This simply has to be told appropriately, so here goes:
It is a shiny warm day while I walk along the boulevard that flanks the Mediterranean sea. Tourists and locals mill quietly over the newly paved walk, parents playing with their kids, buying ice creams and souvenirs from the multitude of stand lining the street, while a cheerful buzz surrounds me on all sides.
An average day for the Costa del Sol, really, and yet there is a strange vibration in the air. A pounding sound, distant but constant as the seagulls screech overhead, heading land inward in search of food, no doubt. There appears to be a crackle of energy all around, and yet I cannot pinpoint its cause while I look at the colorful displays in front of the many stores that run along the length of the boulevard.
I am examining a particularly nice sarong when I glance around warily, bugged by the sound that seems to be increasing with every passing minute. What is it? It buzzes, and yet it is like some sort of sloshing sound, rhythmically pounding as my eyes are slowly drawn toward the water’s edge.
Frowning, I turn. Is it my imagination or is the water vibrating in beat with the sound, I wonder, glancing up when another pesky seagull screeches, and draws my full attention as it heads away from the beach and into town.
That can’t be right, I think. Glancing back the way I came when to my horror I see the shoreline begin to recede. This can’t be happening, I think somewhat nervously, thinking back of the stories about tsunamis and the likes on the news. But there it is, where the water first lapped, it is steadily drawing away, revealing the rocky sea bottom for all to see.
Amazed, I stare at it for a solid ten seconds before I drop the sarong and back away.
Rather than waste time like my fellow pedestrians I try to remember where I parked the car, and for the life of me can’t. Mild panic begins to form in my mind by then, as I wonder how the heck I’m going to get away from there before disaster strikes…as I have no doubt it will.
While around me people are starting to take notice as well, actually heading towards the shore, I start backing up, heading into town, and higher ground when a distant rumble takes over from the throbbing sound, filling my ears when I get about two blocks away from the boulevard and chance a glance back over my shoulder.
There, at the distant horizon, where usually Africa is visible a dark line has appeared, announcing what I am sure is a real-live tsunami heading straight towards the busy shore.
From the corner of my eye, I see Bommel, my bobtail, and, wondering what the heck he’s doing here in town with me, I run over and wrap my blouse around his neck as a leash when mom comes tearing around the corner in a silver truck.
Since the cab is filled with two of the sibs and several more dogs, I toss Bommel into the truck bed and jump in after him just a second before mom pushes the pedal down and hurls us down the street that is slowly starting to fill with other cars.
By this time I’m starting to suspect that this is not reality, but a dream once again, as along the way we come across two more of our dogs that soon join me in the back of the truck. Though, in some distant part of my brain I am aware that this is a dream, tension is thick when the traffic jams in the center of town.
The roar of the sea is deafening by now, and while calling the remarkably obedient dogs to follow us, we get out of the car and start running towards the higher ground, about two miles from where we are at this particular time.
We’re not going to make it, we all realize when screams and chaos ensuing sounds from the way we came. Up ahead little brother shouts over the noise that the train is coming, and that if we hurry we can jump right on, making me roll my eyes somewhat comically.
Now, if I didn’t suspect it all to be a dream already, that would have tipped me of right there, considering that there are no freight trains going through town. But, in the dream we miraculously manage to jump on, humans and dogs alike, looking back in silent awe as we see a gigantic wave sweep through the streets and right over our truck, stuck between the other cars that have been left by fleeing passengers and drivers, right there on the roundabout.
Holding tight to the steel bracing on the train wagon, I suck in my breath as the wave obviously possesses more speed than my current mode of transportation, nears; shouting at my companions to climb up on the roof, when it becomes clear that we’re not going to clear the wave in time.
I’ve just about managed to throw the last dog on top, when the wave hits the train, sending it hurling off the tracks and into the unpopulated area, which it had been crossing. A massive water-body crashed into the wagon, soaking me from top to bottom as the train screeches and thuds into a sideways slide that protects us against that first wave rolling through the town. I am somewhat amazed, if not incredulous that I’ve managed to keep my hold at all, during the mad tumble.
Urging everyone to get moving and start climbing the steep hill against which the train has slid to a halt, I cast a quick glance back at where the second wave is already rolling over the beach and heading towards where we’re scrabbling up the rocky and muddy hill in hopes of getting to safety.
The dogs are madly rushing up ahead of me, making me shout an unheard warning at mom and the sibs right before the roar of water thundering straight at us… is cut off by the sound of my alarm.
Aaargh! It is so frustrating to be awakened from adventurous dreams. How am I supposed to write a book about such incoherent fragments without a proper ending, I wonder.
But anyway…The day is a clear one when I wake and let the dogs out to storm into the bright sunlight that is warm, as long as I stay out of the chilly wind still blowing in from the north. Feeling stiff and sore from the night that counted eight hours for a change, I do some stretches while at the same time our tenant arrives with her caretaker, sending my dogs to the fences in a flurry of motion and noise.
Rather than dawdle now that I’m still mind-numb with sleep, I head down to the house ASAP, setting myself to the task of the humongous load of laundry that’s waiting to be hung.
With big brother moving back and forth between the house and where I’m busy, we discuss the day’s plans, deciding on just doing messages and the likes on the computers, rather than writing because there’s quite a bit to do today.
By the time the younger sibs join us, I’m up to my eyeballs in cleaning spider webs…the dratted things are back within just a week or so…dust and grease as I clean windows, shelves and lamps that have lost all color due to the thick layer of Sahara sand that always blows into the house during windstorms.
Little sister, always the conscientious one, soon joins me, making us feel somewhat accomplished by the time we decide to quit for the day. The kitchen windows shine, as does the hallway mirror. Corners are empty of spider webs and lamps burn brightly now that clouds are gathering outside to hide the sun. By this time dusk settles and I need to get ready to go out and pay the remainder of the veterinary bill in the village.
Yesterday a phone call from the vet confirmed my suspicion that the bill we’d already paid for Clue was only a partial one, so now we have to drive over to pay the rest.
On the overall, the bill is frightfully high, but still below what I’d expected after everything that was done to save Clue.
The bill paid, and a quick update given to the worried vet + attendant, we decide to go to town as well, in hopes that the new sink has arrived at last at the home improvement store. It hasn’t, we soon find out, so we leave only with a new slide for the drawers before heading back home.
Today’s dinner consists out of leftover carrot soup, which for some reason tastes even better, but doesn’t fall well on my stomach; once again demonstrating against any form of food, and making me feel nauseous. However, with some effort I manage to keep it down, partially due to the fact that I dozed off after eating, sleeping through some boring TV show for about twenty minutes when little brother wakes me up with some question that I answer, but don’t really hear.
Chagrinned at the involuntary nap, I get up from the chair and decide to make coffee to keep myself awake, and settle behind the computer for the agreed upon writing session of the latest project. I’m pleasantly surprised when a few hours later I surface from the new vampire flick with three whole pages to add to the whole, and shut down the computer to see what other preparations we can make for the kitchen-remodeling project.
With my stomach disagreeing with the coffee, too, I suck it up and focus on the task at hand. Measurements are made, some rough sketches added to those already there, before I start sawing the foundation that we’re going to paint and put together in the morning–if all goes according to plan.
By the time we finish, I am rather happy that the day has come to an end, and gather my things and dogs to head on out to the courtyard.
I take one step out when I realize it’s pouring buckets, making me scowl as I discard my vest and sweater, lest they be drenched by the downpour, and knot them around my bag before I hurry the dogs up the mountain and towards the cabin.
The rain is like ice on my skin, penetrating through the long-sleeved T I’m still wearing, within seconds, before I slip inside and shake the excess water off.
With the dogs hurrying on into the rooms–none of them eager to linger out in the rain–I clean today’s mop bucket, just in case an “accident” happens during the night ahead, and then feed my pack.
Luckily it takes me only fifteen minutes to get the stereo going, filling the cabin with music as I settle with a book for a little while and then get crackin’ with the computer once more.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
Remodeling and memories.
Well, I was late getting to bed again, well past six in the morning and more than a little miffed at myself for dawdling that long. I’d hurried through everything so much, and there I was, still not in bed until the hour of six arrived.
The skies cleared throughout the night, leaving the air above wide open for sun to shine when morning arrived. Pretty as ever, stars bright white dots in the vast blackness of space, but still, it was cold as heck.
The dogs shared my opinion of the night for sure, seeing as they all literally lay plastered against, and over, me throughout the night, which left me toasty warm when I woke up somewhere around ten with my arm swollen and tingly from where Chaos had lain splayed over it.
Sleepy limbs. Yuck. Nothing feels worse when you’re sleep drugged and barely capable of forming a single comprehensive thought, while you’re trying to get some life back into the appendage.
No matter though, I drifted right back to sleep until half an hour before waking time the phone rang. There was a dream where I got a rather wonderful letter from some smart publisher who wanted my book…even though I hadn’t even send anything. Hah. But regretfully that was just a dream, and I noticed it while trying to read the letters that I couldn’t make out.
It’s always something I test in dreams, actually. If I can’t read what is written down comprehensively, then I know it’s a dream. Still, in the dream I was thrilled.
The phone call turns out to be nothing of interest–wrong number–making me growl and flop onto my stomach in hopes that the dogs, by some miracle, haven’t noticed. They have, of course, so I get up and start on the morning rituals just five and a half measly hours after bedtime.
I’m not feeling too bad, rolling kinks from my joints and smile into the bright sunlight that shines through my front door for a full minute. Still cold, but at least the sun gives the illusion of warmth as I gather my things and head down to the house.
Exercise day has arrived, and with a mixture of pleasure and dislike I get-to-it the moment I arrive at the house, where big brother’s just finishing up his own session.
What with the chilly temperatures, but the heaters blasting full force, it takes about fifteen minutes to warm up and discard the long sleeved T I put on at the start, for a serious workout.
Perspiration breaks out about half an hour after commencing the day’s routine, which surprises me somewhat, all things considered, but proves that the movements are still having an effect. The punches are getting harder, all muscles working together. Kicks higher and more powerful and jumping is becoming much less of an effort. They hardly make me loose my breath now. The only exercise that still does are the five jab sequence, which really take it out of a person, but even those don’t make me double over now. Progress, I love it!
What with the chill, I take a long HOT shower after an hour’s exercise, my shoulder blades protesting a little after ferociously attacking the bag–pounded out a lot of the past few days’ frustrations, I think–and continuing to do so even after I re-dress and head back to the living area.
Though I didn’t plan to, today, I do write half a page or so, going over the past two days’ progress with big brother as we do some more fine tuning on the general story line of the Bayou vampire story. It’s nicely taking shape now, the plot line’s becoming more solid, reasons and explanations for events getting set “for the record” and details being finalized.
Rather than spend the majority of the day at the computers there are quite a few chores waiting for us, so about an hour before sunset we head on up to the bungalow to make the final arrangements for our tenant, who’ll be returning from the revalidation home tomorrow.
Furniture gets moved around, making everything easily accessible for the wheelchair. Floors and walls swept after a month of disuse. And the bed is freshly made, making everything ready and comfortable for her return tomorrow.
Since we’re up there already we decide to hang up grandpa’s new door, too, ending up being pretty satisfied with the end result that fits an old solid door exactly into the doorway where a ragged one had first hung.
While big brother does a final check of the moped, just to see if it’ll run after at least two weeks of disuse, I head to the house where little sister’s dinner is waiting.
Though my stomach is much better today, I prudently only take a small portion and am happy to find out that I have no trouble keeping the food down today as I settle in a chair to watch a House rerun. Mortified to find myself dozing off near the end, I jump up and start gathering the things we’ll need to hang the last triplet of drawers for the new kitchen.
One of the slides for them, we find, has somehow ended up out of its packet and is lying in a dusty corner. It appears to be all right, but when we start fitting it into the casing, it becomes apparent that something has been damaged, allowing us to hang only two of the drawers now that we’ll have to go to town to get a new slide.
No matter, though: The other two roll in and out smoothly, and the slight inconsistency–the second during this project–of the case being just a few mm too big for the drawers, is rapidly corrected by thin strips of wood wedged along the sides of the slides.
I am pretty pleased to notice that through the hours of the gymnastics necessary for this particular endeavor, I have re-developed an appetite, so, while poring over measurements and tools, big brother and I devour a pizza together, which doesn’t even make my stomach twitch once, while we hang the last drawer and bring everything we used back to the courtyard storage.
By then the eve has drawn to the end, and while we watch an episode of “Frasier” to call in the final hour of the day I find myself thinking back of one of our travels through France.
It is a rather funny memory, really, even though at the time it was somewhat stressful.
It was in France, this particular memory. We had departed from home the day before, and crossed three country borders when we reached the capital city around noon.
We’d just had a short night by the side of the road, after many of hours of driving, so we were all a bit tensed.
Seven people and four dogs were piled into an old converted Mercedes ambulance–turned RV–as we drove into Paris. There were no new sights to see during this particular journey. We’d seen it all before, so the major city was just one of many through which we had to pass in order to get to our destination in Southern Spain. An uncle was behind the wheel, the way he usually did whenever we traveled.
It was a busy day on the roads of Paris–the way they always seemed to be in this particular city–and somehow, while passing the Eiffel tower at a slight distance we ended up on a road without any turn offs. Now this on itself wouldn’t have been much of a problem, had it not been for the fact that we were going in the wrong direction with no sign of being able to turn of anywhere in the near future.
Now one has to know my uncle to understand our dilemma. You see, uncle was a marvelous driver for long distances, somehow when he got behind a wheel he could drive on for days without any trouble whatsoever…as long as there were no surprises on the roads he had to navigate. Now, seeing as he had taken a wrong turn due to a construction sight, and had ended up on a road he was unfamiliar with, we were pretty much stuck on it, for no other reason than the fact that when in doubt, uncle had a tendency to just press the pedal down and keep on driving, no matter what.
So, there we were, wanting to go west, while the road was heading straight north instead, and no matter what was said or done, uncle kept going that way. We pointed out narrow streets in which he could turn off, suggested that he’d make a U turn when the traffic allowed, or just stopped so that we could examine the maps, or ask for directions. Nope. He kept on driving for miles, us kids and teens giggling on the front bench and in the back, joking about how we were going to end up right where we started, right until mom came to the front of the RV and actually had to grab his shoulder for a quick shake, “ordering” him to stop the car right that instant.
At long last he did, looking a little harried as mom and he exchanged places, so she could just make a U turn and head on back the way we came and retrace our trip to the point where we’d turned off the wrong way, calm as you please.
I don’t know why this memory surfaced today, but it was funny thinking back of this event that was one of many much the same: So many travels, each of them having their own funny, scary, exciting, and horrific moments.
In that respect memories are great. What at some point was annoying, or thrilling, now is just a recollection, much like a movie would be. Something to laugh about, or reminisce over, without tensions taking a major role in them.
With this particular memory the evening is officially over and I head to my cabin with the dogs in tow, hurrying their way back inside now that the temperatures have miraculously dropped below ten degrees Celsius. This never happens around this time of year. In the past decade or so that we’ve lived here, such temperatures only arrive nearing the end of January or even February. Global warming at work, I’m thinking.
As is usually the case during winter, my fingers are stiff with cold pretty much all day long, so the first thing I do upon arriving in my quarters is plug in the heater and blissfully stand in front of it, soaking the heat radiating into the bedroom.
It takes me more than half an hour to get my stereo started, but by the time I do, I can settle down with my latest read and slouch back to allow my body to wind down. Once I feel relaxed enough, I boot up my computer and start on the day’s blog.
All things considered it was good day–or at least better then I had expected when I first woke up this morning.
The skies cleared throughout the night, leaving the air above wide open for sun to shine when morning arrived. Pretty as ever, stars bright white dots in the vast blackness of space, but still, it was cold as heck.
The dogs shared my opinion of the night for sure, seeing as they all literally lay plastered against, and over, me throughout the night, which left me toasty warm when I woke up somewhere around ten with my arm swollen and tingly from where Chaos had lain splayed over it.
Sleepy limbs. Yuck. Nothing feels worse when you’re sleep drugged and barely capable of forming a single comprehensive thought, while you’re trying to get some life back into the appendage.
No matter though, I drifted right back to sleep until half an hour before waking time the phone rang. There was a dream where I got a rather wonderful letter from some smart publisher who wanted my book…even though I hadn’t even send anything. Hah. But regretfully that was just a dream, and I noticed it while trying to read the letters that I couldn’t make out.
It’s always something I test in dreams, actually. If I can’t read what is written down comprehensively, then I know it’s a dream. Still, in the dream I was thrilled.
The phone call turns out to be nothing of interest–wrong number–making me growl and flop onto my stomach in hopes that the dogs, by some miracle, haven’t noticed. They have, of course, so I get up and start on the morning rituals just five and a half measly hours after bedtime.
I’m not feeling too bad, rolling kinks from my joints and smile into the bright sunlight that shines through my front door for a full minute. Still cold, but at least the sun gives the illusion of warmth as I gather my things and head down to the house.
Exercise day has arrived, and with a mixture of pleasure and dislike I get-to-it the moment I arrive at the house, where big brother’s just finishing up his own session.
What with the chilly temperatures, but the heaters blasting full force, it takes about fifteen minutes to warm up and discard the long sleeved T I put on at the start, for a serious workout.
Perspiration breaks out about half an hour after commencing the day’s routine, which surprises me somewhat, all things considered, but proves that the movements are still having an effect. The punches are getting harder, all muscles working together. Kicks higher and more powerful and jumping is becoming much less of an effort. They hardly make me loose my breath now. The only exercise that still does are the five jab sequence, which really take it out of a person, but even those don’t make me double over now. Progress, I love it!
What with the chill, I take a long HOT shower after an hour’s exercise, my shoulder blades protesting a little after ferociously attacking the bag–pounded out a lot of the past few days’ frustrations, I think–and continuing to do so even after I re-dress and head back to the living area.
Though I didn’t plan to, today, I do write half a page or so, going over the past two days’ progress with big brother as we do some more fine tuning on the general story line of the Bayou vampire story. It’s nicely taking shape now, the plot line’s becoming more solid, reasons and explanations for events getting set “for the record” and details being finalized.
Rather than spend the majority of the day at the computers there are quite a few chores waiting for us, so about an hour before sunset we head on up to the bungalow to make the final arrangements for our tenant, who’ll be returning from the revalidation home tomorrow.
Furniture gets moved around, making everything easily accessible for the wheelchair. Floors and walls swept after a month of disuse. And the bed is freshly made, making everything ready and comfortable for her return tomorrow.
Since we’re up there already we decide to hang up grandpa’s new door, too, ending up being pretty satisfied with the end result that fits an old solid door exactly into the doorway where a ragged one had first hung.
While big brother does a final check of the moped, just to see if it’ll run after at least two weeks of disuse, I head to the house where little sister’s dinner is waiting.
Though my stomach is much better today, I prudently only take a small portion and am happy to find out that I have no trouble keeping the food down today as I settle in a chair to watch a House rerun. Mortified to find myself dozing off near the end, I jump up and start gathering the things we’ll need to hang the last triplet of drawers for the new kitchen.
One of the slides for them, we find, has somehow ended up out of its packet and is lying in a dusty corner. It appears to be all right, but when we start fitting it into the casing, it becomes apparent that something has been damaged, allowing us to hang only two of the drawers now that we’ll have to go to town to get a new slide.
No matter, though: The other two roll in and out smoothly, and the slight inconsistency–the second during this project–of the case being just a few mm too big for the drawers, is rapidly corrected by thin strips of wood wedged along the sides of the slides.
I am pretty pleased to notice that through the hours of the gymnastics necessary for this particular endeavor, I have re-developed an appetite, so, while poring over measurements and tools, big brother and I devour a pizza together, which doesn’t even make my stomach twitch once, while we hang the last drawer and bring everything we used back to the courtyard storage.
By then the eve has drawn to the end, and while we watch an episode of “Frasier” to call in the final hour of the day I find myself thinking back of one of our travels through France.
It is a rather funny memory, really, even though at the time it was somewhat stressful.
It was in France, this particular memory. We had departed from home the day before, and crossed three country borders when we reached the capital city around noon.
We’d just had a short night by the side of the road, after many of hours of driving, so we were all a bit tensed.
Seven people and four dogs were piled into an old converted Mercedes ambulance–turned RV–as we drove into Paris. There were no new sights to see during this particular journey. We’d seen it all before, so the major city was just one of many through which we had to pass in order to get to our destination in Southern Spain. An uncle was behind the wheel, the way he usually did whenever we traveled.
It was a busy day on the roads of Paris–the way they always seemed to be in this particular city–and somehow, while passing the Eiffel tower at a slight distance we ended up on a road without any turn offs. Now this on itself wouldn’t have been much of a problem, had it not been for the fact that we were going in the wrong direction with no sign of being able to turn of anywhere in the near future.
Now one has to know my uncle to understand our dilemma. You see, uncle was a marvelous driver for long distances, somehow when he got behind a wheel he could drive on for days without any trouble whatsoever…as long as there were no surprises on the roads he had to navigate. Now, seeing as he had taken a wrong turn due to a construction sight, and had ended up on a road he was unfamiliar with, we were pretty much stuck on it, for no other reason than the fact that when in doubt, uncle had a tendency to just press the pedal down and keep on driving, no matter what.
So, there we were, wanting to go west, while the road was heading straight north instead, and no matter what was said or done, uncle kept going that way. We pointed out narrow streets in which he could turn off, suggested that he’d make a U turn when the traffic allowed, or just stopped so that we could examine the maps, or ask for directions. Nope. He kept on driving for miles, us kids and teens giggling on the front bench and in the back, joking about how we were going to end up right where we started, right until mom came to the front of the RV and actually had to grab his shoulder for a quick shake, “ordering” him to stop the car right that instant.
At long last he did, looking a little harried as mom and he exchanged places, so she could just make a U turn and head on back the way we came and retrace our trip to the point where we’d turned off the wrong way, calm as you please.
I don’t know why this memory surfaced today, but it was funny thinking back of this event that was one of many much the same: So many travels, each of them having their own funny, scary, exciting, and horrific moments.
In that respect memories are great. What at some point was annoying, or thrilling, now is just a recollection, much like a movie would be. Something to laugh about, or reminisce over, without tensions taking a major role in them.
With this particular memory the evening is officially over and I head to my cabin with the dogs in tow, hurrying their way back inside now that the temperatures have miraculously dropped below ten degrees Celsius. This never happens around this time of year. In the past decade or so that we’ve lived here, such temperatures only arrive nearing the end of January or even February. Global warming at work, I’m thinking.
As is usually the case during winter, my fingers are stiff with cold pretty much all day long, so the first thing I do upon arriving in my quarters is plug in the heater and blissfully stand in front of it, soaking the heat radiating into the bedroom.
It takes me more than half an hour to get my stereo started, but by the time I do, I can settle down with my latest read and slouch back to allow my body to wind down. Once I feel relaxed enough, I boot up my computer and start on the day’s blog.
All things considered it was good day–or at least better then I had expected when I first woke up this morning.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Dog fight, and a weird faint spell.
A most annoying thing happened last night. And just when I was drifting off to sleep, too. It was annoying, especially since I was having a rather fanciful dream of…well that’s not suited for sharing, actually, let’s just say that I was feeling pleasantly hot just about the time I felt a heavy weight settling on my face and shoulders.
I panic a little at the hardness and force of it, flaying out my arms to protect myself against the weight, coming up against a bony butt and flanks that are continuing to apply pressure to the majority of my upper body and head.
Knight! The big lug. Apparently he found the night’s chill to be somewhat “chilling” and was doing his very best to settle on top of me, rather than beside me in order to keep warm. Barely awake, I cursed at him, colorfully, smacking at his hard flanks and in the end heaving myself up–yes, I pulled another back muscle during that particular stunt–and twist until I got him from my chest enough to be able to breathe. No easy task, I assure you. I am forced keep smacking at him until he’s off the bed entirely, lest he’d show his stubbornness entirely by continuing the action as if nothing was amiss.
He has no respect for personal space, to say the least, and just peered at me indignantly from the side of the bed when I fell back in the pillow breathing heavily. By then he, of course, hopped right back onto the bed, this time settling against me, rather than on top, thank God. I didn’t really mind, since I too had felt the chill by then and drift right back to sleep, conking out for most of the night while ensconced by wonderful body heat and blankets aplenty.
I wake to a still frightfully chilly morning. It isn’t funny, especially not when I wake up half an hour before the alarm actually goes of, thinking, “Oh the dogs are still quiet and it’s still pretty dark. I can catch a few more Zzzz.” No such luck, however. Nope, with the first twitch of my head turning towards the clock, Trin Trin bounces right off the bed and starts making her usual ruckus.
There was dream, which was short but pretty vivid. It was a sunny morning in the dream and that confused me for a bit when I woke. In dreamland I was awakened by the sound of my phone ringing, and someone from the house informing me that there was someone at the gate.
I hate it when that happens; it makes me think that I missed a day, or something. It’s just too real. But, be that as it may, even though in the dream we had visitors who saw me with creepy Einstein hair–I didn’t have time to get dressed, or comb my hair before they arrived, at least it was warm there.
But anyways, in reality I get up with a deep sigh, not looking forward to the day ahead at all, what with rain pouring down in buckets, and rivulets of water cutting their way through the path, which I’ll have to follow to get to the house.
It’s layer weather, for sure. Pants covered by a skirt, thick socks in heavy boots, and three sweaters, two of which with turtlenecks, to make an outfit, finished of by a cap on my head. I look adorable…NOT! I don’t care though. I rather be warm than fashionable, any day, hah.
So, with my bag across my heavily padded shoulders, I chase the dogs down to the courtyard…almost landing flat on my back when I step onto the muddy concrete floor just inside, and promptly loose my footing. Grabbing hold of the post in the nick of time, I suck in a deep breath and shout for the dogs to get their butts out of the rain. They’re remarkably obedient for a change, even Trin Trin who storms right in.
I’m in a strange mood. My stomach’s still upset from yesterday, but I manage to choke down some bread while cutting a couple of pounds of carrots for a good winter soup that will brew on the stove for hours before it is ready for consumption.
A delicious smell fills the house within thirty minutes, making my stomach perk up just a little in anticipation.
The dogs are restless today too, for no apparent reason other than the cold, which always makes them cranky. So the heaters are lit, and blankets are dispersed throughout the house to allow the dogs some comfort on the tile floor.
About half an hour after arrival I settle at my computer for a few hours to go through the messages and then some writing. Not much gets done, my mind just won’t settle and only one page is written.
By the time the sibs arrive, big brother and I are forced away from our computers in order to jump right into the fray of a fight between Knight and little brother’s Bharam, who for some reason don’t like each other at all.
While I make a mad grab for my Dane, and little brother comes pounding down the stairs to reach his black cross breed, Fortuyn, big brother’s brown and white Pointer decides to join in by bravely nipping at Knight’s flanks. NOT SMART!
Total chaos ensues. Dogs come rushing towards the ruckus en masse, sending Knight into a wild frenzy of snapping and snarling at anything that comes near him. I just about wrap my hand around his collar when he sets his mouth into Fortuyn’s neck, shaking him like mad when I throw my weight backwards, smacking him a solid one on the head and yank him out of the sitting area, and away from the madly barking pack gathering.
Behind me I head big brother roar something about “it being broken” and try not to imagine Fortuyn’s skin being torn from his back, or some such, as I literally shove Knight into the pantry to cool down, and turn back to wearily look at the damage.
Fortuyn is hiding under a chair but is otherwise unharmed. Big brother, on the other hand is fretting over his pet-computer, swearing under his breath at the two Cocker Spaniels who’d decided to take a short cut across the table, dancing right on top of his computer screen and bending the frame enough not to allow the lid to be closed.
Though the damage is pretty ugly, the computer still functions, including the screen, so I exclaim a sigh of relief and join big brother at the table to see if we can do some damage control at least.
Around us the dogs are quiet once again, obviously sensing that the “pissed off” level among the humans is huge enough for them to take refuge into silence.
Rare fights among the pack always cause a certain burst of adrenaline, and today is no exception. We find that after this little fiasco neither of us can find the focus necessary for writing and carefully set our computers away to get some other work done instead.
The carrot soup has boiled enough to be finished with herbs, yogurt, cottage cheese and spices, before the blender purees it all together in a tasteful mix that’ll go a long way in sustaining us through dinner.
Next, while younger sister is cleaning the courtyard, I take out a batch of laundry to hang, even though it won’t be much use if the weather keeps up. Sis and I talk a bit while we’re both working in the chilling cold, Knight watching us somewhat warily, fully aware that he’s still in the proverbial dog house and for once not making a nuisance of himself during this particular chore.
Not at all hungry by then, I decide to postpone dinner for a bit as I start to lug in the newly built and painted drawers for the kitchen into the house, because big brother and I decided to fit them, now that writing isn’t working. After some fitting, we find that one dividing wall of one of the drawer cases has been placed wrong during construction, so after unscrewing the barrier and shifting if a couple of mm we begin the meticulous measuring and fitting.
After about an hour of slow progress, I decide to take a cup of soup with bread, and though it tastes well, my stomach revolts almost the moment I get it all down. Using a breathing technique I’ve acquired over the past few years, I do manage to keep it down as we continue on, hanging two drawers in total until it hits me right in the head. No, not the drawer…but a woozy feeling that sneaks up on me with a slight tremor in all my limbs.
Getting up from my knees, from where I’ve been carefully fastening one of the heavy gliders into the case, I can barely remain standing–let alone screw the last few screws in. Blinking against the black spots in my vision, I mutter something vague to big brother who takes the task from me, and watches with a worried frown as I am forced to sit down on the floor, fighting the symptoms I am then recognizing as the same ones I once had when I passed out.
Promptly I lower my head between my shaky knees, breathing in deeply until some of the weakness, and spots fade, and I feel well enough to squirt a liberal amount of honey into my mouth.
I let it seep on my tongue for a bit, my vision slowly clearing. I don’t know what the heck it is that just came over me, but it almost feels like a bug, or something.
But anyways, we manage to get all three drawers hung, allowing big and little brother to carry the entire contraption out again as I set to the task of treating the last two drawers with their final layer of paint. It gets done with reasonable speed, while a movie plays on the TV, keeping me pleasantly distracted.
After setting the paint materials away, along with the wet drawers, and cleaning my hands with turpentine and soap, the evening has progressed considerably, and we’re up for a break.
I’m still shaky by the time the sibs and I sit down to watch the recorded episode of Dexter, fully enjoying it even though it’s in German, and manage to choke down another cup of soup.
I pretty much slouch at the table most of the remaining evening, until at long last it’s time to withdraw to my quarters.
We had planned to do a bit more writing before the night was through, but we figure, what with our lagging levels of energy, we’ll call it an early night and head for our personal spaces for the last remaining hours of our days.
Upon arriving in my cabin–the rain stopped, but it’s still cold–I am shocked to find that some dog has managed to break in again, spreading another cushion’s contents all over the floor and requiring at least an hour of cleaning up from me, before finally I plunk down on the bed with a much deserved cigarette and a fifteen minute read to settle my turmoil mind. It doesn’t work.
Though the day started well enough, my mood is abysmal by the time I wind down, more than a little frustrated with the fritzing stereo that takes even longer than usual to get going. Damn thing. I’m going to toss it out one of these days and get a new one. This simply won’t do.
But, in the end I do manage to get it going again, and find my mind calming down at least a fraction as the calming music fills my head. An occasional house call with big brother in his room, earns us some new ideas for the latest writing project, which at the very least allows my mind to wander into different areas than just the “feeling miserable” thoughts that keep tumbling through my mind.
By the time I get online to chat on the forums I feel well enough to start on today’s blog.
I would like to say that today was a good day, but except for the fact that things got done…it really wasn’t.
I panic a little at the hardness and force of it, flaying out my arms to protect myself against the weight, coming up against a bony butt and flanks that are continuing to apply pressure to the majority of my upper body and head.
Knight! The big lug. Apparently he found the night’s chill to be somewhat “chilling” and was doing his very best to settle on top of me, rather than beside me in order to keep warm. Barely awake, I cursed at him, colorfully, smacking at his hard flanks and in the end heaving myself up–yes, I pulled another back muscle during that particular stunt–and twist until I got him from my chest enough to be able to breathe. No easy task, I assure you. I am forced keep smacking at him until he’s off the bed entirely, lest he’d show his stubbornness entirely by continuing the action as if nothing was amiss.
He has no respect for personal space, to say the least, and just peered at me indignantly from the side of the bed when I fell back in the pillow breathing heavily. By then he, of course, hopped right back onto the bed, this time settling against me, rather than on top, thank God. I didn’t really mind, since I too had felt the chill by then and drift right back to sleep, conking out for most of the night while ensconced by wonderful body heat and blankets aplenty.
I wake to a still frightfully chilly morning. It isn’t funny, especially not when I wake up half an hour before the alarm actually goes of, thinking, “Oh the dogs are still quiet and it’s still pretty dark. I can catch a few more Zzzz.” No such luck, however. Nope, with the first twitch of my head turning towards the clock, Trin Trin bounces right off the bed and starts making her usual ruckus.
There was dream, which was short but pretty vivid. It was a sunny morning in the dream and that confused me for a bit when I woke. In dreamland I was awakened by the sound of my phone ringing, and someone from the house informing me that there was someone at the gate.
I hate it when that happens; it makes me think that I missed a day, or something. It’s just too real. But, be that as it may, even though in the dream we had visitors who saw me with creepy Einstein hair–I didn’t have time to get dressed, or comb my hair before they arrived, at least it was warm there.
But anyways, in reality I get up with a deep sigh, not looking forward to the day ahead at all, what with rain pouring down in buckets, and rivulets of water cutting their way through the path, which I’ll have to follow to get to the house.
It’s layer weather, for sure. Pants covered by a skirt, thick socks in heavy boots, and three sweaters, two of which with turtlenecks, to make an outfit, finished of by a cap on my head. I look adorable…NOT! I don’t care though. I rather be warm than fashionable, any day, hah.
So, with my bag across my heavily padded shoulders, I chase the dogs down to the courtyard…almost landing flat on my back when I step onto the muddy concrete floor just inside, and promptly loose my footing. Grabbing hold of the post in the nick of time, I suck in a deep breath and shout for the dogs to get their butts out of the rain. They’re remarkably obedient for a change, even Trin Trin who storms right in.
I’m in a strange mood. My stomach’s still upset from yesterday, but I manage to choke down some bread while cutting a couple of pounds of carrots for a good winter soup that will brew on the stove for hours before it is ready for consumption.
A delicious smell fills the house within thirty minutes, making my stomach perk up just a little in anticipation.
The dogs are restless today too, for no apparent reason other than the cold, which always makes them cranky. So the heaters are lit, and blankets are dispersed throughout the house to allow the dogs some comfort on the tile floor.
About half an hour after arrival I settle at my computer for a few hours to go through the messages and then some writing. Not much gets done, my mind just won’t settle and only one page is written.
By the time the sibs arrive, big brother and I are forced away from our computers in order to jump right into the fray of a fight between Knight and little brother’s Bharam, who for some reason don’t like each other at all.
While I make a mad grab for my Dane, and little brother comes pounding down the stairs to reach his black cross breed, Fortuyn, big brother’s brown and white Pointer decides to join in by bravely nipping at Knight’s flanks. NOT SMART!
Total chaos ensues. Dogs come rushing towards the ruckus en masse, sending Knight into a wild frenzy of snapping and snarling at anything that comes near him. I just about wrap my hand around his collar when he sets his mouth into Fortuyn’s neck, shaking him like mad when I throw my weight backwards, smacking him a solid one on the head and yank him out of the sitting area, and away from the madly barking pack gathering.
Behind me I head big brother roar something about “it being broken” and try not to imagine Fortuyn’s skin being torn from his back, or some such, as I literally shove Knight into the pantry to cool down, and turn back to wearily look at the damage.
Fortuyn is hiding under a chair but is otherwise unharmed. Big brother, on the other hand is fretting over his pet-computer, swearing under his breath at the two Cocker Spaniels who’d decided to take a short cut across the table, dancing right on top of his computer screen and bending the frame enough not to allow the lid to be closed.
Though the damage is pretty ugly, the computer still functions, including the screen, so I exclaim a sigh of relief and join big brother at the table to see if we can do some damage control at least.
Around us the dogs are quiet once again, obviously sensing that the “pissed off” level among the humans is huge enough for them to take refuge into silence.
Rare fights among the pack always cause a certain burst of adrenaline, and today is no exception. We find that after this little fiasco neither of us can find the focus necessary for writing and carefully set our computers away to get some other work done instead.
The carrot soup has boiled enough to be finished with herbs, yogurt, cottage cheese and spices, before the blender purees it all together in a tasteful mix that’ll go a long way in sustaining us through dinner.
Next, while younger sister is cleaning the courtyard, I take out a batch of laundry to hang, even though it won’t be much use if the weather keeps up. Sis and I talk a bit while we’re both working in the chilling cold, Knight watching us somewhat warily, fully aware that he’s still in the proverbial dog house and for once not making a nuisance of himself during this particular chore.
Not at all hungry by then, I decide to postpone dinner for a bit as I start to lug in the newly built and painted drawers for the kitchen into the house, because big brother and I decided to fit them, now that writing isn’t working. After some fitting, we find that one dividing wall of one of the drawer cases has been placed wrong during construction, so after unscrewing the barrier and shifting if a couple of mm we begin the meticulous measuring and fitting.
After about an hour of slow progress, I decide to take a cup of soup with bread, and though it tastes well, my stomach revolts almost the moment I get it all down. Using a breathing technique I’ve acquired over the past few years, I do manage to keep it down as we continue on, hanging two drawers in total until it hits me right in the head. No, not the drawer…but a woozy feeling that sneaks up on me with a slight tremor in all my limbs.
Getting up from my knees, from where I’ve been carefully fastening one of the heavy gliders into the case, I can barely remain standing–let alone screw the last few screws in. Blinking against the black spots in my vision, I mutter something vague to big brother who takes the task from me, and watches with a worried frown as I am forced to sit down on the floor, fighting the symptoms I am then recognizing as the same ones I once had when I passed out.
Promptly I lower my head between my shaky knees, breathing in deeply until some of the weakness, and spots fade, and I feel well enough to squirt a liberal amount of honey into my mouth.
I let it seep on my tongue for a bit, my vision slowly clearing. I don’t know what the heck it is that just came over me, but it almost feels like a bug, or something.
But anyways, we manage to get all three drawers hung, allowing big and little brother to carry the entire contraption out again as I set to the task of treating the last two drawers with their final layer of paint. It gets done with reasonable speed, while a movie plays on the TV, keeping me pleasantly distracted.
After setting the paint materials away, along with the wet drawers, and cleaning my hands with turpentine and soap, the evening has progressed considerably, and we’re up for a break.
I’m still shaky by the time the sibs and I sit down to watch the recorded episode of Dexter, fully enjoying it even though it’s in German, and manage to choke down another cup of soup.
I pretty much slouch at the table most of the remaining evening, until at long last it’s time to withdraw to my quarters.
We had planned to do a bit more writing before the night was through, but we figure, what with our lagging levels of energy, we’ll call it an early night and head for our personal spaces for the last remaining hours of our days.
Upon arriving in my cabin–the rain stopped, but it’s still cold–I am shocked to find that some dog has managed to break in again, spreading another cushion’s contents all over the floor and requiring at least an hour of cleaning up from me, before finally I plunk down on the bed with a much deserved cigarette and a fifteen minute read to settle my turmoil mind. It doesn’t work.
Though the day started well enough, my mood is abysmal by the time I wind down, more than a little frustrated with the fritzing stereo that takes even longer than usual to get going. Damn thing. I’m going to toss it out one of these days and get a new one. This simply won’t do.
But, in the end I do manage to get it going again, and find my mind calming down at least a fraction as the calming music fills my head. An occasional house call with big brother in his room, earns us some new ideas for the latest writing project, which at the very least allows my mind to wander into different areas than just the “feeling miserable” thoughts that keep tumbling through my mind.
By the time I get online to chat on the forums I feel well enough to start on today’s blog.
I would like to say that today was a good day, but except for the fact that things got done…it really wasn’t.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Arctic winds.
I wake up from a vivid dream that is going to be an absolute perfect setting for the next vampire short story that’s a fact. It was in the Bayou, honeyed speech, dark nights, and creepy creatures all ‘round. Perfect! I’m determined to write it down the moment I get down to the house, so I hurry through the morning rituals because I know I won’t have time for much of anything before we need to get ready for the day’s schedule.
Heading to the house isn’t a pleasure today, though. It doesn’t matter that the sun is shining brightly when an icy wind blows mightily down the mountain. According to the weather reports it comes straight from the Arctic, literally chilling me to the bone as I lug my bag down and try to tone the dogs a bit so they won’t bowl right over me.
My hands are literally numb by the time I enter the house and stand in front of the heater big brother has already lit, in order to seep some heat into my bones.
The night wasn’t any better either. I’ve slept under three blankets, dogs piled around and on top of me, with only my nose exposed to the air and still I wasn’t warm enough to stand those fifty yards to the house without ending up feeling frozen.
There’s too little time for me to do the laundry today, but what with the chill working so “marvelously” on my limbs, I don’t particularly mind. My stomach’s upset too, so I only some cereal with yogurt in hopes that it’ll stay down well enough.
It does, just barely, so with a hot drink between my hands I switch on the computer and go over the day’s messages.
With big brother opposite of me, babbling about…I can’t really say what since by that time I am writing down my idea for the new vamp story, which is to be our next project. Getting the beginning just write is always a must for me, if I have the scene set, so to speak, the rest will come with little effort most of the time.
While I chuckle and grin in a silly fashion, I shush curious big brother on occasion, urging him to be patient as I write down the images I remember so clearly from the dream, for him to read, just as soon as the first scene’s finished.
He LIKES! Which is an author’s greatest pleasure for sure. It’s rough, it’s filled with little inconsistencies, but no matter, the first page is here and with it the rest of the story is bound to follow soon enough.
All around us the dogs are piled in front of the single heater that’s on, what with only one gas keg left to use. Like me they don’t appreciate the cold at all, and is noticeable when Ahmbah, one of our older, frailer and almost blind cockers comes up behind me seriously wanting to get on the seat behind me. He’ll squeeze himself between my back and the chair if I let him, just to be warm. Instead I pile my long woolen vest on the table and deposit him there, barely pausing in the frantic write.
I’m most annoyed by the time the sibs come down, announcing our departure now that everyone is up and the dogs have human company for when we’re gone for the afternoon.
Quickly I head to my cabin, this time leaving the dogs in the house, and change into something descent, before heading out to the car where five fully-grown adults squeeze into the truck cab and start on our way to the village.
The Vet’s is our first stop. Clue’s bill needs to be paid and with a bit of dread in our stomach’s we head inside to receive it. We’ve been warned about the bill going well into the hundreds of Euros. Somewhere around three or so the younger vet had mused on the day we got Clue to take him home, but much to our surprise a bill well below two hundred faces us. The regular vet had promised to give us a discount due to the fact that he had found the case so interesting, but this was a lot more discount than we’d anticipated. I wonder if a mistake was made, but until we hear something, I’m going to cheer our good fortune on that matter.
Next, a new supply of butane gas needs to be bought, and full ones soon replace four empty kegs in the truck-bed, before we head for town instead. Our first stop there is the telephone shop, where, upon arrival we realize that big brother has forgotten the necessary forms to get the new phone.
A quick call to the house sets that straight, though, as he gets the numbers we need…after the second try…and the real hassle starts.
For some reason the saleswoman is unable to get things working–I think she’s new–and it takes us a good hour before we finally leave with the new phone packed and bagged. We’re about to drive off, too, when suddenly the new phone rings. Somewhat taken aback by this–what with no one knowing the number–I answer the call; only to hear the saleswoman ask, very apologetically, if we could possibly return, because she forgot to activate the thing for outgoing calls. Go figure! It is only because she was nice about it, and somewhat embarrassed that we aren’t annoyed when we finally head further into town.
Tonight is our study night, and even though I’m not looking forward to it with my iffy nerves jumping around in my stomach, it goes well enough. It’s a quiet evening in the computer room, only three other students, quietly working at their computer while we dig in for an hour of tests.
I’m pretty pleased when by the end of the hour we’ve covered six of the tests, two flawlessly and the others with an average of two errors. Passed…at least we would have if these questions were to come up in the exams looming somewhere in the near future. Hah.
That done, we can go back home, much to our relief: In town the temperatures were low too, but still when we get out of the car icy winds tug at us, once more, making me hurry through getting out of my neat close and into the casual ones, before I hurry to the house and the ecstatic dogs.
As is their habit, I am physically assaulted by my personal pack of nine, what with Knight II locked in the pantry with Trin Trin, as I take a few minutes to dodge Mosha’s happy teeth–she likes to grab my wrists in her enthusiasm–Sitabah and the Labs jumping all around me, and Chaos throwing his considerable weight against me. He perches up on his hind legs and stabs his snout into my stomach while I try to keep my balance under the eighty pounds of his huge body.
When they finally calm down, and I’m working on putting some extra veggie toppings on a Margarita pizza from the freezer, Knight II and Trin Trin are released. Another bout of evading the enthusiasts ensues, but it’s doable, what with there being only two of them now.
Thirty minutes later, with the pizza divided between mom, and me, I settle into a seat and have my dinner while keeping an eager Knight at bay with my foot. I’ve got to say one thing for the Dane; he is nothing if not persistent. No matter how often I push him back from slobbering all over my dinner, he’ll keep trying time and again until at last nothing is left for him to take.
I know the meal’s not going to stay put once I’m done–my stomach’s rolling even more by now–but I valiantly try, sitting very quietly throughout another rented DVD. Edward Norton as the Hulk this time.
We’re disappointed by it, really, finding it a poor substitute for the Ang Lee version a few years back, even though that one wasn’t brilliant by any means. Norton played it well enough, but the special effects were a little…I don’t know, less pretty I guess. The previous Hulk moved with a certain grace, while this one appears unrealistic, and ugly, no matter how silly that sounds.
William Hurt’s General Ross isn’t as grand as Sam Elliot–who played the grumpy military officer marvelously–nor did Liv Tyler do justice to the role of Betty. She’s a great actress, but there was definitely something lacking here. A pity really.
But who knows, perhaps yesterday’s screamy/headbangy/ichy feeling is still lingering a bit, not allowing for much pleasure when watching TV. Lord knows nothing seems to be able to hold my attention for long these days.
The stomach’s still upset by the time credits roll over the screen and by then it becomes painfully clear that it’s all for naught. I hurry for the bathroom to hug the porcelain bowl for a bit.
Being pretty used to the entire procedure, I feel empty in the stomach afterwards, but not necessarily worse when I settle behind my computer with a cup of tea and a glass of water, to resume this morning’s writing.
Not much of the actual story gets written, what with big brother, and me brainstorming about locations, settings and names that will be necessary for the story. Louisiana we’re thinking. The vampire born and raised in that area while the heroine comes from the north, NY probably. Dates are discussed, and details jotted down until at last midnight passes and the day has come to an end.
Plans that had been made for today, were only partially covered, but I suppose that tomorrow’s another day for such things as cleaning the parrot cage, hanging some more kitchen drawers and of course the laundry. Heck, I might even be able to squeeze in an exercise session. Hah.
By the time I get to my room, feed the dogs that are always quite hungry in the winter months, and settle down with a packet of salty crackers, I’m yawning constantly…as expected bedtime last night was late again, bringing me close to dawn by the time I finally crawled under a pile of blankets and dogs.
I’ll be doing the same tonight that’s a fact. I can barely feel my fingers and toes, something for which warm canine bodies are excellent heaters. This is definitely an advantage when being in the company of so many dogs. They’ll crawl forever closer when the temperatures drop, and today I can hardly wait for that to happen!
Heading to the house isn’t a pleasure today, though. It doesn’t matter that the sun is shining brightly when an icy wind blows mightily down the mountain. According to the weather reports it comes straight from the Arctic, literally chilling me to the bone as I lug my bag down and try to tone the dogs a bit so they won’t bowl right over me.
My hands are literally numb by the time I enter the house and stand in front of the heater big brother has already lit, in order to seep some heat into my bones.
The night wasn’t any better either. I’ve slept under three blankets, dogs piled around and on top of me, with only my nose exposed to the air and still I wasn’t warm enough to stand those fifty yards to the house without ending up feeling frozen.
There’s too little time for me to do the laundry today, but what with the chill working so “marvelously” on my limbs, I don’t particularly mind. My stomach’s upset too, so I only some cereal with yogurt in hopes that it’ll stay down well enough.
It does, just barely, so with a hot drink between my hands I switch on the computer and go over the day’s messages.
With big brother opposite of me, babbling about…I can’t really say what since by that time I am writing down my idea for the new vamp story, which is to be our next project. Getting the beginning just write is always a must for me, if I have the scene set, so to speak, the rest will come with little effort most of the time.
While I chuckle and grin in a silly fashion, I shush curious big brother on occasion, urging him to be patient as I write down the images I remember so clearly from the dream, for him to read, just as soon as the first scene’s finished.
He LIKES! Which is an author’s greatest pleasure for sure. It’s rough, it’s filled with little inconsistencies, but no matter, the first page is here and with it the rest of the story is bound to follow soon enough.
All around us the dogs are piled in front of the single heater that’s on, what with only one gas keg left to use. Like me they don’t appreciate the cold at all, and is noticeable when Ahmbah, one of our older, frailer and almost blind cockers comes up behind me seriously wanting to get on the seat behind me. He’ll squeeze himself between my back and the chair if I let him, just to be warm. Instead I pile my long woolen vest on the table and deposit him there, barely pausing in the frantic write.
I’m most annoyed by the time the sibs come down, announcing our departure now that everyone is up and the dogs have human company for when we’re gone for the afternoon.
Quickly I head to my cabin, this time leaving the dogs in the house, and change into something descent, before heading out to the car where five fully-grown adults squeeze into the truck cab and start on our way to the village.
The Vet’s is our first stop. Clue’s bill needs to be paid and with a bit of dread in our stomach’s we head inside to receive it. We’ve been warned about the bill going well into the hundreds of Euros. Somewhere around three or so the younger vet had mused on the day we got Clue to take him home, but much to our surprise a bill well below two hundred faces us. The regular vet had promised to give us a discount due to the fact that he had found the case so interesting, but this was a lot more discount than we’d anticipated. I wonder if a mistake was made, but until we hear something, I’m going to cheer our good fortune on that matter.
Next, a new supply of butane gas needs to be bought, and full ones soon replace four empty kegs in the truck-bed, before we head for town instead. Our first stop there is the telephone shop, where, upon arrival we realize that big brother has forgotten the necessary forms to get the new phone.
A quick call to the house sets that straight, though, as he gets the numbers we need…after the second try…and the real hassle starts.
For some reason the saleswoman is unable to get things working–I think she’s new–and it takes us a good hour before we finally leave with the new phone packed and bagged. We’re about to drive off, too, when suddenly the new phone rings. Somewhat taken aback by this–what with no one knowing the number–I answer the call; only to hear the saleswoman ask, very apologetically, if we could possibly return, because she forgot to activate the thing for outgoing calls. Go figure! It is only because she was nice about it, and somewhat embarrassed that we aren’t annoyed when we finally head further into town.
Tonight is our study night, and even though I’m not looking forward to it with my iffy nerves jumping around in my stomach, it goes well enough. It’s a quiet evening in the computer room, only three other students, quietly working at their computer while we dig in for an hour of tests.
I’m pretty pleased when by the end of the hour we’ve covered six of the tests, two flawlessly and the others with an average of two errors. Passed…at least we would have if these questions were to come up in the exams looming somewhere in the near future. Hah.
That done, we can go back home, much to our relief: In town the temperatures were low too, but still when we get out of the car icy winds tug at us, once more, making me hurry through getting out of my neat close and into the casual ones, before I hurry to the house and the ecstatic dogs.
As is their habit, I am physically assaulted by my personal pack of nine, what with Knight II locked in the pantry with Trin Trin, as I take a few minutes to dodge Mosha’s happy teeth–she likes to grab my wrists in her enthusiasm–Sitabah and the Labs jumping all around me, and Chaos throwing his considerable weight against me. He perches up on his hind legs and stabs his snout into my stomach while I try to keep my balance under the eighty pounds of his huge body.
When they finally calm down, and I’m working on putting some extra veggie toppings on a Margarita pizza from the freezer, Knight II and Trin Trin are released. Another bout of evading the enthusiasts ensues, but it’s doable, what with there being only two of them now.
Thirty minutes later, with the pizza divided between mom, and me, I settle into a seat and have my dinner while keeping an eager Knight at bay with my foot. I’ve got to say one thing for the Dane; he is nothing if not persistent. No matter how often I push him back from slobbering all over my dinner, he’ll keep trying time and again until at last nothing is left for him to take.
I know the meal’s not going to stay put once I’m done–my stomach’s rolling even more by now–but I valiantly try, sitting very quietly throughout another rented DVD. Edward Norton as the Hulk this time.
We’re disappointed by it, really, finding it a poor substitute for the Ang Lee version a few years back, even though that one wasn’t brilliant by any means. Norton played it well enough, but the special effects were a little…I don’t know, less pretty I guess. The previous Hulk moved with a certain grace, while this one appears unrealistic, and ugly, no matter how silly that sounds.
William Hurt’s General Ross isn’t as grand as Sam Elliot–who played the grumpy military officer marvelously–nor did Liv Tyler do justice to the role of Betty. She’s a great actress, but there was definitely something lacking here. A pity really.
But who knows, perhaps yesterday’s screamy/headbangy/ichy feeling is still lingering a bit, not allowing for much pleasure when watching TV. Lord knows nothing seems to be able to hold my attention for long these days.
The stomach’s still upset by the time credits roll over the screen and by then it becomes painfully clear that it’s all for naught. I hurry for the bathroom to hug the porcelain bowl for a bit.
Being pretty used to the entire procedure, I feel empty in the stomach afterwards, but not necessarily worse when I settle behind my computer with a cup of tea and a glass of water, to resume this morning’s writing.
Not much of the actual story gets written, what with big brother, and me brainstorming about locations, settings and names that will be necessary for the story. Louisiana we’re thinking. The vampire born and raised in that area while the heroine comes from the north, NY probably. Dates are discussed, and details jotted down until at last midnight passes and the day has come to an end.
Plans that had been made for today, were only partially covered, but I suppose that tomorrow’s another day for such things as cleaning the parrot cage, hanging some more kitchen drawers and of course the laundry. Heck, I might even be able to squeeze in an exercise session. Hah.
By the time I get to my room, feed the dogs that are always quite hungry in the winter months, and settle down with a packet of salty crackers, I’m yawning constantly…as expected bedtime last night was late again, bringing me close to dawn by the time I finally crawled under a pile of blankets and dogs.
I’ll be doing the same tonight that’s a fact. I can barely feel my fingers and toes, something for which warm canine bodies are excellent heaters. This is definitely an advantage when being in the company of so many dogs. They’ll crawl forever closer when the temperatures drop, and today I can hardly wait for that to happen!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Screamy/headbangy/ichy feeling
Got to bed too late again no matter how hard I tried getting there in time. It is peculiar to say the least: Here I was, five O’clock in the morning, all done; teeth brushed, pjs on, everything that needed to be done, done and yet I didn’t get to sleep until six thirty for some unfathomable reason.
I can’t understand it, but every time I try to get to bed early, I find I need to do this, and that and that, until I find the clock having speeded up somehow, twisting the laws of reality.
I feel weird right now, as if the world has gone topsy-turvy somehow. Nothing appears to make sense. I can’t focus. There seems to be a constant buzz in my head that makes my focus swirl out into all directions, giving everything a non-realistic sort of essence. Like I’m not really here, or that my surroundings aren’t, or that I’m still dreaming. Yes, It feels exactly like that: Fragments that make no sense whatsoever. A nightmare, dammit. Sounds are too loud, yet almost inaudible or incomprehensible. Colors too bright, yet I need to squint to see. Out of focus, it seems to be the state of my world tonight.
What on earth is going on, I wonder. It’s like I’m on the brink of waking up…and all things considered I really hope I do…fast. It’s one of those days on which I don’t know whether to cry, laugh hysterically, scream or bang my head against the wall. I can’t explain it, really. It’s just…weird.
I better get back to the day before I smash my computer from sheer insanity or maybe toss it on the floor, just to see how it feels to stamp it a little.
Where was I? Right, waking up. So anyways, I go to house, do my usual thing and then get to work on the manuscript for a final check. I’m still supposed to write the query letter, which is impossible to do since reading through the last pages again, just to make sure, takes more time than was the plan.
We’re happy with the end result at the end of two read-out-loud hours, deciding that the latest work might very well be a Literary Orgasm. Hah.
Around five we have to head out. It’s grocery day, so what lies ahead is going from one shop to the next, piling everything into the cart, then move it to the car and then into the house.
First stop, the telephone store. We’ve acquired quite a few points on our contract and we need to get a new phone. Regretfully we forget the actual phone on which we need to send and receive a message in order to buy another phone on points, and that just when we’ve managed to remember everything else we had to bring along. It will have to be done tomorrow.
Next stop; the Chinese store. It is a big chain that has places all over town, offering bargain prices for pretty much anything. Two new laundry baskets, a handful of underwear, kitchen utensils, scented oils, incense, and other necessities later, we are standing in front of the cash register where this tiny Chinese girl is tallying up the total. Suddenly we notice her face getting red and tears are pooling in her eyes.
She bravely continues her task, not looking at us and obviously at the verge of a complete breakdown from…whatever it is that’s bothering her. Her brother, or husband, arrives, and speaks to her in harsh tones while we try to pretend that we don’t notice her obviously shaky equilibrium. It is a rather sad sight, really, but what can you do as a first time customer?
I don’t know what the guy says to her–they are talking Chinese of course–but it doesn’t have the best effect on her. Her head goes down another notch, tears now actually streaming down her cheeks, while she still continues to gather our purchases, putting them in bag but now with the guy looking over her shoulder and hissing at her. By the time she has everything bagged she practically flees from the front of the store, disappearing from sight. The guy calls something after her, his tone not particularly friendly or comforting, after which we are exchanging “what the he…” glances and pay for our stuff.
The scene is the main subject of conversation while we head deeper into town. The first supermarket gets hit then. A few supplies that only this store offers, and forty bucks lighter, along with a rented DVD from the store beside it, we return to the car for the next store.
The Miramar center’s, Iceland. Some extras are necessary for the next two weeks or so, that are best bought at bargain prices.
Fifth stop is Miramar shopping center, just a mile down the road, where little sister and I make a quick trip to the pet store. We need Chinchilla sand, turtle food, and food with nutritional supplements for our parrot. It is a matter of running in and out, really.
At long last the biggest chore of the day has arrived. The supermarket! With the three of us, big brother, little sister and I take out two carts and start piling the necessary groceries for the next two weeks into them. It is quite a bit, every time, but in the end we get it all done and finally head on home.
First things first: Unpacking. It takes a good hour to get everything from the car to the house and into the cabinets, the fridge and drawers. We’re all pretty much finished, both mentally and physically by then, but a meal needs to be made–by yours truly– after which I settle down behind the computer and start writing my query letter.
I’m amazed I actually manage it. In particular since the screamy/headbangy/ichy feeling is slowly rising to the fore by now.
Indiana Jones part four is playing on the DVD while I’m at it, but since the story is unable to hold my attention I write down the necessities and then send out the manuscript towards the appropriate publisher and keep my fingers crossed.
Sure, it’s good, but you never know what an editor is going to think. It is a nerve-wrecking and nail-biting part of any author’s life, really, the waiting, the interminable waiting, the endless waiting, which in many cases ends with a “no response” or a standard “no this story won’t fit in our current list” or some such line.
So wait I shall. No other choice really. With my nerves jumping I switch the computer to standby and decide to attempt focusing on the movie instead. Impossible! It appears to be a jumbled, grab all cliché’s, badly cut, directed and written film that I hope I didn’t interpret right due to my mood. Seriously, I haven’t felt inclined to shut a movie off since…well, in years, but for a moment there I was seriously tempted.
There seemed to be entire scenes missing, and for the sake of this movie I truly hope that this was due to my state of mind rather than the actual quality.
It seemed like a friggin’ kiddy movie, and a bad one at that. Scenes slabbed in there to make it funny when it wasn’t, action sequences that were so totally out there in the realm of fiction that for a moment I was actually baffled.
I don’t remember the last Indiana Jones’ being that bad. The Temple Doom certainly wasn’t the best in the row but this one…Ouch.
The idea was marvelous, and it could have been a totally awesome movie if some lunatic hadn’t hacked out any and all scenes that would have made it all make sense (or at least that’s what I think happened) it just didn’t…make sense that is, none of it, and like I said, I truly hope it was my mind that made it so.
Considering that I can’t follow either Dead Like Me, or Frasier either, I’m thinking that it’s the screamy/headbangy/ichy thing messing with my head, so I try to wipe my frustration about the movie aside and focus on other more important things: Such as heading towards my cabin.
What with my equilibrium not working well at all, neither mentally nor physically I am careful heading up the mountain, my dogs enthusiastically leading the way while I just barely manage keep myself from falling flat on my face, right before reaching my porch. Bommel and Sitabah are having their usual tussle right in the center of the path, almost knocking me over.
I hiss my disapproval at them–not being my most literate self at the moment–hoisting the computer bag that seems to become heavier every day, back across my chest, and throw the door open to let the dogs burst inside.
The first thing I do, after lighting the lamps, is try to get my stereo to work. What with the increasing cold it won’t run at the press of a button, but needs to be restarted time and again. I am starting to get seriously frustrated by the time the dogs are fed and I have cleared away the three bags with shopping supplies. The silence is allowing my mind to start thinking, which at this point could very well be disastrous. So, while I start singing Katie Melua’s “Just Like Heaven” just to fill the voice, I give the dratted machine a firm smack on the face and am pleased to find it functioning two minutes later.
With BA belting about “The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me” (Is You) I release a relieved sigh and settle in for the night.
I can’t understand it, but every time I try to get to bed early, I find I need to do this, and that and that, until I find the clock having speeded up somehow, twisting the laws of reality.
I feel weird right now, as if the world has gone topsy-turvy somehow. Nothing appears to make sense. I can’t focus. There seems to be a constant buzz in my head that makes my focus swirl out into all directions, giving everything a non-realistic sort of essence. Like I’m not really here, or that my surroundings aren’t, or that I’m still dreaming. Yes, It feels exactly like that: Fragments that make no sense whatsoever. A nightmare, dammit. Sounds are too loud, yet almost inaudible or incomprehensible. Colors too bright, yet I need to squint to see. Out of focus, it seems to be the state of my world tonight.
What on earth is going on, I wonder. It’s like I’m on the brink of waking up…and all things considered I really hope I do…fast. It’s one of those days on which I don’t know whether to cry, laugh hysterically, scream or bang my head against the wall. I can’t explain it, really. It’s just…weird.
I better get back to the day before I smash my computer from sheer insanity or maybe toss it on the floor, just to see how it feels to stamp it a little.
Where was I? Right, waking up. So anyways, I go to house, do my usual thing and then get to work on the manuscript for a final check. I’m still supposed to write the query letter, which is impossible to do since reading through the last pages again, just to make sure, takes more time than was the plan.
We’re happy with the end result at the end of two read-out-loud hours, deciding that the latest work might very well be a Literary Orgasm. Hah.
Around five we have to head out. It’s grocery day, so what lies ahead is going from one shop to the next, piling everything into the cart, then move it to the car and then into the house.
First stop, the telephone store. We’ve acquired quite a few points on our contract and we need to get a new phone. Regretfully we forget the actual phone on which we need to send and receive a message in order to buy another phone on points, and that just when we’ve managed to remember everything else we had to bring along. It will have to be done tomorrow.
Next stop; the Chinese store. It is a big chain that has places all over town, offering bargain prices for pretty much anything. Two new laundry baskets, a handful of underwear, kitchen utensils, scented oils, incense, and other necessities later, we are standing in front of the cash register where this tiny Chinese girl is tallying up the total. Suddenly we notice her face getting red and tears are pooling in her eyes.
She bravely continues her task, not looking at us and obviously at the verge of a complete breakdown from…whatever it is that’s bothering her. Her brother, or husband, arrives, and speaks to her in harsh tones while we try to pretend that we don’t notice her obviously shaky equilibrium. It is a rather sad sight, really, but what can you do as a first time customer?
I don’t know what the guy says to her–they are talking Chinese of course–but it doesn’t have the best effect on her. Her head goes down another notch, tears now actually streaming down her cheeks, while she still continues to gather our purchases, putting them in bag but now with the guy looking over her shoulder and hissing at her. By the time she has everything bagged she practically flees from the front of the store, disappearing from sight. The guy calls something after her, his tone not particularly friendly or comforting, after which we are exchanging “what the he…” glances and pay for our stuff.
The scene is the main subject of conversation while we head deeper into town. The first supermarket gets hit then. A few supplies that only this store offers, and forty bucks lighter, along with a rented DVD from the store beside it, we return to the car for the next store.
The Miramar center’s, Iceland. Some extras are necessary for the next two weeks or so, that are best bought at bargain prices.
Fifth stop is Miramar shopping center, just a mile down the road, where little sister and I make a quick trip to the pet store. We need Chinchilla sand, turtle food, and food with nutritional supplements for our parrot. It is a matter of running in and out, really.
At long last the biggest chore of the day has arrived. The supermarket! With the three of us, big brother, little sister and I take out two carts and start piling the necessary groceries for the next two weeks into them. It is quite a bit, every time, but in the end we get it all done and finally head on home.
First things first: Unpacking. It takes a good hour to get everything from the car to the house and into the cabinets, the fridge and drawers. We’re all pretty much finished, both mentally and physically by then, but a meal needs to be made–by yours truly– after which I settle down behind the computer and start writing my query letter.
I’m amazed I actually manage it. In particular since the screamy/headbangy/ichy feeling is slowly rising to the fore by now.
Indiana Jones part four is playing on the DVD while I’m at it, but since the story is unable to hold my attention I write down the necessities and then send out the manuscript towards the appropriate publisher and keep my fingers crossed.
Sure, it’s good, but you never know what an editor is going to think. It is a nerve-wrecking and nail-biting part of any author’s life, really, the waiting, the interminable waiting, the endless waiting, which in many cases ends with a “no response” or a standard “no this story won’t fit in our current list” or some such line.
So wait I shall. No other choice really. With my nerves jumping I switch the computer to standby and decide to attempt focusing on the movie instead. Impossible! It appears to be a jumbled, grab all cliché’s, badly cut, directed and written film that I hope I didn’t interpret right due to my mood. Seriously, I haven’t felt inclined to shut a movie off since…well, in years, but for a moment there I was seriously tempted.
There seemed to be entire scenes missing, and for the sake of this movie I truly hope that this was due to my state of mind rather than the actual quality.
It seemed like a friggin’ kiddy movie, and a bad one at that. Scenes slabbed in there to make it funny when it wasn’t, action sequences that were so totally out there in the realm of fiction that for a moment I was actually baffled.
I don’t remember the last Indiana Jones’ being that bad. The Temple Doom certainly wasn’t the best in the row but this one…Ouch.
The idea was marvelous, and it could have been a totally awesome movie if some lunatic hadn’t hacked out any and all scenes that would have made it all make sense (or at least that’s what I think happened) it just didn’t…make sense that is, none of it, and like I said, I truly hope it was my mind that made it so.
Considering that I can’t follow either Dead Like Me, or Frasier either, I’m thinking that it’s the screamy/headbangy/ichy thing messing with my head, so I try to wipe my frustration about the movie aside and focus on other more important things: Such as heading towards my cabin.
What with my equilibrium not working well at all, neither mentally nor physically I am careful heading up the mountain, my dogs enthusiastically leading the way while I just barely manage keep myself from falling flat on my face, right before reaching my porch. Bommel and Sitabah are having their usual tussle right in the center of the path, almost knocking me over.
I hiss my disapproval at them–not being my most literate self at the moment–hoisting the computer bag that seems to become heavier every day, back across my chest, and throw the door open to let the dogs burst inside.
The first thing I do, after lighting the lamps, is try to get my stereo to work. What with the increasing cold it won’t run at the press of a button, but needs to be restarted time and again. I am starting to get seriously frustrated by the time the dogs are fed and I have cleared away the three bags with shopping supplies. The silence is allowing my mind to start thinking, which at this point could very well be disastrous. So, while I start singing Katie Melua’s “Just Like Heaven” just to fill the voice, I give the dratted machine a firm smack on the face and am pleased to find it functioning two minutes later.
With BA belting about “The Only Thing That Looks Good On Me” (Is You) I release a relieved sigh and settle in for the night.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Wooden butt!
I wake feeling pretty darn awful, aching all over and dragging my butt out of the bed to let the dogs out. What with my lower back aching, my shoulders pulling, I spend several minutes doing some basic stretches in the full sunlight on my porch in hopes of removing kinks and stiffness as I ponder the night past.
Instead of interesting, cheering dreams, my mind has been replaying yesterday’s editing over and over again during a night that was far too short after getting to bed at 6.30 in the morning…and that when I’d planned to make it an early night. Drat! Too little sleep again. Why can’t I get to bed on time? Is it fate?
Moving my joints smoothly and deliberately, the shoulder pains disappear, as do those in my legs, but the one on my lower back stays persistently as I groan and slowly start to get dressed for the day. Whatever it was that caused this feeling, I’m not happy about it.
I take the dogs down to the main house, depositing my bag on the kitchen counter before heading right back out into the courtyard to get the dry laundry down, and then lug the new batch out grumbling at the dogs constantly.
It isn’t fair, I know, but it is not like they understand anything but my tone, which I try to keep mild on my way back in the house for a quick breakfast that tastes like sand in my mouth.
Rather than start with the planned editing session, I decide to do some cleaning first. What with the past week of 10-12 hour days behind the computer, things are starting to look more than a little awful.
Removing gigantic spider webs from dark corner and ceilings before I finally settle down to worry about book details once more. Having decided to skip my messages for the day, big brother and I start with work immediately and spent the next eleven hours, reading, changing and shifting around page after page until at long last our second edit is “done”.
It went surprisingly well, considering my mood upon awakening. The first fifteen pages went very smoothly, bearing testament that our previous session was intense, accurate and very adequate. It is a cheering thought, to say the least.
Intense “love” scenes, sinister atmosphere, vampire violence, deep emotions of tortured characters that find understanding and love together at last.
I love the protagonists: Silent Rash (the lonely vampire) and bubbly Addie (the Irish witch) who was based on a dear friend of mine. She “adored” (her words) the idea that I was basing the heroine on her, and has been reading her daily updates on the story diligently…and thoroughly enjoys them.
“’T is grand!” she’ll write back every day, going into detail how she cried at some parts and laughed at others. Good stuff that: Always a pleasure to hear such raving responses about one’s efforts.
But anyways: Depending on how we feel about the changes that were made today tomorrow the morning, the story will probably be send out to the publisher before we have to go to town for the groceries and such. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
Clue is doing well today, and Trin Trin, who received her last injection for Leishmania just two days ago, is looking vibrant, with her fur shiny and soft at long last.
Hunger, though never much of a problem when writing or editing, was taken care of today by the sibs, who made a wonderful meal of vegetables folded within large thin pancakes. Now that today’s session is over, however, hunger gnaws at my stomach, warranting a quick sandwich before I head to my room. Though the bread and cheese doesn’t set well, and neither does that orange juice going with it, I do need the nutrition and manage to keep it down as I head out the door with the dogs dashing on either side of me.
Once I get to my bedroom, I am startled to find a dead rat on my bed, from the looks of him having been caught by Sitabah around the time I got to my cabin, busy with feeding and such, and leaving the door open for the dogs to roam. Not smart.
It is a wonderful present for sure, but I could have done without finding it on my bed, in all honesty. I think I’m going to have to have a little chat with the dogs about the protocols of giving gifts. This simply won’t do, no matter how much I appreciate the sentiment.
And with this the day’s end arrives. It’s a chilling night, a clear starry sky and to my relief no wind. It was a long day and though it was spent on my butt, I feel more tired than I would have been after intense physical labor. Still there is a certain sense of “a job well done” at least.
Instead of interesting, cheering dreams, my mind has been replaying yesterday’s editing over and over again during a night that was far too short after getting to bed at 6.30 in the morning…and that when I’d planned to make it an early night. Drat! Too little sleep again. Why can’t I get to bed on time? Is it fate?
Moving my joints smoothly and deliberately, the shoulder pains disappear, as do those in my legs, but the one on my lower back stays persistently as I groan and slowly start to get dressed for the day. Whatever it was that caused this feeling, I’m not happy about it.
I take the dogs down to the main house, depositing my bag on the kitchen counter before heading right back out into the courtyard to get the dry laundry down, and then lug the new batch out grumbling at the dogs constantly.
It isn’t fair, I know, but it is not like they understand anything but my tone, which I try to keep mild on my way back in the house for a quick breakfast that tastes like sand in my mouth.
Rather than start with the planned editing session, I decide to do some cleaning first. What with the past week of 10-12 hour days behind the computer, things are starting to look more than a little awful.
Removing gigantic spider webs from dark corner and ceilings before I finally settle down to worry about book details once more. Having decided to skip my messages for the day, big brother and I start with work immediately and spent the next eleven hours, reading, changing and shifting around page after page until at long last our second edit is “done”.
It went surprisingly well, considering my mood upon awakening. The first fifteen pages went very smoothly, bearing testament that our previous session was intense, accurate and very adequate. It is a cheering thought, to say the least.
Intense “love” scenes, sinister atmosphere, vampire violence, deep emotions of tortured characters that find understanding and love together at last.
I love the protagonists: Silent Rash (the lonely vampire) and bubbly Addie (the Irish witch) who was based on a dear friend of mine. She “adored” (her words) the idea that I was basing the heroine on her, and has been reading her daily updates on the story diligently…and thoroughly enjoys them.
“’T is grand!” she’ll write back every day, going into detail how she cried at some parts and laughed at others. Good stuff that: Always a pleasure to hear such raving responses about one’s efforts.
But anyways: Depending on how we feel about the changes that were made today tomorrow the morning, the story will probably be send out to the publisher before we have to go to town for the groceries and such. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
Clue is doing well today, and Trin Trin, who received her last injection for Leishmania just two days ago, is looking vibrant, with her fur shiny and soft at long last.
Hunger, though never much of a problem when writing or editing, was taken care of today by the sibs, who made a wonderful meal of vegetables folded within large thin pancakes. Now that today’s session is over, however, hunger gnaws at my stomach, warranting a quick sandwich before I head to my room. Though the bread and cheese doesn’t set well, and neither does that orange juice going with it, I do need the nutrition and manage to keep it down as I head out the door with the dogs dashing on either side of me.
Once I get to my bedroom, I am startled to find a dead rat on my bed, from the looks of him having been caught by Sitabah around the time I got to my cabin, busy with feeding and such, and leaving the door open for the dogs to roam. Not smart.
It is a wonderful present for sure, but I could have done without finding it on my bed, in all honesty. I think I’m going to have to have a little chat with the dogs about the protocols of giving gifts. This simply won’t do, no matter how much I appreciate the sentiment.
And with this the day’s end arrives. It’s a chilling night, a clear starry sky and to my relief no wind. It was a long day and though it was spent on my butt, I feel more tired than I would have been after intense physical labor. Still there is a certain sense of “a job well done” at least.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Bugger.
I have very little to write about today. Last night’s wandering thoughts took long enough for me to get to bed well past my bedtime, so I didn’t get enough sleep today…again. It’s starting to be a habit, it seems. This entire blog thing is most certainly not beneficial to my sleeping pattern. But that’s okay. Who needs sleep anyway?
So how was my day? I’m not sure; I’m feeling a bit ambivalent about it, so whoever reads it will have to decide on their own.
I wake at my usual time. The sun shining in a clear blue sky, while the temperatures are just barely comfortable. My head feels blurry, a lack-of-sleep-hangover pounding distantly in my skull as I pop an extra vitamin C and rummage through the drawers in search of cold medicine now that my throat feels painfully sore.
My by yearly cold is rearing its ugly head this past week, and I’m working hard at nipping it in the butt before it gets out of hand, the way it did last year. I have no intention of my lungs filling up with liquid again, the sore throat, clogged nose and a fever that will incapacitate me for a full week while the bug lingers for at least a month. Bloody cold!
I also have a variety of cuts in my lips…I always get those during the dry cold days in winter…and occasional blood flows while my face readjusts to actual movements after a night of inactivity.
A glance in the mirror shows that I am quite a horrific sight. Tiny black-red crusts in the corners of my mouth and Albert Einstein hair, right before I plunge my face in the sink and follow that up by quickly combing my hair in a semblance of order, prior to another wary, and quick, glance in the mirror.
There were dreams, but as is often case when I wake abruptly after just a few hours of sleep, I can’t recall them within five minutes of waking.
Still, I don’t feel too bad as I get dressed and head down to the house with the dogs coming my pursuit.
Knight’s annoying harassment, definitely a habit he is rapidly acquiring in the mornings, doesn’t improve my mood at all. The majority of the hour that follows my relocation is spent trying to hang the day’s laundry…after just barely saving it from getting dirty again when the handle of the basket breaks off in my hand on the way into the courtyard. I think I pulled a muscle, making a rather odd twist-dodge-lean towards the wall to keep it from going all over the ground.
But anyway: I have a quick breakfast and stick my nose in a mug of coffee while the computer boots up and the usual routine ensues. Three hours and three cigarettes later big brother and I still haven’t made any serious headway with editing: Just three or four pages that literally crawl by when we get constantly distracted from the task at hand.
Around seven in the evening I decide to quit for a while, leaving big brother at his computer while he keeps an eye on mine so I can prepare dinner without the bother to putting my computer safely away.
Couscous, stir fried with olive oil and curries, rather than just cooking it, is on the menu today. Unless it is prepared in this particular way, with an onion, salt and a bit of sugar to give it some taste, I really don’t like couscous at all. It’s bland and…well, just bland, unless prepared just right when it’s still dry. Adding some veggies, red bell pepper, peas, sweet corn and green beans, I’m done and disperse the portions of the hungry mob.
I have several near misses with Knight II, who really would like a mouthful of human food, but manage to keep my portion intact–just barely.
After dinner and its ensuing cleanup, I force myself back to the computer for some more editing, which is my least favorite part of the entire writing process.
Luckily the second session goes much better, and by the time 1 AM has passed the manuscript is dubbed “done”…for the first round. Tomorrow the next round will be there, but for a while that doesn’t matter.
Ten minutes later it does. However well the session went; today my mood was not beneficial for the task at all. Pretty much everything read/sounded wrong, horrible and dreadful, and though I am well aware that as soon as the proverbial dust settles, it won’t be half as bad as I think it is at the moment, it annoys me to no end.
The usual trip to the cabin comes right after a quick slice of bread with peanut butter and honey–for some reason I was starving, still am, as a matter of fact, but food will have to wait ‘till tomorrow.
With this final recount, the day has come to an end and…I’m late once again.
Bugger!
So how was my day? I’m not sure; I’m feeling a bit ambivalent about it, so whoever reads it will have to decide on their own.
I wake at my usual time. The sun shining in a clear blue sky, while the temperatures are just barely comfortable. My head feels blurry, a lack-of-sleep-hangover pounding distantly in my skull as I pop an extra vitamin C and rummage through the drawers in search of cold medicine now that my throat feels painfully sore.
My by yearly cold is rearing its ugly head this past week, and I’m working hard at nipping it in the butt before it gets out of hand, the way it did last year. I have no intention of my lungs filling up with liquid again, the sore throat, clogged nose and a fever that will incapacitate me for a full week while the bug lingers for at least a month. Bloody cold!
I also have a variety of cuts in my lips…I always get those during the dry cold days in winter…and occasional blood flows while my face readjusts to actual movements after a night of inactivity.
A glance in the mirror shows that I am quite a horrific sight. Tiny black-red crusts in the corners of my mouth and Albert Einstein hair, right before I plunge my face in the sink and follow that up by quickly combing my hair in a semblance of order, prior to another wary, and quick, glance in the mirror.
There were dreams, but as is often case when I wake abruptly after just a few hours of sleep, I can’t recall them within five minutes of waking.
Still, I don’t feel too bad as I get dressed and head down to the house with the dogs coming my pursuit.
Knight’s annoying harassment, definitely a habit he is rapidly acquiring in the mornings, doesn’t improve my mood at all. The majority of the hour that follows my relocation is spent trying to hang the day’s laundry…after just barely saving it from getting dirty again when the handle of the basket breaks off in my hand on the way into the courtyard. I think I pulled a muscle, making a rather odd twist-dodge-lean towards the wall to keep it from going all over the ground.
But anyway: I have a quick breakfast and stick my nose in a mug of coffee while the computer boots up and the usual routine ensues. Three hours and three cigarettes later big brother and I still haven’t made any serious headway with editing: Just three or four pages that literally crawl by when we get constantly distracted from the task at hand.
Around seven in the evening I decide to quit for a while, leaving big brother at his computer while he keeps an eye on mine so I can prepare dinner without the bother to putting my computer safely away.
Couscous, stir fried with olive oil and curries, rather than just cooking it, is on the menu today. Unless it is prepared in this particular way, with an onion, salt and a bit of sugar to give it some taste, I really don’t like couscous at all. It’s bland and…well, just bland, unless prepared just right when it’s still dry. Adding some veggies, red bell pepper, peas, sweet corn and green beans, I’m done and disperse the portions of the hungry mob.
I have several near misses with Knight II, who really would like a mouthful of human food, but manage to keep my portion intact–just barely.
After dinner and its ensuing cleanup, I force myself back to the computer for some more editing, which is my least favorite part of the entire writing process.
Luckily the second session goes much better, and by the time 1 AM has passed the manuscript is dubbed “done”…for the first round. Tomorrow the next round will be there, but for a while that doesn’t matter.
Ten minutes later it does. However well the session went; today my mood was not beneficial for the task at all. Pretty much everything read/sounded wrong, horrible and dreadful, and though I am well aware that as soon as the proverbial dust settles, it won’t be half as bad as I think it is at the moment, it annoys me to no end.
The usual trip to the cabin comes right after a quick slice of bread with peanut butter and honey–for some reason I was starving, still am, as a matter of fact, but food will have to wait ‘till tomorrow.
With this final recount, the day has come to an end and…I’m late once again.
Bugger!
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