Sunday, March 31, 2013

Sunny Bunnies

Happy Easter!

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Sunny Bunnies 20091031 (c) vanessa v. kilmer
digital photograph of cloth cutout bunnies on stone tile floor

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Chop the Corn

* journal entry - comments closed *

I got nothing this morning. So this post is going to be very boring. I’m bored already. Right now I am just putting down words because I need to make my 500 word quota. It’s taken me about two hours to remind myself that I just need to start. I struggled with the whole, “I’ve got to wrote something important and entertaining.” Poodiddly.

The sky is very blue today. What are the cliches for blue skies? Robin’s egg, baby, cornflower, watercolor, sky. I can’t think of any that are not cliche. Just one is all I need before the end of my journal entry.

My dog is very hairy. When my daughter wanted a dog, the one stipulation I made was that it wouldn’t shed a lot of hair. Have I mentioned before how well my plans work out? I am surprised that The Codes has any hair left he loses so much. I wear mostly black so his hair stays with me wherever I go. The Codes is a cross between a golden retriever and a border collie. He is about half the size of a golden retriever. Whenever we walk anywhere, people always want to pet him because he is so cute and very sweet. He’s twelve years old now. He had lots of problems with his ears. We spent thousands on him. Finally, our previous vet want to cut his ears and change the shape of his ear canals. That would have been another five thousand dollars. We took him to a different vet for a second opinion and she straighten him out with medicine. He has some sort of allergies. We just had a hard time thinking we had to radically change his life at his age. He would have been deaf and there was no guarantee the problem would go away.

I have two more days that I get to waste however I want without guilt. Monday is April 1st and the beginning of my new life. I have consciously made no choices during this past month other than knowing I must write for a living. How that will manifest itself is yet to be determined. I just keep reminding myself to be as brave as I was when I was in my twenties. I wasn’t afraid of tomorrow, then.

When did I become so afraid of everything? I really can’t pinpoint a time. It was gradual. And as overused as the excuse is it comes from my middle class parents. You need a job that gives you steady income and health insurance and vacation days. If it kills your soul, so be it. It’s your duty to suffer. It’s our purpose in life to sacrifice all of who your are for others. In fact, we should use who we really are to uplift others to be themselves.

How about, “The sky is the blue of sea glass, soft and translucent, polished by waves tumbling it through surf and sand.”

OK. I am done torturing words out of myself for now. Off to do some dishes. That always encourages the words to flow.


Friday, March 29, 2013

When One Door Closes - Second Edition

So I wrote the correct ending for this story. The first one was wishful thinking and a cop-out because I was getting sick. Yeah, that's my excuse and I am sticking with it. I hope you like this ending better. I know it's too late for the Trifecta contest but I needed to fix it. It is exactly 333 words long.

* * *

She went home with tears in her eyes, unshed as yet, locked behind the shock of the moment. She had no idea how he would react. They’d never be able to pay their bills with both of them on unemployment. She just knew they’d lose the house. Who was going to hire people in their mid-fifties? How did a person go on after working for the same company for fifteen years?

She opened the front door and their gazes met.

“I got laid-off today.”

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me.”


He started laughing. She began to cry.

“It’s not funny!”

He held his stomach.

“You’re right,” he said. “You don’t know it, but we’re lucky this happened.”

She sniffed and took a breath.

“I think you’ve finally lost it. We’re going to lose everything we have.”

“Who cares? Let them have it all.” He waved his arms like a game show model. “We are free.”

“If you call living in our car freedom.”

He rose from his chair, danced over to her and grabbed her in a bear hug. She pushed on his chest.

“Let me go, you mad man.”

“Never.” He kissed her. “Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her towards the door. “I thought about going to kidnap your from work. That would have been romantic.” He tugged her onto the porch. He pointed at the bags she had missed on the way in.

“Are you leaving me?”

He hugged her more tightly.

“We always talked about just getting in the car and running away to see the country.”
He wiped the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. She looked at the bags again and saw her green ones next to his black ones. She looked at his face. Really looked at his face. The frown lines were gone from his forehead. The worrying lines between his brows were erased. His smile lit up his eyes.

Her chest hurt.

“Let’s do it,” he said.

She took a deep breath.

Pull the Plug

* comments closed of journal posts *

I have been wallowing. Since I don’t have to get up to go to work, once I got sick on Monday or Tuesday (I don’t really remember as the days are running together) I have been doing nothing except taking naps. My sinuses are clogged and that makes me cranky and I can’t think.

It must have been Monday, because I copped out on the ending of the mini story I wrote for Trifecta. I took the easy way and ended it with wishful thinking instead of a proper ending. The story with the correct ending will follow this journal post. I think it’s more realistic and more heroic.

Wednesday was the last of the doctor’s appointments for my father’s prostate procedure. It looks like we are all good. He’s running around like a spring chicken. Out getting his daily fresh rolls and lunchmeat for their lunches. I think he’s having flashbacks to living in Austria. Shopping was done every day.

I had to take my father to an appointment at 08.00 which meant I had to get up by 06.00 so I set my alarm for 05.00 and I slept like crap all night. I am truly a sick person. How is it normal for someone to have high anxiety of such rediciulously mundane circumstances. We got done in ten minutes (the nurse took out the catheter.) I went home and took a nap until 13.00 when it was time to take him back to see the urologist. I dropped him off as they surprised me by telling me I had to take my mother to Boscov’s to get Tag-Away. Boscov’s sells all of the As Seen On TV items. Mt mother and I had the “Why don’t you like shopping?” talk, AGAIN. I hate shopping. I don’t like to browse. Stores are like torture chambers to me. I am a grave disappointment to my mother.

But guess what? She told me she loved me the other day. I didn’t say it to her first and it wasn’t a High Holy Holiday or my birthday or anything. I still don’t know what to make of it. First and only time so far in my life. You like that little bit of hope there on the end of that last sentence? I am always full of hope, though it is quite guarded. Certain things just can’t be expected. I’m 55. The odds of her saying “I love you.” to me first again in either of our lifetimes is slim. That’s ok. I’m used to doing things first, or for myself, or even alone. I have decided to hear her voice telling me she loves me in my head from now on instead of all of the other stuff she usually says. I think I will be happier. I gave up my grudge against my mother years twenty years ago when I realized I wanted her in my life but I could not change her. This may seem a meager reward to you but I think it was worth it. I was re-reading this papagraph and the first few sentences remind me of the joke men tell about their birthdays and blow jobs. It’s funny because it’s true.

I struggle so hard to build and maintain a routine and it just doesn’t go well. QV went to work, last night. the project he’s on is all night work. I am way way happy he’s working but now there’s another change to my routine. I’m thinking it was a mistake to take the butterfly (and the constant change it represents) as my avatar, sigil, sign, totem - way of life.


Tuesday, March 26, 2013

The Thrill of Thunder

I feel like crap. The back of my throat is sore. I have a headache. I’ve been taking Airborne for two days so it hasn’t gotten any worse but even a little bit is too much.

The kids are on their way back from Florida. They didn’t want to come back. They plan on moving down to the Orlando area this year. The Pirate wants to be a Disney artist and The Snoogs just wants to live in Florida.

I have to go take an aspirin so I can think. Be back. I’m sucking on a Ricola, too. That always helps. And it did.

Thunder is one of my most favorite things. I love the feel of it rumbling through my chest when thunder sounds overhead. I’ve wondered where that love came from and it came to me as I was sitting here trying to think of something to write. It feels like my childhood. I spent my time until I was ten at my Oma’s apartment in Hallein, Austria. The apartment building was made out of alpine stone, walls two feet thick. It was located along side of the Salzach river and in the shadow of the Untersberg massif. When storms came through the mountains, I would sit in my little room, leaning out the window and watch the water rise in the river, white topped waves moving into whirlpools around the boulders that ancient waters had brought down from the mountains. Thunder and lightening galloped around the walls of the valley bowl and I dreamed of other people, places and times. Castles and kings and peasants played in my mind while the river rose and roared below my window.

The thunder was dragons calling to each other and the lightning was the flames they shot from the sky to toast their evening meals of long horned cattle. The caves they lived in were lined with crystal and salt. I saw the fairy tales when I looked out that window.

Hallein is more than 4,000 years old. Founded by Celts for the salt deposits in the mountains. And the only place that ever felt like home. Now, everyone that ever was is no longer so home only lives within my heart.

That little room is why I like small spaces where everything is all in one room. If I had my way, I’d live in a one room cottage. And it’s why I like it very cold at night (no heating except in the kitchen of that apartment) and lots of blankets (we slept under lots of feather blankets.) My Uroma (great-grandmother) lived in a multi-family farmhouse apartment with walls three feet thick, a shared outhouse and an actual washroom where everyone went to take baths and wash clothes. The stairs to the second floor were made of solid stone worn down by centuries of feet. Across the hall from my Uroma’s apartment was the dark attic room where my mother locked me when I annoyed her.

My Oma (grandmother) would take me to the butcher’s shop where I would get a warm Leberk√§se sandwich and we would stroll through the ancient streets and strangers always said hello.


Monday, March 25, 2013

When One Door Closes

She went home with tears in her eyes, unshed as yet, locked behind the shock of the moment. She had no idea how he would react. They’d never be able to pay their bills with both of them on unemployment. She just knew they’d lose the house. Who was going to hire people in their mid-fifties? How did a person go on after working for the same company for fifteen years?

She opened the front door and their gazes met.

“I got laid-off today.”

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me.”


He started laughing. She began to cry.

“It’s not funny!”

He held his stomach.

“You’re right,” he said. “You don’t know it, but we’re lucky this happened.”

She sniffed and took a breath.

“I think you’ve finally lost it. We’re going to lose everything we have.”

“Who cares? Let them have it all.” He waved his arms like a game show model. “We are free.”

“If you call living in our car freedom.”

He rose from his chair, danced over to her and grabbed her in a bear hug. She pushed on his chest.

“Let me go, you mad man.”

“Never.” He kissed her. “Come on.” He took her hand and pulled her towards the door. “I thought about going to kidnap your from work. That would have been romantic.” He tugged her onto the porch.

“Let’s go cash in our winning lottery ticket.”

* * *

233 words

LUCKY (adjective) 3: producing or resulting in good by chance : favorable

For Trifecta: Week Seventy

A Limerick Two-fer

Hot and Cold

A woman who frequently bowled
made sure that everyone was told
she would give her all
to a man brave and tall
but only after her ball was rolled

He Lied: A Limerick on Spring

Took a gaze out my window’s pane
expecting to see Spring rain
instead there was snow
enough to cover my big toe
if this keeps up, I’m opening a vein

Join the Limerick-Off at Mad Kane's Humor Blog

The Sky is Falling

* comments closed on journal posts *

Snow. We have a snow storm bearing down on us again. This one may even produce the amount of snow forecast. Previous storms were nothing to us. It’s 07.24. The clouds are heavy and large flakes are falling. So far the ground is just wet.

QV is sick. Has been since Saturday morning. He’s not a very good sick person. He doesn’t listen. I have to browbeat him into taking his Airborne and cold medicine to stop him coughing and help him sleep. He felt better Sunday afternoon and actually ate something. I wonder if I brought something home from the hospital. I have a sore throat but mine didn’t start until during the night last night while I was sleeping. I’m going to say he brought something home. It’s all QV’s fault.

Saturday night around 22.30, my father couldn’t pee. His bladder got distended and he was in pain. My parents did not call us. At 04.30, my father drove himself and my mother to the emergency room. They called my brother at 06.00. Oh, their heater went out during the night, too. My father got a new catheter. Doctors said there was a clot in his urethra. They all went home. My brother got them settled, had the heater man out, heater fixed. Then my father had two “accidents” so my brother feared that he had another clot. Back to the emergency room. The balloon around the catheter was only inflated one inch when it should have been inflated three inches. I’ll be calling my parents in about a half hour to see how they made out.

I drove myself crazy last week trying to think of the word “routine.” I have dysnomia, so I often have trouble thinking of the exact word I want for things. It’s why I don’t go on Jeopardy. Between that and my dyslexia, writing can be a challenge and time consuming. The dysnomia is another reason I am not a very good conversationalist. People get bored when every other word is thingamajig or doodgmahicky. Did you know that they are actual words? Spell check recognized them.

My routine got knock completely out of whack last week and I was not happy. I just got done setting it up and had plans to follow it to some successful writing last Monday. Instead, I spent the week in and out of the hospital and doctor's office. Maybe I can start over today.

At the bottom of my posts, I had the star rating system. Someone gave my post entitled “RRRrrrrrrrr!” one star which means “I hate it.” I was so obsessed over that one star all weekend. I couldn’t figure out who gave it or why they hated it. Because I couldn’t get it out of my mind, I took the star rating out. It didn’t seem very helpful and I refuse to allow myself to be tortured by someone in a hood without the balls to say they didn’t like it to my face.

I will never go to the grocery store on a Sunday again. Those people were vicious. The place was packed and they all acted like they were the only ones in the store.

I think it’s time to re-read the Harry Potter series. I do it every couple of years. It’s like visiting a friend you know so well you don’t have to speak. You look each other in the eyes and laugh at a shared joke.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Sun Shade

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all images: [digital photographs] cut paper, window, blinds, Corel Paint Shop Pro X 

Sun Shade #1 20130324 (c) vanessa v kilmer

Sun Shade #2 20130324 (c) vanessa v kilmer

Sun Shade #3 20130324 (c) vanessa v kilmer

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Back to Normal

* comments on journal posts closed *

Everything is back to normal between me and my mother. She was so nice to me on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. On Thursday, when she knew my father would be coming home and he would be ok, she was back to criticizing me. I had hopes that she would remain as pleasant and nice as she was on the first three days of the week but no such luck. It amazes me after fifty years I can still hope for change. I guess it is good that hope never dies but it sure is disappointing to be disappointed repeatedly.

My new kitchen table and chairs make me happy. We were left some furniture in the house when we bought it (we bought the house from friends.) The kitchen furniture had metal legs and the table a plastic covered top. The seats were cloth. Not good for cleaning up after a three year old. It was all too big for the space, too. We have an older house that began as a “summer house” on the Delaware River for Philadelphia residents back in the Thirties. Started out small and bits were added on. I found a wooden set with leather-like seats. The table is six inches more narrow and about ten inches shorter. And there’s a bench for the wall side of the table. It has a dark finish so it contrasts nicely with the strawberry blond color of the cabinets. The set has all of the features I wanted. Now I need to find bar stools for the counters. They are metal, too. Clumsy and loud and cold.

I promised myself I would not leave the house today because of all of the running around I did all week but the sky is clear and blue and the sun is shining. I need to write today. What to do? What to do? Maybe I’ll take short walking breaks between three hour writing sessions. Although it is very windy and cold out there. The flags on the sailboat masts in the marinas next to us are flapping like someone shaking out towels. I’ll just start writing and see what happens. I may need breaks or I might not come up for air until it’s dark out.

I think I came up with a job to look for when I get my resume reworked. We had people from our insurance companies come in to do Safety Reviews. One of the consultants told me I had the perfect “skill set” to do the job. I wish I had paid more attention as I don’t know what the job title was. I’ll figure it out. I made notes for my resume, too. I will rewrite my resume during the first week of April and then start sending it out to see what turns up. I haven’t gone on a job search in sixteen years. I suppose this is how people feel when they get divorced after a long time. I can go about three months without panicking.


Friday, March 22, 2013


Robbie ran round and round the room, 
roving and reaving, 
ripping and rampaging, 
red rain rinsing reason and rationality, 
raising rash responses, 
rebellion rampant roses of rage 
but he doesn’t remember.

This weekend, we are revisiting a prompt we've done before.  We are giving you three words and asking that you add another 33 to them to make a complete 36-word response.  You may use the words in any order you choose. 

Our three words are:


Now you give us yours.

Revenge vs Karma

* comments on journal posts closed *

I had revenge dreams last night. Actually they were more like dreams of Karma. I have thoughts of revenge all of the time but I never act on them as they usually backfire. I believe in Karma. People get what they deserve. i may never know about it because it can take a while and people are good at hiding things. It’s like those perfect families you see on the news who are on the news because they had a severe meltdown.

In my dreams last night the Man was caught out in all of his misdeeds and everyone told him he got caught because he got rid of his voice of reason.

A packeted mall and a huge maze like castle featured as settings. I love when big stone castles are in my dreams. It is so much fun running around in them hiding and escaping from the bad guys trying to get me. I had a hot, fun boy friend too which was a new twist and one I liked. I’m going to request this feature in future dreams.

The vendor I spoke of yesterday who tracked me down at home called me to let me know how much he misses working with me. He told me what a great job I always did. He offered to be a reference when I start seriously looking for work.

I talked to another vendor I worked with who offered to keep her ears open and refer me to any of her clients that may need my skills.

These folks were always very helpful and have made me feel very good.

My father came home from the hospital yesterday. I got him and my mother all settled in, gt his prescription, her bleach and left to the sounds of my mother bitching at my father. Everything is getting back to normal. This morning I have to take them to his doctor’s appointment at 09.00 to get his catheter removed (hopefully) and then maybe my life can get back on track. I’ve been making notes in between trips to the hospital and my mother complaining about my large purse and not paying attention to her but that’s not particularly satisfying. I need several hours of uninterrupted writing time or I may burst into flames.

April is a week away and I am beginning to have a nervous breakdown whenever I think about doing my resume and picking a new job. I am getting so much pressure from people to go get a “job.” Few people understood my need to take March to regroup. And it turns out I did not have as much time as I thought I would have as great chunks of time were used for family obligations to which I could not say no. No wonder artists make such poor family members. You have to be really selfish to get anything done. I have to be more selfish. I want a writing career, damn it. I do. I really, really do!


Flash 55 - Witch Love

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dance a jaunty jig
to keep you on your toes
for only the lord knows

that your task is beyond big

sing a saucy song
to tame the wild breast
for inside resides a beast

that sadly will never belong

tell a telling tale
to warn all living souls
for without loving controls

that bind a heart so frail
fragile love is bound to fail

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Thursday 13 - 1st words of tSLBoM

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The opening 13 words of The Salt Lovers' Book of Magic:

Hester broke the wax seal 
and unrolled the scroll. 
“Says she committed suicide.”

Good Deeds, Punished

* comments closed on journal posts *

I got yelled at in the grocery store yesterday. I took my mother shopping in between visiting my father in the hospital. I offered to take her list and do the shopping for her but she wanted to do it herself. Apparently, only she can pick out a proper head of cauliflower. I was allowed to track down the wax paper that was on sale. It appears my mother was right to question my abilities because I couldn’t find the damn stuff. I stopped at the customer service desk. The store employee was already waiting on someone so I waited patiently. I hate when people just walk up and think it’s ok to “just ask one question” while a person is busy. I waited my turn. But then the employee asked me if she could help me, so I asked her about the wax paper. the man she was helping first YELLED at me that she was already helping him. Not one to be outdone, I immediately YELLED back at him that I was answering the question I was asked. I did not butt in. The employee said she could do two things at once to him. He said he was in a hurry, all snotty like. The employee never paused in doing the task for him. I kept staring at him until he left. He wouldn’t look at me. Score a major victory for me!

Going into the store, I had to remove a long piece of toilet paper that was hanging out of the back of my mother’s pants.

My father insisted he was going home yesterday. He did not. The fluid in his bag was still too pink. He was so sure he was going home, he cancelled his dinner. He refused to call the kitchen and reorder it, so I did it for him. All of the information he told my mother was wrong. First I thought it might be a mix up during the translation process through my mother but when I got to the hospital he told me the same information. He insisted he had no catheter currently and that they would put it in Friday in the doctor’s office. The reverse is true. There was improvement in his fluid function yesterday just not enough. Since he’s 82, the urologist just wants to be sure the danger of blood clots has passed before releasing him. I think he’ll be able to come home today.

I lost my mother in the hospital. I dropped her off at the door so she wouldn’t have to walk so far. She decided to go up to my father’s room without me. I get to the room and she’s not there. Off I go looking for her. She had gotten in an elevator with front and back doors and gone out the back which takes you to the labs. Her sense of direction was never really that good but now she really gets turned around.

One of the vendors I used at work called my house and left a message asking me to call him. I wonder what that’s about. As pathetic as it sounds, not knowing kept me awake last night.


Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Wordless Wednesday

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Blue Skies

* comments closed on journal posts *

I found my NEO. I am surprised. I have to finish my office/studio. I am a secret 2nd story hoarder. It’s a place where I put things when I just don’t know what to do with it or I’m too lazy to put it away properly. Boxes and bags of material and craft items and books and books and books. It’s also storage for The Snoogs’ things. Her items include lots of books, too. No one QV is afraid the ceiling will come down on us. If they can do a whole really messy house in one weekend on the Hoarders, I should be able to easily do it this weekend. There are things up there I completely forgot I have. I could do about 500 projects without having to buy anything new.

I feel a tickle in my throat when I woke up this morning. If I get sick from all of my trips to the hospital I will be pissed. My father thinks he’ll be going home today. He told my brother that two different doctors told him he’d be leaving. Since he still had his catheter in at 15.00 yesterday, I’m not so sure. He has a tendency to hear what he wants to hear. He’ll be 82 next month and mostly acts like my three year old MM. He needs to come home soon though. All of these trips to the hospital are wearing my mother out. She’ll be 79 next month and is riddle with arthritis and can’t really walk much. Her mental faculties are so hot either. She claims my father has a mild case of alzheimer's but she shows more signs of it. They both still live in their own home together and usually do very well. My father still drives. They just have trouble when they get tired yet they sometimes refuse to rest.

The rain finally stopped. Today it is clear and sunny but very cold.

The Codes is itching again and we will have to take him back to the vet for his itchy pills. He did go about two or three months without itchy. And it’s been a year since he had problems with his ears. It is hard to believe that just last year his other vet was trying to guilt us into cutting his ear canals and rerouting them to “cure” him. His new vet gave him a different medicine and we haven’t had a problem since. The thousands of dollars and hours of time and angst we spent before just pisses me off. I am so glad we got a second opinion.

Game of Thrones is back on next week I can’t wait. The previews look so good. I am re-reading book one, Fire and Ice.

I am trying to figure out how I can write while doing other things.

My mother complained the other day about my reading while we were endlessly waiting at the hospital. She said it was rude. I should be talking to her. I had to remind her that I’m not much of a chatter. If she had anything to say to me I would participate in the conversation (I can read and write while being interrupted no problem.) She said since we are mother/daughter we should be able to talk without problem. I said one would think after all these years, she’d accept who I am and stop trying to change me. I’m not holding my breath.


Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Fool's Gold

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This is another image that will be part of the cover art for The Salt Lovers' Book of Magic. The Fool card will represent the character that is investigating the past lives of the main character. The card will change in each subsequent book. It will either be a Fool card from a new deck or a different Major Arcana card depending on how the character changes.

The Fool card is the beginning and the end. It represents infinite curiosity with all the world but with the warning to be aware of the cliff edge because you can fall if you spend all of your time looking up.

This is the Robin Wood tarot deck.

Topsy Turvy

* comments closed on journal posts *

My schedule is all messed up. It’s been several days since I’ve been able to follow my daily plan. Needless to say, I haven’t been able to get any writing done on my book and I am very unhappy. I need to develop a plan for when life intrudes. I am easily distracted so if I don’t have a road map to follow I can go off on long tangents.

Some examples of things I do when I don’t go with the prescribed plan:

Learn to juggle.
Read up on Viking Shield Maidens and plan out a costume to wear to Faire.
Watch Sense and Sensibility again and yet again in the same day.
Look up crow magic.
Find free books from Amazon on Physics and Philosophy.
Check out furniture stores for leather sectional sofas.
Scan through my old pictures.
Pluck the grey hairs from my chins.
Water the plants (because they are screaming from the edge of the abyss.)

You see the problem? None of these things come close to being writing. I can be distracted for days by these sorts of things. That’s why my Daily To Do List has things like:

Feed the dog.
Brush teeth.
500 words.

I have to have this kind of list to keep me on track. Otherwise I get lost in the woods of Fun and Interesting but Totally Useless Things. If I wasn’t able to focus on one thing for hours at a time I’d wonder if I had like OCD or whatever that thing is where you are easily distracted. It’s why I write 500 meaningless words before beginning on any other writing. It’s like running in place. My fingers limber up and I can purge all of those thoughts I have that are trying to force me off the road.

I’ll be breaking out my NEO. The internet on my laptop is too easily accessible. It’s small and easy to carry and has a screen that does not accommodate my obsessive need to go back and correct what I’ve written. It’s been awhile since I’ve used it but I think this is the perfect time. All of my words are ready to tumble out and I must give them the ability to escape without distractions.

I use project cards to write down the ideas I get when I am trying to avoid writing too. (I try to avoid writing because even though I want it so much the endless and formless fears I come up with scare me so much I never start.) If I don’t write the ideas down on index cards they don’t get out of the way. I’ve taken to keeping index cards and felt tip pens by my bed for when they wake me up. I like to big 5 x 8 assorted color cards so I can write big in the dark or jot down details I want to remember. For instance, there’s the Sunny Sunday photo I want to take of a sun made out of a hundred lit tea lights.

I wonder where my NEO is.


Monday, March 18, 2013

Best Laid Plans

* comments closed on journal posts *

I make plans and I am always surprised when the universe thumbs its nose at me.

My father was to have a prostate procedure this morning. I checked with my parents several times to see if they wanted me to take them but they insisted I did not need to go. According to them, it was only to take a couple of hours and he would be home. If I could just call them at 04.30 to make sure they were awake and up, that would be more than enough. No problem.

Since The Snoogs, The Pirate and The MM drove to Florida last night I didn’t sleep well. I woke up at 02.00 and drifted in and out until my alarm went off and I called my parents. They were up and about so I laid back down.

Just as I fell asleep at 06.15, they called. Their car would not start and they were fifteen minutes late for my father’s appointment. I woke up QV. We got dressed and out the door in ten minutes. Fifteen minutes later in fornt of my parent’s house, I got out of our truck and my father got in and they were gone.

Not fifteen minutes after that QV was back. My father did not want QV to go in with him. Problem was, now no one knew anything. I had QV take me back to the hospital. I went in and my father was still waiting. It’s now 07.15. My father said they weren’t taking him up for his procedure until 11.30. That didn’t sound right. When his intake nurse came I found out that he was due to go up at 07.30 and it would be several hours by the time he’d be back in recovery. So I waited. He went up on time. I left my number and QV took me back to my parents house where we waited for the hospital to call.

In the meantime, QV took out their battery (the original from when the bought the car) got a new one and put it in. Good to go on that. QV left to do other things. The surgeon called around 09.00 to say all was well but they were going to keep him overnight because they wanted to put in a catheter to make sure he wouldn’t get blood clots because they ended up taking out more tissue than they originally planned.

In between all of this I talked to The Snoogs to keep her awake. They drove straight through so she was getting sleepy towards the end of her turn driving. They left around 20.30 Sunday night and they arrived at their hotel at 15.00 this afternoon.

My mother and I went back to the hospital at 12.30. My father finally got to his room at 13.30. We talked to his nurse and got all kinds of information and by 14.45 my father was falling asleep so I took my mother home.

This has finally learned me to trust my instincts. I just should have gone in the first place like I wanted to.


The Road Home on a Winter's Night

bits of iced over rain hit the windshield, roof, bumper
they shine bright as the Northern Star up front
they burn red like Fireflies dancing out back

roads slick and treacherous beckon unwary travelers
with diamond paved paths of possibilities
with dangerous potholes and pitfalls

stars burn crisp and clear in the dark heavens
winking and blinking an indecipherable code
nudging and prodding in the right direction