Archive for dogs

What a long, strange week this has been.

Posted in Life as it happens, writing with tags , , , on June 20, 2014 by generatedanomaly

Monday. It started Monday. I was at work and Mom called, except I didn’t take the call because I was at work and on the floor. So, I get to the office and call her back  for her to tell me that Dad is being taken to the hospital and they didn’t know what was wrong with him. I left work. I drove down to my parents’ to stay with their dogs until they got home. Which was about 8:00 Monday night.

Dad’s fine. Which is to say they still aren’t sure what happened, but that all his vitals were normal. That hasn’t stopped a distinct feeling of dread every time my phone rings. Just in case some thing else has gone awry.

I spent the night. Left there just before 8:00 Tuesday morning. Drove home. Called Mom to let her know I was home and safe. Then showered and napped. Two hours later… Just groggy as hell for the rest of the day.

Wednesday was just odd. Like I couldn’t get my head out of my ass. Went to work. Got as much done as humanly possible before saying “Fuck it. I’m going home.” Which, by the way was the end of my scheduled shift. Still, I wanted to make up part of the time I lost Monday because those two hours make far more of a difference than anyone else might suspect.

Maybe part of my problem was the complete lack of work getting done, or, more to point, the lack of proper prioritization of what needed to be done. Stuff that should get done in a timely fashion is ignored for things that don’t matter as much, and wouldn’t be important if we managed to get things done when they were scheduled. But that’s a different rant.

Thursday. Work. Again. Go in. Bust ass. Get stuff done, but still, just an emotional wreck, like there’s so many unresolved things just hanging over my head. But, mostly, it was because I hadn’t had a day to properly disengage from the world. Tuesday was my first day off and that was spent being exhausted. Today is my second one.

Today. I get a text message asking if a rumor is true. So, I do some poking and find out that it was. My boss is no longer with the company. There are a lot of mixed feelings there that will get sorted out when the dust settled. On one hand it sucks. On the other, maybe things will move a bit more smoothly now. We won’t know until we get there. What I do know is that I’ve managed to get more writing done today than I have all week and that makes me feel amazing. And with that comes the realization that if I can write, then the rest of life will sort itself out because maybe I’ve already found my secret to happiness.

My adventure from last week.

Posted in writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 17, 2011 by generatedanomaly

It’s been a busy week/weekend type thing. The Boy went to New York Comic Con while I stayed home. Wednesday was great, if not a little disjointed. I missed him sure, but having access to the television to marathon Midsomer Murders and play video games at my own behest was rather fun.

Thursday I went on the long two-hour journey to my parents’  house where we took my car to her mechanic for its inspection and oil change. I like taking it to him because I know he’s not going to screw me over with random little things. If it’s not going to kill me, he won’t tell me it needs to be fixed. So, what we assumed to be horrible problems and expensive, I got away with fixing for less than $50 and the thing that is a problem, Mom and Dad are going to fix for my Christmas present.  (If I haven’t mentioned lately, I love my parents.)

Also on Thursday, I got to help Mom wrangle her beef cows. Really, it involved a lot of me staying out of the way while Mom lead them through the barn with a bale of hay. My Mom is the only person I know who has trained beef. The entire point of wrangling them was to have one pregnancy checked, which the cow is, so the cow gets to stay a cow and not become hamburger.

So, I spent the night down there. I had a couch companion while I slept. The smallest beagle, Honey. She insists on sleeping on the couch with me and she’s lost a lot of weight since the last time I spent the night. Good for me in that she takes up less space. Bad for me in that she no longer makes the raspy, wheezy noise while she sleeps (good for her) and I thought she was dead when I woke up at 2am. (She’s fine, by the way. Other than being the smallest of Mom’s six dogs.)

I spent Friday hanging out waiting to help drive back vehicles from the mechanic’s since as long as I was down, they could get work done on the truck and Dad’s car and be able to bring both home at the same time. I tried writing. The dogs tried helping. For the record, as awesome as Mom’s dogs are, they’re not good writing helpers.

Friday night, it was back home, in the dark and the rain. I forget how quickly we lose daylight after the solstice. Sort of like how I forget just how early my parents get up in the morning and how most the time I’ve only been asleep an hour or two when they’re getting up for the day.

Saturday, or Saturday, you were full of wasted opportunity. My strange listless behavior and not knowing what to do with myself. I existed. That was my big goal for the day, existing. It worked out all right.

Yesterday, I dove into the productivity to distract myself from waiting for The Boy to get home. So many revisions happened and some new work on the novel. I combined the spread sheet with post-it note lists because I was focusing so much on getting writing done that I was forgetting to send it out into the world.

Today, so far, I’ve made a good go at my list. I already sent a story out for submission. I have a novel query I’m sending out today. It’s exciting and nerve-wracking.

Today is special for another reason. It’s Mom’s birthday. My Mom, the first person to put up with my bullshit and the first person to call me on it. I’ve learned a lot from her about being human, some good, some bad, but there’s always a lesson. Happy Birthday Mom. Thank you for supporting me through the bad decisions and being the awesome person that you are.