Showing posts with label Friends. Show all posts
Sharp, Glittering Things
To give you a little taste of Marta's writing (yum yum) I thought I'd post one of her fairy tales that I happen to love. Later on as the release date gets closer, I'll see if I can't post an excerpt of The Blue Jar with links and everything. But for now, enjoy!
Sharp, Glittering Things
by Marta Pelrine-Bacon
copyright 2011
Clarice possessed a fascination for sharp, glittering things. In her upstairs room she kept knives, needles, and razors hidden in a red box under her bed. Almost every one of them was stolen. Her mother couldn’t even abide the sight of cutlery and the sight of blood made her faint.
Clarice didn’t understand her mother at all. Everything had to be soft. Edges were rounded or padded. Once Clarice had gotten a paper cut and her mother had nearly banned all books. Even so, now she had to wear white gloves to turn a page.
Then there was the nightmare of birthdays. Clarice hated birthdays. Her mother spent hours at the guest list. She never crossed off a name but added and added. Every year, as the children made more friends she had to lengthen the list. Everyone in the house had to check the list so many times they could recite the names in their dreams.
A maid did all the cooking, so the children were not allowed in the kitchen and all the food was served cut into pieces for them. The children were not to lose the smallest drop of blood. Nannies and tutors were fired if one of the children scuffed a knee.
Nor did her mother sleep well. “I’ve slept enough already for several lifetimes,” her mother would say. Late at night her mother stayed curled up on the sofa and stared at the television. She watched movies and shows of other worlds and times and great adventures.
On the night of her sixteenth birthday, Clarice snuck out of her room. For years, she’d imagined being out, unmissed and unguarded, and the first step beyond the sight of the house sent a thrill through her heart.
Clarice had planned to wander. She wanted to take her time. Touch lampposts. Run her fingers along brick walls. Stop in a diner and order food that required a knife.
For her adventure she took thinnest sharpest blade from the red box and slipped in the side of boot. When she stepped out the back door, the knife’s edge pressed into her ankle, but she didn’t stop to check her skin.
The shadows of the nighttime world surprised her in spite of all the stories she’d read in preparation. She couldn’t shake the feeling the shadows were the cloaks of ghosts as if they’d been there all this time waiting for her. She decided to find a place to sit and think about her plans.
At the first bench she came to sat an old woman. Clarice had no fear of an old woman, and so she sat at the other end of the bench. She took her lipstick and a mirror out of her purse.
“That’s a very pretty shade of lipstick, dear,” the old woman said.
“Thanks. It’s called True Red,” Clarice replied. “Or something like that.”
“A good color for a girl wanting adventure.” The old woman worked at the many rings around her fingers.
Clarice laughed. “What are you doing out here at this hour? My parents always tell me the world isn’t safe for old people and children after dark.”
“You’re here too,” the old woman said. “You can’t listen to your parents and my parents have long been dead.”
“My parents are afraid of everything. Especially my mom.”
The old woman nodded. “Parents want to protect their children. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Were you like that? With your kids, I mean.”
“I never had children of my own.” She continued to twist her rings.
“Those are pretty rings,” Clarice said, feeling she should give the woman a compliment as well.
The old woman held her hands out in front of her with her fingers outstretched. The silver bands, some with stones, gleamed in the streetlight. “Thank you, dear. Though I’m really getting too old for such frippery.”
“Such what?”
The old woman smiled. “Which ring do you like best?”
“Oh. Well. That’s hard to say. But, if I had to choose, I guess I’d choose that one with the stars.” A stream of sharp-pointed stars wrapped around the woman’s gnarled finger.
“Good choice.” She slipped the ring off. “Here, dear. It’s for you.”
Clarice sat up straighter. The ring wasn’t candy from a stranger exactly, but her mother would see it the same way. “Good heavens, ma’am. I can’t take that. You don’t even know me.”
“I’m old and have no children,” the woman said. “I had a son once.” Her voice trailed off. “You’re young and have adventure waiting for you. Take it and you’ll remember me. You’ll be about the only person to do so.”
Clarice let the woman place the ring in her hand. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”
“Go on and put it on.”
“I hope it isn’t too big.” The ring rested in Clarice’s open palm.
“It will fit. I promise. On your ring finger—like you’re getting married.”
“I’m too young to get married.” Clarice wasn’t sure what to make of the old woman’s smile, but she put the ring on like she was told, and just as the old woman promised the ring felt as if it had been made for her. “You know,” said Clarice, “you don’t seem that old.”
“It’s hard for the young and inexperienced to know what they see.”
“I wish had something to give you…wait.” Clarice took the knife from her boot. “You could take this. You could use it to protect yourself.”
“Then what would you have for protection, dear?”
“Oh, I’ve got a box of knives under my bed at home.”
“That’s too far away now to be of much use,” the old woman said, taking the knife from the girl.
“So you think my parents are right then—the world is a much too dangerous place?” It seemed to Clarice the old woman was looking less and less old and strangely less womanly.
The old woman straightened her back. “What is dangerous to some is thrilling to others.”
Clarice frowned. She must be more tired than she realized. The shadows played tricks on her mind. The old woman didn’t even sound like a woman anymore. “You said you have a son.”
“Hmm.” The woman worried the knife handle between her fingers.
“It’s odd,” Clarice said. “Looking at you now, I can see what he looks like. It’s amazing, really. I could almost trick myself into thinking I’m talking to him instead of to you.”
“The eyes play all kinds of tricks in the dark, my dear.”
Clarice imagined the old woman’s voice was deeper. “Do you like the knife?”
“I do,” came the answer. “But is already has a bit of blood on it.”
“My ankle. I’m sorry. I’ll clean it off.” She reached for the blade but the woman—or rather the old woman who looked more and more like a young man—moved the knife beyond her grasp.
“What’s a moon without a night sky to shine in? What’s a sharp edge without something to cut?”
Clarice watched as the old woman stood up, straighter and taller and more assured than ought to have been possible. “I think I need to get home,” she said.
“I think,” the old woman said and leaned over the girl, “that parents can’t protect their children from everything. Danger always has a way of getting in.”
***
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A new blog
My little experiment with You Are the Muse on Thursdays hasn’t really worked. Originally I thought YAtM needed its own space, but I was too afraid to give that level of commitment when I didn’t even know if I could sustain it for a long period of time, so I left it here to see how I would do. Several weeks later, YAtM grew legs and walked out into the world.
I’m happy to announce my new blog, You Are the Muse. I’ve moved the YAtM posts from here to there and added a couple since, while I waited for the right time to tell you about it. Everything about this is different from anything I’ve ever tried before. It might not be an original concept, might not even be very important in the grand scheme of things. It might not turn into anything at all, ever, just me pissin’ in the wind here. (Hard for a lady, but not impossible. ;) I might not ever finish, but it’s asking me to begin.
I tried to box it in here where I’m comfortable but it never felt right, so now I’m trying to let it go where it wants, without a plan or even a destination. There may be many changes in the early days while I adjust course. I have a feeling I won’t be able to see the turns until I’m right upon them.
It’s funny how a blog about finding the muse within oneself seems to be coming from the outside. It might be the only way my subconscious can get around my inability to promote myself. I mean, who am I to tell other people what they should value? Am I really so audacious as to think I might make something out of this? Really? I can only do it if it’s not me doing it, that’s what I think.
And so I ask for your help on behalf of this-thing-that-is-not-me.
Here’s what I need, and you may do any of these or all, whatever you feel comfortable with. I understand you might not be interested in the subject of the new blog, but your friends might be. Anything will help.
- On Twitter: Follow YAtM on Twitter, and if you feel so moved, give a #FF shout-out
- On Facebook: “Like” the new YAtM Facebook page and share with your friends. I’ll be suggesting the page to my friends, to make it easier. Subscribe to YAtM with a FB app called Networked Blogs. It’s a safe subscription service, with no spam whatsoever. Very unobtrusive. I’ll also be sending invites for that.
- On your blog: If you think your readers will be interested, give YAtM a mention and/or put it in your blogroll. I’ll return the favor. I invite you to write your own post about creativity or the muse and tag it with You Are the Muse, or send it to me as a guest post, or both. I have two lined up, but would love more.
I think that’s a good start.
I imagine I will still post here with news of my life, but I might be a bit busy with YAtM for a little while. I would be EXTRASPECIALLY HAPPY, NO LIE, to hear your suggestions for features or improvements. This is a project for all, not just for me.
Thanks for all your support.
I gots me some cool peeps
I know I've been a little scarce around here, but the good news is that very few people are coming on purpose to look for new content. Whew. The bad news is that I've been oh so lazy in showing my gratitude for good things which have come my way in the past little while. I have the best budz on the webz, and I think I'm a little spoiled because not everybody could possibly be this lucky.
Case in point:
Yellowcat sent me this t-shirt as a prize for her little movie-lines contest. Now I have the only t-shirt from Bubba's in Oklahoma, it's safe to assume, and I wear it with pride. (Yes, I know it's backwards. Too lazy to flip it.) Thanks, Holly!
And another confirmation my blog friends are indeed flesh-and-bone people:
I helped Ian on three of these books. I was a beta on Mustang Sally and Troubleshooters (my fave) and helped him in the Amazon book contest process on Deep Six, and though I didn't work on The Archmage, he knew I'd like to have a complete set. He threw The Archmage in for kicks. These will be worth something someday, guaranteed. They're signed and everything. A very sweet thing to do. Thanks, Ian!
And these aren't the only things I've received from you guys. I've gotten snail mail from several of you, and books, and cds, and I just love getting these little pieces of my Internet friends. So now I'm thinking maybe I should have a contest and give something from my world as the prize. I'm going to really have to think about what it could be.I write, of course, and I can sketch, sort of. I don't work, so no t-shirts. I have a daughter who makes her own greeting cards and a son who draws the coolest action scenes ever. I have several writing books I could pass along. Have I mentioned anything on the blog that made you say, "If only I had one of those"?
And what could the contest be? Oh dear.
Case in point:
Yellowcat sent me this t-shirt as a prize for her little movie-lines contest. Now I have the only t-shirt from Bubba's in Oklahoma, it's safe to assume, and I wear it with pride. (Yes, I know it's backwards. Too lazy to flip it.) Thanks, Holly!
And another confirmation my blog friends are indeed flesh-and-bone people:
I helped Ian on three of these books. I was a beta on Mustang Sally and Troubleshooters (my fave) and helped him in the Amazon book contest process on Deep Six, and though I didn't work on The Archmage, he knew I'd like to have a complete set. He threw The Archmage in for kicks. These will be worth something someday, guaranteed. They're signed and everything. A very sweet thing to do. Thanks, Ian!
And these aren't the only things I've received from you guys. I've gotten snail mail from several of you, and books, and cds, and I just love getting these little pieces of my Internet friends. So now I'm thinking maybe I should have a contest and give something from my world as the prize. I'm going to really have to think about what it could be.I write, of course, and I can sketch, sort of. I don't work, so no t-shirts. I have a daughter who makes her own greeting cards and a son who draws the coolest action scenes ever. I have several writing books I could pass along. Have I mentioned anything on the blog that made you say, "If only I had one of those"?
And what could the contest be? Oh dear.
Back to work
I'll begin with a call to prayer. My regular readers are familiar with the Darcs, a husband and wife team who have been tireless supporters of me, my blog, and my writing for a couple of years now. Darcknyt and Darc'sFalcon have brought me many blessings, and I'll always be grateful for their friendship. I won't go into detail, but recession-related unemployment has made things hard on them. They still have a home for now. I wish there were something I could do, but of course I don't have any jobs to offer. All I can do is send a message to the universe that these people need help and trust that work will come in time. I'd appreciate your taking a moment to do the same.
~~~
After finishing the first draft of my WIP, I took a couple of days off to allow a migraine to run its course, as well as to fulfill a critique commitment. Ian's got a unique spin on the vampire novel and a good story to go along with it. His writing seems so effortless it makes me jealous, but I can't wait until he snags a publishing contract. This may be the right book at the right time to do just that.
~~~
So now that I'm feeling healthy and free, I'll start edits on my WIP. I have been using yWriter on this last push to the end, which is based on individual scenes--great for moving big chunks around during organization stages, and then for crafting the scenes themselves. I've had trouble with this program in the past because of this chunky quality, but for some reason it was just what I needed for this book.
However, now that I'm finished with the scenes I need to read the book as a whole, and for that I've imported it to MS Word, my standard and the industry standard, though that is relaxing. I'll make a single-shot pass, making notes and correcting typos, re-writing easy stuff as I go through and detailing the hard stuff for the next pass. My biggest trap is indecisiveness, so I've vowed to go with my gut on the hard decisions and not over-analyze. Another vow I've made is to look at the whole process through a fun lens, rather than fulfilling a duty. Duty crushes my creativity.
Hope you have a lovely weekend.
~~~
After finishing the first draft of my WIP, I took a couple of days off to allow a migraine to run its course, as well as to fulfill a critique commitment. Ian's got a unique spin on the vampire novel and a good story to go along with it. His writing seems so effortless it makes me jealous, but I can't wait until he snags a publishing contract. This may be the right book at the right time to do just that.
~~~
So now that I'm feeling healthy and free, I'll start edits on my WIP. I have been using yWriter on this last push to the end, which is based on individual scenes--great for moving big chunks around during organization stages, and then for crafting the scenes themselves. I've had trouble with this program in the past because of this chunky quality, but for some reason it was just what I needed for this book.
However, now that I'm finished with the scenes I need to read the book as a whole, and for that I've imported it to MS Word, my standard and the industry standard, though that is relaxing. I'll make a single-shot pass, making notes and correcting typos, re-writing easy stuff as I go through and detailing the hard stuff for the next pass. My biggest trap is indecisiveness, so I've vowed to go with my gut on the hard decisions and not over-analyze. Another vow I've made is to look at the whole process through a fun lens, rather than fulfilling a duty. Duty crushes my creativity.
Hope you have a lovely weekend.
Scattered bullets
It's a beautiful morning, though a cold front will be coming in this afternoon, plunging us back below freezing after a day's reprieve during which the kids played barefoot in the dirt. So let's see...what else is going on in Blossomland...
I feel like there's so much more I could be talking about, but I'm scattered. Anything you'd like to hear more about? Wanna tell me what you've got going on?
- Maggie gets her cast off Wednesday. I imagine they'll x-ray her first, but I don't see any reason they'd leave it on. She's felt no pain for a week, at least. She will have to wear the cast for her school Christmas program tomorrow. I'll probably buy a red sock to cover the bright pink, or else I'll buy her a pink Christmas dress to match.
- I finished up my final project for Eternal Press last night and sent it off to my managing editor. I'm absolutely certain the decision to leave is the right one for me at this time. I'll let you know when this vampire erotic fantasy is released in February.
- That post I did about being blocked by a friend? Well just a day or two after, one of my best friends from college reconnected with me on Facebook and salved my soul. He's a world traveler and drifts in and out of my life every few years. I'm pretty easy to find, as I have never lived outside of Central Oklahoma.
- Can't wait to see Avatar! But how come aliens are always shaped like us? Even down to the women having breasts? I'm sure it's a choice between realistic speculative world-building and concessions to characters a human can identify with. You know, because if a creature has boobs our brains supply woman seamlessly, and then they can focus on other aspects of a story. But still, it bugs me.
- So far I haven't had anybody tell me I should be linking to them, so maybe those people don't read me anymore. Thanks to those of you who checked your links.
- I will be making bourbon balls this year, and some other goodies for our Christmas night gathering, only I'll have white, milk AND dark chocolate coating on the bourbon balls, and maybe even actual bourbon if I can talk the hubs into going to the liquor store. Maybe he could also buy a bottle of wine
I feel like there's so much more I could be talking about, but I'm scattered. Anything you'd like to hear more about? Wanna tell me what you've got going on?
I'll get up any time now...here I go...
Having a hard time getting started this morning, due to a bit of a fragrance hangover from my outing yesterday. I went to OKC to see The Time Traveler's Wife with a friend, and while I was there I did a tarot reading for her. The movie was good, the reading I'm not sure about. I'm very rusty doing readings in front of a live querant, because I haven't had a real-life hang-out buddy in a long time. Years, even. It's kind of weird, hanging out with somebody just for the fun of it, with no obligation attached. I guess that may make me seem like a real loser, but I'm sure we've all gone through periods of time where we put ourselves last, and that's just what happened with me. I've never been one to collect friends like knick-knacks, and when you add in family obligations, moving around a lot and fatigue from health problems, it's easy to lose touch with people. I'm happy I have the energy now to direct toward new friendships.
I finished my long synopsis for reals on Friday and sent it off to my agent. Thanks to all my beta readers, I'm extremely happy with how it turned out, which in case you didn't know is pretty rare for me. I think the synopsis is tight and readable and, most importantly, informative--I just can't imagine how it might have turned out better.
So now I'll switch over to another project on the merry-go-round, which is editing these short stories from Eternal Press. One is almost finished, so my mini-goal for the next few days is to finish that one and get a good start on the next one. Then I plan to get the notes for my novel in order and work on that till I get stuck, and after that devote a day or two to a friend's critique, then finish the second Eternal Press story. This merry-go-round method is really working for me. Instead of thinking about how many things I have to get done and becoming overwhelmed (and possibly frozen), I can focus on one thing at a time. Although I have the same amount of work to do, it's more maneagable in smaller chunks. Duh.
Happy Monday, people!
I finished my long synopsis for reals on Friday and sent it off to my agent. Thanks to all my beta readers, I'm extremely happy with how it turned out, which in case you didn't know is pretty rare for me. I think the synopsis is tight and readable and, most importantly, informative--I just can't imagine how it might have turned out better.
So now I'll switch over to another project on the merry-go-round, which is editing these short stories from Eternal Press. One is almost finished, so my mini-goal for the next few days is to finish that one and get a good start on the next one. Then I plan to get the notes for my novel in order and work on that till I get stuck, and after that devote a day or two to a friend's critique, then finish the second Eternal Press story. This merry-go-round method is really working for me. Instead of thinking about how many things I have to get done and becoming overwhelmed (and possibly frozen), I can focus on one thing at a time. Although I have the same amount of work to do, it's more maneagable in smaller chunks. Duh.
Happy Monday, people!
The country mouse in the big city
I'm so tired, but in a good way. I visited an old college friend last night. Maybe it's just a quirk of mine, but I always expect people to look completely different if I haven't seen them in a while, and I also expect them not to recognize me. As you might expect, she recognized me just fine, and she is still every bit as beautiful and gracious as she was in college.
It surprised me how much we had to talk about. We probably have more in common now than we did back in the day. We picked up some Starbucks and pizza to take back to her apartment and got a little silly as girls can do. Of course the evening wouldn't be complete without one of my trademark inappropriate remarks, but it made my friend laugh hysterically, so I guess it may have been worth it. I don't know why I do that. I don't have the balls to pull them off. Those remarks are why I have a love affair with my delete key. Wish I had one for my mouth.
But the night was great. Jen has a strength she may not recognize but which is quite obvious to me. She projects femininity and beauty in a way I wish I could. Her apartment smelled divinely neutral and so did she, and I hope to have many more evenings just like it. (Minus the trademark inappropriate remark).
It surprised me how much we had to talk about. We probably have more in common now than we did back in the day. We picked up some Starbucks and pizza to take back to her apartment and got a little silly as girls can do. Of course the evening wouldn't be complete without one of my trademark inappropriate remarks, but it made my friend laugh hysterically, so I guess it may have been worth it. I don't know why I do that. I don't have the balls to pull them off. Those remarks are why I have a love affair with my delete key. Wish I had one for my mouth.
But the night was great. Jen has a strength she may not recognize but which is quite obvious to me. She projects femininity and beauty in a way I wish I could. Her apartment smelled divinely neutral and so did she, and I hope to have many more evenings just like it. (Minus the trademark inappropriate remark).
NaBloPoMo Day 7: You get what you pay for
You want a post every day? Then you get poorly thought out, ranty-type posts like yesterdays, which wasn't actually about personal frustration, but more of a "Why are we this way?" As far as the line about my life being devoid of romance, there wasn't anything wrong. I've just been contemplating love in general, watching things unravel for some folks around me, and gave myself a dose of reality, something I think a lot more people should do. I've been married for a long time and plan to keep it that way. No marriage is perfect, and I've expected mine to be for far too long.
So anyway, that topic is closed. Whatev.
Watched Sweeney Todd last night with the hubs. It's a musical, you know, so I expected him to call it gay and leave the room halfway through. But Tim Burton's darkness combined with Stephen Sondheim's strong, interesting rhythms made it okay for a strong, silent type like the DH. Oh, and don't forget all the spurting throat-blood and heaving bosoms. Made for machismo.
Back in the day when I was a misguided musical theater major, the songs of Sweeney Todd were a popular addition to the student body repertoire. I was surprised I didn't feel more nostalgia while watching the movie, and thought maybe I was well and truly over that time in my life. It has haunted me.
Then we watched the "making of" part, and that's when it hit me. There's no feeling like being backstage. I've always enjoyed being in plays and musicals and operas much more than watching them, and when watching, I get the most enjoyment from putting myself in their place. I've never been in a movie so I don't feel that tug with those, but anytime I see behind the scenes activity, costume changes or taking direction or vocal practice with the pianist, a stone settles in my sternum and an actual wave of nostalgia surges through me.
And yet I know it was not for me. I find now that I have little in common with very many of the people I knew back then, so reconnections with acquaintances, and some old friends, fall flat. It's a bit disappointing, but it's also a relief, in a way. It means I have grown up (sorta).
And now we are at the end of another poorly thought out, ranty-type post. You get what you pay for.
So anyway, that topic is closed. Whatev.
Watched Sweeney Todd last night with the hubs. It's a musical, you know, so I expected him to call it gay and leave the room halfway through. But Tim Burton's darkness combined with Stephen Sondheim's strong, interesting rhythms made it okay for a strong, silent type like the DH. Oh, and don't forget all the spurting throat-blood and heaving bosoms. Made for machismo.
Back in the day when I was a misguided musical theater major, the songs of Sweeney Todd were a popular addition to the student body repertoire. I was surprised I didn't feel more nostalgia while watching the movie, and thought maybe I was well and truly over that time in my life. It has haunted me.
Then we watched the "making of" part, and that's when it hit me. There's no feeling like being backstage. I've always enjoyed being in plays and musicals and operas much more than watching them, and when watching, I get the most enjoyment from putting myself in their place. I've never been in a movie so I don't feel that tug with those, but anytime I see behind the scenes activity, costume changes or taking direction or vocal practice with the pianist, a stone settles in my sternum and an actual wave of nostalgia surges through me.
And yet I know it was not for me. I find now that I have little in common with very many of the people I knew back then, so reconnections with acquaintances, and some old friends, fall flat. It's a bit disappointing, but it's also a relief, in a way. It means I have grown up (sorta).
And now we are at the end of another poorly thought out, ranty-type post. You get what you pay for.
Super-Chipper Girl
This whole thing started as my self-deprecating joke on Twitter and somehow...evolved. Darcknyt got an idea for a Super-Chipper Girl header, Falcon joined in, and the final result is what you see above. Then I bragged about my new header to Ian, who became inspired and promptly whipped me up a lady to go with the theme.
Pretty cool, huh? I'm keeping the new header for a while. It's fun.
I'm no dummy. (shut up.)
The kids are back in school, hubby is back at work, and I'm where I always was. The temp will climb to the mid-fifties today, so my guess is that most of the ice/snow will be melted by this evening. The rest will melt tomorrow when it gets in the mid-sixties.
Good thing we took advantage of the sunshiney weather yesterday to play in the snow. Neighbor Lady saw us playing outside and brought her grandkids over to play with us. Since we ere outside the fragrance wasn't too much of an issue. Whenever I caught a whiff I just moved further up-wind. I'm a be-near person, not a stay-away person, so it was weird trying to keep my distance from them.
This is the same neighbor whose daughter has been fighting cancer, don't know if you remember, and I was watching the granddaughter from time to time before I realized the smell her shampoo was a trigger for my migraines. I wish I could do more for Neighbor Lady, because she's the only one who can take up the slack with her grandchildren while their mother is ill. I appreciate Neighbor Lady's understanding. If you have a moment to spare, could you say a short prayer for the family's healing?
In other "news", I had planned to call my agent today. I'm at a crossroads, as one book is losing momentum and the new one is just starting its submission life. I emailed my list of questions to Sara almost two weeks ago, and as it became clear my email got lost somewhere, I figured she'd probably rather have a phone conversation.
Only here's what happened: I sat down to make that call at 9 a.m. my time, which would mean it was 10 a.m. her time. Got ready to dial, and the phone rang in my hand. It was my brother, checking to see if I had done a bit of business we'd talked about, which I hadn't. Time was of the essence, so I called the business, hung up, called my brother again, hung up, business was done in a half hour. Prepared to dial Sara, again the phone rang. This time it was a wrong number. Hung up. Checked email while I waited to see how it played out, if the phone would ring again. After 5-10 minutes it hadn't, so I thought about calling again, and just then my mother called. By the end of that conversation an hour had elapsed.
Mind you, I'd not had one call before I tried to call Sara, nor one since I decided not to. I've had enough experience with signs to know it's best to heed them. The call can wait till another day.
Good thing we took advantage of the sunshiney weather yesterday to play in the snow. Neighbor Lady saw us playing outside and brought her grandkids over to play with us. Since we ere outside the fragrance wasn't too much of an issue. Whenever I caught a whiff I just moved further up-wind. I'm a be-near person, not a stay-away person, so it was weird trying to keep my distance from them.
This is the same neighbor whose daughter has been fighting cancer, don't know if you remember, and I was watching the granddaughter from time to time before I realized the smell her shampoo was a trigger for my migraines. I wish I could do more for Neighbor Lady, because she's the only one who can take up the slack with her grandchildren while their mother is ill. I appreciate Neighbor Lady's understanding. If you have a moment to spare, could you say a short prayer for the family's healing?
In other "news", I had planned to call my agent today. I'm at a crossroads, as one book is losing momentum and the new one is just starting its submission life. I emailed my list of questions to Sara almost two weeks ago, and as it became clear my email got lost somewhere, I figured she'd probably rather have a phone conversation.
Only here's what happened: I sat down to make that call at 9 a.m. my time, which would mean it was 10 a.m. her time. Got ready to dial, and the phone rang in my hand. It was my brother, checking to see if I had done a bit of business we'd talked about, which I hadn't. Time was of the essence, so I called the business, hung up, called my brother again, hung up, business was done in a half hour. Prepared to dial Sara, again the phone rang. This time it was a wrong number. Hung up. Checked email while I waited to see how it played out, if the phone would ring again. After 5-10 minutes it hadn't, so I thought about calling again, and just then my mother called. By the end of that conversation an hour had elapsed.
Mind you, I'd not had one call before I tried to call Sara, nor one since I decided not to. I've had enough experience with signs to know it's best to heed them. The call can wait till another day.
