OSWDMMG??

For visually challenged, it's Oh shit where did my Monday go.

It went the same place almost every day has gone starting with Wednesday. Actually, it started before Wednesday, but that was the day I noticed something was off. Really off. I talked to a friend on Wednesday. I'd only had two hours sleep. I couldn't go back to sleep and I couldn't wake up either. Said friend told me to get my arse back in bed. Okay, that wasn't exactly the language used. It was more like, "man, you have plenty of hours before you have to go to work. Take a nap." I did...about a four hour nap. And I needed every second of it.

Wednesday night/Thursday morning was a bitch. Not the worst, but for some reason it hit me harder than busy nights usually hit me. When the 6 a.m. crew rolled in, I stumbled out. But I had a few things that I had to take care of before I could go to bed. I had a letter to write that had to be post marked on Thursday. I really needed to get the dissolution and settlement papers sent to Homer so they could be filed. I'd signed them over two weeks ago, it was time to get them on their way.

So about noonish, I'd finished at the post office and came home and crashed. I know I woke sometime on Thursday afternoon/evening. When? I don't really know. But I didn't stay up very long. As it turned dark outside, I was back in bed, sleeping. And coughing. And coughing. And coughing.

Friday morning I woke pretty early. After dinking around for a few hours, I called to set up an appointment with Pete in a couple weeks. Oops. Pete had an opening Friday afternoon. What the hell. I scheduled a one o'clock with him, and ignored the zillion cats trying to claw their way out of my throat and the coughing and the floating head syndrom.

By the time Pete finished with me, I looked at him and asked, "Is there anything in this world that a trim, dye job and divorce can't fix?"

Well, yes, there is. To make the rest of this somewhat short, I went to bed at 8 p.m. Friday night and got up at 5 a.m. this morning (Monday). In the hours inbetween Friday and Monday, I spent about 12 of them awake. My legs aren't rubbery now. My head isn't floaty. My throat feels much better. But two hours and one shower later and I'm thinking it's nap time again. I really want to go to work tonight. It's bad enough wasting my days off being sick. It's worse using paid leave for sick days.

A day late and a novel short

Today I discovered that right now agents and editors love, love, love books with heaven and or hell in them. Isn't that special. The project I started over a year ago is now a hot, hot, hot trend. Too bad all I did was just write the first few pages.

Sure I could crank out pages, but they'd be sucky pages.

The way I learned this is another writer completed a first draft of a book set in the afterlife. She said it was the toughest book to write yet. World building is really tough.

Yeah, I know. That's what got to me. It's a whole new world and the rules have to be consistant. And anyone who knows me, knows the one thing I'm not is consistant. I like changing the rules as I go along, which doesn't work in this situation.

And right now I'm not sure if I have the time or energy required to actually make...ya know...rules for the new world of the afterlife.

Secrets

Especially family secrets. Are they in every family?

I know to an extent they are. But does every family have a secret that continues to tear it apart, generation after generation?

It's one thing to watch a family secret shred the lives of my generation. It's another when that same fucking secret is impacting the lives of my children, my nieces and nephews, and their children.

Has anyone ever found a way to stop the destruction of a family secret caused? If so, how?

Above the mountain tops

On the way home this morning I stared in awe. I saw the tops of the mountains. I saw empty space between the mountain tops and the gray overcast clouds.

The last day that it didn't rain and the skies were blue was July 28th. The time before that? I don't remember. But it was at least two weeks.

It stopped raining sometime yesterday, August 19th, between 0930 and 1600. This is the longest stretch without rain since July 28th. I'm almost hopeful that today might be a rainfree day.

I know I need to get to sleep so I can work tonight. But everything in me wants to change clothes, drive over to Auke Bay and go out whale watching. They leave in two hours and they won't get back until after 1900 tonight. I have to sleep. I don't want to sleep.

I look at my pay stub. I have the hours to take a sick day. But I'm not sick. Except I was. I was sick of the rain and the low clouds.

Right now the clouds are high in the sky. There's so much to see. Which means there has to be so much to do.

I'm going to bed. Please let the day be as gorgeous when I wake up. Please, please, please.

The one that got deleted.

The title: Thanksgiving 1981.

I can see Lori now. Her eyes are wide, her mouth has hit the desk and she's chanting, "oh, fuck," over and over and over again, but there's a small flicker of a smile on her face.

There's a huge smile on mine.

There's a light at the end of the tunnel. All I have to do is get through it. Man, I hate tunnels. I hate anything that confines me.

Once I get through this damned tunnel, if I round the curve and see another one, I'm going to be one pissed off bitch. That's a promise.

OSIM Monday

Yes, it's "Oh shit it's my Monday" time.

Friday and Saturday are slow ship days. Nope, I don't mean that only really slow ships come to town. I mean there's usually on one large ship docked at a time. The other days usually have three to five docked at a time.

This ship isn't one of the largest I've seen. It's about average.

So, nothing serious today. Nothing funny. Hell, it's my Monday. There's nothing funny about Mondays. Really. Honestly.

But for three nights I was able to sleep while it was dark and I miss sleeping in the dark. But that's for another time.

My mother

I never planned to write about this.

I took pictures yesterday and I was going to post them.

But a few minutes ago, life changed. I found out a friend is with her mother now, holding her mother's hand as she dies.

It's reminded me of that time in my life. Ten days before my mother died, my oldest brother called me. He told me Mom had signed up for hospice. We all knew the cancer had spread and things weren't looking good, but signing up for hospice made it all so real. While nothing had changed, everything had changed. We no longer had the luxury of hope that she'd beat the cancer. It was official. Our mother was going to die. Then my brother explained why he called me, my parents had decided they weren't going to tell me that Mom was in the final stages.

I was almost as stunned with that news as I was with the actual fact she was truly dying.

A few minutes later, Dad did call me. He admitted that at first they weren't going to tell me, but in the end, they realized I needed to know. Finally, it was time to talk to Mom. I begged her to let me come back. She was firm. No. I was to stay where I was and continue on with my life. Then she did what she had always done so well, she turned into my mother. "You can't change anything here. But if you come back, you'll change everything there."

And she was right. Had I gone back, it would have set my education back a year. Which would have ended it for me. I would have quit school. She knew it even if I didn't at the time.

That last year was hard. There were times my degree felt like a double edged sword. There were days that the only way I could get up in the morning was to make her death meaningless. Before she died, my education was for me. After she died, the only reason I finished was for her.

She knew what it would cost me to stay in school and not be with her during those last days. I knew what it would cost her for me to not be there.

And no one will ever make me question that again.

There were so many things my mother taught me and gave to me. She taught me how to laugh. She gave me her strength. She taught me the beauty of forgiveness when she asked me to forgive her. She taught me the joy of learning how to trust again when I had no reason to trust. She taught me how to not only love, but to accept love.

She taught me it's okay to not have all the answers, or even most of the answers. She taught me how to pick myself up and go on. She taught me how to hang on like a pit bull it's required and how to let go when it's the best thing to do. She also taught me how to tell the difference.

And together we taught each other that it's more than okay for a parent and adult child to also be close friends.

The only thing left for her to give to me was my financial independance. Which was why Mom and Dad struggled with telling me she was going to die. She knew if she denied me being with her as she died, I'd turn into the pit bull and sink my teeth into finishing school. And just like a pit bull, I wouldn't have any idea why I was doing it, but I'd know that I had to.

Yeah, even on her deathbed Mom could be a little bit manipulative. It was the pit bull in her.

One of these days, I'll have to let go and forgive the person who spent years trying to tarnish her in my eyes. But not yet. Right now it's giving me the strength to do the things I must do to get my life back on track.

In time, my friend will fall back on all the little lessons her mother taught her. She'll get through this. It will be one of the hardest things she's ever had to do, but my friend is strong, courageous and will be fine.

Eventually, she'll realize what I've realized, to do justice to these wonderful women who gave us so much in life, the only way we can repay them is by living the life they gave to us.

So, here I am, on the bicycle of life, peddling past Mom. "Hey. Look at me," I shout at her. Then I toss my hands into the air. "No hands."

She shakes her head at me. "It's about time you trusted yourself and just let go."

Yeah, isn't it?

The things we take for granted

In the last twelve hours, I've had the luxury of experiencing two things I wondered if I'd ever experience again.

The first is something most Alaskans face in the summer time, but not this time of year. For the first time since since the beginning of summer I was able to go to bed while it was dark outside. It was great! I've missed sleeping in the dark. And shades on the window just isn't the same. True, I only slept for about four hours, but it was four hours in the dark of night. Yes!!!!

Which might or might not be directly related to the second thing I've done with great ease today. I've started over on an old project. From scratch. I have over 300 brand new words. Plus...I have what will probably end up being the query letter, meaning I know going in what the theme is, the conflict, both internal and external, and where this story is heading. It's also a decent beginning to a synopsis. Yay!!!!

Sleeping at night and writing are two things I used to do without even thinking about them. My dear, dear, dear friend Annalou has told me at least a zillion times that it would all come back to me. But I didn't really believe her. I knew I had lost the ability to write. I knew the words wouldn't come and the characters would start acting like surging hormonal teenagers. Completely uncontrollable. But...I started with a tentative first page. It sucked. So, I paced the floor. Thought about taking a shower and had the first sentence just pop into my head.

I rushed to the computer where the crappy beginning stared at me. I quickly typed in the first sentence. Which lead to a second sentence. And before I knew it, I had the first page. Okay, I could finally take a shower.

In the shower, I edited that page. Not literally, but in my mind. The POV was all wrong. This story was all wrong in first person. It would only work in third person. When I sat down with it again, I saw all the spaces where I used ten words when two did the job. Delete, delete, delete.

Hey, three hundred and fifty more pages and I'll be done. Okay, I can't look that far ahead right now. With any luck, by the end of the day, I'll have close to a short chapter finished. If not, there's tomorrow to finish the chapter. Then I can spend the rest of the week editing the first chapter.

When I go out in a few minutes, I'll stop by Freddies and get a poster board and colored post it notes. That way I can track the characters and plot by just glancing at the poster board.

Life is good. Very good. I've missed the characters talking to me. For the last year they've been silent. But they're talking again. Right now, they're not too happy with me. The conversation goes something like this: "What? You want to go shopping? At a time like this?"

"Yes, I need to get a few things. You know little things like milk, caffiene, etc. If you expect me to listen to your constant whining, I must have a few things in the house to keep me going."

"You can't go shopping now. You've only started listening to us."

"Really, it will be okay. I'll be back in a few hours and I can pick up where you left off. After all, you aren't so out of control you won't remember where you left off, right?"

"Don't. Go. Shopping."

"Is that an order?"

"Yes."

I reach for the mouse.

"Wait. I wasn't serious. Please don't turn off the computer. It's all dark here when you do that. We'll be good."

"You're so pathetic."

"Hey, if you're really going shopping, don't forget the chocolate. You're so much nicer when you've had your daily dose of chocolate. And maybe you could find the Gnarls Barkley cd."

"Good bye."

"No. Don't shut off the computer."

"God you're such a weak shit."

"Am not."

"You are too."

"Fuck you. See, I'm tough."

"Just because you can say fuck you, doesn't mean you're tough at all. It usually means you're not only weak, but have a very limited vocabulary."

"Bite me."

"And to think out of all the characters running around in my brain, I picked you."

Trust me, writing is not for the weak. Next time I'll tell you when I threatened my characters with celibacy...in a saga no less.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Ya think?"

"Sex sells and you know it."

"So does torture."

"Gosh, haven't you lost a few pounds? Didn't you do something with your hair? You're looking pretty good now days."

"Flattery will get you--"

"Laid?"

"No. It won't get you anywhere."

Okay, off to get my errands for the day out of the way.

It's great to feel like I'm finally back.

Yay and bummer

First the yay! Lori's back in blogger land. Damn, girl, you had me worried. Okay, not too worried, but a little. It's not like I didn't have any idea what was going on in your life. But still, I missed my fix.

Bummer. My buddy Nick is having problems with his email. That's because he's still stuck with Outlook. Nick, this is the best link I'll ever give you. Use it. Honestly. This is the best email program. I've used it for years. They have a web browser, too. Friends don't let friends use Outlook.

I've been issued a challenge. One hundred words a day. Come on I can do a hundred words a day. No problem. But doing a hundred words a day that includes motivation, goals and character...that's not near as easy. What the hell. I think I'll do it.

I have one scene already mapped out. I guess that's the place to start, even though it's not the beginning or the end. But it's the tone. It's the story I want to write. People settling for less than. People accepting crumbs when they know there's so much more. They say write what you know. Well, as one who until a few days ago was content with the crumbs of life, I guess I know that a little too well.