Veddy Pinteresting

People are blogging. And Twittering. And Pinteresting. Me? I'm baking. A new incarnation. I've got cookie recipes that will knock your socks off. In a good way.

But, while I bake, I ponder social networks. I spend a lot of time on the internet. Far more than I should and doing far less than needs doing. Dusting, for example. I've never been one who keeps up with the dusting. Nowadays, forget it. There is always something far more interesting happening online than brushing dust off the furniture. At least this is what I tell myself, even though I'm pretty sure I could catch up on everything pertinent to my life in about 20 minutes or less - email, Facebook, done. I don't really need to check all my favorite food blogs every single day OR wander around Pinterest oogling things that total strangers find interesting. Do I?

Years ago, a co-worker gave me this book about the Amish. The message, as I recall, was how to praise God in the simplest of ways. A well-made bread, for example, was akin to a prayer of the highest order. And, really, isn't that how it should be? The book followed one woman who journeyed into Amish country and discovered  that the Amish know "there is nothing 'out there', just the 'timeless present.'"

It makes me laugh to imagine what the Amish would think of Pinterest. And then I laugh because it's all so self-indulgent.

I think I'm in danger of losing something of real value: Myself.

Self-awareness. That's the key. Maybe there's hope for me yet, yanno, if I can avoid Pinterest. Instead of looking at cookies, I could bake some. Well-made, of course. They are, after all, a prayer of the highest order.

Hey God? You listening?

Random

Life is spinning out of control lately. I hate when it does that.

It's been my experience that March usually comes in like a lamb and exits with a roar. I'm not looking forward to that.

I've a 70,000 word story that won't come together, no matter how hard I try to beat it into submission. And why in god's name did I think I could write a sci-fi love story to begin with? Really. A science fiction love story. Yeah. Maybe if I set it in rural New England I'll have better luck?

Anyway. That's what's on my mind.

Is it too late to move?

Met some nice folks today. They are all writers from my neck of the woods. All of them have signed up to do NaNoWriMo - every blessed one of 'em has taken the pledge to write like crazy for the month of November.

Except...now they know who I am. And I'm pretty sure they expect me to write like crazy for the month of November, too.

Ruh roh.

Beware: random words

I joined NaNoWriMo a couple of days ago.

Writing frenzy may ensue.

Ye be warned.

Got Mensa?

There are days and then, there are days like this. I'd like to say I was informed - that at some point during my upbringing, someone shared that days like this are out there and sometimes, without warning, they swoop in and play a series of games that would mess with the minds of many a Mensa member.

But, alas, seems I missed school that day.

Okay, I admit it. I am very naive at times. Things slip by me unnoticed on a fairly regular basis. Sometimes I catch them in the periphery of my vision, and by the time I blink - whoosh - they are gone. And yes, on occasion, I stare at them, bold as brass and then go on my merry way, feigning ignorance. Oftentimes, keeping my head in the sand is pretty much the only way I get through the day.

But, today. Yeah, today. Today, a giant wallop of reality has come home to roost and man, it's big girl stuff. I'll figure it out. I always do, and when I do, life will be good, or at least, more informed than it is now.

Yes, ma'am, information is a powerful thing.

But...just one question: is it a good thing or a bad thing that, at twelve, my daughter already knows about days like this?

*sigh*

Illumination Day

A lifetime ago, my guy and I spent the evening of July 4th in a hotel room on the outskirts of Boston. We weren't there for any kind of fourth of July celebration -  we were about to embark on yet another chapter on the road to parenthood. We didn't know yet that we'd be parents 'for real' by the following summer, we only knew we had a few more hoops to jump through, a few more wishes to make, a few more hopes to pray.

The following day was a blur. There was some surgery. We drove to my parents house afterwards - a nightmarish trip that felt like we were traveling at the speed of light - a side effect of medication. I slept. To this day, I've no idea what my guy did.

And life went on. A baby, then another, a move here, a loss there.

The blackberry brambles are tenacious this summer. Seeded from bird droppings they have invaded my perennial beds. I dig them up on Saturday, and by Tuesday, they are back, their young limbs blue-green, a color that reminds me of velvet. In one corner, under the deck, in a place I cannot reach, there is a branch bearing fruit. Instead of frustration, I find myself admiring this thorny interloper - it has some inner resolve, some inestimable fortitude to keep on growing, and in so doing, bears the sweetest of fruits.

On July 5, 1994, I took a step toward parenthood. My thorny interloper was born the following summer. Sweet fruit? Oh, you betcha.

They toil not, neither do they spin...

The yellow loosestrife by my back door.

Sweet William.

It self-seeds every year and I never know where it will turn up or what color it will be.