Listeme

I talk about demons.  What I mean is I joke about demons, because one, demons aren't real, and two, it is a particularly useful way for me to isolate and define the things that I struggle with during the winter, and three, joking is an attempt to make them smaller.  Seasonal affective disorder, seasonal anxiety, these are hard to pin down.  You can pin down a demon.  It's a person.  Ish. So this is what demons do.  They circle as night falls, as unerring as coyotes when the fire dims.  They throw everything at once -- terror, mortality -- a barrage.  I actually physically stay away from the windows as the sun goes down, because the dread is so sharp.   Can you imagine?  Dread, like clockwork, when it gets dark.  Every day, right now.  You get to the point where earlier and earlier, you anticipate; you fear the window shades, the clock, dinner, thinking of what time it is.  All you can think is it's going to hit and it is...

It should be clear by now that we are marching to our own drumbeat.  We are the drummers.  At a certain point, you stop worrying about whether you "should" unpack books before spackling or "should" play scrabble when there's insulation still to do.  You have to just … march. But there are things that are done in a certain order.  You can't bake until you have the correct circuit installed.  You can't take a bath without the hot water tank being in.  (You could, but ow.)  For a while, we did that kind of prioritization.  We had to. That's not where we are at this stage.  From the beginning, we prioritized keeping warm, preparing food, and a place to work.  We have our desks set up now, with some setting up still to do, but the important things:  clear surfaces, materials at hand, internet and printers.  We can cook or bake, and now we have staples and meats.  We have warmth when there is power and a generator coming. ...

We've been living on the edge for 10 months now.  Ten months ago today was when we looked at our lives and said, okay, let's do this thing.  The day before, John had gotten laid off from the corporate thing, and we knew we had to make some big decisions.  Why not add career and location into the mix, if we were talking about big decisions anyway?  Right? So we did and we put all our eggs into a basket and shook the basket.  (Note: don't shake real baskets of eggs.) Would the Centreville house sell well?  Heaven only knew.  When we bought it, the market was in a nasty spiral.  I paced around, imagining foreclosures and worse.  It sold well. Could we handle the uncertainties of the new property?  Could we find a place to stay while we sussed it out?  Yes, and yes, with the help of a tremendously supportive network of friends and family. What about the runway?  The runway was the length of time that we had to get si...

I haven't been writing fiction, this is true, and I haven't really been writing much else, unless you count grumping on the internet.  (That should count in the cosmic word count.)  But I've been filling up with ideas and prompts and solutions to fictional problems, and that does count.  It counts a lot. The lake at Dunn's is home to the best dragon ever.  I had to spend time out there on the water, quietly thinking about him, worrying that he'd tip the rowboat in a pique.  (He has piques.)  And he has a lot more muck and weed down there than I'd realized.  This is a problem if you're the kind of dragon who gathers small treasures.  And he does.  I needed to realize this. And I needed to watch the kids run around barefoot near the fireplace.  Kids get black feet when they do that. I needed to hear families bickering about floats and whose stadium chair this is and how old do you have to be to row your own boat and sit down, si...

Back in 2004, I went to Odyssey.  Before that, I had had published some genre stories on internet zines (Jackhammer E-Zine was one that bought several of my stories).  I wrote a terrible* SF novel that is somewhere in one of the PODs and I should use it as kindling because I will never ever let anyone read it anyway.  I wrote another thing that paid me okay, but it is hidden and will never be found. Then I went to Odyssey and relearned what I was doing. Then I took a few years to get through divorce and raising teenagers and life events. I wrote during this time.  I like to call this phase my "creepy" phase.  I have a stack of creepy stories that are looking for homes.  (Anyone?  Want some creepy stories?) But I don't think I was ever destined to stick with creepy stories or short projects.  I love flash fiction.  I love it.  But it's not as satisfying to me as what I'm working on now, because I have fallen in love with no...

When we woke up this morning, it was cold enough in the camper to turn on the heat.  So I did. Our neighbor came by today to invite us to hike this weekend, and he said, "how do you like this September weather?!"  I asked him if it's usually hotter around this time of year.  He said, "there's no 'usually' around here." We're getting some cow manure from one of our contractor men.  It's three years old, which is apparently a good vintage. I keep thinking of things that will be "fixed" when we move into the house.  I'll be able to use a real bathtub when we move.  We'll have a freezer.  Lots of things will be fixed when we move in.  But my brain keeps glitching:  when the clothesline was a little loose from a heavy item, I found myself thinking, we'll have a real clothesline when we move in.  No, that's the real clothesline, Marsh. We have an odd mix of slow pace and much to do; connected via the internet to th...

I've been hanging out with sheep a lot since arriving here in Maine.  My sister had thirteen when we arrived; an immediate fourteenth was born, and now there are sixteen.  There will be more.  They are raised for both fiber and meat.* When I first got here, they were a mass of baaing fuzzy beasts that might knock me down.  One time Gloria asked me to check something about Penny.  Which one is Penny?  The one with the even horns and the darker nose, she said.  I looked out at the ten ewes baffled.  How would I know which one had even horns out of all those?  She was flabbergasted that I didn't even know that only one of the breeds had horns.  (Jacobs**.) I used to live in a townhouse, yo. Penny is the one who just had twins.  She is wary of me.  I have yet to get her to accept a treat from my hand. Beryl is the other new mom.  She is also a Jacob.  Her baby is Bluebell, and Bluebell is a NUT.  She chases c...

We are a musical family.  The Richardses are, and the Richards-Van Pelts-McPhees are.  I've been playing the clarinet for 37 years now.  (37 years!  I don't think I've done many things longer than that -- eating and reading, maybe.)  I adore the clarinet.  I adore all woodwinds, but the clarinet is so versatile and so perfect.  It has been my instrument forever.  My focus for all of those years has been classical music.  That's what I have been doing, and that's what has made sense. So what is the banjo about?  It's weird, jangly, metallic, heavy.  My shoulders are still getting used to it. My fingers are raw!  I know nothing. To be proficient at the banjo will take me years.  To make beautiful music will take longer.  That's some of its appeal.  It takes me out of my comfortable musical genres and into genres that some of my ancestors loved.  I don't want to only build on what I know. I know noth...

I've decided to finally merge the two mirrored blogs. You can find Listeme here: Listeme See you on the other side of the looking glass...

This has been a very long week -- perhaps 16 or 17 days, at least. I have been offered -- and accepted -- my younger sister’s finished basement for the next year and a half. This will be a major cost-saver for me and a big help for her (she has two toddlers and is expecting a baby in August.) So that was a humongous start to the week. My other sister and her teenaged son have had to make some really hard decisions. She gave me permission to quote her: “spent yesterday at the hospital with my son. about eleven hours. sitting here writing and rewriting this entry trying to find just the right words. how to explain-- he is not healthy. he is mentally ill. he is not safe at home. none of this really covers it. so here's one image from the day. we walk into the east wing at maine med escorted by security. the very nice guard LOOKS like a skinhead but actually has incredible kindness and compassion for my snarly boy. he tells us gently that he has to check ian for weapons and sharp o...

January 6 . I’m way behind. I have only ONE resolution for 2006 so far (no fast food), but I’ve reminded myself that resolving should be done more often than once a year. (I’ve also already refined the no fast food rule: soda through the drive-thru does not count, nor does Starbucks. I’m still undecided about Subway, but I’m leaning towards saying it’s okay.) One of the stories I wrote at Odyssey was rejected on New Year’s Eve. I had a lot of hope in that story. Often rejections are something to file away, deal with, consider… and then I move on. This one was a real kick in the teeth. I’ve been really transparent about the writing and submission process with John. In the past I’ve been pathologically private about the whole process. So perhaps having him see it, see my flawed writing, see my vulnerability (he was beside me when I opened the email rejection letter) -- this was quite a stretching experience for me. And curiously, even though I felt quite raw at the time, talki...

Tonight, I went over to the house to share Chris’s birthday cake with the gang. When I arrived, Greg and Tina were decorating one of their Christmas trees. Due to some communication issues, the accumulated family ornaments had not been divided up yet… but there were Greg and Tina, trimming the tree. What the heck was I supposed to do? It’s not that any one ornament was so dreadfully important that I had to make a stand and claim it. But I had none. They had all of the ones from the marriage and family. Amazing how fast the adrenaline leaps when it comes to things like dividing up Christmas ornaments. Should I make a scene? Remember, the ornaments at this point are mostly already on the tree! Bah. So I said, kind of quietly, “I guess you didn’t get my voicemail about the ornaments?” I guess they hadn’t. So we did some very polite wrangling, me and my ex-husband and his brand-new wife, although she occasionally went into the other room. I would have given a whole lot to be abl...

Yes , we all survived Thanksgiving! Actually it was grand. I shall make a proper post, with pictures and everything. Summary points: The first aid kit was used, but not too much. The yams were once mashed, twice burned, once scraped, and uncomplained. The piano, flute, clarinets, and guitar were all used. Well. They were played. The nearly complete OED was VERY useful.

This is the third (or fourth or tenth) November in a row that I have wandered through in a fog. I pooh-pooh things like “seasonal affective disorder” but… it is definitely true that fall can be a challenge for me. Less sunlight = bad. The older I get, the more the cold affects me. Sometime around now (the week before Thanksgiving), I start to perk up. “What is that I smell?” Autumn leaves and pumpkin pie, that’s what. And I do so very much love Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is not about gifts or dressing up or impressing people. It is about sharing and loving. Oh, yeah, I’m definitely perking up. I’m getting downright sappy. Of course, there IS an awful lot to do in the next week… We’re renting a house/cottage/charming-sounding place in New York, approximately halfway between here and there, and our kids are ALL joining us. I think it will be great and noisy and chaotic and a little scary and great. I am starting the pies today.

Today I hung out with my nieces , Julianna and Sophia. I have evidence. One large glass vase full of “perfect” autumn leaves and four pinecones with “lots of sap! They need lots of sap!” I have no idea what made her think sap was a plus. I will be looking for tips in about a week; how does one best get sap off of glass? Nine apples, each with exactly one bite out of them. Nine. One bite each. Two index cards covered with glitter crayon portraits. Lower drawers of my office furniture… rearranged. A Dora the Explorer book and three others that I’m not sure I recognize. Cute ponies. Pastels. Sort of a small bruise-type thing under my left eye. That Sophie doesn’t know her own strength. What a great day!

Cape Cod Scrabble Tournament, 2005. Have I mentioned I love this game? I went 6-6 this tournament, and that says so very little about how the games actually went. Sometimes, just like in many other pursuits, I feel off or sluggish or just out of it. This weekend, I felt on. On on on. I felt fierce and smooth and sharp-edged. So take the six losses and feel that rush. Things just keep falling into place. My ex-mother-in-law, a woman I have always admired and always will, asked me how I was doing yesterday, and I said immediately that I am coming to a place of equilibrium and peace. Pretty amazing to feel this way; to an outsider, it must look very different. I’m heading into my forties, newly divorced, rather job-free (ha ha), living too far away from John… but we have the beginnings of plans and a base so solid you wouldn’t believe it even if I rambled on for hours, so I won’t! What is the next step? The question came from an unlikely source, but honestly, it is a great ques...

Sometimes life is exhausting . Even when it is good, it is exhausting. Some new additions: a super-duper mega-great zoom lens for my camera. I’m thinking of taking photography classes. You know, in my spare time. Sagan.

So tomorrow is a special day. It is John’s birthday. It will be the first time I get to be with him on his birthday, the first of many. It is probably no surprise that I think John is wonderful. He is very smart and funny and a tiny bit crazy -- crazy enough to think I’m great, for instance. He is a fellow magpie, pockets and shelves full of shiny finds. He plays with puns and poetry. He explains things better than anyone I have ever known. He is fun to be with on a rainy day, on a hike up a mountain in too much sun, in a shopping mall, on a long car ride. He has great ideas. Happy birthday, John. Thank you for sharing it with me.

Greg is getting married on Saturday. We are all still learning our roles in this new family situation. After some trial and error, Tina and I have discovered that talking through the blended children issues is best done by the two of us. We are both able to be direct, to put our vulnerabilities on the table, and just talk. We can do that. Mother to mother to stepmother. My respect for her grows. Our parenting styles are nearly opposite, but she is willing to listen, to remember that my role is vital, that I may be different, but different isn’t wrong. And I’m willing to do the same. She loves my children. She doesn’t always understand them. Well, neither do I. So the future is hard to make out, but it seems as though we are on the right path. Congrats, Greg and Tina. I wish you much joy and fun and love in your life together.

Daniel is living alone for the first time in his life. So I’m compiling some advice to him. Take care of yourself. This means more than just pampering yourself. Make sure you eat healthily. Buy fresh vegetables. Eat them. Clean sometimes. This is not for your guests, although they will appreciate it. This is for you. You deserve a nice environment. Cook a nice dinner for yourself once in a while. Eat it not in front of the computer. Pretend you are trying to impress someone. Make it tasty and beautiful. Don’t forget multivitamins. Enjoy time by yourself, but don’t forget other people -- for their sake and your own. Even hermits need human contact. Fresh air. Fresh air. Fresh air. Do something you love every day. Keep up with world events. Read a newspaper or check cnn every day. Seriously. I’m not sure if the Daily Show counts, but I won’t quibble. Hm. These are pretty good. I should make sure I’m following them all myself.