Incurable Insomniac

What's Your Blues Name?

2012-01-25T13:11:00.002-06:00

Mine is "Blind Boy Bailey".

Two More of My Weird-Assed Dreams

2012-01-21T17:22:00.001-06:00

Dream #1-Friday: I was in New York City, dressed in black velvet and a big, droopy hat. I was sitting in a little cafe in the Village, listening to some cat at my table going on about how he touches fire -- I think he was Jack Kerouac. I took a sip of wine and looked out the window at the city and thought, "I could live here." Kerouac continued talking, his words becoming a pleasant drone that lulled me into a state of deep contentment. A guy at the table with us dealt some cards and asked me to breathe on them. I did, and I woke up.

This one turned out to be prophetic. The "touching fire" was the pain I've been in. The cards represented the "hand I've been dealt" concerning that pain. The breathing on them was my ability to breathe after receiving pain meds later that day.

Dream #2-Today: I was at Frank Sinatra's house and he was getting ready for a party. I and some other people were in a smaller room, like a den, and I was showing off, singing The Lady is a Tramp, really vamping it up, dancing a humorous bump-and-grind, and everyone was laughing. When it was over I fell back on the floor, laughing so hard, covering my eyes with my hands. Suddenly everyone stopped laughing and I looked up to see Milton Berle smiling down at me.

"Oops," I said, and he held his hand out to help me up off of the floor.
"Not bad," he said. "Did you ever think about getting on television?"
I rubbed my butt and replied, "Yeah, but it burned my ass."
He burst out laughing and I woke up.

The dancing represents my new pain-free condition due to the meds. The laughter is my happiness about that. Easy-peasy.

Get Back

2012-01-21T11:54:00.001-06:00

Fifteen years ago, in California, I went to my doctor about some low back pain that had begun to bother me. It wasn't extreme pain, but enough that I thought it warranted a visit. He took some x-rays. When he brought them into the examination room to discuss (imagine that! No radiologist, no separate visit, no waiting for results!), he said, "I have news that I hate having to tell anyone who's so young." (I was in my 40s back then.) He showed me where two discs had begun to deteriorate, and a large, hook-like bone spur on one vertebra. "This is Degenerative Disc Disease," he explained, "and I'm afraid it's not going to get any better. In fact, you could be in a wheelchair by the time you're 60 if it's not taken care of."

Of course I didn't like hearing this, so I asked him what I could do to slow it down. He showed me some gentle stretching exercises and gave me a prescription for an anti-inflammatory. Within a week I began to feel better and that progressed for about three months when it stopped working altogether. Around that same time, I moved back to Denver and lost my health insurance, but I was able to manage the pain a bit with over-the-counter meds.

Within a year, however, in 2001, it came back with a vengeance, sometimes landing me in bed for a week. It was excruciating; I couldn't stand for very long, or sit at the dinner table for more than thirty minutes. I couldn't sit on a bar stool! I'd moved here to Stillwater by then, so I went to my new doctor as a self-pay patient. She confirmed my previous doctor's diagnosis and told me to use hot and cold packs. That's it. Nothing else. Not having medical insurance and no money for "luxuries" like doctor visits, I dealt with the pain with OTCs, and all kinds of smelly lotions and oils that Nettl massaged into my back. Not to mention my ongoing struggle with Hashimoto's Disease and fibromyalgia.

Years passed and the pain slowly got worse. Over the past year it became intolerable and I've spent most of my daily life sitting on my bed, looking out the bay windows at a world I used to be a part of. I became a semi-invalid. Finally, I went to my doctor a few months ago and she said that unless I got x-rays, she couldn't really treat me. Fair enough, but I couldn't afford x-rays. She gave me a prescription for some pain relievers, but only enough to get me through the first half of every month; the second half was misery. I dealt with it though, as I had been, until Nettl could no longer take seeing me in so much pain. She vented about it in Fb one day and one of the authors we do work for (and who also has the same back issues that I have) sent us a check to cover the cost of x-rays. I had them done on Thursday.

Yesterday I got a phone call from my doctor's nurse, who told me that I have Degenerative Spine Disease and that I need surgery. "HA! Right!" thought I. "Where do you think I live? In Mexico?" (In Mexico, the yearly, all-inclusive premium for excellent health care is a whopping $250!) She then told me that they'd called some prescriptions in to my pharmacy and we went to pick them up. Pain relievers AND anti-inflammatories. Real relief at last!

I have now started the process of applying for Disability and early Medicare, which a friend of ours who is a professional Social Security advocate says I can get right away. She is so certain of this that she has taken on my case gratis.

So sometime soon I'll be having back surgery, and I welcome it! Fifteen years is too long for anyone to have to live with chronic pain. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

Needless to say, we're dancing for joy around here. Well, I'm not dancing, but you know what I mean. Still, the meds I'm on have already started to work and I feel human again. Get Back to where you once belonged, indeed!

Art by Sam Carter

Peace, At Last

2012-01-20T10:57:00.001-06:00

I never paid any attention to Etta James until one summer night in Kansas many years ago during a long trip I made in my VW van. I met a guy who collected records--LPs--vinyl, mostly the blues. I loved this song so much, I asked him to copy it onto a cassette for me. It was nearly all I listened to all the way back home to California.

Thank you, Ms. James, for all you gave us.

Just Wow!

2012-01-18T15:03:00.002-06:00

Here's a video of our own Bob S-K's group, Avante. They're fabulous! Bob is the author of three books, numerous articles, and a blog called Neither Clever Nor Witty. Worth mentioning is the fact that the photos used in the video are the only ones I've ever seen in which Bob isn't mugging for the camera. Until today, I'd never seen what he actually looks like--and we've been blog buddies for ten years!

No Way...

2012-01-18T02:16:00.001-06:00

Every now and again I just have to post stuff like this because it's just so freakin' unbelievable.

I know. Sometimes I'm only about 14 years old. But one of the best things about getting older is that people expect it of me!

The Essence of Yo

2012-01-11T11:56:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time, back in the '80s, I amassed a collection of yoyos. I remember how it started, too. I was working as Masetro Salazar's assistant with the Ventura County Symphony at the time and one night at a Nutcracker rehearsal, the guy who played the bass clarinet pulled one out and began using it. It was like a meditation. Beautiful, fluid, calming. He didn't do a lot of tricks, or show off, he just... yo'ed. I enjoyed watching him so much, he gave me that yoyo. We were, all of us, sitting in the orchestra pit and things can get kind of chummy down there.

I was composing a lot of classical music in those days and I found that yoyo to be quite helpful when I got stuck on a passage and needed to unleash my subconscious a bit. I'd get up from the piano, pull out the yoyo, and walk around my music room while sending the gliding object into the relentless force of gravity. It was indeed meditative.

That BC Rainbow up there was the model the clarinetist gave me and, although through the next decade I collected many different styles, it remained my favorite, probably because it was made of inlaid wood rather than plastic. It felt good in the hand. Solid, smooth, natural, warm. You could feel the little stripes of color.

Later, maybe two years, I saw the Smothers Brothers in concert and Tommy did a segment by himself as The Yoyo Man. He talked about the Essence of Yo and I learned that a lot of people use these toys for meditation. And Tommy Smothers made it fun, too.

Later, in 1997, I moved into my 1914 penthouse in Ventura and met a guy who lived in the building across the alley. We became quite good neighbors. I comforted him when someone poisoned his cat and he helped me open a bottle of wine. He climbed into my utility room window when I'd locked my keys in the house and I introduced him to the girl downstairs. He was much younger than I, and a surfer. Very spiritual, very sweet, and he could yoyo like a devil. I found out only much later that he was Tommy Smothers, Jr. He never said anything about it, except when he was opening the wine bottle for me. When I thanked him he said, "It's cool. I've opened a few bottles, my family is into wine." Indeed.

Of course, my collection of yoyos got lost in The Big Dump of 2001. I haven't thought about them much--I lost things of much greater sentimental value, after all: family pictures, all of my musical instruments, every single musical score I ever composed, thousands of LPs, family heirlooms, my dad's ashes... Yoyos just didn't count. But now I'm thinking that I'd like to start a new collection, and I will begin with a BC Rainbow. It may take a little while because money's tight and there are more important things, like food, but this is where I'll begin. I'm sure I can locate one online somewhere.

I could use a little Essence of Yo in my life!

Streamline and Drag

2012-01-10T17:21:00.001-06:00

Many years ago (twenty-four, to be precise) Maestro Frank Salazar taught me a lesson. Well, the six years that he mentored me were stuffed with lessons, but I can only handle them one-at-a-time these days.

When I first met him in 1986, his house was kind of tired looking. The house itself was fabulous, perched high on the Ventura riviera overlooking the Pacific Ocean, but the interior hadn't been decorated since the 1970s. Green and yellow shag carpeting, sagging open-weave drapes, some lackluster color on the walls, heavy art. It was shocking. I think I worked there him only a handful of times before it changed.

One afternoon I showed up as I always did when he called me to work, and I hardly recognized the rooms I walked into. The carpet had been pulled up to reveal beautiful hardwood floors, the drapes had been taken down to reveal a gorgeous wall of glass beyond which lay an outdoor, enclosed patio full of mature plants, flowering vines, and a slate walkway. The walls had been painted a soft white and "down" lights had been installed to spotlight lighter pieces of his extensive art collection. In the center of the room sat a tan, suede sofa and a heavy glass coffee table, two sleek leather chairs whose wood arms had been polished until they felt like peach skin, and beneath this lay a thick Persian rug. Here's a picture of his son Phil's bluegrass band jamming there. Doesn't do it much justice. Sorry. That's Phil, playing fiddle.

Anyway, when I commented on the changes, Frank said to me, "When you get my age, you want to streamline everything. Material and mental things begin to drag you down and you feel the compulsion to lighten up." Frank was then the age that I am now. Yeah, I know. It twists my brain, too.

Since the turn of the new year I've started having urges to streamline. Cut the fat. Chop the deadwood. Defrag the old hard drive. Whatever you want to call it. And I've already begun. Some things that were sentimental for me for decades have lost their hold on me. That antique "brothel" lamp, certain wall pictures and chotchkies, even my beloved monster speakers that have traveled with me since 1974. If we move to England--or wherever--I'll have no trouble letting go of a lot of stuff that only a few years ago were so very necessary to my happiness.

With me, it starts in the mind. I need to declutter there first, so I made a huge decision and decided to change Alla Breve Design to just Alla Breve Books. Last year I merged them, but this year one of them has to go, and web design, after all, isn't my first, or even second, love. I spent today revamping the website. This decision has been a huge relief, but the greatest satisfaction came when, on my computer, I zipped up all of my client website files and moved them to storage. Ahhh! My computer felt better for it too!

Last year I took on a number of blogs, both for myself and other people, and some of those are being cut as well. I just don't have the time or the motivation to keep diversifying my energies--I'm streamlining them.

Vacation's Over, Where Did I Put My Hats?

2012-01-08T18:20:00.001-06:00

Every year, right after Thanksgiving, I take time off from writing, editing, publishing and marketing. I chug so hard during the year that I feel absolutely no guilt about taking five to six weeks off for my family, friends, and myself for the holidays. But 2011's vacation is over and I must get back to donning my multiple hats. Not that Thanksgiving through Christmas is actually a vacation. Not around here, anyway.

My work will begin tonight. I always start on Sunday night, rather than Monday morning. I don't know why. Tonight I begin interviewing my trilogy characters -- those who have survived Books One and Two and have found their way to Book Three. They each must reach, confront and come to terms with something in themselves that has been building since the opening chapter of the first book. I will spend exactly one week with each of them finding out all of these issues. Of course, I know what these are, but I need to get beneath their skins and ask them some tough questions. There will be surprises. I already know that, because Gordon laid a bombshell on me right before the holidays that made me want to get away from the story for a while. No spoilers. Sorry.

So this is how I will spend my late nights. My regular six-hour workdays will be consumed with finishing the editing of the Russian novel so that the author can get busy with his rewrites. That'll keep him busy for a good long time, during which I intend to fling myself headlong into writing Book Three. Not to worry, I have made a promise to myself to write a blog entry at least twice a week; I am appalled by how lax I was last year.

Armchair Circumnavigator: Stranded at Sea!

2012-01-03T20:39:00.001-06:00

When I'm especially tired following a couple of months of steady merry-making--like now--I like to play hidden object pc games. I've played a ton of them over the last couple of years. I don't like those whose theme is vampires, ghosts, werewolves, Jack the Ripper, or other murder-and-mayhem, fearmongering subjects, but I also don't like the cutesy fairy tale kind that are geared for pre-teen girls. The kind that I like have to have beautiful graphics, nice music (doesn't have to be mind-melting, I do like some soundtracks that are more intense, too), and a reasonable story line. Mostly, I just like to disappear into the game's world and imagine that I'm actually there. That's what has brought me to this post.

Yesterday, I finished playing Escape the Emerald Star. Not a stellar game, mind you, but I was too fatigued for one with difficult puzzles and hard-to-discern shapes and colors. The story is simple: I'm on a liner like RMS Queen Mary I, crossing the Atlantic Ocean. One morning I wake up to find that all of the passengers and crew have mysteriously vanished. I have to somehow escape. But as I played I began thinking. What if I don't want to escape? For one thing, I can't lower a lifeboat by myself, and even if I can somehow manage it, do I want to leave the ship only to float adrift with nothing but storms, sharks, exposure, thirst, and starvation to greet me? No way! I'm staying with the damn ship! That got my survival instincts into an uproar as I began to problem-solve the situation. In my head, of course. This is imagination after all. Here's what I came up with:

First things first. Find the main deck and start calling out on the ship's P.A. system to find out if there's anyone else aboard. There isn't.
Find the radio room and start sending out an SOS. Remember, this is a ship built in the 1920s, so there's no satellite communication and no auto-navigation system. This is where I added a hitch to the scenario: I can't contact anyone and no one is going to ever find me.

Okay, so here I am all alone on a ship that was designed and built to hold over 5000 people, including the crew. Here's what I do:

Go to the restaurant galleys and move as much of the perishable food that I can to the freezers as quickly as possible.
Start bottling water.
Learn where the medical facilities are. I already know where the library is, silly.
Clear out some of the potted plants on the pool deck and use the planters to grow root vegetables: carrots, onions, potatoes, etc. As I eat fruit and other vegetables, I'll use some of those seeds and preserve the rest for future crops.
Reclaim grey water for the plants.

I think I can live a pretty secure life in this way. The real challenge is electricity and heat. The QMI's energy was created by diesel engines, so fuel isn't endless. Besides, little me just can't manage the engine room by myself. I think I'll read up on how to make my little area solar and wind powered. By now, I've moved into the Royal Suite, of course.

In the game there are a bunch of cats and a couple of dogs on board, so I have some company, and their food is most likely all in cans anyway, so their food situation is fine. There's always storms to consider, but living in Oklahoma for 11 years has taught me to be rather philosophical about surviving scary weather: if it's my time, it's my time.

So I'm putting it to you. Am I on track here, or am I doomed to die within months? Hey, at least I have access to all those musical instruments, books, movies, and bars! What would you do if this happened to you? No radio, no rescue ships, no nothing. The purpose of this isn't to plot an escape, but to discuss how long someone could survive. And, yes. I know that eventually the ship would run aground, but not in my scenario.

2011's Personal Best & Worst

2012-01-01T15:22:00.000-06:00

Best Party: There've been so many this year! The best though? The wine party we threw for Micah and Allen.
Worst Party: Is there such a thing around here? No way!

Best Casual Get-Together: One night when Allen dropped by and we all sat around the kitchen talking and laughing.
Worst Casual Get-Together: There's no such thing.

Best Dinner: Boxing Day.
Worst Dinner: A horrible thing I made from odds and ends in the pantry when we couldn't afford to buy food. Ugh.

Best News: That Nettl was getting to go to Bordeaux to see Lauren.
Worst News: The death of my lifelong friend, Deni.

Best Reaction: Holding up to the news of Deni's death while alone (Nettl was in France).
Worst Reaction: Writing a Facebook status about being hungry and having no food. I deleted it rather quickly though when I realized how pathetic I sounded.

Best Creative Endeavor: Finishing Book Two of my trilogy. What a labor of love that was!
Worst Creative Endeavor: All of those scenes that had to be cut from Book Two.

Best Physical Feat: Getting through Christmas!
Worst Physical Feat: Raking a mountain of leaves and killing my back.

Best Laugh: The Jiz & Whiz. 'Nuff said. Ask Ville.
Worst Cry: Tired of my family being hungry. It was a cry of feeling futile and helpless.

Best Blog Entry: Things I've Learned From Being Broke. Insight. And it even got printed in the local paper as the Sunday editorial!
Worst Blog Entry: You See, I Just Don't Care. A whiny piece of tripe.

Best Picture: (Boxing Day)

Worst Picture: (Wine party -- I have no pride...)

Happy New Year, everyone!

Close Enough

2011-12-30T13:43:00.002-06:00

The Best Christmas Ever

2011-12-27T09:40:00.002-06:00

Christmases have been kind of hard for me since every single member of the large, close, happy Waller clan passed on or left for parts unknown. I'm all about kith and kin and for the past couple of decades I've spent the holidays feeling terribly "family sick". There's just something that felt great about spending Christmas with people whose DNA I shared. After I met Nettl it got even harder because her immediate family tends to look at me as a nice but unredeemable antichrist, them being die-in-the-wool Southern Baptists and I being their once-preacher's-wife daughter's same sex partner and all. We spent our first decade together celebrating the holidays within our own blended family: Nettl, myself, and our five kids who are now all grown up and out of the nest.

Since last year, however, I've been able to feel the warmth of a clan again thanks to Nettl's extended family. Last year, they came from Tulsa and Dallas on Boxing day and we had so much fun, they did it again this year. They came in two cars and a motorcycle; together, we numbered twelve. I made that huge Mexican meal and we sat around talking and laughing--it was so much like the Waller clan--and really enjoying the stuffing out of each other. Then Kevin took me out for a ride on his motorcycle. All of the Christmas holiday was fantastic, but yesterday was the best ever. Little Bookends Cottage fairly reverberated with warmth, laughter, and love. I love my new family!

At Last, a Full Family Photo

2011-12-26T09:09:00.003-06:00

Lauren, Joel, Bryan (Heather's boyfriend), Nathan (home on leave!), Lynette,

Micah, Heather, me.

Happy Christmas!

2011-12-24T13:37:00.000-06:00

Almost California

2011-12-21T11:08:00.001-06:00

This was our house two Christmas Eves ago. This year it looks more like California out there: sparkling blue sky, birds singing... At least we had weather (rain) the last two days while I was shopping.

Had a great time with Ville yesterday. I've never met anyone with such a talent for finding great buys at tag sales. It's deliriously ridiculous how little I spent on so many great gifts. That girl is a genius. After we'd shopped and laughed ourselves into exhaustion, we went to New China for a late lunch/early dinner, then home. It was the best day.

Today I start my baking. I need to make a list of what I have to cook when, though, because that's about all I'll be doing between now and Boxing Day. Oh, and I still have stocking stuffers to get.

This is the happiest Christmas I've had since I was a child; I really believe that. I'm not bragging. I know how hard it is for far too many people these days. I know first hand, as a matter of fact, so I'm merely sharing my joy in hope that some of you will be encouraged by knowing that it can get better, and will! Last year was the absolute worse for us, but this year everything's different. I'm send you all of my warmest and most positive thoughts!

If I don't write another entry before Sunday, have a very Happy Holiday!

Boxing Day at Bookends Cottage

2011-12-16T11:23:00.000-06:00

This year, while Nettl plans her Christmas dinner (traditionally, she makes the three major holiday meals because I do the "every day" cooking throughout the year), I'm working on my menu for Boxing Day. People in the States aren't blessed with this December 26 day of friends and food -- most poor suckers are back in their cubicles at work -- but I was introduced to it when I lived in England in the way back when, and I liked it so much, I brought it home with me.

Our new tradition is that Nettl's cousins and other non-immediate family members come to see us on Boxing Day. Some of them drive up to Tulsa from Dallas to spend Christmas with their families, and they all come over here the following day. Last year we went out to eat at Mexico Joes's and we all were disappointed, especially those of Hispanic descent. Well, I can make better Mexican food than that place, so I've decided to do just that. Now, I know this menu isn't even remotely traditional, but when the Universe can manage to get me to that manor house in England, I'll be more than happy to do it the their way. Until then, bite me.

Because I'm a native Californian, my recipes will be slightly different from what our Tex-Mex relations are used to. I'm sure they'll like it anyway. Inasmuch as California was part of Mexico until 1850, this is all part of my heritage, too, gringa that I am.

Pozole de Camarón. Mmmm... a pot of spicy soup consisting of shrimp and hominy, surrounded by bowls of cheese, sour cream, tortilla strips, shredded cabbage, sliced radishes, lime, avocado slices, and cilantro for toppings. Known in Mexico as the great hangover helper.

Tamales. I made these a couple of years ago and they're awesome. Stewed, seasoned, shredded porky goodness wrapped up in little bundles of masa-lined corn husks and steamed to perfection. They take a lot of work--two days--but they're really worth it. In southern California these are traditionally served on Christmas Eve, but I'm saving mine for Boxing Day this year.

Cheese Enchiladas. These are a staple around here, but they go far and are really inexpensive to make. When we have leftovers of any kind of enchiladas, that's all I eat. For days. Major yum!

Itchy Rice. Don't get the wrong idea, I gave this Mexican rice dish this name because the recipe was given to be by my Oxnard friend, Liz, whom I nicknamed Itchy back when we worked together. She comes from a large Mexican family (10 kids!), so she knows her rice! The secret to flaky, non-gummy rice? Use jasmine rice and sauté it in olive oil, stirring constantly, for at least 15 minutes. Gotta get all that starch off of it. Also, make it in a skillet, not a saucepan (use stock instead of water). Works every time.

Frijoles Refritos. Yes, I make them from "scratch". That monkey crap in the cans just doesn't even begin to compare.

Because everything on this menu except the rice takes a couple of days to make, I'll be in the kitchen on Christmas night. Doesn't bother me--I'm looking forward to it! I'm not worrying about making a dessert because the house will be full of sweet things to eat, but the buffet will include a fruit platter of fresh pineapple, oranges, pomegranates, star fruit, papaya, mangoes, and avocados.

So, what time are you dropping by?

A Very Important Day

2011-12-15T02:16:00.002-06:00

85 BPM

2011-12-14T12:46:00.000-06:00

Since Badger is inquiring after the state of my pulse, I thought I really should make another entry. I'm sorry I've been so remiss in posting lately. I'm just not sleeping well, the result of which is Thyroidzilla making my daytimes rather sluggish. Not sleeping soundly and comfortably play hell with the Hashimoto's and it has been years since I've had any consistently good sleep. And then, editing "War and Peace" takes out of me whatever little physical and mental energy I have left.

But other than that (and the OSU accounting department's decided talent for effing up the simplest of transactions) everything around here is just grand. We are full of the Christmas spirit and look forward to starting the holiday just as soon as the geniuses at OSU realize it shouldn't take three weeks to assign a new vendor number and put my check in the mail to me. It's due to arrive on the 20th. Gee, thanks for giving us a whole three days to do our Christmas food and gift shopping... But this is why I mailed the invoice the night after Thanksgiving; I knew they'd fucker up something. Boone Pickens can force hundreds of people from their homes under the Eminent Domain law and build a $165-million football stadium, but I can't seem to get a $1200 invoice paid in a timely manner. And it happens every.bleeding.time.

You see? This is why I haven't been posting.

But you know what? Something is about to change. I FEEL it. Can't explain it, but I feel it. I'll let you know.

Anyway, time to get my arse up and do something today. Pulse is fine, but it will be better as soon as I take my "up and at 'em" meds.

Thirty-One Years

2011-12-08T02:13:00.001-06:00

With your bravado and your pain, your merits and your faults, your voice and your silence, your ideals and your shortcomings, I miss you. I shall not canonize you, I shall only remember.

Chips and Doors

2011-12-07T12:56:00.001-06:00

Thanks to Mrs. Anke's blog entry today, this is what I'm craving, and is what I'm getting us for dinner tonight. Yum!

I'm sitting in the living room listening to our eclectic mix of holiday music, freezing. The heat's on, but it's bloody cold today and our front door leaks. It's an old house, you know, and I've put a rolled up blanket on the floor to block some of the cold air, but what I really need --and really want-- is one of these. Well, maybe not that ornate. Seems a bit over the top. A simple tapestry on a swinging rod would do just fine.

Anyway, not much to write today. Just got over a migraine. They're not lasting three days like they have for so many years; now they pass in about half the time and they're not as severe as they used to be. Anyway, that's it for me today.

No Snow, Yet

2011-12-05T09:36:00.001-06:00

I don't know why this year is different from any in the past ten years or so, but I got a big dose of Christmas Spirit fairly early on. It's not from the televised hype because we don't watch TV, and it's not from the radio stations that began their 24-hour Christmas playlist as soon as Halloween was over because I never really go anywhere. I think it was Thanksgiving that brought it on. We had such a perfect one this year, we could have made Norman Rockwell's famous painting look like a portrait of a dysfunctional, crack house family. Yeah, it was that good.

Over the weekend we decorated the cottage, with help from Dr. Scott, who's always up for a party. There was a 220-song Christmas playlist on the speakers (and I don't mean only that Burl Ives, Brenda Lee stuff, I mean good music, like Jethro Tull, Loreena McKennitt, Sting, and a lot of classical, too), food, mulled wine--all the usual stuff--and it felt like an extension of the previous holiday. Which bodes well for the rest of the season.

I even have my New Year's resolution sorted out. I never make those, but this year I feel a kind of jackboot behind my ass, ready to propel me anywhere I want to go. My resolution is simple: I want something to happen to me in 2012. I don't care if it's in my creative life, my emotional life, my intellectual, physical, or material life--I just want to make something wonderful happen. And I feel like I can do that.

We were expecting snow all last night. Up to 12 inches were predicted at first, but that number kept dwindling until, in the end, we got big piles of nothing. It's bloody cold, though, and windy. Nice day to stay indoors and edit.

Stay warm!

I Larfed

2011-12-02T09:23:00.001-06:00

This is what I woke up to this morning. Thanks, Nettl.

We Don't Need No Steenkin Humbuggery!

2011-12-01T10:24:00.001-06:00

On this day, December first, for the past decade, I have woken to a depression the sort of which could drive a less lighthearted person than myself to self-harm. This is no joke. We've been so broke that one year we could only buy each other (meaning the entire family) one thing from the Dollar Tree. On that year our Christmas meal was provided by gift cards that Nettl had received from co-workers. It was dismal and I seriously wanted to die. Last year, we had no money for Christmas until the mail arrived at 3:30 on Christmas Eve, and that was only $300. Talk about a mad scramble. It's no wonder my health has always taken a nose dive every December. With Hashimoto's disease being strongly triggered by adrenalin, good or bad, this stuff nearly kills me.

But this year is different. We seem to be slowly reaching the end of a long, terrifying chapter in our life as a family. I woke up this morning with food in the pantry, the rent and utilities paid, and a slowly increasing income. Oh, it's not huge, but we can go get a Christmas tree tomorrow afternoon (we borrowed an artificial tree from Ville and Beau last year, which was a real lifesaver. If not for them, we wouldn't have even had a tree), and presents will begin to appear beneath it over the next couple of weeks.

This is all too good -- and I'm still glowing from Thanksgiving! The humbuggery is over at last! Last night, while buying groceries, I even found myself singing along with the Christmas music.

We've learned huge lessons over the past decade. We've learned to tune out the holiday hype (not having cable has separated us from so much stress and propaganda, it's not even funny) and we've lost the drive to spend, spend, spend (not having credit cards has taught us that we don't need to go into debt over silly, extravagant gifts). We've learned to keep the holidays centered on being with the people we love, making music, sharing laughter, and all that good, old-fashioned, Home For the Holidays stuff. These have been very hard lessons -- devastating lessons, in fact -- but we've learned them.

Oh! Speaking of Home For the Holidays, Nathan will be here! I haven't said much about it, but he's been in the Army since last summer and we haven't seen him since he left. Needless to say, Nettl is fairly dancing on air over this. I can't think of a better gift: our boy home, safe and sound.

So today, instead of editing, I'll be putting together a Holiday playlist for our household music. We just never use our CDs anymore and I prefer music to be shuffled anyway. I'm going to start a shopping list for the holiday foods I want to make, and I'll be making my gift list and checking it twice. It would be perfect if we got snow sometime between now and the 25th, but I'm not going to complain if we don't!

The Write Space

2011-11-30T10:27:00.001-06:00

I want to start a new tab at the top of this page. The old "100 Things" has gotten, well, old.

As you may know, I'm fascinated with people's writing spaces, whether they write email, blog entries, or literary works. If you'd like to have your writing space on the new page, email a photo of it to me. This photo can include you in it, or not, and it can be of the entire space, or just a desk. Your call. Be creative. If you'd like to include a brief explanation of it, that would be cool. If not, cool, too.

Send email to skwaller@gmail.com