May 3
I'm barely surviving. Mother's Day crafts (card, letter--"I love my mom because...", and cover for the gift envelope) are done. Now I just have to shrink those silhouettes (twice) and cut twenty of them out, stick them onto card stock and voilá, I am done. Except for the bit where there is that little matter of Open House on Thursday night.
And the classroom looks trashed, where trashed = well used. Mostly I've got to sort through all the books I've read in the past couple of weeks, sort them back into their topics (zoo and farm) and get them back onto the bookshelves. A thorough dusting, moving the new math materials I am supposed to test on my little guinea pigs (and why the HELL do math programs come with umpteen yards of cardboard packaging these days? The display unit is 4'x 1.5' x 2.5'. Do you have idea of that footprint takes up in a classroom? I thought not! Lose it, book manufacturers. You could squeeze this stuff in a nice little box, like you did with the box of workbooks, and I would be MUCH HAPPIER. Although I must thank you for the set of wheels if you're going to insist on creating huge displays.) There is table washing (although we have gluing this week, so I won't be getting that done until Thursday) and a ton more besides. I'm tired just thinking about it all.
Writing progresses slowly. I have a couple hundred words for this week and tweaking on a short story, prompted by comments from a friend. If only I can make them work.
The novel hasn't been proceeding nearly as much, but that's today's effort. I will have a viable chapter by tonight or die in the attempt.
I'm trying to figure out why I'm hesitating so much on the novel, and the only thing I can come up with is that the plot is growing by leaps and bounds, I'll have to incorporate the new stuff into the old stuff and make it coherent, and in addition, lose some that doesn't fit this time around.
What I need is a plotting chart so I can steer this ship (which has far more in common with a garbage scow than anything sleek that's raced in the America's Cup) on course.
Yeah, right now, I'm being blown about by the winds of imagination.
Thankfully, I'm home for most of the day, barring two masses to sing. And while there's housework, I think I can whip the family into a frenzy to accomplish said housework. That is, if they're all home. I'm always the last to find out.
And in other news, I have music. I surfed Borders yesterday afternoon, listening to snippets of stuff, and came home with a Carrie Newcomer CD, then downloaded Little Bird by Annie Lennox, which I adore, and another by Beth Nielsen Chapman.
Color me happy.
May 10
Survived the week from hell. Yay, me.
I organized the classroom in a frenzy all day Thursday. Then I went the entire hour of Open House at the same pace. Eighteen families showed up, and most of them wanted some talking time with me. One of my favorite conversations involved one particular student's propensity for keeping a Spiderman mask in his pocket. For Just in Case.
I have yet to see this pocket savior in action, but imagine my relief at knowing I can point to him, announce, "Mask!", and the day will be saved.
Yesterday was all about finishing up the bits of Mother's Day gifts and packaging them up for home. Mission accomplished. I also managed to finish all the testing (every three weeks whether you need it or not), a bit of work on the pink and blue cards (we pass those up to next year's teachers so they have a hint of what's coming), and the homework for Monday. Yay me, redux.
But the frenzy had to end some time, however. My time was up once I hit home.
So last night, I was in bed by 7:30P and didn't budge until 7A. Even the dogs let me sleep, which is astonishing. I'm sure they won't repeat that performance tomorrow morning when it would really count.
Today, I've got energy, again, but not enough coffee. Another pot and I will be good to go. We are doing frenzied house wrestling today, for tomorrow I don't do anything I don't want to do.
There's a brunch, I know for certain, and the prospects of Iron Man (for which my middle child high-fived me), and whatever free bits I find are dedicated to Ideomancer
Mostly, I'm grateful I'm home. There are no little voices calling my name (Teacher! Teacher!) or fingers patting me.
But I have dog licks. And fuzzy clumps of Zoey hair floating about.
May 17
Another week has flown past. I was there. I lived through it.
You'd think I'd remember.
But it's smothered by the haze of a miserable cold and a touch of bronchitis/asthma (swiftly controlled by my inhaler, and why didn't I notice that weight on my chest until it magically lifted fifteen minutes later?)
I am behind on most everything except school, which was the only pin I could keep in the air. Barely.
In the few minutes I wasn't sleeping, I fixated on a query letter for Paper Crane, and due to sheer pigheadedness--and Jodi's magical touch--got that pulled together. Next stop? The post office.
With much trepidation and hope.
The trepidation arrived as a side to my research. Apparently, there's redundancy in picture books, and it occurs when the images and words mirror each other too closely.
Who knew?
All these years of reading picture books and I hadn't picked up on that. Now I'll have to investigate.
The good news is that should a miracle happen, I have another picture book in mind--or at least a character, who could very well be multiple books, provided I can find plots for him. I don't know his name for certain, although Josh sounds about right, and you'll never guess where I got the idea.
Riiiiiiiiiiight. (I must say it helps to have inspiration right under my fingertips. So to speak.)
So now it's off to the Ideomancer mines. Because school and being knocked off my feet by marauding cold germs has set me back. By about two weeks.
I hope to catch up on the new issue by the end of the weekend.
May 18
There are no words. None.
Oh, there are these, I suppose. And there will be crit words next.
But for yesterday?
Zip.
However, I do have six Ideo icons, which decided to take forever. I have one story ready for proofing, with two additional stories and three poems left. I may be writing a single book review (because I am not Sean, d'oh, and Leah guess which book? You can tell Michelle as soon as I touch base with Sean to make certain), and ohbytheway, there is a rumor about the house (strangely not corroborated by the child himself) that the middle son (the responsible, pragmatic one) and his girlfriend bought a ring.
Thankfully, the zoo was there to pat me when I got that news, and while there was no alcohol (because another child drank all the beer, dagnabit, and then left to climb mountains) there was chocolate in the form of cookies and ice cream to soothe the immediate shock. For lo, I am so not ready to have a married child. This mother is hoping for a long engagement. Looooooong--like two years long. And grandchildren are not acceptable until I hit sixty, so I have a few years.
Brunch this morning was mentioned by said child, so I imagine I will get the official word then, and be able to greet it with aplomb. Or something akin to that.
It's not pretty when one's jaw drops.
In the meantime, I must pretend I am blithely unaware, which is made easier currently, because said child got home after I went to bed, and is still in bed himself.
God grant me talent.
Finally, I packed up the query and manuscript for "Paper Crane" and sent it off to an imprint of Scholastic. The waiting begins, but that's so much better than the obsessive tweaking of a query that it's a relief.
Four to six weeks. We'll see.
But new worries have surfaced. Silly things, like ohmygod, I have to finish the new website, because this old one just sucks and it's the first hit on Google.
Ah well, I've got to obsess about something. Might as well be these as opposed to future weddings.
May 19/0 words
I'm confused.
The rumor of impending ring of younger son (passed on by the Spousling two days after he overheard a conversation by my own personal action hero--aka monkey boy, who ran off to climb mountains) has not crystallized.
Sure, we had everyone here for brunch, including girlfriend and mother yesterday. But the girlfriend was ringless. And no one said a thing.
Nada.
My god. You'd think everyone in this family was Danish or something. Talk about sealed lips.
So now the quandry is--do I confront younger son and ask, because otherwise I will be the last to know in their efforts to censor information coming my way, or do I let it slide, because they figure I know since monkey boy blew the secret?
I'll mull over that today.
Pay no attention to that crowbar behind my back. It's just my tool of choice for prying mouths open.
The Ideo count now includes an additional poem. Chatting with my crit group and analzying Derek's latest chapter took an hour or so, and I had to force myself to accomplish that.
But in the middle of it all, I apparently landed a very logical statement which pleased me (because although I'm quite logical when it comes to math, I am less logical when it comes to anything requiring verbal skills.)
The line: The important thing in the chapter is getting X to take that test. Anything that prevents or slows her down is worthwhile writing (and therefore, reading) about.
The more I stare at that line, the more obvious it is. But based on a read of that, it's a great tool to use in rewriting.
It was quite easy to look at another's chapter and tick off: this stays, this stays, this doesn't do anything for me, and rewrite.
Need a longer chapter once you've gotten it pared down? Throw more barriers in your characters' ways.
D'oh. But it feels as though I just verbalized something I'd had a sense of but hadn't been able to articulate until last night.
Gosh, I love crit groups.
May 26/0 words
Another week, another... well, week.
Puppets reared their ugly heads this week, demanding to be sewn. They have noses and mouth, but no eyes to stare accusingly at me since I'm a week behind on the puppet timeline. They'll be ready to be sewn by volunteers (this year, a child volunteered his grandmother, and since she just happens to be my ex-principal and ex-assistant superintendent, I'm not asking permission. I'm just sending them home. *veg*) tomorrow.
I'm currently recovering from the nephew's wedding (successful!) and overnights in beds not mine. I brought home the pillow I'd left the last time (Aawww, pillow! How much I've missed you!) but forgot the dress in the closet. Mom has squished that into a padded envelope to send. (Gotta love those travel-proof fabrics.) Overall, I had a great time. All five of my siblings (and assorted spouses) attended, and the last time we were all together was just before Dad died. This was a far more joyful occasion and Mom brought Dad along in the form of a necklace--his last birthday gift to her.
Plus, as Mom and I headed up the church steps prior to the wedding, we found a sign of Dad's presence--a cigarette stub on the path. (Okay, so technically, it should have five or six stubs, but we were willing to cut him some slack seeing how few cigarettes you find in the afterlife.)
Thankfully, my middle brother made it with less than a minute to spare, although I considered offering odds that he wouldn't show until the wedding was over to any sibling ready to fork up the money.
My youngest sister appeared un-nauseous, a minor miracle granted to her by Beelzebump--their current term for baby. My hugely pregnant niece did not go into labor during the wedding or the reception after. The younger niece and nephew fulfilled their roles as flower girl and flower girl escort perfectly. The reception was lovely, the filets they served amazingly good, and the music loud but danceable.
Yeah, I still missed Wiscon, but only a bit. The fact that we were all together helped significantly.
We will repeat this in October at the next nephew's wedding.
Note: I still know nothing about the middle child's ring-purchasing. He's in Denver currently at a training for running scout camps. I don't expect to learn anything more unless I get the oldest child drunk and chatting.
Sadly, that has appeal.
This is how low I will stoop for information. *sniff*
Addendum: Oh. And a note for those who haven't experienced this...
When a Spousling calls to say, "Do you want the good news or the bad news first?", the correct answer is bad news, because being told that the garage didn't burn down is not specific enough, since I can add the tag but the house did.
On the other hand, knowing that the specific object to burn was the VW bug, and that the engine fire was caused by the Spousling's forgetting to connect the gas line to the carburetor the last time he reinstalled it was.
Crazed paint and the mess the Spousling had to clean up after employing a fire extinguisher does not disturb me nearly so much.
P.S. The bug runs nicely, thank you.
P.P.S. I will strongly suggest that it is now time to hire a mechanic.
