Making Changes, Celebrating Accomplishments

Well, the whole "document my Nano Journey" thing went down in flames, although the important bit, the novel, did not. That is a good thing, to channel Martha Stewart. I managed to finish a major goal without giving in to several illnesses, a truly frustrating job search, the pressures of holidays with family, and a hefty teaching load with a bunch of students who truly want a boot up the bum. Hurrah to me, and if the smaller goal of documentation fell to the wayside, then so what?

I learned a lot both about writing and about myself this November. I learned that I thrive with a clear creative project underway. I learned that the real complexities of research only present themselves during the act of writing. I learn that being honest on the page isn't as easy as it sounds. I learned that I have dwindling patience for sad-sack excuses from young folk who spend their entire day socializing and pissing around in the commons instead of reading and working. Now what to do with all that knowledge....

1) The Novel Itself: I'm letting it lie fallow for about a month, just for mental health purposes. After that, I'm going to tuck into some of the research problems, plotting messes, and messy honesty stuff that made the end half so painful.

2) I am going to keep writing daily: This month the goal is 500 words a day, and save for yesterday's day off for knitting Christmas presents, I've kept to it moderately well.

3)Work: I'm starting to look outside teaching for career options. Objectively, I know I am fairly talented as an instructor, but right now the work balance seems to be falling towards life taking. I need some kind of work that a) pays the damn bills, and b) doesn't leave me depressed at the end of each day.


On several unrelated notes, I am working on transitioning to a Vegan lifestyle. Mainly this is for ethical reasons; even casual research into factory farming reveals a level of barbarity impossible to accept. The transition is going fairly well. I have managed a week without slipping, and I find the food is enjoyable and my overall energy level is just a lot better. Of course, not working myself half to death on a daily basis likely has something to do with that as well.

Also, last night I made my first t-shirt necklace. Rather early this morning.  (There is a snorer in the house. Best not to talk about it) The results were satisfactory; though the shirt I chose was old and brittle in the seams and could not be stretched quite as vigorously as one would prefer. The concept of recycling old clothing to make new things really appeals to me. Why should so much stuff end up in a landfill just because its original purpose has been fulfilled? It's just wasteful. I am thinking of keeping these projects up. Maybe selling them. Anyway, here is a picture of my first shot at a t-shirt necklace:

Day 16: Burning Up My Safety Cushion

Today is a logistical nightmare. In addition to my writing, I DM for a bunch of crazy cool friends of mine. Anyway. This Friday we are kidnapping a friend who is moving out of town and introducing her to the wonders of Dungeons and Dragons. This meant that I could only do the bare minimum of writing. So much for being ahead of the curve....

Day 15: Eye of the Tiger

Yesterday was nearly a complete loss with tutoring students, grading, choir, and attending a gallery opening for one of the hubbie's employees and a former co-worker of mine. I managed to get about eight hundred words done, but not much else. Today was better despite my still hefty grading load and low energy level. I managed to cross the mid-point of the novel and add a bit of padding. Huzzah. The plot bunnies are still creeping in from time to time, but I am satisfying them with the promise of attention after November. All right. Ciao for now.

Day 13: Body Count Helps

Today was the Tuesday Write in at Barnes and Noble, and it was pretty productive. I love the DeKalb Wrimos; they always put a smile on my face. I am still in the mid-novel doldrums, but I killed off one of my stock characters in a disgusting yet spectacular manner. It was fun, and that kind of gave me a second wind, but I have a crap ton of grading to do, and my students seem to be slacking off a lot, so grading is an unusually large energy suck. Any tips from those of you in a similar situation? How do you get back in the flow when doing a lot of tiresome work projects?

Day 12: Crossing the Midway Mountains of Madness

It's about that time again. Those of you out there who have been keeping up pace with your word count will be somewhere approaching the mid point of your novel. And if you are anything like me, you are about to bash your head in with the nearest laptop. I do not know if there is really a way around the doldrums of mid-month, but I know what is getting me through this week. Wine. Lots of cheap box wine right after I finish my daily grading and writing. Speaking of cheap wine, I am done writing this evening and still lamentably sober. Need to fix that up right now. Good luck folks, and do not let go of the bucking mustang that is Nanowrimo. This bronco bites. 

Day 10: On the Mend and On the Ball

Today's writing adventure began with me stealing a little bit of writing time at church. Yes, I am aware that it is odd for an Atheist to go to church, but, hey. My husband is a choir director and I a first soprano. Our associate pastor, a lovely woman who embodies the best spirit of the Reformed faith, is leaving for Indiana today, so I wanted to be there. But that did not make my writing obligations go away.

I managed to hit 20,000 words at our Sunday write-a-thon, which will allow me to tweak an exam I need to give on Wednesday and attend Pastor Karen's farewell dinner this evening. On the good news front, that chihuahua who followed me home on Friday is back and safe with his peeps. He didn't even have to spend the night in doggy jail. Happy day.

Day 10: I'm still standing

Well, I have manage to exceed my word count requirement today, despite the fact that I am still sick and oozing phlegm. I did eat way into my word count pad over the past two days, but I am starting to build it up again the only way I know how: sheer bloody mindedness. On Tuesday's write in, I said something to a fellow wrimo, "Writing is a game that rewards the stubborn." At the time, I was just saying that to be witty, but this ongoing November illness has taught me the truth of those words. I have discovered that a good deal of this novel writing business really is cultivating terrier tenacity.

Anyway, I want to get a few hundred more words knocked out tonight. Have a good night, all.

Day 9: Making the Best

Today really did not work for writing. I am still sick, and my energy levels are sort of spiraling the drain today. So mostly I wrote at the teaching center, and

sunny Wal-Mart. This was while I was waiting for my bus. I had planned to do a bit of writing when I got home, but the Fates were not looking out for me. A little stray Chihuahua came bolting out of the shrubbery and followed me home. I used my energy walking around and trying to find his people (unsuccessfully). Well, he is in animal control's hands now. I will be checking in to make sure he gets into a home. Never fear.

Day 8: Diseased and Asking for Monies

Day 8: Late last night, I started feeling a wave of achyness crash over me, my sinuses began burning, and my nose began leaking. This will be my second illness this month. My first was a short bout of stomach flu on Saturday night. Somehow, I am still keeping a bit ahead of the curve, but not by much.

Now on to something different. In a moment, I am going to put a fund raising widget up for Nanowrimo, and I would be most grateful if you would donate. This isn't about just a bunch of nerdy adults living out their dreams. Nanowrimo does a huge amount of work in the public schools, and when they have left-over money, they give that away to support literacy and whatnot. It's one of the best non-profits that I know.

Day 7: Too Much Work, Not Enough Writing

Day 7: DeKalb Public Library

As you might be able to tell from the expression of pure joy on my face, today was not the best writing wise. I managed only two hours of sleep last night, and today's teaching load was particularly heavy. Consequently, I managed to pound out only a little over a thousand words. Ah well, there's always tomorrow. So how do you all manage to push past a serious hump? Any tips?

Day 6: Still Ahead of the Curve

Well, it's day 6 and for some weird reason, I am still ahead in the word count. Though my plot bunnies are still hopping out from beneath the couch, they are content with being jotted down and kept in day care, so huzzah. I did my writing at our local B&N after having voted, and managed to knock out 1600 words with relatively little pain. So, I am going to get back to work and hopefully get another 1,000 before I go to bed. Good luck to all of you fellow Wrimos and happy writing.

Attack of the Killer Plot Bunnies

Day 5: Me at the Kishwaukee College Cafe

It's going well so far--this whole novel writing business. I am consistently hitting my word count goals and even exceeding them. None of my characters make me want to punch them in the face, and the plot is developing. But the first real challenge has arisen: Plot Bunnies. Plot bunnies are random ideas for stories that creep out of the wood work unbidden. They are particularly drawn to working writers. For those of you new Wrimos out there who are thinking of dropping your novel for one of those cute, big eyed little shits, I have one bit of advice: don't. Plot bunnies are assholes. They will sucker you in and leave you high, dry, and behind on your word count, until another one comes into view. The problem is that plot bunnies nag for attention like a four year old nagging for candy.

So the question remains, what to do with the plot bunnies? My response is to putter with them a bit in the notebook, to promise them some room in the limelight come December. It works for me, but I am interested in what works for you.

Day 4 at the official Ream of Writers write in: Barnes and Noble. Doing well. Somewhat ahead of schedule, and that makes me happy. But I feel like I am getting sick. Not good. And Monday I have two sections of Writing with assignments due. Sigh. Grading and writing.

Nano: What Once Was Lost

Buster "helps" me write

So, this probably goes without saying, but I am an idiot. Last night my husband and I went out to pick up a present for a friend's wedding and some hosiery for yours truly. Anyway, guess who left her manuscript at the store? If you guessed this blond bombshell, you guessed right. Anyway, I was so mad at myself that I refused to go back to get the manuscript and stayed up late making up for lost time. (It doesn't make sense to me either) Fortunately, the good people at Ross's kept my MS safe and sound, and now I am going to be quite a bit ahead of schedule. The moral of the story? Don't bring your MS shopping.

Nano Day 2: The Sugar Rush has Crashed

Here's me at the beginning of my day, taking a writing break at work and only 200 measly words into my quota.

Here's me at the end of the day: where I need to be regarding my word count, but a good 446 words away from my quota. Oh the pain!

So, out of curiosity, how is the month of writing dangerously going for you all?

Nano: Challange accepted. Goal met. Now where's my sugar?

Here's me about to celebrate meeting my daily word count with a tasty butter finger. Oh yes, victory, even in small doses, is sweet!

Nano fabulous

This year I've decided to record my Nano journey in photos, to record the glory and the agony. Every new place, every writing session will get its own photo.

This was me in my office just a few minutes before the pumpkin dropped Nanowrimo kicked off. I managed to knock out 193 words before the siren song of sleep became too strong.  Look. I'm still smiling and in my Halloween costume

Susan B. Anthony on so-called believers - Imgur

I loved this one and just had to share. Happy Friday to all you wage slaves.
Susan B. Anthony on so-called believers - Imgur

Just Because I Love it: Comedy Of Chicago: Tony Hawk interviews Louis C.K.

I don't usually re-blog other people's stuff. It feels a little lazy, but I am hung over and I really like this blog, Tony Hawk, and Louis CK. So if you haven't found it on your own, go! Go and listen and be amused. 

Comedy Of Chicago: Tony Hawk interviews Louis C.K.: Ha! Tony Hawk (Skating Legend) interviews Louis C.K. (Comedy Legend) Why? Who cares it's funny and informative. If your a comic/...

We're Not Young: A Shoutout to the Under and Unemployed

St. Melinda of the Minimum Wage Meditating on the Pointlessness 

 

of Her 

Degree

It's a cold world out there, ladies and gentlemen. As one of the estimated 12.1 million underemployed Americans, I can say that with a fair amount of confidence. 12.1 million is an unseemly number of adults to be scraping by with temp jobs, contract work, and minimum wage, and it seems like altogether too many of we the underemployed are in possession of one if not more college degrees.

 A recent article in the Atlantic claims that 53% of recent graduates are either unemployed or underemployed. That is only the tip of the iceberg. A lot of my friends and acquaintances have been out of school for years without ever scoring a real, career-type job. We don't have the experience, or suddenly we're finding a Master's degree is the new minimum when a few years ago a BA and some internships were the real requirement And it ain't just the Liberal Arts weenies (myself among them) who are feeling the pinch. It's the business majors, the computer science geeks, and the OMIS people too. It's getting bad enough that the mainstream press is beginning to ask whether College is worth the investment.

So this begs the question: are things ever going to get better for us? Will all of the degrees and internships and work experience ever result in gainful employment that pays the bills? I hope so, but I am interested in what y'all have to say. I am also interested in hearing some of your stories. But while I'm waiting, enjoy this clip from SketchY Parody. It seems to sum up things rather nicely. And please don't shoot yourself. It would be messy.

Holy Crap, My Cat's a Wino and Other Events of the Day.

Pets can be...odd at times. Over the years, I've caught his nibs doing some downright peculiar things--licking my dog's butt, using his body as a fur coated bowling ball to knock over beer bottles, systematically opening all of the doors and drawers in the kitchen like some sort of deranged specter from the 6th sense, whatnot--but  there used to be a clear limit on what he would meddle with. And that limit was people food and beverages---until tonight, that is. I was reading an interesting article on the rise of secularism in American Protestants over a nice little glass of  CardBordeaux, looked up, and found my fluffy little attitude engine face first in the glass of wine and sucking it up like there's no tomorrow. And now he won't leave the hooch alone. So I ask you, gentle readers, what the hell? Why on earth after three years would my kitty just decide to take a shine to the ol' thunderbird? Is he just trying to piss me off, or do I need to find a kitteh AA meeting?

So many questions. Ah well, I have to get some sleep. A full day of grading awaits.

I don't own a jet ski either....

For all of you who are good and sick of political season, here's a contribution from Bad Lip Reading that treats our candidates with the level of respect I feel that they deserve....

Sweet dreams, my bitches.

It's beginning to look a lot like NaNo...

24 days and counting. 24 days until a non-stop roller coaster ride of fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants plots, clumsy characterizations, and papier mache scene descriptions all fueled by pancreas punishing levels of caffeine and pixie stick consumption  leading to what will hopefully be a (flaming turd of a) 50,000 word novel. Yes, folks, it's almost time for NaNoWriMo, and, sicko that I am, I am psyched. As you can clearly deduce from this pre-NaNo pic.

I have been participating in NaNoWriMo for three years now. One year I flew entirely without benefit of a safety net and produced a novel of almost splendid horribleness, which I am finally (hopefully) ready to rework. Two of those years were utter duds due to forces beyond my control, but this year promises to be different. Because, ladies and gentlemen, I have a plan. Or at least most of a plan.

Holy. Shneikies.

About three months ago, Sunne, one of the members of the DeKalb chapter of NaNo, let me on to something called the snowflake method, which basically helps you grow your novel from the ground up and relatively painlessly. And it's been working surprisingly well so far. For the first time ever, I am feeling pretty well set up to tackle the marathon that is NaNo.

Yeah, I'm sure that feeling will be going away, too. But for right now I am feeling a refreshing, albeit guarded, optimism. Many thanks to Sunne. Now I'm off to walk the pooch.

Question of the Day: What the Blazes are Smelling Salts and How do they Work?

So, I was working on my steam punk story, and the opportunity came up for the use of smelling salts. Who am I to say no to opportunity, but the question presented itself: What are smelling salts, and how do they work?

I came across my answer on Wise Geek

a website I heartily enjoy. To summarize, smelling salts, or sal volitale, are a mixture of ammonium carbonate and perfume. The unholy stink irritates mucous membranes of your nose, throat and lungs stimulating deeper breathing.

So, that's today's answer. Just don't go out playing with smelling salts because the fumes are toxic! 

Those Pesky Leftovers

One of the worst bits of cooking for two is the leftovers. It seems like no matter how carefully I plan, there are always leftovers. And if your guy is anything like mine, leftovers just don't fly. So what do you do with the bits and pieces from last night's meal? There's always lunch, but if you're the only one who will eat leftovers for lunch, that gets a tad old. So the other option is to incorporate leftovers into a new meal for the next dinner. That's where leftovers can get a bit fun. Here's a recipe that I came up with today that works handily for some common leftovers, and it's pretty tasty too!

• 2 cups cooked grains (I used leftover quinoa, but rice would do just as well. Really, whatever you made too much of last night can be used)
• 1/ cup chopped sweet vidalia onion
• 2 stalks celery, diced
• Vegetable oil, about 2 tbsp
• 1 16 oz can diced tomatoes with jalapeño.
• 1 8oz can of tomato sauce
• 1 cup of vegetables (frozen or leftover work equally well. I used frozen carrots, but the sky 's the limit)
• leftover meat, shredded (I had a single, lonely pork chop to get rid of. About a cup should do nicely, but use your tastes as a guide)
• 2 tbsp soup  base (a bullion cube can be substituted, but the gluten-free stuff I mentioned in an earlier post is my new fave)
• Shredded cheese of your choice. Enough to cover the top.

1. Preheat the oven to 350
2. Sauté celery and onions over medium-low heat until everything is nice and soft.
3. Combine everything except the cheese in a casserole dish. Pop it in the oven for about ten minutes.
4. Cover the casserole with cheesy goodness and cook until melted and noms.
5. Serve.

What I love about this recipe is that it's surprisingly tasty and absurdly easy to make on top of being very economical.

Question of the Day: Electromagnetic Pulses and You!

So it turns out that making a new resolution at the end of the semester, such as answering a question a day, is rather a stupid move. Go figure. At any rate, it's still a great project, and I'm going to put my hand to the task again.

Today's question is inspired by a story I'm writing right now. I thought it would be cool to give one of my characters an EMP weapon, so this is a two part question: What is an electromagnetic pulse?

According to the Division of Environmental Health, an Electromagnetic pulse is a pulse of energy that causes a powerful electromagnetic field. Most often, an EMP is a side effect of nuclear detonation, occurring when gamma  rays ionize the air.

To be honest, this answer raised more questions than it answered for me. I suppose this is a good thing as I need more questions to blog about.

Ciao, I'm off to swim and play a little D&D!

Question of the Day

And now for something entirely different. Yesterday on Lifehacker, I read an article called 366-days. or How I Tricked Myself Into Being Awesome

The article is by a guy by the name of Chris Strom, and it's definitely worth a read.
To summarize, Chris Strom asked and answered a question a day in his blog. He found at the end of the project that he had learned quite a bit and managed to get three books out of the exercise on technologies he knew nothing about. Cool, right?

So it got me to thinking, why can't I do that?
 And the answer is-----
No reason whatsoever.

So here it goes, the first in hopefully a daily installment of question of the day:

Why do polar bears look dark from a distance?


This question was posed to me in the writing class I teach. As part of the class, we have regular journaling sessions.  In past semesters, I just had students write their journals independently, but the product just wasn't as consistent as one would like, and the students tended to talk about personal matters. Nothing wrong with that, but college is here to expand horizons, so I decided to do in-class journals based off of TED talks. It turned out to be wildly popular. Anyway, during today's class we were watching Karen Bass's speech, "Unseen Footage, Untamed Nature." (Posted below if you want to give it a watch). The first clip was of Polar Bears making their way from their dens at the top of a steep clip. The bears looked unmistakeably not white. In fact, they nearly looked black. I had to admit, my student asked a great question, one to which I had no answer.

Well, my Polar Bears' oddly swarthy appearance turns out it has to do with two main issues, the first being skin. Underneath that shaggy coat, a polar bear's skin is, in fact, jet black. Jet black skin over four inches of blubber can keep a body warm in some pretty cold and nasty weather.

The second has to do with fur.

The Polar Bear's fur is not white.

You read that right.

Their fur is actually translucent with a hollow shaft. So, if you see the little boogers at one angle, they look white. From another angle they can look quite dark.

You learn something new every day.

Yummy! It's Soup Day!

For as long as I have been cooking, I have loved making my own recipes up like a good many cooks. I'm always on the lookout  for healthy recipes that don't involve too much fuss, and this whole gluten free lifestyle is causing me to go back to experimentation. Here is one of the gluten free recipes I concocted today.

Kielbasa and Pinto Bean Soup

• 4 cups of water
• 2 tbsp broth base (Orrington Farms Broth Base is both gluten free and tasty)
• 1/2 onion
• 5 small cloves garlic
•  4 carrots
• 2 stalks of celery
• 2 cups of pinto beans
• 1 16 oz can of crushed tomatoes with jalapeños

• 1 smoked turkey kielbasa (Jenny-O is what I used)

1.  Soak the pinto beans overnight. You can always use the canned stuff if you're in a time crunch, but dried beans are preferable because you can cook them to exactly the consistency you want them.
2. Drain and rinse the beans. Pop them in the soup pot with the water and the broth base. Cook over low heat while you do the rest of the prep.
3. Chop the onions, garlic, celery and carrots and add that.
4. Cut the kielbasa into bite sized chunks. Toss it into the pot.
5. Simmer over medium/low heat until the beans are soft enough for your taste. Add a little water if the soup cooks down too much. It took an hour to get the soup to where I liked it. 

I'd guess this soup serves about eight. I'm going to try freezing it to see how well it keeps. If you try my recipe, please let me know how it works for you.

Going Gluten Free

Recently a rash of family members on my Mother's side have been diagnosed with Celiac. For those of you not in the know, Celiac is an autoimmune disease that is triggered by gluten, the stuff in bread, beer, and a lot of other delicious foods that I love with all my heart. There are over 300 symptoms to Celiac, ranging from digestive woes to neurological problems, and it tends to take on average 8 to 11 years to get a diagnosis even if you are blessed with health insurance. (I'm not) As the only treatment for Celiac is giving up gluten and as I have a lot of the symptoms of the disease, I decided to go gluten free.

I've only been off gluten for three days so far, but I can already feel a difference. The early morning stomach cramps I've had ever since I can remember haven't reared their ugly head, my bowel doesn't hurt, and I have not had nearly the problems with constipation and diarrhea that I usually have.

The transition hasn't been easy so far. Giving up gluten means giving up most of the things I really enjoy, such as fresh bakery goods, real beer, breaded anything, salty pretzels, and so on. There are a lot of substitutes, some of them better than others, but there's a lot of re-learning to do. I also can't just run out for a day of errands any more and assume there'll be something to eat if I get ravenous. I can't go to a gallery opening and assume there'll be anything other than a few sad cheese cubes to nosh on. So there are social ramifications as well.

Here are some of the worst bits right now:

1) Bread: So far, not so good. I managed to find a bread that tastes tolerable. Firm emphasis on tolerable. Maybe that will change as I get used to the way different flours taste. I'm not counting on it. But I have yet to find a gluten free bread that is any good for sandwiches. It just all sort of crumbles at the slightest pressure. And the texture is just...not right. It's disappointing, and it makes me cranky.

2)Crackers and snacks: Rice crackers are just kind of odd. They taste OK, but the texture is odd, and I miss Doritos.

3) Beer: There is gluten free beer, and it is actually quite good, but there are so many regular beers that I am crazy for.

If anyone has any suggestions about products or how to cope with the social fallout from being on such a restricted diet, please let me know. In return, I'll post any info on recipes and good tasting snackies for those of you also on a gluten free diet.

A KIss to Build a Dream On: 1.4

Edward leaned back and lit the second cigarette of the conversation. The pungent yet not unpleasing smell of butane filled the private investigator's nostrils. It put him in mind of the times he had worked the middle watch, the men sleeping rough on the ground, the pregnant quiet, the waiting.

"I don't do cases like this. Not divorces. Not cheating dames. Not anything of the kind. It ain't personal. I just don't mess with matters of the heart. Period. Ain't worth the grief," He blew out a cloud of smoke, "It's the one kind of job that even if you give the client exactly what he wants, he still nurses a grudge."

David Thayer did not move. He stared at Edward Leer beneath heavily lidded eyes. The rattle of a nearby El and the groaning of the old water heater filled the detective's ears. Leer felt himself being weighed on the scales and found wanting. It was not a sensation he was accustomed to or particularly enjoyed.

"James Paulson. He's good. Discrete. We go way back. I'll give him a call first thing."

Thayer's lip twitched. "I'm not interested in Paulson. A great deal of care has been taken in your selection. A great deal. Whatever...inconveniences might be created by taking a case outside of your normal specialty, you would be more than adequately compensated."

Leer cleared his throat and was about to tell Thayer where he could shove his "compensation," gun or no gun, when Thayer wordlessly passed the detective another folder.

Leer looked at the folder in his hands and did not open it. He'd give the shrimp some credit. He was persistent. "It ain't a matter of money. Last case I took like this,  I got someone's ex wife shooting at me with one of them cute little lady's pistols. She couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Still, I don't like getting shot at by cheating dames or getting screamed at about how I just ruined some sad bastard's life. You wanted me to track down employee fraud? I'm there. This? No. I don't care what you're offering. Comprende?"

"And does Mrs. Leer feel the same way?" Thayer said softly, "It seems to me she might have different thoughts on the matter." He looked meaningfully at the cot stashed in the corner of the room and then back at Leer.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll leave my family out of this." Leer's voice was monotone, his affect controlled. In his mind's eye, Thayer was bleeding on the floor.

Thayer laughed soundlessly. "Just read it. I think you will find my offer most...agreeable."

Leer flipped open the folders. Thayer hadn't been kidding. The compensation was good. Too good even for a public scandal. What was the catch? There had to sbe something the hotel magnate was hiding. Eddie Leer reflected on the gnawing pain in his gut and on his wife and decided he didn't care.

"Fine. I start when I see the advance wired to my account. Not a second sooner."

Thayer smiled once again, "Naturally."

Losing My Religion

I don't believe in God. It isn't a matter of choice. If one could have faith as a result of personal effort, I would certainly still believe in God. I have prayed, read my Bible over and over, and attended seemingly endless hours of church. I have observed fasts and celebrated feasts. I have contemplated the mysteries of faith and conversed with people for whom faith seems to come as second nature.

None of these things have helped.

And I am tired of pretending.

When I first met my husband, Robert, more years ago than I would care to admit I had been an atheist for years, albeit one conflicted about a great many issues. Things shifted in my life, and I decided to go back to the faith of my childhood. That journey turned out to be every bit as conflicted and beset by uncertainty as my journey as an atheist. After a lot of thinking, I realized that as much as I wished to the contrary, I no longer believed. And no amount of wishing can make it otherwise.

As to why I don't believe, I can only say that it's complicated. If I had to narrow it down, I would  have to attribute my loss of faith to the following:

1) Reason: Religion, even in its benign forms, kept asking me to push mine to one side in a whole host of ways from belief in the need for a scapegoat to take away my "sins" to the demand that I ignore everything I know about science because the Bible says something different. I hate to break it to you, but there's no magic that will undo my past actions. And I've dug up the fossils that prove Genesis is bunk.

2) The Problem of Evil: Most of the evil I've seen in the world can be lain squarely at the feet of humanity. Some days it seems like screwing one another over is a time honored sport. I don't need any fancy explanations about that kind of evil. Mostly we suffer because we're jerks. Period. But then there's the other bit. The kids born with serious birth defects. The terminal cancer. The good and decent people who try and fail to have children when the people two doors down abuse their children.

3) General Religious Nastiness: Homophobia, sexism, telling me my grandpa's in hell because he was Catholic, suicide bombing, financial chicanery, etc. (If you aren't hurting people, this bit doesn't apply to you. So don't get in a snit.)

I realized that what gives me solace is science and the liberal arts, neither of which require me to shut off any part of my mind, neither of which require ornate mental gymnastics to appreciate, neither of which strain my credence past the breaking point.

You will probably still see me in church fairly regularly. The relationships I have experienced within the church have been a real consolation to me. There are a lot of great human beings participating in church. You will also see me participating in most of the worship, save communion. We humans are not as fully rational as we would like to believe, and refusing to make allowances for that irrational side of my personality doesn't seem to be all that healthy.

So. There it is. For now, that's all I have to say.

How to Wash a Cat

Supplies:

• Cat shampoo and conditioner.
•  Lukewarm water
• 3 Milk jugs
• Cat treats
• Pet tape or Athletic tape
• Towels
•  Leather gauntlets
• Hauberk or preferably a full suit of plate armor
•  Helmet
•  Priest 
• Eucharist
• Holy water
• Whiskey
• Tranquilizer gun
• Cell phone

Steps:

1. Call the priest to your house. Shrive yourself and have the priest administer extreme unction. Your actual religious affiliation (or lack thereof) does not matter for this step. Priests are the only ones who know how to do exorcisms, so it is best to hedge one's bets when bathing your kitty. It doesn't hurt to ask for some novenas to be said in your memory while you're at it.
2. Dress yourself in the hauberk, helmet, and leather gauntlets or, preferably, full plate armor. Pull your visor down over your face. These things will not protect you from the cat, but they will lull you into a false sense of safety, which will be vital for what follows.
3. Fill one of the milk jugs with a mixture of shampoo and lukewarm water. The second two should be filled with only lukewarm water. This will reduce the amount of water your cat has to be in contact with, thereby increasing your likelihood of surviving the bath.
4. Grab the tranquilizer gun and some cat treats and make your way to wherever your kitty has hidden. He will already know what is coming and be fully prepared for your attempts to corral him. Try to lure the cat into a place where you can shoot him with your tranquilizer gun. 
5. Pull the tranquilizer dart out of your neck and drag the cat off of the top of the refrigerator. Take him to the bathroom, taking care to avoid the teeth and claws. You will have a small window to wash your cat before the tranquilizer takes effect. On the plus side, you will be feeling pretty good.
6. Take the pet tape out and try to wrap the cat's paws in it.
7. Untie yourself from the pet tape and pull the cat off of the shower curtain. Ask the priest to begin the rite of exorcism.
8. Damp down your kitty with the mixture of soap and warm water.
9. Pull your cat off your face.
10.  Rinse your cat off using a jug of lukewarm water.
11. Pull your cat off the ceiling.
12. Damp down your cat with conditioner and use the pet tape to fashion a makeshift tourniquet or two. Ask the priest to call 911.
13. Rinse the cat off using the remaining jug of water.
14.  Pull the cat off of the priest's face.
15. Attempt to dry the cat off with the towels. Give up and let the cat out of the bathroom.
16. Remove the shredded plate mail and drink five fingers of whiskey while waiting for the ambulance to arrive.

Lime Rickeys in the Shade

Finding boldly colored plants that thrive in shade is not easy. Indeed, those among us addicted to vivid colors would be well advised to steer clear of shade gardening as its sedate shades of green, interesting textures and subdued floral colors tend to be a bit of a disappointment. Even though it would be a fib to say I don't like color, I do tend to prefer the less assertive pleasures of the shade garden. There's something about walking out into a dew-drenched patch of ferns first thing in the morning that makes the heart open up. All that being said, I was thrilled beyond measure last week when I stumbled upon something truly bold for part shade---Heuchera "Lime Rickey."

Oh what a delight this little fellow is with its vivid lime green to yellow foliage! Looking at my back yard from the second story, Lime Rickey shines out like a beacon in the midst of some fairly unremarkable spring foliage. It does the heart good to look upon such a cheerful color this early in the season. How pleasing it will look when it is out to compete with the abundance of fall flowers remains to be seen, but I look forward to the experiment.

Now for those of you who are  interested in some of the more technical aspects of the care and feeding of Heuchera "Lime Rickey", I can heartily endorse the following resources: For those of you living in the Sycamore/DeKalb area, I recommend the good people at Blumen Gardens. Their staff are amazingly knowledgeable, and you can often run into Joel and Joan Barzac (apologies if I have misspelled the name) while shopping, and do they ever know their stuff. For those of you reading outside my area, I like Growing Perennials in Col Climates by Mike Heger, Debbie Lonnee, and John Whitman, a book chock-a-block with practical tips and information.

A Kiss to Build a Dream On: 1.3

Kemp frowned; His long, pale fingers twitched on the top of the expensive leather briefcase, and he shifted in the office chair.

"As I said earlier, Mr. Leer, I am here on a matter requiring discretion. A week ago, Mr. Thayer discovered several photographs of an intimate and compromising nature had been stolen by this individual." Kemp removed a manila file folder from his briefcase and passed it to Leer, who surveyed the contents rapidly.

"Why does Mr. Thayer think this Jossi fellow is responsible for stealing the photos?"

"Aside from my client,  Stanford Jossi is the only other person who knew of the location of the photographs. They were kept carefully hidden."

"I see," Leer said, lighting his second cigarette of the conversation.

"It is paramount to my client that these photographs be recovered and destroyed. He fears," Kemp paused, his face blanching, "You may, perhaps, be aware that Mr. Thayer is to be married next month to the socialite Gwendolin Preston, heiress to the Preston canning fortune?"

Leer hadn't been, but he nodded anyway. The buzz from his earlier drink was evaporating, replaced by a dull ache behind his temples. "It's the so what that I don't get here, Mr. Thayer. Don't deny it. It's no use."

The man who had introduced himself as Kemp started and gasped. "How? It's impossible. How did you know?"

Leer rolled his eyes. "First off, everything of mine you've touched in this office, you handled through that fancy snot rag of yours. You're pale. Too pale. Your skin hasn't seen natural sunlight in ages. David Thayer doesn't have much of a rep in this town except as a germaphobe and a shut in. You're wearing an old suit. Five, six years old. It's seen wear. That's good, convincing, but it's a custom job. Very good make, too. Saville Row tailor. Made out of fine wool. Not good. It would have set you back a pretty penny. I don't see lawyers in this town spending that much money and wearing the suit that often. Major cases. If a lawyer owned that suit, it'd look new. Wearing a suit that expensive enough to make it look worn equals money. So does the manicure. And the Italian loafers. But the real kicker was the poker face. You don't have one. So you need to start playing it strait with me. What is at stake, Mr. Thayer."

"Her family would put a stop to the union at even the breath of scandal," he whispered, "Hospitality is about reputation. The Prestons have connections with all the right people. They have the power to make the Idlewilde a national name. They could also destroy it with a word. I need this marriage, Mr. Leer."

A Kiss to Build a Dream On: Chapter 1.2

Edward Leer looked down at the six inch pistol, which was indeed pointed at his liver, and then looked up into the pale, baby face of the man holding the gun. The stranger's gaze was steady and unblinking. His smile did not waver. In his other hand he held a leather briefcase. Leer made a mental note not to open his door while drunk again; he did not enjoy the idea of being found dead dressed only in an undershirt and a dirty pair of pants.

"That ain't the first heater I've had pointed at me," he said, "And I don't take too kindly to threats. Why don't you put away the piece, and we'll see if we can settle this. Whatever this is."

 The stranger's left eye twitched, "Very well." He slid the pistol back in the pocket of his trench coat and looked over Leer's shoulder into the cramped and filthy office. He drew a soft breath in through his teeth. "You first. Keep your hands where I can see them, and I'll do the same."

"Suits me." Leer walked back in and perched on the edge of his desk The blond stranger followed and then sat down in the worn out armchair facing the desk, placing the briefcase on his lap, and his palms flat on the top of the case.

"I'm all ears," Leer said.

"My name is Ernest Kemp. I am here on behalf of my client, David Thayer."

Leer nodded. "The hotel magnate. Owns the Idlewilde. I'm familiar. So what does one of the richest men in the city need with a two-bit private dick." 

"Please, Mr. Leer. I've read your dossier. A silver star. A reputation for integrity and competence while you were with the Chicago PD.  It's impressive. Even here you've developed a reputation amongst the right sort of people for professional excellence and, most important, discretion."

Leer watched Kemp as he looked around the office with thinly veiled revulsion and suppressed the impulse to toss him out on his ear. He lit a cigarette and mulled over the situation for the moment. Leer could think of no one who'd recommend his work to a society type like Thayer or any of Thayer's well payed minions. "OK, I'll bite," he said, "What's the case?"

 "It is a sensitive matter, Mr. Leer. I need to be assured of your complete confidentiality before disclosing any of the particulars. In short, I need assurance that you are in our employ now."

"Mr. Kemp, you are testing my patience. I'll hear you out. If we can come to an agreement. Great. If not, I'll refer you to someone who can help. You don't stay working in this business with loose lips."

A Kiss to Build a Dream On: Chapter 1

A half a block down, a lonesome El train sped down the overpass, rattling the windows and walls of the nearby fleabag apartments. It was gone in an instant but not without waking the portion of the neighborhood incapable of acclimating to the regular noise of rattling metal and wood and speeding engines.

Inside 1465 West Kemper, Apartment 13,  Edward Leer sat on the edge of the fold out cot that rested in the corner of his office, his eyes half closed and looking out of the window. Since before the crack of dawn, the rain had been coming down in steady, slow drops. A cold March rain, the kind that chilled men to the bone and had sent not a few soldiers home in body bags--victims of hypothermia and walking pneumonia. Mornings like these, Leer could still feel his own brush with mortality in France a few years back, weighing on his lungs like lead ingots. Sleep had eluded Edward that night, as it had many times in recent weeks.

He looked around the 200 square foot space that had served both as home and office for the past three months and took another swig of bourbon from his hip flask. You could only live with so much reality in a day. Edward looked to the manila envelope sitting on his desk. He had had his fill of reality for a while.

As the Bourbon finally started working its smoky tendrils into the detective's weary mind, a sharp strident rapping came from the wood and frosted glass door. Leer awoke from a doze with a jerk and snapped, "We're closed for business. Come back at a civilized hour."

The shadow behind the door paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder. "I'm afraid I have to insist, Detective Leer." The voice was soft, patrician, and laced with a melange of entitlement and irritation. "This is not a matter in which we have the luxury of time."

Leer swore under his breath and pulled himself off of the rusted, squeaking cot. He traversed the office in four long steps and flung open the door. A small, blond man dressed in a gray wool suit and matching fedora stood behind it, looking at Leer through muddy green eyes.
"Listen, pal," Leer said, "Sign says this here office opens at ten in the A.M. That's for everybody. Whatever it is you're heated up about ain't my lookout until I say it is."

The man's green eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "Look down," he said. "That's a Brevetatta. 22 Caliber. Not much, but fired into your liver it should do the trick." The blond stranger smiled an off kilter smile. "Is this enough to make my problem your problem, Detective Leer?"

Stones and Bones: Sherry Roland died last night.

Sad news.

Stones and Bones: Sherry Roland died last night.

The Pleasures of Being Sick

I hate being sick. The aches and pains, the exhaustion, the feeling of forced confinement all drive me to a state of high irritation. That being said, there are a few perks to being trapped at home by a fever and a raw throat--time to write and read, time to nap, freedom to drink as much honey lemon tea as I want. That sort of thing.

Yet sick time is frowned upon in the United States in a thousand little ways, from mandatory write-ups for those exceeding their one to three sick days, to the practice of perfect attendance awards in the public schools--as though a child could elect not to contract chicken pox or strep throat. We reward the healthy and punish the frail just as though we believed illness to be a moral choice. Not even the Puritans were so mean-spirited.

At the root of our feelings toward illness is, I believe, a cultural prejudice against idleness. Idleness tends to be looked upon solely as a vice by our culture (idle hands, after all, are the devil's playground) , but I would contend that a certain amount of idleness is necissary for anyone hoping to be truly productive and live a ballanced life.

It is my contention that anything  can become a vice when done to excess We need food to survive. Eating only becomes a vice when we are gluttons. We need work to support ourselves and to fulfill our potential, but if we neglect family in favor of career we are simply vicious. Just so idleness. People need fallow time in order to digest complex problems, to engage in lateral thinking, hell, just to recharge. Idleness only becomes a vice when it turns into sloth.

Anyway, that's my two cents. I'm going to go and be sick now.

I'm Back!

I'm sitting here in the living room nursing a cup of coffee and watching my cat ride my dog like a pony. There's not a whole lot rolling around in my head. It is Saturday morning , after all, and pleasantly cool to boot.

It's been a good long time since I have done anything with this blog, and for that I apologize. What with teaching a developmental reading class for the first time, re-designing my 097 writing class, researching web 2.0 apps for the classroom, teaching four classes, DMing on friday nights, and working on a few ongoing writing projects, my time for blogging has not been all that abundant. And I admit to being a reluctant participant in the weird yet wonderful world of the bloggosphere. However charming the medium may be, it does have the feeling of a chore at the end of a long day.

Anyway, enough with the lame excuses. It's my goal this spring and summer to spend a lot more time on this here blog. I am trying my hand at vegitable gardening, so I'll be blogging about that from time to time. Additionally, I plan on nurturing my (not so) inner geek a lot more with reviews of fantasy and sci-fi stuff along with the occasional snippet of my own work.

Well, all of this was probably a little too much thinking for one cup of coffee. I'm off to kill some dandilions. Huzza.