Dispatches from the Goblin City

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!