I want to start by saying that I'm still compiling a list of questions for my upcoming interviews. I'm probably overthinking it, as I am wont to do. I am hoping to have the first interview done by mid-July.
It is 8 PM right now and I am workout dumb. I worked out twice today, once with my trainer and then later I did a cardio kickboxing class. (Or, as Doug likes to call it, my fight. I think he legitimately believes I go to actually fight with people.)
I feel amazing. There is something that activates in me when I workout very intensely. I have done a good job lately of hitting my step goal (to be fair, there is much to be said for people overstating the importance of simply hitting an arbitrary number of steps every day). I have not, however, done a good job of increasing the intensity of my workouts.
In my area, a lot of people do workouts with Beachbody on Demand. I have yet to take the plunge and subscribe to the service. I don't have a dedicated spot to work out (aside from in front of my TV, which involves a fair amount of straightening up). I don't have a lot of equipment, though I've been adding to my arsenal a bit at a time.
I like having someone plan the workout for me. I like having someone cheer me on. I'm not normally one for group classes, but this cardio kickboxing class is small and intimate. The instructor, my friend Kate, is not too over-the-top with her enthusiasm. I've known her for a long time and she's my kind of dark and twisty.
I also managed to finish the first shawl today. It came out really well, I am quite pleased with it. I am itching to get started on the second one and will do so after I post this.
I talked with friends today about getting into action, about doing the things that I know I need to do, even if I don't want to do them. Our brains are magnificent organisms, but they like efficiency. It's good for a number of reasons to try and learn new things. Every time we have to learn a new skill, it's like a workout for our brains. It ends up creating new neural pathways.
It's also why it's so tough for us to break bad habits and implement good ones. Our brains ultimately want to follow the path of least resistance. It's easier to sit on the couch and binge-watch the new hit show on Netflix. It's easier not to get up a little earlier and have more focus. It's easier to eat a second helping than to drink some extra water.
In any case, I'm hoping that upping the intensity in my workouts will help with a bevy of things.
I am continuing to enjoy a joyful spirit. Again, I don't know why. It would appear, to the untrained eye, that things are still in disarray and joy should be fleeting. I'm not going to poke the bear and wonder why; I'm just going to continue to ride the wave.
Monday, July 1, 2019
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Lazy Sunday
I am sitting outside right now, watching my husband play in the pool with the kids.
It stormed today and that messed with the rhythm of my day. I woke up with an upset stomach, something that used to happen more frequently. Now, it only strikes every once in a great while. It caught me a bit off guard.
Storms rolled in around 12:30, which dashed our plans to hang at a local splash pad with my mom's group. We ended up taking a detour to the library. Spent a little time there, then headed back home. By the time we left the library, I had the beginnings of a migraine. I have medication that I take for it, but it tends to knock me out for a couple of hours.
I was determined to hit my step count today. I've been on kind of a tear the past week and a half. Most of that is probably owing to participating in Wizards Unite, but all the same, it's become another part of my daily discipline. I went on a lengthy walk, came back and snacked on some saltines and 7UP. I'm hoping that my stomach will be back to normal by tomorrow.
In any case, I'm sitting outside. This is not normally where I choose to write, but I'm trying to harness the break in bad weather.
I'm enjoying watching my husband with our kids. We have been together for almost eighteen and a half years. We have been married for fourteen. We have four kids together. We have lived in the same house on a quiet street for eleven years.
He has been out of work for almost five months. He had previously been with the same company for almost twenty-one years. His work ethic is epic. He is dependable to the nth degree. I've discovered that it's easy to scare him. He has a lot of routines around the house. I tend to hide in our closet, with the light off, and wait for him to open the door. I know about how long it takes him to walk the perimeter downstairs. I know he has a set routine for how he places his things on the armoire.
He continues to work part-time at Walmart and has been on several promising interviews, though none has panned out to this point. It is tough to see him struggle to find work. He has taken to making self-deprecating comments and though I know they're not true, it's hard to hear him make them.
We have been staggering under the embarrassment of blessings that has come our way. It's gone a lot more smoothly over the past five months than we could have ever imagined.
That's not to say it hasn't required a lot of spiritual and emotional fortitude. The kids, especially Bekah, are old enough to want things and to ask about why we don't have things. Last night, for example, we went to Three Oaks. She really wanted to visit a pool. We had received some money from my dad after the movie on Friday night. I explained to her that we didn't have a lot of extra money, and that going to the pool could be expensive. I said she had a choice, either we go to Three Oaks, which is free, and get ice cream, or we go to a pool and get no ice cream.
She was nonplussed, but ultimately, she decided on the ice cream. (Actually, it's custard. And I'm gonna stop you right there, because you're going to say it's the same thing. It's really not. There is only one place for custard and it's Julie Ann's. There are many places in the region for custard, but Julie Ann's is the only one of consequence.)
There is a part of both Brian and I that wants to just be able to do things, without having to get out the adding machine and abacus and trying to see if it's feasible. We want to be able to say yes more. At the same time, we see how entitled our kids already act. We shake our heads about that and lament how much worse it would be if we actually were able to say yes more.
Ultimately, whatever job God decides to place Brian in, we are going to have to continue to be good stewards of those resources. It may make it easier to maneuver (we don't have credit cards, we only use cash), but ultimately we aren't going to be able to travel to Hawaii.
I am not sure where I'm going with this, except to say that I love my husband a lot, both because he's a great husband and a great father. The kids all love him tremendously and enjoy being with him. I am hopeful that this period of unemployment ends sooner rather than later. I am trying hard to keep the faith that God has a plan. I'm doing my best not to wrest the pen away from him while he's in the middle of writing it.
It stormed today and that messed with the rhythm of my day. I woke up with an upset stomach, something that used to happen more frequently. Now, it only strikes every once in a great while. It caught me a bit off guard.
Storms rolled in around 12:30, which dashed our plans to hang at a local splash pad with my mom's group. We ended up taking a detour to the library. Spent a little time there, then headed back home. By the time we left the library, I had the beginnings of a migraine. I have medication that I take for it, but it tends to knock me out for a couple of hours.
I was determined to hit my step count today. I've been on kind of a tear the past week and a half. Most of that is probably owing to participating in Wizards Unite, but all the same, it's become another part of my daily discipline. I went on a lengthy walk, came back and snacked on some saltines and 7UP. I'm hoping that my stomach will be back to normal by tomorrow.
In any case, I'm sitting outside. This is not normally where I choose to write, but I'm trying to harness the break in bad weather.
I'm enjoying watching my husband with our kids. We have been together for almost eighteen and a half years. We have been married for fourteen. We have four kids together. We have lived in the same house on a quiet street for eleven years.
He has been out of work for almost five months. He had previously been with the same company for almost twenty-one years. His work ethic is epic. He is dependable to the nth degree. I've discovered that it's easy to scare him. He has a lot of routines around the house. I tend to hide in our closet, with the light off, and wait for him to open the door. I know about how long it takes him to walk the perimeter downstairs. I know he has a set routine for how he places his things on the armoire.
He continues to work part-time at Walmart and has been on several promising interviews, though none has panned out to this point. It is tough to see him struggle to find work. He has taken to making self-deprecating comments and though I know they're not true, it's hard to hear him make them.
We have been staggering under the embarrassment of blessings that has come our way. It's gone a lot more smoothly over the past five months than we could have ever imagined.
That's not to say it hasn't required a lot of spiritual and emotional fortitude. The kids, especially Bekah, are old enough to want things and to ask about why we don't have things. Last night, for example, we went to Three Oaks. She really wanted to visit a pool. We had received some money from my dad after the movie on Friday night. I explained to her that we didn't have a lot of extra money, and that going to the pool could be expensive. I said she had a choice, either we go to Three Oaks, which is free, and get ice cream, or we go to a pool and get no ice cream.
She was nonplussed, but ultimately, she decided on the ice cream. (Actually, it's custard. And I'm gonna stop you right there, because you're going to say it's the same thing. It's really not. There is only one place for custard and it's Julie Ann's. There are many places in the region for custard, but Julie Ann's is the only one of consequence.)
There is a part of both Brian and I that wants to just be able to do things, without having to get out the adding machine and abacus and trying to see if it's feasible. We want to be able to say yes more. At the same time, we see how entitled our kids already act. We shake our heads about that and lament how much worse it would be if we actually were able to say yes more.
Ultimately, whatever job God decides to place Brian in, we are going to have to continue to be good stewards of those resources. It may make it easier to maneuver (we don't have credit cards, we only use cash), but ultimately we aren't going to be able to travel to Hawaii.
I am not sure where I'm going with this, except to say that I love my husband a lot, both because he's a great husband and a great father. The kids all love him tremendously and enjoy being with him. I am hopeful that this period of unemployment ends sooner rather than later. I am trying hard to keep the faith that God has a plan. I'm doing my best not to wrest the pen away from him while he's in the middle of writing it.
Saturday, June 29, 2019
Lovin' Summer
We just got home from the beach. It's not the ocean, though my kids (two of whom saw the Pacific Ocean when they were quite small) think that it is.
A few years ago, our city repurposed a quarry. They dredged it, filled it with water, and erected a splash pad, park and other buildings around it. It's free to get in. Every year, we do our best to get there more than a couple of times. It gets tough because of the kids' schedules, the weather, etc.
Earlier this week, we went later in the day, around 5:30 PM. It closes at 7:30 PM, so by 5:30, the crowds have thinned considerably. The kids had an absolute blast, though I was on my own with the kids. This makes it a little overwhelming. The place isn't huge, but it can be difficult to keep eyes on everyone. A few nights ago, I met up with a mom friend and we were able to keep our collective eyes on everyone.
Today was a busy day, as most Saturdays are for us anymore. I got up early to do my normal Saturday morning thing. Then I cleaned out the Toyota. I hadn't done that in a while. We have started carpooling to dance with one of Bekah's friends. The thought of her getting in the Toyota, that was quite full of garbage, was embarrassing.
By the time I finished cleaning the car out, I had to go get her, then Bekah, and drop them off at the dance studio. I walked a dog, Tony, for 60 minutes. It ended up being a longer walk because the poor guy, a black giant schnauzer, was really overheated. It was 90 degrees by 10 AM and he and I were both fairly miserable.
After I was done with the walk, I had a few minutes to mess around on my phone and then go back, pick the girls up and take Bekah's friend home.
In an attempt to prevent my face from gracing the walls of the library, I'm trying to be a more conscientious library patron. So we headed over to the library to return a couple of books. Back home for lunch, then I took a walk to play Harry Potter.
Back home, then Brian and I tackled the garage. We are going to inherit a freezer for the garage, something I know is usually a waste for people. We have a refrigerator that is 20+ years old, so the freezer side (it's a side-by-side) is miniscule. We love to shop at Costco, but sometimes struggle to fit all the frozen items in the freezer at one time.
Once we finished that project, we made dinner and loaded up for Three Oaks.
It's one of those days where I am feeling grateful and I'm not even entirely sure why. It was glorious to have kind of a letter-perfect summer day. I didn't take a single picture at Three Oaks. I didn't feel the need to plaster Facebook with everything we did. I just kept moving the whole day. My kids kept moving the whole day.
Jeremy is already headed off to bed, which is pretty normal but also glorious. The rest will drop like rocks. I have to say, there have been years where I couldn't physically keep going to get them worn out. Lately, even though the scale hasn't been budging, I've had a decent amount of energy. I am okay with sitting still, but I don't have to take a nap every day (I used to take at least a 2-hour nap every day).
I have dinner heating up, thanks to my dad. He volunteers with Salvation Army once a week. He goes around to local businesses and rounds up all the bread (normally *just* bread) and then takes it back to the Salvation Army church. This week, Costco had given them quite a bit of meat and other things. Nothing is technically expired, it's just at the very edge of it. We had pork tenderloin buttons last night and are having ribs tonight. No muss, no fuss.
I feel silly being so grateful when it seems unwarranted. I'm going to go with it, though.
A few years ago, our city repurposed a quarry. They dredged it, filled it with water, and erected a splash pad, park and other buildings around it. It's free to get in. Every year, we do our best to get there more than a couple of times. It gets tough because of the kids' schedules, the weather, etc.
Earlier this week, we went later in the day, around 5:30 PM. It closes at 7:30 PM, so by 5:30, the crowds have thinned considerably. The kids had an absolute blast, though I was on my own with the kids. This makes it a little overwhelming. The place isn't huge, but it can be difficult to keep eyes on everyone. A few nights ago, I met up with a mom friend and we were able to keep our collective eyes on everyone.
Today was a busy day, as most Saturdays are for us anymore. I got up early to do my normal Saturday morning thing. Then I cleaned out the Toyota. I hadn't done that in a while. We have started carpooling to dance with one of Bekah's friends. The thought of her getting in the Toyota, that was quite full of garbage, was embarrassing.
By the time I finished cleaning the car out, I had to go get her, then Bekah, and drop them off at the dance studio. I walked a dog, Tony, for 60 minutes. It ended up being a longer walk because the poor guy, a black giant schnauzer, was really overheated. It was 90 degrees by 10 AM and he and I were both fairly miserable.
After I was done with the walk, I had a few minutes to mess around on my phone and then go back, pick the girls up and take Bekah's friend home.
In an attempt to prevent my face from gracing the walls of the library, I'm trying to be a more conscientious library patron. So we headed over to the library to return a couple of books. Back home for lunch, then I took a walk to play Harry Potter.
Back home, then Brian and I tackled the garage. We are going to inherit a freezer for the garage, something I know is usually a waste for people. We have a refrigerator that is 20+ years old, so the freezer side (it's a side-by-side) is miniscule. We love to shop at Costco, but sometimes struggle to fit all the frozen items in the freezer at one time.
Once we finished that project, we made dinner and loaded up for Three Oaks.
It's one of those days where I am feeling grateful and I'm not even entirely sure why. It was glorious to have kind of a letter-perfect summer day. I didn't take a single picture at Three Oaks. I didn't feel the need to plaster Facebook with everything we did. I just kept moving the whole day. My kids kept moving the whole day.
Jeremy is already headed off to bed, which is pretty normal but also glorious. The rest will drop like rocks. I have to say, there have been years where I couldn't physically keep going to get them worn out. Lately, even though the scale hasn't been budging, I've had a decent amount of energy. I am okay with sitting still, but I don't have to take a nap every day (I used to take at least a 2-hour nap every day).
I have dinner heating up, thanks to my dad. He volunteers with Salvation Army once a week. He goes around to local businesses and rounds up all the bread (normally *just* bread) and then takes it back to the Salvation Army church. This week, Costco had given them quite a bit of meat and other things. Nothing is technically expired, it's just at the very edge of it. We had pork tenderloin buttons last night and are having ribs tonight. No muss, no fuss.
I feel silly being so grateful when it seems unwarranted. I'm going to go with it, though.
Friday, June 28, 2019
That One Time We Tried to Be Normal and Do Things
It's late and I can feel the sleepiness creeping over me already. (I will say, it's odd to consider 9:35 PM late, but here I find myself.)
My mom and dad took the kids, Brian and I to see Toy Story 4. The last time Brian and I took the kids to see a movie was Zootopia. Brooklyn was still on the inside. We were unaware that she was going to make an early appearance.
Taking kids to see a movie is one of those things that seems fun in theory. I am grateful that my dad treated us today. I am also grateful that it's such a rare occurrence.
As soon as the lights in the theater went down, Brookie fell asleep. I didn't realize this until about 10 minutes into the movie.
Meanwhile, Doug made loud proclamations during the previews. After the Frozen II trailer, he said, quite loudly, "are you freaking kidding me with this? November?" I was pretty grateful the theater was mostly dark, as it allowed me to pretend that he was a stray child who just happened to wander into our group.
There was Jeremy, who always wants to be Jerry Lewis but is mostly relegated to being Dean Martin. He gets the most laughs when he isn't trying so hard to make everyone laugh.
Bekah did her best to seem small and unassuming, though she did occasionally shush her brothers.
I smuggled my Contigo mug of coffee into the theater, because a) I love coffee and b) I like to break rules (not always, hence my full name on Facebook instead of the name most people call me). I drank most of it while we were there. I did regret taking a sip at one point after a well-timed line by Forky. (It was all I could do to keep the coffee in my mouth and not spit it out or have it come out of my nose.)
Probably about halfway through the movie, I had to use the washroom. I'm a woman who has had four kids. I love coffee and I drink a lot of water. It wreaks havoc on me. I forgot to check RunPee to see when I should make a break for the bathroom. As soon as the end credits started rolling, I made a beeline for the bathroom.
As I walked out, I heard Doug and Jeremy signal that they were ready to go. I left Brian to deal with it, so as to avoid an embarrassing public incident.
I needn't have worried, it turns out that Brookie had that taken care of. She just recently became potty-trained. We had her wear underwear to the theater, thinking of course that we would just check in on her throughout the movie. The thought occurred to me, partway through the movie, that it would be better for her to have a diaper on. Unfortunately, as I've been doing the "hallelujah-my-12-year-streak-of-buying-diapers-has-concluded" dance, I stopped carrying the diaper bag. (Honestly, a diaper bag with number four has been hit-or-miss for me. I just rifled through the bag last week and found a pair of 18-month pants and a 2T shirt. The girl's been wearing 4T for several months now.)
So, it turns out that she was asleep hard enough that she wet her pants. Brian had to deal with that situation in addition to Jeremy and Doug being ready to forcefully exit the theater. Meanwhile, Bekah and I didn't know where anyone was. We finally connected with my parents, only to discover that we had missed a post-credits scene.
Upon arriving home, Bekah got angry (thanks, tween hormones), walked into the house just ahead of me and slammed the door in my face. I told her to go to bed, but she felt compelled to be extremely emotional in close proximity to me.
I bailed and went on a walk because between that and Brookie's situation needing to be managed, I had hit my limit.
Irony of all ironies, Brooklyn had taken a very chintzy paddleball (not the normal-sized one, a smaller, plastic one) into the theater. In the melee of leaving, we left it behind. She cried when she realized she forgot it. It became an important lesson in why we don't let the kids take their toys places. It was also an important homage to Forky.
My mom and dad took the kids, Brian and I to see Toy Story 4. The last time Brian and I took the kids to see a movie was Zootopia. Brooklyn was still on the inside. We were unaware that she was going to make an early appearance.
Taking kids to see a movie is one of those things that seems fun in theory. I am grateful that my dad treated us today. I am also grateful that it's such a rare occurrence.
As soon as the lights in the theater went down, Brookie fell asleep. I didn't realize this until about 10 minutes into the movie.
Meanwhile, Doug made loud proclamations during the previews. After the Frozen II trailer, he said, quite loudly, "are you freaking kidding me with this? November?" I was pretty grateful the theater was mostly dark, as it allowed me to pretend that he was a stray child who just happened to wander into our group.
There was Jeremy, who always wants to be Jerry Lewis but is mostly relegated to being Dean Martin. He gets the most laughs when he isn't trying so hard to make everyone laugh.
Bekah did her best to seem small and unassuming, though she did occasionally shush her brothers.
I smuggled my Contigo mug of coffee into the theater, because a) I love coffee and b) I like to break rules (not always, hence my full name on Facebook instead of the name most people call me). I drank most of it while we were there. I did regret taking a sip at one point after a well-timed line by Forky. (It was all I could do to keep the coffee in my mouth and not spit it out or have it come out of my nose.)
Probably about halfway through the movie, I had to use the washroom. I'm a woman who has had four kids. I love coffee and I drink a lot of water. It wreaks havoc on me. I forgot to check RunPee to see when I should make a break for the bathroom. As soon as the end credits started rolling, I made a beeline for the bathroom.
As I walked out, I heard Doug and Jeremy signal that they were ready to go. I left Brian to deal with it, so as to avoid an embarrassing public incident.
I needn't have worried, it turns out that Brookie had that taken care of. She just recently became potty-trained. We had her wear underwear to the theater, thinking of course that we would just check in on her throughout the movie. The thought occurred to me, partway through the movie, that it would be better for her to have a diaper on. Unfortunately, as I've been doing the "hallelujah-my-12-year-streak-of-buying-diapers-has-concluded" dance, I stopped carrying the diaper bag. (Honestly, a diaper bag with number four has been hit-or-miss for me. I just rifled through the bag last week and found a pair of 18-month pants and a 2T shirt. The girl's been wearing 4T for several months now.)
So, it turns out that she was asleep hard enough that she wet her pants. Brian had to deal with that situation in addition to Jeremy and Doug being ready to forcefully exit the theater. Meanwhile, Bekah and I didn't know where anyone was. We finally connected with my parents, only to discover that we had missed a post-credits scene.
Upon arriving home, Bekah got angry (thanks, tween hormones), walked into the house just ahead of me and slammed the door in my face. I told her to go to bed, but she felt compelled to be extremely emotional in close proximity to me.
I bailed and went on a walk because between that and Brookie's situation needing to be managed, I had hit my limit.
Irony of all ironies, Brooklyn had taken a very chintzy paddleball (not the normal-sized one, a smaller, plastic one) into the theater. In the melee of leaving, we left it behind. She cried when she realized she forgot it. It became an important lesson in why we don't let the kids take their toys places. It was also an important homage to Forky.
Thursday, June 27, 2019
This American Life
The days of this week have whizzed by. I have been getting up early and then the next thing I know, it's time for dinner.
I started playing Harry Potter Wizards Unite (because if it wasn't clear already, I'm a nerd). I'm not obsessive, but I'm enjoying it. It's been getting me outside more, which is good. It's been helping my mood quite a bit. If you're so inclined and you want to add me, my name is NoelCharbonneau and my code is 0802 9601 2596.
I have had to shake my head this week, that this is my life.
My kids have kept me on my toes, to be sure. Jeremy has been doing coding camp at a place called Code Ninjas. I am excited for him because I feel like this could be a real thing for him. Brian has dropped him off the past couple of days. It seems like, at least in Brian's estimation, that every other kid in there is like Jeremy. He seems to be enjoying the class. He is developing an app, that's about the most information I can get from him. He's not a man for small talk, as he's so indelicately informed me on multiple occasions. I am fortunate for the small tidbits he lays out for me from time to time. Other than that, I usually get monosyllabic answers like, "fine," "nothing," "yes," "no."
He's in class from 1-4. It seems like a good amount of time, but it gets eaten up quickly.
11-1 is the time of day most in demand for dog walks. Even if a walk is only for a half an hour, with transport time to and from it can add up to an hour. (Add in side trips for Wizards Unite to recharge energy or complete challenges and it takes a wee bit longer.)
If I'm checking in on dogs, as I was for most of the week, then it becomes a whole thing. I start at 10:30 and it seems like I don't get home until 2. It's fantastic to be earning money. It also makes time go much faster than I'm used to it going.
In some ways, I focus myself more when I'm at home. I've imposed a schedule on my day. It's kind of a loose latticework. I'm trying to spend less time on my phone and more time building into the things that give me joy.
Mornings are for crochet. I've got a line of projects in front of me. I didn't get around to making end-of-the-year teacher gifts, so I'm working on them now. I mostly watch YouTube to learn new stitches. Right now, I'm toward the end of making my first shawl. I've gotten lots of compliments on it. (I will post a pic of it when I'm done with it, I'll include it in the comments section of an upcoming blog post.) But mornings are for crochet. I spend at least an hour working on my project. I'm planning on doing a couple more shawls, some dish cloths and then a blanket for a friend's daughter who's headed off to college in the fall.
Midday is dogs. It's fun, I get outside, I get exercise, I get to play Wizards Unite.
After I get home from that (and also from transporting whichever child from whichever activity), I start thinking about dinner. I normally try to be thinking about it sooner. This is the point of the day when I go into a dead panic about whether I have all the necessary ingredients. I'm realizing, as I write this, that I need to start meal planning again. We had been doing a meal delivery service, but we quit because too many of the meals weren't compliant with our personal food protocol. I need to sit down and actually write things down, make an inventory, make a shopping list. It's just that my head has been spinning so much lately, I've not been able to plan and execute things well.
Once dinner is set aside (even if I've not executed anything), then it's time for reading. I sit down for a little while (again, depending on the schedule) and try to move the bookmark a little further along.
Then, dinnertime. I try to prepare a meal while being peppered with questions in the world's most repetitive press conference. Most questions are centered on how soon dinner is going to be ready. There is also an equal smattering of dinosaur-related questions. Recently, Brookie has opened a line of questions relating to Halloween (because it's never too soon to prep for that holiday).
It's under this barrage that I attempt to create dinner. I've long abandoned trying to make nutritional meals. The kids get a rotation of chicken nuggets, frozen pepperoni pizza and hot dogs. I tend to make a separate track of food for Brian and myself, usually something big on taste, lots of veggies and protein, and plenty of healthy fats. I aim for leftovers because it makes less work for me.
Then, after I've managed to satiate my children's hunger (which, these days, seems nearly impossible), I make some decaf, have a serving of dark chocolate and write.
I don't know why the rhythm of the day is working so well, but there's something about it that has been helping tremendously. I get to the end of the night, and I can point to the things that I've accomplished. I'm still trying to work in Bible-reading time, but it's been about a week. I'm still ironing out the kinks.
But this life I'm living (I digressed from that train of thought). My kids are just amazing people. Bekah's passion for dance is extraordinary. Last week, the studio was closed. It was a well-deserved break for the instructors and staff. Bekah, however, floundered. She didn't quite know what to do with herself. Someone commented to me, after one of the shows for her recent recital, about how well Bekah had done. I thanked the person by saying, "thank you, she works so hard!" And the person responded, "oh, yeah. Everyone knows how hard Bekah works." It was that compliment (echoed by her instructors) that gave me pause.
She loves to dance and she wants to be the best, and she's willing to work as hard as she needs to. It is so much fun to watch her on stage. I cry almost every time I watch her. She is always a bundle of nerves leading up to the performance. It's a lot to manage, trying to help reassure her that we are going to be on time. She went to great lengths to help me keep the most recent round of rehearsals straight. I am a mess when it comes to scheduling, though I've been working extra hard to get everything lined up. (I actually have all the kids' activities in my Gmail calendar, imagine that!)
The other compliment that touched me is that Bekah is very kind and thoughtful with her fellow dancers. I love her work ethic, but I'm so grateful that she sets that aside to love on people. She has done an amazing job lately with Brookie. After dinner, when bedtime is looming and my patience is a thin piece of vellum dangling between me and lunacy, Bekah starts running interference. She has even, on occasion, gotten Brookie to sleep.
I don't like to take credit for Bekah because I've mostly just tried to get out of the way so God can work. It's the same with all the kids. Brookie came up to me today as I was cutting zucchini and said, "mommy, Bebba is crying. Can you come see her and hug her and tickle her?"
And maybe that's partly me, the compassion and caring. All the kids are good at cracking jokes to lighten the mood, which is maybe also me. But they are their own people. I could only dream about being as funny as Doug. He has a sense of timing that is second to none. Today, we went to the dollar store for some buckets. I told him he could pick something out. I was fairly certain it was going to be a dino, but he surprised me and got a shark. As we were walking away, he said, almost to himself, "yeah, this is perfect for my Jaws collection. It's a megalodon." (So it was dino-adjacent, I suppose.)
He also has been doing this thing lately where we will joke with him. He will laugh along, but then he will nervously ask, "you're just joking, right, mommy?" The boy calls me his best friend, which can only absolutely melt your heart. And all of it balances out the disasters he wreaks on our house, like the art on the wall and crashing the curtains off of my bedroom wall.
So this is where I'm at. I feel so grateful that I've been chosen for this. I had a conversation with a friend this morning about the times we say, "why, God?" And this morning, I was able to turn it around. "Why, God? Why didn't that happen to me? How did I get away with that? How wasn't I caught doing that?" I mean, it's really the truth. The people that have done things and been caught, I'm not better than them. I just haven't been caught. Not truly heinous things, but I mean, I've sidestepped some serious things. And I marvel that this is what God has given to me.
Things are not perfect in my life. I'm still waiting on some answers that I think I'm owed, though the reality is that they will come when it's God's perfect time.
So here I sit, watching TV, my girls snoring quietly on the couch next to me. And I'll be up again tomorrow, ready to do it all over again.
I started playing Harry Potter Wizards Unite (because if it wasn't clear already, I'm a nerd). I'm not obsessive, but I'm enjoying it. It's been getting me outside more, which is good. It's been helping my mood quite a bit. If you're so inclined and you want to add me, my name is NoelCharbonneau and my code is 0802 9601 2596.
I have had to shake my head this week, that this is my life.
My kids have kept me on my toes, to be sure. Jeremy has been doing coding camp at a place called Code Ninjas. I am excited for him because I feel like this could be a real thing for him. Brian has dropped him off the past couple of days. It seems like, at least in Brian's estimation, that every other kid in there is like Jeremy. He seems to be enjoying the class. He is developing an app, that's about the most information I can get from him. He's not a man for small talk, as he's so indelicately informed me on multiple occasions. I am fortunate for the small tidbits he lays out for me from time to time. Other than that, I usually get monosyllabic answers like, "fine," "nothing," "yes," "no."
He's in class from 1-4. It seems like a good amount of time, but it gets eaten up quickly.
11-1 is the time of day most in demand for dog walks. Even if a walk is only for a half an hour, with transport time to and from it can add up to an hour. (Add in side trips for Wizards Unite to recharge energy or complete challenges and it takes a wee bit longer.)
If I'm checking in on dogs, as I was for most of the week, then it becomes a whole thing. I start at 10:30 and it seems like I don't get home until 2. It's fantastic to be earning money. It also makes time go much faster than I'm used to it going.
In some ways, I focus myself more when I'm at home. I've imposed a schedule on my day. It's kind of a loose latticework. I'm trying to spend less time on my phone and more time building into the things that give me joy.
Mornings are for crochet. I've got a line of projects in front of me. I didn't get around to making end-of-the-year teacher gifts, so I'm working on them now. I mostly watch YouTube to learn new stitches. Right now, I'm toward the end of making my first shawl. I've gotten lots of compliments on it. (I will post a pic of it when I'm done with it, I'll include it in the comments section of an upcoming blog post.) But mornings are for crochet. I spend at least an hour working on my project. I'm planning on doing a couple more shawls, some dish cloths and then a blanket for a friend's daughter who's headed off to college in the fall.
Midday is dogs. It's fun, I get outside, I get exercise, I get to play Wizards Unite.
After I get home from that (and also from transporting whichever child from whichever activity), I start thinking about dinner. I normally try to be thinking about it sooner. This is the point of the day when I go into a dead panic about whether I have all the necessary ingredients. I'm realizing, as I write this, that I need to start meal planning again. We had been doing a meal delivery service, but we quit because too many of the meals weren't compliant with our personal food protocol. I need to sit down and actually write things down, make an inventory, make a shopping list. It's just that my head has been spinning so much lately, I've not been able to plan and execute things well.
Once dinner is set aside (even if I've not executed anything), then it's time for reading. I sit down for a little while (again, depending on the schedule) and try to move the bookmark a little further along.
Then, dinnertime. I try to prepare a meal while being peppered with questions in the world's most repetitive press conference. Most questions are centered on how soon dinner is going to be ready. There is also an equal smattering of dinosaur-related questions. Recently, Brookie has opened a line of questions relating to Halloween (because it's never too soon to prep for that holiday).
It's under this barrage that I attempt to create dinner. I've long abandoned trying to make nutritional meals. The kids get a rotation of chicken nuggets, frozen pepperoni pizza and hot dogs. I tend to make a separate track of food for Brian and myself, usually something big on taste, lots of veggies and protein, and plenty of healthy fats. I aim for leftovers because it makes less work for me.
Then, after I've managed to satiate my children's hunger (which, these days, seems nearly impossible), I make some decaf, have a serving of dark chocolate and write.
I don't know why the rhythm of the day is working so well, but there's something about it that has been helping tremendously. I get to the end of the night, and I can point to the things that I've accomplished. I'm still trying to work in Bible-reading time, but it's been about a week. I'm still ironing out the kinks.
But this life I'm living (I digressed from that train of thought). My kids are just amazing people. Bekah's passion for dance is extraordinary. Last week, the studio was closed. It was a well-deserved break for the instructors and staff. Bekah, however, floundered. She didn't quite know what to do with herself. Someone commented to me, after one of the shows for her recent recital, about how well Bekah had done. I thanked the person by saying, "thank you, she works so hard!" And the person responded, "oh, yeah. Everyone knows how hard Bekah works." It was that compliment (echoed by her instructors) that gave me pause.
She loves to dance and she wants to be the best, and she's willing to work as hard as she needs to. It is so much fun to watch her on stage. I cry almost every time I watch her. She is always a bundle of nerves leading up to the performance. It's a lot to manage, trying to help reassure her that we are going to be on time. She went to great lengths to help me keep the most recent round of rehearsals straight. I am a mess when it comes to scheduling, though I've been working extra hard to get everything lined up. (I actually have all the kids' activities in my Gmail calendar, imagine that!)
The other compliment that touched me is that Bekah is very kind and thoughtful with her fellow dancers. I love her work ethic, but I'm so grateful that she sets that aside to love on people. She has done an amazing job lately with Brookie. After dinner, when bedtime is looming and my patience is a thin piece of vellum dangling between me and lunacy, Bekah starts running interference. She has even, on occasion, gotten Brookie to sleep.
I don't like to take credit for Bekah because I've mostly just tried to get out of the way so God can work. It's the same with all the kids. Brookie came up to me today as I was cutting zucchini and said, "mommy, Bebba is crying. Can you come see her and hug her and tickle her?"
And maybe that's partly me, the compassion and caring. All the kids are good at cracking jokes to lighten the mood, which is maybe also me. But they are their own people. I could only dream about being as funny as Doug. He has a sense of timing that is second to none. Today, we went to the dollar store for some buckets. I told him he could pick something out. I was fairly certain it was going to be a dino, but he surprised me and got a shark. As we were walking away, he said, almost to himself, "yeah, this is perfect for my Jaws collection. It's a megalodon." (So it was dino-adjacent, I suppose.)
He also has been doing this thing lately where we will joke with him. He will laugh along, but then he will nervously ask, "you're just joking, right, mommy?" The boy calls me his best friend, which can only absolutely melt your heart. And all of it balances out the disasters he wreaks on our house, like the art on the wall and crashing the curtains off of my bedroom wall.
So this is where I'm at. I feel so grateful that I've been chosen for this. I had a conversation with a friend this morning about the times we say, "why, God?" And this morning, I was able to turn it around. "Why, God? Why didn't that happen to me? How did I get away with that? How wasn't I caught doing that?" I mean, it's really the truth. The people that have done things and been caught, I'm not better than them. I just haven't been caught. Not truly heinous things, but I mean, I've sidestepped some serious things. And I marvel that this is what God has given to me.
Things are not perfect in my life. I'm still waiting on some answers that I think I'm owed, though the reality is that they will come when it's God's perfect time.
So here I sit, watching TV, my girls snoring quietly on the couch next to me. And I'll be up again tomorrow, ready to do it all over again.
Wednesday, June 26, 2019
Something in the Summertime
It's late and I'm tired.
It was a glorious summer day. The weather was hot and humid, which is what you'd expect on a day in late June.
Everyone had something to do today. Bekah played with a friend from school. Jeremy went to coding camp. Doug had summer camp.
Brookie and Doug swam in the pool after Doug got home from school. After Jeremy got done, we went to Three Oaks, a manmade lake and park that's close by.
Brookie swam her little heart out, both in the pool and in the lake. She was happy as a clam.
We ran into some friends who moved away a year or so ago. It was good to catch up with them.
I met up with some mom friends. One of them helped me with Doug, who went far afield a couple of times.
I walked 17,000 steps today. I have been playing the new Harry Potter game. It's fun and it's been helping me get outside and get moving.
I took a kickboxing class on Monday night. I felt better leaving that class than I have felt for months. I am hoping to be able to start training with my friend again. I am realizing that hard physical activity is necessary for my mental well-being.
I wish I had more profound things to write about tonight. I really did have a lovely day. It was good to be outside, to see friends (new and old) and to be out and about, without heavy expectations on who I'm supposed to be.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow. It's been a long time since I was able to say I was looking forward to the day that's on the horizon. I'm gonna count that as a win.
It was a glorious summer day. The weather was hot and humid, which is what you'd expect on a day in late June.
Everyone had something to do today. Bekah played with a friend from school. Jeremy went to coding camp. Doug had summer camp.
Brookie and Doug swam in the pool after Doug got home from school. After Jeremy got done, we went to Three Oaks, a manmade lake and park that's close by.
Brookie swam her little heart out, both in the pool and in the lake. She was happy as a clam.
We ran into some friends who moved away a year or so ago. It was good to catch up with them.
I met up with some mom friends. One of them helped me with Doug, who went far afield a couple of times.
I walked 17,000 steps today. I have been playing the new Harry Potter game. It's fun and it's been helping me get outside and get moving.
I took a kickboxing class on Monday night. I felt better leaving that class than I have felt for months. I am hoping to be able to start training with my friend again. I am realizing that hard physical activity is necessary for my mental well-being.
I wish I had more profound things to write about tonight. I really did have a lovely day. It was good to be outside, to see friends (new and old) and to be out and about, without heavy expectations on who I'm supposed to be.
I'm looking forward to tomorrow. It's been a long time since I was able to say I was looking forward to the day that's on the horizon. I'm gonna count that as a win.
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
The Good, the Bad and the Poorly Written
I have always loved reading and books. Always.
I remember in third grade (or maybe second) that I started being sent to fifth grade for reading. I enjoyed it. It helped reinforce that I was different. (I'm now realizing that was a good thing, but back then, having just transferred in to a public school from a private one, it was not wonderful.)
Anyway, in my school district they tested for the gifted program in third grade. I desperately wanted to be a part of the gifted program. However, while I tested well in most areas, I missed qualifying because my math scores weren't high enough.
I feel like I've told this story before, so I won't dwell on it.
It was in sixth and seventh grade that poems and images started appearing in my head. I wrote some of them down. In high school, I returned to them when I started taking creative writing.
Most of them were your typical tween angst fare. I remember in high school, Carol had Aaron Anstett, a friend and published poet, visit us for an assembly and reading. (He is the author of a poem, Grace, which is one of my most favorite.) He read several poems and we sat, attentive, trying to read between the lines and "figure out" the poetry. He read us one poem and we sat there, blinking. He then informed us that poetry could be funny.
This blew our minds. Up to this point, I felt like poetry had to be the product of a tortured soul, a broken heart, a tragedy.
In any case, my writing in high school matured a bit.
Carol's mantra for writing was to write what you know, which was originally penned by Mark Twain. She attributed it to Raymond Carver, one of her favorite authors.
Back then, we (those of us in the creative writing program at Elgin High School) were quite snobbish about what good writing was. We had very definite opinions on who was a good author--Margaret Atwood, Li-Young Lee, Aaron Anstett, and who was not good--Robert James Waller, Danielle Steel and, though she wasn't a thing back then, I would include E. L. James in this part of the list.
I had a very low view of fantasy writing in general. When I stumbled upon Harry Potter in 2005 (yes, I tend to arrive at trends later than most), this upended most of my thinking.
Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Honeyduke's. These were not real places. They were not things that someone knew because they spent time in the physical locations. It seemed to nullify the "write what you know. J.K. Rowling didn't know the subject, in the traditional sense.
I have read the Harry Potter series multiple times, from book one all the way through. It usually takes me about a week and a half to get through all of the books. Every time I read it, I find more things that I either didn't remember or hadn't noticed before.
I realize, now, after reading the series and reading corresponding articles, that J.K. Rowling knew about the Potterverse. She new absolutely every intricate detail of that universe. I don't doubt that she could answer back stories to any character, however inconsequential to the overarching storyline. She immersed herself in the subject. That was her passion.
I have no desire to read George R. R. Martin, but I suspect the same would be true of him. Even though he's never encountered a dragon or seen the Night King, he knows the subject, he understands the intricacies of his own universe.
There are several others that I wouldn't consider Great American Authors, but are authors that I enjoy reading. Fundamentally, reading has to be fun. I have tried to suffer through Anna Karenina on multiple occasions and I just haven't been able to get through it. That's not to say it's not an amazing novel, but it's just not (or wasn't, at the time) something that moved me.
The four authors to whom I am incredibly devoted are John Sandford, Michael Connelly, Kathy Reichs and Jonathan Kellerman.
Kathy Reichs is, in my opinion, a top-notch author. She is, in real life, a forensic anthropologist. She helped create the show Bones that aired for twelve seasons. She is legitimately a genius when it comes to science and anthropology. As well, she does a good job of constructing a narrative. I have read all but one (or two) of her novels. Her character development is excellent. I cried when she killed off one of her characters. I don't often do that.
John Sandford and Michael Connelly are strictly authors. They write detective novels. I know there are a lot of authors who do that. I couldn't tell you specifically why I like them. They both do a good job of moving the story forward. The character development isn't on the same level as Ms. Reichs. That's not to say they don't write well, it's just that they aren't as good as Ms. Reichs.
Jonathan Kellerman writes detective novels as well, but his characters are a bit unique. His main character is a psychologist. He works with a detective to solve cases that are hard to solve or have an unusual angle to them. I mention him because it's still within the detective genre, but different enough from the others I've mentioned. I've not read him for a couple of years, more than anything because I don't make time for it. His wife, Faye Kellerman, also writes. In my opinion, she does better with character development than her husband.
I am an incredibly faithful reader of these authors. Again, they are not writing To Kill A Mockingbird, but they write novels that help me escape into another dimension.
I will also mention an author whom I stopped reading. I'm hoping this shows that although I'm loyal to authors, I am discerning.
I started reading Patricia Cornwell many years ago. She is a medical examiner who is also an author. I read her novels in order and enjoyed them. She almost lost me when she brought a character back from the dead (Carol taught me that I should not trick readers and I look down my nose at authors that do).
Then, I made a trip to the library for one of her new novels. I just looked online to see what novel it was. I believe it was Blow Fly, though I am not positive. I got home from the library, cracked it open, read the first page....and slammed it shut. It read very differently from all of her previous novels. It felt foreign to me. I didn't even give it a chance. I have never returned to her books.
Alice Hoffman is another author who lost me. Seventh Heaven and Practical Magic are two of my favorite of her novels. (The movie is a bastardization of the book. If I didn't know the book existed, I would love the movie. It's just too hard, as a lover of books, to have that attitude.) I have read several of her other novels multiple times. She writes magical realism and she does it beautifully.
Some years ago, I read one of her newer novels, The River King. It was, for lack of a better word, awful. Horrible. I read it because I felt I owed it to her, but it was not done well. I didn't fall in love with the characters, I didn't get lost in the scenery, I didn't get hooked in.
I haven't read any of Ms. Hoffman's works for a long time. I might, now that I'm reminiscing, go back and read one of her early works. For that matter, I need to read The Handmaid's Tale. As she was one of Carol's favorite author's, we were tasked with reading some of Ms. Atwood's works. I remember reading Cat's Eye and I know I read some of her poetry, but I don't believe I ever read The Handmaid's Tale. I am leery because I know how much Carol loves her (and I love Carol), but I am worried that I either won't relate or won't enjoy it. I will, however, read it because I feel like it's important.
I need to mention an opinion that I know may not be popular with my Christian friends. I do not care for Christian fiction. I feel it has a valid place in the canon of fiction, but it has never resonated with me. I find that, for the most part, the characters feel like purified versions of what Christians deem as morally and spiritually fit.
The one exception I will make to this is the Elizabeth Gail series. I remember this series fondly from childhood. The protagonist resonated with me. She had an attitude, she felt like an outsider, she struggled. That felt real to me. It wasn't a whitewashed version of things. There wasn't swearing or sex or anything (to be clear, I don't believe a novel has to feature that to be considered well-written), but it was relatable.
Aside from that, I do not read Christian fiction at all. I apologize to my brothers and sisters who write it. I know you have an audience and I know you are good writers. It's just not my bag, in the same way that though Tolkien was an amazing author, The Return of the King kept me in a semi-vegetative state while I tried to get through it.
I went far afield, but here is some of what I was trying to say.
First, I now (in large part due to Carol's encouragement) consider myself gifted. I may not understand discrete equations and calculus, my grasp on physics may be tenuous at best, but that does not negate the true talent I have.
I love to crochet and for a long time, I hesitated to share my work with people. I have acquaintances who crochet and who have been doing it for a lot longer. I was ashamed of my work because I thought it was inferior to theirs.
Here's the thing. The things I crochet have been well-received. I have improved from when I started. I now receive compliments on my work. That doesn't mean the others aren't also talented. Me crafting beautiful things, be it in the written word or in yarn, isn't negated by what someone else creates. It's not an all-or-nothing proposition.
Second, I feel very strongly that evaluating writing as good or bad is very subjective. Everyone is different and has different tastes. This is why there are so many authors. This is why there are millions of different books and genres and types of fiction.
I have been in the process of writing a novel. I stalled out a couple of years ago. I developed a lot of self-doubt. Someone asked me what genre it was. Someone else asked me another question about it. I allowed those questions, which weren't bad questions, but I allowed those questions to take all of the wind out of my sails.
This is day number eight of my current writing streak. Every day that I write, I get new confidence in my abilities and I feel myself getting more empowered. I still am not sure what genre the novel is and whether or not a traditional publisher will every be interested. I have no idea if it will make money or change the trajectory of my family. I do know, however, that every day it lies dormant, I make myself vulnerable to believe the lies I tell myself.
I need to dust off the Google doc and get on with it. Stay tuned.
I remember in third grade (or maybe second) that I started being sent to fifth grade for reading. I enjoyed it. It helped reinforce that I was different. (I'm now realizing that was a good thing, but back then, having just transferred in to a public school from a private one, it was not wonderful.)
Anyway, in my school district they tested for the gifted program in third grade. I desperately wanted to be a part of the gifted program. However, while I tested well in most areas, I missed qualifying because my math scores weren't high enough.
I feel like I've told this story before, so I won't dwell on it.
It was in sixth and seventh grade that poems and images started appearing in my head. I wrote some of them down. In high school, I returned to them when I started taking creative writing.
Most of them were your typical tween angst fare. I remember in high school, Carol had Aaron Anstett, a friend and published poet, visit us for an assembly and reading. (He is the author of a poem, Grace, which is one of my most favorite.) He read several poems and we sat, attentive, trying to read between the lines and "figure out" the poetry. He read us one poem and we sat there, blinking. He then informed us that poetry could be funny.
This blew our minds. Up to this point, I felt like poetry had to be the product of a tortured soul, a broken heart, a tragedy.
In any case, my writing in high school matured a bit.
Carol's mantra for writing was to write what you know, which was originally penned by Mark Twain. She attributed it to Raymond Carver, one of her favorite authors.
Back then, we (those of us in the creative writing program at Elgin High School) were quite snobbish about what good writing was. We had very definite opinions on who was a good author--Margaret Atwood, Li-Young Lee, Aaron Anstett, and who was not good--Robert James Waller, Danielle Steel and, though she wasn't a thing back then, I would include E. L. James in this part of the list.
I had a very low view of fantasy writing in general. When I stumbled upon Harry Potter in 2005 (yes, I tend to arrive at trends later than most), this upended most of my thinking.
Hogwarts, Diagon Alley, Honeyduke's. These were not real places. They were not things that someone knew because they spent time in the physical locations. It seemed to nullify the "write what you know. J.K. Rowling didn't know the subject, in the traditional sense.
I have read the Harry Potter series multiple times, from book one all the way through. It usually takes me about a week and a half to get through all of the books. Every time I read it, I find more things that I either didn't remember or hadn't noticed before.
I realize, now, after reading the series and reading corresponding articles, that J.K. Rowling knew about the Potterverse. She new absolutely every intricate detail of that universe. I don't doubt that she could answer back stories to any character, however inconsequential to the overarching storyline. She immersed herself in the subject. That was her passion.
I have no desire to read George R. R. Martin, but I suspect the same would be true of him. Even though he's never encountered a dragon or seen the Night King, he knows the subject, he understands the intricacies of his own universe.
There are several others that I wouldn't consider Great American Authors, but are authors that I enjoy reading. Fundamentally, reading has to be fun. I have tried to suffer through Anna Karenina on multiple occasions and I just haven't been able to get through it. That's not to say it's not an amazing novel, but it's just not (or wasn't, at the time) something that moved me.
The four authors to whom I am incredibly devoted are John Sandford, Michael Connelly, Kathy Reichs and Jonathan Kellerman.
Kathy Reichs is, in my opinion, a top-notch author. She is, in real life, a forensic anthropologist. She helped create the show Bones that aired for twelve seasons. She is legitimately a genius when it comes to science and anthropology. As well, she does a good job of constructing a narrative. I have read all but one (or two) of her novels. Her character development is excellent. I cried when she killed off one of her characters. I don't often do that.
John Sandford and Michael Connelly are strictly authors. They write detective novels. I know there are a lot of authors who do that. I couldn't tell you specifically why I like them. They both do a good job of moving the story forward. The character development isn't on the same level as Ms. Reichs. That's not to say they don't write well, it's just that they aren't as good as Ms. Reichs.
Jonathan Kellerman writes detective novels as well, but his characters are a bit unique. His main character is a psychologist. He works with a detective to solve cases that are hard to solve or have an unusual angle to them. I mention him because it's still within the detective genre, but different enough from the others I've mentioned. I've not read him for a couple of years, more than anything because I don't make time for it. His wife, Faye Kellerman, also writes. In my opinion, she does better with character development than her husband.
I am an incredibly faithful reader of these authors. Again, they are not writing To Kill A Mockingbird, but they write novels that help me escape into another dimension.
I will also mention an author whom I stopped reading. I'm hoping this shows that although I'm loyal to authors, I am discerning.
I started reading Patricia Cornwell many years ago. She is a medical examiner who is also an author. I read her novels in order and enjoyed them. She almost lost me when she brought a character back from the dead (Carol taught me that I should not trick readers and I look down my nose at authors that do).
Then, I made a trip to the library for one of her new novels. I just looked online to see what novel it was. I believe it was Blow Fly, though I am not positive. I got home from the library, cracked it open, read the first page....and slammed it shut. It read very differently from all of her previous novels. It felt foreign to me. I didn't even give it a chance. I have never returned to her books.
Alice Hoffman is another author who lost me. Seventh Heaven and Practical Magic are two of my favorite of her novels. (The movie is a bastardization of the book. If I didn't know the book existed, I would love the movie. It's just too hard, as a lover of books, to have that attitude.) I have read several of her other novels multiple times. She writes magical realism and she does it beautifully.
Some years ago, I read one of her newer novels, The River King. It was, for lack of a better word, awful. Horrible. I read it because I felt I owed it to her, but it was not done well. I didn't fall in love with the characters, I didn't get lost in the scenery, I didn't get hooked in.
I haven't read any of Ms. Hoffman's works for a long time. I might, now that I'm reminiscing, go back and read one of her early works. For that matter, I need to read The Handmaid's Tale. As she was one of Carol's favorite author's, we were tasked with reading some of Ms. Atwood's works. I remember reading Cat's Eye and I know I read some of her poetry, but I don't believe I ever read The Handmaid's Tale. I am leery because I know how much Carol loves her (and I love Carol), but I am worried that I either won't relate or won't enjoy it. I will, however, read it because I feel like it's important.
I need to mention an opinion that I know may not be popular with my Christian friends. I do not care for Christian fiction. I feel it has a valid place in the canon of fiction, but it has never resonated with me. I find that, for the most part, the characters feel like purified versions of what Christians deem as morally and spiritually fit.
The one exception I will make to this is the Elizabeth Gail series. I remember this series fondly from childhood. The protagonist resonated with me. She had an attitude, she felt like an outsider, she struggled. That felt real to me. It wasn't a whitewashed version of things. There wasn't swearing or sex or anything (to be clear, I don't believe a novel has to feature that to be considered well-written), but it was relatable.
Aside from that, I do not read Christian fiction at all. I apologize to my brothers and sisters who write it. I know you have an audience and I know you are good writers. It's just not my bag, in the same way that though Tolkien was an amazing author, The Return of the King kept me in a semi-vegetative state while I tried to get through it.
I went far afield, but here is some of what I was trying to say.
First, I now (in large part due to Carol's encouragement) consider myself gifted. I may not understand discrete equations and calculus, my grasp on physics may be tenuous at best, but that does not negate the true talent I have.
I love to crochet and for a long time, I hesitated to share my work with people. I have acquaintances who crochet and who have been doing it for a lot longer. I was ashamed of my work because I thought it was inferior to theirs.
Here's the thing. The things I crochet have been well-received. I have improved from when I started. I now receive compliments on my work. That doesn't mean the others aren't also talented. Me crafting beautiful things, be it in the written word or in yarn, isn't negated by what someone else creates. It's not an all-or-nothing proposition.
Second, I feel very strongly that evaluating writing as good or bad is very subjective. Everyone is different and has different tastes. This is why there are so many authors. This is why there are millions of different books and genres and types of fiction.
I have been in the process of writing a novel. I stalled out a couple of years ago. I developed a lot of self-doubt. Someone asked me what genre it was. Someone else asked me another question about it. I allowed those questions, which weren't bad questions, but I allowed those questions to take all of the wind out of my sails.
This is day number eight of my current writing streak. Every day that I write, I get new confidence in my abilities and I feel myself getting more empowered. I still am not sure what genre the novel is and whether or not a traditional publisher will every be interested. I have no idea if it will make money or change the trajectory of my family. I do know, however, that every day it lies dormant, I make myself vulnerable to believe the lies I tell myself.
I need to dust off the Google doc and get on with it. Stay tuned.
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