In which the ME gets in the way of progress

 

Today has been a ratbag ME day wherein not all my complete sentences are compl. . . .   And I find myself standing outside some door or other staring at my keys and wondering what the one thing has to do with the other thing.*  And Mondays are voice lesson and ringing at one of Colin's towers in the evening.  Oh, and earning a living.

            Remember first and foremost that as ME goes I have a mild case.  But it is interesting the extent to which you can sometimes learn to manage your shortcomings.  I was talking to Niall about this coming home from bell practise tonight—that first time I began learning method ringing I had to give it up when the ME felled me.  I did have to give it up—I spent about eighteen months not able to do anything but lie on the sofa and watch BUFFY—but I remember the six months or so leading to that culminating takedown.  There were a lot of days like today, where everything is foggy and slippery . . . but I had no idea how to cope.  The only thing I knew how to do was fight back—which is the wrong answer.  You have to learn to . . . slip and fog yourself.  You don't confront ME as an enemy—or as an equal;  you're not equals—it's stronger than you are, which is your First Lesson.  And I don't, after all, find the enemy model all that useful;  I know some people do.  But the ME is part of me.  As someone with a chronic, lifelong case of Low Self Esteem, self-hatred is a real and constant danger as well as an incredible waste of time and energy.  Let's not go there.  So I don't (mostly).  I'm a 59-year-old female Caucasian mezzo-soprano bell-ringing rose-gardening storyteller with bad teeth, hellhounds and ME.  Nu.  Deal.**

            In my experience you have to learn to slip and fog individually for each activity—and I've been ringing bells longer than I've been taking voice lessons, for all that bell ringing is a deeply alien activity for someone with my shape of brain*** and singing is pretty normal for almost everybody—and I'm on the right side of the line in that I can carry a tune.†  Which is another way of saying that today's voice lesson was not the most superb I've ever had, although some of that is the frelling Italian.  Today was not a good day to be trying to sing in a foreign frelling language for the first time for Nadia.††  But I did come away with some new stuff written down in my notebook and a wary sense that it might some day be possible to remember that I'm only allowed five vowel sounds.†††

            I came home and found an email from Niall wanting to know which house to pick me up from.  Of course I went bell ringing.  I clawed what neurons I could find out of the shadows, dusted them off, tied them up with twine, and went.  And while I was about as reliable as a plastic tin-opener, we did ring Stedman and I did successfully ring several evil coathanger singles, and they're becoming positively familiar, which means I've learnt how to slip and fog my way through Stedman (doubles), which is good.  The shocker of the evening was the Cambridge—having been dragged by the hair through a plain course and preparing drearily to stand my bell, Colin kept us going through a second course which, after I had totally frelled the beginning because I was expecting to stop . . . was about as good as I've ever rung Cambridge at all.  Which isn't very good, but it's nonetheless a testament to my increasing slip-and-fog skills.

            I then came home again to a lot of questions about the auction from poor Blogmom, who is trying to make the practical end work . . . and the last neuron I had I blew on Cambridge.  But I thought I could at least answer a few of your questions.

Maren wrote 

PamAdams wrote on Mon, 25 July 2011 12:15


Have I missed something or is the auction not posted yet?

Don't worry! It's not up yet, but Blogmom is feverishly working to get it ready.

She would be less feverish if I had given her everything she needed.  But we are getting there.  Truly.

I don't think you'll be able to miss it when it does go up, as I expect there will be a blog post or several with big pink text.

I think that's a fair prognostication. . . .

Julia

. . . Robin has nearly 3,000 people who "like" her Facebook page, and more than 3,000 followers on Twitter. Even if there is a certain amount of overlap, that's a great many people. Imagine if we all gave $5 to help save the bells. That's a lot of money! Granted, it isn't terribly likely that EVERYONE from FB/Twitter would give. But if even half that number did- 3,000 people times $5 each is 15,000! I know that I could manage $5 for sure!

Remember the doodles.  There will be $5 and $10 doodles.  You aren't expected to throw money at me!  I will throw doodles back!  And, since you mention it . . . $15,000 would do nicely, thank you. . . .

rhymeswithcarrot

. . . I will bid as much as my graduate student budget allows! . . . I'm also eyeing a copy of Knot in the Grain (if Knot in the Grain is on the list…I can't remember) and a foogit doodle. Yay, foogits! 

KNOT wasn't in the original list because I . . . forgot.  But it was in the list by the time (blushing slightly) I read this comment.   And a foogit doodle is entirely possible.

glanalaw

. . . I'd pay at least $10 extra for an autograph . . . And I would go for a doodle as well. I'm on one of those exceedingly strict student budgets but I'd be willing to go without a lot to support you and the bells. (Heck, I'd go without tea for a while if necessary. And tea is one of the essentials of life.)

No, no!  You mustn't try to go without tea!  That would be dangerous! [says the tea addict, trembling at the thought].  Present plan is that all McKinley hardbacks in print will be available, although that rhythmic thumping noise you hear is Blogmom and I beating our respective heads against our respective walls as I change my mind again.

Rain.drop 7

I would ABSOLUTELY pay a premium for a signed copy of Sunshine! . . . I was worried all I would be able to afford was a doodle (Not that there is ANYTHING wrong with your doodles, I will still be buying one either way I am quite sure). This is a great idea, especially for those of us across oceans who can't attend book signings. PLEASE do this! Think of the bells.

I am thinking of the bells.  No, don't worry, the signed-with-doodle books are now firmly on the list.  Details to come.  As soon as I figure out what they are and Blogmom has patiently explained to me (again) that they're hopelessly unwieldy and I have to think of something else (again).    

danceswithpahis

So are the doodles going to be auctioned, or will they have set prices? 

Set prices.  Doodles ($5 and $10) and signed-with-doodle hardbacks (probably $35 for any/all) are for those of you who don't want to get into the auction thing. 

boddhi_d

You could do the doodle on bookplates (or bookplate-sized paper); Jan Brett does this to good effect, autographing bookplates.

Jan Mark is a proper artist.  I'm a writer who doodles.  My doodles are just a value-added joke to give this charity gig some . . . er . . . fizz.

amyrose 

Thank you for considering autographed books with a doodle! I would definitely like one, and would have a hard time not being greedy and going for two. And a separate bat doodle, of course.

Excellent.  Very excellent.  I like greed in a contributor.  Have several doodles while you're at it. 

Susan in Melbourne

In the Project Management world that I inhabit we refer to the concept of 'scope creep' when people have lots of good new ideas, usually long after the budget has been established. 

This made me laugh and laugh.  Scope creep indeed.  That's exactly what's been going on, and why it's taking Blogmom so long to get the back end built . . . and why we are not taking any more ideas, new or creepy . . . I'm creepy enough without help.  But it's also why you're going to have autographed and doodled flat-rate books as an option, so what a good thing someone spoke up before the portcullis crashed down.

And . . . thanks.  Thanks very much.  I'll thank you even more when it's all over . . .  

* * *

 * Or just now, when I filled the electric kettle with water and turned it on.  I then went into one of my little dazes and came out the other side staring intently at the right rear burner on the cooker, listening to the water coming to a boil and wondering what the significance^ of boiling water plus back burner might be.  Unh.  Well, on the days I have a brain, I put my teapot on that burner, fill it up with peppermint leaves and hot water, and put a tea cozy over it.  On days I don't have a brain, I stand there staring.

            Days like this I'm afraid I'll forget to feed the hellhounds.  They'd probably be delighted.

^  'Significance' is a very good word to remember on a day like today.  It could easily have been the whatsit of boiling whatsit plus back whatsit. 

** Sure.  Puns intended.

*** Lots of fantasy.  No maths.

† Mostly. 

†† Che Faro—that hoary aria from Gluck's Orfeo—doesn't count.  My Italian is no better in it, but all those funny syllables are familiar in this particular context and order. 

††† And furthermore I have to choose the right one every time.  Cheeeez.  But I want to be able to sing in Italian.  If I don't get any farther into foreign repertoire I can live with that.  But I want Italian.