Caramel Popcorn

So I was thinking on my drive home today.  The alone time in the car often causes this.  And I started to think about caramel popcorn, well not exactly caramel popcorn.  But how caramel popcorn is or could be used to explain at least part of my life.

Caramel popcorn would taste very good.  It would be nice to have some caramel popcorn.  Now, I do have popcorn.  I even have all of the ingredients to make the caramel.  Thinking about caramel popcorn makes me want to have it even more.

But what happens if I decide to go ahead and make it?  I might burn the popcorn while popping it.  Then it would be ruined.  I don't want to eat burnt popcorn.  I would have to throw it away, and that would be a waste of resources and time.

Though maybe I do pop the corn and it turns out fine.  At this point I might scorch the caramel.  I could not then make caramel popcorn.  I would have wasted those ingredients.  Yes, I could still eat the popcorn.  That might be fine.  It might not be bad, but it would not have been what I truly wanted.

Lets say that I get the corn popped and the caramel made.  I finish the caramel popcorn and it is perfect.  I eat it only to find out that it wasn't really what I wanted.  Or maybe I eat too much and get a sick.  This would definitely not have been the outcome I was hoping for.  

So now that I have thought about this caramel popcorn for a very long time I have to decide if it is better to leave those ingredients in the cupboard, safe and unspoiled.  Or if I take a chance on one of the many possible outcomes.  Is it worth the effort?  Do I stand still and think about it or do I take a risk?

Caramel Popcorn

1 cup butter

2 cups brown sugar

1/2 cup corn syrup

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

5 quarts popped popcorn

Directions

Preheat oven to 250 degrees F (95 degrees C). Place popcorn in a very large bowl.

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, melt butter. Stir in brown sugar, corn syrup and salt. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Boil without stirring 4 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in soda and vanilla. Pour in a thin stream over popcorn, stirring to coat.

Place in two large shallow baking dishes and bake in preheated oven, stirring every 15 minutes, for 1 hour. Remove from oven and let cool completely before breaking into pieces.

Lost Socks

I can't believe that I haven't written here since September.  Yes, (for those who are paying attention to these things) I know I added a post here yesterday.  But in the time line of my life, this post actually happened first.  Hehe..  It happened on December 9th, 2013 or at least the story happened on the 9th.  I sat down and wrote both of these posts on the same day, and decided to save this one until today.

A very interesting thing happened to me.  It all started just about a year ago...

December 2012:  I received a Christmas present from my nephew, Eli.  Eli was at the time 3 years old.  I liked to play with him, teasing him about his socks.  I would ask him if I could have or wear his socks.  He had some very fun socks.  Of course he would always tell me they were his, or they wouldn't fit me.  Now Eli had drawn my name for Christmas, so of course when it came time to buy me something he thought of socks.  He picked out some colorful fun socks in hopes that I would stop trying to steal his, I'm sure.  Of course when I opened up this gift I smiled at our little joke.  The next day I wore a pair of my new socks.  I made sure to show Eli that I was wearing the socks that he had given me.

Then into the laundry basket went my socks as all dirty socks do.  I, sometime that week, did the wash.  But was surprised when only one of the socks came out of the dryer.  I was sure that I must have missed one of them.  Maybe it had fallen from the basket.  Maybe it was hidden under my bed or dresser.  I went and checked.  But no sock.  

Now this was a mystery.  Unlike my children who can lose a sock right off of their foot, I normally have no problem keeping my clothes in my hamper.  After searching my bedroom and the laundry room I still was not able to find this sock.  So I placed the sad, lonely sock on my cedar chest, knowing that the other must have just gotten inside of my shirts or something.  It would show up.

Well, after a couple of weeks it didn't.  Which I found strange.  But what could I do about it?

Of course that is an easy answer, I could write a story about it.  Thus came the idea for my short story, "Lost Socks."  I talked to my kids about what happens to socks when they go missing.  They laughed and thought it was a great idea.  So I wrote it.  When it was finished, I read the story to my children.  They loved it.

I played with the story for a while longer, then I sent it off to a writing contest for a local Con.  All the while my one lonely sock was still setting there on my cedar chest.  A month or so later, I heard back from the writing contest, my story had won!  This was an amazing day for me.  A first in my life.

When the convention came around I went with my kids.  They made me stand in front of everyone at opening ceremonies and gave me my prize.  We took my "prize," a gift card to Barnes and Noble, and picked out something to take home with us.  

Now months and months have passed since I lost my sock and since the convention.  I had not thought much about the sock.  It was just gone.  I still didn't know how it had disappeared.  But I didn't really worry about it.

In the summer, I decided to send "Lost Socks" to my critique group.  This is also a first for me, and very terrifying.  But it was a good thing for me to do.  I got back a lot of helpful suggestions.  These suggestions I used to edit my story and hopefully make it better.  Then last month, on my Grandpa's birthday, I submitted "Lost Socks."  There is reason that this is significant to me.  This date 11/22, Grandpa's birthday (or at least the date that we celebrated his birthday) means something to me.  Grandpa is a big reason that I am a writer.  My Grandpa will never read one of my stories, he died 13 years ago.  Submitting "Lost Socks" on his birthday felt like I was giving him a birthday present.

But this is not where this story ends.  December 9th, I did a load of my laundry.  This basket was my clothes, not my children's.  There was nothing unusual about it.  When it was finished I carried the basket to my room where I began to fold the clothes.  I put things away in my drawers.  And when I looked into the basket, the very last item there was my sock!  The sock that had now been missing for nearly a year.  The sock that I had looked everywhere for.  The sock that was the inspiration for my story.

Of course I didn't believe that it was THE SOCK.  Somehow the one from my cedar chest must have gotten into the laundry.  I went to check, but it was still there.  Now holding both of these socks in my hand, I figured that someone must have found the second sock.  Maybe it had been behind or under the dryer.  It couldn't have just appeared in my laundry basket.  So I went to ask.  But no, no one had seen it; no one had touched it.  Somehow after almost a year the missing sock had found its way back into my basket, into my life.

I can't explain it.  Had it been stuck in the washing machine or the dryer for a year?  Had it just now fallen out, and in a load of MY CLOTHES, not someone else's?  Or had the sock gremlin decided to give me back my sock?  No matter what it was, this has been a very interesting experience.  I wondered last night if maybe it meant I was supposed to write another story.  I will have to give that a little more thought.  But no matter what happened, it was a very good thing for me that I lost this one sock last December.  I will have to let you know (as soon as I know myself) what it means to me that the missing sock has been found.

Pieces of Me

Yesterday I spent some time looking at my bookshelves.  I own 1,000's of books.  There are bookshelves in every room of my house.  I cannot say that I have read every book on every shelf, and yet when I go to the bookstore I still want to buy more books.

While I was looking at my shelves I was wondering if maybe I should pass on some of these treasures.  Some day I may want to move and when you consider that I have more books than anything else, surely I don't NEED all of these books.

So many of the books on my shelves have a story.  They mean something.  There is a reason that I own that particular book.  They are pieces of me.



I have hand-me-down books that were passed to me when I was a toddler.  The Big and Growly Bear
I have books that I got in elementary school.  The Hungry Caterpillar
My first copy of the Lord of the Rings that I bought with my own money in 5th or 6th grade.
Even my college Calculus book sits on my shelf.
There are books I bought for my classroom or books I bought for my children.
These books have been boxed up and carried with me throughout my life.  I look at them and remember them, as if they are old friends.

There are even some books on my shelf that are painful reminders of things lost or broken.  Gifts from friends who have died, or pieces of broken dreams.  And yet I hold on to these books as well.

These books tell the story of my life.  They are who I was at that time in my life.  They are pieces of me.

This fall I have been working hard at finding what I really want, who I am, and where I want to be.  So as I looked at the books on my many shelves I wondered if it was time to let some of these things go, maybe make room for some new books, new pieces of me.

I pulled several books off of the shelf and made a pile on the floor.  I flipped through the pages and held them in my hands.  There are some books I know I do not need.  They were bought for a purpose.  But for one reason or another I do not need them anymore.  There are others that I held; I knew I would likely not need them, but yet couldn't put them in the pile to give away.  They had to stay in my "maybe" pile.

Several years ago, we 'down-sized' our library.  The room in our house that we used as a library was needed for other purposes.  We donated 1,000's of books to the library that was opening in our small town.  It was interesting to note that after they were gone, I looked for several of those books upon occasion, only to remember that I had given it away.  Some of them I even went back and purchased again.

So now as I consider doing this again I question if it is something I should do.  Will I miss those books?  Will I find I need the book only a month or two after taking it off of my shelf?  I think I will go slowly here.  I will take the books I know I do not need or want, just a small box or two at a time and remove them from my house.  But I will leave any that I question until I am sure about them.

Part of me is excited about the chance to put new books on my shelf.  It is time to find new pieces of me.  As I seem to be speaking only of real life books, it is truly not just books that I am talking about.  But I have come to see that the books are really just a physical symbol for what I have been doing emotionally.  There are parts of my life or myself that I can leave behind.  These things are not a part of me any longer.  I should not hold on to them.

When I imagine my dream house, I know that it is a place that will be filled with books.  I will carry these pieces of my life with me.  Anyone who looks at my bookshelves will be able to see photos of who I am and where I have been.  Some of these maybe be torn or faded.  Some maybe be held together with tape.  But all of them are pieces of me, things I have learned or done as I have grown into the person I am now.


So what books do you have on your bookshelf?

Thoughts on being an introvert...

A few days ago I wrote about some of my thoughts on being an introvert and a single mom of middle and high school aged kids.  It has been something I have been thinking about for a while now.  But I thought that I had finished that line of thought.  Then I noticed another article that had been posted on facebook about introverts.  This article also had a link to a video.  The woman speaking was the author of a book on introverts.  Interestingly enough I had purchased her book and read it earlier this year.

After listening to her speak I knew I had more on this topic that I wanted to write about.

Coming home from WorldCon a few weeks ago it seemed that a lot of my thoughts still have been centered there.  I made a couple of observations while I was in TX at the convention.  One of these I shared with my friend, Jay Werkheiser.  He seemed to think it was pretty good and true as well.  This is what I observed at WorldCon...

I decided that I could easily pick out the people who were introverts just by the way they walked through the lobbies of our hotel and the halls of the convention center.  The introverts were the ones who were looking at the mass of people in front of them.  They were the ones trying to judge which way all of the people were going to walk.  They wanted to see the signs - right or left.  They needed to know this so that they would be able to move out of the way as they passed by the people going in the opposite direction.

Now of course, I knew this to be a fact, because that is exactly what I was doing.  I was watching so that I could stay out of the way.  And guess what, there were tons of others doing the same thing!

It was sort of a dance.  Each of us trying to stay out of the other's way.  Now this should surprise no one, that at a GeekCon, any GeekCon, that the place would be filled with introverts.

Oh, here is a related observation, when walking with extroverted people, or at least those who were much less introverted than myself, it was more of a "Parting of the waters" kind of thing.  These extroverts would walk as if they were on a mission.  They would walk straight through the crowd.  I, and other introverts,  would follow in the wake that they created.

Back to the article I read and the author speaking about her book, well not even her book.  She was speaking about being an introvert in a world that is more based on being an extrovert.  I had loved her book.  I took notes as I read it.  I wrote about it and my thoughts in my journal.  And as I watched the video well, at a couple of points, I even had tears in my eyes.  It is sort of a strange thing, but knowing that there is someone, somewhere in the world that truly understands you is a good feeling.  It is nice to know that it is good to be like me.  It is nice to know that there are others in the world that find many social interaction (including school and workplaces) tiring and even stressful.

I love that my new world of writer friends has shown me this.  I think that is actually one of the reason I love WorldCon.  It is packing 1000's of introverts with shared interests (SF & F) in a hotel/convention center and just watching what happens.

Guess what, we don't sit alone in our hotel rooms reading.  Hehe..  well there actually is a bit of that going on.  But what really happens is that we are free.  We are safe to be who we are.  We know that we are okay with our friends or fellow con-attendees sitting in the lobby or at a table reading.  It is fine to talk to them.  But it is also okay just to sit next to them and read your own book.

She talked about taking books in her suitcase.  She said part of the reason she loved her grandfather's place was the pile of books on every surface.  It was as if she was talking to me.  She also said that she had always wanted to be a writer.

I don't know how much of this is due to my being an introvert or if there are other reasons for it, but right now I feel my life is at a turning point.  I need to decide somethings, I need to do something, I need to figure out what I want and work to make it happen.

It has been a really slow process for me.  I joke that I am still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.  But more and more I think like Susan Cain, I want to be a writer.  I know that this isn't likely to be my main job.  So I guess I still really need to figure this out.  Des told me that I should go back to school and finish my degree in Computer Science.  I looked at this a little bit.  But I am not sure this is really what I want.  I also am unsure if teaching is really my thing.  Though being back here with these kids makes me think I would not hate a real full time teaching position.  I guess I will just have to give it a little thought.

When looking at classes I also considered school, but more related to writing.  This is something more like children's lit, or actual writing or english.  I believe the only way I would do something like this would be if it was related to teaching somehow.  Though the AboutSF stuff and the classes listed there were very interesting and exciting to me.  I do believe that I am going to sign up for that one free class they had listed.

So this is straying a bit from the introverted topic.  But I guess that is how it is with my thoughts at this time.  Oh, I guess just for myself, I am going to write down just exactly what I want to do.  (None of you read this bit.  hehe..)
1.  Be a mom.
2.  Be a writer or even an author.
3. Work with kids sort of like I did at Futurekids.  It would be amazing to do these SF workshops and classes as well as NaNo like writing classes and units.  Of course there could even be computer or math things, or science as well.
So how can I do this and get paid?  But not necessarily be a classroom teacher?  That is the question.  Could it be a homeschool related thing?  Or a summer program?  Maybe a learning center?  I am just not sure right now.  But I think it is something I want to play around with.

Bedtime stories

This is sort of an additional thought from my post earlier today.  One of my favorite quiet things to do with my children is read to or with them.  I have been reading to them since they were babies.  It may seem funny to read aloud to a 15 year old. a 13 year old. and a 10 year old.  But they never complain, and really seem to enjoy this as much as I do.  But sadly since school has started this fall we haven't been able to read together.  We have so many books that we are waiting to read.  I guess maybe I will have to just make sure to spend at least 10 or 15 minutes at bedtime to read to my not-so-much-babies a bedtime story.

One of the best things I learned in college is that someone is never too old to enjoy being read to.  One of my college professors would read aloud to the class for a few minutes every day.  All of us 18-22 year olds would beg for "one more chapter."  And this was not because we were trying to get out of doing work.  We really did just want to hear the next bit of the story.  I guess this is one thing that I really took to heart.  It is one thing I am happy that I learned in college.  Hehe..  Reading aloud is wonderful at any age.  It is a shared experience that I plan on enjoying with my kids as long as I can.

On a somewhat related note, the other day we got our NaNoWriMo pack.  We not only enjoy reading together.  Writing together is another of our favorite activities.  Well, I guess Zeb would rather not be included in this activity.  He is happy to talk about the things that I am writing, and maybe even listen to what his sisters are writing.  But he would rather not be forced to write himself.  When I was "THE TEACHER" he just got to be a part of this activity and NaNoWriMo.  But I guess I will have to give him a pass this year.  He will just have to do the writing that his English teacher wants him to do.  But the girls and I are excited to be getting near NaNo-time again.

I wonder if I should try to figure out what I want to write this year.  Or should I just come to November 1st with an empty notebook.  I guess I have a little bit of time to think about it yet.

Days when the world seems to be spinning out of control

Today I have been thinking a bit about being an introvert and a parent of middle school and high school aged children.  This week since getting home from WorldCon, I have been really tired.  Hehe.. Yes, I know some of it was the 3am bedtimes.  Some of it was just that so much was going on that I need a little bit of time to relax.  There is also a part of it that comes from stepping through my door and getting back to my real life.  This life is filled with schedules, meetings, moving children from one place to another, and yes homework.  Oh, and that doesn't even consider anything related to just myself, work, writing, or things I wish to do.

A couple of weeks ago, someone posted an article on Facebook.  The title of the article was "23 Signs That You're Secretly An Introvert."  Now, I can't say that I am or ever thought of my self as 'secretly' an introvert.  It has always been clear to me that this is who I am.  But of course I opened the article and read through it.  Twenty of the twenty-three things on this list ARE me!  Two of the remaining three, I would have to say are maybes..or sometimes me.

Now getting back to me being tired after WorldCon, well, there have been lots of things for me to do since I got home.  The funny thing is that my kids are not actually "IN" a lot of things.  But being a single mom and having three kids means that there is rarely a day that I don't have to go or do something.  A lot of this comes from my oldest starting high school this fall.  This means two schools, and me trying to get the three kids to two schools and myself to work in the morning all before 8:00am.

On top of this it seems that days that I have meetings or volleyball games at one school are the same days or times that I am supposed to be doing something at the other school.  Last week, I just figured it was my brain after WorldCon that was having a hard time keeping everything straighten out.  I thought that once I got home and settled I would be fine again.

But this morning, I am not sure if that is really all that it was about.  I think it has more to do with being an introverted mom.

When my oldest was born, my husband and I decided that I wouldn't work.  That we wanted me to be the one who was taking care of our kids.  This was perfect.  I am so happy that I was able to spend this time with my children.  I could stay at home.  I could go places when I wanted to.  But mostly it was just me in a place I wanted to be with the people I wanted to be with.  Now you should also know that after a while, I would go to the grocery store and believe that the conversation I had with the cashier the best talk I had in weeks.  There is something to be said about adult conversation when you are only around toddlers.

As my kids got older, they were in more things, including school.  This brought about all sorts of situations for me to be in contact with others.  Some of these people I considered friends and others strangers.  But mostly, I still had my time at home to recharge.  We never were the parents that had our kids in activities constantly.  I don't think that is something I could have done.  It would have just been much to stressful to me.  But we picked and chose what they wanted to do.  And made sure that they were able to be a part of these activities.

Then several years ago, we decided it would be better to homeschool our children.  So we took them out of school and I became their fulltime teacher.  During this time, I was very conscious of making sure that they had enough outside activities.  We went to museums and zoos.  We were in sports and swimming lessons.  They were in boy or girl scouts.  Being homeschooled I wanted them to have friends and things to do that they might miss without the school link.  Though here again, we picked what they were doing and the other thing is there were two parents.  Sometimes I would take them or sometimes their dad would.  So there were still plenty of opportunities for me to be in the quiet of my home, or somewhere "alone" with my family.

Now last year I needed to put my kids back into the school system.  They had been a part of the school here in Worms for certain activities and sports.  I was the basketball mom, at a tournament every weekend there for a couple of months a year.  But still for the most part our schoolday had been quiet and at home.  I could tell even before putting them back into school that things were getting more busy...more hectic.  It seems that is what happens as your children grow older.

There are days that I feel like a 'driver.'  That it is my job to move people from place to place.  I am a secretary.  What meeting do I need to go to?  And who needs to be here and what things to we need to have done.  It feels now that the quiet life that I crave is a thing of the past.  Part of me feels like I need to grab ahold of this thing and make the world stop spinning.  Though there is also a part of me that believes I just need to hang on tight and ride for a couple of years.

Like I said, we really aren't in many things.  I don't feel like I should be telling my kids, "No, we can't do that."  I just need to find little pieces of time throughout the day were I can crawl into a corner with a book and read or sit under a table and write.  Places that I can still be involved in what is going on.  But that I can hide and try to recharge for the next extroverted activity that I find myself in.  Hehe... Working in the concession stand, going to meetings, talking on the phone... these things are WORK to me.  I can do them.  I don't even hate doing them.  But they are still work.  Even my current job, substitute teaching is work.  I love being with the kids.  But the not knowing where I am going to be every morning, that is much more work then waking up and knowing the kids and the teachers that I will be working with.

So maybe coming back from WorldCon and being tired this week has several sources.  One, I am just tired from all that went on during that week.  That was such a busy and exciting time.  So many things and people.  I loved it.  But even there, I went up to my hotel room for quiet times, or out to eat with one or two friends at a time.  Places to sit in the calm for just a little bit of time were needed even there in that happy world.  Two, I need to carve out quiet times for me to get through these busy years of my life and the activities of a single mom with kids in 2 different schools.  I guess I need to say to myself, that it is okay that I hide once in a while.  It is okay if I don't answer that phone call right now.  I can call them back later when I am ready.  I will let you in on a secret, this is one reason I like texts and e-mails.  They give me even just a moment or two to think about what I want to say or when I am ready to respond.  Yes, I do "14. Screen my calls.  Even from my friends."  Most of the time I will just answer.  But sometimes,  I will call you back in 10 minutes or an hour.

I am 'secretly' an introvert.  And I believe it is harder to be an introvert as my children get older and more involved in things outside of our home.  This doesn't mean I don't want to talk to you.  It just means, I would rather sit down and talk to you away from the craziness and center of activities.  So for all of you other introverts out there, grab a book or your phone and join me in the quiet corner of the gym or auditorium.  :)

WorldCon 2013

I have been meaning to sit down and write about this past week for a few days now.  But I have actually found it to be a little difficult to do.  Yes, it could just be the lack of sleep over the days at WorldCon.  But I believe there is a little bit more to it than just my brain is too sleep deprived to function.

This was my second WorldCon.  It has been interesting for me to think back to last year and everything that I saw or did.  In so many ways, this WorldCon was very different.  I guess maybe some of the reason for that is I had no real idea of what to expect last year.  I had never imagined being in the same room as the authors of the books that I have on my bookshelves...let alone sitting down at the bar with them and talking to them.  You know they are actually people.

But this year, I was looking out for people.  By this I mean, I was expecting to see certain people.  We went to TX with plans in place to share meals with or spend time with certain friends.  And yes, that is the difference.  FRIENDS!  I am actually friends with real live authors.  I was expecting to sit there and talk to these people.

The first days back home were so surreal.  Though as I write about it now, I am not sure which way I want to go with this.  Was being at WorldCon the thing that was a dream?  Or is it my doing laundry and dishes the day after I got home the dream?  These two worlds are so far apart that I have a hard time holding them in my brain at the same time.

The last few days I have been looking at the pictures that I took as well as pictures and posts that others have been sharing about our time in TX.  I see my name in posts or tagged in albums along with authors and editors.  I have to say it is a very unique feeling.  I don't see myself as a fan (though I am).  Nor do I consider myself an author (by my own definition).  But I am somewhere in between.  I like the feeling.  It makes me want to write.  Hehe.. which isn't saying much, most things make me want to write.

So I guess, I am not going to write about who I talked to or ate with.  Not that I won't be more than happy to go into great detail with anyone who wants to ask about my weekend.  But I just want to say that my time in TX at LonestarCon was amazing, maybe even more amazing this year than it was last year.  There are so many things about this new life that are beginning to feel real.

Don't Blink

I promised to write more about these firsts.  But it seemed like I should really wait until after Zeb's birthday to write about all of them at the same time.  The last couple of weeks have been crazy.

There was Zeb's first day of high school.  Now as my oldest child, he gets the special honor of doing everything in our lives first.  He was the first one to go to preschool.  He was the first one to go to kindergarten.  He was the first one to go to high school.  Of course there were many other firsts that Zeb did.  And most of these firsts brought me to tears.  So as we were getting closer and closer to this first day of high school I was expecting to be crying as I drove away from his school.

These things don't exactly make me sad.  There is a part of me that is sad at these milestone points in our life.  My time with my children in my care goes by so very quickly.  All moms say this, but it does seem like yesterday when they were babies.  And now he is off to high school.  These things are sometimes hard for a mom to get used to.  But they are also happy things.  My son is an amazing person.  I am so excited for him in this new stage of his life.

This post seems to be mostly about Zeb.  Because also this past week we went and got his learner's permit.  He had driven home from school a few times now, at least part of the way.  He wants to stay out of traffic so I don't make him drive until we are out on the quiet roads.

Wow!  Lets see how many changes and emotional things we can pack into one week.  Of course we end this week by celebrating his 15th birthday.  

The girls also started school this week.  But 5th and 8th grade, I have done both of these at least once before.  So they were much easier to handle.  Though I already look at Ella and know that in a few short months, 10 or so, I will have two children in high school.

Don't Blink!

If I do, the next four years are going to speed by and it will be my baby starting high school and Zeb off to college.  Slow down and enjoy every moment we have together.

Firsts or 837

There are several 'Firsts' that I could write about today.  But I think I will for the most part try to stick to one of them.  Then I will save the others to write more about later.

Today was Zeb's first day of high school.  Believe me, there are many things to tell about this.  It was a 1/2 day with only the new 9th graders.  It seems that he had a good day.  But this is not what I am going to be writing about today.  I think I will save that for tomorrow after he has gone to the second 'first' day of school... the one where they have already met all of the teachers and are there with the rest of the students.

The first I am going to write about, actually happened because it was my son's first day of high school.  Since it was a half day, I decided to to hang out in town while he was at school.  I had a bit of shopping that I needed to get done.  And, I thought I would spend the rest of the time at the library doing some writing.  This is not something that I had ever done.  I had thought about it.  But I normally go to the library with my kids.  So there hasn't been a good time for me to try writing there.

The funny thing about this plan is that it didn't work out for me.  The library doesn't open until 10.  I got there a half hour before this, hoping that it would have opened at 9.  So with all of this extra time I had to come up with something else.  I didn't really just want to sit in the car and wait.  So instead, I went across the street and got a cup of coffee and sat down to write.  This was also something that I had not done before.  Normally I do my writing at home.  Once in a while I have written at the park while my kids were playing.  And as I have gotten more and more brave about writing in public places, I have over the last two years started writing at my kids' basketball or volleyball tournaments (between their games of course).

I did not know how easy it would be to write there with people coming and going.  There was music playing.  So many things that could have been a distraction.  But I sat there and started to write.  It was very nice.  Then after putting 837 words down in my notebook, it was time to pick my son up from school.

Terror or Excitement?

Last week was a first for me.  Now that it is over and I have had a few days to think about it, it seems hard to describe.

This week started on Wednesday for me.  See, on Wednesday, July 31st, one of my short stories was on the top of the queue in my writer's group.  This was something I have never done before.  I have only been a member of this group for a couple of weeks.  I had been just been learning really how to write critiques on other people's stories.  I am not sure if that was even getting easier.    But now, here I was putting my words, my story, out there waiting for someone else to tell me that it sucked!

Well, of course I was not hoping to hear those words.  Nor was I really expecting to hear them.  I assumed that even if it did suck they would try to be nice about it.  But Wednesday night as I saw the email go into the inbox about the stories that I could read this coming week, I knew that mine was among the list.  I almost wanted to close that tab on my browser so that I couldn't see if there was new e-mail waiting for me.  But, I left it open.   That was hard.

In the morning when I saw a couple of new e-mails in the box I almost didn't read them.  My stomach hurt.  I was truly afraid to see what those messages held.  If I had been writing this post on Thursday, you would have been hearing something completely different.  I opened the first few critiques and read them.  Of course they found typos and a weird homophone mistake (as soon as I saw that I thought "WOW, how could I have missed that one?")  The perfectionist part of me took control.  I mean I had looked over that so many times.  Who had gone into my file and put those mistakes back in there?  Or worse yet, "I can't believe I sent that out for other people to look at with mistakes in it?"

Each of the critiques that came back with those sorts of things really bothered me.  But over all they weren't saying it sucked.  Again, I didn't expect that.  Still, Thursday night, I wasn't feeling all that happy about reading the critiques.  It felt like a very uncomfortable place for me to have put myself.  This is the sort of thing I spend a great deal of time trying to avoid.

Then on Friday, I tried looking at it in another way.  By now all of the silly mistakes that I NEVER should have allowed had been pointed out to me, most several times.  So I could mostly skip over those parts of the critiques.  I sat down and actually spent more time looking at the other things that these writers were suggesting.  When I did this, I saw several ways that I could make my story better.  That this thing that had been terrifying to me, well, it was actually very helpful.

When I read over my own words, I know exactly what I mean.  I know where I am going with this.  But when someone else is reading them, well, if there is a hole or something that doesn't make perfect sense, they can see it.  And if I can then go back and make these places more clear, the story will be even better.

By Sunday, I had decided that I loved reading the critiques.  When I saw a new one in my inbox, I would call my kids over and we would read it together.  Melinda, my youngest, was the most excited to hear what others had to say about my story.

After most of the critiques were in, I sat down with my kids and asked them what they thought?  Because of course I can't do or change all of the things that were suggested.  I wouldn't even want to.  But some of them suggested almost opposite things.  I wanted to hear what my kids thought.  If any of the things that those critiques had said were things that I should change.  Of course, Ella and I had already talked about a couple of things.  So she brought those up again.  Melinda told me that I shouldn't change anything.  That the story was perfect just the way it was.  I laughed and pointed out a couple of the typos.  She smiled and told me that maybe I could change those things.

The week to critique my story is now over.  It has been for two days.  I have saved all of the critiques in a file.  I guess my next step is to read over them again.  Then decide just exactly what I am going to do with my story.  There are several things that I am very excited to work on.  These things, I believe will make my story much better.  I am thankful to all of those who took the time to critique my story.  And I am very thankful that Jay MADE me do this, even though he knew I really didn't want to, even though I was sure that he was wrong and it was a terrible idea up until Sunday night when I realized that I was very excited to read each new critique as they came in.  I am almost ready to put a different story up in the queue.  Hehe.. But I want to look over it very carefully before I do that.  So maybe it will have to wait until I get back from WorldCon.  But if I haven't done it by then, I will do it that first week.  Now, I think it is time for me to go and critique someone else's story.  :)

Time

Times seems to be moving very quickly right now.  I posted may times in June.  But then nothing since July 1st.  As I sat down here to write, I had several idea of of what I was going to write about.  But I have now changed my mind.  I looked at the calendar today and realized that next week is my daughter's birthday.  It is hard to believe that this month is already getting near the end.  I have not only been away from writing here on this blog.  But I have not spent much time actually writing.  So just what have I been doing the last 19 days?  The answer to this question is easy.  I have been reading.  I have 12 more days to get all of my reading finished for WorldCon.  I still have almost 1 1/2 novels left to read.  There are other categories that I know I will not even get to.  But I am hoping to be able to finish the novel category.

To be fair, I am not spending all my time reading.  I am just reading during the time I would normally be writing and reading.  I have still been taking my kids to the pool.  The girls and I are still doing our Japanese lessons.  We are still playing and talking and exercising.  Oh, and I have been reading other writer's stories and doing critiques on them for my writing group.  That is new.  And it takes more time than I thought it would.  Hehe..  This is due mostly to me and the way I do things.  I have to read the stories at least two times before I do the critique.  Then as I am writing it up, I am skimming over the story a third time.  So far I would say that I have read at least 3 stories each week.  I haven't sent in critiques for all of those stories.  It is just my form of practice.  I am not sure if that is getting any easier yet or not.

Oh, and an update on my last post...  I did put one of my stories into the queue.  That is a little scary to me.  Mostly, I am trying not to think about it.  Right now, I just want to get this novel finished and get started on the next one.  It is time for me to get back to my reading.  Here is a funny thing, in the mail today I received the book that I had ordered.  I really, really want to read it.  I have been carrying it around with me most of the afternoon.  But I can't!  I have a job to do.  In 12 days (or less) I will be free to read or write anything else.  Now I need to finish the Hugo stories and get one more step closer to the trip to WorldCon.  I can't wait for that!

Writer's Group

Well, last week I did something that feels pretty scary to me.  I had been talking to my friend, Jay Werkheiser about some things.  He suggested that I join a writer's group.  There I would critique other writer's work and they would critique mine.  Both the critiquing and the being critiqued would 'in theory' help to improve my writing.  So that night I looked over the group that he suggested.  But of course being the chicken that I am, I did not join until the next day.  hehe.. This was not the "Oh, this is a good idea" sort of thing.  It was more of a "No, please don't make me" sort of thing.  I do know that it is or would be a good idea.  So even though I didn't really want to do it, I did it.

I spent most of that day looking over the site and getting a feel of how things worked.  Then I finally got into the area where I could look at the stories that others had up to be critiqued.  I told myself, okay, this shouldn't be too hard.  After all, I'm a teacher, a good part of my job is similar to critiquing someone's work. But no, it didn't really feel like that.  I do not know if that was the part of me that was terrified of having other people read my words.  Or was it the part of me that does nearly anything to avoid conflict.  It might have even been the part of me that just likes to stay hidden.  I like to watch and observe.  But writing a critique on someone's story was not just observing.

In truth, I am sure it was all of those things and maybe even more that was making this feel like a huge step.  Before I even read one of the current stories, I went back and read a past one and the critiques that others had done on it.  Eventually I had no more excuses.  So I read one story.  Then I read another.  And I read a third story.  Now I didn't really do this because I just loved the stories and wanted to read them.  It was still a form of avoidance.  I was looking for a story that it would be easy for me to say something about.  After all, this was my first interaction on this site.  I wanted it to be easy...and easy here would have been writing a critique on a story that I mostly enjoyed but had clear ideas that might have been helpful to the author.

So by now, it is night again.  I still have not written my critique.  I go back to Jay and ask for words of wisdom and guidance.  Or maybe what I wanted was for him to tell me, "Just do it!"

He actually did both of those things.  Thank you Jay!  I sat down once more with the story (the third one I had read) and wrote a note to the author.  Hehe.. change the word a little.  Does that make it feel less terrifying?  I took a big breath or two before pressing the submit button.  And it was off.  Phew!  That was work!

Of course as you might have noticed this was only the first step of this process.  I am supposed to do at least one critique a week to keep myself an active member of this group.  This is also how you are allowed to let others critique your stories.  This is what I felt I wasn't ready to do.  I told myself it was okay.  I would do critiques for others for a couple of weeks.  I just wanted to have a little time to get used to this before I thought of doing that second part of this step.

Well, the next night I got another push from my helpful friend.  ;)  He told me that I needed to go ahead and submit one of my own stories to the queue as soon as I was able.  So much for my waiting around and well, just plan not doing that right away.  I haven't yet done this.  You have to have a certain number of critiques before you can submit your stories.  But I did promise that I would make sure that I had that many critiques done and my own story submitted before we go to WorldCon next month.  

Corn Update

No brilliant thoughts about corn or cornfields today.  Just an update on the actual growth.  Hehe...  About 5 days ago, I was out walking and noticed that the corn was now just about knee high.  And yes, it was still well before the 4th of July.  I took a picture of the field with my phone.  But I did not come right back here and post the picture.  So now 5 days later, the corn has grown much taller than knee high.  It is closer to the full length of my leg already.

Picture taken on June 6th.

Picture taken on June 19th.

Well, I will have to see if I have some more exciting thoughts to talk about tomorrow.  If not, I may just sit outside and watch the corn grow.

Writing is Work

That title makes me laugh.  I never actually thought I would say that.  I have been writing all of my life.  I still have old faded papers filled with awful stories I wrote when I was a child.  There are times in my life that I haven't written much.  Maybe I just jotted down a few notes about something I would write later.  Or small bits of paper with a character idea.  There were a few years when my kids were babies, that I didn't really find time to write.  I was lucky if I found time to sleep.  But even then the scraps of paper with ideas filled my table or folder.

In fact I have learned that I have to write.  If I do not write, if I do not get those words out of my brain, I think it would explode.  So 'writing' has always been easy for me.  And by easy of course I mean a need.  Something that I didn't really have to work to do.  It might have been considered work to make sure the plot made sense or at times even to finish the story.  But I have never had to force myself to sit down and write.

Until now.

Something changed last year.  I have yet to decide if it is a good thing or a bad thing.  For my whole life (up until last year) my words had been mine.  They were for me.  I didn't want nor expect anyone else to ever read them.  And I would have never really considered sending them out to a publisher.  But last year all of that changed.  I could point to many little things that have pushed me in that direction.  Some of them have really excited me.  They have made me hopeful.  But mostly that whole idea still terrifies me.  I don't want to do it.  I have to force myself to do it.

It is hard to send things out.  It is hard to wait to hear back from them.  It is hard to read the rejection letters.  Then it is even harder to do it all over again.  Some of this is actually spilling over into the desire for me to even sit down and write.  The last few months I have started several new stories.  When I first sit down to write I am excited and ready.  But after a day or two, I find that I am forcing myself to sit there.  I let any little distraction get me away from my story.  Now some of these distractions I have to deal with.  To be fair with myself, a great many things have been going on the last few months.  Some of these things have involved a lot of thought and consideration.  I know that this is actually taking time away from me thinking about my stories.  And it cannot be helped.

Part of me looks at my stories and the lists of places I have sent them or plan on sending them and I wonder if it is worth it.  I had wrote for me.  It had just made me happy.  But now it feels as if I am setting myself up for quite literally 'rejection.'  Writing feels like work.

I am attempting to find a way around this.  I want to write.  But I also want to WANT to write.  So I believe I will just sit down for a time every day and try to write.  This might be anything for the "Blah blah blah... I can't think of anything to write today"  to the words of my stories and novels that makes me happy.  On top of that I will try to write more here in my blog.  I have been doing that this past month. It has been easier to write here than to work on my novels.  I believe that is because I know that I am not seeking anyone's approval for these words.  But I am also not ready to give up on the other.  I know that even though I really dislike it, that submitting is an important thing for me to do as well.  I do think that I will set up a specific time that I do that.  Hopefully this way I can avoid thinking about it until that time.  Even now I know there are several stories that I should be seeking to send out.  But today, I will not worry about that.  Today I will just write.

Oh, and the good news is... I had decided to do this on Sunday.  I had actually told myself I was going to start doing this.  So this morning while I took my walk, I started out by trying to think about where I wanted to go in my story.  The funny thing is that instead of that story, I thought of a different story.  This one I had already finished.  But I thought of a way to make it better.  When I got back from my walk, I sat down at my computer and reworked that story.  I will let it set for a day or two.  Then read over the new version and see what I think.  So I am happy that today I wrote, and tomorrow I will be ready to get back to that unfinished story.

Driver's licence

Ah, two posts in one day.  Crazy, right?  Well, after I wrote the last post I went for my morning walk.  And I spent some time thinking about stuff.  I realized that though I had told the facts about the whole driver's licence fail... that wasn't the whole story.  There was really a lot more to this thing.  Most of that is the hidden stuff.  I can joke about how funny it was (and after the fact, I do think it was funny), and of course still annoying.  But there is a lot more to this story.

When I first moved here, I had not wanted to get my driver's licence changed to this address.  It was sort of like a piece of my past that I was holding on to.  My kids and I moved here with my parents after my separation.  So the change of address thing had to do with change of life.  It was the loss of my marriage, my home and my plans for the future.  So I knew I didn't want to do anything with that at the time.

I did think that this would not be a long term thing, and I also don't like having to do things like that.  It is just a little out of my comfort zone.  Even though I know it was not a big deal.

Then after the demolition of my house (the address on my licence) I couldn't do it.  That was a different kind of pain.  It was loss of my dreams.  The brokenness of my life.  By this time I think it would have been okay for me to go and get my licence.  But the house thing just brought all of those feelings back to the surface.  So I continued to avoid it.

There was a bit of time after the house where I really dealt with a lot of that.  That was when I first went to get my address changed.  But as I failed to do this, I put that idea away.  Maybe it wasn't time yet.

So all of this was going on in the background of my trying to get my driver's licence.  It got to the point that this Monday when I didn't get my licence and knew I was going to go into St. Paul on Wednesday to get it, well, I thought of something.  I thought that it was interesting, that here I am going to St. Paul to get my driver's licence.  St. Paul is the place that I got my very first driver's licence when I was 16.  I am living in my parents' house again, and going to the same courthouse to get my licence.  It was like a circle.  Much of my life has been feeling like a circle the past few months.  It seems to be getting to a point where this BIG something is going to happen.  Like so much of the past was practice for something else.  It is a strange feeling at times.

Then I didn't get my licence there.  But I went to GI.  But this two was a circle.  This was actually more close to the real circle that I am feeling.  The last time I got my licence renewed in GI was just before I moved to Lincoln.  It is funny.  But I should have realized this months ago, and just gone into GI and gotten my licence.  hehe..  I think I am ready for the next part of my life.

Rejection Or Epic Fail

As many of my posts here have to do with writing, I will tell you up front, that this one doesn't.  Even though by the title it might seem that way.

This actually has to do with a tiny piece of plastic that a great many of us carry around with us every day.  When I moved back here almost 4 years ago, I didn't worry about getting a new driver's licence.  Yes, mine had the wrong address on it.  But it didn't matter.  Not really.  In the emotional state that I was in, I didn't even want to think about that.  And on top of that, I didn't view this move as a permanent place of residence.  I didn't know how long I was going to be here.  So why go and change the address when in 6 months or a year I would be moving again.

Well about a year and a half ago, I decided that maybe it was time.  They house, the address, listed on my licence didn't even exist anymore.  I had been here for a long time and didn't know when I would be moving.  So I should just go and do it.

I made the journey over to the courthouse.  Now mind you, it is in a town that I never go to unless it is to the courthouse.  I walk in with my one piece of mail as proof of address and figured it was a done deal.  What could be hard about this.  I had already gotten licence plates for my car.  I was just changing the address on my driver's licence after all.

Well, I was wrong.  I needed two pieces of mail to change my address.  Fail #1.  So I had to give up and go home.  Of course I was in no hurry to go back.  It didn't really matter after all.

Some time later I thought I have nothing better to do today, let's go and get my driver's licence.  I drive back to the courthouse.  This time I had two pieces of mail.  And just a note here about the mail.  It is a little hard for me to come by mail.  I don't really get any mail.  I don't have any bills.  My bank statement I view online. So there isn't much actual mail with my name on it.  Okay, here I am at the courthouse.  Fail #2.  My mail does not say "Lisa Montoya."  One of them says, "Mrs. Montoya" and the other says "Montoya Family."  So they send me home once again without my licence.  The lady there tried to be helpful.  She told me all of the things I could bring, bills, pay stubs..  None of which I have available to me.  Then she offered this bit of advice, "Go ahead and send yourself something in the mail."  As I drove home I considered this... Hmmm, really?  I could send myself something to any person's address and just wait for the mailman to deliver it.  Then grab it out of their box.  HAHA.. I could live anywhere.

By now I am starting to think this is not really worth the effort.  I mean having the correct address on a card that I only need if I get stopped by a police officer...

Here, I decided to give it a little time before I tried again.  I knew eventually I would have to get it done.  Okay, I have two pieces of mail with Lisa Montoya on them.  I drive back to the courthouse only to be turned away once again.  Fail #3.  This time she told me that the police office wasn't there.  Here, I need to be a little less of an introvert.  I thought she mean he needed to be there for me to take the test.  Which I didn't need to take.  I was just changing the address on my licence.  But I was starting to have a mental block about this whole task.  I drove home thinking about it.  And realized I should have asked her why when I was there.  But of course I didn't.

Alrighty now, here comes June.  I by now do need to not only change my address but renew it.  My birthday is coming fast.  And what do you know, in the mail, yes I said MAIL, comes my card reminding me to renew my licence.  I am sorry to say I was a tad angry at the arrival of this card.  Here I had been trying to inform these people of my "new address" for months.  But I had not been able to do this.  And yet SOMEHOW they did know my address.  They sent it to me here.  In anger I wondered if that card would be proof of address as they were the ones who sent it to me.  hehe..

Well, as you might guess I was still not in a huge hurry to try this thing again.  And then I thought, well, maybe I don't have to.  They sent it to me here.  Maybe I will try to just renew it on-line.  That was a clearly stated option on the card I had received.  And it would save me from having to drive over there a 4th time.  And I wouldn't actually have to talk to a person.  Sounded like a perfect plan to me.  I got on-line and made this attempt.  Fail #4.  It seems that I could not do this on-line because I was also needing to change my address.  Hmmm... but why or how had they sent me the card if I couldn't do it?  One will never know.

So by now, it is the week before my birthday.  And I am thinking what else can happen?  I have the card they sent me.  I have 6 pieces of mail with my name on them.  Yes, I know I only needed 2.  But 6 had to be better.  So Monday I get into the car and drive to the courthouse.  Fail #5.  It seems that the police office has to be there for them to take my picture.  I could drive to Fullerton today.  Or St. Paul on Wednesday or Come back here on Friday.  I chose not to go to Fullerton.  I went home.  hehe..  On the drive home, I wondered why we paid the people working in that office..  clearly they didn't actually have much to do.

So Wednesday I drove in to St. Paul.  (Now the important note is that my birthday is on Friday.)  I decided to take the kids to the pool in St. Paul, make it a bit more of a worthless drive just to get my licence.  I dropped them off at the pool and told them I would be back soon (hopefully with my licence)   I walked into the courthouse.  Yes, the man was there.  :(  There were like 7 people in front of me.  At least 3 of them were kids taking the test.  He was going to have to take all of them out driving.  THIS WAS GOING TO TAKE AT LEAST AN HOUR!  I stood there for a moment and thought, "Who Cares!"  I left and went to join the kids at the pool.  Fail #6   I figured I would just drive in to GI in the morning and get my licence there.  A huge metropolis like GI has more than one person working there and I would be able to get this finish.  hehe... if not, I could always go back to the courthouse in Central City on Friday.

So Thursday morning I got up.  I was in no hurry.  I exercised.  I showered.  I drove to GI.  SEVEN times.  WOW!  I had made seven attempts to get my driver's licence.  And now less then 24 hours before my birthday I was still not in possession of a valid current licence.  Surely it would happen today.  hehe..

I didn't know which building to go to.. there were four.  I asked someone.  I was not leaving this place without my licence.  I walked in.  Even though there was no one in front of my the lady made me take a number.  I almost laughed at this.  I filled out the form.  Pulled out my 6 pieces of mail.  She barely looked at them.  By this I mean she glanced at one of them.  Took my picture and sent me to the treasurer.  (now of course that isn't all that happened.  While I was there I asked about what I needed to have and do as my son will be turning 15 in a couple of months and I will be back to get his learner's permit.  Maybe that will only take one trip.)  I walked upstairs.  ALMOST there.  My paper in hand.  I give it to her along with my money.   Then she gives me a copy..a temporary licence.  They will mail me the real one in 20 days or so.  Once again I nearly laughed.  I had planned on leaving that place with a real new licence.  But instead had a little piece of paper.  But finally it was finished.  I had my licence.

Well, as I was writing this, I decided that maybe this is a little bit like writing.  Maybe I should take this as a sign of what I should be doing with my stories.  None of which I have yet sent out to 7 different places in hopes of getting one published.  Okay.  So this is about writing.  I need to go through my list.  I have been getting a little tired of the rejection letters.  So I have not been in a hurry to send things out like I had been six or eight months ago.  Time to work.

Corn

Today as I was walking I was noticing the corn.  I have lived nearly my whole life in the middle of a corn field.  I have watched the plants sprout and grow.  I have seen the harvest come so many times.  Every spring when the tiny plants first poke out of the ground there is an excitement of the new growth.

And as I was walking passed the corn this morning, I thought, "Knee high by the 4th of July."  A phrase I have heard again and again.  No one needs to tell me these words.  My own mind brings thing to the open.  The corn is not yet there.  Though it is closer to June 4th than July right now.  I do not doubt that it will make it there before the end of the month.

Then the spring will change to the heat of summer.  The corn will be taller than I am.  I remember infinite number of rides up and down the driveway on my bike.  The sunlight blinking like a strobe light as it shone between the stalks.

 As I continued on my walk.  I thought some more of the corn, growing forever in this place.  One more season.  And another.  Always does it stay the same.  There are changes yes, one year is dry the next the floods may come, or hail and storm.  Too hot, too cool.  And yet it grows.

Continuous, unending, ever there.  A circle looping back upon itself.  Lifetime after lifetime.  My children and my nieces and nephews run through the fields.  My brother, cousins and I did too.  My dad and aunts and uncles had their turns.  My grandparents, my great grandparents, my great great grandparents sat right here and watched this very same field of corn.

How much corn I wonder?  How many lakes would all of that corn fill?

There was one other thing that came to mind as I took my walk this morning.  This was a quote from Star Wars.

Luke: "I think those new droids are gonna work out fine. In fact, I, uh, also thinking about our agreement, about me staying on another season. And if these new droids do work out, I wanna transmit my application to the academy this year." Uncle Owen: "You mean, the next semester before the harvest?" Luke: "Sure, there's more than enough droids." Uncle Owen: "Harvest is when I need you the most. Only one season more. This year we'll make enough on the harvest that I'll be able to hire some more hands and then, you can go to the academy next year. You must understand, I need you here, Luke." Luke: "But it's a whole 'nother year." Uncle Owen: "Look, it's only one more season." Luke: "Yeah, that's what you said when Biggs and Tank left." Aunt Beru: "Where are you going?" Luke: "Looks like I'm going nowhere. I have to go finish cleaning those droids."

Ladder to the Clouds

As I sit and gaze up in the sky
I see the swirling whiteness high above.
The clouds float by as my
dreams and
hopes and
wishes
that I long to touch and hold.
But I know that I cannot fly.
So I watch from down below.

I begin to gather sticks and twigs.
I find some long strong poles.
And with some twine I weave.
I make myself a ladder.
A ladder meant to touch the sky.
I start to climb so slow.

A ladder to the sky.  I fear not heights.  I see my dreams as truth.
Truth I can nearly touch.  I reach the top of the ladder.  Clouds of angel softness.
Tastes so wondrous upon my lips.
 
Once here within the clouds and dreams I wonder why it took so long for me to come.
I place my foot upon the topmost rung.  I step up onto the cloud.  Tis here I want to stay.
No longer tied to the ground below.

But to late a realize.  I start to fall.  The cloud cannot hold.  It cannot sustain me.
I fall and fall forever long.  Crashing back onto the ground.  Tears slip from my eyes.
Though not caused by pain of body.  My heart aches for dreams and hope.
The taste of pleasure of the clouds.

I take some time to heal my wounds.
The ladder yet remains.
I try again to touch the clouds.
The desires much to strong to ignore.

Over and over again
I climb and fall.

But what can I but do?
To lay upon the earth and know
That everything I want
Is just a wish upon the clouds.

One more time I slowly climb.
To the topmost rung.
I lick my lips
I taste the clouds.
My dreams so close at hand.

I step down a rung.
Then another.
I cut the twine.
I drop the rung to the ground.

The ladder is not safe for me.  I shall never learn to fly.  It only tempts me night and day.
For things I may never have.  I remove another rung and drop it to the earth.

Would be much better for me to use them in another way.
When half the ladder lay upon the ground, I descend myself.
I take a hammer and some nails.  I gather all the boards and sticks.
I will put them together in another way.

I shall build a box.  A box to keep me safe.  I box to shelter in.
Every nail I hammer in closes the seal upon my heart.
I hardly dare to look up at the sky.
Nail
after
Nail
after
Nail.
The box is built.
The ladder is no more.
The sky, the clouds.
Are once again only dreams.
Dreams seen from inside of my box.

Ditches

Ditch

noun

1.  a long, narrow excavation made in the ground by digging, as for draining or irrigating land; trench.

2.  any open passage or trench, as a natural channel or waterway.

verb

3.  to dig a ditch or ditches in or around.

4.  to derail (a train) or drive or force (an automobile, bus, etc.) into a ditch.

5.  to crash-land on water and abandon (an airplane).

6.  Slang.

     a.  to get rid of: I ditched that old hat of yours.

     b.  to escape from: He ditched the cops by driving down an alley.

     c.  to absent oneself from (school or a class) without permission or an acceptable reason.

Today I am starting with the definition of the word.  Mostly because when I envision this word I might be seeing something that another person might not see.  When I was first given this assignment, to write about ditches, I thought of the deep wide trenches along the Worms Rd.  These are huge flat ditches that one could even drive a car in.  They are often more like rivers in the spring.  The last couple of weeks that is what they have been, filled with water.  

Then of course by thinking of the ditches along the Worms Rd it made me think of the play that we did in school many years ago.  It was for the anniversary of our school.  The teachers made it up from stories and memories of those who had gone to school there.  The stage was cut in two, the left side we acted scenes from the past.  On the right side was seen scenes from the present.  The old memory was played out, and a make believe scene in the future had been written to match.  One of the parts was about the ditches along the Worms Rd.  In the past on their way to school, (I forget the names of who it was now) the horses got spooked or something.  And they turned and ran into the ditch full of water.  All of the little girls came to school with dripping wet clothes.  Then on the present side, (the make believe story) the girls had been riding their bikes to school and for some reason fell into the ditch.  Also coming to school dripping wet.

Now this was the first thing that came into my mind when I thought of ditches.  But the idea of ditches also plays really well with what I wrote about yesterday.  Signs and too much noise.  They ditch was put there along the road to quickly take away all of the excess water.  It was there to protect the road and the fields from flooding.  All of that excess water is similar to 'too much noise.'

If I were to put a ditch around myself it would be there to carry away all of the bad stuff, to keep me safe from the flood.  Ditches can be very good.  Maybe that should be my assignment for today, rather than writing about ditches, I should work on digging this ditch.

The second thought that came into my mind yesterday was the irrigation ditch.  It has been many years since we had those here on the farm.  But when we first moved out here that is how my dad and uncle watered the crops.  They would walk the field and move those small tubes from row to row.  

Now on a hot summer day this little stream of clear cold water was like a magnet to children.  A perfect place to play.  Though we received a great many threats of punishment if we were ever to go near there, let along get into the water.  Some of it was I am sure my mother's fear that alone we might drown.  But there was also the chance that we would wreck the ditch and instead of the water getting to the field and the crops it would flow and spill out to places that we did not want the water to go.

The third part of 'ditch' I had not considered until this morning when I read the definition.  "To ditch" someone or something.  That is even more of a sad thought.  Possibly not one that I can even write about here at this time.

Too Much Noise or How Many Street Signs Do We Need?

I have a picture book called "Too Much Noise" by Ann McGovern.  I have had it for years.  I must have bought it way back in college as I was preparing to be a teacher.  I read it to so many of my preschool classes.  It has always been one of my favorites.  And as such, the children would ask to hear it over and over.  They can always tell the books we love the most.  These are the ones that we read to them with excitement and energy.

Well, I was thinking about this book this morning.  In the story there is this man who hears all of these horrible noises in his house, his tea kettle whistles, his bed creaks, the floor squeaks, and the leaves outside - oh, such noises.  So he decides to do something about this.  He goes to the wise man for advice.  The wise man tells him to get a cow.  He is unsure how this will help but he goes out and gets a cow.  The cow then just adds to the noises in this man's house.  It Moo's all day long.  So he goes back to the wise man.  Get a donkey says the wise man.  This goes on and on, until the man's house is full of animals.  By now there are so many animals making noise in his house that he is very very angry.  He returns to the wise man for the last time.  He is just yelling at him about all of the noise in the house.  Now the wise man remains completely calm.  He quietly tells him to "Do as I say.  Let the cow go..."  And on down the entire list of animals.  So the man does this.  Then he is sitting in his house.  He hears the bed creak, the floor squeak, the tea kettle whistle, and the leaves on the roof.  "Oh.  Ah.  Such quiet noises."

So in the end the very things that he felt were unbearable were relaxing and calm.

I don't know if these things will be related to anyone else but to me they were this morning.

I had been thinking about signs; road sign, street signs, signs we follow in our life.  Where I live street signs are pretty new.  Most of my life we didn't have them.  We either just had to know where we were going or use some landmarks.

How to get to my house:
Turn west on the mile south of Worms.  It is the last mailbox (mailbox...because you can't see the house from the road) on the south side of the road.
Or.
Turn west on the mile north of the big red barn.  It is the last mailbox on the south side of the road.

Some roads had names, but they were only known by word of mouth.  And these roads were usually the only roads that were paved.  Once you got off of the paved roads you had to just know the way.  The funny thing is that I still tend to drive this way.  If someone would give me an address to a place in one of the towns nearby I will likely not know where it is.  I didn't bother learning the names of the streets.  I got to places by memory.  "Grandma's block"  "Or just past the hospital"  I suppose this could be because I grew up in the country with no street signs.  But it has taken years for me to get used to and learn the street names.

Now though, I am quite good at looking up on Google maps anything or anyplace that I need to go.  I depend on the signs to show me the way.  I printout or memorize the path before I leave my house.  I focus now on those words on the green signs, ignoring the big red barn or giant windbreak that used to guide my path.  I no longer need to count the intersections or mile roads to know that I am in the right place.  In some ways I think it might have made me lazy.

So this morning I was thinking about a different kind of sign.  But I believe some of these thoughts carry through here for me as well.   I expect the path to be clear.  I expect there to be signs for me to follow.  But there are billboards, neon flashing signs, business signs, construction signs, signs everywhere.  Just like in the story, there is just too much noise.  Maybe it is time for me to stop looking for the signs all around me.  Maybe I just need to find the big red barn.  Slow down and enjoy the journey.

And really did I need to get to that place anyhow?  I just had an amazing thought.  When I was a little girl, my Grandpa and I drove around quite a few times looking for Cook-coo-wiches.  He would put me in the car, and we would drive out on one of those un-named gravel roads.  We would turn several places and go up and down a few miles.  We never actually 'found' cook-coo-wiches.  But those were some of my very favorite trips and it had nothing to do with the ice cream cone that my Grandpa bought me when we finally gave up and decided to go home.

Brick Walls

Well, need to start this out by telling myself, this is not normally who I am.  In fact likely tomorrow will seem or feel completely differently.  But today, I feel very negative or down.  Brick Walls.

I tend to look for NEON signs, things to guide me or show me the way that I am supposed to go.  Or that tell me I am on the right path.  They are normally something that makes me happy.  I feel like I am doing or going where I am supposed to go.  But the last few days it seems that these guiding signs have been telling me "Road Closed", "Turn Back Now", or simply "Wrong Turn."

Right now, I want to be the turtle I know that I am.  I want to pull back into the safety of my shell and just wait it out.  Part of me says this is not what you should be doing, that is why all of this is happening.  Stop, choose a different path and just give up.  But another part of me says, that I just need to be strong and everything will work out.  That if there is something you want you have to work for it.

But for today at least I think I will choose my shell.

Short thought for the day

To write about pain one must have felt pain so we create for ourselves those situations in which we will feel pain.  Sort of twisted and sick in a way, but today I wonder if it is true.

Exciting News!

I got some very exciting news a few days ago.  It seems funny that it has taken me 8 days to write about it here.  I am not sure why that is.  I suppose one reason is that there isn't much to say about it.  The news itself was exciting.  But it will actually be happening in 9 days.  And another reason might be that writing about something makes it real.  I am not sure this feels real yet.

A few weeks ago, Ella and I each submitted a story to a writing contest put on by a Con held here in NE.  Now up to this point this is not something that I had done before, no contests for me.  But I looked at it as if I was submitting a story to a publisher.  The only difference is that I wasn't going to get paid either way.  (Well except for the free membership pass for the convention should I have won.)  But I put that story and the submission into my submission spreadsheet and forgot about it.  It was time to wait.

Then on April 2nd after an emotional day, my aunt's funeral, I went out to enjoy the sunshine and get some exercise.  While walking I was attempting to work through the next few scenes of my current project.  I am glad to report that the exercise was successful and I knew where I wanted to go with the story.  Once back inside I was just sitting down to take off my shoes when my phone rang.

Now anyone who knows me, knows that I am not much for answering the phone.  And if it is a number that I don't know, I might not answer it at all.  But because I have started to substitute teach, there are now phone calls from schools and principals.  So I don't always recognize the number.  As I didn't with this one.  The area code told me it was a NE number so I answered it.   ;)

I am glad I did.  It was someone from the writing contest.  They were calling to let me know that I had won. WOW!  Lets just say I was little bit excited.  They also were hoping that I could be there for opening ceremonies.

Now of course I had to run and tell the good news to my kids.  They were just as excited as I was about the news.  There were several happy dances that we did.

We have yet to go to the convention.  But my story is going to be printed in their publications and I will be recognized at the opening ceremonies.  (Not sure how I feel about that... a little hard to be invisible there.)  This to me feels a lot like another step down this path that I am taking.  I am starting to call it my 'first acceptance letter.'  It isn't quite, but it is close.

When we get back from the convention I will write more about this experience.  I am looking forward to a weekend of geeky fun and real writers and authors again.

The Power of Names

Well it seems that once again Jamie and his blog has brought me back here, to my own blog. This morning I read his 'confession' about naming the characters in his stories. This of course did just exactly what he meant it to do. I got to thinking about the names that I have given people and things.

I guess that I am not always consistent in the way that I hand out names. There are characters that I have just given the first name that I could think of. Then there are characters who have been given a name because of the meaning. I might know what I want the name to mean, maybe foreshadowing something that would happen in the story. I might search for days for the perfect name. The funny thing is I have even picked the name because the meaning of the name would not fit the character. Other times the name I pick is due to the sound or feel of it. It was a name that flowed, it needed a certain sound to be right for the character.

But more and more, I lean towards picking the right name and not just the first thing I think of. If cannot come up with a name as I am writing I will leave a marker (NAME1 or Doc's NAME). I will do this so that I do not waste time on it as I am writing. Sometimes this person's name will come to me as I continue on through the story. But often, I will have to search for it.

The thoughts of how I named my characters also brought me to how I named my children. My youngest daughter has a name that means “dark-haired gift of God.” This name was chosen for her because we knew that it would fit her. When we first started looking for names one of our favorites meant blond or light haired. We knew that our daughter would never be light haired and it seemed wrong to give her a name that meant that. So even though we liked that name we continued the search. My older daughter's name means “elven light.” This now is a perfect name for this girl. Though at the time we gave her the name we did not know how well it would fit her personality. I wonder if she grew into the name or if we just somehow knew that it would be the right one for her. Now my son's name came from one of his father's favorite SF novels. This seems a perfect way for a geek's child to be named. But even here there were layers of meaning. My son's name and his father's name share the same meaning. So based on the meaning of the name he was named after his father. And on top of that, it was very similar to the name of one of the characters in the novel I was writing.

To me giving my characters the 'right' name is very important. I know that most people may never know or even care why I used the names that I do. But it is still important to me. I have spent a great many hours with my baby name book or name websites. Often that is how I start a new story, picking the names of the main characters. I can't get to know them until I have named them.