Friday, October 23, 2009

Shh...I have to whisper..

I have to whisper...I can't let my captor know I am trying to contact the outside world on company time.  You read it right...I am at work.  Wait a minute, you don't have a job do you? Aren't you retired?  YES, yes I am..or I was, it would seem. Now here I sit, trapped in this office.

Time is dragging by.  No, it's crawling. Actually, it doesn't seem to be moving at all..  I keep acccidently looking at the clock. It's like poking something dead with a stick. It's disgusting, but I can't stop myself.

How did this travesty happen you might ask? Well even if you didn't ask, I'm going to tell you. And since I don't know how to do one teeny, tiny little thing that would be even remotely helpful to anyone here at this office, I'm going to start at the beginning and give you the really, really long drawn out version.

Many years ago, in a land far, far away (Cooper Michigan) there was a happy mom with four VERY rambunctious little boys that took up all her time and energy..

Oh rats, here comes the boss.

They grew up. Her husband forced her out into the work world..

The End.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

A "novel" endeavor..

No, no, no,no, nooo!!! Why, oh why?! I can't believe it! What was I thinking?? I'm doomed!
It all started last night. There I was minding my own business. Reading a blog, choosing another from the ones that commented, going to their blog, picking another from the commenter’s, going to their blog... I was so far into the deep recesses of Blogdom, I could NEVER have backtracked my way out.

Suddenly up pops a little message on my screen. I have a note from Tori.  Ah Tori,  a dear friend and fellow blogger, she has been most helpful in guiding me through the do's and don'ts of blogging. Well let's see what "The Tor-ster's" up to tonight:

Hi Pam,
I don't know if you've ever heard of this:  You write a novel in a month. It starts November 1 and ends on the 30th (duh) . I am seriously considering doing this. I'm wondering if you'd like to take this crazy journey with me.

Let's see what I said:
Gee Tori, I’ve never even considered writing a book, I've got no ideas. 50,00 words? Wow. That seems like a lot of time and effort to put into something that would be awful. (See? See my response right there? I am using my deductive reasoning skills. It doesn't happen often. It's my inner-self quietly telling me no. No Pam, don't.)

Tori: Most of what results is CRAP, but that's half the fun. They expect crap. I have no idea what I would write either. I think that's part of it, just letting go, concentrating on hitting the word count goal w/o worry about the content.

Me: Hmmm ...I don't know...the time commitment.. the fiction thing. I wouldn't even know what to write about... (See, here again, that inner voice of reason)

Tori: We could encourage, commiserate, celebrate, procrastinate with each other! We could set small rewards for goals met. We could celebrate huge if we succeed. It would involve carbs....lots and lots of carbs...and alcohol {and maybe strippers}

Me: drooling slightly..Carbs? Oh my. Dang it all, she KNOWS I'm in the carb-less hell of Phase 1 on the South Beach Diet! (This is when I start to hum  a little. My inner-voice is still talking but I can't quite make out what it's saying. )

Tori: Maybe something surprising would come out of it, ya know. Bragging rights that you wrote a novel is one! No pressure really... I could do it alone I guess...I'd still luv ya...

Oh no! Poor Tori, I can't let her be alone in this.  (My inner-voice is now screaming bloody murder, "She LIKES being alone! She WANTS to be alone! Let her do it .. ALL alone!!!)

Me humming loudly..Well,  I guess it might be fun...and if there's carbs involved and they really just expect drivel... then, ...Okay, I'm in.   (My inner voice is now crazily rattling around  in my mental cupboards looking for a VERY sharp knife with which to cut off my two typing fingers.....)

I am not really a writer, I am a yammerer (this probably isn't a word, but you get the idea). My mind flits around like a butterfly, never landing in one place for too long. I think that's why I enjoy blogging. An idea comes, I ruminate on it for awhile, spit it out into the blogosphere and viola! I'm done and it's gone, never needing to be thought about again.

But another thing about me..I'm faithful. Once I tell ya I'm there, I am (just usually 15 to 20 minutes late).
I told Tori I would do this, and so I will. I will write a REALLY crappy, confusing, jumbled novel in 30 days time. So here I go:   "It was a dark and stormy night..."

Sounds fun... doesn't it? :-/
Care to join us?

Friday, October 9, 2009

He just doesn't get it. Why I Blog...

Last night in bed, my husband turned to me.  I could tell by the look on his face that this was not going to be the usual bedtime question (you know the one I mean). "Oh no", I thought, "here it comes".  I had been dreading this elephant in the room for weeks, dancing around it, all smoke and mirrors. He leveled his gaze looked deep into my eyes and asked...

"Why do you blog?"

I was a deer caught in the headlights. "Well, I blog because I...because it..." I sputtered. "Ooohhh, I don't know why!!" He just looked at me. "Oh" was all he said poor guy. But how can I tell him why,  when I don't even know the answer myself?

I have been spending a lot of time on my laptop lately...I mean A LOT of time...hours...days..weeks. I felt a little obsessed and slightly out of control. Sitting here tapping away with the dishes and laundry piling up around me. Still in my pj's at noon. It's been my guilty little pleasure, my "new love".

I have a better handle on my priorities now. I'm showering regularly again, the house is back in order. But still, even with the house sparkling and dinner in the oven, I have a tendency to jump up from the computer the minute I hear his truck in the driveway. (I have no idea why I do that.)

But back to the other why.  Hmm... blogging...why.. Well, it started by chance. An adorable, young college friend of mine began blogging and I really wanted to know what was going on in her gifted mind.  I read her blog, loved it and wanted to tell her so. To do this it seems, I had to have a bloggy thingy of  my own. No problem. I filled out the form, came up with a name off the top of my head, and posted a comment to my darling friend. There. Done. Wait...

My blog looked so empty compared to hers. All of a sudden it was like getting a new apartment. I had an empty space to fill, colors to choose, little gadgety furnishings to place here and there.  SO FUN! I loved it.

When I was finished, I thought it was beautiful. But now what?  What would I do if this really was my new apartment? I'd have some friends over! I'd invite them. But to what, a blog with no blogs? No words, no thoughts..oh, I couldn't have that. That would be like having no wine in the fridge! I decided then and there that I'd better write something.

I sat down at my computer with a nice hot cup of coffee, put my fingers on the keys and ....nothing, not one word, thought or idea. Eww. I found this a tiny frightening.. I tried harder...still nothing. When did I stop thinking, I wondered. Trying not to panic,  I was finally able to bang out a few words strung together. But the fact that I couldn't come up with any thoughts profound or otherwise worried me. Was this the start of my downward slide toward slack-jawed drooling in front of the TV??

I needed to do something to get my my mind ruminating NOW! So every few days I sit down to write. At first, thinking was a challenge (I can't believe I am even telling you this!), but I'm finding, the more I do it the easier it becomes. Kind of like exercising...only for the brain..

 As a somewhat newly empty-nest mom, blogging has helped me get through some tough times. Times of family moving,  hormonal issuesMichigan winters and having my only grandchild live far away.. But in reality, more than anything else, I blog to keep my mind humming on all cylinders.

And to keep this from happening to me:

Wouldn't you??

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

You've Been Warned..

This is your daily "what to wear" update from the good folks over at WWMT Weather:

Good morning West Michigan! How can they always be so lively?
(Massive amounts of Water Street Coffee me thinks!)
Anyway, back to the forecast: "We're all waking up dry this morning, by the end of the day though, we will all be much wetter.

A strong, fall storm will spread rain into West Michigan this afternoon. This rain will get steady during the evening and may bring a thunderstorm or two. Another big story will be windsWinds will rip across Lake Michigan tonight. Gusts could easily reach 40 mph; with a WIND ADVISORY expected for us."

Have a nice day. (What??)
WWMT Weather Team

This is very clear isn't it? It plainly states "There is a storm on the way. You've had fair warning, get ready now."

If I were like most horse owners, I would  spend the rest of the day bringing horses in to put their rain sheets on them, securing the barn doors and making sure all hay feeders and water tanks are full. But that's not the way I operate. I am wired (or miswired) so completely different, that MUST wait until the storm is emminent,  (lightning flashing on the horizon) before I even begin this process.

Then when the time is right,  (wind, rain, thunder, darkness perhaps), out I'll go with an armful of rain sheets whipping in the wind behind me. I head out to the field, talking softly and cooing to my herd, offering a bucket of grain to their leader, Marq, the oldest and most docile of the bunch.  The wind, however, has a way of making horses spooky. It can turn a 25 year old, slowpoke into a fiery  race-horse running for the roses.  Additionally, this behavior is catchy. All you need is one horse cutting loose, to turn the whole herd into a wild mob of mustangs trying to out run the Bureau of Land Management helicopters.

It's exasperating to say the least. As I begin the chase, my mood is one of calm, it deteriorates rapidly however, to one of frustration, then anger and finally near panic. Soon I am running after them screaming their names, throwing things and yelling that I hope they ALL get struck by lightning.
(I know. I'm not proud of it.) Ultimately I will collapse in a wet, exhausted, chest-heaving heap.

That's when it happens. First I'll hear a soft snuffling sound behind me. Then a fuzzy nose will touch my shoulder. I'll turn around and he'll be standing there all wide eyed and innocent, with the rest of the herd on his heels. It melts my heart everytime.

Rooted there in the wind and the rain, he will look at me with those soft brown eyes as  I hand over the bucket of grain. With the storm whirling about us, he will let me halter him and head toward the barn, the rest of the brumbies single file behind us. I'll lead them into the warm bright barn, where bedded stalls and fresh hay wait.  So satisfying; the warmth of the barn, the soft snorts and nickering, the sweet smell of hay..

I wonder what makes me tick. I could save myself so much time and frustration if I would just do things in a timely, orderly fashion. But I don't. Not ever. I know it baffles those who love me. Is it some weird control thing? They don't get it. I am equally disgruntled about my behavior, but seem to have no ability to change these extremely odd quirks I struggle with.  I would change if I could, wouldn't I? And if I could, I should...right?  Hmm..

Well looky there, it's hailing...gotta go, it's chore time! ;D

Monday, October 5, 2009

Beauty is in the Eye...

A week ago I went to Chicago with a friend to celebrate her birthday. As we were primping and preening to go out to dinner one evening, I began to bemoan my lack of eyelashes. She turned to me, cool as a cucumber and remarked, "What's the big deal about having eyelashes?" What?? Now you have to realize this question was posed by a woman who looks like she has a black  butterfly wing attached to each of her upper lids.  What's the big deal?? Hello!!! On the left is a photo of my eye. On the right is hers. See any difference between the two???

I am English on both sides of my pedigree. Descended it would seems from the Royal House of Hairless. I believe my lines are simliar to say that of the Chinese Crested in the canine world. These guys aren't actually hairless, but are covered in a fine fuzz over their entire body. Like this:

Sure I can blow, curl, spray, paste and laquer my hair into a style, but I will never have long, luxurious, run your fingers through it locks. My friend on the other hand, has a mane like this to go with her lashes:

Want to see us in another species? Once again me on the left, her on the right:

I am also a direct descendant of "Ferdinand of the Big Feet", but that's a story for a different day...