All About the Heat (Krissie0

Okay, I slept late. It’s miserably, blastingly hot. Well, not by a lot of people’s standards, but by mine. We don’t have much air conditioning up here, and it’s never a dry heat. You’ve heard me complain loud and long about the lack of a summer. Nature decided to give it to us in September, after the pool and the portable air conditioner were put away, after the killing frost, after enough cold weather to make the lake really chilly. It’ll probably reach 90 today, maybe higher. On the weather map Burlington is the hottest city, hotter than Orlando. It makes me grumpy.
But. I finished the book! Saturday was too hot to do much, so I sat on the desk and decided to write long-hand, since I seemed to have a mental block with this book and I couldn’t make myself finish it. I wrote for hours on the deck. When the sun reached me I moved to the side deck, and when the sun reached there I dragged the chaise and moved to the front lawn, which never gets sun. (We’re entirely private with 20 acres, btw. Back when we built 20 acres cost $15,000.)
I wrote so much the muscles isn my arm were cramping (not the hand, interestingly enough). I wrote until the happy ending, I even added a coda (maybe if I call it a coda Jenny won’t realize it’s an epilogue and yell at me. Just kidding – she never yells. She just looks at me sadly and shakes her head).
So, today. Business Monday, transcribing all those pages into the computer (my Dragon Dictate no longer works and the new one is $300 so transcribing R us.) And then the great unknown.
I got up in the middle of the sweltering night, came downstairs and dragged boxes and boxes away from the outside door in my office so I could get a cross-draft. And I do have a nice blue fan Crusie gave me, so I won’t melt.
Mind you, at 10 degrees I wear gloves. At 0 I button up my coat. Minus 10 and I might even wear a hat. Minus 20 I’ll wear silken long johns. I’m like the logger, if you remember that song.

Hmmm. I don’t think that works. Let me see.  Oh, looks like it does.

Anyway, enough about the weather.  It’s small potatoes (a great X-Files episode, BTW) compared to hurricanes and earthquakes, and I’ll stop bitching.  We’ll go do geriatric tubing – I climb on the floatie (maybe even the one that kept dunking me in the pool) and we’ll tie a rope to the kayak and Richie will paddle me in the lake.  It looks ridiculous and it’s wonderful.  I do have the best husband.

But now – work.  Work work work.  And perhaps one more song.


Anyone joining me?

Working Wednesday: The Big Sort

I’m going through  my kitchen and figuring out what to keep and what must go and what I need to get.  Yeah, there are some things I need.  Mollie’s doing the same thing, so we’re swapping ideas which is always tricky for us because we are complete opposites.  But there are some things we agree on, like tossing worn out cookie sheets (those things get used for everything) in favor of new, insulated ones, and–this one was surprising–heavy duty #20 cookie scoops.  And of course some things we probably wouldn’t agree on, like the cherry measuring spoons I needed because my measuring spoons have had it and because they”ll look so great hanging on the edge of my shelves.

Everything else, however, must go unless it is useful, beautiful, in good shape, and essential to my wellbeing.  Or on a really high shelf where it’s not going to get in my way.  There are some things like my NYC taxi and Betty Boop cookie jars that stay.  (My three-foot tall Betty Boop statue, however, is in the garage.)

So how did your work week go?  I got my lavender planted, so that was something.

All About You (Krissie)

This is how Richie sees me. This is True Love.
We were talking about how most women have the One True Love, or The One That Got Away, or the Dog of their Heart. As in, the man they still secretly pine for, even though they’re happily married with children and grandchildren. (Dog of your heart was my dog breeder aunt’s term for the special dog – you love them all, all your animals, but there’s one every generation or so that touches you in an even more profound way).
Richie was shocked at the notion (it came up because we were discussing my DIL and my troubled son and her previous and post relationships, and I think that even though I can’t imagine them ever being more than civil he’s still the dog of her heart and vice versa).
So Richie was surprised by this concept – not the dog part – we had Leo and Rags (plus we had Lilian and Rosie) and it goes with cats too. So I told him Sally’s and a couple of others, and then we went out to dinner with his sister who’s spending a couple of weeks here in the wretched Big Brown House and I asked her, and she promptly came up with hers.
I don’t think it means that was really your true love – I think it’s just that the love and longing never had time to fade, and it’s always a question of unfulfilled promise.
But here’s the interesting thing, that I hadn’t even considered until this morning. When I was talking to Richie about the concept he never asked me who mine was.
At dinner, last night, Anne did. Ask me about my True Love, and of course I answered the honest truth. Richie. There’s no one I’m pining for, no one I’m curious about, etc. When I think of people in my past that I could have married I shudder (and some of them are really quite lovely).
Of course there is Tom Hiddleston, George Harrison, Bob Dylan, David Carradine, Jerry Orbach, Gram Parsons, Daniel Day-Lewis, etc etc but there’s no secret about any of them – Richie just rolls his eyes and kisses me.
Mind you, I think Richie looks like this: .

To quote one of my favorite songs by Jack White – “Love is Blindness.”

In other news, I’m back from New Mexico, worn-out but happy, and I’ll give you guys a trip report later. I basically ate meat and starch – no fruit or veggies, and trust me, I really missed them. I hurt like a mother (chasing a 3 year old is not easy for someone with two destroyed knees and a funky shoulder), slept all day yesterday, and feel physically out of sorts and restless and needing to get my life back.
And of course wanting to immediately get back on a plane and go back there, because …. grandchildren.
But I need to tie up the loose ends in the book, do some sewing, nesting (I love fall). Plus, we’re finally having summer (almost 2 weeks of it). So lots of lovely things to do. I just need to find the time to do it all.

How’s by you? Who’s nesting, and what are you doing about it? Next week I’ll tell you the Fall-ish things I’ve done – for now I’ve got summer. I may even get in the lake this year after all.

Talk to me.

Double Happiness

It’s Double Happiness Sunday since I missed last week.  (Sorry.  Swamped here.)

According to the Wiktionary, the Double Happiness symbol is

  1. The Chinese ideogrammic compound , often used as an ornamental symbol in Chinese celebrations.

It’s usually used to symbolize marriage, but I kind like of the idea that it’s also friendship and sharing and good relationships in general.

You know.  Like us.

So how have you all had moments of happiness in the past two weeks?



Work Time (Krissie)

Well, I came in, all ready to put up photos, and I couldn’t find my photos. Last week, before I left (I’m in NM with my grandkids, oh, joy, oh rapture) I added another two borders onto Alex’s quilt, so now it’s ready for quilting. That makes three tops = when I get back I’ll make the backings (have the fabric already) and then sandwich them and quilt them. Not sure what’s next on the agenda, though I need to make another doll outfit because they make me happy.
Let’s see if I have anything I can show you …. The red dress on the left is the one I made. Otherwise I’m gonna have to figure out a way to move dropbox photos to the blog.
And now the three year old is calling and I must go. Pray for my joints.



Hmmm. I tend to sort of chew my lip when I take my picture. Silly.
So I’m here in the mountains of New Mexico, exhausted. I had a few hours sleep on Saturday/Sunday – 2 hours, from 1 am to 3 am and then left of the airport, slept a few hours on the plane and I’m still not caught up, but I’m with my grandchildren and I’m so happy! Last year I sat in our local airport, waiting to pick up Daniel, and there were all sorts of grandparents arriving, with grandchildren greeting them, and I cried. But now I get to be one of those grandmas! Ali’s very cuddly and demonstrative, Alex is sort of reservedly so – he made his bed beside mine in Ali’s room (pillows on the floor) while Ali popped into bed with me. I am a happy grandma.
So this week I get to finish the book (seriously – I wrote everything but the final 2 or 3 scenes on Saturday – the bad guys are dead, the hero has rescued the heroine (who could have rescued herself but was gobsmacked by a death) and everyone’s gone to school or work or bed (Hari the cop and probably soon to be ex-boyfriend works nights) so I have all this time to myself, at least today and Thursday-Friday. tuesday-Wednesday Ali will stay home with me while Alex takes the school bus and Erin takes the car to the airport. I fly home on Saturday.
Man, I love children! Especially my own (no blood relationship with either of them, but they’re my own). I usually spend a couple of hours facetiming with them every week (where half the time the phone is left on the kitchen table while they run around but it’s worth it.
My mother should never have had children – she didn’t like them until they could make intelligent conversation. But then, glorious moi would not exist. But I’ve always loved ’em. Loved babysitting, etc.
Funny, though. When I was going through infertility and making the usual bargains with god, I never offered to give up my writing for pregnancy. Children are my heart, writing is my brain, and both are my soul.
And Richie … words fail. So why do I whine when I have all three?
Well, actually I haven’t been whining much lately, in case you didn’t notice. It’s been more than a year and a half since I’ve been depressed. I’ll have to ask Crusie if there’s a huge difference in me when I am and am not depressed. It’s probably more internal than external.
The best things in life do require sacrifice, and you often have to sacrifice your dreams. (Or at least let go of them, because they just aren’t going to happen, and make peace and joy out of it). I knew I was never going to have that magical pregnancy, but it was okay. My children are the exact same souls I would have given birth to it, though birth-children would have been more fucked. No, that’s not a typo – we have so much addiction and mental illness in my family that genetic offspring would have been screwed. This way I can love my children but not feel guilty that I chose to reproduce with my biological heritage. (Daddy was a bipolar alcoholic who died at 58, Mummy (that’s what I called her) had a borderline personality. I knew there’d be trouble. Thought actually Mini-me is beyond fine, she’s fabulous, warm and creative and thoughtful and capable of doing a million things without getting frazzled.
But while I never got 9 months of fatness without guilt, I still have wonderful, if troubled kids.
I wonder if other women would have traded writing for children when they were in their early 30s. I’d had two books out before I tried to great pregnant (in my 20s) so I was a little further along, but it had saved me all my childhood.
Do we have fabulous things coming up this week? At least there’s be no weather-lated catastrophe for a while, I hope, though more earthquakes could follow Mexico.
Onward! I have grandchildren to love!