He's just not that into you, America

He wants your love.  He wanted your vote.  He's just not that into you.

You know the old adage, "Once a cheater, always a cheater,"  but your guy is different.  When you suspected, months ago, that there was a secret server in Trump Tower communicating only with Alfa Bank in Moscow, he reminded you of Hillary's private server.  Her emails are the ones you really want to see.  Sure, he was attracted to Russia, but he never pursued her.

He behaved.  That forgotten, extra server in Trump Tower that was just sending spam marketing for his hotels stopped all communications.  So you let it go.  It was probably all in your imagination, anyway.  But one day, you had that nagging feeling.  You just couldn't let it go. After a little digging, you found another, brand-new server with a new name in the same location and only receiving sporadic communication from one other address: hers.  Russia just won't leave him alone.  But when you confronted him, he stood up in front of all your friends and dared Russia to hack Hillary's emails!  He wouldn't have said that, in front of everyone, if he had anything to hide.

You tried to make it work.  You prayed.  You read.  You wondered if your mom was right and Bernie was the guy for you, after all.  When Hillary tried to tell you she isn't your enemy and she can help you get away from this guy, he became very passionate about babies!  Finally!  He was ready to commit to you and have all of the babies with you.

So you're in!   Sure, it's complicated but what relationship isn't?  His friend Rex is around all the time but that's okay.  It's a tough adjustment making this big commitment and the pressure of all of the babies and their healthcare, you aren't going to make him stop spending time with his guy friends.  It's just, well, this friend Rex has also had a thing for Russia.  So you're not thrilled.  He didn't have an affair with Putin but...Putin's second-in-command?  That guy is totally infatuated with Rex.  Rex wants to spend more time with them but everybody is always against him.  It isn't fair.  If only he knew someone who could relax a few regulations or change a law but don't worry about that.  Russia just sold their biggest oil "jewel" without having to name who they sold it to so there is a whole international mystery there for the world to solve when they aren't watching the Tillerson-Sechin love story. It's like a double-feature.

Try to relax.  Rex is getting ready for his new job, anyway so he'll be busy with that.  Other friends are here, all the time, too.  His friend Bannon?  Of course, you have to keep an eye on him.  He keeps cautioning your guy to be wary of at least half of your friends but he doesn't even know them.  Bannon keeps saying he can tell, just by the looks of them.  You're afraid though, to put any conditions on this fresh, new relationship so you're giving it time.

Your guy just started a brand new job, after all and he is already making his mark!  He is going to be so great at this new job!  He will be the best! We're all going to have tough days, of course but just surround yourself with positive people.  Ask that Louisiana guy out for coffee.  David something.  King? Knight?  Duke.  I think it's Duke.  Try him.   He has some really good things to say about your guy.  That other group trying to keep his attention? Congress?  They're super busy so you'll still be able to distract your guy.

He wants your attention.  So give it to him.  Pay attention.

.

Reality Bites

"A little learning is a dangerous thing." --Alexander Pope

We still do not have a yard.  We have mud.  A little bit of grass is beginning to emerge here and there but it's mostly a vast expanse of mud and puddles bordering our new pool.  I remembered seeing a post or two on Facebook listing flowers and plants that deter mosquitos.  I remembered marigolds but did a quick search to see if the post had any basis in fact and what other plants would work.  Different sites gave similar lists so I headed out for pots and plants!  I couldn't find lavender in the garden center and forgot to look for an actual citronella plant (I didn't think to search the lists while actually at the store) but found marigolds everywhere.

I put pots of marigolds on my upper deck a month ago.  I did not buy any of the large, pretty, colorful flowers as we already had large black bumblebees out there.  (They tend to freak my kids out a bit.  I've reminded my offspring that while they're sweet, they need not worry about a bee mistaking them for flowers so they'll be fine.)  I put marigolds up there and was happy that we've been able to sit up there without many mosquitos!

Later, when talking with a landscaper, I asked him if it was true that lavender would deter mosquitos like marigolds.  He didn't know of any plants that actually deter them and reminded me that my deck is higher and mosquitos prefer to stay low by the ground.  Okay, maybe my marigolds weren't helping but I figured they weren't doing any harm, either so I left them on the deck and yesterday, bought many, many more to plant near my pool.  While I was planting, the kids were having fun in the pool but had to duck once in a while to avoid a pesky wasp or two that were scaring them.  (What happened to those big, fuzzy bees?)  I suggested we take a break and go sit up on the deck for dinner. They could stay in their wet suits but get up and away from the pool and the bugs.  They climbed the stairs half-way and stood there, waiting for another wasp to stop circling the deck, then went to sit down.  My youngest started yelling that our dog "pooped on the chair!"

My Golden Retriever is capable of a lot of mischief but actually climbing up on a patio chair to do that?  Not likely.  I came up to investigate and did find something on the chair but it was not put there by my dog.  I stormed into the house, complaining that I've been trying to avoid chemicals but I now we had a mud-dauber nest on a seat cushion and no spray to kill those suckers.  My husband said he thought we had hornet killer in the garage but while I went to get it, he took care of the nest.  He went out with a fly swatter and swatted the one trying to protect the thing, scraped it off the chair and kicked it somewhere!  (I asked what we would do if it was still full of wasps but he said he stomped on it!)

It was gone but the kids didn't want to sit there, any more.  One went inside and another came back down to sit by the pool, beside the large pots of marigolds as I went back to planting.  I finished the pots up with ivy around the edges, just as a deer came by to investigate!  (I'd forgotten the deer as I was planting my large pots of salad for them!)  The deer left, I cleaned up, poured a glass of wine and got back online.  I wanted to read more about marigolds and see if they really would deter any insects, at all.  This time, I read a little further.  One site said that both mosquitos and many gardeners dislike them for their strong smell but they are a good plant to place by windows and doors to keep the mosquitos from entering your house.  The same site cautioned, however, not to put them on patios or around a pool as the large orange blooms can attract wasps.

It does look like poop.

I Can See Clearly Now

It is time to accept that the Mid-Life-Conflict is a battle I can't win.

In other news, the resolution and clarity on both my laptop and phone are amazingly clear.  Who knew?

LoryKC: 1 MLC: 5

Just when I think I am through with the ubiquitous Mid-Life Crisis, I find that there is yet another inning to be played.

I thought it was over and I had made it through to the other side.  Then I bought a pair of skinny jeans and a revised GRE prep book.  Clearly, the battle has only just begun.

This afternoon, while wearing my new jeans, I opened the book, found the information needed to take a diagnostic test online and sat down to face Question One.  I was asked to write an essay question and had 29 minutes and 54 seconds to write it.  I read, and then typed over, the instructions on how to save often and how to "delete" (using the command key and "x" if typing on a Mac) and typed my first few words.  I used the delete/backspace key immediately and was kicked back to the login page.  Right.  I took a deep breath and started again.  This time, I saved the directions at the top of my page, planning to delete them when I was done, but leaving them there as a reminder not to hit the delete key the moment I mistyped a word.  A typo followed not three seconds later and my fingers automatically hit the delete key before I knew what had happened...and I was back at the login screen.  This went on numerous times.  (At least, by the third time, I had managed to save what progress I had made, so I was able to "resume" my test rather than starting again.)

Finally, with three minutes to spare, I had a convincing 5-paragraph essay complete with examples and a quote from Harper Lee.  I read it and clicked on the option to "grade my essay."  It asked ME to grade MY essay.  Huh?

I went back and clicked on the little bubble indicating that I had completed my essay.  Then sat there and watched the timer continue to count down.  Oh!  Right!  I needed to click the next button.  Except I was to click "next section" (as it had indicated there was only one essay question in this section).  I did not, of course.  I clicked the "next" button, which took me to a screen which reminded me that there was only one question in this section and then gave me 29 minutes and 54 seconds with which to write my essay--on a completely NEW Question ONE.

I think I will try again tomorrow.  And pray that if and when I do take this test again for realz--it is on a PC.  Because my shiny little laptop?  Oh, she is a pretty computer but she is no PC--and clearly she is not in this fight with me!

This Ole House

I want to tell you a story involving a sunken Civil War ship.  There is another story I'd like to share with you about two sisters--who've never met--which is also set during the Civil War.

Writer's Block is not my problem.  Lack of time is occasionally a problem.  Three kids and a dog have a way of needing something when I could be writing, along with all of the volunteer gigs, meetings and chauffeuring that go along with said family.  Still, those are obstacles that can be overcome.

The real problem with getting those stories to you is The One that is in my way.  I started a story years ago with no clear idea where it would go.  I've picked at it over the years until last year, decided that I would absolutely whittle that sprawling mess into a story.  It has evolved so much over the last year but still needs so much.  I need to set it aside and work on a story I can finish--and maybe even sell.  Right?

I have been comparing my stories to homes.  If you have a finite amount of both time and money, the best bet might be to purchase a new or newer home that is complete and has no obvious issues.  There may be another house that you really love but it is much older.  Parts of that roof need replacing, it might not have air-conditioning--there are likely problems with the foundation itself.  But it has character.  It has history.  It speaks to you.  (Yes, I've done this to my husband every time we have moved.  We always end up with a new(ish) home that won't suck up all of our time and money but it doesn't stop me from pulling him over to a 150-year-old house, "just to look.")

Maybe that is why I can't let this crazy book go, or at least not yet.  It isn't just a little fixer-upper.  It is a messy, crumbling mansion with termites and a leaky roof.  The floors are slanted.  But I can work on it whenever I have the time and don't need to apply for a permit, get paint in my hair or even find goggles and gloves.  When it is all fixed up, there will be more to it: who knows what is hidden in the attic?

Momentary grace

We all have that sense--satisfaction--when we have done a good thing.  I always hope I can accumulate grace--that I might bank points, if you will--to counter all of the missteps that I make.  Most of the time, I just pray that I can break even.

Yesterday morning, I took the dog for a run.  Upon returning, I grabbed her water dish to rinse it out.  As I looked down to turn the faucet on, I saw a wasp clinging to my running shirt.  I screamed (I tend to conform to those girl stereotypes only when it comes to bugs) and shook my shirt to knock him to the ground.  By the time I had my foot poised to squash him however, I realized that he had just been hitching a ride and hadn't taken the opportunity to panic and sting me.  So I backed up, grabbed a cup and scooped him up.  I opened the sliding glass door and shook him out onto the deck where he promptly flew away.

I felt satisfied.  Proud.  Benevolent.  I washed my hands before grabbing the flyswatter to go kill the giant fly that had been pestering my daughter in the basement.  My brain didn't catch up with the irony until after the fly had fallen to the ground.

Last night, I pondered whether one "save" might cancel out the other "thwack" as I fished a fruit fly out of my wine.  At least that guy went numb first.

Who moved my cheese?

We talk about the "first 12-hour date" but that wasn't really our first date.  The first one was a lunch date.  I had a cheeseburger (and fries, I assume).  He had an apple.

The following summer, I decided to try giving up meat for 30 days. Those thirty days turned into two decades, although for years my husband tried to wait me out, convinced it was "just a phase."

Just a little over a week ago, my husband decided to go on a "plant based diet" for 30 days and invited me to join him.  He eased into it--the first day he just avoided "anything with a face or a mother."  It's been a vegan week since--no dairy, no eggs.  Unless you count the "butter" on our popcorn Saturday night.  I don't.  (Elaine Bennes covered the whole "is it real butter" issue for us, a while ago!)

We'll see how long this phase lasts!  I know he'll make the 30 days--he sticks to his goals.  He gave up wine for 40 days.  (He invited me to join him on that venture, as well, but I couldn't commit to that one.  This latest kick is much easier.  Wine qualifies as "plant-based.")

Our first lunch date was during the week before Labor Day, twenty-two years ago.  If you had told me then where I'd be now, I never would have believed it.
I never would have seen myself as someone who could give up cheese.

_________________________________

An amendment for my loyal readers:

I was notified via facebook of an inaccuracy in this post, this morning.  I have some great friends (with amazing memories!) who, apparently, do pay attention to what I write here.  My own memory is not so good and I do not fact-check my posts well enough.  I regret to admit that I have not completely avoided meat for two decades.

I tried.  I failed.  

Nearly two decades ago, I was working for J. We were working quite late one night and he bought dinner for everyone.  I was hungry famished.  I was tired.  There were no veggie options and I caved.  I confess--I ate a turkey sandwich.  Nineteen years ago.  

As long as I am confessing (and before my family members rat me out) I also ate a bite of kielbasa on Easter.  In 2008.  My son saw it and has proudly told everyone that I am not a real vegetarian.

I am a fraud.  Now you know.

School daze

The older two went back to school on the 16th and my little guy started preschool yesterday.  So you're probably thinking that with all three kids in "school" I finished revising the novel, finished reading a book and folded all the laundry, right?

I was really, really close.  I went to the dentist, bought a new bra and a coffee.  Whee!

But I am revising the novel.  At 0-dark-thirty.  I've been getting less sleep during this last week than when I had newborns but I just might get this done, yet!  (Delirious, bleary-eyed edits have GOT to be good, right?)

How's your week going?

In which I confess my Sin

It's not a new rule.  It isn't my rule.  It is simple.  If you want to write, you are going to have to write stuff down.
(And if you're a mom, you have to write stuff down; if you're over 30, it's likely you have to write some things down; if you don't sleep enough or if you were scatterbrained to start with, you have to write stuff down.)

If you write, you know your ideas--the good ones, anyway--do not come when you ask for them.  The ideas come while you're walking, driving, showering, cooking and sleeping.  Which is why there are pieces of scrap paper on my nightstand, in the laundry room and in my pocket when I go for a walk or a run.  The laptop is always on in the kitchen, so if I think of something while I'm frying eggplant, I can type a quick note.  I have a few apps on my iPhone so if I'm driving or running, I can at least jot a few words when I have a chance to stop.  I haven't found a way to keep a notepad in the shower yet but I don't always get in there, every day, anyway! ;)

This isn't new.  Life is busy.  We are trying to get other things done so we might have time to write or, if we make the time, we are trying to call up the inspiration on cue.  So the good ideas wait until you have a quiet moment to sit and breathe.

I had a great one last night!  I remember that it was great enough that I included an extra-loud prayer (in my head, anyway) along with the others, that God help me remember today as I was just too tired to write it down.
Apparently, my faith is not as strong as it should be.  As a writer, I know that is the biggest writing sin!  If you don't write it down before you go to sleep, it will be lost by the time you wake.  I prayed for it to stick in my head--and I can remember the two characters involved and where they were--but that's all I've got.  There is a stack of paper, pens AND pencils on my nightstand but I was too tired to pick up a pen. 

You have been hearing me talk about The Great American Novel for decades but you've been wondering why I don't just finish it already.  You had your suspicions but now, I admit it.  Writers who are too tired and lazy to pick up a pen aren't going to get very far.

(If one of you was suddenly gifted with a GREAT SCENE involving characters who aren't yours, in a story you don't know, sometime around 12:30am this morning, please email me.  I know God heard my prayer so I'm thinking when I didn't write the idea down, He went ahead and gave it to someone else.)

WooHoo! Winning over whining!

Happy Monday!!!
(What?  This isn't your favorite day?)
I'll admit, I was dreading this one.  My in-laws were here for the weekend.  (That isn't dreadful; they're wonderful people).  But the kids stay up later when they're here.  Our guests had to get up and leave even earlier than I normally wake the kids for school. I wanted to be up to have coffee and tell them goodbye, before waking the kids.  But I don't do early, well!

While I was trying to get a few last winks in before I had to get up, the dog heard our guests getting ready and began BARKING.  So I rose to quiet her, started with the coffee, and have been going ever since.  The youngest child (the only one who does not have to be anywhere, today) was the first child to wake, of course.  So I was thinking we would both shoot for a nice NAP today.  But by now I've had far too much coffee to ever actually sleep, anytime soon, so I'm typing, cleaning up, chasing the dog, forgetting what I was typing, reading blogs and then standing in my kitchen trying to remember what I was doing.  I'm moving, I feel busy but I haven't accomplished much.  I look much like this:

So I stopped, tried to stand still and check in here.  I read the comments for my last entry.  I had not yet made to Joshilyn Jackson's blog this morning but Tracy had!  I was so excited to see her comment (thank you, Tracy!) and hopped right on over to FTK.  There is my name, right there on her blog!  You can go see it--under "Winners and a whiner!"  (I often fall into the latter category but today I fit in both!) Thank you to you all! (If it weren't for my readers here, I'd have no reason to link to her.)  I can't wait to read American Rose!  (OK, one more thing to "fit in" but it'll be worth it.  Look for a review here, soon!)

I need an undercoat

I know what you're thinking. You think the blonde roots have resurfaced. (They haven't, what you see is grey.) You think I mean I need an overcoat.

It is snowing. It isn't icy, it isn't slippery, I can handle snow. The wind today, however, will cut through you. Not a little jab. Not through to your bones but all-the-way-through your bones. This is butcher-knife wind.

As a mother and sometimes-responsible pet owner, I know the dog would enjoy a good 2-mile run. (Good for the dog and safer for my offspring, who will not be pounced upon immediately upon entering the house, IF I take her for a run). Said pet, a golden retriever, has an undercoat. While I can see the wind blowing her fur everywhichway, she is unfettered. She lies in the snow, rolls in the snow and eats the snow. A moment later, I am almost reduced to tears when I open the door to call her in. Not because I don't want her in the house but because I opened the door. I let the wind in. It hurt.

I have the fire going, am wearing my slippers on and hold yet another hot mug of coffee in my hands. I have to go pick up the older two children from school in half an hour, so they won't be standing out in the wind but I don't want to go out there. I need an undercoat.

Back from the dead

I started to have second thoughts about how "cool" my visit from my ghostly friend was. This weekend, we were hit by a nasty stomach bug. I started to think this might be the end and maybe she was coming to help me to the other side! ;)

My youngest had it Thursday and was fine by this weekend but the rest of the family was hit hard. We seem to be on the mend now so at least it was fairly short-lived but I am far, far behind on my word count!

I hope you all had a great weekend! Here's to a healthy, productive week!

Wednesday's whine

I saw it coming, last week but was really hoping I was wrong.

The three-year-old has been three years old for three days. Hasn't napped in two. He is growing up, ready to give up naptime--but I'm not! (Especially not during the month of November/Nano!)

Stay tuned for Thursday's post:
Tearing
Hair out
Until
Red, bald
Scalp
Distracts people from
All the
Yelling

I need a new coffee mug

My favorite coffee mug sprung a leak, years ago. It now holds pens, pencils and whatever-else-the-kids-put-in-it, next to the big computer in the basement.

"My" mug (when I'm not using a travel-mug) was the "Mama Bear" mug I received at a baby shower for my oldest child. It started leaking around the handle, last month.

So I'm down to my green, glass mug. It used to have gold letters saying:
"HAYSTACK
Program in the Arts & Sciences
Canon Beach, Oregon
School of Extended Studies"

No leaks, yet. It has held up fairly well. Except now, the gold letters read:
"HAYS AC
Pro am in the A s & Sci
Canon O gon"
(and the last row is simply a blur)

I am headed out-of-town this week to see what conferences are like in the 21st century. I wonder if they still sell things like coffee mugs.

You knew it was coming

Well, my few loyal readers, I have let you down again. But if you're still here, reading, you aren't surprised.

The WIP is not quite there. I have so much done but can't wrap it up with a neat little bow, just yet.
Life has been surreal here, lately which would be great for composing but not so much for focusing and editing.

I have allowed myself a very brief extension.

The kids go back to school next week so my worst case scenario involves me finishing it up soon thereafter. Life certainly does not get any calmer or easier with them in school but we'll be back in a more structured routine.

We all have work to do!

My deadline is fast approaching--and I haven't made it very far, yet!
We taught the dog to "drop the ball" yesterday and she was great at it! Today, she is looking at me like I am speaking Dutch.
My son wants to watch an episode of a tv show AGAIN so I paused it and told him we can resume the show as soon as he can tell me what six times seven is. He left, to go play in his room.
It seems we all have a bit of work to do!

Freud's Dad???

I should not be posting after an argument so this will set here...at least, for a little bit.

Eventually though--I want other parent's opinions. I KNOW I get touchy--OK, a little bitchy--or WAY bitchy--about a few things but when it comes down to it, no one ever goes into therapy and blames their dad.

Or do they? If you know of ONE person who actually goes into a therapist and says "If only my DAD had done this...(or hadn't)," please tell me. You will be my favorite person. Evah.

Busted

Trying the "Sugar Busters" plan again but forget to check some things that really ought to be safe--at least, in my mind! My husband bought a platter of deviled eggs from the store for the SuperBowl. I usually make my own but he knows the kids like them and he was buying other snacks.

So, now that I've snagged quite a few for myself over the past two days--now...I look at the nutrition info and ingredients. Sugar AND corn syrup. Both. In deviled eggs. Why?

Mama said there'd be days like this...

My mother did teach me to use recipes to cook.
She also said (often) that I could not walk and chew gum, at the same time.

So--I stay away from gum and enjoy red wine while I cook, instead! Apparently, I cannot drink, talk and cook at the same time.

My husband and I are trying to kick a few pounds, together. So I found a recipe for a pasta sauce (to be enjoyed only with whole wheat pasta, of course) that I thought he'd like. He said it sounded good and asked me to double the recipe--so there would be leftovers this week. So I was sipping, talking and doubling. Rather than 1/4, I put in 1/2 cup of basil and crushed red pepper.

As it turns out, the original recipe called for 1/4 TEASPOON of red pepper.

Wine pairings

We know that certain types of wine complement certain flavors and foods.

Does a particular wine go with a type of book?

In this case, I thought, how could it not?

I love the bottle! Seven zinfandel wines from 7 wineries are included in "7 zins"; it has fleur de lis accents around the top; it has a wonderful poem on the back. The marketing! The decoration! It's beautiful!

Unfortunately, the wine inside did not measure up to the bottle--or the books.