Home Improvement!

Despite having one of THOSE days (the kind where I officially don't feel well and spend most of the day on the couch, sipping at liquids), I am ridiculously excited to share a couple changes we recently made around the house.

About two months ago, I got the brilliant idea to freshen up our bathrooms. As a real estate agent, I know that outdated baths and kitchens are often the first reason for undervalued home sales. And while I don't know for sure that the work we're doing will still be good-looking or in mode by the time we do decide to sell our home, at least it's prettier to look at and live in in the meantime.

Not to mention, hey, I like it.

My idea started out simple enough: paint the upper half of the walls and add wainscoting and chair rail molding to the lower half.

This was easily something WH and I could accomplish ourselves, and I have to admit to being super-psyched to start. I went and picked out paint colors. I bought the wainscoting and painted it. I picked out the molding.

And then logic started to set in. For instance: adding wainscoting meant taking out the toilet and vanity. That was messing with plumbing, which was not something either of us were comfortable doing on our own just yet. But some research online showed that it really wouldn't be that scary, so it was worth it to try.

Once we conquered the plumbing, I got another brilliant idea. Since we already had the toilet and vanity out, why not re-do the floors? When I suggested this, I didn't actually think WH would agree to it. But he did. And so somehow I wound up tiling my first-ever floor. Luckily it was a small one to start with!

The whole experience took way, way longer than we thought-- and we have only finished the smaller of the two baths. But at least it's done (except for one or two minor details) and ready to go!

So, without further ado, I present to you:

The Before:



The After:

(Click to embiggen)

If one of our wedding photos wasn't at the top of that picture I'm not sure I'd believe this bathroom is actually in our house!

A better picture of the floor that I tiled. (Can you tell I'm excited that I did this? I love working with my hands and discovering new skills, even things as mundane as tiling a floor. And I only screwed up a little!)


The awesome part is that the toilet and the vanity are both the old ones. We just got a new faucet, seat, and handle, and they cleaned up pretty spiffy! Our hall bath still has the glorious 80's/90's vanity from several owners ago, so we'll be replacing that one... but we won't start that bath for a couple weeks at least.

WH did such an amazing job with everything. There were several weekends where he practically did nothing but work on the bathroom, cutting the wainscoting and molding and measuring and re-cutting and filling holes in the drywall and fixing the toilet and etc. So thank you, to my amazing and awesome and wonderful husband for indulging my crazy project, which started out with him ideally just "helping" and wound up with him doing most of the work!

One more thing while I've got you here-- can't resist showing off our new dining room set!


As if you needed more evidence of his craftiness, WH built the banquette benches in the back by modifying cupboards from Ikea. Here's a slightly better view with bonus cat picture:


So yay home improvement! You have no idea how long I've been dying to show you guys these pictures. Can't wait to share the hall bath once we get that one done!

THE BEES

Yesterday was an interesting ride. I was late to work in the morning because I went outside and noticed that my pumpkins, which had been flowering, had been flowering. . . more. Like, a lot more. I've been worried that they would flower and then not pollinate ( which means no pumpkins) because I haven't seen very many bees around our yard lately, and I made an idle hope-- against the rest of myself, speaking as one who has been getting progressively worse and worse reactions to bee stings over the last few years-- that more bees would come visit our yard and pollinate my vines. Then I got a stick and scraped pollen off the male flowers and rubbed it around inside the female flowers, hoping that some bees would visit and do the job properly during the day. This is probably the silliest reason I've ever been late to work but these pumpkins have consumed me. I am determined to have beautiful, plump, orange and white pumpkins (that I grew myself) at our wedding.

The rest of the day didn't get much better after I was late. I had family stress (resolved), wedding stress (also eventually resolved), work stress (who doesn't?), and road-rage stress. Some guy nearly rear-ended me on the way home during a sudden stop in traffic, and then proceeded to tail-gate me while I was slamming on my brakes AND trying to give him more room to stop and avoid an accident. Once the tangle cleared up he then came around and cut me off-- on purpose. Luckily, I think I made him more mad than he made me, and I managed to avoid an accident, but, seriously, dude?

And then I got home, which is usually my sanctuary.

I did my usual I'm-home routine, which involves parking the car in the garage, going inside, greeting the cats, checking for things they've destroyed, cleaning up said destruction, putting the mess on the back porch, and then going to check on my bunny and water my plants. I've been letting the bunny run around in the backyard while I water lately, so I got her out and went to go put on her harness and leash (bright pink, so I can find her, and long, so I can catch her when she doesn't want to be caught). I was snuggling and baby-talking her just by her cage and idly looking out the back window when I noticed something rather terrifying just outside.

Does anyone else remember those made-for-TV movies from the late 90's or so about killer bees?

Yeah. I was in my early teens at the time, and my mom has this weird fascination with bees, so we watched all of them. There was more than one, or maybe the same one several times, I don't remember. All I know is that I've been unreasonably terrified of any situation involving bees + houses since then. And it looked like our back porch was filled with them.

They can't have been there long. Either that or I am really that oblivious, as only a few minutes before I had put a towel out on the back porch and had not been stung, swarmed, or killed. But now it seemed like there were hundreds, swarming around the gutter just a few feet from the back door.

Once I got WF safely inside on his arrival home, we assessed the situation. It appeared we were in some trouble: they were not just passing through. I've been through swarms before, and these bees weren't acting like they were just hanging out. They were acting like they were moving in.

I sat by the back window and watched them for a good while. They kept coming and hitting the glass, trying to get to me and the cats, which led me to believe that they may be of the more aggressive variety, and cemented my resolve to not go anywhere near them. I fretted a little about not being able to water my beautiful pumpkin vines and check on the few strawberries I have growing. But I fretted more about the bees, and therefore stayed indoors.

I put tape over the tiny pressure-flap we have in our back window and checked the cracks around our doors out of sheer paranoia-- and thanked my stars we don't have an attic. Those movies have made me less than rational when it comes to bees. Turbo, of course (gray cat), immediately un-taped the window in his attempts at catching one of the Fun Bugs that kept hitting the glass. Now I know who not to trust in the event of a zombie apocalypse. (Though to be fair, Turbo was already my first choice. He just totally seems like the one that would let them in the house, you know?)

This morning WF managed to sneak outside and water for me while the hive/ swarm was still asleep. He said it was eerie because he only noticed when he was coming back INTO the house that the back walls had sleeping bees all over them, too.

We called a bee service, and they are coming out in an hour or so to give us an estimate, and I'm hoping it will be rather painless.

Part of me wants to be able to water my plants and exercise my bunny, and part of me is just sad that the bees came when I asked them to, just. . . not in the right place. Sorry, bees. And Universe, please don't take me so literally next time.

The Cat Burfler

*This post is about cat vomit. If you are offended by cat vomit, do not read on.*

She comes in the night, or during the day while we're at work.

She knows us-- too well, it would seem, because she knows when we're most likely to not be home, or not paying attention.

She bides her time, waiting until the perfect moment, and then burfles on our bed.

It was imperceptible at first; just a tiny puddle on the comforter. But as she learned our limits, she began to push them. Soon, it was several times a night. From the comforter to the under blanket, to one day-- when she was bravest of all-- our sheets.

Her stealth is unparalleled; she is the whisper of a ghost. One moment there, the next gone, leaving only her calling card and a load of laundry for the next day.

I wash our sheets daily with bitter tears.

I can feel her greediness increasing with each incident. Like a grasping demon she claws for the next big score, and I know what the ultimate prize is-- our pillows. I dread the day I come home--or wake up-- to find my worst fears are true. There are some things that cannot be taken back, no matter how good the return policy.

So I write this post out of respect for our cat burfler, that she may be appeased and leave us to a restful night's sleep without the unpleasant discovery of the shattering of our dreams.

Oh-- we believe we may have pictorial evidence of the culprit. If you squint really hard in this picture, we feel she may be the dark, soul-sucking shadow over our other cat. If anyone sees this cat burfler, do not approach. Please just leave a comment here letting me know and we will contact the appropriate authorities.



Edit: Picture was broken, should be fixed (if a little smaller) now.

Remembering something I'd long ago forgotten

Janet Reid's blog today reminded me of something that I've forgotten about myself.

Well, forgotten isn't a fair word. I guess I should say that I've moved on. It's no longer something that I think about often, if at all. Every now and then a loud, sudden noise will startle me, and I'll think back to it. But I'm still here, which is a lot more than some kids got.

Today is the eleventh anniversary of the Columbine shooting. On March 22, 2001, there was also a shooting at my high school, Granite Hills.

Luckily, no one died. There had been a shooting at another school (Santana High) in our same district only two weeks prior, and as a result, we had an on-campus officer (hero) named Rich Agundez. He stopped our shooter before anyone was seriously hurt.

But the fear-- the fear of dying, the fear of not knowing what was happening, the fear of wondering if anyone you knew was dead while huddled in a small chem supply room with 100 other students-- the fear stays, and takes time to fade.

The what-ifs can consume you, too, if you let them. What if the shooter had gotten there ten or fifteen minutes earlier, like he intended, when the whole school was still at lunch? What if the shooting at Santana hadn't just happened, and there was no on-campus officer?

Obviously these are questions I can't answer, and I won't try. For something so horribly wrong, things just went right that day. Right on the path of living, right on the path of luck.

At first, there was doubt. It sounded like someone dropping one of the many voluminous metal trash cans lining the concrete hallway outside. But there was a quality to the sound that made everyone in my chemistry class freeze. We'd all just sat down and written our names on a test, and I was deep in thought about question number two when I heard the first bang. I felt my heart slide down my spine, but I was a panicky kid, and didn't think much of it. Then it happened again, and someone asked if it was a gun shot.

By this time we were all watching our teacher, except the kids in the back row, who were watching out the windows. Someone said they saw people running.

Our teacher sprang up and ordered us to move into the supply room that annexed four classrooms in the building. The other classes came pouring in, and finally the teachers closed and locked the doors and turned off the lights. We sat in the dark, and waited.

I had no idea what was going on. No one did. Some kids were talking about opening the doors to the hallway outside and seeing if they could see anything. The rest of us quickly vetoed them.

It felt like years passed in that tiny, cramped room. Some kids were crying, including me.

At long last, something happened. I can't remember if someone went out and checked, or if they came in and got us, but the SWAT team was there. We all filed out of the room one by one, hands in the air. Uniformed masks with high-powered rifles aimed at us lined the halls as we walked out and across the street to a neighboring park, to wait for our parents to come get us. No one knew what happened.

A lot of kids whipped out their cell phones and called their parents. My mom was already on her way. The rest of the afternoon passed in a flash, and all I remember after is my mom running across the street to wrap me in her arms when she finally found me.

So, my experience with a school shooting ended better than most. There were some rather minor injuries (not mine) and a lot of trauma, but no lost friends. No place I couldn't come back from.

I know it's not March 22nd. It is, in fact, Columbine's day of remembrance. But on this day, I remembered something I'd forgotten-- what it was like. And remembering what it was like made me want to tell everyone who was at Columbine, and any other schools where terrible things have happened like this, that I understand. I understand, but I can never know. I can only imagine what it would have been like if things hadn't gone right that day.

And to Rich Agundez, wherever you are, thank you, again. Thank you a thousand times.

Earthquake

Most everything seems to be fine here. We weren't home for it, but our house appears to be undamaged and nothing even out of place.

We were at W.F.'s parent's house,and had just sat down to Easter dinner when it started. Everything rumbled and swayed for what felt like forever. There have been a few small aftershocks, but hopefully nothing bigger again in the coming days. It was centered about 112 miles southeast of us in MexiCali, and last I heard at a 7.2. My heart goes out to the people there-- knowing that the construction in the area could be pretty similar to that of Haiti and Chile, I can imagine that there are casualties and damage. I don't have much definitive news just yet, but I'm hoping it's not as bad as the other two recent disasters.

Just wanted to let any of you who were wondering know we're okay over here-- I haven't really heard of any building damage (in the San Diego area, at least), and I have friends and relatives all over the county.

Waiting

I feel like I'm waiting on a lot right now. I'm actually sort of scared for when answers start rolling in.

I know I've written about waiting before, and what to do with yourself in the meantime, but what do you do when what you're waiting on seems to consume everything around you?

I get butterflies in my stomach every time I think about what I'm waiting for. It's not good for my disposition.

So, instead, I'm trying to take my own advice and focus on something else-- my wedding. I get giddy every time I think about walking down the aisle, and I'm sure that obsessing over what time the ceremony will be and where to stamp the invites is much more productive than worrying about things I have no control over.

Even if they are really wonderful, amazing things.

I am happy with the life that I have, and I have so much already. So I'll focus on what I do have and let the answers roll right on by, whenever they come. Doesn't mean I won't be investing in Hershey Co. for a few weeks. Chocolate soothes the bitterest soul :)

I know I've asked this before, too, but I could use a reminder today: what do you do to keep your sanity while you're waiting on something?

Get Yer Mad Libs Words Here! Mad Libs Words Today!

Go check out our first guest poster, Harley Mays, over at the Secret Archives of the Alliterati today.

Planning a wedding is AWESOME. It is all-consuming at times. Which means, I don't have any content for you today.

I hope you'll forgive me. I have Mad Libs Words though!!

Leave the following in the comments by Sunday evening to play. Go here for rules if you don't know how.

Verb ending in -ed
Noun
Plural Noun
Plural Noun
Noun
Adjective
Last Name

T.G.I.F. and Mad Libs Words Day

Thank. Goodness. *Gasps*

*Crawls on shore, wearing bedraggled clothes, soot staining half of face, hair sticking out at odd angles*

Made it to another weekend. Anyone else relieved it's Friday?

Oooh! Ooooh! Me! I am!

Wait. I already showed that. Now I'm telling. Dangit, I can't wait til I have time to write again. I'm getting worn out. Used up. Out of practice. Cliche.

It... *is* Friday, right? I'm not stuck in some sort of sick, infinite loop, am I?

Happy weekend, everyone!

Don't forget-- The Secret Archives of the Alliterati launches on Monday (and yes! We are still looking for guest bloggers. Email us at alliteratiarchives[at]gmail[dot]com if you're interested). See you all there! And here. But mostly there.

Here are the Mad Libs words for this week. For a breif treatyse on how to play, go visit this post.

Occupation
Emotion
Adjective
Plural noun
Adverb (ends in -ly)
Noun
Last Name
Noun

Leave your answers in the comments by Sunday evening and I'll post the results Monday.

Today is February 23rd, 2010.

For me, at least. Hopefully it is for all of you, as well. Otherwise I've time-traveled, again. Gosh darnit.

Anyway, the local paper seems to agree with me (unless it's a KGB plant! I'm watching you...) so I think I'm safe in saying,

*ahem*

I will be gone the next two days. Woo-hoo for things coming together at work and a big hurrah for me. *Pats self on back*.

See you all on Friday, my lovelies. Give my best to yourselves.

P.S.--

I'm snuggling my bunny RIGHT NOW.

There Is A Giant Fly In My Office. Thanks NASA.

Word Count: 39,763

I wish I was kidding. The thing is approximately the size of a WWII bomber. And I'm totally blaming it on NASA bombing the moon this morning.

Oh, and I totally dropped this yesterday: Do

It fell out of the title of my post, and I'm sorry, dear Alliterati, that you had to suffer through my badly-proofread title in your feeds all day yesterday. The damage has been repaired, and your eyes are spared. (Hey! Accidental Poetry!)

Anyway, I am going to keep this short today as I don't have any brilliant ideas and I kinda wrote a "novel" about characterization yesterday. I want to say thank you to everyone who commented since I didn't get to respond yet, and apologize to Matt, for once again, I did not get to your query. I swear, if you don't hear from me tonight or tomorrow morning, you can e-silent treatment me and I'll completely understand. And for the rest of you, if for some reason you don't already follow Matt, head on over to his blog, or the Public Query Slushpile and take a look at his query for CALLARION AT NIGHT and offer some feedback!

On to Other Things: Susan R. Mills (formerly Lazy Writer) has a really good interview up at her blog today about online presences and marketing. I think the first question she asks is just stellar information that everyone should know. So check it out!

And last, but certainly not least: You all know what day it is. MAD LIBS!!!!!!

Ok, so normally I take the top article on NYT.com and make the mad lib from that, but the top article right now is actually pretty cool in my humble opinion, so I'm going to take something a little more---parodical? paradiocal? parody-able?--- instead. So, are you ready?

If you want to play this week, this is what you'll need to leave in the comments:

Liquid
Adjective ending in -ness
Adjective ending in -ness
Verb
Living Thing
Location
Adjective ending in -er
Plural Noun
Gaseous Element
Noun
Adverb
Adjective ending in -ed

That thing we all have to do as writers. You know,

Word Count: 37,116

Characterization. Learn it. Love it. Fantasize about bonking it over the head with a cast-iron kettle every now and then. Make it pull over the car and let us out when it doesn't listen to what we're trying to say. Give it the silent treatment for a couple days until it apologizes. You get the general idea.

I've been noticing a trend in tv shows lately. Perhaps it's not a new trend, but to be quite honest, I don't watch much tv. Or I didn't, until lately, which coincides with my noticing of this trend. Hmm. At any rate, the trend is this, and please forgive my formatting because I am not a screenwriter. Clearly.

--PILOT EPISODE (or CHARACTER'S FIRST APPEARANCE)--

**Enter CHARACTER**

**CHARACTER does something SO OVER-THE-TOP and RIDICULOUS that we can't believe they're for real! CHARACTER continues to do OVER-THE-TOP and RIDICULOUS things for the rest of the episode.**

--EPISODE 2--

**Enter CHARACTER**

**CHARACTER is magically a real human being, only retaining some portion of their former RIDICULOUS and OVER-THE-TOP personality. Just enough, in fact, that we can recognize them as THE SAME CHARACTER from the PILOT.**

Here are some examples of what I mean:

In "Dead Like Me," when we first meet Daisy, Daisy Adair, she is so obnoxious you want to smack her. I honestly don't recall how long she stays this way, maybe for a couple episodes, even, but yeah. You spend a lot of time building this hate for her, and then bam: suddenly, she's practically normal, sympathetic to our MC even, and somewhat reasonable, with fringe bits of her original personality shining through at opportune moments. It was flabbergasting.

Poor "Pushing Daisies." Had so much promise, then bam! Cancellation Hammer Smash! Anyway, WB and I watched all two seasons all the way through because as usual, we totally missed the boat when the show was actually on air. So I spent the whole span of the first season expecting Olive to try and wipe Chuck off the face of the planet. It was quite shocking when she defends and even becomes genuine friends with her, despite the first episode showing that she is madly in love with Ned and would do anything to have him.

"Vampire Diaries". Elena spends most of the first episode being totally emo. Totally Bella, in fact. I just get a real mopey feel from her, the "angst-y" teen who lost her parents. Then, next episode, she's magically almost normal. Only a few references to "how sad she is" are scattered through the next few episodes. We get the impression that she's a real arty type in the beginning, too, then bam! Turns out she's a cheerleader? Also, Stefan. Don't even get me started on Stefan. Moody, broody, angst-y vampire who gets on the football team and can't take out his (deliciously) evil brother because he won't drink human blood and therefore isn't strong enough. Oi. I'll keep watching, and no, I haven't read the books, but it felt like a cop-out to me. Of course, it is a teen drama show. So there's that.

So what does this have to do with writing? Well, writing tv shows is a form of writing, so I don't feel too off-base here. But this tactic is a stretch, for me. There are far easier ways to characterize without having to make your character unbelievable for a few pages. You can describe their intimate spaces, for example, such as their bedroom, etc. Describing the kinds of thing that they keep in their personal space is a great way to bring together a collage of your character.

You can describe their wardrobe. My MC in my new WIP currently is wearing Italian leather shoes and a tailored suit--- in the South. But he wants to be known as "rich blood", so it's an expression not only of his taste and the perfection in clothing he learned to seek during his time in the Army, but also his personality laying the trap that he is.

Facial expressions. Turns of phrase. There's just something about a guy who's got splotchy red cheeks and shakes like Jello when he laughs that we all instantly recognize as jolly. If he says, "Ho ho ho!" we know immediately who we're dealing with. If he says, "I'm going to kill you, Timmy!" well, that tells us a lot about him too.

What kind of car do they drive? Or horse, or steam engine? Or do they prefer to walk or bike? These little things give us instant comparisons to people we know with the same qualities, and we can make assumptive leaps into their personality without huge amounts of description to weigh us down.

So, would the tv tactic work with our novels? I say, in small amounts, or for comic relief, sure. But all this does, generally, in tv shows, is annoy me. Suddenly, it's like everything I knew about the character melts away, only coming out when it's convenient to the plot that CHARACTER does something RIDICULOUS and OVER-THE-TOP.

The most important lesson here, though, is that for strong characterization, keep your character CONSISTENT. Don't have them over-the-top in the first chapter, and then morose and boring for the rest of the book. You can still surprise your reader, but they should have a pretty good idea how your character will react to certain situations about mid-way through.

You can space out characterization, too. If it comes all at once it feels too much like the tv tactic, I think. If it's spread evenly throughout your story though, it's nice because we feel like we know them, but much like the real people in our lives, we continue to learn new things about them.

How do you characterize your, um, characters?

**Special FTC Compliance Note: The shows described above did, in fact, provide me with products in exchange for my snarky reviews of them by freely broadcasting episodes on their networks. I hope my readers understand this means I have been compromised, and they should run away immediately, screaming.**

Words I Like

Word Count: 34,647

That's right, I'm copping out today and reverting to vocabulary. Give me a break, I need to focus on le WIP for a bit. So without further ado, I bring you what hopefully, for your sakes, won't be a regular feature:

WORDS I LIKE

whilst: I don't know why we don't get to use this word more. Probably because people look at you funny, but I love this word. I intend to use "whilst" whilst writing and speaking more often.

frenetic: We've been over this one already, but it's AWESOME.

occupied: I don't know why. I deal with this word a lot at work, but I still like it.

In that same vein, oculus: How COOL is oculus? An eye to the sky at the apex of a dome in a building? Sah-weet!

onomatopoeia: It's a mouthful, AND a writing word!

oak: Lots of words that start with "o" on here. I'm not hatin' on the rest of the alphabet, I swear. This is probably my favorite type of tree as a word, though I can't stand the ones we have here in real life. Ugly dead-looking things, ugh. But anyway, there you have it. Oak.

indubitably: Indubitably, "indubitably" is a fun word to say and use. On the same level as "whilst."

And last, but certainly not least, how could I forget my favorite made-up words?

meese: While I didn't technically come up with this, I plan to use it often. In conversation. Yes, even if it means I stand out as a stranger. Go Alaska. :)

Alliterati: The Alliterati should tell me in the comments below what their favorite words are. Bane, I already gotcha for corybantic, got any others? I always want to learn new fun and cool words :)

Patriot Day.

I get it. I mean, it's hard to come up with names for these things now, I'm sure. And "The day the World Trade Center was blown up by two airplanes, a third crashed into the Pentagon and a fourth crashed into a field, changing thousands of lives" doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. But I feel we're losing something in translation here. Just like I don't really, fully understand WHAT we're memorializing on Memorial Day or laboring on Labor Day, I don't think my children will know what Patriot Day really stands for.

How awful it was, even as a citizen completely shielded from the devastating effects of the day, to wake up to that on that morning.

To watch it, throughout the day at school, and cry as the towers collapsed.

To hear the stories of heroism and bravery afterward and just wish there was something, anything, I could do.

To know the pain of the families that lost fathers, mothers, wives, husbands, daughters and sons that day.

To be angry and feel futile and small against the terrors of close-mindedness and tradition. To not understand.

I still will refer to it as 9/11. Because to me, while yes, that's just a date, when I talk about "after 9/11" to my kids, they will ask, what's so special about 9/11? If I say "after Patriot Day" I'm afraid they won't ever be curious enough to ask. And I owe it to them, when they arrive, to share the history that I have experienced, because history is so important.

I don't begrudge anyone their Patriot Day. I just want to hold on to my 9/11.

Bless all those who were affected by this awful day 8 years ago.

Wait; isn't this a writing blog?

Word Count: 87,310

Well, yes, yes it is a writing blog. But I am in limbo again; finished my first round of edits and revisions based on my first beta reader, and since I basically have a completely new draft, I told my mom to go ahead and wait til I got it over to her before starting her read while she's on vacation this week. So, that was the plan last night, but then my printer ink cartridge died (again) and the office supply store was closed (of course) so, yeah. On my lunch today, I will go get a cartridge and then drop off my MS on my way to my writer's group tonight.

The upshot of all that convoluted nonsense is that I can't do anything to my MS today. It's already a third printed, so if I make any changes it might screw up the rest of it. So, I thought I'd write about what the Julie/Julia Project I linked to on Friday did to me over the weekend.

It made me cook.

Gah, you don't understand--- I am the girl who won't touch raw meat, doesn't do more than three steps and NEVER makes more than one or two dishes that require more than that. Not from a lack of effort, mind you, but rather utter failure every time I tried.

Until Saturday night. I had Julie/Julia on the brain, and my grief for my horse needed to channel itself into something creative, so I looked at Wonderful Boyfriend and said, "I want to cook dinner tonight."

He promptly checked my temperature and, on reassurance that I was not terribly ill, nor possessed of an evil spirit or succumbing to madness, followed me patiently through the grocery store.

Perhaps I was actually succumbing to madness, or possessed of some spirit--- not evil, necessarily, perhaps a gustatory spirit?--- because what followed was somewhat insane, for me.

I decided I wanted Greek Food. Wonderful Boyfriend wasn't so keen on the idea (he has no taste, and I don't mean that all insultingly, he just doesn't appreciate a lot of food, and doesn't like very many flavors, so I often wonder if he literally has no taste), so I opted out of Greek Rice and into Cheesy Garlic Mashed Potatoes. But the rest of the menu would remain: Greek Seasoned Chicken, Tsatsiki Sauce, and Tandoori Nan (store bought--- I ain't THAT crazeh).

I started with the Tsatsiki Sauce--- a whole cucumber, seeded, grated into a sieve and left to drain for a half hour, then squeezed and pressed dry, mixed with a cup of yogurt (plain, non-Greek, though Greek yogurt would have resulted in a thicker sauce), 1 tsp of lemon juice, dill, salt and pepper. Chop one clove of garlic finely and add. (In retrospect, I could have done without the garlic, it adds a bite that I prefer it without.)

Then--- check this out--- for the Cheesy Garlic Mashed Potatoes, I sliced up another clove or two of garlic and sauteed it in butter until brown, then added about a cup and a half of chicken stock and let it reduce to half at a simmer. I boiled three small/ medium potatoes, chopped into chunks, in chicken stock and when done, added a 1/4 to 1/2 cup milk, a tbsp butter, and drained the garlic reduction stock through a sieve into the pan to get out the bits of garlic and fatty film. Then I added about a 1/4 cup of 3-cheese Italian blend (had parmesan, asiago, and one other kind, dangit I forget), mashed, and let sit to melt the cheeses while WB made the chicken on our grill. Toasted the Nan to dip in the Tsatsiki and OH MY G I actually COOKED SOMETHING.

But it didn't stop there, my friends--- the spirit was quite prolific and encouraged me to bake cookies, as well. White chocolate chip cookies following the directions on the Toll House Premier White Morsels bag, *but* I added pistachios instead of macadamia nuts.

I followed it up the next morning by making WB scrambled eggs and toast.

Wow, reading this over again makes me realize I really MUST have been possessed by something.

Layout

Word Count: 85,090 (Oh dear, it's going backwards.)

I spent last night sleeping in the front seat of my car out at my ranch, waking up every 45 minutes or so to my apparently correctly-installed auto-mommy-alarm to check on my horse. I was too scared to leave; too afraid of what I would come back to if I did. She seemed to have a slightly improved appetite this morning, and was drinking a little, but she's still super dehydrated and I'm going to lose her if she doesn't start drinking more today. I feel hungover; finally fell asleep at midnight and was wide awake at five for the second day in a row, and I am definitely the" need at least 8 hours" kind of person, so that, plus waking up all night, is taking its toll on my brain and body. If none of this is coherent, that's why.

At any rate, this is a writing blog, not a horse blog, so I'll stay on topic now:

I picked this layout, because it's cleverly called "Scribe" and I didn't feel like bothering to create my own when I started my blog, but I've now noticed that a lot of writers also have the same layout. This is not a bad thing because it's an awesome layout, and I love it, but I want something of my own now (though maybe today isn't the best day to try; I'll probably end up with neon something or other on accident that will be impossible and/ or hurt to read.) So anyway, how the heck do I make my own layout? I can't seem to find it anywhere on my dashboard, but again--- lack of sleep. Help?

Nine Years

Crazy day today. I actually took my lunch, so I had no time to do more than a few sentences in my novel. So, since I have no real progress to show anyway, I thought I'd take a break from writing about writing and actually write something today. In memoriam of my father:

It's been nine years tonight. Nine years since I held your hand and begged whatever higher power I could think of to stop the ebb of life out of your body. Nine years since I lost my best friend, constant companion, and father.

Nine years have passed, and I can tick them off on my fingers like any other number. Like how many apples I have in the fridge, or how many hours I spend at work each day. But the pain doesn't pierce me so sharply when I think about apples, or hours, like it did when I thought of you. Nine used to be the number of times I would cry in an hour in your memory. Now its another number, another place I find myself in my life after you. Another year since that awful, awful day.

My life has been separated by the divide of your passing. I define myself as the me before, and the me after. The me before had so little to worry about. She had an ideal of what her life would be, and you were always in it. The me after has come to realize that life isn't guaranteed, and that every time she says goodbye to someone, it could be the last.

I often wonder how different my life would be if you were still here. I've learned to bridge the canyon you left behind, but I wonder if I still would have needed it. If some other force would have given me a yawning maw to traverse anyway. I like to think it would have been easier with you there, beside me.

I still cry sometimes, Daddy. I still miss you when I think how you will never walk me down the aisle. You never saw me even graduate high school. You'll never get to be a grandfather to my children, or finish being a father to me. But I cherish the time we had, and I honor you every year on the anniversary of the worst day of my life.

I think you would be proud of me. I know you would love me. I hope you are finding peace from the pain you carried where you are now.

It's been nine years, and I still feel like a little girl when I think of you.