Good Things

My DH and I watched Catching Fire the other day.

We seldom go to the movies, and when we do, usually one of us is disappointed. This time both of us walked out of the theater feeling like we could have watched another hour or more. It was that good. I enjoyed The Hunger Games very much. Catching Fire took an already great story to the next level. Outstanding, and highly recommended.

Speaking of highly recommended ....

I had to leave work early yesterday because it felt like someone was knifing me from inside my gut. I don't know if it was just a passing thing, or what happened. Various stomach products didn't even touch the pain. Eating made it worse.

Until I decided it was time for yogurt.

I don't know for sure if whatever was going on fixed itself or not, but as far as timing, the yogurt seemed to be the thing that ultimately fixed my tummy. I had yogurt (plain, Greek, mixed with a little marionberry jam–honey might have been better) when I got home, again in about an hour, and when I felt well enough to eat real food, I had yogurt on my baked potato.

I used yogurt instead of soy milk with my cereal this morning. Here's hoping my stomach is all better!

When something upsets your stomach and intestinal bugaboos, anything probiotic is worth a try. My go-to is yogurt, but if you can't stand the stuff, there are alternatives in the vitamin/herbal remedies section at pretty much any grocery store. It's worth a try. At the feed store, there's a goat version too for my goaties when their tummies are upset! Good stuff, good for you. In fact, we really can't do without our little gardens inside us. Treat them nice, and invite some new friends over for them when they're feeling down.

Getting better

I got sick during our last day at the coast, and I've been on and off sick ever since.  Sometimes I feel fine, and then the coughing starts and my throat starts to burn and I wonder when I'll feel well again.  At least it's not one of those miserable keeps-me-awake-at-night coughs, or the "I'm on fire put me out" sore throats, or the never-ending waterfall of snot running nose that turns my whole face red from blowing my nose so much.  And I'm able to keep going to work, which is good.

But still.

Sick.

Meh.

Meh!

Wah.

Work work work

I've got one of those colds that tends to kick my butt.  No coughing (yet) but a sore throat, headache, low-grade fever, runny nose, and I can't sleep.  Hence the post 1am post.

I did get a lot of work done, though.  House of Goats by Tammy Owen is now available in print!  That was a big step, a first for Wyrd Goat Press.  Horrible Stories I Told My Children by Ron Ellis will be available soon, maybe even before the end of the month.  That one is pricey because it's illustrated and in full color.  It should be super-awesome, though.  Maybe Wyrd Goat will put out a b&w edition.  I'll have to think about that.

So next in the cue are Violence: A Writer's Guide, and I have to produce some illustrations for a Rory Miller manual of drills.  I must be wicked because apparently there's no rest for me.  That's probably a good thing, but one of these days I'd like to get back to writing, y'know?

But first, sleep.  I hope I'm finally tired enough to do that.  That would be super-awesome.  Because I'm pooped.  Exhausted.  Weary.  Drained.  Constitutionally challenged.  Drooping.  Sleepy.  Tuckered out.  Dragging ....

More Whining about Outlines

I stink.

I've been sick (nasty sick) for the past 24 hours or so. The sort of sick where having oatmeal for dinner was a big accomplishment. I'm pretty sure that it was food poisoning, but that's a trickier thing to diagnose than most people realize.

I'm feeling much better now, after having slept all day. I may even take a shower. The idea of going back to bed makes me tired (heh) but if I don't, my sleep schedule will be even more messed up than it already is.

All that aside, I had a fantastic time at Radcon. I was able to hitch a ride with the amazing and talented Sara Mueller. We spent the entire time talking while my poor daughter listened to the music loop over and over because we weren't paying attention to the CDs enough to notice when they'd gone back to the beginning. And then, after a good lunch at the Atomic Pub, we got to be on a panel together.

To Outline or not to Outline: We had a huge number of panelists, and still the non-outliners outnumbered the outliners five to one. Seriously? Being a non-outliner, I wasn't surprised ... which is directly opposite to my point. My point being that it's harder for me to find those little surprises when I outline. Good outliners find their twists and shockers in the outline. Bearing in mind that I don't know a large enough group of writers to call my observations in any way definitive, scientific, etc. and also bearing in mind that my stints with outlining have been brief ....

Outliners who struggle often run into the following situations:

The story moves from scene to scene in a very linear, logical fashion such that the reader will see the ending coming a mile away. This isn't a huge problem if the story is incredibly entertaining, and the characters are fun to watch. A good sign that the story is working even if everything is fairly predictable is that the author is having a ball writing it. If you're having fun, chances are the reader will have fun too.

The writer skips around the book as s/he writes, planning to fill in later. After all, it's all planned out, right? Why not write the scenes that you're excited about writing and get to the others when you have a really good idea on how to approach them? I've noticed two pitfalls here. The people I know who write this way have a much more difficult time finishing the project. They never get around to writing those harder scenes. Also, there's often a flow issue. When scenes are written in order, they often lead into each other naturally, even when there's a pov switch. Our brilliant subconscious has a great sense of word and tone choice that can subtly connect one section to another. This is less of an issue if there are radical jumps in the storyline. Interestingly, I've heard many writers who write multiple points of view or who employ time travel or make a story of characters who are in different parts of the world and never meet often write the whole story of each character/setting/time and then carefully break these up and fit them together like a puzzle. Very kewl!

Outliners also sometimes spend so much time outlining that it gets in the way of their actual writing. Why not put off putting words on the page when it's so easy to delay in favor of tweaking the complicated and scary middle game portion of the book?

I tried using the Snowflake Method. Developed by writer and engineer Randy Ingermanson, I found it to be an incredibly helpful tool. If I were to outline, this is the method I'd use. Having said that, if I went much past step five or six, the project began to languish. I lost a lot of the sense of excitement of discovery, and I became reluctant to write the project. It felt like it had already been written, if that makes sense. When I write, I'm telling myself a fun story. I like it when things pop out at me from nowhere, and I love it when I realize what's really going on (which sometimes forces me to go back to the beginning and change and add a few things.) Snowflaking necessarily took away that feeling in process. The surprises all happened in the outlining stage, and it became less interesting to actually write the dang thing.

Having said all that, there are many fine outliners out there writing great books. Also, different books require different approaches, and different styles of outlining. If I were writing a murder mystery, I wouldn't dream of going in without some sort of over-arching plan. I'd have to know whodoneit at minimum, and preferably have an idea of what sort of clues might be available. Maybe I don't write them in part because it would take so much effort and planning on my part. Writers who can write these books may be able to write them without an outline because their brilliant minds are geared for it. But I will say that of the mystery writers I know, at least back in the early days, they wrote with a plan. With experience, a plan may become less necessary--or their ability to outline effectively becomes so honed that it just becomes part of their genius.

It's worth it to try to outline once or twice if you've never attempted it. It can be a fantastic tool, and there's no way to know if it'll enhance your writing or not until you give it a go. It didn't work for me, but it might work great for you. Also, don't be afraid to bubble diagram or use any other creative development tools out there. They exist because they work. When I get stuck, I sometimes doodle around with bubble diagrams, but usually I do better with a hot bath or taking a walk.

I may write about the rest of the panels later on. You know me. Sometimes I get to it, and sometimes the chickens get out of their yard and I have to tell y'all about chasing them around the garden for an hour. Until next time ....

Nanowrimo Count Up--22413 words!

I have another day off tomorrow, so I'll be working on the floor, and writing.

On a more serious note, Veronica, aka the Poop, is not feeling well. She stopped eating and drinking. I'll call the vet tomorrow. She's moving around super-slow and is sleeping lot, which implies to me that she got beat up by another kitteh and is sore and possibly has a mild infection brewing somewhere. I admit I'm worried, but we've been through this with Wizard a couple of times before. She's young and strong and will probably bounce back without any interference, but I'd like the vet to assess her for dehydration, and it would be nice if she were prescribed something to alleviate the soreness (if memory serves, they usually give a steroid shot) to get her moving and eating again. I'm sure they'll prescribe antibiotics if she has a fever.

Poor kitteh ...

And also (why is there so often an also!) Finn scraped his head up pretty good. We're not sure what happened, but it doesn't look like a bite from the other dogs. Quite a bit of hair is missing around the scrape, and we know it wasn't there last night. Trapped under the porch? Got his head jammed under a tree root while digging? Ran under a low branch? We have no idea. We called the vet, who said to watch to make sure it doesn't get worse/icky/full of pus and basically treat with neosporin. Check, check and check. Unlike the Poop, he seems fine, though his head looks alarming with so much scabby stuff and missing fur.

Sheesh.

Sickly

I called in sick today.  I very rarely do that ... and then I overthink it and wonder if I do really very rarely do that, or if I only think I rarely do that.  I don't want to be the person who's always calling in sick and screwing it up for everyone else.

Calling in sick causes problems for my employer.  It's a small enough place (35 employees-ish, with quite a few of those being part-time so that we have considerably less than that working on a given day) that losing one person really mucks up the schedule.  It's most likely that the bookkeeper will have to fill in my spot at least for some of the day.  Not good.

There's the possibility too that I won't be the only one calling in today.  

Business will be done, and the customers probably won't notice except maybe in the form of longer waits, but my fellow employees will really feel it.  Since I like my fellow employees a lot, I don't want them to end up harried and stuck in spots doing work that I ought to be doing.  On the other hand, I don't want to spread this plague, assuming it's contagious.  A couple of people have already called in sick this week, and what I'm feeling now sounds something like what caused them to go to work thinking they could pull off another day and then sent them running to the restroom followed by leaving work sick.  On the other, other hand, since it's already going around, my showing up or not probably won't affect who will get sick.  The plague is in the building ... it's all up to everyone's individual immunity now.  And of course on the other, other, other hand, I have to think about our customers, some of whom are elderly or in poor health.  They definitely ought to be protected.

So I'm staying home, even though at this point I think I can push through without emptying the non-existent contents of my stomach on them.  (Breakfast may or may not get eaten today ... water is an iffy proposition at this point.)  I don't like to call in sick.  It makes me feel like I'm letting everyone down.  I hope my coworkers don't have a really crummy day because of me.  And I hope I didn't unwittingly spread this yucky feeling to others yesterday.  I sterilized my whole area with wipes.  Twice!  I'm sure the bookkeeper will do that again today.  And I hope my previously-ill coworkers are feeling better, not just for their own sakes but because that makes it likely that I'll be back at work that much sooner too.

Stay well, everyone, and have a good day.  

Soon Now ... WorldCon!

My DH, the girl and I are all sick. Being the last holdout (I really thought I might skip this one) I of course am getting worse about the time that they're getting better. I don't feel too sorry for myself. So far it hasn't been that bad, plus I wasn't ill all winter and spring, so I guess it was about my turn. If these things take turns. Who knows.

The real news, though, is that I'm going to Worldcon in Reno. I've never been to a Worldcon. I've been to a few different ones, namely Norwescon, OryCon, Radcon, Potlatch and a few others, but I have a feeling that this one will be different. First of all, I've heard of all of the GOHs (Guests of Honor) including the musical special guests. That's pretty rare for a con for me. Also, I idolized one of the GOHs since mid-high school. That would be the incredible Boris Vallejo. I greedily absorbed news about him the same way normal people today follow the dramas of rock and movie stars, complete with commentary about artistic choices and yes, I blush to admit, even a bit of his romantic life (to be precise, rumors thereof--there was no Snopes back then to confirm or deny urban myths.) But mainly it was about his art.

My interest in collecting his books, scanning new books at the bookstores searching for his latest covers, buying posters and calendars waned over the years, but the admiration never flagged, so I'm excited to see what's been going on this past decade or two that I've been utterly ignorant of. I'm sure he's grown and changed, as artists tend to do, just as I've watched in awe as the core skills I coveted now carry through with even greater refinement.

Some of you might have caught that 'decade or two' and may be wondering just how old this guy is. Well, for your info he's been amazing the world with his work for a looooong time, well before I became aware of him. In fact, his career began before I was born. His entire family, including his wife, are all creatively talented. It's pointless to be jealous of him, though now (and correct me if I'm misusing the slang) I can say his art is sick and mean what I really mean--that it's beauty is beyond what I can describe in non-slangy terms without using terribly purple prose.

Will I walk up and say hi, or ask for his autograph? Heck no! Well, maybe, if I don't actually have to say anything. He's one of the few people that can easily turn me into a stammering idiot, so I won't even try to speak if I bring one of his books with me to sign. I'll just put a post-it note with my name spelled correctly and hope for the best. I think I'd have a better chance of saying hi to Johnny Depp than I would to Mr. Vallejo. It would probably come out mmmgggnnn-eep-myfriendwasyurbiggestfan-er,I mean metoo, ImeanIwas except I lost track and I don't have all your books or anything-- and then I would have to hide for the whole rest of the con to avoid the possibility of making eye contact with him thereby reliving that awful awkward moment.

I like the post-it plan. Let's go with that. I might even dare to put a smiley face on it.

I'll probably go through a dozen post-it notes before I make a smiley face worthy of him. Argh!

The Other Side of the Hill

Just so you all know ...

Dakota, our Irish wolfhound/lab mix (a 'mini' wolfhound at 75 pounds) is very ill.  Mainly, it's old age.  Arthritis is kicking her butt, and her incontinence is getting worse.  Also, something is messing up her digestive system.  She's gotten sick a few times (even before we switched meds to try to help her) and things are not good at the other end either.  

For now we're waiting and hoping that the new medication will help her.  If not ... her quality of life has plummeted.  She can still walk on level surfaces, but she needs big time help on the stairs, often wets herself in bed, and needs a hose-down bath every day, which she hates, because she can't squat even when she makes it outside.  She just sits in the muck and ... yeah.  If that was all, I'd just deal for an indefinite period of time, but she's having more and more trouble getting comfortable.  She gets up and wanders and tries to lay down and gets up again, stress-panting.  Unfortunately it's impossible to ask her what her pain level is like.  Fortunately, once she does settle she seems to sleep very deeply and peacefully, so I'm guessing/hoping that it's low enough still that she can get good rest and isn't in continuous pain.  From what I can gather, it's very bad after she's gone outside, and then eases up enough after about a half hour to an hour that she can settle and relax.  As long as she can get good rest for the majority of the day and isn't actively complaining with whining or crying (though I wonder if she ever will) or reeling with severe pain, I'd rather wait than act too soon.

It's so hard to judge these things.

The girl adopted Dakota when Dakota was already eleven years old.  Adopting a geriatric dog has been a wonderful experience so far, and I would highly recommend it.  From the very beginning, Dakota has been loyal, sweet, obedient, and very well-heeled.  We never had to go through the chewy, messy, rowdy, destructive (although cute and yes, I love puppy breath too) puppy stage with her.  I hope Dakota will be with us a while longer, but at this point it's not looking very good.  We still have some good times of the day, but those are getting shorter.

Rats!

Sorry about the lack of posts. We're still in iffy territory as far as internet connection and my office. We're working on it. I've also got a rotten cold of some sort. Bleh.

Anyway ...

I keep telling myself, it's not nearly as bad as last time.

But still.

We're finally tearing down the ceiling downstairs to rid ourselves of our ongoing vermin problem. In the middle of this (of course) the power went out in half the house. The half with my office.

Never fear! The good news is that I don't lie awake at night wondering if the house is going to burn down because a rat or mouse chewed through an electrical wire. Well, not too often, anyway. Turns out the wiring all looks pretty good except for one small spot that had nothing to do with the power going blink blink out. Turns out the power went out because of an overload on one of our breakers, now fixed. Yay!

The boo part is that we still have more ceiling to take down, and one of those rooms is my office. So there's really no point in setting up the computer in there, only to take it out again to make sure falling debris doesn't pop the screen (again.)

Blogging, email, everything computer-communication related is pretty much toast on the home front until we finish tearing stuff up and cleaning out icky mouse nests and making sure the wiring is safe and sound. Then I'll set the computer back up to its designated line and we'll be limping along at blinding (as in sometimes I think I'll go blind waiting for pages to load) dialup speeds. Because of line noise on our main line (yes, I've tried a noise reducer and it doesn't help that much) we have limited incoming email capability, no outgoing email (it times out) and very limited ability to look at web pages. Sorry.

My DH took point on the ceiling tear down. Have I mentioned lately he's my hero? Now, we didn't find bags and bags of dog food and rice like the last time I had to do this (in the boy's room, which is still blissfully clean.) But it's still disgusting to have that stuff raining on your head and arms. The ick factor doesn't shower off all that easily. Oh sure, the dirt rinses right off but the heebie jeebies need some serious scrubbing and the bleck bleck bleck requires toothbrushing, gargling, and then a second shower before it comes off. And of course we have a new influx of eeeee! spiders! that have until now lived all content and happy between the ceiling and floor.

We got the family room/library done in a day. Hopefully it'll only take a day to do the bottom of the stairs (there's a mousie spy hole there--they know we're coming and probably setting up ambushes, but they never man up to ever follow through,) my office and my daughter's room. We hauled off 840 pounds of gross stuff to the transfer station. Unfortunately that day or two won't be immediately forthcoming--we need a good combo of weather, lack of cold/flu stuff, and uninterrupted hours. It's bad to start a ceiling tear down and stop mid-way.

Where will we go from here? We have a cunning plan for what to replace the ceiling with. Details will come out after we've tested the system. Wish us luck!

My noses can smell roses now

I'm better!  I'm better I'm better I'm better I'm better I'm better!!

I still have a cough, but I'm not draining all available fluids out my nose!

I wish I had something more profound to say than that, but that's all I've got for now.  That, and some minor writing news.  I got another story shipped off to a market, and brand new shiny little flash that I've since figured out how to make better than it is.  If it bounces I'll deal with it then.  I really should let some of these things sit longer before I fold them into paper airplanes and send them on their way.  Also, I sent off the next chunk to my current novel-in-progress (as opposed to the novel in perpetual edit, or so it feels like at this point) to the Lucky Labs.  Just barely in time, too.  The plan is to turn in a chapter for every meeting.  If I miss a meeting, I have to buy a round of drinks for the whole group.  Ouch!  It's certainly motivational.

Last of the writing news, I still have two stories that are out past the average response time.  One is only overdue by a couple of days, the other by twenty days.  Best thing to do now is to keep writing. 

In moments of the cute, I saw a small child neatly sitting inside a box just the perfect size so that I could only see her from the ears up.  She looked like she belonged on the set of "Fellowship of the Ring," the scene where the little hobbits listened to Bilbo Baggins tell the story of the trolls that turned to stone. The cute seemed lost on her sibs, who milled around and looked bored while waiting for food. 

Sixteen

My little girl turned sweet sixteen the other day.  Three of us went on a massive shopping spree, bought far more books than clothes, had dinner at Red Lobster, looked at kitties (but didn't adopt any--five are more than enough, thank you!) at an adoption center, and spent the rest of the evening watching comedy.  Well, the kids did.  I crashed hard for a bit, then after everyone had gone to bed I worked on OryCon 31 programming stuff. 

This virus poopyheaded bug thingy, whatever it is, is still making me tired.  When I do sleep, I have unsettling dreams.  Anyway.

She's not any taller, or smarter, or more mature by stepping over this landmark birthday, and yet she is a little smarter, taller, and more mature every day.  She used to fit on her father's lap, head by his knees, feet at his belly, large, blue eyes staring up at him with her hands waving around randomly at first and then with slimy purpose.  She had a grip, this small thing, and a fascination with hair.  I got used to having slimy hair, having my hair pulled and yanked and tangled in moist, pink little fingers.  

She hid cat food under her pillow and in her closet.  It's important to have an emergency food stash in case of, well, an emergency.  She also hated clothes, like her mom.  She'd take them off at unexpected times and streak about.  

A lot of parents talk about their kids' independence.  Me too.  She decided she wanted to go home from kindergarten one day.  She snuck out, and if it hadn't been for a sharp-eyed secretary, she would have escaped to attempt to walk home.  Oh, I shudder ... we moms do that.  That was a decade ago and I still feel the same chill, and again when she almost drowned, and again when she fell asleep on the bus--that time the entire after-hours school system was hunting for her, and if it weren't for the bus driver hearing a small "can I go home now?" from the back of the bus just as he got off to leave the bus barn ...

But she's home, putting dishes in the dishwasher, enjoying her time to herself, talking to herself.  She's a private child, not quiet and subdued but she definitely prefers her own  rational, certain-of-the-future, inventive and determined companionship over that of any other being, human or animal.  When she seeks the rest of us out, it's good to know she does because she genuinely wants to be around us, not because she was lonely or bored.

There's not enough room in a blog post to share all the feelings I have, or paint even a fraction of the memories we share.  It's just good to travel through life with a daughter, this daughter, our daughter, a jewel amid the stardust in the universe.  

Sleeping

I'm fighting off a cold.  Both kids have it.  I've been sleeping most of the time, and when I'm not sleeping, I'm working (writing, housework, filling out a really, really long form for my job application) so I apologize for being away.  I hope I'll be back on Monday with more blogging.

The Chores are Marching One by One

I've been working a lot and getting a lot done in writing, around the house, finances and all that.  I've even been working out.  In the end, though, I think I've overstretched.  Today I've got a headache and sore throat, and I'm slouched.  I feel a little better now than I did a few hours ago.  Breaking my fast with a home-cooked meal (spaghetti) probably helped.  I'm hoping a good night's sleep tonight will help even more.

We've been watching Bernard Shaw plays.  They've been a lot of fun.  They're BBC productions with some really fine actors in them, and so far they've been stage productions rather than movie-like cinema, which is a nice breath of fresh air.  As much as I enjoy movies, I enjoy theater too and I miss it when I haven't seen it in a while.  Watching on a DVD isn't as good as being in an actual theater, though.

Speaking of movies and stuff, we haven't seen Watchmen yet.  We have three tickets we advance purchased a while ago--I think it's finally time to use them.

Time for me to get some rest and some reading done for Lucky Labs, a certain literary award, and the master's writing class.  Hopefully I'll be more coherent tomorrow.  I don't feel sick sick just yet.  Maybe I'll dodge this illness like I've been managing to dodge colds the rest of the winter and get by with just one afternoon and evening of feeling under the weather.

Meanwhile, outside it's hailing.

Uuuuuhhhhnnnnn

I'm not sure if I'm a zombie or a zombie ate my brains.  

Anyway, thanks to C.S. I've made it back from Radcon safe and mostly sound.  I've got a cold, so although I normally don't fear starting a long illustrated blog post and regress report at 11pm, today I think that resting is the better part of valor.  Besides, I've only had cold water to clean up with the whole weekend.  

Actually, it was lukewarm.  But when you're sick, lukewarm doesn't cut it.  I danced around in the limp drizzle (not enough pressure for an actual spray in the system!) briefly on the first morning, making little protesty noises.  The second morning I couldn't face doing that again (and the water felt even colder!) so I gave myself a lukewarm sponge bath.  Not sexy.

Yes, things were perky due to the cold, but seriously not sexy.  At all. 

Shut up!  I had a runny nose.  It was gross.

Anyway, the horrors of this year's facility woes were many, but the actual convention was very fun and I have nothing but words of gratitude for our hosts, and in particular the indefatigable Radcon Bob.  Bob, you're my hero.

Kewl pics from nucular (aka nuclear, but actually radiation--I just wanted to say nucular because it drives certain people crazy) testing facilities are forthcoming, as are reports of what panels I remember.  I'm pretty sure I was on panels, and I remember listening to some too.  Or maybe that was a fever dream.  There were penguins at Radcon, right?

Oops, I pushed my character and he broke

I'm still feeling yucky today.  Hopefully this will lead to long term betterness but for now I'm sore and feeling bloated and low energy.  Up until now I've been getting up early and getting lots of work done.  That's out the window.  

But I'm still writing.  Thank goodness I can do that while in sitting-on-butt mode.  Today is transcribe day.  I'm wondering if the stuff I hand wrote last night will read well on the screen.  Yet another opportunity to edit by looking at the prose from a different angle, though personally I don't care to edit on unfinished novels.  Then (yay!) I can launch into the next chapter.  I ended the last chapter with a bad thing happening and I'm eager to get writing on the consequences.  This will push all the characters to their limits.

There are times when writers push their characters too hard, though, so that they snap and then just curl up in the fetal position and do nothing or thrash around uselessly.  That becomes annoying to a reader fast, especially if they're smarter than the character on the screen.  It turns into a one-sided shouting match.  What do you mean there's nothing you can do?!  I can think of three things off the top of my head and I don't even care if you do any of those, just do something!

That isn't a usual problem, at least not with beginning writers.  They tend to go soft on their precious babies.  But when the challenge is well beyond what the character can handle, it's just as bad for the reader.  Now, this is different from a character being momentarily overwhelmed.  That can be very, very fun.  But eventually (and sooner rather than later) the reader wants the characters to find their feet, regroup, come up with a new strategy, or even just run away, so long as they're active on the page.  And if the characters come back stronger and smarter and overcome the challenge that originally knocked them on their asses, that's sweet.

Lecture (rant) of the day is over.  Use the rest of your classtime for homework or free-time quiet activities.  Thanks for listening!

Dizzy come, dizzy go

I don't know if it's because I've been sick with that poopyheaded virus or because things are worse this month than usual, but I had to come home from work after only ten minutes due to pain and dizziness.  I'm still a bit dizzy, but better after a nap, a hot bath, and keeping my feet up for several hours.  I got some writing done too, into a spiral notebook.  Man I'm slow at handwriting.  I may have to borrow one of the two family laptops for a bit.

Tomorrow I have a couple of doctor appointments that will hopefully lead to a better, stronger, faster Kami.  I'm really feeling my age, no, older than my age, today.  Can I go back to feeling like a forty year old please?

In the good news department, looks like I'm in the master class for spring 2009.  Woot!  Paraphrased from the description:

The master class is two weeks of writer boot camp.
We give you a complete understanding of the business, how and why it works
the way it does, and we even run the writers through the next ten years of a
career as practice while they watch other writers do the same.  And at the
same time, we work on your craft, spotting what you are doing right and what
you need to improve to make your fiction sell regularly.  Very intense two
weeks.  Six full-time writers and editors, about 14 writers.  Very one-on-one all the way through.  As people have said, this workshop takes years and hundreds of mistakes out of your career.  

To say that I'm looking forward to this is a massive understatement.

Staring out the window, wishing

Looks like Kat is going to be fine.  She's had an allergic reaction to something, possibly a penicillin shot or a pain killer shot from when she was messing with her incision.  She's on mild, low-dose steroids and should recover nicely.  Partly thanks to the meds and partly thanks to a draw of fluids from the lump to check the contents, her lump is a little smaller already.

I'm feeling better too.  My voice is almost back to normal and I had enough energy to go out in the rain and put nets over some plants the deer decided needed pruning.  The plants are fine, so far, mostly, but another hit and they'd be pretty sad and might not even recover.

I get weather reports twice a day--once in the morning, once in the evening--a forecast that looks at the weather every few hours out a couple of days.  It looks like the rain will trail away but I don't see any sun as of the latest forecast.  Ugh.  My question is, will we ever warm up enough to make planting the tomatoes and peppers in the ground worthwhile?  Maybe they'll just be in containers in the greenhouse until July.  I've got grasses and herbs to put out and the ground is like sludge--it's better to wait to plant until the soil drains and becomes friable again.  The slugs are rampant.  They love this weather.  They can be out all day and night.  The birds are miserable.  They've got to be having a tough time raising hatchlings in this.  The goats are annoyed.  The dogs are sullen.  We haven't had a river walk in ages.

The second year after we moved here we didn't have good enough weather for me to plant a veggie garden until June.  Back then I didn't have very many perennials and so the garden was a wash except for some strawberries and zucchini.  Thinking about that makes me feel better about the conditions this year.  No matter what happens we'll have a great perennial ornamental garden, heaps of herbs, grapes, elderberries, blueberries, currants, rhubarb, and even if they're just stuck in containers all season, peppers and tomatoes.  I bet I'll even get some nice zucchinis again.  They always produce, even in a short growing season.  Looks like the peach trees, unless the rain makes them mold and mildew to pieces, will have fruit and we always get some apples and pears no matter how bad the year is.  I guess I don't have that much to whine about.  Besides, the weather is a godsend for some people.

So here's me looking at the bright side of things.  I'll try not to be too much of a little kid, forehead braced against the window, staring into the rain and wishing.    

I didn't get into details about the storm the other day because I was feeling so yucky.  I'm still feeling pretty yucky, but better.  I'm not looking forward to sleeping tonight as last night I woke up in a nasty sweat.  Sleep came in brief snatches after that as I shivered, sweated, shivered some more, slept fitfully, and sweated even more.  I put on a long sleeve shirt and kept a towel on hand to mop up after myself.  I'd say it's an impending chrone thing, but I'm just a tad bit too young (not by too terribly much, but not within the standard age range for my family) and also I had someone ahead of me with the same illness go through the same thing.  He sweated for four nights.  Man, I hope it doesn't take four nights for me to get done with it.

Anyway, the storm:

Dove gray skies, distant sounds of thunder

Silver boiling into black

Flashes

Standing on the deck 

Eyes reflect jagged bolts that span miles

Funnel cloud orange skies to the west

Rain, light, then pouring, then dumping

It doesn't rain here like this

But it does

Then hail comes

A step back

Heavy hail, thunder hail

The storm is overhead

Trees sway, branches snap

Leaves shred

Dogs running, whining, howling, eyes wild

A rescue is launched into the storm

Prying up deck boards

A trapped white dog scrabbles to freedom

Dogs in the house, running, trembling

Wet animal hair and the scent of a fresh clearcut

Spruce, maple, shattered flowers

Hanging baskets sway, filled with white

No birds, no life, no sound but storm

Hail spills like river rock onto skin and bone

Salvage all we can, all we think to salvage

Fill a glass again and again with hail and whiskey

The thunder and hail pound music on the world

Until, softly

The rain comes again, softly

Thunder, long thunder

Rumbles into the night, a long goodbye

The black and gold caravan rolls into the distance and is gone.

I started to make a list and it got kinda poetic on me.  Please excuse the amateur.  

Time to settle down, I think.  I hope I don't sweat for hours again tonight.

Handwriting and Butterfly Wings

I'm getting better, but after a day of trying to do just a couple of things (I selected laundry and vacuuming) I'm all tuckered out.  I've found that sitting at the computer isn't conducive to writing in my condition because muscle soreness makes sitting in the kneeling chair uncomfortable, so I'm going to give a notebook and a good ol' fashioned pen a try.  I haven't hand written in a long while.  I'm looking forward to it.

I went for a short walk in the garden today to survey the storm damage.  A lot of annuals were crushed, though none look like they were fatally hammered by the hail.  At a distance the garden looks pretty normal, but when you look more closely you see torn leaves, stem ends where leaves and buds used to be, broken branches, and debris all over the ground.  The debris is the most interesting part.  The wind was pretty fierce and so leaves from all different kinds of plants are mixed together.

My vote for prettiest debris:  the torn petals from the tree peony look like butterfly wings on the ground.  Sad but beautiful.

Llama Trials

The doc said I'd get worse before I'd get better.  Man, he must be psychic.

My voice is still shot.  My temperature is going up, not down.  I'm getting a few little red rashy spots.  I'm the picture of yuckiness.  But, as bad as I feel, I'm still not as bad as I was with the dread flu when we came back from Victoria a couple of years back.  Anyway, I can still dance the dance of sickness superiority (I think) because my temp hasn't even gotten close to the temps the boy and the man got when they got sick, aaaaand I have a productive cough.

(Oooo!  Ahhh!)

Yes, it's true, the boy and the man can't seem to manage a productive cough, while the girl and I are practicing for the llama spitting trials later this year.

Well, I guess I'd better get back to full time suffering.  Be well out there!