I love learning. Learning about anything./ A new crochet stitch or pattern, a wacky animal fact from watching Dora or Diego with the kids, something about the kids or my husbands day, something about how my own mind and heart work, anything. I repeat I absolutely love learning. This even holds true for things I did not really like to know, like that the founder of my religion was a anti-Semite. Did not really want to discover that Luther had even more quirks than I thought, but I am glad to know more than I did the day before. I do not need to know many of the things I learn, but every time I learn something I become a better, more understanding person.
The more I learn, good and bad, the less I understand people on one level. I will never understand the hate people hold for those that are different, just because they are different. I can learn about one person's bad experience, bad day or something relevant to that singular individual that can help me understand their actions or words, but the hate for the sake of hate consistently escapes me. I think full understanding how to hate and fear like that is the only thing I do not want to learn.
On the other hand, the more I read, the more I learn about how other people think. How other people feel and react to things common, uncommon and completely fictional. Novels help be better understand other people's conception of humanity as well as the writer's imagination and varying styles. Non fiction shows me that even the most basic facts and figures can be slanted to fit someone's preconceived notions or left as they stand to allow others to draw their own conclusions. I have said it before, and I will say it again. I will read ANYTHING.I actually read my car manual twice since registering it last week. Once was because of brake complications (which have since been resolved) and then again yesterday to figure out some of the fancy settings for the auto almost everything.
I will read books that hold information I think I already know about gardening or plants, simply because there might be one idea that I have never considered before that might change everything. That hold true on almost every topic. I have read about several faiths, philosophies and technical subjects so that I am not ignorant on topics that can pop up in the oddest places; and specifically those which tend to polarize people. I will also pick up pure entertainment, and still come away learning something, even if it is the way to kill or defend against something completely imaginary (as far as I know..). You never know when one of those little tidbits can save your life. That zombie apocalypse is coming any day. Or is it nuclear power, global warming, Nick Gautier, the Iron Fey, Vampires, or Unicorns oh my that will bring about the end?
Apparently I need to learn got to get my two year old to sleep better so that I can, because I think this is my most rambling blog post yet.
Showing posts with label About Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label About Me. Show all posts
K is for Keep Going
K is for Keep Going, Keep it up, or any other phrase along the same lines. I need keep moving, keep doing, keep thinking. The moment I stop, ahhh, it is just that much harder to get back to going again. I made the mistake of slowing down on my research and home improvement style articles with all the changes being made at Associated Content, or should I say Yahoo Contributor Network. I started focusing on my crochet work, reading and reviewing books. All of which have their own rewards,but none of which bring in the revenue that my gardening and green related content brings me. I need to keep writing, keep thinking, keep.... but I am almost done with this sweater, need to write one more review and get back to reading galleys so that I can get those reviews up before the publication dates. And then there is the actual gardening and home improvement projects that need to get done. Keep going.. keep going.
Thank you to everyone that keeps reading and commenting! I appreciate knowing that someone is reading, eve though I am horrible about responding in kind. I read... but if I have nothing of import or wit to share I often just lurk. I am a lurker in many situations, including actual social events- I'm a fringe kind of girl. I'm getting side tracked again...
Your reading keeps me writing, keeps me thinking, and keeps me motivated. Thank you.
Thank you to everyone that keeps reading and commenting! I appreciate knowing that someone is reading, eve though I am horrible about responding in kind. I read... but if I have nothing of import or wit to share I often just lurk. I am a lurker in many situations, including actual social events- I'm a fringe kind of girl. I'm getting side tracked again...
Your reading keeps me writing, keeps me thinking, and keeps me motivated. Thank you.
J is for Joy
J is for joy. J is also for the two most important males in my life. My husband Jesse (five years and counting) and my son James, who is four. Joy is a sometimes elusive, but moments of pure joy can creep in every day. No matter how awful the day might be; kid messes, no sleep, work disasters, writing block, whatever, there is always the ability to get back to joy. If I can just remember why I put up with all the stuff that gets in the way. My reasons include my two J's, my Little L (my two year old daughter), my extended family, those I love and those that return that love even when I do not release it. That is often the hardest part, feeling and recognizing that that love is being returned in some of the more daunting moments of life. Joy can be huge and loud, or simple and quiet. Joy does not need to be found in a party or group, it can be found in a simple moment, word or interaction.
Joy can sometimes be easy to find, I think it all depends on the outlook of the moment. Simply joys should be easy to find, but often get ignored or lost in the routine or stress of the day. My simple joys? When the kids play nicely together long enough for me to string together a few sentences, thin mints fresh out of the freezer, my car starting and running smoothly, a spontaneous hug or I love you from an otherwise stoic individual, being able to walk out the door with out a coat, a beautiful sky, a peaceful evening cuddling with my husband and kitties on the couch after the kids go to sleep, singing along with the music in the car with the windows down and no fear. Sometimes these moments catch you unaware, and those often feel the best. Sometimes I need to go looking for them, set aside the time. Sometimes the joy is there, all around me, but I just do not let it in (or out). Instead of letting go and embracing the moment I can get caught up on what the next crisis might be, what is coming down the line, forgetting to savor the moment that just might be joyous if I would let it.
What are your favorite moments to take joy in? Do you have to remind yourself to let the joy in sometimes like I do?
Joy can sometimes be easy to find, I think it all depends on the outlook of the moment. Simply joys should be easy to find, but often get ignored or lost in the routine or stress of the day. My simple joys? When the kids play nicely together long enough for me to string together a few sentences, thin mints fresh out of the freezer, my car starting and running smoothly, a spontaneous hug or I love you from an otherwise stoic individual, being able to walk out the door with out a coat, a beautiful sky, a peaceful evening cuddling with my husband and kitties on the couch after the kids go to sleep, singing along with the music in the car with the windows down and no fear. Sometimes these moments catch you unaware, and those often feel the best. Sometimes I need to go looking for them, set aside the time. Sometimes the joy is there, all around me, but I just do not let it in (or out). Instead of letting go and embracing the moment I can get caught up on what the next crisis might be, what is coming down the line, forgetting to savor the moment that just might be joyous if I would let it.
What are your favorite moments to take joy in? Do you have to remind yourself to let the joy in sometimes like I do?
I is for Irritating Ignorance
I is for Irritating Ignorance. There are only a few things that can get me really, truly angry. Ignorance just bothers me beyond most other character flaws, because it often breeds bigger problems like prejudice, injustice, cruelty, indifference, intolerance and hatred. Ignorance is not the same as not having access to the information. I do not blame the people that simple cannot access the full gambit of news and information due to cray parents, government, poverty or other aspects of their life. It is the group of people that have the resources and time to read and study anything they want but chose not to. Unfortunately, these same people often share their thoughts, beliefs and view of the world with others as fact rather than what it really is. Then more people just fall in line and take everything they say at face value and spread it further to more people.
It is this sort of ignorance that irritates me. It gets me riled up and just plan mad, even if I wish what they were saying were true. Politics, religion, individual rights and freedoms are the most likely topics to suffer from this kind of irritating ignorance. Some people buy into the party line that they are fed with out reading further, examining what is being cited as source and simply going along with what they are told to believe since it is the easy way out. I personally, would rather take the next step and examine the source of information (and my heart depending on the subject at hand) and decide for myself even if the process and my final conclusion are not easy or comfortable. My stance? Help each other, read everything you can, learn everything you can, and leave race, sexual orientation, political affiliation, religious beliefs and everything else at the door. It is the heart and mind that matter- so fill those as full as you can with a wide variety of things and simply try to be the best person you can. I try not to judge anything or anyone, and if I do it is only after I feel that I have all available information (from all sides) on the topic. It is not my place to stand in judgement of anyone else. It is on me to tech my children to be good people and to be the best person I can be while causing no harm to others or the world around me.
Sorry, did not mean to get all preachy there. But all the political talk and wrangling lately seems to have gotten me more riled up than I thought.
It is this sort of ignorance that irritates me. It gets me riled up and just plan mad, even if I wish what they were saying were true. Politics, religion, individual rights and freedoms are the most likely topics to suffer from this kind of irritating ignorance. Some people buy into the party line that they are fed with out reading further, examining what is being cited as source and simply going along with what they are told to believe since it is the easy way out. I personally, would rather take the next step and examine the source of information (and my heart depending on the subject at hand) and decide for myself even if the process and my final conclusion are not easy or comfortable. My stance? Help each other, read everything you can, learn everything you can, and leave race, sexual orientation, political affiliation, religious beliefs and everything else at the door. It is the heart and mind that matter- so fill those as full as you can with a wide variety of things and simply try to be the best person you can. I try not to judge anything or anyone, and if I do it is only after I feel that I have all available information (from all sides) on the topic. It is not my place to stand in judgement of anyone else. It is on me to tech my children to be good people and to be the best person I can be while causing no harm to others or the world around me.
Sorry, did not mean to get all preachy there. But all the political talk and wrangling lately seems to have gotten me more riled up than I thought.
H is for Help
H is for Help, something that I hate admitting I need. I detest asking for, or accepting help regardless of how badly I need it. I am extremely independent, and just hate admitting that there something that I cannot handle on my own. Whether it is a physical or mental task, I want to be strong enough and smart enough to do it. Thanks to my past and experiences I generally can do for myself, thankfully. I have worked in just about every occupation. If you have been reading along you already know that I spent a good chunk of my elementary school years working in the garden and greenhouse. During the same period of time my mother was huge into canning and working with the things we grew to make them last, and make the most possible use of them. So I learned the basics of homemade everything those days as well.She also worked as a crossing guard, taught Sunday School, lead the arts and crafts center of Vacation Bible School and helped to lead my girl scout troop. So I learned arts and crafts, camping, teaching and child care at the same time.
My material grandfather began a small factory when I was in third or fourth grade. Mom began working as his secretary- but still managed to do all her other stuff as well. In the summer, when I wasn't at some kind of camp, I would spend my days at the factory as well. I swept, cleaned machines, read, drew and just spent tame with my family since they made up most of the staff. In junior high and High School I actually started doing serious cleaning and some light machine work, which got heavier as I got older and able to deal with different set ups and machines. Then came retail, serving ice cream and a bevy of other side jobs. These last four and a half years since I had my first child is the first time since I started working that I have only been doing one job outside the home.
These jobs have made me strong, I can lift and heft boxes, dig up patches of dirt, whatever I need to do. I can be artsy, crafty, read and interpretive any set of instructions, talk my way out of most situations, and generally get by regardless of what life throws at me. Sometimes I suppose I resent people that ask if I need help, because I feel like they are only offering because they think I CAN'T do something, rather than just because they want to be nice. When I would actually want help it is often a situation that I am already upset about, and feel that the person I need help from should already know it and be helping be. For instance when I just need one night or morning off from Mommy duty. Or to use the spa gift cert that was given to me last Mothers Day that I still haven't been able to use... but I digress (especially since he puts the kids to bed alone three nights a week thanks to my choir and work schedule).
Oh yeah, help. I will ask for help, on occasion. However I tend to wait until there are no other options. I will sit there and fiddle with a computer program, website, electronic gadget or anything else that is troubling me until I get it to do what I need, give up, or give in and seek assistance. I am stubborn, I know it and I see it in my kids already. Now is it because of how much random stuff I've done, because my parents are just as self reliant and stubborn as I am, or is it just my personal quirk? I do not know. Can you ask for help when you need it?
My material grandfather began a small factory when I was in third or fourth grade. Mom began working as his secretary- but still managed to do all her other stuff as well. In the summer, when I wasn't at some kind of camp, I would spend my days at the factory as well. I swept, cleaned machines, read, drew and just spent tame with my family since they made up most of the staff. In junior high and High School I actually started doing serious cleaning and some light machine work, which got heavier as I got older and able to deal with different set ups and machines. Then came retail, serving ice cream and a bevy of other side jobs. These last four and a half years since I had my first child is the first time since I started working that I have only been doing one job outside the home.
These jobs have made me strong, I can lift and heft boxes, dig up patches of dirt, whatever I need to do. I can be artsy, crafty, read and interpretive any set of instructions, talk my way out of most situations, and generally get by regardless of what life throws at me. Sometimes I suppose I resent people that ask if I need help, because I feel like they are only offering because they think I CAN'T do something, rather than just because they want to be nice. When I would actually want help it is often a situation that I am already upset about, and feel that the person I need help from should already know it and be helping be. For instance when I just need one night or morning off from Mommy duty. Or to use the spa gift cert that was given to me last Mothers Day that I still haven't been able to use... but I digress (especially since he puts the kids to bed alone three nights a week thanks to my choir and work schedule).
Oh yeah, help. I will ask for help, on occasion. However I tend to wait until there are no other options. I will sit there and fiddle with a computer program, website, electronic gadget or anything else that is troubling me until I get it to do what I need, give up, or give in and seek assistance. I am stubborn, I know it and I see it in my kids already. Now is it because of how much random stuff I've done, because my parents are just as self reliant and stubborn as I am, or is it just my personal quirk? I do not know. Can you ask for help when you need it?
G is for Gardening
Gardening is something I love almost as much as books. There is something soothing and satisfying about working with the earth and growing something edible, beautiful or both. This year I get to start fresh. New house, new backyard, newly dug garden beds and new ideas. I am chomping at the bit! I have my seeds started and so many plans that some will just have to wait until next year. Part of this excitement is because I have been gardening on such a small scale the last four years, since baby and toddler time always trumps garden time, that this is the first year since becoming a mom that I can garden to my hearts content. We now have a fenced in back yard, so I can garden and supervise the kids at the same time. And they both want desperately to help, which gives me a different set of challenges, but ones that are fun to work with.
When I was younger I had a sincere love/hate relationship with gardening. My dad is a work-a-holic, which he passed on to me. When I was in elementary school my family lived in the house where he had grown up. Once the land was a dairy farm, but there were no longer any cows. Instead there were greenhouses, a sadly sagging garage, old milking barn, and garden larger than our house.My father ran a wholesale greenhouse, supplying flowers to local stores, maintained our lawn and garden and worked full time in the banking business. The garden and lawn related work was his de stresser. I will never forget the year he received a truck load of manure as a gift, and was thrilled about it. Something gardening has become for me as well.However, when I was young I had no desire to be transplanting seedling in the stifling hot greenhouse or helping in the garden But I did, because my father was not someone that allowed no for an answer. Now he does, but only from his grandchildren.
Dad taught me so much about plants, about soil and nature that it makes me feel a lot closer to him now as we discuss or plans for growing tomatoes and strawberries. We were never very close when I was young, he was just so busy and grumpy that we did not have a close bond until I was college age. He has taught me about work ethic, being practical and being a pragmatist. He is part of the reason that every project, every gift, must have a purpose. Is it sad that I look forward to receiving garden gear and a compost bins as gifts?
My mom is the house plant queen. I have always been extremely close with my mom, we are seriously two peas in a pod. Mom was the one to help me nurture container gardens in every place I have lived since leaving home. She also shares my love for books, singing and eating tomatoes fresh out of the garden. I think gardening must be hardwired in me, or perhaps I am just full on manure.
When I was younger I had a sincere love/hate relationship with gardening. My dad is a work-a-holic, which he passed on to me. When I was in elementary school my family lived in the house where he had grown up. Once the land was a dairy farm, but there were no longer any cows. Instead there were greenhouses, a sadly sagging garage, old milking barn, and garden larger than our house.My father ran a wholesale greenhouse, supplying flowers to local stores, maintained our lawn and garden and worked full time in the banking business. The garden and lawn related work was his de stresser. I will never forget the year he received a truck load of manure as a gift, and was thrilled about it. Something gardening has become for me as well.However, when I was young I had no desire to be transplanting seedling in the stifling hot greenhouse or helping in the garden But I did, because my father was not someone that allowed no for an answer. Now he does, but only from his grandchildren.
Dad taught me so much about plants, about soil and nature that it makes me feel a lot closer to him now as we discuss or plans for growing tomatoes and strawberries. We were never very close when I was young, he was just so busy and grumpy that we did not have a close bond until I was college age. He has taught me about work ethic, being practical and being a pragmatist. He is part of the reason that every project, every gift, must have a purpose. Is it sad that I look forward to receiving garden gear and a compost bins as gifts?
My mom is the house plant queen. I have always been extremely close with my mom, we are seriously two peas in a pod. Mom was the one to help me nurture container gardens in every place I have lived since leaving home. She also shares my love for books, singing and eating tomatoes fresh out of the garden. I think gardening must be hardwired in me, or perhaps I am just full on manure.
F is for
F is for function. I am not one for fancy anything. I would much rather have a beat up bookcase or dresser that does what is suppose to, then one with all sorts of fancy detail work that might make it look nice but reduce its storage space or sturdiness. I am a practical girl, at least with everything but books. I have trouble being practical when it comes to books. I pretty much want to read anything that looks even vaguely interesting.
I like my clothes, car, furniture, whatever to be more about function than appearance. I try to match myself to that tendency. I do not like the small talk and false interactions with other people.But, I work in public so I often have to pretend. My clothes and shoes tend to be more functional that fashionable, though I will admit to loving the horribly impractical peasant blouses, empire waisted shirts and other similar items even though wearing them around my young kids is not a great idea. So, they often sit unworn in favor of more practical wear.
I am not one to offer pat advice or make a comment on an article or post just to provide the 'I read that' function. I will only do so if I feel that I have something of interest, funny or intelligent to say. I want my comments, my words, to have a function. Even my gardens and potted plants need to have more function than just looking pretty. They need to attract butterflies, provide food or herbs, or climb a chain link fence to provide more privacy. If I can combine one or more of these functions in the same space then I am even happier. Many of these plans are all still just plans, waiting for my gardening time and the weather to come together enough to allow me to get really digging.
Even my crochet and other crafting needs to be functional. I am most likely to make an afghan, sweater or something that can be useful instead of a cute critter. Although if I have the time I might do both a blanket and small stuffed toy in matching yarns. Right now it is a sweater for my son, then one for a friend, then maybe me. But, no matter the project I make sure that it will be something that can be used.
I feel guilty and indulgent when i get something because of its form rather than function. Those sandals that just look so cute, but I have no idea what I'll wear them with, or the shirt or skirt that I have no where to wear to. When I pick up those gorgeous skeins of yarn with no project or plans for, just because they are so cool. Or buy that seedling that I have no room for yet, or a neat container to plant in with no plan. I get annoyed and frustrated with myself when I do this, but sometimes it is just so nice to throw practicality and function to the wind and just splurge for a moment. Thankfully all my splurges are rather small, nothing I can regret for too long.
I like my clothes, car, furniture, whatever to be more about function than appearance. I try to match myself to that tendency. I do not like the small talk and false interactions with other people.But, I work in public so I often have to pretend. My clothes and shoes tend to be more functional that fashionable, though I will admit to loving the horribly impractical peasant blouses, empire waisted shirts and other similar items even though wearing them around my young kids is not a great idea. So, they often sit unworn in favor of more practical wear.
I am not one to offer pat advice or make a comment on an article or post just to provide the 'I read that' function. I will only do so if I feel that I have something of interest, funny or intelligent to say. I want my comments, my words, to have a function. Even my gardens and potted plants need to have more function than just looking pretty. They need to attract butterflies, provide food or herbs, or climb a chain link fence to provide more privacy. If I can combine one or more of these functions in the same space then I am even happier. Many of these plans are all still just plans, waiting for my gardening time and the weather to come together enough to allow me to get really digging.
Even my crochet and other crafting needs to be functional. I am most likely to make an afghan, sweater or something that can be useful instead of a cute critter. Although if I have the time I might do both a blanket and small stuffed toy in matching yarns. Right now it is a sweater for my son, then one for a friend, then maybe me. But, no matter the project I make sure that it will be something that can be used.
I feel guilty and indulgent when i get something because of its form rather than function. Those sandals that just look so cute, but I have no idea what I'll wear them with, or the shirt or skirt that I have no where to wear to. When I pick up those gorgeous skeins of yarn with no project or plans for, just because they are so cool. Or buy that seedling that I have no room for yet, or a neat container to plant in with no plan. I get annoyed and frustrated with myself when I do this, but sometimes it is just so nice to throw practicality and function to the wind and just splurge for a moment. Thankfully all my splurges are rather small, nothing I can regret for too long.
E is for Elastic
So, elastic might seem like an odd word for a post in a blog about reading and writing. However, I think it is the ease of change and resilience of elastic that a writers mind sometimes resembles. We need to grow, sometimes shirk, squeeze and stretch to fit the requirements of each organization that we might write for. Things change constantly. Sometimes the changes seem huge and unwarranted and other times they seem to come too little too late. However, whatever changes come about writers need to stretch their skills, perceptions and style to get their work published and to get paid for it. While we do not always enjoy the stretching and where it might take us, we are still ourselves, and can fit back into our old ways easily. Sometimes too easily, forgetting the lessons we have learned and why we were stretching to begin with.
Elastic can become brittle and fragile if left sitting still too long. I think we all need to keep stretching and moving to be successful, happy and stay relevant. If we stay still to long we can become gummy or brittle, like that elastic you might find at the bottom of a desk drawer, or hidden away somewhere, that simply snaps the first time you try to use it.
It is not away fun to stay in motion. WE might bristle at the way things are presented or handled. However, regardless of which way you stretch, the key is to stay in motion, keep momentum, so that we can retain our resiliency.
Now to take my own advice and get back to work, struggling to stretch and move to meet the ever changing requirements in the life of a part time writer.
Elastic can become brittle and fragile if left sitting still too long. I think we all need to keep stretching and moving to be successful, happy and stay relevant. If we stay still to long we can become gummy or brittle, like that elastic you might find at the bottom of a desk drawer, or hidden away somewhere, that simply snaps the first time you try to use it.
It is not away fun to stay in motion. WE might bristle at the way things are presented or handled. However, regardless of which way you stretch, the key is to stay in motion, keep momentum, so that we can retain our resiliency.
Now to take my own advice and get back to work, struggling to stretch and move to meet the ever changing requirements in the life of a part time writer.
D is for Done
It is a great feeling when you can label something as done. Whether it is a to do list, craft project, cleaning jaunt or writing and editing a specific piece. Saturday night I was able to label an article and a crochet project as done, it felt wonderful. Sometimes finishing a book that I like has the same feeling of accomplishment, especially when I have a huge backlog of other things I want to read. Like right now. Discovering NetGalley is a blessing and a curse all rolled up into one! (Thanks LC for that! And if you are a reader that doesn't know what NetGalley is, you are probably safer for it).
Calling a written piece done is a lot harder, because of the editing process. I find it easier with the factual and how to articles than with creative works. With non fiction there is a certain amount of just simply right or wrong, rather than the subjectivity that can be used to judge a creative work. I'll leave that train of thought alone, since I covered that in my A blog post.
Cleaning is something that just never gets labeled as 'done' in my house. It could be if I could get a few hours alone in the house, but that just does not happen. A four year old and a two year old are not the great helpers they think they are. Boy do they love to try though.
I love marking things off my to do list as done. Getting my gardening started and my new plot planned and started feels fantastic. We have been in the house since August, but there are still some things on that master to do list that have yet to be marked as 'done'. However, the change of Winter to Spring has motivated my husband and I to get back to that list, and getting things done. I know there will always be a list, that is part of being a homeowner. But the challenges and projects let me mark things off as done and enjoy that feeling of accomplishment until three new things are added to the list.
As for now? I count this blog post as done!
Calling a written piece done is a lot harder, because of the editing process. I find it easier with the factual and how to articles than with creative works. With non fiction there is a certain amount of just simply right or wrong, rather than the subjectivity that can be used to judge a creative work. I'll leave that train of thought alone, since I covered that in my A blog post.
Cleaning is something that just never gets labeled as 'done' in my house. It could be if I could get a few hours alone in the house, but that just does not happen. A four year old and a two year old are not the great helpers they think they are. Boy do they love to try though.
I love marking things off my to do list as done. Getting my gardening started and my new plot planned and started feels fantastic. We have been in the house since August, but there are still some things on that master to do list that have yet to be marked as 'done'. However, the change of Winter to Spring has motivated my husband and I to get back to that list, and getting things done. I know there will always be a list, that is part of being a homeowner. But the challenges and projects let me mark things off as done and enjoy that feeling of accomplishment until three new things are added to the list.
As for now? I count this blog post as done!
C is for Cravings
Everyone has cravings, for food, things, thoughts, whatever. Food wise we all crave things that are a little different. For me it is coffee,chocolate, or diet coke. Yum... I love my caffeine laden treats.
Coffee is the fuel that keeps me going. Caffeine is my only real addictions. So coffee, particularly mocha, really is the only thing that I have every single day. The smell of brewing coffee is enough to start waking me up in the morning, even on those mornings which begin with my four year old having a nightmare at 1:30am and me never making it back to my own bed. Between the four year old and the two year old those nights happen more often than I care to think about.
Chocolate.. mmmmm. I like my chocolate and the coffee the same way. Dark, creamy and rich. Dark chocolate is my absolute favorite. The least amount of sugar in the mix the better. But on the opposite end of the spectrum I do enjoy white chocolate. Which is not really chocolate and is much sweeter.
Diet coke and coffee both became part of my life in college. I remember the semester that I lived with my a friend that was beautiful and half my weight. Size zero... I still cannot comprehend that as a real size, but all that is besides the point. One semester we each had our own coffee pots and gigantic coffee cups. Most of what we ate and drank that year started with c. Coffee, diet coke, multi grain cheerios, and baby carrots were staples in our dorm room. Pop tarts and goldfish also made regular appearances. Before that year I was never really into diet anything. I just ate a reasonable balance of things and tries to control my desires for chocolate. But, we would chop together, and diet coke was just always there. So I would drink it. Now, if I want a soda, it is generally Diet Coke. Although a Mr. Pibb, Dr. Pepper or Fresca are always welcome additions.
What do I crave beyond the realm of food and beverages. Quiet, peace, sleep.. the same things any parent craves. I want my kids to be happy and healthy, and would like the same for my husband and I as well as everyone else I know and care about. I crave a safe, reliable car. Something that seems to be exceedingly elusive the last few weeks. I crave a unlimited library, unlimited garden space and the unlimited time to make use of such treasures. I crave a nanny and a housekeepers and the ability to be a professional student, ah to be independently wealthy. I crave many things, big and small. Some I should have, like that car and some sleep, and some things I should not have, like limitless dark chocolate. Yumm.. chocolate.
What was I saying? Oh, cravings.What do you crave?
Coffee is the fuel that keeps me going. Caffeine is my only real addictions. So coffee, particularly mocha, really is the only thing that I have every single day. The smell of brewing coffee is enough to start waking me up in the morning, even on those mornings which begin with my four year old having a nightmare at 1:30am and me never making it back to my own bed. Between the four year old and the two year old those nights happen more often than I care to think about.
Chocolate.. mmmmm. I like my chocolate and the coffee the same way. Dark, creamy and rich. Dark chocolate is my absolute favorite. The least amount of sugar in the mix the better. But on the opposite end of the spectrum I do enjoy white chocolate. Which is not really chocolate and is much sweeter.
Diet coke and coffee both became part of my life in college. I remember the semester that I lived with my a friend that was beautiful and half my weight. Size zero... I still cannot comprehend that as a real size, but all that is besides the point. One semester we each had our own coffee pots and gigantic coffee cups. Most of what we ate and drank that year started with c. Coffee, diet coke, multi grain cheerios, and baby carrots were staples in our dorm room. Pop tarts and goldfish also made regular appearances. Before that year I was never really into diet anything. I just ate a reasonable balance of things and tries to control my desires for chocolate. But, we would chop together, and diet coke was just always there. So I would drink it. Now, if I want a soda, it is generally Diet Coke. Although a Mr. Pibb, Dr. Pepper or Fresca are always welcome additions.
What do I crave beyond the realm of food and beverages. Quiet, peace, sleep.. the same things any parent craves. I want my kids to be happy and healthy, and would like the same for my husband and I as well as everyone else I know and care about. I crave a safe, reliable car. Something that seems to be exceedingly elusive the last few weeks. I crave a unlimited library, unlimited garden space and the unlimited time to make use of such treasures. I crave a nanny and a housekeepers and the ability to be a professional student, ah to be independently wealthy. I crave many things, big and small. Some I should have, like that car and some sleep, and some things I should not have, like limitless dark chocolate. Yumm.. chocolate.
What was I saying? Oh, cravings.What do you crave?
B is for Books
Now, me being me, did you really expect B to go along with anything else? I considered beer, but have not been drinking or enjoying much of that lately. So I stick with books. Yeah Books!
If you are new to my blog, or do not know me personally, you might not have already known about this complete love affair with books. New books, old books, good books, better books. The classics, the kid books, the teen books, the adult fiction. I love the classics, urban fantasy, high fantasy, paranormal anything,romance, mysteries... there really is not a genre that I have not found at least one book within that I could appreciate.
I was reading at a very young age, and reading well above my age throughout my childhood. I have fond memories of many books, some funny stories, and just a list of read books that is large enough that I am afraid to actually sit down and try to figure it out for the record. My family helped instill my love of books in me. I would read at school, in bed, instead of watching television, while watching television, in a moving car, and just about anywhere I could get away with it. My mother, grandmother and other family members used to pass along large paper bags full of books to share. Mostly paperback, mostly romance, mostly inappropriate for me at ten through fourteen. But that did not stop me, I was reading some really steamy romance novels at a young age.
I remember one high school English teacher would hold onto whatever I was reading during class to be sure I was focused on the class rather than the book in my bag. I will never forget the day he started reading my book of the day during a test, not an unusual event, and telling me that there was a word he did not know in the book. He refused to tell me what word was beyond him. I still remember the basics of the book, but not the title. I was a western romance where the hero mistakes a girl named Jan for a boy, and she goes along with the mistaken identity to protect herself. I can still picture the cover. I remember a lot of plots and subplots from many a romance that I read in those years. But I can not remember what I ate today. Is that wrong? Do other people still remember these sorts of things well after important moments of life have faded from memory?
I love my books, my stories, the escape from reality that books offer. I can read anything, heck if I get desperate I read packaging and instructions just to occupy my mind. Those little tid bits do not stay in my head like romance plots though. I do avoid stories that are too close to home. Since I have small children I will often skip a story that might include danger or harm to young children as part of the plot. Biographies, memoirs and other non fiction that focus on pain or atrocities tend to get passed over by me as well. I figure life is scary and painful enough, I do not need to add to it by reading about things that will get me upset. However, I love the vampire and paranormal and the spooky. Even the too realistic for me to shut that light off spooky. Yeah, this book girl is odd. I admit it.
This love of all things book is why I find it sad that last week I was reminded that many of the books that have found their way into my permanent collection are still in boxes. It is just sad. I have around six large boxes of books desperate for homes on bookshelves. I need to buy or build bookcases to house these sad orphaned books. Some will find themselves given away to other homes and some will eventually have a real home here. Hopefully sooner rather than later.
Now, you might wonder how this happened. Especially since I love books so much. In 2010 my Mother in law became very ill, putting into motion our grand plan to move to a new house to allow my in laws to move into the home we were renting from them, which would allow for single story living. Unfortunately, the week of the closing on the new home we lost her. So, we moved because at that point we were obligated to the mortgage and all that. The next week was my birthday, then our anniversary, then my sons birthday and Halloween and so on. With everything that has happened and the normal busy moments of life in a family with two kids under 5 I just have failed to rescue my books from their boxes.
If you are new to my blog, or do not know me personally, you might not have already known about this complete love affair with books. New books, old books, good books, better books. The classics, the kid books, the teen books, the adult fiction. I love the classics, urban fantasy, high fantasy, paranormal anything,romance, mysteries... there really is not a genre that I have not found at least one book within that I could appreciate.
I was reading at a very young age, and reading well above my age throughout my childhood. I have fond memories of many books, some funny stories, and just a list of read books that is large enough that I am afraid to actually sit down and try to figure it out for the record. My family helped instill my love of books in me. I would read at school, in bed, instead of watching television, while watching television, in a moving car, and just about anywhere I could get away with it. My mother, grandmother and other family members used to pass along large paper bags full of books to share. Mostly paperback, mostly romance, mostly inappropriate for me at ten through fourteen. But that did not stop me, I was reading some really steamy romance novels at a young age.
I remember one high school English teacher would hold onto whatever I was reading during class to be sure I was focused on the class rather than the book in my bag. I will never forget the day he started reading my book of the day during a test, not an unusual event, and telling me that there was a word he did not know in the book. He refused to tell me what word was beyond him. I still remember the basics of the book, but not the title. I was a western romance where the hero mistakes a girl named Jan for a boy, and she goes along with the mistaken identity to protect herself. I can still picture the cover. I remember a lot of plots and subplots from many a romance that I read in those years. But I can not remember what I ate today. Is that wrong? Do other people still remember these sorts of things well after important moments of life have faded from memory?
I love my books, my stories, the escape from reality that books offer. I can read anything, heck if I get desperate I read packaging and instructions just to occupy my mind. Those little tid bits do not stay in my head like romance plots though. I do avoid stories that are too close to home. Since I have small children I will often skip a story that might include danger or harm to young children as part of the plot. Biographies, memoirs and other non fiction that focus on pain or atrocities tend to get passed over by me as well. I figure life is scary and painful enough, I do not need to add to it by reading about things that will get me upset. However, I love the vampire and paranormal and the spooky. Even the too realistic for me to shut that light off spooky. Yeah, this book girl is odd. I admit it.
This love of all things book is why I find it sad that last week I was reminded that many of the books that have found their way into my permanent collection are still in boxes. It is just sad. I have around six large boxes of books desperate for homes on bookshelves. I need to buy or build bookcases to house these sad orphaned books. Some will find themselves given away to other homes and some will eventually have a real home here. Hopefully sooner rather than later.
Now, you might wonder how this happened. Especially since I love books so much. In 2010 my Mother in law became very ill, putting into motion our grand plan to move to a new house to allow my in laws to move into the home we were renting from them, which would allow for single story living. Unfortunately, the week of the closing on the new home we lost her. So, we moved because at that point we were obligated to the mortgage and all that. The next week was my birthday, then our anniversary, then my sons birthday and Halloween and so on. With everything that has happened and the normal busy moments of life in a family with two kids under 5 I just have failed to rescue my books from their boxes.
Acceptance
Acceptance is important to every reader and writer. I am not talking about the obvious acceptance that everyone needs in life; friendships and such. I am talking about the acceptance of worlds outside ourselves, of different points of view, and of our own ideas. Sometimes it is the last that is the most difficult for me, and some of my fellow writers. Believing that an idea or plot thread is good enough is my biggest challenge in having an inspiration becomes something on paper (or computer screen).
Once I get past accepting that the idea is valid and move onto writing it seems easy. At least until I put on my editing hat. I find it very hard to take that hat off and accept that what I have written, or on my more creative days drawn or crafted, is good. Not simply 'good enough' but GOOD. Worth putting out there with my name on it. In fact, I have very rarely put any of my fiction out there in any way because of this.
I have accepted the validity of my research skills. I accept that I can write well when giving instructions or telling about personal experience. I have accepted that I know what I like and that my opinion is valid. Therefor, I have no trouble reviewing books, coffee, and anything else that I feel strongly about. However, I admit to not accepting any amount of confidence in the fiction that I have written. I get so invested in my characters that I do not want to have their story end, and in turn can not seem to trust that any of the endings that I have considered are acceptable to me, never mind others.
I continually fail to accept responsibility for these stories, and often leave them behind for long periods of time. I use my children, my job, my gardening, anything to excuse the fact that I keep doing other things than going back and finally doing what ever I need to do in order to consider them done. Acceptable and complete. Instead I read, write my reviews, research and write articles, go to work, crochet, garden, clean, whatever else is pressing on my mind. I accept responsibility for my procrastination, I own it, I admit to it.
Admitting you have a problem is the first step in fixing it. Right? Accepting the issue and taking steps to address it. So right after I get today's articles written, find my missing car title and clean the kitchen I just might open up one of those neglected stories and get down to work. Maybe.
Once I get past accepting that the idea is valid and move onto writing it seems easy. At least until I put on my editing hat. I find it very hard to take that hat off and accept that what I have written, or on my more creative days drawn or crafted, is good. Not simply 'good enough' but GOOD. Worth putting out there with my name on it. In fact, I have very rarely put any of my fiction out there in any way because of this.
I have accepted the validity of my research skills. I accept that I can write well when giving instructions or telling about personal experience. I have accepted that I know what I like and that my opinion is valid. Therefor, I have no trouble reviewing books, coffee, and anything else that I feel strongly about. However, I admit to not accepting any amount of confidence in the fiction that I have written. I get so invested in my characters that I do not want to have their story end, and in turn can not seem to trust that any of the endings that I have considered are acceptable to me, never mind others.
I continually fail to accept responsibility for these stories, and often leave them behind for long periods of time. I use my children, my job, my gardening, anything to excuse the fact that I keep doing other things than going back and finally doing what ever I need to do in order to consider them done. Acceptable and complete. Instead I read, write my reviews, research and write articles, go to work, crochet, garden, clean, whatever else is pressing on my mind. I accept responsibility for my procrastination, I own it, I admit to it.
Admitting you have a problem is the first step in fixing it. Right? Accepting the issue and taking steps to address it. So right after I get today's articles written, find my missing car title and clean the kitchen I just might open up one of those neglected stories and get down to work. Maybe.
Why I review
I wanted to give everyone a better idea of who I am and why I review. The short version. I am a wife, mother, avid reader, librarian and writer. I hope you enjoy my book reviews, and chance to explore my other articles (links on the sidebar) if you like my style or hobbies (obsessions).
I have always love books, always. I was reading alone by the time I was four, and reading books for adults in elementary school. I have always been willing to read anything, although I will admit that I have always preferred books that take me away from the here and now. Fantasy, science fiction, and romance were my first real favorites. Mysteries and then urban fantasy worked their way into my regular cycle of reading. Life can be terrifying, in both big and small ways. So, I really enjoy the escape from the real world for the time I can read. Therefore, I often skip books about the horrors that are easily found on the news, terminal illnesses and anything that involves the pain of a child or animal.
How I find time to read, and then write about what I read, is the real mystery. I work part time in a public library. It is dangerous. At least for anyone that is an avid reader. People are always recommending the good book that they just finished and are returning, covers and titles catch your eye and the reviews you read to intelligently recommend books to readers combine to make my list of books to read grow every day. When not working at the circulation desk, I process new books for the children and teen departments, and then discard those that need replacing or are weeded out. More often than not the new teen books are often checked out by me and read before they make it on the shelf for the first patron. The discarded books often make their way to my bookcases too, for my collection or for my children.
Then there are my coworkers, who are all book lovers as well (what else do you expect in a library?). So we all recommend books to each other, and my reading pile begins to grow even more. Then there are the helpful website recommendations. Recently, an office mate introduced me to NetGalley. Evil Evil Evil. Electronic galleys by some of my favorite authors, and some that I would like to read. That list of to be read keeps growing too. And then the books I read to further my knowledge in gardening, home improvement and what ever my current research project might be. I want to share the love of the great books I have read with others, and the information all locked up in my head with people that might be able to make use of it all. So I write.
Oh, and then there are the kids. My oldest is 4, my youngest is 2. They are active, and I am tired. I dodge yogurts and grubby hands as I read, type and occasionally crochet. I beg them to stay out of the kitchen when I attempt to cook or clean up. I know that the moment I sit down to do something, or need to, is when they will need a potty trip, snack or drink. It never fails. They love books too, which is great. However, they are not independent readers, so I get to read DR. Suess and Monster at the End of This Book, and countless other books over and over and over again. I also sing in two local choirs and take part in one book club.
The gist of my life? So many books, so little time. Life is crazy, busy, and tremendously fun. I figure that I can catch up on my sleep when I'm dead, and surely heaven is lined with bookshelves.
I have always love books, always. I was reading alone by the time I was four, and reading books for adults in elementary school. I have always been willing to read anything, although I will admit that I have always preferred books that take me away from the here and now. Fantasy, science fiction, and romance were my first real favorites. Mysteries and then urban fantasy worked their way into my regular cycle of reading. Life can be terrifying, in both big and small ways. So, I really enjoy the escape from the real world for the time I can read. Therefore, I often skip books about the horrors that are easily found on the news, terminal illnesses and anything that involves the pain of a child or animal.
How I find time to read, and then write about what I read, is the real mystery. I work part time in a public library. It is dangerous. At least for anyone that is an avid reader. People are always recommending the good book that they just finished and are returning, covers and titles catch your eye and the reviews you read to intelligently recommend books to readers combine to make my list of books to read grow every day. When not working at the circulation desk, I process new books for the children and teen departments, and then discard those that need replacing or are weeded out. More often than not the new teen books are often checked out by me and read before they make it on the shelf for the first patron. The discarded books often make their way to my bookcases too, for my collection or for my children.
Then there are my coworkers, who are all book lovers as well (what else do you expect in a library?). So we all recommend books to each other, and my reading pile begins to grow even more. Then there are the helpful website recommendations. Recently, an office mate introduced me to NetGalley. Evil Evil Evil. Electronic galleys by some of my favorite authors, and some that I would like to read. That list of to be read keeps growing too. And then the books I read to further my knowledge in gardening, home improvement and what ever my current research project might be. I want to share the love of the great books I have read with others, and the information all locked up in my head with people that might be able to make use of it all. So I write.
Oh, and then there are the kids. My oldest is 4, my youngest is 2. They are active, and I am tired. I dodge yogurts and grubby hands as I read, type and occasionally crochet. I beg them to stay out of the kitchen when I attempt to cook or clean up. I know that the moment I sit down to do something, or need to, is when they will need a potty trip, snack or drink. It never fails. They love books too, which is great. However, they are not independent readers, so I get to read DR. Suess and Monster at the End of This Book, and countless other books over and over and over again. I also sing in two local choirs and take part in one book club.
The gist of my life? So many books, so little time. Life is crazy, busy, and tremendously fun. I figure that I can catch up on my sleep when I'm dead, and surely heaven is lined with bookshelves.
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