tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-129798922024-03-12T22:20:20.042-05:00Anomalous CognitionAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.comBlogger533125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-7875883889052402242012-04-22T21:24:00.004-05:002012-04-22T21:24:55.311-05:00Like pulling teeth.My teeth hurt. You know things are bad when you're thinking about how to persuade your dentist to give you a root canal. Stupid metal fillings, that's all I have to say.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-87095834634608238832012-04-12T20:36:00.002-05:002012-04-12T20:36:55.117-05:00Lord and lady of the fliesWe've had a fly problem. Tens, dozens of flies, crawling on the windows, hopping around in the kitchen, gathering in my seedlings. "They're coming in from outside," Eric said, having read up on fly life cycles, and suggested we clean out under the back steps. But while this is undoubtedly a good idea, I thought that was unlikely to be the problem. And if it was, weatherstripping and a sweep made more sense. No, I was certain that something had died, probably in the basement, and we would have to find it and get rid of it. And before my mother comes for Maia's birthday in two weeks.<div>
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So tonight I said, "I want to figure out where the flies are coming from." In reality it could have been just me who did it...but I didn't want to find a flyblown corpse in my dark basement alone. </div>
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So Eric got his shoes and accompanied me. More flies, dead ones this time, littered one of the back rooms in the basement. (The stairs go down to the laundry room, then curve back to this room, then to the one containing the furnace and the crawl space access.) "Okay," Eric conceded. "The source must be inside if there are this many dead."</div>
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We poked through storage boxes, the shrouded baby carrier, the defunct tool bench. "This is a fly graveyard," Eric said, looking at the tiny corpses. "But what killed them all?"</div>
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"I would think they starved," I offered. "Only no, wherever they're spawning should be able to feed them."</div>
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"Maybe not for long," he said darkly, and tried in vain to turn on a light over the tool bench. (Hey! I've never committed a true unintentional Tom Swifty before.) "Should I get a new bulb?" I offered.</div>
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"Yeah," he said, and proceeded to the rearmost back room while I tripped up the stairs to get a bulb. </div>
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I heard a <i>whunk</i> and an "Oh!" and shouted from the top stairs, "What is it?" Then, noticing how loud I was, said, "I'll be down in a minute."</div>
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"Okay," he called, as Chloë called for me from her bed. </div>
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"Who is here?" Chloë asked when I poked my head in.</div>
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"Nobody. We're moving things in the basement to find where the flies are coming from. So we can clean it out. Nothing to worry about." I removed myself and went back downstairs.</div>
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"What is it?" I called when I was back down in the basement and braced to hear "a squirrel must have gotten in..." or something similar.</div>
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"The crawl space door was wide open!" </div>
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We'd been in the crawl space earlier in the year to fix the front porch, and evidently never closed it. Now that I think about it, I feel like I remember wondering if we'd closed the door, but never going to look before I forgot. Evidently the flies bred outside in a sheltered place, as flies do, and found the wide-open crawl space door...</div>
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"They'd fly through here," Eric said, gesturing at the now hammered-closed door. "They found themselves in darkness. They went toward what light they could find, which was that," gesturing toward a cutout in the wall that led toward the laundry room, "and the ones that were smart..."</div>
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"You realize you're talking about flies."</div>
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"...The lucky ones made it upstairs."</div>
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I looked around as we circled back to the stairs. "So what we should do is wait a couple of weeks and then come down here and clean up all the dead bodies."<br /><br />"Yep," he said, and we mounted the stairs to get back to the light, and leave the fly graveyard.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-52985401899098337602012-03-27T10:08:00.001-05:002012-03-27T13:00:04.813-05:00Finally ready to start participating in protests.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca">The things I want to say, too.</a> Only better.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-43687080080419450202012-03-01T09:51:00.000-05:002012-03-01T09:51:29.744-05:00Hard to say<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
..."Oh, it's Japanese food? Someone told me it was
Chinese!" I heard at work yesterday, from the other side of the division
in the room I was in. Based on a flier Eric got by mistake yesterday, they were
talking about a seminar on retiree investments held at a local Japanese
restaurant.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Oh, Jap food and Chinese food are all the same,"
said the new guy.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"Did he just say 'Jap'?" I asked my coworker, T, on
this side of the division, a little louder than I would have normally. The new
guy was going on in the same vein: oh those Orientals, all the same. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I got up to go talk to him, and heard J, on the other side
of the division, say, "You shouldn't say things like that. A client could
be coming through."<o:p></o:p></div>
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The new guy laughed at her, and joked, and went on. I got up
and sat down twice, wanting to go say something and horribly fearful at the
same time. Finally the new guy made another similar remark and J, defeated
because no one around them was helping and the new guy wasn't listening, said
quietly, "I can't agree with you, sir. I don't want to hear this." <o:p></o:p></div>
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And I got up and rounded the corner and said, "I agree.
'Jap' is a very pejorative term. Please don't use it again." I looked the
new guy in the eye, and he sobered, and said, "All right." <o:p></o:p></div>
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I went back to my chair. T had gone in the meantime and I
leaned over the desk and realized I was actually trembling. Not long after, the
new guy came over and said, "I want to apologize. I didn't know Jap was an
offensive word. I was using it as an abbreviation." I'm not sure I believe
this, though he <i>is</i> fairly young, or
whether it excuses it. But I smiled and accepted his apology. I don't know
whether J got a similar one, or if he thought he'd personally offended me but
not her, or if my relatively superior position made him worry. I <i>was</i> waiting for him to say "I
didn't mean to insult your ancestors," or something similar, but he
didn't. Not that it matters. I'm not Japanese, but here I am with my flat face
and epicanthic fold to tell you that racist terms are not cool. <o:p></o:p></div>
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But I also hate how agitated I got over confronting him, and
how close I was to saying nothing. I'm hardly a confrontational person, but I
should still be able to stand up for what's right. I'm ashamed that it was so
hard for me. I guess I haven't had enough practice.<o:p></o:p></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-80347577109581736872012-01-28T21:34:00.001-05:002012-01-28T21:34:18.719-05:00A tale of two storiesI bought two books at the Borders closing sale. --That's misleading. I bought dozens of books at the Borders closing sale. But I'm thinking about just two of them. I finished reading one last night: <i>Mechanique: A Tale of the Circus Tresaulti</i>, by Genevieve Valentine. It's about...hmm. It's about a circus made of people who are part machine in a postapocalyptic world. Part machine in a steampunk sort of way, not a Terminator sort of way. I don't read for style, but the style of this one caught me. And then the people, the world...if you look at the plot itself it's a fairly simple, fairly small plot, but you can't really do that because the characters' motivations and creation (within the story, that is) and the world itself are all so connected. It's a gorgeous book. All angles, no curves, but it circles back on itself and opens up little surprise doors and illuminates this grim life these grim people lead until it's beautiful. I generally don't write letters to authors, but I'm considering writing to this one to demand to know when her next is coming out.<br />
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So I finished it last night. I really should have just ended the night on that, but I like to have a book with me when I'm going through my end-of-the-night rituals (i.e., showering, brushing teeth, packing lunch). So I went to our recent-purchase stack and picked out <i>Timecaster</i>, by Joe Kimball. I'd picked this one out because the premise is similar to, though flashier than (and a near copy of <i>Minority Report</i>, as I understand it, though I've never seen or read it), a story idea I've been carrying around, and I thought it would be a fast, light read. It <i>was</i> in its way. Nine pages later I laid it on the post where we put things that need to go downstairs so that I could put it in the Goodwill pile.<br />
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It probably doesn't help that it came right after <i>Mechanique</i>, but I read some parts aloud to Eric and he was unimpressed too. There was immediate "as you know Bob." There was the self-described alpha male character being a jerk when he thought he was being assertive and alpha-male, though it only served to amuse me that he was simultaneously being kept by his wife. It may be the description of his wife that got me. One of the last real redheads? Gorgeous and svelte, with emerald green eyes? Oh, and she's a (legal) prostitute, too? The argument between the main character and his wife reminded me of the arguments between Mal and Inara in Firefly, but that's not actually the recommendation it sounds like because Mal is being a jerk in those arguments, too. Also, the "I only married you because it was cheaper than continuing to hire you" line was not as funny or endearing as the author probably intended it. And I got no sense that the character was intended to be a jerk. He seemed intended to be a wish-fulfillment sort of character. My sense is that I wasn't the intended audience. So, it can go to someone else who is part of that audience, and I'm sure he will enjoy it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-1069166272368545812012-01-10T23:32:00.000-05:002012-01-10T23:32:15.693-05:00In which I get a passSo I survived the holidays intact...actually, a couple of pounds heavier, which doesn't normally happen to me. It was kind of interesting to notice the change, how I craved sugar so hard, and how now that they're over and my stress level is somewhat lower, I don't. The stress wasn't just due to the holidays, though that didn't help; work has been and continues to be crazy-busy, and I've been fretting over various issues in my life (job-hunting, house-selling, my marriage, finances, hobbies, housekeeping, and my teeth). Also I'm not getting nearly enough sleep. Somehow the status quo is that on the weekends, Eric gets to sleep in, and I catch a nap if I'm able to synchronize the girls' naps. I'm always on call for middle-of-the-night issues because I waken more easily (and am still nursing in Maia's case). This is not the way to run a successful Mamarchy.<br />
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So with the new year, though that wasn't how I planned it, I'm trying to get more sleep and worry less. Eric asked me the other day to try focusing on the positive aspects of my life, and I tried it and found it a very alien aspect. Which is not good. So I'm going to get myself some more practice in it, because I know that negativity does beget itself and doesn't taste good going down. It also helps that our finances are doing better with the help of a W-4 adjustment, a raise, and an impending refinance of our mortgage--and this last helps me just settle down to the reality that we're unlikely to sell the house, which in turn has calmed me down some. Apparently, sometimes certainty can be better than hope.<br />
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Speaking of certainty, I got a "pass" on my full request for Shoelace. Which I had expected, so it's not terribly disappointing, but a little bit, and I'm also feeling odd that I don't have anything out--which is really weird considering the very short amount of time I've had anything out on submission, ever. I'm still working on getting myself time to work on Lead Ghosts; with my sleep deprivation I decided that nights are not a good idea, which leaves my lunch hour. I've been skipping my lunch break at work to try to catch up, but I'm starting to realize I'm simply not going to, and so I may as well benefit from the break.<br />
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I did find an article with suggestions on improving writing efficiency (can't find it at the moment--YA fantasy author, I think, or just fantasy; got up to 10K words a day) and really liked the one, that prior to each writing session one should sit down and write down everything that's supposed to happen in the next scene, because it's tough to figure out what's supposed to happen at the same time that you're trying to concentrate on writing well and depicting mood and showing the scene and all of that. Which makes a lot of sense, and made me recall that I did something like that (though not as detailed) for PV. So I'm going to try it again.<br />
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Also started thinking about how an urban fantasy set in South Korea with tokkaebi instead of vampires would be fun. We'll see where that goes, if anywhere. I'm also excited about Lead Ghosts, which makes me happy. Now to make sure I actually take that time and work on it. That would also help lessen my stress, I think.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-65484252591484281592011-11-16T21:41:00.001-05:002011-11-16T21:41:32.644-05:00Yesterday's work-induced fit of rage"Units! Units, people! UNITS OR IT DIDN'T HAPPEN."Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-18082593243026614642011-11-14T22:07:00.000-05:002011-11-16T21:50:47.478-05:00OnwardA few weeks ago I started out a post with "I'm worried about my marriage." Then it devolved into a screed about all the things I've been frustrated about since I went back to work after Maia's birth, and then I took it off Blogger to write and print, and then I put it away because I didn't want Eric to see it. We've been talking about those issues, and I'm trying to work on them. It's tough. I don't know what's changed since Maia was born (...aside from the obvious), but something has, and it's made me discontented. I'm pretty sure it's me, not him, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't work on it.<br />
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Anyway. It is now the Christmas season, apparently, as evinced by the Christmas trees put up at work (really? I can kind of understand the giving-tree one because people like to do shopping early, but the others are just for decoration and <i>dude</i>, I <i>like</i> Thanksgiving) and the mint M&Ms in my stomach, and my thoughts have turned to Christmas crafts. They can do this because I am done, done, DONE with Shoelace. Done as in, I sent a query in to a "<a href="http://confessionsofawanderingheart.blogspot.com/2011/10/and-its-official.html">contest</a>" in which the literary agent promised actual, stream-of-consciousness feedback to all queries sent in at a particular hour (well, she didn't say stream-of-consciousness and that isn't what people got from the sound of the comments, but that's how it sounded to me), thinking I'd get some useful feedback. Then she actually requested the manuscript and I said "Well *!&#" because I'd noticed a problem with the end that I was working on fixing, but hadn't worried about hurrying because what were the chances? The moral of the story here is that it is a bad idea to count on one's ineptitude in one area because it will fail, giving one's ineptitude in other areas a chance to shine. Ahem.<br />
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So I have closed the book on Shoelace (which does, in fact, have an actual title...I forget if I've ever mentioned this) and am pondering some background for the next story, currently titled the unfortunately-acronymed Variable Density. What would the Republicans think if there were superheroes running around? That's what I'm wondering.
I found that doing an actual query submission made me think about my writing differently. It's very refreshing. I also recognized, during the frenzied finish-this-quick-so-I-can-send-it session, that writing is a bit like quilting for me in that at some point, I lose all perspective on my own work and can no longer judge its merits because I start seeing it in negative. I don't see the work, I only see what I had wanted it to be but wasn't able to make it. With quilting I ignore that. (It helps that quilts are more difficult to revise than manuscripts.) I should learn to do some of that with writing, too. And then maybe I'll be able to let the next project go after a couple of go-rounds.<br />
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And, as I tried to say two paragraphs ago, it's Christmas as far as crafting is concerned. I have a pair of <a href="http://issueswithknitting.blogspot.com/2006/08/fresh-fiber-fish-fer-sale.html">Fiber Fish mittens</a> to make for Chloë, and a quilt to finish for her because she's in need of a big-girl blanket that she doesn't want to lay on the floor and pretend is the beach, which is what she does with the only other big blanket she has, a thick teal number made by Mom. I have to make something for Maia because I feel bad about neglecting her just because she has everything she needs. I want to make some mittens for my niece Rae, because she was interested in Chloë's the last time she was over here, though I'm not positive this wasn't just because it was so cold I was making all the girls wear mittens and hats and she wanted to go outside. And I have handprint wall hangings to make, assuming I can get a good tracing of Maia's. I'll be keeping busy up until Christmas. I prefer it that way. Having crafting time really helps make me feel like a person rather than just a parenting, working automaton.<br />
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This post has no direction or cohesion at all, but I wanted to say something, so I feel better. Status: loving my children, ambivalent about my husband, finished my book, pondering the next, ambitious on my Christmas crafts. As Chloë keeps saying these days: Onward!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-54848481096907370362011-09-23T11:53:00.000-05:002011-09-23T11:54:27.592-05:00SimplicityI've been cutting out eight-inch squares of purple, blue, and green fabric for a quilt for the last few weeks. Chloë has an Elmo book, you see, on one of the pages of which Elmo is jumping on his bed with his favorite teddy monster, and on his quilt is a simple, impossibly puffy quilt of blue and green squares. Chloë has repeatedly talked about the quilt, and I got the brilliant idea of making her one like it since she needs a bigger blanket for her bed anyway. This was foolish as I have no time, and also want to make a (also very simple) baby quilt for my brother's best friend's new baby before we leave for Seattle next week. But I've been cutting out squares here and there, and now I've got enough to start sewing. <br /><br />I thought it would be nice to get done slowly over the next few weeks, a couple of seams at a time, or however long Chloë was willing to bring me squares and sit in my lap and keep her hands away from the sewing machine. Alas: she's scared of the noise. It's too loud, she says (or "tu howd"). Ah well. When I get this other quilt done...because I will, right?...II'll start sewing hers together, a few seams at a time, in the evening. I'd had a much more complicated and awesome one planned before Maia was born: bears in the woods on a moonlit evening. But it didn't happen before Maia was born, so it won't for a while; and now I don't think I'd do that design since she's much more into water at the moment. (She might appreciate the bears, but only if they looked enough like Care Bears, which wasn't my plan.) <br /><br />I miss doing complicated hobby work, but there's also something charming about the simplicity of a few squares here, a few square there. I also miss the sourdough and artisan bread I used to make, but I like having Chloe help me pile in the ingredients for our standard wheat every week or two (Though I do plan on trying a variation of King Arthur's sandwich rye soon. Also a cinnamon/applesauce bread for French toast inspired by their banana yeast bread. I'll probably freeze it in individual slices so we can store it for just that purpose.) Eric asked me about the logistics that a job on Bainbridge Island would entail, and when he learned that the commute would be long and we couldn't afford to live close, decided it wasn't for him. "Come home at 6:30, then immediately dinner, bathtime, bedtime," he said. "Not a thrilling idea." I think I always knew I would be retooling my life to fit around children, and this is what it looks like. I'll make them complicated quilts when they're older and can appreciate it more anyway.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-24762844968139700982011-09-03T02:54:00.001-05:002011-09-03T02:57:27.569-05:00Sometimes my subconscious has no subtlety at all.Epizeuxis: a word you wake up with in your head at 3:30 before realizing that that crying is the baby, the baby, you idiot.
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<br />(I had to look it up.)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-75264009126160585332011-08-26T08:10:00.000-05:002011-08-26T08:11:08.381-05:00Ladies who bakeYesterday was the first time in years we've bought sandwich bread. Eric keeps saying that now that he's used to "real" bread, he'll never be able to go back to the storebought "bread" (complete with scare quotes). It's very endearing, if exaggerated, but with him still sick and Chloe too, and me suffering from my sleep loss (Maia gets up to five hours between feedings, but only every once in a while and only right after she goes down for the night, and I never go to bed when she does), I haven't been able to make bread and we had a grocery run and needed something simple for dinner. So Aunt Millie's whole-wheat bread went into the cart and we had grilled cheese sandwiches when we came home. And it turns out I really can tell the difference; there's a slightly odd taste to the storebought bread (which admittedly might be the length of time it's sat in the plastic bag, but might also be the additives) and while it's nice and soft, it doesn't stand up to buttering or grilling the way mine does. Eric's made me promise to make bread this weekend.
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<br />I joined a new writing site, <a href="http://www.ladieswhocritique.com">Ladies Who Critique</a>, intended to help members find critique partners. I'm not quite actively looking yet, as Shoelace isn't done, but I'm close. I hope. I've reclaimed my lunch hour from my work to-do list and am plodding along. It's really interesting how easy it is to write a scene now, assuming I know what I'm doing in it. I know these characters; I know this world; I know this story. I just haven't happened to write this scene before. After this long, I should know it this well, I suppose. I think that if I do not finish Shoelace by the end of the year, I'm going to stop. It's enough. I'll give it up and start something new. With luck the deadline will spur me on. (Getting away from work clients helps, too.)
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-23703783466733353122011-08-05T12:29:00.001-05:002011-08-05T12:29:45.212-05:00A small illnessI wonder how many blog posts/diary entries/letters have begun with "I hate being sick." Or how many have begun with "I wonder how many..." (but let's not go down that recursive road). At any rate, I've had a nasty cold that knocked me out of life other than what was absolutely necessary: feeding Maia, caring for Chloe, going to work because the US sucks for maternity care and I don't have any sick days and we can't afford to lose any of my time. Ahem. I went to bed as soon as Chloe did for several nights running, or tried to; Maia's close to but not yet at the point where we want to start sleep training her (she needs to space out her meals a little longer first) and so if she wouldn't sleep, I couldn't. Theoretically Eric could watch her, but he's got a deadline on the textbook he's writing, and I do want to let him have the evenings child-free when he can since he has them all day. Of course that doesn't, or shouldn't, mean that he goes off duty when I get home, because that would mean I was working all hours while he wasn't, but I can be kind. <br /><br />I'm still not well, but my body is in cleanup stage: cough winding down, gunk removed not being replaced, hunger starting to come back. I read the other day a description of shingles that ran something like "They don't just give you medicine for the pain, they give you antidepressants to manage your mood" and realized with interest that I'm never depressed when I'm sick. I mean, I'm unhappy about being sick; but I don't have that my life-is-worthless, the-future-is-dread kind of mopeyness. Maybe it's because when I'm sick, the future is bright because in the future I won't be sick. Or that when I'm sick my body shuts down higher-level things like existential angst and focuses on survival, which is wholly appropriate. At any rate, I look forward to being able to afford existential angst.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-28045625699170200412011-07-19T08:12:00.000-05:002011-07-19T08:13:14.125-05:00As you know, Bob, you like to readI'm reading <i>Five Odd Honors</i>, the last book in Jane Lindskold's latest trilogy which started with <i>Thirteen Orphans</i>, and am distressed. The entire series has needed tightening, writing-wise--way too much chattiness and wishy-washyness of word choice and as-you-know-Bob-itis. I feel certain that the phrase "or whatever" should not appear nearly so much in fiction as it does in real life, especially when not in dialogue. Now in the third book, there's an as-you-know-Bob of such proportions that we've actually got one character telling a second character about the events in that second character's history. And it's not as if the second character has amnesia or anything. He was there, and he remembers. And we already got this information in a previous book. I can think of at least two other ways this could have been handled. I've been extremely fond of Jane Lindskold's books up until now, and so I'm deeply distressed by this. (There was also the issue early in the first book of a character saying she knew instantly that a particular person was Chinese, and then went on to describe his clothes and said she couldn't see his face--but that could have been the character's own problems, of which she had many.) I'm still interested in the story, and I'll still buy her next book, but I'm going to be a lot more wary about it, and that saddens me.<br /><br />Nursing gives me a ton of time for reading...or would if I didn't have a toddler trying to climb up my knees all the time...which is one of its few advantages. For me, I mean. I've gotten through a bunch of books of Eric's, and several new ones of my own. I'm finding it difficult to get through the nonfiction reading I want to finish, though. I think it's because fiction is comfort reading for me, and the newborn months require a lot of comforting. I feel like a bit of a wuss, but that's the way it is. I also feel a bit like Rory from "Gilmore Girls," in that I have three or four books open at any given time now. Right now there's <i>Women and Gender in Islam</i> in the nursery, and <i>Mirage</i> (about Napoleon's expedition to Egypt) in the bathroom, and <i>Five Odd Honors</i> floating. Perhaps my real problem is that I don't like to focus.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-72431883605573003182011-07-18T08:52:00.000-05:002011-07-18T08:57:50.921-05:00On not movingI dreamed last night that I was making my way from here to Seattle, broke and on foot, like in a video game. Sometimes I had companions, sometimes not, and we got into all kinds of adventures and distractions, and if I made the wrong choices I'd just fade out and end up back at the beginning, not always knowing what I'd done wrong. I'd just about made it and was noticing that the mountains made me a little uneasy when I woke up.<br /><br />I've stopped talking about moving with my family. We're still trying, or still trying to try; but the house isn't selling and job-hunting isn't easy in the current economic climate and particularly not when your two-month-old is crying whenever she isn't feeding at night and your two-year-old wants to be played with all the time and wakes up at six. I don't know if my family figures I've given up or is bored with the topic or is just trying to give me a break. I hate that we're not leaving. The house isn't right for us and neither is the climate, either geological or sociopolitical, and Eric doesn't want our daughters in the local school district and I miss my family more than Eric seems to think he'll miss his; but we can't go. I've already wasted my youth in the Midwest (why did I decide I wanted to experience the Midwest?) and it's so much harder to move with a husband and two kids. <br /><br />Blah. I will try to get to the job-hunting as I can. I will continue with all the little things that <i>are</i> nice about our life. Maia is now stopping in the middle of nursing to smile up at me. It's inconvenient, but it's very endearing. Chloë can do complicated sentences and minor reasoning and her hair is long enough to put up into pigtails. It's ice cream and tomato season. And work is slow enough that I can write every day. These are good things.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-42973557977705928582011-07-14T10:38:00.001-05:002011-07-14T10:38:48.432-05:00It just takes the cakeLet's talk about cake. My aunt decorates cakes as a serious hobby--she made them for her daughters' weddings and would have for mine if she hadn't lived 2500 miles away. (Should have asked her anyway, though. My wedding cake was lousy. It tasted fine, and that was about all that could be said for it. Luckily we also served homemade ice cream.) My sister-in-law got interested in cake-decorating a couple of years ago and produced some awesome cakes for her daughter's birthday parties. Personally, I've never been that big into cake (ice cream and brownies are my preference), so I admired from a distance until it came time to make Chloë's first birthday cake. Because of course I had to make it from scratch and decorate it. That's what moms do, right? Or at least that's what moms who like to cook and bake and fancy themselves quick learners do. <br /><br />So I made a lemon cake from my Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, with lemon curd filling and Italian buttercream frosting (I had to go online for that one--and was thrilled because I'm not fond of American frostings as a rule), and decorated it just before serving because there were issues and I couldn't get to it earlier, and it was nothing special looks-wise but it tasted good, and I was pleased. I decided I would get more interested in cakes--mainly the baking, since I didn't want to be seen as competing with my sister-in-law. Eric got me <i>The Cake Bible</i> for my birthday this year, and I made a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and ate about half of it myself. Then I got out the Wilton decorating books my aunt gave me for my wedding shower long ago, which I'd brought out for Chloë's cake but nothing since.<br /><br />And now? Now I'm fantasizing about the truly awesome cakes I could make and frost. Chloë's birthday this year is water-themed, kiddie pools and a sprinkler and water balloons for the kids to play with. I was going to make an underwater cake, with cookie fish and seaweed and maybe some sea stars and piped shells and graham-cracker sand, but then I saw <a href=http://www.coolest-birthday-cakes.com/jello-cake-recipe.html#c5>this cake</a> and decided that I must make a backyard cake, complete with kiddie pool and sprinkler and hose. <br /><br />Luckily, this idea is actually going to be less strenuous, piping-wise, than the fish one, which is good considering I have a two-month-old and a two-year-old and no time to sit down and actually practice piping. It will involve constructing a pool, probably out of pie crust, and cutting up some licorice and other candies, but that I think I can do. <br /><br />So I don't think this will become a new hobby, but it's definitely a new interest. I have to go out sometime in the next two weeks and get a grass piping tip. And when will the next cake be? I don't know, because our nuclear family's next birthday is in April and anyone else would probably be covered by my sister-in-law. Maybe a fall cake is in order.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-76741303354480018652011-07-07T10:15:00.001-05:002011-07-07T10:20:22.958-05:00Being backI realized yesterday that I've been working on Shoelace for <i>ten years</i>. This is absurd. I was <i>single</i> when I started it. Now I have a husband and two children. Admittedly those have been distractions, and also admittedly the story has gone through some drastic changes since I started. But seriously? Ten years? What idiocy. I'm finishing it this year (didn't before Maia came, obviously) and putting it away, for gods' sake.<br /><br />So yes, I have two children now. I've realized I hate the newborn stage of life. I mean, not hate exactly...no, maybe that is what I mean. I resent walking the halls with a screaming baby every night. (Lack of colic would make the newborn phase easier, I admit.) I resent nursing every hour and a half--though that's gotten better recently. I do like her portability, and her smiles, and the way she snuggles up to me when we fall asleep together (though I don’t like the frequency with which we fall asleep together, though this is mainly because it hurts my back). And I know that things get much better from here. Chloë continues to get awesomer, though at the moment also more histrionic. Still, she's great fun. I'm having a slight rocky patch with Eric at the moment--totally one-sided, and totally due to the new baby and the adjustments (and maternity leave) that came with her. Life is crowded but good. I'm just now starting to get back to writing--and I want to really get back to it and put this away. This is ridiculous. Ten years!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-3037524078623947832011-03-22T20:49:00.004-05:002011-03-22T20:58:35.305-05:00Giving it a tryI posted at the baby blog about the frustration I've been feeling lately with housework and hobbies and free time in general. It only touched on the ambivalence on child #2 that I was having in the first trimester and that is coming back now that I'm actively counting weeks until my due date. I'm not sure whether I ought to be discussing that in front of my friends and family. (I guess I don't think here counts. Dunno if anyone reads it.) Also I don't want to give the impression I'm trawling for sympathy or something. A friend wrote to me and offered her services for housework or whatever, which was very sweet but which I don't think I could take her up on (however: if she were willing to entertain Chloë while I worked, that might be different), and Eric expressed concern and wanted to talk about what these projects were that I was stressing out about. (The fact that he had to ask sort of underscores my point, though, I think.) <br /><br />However, we've been working on laundry and dishes the past few days, and I did some vacuuming tonight despite a very tantrum-y night (Chloë, not me), and having finished my nephew's quilt at last I'm feeling somewhat better about the state of things. Not great, but better. I'm working on the Shoelace rewrite at the moment--or anyway avoiding working on it. I'm at a scene that involves politics, and I haven't actually developed the politics of the region for this world beyond a vague sense of small countries with ever-changing alliances and very few certainties. I think this means I am not writing a good book, or at least that I'm not writing this book well. I've learned a lot these past couple of years about writing, I think, despite the fact that I haven't done much of it. It's been interesting, and useful, if disappointing at times.<br /><br />In any case, I have some politics to work out, and a scene to write. I'm currently at 34,596 words in draft 2, most of it new. I'm not sure I can get this done before the new baby comes (April 26, or thereabouts), but I'm going to give it my best try.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-1347554778176146982011-02-10T21:06:00.003-05:002011-02-10T21:08:24.788-05:00Whine, whine, whineOkay, now I'm depressed. (In the sense Eric doesn't like me using that word--the nonclinical one.) There are plenty of good writers out there and I'm no better than any of them and my mind is too fuzzy to focus on being really really good at anything. And I don't want to take the time to write Shoelace right because I don't think it will ever amount to anything. But I can't just give up either. Blargh blargh BLARGH.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-59342654483580519412011-02-08T23:10:00.004-05:002011-02-08T23:20:11.827-05:00In a good placeI am so tired. This is mainly because I set myself up to be so--I'm sitting in bed after taking my shower and having my now-usual bedtime snack. Today's was more necessary than usual because we visited the mothers for the evening and had no real dinner--or rather, I didn't. Chloe had dinner with her cousins, meat and noodles and carrots and grapes, and Eric had an enchilada and part of a frozen pizza. My niece Addie wanted to play, so I had her play chef and make me a fruit salad and a piece of toast, which seemed like things she could handle. (I cut up the apple and peeled the orange that went into the fruit salad. Eric helped her wash the blueberries. Michelle helped her operate the toaster.) She was pleased, and I was happy, but dinner is usually more substantial than that.<br /><br />Anyway. I'm working on Shoelace. I'm doing very well on my self-imposed schedule. I want to have the rewrite done by March 31 so I can submit it to my novel crit group (and wash my hands of it a few weeks before the baby comes). This requires getting through about five scenes a week. I'm a little behind, but not as much as I feared. I'm working on it during lunches (which involves bringing my netbook to work, which in turn involves selling the netbook to everyone who notices me with it--a coworker walked up today and said "What's that?" and it was really hard not to say "Really? You don't know what it is? Exactly what do you work on all day here?") and completing scenes at night, and it's actually very pleasant to sit down with the netbook after Chloe goes to bed and write. Maybe I'll even get into the habit again by the time I'm done...in time to forget it again when the baby arrives, I know.<br /><br />I've got a lot on my plate at the moment, almost all self-imposed. There's the Shoelace rewrite. There's Fiberscapes, the secret project Carol and Charlotte and I are working on--we're going to (we think) take a booth at the Ann Arbor Fiber Expo in October, and so are working on spinning yarn, dyeing fiber, making ornaments, writing patterns, and generally indulging in fibery productive goodness. I'm a bit more concerned about our pace and output than either of them seem to be, but that's just my style, and with luck my fears are completely ill-founded. Then there's Gabe's racetrack quilt, which I hope to have done by his birthday, which is in less than a month. (I spun tonight instead of working on the quilt, but I really need to devote the rest of the week to finishing the top. I need to applique a grandstand. How do you applique a grandstand?) And then there's the packing up of the craft room to make it into Chloe's room. Oh, and constructing my new dresser and doing taxes and putting up new curtain rods and so on.<br /><br />So I'm busy, but delightfully so. It's really, really nice to feel I have a lot to do and I'm doing it. That I'm capable of this while having a child and supporting a family. I know everything's going to go off-kilter again when Maia is born, but I have faith that I'll get back to this place, eventually.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-73925812892280950752010-12-22T16:40:00.000-05:002010-12-22T16:41:14.368-05:00Christmas craftsChristmas finds me almost ready this year. I keep thinking that Christmas is tomorrow, because we get the rest of the week off work, but no, it's Saturday. Good, because things are still undone, but (even though I feel like it's Christmas Eve) I know I've got time to get them done. We're doing candies for friends and family; two more batches (one easy, one moderately involved) and we'll be done. I've got a doll to finish for Chloe; it needs jointing and clothes. I've got a quilt wall hanging to finish for Eric; it needs a couple of appliques (done McKenna-Ryan-style because it's a wall hanging) and some mild quilting and then binding. I've got a couple of bracelets to make for little girls, which will just mean stringing beads onto jewelry elastic, already purchased. I'm doing all right.<br /><br />I've been knitting a stocking of my own design for Chloe, which has been quite enjoyable despite my tension troubles with colorwork. However, I realized a couple of days ago that it looked awfully small. I finally measured it last night and found that my 5 st/in gauge somehow shrank (increased?) to nearly 6, and so the stocking I thought would be nearly 15" around is more like 12". This is too small, especially since the length is correspondingly shortened, so I'm going to rip it out and start again in a bigger needle size. Sigh. But since it's been an enjoyable knit, it'll be okay...especially since I've got a year to do it. (I never expected to finish in time for this Christmas.)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-74680528574181155822010-11-19T16:47:00.000-05:002010-11-19T16:48:17.275-05:00Every day goes byI'm chugging along on Christmas crafts. To do: one woven scarf, one mitten (not actually for Christmas, just to avoid my child freezing her fingers off), several ornaments. Also cookies, etc. I'm looking forward to the holidays. I don't know why. Maybe because I'll have to make myself clean the house again. Mom and Dad coming to visit in three weeks is also good for that.<br /><br />Life is straightening out quite a bit now that I'm into the second trimester. I haven't felt the baby move yet, but I'm okay with that. I'm regaining some foods, including chocolate, and now that it's citrus season I feel able to face the kitchen with reasonable fortitude. We've finally caught up on the dishes and laundry, and I'm working on crafting again, and even critting. No writing. I want to finish the Shoelace rewrite by the time the baby comes, but it isn't looking good.<br /><br /><a href=http://holyort.net/carol>Carol</a>, her friend Charlotte, and I are working on a secret craft project. I'm not sure how secret we're making it--it's not like it's anything illicit, just blue-sky-ish for three busy moms--but that's part of the fun. Anyway, it will involve craft days and financial calculations and should be tons of fun, even if it doesn't work out, just like the Book Club Eric and I used to talk about. Pretty dreams are nice things. I'm starting to realize that's all they are. I'm really not very ambitious. Lazy? I'm not sure. Busy? Am I on the nineteenth story? Is that bad?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-36952704938417341782010-10-22T08:30:00.000-05:002010-10-22T08:31:02.090-05:00R.I.P.Alas! My sourdough starter is dead!<br /><br />I really am sorry; I've kept it going for two years now, and made some good breads with it. It survived my previous first trimester, but this one apparently defeated it. I was rooting through the fridge last night for something to eat (a quest that was much easier to fulfill before I got a parasite growing in me) and thought, "What's in this old jar?" What was in it was sourdough starter and black mold. It went into the trash.<br /><br />I have some dried starter from a year or so ago that I should be able to use to start over. I'm thinking I'm not going to bother right now, though. I'm not finding the time or the stomach to either make or eat a lot of bread these days, certainly not anything experimental, which sourdough usually is for me. And I've got cookbooks full of recipes for yeast-based breads. But it makes me a little sad; this is the first true casualty of this pregnancy, other than maybe the garden (and my jeans). Though I fully intend to grow a few things in pots next year. Tomatoes, if nothing else. I went out last night to pick the last of the tomatoes because there was a frost warning, and took Chloe with me. I put thumbless mittens on her to keep her warm, but she got out of them anyway and chomped happily on the tomatoes I'd just picked, getting seeds all over her jacket and pants. She's going to be so sad this winter, and so happy next summer.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-25977716162714404502010-10-19T19:31:00.000-05:002010-10-19T19:32:09.485-05:00Knitting like mad, or at least a little eccentricWorkin' on Chloe's sweater. Not because it's gotten cold. Because I just realized we're leaving for Seattle in eight days (Eight! Days!) and I have to have Addie's kitty hat finished by then, because it's for Halloween as part of her costume, and we won't be here after that Wednesday. And the needles I need are the needles Chloe's sweater is on. So. Knitting tonight.<br /><br />We're going to Seattle because I got great tickets--$700 including taxes and fees for the three of us--and I'm sick of Toledo and my job and I need to get out of this town and this routine. So we're going somewhere I'll hardly have to look after Chloe and can laze about all day, or go sightseeing or shopping, or take over the kitchen and make cookies, just as I like. And where I can see my family. I miss my family. The plan to move out there hasn't been working out. I've been job-hunting diligently, but no bites, not even any false alarms. No nibbles on the house other than one showing. I'm trying not to let it get to me. It would help if the shelf in the bathroom closet wouldn't keep collapsing on me, and if my dresser weren't suddenly, rapidly deforming under the weight of my clothes.<br /><br />I'm also a little depressed a bout giving up the garden, though I've known that one was coming. With a toddler <i>and</i> a pregnancy, there's simply no way I'll get out there and do what needs doing. This seems ridiculous, until I remember everything else I'm also trying to do. <br /><br />So, lots of knitting the next several nights. When I'm knitting I want to spin. When I'm spinning I want to read. When I'm reading I want to quilt or garden. When I'm...you get the idea. But I do get things done. I've got to remember that, right?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-33268567825141068242010-10-18T20:38:00.002-05:002010-10-18T20:50:42.771-05:00Matters of stateWell, hello again. I've just recently closed down another blog, the garden one, so maybe I'll be able to remember to turn to this one. So far it's mostly been the baby blog and my worknotes (e-mails to myself). <br /><br />Let's see. Important news: I am pregnant again. Go ahead, ask me if it was planned. I'm due April 26, and have just given up job-hunting because I couldn't in good conscience accept a job and then go on maternity leave five or fewer months earlier. I hate this, but there it is. Eric is a stay-at-home dad, teaching a class at a local community college and doing online tutoring at night, and it's working out well except that I need a new computer (or at least a new OS, but the new computer would be really nice too) and we don't make enough disposable income that I'm comfortable getting one. It's going on the Christmas list. Chloë is doing very well; she can walk and say "up" and "Dada" and can point to various body parts, and gives marvelous hugs. I'm alternately excited and scared of having a second one. We're just growing into this nice family. Nevertheless.<br /><br />I finished my most recent craft project, a quilt for my new niece (born last Sunday, I shipped it today, so that wasn't as bad as it could have been). Currently in progress: <br /><br />-a baby sweater for Chloë, nearly finished<br />-a kitty hat for Chloë's cousin's Halloween costume, nearly started<br />-designs for Christmas stockings for all of us<br />-various attempts at making fleece hats and mittens for Chloë for the winter<br /><br />Chloë's already outgrowing the baby blanket I made her, and she'll be moving to a toddler bed next summer anyway, so I'm contemplating a big-girl quilt for her. Also one for the new baby. No ideas yet on either.<br /><br />And I've started the Shoelace revision. Rewrite, rather. I've been doing some research and some thinking and have, I hope, a much better background and outline. Currently I'm some 3500 words in, mostly new. I joined the Novel Club, a quarterly novel-critiquing group, on FMwriters, and I'd like to have this finished to submit by March. Ideally I'd say December, but I know that's not going to happen.<br /><br />My current plan: finish the above craft projects, start on the quilts, do this quarter's crit early, and plod through Shoelace. I've been taking my lunch hour at work to either craft or write, since if I don't I just end up working through, and that's been helpful. It's also been nice that Chloë has become more independent, and importantly very regular in her sleeping habits, so I have a little time every day to work--not much, but some. So that's the plan. (Rule the world/you and me/Any day--I watched Dr. Horrible twice this weekend, and now I want to keep watching it so I can acquire the music and not just keep singing the same phrases to myself.)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12979892.post-13844389859551466902010-05-05T21:20:00.002-05:002010-05-05T21:22:15.508-05:00Frittering away my nightGah. I have this huge list of things that need doing and I've done little bits of things tonight, and yesterday, but nothing's gotten actually done. I made cookies tonight, which was totally unnecessary; yesterday I read some archives of a new-to-me online comic. The quilt isn't quite done, the Mother's Day cards haven't been sent out, the garden isn't ready, the job-hunt lies dormant, the house is filthy. I hate feeling always behind. And this is without getting into things like exercise, or writing, or crafts. I suppose it does account for cooking, since I just said I pushed my actual list aside for cookies. Good cookies, I must say. But still.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15531711794185041057noreply@blogger.com0