Not Another Ordinary Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, on a rainy day in Calgary, there lived a young woman that was struggling to be a writer. From her window overlooking Fish Creek Park she watched the rivers of rain snake along the pavement,  racing to that little opening in the roads where all rain and debris eventually fall. To be swept away into the dark underground of an energetic city and join up with the Bow River then be carried further south.

She pondered all things writing related. From the conception of an amazing story, all the character and plot development, the exemplary dialogue that she knew would soon spill from her fingertips. She considered first person point of view as opposed to third person. Mentally listed the benefits of both. She set daily writing goals that went unattained.

When it all seemed to become too much to think about any longer and she knew that the best course of action was to just do it, she turned on her laptop. Patiently she waited while the screen sprang to life, loading all that her world had become. An electronic bible that she could not do without. What ever did we do before there was email? Before computers became more of a household appliance than a luxury? Her memory was not what it used to be. She struggled to remember those days but they all seemed to blur together, in a Windows haze of blue and white. There was nothing before computers.

For a brief moment she considered the notebook and pen that was tucked safely in her purse. Available to her for those rare occasions that inspiration struck her and she was no where near her beloved laptop. But as the screen became alive she figured it was just as easy to write directly to the word processor rather than by hand and just have to transcribe everything later.

The mouse pointer hovered over a blank word document icon but she hesitated. There are so many other things that need to get done before she could really sit down to write. Dishes waited for her in the sink, crying out to be washed and put away. Toys lay scattered across the living room and dining room, begging to be put neatly into the toy box. And then there was the vacuum cleaner, gently whispering from the confines of the closet to be freed.

But she suppressed the voices. Moved the mouse pointer over the Internet Explorer icon and waited for the the new window to open. Next she clicked on her Gmail link, typed in her password and waited for it to load. Five minutes went by while she quickly scanned the new emails. Made some quick responses to important messages and read some funny emails. Next she logged into her Facebook account. Viewed all the new updates from her friends, commented on some interesting wall posts, expressed her like of others that she didn't feel necessary to comment on and updated her own status. Some of her closest friends uploaded new photo albums. After browsing the numerous pictures she remembered all the pictures that remained unposted from her recent vacation. But she decided to do that later. Right now there were more important tasks at hand.

Now she checked Twitter. A bunch of new people were following her. Not sure what they found so interesting and she had no idea who they actually were, but it was neat to have people want to know what she was up to. She thought up an interesting new tweet and posted it.

Now it was time to write. Oh wait. Hubby got paid today. Better check the bank account, pay a few bills and put money into the savings account before it all got spent. This suddenly reminded her that she had to go grocery shopping. After the recent vacation, the food supply was quickly diminishing as it had not yet been replenished properly. She peered out at the dreary day. If only she lived in a place where there was no rain and the sun shone everyday. An average daily temperature of 20 degrees would be perfect. But sadly, her fairy godmother had recently passed away and there was no way for her to get her hearts desire unless she were willing to give her soul over to the evil trolls that lived down the road. However, after several consecutive days of rain she was tempted.

But it was time to write. Even just a few words. Enough to be able to say she had accomplished something. She was tapped for ideas. Maybe there was inspiration to be found in some of her friends blog posts. Switching over to Blogger she checked her dashboard to see who had recently posted new material. Not much yet. It was still too early or the middle of the night in other parts of the world. Well maybe she should update her blog. Write something fun and entertaining, maybe even satirical to make the mornings of her fellow bloggers. Make them smile just a little bit as they start their day. Or perhaps give them a little something to muse before they tuck themselves into bed.

But what could she write that would make people laugh? She wasn't a comedienne. Humour was not a natural part of her writing like some others she knew. There was no need to be sentimental. Enough tears were already falling from the heavens.

Think, think, think. Happily ever after stories don't really exist...so it needs to be something just amusing. Life related? Writing related? Mommy related?

She rested her chin in her palm and stared at the cursor as it blinked off and on...

Griping Over The Shinning Sun

On occasion I review manuscripts for other writers either because they asked me or because it's part of a workshop that I happen to be doing at the time. It's the latter that has me a little peaved this morning. Now I know that spelling mistakes are common. You can either have completely misspelled words that are picked up by your spell checker or on occasion you spell something wrong but because the error is actually a word the spell checker doesn't detect it. Sometimes I can overlook these errors because I know the writer is working on the first draft and probably raced through getting the particular scenes on paper. Don't get me wrong, I know I probably make the same mistakes often. What gets me though, is that the writer doesn't spell it incorrectly just once. It's repeatedly the same error which leads me to believe they just don't know how to spell the word. The biggest ones I have come across lately are griping instead of gripping. It's only one extra p needed but over and over, the p is forgotten. I don't know that there is a solution to the problem. If the spell checker doesn't get it and it's actually a word, I guess in the long run hopefully an editor or copyeditor will pick it up.

Another one that really bugs me is shinning instead of shining. Shinning means to run or walk briskly, shining, well we know what shining means. When it's written that the sun is shinning, I have this mental picture of the sun racing across the sky like in movies when they're trying to show the quick transition between day and night, or even on the weather channel when they show the time lapse weather conditions. 9 times out of 10, I have never seen someone actually mean the sun is shinning.

Just one of my little pet peeves. And feel free, in the future to pick up on any of my mistakes that come through on my blog posts or if you happen to be reading bits of my manuscript, please, don't hold back.

A Little Change is Good

Working on the fresh new look of my blog. Have to say I am pretty pleased with some of the new offerings with Blogger. More templates to choose from, special pages to be added. Makes it look a little more up to date.

In other news, I am happy to announce...that I wrote nearly 3000 words today. I am so behind on my novel that I figured it was time to finally put the pedal to the metal (so to speak) and get myself caught up. Plus there are some upcoming writing projects that demand my attention. So I am working on a schedule that allows me to get some writing in everyday and keep the house clean and supper cooked and still time to go to work. Ha. Never thought I would see the day that I would say I have to make time for work.

Life really is good. I have a slightly new outlook since my holidays. I have come back much more relaxed and I have been sleeping. Ok, that could be somewhat jetlag related but I don't feel jetlagged. Well, jetlag or not, I really need to get rid of these dark circles under my eyes that have been growing for the last couple of years.

Now I must go start working on dinner so that the hubby and daughter have something to eat tonight while I am at work. This is technically the first day back. Should be interesting to see what's waiting for me. I'm thinking it might be a busy night.

Cheers.

On the Last Day

We rested. Or semi-rested. The last full day of holidays has arrived and I am sitting here listening to the wind swoosh through the trees and the clouds are covering the blue in a thick film of grey. But there is no rain. 

A constant chatter around the table is mostly a garbled jumble of Dutch words that I don’t understand. Save for the occasional word that I have become accustomed to and the occasional English when my husband talks to me. While the conversations go on, I sit at the table amid all the people and type away. No one really notices, I don’t think, since I can’t converse all that well with them anyway. It’s these times that I think I should really take Dutch lessons soon. Not that I would become fluent in the language but at least I would understand a little more of it and be able to communicate a little better. But I don’t have that advantage right now, so instead, I drink wine and eat cheese. Can’t go wrong there.

It’s a 9 hour flight home tomorrow that I have mixed emotions about. I really want to get home and get back to my routine that I don’t think I ever fully appreciated before. But there is comfort in the familiar. I am anxious to get home but I am not looking forward to the flight. After the semi-meltdown of my daughter on the trip over, I have a fear that it will be the same or worse on the way home. And there are the goodbyes at the airport tomorrow. Tears will be shed, kisses will be given and then we will say good bye with no idea when we will be back. My husband seems to have no intentions of coming back anytime soon but the people here are hoping for more. Maybe next year or the year after. I think I have my work cut out for me to convince him that we need to come back. It’s the right thing to do. But hubby can be stubborn.

Regardless, I know there is no avoiding the inevitable. What will be will be. My poor cat is probably at home, hiding under the bed, wondering where everyone is. No human contact for the last couple of weeks except for my bros occasional visit to refill the food and water bowls. And hopefully clean the litter box.

Well, the next post will more than likely be from the comfort of home, when the jetlag has me awake way too early but with nothing else to do at that time of the morning.

Sounds of Rain

I’ve never noticed before just how many different sounds the rain makes. It rains more in some places than in others so if you’re used to it, you just may not stop to take notice. And if you do, depending on where you happen to be at that time, it sounds different. The soft constant tap on a plastic cover over a patio sounds different than the steady drum of water on metal as you sit in your car. And again, the rain through the trees in the Amazon Rainforest, I imagine, sounds much different than the rain against the leaves of the tree in your back yard.

If you’re in a great mood and nothing can bring you down, the soft pitter-patter of rain on the streets is going to feel melodic and alluring. Watching the rain race towards the gutters can bring a serenity to the already relaxed. On the other hand, if your day is born of misery, that soft drizzle may actually feel like a thousand tiny pins being bore into your head as you race from your car to dryness of the grocery store.

I have encountered a lot of rain the last few days. And each day it seems to sing a different song. The first few days in Holland the rain was more of a nuisance than anything else. We wanted to be out exploring and enjoying our time here and to those in Calgary that hide indoors when it rains, it just was not what we wanted to see. Along with the rain, obviously comes clouds. Clouds are mostly grey and grey to the majority of people is depressing. Neither white nor black, it lies in between, emotionless. But yet we convey strong emotions at the sight of that low lying cloud cover that brings drizzle, downpours and even thunder and lightning.

After a few days of dreariness that of course didn’t keep us indoors because we’re on holidays and if we stayed cooped up all day long we would have killed each other, and the fact that even though it rains a lot here, it’s warm. Muggy. But warm. We had a few days of glowing, searing, hot sunshine. The clear blue windless skies were welcomed. We smiled and of course complained that it was so hot but we enjoyed it nonetheless. We really are never happy are we. Too hot, too cold, too muggy, I’m sweating. Whatever. You never here, I am absolutely perfect. But that’s the way it is and that’s the way it’s always going to be.

Now the last few days have been full of rain. Scattered showers I believe we call it at home in Canada. Where it rains for a few minutes, stops and warms up and then just when you think it’s done, it rains again. Just a little more for good measure. To remind you it’s still there. But again, it didn’t stop us from doing anything at all. Even today when it rained quite a bit. I was out trudging through the second largest Canadian War Cemetery in the Netherlands. I don’t think it could have been any other way. It was the perfect day as I stood beneath a tree staring out at a field of white stones, and listened to the rain crackle like fire through the leaves and branches that protected me.

Greetings from Holland

So we have been in the land of windmills and wooden shoes for a little over a week already. My how time flies. It has been great seeing all the family again and a lot of family for the first time. Everyone is thrilled to death over Julianne as I knew they would be. Especially Oma and Opa. Except for their regularly scheduled visits over webcam on Friday afternoon (well afternoon for us in Canada but late at night for them over in Holland) this is the first time Oma is getting to hold and cuddle her first born grandchild. It's great to see that light in her eyes each time Julianne does something funny or cuddles with her and it pains me to see the sadness that overcomes her when she realizes that we will be leaving soon. Just this evening she mentioned we were only here for about 5 more days and I could see she was holding back the tears. In some ways I feel bad because I have taken her son away to another country even though I know it was totally his choice to move. And then on the other hand if he had never met me and moved to Canada then the chances are really good that he would not have any grandchildren for her. At least not from him. So which is worse? That she can't see her grandchild all the time or that she didn't have one at all? I wish I had the answer. All I know for sure is that when we leave on Saturday there are going to be many tears shed. And not just from Oma. Julianne has taken so well to both her grandparents, I really don't think she is going to be happy to say goodbye. She's even learning things while here. She has learned how to blow kisses. Even with the kissing sound effects. It's adorable. She has learned to bark like a dog and all to rev like a car. There are little woof woofs followed by vroooooooooom. And she is just plain happy. She has only thrown one temper tantrum in the whole time we have been here and that was one night when she was extremely overtired. Other than that, she has been an absolute dream. If only she were like that all of the time. *sigh*

We have also seen some pretty amazing stuff while here. One day we went to this a little town in Germany called Monschau which really reminded me of Banff. It's a little town nestled in the mountains that if you were not really looking for it you would probably miss it. Absolutely beautiful. Surrounded by trees and streams it's a little hideaway and completely packed full of tourists. Cobblestone roads just like you see in the movies guide you through a maze of shops and homes and in the centre of the town is an old monestary. Then way up on a hill overlooking the town is what used to be a castle but now is used as a youth hostel. Monschau is apparently well known for their glassmaking shops and mustard. All different types of mustard. We never actually found the mustard factory but we did see the glass shop and holy cow, there are some amazing things done with glass.

Later we visited a nearby concentration camp. Kamp Vught was one of four camps situated in the Netherlands during the Second World War. Used primarily as holding camps for those to be transported to Auschwitz in Poland or one of the others in Germany there were still many people killed. Usually by execution. This particular camp saw a little over 700 people killed during the war. But if it hadn't been for the allied forces coming in when they did it could have been a lot worse. Thankfully this one had only been started in early mid to late 1944 and was shut down in early 1945. (my dates could be slightly off here). Though little of it stands today what we did see was enough to bring tears to your eyes and your heart feel heavy. Seeing the remains of where many atrocities were committed makes you feel very fortunate to be Canadian. Afterwards, through the help of my handy translator (husband) I discovered that my father-in-laws father actually worked security at this particular camp. He was no where near a German supporter but in order to put food on the table for his family he was forced to do what needed to be done so he worked for the Germans, not with the Germans. Each night he would sneak food out of the camp and take it to the mayor and his family. He did this until the camp was shut down without getting caught. After the war was finally over and the Dutch were able to start getting back on their feet, his father was rewarded by the mayor for doing what he did. He was given a house and money and work.

The rest of our trip thus far has been mostly visiting with family and Arie has been catching up with old friends. Oh and I have done a bit of shopping. Tomorrow is a kid filled day as we are taking Julianne to an amusement park. Should be a lot of fun.

Until later...

The Day is Finally Here...Well Almost

Officially one more sleep until we board a plane to embark on a nine hour flight to Holland, with a toddler. I can't even begin to describe how anxious this makes me. Not the flying part. I've done it before. But never with a child, much less a child that just recently began throwing 20 minute temper tantrums. The only relief I have is the reminder that I am not doing it alone.

So the suitcases have finally made their way out of the closet. After a little discussion with myself, yes I tend to talk to myself whenever the need strikes, I even opened them. And what do you know, once they were opened it actually wasn't that hard to start filling them. It's far from being done but at least there has been progress.

And it was the perfect day to start. Nevermind the fact that we leave tomorrow. But only in Calgary does it snow at the end of May. Yes you heard me right. It's freaking snowing. What started off as a deluge of rain, those REALLY big drops that will soak through all your clothes before you've even made it the fifteen feet to your car, has now turned to a downpour of heavy wet snow. I really should move to a different climate. This is ridiculous. I want to be someplace where it's 20 degrees all year round. Does this place exist?

Well, diaper duties call. The next blog entry will be from the other side of the world.

Too Tired to Think Straight...

Each day I am reminded how much age plays a part in our well-being. Ever since the last few weeks of my pregnancy, I have had trouble sleeping. Well not so much trouble sleeping as trouble going to bed. If I try to go to bed at a reasonable hour I lay in bed for hours, staring at the ceiling or thinking about everything that may have transpired during the day or what could transpire in the future. So to avoid laying in bed wide awake I stay up trying to be productive. After everyone has gone to bed is the best time for me to get some writing done or do anything on the computer for that matter. Before I know it it's almost 2am and I know I have to go to bed because Julianne will be awake earlier than I want. So I finally make it to bed  in the early hours of the morning, and still I lay awake for at least an hour or more. Then what do you know, the little one is awake and I am forced to get away and try to make breakfast in a foggy haze. Or like this morning, drive the hubby to work in the same foggy haze. Everything comes out as a mumble this early in the morning. The words I say and the words the hear. All sound like blah, blah, blah. And I get cranky. Partly because I can't hear straight, partly because I can't talk straight so it's easier just to bark and moan. Even though I know it doesn't please anyone else. Hell it doesn't please me either. I would much rather still be snuggled cozy in the bed.
So what's on the list of things to do today? As little as possible if I can manage it. There is going to be enough to do in the coming days as we get ready for our holidays. I really should start making that so-called list of things to pack. But I suck at lists. I seem to think I can remember everything I need and most of the time I can, but lately, the mind has been slipping just a little bit and something gets forgotten, which of course wouldn't if I just made a list.

Cranky Day

Not sure what's up with me today. I woke up seemingly in a good mood and then Bam! Just like that I was uber cranky. There is no logical reason for me to be this way. Julianne has been whiny today though. The whinier she gets the crankier I get. And while I am trying to sort the laundry she is getting into everything. Most days I am pretty patient, but today for some reason, it is just driving me crazy. It's not lost on me though that it's very possibly she's whiny and cranky because I am whiny and cranky and not the other way around.
The hubby just wants to clean and he wants to throw everything out. Things that have been important to me for many years but since we moved still remain in boxes. I know that if I haven't used them in a long time then I probably don't need them but there are just some things I don't want to part with. Books are a big one. I have a VERY hard time getting rid of books. And I know I collect more and more all the time. I probably have as many unread books as read books. But it's not the point. They are books and I love them so why should I have to get rid of them? But on the flip side, I hate clutter. Most of these books were in the storage closet underneath tons of other stuff. I wanted to grab them so I could sort through them but as soon as I open the storage room door I get this knot in my stomach and all ambition is gone.
He did get my books though and I made sure he didn't do anything with them. I sorted some and then I am going to sort the others and try and get them all organized. You should have seen the look I got when I asked him to take them to the bedroom. He knew that I would probably leave them there for the next few weeks or months and typically yes I probably would. But because of that look, I know I better do it today and prove him wrong.
Well must go get the laundry. Only number 3 load of 6. It's gonna be a long day. Ugh.

Me? Prolific?

Well what do you know? I just received another blog award. Thanks so much to Clarissa over at Listen to the Voices who apparently finds me to be 'prolific'. I don't know that I actually agree but hey, who am I to argue? There are days and days that I go without blogging, there are days and days I go without doing much of anything at all. Completely unproductive. That's me. Although I am exhausted by the end of the day so I must have done something. I prolifically sat on the couch. I prolifically chased around a toddler. Prolifically responded to emails and played around on Facebook. I guess there are some things that I have an overabundance of. But I would not say that time is one of them.

But, I digress. If someone believes me to be prolific, then I better start proving them right. Earn that award. Oh, I think I get it now. I was given the award, like one would get an advance on a novel. Now I must produce something. Prove my worthiness.

Shoot! I can feel the eyes upon me now.

Oh part of this award is to pass it on to other people that I find worthy, or not. It really doesn't matter. I could keep it all to myself. But, I am way past the not-sharing phase so...

Drum roll please.

1. Apryl at So F*cking Fabulous I Piss Glitter just because I love her and everything she has to say. It's a tough world out there and she tells it how she sees it.
2. Dan at Such is Life because he is one of the funniest guys I know and if anyone is prolific, it's him. Never misses a day, except for Saturday. If you check out his blog, you'll know what I mean.
3. Susan at Accidental Poet because I love what she has to say and she inspires me.
4. Dawn at Dawning because she has some good stuff to say.

And, I think I will stop there just because the little one is sitting on the couch, trying to read but she is sounding like a siren. Literally. One of the funniest things I have ever seen and at the same time, very bloody annoying. So I guess I need to pull over to let the little emergency vehicle pass. (ok, probably one of the lamer metaphors I have come up with lately...but go with it.)

Stick the Knife in a Little Deeper

What is a rejection but a little stab in the back? Something to deflate your ego just a little more. I have had my fair share of rejections but it is offset by a few acceptances now and again. But it's funny how one rejection, no matter how kind it is, can make you forget about the previous acceptances. It reminds me a little of relationships and how women never forget the wrongs of the man, no matter how many rights he does afterwards to make up for it.

The thing we have to try and remember about rejections is that it's not that the writing was bad, but that there were far more better ones and when there are only x number of spots available and xxx number of submissions, the odds go down considerably. And there is no magical formula to ensure that yours stands out above the rest. Plus, remember that these are ordinary people sifting through piles and piles of submissions and what one person likes another may not. If you wrote an amazing love story about how you and your significant other met and fell in love and it was one of the most masterfully crafted pieces of work you've ever produced, so good that any editor would be foolish to turn down, but that editor just went through a nasty breakup or divorce, they are not going to look at your work for the craft. Instead, they are more likely to stick their finger down their throat and...well you know the rest.

If I felt qualified to offer advice, the only thing I would say is not to give up hope. To keep trying. Because eventually someone out there will see your masterpiece for what it is.

Another person once told me, that for every rejection you are that much closer to an acceptance. Like crawling across the desert in search of water, only to be fooled by mirage after mirage but eventually, that mirage with not evaporate and you will find yourself face down in a wonderful pool. Wierd analogy but something that just came to me. Aww...the magic of just letting your fingers do the talking.

I just received a letter from a well known Canadian literary magazine that was neither a rejection or an acceptance. It was a nice little note asking me to be patient as the selection committee had far more submissions to go through than expected. Of course as soon as I saw it, my heart sunk to my stomach at first. I tried to read it without skipping ahead to find those familiar words of what a great submission it was but due to the shear volume of quality submissions they could not publish at this time. To my surprise, this particular letter did not contain those words. But I am sure in the next couple of months that one will appear. In the meantime, all I can do is wait and keep submitting to other magazines. Of course now that I am on a poetry kick, that may be the genre I focus on for awhile.

 I do have an idea for a story that has been swirling around in my mind for a little while but I have yet to figure out how to start it or even if it should be a story or poem. I may try it from both sides and see what happens. I am leaning towards poetry only because the one line I have is more of a metaphor but a story can use metaphors just as nicely as a poem. Just much more subtly.

Ok, must stop here before my ramblings go off on some other tangent.

About Stepping Out of Your Comfort Zone

It's a part of human nature. Do what makes you feel comfortable. Resist change at all costs. But isn't there a line that needs to be crossed for us to continue to grow and develop and learn new things about ourselves?

I am a prose writer. A writer of short fiction and ambitious enough to attempt the novel. Recently I even dove into the area of creative non-fiction and I think this is what really gave me that final push to confront that nemesis, poetry.

The non-fiction class forced me to delve into a side of me that I was hiding from through fiction. It made me open up and brought the realization that those things, good or bad, that happen in life, need a voice and sometimes that voice does not have to be made up. So in comes poetry. Much the same as non-fiction, it comes from the heart. It delves into that emotional side that so many of us keep hidden. And for what reason? Are we afraid to face the facts or are we afraid to share those facts with others?

Many feel that writing is cathartic. A gentle release of all those pent up feelings that you just can't share with others.

Some just like to write. To make up stories and share them with the world. Or hope to share them with the world. I have heard many say that writers write because they have something to say.

Where was I? Comfort zone...poetry. Right.

I have been afraid of poetry for as long as I can remember. From early years in school, whether I was forced to read it or write it, I just could not wrap my head around it. This thing called metaphor. Say something without really saying it. I was forced to actually think and my goodness, did my brain ever hurt. Then I began to attend poetry readings. At first listening to it just made me nauseous. You know, that queasy feeling when you're really bored or anxious? I didn't want to have to think. Give me a good story where everything is spelled out for me, something that I don't have to look deeper for that hidden meaning. What is the poet REALLY trying to say? As far as I knew, only the writer knew and isn't that really all that mattered? Why do I have to rip this poems apart, line by line and look for something. What I get out of it is going to be completely different than what another gets out of it. For the most part at least.

As much as it made me feel ill, I still attended these readings. Mostly they were short story readings with a sprinkling of poetry. I could live with that. At one of these readings, I heard a poem by a man that I now deeply respect as a writer, poet and person, and it changed poetry for me. I suddenly got it. I still don't know what it was that stood out to me. His presentation, the poem itself, something deeper that just struck a chord? It didn't really matter. I even started reading poetry. But I still did not attempt to write it.

So back to the non-fiction class. When I realized I could open up a little and let my true self show, I suddenly realized that maybe I could write a poem. So, like a newborn taking its first tentative steps, I enrolled in a poetry class. What I have realized? It's not so bad and I am not half bad at it either. There is only one more class remaining and I have to say, it kind of saddens me. I have only just begun a journey that could end up being incredibly rewarding and I want more.

Who would of thought??

When life gets too hectic the things that seem to suffer are the things you enjoy doing the most. Why is that? Shouldn't your life be hectic and busy by being full of all the things you really like to do? Maybe even the things you love to do. I guess logically the first priority has to be on the things that make the money. So you put in extra time and then all the other deadlines that you don't get paid for suffer.

I want to go out and play in the sun with Julianne, but the house needs to get cleaned. It's gotten pretty bad even though my mom was just here and did some stuff. Seems the moment she left, it all went to disarray again. Partly because we actually did go out and do the fun stuff in the sun but also because work has started to take over, for both me and the hubby. Then there is the unexpected trips, all for money. For example, I had full intentions of doing a thorough cleaning in the morning, then a little grocery shopping and then when that was all done, go to the park with the little one. But instead, I get a phone call this morning asking if I want to go on a little road trip. Road trip sounds like a fun thing but in fact it was a delivery for my husband's company that was almost 3 hours of driving but I got paid for it, so why not? It's all for the money. Especially when you're going on vacation shortly so any extra money that can be made to add to the vacation fund is all good. But of course, nothing got done.

I had/have homework that needs to get done for the two classes I am taking right now. The poetry is done but I have to work on the novel too. I have a bit done for what I need for my class, but it's no where near complete and I should have submitted it for review by today. Unfortunately I don't thing that's gonna happen. It's midnight here and well, instead of writing I am blogging. So what's  up with that?

Julianne got her first scraped knee the other day. Then the next day, just as it's starting to scab over, she falls again and re-opens the wound. A couple days after that, she was at the park and wouldn't you know it, she fell again. It was a mess. Sad thing was they were on their way home. Just done with the playing and about to leave and she falls. Poor baby. I think it bothers me more than her though. The sight of the blood. I think she's in pain but really it doesn't seem to bother her, but I cringe and worry. Today the scab has just be cracking so there has been little beads of blood. I want to help her and clean it up, but she doesn't want me anywhere near that knee.  I think part of me expects that she should be sad and want  mommy or daddy to kiss it better but apparently that's not what's happening. This whole kid thing is a lot different than I could have suspected.  Oh and now she has started biting. So if anyone has any suggestions on how to stop that, I would really, really appreciate any suggestions.

Well that is my update for now.  Off to Holland in a few days, as long as the Iceland volcano does not interrupt our plans. Plan to blog as much as possibly while there. So stay tuned.

Proud To Be Canadian and other stuff...

Just when we thought we had it all figured out. That Canada is one of the most beautiful countries on the planet to live, that we are one of the more open-minded countries welcoming everyone into the folds. Just when we thought we already knew all the things that make this country so wonderful, something else comes along to remind us just how great it really is and just how lucky we are. May 5, 1945, Canada helped liberate the Netherlands. To free them from German occupation.
Now normally this would have been the kind of celebration that would have made me sit up and go, oh yeah, we did that. But now I have a little more invested considering my husband is from the Netherlands, my in-laws still live there and if it hadn't been for Canadian soldiers 65 years ago, I may never have met him.

Every year on November 11 I take the time to remember those that suffered and fought for us and for others and that pride I already possess grows stronger but now, there is another day I need to be greatful for, another to remember what great people live in this country.

Now time to ruin this post with my selfish thoughts. I'm getting ripped off this year. My birthday falls on Mother's Day. The last time this happened it was no big deal because I wasn't a mother but now...geez! I completely understand how those people that have birthdays on or around Christmas must feel. Both are great reasons to celebrate, but a birthday is supposed to be special for particular reasons and Mother's Day or Christmas is supposed to be special for other reasons, so when you have to share...how fair is that?
Ok, well it's not really that big a deal because I have never made a big deal out of birthdays anyway and I wasn't even going to add this part after reading a beautiful post by a dear friend and colleague about Mother's Day.  Go check out the Accidental Poet. You may never look at Mother's Day the same.

It's Finally Here

Well it's official. In the mail this morning I received my subscribed issue of Freefall magazine along with a second contributors copy. That's right. Contributor's copy. My book review on Stuart Ross's collection of short stories, Buying Cigarettes for the Dog is officially on the stands. (or all the places that the magazine goes). Though it's not my first publication, this is the first one that is going to a considerably large audience.

And in addition, I made another submission to a magazine. Most certainly nowhere near the goal I had of sending out one story a month  but at least it's something. I have some plans for some poems that I recently wrote too. Will see how that goes.

It's Been...

It's been 20 days since my last blog...oy...it sounds like I am at a sobriety meeting...BA...Blogaholics Anonymous. I suppose it is possible to become addicted to something like blogging. I think I was like that at first but as with many things, I take on too much and then something that I really like tends to suffer...so I have been on a hiatus.
No not really.  I've been sick and busy and then busy and sick. Thankfully life is beginning to smooth out a bit and I am no longer feeling completely overwhelmed.

So I am trying to get back to the blogging...sharing my most intimate, or not so intimate, thoughts with the blogger universe.  I just wish I had something interesting to write about. But really it's just the same old stuff every single day with the inclusion of little unexpected surprises from the little one. But that's not everyday.

Like the other day when Julianne fell asleep, face down on the floor, underneath her crib. Or how she has developed this need to be mostly naked. Stripping off her pants and diaper at the first opportunity. Or there was the other day when she started walking across the dining room, stopped part way, turned to me, waving her arms and babbling something completely incoherant and then continues toward the front door, stopping and doing it again and then straight for the door. I had this vision of her at 15 all mad at me about something and storming out the front door but not before getting in the last word  Good grief. I laugh now but later I may not think it's so funny. I just hope that if it does happen I can think back and remember that day.

Have I Found My Happy Place?

Snippet of conversation that occurred yesterday, somewhat paraphrased as I really can't remember the EXACT conversation.

S: BJ and I were just saying how happy you are.

Me: You were talking about me?

S: Yes. Your husband and child have really done wonders for you.

Me: I seem happy? (thinking a little about how I didn't seem happy before)

S: Yes.  Not that you weren't happy before.  Kind of like walking into a room you just finished tidying although you didn't think it was all that messy in the first place and exclaiming, Wow, this place really was a mess. Does that make sense?

Me: Yeah, I guess so.  (I smile and nod, of course it makes perfect sense)

Now I have been thinking about this conversation since then.  There was more to it but this snippet pretty much sums it up.  All the pertinent details so to speak. 

So what has changed in the last few years to have gotten me to this so called happy place?  A place we always dream of but for most of lives seems just beyond our fingertips. We can see it, but it eludes us when we try and reach out and take hold.  Hmmm...

Let's see.  Yes I got married.  Almost 3 years ago now.  Hubby and I were just talking about that.  Joking about how it seems like only yesterday.  Or were we?  I really couldn't ask for a better husband.  So calm and relaxed, just taking each day as it comes.  Not expecting too much and accepting me for me and trying to accept the things that interest me although I know at times it's hard for him to completely understand.  And he is such a wonderful and attentive father to our little girl.

Yes, that's right.  We had a baby just shy of our first anniversary.  This little girl has brought me so much joy and frustration.  But definitely more joy.  She has taught me that all that matters is what's here and now, right in front of you.  Well, hubby helped with that too cause that's just the way he is.

Along with the having the baby came the not having to work full time.  I don't have to battle rush hour traffic any more.  Nor will I ever again unless it's by choice.  I now have a flexible work schedule that allows me to remain home with my little girl and when I can't be here, Daddy is always there to take over.  It really is the perfect situation.  I wish everyone could have that much support.

I am writing again after a long break.  I had lost the motivation and drive to do what deep down I knew I really wanted to be doing.  Thanks to the wonderful support of other writerly friends I have found a renewed passion and am branching out to try new things.  I have always thought I was adventurous but really when it came right down to it, I would much rather sit at home and relax in the safety of my own little world.

Just this year I have fully come to terms with the circumstances of my childhood.  I never really thought it was impedeing me that much and honestly had thought that I was over it.  Ready to move on.  But every now and again little things would eke to the surface and questions would arise.  Questions that I thought were better left unsaid only because I wanted to continue to believe that it didn't bother me.  When those questions were finally set free and answered, it really did feel like a weight had been lifted.  I was left with a better understanding of the decisions that had been made and why they were made in that particular way.  I even cried.  Something that I don't think I had ever done before.  That was the key.  To recognize and then mourn the loss was more cathartic than I could have imagined. 

So I can't actually say that any one thing got me to this happy place, but if people think that I am there, then I will embrace that and say, yep, I guess I have really found it.

Now the challenge will be to actually stay there.

The Poet Within

Is it possible that everyone has a poet inside them?  I tiny little monster of a million different colours that sits idly on your shoulder just waiting for the right moment to interject a little colour and life into your writing?  To help release that right brain thinking? 

I suppose anything is possible.  One class down, only seven more to go.  It seems like such a long time but I am sure the time will fly by.

I actually did my homework already too.  Well at least a first, second and third draft.  Will probably go over it again several times before I share it with anyone.  More interesting is that just focusing on a different, more colourful project for awhile, actually got me in the right frame of mind to add more pages to my novel. 

Even though I have not discovered my setting, but it is leaning more and more toward Calgary, I was inspired.  I am now over 10,000 words.  Pretty good for me I would say.  The only discouraging part is that there are some sections that I already know I want to cut and other areas that I want to change.  So if I do it now, I will be back under 10,000 words.  I suppose I could just wait until I have 20,000 words then cut some then.  Or just do it now and make some of the other changes I wanted to and hopefully still stay over where I'm at now and add more at the same time. 

Now for another part of my homework.  Must go find a poem a day to read.  I hope my head doesn't explode.

Setting, Shmetting...

It's been recommended to me that I need to have an actual setting for my novel.  Personally I never thought it was all that important.  Leave it to the imagination of the reader.  But apparently it's kind of important to at least have some idea as to where all the events are taking place.  I am finding that this is more difficult than I thought. 
So far there are elements from every place I have ever lived but do you think I can actually pinpoint a specific location?  A location to actually name in my novel.  Some have told me that from what they have read so far they felt that it was taking place in Calgary and there are several instances where that is in fact true, but there are elements that I have taken from Kelowna, (where I lived for a long time) and some others that I have taken from Invermere, (another place I lived for a long time).  Some of the events wouldn't make sense or ring true if I made the location Invermere because it's a very small town compared to the other two.  And then there are only tiny elements from Kelowna.  I have to take things like climate into consideration and the differences in those specific places.  But because most of it does seem to take place in Calgary and because that's where I currently live, it seems that would be the natural choice.  But I hesitate about actually naming it Calgary.  Why is that? 
It was also suggested that I could make up a name for a city or town.  I am thinking about this but naming is not my best quality.  I suck at it, in fact.  I even have a hard time naming my characters, how on earth am I going to come up with a fake name for a city?
Ugh...ok well if anyone has any suggestions than please send them my way.  Maybe I will even give you credit for the suggestion.  :)

On another note...one of the things from my list, to do before I turn 40 was to take a poetry class and guess what?  That is coming to fruition.  Starting today and continuing for the next 8 weeks, I am enrolled in my first ever poetry class.  I can't really say how I feel about this.  Excited??  Scared as all hell?  I am totally stepping out of my comfort zone to do this.  Should be interesting. 

Will keep you posted.

We spent a couple of days with my Grandma in Invermere this past weekend.  Every time I go back there I have this weird nostalgia.  I grew up in this little BC mountain town and there are so many memories there but at the same time, some good, some not so good.  But each and every time there is this little bit of longing to return there and stay.  I do miss the small town living from time to time.  I remember how simple life seemed back then.  But I must not forget that I was also very young.  I didn't have to make decisions for myself.  I biggest concern was whether or not I was going to get to play with one of my friends on the weekend.  Or what to take to a sleep over. 
Not much family is there anymore.  A few of my old friends are still there.  In some ways the thought of going back and raising my little girl in a small town is appealing.  But small towns have their own problems.  Not the same as the big city that I currently live in but still problems. 
Arie likes the small town mentality as well.  But there is no work in this particular town that relies solely on tourism.  No big business to keep it thriving.  This is the same for most small towns, especially in BC, whose main source of income has been lumber for years but slowly every sawmill across the province is shutting down.  And so nothing is left. 
Then there is the problem of the taxes in that province.  There are currently two taxes on everything you purchase.  In Alberta there is only one.  And now BC is trying to bring in a third tax.  Ridiculous if you want to encourage people to come there, either to live or just to visit.   Food is already incredibly expensive compared to Calgary.  Or maybe it was just the fact that this is a small town and they can charge more cause there is no place else that close by to go.
Who knows?  I think that province is digging itself into a hole that they are not going to be able to climb out of.
So for now, I guess we will stay right where we are.  Our small corner of a big city, which is really not much different than living in a small town until you have to travel outside of it.

They Change Too Fast

I can't believe how much children change in the matter of a year.  This photo was taken Christmas 2008.  Julianne was a mere 4 months old.  At the time we thought she was the cutest thing on the planet.  I suppose

that's what parents are supposed to think about their children.  And she was actually pretty cute in this picture.  Pudge and all.  But as time went on she began to change.  To thin out, walk, and ultimately turn into a fiesty little girl.  And a comedienne she is becoming.  In the following photo taken just this afternoon, she saw me holding up the camera and started to make the same motions as I was.
Sometimes I miss that roly poly stage when she couldn't walk and relied on me to do everything for her.  Now that she is learning and trying to gain as much independance as she can, she is a little devil.  Temper

tantrums abound when she can't get her own way.  She needs your undivided attention all of the time. (When she's awake.  And that is becoming more and more frequent.)  Soon will come a day when she doesn't nap at all but I sure hope I can put that off as long as possible.  But nothing seems to ever go the way you want it to.  So you learn to take each day one at a time and try to enjoy it while you can.  I am beginning to learn that there are some things that are just able to wait until later to get done.  I have no choice.  I am the one that must adapt.
The fact that I am sometimes not as attentive to her as I should be, is becoming more and more apparent.  She favours her dad over me.  I try not to take it personally because I have heard this is common with little girls.  But it's hard not to.  She's fine when I am constantly playing with her, but as soon as I have to do something else I get the cold shoulder.
There are some days that I have to actually leave the house for work.  On those days she spends the day with Daddy and when I come home it's almost as if I don't exist.  Sure she seems excited as soon as I walk in the door but it quickly changes.  Then there are the days that I am gone pretty much all day so I don't see her at all and come the next day, like today, everything is about Daddy.  You would almost think that I am the one that works full time and not him.
I hope it's just a phase.  I do take some solace in the fact that when she's sick, I am the one she tends to come to.  But that's not very often.  *sigh*

(Ok I know this post was written on Wednesday but if you hop over to http://www.mycup2yours.com/ and read the comment I left on her post last night, you will understand why I am pretending it was written on Thursday.) 

When you don't know what to write, I've been told that you should just start typing and let whatever you want to fall onto the page.  So that's what I'm doing right now.  Nothing of much interest has happened in the last few days. Nothing that I would find interesting enough to write a whole blog post about at least.  So now I am just writing and trying to find something interesting as I go.  It's not working.  Not so far. 

An apartment condo caught fire the other day.  The same day that I finally made it to the Passport office to apply for passports for Julianne and myself.  I was sitting in the lobby of the office and several fire trucks went flying by.  As is the norm, I figured it was nothing.  However, when I came out of the building nearly a half hour later I see thick black smoke and flames billowing from a building not too far away.

I took a little drive by to get a closer look as we do have some family that lives in that area.  Thankfully it was actually across the street from where they live.  However, what was happening was still not exactly the best sight to see.
There is something strange about fire.  Whenever I see it, I get mildly excited.  It's not that there is extreme destruction going on at that particular time but there is something oddly beautiful about thick billowing smoke.  I remember when I was kid, there was a hotel that caught on fire and I was completely in awe of the way the smoke looked, like fluffy dark clouds flying into the sky.
This condo complex was just built a couple of years ago.  Now over 300 people are homeless and they're saying that there is so much damage to the building that it will have to be demolished.  I couldn't imagine how it feels to lose everything you own.  And for what?  Because someone didn't extinguish a cigarette properly.  Can you believe it?  I can I guess.  It's the first thing I thought when I saw the fire. It's always blamed on a smoker.  But the fact remains that it usually has something to do with the careless extinguishing of cigarette butts.  Amazing how expensive one little mistake can become.
It took firefighters nearly 24 hours to get the last of the hot spots.  But they got it under control.  There are actually two other buildings in this complex and it didn't look like they got touched so for that they have to be somewhat thankful.  I don't know if I would want to stay there though.
It was also one of the windiest days this month.  No wonder the fire spread as fast as it did. 

These were the best pictures I could find online. They are not my photos so I cannot take credit for any of them.  I do wish I had my camera with me when I saw it though.  If only...

Changing Diapers

Unaware, she dances around the room, giggling and twirling, squealing in delight.  Completely oblivious to the growing cushion in her pants.  But I am not.  Through the little pink pants, I see the sponge swelling from moisture upon moisture.  I glance at the clock and know that it's time. 
A soft pink hand, so fragile and delicate, full of little white bones that could be crushed with just slightly too much pressure, wraps around my thumb and we toddle together into the bedroom.
Although she is not fully aware of the meaning behind this activity, she knows that something is about to change.  That she will receive a little more comfort.
She flops on the bed, content and watching, but yet still so adamant for independance that she helps remove the thin cloth shell that protects delicate skin beneath.  Before I have the chance to unfasten the adhesive strips, she rips them away like band-aids.  I slip the soiled diaper from under her bum and she laughs.  Kicks at the new found freedom.  With a warm damp cloth, I wipe away the tiny remnants that remain unabsorbed by the cotton shell.  I dry the moisture, further cleaning her fragile skin. 
Tiny red dots remain, a reminder of the invisible particles that manage to cling to her bottom.  Despite every effort , I know I can never fully fix everything.
White cream, thick and soothing, is applied to her exposed parts, an attempt to further sooth any potential discomfort.  But she kicks and rolls, resisting my tender touch.
We struggle, we laugh until the change is complete, then she rolls off the bed, feet firmly planted on the floor and then she races from the room, squealing in delight.
I stand alone in the middle of the room, holding a damp cloth in one hand and the weight of one little girl in the other.  Completely aware that soon she will do this on her own.

Word Association: Metaphorically Speaking

I am taking a weekend workshop on metaphors.  How to use them, when to use them.  Thought I would share a few exercises just for the sake of having something to write.  I have included a description of the exercise and then what I came up with in the short span of time allotted to write.

1. Close your eyes and envision death.  What is the first image that comes to mind?  Think about it, see it, then write what you see...5 minutes.  Don't overthink...just free write.

Death
The reaper stands over his body, scythe in hand, waiting for the precise moment to swing, severing the last life strings of his being.  Strings so badly frayed that they hang by a single thread.  One more abuse of the already fragile body will snap the breath from him and the reaper will have captured his pray.

But he is patient.  In his dark robes, head cloaked, he lurks in the shadows.

2. Same as above but this time envision happiness.

Happiness
Is a child squealing in delight at the kitten that scurries past,or the squirrels skittering up the rugged tree trunk.  A child, who for no one else, is herself.  Able to relish the beauty in a tainted world.  The beauty that most take for granted.  She is the freedom that we all desire.  That we all felt once, but soon became shackled by the chains of life.

3. Again the same as above but this time, what is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of self?

Self
In the breeze outside my window, tiny leaves dance on the currents.  A joyful song that no one else can hear.  It skitters and floats, just beyond your grasp, constantly eluded by a graceful swing and a twist.  You reach again, wanting so desperately to touch even the rough nubbed end of the stem but you miss and fall to your knees.


Give it try.  Share if you like.

The Polish Divorce

The Polish Divorce



A Polish man moved to the USA and married an American girl.
Although his English was far from perfect, they got along very well.
One day he rushed into a lawyer's office and asked him if he could arrange a divorce for him.

The lawyer said that getting a divorce would depend on the circumstances, and asked him the following questions:

Have you any grounds?
Yes, an acre and half and nice little home.

No, I mean what is the foundation of this case?
It made of concrete.

I don't think you understand. Does either of you have a real grudge?
No, we have carport, and not need one.

I mean what are your relations like?
All my relations still in Poland .

Is there any infidelity in your marriage?
We have hi-fidelity stereo and good DVD player.

Does your wife beat you up?
No, I always up before her.

Is your wife a nagger?
No, she white.

Why do you want this divorce?
She going to kill me.

What makes you think that?
I got proof.

What kind of proof?
She going to poison me. She buy a bottle at drugstore and put on shelf in bathroom. I can read English pretty good, and it say:

~~~Polish Remover~~~

Sorry, couldn't resist! 

Irish Joke

Paddy had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and most of the night celebrating St Patrick's Day. Mick, the bartender says, 'You'll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy'.
Paddy replies, 'OK Mick, I'll be on my way then'. Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off.. He falls flat on his face. 'Shoite' he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face,
'Shoite, Shoite !'
He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and some fresh air he'll be fine. He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the sidewalk and falls flat on his face.
'Bi'Jesus.... I'm fockin' focked,' he says.
He can see his house just a few doors down, and crawls to the door, hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door and shimmies inside.. He takes a look up the stairs and says 'No fockin' way'. He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says 'I can make it to the bed'. He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He says 'Fock it' and falls into bed.
The next morning, his wife, Jess, comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, 'Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night ?'
Paddy says, 'I did, Jess. I was fockin' pissed. But how'd you know?'
'Mick phoned . . . you left your wheelchair at the pub.'

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!

Many cities across Canada have already passed laws prohibiting cell phone usage while operating a motor vehicle.  But Calgary has not joined that list yet.  Drivers in this city are already aware that it's a danger, it's distracting and simply put, it's just plain stupid.  So you would think if it's looked upon as being stupid or irresponsible, then certain groups/individuals would refrain from using them in an attempt to set an example. 

This afternoon I was driving on one of the busiest Calgary roads.  Actually I think it's actually the most traveled road in the city, technically spanning from southern Alberta to northern Alberta.  Yeah, that's right, it's a highway, but within our city limits it's known as Deerfoot Trail.  Drivers abhor it, steer clear of it if at all possible, but if you happen to live in the northeast or southeast quadrants of Calgary, it's virtually impossible to avoid.  Extra care needs to be paid when speeding along at a maximum posted speed of 100km/hr, which incidentally is always ignored. 

So I merge onto Deerfoot Trail from my own little corner of the city to find myself behind a Calgary City Police van.  Not usually a big deal except that the driver, who unless the vehicle was stolen is a police officer, is swerving slightly over the line, then over-correcting and veering into the other lane.  I pull back, unsure of what the heck he was doing.  The van slows down, speeds up a little, then slows again.  I am behind a driver who at most times, is not doing anymore than 70km/h, but at other times speeds over 100.  I pull back further, annoyed, because I need to get past this guy but I have to stay within the limits of the law, don't I? 

There is finally a break and I manage to pull around him.  As I come up on the side of this white and blue vehicle I can see the officer in his sideview mirror, talking on a cell phone.  I was shocked.  First thoughts of course were maybe it was an important call, maybe it was the office, but they do have radios for that kind of stuff so I was more inclined to believe it was a personal call.  What the hell???  This isn't right, is it?  They can't make their own rules separate from the rules set for the rest of the city.  Ok, as I said the rules aren't set, but they are implied and they should be leading by example.

So, I get around the cop to only be held up by another slow moving vehicle.  This time, it's just the average car, doing no more than 70km/hr in a 100km/h zone.  The driver is holding up three other vehicles besides mine.  Thankfully, this road is a three lane highway so I manage to pull around.  But as I pass, I see that the driver is an elderly man, talking on his cell phone. 

Quite frankly, since it's not illegal to drive and talk on a phone, if you can't maintain a normal driving speed, then pull the hell over.  Seriously, what is so damn important that the call can't wait until you reach your destination?? 

An Unknown Illness

Children can be so resilient.  Even when you know they are not quite themselves, they can plod on, oblivious to the fact that they should be curled up in the arms of their parents, resting and just being loved in their time of need.
Sunday morning Julianne woke up with a bit of a fever.  Not really anything to be concerned about.  I gave her a little infant Tylenol and she went on with the day, much the way she normally would.  Jumping, squealing, rearranging the furniture...
Monday much the same.  Although you could tell that now the fever was taking a toll on her.  She took an earlier nap that usual and longer than usual.  Woke up sweating and a little cranky.  She was fed and then on with her normal day.
Today...the fever spiked.  To me, an alarming 101.4.  And she was much more sluggish.  Hardly ate anything all morning, but did drink a lot.  She curled up in my arms for most of the morning.  Gave her more Tylenol and down for a nap.  She slept really well for a couple of hours.  Even though the fever was pretty much non-existant by the time she woke from her nap, she was sluggish and cuddly.  But that finally wore off and she became her usual active self.  A little cranky, but that is not entirely unusual either.  And she ate a pretty good dinner.  But by 6:30 this evening, she was stumbling around, rubbing her eyes.  Evident that she was tired we decided to put her down to sleep although it probably means she will either wake in the middle of the night or she will be awake really early.  Oh the sacrifices we have to make as parents.  Either way, I think the fever has broken.  There was no other evidence of anything wrong with her.  No diarrhea, no vomiting, for the most part still just as energetic as ever.  But something is swimming around in her little body, causing her immune system to fight back.  Some unknown little virus.  But my little fighter won't let it get the better of her.

 

I am having another one of those days when I know I should write but I just can't seem to find a topic of interest.  To hell with it being interesting to my audience, I couldn't even come up with something interesting to me.  So I decided to catch up on some of my blogs since I have been a little absent for the last little while and see if I could borrow or steal someone else's idea. 

And what do you know...Genny over at My Cup 2 Yours has Talking About Thursdays and I sure do love a good prompt.  Plus her theme today is to talk about your favourite blog(s).  Nothing better than boosting up some friends in the bloggie world, although there are days that I struggle to find anything nice to say about anyone.  Nothing personal...because there's lots of great stuff out there.  It's just that when you really sit down to think, what makes this person REALLY special, sometimes a cloud passes over and blocks any rays of sunshine from getting through.  Today is one of my cloudy days.  Probably having to do with the fact that I fell asleep curled up in our recliner and slept in the fetal position all night long.  I am just not as flexible as I used to be.

There are too many that I really like but I don't have the time nor the energy to write something great about them all so I am going to pick only one....

Drum roll please....

So F*cking Fabulous I Piss Glitter  The name says it all.  The sarcasm is beautiful.  Apryl is a single mother struggling to just get by in an unsympathetic world.  Her rants and frustrations are beautifully crafted to make you laugh, cry or sometimes just say...WTF?  And then just when you think she has hit rock bottom, she picks herself up and starts all over again.  Sometimes she even throws in a little poetry just to keep you on your toes.  So if you're up for riding that roller coaster with her, go check it out. 

If you want to join in Talking About Thursdays, click the image at the top of this post for more details.  Write your post and then link to the blog hop on Genny's site. 

Here's to a happy day.  The sun is shining, temperatures are supposed to come close to the double digits today...did I mention I love spring?

Just When I Thought I Had Nothing To Say...

Just when I thought I had nothing to say, along comes Apryl from So F*cking Fabulous I Piss Glitter and I get an award.  Heck, I got 2 awards at one time.  Look at me go!  So thank you, Apryl.  You're the best.

Now I have some RULES I am supposed to follow.

The Rules

1. Thank the person that nominated you; link to the person that gave you the award.

2. Pass this award on to 15 bloggers you've discovered and think are fantastic.

3. Contact said blogs and let them know, they've won.

4. State 7 things about yourself.

Now on to 7 things about myself that no one in the Bloggie world knows. Or very few at least.  This is not as easy as it sounds.  Especially when you want to make it funny or inspiring or just plain ridiculous.  I fear ridiculous is going to be the theme here.  Some of my crazy little quirks that I tend to keep to myself.  But I suppose instead of rambling I should get to the meat of the issue. 

1. You know that crinkly sound a plastic bag makes when you touch it, or you're emptying groceries or garbage, or cleaning the litter box?  Well, that sound makes my skin crawl as if just touching the bag releases a nest of a million little ants that are now climbing all over my body.  Some people can't stand fingers down a chalkboard or to touch cardboard...

2. I once walked down the full length of a ski hill.  Skis in one hand, poles in the other.  It's a lot further than it looks from the bottom.

3. I have some of the smelliest feet around.  For a girl at least.  The fact that I hate to wear socks and my feet sweat profusely has led to the early destruction of many pairs of shoes.

4. I am a walking contradiction.  It's said that most people are multi-dimensional.  But sometimes I even think I am full of crap.  I hate disorganization...it makes me feel out of control, disoriented.  But yet, some days I just let things lay where they land.  And for days...until someone else cleans up the mess or I get so frustrated and then act all irritated like it's someone elses fault.

5.  One time when I was sick and too weak to walk to the bathroom, I peed in my cat's litter box.

6.  I regret very few things in my life.  The decisions I have made have molded me into the person I am today and I don't mind that person at all.  But if I had the chance to go back and do it different, I would have gone to university and gotten a degree instead of taking a college diploma program and dropping out anyway. It never used to bother me...but lately I have spent so much time around people that have a bachelors or masters or PhD in something and I begin to feel a little inferior.  I know it's irrational.  I'm a smart person but for some reason because I didn't spend thousands of dollars for a piece of paper that says I'm smart, I feel like I missed out on something.

7.  I hate brussel sprouts and green peppers.

And the Award goes to...

1. MochaTrina from MeSoHongry
2. SandyB from Reinventing Sandy B 
3. Melissa at Rock and Drool
4. Chief at Hiding From the Kids
5. Genny at My Cup 2 Yours
6. Kate at Busted Plumbing
7. IT at Well, Oh Yeah
8. Shana at Blaze n' Crochet
9. Dawn at Dawning
10. Alex at Whoa Momma
11. This Little Girl Dreams
12. ZoeyJane at Mommy Was Moody
13. Laura at The Life of My Love
14. UberGrumpy at UberGrumpy
15. Julia at The World is My Oyster

Congratulations, you all deserve it!!!!!

Blast From The Past-Just a Ramble

I have often wondered what happened to the good old classic cartoons.  They have changed so much since I was a child and there is something that I find just a little off about the cartoons of today.  Just when I thought all was lost, I found a tv channel that has everything I loved.  The Flintstones, The Jetsons, The Smurfs, Alvin and the Chipmunks, Fraggle Rock (ok not a cartoon but still a good one).

But, it surprises me the content of some of these programs.  Stuff I loved as a kid and now as I sit and watch the Flintstones, I realize that it was really full of more grown up content.  In this particular episode, Wilma is upset because her and Fred never do anything together anymore.  Fred is wrapped up in work, his Water Buffalo club and bowling and Wilma wants to go to a movie, to have Fred pay a little attention to her like before they were married.  So Fred agrees to take Wilma out and then Barney reminds Fred that they have a Water Buffalo Bowling Tournament.  Fred wants to do the right thing for his wife but at the same time doesn't want to let down his friends.  He comes up with an idea to be in two places at once and as is tradition it backfires on him and he gets caught.  Although he does win the bowling tournament, Wilma thinks they had a date so she's happy.  But when the truth is revealed Wilma forgives Fred and they live happily ever after.  How close was this program to real 'grown up' life and kids in the 70's and 80's loved this stuff. 

When you compare to the likes of Franklin and Dora the Explorer, it's so different.  The cartoons today seem to focus more on issues that pertain to kids.  Which there is nothing wrong with that.  And they are all trying to teach something, again great.  But why do they come off so flat? 

Maybe I am looking at a different audience.  Under 5 would probably get more enjoyment from the latter form of cartoons, and maybe I was just a tad older when I was watching my cartoons.  I do rememeber things like The Friendly Giant, Sesame Street, Mr. Dressup and I loved those too.  So maybe the problem is the age difference and I am comparing with the wrong audience.

But I sure love these oldies.  Sounds like Bugs Bunny is on now.

No Naps Today

You know how you get used to a certain schedule?  Wake up, breakfast, play, snack, play, lunch, play, NAP, wake up, snack, play, supper, play, snack, BEDTIME.

During those NAPS, your much needed break after a morning of play that consists of dancing around in circles, being taken for a walk by your toddler, not to mention the frequent diaper changes, drink refills, is your opportunity to get a little grown up stuff done.  You wait, you anticipate the time when you will be able to take a shower, do a little writing cause holy cow you actually have a fabulous idea for the next short story, an idea you have mulling over and over for months now and just couldn't figure out where it would go has finally become crystal clear and you just want to get it all down on paper as fast as you possibly can, or maybe you don't write and you are anxiously awaiting the moment you can get the house tidied a little, get prepared for dinner, that kind of stuff...but wait.  That little child that should be napping has decided to take it upon herself to change your schedule.  That's right.  No nap today.  Instead just constant screams when you try to lay her in bed.

You've got to be kidding.  Don't get me wrong, I am not so set on a schedule that the slightest deviation sends me into a tailspin.  I like a little spontenaity every now and again.  But please...is it too much to ask for an hour or two of no interruptions, no one needing you for something?  Just some peace and quiet.  No childish music playing from the TV, no bells and whistles from that favourite toy.  Just quiet.  Complete blissful quiet.

It doesn't come often so that little time you do get to yourself needs to be cherished.  Nurtured.  Extended if at all possible but that is unlikely.  Real wishful thinking.

So now, that time of the day that would usually be reserved for me...is slipping away.  Actually it's long gone already as now it is almost time for the hubby to walk in the door.  It's pointless to put her down for a nap now because then she will just be up late and there goes that time I could have later on.  And then I am left with nothing today. 

But there is always tomorrow.

Just when you think your head is about to explode, suddenly, everything just seems to work itself out.
With deadlines looming, I was beginning to think I had bitten off more than I could chew.  Writing deadlines, appointments, programs in the planning stage, presentations and...homework, eek, I didn't know how I was going to balance everything and still take care of my daughter and be there for husband.  It all seemed to be spiralling out of control.  To make matters worse, when I get like this (it's not the first time I have let things pile and pile until I can't recognize the beginning from the end) I start to get confused, disoriented, forget simple things like paying the bills and block out little snippets of conversations that may have been important at the time.  Kind of funny actually.  Well the latter, at least.  Two nights ago, I was sitting in the living room, probably watching the Olympics, but lost in my own thoughts.  My husband was in the dining room playing with our daughter.  He asked me something, which I didn't respond to at the time, it went right past, but somewhere in my subconcious I heard him, just didn't react.  Last night I was cooking dinner, he was playing again with Julianne and all of a sudden, I looked at them and started laughing.  At that exact moment I suddenly remembered that Arie had asked me if I wanted coffee the day before.  Of course he thought I was nuts for laughing for no particular reason.  I proceeded to explain what had just struck me as funny, to which he replied, "And I am still waiting for an answer."

At that moment, I realized I had to find a balance.  To develop a strategy to accomplish all I want or need to get done.  And in a reasonable time frame.  I am usually pretty good at prioritizing, check off the items that need to get done now, by a certain deadline, and get them done sooner rather than later so as to leave enough room to get the other things done without rushing at the last minute.

To this end, I got the presentation I had to do over and done with.  Reviewed the few manuscripts that needed to be done by this coming Thursday, prepped for a meeting tonight, took Julianne for a walk and played with her for awhile.  On top of that, I spent several hours last night working on my novel and actually added another 10 pages to it.  I still have some manuscripts to review before next Monday and a couple of short stories to get completed and sent off but at this point I am finally ahead of schedule and feeling pretty zen.

How do you balance life and work?  Any specific strategies you have found work better than others? Especially if you are a stay at home mom that works from home 90% of the time.

Count Backwards from 10...

Take a deep breath, count backward from 10, or forward if that's easier. 

This is something I was taught when going to anger management counciling.  Thank goodness it paid off.  My parents apparently got their moneys worth.

Nothing annoys me more than people butting in, offering their opinion or complaining when something is not going the way they want it to, even though they do not have ALL the information.  Assumptions are made, and then when you try to explain yourself or the actions of a team, you are interrupted.  Unable to get your thoughts across.  The heat begins to rise into your face and feel that familiar tug, like a sink plug, being held back by suction but if pulled just a tad harder, will completely release. 

Count backward...feel the heat begin to dissipate...the plug settles back in place for the time being.  But thoughts still reel around in your mind, you force the emotions down because it would be unprofessional to explode but then you just begin to feel nauseous.  A whirlpool of anger, churning and twisting in your stomach.

Relax, count backward a little more until you are calm.  Drive home, stew for a bit, go over the incident again and again, figure out if there was anything you could do to quell it before it got too much, or was it just destined to be the way it happened. 

Ultimately there was nothing that could be done, no way to go back and change it.  Just move forward.

Try a different approach, although it's gone ignored recently, try again and hopefully find some way to come to an amicable agreement. 

Ugh...some people are so frickin annoying. 

I know I have been slacking with my blog postings lately but I do have a really good excuse.  I have been working more than usual, lots of extra stuff to be done and it's coming down to deadlines.  Two big events are coming up that I am starting to feel a little rushed even though they are still months away.  Then along the way we encounter little hiccups that could be better done without.  I come home and I am just exhausted, mentally and physically.

I am taking two writing classes at the moment and that is taking up so much of my time.  I should have only gone with one, because I am finding that trying to get the work done for the two is a little more than I can handle.  I will do it but I will also know better for next time. 

In addition to the writing classes I all this I am trying to do some of my own writing, to submit stories here and there to different markets...

I am preparing our little family for our overseas trip to the Netherlands coming  up at the end of May.  Finally got the passport photos done...now they just need the required signatures then I can make the trip to the passport office and that will be done.

So in baby steps it will all get back to normal.  For now, I am going to post this note, to let you all know I am still thinking about you and as soon as I get some free moments I will catch up on all the bloggy news I have missed.

Spring is just about here!  At least in my little neck of the woods.

Recent Success

Just a little note that I was informed the other day that a book review I wrote is going to be published in the upcoming issue of Freefall Magazine.

One tiny step in the right direction.  I currently have only one more story out there awaiting response.  Suppose I should get in gear and submit some more.

After much headache and patience we are FINALLY booked for our trip to the Netherlands in May.  Online errors when trying to book kept coming up, then speaking with a Sales Agent and the credit card didn't work for a real live person so we finally phoned the credit card company only to find that a payment that had been made last week was not showing as posted to the account yet.  Aaargh.  So this morning, tried again, but only talking to a real live person and voila!  We are finally booked.  Confirmation number and all.

There are mixed emotions on my part about this trip.  I totally look forward to the actual vacation but I am totally not looking forward to the 9 hour flight involved.  This will be the first time with Julianne on a plane and it's a long flight to try and keep her calm and in one spot.  She is a very mobile toddler, as are most I am sure...but the prospect of chasing her up and down the narrow aisles of the plane does not appeal to me.  I would never make this flight alone with her...so there is some consolation in the fact that there will be help sitting right along side me.  (Granted we get there in time to select decent seats.)

I am sure I am probably worrying for nothing.  The flight will go fine, she will sleep the whole way, and be none the wiser that we are 20,000 plus km above the ground.  Ugh.

Can You Say ANNOYING!!!!!

Been trying to book our flight all morning...

Online got an error saying that it couldn't be processed.  Phoned credit card company to see what was going on and the fee went through but we got no confirmation.  Phoned airline and at first they couldn't find the flight so transferred me to several different departments.  Finally managed to find someone that knew what they were doing only to find out that the whole transaction had to be reversed before we could do it properly.  So now, we have to wait until the money is put BACK onto the credit card before we can book it again. 

What is with these people?  Apparently some new system that they have doesn't allow them to just put it all through properly without headache.  It has to be undone and then redone.  All I can say is they better not screw me out of the seat sale they currenly have posted. 

Did I mention I hate flying?

Backward...Not Forward

You know how we're always told to never look behind us?  The future is all that matters.  Good advice most of the time...if you're a person who dwells too much on the past.  I am all about looking forward most of the time. 
But...
I got a call today from my old boss, offering me my old job back...that I left only because of going on maternity leave.  I chose not to go back mainly because child care is so expensive that it really would not have been worthwhile for me to return, plus with the downturn in the economy, I knew they would be better off if I didn't return. 
Now, I do part-time contract work that really has a lot of benefits to it.  My hours are VERY flexible.  If I can't go in one for some reason, it's ok, I can go another day or work from home.  The company was flexible enough that I was able to start working mostly in the evening so that I didn't have to cart the little one with me and could leave her home with her Dad.  It's been working great.
There are benefits also to go back to a full-time job though.  Paid vacation, EI benefits if I have to go on maternity leave again, sick days, higher income to report toward buying a house...but is it enough?
My gut tells me that I have shut the door on that part of my life.  That there is no need to look back cause it's working out pretty good the way it is right now.  I get to be a part-time stay-at-home mom, which is better than being a full-time working mom any day.  I am in an environment that keeps me inspired to write.  Around like-minded people.  A more relaxed, casual atmosphere...no pressure...I work on my own, no one looking over my shoulder to ensure I am getting the work done, my performance speaks volumes and I am acknowledged for the efforts (most of the time).
I suppose I have answered my own question just by spilling the words from my fingertips.