It stuns me

that I've been married over 18 years and neither my husband nor my child know what I like to eat...

I'm mulling over my new year's resolutions - yes I make them. I'll jabber about them tomorrow when I'm not drowning in to dos.

;-)

Texas FIGHT!

Oh, man.

Nice game.

:D

I do love when the Horns win.

*nods happily*

Really, really.

my daughter and her fish

are vaguely odd.

Dee - the fish - has a broken back. A - the daughter - is having histrionics.

Now, I maintain that if the fish is in pain, the kind thing to do is to kill it and then we'll go buy another fish. The child is less than enamored with this concept.

*arches an eyebrow*

It's a goldfish.

*sighs*

*goes back into the fray*

looks around

I've been working for hours and have gotten nothing done. I've set up an appointment with an accountant, we have a fax number now, lalalalala

And I still need to go to the grocery store. Christ.

Good things - yesterday was fun and fabulous. Lorna and I wandered and all. I'm ready for bullriding to start up again; I have books and quilts and I've decided I want to go see Steel Magnolias for my birthday. I also have reservations for a Japanese tea ceremony with Larry set up on the 20th and then there's the cruise. Taking Mother to the Lion King in February before Lorna and I head to Houston for that rodeo. Then EPICcon, Austin's rodeo (we're going twice), Houston for RT in April, NYC in June, RWA in July...

It's not all sucktastic.

It's just all busy.

Say it with me - Tim McGraw on a boat

Today, Miss Lorna and I are going to play a little - explore Georgetown, have lunch, wander. There are 3 - count 'em 3 - quilt shops near her. ;-)

I have my new boots on, I have my comfy sweater. I'm ready.

I dreamed last night that I was Alan Jackson's daughters' nanny. It was incredibly unsatisfying, really, and rather realistic. They were vegetarians and ate a lot of curry.

O.o

*sings the Tennessee Waltz with Emmylou Harris*

I do love that song and I love how her voice sounds like a fiddle.

In one month, I will be packing for my cruise.

O.O

Tim McGraw on a boat.

Jesus, no matter how many times I type that, it still makes me grin like the world's biggest idiot.

Because, you know.

Tim McGraw.

On a boat.

And we'll have Chris Cagle and Bill Engvall and Neal McCoy.

*grins*

Man, I need a better camera.

Because, you know.

Tim McGraw on a boat.

;-)

So, I have to tell you

Sometimes I remember why I stay married to the boy.

Christmas Eve and Christmas day are sterling examples.

After all the to do, I went to bed. Literally. For hours.

The boy dug out the water line in the freezing rain. He made the kids decorate the house. He cleaned. He refused to let Christmas die. Not only that? He was weirdly thoughtful in my Christmas gifts - I got the boots and the book I asked for (stunning lace-up brown leather boots and Stephen King's new hardback), plus a romance novel for bedtime reading, a huge stuffed bear to remind me never to grow up, a belly ring with cherries (which he said was to remind me of my wild side), a flip-flop bookmark, and a lovely garnet ring.

Then my angel baby made me a morning glory desk fairy. Look and see.

so we're coming on day three without water

and we can't get a plumber to come out because of the weather.

I quit.

I'm cancelling Christmas altogether.

I'll give the kid her stuff when she wakes up and then I'm going to bed until New Years. See everyone then.

Merry fucking holidays.

I've got the pork roast cooking

and the chickens are next.

I've checked and rechecked my tamale facts.

I think I'm ready to try this as the grownup.

It's funny, isn't it? All these little things that you slowly pick up and take on as yours. I mean, there have been hundreds of them over the last 25 years or so. I became the wife, the mom. I am the maker of supper and the keeper of the check book. The business owner. The housekeeper and the taxi and weird-but-fun auntie pooh.

Every time there's something else that I pick up, there's a mixture of emotions - sorrow because that means I've lost another part of being young, nostalgia because I'm keeping those memories alive, pride because that is what I was put here to do, pure unadulterated fear because what if I can't do it?

Then I feel this connection to the universe, spine-deep, that says that what I'm feeling is what my mother felt, what her mother felt, and on and on and on. That this transitioning through things is perfectly expected and completely normal and that, for millennia, women have stood where I do and felt that pang inside them as they honored the tradition of the people that they loved. That, one day, my daughter will be standing in a kitchen and watching the holidays come and feeling this same mixture of pain and peace and pleasure.

You know, growing up is a real pain in the ass.

15 minutes is still 15 minutes even if it's late, right

I was restless as all get-out last night, so I overslept this morning and didn't do my normal blogging.

So.

Here I am at the office, blogging.

I have a bunch of little random Christmas gifts that coworkers have given me - a little glass angel, an oriental bookmark, a coffee cup, a hello kitty pen - it'll all go up on the shelf with the other bunch of random things I've collected over the years.

I actually had a spark of Christmas spirit this morning and have decided to make tamales this weekend. I've never made them without Terrie, but I have faith. I'm going to do pork and chicken ones and I'm going to rope the girls and L into the traditional fun. bwahahaha

*ahem*

It's something, right? Proof of my not-complete-denial of the holiday?

I'm not sure what I think about chocolate tamales.

Oh!

Soup.

I made the best soup on Tuesday - honest to god.

1 lb. hot italian sausage
1 lb. diced bacon
1 diced onion
3 well-scrubbed and diced potatoes
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 cans chicken broth
2 cups chopped kale
salt and pepper
2 cups half-and-half

Cook and crumble the italian sausage. Drain. Put to the side. Cook the bacon and onions. Drain. Put to the side. Boil the potatoes and garlic in the stock until tender (20ish minutes). Add the meat and simmer for 10 minutes. Add the salt and pepper and kale and stir until the kale *just* wilts (2 minutes, maybe). Add the half and half and heat through.

Uhn.

Uhn.

Uhn.

:D

It's raining

and cold and the first season of Project Runway is on and I have coffee and to do lists and...

Yeah.

Here I am in my soft pink shirt and my houseshoes and my new coffeecup (which says "And your crybaby winy opinion would be?"). There are biscuits in the toaster oven, a shepherd puppy at my feet, and all the laundry's done.

I might live.

Amarillo by Morning

We got the Strait from the Heart album when it came out in '82. I can remember listening to it with Mother in the car (on KSCS, which is still the country music station that you get the best reception on in Greenville - did you know it won the CMA award this year for country station? Pretty cool, really. It's one of the things I miss most about Christmas in that area - the no-commercial all-night country music Christmas Eve is burned into my soul as part of what Christmas really is) and just *singing*. I loved the fiddles best, the way they sobbed together. It still gives me goosebumps, 25 years later.

My mother hates all things cowboy now, but she didn't at the time. Hell, at the time we were knee deep in her Mother Earth, heavy-duty rural stage. (She grew out of it, Daddy, not so much. Me? I'm eternally stuck all over the map, but that's not new.) And I thought that George Strait was the epitome of cowboy.

Hell, I still think he's a damn fine cowboy, along if I had to choose a cowboy singer to smile over, it'll be Chris Ledoux...

Of course, my daddy? He's my favorite cowboy, no question.

Now that I'm older, the whole idea of the song has changed - the whole dogged, I *will* do this, goddamnit, I will be free of what they want me to be thing? It resonates.

It makes me grin and nod in that old, crusty, yeah buddy sort of way.

I've been having the strangest stress dreams

And man, it doesn't matter how much/hard I sleep, I'm not rested.

I think part of it's the weather - it's in the mid-80s, it's humid, and it's oppressively heavy. I'd turn on the a/c but, well, it's December and damn, it's expensive.

I haven't gotten my shit together, xmas-wise. I'm beginning to think I won't even bother. Which isn't as depressing as it sounds, I don't think. It could possibly be freeing.

*leans and sighs*

The business is keeping me busier and busier and the writing is piling up on the back end and my day job is still utterly fubar and I'm whining again, which is bad for me, so I ought to stop, put my big girl panties on and go put gas in my car and head to work.

Working working lalala.

Sunday is meeting day

At least until next week when Saturday becomes meeting day so that I'm meeting the same day that Mr. Bird has karate and so that he and I can have Sunday morning together.

Pancakes and to do lists. *nods*

Lorna's house is coming together. I helped her unpack a wee bit and build a little table dealie and put up a bookshelf. I think her house is going to be sweet as anything.

Man, I can't *believe* it's almost Christmas. A week from tomorrow. I had such big plans for this year and they've sort of melted away into a little less than.

Still. I have stuff for the kid. Life is good.

In other news, I made carnitas tonight and they were good. I need to make tamales.

I need a nap.

;-)

back on the 15 minute wagon

I went garage saling this morning before my face started acting up - I really need to rope Lorna into doing it next tie. Alone it's much less fun. I did fine some great old cookbooks for the collection and saw some neat xmas decorations.

Is there anything as depressing as those inflatable ones all deflated in the front yard, though? Christ. That's like... melty Christmas.

My office is now where the dining room was. The kitchen table's in the front room. I'm still getting used to things, but so far, so good. I can see the TV now without turning around but it's nowhere near as loud.

We went to IKEA yesterday post-MRI. There's a table there that I keep looking at, but... Eh. It's just not *my* table. I did buy laundry sorters and hangers and such and Miss L bought this neat butcher block that she made into a table.

*stretch*

On to do day's list? Lots of cleaning, lots of working, lots of writing. I need to finish that hoodie I'm crocheting, depending on my face.

Giada DeLaurentis looks vaguely terrifying in badoing pink.

Hmmm. I need to make carnitas. I need to go buy tortillas if I make carnitas...

I need to make tamales. Chicken and green chile ones. Pork ones.

I've never made tamales without Terrie.

*grins and tears up*

Okay, pain pill. Cleaning. Working. Writing. Lalala.

MRIs trump 15 minutes of blogging

I survived. No results yet. The pictures did, in fact, show I had a brain.

Poetry Thursday - Streets

Read
A map
Rivers and roads
Pits, valleys and mountains
Planes, hills, forests and seas
Wrinkles, scars, tissue skin
My laugh lines
A face
Life

ramble ramble big old bird

man,it was weird not to have Lorna here last night.

I mean, really.

The dogs keep looking for her, I kept turning to tell her something. Top Chef was on and there was no Lorna to snark with. ;-)

*grins*

Of course, I did completely rearrange half of my house...

I think I have less to say today than most days. Part of that is that I'm tired. Part of it is that I forgot to set my alarm when I went to bed at 3 am, so I didn't take up at 7:30, but at 8:15. Part of it is that it's Thursday and I have to go to the grocery store and post office and I need to call and pay bills and...

O.O

Good lord.

And is it just me or has there been an upswing in spam?

day three of the rambling 15 minutes of glory

well, so far, so good.

I'm up, dressed, ready for work (:P).

I didn't get to sleep until incredibly late last night, but I didn't sleep very well, either and was productive while I was up, so it was probably for the best. ;-)

I have to run to the post office this morning, then into the office. Tomorrow I need to get Larry to go over to the vets and get heartworm meds, Friday I have another MRI. Then it's Saturday. Again. Woo.

I still haven't gotten Amanda her big gift. Hell, I still haven't pulled something out of the freezer for supper...

They denied Mr. Bird's unemployment claim yesterday, saying he didn't make enough money. *sigh* Someone explain this to me, please? He's in a professional position, he's helping people, and you have to make more than him to qualify for unemployment?

Jesus Christ.

We're (of course) appealing the decision.

I keep looking at things and going, okay. Are you *trying* to push? Am I going the wrong direction? *sighs*

Okay, enough with the pity party - the booze and appetizers suck and the company's atrocious.

*looks at the clock* Ten minutes. *grins* I'm pretty good at calling that...

I'm not terribly good at worrying about 'one day' or wanting. It's not my style. I'm much more of a 'how bad do you want it' broad (and doesn't that word look weird when you type it?). I decided, oh, six years ago, probably, that I was done wanting to do and wanting to be. I would either do or take steps to do or not do. It's worked for me thus far, really.

I mean, we have the press. I write. (And man, it still *rocks* to tell people, "I'm a novelist and I run a small press" when they ask what I do for a living). I have a passport (which may seem to be a ridiculous thing to want, but you have to understand, no one in my immediate family has a passport. It's just not what we *do*, so to actually follow through and be able to say, I got one. I can travel? Is a bigger thing in many ways than starting the business or the writing career. Starting a business is normal. Hell, following your dreams? Normal. Travelling? No so much. I am actually considering going somewhere. This is not a natural bird trait.)

*grins*

Time's up. Gotta work.

So I'm sitting and thinking

And yes, I know that I've already rambled for 15 minutes, but I need more today.

I spend a bit of time reading blogs - it is my way of exploring - from food to writing to ideas to images of places I haven't been yet (which has changed a little from places I'll never go because I'm discovering that I'm not a terrible traveler and that, although I love home most of all, I'm not scared of exploring, either). Sometimes I read these amazing thoughts of people and it makes me feel 2 inches tall because I'm not a deep woman, I'm not incredibly witty or fascinating in that breaktaking sort of way.

I mean, honestly, I'm clever and busy and I have that home-grown, common-sensical bent which has its place, but there are times I want to be sauve and sophisicated and practically perfect and it grates that I can't. Because you know, I'm really, honestly, just who I am and 95% of the time, I love that, and even the other 5% of the time I'm practical enough to know that I'd hate me if I was like that.

But there's always a bit of you that wants desperately to try to be someone else for a little bit, isn't there?

I suppose that's why I write.

And, if I'm honest, I suppose that's why I write people that are down-to-earth, cracked, not incredibly sophisticated and incredibly polished, isn't it?

Because, when you get down to brass tacks, I read about those amazing, cosmopolitan people, but I don't love them and I don't wrap them under my skin and breathe life into them.

Self-Portrait Tuesday

See me. See me participate.

My thoughts are in Paradise

May you pass easy, Ron, and may there be no pain on the other side, only eternal summer.

Uncle Mark, you know I love you and you know where I am if you need me.

*yawns*

Man, I'm not sure this getting up 1/2 an hour earlier thing to read for 15 minutes and journal for 15 minutes thing is worth a hill of beans...

Well, I went to the doc yesterday and got my official annual 'gee, you still have the most painful medical condition known to man' note. I also am seeing an upswing in the MS symptoms, so off to the happy land of brain MRI I go.

I know it's the stress, but doctors do love to shove fat chicks in the little tube and bang with them magnetic resonance...

I managed to get things done yesterday - go me. I found us an accountant, call about a zillion people, organized marketing and anthology and and and...

Tell me why the to do list isn't empty. Hmm?

I need to have the child drive us around a little. She needs to practice. She's surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly) good at driving. For all that everyone teases me, I have had no accidents (knock wood) and only one ticket in twenty years of vehicular toodling.

Started working on a novel yesterday, we'll see how/if it holds my attention for more than 30 seconds. Given that this morning I can't remember the characters? I'm experiencing doubt.

Ah, here we are at the 10 minute stretch...

I'm still unsure about Christmas - from tree to cookies to plans. I'm still unsure about a lot of things, of course, and god knows that has never stopped me from gaily galumphing forward.

I know I can't consider Christmas until my house is more in order.

*sigh*

Ah, the great huge waffling bird lady.

I think I'm going to get a puppy for Christmas. A has a dog. Mr. Bird has a dog. I need a dog that loves me best.

*nods*

Lorna needs a dog worse than I do.

But I want a little dog that likes to go in the car and take walks.

*whispers* Or maybe a great dane that likes to go in the car and take walks, which it utterly impractical, but I want one...

*loves her dogs (one of whom is currently staring at my apple pie (breakfast of champions, hush Velma, I've fallen off the wagon and can't seem to climb back on))*

Weekly haiku - prompt 'closer'

A snake dwells inside
Dragging his scales along nerves
Keeper of secrets

It's funny - I'm really quite tired of having nothing interesting to say, so I suppose I'll ramble aimless for fifteen minutes and be uninteresting, but long-winded *snort*.

My house is in a complete disarray and I forsee extensive cleaning/reorganizing/furniture moving in my future. I hate the mess and need it dealt with asap. It just nags and nags and nags. I moved the big sewing cabinet over to L's house so that I have a spot to work when I'm there. Go me. Of course, now I need to find a place for the sewing crap...

I also need to hit the HEB today for cokes, dog biscuits, milk, and toilet paper. *checks the fridge and pantry* And lentil soup, gatorade, bread and bananas. I still need to get a few holiday presents, mail a bunch of shit I hadn't intended to ship, and get some stuff to Velma.

I'm supposed to Christmas cookie with Velma, but I'm not sure I'm in a cookie-friendly place: financially, emotionally, spiritually or otherwise. Part of me says, but it's Christmas. Part of me says, prove it. A huge part of me says, Jesus christ, woman! You have 80,000 things to do, a torn up house, a depressed unemployed husband, a child who *makes* cookies for a living and threatened revolt if forced to make more and you're so behind you'll never die! Are you *stupid*?

*grins and shrugs and makes with the Scarlett O'Hara* I'll worry about it tomorrow after the neurologist appointment and the post office and the grocery and helping L finish moving the last of her stuff and...

Wait.

Tomorrow's production night.

I'll worry about it Wednesday.

*nods*

Wednesday.

Maybe Thursday.

Lord.

I really need to see when the Grinch cartoon comes on this year. I'll be pissed if I missed it already.

*looks at the clock*

Man, I rambled for 10 minutes already (and got the boy out the door to do a little contract job ($20 an hour is better than $0 an hour), let the dogs in and out and in and out and in, turned off the forgotten alarm clock, answered emails and emailed my day-job boss - what can I say, I multi-task).

I had something deep to think about last night, but damned if I can remember it this morning. That, of course, either means it was truly, inspirationally, mind-blowingly deep, or it means that I was sleepy and it was completely and utterly full of shit. If I was going to wager on it? I'd go for full of shit, but that's just me.

Man, I need to start a pot of coffee and transfer over the day's to do list and grab my kitchen timer. *grins* You mean you don't know about the color-coded daily to do list of doom? I have 6 colors (Torquere - pink, writing - purple, day job - orange, house work - blue, web work - yellow, personal/misc - green) each color gets 15 to 45 minutes each, depending on daily focus and I move through crap with abandon. Sort of.

Usually.

Periodically.

Of course, there is shit on the list that has been there for *months*.

Of course, the 'blog for 15 minutes to clear your head' to do is just done, so I don't have to share which ones those are...

I don't have much to say

I'm still busy.

I'm kind of tired.

I'm functioning.

I'm catching up on the to do list.

Most of my day is being spent in to-do's and plans. Yesterday we moved a lot of Ms. L's stuff. The husband got an offer to lay network for $20 an hour tomorrow, so yay. That'll pay for the doctor's appointment I have at 4:30 ;-)

*grins*

Okay, time to nag the husband into moving my office.

A prayer to the Universe

Okay, now. You've been very clear the last few weeks. Changes are coming. I hear you. I'm trying to listen and follow instructions, but you're being esoteric as all get out and I'm real close to breaking and, I'm not sure you remember, being all all-encompassing and stuff, but it's damn hard to read universal maps when you're having a fury-driven breakdown. I've never been one to fight your will because, hell, I figure anything stronger willed than me deserves to be listened to. So, I tell you what, you show me where to step, I'll make it work. Let's avoid any more major shitstorms for a bit, though, shall we? I'd appreciate it.

Amen, blessed be, and have a nice day.

S.

off to run errands

I need cigarettes and coke and possibly donuts before I come home and start cleaning/working.

I have this month's bills paid, barring Larry's truck and his credit card.

I'm going to order A's Christmas, pick up Lorna's gift and then I'm done - if I had something for someone, go me. If not, too bad. I keep reminding myself of the December of 1997, when we were living on borrowed time and the food bank and the kindness of strangers, when I put the Christmas tree up to prove I believed things would work out. Today, I am lacking hope. Faith? I got that in spades, but I'm not so much on the hope right now.

home

I came home from Arkansas to find that the husband has lost his job.

Fair warning - I am not participating in holiday joy right now. In fact, right now I am not partcipating in anything. Period.

My step-father, Leo Piland, died of a massive heart-attack on December 1, 2006. Fortunately Lorna and I were in Fort Worth and could drive, first to Shreveport, then to Arkansas.

I'll be home Tuesday.