Backup Blues

I finally just about finished the rewrite of Butterfly’s Daughters. After my first group of readers’ suggestions, I completely rearranged how it was organized. Then I read through it and discovered I had somehow lost the conclusion to one of the subplots. Big build-up about sheep dying in the canyon and then…nothing. Hence the ‘just about finished’. I debated just cutting subplot completely but it is important in showing how slow and methodical one character is, as opposed to another who jumps in and looks eventually. And usually only after explosions, broken bones and police involvement.

“Why don’t you just go to your back up and just put it in?” you ask.

I was afraid you’d think of that. Hemming and hawing aside, I lost it. It was on a USB drive on a bracelet. I was out with my authors group and just in case my bag was stolen or lost, I didn’t want to keep it in my computer bag. I didn’t notice I’d lost it for WAY too long. I really need to back up more often. So if anyone in Oakland, Castro Valley, Hayward, Berkeley, Pleasanton, or the San Jose ice rink finds it, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE look at the file named if found please call. Or maybe San Leandro? Could be in the Emeryville IKEA. Or theater. Did I have it at the Ripon Almond Blossom Festival?

The purpose of wearing it on a bracelet was supposed to be a reminder to back up often. It was a great idea and the drive was comfortable, reasonable and proceeds go to a great cause, child literacy and encouraging young people to write. Check out the Office of Letters and Light. Great group.

Meanwhile, I will be attempting to recreate the end of that subplot. I’d like to order another bracelet flash drive but they don’t have them any more.

Needle Therapy

My doctor was showing me some exercises to get my hand back up to speed. He ended by saying I should do some exercises to develop stamina in my fingers after not being able to use them for quite some time. “Like knitting? Playing piano? Typing?” I asked and he said that would be great. So now while I am sitting on my couch, watching TV for a couple of hours and knitting a sweater for my niece, I can honestly say I’m not being lazy. I’m doing doctor ordered physical therapy.

I also heard that chocolate and red wine were good for heart health. In moderation, of course. Who can knit with a whole bottle of cabernet in them? So a couple of truffles and a glass of wine? Just trying to stay healthy.

I also heard that many injuries are caused by ‘weekend warriors’, people with rather sedentary jobs who overdo activities on weekends and get hurt. So limiting my weekend exercise to walking from the couch to the fridge or microwave and back is simply my way of preventing sports injuries.

I also heard that getting out on a regular basis to enjoy social situations is instrumental in maintaining a positive mental attitude. So my weekly BINGO night bolsters my mental health. Especially when I win. Come on, caller. I need a G-49!

Another way to keep good mental health is to have pets. With as many pets as I have, I should be in perfect mental health, except they drive me crazy. Especially Barstow, my BIG chow/Shepard/Swissie mix. He thinks he is a lap dog and likes to sleep under my desk. Unfortunately whenever he hears a noise, he stands up and whacks his head on the underside of the desk. Then he looks at me like ‘why did you hit me?’ Stupid dog. I’m going to have to look more into that one.

Drugs and other ways to make money

One Handed

After months of dropping things from dishes to stitches I finally had the surgery to remove the lump from my hand. My left hand is currently buried under a thick layer of bandages. Instead of a hand, I have a gauze club with a thumb. You have no idea how many things you use two hands for until you don’t have two hands. I couldn’t even figure out how to unfasten my bra. It sure gives me a greater appreciation for my lovely sister-in-law who lost her left arm to cancer several years ago. I spent a week with her last summer and it didn’t seem to slow her down. And I couldn’t even open a can of pet food. Sorry, guys. It’s going to be dry food for a few weeks.

It’s bad enough trying to type with one hand, but when you have angry cats wondering why they are on prison rations batting at the keyboard to get my attention, getting anything done is a joke. After I nearly lost a whole chapter when my big tomcat stepped on the ‘Backspace’ key, I gave up editing my current novel. Besides, the Rachael vs Guy Celebrity Cook-off was abut to begin. So I sat down on the couch and automatically grabbed the knitting bag. GAACKKK! I can’t knit with one hand! No wonder the doctor gave me so many drugs. So I won’t think about all the things I can’t do.

And who needs a huge bottle of Vicodin? I can’t even take a whole one without falling asleep for twelve hours. Half of one twice a day cuts the pain fine and makes me only a little loopy. I asked my daughter, who is a jailer and so I felt would know people who know people, what I could do with all these pills. Just joking, of course. “How much can I get per pill?” She asked whether I wanted juice or ramen packets. “Juice is a lot more valuable because they can make pruno out of it. You know, jail-made alcohol.” Turns out Vicodin is a valuable commodity. The hard part is tapping into the jail distribution system without getting my daughter fired. There goes that drug-induced idea.

Maybe I’ll just take another pill and sleep. Just to get me another day closer to getting the bandages off.

Song of the Dragons’ Revenge

This poem is from a work in progress. It is sung by a bard in Chapter 3. But that may change.                

Song of the Dragons’ Revenge
By cover of a moonless night
Through chilling wind, on wings alight,
They make their way in silent flight.

They came from just beyond the heath.
The acrid smell of dragon breath
The searing harbinger of death.

Talons scratch, turrets fall,
Rending stones from castle wall.
Arrow rain, but break and fall.

As dragons loose their streams of fires,
Soldiers hear their children’s cries;
Thatched roofs become their funeral pyres.

Scales gleam red by flame’s bright light
Then quick as came, the wings take flight
And disappear into the night.
　

New Year's Resolutions

New Years Resolution - n. a promise made to one’s self at the beginning of a new year that one has no inclination to keep once the hangover goes away.

Isn’t it curious that most resolutions are negative? Stop smoking. Stop drinking. Stop overeating. Stop swearing in front of the kids. Stop this, stop that. The only positive resolutions are actually negative in disguise. Lose weight. Isn’t losing a bad thing? You’d think so if you lost your dog. unless your dog was like mine, but that’s another story.

If you want to make a resolution that you stand a chance of keeping for more than the duration of your New Year’s Eve hangover, you need to be positive and specific. And you need to relate it to something you already do. “I resolve to eat eleven M&Ms every day.” I frequently eat a whole bag of them, and by bag I mean the big 16 ounce bag. By limiting my self to eleven, I cut out 15 ½ ounces of calories. If I made a resolution not to eat M&Ms, by January 6 I would be craving them and the next thing I know I am at the nearest Walmart with a cart full of nothing but chocolate that I eat before I make it back home. So by forcing myself to eat eleven, I get enough to get rid of the craving, and eventually eating M&Ms becomes a chore. Before I know it, I can’t stand to even look at the little colorful candies. Which was the desired effect in the first place. So, to make a resolution you can keep, make it positive (I WILL do this), make it specific (exactly eleven) and make it relate in some way to something you already do (eat M&Ms).

Some other examples? You want to get more exercise. ‘More’ is not specific enough. And you need to spell out when you plan to do it. So try “I will catch the bus at the second stop from my house every morning.” You only need to get moving a few minutes earlier in the morning to walk the extra block or two. You only do it five days a week, so you still get to sleep in on weekends and you already take the bus to work. Positive, specific and already something you do. Easy enough.

Or you want to quit smoking. Quit is such a negative word. Instead, schedule your cigarettes. If you usually smoke, say, an average of one cigarette per hour, schedule a smoke break at the even hours. So at 8, 10, 12, 2, 4... you have to drop whatever you are doing and smoke. When you can handle that, cut out a couple more. Then you promise to smoke once cigarette every hour that is divisible by 3: 9, 12, 3 and 6. Knowing exactly when you are going to have to smoke usually makes the cravings easy to handle. Again, positive, specific and something you already do.

Whatever you do, avoid the mistake a lot of people make and that is to make a whole list of resolutions. If you try to lose weight, exercise more and stop smoking all at the same time, you will end up not doing any of them. Choose the one that you feel is the most important. Not the one your doctor, spouse, friends or that magazine article tells you is important. The one you stick with is the one YOU feel is important. If you think they are all equal, choose the one that you will have the best chance of achieving.

And one other bit of advice regarding resolutions. Make them whenever you want. Don’t wait until New Years Day. Because that was last week and you don’t need to wait another 51 weeks to start improving your self. You deserve better than that.

Christmas Conversation with Dad

“Dad. Why do you have to have this stupid aluminum tree? Why can’t you get a real one?”

Dad just held out his hand from under the pile of bent fake branches. “Stop whining and hand me that screwdriver. One of these lights is stuck.”

Yup. My dad was nuts. Certifiable. I discretely unplugged the tree before handing him the tool. He didn’t even have the presence of mind to do that himself before shoving a tool into the ancient string of lights.

“@$)%! the whole thing just went dead!”

“Let’s go get a real tree. One that smells like Christmas.”

“Smell? Christmas smells like your Mama’s cinnamon cookies and hot coffee with lots of Bailey’s. Oh. Here’s the problem. Came unplugged. Hand me that last piece, will ya?”

“Dad. You have been using this tree since, what, 1960? It stinks like a sweaty horse. It’s all bent. And you are going to electrocute yourself if you fix it one more time. Really. I mean it. This is hazardous.”

Dad settled the last mangled heap of dusty tree on top and plugged in the last section.

There was a loud ZZZZzzzzztt! And everything went dark.

I came to first. Everything looked strange. Like little bits of color instead of smooth lines. Like the whole world was a big tapestry. I didn’t see any bits of color that looked like Dad. I started to ask about him, but jerked when I tried to talk.

“Hiccups.” The paramedic laughed. “Common side effect of electric shock. It should pass.”

My vision cleared a bit. I could see Dad was being loaded into an ambulance.

“Dad?” I finally managed to ask.

“He’ll be fine. But that tree? It’s a goner. Good thing there weren’t any presents under it yet or they’d be toast, too.”

I turned to look around. The tree wasn’t the only thing that was toast. Half the front wall of the house was smoldering. And the firemen were spraying water everywhere. Anything that hadn’t burned was now under an ocean.

Just then, mom drove up.

“Tree?” was all she could say.

I nodded.

She sighed. “Looks like we’ll be spending the holidays with you and Hank after all.


This was written in response to a challenge to write a seasonal piece using the following words:
Piece, Screwdriver, Nuts, Ocean, Tapestry, Aluminum, Cinnamon, Coffee, Presence, Presents, Hiccups, Horse

Needles

Needles, needles everywhere and nary the size I need! I am sure I buy new knitting needles every time I buy yarn. Where do they go? OK, so I found a set of double point size 3 in my silverware drawer and another set of size 5 in my jewelry box. But in the box where I am SUPPOSED to keep my needles, I have only three of any size of DPNs and only one of any size straight needles. DPNs I can understand, they frequently fall out of a knitting bag or get dropped while I am using the kirtchner stitch on the toe of a sock. But straight needles? With the knob on the end, how can I not find them? And I usually use the longest size. How can anyone lose those? And circular needles…what’s with that? I can’t begin to tell you how many size 10 1/5 24 inch needles I have lost. I vaguely remember lending one to someone, but who knows where the other I-don’t-know-how-many have disappeared to. They’re as bad as socks. In my drawer right now are 14 single hand-knit socks. It’s a good thing mis-matched socks are in fashion. I would knit another pair, but the yarn I have on hand needs size 2 DPNs. And I can only find three of my set of five. And if I go to the yarn shop to get new needles, I will end up with a truckload of yarn to add to the stash that is already overflowing the craft/sewing room, two trunks and every available surface in my living room.

The problem is: I can’t make a dent in my stash without needles.