Calendars and 2016 Musings

One of the last things I do at the end of the year is go calendar shopping. Or, depending on how late I'm running or how much of a discount I'm itching to get, sometimes it's one of the first things I do in a new year. I'm flexible. Regardless, it's calendar season at my house. That time of year when you crawl over hordes of people crammed into the smallest area a bookstore could think to put up the display or, for the adventurous types, when you avoid eye contact with the sometimes shifty-looking employees of the pop-up calendar & toy store at the local mall.

He doesn't know why you can buy a board game and matching calendar either.

For the person of a thousand and one interests *cough* like me, calendar shopping can be a little much. Is this the year I get landscapes of any one of the countries I adore? Something funny instead? OMG-look-at-all-the-cute-puppies!!! Something literary and witty? BUNNIES! Dark and spooky? Choice overload. The last few years I've opted for zen and/or positive quotes with equally soothing (or whatever) simple images. I'm not sure they did much for me, so maybe it's time to go a little madcap and silly.

And speaking of the year coming to a close...

I don't necessarily think 2016 has been the worst year. But for many people I know, it's certainly been a dark and difficult year. We've had a tribulation or two here as well. And the seemingly endless culling of so many public figures took a toll on hope and spirits everywhere. It started with a roundhouse kick to the head and ended that way, too. From David Bowie & Alan Rickman all the way through to George Michael, Carrie Fisher & Debbie Reynolds. I stopped being able to articulate what some of these people meant to me, what their careers or their activism inspired and encouraged, before the second quarter of the year. With this (hopefully last round) starting at Christmas, I was quite ill and too sick to register the full impact of their passings.

With all that in mind, I present what 2016 was for me personally.

2016 is the year:

• I got annual passes to the mouse's house. Childhood dream unlocked.
• My cousin came to visit and I made my grandpa's sauce recipe.
• My friends and I explored new activities and places. 
• My dog died.
• My husband was officially diagnosed with autism.
• I avoided being hospitalized by sheer stubbornness.
• I became a trusted confidant in my oldest nibling's life. 
• I learned something new about how to treat my PCOS that almost 20 years of doctors never mentioned before. 
• I went to a funeral for a friend for the first time.
• I finally got my ass back to the doctor after putting it off for too long. 
• I learned how to unclog a garbage disposal on my own.
• I learned how to make salisbury steaks, soups, couscous & more.
• I caught up on classic literature I missed in high school & college. 
• I began refreshing my foreign language skills & inspired my dad to do the same.
• I survived. Every thing I stressed over, every moment I wasn't sure I could handle, every time I thought I might break in the year, I made it through. I've laughed and cried with family and friends. I had food in my pantry and on my table. A roof over my head, hurricane or shine. I have memories of those who are no longer here. For every worry or moment of uncertainty, there is hope.

Happy New Year to you & yours!

Dear Santa

My youngest nibling asks me every year if I've written my letter to Santa. In the spirit of needing to wear off this espresso buzz embracing the relief of skidding to the holiday finish line a skosh early, I thought I'd give it a whirl. I may be a little rusty; it has been *cough* a few decades since I've made the attempt.

Dear Santa,

The End.

I don't remember writing to you being so difficult. Should there be an exchange of pleasantries? Ask after the family and business? Or as this is a request out of millions, should I put the urgency on your limited time and get straight to business?

Out of respect to you: Happy Holidays, hope all is well and safe travels. On to business.

And that takes care of the required adult generalized worry list.

Here's the nitty gritty:

• Time to finish reading any one of the three library books I've been working on for the last month & change. 
• To be rid of whatever bubonic plague gremlins trying to root in my sinuses that one of my niblings infected me with this week. You know the one. Adjust his gifts accordingly. Like adding hand soap, sanitizer and face masks to his stocking. Or coal.
• Genealogy records to break through long-standing brick walls.
• Carrie Fisher surviving & making a full recovery. Seriously, 2016 has done enough. 

Oh. And uh, just one more thing.

Or at least tried.

My home is starting to feel like there's room for 1 more little 4-legged furry, wet nosed hound dog. I still intensely miss the one who left us this year and am grateful our remaining sweetheart who sidestepped a cancer scare. But our pack is 1 short. Maybe you could keep an eye out on your flight tonight for the right fit.

Now that I've thought about it:

• Either the cure for cancer (human & canine) or the right inspirational gift for the child who can figure it out.

🎄🎄🎅🎅🎄🎄

From my home to yours, I hope this holiday season is one of peace and joy.

Gifting

Disclaimer: This is post, very obviously, is a first world problem kind of thing. With that in mind, we proceed.

I love finding the right gift for people. I'd love it a whole lot more if I had several million in disposable income, but you get the idea.

Can I get an Amen?

But I love gift giving. The agonizing over options is my own personal over-analyzing sweet spot.

What I suck at, very much something that's developed over the last few years, is giving people ideas for me. My lists used to be littered with books and.. well, mostly books. A few odds and ends here and there, but usually books rounded out the bulk of it. And despite my main gift givers being hardcore readers, they resisted.

My increasing age has added to my sense of being pragmatic. I'm at the age where unless it's from a tried and true favorite author of mine, I'll test drive it from the library first (whenever possible). My office, bedroom and bookshelves have stacks of books I touched long enough to bring home from the store. I struggle to find time and focus to read library books as it is and at least they have a time limit involved to push things along.

Beyond books, I'm practical about jewelry. Sure, I like sparkly things but I have a reaction to silver and anything with nickel. That price tag just went through the roof on anything I'd be interested in. And frankly, I wear the same earrings and same necklace every day anyway - simple, practical pieces. I'm always in a rush and if I don't just leave it all on from one day to the next, I'd never remember to even wear my wedding band.

Note to self - check for pants and shoes before leaving house.

As for all the rest?

I want a genealogy and organizational fairy godmother. *Poof* Family pictures and documents scanned, organized and preserved in a neat space with back up stored off site. *Poof* Here's the missing records you've needed to tracing down another 5 generations. *Poof* Family history stories recorded for posterity. *Poof* *Poof* *Nose twitch* 1890 Census restored. (American genealogy joke & desperate wish - most of it was destroyed in a fire).

I also want a $300 USB typewriter-style keyboard. But I don't understand when Christmas gifts had to be hundreds of dollars a piece and stocking stuffers are the price I like to average on regular gifts. Those of you buying $25-$50 & up stocking stuffers are throwing the whole thing out of whack. So I don't ask for a $300 USB typewriter-style keyboard because that's more than I'd budget for my own entire Christmas gift experience, gifts under the tree and stocking.

So aside from an expansion pack to my favorite (filthy) card game and a gift subscription to something genealogy based, I'm good this year. I don't have kiddos to watch and enjoy the holiday experience. (Another something I'd like but isn't an option.) I have older folks who will open slippers and undershirts and the like. I have a husband who reads this blog, so my lips are sealed on any further comment there.

Am I upset about the state of my potential personal gift receiving experience? Nope. My husband's not pleased but I'm good.

The hubby will roll his eyes at this. Guaranteed.

Watchlist

About twice a month I score a free digital movie rental courtesy a rewards program from my wireless carrier.

My husband and I are movie people. Not in the sense that we have good taste, a critic's eye or have seen the best of the best. Nope, strictly in the sense that we just like to watch movies. Good ones, horrible ones, slapstick, drama, action, kids', sci-fi- anything that sparks our interest. And while we don't always agree on the same movies or even genres (I love a good scary movie or a compelling documentary while he will watch anything with "American Pie presents" in the title or military history tear jerkers.) there are usually a few titles we agree to cough up the cash each year to go see in the theater. Damn you, Marvel Cinematic Universe. Or thank you, if I'm being honest. 

All the rest that don't quite make the theater investment but still interest us we either wait to get from the library or until they show up on television. Occasionally we'll luck out and a few are available to stream on Netflix, but you get the idea. By the time they are available to watch, we've forgotten what we were waiting for and new releases have gained our attention. 

So this whole free movie rental reward is right up our alley. We're catching up on the movies we missed and as is to be expected, not all are winners. And then we've caught up and we still have rentals to redeem. 

The watchlist conundrum. 

I have movies on my watchlist I wanted to see, but they vary greatly. I start getting choosy. Picky. Do I want to watch the adaptation of a childhood favorite book or would I be more inclined to sit through two hours of watching Tarzan's abs? Cute independent movie staring the beloved Sally Field or a JJ Abram's thriller? Meryl Streep or a documentary of an author who wrote under an assumed name and used a relative to assume that identity? 

The struggle is...ridiculous. But there it is. This is, I should note, less stressful than deciding between books on my infinitely long TBR list. 

What would you watch if you made it through your top choices available and had a freebie to spare? 

Pondering a group existence

I have this knack for throwing myself into not particularly well charted territory. Navigating something on your own can make you feel like it's uncharted, but life has taught me time and again that I'm going to stumble across people at some point who get it. Whatever it may be.

And while typically the above image is a reminder to me about writing, an undercurrent to this otherwise less than shining year for me has been about groups. Can I find what I'm looking for? Are there groups in existence that are close by? Are there on-line options for those based further away? How do I let go of nerves and join in? And the most nagging of all: should I form my own?

This mostly started about writing. I moved to a somewhat rural area several years ago. I like living rural, without being in a zero-lot line subdivision with cookie cutter homes (well, that last part is kind of unavoidable in most neighborhoods in FL built after 1985, but it's a nice thought). I'm an introvert. Wide open spaces without tons of neighbors is cool by me. I do, however, enjoy being close to amenities. Theaters, libraries, access to good medical care, so on and so forth. I'm fine picking up dog food at the local farm and feed store and heading into the nearest high-end market 25 miles away to pick up fresh baked madeleines. I'm good like that.

You KNOW you want one, too.

Anyway, a bonus to the rural area I live in is the nearest town is kind of artsy. It's actually quite artsy for the area. And much to my surprise it boasts several writing groups. Some kind of snooty, some not. The hit and miss schedule of the more relaxed group I joined isn't helping me when I'm struggling. My issue, not theirs. But, if it's not working for me, I need to find something that does. So a group of writing friends and I have been tossing around the idea of starting our own group to meet our needs for a while now. I didn't want the headache of recruiting. Or scheduling. Or all the rest of the stuff that goes into it. But I want structure and support, something to get me a kick in the pants when I'm lagging on projects. So it's time to take on the crap (along with my friends) I don't want in order to try to get what I do what. 

Beyond writing, I've been looking into the idea of a support group to help me with the stress of caring for my mom. It's hard to watch your parents lose the ability to do certain things as they age. It's been a whole next level thing to handle the mental illness part that plays havoc with my mom. Therapy is expensive. Group meetings hosted by the local chapter of a national mental illness association is not. Still, I haven't ripped the bandage off and just gone to a meeting. I need to. An almost month long break from my parents recently was like somebody stopped holding my head under water. The change in how I felt day-to-day was startling. Now that they're back, I feel myself being submerged into the water more and more. 

My main source for support at this point has been reading the stories of others going through similar experiences. Books, blogs, articles, whatever. That sense of I'm not in it alone is vital to me. But the struggles continue no matter how helpful and extensive my reading list has been. Trying to tread water with my mom, the aging of all my parental units and another major piece of my life takes a toll. 

Recently my husband was diagnosed with autism. And yes, you read that correctly. An adult diagnosis. That is a story all on it's own, and one I have been working on for a few days to share in the future. He is ridiculously intelligent (so say we all and confirmed by testing). He has a great sense of humor and is damn good at his career. But his diagnosis, something we already suspected for a number of years, or rather the way his brain works impacts our relationship. I feel an unbelievable amount of pressure a great deal of the time, pressure he doesn't register. 

I've made my way as best I could by scouring the internet for help, pleased to come across even a small (but growing) number of sites focused on and NT (Neurotypical or someone without autism or other neurological difficulties) and Aspie (short for a person with Asperger's - considered the higher functioning spectrum of autism) relationships. I have a laundry list of books on the topic to read, though only 2 are available in my rural library and the rest are small press books that average quite a bit more than I am comfortable spending on a paperback of less than 200 pages. It's expensive to need assistance.

I have looked, so far to no avail, for a local support group. It's rather a niche market, I'm sure. But it's not as uncommon as you think. More and more people are receiving a later in life diagnosis and finally understanding difficulties they have had interacting with the NT world. There are groups forming in other parts of the country, groups in other English-speaking countries, even a new group in South Florida. Alas, a 5 hour drive each way for a 2-hr meeting isn't something I see myself fitting into my schedule. Local autism support groups are predominantly for parents of children with autism. And I see groups starting to pop up for people like my husband who were diagnosed as adults and are looking to connect with people who will get each other. So I come back to the same thing: is it time for me to make my own group? Is it time for me to finally do something about what I can't find (or in the case of the mental illness group, muster up the courage and go)?

The idea is daunting to this introvert. Then again, nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

Which is a lot nicer than saying $h!t or get off the pot. Keeping it classy.

NaNo out

Despite a few more hours left in the day, it's time to declare NaNo 2016 over and out. But as we're all friends here, I can admit I called time on NaNo quite some time ago.

Now, I had a strong suspicion at the get go that I wasn't going to finish. 2016 being the gift that keeps on giving (rather like an expired jelly of the month club) and all, I wasn't feeling it. This was the first year I did any kind of prep work, basic and quick as it was, and didn't go into the event at the last minute.

I did manage to get some work done, even if I quit counting words part way through the month. I did manage to make progress on something I still want to finish and make a complete work out of. So while I'm loath to admit (or subconsciously relishing and wallowing in) defeat, at least I broke out of months-long creative block (and general blah disposition about life in general - though that's still there). When I don't write for prolonged periods of time, it's like holding my breath. For a ridiculously long time. For no good reason. With no positive outcome in sight.

So to those who finished, congrats! Be proud of the effort you've put into your goal. Take a moment to celebrate.

With the great feasting holiday behind us (Anybody else find the idea of celebrating the occasion of Native Americans saving the starving butts of the Pilgrims in a meal involving unity a little hard to stomach this year because at the moment Native people are being blasted with water cannons as a result of peaceful and understandable protest? Not to mention the countless acts of savagery committed against them, but I digress.) depending on the level of leftovers and house guests you've got at the moment it's time to look ahead.

Ahead can be towards the next level holiday (your choice of many in the coming month) that will besiege us all with gift-giving quandaries, more family time and trying to find the right balance of caffeine, booze, meditation, and anxiety-fueled house cleaning to help us navigate this most festive of seasons.

Ahead can be seeing 2017 fast approaching and realizing that regardless of the shit storm that was 2016 for so very many of us, we live to see the rebirth of fresh promise. Or even just that we made it through the bizarro, comic book level-drama that has been 2016.

Ahead can even be as simple as taking a deep breath and facing tomorrow. Regrouping from today's struggle and giving what you've got to keep on going.

Casserole Countdown

When I was growing up, I distinctly remember being taught over and over (and over some more) the following bit of conversational/interpersonal skill savvy: 

I'm one of those strange people who generally tries to adhere to that. Despite the modern obsession of seemingly everyone with a social media account finding their voice and sharing everything from pictures of what doctors removed from their body (posted by a friend last week) to the obvious what-I-had-for-lunch snapshots (ok, so even I do that from time to time), I have not been compelled to voice much in the way of politics, religion or money. Given my trust issues (coinciding with being judged issues), there are about a handful of people I'd discuss my views with in the world anyway. And if we've ever talked politics in person or via messaging, congratulations - you're one of the poor bastards "lucky" few I feel comfortable enough to discuss such things with. 

And here's the sum total of my feelings about everything going on:

I don't care what the affiliation is. I see hate and propaganda and fear mongering spewing forth from every direction. And I'm just so damn tired. 

But that most epic of comfort food feasting days is almost upon us:

Carbs, carbs, tryptophan, more carbs. And then the pinnacle of them all, pie.

For so many, the holidays involve tense discussions with family or straight up bellowing monologues from whoever is the most belligerent on politics, religion and every poor life choice you might have ever dared to make.

It's also a time of unprecedented casseroles. Potato ones. Vegetable ones. The big boy of them all, or so says the canned soup industry, is the green bean casserole. This was not part of any of my holidays growing up. Like, at all. 17 different kinds of potato dishes, 400 pies, enough stuffing to make a whole farm of turkeys panic, but no green bean casserole. No canisters of fried onions. Our cream of mushroom soup was mixed into a different golden brown casserole. Our green beans were fresh and went into one of our plentiful potato dishes. 

It has to be magical, right?

Santa himself must approve.

But years of a strong ad campaign wore me down. Finally in my young adulthood, while others were binge drinking and/or learning that condoms could have changed the trajectory of their lives, I decided to make it. 

People... people seriously eat this? Like, look forward to it? Or is this just another thing people do in a herd mentality kind of thing? 

Forget politics, religion & money. You really want to start some shit with people, disagree about food. So here's to years of careful menu planning and sticking to personal favorites. May you enjoy whatever casserole is your favorite and have the proper stretchy pants for an extra piece of pie.

Delayed Start

Cut the ribbon, fire the starting gun, jump on in.

Exactly a week after NaNoWriMo officially started, I'm doing my half-assed best to get started. And my-oh-my, is it slow going.

Seriously behind on The Crown.

It may be pulling out toenails while trying to swim upstream in frozen molasses slow, but it's going. I am, when the planets align and everyone's chakras are in balance, fully capable of churning out several thousand words a day. Which means I am fully capable (in theory) of catching up and then exceeding the 10,000+ words I'm currently behind. In case it isn't obvious, someone within a 300 mile radius of me does NOT have their chakras in order.

Too harsh?

But progress, I suppose, is progress. Today is the first day in all of November that I've been able to do any kind of brainstorming or even focus on crafting (ha!) a scene in my head. And while I may falter on the kind of fabric somebody's cloak is made of (seriously, this is the kind of stumbling block I trip over when my brain is on super-slow-motion creatively) when I know full well and good it doesn't freaking matter by the time I get to editing (ha!) words are sort of starting to fill in on the page. And I'm trying to convince telling myself that it's only a matter of time before I hit a scene (or Lord willing several of them) where my creative engines are off and to the races. The kind of frantic typing where I forget to eat and don't stand up for hours on end. Glorious productivity. 

Here's where I stand with NaNoWriMo: I have less than 21 days to get all 50,000 words in to win. A quick peek at the calendar will tell you that means I have to get done before the end of the month. Why am I starting so late and why do I need to finish early? My parents. 

My mother's mental condition continues to be unsteady. And my dad seems to be unraveling before my eyes from the stress. The two of them together? It's been a little taxing.

The good-ish news? They've gone to visit one of my siblings. My completely unprepared and inexperienced sibling. So I have less than 3 weeks to write 50,000 words, try to piece together some semblance of inner peace and figure out the holidays before they return, on top of the rest of regular every day life stuff. And that's betting that my mom makes it the full expected length of the visit and I don't have to go peel her off the ceiling and go collect them early. 

The house, temporarily down 2 occupants, feels somehow less oppressive. Like I'm not entirely drowning in "Oh dear God, what's going to happen next when she wakes up." I mean, I realize she could flip out on them up there at any moment, but it's not as in my face right now. And my dad flitting around in a combo of anxiety and frustration has other people to do things with. Maybe the extra distractions will help his mindset. Honestly though, as I was driving home yesterday I'll admit I entertained the idea of sage-ing my house. What candle do you burn to drive out bad juju and bring in hope and renewal? Preferably something I can get with 2-day shipping from everyone's favorite online retailer or maybe a quick trip over to Cassadaga. 

They say the darnedest things

Over the years I've seen an endless variety of adorable pictures and stories of stuff my niblings have done or said. My closest approximation looks a little something like this:

Times three. 

Sometimes it's colorful anecdotes in the life of a Florida native who managed to spawn the man I love. For instance, my husband and a friend were out with my father-in-law earlier this year and stopped to grab lunch. It was my husband's friend's first time meeting the old guy. At the restaurant, my husband's friend grabbed a handful of napkins to bring to the table. My father-in-law looked up, saw the wad of paper and bellowed, "Did you get those for your face or to wipe your ass?" And cackled. That's the least offensive thing I can think of to use for him. 

For my mom, it's more about how far out of reality she is at the moment. And as embarrassing or funny or inappropriate the older men in my life can be, for her it's about figuring out long it's going to take to reel her in. It's a clue as to how elaborate the hallucination is. Is she accusing us of putting snakes in the bed, is the dog looking sad, is the book she started reading giving her messages? All these things are so routine for us and yet probably not the norm in most households. This kind of thing is not exactly what my siblings want to hear about when we exchange texts.

And then there's my dad. Who seems to be spinning out of his orbit at the moment. A lovely combo of aging, deteriorating filter/give-a-damn and stress. Today while I was driving him on an errand, he threw a curve ball. "So, you know how we've talked about pre-planning arrangements and all that?" I've been trying to get my older folks to make some decisions and take care of a few end of life arrangements for years. Not because I enjoy the idea of my parents dying, but because I've been through both no plans and fully planned and the latter is totally the way to go when grieving. 

"Yeah," I offered. This topic hadn't come up in a while. "What do you think about donating our bodies to medical science?"

What do I think? How about what do you think? Because I'm thinking this isn't the topic for when I'm driving.

He was kind of excited with the idea but kept pressing me to give him my thoughts. I wanted his thoughts and eventually I discovered his excitement was from the idea of how inexpensive he thought it would be. 

Instantly I thought about texting my siblings. Shouldn't they share in some of this?

Ready, Set, Give Up

It's day one of that weird, writer's holiday season: National Novel Writing Month. NaNoWriMo for short.

I'm already over it.

Like way, way the fuck over it.

I should go sit in a corner until my mood improves. Because that? That sounds delightful. Writing 50,000 words this month in what is arguably the weirdest year in modern memory makes me want to give someone the finger.

So I bitch. And moan. Get it out of my system. Chances are that's probably my process for this anyway. Vent a disproportional ire about an event I willingly signed up for (for free) and gives me a deadline and a reason to get off my ass and make something happen.

I'd rather be playing Civ V. Or, you know, sitting in that corner alone until I'm in a better mood.

My phone was 1 non-stop notification all day as every single person I know who is participating updated every social media site available. They're excited. I get it. Introverts unite from the safety of your respective home office. Community AND isolation. Honestly, I get it. I do. I'm just not there.

I'm not feeling it this year. I'm hoping the annoyance and resentment of this high holy of writing months will pass. I'm hoping to get caught up in storytelling and forget 2016, just for a little while.

So to other NaNo'ers, don't take my shitty attitude personally. Good luck and happy (or whatever floats your boat) writing.

The Weight of Stars

I'm as prepped for NaNoWriMo as I'm going to be. I have Halloween candy (alas, no decorations up) at the ready for the little kittles. I finished reading Jane Eyre for the first time in my life this month, then made my way through some Oscar Wilde and H.P. Lovecraft. I read a modern 'horror' novel with a good premise and middling execution - not so horrible I couldn't finish but bad enough I wanted to slap the shit out of the writer (for being lazy) and the main character (for being too stupid to live).

When I read books that don't necessarily do it for me, I have a hard time rating a book. If I can make it to the end without a lot of skimming, I consider it average. So a 3 star out of 5. A solid C. And in the modern world where reviews are bought ("I received this product for free for my honest review."), begged for and needed to sell practically anything, 3 stars can torpedo a product or a writing career. Who knew getting a passing grade could be so dire? (You know, aside from teachers and students.)

Not that you can trust 1 or 5 stars anymore. Friends, fans, free stuff seekers, sites are flooded with folks putting in their reviews to support. Trolls, competitors, lonely wackjobs love to leave reviews, too. So much so, some online book retailers (like, the big boy of them all at the moment) are looking into how to screen book/item reviews to try to toss out ones that aren't legitimate. Last time I checked though, there's plenty of stinky bullpucky afoot.

I'm always startled by reviews about books, maybe even books I didn't care for, where the reviewer is seemingly compelled to detail every word that offended them, every idea that was subpar. A simple "I didn't like it." just doesn't seem to cut it. It's like that writer needs to bleed for the afront the reviewers apparently felt. What is their homelife like, I wonder, that this depth of aggression is warranted?

So I generally err on the side of 3 or higher. For me, 2's are for books I just couldn't finish. It's not for me. 1's are disasters that never should have been written. *cough* I have my limits, but I don't use that often. High praise? A 4 comes to any book I was swept away with. Something that really drew me in and I may or may not consider reading again in the future. 5's are the rare creatures that I will revisit and usually must have the digital, paper and audio edition to enjoy at will.

THAT season

As we slide into the last quarter of 2016, crawling to the finish line of a year that seems to have spared almost no one I know, I'm hanging on for dear life as we approach the busy season. I'm not talking about Halloween (seriously, a Monday?), feast days or the jolly man's budget busting annual visit. And for the record, I don't even have the energy to hang my head in shame because I don't have one single Halloween decoration up. 

No, the busy season I'm talking about is NaNoWriMo - that most high holy, batshit crazy let's write a 50,000 word minimum novel in a month. In a month in the middle of those other more mainstream occasions. Because why the fuck not?

National Novel Writing Month. Cue the bitching and moaning. Cue the internal excitement that lasts the first 36 hours followed by 28 and one half days of frenzy. 1,600 words a day? No problem. Wait, stuff happened. Now it's more like 1,800. Still doable. *flash* *bang* *smoke* *mirrors* *stomach flu* *wizards* *zoo animals on the loose* 2,800 words a day to make it? *breaks out in a cold sweat* Emails and text messages count, right? Right?? 

I'm going to whine. I'm going to panic. I'm going to resent the whole frigging thing. And I'm going to do it anyway. Although I'm not buying the t-shirt this year. Gotta draw the line somewhere. Honestly, this is also the first year I'm going into it fairly sure I won't finish. But I still want to try. 

If you're curious what this NaNoWriMo nonsense is all about check it out: NaNoWriMo  

It's free to sign up and participate - though they would love for you to donate or purchase something from the store. If you are going to give it a go, feel free to comment your NaNo user name in the comments & I'll add you to my writing buddies on there.

In other writing/book news, have you heard about the Serial Reader app? (I'm in no way affiliated with this app, fyi.) I came across a social media article about this app a few months ago and wanted to give it a try. It's free to download/use and appears to be ad free. There is an optional (and inexpensive) upgrade to unlock a few nice features (ability to read ahead, for instance). 

Ever feel like you're dismally behind on reading the classics? Or that the ones you missed (or avoided) in school are just too dry or daunting to attempt? The guy behind the app breaks down classic literature into daily, tolerable snippets delivered to the iOS or Android device of your choice. There's a decent collection to choose from and more are added on a regular basis. Brontë to Lovecraft, Twain to Virgil.