Monthly Archives: August 2013

Having an Adderall moment.


Nope, I’ve never been diagnosed with ADHD.  Just having one of those moments where one is in the middle of one tasks, in this case, cleaning out the car, and then, while in the house dropping off a load of stuff, getting side-tracked with “I must find my bathing suit now.

Meanwhile, the car is in the driveway, doors open for the neighborhood to see, just begging to be broken into. 

I’m grateful that I live in a fairly safe neighborhood.  Thank you, God.

Then I see the computer, open it up, and go to, well, here, and then I realize that the car is in the driveway as I previously mentioned.

At any rate.  We’re going camping for a few days to celebrate the last few days of summer.  After Monday, the same old dull routine begins again.  Get the kids up, drive the one to school (at least until we get a car for her), make sure Girlchild #2 is up and at least semi-functional enough to get herself up and out to meet the bus, so I can go to work.

A part of me is looking forward to the routine.  the other part of me is rolling my eyes and saying, “My human slaves will be back in school!  Who’s going to do the chores while I work on my novel?”

heh heh heh.

So.  Yeah.  I’m pretty busy.  I’m supposed to be packing, and I still have no idea where my bathing suit is.  I’ll be away from the internet, so I may write some posts on Word and post them when I get home.

Also, my shirt felt looser today.  Maybe I’m starting to lose weight!

Look! A squirrel!  Wheeeee!



RIP Lacey



Our little nugget passed today. My favorite story about her is the night she escaped from her cage. My daughter woke to a noise and Lacey was next to her on the pillow. She’d stuffed a necklace into her pouch and part of the chain was protruding from her pointy teeth. My daughter then had to gently extract it, completely repelled by the process. Lacey could also stuff whole baby carrots into her pouch. She always, always, always was trying to find a way to escape. I always thought it hilarious to watch her try to gnaw through the bars that formed her home.

You’ll be missed, little Lacey.
~wavy girl~

Thank you!


I would like to thank everyone who has followed me in the past ten days or so.  I really feel kind of welcomed by that.  I’ve followed a few of you as well, but haven’t had time to check out everyone’s blogs yet.  It’s a pretty interesting community here, and I’m just getting started. 

I love to write!  I haven’t liked any of my other blog sites I’ve attempted in the past as much as this one!

Thanks again!


Being Chased in My Dreams


Usually, this is what happens:

The girl, out walking in the neighborhood where she grew up, looks behind her to discover that there are two men following her.  They don’t look especially trustworthy, dressed in the standard black that is common to street thugs (in Hollywood, anyway), and they give off a distinctly ominous aura (in my dream.  In real life I would be completely clueless and they would throw me in their trunk).  She glances back a few moments later, to see that they are gaining on her, so she begins to run.  She hears their heavy shoes pounding the pavement behind her as she frantically looks for a place to hide.  She passes a big bush in front of someone’s yard, and ducks behind it.  This is usually on the street behind her house.  If she can get away from these two characters, and get home, she’ll be safe.  She peeks through the hedge, and sees that the two men have lost her and are wandering around, looking clueless and wondering aloud where she could possibly have gone, despite the fact that they were probably twenty feet behind her when she ‘disappeared’.  Usually they wander down the road, and she escapes unscathed.  Although, sometimes they spot her, and she is on the run again.

I didn’t say it was a good dream, just a recurrent one.  Writing it down isn’t even remotely interesting.  And I get that dreams where one is being chased indicates a subconscious fear/awareness that something in my life is beyond my control.

Anyway, that wasn’t the dream I had last night.  I had a chasing dream but it was more of a finding unintentionally.

I dreamt that there were vampires after the girl (the girl is me in the other dream, but not me in this one, go figure) and her father and brother.  They visited the home of the vampire, and didn’t realize it until it was almost time to leave.  The vampire let them leave, but only to toy with them further.  They ended up coming across the vampire and members of his coven randomly, finding bodies of victims and basically being scared out of their wits.

The dad gets murdered by the vampire, and the brother and sister are sad, but they can’t escape the relentless and merciless chasing of the vampires at that point.  When the two discover that their dad was not merely murdered, but changed into a vampire himself, they start to see what might be in store for them.

I woke up  at that point.  I always do before these dreams come to fruition. 

That being said, I feel like I came to the realization that I’m in the wrong field, working-wise, right now.  The past few weeks have been enlightening, to say the least.  I’m not in danger of losing my job.  Which is good, because if I had to rely on money I make from writing, I wouldn’t even be able to afford the box I would need to live on the streets.  There are some convenient overpasses around here.  But I digress.

Just knowing that I may be doing a job that I’m not entirely suited for, and that I may be doing it for a long time, drains all my energy. 

Hence the dream of being chased.  Not sure what the vampires have to do with it, but I could see my current boss sucking the life out of me. 

Here’s to a better day for  me and all who read this!


I feel defiled and unclean.


After a so-called friend at work made me watch Miley Cyrus’ performance from last night.  OMG.  If that was my daughter…..

Actually, I don’t know what I would do.  Daughters grow up, and at some point, they have to make their own choices, and learn to live with them.  All we adults and normal people can do is shake our heads in disbelief and/or mental anguish. 

She’s a twenty year old.  She’s pretty.  She can sing.  She has her entire life before her.  She has wealth.  She could be using it to get a good education, or experience the world, or donate some to charity (she may be doing some of those things, but I’m not really a fan, so please excuse me if I’m wrong).

Instead, she went out, dressed like a teddy bear with a sex addiction, knowing that she is a role model for young girls, and acted like that on national TV.


To quote Forrest Gump, “That’s all I have to say about that.”

I’d add a photo, but I’m sure you’ve all seen them.  If you haven’t, don’t go looking.  You’ll need a long hot shower and lots of antibacterial soap.  Also, my teenage daughter had to explain to me what twerking was. 

In all seriousness, pray for Miley.  I hope she gets straightened out.  I’d hate to see her become another Lindsay Lohan.


Rocks in Sevierville


Rocks in Sevierville

We went to Gatlinburg a couple months ago. Beautiful scenery, great time to be had with family, and on the far end of Sevierville, after you cruise past all the strip malls and souvenier shops, there’s a little place where you pull off on the side of the road with a barn. They sell random pieces of colored glass and these shelves full of rocks.

I should have gotten the geode bookends while I was there. Oh well. Gives me a reason to go back someday.

Self-Discipline is a Bummer


Who needs to finish a project?

Not me, apparently.

My absolute favorite things to start and not finish are novels (4), cross stitch projects (7), crochet projects (I can’t even hazard a guess), the Bible (been reading a year and a half and still only about halfway through), and anything to do with weight loss  (I’ve gained more than lost).

The bummer thing is that these are all things that I want to do.  I love my novels.  My first one was a romance novel that fizzled before I even hit the climatic point.

The second was a fantasy, with was started in 2001 when I was pregnant with my second daughter, which actually reached a completed rough draft manuscript in 2011 when I was fired from a job (might as well do something while I’m mooching unemployment and searching for a job.  I got so sick of that story after 10 years that I couldn’t stand it anymore.

The third was a story I wrote for my first  NaNoWriMo two years ago.  I took the story into Michigan’s Upper Peninsula and at that point I got writer’s block.  It was about a woman who left her family, just for a time, because they didn’t need her anymore and she was feeling tired of being a slave to their demands, their chauffeur, and their maid.  Never finished.

And now I’m on my 4th and current novel, which started out as a prompt on about a year ago, and I loved it so much, and wanted to find out what happened to the main character that it became my basis for this novel.  The rough draft was completed during last years NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month), and I’m a little over halfway done with the re-write.  I already have a new idea for my next novel for November, so it’s crunch time for me to finish this second draft (more of a re-write, actually) by mid October at least, so that I can focus on something else for awhile.

I also write the occasional bad poem.  My favorite is called The Tension Headache.

Heaviness weighs upon my shoulders
Fingers of tension creep up my neck
Into the base of my skull
Pulling and pulling
Tension stress headache pain
Until I want to scream in despair

But I can’t
Because I’m all grown up
Can’t cry
Because I have failed my dreams
And lost myself
To the drudgery
And repetitiveness
Of life

Picture that written in purple letters, with a bright red background, LOL.  (I could probably replicate that here, but I don’t know how yet)

Anyway, that is my writing life thus far.  I start a writing group in a month for people who are serious about the craft.  It’s taken me 40 years to become serious about the craft, and I’m ready to start finishing stuff.  While working full time and raising 2 daughters.

Now there’s this part of me laughing hysterically, screaming out “Who writes a novel when she has a newborn, or a toddler, or a preschooler.  Or when she’s going to college (Let’s say 2001-2006 were some crazy busy and interesting years)?  I think there’s a few years that I can be forgiven.  and after I graduated, I lost my passion for awhile.  I forgot what it was that I really wanted, and that  came back to me about 3 years ago when I got fired, because I hated myself so much, couldn’t get a job, and wondered if I was really cut out for my field.

Actually, I still wonder that sometimes about my day job.

But I KNOW I’m cut out for writing.

IF I can finish the job.