Jim just took Tuco to the vet to be executed. Poor old dog has been yelping at night and wandering around out in the cold. He doesn't get up to do his business any more and will pee all over himself. He's shivering non-stop. I moved the portable heater that I use on my feet into the library for him this morning but it didn't seem to do much for him. He hasn't been eating. I saw him get a drink but his stomach is bloated, according to Jim, and he's not passing much. Poor old dog. He can barely see, hears very little, and has a hard time getting around. He's been spending a lot of time down by the garden fence. The sun hits it and reflects the heat and the dogs and chickens go down there during the day to take advantage of the warmth. He was down there for hours yesterday, leaning back on it with his muzzle to the sun. Poor old dog. I got up at four something last night to spend time with him and settle him down. He was crying. He finally went to sleep and I wrapped him in his blanket. His breathing is very slow. Slower than mine. I really thought he would die last night. I finally went back to bed at 5:15 when it was apparent that he was asleep. Poor old dog. Jim took him in the big cat carrier on his favorite blanket. I pet his head and made much of him and told him goodbye and that I was sorry. It's a hard decision to make but I think I can safely say there is absolutely no quality of life left. I made Jim promise that he would pet his head while they were giving him the needle and to stay with him while he died. Hopefully Tuco won't be too afraid. I hated taking Bastet. She was afraid of the people, the other animals, the smell, the sounds. But she could no longer move around and was peeing on herself, too. For a few days I rolled her bed to the potty tray and she was able to drag herself in and out but eventually that proved too difficult for her. She missed Goliath too much and didn't want to live any more.
And so now Jim is going to go through what I did with her. I couldn't stand to go through it again. It's not an entirely peaceful way to go. So, Tuco will be buried in the back yard next to Chigliak. He'll be in a spot where his remains won't be disturbed. Jim and I got Tuco before we were married. He was a pound hound in Danville. Already an adult and now about fifteen years later he's finally giving out. Plagued with seizures and skin problems, it's a wonder he lasted this long. He would have been the world's worst hunting dog. I'd have to laugh every time I saw him "chasing" a squirrel. I'd see a squirrel go hippity hopping across the patio, say from left to right, and then Tuco would run through baying at the top of his lungs, going in the opposite direction. The dog couldn't catch a cold. He was loud and smelly but I'll still miss him.
Poor old dog. When I told Alex what was going to happen to Tuco today she said he's been mostly dead for years. She's right. I thought he was going to cash in his chips a long time ago.
Our neighbour Charlie will miss him. He always calls Tuco, old dog Jack.

Well, I guess I can't say too much more about Tuco. Named for Eli Wallach's character in the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Tuco Ramirez. Our Corgi is named after the Clint Eastwood role, Blondie. And now we have a mishmash terrier named after another Clint Eastwood character, Dirty Hairy Callahan. I wonder if the other dogs will miss Tuco or wonder where he's gone. They both knew he wasn't well. They never bothered him or tried to play with him. I guess they knew he wasn't interested in that stuff. They never tried to take away his food either. It was as if they respected him a little bit. I'd like to think so any way. Old dog Jack. Poor old dog.
That'll be it for dogs for awhile. No more animals. Even though Alvin, the cat from two doors down, is trying very hard to become a member of our family. Jim has drawn the line.
Goodbye Tuco.

Prompt: New name. Let's meet again, for the first time. If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be and why?

Cat. That's who I used to be. I liked her. She was a lot of fun. But then she got married and got serious and had a child and somehow the middle aged married mom swallowed her whole. Sometimes she tries to get out but the mum in sensible shoes is able to squash her back down where no one can see or hear her anymore.
I miss her.

Prompt: 5 minutes. Imagine you will completely lose your memory of 2010 in five minutes. Set an alarm for five minutes and capture the things you most want to remember about 2010.

2010 was a bad year. If I could wipe it out of my mind I'd do so. Even so, my entire five minutes would be made up of images of our vacation in Banner Elk, NC. We had done the touristy stuff the year before. This year was just hiking the trails. It had apparently rained quite well right before we arrived and there were water falls everywhere. Every fissure in the great slabs of rock that lined the road ways were weeping. Having left our area that was deep in the clutches of a hot, baking drought, the intense green of the Blue Ridge Parkway took my breath away. Every surface was cool and moist, emerald green moss and delicate ferns were everywhere. The difference was like night and day. I remember one morning we hiked up to a lookout and to get there we had to walk through a fairly thin woods. It was so quiet. The clouds were low, around my ankles low. The swirling mist felt good against my face. I felt like I was the only one on the mountain that morning. When we finally got to the lookout we could see nothing but dense cloud cover. You could barely make out the shapes of trees below us. My husband and my daughter and I decided to have our lunch early, sitting on the cool stones, waiting for the sun to burn off the morning mist. A lady from Ohio stopped by, we chatted for a bit, and then the fog swallowed her up. Once again we were alone. It was an odd feeling. I rather liked it. I imagined myself living in the area and taking walks like that every day. Having a small farm with a horse, chickens, a big garden. A creek running through it. It sounds like heaven to me. I swear if school wasn't an issue I'd start looking for a piece of property right now. On the desktop of my computer I have our local weather listed as well as Banner Elk. Plus, I can pull up the weather cam, http://www.highcountrywebcams.com/hwy184/livecam.html, and see what's going on downtown. They've decorated for Christmas. That's another thing about the area...Christmas trees...everywhere you look. I believe it must be one of the main sources of income for the area.
Well, I'm sure that my five minutes is up and there's much more that I want to remember about that week. It was wonderful. Kind of offset the rest of the 2010 suckfest to make it bearable. I bet they have snow up to their ass by morning.

School is canceled tomorrow on threat of snow. The kidlet is happy. I'm looking forward to a nice lie in. I've got to make cookies tomorrow. I bought a ham today and I might just throw that bad boy in the oven, too. No formal Christmas ham here. That will be at Jim's grandfather's house. Ham biscuits the size of postage stamps and every sweet known to man. This weekend is the white elephant party. woohoo. Small woo. Let's just say, it's not my thing. I usually have to leave the party at some point just to wander around and check out the artwork. It's at the clubhouse in the gated community where Jim's mom and new husband live. Unfortunately, there's not that much artwork. It'll be too freaking cold to take off outside.
I guess the impending weather is what brought every crazy in Chesterfield out to the supermarket. Kroger was slammed packed to the gills with people who acted as if they were the only ones shopping. Wall to wall. I helped one lady wrestle 150 pounds of dogfood into her cart. She was very pleasant. And joked around with an older lady about the run on cheese. The shelves were bare! Most every one else was in a foul mood it seemed. I guess Christmas means something different to them than it does to me.
Picked up some stocking stuffers for my kidlet. No giant box of nerds this year. I think she still has the box from last year. She has candy stashed all over the place. Halloween candy, christmas candy, and even valentines candy. And not just crap candy either. The kid has CHOCOLATE BARS for pete's sake. It's all I can do to keep myself from flipping her room in search of a kitkat. Hopefully she'll keep that willpower until she's old and gray.
Candy hoarder. I guess there are worse things to be.

Prompt: Appreciate. What's the one thing you have come to appreciate most in the past year? How do you express gratitude for it?

That would have to be the husband. Every once in awhile he disappoints me but he never lets me down. He's one of those long suffering types. I don't know how to express gratitude for him. He gets mad when you thank him or make much of him. I make cookies that I know he'll like, cook his favourite meal occasionally, make sure he has clean clothes. There's not much you can do for him that will illicit any kind of response. He's a flatliner. So the best I can hope to do is just make sure stuff is done around the house. If there is something I'm not doing he tends to tell me. Yeah, sometimes I feel like the help but what the hell. I can do whatever I want. I don't have to punch a clock anywhere...well...besides 7:00 p.m. So I am grateful that he goes to work every day and makes sure that the kidlet and I are healthy, have whatever pills we need, that sort of thing. It doesn't sound like much but I am very thankful that he is in my life.

Prompt: Body integration. This year, when did you feel the most integrated with your body? Did you have a moment where there wasn't mind and body, but simply a cohesive YOU, alive and present?

WTF? I'm not really sure what this prompt means. The only thing I can think of that might even relate to this is the way I felt after hiking to the top of a trail on the
Blue Ridge Parkway and having a stunning view. Heart beating, legs aching, a good steady breeze in my face, and clean fresh crisp air filling my lungs.
That's it.

Some of these prompts aren't speaking to me. It's 3:42, cold and rainy, and it looks like 6:00. In a bit I'll need to get up and take the camera outside so I can chase off the vultures. The neighbour killed a deer and threw the carcass in his backyard. The hundred or so vultures that come to roost in my front yard every night have no reason to even leave now. Dumbass. They don't like the camera flash at all and it really drives them in a tizzy. It's an awesome sound to have that many large birds taking off at once, crashing through the treetops, hissing. Kind of freaky, too. If I miss the small window of opportunity they will be there all night. I hate to disturb Pip who is asleep on my lap. She throws off a tremendous amount of heat. I wish I could get her to sleep on my feet at night. :o)

December 11 – 11 Things What are 11 things your life doesn’t need in 2011? How will you go about eliminating them? How will getting rid of these 11 things change your life? (Author: Sam Davidson)

1. Continuing with my packrat mentality. I'm not a hoarder like my parents but I feel a moral obligation to reduce, reuse and recycle. It kills me to have to buy things at the grocery store that are packaged in #5 or #6 plastic because I can't recycle that stuff. I try to reuse it for seed trays and what not but honestly, there's just too much of it. I'll use a ziplock baggie nearly 20 times before it goes in the trash. Just knowing that it'll still be around long after I'm dead does my head in. So, in 2011 I will do my best not to buy items that are overpackaged or in something that I can't recycle.
2. Too much alone time. I can very easily fall into a cycle that keeps me home, only going out when I need to pick up milk or whatever. In 2011 I'll try to get out more.
3. More books. I love books. I feel better when surrounded by books. But I have to stop adding to the stash. I think deep down I'm compensating for something that is lacking. I need to find out what that something is and stop building my wall of books.

Ok, three is about it for me. There are other things I'd like to eliminate from my life in 2011 but unfortunately I'm stuck there. Grin and bear it type stuff. Besides, this exercise in negativity is counter productive in my opinion. I really don't have that much in my life that I feel needs to be eliminated. I guess that's a good thing.

Prompt: Wisdom. What was the wisest decision you made this year, and how did it play out?

Not to hang on to the Perlock property for rental income. The house (two apartments) sold for a fairly decent price despite the awful real estate economy and the general condition of the building. The extra income would have been nice but it would have been the biggest headache. Something was always needing to be fixed, the renters didn't always pay and had to be taken to court. Having lived there for a few months right when the kidlet was born was enough for me to never want to set foot in that hole again.

Party is the reverb10 prompt for today. I'm just not feeling it. I attended a couple of social events but none rocked my socks off. I much prefer sitting out on the patio with my husband and little girl, building a fire in the firepit and roasting marshmallows after it gets dark. To me it doesn't get much better than that. I like the way my clothes smell of wood smoke, the sound of the fire crackling, the occasional loud pop of a section of bamboo giving way. The dogs fight over custody of the husband's lap. Nevermind that they both weigh over thirty pounds and are about as far away from being lap dogs as you can get. Sometimes even the chickens come around to see what's going on. It's very intimate. We talk, we read, we do the crossword. Sometimes we play cards. I'd take that over some posh soiree any day.

Prompt: Beautifully different. Think about what makes you different and what you do that lights people up. Reflect on all the things that make you different - you'll find they're what make you beautiful.

Beautiful? Lighting people up? Those phrases would never be used to describe me. Not by anyone. It would be worth a chuckle if it wasn't so pathetic. I've always been a bit dark and serious, not by choice I assure you. Blame it on circumstance. Blame it on geography. Blame it on always being the new kid. Nature versus nurture if you'd like. Last in line of a dysfunctional family. Parents antisocial isolationists. Sociopath siblings. It's a wonder I'm not crouched in a corner playing with my drool. I've never been able to shake that darkness. It clings to me like soot. I smile, I wave, I play nice but it doesn't matter. It's like wearing one of those clear plastic masks that only slightly distort your features. People can see through it and know there's something not quite right underneath. But the thing is, there is no mask. I smile because I'm happy. I wave because I'm friendly. I play nice because that's the right thing to do. Sometimes I feel like there is this giant shadow looming just behind me that threatens people. They look at me as if they can't believe I don't know it's there jibbering just behind my back. There has to be, right? What other explanation is there? Animals love me. If I were evil they'd keep their distance.
I'm married, if you can believe that. He's a wonderful man. He's aware of the darkness, can feel the vibe as he calls it. Like a harmonic dissonance, thrumming just below the level of cognitive perception. That sound, that underlying track, that causes anxiety with no perceptual reason. He has the ability to tune it out. He may be the only one. Or maybe he's just tone deaf. His taste in music is questionable.
My darkness also allows me to see the darkness in others. Those people who dazzle everyone else, the life of the party, but whose eyes are flat and glassy. The ever present smile never reaches them. They're like buttons on a child's rag doll. Lifeless. And they know I can see. The shadow behind me recognizes the depth of their darkness and clutching my spine, sends warning bells off in my head. That's when the hairs raise, the flesh dimples. I wonder what their eyes see. Can they see something in me? Do they think they see a kindred spirit or an adversary?

December 7 – Community Prompt: Community. Where have you discovered community, online or otherwise, in 2010? What community would you like to join, create or more deeply connect with in 2011? (Author: Cali Harris)

I have no community. Ten years ago it was very important to me. I invested a lot of time and energy, put a lot of myself into an online community. It ended very badly, such that I cannot put myself into that situation again. I would like to connect more deeply with local members of nanowrimo. Unfortunately, most people who come out for the writing only do so for the month of November and then go back to their normal lives come December. It would be nice to meet other writers on a regular basis just to kick back. Not necessarily discuss writing, our projects, or other shop talk. Just take a break from being alone. Writing is generally a solitary act but it doesn't have to be. Perhaps something will get started in 2011. I've read at the nano forums that a few people are trying to form a writing club but it looks like it'll be in Richmond. Out of my way. I can't drive in Richmond, especially at night. Not going to happen. I was pushing it just showing up for the nano kickoff party. My eyesight sucks, especially when I get hit with oncoming headlights. That said, if something started up south of Midlo then I'd be all over it.

Prompt: Make.
I really need to pour it on tonight. I've got 12 minutes until Castle comes on and I don't aim to miss it so either I make it or there is an hour's gap between typing. Damn Toast was screaming to go out but as soon as I got to the door he ran away. He wanted to play. He got the boot. Ten minutes to go.
Ok, back to the prompt. What is the last thing I made? does a mess count? a mistake? I made cookies the other day. Harvest Moons. They are really good. Pumpkin puree with some oatmeal and chocolate chips. Pretty healthy as far as cookies go. Before that I made a banana pudding for the troops. They seemed to like it. Before that I made a pile of things to go to Goodwill. Creative-wise I haven't made anything in awhile. I wrote a few scenes for the novel but is that considered making something? I made a clean spot when I dusted the other day. I won't make that mistake again. I made some disparaging remarks to someone. I made a fool of myself. Wow, I'm busy making things all the time. I made a list of things to do. This was on it. I made it around the block this evening walking the dogs with the husband. I made love with said husband last night. I made a promise to be nicer to him since he's in a blue funk. I made a dent in my email backlog. I made the kidlet clean her room. In the spring I made a cucumber fence out of bamboo that I grew myself. It worked a charm. It couldn't hold back the heat unfortunately and the cucumbers dried up but the fence looks really cool. I'll have to come back to this.
Hey! I made it back. How about that? I made myself a cup of tea. Ok, enough of this. What have I made recently...I made cuttings from plants but I didn't really make anything. Just helped with the propogation a bit. But that's certainly nothing creative. I can't honestly say I've made anything worth while lately. What would I like to make? Ah, well, that's a different story. I want to upholster the old chair that I stripped down to the frame last year. I've got the books. I've got the fabric. I've got the tools. I've got the time. I just can't get my hands on the stuffing or padding. I want to finish at least one of the paintings I started. I just got several ideas for future paintings but refuse to start another until one is completed. Maybe this week. While cookie dough is chilling. I want to start making bread at least once a week. It's super easy to make. You just need about 18 hours for it to sit around and ferment. That doesn't involve me.
In order for me to make these things I'll have to find some motivation somewhere. Right now every ounce of motivation I can scrape up is dedicated to writing. I want to finish the novel. I have to finish the novel. It has gotten too convoluted and the story has to be told. Too many things have happened lately that I can't ignore and tempus fugit. And yet, if I sequester myself in that world too many other things will go pear shaped. I've always heard that moderation is key. See, that never worked for me. When I used to draw I would work on whatever had captured my attention and would not move until it was done. Hours bent over a drawing pad. Everything else stopped. If I stopped for anything then the spell would be broken and the work would go unfinished. Same with the paintings that grace my walls. Undone. So, maybe I should make time. I've made all the excuses. I need to find that focal point where time doesn't exist. I used to know where it was, before I had a family, before people depended on me for anything. I need to get back to that place. I have a feeling that if I could find it I'd be able to get the book done. I'd be able to get a lot done. Not just the mundane every day crap that usually doesn't get done but should. I mean meat and potatoes stuff. The book. I made a world. I made people who live there. Now I have to let them become.

December 5 – Let Go.

What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

I answered this prompt at 750words and it got a bit personal so I can't post it here. I will say that I let go of the idea of having a decent garden during the summer. It's nearly impossible. Drought, bugs, and super hot weather take their toll. Looks like a fall garden is going to be the norm from now on.

I let go of a few books, a few pieces of furniture, my office clothes. Hanging onto clothing that I'll never EVER be able to fit into again because they are nice or because they used to fit doesn't make sense. I know I used to be thin. I know I used to look sharp. That was a long time ago before I had the kidlet. The hips will never be the same. There's more gray hair. Much more. I think I finally let go of my youth as well. It had to happen eventually. Sure beats the alternative.

Prompt: Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

By reading. Lots and lots of nonfiction. I had an idea in my head that one of the main characters in my story was going to have sleep disorders. Narcolepsy, REM sleep behaviour disorder, and I needed to find out how these would affect his every day life. It's a fascinating subject. Did you know that bullfrogs don't sleep at all? Who knew? And the brain paralyzes your body during REM sleep so that you won't hurt yourself by acting out your dreams. Reading about this stuff led me to read some of Carl Jung's theories and, of course, a bit of Freud. I wasn't so much interested in what dreams meant but rather why we dream at all. What purpose do dreams serve? By pursuing a wide range of subjects I was able to keep that spark of wonder alive.

On a different note: I baked cookies today. Harvest Moons. Pumpkin puree, oatmeal, chocolate chips, cinnamon. They turned out fantastic. You make them big. Dropped onto the baking sheet by the 1/4 cup. I cut the sugar by about a cup and it was still quite sweet. I'll certainly make them again.

And then: it snowed this evening. Just a light dusting. Hard to believe I had clothes drying on the line today. The jeans didn't dry completely but it was enough to cut the drying time in the machine which is what I was going for. I managed to remember to close the cold frame tonight, too. The swiss chard and lettuce are doing great. The cabbage is beautiful as well. Next year the majority of my gardening is going to be done in the fall after the bugs have dropped dead. No more planting cabbages for the worms.

Since I didn't get a prompt until the second day I thought I'd combine yesterday's and today's so I'd keep up.

December 2 - Writing.
What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it?
(Author: Leo Babauta)

Just about everything I do during the day has absolutely nothing to do with writing. In fact, it seems the moment I decide to write, I seek those tasks. I wish I could eliminate the drudgery that fills each day. Who wouldn't rather dive head first into a story of mystery and intrigue instead of washing clothes and hanging them on the line to dry? Or scaring themselves silly with a twisted tale of terror instead of cleaning the grout in the shower? That is horrific in itself.


December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

Short and quick to make the deadline...hiking to a spectacular view in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina....somewhere around Banner Elk. Beautiful country. I felt very close to nature. Everything was so green, so cool and alive. Water rushing across rocks, waterfalls sending vapor into the air, shimmering like diamond dust. Lush carpets of moss and ferns.

December 1 One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
(Author: Gwen Bell)

One Word. So many spring to mind. Chaos. Turmoil. Fail. Cancer. None of them really define the year by themselves. Rick died in the spring. Dad was diagnosed with Prostate cancer this fall. I've gained weight. My vision has worsened. The kidlets soccer team came in dead last. Got ripped off by another half-assed contractor. The vultures are back and the flash batteries are always dead. I failed miserably at NaNoWriMo. I read some really crappy novels...The Alchemist...but I also read some really good ones. I had my very first CT scan to diagnose an apparently undiagnosable pain in my head. It was very painful for quite awhile and finally went away after seeing three doctors and a dentist. Maybe it was stress induced. After a month of agony and seventeen ibuprofen a day I sought relief from professionals. Cha-ching.
Positives? Sure. We had a really nice vacation in Banner Elk, NC. Got the ultimate room. Upstairs, downstairs, balconies with views. Super nice. I love the area. It's absolutely beautiful. That was our second trip there. The hiking, the trails, the fantastic scenery never get old. I think I want to move there. Yes, it is that beautiful. The garden did very well this year. Before the bugs and the extreme heat. The potatoes didn't amount to anything and the cucumbers dried up once the heat kicked in. No amount of watering was going to save them. We got a dog in January. Dirty Hairy Callahan. Awesome mutt. She's noisy and playful and so disheveled all the time. She has taught Blondie how to play which I never thought I'd see. So cute. She's also taught Blondie that veggies taste good. The dog will eat anything. We got her from the Richmond Animal League. I saw her picture online and had to get her. Tuco is still hanging in there. He looks like he died months ago but is still tottering around, hacking and coughing and scratching.
So, yeah, the year has been chaotic. I guess that's the word I'm going to choose. It may not be the best, most succinct word, but it'll work.
What word would I like to use next year at this time to encapsulate 2011? I don't know. It has to be one that conveys creativity, success, friendship, fun, happiness, love, contentment, the realization of dreams, and promise. What's another word for synonym?
How about motivated? That seems to encompass most of the above. Next year I'll finish NaNoWriMo. Next year I'll have an even better garden. Next year I'll go out more and make new friends. I'll get involved. I'll create. I'll finish something that I started! Maybe even finish the book. I'll connect with my daughter. I'll boldly go where no homemaker has gone before. The sky's the limit! Rah! Rah! Rah!
But first...I have to get through December. Day by day. Hour by hour. Word by word. I'll start by creating this habit of 750 words a day. They may not be the forehead slapping, eureka! I've got it words but if I can get into the habit of sitting down and actually typing out three pages a day then next year's nano should be a breeze...provided I have a plot. I've got eleven months to come up with something. An idea should be able to burrow into my brain within that time. And maybe I'll learn to turn off the inner critic, stuff her down in some dark quiet spot. Learn that first drafts don't have to be perfect or even make sense all the time. That the first draft's purpose is to get it down on paper so you can come back later during the rewrite and move things around, nail down some continuity, get from A to Z in a readable, lucid manner. I couldn't do it during the month of November but I should be able to do it over six months.
So, the plan is to finish the 750words.com December challenge and the reverb10.com challenge and create a good habit that will carry on through the next year. That will elevate my self esteem and propel me into the next year where the action word will be MOTIVATION. Next year at this time I'll be writing about the awesomeness that was 2011.

reverb10.com Off with a bang, not a whimper. I didn't find the site until 11:44 so I didn't have much time to write anything. I just got done writing my 750 words for www.750words.com. I will follow one of the prompts tomorrow for the reverb10 challenge. Hopefully it'll become a habit. See you tomorrow!

This cat has some serious Jedi Mind tricks. Something compelled me to get up from the kitchen table and go to the front door. Alvin, the neighbour's cat, was staring through the glass, his beady little eyes rivetted on the bag of catfood. The food bowl in my cats' house was empty. He's a fixture here these days. Doesn't miss too many meals. My kid says his people don't feed him. He looks healthy enough to me. My other cats have accepted him as one of the family except Grendal. He doesn't like to share his mom. He'll get over it eventually. Not sure the husband will though.

My dad got his biopsy report back. He has Prostate Cancer. Mom said his Gleason Score was 7. That's all I know. They were going to remove his catheter but ended up putting it back in for another month. That's got to be uncomfortable. He is not seeking treatment. Gonna ride it out to the end however long that may be. Not a good year for my family. Rick dead of cancer in Feb. Dad's second bout with cancer in October. Here, the husband still worries over his skin cancer. It's a wonder Mom hasn't gone off the deep end. I guess I'll be going down there this weekend to help Mom catch up on things. She needs a break. She's been fighting with my half brother SpongeBob lately since he's not doing anything to help out around the place. They really need to kick him, his girlfriend, his wife (and her 17 sickly cats) and stepson to the curb. They better do it soon.

Last night my daughter asked me, "What if it rained chocolate?" I told her I'd be outside with the biggest bucket I could find. I further postulated that if chocolate did indeed rain down by the bucketsful then we would most likely be sick of it. It would become commonplace. She shrugged and took another nibble of her mini Krackel ® bar. It was a silly thought. Pure silliness without a hint of an inner critic.
I wonder what happens to people to make them one day start questioning the practicality of their thoughts. Maybe my daughter will ask a classmate the same question and they'll tell her it's stupid. I guess that's how it may start. It's a shame. As a writer-wannabe I'm always asking myself 'what if' questions trying to come up with a story idea. Most are shot down as "stupid" by my inner critic. Others hit the "it's been done" barricade. I'm sure many flutter at the edges of my brain like ghosts, just wisps of an amorphous thought, and evaporate before I can grab them. Like dreams that fall apart upon waking.
In less than two weeks NaNoWriMo will be in full swing. I should be working on an outline. I've got nothing. Maybe if I eat a bunch of these mini chocolate bars something will come to me...besides five extra pounds around my waistline.

I generally wear different "uniforms" for different jobs. When I'm working outside hacking a trail through the front yard or defoliating a garden bed, I wear my favourite slouchy jeans: men's Tony Hawk. Comfy, rugged, even filthy dirty they look good.
When I'm working in the house it's yoga pants and a tshirt and depending on the chore with which I'm currently occupied, an apron. I'm an apron girl. If I have to go out I'll throw on another pair of equally ratty jeans and my super comfy, red, Land's End mocs. Casual, all the way. Who am I trying to impress, right?
I think I need to change my writing uniform though. My brain sees the yoga pants and habitually starts moving around the house shifting things hither and thither. If I wear jeans I inevitably find myself hoiking weeds out of their homes in the front yard or garden. Apparently the uniform and the brain are deeply entrenched.
The jammies and the bathrobe are not cutting it either. How many mornings has my forehead mashed the keys of my trusty HP Laptop because my brain thought it should still be sleeping? Too numerous to count, I assure you.
Maybe if I treated the writing of my great american novel like an office job. To dress the part I could raid my career stash that fit roughly fifteen years ago, pre-baby. Pantyhose so tight my fingernails turn blue, bunions straining in impractical heels like Dr. David Banner getting ready to hulk-out, a pencil skirt that limits the movement of my legs so I can't even comfortably cross my legs without splitting a seam. Then I force my brain to come up with at least 2,000 legitimate, lucid, and relative to the storyline words before I can shuffle back from the computer, take a shallow breath, and hobble back to the bedroom for a quick change of uniform. Not a 400 item to-do list. Not 800 words of mediocre prose. Not 1,500 words of strained dialogue. 2,000 words of mind altering, life changing, thought provoking, eureka shouting, forehead slapping literature. Every day.
Maybe a nice pantsuit.

Why is it so damned difficult to sit down and write something? After three minutes of staring at a blank page I'm up tending to laundry, dusting, vacuuming or something else, anything else, that will take me away from the computer. What the hell? Yesterday I spent an hour farting around with the cultivator motor trying to figure out how in hell to get to the pull cord without a torx driver. I freshened the bedding in the chicken house. I hung the laundry out on the line. I brought the wool runner in and vacuumed the hell out of it. I made jello. I even tackled the humongous pile of newspaper clippings, magazines, and whatnot on the kitchen table. Anything to keep from writing.
So, why do I even bother? Because the story is there. The characters are real and they're getting older by the day. I can't help but cast a critical eye on the work though. It's hard. You'd think my house would be spotless. It's not. It's as jumbled and cluttered as my brain. My teacup is empty. Again. Just stepped away to let Smudge out and had to reassure Grendal that he was the prettiest cat. Tea is ready. Another five minutes gone. I need to make a good outline with the major points of the story highlighted. Then I have to figure out how to string the action together. Like beads. Big beads for big action. Smaller beads to bridge. Seed beads for the boring spacer bits. A nice silver clasp for the end. And hope that my story doesn't become a really ugly necklace.

Meet Winston Purcell. A little rough around the edges but an alright guy. His job is finding death. He's a cadaver dog handler. He's quiet, serious, a bit closed off. The aftermath of tragedy is a serious business. Of course he's haunted, what leading hero isn't? Everyone has something in their past that they need to accept and overcome. Win's no different. He used to be in Search and Rescue. He turned to cadaver dogs when he could no longer accept that sometimes rescue comes too late. The dead are already dead.
He and Vera worked Ground Zero until they were trapped for several hours in a collapse. Winston was banged up pretty badly. He bears a few scars, both physically and emotionally, from that event. After that they worked Fresh Kills for a few months. In 2005 Hurricane Katrina hammered New Orleans and Winston was called to assist in the recovery of victims from that terrible disaster.
He lives with his dog, Chuck, outside the small town of Ulysses, south of Richmond, VA.

November is coming up quickly and I don't have a solid story idea yet. I've been running 'what ifs' through my head for weeks now and coming up dry. I thought maybe a Dylan-centric novel that could possibly tie in with The Paradoxical Sleep, which was last year's NaNo novel. (Unfinished at 35K) Or maybe Jennifer Runyon, the female lead, could move on to a new adventure. Perhaps she and Winston go on to solve other murders with Chuck the incredible cadaver dog. What if they are called to an old house or hotel or whatever that is purported to be haunted and they are hired to find any human remains. Come up with the solution and work backwards to the crime. Maybe write a story with Dylan and his ability to see flashes of the future. Maybe he moves quite a bit so he doesn't get to know the people who die violently in his visions. Maybe he doesn't watch the news anymore because he's tired of seeing the aftermath of things he wished he could change. He got tired of being treated like a terrorist whenever he would try to stop the inevitable chain of events that came to him without warning.
It seems like each major player has pulled back from other people for different reasons. Winston because of the failed rescue attempt of a little girl. Jennifer because she lost her Marine boyfriend in Iraq. Dylan because death follows him.
I need to come up with a loose outline this time. Last year was way too chaotic for me. I've got three weeks to come up with an idea. The pressure!

Dad is back in the hospital. Has had MRI and CT scans. Will be going to surgery tomorrow for exploratory and biopsy. Dr says to expect bad news. No sugar coating that.

Ok. My ass is in the chair. Finally. 8:17 a.m. I've got a cup of tea in front of me. I've had my morning English Muffin and a single piece of candy corn. The kidlet is off to school. The dishwasher is running. I have a dozen eggs on the boil. The husband got a movie for me last night. Afterlife with Justin Long. He's such a cutie. It's a redbox rental so I need to watch it today and return it today. So, I guess I'm going out for a bit. I need to go by Lowes to get a pull cord for the Troybilt. It finally snapped while the husband was tilling the foundation bed at the front of the house. Have a few other errands as well. But that's neither here nor there. I need to get into the habit of writing everyday. For NaNoWriMo and beyond. So here goes:

A girl of thirteen or fourteen is sitting slumped in a chair. She is pale. People in lab coats are milling around her, woodenly performing their duties as if she was just another piece of equipment in the small room. Her head is covered in something like a swimmer's cap with multicolored dots. Each dot equipped with a docking port for electrodes. A middleaged woman with hair the color of tarnished brass is inserting a hypo into each dock, filling the cavity with a cold gel to ensure proper contact of electrode and scalp. The girl yawns sleepily. This was nothing new to her. Same crap, different day. Soon they would pull a rolling metal table in front of her that held a flat computer screen. The deep blue background would be replaced by a screensaver. Usually the geometric lines that bounced around the edges of the screen. Her eyes would be drawn to that, lazily tracking the movement. In her head she would pretend that a bell would toll with each collision. Sometimes she imagined she could manipulate the shape to play a song in her head.
The brassy haired lab tech reached behind the girl and pulled a wig of wires up over her head. This was snapped in place and each wire was secured in each receiving dock so that she looked like an adolescent Medusa. She could almost hear the hissing of the electrodes like so many sibilant snakes. The woman stepped back. "Okay?" she asked. The girl knew she didn't expect a response, negative or otherwise. She wondered what they would do if she said 'no'. The woman smiled, a dry practiced movement of her lips that was clinical and without meaning.

Ok, have other things to do today. Later.

We got the big check today. I imagine my FIL is spinning in his grave right about now knowing we profited from his will. Actually, I'm not sure it was like that in his will. Maybe MIL decided to pass along the wealth. Either way the duplex on Perlock was given to my husband (the stepson) and his stepdad's other two sons. There was a brief while where my husband and the eldest son were playing with the idea of keeping the joint and raking in the profit from the tenants. When they paid, of course. It was one thing after another. Fumigating, plumbing, painting, fines from the city because of the tenant's junk cars. Finally they came to their senses and decided to sell. Thank God! It sold for about $40k below assessed value. A bargain! So, the checks have been cut and now we're just trying to tie up the loose ends with the other owners. No more $80 grass cutting fees, no more court dates, no more fumigating or crooked plumbers. I really feel like we dodged a bullet there.
Now I can start worrying about next year's taxes.

In no particular order:

1. Parents who don't bring their kids to soccer practice on time or at all but show up for the games and scream at the kids.
2. Soccer moms who park their high dollar cars in the handicap spaces when they don't have legitimate reason.
3. People who don't return a library book when there is a hold on it. 2 months overdue? Really?
4. People who have absolutely no concept of personal space and proceed to have a reunion right over top of you.
5. Being invisible. You'd think it would be fun, right?
6. Getting a sales flyer in the mail with an outstanding coupon that expired three days ago.
7. My coffee.
8. My dog. Seriously.
   
9. Bleach that will eat a hole in my favorite tshirt but won't make my kid's socks white.
10. Not being able to come up with a single halfway decent idea for NaNoWriMo.
    

It's 11:35 pm and I'm sitting at the computer stuffing my face with dry cocoa puffs. I don't know where they came from. I certainly didn't buy them. Took my first Ambien in weeks. Wanted to stay awake tomorrow. I'll probably wake up every hour until it's time to get up and get the kidlet ready for school.
It finally rained today. Is still raining, as a matter of fact. I stood outside in it for awhile just to feel it splattering off of my dehydrated skin. I could hear the plants sighing in relief. The frogs started singing. The chickens didn't think too much of it though. Nor did the cats. All six found their way to the door this evening. I've already kicked a few back out. They have a really nice house of their very own with several sleeping platforms, carpet on the floor, windows to look out of, a ramp to crawl up on and scratch their claws on, and a big bowl of food awaiting them. They come and go as they please in their little cat cabana. Every once in awhile they'll be raided by a 'possum or raccoon, both connoisseurs of 9 lives plus care cat food. The good stuff, the iams, is in the main house. Some of the cats refuse to eat that common tripe that the neighbours cat chows down on when he visits for a gnash.

damn. have to wrap this up so i can still find my way back to my room.

School started Sept. 7th. Two weeks later and she has a cold. Gallons of snot, sneezing. That has to be some sort of land speed record. I forced a nasty chewable vitamin down her scrawny little neck this morning. They're awful. I don't care if they are shaped like zoo animals. They still taste like shit and burn all the way down. She wasn't too happy with it either. I gave her a handful of cinnamon life cereal to chase it. So with her 30 pound backpack slung over her shoulder she trudged to the bus stop snotting and sniffling. I can't wait until it makes its rounds. Soccer practice tonight. She'll be laying it on thick, I'm sure.

Stayed up late finishing Mockingjay (by Suzanne Collins). Today I'm in a kind of funk. That let down feeling I always get when I finish a book, especially when I don't have something fantastic lined up for the next read. Book club is doing To Kill a Mockingbird but they won't meet until the middle of next month for that. I could be working on my own novel but I'm having a spot of trouble with my attention span. Seems it's nonexistent at the moment. I had a rather lengthy inner dialogue over the merits of a healthy snack versus a chocolate chip cookie a while ago. The cookie won. I guess my subconscious was playing devil's advocate because I can't imagine the need for a dialogue at all when chocolate is involved.

I'm off to the library now. Need to return some useless landscaping books and find a story I can crawl into and wrap around me like a fuzzy warm blanket.

Autumn looks like it is well underway. The leaves are starting to change and fall. The crickets are raising hell outside my bedroom window at night. Soccer season started. I'm still waiting for people to break out the plaid. I always associate September with the Royal Stewart tartan. I don't know why. It's not my clan.
I can hear the wind tossing the maple limbs around. The sky was a beautiful crisp blue this morning with feathery wisps of cirrus clouds. Hopefully the rain they promise will be enough to fill my rain barrels. They're all but empty now. I have one full barrel left and that's off limits due to the tadpole population that made it home at the beginning of the summer.
We're in the middle of renovating the foundation plantings on the front of the house. The boxwood and azaleas are dying. We pulled some out to discover that the entire bed was lined with two layers of a very tough plastic. The dirt and mulch that covered it (over a forty year period no doubt) got all of the fertilizer and water but the roots of the shrubs were bone dry beneath the plastic. Brilliant. So for the past few days I've been picking up plants at Lowes to replace them. I've got the basic plan in my head but I better put it to paper to make sure everything is spaced properly. Anything would have to be better than what was there before. Boring! Guess I better get out there and start digging out the old roots. Tempus Fugit...time flees!

I think I'll ram shivs of bamboo under my nails next. I did a little writing today and then proceeded to criticize every word. I had quite the skirmish between my inner critic and I. She won. She nearly always wins. I really stunk up the page and she knew it. It's one thing to write drivel but this a.m.'s attempt was pure dreck. I am going to have to kill that bitch if I want to get any work done.
Meanwhile, out in the boonies of south central Virginia, my dad turns 87 today. He still thinks he's 50-ish. Mad as a hatter, my dad. Or as he would say, crazier than a shithouse rat. Mom's birthday is next week on the 21st. She'll be 79. Neither one of them does anything the easy way. I don't consider myself lazy but I will take a shortcut now and then if the end result meets my expectations. And why not? Why sacrifice time and energy your whole life if you don't do anything you enjoy? Once you get to the end of your life shouldn't you be able to look back on it and say 'man, I had fun!'? Or should you be miserable, disenchanted, and sad because you passed all of the 'what ifs' up because you felt your time and money was better served elsewhere? My mom says she feels like she wasted her life. Not enough to change her behavior and do things she would enjoy in her remaining years though. She's says it's too late.
I went to Europe three times when I was in my late 20's and early 30's. Had a blast. Best time ever! I was 32 on my last trip (Italy & Greece) and met my husband two weeks after I got back. My globetrotting days were over. Just like that. It was time to knuckle down and get serious. House, baby, etc. No regrets on that at all. I do miss the freedom of having to only think about my future and making decisions based on that though. Freedom is a powerful feeling. I used to get quite a bit done. Now every action and/or reaction has to pass through a committee of three. But that's life. It's not going to stop me from enjoying myself. I think I'll get the forms for passports this week. Get the ball rolling. Mine expired long ago. The husband and kidlet have never been off the east coast. Neither have my parents, but that was their choice.
Ok, I feel better now that I have a plan. Glad I procrastinated on the bamboo. That would have been nasty.

It's the eve of a new school year and I'm all aquiver with excitement. The kidlet can't sleep. I know she's excited too but won't admit it. I mean that's so uncool, school is dull and boring and the other kids are stupid and boring. Duh.
I can barely keep myself from packing her lunch right now at a quarter to midnight. I wish I was going back to school. How dorky is that? The last class I took was Medical Terminology. Aced it. Still have the flash cards I made for it. That was over ten years ago though. I haven't learned anything new since. Got pregnant while taking the class and went brain dead during gestation. And ten years of Rubadubbers, Lazytown, and Backyardigans didn't help to rehab the gray matter in the least. Blue's Clues wasn't bad though. At least we made a game of that. I cut out three blue paw prints and put them around the house and the kidlet would find them and try to figure out Blue's Clues. I bet she'd still play if I got them out. I'm sure I still have them. I still have my flash cards so apparently I don't throw anything away. Well on my way to Hoarders on channel 37. You'll find me buried under empty cat food bags and school papers.
Better try to get some sleep. The bus comes super early. 7:25. Another year of 50 minute bus rides to go to a school ten minutes away. If she went to her home based school she'd be there in three minutes. Gotta love how the county divided the districts. Next year the CBG school (if they aren't cut from the budget) will be all the way to the city in a school with suck ass SOL scores. But they need the CBG kids to keep their accreditation. My child, a pawn of the school system. I'm so excited!

Well, we're definitely back. It's too stinking hot to even work in the garden. I tried. Managed to clear off another bed to get ready for the cold frame. I couldn't stop thinking about the weather in the mountains. How cool. I guess it was about 15 degrees cooler there than here. I hiked all day and didn't break a sweat. Not like this humidity around here where you sweat your ass off just standing still. A short hike to a beautiful waterfall, the cool mist rising in the primeval forest, droplets clinging to the emerald green moss and ferns that spring up everywhere. *sigh* I want to live there. Get a horse and a goat. Some chickens. I could make lap quilts and sell them to the tourists. This past vacation was our second time out there. We did all the touristy things last year like the "gem mining" and Grandfather mountain. This time was strictly hiking and enjoying the cool weather, the flora and fauna. We couldn't make a decent living there so I guess we're stuck here until the husband retires. That'll be awhile. Besides, he's set on retiring to Seattle though he's never been there. Best to ship the kidlet off to college first. She's starting 5th grade here in a bit. Her school has over 700 kids in it. The elementary school in Banner Elk, NC has 210. I don't know if I can stand 8 more years. I feel like I've been here forever. I've never lived in one place this long before. Link to Banner Elk.
Doesn't that look inviting?

Despite every muscle in my body aching and begging for a hot soak I can safely say that I have survived a week of strenuous hikes over rocks, cliffs, and vicious root systems. Blood was shed only once but I may get hit by a car on the way back to the room. You never know. knock wood. Today we ventured to Beacon Heights. Started slow with this relatively short hike.
*That bit was written last Thursday but I didn't get a chance to upload any pics until now.

Got up relatively early (for me anyway) for the continental breakfast. Looked like a bus from assisted living had beat us to it. I don't think anyone under the age of 70 is staying at this resort besides us. We snagged a couple of eclairs and headed outside. I managed to get a cup of coffee, too. On the way back to the room I grabbed an apple. You never know. We decided to go back to Crabtree Falls for a hike. We got rained out the other day. The weather today was brilliant. Not fifty yards into the trek I twisted my ankle and took a header. Bloodied up my knee and palm on the gravel path. Brushed it off with "it's merely a flesh wound" and continued on. Twisted the same ankle again but retained my footing and dignity that time. A mile later we got to the falls. Absolutely gorgeous. We found a place to sit and had lunch and watched a group of people and their dog playing in the water. Another couple was creeping down the trail as we were getting ready to leave. He looked about 80. She appeared much younger but was totally unsuited for the treacherous terrain. We found ourselves wondering how in hell they were ever going to get out of there alive. So we left because that's how we roll. The "less strenuous" 1.6 mile return loop seemed to be the best bet. It took a long time. Heart attack pending and all. I ended up twisting my left ankle as well before finally crawling to the car.
Stopped at AltaPass Apple Orchard on the way back to our room. Bought a big bag of Red Blaze apples (?) and a pound of Damson plums. Splurged on monstrous ice cream cones while watching the hive of bees sandwiched between glass. Busy as a bee has new meaning. The kidlet really hogged into her cone. Chocolate Moose Tracks all over her face. We had fun.
Finally got back to the resort...almost in one piece. Tomorrow...something easier for a change.

Ok, I soundly trounced the husband at cards. I was merciless. We switched to Scattergories and seem to be equally matched on it. That will be the pasttime for this evening while lounging on the upper balcony sipping beers and Matthew Fox wine. It may be two buck chuck, I don't know. I wish there was wifi in the room but I guess if there was a hookup the kidlet would be playing Runescape the whole week.
About the weather? The sun shone brightly all day. It's still shining at about 5:15. So much for the awful forecast. We packed lunch and hit a trail. I forgot my USB cable for the camera or else I would post a pic of the view from the top of the trail. Gorgeous! Saw lots of wild flowers, ferns, etc. We ate lunch on the summit, a wind swept barren slab of rock for the most part. Small, scraggly pine trees clung to the crevices in the rocks. I can imagine how harsh the climate is in the dead of winter.
After that we walked around a lake. 2.3 miles worth, through forest, and marshy laurel hells. We encountered a beaver colony with a series of elevated ponds. I wonder if the forest service guys pull the dams down like my dad does. They live at a 12 acre lake with all sorts of wildlife that my dad wishes to obliterate for whatever reason. My opinion: its like going to a concert and expecting it to be quiet. Anyway, it was a lovely day. I'm tired but happy. We'll have pizza for dinner, a hot shower with the Turk2000 shower head that strips off the top ten layers of skin, and then a relaxing read....Odd Thomas by Dean Koontz. I wish this place still had their hot tub. That would feel good right about now. More tomorrow if I survive it.

are coming to a close. Thank Goodness. I managed to throw a few seeds into the ground before we left for vacation. The cabbage and zucchini sprouted as soon as they hit the dirt it seems. I'm in the pool house of the Blue Ridge Villages Resort in Banner Elk, NC. The kidlet is swimming in the heated pool below my window. She has it all to herself. It looks like the husband is playing some kind of solitaire and sipping one of my beers. How evil. We struck out fairly early this morning to hike to the Crabtree Falls but pea soup fog rolled in and it started to rain. It's currently about 21 degrees cooler here than at home. 69 right now. Lovely hiking weather. Except for the rain and the fog, that is. Tomorrow is calling for rain, thunder and lightning, all day and night. That's fine by me. I just love being here. We got the best room ever this time. Two bedrooms on two levels with lots of windows and balconies overlooking the lake. Awesome! We were only supposed to get a one bedroom but there was an opening that allowed us to upgrade. I was absolutely giddy!
Everything has been peachy except the kidlet got sick last night and hurled. But she felt much better right after and apparently has no lasting effects today. She'd be happy in the pool all week. I feel the need to hike though. We came here last year and the views were absolutely beautiful. I think I'd be happy living here if I didn't need to drive during winter. Guess I better close this up and get down to the pool. I feel the need to trounce the husband at cards.

I see him all the time. I've seen him for years now. I've watched him get grayer, his hairline receding a bit more as time passes. The lines around his eyes have grown deeper but the eyes have always been a bit sad. An ageless guilt, fresh as the day it was born, staring from somewhere deep inside. His broad shoulders are more rounded than they used to be, bent from years of some personal burden. He never had abs but his physique suits him. Anything more would be contrived.
"Let's do something", he tells me. "I'm tired of just sitting around." My indecision is crippling. I've no time to waste anymore. I've been stuck too long and each day Winston gets further away. Something cold and hard, akin to panic, starts to form in my gut.
I see him sometimes standing in the shade of the maple tree, watching me as I work in the garden. He smiles and my heart melts. He's waiting for me. I'm stealing his life but I'm terrified that I'll do something wrong, do something that will change him, so I do nothing. But he never leaves. His sighs are more frequent. Maybe he's gotten too comfortable waiting for me.
"Let's take the dog to the park," he suggests. "Or maybe we should check out the storm damage at the river." I nod. Maybe tomorrow, after I get the laundry done.

Have you ever met someone that you took an instant intense and, by all counts, unrealistic dislike for? When other people fall all over themselves for this person and it makes you feel like there is something wrong with you for having such a different impression? When you look that person in the eyes and you can tell that there's nothing there? No warmth, no empathy. Just a flat black hole. A vacuum that feeds off of nothing more than your presence and attention. It gives me the willies, for lack of a better word.

Opening up the bedroom window is like opening the oven door. Thunder is pounding the hell out of the clouds but they're not weeping yet. It was in the 100s again today. The cats have gone to ground and probably won't be out until the storm has passed. I spoke with my mom briefly and had to cut it short. She said they were getting hammered with rain. The kidlet is on her way to the holiday house with her grandmother and soon-to-be grandfather. I hate it that she goes off with them. I'm glad she gets to go swimming and all that but I'm really not comfortable with MIL's bf.

I went to the dentist today. He couldn't find anything wrong with my teeth. Doesn't know where the pain is coming from. He poked and rapped and blew air on them. Nothing. The delayed reaction was a bitch though. Must be like getting hit in the balls.

Monster storm underway now. The chickens probably think it's the end of the world.

I'm between books at the moment. I finished Graceling this morning. It was ok, but not good enough to make me leap right into Fire. I think I'll read Endless Night by Richard Laymon next. It's a borrowed book and I don't want the owner to think I'm keeping her novels hostage. The lights just dimmed and the cable box keeps rebooting. Looks like I'll be reading by candlelight in a few minutes. Great way to read spooky books!

I have to say that my pain threshold has been getting a workout here lately. Any more of this and I think I'd even be able to watch that scene in Marathon Man where Laurence Olivier drills a nifty hole in one of Dustin Hoffman's healthy teeth. How did it get to this point? I don't know. I guess I don't trust the dentist since every time I go I come away with a cold sore and/or the promise of expensive restoration. I really should find a new one. I keep telling myself that the pain is a result of a cold and nothing more. Even a handful of ibuprofen with an antihistamine chaser hasn't taken the edge off today though. The bone deep ache is now accompanied by sharp stabbing pains, the high pitched whistle of tinnitus and the sensation of my ears popping. Fun, fun, fun. I'd love a syringe of novacaine administered directly to the base of the skull, as long as the brain stem still functions enough for me to breathe without thinking.
I just had panoramic xrays taken by Sweeney, right before she took two or three layers of bone away with her germ riddled dental pick. A faint shadow appeared where an abscess might be beginning to form but that's on the other side of my mouth. Nothing wrong there. I've got a mental image of the dentist informing me that I'll need a root canal. He can barely contain his glee. His nerdy microscope goggles start to fog up with excitement. His wife at the front desk stops flipping casually through her Pottery Barn catalog at this bit of good news and frantically begins circling the items on her wish list in earnest. No matter the cost. Those material goods are the detritus of my very own blood and tears. Teeth don't heal. What can you do? Need a new television? Tsk, tsk, tsk. The number 18 mandibular second molar doesn't look good. We're gonna need to pop off that gold crown and dig around there some more. What's this? Hmmm... that maxillary second premolar will have to go. It doesn't hurt you say? Well, it will.
He starts humming the tune "I'm in the money".
I can feel my pain threshold growing. This isn't too bad. Not like it's childbirth or anything. Besides, chewing is overrated.

This post should be made on the Square Peg Mama blog but I thought I'd add it here, too, just to change pace from the usual bitching and moaning. I direct seeded this squash in my garden. It's called Sweet Dumpling. It's a vigorous vine and climbs well. Very productive. I spooned out the seeds and baked them in a small amount of water for 30 minutes. Then I stuffed them with apples, cranberries, raisins, butter, turbinado and brown sugar, nutmeg and cinnamon and baked for 30 more minutes. I reserved the tops for a cute little lid. Too much? I don't know what it'll taste like but it really smelled good while it was cooking.

I also baked the last of the bread. It turned out great but I wish I could slash the crust the way they do with artisan bread at bakeries. I use a fresh razor blade but the dough is very moist, clinging to the blade. It ends up deflating the loaf. I guess I'll just have to keep on trying.

I had the dream again last night. It's been awhile since I had it so it makes me wonder why it surfaced again. It starts out the same and generally ends the same. I'm at school. The community college usually, which I haven't seen the inside of (nor outside for that matter) for about fifteen years. I'm looking for my locker. I don't remember the number or the combination. Usually I'm late for a class. Accounting or stats or equally dreaded subject. I need my book and I know I haven't read the assignment or done the homework and I'll need the book to fake my way through. But I can't find the damned locker. Apparently it's a night class this time and I left my keys in my locker and I can't leave without them. Someone starts flicking the lights to signal time. The lockers are all different. Some are tall and narrow, others just little boxes. Some have combination locks like a safe. Others just masterlocks. Some nothing at all. Not even a number. I know the general area but can't pin down the specific locker.
People are moving past me in the dim light, heading for the stairs and the exit. Then a guy calls my name. But it's my old name, the one associated with my previous life, a life I left behind years ago. I don't recognize him and tell him he's mistaken me for someone else. He says it's not safe around there any more. He starts talking about his wife, his brother-in-law. Meanwhile, I'm scanning the walls trying to find the locker so I can leave. I think about projects that I managed to skirt around and never complete. Major projects required for school. I wonder how I was able to graduate without doing them. I pass the same people in the hallway again and again and wonder if they notice me. I find a light switch and turn them back on so I can see what I'm doing. It doesn't help. And then I wake up.
I wonder what exactly my subconscious is searching for when I have this dream. I never seem to find it.

Do they still do that? Or is it more likely the hypocritical oath? Finally got my prescription from the doctor. Dropped it off at the pharmacy, did my other errands, picked it up and discovered that the doctor only gave me half my dosage. Called the office but since it was after 5 p.m. they wouldn't answer the phone. Called the pharmacy and they said they would contact the doctor about the mistake. Called the doctor's office this morning, left a message and waited all day for a call back. Didn't get one. Which isn't surprising with this particular outfit. Called again and left another message and still nothing. The other prescription was ok but I was only given one refill. WTF? Treating a patient shouldn't include poking them with a sharp stick. This isn't the first time they've made me jump through hoops but I guarantee it's the last.

My mouth is killing me. It feels like someone has my molars in the grip of a pair of rusty, cold pliers and they're steadily pulling and twisting. Yesterday it was the upper teeth on the left side. Tonight it is the lower teeth on the left side. My teeth have been hurting a bit ever since I got my 6 month cleaning by Sweeney Todd, Dental Hygienist, about five weeks ago. Not like it is now though. Just mildly sore. Like you'd feel if a sadist just flossed your teeth with razor wire. Tonight it is borderline excruciating. And it's Friday night and the office is closed for three days. I saw a doctor on Tuesday thinking I had an ear infection. Usually when I catch a cold it presents with the teeth on one side of my face hurting like hell. Alka Seltzer Cold Plus kicks it's little viral ass if I take it early enough. Hasn't worked so far this time. Anyway, back to the doctor. I drove by the office on Monday to make an appointment because I can never get anything done by phone with them. The only opening they had was for 5:30 on Tuesday. I was ok with that. 8 to 10 Ibuprofen a day seemed to be keeping the pain in check. The guy, not my regular doctor, took down my history, checked my ears, checked my teeth and throat and told me to take more Ibuprofen. His recommendation was to up my dosage to 2400 mg a day. I got him to renew my other prescriptions and he said he faxed them over to my pharmacy. That was Tuesday. My husband has been calling both parties all week and they finally got one of the prescriptions from the doctor's office. I have to go back and pick the other one up since it can't be sent electronically. Would have been nice if they had just given it to me on Tuesday. I loathe those people. It's not that I'm a difficult patient. I'm not. Honestly. I just hate incompetence and laziness.
Crap. It hurts. Monday the plumber is coming by to fix what the tile guy screwed up. He said it would take him roughly four hours but I don't know if that is a.m. hours or p.m. hours. Guess I'll have to wait until Tuesday. I'll run out of Ibuprofen before then.

Sometimes things don't work out as planned. I had a whole different idea of what the bathroom would look like when it was redone. The "professional" tile guy screwed up my plans the moment he cut out our copper pipes. I had wanted separate handles for hot and cold...porcelain crosses. I think they look old fashioned and that certainly fits the rest of the house. He forced us into getting a single handle fixture. And then he tiled the hardware in so that we can't switch it out unless we tear out some tile first. He said that he's been laying tile for 20 some years and could do it in his sleep. In fact, it looks like he did. There's a section at the edge of the tub where he cut the backer board wrong so there was nothing to adhere a piece of tile to so he just filled the inch wide gap with grout. If I tap it with my knuckle it'll fall behind the tub. He said it was because there were pipes in the walls and he couldn't work around them. Fancy that. Plumbing in the walls of a bathroom. Go figure. We argued that there had been something there before he tore it out. He refused to redo it. He said there was no danger of water seeping through because the grout would stop it. Hmmm. So why put up concrete backerboard instead of plain sheetrock? Why spend a day adding waterproofing to the backerboard before tiling? I mean, if the grout will stop the water then why did he bother with all those other steps?

The only bright moment of the whole botched tile affair was when the asshole was leaving and a hornet nailed him in the ear. Hubris/Nemesis. Some people just don't get karma.

Got home a little while ago from the best book club meeting ever. We read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. Not a particularly riveting read. I kept looking for the deep meaning that was sure to be hidden in the tale but didn't find it. It was kind of like reading a passage from The Secret. The universe conspires to make your dreams come true sort of thing. The ending also had a Dorothy Gale finds herself back in Kansas aspect to it which didn't do a thing for me. I don't want to ruin it for you. Anyway, the discussion of the book took very little time. None the less, we were able to keep up a steady banter for over two hours. The conversation swept from one topic to the next with dizzying speed. Tasers, Ted Bundy, and why Velma never had a boyfriend on Scooby-do were all covered. At one point I thought we were going to witness a cage match between two ladies who were heavily debating the lawfulness of gunning someone down in your own home. We didn't quite manage to get hermaphroditism into the conversation but it wasn't from lack of trying. Or opportunity. It was no holds barred. It makes me a little sad that we only meet once a month. But I guess it's safer that way. Like one lady said tonight, "I get the feeling we're going to end up getting arrested."

There were two cold cups of tea in the microwave this morning. And the remnants of an untoasted chocolate fudge poptart wannabe on a plate on the counter. Whoever stole into my house during the wee hours of the night at least had the common courtesy to throw the wrapper in the trash. But still, it pissed me off. I have to admit my calorie conscious eye had settled on the box of toaster pastries more than a few times since I started on Neris and India's Idiot-Proof Diet. I dutifully dined on cheese and eggs and eggs and cheese. All the while my heart ached for confections of every kind. I did well. I stuck to my guns and went without bread and spirits. No oatmeal for breakfast. No raisins or fruit. I have to say I'm completely egged out. Day after day pining for pastry. I weighed myself and the scale mocked me. Nothing changed except my attitude. Yes, I did get a wee bit bitchy there for awhile. Those closest to me could see the difference. It wasn't fair. I sacrificed so much! No rice, no carrots! Just chicken, peanut butter, and cheese. There's not a whole lot there. The kitchen creativity really took a header.
I put the kettle on for tea (without sugar....yeah, right) and noticed my little red and yellow drug basket that usually resides on the top of the fridge. Not hardcore drugs. Just my depression meds and Ambien. Hmmm. I searched my poor sleep deprived brain. I tried logic. If it had been anyone else in this house the wrapper would still be on the counter and there would be no tea in the microwave. But, there would have been absolutely no poptart shrapnel laying on the counter either. Whoever did it moved through both pastries...they come in a pack of two. In my mind I see the cookie monster cramming them in his mouth, bits flying hither and yon. He's wearing a robe that looks suspiciously like mine. Maybe I should lay off of the Ambien for awhile.
Ok, who am I kidding? It's 1:39 a.m. and I'm wide awake. I wonder if I can hide the cookies from myself...

It's a blank slate unfortunately. Or fortunately depending on your perspective. I consider it a good thing. A chance to start over. To do something new. The forum is in the rawest state possible at the moment because it is midnight and I'm knackered. But for those night owls who may run across this blog post, you can access it at www.squarepegmama.com/smf. I'll throw some bells and whistles at it later and hope that some stick but for now...it is what it is.
I'm also trying to move the Square Peg Mama blog over to our new host. I've imported the SQL db for it but apparently I screwed it up somewhere along the way. I'll keep trying as I liked that blog. It had all my garden stuff on it. Yeah, big yawn, I know. But I love my garden. It's very calming and life affirming.
Gotta get this off before the ambien kicks in... don't want to scare off any possible members. ;o) Please visit the new board, sign up, and post a word or two. But please don't try to sell Viagra or cheap cigarettes there. And if you can't access the site PLEASE post a comment here and let me know why! 'night!

I'm in the process of changing hosts for my website and blog. My old host, who was brilliant but more than I wanted to spend, is going to cut me off tomorrow at my request. My new host, who I've already paid for a full year of hosting, is down. Has been down for a couple of hours now. What extraordinary bad luck.

It's not gone. Just in the process of moving. Should be done by tonight. Hope to see you there!

I'm not quite at that magic point where I can speak without erupting like a coprolalia patient. Maybe when the vein in my neck stops pulsating.

I've been dragging around all day going from one thing to the next. Not really accomplishing anything. The higher the heat index, the lower my ability to focus. It doesn't help to have the kidlet coming around every 3 minutes announcing that she can't wait to go to Grandma's house. The husband is home as well. Recuperating from a doctor's visit last week. My brain can't be still with the constant soccer vuvuzela background or wii noise. He had two tvs going today with the same thing on them. I thought my head was going to explode. I went outside and tried to read for awhile in the swing but the bugs started attacking like lions after wildebeest at the watering hole. There's just no place in this shoebox house to go to get quiet.
It may not be just my heat soaked brain though. I'm reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho for bookclub. For the life of me I cannot figure out why the book is so popular. So far it's dry as toast. I'm not even halfway through though. Maybe it gets better. But sitting in the swing in the furnace-like heat with invisible mini-beasties gnawing on my flesh is not conducive to concentration. Perhaps I'm spending too much effort in trying to find meaning and symbolism in the book. Maybe I should just let it wash over me like art. Maybe I should move on to another book from the humongous TBR pile next to my bed. I need to read a good nail biter. I just finished Postmortem by Patricia Cornwell. It was her first. It won a bunch of awards. I hated the ending. You pretty much knew what was going to happen but learning the identity of the killer was anticlimactic to say the least. Hardly whets my appetite to dive into her other tomes if she follows the same MO. Meanwhile my own work of utter genius lies dormant in my little red bag. I need to get everything printed out. If I see it, can shift it, and play with the flow of action, then I'm sure the rest of the story will come rushing out in a flood, spilling onto my computer screen. I'll look into that this week...when the temperatures soar to 100 degrees or more and my attention span shrinks to nearly coma-like levels.

The laundry is splooshing away. Again. I haven't done any in awhile since the threat of rain has been looming. The kidlet had a meltdown this a.m. because I wouldn't let her wear the same dirty clothes to school that she wore yesterday. Not that it would make any difference. I'm surprised the other moms haven't taken up a collection for her. The poor little street urchin. I imagine too soon she'll be locking herself away in the bathroom for hours on end gazing at her reflection in the toothpaste spattered mirror like Narcissus at the lake. Wailing about freckles or blemishes or imperfect teeth when apparently water and soap are the enemy at the moment. I remember that age. That air of homelessness. But I had an excuse. All the kids in school looked like that. We were farm kids and everybody had cow shit on them. You couldn't avoid it. Every once in awhile we'd take a proper bath but we had a creek that seemed sufficient during the summer months. We didn't think about the dairy farms up river with their bovine flotsam. I don't ever remember my parents forcing the issue either. I know we had a bathtub because water froze in it one winter. Having a bath in the winter was a big deal apparently. Ah, the good old days.

The laundry is churning away in the washing machine. The kidlet got off to school with the usual petulant look on her face, her clothes wrinkled, her hair uncombed. The breakfast dishes, if they even made it to the dishwasher, are piled haphazardly. After ten years it's hard to believe that I'm the only person who has seemed to master the art of filling a dishwasher. The hunt for the great unwashed was a bust. The heap of clothes at the foot of the kidlet's bed is anyone's guess. They may have been clean at one point but now have a patina of cat hair from her useless lazy cat. I think I'll just wait for her to grow out of them.
I'll heat up a cup of tea left over in the pot from last night. Maybe have an english muffin. Worry that I'm not getting enough protein. Worry about why I can't remember words anymore and then be self-conscious about speaking because the words just leave. Take a couple of ibuprofen. For now I sit and absorb the relative quiet of this empty house. Except for the splooshing sound coming from the washer. The spin cycle sounds like a jet engine gearing for takeoff.
I think about what I was doing yesterday at this time and so far the day has been a carbon copy. In fact, it seems, everyday is a carbon copy of the one before. You'd think that the copy would degrade after time, get a little frayed in the margins, maybe lose clarity, get just a little bit harder to understand. It's like this book I'm currently reading. I'm two-thirds of the way through it. Nothing has happened. I've started this same book twice before and given up on it. I'm determined to slog my way through it this time though. It can't possibly get any drier. And such is life....determined to slog through it, hoping something exciting will happen, and that all of the excruciatingly dull minutiae of this particular story will have meaning at the end.

The fragrance of blooming privet hangs heavy in the still air of a hot hazy afternoon. Almost suffocating in its sweetness. Like being coated with honey. The smell permeates everything including the long haired cat poised beneath it's branches. Waiting for a bird to swoon, overcome, to land at his feet. The morning light glows through the fluffy white panicles. The petals fall like rain with each bee that visits. There aren't as many bees as there used to be. There was a time when the hedgerow hummed like a distance racetrack. Perhaps the crush of progress has sent them to lesser developed areas. There are still sufficient numbers to send the kidlet screaming in hysterics when she walks home from the busstop. Ah, the dreamy sweet sounds of summer. If you click on the photo and zoom in you'll see one of the little beasts in action.