Postpartum Book Blues

Black Lilies has officially been released. I should be ecstatic, but instead I'm feeling kind of blah about it. I'm sure part of the reason is due to some publishing glitches, which puts me in a weird sort of limbo as far as celebrating. But also, it's the fact that while doing the back-and-forth dance with Amazon and waiting for the book to be finalized, I've been stuck between writing projects. I have no multitasking skills and have never been able to move on with a new project when the current one still needs to be squared away. So as a person who loves writing, I should feel antsy that I'm not writing right now, shouldn't I? I should feel agitated and unhappy. But instead, not having a project to work on feels amazing. I love having free time. Work is stressful (there's no getting around that), but my time at home feels so much more relaxed right now without the 'burden' of trying to finish a book. I'm having a blast doing stuff with my family without any of the writer's guilt that usually comes along with it. So ironically, feeling happy has got me feeling...blah. Because why am I not aching to write? Isn't it kind of a big deal that I haven't clacked away at a keyboard for a good two months, yet I don't miss it?

Basically, writing is something I have to do (due to the obsession), but it doesn't always make me happy doing it. Take this summer. I spent most of the season working on Black Lilies, and I'm suffering with a case of missing-out-syndrome. Now I'm back to work, and I'm in a state of shock that summer is already over. My brain is fixated on all the things I could've/should've done over break, like hiking with the kids, riding quads, painting/drawing with Trin, shooting bows, etc. Instead, I worked on a book. I tuned out my family for the better part of most days so I could write, edit, revise, etc. Am I going to regret this someday? I mean, of course I will, because it's not even 'someday' yet and I already regret it. Trin's 19 now, so her days living with us are winding down, and Elijah is 15. I feel like in my quest for publishing a book or two, I'm letting life slip by.

If I wrote standalone books, I could take time off after finishing a novel and focus on my family. Six months, or even a whole year. I could go ice skating with them, and to the movies, and out for smoothies. But I don't write standalone books. Not yet. Chasing Echoes--the first book I ever wrote--is part of a series. I wish I could go back in time and tell past-me not to do a series. The flippin' thing is holding me hostage. As much as I love the Aevos sisters and their incredible world, I just want to be free of it. I want one completed project so I can take a break. I want to work on a brand new novel that I feel no pressure to write, one that finishes and ends in the same cover.

So instead of feeling accomplished right now for finishing book 2 of the Chasing Echoes series, I feel frustrated that I still have one more book to go before I can call this series done.

*Update: All of the above was from awhile ago. I talked to Clint and the kids that night about how I was feeling. I told them I was thinking about not working on the third/final book of Chasing Echoes until Elijah started college, that way I could make sure I don't lose these final precious years with the kids. They were appalled by this and insisted that I need to keep writing, and told me they would help me come up with a schedule next summer that allows me to divide my time between family stuff and writing. They also said that I didn't need to worry about neglecting them, that they were totally fine, and Trin pointed out all the fun things we did as a family this year (which was more than I remembered!). So now I'm feeling better about things, but...I still feel a little 'off'. I think I'll feel better once Spring of Crows is outlined and I have a schedule to ensure that it doesn't take over my life.

I Blew It

My New Year's resolution was to write one blog post a week. Not only did I miss that mark, but I didn't manage a single post for the entire month of February.

So now the question is: Do I get back on track with my resolution and try to write that one post a week? Or do I succumb to the fact that I'm just not going to do it?

Black Lilies is currently at 118%. It's turned into one bad dream where I'm running and running but not getting any closer to my destination. I stopped updating my word meter because, what's the point? I'm doing an author's booth for Jamboree Days in July, and months ago I assumed I'd have Black Lilies at the event too, instead of Chasing Echoes alone--my one hit wonder. But now I'm having to face the fact that Black Lilies might not be ready in time. Even if I finished the book tomorrow (which I won't), the process of editing, revisions, beta reading, publishing...that's all going to take months. 

I'm being house-blocked at every turn. The time I should be spending on writing has been devoted to home improvements. Right now I'm painting all the ugly brown wainscoting in my house white, and it's turned out to be the most grueling project ever. Why can't I be one of those writers who's perfectly content in a whatever-house? Why do I have to want everything pretty? Like, I'm sure Hemingway was surrounded by total disarray and filth, yet continued to happily tap away at his typewriter.

Back to the Grind

I started back to work this week. Two weeks of sleeping in until 9:00 every morning has spoiled me rotten. Now I'm back to eleven hour work days that begin at 5:30 a.m. I'll get used to it soon, but right now it's brutal.

On the plus side, look how close I am to finishing Black Lilies!

It looks like one mere day of writing left, doesn't it? But, nope. Now that I'm back to work, it'll likely take me the whole month of January to finish this last sprint. I just have nothing left in me. Teaching middle-school wipes a girl out.

I'm only on here to meet my once a week quota, so that's it for now. My blogging friends who have new posts: I promise I'll read your latest updates soon! But right now I have to go crash.

Tumbleweed Days

So I ran a Chasing Echoes booth at our local Hesperia Tumbleweed Days this weekend! (I'm doing a great job of keeping my locations anonymous). This is my...third event now? My entire family hung out with me all day, helping me with my booth and giving me emotional support. Shannon was amazing. I think she single-handedly sold 80% of my books. My mom was pretty awesome too, pulling people in to watch the trailer. How am I this blessed? Anyway, here are a few pictures:

(This guy makes me feel tiny)

It was a great day (though by the end of it I was wiped out), and Tumbleweed Lakes is such a wonderful place to run a booth. There are so many trees that even at 95 degrees it never felt too hot. At least, not the kind of hot where you're seeing mirages out in the desert and stuff. Unlike my damn fever, where I was hallucinating that Voldemort from Harry Potter was trying to eat me in my sleep.

Okay, I need to let that whole fever thing go. But it was brutal, guys. B-R-U-T-A-L.

Scrivener and Other Stuff

I usually thrive on Saturdays, but this one's kind of a bummer because Elijah is sooooo very grounded. I found out on Thursday night he had a science fair project due the next day (yesterday), and he never told me. Now he's spending today doing a science fair project that he probably won't even get credit for. I still need to run out at some point today and buy him his board and supplies and all that.

Plus my coffee machine broke. To not have my coffee on a Saturday morning is immediately starting my weekend off with a...okay, I wrote myself into a corner there. Let's just go with "It sucks."

I have a student teacher for the rest of the school year (I do realize I'm subject-jumping). I love having even a mediocre student teacher because it's a refreshing change of pace to have another adult to share ideas and lessons with, not to mention that two adults in the classroom lighten up the workload. But in this case, I was fortunate enough to get a pretty great student teacher. He's very proactive. In the two weeks we've been working together he already has a great grip on my students and has just about adopted 3rd and 4th period as his own. Plus he makes us COFFEE every afternoon just in time to get past the 6th/7th period lull...

We found PJ a home! (subject-jumping again). Shannon has a perfect fenced in area where Charlotte (her pig) lives, and she has agreed to take him in. PJ's new future home is lush and green, with overhangs to provide protection during bad weather. There's also a spicket of water, so he'll never go thirsty. He'll have freedom to hop around freely, but in a protected space, which he seems to crave.

Have I told you about my deaf dog yet? I'll save that one for a future entry.

In manuscript news, I had to adjust my word count goal for DoT, because it occurred to me that 100K is the maximum suggested word count for a young adult novel. To leave my goal untouched means that in order to reach 100% on my word meter, I'm guaranteed to have to go over the maximum, forcing me to make cuts. Unless by some miracle I end up with exactly 100,000 words, and what are the chances of that? So I brought my goal down to 90,000, just to give some 10K wiggle room. But now I'm about to have an anxiety attack because there is no way I can wrap this story up in 11,000 words. I'm screwed. I'm just going to write the thing and make lots of cuts when I go to revise.

I found an amazing program for writers called Scrivener. Although 'found' is a misnomer because it was actually recommended to me by a twitter friend/fellow writer, @_RScottWhitley (he and I were both part of the #WorldsEnd project). This program is designed for people who are writing a book, unlike Word, which is geared toward people writing an essay or a report. The program took me two days and several tutorials to learn, but now that I have it figured out, I was hooked. My favorite thing about it (although it's hard to choose one because there are so many cool features) is it allows you to save/print your book in ANY format, including paperback novel format, eBook format for Kindle, etc. You could literally skip the middle man with this program and create your own eBook with little to no outside assistance.

I might write another entry today because I'm feeling all blabbery.

Staring at the Ceiling

I think I must post this on my blog every year...this is my all time favorite not-really-a-Christmas-song Christmas song:

Maybe by the time I post it next year, there will actually be a decent lyrics video to go along with it.  Everything I found was mushy and full of fireplaces and hearts.

I can't make up my mind about this next song.  His voice has an interesting quality and definitely isn't what you'd call 'manly.'  But the song has been sticking with me since the very first time I heard it, so I think I must love it.  It's not a Christmas song at all, but he does mention snow, so close enough.

There's quite a few parallelisms between the two songs, actually.  They both mention dimly burning lights and empty glasses.*

*(The rest of this post has been deleted because...well, it was just me lamenting)

Still breathing

Just a quick post to say I'm still alive, and my life totally sucks right now!

Four more days until my test...

Most Sincerely,
The Sad, Pathetic & Joyless Twin.

Forgotten Post

I just discovered this post from last week that I never published.  I almost deleted it, since basically I was just complaining about life.  But then I changed my mind.  This was my reality, and even though I'm feeling a hundred times better now, it's all still valid stuff.  But I will immediately follow this post with a new one because I'm super excited about the progress I've made on my manuscript today. 

Okay, here it is: 

This has been one of those crushing, stressful sort of weeks.  I hope that something breaks this cycle soon, because there were several times my mind actually said the words "I can't do this much longer."

It's not anything specific.  It's just life.  Work is taking everything out of me.  And then Clint's schedule is plunging our lives into a mini-chaos.  It's not so much that he's periodically gone.  I can make my peace with that.  It's the unpredictability of the job.  It makes it so difficult to settle into a pattern.  For example, he left early Thursday morning (the last time I saw him was Wednesday night) to jump on a train, telling me he would be home the next night.  Well now it's Saturday, and he still hasn't come home.  In three days, I've received no phone calls from him, and exactly three texts, all of them saying something to the effect of "Sorry I missed you babe, I'll try to call you when I can."  The problem is engineering affords him zero opportunities to call (they can't use their cells while driving a train--a fact I'm sure the general public appreciates), and when he finally arrives to his destination, I'm in the middle of teaching, or it's the middle of the night.  By the time I'm available to talk, he's back on a train again.   

But even more frustrating is when he's home, he's moody.  The new job is depleting his energy, so he comes home and starts being overly-snappy with the kids, etc.  And I get it, but I still feel resentful.  Because here I've held together a happy household for two or three days, and with one fair swoop he comes in and changes the mood from relaxed and carefree to negative and tense.  

I said I wasn't going to do Builders Club again, but of course I lied, so there's that.  We had our first meeting after school on Thursday, and around 65 kids showed up, all of us packed into my small classroom equipped to hold 35 at the max.  My air conditioner has been working sporadically at best this week, so you can imagine how oppressive the temperature was with 65 bodies serving as miniature heaters.  Then, because someone upstairs likes to watch me squirm, the president of Kiwanis decided to show up during our first meeting.  If she had shown up for meeting #3 or #4, after the club was calmed down and the kids were already trained in proper meeting etiquette (like making motions and such), that would have been spectacular.  But she decided to come to the very first one.  With 65 kids, a shortage of handouts, and stinky heat.  Awesome.  

She did give me a huge hug when she left, and told me that Kiwanis really wants to support me and be involved with Builders this year, so I'm thinking the meeting wasn't as disastrous in real life as it was in my head.  She said that if I needed anything, to give her a holler.  As of yesterday, I found out that Kiwanis is going to pay for a service project that my club is doing in November, including the school bus.  I'm thrilled, because my club is broke this year.  But now I'm already up to my ears in paperwork and approvals for our upcoming events, and when you're trying to do all of this while simultaneously grading papers, planning lessons, and raising kids essentially by yourself, it's enough to make you want to curl up in the fetal position. 

I've been dreaming every night.  In one of the dreams, I was dangling from some sort of ledge.  There was someone dangling with me, and I don't know who it was but I was so happy that they were there that I knew I could hold on to that ledge forever.  In another dream, I was trying to get to my manuscript, but a black furry monster kept blocking my path.  In last night's dream, there were rabbits all over my classroom.  At least my dreams are silly, because life right now--not so much.

The Test from Hell

I took my test, and it was so awful. I would rather have a tooth extracted with no Novocain than go through that again. Or a bone marrow biopsy. Or an ingrown toenail removed. Or a Barium enema. Or all of them done simultaneously. I don't ever want to take that stupid test again.

But I might have to...I think I bombed it.

I arrived to the Prometric Testing Center about a half hour early, so I flipped through some of my study materials and tried to quickly review some of the concepts (in my car). I walked in about 15 minutes before my scheduled time, and I felt fairly calm (no, I did not drink or pop any benzos, although in hindsight, that may have helped). I signed in, and they asked for 2 forms of identification. They had me put all of my stuff in a locker. They also had me empty out my pockets, and roll my jeans up to my calves. The lady waved a hand-held metal detector up and down my body. I wasn't throwing up or anything...So far so good.

The lady walked me into the testing section, where there were various computers and multiple intense-looking individuals already taking some test or other. There were also video cameras monitoring each person. The lady showed me my computer, and also held up some headphones and whispered, "These are for you to use if you need to block out the noise." I looked at her with confusion and said, "What noise?" (Seriously, it was so quiet that I thought I heard someone's stomach growl). She just laughed, and walked out.

I completed the tutorial, and then my test began. When the first question popped up, my heart instantly sank. It was about some obscure minority study done in the '90s. I guessed on that one, and hoped the second question would be better. But it wasn't. Out of the first 10 questions, there were 2 that only looked vaguely familiar. The good news is that my heart stopped sinking. The bad news: It was now pounded in my throat. I had this horrible feeling that all the study material I had studied for months was just WRONG. After question 12 or so, the questions began to transition into material that looked a bit more familiar, but by then, my palms were clenched, I was sweating, and my heart was pummeling out of my chest.

Sadly, even the questions I THOUGHT I knew were worded in such a way that two answers seemed correct, or none of the answers seemed correct. The test allows one to "mark" questions that they would like to review later. When I completed all 225 questions, I had 66 marked. I had only reviewed about 10 of them when I ran out of time. So yeah, I feel fairly certain I failed. I went home, locked myself in the bathroom, and cried. I was so depressed and anxious that night. All night, my brain kept ruminating over this damn test. My reaction to this was such a shock to me because I don't normally become this anxious over....anything. My Dad, husband, and Jodi all gave me very reassuring feedback, but nothing they said would resonate. I tried to sleep, but I kept spontaneously remembering questions and fighting the urge to look up the answers. At like...3am that night, I decided to cancel the dinner with Jodi and Kristyn, because I had decided I was too depressed to go, and I didn't want to bring them down.

When I woke up that morning, I was an exhausted mess. It was while I was curling my hair for work that I decided I simply needed to get over it. I even said out loud to my reflection in the mirror, "You aren't the only one who has taken this test before, so get over yourself." I figured I had already allowed myself approximately 14 hours to completely fall apart into a heaping pile of self pity, and now it was time to move on. I also decided NOT to cancel the dinner with Jodi and Kristyn.

And that's where I am at right now. I won't find out my score until the 5th or 6th of August, but I will be okay. If I failed the test, I will fork over $600 and take it again (it would be a different version, unfortunately, so any of the questions I retained are useless).

The good news: I don't have to study right now! I can actually write on this blog again. I can read a book. I can watch something on Netflix. I can go for a walk. I can parent my kids.

Just a random thing: During the dinner with Jodi and Kristyn, I found out an interesting fact about my sister that I never knew (this doesn't sound like a big thing, but when you are a twin who knows pretty much everything ABOUT your twin, it feels pretty cool to discover some novel fact). So the new thing is, my sister is "hard to sedate." This is what she was told by a doctor because she woke up in the MIDDLE of surgery. Jodi was knocked out under general anesthesia while surgeons were attempting to repair her vocal chord. Suddenly, she sits up and nonchalantly starts chattering away. The doctors experienced a moment of alarm, and quickly knocked her out again. When Jodi was told about it later, she had no memory of the incident.

Studying for the EPPP

This is just a quick post to write about why I haven't been writing. I am in EPPP hell. EPPP is the Exam for Professional Practice in Psychology. It is one of the last and largest obstacles I have to conquer in order to become licensed to practice as a clinical psychologist.  It is a nightmare.

Like many others, I am a natural procrastinator. I have always waited until the night before to study for a test or complete an assignment, even though this meant pulling a lot of all nighters. Even my dissertation was done in several massive binge episodes (involving a lot of wine).  This test is different...it involves SO much material, and it requires much more than a last minute cramming session...this has been quite a challenge for me. The study materials I bought for this test ("Psychprep") came with a 14 week study plan, which involve approximately 15 hours of studying a week.

That should have been reasonable, but with the kiddos and working full time (and another additional 10-12 hours a week in commute time), I have had a hell of a time keeping up with the study guide. I kept pushing my test date further and further out (I initially had planned to take it in April), and I realized I had to do something before I felt like a complete loser.

So I requested every Wednesday in July off to study, and now I am going for it. My test date is July 24th, and I am FREAKING out. The test cost $600, so if I bomb it, I will be really bummed out. On the bright side, when I see Kristyn, I will have taken the test the day before, so I will be more relaxed during our visit. My WHOLE life until the 24th is working, studying, with a little half assed parenting sprinkled in here and there. After work, I take practice tests at home. I listen to the audio CDS in my car. I read through the different study sections on my lunch breaks. That is IT. There is no entertainment. No fun. It is all pure drudgery. I realize that this blog post itself is profoundly boring. I find this to be appropriate, as this is a rather accurate depiction of my mind-numbingly, uninteresting life.

P.S. Not sure if it is a problem with Blogger or with my laptop, but I can't insert any pictures, including my siggy right now. :-( P.S.S Jodi, feel free to insert my siggy for me, Haha P.S.S.S Apparently Blogger is unable to do separate paragraphs as well (this was initially written as 5 separate paragraphs).

P.S.S. (update from Jodi)--Siggy added and paragraphs incorporated (probably in the wrong spots, but hey, they're there).  ;)

From the Real Shannon

This will be a quick post. It has been SO long since I have last written, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my sister started acting like a butthead about it. On the bright side, I learned a lot about my life from Jodi. I guess I spend my days "therapyzing" and working on my "paper thing." (Jodi, what paper are you talking about???! You know I'm not in school anymore, right??). I guess I'm "psychoanalyzing" as well, which is pretty remarkable in an acute facility (average length of stay for inpatient is 5-7 days), considering psychoanalysis takes a minimum of two years.

I really just wanted to offer a brief explanation of why I haven't written for a while. It has been brutal the last few weeks. It started about a month ago, with our Vegas trip. The trip was actually REALLY fun. However, I started to get sick that weekend, and that bug clung to me for about 2 1/2 weeks (extreme fatigue, chronic headache, sore/burning throat,and acid reflux IN my throat, which was really freakin' weird). After taking every OTC med possible (including Prilosec for a couple weeks), it finally disappeared.

 In the meantime though, I rear-ended a brand new Camaro (still had dealer plates on) on the 60 FW. My car was fine, but hers was pretty jacked up (on the bright side, I discovered my car kicks ass in a crash...I had like...ONE tiny scratch, while her bumper was falling off). She got herself an attorney, and she is claiming injury now (although she didn't look that injured when she was running around her car road ragin', screaming, and dropping F bombs...but hey, I'm not a medical doctor). Luckily, it seems as if my insurance is handling the lawsuit and all that.

Then my son's school calls to tell me he is having an asthma attack. I was like, my son has asthma? So I had to take time off work to get him an exam, blood work, chest x-ray....Jeremy also had to take time off work to take him for an echocardiogram, because the doctor wanted to rule out a rare heart condition. He has an inhaler now (which I like to take hits off of sometimes because...well...it's fun). Adding to this was trying to enroll Shelby in Kindergarten. The school wouldn't accept her physical exam from February because it was supposed to be done after March, so that was another appointment. AND Samantha got some infection on her head, which was ANOTHER appointment. I feel pretty sure our family doctor can put his own kids through college now.

I also got a flat tire, but that is nothing new. I am cursed when it comes to tires.This was actually a nice one. Rather than the tire violently blowing off my rim and leaving me stranded somewhere with no cell signal (which is what typically happens), this one just calmly deflated into a pancake.

In the midst of all of this, I have been trying to study for this nightmare test (the only part of my life Jodi got right). And that's all. I am going to try and write another post over the weekend, because I still have more I want to write, but I'm too drowsy right now.

Little Boxes

This week I am going through a marital issue that I can't really discuss, a medical issue (small, I hope) that I won't discuss, and a family drama that I really shouldn't discuss.  So yeah, fun day to blog.

Since I am officially passing on writing about any thing that's actually on my mind, I thought now would be a good time to bring up my favorite parody band, "Walk off the Earth."  Have you heard of them?  My friend Julie introduced me to them well over a year ago.  Most of the time they specialize in covers, but they are so original and talented that I am really surprised they haven't made a bigger name for themselves by now.  Although I do believe they are on tour right now, plus they have an entry in Wikipedia, so maybe it's just people in my world who haven't heard of them.  At any rate, the members of the band can play just about any instrument, and they always choose interesting, quirky instruments over your everyday guitars and drums.  Or, if they do choose a guitar, all five of them might play it at once:

I love the female member, Sarah Blackwood.  She has an incredible voice, and she herself is so beautiful and adorable.  Although I can NOT resist the dude on the very right.  His facial expressions (or lack thereof) and level of participation crack me up.  They actually have his face on a t-shirt now, though I can't remember what the caption says.

The group does have a few singles of their own.  My kids adore the song, "Summer Vibe."

I enjoy the song as well; it has a happy, calming feel to it.  I'm not sure why, but it has become our car wash song.  We listen to it every single time we go through the car wash.  The problem is every time I hear the song now, I think of summer breezes, a warm buzz, that special someone...and giant sponges spinning toward me, foaming with suds.

Here is my personal favorite original piece by the group.  This would never be a song you'd hear on the radio, but I think these lyrics are really onto something.  

Now I need to get off of my computer-box and jump into my shower box and try to wash off the last two days. 

 

This Week: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly

I am so, so, SO far behind on this blog.  I even went months without checking my stat counter, because I found myself no longer caring.  Today I finally logged in and was surprised to see over 220 hits from Palmdale.  I'm thinking that has to be some sort of glitch...does Palmdale even have 220 people?

Okay, so I'm going to break this down.  Here's this week's "good":

Last weekend we visited my stepsister's farm in Northern California.  That was awesome.  Her and her husband farm walnuts, cherries, and tomatoes; they have so much acreage that I can't even tell where it ends.  They live in a small house that is over 100 years old and is simply adorable.  She's pregnant with twin girls, so we were actually there for her baby shower.  Her baby shower ended up being huge (over 100 women) with the atmosphere of a classy wedding reception...a far cry from your typical pin-the-diaper-on-the-baby type shower. 

Maybe it's because I'm a twin myself, but I think I got a little excited with the prospect of my stepsister having twins.  I don't make gifts EVER (unless it's scrapbooks or paintings); I'm really not a crafty person.  But I wanted to do something cute for the twins, so with the help of my sister-in-law, I made these outfits:

These are completely impractical, but I don't care!  I officially want twin baby girls myself now so I can dress them up in these.

Another good from this week is I have a student, Johnston, who is painfully shy in my classroom, to the point where he will absolutely shut down if I try to get him to read outloud or respond to a question.  The counseling department, after assessing him, finally told me to let him off the hook for sharing outloud and any other verbal presentations.  It's just way too traumatic for him.  But I've been working really hard with him this year, trying to guide him into being more comfortable talking in front of people.  Every step of the way I let him know that I wasn't going to push him, but I wanted him to know that I believed he was capable of expressing his thoughts outloud, and that others would appreciate what he had to contribute.  Well today Johnston did a full two minute presentation in front of the class!  I was so blown away and had to try not to cry.  He actually volunteered to talk for his group, and I could see him shaking with fear, but after awhile he started smiling and laughing.  He was amazing.  I've never once heard his voice that loud and clear before, and it was the most words I have heard him utter this entire school year.  Before he left class, I told him, "Johnston, you made my heart sing today," and he was grinning from ear-to-ear.

The bad:

My coworkers--the ones I have the closest relationships with, are dropping like flies.  Every day I eat lunch with my collegues Niecy, Brad, Bev, and Mr. Moore.  Or I used to.  Niecy has been out for about half of the school year now due to her health issues.  Brad (previously dubbed "Mr. A")--the teacher whose shoulder I cried on my first year of teaching, who talked me into getting a master's degree, who taught me how to play three-card-poker at an Indian Casino, who taught me how to ski, who carried me home when I was drunk--left our school last week to pursue a new career as a speech pathologist.  That one hit me hard.  I could write an entire post just on this, but our initial e-mails to each other sum it up well enough:

Me:  Oh my god, I just read the bulletin and got a cold chill. You're leaving us? No Brad, no!!! 

(Okay, I'll work on being more supportive). 

 

Brad:  Lol... I love you too.  You have been one of my favorite peeps since I got here... love you and your husband.  You are both good people!   The kids love your joy and enthusiasm as well... it shows every day. 

After that, crying and temper tantrums ensued (he cried, I threw tantrums). 

In addition to that, Mr. Moore, my onery lunch buddy who I just adore, is retiring at the end of this year.  So I have only three short months left of his teasing me and always thinking I'm crazy.  Bev, our quirky music teacher, will still be here next year, but her prep period follows lunch, so she doesn't join us until the last ten minutes or so. 

I'm not a person who likes change, and I hate it that the people I care about are disappearing little by little from my life.

The ugly:

I just got the news today that a friend from high school died.  I went to his facebook wall after work, and it made me sick to my stomach.  I know it's just a personal thing, but I hate how people are writing "R.I.P. Ed" all over his wall as if it were no different than plastering birthday wishes; as if he can actually read them.  They're also writing stuff like "You were a good person" and "I'll miss you."  Again, as if he can read them.  That's a new low...death itself being cheapened by social networking.  Way to go facebook.   

This day sucks in other ways, but I've written enough for now. 

I'm stuck on sappy love songs right now.  This one isn't exactly "pretty," but it still moves the hell out of me.
 

 

Gumball Machine

When Elijah was a toddler, he used to walk up to every gumball machine we passed and spin the crank.  He would then proceed to lift the metal flap and peer anxiously inside of the opening, hoping to find a gumball.  I tried to explain to him that you had to put money into the machine to get a gumball; that no matter how many times he spun the crank, he would never get a freebie.  I don’t like to see my kids hope for something and get let down, so I needed him to know it didn’t work that way.  Life didn’t work that way. 

After about a year, I almost had him convinced.  Though he still checked the machines occasionally, he lost his fervor.  His search for a miracle gumball had become a half-hearted mission. 

Then one day, on our way out of the mall, he decided to try yet another one.  He spun the crank.  Almost instantly, I heard the soft sound of a small object clanking its way down the interior of the machine. 

He lifted the flap, and there it was.  A blue gumball. 

The look shining in his eyes suggested that every wonderful thing he had ever thought about the world had been confirmed. 

I felt a combination of joy--the little guy's efforts had finally paid off--and defeat.  I knew that this little blue gumball had created a monster. 

And I was right.  For the next five years, he would continue to turn the crank of every single gumball machine we passed with abounding  optimism.  This time, I knew there was no way I could talk him out of it.  Because even though disappointment stings, the tiniest fleck of hope goes a long way.

But hope is also a pain in my ass.   Sometimes I wish the little blue gumballs in my life would go away and quit teasing me with their empty little promises.   

Uh oh…somehow my warm and fuzzy little anecdote derailed toward the end.  Which is weird because I'm actually in a pretty good mood.  Oh well...I’ll try to post about Halloween in the next few days, and that one will be more upbeat.

I (un) Heart Cats

Found out that the cat drank from my cereal bowl (Apple Jacks, in case you're interested).   Which is fine and all, except for I learned this information right after I had finished gulping up the last of the milk from that particular bowl.   So thank you, dear family, for that awesome heads-up.   And thank you, Karfcia, for reminding me why cats are the bane of my existence.

This week was grueling with some good parts and some lousy parts. I should write about it, but I really don't want to.   Maybe my sis will step up and write something worthwhile this weekend (such as more fascinating facts regarding the mating habits of geckos); then I'll officially be off the hook.

Okay, I came on here to actually write a post, but I've already lost steam.  Dang it.  Here, I'm going to insert a cute cartoony image of a cat to make this seem like a real post.

Blogger and Pre-Teen Issues

Blogger is driving me crazy.  Ever since I changed the URL, nothing on here works.  I tried commenting on Shan's last post, and once again, Blogger won't let me on the comment page (by the way Sho, that part about the patient has me in stitches! Clint says a "true" therapist would have helped him get there faster).  Sometime in the next month or two, Shan and I will be switching to a new webpage.  We already have our new URL picked out; it's just a matter of us getting together and creating our new space.  This time around I want to go through the process with her, so it's actually our blog; not just mine that she's renting a room from.  Unfortunately the new blog will be platformed on Blogger because that's all we know and neither one of us have time to learn a new one, but hopefully starting from scratch will eliminate these current glitches.  I did manage to use Blogger for three years before having any big problems.

I have too much to write about, but I really don't want to write, so I'll sum everything up.  First, I'm overwhelmed with work right now, but that's nothing new.  Second, I've been absolutely addicted to reading lately--more than usual.  I finally broke down and got a Kindle e-Reader, and I adore the thing.  The first book I read from it was Fifty Shades of Grey.  I started the second book--Fifty Shades Darker--but got bored with it, so I switched over to a new book called Divergent by Veronica Roth.  It was a great read, although it got a little heavy and sad toward the end.  I started the next book in the series (Insurgent), and after that I have four or five other books already downloaded, just waiting for me to read.  Third, I'm currently signed up for three 5Ks, one each month for the next three months.  Yeah, I think I might be getting a little carried away.  Fourth, Trin goes to school with me every day now, which is awesome, but she's driving me nuts at home.  She has been this emotional ball of hormones and constantly having these stupid meltdowns.  And since I'm the parent at home dealing with it, I'm the one that gets demonized.  I have ZERO tolerance for all of this girly crap.  Fifth, we decided to go to the L.A. County Fair again for my and Shan's birthday.  It's not until the third weekend of September, but I am already drooling at the prospect of a giant blue cheese burger and fried jalepenos (coincidentally, I've been craving blue cheese dressing too, but have felt no compulsion to stare at muddy rivers or provinces in Canada).

Okay, I'm going to go count to ten backwards because my daughter is making me see red right now.

Tumbleweed, CA

I try not to say the name of the little city I live in.  It's a pretty pointless endeavor, because at this point a person trying to figure it out would probably have no issues connecting those dots, but at least I give internet safety a feeble effort.  In three years of blogging, I've only slipped twice and said my city's name.   I figured this out just now--I actually typed my city's name into my blog's search box, and it came up with two posts.  I found the slip-up on both of them, and changed the name from the real-thing to "Tumbleweed".  So I guess for all intents and purposes, I now officially live in Tumbleweed, California, located somewhere in the High Desert.  I don't know if Shan is trying to keep her location a secret too, so until she tells me otherwise, she now officially lives in Pinecone, California.  

By the way, I love Wikipedia's definition of the High Desert:

The High Desert is an unofficial and vaguely-defined geographic area of southern California located to the northeast of the San Gabriel Mountains. 

Thanks for such startling precision, Wikipedia. 

In other news (literally), it has been so very hot here in good ole' Tumbleweed.  It's not just the triple digits...that's pretty standard for August.  It's the mugginess.  We've had this constant half-cloud cover nonsense that's making the air all yucky and humid.  I was working in my classroom today, and every time I stepped out, it felt like a sauna.  With twenty laundromats running inside the sauna.  And the AC broken in all the laundromats.  Okay, you get the point.  

Here's our weekly forecast.  I'm pretty sure Wednesday is a typo and is supposed to say "100% hot", unless the author of this chart believes that 1,090° constitutes a typically hot day.  I like how Thursday and Friday say "Super Hot" and "More Heat"...I think the forecaster typologist person (okay, I obviously don't know his job title) is suffering from creativity-fatigue due to all of this heat.  

Tomorrow and Friday are in-service days at my work, and then Monday I officially start the new school year with students.  As usual, I'm both excited and apprehensive.  My biggest regret is having to say goodbye to this fantasy summer.  This was honestly one of the nicest summers I've had in the past six years.  I think working at the college played a huge role, but I also did a lot of outdoor activities (camping, hiking, 5Ks, etc.) that kept me feeling rejuvenated. 

In honor of saying goodbye to summer...

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I used to love Dido many years ago (back when they were popularized by the show Roswell), but had actually forgotten all about them.  Yesterday this song played on the satellite radio at Jack in the Box, and I was trying hard not to shush the customers in my attempt to identify it because it seemed so familiar.  I think the video is cute, although I'm jealous cuz now I want to play dominos and drink moscato in the middle of a busy street.

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Wish me luck for this Monday.  Hopefully I won't enter my classroom on such a balmy 106° day with sand dribbling from my shoes. 

Rain Clouds in the Hot Springs

Okay, Monday.  Just like the weekend, it was both really crappy and pretty wonderful--with not much in between.  That morning I woke up, expecting to enjoy a relaxing morning with Clint, whom I hadn't seen in three days.  Instead we got into a nasty argument.  I won't get into the whys, but it ended up monopolizing our entire morning.  We did eventually make up, but the whole thing left me feeling emotional for hours. 

The day wore on, and I started feeling more upbeat as we began packing for the Hot Springs (although my eye infection was coming back, which was really aggravating--guess I should've followed the Rx's directions).  As I mentioned in my last post, Matt and Alana were visiting from Nor Cal, so all of us decided to hike up into the Hot Springs again.  But this time we planned to stay the night.  I had been excited for this excursion for the last three weeks.  I kept fantasizing about soaking in nature's jacuzzi beneath all of those bright stars, enjoying  late-night wine and conversation with good friends. 

Matt and Alana had already hiked up to the Springs earlier that day, so Clint and I decided to meet up with them sometime after 4:00.  The first little problem arose when Clint's mom called us around 1:00 saying she was sick as a dog and couldn't watch our kids, but luckily, she arranged for Moo (Clint's sis) to watch them.  So all was fine.  But then at 3:00, Moo called and told us that Lucas (my nephew) was projectile vomiting, so she couldn't take the kids.  We now had no babysitter.  We tried several other options, but nothing panned out.  I was starting to panic, because I knew Matt and Alana were already at the Springs, and there was zero cell service up there.  We had no way to call them and tell them what was going on.  I couldn't bear the thought of canceling our plans and not only leaving them hanging all night, but losing out on an experience that I had been looking forward to for weeks. 

Clint agreed that we couldn't leave the two hanging, and bringing the kids along was definitely not an option.  Thus one of us needed to do the hike.  Of course I volunteered.  Initially he was opposed to the idea, but he was still so sore from the black belt test that it didn't take much to convince him.  He filled my backpack with all sorts of little survival stuff, plus I took my .38 special and Yang (my dog) in case I needed to ward off any crazies (it is the Hot Springs).  He dropped me and Yang off at the trail head and off we went.

Now I say this casually, but at this point I need to mention that I have a teeny-tiny fear of going to unfamiliar places by myself, and a big fat fear of getting lost.  I used to have recurring nightmares as a kid in which I was deserted in unfamiliar places.  It's one of my worst fears.  I'd rather cuddle with a black widow than get lost alone.

Okay, so back to hiking.  The trail I was on was one I had never taken before and was much more vertical than the other option, but was only two miles from the Springs instead of six.  So of course I decided to take this route.  I was about ten minutes into the hike when my trail went into two opposite directions, and I realized I had no idea which way to go.  Of course there was no one around.  I knew this was a possibility, so I kept calm.  I pulled out my cellphone to see if I could pull up some sort of map, but I had no service.  I remember just standing there for a few minutes, looking back and forth, feeling utterly helpless.  Then it started pouring.  I actually laughed outloud at this point, because I live in the desert, and it might be self-absorbed but I knew that fucking rain cloud was there just for me.

I eventually figured out where I was going, and at that point the hike was amazing.  It smelled so wonderful, and once I found the right trail I was able to just relax and enjoy the scenery.  It also felt so liberating to conquer that fear of exploring unfamiliar territory alone.  After such an emotional day, those two miles were such a soothing therapy.

Once I reached the Hot Springs, Alana saw me right away from the river and hollered for me.  I explained to them what had happened with the babysitting, but Matt spent most of the day not believing me.  The eye infection had given me a case of the sniffles, so he was convinced  that Clint and I had argued about going to the Springs and I had stormed off without him.  All day long, he was like "Why are you crying Jodi?" and my answer was always the same: "Because I have a damn eye infection Matt."  It was pretty funny.

So we enjoyed a day at the Hot Springs, met lots of interesting people, collected wood for a fire that evening, and everything was going great.  Until night came.  Matt slipped from a rock, fell about ten feet, and ended up dislocating his elbow and breaking his arm.  At first he didn't think it was that bad, but then he held it up under what little moonlight was filtering through the clouds to show Alana, and it looked all contorted with a round ball sticking out from his elbow.  When Alana saw this she took a few steps back and told me "Oh my god, I'm going to pass out."  She didn't, so good job there Alana.

Alana and I, along with a dozen of nearby hippies, tried  for hours to convince Matt to let us hike him out, but his answer was a resounding "Hell no."  There was no way he wanted to risk a treacherous six mile hike in pitch dark (there were no stars due to the cloud cover and barely a moon), with us girls having to carry a bigger burden since his arm was useless.  Of course this made sense, but sitting there all night with his injury seemed so wrong.  Ultimately, all we could do was keep Matt's arm in the cool water all night and wait it out until morning.  He did take some Excedrin to help deal with the pain, plus we bummed some mystery liquor from one of our neighbors, so all of this helped a bit. 

Obviously we didn't get much sleep that night.  Matt constantly wanted to be in the water, but neither Alana nor myself were comfortable with the idea of him navigating the rocks in the dark with an injured arm.  Alana was pretty exhausted by 1 or 2 in the morning and could barely keep her eyes open, so I told her I'd watch out for him and ended up staying in the springs until 4 or 5 in the morning.  It was beautiful in those springs.  Even though the stars were hidden, the moon came out at one point and was so bright that it was reflecting off of the clouds.  There were a few people here and there with us, and they were all so easy-going, friendly, and relaxed.  Okay, they may have been stoned. Anyway, we spent most of the time in a spot that the three of us discovered earlier; a river pool containing cooler water, but if you lean against the rock, a hot waterfall spurts down your back.  It's wonderful--a non-stop back massage.  But in this case, it was a nice compromise; it gave Matt the cool water he needed for his arm, but gave me the nice hot water that I was craving.  

Eventually we came back to camp and I finally curled up in my sleeping bag, which was on the ground outside because I forgot to bring a tent.  Matt and Alana insisted that I sleep in their little two-man tent, and had it been necessary, I would've had no issues with it.  I'm not one with worrying about personal space.  But the temperature that night was so beautiful and perfect, and I actually felt excited about the prospect of sleeping under the stars...even if I couldn't see them.  So I tried to fall asleep, but I remember I felt so, so silly.  I think I was delirious with fatigue, but I didn't feel tired at all.  I started chattering to poor Alana who was trying to sleep, until eventually I passed out.  It was more of a doze though...I could still hear all the noises around me.  I do remember that the ground and the backpack I was using as a pillow felt like the most comfortable thing on the planet, so I must have been pretty tired. 

I woke up at first light.  Not because I was ready to wake up, but because my damn eye was super-sensitive to the sunshine even behind the closed lid.  Soon after, Matt and Alana woke up, and we spent time preparing breakfast and breaking down camp.  Matt's injured arm was now very swollen, with purple marks forming around the joint, so Alana and I felt pretty concerned about getting him to a doctor.  Right after breakfast, Matt threw up, and he seemed to be running a small fever, all of which didn't help our worry. 

We decided to hike the six mile trail out, because the trail I had taken the day before would require us to hike vertically upward for two straight miles...not an appealing option for someone with usage in only one arm.  Once ready, we set off.  The hike was long and hot, and we were quite the pitiful group.  Sleep-deprived, hungry, and a third of us crippled (two-thirds of us if you count the fact that Alana's hip was giving her issues).  When we finally reached three or four miles, I at last had cell service.  I called Clint to tell him what was going on, and he immediately drove to the trail head and started hiking our direction.  When he reached us, he took Matt's pack and hiked the rest of the way with us.   

Alana took Matt to the ER while Clint and I grabbed Del Taco for everyone.  We were all famished.  In two days, I had eaten one can of tuna, salami, and a packet of oatmeal.  Clint delivered the food to Matt and Alana in triage, where Matt technically wasn't allowed to eat, but he said "screw it" and crammed a burrito down anyway.  Then Clint drove me home and I crashed for three hours.

Matt's arm (with the elbow popped back in):

He is now doing much better but is still not quite up to par. We're still planning to get in one more visit with the both of them before they leave on Saturday. For this next visit, maybe we should stay at home and play Boggle.  

Goodbye Fizzyjo

I just lost my domain name.  I know it's silly, but I'm having a hard time with it.  My domain name has become something personal to me, and I'm feeling so dejected that it's no longer mine.  The whole thing is so jacked up.  I had my domain name set up to automatically renew on May 15th.  For some reason, it never renewed.  This morning, at 4-something a.m., someone purchased it.  Now when you go to fizzyjo.com, it's some loan company.  To make matters worse, I had a following on fizzyjo.  It took nearly three years of blogging to actually create a web presence, but now when I switch to a new domain, it's all going to be gone.  There is no way for others to find me, unless they are a personal friend of mine. 

I don't even have the will to blog right now.  I know I'll get it back eventually, but right now I just feel so discouraged.  Even this entry I'm about to post has nowhere to go.  I have no domain name.  I guess it's just going to float around somewhere in the empty spaces between all of the real domains.

I Love/Hate Blogging

I know, I know, I need to post something this week.  But I just don't want to!  *stamping feet*  To be fair, I've written three different posts in the last few days.  But then I deemed each one as inappropriate for the world wide web and deserted them.  Stupid public blog. 

Yeah, that's all I got for now.