What doesn't kill me...

... has no impact at all?

I realized today that this is in fact how I see things. If I am not completely knocked down by something, then I should be fine. As if there's no middle ground.

I realized this after spending the morning asleep. As I mentioned last week, I've got a cold. It started to get better but then got stuck. I have a stabbing pain in my right cheekbone (thank you, sinuses), a hacking cough, and a sore spot on my right side which I think is from too much coughing and nose blowing.

But enough about me, how are you doing?

I was determined to work today. "I need to." Mr. W said I should rest. "I don't want to." "Well, you should."

FINE. So I lay down on the couch at about 10:30, figuring I'd be bored shortly. Sure enough, I heard the living room clock chime 10:45. OK, I'll stay here until 11 then get up and work.

The next thing I heard was the clock chiming 11:45. Hmm. Then 12:30 and nothing in between. Then 1.

I tend toward the "what are all these random things doing in the same place?" kind of dreams, and this was no exception. First, I had made some major changes to Aardvark's manuscript on paper and was dragging it around with me in one of two backpacks (with, inexplicably, a glass vase in there too). I eventually misplaced it, after a strange scene involving military men facing each other playing flutes and trading the flutes every few bars, and couldn't find it. I wasn't panicking, though; whenever I realized it was gone I just thought, "Well, I did it once, I can do it again."

I think that was the pre-11:45 dream. Later, I was following a man and what I recall as a dancing horse up a steep hill. At the top, they vanished and I was left looking down on a staircase. The thing started out steep, then became vertical, and then actually bent under itself so I couldn't see the stairs any more. At the bottom of that was a huge jump across to a platform that would let me climb back UP stairs and continue on my way.

There were spectators nearby, joking around and insisting I could do it and all that, and then someone yelled, "Make way for the children!" and a herd (pack? bunch? collection?) of penguins came marching around the corner.

The corner that was the alternate to the stairs and the jump and the stairs. Off to the side, where I hadn't looked, there was an easy, even paved, path to get where I wanted to go.

So I went, and eventually realized one of those spectators had my backpack. I turned around to go back and the penguins were following me and pecking at my legs and jumping up to wrap strands of my hair around my neck and try to strangle me, but I kept going.

I wish I could say I triumphantly grabbed the backpack, but I don't remember.

What I DO remember is seeing that alternate path and thinking, "There's another way. Remember to CHECK for one!"

It was after I got up and was making lunch that I realized I'm too insistent on "my way or the highway". This CAN be a good thing but not when my way involves plowing through being sick or refusing to acknowledge that I need a rest. Perseverance in the face of not feeling like working? Bring it on. Perseverance in the face of STILL having chills and a sore throat? Maybe not.

Mr. W was right. I HATE it when that happens. :)

The joys of a politely worded complaint letter

Back in June, I was bemoaning the dishwasher install in which Home Depot's two computer systems had different ideas of what my delivery date should be. At the time, I vowed to write a "strongly worded letter to Home Depot asking for my $50 delivery charge back." I didn't think it'd work but I felt the need to try.

Well, it DID work! I got a phone call from the store manager offering either a gift card or a discount on another appliance. The only appliance we could get at the moment is a microwave, since we are currently using the microwave oven that Mr. W had when I met him (in 1994!). There's rust in it (yes, really) but it still seems to be working well and I think we kind of want to see whether it'll still be running in another .... I just did the math and it gave me heart failure... 16 more years... how did I get so old?? I remember 1994 like it was yesterday. I barely remember yesterday, frankly, but 1994 is clear in my mind. Egad.

Wow.

Anyhow, if the microwave does give up the ghost, it'd probably be easier to just have a gift card instead of a discount on an appliance, so I politely requested such and it arrived in the mail yesterday! The polite but clearly worded letter did the trick. I'm impressed with Home Depot, I must say.

If you'll excuse me, I'm just going to sit over here and mutter, "1994. How could that be?" for a while.

Happy Birthday, Mr. W!

Today is the birthday of the most supportive husband a writer could ever have.

I couldn't possibly list all the ways he helps me get my books done and keeps me from going completely insane, but I hope he knows how much I appreciate it.

Happy birthday!!

Easter Bunny Eating part 3: the explanation

I asked Mr. W last night WHY he had eaten the bunny the way he had. (I could have asked earlier, but then I wouldn't have had so much fun making fun of it. :)

He gave me that "it's so obvious" look I get regularly from him and said, "I broke off the ears and then I was holding it with its head up so I ate it that way."

TECHNICALLY not a failure of the "eating the ears first", I guess - he basically removed the ears from play and then carried on from there.

I think I'm done with obsessing about this. :)

Easter Bunny Eating part 2: It's all my fault

Apparently I asked him to save me the ears. I don't remember this. I DO remember asking for a piece "like maybe the ears", but I might have said it badly.

But that does NOT explain eating the stomach and leaving the feet part! I will not take responsibility for that.

The bunny is now entirely gone, by the way, and I can confirm that regardless of which part you eat first, they taste good. :)

I DID do the 14 km run yesterday. Despite my original "just gonna do it" plan, I ended up setting a time goal mid-run and then being stressed throughout about whether I'd reach it. (I did, with one minute to spare, but I'd thought I'd have three to spare so I was bugged by that too.)

I'll be doing an 18 km this week and I will NOT set a time goal I won't I won't I won't. I will just run and have fun!

Easter Bunny Eating - You're Doing It Wrong

I often wonder if Mr. W is human. The man is insanely patient, obsessed with aliens jumping out of chests ("Add that to your book and it'll sell right away!"), and prone to saying the weirdest and funniest things ever.

What I found on the coffee table this morning has deepened my suspicion that I am living with some sort of robot or possibly an actual alien.


Is that how a normal person eats an Easter Bunny? I think not.

If I disappear one day, please make sure the authorities know about this post and know they might be dealing with something... odd. Something inhuman.

:)

Off to run 14 km! (And I'm odd myself, I guess, since I'm looking forward to it. :)

If you're happy with your aardvark, clap your hands!

Clap-clap.

I've been very quiet here lately. I have been reading all my usual blogs and even commenting occasionally, but I haven't felt the need to post myself. In this case, that's a good sign, because my energy and focus has been on planning for my next novel, code-named Aardvark. (Weird, yes, but a cool word!)

This afternoon, I'll start the book's first draft.

I am excited and nervous about this. Both for the same reasons, really... because things ALWAYS change from my outlines and because it's such an undertaking to write a novel. I look at the polished text of the previous ones and find it so hard to believe that at some point I was here with them too, with a collection of outlines and notes and nothing more.

But I was, and I have faith that in the not-too-distant future I will be here with the next book, looking back at the polished text of Aardvark (which by then will have a title, I hope!) and wondering how it all happened.

So, here is the basic summary of Aardvark's plot. This is unlike anything I've ever written before and I am thrilled to bits about that because how will I get better if I don't try something I've never done before? It could be a glorious success or an equally glorious failure, but either way, it'll be glorious. :)

Thirty-something Rhiannon is an obsessive planner and goal-setter, but somehow nothing she achieves ever seems good enough to her. Determined to lose forty pounds for her best friend's August wedding, Rhiannon flees her parents' house in a Christmas-day blizzard to avoid the temptation of all her favorite foods, but her car skids off the deserted road into a tree.

Unable to escape the car, with her leg trapped and bleeding and her cell phone out of reach, Rhiannon is at first certain she'll be rescued and writes notes to her friends and family to pass the time. As the weather cools and her condition deteriorates, though, she recognizes the possibility that her life might be over. Interspersed with increasingly desperate escape attempts, her letters become deeper and more heart-felt as she comes to see what really matters in life.

If you've spent more than five minutes reading this blog in the past, you'll see that a lot of what Rhiannon's struggling with are my issues as well. That's exactly what I wanted: to try to write answers I don't have for the questions I care about. I can't wait to see how this all works out!

A brief Val update: Val is doing great! No longer just eyeballs and a fin, Val now has eyeballs (good, right?), a body, and a back fin. He's maybe twice as big as he was before, and I've seen him eating the crushed flake food I've put into the breeding trap for him. Yay, Val! Yay, Aardvark!

Yay! Now, time for lunch, the gym, and a trip to Starbucks where I'll start writing Aardvark!

My new baby!

I used to have a 55-gallon saltwater fish tank. I got into saltwater because I love the bright blue colour of the blue damselfish. Unfortunately, I didn't realize at the start how aggressive they can be, and eventually I had only one blue damselfish (two inches long) in a 48-inch-long aquarium.

A few weeks ago, I converted the tank to fresh water and bought some swordtails and platies. They aren't as exciting as the blue damselfish, but they also don't kill everything that swims anywhere near them.

On Feb 13th, Mr. W and I went to the fish store to get some additional fish, since the tank was doing well. We got more swordtails and more platies. When we added them to the tank, one of the platies did not look good. We fished it out and put it into a plastic bowl in the tank, so that it could either recover or die in peace.

When I got up the next morning, the fish hadn't died... it had had babies! There were two tiny (TINY. Not even a centimeter long) fish in the bowl with her. I put them into a plastic breeding trap, which (in theory) keeps the mother fish separated from the babies.

See, these livebearer fish aren't exactly "mother of the year" candidates. In the wild, the babies immediately swim into shallow water or into the roots of plants, so any baby the mother (or other fish) see is a free meal. I know it's nature and all that, but I am the queen of this aquarium and I'm not letting the babies all get eaten!

One of the babies swam down into the safe base area of the breeding trap, but the other kept popping up into the main area. I tried to shoo it down a few times, but eventually... only one baby. =(

But then she had another one! But only for a few seconds: this baby swam up and down in the trap, clearly freaking out, and while I tried to figure out what to do, the mother launched herself at it, and solved the problem. NOT the way I'd have solved it, of course.

It's one thing to know that these fish eat their babies. It's another to have it happen right in front of me. So I did what now seems kind of weird... I tipped the mother fish out into the tank. This means that the one surviving baby is safe, but it also means that any other babies she has are free range snacks for the tank. But I couldn't bear to see her eat the last baby. I had to keep it safe.















This picture (which was the best of the many I took) shows the tiny baby in the breeding trap. The baby's in the red box I drew on the picture, and beneath it are two of the new platies, which for size reference are about two inches long. (One COULD be the mother, but I'm not positive... it's not like they wear name tags or anything like that.)

Since I first saw the baby on Feb 14th, I've named him/her Val. Valentino if it turns out to be a boy, and Valentina if it's a girl. I won't know for a few months, from what I read online.

I have high hopes that I'll be able to keep Val alive. Once he (interesting note about me: nearly everything for which I don't know a gender, including my car, computer, and Palm, is male) is close to an inch long, I can set him free in the tank. Until then, he's staying in the breeding trap.

I will post occasional updates on my little aquatic friend. I do NOT intend to try to keep all tank-born babies alive, especially since I now have ten female livebearers, each of which can have 30-100 babies every 4-6 weeks. I will let nature take its course overall.

Just not for Val. :)

Heather

Mangled Sayings

The women in my family are known for mangling sayings and proverbs. I keep meaning to make a list of these so we'll remember them, but I never have. Today, I added a new one to the list so I'm going to actually make a permanent list here on my blog.

We are also a family that endlessly repeats our favourite quotes from The Simpsons, Police Squad, Fawlty Towers, and the like. I might make a post for those some day, but for today, it's the screwed-up sayings.

Said by me:

• "This one just bit the farm." (combo of 'bite the dust' and 'bought the farm') (this is today's gem)
• "We're behind the gun on this one." ('under the gun' and 'behind the eight ball')
• And my all-time classic, said at a buffet after I took way too much food... "I guess my eyes are bigger than my head."
  

Said by my mother:

• "What's the name of that movie... it's a question. I think it's 'can you believe it?' " (actual movie title: What Lies Beneath)
• There was a commercial in which a dull-sounding man says, "It's made me the party animal I always knew I could be." Mom's version? "It's made me the animal party I always knew I could be."
• Ironically, while we were teasing her for something else, "I'm being mis-aligned here!" (Do you mean 'maligned', perchance?)
  

Said by my younger sister:

• My latest book includes a reference to "don't look a gift horse in the mouth". While reading this, she called and asked Mr. W to finish the sentence "don't ___ a gift horse in the mouth". He, of course said 'look'. She was absolutely convinced it was 'kick'.
• This one was my fault, and isn't quite the same but it's funny so here it is. I was on an instant-messaging session with her and our youngest sister. Youngest and I are quite tech-oriented. YoungER, not so much. (Ack, they need nicknames. OK, younger shall be known as Lexi and youngest as Newt, after their cats). Poor Lexi was falling behind as Newt and I typed far too fast for her. I typed, "The problem's between your chair and keyboard." A good minute later, she says, "Hey! That's me!"
  

There are definitely more of these (I said another one yesterday but have since forgotten it) but this is at least a start.

My youngest sister, to my knowledge, doesn't mangle sayings like this, but I'll keep an eye on her and if she starts I'll add 'em. :)

This does appear to be a female thing in my family: my dad and brother say stupid things (a LOT) but not in this fashion. However, just to complicate things, my paternal grandmother once called a train station to ask what time the five o'clock train would be leaving. So, the siblings and I got it from both sides, apparently.

I intend to send this on to the family mailing list (we have a Yahoo! group - that's nerdy, right? Guess who started it? :) and see if anyone remembers any other gems!

Heather

Mr. W

Let me tell you about my husband.

This man has never once doubted my ability to get published. He listens for hours (and sadly, that's not an exaggeration) to me complaining about the industry, worrying about my books, and agonizing over little plot points. He even participates by throwing out ideas and suggestions. Many are completely insane, but several have dramatically changed my books for the better.

In my first career, I was a software developer. When I decided I wanted to leave that and go into teaching, he said, "Okay." When I left teaching to write full-time, after writing my first book's first draft, he said, "Okay," and he's supported me since 2005 with never a word of complaint.

We went clothes shopping today, both of us trying on things we'd never think we'd like to see what we thought. (Our own personal 'What Not to Wear'.) We spent maybe 30 minutes on his clothes and a good two hours on mine. A lot of things I liked didn't fit me, and I did get upset after the first store. I've been exercising well but I haven't been eating right and so I haven't lost weight. Rather than even hinting that if I'd stuck to what I'd said I'd do I wouldn't be having such clothing-related problems, Mr. W commented on what worked and what didn't, and then sat at the second store for at least an hour while I tried on at least 15 different things. Then he bought me three shirts and a pair of pants I needed, and a fuzzy vest I absolutely didn't need but loved, and was still smiling at the end.

There might be a better man out there somewhere, but I can't imagine how it'd be possible. If I'm lucky, I'll be able to support him someday on my writing income and buy him everything he could ever want. He deserves it, and more.

Thank you, Mr. W. For everything.

April 24, 2008: I love you, Raoul!

I had a fantastic morning. In 1.5 hours, I created a three-page outline for the new book, codenamed Raoul. I haven't re-read it - it's going to wait until Saturday - but I know that a) there are some things wrong with it and b) there are a ton of things right with it. And both of those things are just fine with me. :) I'm delighted with how it's going!

I had lunch and a shopping trip with my mom today and didn't get home until 3:30, and never quite got back into the working groove. I've spent basically the last hour and a half browsing crochet patterns on the Internet. I have noticed that I'm far more productive Monday and Tuesday than I am Thursday and Friday... I've always assumed I should force myself to do the same amount of work each day, but perhaps I should front-load the week for writing and back-load it for housework. Something to test out.

Writing Project: Raoul
Time Planned: 3.5 hours
Time Spent: 1.5 hours. Hmm.
Favourite Part: putting the ending on the outline and knowing it's the right ending!

Exercise: 25 minute run (wanted 45 but had to cut it short because I was volunteering at the elementary school's band practice at 7:30AM and I just couldn't get up any earlier!
One Fun Thing I Did Today: had a nice lunch with my mother