Heatwave

July has rolled in on a heatwave. Here in northeast New York state it is nothing like so many other parts of the country. Large numbers of homes are still without electricity following a severe thunderstorm south of us, in the mid-Atlantic region. Another storm blew through Tennessee and knocked out power a few days ago.

But global warming is a scare tactic of the liberal left. At least that is what the triple R threat would say.

Thank you for asking what the triple R threat is. (She types while trying to rub her hands in glee, which is pretty hard to do.) That would be the Religious Republican Right (or as we say in our household, the Religious Republic wRong). Let's ignore all signs that our raping and pillaging the earth for a selfish greedy needs might have something to do with the weather.

For too long the democrats have bent over backwards trying to find compromises--have tried to get along with others. Have we waited too late? I keep wondering what happened to all the idealistic youth of the 60s and 70s? Have they gone to old businessmen everyone? When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?!

Celebrate, celebrate, dance to the music...

Today is my middle daughter's birthday. She is celebrating to the max and we are celebrating right along with her.
To see her excitement is like seeing the excitement of a young child. However, she is twenty-five. A major milestone in more ways than one.
She reminds us that we should all celebrate every anniversary of our birth. But how many of us do?
I've had my share of birthdays I dreaded. My thirty-seventh birthday was one of my lowest days in my life. Sad to say, but I had two young girls and my hubby wanted another. I grieved for all the opera's I would never sing, I grieved as only a mother of young children can grieve when one of those children has major medical concerns.
Yes, that child I grieved for is the one celebrating today.
When she was born I looked into her eyes and knew I had just given birth to a child with Down syndrome. Of course in those first few days I thought as a nurse. "She's a Down's Syndrome baby. My life has just changed in a major way."
I withdrew into a very clinical way at looking at this baby and my grieving husband. I was just numb, but as long as I thought clinically I knew I could function.
There were pleasures that day. I found it ironic and funny that I managed to give birth right at the change of shifts. I had two shifts worth of nurses in the birthing room with us.
Maybe her first birthday was not a huge day of rejoicing, Sheila has been making up for it ever since.
Three weeks after she was born I was meeting with the geneticist. He wondered how it was that I had already moved through the stages of grieving into acceptance.
I told him that I was a pediatric nurse who loved working in areas like pediatric oncology, cardiology and peds ICU. I had a whole backlog of experiences which taught me that as disabilities go, Sheila had the Cadillac of disabilities. I knew I would have moments of grief during transitions in her life, but that we would be okay.
Since cardiac issues are so common in Down syndrome he wanted to send us to a pediatric cardiologist. Already I had learned that placing the diagnosis in front of the child was verboten in this new world of disability. I had also learned that since Langdon Down, the man the disability is named after, did not possess the disorder that it was now "Down syndrome" NOT "Down's Syndrome".
In three weeks I had come a long way from the numb mother of a newborn.
We saw the pediatric cardiologist and now we had a new fear. Our baby would probably not reach her fifth birthday and would certainly not reach her mid to later teens without open-heart surgery. Ideally, they would like to wait until she reached eleven pounds, but since it seemed highly unlikely she would reach it by the time she was six-months-old, they decided to set the surgery date for late October.
Now I really had something to worry about. And something to focus on. I'd better get to celebrating each and every day we had with her. Realistically, not every baby survived heart surgery--although the survival rate was much better than ten years earlier when I first met a child needing the same surgery.
We had celebrated each and every birthday of this young woman and I rejoice that she reminds us all of how we should celebrate each and every day of our lives.

Pink Slime and other random bits

Images of pink slime has been dancing in my head. If you haven't yet heard about the rage over pink slime it is made from fat and other dregs from beef (which includes spinal and rectal tissue according to Wikipedia). This former garbage is then zapped by ammonia gas and sold as "boneless lean beef trimmings" or "lean finely textured beef".

Yes, that's right, fat and other nasty bits of beef rendered and returned to market as lean finely textured beef. Only in America. Or is it happening in Europe, or down under, too? It is enough to make me gag. Apparently it made enough other people gag they started pushing back. Grocery chains heard the customers and have removed it from their ground beef products.

This, of course, means the industry has to shut down production. If you can't sell it you might as well stop manufacturing it. If you stop manufacturing it you have to start laying people off. In our economy that creates hardship. What I don't see happening are the producers asking themselves what useful product can we produce. No, instead the wealthy business owners go to their best friends--the politicians in their pockets. So our beef producing states have champions in the government. The governors and industry leaders are saying, "you don't get it," and pointing their fingers at reporters and their critics.

Rage, divisiveness and finger pointing is alive and well in America. Is it exhausting? Yes. One thing that boggles my mind are the number of my generation--the generation that protested so much in the sixties and seventies, including the establishment--are now the establishment.

Are there things happening around you that boggle your mind?

Oh, do share.

February Fail and Random Thoughts

I planned to try posting a blog at least once a month. Instead, I spent the time writing and now it is March 1st--already!

We were experiencing a winter with minimal snow, including a February with only 6/10ths of an inch of snow and then leap day arrived. With leap day came the snow. By dark we had about six inches of snow. By midnight we had at least another inch of snow and by daybreak we were up to 9 inches of the white stuff and it is still snowing.

The wild thing this winter has been the high temperatures ranging well above the norm. And Saturday will be no different. It is supposed to continue to snow throughout most of the daylight hours. Tomorrow (Friday) is supposed to be a typical 'seasonal' day--mid thirties to high thirties. By Saturday the temperature is expected to get close or top fifty degrees (F). That is quite mild for this time of year. We may get hit by another storm on Saturday, but this time it will be a rain event.

And goodby to winter--it was nice knowing you, even if you could only stay for a few days.

Nattering on about the weather was not my original plan when I started writing, but sometimes it does such unexpected things it is hard not to write about it.

What is your favorite time of year and how does weather play a role in it?

Success

At the beginning of this month I wrote about setting a goal:

• This year my goal is to write 1000 words per day. I set the goal on December 6th--okay, so that was still in the year of 2011, however, why quibble? I set the goal and so far, 33,369 words later, in less than a month, I am have reached a halfway mark on completing another manuscript.

This morning I wrote, The End, and closed the file. I will open it back up tomorrow and start the revising/rewriting process tomorrow. But 55,266 words later I met one goal--I kept at it, writing some days 1-3k words and other days struggling a bit.


Another writer I know shared a website 750words.com where a writer can write and not share his or her words. But there are built in rewards in the program. I have also been writing there every day since I found the website. I have managed to come up with three story ideas there, and copied and pasted them to a story idea file. So writing, creating the habit sometimes yields surprising results.

By no means does this mean the ideas and words will always flow because I'm doing this, but it is helping me right now. Is it Nora Roberts who has said, "You can't revise a blank page," or something like that?

So I write. Some of the words are dreck, but those are words that will never see the light of day. At least that's my hope. ;-)

Setting New Goals--Skipping Resolutions...

...Or should it be, Skipping Resolutions--Setting New Goals?

I seem to have a problem with remembering this blog. I write hit and miss here and would like to 'hit' more than 'miss' this year. However I will resist making a resolution about writing a new blog X number of times per month. For me, making a resolution is the best way to fail.

What is it about resolutions that create an automatic failure for me? I'm not sure, but years of failing to make it through January without bombing out on each resolution has taught me to look at making one goal for the year.

This year my goal is to write 1000 words per day. I set the goal on December 6th--okay, so that was still in the year of 2011, however, why quibble? I set the goal and so far, 33,369 words later, in less than a month, I am have reached a halfway mark on completing another manuscript.
So my goal for this year is to write 1K a day and try a blog a month.

Wish me luck!

Journaling

Years ago someone got me started with journaling. I kept my faithful journal in a 3-inch-3-ring binder. I still have several full binders. I was given the binder suggestion for the simple reason it was easier to add cards we received. We could add dreams, newspaper or magazine articles, anything that spoke to us could be added into this type of journal.

Since I had been keeping dream journals already for several years--I liked the idea of an expanded journal. This journaling suggestion came a few hears after I had my child with Down syndrome. I soon started writing articles about living with SC for our local Down syndrome newsletter. All of this was really an extension of my journaling.

Why am I thinking of this now? For some reason I have been reluctant to blog. But what is blogging? In some ways it is another form of journaling. Journaling might be a more private or more personal activity, however blogging for some seems pretty personal. It is a way of recording thoughts and feelings. So how about you do you express your innermost thoughts?

I'm sure I will reserve my most personal thoughts and feelings for my journal and yet, maybe, I can reframe blogging into an activity I do not resist so much.

Daddy, Tell Me A Story...

The editor’s buzzword--no phrase--is “show, don’t tell” [a story]. However, some authors tell their stories and do an excellent job of it. And little children often say to their parents, “tell me a story.”

They are not asking the parent to show them a story, although often enough a picture book comes out for cuddle time as the parent reads the story. When I was growing up we would ask our parents to “tell us a story” and that is what they would do. Some made-up, fanciful things and others based on events my dad lived through.

My dad road a bicycle over a log road through a swamp to get from his home town to a small community on the east shore of the popular Adirondack lake, Lake George, every summer from the time he was 12 to age 18. He would tell us stories from those boyhood experiences.

We came to know the stories by the fanciful titles like:

                                   

Searchlights And Swimming (a group of boys skinny dipping in the lake while the girls were left back on shore)

                                   

The Seeds Get in My Teeth (making homemade ice cream and licking the dasher)

                                   

One-Armed Bandit (illegal gambling activities)

                                   

Rum Runner At Eighteen (moving rum from Canada to communities in the US during prohibition)

                                   

Many of these stories had held a cautionary message. My dad was raised a Quaker--he never preached, he led by example.

Showing versus telling. My dad told stories and wrote them down. There are authors who are brilliant at telling along with showing a story. It creates a uniquely different voice from a story that is predominantly “shown” to the reader. Perhaps it is because of early ear training this unique blend appeals to me so much.

                                   

A story that is told can be uniquely wonderful.

                                   

Just sayin'... 

Happy 4th of July

Today was the first time in seven years I attended a parade. It was not just any old parade--the locale markets the parade as they second longest running parade in the US. It is off the beaten track in the little town of Springfield Center, NY (near famed Glimmerglass lake or Otsego Lake). There is a wide variety of participants in this parade and many people who come out to support it.

So why was I there?

Great question! Thanks for asking. I attended because my oldest daughter was marching in the only pipe band in the parade. There were other drum corps and marching bands in the parade, but Hobart's Pipe and Drums was the only bagpipe band in the parade.

There is something special about small town parades. Even if there are people from all over (even forty to fifty miles away) you feel connected to each other. Have you ever stood in a large crowd and felt anonymous--even when there are people there you know? This is nothing like that. People are greeting each other and you. They stop and chat, or lean forward in the chairs, look right at you and ask questions, make small talk. It's amazing.

When combined with July 4th (or Memorial Day) there is red, white and blue bunting--lots and lots of red, white and blue bunting. There are patriotic songs, flag waving and cheering. Children running to the front of the crowds grabbing candy that is tossed from floats. In fact the children run around with no one worrying about their child getting snatched by a stranger. It's so different from a parade in a city.

I haven't missed attending parades in the past seven years while my bagpiper attended school and dropped out of piping. But now that she's back at it, now I've missed the small town parades. It harkens back to an earlier time in our history. It allows a break from city dwelling and the worries associated with city dwelling.

And we could not have asked for a better day. Blue skies, plenty of sunshine, a nice breeze and no humidity. My wish for you is a day as glorious as this day turned out for me.

Do You Have a Passion?

What is your passion? Reading, writing, painting, drawing? Maybe it is singing, dancing, playing an instrument.

Ever since I can remember my life has been enriched by music and books. My father was a music teacher, church choir conductor and clarinetist. My mother played the violin. In fact, it was music that brought them together--when she was 15 and he was 20. They made sure all six of their children learned to play some instrument and some of us became proficient on more than one.

Living on a teacher's salary meant there was not a lot of extra cash, but they always found ways to make sure our lives were enriched by season lawn passes at a summer concert/ballet venue. We attended concerts, operas and ballets from a young age on through high school. What we did with this was up to us. Most of the six of us have continued to use our musical education in some way long into our adulthood.

I still enjoy classical music. I adore the cello (my primary instrument), I can play the guitar and bowed psaltry. I have also picked up some fiddle tunes. However when my youngest daughter started outplaying me on the fiddle by the time she was 12 years old I have pretty much set the fiddle aside.

This weekend we attended the 31st annual Old Songs Festival in Altamont, NY. It is a gathering of like-minded artists and patrons who spend a three day weekend together, attending workshops, informal and formal jam sessions, dances and concerts. My girls have attended all of there lives. Watching each one of them express their individual interests and make the experience "theirs" has been a delight.

Music has certainly been a constant love in my life, but so has reading and writing. Sometimes trying to find time for all of them has been a challenge. So, what is your passion? Tell me a little something about it, please.

Another month has flown past

Obviously I have not gotten into the routine of blogging. Major fail, or minor quirk?
I'm hoping it is a minor quirk.
How was the merry month of May for you? How did it come and go so fast? Our May started off unusually cold and rainy. Some nearby areas have seen major flooding and one area a few miles east had a tornado. Since there have been numerous devastating tornadoes it hardly seems right mentioning the nearby storm.
The thing is, we don't usually see tornadoes in the great northeast. Once and a long while the right weather phenomena occurs to create the right conditions, but it isn't usual.
Another unusual thing that occurred in May was the death of a co-workers child. Horrible, devastating. I am thrilled to report, we have an enlightened boss who closed our site for a bereavement day. Or maybe it was because she knew we would all want to be there for our co-worker when she had to bury her child. In any case, we had the day off.
What do you say to someone who is facing the worst thing possible? Parents are not supposed to bury a child--it is just wrong. What is there to say? I heard phrases like: "He is at peace now."
Really? How does that provide comfort?
Another phrase overheard was: "He has shed his broken body. Now that he is in heaven he can walk and run and play like any normal child."
Really? I wanted to smack the person.
I walked up to my co-worker wondering what do I say? I pulled her into my arms still wondering and hear her say, "You are the one person, I believe, that may have an inkling of the pain I am in."
She has often alluded to the fact that we are/were raising children with disabilities and we belonged to this special, different sisterhood.
When my daughter was so very ill at the end of March, I had a few hours of severe worry that she would not survive. It was nightmare-frightening. Maybe I do have an inkling of the pain she is in, but it is not the same. I sure have been hugging my girls a lot more in the past week.
I ache for my friend's pain and her loss.

Where Did April Go?

Does anyone know where the past month went? I slid into April with fear dogging my footsteps. My middle daughter's recent illness and hospitalization shook me more than I would like to admit. Especially since she was left with episodic spiking temperatures and a painful pleural rub. But she has finally turned the corner. Her energy level is back up to normal and she is managing her hectic schedule well.

I finally managed to pack up all the Christmas village houses, the tiny people and drag the many boxes up to the attic. Yes, I was really behind with this task. The task was completed during spring break. Holy week--the week before Easter. A holiday that was very this year. I planned to get writing done that week and I did, some. Precious little as it were.

We are now into May. Officially it is Mother's day weekend, which is always the second Sunday of the month. It is as early as Easter was late this year. We still had a frost threat this past week. This is discouraging me from going out to get bedding plants--a tradition of this weekend.

I am out of sorts, waiting for our weather to reflect the season and waiting for my 'grumbles' to go away. Perhaps I should find something proactive to do. In the meantime if you know where April went to, would you please let me know?

The Fragility of Life

Certain events remained us of the fragility of life--sometimes they are personal events and sometimes they are events outside of our normal life.

This week the two converged for our family.

I have a daughter with three life-threatening medical conditions. Most of the time I don't give them a thought, but when she gets sick she gets so sick so quickly I am reminded of her fragility. She is slowly recovering from a throat infection that soon extended into her main bronchus and further into her lungs.

The tsunami that hit the northeast coast of Japan remind us in the fragility of life in a less personal way. At least it is less personal for our family. For the families living or losing loved ones through this tragedy, it is very personal. As we watch horrifying images streaming in I realize for some, less than six minutes was all it took for lives to be consumed by the voracious hunger of a cruel wave.

What are you doing to take care of you and yours?

Lessons my middle daughter taught me...

You have taught us a lot about strength.

            Your first demonstration of this was your fight for life. With every tiny ounce of your being, you fought to live before your open-heart surgery. You have continued to fight for life with each diagnosis.

            You’ve taught us how to be strong in seeking the best for you.

You have shown us that initiative and drive are not solely granted to the most gifted. You repeatedly demonstrate these qualities, plus you demonstrate sensitivity. You are always the first to respond to another’s pain in our family.

You have taught us it is foolish to take anything for granted. We have an obligation to ourselves to explore every opportunity given us. 

You have repeatedly shown us examples that “retarded is not stupid, mom.”

You have an uncanny ability to separate the wheat from the chaff—showing us what is really important: life, love and happiness.

You create your own happiness, not depending on others. You are an excellent example of living in the ‘here and now’—better than anyone else we know. Your lack of worry about the past or the future is sometimes a real blessing.

Some might consider you 'simple', but those of us who know you, love you all the more for what you give to us. 

You are a daily reminder of unconditional love. You love all of us no matter how flawed we might be.

You remind us that we can govern our own happiness, especially when you tell us, "Guess what? I'm so happy." 

Thank you for being you. You have enriched all of our lives.

Starting all over again

I managed to complete a manuscript, first draft, a second run through, spotting some things that needed to be brought forward, fleshing out some other spots. Send the manuscript to my CP and wait. Wow, she was speedy with the return and then there is the next run through. Having a CP that works fast, sees the things I missed and makes salient points is a blessing.

But now comes the hard part. The waiting. Does anyone like this part?

Since I had an extra day off today (thank you broken water main) I used the time to clean up the MS, complete the synopsis and query letter and out the door. Off on the wings of the ethernet. Feeling extra energetic. I cleaned up another MS that was just waiting for reformatting and I managed to get that one out the door, too, today to another publisher.

Does that make the waiting easier? Harder? Or no different?

Two out the door means I need to start on a new project--at least I have several files with some research completed. New promises, new beginnings...

It is time to start all over again.

To Blog or Not To Blog

That is the question. Why should I blog? Do I have any words of wisdom? If you ask my kids you'll probably hear, 'no'. But perhaps not, my kiddoes are now all young women. It is possible my wisdom is returning as they are aging.

As an aspiring writer should I blog? Some authors would say it is not needed. Not until I am a published author. Other authors, particularly authors involved in e-publishing, suggest it is essential to blog and to have a website.

I am here. I write because I have something to say. I blog with a certain amount of reluctance, a little like navel gazing. But here am I, joining the multitude of other aspiring writers who are out here in bloggersville staking their claim.