Peacocks and Other Thoughts

Dear Blog, It's Me, Andrea . . .

2009-12-18T17:28:00.000-08:00

Another Nano (National Novel Writer's Month) has come and gone - and my book nears completion. Yes - the book I've spent the past four years writing is coming to it's climax - and I'm suffering a little nervousness that I'll somehow fail to provide a satisfying ending. There is nothing worse than investing in a story and discovering the end leaves something to be desired.

What if that's me?

Aaaaaah!

But don't worry - I am persevering and continuing to type my little fingers off. I just hope my editor friends remember: "friends don't let friends sing on American Idol." If it sucks - tell me! Before I'm on national TV!

Other than my writing anxieties, all is well in the world. I've had to reduce some of my extracurricular activities - so I may be around a little more often. Then again, maybe not. I never know what's going to happen next in my life - and I wouldn't have it any other way!

And just in case I don't post before Christmas - Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or Happy Marketing Day for Retail Sales in Corporate America - take your pick of which saying you like best!

Nano 2009 - This is the Year!

2009-11-08T07:35:00.000-08:00

This is the year I will finish my novel. I know - I know - some of you have heard me say that before - but if I say it loud enough, and long enough, it will come true - and I hereby put all of my friends in charge of flogging me if it looks like my motivation tapers off and I turn back into a slacker.

Because I'm close. Very close. I have over 300 pages already - and I'm at the point in my novel when all hell breaks loose, and then all that remains is wrapping up the aftermath. Then I plan on giving myself a year (maximum) for editing - and its onwards and downwards to finding a publisher. The good news is, Fantasy has traditionally been the easiest genre to break into.

So I continue to trudge forward, nano-ing in my spare time and trying to force 50,000 words from my fingertips. (I did debate cutting and pasting some of my blog posts over, since these are essentially wasted word-count, but it just didn't fit the true spirit of Nano. I'm not trying to write 50,000 words. I'm tryig to write 50,000 ON-TOPIC words! YAY. )

This month coffee is my friend.

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Excerpt 1: Nano 2009

“At the very least, I think he will send a selection of dresses with the Lady Arisa tomorrow. With any luck, one of them will fit.”

Gwen’s cheeks flushed. “Is the entire court privy to issues involving my wardrobe?”

Arin chuckled. “The Prince was astute enough to ask about your injury – and it seemed safest to ply one of your tricks and turn the conversation to clothing. My other option was to discuss Lefyre and his unruly riding beast.”

“I find I rather prefer blue dresses,” Gwen blurted, her eyes sparkling.

Arin arched an eyebrow. “By which, I take it, you’d rather not discuss Lefyre,” he said, his lips twitching into a wry smile. He shrugged. “Aside from my conversation with Prince Naev, the rest of the evening was quite uneventful – save that Father Sideo stopped by the table and invited the both of us to join him for a picnic on the morrow. It appears that he feels Fenriod and Naev have had an unfair opportunity to spend candlemarks in your company – an imbalance which he means to rectify.”

Gwen drummed her fingers on the cover of the book. “On the surface, it all sounds reasonable,” she said, “but don’t you find it odd that all three candidates seem to be seeking out my company? Don’t you think they should be more interested in you, as the official representative of the crown?”

Arin started. “So much for a good night’s sleep,” he grumbled.

FuLlMeTaL aLcHeMiSt- BrOtHeRhOoD

2009-11-05T19:42:00.001-08:00

Somewhere along the way, I turned into a complete Full Metal Alchemist fan-girl. LOL! I never thought that would happen. On a more serious note - this series really deserves a serious look (and I've heard it has won numerous awards - though I still need to look up the information on that for myself). It took me a while to appreciate the characters - but the overall story ends up being breathtaking. And it has a lot of interesting themes about Life, Death, Hatred, War, and the Importance of Drinking Milk.

A note on the song . . . I don't usually like songs that are "screamers" - but this fit the tempo of te series so well that I found I liked it. I really really liked it!

Sharing my new found Full Metal Fan Girl-ness . . . and trying to figure out how to scrape $150-$200 to purchase the manga (in its original Japanese!!!) Christmas anyone? Takers? Anyone? Heh!

Nano 2009

2009-11-02T20:56:00.001-08:00

Yep. It's that time of year again. Time to blow the dust off the novel, make myself a pot of coffee (or better yet - find a coffee house where someone else will make my pot of coffee), and type my little fingers off.

So far, so good. I'm doing well for 2,000 words a day and all the events are falling into place. My main character finally got to be sniffly - and even better, she got to be sniffly all over the guy she likes! All is well (or not well) depending on how you look at it!

If I seem spaced out and/or hard to get this month, it's because I'm burning the candle at both ends, trying to keep up with my bento blog, trying to indulge my anime obsession, planning a trip to Vegas for Thanksgiving, and trying to keep up with my frantic Life per usual - in addition to typing 50,000 words. YAY crazy psycho me!!

Nano Nano.

Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow!

2009-10-31T13:52:00.000-07:00

Those big fat flakes that I found so endearing turned into a full-blown snowstorm! I faithfully called into work at 6:15 a.m. on Thursday to listen to their "bad weather" posting - which informed me we had an hour late start. So I sighed and went to brush off the car. Doesn't look so bad, right?

Until you realize this is the car next to me.

On the plus side, my yew tree looked absolutely lovely. And it's pretty hardy - the snow didn't break any branches that I could tell!

The schools were closed, so I took A. to the grandma's. Needless to say, the subdivisions were definitely where the worst driving conditions could be found. Whoever cleared their roads decided that building a one and a half to two foot berm as a ridge down the middle of the street was the best way to go. I nearly high-centered my vehicle :P :P :P (For those who don't have to deal with snow (Ms. B. in Las Vegas!) - high-centered is when you manage to land your vehicle in a drift of snow so that the tires can't get any traction, and the whole underside is filled with snow - making it nigh impossible to dig out). That berm was stubborn!

Luckily, before I started into work, I decided to call the bad weather line again . . . and surprise surprise, they opted to close the office! SNOW DAY!!!

I had originally taken Friday as a vacation day, but since we had Thursday as a snow day, I opted to go in. Unfortunately, it was also the day of our Halloween party, but as I had not intended to be there, I wore no costume. (I did, however, quote Clerks a LOT. "I'm not even supposed to BE here TODAY!"). Since everyone gave me a rough time about the costume, I eventually grabbed a few pens and a redwell label, and made the following nametag. The folks who know me thought it was a riot. Everyone else was confused! LOL.

Snowfall

2009-10-28T20:28:00.000-07:00

The first snowfall of winter. Okay - it snowed earlier this year - but when I opened the blinds today, there were large fat flakes of snow spinning out of the sky and coating everything with a soft wet blanket of cold fluff. For anyone who lives in Colorado - there are several types of snow. This was my favorite (mostly because it doesn't leave sheets of ice on all your windows) - but it is also the most damaging to the landscape.

My work graciously let us out two hours early to ensure everyone made it home safely. So I wisely chose to use that time driving over to a friend's house for a get together - because I'm silly that way. And I think I renewed my Colorado snow license by successfully making it to my destination despite several slippery starts and stops - and one light that I had to run - 'cause the brakes weren't going to cut it.

But it was beautiful. Everything was beautiful. And for the first time in a long time, it brought back the good memories of my hometown. The peaceful days. The times when we bundled up in sweaters and moonboots, when we went on moon-lit walks and the white flakes came spinning out of a dark sky filled with thousands of pinpricks of light (and how it can snow without clouds was always a fun mystery - but it does!).

It was peaceful. And even though I didn't think I was ready for winter, I really enjoyed the first true snowfall of the year - although I would recommend helping the trees out by knocking some of the larger chunks of snow out of their branches!

Rare Window Into The Inner Workings of Me

2009-10-24T19:00:00.000-07:00

This week was full of strange epiphanies - and hopefully a good measure of my own spiritual growth. And what are blogs for, if not the occasional post entrusting your thoughts to the cradle of the electronic world?

I am generally very good at keeping myself balanced. But every once in a while I get in a dark mood. Usually, reminding myself that no one can be happy 100% of the time (though I won't swear to that if we're talking about zen monkhood) will usually get me through the rough patches. I usually step back, take a few deep breaths, analyze what is going on, and set about making changes to whatever aspects of my Life threw me off balance. But every once in a great while, I can't figure out what my distress is rooted in - and I become particularly angsty.

Which is partly why I've felt like an angsty teenager for the past week - and my frustrations have been mounting, since I'm 32 and not 17, and we all like to believe that we left high school at some point.

You need to be touched, you humans. - Mercedes Lackey, The Last Herald Mage series. (I promise this quote will tie in in a moment.)

And more bizarre facts about me . . . I've always been very sensitive to things happening in my vicinity. For lack of a better description, we'll call it "atmosphere." If people around me hurt, I hurt. And here's the weird part - I hurt for fictional characters. It's hard to explain - but the way that people hear music - the way you can be at a concert, the way your body can be throbbing to the beat - I can hear a story that way. I imagine it is the way a musician hears their own work - the ability to sense a sound within yourself before it is born onto paper or through the unique voice of a musical instrument. And sometimes, when you touch that source of creativity so intimately, it hurts.

Where does music come from? Where are stories born? Are fictional characters entirely fictional?

And along with this strange ability to hurt for a fictional being has come the ability to truly learn from books. Everyone has always commented on how I seem to possess a deep well of wisdom. It's because I literally feel the lessons of a story. As I read, I incorporate the themes into my store of knowledge. This manifested outwardly as I grew, with people who always told me I was "older than my age." When I was in highschool, I was mistaken for a college student. When I was angsty and 17, with no boyfriend, everyone instinctively turned to me for dating advice, even though I was so mucked up I couldn't hold a healthy relationship. Weird, right?

And a third piece of the puzzle falls into place. Sometimes fictional characters are more real to me than "real" people. I suppose it shouldn't come as a huge surprise - given that I have very few ties to the real world. (And no - I'm not ready for the loony bin - just hear me out.)

Factoids (which some folks might call a "pity party" - but I'm not digging for sympathy - I'm stating the facts to help in understanding the rest of this vein of thought - provided you're still reading and haven't yawned and gone to sleep already . . . heh). My family is dysfunctional with a capital "D." Of the family I have left alive (and there aren't all that many members), half are not speaking to me, half are in distant locations, and the rest are dealt with in small, carefully controlled doses (mostly on their part, not mine). I believe they love me - in their own way - but the dysfunctionality means my own needs for a family are not met. And where most folks draw strength from their hometown and the relationships they built, my hometown was literally turned into a tourist resort. Imagine someone knocking down your hometown and replacing it with a "Disneyland" version of your home town, and you'll approximate the odd disassociated feelings I have. I can visit, but I have no one to stay with, and while the building look the same - they aren't the building in my memory. In short - I'm like a tree with no roots.

You need to be touched, you humans. Think about that quote for a moment. Think about all of the connections that enable us to go on living. We have our friends. We have our families. We have daily interactions with strangers - interactions that may alter the course of someone's life. Stopping to help someone pick up a scattering of paper may keep them from committing suicide. Leaving a $20 tip for a waitress may mean she pays her gas bill for the first time in months. We just don't know. I do believe we are all connected. I think we meet the people we meet for a reason. I think we all have a purpose.

But I hurt for others. I hurt for myself. I hurt so deeply that I've learned how to build my own internal walls to preserve who I am. In high school it wasn't so much peer pressure as an actual reworking of my own personality and soul. I have the odd ability to tear my own personality to it's constituent parts. If I had a behavior that someone disapproved of, I would wrench it out of myself and then try and stitch the wounded pieces back together. (Welcome to why relationships were not the best idea). Imagine that you have a habit of brushing your hair out of your face. Imagine that someone didn't like that - and so you were able to just stop. Stop laughing. Stop feeling. Stop enjoying one activity or another.

One of the best things I did in college was lock myself out of my own damn personality and learn to love myself, as I am.

And so when no one of flesh and blood has been available, I've always had my books. I've read some stories until they are emblazoned in my mind. Read the books until the covers literally fell off. And when I cried, that is where I poured my heart and soul. And maybe that's why the gateway opened - and why I can hear the voices of things that don't exist so clearly. When you are a writer, you literally have conversations with these "figments of your imagination." You "see" them with your inner eyes. To a great extent, you decide where they are going - what they are doing - if and when they live or die.

In the darkness, when I feel alone, I can feel them holding me. Sometimes, I think it is only the presence of these fictional characters that keep me sane. (How's that for an argument against being committed? "Gee, Doc - I'll be fine as long as I can hear the voices in my head.") And reality blurs. There are some days when I feel torn between two worlds. When I feel that there have to be other places that exist - even if they exist without being connected to our reality. And in an effort to not injure myself over the years (or be committed - let's be honest here) I've become very very good at hiding what I'm thinking. (Though my Philosophy professor in college wanted me to major in Philosophy. Good grief! I thought an English Major was pretty useless, but what would I have done with Philosophy?!)

So that's why I'm posting this little tidbit into my world. No one knows what I'm thinking unless I say it - and so I am saying it - in black and white, for any who care. I'm strong - but I still need to be touched. I need to have friends I can rely on, and people who let me be myself. My angsty mood has been because I've been hurting for so many friends and family, and at the same time, I feel as though I'm not supported. And I'm taking active steps to fix that (this blog is one, believe it or not!). I need to find people who accept me - inner voices and all. Who are willing to discuss worlds of possibilities as though possibilities exist. Because some of my best friends aren't real, but that doesn't mean the lessons they've taught me aren't real.

It is hard to explain - because I love my Life. I love the person I am. I love my baby-boo with all my heart. I am so thankful for all my friends and the people I know care about me. This post is me looking in the mirror and acknowledging the shadows - the needs that aren't being met and are throwing me off kilter. But I do Love myself. And I believe loving yourself is the first step in loving outside of yourself. I know I'm not alone . . . I just feel . . . isolated. And the first step to breaking isolation is looking for another person to validate your own existence. It's weird that we need to look outside of ourselves for answers - but sometimes we do. Ultimately when you write a novel, you write for yourself - but what is a novel without an audience? Why do we read what other people have written?

I know what you're thinking - I should have taken my Philosophy professor up on the offer . . . maybe that's why the Universe is still messing with me. Now it's my job to find the place where I fit in . . . I guess you could say I'm beginning to search for my own purpose - be it large or small. Ultimately, I want to find the things here and now, that I can "feel" as strongly for as their fictional counterparts. Because fiction comes from somewhere - so I have a hope that the things the stories are based on exist. That's the theory, at any rate. Wish me luck!

On Full Metal Alchemist . . .

2009-10-21T10:45:00.000-07:00

So, T. and I just finished watching the anime Full Metal Alchemist, which - while highly disturbing on many levels - turned out to be very very good. A lot of the earlier depressing "filler" episodes turned out not to be filler at all - and while character development was slow at first, I did eventually come to really enjoy the characters and the tight story line. All in all, I would recommend it, but be prepared for some true weirdness. In fact, when T. and I were trying to watch the ending of the series, A. refused to leave the room. So mommy tried to explain that this movie was for adults, and there might be scary things we couldn't explain (yes - I'm giving disclaimers to my 5 year old . . . why do you ask?). And when we turned the movie on, it didn't take more than a minute before A. gasped and said (in a very small, very cute, very horrified voice) "Mommy! . . . Why is that man's head on BACKWARDS?!" Heh heh. Give your child mental blocks for Christmas, right?

Having said all that - we just finished watching the movie "Conquerors of Shamballa" which takes place 2 years after the rest of the series. FOR THOSE WHO DON'T WANT SPOILERS, STOP READING HERE.

The funniest part of the whole movie was when Ed's friend Alphonso, builder of rockets, mentions that Ed is awfully quiet and doesn't seem to show an interest in developing relationships with people. T. and I looked at each other and burst into laughter. I think the whole reason Ed stays quiet is because if he opened his mouth, people would think he was insane, or scary, or insanely scary, and they would run screaming. Let's try a few conversations, shall we?

Innocent bystander: So, Ed, where do you live?
Ed: Generally in hotels or with people who will let me hide in their basement.
Innocent bystander: Umm . . . okay. But where is your home?
Ed: Define "home."
Innocent bystander: Umm . . . the place where your mother and father are.
Ed: ::shrugs:: Oh. Okay. Dad abandoned my brother and I when we were little. I think he's in some sort of witness protection program for people sought by all the denizens of Hell because of their abilities to manipulate massive amounts of human lives in order to grant immortality and open doors to other worlds. I'm pretty sure he's working with nuclear physicists at the moment, but we don't really get along.
Innocent bystander: And what about your mother?
Ed: ::uncomfortable silence:: She died.
Innocent bystander: But you have a brother right?
Ed: ::uncomfortable silence:: Um . . . had a brother. Or brothers. I mean define "have." Do I "have" them if they don't exist in this world? Or if I "have" their soul in a bucket? Does it count if they share my flesh but have no soul?
Innocent bystander: Umm . . . I don't think I'm qualified to answer that question. ::In desperation:: What about a house? Where's your house?
Ed: Umm . . . Al and I burned it so we wouldn't have anywhere to return to - to strengthen our resolve to . . . umm . . . well.
Innocent bystander: Resolve to what?
Ed: Never mind. Trust me. Never mind.
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Didn't work out so well? Right? Try this one!

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Conversation No. 2:

Myth-hunter: So, Ed. I've heard rumors that someone saw a dragon. Want to help me see if we can find it?
Ed: Ah, no. No thank you. I'm pretty sure that's my brother. Not my brother who's a soul in a bucket. My soulless brother who was wrenched into Life from the remains of my half-brother. Anyway, we don't get along.
Myth-hunter: ::mouth hanging open:: Um. Yeah. Guess I'll see you later.
Ed: Probably not. Oh, and don't mention me, okay? Or he'll tear you apart piece by piece to find out where I am. I haven't figured out how to kill a homonuculi without alchemy yet, so . . .
Myth-hunter: Ummm . . . yeah. Maybe I'll go play Parcheesi instead.
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Conversation No. 3:

Innocent bystander: So, Ed, I don't mean to be rude - and you probably get this question a lot - but can I ask what happened to your arm and leg?
Ed: Umm . . . well my brother Al and I tried a human transmutation.
Innocent bystander: A human what?
Ed: ::uncomfortable silence:: Mom died of cancer, and we tried to bring her back from the dead. Only it didn't work out so well, and my leg was severed at the hip. But then I saw Al's entire body was disintegrating, so I bound his soul to a suit of armor, and the price was my right arm being severed at the shoulder.
Innocent bystander: ::uncomfortable silence::
Ed: ::uncomfortable silence:
Innocent bystander: Ah . . . well . . . um . . . ::in a very small voice:: did it work?
Ed: Um . . . no. Sort of. It brought her soulless body back - inside out. But someone else fixed that . . . and her body looked just like mom when I killed her four years later. ::silence::
Innocent bystander: Your brother is a soul in a bucket?
Ed: Not anymore. At least I don't think so. We found my arm and leg fused to the body of a homonuculi that came from my sensei's stillborn baby. And Al tried . . . well . . . um . . . look, this is a sort of painful topic for me. Do you mind if we talk about something else?
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No one else might find it funny . . . but I find it damn hilarious! That series is mucked up!

Miller Farm Madness

2009-09-27T08:39:00.000-07:00

For those of you who live in Colorado - SPREAD THE WORD. Miller Farms is doing just fine (despite all the hail damage earlier this year), but the news agencies did such a good job of telling everyone that Miller Farms was destroyed that nobody is going out there to get their veggies! On Saturday, we did our new annual tradition of taking the hayride and picking our own veggies, followed by a processing party at S.'s house - (thank you S.!) where all hands pitch in to de-kernel veggies, slice, blanch, package, etc.

Unfortunately, at about 8:00 p.m. one of our slicers decided to see how sharp the mandolin was with his knuckle - so the evening ended with a trip to urgent care (and apparently skin sutures - but no stitches). To anyone who owns mandolin - I used to sell Pampered Chef and they drilled this into our heads - ALWAYS use the safety. Mandolins are so sharp and work so quickly that by the time you realize you've cut yourself, it's entirely possible you lost a finger.

There were many jokes that at least we were washing his vegetables in his own blood water - but still . . . not the yummy vision you wanted of packaging vegetables, right?

For various reasons, T. was under doctor's orders not to go to Miller Farms, so it was just me and the squeaky-bot. You pay $10 per adult (i.e., person over 3), and each person (including your 5-year-old :P :P :P) gets two 10 lb. bags per stop for 4-5 stops to fill with as many veggies as you want. This year they ran our of 10 lb. bags, so they gave us 20 lb. bags. Thankfully, I was in a "quality, not quantity" mood, so I just focused on filling one 20 lb. bag at each stop for A. and I. We came home with corn, red potatos, 2 pie pumpkins, squash, zuchinni (one squachinni - he couldn't decide which veggie he was), cucumbers, green beans, and a 15 pound bag of assorted peppers for T. - whose response was "Jesus Christ"! Not the response I was looking for! Heh :P :P :P

The bento obsession is still going strong (I orderd a nori punch last week! YAY!) - and I've actually had one adult-person notice the lunches I'm sending A. to school with and ask me if I'm a chef. That was a nice motivation booster! If anyone is interested in kawaii (cute) lunches, I started an alternative blog called Obento Obsession. Half my friends and family thought I was just linking to that site as a cool place to visit (anoterh nice motivation booster) - but NO! Obento Obsession is me. Those are my Kung Pao Piggies, thank you very much! I'm hoping to use some of these lovely Miller Farm veggies in A.'s bentos this week. And I get to keep asking T. what he's going to do with all his peppers. Usually right after he mutters "what am I going to do with all these peppers?" MU HA HA.

Obento Obsession

2009-09-13T08:27:00.000-07:00

To spare my regular readers my on-going obsession with Japanese lunchboxes, I have started a secondary blog devoted solely to bento at www.obentoobsession.blogspot.com. My first week was fairly successful. I even managed to drag myself up at 5:00 a.m. to make the silly things! The funniest spot all week was when an attorney came across me washing out my seal bento (T. won't let me send him to work with a fluffy harp seal bento . . . go figure :P :P :P) when one of my attorneys asked what I had for lunch. It was sandwich day - so I replied "an egg salad sandwich, a PB&J samwich, potato sald, chicken/cucumber/mozarella skewers, grapes, apple, and half a hard-boiled egg. The attorney looked at me, looked at the bento box, and said "there is no way in heck everything fit in that little box." So the next day, I took the lid off my scallops bento to show him - and he said "Oh, my God." He even grabbed a paralegal to point out how cool . . . er compact . . . my lunch was. SUCCESS!

Moose? What Moose?

2009-09-08T18:31:00.001-07:00

My activity of choice over Labor Day? Camping on privately owned land - because you won't catch me within 300 miles of any of the public campgrounds (which were all reserved in February, anyway). Fortunately, I have friends who own private land. And I'm a shameless mooch (for this once a year activity, at any rate).

One of the more fascinating aspects of Colorado is it's schizophrenic weather. (I've actually seen it snow on a clear and sunny day. In fact, I think I posted a picture in my blog . . . ). What few folks realize is - the rocks and landscape are as varied as the weather. Beautiful - but nonsensical. For example:

The leg from Denver to Fort Collins - wide open, blue skies, and if people can see for miles, the circling hawks can probably see the ocean. Of course, as we approached Fort Collins, there was an odd haze . . .

A murky haze that cars just vanished into.

The landscape turned surreal.

There was no smell of smoke, so I think this was a low-lying cloud. A gray, smoky, misguided piece of mist. Or it was an attempt by aliens to turn our atmosphere into clone feed (how's that for a Doctor Who reference :P :P :P). Either way, on the other side, the hawks could see clear to Hawaii.

Plateaus . . .

became scattered rock formations . . .

and turned into pine forest.

I love places where you have to "take the road less traveled by."

Oh - and if you see a bunch of random fences in a field - they're called "snowbreaks." Believe it or not, this is a fence meant to keep snow off the highway. I'm talking 10 foot drifts of snow. Not kidding.

And . . . once we made camp - we did nothing. Glorious wonderful absolute nothing. We did have to pitch the tent in closer to our friends' free-standing gazebo structure since there have been sightings of moose (moose? what moose?) and we didn't fancy a 700 pound hooved critter wandering through the tent. Other than that - we sat in the sun. We listened to the wind roar through the trees. We took walks through the forest and played horseshoes. (For anyone who's never played horseshoes, you take a set of horseshoes (yes, those U-shaped things that go on horse feet) and throw them at a metal pole sticking out of the ground. If you're really good, the shoe will end up on the pole. If you're really bad (like me) your shoe will end up under the bushes or completely buried in the dirt.) We also set up some stumps and practiced knife, stick, and hatchet throwing . . . which felt oddly unfeminine. Though it was amusing to watch the non-dog try and fetch a hatchet.

Other highlights of our trip . . .

Happy camper. . . or wild kid-ling accompanied by non-pochi.

Sleeping bag for two.

A fuzzy picture of me taken by A. (Yes, I am reading a bento book - why do you ask? Obsession. Not kidding about the obsession part.)

And fire by moonlight.

I hope you all had a happy Labor Day as well!

The Particle that Shouted "I"

2009-09-02T20:01:00.000-07:00

Sometimes we all need a spot of encouragement. I feel like I was a particle, standing on the cliff - shouting "I" at the Universe to see if nothing came back but echoes . . .

and 'lo! There was an answer. A small voice that said (paraphrased, of course) "I kind of like your stuff . . . keep shouting."

And the muse stirred, the stars aligned, and the Universe presented all new inspirational obsessions that don't fit neatly in the 500 words or less Facebbok updates.

The particle nodded. And the blog lived.

(And I've obviously gone a little punch happy and had one too many shots of caffeinated beverages today. Starbucks enhances my weirdness factor by exponentials of caloric intake. Scary stuff. Scary.)

The Field

2009-09-02T19:40:00.000-07:00

I hear it in the field
and taste it in the sun,
the silence hanging golden -
the activity all done.

Long fingers of the day
comb through the rows of wheat.
Shadows filled with sound
and emptiness complete.

The furrows have been hollowed -
yet stand ready for the seed.
The soil of the ending.
The new beginning that I need.

I hear the crickets chirping,
I see the weft and weave Peace.
In earth and sun, and all work done.
Reflection, and release.

And So It Begins . . .

2009-08-31T19:50:00.000-07:00

And then I discovered Bento. MU HA HA.

The concept behind bento is to: 1) for adults: make food look so appetizing that you WANT to eat it and 2) for kids: make food look so CUTE that you WANT to eat it. And when I say cute - I mean cute. Hello-kitty, carrot stars, and little cats cut out of baloney cute.

The funniest part of the whole story being that I found a site called Adventures in Bento Making - and the author happened to be bemoaning her strange obsession with bento - which apparently includes insane behaviors like taking pictures of food you create and posting it on-line. And I felt oddly at home. Seriously - click on the link and take a moment to look at her lunches! OMG!!

(And yes - I've already placed an order for some bento making equipment. FEAR ME!!!!)

But before anyone laughs at my new obsessions . . . look at the following:

Bag of Gyoza (potstickers) $3.79. (With enough pieces to feed a 3-person family for two meals)
Shelled Edamame $1.27 (Ditto. . . )
Cup of Rice $0.50
Dumpling Sauce $2.79 (Which, given the amount needed per meal, will probably live in my refrigerator for months.)

20 minutes of cooking time . . . . and VOILA!

PRICELESS.

And not only am I officially posting pictures of my food . . . I have a SECOND new obsession as well. Please take a moment to notice the kawaii (cute) soy sauce dish I found at Pacific Mercantile. I've always been able to resist knick-knacks because they aren't functional. Well not anymore! MU HA HA.

Whoa nelly . . . let the obsession . . . er collection begin!

My First Day of Staycation and Thoughts on Asian Cuisine

2009-08-24T18:45:00.000-07:00

Originally I was taking A. to Las Vegas to see his grandmother. Then I remembered he started Kindergarten on the 19th, so pulling him out of school for three days at the beginning of the school year was probably not the best of ideas. Silly blasted education. (I won't admit how many other appointments I had to reschedule from the same brain fart. At least most of the receptionists were kind enough to hang up before they laughed at me). A.'s school instituted a new quasi-dress code - the boys can only wear white and navy blue shirts (solid colors) and khaki or navy blue shorts/pants (no jeans). He looks so cute! (Tika just looks lost - which is her default expression). First and second day of school!

A long story short . . . the trip went, but the PTO stayed - so I am enjoying my first ever Staycation.

So far, I like. I do a few housechores, play on the computer, do a few more chores, watch some anime, do a few more chores, prepare dinner . . . I could get used to this!

And speaking of dinner - I recently purchased a book of Asian recipes because it seems that a) Asian food is healthier, b) Asian food is cheaper, and c) Asian portions tend to be smaller (and yet VERY filling). Since there is not a lot of meat readily available in Japan (I won't speak to Korea, China, Vietnam, etc.) there tends to be a heavier reliance on vegetables, rice, and spices. So the very first step was to actually stock my larder with some standard Asian cooking materials. This led to a fascinating hour wandering around the Pacific Mercantile market learning how ingredients are categorized (let's see . . . this aisle is seaweed and curry - alrighty, then). Luckily, most of the labels sport English translations - but I'm confident enough in my hiragana and katakana that I think I could have located all of my ingredients even without the assistance, which is a neat feeling. Four grocery bags later (I bought sesame oil, chile oil, two kinds of sesame seeds, daikon radish, tofu, green onions, fresh ginger, canned pink sushi ginger (MMMMMMMmmmmmm), rice vinegar, mirin, srirracha sauce, frozen dumplings, frozen edamame, dumpling dipping sauce, and a 1/2 gallon of soy - okay, maybe not a half-gallon - but it's a huge bottle!) - the register rang up at around $40.00. Oh, yeah. I could get used to that!

And my first experiment was a sweet sesame tofu dish with a side of daikon/carrot salad. Aside from the fact that "sweet" apparently meant "burn your tastebuds off hot (the recipe called for a tablespoon of chile oil), it turned out beautifully and tasted wonderful!

Of course . . . if I keep this up, I'll actually have an excuse to buy all of the absolutely adorable Japanese serving ware at the Pacific Mercantile. MU HA HA!!!

The following day I decided to experiment with making cupcakes (a totally non-Asian food in practically every way) based off a recipe from the book Hello, Cupcake! Behold - the first batch of butterfly cupcakes!

For someone who lived off of Raviolis and fast food for 1/3 of her life . . . I'm not doing too badly! The funny part is, I think I might take to Asian cooking like a took to Japanese. For some reason - it makes sense to me. I like the ingredients. I love the recipes - and for someone who is usually a little timid about trying new things - I've actually enjoyed the experimentation. And as for the cupcakes . . . the book gets all the credit. It is filled with brilliant and easy ideas for making eye-popping cupcakes. And I definitely need to practice - A. is already demanding shark cupcakes for his birthday! (The sharks are so cute! They include blue frosting, water dingies, sailboats, and red and white rescue donates to help set the scene.

Don't worry - if I make the shark cupcakes, there will be pictures. Apparently I can't stop myself from taking pictures of my culinary creations. Heh.

This Intermission Brought to You By . . .

2009-08-16T15:01:00.000-07:00

The technological world - ever changing. Our hobbies. Our interests. Our children growing up . . . This intermission is brought to you by the advent of Facebook and my child officially starting Kindergarten. In all honesty, I will probably shut down my blog fairly soon - I'm not updating near as much as I used to - and I think it has served its purpose for several years. Now I just need to figure out how to capture the information so my favorite entries can be added to a real journal. Regardless . . . the rest of August will be mostly devoted to two things - me finally getting a vacation (a go nowhere - stay at home - and do whatever I feel like doing vacation) - and adjusting to new schedules. Can you believe I kept forgetting my child is entering the school system - and so I kept making doctor appointments and vacation plans for AFTER he started school?! Heh. At least my pain has provided amusement for several others.

All of this to say - I'm still here! I'm just having to be selective about where my time is going, and unfortunately, Blogger is not ranked high on the list at the moment. For those who know my real name - I've joined Facebook, and you can look for quirky comments there. Otherwise - we'll see if the muse strikes me and I wish to continue my blog - or if I let it fade. (And feel free to weigh in on the decision. If you enjoy reading my blog, I'd love to hear it!)

Jaa mata! (See you later). Kyuugatsu kamoshiranai (Maybe in September . . . ).

Girl Goop!

2009-07-16T21:31:00.000-07:00

I think I've finally officially become a girl . . . and I have a bathroom full of girl-goop products. Coming from someone who never wore make-up (and, in fact, literally ran from her mother and the eyeliner pencil) it's amazing to me that I have voluntarily - of my own free will - spent a significant amount of money on girl-goop.

I suppose it helps that I received a bonus from work right before my girl-goop party. But I must admit, so far every cleanser, moisturizer, hand lotion, lip balm, etc. that I have tried seems to be doing its job. And my skin feels great! (Which, ultimately, is the POINT.)

I haven't splurged on myself much over the years - so discovering a sudden attraction to skin products that make me smell wonderful and feel even better . . . it's like . . . like . . . wearing a super-sexy bra to work and no one know. I FEEL beautiful underneath.

And any guy reader I have just went "Wuh?!"
And any girl reader I have just went "You know it, Sister!"

YAY, Girl-Goop!

The Rumors of My Expiration . . .

2009-07-11T21:07:00.000-07:00

The rumors of my expiration, while untrue, were partially true. To recap - I caught a virus from my little petri dish (he brought it home from daycare) that knocked me out for a month. While everyone yelled at me to go home or get to a doctor, the teachers at the daycare and T. both confirmed that the darn thing was viral and there was nothing current medical science could do. Which meant I've had extremely low energy levels and a hideous cough . . . but felt fairly decent otherwise.

I was also frantically scrubbing my house from top to bottom because my cousin-in-law and aunt-in-law both became Mary Kay representatives, and I agreed to host the obligatory "please come to my house because I'm helping my relatives" debut party. Much to my surprise, pretty much everyone I invited came - which was awesome - but also left me quite thankful that I had folding chairs and TV trays to supplement my livingroom furniture space. I also have three bottles of wine leftover and no idea what to do with them . . . hrm.

I did make a few interesting discoveries during my cleaning spree . . . one of the cats thinks duffel bags = litterbox. GRRRRRRR. And while vacuuming the stairs, I noticed A. learned to write his name. In crayon. On the wall. And I left it there (because it's CUTE!).

In short . . . I'm tired. Happy . . . but tired. I think I've finally outgrown my warranty. Any damages to physical health or energy levels is no longer covered by the "exuberance of youth" clause. Instead, I have to flop in a chair (maybe with a glass of wine . . . hey!)

Movie Madness Weekend

2009-06-14T06:10:00.000-07:00

I went to see UP this weekend. I also went to see Star Trek and Terminator Salvation. And I still have three movie tickets left.

On Friday, a friend of mine very graciously gave me two free movie passes. Unfortunately, you can only use them at a United Artist theater, and I discovered the one close to us apparently morphed into a theater/restaurant, leaving the next closest United Artist the one downtown. I didn't particularly want to drive downtown on a Friday night and fight with all the bar-hoppers over an expensive parking place - so I went to see Star Trek at the Promenade instead. I caught the 9:45 show (which let out at midnight) and left the theater with more energy than when I entered. I LOVE STAR TREK!

Enter the next day (Saturday). We decided to go see UP - which was perhaps one of the most lackluster movies I've seen Pixar create. Aside from the quality of the movie, we sat next to a lady with a crying baby, a man with a constant cough, and there was a firedrill and partial evacuation of the theatre with about 20 minutes left to go in the movie.

So now I had three free tickets back to the Promenade, good for any show (at a matinee price even!), two free tickets to a United Artist, and a husband who desperately wanted to see Terminator Salvation. So we burned two of our tickets and saw Terminator - which was a decent flick, was entirely free, and was vastly better than UP - though it fell a little short of my new Star Trek bar.

I think I've exhausted all the good movie options until Transformers and Harry Potter. And I regret nothing!!! Except maybe UP. Seriously, wait for Netflix or HBO showtime.

The Explanation

2009-06-08T17:17:00.000-07:00

Is it bad when you realize the two books you are reading are "The Audacity of Hope" by President Obama and "Emergency" by Neil Strauss (the guide of how to survive when America falls).

I think this explains a lot of the current issues in my Life . . .

Life, the Universe, and an Exploded Calendar

2009-05-28T21:18:00.001-07:00

My schedule has officially hit overload and has begun making mysterious beeping noises, similar to those at a Good Times when your fries are about 45 seconds late.

Sound bytes of my Life:

Went to Paulinos Garden and purchased four flats of flowers (two petunias, one pansy, 1/2 moss rose, and various herbal plants). I thought I was being fairly frugal - so imagine my surprise when the cashier announced I owed $188.00. I was tempted to stutter something like "Are you sure? 'Cause there's hardly anything in my cart . . . " Good side . . . the flowers are lovely and A. and I spent some great quality time planting them. He declared all the vegetables are mine and all the flowers are his. Maybe I can trade a zuchinni for a peek at his pansies later on. . .

It's Miller time! And I mean Miller Moths. One of my attorneys had seven of the little critters fluttering around her office. Apparently I'm one of the only people in the office who doesn't harbor some strange moth phobia - so I've founded a Miller Moth catch-and-release program. I was even acknowledged by a complete strange who yelled "The Bug thanks you!" What do you reply to that? Really?!

I finally completed yet another video for my super-secret closet hobby (okay - it's probably not that secret if I'm posting it on the Internet. For some reason, YouTube isn't displaying the Share link to Blogger . . . so if you're interested, please click on the following text to see my Princess Yucie video. Princess Yucie is an anime that was meant for a younger crowd (you can tell by the animation) - but ended up being a truly touching story of the importance of teamwork and friendship - and taking responsibility for the choices you make. The best part - A. fell in love with it and constantly asked his dad if we could watch Princess Yucie. Priceless!

2009 Trip to the Sanctuary

2009-05-17T12:55:00.000-07:00

As anyone who knows me knows (and if you don't know - then you don't know me :P :P :P), my charity of choice is The Wild Animal Sanctuary, a facility that rescues large carnivores from all over the country (and even out of country), and is located roughly 30 minutes from Denver. The Sanctuary is an awesome place, both their mission and the habitats they have provided for their critters . . . When you visit the Sanctuary, you know the animals are happy. You can see it.

And since a picture is worth a thousand words . . . tigers tigers everywhere. And lions, and servals, and EEP!

Just a note - while the enclosures in the roundhouse appear small, they represent temporary holding pens for when the tigers are new, in need of rehabilitation, or older animals who need the heated interior to be comfortable through the winter. Most animals are eventually released into the larger habitats . . . which include swimming pools, concrete dens, and most importantly . . . acres and acres of land.

And by the way - lions are a LOT bigger than you think. They have a stuffed lion (for educational purposes) in their observatory. It's NOT the camera angle. I stand eye-to-eye with the beastie - and suddenly I have a whole new respect for small African villages that live in fear of these carnivores. And A. . . . A. is a hamburger bite.

The rescued animals have all the comforts they could want. A swimming pool to lounge in - or a shaft of sun in which to bake their brains. It doesn't take much to make for BIG happy kitties.

Unlike a zoo, where you walk habitat to habitat, the Sanctuary has an observation platform . . . and a plethora of tigers underneath.

There are also smaller habitats, with little exotic fuzzies. The serval was a sweetie! (Is it just me - or does her head look to small for her body?)

Jaguar? Jaguar? Can you find the Jaguar?

A long story short . . . The Wild Animal Sanctuary is a place well worth supporting! And the most important support doesn't come from wealthy donors . . . but from regular donors who can give small amounts on a CONSISTENT basis. They have multiple animal adoption plans, by which you can contribute $10, $20, or $30 a month . . . and those contributions keep this amazing place open! Adoptions also make great gifts. After all, who can find fault with doing a good deed for a fuzzy! For more information, you can check their web-site at http://www.wildanimalsanctuary.org/ but I highly recommend this organization. And if you can - GO THERE!

Mothers Day

2009-05-17T12:53:00.000-07:00

Who can resist a man with flowers?!

Awwwww!

Windows Movie Maker

2009-05-11T20:38:00.000-07:00

Apparently they broke Windows Movie Maker on all the newer Vista systems. After wading through dozens of tech forums, YouTube videos, and arguments over which codec packs to install, the final answer seems to be - download a program that can convert .avi files to .wmv files, and Windows Movie Maker should finally acknowledge the file.

I chose to download Prism conversion software for this purpose - and on a whim, I actually read the User Agreement. Now remember . . . this is a file conversion software. The following is a direct excerpt from that agreement:

"5. You may not use this software in any circumstances where there is any risk that failure of this software might result in a physical injury or loss of life. Any such use by you is entirely at your own risk, and you agree to indemnify NCH Software from any claims relating to such unauthorized use."

How in the heck was someone injured by converting a file? WHat in the cripe were they doing?!

The Inconsistencies of Grief

2009-05-02T10:01:00.000-07:00

Grief is an odd bird.

I found out on Friday that a gentleman I've worked with for eight plus years passed away. I never met him face to face, but we spoke constantly over the phone, and I was surprised to realize how much I'm going to miss the sound of his voice. He was an older gentleman, well into his eighties, and his passing was from natural causes, but it's strange to think that I won't hear his voice asking for the whereabouts of my attorney. Even after eight years, this gentleman never assumed I would remember his name. I hardly knew him, but he's been a part of my job since I began working - straight out of college.

I hardly shed a tear when my father died, so no one was more surprised than I when I spent a few minutes in my cubicle crying. Due to the economy, my company recently announced the company will no longer provide Kleenix, so as I wiped at my eyes with a sheet, I couldn't help but wonder if the company considered all the uses of Kleenix - which added hysterical giggles inbetween my sniffles. I'm sure if anyone saw me, they must have thought I'd lost my mind.

It's strange how grief works. The gentleman lived a long full Life, and I can only hope me and mine do the same. I wonder what he would have thought of a secretary sniffling in her cubicle. He probably would have been shocked that I even remembered who he was, let alone cried for him.

And More Reasons Why I Love Where I Work

2009-04-30T20:06:00.000-07:00

I am fortunate to be employed in a place that has some spectacular views. (Plus, it's nice to be able to look out the window and judge rush hour traffic from the same height as a helicopter.)

"Where the Mountains Touch the Sky"

True Friendship

2009-04-30T19:58:00.001-07:00

You can only park this close to your really good friends . . . REALLY good friends.

(No, I didn't bump her . . . :P :P :P)

Twitterfied

2009-04-27T21:08:00.000-07:00

I have officially joined Twitter (Facebook is around the corner . . . if I ever get over my insecurities from highschool and my fear of stalker retribution) . . . but in the meantime, there is an elusive peacock on Twitter.

Which begs the question . . . what am I doing? Right now?

Being good. Being very very good.

::sigh::

Universal Band-Aid

2009-04-26T15:00:00.000-07:00

I'm all better now. See? Okay - really I was better about four days ago, but didn't take the time to update my blog. In a nutshell, Alex is registered for school, and I'm opening a lemonade stand (I hear it's a great way to defray costs from the recent downturn in the economy).

I also joined a new RPG ("role-playing game" for the unitiated) based off of Joss Whedon's series Firefly.

I have a whole new respect for Joss Whedon's creations . . . and dang - it was FUN! When the gun battle broke out, my character went inside and made tea.

I found it amusing.

At any rate - all is well in the world, and I just wanted to reassure those of you who keep up with me through my blog that Life is progressing in its usual unpredicatable way. Whee!

Lemonade

2009-04-18T10:33:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately, my son was not accepted into the Charter school I had applied to. I know that when Life hand you lemons, you make lemonade. Unfortunately, I'm still in the sour part, and not all that interested in adding sugar yet.

I'm slowly coming to grips with it, but most of my frustration is not at the school itself - but at the actual mechanics of the universe. I understand why the school holds a lottery for extra slots, I understand that my child is "out of district" - which technically puts him at the end of the list. What I don't understand is why I'm continually haunted by bad luck.

When my husband toured the school, they told him we were 99.9% in - that they had never had enough applicants to even hold a lottery. So of course, the year we apply, someone found out that the school offered free all day Kindergarten - and voila! They had over 50 "in-district" applicants from the same community - of which, I can guarantee, 99% applied solely to reduce their daycare costs and not because they are interested in having their child attend the school. (The community has several of its own high quality schools - they just aren't cheap.)

Here's the best part - in the lottery side of things, my son's name came up first - which means had even ONE slot been open, he would have been a shoe-in. Instead, thanks to the influx of "in-district" kids, he's 24th on the list with no chance in hell of making it in. Which means he gets to attend our districted school, which is a known problem school which is currently undergoing a "salvage" operation to try and restore its reputation. I am fully cognizant that a school's government rating does not necessarily reflect the quality of its teachers - factors outside of the school's control can (and do) bring down it's rating . . . but that doesn't change the fact that the school is considered "poor" and a lot of the benefits it has are an attempt to attract new students since every family that can has fled the district.

(Note: my neighborhood is 95% hispanic. For the record, I have nothing against hispanics - even illegal immigrants. Just pay your taxes.)

See the lemons.

When I called my mother to complain, she tried to toss in some sugar with a comment along the lines of "Look at the bright side, if A. is the only non-hispanic kid in the school, he is the right age to pick up languages and he'll be bi-lingual." Not what I needed at the moment.

So my three day spat of hysterics has nothing to do with the school issue really . . . and more to do with the fact that I feel like Job. I feel like God has killed my family, razed my house, murdered my livestock, and burned my crops . . . for no apparent reason. I'm 31, and I'm tired.

So I'm almost ready to add the sugar, and scrape up the pieces once again. I know it's not the end of the World. I'm just tired. And it may take a few days to regain my optimistic outlook. I'm not so far gone that I can't count my blessings. . . and I'm very very greatful to all my friends - especially those who are letting me cry on their shoulder. Thank you.

Thank you. Thank you.

Fetusmart!

2009-04-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

Because every once in a while, you just have to adopt a fetus.

I adopted a cute lil' cow fetus
from Fetusmart! Hooray fetus!

Invasion of Privacy . . .

2009-04-13T20:36:00.000-07:00

Politics and religion. Most folks know better than to stray onto those two topics - though with my family, we have an extra explosive mix of 'Politics In a Can' - add in a dusting of insanity and conspiracy theory from my father's side, a pinch of VERY conservative Republicanism from my mother's side, and you'll understand why I considered not voting a form of self defense for many years.

I don't understand why people get so riled up about these two topics. But they do. In a frightening rabid dog kind of way. And we're fortunate enough to live in a country where people can rim their lips with Cool Whip (TM) (:P :P :P) and demonstrate in the streets. In many another country, all supporters of the losing side, and most especially the candidate, get shot!!! People don't appreciate that the freedom to whine is a FREEDOM. (Though Spandex are still a privilege, and not a right.)

In addition to being leery of politics and religion, I'm aware of the increasing globalization of the world, and the way the Internet has made the World a very close space. So close, in fact, that it is a common practice for employers to "Google" employees ("Google" not "goggle" - which is entirely inappropriate and punishable by a slew of arbitrary lawsuits from folks who just can't pull the stick out of their bum and get on with Life). In case you are wondering, Andrea Peach is not my real name. While I do admit to having multiple reasons for an alias (including several old high school "buddies" a/k/a stalkers), my main reason for blogging under a false name is simply a small sense of privacy . . . in that I'm not sure I want a prospective employer reading my on-line journal before a job interview.

Of course, you can argue that I'm blogging to the Internet . . . so really, where is the privacy? I constantly crack up when friends ask if they can share a particular entry with someone else. My standard answer goes something like: "No. I'm sharing it with every mook within a planetary radius who has some form of Internet access - except your friend. I have specifically coded my site to deny access to them on an individual basis." Of course it can be shared! Maybe I'm blogging because I've been bitten by the same bug as a professional singer who hangs out at a karaoke parlor. Maybe . . . just maybe . . . one person with an appreciation for my writing will happen to pull my blog out of the vast sea of inane babble on the Internet . . .

While I'm dreaming, anyone want a pony?

So given the above, imagine my surprise when I log onto my Comcast account, only to see an email with the subject line: "Reply to Your YouTube Comment on Toby Keith's Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue." First off, I've never clicked on any of Toby Keith's music videos on YouTube . . . which, following the straight and logical line of deduction, means I never posted a comment.

Uh oh.

Apparently my husband did. It appears he commandeered my YouTube account and posted a comment, to which the reply is the ever-bland and innocuous:

"Because this is my country. The liberals, the jews are the ones who destroyed it. half of this country is not the country my grandfather fought the japs for. i promise you PROMISE you if you went back in time and showed all those marines who hit Normandy and Guadacanal what America would look like today they would have switched sides in a heartbeat. in a heartbeat."

I'm not touching that one with a fourteen foot pole. In fact, I'm mortified. And I'm even more moritifed that my name is tied to whatever comment prompted the response. Gee golly whiz, Beaver, I'm so glad I worked so hard to keep a PG-rating on all my on-line personalities.

Se la vi. How many people actually look at YouTube anyway? If anyone comes after me to break my kneecaps over my apparent bi-polar political beliefs, I'm sure they'll swallow my story that it was identity theft. Not me officer . . . I don't know why my Uncle keeps a fully functioning chem lab in a broken down van . . . and no, sir, I don't know where he purchased arsenic. The bomb squad's already been out three times this year, so I'm sure if there was anything to be worried about, they would have sniffed it out already. Really. :P :P :P

Welcome to March in Colorado

2009-03-31T13:36:00.001-07:00

I love Colorado. 80 degrees one day. Snow the next. Here is a very proud Alex standing next to his first snowman ever! If you're wondering why our snowman has broccoli for eyes . . . some of us are not all that well prepared for building snowmen, and I think I deserve extra points for creative use of leftovers.

Why I Hate the News . . .

2009-03-21T09:48:00.000-07:00

Admittedly there are multiple reasons why I hate the news, and a complete list would probably last longer than the average attention span . . . so in the interest of retaining my readers, I'll stick with my current gripe. Aside from avoiding the news due to it's high content of stories meant to inspire a person to climb the nearest highest building and throw themselves from the top - The Denver Post does not practice journalism. They practice creative writing. As many Colorado-ites are aware (and the rest of the world doesn't particularly care), Denver's second newspaper, The Rocky Mountain, recently closed it's doors due to a bad economy and a surplus of folks with no talent. While The Rocky used to be the worst offender, The Denver Post has apparently incorporated some of the spirit of it's old compatriot - for which I recommend calling a Priest and performing and exorcism.

As a horrifying sample, I present yesterday's FRONT PAGE news! I realize the font is small, but I promise I am not making this up. I could get a clearer on-line copy, but it doesn't show that the article was on the front page!

First - the title meant to inspire warm fuzzy feelings of safety in today's troubled economy (I'm being sarcastic people . . . work with me!) "Trillion-dollar Trouble" Notice the total lack of actual description of the danger . . . which is followed by the heart-attack inducing text. "In Colorado and across the nation, our roads, bridges and water systems are crumbling, sometimes with devastating results." [As a side note, they left out the third comma. I'm a punctuation snob, and yes - it still matters. There was a 'fella who left $100,000 to be split evenly between Jane, Bob and Joe, and the court ruled $50,000 to Jane and $50,000 to Bob and Joe. THE COMMA MATTERS.]

But, wait! It get's better! Read the first line of the small print article (which I have retyped below, in case it is too small to see.)

"The dishwasher in Jennifer Williford's kitchen never washes a dish. She cleans them in a gray plastic tub, tossing the dishwater outside."

OMFG! IT'S FRONT PAGE NEWS

- courtesy of The Denver Post.

Trials and Tribulations of Knitting

2009-03-16T19:16:00.000-07:00

It would help the completion of my first knitting project if I could get the darn thing started. I've unraveled Alex's hat at least six times now . . . though I'm getting better at putting the project back on the needles. This last time, I noticed the pattern wasn't building properly (I'm working on knit two, purl two - which will make sense to knitters. For the rest of you - just imagine the pattern has to go 2 -2 - 2- 2). On a hunch, I counted my stitches before I unraveled it . . . and I had 87 stitches. Hint: odd numbers are not happy for an even pattern. ::sigh::

Invasion of the Giant Squid

2009-03-07T13:39:00.000-08:00

At last others are rallying to my cause! Apparently global warming is causing a population explosion of giant squid (frankly - I'm not sure how related those facts are - I think the squid have been lying in wait and the numbers of the squid army may have risen sufficiently to justify the beginning of the conquest of mankind). Their new habitats and breeding grounds have expanded to include the waters off the coast of California. Even the news reporter cites our best form of defense as eating them before they eat us. Take heed. Take warning!

Click here to see more about the Squid Invasion!

Calamari, ho!

Slim in Six

2009-03-03T21:56:00.000-08:00

Admit it. You know it's happened to you as well. One minute you're flipping through channels trying to find cartoons for your kid - the next, you're sitting on the couch engrossed in an informercial and thinking "wow - I could use that!"

My infomercial experience ended with stretchy exercise bands and a work-out program called Slim in Six - which claims to transform you body in six weeks. As is tradition with most infomercial purchases, I placed the program on a shelf, intending to get to it shortly, and dusted it off a year and a half later.

The amazing thing is - the program is working! I recently admitted that I will never make it to the gym to exercise, and when I remembered my long neglected infomercial purchase, I decided to give it a try on my own schedule and in my own way. Instead of transforming my body in six weeks, I decided a cardio workout 2-3 times a week would be useful and doable . . . and much to my surprise, I'm getting amazing results!

I will admit that I occasionally yell things at the T.V. (like "how come none of you are breathing hard?") . . . but overall, I am pleased with how things are going, and I can actually see new muscle definition.

Hooray for exercise!!! (And I think several members of my family just disowned me.)

My Theories on the Squidmasters

2009-02-26T21:28:00.000-08:00

For any and all who have not heard my theories on squid and octopi, mark my words - if these critters figure out how to develop a skeletal system capable of sustaining them on land, they will rule the world. Calamari is self defense.

So needless to say, my attention was captivated by the linked article, which is titled "SoCal Aquarium Blames Flooding on Curious Octopus." Apparently a "gregarious" female octopus manage to turn a valve in her tank and flood the aquarium offices with hundreds of gallons of water. According to the article "no sea life was harmed by the flood."

A few points here . . .

1. What genius put a valve in the octopi aquarium that could cause hundreds of gallons of water to flood the administrative offices when octopi are capable of unscrewing the lids off mason jars?

2. Do they still have a job?

3. Of course no sea life was harmed . . . the octopus was obviously just trying to share its lovely habitat with its "friends" . . . in the same way the man following you down the dark alley with a crowbar was simply fixing a flat tire and is now being a good Samaritan and trying to return the $10 bucks you dropped on the sidewalk.

4. Pray tell . . . how can sea life be harmed by adding hundreds of gallons MORE sea water?

I'm not exactly sure who won that round. The octopus is still captive, but it has managed to showcase the naievety and stupidity of its captors. I'd call it a draw . . . unless we get together a group of like-minded people and make a trip to Red Lobster. Calamari, ho!

Plug for Zillow.Com

2009-02-22T07:03:00.000-08:00

For anyone searching for a new home, I highly recommend that you check out Zillow.com. While it's information is not always the most accurate (I think it gathers most of its information from public records off the Internet, and we all know those are always 100% accurate, right?), the more features I stumble across, the more impressed I have become.

My personal favorite used to be the cute little chart they have showing the fluctuations of your home's value. Well, most people fluctuate. Mine looks more like a cliff that lemmings dive off (ha ha ha . . . if you have to laugh or cry, I choose to laugh - otherwise I would spend way too much time crying).

But my new favorite feature is the "Make me Move" price. You can log in, verify you are the owner of the home, and set a price that if some Joe walked off the street and said "I'll give you $______ for your home" . . . you would say "Righty-O, then" and call a moving company.

I've also discovered it will show you an aerial map of neighborhoods with cute little house icons next to everyone who is selling or FORECLOSED (no paying a monthly fee or signing up for endless email spam - HOORAY!) . . . and if you click on the cute little house icon, it gives you all the information you could want (though once again, I repeat, you may want to verify for accuracy).

For those of you who are thinking I'm a complete dork . . . no denials from this direction. If you need me I'll be in my closet . . . with my computer . . . playing on Zillow.

Perseverence

2009-02-14T09:56:00.000-08:00

Lately I've been changing directions so often I think I have some sort of virtual whiplash. And here comes yet another sharp curve and the sharp bark of tires on a curb. Le sigh.

For those who have never heard my housing sob story, allow me to hand you a box of kleenix and turn on the violin music . . . In a nutshell, we paid around $124,000 for a cute little townhome six years ago with the concept that we would live in it for 2-3 years and flip it for a down payment on a larger family home. Then the economy went to hell in a handbasket - and I got pregnant - which were both entirely unpredictable events. Within that 2-3 year period, the value of our house dropped to $80,000 - leaving us roughly $45,000 upside down. I won't say that I haven't had a great deal of enjoyment laughing at every financial individual who suggested I look into home equity loans . . . , but it is a little frustrating that I have been a good girl and faithfully made all of my payments for the last six years, and at last . . . at long last . . . we are only $10-15,000 upside down.

But now my baby is 5 and is ready for school, and it turns out we are districted for the most troubled school in the neighborhood. Not just a bad school. The school that is whispered about in back alleys other parents threaten to send their children to if they misbehave. So now a gigantic clock is ticking, and I need to figure out how to unload my elephant of a house without destroying my credit. I was considering calling the We Buy Ugly Houses folks - but from all accounts on the Internet, it sounds like they'll offer me roughly 40% of the value of my home . . . which is not feasible. Renting is a frightening option . . . given the quality of folk in the neighborhood - I'm afraid they would trash the place and make my situation worse.

So now I think I need to contact a bi-lingual realtor who is willing to sell my place for enough to pay the bank and cover his/her realtor fees . . . and not a penny more. I don't want any profit. I just want to be out from under my mortgage with my credit intact.

Any ideas? Any resources you think I should try? Anything a cousin or a friend did that might work for me? I'm open to suggestion!

Backyard Renovation

2009-02-08T10:40:00.001-08:00

The walls are officially bleeding and the voices are saying "get out" (and trust me! We're trying!). Last night at 2:30 a.m. T. heard a very loud bang, similar to a gunshot, followed by another sound and an impact vibration that shook the house and woke me out of a sound sleep. Lo and behold . . .

There was a car that came through our back fence. Scary? It gets it scarier. See the little black thing in the pool of light?

That's her bumper. This car that came through our fence was PARKED. Whoever hit the parked vehicle, hit it fast enough to send it roughly 40 feet, over a curb, and through our fence WITH THE EMERGENCY BRAKE ON.

On the bright side, no one was hurt and my household (including the fuzzies) are all safe. The HOA is responsible for the outer fence, and they are going to try and fix it by Monday - hopefully before the opportunistic vultures steal all my patio furniture. And the best news . . . the car that did the hit and run busted off their license plate (although it may not do any good since the perpetrator will probably call in their car as stolen ::sniffle::). Still, hooray for karma!!

There used to be a gate in our fence, before we found people hiding in our yard. Then we parked our small Toyota out there - until it was totaled in a similar hit and run. And now a parked car came flying through our fence. It's time to MOVE. I don't need any more messages from the universe.

Magnetic Poetry

2009-02-07T14:46:00.001-08:00

A friend gave me a magnetic poetry set for Christmas. We shall not discuss how long it actually takes to put a full set of magnetic poetry on a refrigerator. Suffice it to say, any time you are at a party and notice someone actually has their magnetic poetry set on display, you can be certain there was a day when they were bored out of their mind for a few hours with nothing else to do. Having said that . . . my first magnetic poetry poem is in!

A Woman is A Dream

A woman is a dream -
the cicada,
the yellow blossom,
the journey between morning and evening -
this is how we recall eternity.
We picture a dream.
We watch the rain pounding the leaves of the birch.
We incubate a summer
so a smile can bloom
and a hot drop of lust melt time.
The moon shines -
a gift which shakes the ice from summer.
A woman's breath calls to the spring.
The flower of her laughter shining -
its petals of light,
the language of the sun.

A Mommy Moment

2009-02-03T19:40:00.000-08:00

We've all had those days when you come home bone-weary, and all you want to do is kick off your shoes, sit on the couch, and order pizza, but you're not even sure if you have enough energy to dial the pizza place, let alone rifle your wallet for spare cash.

Unfortunately, my last bone-weary day included medicating the cat, making a trip to Petsmart for pet food and Sams Club for people food, cleaning the dog kennel from top to bottom and inside out after yet another canine butt explosion, bathing the dog for the same reason, and cleaning spilled gatorade off the couch before sitting down and calling my mother to beg for a reminder of why I put up with cats, dogs, and kids . . .

Then again . . . a picture can be worth a thousand words. Here is Ms. Callie, home from the vet and able to see . . . baking what brains she has left in the sun:

And a very sorry Ms. Tika . . .

And the kid is . . . just the kid. Getting bigger every day and reminding me to treasure the moment.

Introspection - The Art of Not Unraveling Your Knitting Project

2009-01-31T10:29:00.000-08:00

Life has its ups. Life has its downs. Life has its surprises. That's what makes it . . . Life. And as we are all the captains of our own ships, it never hurts to assess the sanity of the person turning the wheel. The encouragement for introspection and understanding your own motivations is an interesting, if frightening, idea. Sometimes it's hard to admit you're the captain, and you can't blame a shipwreck on the crew.

Originally, I was going to title this blog "Drama!" and it was going to be all about the vacation that was not a vacation (we've all had those) . . . but frankly, I've vented to my friends about all the stresses caused by cat, family, cat, husband, mother's cat, cat, family, cat again . . . and I realized that I want to let go of that negativity and turn on a more positive course. I put some of the concepts I've been reading about into practice, and when I was nervous, or stressed, I would repeat the phrase "My life is enriched by the friendships I have." And guess what? This last week has been going great! My cat seems to be making a full recovery (although we have to dose the poor thing 5 times a day for 12 days, so I'm sure she feels like it's only been two minutes since the last time we had to grab her and ram nasty-tasting pills and liquid down her throat). There has been an overwhelming expression of support - and several of my friends even offered to take me to lunch to help make up for the mangling of my vacation. I even received one of the increasingly rare credit card offers that has no balance transfer fees and a 3.99% APR on balance transfers until 2014 (which will save me thousands in interest) . . . all of which are things I should celebrate.

How does knitting tie into this? While I was stressed, I was working on a knitting project for A. I'm new to knitting, and arts & crafts have never come easily to me, so this project is a challenge on multiple levels. Not only does it require skill - it requires patience and the ability to be gentle and forgiving with myself instead of critical (harder than it sounds). In the midst of my vacation, I finally gave into the frustrations and unraveled my whole project so I could have a fresh start. In a sense, I think this was the right thing to do - but if I continue to unravel it every time I make a mistake, the hat I'm trying to make will never come to be. It's an exercise in balance. It's funny how you see the reflections of your Life in the small choices you make. Who would have thought a ball of yarn would be a mirror for the big picture? I've managed to take a deep breath and cast the project on the needles again (yet another new skill . . . and one that helped me stay up until 2:00 a.m. so I could dose the cat), but the true test will come when I drop the next stitch.

Words of wisdom: If Life is a ball of yarn, knit yourself a hat. If you don't like the hat, reassess, unravel, and knit yourself a scarf. If you don't like the scarf, reassess, unravel, and look within. Put down the knitting book, the advice won't help. Once you know in your gut that you want a pair of mittens . . . knit knit knit - and don't worry about the dropped stitches or other delays - everything that goes into the making is what makes your mittens, YOUR mittens.

Maybe it doesn't make sense to you, but it makes sense to me.

Resolution

2009-01-27T11:45:00.000-08:00

$4,000 later, the neurologist is still unable to definitively diagnose my feline . . . but the medications seem to be working and she is home and happy . . . which is all that matters in the end. We let her out of her carrier and she immediately proceeded to bolt around the house purring wildly and making bread . . . and followed T. and I around like a lost puppy dog. And the GREAT news is she appears to be focusing on our faces - so I think her sight is recovering. With any luck, she will return to normal - or at least as normal as any animal of mine can be. WHEW.

In the meantime, I need to do some financial juggling in order to figure out how to pay her vet bills . . . le sigh.

How Much Is Your Pet's Life Worth?

2009-01-23T21:08:00.000-08:00

How much is your pet's life worth? I've pondered this question and its hypothetical answers on a multitude of occasions. I never thought I would actually be put to the test.

So far, my pet's life is $3,000 and rising.

For the back story - I came home on Wednesday evening to find my seven-year-old calico crying inconsolably, shivering, and swiveling her head back and forth. Within a few minutes, I realized she was non-responsive and blind. My husband had seen her at 10:00 a.m., when he noted she was walking slow, but otherwise seemed fine . . . so her complete collapse took less than 8 hours. Needless to say, I called the vet immediately, but as it was after hours, their voicemail instructed me to contact the emergency vet. My conversation went something like this:

"Hi, my name is Andrea, and I have a cat that is disoriented, blind, crying inconsolably, and trembling which is why . . . "

"Yeah. You'll need to bring her in." [Insert a pause where I decide not to strangle the person on the other end of the phone because I do actually need their help.]

"I need directions," I finished.

Thirty minutes later, I was at the emergency vets, and to make a long story short - a $90 exam fee and $250 worth of blood tests later, they decide she needs to be kept overnight and rehydrated at $680 - $800. Translation - to take my cat to the vet, have them look at her, poke her with a needle to draw blood, and run an IV . . . $1,000 down the drain.

The next morning - they recommend that she sees a neurologist. In the meantime, I have a flight to Vegas (already paid for months in advance) that I can't cancel last minute - so I head out of town and get to hear the rest of this information third hand and figure out interesting ways of paying specialists . . . because apparently everyone requires FULL PAYMENT up front and they cannot accept voice authorization or credit card numbers over the phone. GGGRRRRRRRRRR. We have to move Callie from the emergency vet to our home practice (another $250 in hospitalization fees) . . . and then, from the home practice to the neurologist. At first, they inform us the neurologies is $2,000 for the exam. FOR THE EXAM. That means we will have spent $3,000 in diagnostics before they even tell us what we need to fix the problem . . . IF it is even fixable.

Choices. it all comes down to choices.

T. asks me what to do, and I tell him to call the neurologist and explain that since the economy is not exactly stable and dollars are at a premium, we're a touch reluctant to pay $5,000 to be told our cat has a brain tumor and is terminal. The neurologist is apparently a decent fellow who agrees . . . and so they tell us they can do an initial exam for $350. Much much better. Too bad it was followed by a request to do more blood work and a spinal tap . . . for an additional $1,000.

And so $3,000 into the DIAGNOSTICS, we have discovered that Callie is in perfect health. Perfect lungs. Perfect heart. Perfect bladder and kidneys. Even her eyes have no damage, and the spinal tap revealed no strange swelling or pressures on the brain . . . but she's still blind. Scary, but I can deal with blindness as long as she's not in distress. Animals are MUCH better than people at adjusting to these things.

So the latest theory put forth by the neurologist is that Callie has taxoplasmosis - which a brochure from the Cornell University College of Vetrinary Medicine (thank you Google) informs me is a parasite that infects cats, dogs, and humans (let's do an inventory of my household - cats, dogs, and human. Great.). In a nutshell, the parasite infects the animal, and when the animal's immune system begins to fight back, the parasite responds by going dormant and creating "cysts" in the animal's brain and central nervous system . . . causing disorientation, non-coordination, and blindness (among many other symptoms). Amongst the good news . . . the chances that the humans have been infected is extremely small . . . especially since I tend to wash my hands after handling cat feces. The bad news . . . while treatable, I don't know if they can undo the damage caused by the cysts . . . so Callie may be permanently blind.

And they are still not certain this is the answer. They are starting her on the treatment (antibiotics and steroids) . . . so we should know in a day or two if they are having any effect - but needless to say, I've spent a lot of time pondering how much my pet's life is worth . . . and when . . . and if I should stop treatment. And I'm furious that her care cost $3,000 - not because she is not worth every penny - but because I can't figure out why two sets of blood work, an IV, and a spinal tap cost so much. If they did an MRI - it would have added $2,000 to the bill. WHY? When did pet health care become so astronomically expensive?!

But I guess I finally have my answer. My cat is worth anywhere from $3,000 to $5,000 to me (and I know there are a multitude of people shaking their heads - but what can I say? To each their own). I keep sending her warm thoughts, and I hold my breath everytime the phone rings . . . because there is no guarantee even now that Callie is going to make it. Despite modern techonology I'm reduced to the old methods of thinking positive thoughts and sending her my best wishes . . . hoping that on some level my thoughts are helping her.

And all I want is to snuggle her and make everything all right (my only regret is I didn't snuggle her before handing her over. . . it all happened so fast - and I didn't realize I wouldn't see her again after I handed her to the emergency vet) - but I'm also certain that if she is in pain, and we can't stop it, I won't hesitate to have her put down.

It's a weird thing when you realize you love your pet enough to let someone kill her.

Not my most cheerful post . . . but then again, I'm not my most cheerful. I'll post the conclusion of the story, whatever it may be, as soon as I know . . . but I hope that when I go home in a few days, my fuzzy gets to come home too. And blind or not, as long as she's happy, I'll be happy. Funny how that works.

A Hodge Podge O' Thoughts

2009-01-19T07:34:00.000-08:00

Being an adult is hard. Being a parent is hard. Why didn't anyone ever tell me kids were expensive? Daycare alone is over $700/month - YIKES! And have you seen what the economy did to gas and groceries? YEEP!

But still, I've always found a way to tie things together and keep them working. Sometimes my finances were held togeher with bubblegum and duct tape . . . and a little more duct tape . . . but in the end - it appears everything is going to work out. Another five years (maximum) and I should be . . . ::drumroll:: DEBT FREE! Yes, I know it is entirely un-American not to be at least $30,000 in debt (and no, you don't get to count your home loan) . . . but I am on the path to cutting up my credit cards and paying for lunch with a $10 bill.

Freedom smells like money. Weird.

On the time management side of things . . . I have lots and lots of projects. Still love the laptop. Have spent more time playing computer games than writing novel on the laptop . . . so all in all, it has been a BRILLIANT investment. But somewhere along the way, the New Year crept in, and finishing my novel is one of my major goals for 2009 . . . so fairly soon I'll dust off my NanoWriMo card that outlines toxic caffeine levels, I'll crack the whip, and away my thought train will go . . . hopefully no one will expect me to use my brain at work until novel completion. Hmmmmmmm . . .

Thanks to S. - I've learned the basic two stitches for knitting (the knit and the purl) . . . heck, I might even be spelling purl wrong . . . I'm still VERY new to this game - which has reminded me exactly why my family does not do craftsy things and we all failed at Home Economics. However - I shall persevere at least until I finish my first project - a fuzzy hat for A. - and who knows? Everyone says yarn is addicting.

Japanese update . . . we are almost finished with our first textbook: Japanese from Zero. I have also figured out how to convert my computer into a mobile language lab so I can study Japanese over lunch with one of the world's greatest language-learning softwares . . . the Rosetta Stone (somewhere in the background, a bunch of breathy female acolytes just repeated Rosetta Stone . . . this happens often). More reasons the computer has been a valuable investment, and I REGRET NOTHING!!!!!

A. is turning 5 in March (WOW - I can't believe it either) and will be heading to school in August. Bad side - picking a school is super-scary. Good side - daycare costs will decrease by at least $300/month. Still, I better schedule in an extra manicure or two to relieve the signs of nail biting. When we moved into the town home, T. and I never expected to have a child (heck, we were only going to live here for two years and then flip the townhouse for enough money to get a down on a respectable house) . . . but now it turns out we are in one the worst school districts around. ACK! Regardless, where there is a will, there is a way, and I have enough will for several lackluster individuals.

My whole life is finally moving and opening up. Not to say there won't be rough patches, but I feel like the glass is half-full . . . and there's an entire pitcher the waitress left on the table next door, just waiting for me. It's a good feeling.

Twilight - The Movie a/k/a A Definite Improvement

2009-01-02T19:56:00.000-08:00

I must say, Twilight the movie is roughly 500% better than Twilight the book. They deleted most of the inane whiny dialogue (most of which occurs in Bella's head), smoothed over some of the most obvious inconsitencies (such as Bella's infamous Google search), and actually inserted some action scenes (INCLUDING THE VAMPIRE ON VAMPIRE FIGHT AT THE END . . . WOOT!!!!), proving that Hollywood can, on occasion, turn out a movie that is better than the book. There were a few wonderful lines that were not in the book, there were a few horrible lines that came straight from the book, but the word "butterscotch" did not arise once . . . so all in all, the movie receives my hearty stamp of approval (and they actually made Edward sexy . . . though the whole watching-Bella-sleep is still oh so creepy.

For anyone who has seen the movie, be sure to read the paradoy - Twilight in 15 Minutes . . . which is directly responsible for me having to bite my cheek in the theatre - hard - during the meadow scene to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter. Enjoy!

"Twilight" and Other Books of the Damned . . .

2009-01-01T21:24:00.000-08:00

First off, I must thank L. for loaning me her copy of "Twilight." It provided hours of amusement and saved me paying the purchase price . . . so once I finished, I didn't have to wonder whether I could get my money back. On that note, while there were things I enjoyed about "Twilight," on the whole, I was not overly impressed (here is the part where anyone who liked the book will want to stop reading and go get a cup of coffee). SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Maybe it's because I'm an aspiring author, but I'm overly sensitive to the artistic side of the craft, and small inconsistencies and character flaws send me into a frothing frenzy reminiscent of an anal retentive obsessive compulsive walking into a tuberculosis ward. I'm actually looking forward to seeing the movie, because it HAS TO be better than the book, if only because the word "butterscotch" can't come up every time a vampiric character is described, and half of Bella's whiny internal monologues had to have been deleted, or the movie would have a running time of over 5 hours. I also want to see the special effects when a vampire is caught in sunlight as Stephenie Meyer has modified the vampire's traditional powers of darkness and damnation, creating a vampiric race that refuses to burn to death (as is tradition) when exposed to sunlight, and instead sparkles. Yes. You heard me. Sparkles.

Where to begin? Bella is your typical awkward adolescent, who has decided to change up her living style (Big City sun bunny) to the small town of Forks, where she fights studiously to retain her Big-City attitude - which requires she judge everyone on an entirely shallow superficial level and rigorously take no interest in anything that doesn't involve her personally. Bella moves in with her father, whom she dislikes intensely enough that she refuses to refer to him by anything except his first name - despite the fact that he bought her a truck as a welcome home gift, lets her do whatever she wants, gives her money at random intervals, loves her unconditionally, and is generally every teenager's idea of the perfect parent. On the other hand, she worships her mother, despite the fact that her mother is a feather-headed, needy hypochondriac who would ditch her own daughter, in traction, in a hospital, because she is EXPECTING a call from her boyfriend and her half-dead daughter inconveniently regained consciousness from a coma at roughly the same time the phone call MIGHT come in. No, I'm not making this up. Check page 468.

But I digress . . . rather than giving the impression she is a self-absorbed b****, her Big-City attitude acts like a strangely irresistible pheremone, and half the school is immediately entranced with her, including the equivalent of the school quarterback. Being shy, and never having been found attractive before, Bella immediately refuses date offers from almost every student carrying a Y-chromosome. (Who knew Stephenie Meyer's was writing a fantasy?) In the meantime, she develops an intense interest in the boy she's sitting next to in biology - a boy so beautiful that it appears he just finished shooting a gel commercial (what does that mean anyway? His hair is SHINY?) - especially since he appears like he is going to throw up every time she gets near him, he's unbearably rude to her, and his eyes turn pitch black. It's a good thing she's already taken all of the high school courses at her Big-City school, so she can ignore all her classes and spend the time surreptitiously watching Edward as he curls his hands into fists and tries to to tear her to pieces.

Edward. Ah, Edward. The vampire who constantly goes into a snit about what a monster he is, despite the fact that he feeds off animals (just like a human), lives with a loving family that do their best to live in harmony and look out for each other (just like a human), and immediately appoints himself as Bella's guardian angel, saving her from death numerous times (not like a human, but not exactly a monster stereotype either . . . ). He may have killed a few people in the distant past, but he claims they were all thieves and murders, which moves his "monster" rating to that of a Marvel superhero (Dununununu . . . Batman!). THE HORROR! And oddly, despite a diet of blood, his breath is apparently minty fresh and every time he exhales, Bella does her best to inhale, which I find highly disturbing. In fact, Edward's worst characteristic is his habit of breaking and entering into Bella's room and watching her while she sleeps, which I find highly creepy and she finds utterly romantic.

You begin to see why my brain is about to explode.

In one of her brief conversations with her father Bella lets drop that several individuals have warned her to stay away from Edward and his clan (the Cullens). Bella's father explosively defends the Cullens, telling Bella that they are good folk and decent upstanding individuals who have never caused a problem, so Bella immediately decides to hide all evidence that she might be dating someone her father would approve of. Oh, by the way, the most outspoken individuals with the most dire warnings happen to be a group of Native Americans with myths claiming they are the descendents of werewolves who signed a pact with the Cullens that banned any friendly, attractive sunshine and daisy vampires from stepping foot on the reservation. (Note this pact has no effect against unfriendly, marauding, bloodthirsty creatures of the damned - which might have been an interesting commentary on gun ownership laws in another context . . . but in this case is most likely an instance of poor writing). But we're not going to explore any of the werewolf ramifications in Twilight, because if something interesting was inserted, the story might collapse under its own weight - and just because vampires exist, that doesn't mean Bella has to believe in or research werewolves, right?

And speaking of research . . . .

Bella decides to research vampires via the Internet, and types "Vampire" into the Google search engine. Her list of attributes are "Speed, strength, beauty, pale skin, eyes that shift color, blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf (DID SOMEONE SAY WEREWOLF?), cold-skinned, and immortal." And she gets . . . "very few myths that matched even one factor." (page 135). OH MY HAVENS! ARE THEY FREAKIN' SERIOUS? Of course, Bella immediately tosses out all of the movies, role-playing games, etc, that are based on the traditional vampire, which leaves only three tiny obscure entries about the Romanian Varacolaci, the Slovak Nelapsi, and the Italian Stregoni benefici vampires (that sound you heard is my hand smacking my forehead to make the hurting stop). Here's a little experiment . . . . I'm going to Google and typing in Bella's list - omitting Stephenie Meyer's "adjustments" (eye color, cold skin) . . . and voila . . . . 2,060 results.

Research aside, around page 400, something exciting finally happens, and a tribe of evil vampires begins to clash with the Cullens. Rather than describe something so obviously interesting, Stephenie Meyer wisks Bella away to safety in a hotel room in Phoenix, which is described in excruciating detail for several chapters - as Bella has nothing to do but examine the furniture and play with the cheap wall-art while waiting for all the actual action to pass over. The nefarious evil vampires manage to trick Bella into leaving the safety of her hotel room, selflessly giving herself over to death rather than risk her nigh-indestructible immortal love receiving a slight bruising of the knuckles from pummeling her antagonizer to death . . . and when we finally get to the crux of the novel, the face-off between good vampire and bad vampire, Stephenie Meyere ensures Bella loses consciousness so we don't have to witness anything so potentially frightening as a vampire-vampire fight. Instead, we get the ever so satisfying description from Edward "After I pulled him off you, Emmett and Jasper took care of him. . . . They had to leave the room . . . ."

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH. (At this point, I had to leave the room, for an entirely different reason that had to do with not nailing the book through a window from sheer frustration.) She can spend two chapters of Edward and Bella apologizing to each other for causing each other such pain and frustration . . . but we don't even get a one paragraph description of the actual fight? We know Edward has minty breath, butterscotch eyes, sparkles in sunlight, and possesses incredible strength and speed . . . none of which we get to see in action? Honest to goodness, Stephenie Meyer spends more time describing Bella's eating habits, driving habits, and showering habits than she spends on actual action and moving the plot forward. (And if anyone believes that Edward chastely stayed on the bed while Bella took a shower when he's proven he can be virtually invisible and travel through her house silently - EVEN WHEN HER DAD IS HOME . . . .I've got some oceanfront property in Arizona to sell you.)

But aside from those small flaws . . . there was an excellent 10 pages or so somewhere in the middle . . . .

On the bright side, I find the book highly inspirational. If Stephenie Meyer can be published . . . so can I!

Merry Christmas! And To All a Good Night!

2008-12-25T19:16:00.000-08:00

I don't know why I find this so amusing. I just do. The object in the box to the left of the Poinsetta is . . . was . . . a coffee cup. On the bright side, the box showed up in pristine condition.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

A Love Affair with a Coffee Cup

2008-12-19T21:35:00.001-08:00

In the spirit of opening Christmas gifts early . . . an old friend was good enough to visit last week, and she brought me the small red Starbucks coffee cup . . . which I now love in entirely unholy ways (although my unholy love for my new laptop leaves little room for new unholy loves). Still, the red coffee cup has worked its way into the room.

It's microwave and dishwasher safe (which most of the "cute" cups I've purchased from Target turned out to be handwash only . . . . grrrrrrr) . . . and it has a little indented around the rim, which doesn't make a difference until you take your first sip - and you realize the coffee cup is hugging your lip.

I love my new cup. Love it, love it, love it. (Thank you, R.!!!)

Starbucks has certainly cornered comfort coffee. Everything from the whipped cream, high carb, soothing music arena to the ergonomic and sensual coffee cup lip . . . . I might have to see if I can find a few more of these "seasonal" red cups before they leave.

In other news . . . Christmas shopping is now 80% done. (YAY!)

Novel writing has been put on pause while I deal with Holidays and actually reading the manuscript so I stay consistent (::cough cough:: Must . . . keep . . . writing novel . . .).

Knitting. Hmm . . . found a great deal on a beginning knitting book and needles at Michael's ($5 for all). Need to make time to meet up with S. for knitting instruction . . . and then additional time to actually . . . um . . . knit.

Nihongo . . . a note which deserves a moment of celebration . . . our informal Japanese study group is about to graduate from the first textbook. HUZZAH!!! Everyone is fairly capable of reading hiragana (which is an amazing accomplishment and the number one thing that terrifies people about Japanese) - so I need to think of some fun activity to mark the occasion . . . hmmmmm.

And Alyssa, my ball-jointed doll (yes, I have a ball-jointed doll), suddenly began crying out for attention, reminding me that I do eventually want to work on a blog project that will be a combination ficitional story and photographic work. Unfortunately, this will also mean spending money on wigs and clothing. . . which is what has kept me from completing the project to begin with. ::Sigh::

No wonder I'm always wondering what eats up all my time!
----------------------------------
Sample of Alyssa Aside . . .

Note: This blog is being written from the perspective of "Mike" - a 24-year-old bachelor who lives in a small apartment.

I don't know much about the little doll that I brought home (and by doll, I mean a real doll - standing 8" high - and not your standard high maintenance blonde wearing a little too much rouge). I'm not even sure why I brought her home, except there is something very sweet about her face. She looks as if she has been waiting for someone . . . for a very very long time.

We were both a little uncomfortable. I mean, what exactly do you say to a living doll? But then she saw the plant on the right-hand side of my writing desk, and her face lit up.

"I just love plants," she said, gently touching a leaf. "Don't you?"

And for a second I actually hoped that I wasn't dreaming . . . that all the odd little things that had happened this day wouldn't fade. Forget how I was going to explain her to my friends an my family. For this moment in time, at least, she was here, and alive, and real.

It wasn't until later that I discovered she has an attitude.

Cold Snap . . .

2008-12-15T21:03:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, in a place not so far away (actually, Breckenridge is about an hour and a half by car, in good weather), there lived a little girl who loved to play in the snow, dig tunnels, ice skate, ski, and build snow forts. She would stand still for hours in the coldest weather, attempting to catch the local wildlife, which - surprisingly - she was quite good at (and still feels terribly guilty about). After she could no longer feel her extremities, she would go inside and make a hot cup of cocoa, and - if the heat was out (which happened occasionally), she would start a fire using the huge pile of newspapers and small pieces of wood sap that were kept in a small tin container next to the fireplace.

Then the little girl grew up, and her mother moved to Las Vegas, and she traded her snowpants and moonboots for belly shirts and sunscreen. She spent long hours catching lizards . . . some of which did not survive (another thing which she still feels terribly guilty about), and whenever she felt she was about to expire from heat stroke, she would go indoors and get one of the nifty ice glasses from the freezer and drink cold water and hang out over the air conditioning vent until she no longer felt like passing out.

Which explains why I'm generally comfortable from negative 30 to 120 degrees Faranheit. However, the current cold snap (negative 18, with the windchill negative 36), has stirred a lot of old memories . . . and made me wish I hadn't given up my moonboots. On the other hand, I finally came to realize that I'm not the wuss I thought I was . . . when I lived in Breckenridge I also had a wardrobe meant to handle frigied temperatures (and a community in which you could puff without risking someone stealing your vehicle) . . . which made winter living far more bearable.

Still, the cold snap has been enough to take your breath away (literally), but it has triggered a lot of hidden memories. It reminded me how much I love the sound of crunching snow (snow only crunches when the temperature is below a certain number) . . . and how nice it is to walk into a warm room (and if you're extra-lucky, be greeted with a warm drink).

Maybe having a white Christmas adds more appreciation to the simple side of the Holiday Season . . .

Whatever the reason, while others may be daunted that the "high" for the week is thirty-two (YAY! It might get to the freezing point) a small part of me is embracing the cold snap. Then again, another small part of me (wearing a belly-shirt and holding a tube of sunscreen) is gibbering in a corner . . .

Have yourself, a merry little cold snap,
let the lights shine bright . . .
from now on, we gather round the furnace, tight. . .
So have yourself, a merry little cold snap,
and find your gloves and hand-warmers, tonight!

Come to Colorado . . .

2008-12-09T19:22:00.000-08:00

And in my on-going (although heretofor fruitless) effort . . .

Colorado is hands-down more beautiful than Las Vegas. Come to Colorado B. . . . . Come to Colorado . . . .

This message brought to you by the letter M. and the first few snowfalls of the season.

I am the Ghost of Halloween Present

2008-12-09T19:16:00.000-08:00

Apparently I'm a little behind in current events . . . Before the novel moved in and took over my November, I'd meant to post pictures of A.'s Halloween costume.

The fake muscles still crack me up . . .

Crossing the Finish Line

2008-11-30T21:13:00.000-08:00

And for the third year in a row . . . I AM THE CHAMPION!!!!!! (This does not, however, let me off the hook for finishing my novel . . . so thank you in advance to all my friends and supporters who keep bothering me until it's truly and completely done.) But for now, I can finally take a deep breath, figure out which bills I need to pay, and maybe even take a day to tackle the dust bunnies and dishes that multiplied during the month of November.

I have sailed to new shores . . . made new discoveries (mostly centered around what hot caffeinated drinks I like best) and literally created an entire world in my head . . . though I'm not so sure I should be proud of that one . . .

THANK YOU ALL!!!

Let's Hear It For the New Keyboard

2008-11-28T22:46:00.000-08:00

Which helped me reach a 3,000 word day!!! WOOT!!!

And for tonight's yummy excerpt (it's almost midnigt . . . I'm allowed to use phrases like "yummy").

-----------------------------

“I’m sorry,” she said again, flushing and folding her hands in front of her. She tried to calm the soft fluttering of her heart, telling herself again that this was not Eden’s Brow, and she had done no wrong answering the door.
“It is I who should apologize for the interruption, I think,” said the young man, running his hand through his short cropped hair. “But the Queen insisted that I report to you.”
Emma’s breath caught in her throat. “The Queen?” she asked, eyes wide and startled.
“Ah, yes. The Queen. It seems that Arin and the Empath to the Crown are not to return for two seven-days, and so the Queen thought it best I report to you.”
Emma nervously clutched her hands together. “I’m sorry,” she said, catching herself and laughing. “And I’m sorry to be saying sorry so often. Oh, bother,” she muttered. “But none of this is making any sense to me. Who are you? And why would you report to me for work?”
The young man looked stricken, then amused. “You honestly don’t know who I am?” he asked.
Emma wracked her memory, trying to make the young man’s description match up with any of the servants she had seen. When that failed, she tried to match his description to those in the books she had read outlining Kethellan’s nobility, but still drew a blank.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For the fourth time.”
“Prince Eglin.”
“What?”
“I’m Prince Eglin,” Eglin clarified.
“The one Gwen stabbed?” Emma said, then clapped her hands over her mouth.
“I know, I know . . .,” Eglin said with a grin. “You’re sorry. And if you don’t mind my saying so, you’re about as good at first impressions as your lady friend”

Naughty or Nice?

2008-11-28T17:12:00.000-08:00

Naughty . . . definitely on the naughty list this year.

In a surprise move, my Chief of Justification cold-cocked my Chief of Common Sense (okay - not really . . . he actually led him into the back room where there was some sort of presentation that involved monthly payment charts and computer statistics) - and the long and short is . . . I got my new laptop.

I'm typing on my new laptop - and I'm not joking when I say it's literally a pleasure. It has a beautiful full-size keyboard with soft keystrokes, and I can barely concentrate on my actual Nano story because I keep getting lost in how it feels to type.

The good news . . . I LOVE my new laptop.

The bad news . . . I sprang for the $1,100 model in total disregard of my budget. (Chief of Justification: "That last statement is entirely untrue and should be stricken from the record, your honor. In fact, the budget was carefully considered and weighed in making the decision, and for a mere $5 extra a month, it made far more sense to get the computer that will last longer . . . and has an extended warranty.")

::sigh:: BUT I REGRET NOTHING!!!!!

Otherwise, I have 8,000 words to go - and a birthday party and a concert coming up tomorrow . . . so I best get back to putting the word count into my novel rather than my blog.

Cheers!

Plot Bunnies!!!!

2008-11-25T22:12:00.000-08:00

I finally managed to jump a small piece of writer's block that was littering the path on the way to Nano-winning goodness. I'm at roughly 42,200 words now - so breaking 50,000 by the end of the month should be simple - especially since I don't have work on Black Friday. HOORAY!!!!

Nano Nano Nano.

--------------

"Got it," Feather said. "She understands. We can only give you a few seconds."

"A few seconds for what?" Trev asked, but then the griffins were in motion, a blur of speed and muscle. Feathers gold body met Cinder’s white and cinnamon with a meaty thud, and the two raked at each other viciously with their front paws, sending out a shower of multi-colored feathers.

Gwen circled warily, trying to find a way to separate the two fighting griffins, not realizing that her path put her closer to Trev than to the Lady Brianna.

Feather lowered one shoulder and rammed Cinder, trying to knock the smaller griffin off her feat. Cinder took the punishing hit, raking Feather’s haunch with one paw and drawing several lines of blood. Feather shrieked and whirled, his tail whipping into Gwen and sending her careening into Trev.

They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, hidden from Brianna’s sight by the bodies of the two wrestling griffins.

Gwen tried to speak, but Feather’s blow had knocked most of the breath out of her. “Look,” she gasped, ribcage heaving. She gulped hard, “look . . . to the ones . . . that are missing.” She dropped her head onto Trev’s chest, trying desperately to force more air into her burning lungs. “Stupid . . . birds,” she managed, just as the Lady Brianna rounded the corner and dropped to her knees in the sand.
The Lady’s gaze lingered on Trev for a moment, but he merely shook his head and indicated Gwen. “I don’t think she took harm,” he said, “but she can’t talk and she’s having trouble breathing.”

“Can . . . too . . . talk,” Gwen wheezed. “Just . . . not . . . well.”

Nearing the End

2008-11-23T19:59:00.000-08:00

Of the race . . . I broke 39,000 this morning and am hoping to surpass 40,000 by the time I go to bed tonight. Which leaves an entire week to write 10,000 words, attend two birthday parties, deal with Thanksgiving and other family obligations, figure out which bills I forgot to pay, and start Christmas shopping! No problem! Did I mention the concert, movie night, and nano write-ins I still have to attend?

And yes, for those who are wondering, my caffeine intake for the past month has increased to an alarming degree. I may need to take December as caffeine detox. But not now . . . now . . . I have the finish line in my sights and I'm thundering over it!!!

Of course, I've also realized I probably have another 150-300 pages to go to finish out my novel - so your continued support and encouragement are highly appreciated. This is the year I will continue writing until my story is told! For all those eagerly awaiting the finished product, editing should only take another 3 years ::evil grin::.

-------------------------------

[One of my main characters, Cassia, is receiving instruction on how to saddle and ride a griffin.]

Trev adjusted the last buckle, gently pulling against it with his leg to make sure it would not slip. “Would you rather I not tell you?” he asked. “Which reminds me, when she first launches, you’ll be tempted to lean forward, but if you do, you’ll suffer a broken nose.”

Cassia stared at him. “What?” she said.

“Nose,” Trev repeated. “Broken.” He shook his head. “She’ll leap in the air,” he tried to explain, “and with the first down sweep of her wings, her body will rock forward and her head will come up – which means, if you are leaning forward, the back of her head will connect with your nose.”

“Oh,” Cassia said. “Thank you, I think.”

Trev sighed. “I finally remember to warn someone, and they don’t appreciate it.”

As the stablehands approached Cassia, the Triad dropped her head low, raising her neck feathers and beginning to let out an ominous hiss.

“Too many,” Trev said. “Try just one, so she can keep an eye on what he is doing.”

Most of the boys stepped back, nominating a young black-haired youth to continue strapping Cassia into the saddle. The Triad relaxed and allowed the boy close. “Let’s see,” the lad said, winking at Cassia. “These would be the three straps that run around your right leg at ankle knee and thigh.” He skillfully clipped the straps together, and Cassia was unnerved to find herself stuck to the saddle, unable to move. “And now for the other side,” the lad continued, moving slowly around the front of the griffin.

“You’re speaking for her benefit, aren’t you?” Cassia said.

“I learn quick, Miss,” the lad replied, flashing her a smile. “Working with griffins makes you a bit soft in the head. If wearing one red sock keeps the bird tractable, you find a merchant willing to knit you a dozen pairs.” Several of the stable hands nodded in agreement.

“I had to train a silver once,” one piped up, “wouldn’t let me ride him unless I laid down flat in the sand and let him walk over me first. He never stepped on me, but there were a few moments each day that I was in a cold sweat as I wondered what four hundred and fifty pounds coming down on me stomach would’ve felt like.”

The lad with black hair picked up another set of leather strips, easily looping them about Cassia’s waist. “These are the main supports,” he explained, “to keep you tied to the saddle.” He grabbed a few smaller straps and connected the main supports to small silver rings set around the saddles. “These are the minor supports,” he said. “They help keep the main supports sturdy and minimize tearing. The small straps work against the tension in the main support, which makes the whole saddle ten times stronger.” The lad stepped back. “There we go, Miss. You should be ready to fly.”

Cassia tried to adjust her seat and realized she was locked to the saddle. “And how do I get out quickly, if need be?” she asked nervously.

“You cut the straps with somewhat sharp,” the lad answered cheerfully. “I assume you’ve a dagger hidden somewhere?”

Cassia nodded.

“Then you’re all set.” The lad flashed her a grin.

“Are you ready?” Trev asked, his eyes dark. “Feather’s been itching to fly.”

Just Wondering

2008-11-20T05:54:00.000-08:00

Does anyone else have problems with spiders hanging out in their dirty dishes?

And for those who were holding their breath (count: 0) the great laptop debate has been resolved. The Chief of Finances talked to the Chief of Common Sense, and they came to an agreement that, as long as the computer was a decent price and functional for the purposes I need it for, who cares if it is overly powerful, upgradeable, able to make toast, etc.?

So I have settle on the Dell Mini 12! Woo Hoo!!!! (Not listed in my previous email because I had dismissed it as underpowered. In the end, the portability brought it back to the top).

The Great Laptop Debate . . .

2008-11-18T05:11:00.000-08:00

so when I thought about purchasing a new laptop for Christmas, I was envisioning the new mini computers (in particular, the Dell Mini 9), but fotunately realized that my hands are too big for the keyboard and it would be nearly impossible to type comfortably. As I want this to be a portable writing computer, I figured that may be a minor set-back.

So after playing with a few other sizes, I think a 12" to 13" would be my ideal. The only problem is: they've done one of two things with every 12"-13" I could find. 1) They reduced the power and took away a lot of the features (not that the Mini 9 was all that powerful); or 2) they jacked the price up to around $1,000, which is about $400 more than I was looking to spend. Anyone who is not a computer nerd may want to skip the paragraph below. Anyone who is reading this who is a computer nerd . . . please weigh in! I'd love to hear your opinion.

I've located an HP 14" for $899 (still more than I wanted to spend) that has a 2 GHz Intel processor, 4 GB Memory, and 320 GB Hard-Drive. The only cons . . . still $200 over my original price, and larger than I really like.

But the 13" HP (same model, same features) is retailing at $1,100. Love the size, perfect power . . . way over budget. Not to mention . . . none of them seem to come loaded with Microsoft Word. They all have Microsoft Works (who uses MS Works?) - so I may need to budget for a software upgrade as well.

So, then enters the debate of whether I should go with a lesser brand and a less powerful computer (I was looking at the Mini 9 after all, which wasn't the most powerful thing on the market) . . . I found a Gateway with a 1.8 Intel processor, 3 GB Memory, and 250 GB Hard-Drive for $650 (and a pretty flower pattern to make it unique and off-set that it is a 15" - and therefore the biggest of the bunch) . . . but then I look at the $899 HP and wonder if I can justify NOT spending the extra $250 for a smaller, far more powerful unit with far more functionality. Which then leads my brain down the road of trying to justify the $1,100 unit . . . which I can't. I just can't. Darn it.

So if I look a little distracted, if I'm not noveling, I'm holding internal arguments with my Chief of Creative Justification and Chief of Finances (they're locked in a death throttle at this point). Not to mention the by-standers: Chief of Holiday Planning and Thanksgiving Family Events, Chief of Remembering Birthdays (I tried to fire him years ago for poor job performance - with no luck), Chief of Remembering Work Related Potlucks, and Chief of Early-Holiday-Shopping. I can't wait for all the Chiefs to get in an argument with my novel characters, which is bound to happen sooner or later as my brain bandwidth decreases. I'm sure it will be a riot.

No . . . seriously . . . a riot. Collateral damage and all.

Procrastination!!!!

2008-11-15T21:06:00.000-08:00

See what happens when I procrastinate? If you haven't ever been to FetusMart, I recommend it. It's one of those strange little websites that is highly disturbing and unbearably cute all at once.

Yay, fetuses!!!!

I adopted a cute lil' fairy fetus
from Fetusmart! Hooray fetus!

Reaching the Hurdles

2008-11-15T17:13:00.000-08:00

I have been a terrible slacker about updating my posts - and to all two people who check in on me . . . I'm sorry! Seriously, this nano is turning out to be the most difficult challenge of the year. If I look at my schedule more than two days in advance I suffer breathing problems - there are a startling number of birthday parties, nano events, concerts, movies, and other odd-ball events that I have agreed to attend. And Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is in there somewhere.

Unfortunately, I couldn't justify spending the money on airline tickets to go visit my family in Vegas this year - but while I thought that would mean less stress - it seems like everyone has seized on the opportunity of having me around, and doubled up the family commitments.

And then my laptop started dying. ::sniffles:: I love my little decrepit laptop, but it's finally reached a point where (1) when I plug it in, it turns on all by itself - no power button needed (it has no battery, but it was that way when I purchased it, so I won't add that to my list of complaints); (2) it does not play well with flashdrive software (even when I stop the process and eject the flash drive the way you are supposed to, it gives me a warning); (3) it always thinks it is 1980 (see no battery above) and it takes 15 minutes to set the clock and do other changes that enable me to surf the net; and finally (4) the screen is beginning to flicker and die (I HAVE A WITNESS!!!!). I was innocently typing along at the coffee shop, and a single white line cut across the screen. This was followed by two white lines, . . . then twenty . . . and my screen image faded out of existence.

I think this all boils down to - time to get a new laptop . . . and Christmas is around the corner. T. - of course - is not so sure I need a new laptop. (Maybe he is right, but I think I deserve one ::sigh::).

So now I am afraid to write my novel on my little laptop, because once the screen goes, it will be impossible to salvage any of the information . . . okay - not impossible - but highly inconvenient. I would rather keep it powered down and save the screen life for transferring files once I have my new 'puter.

Enough whining . . . . there may be hurdles . . . but I'm still planning on winning the race! Even if my laptop is whining like a jet engine when I cross the finish line!

-----------------------

“I am making a muck of this explanation,” the Lady said, smiling ruefully, “but how do you sum up a person in so few words? I’ve known Commander Stavelin my entire life, but he was not a Commander to me. He was family. He was,” the Lady shook her head, at a loss for words, “souvenirs from far away lands, fascinating tales and inappropriate jests. He laughed far more often than he frowned, and he treated everyone he met, including children, with unstinting kindness.”

Gwen felt her own throat begin to close as the Lady Arisa’s emotions swelled. Even without her empathic net, Gwen would have sensed the Lady’s distress.

“And how do I reconcile that?” the Lady whispered, her eyes glimmering with unshed tears. “How do I take the image of everything I ever knew, wipe it clean, and replace it with a monstrosity?”

Gwen was left speechless.

“He told me a story once,” the Lady sniffled, “about a warlord far to the North. My uncle was surpassingly good with historical facts and figures, and while I could barely remember half of Peiceland’s history, it seemed he encompassed the world in his head.” She laughed, scrubbing gently at one cheek. “I had asked him why it seemed that he hated his position, and in turn, he told me the story of this Northern warlord, who set out to conquer a chunk of land three times the size of our small country with nothing but a small nomadic army. The warlord was a fierce fighter and clever. While he usually took a village through means of trickery, it was ultimately his ruthlessness that he became known for. After he conquered a village, he would line up all of the survivors in front of a horse carriage. And he would execute anyone - man, woman, or child - who was taller than the wheel.”

The blood drained from Gwen’s face. “Dios,” she exclaimed. “To what purpose?”

The Lady Arisa smiled. “That was the lesson,” she said. “My uncle waited patiently for me to guess, and I think I will do the same.”

Gwen shuddered as she considered what drove the warlord’s thoughts. As quickly as an explanation came to mind, she would discard it, until the sheer number of reasons she could think of began to make her feel sick.

The Lady Arisa nodded, her eyes filled with understanding. “It is terrible, isn’t it?” she said softly, “All the things we can think of. All the things we never thought we could think of.”

Paranoia - The Computer Ate 1,000 Words!

2008-11-08T14:04:00.000-08:00

Every once in a while in a race, there is an unfortunate accident. An ankle twists. A foot catches. the runner doesn't clear a hurdle, but instead finds themselves inexplicably wrapped around the very obstacle they tried to clear - wondering why various parts of their body are suddenly blossoming in pain.

I spent all morning writing at the coffee shop . . . only to have my computer fail to save my work. Not that I didn't save. I saved every three seconds. But when I finally closed the document, the computer . . . ate my latest version.

I would say it burped . . . but it didn't even leave a temp file for me.

After crying for a while, I went home and reconstructed the missing pieces (probably to the betterment of the novel, in all honesty . . . but still). Now I'm paranoid. Now I'm not only saving my file to two separate locations - I'm also emailing it to myself for security.

On the bright side . . . I have a more exciting excerpt!

------------------------

The merchant girl shook her head. “I do not know the reasons you are truly here, no?” she said, “but I think it is to help us all – no matter what we believe, and I thank you.”

“I try,” Trev said, his lips twisting into a wry smile.

“My name is Melinda,” the girl said holding out her hand in the manner of a merchant sealing a deal, “and I am thinking that if you are in need of assistance, I owe you a great debt. If I hear anything of interest, I will be sure to relay it to you, no?”

Trev clasped her hand in his. “It is a great kindness,” he said, “though I can be difficult to find.”

Melinda looked over her shoulder at the honeybeer tent. “Is no problem. If you need to find me, simply ask at the honeybeer tent. The barkeep will know where I spread my blanket, no?” With a final half-bow, made awkward by the weight and shape of her rolled blanket, she vanished amidst the tents, the bright colors of her clothing and blanket swiftly becoming indistinguishable against the bright patchwork pattern of the Peiceland market.

Cassia stared at Trev with wonder. “You just stopped a riot,” she said softly. “With nothing but your words, you just stopped a disaster that could have ended with half the market in flames.”

Trev looked at her, startled.

“Do not think me a fool,” Cassia said acidly. “For even had you and I withheld from using our power, anger and alcohol have a way of ending in fire.”

“Then you finally understand what I am doing here” Trev asked, “and why I could not afford to spare even a day to see you safely to my school?”

“I do,” said Cassia, her expression filled with new respect. “And I want to help.”

Nano Nano Nano (Continued)

2008-11-04T22:05:00.000-08:00

My brain won't shut down. I wired it up with hot chocolate at 9:58 p.m. (I know, I know. But it seemed like a good idea to help me keep awake and get some writing done this evening. I just didn't consider the following six hours wherein I meant to oh . . . you know . . . sleep.) Otherwise, the novel is finally beginning to kick into gear. The first 10-15 pages are always the hardest for me - as I'm dusting off characters, trying to remember plot lines, and generally trying to crank the old writing engine into full gear while secretly I feel like I'm missing a few crucial parts that run the engine.

And thanks to M., I finally know where the Nano forum for Denver lives! HOORAY!!!!

I'm off to brush my teeth (I don't want to know what your mouth tastes like in the morning if your tongue still has chocolate fuzzies when you go to sleep) . . . and then I'm going to attempt to shut down all thought processes until tomorrow.

Nighty-night!

Nano Nano Nano 2009

2008-11-04T07:02:00.001-08:00

Ack! I'm already running behind, which is not a promising start. Then again, maybe I'm a stretch runner - lagging behind until the deadline - er goal - looms close, and then suddenly whipping myself into a type-o-matic frenzy. Fingers of fury dance over the keyboard, the sheer wave of power sending my Starbucks chai floating through the air, a small trail of heady foam suspended, Matrix-style . . . .

I just wasted roughly 50 words on this post . . . didn't I? ::grin::

Excerpt 1 for 2009: (Keep in mind I've only written six pages, so there were slim pickins' for an exciting excerpt)!

And a HUGE THANK YOU to all who are supporting me in my Nano Quest! Onwards to victory!!! This is the year I not only win Nano . . . but COMPLETE MY NOVEL!!!! (Free coffee will be appreciated well into December.)

Fenriod’s fury washed over Gwen in a wave of searing fire, so intense she almost thought her flesh should blister. His emotions battered against the glass wall, swelling like waves in a windstorm. But whatever form of control Fenriod had slammed into place held against the test of her impertinence.

Prince Naev stirred. “Please,” he said, his voice hoarse. “At the least, allow her to see. Enough damage has been done.”

Fenriod clenched both hands, but bowed his head in acquiescence. “As Naev wishes,” he said. “For I do not want to cause the Prince any further pain.”

Gwen stood and wiped the dirt from her gown. “Thank you,” she said. “You are gracious.”

“Grace and opportunity sometimes share the same bed.” Fenriod’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “And for all your passion in defending a horse, it may still be that the animal must be put down, out of kindness.”

Home of the Gourd Monster

2008-10-31T11:20:00.000-07:00

Our newest HR manager introduced the Halloween Gourd Contest to the office this year . . . As I took Halloween as a PTO day (the primary reason being the need to sleep at some point this weekend between all the Birthday and Halloween parties), I decided I had best participate in the gourd challenge. No one told me cutting a gourd was the equivalent to chiseling an arrow head from stone.

As I dutifully hacked at my gourd with the office knives (yes - our office has knives, which sounds scarier than it actually is), I quickly realized my original grandiose plans would never work. After ten minutes of patient slicing, hacking, and generally trying to keep my fingers out from under the blade, I managed to behead my gourd. I then scooped out the inside. . . and as I was looking at the stem and the goopy mass of innards and seeds, an idea bloomed.

I introduce you to the gourd monster!!!! FEAR HIM!!!!!

If you just said "Awww," the gourd monster's curse will take effect. HE IS NOT CUTE. He is fearsome . . . and . . . um . . . yeah. (I think it's the little mousy-ear seeds that deceive everybody.)

Memoirs of a Fox - Kanon AMV

2008-10-26T15:51:00.001-07:00

For those who are curious about Kanon (the latest anime I've been gushing about), here is a sample video that demonstrates how out-of-this-world BEAUTIFUL the animation (not to mention the story) is. Kanon centers around Yuuichi's return to a northern city after a seven year absence. As he tries to settle into every day life, he meets a flock of mysterious girls - including a fiery red-head named Makoto - who has a severe case of amnesia. Yuuichi does his best to support each girl in her individual battle. Some are won. Some are lost. But the overall theme is about the importance of friendship and support. Kindness given is kindness returned. I highly recommend it!

Mid-Life Crisis

2008-10-26T15:05:00.000-07:00

I don't think I've reached my mid-life crisis yet . . . but I may be getting close. I'm definitely beginning to feel the itch to make massive life changes, some of them necessary - some of them probably not. Slowly, but surely, I am reaching my goals.

I also feel it necessary to apologize for the last post. I had one of my rare moments of self doubt - wherein I decided nobody loves me, nobody wants to read what I write, and I might as well delete most of my rambling . . . leaving a rather ambiguous bare bones post. What can I say? We're all human (or I was the last I checked . . . I suppose nothing prevents the pod people from changing me out for a spore while I sleep).

That said . . . I've been making leaps and bounds in remembering who I am and what I like. If I sound like an amnesiac . . . I think most women will understand where I am coming from. I honestly think it is a gender-based trait that we tend to "lose" ourselves - in a job, in a relationship, caring for our children, etc. and have to periodically send out search parties. My "absence" has been necessary, but it is nearing time for it to be over! HOORAY!!! (I am reminded of a story a therapist shared with me at a brown bag lunch presentation. She had a client who "suddenly" left her husband of 30 years after she realized no one knew her first name. She was "so-and-so's mother" or "Mrs. Smith," or "so-and-so's sister." 30 YEARS!!!) Of course no one in her family understood - but I'm sure she left with a bullhorn and a backpack, ready to forge into the wilderness and find herself.

As for me - another National Novel Writer's Month approaches, and I am preparing to do battle with the final third of my story. This year, I am determined not only to win NanoWriMo - but to finish my novel - be it 50,000 words . . . or 150,000 words! I'm not stopping until the fat lady sings (or in my case, the Triad tears open the world and the oceans divide the continent . . . it's one heck of a finale, trust me)! Then I can finally rewrite the beginning and edit the puppy . . . followed by (HOPEFULLY) publication!

With my revival of self, I've also started percolating some new ideas . . . and I'm thinking of trying my hand at an anime series . . . the only thing holding me back is my inability to draw. I have a killer idea for a storyline - a story called "Angels" that I never seem to get out of my head and onto paper - wherein two Angels accidentally tear the soul out of a mortal girl, and have to deal with the Heavenly repercussions. So this Christmas I'm hoping for a few "How to Draw Manga" books. On the other hand, if you're an artist - or you know an artist - who would be interested in co-creating. . . by all means LET ME KNOW!!!!

With 5 days until Nano, my friends and family are preparing for my annual hermitude. Posts will probably be limited to excerpts from my novel . . . but you never know. As I'm finding the lost pieces of my soul, I'm finding surprising bursts of energy . . . so stay tuned!

Jaa mata! (See you later!)

Kindness

2008-10-19T15:23:00.000-07:00

Kindness. What happened to simple no-frills-attached kindess? With the Holidays approaching, I've been in a strange mental state - sort of a mix of nostalgia and melancholy with a good dose of bi-polar disorder thrown in. Things have been going well - I've just been seeing the world through some very strangely tinted glasses.

And then P. and I had a very interesting conversation as we car-pooled into work (YAY for the HOV!) - a conversation about simple kindness. And I realized that "kindness" is one of the major themes of anime - and may account for part of why I hold Japanese animation as a holy grail of animation types. Every series I can think of (okay - every series I enjoyed - because let's face it, anime is like country music - when it's bad . . . it's BAD) has had an element of kindness at its core. When the world goes to hell, it's the kindness that let's the characters wade through it.

T. and I have recently been watching a series called Kanon (Kah -n - own) (I have a heck of a time pronouncing the darn thing), which is a study in kindness. I watch the main character, and I think "What is wrong with people that we don't treat each other with that same level of kindness?" It is hard to imagine a world in which everyone is kind to each other - and the levels of crime, hate, and war don't taper off. I'm not saying that it would create a Utopia. But kindness works miracles.

Seriously.

Serenity - See Who I Am

2008-10-12T19:52:00.001-07:00

This clip will be of absolutely no interest to anyone who didn't follow Jos (or is it Joss?) Whedon's series Firefly. This is my shot at a music vid set to his series finale movie, which was titled "Serenity."

It's an odd hobby . . . but I'm beginning to think maybe I should try breaking into the movie preview/trailer/commercial biz. What do you think? (And remember: Friends don't let friends sing on American Idol!).

Bronco Obsession

2008-10-04T18:40:00.000-07:00

My parents are obsessed with football. More precisely, they are obsessed with the Broncos . . . although even college football will do in a pinch. My mother has finally reached her crowning achievement in life . . . which was walking up to John Elway and poking him in the ribs. For every birthday, Christmas, or other gift-giving event, whenever I ask what they would like, the response is similar to: "Oh, you know - anything Broncos."

Meet my problem . . .

What do you get someone who has the collector's plate series and wall plaques?

Not to mention pillows, wall hangings, and stained-glass lamps . . . . (the child is MINE! all MINE!!!).

Matching coffee table . . . and coasters . . .

Collector's trophy, signed miniature helmets, and official Bronco memorabilia display case (note the logo on the glass) . . .

Collector's figurines, John Elway statue, miniature stadium replica (Invesco) . . .

Pom poms, figurines, framed bronco pictures and stats, miniature football, miniature stadium (Mile High), over-size cup, and ice cream container (not a collector's item . . . to my knowledge, but they kept it anyway) . . .

Stadium picture, helmet-shaped snack dish, wooden football, orange paper decoration football, VHS collection of games and greatest moments, and miniature "tail-gate" truck (the silver rectangle to the right of the photo is the truck's grill) . . .

Pennant flags, bobble-head commentators, artist's sketch of John Elway as a child, Wheaties box (still containing Wheaties, to my knowledge) . . .

Post-its . . . Can't forget the post-its. And sports Illustrated poster.

Trash can . . .

Windsock. . .

Couch potato . . .

Not to mention the stuff my mom keeps at school (she's a 1st grade teacher) so she doesn't suffer separation anxiety while at work . . .

And (not pictured) - the watches, jerseys, sunglasses, umbrella, jackets, mouse pads, house key, wallet, checkbook cover, temporary tattoos (recently acquired for her birthday), car windshield cover, foam helmet, styrofoam bricks, potato sack, queen-sized sheet and comforter set . . . .

FOR THE LOVE OF CRIPE . . . WHAT'S LEFT??!!!!

Labor Day Camping (So I'm a Little Behind on the Ole Blog . . . )

2008-09-18T19:59:00.000-07:00

Most people choose to avoid camping on Labor Day weekend . . . especially since half of America tends to congregate into a few shared campgrounds. Fortunately, our friends AG and C. own a parcel of private land, and were kind enough to invite us along for some Labor Day relaxation. (Thank you again AG and C.!!!) Labor Day camping in an exotic location with NO PEOPLE? Count me in!!!!

To give a little background on our chosen activities . . . T. had just returned from taking the Standard at Tom Brown's Tracker School (I know . . . I know . . . ). For those who haven't heard me gushing about the Tracker School - it's a school that focuses on survival skills, including making fire, sanitizing water, creating rope, tanning hide, making animal traps, etc. It teaches awareness of your surroundings and respect for the land. And all of the activities increase self-confidence and encourage the use of your brain - on physical and spiritual levels.

Which explains why we spent a good deal of time carving sticks (throwing sticks, sticks to make fire, sticks to make traps, and just . . . sticks). While the boys did far more carving than I . . . my child managed to snap a photo of me trying my hand at carving a throwing stick out of Aspen. I never knew Aspen was so tough! (Note my stylish combination of cashmere sweater and anime T-shirt. Oh yeah.)

T. also demonstrated some of the basics of tracking . . . and it wasn't long before we found plenty of animal sign . . . including black bear tracks, mountain lion tracks, and a pile of scat that we're fairly certain belonged to the feline.

There were clearer bear tracks behind the outhouse, where the bear had obviously stood up on both hind legs to investigate the small building. Perhaps that answers the age old question: does a bear **** in the woods. I think we've definitely answered it for the Mountain Lion.

I also made sure to photograph some of the local wildflowers so A. and I can work on identifying them later. I'm planning on starting a camping journal - which will be a great way of keeping our memories and learning more about the places we visit!

I'm working on a brighter future for my children and my children's children. All in all, I don't think I'm off to a bad start!

Bird Porn

2008-09-03T21:35:00.000-07:00

DNC week (Democratic National Convention . . . for those who are slightly less politically astute than me . . . which means you live in a cave as a hermit and have never heard of the Republican or Democratic parties).

But I digress. DNC week. the week where a diverse group of protesters converged on the 16th Street Mall in Denver, Colorado to hand out little flyers and encourage others to see things from their point of view.

Of all the issues that failed to make it to a candidate's platform . . . .

The Pilgrimage to the DNC

2008-09-03T21:17:00.000-07:00

Don't get me wrong. I am truly grateful to have been given the opportunity to attend the DNC, and even if I knew that I would have to repeat every step, exactly as it was, in order to attend again . . . I would, in a heartbeat!

Having said that . . . the line . . . the line . . . When we got to the parking lot at Invesco, it looked like this (and keep in mind, we walked from near the Qwest building to Invesco, which is no small hike in and of itself):

After two more hours of standing in the sun with no water, no trash, and no lavatory, it looked like this:

The general good cheer had dampened into a "good-cheer-as-long-as-you-don't-cut-in-front-of-me-or-I'll-take-you-down-and-search-your-body-for-water-because-dang . . . -I'm-thirsty" mood. At this point, my small group noticed one of the attorneys from our office who was just joining the crowd, and we quietly absorbed her into our small group and hoped no one noticed. It helped that she offered to drop by Burger King and do a milkshake and fry run. As more folks trickled in and tried to join the perimeter, we waived them towards the milling mass of humanity.

Us: The end of the line is in the middle of the parking lot.
Newcomers: (After surveying the line and forestalling a heart attack.) Um . . . WHERE is the end of the line?
Us: Beats the heck out of us. Wade on in!

The best part came when we finally crested the hill and discovered . . . ANOTHER PARKING LOT. Fortunately, the Denver Police Department stepped in at some point and began directing folks, so once you broke free from the milling mass of humanity the second parking lot was a winding snake pattern that you literally took at a jog.

Sadly, I have no pictures of this portion . . . since we were jogging. My favorite part was a row of 20 pristine Port-o-Potties that were safely locked behind a gate so you could see them . . . but not get to them. Then the line wound through a few back alleys, came out on Colfax, wound down an overpass, back up an overpass, back towards Invesco, and finally into a THIRD PARKING LOT. The next day, T. said he saw on the news that the line had reached 6 miles. Other folks think he's exaggerating. I don't. I WALKED THE DARN THING!!!!

And inside Invesco was an even larger mass of humanity!

We surprised the guards by letting out great whoops of joy when we cleared security (but hey! We'd been in the sun from 2:00 to 6:30 . . . we were a little punch happy) - and that was NOTHING compared to the celebration when we found our seats. Apparently the ushers/security folks had given up a few hours prior, and "club reserved" seats actually translated to "general admission to any row on your level.

We made it in time to rock out to music by Stevie Wonder, followed by a speech from Al Gore (pictured on the Mile High scoreboard above). Then I accompanied one of our group on a food run . . . which was amusing in and of itself. The conversation went something like this:

Me: Do you have nachos?
Vendor: Nope. We ran out.
Me: Bottled water?
Vendor: Nope. We ran out.
Me: Pizza?
Vendor: Cheese only. No pepperoni.
Me: Great! Give me two. And two drinks - whatever you have left.
Kitchen Helper: (Shouting from the back.) Be careful how many pizzas you sell. We've only got eight left.

But all glitches aside, I was amazed at the quality of all the speakers, and I am honored to have been present at such a historic event. Barack Obama's speech was well crafted and well delivered - amidst the thunder of stamping feet and a sea of waving flags (see my 30 second DNC clip for a taste of what that was like!) I even waved a flag. It was a lote more fun than I anticipated.

So here's a tribute to history - and to politics - and to good friends who made the alternating waiting and mad rushes bearable!!! Here we are . . . hot, tired, and terribly excited. We're a pretty good looking bunch, don't you think?

WOOT!!!!

30 Second DNC Clip

2008-08-30T06:00:00.001-07:00

In case you were wondering what it was like inside the DNC . . . nah . . . this doesn't come close to capturing the feeling, but it's the best I can do!!!

DNC!!! I Was There!!!

2008-08-29T21:43:00.000-07:00

Can you believe it? I was there!!!! After a 3 and a half-hour wait and walking . . . running . . . walking . . . (in that order) six miles, I was at Invesco field and experiencing the Democratic National Convention in person!!! What an amazing event!

Me with 85,000 other people. The triumph of the night . . . WE GOT TO OUR SEATS! Just kidding!!! We did get to our seats . . . eventually . . . but the main event was obviously the speakers, and every one of them did an amazing job. I saw Al Gore and Barack Obama. I missed Biden (he came on while I was on a food run) - but I'm still looking for his speech on YouTube. I saw Stevie Wonder perform. What a night!!!

More will be forthcoming once I return from camping. For now . . . me! Fuzzy me . . . but me! With 85,000 other people. WOOT!!!! If you look really close at the Bronco you can see the two snipers (maybe security guards . . . but I'm guessing sniper) that stood to either side of the white horse.

Critical Mass

2008-08-18T19:58:00.000-07:00

I haven't been blogging, so you may have guessed . . .

Ta DAA!!! Another You Tube video. (Some people eat when they're stressed. I splice film. It keeps me thin :P.)

What to say about Ayashi no Ceres? Imagine that you have a split personality. Imagine that both of your "selves" are in love with two different boys (who, surprisingly, don't like each other). And imagine that one side of you is blessed with celestial power, incredibly dangerous, and incredibly ticked off. Did I mention the reincarnation? There is a nice twist with the reincarnation. In all the great love stories, lovers reincarnate again and again . . . but what if it became more a curse than a blessing? (The astute will notice the video starts off with Ceres asking Aya - are you sure you're ready for love? And ends with Aya asking Ceres - are you sure your ready for love?)

FOOM!

Making this video helped me survive one of the most stressful weeks in my entire life. Work was stressful. Home was stressful. The weather was stressful (seriously - we had sever thunder and lightning storms for a week straight - and I was getting awful tired of waking up at 3:00 a.m. to a thunder concussion that shook the house).

I don't do well on sleep deprivation. Trust me. I do things like make videos about homicidal angels. Hope you enjoy!

Ayashi no Ceres Ready for Love

2008-08-18T19:32:00.001-07:00

What Happens to the Memories?

2008-08-11T20:52:00.001-07:00

What happens to the Friends
who have dwindled?
The faces that time made soft -
blurred into faded photographs?

I wonder who they are.
And where - maybe what
they are doing.

Within the dark places,
the recesses within where we all remain,
patient children. The me that was -
hums - alone in a corner. Her fingers,
draw across the floor, gathering shadows.

She wonders if they would recognize her.
The people who once were, but now
are not.

Are they still a friend, if they don't remember?
Or have they become strangers,
who nod politely, preoccupied.
Focused, as they cross the street.
The spark of recognition, like the light,
Changes.

But the face they expect to see,
the me they are looking for,
has gone.
A memory is a brittle thing,
fading into the pieces of things
as they are now.

Though I raise my hand,
though I wear a bright scarf. . .

They do not see me.

The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns

2008-08-07T21:13:00.000-07:00

I despised The Kite Runner, so don't ask me why I let a friend talk me into reading the author's second book . . . A Thousand Splendid Suns. I must admit that I am writing this post before completely finishing the novel (I have roughly 20 pages left) - but it has left me in a reflective and somber mood.

Funny . . . that was my horoscope for the day. Reflective and somber.

I just don't see the hope in these books. I see fleeting glimpses of it . . . but it's hidden amongst so much tragedy and pain that you wonder if the light makes up for the darkness. Reading his novels is like opening the newspaper and reading about real life . . . the wars, the bombs, the kids who get legs amputated trying to cross over into America. And then they throw you a bone of hope, if only to keep you from throwing yourself off a building. It's not even a happy ending . . . it's something small, and cheap - and they try to play it up, as though it fixes everything. "Timmy lost both legs, but a kind business has agreed to pay for his artificial limbs if he signs a contract saying he will allow them to use both legs for trademark advertising." Insert a picture of the kid sitting in bed, looking sullen.

Where is the fighting spirit? Where are those kids who refuse to let the world hold them down? Who lose their legs and inspire others with their sunny disposition and refusal to let tragedy rule their lives?

I'm not arguing that the author of these books can't write. In fact, he has a beautiful sense of prose . . . I just feel that his stories pander more to the audience who find themselves moved by little Timmy, instead of the eight-year-old kid who had his leg amputated by a train (this is a true story, by the way) - tied his own tourniquet - and limped home to his mother to tell her she was right that he shouldn't have played by the tracks, and he was now more determined than ever to play sports.

The first story is tragedy, throwing you a bone of hope to soothe your soul, and make you feel that the world is not entirely covered in darkness. The second is a story built on tragedy, but the tragedy is a side note, the focus is on the child and his shining spirit.

Maybe its a moot distinction - but for me, it is clear. I guess that comes with the gift of seeing everything in shades of gray instead of black and white. Sometimes, I see more than I want to.
Meh. I shouldn't blog when I'm somber and reflective. Reflectively somber. Somberly reflective?

Then again, as one of my other friends said:
Her: "Why are you reading that?"
Me: "A friend asked me to."
Her: "Did she read The Kite Runner?"
Me: "Yep."
Her: "Did she like The Kite Runner?"
Me: "Yep."
Her: "And you LISTENED to her?"

She has a point. She does, indeedy, have a point.

Motivation

2008-08-04T19:32:00.000-07:00

I've finally decided a need a novelling intervention . . . not to keep me from my habit - but to force me to sit down and finish the darn thing! I just spent six months procrastinating and NOT writing a scene where a man had to fall off a horse. That's it. A simple tumble from a running equine. I know the characters. I know the events. I just never seem to get the time to sit down and . . . and . . . write!!!

So we examine the motivation factor.

First, I think I'm going to select someone to read my novel. I think I need someone to bounce ideas off of . . . someone who can bug me about plot-lines and tell me which character they want to know more about. (A note to all of the little voices in my head . . . none of you qualify for this job . . . so stop volunteering.)

And secondly, I may start posting a paragraph here and there again, just to keep tabs on my progress.

------------------------------

The Lord Nicat gave a long suffering sigh, rolling his eyes at Lord Favre. “I told you take Brandywine,” he chided.

“And attract no attention?” Lord Favre replied acidly.

“And attract less than will be attracted, when the gray unseats you,” corrected Lord Nicat. “You continually fail to grasp that the kind of attention is as important as the amount.”

The Ladies Arisa and Brianna laughed, while Lady Danyieve looked thoughtful.

“I will vouch for that advice,” Gwen said. “I’ve done nothing since I got here aside from attract the wrong kind of attention.”

“You have caused quite the stir,” the Lady Brianna confirmed. “Especially after the row with Master Lefyre. I should be most interested in hearing the details of that particular affair.”

“And I am sure the Lady Genevive would be most interested in not having to relate such an embarrassing tale,” said Lady Arisa, her black eyes sparkling.

Gwen laughed. “I made my own bed,” she said easily. “So I have some obligation to answer if people ask about the wrinkles.”

My On-going Involuntary Relationship

2008-08-02T07:41:00.000-07:00

Spiders. They love me. The follow me. They build their webs in my car and plague my house. But this week, one of them crossed the line . . . he was in my TOASTER OVEN!!! No, he didn't survive the experience . . . . actually, I'm not quite sure how long he was there, poor little critter, crispied among the other blackened toast crumbs. He was definitely there long enough to be deep fried. And toasted spiders are probably a delicacy somewhere in the world.

At least he wasn't explodey . . . but I repeat, in my TOASTER OVEN!!!

I think the worst part was that A. noticed him while we were cooking toast . . . which meant the toaster was too hot to clean . . . so I had to let fried spidey cool while I went to work . . . . blergh.

On a similarly humorous side, I managed to slice my thumb on a staple at work - trust me, it was an impressive job on a standard-sized staple. T., A., and I have been watching a Japanese animation called Naruto (EXCELLENT - highly recommended), in which the main characters are ninja and sometimes summon other critters by biting their thumb to draw blood and then slamming their hand onto a surface and yelling "Summoning Jutsu!" Needless to say, I tried. (Okay. . . not really - they frown on getting blood on your paperwork.)

I did call T. at work and tell him. He laughed and told me that with my luck, I'd summon an eight foot spider, and be forced to run around the office screaming.

He's right you know.

Stupid spiders.

Bleh

2008-07-31T21:23:00.000-07:00

Have you ever had one of those days where the world was moving Mach 7 . . . and you have the equipment to keep up, but the mechanic dropped a wrench in your engine early on and now, even though the components are held together with bubble-gum and duct tape, it keeps making this weird rattling cough sound when you get close to Mach 5?

Yeah . . . um. Yeah.

A Momentous Occasion . . . I Finally Visited the Tattered Cover

2008-07-24T05:18:00.000-07:00

When we have children, sometimes we tend to box up our lives (literally and figuratively), and place things in a closet for a few years, while 90% of your attention is taken by a little voice saying "Mommy, mommy . . . look! Look! Mommy." To which the usual response is something like "I see, Peanut. Wow! You can jump over your shoes. I bet no other child in the history of mankind has learned how to jump over their shoes." Okay . . . maybe I'm a little heavy on the sarcasm. On the other hand, my child will grow up understanding sarcasm.

Back to the boxing metaphor. . . After a few years, you open the closet doors and see all of these boxes covered with dust and these boxes become windows into your past life (because trust me: pre-child and post-child will give reincarnation a run for its money any day). For me, many of those boxes contain books. And the hours and hours of reading time that I never had to spend . . . until now.

Thirty years, and I've never visited one of the most famous bookstores (if not THE famous bookstore) in Denver . . . until yesterday.

And it was like blowing the dust off a very important box, and opening it to find a lot of fond memories. And no . . . the Tattered Cover does not smell like mothballs and dust . . . I'm pretty sure most of that was in my head. But the point is, I spent HOURS wandering around looking at any section that caught my fancy, and pulling a few select books off the shelves. I spent an additional hour curled up in an armchair and reading . . . uninterrupted even . . . reading! The armchairs was located next to a bright window, and muted sunlight (it was cloudy yesterday) spilled through the glass and onto the book, lighting it perfectly (yes, armchair positions matter - that's how I knew these people UNDERSTAND what makes a good reading nook) . . .

and I think I found a piece of myself that's been locked in a box for four years. I felt a restoration. I found a peace I've been missing (or would it be a "piece" I've been missing)?

Either way, the Tattered Cover was awesome!

Celtic Fushigi - Spoof 1 - At the Ceili

2008-07-17T21:34:00.001-07:00

It's sad how many hours this took to complete . . . and most of them between 10:00 p.m. and 1:00 in the morning! It won't be nearly as amusing to folks who haven't seen the series . . . but locating enough clips for five minutes of fun (out of SEVENTEEN hours of footage) was much harder than I expected!!!!

Ah well. Breaking loose with Fushigi. Or breaking Fushigi. Take your pick.

Overmedicated Canine

2008-07-08T22:08:00.001-07:00

I didn't think it was possible, but my dog has found all new ways to gross me out.

Okay . . . so this really wasn't her fault . . . . Most of the Fourth of July weekend was wonderful. Lots of food, lots of friends, lots of friends who bought new grilling equipment on which to cook the food . . . the usual. Then, on Sunday, I finally decided it was time to give the dog a dose of attention, especially since she's been blowing her winter coat in large chunks all over the house (for those who don't own long-haired poochies, when the warm weather hits, the dogs ditch their undercoat . . . imagine a sheep that sheds, and you'll know what it looks like). I've been meaning to deep clean the floors in my house, but until I groomed the dog, what was the point?

After a quick bath, I encouraged Tika to lay down while I used a brush to remove her undercoat. Ever obliging, she rolled over . . . and much to my horror, their was a TICK hanging on her breastbone.

I don't think you can get away with living in Colorado without a basic knowledge of how to remove a tick, but this was my first up close and personal encounter with one . . . and THEY ARE THE MOST DISGUSTING CRITTERS I HAVE EVER RUN INTO. Needless to say, I made T. deal with pulling them out. If I were home alone, I probably would have taken her to the vet (and I've never considered myself the faint of heart . . . ). The good news is, I think we caught them before they dropped off to lay eggs (yes . . . my skin still itches when I say that).

For all those folks who have never had to deal with a tick, they plunge their heads into the skin and suck blood . . . so when you pull them off, you have to make sure to get the head or the wound can fester. This is much easier if the tick is willing to cooperate. One way to tell if you got the head is to see if the tick is still alive once you pull it. The first tick had gorged herself on blood and was five times her normal size. ICKY ICKY ICKY . . . but T. did a great job of removing her, head intact, by the simple expedient of removing a chunk of Tika's skin along with the tick (poor poochie - but no regrets here!). For the second tick, we touched its butt with heated tweezers . . .and it pulled out of Tika's skin and bolted as fast as its six little legs could carry it . . . to the soundtrack of me saying "Get it, get it, get it, AAAAHHHHHHHHHH."

T. took both ticks outside and crushed them . . . which I later discovered is the absolute WORST way to dispose of a tick. After the crisis was over, T. and I did some research on the internet . . . and as my public service announcement of the year, please note the following:

There is a new EASY way to remove ticks that replaces the old method of using tweezers. You don't want to touch a tick (since they can bite and they carry diseases) . . . so the best way to remove a tick is to saturate a cotton ball with liquid dishwashing soap (Dawn, Joy, etc.) and hold it over the tick. For some reason, this makes it so the tick can't breathe. It will back itself out of your poochie's skin and into the soap . . . which also means it can't make a mad dash for freedom like our second blood-sucking freeloader did. (Not that it helped. T. still managed to take it out back and smoosh it.) If you are wiser than we were and use the cotton ball, the tick will remain safely entangled in the soap/cotton ball, and you can either drown it in alcohol or flush it down the toilet. Crushing the tick is not recommended as it can spread the diseases they carry (especially if any tick contents get on you or your animals).

And now that I'm done scientifically discussing it . . . AAAAAHHHHHHHH. ICK! ICK! ULTIMATE GROSSNESS.

Needless to say, I called my vet - and on their advice, I dosed Tika with Cortaid (for the itching) and Advantix tick repellant. Which led to a rather unique problem . . . Tika's belly and chest were slimy with Cortaid, and her back from the nape of her neck to her butt stump (she's an aussie . . . no tail), was dosed with Advantix - which comes in a lovely liquid form that is easily absorbed by their skin (and yours, if you're not careful!)

Needless to say, her pets last night consisted entirely of one finger stroking her forehead . . . because I wasn't about to touch any other part of her. BLECH!!!!

It's Not Always About You . . .

2008-07-07T20:23:00.001-07:00

A piece of coffee shop wisdom. . .

A friend and I were discussing the theories behind The Secret (for those who haven't read the book, it centers on the law of attraction: i.e., if you think good thoughts, good things happen. If you think bad thoughts, bad things happen.) To an extent, I agree this is true.

But we've all had the perfect day . . . the day when the sun was shining, the birds were singing, traffic was light, and Life was zooming along at 90 miles an hour when suddenly the Universe kicks you in the teeth . . . HARD.

This has always been my issue with The Secret. It didn't seem to account for the things outside your control . . . the (for lack of a better word) STUFF that Life throws at you. But I think my friend W. has it right.

It's not always about you.

That's right, boys and girls, (and transexual, heterosexual, hermaphrodite, and undecided . . . don't you wonder what addressing a crowd will be like in the next 400 years :P :P :P) . . .

It's not always about you.

Maybe the secret to The Secret is that the Universe occasionally borrows your Life to create the situation in someone else's. To illustrate the point . . .

My friend W. was having a perfect day when she was in a fairly severe car wreck. Someone rear-ended her van, on the FREEWAY, doing a minimum of 75. Talk about a dent you can't hammer out . . .

She told me that for weeks she thought about why the car wreck had happened. She knew she hadn't been zooming down the freeway thinking "Wow! I really hope someone rear-ends me! You know what would make my day? A high-speed collision . . . WHEEE!!!!"

And then one day, it hit her.

It's not always about you.

The car in front of her was a Geo with three kids in the back. If her van hadn't been there, most certainly one . . . if not all three . . . probably would have died.

Every once in a while I get a blinding flash of light when I hear a story. An epiphany that gives me goosebumps. This made that feeling look like a Polaroid flash in a lightning storm.

As a sidenote, the van was still drivable, and she now has a custom bumper sticker that reads "I brake for tailgaters." Oddly enough, NO ONE tailgates her.

So in a way, the car wreck has a happy ending for everyone. Think about that one for a while. :P :P :P

Evolution of a Garden 2

2008-07-02T22:21:00.000-07:00

This evening marks the first time I took a book and sat in my GARDEN after work in order to relax! Yes, my GARDEN. Not the-place-that-fosters-countless-WEEDS! I'm so proud of what I accomplished this year - so even though I've said it before, I'm saying it again. I LOVE MY GARDEN!!!

BEFORE...........

AFTER...............

Come to Colorado . . .

2008-06-25T22:06:00.001-07:00

This one is for my friend B. Come to Colorado . . . where Life is Beautiful and some photographers accuse us of airbrushing the skies . . . (they really are this blue)!

And for those family members not in close proximity . . . look how much he's grown! (No, he's not going bald . . . we shaved his head for summer . . . and his hair is such a light shade of blond, you can't even see it!)

Beauty Is In The Eye . . . Nah . . . This Was Just Darn Beautiful

2008-06-25T21:40:00.001-07:00

Let's see . . . update in the life of Andrea Peach . . . complete with the funny quips and evocative writing you've all come to love.

Not happening.

I've promised multiple individuals that I would get this post up and running . . . so, for now, you'll have to settle for the summary.

We packed up the family and went to Eleven Mile to camp. Most of Eleven Mile is flat plains with gentle rolling hills. Most folks drive their campers right up to the lakeside - after all, Eleven Mile is known for its fishing.

Then there are those of us who know about their "back-country" camping.

You park the car at the base of the hill, and then trek in 3/4 mile to the campsites. Did I mention bears? Definitely bear country . . . so if you go, expect to make the trek to your car several times a day - as leaving any food stuffs in your camp (including toothpaste and fishing bait) is not the wisest of all choices. Then again, neither is building a fire under the rain-fly on your tent . . . but hey, who were we to get in the way of Darwinsim in action?!

But is it worth it, you ask?

Oh, yes. Yes, it is.

I hereby title this one: "The Lonely Tree"

We are finally the proud owners of a tent that fits three (okay . . . two and a half, all our gear, and one messy poochie) instead of the cavernous circus tent of camping trips past.

Camp, sweet camp. The white dot under the picnic table is Tika's little white face. Dogs must be kept on a leash at all times, and Tika kept winding herself around the picnic table until she couldn't move. I never claimed to own the brightest boo in the box.

Here I am on day three . . . tired, sticky, coated in bug spray, and wondering if everyone looks this dorky when they camp.

But, look. If there is anything in the world that can trivialize three days without a shower and justify the stench of bug spray . . . this would be it.

Kenshin - Hand of Sorrow

2008-06-19T17:45:00.001-07:00

Not only was this vid a pain to make . . . it's stubborn about being posted to my blog. I will never again make fun of anyone who has tried to make a vid of Rurouni Kenshin. Though I must say - just as I learned more about the English language by studying Japanese, I gained an entirely new appreciation for the animator's use of symbols and color. ENJOY!

And Now For Something Completely Different . . .

2008-06-18T22:08:00.000-07:00

At long last, I am ready to take a break from anime vid making and carry on with . . . well . . . all the other details of Life I've been ignoring.

What?! Like you've never bought a shiny new toy and spent a few months playing with all the buttons?

Miaka/Yui - I'll Find You Somewhere

2008-06-05T06:17:00.001-07:00

WOOT! My second try at a YouTube video. This one is a lot smoother than the other - I figured out transitions and a few other little tricks. I also discovered doing slow songs is HARD! Enjoy.

Who Said the Museum Was Boring?

2008-06-04T21:09:00.001-07:00

Last weekend we took A. to the Denver Museum of Nature and Science to see the latest exhibit "Gold," which - given that I grew up in Breckenridge and my father not only taught me how to pan for gold, but actually built a working sluice in our backyard - meant that most of the information was "old hat" to me. I imagine it would have been far more interesting if I had time to read any of the informational plaques . . . but as it was, I spent most of the time chasing A. around and telling him not to touch the large shiny exhibits.

We also discovered that they dismantled the health and body exhibits and put them in "Discovery Zone," which is essentially a play room for the little ones. Great for learning - yet slightly disturbing to find the life-size plastic mold of an upper torso with removable organs laying next to the bubble blowing station (not to mention brains in a jar).

Ah well. In the name of science.

On the other hand, the Museum has an incredible array of animal exhibits. They remind me of the tiny panorama boxes we had to make as kids in elementary school - only these are a hundred times bigger and a thousand times cooler. The painter they hired to do the backgrounds caught the trick of making your eye track to the horizon. When you stand in front of any of these exhibits, you feel like you are looking off the top of a mountain. There is also one exhibit of a manatee that looks just like an underwater aquarium. It even has the shafts of sunlight coming from the top and rippling on the manatee's skin!

Needless to say - I had to take pictures.

Few people seem to know that the painter had a sense of humor, and hid gnomes in many of the paintings. We met one couple near the moose exhibit who were on a diligent gnome hunt . . . a great diversion for both adults and kids. If you ever visit - don't be shy about asking museum personnel for a list of hints!

In the meantime, check out these amazing exhibits! Yes, these are actual stuffed animals! (All donated and died of natural causes according to the Museum . . .)

Stand My Ground - Amiboshi

2008-05-26T09:08:00.001-07:00

And the other reason I haven't blogged in forever . . . I finally figured out how to make a YouTube video. MU HA HA HA!!! Yes, this does mean my friends may occasionally need to disengage my fingers from the keyboard and drag me outside (kicking, screaming, gibbering - the whole works) for sunlight.

For anyone who has not seen Fushigi, this has major SPOILERS - so you may not want to watch (or read) any further. You can scroll down and look at the pretty pictures of my garden instead.

For everyone else, this video is my answer to T.'s question "Why do you like that guy so much?" Answer: Because he's AWESOME. Amiboshi has one of the hardest choices in all of Fushigi. He is caught in the ultimate soldier's dilemma: what happens when you realize you're fighting for the wrong side?

Nakago told Amiboshi that Miaka and the Suzaku Seven meant to destroy Amiboshi's country - to murder his friends, his family, and his way of life. A good soldier, Amiboshi carries out his orders and attempts to execute Miaka and her comrades. But in the end, he realizes Nakago lied to him, and to make amends he accepts his own death (plunging into the river), which evens the playing board and gives the Suzaku Seven their only, slim, chance at victory. But fate is never kind, and Amiboshi fails to drown, so he goes into hiding. And when the war finally catches up to him again, he helps Miaka, who feels she is a traitor to everyone she ever loved, understand that sometimes you have to make hard choices. And sometimes you have to face up to them. And sometimes . . . just sometimes . . . you have to stand your ground and defend what you know is right.

How could you not respect him?

Yes. I am a dork (and a hopeless romantic to boot). ENJOY!

Results

2008-05-26T08:20:00.000-07:00

Three days and 3/4 a ton of gravel later (and a HUGE thank you to my friend S., who was kind enough to take the excess gravel :P :P :P), I have a beautiful back yard. For the first time in years, I can open the back door and let A. go blow bubbles . . . or the cats wander among the rose bushes, and I don't have to worry about nineteen safety hazards that are finally well and truly FIXED. To illustrate my journey:

The before picture.
Note: everything green (except the rose bushes climbing the trellis) is a dandelion.

The journey.
Note: A. got the camera. I take no responsibility for this part.

The end result.

It's lovely. Absolutely lovely. A few of my friends have asked whether I'm worried about the cats clearing the 8' fence. . . . The answer is a resounding no. Why? My kitties are not the brightest boos in the box. Hime (the siamese) can't clear a 3' baby-gate, let alone an 8' fence.

And someday, years from now, a future owner will be standing in the kitchen door, wondering how in the heck I got all t hat gravel back there.

In buckets. Two shovel fulls at a time. :P :P :P

Dandelion Dusting

2008-05-09T20:34:00.000-07:00

I spent four hours weeding dandelions. Four hours. And my yard is all of 8' by 12'. Heck, if I let them grow a little longer (so they filled in the patchy parts) I could have had a new ground cover. As it is, I am the proud owner of a newly made dirt-pit.

Seriously. I'm proud. I've never been much of a "do-it-yourself-er" (yes, I'm make that a word) - but I am always gratified to discover how much I can do myself. I completely revamped my backyard, made plans to add stone flowerbeds (which will help A. keep from putting his hand through the wood slats and being savaged by the insane Jack Russell Terror next door), dusted enough dandelions to fill a 13 gallon trash bag, and made several trips to Home Depot for items such as gardening gloves and orange twine.

Nothing says gardening competence like orange twine.

Okay . . . so I only half-assed know what I'm doing. But the point is . . . I'm DOING IT!

Hopefully I'll be able to post before and after pictures soon . . . unfortunately, Snapfire has decided it wants to play in a separate part of the sandbox than Vista. It's on my to-do list.

Today was planning and weeding. Tomorrow, let the construction begin! Wish me luck!

The Internal Crane

2008-04-27T07:45:00.000-07:00

It begins as a cut that doesn't bleed.
A tiny hole. A planted seed.
A prick that over time becomes,
a mortal wound - a salve that numbs.

And deep inside, where none can see,
the seed becomes a branching tree.
Beneath its roots, a slender bird
whose folded wings have never stirred.

It shelters in the gentle swell,
where spirit and emotion dwell.
Bones of sorrow, wrapped in light,
beneath the roots, it dreams of flight.

A piece of soul and tender heart,
that cannot be pierced, nor torn apart.
If the wound is deep, the crane awakes -
on the searing edge of hurt, escapes.

You cannot say you have not felt -
the snapping whip, the rising welt;
Numbing cold, waves of pain.
The sweeping flight of the internal crane.

What's the Weather . . . What's the Weather . . . What's the Weather Like Today?

2008-03-31T20:13:00.000-07:00

A. is learning all about day, night, and the weather in preschool. On the way to school today, he announced that it was going to be sunny, cloudy, and snowy ALL AT ONCE.

I think A. may have a lucrative future as a weatherman. And really . . . this could only happen in Colorado. The ground is wet because it was SNOWING less than five minutes before the photograph. ::singing:: Then up came the sun and washed the spider out . . . oop . . . wrong lesson.

Some other fun weather photographs that prove once and for all that localized weather in Colorado means "what's the weather on your block? Really? It's sunny here."

It's cloudy:

It's sunny:

It's sunny-cloudy:

And now for something completely different . . . I'm skinny . . . BUT I'M NOT THAT SKINNY!