Sunday, February 28, 2010

Panic Attack Aborted: All Is Well

I found it.  I found my composition book with all my notes & crap inside!  It slid behind the chair cushion where I plop my stuff when I come home.  Good thing I clean once in a while, eh?

Special thanks to Julie (Okami) and Zuzu for their good thoughts and vibes!  I'm sure that's how I got so lucky.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Panic Mode Approaching

I've lost one of my notebooks.  This is causing additional worried thoughts to my already worry-riddled body.  The notebook I lost was one of my take along writer's junk notebooks that is 1/2 filled with crap.  It contains notes on my WIP and some random thoughts that are for my eyes only.  And I can't remember when or where I had it last.

What I'm worried about is that the person who finds it will read it and not knowing that it is a writer's junk notes, will think I meant every blasted word.  I can't remember if I wrote my name in it, either.  Crap. 

So in my "replacement" notebook I have added my name, address, cell phone number and this statement:
Caveat for those who read this notebook:  This notebook is written by a writer.  It is a mishmash of journal, story ideas, poetry starts, and a container of my thoughts.  I am human.  I do not always have nice bunny-soft thoughts.  I get angry and tend to express it in crude and offensive language.  I do this in here so that I don't do it "out there."
Have you ever lost something that you'd be worried for others to find?

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Oh yeah! I remember now. I think.

The rain!  Yeah.  That's what I wanted to talk about.
My little dog, Gracie, bless her heart, is just not very "with it."  I was sitting at my computer today reading blogs and she kept nosing me for attention.  Then she let out a long, silent but deadly, poot.  I gagged and looked over at her big black eyes.  "Outside?"  She jumps all over me and swirls on her perch.  (She sits on a pillow-topped Coleman cooler placed right beside me.)  I lead her out to the back yard and she dashes out to the center, stops, realizes that it is raining and almost transports herself directly back to my side under the porch roof. 

We go back inside to resume our activity. 

Not a whole minute later, she's nosing me again.  Big black eyes and hopeful wags of tail, I agree to take her out for a walk.  I put on my raincoat and snap on her leash.  Gracie pulls me out the front door and nose glued to the ground, down the block.  We get about 5 houses away before she looks up and notices that it is raining in the front yard, too.  My shoulder is almost pulled out of the socket from her sudden spin and race back to the house.

We go back inside to resume our activity.

Again, she is nosing me.  "It's still raining, Gracie."  She poots again.  Back out to the back yard.  (Yes, we do have a doggy door.  She's just weird that way.)  Again, out to the middle of the yard, feels the rain, and dashes back to my side.

I sigh.  At least she is getting some exercise.

Rain, Delightful Rain!

We are being blessed here in Phoenix, Arizona with rain.  Winter is the time of year when we get most of our preciptation, so it really is not a "big deal." 

I'm originally from Minnesota.  (Most metropolitan Arizona residents are from someplace else.  It's a stale joke.)  In Minnesota we had 5 months of snow.  White turning slowly to a dark, mucky grayish black.  Every year someone made the news because they died shoveling the stuff.  Not here.  Well, okay, maybe up in Flagstaff, but we don't hear of it down here.  I think the press keeps that quiet on behalf of our tourism industry, but I don't know for sure.

The rain.  That's what I was going to write about.  But now I forgot what I was going to say.

I'm over 50.  I should write this stuff down somewhere.

Sunday, February 14, 2010


Back home again. I’ve been working at a conference since Thursday and it’s been great fun as I was playing the second banana. But even with all the fun, it is tiring because as my hubby says, you’re always “on.” Then, when you get behind those closed hotel room doors, you aren’t home. There’s no real time or place to relax. It isn’t your bathroom. It isn’t your bed. And I’m allergic to feathers. (What is this current fad with feather pillows and comforters? Don’t even get me started on pre-scenting the rooms. Hello, Resort People!)

I over-pack, too. I allow for all “emergencies” and possible boredom. I take work with me. I bring my journal.  I bring two or three books. I lug the laptop along. And I use none of it. I’m too tired. I’d even hoped to post a few bits on the blog. You see how well that plan went, huh.

Anyway, I’m home. I took a long nap with my dog snuggled up to my side. What bliss! Tomorrow is a holiday. One of my bosses has closed his office and while the other one is open, it is my free choice as to whether or not I want to go in or not. I’m taking the day off.

Someday I’ll have to write about my two bosses. Complete opposites in management style and they get completely different work styles out of me. It’s rather interesting when I can back myself up to look at them objectively – which is very hard to do when I get emotional. But, until I can officially ditch the one and stay full time with the other, I’ll let it all go with what I’ve said here.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Recommended Website on Dream Interpretations

Dream Moods Dictionary  is my “go to” website when I have a particularly disturbing or weird dream. So of course, this was where I went to find out why I have frequent dreams of fountain pens and more frequently of ink.
Ink in your dream represents creativity and a new way of looking at things. If ink is spilled in your dream, then it symbolizes a blemish or minor problem. Or perhaps you are about to be exposed. Ink may also be a metaphor for "getting ink" or getting a tattoo.

To see bottles of ink in your dream suggests that a solution to your problem will soon become apparent.

A pen in your dream signifies self-expression and communication. Consider also the phrase of how the pen is mightier than the sword.
However, it could be that I just had an extensive research session on these items and the last one could be attributed to the Jet Pens order that I placed and received.

Or I could be just plain nuts.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Get Motivated!

A bunch of us from work went downtown on Thursday, Feb. 4th to hear celebrities give motivational speeches. The tickets were next to free and our company was picking up the tab. We piled on the light rail early that morning so we wouldn’t have the incredible hassle of parking downtown. A couple of my coworkers had never ridden the train before, so it was fun to watch their expressions and hear their comments.

The venue of the event is the US Airways Center where our Phoenix Suns play. (They have a great sound system, by the way.) We arrived when the larger share of the audience did. Lines were long, but they moved quickly. I raised my eyebrows when I saw stacks of free tickets sitting outside the doors. Last I heard, tickets were being sold for $159 and the tickets themselves stated a face value of $225, yet we got in for a total group price of $19. Hmmmm…..

What a show! And I mean show. We heard Kurt Warner and Rudy Giuliani give wonderful talks on different aspects of motivation. We heard Laura Bush give a talk on nothing resembling motivation whatsoever. Everyone else we heard had motivation. For themselves. They oh, so humbly honked their horns, quoted the Bible, demonstrated their financial prowess using outdated information from 2002 (hindsight is 20/20 you know), and offered their workshops/books/CDs that are valued at “$3,069 but for coming here today, we can offer it to you at $99!” or “proceeds from the sale of my book go to these children’s charities.” And then half the stadium emptied out to go sign up for their stuff. This happened for most of the speakers. It was a good show of how to manipulate a crowd.

If the “Get Motivated!” seminar comes to your area, I recommend you go, if for nothing else but to watch the crowd.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

You Don’t Know What You Have ‘Till It’s Gone

Whew!  **Slides into chair**  Back online!  We’ve had phone and DSL internet problems since Wednesday, Feb. 3rd and hopefully we are back up and running for good. I live in an older part of town with regards to the infrastructure. Most of it dates back to 1954 with updates in the early 1970s. (When the DSL part was added, I haven’t a clue. 1990s sometime?) The city is starting the process of moving old water lines from the alleys to new water lines under the streets in front of our houses. Combine this with the rain we’ve had lately, the 1970s era phone lines and what a mess is had by all. I find it hard to believe we are the only customers complaining.

Actually, I’m writing this offline to make myself feel better. As I type, the phone repair dude is waiting for something to be brought in from the yard. I didn’t catch what it was, but my guess is an industrial-size hair dryer. Whatever. But I’m frustrated, because I wanted to look up the age of our DSL technology and couldn’t.
So, it is amazing how much I’ve become dependent upon the internet. No email. No blogs. No research at the drop of a question. I can’t even check the weather. (Why do radio stations decide you don’t need weather reports on the weekend?) My hubby couldn’t take it anymore so last night he packed up his laptop and, daughter in tow, headed for Peter Piper Pizza where they offer free wi-fi.

I stayed in and read my overdue library book. But I kept forgetting that we had no internet. I’d come to something in the book that I wanted to follow up on and I’d slip my finger in to hold my place and trotted over to my computer. After the fourth or fifth time I finally let myself sink into the story and forget the world. It’s been too long since I allowed myself to do that. What bliss when I turned the last page and felt that moment of “rats, the story is over.”

When was the last time you let go of the world to sink into a good book?