Writing is a journey, not a destination.

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Monday, November 25, 2013

The Twitch

I've got a twitch. In my eye.

I get those on occasion. A few years ago, the twitch was so persistent and long-lived, I went to the optometrist. Eye twitches are usually a combination of too much histamine and too much stress. I took my Benedryl, got more sleep and the twitch subsided.

About two years ago, the twitch changed to numb eyelids. That's the only way to describe it. My eyelids go numb, and I can't keep my eyes open. I think it's my body's attempt to mimic the Joo Janta 200 Super Chromatic Peril Sensitive Sunglasses by ending my ability to see what's stressing me. Again, the solution is more sleep and a histamine blocker.

The twitch started two weeks ago, when I had my little upset. It's switching from right to left eye, it's hit both eyes at once, and it's alternating with the numb eyelids. You can't see it, but, trust me, I feel like Bugs Bunny after he swallows that shot of alcohol (don't remember why he swallows it; just what he looked like after). It has to be stress, because I've taken that generic Claritin for six weeks and I believe that contains antihistamine.

"Choosing to forgive" is a bit harder this time around. I keep making the choice, and I think I'm setting the issue aside for God to handle, but the twitch makes me think I'm failing. So be it. I don't know any other way to handle this than to keeping praying, keep forgiving and keep taking Benedryl.

Happy Monday, dear readers. Should my eyes slam shut while talking with you, you're stressing me out. Stop it.

Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Not NaNo

I am not a NaNo writer. I disparage no one who does it, but it just ain't my style and I'm at peace with that.

However, my goal for the remainder of this month is to write something on my WIP every day. That hasn't been happening and I'm at the end of my procrastination rope. I mean, I've been procrastinating so hard, I'm exercising rather than writing. That's sick.

I'm afraid of my WIP. Personal expectations are too high and personal motivation is too low. I have no great ideas left. I can't even figure out who the antagonist is. On the other hand, I have no other project that tweaks my interest any more than this one, so it seems silly to write on something else.

It's not that I can't write. I put words down, and they make sense and everything. It's that I don't care about writing anymore. I have no drive to tell the story. If I don't want to tell it, why would anyone want to read it?

Doesn't matter. I must assume this is simply my own lazy, apathetic nature seeking to condone my inclination to do nothing more in life but go to work to support my Farmville habit. Being half Vulcan, I understand emotion cannot dictate direction. Being half human, though, I understand without emotion, there's no drive to complete the journey. That's where I am. No drive.

If I can get as many words on my WIP as a typical blog post, I'll be...well, farther than I am. If it doesn't matter whether I write or not, I may as well write, right? With such willingness to be distracted by anything, the holiday season is as good a time to start as any.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. May you find the drive to finish all your worthy projects.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Greatest Queso Ever

Because My Best Friend apparently went through contortions trying to find the recipe so she could make this, I promised I would post it here for perpetuity.

1 block (32 Oz. Block) Velveeta Cheese
1 package (8 Oz. Package) Cream Cheese
1 can (10 Oz. Can) Rotel
1 can (10.75 Oz. Can) Cream Of Mushroom Soup
1 pound Ground Beef OR Sausage (or A Combination Of Both)
1 Green Onion, optional 
1 sm can corn, optional

Brown ground beef or sausage (or both) in a pan over medium heat and set aside.
Cut up the Velveeta and cream cheese into cubes and place into a crock pot.
Pour in the Rotel and the cream of mushroom soup (and drained corn) and stir ingredients together.
Place the crock pot on low setting.
After about 30 minutes, add the browned meat and continue to let cook, stirring as needed, for another 30 minutes or so.

May we all die happy of coronary heart disease. 

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Pant Rant

Y'all remember when I bought new pants, right? I'd had enough with the old ones being too tight (read "I've gotten too fat") and in a fit of exasperation, I went to the store and bought five new pair in all the colors I wanted. They fit, too. Mom is a witness.

Well, they're too loose now. They fit that night, and now they're falling off and bunching in weird ways and just infuriating. Did I lose weight in the meantime? More likely it's a conspiracy involving space age polymers that cling in an environment of low humidity, white linoleum and florescent lights and relax under all other conditions. I must be a size 11. One salty chip and I'm a 12; one hour  in The Swamp and I'm a 10.

I also have to say, once again, I hate low rise pants. Pear-shaped women carry weight in their bellies and butts, and low-rise pants accentuate not only the muffin-top of belly bulge but broaden the beam by focusing on the widest part of the hips. I guess it's more important to show off that tramp stamp and thong than have flattering clothes. I've been waiting since 1991 for colors I can wear to come back in style, why should I be surprised that clothing trends only get worse? Pretty soon it'll be normal to show pubic bones at work. Better yet, we'll wear nothing on the bottom and focus entirely on baby doll tops that make everyone look pregnant or willing to be pregnant.

I should have learned to sew. Except I would have to find patterns from the 1950's to make a decent pair of pants.

Happy Wednesday, dear readers. May your pants fit in a good way.

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Too Right

I hurt my arm last month. Not sure exactly what I did, but somewhere between digging and hauling, I strained my forearm. The brachioradialis muscle, as far as I can tell with an Internet search when the pain got so bad I feared carpal tunnel or bone cancer. My elbow wasn't happy with me, either. Could be a chicken and egg situation.

This weekend the pain was so intense, after my one-handed research laid my worries to rest, I started using my left arm to lift heavy things like the half gallon almond milk carton, my half full electric teapot and the brown sugar container. That's when I realized how "right" I am. I must be using my right arm a lot outside if I'm using it this much inside. I guess it's had enough.  

I'm not a crazy gardener. I'm crazy about gardening, but I don't go all out insane with the whacking and boulder rolling and whatnot. I'm the slow and steady gardener who sits down to weed so I don't put my back out, takes more trips than necessary with the wheelbarrow to avoid muscle strain and goes inside between 10 AM and 2 PM because that's when UV radiation is most intense in Kansas. Zucchini isn't worth melanoma. 

To actually hurt myself is rare, and to hurt myself in a way that hangs on for weeks is unheard of. Until this year.

That fall in April that led to the horrible knee ache in July and August has morphed into what I can only describe as a groin pull. Rotating my left leg in certain circumstances leads to a pain that nearly buckles my good knee and causes inappropriate words to spew from my lips. So, lame on the left, crippled on the right.

I've read gardening magazines for years, and every once in a while, I'll see an article about garden safety that involves exercises, because everybody knows gardening can be extremely dangerous if you don't warm up properly.

That was sarcasm, if you didn't hear it. 

The old joke says a twenty year old gardener has a forty year old back and sixty year old knees. They ain't kidding. Add 20 to all those numbers, and you know what I'm dealing with.  

I'm not laughing quite so hard anymore. Gardening is about the only exercise I like doing, so I'm stretching those muscles slowly and carefully and applying heat as needed. Once these injuries have healed, I'll add some weight training to help prevent this kind of thing in the future. Nothing crazy, though. That wouldn't be me.

Happy Tuesday, dear readers. Remember, Monday is always the first day you go to work, no matter when that day happens on the calendar. Be ready for it.

Thursday, November 7, 2013

The Logistics of Blogging

I am an excessively scheduled person. My life is maintained with a precision likely stemming from an undiagnosed mental disorder (it's only undiagnosed because I haven't pulled out my DSMIII-R and diagnosed myself). This is why I can keep six cats with varying dietary and exercise needs. This is also why I occasionally miss my blog time.

I have 30 "free" minutes between waking up and leaving for work. Since that's my average writing time for a blog post, this generally works well. However, some days I get off track. Farmville has loading issues. Someone coughs up a hairball in a particularly difficult place to clean. I've forgotten the fridge is empty and must make something for lunch that day. All kinds of things.

TT: The fact that these things happen and I cope with a minimum of trouble leads me to believe I don't have a mental disorder, just very rigid habits.

So, when you don't see a new post from me, more often than not it's a case of bad timing. I'm not dead or depressed or kidnapped. I'm just off schedule.

Happy Thursday, dear readers. May any inconvenience today be God's blessing in your life.