How Bad Do You Want It?

I have been completely and totally out of focus when it comes to blog posts the last several months.

Yeah, I'm real broken up about that.

I'm a little bummed in that I had, with a few slow times, kept up to a twice a month posting schedule a LOT longer than I expected. I could highlight how everything going on can be best summed up by describing my life as dangling off the side of the Titanic just before it makes its final descent.

But that would be a bit dramatic. Plus, it's just not that cold where I live.

Social media reminded me that about this time last year I wrote a blog post about that nerdiest of nerd holidays: National Novel Writing Month.

That's right, it's NaNoWriMo time, kids! That batshit crazy time of the year when thousands of people lose all good sense and try to cram writing 50,000 words into 30 days and try to act like it's the most fun ever. All while trying not to crack like Humpty freaking Dumpty.

For all my bitching and moaning (a beloved past time, frankly), the idea of NaNoWriMo in October is kind of thrilling to my creative-esque brain. The idea of it November first is still kind of thrilling yet slightly daunting. Beyond that it's a mad dash of swear words, caffeine, loathing (both self- and for those who interrupt your process) and anxiety. There may or may not be a serious chocolate addiction to make it through the day as well.

We're one week in (Sweet baby arugula, one week down already?!) and I've already had to play a bit of catch up. But I rallied. And stumbled. And hopefully I'll rally again, because the quicker I rally, the less daunting my catch up mode has to be.

My family... Ahem, my husband and dad are supportive. And distracting. They really do mean well. And they patiently inquire about word counts and how I'm doing for the day.

And none of them know what I'm writing. Yes, I'm terribly squirrelly about explaining what I'm working on even to them and they have not, in the history of the universe, ever asked. Probably because I'm squirrelly. Or they're afraid it's about people talking about angst. Or wallpaper designs. Who can say?

The nice thing about this year, because I'm all about grasping for silver linings at this point, is I've conned my friends into doing it I have more friends participating than before. It's easier to stick with it in the rough moments when you're in this with other people. Mostly because you don't want to be the one who doesn't make it to the end and get all bitter when they celebrate.

I'm still on the mend from that broken bone (without the joy of prescription grade pain killers), my mother is still so far off her rocker she's in a different galaxy (and as loving and charming with me as barbed wire), and life in general has the audacity to continue on as if I'm not chest deep in a bizarre writing event. Must be November.

Good luck to everyone participating in NaNoWriMo - or any other nerdy endeavor that may be going on. May you be inspired, properly caffeinated, supported and a bunch of other stuff that helps.

Something Wicked This Way Comes

All year long various people have been asking me about taking a vacation. Which is weird, because usually the only people who talk to me about traveling are the few people I actually travel with. Because a vacation implies there is time and money and availability and resources and a shit ton of other factors that magically align. 

With the addition of our new dog this year, I officially wrote off any hope of traveling - let alone 'vacationing'. (I'm sure this reflects poorly on me, but somehow I can't shake the idea of a vacation being something wealthy television characters take in the 1950s. Or in the case of a particular doctor who has asked at each visit this year, multi-week world-tour like expeditions to amazing and exotic locales. 'Cause doesn't everyone go to Australia on a whim for their 5th or 6th trip of the year?)

And then once we rounded summer for the autumn, the urge to see an actual seasonal change starting kicking me in the gut. My family and I talked about the possibility of a brief trip, a there and back again kind of jaunt to one of our favorite fall locations to restock from orchards and delightful treats we've missed. 

And before you could say "Is that your check engine light?" our vehicle was in the shop. My father refers to the kind of known but not-covered-under-warranty issue it was as planned obsolescence - we could make this little tiny valve more durable, but we're not so you've got to buy something from us again AND pay for the labor cost - somewhere in the ballpark of your current monthly car payment.

Ouch.

Okay, but while not ideal it wasn't the worst case scenario. Maybe we could still pull of a quick getaway. 

Ha! Ha ha, I say!

Because a quick run over of the car (confirmed by us after picked up the vehicle) shows we need a new set of tires and brakes. 

He's going to pay $500 for 4 bald tires and a tow. Sounds about right.

(Wheezing choke) Ouch ouch.

For the briefest of moments I wondered if I could still somehow make it work. 

*Crashboombang*

I broke a bone for the first time in my life.  

Gawrsh! That looks painful - and expensive!

I spent most of my childhood wrapped in sports bandages, swollen joints and blood dripping down after falling off bikes. I fell up stairs, I fell down stairs. I tripped over my own feet and over nothing at all. All the grace and coordination of a blindfolded colt born on ice. And nothing, not so much as a hairline fracture until now. 

And I didn't just break something half-way relatively easy to navigate around. Oh no. I broke a bone in a place that will not heal on its own on in my foot. On my dominant side. That pushes the pedals in the car. 

I got to have surgery. My foot is so wrapped up in bandages and packing, topped with an immobilizing boot, that my husband keeps laughing that I should dress up for Halloween as the Wicked Witch and tell kids that Dorothy missed me with the house and it only got my foot. 

I'm completely non-weight bearing for a month and a half at a minimum. The person I despise most at the moment is the WASPy house designer who decided she needed to make popular the idea of adding an extra door to the toilet that is already inside a home bathroom. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to navigate a toilet hidden inside your bathroom so a handful of squeamish people can believe their spouses don't know they poop when you've only got 1 foot to balance on?

I hope you're laughing at that. Seriously. Because I have lost count of the number of times I've burst out laughing when I'm on the verge of crying the past few weeks. We've rounded ridiculous and are sliding into absurd. 

So let me sum this up a bit. I'm supposed to basically be on bed rest (using a little scooter I kneel on when I do need to move) until the bone heals. I take care of a household. I am forever running to the pharmacy or grocery store or doctor's office for a house full of my older folks. But I can't drive. For several weeks. 

In October. 

October is one of the two months my mother's mental illness goes completely bananas and her psychiatrist lets me use her personal cell number to reach her 24/7. And I'm out of commission. Let me clarify that for how my mother views things. I'm not out of commission. I'm getting all the attention. That's 200% how she sees this. And she's not going to stand for that. 

Necessary PSA that not all mental illnesses are the same and this is in no way meant to be derogatory in any way. My mother has more than a few things going on in her brain at the same time as her mental illness - something she's been treated for since before I was born. But at some point in her mind, right around the time I hit puberty, my mom took a very serious look at me and saw A. the bratty baby sister she fought with in her youth and B. competition for attention. I have been fair game for routine hatred ever since. 

A few days ago, my mom tried to convince me that she was the one with the broken bone (she eventually settled on her foot, but for an hour or two she said it was her arm). Later she told me I used to be so sweet to her, but that's mostly gone now. Yesterday and today she's been remarking that she needs to get ready because I'm having people over. A long and winding conversation gives way in the long run for her to make me feel guilty because I have friends and sometimes I go out and do things with them. There's so much more, so many more disheartening things, but you get the basic idea.

What I can't stop wondering though, is what horrible fate awaited me should I have pressed on with my longing thoughts of a fall trip that this was what had to stop me. At this point, I'll settle in with my homemade version of The Exorcist, a stack of books to read and now that I'm shaking the cobwebs of the painkiller out of my brain, writing.

Adventures of a different sort

One week ago, I, along with whoever else remained in the state of Florida, braced for the coming hurricane. Hurricane Irma was a big ole beast of a storm. And I've got to tell you, it took everything I've learned over the course of nearly a lifetime in this state to make it through the past two weeks with a dose of relief.

Irma went on her merry, destructive, psycho-ex-girlfriend-level-crazy way by Monday afternoon.

Let me rewind a little though. The week leading up to her arrival, my spidey-hurricane sense tingled. I began a snotty blog post about rising hurricane hysteria but never got back to it. And while the hysteria doesn't help anybody and it's a big part of frustration during hurricane season, I'm kind of glad I didn't finish that bitch session before Irma bitch slapped us.

It's exceptionally rare that I do any kind of hurricane prep. Seriously. The local news stations whip everyone in a frenzy, and usually it doesn't come near us. Last year was the first time in 12 years a major storm headed our way and at the last minute, as they are want to do like a dizzy toddler, Hurricane Matthew weaved to the right and spared my area the direct hit the weathermen were salivating over.

This year, when the projection said this angry drunk of a storm was heading our way, I picked up bottled water and canned goods like it was my destiny. I'd like to point out, I was NOT one of those assholes who bought up 20-30 cases of water leaving the rest of their neighbors scrambling to find supplies. I got what my family & animals would need for about a week and stayed the hell out of the stores.

Because to a point, there's not a whole lot you can do about the storm. You might need to put up plywood to cover your windows. You might need to bring in outside furniture, bird feeders and the like. But once that storm's howling (literally howling) outside, you're playing a waiting game. What you plan for, what most of Central Florida learned the super, duper grueling way about 13 years ago, is that you plan for the after. You plan for no running water. You plan for no power. You plan for no stores, restaurants or gas stations to have those things or anything else for that matter. And you've got to plan for that for at least a week, longer if you live outside of a subdivision where there are centralized substations.

I've gone through several hurricanes. I posted about that last year after Matthew. I've gone through a couple of impressive blizzards. Irma covered the whole state. The entire thing. There was not a place in the state that wasn't touched by at least one or two storm bands. I couldn't really tell you what the news was saying for the first several days after Irma, what without having power, phone or internet, but I know there is a sense of awe, pants-shitting awe, at the size and capability of this storm.

My family and I were fortunate. Our power was out from Sunday night until Wednesday night. I have a couple of friends who are still without power and were told to expect to be so anywhere from 2 more days to another week or longer. I don't care what your religious beliefs may or may not be, God, the universe or just collective consciousness needs to bless the power company linemen & tree trimmers, many out of state workers flooding in this week to help get the state back up and running. As soon as people are getting power up, they're cooking them hot meals, bringing them beer, liquor and cold water, bringing them pizza as restaurants reopen. Some kids are baking cookies or pastries or bringing them hand drawn thank yous with trays of store bought cookies.

We're a little dizzy here now. Last week was hurry up and panic, prepare as best you could and wait. Wait. W...a...i...t.  Sunday the very air around us was deadly. Snapping power polls like I'd snap dry spaghetti. Uprooting trees like their roots were made of tissue paper. Monday we crept out of our darkened houses for fresh air and to check the damage. Tuesday we sweated. It was kind of like everyone in the state was doing a sweat gland potency test. This continued until you got power and then the food nervousness began. Stores were refilling - and emptying as soon as trucks came in. It wasn't until Friday afternoon that perishables started returning to the shelves faster than they could be bought up. What a relief it was to buy a carton of eggs. Fresh milk. No canned goods. Not that I wasn't glad to have them, but not my first choice at the moment.

All in the span of a week, barely two if you count the panicked week of watching Irma's arrival.

So here I sit, in a coffee shop that's recently reopened, sucking down coffee at a vaguely alarming rate and so grateful that my life is able to return to it's weird normalcy in a headspinning week's time.

What a ride

After hopping off one of my favorite theme park rides last night during a quick evening visit with my husband, I thought of a half-way viable blog post. 

What one ride from each of the four local Disney parks would I love to ride non-stop if given the chance.* At least once (though a vague memory says maybe two or three times) cast members let me stay on a ride as many times through as I wanted during a slow evening. It was magical. There, I said it. Alas, last night's visit didn't have an extended-ride-experience but the ride I was on is one I'd love to stay on. 

*I'm restricting this to the mouse's house for a simple reason: Every single ride at Universal Studios' parks (with the exception of the Dr. Seuss and ET rides) I've been on is gone or been overhauled. Which should give a fairly good idea of how long I've spent away from theme parks until recently. Speaking of which, why isn't 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea or Mr. Toad's Wild Ride on the mouse's maps anymore? WeIrD!

With the newest addition to the animal-themed park, my choice is now either of the two rides in Pandora - the slow moving river ride or the immersive flight simulator. 

Hands down, simulated hang-gliding around the world. For someone with a fear of flying and heights, this is one of my favorite rides ever.

For the studio-based park, I'd love a full day on the Toy Story ride. What makes carnival games even better? Being slung around from game to game on a ride that keeps score between you and your companion. 

Oh bother. I have so many favorites at this park AND this is the park I've had the most opportunity to ride something until I scream "Uncle!".* Excluding the ride I've spent the most non-stop time on, my pick's the Haunted Mansion. That being said, it would be easier to list the rides I wouldn't want to ride continuously here than ones I would. 

*Point of fact, it was my companions who begged off that ended my ride as much as I wanted to streak. I came disturbingly close to having a toddler-style tantrum at the park.  How often do you get that kind of opportunity?! *deep, calming breaths*

What rides would you love to stay on as long as you wanted? 

In The End

An act of aging or pretentious music stage, call it what you will, but in my (very) early twenties I hit a point where I scoffed at pretty much anything new being played on radio stations. I hit my teens as grunge snatched the airwaves away from hairbands and then pop-punk hit hard partway through high school. Pop fluctuated between sex heavy to sugary sweet implied sex heavy. I'd hit saturation of whatever new(-ish) sound was du jour. 

So, when the next big thing in rock flooded radio stations, I wasn't having it. I wasn't interested in the.next.big.thing. I stuck with my familiar tunes. Until I was at work one day and somebody was rocking out to Linkin Park. A spark. A connection.

From 'Faint'

From 'Papercut'

I could be here all night posting lyrics. And while the lyrics and the music are solid (IMHO) it's the delivery that takes it to a whole different emotional connection. 

Today, the man who poured raw emotion into songs that hit me at just the right time of my life, took his own life. 

I didn't know this person outside of his public persona. I had over the years read some of his story, about a traumatic childhood. About his struggles during adolescence. I always hope someone with a rough start finds a way to reach a peace and happiness in life. It's always heartbreaking when that's not the case. 

The Journey of Characters

A positive for me as a lifelong reader is that I'm ahead of my reading goal for the year. If you just read 'reading goal' with an eye roll, I thought it that way myself. This is my second year with some kind of arbitrary goal, brought up by the site Goodreads. My goal so far is to aim for a minimum of two to three new-to-me books a month and I'm already on book 26 for the year. 

Before I added my 26th book to my currently reading list, my attention caught on a review for a book I'd read several years ago - the first entry of an urban fantasy series. I am doing a quick reread of the series in preparation of reading the four most recently published books (which are new-to-me). The reviewer gave the book two stars and complained about how much she disliked the heroine. 

I wasn't bothered by the rating or review, but I was struck by the reason she disliked the character as a kind of vital reason that character existed, at least to my analysis. In a potentially gritty and action packed world, a pretty girl with low general life ambition maybe doesn't have the best life expectancy. And yet as the first book (and then series) progresses, you experience her evolution. A hero's journey. 

My second thought from this character-based dislike is that this kind of character, in my humble way of thinking, tends to act as the safe gateway for 'regular' people to find themselves suspending disbelief and more fully immersing themselves in the story. A flawed guide who makes stumbling into a strange world perfectly accessible. Why yes, I'd puke my last three lunches up if I saw a man's face get eaten in an alley, too.

I'm all for warrior queens (or any variation of strong female characters), and yeah aimless characters who just get by tend not to do it for me in general - except there is an entire drive to want to see how people, how characters, evolve into what they're capable of. If you're writing off the character who cries over cutting her perfect blonde hair (and believe me, if that's the extent of the emotional depth I'm out, too) then you're probably going to miss her disemboweling a creature and feasting on it's wriggling flesh to heal a mortal wound. Or...something. 

The reviewer's complaints were all totally valid. I didn't much like this character either. At first. If she lamented about her matching outfit and lip gloss one more time I was going to lose it. But it didn't last. Her life becomes a series of thresholds that change everything about herself. What a shame the reviewer didn't take the journey to see that girls with pretty pink nail polish and white capri pants and sandals can become more. That anyone can become more. 

It's a process

I mock commercials. Or I did, back in the day before the glorious addition of the DVR to my life. One in particular comes to mind at the moment, for my candy-drug of choice, about there not being a wrong way to eat it. I disagreed. I still do. Because if you're trying to peel off the top and bottom coating first, you're the kind of person I don't need to associate with in life.

And then there's writing. Everybody and their mother's cousin's uncle's college roommate is only too ready to tell you what you're doing wrong. And how to fix it. Usually for a low, low price. Sometimes just for the satisfaction of being 'right'. 

So what does that make us?

I've bitched and moaned lamented about this ad nauseam before. Opinions are like assholes and the world of writing is no exception to this. 

So there's an inherent... shall I say... danger in asking questions related to your personal writing process. Which is why it's nice, vital even, to carefully accumulate good people to bounce these thoughts and queries off of. Because there is equal danger in being so closed off that you never entertain any new-to-you thoughts. This is not the time/place for a philosophical/self-help discussion about how sometimes you have to block everything external out and just do you. So I move forward with the idea that this is specific to the thought in my mind at the moment. 

The thought bubble over my head about writing of late is what I'm calling layering. Rather like the layers of animation cells animators (at least in the old days) use to flesh out scenes and character actions. 

See, I've got this manuscript. And I'm a fair chunk into this. Character development. Interpersonal stuffs. Dialogue. Some action. Some foreshadowing. But I've left some important stuff out that I kind of need to start addressing. That's needed to move forward. 

I get caught up in my characters when I dive into a project. Who they are. How they think. How they speak. How they interact. How they would approach this or that. And what I'm working on in this particular piece, is the kind of grand epic, an immersive fantasy/horror world that I've always wanted to tackle. But I've been so distracted by getting this collection of characters just so and exploring particular situations that need to happen (until the culling that is editing happens) that I've neglected other areas that I need to start tackling. I mean, if your goal is to write a swashbuckling tale of pirates navigating the globe but after 150 pages everyone is landlocked with no voyage in sight, you may have gotten a little carried away and lost sight of your outline. You may also have ended up writing a different kind of book, but that's neither here nor there. 

And this thought overwhelmed me a bit at first. Like, how do I go back and enrich this landscape, to restructure the world-building? How do I add in what I was oblivious to being missing in the first place?

Layers, I thought. I brainstorm on what's missing and is needed to ultimately move forward. I dump a veritable shit-ton of sand in the box and start digging away. Again. I go back later on and weave in (because, *groan* I've got to edit it anyway) and then onward to where our intrepid heroes or victims were left off and take up as though this nonsense was always there.

And when I realize I missed another part of what goes into this kind of larger scale storytelling, I'll go back and add another layer. Then repeat.

Tell me something I don't know.

Checkmark

When our new dog arrived home after what felt like forever (more like a 2 month wait), my life as I knew it kind of went on hiatus.

A running, pooping, peeing, chewing machine cute enough to inspire spasms of cuddles was on the loose. And yes, training, but it takes time.

The exhaustion between the new dog and my mom neared critical tipping points. Non-essential brain functions turned off. Several essential ones turned off as well. Creativity is kind of vital to my brain and that was firmly walled off.

And then after about a month, it busted open and demanded attention. Sporadically. But still. A scene, separate of anything I had been working on, came to mind. A writing exercise of sorts. Short, (hopefully) quick.

Two  months later, (like I said, sporadically) I finished it. The rough, rough draft. Which I have less than zero interest in revisiting, let alone revising. But I finished it. A small victory, progress, completion, in the face of domestic (small-scale) chaos. A completed project in the history of mostly unfinished writing projects.

I'm not shooting off fireworks about this. I'm not making myself a cake. But I will take a few moments to appreciate the act of finishing this little piece. And then build on it. Get back to something a little longer and then finish that. And then get back to one of my long-running novel projects and hopefully finish a draft of that.

While on hiatus, during those random moments when exhaustion would claim the fuzzy creature, I made my way through the original 2 seasons of Twin Peaks.

I've heard about this show for what seems like forever. It was a little out of my league when it came out, owing to the fact that I was still in elementary school when it first aired. In light of the the show being brought back for a limited run, I was able to finally catch up and see what all the fuss was about.

Whatever else I would have said about this show now takes a backseat to what was my greatest find:

Pre-X-files David Duchovny.

I've got the last episode of the second season to watch and then I make my way to the current stuff.

Starts and Stops

A few years back, I began work on where I wanted to be (a mindset as opposed to a place). Positive thinking. Not being sucked into negativity and other people's quagmires of drama. And I did a decent job for a while.

So is it an explanation or an excuse to be able to chalk up where I fell off the wagon? Because I did fall off and struggle to catch back up. With all the grace of an albatross skateboarding with sparklers.

I start. I stop. I grow more frustrated. I carve out a bit of peace. I start again. Huge muddy pothole in the road. I stumble. In spectacular fashion. Wash, rinse, repeat.

It's life, simply put. It has that way of happening to you. Curve balls, change ups when you get used to those fast balls or low pitches. Sports. Holy hellfire, I went with a sports analogy.

Bah. This all devolves into motivational sayings ("Fall 99 times, rise 100", "Rest, don't quit", "Don't eat the yellow snow", etc ad nauseam) and yet they ring true. 

Despite frustrations, upheavals and the like, there's still reason to get up in the morning - even if it's because you've been jarred awake by the sound of a dog hurling up his toenails after chomping down a large bug. There's still a reason to keep moving forward and recommit to the direction you want to go. 

I scrapped 2 other blog post starts tonight and at least two more in the last two weeks. Stars and stops. Get something done to get back on the horse. Finishing something - a quick and dirty (alas, not that kind of dirty) blog post, a short story, a sketch, whatever - is a good start.

Where Does The Time Go?

It's high school graduation season around here and for the first time since I walked across the stage many, many moons ago I've got a stake in this.

Until the last few weeks, I'd been so consumed with making sure this kid, one of my niblings, would graduate that the dizzy brain waves of oh-dear-God-we're-all-HOW-old didn't kick in until now. I tutored. I reminded about homework, make up work, turning in anything and everything. I begged, literally begged this child to grab every chance of extra credit just in case.

This kid did not have my school career. I treated school as seriously as administrators threaten students that they should.*cough* nerd *cough* Permanent record! You'll use all of this! *cough* I aimed to be most likely to succeed until I aimed to just get the hell on with life. This kiddo, not so much. Brains, check. Ability, check. Desire - we've got a runner.

So, to see them stride across the stage and have their name on their diploma is like a partial weight lifting from my shoulders. I'm not tackling the angst of what comes next for a few months, so I'm just going to bask in the relief. And let my brain turn over and over how weird it is that this kid is a high school graduate.

I waited for this kid to be born. I was a nervous wreck driving to the hospital when they arrived. I changed their diaper, held them when they were sick. I watched them grow with a mixture of awe and a deep hope that their life would be so much better than they could imagine. I was there for lows and highs. I hoped that I set some kind of decent example  (something sorely lacking in this kid's life) and taught something, anything positive that would stick with them as they grow.

I know where the time has gone. Every climb up difficult moments. Every tear shed. Every fear of what comes next. Every movie seen together. Every meal cooked together. Every moment of regular life that fills in the space between special moments. I just can't get over that the little chubby cheeked toddler drives, is in a relationship, has been accepted to college and all the rest of it. And I can't believe that I've somehow managed to survive this long after my own high school graduation, navigating the unknown.

And this

A year on

My husband pointed out to me the other day that it was the one year anniversary of the death of our first puppy (he was a senior dog by then, but he'll always be a puppy to me). It was something I was aware of in the back of my mind, but slightly jolting in the moment anyway when he brought it up.

A solid year. How completely bizarre.

I admit before I became a born-again dog person, I rolled my eyes when people expressed deep grief and took time off from work when their pet died. I was an asshole.

I was baptized by dog spit in that very first puppy lick to my face, a total convert at the first heavy sigh as he rested his head against my heartbeat. And then I realized this dog would die some day and I'd be a blubbering mess for only God knew how long.

It turns out that the grieving wreck would give way to numb and resistant to fill the empty space in our home. I questioned for a while if we'd even get another and just be a 1 dog household. The rest of the house was a little more eager to move forward.

Out of the blue one day this past winter, possessed by who knows what, I committed us to once again being a 2 dog household. And then immediately wondered if I'd made a huge mistake - this is normal for me with every.single.dog we've adopted. I question that I can handle it. I question how well the dogs will get along. I question my ability to love this little creature in the manner he or she deserves.

When our new four-legged family member finally came to us, there were some interesting coincidences between him and our deceased pup. And clear cut differences.

By the time the one year anniversary rolled around and registered in my brain, I glanced across the hall and watched the new fella happily watching me back as he chewed on one of his toys. Not a replacement, most definitely, but filling a space that was less painful to consider as time went by.

Tears can still well if I linger on the thought of our senior statesman's passing too long. My heart's still pretty tender about him. But now my days are consumed with teaching another wagging heart-stealer the ropes of the household and asking "What's in your mouth?!".

And this new member of our pack is steadily feeling more secure and growing more independent of us. The resident senior dog, our wild howler monkey of a girl, is acclimating to the new energy and though she's loathe to admit it, she's starting to like him.

Back to our original program

Just because I'm glad April's blog challenge is over, doesn't mean I actually have the mental faculties to form a halfway decent blog post.

I've been meaning to write an extensive post about my hubby since last fall. I've got some recent health concerns on my mind. Some family has some major health concerns that surpass my own at the moment. And there have been some good things and exciting events taking place too. Not that my hubby isn't a good thing, but time marches on.

I've not watched an iota of streaming content (curses!) in the last month or spent more than a handful of hours writing.

And I really do mean to catch up on the saved social media & blog posts from friends and family that I haven't gotten around to yet.

In short, oh the first world problems up in here!

But first, before I can take a deep breath and tackle such world shaking problems as weekly meal prep, mopping as recreation and laundry - the musical, I've got a graduation gift to tackle.

The first one of my niblings *sniff sniff* is about to graduate from school.

And while I entertained grand hopes many, many.... many moons ago of taking said child on a trip to Europe in the event of their graduation, my bank account has happily reminded me it's not currently an option.

So, I'm in search of a really cool graduation gift for the kid who doesn't have a frickin' clue what they want to do next. I'm slowly putting together a short list (much to my relief). And, as with many, many....many of the rest of first world problems, I'm sure I'm far more worried about getting it right and making it memorable than will actually sync in this child's brain for the rest of their life.

Goodbye blog challenge

Sweet, sweet relief.

This could be my exhaustion showing, but having a unifying theme didn't make the A to Z blog challenge anymore interesting for me this year. Don't get me wrong, when the letters suited my purpose, it was all good. But otherwise I was like a hound dog trying to loose itself from the shackle of its collar.

I have no sage words of summation, no grand illumination that took place. It's not exactly NaNoWriMo, but I'm completed it and there's a small amount of satisfaction in that.

Otherwise, I've had a bit of stuff going on of late. Stuff that contributed to the super low word count per post towards the end. Some exciting, some boring and some health-related and tedious.

Overall it feels good to have my blog back for my own personal whining purposes.

Zadar - AtoZChallenge

This final (YAY!) blog post idea is courtesy something I came across in social media that makes the rounds about once a year.

Zadar, Croatia.

Now in general, I'm curious to visit Croatia & the surrounding areas. but something specific caught my attention thanks to a video making the rounds.

The Sea Organ, or Morske orgulje in Croatian. What appears to be sets of stairs descending into the sea actually covers a series of pipes that produce music as the waves rush across.

Yellowstone & Yosemite - AtoZChallenge

National Park theme - Yellowstone & Yosemite.

This is a roadtrip kind of bucket list item. Along with the Grand Canyon, Pueblo, the Painted Desert, so on and so forth, I'd like to take a Western trek to take in the kinds of sites you just don't find east of the Mississippi River.