Monday, October 19, 2009

Wanna Make A Bet?

I am not above admitting that I am planning on being the laziest person alive this winter. Let's recap.

My youngest son is now in school all day. Said son had turned me into a therapist of all sorts since being diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder at the age of 2 1/2. So having him out of the house from 8 am until almost 4 pm gives me a whole new life.

Yes, one I've been struggling with lately, but a new life nonetheless.

So now that winter is beating fall into submission here in central Indiana, I have decided that if it is not sunny and beautiful outside this winter on a given day - I refuse to leave the abode. Or even leave my pajamas. Unless, of course, I absolutely have to (one of my boys is throwing up, bleeding profusely, or on fire at school).

Mrs. Zipps laughed in my face when I told her this. This makes me want to prove her wrong.

Carry on, Internet.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Block Block Blockety Blocked

Blocks - and Not the Fun Kind
Nothing can make you break through writer's block like writing . . . right? We'll see. I'll keep up the drivel until I knock something loose.

So in the midst of brainstorming ideas to become self-employed eccentrics who work in their pajamas and don't leave the house for days at a time (hey, wait a minute ...), Sean, Mr. Zipps, and I started tossing out book ideas - and I think I may have hit on something. They are always telling me to hurry up and write my bestseller so they can quit their jobs and the Andersons and Zipps can live happily ever after on the proceeds. (They obviously don't quite get this writing/publishing thing.)

I'm not divulging the idea here for obvious reasons, but let's just say I hope this writer's block dissolves soon so I can get moving. Pray, please?

Everything I Needed (but Didn't Want)
To Know About Holly, I Learned One Day
On Her Blog When She Had Writer's Block

Hair totally skeeves me out. Especially long, wet hair that's not attached to my own head.

The only coffee I drink at Starbucks is a grande, non-fat, two-pump mocha with light whip.

The coffee I drink at home has non-fat hazelnut creamer and light whipped cream on it.

I won my third-grade spelling bee and came in 3rd in fourth grade.

I once won a proofreading award (I know, so sad.)

I was on the equestrian team in college (western, not english).

I find almost everything funny in some way - to a fault.

I was saved from being hit by a train by a stranger when I was two.

I can tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue.

I was caught by the police driving before I had my driver's license (They only called my mom - an advantage of small-town living.)

Sean and I met on the first day of 7th grade when our lockers were next to one another, began dating in 10th grade and married at 20.

I loooooooove to cook and share it.

My mind and personality are exercises in contradiction. I think very analytically about most things and there's a method to almost everything I do. Yet, I'm extremely creatively scatter-brained much of the time. Good luck figuring that out. My parents - after 38 years, and my husband - after a bazillion years, cannot. I have no desire to figure it out - that might make my head explode.

I have wanted to be a writer since I was little. My friend, Lisa, and I used to write books together. Pretty funny reading today.

My mom used to tell me I should be a lawyer because I love to argue so much (and can wear just about anyone down until they want to gouge their own eyes out). This is not so much a good quality if you are not a lawyer, as I am not.

This one quality, I passed on to my middle son. This is called karma.

I am a Ball State University grad with a degree in Journalism. Go Cards! Yep - David Letterman, the founder of Papa John's pizza, and the creator of Garfield, and me - BSU can really turn 'em out, yes?

I can be a little obsessive about things being a certain way, but have let a lot of this go being the mother of three boys. Mainly in the area of housekeeping. Clearly.

I wish more people would have retained what they learned about grammar in elementary school.

That is all.

Monday, October 5, 2009

So This Is How It's Going to Be.

I continue to struggle to write and get mundane things done during the day even though all the planets are aligned correctly; meaning - the sun is shining; it's a beautifully-colored fall season; I have plenty of uninterrupted time; in other words - the conditions are ripe for motivation, so the words should flow.

Not so.

I. Am. Struggling. With daily life. With my boys' issues. With autism. With a mood disorder. With. Life.

No reason. No big incident. Just a creeping stream that's becoming a raging river. I can navigate the stream just fine on any given day. But to navigate the river takes stamina. And a positive outlook. And self-confidence. All of which I'm sorely lacking recently. So erosion is starting to occur.

And the thing? Here's the thing. The thing of it all is this. It's driving me crazy that I can't figure out why. Why? What is the origin of the problem? I haven't a clue. Perhaps I'm just worn down.

It really is emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausting dealing with some of the issues I deal with daily, but I don't often realize or notice because it's what I deal with daily. I think sometimes it takes someone else's reaction to some of what we endure to see it for what it actually is - super, unbelievably, cosmically difficult (which is the nice way of putting it).

I am sick of autism. I am sick of a mood disorder that "borders on bi-polar disorder." I am sick of having so little control over my boys' issues. I am sick of doing all the right things and watching an entire day spin out of control and trying to pick up the pieces so that what they remember from their childhood is good. I am sick of gloriously conquering one issue just to have the next one ready and waiting at its heels.

I am sick of the guilt.

I am sick of the worry.

I am sick of how none of it makes any sense. My mind grinds and spins and smokes trying to make even the tiniest part of any of it reasonable, so that I can attach a solution to it. But that's not how these gears fit together - not even close. They laugh at reasonable solutions and spit them out.

On most days, I can roll with it all and laugh and employ strategies that may or may not work and chug along because this is how it is and this is how it's going to be. This stuff isn't going away.

But I'm struggling. With this overflowing, raging river that's normally a trickling, manageable stream.

photo by Kodiak1

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Dear Indiana Fall,

I love you with all of my heart. You make my heart sing and my emotions all tingly. You make me want to frolic in a golden meadow, wear those weird gloves where the fingers are cut out holding a warm cup of cider, jump into a pile of leaves and come out with a bunch of them tangled in my hair. Just in case there is any doubt in your mind after having said that, then let's settle this: your beautiful, sunny, orange and rust-colored days lift my spirits so high, I could almost fly.

Now having said that, let's have a talk.

Indiana Winter is stalking you. It does this every year - have you not caught on yet? I hold out hope every year that you will be strong, turn around, and look it in the evil eye and - for once - stare it into submission.

Could this be the year?

Your counterpart in Houston is really on the ball. The years we lived there, Southeastern Texas Fall did its job. It faltered sometimes for a day or two and we had to turn our heat on (gasp!); but for the most part, Fall turned right into spring after a few weeks of non-stop rain in January.

We did not miss snow. We did not miss ice. We did not miss living half the year in a colorless world.

So if you could, you know, get a little more confident in your abilities, I'm sure you will find that Indiana Winter is not something that you cannot take on.

If nothing else, undermine its self-esteem by constantly telling it that nobody around here really likes it at all. Tell it we only tolerate it to a small degree - and if there's no pretty, white, fluffy snow on Christmas; well, that's a deal breaker right there.

C'mon - this is totally your year! You can do it. I have complete confidence in you.

photo by Anita K