Sunday, February 26, 2012

Thinking and Driving

I did a lot of driving today, so I had a lot of time to think...about driving. 

And to be grateful that I live in the place everyone seemed to be driving AWAY from! 

Not in a sense of "I want to be a hermit and live alone, ALONE," but in a sense of "This is the end of a vacation week, and since everyone's driving in the opposite lane--away from my hometown--I must conclude that they all were vacationing at my hometown and going to their homes." And they were leaving at the last possible minute in order to get to their homes to go to bed and wake up for school/work tomorrow, so they must not only have chosen to spend their free time here, but to have stayed until the bitter end of vacation.

My conclusion: I live in a pretty nice place.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

But on a Lighter Note...

Nice moment yesterday when Offspring XX Scholar and I were talking about Jenny/Yenni's blog of awesome art that seems to be all based on characters from a Tolkien book. I think. Anyway, I mentioned how much my father liked those books, and OXXS was surprised to learn that about her Grandfather, since she just remembers him as an old guy who was pretty handicapped with Parkinson's. Really nice for me to be able to talk about something positive about Dad, something he and she had in common.

Almost makes me want to go read one of those books. But--big embarrassing reveal--I never even finished The Hobbit

I'd read it, though, and all of the Rings, if I could magically draw like Jenny/Yenni.

Time Waster!

Ugh. As my "free time" gets closer to over, I waste it more and more because I'm so aaaiiieeeee about savoring it. If that makes any sense. It doesn't make sense to me.

Today's drawings SUCK and look like they were done by a talented...ten-year-old, tops. I'm packing up drawing and watercolor supplies to take to the farm, along with my iBook for writing, and some magazine reading I want to catch up on. This will guarantee me:

Days worth of good things to do; and

I won't have time to do any reading, writing, drawing or painting, since I'll be so prepared. My days will be filled with sap collecting, boiling, canning and cleaning. Sap house wood stacking is likely, too. At least that one will serve to make up for not going to the gym for my run for the next few days. 

Planning to make a side trip to visit Offspring XY Goofball Physicist Sunday! How I wish for a way to jet places without time spent driving, without using fuel.  How I wish the dog would not be licking ashes right now!!! Got to go.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Done, Done, Doing

Sewing project...Done! Photographed, folded, and practically put away. Until it will be gifted....

Some schoolwork paperwork finished.

Application for dream job (Or is it? Would mean a move, a To Sell Or Not To Sell over my house, living in a colder climate than this cold climate, and some other concerns) completed and sent in. 

There are still a couple of items on my To Do list, and play practice the next couple of nights, but for now, I'm having a little reading break. And sketching! My portfolio is in a crazy-messy state with outdated crappy drawings and IF I get The Interview, I really need to blow them away with my skill. So it looks like some ART is going to have to take place these next few days--Here I kid myself--next few WEEKS, these things don't go down quickly, because if and when (No! WHEN!) I get called for an interview, I want to have tons of great looking, current-ability drawings, paintings, and the like all neatly bound and show-off-y.

WHEN! (Do I sound a little spastic?)

Monday, February 20, 2012

Extreme Long Shot--But I Have To TRY!

Back from the gym and my two mile plod, cup of coffee in hand, I sat down at the table to sort through the couple of newspaper sections that I didn't finish, yesterday. The unimportant ones, like Sports, Classifieds. Thought I'd see what jobs might be good fits for Offspring XX Scholar, and...Holy Moly! SUNY Delhi (where I am destined to live, sooner or later) is advertising for a

Faculty Member in the Art Department!

And then it even got a bit better, because I looked at their online catalog, expecting Fall 2012 courses in things like Advanced Computer Animation for Advanced Techno-Loving Advanced Students, and here's what they are offering: Ceramics, Freehand Drawing, Drawing, Painting. Oh. My. Specialties.

Little hitch in that they want someone with years of college teaching experience. Just a little hitch that will probably make my application hit the circular file faster than I can come up with a reason to procrastinate sending out my application, if that makes any sense....

Got to try, though!

Saturday, February 18, 2012


OK! Once again, I've reached the end of Kismet, editing as I go along for the...fifth or such time. Unfortunately, it still isn't the classic interpretation of a romance, with the girl and the guy protagonists falling madly in love and supplying us with a sex scene or two. The sex scene involves the antagonist and the protagonist's fiance, which is probably enough to knock it out of the cue as ever being published by any current publisher, even the sub-acceptable kinds. 

So I am signed up to take the "How to E-pub Yourself" course, starting in March.

Because try as I might, I just cannot make this story work any other way. But maybe I'll keep trying, along with: Making promotional materials for next year's elective offerings, hand-sewing the binding on the quilt, going through my piles of magazines and filing the pertinent ones and recycling the rest, designing the "Advanced Designation in the Arts" brochure for the school board, and doing anything non-related to that, this week. Like getting more serious about the play I'm stage managing--Eleanor: The Musical.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Books are not a Guilty Pleasure, The Bachelor is.

Do I tell everyone I meet that I write books? Nope. If I wrote a genre that would not, if published the old fashioned way, be housed on the Romance shelf, might I be more apt to discuss my work?

This is going to have to change. I have enough other reasons, real or imagined, to feel down on myself.

--interesting Guardian column about the prevailing attitude toward women's fiction:

Putting different values on different genres and the people who read them. And write them. =BAD

My floor is washed, my quilt is close to done, and it's time to write some CHIC LIT!

Novel: The Prologue:

 “What’s your sign?”
      He was the polar opposite of the type of guy I would ever find interesting, and he was asking the type of question—the exact type of question—that made me want to kick him in the crotch and run for the hills. I turned away, pretending that I hadn’t heard him.
      “Come on, baby,” he persisted, rising from his bar stool and swaggering around so that he was once again in front of me. “You’re a Libra, right? I can always tell a Libra.” It was clear that he wasn’t going to fade into the woodwork.
      “And you’re here on a sortie from the nineteen-seventies,” I said, practically growling. “From the time when people last used that one as a pickup line.”
      “Ooh. A hot one! Hot and a-spice-eee! I knew it. An Aries.”
      I really hated to resort to violence.
      “Leave me alone.”
      “I’m an Aries, too,” he said. “And this morning, our horoscope said—”
      I cut him off with an elbow thrust to the diaphragm. The man doubled over, and then he struggled to get air back into his lungs. I figured that he wouldn’t be able to speak for at least as long as it would take me to finish my martini, but for safety’s sake, I tossed the drink back in one quick gulp and grabbed my purse and walked out of the cocktail car, back toward my seat. 

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Happy Valentine's Day

Gosh. I get more into Valentine's Day than Thanksgiving, and way, way more than what I consider the top idiotic "holiday" of the year, Halloween. Not for the grand gesture bit, although Handsome does a very nice job of that--box of roses on the porch when I got home from work, box of Peeps with a slashed cellophane wrapper so they are at the proper staleness, card.... I just get happy at the idea of a day when love rules. When you can say "I love you" or a version of that to people whom you may not normally say it to, like your students.

As for my to-do list of the other day...Hmm. I have made one bulletin board, and it came out rather well. Don't quite have plans for mounting it, though. Made the cookies I am bringing in for the junior high honors chipwich afternoon. Ran my two miles. And the quilt has made it from the dining room table to the kitchen table, right next to the sewing machine. 

Now for that binding. Stalling=scared to flub it up.

Maybe tonight I'll do a little editing.

Monday, February 13, 2012

Ambition, ambition

I am going to get so much done this week.

Pretty soon, that is. I'm about to add the binding to the very long edges of a very large quilt.

Other things on my list: Create two bulletin boards--the kind that you don't have to stick pins in because they have the diamond-pattern of ribbons to tuck papers into. Finish editing Kismet, and maybe figure out how to format it for e-publication. Take the RWA course? Draw and paint. Get all kinds of lesson planning done and organized, and all kinds of articles that I've torn out and piled up in their binders. Go to my old blog and leave a "forwarding e-dress."

Oh. And wash the kitchen floor.

The clock is ticking and I'm ready for action!

Friday, February 10, 2012


WHY can't I edit my profile and provide a little information for all of those reading my blog (=1, me)?
WHY do people find this easy to do?

Oh. Because I am emitting a magnetic field that incapacitates this computer. Yes, that must be it.

An Excerpt from...Kismet!

“What time do you expect to be home today, Peter?” asked Linda, watching him dress.
“The usual,” he answered. She blew a puff of air out from between pursed lips. Not a terribly helpful answer. Then he added, “Or maybe a little later, to make up for all the time I’ve taken off. Say, seven-ish?”
“I was hoping that you could come home earlier than that. It would be fun to do some shopping.”
“Shopping, Dart? When you called in sick Monday and Tuesday and yesterday, I was afraid that your bosses were going to have a conniption, but if you don’t get in there today, you may not have bosses anymore to worry about. We can shop on Sunday.”
“Work. Right.” Linda sat up and pulled the sheets over her bosom, ran her fingers through her hair and glanced in the large, black rectangular panel that was called a teevee, on which you could watch what Peter called programs and movies. It was an electrical device that one had to turn on by aiming a small unit at it and pushing a button. It was not turned on now, but it served as a semi-decent looking glass for her to check herself in. She was going to have to at least pretend to go to work today. “Hard to go back after such a wonderful honeymoon with you, Honeyman.”
“We’ll have an actual honeymoon someday.”
“When do you want to do that? When do you want to get married, Peter?”
“Hmmm. There’s no rush, is there?”
“Oh. Of course not,” she replied, recalling the marriage license that she had found in Darcy’s purse. “Just wondering. I mean, we were all set to get married.”
“That, er, had been the plan, yes,” he said. “But when I got called out of town, and it was our Number One important client and I would have been throwing years of work in the can if I hadn’t gone to New York…there was nothing I could do…and I didn’t want to give you a crummy, last-minute, no-plan wedding. So it was best to postpone it, don’t you think?”
“Of course.”
“Rather than not do it right?”
“I suppose,” she said. “But let’s not entirely forget about it. I really do want to be Mrs. Peter Caldwell.”
He threw his right arm around her shoulders and brought her in tight for a kiss on the cheek. “You are sweet. I am late. I am going to be counting the minutes until seven o’clock tonight.”
“Me, too,” she said, aware that she had better watch the clock all day, in order to be at the right place at the right time. She hopped out of bed and went to the closet that they’d moved all of Darcy’s clothes into the day they’d returned from New York City. Ah, New York City! Linda would have been completely content to have stayed there, but it turned out that the couple had been living in a smaller, upstate city called Glens Falls. They had each had separate homes: Peter had been living in this wonderful, sprawling, beautiful house on a quiet block off of Ridge Street, and Darcy had an apartment that took up the second floor of a two-story, very average house on a very average block half a mile away. 
Her lease had been up at the end of December. So as soon as they got back to town, they had finished the process of moving in together—even though they had not gotten married! She just loved living in Peter’s house. Their house. She’d spent part of each day—when not in bed with Peter—ambling around the large house. Truth be told, it was not as large as the Burgess manor. It was larger than the Bennett house, though, and of course, much, much larger and better than any hovel that Collin would have been setting them up in, for however long that would have been.
After dressing and giving her one final kiss and squeeze, Peter left for his office. Linda took a long, hot shower and snuggled into the plush bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. She decided it was time to do a little ‘Darcy investigation.’ Peter had mentioned her job several times, so she ought to figure out what Darcy did and where she did it. Darcy’s bag had been on her lap on the train to New York, but Linda had only given its contents cursory attention. She brought the bag to the bed and emptied everything out of it. She’d already used some of the money inside, of course, and she’d tested out the handy little cartridge of lipstick and her vial of a marvelous, black, gooey product, which had a little brush in a tube that coated her eyelashes with a black paint that made her eyes look like those of a burlesque doxy. This time, though, she set the beauty products aside and went through Darcy’s wallet, examining the various calling cards for clues as to where she worked or what she did.
Several of the calling cards were of a hard, shiny material, and had raised letters and numbers on them, and were of questionable use. However, it was easy to figure out where she worked, because there were multiple stiff paper cards with her name, ‘Wickham & Denny,’ and an address and some other numbers on them. Apparently, Darcy worked at a firm on Main Street. She tucked the cards back in place for future reference and put everything back into the purse. Then she prepared to go out, putting on Darcy’s coat and hat and big, clunky mittens, and she went off on a mission of exploration.
She walked and walked, marveling at the number of shops and the variety of businesses that Glens Falls had to offer. Stores, large and small, cafes, drinking establishments, a library and a museum: so much to see! And although the incessant noise of the speeding vehicles had driven her a little batty at first, she thought it a small price to pay for the magnificence of this future age. The best place she discovered was the shopping city, called ‘Aviation Mall’—walls and a roof over city streets for pedestrians only, with shops and restaurants and entertainment. One could go inside and shop and stay warm and dry in any weather! Everything and anything anyone could ever want was right here at a moment’s notice, in this fantastic, future place! She still hadn’t figured out what the place had to do with aviation—birds sometimes flew in?—but what did that matter?
Want a new dress? What color? How scandalously short? Want a new scarf? Fifty to pick from, in every color or fabric or pattern. Find a book on any subject or of truly, truly sexy secrets? No problem. Sparkling, diamond jewelry by the trunkload. Shoes and boots right there on shelf after shelf, pre-made, so you didn’t even have to wait. You could walk right out of the shoe store wearing brand new shoes or boots.
One of the best shopping discoveries had been at the apothecary shop. She had been in the shopping city, and had finally figured out that “CVS” stood for “apothecary,” and she had steeled herself to discretely ask the apothecary for some advice when she’d seen the “family planning” sign hanging over the aisle. Glory be! Right there on the shelves where she’d not had to ask anyone anything or show herself as a woman who wasn’t right in mind to have children: a plethora of products to prevent her from getting in the family way. Fascinated, she’d read all of the packages, and settled on buying a couple of boxes of the exotically colored condoms. She hoped that it was not too late, as they’d been enjoying sexual congress with no ‘family planning’ products since the night in New York; she’d know in a couple of days.
Linda saw through the glass ceiling that it was beginning to get dark outside, so she left the shopping city and walked back to her wonderful home.