The Elephant's Child

The Superior Place.

James Delingpole on being middle-aged. 

 

He's right.  I'd much rather be the age I am now than 24 or 27 or even 30. 

 

 

How I Spent Saturday Morning.

Stephen King's "On Writing" and serial cups of hot chocolate.

Checking In

Our December got busy. Yesterday I hosted 8 people at our house; with our family of three, that came to eleven people.  Two days of cooking and prep, another evening of cleaning. Today I pack up our stuff for a road trip north to visit my side of the family.  

Always thinking about the story, though. Thinking about Katie and thinking about Isa, and what their road together looks like.  Some of it I know and some of it is yet to figure out.  Bit by bit, the story progresses. 

 

 

The Noise of Everyday Life.

My friend Jane writes about writing for writing's sake.  And about getting the sludge out of your brain and getting going with thinking. 

I often feel that way in the autumn.  A feeling of wanting to clear the decks, start over on something, clean, write, sit in an empty room, enjoy silence.  This year, the clutter and noise of life has seemed especially onerous.  I've been making slow progress, though.  Remembering to open the curtains each morning. Pushing myself to keep picking away at the story (book? novella? essay?) I've been working on.  Getting my office-guest-school-room-storage-closet looking like someone took the time to arrange and decorate it is helping too.  I'm having fun making the room mine and never mind that other people might find the decor odd for a 37-year old woman. (Yes, I will post pictures here as I make progress that can be photographed.)

It's not enough, though.  I need to do more. 

Habits are so hard to change. I know it's possible, though, because I've done it before.  So, here's hoping.

Here's hoping I can carve out an hour a day to do nothing but write about Katie and Isa.  If eight years ago I managed to force my mentally-disorganized self into only doing laundry on Mondays, surely I can do that, right? 

 

Sewing For A Friend.

I'm camped out in my friend Jane's living room, my feet up on an
exercise ball, after day of sewing curtains. I was fed a delicious
supper of roasted butternut squash and chicken sausage, and in moment
I'm going to fetch a beer from Jane's well-stocked fridge. It's been
lovely day. Tomorrow promises to be similar: some more sewing, more
visiting, and possibly attemding a church service as well, which I
sorely need. Always wonderful to come to Fort Wayne.

Posting From My Kindle

After a bit of fiddling, it appears I've gotten the browser on my
Kindlle to work well enough for a brief email. I can even see myself
getting used to this thumb typing. I can thank my years of AutoCAD
for developing my one-fingered typing skills. Still figuring out
screen navigation, though.

Never Have That Problem.

"Often, codependent people are so out of touch with themselves that they have trouble even making a list of activities they enjoy."

 

I have the opposite problem, actually. Lots and lots of things that I love to do or want to do, but can't at the moment due to space, time, money, or all three.  Someday, someday...  When Sparkle Kitty leaves for college, maybe, if we're not totally broke. 

Lots of road trips to take.  Mad Musician and I have a running list of interesting old cars we'd love to own at least once before we die.  Things to make, to paint, to sew.  Work to do on the house.  Books to read... you never run out of books to read, really. 

I cannot begin to imagine a life where I had so lost myself that I could not dream up a list of activities that I love doing.  How sad and frightening. 

A Friday Night in October.

SK is at that age where she doesn't notice she's twice as big as the other kids in the play structure. Calling her off and down resulted in anger and tears.  Dear older lady told us to keep fighting the good fight as she headed out of playgatory and to the freedom of the main dining room. "You're doing a good job. I know it's hard!" 

We stopped to pick up beer at Walmart on our way home.  MM stayed in the car with Ms. McCrabbypants; I braved the freak show which is the first Friday of the month at a Walmart that serves a 15-mile radius of rural farms and microscopic towns. 

I bought a package of cocktail swords in the liquor aisle.  SK's face light up Christmas-morning style when I held them up to the window of the car when I got back.  All was forgiven, by me and by her.

Tomorrow, outside in the warm weather, despite the hordes of gnats, little flies, dust and soybean hairs.  I'll perhaps sweep off the porch again; tiny beetle carcasses crunch under your feet when you walk out there.  The harvest is in full tilt.  On the way home tonight we saw two combines out, working by floodlights, looking very much like large alien creatures chewing up the land.  

The dust is awful. Despite the warm weather we've not had our windows at home open much simply because everything gets completely covered in grit if there's the slightest breeze.  I'm actually looking forward to cooler weather. 

Mad Musician is reading Kipling's The Jungle Books to Sparkle Kitty.  I'm not sure who is enjoying it more; Kipling is such a delight to read.  I'm so thankful he spends significant time reading out loud to her each night, even if it means she gets to bed later than I really want her too.

I'm writing up this post in between playing Angry Birds and "talking" on Facebook. Hope to sit on the porch and enjoy a beer with Mad Musician in a few minutes.  Finally feeling normal this evening after several days of feeling not-myself, stressed, generally tense, etc, etc. Reinstated my Vitamin D3 regime; that is helping, too.  Planning on garden work out in the sun tomorrow in between keeping Mad Musician company in the garage as he works on the very large chunk of repair work the Saab is undergoing.   I need to write up a post about all that work. It's a huge project. 

Labor Day Weekend.

Going north for the holiday weekend.  We'll be dropping off my brother and sister-in-law's wedding present on our way to the city where Mad Musician's parents, sister, and brother all live.   Word is there's a jazz festival up there this weekend, so we'll be going to that, I think.

Later in September Mad Musician and I are going to Road America.  We'd hoped to do a week-long road trip to celebrate our upcoming 15th wedding anniversary, but for various reasons, we've had to cancel that and are instead doing just a weekend thing.  Any event at Road America is a nice day out. It's a pretty track, nestled in the hills, with lots of green grass and light-filtering trees.  Always lots of interesting cars to see, both on the track and in the parking areas.  You can sit and watch a particular corner or you can walk around and people-watch or a little of both.  The food at the food stands is delicious, too. Looking forward to our day at the track very much.

 

 

 

Everest

When I read about Mount Everest and when I see pictures of it, I don't think, "So beautiful.  I'd love to climb that mountain and be able to say that I've climbed it. Or maybe even just climb as far as Base Camp."

 

Instead, my immediate thought is always, "OH MY FREAKING WORD, THAT LOOKS ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING.  THAT MOUNTAIN EATS BABIES.  RAW. AND SLOWLY. WHY ON EARTH WOULD I WANT TO GO ANYWHERE NEAR THAT MONSTER?"

And yet I keep reading accounts of attempts to climb it.  I'm fascinated by what may or may not happened when Mallory died. I'm interested in stories of the controversy that arises when everything goes wrong.  I'm even sickly curious about what the body does to itself above 26,000 feet. 

 

Photo via Flickr user xiquinhosilva