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.
Friday, June 28, 2013
Wednesday, June 19, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
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.
Happy Wednesday, dear readers. Don't sweat the small stuff.
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.
Monday, June 10, 2013
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.
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, May 31, 2013
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
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.
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.
Friday, April 26, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 24, 2013
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
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, April 22, 2013
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, April 8, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, March 25, 2013
A Shovelful of Spring
For the one out of tenth time, the weathermen were right and snow fell in Kansas. Seems it's unusual to have an accumulating snow at this time of year. I shoveled about two inches off my driveway and six inches off my deck (difference between sheltered from wind and not). While it was an easy snow to shovel - dry and fluffy - I managed to strain my lower back for the second time this season. I'll be stretching gently throughout the day.
Two weeks ago, I planted paper egg cartons with dwarf bush peas, mixed basil and purple, yellow and green beans and put them in my guest room greenhouse. The big seeds sprouted in two days (ignore the package germination times; I've not yet found them to be accurate), and the basil finally pushed up Saturday. The trick now is providing enough light to keep the little buggers healthy until April. I plan to buy a stick-up grow light in the next few days, probably after the snow melts. I have more seeds to plant, but those are cool-weather seeds and they can go outside sooner than yellow squash and zucchini.
The Swamp is taking shape. Thanks to increased moisture this year, I'm moving dirt like a pro.
TT: Odd that I've shoveled lots of dirt for several hours over several days without injury, yet a few shovelfuls of basically whipped cream frosting should cause muscle distress.
Unfortunately, the arborists left more clay than soil in their efforts to destroy my yard, so the dirt I'm relocating is not what I would hope. I've been wracking my brain and my bankbook in my plans to get some real dirt faster than I can make it with no green stuff and no water to put in my compost piles. Then God decided to be kind.
One of my co-workers has three horses, a yard of chickens and a willingness to share poop. Once I get some directions, I'll be shoveling like a ranch hand. Here's hoping The Swamp appreciates my efforts by providing more than 14 peas this year.
Since chicken manure is "hot," (high in nitrogen, I guess), it'll go into the existing compost piles, which are in desperate need of some heat. They pile the horse manure for their own gardens, so it should be able to go straight into the garden without distressing the neighbors. Should this influx of natural fertilizer work, I'll post pics of new grass, thriving peas and a field of basil for the bees and my pesto. Should it not work... Well, God willing, there's always next season.
Happy Monday, dear readers. Enjoy the weather, whatever it is. If you're in Kansas, it'll change in 5 minutes anyway.
Two weeks ago, I planted paper egg cartons with dwarf bush peas, mixed basil and purple, yellow and green beans and put them in my guest room greenhouse. The big seeds sprouted in two days (ignore the package germination times; I've not yet found them to be accurate), and the basil finally pushed up Saturday. The trick now is providing enough light to keep the little buggers healthy until April. I plan to buy a stick-up grow light in the next few days, probably after the snow melts. I have more seeds to plant, but those are cool-weather seeds and they can go outside sooner than yellow squash and zucchini.
The Swamp is taking shape. Thanks to increased moisture this year, I'm moving dirt like a pro.
TT: Odd that I've shoveled lots of dirt for several hours over several days without injury, yet a few shovelfuls of basically whipped cream frosting should cause muscle distress.
Unfortunately, the arborists left more clay than soil in their efforts to destroy my yard, so the dirt I'm relocating is not what I would hope. I've been wracking my brain and my bankbook in my plans to get some real dirt faster than I can make it with no green stuff and no water to put in my compost piles. Then God decided to be kind.
One of my co-workers has three horses, a yard of chickens and a willingness to share poop. Once I get some directions, I'll be shoveling like a ranch hand. Here's hoping The Swamp appreciates my efforts by providing more than 14 peas this year.
Since chicken manure is "hot," (high in nitrogen, I guess), it'll go into the existing compost piles, which are in desperate need of some heat. They pile the horse manure for their own gardens, so it should be able to go straight into the garden without distressing the neighbors. Should this influx of natural fertilizer work, I'll post pics of new grass, thriving peas and a field of basil for the bees and my pesto. Should it not work... Well, God willing, there's always next season.
Happy Monday, dear readers. Enjoy the weather, whatever it is. If you're in Kansas, it'll change in 5 minutes anyway.
Wednesday, March 20, 2013
New Life
I love Spring. Had I married, I would have done it on the Vernal Equinox.
Just finished a Bible study series using The Life, by Bill and Anabel Gillham. Interesting stuff. My favorite Bible study leader loves the Gillhams, so I've seen samples of their videos previously, but this time we went through all of them.
Here's the nutshell:
The Fall broke the spiritual connection between man and God and plunged man into spiritual death. Christ's sacrifice restored the spiritual connection. When a man accepts Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come. Bill's favorite verse is Gal 2:20, and you can read that in the link.
OK. We become new. What does that mean? Why, then, do we continue to do what we do not want to do, like Paul laments in Romans 7?
Dr. Gillham, in his Oklahoma way, says we become "spirit critters" when we accept Christ but we remain in our "flesh suits." Our flesh suits have spent however many years being trained to act dead to Christ, because that's what we were, but our flesh doesn't control us. Christ indwells us through the Holy Spirit and Christ leads our mind and will.
Sin can attack from the outside, but it isn't in me anymore. Christ is in me. Christ leads my mind and will. Sometimes sin wins, because it uses first person singular pronouns when it attacks to make me think it's my idea, but my acceptance by Christ remains secure. I am His; He is mine.
That's just semantics, right? What difference does it make?
It's the difference between "good me" fighting "bad me" vs. sin trying to squeeze back into a space already fully occupied by a risen Christ. The war was won by Christ. The little battles are won by allowing Him to occupy my flesh suit and teach me to be the spirit critter He raised from the dead when I accepted His lordship.
Naturally, the videos go into far more depth, and provide the scriptural teachings and in-depth illustrations that bring the idea to life, but I thought I'd give you a taste since I may be writing more about it as I continue to ponder.
Happy Wednesday, dear readers, and Happy Spring. The old has gone. The new has come.
Just finished a Bible study series using The Life, by Bill and Anabel Gillham. Interesting stuff. My favorite Bible study leader loves the Gillhams, so I've seen samples of their videos previously, but this time we went through all of them.
Here's the nutshell:
The Fall broke the spiritual connection between man and God and plunged man into spiritual death. Christ's sacrifice restored the spiritual connection. When a man accepts Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone, the new has come. Bill's favorite verse is Gal 2:20, and you can read that in the link.
OK. We become new. What does that mean? Why, then, do we continue to do what we do not want to do, like Paul laments in Romans 7?
Dr. Gillham, in his Oklahoma way, says we become "spirit critters" when we accept Christ but we remain in our "flesh suits." Our flesh suits have spent however many years being trained to act dead to Christ, because that's what we were, but our flesh doesn't control us. Christ indwells us through the Holy Spirit and Christ leads our mind and will.
Sin can attack from the outside, but it isn't in me anymore. Christ is in me. Christ leads my mind and will. Sometimes sin wins, because it uses first person singular pronouns when it attacks to make me think it's my idea, but my acceptance by Christ remains secure. I am His; He is mine.
That's just semantics, right? What difference does it make?
It's the difference between "good me" fighting "bad me" vs. sin trying to squeeze back into a space already fully occupied by a risen Christ. The war was won by Christ. The little battles are won by allowing Him to occupy my flesh suit and teach me to be the spirit critter He raised from the dead when I accepted His lordship.
Naturally, the videos go into far more depth, and provide the scriptural teachings and in-depth illustrations that bring the idea to life, but I thought I'd give you a taste since I may be writing more about it as I continue to ponder.
Happy Wednesday, dear readers, and Happy Spring. The old has gone. The new has come.
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Dream a Little Dream
I awoke from a story dream this morning. One of those dreams that sort of makes sense, that has tension and characters and possibility for a writer. Hasn't happened to me in a looooong time.
Put my schedule off. First, because I didn't want to wake up. I wanted to see how it played out, which isn't easy to do with Focus on the Family interrupting on the alarm clock.
Second, because I had to write it down. I have to write it down. I'll absolutely forget the whole thing before I shower if I don't. Of course, I had to capture the feelings when I wrote it down. Details don't matter much in dreams, although some details make it fun. It's the feelings I'd convey later, should I play around with this subconscious plot attempt.
I started fleshing it out. What would this story look like? Who are these characters and why are they here? Should I stick with the reality of what I saw or go for some symbolism, which, let's face it, is what comprises most dreams? All kinds of choices.
Farmville got in the way (shocking). Kept having freezing issues with the program.
Thinking about this potential story got me thinking about Price of Justice, and Rhami's dilemma, and how easy it would be to solve. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Is that what I want to do, though? Is it good drama or real life? I should write a short story about how Rhami wed Galena. I could publish it in a collection with other backstory shorts set in Ah'rahk. What would I call my publishing company if I ever self-published? What would my publishing logo look like? Why can't I find anything to wear? Don't I know I have a meeting today with strangers? I have to look professional. I've got to get gas, too, maybe at lunch. The weatherman says snow is coming mid-week, and it will be the one-in-ten chance he's right if I don't put gas in the van.
Yep. That's how it goes sometimes, and that's why I'm glad I wrote it down.
Happy Tuesday. Sweet dreams.
Put my schedule off. First, because I didn't want to wake up. I wanted to see how it played out, which isn't easy to do with Focus on the Family interrupting on the alarm clock.
Second, because I had to write it down. I have to write it down. I'll absolutely forget the whole thing before I shower if I don't. Of course, I had to capture the feelings when I wrote it down. Details don't matter much in dreams, although some details make it fun. It's the feelings I'd convey later, should I play around with this subconscious plot attempt.
I started fleshing it out. What would this story look like? Who are these characters and why are they here? Should I stick with the reality of what I saw or go for some symbolism, which, let's face it, is what comprises most dreams? All kinds of choices.
Farmville got in the way (shocking). Kept having freezing issues with the program.
Thinking about this potential story got me thinking about Price of Justice, and Rhami's dilemma, and how easy it would be to solve. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Is that what I want to do, though? Is it good drama or real life? I should write a short story about how Rhami wed Galena. I could publish it in a collection with other backstory shorts set in Ah'rahk. What would I call my publishing company if I ever self-published? What would my publishing logo look like? Why can't I find anything to wear? Don't I know I have a meeting today with strangers? I have to look professional. I've got to get gas, too, maybe at lunch. The weatherman says snow is coming mid-week, and it will be the one-in-ten chance he's right if I don't put gas in the van.
Yep. That's how it goes sometimes, and that's why I'm glad I wrote it down.
Happy Tuesday. Sweet dreams.
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