31
July

Which way did it go?

The good news: there are two kinds of pie baking in my house at this moment–apple and egg custard. I did not make either. Go, me!

The bad news: Some of us who have given up wheat products won’t be having any. *sniff*

The good news: After a horrible week of not getting the concept of focusing your voice and squillo, I finally nailed it on Sunday.

The bad news: I agreed to sing (and be critiqued) in front of the entire large choir. I have no idea what whacked me upside the head and made me decide this was a good idea. (On the other hand, this year is all about confronting my fears. So.)

The good news: The garden’s producing well and looking great.

The bad news: I’m going back to school tomorrow to set up. I’m going to need all three weeks with 33 incoming kinders.

The good news: The latest draft of the novel is coming along.

The bad news: I have to work on its sequel’s outline and get it roughed out by Saturday night for critiquing and brainstorming.

The good news: I’ve got the dog walking three miles now.

The bad news: It takes us sixty-five minutes what with all the sniffing and scent-marking.

Now if I could only figure out where my summer went. If you’ve seen it, let me know.

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24
July

Adventures on the 405 and environs

As usual, the freeway is in process. They’re widening it in the pass between the 101 and Sunset Blvd. They could be widening it further down, too, but hey, I was grateful to get off on Sunset.

Or I was. Until I realized they were messing with those on- and off-ramps, too. Enough so that I turned right instead of left like I should have. And then I was stuck in a line of traffic winding its way under the freeway overpass and onto the freeway on-ramp that returned north.

At a crawl.

Which meant that the line I was in took ten or twelve stoplight sequences to get onto Sepulveda. And then I realized with horror that I had to get out of the left lane to turn around, because oh, no! I was not heading north in all that mess!

Turn around accomplished. Now I was only ten minutes late to camp.

Fine.

I zipped back to Sunset (completely discombobulated by the construction and certain I did not want to go there) and beyond. The road led back under the freeway and onto Sepulveda again. Many streets later I realized I was at Wilshire. Too far. When I hit Santa Monica Blvd, the right turn lane to the freeway was packed. I did not make it across Santa Monica Blvd. for seven extremely loooooooooong lights. However, it did give me the chance to call camp and find an alternate route.

Once somebody answered the phone, that is.

So I turned at the next major intersection that had an underpass, zoomed down the road to a street I knew would go through to Santa Monica Blvd., zipped down Santa Monica Blvd. to 26th, and made my way back to Sunset.

Getting to camp was a breeze after all that. It only took me an additional fifteen minutes.

Sadly, the entire part where I avoided the whole freeway thing? An additional hour.

The return home took two hours: fifteen minutes to the detour freeway on-ramp, thirty minutes on the 101, and an hour-plus from Sunset to the 101–a distance of approximately seven miles.

Let us not mention the several motorcyclists with death wishes, including the guy who would wave his hand at drivers to make room for him to pass.

Last I saw, he still had a hand.

But this is why I so rarely drive in LA and avoid the 405. It can be 3A, and that so-called freeway will be bumper to bumper at a near standstill.

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21
July

Hit the road, Jack

So far this morning, I have walked, worked on the pool and in the garden, cleaned the kitchen, and I’m just about ready to hit the gym.

The list of what I haven’t done stretches to the floor. I suddenly remember one more thing and one more. The latest is the recommendation for a friend that I was supposed to write earlier in the week. It sucks to be on the receiving end of a pink slip, again! in this job market for educators. And I thought it was bad when I first began teaching when the ratio of applicants to job was 400:1–at least the job stuck around once you got it.

Nowadays, you’re vulnerable to layoffs with seven years in the same district.

Writing? Nothing physical yet. Mostly spinning plot ideas in my head, and how I’m going to fix the bits of this novel and fill in those holes.

I’m all alone this weekend–the Daughter ran up to camp to surprise a friend for his birthday; the Spouse is at a completely different camp in the Pacific Palisades hills. Really, you would not believe there could be an undeveloped area like this location anywhere near these outrageously expensive homes, but the road to camp dips into a canyon which borders the Topanga State Park.

Two days of quiet.

And Harley–so it won’t be as quiet as it could be.

I’m ready to head back to school–I ended up at Lakeshore yesterday. There will be at least one more trip before school starts for laminating purposes. As it is, I’ll be working on lesson plans for the first month in the hopes that will make the lesson plans I have to turn in a little easier. We will see.

But for now, the motto is too much to do and not enough time.

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18
July

In which children (and novels) are out to get me

The writing hasn’t gone as smoothly this year as I’d hoped. I’ve been derailed many times by stuff that absolutely needed to get done right now today or the dreaded laziness that loves to ambush me over the summers.

But I had to write this weekend–it was my turn for Posse rending. Which, amazingly enough, wasn’t too bad.

However, the fact that it was the end of the first draft was bad.

Now I am in the midst of writing the fourth draft (because if you don’t finish the second and third drafts completely, you get to skip ahead) and that’s going okay. The first fifty actually look very good. I just need to finish the damn thing.

But the question (and horror) in my soul is: OMG, what will I send them in two weeks? Because I’ve got to have something other than the novel. And I’m not sure I’m ready to craft the outline for the sequel. (And, of course, the Posse members pointed out that Mareet will get her worst nightmare in this one, and I screamed noooooooooo! at the thought, which probably means I should DO IT. Dagnabit. I hate it when they’re right.)

So yeah. There might be novel outlining in the next two weeks. *shudder*

I also became aware of some more holes in that first draft that I’m going to have to fill. Bummer.

Voice is coming along–we’re working on focus this week, and I can finally say I’m truly aware of singing in the mask. My head voice is a higher placement than ever before, and I’m hoping that’s as high as I have to go–I’m thinking outside my skull as it is to get it there. I’m looking forward to an actual choir rehearsal tonight–it’s been five weeks since I’ve sung with the big group and I’ve missed it.

Yesterday was our anniversary (36! How did that happen?) and, as usual, the Spouse was at a Scout camp with a couple hundred boys. I celebrated with a pedicure. Each to his or her own, but I think I win.

In other celebrations, the Eldest turns 30 next month and there are family camping plans afoot. I should be grateful it’s not family climbing plans. It could have been a cozy family parachuting or bungee jumping outing. The Daughter brought up how she’d like to get a motor scooter for her next vehicle and I totally spooked. It’s bad enough the Eldest zooms around on his second–because he wiped out in a parking lot on the first, and while he survived, the scooter didn’t.

Really, I don’t know how these children are mine. I would complain, but I carried each of them for nine months, so I’m culpable in some ways. I have no idea why they don’t have my common sense. (Which basically says if you don’t try some of these dangerous tricks, you can’t die. The Eldest still wants to ski Chile (and I’m sure it’s backcountry with the accompanying threat of avalanches); all I’d like to do is get to the Atacama Desert for stargazing. Which of us is more likely to survive?)

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14
July

This is how it ends, isn’t it?

Unidentified daughter from the other room: Hey, when you guys die, can I have the pencil sharpener?
Me, doubletaking: Did you just say what I thought you said?
UDFTOR: Probably. But I really want it.

Mind you, this is a pencil sharpener I would toss in a heartbeat, even if you can make it stick to a stovetop with that little lever.

I’m home. I’m alive and catching up with everything that didn’t get done while I was gone.

Maybe not the writing, though. I’m still sorting through piles of school stuff and making lists of what I have to do for myself and another person on my team who has never taught K before. Oh, and finishing up typing the K-5 writing rubrics for the district. We met two days ago.

And no, believe it or not, vacation hasn’t ended–even though I bought out all the reusable writing pockets at Target.

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2
July

Too much to do and not enough time

Yes, I’m already running this morning, although I didn’t get started until 6:30A–a bit later than I’d wanted. I’m still running laundry for the trip to Mom’s and the weekend at Camp Whitsett so I can pack.

Camp weekends happen when the family decides to rotate once-a-month dinner get-togethers and the middle child’s responsibility just happens to come in July.

I made him promise me a real bed. Because camping out with 300 Boy Scouts? Nope. Not happening.

Harley is supposedly having a blast at camp. That would be the result of the raccoon under the floor in the middle child’s house that scratches at precisely 1A, 2A, and 3A. Harley is scratching back. And scarfing up whatever is dropped on the ground in the outdoor dining hall.

The daughter has taken on a sewing project. She has little or no patience with sewing, so this has been stressful. She’s cut things the wrong length (yes, you can make a skirt without a pattern–but should an inexperienced seamstress? Really? I blame Pinterest.), she’s had to make two extra runs to JoAnn’s for more lace. Twice. She’s ripped out stuff multiple times. She’s sewn through the side of her finger. Again.

I walked past my machine as she was roundly cursing it, sat down and tried to sew the seam she wanted sewn, and realized as soon as I heard it, I realized I had no idea when it had last been oiled. My daughter-in-law has done at least two quilts on it, and there’ve been other sewing projects on the part of my daughter. I’ve only sewn to mend a few things or when she begs for help.

One drop of oil later, it was sewing smoothly and things settled down.

This morning, the skirt is nearly done. I’m sure she can wrap it up tonight. She was anxious because I am leaving and who would she call for emergency sewing questions? The one possibility was not possible because the skirt is a gift for her.

Needless to say, I’ve been keeping my head low trying to stay far, far away from the project. She won’t learn if I have to bail her out, and seriously, I want her to learn. I just have to make sure I teach her how to oil the Bernina and she does that after every project.

Writing? Yeah. Not enough words. Not enough time spent butt in chair. There’s a garden and walking and enough stuff around her to keep me otherwise employed for hours.

But hey, a vacation is always good.

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