I had my toast on my plate on the kitchen table along with the tub of margarine (open) and jam (open-can’t remember what kind but it has three fruits in it), and since I was talking to my friend John about something completely unrelated to getting my toast ready, I put the jam on before the margarine.
Wow, that was not as exciting a story as I thought it would be.
I had a dream the other morning that I was at the concert I’m going to in Tokyo in November and I was stuck at the back of the hall and there were no lights on the stage (which was tucked into the corner of the room) so I missed the entire show. I think that qualifies as a nightmare, don’t you?
So I’m going to Kingston today and staying over night to get a break. The Kingston Writer’s Fest is on this weekend and I’m hoping to get tickets to an event tomorrow – if I do, I’ll try to write about the experience next week. I’m also hoping to get together for coffee this afternoon with our gracious badge-maker and host of the blog, “My Leaky Boat.” It’s gonna be fun!
Now I’m off to wash all my sheets and blankets – the cat peed on my bed sometime yesterday. Luckily it’s a nice day out, so it should all dry on the line.
I often wonder where my ideas come from. My stories seem to come out of the ether, as do the characters in my fictional works. Sometimes I’m inspired by something tangible, like a picture, a song, or another story or even a line I’ve read – sometimes it’s even a passing thought, like “what if?” But no matter where it comes from or what I do, it ends up twisted. And I swear to God, it’s not on purpose. It happens. My fingers take me places I can’t, and don’t, imagine… kinda. It’s hard to explain, because of course it’s coming from my imagination. But at the same time it seems to be coming from elsewhere, like a voice whispering in my ear.
So now that you think I’m nuts…
I have to wonder how much of it is genetic. My father was a creative guy. He made up stories, he played the guitar, his wit was extremely quick. (I’m sure that’s where my eldest son gets his wit from, though his dad (my ex) is a funny guy too.) I wish my father had lived long enough to tell me more of his inner thoughts. No father in his right mind would tell his adolescent daughter about the darker side of his thoughts. It would be fascinating though, to understand whether there’s anything to these twists that are more from my background and less from the ether.
Unless, of course, my father is the one whispering in my ear.
Distemper, datemper… which temper do you want? You know, sometimes you just want to edit. But you can’t. So here we go.
I’ve been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes trying to come up with a word with “temp” in it that doesn’t mean it will soon go away: temporary, CONtemporary (new now, old tomorrow), tempus fugit (time flies), temperature (when does that ever stay consistent?) (okay, if you live in the desert maybe it pretty much does), template. Template! It’s something you use so that you can recreate the same thing over and over – without changing it!
Now what?
I suppose I can still talk about how things change, but that’s so depressing, isn’t it? Unless I’m sad, then I want things to change for the better. Contentment is so rare though, isn’t it? When I am content I try my best to stay in the moment, to remember details, and to enjoy it to the fullest. Contentment scares me though. I have to say I’m pretty happy with the way my life is at the moment. All three of my kids live at home, and they’re all relatively healthy (Alex has a lingering cough, but it’s nothing life-threatening) and they’re all relatively happy as well, and busy with their lives. It all makes me wonder what’s going to happen next. I try not to speculate. Again, stay in the moment. Just stay in the moment, Linda. Enjoy it. Even when I’m being kept awake at 2 am by a coughing kid… Yeah.
Sometimes enjoying my contentment is more of a challenge than others.
I have a hard time staying seated. When I’m writing or editing I have to get up at least every half an hour or so. I sometimes walk into the kitchen, see that there’s really nothing to munch on (because I’ve been smart enough not to buy anything to munch on) and go back to the computer empty-handed. That’s a good thing. I could so easily gain a hundred pounds without even trying if I gave in to all the temptations. Hey, there’s another word that’s not temporary… or is it? I suppose if temptations were constant they’d grind us down so much that they would no longer be temptations but reality instead. So yeah, temporary.
I’m going to temporarily leave reality now… (which means temporary unconsciousness… stream of unconsciousness Saturday… SoUS… French for suck… this really sucks, doesn’t it? Hahahahahahahaha!)
Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to is this week’s! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but me.
As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
“When was the last time you felt truly rejuvenated and energized? What made you feel that way?”
–but by the title of it. The Young and the Rested.
The fact is, I’ve been at home with the young’uns for the last two weeks of the summer without much of a break. Consider my challenges: Sunday dawned bright and early and Alex, my youngest, wanted to go on a bus ride with his brother. First he had to feed, a process which takes about two hours via feeding pump. So we were sitting around the table, Alex and I and my BFF John, playing a rousing game of Life (the board game) while he fed, when Alex decided it was time for his brother to wake up. I said no, they couldn’t leave for another hour, let him sleep a bit more. Unplug me from my pump, Alex demanded. I don’t want to eat anymore, I want to go now. This was not an option; he turned the pump off anyway. I told him that if he wanted to continue to play his game he had to feed. No way, he said. So I walked away.
He proceeded to follow me around the house, digging his fingers into me to get my attention whilst screaming. Fine, I said, stop screaming and poking me or go to your room.
Okay, I’ll go to my room, he said. With the pump off (still) he went to his room. After a while I told him he could come out if he would turn on his pump. No way, he said. I want to go on the bus, to which I replied, You’re not going on the bus until your feed is finished.
The argument began at 9:30 am. It finished when I finally force-fed him by syringe at 1pm. The consequence, no bus.
This is a typical day for me at home with Alex. He gets something into his head that he wants to do and he will absolutely not consider the consequences of his actions. He’s an adolescent still going through his terrible twos. It takes him hours to give in – and I’m consistent! And as patient as anyone I have ever met. Of course there is the language barrier – he is Deaf and I am hearing. Although my sign language is limited, I still have to believe that after almost 15 years of living together I can at least get my point across on the most basic level.
He’s also sick with that awful summer cold that’s going around, which is really where all this ties in with the prompt. Last night he woke up coughing at 1:40 am. I gave him something that I thought might help (doctor prescribed codeine) but it didn’t. At 4 am I finally gave in and let him watch a movie in bed. So neither of us are rested… and I’m old.
When was the last time I felt truly rejuvenated and energized? The early nineties. Before I started having kids. Parenting is such fun, isn’t it?
If we can say there’s no rest for the wicked, then at two in the morning when my child gets me out of bed I can safely say something weary this way comes. ~ Quote courtesy of my brain without sleep.
Anyone who would like to try it out, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post, and if you do, you can ping back here to help your blog get more exposure. To execute a ping back, just copy the URL in the address bar on this post and paste it somewhere in the body of your post. Your link will show up in the comments below. Please ensure that the One-Liner Wednesday you’re pinging back to is this week’s! Otherwise, no one will likely see it but me.
As with Stream of Consciousness Saturday (SoCS), if you see a ping back from someone else in my comment section, click and have a read. It’s bound to be short and sweet.
Unlike SoCS, this is not a prompt so there’s no need to stick to the same “theme.”
The rules that I’ve made for myself (but don’t always follow) for “One-Liner Wednesday” are:
It all started last night – two fruit flies sat on the edge of a ledge in my kitchen. Side by side. So close that I could kill them both with one slap. I wound up for the hit (they were big fruit flies, okay?) and I… missed. The fruit flies that is. What I hit was the fruit fly trap (that’s not working). It fell off the shelf knocking a wine glass into the sink where it broke. Damnit! I thought. I smashed a wine glass for nothing.
But that’s not where it ended.
This morning I was getting Alex ready for camp. He followed me into the kitchen and started complaining that his foot hurt. I didn’t get a chance to look at it; someone knocked at the door. While I dealt with that, Alex began to scream. He didn’t come out of the kitchen and the man at the door (the postman) is Deaf, so I ignored Alex and finished up with the postman. When I got back into the kitchen there was blood everywhere. It took me a while to figure out where it was coming from – turns out there was a cut–a hole actually–on the bottom of his foot. Yes, the fruit flies strike again.
So while I was discussing with Alex whether or not he would go to camp, Chris, my Autistic son came downstairs and began to insist I take Alex out of the house. He had plans to spend time in the living room (rather than the computer room where he locks himself whenever his little brother is home). When Chris has plans, they’re not easily changed. He ranted. He yelled. He swore. He threatened. He banged doors and hit walls. And then he went for a walk. Luckily by the time he came back he’d calmed himself – he even apologised and gave me a hug. I still couldn’t help imagine what might have happened if he’d been hit by a car or something while he was out. It’s the writer in me… and I’ve always had a bit of a morbid imagination. Anyway, I could just see it.
Officer: What happened, Ma’am?
Me: Well you see, it all began with an attempted murder… of two fruit flies.
The morals of the story? Karma’s truly a bitch. And never underestimate the significance of a fruit fly.
It’s been a busy day. So busy, in fact, that I’m getting this post in just under the wire. My attention has been widely divided today between sick family members (nothing life threatening though) and needy ones. Alex was, as usual, the most needy. I went on a nice bus ride with him today between thunderstorms which he hates so much he has to hide under my arm when he sees lightning outside. And then Chris wanted to go and see Antman, which I didn’t even know existed until he told me he wanted to go to it. While he was at the movies I devised a way to sit for a couple of hours to work on my editing.
To devise… the present tense of the word must be division, mustn’t it? Or is it devision. Spell check doesn’t like that one. But yeah, to have to devised a plan has to be to have made a devision. Or a division.
Do you ever look at a word for so long that it no longer makes any sense? When it happens to me, I tend to canoodle new words into my vocabulary. I’m not even sure I just used the word “canoodle” correctly, but it sounds good and this is stream of consciousness writing and I’m not allowed to go back and edit it…
*waves goodbye to my last paragraph as it drifts off into the wavy sea of internet land*
Is that really the time? I’ve been trying to sit down at the computer all day. But with the kids going away for two weeks to their dad’s – yes, two whole weeks kidless – I’ve been running around like a headless horseman… where did that come from?… trying to take care of everyone. No, that doesn’t mean I’ve packed a damned thing. But Alex wanted to spend time with my mother and Chris needed his chicken McNuggets and Alex wanted to play Life (dad doesn’t have Life… the game that is. He has a life) and do a puzzle and later we have to build Lego… Maybe I can convince him to help me pack.
Packing isn’t a big deal for me. I regularly pack the night before I go on a plane trip, to stay somewhere for a couple of weeks. If I’m gone for a weekend I pack a few minutes before I walk out the door. I remember making long long lists once upon a time. Especially when I went camping. Ah, I used to love camping. Now I don’t think my body could take it.
Speaking of my body, I have a mosquito bite on the bottom of my foot. On the ball of my foot. Feels great just to stand up. My shoulder is almost back to normal, and with only one visit to the physiotherapist. He gave me a bunch of exercises to do, but it seems like it was going to get better no matter what. I think the steroid injection did most of the work.
Speaking of work, I think I’m just about finished my edits on my novel. I need a few people to read the first couple of chapters though, to tell me if it makes any sense. I’m too involved in it to tell. I read it and I think it’s okay, but I’m not sure if it sounds pretentious. I dunno. Any volunteers?
So now I’m trying to decide what the title of this post alludes to. SoCS is good for some things, like getting everything out of the mind that’s been sitting there for a while. Like clearing the cobwebs away from the back of the china cabinet that no one has moved in six years because they don’t want to take all the china out.
SoCS is bad for keeping on track on a subject. So let’s see… SoCS is…
I was going to write this post this afternoon but instead I took a three hour vacation nap. It was badly needed – that’s all I can say in my defense.
You may have noticed that I’ve kinda gone missing for the past week. And if you have, you might be wondering why. If so, you’re not alone. I’m wondering why too. My occupations of the past week have included but are not limited to having one of my kids home already on summer vacay (the other one’s last day was today), a weekend road trip to Montreal to see Rush in concert (they were awesome!), working on editing my novel (yes, still), watching Downton Abbey on Netflix (I’m so addicted, thanks Joey), and worrying about whether or not I’ve, somewhere down the road, (pun not intended) screwed up the numbering on my “Second Seat on the Right” series only to get to August 31st and find out that my year had more or less than 365 days. I mean seriously, how much would that suck?
All this to say I’m sorry for not reading a single One-Liner Wednesday (yet), neglecting my comments, and generally ignoring everyone on WordPress. If you’ve wondered why I haven’t visited your blog lately please don’t take it personally. At the moment you’re all on the continent and I’m set adrift at an overwhelming distance away. *waves*
Please send Big Macs via carrier pigeon. And if you do see me, I beg of you, don’t thumb your nose at me. I’ll be back, I promise.