Tuesday, September 22, 2015


I'm in Southwest Florida at the moment.  Florida is an odd state to me.  It's a love/hate thing.  One moment, I'm enchanted and awed by its beauty, the next I'm growling at the biting bugs and driving habits.  Even still, I find myself with my head in the clouds.  Or.... more so.... my writing projects.  They all seem to come flooding to me and I can only surrender and let the scenes play out.  It's wonderful after practices and prompts to try to get the writing to come.  Here's hoping I am amble to progress a story in some way.  Now it they'd talk to me one at a time.

Visiting family is what brought me here.  Well, my parents' anniversary (they always go on a trip) and a want to get out of sight for a time.  But I'm here, and any plans I tried to make melted away, and expectations have been puzzling.

Two days have now been spent out in the bay.  I shouldn't complain.  I cannot describe the peace of puttering around in a boat and taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the gulf.  The ocean has always held my attention.  I can sit on a beach all day.  I don't have to necessarily be doing anything.  Just being still and watching the waves and tides turn and I'm in my own world.

The boat is a new experience for me.  The family has a gone in together and got a pontoon boat.  She's lovely.  She can be a bit of a handful if you slack off and quit paying attention.  Still, I can see the attraction.  Today was the greatest so far.  While I was showing my mom a few tricks to the fish finder, several larger objects appeared on the screen.  We were drifting at the time, pretty much feeding shrimp to fish one at a time.  We studied the objects.  They were unlike anything I'd seen before.  I called my aunt over, but she had just caught a fish and was busy with that.  So Mom and I watched the screen and wondered at the blobs below.  Within a few moments, four manatee surfaced in front of the boat.  They were gorgeous.  I love manatees and have never seen them in the wild.  I've always looked for them, but they seem to be rather shy.  These four acted as if we didn't exist.  My eyes were glued to them while they rolled and bobbed.  They moved on, of course, and I was still watching in their direction for some time.  We moved to another spot to try for some different fish and kept handing out shrimp.  We did see eagles, bald eagles, and watched as they plucked fish from the waves.  Dolphins jumped and played with their eternal merriment.  Sea turtles inspected us.  Gulls and pelicans and osprey and all sorts of birds kept us company.  Beautiful weather.  Beautiful creations.

After stepping back on dry land, my mind again went off on its own.  The tide was changing.  The rhythm of the elements changed with it.  Oyster beds poked out of the soft waves.  Long legged birds moved to deeper waters.  Barnacle caked rocks and pikes glistened in the sunlight.

The push and pull of the tide wins me over every time.  It's a simple thing, yet grand.  There is nothing one can do to keep the tide in close.  The salty water and sand slips through your fingers without effort and rejoin the mighty body that shifts away, seemingly to take a break from the busy shore. It'll return, and right when it means to.  There again, what can one do to alter it?  Why would one try?

It makes me realize where I employ my efforts and set my hopes.  I can only bring so much of it into what I want it to be.  The majority, the big picture, is the tide.  One has to learn its times and work with the rhythm to aim to accomplish their plans.  Some will get away no matter how hard you hold to them.  Others seem to come to rest at your feet and wait for you to notice.  There is always movement.  Where do you let your attention settle on?  What do you find?

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

The Death of a Novel

I know everyone has their own breaking points.  Maybe this is the bump just before the break.  Whatever it is, I quit.  On one, anyway.  Certain things that are not progressing in my life tell me to let this one go.  More will probably follow, but I can't say for sure.  It's been a pain to keep this manuscript alive.  Now, with a lopsided headache and shaking hands, I expel the pieces to the bottom of the drawer.

It will be out of sight for a time.  As days go by, perhaps I can make myself delete the fragmented tale.  The thing about stories ... you can pull the plug and let it die in your mind, but you don't have to arrange a memorial for it.  No one else knew it existed.  No one else knew the characters.  No one else knew the role.  Someone may have seen little shadows of it in passing, but not enough to miss in its absence. 

A part of me believes that to be sad.  Even still, I have to question ... is sadness an opinion or a fact?  It can be venomous and debilitating.  It feels everlasting.  But once you step away from one adventure, there is another waiting to erupt around you.  There always will be.  I have found this to be true as a quitter of many things.

No, it's not encouraging or anything I am proud of.  Yet, it has happened before and will undoubtedly happen again.  A hope evolves into a farce.  Recognize the waste of time and energy, acknowledge your losses, then go your way.  If you stand beside the wreckage too long, you will also begin to succumb into ruin. 

I do not see myself in any of my writings, but I feel something die within me when one fails to breathe. 

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Bring on the Madness

Not really.  I'd like to avoid as much crazy as possible.  This week, and probably the one to follow, will be full of it.  There is a wedding this weekend.  I'm not the planner for this one, just did part of the planning and am now with the group that will decorate the reception hall.  So a load of flowers is supposed to arrive later this week.  I'm going to have to find a way to store them and protect them from my flower-loving cats.  There will we house guests, but that's no biggie.  And the bachelor party will be here.  I'll probably be hiding with the flowers.  Saturday is the wedding, and unless I can pull off some magic tomorrow, I will have exactly one hour to set up the reception hall with one other person ... whom is on crutches.  But no worries.  It's gonna work out.  No choice.

And we have another cat.  I went to the shelter to pick one up that I've been watching online.  She was adopted out before I got there, so I wasn't needed.  Besides, we really didn't need another cat, I was just worried because she had been in the shelter for a long time and I was afraid she was running out of time and might get put to sleep.  Awesome sauce to the people who adopted her.  Then, Saturday morning, someone dumped a kitten in front of our house.  Little baby calico.  Unique coloring.  So we brought her in and fed her, took her to the vet for a check-up and shots, and brought her back to the house and let her run with Diesel and Oliver.  Oliver growled for a while, but I expected that much.  He is comfy with life just the way it is.  Diesel pays close attention to the kitten, following her around and playing.  She is learning all his traits.  Not sure if that is a good thing or not.  We'll see if we can find her a home soon.

Nausicaa (the sugar glider) has seemed to forgiven me for taking a weekend away.  She is now sitting on the armrest of my chair while I'm typing.  She's yelled at me today, but I deserved it. 

And I guess that's it for now.  Way past my bedtime and I think Nausicaa has done enough exploring tonight.  I haven't made any new toys for her today, but snacks have happened.  Who doesn't love snacks?

Saturday, May 16, 2015

The Flavor of Panic

It starts with a spot of pressure, a presence in my chest.  It's more of an irritant at first.  I'll ignore this.  It's nothing.  The spot grows.  It somehow has grown to engulf my lungs.  They're tight.  They won't pull in air.  The pressure is now a hungry fire.  I cough to clear my throat.  It accomplishes nothing.  Icy daggers now prod from within my stomach.  Nauseous, shaky, dizzy, and wobbly ...  it's not going to let me ignore it.  Every muscle that forms this confounded body tries to fight back.  It takes all I have not to crumple into a ball.  Frustration, fear, anger, and confusion battle for precedence in my exhausted mind.  Heat and cold wrap around me in waves.  Being soaked in sweat makes me feel even more sickly.  It isn't going to stop.  Don't try to stand ... my knees will not hold.  Speech will not happen.  It only results in idiotic noises and nonsense.  Black shadows steal away my vision.  That's ok, I don't think I'm seeing all that well anyway.  It's best not to fight it.  It will pass more quickly.  The post-spaz aches will be the same either way.  I can only hope someone is near and that they know what is going on.  No paramedics or doctors.  They can only ask the same questions over and over again as if my answers will change.  Just open the pill bottle.  Thank goodness it's a tiny tablet.  There would be no way of swallowing anything the size of a jellybean.  But my fingers cannot find the little pill.  My hands are as flimsy as a bunch of two week old bananas trying to pick up a melting ice cube.  By this point, sound is nearly nonexistent.  All I can hear is muffled voices and the pounding of my heart in my ears.  I have to catch my breath to try down a mouthful of water.  Don't drown.  If I can get my throat to cooperate, bring on the pill and more water.  Please, not a glass.  I cannot control my trembling and spastic movements.  Let's not crack a tooth on the cup or bite a chunk out of the glass.  That will only lengthen the life of this party.  Now all I can do is wait.  Wait for the meds to kick in.  Wait for the panic to calm.  Wait for air to fill my lungs.  Wait for my stomach to stop tearing itself apart.  The flames and ice crawling through my body eventually fade into a warm tingling sensation.  This is where the nick name I've given these pills comes from.  Warm fuzzy.  Like an over-sized blanket fresh from the drier.  Soak it up.  Rest.  Perhaps sleep will erase the discomfort that has wracked this body.  Stillness is perfect.  My ears hum.  That's better than the ringing.  I can handle the hum.  It lulls me to sleep.

Tuesday, April 21, 2015

Back to Normal ... If There Ever Was a Normal

The hedgehogs are all rehabbed and have new homes.  Bill went to his new home yesterday.  His family is super excited to have him and I've got a feeling they are going to spoil him even with his grumpy attitude.  So now my office/writing room is back to the computer and the sugar glider.  Oh, I've finally named her.  Nausicaa.  There's two dots over the last a, but I don't know how to put that in on this computer.

My book-mommy instincts made me a bit grumpy earlier this evening.  There is a new fitness center across the road.  Their name is the same name I picked for my Baldorian army forever ago.  I guess that's what I get for flopping on the job and not getting The Veiled Heiress out where it belongs.  I don't think I can persuade them to rename the place.  Grrr.

I haven't done anything to propel my NaNo numbers.  Shame on me.  But I've goofed up on some personal stuff, so I'll most likely be hiding out in the house for a while.  Maybe that will be a help.  Grrr again.

Wow, this place is quiet at night! 

I had something I was going to post about, but I've managed to misplace it in the webs of my mind.  So here's a short post.  I needed to get back to the blog anyway.  I think it needs some updating.

Monday, March 30, 2015

Are You Out There?

I ignore my blog as much as I do my writing anymore.  Shame upon shame.

Now in a house.  So nice to have a place to ourselves and know we have a spot to park our cars when we come home.  Lawn wars is so on.  The lawn is winning.  I'm cheating.  Mow and trim the front yard and keep the gate closed so no one can she the jungle out back.  I know I can't do that forever, but it's holding for the moment.

Camp NaNoWriMo  is coming up.  April.  I'm completely unprepared, but that seems to work best for me in the writing department.  And Camp NaNo is easier on the 'rules'.  So I'm gonna see if I can't make myself finish A&F and get it out.  I have been informed there is a book club waiting for the final book.  They made it clear that it needs to be released SOON.  Yes, Ladies, this is going to happen.  Thank you for your patience and for not hunting me down and flogging me.

Also working as a wedding planner.  That is going well.  Lots of fun stuff and plenty of, "I'm an adult and will not kick this person in the shin."  It's amazing how businesses conduct business.  #willnotrant  #willnotnamenames

And the hedgehog rescue!  The first hedgie I took in was named Spike.  He came from Arlington, Texas.  Thus, I called him Spike Arlington.  (tada!)  He had a few issues.  Mainly dietary and dietary related problems.  Changed him to hedgehog chow and freeze dried bugs and he was loads better.  Still a little on the hefty side for his age, but he was doing great.  And so he was adopted out last week.  I miss hearing his exercise wheel running all hours of the night, but I'm hoping he's adapting to his new home.  The young man who took him in already has a collection of hedgies, so I trust him to make sure Spike stays in good shape.

The second rescue brought in is going to take longer.  We named him Bill.  He came from Austin, so you have Bill Austin.  He's not a happy guy.  He's on an RX and a regular diet, so he's slowly coming around.  Warning, he does bite.  He isn't nice.  But if I were treated and dumped in the condition in which he was, I think I'd bite too.  We give him his space.  He's not growling as much lately.  His quills are beginning to grow back.  These two facts alone make me feel much better for him.  I was afraid the vet was going to recommend putting him down.  But he did warn that Bill's condition would get worse before it gets better, so maybe we're past the worst of it.

The sugar glider is sitting next to me watching me type.  I've yet to name her.  She is an incredibly interesting creature.  She's clever and has a very good memory.  I'm hoping as long as I keep up the steady supply of fresh apples, we will continue to get along.

Anywho, back to the realm of writing.  In all honesty, A&F is being forced.  Oneiros and Tarny have been on my mind.  Science Fiction and Fantasy will be the main stage I'll be writing from.  I can't explain it, but they are easier to stick with.  Ahh, and Bertie Wells steals my attention here and there.  That one is growing.  It was looking to be another short story, but I think I'm overfeeding it.  I just hope it's not in a bad way.  Growing stories are always a trip.

Saturday, February 14, 2015

New Grounds

I've talked myself into writing a new post today ... how many days since my last post.   Even still, it isn't coming along very quickly.  Just watched the sun come up.  Now I have two kitties oh so patiently waiting for their morning feast.  Breakfast sounds good right now.  Cookie the Hate Bird is chirping her wake up song.  I don't think she's really awake.  It's a slow, broken song.  So it's quiet here.  If all goes as planned, this will be the last morning in for us in the apartment.  Most everything is already moved into the house ... maybe two miles up the road.  Colt stayed the night there.  He's become more excited about moving into the house than I have.  It's the moving part that gets me.

Colt started a new job at the beginning of this week.  We'll be in a new home by the end of it.  That's lots of change.  Hoping to keep it a good change.  Oh, and I've taken on the role of a wedding planner.  The big day is in December, so this will probably keep me busy for awhile.  A good busy.  So I need to get my desk area set up for editing, writing, letter writing, sewing, and wedding planning.  Yes, it's a big desk.

We'll see how many trips it will take to get the rest of this stuff shuttled over to the house.  There wasn't a real rush to move in.  The lease on the apartment has a little more time on it.  We're required to leave it in a perfect state (which has become a bit of a joke), so I'll have several days to dedicate to the supreme cleaning of our dwelling of one year.  It won't take much.  I think it's more about me being a stickler.  Oh, but I will miss the pecan grove.

So I'll go find some breakfast in a box, then pack up the hatchback Volvo with as many boxes as possible, and see how much stuff I can get moved on my own before our help shows up after lunch.  That little car holds more than I thought it would.  As does Dillon's Mini.  Yes, the truck would have probably had it finished by now, but I'm kind of proud of how much we have accomplished with two door, hatchback coupes.