Turn, Turn, Turn...

Yes, to everything there is a season. A time to laugh, a time to cry-

A time to write, a time to be so thoroughly exhausted by the nothingness of everyday that all you can think about is sitting down and closing your eyes for a moment and maybe if you stop breathing through your nose the poopy diaper that needs to be changed will just go away.

NaNoWriMo came to an abrupt stop for me when my husband left the country for the last half of the month of November. We shifted into pure survival mode (and when I say survival mode I mean eating and drinking enough to stay alive. Everything else fell away). I got to about 12,000 words, which is painfully shy of where I thought I'd end up, but 4,000 more words than I got to last year. And the idea developed much more this time. It is a project I will revisit.

Anyway, I've got about as much creativity in my brain as.... see, I can't even think of a good analogy. No creativity.

So I'm not going to pretend anymore. Instead of leaving all 2 of my faithful readers with the impression that I just might update the blog, I will officially go on hiatus until after this baby is born and I'm sleeping more than 3 hours a night. I will be sure to post when the blessed event occurs, just to keep y'all in my loop. Expect that in January.

When I do return, hoodie donned and rarin' to go, you can expect me to become an active part of the community again, like the good old days.

Until then, my friends, this is not goodbye. Just "until we meet again."

And for those of you morbid enough to care, I leave you with a photo of my current state-

Slow and steady.... what does it do again?

Well, here we are almost two weeks into NaNoWriMo. The bad news is that I'm almost hopelessly behind at just over 10k words. The good news, I'm sticking to it and making whatever progress I can. And, amazingly, I haven't given up that I can still make the final word count. I'll just have to write like a crazy person a few days to get caught up. We'll see.

In the comment section of my last post Beth said she can't imagine anything I write sucking. While I find that a thrilling compliment, I can assure you that not only can I write stuff that sucks, I'm quite adept at it. I'm not kidding. There was one point where I honestly wasn't sure what the main character should do next and I was exhausted. So the MC watched Oprah, ate cold cereal and took a nap. BORING. But it got me to the word count I wanted that day.

However, I've written at least one scene that gets me excited, so WOOT for that.

A famous author once wrote that you have at least a million words of garbage to write before anything truly wonderful comes out. I don't know if that's entirely true, but I get what he's saying. 990,000 to go! :)

Kickin' It at the Kick Off

One of my children's favorite DVDs is about a boy who is saving all of his money for weeks to buy new computer chips for his fighter robot. The more chips, the more power. He goes to the store to stare longingly at the display window, dragging his best friend along. His friend protests the pointless trips as he is not nearly so enamored with the robot games. The boy wanting the new chips pleads with his friend in a Vader-ish voice, "Come now, give in to the dork side."

This is kind of how I felt this past weekend. The NaNoWriMo kick off party in my area was so close to my house I felt guilty about the thought of not attending. Plus there was going to be pizza. When I pictured the types of people who might be there I wasn't really envisioning other people "like me." I let my mental picture be completely stereotypical. I won't tell you what I was picturing, but I will tell you that I went and found that my stereotype was almost completely correct. But you know what? I just went along with it and gave into my own dork side. I had a pretty good time. I didn't meet any lifelong friends, but it was fun to feel a part of something. And I won a door prize. Probably the best thing I took from it was how everyone really really had low expectations of what they could churn out in a month and it was OKAY. That was what stopped me cold last year. I couldn't believe how crappy it was. But this year I'm wading through the crap and just enjoying myself. Low and behold, I'm almost 5k into it on the third day.

I just might do it!

Happy Halloween Everyone!

We generally don't get into Halloween all that much, but since the kids are getting older we're trying to make sure we have some fun traditions at this holiday time. We try to accentuate the fun and the silly rather than the scary. We don't really like scary at our house.

And of course, any excuse to have candy is okay by me. Do any of you have any fun Halloween traditions besides the standard pumpkin carving and Trick-or-Treating?

I must be insane

I'm sorry. I don't write. When I don't write I don't blog. Right now, I grow. And growing seems to be enough.

But I'm changing all that. My husband is leaving the country for half of November and I'm terrified. As it is I'm barely keeping daily life flowing. So, heck, why not add NaNoWriMo to the To Do list while I'm solely responsible for 2.5 kids and a home?

At least I'm excited about something.

If I write anything that isn't crap, I'll share.

Good luck, fellow WriMos.

Corner Rounder

I've got myself a tool

In my little box for crafts

It takes the ugly points

Off paperscraps and photographs

For on the page and in your art

It's roundness that you want

With polka dots and curlyQs

And softly scripted font

The curves and waves and rounded lace

Are beautiful to see

So why do I feel so ugly

Now someone's corner rounded me!

13 years

Today is the Anniversary. The one that slaps me in the face with memories. She was my friend, she was my niece, but she could have been my sister. She was almost 15. I was 16. It was my first experience with death.

I'd watched the cancer suck her away bit by bit for four years. First her hand, then her breasts, small and budding as they were, then, finally, her lungs. She was always so delicate to begin with, but with that coy smile and the thick chestnut hair she'd never cut in her life until the chemo started. The cancer made her more fragile, like a pristine doll, her long fingernails her one grasp on beauty.

As children she laughed shyly at my jokes and giggled at our dress up play. We meticulously taught each other how to recreate our most prized artistic creations. We always slept in the same bed during visits.

While she was sick, my parents planned our hospital visits around when I would be sure to come, though I didn't know that at the time. She languished in her strange bed, but she listened and watched me and I tried to laugh. I began to mourn long before she passed.

I always believed she would live. She endured so much during the four years of her fight that I was sure she'd always come out on top. She was doing well, even dancing again and attending school, when we got the call to make the five hour drive as quickly as possible.

I didn't realize how close death was hovering. Her lips were dark beneath her oxygen mask, her eyes rolling in her head. I held her hand, waiting for her to notice I was there. I was alone with her for about 15 minutes, stroking those long nails and listening to her staggered breath. My pain was present, but isolated somewhere beyond me. I waited for her to show some comprehension before I told her I loved her, that she was my friend.

She began to struggle and I left the room in fear, calling for my sister. I went outside. My dad was showing my nephew how to shoot a BB gun. 5 minutes. When I went back inside everyone was crying, saying "At least she's not in pain anymore." My pain still lingered outside myself. I knew it was there, but I couldn't touch it. I'd been the last one before her mother to be with her before she passed.

I went in to see her. There she was, just where I'd left her, but she wasn't there anymore. That was clear. I expected her to look peaceful. She just looked dead. It took a while to cry. When the pain finally came gushing in, I thought it would never go away.

She taught me about death. She made me realize that I really do believe that I'll see her again. I don't mourn for her, but for those she left. I mourn for my sister, who might have had grandbabies by now.

She would be nearing her 28th birthday today. With every year the woman I am and the girl she was grow further apart, but I truly know in my heart that she is accomplishing something great just beyond my sight. She is a beautiful soul. She is my Moriah.