Computer Crapped Out

Last post for a while, mates. My laptop is crazy-sick. No, not a virus. We think it's a problem with a driver. It's doing wonders for my writing. Yeah. No. Really. I'm not getting any writing done. Just bummed. I'll check ya later, folks.

Guests Check In, Then Bug Out

Whenever I get the travel bug, I remind myself of bugs who like travelers.

How Do You Find Me?

I've noticed that other bloggers besides me enjoy researching how people around the world come to find their blogs. Lee Goldberg maintains that a steady stream of visitors find him in their search for Lindsey Lohan's nipples, and surely the Book Tarts at The Lipstick Chronicles get hit on by folks looking for shoes, views, booze, and writing news.

Me? I've gotten some crazy weird visits over the last few years. The most frequent search phrase that brought peeps to my blog in 2005 was..."whine the pooh." No, no typos there. I've had visitors from all over the world who searched on..."whine the pooh" (WTF?) and then chose to visit to my blog. One from Manilla, I think. And Mexico City. And Togo. Go figure. Why that phrase? Yes, I whine. And the word "Pooh" used to appear on my list of movies watched in 2005. That's as close as we get, folks.

Now even though I'm not sure how a reader in Taipei, Taiwan arrived at my blog, I am delighted that I was translated into what I have to assume (sorry if I'm wrong) was Mandarin Chinese. Here's the page. Pretty, don't you think? I cling to the illusion that the thousands of multilingual typing monkeys who work for Yahoo/SYSTRAN captured the full range of my brilliance.

I get a few hits a month from folks researching abdominal muscle diastasis, a condition to which I'm apparently doomed. Two big babies twenty months apart and pregnancy weight gain of almost fifty pounds each time (although I'm happy to say I'm now back to fighting weight) have torn my six-pack into two parallel three-packs. A one-inch wide "fault-line" runs down my middle now. I haven't given up, though. I'm working on strengthening the underlying transverse muscles by doing what are called "elevator" exercises, but it's doubtful that the abs on top will ever meet in the middle again. If you are a fellow sufferer, this article from Fit Pregnancy may help.

I can't neglect to mention the great feeling I get when readers visit me from the links on my fellow bloggers' sites. Thanks, y'all who have listed me. If I haven't listed your blog yet, please let me know and I'll reciprocate.

How did YOU find me? No matter how you got here, I'll close by saying a simple "thank you" to my lovely readers. I appreciate having you there at your monitors, reading my posts, and--when you are so moved--weighing in on the comments page. You are what makes this endeavor worthwhile. *smooches*

p.s. Rest in Peace, Paul Guyot's Bog. Paul, I enjoyed reading anything and everything you had to say and, especially, savoring the exquisite illustrations you provided.

The Meme of Four

Yes, another meme, wherein I am afforded the exhilerating opportunity to talk about MYSELF, and know that others will be GLUED to their monitors with RAPTURE-glue. Vanity, thy name is MEEEEEEEEme.

The lovely Alphabeter has tagged me.

The FOUR Meme
Four jobs you have had in your life:
Winn-Dixie checker
English professor
Computer-lab attendant
Dancer

Four movies you watch over and over:
I think I did this one already (see Seven Things Meme for seven of them, then subtract three)

Four places you've lived:
Tallahassee
Sylacauga
Carrboro
Farmville

Four Shows you love to watch:
ummmm, I don't watch t.v. anymore. We just rent DVDs when we want to go back and see a series.
So, 4 shows I watch on DVD are
Arrested Development
The Office
Sex and the City
and that was three

Four places you've been on vacation:
The Swag
The Homestead
The Beaver Creek
The London

Four of your favourite foods:
[Did a Canadian write this meme?]
Dunkin Donut's Boston Creme donut
waffles with butter and maple syrup (does that count as three?)
my mother's meatless moussaka
black bean taco salad

Four places you'd rather be right now:
somewhere WARMer
my local Brew-Ha-Ha
I honestly can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be, though. I'm pretty content right here at the kitchen table.

Four sites I visit daily:
Bloglines for my list of updated blogs
weather.com
cnn.com
sitemeter.com, to see who has visited

Four bloggers you are tagging:
this is always a tough one because we are all so incestuous.
So, if you WANT to be tagged for this meme, consider yourself SO!

Four sheep breeds you could recognise in a field:
[Okay, so maybe the meme-writer is British. Scottish?]
black, brown, white, and white with black faces?

Four people you'd really like to meet (who are alive) and what you would ask them:
Thich Nhat Hanh - Will you adopt me?
Elizabeth George - How the h*ll do you write such long yet compelling books?
Nicole Kidman - C'mon. Lenny Kravitz??? WTHWYT?
Paul Farmer - Can I just tag along for a little while and absorb some of your superhumanness?

Professor AC

I've been bumming on this question, lately: Why. Does. It. Take. So. Long. To. Feed. My. Daughter. Her. Tiny. Little. Meals. Of. Peas. And. Cut. Peaches. And. Rice?

Today, I digested the lesson. In the course of my day, NOTHING is more important than to be here for my children. So I'm in a hurry. Big deal. What's the emergency? I might get behind on my blog reading?

This stage will pass, to be replaced by another one, equally important to AC, and therefore, to me. Instead of trying to rush her through for my sake, I'm going to breathe us through for both our sakes.

Sometimes I just need to be driven round the bend...slowly...to see where I am. And she's just the guide to do it. By. Gumming. Her. Bits. Of. Soft. Food. Very. Very. Slowly.

Grab Blag

Double take of the week: At a stoplight, I see a Honda Insight with cigarette smoke billowing out of the driver's side window. Whatever green he was going for has turned brown by now. Probably even black.

---

N (2.5y) has a little Jar Jar Binks action figure someone gave my husband back in the '90s. The arms are bent like goal posts, and when you flip them up and down his tongue goes in and out of his mouth. Heinous, heinous tchotchka. So N had it out yesterday, flip flip flip go the arms, in and out goes the tongue. And he shouts out with glee, "This YOU, Mama!" Moving right along...

---

I've decided to hang out my tutoring shingle. Not the shingle that tutors, mind you, but the shingle that says I do the tutoring. "Ye Olde Tewter Shoppe, Mary Louisa - Proprietesse," it shall read. I'm going to be tutoring in writing, grammar, vocabulary, literature, the works. Most sessions will be local (N. Delaware), but I'm also offering online sessions. College prep, test prep, course work help, business writing, the works. E-mail me if you're interested in more info.

---

Someone has to stop me. When I became a stay-at-home-mom last year, I thought I was prepared for the mental adjustment to living on one paycheck. Today, I'm not so sure I haven't moved through that to come out on...THE CRAZY BAG LADY SIDE. I seriously contemplated how I could make us some dishtowels out of something we already had lying around the house. Fraying bathtowels? Quite possible. Old tee shirts? Less likely. Too thin. Really, Mary Louisa, HOW MUCH DOES A DISHTOWEL COST? I think I can afford one. Maybe not two, but certainly one. Did I mention that our gas/electric bill for December was $319? No? What was yours?

---

Now you see why I am hanging out that shingle. It's partly because I am starting to miss teaching a little. But it's mostly because no one has yet driven a dump-truck full of money up to my front door.

Saturday Morning Quickie

Started Laura Lippman's CHARM CITY night before last. It's my first novel by her, but won't be my last. I've heard so many good things about TO THE POWER OF THREE that I will get it next.

Still trying to slog, and I mean SLOG, through Jane Smiley's 13 WAYS OF LOOKING AT A NOVEL. *yawn* Will try to skim some TALE OF GENJI in the next few days, as that is the first of one hundred and one "novels" she read in her post-9/11 recovery period.

Have a couple more chapters to reread of Maass's WRITING THE BREAKOUT NOVEL. I'm revising the first half of my novel before continuing, and reminding myself of some ideas I had and didn't put into play during the first draft.

There has been some fun in the house: We watched four episodes of ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT last night. I nearly passed out from laughter-induced oxygen deprivation. At 12:30am we knew we had to go to bed, but we could've easily continued.

I pledge to update my template soon to revamp my links.

Mother + Small Children = No Time to Write

I've done the math. The numbers are pretty depressing.

Today I have finally admitted to myself that there is just no quality time to write. I'm about halfway through my mystery manuscript, but chances of finishing within the next six months are bleak.

At this point I'm getting seven to eight hours of sleep per night, with at least one--sometimes two--wake-ups to nurse A during that stretch. I simply can't cut back there, or I will be worth less than I already am during the day. I'm on kid duty from about 8am to about 11pm when A finally goes down to sleep for a reasonable stretch.

Save your shouts about having my husband help more. D already gets N up in the morning, dresses him, and feeds him breakfast. When he manages to get home before 8pm, he either holds A or puts N to bed. But then he must eat his dinner and do the dishes (bless him), and he isn't done with that till about 10pm. He doesn't watch TV, he doesn't play video games, and he doesn't do chat, so there's no fat in his schedule. He is a wonderful partner and father, but he just works a lot.

I can catch ten minutes here and twenty minutes there throughout my days, but that's not even enough time to open my chapter-in-progress and remind myself of where I left off.

My writer friends who are also mothers of small children bemoan similar situations. However, I'd pretty successfully steered clear of facing it by adopting a once-a-week writing schedule in 2005. Generally, every Thursday that D could swing it, he would come home by 6:30, and I'd head out to the coffee shop with my laptop and stay until closing at 9pm. Occasionally, I'd also get two hours on a Saturday or Sunday.

I was okay with that schedule, thinking that somehow in 2006 I could get my butt in gear and carve out more time. But for the past three days I've looked at the daily schedule a million different ways, and working on the book more than once or twice a week just ain't gonna happen.

(And I do let the housework go. And N goes to daycare on Tuesdays and Thursdays.)

I am amenable to any and all suggestions that don't involve spending money. I predict, though, that the solution for now is for me to practice acceptance, and just write as well as I can, as often as I can.

Irresolutions

I don't do resolutions. I do goals. So, along with every other motivated Jane- and Joe-blogger, I hereby state my willingness to think about moving toward finding a way to approach the objectives of the following goals for 2006:

1. Finish the damn book. (Betcha never heard that one before.)

2. Start the next book.

3. Do a minimal vegetable and herb garden.

4. Get back to travel writing.

5. Cut down on my internet time. It doesn't mean I don't love y'all, cause really I do, but I have to find more time SOMEWHERE.

6. Lay money away for a new den floor, A's surgery, and an April trip to the ILs in Florida (involves flying and renting a van/SUV and paying for dogsitters--$$$).

7. Find a source of money to lay away.

There are a host of other things I'm already doing that I want to continue to do, so I won't post those here.

Last year was actually quite a wonderful one. My little A's birth was the real highlight. I made some new friends and I developed existing relationships. I adopted some habits that made my life a little more peaceful. I also adopted some habits that cancelled out some of the former's good effects. C'est la vie, non?

At some point last year, you may have noticed my film list on the side bar to the right. We squeaked in with Kinsey last night, making it the 25th movie seen in 2005 (as far as I can remember). I didn't list all the television series, music, or specials we watched on DVD (Sex and the City, Arrested Development, The Office, Upstairs Downstairs, Spike Jonze, Chris Cunningham and Michele Gondry music videos, Chris Rock, etc.). I'll try to remember to start the '06 list when we watch our first this year. It may be tonight, as I still have A Christmas Story from the library. Better late than never.

Happy New Year, everyone. May you and yours be blessed with health and happiness.

Hi, Honey, I'm Home

Lovely, lovely trip with the husband and two babes to Alabama to see my family. Lots of visiting, lots of eating, lots of chasing children, lots of driving, but, above all, lots of love.

Back at the ranch, things seemed to go well. The dogs survived our absence, as did the house (this house already burned down once--in 1978). The petsitters were diligent, and loads of mail and packages greeted us when we walked into our kitchen last night. It was Christmas morning all over again as we tore into the new gifts at 10pm.

One delightful part of the trip was seeing how content my children generally are. This is apart from one road-related discipline moment when the 2.5yo was yelling in the car for no other reason than to needle us and his 9mo sister. After N blew through the first warning, D and I were forced to pull over onto the shoulder of I-95 and get out of the car for a minute to show N that actions have consequences. My God, that was scary, and I don't see ever doing that again. Not only did semis roll by closely at 80mph, but the kids cried in our absence (as I would have). I think N learned his lesson. So did I: I need to find a less dangerous method to deal with screaming in the car. Any ideas?

A seems to be sick with a cold this first morning back, and while I am sorry for her, I am secretly pleased to have the time she is sleeping to put to organizing the house. As I type, though, I hear some coos from upstairs. A heavy diaper awaits me.

I'm pondering some goals for 2006, and hope to make a post on this topic in a day or so. Meantime, I've got to be Momma, sort through mail and pay bills, wash clothes, plan some menus, and run various errands. We're back in business here.

I hope that all of you are enjoying the holidays, feeling some peace and some love.

'Tis the Season

The problem with time is that we think we have it. If we realized that we don't possess time, then perhaps we would become less stressed and more open to the miracles that happen every moment around us.

Please replace every instance of the word "we" with "I" in the above. I admit it, this lesson is for me. I'm the one who's grasping toward the illusion of time. I'm having trouble fitting in everything I have to do for myself and my family before we leave for my folks' next week. And isn't it a shame that I may be missing some of the magic? My 2.5yo son is just now discovering the wonders of Santa Claus, Christmas lights, stockings, and cocoa. I must slow down and breathe it in.

At the top of my to-do list, I should just write:
Every moment is an infinity, and yet, every moment is born and then dies.

Maybe de-pooping the backyard isn't so important after all.


So...
I am signing off until at least the end of December, if not the New Year, when I will return with a little list of goals I'd like to accomplish in the infinity of moments that we everyday folk like to call 2006.

I wish all of my brothers and sisters a wonderful holiday season of joy and peace.
Your faithful,
Mary Louisa

Seven Things Meme

Oh, I do love a meme! It gives me an excused absence from creating a blog entry from scratch. Thanks to the fetching Lisa Coutant for tagging me.

Seven Things to Do Before I Die:
1. Visit the Puglia region of Italy
2. Finish the novel I'm writing
3. Finish writing and mail my Christmas cards
4. Make the kids' baby books
5. Ski in the Alps
6. Take a luxury cruise of some exotic coastline (without the kids, natch)
7. ummmm, nothing else comes to mind except to keep hugging and kissing and loving on the family

Seven Things I Cannot Do:
1. Lie convincingly
2. Tell a joke. To save my life. My trying to tell a joke is a comedy act in and of itself. You really will laugh AT me, not WITH me.
3. Throw a frisbee
4. See without contacts or glasses
5. Raise one eyebrow
6. Keep a houseplant alive for more than six months
7. Make a convincing croissant

Seven Things that Attract Me to My Spouse [romantic interest, best friend, whomever](not necessarily in this order!):
1. His sense of humor
2. His boyish good looks
3. His smarts
4. His height
5. His sensitivity
6. His creativity
7. His passion

Seven Things I Say (or write!) Most Often:
1. sure
2. yep
3. WOW
4. hugs
5. ML
6. holy crap
7. NO! (when you live with wayward pets and toddling kids, that one gets over-used)

Seven Books (or series) I Love:
1. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
2. Ceremony (Silko)
3. The Crying of Lot 49 (Pynchon)
4. And to Think that I Saw it on Mulberry Street (Seuss)
5. House of Mirth (Wharton)
6. Kozak's Wollie Shelley mysteries
7. Fair and Tender Ladies (Smith)
ooooooh, I could go ooooooon...

Seven Movies I Would Watch Over and Over Again:
1. Groundhog Day
2. Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
3. Apocalypse Now
4. The Godfather
5. Miller's Crossing
6. On the Waterfront
7. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (Taylor/Newman/Ives)

Seven People I Want to Join in: (be tagged)
1. Lynsloo
2. Steph C.
3. Becky
4. Erica M-R
5. Christa (I know I just tagged you, but you need something to keep you off your feet)
6. Joshilyn Jackson
7. Shanraye

Be fruitful and multiply the meme, my daughters.

Draw a Map for Me

Am I the only almost-novelist who is just now figuring this out? I drew a map of my fictional setting the other day. It was a revelation. An inspiration. A veritable well-spring of new ideas.

Until I set to diagramming the digs of my sleuth and her fellow citizens, I had ignored in my book concrete (pun intended) illustrations of what gives a small southern town its flavor--bits of local color that beg to be included. There are the monuments of racial strife: the "Academy," or the private school built to "protect" the town's white students from forced desegregation, and the Confederate soldier statue, who faces eternally South. There is the rich religious history: the AME Zion Church as well as the First Presbyterian. Change is inevitable, we know: What will become of the shuttered main street department store or the struggling independent hardware store? New apartments, a bowling alley, a Hardees or Popeye's, and a BP station squeeze into strange spots. A strip joint beckons from the outskirts, across from the Chinese buffet and the Guatemalan grocery.

Can you tell I enjoyed this exercise in world-building? I can't wait to get back to it. First though, two naps are now done, and with them two dirty diapers to be changed. Then snacks. Don't forget the two barking dogs due their dinners. A little playtime and laundry, followed by dinner preparation. But relief is in sight. My husband will be home early tonight (yes, 6:30 is early) for our once-a-week trade-off, when he lets me "do my own thing" for several hours. My atlas awaits...

Speaking of CEREMONY

I mentioned in the post below that one of my favorite novels is Leslie Marmon Silko's CEREMONY. In it, a battle-fatigued Laguna WWII veteran returns home to find his Pueblo dying. The book follows him on his journey to bring himself, his people, and his land back to health. In the process, he is treated by two American Indian healers. I just saw this link today on cnn.com.

15 things about books

Robert Gregory Browne tagged me for a book meme. You list 15 facts and personal preferences about books. It's my first meme!

1. Last year about this time I sold off approximately $300 worth of books from my collection. I don't regret it one bit.

2. At the same time, I donated approximately five moving boxes full of books to our AAUW yearly book sale.

3. At present, I own mostly paperback books. I seem to be on an unstated hardback moratorium.

4. I used to buy all my books used. Force of habit from grad school bag lady days.

5. Now I try to buy new books, since I understand better how an author's career depends on that particular exchange of capital.

6. As a child, my mother and I would go I would go with my mother to the downtown Huntsville (AL) Public Library once a week to check out books. We also checked out artwork to hang on our walls. I will never ever forget the smell of that building, especially the children's room, an odor I will always associate with inspiration and delight.

7. It never in a million years would've occurred to me to be afraid of germs in library books, as Anne Frasier noted, but now that I've read THIS, I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't be more careful. I do live close to Philadelphia.

8. My two children have approximately one-hundred books. The older is not even two and a half. About twenty of these are books from my own childhood. All but a handful of the rest were gifts.

9. We read POLAR EXPRESS to N last night for the first time. At bedtime he made D read it three times before he would allow the light to be turned off. He woke up an hour earlier than usual this morning, shouting, "My Express Book! My Express Book!" I had to begin the reading cycle again immediately. It has continued throughout the day. I cry every time I read the last page.
How many more days until Christmas?

10. My three favorite novels are, in no particular order, ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN (Twain), CEREMONY (Leslie Marmon Silko), and THE CRYING OF LOT 49 (Thomas Pynchon). I own multiple editions of each. I have lots of second favorites.

11. I have about twenty copies of my own book in my closet. I also have about ten copies of my grandmother's book of stories.

12. I own quite a few first editions by American authors. Do I read them? No. They sit on a shelf inside a closet where the light can't get to them. Brilliant.

13. Giving the gift of a book is one of the finest things one can do.

14. I have never seen my mother go to bed without a book in her hand. Ever.

15. I bought my mom a brick at my local library in thanks for instilling her love of books in me.

Oh, crap! I just realized (a few hours later) that I, too, need to tag people. I tag Christa M. Miller, Matthew Masucci, and Jason Evans to participate!

Turkey Atonement

So, to combat the karmic liability of eating the turkey, I made us a macrobiotic Thanksgiving feast on Saturday. My preparations began Friday night when I whipped up some home-made seitan. Yes, that's pronounced SAY-tan. You can believe it has supplied an endless stream of jokes in our house. I made it the traditional way, with 4 cups whole wheat flour and 4 cups unbleached white flour. You add water and knead all the bran and starch away, leaving only the rubbery gluten. Takes a long time, too much water, and leaves one's wrists rather cramped. Except for the wasting the water (I could've preserved it for bread baking or to pour on the compost pile), I think I upped my score.

So after you've created what looks like a tight ball of yellow elastic bands, you plop it into a broth of water, soy sauce, and kombu. (Macrobiotics is all about sea vegetables, you know, for which I'm game, pretty much, except for hijiki.)

I have to say that the finished product is not so bad! It comes closest to tasting like/having the texture of octopus, which we've eaten in Italy and the states. It's a tad rubbery, but picks up the broth flavor very nicely. If you don't want it to have the soy sauce flavor, you can cook it in another sort of broth, I suppose. And people also add herbs to the ball of gluten itself before cooking.

Turkey Post-Mortem

So I ate some turkey on Thanksgiving. White meat. And it was good. Yes, I'm a vegetarian, or a fishetarian. Or something like that. But it was THANKSGIVING, for God's sake. I'm not made of stone, people.

We went to a restaurant buffet for Tgiving dinner and ate many nice foodses, including deep-fried something-or-other served in cream sauce. It was REALLY good. But I wasn't sure what it was, so I asked the waitress. And she in turn asked the chef, within my hearing. And he answered with what sounded like polkin ravioli.

She was as confused as I. She asked one more time.

He: "Polkin ravioli."

So naturally I had to go over and ask him myself, since although I am a food snob, I am not familiar with polkin. "What is it?"

"Polkin ravioli."

From a few steps away, my husband says, "Pumpkin ravioli." As though the waitress and I were in kindergarten.

And I felt like I was, too, because then I remembered they had it on the buffet last year. And the year before. I plead turkey.

Is "polkin" a Delaware pronunciation? Anybody?

Black Friday Sonnet

The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.--Great God! I'd rather be
A pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.

--William Wordsworth, of course. But you knew that.

Proud Mommy Moment

I have to share with you the picture my 28mo son drew of my 8mo daughter today. It was totally unsuggested, uncoached, unassisted by either my husband or me. As he drew the face, he told us what he was drawing ("eyes," "nose," "mouth"). Is he or is he not a creative genius?

In unison: Of course he is!

I Think He's a Mariah Man

Gary is a feature writer, not a book reviewer, but he couldn't help himself when someone dropped a bomb into his inbox.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING, EVERYONE.

p.s. I never got to the television last night to watch L&O:SVU. I'm hoping to be relaxing in front of the fireplace Thanksgiving night, so I'll look for more cop shows later on in the weekend. Thanks for everyone's sage advice.