Greeneyed

      I've tried to live my life without jealousy. Another person's success doesn't diminish me. The only person I'm really in competition with is me. I strive to be genuinely happy when one of my friends makes it good.
      This is part of my moral code. And I do okay with it. It took practice, but now I don't see another person's success and immediately think That should have been me. This is harder for an aspiring writer than you might think. Oh, I'm okay with those excellent writers like Tad Williams, Sara Paretsky, Lois McMaster Bujold, Holly Lisle, Mercedes Lackey, Carolyn Hart, Stephen R. Donaldson, just to name a few. I read their books, and I think Okay, this is good writing. They deserve every bit of success they can get. No, I'm okay with them. It's those bad ones. It's the ones that I read that make me cringe at their ridiculous plots, terrible dialogue and endings so implausible that deux ex machina doesn't begin to cover it, and I see them on the bookshelves or even on the best-seller lists, and I wonder How did they do it? Who did they have blackmail information on? Those are hard to swallow.
      And I'm okay with people making more money than me. I have several friends who have great jobs. No, they actually have careers. And sometimes I feel a twinge when they talk about their new cars, their large homes, their fantastic vacations, but for the most part, I do okay. I love them, and I want them to be happy. If I could go back twenty years, I would choose something different than my useless degree and make some money. But I can't, and looking backward is not productive. I can only go on from here.
      I'm sharing all this because I'm struggling with a particular incident. As most of you know, I've had some financial difficulties over the past few years. My fault for the most part. I've only in the past year finally started to understand how to handle money. And you also know that recently I took out a loan to pay off some high interest credit card debt. The loan didn't help my monthly money crunch as basically I replaced four payments with one large payment, but it does mean that in five years, I should have that debt paid off, God willing. I'm okay with that. I put myself in this hole, and now I'm going to get myself out.
      So ... I have this friend. He's a good friend, but he's had money his whole life. And I mean significant money. His parents were well-off, and now he and his wife are well-off. He has a fantastic paying job as does his wife. He swims in stocks and bonds. Beautiful house, new cars, new boat, etc. And I'm okay with that. He has a different life than me. But the other day -- and I'm ashamed to admit this -- he started talking about going on an island vacation. This vacation will cost roughly $10,000, what with the plane trip, the rental car, the resort rooms, the fishing trip, the jet skis, the meals, the overnight winery side trip, the souvenirs, the photos, the clothes, etc. Oh, he didn't brag about the money, but I could add it up. And during the conversation, he mentioned that I and a girlfriend of mine should come along. Told me that it would only cost three or four thousand if we watched our budget.
      He was excited about the idea of us going along, and I know I should feel pleased that I have a friend that enjoys my company that much. But ... it also made me realize that he truly didn't understand my budget problems. He has had money so long and in such amounts that three or four thousand didn't seem like a lot of money to him. Well, it's a lot of money to me. A lot. Five thousand dollars would significantly reduce the time I'm going to spend paying off my debt. It's not hyperbole to say that an extra five thousand dollars would come close to changing my life. I swallowed my resentment, told him that maybe someday I'd do that and changed the subject.
      May I rant? I know it's wrong, okay. I know I should just be happy for the blessings in his life. He's my friend. But. BUT. When someone is walking in the desert, don't be telling him about your swimming pool. It's small of me to even think it, but give me a break. I can endure my reduced situation, I can survive, I can even flourish. And I do have so many blessings that many people in this world do not have: a warm house, food on my table, clothing and so on.
      So I know better, but I couldn't stop from myself from feeling angry, from feeling resentment, from wanting to cut him down to size. I'm ashamed to admit it, but there I was. It took me a few hours to get over it, but later that afternoon I called him and told him that I would print out some maps from the Internet where they were going so they'd know how to get around. He's computer illiterate and acted like I was doing something amazing. I also told him about a really good buy on a video camera I'd seen. I'm going to go Saturday and help him pick one out as he and his wife have wanted one for a while.
      I don't know what this makes me. A better person wouldn't have felt envy in the first place. Or maybe someone else would have taken it as a personal challenge and redid his or her life. I don't know. I'm just rowing my boat as fast as I can, bailing out the water as much as I can and looking to the misty horizon.

This and that and a few other things

      Other than getting my 500 words (actually 1,000 this evening) and working on my family newsletter, I spent the rest of the time updating the web page for the local community theater. I added a photo, cleaned up some links, fixed the scrollie, added a counter, and then played with various color schemes. I've decided that I will update the page only once a week, usually on Wednesday. That way I can train people to get their material to me -- always supposing they will ever submit any.
      On this blog, I added a few more blogs on my Blogs of Interest, including Event Horizon, Narcissusworks, Rantings and Ravings for Twilight (Hi, Jean!) and Smith & Stephenson. I particularly like Rantings and Ravings for Twilight and Narcissusworks. Check them out! (I used the linkdomain: command to discover who was linking to me. I didn't know these were. Imagine my delight to find them and also to find that they all featured good writing. Cool.)
      I finished one of my meds tonight and have just a few more days on the others. I'm feeling much better. My IBD doesn't like the meds, but I can deal with that.
      I appreciated the nice comments on my little poems of yesterday's entry. When I teach one of my poetry classes, I always assign three haiku. Students find them easy, and it makes poetry less intimidating. I love poetry, completely and foolishly, even though I know it will never make me much money. With one article to OKMagazine, I made more money than I've ever made in my poetry.
      This lack of financial rewards turns a lot of writers off poetry. In fact, I had once thought about teaching a poetry class at Forward Motion. Some people seemed interested until we started talking about the no pay part. A couple members gently explained that writers at FM wanted to make money. I certainly understand that, but I think poetry is a way of playing with language, of learning how to make every word count. It benefits everyone from novelists to journalists, even if it doesn't directly bring in the coins. I know I'm preaching to the choir. Most of my readers write and/or read poetry. Y'all are simply top notch, but some of you need to blog more. You know who you are ...
      And on that nagging note, I'll say good night.

Cleaning house

      Been cleaning house. I guess you know what that means in terms of the book. Sigh. I got my 500 words, but I don't like them. They're okay, but they don't have the thrust that they need to have. And I had to drop the well scene for now. I haven't remembered what I intended. Yet.
      I hope everyone is doing okay. I'd like everyone to blog more, but I think I might have to just endure. That or find more blogs to read. No, y'all just blog more.
      A few changes to this blog that I haven't had a chance to mention. I added Holly's Silent Bounce to my blogs of interest, and below that, I added a new section of links that feature various cartoons I enjoy. I hope you will, too.
      My foot is doing much better. The week of bed rest -- however uncomfortable the illness made it -- helped it a lot. And I'm mostly over my illness, still taking my meds, but doing okay. Not quite healthy, but near enough to see daylight. And I appreciate feeling better. It's something you take for granted until you lose it. Something to remember in all sorts of things.
      And now for something different.

Haiku Us

Bare skin in moonlight
moves in patches of shadows
leaving me breathless.

One day I will sit
bold at your table of love;
crumbs won't be enough.

When we said I do,
you really meant you didn't
so I don't either

Copyright 2005. All rights reserved.

ACK!

      I don't have my 500 words yet so I can't write much here. I haven't written since Sunday last week, and the words refuse to flow. I have my characters staring into a well. Yes, a well. I don't know why. I had an idea back before I got sick, and now it's gone. My characters found this old mossy well in the Wilderness near an abandoned farmhouse. The water is clear and cold. But they don't need water. What was the point of this sidetrip? What? My characters think I've lost my mind. My characters might be right. They're staring at me. I think they'd snicker at me, but the last time they did that, I had them attacked by Haunts. Don't mess with the author. But I sure wish I could remember what I intended to do with that well. Gotta get back to it.

Fever dreams

      It's been a strange week. It's been years since I've been as ill as I have been these past few days. I'm doing better now. Not right, but much better. I won't have to go to the hospital unless I take a downward turn, but I haven't had a temperature since noon yesterday. Well, I obviously have a temp, but a normal one, I mean.
      Those days of fever induced a weird state in me. I just huddled in bed and thought of nothing, staring at the books in my shelves, their titles carrying no meaning, their stories no attractions. Sometimes I can get sick, and it's a time to read books, watch old movies, and generally pamper myself like a French king. This wasn't one of those times. Instead, I watched the ceiling until I'd fall into fever dreams.
      Dreams are important to most writers I know. An amazing number of them seem to suffer from night terrors or they sleepwalk or they have incredibly vivid dreams, ones that have plots and invoke emotions. Many times I've woke up feeling hurt by something a loved one said in my dreams. Or angry or sad at events that only happened in nighttime fantasies. And sometimes I've awakened terrified by darknesses made tangible.
      Fever dreams affect me differently, though. They last longer, but they have no plot, no story. I drifted through images of my past and different presents and maybe a few dark futures. Dead people appeared and talked to me, including my grandfather on my mother's side, a man I never met in this life. Not zombies, but as if they were alive, somehow all jumbled together in an old country house that I've never been at but know down in my bones. There was sunlight that was too bright and deep cool shadows and an endless summer. A table and Southern singing and kids that shot through the rooms like blurs. Like a family reunion except it went on all the time. I drifted through this, untouched, an unresponsive observer, burning with heat. Sometimes people spoke to me. Sometimes they hugged me or touched me. Most of them I didn't know.
      Whatever wisdom they might have told me didn't stick; unlike my regular dreams, these faded, leaving only snapshots, like old black and white photos. I was there and yet not there, watching me and being me at the same time. Eventually I'd wake up and be sick or take my medicine or stare at the ceiling some more until the dreams took me again.
      I don't read much into dreams at the best of times, certainly not when I'm sick. Dreams, for all their energy and life, are not indications of the future. Most of the time, they don't mean anything. A few times, they can indicate fears or an overflow of stress. I use images from them in my novels, plays and poems, but I don't expect them to be more than a source of creativity.
      Last night, I had regular dreams. The usual jumble of images and actions, the nonsensical plots that only make sense while your eyes are closed. It's a sign I'm getting healthier, helped by your prayers and well-wishes ... and those Victoria Secret models that Joel sent.

Update

      I'm sorry I've been gone so long. I have been and continue to be terribly sick. The doctor thought it was the flu at first, but today he told me that he thinks it is something else, although he's not sure what as my lab tests are coming back inconclusive. I got new medicine and am hopeful that it will make a difference. If I'm not better by Monday, the doctor said he would have to put me in the hospital. I appreciate your well-wishes and thoughts. Please continue to keep me in your prayers.

Miserable

      Miserable sums up my day. Looks like this illness is going to linger a bit, but I do think I felt a little better today. I didn't get much sleep last night due to coughing, but I've got some new drugs so I hope to get decent sleep tonight. I think that would go a long way to making me feel better. Thanks to everyone who sent me well wishes and gave me medical advice. I've taken most of it, particularly the chicken soup with garlic (tasty, too) and the vitamins. I barely got my 500 words, but I got them. So good night all!

Cold

      My cold has stripped me of my voice, and my swollen throat hurts like blazes. I staggered to the computer, got my 500 words and then staggered back to bed. That's pretty much my whole day except for a bit of email and instant messages this afternoon. I'm popping Vitamin C like it's candy. I'm going to do a shot of NyQuil and call it a day. Night!

A bridge to cross

      I spent the evening working on the new web page for the drama group only to discover that the server wouldn't let me upload any of the changes. Sigh. I saved everything on my hard disk and will work on it tomorrow afternoon.
      I have developed a sore throat and lost my voice almost completely. I've gargled with warm, salt water and wrapped my throat with a scarf. Do you know of any other home remedies that work? Please share.
      A friend of mine brought up an interesting question the other day. He wanted to know how I would react when I lost my anonymity on this blog after my book was published. Hmm. Of course, a lot of people who comment on this blog already know me. Crystal and I have known each other since the fifth grade, ER and I almost as long. I went to college with Randall, Powersleeper and Amberclear. I met CJ and Texan Susan when I moved to my town, although Susan has since moved to the Gulf of Oklahoma. Thus a fair number of people already know my secret identity of Bruce Wayne ... I hadn't thought much about it before he mentioned, and I told him that I would worry about it after I sold the book.
      But his point is well taken. Authors have to promote their work. It puts their names and their lives out there. Most fans are cool, but you always have those trolls and weirdos. Authors have to put up with a lot, including folks asking for their publishing help. I figure authors have enough on their plates as it is. I don't attempt to contact published authors. I've gone to book signings to get their books signed, but I don't attempt any conversation more than that. I think it's rude and pushy.
      Some authors do help others to get published. It's major cool when they do so, but it should be their choice. They shouldn't be hounded into it. Just because they write a book we like, doesn't mean we own them. I've read horror stories on many authors' sites, including one Oklahoma author who had to contact the FBI for her safety. Some people are just plain weird.
      But how will I react when that time comes? Well, according to my nature, I guess, and to the best of my ability. But that's a bridge I'll cross when I get to it and not before. Night!

Time don't mean a thing if you got that swing

      As most of my regular readers know, I chose to cut back on many of my other activities to concentrate on my writing. That meant saying no to the various groups that asked me to be on the boards or be a member. There are only so many hours in the day and night. To reach my dream, I need to write now, right now.
      But no man is an island, no matter how big our thighs might get, so I kept my memberships active in a few groups, once of which is a theater group. I serve on the board, not much of a hardship as we only meet once a month. And the group has performed two of my full-length plays, giving both much needed shakedown performances. I hope they will perform my new play Figments this summer or next fall.
      The board has been talking about creating a web site for a few months, and finally I volunteered to do it. This is where you shake your head and think, He's just not very bright, is he?
      Working with a committee or with any group of people is harder in many ways than doing it on your own. In this case, I mostly had free rein, but getting an account for the group seemed to take forever as we negotiated back and forth with local providers to get our access donated for us.
      Finally this Monday, we received our web space, although it took until yesterday to get our space registered with the service. Last night I put the page online. Whew. Truthfully it's a fairly simple page, mostly because I'm a fairly simple person, almost a simpleton even (just wanted to beat you to the punchline). But I can already tell that it's going to take some work.
      Oh, not the page itself, but getting the content from the various people to put on the page might be a bit rough. Fortunately the president of the theater group is a no-nonsense, let's get it done person. So I have an ally.
      The curious thing about this is that my writing has improved while I've worked on that page. I mean, I'm getting way over my 500 keepable words. Somehow working on the web page woke my creativity back up. The works have flowed. I've been able to meet my goals and go beyond them. When that jazz touches you, writing is like swing dancing. For me, nothing touches that feeling when words come out gold and you feel like you can go on for hours. It's rare enough in my life that when it happens, I try to write non-stop, giving up sleep if necessary.
      All of this is just to tell you why I didn't blog last night. But I will twice today to make up for it! Gotta to get ready for work now. Talk to you later.

Paper chase

      One of the reasons I'd like to have a larger house is so that I could have an office. Currently I occupy a small corner of my small living room. But I'd like a space where I could spread my book out in nice neat piles. Even though my current book is a fantasy, it's amazing the amount of research and notes that it requires. I lose a lot of time as I shuffle papers, look for things and generally drive myself batty as I chase paper around my living room.
      I try to keep research on the computer as much as possible, but that leads to ten or 11 or more documents open at one time. Yikes. I sometimes get lost.
      Which is where my characters are -- lost in the Wilderness. Notice the capital letter on Wilderness. I want it to be wild, to deserve that capital, to deserve the fear it creates in most people. So far, I have ghosts, tribes of wild wandering elves, deserted farmhouses and lots of bodies. But it needs more. I thought of wolves but rejected that as a lot of fantasy books have wolves, and I can't think of a new wrinkle for them. So we'll see what happens next. Sadly enough, I'm confident in my subconscious's ability to produce a few more nightmares.
      Gloria asked yesterday how I know what words are "keepable" of my writing. I thought about that a lot today, and I don't think I really have a definite answer. I guess I'm guided by instinct and logic. Logic tells me if it makes sense, and instinct tells me if it's interesting. The second part is most important. As a reader, I will forgive a bit of illogic, but if you bore me, I'll put the book aside and move on. There are too many good books in the world for me to waste my time on a boring one. I figure my readers will be same. They don't want to be bored. Of course, I'm hoping my writing will be both logical and interesting, but my readers will make that determination.
      Speaking of readers, I will be looking for a few first readers when the whole blamed mess is finished. Crystal has already volunteered herself, and I hope to find a few others (hint, hint, hint) who will read the book and catch those inevitable errors before I send it off to another agent and/or publisher. Now, don't worry; you have at least until July to decide if you can do it. And this reminds of one of the nicest compliments that I have received on the book. Crystal was reading an early version to help me during my mad scramble to get it to the interested agent. She told that she kept getting caught up in the story and forgetting to look for errors. That was major cool to hear. Thank you, Crystal. Night!

A few things that actually work for me

      IBS/IBD has been around for a while. Long enough that they've collected their share of dubious home remedies. They range from pinching your left earlobe with a spring clamp to having mineral water enemas daily to smoking marijuana. All of these apparently work on the idea of giving you something else to think about: pain, bathroom proximity and the new terribly close friends you'll make in jail.
      Over the years, I've found a few things that actually work for me. As far as I know, none of my regular commenters or visitors have either illness, but I thought I would share what I found since they might work with any upset stomach.
      Chamomile tea: That's right. The darling of herbalists and old ladies everywhere really does calm my stomach. I'm sipping a hot cup of it now. One teabag per cup with a teaspoon of honey or sugar. Just call me Emily and hand me a finger sandwich.
      Peppermint oil: You can find this at your local health food store in expensive tiny capsules, but I prefer to buy cheap candy canes, break off a small piece and drop it into my chamomile tea. Peppermint has been given to people for centuries to calm their nerves and stomachs. You can also find peppermint tea, but it hasn't worked for me. (A friend of mine once tried shots of Peppermint Schnappes to settle his stomach. He woke up three days later in Mexico. Married. But he and Rosa Maria Isabel Lucita Pilar are very happy together. True story.)
      Environment CDs: Stress influences IBS and to a lesser extent IBD. I've found that ten or 15 minutes a day of what I call drifting helps cut down on the frequency and duration of my IBD flares. To aid in this, I listen to compact discs of recorded nature sounds. One of my favorites is a tape named Bayou, but I also enjoy Echoes of Nature, which features ocean waves, morning songbirds, tropical rainforest, wilderness rivers and so on. (I've also used these to simulate the enviroments that the characters in my books adventure in. Sound is often neglected in books as is smell. Adding both makes descriptions more vivid.) The point of this drifting is to think of nothing but the sounds. Let your mind be unfocused and empty. Just imagine you're a Congressman and it will be easier.
      I hope these are helpful for you. They have been for me. Night!

Handsome little Mikey in his church clothes.
© 2005. All rights reserved.

The real enemy

       It might seem that the enemy of my writing is other books. Tad Williams, one of my favorite fantasy writers (I like him so much that I have all his books in hardcover), just released a new book. Shadowmarch comes in at 656 pages. They will be exciting, good pages, but it takes a time to read a book of that size. Also waiting on my shelves is Jack McDevitt's Polaris. McDevitt writes the best space opera out there. Of course, it's only 370 pages, but that takes a few hours, too. And let's not forget Stephen R. Donaldson's The Runes of the Earth. Sigh. So many good books, so little time.
      Writing takes time. This is only a surprise to those people who watch Jessica Fletcher cross the nation, solving murders right and left, and who believe she still manages to write a bestseller every two months. (Most people don't realize that Jessica is actually a serial killer. No, seriously think about it. Isn't it suspicious that at least one person dies everywhere she goes? I sure wouldn't invite her to my house for the holidays.) In real life, what with all the trials and traveling, she'd have no time to write.
      I have a goal of 500 keepable words a day. That takes me on a good day about an hour or so. On a hard day like today, two or three hours. Oh, the words aren't hard, but getting them right is. I realize that 500 words doesn't sound like much, but try it sometime. It's harder than you think. But 500 words a day will add up to 182,500 words a year. That's two books or about seven plays.
      Naturally if I didn't have my day job, I could write more. For a while. Until I starved.
      So the real enemy of writing is anything that takes time away from it. Oh, I'm not saying you shouldn't read good books (because you need to if you're going to learn) or that you should write and ignore everything else in your life (because you end up lonely and sad) or that writing should be the most important thing in your life (because it shouldn't be if you're going to make it through this world with love and some sort of grace), but it should be high on your list of priorities. If it's not, you're not going to write. Because we all have a limited amount of time to spend. And how we spend it will determine what we accomplish. Nothing else will.
      That's daunting, but also encouraging. Daunting in the realization that time is all we have, but encouraging in that we get to decide how we want to spend it. I want to spend as much as I can of mine writing. What about you?

Woohoo!

      Have I mentioned Holly Lisle before? She's the author of several fantasy books that I like a lot. (The World Gates series is my favorite, and I'm hoping more will be written soon. It has an interesting and intelligent approach to magic and lots of excellent plot surprises.) Her website is in my Authors links. She also founded the writing community Forward Motion (in the Writing links), although she has retired from that to concentrate on her own writing.
      Holly Lisle has a blog called Silent Bounce that you can reach from her website. I stop by there every couple of days. Her blog (which doesn't allow comments for good reasons) shares the thoughts and trials of a working author. It's worth stopping by if you're interested in the creative process, and I think all writers are. We want to understand why we do the things we do and how to do them better.
      Anyway, somehow -- and this is what has excited me -- I missed that she added 51313 Harbor Street to her links! I noticed it a few minutes ago. A link to 51313 Harbor Street on her page! My little blog got listed by a real published author. Listen, I'm going to have the big head about this for days. I'll have to walk sideways through doors. I'll have to buy hats from a blimp company. I feel faint; I might swoon ... Okay, maybe not, but it's major cool, and it gave me a much needed boost today.
      And now I should take this time to plug Forward Motion, an incredible free resource for authors, particularly if you like discussing writing and its many aspects. It offers writing articles, discussion boards, writing challenges, critique groups, chat and lots more. (A word of caution: While I'm a member and read the boards two or three times a week, I'm not active in it because I found that chatting there took more time from my writing than I was willing to give up. If you're more disciplined than me [and who isn't?] you might not have a problem with that.) The people there work at being supportive for the most part, and FM polices trolls and other no-do-goodniks. You can spend days reading all the boards and good advice contained therein. Stop by and take a look.
      More later! But woohoo!

A ten-minute post

      I have ten minutes before I need to go to bed so that's how long I'm going to type. Let's see how much I can tell you in that amount of time.
      I spent most of the weekend taking care of Mikey. We had a great time. He's a funny, sweet child. It's such fun to watch him learning things and figuring out the world. There's also something bittersweet in it as I hate for him to grow up. He wore his first tie to church today just like his Papa's. I told him that he looked handsome. He smiled and said, "I do."
      My roommate took him home to his mother this evening, and then I spend the rest of the time putting away his toys, doing dishes, doing laundry and getting ready to go to work tomorrow.
      My computer is functioning. Some programs need to be reinstalled still, and the system is still having problems. But Word, Publisher, AOL and Internet Explorer are working, and they're the ones I need for my writing projects. I'll start saving, and maybe by summer, I'll have enough saved to buy me a new one. That's the plan.
      I had an ugly confrontation with a credit card company that I had paid off with my loan. They send me a $79 bill for finance charges. I called them up and asked, "I paid my balance and paid long before it was due. Why am I being charged this?"
      Their answer was that the balance didn't take into account finance charges that were added after they sent the bill to me and before I paid it off. And here's the kicker: If I paid the balance on the new bill, I'd get another bill because once again, the finance charges would be added.
      So how do you pay them off? I quote the account rep: "You send us more money than the balance and then we send you a refund if there hasn't been any charges on the card for three months."
      I hit the roof and went through two account reps and finally got a supervisor. He told me, "I'll remove the charges, but you shouldn't expect us to do this in the future. Your account has no grace period." I thought to myself, don't worry, buddy boy, I won't be using that card ever again. As soon as they remove the charges, I'll be canceling that card, something I had intended to do all along.
      I've been doing quite a bit of editing on Dragons Gather. I've fixed a lot of the plot problems and have a better idea on how to proceed. The basic problem was that I hadn't made it tough enough on characters. They need more perils, more dangers, more arguments, more tension in their wild race to escape their foe. I think I know how to provide that.
      Time's up. Good night all.

Of halibut and other things

      Been sick, been having computer problems, been baby sitting, haven't been blogging. But I got told tonight that when I don't blog, it worries people. So I'm blogging so you won't worry. I'm only thinking of you. What a considerate guy I am. Just a saint or something like a saint but with none of that inconvenient goodness and morality.
      Ahem.
      Recently someone asked me how I consistently came up with these hilarious, intelligent, wise, heart-warming, inspiring, cheery and witty posts. (I'm just quoting.) I will tell you right now that I am simply gifted. If you buy that, then I will also sell you some expired lottery tickets.
      Truthfully I suspect my output -- such as it is -- is connected to the warped way I look at the world. My mind is given to literal fantasies, if you can follow that, but if not, don't give up. An example follows so just calm down.
      For instance, suppose someone tells me that his or her heart raced like mad. For most people, that would simply mean that the person speaking was excited. But my mind instantly imagines a heart riding on a horse, the reins held by its little veins and arteries as it spurs its horse to the finish line. Then I have to wonder what it's wearing its spurs on. And what weirdo would make the spurs for a heart, anyway? And spurs need boots ...
      I can while away hours doing this, hours that I should be spending losing weight, cleaning my car, stalking Lucy Lawless, cataloguing my ear wax collection, etc., all the fairly normal activities of someone who was dropped on his head just a few too many times when he was a baby by his jealous siblings, but that is another story and is neither here nor there, but somewhere around Albuquerque.
      Another factor is that I like language, particularly funny words. Like halibut. Now, that is a funny word. Just say it over and over to yourself. Halibut, halibut, ha-li-but. Come on. You're not doing it. Halibut, halibut ... We're not going to continue until you do. Okay, that's better. Isn't that a great word? Next week at work, just say, "Good halibut," instead of "Good morning," and when people ask you how you are, just answer, "Perfectly halibut." Your whole day will be filled with humor, topped off by getting a nice, white coat that will button in an odd way.
      It also helps that we live in a funny world. Well, peculiar is probably the word I should use there, but funny works, too. You can find humor in most things non-Republican, and even Republicans have been known to crack a smile when an endangered species finally croaks. I find that you have to laugh at some things or you will spend all your time weeping and wailing. Frankly, sackcloth itches, and ashes only get in your eyes, and you can quote me if you are so inclined and wish to send me money since this post is copyrighted 2005.
      As for the number of ideas, those come because I read a lot and am interested in almost everything that you can legally be interested in. Right now, I am reading a book on hyperspace, a Southern Sisters murder mystery, a computer book, a book on Biblical archeology and a book on how to have a second date when the police got called on the first one. This gives me a lot of fodder for humor cannons.
      I am also somewhat a klutz in the way that President Clinton was somewhat a liar. I can trip over lint in the carpet and have even stumbled due to the pressure of air molecules. This leads to those wonderful experiences that make great stories afterwards -- Remember the time I fell on the large nun who has holding her pet cat and she threw it in the midst of all those pre-schoolers who were eating chocolate ice cream? -- but are painful when they happen.
      I also have the rare talent of being able to insert both of my feet in my mouth and occasionally have needed to borrow the feet of passing strangers just to fill up that cavernous space that persists in embarrassing me. And no, I will not print any examples. There are enough stories wandering around about me as is.
      And finally it helps that my family is made up of such strongly individualistic people. Not only do we march to a different drummer, but we have often marched to an entirely different band than the rest of the world, a band made up of flutes, kazoos, tubas and perhaps a halibut or two.

I can't even coordinate my clothes ...

      Recently I took a trip ... a short one which ended with me flat on my back in front of the post office, listening to people ask, "What is he doing?" as if I might not have had an accident but just chose a strange place to rest.
      The story: I was at the post office, walking down the steps, looked to the side at something that caught my attention, stepped wrong and fell on the ground and then rolled over to lie on the concrete and look up at the immense sky and wonder why I was not blessed with better coordination and sharper reflexes. (This is when I fractured my foot.)
      I also wondered how long would it be before the numbness wore off and I began to feel the results of my fall. I was hoping for unconsciousness before that happened or maybe even a trip to the emergency room where they would give me pain pills and I would meet a cute unmarried nurse who would see my pitiful but brave face and fall instantly in love with my stunning blue eyes, but no such luck.
      I'm a big boy, and my falling should have happened in slow motion, like the felling of an ancient redwood that still has its leaves although it has fewer than when it was younger and now must go to a leaf stylist to get rid of that unattractive gray. Instead, I fell quick, hit hard and got up after a moment, more embarrassed by the fall than worried about the damage I might have taken. (Later of course, my foot would demand my attention, and the doctor would take my money.)
      I can walk and chew gum at the same time, but it takes concentration …chew, step, chew, step, chew, step ... and heaven forbid I encounter steps or I simply have to spit, climb and then get a new piece of gum. Depending on the terrain, a pack of gum will last about 15 minutes. When I have a real hankering for Big Red, I sit down, pull out a pack and have a nice long chew. It’s peaceful and will doubtless prepare me for my nursing home days.
      But it's not age that is sapping my coordination. I remember as a young child taking music lessons and having my teacher cover my hands with hers as she attempted to get my fingers to press the right keys at approximately the right time. After one particularly harrowing 30 minutes, my piano teacher -- sweat running down her face, hair in disarray, eyes squinting from strain -- asked my mother if my cord had got tangled while I was being born and my brain hadn't received enough oxygen.
      Not having that eye-hand link, I was dismal at sports. I could only dribble down my chin and thus was no use to the NBA. I did make a brief foray into football in the sixth grade when I suited up on a dare. The coach watched me throw, hike and kick, and then placed me on the line in front of the largest opponent out there, apparently deciding to use me as cannon fodder. This backfired on him as I have always been polite and would step aside to allow huge homicidal players past me. My team never appreciated this fine point of etiquette.
      My sports career might have ended there, except in the seventh grade, it was discovered I could run long distances and only have a small heart attack afterwards. My arms would flail, elbows would circle in strange orbits, feet were all over the place, chin would bob -- a strange uncoordinated mess that reminded onlookers of a headless chicken receiving electroshocks. But somehow speed would result. I wasn't good in short distances -- by the time I got wound up, the race was over -- but I could actually run a mile in a decent time. (This amazes me as I look back because I can't imagine running a mile now unless I was chasing an ice cream truck.)
      My school, though, didn't have much use for track since it was only used to get ready for football. Now it has track, tennis and probably space equestrian events, but back then, I was out of luck. Or perhaps not. I remember running across the pasture, from one end of our land to the other, wind whipping across my face, my body a rushing mass of motion. I felt like I was flying. Since I had enough coordination for that, I guess I should be content with the memory now.

Oh well

      Ouch. USC played great. We didn't. That's that. Well, there's always next year. That's the life lesson from football. You might lose this time, but there's always next season. Boomer Sooner!

Yikes!

      It's half-time, and things are looking bad for the Sooners. USC is playing great football, and we're not. Gotta hope our boys play better the second half. Even if we lose, I want it to be a good, tight game.
      It's amazing the number of commercials in this game. The advertisers are getting their money's worth. The commercials just keep coming. I wonder what the cost of a spot was in the game. I'm sure it didn't get close to the Superbowl's price per spot, but I bet it's up there. I Googled the question, but couldn't find any info on it.
      Game is about to come back on. Go Sooners!

BAH!

      Bah to stinking Microsoft Windows and their terrible customer support! May a thousand poxes descend upon their wretched forms and torment them mercilessly day and night until madness reigns free in their tiny, unhelpful, rude minds!
      Ahem. I am a bit upset. My computer problems continue. It does not seem to be a hardware problem, rather one brought on by those endless updates that Microsoft sends out. Or maybe not. It's impossible to tell. I'm beginning to think that my computer has been possessed by an evil spirit. I'd sacrifice a Microsoft Customer Service Rep to it if I thought it would help. (It would help my feelings!)
      I've been pricing new computer systems. Sigh. To get what I need, I'm going to have to spend $600 or so. I know that's an amazing price considering how expensive computers were a few years ago, but when you don't have money, $600 is as impossible as $1,500. And then two major software programs that I use will have to be upgraded (Another $200) as the versions I have won't work with XP. (I still use Windows ME. Yes, I know, I know, I should upgrade. Got an extra $100 you'd like to send me? No, wait, I need $300 to upgrade Publisher, Elements and XP. Arggghhhh! And there's no guarantee that XP would even fix the problems I'm experiencing.)
      Okay, enough whining. It's still continuing to limp along. It's going to last a few more months if I'm careful with it. I'll start saving now, and maybe by July, I'll have enough to buy a new computer. Or upgrade. Or maybe just run away.
      Moving on. Since the movie's been mentioned in various blogging buddies' blogs (Say "blogging buddies' blogs" fast three times. Do you do everything I tell you to do?), let me also say that Love Actually is great. Crystal told me about it first and then Three&Eight. Both raved about it. I watched it a few weeks back. A great movie. Smart, funny, well-acted and filmed. I could have done with a bit less cussing, but hey, it's the Brits, and they talk that way. Especially the Queen. She's a potty mouth.
      Speaking of my foot -- I know we weren't but we are now so keep up -- it's doing okay, I guess. It lets me know frequently that I'm not following the doctor's orders (keep it elevated and don't walk on it for a few weeks, but hey, I have a job, and they frown on me not being here) but I'm being as careful with it as I can be, and it's doing better. I have some stretching exercises and use hot and cold packs for it, and I think it's going to work out. Or fall off.
      OU will be playing for the National Football Championship tomorrow night. Naturally I will root for OU. I support OU vigorously except when they play OSU and then I want them dead. We OSU fans are loyal to our school in all cases, even when our team plays a Bowl game so bad that it makes us weep -- not that I wept the other night as OSU went down in terrible defeat. I just wandered around the neighborhood wailing and tearing my hair and clothes.
      And on that note, good night.

      I ate my black-eyed peas and my greens for good luck, but my stupid computer still crashed hard Saturday night. Sigh. At least if I have to buy a new one, they're fairly cheap right now. The nice thing is that I already have all the accessories so I don't have pay for a printer, monitor, USB hub, scanner, etc. I'm still hoping that I can keep this one going a while longer. I'm just now beginning to see some daylight in the gloom of my debts. I'd hate to have to add to it now.
      A non-computer friend doesn't understand my urgency about the computer. For her, it's just a box that she does a bit of email on. But for me, it's a major part of my life. I use it for writing, producing my monthly newsletter, for music, for my digital camera, etc. Without it, I can hardly function. I don't want to borrow trouble, though. Maybe the system reinstall will fix the crazy thing. (Does anyone out there have an AMD processor on their computer? I can find an AMD-based machine for about half what the Intel systems are, so I'm interested on how well they work. Let me know your thoughts on them.)
      In other news, there's not much. I made a few resolutions, the usual: lose weight, write more, get out of debt, etc. We'll check back with me on them in February. Tomorrow I return to work, in some ways a bit depressing because the holidays are over and I dread the piled-up work and the irate customers, but it will be nice to get back to a routine. (This feeling will only last until I'm yelled at by a customer. An important thing that I've learned: Not only is the customer NOT always right, many times they're completely crazy.)
      Speaking of resolutions, one of them is to focus more on my writing. Thus I need to close this and get to typing. Adios!

While waiting

      I don't wait well. Never have. Don't expect I will ever learn how. When I know something is coming, I want it to be here now. I'm one of those annoying people who are on time and are quite willing to start the party without the late arrivals.
      Most of this impatience springs from my low boredom threshold. I have the attention span of a gnat on speed. Well, really a mosquito on speed. I want to land, get to the marrow, drink my fill and then go. When I'm interested in something, I'm interested. Those around me during an obsession have learned that it's safest to just indulge me and get out of the way. I'll be back soon.
      These obsessions have led me to all sorts of various crafts, arts and hobbies, including stage magic, comic books, candle making, role-playing games, drawing, art, lasers, hovercrafts, chemistry, computer programming, book binding, origami, coin collecting, physics, sword fighting, yoga, tai chi, guns, knives, archery, model rockets, aquariums, fountains, cooking, baking, etc. People find my house "surprising" simply because so many of these hobbies still hang around.
      Example: I have three fountains in my house, one in my bedroom, one in my kitchen, one in my living room. Admittedly they are just tabletop fountains and the one in the living room is a tiny one, but they are fountains. Just to make things more aquatic, I also have an aquarium in my living room. My house bubbles and gurgles throughout the year.
      If you dig around my house -- and I'd rather you didn't -- you'll find a saber, a short sword, a sword cane, various knives, reams of decorative paper, a broken laser, some hovercraft plans, several model rockets that show a few scrapes from their rough landings, more strange tools than you can shake a stick at should you be a stick shaking person, thousands of books and a lot of -- hate to use the word but it fits -- odd junk.
      Throw in several dozen photos, knick-knacks, artwork and gadgets, and you begin to be surprised that it can all fit in my tiny house.
      Now it sounds like I'm one of those men that will eventually die when piles of magazines fall on him, but it's neater than it sounds. I make it a rule to only indulge in one hobby at a time so the others mostly stay in their various boxes, cabinets, drawers, closets, storage buildings, etc., until I feel the urge for them. And my magazines are mostly stored in the garage ... No, really, I have a cabinet for them out there.
      I enjoy all these hobbies, but I confess it's daunting to consider how much money I've spent on them over the years and how little I have that's of value to anyone but me. I mean, I collect things that interest me, but that doesn't mean they're particularly worth anything in monetary value. In fact, I prefer hobbies -- origami for instance -- that don't require much outlay of cash. (The laser was a strange aberration to this, and it doesn't even work anymore. Something else I need to fix when I get time.)
      All of this led to me to feng shui. Let me give you a moment to catch up. Still can't? Let me help. For a brief period of time, I investigated feng shui. I thought a lot of it was plain silly. However, I found a book from which I was able to extract three bits of wisdom, at least in how to declutter your house. To wit: Keep only items that are 1) useful and/or 2) loved and/or 3) beautiful. (I told this to a friend of mine once, and she said that if she followed it, she would have to divorce her husband as he wasn't any of those!)
      Thus what you find in my house is 1) useful (maybe just to me) or 2) loved (once again maybe just by me) or 3) beautiful (ditto). They also help me not be bored and thus wait, if not patiently, at least busily.
      Now if you're still with me, you're probably wondering how we got on the subject of waiting anyway. Well, tomorrow my sibs and their families arrive for an exceedingly rare visit to my town. I've been cleaning house and generally bemoaning all that stuff in my house as I eagerly await their arrival. And I do mean CLEANING. We're talking dusting, vacuuming, mopping, scrubbing, discarding and finally hiding. I'm tired of doing it. I want my nieces and nephew to be here now so that we can play, play and play some more.
      So I'm waiting for them.
      I need a larger house.
      Good night.

No more, sir, please, no more ...

      I love Christmas. Always have, hope I always do. But I'm beginning to think I don't love the food that goes along with it. I blame this on IBD partly, but mostly on Weight Watchers. I, of course, have cheated over this holiday season. I've had enough turkey, potatoes and gravy, rolls, yams, pudding and pie to last several bears through the winter. I've went to parties, lunches and gatherings until I've started flinching whenever someone says, "We should get together."
      I should be strong enough to resist the food. I'm not. Won't pretend to be. If you put it in front of me, I will eventually eat it. I'm sure if I had been with the Donner party, I would have survived and perhaps gained a pound or two. My best choice is to not put it in front of me.
      Not to mention my IBD doesn't like rich food. I'm a great believer in a fairly bland diet, something that I'm used to and even like most times. I don't mind a change of pace occasionally, but lately my diet has been doing the cha-cha-cha.
      It's amazing how much food factors into our special occasions. I've yet to go to a get-together without there being some munchie offered. Even business meetings offer doughnuts. We live in a land of plenty, and we eat plenty, too. We eat too much, too often and too fattening.
      So I'm ready for the food part to be over. The laughing, talking, hugging, singing, exchanging gifts, making phone calls and playing board games can go on for a while longer. But as for the food, no more, sir, please, no more.

A Christmas report of sorts

      The tree sits in the corner, lights blinking on and off in the room that is dark other than my computer monitor. Hot tea sits in a mug to the side of my keyboard.
      I'm sitting here trying to write my way through the world, trying to find my way to a coherent existence instead of my usual muddle. I'm thinking about the world and how strange we humans are. We make war easily, do our level best to wipe each other off the face of the earth, but when a calamity happens, such as a tidal wave, people from all over the world send money, send food, go themselves to help. We are capable of terrible acts and incredible charity. The ape reaching toward the angels, as Terry Pratchett puts it. What an odd lot we are.
      It was a good, quiet Christmas. I was alone, which seems to fill my friends with dismay. It was a bit lonely, I won't say that it wasn't, but I've mastered being alone a long time ago. I've learned how to be with only me. In learning how to forgive other people for their failures, I learned how to forgive me for mine, and thus I don't mind spending time with me. There are remembered regrets, but there are present and past joys, too.
      And I called my sibs and their families. I watched movies and posted Christmas stuff and generally ate sweet, fattening, delicious food I shouldn't have. I listened to soft Christmas carols and let the quiet music fill my soul until there wasn't any me left, just the sounds of angels appearing and holy holy night.
      And later that evening I watched Godzilla battle MechaGodzilla and Mothra in a movie battle that brought Tokyo to its knees ...
      It was a good Christmas. How was yours?

Merry Christmas in 37 languages

Afrikaner: Een Plesierige Kerfees
Argentinian: Felces Pasquas y felices Ano Nuevo
Armenian: Schernorhavor Dzenount.
Bohemain: Vesele Vanoce
Bulgarian: Chestita Koleda
Chinese: Kung Hsi Hsin Niene bing Chu Shen Tan
Croatian: Sretan Bozic
Danish: Glaedelig Jul
Esperanto: Gajan Kristnaskon
Estonian: Roomsaid Joulu Puhi
Finnish: Houska Joulua
Flemish: Vrolike Kerstmis
French: Joyeux Noel
German: Froehliche Weihnachten
Greek: Kala Christougena
Dutch: Vrolyk Kerfeest en Gelukkig Nieuw Jaar
Hungarian: Kellemes Karacsonyi unnepeket
Iraqian: Idah Saidan Wa Sanah Jadidah
Irish: Nodlaig mhaith chugnat
Italian: Buon Natale
Japanese: Meri Kurisumasu
Jugoslavian: Cestitamo Bozic
Lettish: Priecigus Ziemassvetkus
Lithuanian: Linksmu Kaledu
Norwegian: God Jul og Godt Nytt Aar
Oklahoman: Merry Christmas, y'all
Polish: Boze Narodzenie
Portuguese: Boas Festas y Feliz Ano Novo
Rumanian: Sarbatori vesele
Russian: S Rozhdestvom Kristovym
Serbian: Hristos se rodi
Slovakian: Vesele vianoce
Spanish: Feliz Navidad
Swedish: God Jul
Turkish: Noeliniz Ve Yeni Yiliniz Kutlu Olsun
Ukrainian: Chrystos Rozdzajetsia Slawyte Jeho
Welsh: Nadolig Llawen

A Christmas prayer

We thank you for this place in which we dwell,
for the love that unites us,
for the peace accorded us this day,
for the hope with which we expect the morrow,
for the work, the health, the food,
and the bright skies which make our lives delightful
for our friends in all parts of the earth.

By Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894).

Merry Christmas!

      I hope you all have a safe, happy and peaceful Christmas. Thank you for reading my blog and thank you for all your comments and support. May God bless and richly keep you.

The Christmas Story

Luke 2:1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.
2:2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)
2:3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.
2:4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)
2:5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with Child.
2:6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.
2:7 And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.
2:8 And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.
2:9 And, lo, the angel of the LORD came upon them, and the glory of the LORD shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.
2:10 And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.
2:11 For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the LORD.
2:12 And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
2:13 And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,
2:14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.
2:15 And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into Heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the LORD hath made known unto us.
2:16 And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the Babe lying in a manger.
2:17 And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this Child.
2:18 And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds.
2:19 But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.
2:20 And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told unto them.
2:21 And when eight days were accomplished for the circumcising of the Child, His Name was called JESUS, which was so named of the angel before He was conceived in the womb.

Matthew 2:1 Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem,
2:2 saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.
2:3 When Herod the king had heard these things, he was troubled, and all Jerusalem with him.
2:4 And when he had gathered all the chief priests and scribes of the people together, he demanded of them where Christ should be born.
2:5 And they said unto him, In Bethlehem of Judea: for thus it is written by the prophet,
2:6 And thou Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, art not the least among the princes of Judah:
for out of thee shall come a Governor, that shall rule my people Israel.
2:7 Then Herod, when he had privily called the wise men, inquired of them diligently what time the star appeared.
2:8 And he sent them to Bethlehem, and said, Go and search diligently for the young child; and when ye have found him, bring me word again, that I may come and worship him also.
2:9 When they had heard the king, they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was.
2:10 When they saw the star, they rejoiced with exceeding great joy.
2:11 And when they were come into the house, they saw the young child with Mary his mother, and fell down, and worshipped him: and when they had opened their treasures, they presented unto him gifts; gold, and frankincense, and myrrh.

One Christmas Star

It

does

not seem

much against

the darkness of this world:

one light in a midnight sky, a pinpoint

of illumination seen by Magi and lonely shepherds.

Yet, strange as it seems, nothing has

let us see as clearly as He

along heralded

by that one

Christmas

Star.

© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved.

Mikey and Mikay, the little angels.
© Copyright 2004. All rights reserved. (Click photo to expand.)

Andre Norton fan

      One of my favorite authors is Andre Norton. Ms. Norton has published an incredible number of fantasy and science fiction novels in a career that spans over 50 years. I remember quite well coming across her novels in the library and eagerly devouring them when I was a pre-teen (back before the Flood).
      The Science Fiction Book Club has released several of her novels in hardback. I've started buying them to add to my collection of Norton softcovers. I have about 50 of her books total, and I've barely started.
      Her imagination and work ethic were equally amazing. I don't know how she did it. Admittedly some of her books aren't great, but none of them are bad, and many of them are wonderful. Her Witch World Novels are fan favorites. For starters, I recommend Forerunner Foray and Star Rangers.
      She's still active in collaborations with other authors and occasionally a novel of her own. She will be 92 this February. How's that for amazing?

Do you have any cheese to go with my whine?

      And now -- while enduring an IBD flare and my fractured foot -- I have caught a cold. Sigh. Well, let's talk of good things.
      My Christmas shopping is still done. No new unexpected gift needs have risen. Whew!
      I paid down another credit card with the last of the loan money. I didn't have enough to pay it off, but I paid enough that I should have it cleared by December 2006. Another card should pay off in August 2005 and another one in January 2006. That will leave just one card that will take until July 2008. And then I'm done except for the loan itself. It's supposed to pay off in December 2011, but with the money that used to go to the cards, I should be able to pay it off much sooner, but I haven't figured out the payoff exactly yet. This plan will also let me build up some savings in there as well as have a bit of cushion for emergencies. Several people -- thank you very much -- have pointed out that plans rarely execute as we planned them. I know that, but planning is the only way I can extract myself from this financial hole. I think it is flexible enough to cope with most of the emergencies that I can think of. We'll see. It would really help if I sold a book or two or seven.
      I got some good pictures of Mikey when he visited last weekend. I'll be posting a couple after I sort through them. He is such a joy. Of course, his idea of Christmas is a bit shaky -- we hunted Easter Eggs and wore Halloween masks and played monster -- but it's what his three-year-old mind came up with it, and we had great fun. Wish he could have stayed longer.
      And now good night!

The Incredibles save the day!

      Turns out my nephew is a fan of The Incredibles as well as the Justice League. And there's lot of merchandise out there for both. I purchased his presents this evening, and now once again, and I say this with just a bit of nervousness, I'm finished shopping. I hope. Please let it be so.
      I also wrapped a lot of presents today so I'm still making progress despite everything going on in my life. My foot continues to take more attention than I think it should, but I've been reading about these types of injuries on the net, and apparently that's just the way it is. So I will plan accordingly.
      Hats off to Joel! He left 11 (!) comments on my blog today. He really needs to get a life ... :) but until then, thanks for the comments, dude!
      And now I'm going to call it a night. Take care all.

ACK!

      My sister just called and said that the gift that she told me to get for my nephew and that I have already purchased ... he already has! ACK! More shopping! ACK!

A Bit More Later

      We will now give a short plug for Photoshop Elements 2. It's an excellent image editing program based on the premiere image editing program Photoshop. Since I don't want to sell a kidney to afford Photoshop, I'm content with Elements, and it's more than adequate for my purposes. The latest version is Elements 3, which only works on Windows XP. Check it out.

When it rains ...

      Because I had been ignoring it to take care of my injured foot and to battle with IBD, my computer decided to quit working. At least that's the only reason I can think of. While trying to make a music CD for a friend, it coughed, gave a mighty hiccup, then threw up data from one end of the hard disk to another. We had errors and blue screens and general all-around disaster.
      Fortunately my data was secure. I back-up my writing and photos fanatically. But of course, that data requires a computer to be useful in any way. And I need this computer to work. (Which it is, of course, or you wouldn't be reading this.) I can't afford a new one. This one is showing its age -- it was four this Thanksgiving, which is about 60 in computer years -- but I need it to continue to function well into its 100's. So I uninstalled, installed, downloaded updates, deleted updates and generally applied CPR and intensive care to its ailing motherboard. Viola! It's alive. And maybe in better shape before the Crash of Christmas 2004. We'll see how it goes.
      In other news, there isn't much. I finished my Christmas shopping this afternoon. My foot is currently complaining; it's quite loud for something with no mouth, but it should be happy to know that we won't have to brave the wilds of Wal-Mart again for a while. At least until next week when the frenzy will have died down.
      More later.

Darkness and light

      I'm having a bad week. First, the IBD has flared, and I'm having to work to keep it under control. Second, the whole bustle and busyness of the holiday season is always a drag. Too much to do and not enough time despite how I planned. Third, I apparently fractured my foot yesterday. I stepped wrong, went down a couple of steps, caught myself with this foot on a concrete step. Ouch. Truthfully it didn't actually hurt that much at the time. I was more embarrassed about falling. However, it has since risen in my attention. It's swollen and unhappy and turns out, according to my M.D., to be a stress fracture. Not that they can do much, other than give me pain pills and tell me to keep off of it.
      Fortunately, I have most of my Christmas shopping done. I just lack two people. I intended to finish today, but I will have to wait, it looks like. But it's okay.
      The IBD flare will subside. They always do. I'm watching what I eat and trying to spend at least 30 minutes in "quiet time" daily. I'm not getting enough rest yet, but I'll keep working on that.
      As for the busyness of Christmas, that's part of its fun. The whole harried thing has to be embraced. It's like riding a roller coaster. There might be places that make you uncomfortable, but if you throw yourself into it, you'll be okay.
      At its rock core, Christmas has tremendous power. It's near the longest night and shortest day, the time when darkness holds sway longer and light gives way, then the year continues and light waxes daily. The changing of the year follows. It carries both regret and joy.
      For many, Christmas is a hard time. One of my friend's mothers died on Christmas Day. She's never got over that, despite efforts to do so. I myself find melancholy pressing on me, more now that both my father and mother have passed on. I 'm at a loose end, not really belonging anywhere. Oh, my sibs make me welcome; don't take this as a reflection on them or my many friends who would willingly open their homes to me. But it's not the same. Somehow I never feel like I get to go home.
      There's an old song that goes: "They say that heaven's pretty, and living here is, too. But if I had to choose between the two, I'm going home. I'm going home. Where I belong." It's that belonging that's missing. It's the longing for the place that I had when I was young. But we grow up. We find other joys. And perhaps this regret and wisdom help us to be better people.
      Occasionally my religious friends will get into a discussion about Heaven and the afterlife. They have many theories, few of which involve streets of gold. But for me, it will be going to a place when we all finally belong.

Shop, drop and roll into bed

      I shopped, shopped and shopped some more. I only need gifts for two more people, then I'll be done. (Except for the endless wrapping. Gift bags anyone?) And now I am going to bed. I'm beginning to get the definite feeling that I'm not as young as I used to be. Oh, I mailed the Gazette this evening, also. Woohoo! (See December 4th's entry for more info about the Gazette.) Catch y'all tomorrow when I will try to have more to say.

Almost there

      The December Gazette is nearly finished. It's printed and stapled. It needs to be put in the envelopes, the subscription thank you's added, the subscription bills added for those who haven't paid, stamped and then mailed. I should finish it tomorrow night and then mail it Wednesday. Woohoo! I'm so close to being done, I can taste it.
      Tomorrow night I will engage in hardcore Christmas shopping. I'm going to whittle my list down a lot. I got four people's gifts tonight. Only 15 more to go. Yikes. And staying on a budget really makes you have to hunt. But still, it's going okay.
      I'm all worn out so good night!

Nifty Christmas Idea 9

More easy Christmas gifts:
      1. A couple of packages of specialty coffee make a perfect gift for your caffeine junkie. Include a few bottles of various flavorings for a special treat.
      2. Gift cards and gift certificates. Easy to send through the mail as the enclosure of a Christmas card. Add that saved postage to the gift card amount for a really jolly Christmas.
      3. Bake some cookies and put them in a glass jar with a lid. Many stores have sugar cookies with a design already in the dough. Add a bow. Nifty.

Nifty Christmas Idea 8

Here's a Christmas tree decorating tip from Frenzied Feline:
      When hanging bead garlands on the tree or other places, use wire ornament hangers to hang it from the branches. This prevents it from slipping on the branches and keeps a nice, crisp "peak" in the swags. Nifty.

Nifty Christmas Idea 7

Three inexpensive and lovely gifts:
       1. Purchase a pretty clear glass jar with a lid. Buy M&Ms or different types of chewing gum or other candies and fill jar. Decorate jar with nice stickers. (Scrapbooking stores have stickers that look great.) Put bow on top. Excellent gift for co-worker or teacher.
       2. Purchase plain pillar candles in various colors. Cut Post-it notes into star shapes or purchase stickers. Stick on candle. Or use masking tape to create stripes. Using paint brush or sponge, dab gold and/or silver paint on pillars. Or use any color desired. Paint should be water based and not flammable. Do not use oil or alcohol paints of any kind. When finished painting, carefully remove tape and/or Post-its to allow the pillar's color to show. Let dry overnight. Bind two or three together with a pretty ribbon.
       3. Purchase small wooden picture frame. Remove glass. Cover frame with stickers or hot-glue foreign coins on it or paste used postage stamps of various designs on it. Place photo inside of you with the person you've giving it to. Or a travel photo. Or cut a Christmas card front to fit frame.
       I've used all three of these ideas, and they turned out nifty.

Sometimes

      Sometimes you're not enough. That's the one of lessons of growing up. You get to learn that some people can't be saved, that you're going to have to watch as someone you love makes wrong decisions and chooses darkness, that you can't do anything except hope the damage won't break them.
      You can only do so much. Ultimately it's their decision about their lives. All the good advice in the world means nothing if the recipient won't listen. All the kindness in the world can't reach someone who won't let themselves be reached. You hope and pray, but they take that next drink or that next hit or one more time around with the wrong guy. They say they want to be rescued, but they've chosen their hell, and you can't save them. They don't want to be saved.
      Sometimes miracles happen. People do step back from the abyss. It happens every day many times. It's the hope you hold on to. Even when you lose.
      So you learn to take the victories you can, and you mourn the ones that fall, but there's always someone else walking along the edge so you don't have time to waste.
      You keep trying because we all court disaster sometimes. But for the grace of God, you might be that one who's failing, who's falling, who needs someone to catch them, who needs someone to say, "Hold on. I won't let you go. Hold on."
      Over the past few weeks, I've watched a friend choose something bad. He's lost his job and now his family, but he wants something he can't have and he's going to ruin himself in his attempt to get it. He's had books of good advice and libraries of warnings, but somehow he thought he'd be different, that he could walk along the hungry abyss and be unharmed. That he was different from all those others that fell before him.
      Sunday night he called me and asked what he should do. So I gave the usual good advice (counseling, marriage therapist, N.A. meetings) and as I did, I realized that he was going to ignore me, that everything I said was not what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that it was going to be okay, that it was going to work out. That he could keep what he had already lost.
      Because I really am his friend, I didn't tell him that because it wasn't true. The call ended shortly thereafter. I doubt he will call me again. I'll continue to hope and pray for him and his family, and that's all I can do for now. But miracles happen. I want one to happen in his life before he suffers too much, before he gathers too much regret.
      Miracles do happen.
      Sometimes.

And so it goes

      I've been busy on a project all night and only looked up a couple of minutes ago to realize that I should already be in bed. Thus only this tonight. But tomorrow I promise plenty of blogging goodness!

Signing my life away

      I closed the loan today. For a brief moment, I had a lot of money. Well, more money at one time that I remember ever having. Then the bank sent it off to the various tools of Satan. And that was that.
      Closing the loan was an interesting experience, particularly if you define "interesting" as "exhausting, confusing, long and tension-filled." There was form after form after form after form to be signed. And the loan gang had to explain each form using some language that no one has understood since the tower of Babel. Eventually I was like some wild crazed thing blindly signing every piece of paper they placed in front of me -- disclosures, agreements, privacy statements, body cavity search consent forms, organ farm contracts, etc. Finally I staggered out of the loan manager's office like the walking wounded. I swear he lit a cigarette after I left.
      But it's done. The DDP continues, God willing and if the creek don't rise. And now I'm going to bed.

Swimming in the shallows

      I used to be deep. No, really. In high school, I read -- on my own, not being forced to read them by a teacher -- the novels of Ayn Rand, Ernest Hemingway, Balzac and others. I devoured these huge books by the dozen, and my razor-sharp mind understood them. (And they were huge books; none of those authors had ever heard of editing for length and would be offended by the idea. A lot of words are in English, and they intended to use them all, sometimes in a single sentence.) Now I am lucky if I can make it through an episode of Scooby-Doo without getting confused.
      I don't know how it happened. I was still deep in college. People would comment about it. When I started talking, they would invariably say, "It's getting deep in here." I found other deep people there, and it was nothing unusual for us to spend hours discussing socioeconomic issues of modern life and whether or not our Student Assistant was dating the head of the cheerleaders.
      But after leaving college, I began swimming in the shallows, and my mind began to go. I don't know where it went. I suspect it's on a beach in Aruba.
      For the most part, I haven't missed my mind. It was inconvenient, always bringing up things that it shouldn't, particularly during Presidential elections. Of course, I can't do math, but I couldn't do that when it was here so it didn't seem like I had lost much.
      In fact, I was content until a few months ago when I chanced on "Who Wants to be a Millionaire?" I knew what the show was, but I had never watched it. I was immediately hooked. In case you aren't familiar, the host asks a contestant various questions, and with each correct answer, the contestant wins more money, up to a million dollars. Ah, $1,000,000. That's such a pretty number. I could just stare at it all day. Wait, where was I? Yes, I recall. The evil codfish had attacked the fortress of the fruit bats ... No, wait, that's not it. The evil fruit bats had attacked the fortress of the codfish. It's easy to get those two confused because they are so much alike, one being a flying mammal and the other being a fish. See?
      Anyway, the first questions on the Millionaire show are easy: Which of these is a fruit? A. Tomato B. Lettuce C. Spinach D. Rush Limbaugh. (The answer is tomato, but the overwhelming impulse is to pick Limbaugh.) Who invented the telegraph? A. Isaac Newton B. Galileo C. Copernicus D. Samuel Morse. (The answer is Morse. Newton invented fig newtons; Galileo and Copernicus were rock singers.) Easy, easy.
      But as the questions progress, they get harder until the million dollar question which is something like this: What is the atomic weight of lead? A. 2 B. 207 C. 512 D. 141. What excited me about this is that it happened to be something I knew. The atomic weight of lead is 207. So there I was, yelling the correct answer at the TV. And when he said, "D," I groaned and did a frustration dance. While it was the most exercise I had done all week, something is wrong when you get that involved in a game show. I realized I had lost my depth.
      Some people don't mind being shallow. They revel in it and end up in a political office or watching reruns of Baywatch. I, however, vowed to fight my mental decline. I immediately went to the library and checked out three of the heaviest books I could find. I had to have a strapping library aide carry them to the car for me, and even she had a bead of sweat on her forehead when she finished. I also decided to watch more Public Television, at least the week they show good shows to entice you to give them money.
      But other than Public Television, I will cut back on my TV time. That should save me at least 30 minutes a day, and I never liked the news, anyway. Except for that blonde newswoman who has a nice smile and lovely eyes but also has a wedding ring so I don't like her after all.
      And I will use the most potent wisdom I know for regaining your intelligence, a secret passed down by the ancients, a secret I will now share with you, something that will make you a genius and allow you to balance your checkbook forever!
      Oops, gotta go. Baywatch is on.

Another busy day

      My tree is decorated, and the rest of the house decorations are up. I wrapped most of the presents I purchased yesterday, and they make a small pile under the tree. I cleaned my kitchen, including mopping the floor. Nothing will ever make me like mopping, by the way.
      I spent the rest of the day working on the newsletter. I still have much to do. This week will be devoted to finishing it and getting my Christmas shopping done.
      Before I get accused of being efficient, I think I need to explain that I'm trying to get as much done as I can while I'm healthy. Odd? Well, I have IBD. Inflammatory Bowel Disease, if you don't know what it means. It's not one of those romantic diseases that they make a Lifetime Movie about.
      The simplest way to explain it is that I have an overactive immune system. It's always on. And sometimes it attacks me. Particularly the lining of my intestine. It makes me throw up and do other things that I will leave to your imaginations. If it's a really bad flair, it makes me bleed inside, and then I end up in the hospital. Not much fun, but I medicate early in a flair, and I haven't had to stay in a hospital in a long time.
      No one knows what causes IBD, IBS or Crohn's Disease. There are lot of theories and a lot of research being done, but no real answers and no cures. My niece suffers from Crohn's and has it much worse than me. She's been doing okay for a while, thank God.
      Certain foods can sometimes trigger a flare for me. Or stress. Or simply being alive. And here's the rub on the stress. It doesn't have to be bad stress. It could be something good, but it can still trigger a flare.
      Holidays are stressful, and I've lost weeks to a flare before. So when I'm healthy, I try to do as much as I can in case I'm not able to later. That's why I've been working steadily on Christmas. Just in case. I know it's an odd approach to life, but trust me, it's the approach of all IBD sufferers and anyone else with a chronic disease. And it's something you adapt to. No one's life is free from pain. That's just the price we pay for being alive.

A busy day

      The outside Christmas lights are up. My tree is up and lit, but still needs to be decorated. I went Christmas shopping and got a bit of it done. My house is dusted and vacuumed. Whew. I'm tired.
      Christmas shopping was a somewhat dismaying experience. As part of my DDP, I made a budget for all my Christmas gifts. Confession time: I have spent money like a French king at Christmases past. I enjoy giving gifts, and if I found the "perfect" one, I bought it, no matter if it would take me the next six months to pay off. But you can't keep doing that without the over spending eventually catching up with you. The last two Christmases have been terribly tight. Not enough money to go around. Well, I can't do it anymore. I have to control my spending, and that is that. I know I can find good gifts for everyone within my budget, but it feels ... weird. I called a relative and asked for gift suggestions for family member this morning. I had to tell her that a couple of her suggestions were out of my budget. She acted a bit odd about it, or maybe I perceived her response as that way. I'm sure it was a surprise to her. I have to cut back, but it made me feel diminished in some way. I can't really explain it, and I can't help it.
      And speaking of confession time, I haven't been writing as I should. I didn't expect the agent's rejection to take the wind out of my sails, but it has. It's a great surprise to me as I'm the original bump'n'go boy, but this one hurt in unexpectedly ways. I type on my story almost daily, but something is missing. It's just typing, not writing. I will recover from this. I always do. But it's not much fun during the recovery.
      I also made headway on the December Gazette today. I hope to finish it this coming week. Have I mentioned the Gazette yet? No? Well, the Gazette is a monthly family newsletter that I publish. I started it after my mother passed away and I realized that her life was largely unknown. All her earlier history was gone. I stayed angry at myself for months that I, a writer with a degree in journalism, had never taken the time to sit down and interview my mother. There were so many things about her that I hadn't learned and never will in this life.
      I'm slow, but not totally stupid. I started taping my father as he told stories about his childhood. Then, to share them with my sibs, I printed them up and mailed them out. The Gazette was born as a one-color, no illustrations flyer. I interviewed my dad monthly, which was about all he would do. When he passed away, I had nearly five years of stories and hours of tape. I find those a comfort now. During that time, the Gazette grew and changed.
      The cost of the Gazette became too much for me so I began to request subscription money, not really expecting much but hoping for some help. Amazingly, my family and friends subscribed cheerfully. While I still lose money on the Gazette, their subscriptions go a long way toward helping it not be such a burden and I appreciate their help and willingness to document and share our lives together.
      After my father's death, I thought I would stop the Gazette since I figured the family wouldn't be interested in continuing without him and I wasn't sure I wanted to. To my surprise, they strongly urged me to keep on. After a three month lapse, the Gazette did.
      Today, the Gazette is still published monthly and has full-color photos and illustrations. In September, we started our 10th year of publication. It features columns, travel articles, memories, devotions, recipes, stories, jokes and more by me, my sibs, my aunts and uncles and friends of the family. I gain a new subscriber ever so often, and while it still loses money, it's to the point that I can easily handle it and feel like it's just part of my contribution to our family history.
      The Gazette has helped my writing grow and keeps me in front of a computer, wrestling with words. Some articles that I've written for it have been published in other magazines as well as serving as inspiration for plays and short stories. It's a source of monthly feedback and encouragement.
      While you might not be interested in producing something like that for your family, do take the time to interview your parents and grandparents. You will end up with something that you and your children and their children will treasure. Not to mention it might spark your creativity in ways you can't imagine.

Good news

      I got the loan! Woohoo! We will close on it Tuesday. It's going to save me a lot of money and allow the DDP to continue at a faster rate. I feel a great sense of relief. God is good. Have a great night, y'all.

Every day a little victory

      I paid off a loan today. I wanted to dance in the bank as I did it. I was as nervous as a first kiss. It's taken me a couple of years and a lot of saving and discipline, but I did it. Permit me to bask in the feeling of accomplishment for a moment .............................. Okay, enough of that.
      The rest of the news isn't quite so good. The new loan to pay off some high interest credit cards may or may not happen. I'm buried in loan applications, but the loan officer thought it could be worked out. The loan rates won't be as low as I wanted, but it will still help greatly in getting those blood-sucking tools of Satan off my financial back. Of course, I still might get rejected. We'll see how it goes. Even if this doesn't work out now, I've made a lot of progress. (Start inspirational music now.) It's been a hard road, and much of it still lies before me, but the DDP will overcome! I will be free!

Office Christmas tree.
© 2004. All rights reserved. (Click on photo to expand.)

Going mad, I tell you mad!

      Blogger is driving me crazy. Now I can't get Hello to upload photos onto my page. Sigh. Yes, it's free, and I shouldn't complain, but hey, I am! I want it to work. And I'd like them to add a few more new features. For free. Pushy, ain't I?
      I took a photo of my office Christmas tree that I thought turned out okay. It's what you're going to see if it ever lets me post it. Who knows?
      I really like my new fridge. I really need to get a life.
      Tomorrow I pay one debt and will attempt to gain another one. What? Yeah, tomorrow I'm going to try to get a loan to pay off a couple high-interest credit cards. I hope I can manage it. If not, my debt disappearance plan (DDP) will continue, but it would allow me to pay things off sooner. Let's hope the bank sees me as a good risk. Have I mentioned that credit cards are a tool of Satan? Credit cards are the tool of Satan. Now you know.
      Gifts, gifts, gifts ... That's what I've been working on tonight. Trying to pick out gifts for my loved ones. I want my gift list in shape for my Saturday shopping trip. I try to buy locally, even if it's at my local WalMart. My sales taxes help support my town. Makes sense.
      Hello still won't let me post the photo. Maybe tomorrow. Y'all have a good night, you hear!

Woohoo!

      Finally Blogger let me on to post! I tried many, many, MANY times last night, and it only gave me an error page. I don't have much time now so just few brief things to tide us over until tonight:
      I have a new fridge. My old one, the beloved green Hotpoint of 22 years, finally died a slow death. Now I have a new white side-by-side Frigidaire from Sears with filtered ice and water available on the door. Cool! It provides cubed and crushed ice and has lots of shelves and storage space. It's not green, which is a good thing, and I got a good price for it. Sears seems to have good prices on most appliances, and they have great delivery guys in my town.
      My roomie purchased himself a new Ford F-150 last night. It's red, quad cab with hundreds of cup holders! Well, maybe not hundreds, but dozens ...
      I mailed my Christmas cards last night. Woohoo!
      I'm going to tackle the Christmas shopping this weekend and vow to have the majority of it done before the weekend ends. Thank heavens for 24 hour Walmarts.
      Likewise, my tree goes up this weekend, and I hope to finish putting up the lights outside. Well, one way or another, I will be finished with them. Some things you just have to let go and move on.
      The sun is actually shining today! Sunshine! Ahhhh ...
      Tomorrow afternoon I will pay off one of my debts. The first result of my five year plan. It feels good. I have a long way to go, but to quote an old proverb: "A journey of a thousand miles starts with one step."
      See you tonight, Blogger willing!