Owls' Court

Liam Update

Liam had his first round of vaccinations today. He was wonderful, with a minimum of fussing and almost no tears. It turns out he has blood like his da's -- it's thick and clots quickly.

And we now have grape-flavoured Tylenol drops to add to our smorgasboard of cherry vitamin D drops, and whatever the iron drops taste like, and the mint Ovol drops. Thumbs up on the Tylenol from Liam: he smacked his little lips for about four minutes after HRH gave it to him. It's funny how we don't have to cultivate a taste for sweet things in our babies -- they seem to accept it right away.

Ick

I hate bringing contract stuff to someone's attention. I feel... mercenary.

But working without one is just really bad business.

Rain, Rain, Rain

I love rain, but the amount of water that's been in the air over the past few days has made everything wet inside. You sit down on the couch -- it's damp. You pull your jeans on in the morning -- they're damp. You grab a towel to dry your hands or face -- it's damp. And the damp makes the air feel cold, but you can't put on a sweater because it's too heavy against the skin.

Ick.

We're keeping a close eye on the garage today, as it flooded a month or so ago after the last major rainfall. HRH has since dug out the drain at the bottom of our sloped driveway, and so far so good. All the boxes were put up off the floor on bricks and boards last night, just to be sure.

And the other drawback to all this water in the air is that my hair is frizzing like crazy. Argh.

Better Now

I had a massage today, and wow, what a difference. One never really understands how tense one is, because the muscles get just a wee bit tighter every day. It's not like it all of a sudden happens, all at once: that you'd notice.

Colleen is the only person I know who can massage my feet without making me want to kick.

Thanks, little sister. I needed it.

Not A Good Day

I woke up frustrated and stressed and on the verge of tears.

And for no reason in particular, which irritates me even more.

And it's not going away.

Grr, grr, grr.

Not Dead (Again)

Excellent weekend of the relaxing sort. Friday night I got out to the CMS open house, where I reconnected with lots of students and fellow teachers and friends. Kick-ass band rehearsal Saturday afternoon. Lovely late party-dinner that night out at my in-laws' place for my father-in-law's sixtieth birthday. Sunday saw all three of us enjoying a nice lie-in, then a trip out to pick up a couple of essentials at the pharmacy and ice cream. If Liam keeps attracting this much attention, I will begin to charge admission. Thank goodness HRH is patient with strangers because I'd be driven crazy if I were the only one who could field the same questions and comments over and over.

I got an e-mail from the line editor this morning saying that she was working on my GRW manuscript, which provided a nice relief to my fretting. I still have no idea when it will actually fall in my in-box, or what the turnaround deadline will be, but at least I know it won't come in today and probably not tomorrow, possibly not till next week as I'm leaving for the long weekend very early Friday morning. She says my so-called "sloppy" MS is still in better shape than most work she sees. I cringe anew at the unprofessionalism of authors, then.

I'm still doing that once-over of The Moments of Being Pandora. To my surprise and pleasure, it's still good. And I'm also still turning over the new and very sketchy idea for attaining plot resolution in my brain. I don't hate it yet, which is good. And it appears to all hang together. Now it just needs serious development to make it a viable ending, and then I have to write it. I wonder if I can get it done before November. Or if I'm even doing NaNo this year. If I decide not to, then I may just save it to write it during November anyway. It may not be a 50K project, but it will be fun to write with others anyhow.

Late Saturday night/early Sunday morning while feeding Liam, I picked up my spellcraft book and read the first two chapters. Not bad. There are a couple of places where there are statements which appear without a lot of context, and then I remembered that a lot of my supporting explanations and developments were cut out because I was told the statements stood on their own. I guess I'm just hung up on explaining myself. It's not that I don't think people won't get it, I just don't want them to misunderstand. Apparently I must lick the habit and appear more confident. And maybe trust my readers a bit more. I can do that while writing fiction, but NF, well, I just want everyone on the same page before I go off and introduce stuff based on the basic info.

There. Now you know I'm not dead. Liam is well, and has been back to sleeping regular naps since two days after the not-sleeping post. I think it was the humidity, frankly. And he's officially a rolling menace: he managed to push himself off the couch, and then off the nursing pillow this weekend. No bumps, no bruises, just a new resolve to leave him in his basket if he's not in someone's arms.

Oh, and the annual allergy celebration has finally hit. I have to make sure there's a Kleenex box near every place I sit or work.

And Then There Was Light

I read two disparate words in a sentence written by someone else.

And now I know the how of the bad guys in The Moments of Being Pandora. And I can finish writing the book.

Sometimes, I really love that creative leap of logic.

Health Update The Second

Gulliver is fine.

Sheesh.

Actually, the vet thinks that because of his age, his kidneys may be weakening and failure may be somewhere in his future. So HRH brought him home, and we will continue to love him, and somewhere down the line if the symptoms the vet warned us about manifest, then we will have to say goodbye and thank you for all the love and purrs, and send him to the Summerland where he can leap and play in tall grass, stalk as many mice and rabbits and birds as his heart desires, and sleep in sunbeams that never move.

But one must do that eventually with any pet, and Gully is fifteen years old, for heaven's sake.

If You Pull The Plastic Thing Out Of Your Mouth And Throw It Across The Room, You Must Expect To Not Be Able To Suck On It, and How Many Times Have We Shown You How Convenient And Delicious Your Hands Are Instead?

And if anyone knows of a way to communicate this to a two and a half month old child who is kicking up a fuss because the soother is no longer available to him and he's forgotten the wonder of fingers, do please share.

Guilty Pleasures

So I'm on chapter 4 of the quick-once-over of The Moments of Being Pandora before I send it over to mousme.

Yeah, yeah, I know I said I oughtn't, but on top of being a writer I'm an editor with red ink flowing through my veins, and there's no way I'm letting one of my literary children out of this house without a final proofing. So sue me.

'Sgood. 'Sbetter than I remember it being.

I've already caught over a dozen stupid spelling mistakes that Word doesn't catch through a spellcheck because your typo creates a legitimate word... just not the word you wanted to use.

Fret Fret Fret, and Thinking About Books

Still no edits.

I've been fretting about this. I'm worried they'll land in my inbox with a "we need this tomorrow" note attached.

No, of course it won't happen, and I know that. Besides, every time I've received edits in the past the line editor says, "We'd like them back by this date; if that's a problem let us know and we'll rearrange the schedule a bit".

Since I'm burnt out in the alternative spirituality field, I've been thinking about the two YA novels I have on my hard drive. I believe that this fall I'd like to send out a couple of queries. Mousme has asked to read The Moments of Being Pandora even though it's unfinished, and she'll be the first to see it. Now I want to go through it and polish it up before I send it, which I must not do even though I'm squirming over some bits with holes and other bits which really need to be toned down, or she'll never get it.

But having three published (or soon to be) books under my belt has really helped with having confidence in sending out queries. I know the books I've done are NF, and the YA books are fiction, but still -- I've proven I can write and submit a proposal, refine it in partnership with an editor, write to a deadline, and basically handle all aspects of book creation and editing with skill and professionalism.

Hey, there's a bunch of somethings to add to my list of things to be proud of.

Three Days Becomes Three Weeks

The appendix is FINALLY finished.

And now, of course, it's time to go feed the baby again.

Health Updates

Liam weighs 8 lbs. He's officially gaining a pound every two weeks. He goes in for his vaccinations next Wednesday.

Gulliver is not well.

HRH and I have headaches more often than not. I'm assuming this has to do with broken sleep, forgetting to eat, and the current pressure system that's been sitting here for the past couple of days.

And although it has nothing to do with health, it will in the future: still no sign of my GRW edits.

Liam Update

We put together the baby swing my cousin passed along to us on Saturday, and we've discovered that it puts Liam to sleep. I'm incredibly thankful, because the poor little kid has been desperately overtired and in a dreadful state by noon the past couple of days because he hasn't been falling asleep after he wakes up at six, and doesn't nap until sevenish. At the age of two months (or two weeks, whichever way you choose to calculate his age), one should not have to be awake for thirteen hours. One really needs one's sleep. It's so hard to watch a tiny baby scream because he's tired, and know that he's at the point where he's overtired and can't fall asleep. Nothing you can do but cuddle them and walk them and feel terrible for them. So the swing is a wonderful new addition to the household furniture, and I'll cheerfully replace the four D cell batteries as required if it helps him get the sleep he needs.

And because a couple of people have asked about the formula experiment: he takes it well enough, but it's not something we want to keep doing. To be perfectly honest, the baby's smell changed. Not just his diapers -- his actual baby smell altered, and I didn't like it at all. The two doses of formula were enough for me to catch up with him again, so we're back on track. The remianing three cans of ready-to-serve formula are in the pantry as emergency back-up, but they'll only be used if we absolutely have to.

We've begun to use his change table, and we put the new Beatrix Potter mobile my mother sent him up on it so that he can watch it and listen to the music while we change him. So far, it's calmed a couple of nasty 'I'm overtired and I don't want to be changed' crying sessions. The crib is now cleared and ready for emergency nap use, because it's easier to shut out the light in Liam's room than in our bedroom where his AmbyBed is. (Of course, the swing may be the nap-place of choice for the next while; we'll see.)

Apart from his first ritual yesterday, he went out to a kitchen dinner and hang-out with a few assorted friends on Saturday night, and was terribly good there as well. He's so good in the car, and so long as there are people to cuddle him, well, life's okay when doing the social round.

He's getting heavier every day. Although there was a time when even his preterm clothes were big on him, he's now growing out of them. The footed sleepers don't fit him any more, and I think there's only a week or so of wearing the tiny onesies left. We have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, so we'll see how big he's grown then.

Desert

We had a coven meeting today, and had our first ritual here in the new house. The summer just isn't an ideal coven time; I think we may institute an official sabbatical during July and August, because vacations and weekend trips and such just end up getting in the way of any sort of scheduled activity. Of course, this summer has been unusual in that we moved and had a baby, which ate up May through July. One imagines all summers will not be like this.

One of our coveners wrote a self-celebration ritual designed to encourage personal pride when she was a dedicant, and it was such a success last year when we did it that the coven decided to make it an annual ritual around the full moon every August. Today was the second time we did this ritual. Part of the ritual entails making a list of ten things you're proud of -- achievements, talents, skills, anything goes. To my complete surprise, I found that list incredibly difficult to make, unlike last year.

But your first book was published this year! the other coven members said. You wrote two more in the last seven months! You had a baby! You're a great teacher! You're a fantastic author of both fiction and non-fiction!

But I don't feel any of that. None of those were accomplishments that I felt belonged on my list of things for which to pat myself on the back.

Working through this block during the ritual showed me a couple of things. First of all, it showed me that I've become so numb to my day to day life that I've forgotten how to appreciate my own talent. Second, it very bluntly illustrated to me that pulling off a miracle a day breeds familiarity and contempt for those miracles. I didn't feel that any of those things were special. I didn't feel that I was special.

Now I look at the list I finally created and think, heck, yeah! I should be proud of all that! But during the exercise itself I felt so listless and dull that nothing seemed to deserve celebration. Writing well? Not me. Not that I can remember. In fact, in my recent experience my writing ability has downright offended me with its poor product. And as for the other items the coven listed for me, it didn't make sense to celebrate things that were commonplace. One might as well put I got out of bed today on the list. (Although one of my coveners pointed out, and quite correctly, that on some days getting out of bed is indeed an accomplishment.) These things aren't remarkable to me any more. I just do them. And that's probably not healthy. If I'm taking myself and my accomplishments and talents for granted, what does that indicate about how everyone else should take them? Now, I know that it's been a really challenging year so far. I've risen to every occasion. I'm tired, and I'm burnt out. But to not be able to marvel at the fact that I have accomplished or can accomplish any of those things is kind of sad.

Overall, I feel kind of dry. Life should be dripping with sweet and flavourful juices. My joy in writing, my excitement at learning new things as I research, the pleasure I usually take in practicing my religion -- everything seems to be in the midst of a drought. HRH and I didn't get to go on our annual spiritual retreat this year like we usually do in August, and this year of all years it would have done us a heap of good. Both of us are feeling rather drained and in a spiritual dry patch. There's been some major changes in how our tradition is being structured, and while it doesn't really change much because we've kind of been running our coven in what's become the new official way all along, it's had a significant impact on how we consider ourselves in the greater scheme of things. Today's meeting and ritual reminded us of how much we enjoy energy work together. I'd like to see us do more ritual than we've been doing. Everyone's been having a slightly odd year. If we can regain momentum, I think we'll all be happier. We're meeting again next Sunday, instead of the Sunday afterwards as we usually do, so that will help.

Liam has developed this odd little quirk where he refuses to sleep during the day. He fights sleep with all his might, ends up overtiring himself with crying and screaming because he's tired, and if he finaly loses the fight and drowses, it's only for five or ten minutes before he jerks himself awake and starts to cry again. He's up from approximately six in the morning till about seven-thirty at night. It wouldn't be so bad if he was good company while he was awake, but he's cranky because -- of course -- he's tired.

So because he wasn't asleep, Liam joined us in ritual today. And he was good for most of it, too. We made a list of accomplishments for Liam, and congratulated him accordingly. I dated it, and it will go in his scrapbook as Liam's First Ritual. While in circle, he watched things that we couldn't see, like the cats do. And I'm incredibly proud of all my coveners for holding their grounding and handling energy smoothly even when he got worked up at the end and screamed through the dismissals.

I was scheduled to go to another ritual directly after our coven meeting was originally to end. However, because of the blocks we encountered in the ritual itself, and because of Liam's state, the coven meeting ran late, and the second ritual was scheduled to begin around the time our coveners left. There was simply no way I could fit it in with feeding the baby, comforting the baby, and the unscheduled nap I took along with Liam as he finally fell asleep after being fed. I tried to contact the ritual leader, but no luck. Ah well; I figure that by now people ought to know that a baby makes my life completely unpredictable.

It strikes me as ironic that the article I wrote focuses on moving past the "have-to" feeling of dealing with a mundane action like eating, and focusing on the spiritual enrichment one can derive from that action instead. It would appear that my entire daily life has turned into a "have-to" instead of something of beauty. I do all these apparently incredible things because I have to. It would seem that I've lost the trick of being nourished by them in any way, however: no joy, no comfort, no relaxation, no spiritual enrichment. And I'm not quite sure when it happened, or how to reverse the process.

According to my article, of course, one simply has to perform one's daily activities with awareness. It's what one does with what one learns through performing those actions with awareness that's the unique challenge for each and every person. And evidently how I process that information has changed. Now I have to figure out how to make it all flow smoothly again, and how to inject the life-blood back into my life. I have to learn how to learn again. And perhaps how to live with awareness again, instead of just doing it.

Friends!

We had a wonderful day out yesterday, Liam and I. He and Kyle slept through their first playdate, and Chantale and I nattered and sympathised and shared. Liam was very good for his first restaurant outing, and only woke up and fussed when he wanted his diaper changed. This was his first public diaper change, so I headed off to the washroom expecting to have to put his change pad on the floor, but there was a fold-down change table in the larger stall. Of course, it was almost at shoulder height for me, but we managed. (What's with this trend in tall changing tables, anyway? I think the theory is that you don't have to lift and lower the baby and thus avoid straining your lower back, but the taller table forces you to hold your arms up high to work with the baby, and that stresses your shoulders instead. I know I'm 5'3" but these things would be high even on someone of average 5'5" height. Which, come to think of it, is what I measure in the heeled sandals I wore yesterday.) When we got back to our booth he wanted to be held instead of put back in his car seat, so he snuggled against my chest and grumbled a bit while we finished brunch.

Kyle is huge! And he looks so content! Good parenting going on in his house, you can tell. And I remember when Liam used to sleep that much. It's odd -- he's not a newborn, and he's not two months old; he's some odd cross between the two, and I never know what to expect from him. Life would be easy if I could take an average of the ages, but it doesn't work that way either. It's funny to look at Kyle, who's six weeks younger but looks like a three-month-old, and then at Liam, who's probably eight pounds now and who seems big at home, but so fragile next to Kyle.

Liam liked Kyle's little rocking chair. I think, when my final cheque for the green witch book comes in (which won't be until late September, if not October), we'll pick one up for him.

It's damp today. And overcast. And somewhat depressing. Good thing I feel like cocooning.

Rehearsal this afternoon!

Hurrah!

Today is Liam's first play date! We're off to spend quality time with Chantale and Kyle.

More Errors

Okay, now the search engine isn't picking anything up in the site (including obvious words like "Liam").

What the hell happened to my installation of MT? Or has TCH done a new upgrade of certain modules that set things askew yet again?

Because Everyone Needs A Hobby

A former Hollywood stunt man now living in the Netherlands launched his greatest project to date Tuesday: a 45-foot replica Viking ship made of millions of wooden ice cream sticks and more than a ton of glue.

And, thinking ahead:

He said he was confident the ship would float, but organizers had prepared an alternate press statement just in case something went wrong. The biggest fear was that the ship's keel might be too light and it would capsize. But the launch went smoothly, and McDonald plans to apply for a mention in the Guinness Book of Records.

Full article here.

Grrr

The husband and the baby have gone for a walk.

Finally, I can get some real work done.

Can everyone think good thoughts to getting HRH back to work on that suspended project, please?

lovely and creative and talented

ai731 and I spent three hours really working on Holly McNarland's "Do You Get High" this afternoon. We also took a good look at the music for "Patience" and made a couple of tentative decisions regarding arrangments.

We got a lot of work done today and are terribly pleased with ourselves. It's so much easier to go through music with another string player who's directly involved in what you're playing, because we can bounce things off one another, and play notes against chords, and make immediate decisions regarding who plays what and adjust majors to minors and whatnot on the spot.

In fact, we ought to do it more often.

Plus I got a cucumber. And she got a tomato. Garden exchange is so cool.

Big Step (For Both Liam and Mummy)

I just gave my baby his first bottle of formula.

I feel proud of him for taking it and not spitting any of it back up, but I feel a little sad too, and a wee bit guilty as well. No matter how much I pump, I just can't seem to express enough milk to fill both the 120 ml bottles HRH feeds him in a day. We've only got ten 150 ml bags of breast milk left in the freezer, and I want to keep them against a rainy day; hence the formula. If I can fill one of the bottles with expressed milk as I've been doing, and use formula only for the second instead of frozen milk, then I'll be happy with that. With luck, my supply will kick into high gear again and I'll be able to provide enough breast milk for both bottles ahead of time, and maybe even freeze some extra as well.

Knowing he can take formula will also help us when we have to leave him with someone else for a day or so as well. And it's not like we're switching him over to formula completely. He's still taking approximately 850 ml of breast milk per day over seven feedings, as compared to only 120 ml of formula.

I'm just a little... wistful, I guess. Like Chantale said when Kyle was born, I should be able to do this; I should be able to provide enough for every single feeding. No matter how many times I breastfeed him, or pump two or three extra times a day, or for a bit after each feeding, I just can't seem to get far enough ahead of him.

So far, so good: no spitting up, no outright rejection of the formula, no evident discomfort. We'll keep an eye on him.

This making decisions for someone else thing? Not the best part of parenting.

Back

Okay, it seems that somehow, my monthly archives were broken. Something about the template tag having an error, which is curious because nothing had changed in my template at all between yesterday morning and the early afternoon when it told me it was broken.

Anywhats: now that my server is responding again I took out the monthly archive tag, which is why the months are no longer listed under the archive heading on the right sidebar, and all's well again. There are still a couple of wonky things happening when I log in to MT, but I can work around them.

Sigh

Hmm. Things are still wonky, and the owlies are in an uncomfortable holding pattern.

We thank you for your patience.

Featured Again!

Witchvox has reformatted their Featured Book section; it now features a different book each day. And guess which book is featured today?

Take That, Article Of Doom

It's done. It's gone. It's over.

Thanks to t! who held it down so that I could shoot it after Ceri gave me a couple of suggestions on how to hold the gun.

Now I'm looking at the pile of spiritual/religion-associated books I have, both for review and pleasure reading, and I'm cringing. It's confirmed: I'm definitely burnt out on reading and writing alternative spirituality.

I think I'll stick to novels for a while. And I pulled a book of essays on nineteenth-century novels off my bookshelf recently to read while breastfeeding; it's an excellent change of pace from what I've been doing day in and day out for the past eight months. Maybe I'll pick up The Bronte Myth book I bought over a year ago next.

Alas, Jane, How They Mistreat You

Wow, does the new Pride & Prejudice trailer ever leave me cold. Keira Knightley just isn't Elizabeth Bennett. She sounds so stilted. And the trailer makes it sound like a college or high school story. Yeesh.

The Article That Wouldn't Die

I spent another two hours on the article yesterday. I swore up and down that it would be finished today. I foresee yet another two hours before it resembles something I'd let out of the house with my name on it.

So in total, I'll have spent a total of nine hours on it.

That's abysmal, by my standards. I can usually write an article like this in two hours, tops. And no, it's not because I had to keep getting up to care for the baby. I've just finally burnt out on writing spiritual stuff.

Argh.

I will be so, so very happy to send this off to the editor and no longer have to worry about it.

Ta-da!

Liam slept through the night!

In our house, this means no waking to feed around 3 AM. So he had a feeding at midnight, we all went to bed, and he slept all the way till 5 AM.

We are all terribly pleased, and hope this is the start of a new trend. He seems to be trying to put himself on a four-hour schedule in general, so over the past couple of days he's been going back and forth between long naps and big feeds, and cluster feedings of fifteen or twenty minutes a half-hour apart.

Of course, this will probably all change tomorrow.

Two Months

Liam is two months old today.

He can hold his head up, play with toys hung on the side of his crib or basket, roll over from tummy to back and from back to tummy, and smile and laugh at whoever's playing with him. He looks out the window; he watches shadows on the wall. Play, interact, quiet time -- his social needs change almost daily. He likes his baths. He likes the car. He likes the stroller.

He's also struggling to control his own body's schedule. He fights sleepiness because he wants to be awake. He'll eat for ten minutes, five hours in a row, then knock back over 100 mls of milk in twenty minutes. His fussy time is between eleven at night and one in the morning. He's developing problems dealing with gas, and has a new cry in response to the frustration of feeling uncomfortable gastrointestinally.

He's two months old. As of Saturday, he'll have been home with us for one month. And finally, he was due to be born sometime this week. No more "minus X weeks old"; now real life has caught up with the projected plan. We still field the "he's two months old?" question from strangers when they see him, but it takes so little time to say that he was two months early and very healthy.

It feels like we've always had him, and yet we can almost see him growing (we can certainly feel it when we pick him up). Looking at the first pictures and then looking at today's picture -- the difference is incredible. Everyone is right: it does go fast, and just when you think you know the baby he does something new to force us to realise all over again how fast he's evolving into a complex and completely unique individual.

I finally got to cuddle with him and relax this morning, which was a wonderful treat. Lately every time I hold him it's been to feed him because he's been demanding lots of meals, and it's been a struggle due to any number of reasons (my drowsiness, his drowsiness, the heat, the humidity, the gas...). By the end we're both so fed up with one another that we're glad to hand him off to HRH, who then gets the calmer cuddles. I've been a bit jealous. Today went a long way to making me feel better.

I love our baby. He's pretty darned cool.

Curiously Accurate and Amusing (To Me At Least)

Seriously -- the house, the wand, the birds, the classes... and I was voted Most Likely To Become Prime Minister at the end of high school, so why should this be any different?

My only disagreement is with the Fudge Flies -- it should have been Sugar Quills.

Things proceed apace. I'm getting stuff done. Plus the baby's been fed. It's ticking the little things off your to-do list that keep the day going, you know?

Got Crackers, Got Rose Petal Tea, Got Music...

I spent most of the night rocking Liam in his little AmbyBed because he was sleeping poorly, and yet I woke up around five and I feel okay. I reserve the right to crash terribly later this afternoon. I just need to get all that time-sensitive stuff done first.

A shower wasn't on the original list of things to do this morning, but Liam wouldn't burp for HRH so I took over. (This is rare -- usually I have to pass the baby to HRH to burp him.) I got a huge air bubble out of his poor little tummy. Of course, it came up with a larger fount of milk than he's brought up before, too: hence the shower. (There's laundry happening as a result, as well.) Anywhats, in the shower I began humming Sunday Morning After, and I think I've worked out a new funky bassline for it. (Yes, there are only ten new songs I ought to be working on for the band, so I'll rework one I haven't even played live the first way yet.) And the shower felt good, too, so that was a nice bonus.

I think I'm going to close up shop for a while after I've met all the assignments and contracts I currently have on the go. I'd like to focus just on coven and editing. I met with Scarlet last week about the two upper levels of CMS, which I'd been looking forward to teaching again because I missed it. At first I was disappointed that both sessions of level 3 would have to happen without me this fall due to scheduling, and that level 4 wouldn't happen till February, but now I'm realising it's a blessing in disguise. The heavy workload and stress of the first half of the year has really drained me. When I start breaking down over a simple 1200 word article, it's time to take even more steps back. I know I've already pared stuff down in my life, but I'll have to pare away even more to give myself the space to recuperate from what I originally had to pare down for. (Pause; check coherence of sentence. Yup. It works. So glad.)

Things I won't give up: Random Colour. Orchestra. Coven.

Things I can't give up: Baby. Series editor. Consultant position.

Everything else is to be considered on a case by case basis. I do a review or two every month or so; that will probably stay, although it depends on what I'm offered to review.

Now I must dig through those files, and assemble travel packages for my coveners for their trip. I must email crucial information to them. I'll gather all the stuff I need to photocopy. I'll select a dozen pictures to print. And then, if I have time, I'll finish that article, because it looks like I have a day or two extra for it. That's all I'll be able to do today, I know.

Dim Hope

It's good to have friends like Ceri, who instead of patting your head offer concrete suggestions on how to make your writing not suck in a specific lame article.

I have got to go eat dinner before I pass out, because that would help absolutely no one.

The I Hate Life Post (Move Along, Nothing To See Here)

This is a maudlin, bitter, self-pitying post that had to be written, because sometimes you just have to say it.

I still have to finish that gods-damned article that is going nowhere fast. I hate my writing; I hate myself. (Move along. move along. That's not a cry for hugs. I know I write well in the overall scheme of things. It's just part of the general bitter mope.)

There are pictures that have to be transferred from the digital camera. There's writing that has to be coded. Everything has to be uploaded.

I'm not even going on our annual spiritual retreat in Pennsylvania this year because of the baby, and I still have to assemble a pile of stuff for others to take. This involves dredging through a bunch of files and folders -- and, I have discovered, trying to find a box which has not yet been opened from the move. It also involves trying to print out about a hundred pages of rituals, and trying to print out pictures (which never goes well on this printer; they turn out stripy). I may just copy them onto a CD and send HRH out tomorrow to get them printed professionally.

Because, of course, HRH is home yet again tomorrow, since the investors still have their heads firmly wedged up their behinds.

And I still have to finish the GRW appendix.

Please don't post pitying or bracing comments; I already know everything you're going to tell me to try to help.

Liam Update

We saw the doctor again today, and Liam is now 6 lb 15 oz. He's gaining an ounce a day. He's also grown three centimeters in the past two weeks: he's now 53 cm from toes to head.

After watching him nurse, the doctor's ruled out most of the possible reasons for his poor nursing. My milk's adequate; it's not reflux; it's not thrush. So it seems it's just the usual infant-becoming-accustomed-to-the-gastrointestinal-workings. She showed me another trick to get him to latch on better, so maybe that will help us too. Otherwise, it's just a case of his body getting used to the little baby cramps, and "seeing it through to the other side," as she put it.

Seeing it through would be a lot easier if it wasn't so hot and humid, and everyone's nerves and patience weren't already frayed from the weather. Can it be September, please?

Dragging On

The article didn't get finished before I had to leave for dinner. Nor did it get finished when we got home because Liam had to be fed, and I fell asleep after nursing him for an hour (standard nursing period now, and he's still hungry at the end -- you see why I think he has a lazy latch? Nurse for an hour, sleep for an hour, nurse for an hour again...). I was so tired that I slept through his first-time-ever screaming fit from midnight to two, so I only have HRH's word for how upset Liam was about something unknown. Sometime last night HRH turned off the air conditioner because it was too loud, so when Liam and I got up this morning for breakfast it was humid even though none of the windows had been open. So we both fell asleep nursing again. It was even stuffier when we got up two hours later for second breakfast. We managed to fight the heat-induced drowsiness, though, and after nursing for an hour Liam was awake enough to play a bit.

Now that he's finally asleep again, I'm here trying to read what I've got (fragmented, no flow from one paragraph to the next, empty meaning) and trying to make it work, trying to write more so that I at least hit the minimum length for a lead article. I think I'm finally burnt out. I can't even formulate a single-sentence statement of what I'm trying to say, let alone expand it into a coherent article.

Instead, I am having one of those days where everything I write is stilted, dull, and superficial.

Someone stab me with a dip pen.

In A Mood

This article is going nowhere and has been going nowhere for hours but still has to be in today, I have to be at my in-laws' for dinner in ten minutes, the baby's not eating properly and fussing because of it, my milk supply is dipping, HRH has been told to stay home tomorrow as well because the investors continue to be jerks, it's humid, and I've had a splitting headache all day.

In a mood? Why do you ask?

Weekend

We had a great weekend. I had rehearsal on Saturday, which is always fun because we are hip and cool and have wonderful ideas about how to play with a song. (Plus we are lovely and creative and talented.) Then on Sunday we went to the Ecomuseum for what's turning out to be an annual August visit with Jeff and Pasley and Devon. It was a beautiful day for it: sunny, not too hot, with none of the deadly humidity the city's been suffering from lately. The animals were all out and active instead of hiding, and there weren't too many people on the trails. It was a perfect visit, with a wonderful picnic afterwards. Devon finally got to meet Liam, and even fed him for a little bit.

That book review was done Friday. Today the article gets expanded and rewritten from the basic sketch I did Friday. The appendix gets finished today as well, or maybe tomorrow. The article has priority, as it's due today.

It still rather feels like the weekend, because HRH is home due to a lack of brain cells in the heads of the investors, which in turn has led to them not paying the piles of money owed to the contracted team. Gnash. No money, no work; no work, no product released to the investors. And yet they wonder why they don't have it. (Yes, it's finished, but it's being held hostage until the team's paid the large debt the investors owe. Take that, you brainless twits.)

Who Put The Alphabet In Alphabetical Order?

Good gods -- why has no one told me that They Might Be Giants does children's albums?

This will be Liam's first CD.

HRH is appropriately cooled out.

Saved

See? What the day needed was a good two-hour nap with baby.

Of course, the down side to a nap at six is that now it's ten o'clock and I'm wide awake, having just finished my dinner (and before that, Liam's). I'm about ten pages away from finishing the appendix (hurrah, although in the course of compiling it I discovered that I left lavender out of the section on herbs -- lavender, of all things!), and I have a couple of paragraphs for the food and spirituality article due Monday, so the day wasn't a complete write-off. (Was that not a clever pun? And completely unintentional. Naps evidently do good things for my sense of humour.) I should do the book review while I'm still awake and focused.

Doom

Bad night although not baby-related. And I woke up (late) feeling utterly wretched, too. I wish I could sleep all day. But I've got a review, an article, and theoretically an August Writing submission to do, although I may just use the article as today's submission. I have to finish the appendix today, because this weekend I refuse to work (and I have stuff scheduled both days) and I want it out of the way for next week when the first part of the GRW edits will come back to me.

And it sounds like Liam's having a clingy day.

It's just a wretched day in general. All I want to do is curl up on the bed with the baby and read until I fall asleep.

The article and review are due Monday, which means I could do one today and one on Monday; that would make things more manageable. Possibly.

Going back to bed sounds like such a good idea. At least, the headache and backache and mild stomachache and listlessness tell me so.

At Last

Everyone else may have had their copy for a month, but I finally have my author's copies:

Which in turn means that various members of my family will finally get the copies they've been patiently waiting for too.

Now it feels completely real.

Liam Update

The health visitor from the CLSC was just by again, and Liam now weighs 2.92 kilos, or 6 lbs 4 oz. He's gaining about an ounce a day. Yay for him!

And we are making bread. He sat in his bounce seat while I mixed the dough an hour ago, and seemed to enjoy looking around the kitchen. We'll go knead it soon.

PSA

With the amount of linking going on these days, it seems that it's time to once again gently correct your punctuation.

Dear reader: If you have a link to this journal on a page of your site, or on your own journal, please look at it (no, actually look at it; a glance will not do) and make sure that it reads as follows:

The apostrophe is deliberately after the first word, because it is a possessive plural. This Court belongs to many owls, not just one.

If your link reads as "Owl's Court", you've punctuated it incorrectly.

Thank you for your time and attention.

Love,

Me and the multitude of little owls, who are very sad because they feel that you've left them out.

PS: Don't think this doesn't mean you, o personal friends.

Slow, Slow, Slow

So far, I've gone through 128 pages of the green witch manuscript, and taken the pertinent information to begin assembling the new appendix.

I also discovered a place where I'd referred the reader to a table of symbols in the appendix that never got done. So I have to do that, as well.

As I've read through it looking for the info, I have discovered:

The good: Lots of this is better than I thought it was.

The bad: I left a couple of unfinished paragraphs that just sort of stop, with no closing statement to summarise and recap the point.

The stupid: I repeat myself significantly in two chapters, one chapter apart. Gah. I knew that would happen.

153 pages to go. Fortunately (or perhaps not) it's mostly mindless.

Long Day

This has been a long day. Not much computer time. Baby muchly awake.

So very glad the book has already been handed in. Now, if I could just get the time to work out the second appendix before the edits come back next week...

Oooh, Shiny

In skimming last year's NaNo novel, Moments of Being Pandora, I have rediscovered how brilliant I am and how well I write YA fiction.

I have also been reminded of how convoluted the politics between Fae and human were, and how my brain was beginning to break at the end, and how very glad I was when November was over so I could leave the novel alone. I'm going to have to reread the entire thing very, very carefully before I can write anything new. Boo. (But enjoyable nonetheless.)

Well, I know what I'll be doing tomorrow morning. Which isn't necessarily a good thing, for I have to collate that second appendix for the green witch book, and do that review, and that article too.

But I can do mini-scenes and character interaction that I can slot in here and there if I want, once I've got the whole thing in my head again. I can use those as my august_writing submissions.

Must think on't. Must also fly, for I am due at the abode of t!'s in twenty minutes.

Tuesday

It is a very odd feeling to be in my office while HRH is in the living room with his laptop, typing out two entries to catch up with the august_writing challenge. It's as if someone came along and turned the world upside-down. Usually I'm the one one writing and he's in the next room doing whatever. I feel as if I ought to be writing something too, just to keep the world from imploding, or whatever it intends to surprise me with next.

I had my 8-week post-natal appointment today, and the verdict is, "Did you actually have a baby?" Yay me. Then Liam and I went in to the store to teach Roo how to database books, and I spent two hours with my old workmates. It's wonderful to just hand Liam to someone (or several someones) whom I trust and not worry about him. Not that I do worry; I have well-grounded and capable friends, and I'm remarkably relaxed about my baby. It was just good to be reminded of how the work gang watches each others' backs, and shares in the good stuff, too. As well as playing with his Fairy Godmother Roo and Dimitri again this afternoon, Liam got to meet his Auntie Scarlet today for the first time, so that was nice for him (and Scarlet too!).

Oh, who am I kidding. I'm going to open last year's NaNo novel and write little bits each day to try to finish it off for the august_writing challenge.

We've Got A Live One

At 4.30 this morning, during a short break in his early morning meal, Liam demonstrated that he can now roll over onto his tummy when lying on his back.

I knew this would logically follow the ability to roll over onto his back from his tummy, but I didn't think it would happen twelve hours and fifteen minutes later.

Over he goes, nice and steady, onto one of his arms. Then he lies there with that arm under him, his little hand sticking out from under his chest on the opposite side of his body. His brow furrows, and he tries to move it. The he lifts his head as far as it will go, and pushes against the ground with his other hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, the trapped arm wriggles out. And Liam is pleased with himself.

I was too, until I realised that now he is a rolling menace and we can't just put him down and expect him to stay where we've set him. I wonder how long it will take him before he connects yesterday's action to this action, and rolls like a little log along the floor.

Liam Update

Ahem:

My baby can now roll over onto his back when he's on his tummy.

And when he's on that tummy, he's got the crawling motion down. However, he doesn't have the strength in his arms or legs to lift himself up, so he looks rather like a turtle does when it's flipped over, waving its little feet in the air. Except in this case, he's face down, moving his knees and hands along the ground and going nowhere.

But! He can roll over onto his back! It's terribly exciting. Liam is very pleased with himself. We had lots of fun showing off to his Da once he was home from work.

Blessed Lughnassadh!

No wonder I've been craving corn on the cob for the past week and have been thinking about baking bread despite the heat -- it's Lughnassadh.

This feast day more than any other in the Wheel of the Year is all about food for me. It's the first harvest festival. Harvest Home is a thanksgiving of sorts (Mabon, if you insist on using a name that has no connection to the actual holiday), and Samhain is Samhain; but Lughnassadh is all about bread and corn to me. The Empress card from the Major Arcana covers the period between Midsummer and Lughnassadh in my mind. Lughnassadh carries associations of fertility and abundance in my personal connection to the Wheel of the Year. The tilling and maintaining of crops and projects continues, but you can see the finish line ahead of you, and pause for just a moment to appreciate the first fruits of your labour.

The fruit of my particular prosaic labour was supposed to be a Lughnassadh baby. I'm not quite sure what it says about him that he chose to be born around Midsummer instead.

Reviews Up

I've been a bit behind in formatting and posting my book reviews from the past six months. I think I can be forgiven under the two books/one move/one baby circumstances.

Witchcraft Out Of The Shadows by Leo Ruickbie
Pagan Dream of the Renaissance by Joscelyn Godwin
Modern-Day Druidess by Cassandra Eason
Witches' Craft by Bruce Wilborn
Irish Witchcraft from an Irish Witch by Lora O'Brien.

Polite Rant Ahead

Let's talk about discrimination for a moment.

Discrimination is when you discard someone's ideas, views, and worth because they are different.

Now let's talk about Wiccan traditions.

Discrimination is when you discard someone's ideas, views, and worth because they belong to a different tradition.

Does it make sense to dismiss someone simply because they've studied a certain path? Of course not. You're assuming that the path you object to, and only that path, has influenced and molded the individual's thoughts, beliefs, ethics, outlook, and spirituality.

What about their other spiritual studies? Their personal interests? What they practiced before (or currently in addition to) the path to which you object?

Does it make sense to dismiss the individual's contributions to the field simply because you look down on their path? To assume that whatever they offer is going to be a carbon copy of their tradition's teachings? Doesn't that mean you're ignoring the individual's own originality?

Would you accept someone dismissing you as having any worth because you were Alexandrian, or Gardnerian, or Reclaiming?

Wouldn't you be annoyed if someone assumed you worshipped Sanders, or Gardner, or Starhawk, simply because they founded your trad? Wouldn't you object to someone assuming you were a clone of your founder?

I certainly do. In fact, I object rather strongly to it. I'm not a Silver clone, nor are my books a regurgitation of hers or her ideas. In fact, my books are completely different. While I received my clergy training through BFCCS, I practiced on my own for a good long time before that, during which I formed my personal ideas and interpretations of Wiccan basics. I don't take kindly to people dismissing my work or myself simply because of my association with a path of study I followed to explore its connections and contrasts to my own ideas, and to explore those of other people. I object very strongly to people assuming I'm fluffy, vacant-brained, and a sheep, and if they do it simply proves that they haven't taken the time to even look through my work, whether published in book form or on the website.

I don't plug my ears with my fingers when I hear someone is of another tradition, because I believe that all individuals have something personal and valid to share. I don't refuse to open a book because of their training (or lack of it). I let the material speak for itself, and then base my future decisions on my personal evaluation of that material.

I refuse to be drawn into witch wars, false divisions, and exclusionary practices. You say potato, I say potahto. We're both talking about the same tuber. I'm not going to assume that you know nothing about them simply because you like eating Russet Burbanks while I prefer Yukon Golds. Nor am I going to dismiss every other opinion you have on unrelated topics because we prefer different potatoes. Your opinions and thoughts are as valid as mine.

If you dismiss someone or something on the basis of your opinion of a single individual also associated with one of their affiliations, you're simply pointing to your own narrow-mindedness and refusal to make an objective decision. And who loses out?

You do.

Almost Famous

I just received an email from The Wiccan Pagan Times, asking if I'd be interested in doing an author interview.

Interested? Of course! (And there was much internal jumping up and down.) I'm enough of a Pagan geek to really appreciate recognition from sites like TWPT and Witchvox. I hope I never lose this feeling of excitement at proposals like this, no matter how many books I write before I die.

The request for an interview reminded me that I have a book coming out at the end of this month. Where did the summer go? (Don't answer that -- I know where it went. It went to (a) finishing the green witch book, and (b) a little someone who decided that June was a more interesting month than August.)