Life

Torturing a Writer

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

I spend my days torturing my characters. Want to know how to torture a writer? Sure, bad reviews will hurt, but every writer has a stack of rejection letters, so we’re used to negativity. In my house, that guarantees dinner out and a glass of wine.

If you really want to torture a writer, give her a hand injury. I’ve spent the last eight weeks in a brace of one sort or another, and fully expect to be in a cast next week when it becomes obvious that I’m not so good about staying in the brace. Here’s the thing: in a brace, half of the keyboard is off limits.”L” is a thing of the past. “N”? Not a chance. There are THREE vowels on the right hand of the keyboard. All of which I should be able to reach since my thumb is what’s screwed up, but I can’t.

In trying to follow doctor’s orders, that has meant no typing. No writing. No fun. And with no relief in sight, I’m $200 and one  more doctor’s appointment away from buying that Dragon speech recognition software so I can work again in some reasonable amount of time. I haven’t typed this badly since junior high. Thank goodness Zork! didn’t need big commands.

And I can’t play Epic Mickey, which the kids hooked me on after we thought I was better six weeks ago. Oops. Turns out Wii remotes aren’t good for hand injuries — especially when you have to use two of them. So Mickey has to wait.

But writing can’t. I’ve missed the blog, and the Kids have spent a ton of time in the kitchen, so there are entries there, waiting to be written. I’m tired of waiting to write them. For God’s sake, I have entries to write about the perils of dating.

So the blog’s back. Regardless of what I learn on Wednesday. Because I’ve lost patience. They may not be long, but they’ll be here. Stay tuned!

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Video Game Addict

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

I had a list of stuff to do this weekend. This shouldn’t be a shock to anyone. On my deathbed, I will be making a To Do list. Even as I’m writing this blog, I’m mentally coming up with stuff for today’s list. Take Advil is pretty high on that list. In fact, it was number one on the list when I was laying in bed, listening to the rain that is, in part, the reason for today’s migraine. But I digress…

There was a list. Unfortunately, like so many of us, my lists are usually made up of things like clean the bathroom and make a million dollars, and rarely have stuff on there like have fun with the kids. No biggie. The kids roll their eyes when there’s too much house stuff and not enough fun stuff, so it usually balances out. Because, while I make lists, I’m not the best at following them these days. I’m easily corruptible.

On Saturday the list could pretty much be broken down to: fix everything. I also have delusions of grandeur. Of course we can weed and mow five acres of grass and gardens, clean the house and lose 15 pounds in 8 hours! We started out pretty well. With three of us working in the garden, we managed to get 1.5 hours of weeding done in 30 minutes. We rock!

But in doing the weeding, lost in the weeds we found a mostly dead tomato plant and a watermelon plant that might have been a victim to some wild Round-Up spray earlier in the week. Add buy replacement plants to the list.

Heading inside, I took a shower. That was the downfall. If I’d stayed sweaty and nasty, there’s a chance — a slim chance — that I would have stayed on target. But while I was getting cleaned up, I remembered Scout Son’s desperate pleas to buy Risk Factions for the Xbox. Which required information from a more knowledgeable source (the guys at GameStop). And if I was hitting them up for knowledge after getting the plants, then I might as well trade in old games, have Scout Son show me what game he wants for his birthday, and you know, hit two yarn stores in my never-ending search for the perfect yarn for a blanket for me. Ha! New list. Better list. Much more fun list!

Hours later Scout Son and I return with xBox points in hand, answers in brain, and a plan: beat Snarky Daughter in Risk. SD didn’t look so happy about it, so I suggested that after that she could teach me how to play Epic Mickey. That made her day.

I’m not allowed to play video games. I love them. I fall into them and come out later wondering where June went. So, the idea that I wanted to play video games with them for hours was alien. First we did some of the icky cleaning found on the icky grown up list. Then I ordered pizza. And then I took over the world.

I’d be proud of beating everyone in Risk, but I followed that up with five hours of Disney characters kicking my butt. I limited myself to one hour on Sunday. And I got off the system after an hour and a half, which is better than when I picked up the book that morning for 20 minutes of reading and finished it three hours later.

Today I’m picking up the icky list again. After all, the kids leave for a week tonight and that means the game systems are all mine in the evenings. Wahahaha! Is knocking their high scores off of all the games a reasonable addition to the To Do list?

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Summer Vacation Should be Mandatory

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Summer vacation. Remember that one?

Snarky Daughter started it before Memorial Day. Scout Son’s last day in seventh grade is Friday.

I’d forgotten how awesome summer vacation was. Until my contract ended in March. I’ve now been on summer vacation for going on three months. I’d like to tell you all it sucks. I mean money is tighter than tight, and while I dream of the beach, I can’t afford it, no matter how I run the numbers. Although I’m running to the store later for a lottery ticket, just in case I can win my way out of my financial crisis.

But, even with that hanging over my head, it’s still a great time of year to be off the clock. I walk every morning and listen to the birds. OK, I listen to some crazy woman from Prevention’s Walk Off Weight program telling me to walk faster, but that’s only in one ear. The other ear listens to the hawk overhead and prays he hasn’t figured out I have chickens in the yard. So far, so good.

I get to garden for a while each day instead of cramming it all into Saturday. And I get to play with my kids. Tomorrow I’m headed to the zoo with Girl Scouts. When Scout Son gets out, I can’t wait to play volleyball and badminton with him. I’m caught up on Boy Scout merit badges and rank advancements and both kids’ sashes are up to date. Shocking, I know.

But I’ve pretty much decided that everyone needs at least a month of summer vacation each year because of all the stuff you can cross of your To Do list. I’ve painted, cleaned, sorted, cleaned, stripped wallpaper, cleaned… you get the idea. Closets that I’ve been meaning to get to for years are straightened out. I’ve picked up knitting Snarky Daughter’s blanket since she dropped it two rows in two years ago.

In case you missed it, I’m also a lot happier since I’ve been on vacation. I’m more rested and exercising more, which always puts me in a better mental place. And that’s the real reason we all need summer vacation. To go play in the kiddie pool, relax and remember why fun is important and how much fun family is.

Enjoy your evening. I’m headed into the living room to battle my kids in a Super Monkey Ball race.

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End of School Brings…Sanity?

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

What is it about the end of the school year that makes everything crazy? Between proctoring exams, finals, and end of year parties and events that should not really affect me at all (after all, I graduated middle and high school back in the dark ages), work almost stops.
In the case of this blog, it did stop. But Snarky Daughter finished up school on Wednesday, and Scout Son is done next Friday, so oddly, peace will soon invade my life again. And I can’t wait.

You’d think without a day job that I’d have plenty of time to do, well everything. And to a certain extent, that’s been true. I just haven’t focused all my attention on writing. I’ve stripped wallpaper, painted SD’s new room, and as of this weekend, finished moving her in. Phew.

I’ve cleaned closets, looked for work, started learning HTML and am working my way through a wordpress.org class. I’m back to learning Italian.

And I’ve successfully gained 6 pounds. I’m so proud. Now, to be fair, I gained most, if not all, of those pounds while I was on medication after I smashed my hand. And I’m back on some of it since I slipped and threw my back out again. Woo-hoo!

But the pounds have to Go. Away. Now.

That sounds so easy. I mean, I’ve lost weight before. Today I weigh what I weighed the day before I had SD. And a pound less that what I weighed the day I brought SS home from the hospital. What can I say. He craved Cheetos and Twix bars for nine months. It was not pretty.

But when I lost baby weight, I wasn’t injured. And the fact is, I have a life-long injury, so my days of playing racquetball and lifting 15,000 pounds on weight machines a couple of times a week in order to stay fit are gone. No running. No high-impact anything. Zumba? My chiropractor and physical therapist both burst out laughing and started planning early retirements.

But I can walk. And according to the Prevention Walk of Weight program, I can lose weight walking. Of course, that program doesn’t say anything about cake. And I like cake. As a source of frosting, which I’m pretty sure is one of the food groups.

Here’s what I know from the few years that I was working out and learned that muscle feels different than fat. I feel better when I work out. I’m happier. In theory I eat less, although I haven’t seen that in the past few weeks. But I can dream. I can walk. And if I can do both of those, I can probably cross a few more things off my To Do list. Like organize my new office space. Or write a book.

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2 Billion Calories

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Yesterday I burned roughly 2 billion calories. OK, according to mynetdiary, the app that tells me how many calories are in the evil chocolate chip cookies, I burned 978 calories yesterday doing yard work.

My body certainly agrees I worked hard yesterday. Five hours into the yard work, I called it quits, took a shower and a Tramadol and prayed that I could move today. And when Scout Son came downstairs for breakfast, I did get out of bed and stumble to the bike in the living room to read Getting Things Done while working out. Strength training is off the list for today. There’s no way. But the bike seemed reasonable. So did a couple of Advil and glucosamine.

Here’s the thing. I’ve worked out just about every day since I lost the day job. So can someone please explain to me why the scale is going in the wrong direction?

Yeah, I know. Water. Drink water. I am drinking water. I had 6 glasses yesterday, a cup of decaf, unsweetened hot tea and a V-8. I should be hydrated.

And I think I would be hydrated if I weren’t taking decongestants, pain killers and french fries. Do I see the problem? Of course I do. Dunkin Donuts is not conducive to losing weight, regardless of how many calories you’re burning. Neither is Wendy’s. It’s not like I planned those meals. OK, I totally planned the donuts. I was spending the morning with one of those happy government offices, I deserved a prize. After all, there was a fair chance it was going to be my last meal for about a week while I waited in line.

If it had been my last meal, I probably would have been OK. But several hours later, I stumbled out of their office, starving. What? Donuts have no nutrients? The latte had milk. So, of course I needed to get something to eat. Wendy’s has some nutritional value. There was protein. And fries. And salt.

Then there was St. Patrick’s Day. Yes, we have totally ruined it and the Irish are not happy with us. I don’t blame them. So yes, corned beef and cabbage and bangers and mash. And a couple of Guinness. But the mimosa was healthy.

Hmm, this was supposed to be a rant on power equipment and how poorly it’s designed. If the pressure washer had started I wouldn’t have spent five hours doing yard work. And burned a bazillion calories. Maybe if I drink a couple of gallons of water and flush out the salt and medications, I’ll see the benefits.

Tune in tomorrow and maybe I’ll write that rant about the inequity of right-handed power tools. After I have a donut.

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Cookies are Evil

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

I need to start packing my lunch. This is highly amusing since I’ll be packing it to go to… the living room. I thought working from home would mean that I could lose weight. After all, I’d be able to work out every day. And I have.

But there are cookies.

Yeah, there were cookies and ice cream and Mexican food and omelets and lattes and bagels… OMG. There was a ton of good food at the day job. But I could ignore a lot of it. Well, some of it. And I could ignore the vending machines.

Here, the cookies sit on the counter. Under the microwave. And they call to me. They’re really good. And evil. I can mostly ignore the Wallyworld fake Oreo’s. Well, I can stop at one. But then there are the chocolate chip cookies that I made. With butter. They’re really good with a glass of chardonnay. Just saying.

It seems I don’t work out enough to cover a lunch of chocolate chip cookies. Which is a bummer. But I’m not planning on working out a lot more than I am now. Heck, I went from twice a week to daily. That should say something. And it should be affecting the number on the scale. Or is that effect. Agh. Verb, noun, you know what I mean.

But the numbers aren’t moving. They were. And then the cookies called.

So I’m seriously thinking of packing my lunch. If it isn’t in the bag, I can’t eat it. Is it crazy for me to move a dorm fridge into my living room?

On the up side, I feel stronger, feel like I look better, have less stress and ¾ of a book plotted. Now, if the dog would stop walking by happily – very happily – and rearranging scenes until I can get the final plot figured out, it would be good.

And worthy of a cookie. Or two.

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Nothing But Good Times Ahead

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

I came home on Thursday, looked at the kids and said, “I lost my job today, but We. Will. Be. Fine.” I believe that. In my head I keep hearing Sophie Dempsey from Jenny Crusie’s Welcome to Temptation saying, “Nothing but good times ahead.”

Of course, I channel Sophie a lot. She’s sort of my idol because in the face of all sorts of adversity, she keeps the family going and makes sure everything is all right.

Now, if you and a million of your friends buy The Heiress and Her Fake Fiancé , then everything would be okay, and I could continue to write and spend time with my kids. Those two things were sorely lacking while I was working the day job with the hour-long commute each direction.

People keep telling me, “You’ll bounce back.” “You’ll get something better than what you had.” “When one door closes, another opens,” and all sorts of other great sayings that we all tell someone when their life has just gone to hell and they’re wondering how on earth they’re going to make ends meet.

The thing is, I’m not stressed about this. I should be. I really should be. It’s not like I had a cushion. But at the end of the day, that job was making me miserable. The only issue now is, I don’t know what to do. I mean, obviously, assuming book sales don’t go through the roof, I need to find another day job.

But I don’t know what that job should look like. The problem tends to be that if you ask me what I want to be when I grow up, I’ll tell you a novelist. But until that makes enough to be the day job, I need something else. I have a lot of experience in a lot of varied areas due layoffs over the years. That gives me a lot of possible roads to go down, but I don’t really care which one I take because the day job is not my passion. I know. “Do what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.”

Well, I work every day. I’m okay with that as long as I have time to follow my passion. And whatever I do, I give it my all. It doesn’t matter whether or not I’m passionate about it. If my job is to make sure the stamp on your letter is perfectly straight, it will be. So I will look for a job that I simply don’t hate. If it involves writing, that’s good. That’s fun.

In the meantime, I guess I can’t complain about no more time to plot the next book, can I?

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What Happens on the Van…

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

So, I spend two hours a day commuting to and from the day job. When I started taking the vanpool I thought those would be two hours a day that I could write. I mean, I’d heard about our vanpools.

People don’t talk on them. Ear buds in, low enough that nobody else can hear them. Laptops open. No talking. Written rules. Did I mention no talking? So it seemed like the perfect place to write a book every day. Two hours a day with no internet, no kids, no dogs. Perfect.

I didn’t take one thing into account. I didn’t get one of the lame vanpools. I got the party bus. We have rules. We even thought about writing them down. But in order to come up with the rules, we would have had to keep minutes. And that breaks rule number two: what happens on the van, stays on the van. That’s right, we’re mobile Vegas.

What’s rule number one?

No pictures on the van. That one popped up because in the early days we were kind of quiet in the morning and some people would fall asleep. And some of us might be just slightly evil enough to think that pictures of people drooling in their sleep would be good blackmail material.

But there are a couple of us who are morning people, and a couple of us who just enjoy having adult conversation, and the group grew, and now I give a speech to the new folks who join the van. It’s pretty short.

“If you were looking for the quiet van where you could work, this isn’t it. Rule number three is no talking about work. We try to keep to it, but some days are better than others. Conversation runs from Disney-rated to not-even-close. If you want to not hear anything sit up front; if you want Disney sit next to her. Do not sit next to us. We apologize in advance.”

What?

We tried reining it in once or twice. It didn’t work. The reality is, if you want peace and quiet, you quickly find another van. One that doesn’t have parties. Or cake.

So, I know, you’re wondering. If what happens on the van is supposed to stay on the van, why can I write about it? Seriously? I’m a writer. There was an unspoken exemption. Okay, it wasn’t so much unspoken thing as them looking at me and saying, “no writing about us” and me laughing out load and saying, “right, how about no names?”

So I pretend that I’m going to work on the van. I bring my laptop. I even open it. And then I hear about everyone’s lives and get material for my books. But no names. I promise.

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Coon Hunting Trials

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

Last night, the dogs started going crazy. Snarky Daughter checked and saw two people with flashlights in the backyard. Here is the rest of the story:

SD: Mom, there are people in the back yard with flashlights.

Me: Of course there are, because I wanted to go to bed at 9. <Glance at time on computer. 15 minutes to go> Release the hounds.

SD: OK.

I put the computer down, sigh heavily, think dark thoughts about redneck sports, get up and head to dining room window.

Me: Sure enough. LED flashlights too. Wonder if they bought those at Lowe’s. grumble, grumble… <Walk outside on back porch> You need to get the hell off my land!

Dumbass Trespassers: <ignore pissed off woman and keep looking at tree next to shed 50 feet from house>

Me: grumble…<go inside, dial 911>

911: What is the address of the emergency?

Me: I give the address

911: What’s the emergency?

Me: I’m a woman alone at home with two kids. We’ve got two people in our backyard with flashlights. I’ve yelled at them and they didn’t respond.

911: They didn’t respond?

Me: No. They are also undeterred by the German Sheppard and Doberman I sent out to greet them.

911: We have a unit on route. Do you feel safe or do you need to stay on the phone?

Me: <At this point I’m thinking, really does staying on the phone keep me alive?> I’ve got a shotgun. I think I can escalate this if needed.

911: Ma’am, you do what you need to to protect yourself and family.

Me: Yes, sir. Thinking: Sweet, I’ve had a heck of a day and 911 just gave me permission to shoot someone.

<walk to bedroom closet>

SD: Mom, you keep the shotgun in the closet???

Me: Yep. Better question. Where are the shells? <find shells, pull one out>

DA Trespassers eventually leave, about 2 minutes before Deputy pulls up.

Me: They headed toward that road <pointing>. They have LED flashlights. You can’t miss them.

Deputy: They have dogs?

Me: Yep.

<he drives off and comes back a few minutes later>

Deputy Dog (he was K-9, Sheppard was in the car): Well I found them. There’s a reason they didn’t respond. They’re about 80 years old. I wanted to ask if they were legal to drive. Coon Hunting Trials are going on through Sunday, so you’re probably going to have several people end up out here.

Me: Excellent. Because what I want is a string of strangers with guns in my yard.

Deputy: They don’t have guns. It’s not Coon Season.

Me: Thinking Seriously, we have a season for coon? If you’re going to tree a “big ol’” coon in my yard, kill it. Save my dogs some time and me a vet bill.

Deputy: Now, if you see some guys in paramilitary gear carrying machine guns in your woods, call me.

Me: You think?

Deputy: You know when the military helicopters come flying low around here? That’s Special Ops training. We get a heads up because their weapons aren’t loaded and they’d like it if we didn’t kill them when they’re creeping through the field behind Food Lion. I’ve only seen ‘em drop out of the helios once. I drove around for hours and never saw ‘em.

Me: That’s cool. <good upbringing kicks in> Really sorry you and your partner had to come out here for coon trials. Would he like a Milkbone? I’ve also got pie if you’d like a slice to go…

So a couple more nights of fun for me. I’m thinking of serving cookies. Or buying more shotgun shells. Not sure which.

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New Reading Slump

~ kimberly ~ Leave a comment

I could tell you I don’t have a To Be Read pile, but that would be a big, fat lie. And I don’t want to lie here. I mean, we all smile and lie through our days, “Yes, I understand” when it’s all still fuzzy, “No, I don’t want that doughnut” when all you can think of is the frosting melting on your tongue, and the mother of all lies, “I’m fine,” when all you want to do is kick something.

But there shouldn’t be lies here. Part of this exercise is to get me writing daily again. (Let’s not talk about last week. It was a particularly depressing week at the day job, the ramifications of which will be felt for months to come.) But it’s also to figure out where I am, where I’m going, what I want to be when I grow up, etc., etc. and I can’t lie to myself or you guys about that.

So I have a very large To Be Read pile. In fact, it’s several piles spread here and there throughout the house. Everything from the Boy Scout Merit Badge Requirements Book to Fire in Fiction to It’s All Too Much. But if you take a look at those titles, you’ll notice a common theme: they’re all non-fiction.

This is bad. Really bad. Some of the books throughout the house have been on my list for close to a decade. Yeah, I get it. They’re probably never going to be read. But a girl can dream. Being a planner, I had a plan at one point. Ten pages of non-fiction a night and then I could read what I wanted. This worked for a while until I hit a very boring book, which killed the urge to read non-fiction for a while (and was summarily given away to the library).

The lack of fiction is because I don’t have any great new author suggestions coming in. But fate has a way of correcting for these issues. In my case, it came when I helped a technologically challenged friend hook her computer back up Friday night.

Her: “Hey, have you read Dorothea Benton Frank?”

Me: “Nope, never heard of her.”

Her: “She writes fiction that takes place in the south, like Pat Conroy. I’ve heard good things.”

Me: “Sounds good.”

That should have been the end of the story. But then on Saturday I was running an errand in the used book/DVD/music store. Yes, really. I was in the checkout line waiting for them to get my not-at-all-what-I-came-in-looking-for DVDs, when I glanced down at the package deals of select authors they had at the register. There’s Dorothea.

Since it was taking some time to find the DVDs, I picked up the 3-pack. They were tied with Christmas ribbon to keep anyone interested in back cover copy from getting a taste. I carefully worked the ribbon off a corner so I could pull the books out and take a look. Hooked by the end of the first cover. By the time the cashier came back – it might have been Sunday night – the ribbon was a thing of the past and I was reading the opening pages. Somehow this threw the cashier for a loop, but really, what did she expect me to do with a book? It’s not like I took the pricing sticker off of it. All the components of the package were right there.

So anyway, I’m trying out Dorothea (and will be sharing her with my friend). Who have you discovered lately?

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