The Ideal Day

ideal adjective existing only in the imagination; desirable or perfect, but not likely to become a reality.

Some women's idea of an ideal day is one filled with activities. Maybe lunch with girlfriends, shopping, a spa treatment, more shopping and probably chocolate. I can agree on the chocolate for sure. And the spa treatment, shopping and lunch with girlfriends is great, but those things would not be part of my ideal day.

This is my ideal day: It's raining hard enough that I can hear it on the roof and windows. I sleep until I feel like getting up, maybe 7:30 or 8. (Because it's my ideal day and I don't want to spend the whole thing in bed.) I get up to a spotlessly clean house and do my 30 Day Shred DVD work-out, eat some breakfast, drink some water, check my e-mail, and then take a shower. I get dressed in a comfy pair of jeans, long sleeve shirt and some very cozy socks. Then I grab my fuzzy blanket and some chocolate and a stack of books and start reading. Oh, did I mention there is a fire in the fireplace? After a few hours of reading, I might doze off for a nap. Or not, if the book is really exciting. Then I would read some more. I might have a salad for lunch sometime around 1 or 2, then go back to reading. I would go out to dinner with the family (just because this is ideal and going out to dinner with the family is most definitely something that exists in the imagination these days.) Then I would come home and get ready for bed and read until I fall asleep.

Doesn't that sound wonderful?

Everything I do, I do to reach that ideal. I clean, I make freezer meals, I try to be efficient, and I don't schedule too many outside activities, all in hopes that I can get closer to that ideal.

I was under the impression that when school started, I would have that ideal day, at least 2-3 times a week. (Well, not the going out to dinner part, and the rain part is pretty much just icing) I thought after the first few days of reclaiming the house from the summer chaos, I would have hours, upon hours of time to read. I even had a stack of books from the library, ready to go in anticipation.

Now, I am just finishing week 3 of the school year and so far, I have yet to find my big block of time. I just don't understand how I could be so busy? And for the life of me, I can't even tell you what I've been doing. And it hasn't been Facebook because you know I haven't been doing that for the last 2 weeks. It's just a lot of little things and they add up to me not seeming to reach my ideal.

Today, I thought, would for sure be a day of leisure. There is nothing on the calendar, except an orthodontist appointment for Ethan. But running errands became a lot more complicated than I thought it would be, and took a lot more time.

The good news is, all those errands are out of the way which leaves tomorrow as another potential ideal day. And if not, then I'll surely get one next week.

Although something tells me, it's not likely.

In Which Looking at Pictures of Baked Goods Does Not Fix My Writer's Block

I'm thinking, I'm thinking, I'm thinking.

I'm supposed to be writing--fine tuning the first 25 pages of my work in progress to submit to a contest that I've been meaning to enter since January.

I'm also supposed to be writing because it's part of my 2 hours a day for the Game On! diet. I love the Game On! diet. Love it with the heat of ten thousand burning calories, I do.

Instead, I'm looking for google images of "writer's block" and trying to see if pictures of pumpkin cheesecake brownies will inspire me to figure out some dialogue that doesn't sound completely stupid. I'm also listening to my 12 year old hum Christmas Time is Here in his bed.

He makes it so easy for me to tell when he is feeling melancholy.

But I'm not getting actual words down on the page. There is no revision happening. It's just a lot of thinking. And being stuck. But I'm pretty sure this still counts, right? I can't be expected to type 80 words per minute for 2 straight hours. (Yes, as a matter of fact, I can type 80 words per minute). Part of the "2 hours of writing" has got to be thinking. I am working on it. I'm for sure going to get my 25 pages submitted by Friday. This Friday. I mean it.

Still, I'm stuck.

Because I don't want to scrap the whole scene and come up with something different. But I might have to. So I guess I'm kind of putting off the inevitable. However, it's still possible that my inaction will fix the problem. Isn't it?

I've got about 30 more minutes of my 2 hour writing block and I'm NOT going to spend it looking at recipes for Nanaimo bars. Because that would really not be using my time wisely and, did I mention I love the Game On! diet?

I Forgot

This morning I've been watching a 9 month old little boy for a neighbor while she gets 2 hours of dental work done. I'm not sure who is in more physical pain.

OK, I'm kidding. I'm sure it's her.

He's been crying for about 90 minutes. He stopped crying long enough to poop, then started up again. He seems to cry more when I approach him or look at him. He's exhausted. I don't know why he doesn't pass out on the floor.

I've been armed with Craisins and cheerios and frozen baby yogurt in tubes. He wants nothing to do with any of it. I've shown him Hot Wheels and Rescue Heroes and books and blocks. No luck with those either. I've walked him around the kitchen-familyroom-livingroom loop like 20 times in a row, doing my special bouncy walk (registered with the Ministry of Silly Walks) and that only resulted in me getting a snotty, slobbery spot on my shoulder.

There is a mental shut down that takes place once all logic fails. Once you've tried everything, and despite it all, the baby is still screaming. For the stay-at-home mom, this mental shut down is a life saver. A happy place, so to speak where you can actually tune out the crying and find some level of peace for a few precious minutes. It's a tenuous peace, almost like a soap bubble, floating through the dog park with hundreds of snapping dog jaws vying to be the one to break it.

I forgot about that mental shut down. It's not only self-preservation at its best, it also helps preserve the species. (I'm not afraid to say it).

At first I was gratefully surprised at how, after all these years, my mind was able to so quickly shut down. That glossy look probably returned to my eyes, and I was able to answer phone calls with a cheeriness that bordered on creepy. (Because shouldn't I sound a little more harried with a screaming baby in the background?)

After a little introspection, I realized that happy place had been visited by me more recently than I'd first thought. I recalled last Sunday and the Battle For The Sticky Hand which had lasted for hours and never come to a resolution. At the end of the day Robert mentioned how awful it had been with all the fighting and arguing and crying. "Had it?" I thought. I'd spent the morning in bed, reading and quite enjoyed myself.

Maybe the mental shut down is why women live longer than men.

Speaking of Banning Books

I ordered Soup by Robert Newton Peck from Amazon to read to my boys. I seem to remember my mother speaking highly of this book and my brothers loving it. I was sure it was a classic boy book that my boys would love as well.

The Amazon reviews might have said, "A True American Classic" and "Whimsical and Amusing," but I found myself having to explain more and more to my boys, and even getting a little shocked at this book set in rural Vermont in the 1920's.

Here's how it went:

Chapter One:

Me: See, in the old days, parents used to spank their kids with a leather strap or belt.

Kids: (Eyes huge) Parents can't do that now, right?

Me: Well, they probably shouldn't. And also, sometimes, when you went to school, the teacher could spank you or hit you with a ruler.

Kids: (Eyes huge)

Me: And sometimes, a neighbor could spank you if you made the neighbor mad, or they could just grab your head and shake it hard.

Kids: Really?

Me: It was the old days. And evidently the school nurse--they had school nurses in the old days too--used to have to check your head for lice every day and ask you if you pooped. "Moved your bowels" is the way they said poop in the old days.

Chapter Two:

Me: In the old days, little boys used to carry knives. You are not to carry a knife.

Chapter Three:

Me: Please don't ever stick bugs up someone's nose, and you probably shouldn't tie people to trees either. And you should NEVER tie a rope around someone's neck. Ever!

Chapter Four:

Me: I can't believe I'm reading this to you! You are not to carve out acorns to make pipes, ok? I can't believe I just read about how a 10 year old boy learns to make his own pipe and smoke!

Chapter Five:

Me: (Self-editing on the fly so I don't have to say, "The old man told Ally Tidwell that it was alright to put a stone in the middle of a tinfoil ball and cheat old Diskin, because it wasn't really so bad to cheat a Jew." Not doing a good job at self-editing.)

I was somehow under the impression that I was raising free range children. I let them explore and play outside until dark and make up games and climb trees and get dirty. But I make them wear helmets when they ride bikes and insist that they treat others kindly and definitely not smoke! And what kind of idiot would give a 10 year old boy a pocket knife? If he accidentally brought it to school, he could get kicked out.

It's easy to romanticize the old days, but when I think about all the spanking and pipe smoking 10 year olds, and the idea that it was OK to cheat someone because of their religion or heritage, I think I'll take the politically correct 21st century.

On the other hand, I am getting tired of all the knee-jerk reactions society has to issues big and small that bring about Rules For Safety that end up limiting most everyone and only ever provide an illusion of safety.

Can't we have a good old fashioned bake sale where moms actually make baked goods instead of being required to purchase store bought, prepackaged garbage?

Let's get our kids Pen Pals (and not just in the classroom down the hall) and make them write actual letters, with pens. On paper!

Don't ban paper airplanes at school. Has anyone EVER had their eye poked out from a paper airplane?

What else should we bring back?

How To Write Compelling Characters

Oh dear! I've signed up for something and it appears I'm way out of my league.

Monday I discovered Elana Johnson's blog. It was a fabulous little discovery that lead to many other little discoveries that has turned into quite the mother lode of writerly information. Ms. Johnson had issued a writing challenge for this Friday (that would be today!) to blog about writing compelling characters.

Since I've made a goal to write for at least 2 hours a day, and since I thought it would be great to have something to write about, and to read other blogs that had written about the same thing. I signed up. Then I forgot.

But then I remembered, and as I read the posts of the other bloggers participating in the challenge, I realize (gulp) that I am sure I don't know what I'm talking about. My fiction writing is in it's infancy. More than that, it's in its embryo stage. A stage where I look at what I've written, edit, edit again, order style manuals from Amazon Marketplace and edit again, and then decide that what I have, in the words of Steve Martin, is pure drivel.

So here I am, feeling a bit silly as I'm not a published writer, or even a writer with a finished manuscript, (at least not one that I'm not considering heaving into the mucky duck pond down the path). Still, I'm going to give it a shot.

One character I happen to love is DJ Schenck from the young adult series, Dairy Queen by Catherine Gilbert Murdock. DJ is flawed. She's got this shyness that is at times, paralyzing. She's not to hot with the communication skills either. It seems she will do anything to avoid the spotlight.

What makes her so compelling is that DJ is forced to face these flaws because she's a gifted athlete and hard worker who is respected and admired by just about everyone who knows her. Not a great way to stay out of the spotlight.

Throughout the series, I found myself aching for, shouting at, sympathizing with, and cheering for DJ all because of this conflict between her flaws and her strengths.

When a character can get me to be that emotionally invested, that's when I'm compelled.

Here's a link to everyone else who participated in the challenge.

Things I Learned Today

1. Newsies is going to be a musical. Wait. I thought it already was a musical. The best musical ever. I guess they are making it a Broadway musical. Cool. But it won't be the same with out Christain Bale and super cute David Moscow. Sorry, but it won't. (College roommates, how much do you suppose we spent at the dollar theater seeing this movie?)

2. Sesame Street is just starting it's 41st season. I do not see how this could possibly be true because Sesame Street's first season was the year I was born, and I'm not...oh. Yes, I am. Here's my all time favorite clip from Sesame Street. I wanted that doll house, but especially the 2 little spoons.

3. You may know that a group of crows is a murder and a group of penguins is a parcel, but what about a group of trolls or mummies? Fear not! Geekologie has posted a list of supernatural collective nouns. And it's disturbingly thorough. Now I know that it's a malevolence of trolls and a liberty of mummies. Also super good to know: a group of Jedi is a jake. But why do they list the Yeti in the Wildlife Class, but Bigfoot in the Monster Class? Furthermore, why do we need to know that the collective noun for a group of Bigfeet is a ruminance. Sorry, there's only one Bigfoot. No need for a collective noun OR a plural designation. (Even if there were more than one Bigfoot, everyone knows they are solitary, shy creatures and would never go around as a group.)

4. Morning naps are fabulous. I see no need to elaborate.

5. The book Where's Waldo is a banned book. It's banned books week and our library has a poster with lots of pictures of banned books. I know about Harry Potter and Catcher in the Rye and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn being banned books. But Where's Waldo? The link I included earlier explains it, but this list from Amazon has even more banned kids books and the reasons why. Some I can understand, but banning the dictionary because it contains objectionable words like bed, knockers and balls? Some people have too much time on their hands. However, I totally agree with the crazies for banning The Giving Tree, just not for the reasons they state.

6. After 7 seasons, The Office has still got it!

Poor Locavore

It happened gradually, but it appears I've turned into a locavore. I'm not 100% locavore: I still buy some food, like cold cereal, that is made in a factory several states away. But slowly, I've been adding more local, whole foods to my family's diet. And I'm not sure how this happened because I was not a big fan of Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. I found it elitist and impractical. Maybe it started when I read Michael Pollan's Food Rules, a moderate, common sense look at how we should eat.

I remember the spinach recall from 3 or 4 years ago. At the time I was eating fresh spinach daily and the fact that I could not find a fresh spinach leaf to save my life really threw a wrench in my day. Of course getting e coli from a tainted fresh spinach leaf wouldn't have been too hunky dory either. I realized that it would be very simple to grow my own spinach at home. I'd have an endless supply and I'd know exactly where it came from, all for around $2 for the cost of seeds.

I'm not a proponent of organics. I think its fine if farmers use pesticides to increase crop production. Sometimes it seems the term "organic" is simply another way of saying, "more expensive." In addition, organic food production ultimately ends up adopting the same practices of the big food companies because you simply can not produce food on a large scale and use small scale farming and production practices.

I'd rather have my food come from a local, responsible farmer than be organic.

I just want my food to be real food, not from a factory. And if my food is grown or produced locally, I know I'm getting the freshest, best tasting, most healthy food for my family.

Don't come running over here to open my pantry and point out that I'm a hypocrite because I have Jell-o and a box of graham crackers. And lots of cold cereal. Like I said, I'm not 100% there and I probably won't ever be 100% there. It's not important to me to make a statement with my locavoreishness. I don't care what you eat in your home. I don't want to judge you, just like I don't want you to judge me for putting Uncrustables in my kids lunch boxes from time to time.

I have come to enjoy knowing where my food comes from, and knowing that it didn't get made in a factory. (Tip #19 in Pollan's Food Rules, "If it came from a plant, eat it. If it was made in a plant, don't.)

The problem with being a locavore is it can get pricey. Take, for example, my milk (pictured above). This is a half gallon of 2% milk, pasteurized once, not homogenized, in a glass bottle (did I also mention I am trying to get away from plastic mixing with my food?) and delivered once a week. I might be a bit of a romantic, but when that milk comes on Wednesday afternoon, I like to think that it was from a cow that was milked that morning. It makes me happy thinking that I have a local, fresh product.

Now here is the shocking part.

For 4 half gallons of milk, I pay (I'm having a hard time admitting this) sixteen dollars. $16!!! And since the minimum order for weekly delivery is $18, I usually add on a dozen farm fresh eggs for $5.

How can I afford to keep buying this milk? I feel absolutely crazy for buying it and every week I think I'm going to cancel the service, turn in my glass bottles and be done with it. But then I think, "I'll cancel next week."

I know that $8 a gallon is not too astronomical for organic milk. And it's delivered. But I don't care about "organic." I just like that it is local and fresh and not over processed and not in plastic.

I just don't think it's worth it anymore.

It's too expensive to be a locavore.