A Brain in a Box

Thursday dawned... well, it got light out. Gray skies, a rather half-hearted rain, and freezing cold greeted me when I raised the garage door. Yikes! Into the breech.

I went to work. Things are backing up and they are beginning to intimidate me. I hope tomorrow will be a day that I'll get it all organized. I didn't get a lot done in the morning but my continued exhaustion is wreak havoc with my concentration.

I had lunch with my friend, Doug today. He's a brilliant friend, is Doug. You'd really like him. When the opportunity to have lunch with him arises, I'm thrilled. Fortunately these opportunities seem to arise when I'm having knotty problems with my story. Doug is the king of disentangling knotty story problems. Really, I don't know how he does it but it is as if he has this laser vision that cuts through layers and layers of tangled story. You hand it to him and suddenly, in minutes, lunch was only an hour remember, he hands you back the core of the story you were looking for but couldn't see. I left lunch with my prize, a brain in a box! Yep, Doug gave me a brain in a box and it is going to revolutionize my story.

No, really.

Seriously, it will.

Sigh. OK. So, it's only going to get me out of a corner that I boxed myself into when I introduced the box. Wow... it isn't a pun but it should be. But Simon is going to love this box. When I tell him.

The afternoon was much brighter, at least, in my mind. That brain in the box was a nice motivator. Staying focused was much harder but I managed to get more work done than I originally anticipated. But there's still piles.

I'm so tired and it is really silly to be sitting here writing a blog post. I can barely think straight and when I read this it sounds ridiculous. But that is what I do.

A Lack of Sleep

It has been a horribly long day. For the uninformed, from 6:30 Monday morning until 10:30 Tuesday night I had no sleep. I had a rash, according to local medical experts. Ah, the marvels of modern medicine. So, I was scared to sleep all day Tuesday for fear I would not sleep Tuesday night, something that did not present a problem at all as it turned out.

They gave me a cream to be applied every 4 hours and it works well to lessen the itching. No idea what it is.... long name ending in .. sone. Sounds like a steroid to me. They gave me some pills that the insert reported would cause dizziness, blurred vision, and assorted other frightening reactions. It suggested I not drive while taking. I felt it was good advice. I took it when I went to bed. The bottle said 1-3 pills as needed for itching. In light of the reaction list, I also felt it wise to err on the side of moderation. I took one pill. I slept fine and no itching. 

Of course, I was so tired I suspect Gabriel would have suffered a stroke blowing his horn to wake me up. In fact, I had a hard time getting up. I was really sleeping. I got up at 7:30 a.m. and had to be at work at 8 a.m. I was 10 minutes late. I had to stop for OJ and a sausage biscuit. Hey, I gotta eat. 

As soon as I got to work my day went loco. Move briefing at 8:20 and then one client after another until noon. I worked on files and mailed out notices. Lunch was at Captain D's. I don't think I was good company. I really wanted to sleep. My friend, Carolyn drove us to lunch and that was probably a good idea. 

The rest of the afternoon I worked on assorted things. I could barely concentrate and if you asked me what I did, I couldn't tell you. Just paper shuffling.

I stopped by the store on my way home to get some things to eat. I came home and had a salad. Dave brought Sarah home with him for the evening. Then I did dishes, mopped the floor, washed two loads of laundry, all before 8:30.

So that is where I end my day now. 9:58 p.m. and I'm done. I'm going to find my bed. I wonder why we say such things? My bed isn't lost. I know right where it is, right where it was when I got out of it. In fact, I'm going to seek it with joy... well, maybe gladness is more accurate. But that's another post for another day.

A Day in the Swamp

We've had rain for two days now.  Not a soft gentle spring rain. A cold, pouring rain that makes the ground squish when you walk. My legs and hips do not like it, no one little bit.

I was up all night last night. I have some kind of rash on my legs from my ankles to mid calf on the left leg and slightly lower on the right. It itched like mad all night and I was miserable. The only thing that helped was leaving my leg uncovered and with my heat at 60 degrees, that is not pleasant. So tonight I'll have to find a way to stay warm but not let the legs get over heated. The electric blanket made it much worse I think.

I am annoyed that my whole day was a waste. I have had no sleep but there is no way I could work or write or crochet. I lay on the couch like a slug, t.v. shows playing and I can't tell you what I watched! I could have got more editing done but my brain is basically slush.

Tomorrow is Wednesday and after a missed day of work it is going to be horrible. Well, it is what it is, I guess.

A Late Evening with the Dream Stealer

I'm headed off to bed but since I'm in a writing mood, I felt it only right that I post a short blog. Tonight was my online writers group and as usual it was entertaining. Such a nice group of friends I have and it is always fun.

However, I've been setting goals for myself the last several weeks. I spent a lot of time actually putting them down on paper, a calendar. I have to update it every weekend but that is actually helpful. Anyway, since today is Monday and I've finally reached a place where I think I've talked about it enough and filled in my calendar with my goals. I should start today.

May I have a drum roll please? Wait... maybe some soft music to set the mood. Something that builds up to the drum roll.

Where was I? Oh, the writing group closed slightly early for the evening; 8:30 is our usual time but tonight it was closer to 8:15. I did a few things, got a drink, and I sat down at my computer and opened Scrivener. I marked my time on my calender. It was 9 pm. I opened The Dream Stealer. Simon stepped off the pages and into my head.

The thing is a real mess as a result of writing in scenes. My usual method of writing is from point A to point Z. This works really well. The Dream Stealer began that way but in a stupid attempt to fill in holes, I wrote 50,000+ words in scenes out of sequence for NaNo in 2011. This is not a good way to write. It is really insane. I have a surplus of scenes that seem to belong nowhere. Maybe the next book? Hah! I have to finish this one. I have enough words to finish it but as I organize and structure the scenes I find there are still places that are all wrong. So, do I start over? I began to think I must. But there are some good scenes, a lot of them. I may not know a lot but I know when the writing is good.

Anyway, I stopped at 12:00 midnight mainly because my brain couldn't take anymore but also because I actually need sleep. Besides, sleep is where he's does his best work, I hear. Dreams are not safe from the Dream Stealer.

Car Slushies and Random Escapes

The sound of rain falling is just outside the study window. It is freezing cold, too. When I left work at five someone had poured a slushy all over my car and it clung it in clumps. Did I say it was freezing? Honestly, if the sun had been shinning I think it would have felt warmer but because frozen water was everywhere it felt like I had been transported to the North Pole... at least pretty close to it.

As a result of this lovely little front that pushed in with its frozen treat, I acquired a raging migraine. It started small, just before lunch. I thought lunch would make me feel better. It didn't. By two I had to take an Imitrex. At 4, I got very ill. That is what Imitrex does to me. I get sick before it gets better. It is now 8:45 and I still have a moderately bad headache and my nose is now stuffy. So, I will have to take something for the sinus issue and hope the head stops pounding. I will not sleep well with this headache. My neck is not good either but that is typical with these headaches. Thankfully, they have become much sparser in the last couple of years. I hope the trend continues. 

I enjoyed my little weekend getaway a lot and I am going to have to start doing something like that when I can. It was enough to break my sense of imprisonment. 

Did I say that? I suppose it is true. When Jerry died he left me stranded in a place where I have no family but my sons and granddaughter and one sister, who is also trapped. She has no one but us. In the current economic nightmare we call an economy, although there is nothing economic about it, you can't just up and leave a perfectly good job because you want to break out. So, random escapes may be the answer.

Bake me a cake, will ya?

A Hop, Skip & A Jump

Well, it seemed like that is what it was coming home yesterday. Tuesday dawned grey and rainy and stayed that way for about an hour. I left the city of Jonesboro in the great state of Georgia at 8 a.m. central time. That's 9 a.m. eastern... and the earliest I could leave if I wanted to miss Atlanta's notorious gridlock on the interstate. I still came to a standstill at Turner Field and from there, could have taken a horse and buggy on I-75 through downtown Atlanta faster than I made it through town on the car. It was 5 miles an hour when I could move at all and took at least 30 minutes to cover two miles. You can do the math if you're so inclined. I've already done it once, thank you.

Once through town I tried the Spanish cd but by the time I reached Dalton, Georgia I was feeling very sleepy. The gloom, boring scenery, and maybe I just wasn't awak yet. I popped in my Drifters cd and from there all the way to Evansville, Indiana I kept the music going. I played the three cds of the The Drifters and they carried me to Chattanooga, Tennessee. From there Patsy Cline got me almost to Nashville and was picked up by Frankie Valli's greatest hits. I hit Nashville just after noon and came to a crawl until I reached the other side of town at which point, Credence Clearwater Revival carried me all the way to Evansville, Indiana. I only stopped in Tennessee for lunch and twice at McDonalds to get a drink. I got home just after 4 p.m. And CCR was still singing when I switched off the car. Do you know that their version I Heard it through the Grape Vine is nearly 12 minutes long! And more than half that is instrumental, very good instrumental, too.

Did you also know that you can't dance in the car while driving? It is very frustrating.

Altogether, it was a rocking ride and I actually enjoyed it. Generally I really hate traveling alone. I think just the fact that I could relax all weekend, didn't have to deal with anyone's drama, run anyone anywhere, or do anything I didn't want to do actually left me fairly relaxed. I will return to work tomorrow much more rested than when I left on Friday.

I am now looking forward to that trip to Florida in May. Anyone want to go on a day long canoe trip with crazy but fun people? Lunch is included and we'll loan you a towel. Must have a good bladder as there are NO potty breaks for several hours. I do hope the weather cooperates again this year. We've done this for a couple of years now and I really love it. I think there're videos on Heart of Dixie - YouTube from the 2011 trip. Yep, it's there. But for some reason YouTube is glitchy and my videos stop in the middle for no reason! 

Would you believe I still have not done my taxes? I have begun to hate doing them more each year. It isn't hard. I don't have any money so it is relatively simple. I just hate doing Indiana state taxes! The most awful form I ever ran across and if you know me you know I've lived in several different states. Until last year you could file state taxes online here for free through the state. They stopped it. Now I'll have to pay to file it. So, they'll be getting a paper return. I'm betting I won't be the only one.

Away with me now. I have some work to do down the hall and I probably should put away the laundry. Another job I really hate. I don't mind doing the laundry until it gets to the sheets and towels. I usually will simply take them to the living room and put on a movie or watch a show while I do them. But I really hate it.

I only work two, count them, TWO days this week. Thank God for a job that allows me generous vacation time. I'm out of here for now. 

Hope everyone has a lovely weekend.

Mini Vacations in the South

I left Saturday at 9 a.m. headed for Jonesboro, Ga and I arrived around 5 p.m. CT. That's about when I expected to arrive, actually. I didn't stop for anything but the traffic jam in downtown Atlanta. There was an accident somewhere ahead and it took me about half an hour to get through a two mile stretch.

The trip was relatively uneventful. I gassed up in Henderson, Kentucky because fuel is about five cents cheaper there than it is across the river in Indiana. I popped in my Spanish language CD and for the next two hours I practiced Spanish. That is one very long CD! However, it got me to the Hopkinsville exit where I took a potty break and bought a diet coke that was fairly flat. However, I then plugged in the MP3 player with my old radio shows on it and from there all the way to Dalton Georgia I listened to Suspense. I had no idea I had that many radio shows on my MP3 player! It was really cool to be able to listen to them.

I stopped at the Lookout Mountain exit at 3 p.m. and had a very late lunch. I was going to stop earlier but I got off at an exit that the traffic flow was absolutely horrible and inconvenient. I got right back on the interstate and until I found another place better situated. I ate at Cracker Barrel and shopped a bit.

Once I arrived I was pretty much ready to get out of the car. However, there was a birthday party in progress and we were to go to dinner with my cousin and his family. It was nice to see them. Bed was a welcome retreat and it is a very comfortable bed. Sunday we went to church and then out to dinner with my Aunt & Uncle and my other cousin and his teenage boys and my other cousin's daughter. Nice kids and very entertaining.

I spent Sunday evening crocheting on Sarah's dress. It is taking shape.

Monday, today, we went to Juliette, Ga and had lunch at the Whistle Stop Cafe where they filmed Fried Green Tomatoes. I bought a copy of the movie. I always wanted a copy of it on DVD. It is one of my favorite movies and I'm looking forward to watching it again. I liked the tiny village lined along the street. The vendors are nice and not pushy and the food at the cafe was delicious. No, I did not eat barbecue ribs. I had fried chicken, collard greens, and white field peas with cornbread. I don't eat fried, green, tomatoes, southern girl though I am. I've never cared for them. I don't hate them, just don't find them appealing. However, I ate some here and actually, they're very good. They had a kind of chipotle sauce and the batter they cooked them in were both spicy and gave them more flavor. So, if they taste like the ones at the Whistle Stop, they're good. However, I can highly recommend the mixed berry cobbler a la mode. I could have eaten that right by itself.

It was very odd going into the cafe. I felt like I knew the place because I'd seen the movie and it is a favorite of mine. The sensation of deja vu was mild but present and not unpleasant. I'd like to come back when it is warm.

After we ate we strolled along the street and went into the half dozen shops. It was colder in some of the stores than it was outside. We went into Ruth and Idge's house and it was so warm. The lady there said she hated to be cold. So, take my advice, do this little jaunt on a nice spring day when everything is in bloom and green and warm.

Before we left we drove around the corner because one of the vendors said the big plantation house used in the movie is up for sale and we wanted to see it. I'm buying that when I meet that guy with the pots of money. Really.

We came home and I've been messing around on the computer while the aunt and uncle are at the funeral home visiting friends. I'll load the car soon and be ready to pull out tomorrow around 9 a.m. in the morning for Indiana.

I am off on Wednesday to recover from the drive and just relax a bit.

And that's a weekend vacation in the South for me. I need a whole bunch of them.

A Mish Mash of Maundering Melodrama

There are days when I totally forget my goal to post something every day. I've been going to work like a slave, plopping my butt in the chair and staying there until a specific amount of work is done. It is paying off for the moment but I don't know how long I can keep it up. I'm exhausted by the time I get home. And I'm annoyed because it has interfered with every plan I've made.

The only positive to this is that if I can do what I'm planning, I will be better off than I've been in a year. So, say a prayer that I can finish the items I have slated to finish by the 28th. Better yet, pray for no interruptions for the next two weeks. No phone calls, no walk-ins, no coworker catastrophes, and no boss ineptitude.

A real negative it that I've done none of the "real" writing I had planned. I'm simply too drained. I either read or I crochet, both of which requires minimal movement and occupies the brain in a way that decompresses me. Seriously, crochet is a very calming skill. You don't even have to be making anything important. A single stitch, four large skeins of your favorite color and a hook and you're set... for days if you want. If you hate it, you unravel it and make something else. When you're done, you don't remember what bugged you and you have a beautiful, warm wrap for the cold winter evenings with your favorite book.

I used to do quite a lot of crochet when the boys were small but got away from it. When Jerry died and I was cleaning out the closets I found this huge basket of yarn and some unfinished stuff. I also found one of those large popcorn tins filled with thread. So, I dragged it all out and once I started I realized that grief could be managed if you're under the influence of crochet. And now I'm making things like sweaters and dresses and shrugs! LOL, Sarah has at least 10 shrugs of various colors. A dress is nearly finished. I've made a friend a throw, am working on a afghan for Sarah, and another throw for someone else. It works.

Digression end.

But, no novel work and that ticks me off.

I leave for Atlanta Saturday. It is a six hour drive for me. I will return on Tuesday and go back to work on Thursday. Wednesday is a day of rest. David will be here while I'm gone. So, the house will be occupied by a 224 lb male with hands that can twist the head off a bull should you be so stupid as to break in. I once saw him shoot a mouse hiding beneath a chair in a lamp-lit bedroom with a pellet gun from 15 feet away. I told him he couldn't do it. He hit is twice and killed it. With something the size of a BB! He hit it twice! Oh, get over it. The mouse was trespassing. But while he owns no other firearms, he does have some other lethal weapons... silent ones.

Just sayin'.

I hope to relax during this jaunt. I'm carrying my Kindle, my laptop, crochet and my writing calendar. I need to just do the things I enjoy without anyone demanding something. My aunt and uncle will respect that. I'll have company and privacy. And she's a really good cook. . . with a dishwasher. I'll even load it!

The steroid course I was on has ended. I have had about three weeks without much pain and a brain that is operating at near normal levels. This week the hip is bugging me again. Not much, just reminding me that it is biding it's time. My back is really bothering me but I think this is because I've spent nearly a week sitting all day. I get up to talk with a client, check the mail, send a fax, return or get a file. I am in the very back of my office building. I have the longest jaunt to the files and front door. So I do get some activity. Some days I hate that walk to the front and will make the trip a dozen times before noon. On the plus side, if someone comes in and goes postal, I have the quickest escape route. The back door is just outside my door or I can shatter the window and step out. My car just 50 feet away.

I have no idea where that came from but it is always in my mind. We deal with some potentially unstable folks. Doesn't everyone these days?

I hate Valentines Day. I'm glad it is over.

Monday is another "holiday". I hesitate to call President's Day a holiday. It is not a Holy Day. It more aptly called an "honor day". I like that much better. I save my Holy Days for things that are truly worthy of the title.

And now, I'm going to bed. I've no idea what to call this post and recently read somewhere that titling blog post was a wasted effort. But I like catchy titles and I usually come up with good ones. Well, I think they're good.

Flight of the Week

I don't know where the week went. I've been so busy at work that I simply turned on the auto pilot and let the thing fly itself. We've landed, safely, at the weekend. I'm actually feeling physically better since they gave me the steroid. I have no idea what it has done to my blood sugar or triglycerides but I'm not thinking about it at the moment. It is nice to have practically no pain at all and feel as if I'm in my right mind for a change.

I've got plans. I work Monday and I'm off Tuesday. That will leave three days in the week to push through. They will be horrendous days of shoveling massive piles of files from one side of my desk, by way of entering the data into the computer, to the other side of my desk.

 On Monday night, the 11th, I have an Online Writers' Asylum meeting That's always fun. Agenda is sent out already.

On the 16th I'm driving down to Atlanta to visit my aunt and uncle. Monday, the 18th, is another holiday and I took Tuesday and Wednesday off. So, I'll stay until the 19th and come home on the 20th. I'm going alone. Dave will have Sarah that weekend and I'll miss that but he's got a friend who will be in town with her two little girls and they'll be doing things together. It will be good for both of them. And he needs to have time with Sarah to himself because he needs to know how to deal with it.

Then, I'll have Thursday and Friday to try and make up for the five days I didn't work. Just in case you didn't realize it, February is already a very short month, as months go, in regard to the kind of work I do. I have approximately 15 days in which to process what normally takes a full 30 day month. So, this will be a feat to rival the Augean Stables. Just so you know, I am not Hercules.

I've been messing around tonight trying to get my home network back online. I can do it one way but not the other. I mean, I can see and access files in my shared folder from the desktop but I can't do the same from the laptop. I think some settings still aren't right, despite the repair. As soon as I can sit down and make sure I'm backed up on the important stuff, I'm resetting everything to factory settings. I'd like to do it this week but if you read over the previous paragraphs you will realize that it is probably not going to happen. Then, I think I'll upgrade to Windows 7 while I still can.

On the 16th I was supposed to meet with a group of local NaNo writers who want to start meeting once a month. Then I realized I had this trip to Atlanta and so I've had to push that back to the last Saturday in February.

Compared to this past week, I suspect that the coming week will reach Mach speeds. Next flight is boarding now. Buckle up.

It Takes A Village

I love British mysteries. I cut my teeth on Agatha Christy and Dorthy L Sayers. For weeks now, I've been watching British mysteries on Netflix. I sit and crochet and watch for hours in the evening. I'm into about the seventh season of Midsomer Murders. It is just one of my favorites.

I don't know how the country of Britain is subdivided. I haven't been interested enough to look it up and assume it is similar to our divisions. In America we have states that have counties with towns and a county seat. Louisiana has parishes but it is six of one and half dozen of the other. Kentucky is a commonwealth but still has counties.

In Midsomer Murders the towns are usually different but they all appear to be in one sort of county, Midsomer, i.e. Midsomer Worthy I take to mean the town of Worthy in the county of Midsomer. If I'm wrong my loyal Brits readers will kindly correct me. But you get my drift.

While watching the show the other night I got to thinking. This Midsomer place is a veritable pit of sin and murder. I mean, every show is full of the most awful old bats and nosy neighbors, and vicious gossips. Every show has more than one murder. And the nicest people all seem to have these nasty vices or they seem totally naive about all of it.

So, I wondered... exactly what are those little English villages like? Seriously, they're small. All of the Midsomer villages are picturesque, cozy, and people seem so friendly on the surface and then, bam, someone is bashed over the head with a brick, or lamp, or candlestick. If they aren't bashed with something, they're blasted with a shotgun, of which there seems to be a awful lot of in Midsomer. Every one, including Granny has a shotgun. I know Britain has strict gun laws. I mean, even the DCI doesn't have a gun when he goes haring after the murderer. More than once I thought, "Stop, you fool! Get a gun before you go in there!" But no, he never does. And they never kill him! They don't even shoot him. Generally, they don't even hit him. He walks over and just snatches the gun away and that handsome chap that blindly follows him handcuffs the offender. All neat and tidy, despite the fact that this person just murdered half the town with an ax.

I always thought it would be nice to live in one of those villages. My friend, Jilly, moved to one last year. She seems very happy and so much more involved in the local events now. She's invited me to come for a visit and I've been really wanting to do that. But now I'm beginning to wonder. I've seen what goes on in these little hotbeds of vice.

I must ask her if Simon owns a shotgun.

Is Anyone Watching?

Today is a work holiday for me and I've spent all morning doing virtually nothing. I swept bathrooms, hallway and kitchen. I'll vacuum the rugs soon. I also cleaned toilets. But that's it.

No one noticed my efforts but Sarah, my 6 year old granddaughter. She's been with me for the weekend. She asked me why I was sweeping floors and cleaning the toilets. Sarah's a bit messy for a 6 year old so maybe she didn't understand the need... or health concerns.

I find it odd that she didn't notice the toilet was very dirty but she did notice last night that her dad left the sink dirty. I took a Clorox (c) wipe and quickly cleaned that up. She said, "You shouldn't be cleaning up after him." I just looked at her and thought carefully about my response. One side of my brain wanted to agree with her. Thankfully, the more intelligent side responded. "Well, he's paying rent and helps with other things. That's how people are supposed to do it. They work together." I know for a fact that this was a bone of contention before her parents' divorce in Sarah's home with her non-working Mom and working Dad. I've heard it more than once. Obviously, Sarah did, too.

Does anyone but me see the dirty toilet and sink? Did anyone but me notice the floors needed sweeping? Probably not since no one comes to my home but my family. My sons are blind to dirt. Really. Probably because they never saw it growing up. I was a stay at home mom for about 15 years. I noticed but the male contingent never saw a dirty house. Would I have noticed had it been someone else's home? Um... I'd have noticed that toilet, let me tell you, but it took me days before I noticed it last night. I think I would have noticed the sink, too. So, yes, I think, if a stranger had come to my home, they'd have noticed.

For me that's the problem. I'm overly sensitive to all this stuff. I see all the details of a messy house and it completely disrupts my ability to cope. I think everyone could see it. I know everyone would see it. So, it needs to be dealt with and disposed of quickly. Sometimes, though, I look past obvious things.

I didn't see what a six year old noticed. She didn't really see the dirt in the sink but she noticed a female household member cleaning up after a male household member. She immediately parroted a response with which I happen to disagree. It is a response based on twisted relationships. I have a problem with that kind of mentality. If there's a mess and you see it, you don't leave it for someone else, no matter who made the mess. Should people clean up their own mess? Yes. But in real life they often don't. I've had people clean up messes I made. If I see trash in the floor at my office, I simply bend down and pick it up. I didn't drop it. There are 12 other people there who could have but ignoring it won't make it go away. We work together. I am sure someone in that office has picked up my mess. In fact, I know it.

Is anyone watching? I think so. It is why I hate the house getting dirty. I'm tired a lot when I get home so cleaning lives up to the word "chore" for me. It is difficult for me to do more than 4 hours of housework. But I do it. Now there's two of us but actually, David is only mildly messy. His problem is in the follow up.

It is hard to live with someone else after years alone. I've talked to David about various things I'd like him to do, for himself and for me. He may or may not do them. I work to not get annoyed because the reality is, he hasn't got anywhere else to go. We discuss it and he tries a bit harder but he's not there yet. Surprising since he is pretty OCD and used to have the cleanest room in the house. What happened to him, I wonder? And then I listen to Sarah give orders to her father as if he were her servant rather than her parent. Where did she learn that behavior? What kind of relationship is it that demands all from one and none from the one demanding?

Sarah was playing with a couple dolls not too long ago and was heard to say, "My friends matter more and if you don't like it you can leave." Maybe when you become invisible, you don't notice the dirt.

I mean, is anyone really watching? Yes, they are.

A New Look

For the first time in a long time I like my blog's look! I've been messing with it ever since I left Multiply. I've had a blogger site long before I even went to Multiply and before that, Yahoo 360. I rarely did anything but use the theme that came with Blogger. This site was much harder back in 2005 to customize the background and overall appearance. I basically used this as a back up blog and spent all my time on Multiply. Over time, more and more, and just in time, it became easier. Now it is even easier than Multiply ever was to customize.

I actually changed it when Multiply first closed to look like my Multiply site. I think it made it easier for friends to adjust a bit. I changed the name shortly after that and have been trying to find something a bit more current.

In the past I have always used a full background but I've been looking for something that would reflect the name change. Do you know that photos of someone on a ledge are not common? And what I found was just not what I wanted to express. But this past week, during a Google I found exactly what I had in my mind. In fact, the creator could have been reading my thoughts. The photo is called Seeking Solace by James McKenzie and you will find a link on the right to his site at Deviant Art. When he gave me permission to use it I bout jumped for joy. And I don't get much of that lately. Please visit and check out his other work.

Thanks, James.

Onto the Pier

The pier stretched out, into a turquoise sea that stretched to the end of the world and disappeared into a matching sky. I squinted in the glare from the the reflection of the sun on the water and sighed. For a moment I closed my eyes, allowing myself to soak up the warmth of sun on my skin. I opened my eyes and walked onto the pier.

My  bare feet made no sound but the wood planks were rough from years of weathering and walking and it pricked at my feet. It crossed my mind that a splinter check would be required on my return. The radiant heat of the planks began to sting my soles but I kept walking, my sandals dangling from my left hand. I could put them on but I welcomed the heat. I'd been cold a long time.  © 2013 Cynthia Maddox

When it comes, I have to write it... and I've not been writing in a while. This is the whisper I've been hearing this week.I have no idea what it is; I just like it. 

Where is this place? Why is she there? Where is she going? Where did she come from? What is she doing there? What is at the end of the pier? Who is she? 

Might want start a blog of this stuff. Seems easier to keep up with. 

Purple Passions, Dark Days, & Frozen Time

The new year did not get off to an auspicious start. My mother died and I spent the second day of it on the road, the third day at a funeral, and the fourth day on the road. My weekend sucked. I went back to work on Monday to be greeted by two weeks backup. It has taken two weeks see any progress at all. We've had snow, cold, rain, warmth, rain, and more cold. Most days are gloomy, at least it seems so to me. Today is no exception.

I looked for some profoundly moving topic to write about or perhaps, hysterically amusing. I have neither. I have a rather boring life that doesn't require I do much but get up and cope with the most recent disasters, which usually entail my keeping a grip on my anger, frustration, annoyance, depression, or elation. I usually end up holding an empty bag. I suppose if you look closely I'm a bit manic at times.

I went back and read some old posts. Really old. Like 2006. I sounded so young. Life sounded much simpler in some way that I can't pin down. The foolish stuff I blogged about so trivial and foolish I wonder if anyone ever even read beyond the first paragraph and I almost hope they didn't.

Then, I read posts from 2009 and realized that my life can't ever be simple again. I can't jump back to the years before January 29, 2009 and instead choosing to live here, pick another city so things will turn out differently for all of us. That it will all have been a nightmare.

I absolutely despise the month of January. As my mother always said, "I hate it with a purple passion." January 11, last Friday, was my wedding anniversary. It was a painful day. And I know at the 29th grows closer every day will become heavier and darker. On that day, Jerry will have been gone four years. It seems as if it were only yesterday that I watched him die and had to bury him in the snow and ice. Some things are just frozen in time.

New What?

Is it really a new year? Or did someone just wash and rinse this the old one and hang it out to dry? Seriously. I didn't even bother with profound or pithy post for the shifting year. No one seemed to notice. I could point folks back to an old one, written when my mind was working and life was actually better.

The truth is that I haven't noticed a different in 2012 and 2013 at this point. Admittedly, it is still early days yet. Today is only the 12th.

I have lunch today with an old friend... well, she isn't old, probably a bit younger than me but still it will be nice to sit and chat about nothing for a hour and get reacquainted with and old friend.

Earlier this week I signed up for Forward Motion Two Year Novel writing course. No, I don't know if I'll complete it or if this will be another unfinished work. But it won't be anything if I don't do it. So, I signed up. We'll see.

On the 29th I'm meeting with a group of NaNoWriMos who are interested in forming writing groups. Maybe the FM thing would be a good platform to do this on. A monthly check in to see how we're progressing? Not everyone will want to do it but I think a few are going to so we'll see.

Monday night I have my meeting with the Writers' Asylum Online. Always fun and this meeting is supposed to be about 10 people... we think. I have homework to do this weekend in in prep. I've been a little distracted and have not had time to really research like I wanted.

Now I'm going to wash my hair and get dressed.

Fading Flames

Mama, Aunt Phillis, Alice (my mother), and Daddy.
Mama and Daddy were my aunt and mother's parents.

I keep coming back to these old photos and studying them careful. This was taken the year I was born and what you see in this photo is what I always saw. Oh, there were terrible times and things I'd like to forget. Like everyone else, they did stupid things. They cried and got angry and depressed but if there are any good memories of my life, this photo reflects them. They always seemed to be laughing.

This image also reflects any gatherings of my family. We usually end up laughing at something and often it involves a story from the lives of one of these people or something one of us has done. We are a family of natural humorist. We are funny without trying to be funny. And we laugh most at ourselves.

This morning it occurred to me that this photo also depicts the three women who most profoundly affected my life and directed its  course. These women determined my outlook, my character and my goals. They made me most of who I am today, good and bad. I can't imagine what my life would have become without them. They gave me the strength to survive trials and turmoil and grief and continue laughing, even through tears. They gave me a desire to become more. I love them, each in a slightly different way but far more than any of them could guess.

Mama would say, "My Cindy can do anything." My aunt always says, "You are so smart." My mother always said, "I'm proud of you." I had no idea who they were talking about. I wanted to be like all of them to one degree or another. I wanted to love the way Mama loved. I wanted to be the kind of Godly women Mama and my aunt were. I wanted to be as beautiful as my mother, to have that presence that made heads turn when you enter a room. She drew people like moths to a flame. I always thought if I could have inherited the best qualities of these three women I could shake the world. I do not think I've ever approached that goal.

I can't say my mother and I were close. Her parents raised me but I still loved her, with bitterness and then, with resignation. I loved her humor, her laughter, and her singing. She had a beautiful voice and I loved riding in the car with her and listening to her and Mama sing gospel songs. They'd let us kids sing with them but those two voices were about as close to a heavenly choir that I've ever gotten. I loved her ability to go out job hunting at 8 and come back with a job at 10.

Put her in a crowded room with boring people and where she was standing would be a party. When she was a waitress her customers were the happiest in the room. It was not unusual for her to carry home $200 in tips for an evening's work and that was in the 70's. People just flocked to her and she reveled in that. When I was a little girl and she came home from time to time, I loved the moments when I was the focus of that dazzling smile and I felt the warmth of that flame. I was special for a little while and when she left, I always missed her.

Thursday I will see her one last time. The flame of my mother's life is extinguished. She's left me again.

The End of 2012

This is my last post of an old and miserable year. There are no words that I can write that even begin to express how glad I am to see it end. It could not even end on a happy note. Thursday I will bury another part of my life.

I will hope for a bright and happy New Year for you all.

Deadly December

My mother died today. I wish I had something to say that was meaningful and profound. I don't. I hate December. Her parents raised me and I called her mother Mama. Mama had a stroke on December 24, 1973 and died January 2, 1974. Daddy, my mother's dad, died December 10, 1990. His sister died in December. My husband, Jerry, died January 29, 2009, ten days after our anniversary. Is it any wonder that I await the Big Three holidays with absolute dread? I'd love to find something joyful in the season but it is pretty much horrible.

I am actually not feeling much of anything but a kind of depression. I recognize this for what it is and I know I'll have to be careful for a while. I will be leaving on Wednesday to go home for the funeral. They're trying to do it on Thursday but lets face it, New Years Day is not the best time to arrange a funeral.

I'm ready to adjust my calendar to eliminate December. Maybe January, too.

Let's Ban Everything!

I do not know why it is so difficult for legislators, politicians or whatever, to see that banning something never works. A negative action never creates a positive outcome.

Banning alcohol did not stop people from obtaining it and it created a whole new segment of society: organized crime on a grand scale. Interestingly, the World Health Organization reports here, Alcohol, that "The harmful use of alcohol results in 2.5 million deaths each year." The drug that was once banned and is now sold legally across the nation kills more people than guns!

Drugs are a perfect example of a "no solution problem". You can ban them but banning drug use has not stopped usage and created a second segment of society: drug cartels. Those who want them, buy them illegally and use them. There is no way to register street drugs. There is no way to identify where they came from if people won't talk. There is no way to control usage because usage is in the control of the user. Drugs are rampant in this country. According to this LA Times post 37,792 died in 2010 from illegal drug use and that was only a first estimate. The number was expected to rise.

However, according to Datablog in 2011, there was  "12,664 murders in the US. Of those, 8,583 were caused by firearms." So... should we consider much more than firearms? I mean, knives, hammers, crowbars, automobiles, drugs, oh... and axes, of course. (See Responsible Parties).

According, to the Datablog  report gun violence is trending down! And for those who want all the stats on illegal drug use here is a report that probably cost millions to prepare from dozen of agencies. National Drug Control Strategy This is a comprehensive report prepared for the President for 2012.

Banning anything as a means of control is notoriously ineffective. In the case of guns, this is ludicrous  We have the technology in place to exert control over who owns a gun. Every gun sold can be tracked to the person bought it. Licensing can be monitored with a national database if they want to do so. Criminal records should already be in a national database where they can be cross referenced with gun purchases. More than one criminal has bought a gun through regular channels. Of course, then you have to start documenting those with violent tendencies and mental disorders. This should keep most law enforcement agencies pretty busy just keeping track of the legal guns. Of course, it still won't prevent the illegal ones from finding their way into the hands of the violent criminal or insane.

So, lets ban all drugs, every conceivable weapon, vehicles that travel over the national speed limit, and all alcohol. That will definitely insure that law abiding citizens won't be able to hurt anyone. As for the criminal element... they'll do exactly what they're doing now - purchasing illegal weapons and guns and drinking and driving.

Responsible Parties

I read this article after my friend +Chris D posted it on her Facebook page: Anger as French psychiatrist is found guilty after patient hacks man to death

This post is just my thoughts on this timely subject. The article relates that a psychiatrist got a one year suspended sentence for failing to recognize her patient could be dangerous. He escaped his therapy session in hospital and while free, he murdered his grandmother's boyfriend with an ax. Not they have prosecuted the doctor for failing to recognize the danger. I'm not sure she didn't recognize the danger but she is responsible for what happened?  I'm not convinced of that.

One of two things will happen once you start prosecuting people for "not recognizing the danger" a mentally disturbed person presents to others. First, a lot of people, mostly harmless people, will be brought before a panel of mental health professionals who will be terrified to get it wrong. That alone is scary.

Second, the truly dangerous won't be able to find medical help anywhere and their families will be held accountable and fined because doctors will be too afraid they will be sent to jail for a misdiagnosis or for not recognizing a danger. Mental health care is already in a sad state.

A third scenario could come about if wisdom prevails... apparently several other doctors actually recognized that the situation was so serious with this patient they "suggested" she give the patient to someone else. She refused. Note, doesn't it sound as if a "team" was involved in his treatment and that his behavior had escalated? Why wouldn't a team force this doctor to remand her patient to a more secure institution under someone else's care? When other doctors were aware that the situation was dangerous or the patient was not being helped why are they not also questioned or even charged? He was known to be dangerous by everyone!

For days I've read articles suggesting that Adam Lanza's mother did nothing to protect society. Immediately people began to lay blame on the mother. Why didn't she ask for help? Why didn't she do something? Why did she have guns? It must be her fault he killed all those people, right? A recent article suggested she had begun to take steps to have him committed and this may have been what sent him over the edge. But how do we know she hadn't tried to handle things in some way?

I can't begin to know what this woman was living with for years but based on what is now known, she's handled it alone for a long time, growing more and more frightened of what was happening to her child. The most recent months must have been a boiling cauldron of fear in her home. If reports are true, she had begun steps to have him committed. She had reached her limit. How sad it came too late and her head was blown off before she could get the help she needed.

As a parent, I don't think any of us want to believe we have insane children. But this isn't the first time children have harmed parents. It is the first time they managed to harm the parent and nearly two dozen others. She should have asked for help? Really? From whom? Does the public really know how difficult getting help for this sort of thing is? Obviously, not.

A few decades ago some political know-nothings dumped mental patients on the streets to fend for themselves. Funding, you know, and there was adequate help out there without having to institutionalize folks who could dress themselves and wipe their own bottom. Never mind that most of the time many of these institutionalized patients didn't know their own names or what planet they were on. They became the homeless, rooting around in garbage cans and sleeping where they could find a warm cardboard box.And the processes of getting help for new cases... unbelievably difficult.  The process of getting someone committed is nearly impossible. For good reasons and bad ones.

The Adam Lanza's of the world are capable of coherent, even highly intelligent activity. The majority of people who knew him appear to have never seen a violent action or more than a passing weirdness. Are they to blame for this tragedy because they failed to recognize that he was a danger? No. Is anyone capable of identifying psychopaths? No. And we don't really know what Adam Lanza was suffering from, at this point. There is no diagnosis.

I suspect there are many more of these children out there. There are many more of these mothers and fathers out there. What do you really think is going to happen when they try to get help?

The doctor in France made the wrong decision probably in the belief that she could help. She's responsible for not recognizing her limitations.

Adam Lanza's mother is probably guilty of being a mother who loved her son and simply could not believe he'd ever hurt anyone...until it was too late. Had Adam not killed his own mother, would we crucify her for his actions? I believe we would.

Blaming others is a coping mechanism for people who don't know what else to do. I do not think other people are responsible for an insane person's actions. I do think we should take steps to protect ourselves and others but I know that generally, it is a waste of time. Ask anyone who has been harassed by a disturbed person living next door how difficult it is to get help to stop it. Adam Lanza is a murderer. His mother is one of his victims and I suspect she was a victim for a long time before he killed her.

The problem here is not guns. The problem here is we can't know who will go on a rampage and murder our children. Instead of spending millions enforcing a ban on owning guns,why can't we spend millions finding way to prevent another massacre at the hands of people like Lanza? He isn't the first to do this. Find ways to actually help families of the mentally ill rather than closing doors in their faces, tying them up with years of red tape, and making them out to be the monsters.

Evil will always find a way. Please note that the mental patient in France used an axe to murder his victim. Evil will use any means necessary to kill, steal, and destroy society. Our job is to find ways to combat evil.