Dispatches from the Goblin City

As I said in one of my earlier blogs, I'm easily distracted by just about everything. And lately I've become obsessed with WWII documentaries. Seriously, I must have spent a good 6 hours in one day just watching doc after doc, desperately searching for my grandfather's tank. You see, I grew up on fairy tales and WWII stories (the former told to me by my mom and the latter from my grandpa) and I have been missing my grandfather quite fiercely. Don't worry, he's not dead. But he is lost to the deep throes of dementia and doesn't know who I am to him anymore, which has broken my heart in a way that I didn't know it could break. [Not going to cry!] He was a Sherman tank driver in the 740th "Daredevil" Tank Battalion under Gen. Patton.  And his tank was the first over the Rhine and his battalion captured the SS 1st Panzer division (or whatever they were called.) He stormed Utah beach on D-Day and paratrooped with the 82nd Airborne. But m

The thing about Life is that it can be very distracting.  Or perhaps I'm just easy to distract.  Or both.  Yeah, I'm thinking both.  Trust me, I've been stuck with myself for ages, so I know. Right now I'm distracted by two small blond boys who are charming, cute and fabulous.  I'm a biased Godmother, it's true, but I'm not going to apologize.  They're very sweet and Henry was dancing to music by Poets of the Fall (I introduced the Denny House to that Finnish band today!) just now which makes me proud. :-P Over the past few days I've been working on blog updates in my head (that's as far as they got), but this actual update isn't flowing as well as I thought it would. But I can't really go into detail about what I'm working on because it is a SECRET. Now I have your attention, right? Haha! No, seriously, I'm not telling you. Nope, stop asking. And no pouting; it's very unbecoming! I know this isn't much of anything

Yep, you read that correctly: we are done with pears for the year.  Huzzah and all that jazz.  And now we return to our regularly scheduled blog.... ha ha ha ha.  Nothing about this blog is scheduled! I'm trying to change that, really, I am.  But change comes slowly, unless someone is threatening to toss you off of a cliff, then change comes pretty damn fast.  And no, I'm not looking for volunteers to chuck me over a cliff! My mother has been in a wickedly bad mood for the past few days.  Oh fun.  She inherited that hot Irish temper from her father and I also have it.  Saturday she was itching for a fight and I ignored her...for awhile, then I obliged her with an argument.  I'm quite proud of my self-control.  I didn't lose it! My mother is a very turbulent creature, more so than me maybe, and for every angry day she has a morose day.  Boug and I couldn't say anything to her (we have to yell because her hearing aid isn't working so well) without her feelin

I originally started this blog to keep myself accountable to my writing on a daily basis.  So far, as far as I can tell, I have not managed that yet. Just as I get better with more updates and longer blog entries I fall off of the Writing Wagon because life happens. Everything that has happened since my last update I have blogged about in my head, and as soon as we can download stuff from our brains directly to our computers, I'll let you know all about it.  But for now, I can't really remember what I was going to tell you, dear Internet. I guess you'll just have to trust me when I say stuff happened.  Lots of interesting, fascinating, mildly exciting stuff.  But it has all left me because I didn't commit it to this blog in time.  I'm the self-appointed Queen of I'll Blog About That After My Nap!  Not even joking. Fear not, darling reader, for I do have a tale to share with you; a tale of appreciation.  It begins with me waiting for paperwork to arrive fro

The trick with canning pears, or anything in general, is to start early in the morning.  I think we were supposed to begin processing our boatload of pears around 9 a.m. or so; we started closer to 2 p.m. We also lacked organization in all honesty.  Poor Mrs. Kyllingmark tried valiantly to keep four giggling girls in line and on task.  No small feat and I feel she deserves a trophy or Congressional Medal of some kind. So Mare and I (and Mrs. Kyllingmark) were on pear-prep: peeling, slicking, coring. Annetta and her niece, Robin, were on production: packing and canning.  Our operation was becoming pretty streamlined until Netta assembled the canner with the top dome as the base. "Make sure you put the dome lid on, Netta," said Mrs. Kyllingmark. "What dome?" queried Netta. At this point Mrs. Kyllingmark ventured into the kitchen proper to check on Annetta and the troubled canner, possibly thinking the lid had been left behind at her house. "Netta, you

I was supposed to meet Marilyn at her house around 8:15am, but I arrived after 8:45 (!!).  Punctuality is the bane of my existence, but I am getting better at being closer to my target time.   Of course, as soon as I walk through the door my godson, Rowan, globs onto me.  His RC car is recharging so he explained how the remote works (hence the pic below.)  Yep, he's a cutie.  But now I need to get back to my coffee because I think today is going to be a busy, pear-canning day. Ta!

I was asked by a dear friend a couple of weeks ago to help him register his car here in Oregon (he's stationed in Florida), so being the awesome friend that I am I agreed. Today I finally got the license plates shipped and he should have them by Monday.  Yay, accomplishment! In other news, I interviewed for a nanny position with a great family, but I live roughly 30 miles outside their city, so naturally they are leaning more toward someone local.  I completely understand their logic, really, I do.  But I really want the job.  I guess I'm not totally out of the running...yet.  Who knows? I might still get it. This weekend will hopefully consist of pear-canning (which I've never done) and shopping around in thrift stores looking for some cosplay clothes.  I'm going to watch the Doctor Who Series 8 premier in a theatre with some lovely cousins and cosplay is required (which is something else I've never done). I'm going as the 11th Doctor's companion, A

So I awoke to find the Black Dog still curled up snugly in my brain, just like my mom's dog, Jax, was curled around me in real life. ::sighs::  I wanted, no, I needed, today to be different from yesterday, so I took the initiative and emailed a potential employer about a nanny gig. I can honestly say I never thought of myself as a nanny, but these past years have shown me that I have a natural knack when it comes to taking care of people, no matter their age.  I've been exchanging some emails and am trying to not get my hopes up, but they're rising all on their own. Anywho, back to the creative front:  The Black Dog dragged me into a quagmire in my mind and I have yet to get out.  A large chunk of my story revolves around and takes place on an alien desert planet.  Feels like I'm stuck in quicksand as I try to stay away from sci-fi industry standards like: Frank Herbert's "Dune" or Roddenberry's "Vulcan". Good luck to me with that. Pe

The big, black dog of depression and self-doubt tackled me today, hard.  So I've been investing my energy to beating it away with a Stick of Awesomeness, but it hasn't worked as well as I wanted it to. I guess this is just the price I must pay for my creativity.  Every artist has their demons, right?  Man, that sounds so arrogant when I see it typed out in front of my face. But that doesn't make it any less true. The Black Dog got me down today, but tomorrow WILL be a different story.  Yes, tomorrow will be better!

I'm updating from Annetta's living room where we, of the Nameless, have assembled to write.  Or not write, because small children and the Internet are welcomed distractions. I probably should introduce myself and the ladies (so far we have no males among our number), but I feel that would defeat the purpose of our not-name. Actually, we are the Nameless because we haven't named our writing group. I have decided to take a minor break from my main story idea because I've hit a heavy brick wall where its plot is concerned. Still trying to work out who or what my antagonist is and stuff. Yeah, I'm not annoyed or anything. Ahem, moving right along... I did write something, so it's not like I haven't been productive.  I just haven't been as productive as I could have been. Anyway, here is what I have to share (keep in mind it is a first draft!): The city was poorly lit at night; its streets covered in metropolitan debris and its downtown looking

Summers in the Pacific Northwest are muggy affairs with tepid rains and craven winds, making AC an absolute must-have. Yesterday my house was a whopping 99.9 F and the AC was dead; felt like I was in a greenhouse! But, hark, the AC repairman cometh today! And he fixed it and now my house feels glorious.  Now I'm surrounded by lovely, blessedly cool, air currents. This is sheer bliss.  And it also means I can stop dreaming of sleeping in one of those body lockers in a morgue (seriously, I did dream that!) and get back to dreaming about my stories.  Can I get a 'Hell Yes!'? Hell Yes!!!!! My elation is tempered by the fact that my house is being painted green right now and every window is taped up, so back to my greenhouse feeling.... ha ha ha. Now, I have to go make myself write.  Ta!

Since this is my sandbox I reserve the right to change the name of this blog at my whim or fancy.  Maybe it will grow on me over time... So, yeah, this will definitely turn into something.  Hopefully something worth reading.  If you leave my blog even mildly amused, then I consider I've done the job I set out to do. Now, if you will pardon me, I can hear the coffee pot summoning me!