Today

It's dark outside yet.
A few hours until the sun rises.
We've had mild weather for all of November.
It makes the winter seem a month shorter.
I like that.
This time last year, winter had settled in
and the long, dark days stretched out before us
like a cat.
No purring around here about that.

Today.
The privilege of buying groceries.
Having gas in the vehicle to go to town.
My Christmas shopping is nearly done.
It will be done before the month is over.
I'm grateful for the blessings of life.
Which really have nothing to do with material things.
But with the peace in my heart.
A new day.
Opportunities abound.
Let's make the most of it.
(7528 words to go on the novel.)

Peeking At Jesus

I will never win an award for housekeeping.
I am surrounded by sister-in-laws who keep orderly houses
as if it is no effort at all. I have never seen their homes
in the kind of disarray mine is in on a regular basis.
Not even when I've popped in unannounced.
One of them who has things just so.
I love the way it looks.
It isn't uncomfortable, just so orderly.
I sometimes ask dearest one if he doesn't wish
our house was like that.
He shudders and says no.
I know he would do something on purpose to wreck
the orderliness of it if I all of a sudden
improved my housekeeping skills.
He'd drop his coat in the middle of the floor and leave it there just
to remind me to relax a little. Which often baffles me because he is an
orderly person by nature.
I often feel bad he married someone who
has to work so hard to pick up after herself.
I do pick up after myself but it might be several weeks in the coming.
And I squeeze the toothpaste tube from the middle, too.

I used to be an all or nothing person when it came to housekeeping.
Either total chaos or complete spotlessness.
Woe to anyone who wrecked the couch cover which
wrinkled up if someone so much as sat on it.
I don't miss those days.

Yesterday I spent the bulk of the day cleaning and
getting rid of piles of papers and such.
Last night I plugged in the mini Christmas lights
that have been on the top of the kitchen cupboards
for several years already.
I always mean to take them down, or at least vacuum
the dust off them, in between one Christmas and another
but so far it's just a pleasant thought.
When I plugged them in last night and surveyed the cleaned off
countertops and the warm glow I thought to myself,
"Yes, it's that time of year again."

I unwrapped the Advent calendar and set it up on the diningroom table. A table that a few hours earlier was strewn with newspapers and books and empty tea cups and the like. The calendar has sparkles and a nativity scene. I haven't had one like that for years. The stores here only offer ones of Santa Claus or Mickey Mouse. It always strikes me as odd to have Advent calendars like that. I don't think they call them Advent calendars, though. Just 24 numbered little doors with chocolates in them. When I was a child my great aunt (the one who I've modeled the novel on) bought an Advent calendar for the girls bedroom and one for the boys. I loved that little calendar. It had sparkles and a Nativity scene. I also couldn't wait to see what was behind those little doors. I remember my panic when I went ahead and peaked behind number 24 and then tried to make it stick back down like I hadn't opened it. It was one of those things that migh set my mom off and well, it would have been a little, okay a lot, ironic to beat a kid for peeking at Jesus, you know?

Well, didn't this post veer off into something I didn't see coming. There's no neat and tidy way to wrap it up either. I'm just thankful that clean house or not, impatience at waiting, or what.have.you Jesus embraces us in it all.

Quiet Expression Of Our Inner Life

"I do believe that one day I won't even take so much notice of my life but let it be as it is and trust that as I open myself to God, God continues to work behind the scenes. The outcome in some ways, is none of my concern."

I wrote that in a post last week. This morning, courtesy inwardoutward, was a quote by Thomas Merton that says it so much better.

In the Quiet of Our Own Being

It is useless to try to make peace with ourselves by being pleased with everything we have done. In order to settle down in the quiet of our own being we must learn to be detached from the results of our own activity. We must withdraw ourselves, to some extent, from the effects that are beyond our control and be content with the good will and the work that are the quiet expression of our inner life. We must be content to live without watching ourselves live, to work without expecting any immediate reward, to love without an instantaneous satisfaction, and to exist without any special recognition.

Source: No Man Is an Island by Thomas Merton

Racing Towards The Finish Line

I reached the 40K mark in my novel last night
by sheer grit and determination.
The more I try and hit these milestones the more
convinced I am that the whole book is crap.
I won't be doing this next November.

I may write another book.
I do have another one that I've carried
around in my head for nearly 10 years.
And a children's book for nearly that long, too.
But never again on such a short deadline.
It takes the enjoyment out of it.

I know now that a detailed outline works for me.
It doesn't detract from the actual writing of the book.
Too bad I only had that done for part of this book.
I'm making things up as I go now.
Dearest one gave me an idea last night
and that netted me several thousand words.
Then I remembered something I'd written on a scrap piece of paper,
a two word term,
and that gained me several thousand more.
I put a little sticky note over the word count calculator
so I can't obsess about every word as I type.
I only peeked every so often
and either groaned that I was 200 words further on
or felt quite pleased with myself when I'd added 2,000.
Okay, in all honesty, I never waited between peeks that long at all.
I pulled the sticky note away for night when I reached 40,044.

I have 5 days left to write the last 9,956 words.
I told dearest one last night that I would much rather be
editing the book right now than adding to the word count.
He said that at the rate I was going I could have the book done
in two more nights and then start editing.
I told him that once I'd reached the 50K mark
I was going to stick the book in a drawer
and forget about it for a while.

I've never been great at finishing things I start.
I love coming up with new ideas or projects.
I have unfinished cross stitch and crocheting projects
stuffed in drawers.
There are places in my home that are half organized
and half danger zone.
The cupboards have ingredients I thought would make a great new recipe
only to find that I still don't like curry.

How can you tell that not following through is one of my character defects?
So while I may continue to bitch and moan for the next 5 days
or until I reach 50K,
secretly (shhh, don't tell anyone)
I am pleased to be racing towards the finish line.
This story has been my companion for 25 years.
How strange to be writing a young adult novel
only to find myself growing up somewhat in the process.

A Size Smaller

I'm playing Scramble on Facebook as an avoidance tactic for writing on my novel. I have 6500 words due today and I feel lost. I know where I'm going with the story but I don't know how to get from here to there. Thankfully it's just the book that feels like that today.

Yesterday during Mass I felt very small. Some people would term it "cut down to size." I don't mean that in any bad, negative self talk kind of way. Rather, in a I'm not God and I've just remembered that again kind of way. I need reminding. It's far too easy for me to think I am God and then to act like I am and to put out vibes to the world that I think I am, too.

Tread Softly

In preparation for a conversation that I really didn't want to have, I sat in silence for 20 minutes this afternoon. In those 20 minutes I opened myself up to what God might have to say to me. I was struggling with wanting to blast this person. Into my head came the phrase tread softly. That's the only thing that surfaced in the 20 minutes that felt like guidance. And it kept surfacing. At the end of 20 minutes the person I wanted to speak with arrived but not by themselves so the opportunity to speak to them vanished. I was relieved. I don't tread softly very well. I'm more likely to stomp all over the place. I am open to learning a different way. I have always envied people who were diplomatic, who get their point across with diplomacy and firmness. This past week Fr. Charlie ran several scenarios past me - giving me an opportunity to learn how to approach this situation differently - in a way that would get my point across and yet do no harm. He knows my style is more like a bull in a china shop. He has, after all, been hearing my confessions for nearly 4 years already.

In the end I had to step back and take a look at what was pissing me off. I sat there and did a step 4 in my head. I had to admit to myself that it had nothing to do with the other person. It was my stuff. My issues. My reactions. As much as I wanted to desperately point fingers I knew I would be side stepping my part if I did that.So it turned out to be a blessing to not have the opportunity to speak to this person in private. Our paths will continue to cross on a regular basis. Normally I would just avoid someone who triggers me, someone I don't like and would rather not be around. But that is not about to happen any time soon. I know my advice to someone else in this situation would be that the person who irritates you to no end is your best teacher. Embrace the opportunity. To quote Kathleen Norris from the previous post

"For grace to be grace, it must give us things we didn't know we needed and take us to places where we didn't want to go."

Lord, oh Lord, have mercy.

Places We Didn't Want To Go

"The comedy of grace is that it so often comes to us as loss, sorrow, and foul-smelling waste; if it came as gain, gladness, and sweetly scented flowers, we would not be grateful. We would, as we are wont to do, take personal credit for the unwarranted gifts of God. It is easy to be attracted to the idea of grace - which one dictionary defines as 'divine love and protection bestowed freely on people' - but much harder to recognize this grace when it comes as pain and unwelcome change. In the depths of our confusion and anger, we ask: "How can this be God's love? Where is God in this disaster?" For grace to be grace, it must give us things we didn't know we needed and take us to places where we didn't want to go. As we stumble through the crazily altered landscape of our lives, we find that God is enjoying our attention as never before. And maybe that's the point. It is a divine comedy."
~ Kathleen Norris in Acedia & Me(emphasis added)

I'd written a whole slew of thoughts to accompany this quote. Then I deleted them. Then I hit the pubish post button. Then I came back to write some more.

I find myself in much need of grace today. This afternoon I'll force myself to have a conversation that I feel not one ounce of courage to have. Earlier this week I told Fr. Charlie I'd have that conversation or would stop bitching to him about this person. Then, to lighten the atmosphere, I told him that I had to have the conversation otherwise I was going to end up in Reconciliation confessing that I'd told this person to fuck right off. And that, with my luck and the offending person's lack of comprehension of the English language, they wouldn't even understand what I'd told them and the wrath would be wasted.

And that would never do.

I know the big girl, sober,grown up thing to do is have the conversation. I will feel better and will go from being reactive to proactive. And I'll have avoided being mean and nasty, too.
I will have done my part and then hopefully can let go of it.
Fear has held me back from having the conversation.
I wish I could elaborate on that part of it here, but I can't.
This person's presence in my life is making me come face to face with some deep rooted fears and so, in that way, they are a gift. Hopefully in time, I'll be grateful for that.

Let There Be Light

A new day.
I laid in bed this morning for a while and prayed.
I feel really calm.
And full of hope.
Whatever life throws my way today
I don't have to handle all on my own.
It's good to know that.

I'm headed to town for my AA meeting.
The roads are in decent condition.
I have no inkling to go into the mall.
For some reason all the holiday decorations are driving me batty.
They're disorientating.
Is that even a word?
All the decorations and hype in the stores make me feel dizzy.

I am however, looking forward to the beginning of Advent.
I'm really glad that the first day of Advent is the last day of NaNoWriMo.

A Slow, Demanding Generosity

I'm turning down the corners on favourite pages of the library book I'm currently reading. Wouldn't that get a harsh look from my grade three teacher if she could see me now! The other night as I was reading I realized I should have a stash of sticky notes by my side. My grade three teacher would have loved sticky notes.

Here's a bit that got my attention last night as I read:

"'What God does in us always produces humiliy,' writes the Carmelite Ruth Burrows. "All that comes from self, be it delight or suffering, tends to boost the ego. She regards any authentic religious experience as entailing 'a slow, demanding generosity,' one that does not short-circuit within us but flows outward naturally, until what we believe becomes what we do. The thrust of many self-help authors,however, seems to be to assure people that the ultimate goal of their spiritual practice is to reveal what good and deserving people they are."

As I read this quote I thought of the handful of times when I was greatly humbled by the work of God in my life. Times when I was keenly aware that the change within had nothing whatsoever to do with me but with God. Times when those things that I cannot change on my own strength were somehow different. It always feels like a miracle when God does for me what I cannot do for myself. I often wish that feeling of humility would last forever, it is such a softening and openness, of walls down and brokeness, but soon I am back into my own ego driven life. The above quote does give me great hope, though. I do believe that one day I won't even take so much notice of my life but let it be as it is and trust that as I open myself to God, God continues to work behind the scenes. The outcome in some ways, is none of my concern.

Pages Of Life

"Writing fiction is like being an alcoholic. You create a crisis and immerse yourself in what happens next."

There was collective laughter yesterday when I shared that piece of information before the AA meeting started. My home group is being incredibly supportive as I slog my way through NaNoWriMo. When someone added that fiction couldn't hold a candle to the real life experiences of active alcoholics more laughter followed.

Being able to laugh with others about what fuck ups we've all been is precious to me. We've all been there, same story, different description. You know how uncomfortable it can be when you're in a group of people where someone is not embracing their humanity? (I'm talking about myself here). In recovery the key word is all. Our sanity depends on us not pretending we're unique, not set apart as other than human. What a blessed relief.

Letting go of creating a crisis in real life, not being a drama queen, looking at situations as they really are without minimizing or inflating their impact; that all takes practice and intention in recovery. As my recovery progresses I find it easier to accept the every day, revolving nature of life. It's a sign of health for me to not go looking for the drama, to accept life on life's terms, and to be content with what is. Of course I do all of that imperfectly but as I said later on in the day with my family doctor, there is no going back to that place where denial trumps awareness. Sure, some days I wish it would, and some days it does, but thank God it's only momentarily.

Take yesterday. I'd had my shower, was cleaning out my ears with a Q tip, when instead of seeing the normal wax build up there was dried blood on the end of the cotton swab. I went from oh, that's weird to OMG my ear drum must have burst and I didn't even notice it(as if that is possible) in a nanosecond. Then rational mind kicked in and I realized it really was no big deal, I'd had no ear pain at all, at the worst a tiny bug got squished in my ear, and I went on with my day. When I related the whole thing to my doctor he smiled and humoured me with looking in that ear only to reiterate what I'd come to earlier. It was no big deal. My ear drum was fine.

Writing a book is, in part, about keeping the "what ifs" coming. Today, when I try to add a few thousand more words to my novel, I'll dream up a crisis or two, wonder about the impending what ifs, and write down what happens next. I'm just grateful that it's work to dream it up, that drama is slowly finding its rightful place in my life, between the pages of a book, not the pages of my life.

Prevailing

I have 45 minutes before my doctor's appointment so here I am, typing as fast as I can. It was a shock to the system to have the alarm go at 5 AM so that I could come into town with dearest one. I am not, never will be, a morning person.

Last night I churned out the words and reached the 30,000 word mark in NaNoWriMo. As I wrote only daughter yesterday:

We will prevail, we will prevail, we will prevail.

It's sunny, there's no snow falling and that makes the day wonderful. Time with dearest one on the way to town was great, too.

Have a great day.

PH Awareness Day

I opened my email this morning to find a note telling me today is PH Awareness Blogging Day. You can find a list here of bloggers who are participating. This is something dear to my heart. Please take a look at the links and educate yourself. I'm quite sure there are lots of people out there misdiagnosed with some other lung problem when it's really PH.

In the beginning, when I first got sick, the powers that be thought I might have PH. My friend Karen who passed away in August had PH and it was ultimately what caused her death.

Part of the reason my blog has the word breathing in it is because when I started this blog nearly 4 years ago breathing was something I really didn't take for granted. On the worst days I could talk or breathe but couldn't do both at the same time. (Me? Choosing not to talk? What a concept!) It was a long road to a diagnosis. At one point a specialist stuck me in the hospital for 10 days and ran all kinds of tests. They even flipped me over to repeat one CT scan to double check for abnormalities in the vessels in my lungs. In the end they took the chance and put me through a risky heart catheterization, the gold standard test for PH. A risky test, because of my bleeding issues, which showed I was on the cusp of having PH. Had I been in the United States I would have been diagnosed and put on medication to halt the progression. The specialist told me there was no funding available for medication until my numbers reached a certain point. I looked at him and said, "You mean it's a crap shoot, then. Wait until the numbers rise so the government will pay for medication and hopefully it will halt the progression of the disease." He nodded. I felt very frustrated.

I don't know what happened. God only knows. A few years ago I had some prayer before I gave a talk at a retreat. I remember standing there afterwards and commenting to someone that I was breathing as clearly as I did when I was on oxygen. It felt surreal. A few months later my lung function tests showed an improvement. Eventually the specialist said I didn't need to see him anymore. Then, last year when I went to rehab and started dealing with a bunch of issues, my health improved even more. The days of having to count my spoons became a thing of the past. Our trips to town had previously very planned out, I was always dropped at the door and had to choose which stops were priority. These days I delight in parking as far from the door as I want. Yes, I still sometimes have rough days. Days when lifting my arms to shampoo my hair expends more energy than I can muster. Those days are very discouraging as I have no idea if they are temporary or the start of a downward spiral. Thankfully, they've continued to be temporary glitches.

It could have turned out so much different.
I try not to take my current health status for granted.
My friend Karen wanted nothing more than to live to see her 50th birthday.
For a long time I read the PH Message Boards for support and encouragment, especially when I had to deal with doctors who looked at me like I was just attention seeking. That if only I would lose weight and exercise my breathing problems would go away. They conveniently overlooked the fact that I had been doing just that when my problems surfaced. Please don't look at someone who is obese and on oxygen as if it's their somehow their fault. PH is high blood pressure in the lungs, which has nothing to do with diet, exercise, or weight issues. You can't prevent it. Skinny, fit people get PH, too. And there are others who look perfectly healthy but who struggle mightily to be out and about. So many times people would tell me I looked so good as if looking good nullified how I felt. I never bothered to tell them that on the very worst of days I never went anywhere, so they only saw me on my best days.

Take a deep breath and be glad you have the ability.
Trust me, if you can't breathe, nothing else matters.

Lawn Free

School buses are being cancelled today.
So much ice and snow make for wretched road conditions.
Lovely, lovely weather.
We're supposed to be in the lawyer's office this afternoon
to sign our wills, personal directives and power of attorney stuff.
Fatalistic thinking creeps in and I'm sure we'll be killed on the way to the lawyer's office before we can sign those papers.
That's how my brain wants to work.
But I'm trying to ignore it.
I think because dearest one has seen
so much death in his line of work,
we're a bit hyper aware that lives get cut short
all the time.

Sometimes I find myself wondering about people who die in accidents and how they start their last day on earth as normal as everyone else.
A few years ago I had an accident with the riding lawn mower. As the brakes failed on the lawn mower I was squished between the seat and that little A shaped bit at the end of the swing set. With only 6 inches to spare between the two I'm still a bit dumbfounded as to how I fit. Later I told dearest one how it felt like the seat of the lawn mower had tipped over backwards as I was squeezed between the two. We checked and the seat doesn't bend backwards. My throat was sore from where my neck rubbed against the bar as I squished under it. I must have turned my head at the last minute otherwise my chin would have caught on the bar. Makes me shudder to think of it, still. That incident really shook me up and I was grateful to not have any serious injuries from it. Dearest one was on a tractor in the field and out of cell phone range. I was pretty shook up and thought to myself, that's how quickly death happens to people all the time. My last thought as I went under the bar was that I was going to go under the bar. That was it until I came out the other side. Had it killed me, well, my last thought would have been something mundane. I have a bleeding disorder and internal bleeding would kill me quickly; that's what I was worried about the most when I was finally able to stop the mower. Man, I shook for a long time.

Well, that's kind of morbid to write about first thing in the morning. Didn't see that coming. It's been two years and this past summer I finally could mow the lawn on that side of the yard again although I panic easily if I think I'm in a tight spot. We replaced that lawn mower but I still prefer mowing in a wide open space to between trees and around that swing set.

At least with ice and snow there are no lawns in need of mowing.
Today, I'm grateful to have the gift of life.

Slogging It

There's still 3,000 more words to write tonight.
What, oh what will my main character do next
to warrant such a word count?
God only knows.
Slog, slog, slog.
What a puny problem to have
in the whole scope of life.

Same Old, Same Old, Thank God

Routine pleases me.

I don't know how others start or end their day but sometimes to entertain myself, I picture the people I'm with getting up in the morning and making their coffee, eating breakfast, getting ready for work and then picture a reverse routine in the evening. I find that comforting. We all have little routines that shape our days. Which makes me smile when I hear people bellyache that ritual is meaningless and pointless. Some of those people mean the rituals in church, especially the one I attend, yet I bet they get up and have their little morning routine that comforts them and adds to their day.

Yesterday my routine went out the window. My sinuses are on the warpath and this morning my one eyelid (the side that had the Bell's Palsy) is doing a slow ooze, just hovering on the tips of my eyelashes. Which means something's whipping my immune system good. Anyhow, yesterday was a full blown pajama day and I did nothing except sit on the couch, read and watch TV. Dearest one and I had time to sit and visit which was a bonus. I ate popcorn for supper.

Today the weather is doing its dance between winter and not winter. Freezing rain has been a reality more days than not the past while. Dearest one and youngest son will stay in town tonight, avoiding a 150 km round trip on roads that are less than ideal. The energizer bunny will hound me to take her for a walk. She'll bring me her toys and prance around hoping I'll play. She'll beg to nestle on my lap. Recently dearest one started a new game with her where he throws Cheerios in her direction and she jumps and catches them in her mouth. Right now she's snoring away on her blanket beside me. She knows my routine so well that she makes a detour into the office every time I go down the hallway. She always looks confused if I keep on going.

In the morning I get up and make my breakfast and eat it while I write a post and check my email. At 9:00 AM (which is in one minute) I log off email and go do something else. Hopefully today I'll go for a walk, do some housework, do some writing and enjoy a cup of tea. I'll make myself something tasty for supper and have a quiet evening.

In the midst of the uncertainty of life (which comes with the territory of not being God), I find ritual comforting.

Bit By Bit

It's early.
Too early.
I was so determined to sleep in today.
C'est la vie.
I'm listening to goldie oldies on the radio as I type.
Charley Pride and Merle Haggard's singing is comforting to me.

Yesterday I went to my AA meeting and then to a book launch for an author who passed away before her final novel was published. I sat in a room of 100 people realizing how rarely I put myself into a situation where most of the people are strangers to me. This particular author had been very encouraging to me about my writing over the years. She headed up the local writers group and although I haven't been to a meeting in a very long time she continued to call and remind me of the meeting every month. In fact she called just a few days before her unexpected passing. I'd never been to a book launch before so that was a new experience for me (thought of you BP!). Lord willing, I'll have one of my own one day.

Thank you for all your comments yesterday.
I often feel whiny when I ask anything of you.
Like I should just be able to suck it up and get over it.
But it's good to be vulnerable and human
instead of thinking I can do this all on my own.
I can't.
Pretending I never have needs is a lonely place to live.

Yesterday at my AA meeting I was able to share honestly
about the funk I'm in.
One person told me after the meeting to basically get over it.
I thought to myself, "It's way more important that I am honest about the funk I am in than pretending I'm fine." I've spent far too much time pretending in this life and it's never been worth it. I know the funk won't last forever and I just keep putting one foot in front of the other in the meantime. I look at all I have to be grateful for. I try to keep the bigger picture in focus.

There are people around the table who I want to put on a pedestal. They consistently walk the talk. I learn much from their experience, strength and hope. However, the sharing that touches me the most is when they are human and struggling just like the rest of us. It doesn't take away from their journey. It means I can trust them with my stuff.

The main character in my book is trusting that I will tell her story with integrity.
Last night the NaNoWriMo word count was 25,014. It feels like pulling teeth. Sheer grit and determination is what is getting my butt in the chair lately. I suck at commitments. Always have. I resist showing up for anything on a regular basis. I've been working on that character defect for a while now. Show up Hope. Do what you said you would. Expect more of yourself. And bit by bit what I commit to, I follow through on. I don't think I like it any better but it's one area I can grow up in.

Lately the journey has been a combination of knowing when to be gentle with myself and when to kick my own butt. I'm determined to hit the 50K word limit by the end of the month if for no other reason than to prove to myself I can follow through and finish something I started. This past June I told myself I was going to post something on the blog daily. I had a feeling then that I was following through on that commitment in preparation for something bigger. Now that November is here and the book is taking shape, I realize I was training myself to show up for that. In the whole scope of life it's really a small thing but I can feel a shift happening within as I continue to show up and write. Thanks be to God.

A Temporary Glitch

This is Saturday's post written on Friday night.
I am so, so weary tonight.
No spoons.
Not sure what's going on with my body
but I've been having problems with my heart racing
and lessening spoons for nearly 2 weeks now.
(I'll be seeing my doctor this week.)
Dearest one had to push the grocery cart in the store tonight
and I couldn't carry in any of the shopping bags.
I knew carrying them would make my heart go berserk.
I feel discouraged and weepy.
Long time readers know of the vast improvement to my health
that I've enjoyed since I came home from rehab
a year ago. How I went from having my days dictated by my
spoon supply to not giving them much thought at all.
If I have any say in it I'm not going back to that.
I hope this is a temporary glitch.
Lord have mercy.
Please delurk today, whoever reads this.
I just need to be reminded that I'm not alone on the journey.

Coming Into Focus

Friday.
But then you already knew that.
Appointments in town.
Freezing rain in the forecast again.
It's one way of wishing winter would settle in
once and for all.

I've reached that magical age
where I need glasses to read.
My arms were getting too short
to make the words come into focus.
Today that should be fixed.

Dearest one and I both looked at the clock last night
sure that it was past bedtime
we were both so tired.
It was 7 pm.
We both groaned.
And went to bed shortly after.
We were just about asleep when this loud breathing
jostled us awake.

Dearest one kidded me there was a bear outside the window.
Then we heard it again.
I went to the bedroom door to find
the energizer bunny with her nose under the door
wanting to come in in the worst way.
I should tell her she breathes loud enough
to get mistaken for a bear.

In High Demand

Butt glue was in high demand today as I churned out enough words to hit the 20,000 word mark in NaNoWriMo. Ugh. I sat and wrote out a synopsis on note cards first to see if what I had written so far made any sense. I was pleasantly surprised to find out it did. So then I wrote out some more cards as to stuff that needed filling in and a few more cards so I know where I'm going. Anyway, I am still amazed I am doing this. It is fun and it is so not fun.

Staying Put

It's snowing to beat the band out there and there's a wind warning to boot.
The last time there was a wind warning several huge trees came crashing down outside and one would have hit our bedroom window had it broken off closer to the ground instead of half way up the trunk.

Yesterday it was freezing rain so I cancelled my appointments and stayed home.

Here's a snippet of an email I sent to a friend this morning:

My NaNoWriMo writing feels like total drivel these days but I am continuing to add to it anyway. Anne Lamott calls them shitty first drafts but I'm sure mine must be diarrhea by now. :) And I'm behind on the word count by the thousands, too. Slow diarrhea then.

Those gall bladder attacks are wretched, simply wretched. We lived/worked on a dairy farm when I got mine out and we had access to as much fresh cream as we wanted. Foods high in fat are a no no for gall bladder problems and I made a pie and whipped up some rich cream and well, it was all downhill from there.

I will go light the candle and hold you all in prayer today. Just happened to light the green one the other day for you all -I call it my hope candle. Today I'll light the one I call the Mary candle. For some reason she gives me great comfort, especially for the stuff that worries a mother's heart. Whenever I am really down about parenting stuff and all the mistakes I've made, when I ask her to intercede for me I always end up in tears.

love,