Spinning My Wheels, They Go 'Round and 'Round

But I'm not in the mood for snow today. It was supposed to snow this evening, but I'm looking out the windows next to my computer this morning, and it's snowing. Quite a lot, and on my nicely cleared driveway. Of course I need to go to my writing group tonight in Boulder, so I'll just have to see how the day shakes out.

My brain has been spinning its wheels for quite a few days now. Sometimes I know why I can't gain traction, but I haven't got a clue about this time. The only writing I've done lately is in some letters and a short story I'm rewriting. I've made good on my threat to send out more of my fiction this year. So far, that is. I have an idea for a new book but it's ambitious and audacious. Can I pull it off? Can't hurt to try. Have you read Swamplandia! by Karen Russell? It's ambitious and audacious. Now she has a book of short stories out. The reviewers are saying it's even better than her novel. She has the balls to push the reader's belief, and does a great job.

I'm trying to plan a couple of short family visits to take place in the near future. Should I drive or fly? Tough choice. My granddaughters in Seattle are growing and changing at the speed of light and I miss them and their parents. My mother in California is slowly becoming light as a feather. I fear she'll blow away into the mists above the delta if I don't get out there soon. Of course, my intentions to travel have caused an anomaly in the fabric of the universe. My calendar is filling up with obligations. Family members may move in with us while they sell their house. My husband has taken on more work. Our cabin is still mud-bound and the time to deal with it is fast approaching. I don't have the time to sit here and spin my wheels.

Corbie-Crow

Show and Tell

If you made a list of adjectives to describe yourself while, at the same time, someone who is honest and not afraid of you made out their own list of adjectives about you, I don't think they'd be the same. Hopefully, there'd be some overlap of good adjectives, and not ones like crack whore or abusive parent.

There's what I show the world about myself, then there's what I choose to tell you. Am I an unreliable narrator? Sure. Who isn't? But some attributes cannot be hidden. I'm 60, wear glasses, and my hair is going grey. I look more like my father as I age, but I act more like my mother. (yes, I find both traits alarming)  My friends are tired of hearing me whine about my facial expression. The only reason I'd have a face lift is so that, when I smile, I'd actually look like I'm smiling, dammit! I can't change my green eyes or my wrinkles. All are fixed on my person.

But what kind of image are you trying to cultivate? Your choice of a car can be revealing, but not as much as your clothing and hairstyle. Even the absence of a car can score sanctimonious bragging rights. We're not supposed to judge others by their appearance, but how many factors do you take into account when choosing who to sit next to on the bus? (if you'll even stoop to riding public transportation) How many piercings and tattoos does it take to become your personal definition, and why? Have you split your tongue so it looks like a snake's? Have you had a boob job so large you should build a scaffold underneath? Did you marry a favorite pet just to upset your Republican parents? No? Then you can still stay on the island. Welcome to the broad category of normal.

Your past can enhance your persona or work against you. If you're older, what do you choose to reveal and to whom? This doesn't apply to young sprouts who haven't even got the seed pods off their heads yet. But, as an older person, I have a past. I love it because I was naughty, I survived my naughtiness, and because the statute of limitations, both legal and social, have expired. I've been mostly good for a long time now and feel like I've had the best of both worlds.

What do you choose to talk or write about? Politics? Saving the earth by not using paper towels and bumming rides from friends? The latest cat video that's gone viral? Your expression of your thoughts is possibly the most authentic revelation you can send out about yourself. If you dare, that is. 

What do you hide about yourself? What adjectives would pop up after a few drinks? We all have our dark side. Make a resolution to add a couple of new adjectives this year. Try charitable, healthy, or well read.

At some level, we're all squirrels.

My Mojo is Flat

Things were pretty quiet around here today. I was home waiting for a box to arrive, it arrived, and that was pretty much the high point of the day. My friend, J, came by later so that makes two high points.

She is ready to explore new horizons again.

I'm reading a book called Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson. It was published in 1980 and won the Pen/Hemingway Award. I had never heard of it until I picked it up in a thrift store. It's a hard book to put down. The writing is lovely, but what is strange is the story's point-of-view.  It's called the "Transparent Eyeball" POV, and the term originated with Ralph Waldo Emerson in his essay titled "Nature". Has anyone else ever heard about this? I'd figure it out if my mojo didn't have a slow leak.

Another thing that's bothering me is this package of beef flavored cat treats:

Isn't this just a little perverse?

Tattoos:Life is Full of Decisions

During an idle conversation with friends, I mentioned that I had always wanted a tattoo. One person was mildly interested in what the design would be and where it would be located, but the other friend acted upset that I would consider doing such a thing. I'm paraphrasing, but she essentially said that if I want a change in appearance, I should wear some makeup. (no! anything but that!)

First, I have never understood how people can have such a strong reaction to what other people choose to do within the arena of legal and responsible behavior. I've witnessed this behavior rear its head about haircuts, clothing, choice of music, makeup, and on and on. I remember when a woman who dyed her hair was a slut. It was clear as the nose on your face in the 50s, but things change. There are extremes of almost anything in life, and there's a big difference in taste. I've seen beautiful art transforming a woman's arm, but I also remember a barista who had a tooth pulled, so she had a big molar with four hefty roots tattooed on her arm to replace it. That's just silly.

Prison tatts are not the kind I'm imagining when I imagine my tattoo. It's essentially a permanent condition, so I say spend the money on a good tattoo artist. And don't go overboard. I like earrings but I don't want to hang them all over my body. Use body art as an enhancement, not to replace your clothing.

Anyway, I worry about the strong reactions, but I'll probably do it anyway one of these days. Good tattoos are expensive so it'll have to work its way up my prioritized list.

#

I went out to the ranch today. Because of the wind, the air was crystal clear. An eagle was riding the wind above the plains. 

Haystack Mountain

Cold Starting My Brain

I woke up this morning with the best of intentions. I'm out of my writing groove because of my granddaughter's hospitalization, which followed my own illness, segueing into my daughter and husband getting sick. So here I sit, hoping to get back into the writing habit. I have a novel to rewrite, dammit! And short stories to submit. I turned on the computer and opened Word. Then I turned on the television to get my morning news fix. The cruise ship from hell was on my mind. I'm grateful those people are finally on dry land. I consider those floating cities to be a dangerous abomination so this reinforcement of my prejudice was fascinating. Then there's a news story about a meteor exploding above Russia. Holy crap! I turned off the TV and looked at the chapter I had revised about a month ago. Pure dreck. I pounded my head on the surface of my desk and wondered if coffee laced with vodka  tastes terrible. It does. I turned the news back on. A comedian was being interviewed. He said he approached fatherhood like a king. He would create people then rule them. I laughed then turned it off. A comedian is not real news.

What's up with boats that hold thousands of people, cruising around the dangerous oceans? I've seen a documentary that showed the largest cruise ship ever. With a few clicks, I'm able to "research" the largest cruise ship ever. Holds 5,400 fragile human beings. The crew is 2,200 strong. Oasis of the Seas has 21 swimming pools, a mock Central Park, and I could go on about the bowling alleys, casinos, movie theaters, and shops. So why not get more bang for your buck and go to New York City, Paris, or even Tokyo? In fact, I'm wondering why the casino crowd in Nevada doesn't just go out into the desert and build a big dome, add some water, and stick a cruise ship in the middle of it. You can't tell me people go on cruises because they love the water.

But I digress.

Maybe I'll stop trying to write fiction and move onto haiku. Maybe there's a market for limericks these days. I could try to pen 50 Shades of Writers Block, or maybe I'll just take my "coffee" and go watch the happy birds at the bird feeder.

This is what it looks like inside my head today.

Life, Interrupted

My life, including the subset of writing, was interrupted when our granddaughter was hospitalized with pneumonia and RSV last Wednesday night. She's a dynamic little girl who is only 2 years and 9 months old, and is known for her energy and sense of humor. Someone was with her for her entire stay in the hospital and, I'm happy to say, she returned home on Monday night. She's feeling much better but still has to use oxygen some of the time.

The hospital environment was no fun for anybody. She was too young to understand anything that was going on, but was too sick to care at first. We knew she was recovering when she started fighting back. To her, oxygen was her enemy, as was the blood pressure cuff. Anyone who entered the room wearing a mask was scary, and raising the sides of her bed (making it like a crib or a cage) enraged her. There was a special vest that vibrated to loosen up the gunk in her lungs. Anyone would have hated it, especially if woken up every four hours to get rattled around. She would sometimes remove the oxygen sensor from her toe, and once dislodged her IV needle. Replacing that one was painful.

The only place for the adult to sleep was an awful recliner. It would start to fold up if you took your weight off the back part. It was very hard to get up out of, and I had to get out of it often. I slid off the foot rest and onto the floor the first night. (I learned not to use a slippery bottom sheet.) The longest I ever slept at one time was 45 minutes. There were a lot of medical personnel visits, day and night, and the monitor beeped every time her oxygen dipped below 90, even though 85 was considered acceptable. The construction in the floor above our room began at 7:15 in the morning. Imagine a saw going through steel just a few feet above your head.

Just as she became feisty when her strength was returning, I became bored when I wasn't worried any longer. The constant noise of a hospital drives me crazy. I forgot to ask what the hell happens out in the hallways at 5 AM every morning. It suddenly sounds like the army is driving through. Doors slam, people talk, and carts rattle by. By 6:00, things have calmed down again.

By the end of her stay, she was charming the nurses and doctors. We received permission to walk the hallways to visit the playroom and the lounges. She was starting to enjoy her visit with the availability of pancakes all day long, a television at her command, and the discovery of Fruit Loops which, sadly, are not allowed at home.

She's getting her energy back

Eating ice and watching the Sprout channel

Reading lots of Go Dog Go

It's Lonely in Crazytown

I was watching the Dr. Phil show today, listening to him counsel a woman about listening to her instincts. Being "nice", while feeling afraid of a person, almost got her killed.  It was all good advice and common sense stuff. Then my doorbell rang.

A petite woman, a little younger than me, was standing on my porch with an adorable King Charles Spaniel puppy. She was well-dressed and had a nice car parked at the curb. She introduced herself as Rebecca and said she had just bid on a house further down on our street, but had lost the bid. But, God showed her the house she would buy instead, and it was our house. I told her that I was sorry but our house wasn't for sale. She asked, "Are you sure?"while looking incredulous. After all, God was involved in this real estate deal. I mentioned a Victorian across the street that was for sale. I said we had seen the inside and probably would have bought it instead had it gone on the market first. This was just what she wanted to hear. That Victorian had been her house when she was married. She and her husband had restored and even added on a second story to that house before selling it. I suggested she purchase the house back, but now it was clear to her what God had in mind. She became much more enthusiastic. We were to buy the other Victorian, and she would buy our house. That's what God must have had in mind. We were getting seriously deep into crazytown now. I told her nicely that wasn't going to happen but I hoped she'd find some other nice house. This led into her story of being betrayed by her husband and being dumped, very recently, after 31 years of marriage. She was  a completely lost soul and standing on my porch. I admired the puppy for a bit before she was finally cold enough to leave. She wouldn't go until she got me to say I'd pray about selling the house to her. I said I would.

There was a time when I would have invited her inside because I feel sorry for her. I feel guilty for not doing so, but I have to admit I would rather not try to reason with someone who gets her life coaching straight from God. A lot of people speak to God but very few show up at my house on his orders.

Now I'm sitting here wondering why my encounter with her left me feeling so bad.

Road to Recovery

The prospect of staying home yet another day didn't appeal to me. This is day 15 of my body betraying me, better known as having a persistent cold. I decided to drive by a few horse boarding stables in the area. I'm looking for a new stable that I can visit in the evenings, has an indoor arena, secure tack storage, and a bathroom. And I don't want to pay $500 a month! This limits my selection. The place where Cooper lives now has none of these amenities, but is inexpensive, the people are friendly, and the land is lovely. I drove by several stables that were located south of Longmont, and thought they all looked promising. As busy as I am in this stage of my life, I know I need the location to be closer to home.

After my soothing drive in the country, I went to the ranch to see Cooper. I was out for a total of 2 hours and came home exhausted.

Over on Nelson Road, I saw an eagle up close. I wish I could have gotten a picture.

The ranch road and lenticular clouds.

Cooper being a poopy-head.

Sick and Cranky

The only thing worse than being sick, is being sick then getting over it, only to relapse two days later. I am truly not in the mood for this turn of events. Steve took me on my customary drive in the country this morning. I think he planned to dump me out of the car on some deserted road, but must have chickened out. We went behind the hogback and explored the area around Carter Lake. There are a lot of campgrounds around that little reservoir, and a bunch of sailboats being stored around the marina. That must be one crowded lake in the summertime. We saw a lot of horses, particularly draft horses, and saw some deer for the first time in a while. This was the high point of my day.

Now the Superbowl is on the television. I'm waiting for the commercials with the Clydesdale foal but I usually fall asleep long before the good ads.

There's a good article by David Shields in the Sunday NYT magazine. "At a Certain Age, You're Building Only on Yourself". I'd try to summarize the article, but I'm too sick to muster up the energy required. If you haven't read any of his work, I recommend his new book, How Literature Saved My Life.

I'm hoping I wake up in the morning, miraculously cured. And I'm hoping I wake up in the morning. Why not cover all the bases in the hoping department?

I didn't know it was unsafe to eat while pumping gas.

That must be why I'm sick.

First Friday of February

February is my most-dreaded month but, so far, so good. Winter usually slogs along, requiring much endurance on my part, but the winter of 2012-2013 has gone renegade in a sunny, pleasant sort of way. It's hard to complain when it's so beautiful outside. I hate driving on the freeways during a snowstorm, but I've had to do very little of that. So, what do I have to complain about? I'll tell you. The lack of moisture in any form. After last year's horrific fire season, we really don't want to face another one with the potential to be every bit as bad. The only good thing to come out of the forest fires was the demise of some of the beetles that are adding to our troubles in the West.

I had to drive back to Longmont from Englewood at the peak of rush hour yesterday. I got in my car and realized I couldn't face crawling through Denver on I-25. I cut over to Federal Blvd. and drove north all the way to 144th, where I got back on I-25. Sounds crazy but it wasn't such a bad drive. Federal is an entertaining stretch of road. I saw at least 20 restaurants I'd like to try someday. And I always enjoy the beautiful Victorian houses, and other lovely old buildings, that are north of the stadium. The graffiti problem is the worst I've ever seen in Denver. I don't remember it being that bad when I lived in the area. Crossing 36, I moved into suburbia with its new grocery stores, greenbelts, and coffee places. By then it was dark and I was less enamored with driving someplace different.

One thing I hate is routine, so the drive did me some good. I arrived home only 20 minutes later than usual, and that included stopping for gas. It's kind of pathetic that Federal was a nice change of pace. I really need to go on a long road trip, and soon.

Look how clear that pavement is.