The Thief Within
13 Aug 2010 Leave a Comment
in Housekeeping, Writers Write Tags: family, writers, writing
When I was a child, my family took a road trip to Canada. Along the way, my dad had the car serviced.
The mechanic pointed to an apparatus under the hood. “What’s that?”
My dad said, “The air conditioner.”
“Hey Ralph! Come get a load of this. This guy’s got an air conditioner. Bet you feel like a fool for spending money on that?”
The air conditioner in my minivan went out this week. In San Antonio or Sauna Antonio, if you aren’t indigent and living under a highway overpass, your car has an air conditioner. Panicked that destitution would surely follow, Bacon led a convoy to a garage owned by a friend of a friend. Too late for business hours, we left my Mommy-mobile in front of the overhead door under a security camera.
Panic never pays. While we were gone, Lilly, the bird killing schnauzer, helped herself to an unsecured cheese pizza. Let me rephrase that. The dog ate her weight in cheese pizza. We came home to an empty box neatly propped against the leg of the kitchen table and a dog wider than she is tall.
Sheet Cake
08 Jul 2010 Leave a Comment
in Aha!, Housekeeping, Mouths of Babes, Writers Write Tags: perception, Trusting Your Instincts, writers, writing
Two nights ago, I couldn’t get the kids to sleep. Since I’m the mom, I don’t crash until they do. Bacon can nod off anywhere, anytime, through any form of natural disaster. Fortunately, he’s married to me. I wake at the sound of butterfly wings, spiderweb spinning, and a ten-year old’s insomnia.
That precise thing led to the eradication of box springs from our bedroom. What? You don’t rearrange the furniture when a family member can’t sleep? In a fit, I woke Bacon and demanded he remove the middle layer from our cake of a bed. I’ve written about my consternation over the Cake Bed before. I’m not sure why I didn’t see the solution earlier. It was always a pain to don climbing tackle just to get aboard each night. As an added bonus, the layerectomy completely feng shuied our bedroom. Now, the bed looks like it did twenty years ago in the furniture showroom. No matter how many different dressings I’ve applied, it never seemed right. Maybe, it was meant to be a platform and not a drum.
The next day, I searched the house looking for the girls. Their rooms were empty. The computer was off. The television was dark. I walked into my bedroom. Cherry reclined atop the fleece blanket reading a book. Beside her, Coco caught an afternoon nap.
Why are you in here?
It’s the most comfortable spot in the house.
Why now?
It’s the right size.
Heavy Cleaning
27 Apr 2010 Leave a Comment
in Housekeeping, Noxious Evils, Writers Write, cottage garden Tags: backyard pond, cottage garden, creativity, garden, loss, water garden, writers, writing
The people down the street owned one of those makeover-for-your-garage franchises. They ran the business out of their house. Other than the trucks, things were fine. At least, until they got ready to move.
That’s when the garage sales started. For three consecutive weeks, junk spilled out of the house and onto the lawn. It was obvious. They organized garages by taking the clutter home with them. At the end of the third week, a driver dodging a bookshelf, ran into a tree, cracking the largest limb into the street. Another neighbor called code compliance.
The garage experts are gone now, leaving a pile of unsellables by the curb. I made this out of some of their garbage.
Night Shift
08 Apr 2010 Leave a Comment
in Aha!, Goals, Housekeeping, Joined at the Heart, Writers Write Tags: family, garden, Trusting Your Instincts, writers, writing
The words have real meaning. Two weeks on days. Two weeks on nights. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. For a family, whose breadwinner finds work in the current economy, it’s a blip–barely an inconvenience, but still an adjustment. Here are ten things I’ve figured out:
- The trajectory of the job search coincides with the time I’ve been writing this book, two years and eight months. I’m not finished.
- I can live with the new schedule. I’m more confident every day.
- When I lose it because I’m lonely, overwhelmed, isolated or bored, working in the garden puts my head back on my shoulders.
- Writing at 5:45 a.m. keeps the self-loathing away. If Bacon can handle alternating shifts, I can get up early to write.
- Conversely, I have to go to sleep at 10:30 every night. Otherwise, 5:45 is impossible. I may not be on his schedule, but I still have to have one.
- The way I used to do housework is impossible. I can’t make a bed when he’s asleep in it, and cooking dinner at three in the afternoon is just dumb. No one will eat it. The learning curve is steep on domesticity.
- The flip side of the night shift is quiet. The kids go to bed, and I have time to think.
- Weekends are wonderful. They mean something again.
- Steady income.
- Two years and eight months ago, I wanted to write a book that would make readers think about what they believe. I get to do that every day.
Transitional Devices
15 Mar 2010 Leave a Comment
in Housekeeping, Joined at the Heart, Mouths of Babes, Writers Write Tags: family, writers, writing
We know a time is coming when we will be able to: replace the broken dishwasher, install a new garage door opener, buy organic. We aren’t there yet, but soon. Soon the Crispies will cash a paycheck and join the middle class again. It’s thought provoking. Transformational. But first, week two:
Bacon is a quality inspector for a major automobile manufacturer that will remain nameless because . . . this is my blog, and I don’t want a million hits from people mad about their brakes. There. I’ve said too much. He had a great week. We are happy and oh-so-relieved.
Coco is nervous. We’ve heard, “You have to play with me, let me pick the movie, buy me ice cream because I’m having eye surgery.” Always the opportunist, she is going to be just fine.
Cherry is happy to have spring break this week.
I have the next seven months of writing days scheduled. And. I have to figure out how to get wallpaper unstuck from the bathroom wall, so it can be painted. This is harder than seven months of writing. I’ve given up twice. I even bought a thimbleful of paint to see if it would cover the paper. It doesn’t. As soon as Coco has recovered, I’ll be exploring more options in wallpaper removal products.
I leave you with this thought: You know you are in transition when your husband accidentally puts Metamucil in his coffee. You know it’s serious when he drinks the coffee anyway.
crisp |krisp| adjective
