Jillian Michaels

Bleary-eyed in the Land of Fairies

It took me a long time to relax my vision into being able to see the pictures hidden in those 3D prints that were once popular. I haven’t seen one of those in years, but up in the white room, I try it with the knotty tree limbs stretching in the breeze. Other times, fairies appear and pose for a camera.

My eyes fight to stay awake as I type, a long month has preceded this long day. It started with Jillian Michael’s No More Trouble Zones on DVD and became no less physical all day. My current self is acting quite kindly to my future self, though. Dusting, organizing, semi-easy dinner choices for the rest of the week, oh my.

A fantastic group of students led by Matt Boyle put on 9 ten-minute plays – my “Dust Up on the Skyway” among them. The whole experience was enormously fun. I met them during table reads then attended both shows. I can’t thank my husband, Betty B., Jim and Julie, as well as Cat and Mike enough for coming out and supporting this endeavor, but thank you! And thank you to these amazing people who are younger than me in age, but not spirit.

Centifictionist, a great venue which appreciates and promotes its contributors, accepted a 50-word story I thought for sure would have at least gotten an honorable mention in a recent On the Premises mini contest, but didn’t. I really like “The Ride” and when it appears in the next issue, I hope you do, too.

Recently, we were graced with visits from a niece, a nephew, his wife, and a baby in two goes. First, we met an I-Don’t-Know-How-She-Does-It woman and her baby at Steelbound for lunch. The visit was short, but lovely. Also wonderful was meeting the couple from Montreal. They had a beautiful new blue Mustang and luckily it was eventually allowed over the border so we could dine and chat at J. P. Fitzgerald’s. Afterwards, Husband led them on a tour of the building, showing the changes he and the construction company he works for made to the structure.      

The summer slips and slides. I’ve brought easel and canvas into the white room. Craft and technique books have been studied or skimmed. At Michael’s I bought brushes. With the house fairly clean, with my one precious life, I might paint or write a new play. If only new doggy wasn’t so needy.

Ah well, it’s getting better (I think) but puppies are a lot of work…and speaking of which, there goes the bell, signaling the need for door opening, so I’m off to escort her out, look at the stars, enjoy the full moon, and think about what I want to capture and how.

Thank you for stopping by and for the read! Cheers!   

Crazy about time, springtime in particular

On the recent nights of tolerable temps, winter damage is assessed while admiring the early flowers. The winds have been fancy terrible, and we’re thanking the ghost of Whitney that the damage was minimal. A huge chunk fell near the kitchen door, a pine cracked while the vehicle it would have hit wasn’t there. Once the worst was over, the blue ladder on the stack under the windows flipped over which is a puzzlement since there was no reason for it to and the ones beneath are not askew. Since it was his ladder, we attribute those nice saves to him and offer a clamor of applause. Thank you Whitney

Many congrats and thanks to Andrew Stancek. He’s written a lovely book which I intend to post about on Goodreads when I finish it. (Reviews are hard to write because they bring up anxiety not only from school but from the psycho hippo ballerina episode of Gilmore Girls.)

I’m still on pace with my submission total goals. Sending packets of five poems to four places that take over a year for the average response according to Duotrope does a lot of the heavy lifting for keeping 25 things out at all times. And soon, I’m freaking going see my story in print! Many thanks to Jim Tuttle for recording my micro that will be included in the roll out to The Jarnal. Some of you may even get a copy though I am behind on birthday cards and the newborn I bought a book for will probably be walking soon.

What I have been working on is the first few pages of new thing in order to enter competitions calling for the first 5000 words. I entered the two that close on the 31st of March and the 1st of April respectively. I believe the next one closes on the 6th  of April which gives me plenty of time to polish the called for first 40 to 50 pages. The pages are written, but they do not shine like the first 20. The last call I’m interested in answering asks for the first 1250 words and those are honed so well, I’m happy to call them mine. I even have a synopsis done proving once again that every book I write is written a different way.

I’m sad to report that the whole mind/body/work output seems to be tied together. This morning I let Jillian Michaels torture me, then I did some ab work. Even as I was in the shower reminding myself that I could take today off and pull away from the story for a while, I came up with clever scenes.

Still, I’ll persist in this quest for rest. I’ve intentionally structured things to ease my stress and today’s dinner is warm-ups that will take 5 minutes. The laundry is done, so are the dishes. The floors are tolerable – new cat sheds more than I’m used to – so I have had to adjust to seeing some fur, otherwise I’d go mad hunting down and vacuuming up every tuft. Perhaps I’ll read, or stare at the wall, but it will start soon, and include this:

This tiny window of ease won’t last of course, and that’s okay because neither do the spring flowers, so I might as well enjoy them before the winter slinks back to cover them.  

 Thank you for stopping by and for the read. It is appreciated.

Quirky Times, but at least the Wall is Painted

Hi! The wall got prepped and primed and painted. It is wonderful. The color changes from gray to blue to purple. I love it!

These pics do nothing to show you, but here you go. Thank you Donkey! (The painter.)

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I’m in a happy/sad sort of place. I’m going to Chautauqua on Sunday for a writer’s conference. Husband is going to start working ten hour days soon. I’ll be in charge of mowing the lawn while he’s working. I think I’ll be sad a lot when that starts. I’ve started working out to a Jillian Michael’s DVD and wondering why, considering the state of the Earth. For f-’s sake. Who gives a crap about Benghazi, or the IRS or Jolie’s breasts when collectively we should be demanding better treatment of the planet.

I don’t know how to do it. Husband and I own one vehicle. We recycle. Plant flowers for bees and butterflies. We volunteer. I know, it’s not enough and it makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth every time I think about it. What do we do to get better, be better, help another person out a little bit more than we are trying? I just don’t know.

It’s probably just a personality trait—I have this wonderful wall now. I must not deserve it so I make myself feel bad about everything else…but the weather throughout the world scares me.

Last week, the radio was off for gobs of time. Now it’s back on and I hate not having power to save the fish that are floating in Lake Erie or the flocking West Nile virus infected birds. F*ck.

So, I suppose I’ll do what I can. Give a thumb up to work I like for r.kv.r.y., plant more flowering vines for bees, breath. Go on with a bit of courage. Hope people I know I love them for being them.

 

(*These are just some of my sad creekside reflections. Your outlook on life may vary.)