Lately, though, I've been so glad to have them. All three cats, though Atticus in particular, have been particularly loving and helpful since Leo died. Atticus often spends all day on the couch with me as I work, and Illy sleeps with us most nights. Esme remains reserved, but she's more present than she used to be for sure. They may not need us, but they know we need them, and they're doing their best to help us through. I love them for that.

Then, just now, I saw a Go Daddy ad on TV, featuring the "old Go Daddy Girl" schooling the "New Go Daddy Girl" on what would be expected of her. And then the ultra disgusting CEO popped up and made the innuendo that she'd also be expected to strip for his pleasure or something. I wish I could find it online, but I don't see it anywhere. Anyway, you've probably seen it. It's real class.

So, PSA: Go Daddy is not the only place to secure a reasonably priced URL. Mine are through Domain Site. I pay about $18 for two years of ownership on each domain, have had no issues, and they aren't, as far as I know, sexist asswipes.

In the grand scheme of literature, or of reviews, or even of online magazines, my little piece in Indigo Leaf wasn't even a ripple. The magazine didn't last too long (I'm not sure what happened with it, you'd have to ask Karen), what I wrote was serviceable, but not a masterpiece. But the importance, to me, of meeting that goal is hard to overstate. It was the first time in a long time I'd thought of myself as a writer. And I kept writing--I wrote for another online magazine, As We Are (also know defunct). I started blogging more seriously. I even started (and then stopped, and then started...) a journal.

Today, as I struggle through the beginnings of my National Novel Writing Month novel--my first real attempt at fiction in a long, long time--I'm drinking tea out of the Indigo Leaf mug Karen sent me as a thank you for the piece I contributed. That mug is a reminder, every day, that I set a goal and accomplished it. It doesn't matter at all that the article on Mary Prankster didn't catapult me into a career as a high-powered music reviewer. What matters is that I did it. This mug proves that. And it's going to go on proving that every day until the end of this month, at which time I will have a 50,000 word novel. It may not be a publishable novel, it may not even be a good novel, but it will be something I set my mind to doing and did. And if I do someday write a great novel, or even a publishable one, it will because I wrote this novel first. And that, in turn, will be because I wrote that piece for Indigo Leaf, and because I have this mug staring me in the face, reminding me that I can do this.

1. Write a 50,000-word (or longer!) novel, between November 1 and November 30.


2. Start from scratch. None of your own previously written prose can be included in your NaNoWriMo draft (though outlines, character sketches, and research are all fine, as are citations from other people's works).


3. Write a novel. We define a novel as a lengthy work of fiction. If you consider the book you're writing a novel, we consider it a novel too!


4. Be the sole author of your novel. Apart from those citations mentioned two bullet-points up.


5. Write more than one word repeated 50,000 times.


6. Upload your novel for word-count validation to our site between November 25 and November 30.

You know where this is going, right? I've been writing. In the last month, I've written more than 50,000 words (though I wouldn't call the result a novel). So, this month, no NaBloPoMo. I'm going in. I'm going to try to write a novel.

I won't be posting it her. I don't have any illusions about it being good. But it's something I've wanted to do for years and thought was beyond me. I know now that it's not.

If you were wondering, this is what a wholly good creature looks like.

If you have one, hug him or her for me today. Leo died this morning.

Until college, or just about that time, I had ideas of writing fiction professionally. I wrote a lot of stories, a couple of truly terrible immature novels, and quite a few embarrassing poems. And then I stopped. I can't say, exactly, why I stopped writing fiction. I think it was partially because I left home and my real life started to be more interesting to me, so I didn't have to live inside my imagination so much anymore. Partially, it was out of some idea of the type of writing that is serious and responsible--non-fiction. Plus, I spent so much time writing for school in college (Reed wasn't a multiple choice kind of place), it kind of killed my desire to write anything I didn't have to.

After college, I still didn't write much. I wrote emails. I started blogging. Eventually, I started writing professionally--technical writing, grant writing. It's nothing like writing for pleasure, whether you're writing fiction or not. The writing I do for pay is all about making things clear, simple, precise. It's craft, but it's not art. I don't mind doing it--in fact, I take a good deal of pride in a well written technical document--but it's not any sort of creative outlet.

Suddenly, a week or two ago, I started writing fiction again, all at once. Inspiration struck, from an odd place, and I started a story. Now I can't stop. I churn out a couple thousand words a day. I think about my story in the shower and when I am going to sleep. I weigh the pros and cons of what should happen next. I live inside fictional lives again. And I feel like I just picked something up that I dropped over a decade ago and have been missing the whole time. Everything about where I am right now feels wrong, doesn't fit. Writing feels right.

However, it's such a good question, and food for such thought, that I'm gonna blog about it anyway.

Genie asked about theme music. What's your theme music? I've answered this before, at various times and in various ways. Lots of songs about being too far from home, about loneliness and living in your head. Not unexpected, probably, for anybody who knows me or who has read here for very long. When I try to think of one single song, though, to play in the background of my entire life, the one I come up with isn't about either of those things. It's strangely more positive.

Boats to Build
It's time for a change
I'm tired of that same ol' same
The same ol' words the same ol' lines
The same ol' tricks and the same ol' rhymes

Days precious days
Roll in and out like waves
I got boards to bend I got planks to nail
I got charts to make I got seas to sail

I'm gonna build me a boat
With these two hands
It'll be a fair curve
From a noble plan
Let the chips fall where they will
Cause I've got boats to build

Sails are just like wings
The wind can make 'em sing
Songs of life songs of hope
Songs to keep your dreams afloat

I'm gonna build me a boat
With these two hands
It'll be a fair curve
From a noble plan
Let the chips fall where they will
Cause I've got boats to build

Shores distant shores
They're where I'm headed for
Got the stars to guide my way
Sail into the light of day

I don't think my dogs are old enough for that kind of toy.

I know, because I've played this scene before, that it's not the world's healthiest thing. I stop doing anything I don't absolutely have to. The quality of my work declines, the quality of my companionship declines--sometimes, the quality of my hygiene even declines. I'm sure it irritates the hell out of anybody who has to deal with me or needs anything from me. While it's not necessarily destructive--I have always, to this point, been able to keep my shit together enough to keep my job, for example--it's not pretty. It is, more than anything, completely selfish. I just get to this point where dealing with anybody outside my own head is so much work I can't see a reason to do it. I'm not miserable--in fact, I'm pretty content--but only so long as I don't have to engage with anyone.

Usually, at least these past few years, these periods of intense hermit behavior come in combination with an obsessive-level interest in something. A book I'll reread over and over again, or a television show (often, a television show), or the need to make hundreds of batches of bath bombs. I'm not sure if this is typical for people who have whatever my flavor of mental illness is, but it seems right to me, seems like a coping mechanism that, while irritating to those who have to be around me, is ultimately benign. A temporary place to put the focus I would normally direct at the events and relationships that define my real life.

The really great thing, I guess, about having been the way I am for so long, is that I know it doesn't last. Being in it, the way I feel right now, I can't imagine wanting to have a conversation, or participate in anything, really, or even leave the house. But I know, because I've been here before, that eventually, the fog clears, the obsession plays itself out, and I return to the way I was before. It usually happens gradually, ending the same way it started, and then I realize one day that I'm totally back to normal.

FX's original series, Sons of Anarchy, is an adrenalized drama with darkly comedic undertones that explores a notorious outlaw motorcycle club's (MC) desire to protect its livelihood while ensuring that their simple, sheltered town of Charming, California remains exactly that, Charming. The MC must confront threats from drug dealers, corporate developers, and overzealous law officers. Behind the MC's familial lifestyle and legally thriving automotive shop is a ruthless and illegally thriving arms business. The seduction of money, power, and blood.

Jackson 'Jax' Teller (Charlie Hunnam) is the MC's vice-president, whose loyalty to the club is tested by his growing apprehension for its lawlessness; Gemma Teller Morrow (Katey Sagal) is Jax's force-of-nature mother; and Clarence 'Clay' Morrow (Ron Perlman) is Jax's stepfather and MC president. The triangle of Mother, Son, and Stepfather will ultimately reveal the dark secrets in this family's past and the lengths they will go to protect their sins.

Outlaw motorcycle clubs are really not a big area of interest for me. And Ron Perlman pisses me off when he's not painted red. Wouldn't have given it a second look.

But, a couple of weeks ago, M. and I were watching a movie on FX (OK, so it was Ghost Rider--embarrassing to admit that, but there it is) and every single commercial break featured an ad for the Sons of Anarchy Season Two premiere. So we gave it a shot. I was hooked by the 15th minute. Now we're keeping up with this season as the episodes air while simultaneously catching up on the first season via Netflix. And I'm doing what I always do with shows I really like--thinking up alternate plot lines and characters in my head while I'm trying to go to sleep at night.

It's a good show. First of all, Katey Segal (remember her from Married...With Children?) is fantastic. Her character, Gemma, is a sort of Lady Macbeth matriarch, with that great vicious/conniving/caring combination, and she plays the hell out of it. Plus, she's admirably tough (I'm thinking about reviewing SOA for Heroine Content because of her, depending on what ends up happening this season). She's that rarest of TV gems--a well-written and well-acted female character. When I learned that the role was written specifically for Segal, by her husband, who produces the show, I was not at all surprised.

Ron Perlman's character, Clay, is also really interesting. I am still not a big fan of Perlman (I just can't see anything but Hellboy when I look at him), but I keep imagining the same character played by Ian McShane and that helps me appreciate the character more. He's a ruthless guy, but also one who is dedicated to his family--both Gemma and the club. And the underlying plot device of him dealing with the onset of age (he has arthritis and has increasing trouble with his hands as the show progresses) is a good one.

Mostly, though, as far as characters go, I'm watching the show for Jax. Jax is amazing. He's a motorcycle gang Hamlet (you knew you recognized this storyline from somewhere, right?), but with less whining and more ass-kicking. I know I should be over it by now, but that whole poet-barbarian thing still definitely awakens something in me. And Charlie Hunnam is just about perfect (which I never would have expected from his roles in Cold Mountain and Children of Men).

The motorcycle gang aspect of the show is really not important, at least not to me. It's about loyalty and family and growing up and all that jazz, and the backdrop to that really doesn't make that much difference. Though there is overlap between the world portrayed in SOA and the one portrayed in another FX show I used to like, The Shield, the two don't really relate in my mind. Sons of Anarchy reminds me more of two other shows--The Sopranos and Deadwood. Though the backdrops are obviously very different, it has the same kind of intense character development and the same almost-melodramatic Shakespearean undertones. I'm very excited to see what comes next.

super grace.pdf

Given my new capacity as work-from-homer, I have been expanding my wardrobe of comfortable, not business casual clothing. I could just wear pajamas all day, but, at least to begin with, I figured I'd pretend I'm making an effort. I want comfortable, casual combos that I can pull right on in the morning. Briefly, I considered track suits. Then I realized just how stupid that would look, and revised. What I really need to complete my suburban mommy look (i.e. fit in with the neighbors), I realized, was a selection of yoga pants.

I have loved yoga pants since they first came on to the scene. I understand that wearing them in public and not in a yoga class is a major fashion faux paus, but I just don't care. I not only love how they feel, I like how they look. They seem streamlined to me, plus they make my ass look amazing. The trouble is, they are very rarely long enough for me, and they look dead stupid when they're the wrong length. So, in my quest to invest in some new "office" wear, I started looking for some long-length yoga pants.

Google, of course, was my first step. This helpful article led me to check out Extreme Heights, Tall Women's Clothes, Fit Couture, Long Legs, and Sivana Spirit. All of these stores had pants that would likely be long enough, but I balked at the prices--$50 and up for yoga pants? I'm just not that committed to my work wardrobe. Maybe if I were actually really into yoga and I needed the pants to be functional, I'd consider paying that much, but since the whole idea here is simply for me not to wear pajamas, it seemed excessive.

Another Googled article seemed more promising, since the word "affordable" was in the title. It mentioned Victoria's Secret yoga pants, which come in long lengths and fun colors. I'd consider that, but as a last resort--I really kinda hate Victoria's Secret. The other suggest was the C9 by Champion pants at Target, which are only $20. Those are right up my alley, but my local store didn't have long lengths, so I had to bookmark them to come back to if and when I decided to go with online ordering.

Next, I checked Amazon. Searching for long or tall yoga pants, I found a few interesting options. Alternative Apparel makes a long wide-legged yoga pant that I like the looks of, and some of them are on sale for less than $20. No inseam length listed on Amazon, though, so I checked their website. On the website, I couldn't find any long length pants listed, but I did find out that the regular pants have a 33.25" inseam on a large and a 34.25" on an extra large. That's probably long enough, so I put these on the possibilities list.

The next interesting possibility that came up were long length pants from Land's End. The Amazon price was too steep for me, but I thought I'd take a look at Land's End's site to make sure they didn't have something less expensive there. They did--the Colorblock Performance Pants were on sale for $25. Without even checking to see what constitutes a tall inseam for Land's End, I ordered a pair.

They came yesterday, and I have to tell you all, I love them. They are made of thicker, more shape-keeping fabric than most yoga pants, and they look fantastic. I got the ones with the orange and coral waist, and they fit great. The thing is, Land's End's idea of a tall inseam in an XL is 32.75". They aren't really quite long enough. I'm keeping them anyway, but it only goes to show that you really have to look at merchant's individual sizing charts--they don't always speak the same language. Not understanding what tall really mean seems to be an ongoing issue with Land's End in particular--I ordered a long torso tank swimsuit from them (this one) at the same time, and it doesn't cover my nipples. That one is going back.

Another discovery I made while searching for yoga pants was We Love Colors. No yoga pants there, but colored leggings with long inseams! I have a ton of shorter dressed I'd love to wear leggings under in the winter, but I've only go the one pair of black ones (from Tall Girl). We Love Colors, however, has a 35" inseam in their XL leggings. They're $26 a pair, too, which seems reasonable. And they are available in (count them!) 50 colors. I ordered three pair (Maroon, Rubine, and Hunter Green). If I like them, I'll probably order more. What a find.

So, I still don't have long length yoga pants. I'll probably order some of the Alternative Apparel ones, and report back, or maybe get some of the C9 ones from Target. I actually have a really old pair from Target's Mossimo line that are long enough and don't say tall anywhere on them, so that might be an option as well. In the meantime, I'm going to hang out in my too-short but super comfortable Land's End pants. Not like anybody sees me anyway, right?