Good evening gentle ladies and kind sirs. Tonight I would like to tell thee about my venture to King Richard's Faire in Carver, MA.
Don't worry, that's as far as I care to take the Old English. :)
This was my first time at any Renaissance Fair, and it was a blast. Not only were the costumes great (and a number of people who didn't work there were all dolled up), but the scenery was a lot of fun. It's in the middle of the woods with a number of different stores set up around the edge of the whole faire. In the middle are food vendors (complete with large turkey legs), rides mostly operated by cranks or swinging objects, and games including axe and knife throwing. We viewed a variety of mini shows throughout the day, and came back to watch jousting matches in-between. We ended our trip with an awesome tiger show (I love tigers) that included a liger. And there was no cage around the stage either. In fact, one of the rules was that no children were allowed to sit in the first three rows. (Screw the adults I guess). :) Actually, the guy running the show said it was a way to keep kids from getting too excited near the stage.
"Unless you don't want your kids going home with you after the show," he said with a grin.
The mini shows were a lot of fun. We listened to a three-man band play the song "Desdimona," a Renaissance rendition of the Knack song "My Sharona," and a roaming chorus finish off a set of classical music playing kazoos. We came across one dom with mad whipping skills, who used her whip to rip up pieces of paper held by her cohorts. At one point she brought a man from the audience onto the stage and placed a piece of celery between his legs. She then proceeded to use the whip to whittle down the celery piece by piece. He was very brave. :) They finished off their set by doing acrobatics with two long ribbons that hung in the air from three rods.
And then there was the jousting match. We watched the first show, where they had four knights on horses do various tricks with their lances, including popping balloons and spearing rings held by their squires. They then held a jousting match, which ended with a second match called so King Richard could attend. For the second match, our knight to root for was from England, riding with the colors red and green. That jousting match ended with another knight cheating and cutting our knight with his sword. They began fighting and the king announced they would have a final duel to determine the winner- a joust to the death. (Dun dun dun!).
But we didn't stay for that last one. :)
The last show we watched was the tiger show (did I mention I love tigers?). They had tiger cubs and a couple different varieties of tigers, including Bengal tigers, a snow white tiger, and a liger. The liger, Hercules, was so cool. He weighs over 900 pounds and has a very distinct lion-like head with tiger features. He could have swallowed one of the kids past the third row whole. But on stage he was a sweetheart, drinking the vitamin D milk they give them out of a bottle, and even catching a long stream of it in his mouth from one of the trainers standing a few feet away (adorable!). They also had him stand up, using a piece of meat on a stick, to show just how ridiculously long he is. Hercules indeed. I got some great pictures.
So all in all it was a great day. Beautiful weather, new atmosphere, fun things to see and do, what more could you ask for?
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Responsibility is a 4 Letter Word
It really sucks to be an adult sometimes.
Last Saturday, Fred threw up. No big deal. She's on medication for hyperthyroidism, and puking can be one of the side effects. It's happened before, plus she had just eaten a big plate of treats, so I didn't think anything of it.
But when she didn't want to eat on Sunday, I became a bit worried. She still drank water but couldn't keep any of it down. By Sunday night she was failing.
I woke up on Monday and called my vet. Unfortunately she was on vacation until the next day, but they told me to take Fred to Tufts if she couldn't make it much longer. By that afternoon she could barely walk. It was time.
I was at work by then, so our neighbor drove C and Fred to Tufts in Grafton. They admitted her (by the way, it's $128 just to walk in the door. That information will factor in later) and started her on an IV after taking some blood. They did a chemical panel and later discovered she had a fever. They also pushed on her middle and saw that she cringed while only pushing on one of her kidneys. So without doing an extensive list of tests that would've cost over $1,000, they decided to start her on antibiotics for a kidney infection.
The whole time, C is calling me at work throughout the night, giving me updates on her condition and what the cost of further tests would be. He told the vet I was definitely strapped for cash, and they tried to work with the results they had already obtained. We decided to wait and see if the antibiotics worked overnight before going any further.
I went to visit her that night after work, and she barely lifted her head. Her back was to the cage door and she looked tired. But after talking to her for a couple of minutes, she gingerly stood up and allowed me to pet her before laying back down for the night. I was relieved that she was in a medical facility, but of course it pained me to see her in a cage with the IV.
The next morning they called to tell me that she did all right overnight, and that her fever was gone. She was even eating a little bit which was a good sign. But they felt something hard in her stomach, like her intestinal walls were thicker, and suggested an ultrasound. They also discovered from the chemical panel her liver levels were off, which could point to liver failure. This information led them to believe that she could have something as serious as lymphoma.
Lymphoma?
That brought on a whole set of new concerns, concerns that, on my budget, would be impossible to satisfy. Cancer treatments imply chemotherapy, and who knows if that would even improve her life? Extending it is one thing, but if it was only to be time spent undergoing treatment, that's no life at all, for any living being.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound cost $250, and the vet said if it didn't show anything they'd still have to take more blood to determine a more definitive cause. Since I had already spent $120 for one overnight stay, and they wanted to keep her for another night, I had to forgo the ultrasound and stick with the bloodwork.
All day I tried not to think about the possibility that I may have to put my Freddie down. I've had her for seven years of her sixteen on Earth, and this was the first time that idea even presented itself. I've been lucky in that she's been a really healthy cat for most of the time I've had her. And now that her old age is finally showing, I may have a tough decision to make.
All this while having to keep up a modicum of professionalism. It was not a good day.
Thankfully, the results of the bloodwork came in that night while I was at work. They said her liver values were back to normal, and she was doing much better with the eating and drinking. They decided it was the kidney infection that snowballed into all of her other symptoms, guessing she was septic by the time we brought her in. No ultrasound combined with her progress allowed me to bring her home the next day, with two different kinds of antibiotics and the suggestion for an antacid. The cancer idea was off the table for now, so long as we kept an eye on her and had her blood checked again in another month.
I picked her up the next day, just beaming from ear to ear. She looked much better and even meowed while in her carrier, a sign that she was getting back to normal. (She really hates that thing, and will meow like she's going through the Spanish Inquisition the whole time she's in it. It really adds to the fun of bringing her to the vet, or ANYWHERE). :)
Now it's just a matter of force-feeding pink liquid medicine down her throat (and you know all animals just love that!) while trying not to spray it all over her face, and paws, and any other body part she will try to put in the way of her and the applicator. She looks like a Pepto Bismol junkie, with tiny pink spots all mashed into her fur. And we get to continue this fine tradition for a month- yay.
But I'll take it for even just one more day with my feline best friend.
I can't imagine what I would've done if the results of this hospital trip had turned out differently. As it is, I spent about $800 to bring her out of this situation alive and well. Who knows what will happen if she becomes sick again. It's just too much of an adult decision for me to ever want to think about again.
But I will have to eventually, as all adults do, with nothing but responsibility as my guide. And that brings no comfort at all.
Last Saturday, Fred threw up. No big deal. She's on medication for hyperthyroidism, and puking can be one of the side effects. It's happened before, plus she had just eaten a big plate of treats, so I didn't think anything of it.
But when she didn't want to eat on Sunday, I became a bit worried. She still drank water but couldn't keep any of it down. By Sunday night she was failing.
I woke up on Monday and called my vet. Unfortunately she was on vacation until the next day, but they told me to take Fred to Tufts if she couldn't make it much longer. By that afternoon she could barely walk. It was time.
I was at work by then, so our neighbor drove C and Fred to Tufts in Grafton. They admitted her (by the way, it's $128 just to walk in the door. That information will factor in later) and started her on an IV after taking some blood. They did a chemical panel and later discovered she had a fever. They also pushed on her middle and saw that she cringed while only pushing on one of her kidneys. So without doing an extensive list of tests that would've cost over $1,000, they decided to start her on antibiotics for a kidney infection.
The whole time, C is calling me at work throughout the night, giving me updates on her condition and what the cost of further tests would be. He told the vet I was definitely strapped for cash, and they tried to work with the results they had already obtained. We decided to wait and see if the antibiotics worked overnight before going any further.
I went to visit her that night after work, and she barely lifted her head. Her back was to the cage door and she looked tired. But after talking to her for a couple of minutes, she gingerly stood up and allowed me to pet her before laying back down for the night. I was relieved that she was in a medical facility, but of course it pained me to see her in a cage with the IV.
The next morning they called to tell me that she did all right overnight, and that her fever was gone. She was even eating a little bit which was a good sign. But they felt something hard in her stomach, like her intestinal walls were thicker, and suggested an ultrasound. They also discovered from the chemical panel her liver levels were off, which could point to liver failure. This information led them to believe that she could have something as serious as lymphoma.
Lymphoma?
That brought on a whole set of new concerns, concerns that, on my budget, would be impossible to satisfy. Cancer treatments imply chemotherapy, and who knows if that would even improve her life? Extending it is one thing, but if it was only to be time spent undergoing treatment, that's no life at all, for any living being.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound cost $250, and the vet said if it didn't show anything they'd still have to take more blood to determine a more definitive cause. Since I had already spent $120 for one overnight stay, and they wanted to keep her for another night, I had to forgo the ultrasound and stick with the bloodwork.
All day I tried not to think about the possibility that I may have to put my Freddie down. I've had her for seven years of her sixteen on Earth, and this was the first time that idea even presented itself. I've been lucky in that she's been a really healthy cat for most of the time I've had her. And now that her old age is finally showing, I may have a tough decision to make.
All this while having to keep up a modicum of professionalism. It was not a good day.
Thankfully, the results of the bloodwork came in that night while I was at work. They said her liver values were back to normal, and she was doing much better with the eating and drinking. They decided it was the kidney infection that snowballed into all of her other symptoms, guessing she was septic by the time we brought her in. No ultrasound combined with her progress allowed me to bring her home the next day, with two different kinds of antibiotics and the suggestion for an antacid. The cancer idea was off the table for now, so long as we kept an eye on her and had her blood checked again in another month.
I picked her up the next day, just beaming from ear to ear. She looked much better and even meowed while in her carrier, a sign that she was getting back to normal. (She really hates that thing, and will meow like she's going through the Spanish Inquisition the whole time she's in it. It really adds to the fun of bringing her to the vet, or ANYWHERE). :)
Now it's just a matter of force-feeding pink liquid medicine down her throat (and you know all animals just love that!) while trying not to spray it all over her face, and paws, and any other body part she will try to put in the way of her and the applicator. She looks like a Pepto Bismol junkie, with tiny pink spots all mashed into her fur. And we get to continue this fine tradition for a month- yay.
But I'll take it for even just one more day with my feline best friend.
I can't imagine what I would've done if the results of this hospital trip had turned out differently. As it is, I spent about $800 to bring her out of this situation alive and well. Who knows what will happen if she becomes sick again. It's just too much of an adult decision for me to ever want to think about again.
But I will have to eventually, as all adults do, with nothing but responsibility as my guide. And that brings no comfort at all.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
I'm F#ckin Old
You know you're getting old when conversations with friends (or co-workers) go something like this.
"So, I was flipping through channels the other day and I came across the MTV Video Music Awards."
"I remember when all they played on MTV was videos. Now all I see are shows about teens in the 'real world,' none of which I ever encountered when I was that age."
"Anyway, it was hosted by some punk guy I didn't recognize."
"Oh yeah, he's in some band I think."
"Oh, that makes sense. He was wearing ridiculously tight black pants with spiky hair and lots of make-up. He really wasn't that funny either"
"Did you see that one singer, Re-hanna, Re-anna..."
"Re-ahna?"
"I guess so. Her pants looked like they were painted on. And she was wearing heels, no lie, that looked about eight inches high."
"How does anyone function in those shoes?"
"No idea."
"These are great role models for kids. Look like a slut and make it in the music business."
"Well, there are the Jonas Brothers with their virtue rings."
"Who are the Jonas Brothers?"
"Some boy band. They look about 15."
"Well geez, I hope they're still virgins at 15!"
"Remember when Jessica Simpson claimed she was a virgin? That didn't last long."
"But that was years ago before she got married. At least she waited that long."
"Yeah, and she was what? 23 or something?"
"I think so. That's a long time to wait in this day and age."
"No kidding. There are a number of famous teens right now having babies. Can you imagine? And I don't know any teen pregnancies that end up like in Juno. Or even Knocked Up."
"Yeah, but those are just movies, and comedies at that. They're obviously overdone to be funny. And I would hope people would recognize that."
"Older, wiser people, yes. Hormonal teenagers, not so much."
"Did I tell you a group of teenagers threw a rock at my car the other day?"
"Seriously?"
"Yup. Never mind the damage to my car, someone could get hurt."
"Damn punk kids."
We're calling teenagers punk kids.
I remember being a high school kid. I remember being a college student. But I don't remember making the transition from being one of those things to complaining about them.
At least I'm not calling them whipper-snappers yet. :)
"So, I was flipping through channels the other day and I came across the MTV Video Music Awards."
"I remember when all they played on MTV was videos. Now all I see are shows about teens in the 'real world,' none of which I ever encountered when I was that age."
"Anyway, it was hosted by some punk guy I didn't recognize."
"Oh yeah, he's in some band I think."
"Oh, that makes sense. He was wearing ridiculously tight black pants with spiky hair and lots of make-up. He really wasn't that funny either"
"Did you see that one singer, Re-hanna, Re-anna..."
"Re-ahna?"
"I guess so. Her pants looked like they were painted on. And she was wearing heels, no lie, that looked about eight inches high."
"How does anyone function in those shoes?"
"No idea."
"These are great role models for kids. Look like a slut and make it in the music business."
"Well, there are the Jonas Brothers with their virtue rings."
"Who are the Jonas Brothers?"
"Some boy band. They look about 15."
"Well geez, I hope they're still virgins at 15!"
"Remember when Jessica Simpson claimed she was a virgin? That didn't last long."
"But that was years ago before she got married. At least she waited that long."
"Yeah, and she was what? 23 or something?"
"I think so. That's a long time to wait in this day and age."
"No kidding. There are a number of famous teens right now having babies. Can you imagine? And I don't know any teen pregnancies that end up like in Juno. Or even Knocked Up."
"Yeah, but those are just movies, and comedies at that. They're obviously overdone to be funny. And I would hope people would recognize that."
"Older, wiser people, yes. Hormonal teenagers, not so much."
"Did I tell you a group of teenagers threw a rock at my car the other day?"
"Seriously?"
"Yup. Never mind the damage to my car, someone could get hurt."
"Damn punk kids."
We're calling teenagers punk kids.
I remember being a high school kid. I remember being a college student. But I don't remember making the transition from being one of those things to complaining about them.
At least I'm not calling them whipper-snappers yet. :)
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Mosquitoes and Those Who Hate Them
For some reason, mosquitoes love me. Often times I will stand next to C, who is 6'8, and he'll come away with one or two bites, while I'll have 27. And that's not really an exaggeration either. We were at a barbecue a couple of weeks ago, when I noticed a huge bug bite on my leg after being outside for an hour. I asked for some bug spray and sprayed my arms, legs, and feet. I knew my hands might get one or two more, and maybe my neck if I wasn't paying attention. But for the most part, I thought I was safe.
Thought is the operative word there. The next day, I woke up with 22 bites. C, I believe, had less than a handful, and he never even put on bug spray. Bastard. :)
And this past weekend, we went to his mom's house and sat out on the back deck for less than 15 minutes, and I came away with eight bites, all on my feet. Again, C came away with none.
I was even in bed one night, covers up to my neck, when I felt something land on my eyebrow. I brushed it away and felt something sticky on my finger. Sure enough, when I turned on the light I saw a squished mosquito on my hand. In my own bedroom! ARGH!
I'm surprised I haven't died from malaria/West Nile/yellow fever.
I have no idea why mosquitoes are so attracted to me. One web site I went to said they are often attracted to men, those who are overweight, and those with Type O blood. I'm not particularly any one of those things, while C takes two out of three. It's just not fair.
I even have poor blood circulation. Whenever they have to take blood it often takes the nurse a good minute or so to find a vein. Apparently they should employ mosquitoes to do the job because they have no problem finding my blood.
My blood must be fairly sweet or at least giving off some kind of pleasant aroma that attracts those damn bugs because it never fails. Any time I'm outside, and not even for an extended period of time, I could just be walking to my car, I put myself in jeopardy of being attacked by one of those vicious predators. And, seriously, those red spots itch like a mo-fo! I finally got over the patchwork of bites I had from the barbecue, and the cycle has begun all over again. ARGH!
I should start a club: People Who Are Often Bitten by Mosquitoes and Are Sick of It!
Hmmm. I'll have to work on the name. :)
Thought is the operative word there. The next day, I woke up with 22 bites. C, I believe, had less than a handful, and he never even put on bug spray. Bastard. :)
And this past weekend, we went to his mom's house and sat out on the back deck for less than 15 minutes, and I came away with eight bites, all on my feet. Again, C came away with none.
I was even in bed one night, covers up to my neck, when I felt something land on my eyebrow. I brushed it away and felt something sticky on my finger. Sure enough, when I turned on the light I saw a squished mosquito on my hand. In my own bedroom! ARGH!
I'm surprised I haven't died from malaria/West Nile/yellow fever.
I have no idea why mosquitoes are so attracted to me. One web site I went to said they are often attracted to men, those who are overweight, and those with Type O blood. I'm not particularly any one of those things, while C takes two out of three. It's just not fair.
I even have poor blood circulation. Whenever they have to take blood it often takes the nurse a good minute or so to find a vein. Apparently they should employ mosquitoes to do the job because they have no problem finding my blood.
My blood must be fairly sweet or at least giving off some kind of pleasant aroma that attracts those damn bugs because it never fails. Any time I'm outside, and not even for an extended period of time, I could just be walking to my car, I put myself in jeopardy of being attacked by one of those vicious predators. And, seriously, those red spots itch like a mo-fo! I finally got over the patchwork of bites I had from the barbecue, and the cycle has begun all over again. ARGH!
I should start a club: People Who Are Often Bitten by Mosquitoes and Are Sick of It!
Hmmm. I'll have to work on the name. :)
Monday, September 1, 2008
Labor Day Weekend
Whew, what a weekend! Thank goodness it was three days long, because I needed the extra day to get some rest! :)
I worked six hours of overtime last week, which is a rare thing (I think it's only the second or third time this year I've gotten any extra hours). So when my supervisor asked if I wanted to get any more this weekend, I did think about it for a split second. But after such a long week, I was ready for three whole days off.
Saturday C and I went to my parents place for the day, and to hang out with my grandmother. She's going to be 89 in November and is struggling with her breathing, weight, and energy level. As a very active woman it's tough for her to be unable to do most of the things she enjoys. But many of our family still live in that area and visit her frequently, and of course she still watches the Red Sox. Nothing can stop her from doing that. :)
Anyway, we then had dinner at my parents place- delicious ham of which we got to take a few slices home (that'll be at least two days of dinner for work this short week.) We chatted about the upcoming election and how McCain chose an extremely conservative woman from Alaska to be his VP. My dad told us he heard a commentator say that McCain chose her because he realized how important the Eskimo vote would be in this election.
"Because he wasn't a comedian I wasn't expecting that, and I almost spit my food out," he said, as we all laughed.
After that the rest of the night was spent trying to keep my two nieces from destroying each other, along with my parents house. They both have the energy of a nuclear explosion, so putting them together just might cause one! :)
C and I came back home that night, since Sunday was his mom's birthday. We went over there for dinner (two free dinners- it was such a great weekend), and to play a game of Scrabble with C, his brother, his mom, and me. Usually I'm not much of a match for C or his mom (they've actively played Scrabble together for a long time) but I scored a come-from-behind victory to convince C that I wasn't letting his mom win on her birthday. It was my strategy all along. Really, it was. :)
That brings us to today, Monday, Labor Day, where we had absolutely no plans and haven't gone ANYWHERE. That's what the holiday's all about, right? And that's exactly how we planned to "celebrate."
I worked six hours of overtime last week, which is a rare thing (I think it's only the second or third time this year I've gotten any extra hours). So when my supervisor asked if I wanted to get any more this weekend, I did think about it for a split second. But after such a long week, I was ready for three whole days off.
Saturday C and I went to my parents place for the day, and to hang out with my grandmother. She's going to be 89 in November and is struggling with her breathing, weight, and energy level. As a very active woman it's tough for her to be unable to do most of the things she enjoys. But many of our family still live in that area and visit her frequently, and of course she still watches the Red Sox. Nothing can stop her from doing that. :)
Anyway, we then had dinner at my parents place- delicious ham of which we got to take a few slices home (that'll be at least two days of dinner for work this short week.) We chatted about the upcoming election and how McCain chose an extremely conservative woman from Alaska to be his VP. My dad told us he heard a commentator say that McCain chose her because he realized how important the Eskimo vote would be in this election.
"Because he wasn't a comedian I wasn't expecting that, and I almost spit my food out," he said, as we all laughed.
After that the rest of the night was spent trying to keep my two nieces from destroying each other, along with my parents house. They both have the energy of a nuclear explosion, so putting them together just might cause one! :)
C and I came back home that night, since Sunday was his mom's birthday. We went over there for dinner (two free dinners- it was such a great weekend), and to play a game of Scrabble with C, his brother, his mom, and me. Usually I'm not much of a match for C or his mom (they've actively played Scrabble together for a long time) but I scored a come-from-behind victory to convince C that I wasn't letting his mom win on her birthday. It was my strategy all along. Really, it was. :)
That brings us to today, Monday, Labor Day, where we had absolutely no plans and haven't gone ANYWHERE. That's what the holiday's all about, right? And that's exactly how we planned to "celebrate."
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Fred, the Patient
As you saw in my previous blog about my cat, Fred, she was just getting over a rash caused by medicine she was taking for her hyperthyroid condition. When it was finally healed, I called the vet's office to order a new prescription of the name brand stuff, Tapazole.
The vet had told me I could get the medicine from any pharmacy, since humans also use the drug for the same condition. So I told them to call the Rite Aid pharmacy where I get my prescriptions, to keep things fairly easy.
Well this morning, I stopped in to pick up the prescription before I went into work early, so I could put it in Fred's food before I left. She's taking a lesser dose, only 1/2 a pill a day, and I wanted to get her back on the meds as soon as possible. So I walked up to the counter and asked the pharmacist for a pick-up order for me. As she looked for the last name, she came across one bag with a confused look on her face. She came back to tell me they had a prescription on hold for a Fred (last name).
"Um, that would be my cat," I said, smiling.
"Ohhh," she said. "That would explain why we don't have a birth date for the patient."
Thankfully they were able to fill the prescription right away, once they got her "birth date" (I can only give them the month I got Fred and the year 1992 since she is now 16). But I thought it was very cute that the prescription was indeed in her name. It does say Cat next to her name though. :)
But the best part was the price. Normally, the medicine costs about $55, since unfortunately my job doesn't have an insurance plan that includes cats under family coverage. :) However, the pharmacist asked me if I had a AAA card. I told her yes, and it got me a discount of 50%. The total bill came to less than $26 total. Awesome.
So now Freddie is back on her medication and even has her own account at Rite Aid. They grow up so fast. :)
The vet had told me I could get the medicine from any pharmacy, since humans also use the drug for the same condition. So I told them to call the Rite Aid pharmacy where I get my prescriptions, to keep things fairly easy.
Well this morning, I stopped in to pick up the prescription before I went into work early, so I could put it in Fred's food before I left. She's taking a lesser dose, only 1/2 a pill a day, and I wanted to get her back on the meds as soon as possible. So I walked up to the counter and asked the pharmacist for a pick-up order for me. As she looked for the last name, she came across one bag with a confused look on her face. She came back to tell me they had a prescription on hold for a Fred (last name).
"Um, that would be my cat," I said, smiling.
"Ohhh," she said. "That would explain why we don't have a birth date for the patient."
Thankfully they were able to fill the prescription right away, once they got her "birth date" (I can only give them the month I got Fred and the year 1992 since she is now 16). But I thought it was very cute that the prescription was indeed in her name. It does say Cat next to her name though. :)
But the best part was the price. Normally, the medicine costs about $55, since unfortunately my job doesn't have an insurance plan that includes cats under family coverage. :) However, the pharmacist asked me if I had a AAA card. I told her yes, and it got me a discount of 50%. The total bill came to less than $26 total. Awesome.
So now Freddie is back on her medication and even has her own account at Rite Aid. They grow up so fast. :)
Saturday, August 23, 2008
No More Slacking Off
Boy, I've really been slacking. Five whole days with no new posts. I hope I'm not disappointing anyone. :)
On the up side, I have been working on my book a little bit, and I plan on continuing that trend over the weekend. C's brother, Z, is here for the weekend and they'll most likely be cracking out on gaming. So that pretty much leaves me to fend for myself in terms of finding stuff to do for the next two days. Fortunately though, I need that kind of nothingness to get my ass in gear and get some writing done! I'm excellent at taking random things and making them last ALL weekend, which is good to keep from getting bored, but bad when it distracts me from getting stuff done! But this time, the dishes are cleared, the laundry is done, and the Olympics will be over. Time to be productive.
When I graduated from college eight years ago, a bachelor's degree in English in hand, I wasn't sure where I was gonna go from there. I took the summer off to dog sit these two retired greyhounds who belonged to a fairly wealthy couple in Stockbridge. Their business gave them the summers off and they enjoyed traveling and being away from home quite often. It was an easy paying gig, (I mean, I got to stay at a cool house and play with dogs all day!) and it gave me time off from writing 20 page papers without having to jump into the work force immediately. Ah, those were the days. :)
But I also thought a lot about becoming a writer. Every time someone asked me what I got a degree in, after my answer they would say, "Oh, are you gonna be a teacher?"
"Um, no. I want to be a writer."
The response to that varied, depending on who I was talking to. Some people thought it was cool and asked what I wanted to write about, which at that time I had no idea. And others would ask me, almost mystified, what my parents thought about it. My father being an English teacher and my mother being the supportive woman she is, had no problem with that and were very proud when I became a reporter. I believe my mom still has all of the articles I've ever written, which is over three years' worth!
But the book thing never took off like I hoped it would. I changed my topic almost every month, never being able to find that one character, that one angle, that one story, that really captured my interest to develop it. I kept thinking, I've got time. I'm in a place in my life right now where I can do anything, go anywhere, be whatever I want. I'm writing on a regular basis so that should help to keep my creative juices flowing.
Unfortunately, though, writing other people's stories never left enough for me to write my own.
So I left. After three and a half years of town meetings, special events, feature pieces, even health magazine articles, I had had enough. It was time to go out and do something for myself, and that something was to find my story.
I left my hometown at age 26, the first time since graduating college at 22. I went east to stay with my sister and her husband while I tried to figure out what to do with myself. C and I were already dating by that time, which also helped in my decision to move away from home. Of course, at the time we said it was casual, but you obviously see how that's changed. :)
It was then I thought about writing about the quarter life crisis; you know, being in your mid 20s, out of school, but not quite in a career, where you feel as if you have every opportunity at your disposal. Your choices don't have to be permanent, they just have to keep you going forward. And even then, if you make a mistake, so what? There's plenty of time to fix it and move onto something else. The world is waiting for you to emerge and make your mark on it.
Now I'm 30.
Um, where the hell did all that time go??
So this is it. It's time to quit with all the excuses and weeks, months, YEARS of procrastination. I have found a story, which other people have told me is dramatic enough to be compelling, with characters I'm looking forward to developing. I'm outlining chapters, doing character sketches, and have had the first line down for awhile now. I even had a dream the other night that I had written the book and there were two publishers negotiating its publication.
Now I just have to do the work to make that dream a reality.
What is this book about, you ask? Well, I think I'll save that for my next blog.
On the up side, I have been working on my book a little bit, and I plan on continuing that trend over the weekend. C's brother, Z, is here for the weekend and they'll most likely be cracking out on gaming. So that pretty much leaves me to fend for myself in terms of finding stuff to do for the next two days. Fortunately though, I need that kind of nothingness to get my ass in gear and get some writing done! I'm excellent at taking random things and making them last ALL weekend, which is good to keep from getting bored, but bad when it distracts me from getting stuff done! But this time, the dishes are cleared, the laundry is done, and the Olympics will be over. Time to be productive.
When I graduated from college eight years ago, a bachelor's degree in English in hand, I wasn't sure where I was gonna go from there. I took the summer off to dog sit these two retired greyhounds who belonged to a fairly wealthy couple in Stockbridge. Their business gave them the summers off and they enjoyed traveling and being away from home quite often. It was an easy paying gig, (I mean, I got to stay at a cool house and play with dogs all day!) and it gave me time off from writing 20 page papers without having to jump into the work force immediately. Ah, those were the days. :)
But I also thought a lot about becoming a writer. Every time someone asked me what I got a degree in, after my answer they would say, "Oh, are you gonna be a teacher?"
"Um, no. I want to be a writer."
The response to that varied, depending on who I was talking to. Some people thought it was cool and asked what I wanted to write about, which at that time I had no idea. And others would ask me, almost mystified, what my parents thought about it. My father being an English teacher and my mother being the supportive woman she is, had no problem with that and were very proud when I became a reporter. I believe my mom still has all of the articles I've ever written, which is over three years' worth!
But the book thing never took off like I hoped it would. I changed my topic almost every month, never being able to find that one character, that one angle, that one story, that really captured my interest to develop it. I kept thinking, I've got time. I'm in a place in my life right now where I can do anything, go anywhere, be whatever I want. I'm writing on a regular basis so that should help to keep my creative juices flowing.
Unfortunately, though, writing other people's stories never left enough for me to write my own.
So I left. After three and a half years of town meetings, special events, feature pieces, even health magazine articles, I had had enough. It was time to go out and do something for myself, and that something was to find my story.
I left my hometown at age 26, the first time since graduating college at 22. I went east to stay with my sister and her husband while I tried to figure out what to do with myself. C and I were already dating by that time, which also helped in my decision to move away from home. Of course, at the time we said it was casual, but you obviously see how that's changed. :)
It was then I thought about writing about the quarter life crisis; you know, being in your mid 20s, out of school, but not quite in a career, where you feel as if you have every opportunity at your disposal. Your choices don't have to be permanent, they just have to keep you going forward. And even then, if you make a mistake, so what? There's plenty of time to fix it and move onto something else. The world is waiting for you to emerge and make your mark on it.
Now I'm 30.
Um, where the hell did all that time go??
So this is it. It's time to quit with all the excuses and weeks, months, YEARS of procrastination. I have found a story, which other people have told me is dramatic enough to be compelling, with characters I'm looking forward to developing. I'm outlining chapters, doing character sketches, and have had the first line down for awhile now. I even had a dream the other night that I had written the book and there were two publishers negotiating its publication.
Now I just have to do the work to make that dream a reality.
What is this book about, you ask? Well, I think I'll save that for my next blog.
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