Defining Moments

I remember driving to North Bend one evening right before Toby and I got married. Toby was in the process of moving into my townhouse and I was hauling some of his stuff from Bellevue. Cruising down I-90 in the dark, I had several of his hunting guns in the back, a cougar pelt hanging over the seat and a live turtle riding shotgun on the floorboard. And I thought, my life has forever been changed.

For those of you who knew me Before Toby, then you understand the magnitude of this moment. Instead of running away from a relationship, I was running headlong into it. WITH GUNS. Not to mention the guy doesn’t drink, swear, relish breaking rules (unless it’s the speed limit on a motorcycle) or get itchy at the thought of a stable life, yet he’s willing to put up with me. It was a defining moment.

I had another one of those moments today. After spending the morning changing diapers, tripping over toys, pureeing any vegetable I could find and picking Cheerios and clumps of my hair off of every surface of the house, Roper and I hopped in the car to run an errand. Errands are the Very Exciting part of the day when I get to see other adults. I even showered.

As we were driving through town, we passed a T660 truck. I designed a couple of parts for that model when I was a mechanical engineer at Kenworth Truck Co. It’s always a cool feeling as a designer to see parts and products and be able to say, “I made that.” Unless it’s failing miserably, then it feels much better to point a finger at someone else.

So I was reminiscing about the days when I had something to show for my work. Like a paycheck. Or something that actually has a function in this world. I wondered if the cool factor of seeing something I designed was worth the nine years of cubicle dwelling. And then I looked in my rearview mirror at the drooling, shrieking, pants-pooper strapped in my back seat and thought, holy crap…I made THAT! And I didn’t even have to sit in a cube for 10 hours a day.

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White Trash Garden

My veggie garden shares a small strip of the carport with my motorcycle. And yes, those are cans from my so-called 'home cooked' meals.

Writer’s Block

It’s the scourge of professional and hobby writers alike.   I know, you’re thinking, “Writer’s block on your THIRD post of this so-called blog?!  Pathetic.”   The truth is I have plenty of topics on which to write humorous bloggy snippets.  Some initial topics that were up for examination:  the poop I just wiped from my son’s forehead, my humiliating meeting with a literary agent and my gender-confused turtles that I am resigned to take with me to a nursing home sixty years from now.   

The problem is that I want to write something of substance.  You see, my writers group meets on Thursday and I don’t have anything for them yet.  I just participated in a writer’s conference that should have stoked a fire in me hot enough to cremate a horse but I have NOTHING.   My mind is full of cobwebs, cough medicine and the shrieks of my son who moonlights as a pterodactyl. 

My submissions to this writers group have been sporadic at best.   I have used Roper as an excuse in every way possible and I think he’s starting to resent that fact.  He actually signed “I am not your scapegoat,” to me the other morning.  That or he was trying to scratch his nose with his left shoulder blade.  I don’t know, my sign language skills aren’t that great.   

The point is that I would like to bring something fabulous to my next writers group meeting.  An essay or short story that draws them in with edible words and tantalizing twists.  Woah, I just thought of a chocolate covered pretzel when I wrote that.   Mmmmm…   CONCENTRATE WOMAN!!  Anyway, tantalizing and edible — you can see why Forehead Poop won’t work in this situation, right?  Hence, my case of writer’s block.

If you liked this post (or any posts on this blog), you can share it through email, Facebook, Twitter or any other venue on the dang ol’ internet.  You would earn my undying gratitude, as I am continually trying to grow this site.   Comments are always welcome.  Thanks for visiting!

Toby’s big deck

What, you didn’t know Toby had a big deck?  I hate to disappoint, but he doesn’t.  Apparently there was some snafu with the wrong materials being ordered or the plans being wrong or the building permit department being a band of soul-sucking bobble heads.  Honestly, I don’t know because when it comes to the actual details of building the shop/apartment, I tend to tune out and daydream about naps and unicorns.  Or napping unicorns.

We were hoping to finish the shop in the fall.  LAST fall.  But the whole pregnancy/birth thing screwed up the schedule.  Did you know that newborns can’t feed themselves or even sit up?  You give most mammals a couple of hours and they’re running around, stealing the car keys from their mom’s purse.  My son couldn’t find my nipple for the first seven months of his life even when it was poking him in the eye!  So we lost a little time there.

Anyway, building the deck and stairway was the next step towards us moving into this place and I wanted to have a work party.  Invite a bunch of friends over, ply them with beer and then let them play with power tools and heavy machinery.  What could go wrong there?   Since Toby refuses to make any friends or go on my suggested play dates, I was in charge of inviting people.  And our wonderfully generous friends and family signed up to help us.  Some even drove over the passes to help us.   Only Toby informed me on Friday night that he was NOT READY to have a work party.   

So, for reasons I don’t have the attention span to listen to, Toby’s deck did not come into fruition.   But we had trenches to dig and logs to peel.  Seriously people, who tries to sell that as a “party”?  Our friends are saints.   Or stupid.  At least we offered them beer and food and some rather random wildlife.  The whole point of this post is to say that there will be another work party to build the deck.   Get excited.

If you liked this post (or any posts on this blog), you can share it through email, Facebook, Twitter or any other venue on the dang ol’ internet.  You would earn my undying gratitude, as I am continually trying to grow this site.   Comments are always welcome.  Thanks for visiting!

Tap. Tap. Is this thing on?

I like lists.  Let’s start with one.

 

Reasons why I shouldn’t start a blog:

1.  I will unintentionally insult most of my friends and family within a week. 

2.  No one should know what I’m really thinking.  

3.  My son will bring entries to his future psychiatrist as proof that he was raised by maniacs.

4.  I should be writing my book.

5.  My words will be used against me in a court of law.

6.  I have mocked blogs and bloggers mercilessly for years.

7.  I haven’t updated my website in well over a year.  The chances are slim that I will keep this up to date.

 

Reasons I’m starting this blog:

1.  There is a possibility that it will force me to write something on a regular basis. 

 

And so it begins…