Burned Out

There’s a gloomy shadow hovering around my kitchen door. One of the kitchen lights is burned out - and has been for months. At least seven other lights around my house are also dark these days, but laziness and inertia have kept me from replacing them.

And for the past few months, I’ve been burned out too. Blogging had sucked the life and energy right out of me, and had become a chore, instead of a pleasure. I was constantly comparing myself to other bloggers and finding my work coming up short. I wasn’t making money off my blog, I wasn’t getting to try new products for free, and I wasn’t getting comments (or readers, for that matter.) I simply wasn’t having fun any more. So why bother?

But as I’ve waded through this unexpected and somewhat grumpy blog break, I’ve realized that I miss the community. I miss knowing how Suzanne and her brood are doing. I miss seeing  pictures and completely adorable videos of Jules and Sydney.  I miss Scribbit’s completely awesome craft and food ideas.

I miss having a forum for recording the crazy minutiae of every day life: the folding -and refolding - of the laundry after the baby climbs into the basket and plays peek-a-boo with all the clean towels; the toddler who uses a butter knife as a gear shift; the grocery-store meltdown that makes me laugh so hard I am crying.

So today I’m going to the hardware store to replace all those burned out bulbs. And I’ll do my best to be around here a little more, too.

Dinner for Pooh

Because really, who needs a pantry when you have a toilet?

There are little balls of dried snot on all of my sheets.

Crispy brownish streaks stripe the dining room table cloth about two-and-a-half feet from the floor. Just at the level of toddler fingers.

Tissues, pieces of tissues, boxes of empty tissues: they are everywhere. We have a cold the horrid mucus-magnifying virus from hell.

I say We, because like the Borg or the Three Musketeers, we are all for one in this household. And this virus is making us extremely grumpy.

Seth, although usually the happiest baby ever created, can’t breathe. And when he can’t breathe, he can’t eat. And when my 24-pound 8-month-old can’t eat … well, he doesn’t take it very well. Although we took the opportunity to teach about peaceful protest on Martin Luther King, Jr. Day,   Seth just doesn’t get it. He prefers the loud, in-your-face strategy:

“Mom, I don’t feel good! MOOOOOOOMMMM! My throat hurts! MOOOOOMMM I’m thristy and can’t drink cause my stinking nose is full of boogers! No, not the nasal aspirator bulb! NOOOOO!
“No, don’t hold me, I don’t like that. No, don’t put me down, I don’t like that either. MOOOOOOOOMMNMM!”

Tom, on the other hand, varies his strategies for dealing with illness. This morning he glanced at his Mini-Wheats and announced in the whinest voice he could muster, “I’m saaaaaaaad.”  When I asked what I could do to help him be happy, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Momma, I’m SAAAAAAAAAAD.” He didn’t want candy, ice cream or T.V. He just wanted to be SAAAAAAD. To make sure I got the point, he repeated the phrase at various volumes for the next two hours.

Later this morning, we were half-way through Bill and Pete to the Rescue, when Tom hopped off the couch, pulled a booger out of his nose and dropped it in my fresh cup of coffee. When I asked him what he put in my coffee, he said “Dirt, Mama,” with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen. He and his little snotty nose smiled thier way to timeout.

After time out was over, he and the dog decided to make it “snow” and they shredded and tossed an entire garbage can of dirty tissues all over my living room floor.

Fun times, I tell you, fun times.

Ta Da!

It’s official. I’ve turned my little mural-painting hobby into a business. And, thanks to SuperHubby, I have a rockin’ new website. (Only problem is the portfolio gallery isn’t up yet, but that should be up within the week. I hope.)

This weekend was a big push to finish a large glass-etching mural at the dojo. I was supposed to have all day Sunday to work on the project, but found out at the last minute that there was a surprise party for the sensei  planned for Sunday afternoon. So, I worked through a good bit of the night Saturday, and finished the mural just an hour before the party was set to begin. But the good news is that it’s finished! I will post pictures very soon - it was impossible to get good shots with the room full of people for the party.

So, that’s where I’ve been. If you all have any custom art you’d like … let me know!

Budgeting Creativity

Something very exciting is coming for me, but it’s sucking my creative time and energy away from the blog. It’s been in the works for a long time, and if all goes well, should be well on it’s way by next Monday.

But I’ve found, sadly, that I have a finite amount of creativity. Since I started this project, both my writing and cooking have suffered. I’m pouring all my creative energy into this other venture.

Bear with me, please, and I hope I’ll have more to talk about on Monday.

On Critics

Marie was short. She wore hip little pink rectangular glasses that perched on her nose and set off her dark, square-cut hair.

“Stacey,” she said to me one morning, her feet propped on a melamine writing desk, her bright pink pen whizzing over my latest masterpiece, “I just don’t like your writing style.

“It’s so … it’s so …” she paused, dramatically. “Verbose.” She slashed the pen across the paper, killing whole paragraphs of my writing, leaving it bleeding on the page.  I remember staring at her, feeling bruised and maligned, and thinking: I don’t like you very much, you short, obnoxious girl.

She was the baby in my creative writing workshop, a sophomore among seniors. But her writing stood out –sharp and clear. I still remember an essay she wrote about holding her grandmother’s hand when she died. I could feel the texture of the quilt over grandma’s legs, and could all but taste the sunshine and dust motes as they danced on the wood floor.

Despite Marie’s decided lack of tact, she was right. I’m wordy. And sometimes awkward. So, I was shocked and honored to be tapped by Jen for the ROAR for Powerful Words Award/Meme.

This is the part where I am supposed to impart some of my great wisdom about the art of writing. So many others have shared fantastic tips – but I’m happy to pass along a few lessons I’ve learned – or am in the process of learning.

Do it now: There is no magical muse just waiting to whisper beautiful stories in your ear. You cannot just sit around waiting for inspiration to strike, because if you do, it never will. Most successful writers are successful because they make writing a habit, a daily practice. I was my best when I was writing for a newspaper and required to produce something every single day. Clearly, I’ve gotten out of the habit, and my blogging is suffering.

Come to your senses: Whenever possible, show, don’t tell. Let the reader connect the dots. Don’t just say, “I love chocolate!” If you do a good job using sensory images – how did the chocolate look, taste, smell, feel, sound? – then the reader will get the point. You most definitely don’t need to hammer the point home by stating the obvious.

Let it go: Possibly the hardest thing about being a writer is dealing with criticism. Editors will tear your carefully crafted words to bits and reshape them. Some editors will do a better job than others, but you can learn something from all of them. The best thing you can do as a writer is let it go. Birth your words, let them go, and then write some more. Don’t get discouraged when your words are rewritten, just keep writing.

 I’d love to read some tips from Quinn at the QC Report,  Antique Mommy, and Jeana at Days to Come.

Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!

I’m not dead yet … quite. Despite the best efforts of the holiday season, I’m still alive, and my faculties are in reasonable working order. I think.

I’ve got a new post up over at Crunchable today - please go check it out!

Oh, and happy New Year, two weeks late.

Tale of the Ducks

A cautionary foray into reality theater, by Tommy
Overheard while plastering on my warpaint makeup this morning. Like all good writers, it’s clear that Tommy is writing what he knows.

Cast: Three yellow rubber duckies, one large and two small.
Scene: The bathroom floor.

Tommy picks up the large rubber duck.

Momma Duck: “I love you so much,” says Momma Duck.

Tommy picks up a small rubber duck.

Baby Duck: “Waaaa, waaaaa,” says the baby.

Boy Duck: “Please don’t cry, baby,” says the (pause) little boy duckie.

Baby Duck: Baby say, “Waaa, waaaa.”

Boy Duck: “QUIET,” screams little boy duckie.

Momma Duck: “If [you] scream at the baby, go time out,” said Momma Duck.

Baby Duck: “Waaaaa,” says the baby.

Boy Duck: “I said QUIET, baby!” said little boy duckie. “Ok, I go time out.”

Tommy moves Boy Duck to a remote corner of the room.

End Scene

 

Works for Me Wednesday: Panic Pantry Pasta

So, it’s dinner time. You need food fast, but you don’t have any idea what to fix. I always fall back on my favorite staple: Panic Pantry Pasta. It’s super quick, and it only requires you have a few easy-to-stock items on hand. This is dinner in under 20 minutes.

You’ll need:

1 onion, diced

1 or 2 cloves of garlic, minced, if you like garlic. Leave it out if you don’t.

1 jar Alfredo Sauce (I like Classico)

Pasta, any type, enough for your family

1 16 oz. bag of frozen mixed vegetables, such as California Mix (broccoli, cauliflower, carrots) OR 1 can diced tomatoes, undrained

Protein, such as chopped up leftover chicken or pork or a can of tuna or some frozen shrimp if you have it. (I usually pick only one source of protein I make chicken pasta OR tuna pasta - I do not recommend mixing them all together.)

Here are the easy steps.

Put the water on to boil for the pasta. While the water is heating, dice your onion. Put some butter or oil in the skillet and saute the onion until it softens but does not brown. If you like garlic, add it here. (If you’re REALLY pressed, you can use garlic powder, but really, fresh is so much better, and you can buy it in convenient jars!)

Then add to the skillet either the frozen veggies or the tomatoes. I don’t usually mix them together, but you could. It would be tasty.

Cook the pasta according to package directions. While that’s cooking, add just enough jarred alfredo sauce to the pan to make a nice thick sauce. For 2 adults and 1 toddler, we usually use about half a jar. But you can use as much or as little as looks good to you. Taste the sauce and season with salt and pepper.

Right before the pasta is done, add your chopped protein to the sauce. You add the cooked chicken last so that it just heats through and doesn’t over cook.

Drain and plate the pasta; top with the sauce. I usually add a little sprinkle of cheese. Voila! You have dinner.

The beauty of this recipe is that you can pretty much add whatever you want and make it your own. I’ve made it with tomatoes, mushrooms and spinach instead of the mixed veggies. I’ve made it with chopped artichoke hearts and shrimp, when I’m feeling flush. It is so adaptable, everyone can make it so that they’ll like it. Get creative!

(If you keep some pre-sliced Garlic Toasts in the freezer you could bake them up too - then you have pasta and bread. Yum.)

That’s what works for me! Check out Rocks in My Dryer for more quick recipe tips.

Addicted

My TV and I have an abusive relationship. Read more at Crunchable.