I read through all 178 pages of my novel. I wrote a new scene and cleaned some things up. I know my weak spots and where I need to focus. I worked for about four hours this evening on it. I set a goal with my writing group friends to be done by Sept. 15th and while part of me thinks that was a crazy thing to do, the other part knows I need my feet held to the fire. I am so close. I just need to finish it and send it out to others to read it and help me with it.
I'm pretty tired, but writing all this time felt good tonight.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Day 223
aghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I don't feel good. I almost fainted today and I can't figure out if I'm coming down with something or if I'm just stressed. I think it's the latter. I honestly think I'm a wimp now that T's gone all night every night. I am so worried about him and before I could just focus on all the stuff I had to do and just trust that he would be alright. Now I worry that he is up all night and not sleeping much or well during the day and its throwing everything all off. Where did the summer go? Where were all the fun little idylic field trips I was supposed to take the kids on? I don't understand. I hate not knowing. I hate limbo. I am in a life 'waiting room' on the one hand and charging full steam ahead on the other hand. Can I tell you how many times this week my 10 year old has babysat during late hours of the night? Every night this week, T leaves before I get home. I find my boy's bedroom light on reading his nightly vigil away. He doesn't complain and is a champ. He is perfectly capable of doing it, but my heart is always home praying that my babies are okay.
Where is the calm, zen fire woman? She has left the building and listening to Angels and Airwaves full blast as I write this. Now is the time for me to work on my novel. Today little C told me there were kidnappers in the green belt. What the? Then C asks me why people would kidnap children and if they just want the ransoms. I just hugged him and told him that maybe sometimes that happens, but that people just aren't very nice sometimes. I just left it at that. I want to always just leave it at that. They are getting older and I'm not ready.
I've gotten to the point where if people ask me what they can do, I just tell them. My darling sis'n'law asked what her and my brother can do and without even having to think I told her. I want to get away. My 15 year anniversary came and went without not only fanfare, I don't think even a piccalo played. I want to go away for a couple of days and remember T and I innocent, in a world where kidnappers only care about ransoms.
Where is T? Where is he under all of it? How is he really doing? I don't know. I do know he feels like everyone and their dog thinks he's a loser. How do I help him with that? I can tell him it's all ok, but he can tell if I'm not completely feeling it. I tell you without the Lord I would be in the fetal position. Because I sure as heck (I'm being a good girl here) can't make it all ok for him, C and little C. I know my love and support are vital, but sometimes it just doesn't seem like it's enough.
Mostly I'm just disappointed in myself that I can't do it all. I worry that I'm not a good enough wife, mother, friend, counselor, human being. Talk about providing self esteem. Don't worry. I've got it. I just want to be more, rise above, be better, learn and apply. and I know I'm taking baby steps, but sometimes it's hard until I've looked behind me. T is a stud. No one even uses that word any more, but the fact that he hasn't hung his head and run across the border floats my boat. Anyone else looking forward to when "George" moves on and I come back to my senses? Peace. Out.
PS- K, you amaze me. I know I have no reason to complain in lieu of your trials right now. I love you and your faith is inspirational to me. Hugs and prayers to you and N.
Where is the calm, zen fire woman? She has left the building and listening to Angels and Airwaves full blast as I write this. Now is the time for me to work on my novel. Today little C told me there were kidnappers in the green belt. What the? Then C asks me why people would kidnap children and if they just want the ransoms. I just hugged him and told him that maybe sometimes that happens, but that people just aren't very nice sometimes. I just left it at that. I want to always just leave it at that. They are getting older and I'm not ready.
I've gotten to the point where if people ask me what they can do, I just tell them. My darling sis'n'law asked what her and my brother can do and without even having to think I told her. I want to get away. My 15 year anniversary came and went without not only fanfare, I don't think even a piccalo played. I want to go away for a couple of days and remember T and I innocent, in a world where kidnappers only care about ransoms.
Where is T? Where is he under all of it? How is he really doing? I don't know. I do know he feels like everyone and their dog thinks he's a loser. How do I help him with that? I can tell him it's all ok, but he can tell if I'm not completely feeling it. I tell you without the Lord I would be in the fetal position. Because I sure as heck (I'm being a good girl here) can't make it all ok for him, C and little C. I know my love and support are vital, but sometimes it just doesn't seem like it's enough.
Mostly I'm just disappointed in myself that I can't do it all. I worry that I'm not a good enough wife, mother, friend, counselor, human being. Talk about providing self esteem. Don't worry. I've got it. I just want to be more, rise above, be better, learn and apply. and I know I'm taking baby steps, but sometimes it's hard until I've looked behind me. T is a stud. No one even uses that word any more, but the fact that he hasn't hung his head and run across the border floats my boat. Anyone else looking forward to when "George" moves on and I come back to my senses? Peace. Out.
PS- K, you amaze me. I know I have no reason to complain in lieu of your trials right now. I love you and your faith is inspirational to me. Hugs and prayers to you and N.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Day 222
When I was growing up, my mom used to call our monthly friend, "George." That was until a new family moved in next door and the man's name was actually George. And she would curse "George" up and down so that had to stop. I think it then became "Pete," but I digress. "George" is currently with me and I have been weeping or weepy all day. Thanks C for listening to me snivel and bemoan my hormonally skewered fate.
T didn't get the job we thought he was getting. He is now at a temp job and will be there until five am tomorrow morning. I hate that. I just do. I'm not going to put a bow on it and wrap it up for granny. I just hate not having him here with me overnight. We've done this before. Now we are doing it again. I know, I know, that's life. I miss him. I miss knowing him when we aren't tense and stressed in the quagmire of little details and sometimes big ones too. I want a sunset beach. I want a breath with him. We went to the temple last week and were chosen as the witness couple. I thought that was pretty apropos because while we always go separately, we seldom go together. It was like a little gift, a little hurrah that we were together at the right place and that it mattered.
It's so hard. I'm sorry, I don't mean to complain. I can't explain how we are surviving financially, but I tell you after all this time, things are just working out. I guess my period and unemployment just aren't on speaking terms right now, because the two of them are a cocktail for emotion spillage for me. How do you like that image? I went to see The Help with my sister. She is actually my brother's wife, but she is my sister. I adore her. Run, don't walk and see this movie. I went through a packet of Kleenex. Oh my gosh. Allison Janney? She kills me. I was so impressed with everything really. I would finally breathe and then someone else's performance had me again. This was a risk for Bryce Dallas. I love her and I don't. She was Hilly, bless her little heart. And Mo Mabley? Squish your precious little girls. Ok, maybe don't go see it when "George" comes to visit you.
T didn't get the job we thought he was getting. He is now at a temp job and will be there until five am tomorrow morning. I hate that. I just do. I'm not going to put a bow on it and wrap it up for granny. I just hate not having him here with me overnight. We've done this before. Now we are doing it again. I know, I know, that's life. I miss him. I miss knowing him when we aren't tense and stressed in the quagmire of little details and sometimes big ones too. I want a sunset beach. I want a breath with him. We went to the temple last week and were chosen as the witness couple. I thought that was pretty apropos because while we always go separately, we seldom go together. It was like a little gift, a little hurrah that we were together at the right place and that it mattered.
It's so hard. I'm sorry, I don't mean to complain. I can't explain how we are surviving financially, but I tell you after all this time, things are just working out. I guess my period and unemployment just aren't on speaking terms right now, because the two of them are a cocktail for emotion spillage for me. How do you like that image? I went to see The Help with my sister. She is actually my brother's wife, but she is my sister. I adore her. Run, don't walk and see this movie. I went through a packet of Kleenex. Oh my gosh. Allison Janney? She kills me. I was so impressed with everything really. I would finally breathe and then someone else's performance had me again. This was a risk for Bryce Dallas. I love her and I don't. She was Hilly, bless her little heart. And Mo Mabley? Squish your precious little girls. Ok, maybe don't go see it when "George" comes to visit you.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Day 221
Does anyone feel like they don't see me anymore? I'm sorry about that. I can't tell you how many people tell me I look tired which is never a good thing. I am tired. Those new minerals I'm taking make it so that I don't crash during the day which gives me more stamina to get things done, but it also makes me wonder if I truly am getting enough rest. I still think I am being I am being lifted and carried. I gave my two weeks notice for the filing job. There's just no way. I left at 7 am last Thursday, worked at the new job until 3:30, trained until 4:30, went straight to the doctor job until 8 and then ran to file until 10:30 pm. Certifiable, that's what it is. And that's my temple night which is the most important thing anyway. I went on Wednesday instead and it just wasn't quite the same. There is NO WAY I could have done this even a few months ago. Luckily, the filing job will end Tuesday and that will free up three hours.
It isn't a bad thing for me to get a taste of what T experienced. I come home and he has dinner made and things straightened up. Sometimes he doesn't get to it and that can be overwhelming. But I will be stuck in traffic and call him to start dinner preparation. Today I had RS visits for two and half hours and he had my zucchini soup ready when I got home. It's just been good for me and maybe for him too? I can't speak for him, but I've been proud of him for keeping his spirits up. I know it must be hell in a lot of ways. I think he's enjoyed being with the kids. It's been fun, surreal, scary, peaceful, everything, having all of us home all this summer. He lost his job just as C was ending his last school year. And now C will begin again next Monday. Full circle.
C met his teacher Friday. He already knows her because she was his reading teacher in second grade and she remembers him really well for getting some of the highest reading scores at the school. He seemed happy that she will be his teacher and I PRAY that this year will be better. Seriously. You may find me on my knees all day every day praying for this. Fifth grade. He will do great. I'm just putting it out there. He will do great.
It isn't a bad thing for me to get a taste of what T experienced. I come home and he has dinner made and things straightened up. Sometimes he doesn't get to it and that can be overwhelming. But I will be stuck in traffic and call him to start dinner preparation. Today I had RS visits for two and half hours and he had my zucchini soup ready when I got home. It's just been good for me and maybe for him too? I can't speak for him, but I've been proud of him for keeping his spirits up. I know it must be hell in a lot of ways. I think he's enjoyed being with the kids. It's been fun, surreal, scary, peaceful, everything, having all of us home all this summer. He lost his job just as C was ending his last school year. And now C will begin again next Monday. Full circle.
C met his teacher Friday. He already knows her because she was his reading teacher in second grade and she remembers him really well for getting some of the highest reading scores at the school. He seemed happy that she will be his teacher and I PRAY that this year will be better. Seriously. You may find me on my knees all day every day praying for this. Fifth grade. He will do great. I'm just putting it out there. He will do great.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Day 219
The shop smells like cat. It makes sense since a cat is the first thing I see, curled up like a vintage stole on a tattered cushion. The proprietor of the shop is all I could have hoped for and I am immediately on my best behavior. He is twitchy and intense and a social understudy. He acknowledges our presence by almost imperceptibly lifting his eyes above his thick black frames. His spirit licks the walls covered with Sinatra, Elvis, Judy album covers. The collection of Derby hats belies a collection since childhood and the men's section is what adorns our attention as soon as we enter.
T grabs a Fedora and the felt spoons his ears. I shake my head and leave him to his own fate. I enter into another room and gasp. I admit it. Dresses arrayed by era, feathers, sequins, mothballs, it's all here. The fabric is heavy and though I don't see the owner his angry eyes seem to be reflected like a disco ball in the center of the space. I want to pick garments up to try them on, but almost reverently I just need to pay homage to my surroundings. Orange is on full display and I am attracted to it as it leads me near with peachy pheromones.
I stop at the woman's hats. Oh, collapsed lungs. The netting, the flowers, the bead work. I cannot fail to miss the well placed sign with it's not so tongue in cheek mantra: DON'T PLAY IN THE DAMN HATS. Duly noted. I am obsessed with excavating good feeling among people who frighten me. I see the man stalking the racks subtly following my trail. I say, "Excuse me, but I am looking for a dress from the forties and I am not exactly sure what I'm looking for." He looks annoyed and tells me he will help me later and we both know that now he will stop following me, though I would have rather he answered my question.
There is a $5 rack. An orange brocade suit nudges my will power, but really when will I wear orange brocade? It is heavy on the hanger, heavy on my frame I'm sure. A navy polka dot ensemble has me at hello and I find that I am now ready to bear fabric in my arms. Hat sign be damned, I try some on. Do I have a large head? Were heads smaller then, were bodies? I feel like a modern Attila the Hun as silk flowers perch ridiculously on my always considered normal sized noggin. I need gloves, don't I? I need a light blue taffeta prom dress, right? I am on a mission now. I need a lime green pea coat. I need a cameo, scarves with Asian flare, a cream blouse with more ruffles than Bobo the clown.
And now I need to try them on. The man points toward three rickety looking dressing rooms. There is not only no lock on mine, there is no latch. Is this his idea of a security camera? Ooohhh...I don't want to get on his bad side and I talk myself into the fact that T is looking at suspenders nearby and then I can't stop touching the lilac velvet chair inside the tiny room emanating a royal vintage vibe and I undress. The fabric is well made and sometimes musty. There are more buttons than I feel like messing with. The ruffles now seem like a really bad idea and I am dismayed as I look into the mirror. I am not wearing vintage well. The sleeves come up past my wrists or the coats wrap me in their coils. I feel stiff and uncomfortable and slightly itchy. Something changes inside me in that unprotected room. I had envisioned that I was part of that world, that the world was part of me. I needed a fifties house dress and apron to clean in, a pill box hat, and white gloves to run errands. I can't pull it off.
I am a modern girl with an old school twist. I do not subscribe to the casualness of the world. I wish we all wore dresses everyday. How sick I get of jeans. I think we need to have a fancy dress for some other place than church. And if we were wearing white gloves would we have as much road rage? I don't buy anything from the store and when we leave the cat is gone off his perch, but I haunted the shop I had wondered about for months and I may even go back. It is a character. The whole experience awakened a creativity and thirst even. I found a pair of red square toed Mary Jane's at the DI soon after so you can't take the past from the girl. I realize that it just isn't the fashion. It's the quest for beauty, for femininity, for the opportunity to make a mark, a work of art on my body when I'm not working on the written page. Color attracts me and I need it near me. I like the classics, in literature, in education, in my wardrobe. A simpler time, a more innocent time, and a man and his cat will follow you around the store should you too decide to go rummage through his wares. Bring your own lock...
T grabs a Fedora and the felt spoons his ears. I shake my head and leave him to his own fate. I enter into another room and gasp. I admit it. Dresses arrayed by era, feathers, sequins, mothballs, it's all here. The fabric is heavy and though I don't see the owner his angry eyes seem to be reflected like a disco ball in the center of the space. I want to pick garments up to try them on, but almost reverently I just need to pay homage to my surroundings. Orange is on full display and I am attracted to it as it leads me near with peachy pheromones.
I stop at the woman's hats. Oh, collapsed lungs. The netting, the flowers, the bead work. I cannot fail to miss the well placed sign with it's not so tongue in cheek mantra: DON'T PLAY IN THE DAMN HATS. Duly noted. I am obsessed with excavating good feeling among people who frighten me. I see the man stalking the racks subtly following my trail. I say, "Excuse me, but I am looking for a dress from the forties and I am not exactly sure what I'm looking for." He looks annoyed and tells me he will help me later and we both know that now he will stop following me, though I would have rather he answered my question.
There is a $5 rack. An orange brocade suit nudges my will power, but really when will I wear orange brocade? It is heavy on the hanger, heavy on my frame I'm sure. A navy polka dot ensemble has me at hello and I find that I am now ready to bear fabric in my arms. Hat sign be damned, I try some on. Do I have a large head? Were heads smaller then, were bodies? I feel like a modern Attila the Hun as silk flowers perch ridiculously on my always considered normal sized noggin. I need gloves, don't I? I need a light blue taffeta prom dress, right? I am on a mission now. I need a lime green pea coat. I need a cameo, scarves with Asian flare, a cream blouse with more ruffles than Bobo the clown.
And now I need to try them on. The man points toward three rickety looking dressing rooms. There is not only no lock on mine, there is no latch. Is this his idea of a security camera? Ooohhh...I don't want to get on his bad side and I talk myself into the fact that T is looking at suspenders nearby and then I can't stop touching the lilac velvet chair inside the tiny room emanating a royal vintage vibe and I undress. The fabric is well made and sometimes musty. There are more buttons than I feel like messing with. The ruffles now seem like a really bad idea and I am dismayed as I look into the mirror. I am not wearing vintage well. The sleeves come up past my wrists or the coats wrap me in their coils. I feel stiff and uncomfortable and slightly itchy. Something changes inside me in that unprotected room. I had envisioned that I was part of that world, that the world was part of me. I needed a fifties house dress and apron to clean in, a pill box hat, and white gloves to run errands. I can't pull it off.
I am a modern girl with an old school twist. I do not subscribe to the casualness of the world. I wish we all wore dresses everyday. How sick I get of jeans. I think we need to have a fancy dress for some other place than church. And if we were wearing white gloves would we have as much road rage? I don't buy anything from the store and when we leave the cat is gone off his perch, but I haunted the shop I had wondered about for months and I may even go back. It is a character. The whole experience awakened a creativity and thirst even. I found a pair of red square toed Mary Jane's at the DI soon after so you can't take the past from the girl. I realize that it just isn't the fashion. It's the quest for beauty, for femininity, for the opportunity to make a mark, a work of art on my body when I'm not working on the written page. Color attracts me and I need it near me. I like the classics, in literature, in education, in my wardrobe. A simpler time, a more innocent time, and a man and his cat will follow you around the store should you too decide to go rummage through his wares. Bring your own lock...
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Day 218
I was gone 14 hrs. today. Say a little prayer for T, he has a 4th interview tomorrow for the same company. I'm so tired I think I will just fall into bed.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Day 217
T just got a new calling, but will still keep his other two for the foreseeable future. We were laughing. I have three jobs, he has three callings. They say good things come in threes. My parents came by last night wondering how all this is going to work. I told them we were in the Lord's hands and He knew what was going on. We have been doing really well, but today we were driving each other batty.
He left for awhile just to get out of the house and then I did. Boy, this house feels small sometimes.
I think I am going to take this new job. I wrote up a schedule and I can work all day on Thursdays and a few hours on Saturday mornings and not be gone from the kids for too long. T will be home on Saturdays and my mom offered to watch the kids on Thursdays when T gets a job. I will still keep my doctor job on Saturday afternoons as well. Things may get rearranged a little, but right now this feels good. I really think I can learn a lot.
He left for awhile just to get out of the house and then I did. Boy, this house feels small sometimes.
I think I am going to take this new job. I wrote up a schedule and I can work all day on Thursdays and a few hours on Saturday mornings and not be gone from the kids for too long. T will be home on Saturdays and my mom offered to watch the kids on Thursdays when T gets a job. I will still keep my doctor job on Saturday afternoons as well. Things may get rearranged a little, but right now this feels good. I really think I can learn a lot.
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