Blogging for Fun

I am drowning in essays on Greek myth (why did I choose to be an English teacher?!?), and I have less than forty minutes before I have to pick up my kids, but I just had to blog.

Thanks so much, those of you who read my blog whenever it pops up. Thanks for checking it out even when the title is lame and the subject matter isn't to your taste. And thanks to the BIG THREE responders, who pretty much chime in every single time I write (do I have to list you three out specifically? You know who you are!). Sometimes, in a given day, this blog is the only writing I can count. Sometimes it's the only fun I have. Sometimes it's the one break I get from all the stressful "have-tos"...

And you read it. Bad, good, boring, interesting, off topic, weird--no matter what presents itself here, you check it out. Thanks so much for that.

I wish I had more today. Perhaps I'll have time tomorrow to post about my trip out to Cape Flattery this past weekend. I took some digital video of it--spectacular!

Thanks again.

*hug*

Signs of Aging

I'm getting older. We all are. My kids are still not fully grown, but they are getting older (thank goodness!). 

I'm a bit older than they are, though, darn it! My husband's younger than I, but he's feeling older than he really is. He has a foot that is likely to need surgery, for every time he walks more than a few blocks it swells up and hurts for days (his mom had surgery). He's had arthritis in his hands for years, and has even had his wedding ring sized up several times, just so he can get it over his swelling knuckles. He has mystery pains everywhere, from his knees to his hips, his hair is thinning, and the list goes on and on. Sometimes it hurts for him to get up in the morning. Sometimes he can't get to sleep fast because he hurts.

I can't really whine about being old. Unlike my unfortunate husband, I can't say I've felt any effects of aging. No arthritis, no weird pains, nothing. I'm probably more spry now than I was a decade ago (since that was also several dozens of pounds ago, too). The only way I'm sure I'm getting old is that I have these smiley wrinkles right around my eyes. Since I'm pretty smiley, and very light skinned, I guess I can't be too surprised.

So, for those of you who are already feeling the effects of getting older, what's it like? What do I need to be prepared for? What should I expect? 

A Simple Wish

My head exploded

With dreams of being worthwhile

A sage of the world

Guiding readers through 

The maelstrom of life

Leading my children 

As they make themselves successful

Changing the world

Through words

(In other words, 

I took myself

Just a bit too seriously)

But as I stomped in the rain

Dreaming dreams of glory

I chanced upon a woman

A girl

Of 90 years or so

Hair white as age required

Skipping along 

In a hot pink coat.

All my dreams drifted away

Out of my Pandora's box 

Where I had stuffed them

Held them captive

Leaving only one:

When I'm ninety

May someone see me

Skipping down the street

In my white hair

And hot pink coat

And smile.

Killed by Time

Dreams far off

Goals I feel my being's fiber

Gravitating to

Yearning for

Get lost.

Grading pulls me down

Into a stack of papers 

With my little purple pen

Writing answers

Offering encouragements

Recording score

Circling the smily faces as I go.

But the writing waits

Like a siren 

In the other room,

An untouched file on my laptop

Beautiful, calling for me to

Get lost.

Yet dishes drown me

And clutter drags me across the floor

Bathrooms sniff at me

Children's homework strangles me

Appointments eat at my time

Like moths.

And still the novels cry out

Unfinished

Broken

Filled with holes

Unwritten.

I keep answering:

I'm almost there!

I'm coming!

But I'm not coming.

My time is running out

And I'm not getting anywhere I want to be.

Happy Busy Day!

I have officially hit the ground running. My classes have started, I'm thick into THREE novels right now--one for book group, one for pleasure, one for a fellow writer (and pleasure). I have another writer's novel waiting, and then my own (third) novel to revise by the end of the month. 

Whew! Thank goodness I only have two classes right now! And they are promising to be wonderful--great students, enthusiasm, intelligent discussion. I can't wait to see how both classes progress. 

I hope your days are as exciting and busy! Or at least as exciting! I have lots to do, but I find myself doing it joyously. All I can do is wish the same for all of you.

Wasting Time

I took off for my playwriting rehearsal this afternoon, looking forward to centering myself a little around writing and theatre. I reached the theatre ahead of time, pulled out a book to read until everyone else arrived, and waited. 

No one came. I'm still not sure when the rehearsal was supposed to be (I was told 2 p.m.), but since I live nearly an hour from the theatre (and am now home, after waiting there for over half an hour), I won't be driving back for the staged reading tonight. In fact, with all the driving, I spent about 2 1/2 hours--no, wasted 2 1/2 hours--doing absolutely nothing. 

I cannot express how frustrated I am at this moment--although the impact of it is already beginning to fade--frustrated enough to question my involvement in what is otherwise a fantastic playwriting group. They are one of the best writing groups of any kind I've found over the years, and I'm lucky to be involved with them. Really.

But I hate wasting time. And gas. In those 2 1/2 hours I could have read another most of my best friend Cherilyn's novel. I could have finished Susan Cooper's fifth of five books Silver on the Tree. I could have finished Crystal's painting for her room. 

Then again, not going to the performance tonight has freed up quite a bit of time, too. Sure, I'll miss what is likely to be a fine reading, but perhaps I'll get to all those other things, and more.

See, all it takes is a bit of a perspective shift to end my whining. I'm off to read/edit/paint/etc. Hope you're making the fun use of your time, too!

Ten Years Ago

It's not my tendency to look into the past, except in my novels, but my husband does it. He pointed out, too, that ten years ago was a bit of a parallel to last night. Ten years ago we were at the Millennium Celebration at Walt Disney World, watching Tinkerbell fly up to the castle before fireworks went off. And we were childless. I had just miscarried, and though my body had recovered, I was still devastated by the loss. Yet only three months later, right around my birthday, I would conceive my daughter. Now she has just turned nine, and last night, as my husband and I thought back to that time ten years ago, she and her brother watched Tinkerbell on DVD. 

Full circle. So much change, so much that stayed the same. 

I wonder what will happen in the next ten years. This time ten years from now, Crystal will likely be through her first semester of college (or hairdressing school, or something else, if she decides she's not ready for college yet). Richard and I will be wondering how we will afford college for both her and Brandon. I hope we're still married. I hope we're still happy. We've been happy for nearly 21 years now. Is 31 years in our future? 

Honestly, I can't predict anything. All I know is now. 

I'd be willing, ten years from now, to look back. But only for a moment. I don't have time to wallow in it, even the good stuff.

One thing I can guarantee is that, if I'm still alive, I'll still be working at something. And that's the best future I can imagine.

Now, though, laundry needs doing, and Brandon needs the toaster. And I have a novel to revise. Today is all that matters.