Thanks giving

I’m sure ninety percent of blogs written today talk about what people are thankful for. Mine is no exception. It’s been a bountiful year.

The first thing that comes to mind of course is my horse, or our horse. I’ve told my daughter that she can’t call him her horse because we’re sharing all the horses for the time being. I guess I really should follow the rules. He’s such a love and turning out really well the better we come to know him, which so far is only two months. It’s been challenging because I don’t actually know that much and I certainly don’t know him. So I’ve been taking remedial horse-keeping lessons from the trainer.

Haltering a horse you don’t know out in the pasture (however willing he is) is completely different than haltering my past instructor’s very old horse who put his head down when I touched between his ears and would wait patiently while I fumbled around. Thor is pretty short compared to many horses, but for the vertically challenged (that would be me) he’s still tall. And he always wants his mouth close to my hands (just in case there’s a treat in them, because there must be, right?) So, I’d go to catch him and he’d come out to greet me and then back away as I walked to his shoulder, trying to find treats. If I’d cooperated he’d have backed across the entire pasture. So after I learned how to circumvent that and how to easily halter a horse (told you it was remedial), we moved on to bathing.

I’d groomed horses, but never bathed one. He has a skin condition behind his front knees at the top of all that gorgeous feather that requires bathing with a special shampoo, several times a week (basically, he has dandruff). I don’t know if he’d ever been in a wash rack before, but it was pretty scary. After a couple months he’s come a long way, there’s just a small flinch when the (warm) water hits his legs and he’s only really unhappy when it’s close to his face. He’ll stand there for an hour and get soaped, scrubbed and rinsed (all in hopes of a chunk of carrot, I’m sure). Toweling down is his favorite part. Besides the carrot. Oh, and immediately rolling in the dirt after being released. Sigh. All that lovely white and black turns into a brown horse.

We’ve moved on to working him in the round pen and lunging him in the arena. He’s cooperative but would be more than willing to stop at any time, because there might be a carrot involved. He’s losing a few pounds of fat and gaining some muscle. It’s lovely to watch all that mane, tale and feather flying when he canters. He’s done all of it before and is getting a refresher course as well as getting back into shape.

Still waiting for the saddle. We had to order one from the maker. No one had what I wanted in stock. The tack shop is estimating the first week of December. I had to get a leather one, but chose the lightest one I could find. I tried a couple of synthetic ones, nice and light and easy to care for, but they weren’t anything I’d like to sit in for an hours long trail ride. So instead of 18#, I’ll be hefting 25# above my head (almost). Need to work on that upper body strength.

The other boy is still in England, waiting until January to come over. They’re doing groundwork with him as well. He’s only a baby, eighteen months now, I think, so it’ll be a year or so before he’ll be ridden. I can hardly wait to meet him.

Writing is going slowly. Still revising ‘Black Opal’. It’s occurred to me that my plan to get it out circulating by the end of the year is going to be problematic. That leaves only about three weeks of school left to work on it. I’m going to have to work longer and harder at it if I’m still going to keep to that schedule. Not sure if it’s possible. I’m over the halfway point chapterwise, but I don’t know about the page count. I think the last half has shorter chapters. We’ll see. It’s a very long process all this polishing. And there really is no end to it. My writing is improving at such a rate that I could now go back to the beginning and start another revision and there would be quite a few changes. This could go on forever, but at some point I’ve got to put it out and see if anyone else is interested. And move on to the next novel. I’ve got two waiting. And a third, ‘Chakras’, that needs a major revision. Major, major revision. I’m going to wait on that one. So, I’ve got to make a big push on ‘Black Opal’ because come January the writing time will vanish until everything is finished here and the horses are home.

January is when they’ll build the hay storage shed, the run-in shed, the wash rack. We’ll build the compost bins and someone will build a small storage shed for garden furniture, grooming stuff and possibly tack. Then fences and gates will go up, electrical lines will go down and possibly plumbing. Last of all will be the geo-tech fabric covered by 6” of gravel in some places and sand in others. Then it’ll be done. Except for all the details. Which I’m sure will have me running around like a crazy woman. Hay, water trough, things I will never have heard of that must be hunted down and bought. Then finally the horses will get to come home. Whoo hooo hooo!

Which brings me to the garden. Somehow in the wet, mucky rain of November and December I need to get out there and finish planting the hedgerow. Weed and plant. Not really looking forward to it. I’d just like to twitch my nose and have it all done, but that’s not the way it works. So, that starts this weekend. And in order to fit a round pen into the paddock area, we must move chunks of the sidewalk over. Which means moving more plants. Sigh. After two years of it, I’m really tired of moving plants. At least it’s exercise.

Last week was the first since school started that I made it to the Y three times in any given week. Mostly it’s been a day or two. I could actually move up on some of my weights! So, I’ll try again this week. And keep at it. It feels good to be getting stronger. Must get my body working smoothly. I really don’t want a reoccurrence of ITP, although the hematologist is expecting it. I’m trying to do what I can to get healthier in general. The struggle with sugar is really hard. Haven’t conquered that one yet.

Just finished rereading George R.R. Martin’s Ice and Fire series–well the four books that are out. I’ve been reading his blog about the HBO pilot they’re filming of the first book and realized I couldn’t remember some of the characters. He’s really got the whole cliffhanger chapter ending and being mean to your characters thing down. At the end of book four (which is all that he’s finished so far) one character is blind, another about to be hung, another imprisoned by religious zealots for all the nasty things she’s done, another on the run for murdering his father, another gone off into the wilderness on an elk with a strange man, another trying to rule a city she’s conquered and on and on. There’s more viewpoint characters than I can count and they’re all fascinating. I’m dying to know what happens next. I also just finished listening to the unabridged version of ‘Lord of the Rings’ in the truck. We started it when we drove to Oregon to pick up Thor. So finally, I’m done. Am listening to ‘Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ now, read by Stephen Fry. What a brilliant combination–witty language read by and amazing actor. I’ll finish that just in time to start listening to Christmas music. I just started reading ‘Lip’s Touch’ by Laini Taylor. So far it’s awesome, I love the places her imagination takes me as well as the juicy language.

Basically, I’m thankful for the horses, having enough money (thanks Mom) to buy them and make a place for them, for making progress on revisions, for beginning to get in better shape, for my health, for the cats (who are wreaking havoc inside because they don’t want to go outside in the rain), for my daughter and my husband, for our warm, cozy home, for having two functioning vehicles, for electricity and new computers, for sunshine (which I’m not likely to see anytime soon), for water (which I’m seeing a bit too much of) and for my life. I think that about sums it up. Oh, and did I mention chocolate?

Being a Mom, again!

Okay, I’m not pregnant. But I’ve come to the conclusion that having a horse(s) is so, so similar to being a Mom that it’s scary. I’ve heard lots of women call themselves horse moms and I never really understood until now. You’ve got this thousand plus pound beast that needs to see you as not only Mom, but as the lead mare of the herd. Not only do you need to provide its need for companionship, but also courage and leadership. You need to (gently) ensure they understand what’s required of them and make sure everyone has enough food, water and a space where they can’t hurt themselves from stupid human mistakes, like bad fencing or construction debris. And understand how horses communicate. And have the emotional balance to give them unconditional love with boundaries. All this in addition to the rest of your life.

So the work load around here has gone up a lot. Some of it will go down once everything’s built and horses are living here. At this point Thor (not sure I love the name) is still at a boarding stable 40 minutes away and the other one (two?) are still in England. I will certainly save a lot on driving time when they’re all here, but then I’ll have two (or three) of them to take care of. So, I’m guessing the workload will be about the same if not more. Will be glad once everything’s built and up and all that planning, getting estimates, etc. is done. That’s eating up masses of time. Oh, and the worrying.

The other way horses are like kids is the constant challenging and testing boundaries. I’m still an unknown factor for Thor and so he’s always pushing to see where the lines are. Will I give him more treats if he begs and tries to get his mouth in my pocket? Will I protect him from the dreaded hose or attack him with it? Will I let him stop and eat grass as we walk from his pasture to the barn? The boy is an eating machine and needs to lose a few pounds. I’m thinking that if he were human, he’d definitely be an emotional eater. It makes him feel safe.

I’m still looking and waiting for the right saddle to come in. Gypsies are a little more difficult to fit, being broader and very short backed than most horses, although I’m betting I could have found an English saddle for him faster, or a leather one. But I’m going to be riding in the rain so synthetic is the way to go and I’m more comfortable in a Western saddle, even though I’ve ridden both styles. It just feels like home. The horse store is ordering one that may or may not fit. Everyone’s out of synthetic Western saddles in this area. Don’t know if it’s the wrong time of year or the economy. So right now we’re doing a lot of grooming, bathing and groundwork.

So, I’ve also bought one horse in England from one of the best (if not the best) gypsy breeders, Michael Vine. Rex is a lovely blood bay gypsy with three black feet and a thin white blaze. He’s also got the tiny, tippy ears of a good gypsy horse. He’s a young guy, only a year and a half, whereas Thor is six (and still considered young). I’m really looking forward to meeting him. Here in the US, it’s still difficult to find many gypsy horses that aren’t black and white pinto, who are geldings. People are just beginning to breed them. I’m willing to wait a year for a horse to ride, but not two or three! I’m also considering buying a third horse from Vines Gypsies, a gorgeous blue roan. I’m trying to make sure I’ll have enough moolah since everything about the buildings is costing more than I originally anticipated (having no experience at this sort of thing!). So, we’ll see. The horses themselves in England are reasonably priced, but getting them over here costs two to three times as much as the actual horse! Would someone please invent a transporter device?

Okay, on to writing. I’ve been having a hard time getting back on track with revisions since school started. Trying to figure out the horse space and costs and bids, etc., has been taking an enormous amount of time. And making sporadic attempts to get to the Y. And going to see Thor. Last week, however, I seem to have hit my stride again. I got past a really rough chapter that I’d been working on for awhile and moved through a couple of others. Still masses of work to do on Black Opal, but it’s moving forward. I’m at the halfway point (in terms of chapter numbers, perhaps further than that page wise) of the last draft I’ll do before I start sending it out.

I’m having second thoughts about Chakras. I think I might put it away for a long, long while, possible forever. It needs such a drastic rewrite that I’m not sure its worth it. It’s my first novel, but I’m not sure it’s salvageable. We’ll see how I feel after it sits longer. I think I’ll move on to one of the others. Nanowrimo time is almost here, but I’m going to sit it out this year. I have too much on my plate to consider it and can’t summon up the energy for it right now. And I’ve got two Nano novels already waiting in the wings, since I did it last Nov. and then in February on my own. It’ll take awhile to get those two revised, probably more than a year, so I’ll save my energy for that for next Nov. Would like to work on the sequel to Black Opal, but….

Gardening has fallen completely by the wayside, along with my interest in it. I’ve got the hedgerow to finish planting and need to delaminate the Lamiastrum under the cedars in the paddock area. Will plant more ferns and some sort of horse safe groundcover there. But I’m not really motivated to do it. The next big step in the garden is to build the massive three compost bins, each one 8′X8′X4′ tall that will hold manure and plant material. First we need to make a concrete pad for that. Michael’s been ignoring his part of the garden as well and all of the plants, preferring to spend his few moments of spare time dealing with piles in his desk. It’s been rainy (sometimes torrential) and the garden’s having to fend for itself. The fish are eating a little still, but it’s almost time to close the pond down for winter. Although I’m loving the beautiful butterscotch yellow of hostas, the golden yellow of the lilies, the rust/burgundy tinges on the parrotia, the orange of the Acer japonica ‘Omurayama’ and the all-inclusively, colored witch hazel ‘Jelena’. All we need is more red out there. Roses are still blooming and asters and begonias are going to town. It’s lovely as the garden slides into the decline of the season. I’m enjoying looking at it, just don’t have any motivation to do the work out there.

Wow!

Wow! My life has moved from busy to ballistic in the last couple of weeks. Last week it was all about trying to clear out all the STUFF stored on the paddock side of the house. We took a load of Zoe’s remaining outdoor toys to Goodwill. Then sorted through lumber, wire fencing and all sorts of stuff we’d saved over the years, just because we might use it someday. Some stuff we moved to another part of the garden, lots we loaded into the pickup and off to the dump or recycling it went.

Then on Friday Chris came with his big machine and started clearing away foliage. The bulk of it was blackberry vines, but there were a few trees and large shrubs we’d planted thirteen or so years ago. Sorry to see them go. We’ve tried to replace most of them in other parts of the garden, knowing this day was coming. We started a fire, since the summer burn ban was over, to burn everything–including a few pallets. It was somewhat successful until it rained the next day and put a damper on things. Five days later though the pile is still smoking a little and reducing somewhat.

Things look very strange out there. He graded part of it, so it’s very, very flat except for the tall cedars we left and the hedgerow. I can see neighbors who I don’t really want to see, but that’s only temporary. This Friday he’ll come back and haul away the burn pile to compost and finish grading. Then he’ll bring in gravel for the driveway and he’s done until we do other work out there.

While he was out there working I came inside a couple of times to get away from the heat of the fire and surfed gypsy horse websites. On one I found a horse I’d seen for sale as a young gelding several years ago. He’s a beautiful black and white with heavy feather. His current owner down in Oregon was selling him again and at an amazing price. I thought about it for a while, then emailed her enquiring about why she was selling him. I didn’t hear from her for a couple of days. I also worked up the nerve to email a gypsy breeder in England to ask about a gorgeous bay yearling and find out whether he’d sell him as a gelding as well as the cost for the horse and shipping, etc.

Two days later I got a response to both. The black and white’s owner had been unemployed for awhile and was looking to move and needed to buy hay for the winter for the two horses she’s keeping and wanted to sell him quickly. The bay’s breeder said, “yes,” to gelding him and told me he’d get shipping quotes. The price for the horse was great and both of the horses personalities were exactly what I’m looking for. So I thought about it for a few days. Then the woman from Oregon emailed on Sunday and said she’s planning on moving within the week, so I called her and chatted.

This week I found an Oregon Vet to do a pre-purchase exam and got that scheduled. Then I did horse and trailer insurance research. Yesterday while at the car dealership getting a screw out of my tire, I called the horse trailer place to ask if they had locking hitches and told her I was coming by to look at trailers. She asked if I had a brake controller in my truck and I said “who knows?” So I went to the parts dept. and bought one and was able to get it installed after they finished the tire. Then the vet called and gave the Oregon horse a clean bill of health and said he was the best moving gypsy the vet had ever seen and would make a great dressage horse. (I’d told him earlier that I mainly wanted to trail ride, but might dabble in dressage).

After lunch I went to the trailer place and with lots of fabulous information about trailering and horses in general, chose the trailer I’d been looking at online, got it hooked up and drove home. Whew!

So, today I’m looking at boarding stables, since I’ll have to board him until we’re ready here. Still less expensive than shipping him up from Arizona or buying a comparably trained (but maybe not as gorgeous or affectionate) gelding in the future. Then I need to firm up trailer insurance and make a million other phone calls and arrange a million other details. We leave Saturday to go meet him and bring him back up here on Sunday.

So, at this point I can say that I’m 90% sure we’ll buy him. I”m going to own a horse within the week. And I have no saddle or bridle or even brushes, etc. Must get the grooming supplies, but I’ll probably give him a week or so to hang out and get situated up here before I deal with getting tack.

Wow! I feel like I’ve leapt off a cliff. Helpful people keep throwing a net out that slows down my fall, but I’m still falling and who knows where I’ll end up? I have a good idea about where my target is, but who knows if or when I’ll reach it. My entire life is being rearranged.

Still haven’t done more revising than just a chapter here and there. Once I’ve got the fencing, run in shed and hay storage construction lined up–so many of those details will be taken care of and my brain will be freed up again. One of my critique groups disbanded and I joined a new one, so I must get a move on.

As for gardening, my focus right now is to figure out where the hay storage and run in shed will go, so I can plant the other hedgerow. Get all those plants out of pots and move on. Looking forward to having that done! At the moment I am absolutely burnt out on gardening.

I’m still continuing the no sugar, very low grain thing the naturopath put me on. It feels great and I’ve been doing it for almost fifty days, although I did have a cupcake celebration last Saturday. Michael, Zoe and I split four cupcakes of various yummy flavors from Cupcake Royale. I crashed for two hours afterward. Apparently, the only part of my body that likes sugar is my taste buds.

My exercise program fell apart last week, except for heavy lifting. I haven’t been able to get to the Y this week yet either, but am hopeful about tomorrow and then Saturday night I’ll swim in the hotel pool. I’ll have no choice about that one. I’m not sure if Zoe’s more excited about getting a horse or staying in a hotel. She once confided in me that she’d like to live in a hotel.

So, that’s where my life is at right now. I’ve got a zillion details to flesh out today and it’s time to get dressed and get the kiddo ready for school so off I go!

Wow!

Fall is here!

I always think of fall as a time of transition.

In the Northwest it’s the end of our warm, dry summer nights as they begin to turn crisp and moist. The slugs, who’ve been hiding in the irrigated sections of the garden, begin to expand their territory. The vine maples transform into crimsons and oranges. The spiders who appeared everywhere a few weeks earlier are now less numerous, but fat and well fed. It’s still impossible to walk through the garden without flailing arms as if beating off invisible creatures, in order to avoid ending up face first in a web full of desiccated carcasses and a surprised spider. The weeds and grasses in the sun have turned brown and withered from lack of water and the massive cedars are filled with orange patches as they drop needles. Nature is letting go and preparing to draw herself inward in preparation for winter.

I find my life transforming as well. I’m on day 24 of my naturopath’s recommended food changes–eating only protein, veggies, fruit and some dairy. Maybe some brown rice or a corn tortilla on occasion, but definitely NO SUGAR. I tried it last spring and made it for a couple weeks before life fell apart, but couldn’t get myself back on it until recently. Feeling much better. I’m also three months into the exercise program and that feels good as well. Physically, I’m making great changes to my life.

Now, it’s time for more change. Got a brand-spanking-new computer and printer on Friday (Macbook Pro) and I’m still trying to figure everything out, but it’s going well. Except for the glitch of having to translate EVERY SINGLE NOVEL CHAPTER from Appleworks (way old, antiquated program, I know) to Word, so I can use it in something called Pages. That’s four novels worth of chapters. It will take a while. My official writing time starts somewhere in the next two weeks. School starts next week, but is not a full week and I’ve got a few commitments to clear up. So probably I’ll launch myself back into writing the following week. We’ll see. One novel just needs to finish minor revisions, then get sent out to make the rounds. The other, well…. I’m afraid it needs a major, major rethinking and revision. I’ve got my work cut out on that one.

It’s also time to move the remaining few plants out of the horse area and start cutting trees down. The burn ban ends here on Sept. 15, and we’ve got a lot of blackberries, fallen wood from last winter, dead shrubs from last winter, etc. that didn’t get taken care of until summer. I kept waiting and hoping things would come back to life and some of them did, although not necessarily in their original form. Our 15′ fig tree is now a 2′ shrub! So, we’ll have to cut down the tree skeleton.

We’ve got lots of clearing out to do, then the leveling starts on the horse area. And the geo-tech fabric and fenceposts and gravel and run-in shed and hay storage building and fencing and, and, and. You get the picture. There’s a ton of work to do and I’m still not sure how it’s all going to happen. But it will. Oh and another half of the hedgerow to plant–before winter! Plants out of pots. Must get all plants out of pots–this year at least!

So, I hope to be outside squeezing the juice out of the last bit of summer in the next few weeks, trying to make the transition into autumn go more smoothly. It’s easier to change if you’re anticipating it and my life is moving from sedentary to active.

And it’s long overdue.

Unstuck at Last

It’s been a long, long while since I wrote here. My life seems to have ground to a halt. School’s been out. The child has been whiny–”I don’t have anyone to play with.” There was a garden tour we were on that we needed to prepare for and our annual party a week later. It’s been so long since I haven’t had massive pressure on me that when the release came suddenly I didn’t really know what to do.

So I floundered around for a couple of weeks. Went to see the new Harry Potter film, then had to reread the book. Then had to reread the last book. (I know I’m looking for comfort when I start rereading books.)

Finally, a couple days ago I actually woke up earlier than the kiddo and did some serious journal writing. What came up was fear, major fear. And not about writing–imagine that. It was about really launching into the horse project. Finally and irrevocably launching into it. The kind of leap which you take and there’s no going back–sort of like giving birth to a child.

After I finally got everything down on paper, it came out I was afraid of running out of money–mid project. Afraid of screwing everything up. Afraid I’d change my mind. Afraid my body would fall apart in the middle of all this. Afraid I don’t have enough information about how to do everything (which is truly the case). Basically afraid I’d do something really stupid and everything would turn out to be a disaster.

I don’t have a track record for messing things up on an epic scale, but I do have a bad habit of running out of money. “Must stop shopping,” she says on her way to the Goodwill ‘Western Days’ sale with child in tow. “Oh and I must pick up some research books tonight.”

Mostly what it comes down to is a lack if information. Who do I hire to level out that side of the property? How do I design the hay storage and run-in shed area/s and how much will they cost for materials? How do I design the fencing? Where do I buy the masses of gravel to cover the sacrifice area? Technical stuff. I’ve got a lot work to do to figure it all out in more detail than I already have.

So, my next job is to write ALL the questions I have down on paper instead of letting them become this massive black beast overshadowing my whole life, dragging me down into paralysis. Then I need to start talking to people who can answer my questions and doing research. Then somehow I need to dovetail all of the work that needs to be done into the rest of my life.

I always feel better when I have a plan of some sort and I know the next step.

Lethargy

It’s set in. Summer lethargy. Every year about this time I want nothing more than to lie around in the shade, drinking cool exotic beverages (or even ice tea) and reading good books. Work of any sort is not part of my desired agenda.

However, Zoe, Michael, the cats, the koi and the garden don’t feel the same way. Zoe’s out of school and wants food, entertainment and occasionally, clean clothes. Michael wouldn’t mind being able to find the kitchen table and walk through the house. The cats and koi simply want food. The garden desperately needs water.

And those are just the minimal desires of the beings with whom I share my life. That doesn’t begin to include what I want. This is the time of year when my dual nature really asserts itself. The flip side of lying-around-Linda is over-ambitious-Annie. I have this massive to-do list and my deadline for most of it is our early August garden party.

I want the garden cleaned up, weeded, planted and mulched. Flowers dead-headed. Empty pots recycled or put in the garbage. No plant tags from deceased plants lying around. Paths weed-whacked. Everything looking as nice as possible. Sounds doable right?

Somehow, when I look around the garden in July it seems an impossible task. And not just this year after the chaos of the last three months. Come July, after working so hard on the garden all fall, winter and spring–I’m done. I just want to rest. And do nothing. The heat doesn’t help me feel inspired to work either. I feel wilted.

But when you buy too many plants and can’t get them all in the ground, you spend all your time watering little pots. No time to actually garden.

And come July–the whining really starts. The reality of summer has set in with Zoe. “I’m bored. Can’t you play with me? Can’t we go somewhere?” So, we go somewhere and nothing gets done at home. Dishes pile up, clean laundry accumulates and the debris of life begins to consume the kitchen table.

This summer I scheduled three weeks of different day camps for Zoe’s entertainment. The first one starts today and the next is three weeks away. I’m hoping that I’ll have a week to garden and write. I realize it’s not really enough time to do either, but it’s what I’ve got. Must make some progress on the last revisions of both novels so I can get them sent out. (Of course I realize these aren’t really the LAST revisions, but they’re the last ones until I figure out what else to revise on them.)

And I must get plants into the ground! I need to have fewer little pots to water. Since my goal is to get everything planted by November, I’ve got to keep moving on. The hedgerow alone will be very, very time consuming with all the blackberries to excavate and roses to uncover.

All of this means I need to move through the lethargy phase of the summer. Yesterday, I let myself (well, mostly) lie around and read. Today, it’s time to get moving and get some work done. Whip the house into shape and get gardening and writing. Not necessarily in that order.

Magic

Magic exists all around us. I read another writer’s blog about fireflies the other day. What is more magical than fireflies? We don’t have fireflies, but we have dragonflies, hummingbirds and bald eagles. On the terrestrial side, cats can be pretty magical too. As can lilies and roses and meadow rue.

I’m having some trouble seeing magic in the world these days. It’s summer with beautiful, long days; warm enough to go outside even when the weather’s overcast or sprinkly. The garden’s in bloom and all the migrating birds are back. There’s so much to enjoy.

Yet somehow I’m stuck with my overwhelming to-do list, unable to appreciate the beauty of it all. I’m trying to whip my out of control life into shape again. It got this way through a few months worth of neglect and is driving me crazy. I’ve let things pile up and now they’re threatening to topple over and bury me. At least that’s what it feels like.

The garden is the most pressing. I had way too much fun at plant sales this spring and then my life fell apart, so I’ve got too many plants waiting to get into the ground and not enough weeding done to create the space. So I’m spending all my time watering (or not) pots. Not very bright, since I believe I might have done this once or twice before.

The house is the next disaster. We’ve decided to get a second computer, finally. Although we’ll wait until fall when the new Apples come with the new OS. That meant however another desk was needed. The perfect one came up on sale last week, so we picked it up. Which meant cleaning out the old one. I have an amazing ability to pack a lot of stuff into a small space. There were three shelves on top of the armoire and tons of stuff inside. And dust! So for a couple days every flat surface in the kitchen was covered with piles (the kitchen is our office). Now I’ve got all my stuff put away. Michael still has his pile in the corner which has been there for months, but I’m hoping that when he has a couple days off that will all disappear into the empty shelves of his desk and I won’t have to look at them. While trying to use my desk I realized I needed a lamp in there, so went off in search of one, along with a few other necessities. I found a lamp and another desk chair. Now I won’t have to unearth a cat every time I want to sit down. Maybe.

All that took a few days, which also involved rearranging other kitchen furniture and some living room furniture. Now I need to rearrange all the dishes on the kitchen island so we can reach them, since we moved it and the butcher block. Our house is like a Chinese puzzle. Move one thing and you must move all the other pieces. In retrospect this was the best time to do it. Not in the fall when I launch into writing again full time, even though I’ll be dealing with a new computer. Aaargh. Not looking forward to that part of it. I like new and shiny, but the learning curve sometimes kills me.

I still haven’t dealt with finding a place for all the towels in the laundry room, since I changed all the bathroom storage. It’s time to go through and clear some clutter again. Stuff just collects.

So, I’ve got all this plus everyday stuff and I’ve just started a new exercise program. Exercising revs me up for a short time and then I crash for a few hours. So my afternoons are a little droopy energy wise at the moment, which isn’t helping me get stuff done.

Along with the massive to-do list, one of the things that helps me enjoy the magic of life is quiet. One of our cats talks all the time she’s awake, which is a lot. She talks when you pet her, she talks when you don’t pet her. She’s a gray tabby, but has a siamese yowl. Sigh.

Then there’s Zoe, who brings a whole new meaning to noise. Lately she’s taken to singing loudly, off key, as she makes up new songs. This is especially annoying when she’s doing it while I’m trying to have a conversation with Michael about exactly where we should put that piece of furniture. I don’t want to discourage her from being creative, but I know she’s trying to get my attention. The rest of the day she just talks, talks, talks. To her toys, to the TV, to me, to the cats. The other parents at her school are amazed to find that she talks so much, since they usually only see her during class, when she’s quiet. Since school’s out, it’s been nonstop chatter. It gives quiet time a whole new meaning.

I’m going to spend the rest of the summer looking for the magic in my life. I’ve been in a rut and need to climb out and see what’s happening all around me. I don’t want to be one of those gardeners who never sits and enjoys their gardens, but who only works there.

Death is not pretty

I haven’t written for a while as my life has been turned upside down. Over a week ago I got a call from the nursing home where my Mom lived, that she only had a few days left to live, so we got on a plane and flew to Montana to see her.

Mom’s been dying for over a year. Really dying, not in the sense that we all start dying the minute we’re born. She had a series of small strokes and has been steadily declining ever since. There were small improvements in her health and after physical therapy, she could eat solid food again and move her left arm a little, but pretty much it has been a downhill slide. Last November she turned 91.

She’s had problems hearing for years, but when my brother visited in April, he said that now she couldn’t seem to speak either. It was obviously frustrating for her because her mind was pretty lucid.

When I got there a week ago, she was sleeping. A small, shrunken woman with gray hair down to her shoulders, where my Mom’s hair had always been short. Her dentures weren’t in so her high cheekbones ended in a sunken mouth. She cracked one eye open when I spoke, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge our presence. The nurse had told us it would be a miracle if she lived through the night.

It was five days later before she died. She’d stopped eating (if you call getting nutrients through a tube eating) fifteen days earlier. It took her body a long time to let go of life.

Over the last few years I’ve watched her life gradually shrink from leaving her house and moving into a retirement apartment. Then after a fall and broken hip, moving into an assisted living apartment. Then after the strokes, moving into the nursing home. Each move was to a smaller space with less and less freedom and more medical intervention. Her world became smaller until it was only one room crammed with belongings and memories of an earlier life. Then in the last few months it was limited to a bed and then only to her mind.

It’s very strange to watch someone you love die like that. You don’t want them to die, but on the other hand you don’t want them to linger and suffer. By my standards what she had the last couple of years was no kind of life, but who am I to say what her life should be? So she struggled with her medical problems and when the time seemed right we chose to not put her back on the feeding tube. Her doctor agreed with us, saying if it was his mother he would do the same. Mom had made out a living will years ago and she’d said many times that she didn’t want to die slowly in a nursing home.

Still, it’s really hard to take action that you know will cause someone’s death–even if it’s the right thing to do. You really want them to die and not suffer, but taking action so that someone we love will actually die goes against everything our culture teaches us. I don’t have a lot of guilt about this, but there is a little of it lurking around in my mind. The responding voice says ‘It’s not as if she was going to get better. Her health was always going to be going downhill.’

So, as my older brother so eloquently put it, “We’re orphans now.” Dad died over thirty years ago. I haven’t quite processed what Mom’s death means to me yet, I’m simply glad it’s over and she’s moved on to somewhere that isn’t full of pain and restriction.

Still Revising–Writing and Life

Revising is moving along. Yesterday, I finished up another draft of the adult fantasy and now must go back to the beginning and revise what the critique group has been through. The YA Fantasy is up next. Just a few more chapters till the end of that, then same thing–back to the beginning. I’m dubious about getting them done before school gets out in a little over two weeks. Okay, more than dubious. I’m finding it really, really doubtful. Too many school things and life in general will take me away from the computer. All-day field trips, graduation (from kindergarten), errands, Dr. appointments, etc. Anyway, I just need to get as far as I can, when I can.

My life is in sore need of revision as well. My Naturopath has me working on changing the way I eat. I’m actually getting all those fruits and veggies we’re all supposed to be eating every day, especially since that’s about all I’m eating! And I’m mostly okay with that, although walking through the grocery store the other day was awful. By the time I left, I would’ve killed for a chocolate bar and at least committed high treason for ice cream. It’s a good thing Michael does most of the food shopping.

Finances. Whoa, now there’s part of my life that really needs revising. I’ve spent a great deal of energy working on it, but there’s still a huge gap between what I plan to buy and spend and the reality of what actually happens. I need to stay out of places that sell things. Ha! I don’t shop that much, but geez going into a nursery or store is a huge challenge. ‘No, I don’t really need that cool, new thing,’ I keep telling myself. Hard to make it stick though. Books are a little easier to say no to, since my To Be Read pile is quite tall at the moment and I’ve also got books on request at the library. I’m not the fastest reader in the world.

Plants are harder to resist, especially with the huge holes in the garden from last winter. I’m trying to replace a lot of dead things and it’s challenging to go into a nursery and just buy what’s on my list, then leave. Only two more planned, plant buying outings though. I’ll try really hard to visualize all the plants I have stacked up at home, waiting to go into the ground. After those two outings I need to stay out of the nurseries until the fall sales and then only bring cash. Sigh.

Revising life is much more difficult than revising fiction, though. You have to change the way you think about how you live. It’s a 24 hour job. To shift your view of the way you eat, stand, look at your body, use money or food or work or any addictive substance is really tough. In my typical fashion (all or nothing), I’m working on everything at once. Most sane people would only tackle part of their life to revise at a time. However, most sane people wouldn’t be trying to do as much with their lives at once as I am. I know people who work in a real job for a living and only have one other thing they do–like spend time with their kids or write or garden or cycle or go to clubs to hear music or spend time with their animals or work on their home. Not all these at once.

I’ve always been this way, although over the years have narrowed my focus a little to the things that bring me the most pleasure. At this point I’m not willing to cut anything else out of my life (except the cooking, cleaning, laundry, budget & paying bills part, which unfortunately are not optional). Writing, gardening, spending time with my family, friends and animal are what make my life worthwhile.

I want it all! Bwaahhhaahhhaaa!

Expectations

I’m dealing a lot with expectations these days, in writing and everyday life. Asking the question–am I expecting too much of myself, of my family, of a book I’m reading?

In the revising I’m doing it’s all about whether I’m fulfilling the reader’s expectations in a new and unusual way. And am I able to go beyond what they expect in the story and surprise them? After revising a novel for the umpteenth time I begin to lose perspective. Are the characters unique enough? Have I put enough of a twist on some of the stock fantasy elements I’ve chosen to use? Is the story dark enough or should I go darker? As I bang my head against the desk in search of another cliffhanger chapter ending (okay, maybe get it whacked with the closest cat’s tail who’s hanging out with me that day) these are the things I’m trying to moodle through. The novel that’s in my head works really well and the challenge is to get the one on the screen to come out and be as functional. There’s often a large gap between what I envision and what turns up on the printed page. Most of my writing is working to get closer to what I see as the truth of the novel.

Which doesn’t mean I’m stuck with the plot that’s in my head. If a shift comes along and is clearly better, I’m more than happy to help it along. If an unplanned character pops up halfway through the book (as happened in the first draft of a new novel I wrote in Feb.) I’m good with weaving her into the story. But for the most part I’ve got these expectations of what the book will be and it’s hard when I lose perspective and can’t tell if I’m meeting it or not.

In the garden there’s a totally different problem. There I’m collaborating, sometimes unwillingly, with nature. If there’s a freaky winter (like the last one) that kills four trees, nine shrubs, two massive vines, countless perennials and trashes out many of the rest–those are major holes in my planning and expectations. In large parts of the garden I’m almost starting from the beginning again.

The seasons bring another aspect to this. In fiction it’s what’s Michael Stearns called ‘the ticking clock’. Summer’s coming and I’ve got a short time left to get certain things done in the garden before it will be detrimental or useless to do them. The plants in sunny areas need to be in the ground, shady areas can wait a little longer. Fertilizing, if I’m going to do it, needs to happen soon or it will be too late and I might as well skip it, yet another year. Plants must be watered or they’ll be toast. It’s pretty much past time to move plants–given the wonderful heat wave we’re currently having. Slugs need to be dealt with, vines need to be trained before they get too tangled or break, seeds need to be planted. Tick, tick, tick.

Then there’s the expectation that I’ll actually have time to get everything done on my list (my MASSIVE to-do list) during any given time period. Somehow, when I plan amnesia sets in and I think–No problem. I can do all that in a month. I seem to forget that errands need to be run, children need to be entertained and even eat, dinner needs to be made, meetings need to be gone to and oh yeah–writing, my day job. Not to mention the unexpected things like dryers breaking, trips to the doctor for yet another ear infection and such. So, the end of the month (or spring) approaches and I look at the list and say “What was I thinking? There’s no possible way I could’ve gotten all this done.” Then I go and plan it all again for the next season. Granted, I am becoming more realistic in my planning, but my expectations still exceed what is really possible.

Then there’s other beings expectations of me. My child expects to be entertained, partly by me, every waking hour, which is SO not going to happen. The cats expect me to provide them with food and attention whenever they want it and to leave them alone to terrorize flies, bees and other small creatures the rest of the time. Also not going to happen. My husband, well who knows what his expectations are–with spouses you never can tell.

We all have expectations of ourselves and others. I wonder if other people fall down so often tripping over the gap between what they expect of themselves and the reality of what is.