As I’ve run pell mell into Christmas (just wait until Sunday – if you listen real carefully you’ll probably hear the splat of me against the window) without too much more than time for a hitching breath (ever try and make cookies without all-purpose flour?). Writing and all that goes with it necessarily fell outside my grasp. Few things say impossible for a concentration necessary activity quite like having to make the bread your kid can eat (even if it is a mix – feh), trying to entertain and educate said young child, while trying to feed/change/clothe an infant. Did I mention that hubby owns and runs a retail store? And that it’s almost Christmas? I’m pretty sure I could be diagnosed with ADHD if someone took a peak in on my daily life right now.
My previous goal of getting up three posts a week while I also tend to my very neglected other blog is being downgraded to only a couple. It’s not that I don’t like blogging, I actually love it, I just REALLY want to finish the wip I started more than a year ago. Not to sound arrogant or anything, but the writing is quite good and I long to engage in that exercise again. Pretty sure the need for adult conversation even if it is imagined (I don’t count the real ones I have with myself) might also be aiding and abetting this itchiness. Although, truth be told, inspiration has also recently been found through both a writing group I attend on Monday nights (yeah for getting out of the house!) as well as the current book I’m reading: The Handmaid’s Tale. Well, that and the desire to form a complete thought that might span more than 30 seconds is becoming very vital. For EVERYONE in my house. They just don’t really know it. Because I am only screaming on the inside. Occasionally it gets kind of loud and can be heard outside the confines of my own cranium, but not too often.
I will be doing my absolute best to be getting around to everyone’s blogs again (and will suck it up and open up that email account where all my blog subscriptions, etc, are routed to) and only ask that you please forgive me if I am not particularly timely in my appearances.
On that note (as the dairy sensitive infant heralds my attention thanks to that one piece of cheese I consumed last night in the vain attempt at thinking she was past it) I must be off. Have a very happy and merry holiday!
My child was anemic at the time of his third year check up. He had all the hallmark signs of the iron deficiency- pale, lethargic, dark circles under the eyes, quick to get sick… Much like I had at the same age. An iron supplement brought him up into the barely there normal range and so further bloodwork was done. Results indicated a certain level of inflammatory markers, and another still of something that would indicate this disease. We were referred to a specialist with the knowledge the only way to definitively diagnose Celiac Disease is through a small intestine biopsy; we declined.
In fact, we ignored the diagnosis.
Instead we took dairy out of his diet completely, another recommendation from the doctor, thinking that his love of the stuff was inhibiting his ability to get the range of nutrients he needed. I bought vitamins with iron in them again and encouraged my son he needed to eat them; the ocean animals imprinted on their multicolored chalky surface convinced him. In conjunction with this new plan of attack Vitamin C was increased in hopes it would boost the iron absorption. He was still pale. We started giving him probiotics in his juice or water. His gut was still bloated – the sound of fermentation prevalent when you tapped it; his face appearing somewhat gaunt. Months went by and we became more rigid about his meal schedule, bribing him unsuccessfully to eat his vegetables. He could sit in a chair for hours with no interest in his legos or in talking. When he was upset he became uncontrollable and violent.
And now here we are. For the first time in my life I’m finding I have to read all food labels. Everything on the shelves is suspect. The not so good for you cookies I make for Christmas, sugar being my only prior concern, can not have flour in them for fear of my son wanting to eat one or, heaven help me, sneak one. Going to a restaurant is something we have not even attempted as yet. All his favorites are things he can not order.
I have given away several boxes of pasta, a bag of bread flour, a frozen Bertioli entree. Crackers, which I can eat and are my son’s favorite, are hidden away in the pantry to be partaken of after he’s in bed; I eat them with cunning and strategy. Sandwich bread has been tossed, chicken noodle soup put in the back of the cabinets for after hours munching, and the bag and container of all purpose flour are languishing as I contemplate what to do with them. And then I looked at the multivitamin with iron in it. Contains wheat, the label said, and so it was tossed into the trash when my son wasn’t looking. As one would expect of poison, for that is what gluten is for my son, it was clever, quiet, and insidious. It’s destructive capabilities being proven day in and day out by my complicit denial. We were starving him with food.
There are no excuses for this. None which even I can think of as reasonable. For, truly, is there any reason one could give that would make you accept the destruction of their child from the inside out? The justicar that I am has me screaming that there is nothing that would work for myself. Oh, don’t get me wrong the brutality and high handedness of the physician and his staff, as well as their unwillingness to talk to us seriously about their reasons for all they did, left my husband and I completely distrusting everything they had asserted. In the manner of futile wishes that is probably my largest one at this moment. Not for my child to be absent this disease, as denial is certainly no longer my cup of tea, but for those we rely upon for sound advice in the most valuable aspect of life to operate without assumptions, particularly the one that renders them as completely superior. All evidence to their assertions of diagnosis need to be presented. Coercing the person before them should not be an option; reason and proof for the recommendations are the only ones that should be considered. Show people they have good reason to trust. There is no shortage of shame I have in myself for allowing this to waylay time my son could have been healthy; and no shortage of resentment in the professionals that act as thugs instead of experts who could be trusted.
Regardless of all this, I still had to throw out my soy sauce (gluten-free tamari now sits in its place), and am, even now, contemplating a new flour mixture for a pancake or waffle he might like because within one week of throwing gluten to the curb like the unwanted parasite she was my son’s color has returned, his attention span expanded, and the mood swings non-existent. I have my son back. The four different flours it took to make him chocolate chip cookies were well worth it.
As the year comes to a close, thankfully, I begin my year end “oh, crap I need to make progress on that wip!” sprint. Admittedly, the rough draft won’t even be done by then, but that matters little to me at this point. There has been almost no motion in my writing over the last several months, excepting some half-hearted attempts at editing, and it’s time for that stagnation to stop. It’s quite literally as though a fog has lifted. Finally. Between the hormones, trauma, and loss over the last few months my mind now feels clear and capable. Getting back together with the ladies in my very informal writing group has also helped immeasurably.
To this end I am also looking forward to getting back to reading while juggling my Christmas baking AND crafting. [Nothing lends its self to crafty inspiration quite like an almost four year old always being around and the one car leaving every day with your spouse.] This all seems like rather uninteresting blather, even to me – but here are the pieces of goodness that have come about as a result of all these things:
1. My friend passing has recalled to mind how valuable life is. While it’s incredibly easy to get caught up in the day to day drama and bullshit there is still life. Nothing else matters. Not really. That’s what my wip was always meant to demonstrate – my thoughts/feelings on the value of a life and how its safe keeping can never be handed over to an unknown person. Trust is personal. And there is nothing more personal to me than the lives I value.
2. Electricity is a requirement for living in this world. It shouldn’t be. My mind became calmer, I spoke more to my son (who definitely did NOT get more quiet), and the necessities became obvious when there was no electricity. Warmth, food, water – these are necessary for life. And here’s where I get political: So why on EARTH do we wind up subservient to town ordinances while we pay taxes on our property that make it a pain in the ass to have a fireplace? This kind of goes back to number one – why trust people you don’t know with something as valuable as your life – or things that drastically impact your ability to maintain your life? [For those who don't know and just want to focus on the Big Bad Utility Company angle of the media - it took CT's governor FIVE DAYS to call out the National Guard to start cleaning up the Nor'easter mess. Utilities would have been easier to restore if the freaking trees were dealt with from the get go and with the aid of the guys who had the equipment all us taxpayers have already bought.] Believe you, me – all that is relevant to the wip. I also really like pen and paper. A lot. My next house will have a gas stove and a fireplace.
3. Sometimes survival depends upon a community. Form one. Be a positive part of it. Life can be difficult and lonely, sometimes impossible, if not for the aid of those around us. It’s not about reaching out and taking, but about reaching out and giving. Sometimes having a little less because you shared means you wind up with more.
4. Time is precious and totally worth being spent on good food, good friends, good books, and the quiet moments it takes to figure out exactly what qualifies as “good”.
Have you ever been unwillingly without power for a substantial amount of time? How’s your writing going? Heck, what kind of books are you reading?
It’s been so long and I really want to get reacquainted with all of you. Please share.
First, I must apologize for being so remiss in attending this blog as well as frequenting all the lovely blogs I had become acquainted with earlier in the year. This has been one humdinger of a year for me and so I thought I would come back in typical fashion with the laundry list of what’s been going on in my world and then attempt to work my way back into the writing I love and miss.
I had my daughter in a planned home birth in the wee hours of a Sunday morning in September. Just a day shy of being 41 weeks pregnant I went into labor and, well, less than four hours and one push later my little 7lb 14oz bundle of joy was born. This was also exactly one week after Hurricane Irene walloped parts of my state (not my area). So, yeah for good timing!
3am and we're thrilled.
Now, the not so good. The end of October brought in a pre-Halloween Nor’easter that dumped about 20 inches of snow on leaf laden trees and brought about a state of emergency in CT that blew away (haha) any records the hurricane had set. Trick-or treating was cancelled in many towns, millions of people were without power, and my family and I were uprooted and hunkered down for 8 out of the 9 day power outage with my parents who had a generator. And running water. Temps I could deal with, but my kids? Reaching over and feeling my bundled up seven week old baby and realizing her cheeks were cold after one day without power in freezing temps had me biting the bullet and being forever grateful to my parents and for having a place to go. My neighbors were amazing as we brought out grills, pooled resources and cooked breakfast for the building. It was only the night before we all hung out in one unit, munching on chips by candlelight, my three year old and his two year old chum running around, and thinking it was very odd for a Nor’easter to bring a bunch of lightning with it. Apparently those blue flashes were various transformers blowing as trees fell and cracked the telephone poles in half.
Hubby kept running home to check on our kitties as internal temps of the condo got to be just above 50 as he worked to manage the damage to the association property (he had just been elected assoc Pres a few days before the storm) AND run his store since it was part of the 2% in that town with power. Our town was at 100% without power as were many in CT.
We returned home on November 7th under a boil water advisory and to a phone call from the friend of a friend. Lovely woman who, honestly, is one of the bravest I know. She called me, a virtual stranger, to tell me that our mutual friend was going to enter hospice. The next morning she called to tell me he had passed. It took guts to make those calls and I will be forever grateful for her doing that. So much better than to find out through fb posts. This man had been a friend of me and hubby’s since before we were married. Must have been at least 12 years – back in the days of being relatively fresh out of high school and trying to figure out what it meant to be an adult. Over the summer he had called, not to talk about food adventures – he was a true foody, but to talk about how nervous he was about an upcoming appointment. Symptoms he had, when plugged into the most vile Web MD, seemed to line up with lymphoma. Granted, as I told him then, just about ALL symptoms you plug into a website come up with “you may have cancer”, but as it turned out – Web MD was right. Fast forward from the results of the FNA, to the surgical biopsy and PET scan, and then you have a friend who saw an oncologist and got the diagnosis of Stage 3 Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. Again, I have to give a big shout out to the woman mentioned above – she was with my friend at that appointment. I thank the stars people like her exist and that my friend knew her and had her in his life.
It was about 2.5 months from diagnosis to passing. It felt like only a few weeks after he was admitted when he told me he couldn’t have solid foods because of a perforated small intestine. And the cancer was still being fought and the battle seemed to be going well… Now, I look at a Christmas tree my three year old son insisted upon and think of the pile of Christmas cards I need to finish writing up and how I’d rather skip the entire damned season because of the handwriting I won’t see on that expected greeting. One less person I’ll get a call from saying he’s in the state and wants to visit. One less number I’ll dial to talk politics, film, and new recipes over. One less snarky and clever light to be around. One less friend. One less Christmas card.
I was supposed to make cookies for him when he could eat solids again, to crochet him an orange scarf for winter, and now… I’m left with a jar of macadamia nuts and some lovely orange yarn. The cookies will be made and put into my baking gifts in his honor while the scarf will be made and donated to those in need. Sullenly, I just really wish I were sending them to MD. To that apartment where I would send birthday and Christmas cards.
Back to regular posting, hopefully, in the next few days/weeks.
After taking a few days off from blogging (I know) thanks to the bubonic plague moving through my house I’m back! [Slight exaggeration, but still... sick and pregnant is no fun, sick and pregnant while taking care of a healthy three year old is a challenge, then being a recuperating sick person who also happens to be seven months pregnant while taking care of a sick three year old just killed my week..] Anywho, it’s been an eventful week for being so uneventful. You know what I mean. It has, however, allowed for a bit of time and thought as to my wip.
Even before this rather absurd experience at my son’s pediatrician’s office this past week I have been struck by several issues pertaining to the ms. It’s not the plot per say, there are no obvious holes or non-world appropriate going ons, but rather it is strangely a treatise standing up for doctors. I almost intended it that way, kind of. The issue is that now I am having a hard time thinking of anything positive to say about the industry and, make no mistake, it is an industry. Never before have I had an issue with this. Working for doctors for the last ten years had put me in the frame of mind that there are some bad ones, but there are certainly some good ones. Now, after having personally been treated rather poorly as well as bearing witness to what a pediatrician’s office can do – well, I find myself lacking defense for the profession at large.
To be fair, the underlying premise of the ms still holds (not getting into it right now, tyvm), but my disillusionment needs to be exorcised via a different ms I think. I’ve given up on my hope of torturing a certain individual only to have now found myself in this quandary. Being grateful to be writing the pov of the mostly villain right now does help, but the last section was supposed to be the pov of a hero. A doctor. Perhaps it’s time to own my own little Inner Geek, embrace her, and draw a doctor in my imagination worthy of heroism. And if anyone has a good story of a doctor, please, by the love all that is holy, share it. Puhleeeeeaaaasssse!
Anyone else had these problems? Earth shaking revelations that shake up your work? How do you regain the passion and zeal for your current work if/when this happens?
First, I plan on spending very little time on that unfortunate WSJ article about the state of YA. Mostly because it seems to have really caused things to, errr, hit the fan and every other blog post I’m seeing these days is talking about it (this one was what tipped me off to the original article- love her book “Speak”). As a result of this I thought I would offer up what is merely my two cents about a far more interesting issue. Subtlety. There’s no doubt a lot of previously taboo topics that are no longer taboo being discussed across the board in literature (although, if you want to talk about taboo subjects being dealt with DECADES AGO I would highly recommend Heinlein) these days, but the overwhelming issue seems to be subtlety. This is true of just about all genres. There are some works/authors who strive to tell and not show, points illustrated through story and metaphor instead of wielding the sledgehammer of prose to get a point across. Subtlety and art in literature are very rare things indeed and sensationalism is what is encouraged and marketed the heck out of.
I think it is unfair to mix up issues of unnecessarily graphic exposition with dark topics. Genres have emerged as this new bastion of marketing and so we can not use something so new as a measure of what used to be. Watership Down, The Hobbit, Lord of the Flies are all books that are typically looked upon as age appropriate to the YA market – but now they’re considered “classics”. All of these dealt with important themes and, hell, certainly dealt with their fair share of controversial material (well, at least Flies did). Were they graphic? Not in the same way much of literature is now. Judy Blume’s Tiger Eyes even dealt with some serious subject matter with detail that haunted and yet it was not sensationalistic in the least. Graceling, on the other hand, was one that had an out of place and over the top deflowering scene (sorry, I had to – that phrase always makes me snicker). Unnecessary. While I acknowledge my pretentious notions of literature not being things everyone cares for, the truth is I like what Orwell had to say on the subject matter:
A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: 1. What am I trying to say? 2. What words will express it? 3. What image or idiom will make it clearer? 4. Is this image fresh enough to have an effect?
What are your thoughts on the issue of subtlety? Are the fantastically dark issues addressed in YA too dark? Is it the sensationalistic and graphic detail that makes them appear this way? Any older works that fit into the category that blow these notions out of the water?
I’m sorry to start off this week with politics. Even sorrier that it has to be to talk about something that I view as absolutely absurd, too. Please, bear with me because, honestly, this is something many bloggers might want to be in the know about. There is a lot of legislation being offered forth regarding copyright infringement and the like and, while I’m not going to get on my high horse and talk about copyright issues right now, I will say that the legislation is BAD.
Here’s the first bit:
If you embed a YouTube video that turns out to be infringing, and more than 10 people view it because of your link… you could be facing five years in jail.
The full article can be found at Tech Dirt. Now, I don’t know about you, but the first thing that comes to mind is the amount of policing that’s required to make this kind of thing have any teeth; the second is the concerns that this could effectively make many US citizens into criminals. Easily.
We can always play devil’s advocate and proclaim that OF COURSE it’s going to be one of those laws that isn’t taken seriously, but it is set up to be dealt with rather seriously and as such should not be diminished simply upon the premise of “they won’t do anything about it”. Added to this issue is the Protect IP Act which is a brain child of Senator Leahy of VT. I’ve said it before and I’ve said it again – law needs to be considered first for all the bad it can do and ONLY IF that is amenable should the good be considered. Never would I presume to defend piracy, but I most certainly will always – ALWAYS- champion the first amendment. Any law that encourages the shutting down of websites upon presumption of guilt without due process of law is against the first amendment.
Any thoughts on these pieces of legislation? What about copyright law?
Wednesday’s Post: A Wall Street Journal article about YA literature that seemed to cause quite a hubub.
Slowly but surely I’ve been working on my wip. You know, the one where all is dark and dreary with the world and people have submitted to tyranny? Yeah, that one. Then I hit a holding pattern. AGAIN. This isn’t for lack of direction exactly, but more that I’m fighting my inner demons. You see, I want to kill someone. Perhaps it would be more fair for me to say I want to torture THEN kill them, but the truth is I really, really, really want to do this. The problem? The person is in my reality and has not been made into a character as yet. Of course, he’d also be made a character solely for the purpose of being wretchedly treated before his oh-so-painful demise (and it would be painful – make no mistake) and that means I’m not writing the bit for the story.
The other problem being that the only way I can get him tortured would be for him to be a good guy and that sooooo doesn’t even work for said catharsis. Feh.
My agenda is not the same as the story’s and right now that’s kind of a bummer. This individual quite conceivably doesn’t warrant the kind of treatment I would like to imagine befalling him (goes against my principles anyway), but being as infuriated as I have been by people who can’t do what they’re supposed to demands the violent fantasy. Not that I’m righteous or anything… *crickets* And there I sit at my computer, dreaming up a horrific and beatific sequence of sadism, unable to write it because I KNOW it just doesn’t fit in with the story.
Trying to move on and let go of this wondrous idea has been hard and led me to having my fingers tied up in knots instead of typing. Have you ever wanted to put something in a story so badly you could taste it but didn’t dare write it because you knew it just didn’t fit and you’d totally be a bad writer if you forced it in there or just wasted your time with it? Aside from digging out my punching bag (which would be no small fete given the state of my basement) – are there any thoughts on a coping mechanism? FYI: I’ve already tried chocolate. There isn’t enough in my house or the local grocery store to take care of this particular problem.
Shameless plug: My other blog, The Elephant in the Womb, was updated again! Woohoo! It will look prettier next week.
Since having a child it seems as though I am always late. Given my recent awareness in his stalling tactics, earning him the nickname of Delay Fish, I have to now say… I think I know where he gets it from. There goes my happy righteous parental moment!
So, back to the blog post. I hope everyone in the US had a great holiday weekend. Perhaps some fireworks, good eats, friends, and family were partaken of making it an endeavor in relaxation and all that is good in life. Given that this was not a long weekend for my family, but one where much stress has been had with the exception of some wonderful kick-your-feet-up-by-the-fire-pit time with neighbors. I’m pretty sure that they are the reason I’m mostly sane right now. There’s no need to bore y’all with the details of course and, honestly, I don’t even want to reiterate them right now as they just make me tired and cranky/ier, but there was another wonderful thing that occurred.
First, I started a new blog. No, this does not mean I’ll be leaving this one – just a way of organizing. What can I say? I really need to be organized in at least one aspect of life. It sure as heck isn’t my bookcase these days!
Second, I will be doing some cross posting on the days I have articles on the other blog site. At least for a little while.
Third, I have rediscovered my love of Heinlein and am working on getting through Starship Troopers right now. His wit gives me peace and, while I nod along to it thinking “wow, he so saw what was going on”, there is still a wonderful capacity for joy.
Fourth, facebook messaging is going the way of the do-do bird for me. There’s no help for it. As a proud and paranoid liberterarian I can not help but turn my nose up at its new format. Besides, maybe I’ll actually get on top of my gmail account finally! It could happen…
Fifth, forward momentum on my wip is being made. While stress is a creativity killer I have found that practicing my piano again has helped a lot in this regard and the words are more readily available to my mind.
Okay, it’s Friday. Well, you’re reading this on Friday, I am writing this at entirely too late an hour on Thursday and my brain went to mush HOURS ago. Maybe not hours, but at least an hour ago anyway. It has been a week of potty training, absurdly long hours for hubby and subsequently me, only one night of uninterrupted sleep (nightmares, son’s, not mine- oye!), and oodles of stress. As a result of all these things, and in lieu of any deep and thoughtful posts that require attention to detail and coherence, I have decided to go with a few very pertinent links.
Serious stuff first.
Folks in Joplin, MO are dealing with tragedy, devastation, and horror. Please, if you can, check out this article and follow the links to help.
Alabama has also been dealing with disaster from the tornadoes that struck there at the end of April and author Kerri Nelson has set up A Buck for Bama to help out there.
