It's Beginning to Look A Little Like Christmas

     Okay, I emptied the hall closet today. The one you couldn't get into without something tumbling onto your head. The one I stuck everything in LAST January and shoved with my foot as I closed the door. The closet no one dared open for eleven and one half months.
     It is lovely and neat now. It is nearly empty.
     On the other hand, there are boxes piled on the living room couch, the chairs, the floor and in the bedroom on my side of the bed and in front of the closet. Some are emptied and some are partially opened, papers and lids pulled and shoved out of place, so I can see what lies inside. Lights and stars are trailing across the floor and several dozen candles are scattered willy-nilly around the rooms.
     In other words, I'm decorating.
     Christmas is officially here. The stockings are hung by the chimney with care. Really and truly, even if what is left of the chimney from 150 years ago is only a partial plaster shape jutting out from the stairwell wall. And I doubt than anything larger than a mouse could possibly get down whatever opening might remain. Much less Santa Claus.
     But the stairs make a nice spot to place the majority of the decorated stockings and with the chimney behind holding the (self-purchased) three-foot stocking of one of the more optimistic grandsons, the living room begins to take on a very festive air.
     There aren't too many flat surfaces in my living room (at least ones that aren't permanently cluttered with books and papers) but now those that are available are covered with my collection of Santas and the odds and ends of small things accumulated through the years. Oddly enough, even the shabby worn ornaments take on some kind of glow when they've been uncovered after another year of being boxed up. One just can't give some of them up no matter how bad they look or how worn out they become.
     Over to my left is an empty corner, waiting for my daughter and grandson to return with our Christmas tree. Everything in the room had to be rearranged so the 'office' has temporarily turned into a storage room, the upright bass and guitar has been moved out of the living room, a couple of little tables have disappeared and some chairs are now crowded together. But do you think I'm giving up my floor-to-ceiling live Christmas tree? Over my dead body!
     And pretty soon it won't look a little like Christmas any more. It will look a LOT like Christmas.
     It's a good thing. Because it is coming much faster today than it was yesterday.
     As some good folks used to say, it seems to me that,  "The hurriered I go the behinder I get."

Better Late Than Never

     So much is going on in our house right now I can barely breathe. Between family, our business stuff, MFS conference responsibilities and all the bits and pieces of getting the new book out there I meet myself coming and going.
     First thing in the morning is the coffee pot, natch. Next, turn on the computer. Run and make the bed. Get dressed. Check the e-mail. Drink my first cup and try and open my eyes a little wider. (I sleep later nowadays than I used to and I don't wake up fully for a looooonnnggg time.) Last night's dishes (no, I don't do them at night!).
     Okay, to work. Back and forth to the computer to the dining table to the stuff piled on the desk to the computer to the table to the stuff piled on the desk to the shop to see if Ben wants some breakfast (he goes out but he doesn't seem to eat enough to keep a bird alive so I always have to try anyway) back to the computer, etc., etc., etc.
     Last night Sandy and I drove to Lamar to watch the football game. Aaron made two touchdowns and ran most of the yardage for the third one but we lost by just a few points. Unfortunately, he managed to get a concussion so it ended the evening on a sour note. By the time we all got home and he was established at his dad's house and it was clear that everything was okay it was well after midnight, but do you think I could sleep late this morning? Nooooooo. I had to wake up early and worry, worry, worry about everything.
     Write? Who has time to write? I wish I did. I love to write. I want to write.
     I hear those tales from writers who tell everyone who listens that they never ever miss their daily stint. Well, I'm here to tell you, that they must miss out on a lot of stuff. Or maybe they're just more organized than I am.
     But I ask you this: when you're in the middle of a story or an assignment and the nursing home calls because your in-law is having a panic attact or a meltdown of some sort, do you choose to sit there until your three hours are over or do you stop and let it wait until you find time? If your kid is receiving an award at 10 a.m. and that's when you have your writing time, do you say "Uh, oh! Can't make it?" and go on with your article?"
      Maybe that's the difference between me and a really dedicated writer. I can't give up my 'real' life for the one I yearn for in my mind.
      But that's okay. I have lots of rewards from both ends of things. And every now and then I actually get a book out on the market. . . whoopee!
     So watch out for the latest. Probably about the end of October. From Trash to Treasure: the Evolution of An Ozarks Junkyard. You will be able to get it from Amazon. Check out the publisher at .



    

Which Come First : the Chicken (housekeeping) or the Egg (writing)

     Spring is my favorite time of the year and now that the taxes are done and the sun is shining on a regular basis I can really take the time to enjoy it. I took all the stuff into the accountant this morning and spent a couple of hours with him, walking out with only one small item to look up after I got home. Then I called him with the answer and filed the papers, heaved a sigh of relief and walked outdoors to admire my miles of golden daffodils.
      For years I've allowed the jonquils to spread and the results are wonderful now. Of course there are the predators . . . first the husband and now the grandson. They despise anything that they aren't allowed to mow down and I have to watch Aaron like a hawk.
      I threaten to put large rocks all over my yard until the green blades turn to brown and lean into the dirt. In fact Aaron begins making noise when the tiny plants first begin to peak their spears above the ground. "Ohhh, look," he will say. "It's going to be time to MOW!"
     Someday I'm gonna kill that kid.
     But spring has finally come and Easter Sunday is this weekend. The college-age granddaughter will be home for a short-short visit, Ben is feeling a bit better and life is good for the time being.
      I registered today for the Arkansas SCBWI conference in Little Rock to be held the end of April. It didn't look as it I could take the time to go but turned out that I could and since I've got two juvenile books to pitch to agents and editors I'm really pleased to find I could make it after all. This has been such a lousy year in every other way and I've not had time or energy to market any of my writing (never mind that I've not even been able to produce anything new either) so I'm tickled to find something with this much promise.
     It looks as if the adult non-fiction is going to be published in the near future if everything goes right so everyone keep fingers (and toes) crossed, please, and I will update you as soon as I hear anything. Keep in mind that the publishing world moves sloooowwwwllllyyyyyyy though so don't look for it too quickly.              
     In a moment of madness, I tore 'my corner' completely apart yesterday afternoon. Sort of a celebration of sorts for finishing the income tax. My chair and table and lamp are surrounded by desk, computer, another lamp, a spare upright bass fiddle that has sort of been swallowed up, and piles and piles and piles and piles of books, magazines, manuscripts, papers, clippings, etc., etc., etc. Since I was basically crippled about June last year with this blasted knee thing, my housekeeping on the whole got completely out of hand and 'my corner' has been completely neglected. I kept saying to Ben that I was going to get to it and suddenly I did.
     I've burned a lot of stuff and now I have about 2/3 of the books stacked up neatly but I still have approximately 1/3 of the books left to make decisions about (do you know how hard it is for me to part with a book?) and about a half dozen shallow boxes filled with various and sundry papers, photos, clippings, etc.
     I sort of wish I'd never started it but it needed to be done.
     When I die they will just have to burn down the place and put me on the top. There isn't any other solution.