Somewhere Between

It’s a rattling nice place.
After my altered engagement
Truly programming is nothing
However it’s a logic
That does not come to me.
-The latest #spampoetry

I had a thought that I wanted to write down, but I lost it somewhere between homework and reloading the dishwasher and dozing off in front of American Ninja Warrior. It’ll come to me tomorrow, most likely during a round of questioning my life choices, otherwise known as running behind a middle school cross country team. I’ll find it.  Eventually.

Throw

No spam commentary this week: all the fake comments I’ve gotten since my last post were all straightforward pitches for the male enhancement supplements I apparently need to be taking. Guess I’m just not a convincing female, despite this pesky c-section scar.

Happy Monday. I’ve been trying to post things on Mondays, to throw something together and stick it up on the blog in twenty-fiveish minutes or so, reckoning that getting what I can say said within that time period is preferable to something I’ve crafted from the finest syllables and polished to within an inch of its life, because you will likely never see that, and if you do, it won’t be within the next ten years.1

Trying, yep. And failing, but in a happy way: I’ve been getting decent amounts of sleep, and balancing work with the spring school schedule (mine and the Monster’s) and the ongoing domestic shenanigans in a way that’s more like, well, balance and less like throwing plates into an overhead cabinet while hoping I’m the only one that’ll ever open that door after it’s shut. I’m continuing my twenty-five minutes of morning reading-stuff-just-because-I-want-to2, my twice-a-week gym workouts, my once-a-week bread therapy, and once I finish the remaining sleeve4, I will have crocheted my first sweater. I’ve also resumed chasing the Monster during his cross country runs, which I’m still certain might be scaring the local wildlife.

Writing? It’s also happening. The piece I submitted in February was rejected, which made me very happy, because it was one of those things that should have gotten lost in an electronic file purge.

And that’s pretty much all I can talk about right now. At least it’s not laundry!


1This is assuming I wouldn’t trash it during one of my every five years or so electronic file purges, because nothing’s safe or sacred when I get on one of those tears. During the last one, I got rid of a journal that I’d compiled out of hand written ones that I’d kept off and on for two decades.

2I just finished Jenny Lawson’s Furiously Happy (which I still conflate with my favorite Björk song). In ways, her stories were awkwardly familiar. While I haven’t ever put on a costume to infiltrate a band of koalas, I did stay up for an entire week once to do a research project on Lucky Charms. Not for money. Not for a marketing class (never taken one). I don’t even like the cereal. I had the idea stuck in my head that General Mills had increased the frequency rate of new marshmallow introductions as Nickelodeon had gained market share, and I wanted to prove I wasn’t crazy. Yes, I know that was asking a lot from breakfast cereal, but at least it wasn’t poetry.3

3I don’t mourn the loss of my old journal. It wasn’t something I would have wanted to share with the world, even if I’d known there was a market for batshit.

4The idea of making a sweater has daunted me for years. I start with the “make a swatch to check your gauge” step each time, fail that each time, try it again, fail it again, and throw everything into the closet for another year, rinse, lather, repeat, WhyCan’tIGetThisRight?, et cetera. This time, I skipped the gauge swatch step, and just tackled the project as something to do while I finally got around to watching Suits while waiting for this season of The Expanse. I don’t watch much television. When I do, I like to have something to work on that makes me feel like I’m not completely wasting my time while parked on my butt, but my habit of blindered focus on story-based entertainment means that I don’t have much attention span to spare for that which is making me feel like I’m not completely wasting my time while parked on my butt. So, I’m getting a sweater made by ignoring it while I’m in the process of making it. Yep. I’ll post a picture when it’s done.

To be clear, I’ll be posting a picture of the sweater, not my c-section scar.

Points on a Woogedy Timeline

Woogedy (woo-geddy) was a word I grew up hearing1; [x] is woogedy or woogedy [x] translates to “[x] will progress or is progressing, but the progression will be/is neither in a direct nor predictable manner”, comme ça:

curvy-road-ahead-sign-01

Having woogedy in my vocabulary made it possible for me to understand one of my Most Favorite Short Stories Ever (Alfred Bester’s “Galatea Galante”) as soon as I accidentally read it as a young’n2, without needing to know what the heck a Drunkard’s Walk was.

So, this week?  Woogedy life is woogedy. I’ve made it to Week #3 of that Coursera course, yep, Week #3 and there’s only four. Only four, so I am so close to finishing it that I can almost taste it … which is exactly when the universe tends to decide to drop more Bright Shiny Objects into my life. Or Dark Spiky Objects, because it’s 2016, and I am beginning to think that as a planet we’ve hit a cloud of them like we haven’t seen since, oh, maybe 1968.

History books strongly suggest (to me, anyway) that year also sucked. I can’t say much of it was my fault, since I wasn’t born until that December. Nor can I take much credit for our going to the moon the following year, even though I’ve been told I was genuinely fascinated by all the news about space … as opposed to just staring into space so intently that I look blurry in almost all of my candid baby pictures.3

We did go to the moon in 1969, though. We also managed to get through the Cold War without blowing ourselves up, so we didn’t terminally screw things back then — and  though we’ve had as many setbacks as we’ve had successes, there are still signs that as a whole, we’re still growing and learning more about our universe, despite some of us being hellbent on keeping us locked in windowless dark basements listening to the mice chewing the insulation while telling ourselves they’re all Godzillas.

And I’m rambling … because I’m also woogedy. I sat down to bang this out in an hour, and while it’s probably been about an hour of writing on this, there have been many, many Do Now Objects between when I sat down and now, and probably there will be many more before I finish this.

Today is the Monster’s first day of Middle School. He got up, got dressed, ate most of his breakfast, then noticed that we hadn’t taken out the garbage and recycling yet, so he wandered away from his breakfast and took care of that before getting on the bus.  When I was eleven, I wouldn’t have wandered away from shoving breakfast in my face before school to take out the garbage, no matter how necessary it was to get done.

So, I got some sun in my eyes, and got all misty about The Monster’s not being where I expected him to be, but still growing and learning, and being exactly where he needs to be on his woogedy.4

We’ll be okay. The rest of 2016 will probably find new ways to suck, but we will be okay. Eventually. Overall, we are still better than we were.

Except for the laundry.

Freaking laundry.

1 I did some quick prepost research to see if woogedy was a genuine word, or just one lifted from (what is becoming increasingly apparent and a little uncomfortable making) my family’s invented dialect … which, yes, I’ve spread to my husband and son, and good grief, maybe that’s how language starts in the first place. Woogedy was apparently used in a kid’s cartoon series called Rocket Power starting back in the very late ’90s. I’ve never seen the series — as a semi-grown person then with not a lot of time I wanted to spend watching television, I was only following this obscure cult cartoon called The West Wing. I’m sure you’ve never heard of it. [INSERT APPROPRIATE EMOJI HERE]

2While I’d repeatedly read every science reference book I could get my hands on by that point5, I wasn’t introduced to science fiction until 1980, when Tara Thompson, one of my middle school classmates, got stuck with my name for the classroom gift exchange. She had no clue what to get me, but knew I liked books and I liked science, so she gave me Terry Carr’s The Best Science Fiction of the Year #9, which probably wasn’t appropriate reading for a just-turned-twelve year old but heck, since it wasn’t a romance novel6, my grandmother and mother didn’t mind, and that’s what mattered.

3The Monster inherited this trait.

4The Monster is more even-keeled than I was at eleven, and more cheerful than @bhoneydew was at the same age, and is still more of an athlete than both his parents will ever be, unless we snap and start doing Ironmans (which he’d want to do too, and be better at it than both of us, so vicious cycle).

5If I didn’t understand things then, I just kept reading them until I could make them make sense, and honestly, that hasn’t changed all that much now that I’m a little further along on the grownup trajectory. We do have Google now, which does make that process faster.

6I was reading those, too, just when they weren’t looking — especially the ones they’d thought they’d hidden under the dryer in the bathroom.

Working Through The End of Summer List

Since July 12th, I’ve…

  • Made two week-long-away-from-home business trips. These are the first I’ve been on since The Monster was a year old.
  • Turned in multiple projects, including one co-written while on flights back home. Let me tell you, having wireless on an airplane is fantastic, both when it works and when it doesn’t (because if I hadn’t had that involuntary nap on connector flight #2, I would have never stayed awake long enough once I got home to finish the project).
  • Done a lot of laundry. There have been a number of times I’ve seriously reconsidered my life choices because of the amount of freaking laundry that’s been done and It Still Keeps Coming Back. Other times, I’ve just wanted to cry into the fresh clean clothes that I’d bought two washes ago, and they fit fine until after their second wash.  Just wanted to cry.  Those were The Monster’s clothes.  Had they been mine, I would have definitely been booing the hoo.
  • Managed to get in only one workout, and my eating wasn’t consistent enough to be called a habit. I gained ten pounds one week, dropped twelve the next, gained four back, lost ten … yes, just nuts.  I am genuinely looking forward to getting my butt kicked at the gym again — and all of that will resume once the Monster starts back to school.  Will the meal planning also resume?  Let’s hope.  Though I must say, I did manage two planned dinners so far this week, so I’m kind of excited.1
  • Signed up for my first charity walk. It’s a walk, not a run, but it’s for the same cause who had that charity run I freaked out about four years ago. I’m healthier than I was then, at least physically.  Mentally?  It’s okay, you can say “jury still seems to be out on that, Shai”.
  • Made it to Week #2 of another Coursera course.  Will I succeed in finishing this one? Tune in next month, after I start the on-line networking2 class that I’m taking to keep my enrollment current so I can get back into this spring’s on-campus PL/SQL course and finish my freaking data certificate.  Yes, while I’m going back to the gym, and working, and trying to figure out why it is Taking So Long to get the patio finished. Oh, and that bioscience Coursera course that I so wanted to take this spring?  It has another session in September, so, there’s that too…
  • In the quest to let more positive energy into my life…

…yes, I did just type that, I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of a less fluffy way to say it. I’ve been Twittering along with an author named Kathy Grubb (@10MinNovelist) for, oh, probably a few years now.  She’s a sunny person who has figured out a way to herd her cats and flatten her dragons while also making sure her goals stay important to her3, and as an extra bonus, achieving those goals in the process.  I admire the heck out of that, and since I’ve wound up wading in the Facebook, I decided to splash over and check out the pool where she and other similarly minded folks hang out.

To my delight, it’s been a wholly non-toxic experience.  The group’s also active enough to drown out a lot of the unhappy-making stuff that still manages to creep into my Facebook feed, despite my best efforts not to paint my own wall with troll poop.

The one downside?  The group encourages their members to share their blog posts, so you might be seeing more of these from me in future.  Notice that I’m saying might.

1I’m not kidding.  I do get excited over tiny things like that these days.
2Computer networking, not people networking. Yes. Even though I’ve worked in that field and taken classes in that … yes. Don’t get me started on how many credits I’ve lost in transfers because they were over ten years old.
3Emphasis wholly mine, because I’ve always found it easy to toss or change my goals and objectives in reaction to circumstances instead of sticking with them.

In The Muddle

Excellent note, one of the best I have seen. The explanation is correct in every way.
-#SpamCommentary

It is taking me days to write this post. I found the SpamCommentary quote on May 24th, and I’m typing these words on May 30th, when I should be getting up and going to the store because even though I’d planned for all the food this weekend, I didn’t get the meal plan together for this week, and it’s Monday, and I’m not on the telephone, so I should be getting up and going to the store, though I could be working on the project that’s due on Wednesday, or the one that’s due in early September.

I’m getting up and going to the store.

It’s July 12th. I should be working on the project that’s due on Wednesday, or getting up and going to the store, or any of the easily a dozen other things that need to be done, but I stumbled across this old draft post that I’d forgotten about, and decided to finish it instead of just deleting it.

Yes, that is rare for me. I tend to stop more things than I ever finish, and often delete them when I stumble on them again — assuming I don’t get fed up with them or myself (it’s usually myself) and choose not to save them at all. I rarely suffer from anguish or guilt when I do this, which probably says there’s something deeply wrong with me, but, hey, it’s not like I’m kicking puppies, right?

Not much has changed since last week, other than the Monster’s coming down with chicken pox. Yes. He’s been vaccinated. He’s had both doses. He still has chicken pox, so his schedule for the week’s right out the window, which frankly bothers us more than it does him.

And that’s … yep. That’s about it. See, there’s utterly nothing exciting happening that’s been distracting me from blogging!

p.s. We’re not even playing Pokemon Go.

Inevitabilities

Oh, how to start?
Where I am now
Is even less me than art
The feinting thump
Of an armadillo heart
Hey, I can walk in your shoes all day
Probably best to keep it that way.

–2.1.2016

Last week’s cryptic post was brought to you courtesy of my mother’s making an unexpected exit from the world. It was followed a few days later by my losing my great aunt; less unexpectedly, but damn, my family’s sense of dramatic timing.1

I’m now back home, up to my eyebrows in work that’s been keeping me up to 5HourEnergyCaliberUnfortunateHoursOfTheMorning, and now and again my brain gets stuck on the fact that my mother — who was Payroll Officer for a community college — made sure that she didn’t drop dead before she got out this year’s W2s.

Her shellshocked co-workers kept repeating that to me when they filed in for her viewing and funeral (and feeding us, bless ’em). Peggy got out the W2s.

@bhoneydew and I did our taxes as soon as we got back.

Now and again, my brain gets stuck on that fact too.

—-
1One of the ways I kept myself together last week was imagining I was in a movie, and doing mental exercises as far as who I’d cast to play us all, and who’d do the cinematography and soundtrack. My sister (wisely) curated my in-the-real-world choices for funeral music. My (wiser) Monster opted to sing along anyway. Loudly. In a chapel full of stunned silent people. I was dumbfoundedly proud of him. Also wondering where he’d been listening to Miss Dolly and Miss Loretta sing gospel music, but more proud than dumbfounded.

Boundary Problems (continued)

New Things That The Monster Has Determined Are Not Poison:

Caramel popcorn1.
Cereal with (almond!) milk in it.
Cheeseburger.
Cheese popcorn1.
Cherry pie.
Chicken without fillers in it.
Chinese fortune cookies.
Chocolate almond milk.
Crunchy spring roll.

Yes, I also find it suspicious that everything on this list starts with ‘C’, but I’m so not investigating that, no way, no how.  I’ll continue to pretend that it’s got to be a coincidence, just like it’ll be a coincidence when carambola, churro and cucumber turn up on his plate.


1 While he’s always been a fan of popcorn, it’s had to be plain or butter-flavored — as long as it was dry, but not powdery.