Have you heard the one about...

First of all, I would like to thank Kiki for bringing this news story to my attention. You know, the one about the woman, the dog, the bear, and the zucchini. One of the funny things about this is that it took my friend from another state to tell me about something that happened just a couple of miles from my house. And no, it was not me, but it sure sounds a lot like my life.

We have seen bears on our property out here. One young male got chased up a tree by our dogs, then came down and chased the chickens. My husband went out there with a camera at first (the footage is mysteriously lost) until he realized a gun might be more appropriate. When the bear came close to the house, he shot near it to scare it away. We didn't see him again, but last year a very small  young bear (probably out on its own for its first season) right outside our front gate. When we went outside to look at it, it ran away. And one time my husband nearly ran into a mama bear with two cubs, who actually charged at him. Kind of a "worst case scenario." But he managed to get away unscathed.

Lately I have been spending more time at my lovely home out here in the forest, enjoying the quiet that you can only get here when everyone else is at school or work. We've had beautiful autumn weather, crisp and sunny. I've been harvesting my garden and making lots of great food with the fresh ingredients. Yesterday I made jalapeno applesauce, spicy salsa, and spinach soup. Zucchini bread has become a staple around here for the boys. I also like zucchini baked, fried, grilled, roasted, and in potato pancakes (shredded zucc, shredded pre-baked potato, egg). 

Now I can add "self-defense against bears" to my list of "the many uses for zucchini."

Black bears are pretty common around here, and this time of year they are taking part in the harvest as well, out there trying to fatten up for the winter. It is just their nature. And it is in the nature of dogs to protect their homes, and people to defend their dogs, and bears to defend themselves.

free-floating anxiety

There's a whole lot of that swirling around me at the moment - or rather, in me. It's a very odd physical sensation and not at all pleasant - it's like the feeling you get right before you go down the other side of the rollercoaster, except not as dramatic and much more mysterious and disturbing.

I know part of what this is about. Ditching Blackwell, or relegating him to the back burner, is a huge step towards casting away the last bits of what this novel was years and years ago when I first started writing it. A little scary. Kinda feels like jumping off a cliff, which, of course, would explain the feeling.

But then some of it has to do with my progress. It's not like there hasn't been any - I'm working steadily and regularly, but when I get my daily updates from the critical writing board, I feel terribly anxious that I haven't offered any crits (not that there's a minimum or anything) and that I haven't posted anything else since the third scene.

And the only thing that helps is to work. So off I go to do the shit I have to do to make this weekend work. Finish shopping for the party, bake and frost the cake, clean the house so our visitors from out of town can at least have a clean toilet to vomit in should the need arise, and still slap some lunch together for Aeryn.

Then I can work. And then, hopefully, this awful sense that I'm plodding slowly down the road while everyone else is catching up with the ice cream truck, so scared that there won't be any left for me by the time I get there. It's almost like preemptive grief. Or disappointment. Or something.

No rest for the wicked, right?

Right.

Will someone please tell me...

... how to write this fucking book without having the priest's POV? Because he's a real pain in the ass to write. The male and female protagonists are coming along nicely but writing Blackwell is like pulling teeth.

Damn it. It's a paranormal, for crap's sake. SURELY I can figure out a way to get enough hints in on what's going on without having to bore the fuck out of a reader in these scenes, because they're boring the SHIT out of me.

Maybe... I don't know, a telepathic connection? A little more information from her mother? A misplaced ribbon? Damned if I know. But there has got to be a way out of this; I'm terribly, awfully sick of slogging through these scenes.

Pardon the vent. It's late. However, now that I've put my brain on this path, it might take a few stumbling steps while I'm asleep. Once I wash the water bottles. And other stuff. Damn it.

Prompt: Six Degrees of Separation

"Six Degrees of Separation" refers to the idea that everyone is at most six steps away from any other person on Earth, so that a chain of "a friend of a friend" statements can be made to connect any two people in six steps or fewer.

Here's my thought. Write something that illustrates this idea. That's all.

We've not had a prompt in a while, so I thought I'd throw it out there for your consideration.

Catch you later, ladies.

~andi

Jalapeno Applesauce

• 6 medium apples, chopped (I prefer Granny Smith or McIntosh)
• 1 cup water
• 2 jalapenos, finely chopped (don't seed & vein unless you're a total pussy -- in which case, fuck off and forget this recipe)
• sugar to taste
• vanilla to taste
• dash of rum (optional)

Bring all ingredients to a boil in a pot with a tight-fitting lid. Reduce to a simmer, cover, and cook for 20 minutes or until apples are soft. Mash as much or as little as you like. Serve as you like. Good for a side dish, breakfast, or snack. Try it spicier. No, spicier than that. No, spicier!

Rain Dance

I haven't posted in a while -- not so much because I'm uninspired (although being unable to SURF in the desert is a problem) but because I've been so busy since I returned to New Mexico. It's mostly everyday life-type busy, and I'm job hunting as well.

Last night a storm rolled in close to midnight. It began with gusting winds. The smell of wet creosote began to crowd the humid air, telling me that the rain was nearby. Finally the storm broke, but not heavy -- soft little drops. I tossed my clothes and danced around the pool until the lightning strikes came too close.

Sleep was easy to achieve, but difficult to maintain -- the lightning was all around, illuminating the dark, crashing and reverberating, sounding as if the next strike might be my room. I was jumpy and excited and exhausted all at once. When morning came, and I heard a crowing quail and saw that the sun was out, I felt a crushing moment of depression.

Rain, come back! I love you!

Woman, Uninterrupted

I don't mean to brag, but, my life is awesome. Today anyway. The day that I have dreamed of for seven years has finally come; both of my kids have gone off to school, and I am free to do whatever I want. I don't think I've ever so looked forward to a chilly, rainy, September day.

For so many years of my life I have been programed to start something new in the fall. Elementary school, high school, college. Today I am looking forward to doing whatever I want, UNINTERRUPTED. Sure, I need to start looking for a job. But today I am free.

Today I can listen to morning news on NPR. I can listen to whatever kind of music I want to, really listen, loudly if I want. I can burn incense. I am free to clean, uninterrupted, and not have things get messed up right away. I can take the puppy out for a walk or go for a run and I don't have to schedule it with anyone.

I remember now, I used to be such an independent woman, before I had children. I have come to accept the dependence that our family unit has on each other. It's ok. But this whole time as a full-time stay-at-home mom (FTSAHM) I've been holding back and I can't wait to let my wild horses run free again, if only between the hours of 8:30 am to 3:00 pm, Monday thru Friday.

Surfing Goat Haiku

Surfing goat on waves --
horizontal pupils glow.
My goat is gnar-gnar.

Go With It

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling hungover from exhaustion – groggy, headachy, slightly nauseaous. I'd tried to get to bed early, really I had, but the evening routine took longer than I expected – it always does – and I puttered around for too long. I did manage to get to bed before midnight, which was an improvement. But the damage through the week had been done, and it all caught up with me yesterday.

It took an Espresso Doubleshot and a big travel mug of coffee to finally wake me up, but wake up I did, even managing to get to work on time. Struggled through the morning, sneaked outside for my lunchtime nap, got some work done in the afternoon, and dragged my sorry ass back to the house.

Brian made dinner, bless him, and we all played a game of Sorry that was ruthless and vindictive and great fun. Combined with Aeryn's rediscovery of her kid-sized video camera, the evening was full of laughter and happiness and I couldn't have wished for a better end to a really fucking long week.

The giggles and another cup of strong coffee woke me up enough to start working on a troublesome scene, only to find that the paltry efforts I'd made earlier in the week had been eaten by Open Office. This is the first time OO has failed to recover a document.

I wasn't horribly disappointed, which tells you something about my progress and the quality of the writing, both of which pretty much sucked ass. So I started over, and found that it was easier going somehow. No idea why. But at this point I don't question; I just go with it.

The final collapse into bed was heavenly, and I felt like I'd earned it this week.

Cut to this morning. Woke in Aeryn's bed, although I barely remember how I got there, at eight-thirty, more than two hours past my weekday wake-up call. Brian had made coffee my way – in other words, ridiculously strong – and I made the blueberry-banana muffins about which I'd been fantasizing for several days now. They were every bit as good as I'd hoped they would be.

It was the best morning I've had in a long time.

So this inconsequential, relatively drama-free post is based on nothing but a rare feeling of contentment. It will pass, as everything does. I'll see Sheba and be reminded that her leg isn't healing quite as well as I'd like; I'll go to the Apple Festival and be jostled by crowds and screaming kids; I'll have to watch the pennies this week because blah, blah-blah blah blah. Doesn't matter.

At this point I don't question; I just go with it, grateful for every second.

~Andi

I sound like a housewife, I think I'm a housewife

I never intended to be a housewife. Shit, I remember a time when I didn't think I'd ever get married or have children. Then I decided that someday I might have kids, but forget about a husband. Then one day I decided to get married, but not have kids. Then, unable to ignore the loud clanging of my freakin' biological clock, I decided to have a child. And after you have one, you may as well have two...

However, my timing was a little bit off. I should have both established my career and had children probably ten years earlier than I did. And so I find myself, over 40 years old, sending my youngest off to school. Hi, nice to meet you. I'm a housewife.

While it is tremendously exciting to think of having so much time off to myself (six whole hours a day, five days a week?!), I know that I need to use that time to find a way to make some money. 

WTF do I do with myself now? Can I find a job between the hours of 8:30 and 2:30, where they don't mind if I take off all school holidays and anytime my kids are sick? Stay tuned and find out...