be dead, until a fire truck went by and woke him up.

There was the girl who backed into a sandwich-board sign and tried to flee around the side of the building, only she hit the corner and scraped all along the side of her car.

There was the woman who came in raging about how she can't send email through one ISP's mail server when she's connected through a different ISP's wireless service. Cause, you know, I should be able to fix that. I'm the boss of the internet, right?

There was the woman whose father bought a computer from us SIX years ago and never had a single problem, only now she can't find his Windows disk. I shouldn't charge her to have my technician reload that system, just because she can't find her disk. She will be pursuing this. She's taking this to the next level. She's calling MICROSOFT.

And last but not least? You ready? There's the man who drives that red sportscar, who used to have such a great job? He went outside in the parking lot and PEED ON THE GROUND NEXT TO MY CAR. He's the winner. He's the only customer I ever banned from the store.

All in the last 7 days.

Let's talk goals

2009-06-09T09:53:00.004-03:00

Spent the better part of yesterday's work day (I'm self-employed - it's allowed) going through the first 30K of A HAND TO HOLD. It's been about a year since I put any serious effort in, and I needed to get a feel for where the story is. I had questions: is it as good as I thought? (Yes, in parts) Is it as bad as I thought? (Oh, definitely first draft, Baby!)

The foundation that I had wanted to lay is there. It needs pieces added, but it's workable. I need to look at the pacing, and I have things to figure out, but I know what scenes I will write next. And that is all I need.

Today I am planning some new words, and this is a Good Thing, because here we are nearly halfway through the year, and I have another 60K or so to go. This would have been the death-rattle for my goal of a completed first draft if this were last year, but the kids are bigger now, a little more self-sufficient. I can still do this. I will do this.

I am so good at this.

2009-05-26T17:17:00.004-03:00

technician: "Not to cause widespread panic, but we're reaching desperately low levels of cable ties back there."

me: "Don't worry. I wrote it on a postit. Need...cable...ties."

technician: "You are so good at this job."

In. Box.

2009-05-22T11:46:00.003-03:00

Through the two-way mirror above my desk, I watched the woman approaching the counter and indulged in an eye roll. I've seen her before. I'll probably see her again.

I tried to project professionalism and efficiency (instead of frustration and impatience) while she fumbled with the zipper on her fugly bag, and opened her laptop.

"My email comes in," she explained with an awkward laugh, "and it goes to my Inbox. Why does it keep doing that?"

Ohforgodssakeswhatthef..didsomeonegiveyouacomputerfor...

"It's an In. Box. That's what it's for." Stop. Try to understand. "Where did you want it to go?"

"Heh, heh." She shifted from one foot to the other. Her computer finished booting, she opened her mail. "My friend sent me some messages, and I didn't get them. She said to call, but I decided to come in..."

The missing mail was in her spam folder. I spent 10-15 minutes showing her how to check the messages and move them - to her inbox, of all places. She thanked me, put her laptop back in that horrible bag and she left.

She didn't even ask if I wanted any money.

I want to fix this, but I'm not sure how. I mean, sure, it's only a few minutes of my time, but this is my workplace. I'm not here to do free tutoring, and I'm really starting to resent these people who just assume of course you can just go ask Cindy, she's really nice. How now, to tell someone that I want to be paid for my time and expertise?

And it's my fault, because I didn't used to mind. I thought of it as an investment - I put in my time and effort with this customer, and when they need to buy something, they will come back.

Ha ha, suckah. No, they don't. They buy a freaking Dell, and then they STILL come asking me questions.

Assertive is hard for me, and asking for money is awkward, but I'm going to fix this.

I hired a girl...and I liked it!

2009-05-14T15:36:00.004-03:00

About a month ago I stood looking around my office at stacks of paper (peach, white and blue, some sorted, most not,) while the phone was ringing in my ears and I knew that I Absolutely Must finish four kinds of government paperwork before 3 pm. I was tired, stressed, and missing my kids, and a voice in the back of my head was whining I wanna go hoooooome. That's when something broke. I think it was my Brave. Or maybe it was my Stubborn.

Either way, I started setting up interviews and have again been blessed to find a sensible, hard working and caring girl to dig me out from under this mess. She is part-time, and she spent her first twelve hours hole-punching, alphabetizing and filing peach, white and blue papers. TWELVE HOURS OF FILING. And she stayed!

The next week she gave me unmitigated sh*t for letting a customer take advantage of me. I like her.

So, the office looks great, and with the help, I'm feeling about a hundred pounds lighter and more hopeful about the future.

Meet Zee

2009-04-09T09:50:00.004-03:00

This is Zee. We originally named him this because when we brought him home, and the kids were so anxious to play with him, all he really wanted was to sleep. Now, though, we know he is also:

Cray-Zee
Fuz-Zee
Clum-Zee (oop-Zee!)
No-Zee
Biz-Zee
and sometimes Lay-Zee.
Oh, and he bites. (Ow-Zee!)

Burning the pile

2009-04-07T10:18:00.002-03:00

When I was a little girl growing up in the country, once a year or so, it came time to Burn the Pile. I live in suburbia now, and we don't set huge fires on purpose there. But it's nice to see that things haven't changed at home.

My Ta Da list

2009-04-03T09:53:00.002-03:00

Throw out your To Do list, it's such a drag. Start something new. Start a TaDa! List. Celebrate your own effectiveness, be bold in your estimation of what you can accomplish - because You. Are. Fabulous.

Here's mine for today.

Answer the phone every time it rings
Go to the counter every time someone comes in
Receive, label and put away product (8 boxes so far. Who ordered this stuff??? Oh yeah, me)
Create and distribute e-flyer for April
Calculate real value of inventory (8 pages left, 45 lines per page)
Calculate EHF charges remittable for March
Calculate source deductions remittable for March
Calculate Worker's Comp remittable for March
Check, label and put away replacement procuct for three RMAs received two weeks ago
Find a wireless mouse in the shape of a pen that is readily available through my distribution channel
Change the ads on the mobile sign out front
Erase and update prices on the markerboards
Update prices on the website for cases, systems and video cards
Vacuum
Clean the windows
Clean the microwave
Take out the garbage
Order more product as required
Answer voicemail and email and endless questions (how do I make the "at" symbol?)
Eat
Pee (G)

At least, that's what I know about so far. And yes, it'll be a miracle if I get half of this done.

But nevermind.
I am FABULOUS.
TaDa!

Spring

2009-04-02T16:06:00.004-03:00

It's spring, and I'm in the mood for some fresh beginnings. Aren't you? And since life is mostly made of the littlest moments and small personal choices, I will start by adding some Good Things to my life, right now.

Today I'm learning the words to The Rainbow Connection, so I can sing it to Pebbles at bedtime. Just FYI, she also likes:
Carolina on My Mind, James Taylor
Something in the Way She Moves, James Taylor
You've Got a Friend, Carole King
Rocket Girl, Doc Walker
Run for the Roses, Dan Fogelberg

Also, I am going to be more conscious of the things I am grateful for. A shadow on the ground, because it means the sun is out. Thick, dark chocolate pudding. Customers who love my store. Being able to see the ocean from work and home.

I will do the things I love. I will bake something delicious on the weekend - maybe colorful thumbprint or M&M cookies with the kids. We will dunk those cookies in tall glasses of fresh, cold milk - manners be damned. And we have a birthday party for Pebbles on Sunday - she's three, or maybe thirteen. Sometimes I can't tell.

Roo

2009-02-17T14:54:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I took Roo back to the vet, and I did what I needed to do.

My heart hurts.

I'll spare you the details, and say only that in the end there were no more questions. It was Time.

I guess the heart knows after all.

We're hanging in there

2009-02-12T16:08:00.005-04:00

Today a salt fog rolled over the city and knocked out the power for three hours. And no, I didn't know that could happen either. While it was dark in here I dusted, I put some papers in alphabetical order and I checked over my cable inventory. Confirmation: it's in a sorry state.

Uncle is somewhat stable for someone whose heart has failed. He's on a pump that moves his blood for him through massive tubes sewn to his heart that pass through the front of his chest. He is heavily sedated but my Mom can still make him grin. His body looks a lot different but he's definitely in there somewhere.

Pebbles says he has a broken heart.

His first heart attack was 19 years ago, and they figured he had 5 years to live. There have been many technological advancements in this past decade - there are smaller versions of the pump that he's presently on that can be inserted right into the chest. There is a slight possibility of a transplant. We have hope.

Also hanging in there, my cat Roo. My husband says it's like caring for an infant - he feeds her many times a day, coaxing her to eat and drink, keeping her clean and carrying her to the litter. We laugh and call it Kitty Rehab. He makes her get up and walk around, and he has some medicine he's been giving her. She still wants to be close to us and she seems to be gaining weight and strength, so we hope that a few weeks more will make a big difference. I don't know what we'll do if she doesn't improve. I'm not thinking about that yet.

The sneaky bum.

2009-02-05T15:35:00.003-04:00

We're driving home in the car, Pebbles and me. It's dark, it's shitty weather (surprise!) I'm listening to the radio, and hoping that she won't fall asleep on the way.

A little voice came from the backseat: "Mom, my bum is sneaking out."

I turned down the radio. "Um. Your what?"

"My bum!"

I glance over my shoulder. She's strapped in to her five-point carseat, just like I thought she would be. "Oh, well. We can fix that when we get home."

"It's a long way, Mummy."

"Yes, that's true I guess." I turned up the radio, hoping she'd get interested in the music and forget about her little problem.

"Mummy, I need HELP!"

"Allrightallrightallright." I pulled over, went around the back of the car, skidding and slipping on the icy shoulder, went back to the driver's seat to unlock the doors, and finally managed to get where I needed to be. I tucked my hands down on either side of her little self, and sure enough, a soft warm tiny bottom. I tugged up her tights and got back in the car.

"Thank you Mummy.

"You're welcome. No more sneaky bum?"

"No more sneaky bum."

Un-depressing post, as promised

2009-02-04T16:51:00.000-04:00

The Call

2009-02-04T14:16:00.005-04:00

Found out today that a family member is in intensive care, in a coma, his heart failing. As I listened to the details, this song was playing on my computer. I thought it rather poignant, beautiful in the most painful of ways.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HUO0gd7cr9o

Enough with the dreary stuff! Happy posts coming.

thanks guys!

The next long weekend is WHEN?

2009-01-29T15:35:00.005-04:00

At some point earlier this week it occurred to me that the next time I have two days off in one week will be Easter weekend. In freaking April. This realization made my steps slow and heavy, and all my enthusiasm crept away to hide somewhere warm. I started scowling at the phone when it rang, instead of picking it up with a smile. I started leaning on my desk, face smooshed in my palm. I felt completely overwhelmed.

You have to figure this out, I told myself as I drove home through yet another snowstorm. You can't just give up and hire someone. You have a plan. You have to do this yourself. Make it work, dammit.

Susan talked the other day about things we have to keep learning in life, and I know one of mine is the importance of regular exercise. I know I always feel better when I'm active.

But I don't want to, I thought at 11:04 pm as I sat on the edge of the bed, contemplating the alarm clock. I know it will probably help, but I don't want to get up early to work out. (Yes, it was that whiny.)

And so I didn't.

But then school was cancelled, which meant I didn't have to make BamBam's lunch or be on hand to harass him through the Getting Ready process. I put my body on the elliptical trainer and said: Now. Go.

Partway through my workout, I realized that DH had awoken and was just laying there, watching my behind.

Showered and dressed, I made my way to the kitchen, to find said husband putting the finishing touches on a monster-sized salad for my lunch. And that's when it hit me.

I'm not doing this on my own. I haven't been. There's this man, who works in the rec room at night, who takes care of the house and the kids, who puts gas and windshield fluid in my car, who cooks my dinner and loves me from the most unflattering angles. And makes me a salad, because it's good for me and because I look like I might be on a health kick today.

The exercise helped, but so did the reminder that I do have him. He really is a treasure. We're doing this together, and we're going to be fine. We're going to make it work. And, he reminds me, there's nothing stopping me from closing the store on a Saturday - Just Because.

So my cat just looks like shit.

2009-01-28T12:01:00.004-04:00

The verdict is in. For the price of two week's groceries, we are assured that our cat is stubborn. I am giddy. I am so relieved, so grateful.

There is no evidence of liver, kidney or thyroid malfunction. No obvious tumors, no diabetes. No heart trouble. The vet says she's surprised how healthy Roo is, considering how she looks.

She is dehydrated and underweight. (15 lbs down to 7.8) Apparently, she hates her food and simply won't eat it. And because both cats eat from the same bowl, we didn't clue in that she was starving.

I've just got to say, this would never happen to me. (S)

Her muscles have deteriorated to the point that she is working very hard to move around, and that is why she pants so heavily. Poor old girl. We'll stock up on the extra-stinky, extra-gooey canned yuck that she seems to prefer.

Thank you for commiserating with me on this. I really thought we were losing her, and your comments were a really big comfort.

...and Roo goes to the Vet

2009-01-27T11:29:00.004-04:00

The nose knows, I thought to myself this morning as I carried Pebbles up the hall to the kitchen. We both blinked in the light, and I put the kettle on for my coffee. And so does the heart.

There it was, right by the back door. Pee, again. I cleaned it up with a rag, some bleach cleaner and a heavy heart.

Before I left the house, I kneeled beside a cardboard box tucked beneath an end table. Inside it, curled up on a green towel, my sixteen-year-old cat watched me with sunken but adoring eyes. She's lost a lot of weight just lately, her legs and paws are painfully bony, and her sides heave with the force of her purring.

"I love you, Roo."

Soon, I will have a call from my husband with The News. I'm hoping for a bladder infection. Have you ever hoped for one of those? Me, neither.

In the meantime, in that place deep in my chest where Truth lives, I think I know otherwise.

I'm afraid it may be Time.

Time for a break?

2008-12-05T12:40:00.003-04:00

Ah, the Christmas Season. Brings out the best in folk. At least, I believed that right up until I started working in retail and computer repair. So it's been busy.

Yesterday I went into the shop to heat up my lunch and review the current workload with the technician. I strolled around the room, pointing to things and ticking them off in my mind.
"So...this one's got drive controller issues...this is one of the Gray machines, almost finished? The tower in the corner is scanning, new build here and here, hard drive diags on that laptop, this one's updating. Good. But what's beeping for God's sake?"
The technician said "Uh, that would be the microwave."

A reminder

2008-11-27T10:04:00.002-04:00

Embedding is disabled, so please click.

Paper Angels, by Jimmy Wayne

Oh, hi!

2008-11-26T14:07:00.002-04:00

This might be the longest pause I've ever had between posts.

I'm working. Constantly, nonstop, and squeezing in extra time here and there. Christmas and year end are coming and I'm just really, really no-kidding-busy.

Susan blogged a bit about escaping into books, and I must say I've been lucky there. A few weeks ago I had a pile of half-read books collecting dust on my dresser:

Roots, Alex Haley
The Alexandria Link, Steve Berry
In Still and Silent Waters, Reah Tannahill
Angels and Demons, Dan Brown
The Seventh Son, Reah Tannahill
Russka, Edward Rutherfurd

I think I might even be forgetting one or two. I don't know what it was, I just couldn't settle into these books. I don't mean that they weren't any good (though one of them was kind of awful and you can probably tell which one. (G)) I was just restless and feeling a little lost. So I was reading Outlander, because that's where I go when I can't get comfortable anywhere else.

Then my fourteen-year-old sister dropped a stack of books in my lap:

A Great and Terrible Beauty, Libba Bray
Rebel Angels, Libba Bray
The Sweet Far Thing, Libba Bray
Ink Exchange, Melissa Marr
Wicked Lovely, Melissa Marr

(Yes, she's all sorts of Awesome)

And I bought myself a copy of My Lord and Spymaster.

So no more problems in that area.

Listen, if you know Claire from the Forum - or even if you don't - say a prayer for her and her new daughter Sophie. There were complications during the birth, but things are looking pretty good.

The weekend - in point form

2008-10-27T16:31:00.003-03:00

So, I didn't get to Surrey. I don't know that I ever will. And it's all right, I wouldn't have wanted to miss this weekend at home, anyway.

After work Saturday, went to the local Farmer Clem's with DH and Pebbles and bought some Honey Crisp apples (yum) and a big fat pumpkin.

Went from there to a local hobby farm, to pick up BamBam from a birthday party. The kids both had pony rides, and we spent a while hanging out in the petting pen with some baby goats, a turkey and a couple of Llamas. Also had some interesting face time with a pot-bellied pig. He was cool.

Went home, and took some pictures of the kids playing in the leaves.

Ate pork roast rubbed with garlic, rosemary and pepper, and then glazed with a honey-soya marmalade mix. Mashed potatoes with mayo and green onion, too.

Made sugar cookies with the kids - we made a helluva mess but it was worth it.

Sunday, carved the pumpkin. Played play-dough. Made cream of broccoli soup for lunch, it was really good.

1 medium onion
2T butter
2c finely chopped fresh broccoli (I had about 1" pieces)
2 1/2 cups milk
2T chicken oxo
1c shredded cheddar cheese
3-4 drops hot pepper sauce

Melt the butter in a saucepan, add onion and cook until tender. Add broccoli, stir and cook 2-3 more minutes. Add milk, OXO powder and hot sauce, stir occasionally until broccoli is tender. Add cheese, stir until melted. Serve.

Went to bed early in fresh sheets, and slept like a log.

Peel my banana - it's comportant!!!

2008-10-08T10:07:00.002-03:00

I love living with a toddler. Pebbles says the most incredible things these days, and at not quite two-and-a-half, we are suitably impressed.

Me: "Eat your spaghetties, Pebbles."
Pebbles: (long-suffering sigh) "It's spaghetti, Mom. Only one."

I guess she has my grammar thing. She also has my sweet tooth:

Pebbles: "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Me: "I don't know. What are you thinking?"
Pebbles: "I'm thinking....cookie."

Speaking of cookies, this week has been really crummy as far as customers and work goes (ok, except for the bread and honey. That was incredible.) And if anyone ever says to you that mercury is in retrograde, don't laugh. I tell you: people lose their minds, and nothing goes right for two weeks solid. I work in retail, just trust me.

I did make my wordcount goal the other day, and I've been developing the habit of writing a page or two in bed at night. It's working!

The Good, the Bad, and the Yummy

2008-10-04T10:25:00.002-03:00

And this is what happens. Make fun of some guy, and the Universe promptly smacks me on the Proverbial.

Remember Angry Customer from the last post? Well, she called me yesterday. She wanted her money back from the one hour labour she paid for our assessment of her computer (including the part where we said Duh, lady there's no freakin' fan in here) and the 8 viruses that we did, in fact remove, because we have Skills. Secret Ninja-Computer-Technician Mind Tricks, indeed. And a set of screwdrivers.

Her argument seemed to revolve around the fact that our assessment didn't jive with what the Other Guy said (yes, the one who called me - He of No Skills or Secret Ninja Tricks.) And since she didn't know which one of us to believe, someone must be Fibbing Big Time, and she didn't want to pay anybody any money until she got to the bottom of it. She would take it farther, she assured me. As in, to court.

This is Canada. To us, this qualifies as Truly Bizarre Behaviour.

So we replied that our charges were fair and honest, and being Without A Clue does not entitle one to a refund. If it did, I'd be waaay out of business. My husband had a long talk with her, during which he explained that we did the work that we were hired to do, to the greatest extent possible. We did not take her fan, (she was not accusing us of doing so) and hence we were not responsible - morally or financially - for any distress she may be experiencing. He welcomed her to find any person, anywhere, with grounds to suggest that we had ever been dishonest in our dealings.

At the end of the conversation, she said "So, I'm not getting my money back?"

Um, no. You're not.

And thankyouverymuch, Universe, for the reminder.

In other news, a week or so ago, an older lady came in and said she had all kinds of porn on her computer. (Put there by viruses, I assure you!) She was just the tiniest little bit upset and embarassed, so I leaned across the counter, touched her on the wrist and said...

"That's a very bad habit, you know."

She laughed. And yesterday when her computer was fixed, she brought me some lovely fresh bread - rustic and crunchy - from her daughter's bakery.

Today, another customer brought us some fresh honey from his very own bees. I'm thinking the two are going to be very tasty together. Aren't we lucky, to be so blessed with thoughtful, appreciative and caring customers?

This is a very funny world we live in.

Now, who makes fresh butter?

On working with boys

2008-10-02T13:30:00.003-03:00

A few weeks ago, a woman brought us a laptop for repair. In addition to a smattering of viruses, it seemed to have a heat issue, so my technician flipped it over, opened it up and found...no fan. The whole cpu/heatsink assembly was missing. Gone.

Of course the customer had no idea where the fan went. She said the thing had nevah evah been taken apart since she bought it from a store down on the South Shore last Christmas.

I had my doubts as to whether the thing could actually go that long without a fan, but I hestitated over telling her that either a) she was wrong or b) someone in the house is lying or c) both.

(Aside: The thing is pink. It's been spray-painted pink, and the guy who sold it to her is the one who painted it. Professional, hunh?)

So Angry Customer now called the original vendor to complain about lack of fan, and he offered - right then, sight unseen - to go ahead and install the $130 fan for her. (Ok, buddy, it's your money.)

So this guy called me on the phone today. Right away, he had The Tone. The "I'm about to make you look stupid" tone. He was probably aggravated by the fact that he was out a sizeable chunk of green, and looking - and feeling - kinda dumb himself.

"It says here on your invoice that you charged her for an hour's labour, which was supposed to include virus scanning and removing 8 viruses from her data?"

"Yes, that's right." wait for it.....

"Well, I'm just curious, how could you POSSIBLY scan this thing in the two minutes it takes for it to overheat and shut down?" TaDAAA!

"Well, we took the drive out of the laptop and scanned it in our shop machine. We do that to prevent the viruses loading into memory so we can clean them properly." How the heck do YOU do a virus scan?

"Oh."

This sort of pissing contest happens, because this is an industry mainly operated by boys. I can't help but feel a little smug when one of them slips in his own piddle. I know it's wrong. It's just so....fun.

Plans for today

2008-10-02T10:32:00.003-03:00

In the interest of making myself accountable, I thought I'd pop in here and think out loud for a few minutes.

There are work things that need doing today - the usual customer care - be it telephone, counter or email - plus reconciling the transac account, finishing my October Mailout and getting that gone, and following up on the last month of repairs. (Thassa lotta phone calls!) I need to find out what happened to the renewal of my Trend license, and pay some bills.

In betwixt all this most excellent computer-store-lady behaviour, I am also determined to get down a scene that has been hanging around for a few days now. It's actually a rewrite of a section that I knew was wrong, and now I know how to fix it. I've given Carrie my horsey background, and this actually will help to cement the bond between her and Luke-the sexy-veterinarian. I'd like to see seven hundred words of that today. And I need to update my word meter, too!

So, off I go. First things first, though - coffee!

A little disgruntled today

2008-09-25T12:15:00.005-03:00

I am not "spot on" today, and by this I mean I'm having trouble getting motivated to do Actual Work. This happens, and I know I shall recover and by my uber-useful self within hours. I had better, because I have a lot to do before the end of the work day - at which point I hop into the car and trundle off to BamBam's school for curriculum night and (yay!) the Book Fair.

Last night on the way to bed I opened a notebook and found a chunk of AHTH. Isn't it nice when you find yourself caught up in your own writing? I plan to post that chunk here, hopefully in the next few days.

My heart hurts, I wish I was home. I would let Pebbles cut up apples with a plastic knife, and we would bake them in a pie. I would put something in the slowcooker. I would open the windows and smell the crisp, fall air in my sunny yellow kitchen. I'd play Sorry! with BamBam after school.

But I cannot, and since I can't conjure any interest in rising freight prices or the current cost of RAM or video cards, I'm going to grab a pen and see what comes out of the end of it. There will be consequences, but hey. (shrug) Tomorrow is another day.

Oops

2008-09-23T10:14:00.003-03:00

On my answering machine:
"Hello, this is Mr. C, you've done some work on my HP in the past. Anyway, this morning when I turn the thing on it just bleeps at me. I thought I'd get in in to you this morning, please call me back. (number)"

So I called, and I got his voicemail.
"Hello, this is Cindy from Itsy Bitsy Computers. You're welcome to leave your bleeping computer with us...(snrfl)...anytime...(choke)...sorry. The number is 555...(giggle)...see you later, bye. "

It's the little things

2008-09-20T10:33:00.002-03:00

Pebbles is outgrowing her size 18 mos pants. Fair enough, I guess - she's 29 months old.

*

When I was 2, I wanted to be a princess for halloween. My parents were young and broke, and they just wanted to use stuff they had around the house, so they dressed me as a hobo. I cried. They laughed. (They also sucked, but they were 20 and 23 years old. I've forgiven them - mostly.)

Fast forward...OMG...33 years, and I have a two-year-old girl. She's precious. I want to buy her the best damned princess costume you ever did see. But noooooo. Pebbles wants to be a MONSTER. RAHR.

Monday, the washing...Tuesday, headcold

2008-09-16T10:21:00.003-03:00

Gawd, is it only Tuesday?

I'm sitting here at my desk, and I'm supposed to be checking that the petty cash has exactly $100 in it. However, there are only 2 pennies, and I need three more, and this has brought me to a full stop. I simply cannot cope with a crisis of this magnitude right now.

Periodically, I realize that my mouth is hanging open, so I close it, only to discover that I cannot breathe with my mouth closed.

The Dimetapp expired last year. Is that bad?

Must have picked up a bug from Susan.

Off to check under my car seats for pennies...

911

2008-09-11T13:59:00.005-03:00

"I think you'd better go down and turn on the TV."

I didn't like the sound of his voice, there was an unfamiliar thread in it - something was happening. Something big. Something I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"Why?" I adjusted the flannel on my shoulder, and reached for the baby. He was two weeks old, sleeping in his carseat on the coffee table. I held him a lot in those days - usually only because I felt like I was supposed to do more than just watch him sleep. In this moment, though, I held him because I needed to.

"Just...just take the phone and go."

I went.

In the darkness of the rec room, just after 10 am in the morning, I stared incomprehendingly at a lot of smoke and the back end of a plane, sticking out of the side of the WTC.

"Oh, my God. Someone crashed." What an incredibly horrible accident.

"Yeah." He was talking, I don't remember what he said.

I shifted the phone and moved toward the sofa when suddenly the camera panned sideways. My postnatal brain took a long moment to understand...this was another plane. A second plane, and it was going to hit the other building. Only that couldn't be.

And then it happened. Right on the screen, in front of me, between one breath and the next, the whole world changed.

After we hung up I sat there in the dark holding my son, tears streaming down my face. I cried for the people who were already dead. I cried for the ones who were dying, for their helplessness and their fear, and for their families. I cried for my son, and my newly minted understanding that I couldn't protect him, not really.

I didn't know then what the outcome would be, and I'm not sure I fully know it now. I don't want to talk about that.

I just wanted to say that I remember.

Why I am not blogging

2008-08-19T14:25:00.003-03:00

Hi, friends, remember me? Well, you must, since you're here.

I have not been blogging because I'm back at work on AHTH. More precisely, I'm reading it - because I actually don't remember all of what's there, and I needed a refresh. I thought it was better. But it's all right - I still feel connected with Carrie, and I can see where I did not say all of what I meant. I do that.

I have also not been blogging because we've been all over da place - camping, amusement park-ing, barbecue-ing, and forgetting how to spell. I was getting too old - spiritually, mentally - and have been focused on getting my hair and makeup all messed up, laughing at bathroom jokes, and eating french fries in the shade with ketchup and extra salt. I even painted my toenails bubblegum pink.

So, I'm still here. Just refilling the well.

There is no Try, only Do

2008-08-11T10:16:00.003-03:00

I borrow this heading from my friend Lindsay as a sorely needed reminder to me. I am determined to write today, so of course there are a thousand details that need emergency attention - product orders, email messages, dirty dishes. Yanno, anything but the blank page in front of me and the terrifying void in my brain where my story is supposed to be.

I do want to tell you about our weekend in PEI, but first, 500 words.

Camping

2008-07-30T10:27:00.002-03:00

We're taking the kids camping in PEI for a few days, and I'm really looking forward to it. Is that crazy? Probably.

I had no idea how much preparation goes in to this kind of thing - it seemed a lot simpler when I was a kid and my parents were doing all the work.

We needed everything, startng with a tent. DH bought one on sale, and then found a bigger one for the same price, so we switched and set up the new one in the back yard. He spent the better part of a day applying sealant.

"What the heck is that?" Wondered Beloved Neighbour, neatly propping a squirming 38 lb two-year-old (hers) under her arm. She was looking at the four feet of screened-in area on one end of the structure. It might have been a nice idea, but for the triangular shape of it owed to the angle of the screen, attaching to the top of the main part of the tent. So it was four feet of tent floor, draped in screen. "That's useless! I'd put that right back in the box and return it." She poked her head inside. "And you're never going to fit everything in there."

I sighed, and silently agreed. When DH inflated our brand-new air mattresses and put them in the tent, he agreed out loud. The tent went back. We're on tent #3, and it looks like the Taj Mahal in comparison.

And it's lanterns and coolers, beach towels, tarps and sleeping bags, stuff, and things, and a portable DVD player for the drive. Snacks, a meal plan, childrens' Benadryl, and a Rubbermaid box full of footwear for any climatic eventuality. Are we good? I'll let you know!

Have YOU heard of Google?

2008-07-24T12:35:00.003-03:00

I hate it when my phone rings, and the person who has made it do so (thus requiring me to pick up the danged thing) turns out to be working at a call center. It's even worse when the product on offer is patently inappropriate for me or my business, and two seconds' research could have saved everyone the bother. These days common sense is just too expensive; it's cheaper for the Suits if they pay poor people crap wages to waste my time. Like yesterday's gem:

"Good Morning, Itsy Bitsy Computers, Cindy speaking."

"Yes, Madame, this is Victor calling from Unintelligible Corporation. May I please be speaking with your general manager, please?"

"Speaking." At this point, the line goes silent for a moment while the caller frantically rifles his employee manual, searching for the section entitled What To Do When Confronted with A GIRL.

"Oh. Oh, excellent Madame. Perfect. I was calling today just to find out, have you ever heard of Google? Madame? Madame, why are you laughing?"

"Yes, I've heard of Google." (snort)

"Oh, perfect. We are calling today because we are hoping to make arrangement with excellent company like yourself, to advertise on the front page of Google. Madame?"

(chuffle) "I quite doubt I have the budget to advertise on the front page of Google," (as I'd have to cancel my Superbowl commercial and that would Never Do) "but here's my email address."

"Indeed, madame. That's just perfect. I will be sending you the information straight away, and then in one hour I will be calling to see if you received it."

"Yep. Have a nice day." It's nice when they give you a little heads up. I wrote down his phone number, to be sure I didn't accidentally answer the phone when he called again.

He did call back, twice. I missed him, because I was on a conference call with Donald Trump and George Clooney at the time. So sad.

To three or not to three?

2008-07-21T11:41:00.003-03:00

Yesterday afternoon, I spent a little while working on a paint-by-number while the kids watched some TV.

"So?" You ask.

And this morning, I woke up to find that Pebbles had spent the entire night in her own bed, with no 3 am requests for cuddles or a bottle. That's been happening more and more.

"She's two," you remind me. "That's what we expect. And why are you still giving her a bottle at 3 am anyway?" (I don't know. Leave me alone.)

...AND I've noticed lately that there are times in the evening when - get this! - nobody needs me for anything. I could sit down, and it's almost like nobody would notice. Except maybe the cat, who is attracted to warm horizontal surfaces.

I was looking at pictures of Pebbles, and suddenly I'm realizing how much she's grown. That she really isn't a baby any more. She's a toddler, a person in her own right, fully equipped with her own agendas and opinions. We're arriving at that point where it starts to get easier. Or at least less intense.

So I hear myself asking, in a faraway, singsong kind of mental voice...do I want another?

HELLO? WHAT?

And then I glance nervously at my husband, to see if he heard me thinking that. Because if he did, I think he might actually cry. And then shake me. And then ask a lot of loud questions about my mental health. And I'd be waiting just as anxiously for my answers, because that's just...

(...it's biology, is what it is. It's a gazillion years of reproductive programming.)

...crazy. I've been working six days a week and I'm in no position to change that, I don't ever feel like I spend enough time with the Beloved I already have, I haven't been writing, or baking, or keeping up with any of my friends. So sure, let's have another baby. FABulous idea.

Says the little voice that started it all, "I didn't mean right this minute!"

"Oh, shut up," I tell it. "We are not discussing this." And we're not.

At least not right now.

Family

2008-07-17T09:47:00.002-03:00

My uncle passed away a few weeks ago, quietly in his bed, with his wife sitting nearby. She said he took a breath, and then he just didn't take any more.

It's been many years since he was the man he was born to be. He had a heart attack and the resulting brain damage broke that filter most of us have - the one that keeps us from repeating the same stories over and over, telling rude jokes in front of children, and making deeply inappropriate comments. To be honest, I didn't...how do you say you didn't really like someone, when they're dead? How can I express that without looking like a right bitch?

My aunt (not the one who was married to him) remarked lately that the family here in Nova Scotia never really got to know the real him, since he only moved here after his heart attack. She remembered visiting with them in Toronto, and they had a picnic in the park, with hotdogs and potato salad. My uncle noticed a homeless man sitting off under a tree, and he went over, sat down beside him, and talked to him for a while. Made up a plate for him. That was what he was really like, she said. And he may always have had a tendency to speak in a loud voice and tell rude jokes, but he was kind and he didn't judge people. (wince)

That's how it is when someone really dies, for good. Looking back now, I admit that yes, all he ever wanted - all he was trying to do - was make us laugh. And now that he's gone, the obnoxious behaviour no longer defines him, and he comes into focus as the unique and ultimately precious individual he was. That we all are, frailties and warts and indiscretions included.

The Family has Come: my father, his seven sisters, and the various spouses and offspring and grand-offspring who all cared enough to make the trek from Ottawa, Toronto, and wherever. Tonight we'll all be eating supper together at the house built for them by their father. And while we're a big family and prone to gather like puppies in a basket, this will be the first time I recall all the aunties being there at once. I wouldn't miss it for the world.

Meme

2008-07-15T16:06:00.006-03:00

Because I can do this while I'm on hold...

TECHNOLOGY:What is the wallpaper on your computer?
A cat with its paw over its face, captioned "I cannot brain today, I have the dumb."

Does that make sense?
OMG yes.

How many televisions do you have in your house?
Two.

BIOLOGY
Are you right handed or left handed?
Right handed, but I use my left for cutting food because I hate switching hands with my silverware.

Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
Yes. A gallbladder, some wisdom teeth and two children.

What is the last heavy item you lifted?
A computer.

Have you ever been knocked out?
During (and after) some of the procedures above, yes, if that counts.

BULLSHITOLOGY
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
No way.

If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
I wouldn't change it, strange as it is.

What color do you think looks best on you?
Brown, black, red and pink, bright green.

Have you ever swallowed a non-food item?
Yes. A button, in church. It fell off my blouse and I didn't have a pocket, so I put it in my mouth... hey, I was twelve. My brain wasn't really developed yet.

DAREOLOGY
Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100?
I think so, yanno, depending...

Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000?
Hell, no.

Would you never blog again for $50,000?
Yes.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1,000?
Yes.

Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for a million dollars?
Of course not.

DUMBOLOGY
What is in your left pocket?
nothing.

Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie?
I have no idea.

Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house?
Both.

Do you sit or stand in the shower?
Stand.

How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
One. Do Birks count? Then two.

LASTOLOGY
Last person who texted you?
I don't have text messaging.

Last person who called you?
Pastor Ross. He wants to know about his laptop repair.

Last person you hugged?
Pebbles.

FAVOURITOLOGY
Number?13

Season? Summer.

Color? sunshine yellow.

CURRENTOLOGY
Missing someone?
Yes, my peeps.

Mood?
Cranky. The full moon is coming and people are acting weird.

Listening to?
Iceberg radio

Worrying about?
Work. Oh, and the size of my butt. (G)

Wearing?
black capris and a purple shirt, and a (very sexy) wrist splint.

RANDOMOLOGY
First place you went this morning?
The kitchen. That's where the kettle is.

What can you not wait to do?
Go home

Do you smile often?
Oh yes.

Are you a friendly person?
Yes, sometimes too much so.

What I did on my summer vacation (all 4 days of it)

2008-07-09T11:02:00.007-03:00

It was only a few days, but sometimes that's all you get. Sometimes, it's all you need. So, how did I spend my precious few?

I drove across the province in a blue minivan with my kids, over the spiny ridge that runs the length of the mainland, past the airport to the summit where suddenly you can see lush green farmland rolling away to the horizon. We came back down to water level at Truro, a town at the tip of the Bay of Fundy, which smells like a combination of manure and fast food. That's where you'll find the Acricultural College, but for the life of me I couldn't tell you what else is there - except every food franchise known to man, crammed cheek by jowl on a 1 km stretch of potholes.

Pebbles, sensibly, slept the whole way. BamBam and I sang along to such timeless classics as The Cat Came Back, and The Big Ship Sailed on the Alley Alley Ooh, Crocodile Rock, and the Hockey Song.

After Truro we turned to the north, and drove uphill and down through more beautiful country. A new vista opens at the crest of every hill as the highway rolls away from you toward the Northumberland Strait. This is Nova Scotia, Appalacia's last sleepy murmer before she lays herself down to sleep in the ocean.

And at last, Pictou. The place where the first Scottish settlers landed, giving Nova Scotia her name. It's a wonderful little town, where they've built a museum and a replica of the Ship Hector, the boat that brought those settlers. (I love the souvenir shop, we go every year. We also eat lunch in Thom's Pub.)

In Pictou my imagination bubbles, warmed by the local history. I can feel these people around me, wanting me to hear their stories. Some day when the kids are bigger I hope to go down there to research and write.

Once there...

I walked on the beach at low tide with my kids and mom and sister, looking at starfish and hermit crabs. I also went for a long walk on a dirt road with Mom and the kids - who missed not one single mud puddle the whole way. Pictou has red dirt, high in iron. It doesn't wash out easily, but it was worth it.

I played Scattergories and Boggle with my mom and sister. We also worked on a paint-by-number.

I biked 10K on a hot day in hilly country with my dad and DH. DH and I didn't exactly keep up with the "old feller", but Dad was kind enough to stop and wait for us from time to time. Come to think of it, it's possible that DH was just hanging back to keep me company. And maybe to make sure I didn't die in the ditch. (On getting back to the cottage, my concerned family parked me in a lawn chair with some ice water. I guess my face was a little red. (G) )

We had a water balloon fight. Mom made us a gourmet lunch of watermelon, pepperoni, cheese and crackers, but it got a little wet when Dad and DH attacked her with the hose and a bucket of water. (She still doesn't know exactly who did that, so don't tell!)

My dad made a bonfire on the beach at dusk, and we swatted bugs and roasted an entire bag of marshmallows.

Pebbles caught a surprise wave right in the chops - and she was fine. She shivered convulsively, and said "Oooh, cold." Then, smacking her lips, "tasty!"

Finished reading STRAY, by Rachel Vincent. (I highly recommend it.) Threw a football with BamBam, and ate a hotdog that fell on the ground.

I went for a ride on DH's motorbike - something I haven't done for years, what with pregnancy and smallish children. Also went to the grocery store dressed in black leather - and bought ground beef, potato chips and toaster strudel. Yep, we're hoodlums.

We drove home on the sunniest day of all four, tired and full of gratitude for the time with my family, followed by DH on his motorbike. I entertained myself by cleaning my windshield unnecessarily, and watching him in the rear view to see if I got him with the spray. (The very best part of this was that he had no idea I was doing it on purpose. (G)

So anyway, I'm back at work now, and have been for a week, but I just wanted to share with you (and remind myself) what a really good weekend it was, full of little-arm hugs and marshmallow kisses, sunscreen and laughter. I can't wait for the next one.

An actual email

2008-06-27T11:39:00.002-03:00

This, from one of my suppliers:

"Just in this fine morning All our free to air satelite recievers and accessorries have just arrived in stock. So get then now why we still have stock there going fast. "

Ow, my head.

Countdown to the weekend: 6 hours, 16 minutes.

Living the Coles notes version

2008-06-27T09:56:00.006-03:00

It feels longer than two months since my awesome co-worker left, and I'm still trying to find a rhythm of work and home that functions properly. There just isn't enough time, I'm covering the bases, checking off the major points - shower, work, bedtime stories - and enjoying hardly any of it. It's the Coles notes version of my life.

At work, I'm three weeks behind on some of my administrative stuff, and I go from line 1 to line 2 to the counter, to email, and back to the phone again. I'm doing all right, I'm doing a good job, but I'm so rushed that I'm not getting the sense of accomplishment I would like to feel. I'm only tired.

Then I drive home, trying to shake the vaguely irritable, dissatisfied feelings before I get there, so I can walk in with a smile and enjoy the kids for those two or three precious hours before they go to bed. Work is over now, I am lucky to be going home to such a wonderful family.

I once heard a woman on a tv show remark "If the Momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy!" I remember rolling my eyes, and wondering just who in hell she thought she was, the queen? But now that I have a family, I see what she meant. It wasn't that she wanted everybody kowtowing to her every whim. It's just a simple truth - the household watches the mother. They take their cues from her, they calibrate their sense of peace and wellness according to her mood.

No pressure. (G)

Being away from them so much, I can't help but feel the full import of this priviledge - what an incredible thing, to be so essential to these people. And yet, it can be overwhelming. I don't always manage to get my sh*t together, and those days it's rough knowing that I'm letting them down. They need me.

And then my daughter goes to sleep with her little hand on my face, and I am forgiven, and healed.

But wait...see the calendar? It says that at 6 pm today, the door closes - and it's going to stay that way until Wednesday morning. We're going to my parents' cottage, which is far enough away but not too far, and I will have a break. Four days with no work, no telephone, just the Beloved and my parents and the ocean. We'll do a massive jigsaw puzzle, drink some beer, and laugh a lot.

Thank you, God.