Another day goes by.

I wake too late again today. The blasted alarm didn’t go off when it was supposed to, so instead of my intended rising time, the dogs don’t wake me up an hour and a half later.

The monster Boxer is, of course, doing her very best to win the tug of war we tend to wage every morning, hanging on my blankets while Knight II is pulling it in the opposite direction, and I try to keep it in place with an occasional threat thrown at the two feints that have serious issues for as far as I’m concerned. Whatever happened to jumping on the boss and licking me awake, I wonder. It might be a little icky, but at least it’s a gentle way of waking up.

In the end, I loose, the way I usually do, and roll out of bed to throw the dogs out before actual mayhem starts.
There were dreams, pleasant ones, too, if the inexplicable jubilance that momentarily floats through my mind is any indication. If not for the being-unable-to-remember-them part, I might actually have had a genuinely cheerful mood today. Hah.

Instead, I hurry through the morning rituals and dodge the monster Trin Trin on my way down the mountain, ending up grabbing her collar to keep her from slamming her head into my legs as if it were a battering ram. I swear there are times when I think there’s not even a remote hint of sanity in the monster. She has this big callus on the top of her head from all the times she uses it as a demolishing device.
Anyone who saw the Tom Hanks film “Turner & Hooch” will know what I’m talking about. Did I ever mention that’s she steadily eating my back door? Well, she is! That’s Trin Trin for you. Totally nuts!

But anyways, I make it safely down to the house, preceding the dogs to the front door for a change, since Amri, who’s still behind the fence, is distracting them from leading the way.
Big brother’s pack welcomes us with their usual racket, first storming at the door I open and then dashing away when Knight II comes barging in, towering over them all and intimidating them with his mere presence.

It is a funny sight, actually, seeing the ferocious Cockers, Portuguese waterdogs and Pointers bravely protecting the door, right until my Great Dane steps through, lowering his head to look at them with apparent interest time and again.
It just never seems to get old for them to go through this particular ritual.

After depositing my computer bag on the counter, snapping Trin Trin on the leash before she can make grandpa’s life miserable, I head back outside to get down today’s laundry, and proceed to hang the next batch before it’s time for breakfast.

The electricity is off today, it has been for at least six hours, or so big brother tells me while I make a quick meal for Yadzia and separate him from the eager pack that would love nothing more than to steal the food from the older Labrador.
Luckily I can already see the effects the extra meals are having on Yadzia. He’s losing that bony look rapidly, and is getting more enthusiastic for the treat every day.

Once the lab is eating, I get to my own breakfast–forced to go without coffee this morning unless I put the kettle on and make myself instant. Opting against that, I pour a tall glass with OJ and drink it over bread and cheese while standing at the counter.

Next comes folding today’s laundry, which, with big brother’s help gets done in record time.
What with the power out, I’m in no hurry to get behind my computer, which only has about 45 minutes of battery power, and decide to get the piled-up canned goods from the pantry and neatly set them into the new cabinet that was hung just last night.

I’m most pleased to find that everything fits beautifully and that there’s even room for more. It’s peculiar how a storage place can overflow in one place and then, with the removal of one shelve and some redesigning can fit twice as much supplies. It does that, however, and by the time I finish setting the kitchen to rights the power goes back on, allowing me to set up the laptop and start on today’s computer work.

Since, up until now, I haven’t yet participated in the new vampire book project yet, I decide to go over big brother’s pages and add my bit.
He’s made a solid start, and all I really need to do is add some atmospheric cosmetics that’ll make a rounder whole of the scene he’s created.
I’m amazed at how his writing style matches mine, finding enjoyment in not having to do the majority of the work for a change, and just enjoying what I read, while placing bits and pieces throughout descriptions and the likes.

Excellent, what with the two of us adding to the story, we might actually get the book done in record time. I can hardly wait to read the end result.

I’m up to page four, having added almost two pages when it is time for me to start dinner. I have a hankering for something with potato today, so after rummaging through the supplies I find what I need to make a nice hardy, vegetarian shepherd’s pie. While putting on milk and water for instant mashed potatoes, adding salt, peppers and a bit of sugar for taste, I gather the fresh produce that’ll fit the dish and start chopping away.

Though little sister likes my shepherd pie, she is hankering for a reheated portion of yesterday’s Asian noodles. So, while I’m cooking the new dish, she is working around me to heat her choice of food.
This endeavor proves how well we designed the new kitchen. We manage to work side by side, exchanging position every once and a while, without actually getting in each other’s way…the way we would have in the old kitchen.

It isn’t until big brother comes to stand nearby, talking about a particularly annoying news report that was on TV this morning, that it gets too crowded–with him come ten more dogs at least, each and every one of them swirling around our feet–and we send him off to the other side of the counter in order to be able to move.

Thirty minutes later, having used the marvelous big oven that crusted the cheese on top of the shepherd’s pie beautifully, it’s time for dinner–little sister promises to eat her share tomorrow–and we all dig in. The dish is a success, and earns itself a spot in the cookbook sometime in the future for sure.

After dinner I spend at least an hour cleaning up, doing the dishes, and removing spilled grout from the tiles, before deciding I have enough room to get the last cabinet from its place by the last piece of counter that still belongs to the old kitchen, and clean it thoroughly.

While the cabinet used to stand up straight, it is the plan that we’ll hang it horizontally this time. It is pretty dirty from being untreated and vulnerable to canine bodies rubbing up against it for more than a year, and some blemishes need to be repaired.

I start using the “mouse” sanding machine, but when it proves to be useless against the dirt that has gathered I take out the heavy duty B&D and spend quite a bit of time sanding it down to the wood until at long last it is ready for painting.

Little sister and brother are obviously not in the mood for remodeling today, but middle sister is game and comes down to help me prime the cabinet and then put on the first layer of red by the time the evening starts to draw to an end.

In the meanwhile, big brother joins in for a bit–at my request–and cuts off a section of the steel racks for the fresh produce, so it’ll fit below the first one. While I don’t like to waste precious materials such as stainless steel, I fully intend to throw the cutoff section away when cleanup time has arrived and little sister comes down to scrub the rack for use. But when middle sister and I are making the rack sturdier during reassembling, I see the section lying there and realize that it is actually still useable.

I mess with it for a bit, and yes, there it is, a perfect basket for fresh fruit, which fits precisely on the bar in the center of the kitchen island.
I LOVE it when we manage to recycle endurable materials, and love it even more when it looks good.

It’s already past midnight when we’re done cleaning, and after doing some quick pull-ups (I always feel I’m missing out on something when I don’t have a workout) on the metal staff hanging in the living room I relax with a pear for a snack and some OJ. After sitting there for half an hour or so, it’s well passed my usual time to move the pack up for the night.

They’re tired, like me, and are actually remarkably calm as we make our way up the mountain and enter my cabin. The temperature is pretty low tonight, certainly compared to today’s pleasantly mild weather, so the heater gets turned on before I feed the dogs and get read to settle behind the computer for my nightly session.

The dogs, who’ve been very patient with all the projects going on these weeks passed, do require some extra attention tonight, crowding around me for a good rubbing on the bed and floor alike.
The monster Boxer is actually snorting her demands on the bed as I stand at the foot-end rubbing her all over until she’s literally chortling her pleasure. She has the cutest way of sniffing and snorting when she’s excited. Hah.

Mosha tries to climb onto my shoulders, the black labs are stroking themselves against my legs like cats, and the rest is trying to get their fair share until I decide they’ve had enough and clap my hands to get them to their resting place of choice.

Half of the pack does exactly that, while the other half looks at me indignantly when I climb on the bed, settle with the computer and log on.
There are some fun chats on the net, no personal messages–which is a first, I believe–and then of course today’s Blog.

Some readjustments...and memories.

Am a little on the late side this morning when I wake and scowl at the noisy dogs. There have been three premature wake-ups, thanks to the monster Boxer, but otherwise it was an uneventful night. It was too short, but sufficient enough, I suppose.

While I’m locking out the monster, so I can let the others out, Knight II decides to vent his frustrations on the blankets, dragging them off in the three seconds it takes me to turn my back and lock the door in Trin Trin’s face.

I grumble my displeasure at him, dragging the blankets back up and then unlocking the door to let the pack of lunatics out into semi-freedom so I’m able to do the usual morning cleaning without the pack getting in the way.

About an hour later, once I’m in the main house, I’m delighted to find that there’s no laundry and that yesterday’s batch isn’t completely dry yet, so I change into my exercise outfit and start my warm up routine for today’s workout session. Almost a week without exercise, and I was starting to feel a little edgy from it, so I throw myself into the workout wholeheartedly.

It goes well, jumps, pumps, pull-ups, punches, kicks and whatnot preceding a short session with the weights until the hour has passed and I head to the showers to get rid of the perspiration that has gathered aplenty. Suitably fuzzy by the hot water, I get dressed once more and return to the house for a quick preparation of Yadzia’s extra meal, breakfast, and my morning coffee before I set up the computer and get to the messages.

Very few again today, blessed holidays allowing me to switch my attention to the latest book project and write down a page or so before I remember the plan: I’m supposed to get online with my publisher and load up the digest (cheaper) versions of my W.I Investigations.

It takes about three hours to get everything just right, some mix-ups that I don’t notice until I’ve already downloaded three files, meaning that I have to go back to do it all over again, dragging it out for longer than I’d intended. Ah well, I was successful in the end, having a five brand new copies of my book available for readers for decent prices at last.
Wonder if it’ll make a difference. Hah.

I was in the middle of the last upload when little sister started on our dinner: Asian stir-fry noodles, with pickles and fried eggs on the side. It goes down well on this chilly Christmas day, filling our stomachs and pleasing the palate.
We’re in the midst of dinner when grandpa reminds us of eleven years ago, this very day, when we had our very first meal inside the newly constructed–and not finished at that time–house.

It is a wonderful memory. I remember the weeks preceding it, while we were working double time in hopes of getting it all done so we could celebrate this very day inside the house. We’d been working like mad on getting the wooden boards up on the roof. Me using the circle saw to cut board after board, treating them with anti-termite poison stuff and then lifting them straight up into the air–still partially wet, of course, hah–where those on top of the roof were nailing them down.

We were spread thin, working on laying the last bricks on one side, others connecting the heavy beams making up the roof, while the boards rapidly hid the view of the sky overhead until at long last a ceiling was in place, just days before Christmas.

The weather was pleasant enough, if a little iffy when it concerned occasional rainstorms. We’d covered the whole up with a thick layer of plastic by the time all the debris were shoveled out of the structure.
The day before Christmas eve the first tiles were laid. Beautiful earth red squares with a matching decorative rectangular, laid out like a fake carpet in the center of what would one day turn into our living room.

I remember that even as I started on preparing a five-course dinner for that special night, big brother and a family friend were grouting those tiles finishing up just hours before dinnertime.
In the meanwhile I discovered the complications of cooking such an elaborate meal with only two burners and a tiny ten-year-old oven we’d brought out just for the occasion.

It took me hours to get everything done, filling dish after dish, demanding updates on how the work was going, while maneuvering through what was basically an old trailer kitchen where you could barely turn around without knocking into something.
I don’t know how many times we moved up and down the mountain, getting all the dishes, china, drinks, cutlery and whatnot up to the house, but I do know that by the time I was finished a feast was weighing down the makeshift table in the very center of the recently laid floor.

We’d used portable braces as supports for the table that consisted from spare wooden boards that hadn’t gone up on the roof. It was at least three yards long, a little uneven and covered by a clean white sheet. There was no electricity yet, and only three actual chairs, so with our group of nine we were sitting on buckets, piled up bricks and a wobbly stool that had been used through a variety of chores.

Two-dozen candles lit up the table; showing off the fancy china I’d dug out from the storage holds underneath the bus and had spent hours cleaning. It looked good and by the time we all got down to the business of toasting our hard work and digging in, the atmosphere was more than a little cozy.

I’d cooked too much, of course, but every course was a delight, making me feel stuffed up to my eyeballs by the time we finished dinner and procrastinated about starting cleanup and lugging everything back down to the bus. In the end, I believe we only took down the absolute necessary, deciding to tackle the big cleanup the following day when our bodies had digested the big meal. Hah.

It’s strange how such memories can flash through one’s mind in just seconds, while actually writing it down takes up to twenty minutes.

But back to today: I decide to get to work after dinner, doing the dishes in little sister’s stead and then looking around what’s on the “menu” for today.

The new cabinet for storage needs to be painted one last time, a task middle sister volunteers to do while I finish cleaning everything from the counter in preparation of taking out the bar in the center.

We’ve debated the issue for several days now, and finally we made a joined decision to lower the bar just a few inches in order to create a more open atmosphere in the kitchen.

It is a tedious job which big brother and I set ourselves on just as soon as we manage to pry the elevated section from where it’s squeezed between the counters.
Some effort is put into this task, until at long last we manage to lift the heavy section up and out of place, and set it on the counter so I can take it apart.

Since air grates have already been fitted, in order to create some symmetry we need to take off two inches from the top and one and a half from the bottom. It is no easy task to perform, especially since it is necessary to keep it all straight, and in the same dimensions when we slide it back in place and exclaim a mutual sigh of relief.

The end result is different, but also roomier, just the way we’d intended. Cut offs have been repainted, screws pre-drilled and two hours later the counter is once again looking pretty.

Using a small container, I mix up some more tile glue and fit the last pieces to the inches revealed by the lower bar counter, adding tile sills under the windows before using the remainder to grout the tiles and bringing us yet another step closer to completion of the kitchen.

By this time middle sister has finished painting, and while we wait for the paint to dry, we do some cosmetics, such as steel utility racks, allowing for storage. By the time we’re done, midnight is nearing, but the cabinet still needs to be hung, so we move on to that.

Using metal corners to hang the heavy wooden structure, the cabinet gets hung, leaving just enough room between it and the freezer for the steel racks that are going to hold our fresh produce in the near future.

At long last, with just one more rack to go, we call it a night and join little sister and brother, who have already started the nightly cleanup.
It is past one in the morning when the night has come to an end, and I drag my tired limbs up the mountain to my cabin, where I still need to feed the dogs.

In light of tonight’s activities, I might have done better in skipping another workout session, but still, considering that doing my exercises is, and should be, a semi-steady routine, I’m glad I did them anyway.
Yes, every muscle in my body is screaming by now, but the body also knows (and cheers audibly) that I won’t have to do them for at least a day or two.

Writing exploits.

I had a wonderful dream. I know I did when the Monster Boxer woke me up just a short time after sunrise, thinking, right before I dropped my head back in the pillow, “Gawd, I need to remember this one,” and tightened my hold around the monster’s thick neck, just to keep her immobile for a few more hours of sleep.

When the alarm screeched the dream was gone, however, making me more than a little frustrated when I get out of bed and toss the dogs out trying, without success, to dig the details out of my un-cooperating brain. Grrrr. It was marvelous, thrilling, exciting and…it is completely gone, making me want to grab Trin Trin, the monster, and shake her.

Alas I’m not that vengeful and just go through the morning, grumbling at her about how she ruined a perfectly good Blog subject for me with her usual shenanigans. She just stares at me with that bored wide-eyed look, turning around mid-rant and leaving me talking to the empty spot she left behind with the common courtesy of requesting to be excused. The nerve! She took the wind right out of my sails.

Shaking my head at her lack of compassion, I make the bed and then get dressed.
The sky is overcast–it has been since my rude awakening in the morning–and a distinct chill swirls through the air while the dogs and I make our way down the mountain towards the courtyard gate.

Still not a workout day, yay, so as soon as I’ve deposited my bag on the kitchen counter, I head back outside to take down a small amount of laundry and continue to lug out the three batches that have been done during the night for hanging.

Those done I head into the house for a few pull-ups, a quick breakfast and then settle behind the computer with my coffee and cigarette. Messages are rapidly dealt with. The Holidays keep people busy so there is really little to answer before I spend half an hour on the forums and then switch over to reading the psychic novel parts I’ll need in order to continue writing the story.

It takes me only a few pages before I get into the mood and scroll through to where I last wrote for this particular tale. I manage to add half a page, while interacting with big brother who’s trying his hand at actual writing be starting the vampire novel on his own. It goes pretty well, he even admits so himself when in the past he’d always find himself getting stuck in the first paragraph because he wants everything to be perfect from the start.

It would be great, of course, but regretfully that is not how writing works. It is a painstaking process of first just letting the words flow out unhindered by actual thoughts. (For me it is, at least.) Then, once this is done, you go back time and again to remove redundant statements, repeats, punctuations, typos, and shifting around everything until a semblance of a “done” story begins to take form.

A long tedious process, that requires occasional settle periods, nightly ponderings, and daily reproves on how you could possibly have written something that asinine?…only to find out that in the end only the basics of the story are actually there unchanged from the way it was first written.
It is frustrating, time consuming and utterly…satisfying in the end when you’re reading through the final product of your imagination.

I do admit to feeling a sense of excitement for big brother who is really just starting on his road of discovery into the complex world of writing. He is still experiencing the wonder of creating an illustrative sentence, even the smaller ones, and such marvel is what made me addicted to becoming an author in the first place.

He’s got the imagination, and the sense of pace necessary for contemporary paranormal fiction–as he should, after reading the genre for years–and as soon as he has developed the necessary vocabulary he’ll learn real fast to match my own speed in writing a story down.

He’s a better sport than I am, too. He doesn’t appear to mind my suggestions at all, having attitude of “add and remove what you think isn’t right”, with an ease that astounds me at times.

Personally I’m too set in my ways now to manage such a feat. I need to let my fingers rattle in the first burst of writing, with as little input from the outside as possible lest I lose my grip on the sometimes elusive thread of inspiration.
Edits and suggestions in the midst of that only confuse me, and make the fountain sputter to a stop if I’m not very careful.

Later on I’m fine with it. If something doesn’t flow, or make sense, I appreciate his input well enough, but first I actually need to get all that’s swirling in my head down on the proverbial page.
Big brother, on the other hand, actually seems to thrive on continuous input, which earns him considerable kudos for as far as I’m concerned.

It is a rather thrilling concept, really, what with the two of us producing stories at a staggering speed. I wonder what all we’ll manage to create into the variety of genres we’re interested in. Action, Sci-Fi, Romance, Paranormal, Fantasy, horror and Thrillers: The sky would be the limit, I’m thinking…thought admittedly the last two are more my area of expertise. Hah.

While I type a page or so, he manages three quarters of one and it has him positively cheery. I don’t blame him either. Back in the day when I first started out, a full page was a day’s work, and it would be a disaster in edits, hah. He’s far better than I was at the beginning, that’s a fact.

Halfway through the session I get momentarily distracted upon finding a recording program on my computer, and mess around with recording several texts from my books–and listening to them–just to see how they’d sound.
It’s not bad. My voice appears to have changed over the years. It’s become huskier, I think, and rather than the annoying European accent that always drove me bonkers in the past, I can now switch from Old English to American. I just might attempt a serious recording some time in the near future.

Still, with both of us having made a solid dive into our separate projects, dusk has arrived and I shut the computer down to start on dinner.

Couscous with veggies will be it for today, and I chop onions and garlic to glaze in a curry herbal mix before adding half a pack of the dried couscous, which I bake that way for several minutes.
Some salt and sugar for taste, along with pepper precede the liberal pouring of boiling water that will soften the couscous while the flavor has already settled in the mix.

Next come the red and green bell pepper pieces, sliced cauliflower, green beans, peas and sweet corn that finish the list of ingredients. Thirty minutes after I began, dinner’s ready for consumption, earning me several compliments on a dish the younger sibs really enjoy. With a liberal add of cottage cheese, I too enjoyed the meal, and start cleanup immediately. Little needs to be done, since the meal was simple, so fifteen minutes later I look around to see what’s next.

The pantry is a mess, or so I noticed during the course of the week, and I decide to clean it prior to starting on the kitchen project. Bottles of soda are scattered over the floor, bags of dog food are randomly placed on the expanse of floor, and in the section where the washing machine stands laundry actually tumbled out of the bags.

Grumbling about the obvious lack of care about the mess in there, I spend almost an hour putting the room to rights, and then proceed to get the canned supplies from the kitchen, so I can empty the old storage cabinet.

While it is slowly depleted of its contents I realize that the design is really quite similar to that of the new kitchen, and after examining the structure for a bit, big brother and I decide that it will be really easy to make adjustments to the structure.
By sawing off the bottom shelve it can easily be tipped on its side. Then, using the former shelves as walls and the removed section as new, shorter shelves, it will be a smaller, much more manageable supply closet that’ll fit perfectly beside freezer.

Recycling; you gotta love it–and as an added bonus it will save us at least € 100 in new materials. Perfect, we decide and set to work.

Big brother diverts his attention between the lot of us, helping out where he can, and doing some more work on the electrical outlets for the fridges that has us without power when something shorts during the procedure.
No matter, though, the problem is fixed within several minutes and work is once again in full swing.

So, while little brother and sister are painting the wall where the freezer and fridge were yesterday, I begin sawing and sanding the soon-to-be new supply closet.
Across the counter, middle sister is preparing the primer she’ll need to paint the cleaned wood, and starts on that task by the time I’m ready to cut the shelves out of the old, long one.

It seems almost predestined, since everything fits with little more than an inch to spare. I love it when things work out like that.

The radio is mostly playing atrocious Christmas songs, and this earns the stations a lot of grumbling on our part while we take turns skipping to different ones in search for something a little less seasonal. In the end we settle on one of those noisy stations with lots of base and repeats that normally wouldn’t come from our speakers for any price…but, all the Christmas “cheer” is just too much to bear. Hah.

It takes most of the night to re-make the cabinet just right, but in the end, with two layers of paint covering it up, we’re quite pleased with the end result. Measurements throughout have shown that we should be able to hang the new-old shelves on just the right height to allow room for the small electrical grill and microwave, and allowing room to spare of the small steel baskets that hold the fresh produce.

With little brother and sister starting cleanup around us, middle sister and I finish our painting and put the new structure away so the big cleaning can get done.
Glue spills from the previous tiling night need to removed from both wall and floor tiles, paint splatters get swiped away and the general mess is dealt with until half an hour before midnight everything looks remotely presentable once more and we all go our separate ways.

What with it being early still, big brother and I both decide to get back to writing, and delve into our prospective worlds of literature for an hour before I head on up to my quarters and start preparing for the night to come with a solid two pages for the day under my belt.

Big brother is thrilled about having managed the same amount during the day, and we talk over the house phone several times during the course of the evening.
I’m in the midst of cleaning my bathroom when the first call comes in, and I’m just about to start up my computer the second time, making me smile once more at his enthusiasm.

At long last I settle down for my nightly session, and soon start on today’s Blog in hopes that I can get it done in time. I can’t, of course. As usual I get carried away and end up writing more than I’d intended. Also, a few more attempts at the recordings, messing around with singing some of the songs I like best, takes much longer than I’d intended. I’ve decided that my voice sounds best with Alanis Morrisette songs, Jewel, Ilse Delange and Katie Melua songs. Very cool.

Too late, again. Ah well. This is Samaya’s World nonetheless.

The day and a short rant.

I was having a particularly pleasant dream about my books being in the bestseller lists when the monster Boxer awakened me from blessed sleep about three hours before it was time for me to get up. The disturbance was certainly at a most inopportune time, erasing most of the details on the dream, only leaving me with that solitary memory to hold onto when I grabbed the beast and dragged her onto the bed.

I’d fully intended to continue on with the dream, but of course failed when I dropped off into unconsciousness and didn’t surface until the alarm started screeching, causing the usual riot from the pack, demanding to be let out.

Still exhausted, I watch them dash out into the cloudy daylight, hesitating for only a moment before I stagger back to the bed, set the alarm for another forty minutes and crawl under the blankets for “just a few minutes more”.

The extra sleep has helped considerably when I finally do get up, prying my eyes open and carefully evading the pack that has gathered around my bed with apparent indignation of having been left to their own resources for a measly forty, bloody, minutes.

Chaos is actually staring up at me in accusation when I literally step over him to get out of the bedroom uttering an occasional yap, while Lhabana and Gada, the two lovable Labs, are bouncing up and down in front of me to get their much needed pat on the head. You’d think I’ve been gone for a day, if their behavior’s any indication.

I hurry through the morning rituals and head on down to the house, pleased to note that big brother took his time as well, and arrives ten minutes after I do.
Still in my rest days, I don’t feel inclined to do exercises today, and since no laundry has been done during the night, I have a quick breakfast, feed Yadzia, and settle behind the computer with a mug of coffee beside me in record time.

Messages and chats follow, after which I open the psychic drama file and start reading. It’s been a while since I wrote the beginning of the story, and in order to get back in the flow I’ll need to read everything I already wrote down in the past.

CNN is on, just as it is most days when we’re working on the computers, and it distracts us into a heated rant when the reporters start talking about the changing climate.

It amazes me how people still trust scientists that make all sort of predictions about when the icecaps will melt completely. I remember clearly, just a decade ago at most, when all those “knowledgeable” folks were claiming that it would be at least another fifty-to-a-hundred years before things got as serious as they did this year, but there it is. Storms raging all over the globe, temperatures out of whack, it’s visible everywhere, setting all sorts of records.

Also those that claim fluctuations to be normal and that we, as humans, have nothing to do with it…OMG. And these people went to universities, studied for this? It baffles the mind. How can a species counting more than seven billion bodies, NOT have an effect? It’s basic math, really.
If a large bunny population is crowded on too small a territory that area will rapidly disintegrate. How is this any different? Does the regular human being have more or less waste? Do bunnies drive cars; fly planes and whatnot all known and accepted as major polluters? Like I said, basic math.

Focus isn’t all that easy to find today. For some reason my mind keeps drifting off the story as I try to delve into the writing mood. Still, I manage to go through about ten pages before it is time for us to get ready to go to town.

I’m not at all looking forward to our lessons, but it has to be done, and I know it while we drive down the mountain and drop little sister off at the dentist. Once we arrive at the school we’re informed by our teacher that the computers are down, so we get two folders and a couple of test forms, and are send to the back where we are to do everything “the old fashioned way”. Pen, paper and crossing out multiple-choice answers for the next hour and a half.

It doesn’t go bad, or anything. We have done the questions on the computers often enough to get the majority of the questions right, but the mind-shift is somewhat disconcerting. In the time we usually manage at least eight tests, we now only manage four, and are feeling somewhat out of sorts when we leave the school and head to the waiting car to return home.

More than a little pleased that we did the groceries and other shopping yesterday, allowing us to go home immediately for a change.

After the familiar noisy greeting of the pack, and stuffing down a quick snack of French fries and veggies, I start cleaning up the kitchen in preparation of today’s “project”.
More tiling’s in the plans, and I’m just about done setting everything up when the sibs join me.

While little sister starts painting the recently revealed wall for the second time, middle sister prepares the glue for the tiles that I begin cutting for the last section of the floor. It takes some fancy cutting, since there are nooks and crannies, but it goes remarkably well by the time the glue’s done and middle sister cleans up the bare concrete for the actual laying.

For some reason, whenever we are trying to do something on the floor, all the dogs grow this major fascination for that particular section: Each and every one of them gathering around, crowding closer and preferably lying down on a tile we’ve just put down with quite some effort for putting it in right.
In the end we decide laying them in twos, covering them up with a board as soon as they’re down and thus saving them from being jarred by the dogs.

By the time we’re done with the floor, and halfway through the glue, middle sister and I move on to the part of the wall behind the counter that still needs to be done. With me cutting the tiles once more, she starts putting them up.

Big brother works on getting the electrical wiring for the fridges placed on the other side of the kitchen.

Since the freezer and fridge are still in their old place, big brother and I start moving them, giving room to middle sister who then continues with the wall tiles on her own.

Cleaning up the mess that has somehow gathered behind the machines takes at least thirty minutes, and we check the wiring before starting the laborious chore of moving the heavy machinery clear across the kitchen and settling them against the freshly painted wall.

There is a slight hiccup when one is in place. There are three big holes in the wall where old outlets were, and deciding to shut them, I use the leftover glue fill them up and smooth them over until they are once again part of the wall.

That done, the fridge is placed beside the freezer at last.
As soon as they’re set in place, the kitchen suddenly looks totally different. The dimensions have altered, dwarfing the rather big coolers, now that the ceiling is only a couple of feet above them. It also makes the counter cozier while creating lots of space on the other side, where a large expanse of wall has been opened up.

Cleanup. It is a big mess all through the kitchen and it takes us almost an hour to get it all cleared away. It is already past midnight when we are finally done, and I sit down to watch the final episodes of “Frasier” while discussing the vampire saga big brother and I are working on.

At long last, having caught my breath, it is time to head on up to my cabin where I feed the dogs and get ready for the night. It’s been a long day, and I can feel it in my bones by the time I settle behind the computer for a few quick chats and the Blog, of course.

I’m actually happy for the holidays for a once. It means that we won’t be going out and this will certainly allow us to just fall back into the pleasant routines of work and play without annoying interruptions.

Rest day, yay!

I woke up several times during the night–mostly due to the monster Boxer– but oddly enough I am not feeling too bad when the alarm goes off and it is time for me to get up.

The weather’s nice enough when I let the dogs out, and start on the morning rituals, knowing full well that today time is limited due to the necessary grocery shopping that needs to be done, and get to the house under an hour after waking up.

Taking in consideration that we’ll be out for hours today, big brother and I decide to take a rest day. No writing, no workout and blissfully, no laundry. After giving Yadzia his extra portion of food, I start on my own breakfast and turn on the coffee machine before I set my computer up and settle down.

Since time is limited, I spend some of it online, just having some chats on the forums and whatnot, while going over my messages simultaneously.
Big brother and I do a lot of discussing too, “the kitchen project” the next “writing project” and just about anything that comes to mind, making time fly by remarkably fast, when the sibs come down and the day starts for real.

The hour of our departure for town has arrived, and we’re all hurrying through getting ready. Little sister has decided to join us on today’s shopping spree, so we all pile into the truck and head on out.

First off is the specialty store. Some of the few extras that we like to enjoy from my country of birth are running low, so we get those before the store closes at six. Next comes the herboristeria (herbal shop) where I need to get some nutritional supplements and my monthly supply of Parteinio, which is really the only thing that keeps me from having an endless headache/migraine.

Gawd, I’m so happy I found that stuff. I don’t know what about it works so well, considering that it is basically made out of chrysantinums but it is the only remedy that managed to stop a two-year headache I once suffered from.
Nothing had helped, and God knows I tried anything from pharmaceutical painkillers, which only numbed it, acupuncture that did nothing, the chiropractor and whatnot until the lady at the shop suggested Parteinio.

Miracle above miracle it worked. Two weeks later I was astounded when I realized that the constant pounding was gone, allowing me to function normally again for the first time in TWO friggin’ years.

I’m very diligent in keeping my supply of the herbal pills stocked now. I can only do a maximum of four days without them before the headache will start up again, and if I make the error of not taking it for that amount of time, it will take up to a week of constant head-pounding before it has effect once more.

A lesson well learned, I’ll admit. Now I always have a spare bottle lying around.

But anyways, once I get the necessary supplies, we head on over to the El Corte Inglés, where we need to buy new ink for the printer.

Next comes the video store. Since we need to go to our lessons tomorrow anyway, we decide to rent a couple of movies for our viewing pleasure since when we’re not to working on the kitchen tonight.

The last store, the supermarket is up, and with two carts in front of us we start piling in the supplies that need to see us through the next two weeks. Putting everything on the checkout counter, back in the carts and then into the car takes quite some time but at last we’re heading back home, knowing full well that we’ll need to lug everything down to the house and place it in the storage still, before we can relax.

An hour later, with the last bit of yesterday’s chili filling our stomach’s big brother and I finish printing the W.I.’s for a review swap I’m doing with an author in the US before I finally flop down in an armchair and lounge with Chaos on Dax on my lap.

First movie up is “Hancock”. Either I’m not in the proper mindset, or the movie’s slow in starting up. What with me being preoccupied these days, the first could very well be the case, but once the story gets going I find myself intrigued with the concept. It is very different than I’d expected, I admit.

I didn’t find it really funny, which was what I’d presumed after seeing trailers and such, but sad, actually. There was a very intense surprise in the storyline, that had me intrigued by the time the ending came around. The premises of the story were very original, giving the “superhero” theme a rather intriguing twist halfway into the movie.

The concept surprised me, to say the least, hinting at something a little deeper which I wish the director, or author had expanded on a little. They could have let out a lot of the “fun stuff” and focused on Hancock’s past, for as far as I was concerned…that would have been fascinating.

Also, the ending was very intense, sad too.
What left me confused was that final scene at the hospital, however. I would have sworn I’d seen it before when a creepy déjà vu feeling swept through me. Almost as if I knew the exact sequence of the scene, when I know I didn’t.

Considering that tonight’s rest night, we immediately put on the next DVD. “The Dark Knight” showing a disappointing weak plot, acting that could have been done better, dragged out scenes of car pursuits and whatnot that could have done with some serious cutting. The only one who played an intriguing role was Heath Ledger, who gave and entirely new and seriously creepy flavor to the Joker role.

When I heard he was up for an award for playing the Joker in this batman role, I figured that it was just an honorary nomination due to his untimely death, but having watching him in the movie; I do have to say that acting-wise, it was brilliantly played.

I hardly recognized him, actually. His voice was completely different, his poise seriously messed up, and all in all a totally different person than he usually played.
The movie might not have been the best, but with Ledger’s playing, it remained interesting.

It’s late when the movie finishes, and I hurry on up to my cabin, chasing the dogs up and feeding them quickly. I’ve just about finished that particular chore when big brother comes scavenging through my book collection, and we end up talking for half an hour about the first movie before we both decide to call it a night and I’m left to start on my nightly session online.

Tomorrow is going to be another busy day…or at least parts of it, so with this I’ll finish today’s Blog and see if I can get to bed early for a change.

Is the day over yet?

Strange dreams this night. First there was a confusing mixture of the last episode from “Dexter” and “CSI” which confused me to some extent. And then, after the monster Boxer woke me up for the second time this morning, I think I had a dream about Posh and Becks, and them needing a nanny for their kid. They have several I believe, but in the dream there was one. Weird.

Don’t know where the heck the dream came from, considering I haven’t been a nanny in…gawd, ten years, and of course the fact that I never met, and rarely even hear about the Beckhams these days.
In the dream they did have a wonderful house, however. It was huge, halfway underground, I believe, filled with plants, large windows, wonderfully eclectic furniture, and a toddler that was really sweet.

Dreams. They’re odd things, when all’s said and done. Take this one for example. What is the use of it? I can understand interesting and adventurous dreams, I even get the scary ones, but these are about as comprehensible as daytime television.

I’m feeling pretty miserable when I wake at my usual time and shove the monster Boxer in the back and let the rest of the dogs out into the yard.
The feeling’s both physical and mental, with no way to explain it or make it go away. I’m actually close to tears, which makes no sense at all as I procrastinate through the morning rituals and then head down to the house.

What with the recent escapes of several pack-members, we planned to do some fence fixing today. Seeing my mood, grandpa and big brother don’t push for me to join them, and leave me in peace while I give Yadzia his extra meal. The poor lab has been loosing weight this past week, and starting to get concerned I use the leftover soup to poor over dog food, bread and whatever else I can find to make a big portion so I can fatten him up a little.

It takes a bit of effort to be able to separate the blond Lab from the rest of my pack, eagerly trying to sneak their way between my legs as I open the pantry door and call for Yadzia to come and eat.
I actually need to wedge Knight II against the wall with my knee, in order to get the Labrador inside without company, and stand there at the door, occasionally chancing a peek inside, for ten minutes while he devours the meal with obvious enthusiasm.

At long last he’s done, wagging his tail like mad and bouncing around me when I take the advantage of Knight II wanting to check out the empty dish by locking him up so he won’t try to bowl me over when I head out into the yard to join big brother and grandpa near the section of the fence where the holes have been made.

They’re pretty much done by the time I arrive, but I do manage to make myself useful by braiding wires through the last hole. Next grandpa and I spend several minutes on the ground, sorting out a pile of bolts and screws that have somehow ended up in the middle of our rocky dirt road, digging it all out and placing it in a plastic bag when the small box that had contained them has obviously been crushed by the truck.

I’m thinking that when we repaired the gate the other day we forgot the box and left it on the middle of the road where it stayed until we left for town on Thursday. I do faintly remember hearing a thud, without being able to identify the cause on that day.

But anyways, once we’ve saved what we can from the supply, I head back down to the house to start on today’s laundry. There’s a nice dry batch, and a wet one to hang, and I do it by rote rather than thinking about it. Routines are marvelous on days such as these, I’ll admit. They allow me not to think about anything and still do my chores.

Since I’m feeling nauseous I don’t have breakfast, and start the day on a glass of orange juice rather than anything more substantial.
The few Sunday messages get worked through after I turn on my computer, and afterwards, big brother and I go over the last few pages we changed yesterday. At long last we declare the vampire story done and I’m more than a little relieved.

Its not like the story is bad or anything. Not at all. The story’s great, but my present mood just doesn’t allow me to enjoy it.

What follows is writing a query letter and a short synopsis. It takes a solid hour, but in the end we both agree that it’s good and transfer everything to big brother’s computer so he can send the entire package out, while I half-heartedly start searching through my files to see if any of the stories draw my attention.

In the end I narrow “my next project” down to two stories. One is a paranormal, drama/thriller, about a psychic who’s reluctant to help the authorities due to some events in the past.
The second one’s a comedy romance, about a writer with disastrous luck, which has made her a famous reporter.
Tough choice, I’ll admit. I would put the question in a survey, to see which would get the most votes, so to speak, but…well, not right now. Maybe later.

Dusk has settled by that time, and I decide to do something, anything, lest I start screaming, or worse. I would call it the screamy/headbangy feeling, but that would be overstating it, I think.
Dinner. It has to be made, and since all the ingredients are available I start preparing a solid chili-sin-carne for this evening’s meal.

The power goes off halfway through the preparation and lasts for fifteen minutes before suddenly turning back on. Looks like it’s going to be another one of “those” nights, I muse while blowing out the oil lamp I lit just minutes earlier and scowl.

It takes little time, and once the meal’s done, I actually manage to choke down a small portion. I’m far too stressed out to calmly digest the food, though, and soon I head on out to the courtyard to get a bucket of soft-yellow paint, so I can start on the wall that we displayed with last night’s demolition.

The paint in the bucket is a bit thick from a full year without use, but after adding some water to make it useable, I start slapping it on the wall. I usually am rather quick at painting, but not today. Since I’m doing this particular chore with the intension of keeping myself busy, I go through the motions slowly and steadily, actually grabbing a chair for the ground level sections and just slapping the paint on.

The electricity goes off again, but I pay it little heat after I light the oil lamp again and continue to paint that way for the next ten minutes of darkness before it switches back on.

By the time I finish with the wall, both sisters have come down and we decide to start tiling the section of the floor that’s bare now that the old counter’s gone.

Back, when it was built the house was barely done with only concrete floors. Since we needed the kitchen sooner than the actual floors, we’d put it in before the tiles, leaving middle sister and me with the not-so-wonderful chore of fitting and matching new tiles into the missing sections.

While middle sister is mixing the glue I get down on the floor to clean it properly before use. There are layers of grime to scrape off, and an actual chisel is needed when I find big lumps of the old glue sticking out from the edges of the tiles already there.

It takes some time to get it all ready but in the end, middle sister takes over the actual laying while I start cutting the tiles we need to fit in. The new ones are not an exact match, but they’re close enough as slowly the biggest part of the concrete is covered.

While we’re in the midst of laying the tiles, the dogs decide to come check out why we’re working on the floor, thus making it necessary for little sister and brother to get a large board to block the part of the kitchen we’re working on. This, of course, is not something the dogs appreciate, and the majority of middle sister’s and my pack are gathered behind the board, occasionally hopping up to peer at us with miserable expressions on their faces.

Finished with the section of the floor that was planned for today’s laying, we move to the counter, and use the remainder of the glue on the cooking side of the kitchen, where small blue and white tiles will cover the wall.

It is close to midnight when we’re finally done, and the other sibs join us in the cleanup. There’s a small disaster while we’re shifting the protective board to lay it over the newly laid tiles, however. My pack is eager to join me in the large niche that was closed off for a full two hours, and while they’re crowding close, little Dax’s paw somehow ends up under the board big brother and I are putting over the tiles.

Now this wouldn’t have been a big deal if Yadzia, Chaos and Amri–all big and heavy dogs–hadn’t decided to bounce right on top of the board big brother and I just barely manage to keep from smashing right down to the floor…and therefore sparing poor Dax some serious damage.

There is a lot of noise when the Pocket Beagle (Dax) squeals, and the rest of my pack thinks that there’s some excitement going on, but in the end the paw gets freed and calm returns.

Once cleanup is done, I eat a few crackers with apricot jelly before big brother and I spend about an hour at the kitchen table discussing the possibilities for the next book project.

With the arrival of one in the morning I call it a day and head to my quarters.
Sleep. It is all I really want at this time.

Escaped dogs and...Demolition. Yay!

Not a good night. I lie awake, my mind running a mile a minute well into the early hours of morning, not finding myself drifting off until past 7 AM and am more than a little annoyed with my inability to shut my brain off.

I’m definitely punchy when the alarm screeches in my ear–easily piercing through the ear plugs–and it makes the dogs go insane, the way it usually does.
The monster boxer has woken me up four times already, my blankets are halfway down the bed, and I’m seriously aggravated when I shove her in the back yard and then make my way through the rest of the pack, making even more of a racket than they usually do.

The weather’s pleasant enough, but since the lack of sleep is having it’s effects I can’t really appreciate it as I start the morning rituals and get ready to head on down and to the house.
Laundry, the steady routine of it calms me a little, and after I’ve taken off the dry, hung the wet and shove breakfast down while standing at the counter, I feel remotely human again.

Before I start on my morning coffee and much needed cigarette, I fold the large pile of laundry I’ve deposited on the kitchen table, heave my computer bag in place, hook everything up and give my system the final boost that should get me through the first part of the day.

Messages aplenty today, but in due time, just about when the sibs come downstairs, big brother and I resume our editing session. Two more chapters to go and then we should have the latest project over and done with. Should, being the operative word here.

It goes well enough, right up until grandpa calls from his place, announcing that Prama (pointer mix) has managed to dig her way through the fence again, loosing the majority of the pack in the upper garden, while she has somehow squeezed her way through the recently fixed gate.

A disaster waiting to happen! Can you imagine what would happen if some unsuspecting person is around while the pack breaks free? Oh. My. God! Just thinking about that makes me break out in hives. Until we’ve managed to fix the fences properly–they have been up for a good ten years, and they’re showing some serious wear–the dogs are confined to the courtyard as due punishment.

Right now they are definitely too eager to roam to be trusted, especially Prama and Tadaika–the eager little bastards–who seem to be the cause every time.

The barely contained disaster-in-the-making puts a serious damper on our editing; thoughts whirling with all the trouble this event could cause, making it hard to concentrate. Still, with a lot of effort we manage to hack our way through it, finally reaching the last page…when big brother suddenly claims that one particular scene still isn’t “sitting well”.
The rest he feels confident about now, but that scene, the dialogue–he waves his hand vaguely–it is “off”…whatever that means?

Since he is unable to come up with the “right” way it is supposed to go, I get rather frustrated by the entire thing. At this point I just want to tell him to shut up, or offer something I can work with, until I finally just delete the “offensive” scene and do a complete rewrite that appears to satisfy him at last.

I still don’t know what was “off” about the first one, but don’t care at this time and try to make myself take a step back in order to look at it objectively. In the end, I decide that it doesn’t really matter in the bigger scheme of things. This scene goes as well as the first in my opinion, so if this one meets big brother’s high standards, so be it.

The new scene will need another edit, of course, but with a little luck we’ll be sending the story to a publisher tomorrow or Monday morning at the latest. What with the Holidays coming up there really isn’t a time limit, but we figure we might as well get it over with and move on to something new.

Seriously relieved with the semi-done status of the story, I shut everything down at last. Next I wrestle my way through the dogs, and head to the kitchen to recycle last night’s soup. Would be a waste to throw it out, so we might as well finish it.

I let the meal digest for a bit before heading back to the kitchen for cleanup and resuming “the project”.
The small spice drawers certainly make the whole look good, creating a rather robust image for the top cabinets as I clean up the counters and then suck in a deep breath before turning towards where the last section of the old kitchen is waiting.

It looks like a disaster area, really. Covered with tools, cases, wood and debris that have been tossed there during last night’s cleanup. It is taunting me, and–sucking up the distinct feeling of not-wanting-to-tackle the mess–I dig in.

First thing’s first: Removing everything and anything, and putting it somewhere out of the way, without putting it out of reach.
I’m most pleased when both sisters come down and join in, moving back and forth to get the tools out of the way, while I remove old cabinet doors and crawl into the open spaces revealed to see how everything is fastened. Screws, thank God!

With the rapid removal of the stuff piled on the counter, and little sister moving back to the new counter to slap on the third layer of paint on the underside of the spice drawer casings, little brother comes down too and gets to work on the oak wood frames for their second treatment with varnish.

At long last I have room to start disassembling and twist into a variety of uncomfortable positions until it’s just age keeping the old counter together.

Middle sister is just finishing up removing the last few screws around the corner, when big brother joins in too, and decide to just jerk the counter off with one mighty heave. It sends both middle sister and me scrambling back just in time before the oak wood sections of the counter come off. Age has made the glue brittle and we are able to save most of the oak for later use, should we wish to do so.

The carcasses of the cabinets are now revealed, and since they refuse to come loose, I call out a warning to the sibs–they’re removing the old shelves I’ve put aside–and bring my foot up for a solid kick against one of the old walls.
Did a slight miscalculation on the strength part, I’ll admit. Almost gave two dogs a heart attack when the section takes flight and lands a solid yard away. Hah.

Much to my surprise, the rest remains standing and it takes three more kicks before the entire structure finally crumbles. With the way the old kitchen looked there at the end, I’d figured a strong breeze would have knocked it over, but it actually took some effort. Go figure!

Bit by bit the frame is removed, at long last the high, storage cabinet in the corner is free enough for me to start removing screws and hooks. It comes down without mishap, and is removed until at long last we’ve reached the foundation/bottom.

At this point we’re all joking about the possibility about what we could find underneath the section that remains. Phrases such as; “It’s alive” and “I definitely see something moving down there,” are tossed back and forth, becoming more outlandish with every minute that passes.

There is the remote possibility of snakes, of course, which little brother gleefully points out, actually freaking me out for a bit when I see something move through a crack. It’s an old electrical wire that big brother’s yanking out on the other side, and I profusely “thank” little brother for putting the idea in my head.

There also is the rat infestation we had a few years back, and there is a distinct smell coming up from what used to be closed off completely, bearing testament of it. Rather than getting any closer than is absolutely necessary, I once again use my foot for the removal, holding my breath, just in case something jumps out.

Now, I don’t have any problems with rats. I do however have serious problems with things jumping at me when I least expect it.

Nothing does, much to all our relief when just a soft kick breaks through the eleven-year-old pressed-wood without trouble, showing only one old rat nest which is spreading a rather nasty musky smell by then. The remainder of debris and the likes are removed posthaste–a can of odor remover soon half empty, since the smell is bad and nauseates me–by the time we’re done and decide that it is a job well done.

For the first time since we build the house, we are able to see a section of unpainted wall, and it announces that the old kitchen is now truly gone. Yay!

The sibs stay for the duration of cleanup and then disappear to their own quarters to resume their most recent discovery of being able to follow piano lessons on youtube. For the past two days I’ve been listening to slow, offbeat, but rapidly improving reps of familiar pop tunes. Once my schedule clears a little, I’ll be sure to give it a try, too. I’ve wanted to play the piano since I was a toddler.

It is around eleven in the evening by then, and with the often repeated reps sounding in my ear, big brother and I apply wide strips of aluminum to the open areas between the ceiling and top cupboards, allowing us to use to tops as storage too, once we get them attached.

At long last today’s work is done, and big brother and I settle in front of the TV to watch the recorded last episode of season one of “Dexter”. It’s such a shame that this will be the last one for a while. It’s a wonderfully twisted show, but since the channel that broadcasted it terms it as “not successful” due to too few ratings, it is unlikely that the next season will come on any time soon.

I’m feeling a bit edgy by then, and though Dexter is always fascinating to watch, I’m kind of relieved when it is time for me to head on up to my cabin for the night. I don’t know where this edgy feeling comes from but it’s frustrating as heck.

Just need to feed the dogs, go through my messages and write the Blog, and then I can call it a day.