Colds, Mulch and Good Books

A cold seeks residence in my nose. The sneezing started yesterday, although I don't yet have that tickle in the throat that heralds the end of all resistance. I've just started rebuilding my sick leave so I'm a bit irritated that I may have to use it so soon. I'm drinking Airborne and taking cold meds in the hope of delaying illness until more winter-ly weather kicks in.

It could be the mulch I moved last night. Did you know if you have tree trimmers in your neighborhood, they may be willing to dump trimmings in your yard rather than hauling them to a local dump site and paying fees to get rid of them? For a recycler and composter like me, fresh tree chippings with all the green and brown crunched into shreds are a Woo-Hoo moment stretched into an hour of hard work in light rain. I used everything they left and wish I had two or three more loads, but I'm grateful for what I got. Come spring, it will all be melted into black gold.

I'm 40% through A Cast of Stones by Patrick Carr and enjoying it. Yes, there's been a few beating-a-dead-horse paragraphs and a couple of wrong-word-typos, but nothing I haven't seen worse in other places. The main character has just enough hardship to keep him interesting and not so much to exhaust me (Kvothe of The Name of the Wind reminded me of A Series of Unfortunate Events on more than one occasion).

If I want to lie down a bit before work, I'd best go.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Take those vitamins and wash your hands.

Committing to Forget

Becky Minor used this phrase in a recent post and voiced exactly what I've been trying to do with Dangling Justice.

I conceived Dangling Justice in college. I illustrated at least three scenes from what I imagined the plot would be. I'm talking multimedia pen and ink, colored pencil and marker illustrations. Those puppies took time and they solidified my imagination.

I keep bumping into those illustrations. Oh, no, I can't do that, because then they wouldn't end up here doing this thing I drew. Oh, no, she can't look like that because she looks like this. Oh, no, he does it this way in the picture.

None of these issues should stop me. None of these issues are actual issues. They were ideas I had way back when and I have different ideas now.

I've had the same trouble with Past Ties, so much trouble, in fact, I've almost decided that book will never be revised/updated/published. It was a campy first effort at writing a book, but I wrote it and it remains.

I must commit to forget what I planned twenty years ago. Had I written it then, it would be different, but I didn't and it isn't. The story must move forward, not stall out at now-useless images from my once-fertile imagination, no matter how beautifully proportioned.

Happy Monday, dear readers. If your past holds you back, first forgive, then commit to forget.

Upgrades

If you're my FB Friend (and pay attention), you know I've updated my wardrobe (bought pants) and updated my coiffure (dyed my hair). So, why the sudden attention to the outward appearance?

First, the changes aren't that dramatic. About once a decade I notice my clothes are too small/ too ratty/ too hard to match, and I get new clothes. That happened last week when I spent a day squeezed into 15 year old pants with snags and a button coming loose even though I've sewn it on about four times. I'd had enough and that night I bought five pairs of pants. The miracle was they were all in colors I needed. That hasn't happened in about 15 years.

The hair isn't that dramatic, either. I cut off five inches, yes, but it's still below my shoulders and I will still put it in a bun clip most days because I hate hair touching my face. In fact, it went into a scrunchie right after I snapped this pic.

I dyed it because the leftover red from last November had turned orange and was driving me crazy. There's no way to get from orange to silver without shaving my head, so I dyed it the normal brown and the silver will come back on its own. It also cost me nothing because the house guest I've kept for the last few weeks paid for the whole thing. He's an odd looking dog, but flush.

It was weird to look in the mirror this morning. I haven't seen that kid in 20 years. I kinda wanted to slap her. 

Finally, after a What Not to Wear marathon a few months ago, I remembered that an adult should project a certain image in the workplace, and I was falling down on that job. Not saying I'm turning into a fashionista. Just saying I occasionally need to clear out the old to make way for the new.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. What's in your closet?

Alignment

Weird thing happened Wednesday night. I was exhausted and getting ready for bed, looked at the clock, thought "I have a little time," pulled out my laptop and WROTE SOMETHING ON MY WIP.

Yes, all you writers out there who do that every day - good for you. I've been stuck so long I've built a house in the rut. But that night, thanks to the outline, I knew where I was going and I knew I could make a little progress if I just turned on the computer. I did, too.

Tried it last night, but I really was too tired and the computer itself thwarted me by running all these diagnostics it's been wanting to run for a while. Plus, I'd handwritten bits of the next scene earlier in the day, so I'm counting that as working on it.

While pondering this scene and some ahead, the issue of "alignment" came up. I'd like to take a moment to thank Wizards of the Coast and D&D for including alignment in their gaming systems, because it's a useful concept.

Alignment comes in flavors, like ice cream: Good, Neutral and Evil. Add the adjectives Lawful, Neutral and Chaotic and you get the ice cream container: Lawful Good, Neutral Good, Chaotic Good, Lawful Neutral, Neutral Neutral (I wouldn't even know how to play that but it exists), Chaotic Neutral, Lawful Evil, Neutral Evil and finally Chaotic Evil. Out of sheer perversity, I would finish the analogy by saying "Lawful" is a paper cup, "Neutral" is a thin waffle cone prone to drips and "Chaotic" is no container at all - just a handful of ice cream.

Why do you care? Because written characters have alignment, too. A Good character cannot do something Evil without consequences, and vice versa. A Lawful Evil character may resemble a Lawful Good character until the right circumstances reveal the evil (think Magneto's abandonment of Mystique in Xmen 3 because she's no longer "one of them").

Keep in mind when you're writing or reading that a character's actions should reveal that character's alignment. In Pan's Labyrinth, my alignment warning went off when the Faun put an 8 year old girl into extremely dangerous (and beautiful) situations, even though he claimed to be helping her. At that moment, I moved his alignment from Good to Neutral Good a hair's breath away from Lawful Evil (the "healing" spell using mandrake and human blood didn't help his case, either). He might be a friend, but his version of friendship is rougher than I would like.

Alignment isn't an excuse to write two-dimensional characters, but it is a gut-check on what kinds of actions your characters will perform. A Good character who kills in cold blood or steals or lies may suffer an alignment shift and all the baggage that goes with it or may be trapped by conscience into making restitution that hinders his ultimate goal. An Evil character who shows mercy may suffer the same thing, or may be using all his evil wiles to lull the Good character into a trap.

Choosing an alignment is one more way to keep characters - and your story - on the right track.

Happy Friday, dear readers. Make it a Good one.

Zucchini Pie

Zucchini season may be over for me. The remaining four plants are looking sad indeed, but that doesn't mean I won't need this recipe later.

Zucchini Pie

1 1/2 C Cooked Zucchini (you can cube it and microwave for about 6 minutes)

1/2 cup sugar

1 egg

3 T flour

1 C evaporated milk

1 t vanilla

Put all ingredients in blender.

Mix Well.

Pour in unbaked pie shell.

Bake a 425 degrees for 10 minutes then at 300 degrees until well set (about an hour)

This is an amazing pie. Looks like quiche, feels like pumpkin, tastes like custard. I don't even like pie, but I will be making this. 

It Starts...Again

Does anyone else hear Timon from The Lion King when you read "it starts?"

Last night I started Dangling Justice. Again. No, I didn't start over, although I did a quick read-through of the first 50 pages to correct a few issues I noticed the last time I read through the first 50 pages.

This story is potentially full of cheats. The current scene is one of them. If I pull it off, disbelief will remain suspended and my readers will remain happy. If I fail miserably, readers will delete the book and never talk to me again.

I can probably live with it either way. I might actually prefer the latter because it lessens the pressure.

When this story first fired in my imagination, the ending was absolutely deus ex machina. I mean, God got them into it; He would have to get them out of it, too. It worked for Lewis, right? The children can't possibly get out of Narnia on their own.

That ending no longer makes me happy. While outlining with the help of Structuring Your Novel, I brainstormed other possible solutions and found one slightly less divine. Not much less, mind you, but a little. We'll see.

The outline, rudimentary as it is, helps. I felt the difference in the new bits I added last night. Instead of dialogue and action meandering across the white space, character interaction aimed at something: the end. The end is currently out of sight over a mountain, but it's there, waiting to be found.

Every start must have an end, after all. That's the whole point.

Happy Wednesday, dear readers. May you start and end well today.

Fall in The Swamp

The days shorten. Although summer waited until the end of August to arrive, it can't escape the tilting of Earth. Last night I awoke because I was cold - a familiar and unwelcome sensation I've experienced far more often than I care to in the last twelve months. It will be cold for real too soon for this reptile.

One hour a day is making all the difference in The Swamp - for both of us. I need the exercise and it needs the taming. 

I tore out one zucchini plant yesterday. It didn't even protest. The baby blueberries underneath seem no worse for the shelter or the squash bugs. Perhaps I should plant something tall between them and the southern sun.

I've torn out barrels of bermuda and crab grass. I shouldn't put them in the compost pile, but I did. I need the green more than I care about the seeds. I'll turn it often this winter, especially if we have snow like we did last winter. I'll need to collect leaves, too. Can't have a good garden without good soil.

I pruned roses, and I have the scratches to prove it. All the ones I took from Grandma Turtle's house rebloom if I deadhead. They also take over the garden if I don't.

Discovered the plants I thought were wild rhubarb are actually enormous stickleburrs. Glad I've been as mean to them as I have been. Made it easier to remove the few that survived. They will not go into the compost pile this year. I'll wait until the seeds have soaked into mush.

About the time I'm at the end of the zucchini season, I discover zucchini pie. It looks like quiche and tastes like custard. Once I have the recipe, I'll share it, but only because there's enough zucchini to go around. Otherwise, no one would see it but me.

Overall, I'm pleased with The Swamp this year. It's not as tame as I could wish, but we're coming to an understanding.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Monday will find you today, so be ready.

The History

Twenty years before Star of Justice was a blip on my imaginary writing screen, I wrote Past Ties. We're talking college here and the beginning of my million word journey.

Past Ties would technically be the first story I ever "finished." Today I would call it a 27K word sci-fi romance novella with a cliff-hanger ending, i.e., an unfinished story, but, hey, back then I finished nothing. To quote Sam Elliott in Roadhouse, I was "fast out of the gate, but not much on stamina."

However, I had plans. Past Ties would lead to Present Tense (time travel from future to our 1991 following a robot assassin, thank you very much) would lead to Future Perfect, wherein the two main characters from Past Ties finally give in to love after tracking down a serial killer.

Yeah, I've always been like this.

I also had plans for a crossover book in which the robot and one of the characters from 1991 Manhattan, KS accidentally slip between worlds while testing the time machine and end up "elsewhere" for a few adventures. The adventures would revolve around the spoiled princess of a country that eventually became Golor, and the book that would launch that series would be Royal Pain. The title of the crossover book, to stay with the grammar theme of the other three, was Misplaced Modifiers.

Upon reflection, Misplaced Modifiers didn't have enough punch, so I changed it to Dangling Participles. Yes, I believe the phrase is actually "dangling gerund," but participle not only sounded better to my ear, it played to the idea of "action out of place."

Then I upset the apple cart and wrote Star of Justice out of literally nowhere. That character and story sprang into my brain fully formed almost as I wrote the book, but I knew this would be part of that Royal Pain series, and thus, at some point, Dangling Participles would have to be part of the lineup.

Which brings us to today, when I've modified the title of my crossover to Dangling Justice to emphasize both its connection to Ah'rahk and its crossover nature. The truth is Past Ties may never see the light of literary day (it might also be published posthumously and become my most popular work) but it does exist in the mythology of Ah'rahk and I will acknowledge it.

So, on days like yesterday when I wrote the wrong title, I did it because in my brain it's been Dangling Participles for about 20 years, and Dangling Justice for about 20 days. It'll take a little while to retrain the fingers.

Happy Thursday, dear readers. More than you ever wanted to know, I'm sure.

Missing the Climax

It isn't my fault your brain goes to inappropriate places. I'm talking about the climax of my WIP.

Structuring Your Novel has moved from explaining basic structural elements of a story to FAQs. I don't need these as much, so I'm skimming until we reach the next stage of K.M. Weiland's book. Even if I find nothing else of interest in the last 50%, I still got my $2.99 worth. I'm satisfied.

However, I'm not satisfied with Dangling Participles. I've taken notes the last week, made a sketch of an outline I will shortly transfer to a spreadsheet, and decided once and for all what I'm currently lacking is a slam-bang finish.

I suspected this for a while. One of the reasons I didn't fully commit to the story is I saw no clear  pinnacle. You know, that moment everything rushes toward? The Big Battle. The Point where The Point of No Return leads you.

One of my fears is promising what I can't deliver. A reader takes a chance on monster books like mine, and I'm supposed to reward their faith by giving them the ride of their literary lives. This includes a powerful and satisfying climax.

TT: Geez ole Pete. It all sounds incredibly dirty, doesn't it? Stupid over-sexualized American culture.

The lack of a climax may also be due to the lack of a concrete protagonist. After a week of pondering, I'm not sure who or what "the villain" is or should be among the half dozen options I've explored. It's kind of hard to fight an unidentified enemy in an epic battle.

This is one of those moments I'm hoping the writing will reveal the ending. I have a direction and a vague idea of what will happen. As I put these characters through their paces, their enemy should reveal itself and hopefully provide the obvious climax.

May as well end as I began. Happy Hump Day, dear readers!

Oi.

Anna and the Dragon...and Spaghetti

I know, I promised a zucchini recipe, but this is way more important. Although, not as delicious. I'll put the recipe at the bottom.

I finished Anna and the Dragon last night just before 10 PM. This is remarkable only because I started reading it Sunday afternoon. No, it isn't a small book. It's just so darn compelling I had to finish it. I even took two breaks during work yesterday (something we're encouraged to do but I rarely do) so I could read at work.

This is a book about an antisocial woman who wears clunky boots, forgets to eat and shows interest in people only when they're part of her research. How could I not like it? Then she falls for an ill-kempt Welsh rogue? Please. How could I not like this book? Add a kilt, and I've written it. Not really. That's about it for similarities, although there is one part where she's looking up at this black "arch" that reminded me... well, I won't go into that.

It's set in Oregon and Oregon is a character in its own right. I can smell the gloomy, green damp and the salt water and the cold. Excellent! The health food store became the Health Food Mart I frequent (minus the deli and coffee bar - guess those are standard in Oregon). That tiny apartment with its card table could have been the tiny apartment I rented in grad school.

The publisher is CreateSpace, which I think means she did it herself. Well, she's a better editor than most because I didn't notice a single typo. Can't say that about many books these days, my own included. The best compliment I can give her is "it reads like a real book." Which also means there's some adult situations and cussing but not nearly as much as I get standing in the checkout line at Walmart, so don't let that stop you.

Since I don't know the author yet (we've FB Friended but what does that really say about a person?), my anxiety was higher than normal. Would I like the ending? Would all the suffering be worth it? Would the cat survive?! You can't always tell with these spec fic authors. Some of them enjoy tragedy as object lessons. That last page was a sigh of relief, I'm telling ya.

I gave it 5 stars. That's a first for me with a living author,* 'cause my realist self says they could always write a better book and where do you go from "up"? The best part is the price. $2.99! You can buy the book and a multi-grain vegan sandwich to go with it like a real Oregonian.

Most importantly, Ginger survives the book.

If you can't tell, I liked it. A lot.

*Turns out it's not a first for me. The first was Odd Little Miracles by Fred Warren and I've handed out a few since then. Apparently, early dementia afflicts the Turtle. Sorry. 

And now the recipe I made in-between reading sessions and ate while reading:

Spaghetti with Zucchini and Garlic

2 sm to med zucchini, shredded large

¼ cp extra-virgin olive oil (4 turns on the pan)

4 cloves garlic, chopped

Salt and pepper

(Basil pesto if you have access to such)

1 lb spaghetti, al dente

½ cp grated parmasiano or romano

 

Over medium heat, add olive oil and shredded zucchini.

Season with salt and pepper.

Cook zucchini 7 – 10 minutes. Add garlic (and basil pesto, if desired) in the last two minutes to avoid burning the garlic.

Add hot, drained pasta to the pan.

Toss spaghetti with zucchini and add handfuls of grated cheese. Adjust seasoning and serve.

Weekend Recap

The partial insomnia is back. I'm waking up around 3 AM because that seems to be the tipping point for heat collection the house. It's too cool outside (as in, under 82 degrees) to make the thermostat trip, but it's at the edge of my tolerance level inside. It almost makes me miss winter. Sometimes it helps to get up and adjust the fan. Sometimes it doesn't. This morning, it didn't.

I read an article posted on FB about "two sleeps," how people in medieval Europe, at least, used to sleep for a while before midnight, wake up for a couple hours, and go back to sleep for a few more hours. This would be pre-electricity days when darkness lasted fourteen hours and nobody had to beat traffic at 4 AM. I'm a little concerned that this article settled itself in my selectively suggestive brain and I'll never sleep through the night again, even though I have electricity. Oh well. What's read is read. Let that be a lesson to you, folks.

The zucchini may be nearing the end. Despite my efforts (I won't call them "best" because they've been a little hit or miss), the squash bugs are taking over. Aside from the normal sense of panic I experience when I come to the "end" of something, I am a bit tired of constant vigilance. Flowers are easier, although the zucchini hasn't been as work-intensive as I'd feared.

I'm nearly to the end of Structuring Your Novel by K.M. Weiland. That has been An Extremely Useful Book, let me tell you. I have yet to outline the slam-bang finish of Dangling Justice, but I'm way closer than I was a week ago when I started. After that, it's about the butt-in-seat writing, something I haven't practiced all out since Elementals, and never with an outline. Should be interesting.

I'll have a new zucchini recipe tomorrow. I made it last night, and even though I burned the garlic, overcooked the zucchini and made too little spaghetti, it was excellent. How good does a recipe have to be to forgive that kind of incompetence?

I'm off to make zucchini hash for breakfast. Happy Monday, dear readers.

Strong Female Characters

I've posted in the mornings for years, but my mornings are currently crowded with The Swamp, so we'll try evenings for a while.

Day three of no TV when I come home and I'm not missing it. This is far easier to do in the non-tornado season, btw. I know there's nothing more important entertainment-wise on television, but weather can kill the unaware and unprepared. Yes, that's my phobia talking.

I read a blog post by a total stranger this week on how much she hates the descriptive phrase "strong female character." While she had excellent, rational reasons, I still came away thinking "feminist" with a little scoff in my mental voice. My issue, I'm sure, because her reasons boiled down to "no one describes male characters that way."

Must everything be a reaction to maleness? Must women be "equal" or worthless? I would say "strong female character" is a reaction to all those weak female characters who were props for male characters to show off their masculinity. It's nice to see the literary world branching out. I don't see the need for a parade about it or a Female Character Awareness Day.

Do we really have nothing else to worry about as writers? Is this the straw that broke the camel's back (Hump Daaaaay, yeah!), whether my female characters are "strong" instead of "complicated," "snarky" or "egocentric"? Sheesh.

I just don't care. Describe them however you like. I'm not reading your reviews anyway. They're none of my business.

Happy Hump Day, dear readers. Hope it was a good one.

Symbolism

Kat interviewed Jill Domschot this week (go see) and got me thinking about symbolism.

I love symbols. I like depth and symbols are all about depth. Hidden meanings. Connotations. Similarities between dissimilar things.

Which is why when Jill posed the question "what symbols do you use?" I was stumped that I was stumped.

Now, as much as I like symbols, I also tend to mock those who symbolize everything. Yes, hypocritical of me, I know, but when your book is 160K words, sometimes a blue curtain is a blue curtain.

TT: Jill asked about the significance of the blue curtain, and I can only say somewhere in the past, a discussion was held about symbolism and someone said they put blue curtains into a scene for a particular symbolic reason. I mocked them, as is my wont, and promptly forgot the reason. My apologies. I am an arrogant dumbass.

Anyhoo, there I am wracking my brain for symbols in Star of Justice when it hits me (much like the title which took far too long to discover) that the "star of justice" is a symbol. It's the symbol worn by the knights of Golor. It's an obvious symbol, because I name it so, and nearly everyone in the book recognizes and understands the symbol, but it counts as a symbol nonetheless.

Radiac's symbol also counts. That second, equally dangerous mark Caissa receives that puts her into a mess of trouble time and again. So, two obvious uses of symbolism.

A deeper and completely unintended symbolism I figured out today is that by wearing both symbols, Caissa herself becomes a symbol. She symbolizes the struggle every person must face to take the easy left or the hard right. Do your duty or flee as a coward. It kinda makes me wish I'd put the star of justice on her right arm, except knights are marked on the side closest the heart, like a wedding ring. I guess that's another symbol.

There you have it. The only symbolism I recognize in my first published book. The two extremely obvious and intentional symbols and the one less obvious and completely unintentional symbol.

Finally, Kat gave Jill's first book 5 stars and it's less than $10. That alone makes it worth buying. Make an author's day and go get Anna and the Dragon. Make an author's month and actually read the thing.

Distracted

For the last week, I've gotten on here intending to write something and gotten distracted by the blogs of friends. Thanks, friends.

I've been distracted lately. Hard to stay focused at work. Running around The Swamp willy nilly pulling this and that with no discernible plan. Switching between books on the Kindle not because I'm bored but because something else drew my eye.

I think it's growing pains. I've been a lump for too long (and I have the arm fat to prove it). Realm Makers was no great epiphany for me. I've attended too many conferences in my life to fall for the emotional rush that leads to the emotional let down a week or two later. That's code for "I'm jaded." However, I spent a good sum of money, and I want to believe I got my money's worth.

What has come home is it's time to put up or shut up. This is no declaration of a return to daily blogging, but I can't be a writer if I don't write. I've been wandering around for the last few years, avoiding the computer for various reasons, most of them underpinned by either apathy or fear. That's no reason not to write. I don't have to publish one more thing if I don't want to, but I would like to write again - without fear, without worrying about the hard work. I'd like to enjoy it again.

Where is that joy? You couldn't have stopped me from writing in college if you'd cut my fingers off. I spent hours at my laptop giggling and I was writing pure crap, building my million word resume. Those early efforts had only passion to recommend them but I was too stupid to know it. Why now - when I have that practice behind me - should I stop enjoying it?

All my social obligations of two years ago have dried up. Friends' lives have changed and the Turtle sits alone on the edge of her swamp. This is a good thing. This is how Star of Justice was written. I was bored, and I had no friends (and no internet) to distract me. It's time to buckle down.

I'm applying Randy Ingermanssen's Snowflake Method to Dangling Justice. I'm reading K.M. Weiland's Structuring Your Novel because my writing expertise comes from 20 years ago and it's time for a refresher.

TT: I follow her blog but she guest-posted somewhere yesterday and I was so impressed with the post and her book was priced so right -$2.99 on Kindle- I bought it. Guest posting works, folks. Keep it up. 

Time to use distraction to my advantage. Let's see if my newest WIP can hold my attention.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers.

Kitchen Sink Macaroni Salad (with zucchini)

Yes, I'm determined to prove zucchini (and you) deserves more than bread.

I took the original recipe from Mr. Food, and then totally substituted stuff I can/like to eat. The only thing I didn't change is the peas and I didn't actually add them to my first try because I don't have any at the moment. The original called for salami instead of chicken and that probably is why you only add a teaspoon of salt. I didn't salt the chicken, so I'll up that a bit next time, too. I also used more than 1 cup of everything, but I guarantee this Turtle will eat every bite. Nom-nom.

Serves: 10

Chilling Time: 2 hr

Cooking Time: 15 min

What You'll Need:

1 (16-ounce) package pasta, cooked according to package directions, rinsed, and cooled

1 cup diced chicken

1 cup diced mozzarella cheese

1 cup frozen peas, thawed

1 cup chopped zucchini

1 cup diced celery

1/2 cup diced red onion

1 cup greek yogurt

2 teaspoons seasoning (I used Pampered Chef's Chili Lime Rub but I might try onion soup mix or Hidden Valley Ranch packets next time)

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon black pepper

What To Do:

In a large bowl, combine pasta, chicken, cheese, peas, olives, celery, and onion.

In a small bowl, combine mayonnaise, dry mustard, salt, and pepper; mix well.

Stir into pasta mixture; cover.

Refrigerate at least 2 hours, or until ready to serve.

Even Howard from the Mr. Food test kitchen allows that this recipe is made for substituting, so have fun and add what you like. 

Zucchini Rosemary Soup

This came from the Food com website, and I have no good reason to modify it, although the Kansan in me wants to add bacon.

Servings: 6

Ingredients:
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 stalks celery, chopped
1 onion, chopped
3 garlic cloves, chopped
2 teaspoons fennel seeds
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon pepper
3 zucchini, chopped
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh rosemary, minced
2 1/2 cups sodium-free chicken stock
3 tablespoons long-grain rice
1 1/2 teaspoons rice vinegar or 1 1/2 teaspoons lemon juice

Directions:
1 In a large saucepan, heat oil over medium heat. Fry celery, onion, garlic, fennel seeds, salt and pepper, stirring, occasionally, for 5 minutes or until softened.

2 Stir in zucchini and rosemary; cook for 6 minutes.

3 Add stock, 2 cups water and rice. Bring to boil. Reduce heat, cover and simmer, stirring often, for about 20 minutes or until rice is tender. Stir in rice vinegar; let cool slightly.

4 In batches in blender or food processor, purée soup until smooth.

I ate it warm, but it might be OK cold. It has a texture like cream of wheat. It's pale green, and I assume the rice vinegar is to hold the color because with that little amount, I couldn't taste it. 
Next time, I'll use fresher garlic and maybe a little more celery. It smelled like the chicken broth while it was cooking, but that wasn't the taste. It was very mild overall. Except for the rosemary garnish. I spit that out and wouldn't use it next time. ehem. 


There you go. Another use for zucchini, of which I have plenty.

The Trouble with Technology

That zucchini recipe has been up long enough, don't you think?

The events in Star of Justice are set in motion (somewhat) by a visit the year before of a young man and his non-magical construct. I reference this visit twice in Star of Justice, both times specifically because of the word "technology."

I kept that reference as vague as possible because while I knew the basics of this visit (accidental use of a time-space portal/wormhole) and intended to write about it should our world not end by 2012, I hadn't actually written that scene. After my experiences with "adapting" Elementals, I'm glad I hadn't. However...

Writing that scene is turning out to be a chore. It has to involve Caissa and Gamaliel, and Kiven has to define "technology" as "things that act magical without magic." Sounds simple, don't it? It ain't.

I've revised my original idea for this scene to something (hopefully) more interesting and that's left Caissa out of the main body of conversation, which can't happen because she's the one who remembers the word and the definition. So I'm revising my revision and keeping my fingers crossed that it works.

This is the difficulty with writing a series backwards, hoping you've kept the back story open enough for creative inspiration yet not ignored it so completely the reader is surprised into disbelief (Galena's a werebear?! Are you kidding? No, actually, I'm not). I have another book set sideways (or concurrently) with Star of Justice, and I'm already getting nervous about that.

While "researching" those references in Star of Justice (no, I can't remember details from my own book, OK?), I remembered how much I love it, so I'm reading it again, this time in the print version.

Wow, Grace, could you have made those margins narrower? I mean, I know it's a brick, but holy cow! The copy feels ready to fall off the page if I turn it too quick. Oh well. The ebook reads just fine and it's cheaper on Amazon anyway. $2.99, I think.

Happy Monday, dear readers. If you need something to do, Star of Justice is ready for your attention. And if you haven't read it again, do. You'll be amazed at what you missed the first time around.

Super Easy Zucchini Hash

Why not post a recipe? I'm used to making things up as I go along in the food department, but these turned out really well.

Serving size: 4
Prep time: 5 minutes
Cooking time: 9 minutes

shredded zucchini - 1/2 to 1 cup (use lesser measurement if your shreds are smaller)
2 large eggs
1/4 cup minced onion (more if you're an onion lover, none if you hate onions)
1-2 Tbsp oil (if you have an old electric skillet like me, you'll use 2 or ruin your skillet. For good pans, you can use less. Use whatever oil you like to taste. I used canola, but olive would work)
salt and pepper to taste
Optional: shredded cheese, salsa, guacamole

TT: See, this is why I hate recipes. Everything depends. This is food, for heaven's sake, not engineering.

-Heat skillet until oil is hot but not shimmering. Do the rest while the skillet is heating (about 5 minutes)
-Crack eggs in a breakfast bowl and beat with fork until blended. Give shells to nearest cat to lick clean before composting. Mine go to Skuttle.
-Shred zucchini. Give remainder of unshredded zucchini to dog, because you'll have more zucchini to harvest in the morning. Why did you plant 5 zucchini plants, you idiot?
-Blend shredded zucchini into eggs until it's all the same consistency.
-Mince onion. Add to eggs and zucchini. 
-Drop four big spoonful of egg mixture into heated skillet like pancakes. Salt and pepper each cake.
-Leave alone for 3 minutes (enough time to put hair into bun clip and return) then fold in half like an omelet and flip to let second side cook.

-Clean up prep area by allowing cats onto counter. I'm kidding. Cats shouldn't eat onion, so only do this if you hate onions and didn't use any. Otherwise, clean the counter first, then let the cats on it.

I made sure the spatula had no onion on it.

-Turn down heat and flip cake again. That zucchini is moist stuff and no one likes a soggy hash brown.

-This is the time to grab your favorite egg condiment. These would work equally well with sweet (toast with jelly) or savory (salsa and sour cream).

I ate all four of mine because I normally eat two eggs for breakfast, but they make a "serving size" of meat, so you could plan them as part of a full meal.

I suspect you could also double and bake the hash as a casserole but I don't have an oven, so I'm unlikely to try that.

There you go. Super easy zucchini hash. If you need zucchini to try it, I'll mail you some.

Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell

I bought this book on the recommendation of a co-worker, and it must have been cheap enough because I don't do expensive Kindle books.

TT: $8.99 is as high as I've gone so far and that was on the recommendation of Kat the Hacker. Fortunately, she was right. Patrick Rothfuss is worth reading even at that price.

JS&MN is a long book, too, because I've been reading steadily for at least a week and I tipped the halfway point last night. It has a blend of fascinating tedium that appeals to me. The oddest part so far is I don't actually like any of the characters. I don't actively wish them harm, but I wouldn't want to sit in a drawing room with any of them, either. Maybe Arabella. In this sense, it reminds me of Pride & Prejudice. I dislike most of those characters, too. I'd pierce my own eardrums with a knitting needle rather than listen to Mrs. Bennett for any portion of my life.

I don't know if the author is British, but she's got the British style down pat. It's the story of two English magicians who bring practical magic back into use during the Napoleonic war.  I keep comparing it to the Hornblower books set in the same time frame and find no real fault with either story for the comparison. We meet the Duke of Wellington (I think he's in the Hornblower books, too, as Lady Barbara's brother?) and King George. The mad one.

I fear the ending. After so many pages with these characters, I can't help but feel a little sorry for them and what's coming. I don't actually know what's coming, but the track so far is reminiscent of Lemony Snickett's Series of Unfortunate Events and I hated the one book of that series I read. Plus, this is British, not American, and Brits face the bittersweet end with determination, not defiance. The best I can hope for is a draw. 

In those moments when the tedium becomes too great and I put the Kindle down for a bit, I wonder what kind of person would write such things. As an author, I love my characters. I have to. We spend a lot of time together in the course of a book and I don't want to be around people I don't like. This author must love these annoying people to have spent so much time with them. That alone inclines me to continue, in the hopes that the tiny bits of goodness in them will somehow connect at the end to bring about good things instead of disaster. 

Happy Tuesday, dear readers, and happy reading. 

Gardens Take a Lot of Time

I had no idea. I mean, I kinda did, because one of the reasons I've never grown vegetables is it's a lot of work and "work" equals "time in the garden."

If I don't check for zucchini every morning, I end up with huge, rotted zucchini clogging up my production space. Harvesting zucchini every day means dealing with zucchini every day. Those suckers don't store, and I don't can. So, I'm cooking every night: frying zucchini, chopping zucchini, chopping onions to go with the zucchini before they go bad.

Last night's dinner took two hours and it was basically a vegetable casserole. Yes, I did stuff in between the microwave cooking (love my Pampered Chef stone baker, btw!) but that stuff was mixing and applying insecticidal soap on the zucchini to battle squash bugs and hopefully not kill any of my wasps, bees or beneficials.

I also suspect my lower grocery bill will not offset my higher water bill. It's not like I buy zucchini every day in season. This is an attempt to eat more fresh vegetables, not a money-saving measure.

My one purple bean struggles on, but it's by no means thriving. My tomato plant has plenty of green tomatoes but nothing is ripening.

One of my magazines said good dirt is key, and that may be where The Swamp fails. My dirt isn't good enough. Yet.

My plan for end of season is to remove all the dirt from my raised vegetable bed and spread it on the flower gardens. I'll refill the bed with compost and manure, cover it for the winter to "cook" and use it and only it for vegetables next year. I'll plant more attractive flowers for the critters and wait for my dirt to improve.

Happy Friday, dear readers. Eat those vegetables.

Down the Stairs, Around the Corner, Welcome to Hell

Have I told you my theory that dreams about houses are actually dreams about your life? If I haven't, it's because I'm afraid of losing those dreams by sharing. That can happen sometimes.

Ponder a bit. Do you tend to show up in the same place over and over in your dreams? Do you have a "house" you visit constantly when your eyes close? Do certain decorating themes recur enough to give you deja vu upon awakening?

I have a couple of places I have mentally visited enough times to be able to provide a map if you're interested in a dream travel getaway complete with blowing sheers, arched ceilings and open access to the underworld.

One feature in my "dream houses" is the basement doorway to Hell. It's never an actual doorway. In fact, there is nothing preventing any hellspawn that takes a fancy to an above ground stroll from doing so except possibly a narrowing of the unfinished concrete walls. This narrowing might make a human pause, but it would be a day in the death of any demon accustomed to navigating the bowels of the deep.

Usually my dream basements are unfinished. Concrete floors. Cement block walls with or without a water barrier coating. Bare lightbulbs. They aren't generally crowded with boxes or junk. It could be a space anybody could work in. But...in one of the corners, half-hidden by the shadow of an I-beam, there's an opening...

If you peek in, you might see a narrow corridor curving gently away from the light as the concrete floor turns to dirt. It might open into a crumbling, musty cellar that stretches far longer than a cellar should in a typical neighborhood. Once it was just a hole in the wall. Always that space is set apart by the absolute certainty that if I continue into the darkness, I never escape, or if I stray too close, I will draw some unspeakable horror out of its pit to hunt me down.

I'd say I was reading too much Lovecraft, but I suspect it's more a case of Lovecraft capturing what I fear - the unknown depths where evil lurks.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Pleasant dreams.

Dangling Justice

Yep, that's the working title for the prequel to Star of Justice. I pulled it out this week and scanned the 84 pages I've written over the years. Would I be able to pick up where I left off? How much is worth keeping? Is it as funny as I remember?

Good news is I like what I've done. I didn't see any major issues and corrected the minor ones (mostly verb tenses I've been smacking other people for, so be assured, not only do I have those issues, I smack myself for them). I continue to think it's funny. Not sure anyone else will, but I chuckled a lot.

Better news is I've decided to play with all those "getting in touch with your roots" stuff in this book instead of in the likely never to be revised/published Past Ties. I'm surprised and excited at how easily this book lends itself to those themes. I should have a good balance of funny and bitter.

I'm leaning toward this book at this time for two reasons.

One, Star of Justice has a lot of surprises and anything coming after will build on some of those. I'm not sure I'm ready for that, so going backwards lays different groundwork and gives more readers a chance to read SoJ without spoilers before going forward.

Two, Dangling Justice should be a faster, funnier read than SoJ. It's fantasy, but more RPG than epic and I'm hoping that makes it easier to write while part of my brain is engaged in my day job. C.S. Lewis did something different with every Narnia book. Why can't I? 

I've hesitated to switch WIPs because I book-hopped as a lass, changing projects anytime I got bored and ultimately never finishing anything. However, two years stalling out on one mss is enough for now. We'll see if switching projects this time gets things moving again in the writing department.

Usually, good news comes with bad news, but I don't have any at the moment. The way forward is fairly clear. I just need to sit down, start writing and see what happens. Sounds easy enough.

Happy Friday, dear readers. Stay cool and eat your vegetables.

Well, I Survived...

the 4th, that is.

Independence Day is my most hated holiday (although I loved the movie). I've hated it as long as I can remember. I hate the loud, I hate the explosions and I hate the absolute inconsideration of normally nice-seeming folks. It's like everybody acts like a cigarette smoker for a day.

I don't stay up to the wee hours of the morning. I get up in the wee hours of the morning. I also work July 5th, so setting off sonic booms after midnight is not how you get on my good side.

I've had worse years. The year the college students in the rental across the way shot Roman candles at each other at 2 AM. The year the neighbors right behind me shot bottle rockets (then illegal in the city and now illegal in the state) into my back yard because they were trying to be sneaky. Last year when the drought and 100 degree temperatures weren't enough to prevent anyone from using open flames because, apparently, some people can't live without being completely stupid at least once a year.

My favorite year was the year thunderstorms shut down the fireworks display at the lake. No one could shoot anything in that deluge. I slept like a well-fed baby.

For the most part, my neighbors behaved themselves. Only one household three houses down was determined to celebrate personally, but they set off enormous, loud explosions in their backyard starting at 7:30 and didn't stop until about 12:30 (half an hour after the fireworks curfew). On the other hand, they did stop finally so I could get four hours of sleep.

Neighbors behind me left their poor dog on the back porch until sometime around 11:30. I assume they went to the lake for the evening. It howled and howled for four hours straight. If I didn't think they'd be the kind to sue, I would have trespassed, stolen the dog for the night and brought it back this morning with a lecture.

This year we've had enough rain that I wasn't overly concerned about burning alive in my bed. I just can't sleep through that kind of battlefield noise. I also have the weekend to look forward to, when the morons who don't care about law and order illegally set off all the fireworks they'll buy at half-price today.

I don't know whether I should hope work is boring or exciting. Either way, I'll be half-asleep.

Happy Friday, dear readers. And Happy Birthday, America. Love you. Hate your inconsiderate party guests.

I'm Breezy

Weird thing happened last night.

Let me back up. A weird thing has been happening all week. I've been thinking about stories. Snatches of dialog have cropped up in my brain randomly throughout the past few days.

That's how I write. I start with dialogue and expand into description if the dialogue is worth keeping.

This hasn't happened in a while. My brain has been mushed pretty much all year, so I don't know why it would choose this moment to firm up. 

Last night's weird thing was I opened the laptop and started reading Kerby's POV in Price of Justice with the intention of adding something.

TT: Y'all don't know Kerby yet, but you will. You will.

I even feel like adding a little more today. Nothing huge. Nothing ground-breaking. Just a little forward momentum where no momentum has existed for a considerable amount of time.

This isn't a plunge back into relationship. I'm not ready to pick up where we left off. I'm breezy.

We'll just see where it goes.

Mental Exhaustion

Writing has been less than a trickle here at the Turtle household. I've set aside the becoming-more-ridiculously-complicated-every-time-I-look-at it Price of Justice for the moment, and geared up the simpler (I hope) and funnier (I hope) Dangling Participles, which shall be henceforth renamed - something else. Can't remember at the moment, but it has to do with "justice."

See, that's where my brain is. Mush. Can't remember words. Can't remember yesterday. Why is that?

When I wrote Star of Justice, and Daughter of Anasca, for that matter, I worked at Florists' Review as the customer service representative. I answered phones, took orders, opened mail, handled the deposits: standard administrative stuff. I loved doing it, too, but the brain power necessary was, shall we say, less than that required by a monkey opening a banana. I could come home and devote two or more hours to heavy thinking because I hadn't done any during the day.

I switched jobs in 2011. I was File Clerk #6 and I handled all the new business entity filings for the State of Kansas. As far as types of business entities, if they were sold at Walmart, you could buy them all at the express checkout without guilt, but the Big Six were the most common filings: LLCs, corps, not for profit corps, and their foreign counterparts. "Foreign" in this context is any entity not born in Kansas.

That brain rearrange took a little time, and my writing suffered. Can't plan new worlds and snappy dialogue while reviewing the LLC statute to determine who can and can't be listed in the "member" line on the form. At least, I can't.

Just as new filings were becoming second nature and a tiny bit boring, I switched jobs again. Yes, I'm a dumbass, but the pay was better and theoretically the work was more interesting. I'm now the Audit Administrator for the state (although I'm lobbying for "Graveyard Investigator") and the brain power required has increased exponentially.

Not only am I learning statutes about how to do my job, I'm reviewing and creating new ways to track cemetery income and outflow for permanent maintenance funds and merchandise trusts. If those phrases mean nothing to you, welcome to the Dumbass Club. They meant nothing to me last September, either.

I'm getting a handle on the newness of it all, and I suspect one day the job will be boring as Ivory soap, but at this moment in time, I don't have a brain cell to spare for being creative in the written world. I spent Monday staring at a spreadsheet trying to work out how to track 20 year payment plans of $5 a month on multiple pieces of merchandise whose costs are refigured at least once a year to maintain 50% of retail value. If that sentence means nothing to you, yeah, welcome to my world. I collapsed when I got home and stared at the ceiling for an hour before falling asleep for the night. Thankfully, I did not dream of spreadsheets.

The old File Clerk #6 position looked pretty comfy Monday. 

The simple truth is I need to stop feeling guilty for having no brain left when I come home. I wanted this job, I like the money and I intend to do it well. By October, I'll have been through every cemetery on my books at least once and I'll have (God, please let it be so) developed some kind of tracking mechanism for all of them. After that, my brain can relax a bit and start mulling other things, like lawsuits for all those cemeteries doing it wrong.

Just kidding. Except I'm not.

Happy Wednesday, dear readers. Remember to put the trash out.

22 Things Happy People Do Differently

I've never heard of these before this morning, don't know where the list came from, but I'm happy (huh-huh) to say they aren't unfamiliar to me as a way to live by grace in Jesus Christ. Yeah, I'm a Christian. I have to bring Jesus into it.



1. Don’t hold grudges.
2. Treat everyone with kindness.
3. See problems as challenges.
4. Express gratitude for what you already have.
5. Dream big.
6. Don’t sweat the small stuff.
7. Speak well of others.
8. Never make excuses.
9. Get absorbed into the present.
10. Wake up at the same time every morning.
11. Avoid social comparison.
12. Choose friends wisely.
13. Never seek approval from others.
14. Take the time to listen.
15. Nurture social relationships.
16. Meditate.
17. Eat well.
18. Exercise.
19. Live minimally.
20. Tell the truth.

21. Establish personal control.

22. Accept what cannot be changed.

Happy Wednesday, dear readers. Don't sweat the small stuff. 

Loss of Interest

I wonder if I'll ever regain my equilibrium.

The secret to longevity appears to be zeal. I think it was Art Linkletter who interviewed on Focus on the Family some years ago about his zest for life. He was a man who woke up a 3:30 AM to prepare a news cast and kept going until midnight every day of his life, apparently. He loved meeting new people, and learning new things and rounding every corner he encountered. His interest kept him alive for 97 years. I'm sure of it.

My grandfather never sat around. He was a farmer most of his life, but even when he retired, he gardened. He went to the community center to play pool. He mowed lawns well into his 90's although he had to rest between each strip.

My dad couldn't stand to be idle. He spent his evenings in the garage building things we later played with on the weekends: a pontoon boat, a dune buggy, a roadster, a small plane. He didn't sit around.

My brothers got the itch. Their lives are whirlwinds of activity and the only time they lie down, apparently, is when they fall down from exhaustion.

TT: They would assure me that is no way to live, but from this side of the fence, it looks pretty green some days.

Why am I not like that? Why do I look at the world and sigh? The depression is over, I'm sure, yet I fear this is as good as I will ever feel, which is worse than the last time I went through this 15 years ago. I wake up with what I'll call "generalized anxiety." My eyes open and my stomach turns over as I wonder what horrible thing I'm not prepared for will attack me.

I work in The Swamp, and I love it, but the loss of a bean plant brings on tears, recrimination and heart ache. I sit down to write and get up again with nothing written. The zeal isn't there anymore. When I started blogging, I couldn't post fast enough. Now, I struggle not to bore myself as well as you with repetition. 

I'm empty. I keep hoping the well is refilling without my noticing, but I sound hollow when I test the depths. I ask God to give me His purpose, but I must not be listening hard enough for His answer.

I've reduced my stress load once again by resigning from one of my social groups. I'm hoping that frees up some emotional resources.

I thought I'd get stronger and more capable as I aged. I feel like I'm growing weaker and more anxious.

Somewhere ahead is inspiration. I just need to keep waking up to find it.

Happy Monday, dear readers. Thank God for His direction in your life. Without it, you're lost.   

Friday Update

The Week of Severe Weather is almost over. Thank God.

It hasn't been that bad for me personally. The tornadoes that formed in Kansas, although big (EF2 and EF3) were far to the west or north and impacted very limited areas, although they impacted those a lot. The worst so far was the weather radio going off every 15 minutes starting at 2:30 this morning to tell me it was hailing.

Here's a hint: I already knew that. Hail makes a very distinctive sound against the roof, the rain gutters and my van. The Swamp isn't quite as upright and colorful as it was last night.

Really wish the phone camera hadn't chosen the screen as its focal point.

I am grateful for God's protection. My storm phobia continues to abate with a lot of prayer and behavioral reconditioning. I'm making progress.

Last week's cold has hung on and hung on, and I'm taking cold meds again. I'll suffer from dry mouth, but I can't take the headache and stuffy nose anymore. I hope the upset stomach will go away, too, but no guarantee on that.

I'm planning on going back to a strict blood-type diet until I feel better. No wheat, no red meat, no potatoes, no tomatoes. Lots of red fruit, greens, rice and fish until I get my immune system back. It's hard to eat a salad when I'm nauseated, but I'll try. The Swamp is swimming in my Early Spring Mix Lettuce. Bit of a hint at how off our weather is when Early Spring Mix is growing well in late May.

I'm in the final stretch of proof-reading P.A. Baines' second book, Alpha Redemption. This one's a keeper so far. I hope to have that finished this weekend and get back to proof-reading a second Splashdown book slated for publication this year.

Happy Friday, dear readers. Eat those greens and keep your head down.

Under Stress

Except for NAF posts, I haven't been around much, have I?

I'm having one of those mornings where I wander around almost starting things and getting distracted by the other thing I ought to do first. I should write a blog post, but I should run the sprinkler at the same time, but that means I should put clothes on, but I don't know what to wear, and I can write a post in my night clothes. So it goes.

I've been under stress lately. Not nervous breakdown levels, but persistent, pervasive stress. Stress at work. Stress with a group I belong to. Stress with the weird weather and my plans for The Swamp. Even stress with Zynga, which has led to the much-needed and long-awaited weaning from Farmville and the stress that comes with losing that outlet. Even my mouse is causing me stress. I think it's broken. It keeps over-clicking things, which may have led to my stress with Zynga.

Long ago, I would have relieved my stress by bringing it to this blog and venting for a while. I can't really do that anymore.

My job is confidential. I am the cemetery and funeral home auditor for the State of Kansas (they won't let me call myself Graveyard Investigator, but I keep trying). I look at bank records and whatnot to make sure the money people prepay for their funerals is where it needs to be to fund those funerals when they happen.

Yeah. I don't know how I got this gig, either.

Anyway, I can't just show up here and pop off every time I get irritated at work. It's unprofessional, and inappropriate and I plain won't do it. Same goes for the group I'm working with. I can't vent here. People in that group could read this blog. It's unlikely, but possible. Unfortunately, I don't have anyplace else to pop off. I've lost My Dear Friend to new love, my Best Friend to her job and family (not her fault, she's a teacher), and the Fam have lives of their own, although I truly appreciate their efforts to include me. Turtles don't clump.

I studied Human Development in college. When we got to this age, the 40-50 range, I remember thinking, "That'll be my time. My married friends (even then, I knew I wouldn't marry) will be launching their children. They'll have more time for socializing, for rediscovering the world outside their little nests."

Didn't occur to me all my friends would be divorced and working on creating new nests with totally different people. This is why you can't count on humans. They continuously interrupt your plans.

Happy Thursday, dear readers. Put your good clothes on. You'll need them today.

Where to Start?

Ah, the trials of writing the Epic Fantasy. I dissect it a bit over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

The Perfect 10...K (vs the 150K)

I discuss a growing pet peeve over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

Warm Monday

This morning I awoke to temperatures that apparently will be higher than the highest temp for the week starting Wednesday. We have a chance of snow (yes, in May) and a chance of frost. Winter won't let go in Kansas.

I'm going to try to stop talking/writing about it. I'm tired of listening to myself, so I know you all are tired of hearing about it. You're cold, too. And if you're not, I suggest you keep it to yourself. I'm in no mood.

I bought a van-load of flowers this weekend, some perennials, some annuals. I have until Tuesday to get them in the ground before the snow and frost will kill them. I'm writing this while I wait for the sun to come up. I can get a few planted before work. I'm going to spend as much time outside during the next two hot, sunny days that I can.

It occurred to me yesterday my sleepless nights might be caffeine-related. Due to the cold weather, I've been drinking hot tea in the evenings and hot lattes whenever someone offers. That all stops. I'll drink hot water instead. I also took Valerian root last night and slept until 4:30 without waking up for the first time in seven days.

While turning the compost piles yesterday, I realized I may not get any more shreddable leaves out of last year's bags to use as mulch. Thanks to the rain and snow - yes, I'm trying to be grateful - the compost is composting quickly. If I don't add more to the pile I've got, I might get usable compost in a few weeks at this rate, and that's as good as mulch, I guess.

Well, the sun's up and I can see the ground. That means I'm out into The Swamp to plant.

Happy Monday, dear readers. Catch a few rays if you can and think of me.

Relief in Sight?

I'm tired - literally and figuratively - of waking up around 1 to 2 AM and not going back to sleep. It's happened to me every night this week, so it's little wonder why I'm bouncing back slower than usual.

I don't like it when my schedule gets disrupted. Maybe it's my propensity for motion sickness, but turning my world upside down makes me angry and upset. I don't like being out of control and I avoid it whenever possible. Not saying this is a good thing. Just sayin'.

TT: Most people would agree with the above statement, but it's been my observation that most people handle stress better, or invite it into their lives faster, than I do. Why else would people marry and have children? Or join social clubs? Or date? Pure chaos, all of it.

All the areas of my life are swirling this week. The job is getting more stressful, and, while answers are coming, they don't seem to be coming fast enough, which leads to stress about failing at what I do. Normally, I would go out into the garden to restore some perspective, but the weather has been less than cooperative, which leads to more stress. Finally, my "alone" time is being infringed by social demands I'd rather not meet but must, which leads to more stress.

In short, I'm having a bad week.

However, I have learned that eventually everything smooths out again. Stress, like life, is cyclical.

Happy Friday, dear readers. I feared it wouldn't come but here it is. Let's make the best of it. 

Why Writers Are to Writers As Florists Are to Florists

This has been floating about in my head for a while. Decided to let it out over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

No Stress Relief for the Weary

I garden to reduce stress. That hasn't been working for me lately.

For the third time this month, I have covered my lilac bush with pillow cases to protect the five potential blossoms from killing frost. Why? Because that lilac has never bloomed before. Thirteen years it's lived here without blooming, and the first year it tries, we get 25 degree lows and 40 degree highs in April on a regular basis.

I've laid awake this month thinking about the garden. How to protect the plants. When to harden the seedlings. How many more should I plant because these might be frozen to death in May? When can I shred leaves that won't result in electrocuting myself or ruining my Leaf Hog? Is the whole year going to be wet and cold or should I buy mulch while I can because May will launch the Summer of 100 Days of 100 Degrees?

I'm not kidding. I'm more stressed about The Swamp this month than I have been the last two years of my depression.

I have no business being upset. We desperately need the rain, so if it comes with unseasonably cold temperatures, I should just suck it up. Lower temps also mean less likelihood of damaging storms, so I'm getting a pass on storm phobia in April. That should make me happy. It doesn't.

I want Winter to be over. I want sun-drenched Kansas skies, not snow. I want to open my windows and stop paying heating bills for one month before I have to pay air conditioning bills.

Most of all, I want my lilac to bloom this year. I don't think that's too much to ask.

The Swamp April 22, 2013

If the universe revolved around me, I'd say some Higher Power doesn't want me to grow beans this year. I'm pretty sure the four I planted outside are dead, the seven Skamper chewed on are near dead and the twelve more seeds I planted last week aren't sprouting. Even if they were, I wouldn't have a place to put them because we seem caught in the Groundhog Daymare of a cold front a week sweeping in snow and freezing temperatures. In late April. In Kansas.

In the way of humans, I'm not rejoicing that all but one pea plant is doing well. I even like peas better than beans. What I don't like is failure, and, yes, apparently I believe I have the power to make things grow.

This weekend involved a myriad of projects. The south side planting was intended to be low maintenance, but when bermuda grass is involved, there's no such thing. I've not fought it as hard as I should because I don't like being on the south side of the house. It's hot and the neighbors are weird over there. But, those neighbors are selling their house, so I need to pretty up the south side.

I've broken my own rule and started using grass killer. It's really the only way to keep bermuda grass in check. If you're not familiar with this Kansas jewel, bermuda grass grows anywhere, spreads through seeds and runners (both above and below ground) and can smother existing plants in less than one season. I hate it. I don't know if it's a native plant or an invasive import, but it's a pain in any gardener's back and I will do what's necessary to kill it.

The south side has barberries, a rose bush, lamb's ear (unintentional but it thrives, so I'm leaving it) and maroon chrysanthemums. The mum had split into several tiny mums so I transplanted them. Now I have to mulch and water heavily this year to keep them, but it's worth it. I'll be checking on the stupid grass anyway.

Sunday saw more transplanting. I broke up a healthy patch of lemon thyme. If the basil I planted lives (highly doubtful at this time), it also goes into the herb bed. The bees and I loved the basil last year, so I hope to triple the number of plants I put in. You can't really see the thyme in this pic, but this is the herb bed. The containers hold my "peas in a pot" seedlings. Glad they're cool weather plants.

Finally, I did something I've meant to do for a while and broke up a few big clusters of plants into several small clusters of plants.

The far left plant is a pink shrub rose. I'll regret putting it here because it grows like bermuda grass and sports more thorns than your average cactus, but it survived the arborists, so I kinda respect it. The green onion looking things are daffodils. Wrong time of year, I know, but the weather thinks it's fall, so I'm going with it. I divided the grape hyacinths, too. The bright green babies are variagated hostas, and the fluffy, parsley looking things are true geraniums, bloody cranesbill by common name. The only problem is these are shade plants and this spot is no longer shady. They may all die in a month or two, but they survived last year's drought and 100+ temps, so they may not. I'll mulch the crap out of them, too.

My biggest garden concern this year is the lack of earthworms. I don't know where my little garden buddies have gone, but I've found precious few. I can only assume I'm not mulching enough to give them cool, moist earth to work. That will change this year.

Happy Monday, everybody. If you see the sun, think of me. I'll be dreaming of seeing it again.

The Swamp April 16, 2013

Since the only part of Spring showing up this year is the longer days, I've decided I'll garden anyway. Yesterday I pulled on my sweatshirt and heavy socks before trudging out back after work. If it's not raining tonight, I'll use earmuffs, too. Would you believe we have a chance of accumulating snow by Thursday night? Normally, we'd be in the 70's.

I spent about two hours unwinding from a day with cemeteries by - what to call it? cleaning the garage? It's going to take about four weeks' worth of trash pickup for that to happen, but I started.

See, I like my newest van, and I'm concerned about hail damage, but I have never, ever parked one of my vehicles in my garage. The garage is sliding off its foundation and down the gentle slope of my back yard, so the door is tricky and not worth fighting with on a daily basis.

TT: I wish I had the expertise to repair the garage. Whenever I ask a man/contractor, I get a look that, well, let's just say I'm tired of getting that look. To my untrained eye, I need to jack up the building, remove the broken concrete slab with a jackhammer, pour a new slab and new concrete supports and put the garage back down. Then I could have a solid garage I could electrify and convert from a wild animal shelter to an actual place for my vehicles. However, I don't know how to do any of that and most men seem to believe the cheaper and easier version is to demolish the garage and put up a new one. That's assuming I could get a permit for another garage, something I'm not convinced I could do. Not many houses around here comparable to mine have garages. Since I'm not made of gold, I guess I'll just let it demolish itself.

Where was I?

I have about four cubic yards of horse manure left, and I raided (with permission) the departing neighbors' compost pile for another six, and I dug through my own compost pile until I found the useable stuff way at the bottom, so I'm good with dirt for a bit. I'm setting up all my bins, too. They've been stored long enough. Time to remember who I am.

The four green beans I planted last weekend are hanging on, barely. I don't know if they'll survive snow. Should I pull them up and bring them inside until the weather warms? Except Skamper has a taste for beans now. I doubt they'd survive him. Another excellent reason to have a garage.

Oh, well. This post has turned into a bit of a downer. My apologies.

After filling my trash bin with garage overflow, I mowed the lawns. I need to rake up fall debris out front to add to the compost bins and maybe do some reseeding, but I have seed and dirt, so that's doable. While mowing the tiny strip in the back, I saw the seeds I planted in March are sprouting. That pleases me.

I finished the evening's workout with the section of garden around the "Early Girl" tomato plant, where I pulled enormous dandelions, worked compost into the soil and set up the beginning of the support trellis. That's the trick with The Swamp. One bite at a time, one bed at a time, one plant at a time.

It's a journey, not a destination. We'll grow beautiful and strong together.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Look for the happy today. We all need it.

The Longer I Live the More I Wanna Be a Zombie

Forget vampires. Vampires have become the yell leaders of the undead, sparkling their way around high school campuses and charming the blood out of the down-trodden.

That's too social for me. The more I interact with people, the more I see the bonus in eating them alive and moving on.

Why do people get worse as they get older instead of better? Why don't we get softer? After a lifetime of practicing life, shouldn't we be more patient, more rational, more flexible? That's not been my experience. Add a few years to anybody and you're dealing with an impatient, bitter hardhead. Is this American entitlement at work? The "I'm too old for this ...." syndrome?

Here's a reality check. No one is too old to practice civility.

I suppose it's another manifestation of the Fall and my old nemesis Entropy. Everything falls apart over time.

A nice segueway into a profitable weekend in The Swamp. I've planted lettuces and beets after preparing their bed with horse manure and potting soil. I put out a few of the beans and peas, although I'll have to cover them later in the week when our temps dip below freezing. I knew it was a gamble. Last frost date in Kansas is April 15. I've held a few plants back just in case.

We have unsettled weather for the next few days, which means we may get rain for my new plantings or we may just get frightened by predictions of severe storms. I'm praying for the former and God's grace for the latter.

Finally, I scraped my knee Friday afternoon and I can't describe how much it hurts, even four days later. I'm not kidding. It's kept me awake at night when the blanket rubs across it. Walking hurts. Bending it hurts, sometimes so much my breath catches and my eyes tear. It's been a long time since I've scraped anything and I don't remember this kind of pain. I have no idea what I'm going to wear to work that won't irritate it more.

Which is another reason I'd rather be a zombie. They never worry about what to wear and they don't seem to mind getting limbs ripped off their bodies, let alone a quarter-sized piece of skin.

Yep. Zombie good.  Happy Monday, dear readers.

Your Story, Your Integrity

I'm lecturing elsewhere today. Check it out over at

The New Authors' Fellowship.

A House of Bed

Have I mentioned I tend to go to bed when I'm cold? I should put on a sweater and jump around until I heat up, but that's just not my nature (as my increasing backside will attest).

Warmth has stalled out somewhere to the south of Kansas. Even with a shining sun, we just can't get rid of the north wind. That sends me to bed with an electric blanket instead of outside where The Swamp so desperately needs my attention. This wouldn't be so bad if I did something productive while I'm in there - writing or reading, for example - but I don't. I curl up under the simulated warmth and dream of truly warm days, fresh asparagus and potted peas with blueberries.

Most people think Spring is Summer Lite, but I understand Spring is that mix of Winter and Summer that sometimes means you're happy and sometimes means you're miserable. It's felt a bit miserable the last 10 days.

The sun shines. I'm truly grateful for that.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Put your coats on.