IT'S ALL IN MY HEAD

I can't be the only person to dream of writing a best-selling novel.

 Although I would like to write only one copy, and keep it to simply read to myself.



So I actually have begun writing it.




And, as every author has discovered, it's a bit of work to get it from the images in your head onto the page.



I'm trying to set reasonable goals rather than my normal haphazard-when-the-mood-strikes-me.




So some days I write a page - some days just a couple of words.




But I am writing.

NOW IT'S A PLAN

Take up tiny seconds.

Bind them together with small spits of energy.




Continue to scour for those lost time segments.

Keep stirring them with action.




Gradually, oh so gradually,

Slowly enough that no one notices,

Add more and more of those instants of reality,







Detracting only from mindless pursuits of the Internet

And gagging on commercially processed foods.












At least that's the beginning of the plan.



Let's see what happens.

IT'S A SIGN

I believe in signs.

But only in good signs.

See, being superstitious, by definition, is a belief or notion NOT BASED ON REASON OR KNOWLEDGE.

So as long as you accept MY reasoning and/or beliefs, the rest of this blog will make perfect  sense.

I have just spent a lovely week in California with my daughter, and had casually discussed with her a heightened regime of exercise via my available animals (who all need more working out themselves) and regular visits to the gym to somehow justify the $47 that disappears out of my checking account each month.

And while driving home this evening, I was lightly considering methods to get going myself moving in more directions than simply towards the refrigerator when a stunning natural event presented itself.

A full moon rising in the midst of clouds over the Mule Mountains.

How could that be anything other than a sign as to encourage these thoughts concerning physical fitness, weight loss and heightened equine training?

It was a sign.

And I'm recording it so that I'll HAVE to pay attention to it.

And tomorrow if I'm still brave and excited about this sign, I will set some public goals to see if it will keep me motivated... or embarrassed enough to at least keep trying.

CALIFORNIA DREAMIN'

It's quite ordinary for me to be in southern California.  I was born here, I was raised here,l and I have lived here several times since as an adult.



So seeing people taking videos and group photos in front of scenic backgrounds is almost laughable - just another group of tourists.

But last night and tonight I sort of wished I had.

Harmony and I went to see a play in a Old Town San Diego, a musical that was a fun mix of music from the eighties, with snappy choreography and an extremely involved audience, about a third in costume.

And tonight Harmony and Blake went to 40's dance, with Harmony dressed to KILL.

Sometimes the cell phone photo just isn't enough.

PACKING

I'm leaving tomorrow for a week in California.



And somehow I have to cram enough stuff for eight days into a small enough suitcase that will fool the airline into classifying it as "carry-on."


But at the same time carrying my huge briefcase/satchel/possible-diaper-bag-for-a-57-year-old-grandmother and trying to convince the same airline that this is actually my "purse."

As well as cram my 15 different types of prescription medications - three different types of hair preparation - makeup - three books - cellphone and charger - church listings for providing service to those in need as assigned...

Think I will actually be allowed on a flight?

ANGELS VOICES OR DEMONS SHRIEKING?

I love leading music in church. I was born without an inkling of stage-fright, so am fully comfortable standing up in front of hundreds of people. And I am fully prepared to make an ass out of myself, bellowing out in my thin alto voice and waving my arms around in some poor imitation of proper time signature to the four people in the congregation who are actually watching me.

But the part I like best is actually hearing the congregation sing back at me.

I am partially deaf, and when seated in the front row, off to the left, I can really only hear the speaker and people sitting by the podium. Which, by the way, is deliberate - I'm not distracted by all the chatting, babies crying and whisperings going on behind me.

But I don't hear much of the voices of people behind me - usually just one strong tenor to my left (whom I greatly appreciate, since I am trying to pick up the tenor part at least in the last two verses of each hymn) and whatever the organist and chorister are bellowing out.

So when I'm up in front, I can HEAR all those voices - and even when it's bad, it's lovely - just voices attempting to unite in praise and worship.

FREEZING IN MOTION

There is always something to do around here.

Housework, the animals, writing, church responsibilities - and that's without adding the time-draining addictions of Pinterest, Facebook, anything Sherlock related, and this blog.

And I'm not talking just busy-work; I've got feedings, waterings, cleanings and organizationals that are the only reason this house remains upright.

But then I run into a "big" job.

Something that is either a big financial or time matter.

And I freeze.

I can't move.

I can't make a decision - I can't move onto the actual problem - I can't even begin to think about solving the problem.

I know what stops me - pure and simple fear.

I'm afraid of making a money and/or time commitment - I'm scared to ask anyone else for help - I'm petrified that there isn't going to be the money, or if I do spend it, I'll immediately be confronted with another issue where I'll need it - I'm terrified that it won't work out.

So I stop all action, and sort of shut-down for a while.

Usually these freezes are only for a few hours - sometimes as long as a day or two - and then I can get moving again.

But I'm in the midst of one that's been one that's been literally for MONTHS.

It's not an easy decision, but it's an EXTREMELY urgent one.


I finally did what I should have done months ago.

Followed an old itinerary from the book "Dune" by Frank Herbert:

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Once that was done, I was fine, moved past and through the fear, made decisions and did what needed to be done.

POLITICIANS, SHUT UP AND LISTEN FOR A CHANGE

I'm constantly amazed at how much energy goes into shouting.

If everyone could put down their verbal sabers, and actually work on accomplishing  something, we could get quite a lot down.

But that's without the screaming about who is right and who is wrong (i.e. us and them).


If everyone could work together for the common good instead of their individual piece of the pie.

But that's putting aside the special interests that got you elected and are gonna get you re-elected.

If everyone could at least pretend to be adults and meet and discuss and COMPROMISE.


Which is not a heinous, filthy concept - it's called doing our best.

PLAYING SPIRITUALITY HOOKY

Sometimes it's nice to stay home for a day.

Sometimes it sorta sucks.


The idea of being just ill enough to free you from all regular social interactions, all work responsibilities, but not "really" sick enough to feel, well, SICK, is something we all wish for at times.

But being ill enough to feel, well, SICK, and staying home because, heck, you're SICK... that stinks.

Today I stayed home from church, sick with a bad cold, but secretly hoping that I actually wasn't that sick, and could enjoy the time home alone.

Yeah, no such luck.

I was sick.

I 'AVE A 'AD COLD

I wish colds didn't make me nervous.

Like most of the American public, I probably catch one or two colds a year (and just live with allergies the rest of the time).

Unfortunately, I also have a history of developing pneumonia from aforementioned colds.

It's not so scary now that they have developed some pretty strong antibiotics for people like me who are allergic to all the regular one.

But still something I would rather avoid.

So yesterday I should probably not  have been out in rain, hail and just a touch of snow trying to repair my goats' shed.

I'm just not moving outside for the next couple of days, and I'm certain I'll be all better.

BUZZINESS

I spend more time at home than anywhere else, mainly because I live 20+ miles from the nearest form of civilization (e.g. land that does not have cattle grazing on it, stores, paved roads) and with the price of gas AND a gas-guzzling truck, I try to keep trips to a minimum.

(I also drive to Tucson 2-3 times a week, and that takes an entire gas tank worth of fuel)

And yes, I waste way too much time at home wandering through Facebook, picking and choosing through Pinterest (and feeling remarkably creative and productive doing so), and finding excuses to take naps (my favorite hobby and one I excel at).

So this morning was different.

Setting out with the express purpose of getting to the gym - and doing practically everything else instead - I spent about three hours jumping from event to event.

And today has moved remarkably fast.

I have tried to literally use a time-card at home to get myself motivated - I have set up hourly schedules - I have used rewards (normally chocolate) and punishments (usually cleaning).

But time at home, for me at least, gently oozes throughout the day, dripping excuses to wade into the warm gentle shallows of procrastination and pure laziness.

And any waves that crash are the ones that drown me in mindless computer browsing or simply lure back to bed.

But all these water allegories are making me slightly sea-sick; I think I had better quit.

AH, THE FOLLY OF YOUTH

Some people need a scape-goat.

I have an escape-goat.




The baby goat, Lucy, has learned to slip through gaps in the fence that certainly should  be goat-proof. And she can get into the horses' pens, and then from them out into the yard.




Short of putting chicken-wire along every stretch of fencing I have, I am resigned to having an escape-goat.

At least until Lucy puts on a few more pounds.