Monthly Archives: August 2007

Ping!

Guess what just landed in my inbox? The first of the two revised files to edit! And I get to start all over again! This isn’t a simple cut and paste; this is a full-version reworking.

I am so very glad this complete reworking is through no fault of mine; it appears the translators only did a portion of the full file at first. The work I did before on the original version of these two files isn’t completely useless, it’s just… a small fraction of the larger file. The original file isn’t a unified chunk of the larger file, either; it’s fragmented and scattered all the way through the file as a whole. It will take a week to edit, and the only reason it’s a week instead of two is because I have the first full file to refer to (which took me two weeks on its own back at the beginning of July).

Well, a week for this file and a week for the one that will soon follow. It’s all money for my time. One must cog in order to buy kibble and Cheerios, after all.

That Writing Thing

Last week I found myself writing down interesting words that I came across in order to spur writing at a future date, ending up with a page of completely unrelated but fascinating and mysterious words. This was generally as close to writing as I got. One of those days I wrote a new paragraph in Wings & Ashes, the story I’ve been trying to work out this month. Then we were visiting family for four days, and I never get writing done there.

Today, however, upon hearing some news, I found myself handwriting a 700-word scene. Like W&A I’m not going to transcribe it to computer immediately, and if I did I wouldn’t share it because it’s very triggery for people with/who have family members with fatal illnesses. It’s just a scene to tuck away somewhere. The last page needs reworking because I said the same thing three different ways — basically because the narrator needs to work it out and restate it three different ways in order to understand it, but still, what’s sauce for the character is not necessarily sauce for the reader.

Am writing. Go me. (Cautiously, of course, because one mustn’t scare the idea pigeons away.)

Also done today: laundry, sweeping, finishing Jasper Fforde’s latest, First Among Sequels (O how I love Fforde with much love!), and picking up that parcel (two of the four used books in it are slim and I have basically already gone through them as they are NF/reference-type books that I now may never read again, sigh). Huh. When I write it all out it sounds more impressive.

Home Again

We’re home from the wilds of southern Ontario, tired, achy, trying to settle back into daily life. The cats were thrilled to see us in their own ways, Maggie following us around and Cricket hiding behind the TV; Nixie was being ill and very sorry for herself, but it serves her right from climbing up onto the kitchen counter and stretching to nibble the lowest shoots of the spider plant. I came home with a pile of historical fiction and non-fiction from my mother and Liam came home with new trains. As usual we didn’t get to do half of the things we’d planned to do, which is sigh-inducing as some of it has been put off over the past couple of trips as it is. We did get to spend time with my cousin and his family, which was really great, as was the food (as always). The weather was lovely, and the drive down was excellent (only one stop! not too hot!), with the drive back feeling twice as long and cranky, as usual.

We’re catching up on phone messages and e-mail, so please be patient with us. I see Liam’s monthly post didn’t go up as I thought it had, so I’ve manually published that too. Some of the news waiting for us has not been so good, and our thoughts are with certain friends in hospital themselves or with family members there instead.

Naturally, the postman attempted delivery of a box of books hours after we left on Friday and is now languishing at the post office. Although that cheque I’m waiting for hasn’t arrived, and is now a week later than when cheques arrived on average when I was working in-house. Hmph.

I met Charlize this morning, and oh my goodness, I had forgotten that a six week old baby is very tiny. Such wee feet! Such feathery eyebrows!

Twenty-Six Months Old!

It is becoming increasingly apparent to us that we have a child instead of a baby, a child who can hold conversations, communicate abstract concepts, and with whom we can negotiate instead of legislate.

Among his favourite books these days are My Working Mom, Seuss’s In a People House (which he can read almost all of, so long as a parent supplies some of the connecting text), and Fish Wish. He reads the action depicted in pictures, describing what’s happening, often with snatches of actual story text interspersed. Lately he’s taken to running his finger along underneath certain words and saying the word itself. He’s not actually reading it, although it’s the first step: he’s recognising that these letters in this sequence means a particular word. Words that are mostly similar, such as ‘fish’ and ‘wish’, fascinate him. Compound words like ‘starfish’ and ‘jellyfish’ are very interesting as well.

His current favourite film is The Incredibles, although Lilo & Stitch is a close second. On Saturday mornings we sometimes allow him to watch Kids’ CBC on TV, so he has discovered and loves Arthur (which is fun because HRH worked on the show), enjoys Lunar Jim, and gets up and dances to the Doodlebops.

Among the new words in his vocabulary are enormous, cheeseburger, we, I, burgundy, too and also, sea anemone, trailer, whatever, Benjamin (as in Peter Rabbit’s cousin), and “yes, Mother” (a direct quote from the animated Tom Kitten story). If you ask him if he’d like something, he pauses for a moment then says “Ahhhhh…” as if he’s considering it, followed by a perky “okay” or “no”. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ are used nine out of ten times, and without prompting (including when he and his younger cousin were racing around and around his grandparents’ house and he accidentally ran into a chair: he bounced, blinked, said “I sorry!” and kept on going). If we get in the car he asks, “Listen to Cars music too, now, please, again?” Sometimes we say sure, and other times we say that we need to take turns when we’re in the car and Mama or Dada wants to listen to something else for a change.

In his world, every computer is connected to the Pixar website and can immediately play Pixar trailers. Except Grandad’s computer; it shows plane and train pictures instead.

He’s taken to going into the pantry and surveying what’s available before requesting what he wants for breakfast. Lately oatmeal with added raisins and a swirl of maple syrup is his thing, spurred early this week by seeing the new bag of oatmeal on the shelf. (He asked for the raisins with it; I offered the syrup.) He spoons the stuff up with great gusto and eats it in no time flat, only asking for parental help to chase the last bits of oatmeal around the edges of the bowl. At his grandparents’ house he fell in love with organic kamut flakes, and I can’t blame him: they’re sweeter and crispier than regular cornflakes. After warning him away from the green tomatoes in the back garden and waiting impatiently for them to ripen, I gave him half a red cherry tomato this week and he spit it back out again. Blueberries may be the most awesome part of August; peaches, not so much. I made homemade cherry popsicles and he loves them. Sauteed mushrooms over pasta with freshly grated cheese tossed with a bit of butter is the best meal ever. He has definitely discovered doughnuts, and they are the food of the gods. Chocolate milk is a huge treat when we’re out. He drinks from a regular glass at the table, and only uses his booster seat when he’s in a particularly active mood and we need him to sit in one place for a bit.

He asks for crayons by specific colour. Circles are his newest favourite thing to draw. When he colours in an outline drawn by one of us or in a colouring book he no longer scribbles randomly: he colours very specific portions of the image. Red may be his favourite colour, followed closely by blue, if the frequency of the request for a crayon of that colour is any indication.

When he leaves somewhere he says goodbye to everything he can see (and can’t see), including ‘up’ and ‘in’ and ‘out’. He played in a big pool for the first time this month with his caregiver, and after resisting it he fell in love with it. He loves to play soccer and kicks the ball around the yard, and he likes flopping over a swing on his stomach to swing back and forth while staring at the grass. Lying on our stomachs and watching ants is still a great way to spend twenty minutes or so. He’s so good at walking while holding someone’s hand now that we can walk through stores instead of locking him in a stroller or a shopping cart.

We appear to be raising a small geek (which will come as no surprise to most, I’m sure). Not only can he recognise Superman and Spiderman along with their associated logos, he appears to have absorbed the Doctor Who revival as well. This will amuse PDaughter:

GRANDMA: [speaking of her sister] … so I made her go see the doctor

LIAM: The Doctor!

GRANDMA: Yes, Liam. Do you like your doctor?

LIAM: The Doctor! Sonic!

(As in, a sonic screwdriver. The one used by Doctor Who. Yeah. Grandma was mildly baffled.)

He “sings” along to songs on movie soundtracks, echoing repeated or random phrases in the song, and inserting movie dialogue at the appropriate places. When he hears tracks from a film score he can describe what’s going on in the film at that time, making him the only person I know who can visualise and identify musical cues better than I can.

He wears size 3T shirts, 2T pants, size 5 diapers, and size 3/4T pullups. Toilet training is going so well that I bought him his first set of underwear last week, which he wears with great pride and excitement in the late afternoons and evenings. He’s barely fitting into his size 6 1/2 shoes, and has worn through the toes of his racecar sneakers. Good thing we have a pair of size 7 sneakers in the wings.

Maybe it’s because our friends all have bright kids who are being raised in a similar fashion, but to me Liam doesn’t seem any different from them developmentally. And yet I’m told by people who work with kids not associated with our circle of friends that Liam is unlike other children his age. Whatever. He’s Liam to us. He is normal for who he is. We read to him; we communicate basic values like responsibility and sharing and turns and respect and courtesy; we insist on a regular early bedtime, naps, and toothbrushing; we share time with him and ask questions and talk to him. And if that makes him unlike the average kid, then I don’t know that it’s the kid in question who’s different, or the parents.

Daily Meh

Despite the fact that we’re away this weekend, I did a huge grocery order this morning. We do need to eat before we leave, and there’s nothing worse than coming home to an empty fridge and pantry. A hundred dollars goes way, way too depressingly fast in the supermarket. And the cheque for the urgent work I did in July did not arrive today, which is disappointing because HRH gets paid after we come back. The credit line is my fridge’s friend.

However, the price of gas here just dipped under a dollar per litre, so that’s good news.

I’ve been beating my head against this story I’m working on, and against pretty much everything in progress. None of my writing interests me and hasn’t for a while now, which is bad. And the last thing I need to do is start something new, which just perpetuates and/or exacerbates the problem. Not that there’s anything new knocking at my brain. I feel so disconnected from the creative process these days. All the tricks I recommend to people because they generally work — free writing, working on character sketches in various ways and so forth — do nothing for me and never have, mostly because I can’t shake the feeling that they’re a waste of the time and energy I could be using to do Real Work. Not that any Real Work is being done these days, or that this stupid perception is true, but that doesn’t change my inability to work with those kind of exercises. I just can’t get excited about my work.

It’s a slump. It will pass, eventually. When? I have no idea. In the meantime I’ll keep trying.

Amused

The P&P 2005 film is brilliantly snarked scene by scene by Redcoast over at the Recapitulate LJ community. (Better late than never; this dates back from 2006.)

Pride Ampersand Prejudice part 1
Pride Ampersand Prejudice part 2
Pride Ampersand Prejudice part 3

[…]Three miles leaves a lot of space between the two houses, and it’s just good luck that they chose the same route and didn’t miss each other. Was Darcy planning to walk all the way to Keira’s house, even though he has horses, and knock on the door, and be, like, “Hey, is Keira home?” Because they’d be, like, “Nah, she had a fit and we think she’s ran off. By the way, your aunt is an asshole,” while staring curiously at his state of undress. And then Keira will knock on Netherfield’s front door, and the butler will be, like, “No, Mr. Darcy’s up and disappeared. Nice nightgown, miss. You single?” Embarrassment for both. Besides, if Keira were home, then what kind of impression is Mr. Darcy leaving her family with? I love you so much I proposed to you while only three-quarters dressed? That’s like proposing while wearing sweat pants. […]

Weekend Roundup

This is what happens when I am not online for any more than two brief moments for four days running: I sum things up in a very long post.

The boy stayed home with me yesterday because he had the developings of a nasty chest cold. He was fine other than the occasional chesty cough that didn’t disturb his nap or sleep, so we dosed him with Triaminic and it was pretty much gone by this morning. We had a great day together, though, especially since it stormed all morning and HRH came home.

We had another terrific weekend, with lots of family involved. The weather was beautiful, sunny and not humid at all. We took advantage of it by driving out to Finnegan’s Market in Hudson on the Saturday morning, and going to the Highland Games on Sunday. At both we met the Preston–Leblancs (the former unplanned, the latter a-purpose!), and Liam was in absolute heaven spending time with his godsister, whom he adores with every fibre of his being. At the market he asked if he could get out of the stroller and hold her hand, and after ascertaining if this was all right with her we set him free. He calls holding hands “pulling so-and-so’s hand”, and he’s not far off because when he moves he runs and ends up literally pulling the hand of whomever he’s walking with. The two of them trotted around the market together looking at various things, and she was wonderful with him, reminding him not to touch certain things and keeping him within certain boundaries. He was heartbroken when it was time for her to go home, and his tears upset her so much that she asked to pat his back to help make him feel better. When he saw her at the Highland Games the next morning he was thrilled and they got to run around together again, the boy heading around the track with great determination and a huge grin as he gripped her capable five-year-old hand. She introduced him to the concept of inflatable playgrounds and bounced around with him to his incredulous delight (“Liam bouncy-bouncy!” he chortled over and over). He clapped and danced like a mad thing to the pipers practising near one of our shady sit-down spots, was very impressed by the snare drummers, didn’t jump at all this year when the cannon went off to open the games (“Big BIG bang!” he informed the people around us, however), applauded the massed bands a lot, and entertained the masses by dancing madly to Kitchen Party as they did a sound check and warm up in the beer tent. He really is the best kind of audience: not only did he dance with great vigour and glee, he applauded every time they stopped (which was frequent, as it was sound check after all). Now that I’ve found the Bramble House I don’t need to stock up on the UK candy and foods available for sale at the games, and since I can’t wear silver any more except for short periods of time there’s no point in looking at the jewellery either, so the only stall I look for among the vendors is the one that sells meat pies. And as we were there so early this year they actually still had them in stock and there was no lineup, so I finally got to eat one! It was tempting to buy extra and freeze them, but we really didn’t have the money to do it.

This is the second and last time he wore the tiny kilt my maternal grandfather brought back for me from Edinburgh when I was a baby; it was a just-fit this year and will be too small for him this time next year. (I am assuming this based on the insane rate at which he grows. We may all yet be surprised, I suppose.)

This year we went early in the morning and ended our visit with the massed bands, which was an excellent plan and we’ll do it again next year. It avoids the really hot part of the day and the crowds that accumulate later. Usually we begin our day with the massed bands at the opening ceremony around noon, but with Liam’s strict nap schedule that wasn’t feasible this year. Even holding out till the opening ceremonies at twelve-thirty was pushing it, but he had enough to keep him distracted and busy (see above re. the dancing in the beer tent!). He fell asleep in the car on the way home around one-thirty and we transferred him to bed without mishap. After he woke up we headed out to see the local grandparents who had just returned from a two-week trip to Cape Breton (“Presents!” exclaimed the boy upon seeing the gifts awaiting us, although he was much more interested in the Mega Bloks crane than the scotch and the stained glass and the pretty little earrings we got). We were fed delicious steaks and salads and sent home with leftovers.

After Liam’s nap on Saturday afternoon we went out and picked up Eva at the music store (“Music store?” said Liam, perking up as he remembered the trip two days earlier. “Pulling Mama’s hand to the music store?”). She has lovely new flatwound strings (thirty-four dollars; I laughed and laughed and laughed), a strap (finally! — although I have to cinch it as small as possible), and a basic gig bag with lots of pocketses (also thirty-four dollars, at which price I also giggled madly, because this stuff is blessedly cheap compared to my cello outfitting). I also have two picks with which to experiment. I didn’t go into the whole suggestion of alternate tuning right off the bat, because over the past couple of weeks as I play it I’ve realized that the basic tuning enables certain playing patterns, which while irritating to stretch and shift and play on the cello are in fact stunningly easy to play on the bass. There has been a lot of “Ohhhhhh, I get it” happening as I work through chord sequences.

I’ve been sleeping better (all hail herbal insomnia pills!), but I’m still struggling with what feels like unfounded frustration and the occasional shimmering rage that pops up with no discernible trigger. This disturbs me, particularly since I’m extremely not prone to rage, and I’ve been trying to work it all out. The sleep and lovely weekend helped, but I’m feeling cautious, and really, there’s nothing that puts a damper on relaxing or just trying to do everyday stuff like feeling as if you’re being stalked by something like rage. I’ve been feeling uninspired by the August Writing project and have been writing a few sentences longhand here and there, but it feels mechanical and I don’t like not enjoying writing. I think what I need is a vacation, a real one, not just driving out of town to see family for a few days, because while that is enjoyable it is not relaxing. The problem with any vacation is, as t! pointed out to me once, you don’t get away from yourself, which is part of my problem I think.

I did get to bill for both projects I worked on in July, which was very pleasant and will no doubt go far towards alleviating some of the frustration (because finances are always frustrating, particularly when one has friends complaining about not being happy with things we would love to have and can’t). I’m hoping the first arrives before we leave for Toronto this weekend.