I said, "you want to open the door or should I put the papers through the hole?"
Yep, you guessed it. I am at a loss for words (hard to believe, huh), and have turned to my new favorite writer's block breaker. Turn to page 56 of closest book at hand, and scroll to fifth line. Hence:
I said, "you want to open the door or should I put the papers through the hole?"
The book? "T is for Trespass", by Sue Grafton (http://www.suegrafton.com/). A novel, based on a female private eye, who is always in near death experiences, but always come out with out a scratch, and can't seem to maintain any lover for the length of any book. And she has lots of them. Books, that is . There is one maniacal episode for each letter of the alphabet. A is for Alibi. B is for whatever crime word starts with the letter B. etc ad nauseum.
Anyway, our hero, Kinsey Millhone, a thirty something for hire PI just can''ts seem to get her shit together when it comes to a man. She always chooses the bad boy, not in sync with her one. She has them and tosses them away with remarkable recurrence. I guess creative license on the author's part, has our heroine safe from the nasty real world of aids, psychos, and scum of the earth predators. So carry on, Ms. P. I. Enjoy your ever changing dalliances carefree.
But enough of HER misery.
We finally finished the new master bedroom. We even have custom shades. This is significant to me, because although I have no problem committing to men (unlike our heroine PI), I simply can't commit to window dressings. You read that right. I can buy furniture at a glance, change wall colors and textures, and pull up carpeting on a whim...But there's something about dressing windows...I was in my last house fifteen years, and nearly all the windows were bare or had temporary coverings thrown up (which is also what picking them out makes me want to do!) because I was afraid to make a PERMANENT (shudder) decision.
Hubby kept saying, "We'll just put up blinds or sheets till you decide...Let's just MOVE into the new room."
No way, says I. I knew the minute anything covered those windows, they'd be there till the house fell apart, literally. I would forever be sleeping in a room (amongst other activities) on a ground floor level, protected by nothing more than a sheet held up by staples. And eventually one staple would go, and I'd only be undressing in one corner of the room... then another would come out...I'd be undressing in the closet!
So, i refused to let us move into a new master suite we had just completely renovated, painted, re floored, and added two new closets. Not without window coverings, which I would probably never chose. (Quite the prize my hubby picked, huh?) Of course i never told him about my drapery phobia till AFTER the wedding. I'm not stupid, just indecisive.
Sure enough, that man had my ass in a window designer's office within a week (www.hunterdouglascom). We discussed windows, shade, blinds and phobias. And we actually ordered these really cool shades that open from the top AND the bottom. Last I had seen, mini blinds were all the rage!
Well, they're installed , and as a reward, I got to help hubby hump nine thousand pounds of furniture to our new room. And I get to straighten out TWO closets! Lucky me.
So, it's our first night in our new love nest. And what am I doing, you ask? (Okay, you didn't ask, but just go with me on this one--I won't lead you into middle age porn, I promise...Even the Internet ain't ready for THOSE pictures!) So there I am looking at the two overhead light fixtures....
I says, Honey, we need new lights and fans.
"So go shopping and pick some out." say he.
Did I mention that my last house had all the original light fixtures it came with?
Oh, and now we have to fix the dent in the new bedroom wall, where honey was banging his head against it. Who knew a grown man could cry so hard?
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
The First Step Is The Hardest
Well, my secret is finally out. Not that it was too much of a secret to begin with. I mean, anyone who knows me, or has been briefly aquantainced with me, or worked with me, or read my blog (ha--gotcha, didn't I--I KNOW You're out there, faithful one(s)), or especially those who live with me, I have a problem. It's not like I try to hide it, um, okay , maybe a little. And yes I like to do it when I'm by myself. But that's only because it's more special that way. And I've never taken to sneaking into the bathroom to do it during dinner (there WAS that one moment right after Thanksgivinig dinner, but I fought that urge and won, so stop glaring at me that way! Okay here goes....
Hi, I'm mysuestories (that REALLY is my name...I'm having it changed legally!). And I'm an internet junkie.
Okay, I guess you want the whole sordid story. It's actually a brief one, because it is a sickness that creeps up on you real fast. It started at work. The occassional funny email forwarded amongst colleagues. Next thing I know, I'm visiting weird news sites (try http://www.newsoftheweird.com/)Some of those stories are hysterical. Then they started appearing in my email inbox (http://www.truestories.com/) and then the crime people found me (http://www.truecrime.com/) with gruesome detailed crimes of the past and all their colorful cast of characters.
Next thing you know, I'm searching for ANYTHING interesting to read. The virtual library is virtually boundless. I was in heaven! Then I found the intoxicating world of blogging (http://www.blogspot.com/) . I could WRITE. About anything, anyone, any and every little or big demented or funny thought that popped into this must have been dropped as a baby psyche! And IF I WROTE IT, I was sure....THEY WOULD COME. Okay, maybe droves would be a little overly optimistic, but I do have the occasional stop by in passing internet surfer (and did I mention how wonderful you look today?)
Then I met Face Book. That, my constant follower, was a turning point in my technological love affiar with my computer. I could chat, post, download pictures, stories, links, all the while connecting with people I haven't seen in more than 30 years. And why do I want to do this? Because I can. I have to. The world will stop if they don't know that mysuestories is nombbla (None Of My Business But Listening Anyway)-to conversations that are not about me, for me, or even related to people I might have known or bumped in to maybe once 10 years ago. They NEED to know what I am doing---even if it IS quite obvious, I'm Facebooking. Isn't that an amazing word---It can be a noun, a verb, a lover....well, that's a whole other story....
Well, it's been months now. I have missed milestones (I'd tell you which ones, but I MISSED them, remember!), and I couldn't tell you how the last four new episodes of Law & Order have ended. My nose has been so stuck in my computer, that my hair has started to root in the hard drive! Life was good. Unless you were one of my kids who needed a ride some where, or maybe a hot meal, or HELP with your homework...What do I look like here, 24 hour valet, yeesh. And, I'll log off in just a moment---Oh but how many times have I heard one my kids say "right after I finish this level!!")
Yep. I was riding that virtual pony like a rodeo ringer. And I got to tell ya...It felt great!!!!Like water in the desert, ice on a hot summer's day. Nothing better.
Like all good things, the bottom started to fall out. First the internet was severely curtailed at work (like a knife to my heart, I tell ya!). But still I managed. The desk top at home was old and slow and outdated for me and my high living addiction. I started using my son's laptop...(one more minute, sweetie, and I might even feed you this week!). Then, horror, his charger wasn't working. To the electronics store in the MIDDLE OF THE NITE! I never even went out for milk past seven pm. ( Water is just as good in any recipe). One hundred and twenty dollars later, it's not the charger, but the receptacle the charger plugs in to. We find a wonderful friend to repair it, but we're waiting on a part.
Days go by, and I haven't even seen the internet explorer logo. I start to shake. By the end of the week, I've got my poor dear husband lugging the desktop up from it's purgatory in my basement. He runs the cable, finds the keyboard, hooks up the mouse. It turns on by the grace of god---slow, agonizingly slow, it boots up....almost,almost......okay -enter user id and password.....Wouldn't you know it, The only letter that won't work NO MATTER WHAT I DID was the letter "s" as in MY_UE_TORIE_---everything I am is in that godforsaken letter!!!!!! And It Just Won't Work.
I curse (quietly, to myself----must hide addiction...), I pout (Noone notices). I am almost in tears when my husband looks at me as I blankly stare at the tv screen . It wasn't even on.
"What's wrong?" asks, HE.
I start to unravel my story. I'm thinking, he's going to be relieved. A Facebook widow is as bad as a football widow. Maybe worse. Afterall, we can tune in 24/7! His wife, mother of hungry children is finally back in the fold. No more competing with facebook and a glass of wine. He sympathizes, and we go to bed. I am prepared to break the addiction however hard that may be.
The next day I return home from my internet-less job, (okay, I concede---Production is up-- ready to face another long lonely heartbroken night. My husband awaiting me at the door. On the kitchen table, with a big bow on it, sits a box. For me. So I'll feel better. A consolation prize. Maybe new shoes? A book? I rip it open...
IT'S A BRAND NEW LAPTOP!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Hate to leave in the middle of a testimonial, but the virtual world is waiting. I'M back in the saddle again!!!!!!!! HELLO, INTERNET!!!!!
Besides, I could quit any time I want to. I just don't want to.
Thank you honey! I adore the very ground you walk on.... Oh, and could you please fix the kids some dinner if its not too much trouble......I'll be there after this one last blog post.....
Hi, I'm mysuestories (that REALLY is my name...I'm having it changed legally!). And I'm an internet junkie.
Okay, I guess you want the whole sordid story. It's actually a brief one, because it is a sickness that creeps up on you real fast. It started at work. The occassional funny email forwarded amongst colleagues. Next thing I know, I'm visiting weird news sites (try http://www.newsoftheweird.com/)Some of those stories are hysterical. Then they started appearing in my email inbox (http://www.truestories.com/) and then the crime people found me (http://www.truecrime.com/) with gruesome detailed crimes of the past and all their colorful cast of characters.
Next thing you know, I'm searching for ANYTHING interesting to read. The virtual library is virtually boundless. I was in heaven! Then I found the intoxicating world of blogging (http://www.blogspot.com/) . I could WRITE. About anything, anyone, any and every little or big demented or funny thought that popped into this must have been dropped as a baby psyche! And IF I WROTE IT, I was sure....THEY WOULD COME. Okay, maybe droves would be a little overly optimistic, but I do have the occasional stop by in passing internet surfer (and did I mention how wonderful you look today?)
Then I met Face Book. That, my constant follower, was a turning point in my technological love affiar with my computer. I could chat, post, download pictures, stories, links, all the while connecting with people I haven't seen in more than 30 years. And why do I want to do this? Because I can. I have to. The world will stop if they don't know that mysuestories is nombbla (None Of My Business But Listening Anyway)-to conversations that are not about me, for me, or even related to people I might have known or bumped in to maybe once 10 years ago. They NEED to know what I am doing---even if it IS quite obvious, I'm Facebooking. Isn't that an amazing word---It can be a noun, a verb, a lover....well, that's a whole other story....
Well, it's been months now. I have missed milestones (I'd tell you which ones, but I MISSED them, remember!), and I couldn't tell you how the last four new episodes of Law & Order have ended. My nose has been so stuck in my computer, that my hair has started to root in the hard drive! Life was good. Unless you were one of my kids who needed a ride some where, or maybe a hot meal, or HELP with your homework...What do I look like here, 24 hour valet, yeesh. And, I'll log off in just a moment---Oh but how many times have I heard one my kids say "right after I finish this level!!")
Yep. I was riding that virtual pony like a rodeo ringer. And I got to tell ya...It felt great!!!!Like water in the desert, ice on a hot summer's day. Nothing better.
Like all good things, the bottom started to fall out. First the internet was severely curtailed at work (like a knife to my heart, I tell ya!). But still I managed. The desk top at home was old and slow and outdated for me and my high living addiction. I started using my son's laptop...(one more minute, sweetie, and I might even feed you this week!). Then, horror, his charger wasn't working. To the electronics store in the MIDDLE OF THE NITE! I never even went out for milk past seven pm. ( Water is just as good in any recipe). One hundred and twenty dollars later, it's not the charger, but the receptacle the charger plugs in to. We find a wonderful friend to repair it, but we're waiting on a part.
Days go by, and I haven't even seen the internet explorer logo. I start to shake. By the end of the week, I've got my poor dear husband lugging the desktop up from it's purgatory in my basement. He runs the cable, finds the keyboard, hooks up the mouse. It turns on by the grace of god---slow, agonizingly slow, it boots up....almost,almost......okay -enter user id and password.....Wouldn't you know it, The only letter that won't work NO MATTER WHAT I DID was the letter "s" as in MY_UE_TORIE_---everything I am is in that godforsaken letter!!!!!! And It Just Won't Work.
I curse (quietly, to myself----must hide addiction...), I pout (Noone notices). I am almost in tears when my husband looks at me as I blankly stare at the tv screen . It wasn't even on.
"What's wrong?" asks, HE.
I start to unravel my story. I'm thinking, he's going to be relieved. A Facebook widow is as bad as a football widow. Maybe worse. Afterall, we can tune in 24/7! His wife, mother of hungry children is finally back in the fold. No more competing with facebook and a glass of wine. He sympathizes, and we go to bed. I am prepared to break the addiction however hard that may be.
The next day I return home from my internet-less job, (okay, I concede---Production is up-- ready to face another long lonely heartbroken night. My husband awaiting me at the door. On the kitchen table, with a big bow on it, sits a box. For me. So I'll feel better. A consolation prize. Maybe new shoes? A book? I rip it open...
IT'S A BRAND NEW LAPTOP!!!!!!!!!!!!
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Hate to leave in the middle of a testimonial, but the virtual world is waiting. I'M back in the saddle again!!!!!!!! HELLO, INTERNET!!!!!
Besides, I could quit any time I want to. I just don't want to.
Thank you honey! I adore the very ground you walk on.... Oh, and could you please fix the kids some dinner if its not too much trouble......I'll be there after this one last blog post.....
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Have A Holly Jolly Christmas
" The main reason Santa is so jolly is because he knows where all the bad girls live." -- George Carlin
That may be so, but not everyone is so easy to please at this time of year. Personally, me, a Christmas Birthday baby, I am on cloud nine from the week before Thanksgiving clear through to New Year's Day. And my elation grows with each passing day. There are decorations to unpack and ornaments to visit with like an old friend who has just come by. The cards have been addressed and stamped and promptly mailed the day after Thanksgiving. Unless you didn't get yours yet, in which case, I ran out of stamps, your card will be coming soon! There are the parties and gatherings and shopping and wrapping and hustling here and there. It's all just one giant great time. For me.
Then there are the teenagers who are long with lists (it has officially become I Want Mis for some!), and short with time and assistance. These same teenagers are the ones who, two days before the holiday I have been preparing seven months for, will announce he is having trouble finding employment so he may buy gifts for the same seven people he couldn't afford gifts for last year. And he will be shocked, again, that despite his meager efforts, there is not one single employment opportunity out there paying $300. for one day's relatively light labor for a completely unskilled teen. Oh, and do you mind if we eat at two instead of five, so he can then go eat at three other friends houses whose time frames can't be adjusted? Those would be the same three friends who have come in our kitchen on market day and chewed their way through $500. worth of groceries like locust through the plains of Oregon during harvest time.
There are the tweens who refuse to sit through those seasonal classics, such as "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Miracle on 34th Street", and yet those same 12 year olds think nothing of sitting through a seven hour "Suite Life Of Zach and Cody goes to the North Pole and Stays at a 5 Star Hotel" marathon, that is peppered with product placement and commercials every 3 minutes full of all that I just gotta have this ONE More thing! This will be the same kid who will not be seen on Christmas within ten minutes of opening up six months of shopped and wrapped presents, tossing any article of socks, underwear, or clothing over his head without so much as a glance at it as he rips into another box.
There's the twenty something, who, having been asked repeatedly, will hand me his Christmas list at 8:30 p.m. Christmas Eve, saying, "I thought I gave this to you."
There's the husband who insists that the shorter darkening days are cause for malignancies, even though I have tried to keep him immersed in the halogen lighting of the mall for twelve hour stints at a time.
There is the annual trek to the local fire department to purchase a tree that I will curse daily as I try to crawl beneath it's tree skirt to fill it's stand with water while sticking my elbows and knees full of sharp pine needles. Those needles not permanently embedded in my skin will spend weeks reaching the far corners of every room of our home, and I will still be vacuuming them up come next September.
There are those antique glass ornaments tenderly passed down from my mother's Christmas collection that came from her mother's collection. And as I carefully unwrap thrity year old newspaper from around these most prescious hand me downs- I inevitably shatter at least one in the unpacking alone. Another two are destined to crash and splinter in to a thousand slivers due to an errant wagging tail or two. Didn't my forefathers ever have small children or animals? Slowly but surely, those ornaments hung anywhere lower than the top quadrant of the tree were replaced by school made decorated cardboard toilet paper inserts, glitter adorned paper plates hole punched and looped with yarn and the classical rubber Sponge Bob and Friends dollar store ornaments.
All in all, it's a festive tree. And at my nagging insistence, it WILL be a festive family, gathering around a beautifully decorated holiday table, probably complaining that once again the gravy has gotten cold while waiting for the turkey to cool enough to slice. And when THAT happens, I will look at the tree,the twinkly lights, the gift wrap haphazardly discarded alongside ten dollar/two hour/easy to make Better Homes And Garden bows, and I will glance at my by now bickering, arguing, jabbing family, and I will take that freshly sliced turkey leg and look out! "Cause I am just gonna come up SWINGIN'!!!!
All in all, it will be a lovely holiday, if not a replica if years gone by. And I wouldn't change a thing. Not one bit. Besides, I'm pretty sure it is the only place in our state where you can find a Lennox china wooden soldier hanging next to Goofy. Adds character, says I.
ps-Special Thanks To Rosa---you know where you are here!
That may be so, but not everyone is so easy to please at this time of year. Personally, me, a Christmas Birthday baby, I am on cloud nine from the week before Thanksgiving clear through to New Year's Day. And my elation grows with each passing day. There are decorations to unpack and ornaments to visit with like an old friend who has just come by. The cards have been addressed and stamped and promptly mailed the day after Thanksgiving. Unless you didn't get yours yet, in which case, I ran out of stamps, your card will be coming soon! There are the parties and gatherings and shopping and wrapping and hustling here and there. It's all just one giant great time. For me.
Then there are the teenagers who are long with lists (it has officially become I Want Mis for some!), and short with time and assistance. These same teenagers are the ones who, two days before the holiday I have been preparing seven months for, will announce he is having trouble finding employment so he may buy gifts for the same seven people he couldn't afford gifts for last year. And he will be shocked, again, that despite his meager efforts, there is not one single employment opportunity out there paying $300. for one day's relatively light labor for a completely unskilled teen. Oh, and do you mind if we eat at two instead of five, so he can then go eat at three other friends houses whose time frames can't be adjusted? Those would be the same three friends who have come in our kitchen on market day and chewed their way through $500. worth of groceries like locust through the plains of Oregon during harvest time.
There are the tweens who refuse to sit through those seasonal classics, such as "It's a Wonderful Life" and "Miracle on 34th Street", and yet those same 12 year olds think nothing of sitting through a seven hour "Suite Life Of Zach and Cody goes to the North Pole and Stays at a 5 Star Hotel" marathon, that is peppered with product placement and commercials every 3 minutes full of all that I just gotta have this ONE More thing! This will be the same kid who will not be seen on Christmas within ten minutes of opening up six months of shopped and wrapped presents, tossing any article of socks, underwear, or clothing over his head without so much as a glance at it as he rips into another box.
There's the twenty something, who, having been asked repeatedly, will hand me his Christmas list at 8:30 p.m. Christmas Eve, saying, "I thought I gave this to you."
There's the husband who insists that the shorter darkening days are cause for malignancies, even though I have tried to keep him immersed in the halogen lighting of the mall for twelve hour stints at a time.
There is the annual trek to the local fire department to purchase a tree that I will curse daily as I try to crawl beneath it's tree skirt to fill it's stand with water while sticking my elbows and knees full of sharp pine needles. Those needles not permanently embedded in my skin will spend weeks reaching the far corners of every room of our home, and I will still be vacuuming them up come next September.
There are those antique glass ornaments tenderly passed down from my mother's Christmas collection that came from her mother's collection. And as I carefully unwrap thrity year old newspaper from around these most prescious hand me downs- I inevitably shatter at least one in the unpacking alone. Another two are destined to crash and splinter in to a thousand slivers due to an errant wagging tail or two. Didn't my forefathers ever have small children or animals? Slowly but surely, those ornaments hung anywhere lower than the top quadrant of the tree were replaced by school made decorated cardboard toilet paper inserts, glitter adorned paper plates hole punched and looped with yarn and the classical rubber Sponge Bob and Friends dollar store ornaments.
All in all, it's a festive tree. And at my nagging insistence, it WILL be a festive family, gathering around a beautifully decorated holiday table, probably complaining that once again the gravy has gotten cold while waiting for the turkey to cool enough to slice. And when THAT happens, I will look at the tree,the twinkly lights, the gift wrap haphazardly discarded alongside ten dollar/two hour/easy to make Better Homes And Garden bows, and I will glance at my by now bickering, arguing, jabbing family, and I will take that freshly sliced turkey leg and look out! "Cause I am just gonna come up SWINGIN'!!!!
All in all, it will be a lovely holiday, if not a replica if years gone by. And I wouldn't change a thing. Not one bit. Besides, I'm pretty sure it is the only place in our state where you can find a Lennox china wooden soldier hanging next to Goofy. Adds character, says I.
ps-Special Thanks To Rosa---you know where you are here!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Friends in Low Places
I've got friends in low places. So says Garth Brooks (http://www.garthbrooks.com/) and it is probably true for a lot of us. But I'll tell you one thing. I have friends that would be here in a flash if I needed them. I have friends who have proudly stood as bridesmaids, even though they should have been matrons of honor. I have friends who have let me cry on their shoulder when life beat me down, and friends who have held those same shoulders (and some hair) when I've had too much to drink. I have friends who have taken me out for celebrations, and mourned along side me in times of deep sorrow. They've attended my parties and thrown more than a few for me.
They've watched my kids, baby sat my dogs while we've been away (trust me, harder than watching the kids!), and helped in endless home repairs with their varying degrees of expertise. We've painted rooms together and passed the time together during the hunting season. We've shared vegetables from our gardens and secrets from our closets. And STILL they love me. Because thats what friends are for.
And THAT'S why I am heading back out to the malls again. This may be the time of year for battling crowds, spending more than is prudent, and overindulging in food and drink. But it's also that time of year where we will gather with our most precious friends and exchange trinkets and tokens of our mutual affection. And we WILL gather , and we will overindulge in both food and drink. And if necessary, we will hold and comfort one another, and ring in a new and brighter New Year.
So, in the midst of the commercialization of the holidays, let me take this moment to say thank you to all our friends ,near, far, and especially those virtual (your e-cards are in the e-mail!).
It's been one helluva year, and we thank you for sharing it with us, good and bad. And we look forward with open hearts to a brighter, healthier, and yes, funnier new year spent with all of you!
And now,....to the malls!
They've watched my kids, baby sat my dogs while we've been away (trust me, harder than watching the kids!), and helped in endless home repairs with their varying degrees of expertise. We've painted rooms together and passed the time together during the hunting season. We've shared vegetables from our gardens and secrets from our closets. And STILL they love me. Because thats what friends are for.
And THAT'S why I am heading back out to the malls again. This may be the time of year for battling crowds, spending more than is prudent, and overindulging in food and drink. But it's also that time of year where we will gather with our most precious friends and exchange trinkets and tokens of our mutual affection. And we WILL gather , and we will overindulge in both food and drink. And if necessary, we will hold and comfort one another, and ring in a new and brighter New Year.
So, in the midst of the commercialization of the holidays, let me take this moment to say thank you to all our friends ,near, far, and especially those virtual (your e-cards are in the e-mail!).
It's been one helluva year, and we thank you for sharing it with us, good and bad. And we look forward with open hearts to a brighter, healthier, and yes, funnier new year spent with all of you!
And now,....to the malls!
Friday, December 12, 2008
Grey Skies Are gonna Clear Up
Our house is a shambles in the midst of remodeling- Remodeling that has been on going in some form or fashion for over a full year now. Christmas is fast approaching, and we haven't even put up our tree yet! We are having space issues, until even MORE walls are taken down. I haven't put very much of a dent in our Christmas shopping yet, and I'm usually done by November 1st! I'm finding myself more cranky and my Christmas spirit was leaning more towards mean spirited than holiday gleeful.
I practically swam to work today, mother nature having been kind enough to dump four inches of rain on our part of the country. Did I mention my old mitsubishi eclipse is the BEST car for hydro-planing? Only to be outdone in rain when it is on ice. That will be NEXT month's commute nightmare. On top of ALL this, all of my favorite CSI characters have left me, and I now have to decide if I want to forge new relationships or bail out before I am disappointed by new cast members that may or may not keep my favorite show afloat.
I was ready to call it a day before it even started.
Then I opened up the newspaper that my mountain man so thoughtfully packed with my breakfast (bacon and cheese and egg frittata- my cold morning favorite-thank you baby) this morning. There, on the travel page was a great big circle around ads for mini vacations for Vegas, Puerto Rico, and the Bahamas. It seems the travel industry is practically giving away resort stays with flights included in these tough economic times. And there, in his nearly illegible but distinct scrawl, my mountain man wrote the words every girl longs to read (at least this girl!) PICK ONE!
Well, the day just got a whole lot sunnier. Thank you, Wesley! Did I mention that he clearly underlined the Two Adults line three times? WOO HOO!
Let's get this holiday on the go! Soon after, I've got packing to do!!!!
Did I mention that it's the most wonderful time of the year?!
I practically swam to work today, mother nature having been kind enough to dump four inches of rain on our part of the country. Did I mention my old mitsubishi eclipse is the BEST car for hydro-planing? Only to be outdone in rain when it is on ice. That will be NEXT month's commute nightmare. On top of ALL this, all of my favorite CSI characters have left me, and I now have to decide if I want to forge new relationships or bail out before I am disappointed by new cast members that may or may not keep my favorite show afloat.
I was ready to call it a day before it even started.
Then I opened up the newspaper that my mountain man so thoughtfully packed with my breakfast (bacon and cheese and egg frittata- my cold morning favorite-thank you baby) this morning. There, on the travel page was a great big circle around ads for mini vacations for Vegas, Puerto Rico, and the Bahamas. It seems the travel industry is practically giving away resort stays with flights included in these tough economic times. And there, in his nearly illegible but distinct scrawl, my mountain man wrote the words every girl longs to read (at least this girl!) PICK ONE!
Well, the day just got a whole lot sunnier. Thank you, Wesley! Did I mention that he clearly underlined the Two Adults line three times? WOO HOO!
Let's get this holiday on the go! Soon after, I've got packing to do!!!!
Did I mention that it's the most wonderful time of the year?!
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Reaching for The Stars
Okay, so I didn't unpack lady chatterly's lover tonight after all--- (See Rambling (Wo)Man mysuestories Dec 2008). I finished reading -that's right, facebook, cheating again!- I finished reading Scott Siegler's Infected. www.scottsigler.com or www.infectednovel.com . It was a great read, and I couldn't wait to turn each page- and it WAS yesterday's inspiration through my writers block.
Anyway, I finished the story and was reading the author's acknowledgements, (yes, I read EVERY word of a book- I Am THAT nerdy!)and among the thank you's to everyone in the world for a first book published author, it was mentioned that he was the world's most succcessful podcasting author and a prominent blogger, with over 30,000 subscribers!!!!
Well, that opened my eyes to a few things.
1. Maybe out of these random literary spoutings I share (?) here, a novel /novel (get it?! ) idea will be born .
2. 30,000 subscribers is not such a far reach. Hell, my last story on www.smallaa.com was most popular for the day! (There's still time to vote for this week's comment www.smallaa.com/post2439 ) Enough pimping. If I could be story of the day, I could be story of the week or heck on the best sellers list one day....
Maybe, just maybe.
3. I wonder if anybody out there is ever reading this, besides you, oh constant reader, (you know who YOU are---but you could maybe just subscribe or follow, and then we'd all (both?) know how much closer I am to my 30,000 --(pssstt. it's not JUST the two of us out here, is it?)
Even if it is, I'LL still be here, faithful audience (of one?), and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing these little quips and stories.
Ok--Once again, I veer off track- tomorrow, DH Lawrence for sure! Out of the basement shall rise past loves. Not to worry, Mountain Man. A book is a book is a book. You, however are a story unto a class of it's own! And one I plan to read over and over and over!!!
Anyway, I finished the story and was reading the author's acknowledgements, (yes, I read EVERY word of a book- I Am THAT nerdy!)and among the thank you's to everyone in the world for a first book published author, it was mentioned that he was the world's most succcessful podcasting author and a prominent blogger, with over 30,000 subscribers!!!!
Well, that opened my eyes to a few things.
1. Maybe out of these random literary spoutings I share (?) here, a novel /novel (get it?! ) idea will be born .
2. 30,000 subscribers is not such a far reach. Hell, my last story on www.smallaa.com was most popular for the day! (There's still time to vote for this week's comment www.smallaa.com/post2439 ) Enough pimping. If I could be story of the day, I could be story of the week or heck on the best sellers list one day....
Maybe, just maybe.
3. I wonder if anybody out there is ever reading this, besides you, oh constant reader, (you know who YOU are---but you could maybe just subscribe or follow, and then we'd all (both?) know how much closer I am to my 30,000 --(pssstt. it's not JUST the two of us out here, is it?)
Even if it is, I'LL still be here, faithful audience (of one?), and I hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing these little quips and stories.
Ok--Once again, I veer off track- tomorrow, DH Lawrence for sure! Out of the basement shall rise past loves. Not to worry, Mountain Man. A book is a book is a book. You, however are a story unto a class of it's own! And one I plan to read over and over and over!!!
Rambling (Wo)Man
Rambling (Wo)Man
I'm at a bit of a stone wall today on writing this morning.
So I will under take a task I have read about but never tried.
Take the closest book to you. Not your favorite or the one you'd like to use, not the most intellectual, or coolest, but the CLOSEST book. Open it to page 56 (if it has less pages than that, put down the children's story, and find something with more words and less pictures!) Go to line 5 and post the next couple of sentences.
Closest book : Infected by Scott Sigler- a nasty little parasite is showing up in a bunch of people and making them do really graphic horrible things to the rest of humanity. Morbid? Yup. Right up my alley? I guess so, I can't wait to read more at lunch time. (Sorry, face book, but you're just not available for me when I need you. I will still see you tonight, though, right?- I mean the book is cute, but, You face book, You are gorgeous).
I digress, as usual- Okay
Page 56 Line 5:
Twenty four hours and counting, and no end in sight. She bent and stared into the microscope.
"Hmmm, what have we here?"
Okay- where do I go with THAT? I guess Lady Chatterly's Lover by DH Lawrence may have been a better choice, but I haven't seen that book since we moved to the new house last year. Ok, ok, I suppose I should finally unpack the rest of the book boxes. Perhaps after the library is built. Well, not really a library with cavernous ceilings and a brushed mahogany sliding ladder attached to the shelves, but an alcove with shelves and a really comfy chair off the living room sounds just as nice. We've been under construction for over a year now.
The new full dormer is finished, complete with 3 bedrooms and a full bath, so we don't have to trip over three kids. It's rather nice having them all upstairs and the master bedroom on the first floor. I need only go up once a week to scrub the bathroom and inspect the level of messiness in their bedrooms. The kitchen and dining room have been spruced up with fresh paint and new furniture. So that leaves the conversion of two bedrooms into the master suite and one more wall to knock down and expand the living room/not so cavernous library.
It's been a whirlwind year, combining two households (which toaster do you want to keep? I don't know. Which one do you like better? Your can opener or mine?)
We've taken our present home (mountain man's original- He has actually lived there his ENTIRE life. Never moved even once. Can you believe that? Not to worry. I let him move all our stuff twice, just so he would know what it was like). Anyway, before I tossed My honey's quiet calm life upside down, he and his son contentedly shared a one story, three bedroom home. Then along came mysuestories. With all my baggage, and kids, and their stuff, and dogs, and toasters, and can openers, and books. LOTS of books.
So we've been expanding. Upward. Outward (I had always wanted a porch with rocking chairs for those long summer nights--Thanks honey--it's beautiful, even if it may never have finished railings). The little house that could has certainly withstood it's share of change. And anyone who has ever taken a hammer, nail, saw, or spackle to anything knows that with construction comes dust and dirt. A LOT of dust and dirt. There have been times when there has been so much dust in our home that the plants complained. Have you ever had to wash off plant leaves before company came? Me neither. Never even gave it a thought before this past year.
Anyway, today the work crew (ok- he's a crew of one, but he works real hard! Thanks Richie!)--today the new master bedroom wall gets closed up, and as soon as the window company (said company being the mountain man and his trusty handy wonderful cousin-who happens to be a master craftsman) installs the new shades, we will be in our new bedroom. Yea! I'm tired of looking for my shoes/bags/sweaters in which drawer of which bedroom old or new-- and when I get cranky, I generally make everybody cranky (Sorry, family). So hopefully order will soon be restored to our little abode. And just maybe we can knock out the last wall between our tiny now bedroom (read- closet), and we can find room to put up our soon to be acquired Christmas tree. Maybe in the library. Before it's a library, of course. Probably (most likely) before there is sheet rock on those walls, let alone shelves. But you know what? I think it's time to bring those boxes of books up from the basement. I'm thinking it might be time to trade in global illness stories and find DH Lawrence in all that dust. Yeah, that's the evening plan. Right after I give those plants a bath.
Twenty four hours and counting, and no end in sight. She bent and stared into the microscope.
"Hmmm, what have we here?"
I'm guessing it was dirt on the microscope lens.
I'm at a bit of a stone wall today on writing this morning.
So I will under take a task I have read about but never tried.
Take the closest book to you. Not your favorite or the one you'd like to use, not the most intellectual, or coolest, but the CLOSEST book. Open it to page 56 (if it has less pages than that, put down the children's story, and find something with more words and less pictures!) Go to line 5 and post the next couple of sentences.
Closest book : Infected by Scott Sigler- a nasty little parasite is showing up in a bunch of people and making them do really graphic horrible things to the rest of humanity. Morbid? Yup. Right up my alley? I guess so, I can't wait to read more at lunch time. (Sorry, face book, but you're just not available for me when I need you. I will still see you tonight, though, right?- I mean the book is cute, but, You face book, You are gorgeous).
I digress, as usual- Okay
Page 56 Line 5:
Twenty four hours and counting, and no end in sight. She bent and stared into the microscope.
"Hmmm, what have we here?"
Okay- where do I go with THAT? I guess Lady Chatterly's Lover by DH Lawrence may have been a better choice, but I haven't seen that book since we moved to the new house last year. Ok, ok, I suppose I should finally unpack the rest of the book boxes. Perhaps after the library is built. Well, not really a library with cavernous ceilings and a brushed mahogany sliding ladder attached to the shelves, but an alcove with shelves and a really comfy chair off the living room sounds just as nice. We've been under construction for over a year now.
The new full dormer is finished, complete with 3 bedrooms and a full bath, so we don't have to trip over three kids. It's rather nice having them all upstairs and the master bedroom on the first floor. I need only go up once a week to scrub the bathroom and inspect the level of messiness in their bedrooms. The kitchen and dining room have been spruced up with fresh paint and new furniture. So that leaves the conversion of two bedrooms into the master suite and one more wall to knock down and expand the living room/not so cavernous library.
It's been a whirlwind year, combining two households (which toaster do you want to keep? I don't know. Which one do you like better? Your can opener or mine?)
We've taken our present home (mountain man's original- He has actually lived there his ENTIRE life. Never moved even once. Can you believe that? Not to worry. I let him move all our stuff twice, just so he would know what it was like). Anyway, before I tossed My honey's quiet calm life upside down, he and his son contentedly shared a one story, three bedroom home. Then along came mysuestories. With all my baggage, and kids, and their stuff, and dogs, and toasters, and can openers, and books. LOTS of books.
So we've been expanding. Upward. Outward (I had always wanted a porch with rocking chairs for those long summer nights--Thanks honey--it's beautiful, even if it may never have finished railings). The little house that could has certainly withstood it's share of change. And anyone who has ever taken a hammer, nail, saw, or spackle to anything knows that with construction comes dust and dirt. A LOT of dust and dirt. There have been times when there has been so much dust in our home that the plants complained. Have you ever had to wash off plant leaves before company came? Me neither. Never even gave it a thought before this past year.
Anyway, today the work crew (ok- he's a crew of one, but he works real hard! Thanks Richie!)--today the new master bedroom wall gets closed up, and as soon as the window company (said company being the mountain man and his trusty handy wonderful cousin-who happens to be a master craftsman) installs the new shades, we will be in our new bedroom. Yea! I'm tired of looking for my shoes/bags/sweaters in which drawer of which bedroom old or new-- and when I get cranky, I generally make everybody cranky (Sorry, family). So hopefully order will soon be restored to our little abode. And just maybe we can knock out the last wall between our tiny now bedroom (read- closet), and we can find room to put up our soon to be acquired Christmas tree. Maybe in the library. Before it's a library, of course. Probably (most likely) before there is sheet rock on those walls, let alone shelves. But you know what? I think it's time to bring those boxes of books up from the basement. I'm thinking it might be time to trade in global illness stories and find DH Lawrence in all that dust. Yeah, that's the evening plan. Right after I give those plants a bath.
Twenty four hours and counting, and no end in sight. She bent and stared into the microscope.
"Hmmm, what have we here?"
I'm guessing it was dirt on the microscope lens.
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