fatigue

(Wo)Man Makes Plans

and God laughs. That’s the expression, right? I’m making plans anyway. Well, I’m thinking about making plans, and we’ll see what happens. There’s only so many days I can walk around sniveling before I can’t stand myself anymore.

Even Little Incredibly Dumb Dog looks bummed, and she truly is too dumb to be depressed. 😉

Several years ago it occurred to me that people need stuff to look forward to. This is a problem when you’re stuck in the endless grind of life on the Fringe. I came home from taking Flower Child to school yesterday morning to find that Big Senile Dog had gone out to the terrace while I was gone–my fault, I shouldn’t have left that door open–and torn into a bag of garbage that was left out there. Yanno, so they wouldn’t make a mess while I was out. Once upon a time he would have eaten everything in there, pistachio shells, tea leaves, and coffee grounds, while Little Incredibly Dumb Dog took care of the tissues and tea bags. She did eat all of the paper stuff, but. By now even he knows he can’t eat that stuff, so instead, all that crud was ground into and under the rubber flooring stuff I have down to protect the concrete. Fantastic.

No shame.

There I was, thinking about nothing to look forward to and how many years it’s been since I really had a day off. If you’re curious, it’s almost 19 years. Man Child will be 21 in a couple of weeks. Husband and I went to Aruba for a long weekend when MC was 2. 21 years since I had a day off *to myself.* And then I was thinking about submissions, querying, and Astonishing. The unpredictable nature of this business I’m trying to get myself into. Well, what can I realistically do about all of this? What is/can be within my control? Two plans conceived.

First, today is a #MSWL day on twitter. That’s when certain agents and editors post their “manuscript wish lists” under the hashtag MSWL, tweeting what they’d like to see come across their desks. I’m watching, in hopes of seeing magical realism, literary fiction, dark lit fic…anything that would reasonably seem like a potential match for Astonishing, and then I will query those agents. I hope. A lot of the agents expected to participate seem to be more focused on Young Adult, Middle Grade, New Adult, but I’m watching. The best part of this is no twitter pitching. I suck at Twitter. Seriously, I can’t quite get the hang of it. I’d blame my age, but that’s a blatant lie. Plenty of people my age and older who are twitter-savvy.

Second, I decided I’m going to go away for a couple of days when Big Senile Dog dies. By myself. No, his death isn’t imminent, but he is elderly and going. Could be a month, six months, two years, but it gives me something to look forward to and a chance to save my pennies. No, I can’t do this before he dies. The logistics of getting him and Little Incredibly Dumb Dog walked and taken care of, Flower Child taken care of, too much/too expensive. I mentioned this to Husband last night, I think he was horrified by my cold and calculated look at the future. The big non-secret is that he adores this dog he didn’t want more than any of us. Not enough to walk him, but adores him nonetheless.

For today, I’m going to watch the Twitter feed and create a playlist for my little eventual trip. That’s the plan, anyway.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JljT3f8uV1g

Low

One of those days, yanno? Can’t quite get myself going. I’m certain much of it is because I was sure yesterday was Thursday and woke up thinking, “At least it’s Friday.” Surprise for me, it’s only Wednesday.

The girl saw the puzzle doctor yesterday, not so much fun.

Man Child went back to school. We’re going to miss him, but I know he was more than ready. For a last hoorah, he made bear claws with Flower Child.

Why yes, they do taste as good as they look.

One last dinner, I made a stir fry. Actually two, one for the vegetarians and one for the flesh eaters.

In between writing projects, I feel a little bit adrift. This is fine, I’m not ready to start a new WIP (though there is a little seedling of an idea trying to put down roots). It’s good to rest and recharge before getting lost in a new world. The only problem is it leaves me looking around at my real world, noticing the dust on the furniture, the stains in the sinks, and the fucking freezing temperature outside.

I would like something tangible to look forward to. I have to think about what it can be. Something realistic and within my control. Any ideas?

In the meantime, I give you my latest attempt to capture the moon. This batch seemed more fuzzy than the last batch, but I’m fascinated, trying to figure out what the green splotch is.

Is the green thing a star? Planet?

Sorting through the moon photos put this song in my mind, and it doesn’t want to leave. I figure if I post it here, I’ll pass it on.

What Big Stones You Have, Mrs Fringe

A rock, an island 😉

While getting ready to take Flower Child to art class this morning, I thought about the weather being nicer than it has been, I didn’t have to wear the megaboots, a couple of hours to myself…I’m a rebel, I have big ones– I’ll take the camera, and go into Central Park, take some pictures. I didn’t talk myself out of it, didn’t think about the fact that warmer doesn’t = warm, didn’t think about being tired, maybe I’d be better off just sitting on the couch and zoning out. I remembered to take the camera.

I didn’t remember to check if the camera battery was charged, and I didn’t think about a warmer day meaning the paths would be muddy and icky. So much like the rocks of Central Park, my stones aren’t quite as natural and rugged as they first appear.

Most of the rocks in Central Park were deliberately chosen and placed in the plans.

With my comfy old barely more than slippers squishing when they weren’t slipping and the red battery alert flashing, I figured I’d walk anyway, until the battery completely died.

Nope, doesn’t make me want to run.

The mainstay wildlife of the city, unimpressed by rising real estate prices or the polar vortex, they’re staying and they’re eating.

Sparrow?

These guys were finding plenty to eat.

The reservoir looked perfect, I wish had that damn back-up battery with me.

More than half frozen

Birds going wild.

This blue jay? made me think of my wanna be writing career. Out of season, he was loud, I stalked him from tree to tree, could see him way up high but every time I raised my camera he took off again. I squinted and got this one shot of his tail feathers way, way above me.

The last shot before the camera completely shut down.

Friday Photos

I’m sure I intended to write a pithy, insightful post today. Sorry. The last several days have been a marathon of working on Astonishing. I typed THE END a couple of hours ago, and I’m so drained I feel gutted. Crap, I think Little Incredibly Dumb Dog is playing with my small intestine.

I took my camera with me the other morning and shot some New York morning photos on the way home from taking Flower Child to school. A couple of cool fog photos, and several of the ongoing and ever popular construction around the city.

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Your Call Cannot be Completed as Dialed

Phones are dead. (Photo credit: nicadlr)

Between Husband and I, we have spent oh, I don’t know…4000 hours on the phone and in the store over the past few days, trying to clear up our cell phone account. I think I mentioned in my last post, but maybe not, someone somehow used our account to purchase 4 new iPhones and add 6 lines to our account. Oh, the joys of technology, it makes life so much easier, doesn’t it?

We thought we cleared it up the day before Christmas. Then we thought we cleared it up the day after Christmas. Then we were certain we cleared it up yesterday. Our contract is up, Man Child and I are due for upgrades. Perfect timing, because the week between Christmas and New Year’s is when the cell phone stores push the sales. Yay! This was the first time in years that my cell phone didn’t completely die before Christmas in the time frame when our contract was up. Because no, I will not replace my phone until and unless I’m due for an upgrade. The full retail prices on these things are ridiculous, I don’t care if I spend 8 months with the phone held together by duct tape.

Man Child and I went into the store yesterday, ready to get new phones and downgrade our plan. We’ve been paying a ludicrous monthly bill for what we use. Woo hoo, I’m psyched, I’m finally going to get the phone I’ve been wanting for years, at the price I’m willing to pay. Which, for the record, is free. (Once I get my rebate.) It isn’t the most current model, but groovy enough for me. Only we couldn’t, because the cell phone carrier is now on the case, making sure no fraud occurs. Isn’t there an expression about that, something about a barn door, free milk, escaped horse, something?

An open door (Photo credit: Juha Riissanen)

Even though the extra lines and charges had been removed from our account, as far as the carrier was concerned, we already re-upped our plan and got new phones. I couldn’t take care of it in the store, because the account is under Husband’s name. Grrrrr. Fine. We leave, Husband calls and spends another 3 hours on the phone with the carrier this morning to clear it all up and make sure I’m an authorized something or other to make decisions and handle problems. For the record, Husband doesn’t even use this carrier anymore, because of their exorbitant prices and previous bullshit over the years. Man Child and I still use them/the plan, along with Mother-in-Law. M-i-L because it’s easier for her, Man Child because they have the best signal at and near his school, and me because they have the best overall coverage in the country, and there have been several times already when we’re out of town and Husband’s phone doesn’t work but mine does. One of us has to have a working phone all the time. Two kiddos away at school, another one with medical needs, someone has to be reachable, no?

So, Man Child and I went back to the store this morning. Picked out our phones–again–go through a thing with the salesman. He was pleasant, but of course, trying to make the best sale he could. I get it, this is how he pays his bills. But no, I’m sure we can and are going to downgrade our plan, and no, $350 worth of protection plans aren’t worth two free cases. Really. I’m sure. M-i-L doesn’t need or want a smart phone. I need a lower phone bill each month. OK, we establish what info we need transferred from our old phones to the new ones, and the salesman begins to process the order. But wait!

A stopped press (Photo credit: slambo_42)

First, I get a phone call on my cell from the fraud department requesting permission to process the order because our account is now flagged. Thumbs up. Surprise! Order still can’t go through. There’s a mysterious something pending on our account. A mysterious something we didn’t authorize or pay for. Ummm, get rid of it? The salesman, who started out so smooth and friendly when I first met him on Saturday afternoon, is now growling into the phone with whatever department is supposed to take care of this, stabbing the digit keys with his index finger as he dials. Again. and Again. Apparently, they’re just as quick to disconnect calls from store employees as they are customers. Seems to me if you’re a phone company you should be able to transfer a call without disconnecting it, but perhaps I set the bar too high.

While he’s on hold, I try to convince him he should give us free phone cases for our troubles, while he looks me straight in the eye and explains it doesn’t work that way, how it isn’t really our loss or trouble, it’s the phone company who took this huge hit, so there’s no reason to expect any courtesy/compensation. Really? This is my fault that someone, somewhere, didn’t make an effort to confirm it was truly Husband making these HUGE purchases and changes to our account; an account we’ve had with them for ten years now–for phones they charge hundreds of dollars for, that cost them about 10 cents to make? No reason for a major phone carrier to extend courtesies despite the fact we’ve now wasted many, many hours on this? Heh.

At this point, I’m losing it. This is too much like shopping, and I’m starting to look and feel like a 9 year old with a serious case of ADHD who didn’t take her meds. I should be home. Sleeping. Playing with Flower Child. Writing. Reading. Listening to Nerd Child tell me about his most recent research on something serious and intense that I don’t understand but love hearing his passion. Anything but standing in the middle of this fucking store getting absolutely nowhere.

Man Child goes out and gets us coffee. While the salesman on the phone is dealing with the vortex of the fraud department, we chat with another salesman who had helped me the last time I got a phone, over two years ago. Seems like a genuinely friendly young man, we chat about New York and life while pretending the other salesman isn’t about to have a stroke on the phone with fraud and my head isn’t about to explode from this ridiculous level of bullshit. I take the opportunity to do some shameless self promotion and plug Mrs Fringe, Man Child goes out and brings back breakfast. Our salesman, still on the phone.

We’re now back home, with one very costly migraine, but no new cell phones. Why? Because now the fraud department is being extra cautious, and even though I was added as an authorized user/decision maker/bill payer this morning, they decided I can’t exercise my glorious power of handing over my debit card, with my name, and my identification, without Husband either there in person or on one of the cell phones from this plan. Husband is at work. With his cell phone, which is not one of the ones from this overpriced quagmire of a cell phone company.

Thirty minutes. I’m willing to give thirty more minutes to this tomorrow, before I tell this company and their fraud department to kiss my rapidly spreading middle aged butt (not the individual store or salesmen, because they were quite nice and did what they could from their end) and go buy a phone elsewhere, with a month to month contract. In case of emergency, send smoke signals.

Can You Hear Me Now? (Photo credit: jeffsmallwood)

All the World is Waiting For You

Here we are, post Christmas and pre New Years and I have a confession to make. I had a fabulous Christmas.

Here I am, just like Wonder Woman. Except for the boobs.

Excuse the pj’s. See those fingerless glove thingies? They’re warm, and fabulous, and I loooooove them. Actually, when it comes to the stuff of gifts, I kind of racked up this year. I feel embarrassed by my good fortune. Everything I received was something I’ve wanted for a long time, or would have wanted if I thought of it, and I’ve got a goofy grin looking at the boxes and bits of wrapping that still litter the living room. Fringelings and Husband, also happy.

As you can tell, I’m not one of those who obsesses about the placement of each ornament.

As I get older, I’m getting better about letting go of things that don’t matter. I used to spend way too much time and effort picking just the right tree. This year we gave Nerd Child money and sent him to the corner to pick one. He is not one to obsess over these things. Guess what? It was absolutely fine. Decorated and hung with our old familiar lovelies, it was more than fine, it was a perfectly Fringe-y Christmas. Ornaments from places we’ve visited, different times in our lives, gifts from friends and family.

A handblown ornament I loved was knocked off by one of the beasts. Smashed. I wish it hadn’t, but it’s ok. Here I am, proof of emotional maturity. We won’t mention the huge meltdown I had when I didn’t see my cake stand when I woke up in the morning. Guess I’m a work in progress, after all. Turns out Man Child put it away in a place I didn’t think of, to protect it from Big Senile Dog, since he doesn’t seem to realize rules still apply, old or not.

She’s another favorite. That’s the bonus of choosing smaller trees, I only hang favorites. 🙂

During the day on Christmas Eve I was able to run over to my friend’s apartment and bring cookies for her and her husband. These are two of the kindest, smartest, most generous people I’ve ever known. They gave me a lovely gift, but having them in my life is a gift unto itself.

Normally, I make a big breakfast/brunch on Christmas Day (mostly prepped the night before), and we spend the bulk of the day in our pj’s chilling, playing with new stuffs, and an open door for whatever friends and family would like to drop by. Big Senile Dog and Little Incredibly Dumb Dog plant themselves next to the table, just waiting for something, anything, to be left unattended.

She scored a tissue, he’s holding out for bacon.

This year Man Child did all the breakfast prep on Christmas Eve. Good thing, because I hurt my back and just could.not.stand. for any more kitchen prep. Would have turned into a throwback to the Christmas mornings when I was pregnant and on bed rest–Christmas bagels. After the opening of the gifts, 8 gazillion cups of coffee, and breakfast, we took our time and then went to have dinner with Mr and Mrs Smitholini and their crew.

It’s been a long time since we were all together. And by all, I mean the five of us and the seven of them, plus Mrs S’s brother. Why yes, Mrs Smitholini and I were both quite, ummm, fertile in our younger years. Our kids spent a lot of time together growing up. We used to trick or treat together every year, when the Smitholinis lived in one of the outer boroughs, and I have a photo of the crew on their front steps, in costume, for about 10 years straight. Every year there was at least one more. At this point the age range is from 12 up to 22. Most not really kids anymore, all with their own lives and schedules, and a rarity to have all in one place for the day.

I hope everyone had some peace and laughter during their holiday, whichever holiday you celebrate. A moment where you felt love, kindness, and general silliness.

So yes, it was a beautiful day, peace and laughter and thankfulness. I would appreciate it regardless, but we had a particularly stressful few days beforehand. There was a glitch with our health insurance that is about 1/2 an inch from complete disaster for us, and then discovered someone hacked into our cell phone account and added 6!! lines and purchased 4 iPhones on our account. Life, keeping it real.

I woke up early today and spent an hour and a half scrubbing the stove of the blackened, greasy remnants of the past weeks’ cooking and baking frenzy. I should be working on Astonishing right now, but I’m a little stuck. Again. I hoped the fumes of bleach and Easy Off would trigger some ideas. No such luck. I’m thinking about New Years, goals for 2014, but not quite ready to write them down.

Not exactly Wonder Woman. Not a wonder, not changing the world, no satin tights. But all in all, not a bad close to 2013.

Wonder Woman Covers (Photo credit: jooleeah_stahkey)

Stuck!

Motel (Photo credit: Thomas Hawk)

I want to be home. On my comfy couch. Drinking a cafè con leche and web surfing.

Instead, I’m sitting in a motel lobby somewhere in Massachusetts, drinking piss water that came out of the coffee pot, and inhaling fumes from the vinegar they just used to wash the floor.

The plan for the weekend: road trip, pick up Man Child, see Nerd Child perform in a school production of Comedy of Errors, go home. It all went well until the going home part.

I want to say first in all seriousness, Husband is the best driver I’ve ever known. I’ve driven with him in all kinds of conditions, he’s always in control, never gets nervous behind the wheel. Never say never. After 8000 years of being together, I’ve now seen him nervous. Last night the snow was coming down so hard, straight at the windshield, no lights on the road, no plows, no salt trucks. After leaving Nerd Child’s school, we drove for over two hours. It went from well, this is annoying to breath holding, to oh shit this is downright disorienting very quickly. Got about 40 miles.

C’mon, New England, would it kill you to tell a few of the plows we saw driving to actually, yanno, put the shovel part down and plow?

Snowstorm outside Casper, WY (Photo credit: adventurejournalist)

So yes indeed, we had to find a place to crash. I’m thankful we were able to without any hassles once we were able to get off the highway. I am sitting with Man Child beside me, which is lovely. Nerd Child was fabulous onstage. And Flower Child is going to be very happy when she wakes up and sees it’s only snowing lightly now. It was scaaaary last night.

I spoke to Fatigue about an hour ago. He told me the snow has turned to rain in the city. I’m wondering if the motel has a shovel we can borrow to dig our car out. And where the nearest Starbucks is. Trust me, if you were drinking the swill I’m drinking right now you’d be crying for a Starbucks too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5jNj130ka1I

Wanna Get a Belly Fulla Beer

Ok I’m not talking about Saturday night, I’m talking about Friday Night Madness.

Generally, Husband is off on Fridays, and he orders pizza with Flower Child while I go out with Fatigue. For this month, Husband is working on Fridays. Oh NO!! I need my hour and a half of Friday Night Madness. It’s like a get out of jail free card, only it’s bitch and moan to my heart’s content, or just sit peacefully with my beer while Fatigue moans. Plus all my favorite waitresses work on Friday evening. Blargh.

The other day, on Facebook, I was in a discussion with a group of friends about soups. Try not to be jealous of my glamorous New York lifestyle. One friend mentioned onion soup made with a dark beer base, and it’s been on my mind ever since.

So, I called Fatigue and asked him if he’d like to come here instead of meeting at the bar. Flower Child was very happy. So happy she was *gasp* willing to not have pizza for dinner. On a Friday. This may not sound like much to you, Fringelings, but in our world that is huge. She adores Fatigue and hasn’t seen him in quite a while. Thumbs up. Bought beer, bought onions, Comte, baguette, all good to go.

The weather cooperated when the day started out. Windy, sideways rain, perfect soup for dinner day! I worked on Astonishing, added about a thousand words. This took three times as long as it should have because of the damned noise. They’re STILL working on that building across the street. It’s been over a year. To redo the front and the first floor, where the retail spaces are. I could have built an entire apartment building, complete with plumbing, out of Legos by now. By the time I finished writing for the day and had Flower Child back home from school, the rain was gone, the wind was gone, the sky was perfectly clear, and it was 70 degrees outside. Of course. Well forget it, I had the makings for soup, soup is what I was making.

Except I was looking at that beer and decided I’d rather drink it than put it in the soup. White wine base it is! Shoot, then I should put in a dollop of brandy for depth. (Mrs Fringe, Flower Child, and Fatigue are all vegetarians, so I use vegetable stock, not beef. Poor, poor flesh eating Husband.) I didn’t have any brandy. Or cognac. What the hell, I added a splash of Cabernet.

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A good time was had by all, Flower Child showed Fatigue all of her more recent sketches. A lovely Friday Night Madness indeed.

Happy Saturday, Fringelings!

Sleep, You Fickle Tramp

Sleeping, relaxing (Photo credit: Pascal Maramis)

Husband and I have been together a long time, but I have two relationships that are considerably longer. One is with writing, the other is with Insomnia.

Oh, Insomnia. The bitch who won’t let go. Sure there’ve been a few times in my life when I’ve managed to kick her out, but sooner or later she always worms her way back into my bed. We reached an uneasy agreement six or seven years ago. She let me fall asleep as soon as I wasn’t upright, but in exchange she’d snuggle in and slap me awake by five AM. Or four. Or three. Not fun, but doable.

Lately she’s decided she’s no longer satisfied with this arrangement. I might or might not fall asleep within an hour of lying down, but then she gives me sneaky pinches just before I ease into sleep deeper than a light snooze. This cycle repeats, over and over, until at least 3AM.

Diagram of a pinch in progress (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I get up at 5:30. This isn’t working for me. Please, I know we’ve been together forever, but would you get the fuck out? I promise not to badmouth you to our children, Anxiety and Caffeine.

Today I overslept. Really overslept.

At 7:30 Husband nudged me, “Don’t you have to get up?”

WTF? Why is he waking me up on Sunday?

“Oh shit, it’s Monday!”

I flew off the bed, woke the girl up, and got ready in record time.

Husband thinks this is a good thing, extra sleep. Not a good thing for me when this is how I get it. Yes, I need sleep, but I also need my alone time in the morning. Peaceful on my terrace with my coffee, checking emails, FB, planning my day.

Now I’m crankier than I would be on two hours of sleep, migraine starting to nibble at my temporal lobe, can’t focus enough to tell myself to settle down and focus on Astonishing, and I’m pretty sure there just isn’t enough coffee to make up for this.

So you see, Insomnia, no matter how many times we try to work out an agreement that makes both of us happy, it just never works. My Grandmother warned me about you, told me to to get involved with Money, instead, but with all the arrogance of youth, I didn’t listen.

Hippo yawn hippopotamus (Photo credit: @Doug88888)

Today’s Special: Humble Pie

Shoofly Pie (Photo credit: librarykitty)

No matter how many slices I eat, there’s always more.

We pushed forward with car shopping, out of necessity. The special joys of used car shopping with a long list of necessities, a longer wish list, and a limited budget. Conducted under a broiling sun with 95% humidity, to ensure my brain cells didn’t communicate with each other too quickly.

We were on one lot where I swear the salesman was comedian Jon Lovitz. Looked like him, spoke like him, I melted into a chair in the office, clutched my styrofoam cup of water and expected to hear, “Live, from New York, it’s Saturday NIGHT!” Of course, we were in New Jersey, but no matter.

No matter how I searched, where I searched, it turns out my idea of what I should be able to get with my money had no relationship with reality. We found a car, were treated well by the dealership we bought it through, but it has more miles on it than any used car I ever purchased. I’m trying to remind myself that the expected life span of engines/mileage is much higher than it used to be.

I thought I was too old for this. Too old to go back to the days where I’d buy something when I wasn’t 100% confident the vehicle would get me from Point A to Point B without question. At first I thought our budget was enough to buy one of those lovely used vehicles that are termed “previously owned.” You know, about two years old, just turned in at the end of a lease. Then I thought, ok, we can get something a few years older, but we’ll be able to get something that has ALL the bells and whistles, maybe 50,000 miles on it. Oh, Mrs Fringe, you foolish, foolish woman.

Wrecked car (Photo credit: The Library of Virginia)

Given the realities, I think we did ok. Several of my fish freak friends are also car buffs/mechanics, and they think I did ok, but wow. Those little ice picks through the forehead that remind me of my continuing path of downward mobility don’t stop puncturing my brain.

Buying the car was a two day process. We looked, I sat–yes indeed, with the little back problem I’ve got, top of my list of necessities was how the seats felt and whether or not there was lumbar support–test drove, sat more, looked more, went off site and had a discussion, went back and talked more, began the process, inspection and negotiation of our car for trade in value, went home to NY and got Flower Child and Nerd Child, brought them back to NJ, paperwork, call the insurance company, blah blah blah, “oops, forgot our title.” We agree to bring it back in the morning, leave a separate check for a missing title in case we’re scammers.

Went back to NJ yesterday (the car does ride nicely, everything seems to work, and it’s cleaner and prettier than it ever will be again) with the title, children, and mother in law, deal with the other miscellaneous forgotten bits of buying a car. I swear I don’t remember this ever taking so many, many hours in the past. While we’re waiting for…something, I check twitter, and see a breakdown of how many of each category (middle grade, young adult, new adult, adult) pitches have been selected for the contest I entered. Not looking hopeful for Mrs Fringe. I said some not nice words from the depths of my Brooklyn soul, and think I might have scared our salesman. Unfortunate, because he’s a cousin of Husband’s, likely I will see him again.

Done. Suck it up, take a breath, move forward. It is what it is, I am where I am, and it’s definitely a big step up from our old car by the time it was traded in.

I haven’t done any real writing in a couple of weeks. I felt stuck, I was working on the pitch for this contest (part two of said contest is Friday, so still hope), was lost on a never-ending used car lot of big numbers.

Take another breath and get your shit together, Mrs Fringe.