The Cat Who Made Trouble*

Hear and attend and listen, O Best Beloved, and I shall tell you a story about another Cat, only this one was not so wild and wily as the first, but in spite of that he made a great deal more trouble for his People. He was a shadowy stripey little cat with a round little belly that he was quite proud of, and little grey pit-pat paws with claws in them ever so sharp, and a wild and waving tail which appeared to be quite all that was left of his ancestor from the wild woods. We shall call the man who fed him Man, and we shall call the woman who petted him Woman, and do not believe that they did not have names, Best Beloved, but it is only that the Cat, who was not so wild and wily but awfully stripey and shadowy and round about his furry little tummy, did not particularly care what their names were, so long as he was fed and petted. And they all lived together in a small 'partment, which was rather like a house only colder and more cramped.

The Cat, for he was a true cat, took it upon himself to make Trouble occasionally, to remind Man and Woman that he was still a Cat That Walked By Himself, and 'specially that all places were alike to him, including the table and the countertops and the birdcage and the desks and that warm spot on top of the kitchen cabinets, and as I am sure you can guess, O Best Beloved, that vexed the Woman and the Man terribly. For he was also a Cat of 'satiable curiosity (rather like the Elephant's Child) and he asked ever so many questions, one of which was: "Can I go there?", which he asked with his little pit-pat paws and a trilling meow like a little babbling brook and to which the answer was usually "No", and another which was "Will you feed me now?", which he said in his loudest and most protesting meow. Man and Woman did not speak Cat, of course, for this was no longer the time when animals and people all speak alike and when everyone could understand each other. But they knew what he meant, all the same, and he knew that they knew, and if they did not get up and feed him when he asked, he would get out his 'satiable curiosity and go wandering and waving his wild tail in the 'partment till he found a suitable place to make Trouble by getting into Things (which means, Best Beloved, that he would poke his little pit-pat paws where they weren't supposed to be, and make messes, and ask ever so many questions), and there he would go - up on the table or the desks or the bed where Man and Woman slept and snorted and snored and he would ready his little grey pit-pat paws. He left his claws retracted, Best Beloved, because he knew better than to claw up the furniture or the People. THAT would have gotten him put out on his wild waving tail, and no more food! And when he had ready his little grey paws and had sat on Man's chest and had purred in Woman's ear, for those were ways he had of getting them out of bed, then he would tap-tap-tap just so with one paw on Woman's face, and meow in his loud and protesting meow: "Will you feed me now?". And Man would roll over and Woman would pull the covers over her ears and they would both go back to sleep, and the Cat would go to find another place to make Trouble, waving his wild tail and complaining about his empty dish.

Then he would get up - on the desk or the dresser or the counter, where there were many nice Things that the Man and Woman had gotten, and he would plan and plot and ready his little pit-pat paws. And when they were ready he would tap-tap-tap just so on the boxes or candles or papers and they would fall to the floor just so: THUD! CRASH! And Man would wave a newspaper at him, and Woman would snap her fingers and say "DOWN" in her most you're-in-trouble voice that she saved all tucked in her throat for really serious occasions. And when the Cat had listened (for if he did not listen he would be out on his wild waving tail, and no more food!) the Woman would clean up the mess and go back to her work and the Man would go back to his reading because the Cat had only just been fed and they didn't see why he should be hungry, but the Cat would find another place to make Trouble all the same. It mattered less to him when he had been fed, only his bowl was empty, that was the main thing. So you see, Best Beloved, why Man and Woman would be vexed, at all the Trouble the Cat made for wanting food. But that is what Cats do, and they do it well.

Often when the Cat made Trouble Man would say to Woman, "Did you feed him today?", and Woman would say to Man "How many times has he eaten?", and the Cat would say "It doesn't matter, my bowl is empty. How am I to stay shadowy and stripey and ever so round about the tummy if there isn't any food?" And they would sigh and shake their heads at him and say "It would do you good to lose some weight anyway!" but they didn't really mean it, because they liked his little round tummy. So the Man and the Woman made a deal with the Cat, which was this: He would have to be good and be quiet and leave them to sleep when they liked, else they would be awfully cranky and yell more than usual at the Cat, and throw things as First Man threatened to do. And they, seeing that he was good and quiet and had left them to sleep, would feed him and pet him when he wanted. So the Cat would be quiet for a while, but when he had had enough of being quiet and good, and it was nearly time for Woman to wake up, and his bowl was not yet filled, he would go and threaten to make Trouble again and wake her up anyway, and vex her terribly and she would be cranky. And someone would feed him eventually, for that is what People who care about their Cats do, when the bowl is empty and it's been hours since lunchtime, but the Cat still made Trouble, for that is what Cats do to remind us they are Cats That Walk By Themselves, and that all places are alike to them - 'specially the ones we don't like them being in.

*Can you tell what I've been reading lately?
Author's Note: Yes, the Cat did wake me up in the middle of a nap by getting into Things (by which I mean knocking them all onto the floor) on my desk again.

Here goes nothing.

Added a "Donate" button. As soon as I find a better, fee-free way to give me money I'll put that up as well. Obviously checks or money orders work, if you know my address.

Putting this button up is an acknowledgment that we just aren't going to make it on our own. My debt could have bought me a small house already, and it will take a lot of work to get free of it. I'm not begging, and if I had anything to give back other than words of gratitude, I'd offer it. As it stands we are struggling with a lot of things including some very uncharitable neighbors, and I thought maybe seeing a few cents trickle in here and there would help me keep my head up and my eyes forward.

Here's hoping all of us can keep working toward the future.

Look out, World!

Apparently knowledge beyond how to use a current M$ desktop environment is dangerous these days. At least, if you're a college student in Boston. I'd pray that the ignorance shown by this group of uniformed thugs doesn't extend to other areas, but previous anecdotes from friends and associates online have proven the point already. Watch who you brag about your new Linux box to...

Also, for those of you who use Blogger, you'll notice a new little tab/link named "Monetize" has gone up! I haven't logged in for a few weeks so this may be old news, but I'm mildly amused by the sales pitch going on here. Google gets a fair share of revenue from its advertising partners, I assume, and it's only natural to want to enhance their chances of getting even more exposure (and entice the good users of Google's fine products to make a few cents on the side), but why would I ruin my layout with ads whose content I can't control, and bother my few loyal readers with stuff they don't need? If I want to make money via my blog, I'll put up an unobtrusive "Donate" button like so many other people do. Heck, I might even use Google Checkout to do it.

Look what I made!

My latest swashbuckling kitchen adventure involved the ever-fascinating rising yeast and its companions, the sweet but sneaky cane sugar and the strange beast called flour! Pounding the combination into the table and heating it yielded some fantastic results, and this pirate came away with booty to share! Behold - the taming of the baking ingredients!



It's delicious, too. Not whole wheat, as we didn't have whole wheat flour, but for bleached flour it turned out well enough. The crust is deliciously crispy and the inside is soft and light and chewy. I did an egg wash over the tops, as suggested by a friend online, and the tops turned a gorgeous shiny golden brown. One loaf suffered some mild discoloration where it came into contact with a rust spot on my cheap bread pan (sadly, I only have one good glass one) but having spots in no way diminishes its edibility.

So far I've done bread and butter as a late-night snack (I started baking late, and the loaves came out rather close to midnight, but I couldn't resist cutting off the end and crunching happily through it), thick-sliced toast in the morning with jam, and another slice for dinner with turkey and mashed taters 'n onions. I suspect both loaves will be gone by Friday, but that just gives me an excuse to get some real whole wheat flour and do it again! Thanks for the recipe, dad. ^_^

Help the Homeless

Just found this site and thought it was interesting. Some people see it as abusive or exploitation, but my honest opinion of any site that helps people get off the streets and makes sure they stay that way is a great thing, no matter what you call it. They've raised quite a bit of money so far and have put one man through a full detox and job training, and are on the road to helping two more, with plans to expand the program to multiple cities. Think it's worth it to Pimp This Bum?

In other news, I've been caught in the crossfire between parent and school on one of my cases. The school wants to kick me out entirely, and the mother wants me to stay there and is fighting tooth and nail with the school to keep me there. I'm with the mother - the school says they're overstaffed with me there and that they have complete control over what's going on and don't need me, despite the fact that they're not doing for the child what they say they are (and what they should be) even after 7 months of fighting with them over sensory breaks, PECS interventions and IEP goals.

My supervisor tells me this school is the worst in the district and I believe her; I'd never send my child there after having seen how they work. The worst part is that they're so passive-aggressive about it; they tell me nothing and ask me nothing directly, and then send letters to the insurance rep stating that the child "seems irritable" around me on top of me being a third wheel in the classroom. It's not that it's personal; any TSS would be a thorn in their side... but now that they've opened up this can of worms, I'm going to take great pride in watching this child's mother remove him to another school next year... because I don't mind having to move to a new client if my hours get dropped, but I worry about the child and how much he's being ignored in that classroom. No kid deserves to be the victim of a school system that thinks it's too good for advice from outside.

Procrastination Station - The train will leave.... eventually!

I'm rather frustrated with myself today.

I hate paperwork. This is no surprise, really. I've never liked bureaucratic measures of self-reflection and my progress notes are as bad as they come. As much as I understand the need to keep records of such things as a child's progress within the system, it's painful to be spending 3-6 hours per week of my unpaid at-home time doing so, especially with my habits of procrastination.

Take today, for example. I tried staying up late last night, thinking that numbing myself into brain-deadness with lack of sleep would help, but all it did was make me less able to focus, and I've been having tons of trouble focusing on anything already these last few weeks.

Then I tried getting up really early after very little sleep in an attempt to just force it all to be done before the deadline (which was this morning), but I felt like I was coming down with the flu this morning, slept 2 hours past my alarm, and dragged myself up at 5:30 only to get a text message from my client's mother telling me he's still sick and won't be in school. I tried to shrug that off and finish the paperwork anyway, but having been let off the hook for the entire day, I gave up after two attempts at sitting down and crawled miserably back into bed where I've been all morning.

This afternoon I tried again. I really did. I cleared off my desk yesterday so my paperwork is all on there nice and neat and surrounded by clean desk instead of piles of distractions. My computer is still in need of repairs so I don't have to worry about sitting there and staring at that little Firefox logo on the screen. I put my iPod on random and turned it to the perfect background noise volume to drown out Rick's little snores (because he worked 2pm-7am) and made sure I was warm enough and had food and tea.

And then I sat there, finished calculating my hours on my timesheet, put a header on a progress note and stared at the black LCD on my desk and wondered whether I should go get a cloth with water or alcohol to clean off the fingerprints on it, and decided to come over to the living room to blog about it.

It's not that I have no willpower. I managed to get the dishes done yesterday, did the laundry, cleaned the litterbox, and spent about two hours on and off cleaning my desk and filing the resulting piles of paperwork, as unpleasant as that was (some of it had been there since March of last year, when I had my little upheaval and gave up on everything), but I only wrote out two notes (that's about 7 minutes of work) all day, despite not having anything else to do because my client that afternoon called off too. It's just that when it comes to this damned paperwork, it gets harder and harder to force myself to do it every week to the point that I find myself actively searching for other things to keep me busy just so that I have an excuse for not doing it. It's not hard, per se, and it only takes about 15 minutes per sheet, but I just can't sit down and do even one sheet at a time, even with taking breaks or rewarding myself (rewards are their own problem because all I want is to get away from the paperwork. Food doesn't help, media is too distracting, craft projects are hard to put down halfway through to go back to work).

I know I should just sit myself down and DO IT, but my frustration level is getting really high just thinking about it. I suppose I should at least try, before I end up doing it tomorrow morning at 4am.


Augh.

What's Cookin'

We're not exactly rolling in money especially since my student loans came due, but thanks to Uncle Sam we were eating enough, most of the time. My biggest struggle has been finding food that is quick and easy to make, but keeps well because I have 3 days a week where I'm home for 10 minutes in the afternoon after a 6 hour day at school, and want to eat before I run back out the door for another 3-4 hours. Usually this results in Ramen being used as a stopgap meal till I can get home for a proper dinner. Well, today I found out that we've lost our gov't subsidized meals (aw, shucks) and I finally got fed up... and made enough to feed both of us all week!

We had a ~20lb turkey sitting in the fridge thawing all last week, waiting for a roaster pan (and waiting for me, apparently, because Rick isn't a turkey fan and wanted suggestions). We don't have a roaster pan and our largest baking dish is too small for a large turkey. What to do?

What I did was get up enough motivation to play butcher, which was both amusing and educational (ever had to find a turkey's shoulder joint and cut through the ligaments to separate it?). We thankfully have the right kitchen knives for this task, and none of the blood spilled all over the table was mine (for once - remember kids: always cut away from yourself when using a sharp knife!). In the end, the carnage was complete - the turkey's chest cavity was halved and re-stacked with potatoes and carrots and green onion inside and around him in our little baking pan, and he was buttered up and tucked in the oven (it's going on 4.5 hours now - he's almost done and juicy as can be!). Drumsticks (both thighs and shoulders) were ziploc'd and re-frozen for later meals. The wings, the neck, and all the innards were dropped in the crock pot with another potato and carrot, some water, seasonings and about a cup of black bean broth from the beans I'd been simmering all morning in a fruitless attempt to soften them (the few beans that made it into the crock pot with the broth did soften up, so there's hope for the rest!).

When I came back from 2 hours at work, the house smelled like heaven. Now I've got several servings of crock-pot stew to freeze for later, and another couple servings of turkey and veggies to serve over rice or with biscuits and turkey gravy from the pan, or what-have-you, and I'm more pleased than the cat who ate the canary.

I guess there's really something to say for this buying and cooking in bulk thing (although the turkey was a Christmas gift from Rick's company, so it was technically free). I used:

2 old potatoes
2 old carrots
a handful of old green onions (peeled and diced, threw out the wilted tops)
Spices (pepper, salt, paprika, onion powder, oregano on the baked turkey and sage and a bay leaf in the crock pot)
A free christmas turkey

...and I got enough to feed our family of 2 for at least a week's worth of lunches and dinners, with a little more left over (still 1 carrot and 2 potatoes left - thinking of stuff'd baked potatoes later this week).

Rick's been experimenting with bannock, too, which is a terribly heavy flatbread and so quick and cheap to make that we'll eat well even without any money for food... which is good, because while we're making too much money for assistance programs, we're still not sure where our food money is going to come from. But hey - as long as we can make do with homemade bread, rice, black beans, and the leftovers from our turkey, we'll eat for another month, and probably much healthier than the neighbors!

Eureka!

While link-surfing tonight and educating myself on the psychological signs and effects of panic, I stumbled upon a treasure trove of interesting stuff; if I wanted to I could be up all night reading, and pondering, and researching just for kicks.

Three articles on Gladwell.com (by Malcom Gladwell, journalist and author of "Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking - a 2005 NYT Bestseller which I sadly haven't read) caught my eye tonight, all along the same lines - success; notably, how to predict it. Most Likely to Succeed, Late Bloomers, and The Uses of Adversity are all fascinating looks into what makes success, and why our methods for picking out potentially successful people may not always work - especially in certain fields. Teaching is apparently one of those (who'd have guessed? *cough*).

Late Bloomers thoroughly explores the stereotype that genius is destined to be recognized in youth, with examples like Robert Frost, who published nearly half his great works after the age of 40... and compares the kind of slow, perfectionist, directionless learning practiced by older "masters" of an art with the fast-paced, goal-oriented, immediate results of young genius. I place myself firmly in the former category both with relief and regret - I have always felt like I wasn't living up to my potential and wondered if I could have been a smashing success by now, but it feels good to know that I might still have time to work out the kinks in my presentation.

Adversity ties nicely in with that theory of late blooming, telling us that sometimes, it takes an outsider to scramble one's way up to the top and stay there, as opposed to the well-cushioned, well-bred and well-intentioned Yale grads who make it there and then fall off the pinnacle, much to the surprise of those around them.

And I'll leave you with a few quotes from Most Likely to Succeed, because Mr. Gladwell sums it up in a better manner than I can, even if he is verbose about it:

"Eric Hanushek, an economist at Stanford, estimates that the students of a very bad teacher will learn, on average, half a year's worth of material in one school year. The students in the class of a very good teacher will learn a year and a half's worth of material. That difference amounts to a year's worth of learning in a single year.

...many reformers have come to the conclusion that nothing matters more than finding people with the potential to be great teachers. But there's a hitch: no one knows what a person with the potential to be a great teacher looks like.

...Educational-reform efforts typically start with a push for higher standards for teachers—that is, for the academic and cognitive requirements for entering the profession to be as stiff as possible.

... A group of researchers—Thomas J. Kane, an economist at Harvard's school of education; Douglas Staiger, an economist at Dartmouth; and Robert Gordon, a policy analyst at the Center for American Progress—have investigated whether it helps to have a teacher who has earned a teaching certification or a master's degree. Both are expensive, time-consuming credentials that almost every district expects teachers to acquire; neither makes a difference in the classroom."

...Perhaps no profession has taken the implications of the quarterback problem more seriously than the financial-advice field, and the experience of financial advisers is a useful guide to what could happen in teaching as well. There are no formal qualifications for entering the field except a college degree. Financial-services firms don't look for only the best students, or require graduate degrees or specify a list of prerequisites. No one knows beforehand what makes a high-performing financial adviser different from a low-performing one...

...Ed Deutschlander, the co-president of North Star Resource Group, in Minneapolis, says that last year his firm interviewed about a thousand people, and found forty-nine it liked, a ratio of twenty interviewees to one candidate.

...Deutschlander interviews a thousand people to find ten advisers. He spends large amounts of money to figure out who has the particular mixture of abilities to do the job. "Between hard and soft costs," he says, "most firms sink between a hundred thousand dollars and two hundred and fifty thousand dollars on someone in their first three or four years," and in most cases, of course, that investment comes to naught. But, if you were willing to make that kind of investment and show that kind of patience, you wound up with a truly high-performing financial adviser.

...What does it say about a society that it devotes more care and patience to the selection of those who handle its money than of those who handle its children?"

If you have the time, I suggest reading all 3 articles in their entirety - I'm going back for more.

Notification

Crossposted from here:

Until further notice, the wedding ceremony is canceled. We will still be getting the marriage license and taking care of the legal end of things, if you are interested in signing as a witness for us or just being there for the "big day".

Planning was slow from the start but lately we haven't gotten anything done and I have come to the conclusion that it's just not meant to happen right now. Our funding isn't there, and neither is my drive to search for another 40 hours for a site that is within our budget, can hold 150+ people, allows alcohol, doesn't force their own catering on us, has parking and is centrally located. We have decided instead to invite a few people to be there when we sign the marriage license in a few months and to plan for a larger ceremony later when we can afford it and aren't as stressed.

This means:

* The bridal party is invited to come out and see us, but as most of you are rather far from Indiana, I won't blame you for not showing up. We'll just have to plan visits soon, as jobs and weather allow it.
* Family members are certainly welcome as well, but again as most of you are somewhat busy and none are right here we'll work out visits within our means and celebrate with you all then.
* Wedding gifts, while accepted, are not necessary. We currently have everything we need to set up a new home, except funding. If you are planning a gift, please consider helping us with buying a home - we would greatly appreciate it! Thank you!

There is no official date for the marriage as of yet, but we will let you know when we set one. Thank you all for your support!

~ Dawn

Lists:

1. Are a good way to organize thoughts.
2. Help us prioritize.
3. Can be:
....a. spoken
....b. written
....c. drawn
....d. read
....e. crossed out
.[x]f. checked off
....g. rewritten
....h. scribbled
....i. typed
....j. sung
....k. and more.
4. Look nice, especially on properly lined paper.
5. Make good meme formats.
6. Are easily turned into Outlines.
7. Provide:
....a. information
....b. amusement
....c. motivation
8. Can be used to procrastinate.
9. Are sometimes turned into poems.
10. Break down information into easy-to-understand chunks, to help us process it all.
11. Can be used to show pros and cons of important decisions!
12. Are in .txt files all over my desktop.
13. Fit on post-its, even if the post-its don't stick to anything very well.
14. Help with the shopping.
15. Remind us who to send Christmas cards to.
16. Invite others to read over our shoulders while writing them.
17. Have been seen as a threat.
18. Have been used to punish.
19. Are used by bureaucrats to...
....a. Call upon
....b. demand
....c. urge
....d. endorse, and
....e. request.
20. Don't actually seem to work for the bureaucrats.
21. Help us remember what to do next.
22. Make us look busy.
23. Add an air of authority to the listed items.
24. Give us something to read in the doctor's office.
25. Are the favored format of much of pop culture ("Top 10", anyone?)

I think I may start writing my "To-Do" lists in pictograms, just for kicks.

Dirt = Crime?

This story fascinated me.

We all have things that red-flag as "criminal" or "suspicious" to our brain - things that for the most part lie in stereotypes of behaviors we've seen before. It is nothing new to say that if I see a movie about gang colors I'll be on the lookout for them when I go into the city. But does seeing evidence of criminal activity (graffiti, drug use) make us more likely to bend the rules? If so, does seeing evidence of criminal deterrence (neighborhood watch signs, impeccably clean areas) produce the opposite effect? Why?

The article mentions that the study's results show a pretty clear spike in minor criminal behaviors (cutting through a gap in fences, tossing litter) when people are presented with an area in which minor crimes (graffiti, locking bikes to a fence next to a "do not lock bikes here" sign) had already been committed. But what of an area in which no crimes were visible - it was just dirty?

I personally don't see dirt as automatically pointing to criminals or criminal behavior, although there does seem to be a strong correlation these days between how clean one's house is, and how high one's income level is, making a strong case for the poorest of us (who are also the ones more likely to commit minor crimes, if you believe statistics) also being the dirtiest - either through lack of caring or lack of cleaning products. But I don't try to add to the mess when I walk through a particularly untidy part of the neighborhood... nor do I get the urge to steal bicycles there. But how many people would? Is it possible that crimes are more common in dirty, run-down areas of cities only because that's where the criminals feel most comfortable committing them, despite the fact that police concentration is likely higher in those parts? If we removed all the police presence from the most wealthy parts of town for a few days, would crime rates rise there? What if we scattered graffiti on the walls of the McMansions?

It's an interesting study, and I'd love to see more that replicate these results in different areas and conditions. If the human mind associates dirt with criminal behavior, I want to know where that idea came from - although I'll probably still let my kids play in the mud.

Well, I was tired...

But as usual my brain doesn't sleep. I was thinking about first one thing and then another having to do with school today and the various frustrations of working with Instructional Aides who just don't "get it" and a new teacher who has simply adopted much of what the old one did without questions - which means I am stuck asking them, if I dare (and I don't, because a TSS who upsets the classroom too much is a TSS without a job).

But on to the main point - my own school experiences. I thought myself into the train of thought that goes something like this: "I wonder what my elementary school is like now... I wonder if I'd run into any of my old classmates if I went by the Shur-Fine in town now... and whether they'd recognize me... do I remember any of them? Huh, I don't think I do. There was that Lisa somebody, and Joel... Osomething? And... oh, hey, I don't think I even remember my teachers' names."

And so on. But the fact is, I really don't remember much of my childhood. There are a few fuzzy memories, tattered around the edges and entirely without context, floating in a sea of blank faces and forgotten lessons. I remember, for instance, the exact day I learned to braid while playing with a horse (it was a bright lavender horse with a pink mane and tail, and it was during afternoon recess indoors, which means it was probably raining or snowing at the time, although I can't remember that part at all). I think it was third or fourth grade, which are my best remembered years of school. I was terribly excited by the sudden realization that I could braid, and showed off my horse's newly braided tail to all the other girls, only to hear that they already knew how to braid and were not at all impressed. Thinking back on it, I realize that at least a few of them had to be lying, likely out of jealousy... but my own self-concept back then was already of being the "weird kid" and I took the girls' disinterest as yet another sign that they had excluded me from the club when it was time for everyone else to teach each other how to braid.

Isn't that a weird memory to have? I remember writing a story too - it couldn't have been the first story I wrote in school, but it was unique because we had to use just a few pictures cut out from magazines, and make a story around them. I wrote about a little girl and a herd of wild horses (I spent half the first lesson time rooting through the picture pile for one of a horse!)... and I was so proud to write my finished copy neatly on a piece of green paper (it was for Christmas, I think - the paper we "published" on was green and red) and see it hung in the hall!

The strange thing is that those few memories are all I have. After fourth grade, everything just blurs into a feeling of being entirely lost. I switched schools for fifth grade in the district next door because our elementary school hadn't had a fifth grade at that point, and I moved on to the huge, prison-block high school in sixth. I remember the high school because it was a gigantic tiny-windowed three-story brick edifice that towered over the farmland around it like some kind of sinister unnamed government project, and the interior design didn't help the effect. For a lanky, late-to-puberty, highly reflective and extremely self-conscious "freak" like me my sixth grade class was probably the worst environment I could have been planted in, and the effects of that single year are clear even a decade after, if you know what to look for. But I don't -remember- any of it clearly. Not even the dark-haired girl who tormented me endlessly, whose name I swore I'd never forget (I also swore to myself that I'd one day mash her face into a pulp in front of the rest of the class). I find it both disconcerting that most of my "formative years" seems to have gigantic gaps, and strangely comforting that I really could let all of it go when it seemed like I'd never get away from it.

Maybe memory loss isn't such a bad thing after all. If nothing else, it makes forgiving a heck of a lot easier.

Well, we let them slip THAT one through...

It seems that "thinking of the children" has gone a bit too far.

And here is a "clarification" from a (former - wonder what she did wrong?) spokesperson for the CPSC.

What's next? Banning untested pets because of allergen issues?

And to all, a good night.

Well, Merry Christmas. Rick worked last night so I stayed up till 1 all by myself, then slept till 5 and got up again to welcome him home at 6. Then back to bed till 10, and up to feed the pets and survey the apartment. I cleaned some of the kitchen yesterday; today will be the bathroom and maybe the bedroom while I finish the laundry. At least I can give us the gift of a clean house this year. He works again tonight, 10pm to 6am. At least we'll have time for dinner before he goes.

When I got up at 5, it was all quiet and dark like it used to be when we were little and would get up to check our stockings before mom and dad were awake. Out of some last upwelling of childhood hope I went to the living room as though there would somehow be a tree there all lit up and sparkling. Of course, the only lights were the LEDs from the speakers and computer. Christmas has entirely lost its magic for me this year.

It's almost New Years' again. Another calendar change, revisiting resolutions... I didn't complete mine this year. Aside from fumbling through some wedding plans, not a single goal on my list was realized. I blame some of that on the major upset in March that caused me to spend an extra summer in college, but the rest of the blame lies solely on my lap for not just doing it.

I fail at self motivation. Which is hard for me to say, because I have such big, glorious plans for my life - but they'll never be any closer to achievement if I can't even keep a resolution to keep the kitchen clean. I've been trying to develop better habits, but obviously not hard enough. And so I'm tossing out specific resolutions for the coming year, and focusing on just doing what needs to be done without making excuses or avoiding it. I figure if I can do that, my life might be a lot better... and I'll probably develop some good habits along the way.

Merry xmas!

This is a photo of a christmas card I got from one of my online friends. What does it say that I can't see my family for xmas and haven't gotten anything in the mail from any of them, whether or not they expected to see me this year, but I've gotten cards from 4 people who I've never met in person? To be fair, my family has never been big on cards and it's been years since I even talked to my aunt and uncle in CA, let alone gotten a gift from them (or given them one), but still, it kinda stings. Especially when every aunt Rick has is sending him a card at the very least.

A sense of community is a great thing and I'm glad that I have that with someone, even if I can't hug them for the holiday wishes.

I WON!

....and that is all. NaNo's word counter shorted me by 22 words after I tried to validate with 50,001 the first time, but it was all good. I crossed the finish line at just after 10pm and am now basking in the glory of having written 20k words in two days to finish my novel in the sloppiest and least coherent manner I have ever written. But it's ok, because I'll be editing it in January, I swear...

Along the way:
I made some new friends, drank more tea than I had all year previous to November, used Write or Die several times to meet with great wordcounts each time (something about the screen turning red on kamikaze mode before it deletes your words with as much gusto as a machine can muster really kept me typing!), ate lots of muffins, canned spagetti-o ripoffs and assorted other microwaveable foods, worked 20+ hours a week the first 3 weeks, managed to get all of my paperwork done, kept the dishes washed and the laundry done, nearly stabbed my laptop screen, punched my laptop, dropped it, carried it around with me like a baby, stayed up late to write, thought I would quit 3 times, and finally had my laptop die on me.

Yes, it died. Or rather, the LCD died. Not sure quite how but I think it started with the screen warping when I left the poor thing on overnight a few times several months ago, and it only got worse from there. I never did diagnose the problem, but it had been getting worse (displaying lines down the screen, fuzzing out, going shades of white or purple and freezing up, etc) and could generally only be fixed by a chip clip in the top corner of the screen. Of course it had to completely die on the last day, or more accurately just a few hours before validation was set to close. Talk about frustrating... I might have hit it a few times, but it was already entirely dead so it's not like that hurt it much. Guess it's time for a new laptop. :/

But at least I won National Novel Writing Month for the first time since I started participating six years ago. Whew, what a month.

Kitten

Aw. Naturally as soon as I took this he rolled over!

Stressssssssss.

Today was one of those days that I can only describe as "AAAAARGH."

In short, my client screamed a lot, was uncooperative except for a half hour in Kindergarten, and then fell asleep at 1:30, leaving me with another 1.5 hours of unbillable time on my hands and a gregarious temp aide who decided that since I wasn't with a student I must not have anything to do. I didn't get any paperwork done. Nor did I get any writing done for the third night in a row, and it's now 10pm, although to be fair I did sleep from 5:30 to 7:30. I've had a confusing sleep pattern the last few days, too. I've been going to bed early, sleeping in as much as possible in the morning, and dozing off for hours during the afternoon. It doesn't help that I'm -always- cold, and the bed is the warmest place in the house except in front of the mini heater, and this morning I woke up with the left side of my sinus cavities completely congested.

Oh, and the landlady is now showing the apartment all week long, and we've had to spend time cleaning it up properly for showcasing the lovely large kitchen with its sloping floor and the door that we stuffed foam around and masking-taped shut because otherwise there's a draft coming in around it that feels like someone turned on an industrial fan and pointed it at the house.

I hate winter. I think I should be allowed to hibernate.

Just another NaNo update...

Write or Die is my NaNo salvation:

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I'm now at 28,088 words and am going to write a bit more before bed to give myself a comfy little cushion on which to lean back during this week, as I expect I'll be starting 4 more hours of work this week with a new client so I'll have far less time to write. But more money is a good thing, too... this novel probably won't make any, after all.

Winning!

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50wpm for 40 minutes straight isn't too bad after a full day of work and being sleepy besides. I think I might actually make it to 50k this year... and I'm having an awful lot of fun with my characters' internal monologues.