This One's for You

A., Liz and I had lunch at McDonald's today. We each got a cheeseburger Happy Meal, with a little Strawberry Shortcake family member inside. We're keeping the dolls on our desks at work so that we'll have them as a cute and precious reminder of you. We had that picture of you, your daughter, Liz and me, and Mom with us, and remembered the good times. We laughed about the funny things we did together.

On the way back to the office, we stopped at Sonic and I got a cherry vanilla Dr. Pepper in your honor.

When I go home tonight, I'm going to stop at the grocery store, buy a can of chocolate frosting, and take a big spoonful for you. I'm sorry I didn't get the chocolate frosting for you those long years ago. And I promise that the next kid who asks me for a can of chocolate frosting as a treat will get one.

I love you and I miss you. I hope you're finding some peace now. Until we meet again, know how much I love you.

Moving Forward

It's interesting. I've noted that people seem to think, because of the way A. died and the circumstances that led up to her death, it's almost indecent to acknowledge that I've suffered a loss. My truest friends have been nothing but kind and loving and compassionate. And I received a sympathy card from a dear lady I used to work with, and was deeply moved by it. But my in-laws (some of whom know the whole story, and others just know that one of my sisters passed away last week) have not made any acknowledgment to me of my loss, nor have some other people from whom I might have expected it. Granted, my in-laws--as much as I love them--are far from being overly sensitive of my feelings (e.g. they completely ignored the IVF, both the attempts and the loss). Still, it stings.

Liz met me for lunch today, and we shared a chicken-fried steak meal at Chili's. It's the first food I've eaten since A. died that actually tasted good to me, and it's the first full meal Liz has eaten in that time period as well. That indicates that we're moving through the initial stages of the grief and finding some pleasures in life again.

I've felt a little guilty, like maybe I am cold or something, because I haven't reacted with the major outrushings of grief that Liz and Mom have. Don't get me wrong; I have wept and sobbed over A.'s death. I never quite know when it's going to hit me. I can be watching "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and start bawling. But except for those moments, and except for when I'm listening to J. or Liz or my husband talk about A.'s life and death, I have remained pretty calm. Perhaps it's partly because I can recognize that A. never "fit" into this world, and now she's somewhere that she can, I pray, find in death the peace that escaped her in life. I don't know for sure why I'm feeling this calmness, but I'm grateful for it.

Sometime in October, I made the decision to quit watching R-rated movies. I went years where I never even thought to watch one, but I started watching them around '99 or 2000. I kept insisting that it didn't affect me, and I was careful in what I watched, but that's not true. They did affect me, and I can see it all the more clearly now that I no longer watch them. I started to watch a movie the other night that had been described as a very funny and enjoyable movie, but had to turn it off after about 15 minutes because it was just disgusting. I didn't find any humor in the sexual innuendos, particularly some that were pedophilic (is that even a word?) in nature. I don't know that I would have even paid those things any heed before. So yes, they did affect me in a way that I am not comfortable with. I'm glad they're not in my life anymore.

Also, my husband has long hated the fact that I used to watch the police and crime shows on TV. I told him that I grew up with a mother who was a forensic investigator, and have read and watched police and crime novels and shows all my life, and kept watching. But when I moved back home after Joe and I had been separated for a few months, I decided to try paying attention to his concerns. It truly bothered him that I watched CSI and Law & Order, and it certainly didn't hurt me to quit watching those shows. So I quit. On the night I learned that A. had probably been involved in a homicide and was herself killed in a police shootout, I thanked heaven that I had paid attention to my husband and quit watching those shows. I don't think I'll ever watch them again. Liz said she turned on CSI Thursday night, through sheer force of habit, only to turn it off within about 5 seconds. It's amazing how your perspective changes when your life is closely touched by crime.

Please don't think this is a condemnation in any way of people who watch R-rated movies or crime shows. It's not. It is, rather, a recognition that I am happier having made the decision, for whatever reasons, to eliminate them from my own life.

More moving on stuff: Joe got a fantastic job offer from a company that he has been wanting to work with. It is a great opportunity for him, and I'm so glad that this worked out. Also, I got notice from the teacher certification program that I have been accepted into the English-Language Arts-Reading Grades 4-8 program. I am taking my content area exam on February 18th, and can then start applying for teaching jobs for the 2006-2007 school year. And Joe went to church yesterday for the first time since I had my hysterectomy performed, a few years ago. That's perhaps the best thing of all.

Two Losses

There are two losses here. There is the loss of my sister's life, the fact that she's no longer in this world. And then there's the loss of something else, something indefinable, but it's gone. And it's that loss that's harder for me to bear than the other.

Somehow losing A. has made it possible for me to distinguish between the person she was and the person she became. I'm glad for that. I have always loved her, and I always will. But I loathed the person she became, while cherishing the person she was. She hungered for love, but always turned away from it when it was there. Her last boyfriend, J., is a loving, kind man. I told him yesterday that he is adopted into our family. I'm so sorry that A. couldn't light the darkness within her and allow J. to love her and to freely love him. For she did love him, that I know.

During the time that A. was living with me and Joe, the subject somehow came up of toys. I remarked, as I often have, that I always wanted an Easy-Bake oven, and never got one. One day she came home with an Easy-Bake oven for me. We gleefully baked all the mixes that came with the oven, and ate everything, and had a delightful time. I later gave it away to a charity, so that some other little girl who always wanted an Easy Bake Oven could get one and enjoy it. That's the kind of sweet thing that A. Would do.

Our whole family is seriously messed up. Yet some of us persist and pull through the crap to live a decent life. Others don't. What makes the difference? It's not worth--I believe that each human life is of the same intrinsic value. It's not strength--A., for example, had a lot of strength that was misapplied. I don't know.

I always thought there would be time. I thought that one day A. would wake up and realize that she had trashed her life, get tired of it, and do something about it. But the time is gone. At least, earthly time. I do believe that she is still in existence, and believe that she has a chance now to make something of herself. She never fit into this world. Liz said that she was "born broken." That's probably the best way to put it. A. seemed to think that she had to walk in the path of her birth mother, like a fate she could not escape.

I know these questions have no answers, but I can't help asking them. Did we do enough? What could we have done differently? Does she know that we love her, no matter what?

That's what I've been praying for. I've begged Heavenly Father to make sure she knows that I love her, that I always have and always will.

I want to write a letter to the P. Family and express my sorrow for their loss. I also want to write the police officer who shot my sister, and tell him that I have no anger for him; he was doing his job, and did what he had to do. I'm sorry that he had to do it, for his sake, but it had to be done.

I'm so grateful for our friends who have reached out with love and compassion, reserving any judgment. They help us all get through this. I get sick every time I hear the telephone ring, but I'm hopeful that the worst of it is over, and now we can begin to heal.

Memories

I have some photos of A. that our grandmother took. A. had the chickenpox, so she had red spots all over her body. She had gotten out of the bathtub, and refused to allow our grandmother to dress her, and instead dashed over to her rocking horse and rocked madly away, buck naked.

I remember one day when A. had come over to spend some time with me. We took a walk, and she wanted a soda. Instead of asking for one, she mimed gulping down a soda, smacking her lips with satisfaction, and then making an "aaah" sound. I pretended not to understand what she wanted, and she kept doing it over and over.

Another time I was going to buy her a treat, and asked what she wanted. She gleefully asked if we could get a can of chocolate frosting, and share it! I was totally grossed out by the thought, and refused, but got her something else that she enjoyed almost as well.

When Joe and I were newlyweds, we had A. over to spend the night a few times. Once I took her with me when I was getting the truck washed at one of those automatic car washes. I told her, with dramatic emphasis, that after the wash cycles were finished, a huge vacuum was going to go over the car and suck up all the water. I said it in such a way that she would think I was joking, and the look of delight on her face when the vacuum cycle actually did suck up all the water was beautiful.

Once when the parents were out of town, I was staying at their house keeping an eye on things. Liz was still in high school, and A. was in elementary school. A. was going through a hating to bathe phase, and flat out refused to take a bath. She was nasty stinky, and I was determined that she would bathe that night. Finally I got tired, and filled the tub with water and told her that if she didn't get into the bathtub by the time I counted to 10, I'd throw her in with her clothes on. She giggled and laughed, thinking it was all a game, until I threw her in with her clothes on. She sat there for a moment completely speechless. Then her face started to get red, and she opened her mouth and began to bellow. "I'm going to tell Mommy! I'm going to tell Daddy!" and she went down the list of everyone she was going to tell on me. I calmly stood there and waited for her to finish roaring, at which point I said, "You know what? Mommy's going to think it's funny. Daddy's going to think it's funny. Liz and I think it's funny. And I think if you stop yelling for a minute and think about it, you'll think it's funny, too." She sat there for a minute, and then started laughing. Of course, she hated having that episode brought up in later years, and probably never laughed about it again.

During that same week, we taught her how to make a family dish called "Something Different." Mom had whipped it up when, as a newlywed, Dad unexpectedly brought someone home for dinner when she had nothing to fix. A. made the dinner on the night our parents were expected home from their trip. When we asked her how she liked it, she said, "It's distinctly good, because I made it!"

Once Liz and I took A. out to dinner. She ordered spaghetti and meatballs, and the food was taking a little longer to arrive than she thought appropriate. She took her knife and fork and banged them on the table, yelling, "Where's my eats, woman?" Liz and I shrunk under the table and tried unsuccessfully to pretend that we didn't know A.

One day I had taken Liz and A. for a ride. A. was in the back seat, belching as obnoxiously as possible. She could belch on demand as loudly and violently as any boy I've ever heard. Liz began getting disgusted with it after a while, and proclaimed that "belching isn't funny. Snorting is." I laughed my butt off when A. began snorting, and carried on for the remainder of the ride. Liz wasn't amused by the fact that she opened herself up for it, and had no one to blame but herself.

One of those life-changing days

I wonder. If one knew in advance that a day was going to be a horrible, terrible, life-changing day, would it be easier? If when the alarm went off, it could say, "Warning! Today will suck beyond the imagining of it," would it make it a little easier to deal with what is coming, or would one still be in denial until the terrible thing happened.

I don't know.

Eleven days ago, a man was murdered. I live in a different state, and didn't know anything about it.

This afternoon I got a phone call from my sister Liz. She had gotten a phone call from J., the former boyfriend of another of our sisters, A. J. wanted to talk to A., who told him that she was living with Liz. She wasn't. J. said that the police had gone to talk to him, and informed him that they needed to speak with A. in connection with the murder of the man.

Liz and I were sickened by the mere thought that our sister had been involved in a murder. We were nervous about letting our mother know, as she is in poor health. Our mother is a trouper, and handled it far better than we dared hope. She called the police, talked with them, and then let us know what she had learned. A. wasn't suspected of actually firing the shot that took the man's life, but was definitely believed to have been with the person who did.

When I got home from work, I called the police officer to give him some information on A.'s half-sister who might possibly have had some knowledge of where A. was. He didn't take the information from me, but said that they had some new information and that he was going to my mother's house to talk to her. Thinking that perhaps they knew where A. was or even that she was in police custody, I tried not to worry about things.

The phone rang about half an hour later. My mother, sobbing, told me that A. is dead. She and the man that had committed the robbery and murder with her were on the move, and had gotten involved in a police chase in another state. Their car crashed, and the man got out of the car firing shots, and was killed by police. A. got out of the car, brandishing a knife and making threats, and was killed by police. Apparently she was close enough to an officer that she could have killed him, and they had to shoot her.

I hold no malice or anger whatsoever to the police. They were doing their job.

I can't believe that A. is dead. But even harder to believe is that she could have been involved in a murder. I had no trouble believing that she was involved in a robbery that went wrong--she has been a drug addict for some years, and drug addicts do all kinds of things to get drug money. I believe the police when they say that she was there and was involved; and if she was participating in a robbery that ended in homicide, then there is nothing more to be said.

My heart aches for the family of the man who was killed. I saw his picture, and he looks like my late father-in-law. He was a hero. And his life was taken for nothing.

My heart aches for my mother. She loves A., and couldn't love her more if she'd given birth to her. My mother taught A. right from wrong, and adored her, and has been heart-broken by her continued bad choices.

My heart aches for M., A.'s daughter. She has been in the sole custody of her father, who has since remarried, for two years. I hope her father can keep her from this knowledge for now, but eventually she will know what her mother did and be hurt by it.

My heart aches for A. I keep wondering if I could have done something that would have made a difference for her. Maybe I could, probably I couldn't have. Either way it doesn't matter--it's done. She's gone.

Flu and Fever Induced Dreams

In my dreams today, I learned that I do not have the flu; I have "le moo." Yes, you heard it right, le moo, caused by black and white French cows. Said cows look really funny when they get out from under the covers to go to the bathroom and get goosebumps.

UPDATE:

Since I had gotten all of my work completed, and the pains in my head and my chest and my throat weren't getting any better, I did end up coming home. My boss was sympathetic, as she herself was leaving half an hour before I did so she could go to the doctor because, yes, she's been sick all week. I stopped on the way home for an industrial-sized box of Nyquil gelcaps and some Ben & Jerry's. The Ben & Jerry's soothed my throat as much as I'd hoped it would, although now that I exercised some self-control and put half of it back into the freezer, my throat's raw and owie-ful again.

Also, I must take this opportunity, before I pass out (I hope, anyway), to inform you that I have a very, very, very smart dog. Molly avoids the bathroom. It is the room of baths, the room where she is stripped of her dignity and filth as she gets forced into the bathtub and sudsed and rinsed. She will come visit me in any room in the house except the bathroom. Once I was in the bathtub with the door open, and called her to me. I watched her go down the hall, resolutely avoiding the making of eye contact, and heard her slither under the bed in the guest room. I'm familiar with that eye contact avoidance, since it's the technique I use with the people who sell hand creams at little kiosks in the mall. So you've got it, right? Molly hates the bathroom.

However, if we're home and she has to go out, but cannot rouse us from slumber, she goes to the bathroom in the bathroom. Not only does she go in the bathroom, but she goes right in front of the toilet, where I'm bound to step in it when I sleepily toddle to the bathroom at 3 a.m. She doesn't do that when we're not home; if she absolutely must go when we're gone, she considerately uses the piddle pads we leave out for her. No, it is only when we are at home but insensitive to her needs that she goes into the bathroom to make her statement. See, I think that's brilliant of her. She knows what purpose the toilet is intended for, and I guess she figures she's one of us and may as well use the facilities like we do.

So instead of griping that I only very occasionally find a puddle or a pile in the bathroom at 3 a.m., I should be grateful that she condescends to go outside when she can get us to let her out, or on the piddle pads during the day. Right? Right?

Sick, sick, sick. Sick is not good. Sick is not fun. Sick is lying awake half the night, coughing and feeling pins and needles in your throat each time. Sick is sleeping the other half of the night, and while sleeping dreaming that you're lying awake, coughing and feeling pins and needles in your throat each time. Sick is getting up in the morning, completely not wanting to go to work but knowing that you have to go and going. Sick is going to work not giving two cents about your appearance or greasy hair. Sick is sitting at work wondering if you dare tell your boss you need to go home, and what will her reaction be, because you're still temping and don't want to burn bridges, but dangit you're sick! Sick is sucking on Halls Max honey lemon throat drops like they were candy, because they do soothe the pins and needles in the throat.

Okay, I know it could be much, much worse. So I'll quit griping for now.

Joe had a good job interview yesterday, and thinks they'll probably make an offer within a few days. Basically, he would be hired by a different company to stay onsite at the bank where he is already the primary telecom person. We'll see what happens. He's talking about getting a new car. I assumed that he would drive the new car and that I would continue driving Buffy, which is completely fine with me. I mean, he'll be driving a lot more than I do, and besides, I got the new car the last time. But no, he said that he'll get the car for me, and he'll take over Buffy. I only ask that the new car get good gas mileage, have air conditioning (we do live in Texas, after all), and have an automatic transmission. I had forgotten how unpleasant standard transmissions can be when one is in heavy traffic. That's another reason I figured he'd want to drive the new car; I only have a 14-mile round trip in comparatively light traffic each day; he'll have about a 45- to 60-mile round trip in very heavy traffic each day.

Wednesday Mind Hump

Crank Up The Stereo Day. Let's get humping!

1. What artist and/or band (or a few) makes you want to crank your stereo so the whole neighborhood can hear?

The Clash, Billy Idol, Violent Femmes, the soundtrack to Moulin Rouge, the Eurythmics, Paris Combo, any of the Putamayo CDs

On the rare occasions when I am on a cleaning spree at home, I like to have the music loud and rowdy. My neighbors can probably hear it down the block--but that keeps me going. Also, when I'm in a black mood, I like to listen to this kind of music; it allows me to indulge my black mood until it miraculously vanishes when I realize I'm having a good time. And I love listening to the Putamayo world music; I crank it up loud and merengue around the house until I collapse.

2. What are a few of your favorite songs to crank on your stereo?

Run Shithead Run, Rebel Yell, White Wedding, Should I Stay or Should I Go, Rock the Casbah, Missionary Man,

3. What artist or style of music do you NOT want to hear cranked up on a stereo?

Oh, gosh--I hate hip-hop/rap/whatever you call that stuff. It seriously annoys me. Which is funny, because I love hip-hop dancing.

I also don't particularly care for hearing mariachi music cranked up. When I lived in Anaheim, we had some neighbors across the street who congregated in the driveway every morning starting at 7, and they spent the day drinking cerveza and listening to mariachi music that was cranked so loud the whole neighborhood could hear it.

4. What "stereo" do you use most often: regular stereo, DVD player, clock radio, computer, Ipod, or car stereo?

I don't use any one more often than another. It is all determined by where I am and what I'm doing. I do not use a clock radio or an Ipod, since I have neither.

More Ramblings (I ramble a lot, huh?)

Well, Joe got the word yesterday. He is laid off as of 1/31/06. He is taking it pretty well, I think, although he is quite tense. He had an interview yesterday with a headhunter who informed Joe that he has been seriously underpaid. No kidding! Joe, in a desire to bring his appearance more in line with a serious candidate for employment instead of a rock star, got his hair cut yesterday. Now, he's told me before that he got his hair cut, when I suspect he really had the stylist wave the scissors near his hair. So I wasn't really expecting a cut. May I say, wow! He got it cut SHORT! And it looks fantastic--it's not a fuddy-duddy short hair cut like he is so afraid of getting, but it's quite stylish and makes him look younger. I got him some designer shirts & ties on Saturday (I love you, TJ Maxx), and he got some new dress pants, so he is looking extremely tasty these days.

He called me a few minutes ago full of lofty plans for the future, including getting a larger house with a huge kitchen and, not to cast aspersions on my housekeeping talents, said that he'd like to get a maid to come in once a week. Am I complaining? I think not. I'd love to have someone come in once a week to do the ooky work, like mopping floors and cleaning toilets. Frankly, I'd like to have someone come in once a day to do it all--cook, clean, etc. I'm not a domestic diva. No Martha Stewarts live at my house. I'm a great interior decorator, but I hate cleaning.

What kind of Mormon am I! gasp! I don't like to do crafts, don't like to clean, don't sew, don't have kids . . . . It's funny how easy it is to get caught up in the culture, and think you have to fit into this nice, neat little niche in order to be a member of the church. You don't, of course. It's not about having a billion kids or making all the bread for your family or having the cleanest house on the block or sewing all the clothes for your family. It's about your faith in God the Father, your belief in and acceptance of the atonement, about your belief in the restored gospel. Those things I have.

On Monday night, instead of watching the Golden Globes as I'd originally planned to do, I went to see Narnia with Joe. I'd seen it twice already, but he had not yet seen it. And he so rarely likes to go to the theatre that I will drop pretty much anything to go with him when he suggests it. As we were walking hand-in-hand from the car to the theatre, he remarked that we're really lucky we don't have kids, because we get to have a highly extended honeymoon. We could just get up and decide to go to the movies without having to get (or pay for) a babysitter. That's how I've been trying to look at it for a long time--if I can't have the blessings that come with having children, at least I can enjoy the blessings that come with not having children.

I am coughing and hacking up a lung today--I sense yet another upper respiratory infection coming on. Fortunately I already have a doctor's appointment set up for this Friday afternoon so that we can discuss the efficacy of the Effexor (I think he may raise the dosage, because the depression is still pretty severe, but it's better), so it won't be a problem to mention the drainage, coughing, sinus pain, headaches, yadda yadda. I'm hoping to convince him to write me a three-month prescription for the anti-depressants, so that I can get it filled through mail order before our benefits run out at the end of the month. I also hope that when he gets a new job, the insurance will allow us to continue seeing our current doctor, who is just the king of doctors. He's dealt with me through the depression, breast reduction, ADD diagnosis, and nervous breakdowns. We found him back in 1999, when we were starting the proceedings that led up to the IVF, as Joe got pericarditis about the same time I had my first laparoscopy. He was just wonderful, and we've stayed with him since. I love having a doctor that actually listens to me, and doesn't show in my presence how crazy he thinks I am.

I watched about an hour of "Earthsea" last night. I was enjoying it quite a bit, but wanted to go to bed early. Joe told me today that he did finish watching it last night, and liked it a lot. So I am planning to finish it tonight.

Oh, and I almost forgot--I got a letter from ECAP (the teacher certification program I'm hoping to attend this summer) yesterday. They said that I have passed all the preliminary requirements, and just had to do an online interview. I detest doing online interviews, but went ahead and got it out of the way last night. I'm scheduled to take my content area exam on February 18th. So assuming that I passed the interview yesterday and that I pass the exam on the 18th, I'll be all set to attend the job fair in May. Whee!

Seven Deadly Sins: Gluttony

Gluttony

1. What's your comfort food? macaroni & cheese

2. What's the most you've ever eaten? Oh, gosh--I really couldn't say. When I'm both depressed and angry, I can put away massive amounts of food in a ginormous binge.

3. What's your favourite restaurant? El Rancho Grande, in Ft. Worth near the Stockyards.

4. What's the grossest thing you've ever consumed? That depends upon your definition of gross. It could be the Hershey's milk chocolate and Ritz cracker sandwiches I used to eat when I was PMSing, in the days when I still had a uterus. Or it could be the stewed okra and tomatoes I was occasionally forced to eat when I was a kid. I vote for the stewed okra and tomatoes. Urgh.

5. What eating habits disgusts you the most? People who make horrible messes while they're eating, such as putting bones and fat from their meat onto the table, grabbing their glasses with greasy hands, using their hands too much, etc. I find that completely revolting, and if I'm dining with someone who does that, I have to consciously look at something else.

Ramblings

On Saturday night, Liz and I went to the mall for our weekly 1.5-hour walk. Afterward, we saw "The Producers." I laughed my butt off although, unfortunately, not literally. It was just hysterical. On the way home, Liz and I continued quoting some of our favorite lines and laughing hysterically. Late that night, as I was in bed trying to go to sleep, I kept thinking of some lines and again laughing out loud. One of my favorite features were the different play titles produced by Bialystock and, later, Bialystock and Bloom. My favorite is "She Shtups to Conquer." Yes, I will definitely be buying this movie when it comes out on DVD. I have heard complaints that it keeps too much of the theatre ambiance rather than trying to make it a big extravagant movie with loads of special effects. As far as I'm concerned, that contributed to its charm. It was completely unnecessary to add loads of special effects. I've never seen the Gene Wilder version, but plan to rent it when I take back the DVD's I've currently got at home.

I quit using Netflix partly because of the cost and partly because I was no longer in the mood to see a particular movie when it finally arrived. I'm now using Hollywood Video's cheaper version of the program. I can't get the newest new releases, but older new releases and everything else in their library is fair game. I took home "Earthsea," "March of the Penguins," and "The Interpreter." I saw "March of the Penguins" yesterday and liked it quite a bit. I'll get around to the other two movies tonight or tomorrow night.

I'm finding that Sundays exacerbate my depression, for some reason. Yesterday I was almost suicidally depressed again, just as I was the preceding Sunday. It was not a pleasant day.

Joe's company is continuing their games with him. He has one manager telling him that he is getting laid off on the 31st, and another telling him that she is going to find a way to keep him there. I've been tired of their games for quite some time, and apparently he finally has gotten tired as well. He started seriously looking for other jobs, and already has two interviews set up for this week. I picked up a few dress shirts and some ties for him on Saturday, and printed off his resume for him today so that he can get copies made on good paper to take to his interviews. Please keep us in your prayers. I'm making peanuts at my piddling little temp job, and it's pointless to try to find anything else until I find out if I get accepted into the teacher cert program and get a job at the May job fair. If nothing pans out for me at the job fair, I won't be able to start the classes at the teacher cert school. Should that come to pass, I'll go ahead and find a good job and start taking my teacher cert classes online from a university. Doing it the way I'm planning to means only one month with no income; doing it the other way would mean an unpaid internship for a semester. I'd rather do it my way.

So life is as chaotic as usual!

Saturday Six

I don't know why I've been so uninspired lately. So I'm turning to yet another meme. Lame as they can be, at least they get me thinking and writing, right?

1. What is your favorite site to visit on line for fun? http://www.blackmask.com They have tons of free online books to read, that range from the really pathetically lame to the sublime.

2. What are five things you would like to accomplish before 2007? Ha! See, even in memes I cannot escape the whole resolution bit! Okay, five things: finish the first draft of The Telling; get a teaching job; take a month off before starting said teaching job; go to the fantasy writers' convention in Austin in November; and go to Salt Lake City for a visit.

3. Look around right now what are five things you see around you.. what importance do they have to you?

a. A copy of the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead. I love reading it for the imagery the poetry evokes.
b. A small floral arrangement with roses in warm colors ranging from ivory to deep apricot. I love the colors and I love the warmth.
c. A bust of Queen Nefertiti next to a papyrus with a painting of the bust. I think she was an incredibly beautiful woman, and such an enigma. Did she really believe in the Aten the way that her husband did? Was her husband really such a peculiar-looking man as his portraits make him out to be? What happened to her after Akhenaten died? What were the circumstances of her death? So many questions with, as yet, no answers.
d. A dark green glass paperweight. It's beautiful--I don't quite know how to describe it. In the old sailing ships, these green glass shapes were used to bring light into the inner quarters of the ships. My stepfather got this for me on the occasion of my graduating college, and I treasure it for the beauty of it, for the association with achieving a long-held dream, and for the love of my stepfather.
e. A 16x20 mirror with an ornate gold frame. I like it because it fits in with the Egyptian theme I'm using in this room. I also like it because it reflects what I show. If I'm being the person I want to be, then I like what I see in the mirror. When I'm being ugly or hateful, I don't like the person I see in the mirror, and it helps me to calm down.

4. Would you change your middle name if you could?

No, since I rather like my middle name. Besides, I already changed my first name. Well--I didn't change it, exactly, but moved it to a middle spot. Okay, my name used to be Virginia Lee. Back in 2001, I decided my name would be Faith. That's the name I go by most of the time, except with people who are uncomfortable using that and prefer to call me Ginny or Virginia. But I understand and appreciate the reasons that my parents named me Virginia Lee. So instead of replacing the Virginia part with Faith, I decided that I would move it to a middle spot. Both my brother and my sister (from my first family) have two middle names, so now I do as well. Did any of this even make sense?

5. Briefly describe your bedroom.

Our master bedroom is in a state of complete chaos since Joe's in the process of doing some remodeling. So I'm sleeping in the guest bedroom. It's Egyptian themed. The walls are painted a glorious honey-orangeish color. I have matchstick blinds on the windows that will shortly be covered with gauzy white curtains to provide a titch more privacy. I found a fantastic Egyptian wallpaper border that Joe keeps promising to put up for me. I have a mirror (described above); a plaque of Horus; and some prints from ancient tombs that need to get hung up as well. All of my Egyptian books are in a small white bookcase in one corner. The bookcase also holds a small fountain, a bust of King Tutankhamun, some small canopic jars, and some statues made into bookends. The nightstand is made of a reed-type material with black wood trim, and bears a small lamp, a bust of Nefertiti, and a papyrus of Nefertiti in a great gold frame. We have a daybed right now that I'm planning to exchange for a futon when I get the money to buy it; the cover is turquoise satin with gold, purple, and chartreuse accents. I have a lot of pillows and cushions on the bed, and it's slightly decadent. And there is a small reed laundry hamper as well. I've ordered a light-switch switchplate with Isis on it that has yet to arrive. After that, I just need to swap the ugly rug in here for a mat, and it will be finished!

6. When were you last outside, and what were you doing?

Last night, and I was bringing in some picture frames that I had bought earlier in the evening.

Four

Four jobs you’ve had in your life:

1. Interviewer at a market research company. urgh
2. Professional gift wrapper at Sears
3. Nanny/housekeeper
4. CPS investigator

Four movies you could watch over and over: Harry Potter (all of 'em), Better Off Dead, LOTR (all of 'em), and Serenity.

Four TV shows you love to watch: Rugrats, Buffy, Firefly, Jimmy Neutron

Four places you’ve been on vacation: New Orleans, Buffalo NY, Disney World, San Francisco

Four websites you (try to) visit daily: http://www.fborfw.com, to read the daily strip; gmail, to read my email; the blogs listed in my sidebar; and http://www.blackmask.com, to read online books when I get bored.

Four of your favorite foods: cheese & onion enchiladas; shrimp (any way--broiled, fried, scampi); peanut M&M's; meatloaf

Four places you’d rather be: The mountains; the beach; Greece; Paris

Four albums you can’t live without: Only 4? I refuse to answer this question on the grounds of its being totally unreasonable.

Four people you’d tag to play this game: Trista, Wendy, and anyone else who might happen to read this blog!

Self-Improvement

It just occurred to me that my refusal to set New Year's resolutions could be interpreted by some to mean that I'm happy with myself just the way I am, and don't need any improvement. Well, anyone who knows me well knows that's the furthest thing imaginable from the truth. My refusal to set resolutions has more to do with a recognition that they're impossible to achieve. I'm tired of setting unachievable goals. I can't be perfect today by merely deciding to be so, making out a list of everything that must change in order for me to become perfect, and then doing everything on the list.

No, self-improvement is an agonizingly slow process. I tweak something here, tweak something there, take a few steps forward, take a few steps backward. I am very determined, however, and even though I occasionally give up for a season, eventually--if it's important enough--I'll pick it back up.

The relative importance of things does matter. I took a sewing class in home ec back in the 9th grade. Oh, my goodness--you never saw such a disaster. I don't recall what my final grade was, but it cannot have been a good one. The dress I had to make for my final project hung in my closet for years, unfinished, before I finally threw it away. I completely mangled the neckline, and the threads were stitched so tightly that I could not use a seam puller to rip them out without ripping the fabric as well. My husband bought me a sewing machine--at my request--a year before we got married. I sewed one seam of a skirt that I shortly abandoned the making of, and stitched a nightcap that was too small for Joe's head. The sewing machine is still in its original box, in a closet, collecting dust because he won't let me get rid of it. Sewing, to me, is unimportant. I don't enjoy it and I'm not good at it. If there ever comes a time where I can't go to the store to buy clothes, and everything I own disintegrates at once, I could wrap a sheet around myself, go to a friend who likes to sew, and barter some services. She can sew me something to wear, and I can cook for her family. Barring that, well, Adam and Eve were in Eden naked and unashamed. I could emulate the naked part, although I think I'd always be a little embarrassed about it. My naked body is not pretty. Okay, a lot embarrassed. Although perhaps the embarrassment of having to go around naked would help me finally lose some weight. Or not; it could have the result of forcing me to hide in the dark places in the forest so that no one could see me, and I'd grow even fatter due to lack of exercise. And if I weren't shaving, I'd quickly become a yeti and they'd take my picture and print it in the Weekly World News! Whee!

And my joking resolution about not eating oatmeal--well, dangit, I'm 42 years old and I hate the stuff. Why should I keep torturing myself with it? If oatmeal were the ONLY healthful food available, then I'd eat it and deal with it. It's not, though, so I enjoy the satisfaction I feel when I reflect that I don't have to eat that slimy sweetness every morning.

The things that are more important to me relate to my character. Am I a nice person? Well, I don't think I am, particularly, as I have a tendency to be rude and sarcastic when I'm talking to myself. I have a tendency to be judgmental, something that was both exacerbated and ameliorated while I was working for CPS, in some weird way. I tend to forgive others very quickly, but there are some hurts that have gone so deep that I hold grudges against the people who caused the hurts. These are the things I am working on. And I work on it step by step, inch by inch, nanosecond by nanosecond. I don't talk about them, and I tend not to write about them except when I make a leap of understanding and see some real progress. I don't want to cheapen my desire to improve myself in these ways by making the ubiquitous annual resolutions. These are daily goals that I work on constantly, not something that I'm going to make a list of once a year and track my progress until my shame at failure becomes so great that I hide the list and try to pretend like it never existed.

Aarrgghh!!

I love my husband. I really do. Even when he leaves the toilet seat up and I fall into the toilet when I go to the bathroom late at night. Even when he "hangs" his wet towel on my side of the bed. Even when he talks to me when I'm trying to read. I do. I love the guy.

Last night I wanted to beat him into a pulp.

Here's how it started: we were taking dinner over to some friends, where we were going to spend the evening. As we were in the process of loading up the car, Liz called. She'd had a really craptastic afternoon and needed to vent. So she vented and I sympathized, and then we started talking about the research we had each done for the book we're working on now. By this time Joe and I were in the car, and he was driving to our friends' house. I was excitedly telling Liz that our premise completely works, and telling her about the mythology surrounding a particular character we're using. She was excitedly telling me that our premise completely works, and telling me about the mythology surrounding a particular character we're using. We discussed how we can manipulate things, agreed that things are going well, and promised to meet this weekend to review what we've done so far and figure out the next writing assignment. Then I hung up the phone.

Joe started telling me how to write books. He started telling me how to sell them and how not to sell them. Then he started yelling at me because I have an idea for a completely brilliant book that I have not yet written. He wants to know why I'm wasting my time writing other things, when I have this completely brilliant book yet to write. I tried explaining to him that I am not ready to write that completely brilliant book--I've got several years of research and need to hone my craft. He ignored that and kept yelling. Finally I was so angry that I cussed him out thoroughly and told him to shut the hell up because he doesn't know what he's talking about. This is a guy who does not read fiction and does not write. When I pointed that out, he huffily told me he got A's in English in junior college. Cool. Fine. Dandy. He's not a writer. He doesn't know what he's talking about.

For the record, I have one completely brilliant book idea that is waiting on the back burner. It's related to my passion for all things Chaucer. The research alone is taking years. What Joe doesn't get is that the research I'm doing for my other books is also research for my Chaucer book. What Joe also doesn't understand is that the other books I'm writing now are helping me to become a better writer, so that when I am ready to write the Chaucer book, I will have the material gathered and the writing skills honed to do it justice.

There is another completely brilliant book idea that Liz and I will co-write. It's the same kind of thing. We need to have enough money that we can spend a few months driving the back roads of Texas, visiting all the small towns, gathering atmosphere and history. Once we have that, we believe that our character will open up enough for us to pry the story out of her and tell it.

When these books get written and published, people will know my name. They will know my sister's name. That's all beautiful.

But people are also going to know our names from the book we're writing now.

Just because we have some brilliant ideas doesn't mean that we can't have other brilliant ideas. If two stories are not yet ready to be told, why should we not spend time telling those that are ready? And I believe the book we're working on now is brilliant. It has elements that will appeal to a wide variety of people. It's rooted in Greek and Roman mythology, has some incredible characters, and is just a totally cool book.

I managed not to kill Joe last night, perhaps because my friend is also a writer. As our husbands vanished into the music room, Clover and I talked it out and I was able to look at him with equanimity once more.

Until, on the ride home, he told me that my armpits smelled like stinky garlic, admitted that he never listens to anything I say, and accused me of having farts when I didn't. Bless his heart, he can be a real turd sometimes!

Wednesday Mind Hump

1. What's your favorite dish and/or drink that's made in a blender?

Buttermilk milk shake. It sounds kinda weird, but it tastes like a frozen cheesecake, and it's quite yummy.

2. What's the strangest thing you've ever put in a blender, or ever seen put in a blender?

??? I don't recall ever putting anything particularly strange into a blender. I do know that when I was pureeing half a pot of split pea soup (in the days before I got my stick blender), it looked pretty gross, but again, not strange.

3. What kind of day are you having? A chop day (everything's kind of slow and boring so far), a puree day (everything's fast and exciting), a turned-off day (nothing particularly interesting is going on) or a don't-take-the-lid-off! day (everything's a huge sticky mess)?

It's been mostly a chop day. Not much to do, and I did it. I have been a little sick today, probably as a result of too much Tex-Mex last night.

Gosh--how lame am I? In my defense, I've been doing a lot of reading (Terry Brooks, Diane Wynn Jones) and research (Dido, Wicca, Tarot, Magicks, medieval herbal medicine, and dream analysis), and that's kept my mind quite busy. I'm finding that as I'm preparing to delve into fantasy writing, I have to go into darker places than I've been. It seems to me that the contrast between light and dark is greater, and I need to be able to bring that out in my writing. I've made Verity too pliant, too accepting of the tasks that have been thrust upon her. I need to understand more about her and the world that she's been thrown into. And that world is a magical world, and she has powers that I have not yet discovered. Lots o' work to do!!

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things about FAITH 1…. I really like Coke's new flavor, black cherry vanilla. It's extremely tasty. 2. I know it's not Thursday yet, but I'm feeling singularly uninspired re blogging this week. 3. I've been reading a lot of Terry Brooks over the last few weeks. I really like his Word & Void books. I read Running With a Demon last night, after having read its sequel, Knight of the Word a few days previously. They're very good, and I'm looking forward to reading the third book once I lay my hands on it. 4. I now have two books out in e-book format. You can find them at Fictionwise, if you're interested. One is called Faith on Faith, and it's a series of "Lessons of Life" I wrote. The other is called The Treehouse, and it's a YA novel for LDS girls. My sister and I wrote that one together. Both books are very Mormon-y, so I won't be offended if you're not interested! 5. I'm researching fantasy and Wicca and medieval plant medicine, and all kinds of other interesting things, for the fantasy novel I'm working on. 6. I'm also researching Greek mythology and other fun things for the new novel Liz and I are writing together. The series is called The Libris Chronicles. Book One will be The Telling. 7. Liz dreamed that Joss Whedon was teasing us for calling our series "The Book Books" (Libris=book; Chronicles=books). But hey--I'd do many things to get Joss Whedon as a fan of our books! 8. Last night I took Joe to dinner. I was craving Tex-Mex, and we were planning to go to Rosa's Cafe until we saw the completely packed parking lot and the line of cars waiting to go through the drive-through. We ended up at Mi Pueblo--somewhat more expensive, but far fewer people. 9. I read The Wide, Wide World yesterday. It's about as weepy as Elsie Dinsmore, perhaps slightly less religious, and less entertaining. 10. I'm doing well with my New Year's Resolutions--haven't eaten any oatmeal yet! I've done lots of reading, I read my friends' blogs, and I still say rude things when people cut me off in traffic. 11. I really need to go get my hair colored again. My roots are about an inch long, and it's starting to get noticeable. I also need to go get my lip & eyebrows waxed. Why do I go through such torture? Oh, yeah--so my grandniece won't say in a loud, sweet, clear voice: "Why does Aunt Ginny have a moustache?" 12. This month's calendar picture is of Saint Eulalia. Not being Catholic, I had to look her up on the internet to find out why Waterhouse painted a picture of her lying on her back, half naked, in the snow. She was a Christian martyr, and was tortured and killed. Her naked body was thrown into the street, and mercifully covered up by the snow. 13. If you like the Harry Potter books, you might want to check out Diana Wynne Jones. She's written several good books for the YA bunch, and yesterday I found an adult fantasy novel, Dark Lord of Derkholm. I'm approximately 1/3 of the way through the book, and I can recommend it. Links to other Thursday Thirteens! 1. (leave your link in comments, I’ll add you here!)

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Depression

Depression is horrible. It's just horrible. As much as I love words, I don't think I even have the words to describe depression. And what is almost worse than the depression itself is how people around you deal with it. Just today Joe told me to stop being so emotional about everything. I've had people tell me that I just need to cheer up. For someone with major depression, being told to just "cheer up" is like a woman with infertility being told to relax, and it'll happen. I'd like to offer a big, hearty, f-u to everyone who thinks that's the answer to depression.

I had two "major depressive episodes," to use the modern lingo, (nervous breakdowns if you're older) this summer. Having been through them, I know what it feels like. I have this horrible feeling that one is coming on again, and I'm scared stiff. I don't have the money to be able to not work, and spend my days going to therapy and psychiatrists who don't care. I have to go to work to this pissass little job that I hate so that I can make enough money to pay my debts and save up for the few months this summer that I'll be in school instead of working.

I am taking my anti-depressants, and I strongly suspect my doctor will raise the dosage when I go see him next week.

Sometimes, when I get into this dark a place, I wish I could just go completely insane. Just lose it totally, not care anymore, and get put away. Let someone else deal with things for a while. I'm tired of being scared. I'm tired of being strong. I'm tired of having people offer easy solutions for problems they can't even begin to understand. I'm tired. I'm just tired.

Migraine

I woke up with one today. I'm going back to sleep now. Migraines suck!

Exercise & Depression

Yesterday was a truly hellish day. I have monthly reports that are due the first day of each month, and since I've only done them once before, I sort of forgot how to do part of it. And the queue of collectors and the alpha splits were entirely redone, so I spent hours poring over very small print trying to make sure everything got done properly.

I was tired and extremely grouchy. I knew that once I got home I was going to stay there, so I called Joe and let him know that I was going to take my walk before going home. And that's exactly what I did. I got to the mall at 4:15, set the alarm on my cell phone for 5:45, and started walking. I meandered through nearly every store in the mall, looking at cute small-sized clothes, looking at cute shoes and jewelry, looking at housewares, electronics, and accessories. At 5:45, tired and with extremely sore feet (I was wearing grannie boots), I headed home.

This morning I woke up in a beautiful mood! I didn't try to talk myself out of going to work like usual, and when my boss stuck her head in my office this morning to jokingly express her surprise that I showed up today, after such a heinous day yesterday, I was cheerful!

Okay, so this is weird. I have suffered from depression for years, and it has been intense the last few years. My doctor put me on a new med for the depression, and I've been on it for about a month now. I was seeing some improvement, but nothing that impressive. I have read in the past that exercise combined with anti-depressants is supposed to work wonders. Well, if that accounts for how I feel this morning, I'm sold.

My new walking shoes arrived in the mail yesterday, so I brought them along with me. It worked out really well for me to go walking before I went home, and I think I'll keep doing that.

Also, I gathered up my courage and got on the scale this morning. Much to my astonishment, I kept off the weight I lost before Christmas, although I didn't lose any more. So my net weight loss thus far is 10.5 pounds! I'm not doing Weight Watchers anymore--what with Joe doing all the cooking and a tight budget, I decided to let it go. That doesn't mean I'm giving myself blanket permission to eat anything I want; it just means that I'm trying to be sensible and not obsess, and make sure I get plenty of exercise.

Okay, changing topics now. Last night I was watching Nova, and it was an episode about a mummy that had spent some years at a museum in Niagara Falls before being sold to a museum at Emery in Atlanta. It turns out that it is almost certainly the mummy of a pharaoh, and may be the mummy of Rameses I. I was ready to get on a plane to Atlanta to go to the museum until they showed the mummy being flown to Egypt. Joe meandered in partway through the program, and told me that he'd seen that mummy several times, growing up as he did in Buffalo and going to the Falls frequently. I'm so jealous!!! I told Joe that I absolutely must, without fail, go to Egypt, and he told me it's not safe. I then said that I'll go when I'm 90 years old and ready to die anyway, but I am going to go to Egypt sooner or later.

Meanderings

This morning, the news had a segment on how to tell if it's time for you to change jobs. Included on the list were such items as being bored all the time, and not caring if anyone asks you about your job. I sat there and laughed, because I was doing my usual workday routine: talk myself out of going to work, then rush to get ready and go to work. The first part nearly worked this morning, but my better self won out.

The people I work with are, for the most part, extremely nice. The work environment is reasonably pleasant. But I am bored out of my skull here! If it weren't for my plans to do teacher certification classes this summer, I would have asked the temp agency to get someone else in here. There is no way I could do this job long-term. As it is, except for the very few days where there's enough work to actually keep me busy all day, I spend 2/3's of the day reading, studying, writing, blogging, reading other people's blogs, etc. It makes for very long and tedious days.

Moving on to other things:

Joe's turning into quite the chef. Last night he made a chicken and vegetable concoction, seasoned with Indian spices, that was just incredible. The chicken was so tender one could cut it with a plastic spoon. So I turned control of the kitchen over to him. That pretty much means no more Weight Watchers, because he is very liberal with olive oil and butter. But I'm getting into the habit of taking long (i.e., 90 minutes or more) walks, and think that if I'm careful about what I eat otherwise, it will still end up with my losing weight.

It is interesting to note, however, that when I do the cooking, I also have to do the dishes. When Joe does the cooking, I have to do the dishes. How does that figure? And Joe is not a neat chef. He flings things all over the place in his exuberance, and creates quite the mess. Well, if I can manage to convince myself that cleaning up after him constitutes a bit of exercise, maybe that will help me not get too resentful. I have tried, in the past, getting him to do his fair share of the kitchen work. Bless his heart, at the most, he'll do the top layer of dishes, and leave the bottom layer. While we were separated for 2 1/2 months this summer, that's how he functioned. When I moved back home, there was just a ghastly amount of unwashed dishes and some serious stuff growing in the sink. I ended up throwing away all the dishes with the exception of our good cookware and the glass bakeware. Then we just bought flatware and dishes for 4, and bought 4 glasses only. I'm not quite sure why we had so many dishes previously, but we could literally eat for two weeks before running out of dishes and glasses. And I'm really embarrassed that I know that fact!!

We have had extremely dry weather here in Texas, and have been plagued with many fires. The authorities have been getting the word out about the burn ban: the freeway signs indicate there is a burn ban, and the media are also constantly reminding us there is a burn ban. Yet people still flick their cigarette butts out of the car windows. They still lit firecrackers over the holiday weekend. They still burn leaves or trash. Our state is on fire, and these irresponsible people just don't even seem to care. On Sunday there was smoke thick and heavy in the air in our neighborhood. My allergies are acting up horribly (which is why I was almost successful in convincing myself to stay home today) as a result. I hope and pray that we get some substantial rainfall this spring. One might argue, however, that spring has already arrived, after three days of winter.

Joe and I have talked about returning to Utah. If he could make the money there that he does here, we agreed that we'd move back in a heartbeat. I miss my mother and stepfather, miss the climate, miss the mountains. But reality rules, and that reality is that he can't make the money there that he does here, nor could I. So for the foreseeable future, at least, we remain in Texas.

Before I end this post, I must proudly proclaim that I have, thus far, kept 100% of my New Year's Resolutions! It's so much easier when the list includes things I'm going to do anyway, rather than things I have little to no intention of realistically accomplishing!

New Years Resolutions

I hate New Years Resolutions. Every year I make them, only to hide my list three or four days after the beginning of the year. And every year, the list has the same items on it. So if I'm 42 years old, and have made the same resolutions year after year after year after year, then I'm guessing my chances of success aren't too great.

So here are some more practical New Years Resolutions, ones that I'm sure to keep.

1. When someone cuts me off in traffic, I'll say something rude.

2. I'm going to read at least one book per day.

3. I'm going to read Trista's and Krista's blogs every day.

4. I'm going to go to the movies once or twice a month.

5. I won't eat oatmeal for breakfast any more!!

6. I'll watch Rugrats whenever I can.

7. When it gets warm enough to wear sandals, I'll go get a pedicure every payday.

8. I'll write for at least half an hour every day.

9. I'll take a 3-day trip to Galveston this summer with my sister.

10. I'll kiss my husband and my dog every chance I get.

11. I'll go to the fantasy writers convention in Austin in November with Clover, Liz, and Mom.

12. I'll dance when I'm at the grocery store and they're playing good music (or dorky music that I like anyway).

13. I'll tap dance in the copy room when I'm making photocopies at work.

14. When there's good cake around, I'll eat a piece.

15. I'll buy the DVD of "Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire" the day it comes out, and watch it two or three times in a row, and watch all the extras.

Happy New Year, everybody!