Trixie Archer's Blog, page 9

Last but Not Least

Hello and welcome to this week’s blog.  It  has been a very productive week.  I’ve been writing and writing and writing.  (My son is out of town so the house has been still, the perfect isolation so as to concentrate without interruption.)  With that said, I reached the final chapter of the main plot…the final chapter! 

All along I felt as if I were running a marathon.  As the starting pistol fired, I began in a solid sprint of words.  There were many other writers at the starting gate with me and they seemed in much better condition.  You know how in sports one tends to eye their competition…well it turns out they were in better shape for at mile ten they zoomed past.  I became the turtle, I began to walk...all out of sorts and gasping for air.  Step after step, edit after edit…I continued on…s l o w l y.

When I reached mile thirty, I was the only one left.  I was so exhausted that I was weak in the knees and shuffling down the street in a half stride.  As I reached the finish line, the only people left were those cleaning up the empty water bottles that were tossed to the side.  My point is, I did stay the course and I finished!  Last, but I finished…

What’s next?  Well, I’ll need to let the main plot rest for a few days as I work on a few sub-plot chapters.  Since this storyline has to do with the past, I’ll need to check if my imagination is in alignment with actual details.  I found a problem this week regarding the manner that oxen were driven across the prairie that will require a bit of effort to fix.  The devil of course is in the details.  It’s all part of the process though, all part of doing my absolute best to spin an interesting tale.

I know many have expressed a want to see more of Dora and Carmen; however, I refuse to enter into such a thing in a half baked way.  Although I have begun a sequel story or rather a prequel, until I feel the story line does them justice, I will continue simmering the plot on low.

Regarding this current project, I thought I found the perfect title but when I mentioned this idea to my daughter, her response was a grunt or rather a cross between a grunt and a whine.  That’s okay, titling a book takes a good bit of thought and effort.  “Falling Whispers” didn’t occur to me until the week before I intended to publish for I seem to do my best work when I am facing a tight deadline.  We’ll see though.

Yesterday, after my final chapter was written, I pulled out my sketch pad and began to draw a layout for the cover.  I snapped a picture of the artwork using my hands and the camera in shadow to give an impression of landscape.  I then took the digital image and have been playing with it in Photoshop.  It’s very exciting to bring something to life that had been floating around in my mind.   

Anyway, there is so much to do to make this next book happen.  My editor returns from vacation next week and it is my hope to have a finished product waiting for her. 

This untitled story is a bit different from “Falling Whispers,” for the whole point of self-publishing is to have the freedom to try new roads…and to relish the sites as they present themselves. 

I’m really excited and can’t wait to have this new work out there.  As far as a release date, that all depends on my editor and how quickly she can sort through the rather large manuscript.  Keep checking back for further updates.

Until next week….

~Trixie Archer

June Bug

It’s foggy here this morning…in my brain.  I’ve been up since three, typing away, writing, plotting, mopping and dusting the current story that I’m working on.  The book is rough but I’m very close to having a completed first draft.  I see it as a sketch at this point…and with every sitting the picture gains in detail.  There’s a small piece of sandpaper that I’m using to sharpen the tips of my pencils.  I’ll use the pencil dust to add shade and an eraser to show highlights.  If you add in the sharpened pencil to draw the finest of lines between here and there, the image will evolve.  Right now the story is rather gray though.  I’ll need to put some thought into the tone, the flow and the word variety.  I have a vision and it is my hope that what I see in my mind’s eye will match what I convey on paper.  Fingers crossed...

To be quite honest I’m feeling pressure.  “Falling Whispers” seemed to be appreciated and was an over-all a positive first book experience.  (With solid reviews and plenty of email asking for more.)  The question I have is simple; do I have it in me to work such magic again?  I mean think about it…either a story captures spark and chemistry or it doesn’t…either we feel invested in the characters to read from beginning to end or we don’t.  It takes the proper mindset and perhaps a bit of charm to write about love.  Carmen and Dora had chemistry…I knew that by chapter 3 when I was penning it.  Can I manage that appeal in this next story?  Yes, as you can imagine the pressure is on…

Every once in a while I’ll check the search engines for sites offering my book without permission as a free download.  Unfortunately such disrespect for copyrights and the laws are common.  Despicable bandits have stolen something that I’ve worked rather hard for…and it’s disheartening.  I do take the time to write them demanding they remove my book from their site.  I’ll send an email or use the comment section stating how they do NOT have my permission and what they are doing needs to stop…or else.  Even if they continue to do as much, Karma (or an army of lawyers) will kick them where it hurts…if not now, eventually.  There is always a cost for stealing.

On a more positive note, while checking for pirated downloads this past week, I happened to notice a bit of sunshine along the horizon.  The online magazine “She Knows” listed “Falling Whispers” among 12 other books as great lesbian literature.  It was quite an honor and a privilege…yes, most definitely sunshine along the horizon.

I just wanted to take a moment to thank those who have read my book and who are following my blog.  I so appreciate your support…any and all encouragement to continue writing is most appreciated.  I truly enjoy telling stories and will continue as long as I possibly can. 

See you next week…

~Trixie    

p.s.  "Falling Whispers, Love & Curses" is currently on sale for .99 through Amazon through  6/24/15  

A Walk On the Wild Side

Hi there!  For a change of pace this week, I took a walk on the wild side.  My daughter, her friend, my son and I celebrated the end of the school year with a two day excursion.  We visited a few parks and embraced the natural world around us.  With camera in hand, I captured many images as nature presented itself.  No scissors or glue necessary as I clipped together a collage to share with everyone here.

Next week it’s back to finishing the current project I’m working on.  The house will be still once again for my son is beginning soccer conditioning.  It’s just a matter of “plug my nose,” close my eyes and jump!  I hope the words that I land into will be enough to carry me onto the next adventure…I hope.

Well that’s all for this week.  If a picture’s worth a thousand words, hopefully this week’s blog will suffice.  Remember to keep hydrated, stay cool and wear sunscreen.  Until next time….

~Trixie

Monkeyshine

Hello and welcome to my blog.  It’s June, can you believe it?  It seems like yesterday that snow was falling and there was much shoveling to do.  I’m so glad such nastiness is behind us here in the Midwest, at least for now.  (I hope.)

June is a great month, the beginning of warm weather…short sleeves, running through the sprinklers, visits to the lake, sunshine…with rainbows and cotton falling from the trees.  The fragrance in the air smells like summer.  Can you feel the surge of heat?  Yea!

The thing is, along with the warmer temperatures arises the need to treat ol’ Monkeyshine with her heart worm preventative.  I realize the vet recommends she stay on the medication even during the non-mosquito season, but I wonder sometimes if a dog isn’t a bit healthier with a break from the treatment.  That’s just me though; everyone must do what they feel is best. 

Recently my son and I worked to convince the dog to take her quarter sized chewable.  I cut a nice wedge of cheese and set the pill dead center.  I gave the dog a command as I typically do for a treat and tossed the pill through the air to her.  Chomp, chomp, chomp….and then “it” happened; she ate the cheese but spat out the pill. 

“Oh boy, here we go again!”  I said to my son recalling the last time.

I then instructed my son (JD) to try a piece of bread.  He made a symmetrical dough ball hiding the medicine at the center.  Monkeyshine then proceeded to appear all cute as she bowed before him awaiting her treat.  Chomp, chomp, chomp, bread gone…pill rejected to the tile of my kitchen floor.

  JD sniffed the medicine and said, “yuck…this stuff smells rank…I wouldn’t want to eat this either.”  He crinkled his nose and offered his best look of disgust both to me and to the dog.

“Pepperoni,” I said recalling the time soon after we adopted Monkeyshine that she found a piece of pepperoni pizza in the street and no matter how firmly I said “leave it,” she ate it anyway.   “Let’s mask the smell of that medicine with a piece of pepperoni.” 

My son proceeded to coat the pill with the juice from a round of pepperoni before offering it to the dog.  She gave him a look and I could tell exactly what she was thinking as she gazed from the meat coated pill to my son and then back again.  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Needless to say, Monkeyshine wanted no part of the pill flavored like pizza.

We chased her from here to there and back again.  I opened her lips but she locked her jaw.  I begged, I pleaded…I offered to give her a carrot if only she’d cooperate.  She wanted no part of her medicine…stubborn dog.

As a last resort, I opened the crock pot to where pulled pork was simmering for tacos.  I had my son pulverize the medicine as we added it to a bit of the meat.  Sure enough, the dog chomped away…so much that she even licked the bowl clean. 

“Ha-ha!”  I said to my son.  “Dog zero, human’s one point!”  We both cheered at our win.
 

The thing is….after much consideration, well…the truth is, Monkeyshine had premium cheese, home-made bread and part of our pork roast simmering for taco meat that had been cooking all afternoon.  I think in all honesty the dog was the victor in the game of “please take your medicine.”  The longer she held out, the more human food she was offered.  Smart dog!

If you think that round and round was entertaining, you should have seen what I went through when my kids were little so as to encourage them to take their medicine!  If only it was as simple as singing “just a spoonful of sugar.”  If only.

Anyway, that’s all for this week…there’s much writing to do and I should probably get to work.

See you next time.

~Trixie  

Turtle Slow

Well hello there~ 

It’s been a frantic cluster of days.  I’ve been sequestered in a literary box with wagon wheels carrying me forward “turtle slow” across the country.  There’ve been many bumps along the way, one of which is finding the time and energy to keep the momentum.  Real life happens and with Memorial Day being this past Monday, I’ve lost a day of writing.

The story is going well.  I set my focus on hyper drive and accomplished two chapters.  I see the end in site and will hopefully be tying everything up within the next week or two.  I had hoped to submit a finished-edited work by the last day of school on Amazon so that I’d be free to dedicate more attention to my 15 year old underfoot, but sometimes even the best of plans need to be altered.  I’ll be lucky to turn in a rough draft for editing at that point.  Let’s see if I can maintain the wind in my sails so that my editor can soon work her magic, red pen and all. 

I’m aiming for a quality story…with depth and richness to the characters and a colorful landscape to frame the experience.  I’m weatherworn just from considering the many angles of perspective.  I’m ready to arrive at my final destination both in the storyline and in the process of writing. 

I sometimes ask myself a simple question as I pen a story, “Will the world be a better place for the telling of this tale?”  If my answer is “yes” then I suppose it’s worth sharing. 

My goal is to entertain, to pull my audience in and give them something to look forward to with every virtual turn of the page…to escape the everyday and travel miles afar…from beginning to end. 

I appreciate having the say regarding fate even if just on paper.  None of us are blessed with this ability in real life.  As you know, there are many unexpected twists and dips from moment to moment. 

The thing that I appreciate the most about writing is that I have a say on how the story ends.  I have a sense of control over other people (although they only exist in my mind).  I really wish that we could have the means for a re-write or a do-over…to voice the perfect response at the exact moment we need to, to stand up and challenge while maintaining our dignity. 

I’ve had readers contact me looking for a sequel to my first book.  (I’m flattered.)  However, there are times when I’ve read book two and wondered why it is was the author did such a good job at telling a story in the first only to remove the positive elements in the next?  I know that most who have read “Falling Whispers” would enjoy reading more, but until I can put forth something that honors Dora and Carmen properly, for now I’ll push the cart in another direction.   I’d rather not change the “happily ever after” even if it means I’m sacrificing the potential for monetary gain.

Real life is messy…it’s painful, it’s scary, heartbreaking and yes, with bits and boulders of wonderful mixed in.  It sometimes reminds me of driving down the street without any brakes…in the wintertime, on ice…with a blindfold on, over a lake…with someone in the passenger seat telling jokes so as to make it not seem so dangerous.  Is it even possible to make it to the other side all in one piece?  The wondering is what keeps me set on trying.

With all of that said, I have a book to finish.  I hope you’ll all forgive me for a condensed blog this week.  Time is ticking and I must do my best to produce a new story that you will enjoy and that I feel proud enough to share.  Now to find a title, design a book jacket and market the finished product.  Catch you next time…I’m the author who is wearing many hats.

Have a great week!

~Trixie  

Distraction

Excuses, excuses…the many roadblocks that stand in the way…  What I’m about to admit may be shocking, but I’ve been known to procrastinate until the very last minute.  Notice how this blog is posted twenty minutes late today?  Somehow the belief that “tomorrow, that’s the perfect time to begin…” has maintained throughout my life.  There are alligators in a moat with snapping teeth preventing me from approaching the front door.  This happened to be one of those alligator weeks, here’s why: 

1.)    Yard work.  Okay, the weather briefly shifted towards nice…80 something degrees, and the grass shot up within 4 days after mowing the last time.  Instead of walking on the treadmill, I pushed the mower around the property.  My eye for detail took over and every blade had to be in uniform with the next.  Translation: trimming the edges with the hedge clippers then hand pulling clusters of stubborn that refused to cooperate.  After, I was physically wiped out.  This was an accurate telling on just how out of shape I had become during the winter months. 

2.)    My dad’s ghost.  All right so you’re probably thinking that I’ve gone on a drinking binge or maybe I breathed in some hallucinogenic mushrooms as I was mowing the lawn, well maybe…but a few times as I was rounding the bend, I could swear that I caught a glimpse of my deceased father.  I know it seems impossible and maybe it’d be a good time to have my vision checked…that or perhaps I should no longer work in direct sunlight without the proper hydration, who knows?  With thoughts of my dad swirling about, writing this week’s blog was postponed.

3.)    A band concert.  My son plays the alto saxophone with the high school band.  Last evening we attended their annual spring concert which proved to be quite an occasion!  Those kids have tremendous talent…with great rhythm, perfect timing and plenty of heart.  After there was simply no time to pen anything…we were all riding a high from the tempo with an over-all “life is good” feeling.

4.)    A visit from my daughter.  My daughter drove in yesterday to attend the concert with us.  She arrived earlier in the day and we shopped…and shopped, and shopped.  By evening, there was no padding left in my shoes or cash in my wallet.  Who can possibly write a blog under such circumstances?   

5.)    My daughter returned back to her apartment near school.  Before she left, we had the car washed, shopped, went to lunch, stopped for coffee and then, bid farewell.  (As you can imagine, I was too worn out to write anything…nap time.  Can you hear the Z’s?)

6.)    …and then a new smart phone arrived in the mail.  Our cell phone carrier finally put their foot down explaining that my “old Betsy phone” was so obsolete that it was no longer usable on our network.  A mini-sim card and phone were delivered and as I opened the box, a time warp got the better of me!  How do I set this thing up?  What does this app do?  How do I turn the phone off?  Where is the program for simmering the stew?  Why is my calendar no longer working with this phone?  What ever happened to a simple keypad that all one must do is punch in some numbers?  I’m now stranded in “slide this-tap that, type, type, type except my fingers are too large for the glass screen.  Tip-type-trip-and blunder.  If there was a secret master control I’d end up teleporting to Mars or something by mistake…seriously…and then my phone rang and I couldn’t figure out how to answer.  Was that you? Hello?  I hope you’ll call back, I truly am sorry. 

7.)    House-sitting for a family member.  This involves driving to the countryside, collecting mail/newspaper, emptying de-humidifiers, walking the property to be certain all is as it should be, checking the house itself…then driving home once again.  I really don’t mind for it offers me a chance to collect my thoughts but I’m minus one hour out of my schedule each day until they return.  Is it possible to be two places at once? 

8.)    Balancing my checkbook.  Sometimes a person must be responsible.  Admittedly, we’ve been on a spending spree as of recent.  Home improvements, groceries and car maintenance, shopping with my daughter…tallying “after the fact” is my least favorite thing to do.  It’s a jury of numbers that concludes, “you spend too much and you need to stay at home more…save, save, save!”  If only I could avoid this sort of reckoning.  The bills would pile up...if only there was no such thing as balance.

9.)    The Oregon Trail.  I found myself stranded in chapter 34…with just a few more to go, just a few more!  I know it’s time to finally arrive in California…it’s time.  One word of caution though, if you read my next story; irony.  That was I had in mind when devising the plot of this particular story, or was it iron me?    

10.)    Finally….my biggest blunder of the week, getting hooked on a television series on Netflix.  When something strikes me as interesting, forget it!  That’s exactly what happened as I began viewing “Chasing Life” on Sunday.  The storyline that surrounded the main character facing cancer really struck a nerve.  I couldn’t afford the distraction and yet I couldn’t stop watching.  I needed to pull the plug…and yet…  You know me, I’m all about the complexities of relationships and the struggles we face everyday which was the premise of that series.

The truth is; time is running out for me to complete my manuscript.  My son will soon be underfoot for the summer and I need to have the rest of my book finished before this happens.  The biggest challenge will be in keeping the boy fed.  He’s approaching six ft tall and he’s been eating us out of house and home…oh yeah, groceries.  If only I could hire a personal shopper to keep the refrigerator stocked.  Oops that’s not in the cards so I’ve worn out a path between here and there.

That is my entire week of putting this blog off until tomorrow.  Alligators,  responsibility, chores, imagination, family, music, television, exhaustion, an inability to say no, shopping…and then of course my dog Monkeyshine ate my blog-homework, honest, she did!  Is that my phone ringing?  Until next time, have a great week!     

  

1/2 lb. & 4 Slices of Patience

Okay, I’ll admit it…I’ve become a bit of a recluse while penning the current story.  Today however, I ventured to the grocery store in search of something quick and easy for dinner.  The size of the market isn’t what I grew up with.  Instead of a meat counter, dry goods, dairy, produce, ect., this place is huge.  They carry many electronics, there’s even a pharmacy, apparel, shoes, hardware, software and even Tupperware.  The truth is I avoid such places at all cost.  Why you might ask…well…

For one thing there’s an overwhelming feeling of chaos.  Three steps in and I was assaulted by noise from the speakers above.  The music was stranded between two channels and it resembled an eerie ghost-like rendition of Billy Idol versus Karin Carpenter.  My first thought was, how bad do I need groceries today? 

As I furthered myself into the building, I noticed a child somewhere in the distance wailing.   I felt sad for the kid and sympathy for the parent.  I remembered not so long ago…when my son would all of a sudden decide that he had reached his limit and then “wham!”  There were no words soothing enough, no toy distracting enough, “please…please…please…” I’d beg.  Soon everyone would stare with disapproval in my direction.  I could only guess what they were thinking, “Can you please calm that poor child?” 

It’s funny though…today I was the one looking…I peered around the corner to make certain the toddler was okay.  In this crazy world one just doesn’t know.   Thank goodness it was simply a matter of “child wants something expensive and dad said no.”  Okay, I understand…but ten minutes later after being kept hostage by this kids tremendous lung capacity I was counting the money in my wallet to buy him off in exchange for a bit of peace and quiet. 

I had a list with me.  I jotted it down over the weekend.  I didn’t use it though…between Billy Idol, Karin Carpenter, Tantrum Tony and the sudden manner that the perimeter widened like a rubber band, I just wanted out and fast.  From memory I began pulling items and tossing things into my cart at an accelerated pace.  One fish, two fish, feet in the morning, feet at night…crying boy, eyes without a face, on top of the world…help me please.

At the deli I was number 62…number 62?  The sign above read 47.   No way.  A bit of ham and a few slices of low sodium turkey all for what?  Twenty minutes of my time and $7.52?  There was a woman, number 61…  You know how you think to yourself, “oh good I’m next” well, not so fast. 

“I’d like three pounds of sliced Colby cheese…would you slice that fresh?  It is on sale right?”  She asked.

That was all okay with me for the other deli worker had just finished with number 60…so I was next…um no.

 

“I’ll be right back,” Deli Kat said as she hurried away.  The doors swung in her wake.  I couldn’t help but wonder what was on the other side of them?  A secret club to where the workers grab a drink or two or perhaps readjust the overhead music to find something even more annoying and abrasive…or maybe they take wagers on which customer they can break next.  I was probably a safe bet… “I’ll put ten dollars on that lady there!”

All of a sudden, Tantrum Tony rounded the corner.  “Daddy, daddy…please…car…please?”  His dad shook his head no.  Wah-wah-wah!  Stomp, stomp, stomp.  “Please?”  Again no…it was so disruptive that I couldn’t watch…I tried to think of something else.  Unfortunately, nothing came to mind…not even the current plot that I’m working on.

And then someone readjusted the garbled din overhead.  It didn’t exactly resemble music any longer though…it was more like mu-zak…elevator style.  Ding, ding, dang, ding, ding, dang.  I should know that tune, shouldn’t I?  Ding, ding, dang, ding, ding dang.  No, my mistake…was it “A Flock of Seagulls?” …and I ran, I ran so far away…if only the words were there instead of cheery ding, ding, dang’s.

 

Number 61 apologized to me by her third order request.  “Did that look like turkey to you?” She asked me.  I shook my head no and smiled.

Finally, Deli Kat returned.  “Let me see, number 63?” 

Just as I was about to say “no you forgot number 62…um me”…number 63 stepped in and rattled off her order. 

It all seemed like a twisted dream that I couldn’t wake up from.  “Weren’t you next?” 61 asked me.

I nodded in reply.

In her defense, when 61 was finished she made certain that I was given a turn.  I guess us numbers in the deli line must stick together…with the exception of 63, she was just rude.

When I finally arrived back at home, my son asked me if I picked him up anything good…translation:  tasty-unhealthy junk food.  I simply smiled at him remembering Tantrum Tony whose father made the mistake of telling his son “no.” 

“Hold out your hand,” I said.

My son complied.

I placed a wedge of paper into his grip.  He peered down wondering what the significance of a deli tag reading “62” meant. 

“I just gave you the gift of patience.  Now let’s go and make some dinner shall we?”

…and we did.

  

So Long Hour

Hello~ 

The story I’m drawing is beginning to shape up…the rough sketch of words are gaining in composition, form and detail.  I’ve written 148 pages thus far and still have a few lines and twists up my sleeve.  There are many ideas floating around so shifting gears sometimes proves to be a challenge.  I’d love the privilege of penning from start to end without any interruption.  Okay, maybe not for I reached a point this week to where I was stuck on the same paragraph for a few hours.  The words landed in a simmering vat of confusion.  I ended up carrying the whole thing to the side yard and pouring the mess onto the grass.  Letters spewed everywhere as I waved “bye, bye, off with you now!”

I celebrated my birthday at the beginning of the week and had a most enjoyable time.   There was delicious food, great conversation and fruit salad.  I made a promise to my doctor that I’d change my lifestyle for good and I’m solid on that promise, so no cake for me.  I’m not calling this change a “diet” since the “d” word conjures depravation.  Celery sticks, calorie counting, jumping onto the scale excessively…I won’t do that because after…the poor habits always return.  So, call it what you will but my blood pressure that had slowly increased over the past year to an unhealthy reading is now back in check!  I make a lot of things home-made now…low sodium, low fat…high fiber with plenty of veggies.  I take my time, reading all labels to make an informed choice.  My absolute favorite protein is fresh cod.  I bend some foil into a nice little enclosure, add some lemon juice, herbs and bake!  It’s my new feel-good food. 

I attended a meeting this week at the high school for my son.  The teacher’s had planned on 150 parents and students showing up and I suspect there was double or possibly triple that number.  We were crammed into a space with standing room only…shoulder to shoulder, rows stacked on rows.  There was a teacher with a nasal voice that kept bellowing, “everyone please move in further…everyone please…”  How can they expect to fit a crowd inside that is larger than the room?  It reminded me of a photograph I saw once from the 1970’s where they tried to fit as many people as they could into a Volkswagen Beetle.  I thought of that image as I stood there too close for comfort.  Unfortunately, all of the exits were blocked with a barricade of people and there were more waiting in the hallways. 

Needless to say, the air became stuffy and fast.  I wanted to run out the door and escape to the parking lot to breathe the evening air…to feel the open space…but I couldn’t, I was stuck…I was sardine number 89.

Under normal circumstances, I’m not one to complain but being middle aged and having hot flashes…well, standing in a tightly packed crowd was the last thing I wanted to do.  The truth is; I had no choice for I was there on behalf of my son. 

I kept peeking at my watch thinking, “just ten more minutes…can I hold on just ten more minutes?”  The answer of course was “yes.”

I tried to think of worse things that I’ve faced in my life so as to find some comfort.  The moments before having all of my wisdom teeth pulled came to mind.  Saying goodbye to my dad that final time in the nursing home, the waiting room when my mom had open heart surgery, the time my son cut open his finger and needed stitches, the many occasions my car has left me stranded throughout my life…having the stomach flu, the doctor’s appointment to go over test results that seemed like bad news…the five minutes before a job interview.

Yes, there are many things worse than being packed in a sardine can for an hour…but what about the better times?  My kid’s and their many quirky antics, watching the boats on Lake Michigan, taking a walk along the countryside and capturing nature photographs, lunch with my friends, visiting my mom and hearing stories from yesteryear…shopping with my daughter, watching my son play soccer with his team, the anticipation of dinner after someone special has gone to a lot of trouble making it…watching seeds grow into plants…riding in a convertible with great tunes blaring…the simple pleasure of laughing…

I suppose I could go on and on since there is plenty more that deserves mention…but…

Thinking about the context of a painful hour reminds me of when I was a girl.  My mom, bless her heart, took the time to roll curlers into my hair.  I used to think it was the longest hour of my life…she had this fine toothed comb and worked section after section, pulling, gathering and clipping it all into place.  I couldn’t wait for her to announce that she was done for it was then I’d tear off down the hallway tossing curler after curler in my wake.  My poor mom!  As a parent that sort of thing would have driven me nuts, to take the time and to have my child “undo” all of the “doing” in an instant.

If only we could have a chance to collect our experiences and average them out.  I believe that the positive would outweigh the negative…and then it would all simply be marginally above ordinary.  Okay, maybe I wouldn’t wish to live in a world of “average”…there is something to be said about extraordinary!  I guess the question remains, how do I want to live?

We all have a record that is playing and the song is unique to us.  Do we choose to only hear the scratches OR do we decide to focus on the beautiful music that is playing despite the wear on the vinyl?  It seems to me, if we focus too much on the scratches, the unfavorable will seem more burdening than it actually is…and in that we miss out on a quality experience of the uplifting beat.

Yes…the crowded band room at my son’s school was a scratch in the record or on the other hand, music to my ears.  The simple fact is, I gained a new perspective and for that unexpected opportunity, I am grateful.

Happy May-be Today

During the span between this blog and the next I’m slotted for another birthday.  I’m holding an invisible counting meter in my hand and the moment the seconds pull me over the edge at midnight on May-day, I can tally another year.  It’s funny…there’s always a moment of reckoning and in that, a bitter-sweet experience.  There are some years more bitter; other years more sweet, all depending.

I’ve had some zingers for birthday’s throughout my (ahem) 48 soon to be 49 years.  At the ripe old age of 4 I was struck in the head by a “Popeye” spinach can and had to be rushed to the hospital for stitches.  To this day a scar remains visible near the arch of my left eyebrow.  A boy in the neighborhood threw an empty can and it pelted me with sinister intent.  I never blamed Popeye and I continued to love spinach…I just carried a scar ever since… a birthday present from many moons ago.

I attended an uncles’ funeral one year…which was the saddest birthday ever.  I played soccer with my son’s team in a parent-child match.  I was surprised, forgotten, and on one occasion, ended up as a passenger in a smoking car on the expressway.  I partied with my college friends on my 21st, went to the movies with another on my 17th, sat in a bath tub and cried because I felt elderly on my 23rd.  I experienced my marriage in a tailspin, worried tremendously for my daughter’s future on another…and then mixed into many dips and spikes were just plain and ordinary, “dinner, cake and candle” experiences.

I’ve had a ritual since working from home…on the morning of my birthday I’ll close the draperies, pour myself a nice cup of Chai, turn off the phone(s), and find myself a movie that is worth offering my complete focus to watch.  Without any sort of guilt, I escape into someone else’s life and perspective.  That “me time” is my simple birthday indulgence each year.  When it’s over, I reconnect to life once again all through the power button on the phones.

Typically, I take stock.  I figure out where I am and where I long to be.  I make a list.  I boot up my computer and study the many pictures I’ve taken in the past.  I pay close attention to the happy expressions that I captured of my family; I recall the rich experiences I’ve had over the past year.  I take the time to appreciate the many blessings that I have…and there are many.

I accept my life and all that the added year means in regards to the future.

A couple of years ago (as I’ve mentioned on this blog previously) my doctor told me that I needed to expect the worse…that it was likely that I had cancer.  He then scheduled me for a biopsy.  It was a frightening ordeal; but the positive came when I decided to jump head first into publishing my first book on Amazon.  The truth is, when there is much uncertainty about what the future holds, it definitely changes “how” we live today.  The little things are more recognizable, the big things we work hard to change and fast.  Feeling good, feeling strong…breathing, seeing, hearing, touching, holding and loving no longer are a “given.” 

Happy isn’t tomorrow, it isn’t if I lose ten pounds or have $_____ amount of money in the bank, it isn’t the trip that I always wanted to take but can’t afford, the expensive car that I’ll buy five years from now…happy is NOW.  It’s a decision that no matter who, what, where, when or why is surrounding the day to day, that one will be mindful of a positive attitude and really appreciate regardless.  Change what can be changed and accept what can’t…but be happy in the moment.

After being told that I did not have cancer…well, I walked out of that meeting leaping for joy.  I was forever changed in the most positive of ways.  I often allowed many negative experiences to drag me down and now I realize all that I have is right before me, just the same as everyone else.  The saying “don’t sweat the small stuff,” well most of what was troubling me was small stuff.

I also began to realize that I have a choice on who to fill my life with and how attitude is contagious.  I had fallen into a pit of being dumped on.  I’m not talking about relationships that have a proper give-take balance, and when my friends need help, no matter what, I’m there for them.  What I’m speaking about are the people who only have “take” on their menu for order.  “I, I, I, me, me, me…” and at the end of the conversation they quickly ask merely out of courtesy, “oh and how are you doing?” without really listening to a response. 

At this point in my life, I now screen my phone calls…I choose who to offer my time to and who to not.  I must do this otherwise I’ll miss my opportunity to write stories and meet deadlines...and reach for the stars. 

Ten years ago I would have never done such a thing…heck, five years ago for that matter.  I believe there’s a lot of wisdom that arrives as the years pass and we gain life experience. It all boils down to saying, “I matter and I’m willing to set boundaries on behalf of myself, of my goals and my future.”

For many years I had a close BF.  We grew up together and she and I were like sisters.  We went everywhere together, laughed, played and spat.  The relationship became rather strained once we began high school.  She was a couple of years younger than me and she was into band, while I was into art.  She was a boy chaser and I was more into being chased.  The thing is; I didn’t recognize that it was not a balanced relationship.  I was there when she needed me but she was seldom available in return.  I was stepped on, taken for granted, teased and taken advantage of.  She was not a kind and loyal person to me, only to herself.

I held on to that friendship based on “what-was” as opposed to “what-is.”  Fast forward to after college…after marriage and after babies, and regardless of where I was and what I was doing each year, I would phone her on her birthday.  We’d chat and play catch up and go on with life until the next would roll around.  One year when I called, she was very cruel and judgmental of me…all based on assumptions she had made from the past, as opposed to the woman I had evolved into present day.  After that particular conversation, I made the decision that I was done and that it was time to cut my losses.  I never phoned her again, nor did she call me.

I’ve never looked back with regret at my decision.  You see, something that I’ve learned is that not all relationships are meant to go the distance.  We’re all walking our own unique path on this great journey called life.  Sometimes our lives intermingle sometimes they move in opposite directions.  Sometimes it’s forever, other times there’s an expiration date.  The bottom line…we must always look out for the integrity of self and protect it at all costs.  If a friendship is not working, move on…embrace the next leg of the journey forward...but never accept the mistreatment of others…and recognize people who discourage so as to put them at a safe distance far, far behind.

Yes another year has passed.  I remain youthful in my thoughts and in my spirit…now I wish there was some way for my aging body to keep in tune with my young tendencies.  Now there would be the ultimate wish of all wishes as I blow out those candles next week!

Thanks for checking in…see you next time.

~Trixie

 

 


 

Floored By That

On Sunday I broke ground.  I’m currently re-doing the floor in our small bathroom.  I removed the basin, replaced the compression shut off valve and tore up the vinyl flooring.  The glue beneath started in with an immediate mocking. “Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha…I’m going to make your life a living hell for the next few days!”  The thing about adhesive, it’s a sticky mess!

While the glue was still pliable, I used the putty knife to scrape away as much as I could.  By Monday evening however, despite using a continuous spray of water, the glue transformed into a solid mass of stubbornness.  I haven’t been using my office this week to write but instead have taken to the upstairs easy chair with my laptop.  Here’s why…

Is it wrong to admit I worry a LOT?  I plugged the basin hole with rags for (I know this sounds a bit irrational) it can’t be healthy to have sewer gas seeping in through the edges.  I’ve been limiting my time in that area just as a precaution.  I should probably mention my concerns about the creepy crawlies that may slither up and through.   I was after all, an avid fan of the “X-files” so I know what lives in the dark land of sewer pipe.  Alligators, rats, monsters or roaches; none of which are welcome in my home.   

Adding to this, I’ve been using boiling water to loosen the glue on the floor.  I even attempted to use a technique I learned through “how to” footage on youtube that includes a steam iron and an old bath towel.  There’s a reason for the saying “stuck like glue,” and that reason is apparent; linoleum floor adhesive. 

Yet, I refuse to apply the harsh chemicals of commercial remover, so today with the need for a different approach; I pulled out the random orbit sander.  I located a very porous sand paper, put on my old clothes, goggles, face mask, thick rubber gloves and clicked on the yellow beast.  The unit shook this way and that until the pad disintegrated.  Pieces flew in all directions as I stood wondering if other people had such rotten luck when attempting such things or if it was just me?

I changed clothes back into my everyday writing attire then returned upstairs to finish the chapter I was penning.  I’ll admit it here…I was grateful that I had an imaginary doorway to leave all home improvements behind.  The Oregon Trail seemed to offer more comfort and luxury than that blasted floor.  At that point I toyed with the idea of returning the flooring and using a bit of sealer to enhance the pattern of dried glue.  Despite the abstract “eye sore” quality, it would be unique…add a bit of color perhaps and we’d have an artistic masterpiece! 

I wish I could write my way into having the floor completed.  This is how it would go:  the vinyl lifted from the floor in a single tug.  All of the glue from the bottom was adhered to the paper so additional removal was unnecessary.  With a simple damp mop the floor was fully prepped for the next step of laying ceramic tile.  Everything went as planned and the flooring was grouted without any stress or worry.  The end result glistened as rays of sunshine reflected from the new materials.  The home owner grinned with pride at a job easily done!

IF only…I mean it…if only! 

Reality check.  I ended up driving to the hardware store to replace the pad on the sander before grinding my way to the concrete below.  I sanded for about an hour which was a lot considering the small confines of the room.  Despite the effort, it still appears as if a chemical remover will be necessary.  Such things make me uncomfortable…I’d rather not and just say we did.  There is after all, the horrible vapor quality from such products and they are highly flammable.

The sanding proved to be messier than it was worth.  A fine dust spread throughout the downstairs and eventually traveled in an up-swing.  I used an electric air cleaner with a good filtration system but that did not prevent the particles from sailing everywhere.   What a mess, WHAT a MESS!

Upon further research I learned of a new product called, “Genie Zap” to aid in dire circumstance.  It’s rather expensive and they keep a limited quantity in the back room of select hardware stores throughout the U.S..  The container is rather ornate and you must sign a legal waver indicating you will not hold the hardware store financially responsible if things go amiss.  The bottle must be handled with heavy duty chemical resistant gloves, available for an additional $25.00 but worth the investment.  The thing about home improvements, one must always take the necessary precautions for safety.

When you bring the bottle home, open it with great caution and wait.  A puff of smoke rises from the enclosure until a human form appears.  The “Genie” will offer one single “zap” on behalf of your project.  In this situation you must consider your words very carefully.  One “ask” is all that is offered and there is no sort of un-do! 

I read a testament of this poor fellow that intended to remove shingles from his roof in order to save tearing off three layers.  Genie Zap provided a re-move-al all right for the roof was set in a constant re-move.  It’d shift up and off then back again, up and off and then back again…and there was no shutting off the re-move!  The good news is that it moved so quickly that all weather was deflected from that moment on; the bad news was how the roof was never in the same place twice.

Granted “Genie Zap” should only be used for desperate circumstances.  I’m not sure if I’m ready to surrender yet or not.  We’ll see if I’m desperate enough to use the laminate glue remover and deal with the noxious fumes or the ultimate zap.

Seriously though, with a bit of luck a new floor will be completed in the near future.  Genie or not, ready or not, dynamite or shellac, it’s all for the great step in the right direction…in fact, that would be my simple wish.