Adventures of Mary

Finally able to live my dream

2011-01-06T13:22:00.001-05:00

cOk. For all of my friends and family who read this blog, you would know what the title of this entry means.

I can finally spend time writing. This statement sounds a little crazy considering I have been blogging for years, but with two children, a husband who is often traveling overseas, and living in or around the District, I had no time to sit down and finish stories. Now with an additional blessing in my life, my little 9 month old, I actually find time to write. I won't go into the details as to how or why because it's not the important part.

The important part is that my beloved husband agreed to go on a new adventure that also allowed me to explore new cuisines, discover different cultures, and still find time to write.

My Real Life

2010-06-04T19:06:00.002-04:00

I haven't been writing in a few months as I have been very busy. My daughter was born and we moved. Life summed up in one sentence. It's okay that I haven't written. I've forgiven myself and realized that life isn't going to happen how I want it to be, but it's okay. So what if there are months that go by without being able to blog or never getting caught up on my emails. It's okay. The truth is, most of my life I spend listening to others, observing what they are doing, and studying the world around me. There will be a day when I start to send out my stories to publishers, but I have to be realistic that there will be months that go by when I'll feel like I'm sitting in the middle of the lake in a small canoe while there's a motor boat race going on around me. Everyone else is on those boats and I'm sitting in my little canoe watching them. I've felt like this for years, but I have finally learned to accept it. It's okay. My life is busy. Writing can wait.

Weblogs, not Blogs

2010-01-30T10:23:00.008-05:00

Hi Empty Air. Miss me? Did you wonder what ever happened to your non-blogger? I was taking 12 credits at Old Dominion University and 4 credits at Tidewater Community College. We were trying out the 'one car lifestyle' and my body was adjusting to having a living, growing, feeding life inside. Finally, December 15th, school ended and then the holidays came. We left Norfolk to visit family in Maryland and in Blacksburg, Virginia. Finally, January 3rd, we arrived back at our little home to unpack and resume our normal schedule, minus my attending school. I was 28 weeks pregnant when we returned (6 months for people who don't care to do the multiplication) and had to purge my closets of non-basketball hiding clothes. I was also dreadfully tired which I believe is partly a pregnancy issue and partly from non-stop going for the entire fall and winter.

Fortunately, between Oct. 19 and now, I have had some time to think about what I wanted to write about and decided that first I must address the whole "blog thing." If I am going to be "blogging" but claiming that I'm not, then I must decide why I detest the word, "blog".

I figured it out one night while I was folding laundry. Folded laundry, by the way, is a very comforting thing once it's done, as it promises clean warm clothes, but the actual act of folding is one of my chores that I abhor. It's a process that never ends. Wear the clothes and then when the clothes are too stained, smell too bad, or are covered with kitty cat hairs (or doggie hairs as Rory doesn't want to be left out), put it in the washer. Then out it goes, wet, so it must be put in the dryer. Tumble a little, pull out, fold, put away, and then what? It's time to wear it again and the cycle starts over. I guess a person who is single would wonder why I would waste brain cells to think about this, but once one is married and has children, it's no longer seven shirts a week to wash, fold, and put away. It's seven shirts times the number of people in the house. I often chuckle over how the public fawns over Angelina Jolie's little family of 6 kids. Do we really believe that she's washing 42 shirts a week, 42 pairs of socks, 42 pairs of undies (assuming they change them every day), in addition to her own and Brad's? The phrase, "with money comes privilege" should be changed to "with money comes maids" because that's the trick. Have a cleaning lady to do the laundry and then you are free to adopt as many kids as you want. I know there are other families that have more children than 6, but since Angelina Jolie's name is like saying "Coca Cola" because it's so well known, I've decided to use her as the example. I could use the Duggar family as an example as well. If there are 19 children, that's 133 shirts to wash each week. I could pretend that a shirt can be worn twice, but most children managed to spill at least two different items per day on their shirts and can be considerably unsightly.

Ah, see, this is a blog. There's no doubt about it. It's a journey into my musings and thoughts about life. There are so many blogs about everything now that I could probably look up "paw prints on couch" and find a blog written about it! Yet, the very word, "blog" in itself, is the part that I have a problem. I don't care if a person has a blog. I finally decided why I don't like the word "blog" and refuse to call myself a blogger and do not want to openly acknowledge that I have a blog. Who came up with the word "blog" anyway? It's a terrible word. Blog. I understand the word, "log" or "diary" or "journal" but I don't understand why the letter, "b" was attached to the word, "log". It's a terrible blah sounding word.

In Wikipedia it states that the word, "blog", is "web log". Instead of spending the time paraphrasing the article I found, I would recommend reading it for yourself if you wanted the whole scoop.

I think I fell asleep a little while I was reading it, but as a quiet linguist, I actually like word origins. I think that we could call it "journaling", "keeping a public diary", or something else besides trying to say, "blop" and messing up the last part of the sound by adding a "g". Blop. That's a great sound when something wet hits the floor. Playdoh makes a sloppy blop sound when it hits the floor. It's like something fell from our brain and onto a website, "bbbbllllloooooppppp." Then someone said, hey let's call it "blog" instead of "blop".

Maybe I'm reading too much into this word. Or maybe there are other people out in this world who think the same thing.

The good thing about have a "blog" is that technically, it can be a networking device, a connection to others of the same thought, or more importantly, a way to write ones' thoughts and get it out even if it means it's not a published article in a newspaper or journal. If I was a dedicated writer to this blog I could conceivably build up a following of readers. Unfortunately, this would not happen, at least not now. I have a son who has interrupted me every 30 seconds for the last hour that I have tried to write this one entry. It's a no-no for me to think that I could sit and write down anything at the computer while there are people awake in this house. I had thought that with the whole family being out, minus my son, I would have an opportunity to write. Alas, I always forget that the best action packed movie will only hold my son's attention if he knows that I am off doing housework. The moment I sit to type he is by me asking me questions, begging me for attention, creating a small mountain of mess in the other room, or cutting the cat's hair off with a pair of scissors that I forgot to lock up. This is when I remind myself that I could very well wait until the school week when he's in school. I have the opportunity to write between 8:45 and 11:45 but so far, for all of January, I have used this time to catch up on the backlog of items I wasn't able to touch last fall while I was in school. Or sleep. Those promised 3 hours go fast as I use them on napping, errands, and endless "cleaning out" of stuff that had accumulated over the months while I was busy at school. Then, the next opportunity to write would be after my oldest daughter goes to bed. This would be sometime after 9pm but by then my brain is fried and I barely know my name, especially these days, with every brain cell being kidnapped by my unborn baby.

Wow! That was a whole 6 minutes before my son came in to yell "duh" in my face and tell me how he's not going to take a nap. His red jello covered lips are so red in comparason to his bare chest; he insists upon not wearing a shirt even though it's only 65 in the house. I must go put the little guy down for his nap for it's going to be a very long day otherwise. We're without a car and it's snowing. So we're a bit confined to the house for the day which isn't an easy feat with a preschooler who also happens to be a very active boy who doesn't like to play with his toys for very long.

I'll end up falling asleep next to him, naturally. He did, after all, not realize that he could sleep in past 6 as it is a Saturday. Still, last night was bliss as I slept a whole 8 hours not counting the 3 bathroom breaks and 1 time to check that the alarm was on. Emma, my unborn daughter, likes to jump on her "water bed" which is in medical terms, called a "bladder".

Blinded By Fur

2009-10-19T14:10:00.002-04:00

I have two cats. Both are orange and that is where the similarities end. One cat is delightfully soft, plump, and loves to eat food. Initially, when we first adopted this chubby, he was very scared. Timid. Shy. I'm not sure exactly which one of these adjectives described his nature, but we decided to name him after the famous pink pig in "Winnie the Pooh". The other cat jumps up to bat paper balls, occasionally sits on my shoulders, and refuses to gain weight. We decided to name him after the bouncy cat in "Winnie the Pooh". Now, T, the skinny cat, has become a bit obsessed with hanging out by me while I'm using the laptop. Even though I tend to think scientifically, I wasn't able decide which came first, the obsession with the laptop or the desire to be next to me. Whenever I open my computer to use, there's T right next to me, trying desperately to climb onto the keyboard. He won't leave it alone. He's only happy when he's sitting directly on the keys which I won't allow as it makes awful noises. Sometimes T will accept that he can sit next to the laptop only if it is on top of the papers that I am directly working on. Every night when I sit down to do my papers and use the computer, here comes T, ready to spring onto the keyboard. I came up with a method of throwing paper balls to distract T, but the downside to this method is now he expects me to throw the balls.

Here were a few thoughts as to why T is insisting that he sit on the computer.
Is it that I'm really only sitting down when I'm on the computer? And alone? I sit down to eat dinner, but I sit next to the loud jumpy little human that's potentially dangerous, so T doesn't come to me then. So maybe that's why T comes to me when I open the computer.

Today I think I have my answer. After all, this isn't the best written essay. It's because I can't see. I'm lying in bed, laptop on knee, and T has successfully laid his entire body directly in front of my face. In fact, he's on my face. He's soft, purring, and very content. Although I don't have the heart to tell him to move, I now think I have my answer. T wants me, not the computer.

Life is good.

Wait, I hope that's not copyrighted like T's name is.

Clutter Attack: How Much is Too Much?

2009-10-12T21:59:00.005-04:00

Towels.
Blankets.
Wash clothes.
Lunch boxes.
Shoes.
Brooms.
Dustpans.
Dog balls.
Toys.
Candles.
Place mats.
Garden tools.
Garden gloves.
Sweaters.
Books.

How much should I have of each? How much is too much? So far, I haven't found a website that has helped me answer this question.

70 towels. That's how many towels I counted. Family and friends kept giving me gently used towels...
dog towels
car washing towels
oops towels
spit up towels
guest towels
pool towels
family towels
beach towels
Eight times...eight equals sixty four. So basically, every category had eight towels, supposedly. And I lugged this growing pile of towels around with me from state to state for 14 years.
Then one day I made two stacks:
dog towels
family towels
And I donated the rest to the local homeless shelter that was having a drive in need of towels.

What a wonderful feeling.

Now I think we have a total of 20 towels. That estimate might be a bit high. Mom, thank you, but I don't need any more towels right now. Laura, it's okay. We'll let you know, too!

Pack rat tip of the day:

Less can be more!

Clutter Attack: The Hoarder?

2009-10-12T21:01:00.009-04:00

The four frisbees found a home today. Mrs. Fox, the P.E. Teacher at Christ the King, graciously accepted them. I admitted I wasn't sure how they found their way into our house (maybe they breed like rabbits or mice!). Mrs. Fox was very happy to have them and I was very pleased I was able to give them to her. It was a wonderful feeling. I admit that for a moment I clutched to one thinking that maybe I needed to keep it, just in case that we want to play with it. I even tried to justify that I was going to keep the one that looked ratty. Then I looked down at my dog's big teeth and knew that at the moment we left it in the yard, it would be chewed up. So I clutched to the frisbees, trudged to the car, and allowed myself to feel really, really good about giving them away.

Now that I write about giving these frisbees away and the wonderful feeling it gave me, I also feel the little bit of worry creeping up from behind the wonderful feeling. This worry threatens to take away my happiness of being able to lighten my load. Sometimes my eagerness to share my writings with my family may get me in trouble. My mom has been short with me the last 3 days; she hasn't been eager to gab with me like she usually does. Has she read my blog about how I am trying to become less of a packrat? We really can't call me a minimalist as I keep favorite cookbooks that I never open, save dishes that people gave me that I will probably never use, and have more bags to carry stuff in than stuff! I know my Mom has encouraged me to lighten my load as every move we made we faced the same question...where do you put it all?! My Dad sent me an awesome article one day about how much money we spend on buying containers and furniture to store our surplus items. I will post it once I find it. He's right. And granted, this necessary evil is part of life but there has to be a point when we question how much is too much.

For example, books! My parents aren't fond of having too many books especially when they are moving from place to place. They moved quite a bit while I was growing up so I guess they became tired of packing and unpacking books. They could have left that part to the movers but maybe they had the same experience I have had where the movers pack heavy books on top of half closed liquids that stain on top of expensive shirts on top of nice glassware. They tried storing them in Tennessee when they moved to Puerto Rico only to find that a chunk had mildewed. They tried taking them with them when they moved, but unfortunately, a chunk of them also mildewed. I think they finally gave up and decided it wasn't worth keeping but a few special ones (how they kept these from mildewing is still a mystery), and yet, as I write about their distaste for keeping books, I am aware that they are pack rats in other areas. Fortunately, they have admitted to this so there's hopefully no grudge tomorrow after they read this newest entry! Knowing that they are pack rats help me understand my behaviour.

What really frustrates me is that I know I'm not a hoarder. Unfortunately, what is scary, is that if I were to believe that www.dictonary.com is true, I am a hoarder! This is what it says to hoard means:
noun

1.	a supply or accumulation that is hidden or carefully guarded for preservation, future use, etc.: a vast hoard of silver.

–verb (used with object)

2.	to accumulate for preservation, future use, etc., in a hidden or carefully guarded place: to hoard food during a shortage.

–verb (used without object)

3.	to accumulate money, food, or the like, in a hidden or carefully guarded place for preservation, future use, etc.

This obviously doesn't describe the modern day "hoarder" as it really describes anyone who cares for anything past today. I can't imagine calling myself or my hubby a "hoarder" because we keep a half empty bottle of car wax to use the next time we wash our car. It's not necessarily carefully guarded as it sits out in plain view on our back porch (on a shelf so one would have to bend the knees to see it), but we are keeping it for the future.

I do feel a bit selfish holding onto stuff I never use, stuff that could be used by someone else. Instead, I hang onto it for that day I might use it, like the many books that fill our bookshelves, or the 4 full cans of 'Off' that I detest using (but somehow we keep acquiring them). I have been an excellent participant utilizing "Freecycle" to eliminate some of our excess stuff, like the 12 half used containers of boot polish that we lugged around ever since we moved to Maryland. A guy who worked with wood saw it on "Freecycle" and gladly took it off our hands.

What's really funny is three moves ago, back in 2003, when I was packing up our house, I found 4 keyboards in our basement. This was not our keyboard that we were using at the time, but 4 additional ones that were used; each had come from a "loving" friend or family member. I wonder how much was "loving" and how much was really about them finally being able to get rid of it! I don't mean to sound mean, but at the time I guess "Freecycle" didn't exist and some of our friends (and family) are concerned about the environment. I'm sure they would far rather see it go to my hubby who says he could use one that to be sitting under a bit of dirt for 200 years.

I know I should be off perfecting my children stories. I should be spending my days working on my illustrations. Unfortunately, I can't until I finish these "spring cleaning" projects. There might be a pending move soon and I certainly don't want to take 10 bins of junk with us. There's just 10 bins (more or less) standing between me and being able to turn my brain back onto editing my children stories and sending them out. In the meantime, I will continue to write about the struggle to change my ways; maybe there's someone else who wants to lighten the load and needs a little help.

Before I go...a few tips for the packrat:

1. Don't use the word "my" or "ours" for stuff that is potentially leaving the house. If you make it personal, it will feel personal.
2. Pack everything from one very messy room to one side to clear out a space. Look at the space and then carefully select what you put back. Don't try to make a home for an item.
3. Those items that you've put aside? See if there are any duplicates and keep only the very best. Donate all the duplicates.
4. The remaining items that you didn't find a home for can go into a separate room and left to chill for the night...only if you promise that the very next day you will finish. You might find that you just had your items in the wrong room. After all, why did I have a bike helmet on the back porch when the bike is in the garage? If not, you can say goodbye. Think about the item and how much time it sucks from your life. There have been many hours that I have spent over the last year picking up the same item and putting it away again. After all, I'm not the only person who lives here. The small humans have hands, arms, and a mind to be a bit curious. It's not something that is done on purpose but I or hubby will be the one to come in behind and pick up. Isn't my time more valuable than that object?

I did it! I sent out my SCBWI registration!!!

2009-10-09T18:57:00.002-04:00

Please understand that this is huge for me! I sent out my SCBWI registration! I had it in my purse for all of September. I looked at it every day, sometimes looking at it several times a day It felt like a dream to me, to think that I was finally going to my first SCBWI conference. I don't want to get too excited, but the thought of being in the same room with published children writers makes me want to jump up and down for a few minutes (not sure I should do that since I'm now 17 weeks pregnant).

Then one day I woke up to a terrible nightmare. What if I miss the deadline to submit my registration?! I wouldn't be able to go out to dinner with my friends Damaris and Adal, or my friend/brother-in-law, Alex, and my new friend/sister-in-law-to-be, Liz! I wouldn't be able to agonize over what I am going to wear to the conference, how early I should arrive, what I should pack for my lunch. I won't need to go over the directions again and again, studying all metro maps to make sure I choose the best routes to be there, early. I won't be able to chose whether I will use my brown bag, my briefcase, or if it's time to buy a new tote bag for meetings such as this. I won't need to make hotel reservations at Bolling Air Force Base or study past newsletters with SCBWI to see what tips I can pick up to help me use the conference to the fullest. I won't need to clean out the car, pack it with snacks, make my family drive the 4 hours up to Northern Virginia while I chat their ears off about how excited I am. And why? Because I procrastinated so much that I missed the deadline.

Well, I wasn't going to, of course. No, it would be disastrous to miss out on something this big. Writing has been something that has been part of my life since I was very little and with all these years of preparation, it was time to stop wading on the edge of the water and plunge into its depths! I'm working on my website, I'm revising my stories, I'm cleaning up my illustrations, and I'm beginning to network outside my normal circles. Nooooo.....so today was the day I decided that it was imperative that I send it out.

Um, there was only one problem. I had a math class and a math quiz so I could only partially prepare the mailing. As a person who gets lost in steps, I had to think out what I had to do. It's just stuffing and sending, right? Ha ha! That's a common misconception!

Here's what I need to do in order to send out the registration.
1. Check that the information that I wrote down is correct. This is very possibly the most common mistake that I do. I'm talking to the kids, I'm simultaneously thinking about homework, or I'm distracted by the 3rd fly in the last hour that somehow managed to get into the house and is insisting upon landing on the chicken that I've just cooked for hubby. Mistakes happen all the time which is why I'm always proofing.

2. Write the check. Record the check on the back of the checkbook pad as I don't have the register. It's somewhere in my desk, but I don't want to waste anymore time so this is a terrible shortcut. This is where I also contemplate using that new Bank of America checking account that I had set up specifically for my writing expenses, but since they've been taking $5 a month out for inactivity, I'm seriously considering closing that account. I mull over this thought for a few minutes, feeling rather indecisive, then ultimately decide that this one check could come out of our second personal account and I'll figure out what to do about recording it in the future. I could use an accounting software program, assuming that I would stay with it. It's not worth starting something and then not use it.

3. Address the envelope. Is this the correct address? Didn't I see an email about the address being incorrect to the registration? Was it in regards to submitting manuscripts? Make note to self: in future, print out email and keep in folder that holds the registration form so you are sure you have it right.

4. Return address for me. Find those neat labels that you printed out 6 months ago and affix to envelope.

5. Search in vain for stamps. You know you have them, but where are you storing them? Later, after I had purchased more stamps at the post office, I remembered that I keep them in my briefcase so I would have them close at hand. Ah, the life of the distracted!

6. Write a little note to the person who is receiving the registration form. After all, this person is a volunteer with SCBWI, a real person who has his or her own life (in this case, it's a woman). How many envelopes has she received where she's gotten just a check and a registration form? She's not a robot; she deserves a little thanks for her time.

7. Rewrite the little note to Linda Budzinkski, the lady who is volunteering her time to help SCBWI. After all, she may be a volunteer, but who's to say that she really wants to know that you are going to add her blog to your blog? Scratch that personal touch. She doesn't know you; she won't understand that this childish act is really who you are. You do this all the time, but most grownups don't know if it's sincere because it's being too personal too soon...just like most children do.

8. Make a self-addressed stamped postcard. You know you have a lot of postcards. And even if the clock says you have to go to math class NOW, look in that drawer that holds all those cards and find something! If you don't do it now, who says you will go back to this process once you return home from your class. Especially with your kids being home from school today and that pending computer project due....Make sure and write a little funny note to yourself on the postcard. It's not like you receive mail from yourself just any old day.

9. Put postcard on outside of envelope. Don't put it inside or you will forget and seal it!!! Then you won't have a stamp on it! Go to the post office and ask Mr. Smyth what you need in postage before you put it in the envelope! Don't trust that you will remember not to seal the envelope before getting that stamp on the post card!!

10. Head to math class. Take quiz. Feel like you did a great job!

11. Head to post office. Smile at woman who is 9.5 months pregnant and talk about kids. Stand with hubby and smile at his good looks. Wait.

12. Purchase "Forever" stamps. Stick on envelope.

13. Stumble over word choice. Ask Mr. Smyth if he could do that thingy that he does with the stamp. Husband saves you. Asks if you want it to be canceled. Yes!

14. Say goodbye to registration and envelope. Watch Mr. Smyth move it away from your view. Wonder if you should have made a copy of the registration form before sending it out. Figure it would probably be good to do that...if you were more organized (or wanted to be a pack rat).

Fourteen steps. See, Dad, this is why I don't write you snail mail. I send email. It's just too many steps to worry about every time. I know you're old school, but be thankful I email!

Clutter Attack! Those Piles That Waste Our Time!

2009-10-09T17:40:00.008-04:00

This weekend is so much fun. It's the "Fall break" for Old Dominion University. This means there's no art class for tomorrow. Oh joy. Hear the excitement in my voice? It's because I know what that means. Free time to do what I have been putting off doing. Would that be...sleeping? One of my professors, Grad-student/professor, Carmen Christopher, is heading off to an island with no t.v. to catch up on some well-deserved sleep. I think it's great that she's "getting away" to do a little catch up in the "Z" department. I know little of Carmen except that she hasn't any children and that she works 39 hours a day (I love odd numbers). I wonder if she has to deal with the sort of clutter that we Moms have to deal with even though she's single and childless.

Is it possible that I am I excusing my own pack-rat skills on my children? After all, are they really to blame? Are they the ones that helped us acquire five frisbees? I don't even know how we have managed to become owners of five frisbees and why so many? I know that the moment that we forget one in the back yard after a short time of play, our wonderful dog will chew it up. Perhaps this is why we have five. Sadly, we don't even use these frisbees. I suppose we would if we weren't always working on sorting out clutter and finding places to put it away only to start the process over the next day.

I'm always a bit..um, well, the word envious is a bit too strong, but I'm not going to bother trying to find a milder alternative...but I'm a bit of this (emotion) when I think about how some people are able to live in peace with just a few items. My brother-in-law, Alex, recently moved in with his fiance, Liz. Together, they found a smaller apartment to share with their little girl who is 4, as the location was better for them. While I was visiting their new place in May, I asked them how they managed to combine households. Liz described it visually, saying she cried over a few shoes that had to go into the giveaway box, but knew it was a great sacrifice if it meant getting Alex more hours a day. I being the joker could have said something like she could wear Alex on her feet if she was missing having a different pair of shoes, but since most people don't get my jokes, I kept my mouth shut this time.

So like Liz and Alex, I am going to continue the exciting process (after I finish my computer homework) of sorting through clutter that has been slowly growing in my house. I am going to eliminate most of it. This means that most items will find their place in the recycle bin, freecycle bin, or trash. As I may have stated before, this is a journey that I've been on for a better part of a year now. When I first started, we had moved almost everything we owned into two 10X20 storage units. They were filled to the max, from bottom to top, and from left to right. This was after having a huge yard sale where we unloaded almost half of our belongings. As we slowly moved into our new home, not a single item was spared of my intense scrutiny. Still, I know that there's a surplus of many things that I gave in and kept. Unfortunately, a chunk of these items are mine that I couldn't part with, like extra candles, misc. art supplies, and books. I'm okay with this as I know that these particular items will be reanalyzed again once I start packing us up for our next move. And yes, I said "I". I know hubby wants me to use the movers again, but I disliked how they nodded when I told them not to pack any liquid item that was in our basement...and then they put half closed jars of turpentine on top of glass bowls on top of John's dress shirts...with a brick on top of the jars.

I digress.

Back to the clutter issue: this weekend I'm going to hit the back porch, the bin under the table, the bins of misc. paper items in the attic, and then the garage. The later hasn't been touched since we moved in this last spring and we've been waiting for the weather to cool to remove most of the tiger-striped mosquitoes that insist on making our backyard their home. What an exciting weekend. The only comfort I find is that I'm not just cleaning stuff up or putting stuff away. I know that I'm getting rid of some stuff. For example, how many frisbees do we really need?

Tips for the pack rat who wants to know where to start in "lowering the amount of stuff to store":

Don't ask yourself when was the last time you used it. This never works as you know it might be an item that you only use once a year.

Instead, ask, do you ever want to use it again?

Do you have duplicates of this item and if so, why?

Is it something necessary or it is one of those items that promises to help your life, like a time-saving device?

What would happen if you put it in a box and labeled "give away" and put it in the attic...would you find that you would need it in the future? Or would it just sit there and collect dust?

I know, I know...you don't want to have too many questions to answer at once. This will be a good start.

Remember, be patient with yourself. You didn't start out this way in life...this collection of things was a slow process and now to re-train yourself will also take some time.

Clutter Attack: Mail!

2009-10-08T23:17:00.004-04:00

I decided that when we made our move to our newest home, we would keep our temporary post office box. The mail that comes with the house is usually weighed down with a pound of unwanted fliers; I thought that by having a post office box, we could eliminate some of this extra waste.

As an added bonus, it gives my hubby and me a little more control over where the mail goes once it's taken out of the box. On more than one occasion, I have stumbled accidentally upon an important notice or bill that was overdue in the oddest of places...under the couch, on top of the t.v. This indicates to me that one of the small humans that share our home have raided the mail box hoping to find the most recent edition of Highlights, and thus, have discarded the "less important mail." Keeping the little fingers out of the box ensures that we grown-ups are able to receive this very boring but important mail.

Finally, the best part about having the mail box is that it enables us to retrieve the mail once or twice a week (instead of every day) and then promptly recycle all unnecessary mail that somehow managed to be sent to us. For example, we're on two different lists for receiving mail from religious groups that we don't belong to. Have I bothered to contact the listservs and let them know we aren't interested in receiving their newsletters? Yes, and both times I have left messages without any response on their end. While I hope that they will take us off the mailing list, I'm recycling the newsletter in the meantime. It isn't allowed to end up in the magazine basket as no one will read it and it will just end up sitting there.

After the junk is recycled, I then open up all the remaining items. If it's a bill that's to be attended to immediately, I give it to my hubby. I used to pay the bills myself, but now that I'm a full-time student and writer, I'm delegating a bit better. All the envelopes that hold the bills are recycled. I suppose I could reuse them or cut them up for scrap, but currently I have more scrap paper I could make a paper-mache dinosaur the size of my mini-van and still have leftovers! Finally, anything that is not a bill but requires attention currently goes on a bullentin board in the kitchen. I know this may be a disastrous move as it clutters the wall, but currently it's the best thing that's working for me. I used to put the important to-look-at papers in a pile and put them in a briefcase, but this "out of sight, out of mind" concept is deadly. I tried putting it in a "to-do" folder and stacking on my desk, but then I would forget to check the folder. In fact, short of putting balloons on the folder, I would completely miss it when I sat down to do work. The folder sort of became part of the background. The bulletin board may be messy in appearance, but it allows me to see it every day as I pass in and out of the kitchen; it's in my face reminding me that I have to take care of it.

The only downside to the bulletin board method is that I'm on backlog in my paper piles; there's only so much space on the board before overcrowding occurs. If I take the time to lift up papers and look underneath, I can see what needs to be done...but this is dangerous as I could easily miss something! As this would be disastrous, I am limiting the amount that goes on the bulletin board. The remaining items sit in a bin under the table. I will try and take care of them before the end of the weekend.

I absolutely despise bins of stuff to have to go through; my only comfort is that the less of a pack rat that I become, the less likely I will have mini-piles collecting. As the Becoming Minimalist blogger states, "clutter becomes clutter." My words were similar as I carried the yet another laundry basket from the car for the third time this week. The basket was filled with empty soda bottles, silverware, dirty glasses, misc. paper from everywhere, food wrappers, dirty discarded clothing, children books, used straws, trash, pens, paper, misc. shoes...the list goes on and on. Finally, on my 3rd day in a row cleaning out the car, I told my hubby that clutter breeds clutter.

So the lesson learned here is...

Mail coming in = bad if left about at bit. Best to ATTACK immediately and discard any unnecessary items.

Keep mail that's important "to-do" out in plain view.

Take care of any bills right away!

Accept that it's never going to be perfect-if you need to stash something in a bin to take care of at a later time, it's okay. Just don't put it too far away to forget about it!!

Clutter breeds clutter!

Good luck! It will be painful to slowly convert to someone who's not a pack rat, but it can be done. I'm living proof...or should I say, my family is living proof!

What defines a picture book?

2009-09-30T16:48:00.004-04:00

I blog. I can't get away from this newly found habit. I suppose it's like owning a car. I could pretend that this modern mode of transportation will only be used in emergency situations, but then I end up using it more and more on a daily basis. I suppose that to an extent, it's a great outlet for a writer to express obscure viewpoints.

For example, I stumbled upon Mark Fearing's website. I have no idea who this person is as I really didn't bother to research into him. I don't have the time right now. Between having a moment of peace from having my son do somersaults on my bed and my other two "kids" off at soccer practice, I really should be working on my submission for the upcoming SCBWI conference.

I was working on it, but became concerned that I might be putting too much into my first story of my new series. I know that picture books are limited in how many words should be used; I couldn't remember what the recommend amount of words were; I wasn't about to start counting Marc Brown's Arthur or pull out a Stephen Kellogg's book and count words! So what's the second best way to find information? The internet, of course...granted, depending on what source I use.

Maybe Mark Fearing knows what he's talking about...maybe not, but by the time I got to the bottom of his blog account, I just couldn't resist making a comment! After all, this is my conclusion as to why blogs are so popular. It gives the ordinary reader, like me, to make a comment. Traditionally, we had to write to our paper's editor and pray that our letter was published when we made a comment about a recent article. Now we can skip this step and for the most part, make a comment directly to the writer; most of the time our comments are uncensored.

You can skip reading my comment if you are already bored. Besides, I have to go around the house and repair the damages my son has caused since the last time I stopped writing; we had Molly Maids come and clean this week as I'm a terrible housekeeper while I battle morning sickness. Granted, ten minutes after they leave, my small tornado called "son" goes about and rearranges everything. Fortunately, he's not able to drag in the pound of dirt they clean up...not right away at least. Give him a few minutes and maybe he can. He's like any one of the boys in Family Circus...or that guy in Charlie Brown that's a dust tornado. Ah, I love him so!

Here's my comment to dear Mark Fearing. He seems to have quite a few websites going at the same time. Maybe he has ADD. Cool!

"Do you have children? I'm a parent and a writer; I see both sides. There's a bit more mix between books, television shows, and video games, but most educated parents are still relying heavily on books to educate and entertain their children. I agree with your blog that it's an ever changing world in regards to picture books. Twenty years ago when I first began researching the market, picture books were classified as having few words and relied mainly on the pictures telling the stories. And yet, there were books that didn't fit this typical classification such as the Berenstain Bears and Marc Brown's classic Arthur books. Nowadays bookstores are piled high with 'picture books' that are cluttered with gimmicks such as stickers, puzzles, and stuffed animals. As an illustrator and writer, I have to see this mix media as a blessing; it actually opens our world up rather than creating a black hole. There are many new opportunities to reach children."

Preparing Manuscript for First SCBWI Conference

2009-09-26T22:59:00.005-04:00

Recently I went to the dentist. Ah, the dentist. It's a love hate relationship. I despise having to go as I know there will be a cavity found, a bit of nasty tasting numbing gel, a shot that will hurt, a bit of vibrating drilling, and some other horrible gross stuff that goes along with it.

My new dentist, Dr. Attia, is awesome.
Yes, I just said that. Me, the woman who nearly has a phobia about going to the dentist.
My new dentist, Dr. Attia, has amazing bedside manners, is very quiet and gentle...and patient. And no, he doesn't know of this blog (yet, as he still has part 2 to do for my teeth).
As much as I hate going to the dentist, I know that with Dr. Attia and his wonderful assistant who held my hand, I managed to have 3 crowns, 1 possible root canal, and 3 cavities fixed.

What does this have to do with the original idea for this blog? I had said I wasn't going to be the typical blogger who rambles on about random subjects, yet it seems that here again I am rambling.

I'm not rambling.

I'm just trying to decide which is the scarier date in my calendar:
See there's this part of me that no one but the very closest of my family knows about...
I'm a Laura Ingalls fan. A Stephen Kellogg fan. A Marc Brown fan. The list goes on and on.

I dream of becoming a children's writer. A great children's writer.
I've done the research. Mrs. Rein, my high school librarian told me to do this. I'm celebrating my 20th anniversary in researching the market.
I've read about techniques, both in writing stories and sending queries or making websites.
For over 20 years, I have written children stories.
And yet, I've only sent out two stories.
Why?
For one, I am quite the perfectionist. I edit my stories more than I probably should.
And...I'm not sure what number two is. I mean, I know where I can send them to...but I hold onto them, probably because of #1.
Well, no more. It's time to break out of my shell. There are a lot of "1sts" for this year of life. I won't bore anyone to tears going over the list, but I'm about to embark on one of them! I'm going to attend my first SCBWI regional conference in Northern Virginia and submit my manuscript that I have been working on for the last year for review.
What's the worst that can happen?
Die because I made a spelling error? A wrong choice in punctuation? Too shallow in character? Too dry in plot? Too wordy? Too much dialogue? Not enough action? Augh!!!!! I think that maybe all this research about how to write a good children's story is sometimes my stumbling block. I've made a perfectionist speed bump for me to hit every time. This speed bump has a name, of course.
"Me."
Still, I'm going to be okay because I've already told my family I'm doing this, made dinner plans with the family (& friends), so I'm not going to back out with all these questions. In fact, I even made the joke that I couldn't give the dog water because I couldn't leave my multi-million dollar manuscript for a moment, that Warner Brothers was pounding on my door. Did I believe myself for a second? Well, I guess I did even though I did get up and give Rory water (and tell her I love her more than Daddy does--he's been telling her all night that I want to make her into glue! He should talk; I'm the vegetarian in the family! How do we really know that hamburger meat is made out of cow and not dog??)

I think I'm a great writer.
I know I'm a great writer.
I'm actually terribly vain about the whole thing.
Or am I?
I just think I was born in the wrong time period.
I live in a day of bloggers, of people who have too much to say about everything and sometimes it clutters my mind, thinking about how many readers there are versus writers. I believe it's probably 1 to 5, readers being in the minority.
Granted, I'm writing for children...but just as my research has shown me, I'm not, really.
I'm writing for the editor who reads my manuscript.
I'm writing for the publisher who wants to see the bottom line.
I'm writing for the research group who wants to see a new fiction artist.
And ultimately, I hope to write for the child.
Hopefully, I didn't lose that part of my talent while I got all wrapped up in research.

November is the conference.
Oct. 18th is the deadline for the registration.
And Sept. 30th is the deadline for the manuscript.
I hear a clock ticking in the background. It's an imaginary clock but I hear it nevertheless.
I'm not sure which is more scary...
The Sept. 30th deadline for the manuscript or that terrible part two of my dentist trip on Oct. 6th where I have to get all numbed up again so Dr. Attia can drill away; his assistant will hold my hand, a lifeline to safety.
Which is worse? Criticism from experts in the field of publishing or a few shots in the mouth? Maybe I'll go for the later and continue to pretend that my stories are great rather than face the voice of experts!

Did I mention that when I'm nervous I get nauseous? Butterflies with elephant feet flip in my stomach!

Morgan House Hotel in Kingston, Jamaica

2009-06-25T15:05:00.007-04:00

I know in my last blog I was trying to not be a random-subject blogger, talking about random things that occur in my life and dissect them with the supposed wisdom I've collected from numerous interactions with other persons and experiences...something that I find quite exciting, where everyone seems to have something to say about everything...so amazing, but slightly overwhelming. Having said this, I couldn't resist sharing this little bit. There was so much more to my vacation....I will get "busy" and stay true to the course that I plan for this blog to be...about my children stories that I work on...but I just thought this itsy-bitsy little experience was worth writing down.

Our family just returned from a trip to Jamaica. It was our first time there and we had a wonderful experience. I wish I could spend time going over all the details, but I can't. I really must run...but as I shared with my sister, the un-American part about the whole trip was one of the best things about the trip.

For example, while we were in Kingston waiting for our next plane to arrive (12 hours later), we stayed at the Morgan House Hotel. It was about 3 miles from the airport and had a vacancy, hence why we chose it. The driver who picked us up had the biggest smile...I forgot his name (sorry), but he was truly warm...not just being polite (or am I naive?). Since we stayed at the hotel for both layovers, we had a different driver on the return trip. Winston was his name and he was very kind to show us Port Royal, the richest and most wickedest town in Jamaica...in the early century. Now it's a little ghost town.

Our hotel was situated inside of Port Royal's...something...related to the old British Naval Fort...it was very clean, had beautiful landscaping, and had a wonderful lobby with decorations on the walls illustrating how Jamaica used to be. I should probably dig up a lot of great facts about Port Royal but I'm not going to. It's not that I don't want to...it's that I have to unpack my suitcase so I can pack it for Arizona...a different climate all-together.

So why was the hotel un-American? The water pressure was very low with no explanation in advance from the management; I personally have never spent a night in a hotel in the United States that didn't have warm water. The 2nd time we arrived to the hotel, on our last leg home, we had one towel to share. I was too tired to ask for another one for our family of four. So it was only Gabi that took a bath. He's, after all, the closest to the ground, and therefore, probably obtains 1/4 more dirt than the rest of us. The stifling heat was slightly decreased by the new but inefficient air conditioning. The large gap between the two doors that led to the open area by the bay probably helped what air conditioning was in the room...escape. No one thought of adding weather-stripping. The cable and wi-fi that were promised in the brochure didn't work. Little details were skipped all together and the wake-up call that we didn't get because it was logged into the wrong day was the funniest!

These were things that I felt made this hotel un-American. I'm sure I will have people that will tell me they've stayed in hotels with such qualities as this in the United States and I don't mean to upset anyone over the description of what I stayed in. As I said before, this is what made the hotel charming! I absolutely loved Jamaica and can see why all the Jamaican-American's I have met tell me they are Jamaicans first...why it must be very difficult to leave this beautiful and very new country (42 years and counting). I loved the history, the culture, the food, the people...I loved the untamed wilderness and pray that this country doesn't become a concrete island like Puerto Rico. I know I was only in one part of the town for a small amount of time, but I fell in love. Granted, I haven't lived there...so I know that visiting a place is different than living there...but I'm glad to have been able to see Jamaica rather than read it in a book or see pictures online.

I still think it's a lovely hotel

Unblogging

2009-04-30T22:03:00.005-04:00

I must admit, my English teacher in high school 15 years ago probably couldn't imagine that the world would become overwhelmingly wordy! Everyone seems to have something to say about everything. I feel like we live in one big vacuum, one big black hole. When I researched homeschooling, I found there were 'unschoolers' so maybe now that the world is clogged with so many 'bloggers' I should become an 'unblogger'.

I must admit, the most important word that could describe me, when writing, is "cautious". I don't think that this would ever be needed, but it's crazy to think what could be blogged today possibly could "follow" one into the future. I'm appalled by how some people write their dirty laundry about their kids troubles or their crazy marriages or their little secrets all over the web.

Hence, I sat, looking at the white pages of this "blog" site and wondered what I could be passionate about. After all, I have many interests.

I knew the list was long.

recycling, long before it was "popular"
children rights
art
family
food (& nutrition)
religion
endangered animals
inequality in education, economics, social issues
women rights
and the list goes on and on...

But, just as I mentioned above, there are millions of "bloggers" and millions of "readers of bloggers". I didn't want to join the masses of spouting my opinions about (although I do have friends who say I don't mind showing my opinions on my shirts!).

I received several notices last week that said family members had added me to their twitter list. This was very exciting and created pressure at the same time. Now I was expected to produce!

Produce!

Sorry...still waiting for production.

I would probably produce something, but my week has been so busy there's not a bit of anything left.

That's ok. Someone else in this world is blogging about their 'stressful crazy unpacking storage dealing with kids while husband is on trip' so it's all covered somewhere in this world.

Just insert "phew!" and "then I..." and "Mari thought..." and "Gabi yelled..." and "cat hair" and "I just knew then that..." and "the dog looked at me" into those blogs and that about covers my life!

I mean, considering the alternative that I could bore everyone to sleep with all the really amazing happenings that go on in my life, like a journal of things that go on, I think inserting words into other people's blogs and pretending that they are mine seem like such a better option.

After all, if I spend all my time blogging about how cool my parents were coming to stay for a few days and it ended being a whole month helping me unpack and set up house, then I wouldn't have any time working on that novel I blogged about before! I wonder when do people have time to read to their kids, volunteer at their kids schools, and make home-made meals if their time is spent blogging about how they were planning to read to their kids, working on figuring out when to volunteer and why, or how, and what recipes sound good to make for a home-made meal?

Sometimes, the grass is greener on this side.

Sometimes, it's better to be on your own rather than following or leading.

Sometimes, it's good to be an un-blogger.

I wonder. Did I just come up with this on my own or are there others out there like me un-blogging?

Novelist Who Never Was...Part 2

2009-03-15T04:21:00.002-04:00

This can all be terribly confusing, finding my way through a novel's story. Tonight I was able to complete another section, but I was torn...how can a novel wander away from it's original direction? I now have several volunteers who would like to edit my novel, but I'm afraid to let go and let them have a stab at it. Afraid...because I'm not sure if I'm even out of the first chapter...what if my main character really is just floundering about, thinking she's going about her business when CRASH, I change her life. Oh, the power I have...the poor character will never know what's going to happen to her in just a few short paragraphs. It almost makes me want to go back and change things...but then the whole book would be different.

I'd say, pray for her, but then again, she's just a fictional character.

On another note, I've met this person who's really perplexing. The individual must be a split personality. Some days...nice and friendly, other days...I'm thinking, what's up with being so anti social? So then I'm distant...and BAM, the friendliness returns. WEIRD! So maybe I'm going to have to put this individual somewhere in my novel....

Novelist Who Never Was....Part 1

2009-03-05T00:04:00.003-05:00

I planned on spending some time working on my novel tonight, but instead, I finally succumbed to a little bit of Jack Daniel coolers...and studied where I'm going to go hang out with Hubby when he comes home from a long business trip. Then I did a bunch of other really boring grown-up things.

But, really, this blog is going to be for my novel. I think I'm suppose to talk about me (you need sleep, then read on!). Or about my life (skip that sleeping pill, and read on!). Or about how awesome I am in the world of publishing (get bucket, here comes your lunch). Or maybe...how you want to invest in me because I'm so cool and witty.

Well, ha ha.

I'm not a blogger who will make your brain bleed from your ears and nose while I talk in minute detail about how I got lost on my way to the laundry mat and had food poisoning at the Chinese resturant. If you want that, just go check out everyone else's blog. That's something that's being written about every day.

Instead, I'll spend your time reading about how I drank a few coolers, watched a movie with my kid, and dreamt about far away excursions with my family (childcare included!!)

The Secret Life of Me

2009-03-03T09:19:00.004-05:00

I'm sorry. There's a lot of people that I know. And they all know just fragments of me. I'm sorry that I live this life as it reminds me of the days I was in high school where I had friends that...

were druggies.
were nerds.
were actors.
were musicians.
were teacher pets.
were wanna-be...um, well, boyfriend pillows or punching bags.
were goth crazy.

And the list goes on.

And I just sat back. And was friends with individuals from each group. But not part of the group.

So bringing everyone together at the same place...well, you might just learn something new about me that you didn't know.

Or, didn't care to know.

Oh well.

Missing the Old blog

2008-07-30T04:10:00.003-04:00

If you want to catch a glimpse of what my old blog looked like, here it is. I've contemplated re-opening it, but it costs money. What I need to do is print out that picture to remember that it was only 3 years ago that Gabi was born...and he and Mari didn't do as much together as they do now!

http://micasaloca.typepad.com/about.html