The trophy is mine again. And I will update tomorrow.
I have some very good reasons for my extended absence.
True to my NYE resolution, I’ve been engaging in more of the things that made last year pleasurable.
I’ve faithfully completed 1 knitting project per week (I know, we’re only in the 4th week). I’ve read 7 of the books on my “I really want to read that one day” list. I’ve spent more time with friends I’ve not seen in a while, and I’ve been exercising regularly. It’s been relatively easy and if I can do all of that just 11 more times, I’ll have completed a full year.
But my biggest news; my novel is now – dare I say it? – finished! I’m self editing at the moment, and then when it’s just exactly perfect, I will sit on it for a while and decide what I really want to do with it. It is my baby and I want to protect it like my human children. A life lived locked in a fire-safe vault seems preferable to being sent out into the world to be abused and rejected. Thankfully, there is no Novel Protection Service that I need to worry about knocking on my door.
But who knows? Maybe when I’m finished polishing she will beg to be set free. We’ll see.
Also in breaking news – Our home is still for sale. I began the process kind of ambivalent to a move. It would be nice, but I’m happy here, too. And to a large extent, I still feel that way. Except that I have cut my emotional roots from this house and will not feel a sense of loss when we leave. I am ready for an adventure….Now if only I had a buyer….
And knowing is half the battle, right?
Months ago I started my first novel. Halfway into it, I stalled. Or it stalled. Or both. I’m not totally sure. I left one of the pivotal characters mid-stroke with his ass in the air. Months later, I come back to find him still there. Amazing stamina, that one.
But since “Finishing My Novel” was swimming around in there somewhere with my vague new years resolution, I’ve been mulling over what’s wrong with it. It was so easy in the beginning, but then it seemed to have just stopped writing itself.
A lot has changed since I first began this writing adventure. I’ve learned more about why I can write some things and why I cannot or will not write others. That changes the direction of one sub-plot and replaces another one all together. I’ve actually met one of my fictional characters now, too. That changes a little bit. And also, I’ve decided that all names must change. They’re too freakin’ cumbersome.
In short, it’s a re-write. But it should be an easy one, because I’ve got a great piece to use as a shell and fill in the pieces that need filled in.
I’m excited and invigorated. I’m creating again. I get to back up and take another running go at this thing and do it right. I suspect a certain someone who must be in muscle failure right about now will also be glad to hear it.
And completely off topic, but before I forget – you absolutely have to know that Atomic Fire Balls, yes, those little individually wrapped hell pellets we used to buy for 25cents at the skating rink in 1982 now come in – are you ready for this? Chewy! Ferrara Pan produces them. Look for them wherever fine candies and implements of oral torture are sold!
In some cases, the answer is an unequivocal “YES!”
But that’s not the only lesson 2008 has taught (or in some cases, re-taught) me.
A few other areas of study:
- Don’t get into a pissing contest with the mentally ill.
- Always trust your gut.
- Trust, but verify.
I am happy to report that I have proof I have matured at some point in the last 18 years. I recently ran across a similar list dated 1990 which includes such pearls as, Never attempt to stick your head out of the car window without first rolling it down. What a crying shame that I do not remember the event that lead up to my penning this.
It turns out I’ve also come to know myself better, not just in the last 18 years, but in the last 12 months. I’m beginning to suspect this is a lifelong process, and not an academy that will graduate me someday.
I’ve learned that I truly misplaced something with my unexpected retirement in 2004. Not lost, just misplaced. I have a need to be good at something again. It need not (and better not) be the same thing. But it must be something. When my youngest offspring starts kindergarten in the fall, I will begin a course of study at a yet-to-be-determined University. This is resolution number 1. Except it’s more than a resolution. It is so.
And I’ll leave you with my only other, intentionally vague resolution for 2009: I will do more of the good things I did in 2008 and less of the bad.
Happy New Year, folks.
This morning my three little ducklings and I walked down the halls of Duke Medical Center to the genetics clinic.
This walk was long in the making.
My cardiologist has never been particularly interested in whether my oldest daughter and I share a genetic mutation that caused our cardiomyopathies; or whether my son also has this mutation and is forming his own cardiomyopathy or if he just has a larger than normal heart.
The information is superfluous because it changes neither our prognosis nor our treatment.
For the same reason our pediatric cardiologist, though immensley curious, was unable to justify the expense – until now.
It will be a long six weeks waiting for results that ultimately will change very little. My oldest daughter will still be advised not to have any children of her own unless her heart function returns to normal between now and her child bearing years. My son will still be followed to make sure no dysfunction develops to match his large heart. Everything will remain status quo with me, and my youngest daughter may or may not have to continue bi-annual cardiac checkups.
Still, I feel like we’ve taken an important step. We’re six weeks closer to a piece of the puzzle that we didn’t have before.
Over the last year and a half to two years much ado was made about how articulate one of our presidential candidates was. At times it seemed the media and other people we pay to do our thinking for us were distracted from what he was saying by how he was saying it. And I must admit, the guy has an incredible gift for inserting many big words into small ideas.
But who am I to judge? The man was elected by majority vote. And not a narrow majority, either. Clearly, articulacy matters. Don’t worry, I’m not breaking my promise and waxing political again. I’m simply making the point that the following writing assignment, completed by my son last month, while adorable, probably would lose an election for him:
If I were president I would let them suee my spoatings. And let them soot my patings and let them play.
Or maybe I’m wrong. We did elect Bush twice.
We had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with neighbors and friends and family on Thursday, but without the boat load of left overs, it just didn’t feel like a holiday. So tonight I am re-cooking Thanksgiving. My oldest daughter is having some friends over to join us.
This ensures our Tryptophan coma will last right through the next week; delivering us, rested to my son’s track-out, which begins on 12/5. How wonderfully challenging it will be to have my two Santa believers home virtually the whole month of December!
So while the rest of you are coming out of your holiday bliss and preparing to return to the real world tomorrow, I’m reviving ours.
Peace out, y’all.
‘Twas the night before Thanksgivin’
And down in the kitchen
Grandma was baking
And drinking (just a smidgeon).
The turkey was cleaned
And buttered and wrapped
The keg in the garage
Had already been tapped.
Onions and celery were chopped
With such care.
Excitement over the stuffing
Palpable in the air.
All through the house
Aromas did mingle.
Pun’kin and apples
That make your spine tingle.
When from deep in the kitchen
I heard such a clatter
I stirred in my recliner
Wonderin’ whats the matter?
Pots and pans bangin’
And hittin’ the floor -
That’s when uncle Jim found grandma
Sprawled on the floor.
Paramedics were called
And she finally came to
Babbling something ’bout pilgrims
And reeking of Booze.
We brewed grandma coffe,
Then put her to bed.
Maybe next year for Thanksgiving
We’ll make reservations instead.
Recent Comments