Posts Tagged ‘Braindebris’

I have trouble sleeping.  Not just sleeping, but also staying awake.  At times, I fall asleep with my head on my keyboard.  I usually fall asleep in moving cars (fortunately only once while I was driving), and I tend to doze off when visiting people or sitting.  The only time I don’t fall asleep is at night. 

Since my mother, age 88, has always gone to bed around four am and gotten up around six, I think this may be something in our DNA.   She has been observed falling asleep twice while standing.  Perhaps we were the watchmen/women for the tribe of cavemen we belonged to.  It was up to us to keep sabre tooth tigers at bay.  Now, all it gets me is angry snorts from the dog, who also refuses to move over when I finally am ready to sleep. 

I was recently put on a CPap machine.  (Officially, I wake up 7 1/2 times an hour and 80 times during REM sleep.  And, we wondered why I remembered my strange dreams so well!)  The machine really worked for about two days.  Then, I turned the heat up for the water a notch and slept great for about four days.  I’m up to five on the heated water thing and am thinking by 10 maybe it will just boil my lungs and I can sleep. 

Anyway, here I sit, having reformatted my computer yesterday and with barely anything on it, but the internet, and I am learning so much.  What did you learn, you ask!  Oh, come on, pretend you care even a little bit.

  1. There is a reason people find these cute names for their blogs.  Anyone who uses their real name eliminates all the fodder that their family gives them for blogging.  I mean, when you name it Braindebris, you don’t have to tell anyone who Braindebris is (It’s my daughter by the way, but don’t tell anyone.)  But, naming your blog savanvleck, kind of ruins the anonimity you want for telling on your relatives.
  2. This is for the times when you realize that Facebook has educated you to the fact that you are staunchly liberal and the rest of your family loves Sarah Palin, and that if your sister asks you one more time, to declare your love for something, you are going to…..  Frankly, I think I am exempt because I, obviously, was stolen from the Gypsies as a child. 
  3. Why can’t we have two Facebooks.  One for people who want to stay in touch with other people and see pictures of their children and another for people who are looking for radishes for their imaginary farm?
  4. When you format your computer (and since I have done this like every three months this year, I should have known this, but, when you do, you lose your favorites and stay up till 3am searching for things like, “Librarian+Seattle+Blog” to try and replace the bloggers who must be your real family because they laugh at the same things you do. 
  5. Of course, since it is 3:00am, after you have spent three hours searching, you realize that you blogged about the science teacher who blogs a fascinating science fact every day (Mr. Barlow’s Blog) and have a link in your own blog to him.  I imagine I might have realized that sooner at 3:pm. 
  6. My computer, a Dell Inspiron 1545 (who before I trash talk Dell, I will say, has the most awesome customer service on the face of the earth) has many flaws.  See numerous previous posts for those rantings.  But, the most irritating one I was left with (warranty is now up) is that I type over 100 wpm and for some reason the cursor jumps around all on it’s own.  So, I will be typing away and realize that the cursor is now two lines above where it was and I am typing stuff in the middle of another sentence.  Well, this format I did the smart thing and I downloaded new drivers for the touchpad, first thing.  It has not done the jumping around thing all day.  Fingers crossed!
  7. That I still do not remember how to post links well on WordPress.
  8. Well, folks, that wonderful little pill I took two hours ago is starting to work.  I guess it is time to fight the Chihuahua for the bed.  Sweet dreams in your REM sleep. 

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There are two people in our family who are just so funny that you love to be around them and often the comment is heard, “if we could get Sharon and Carol together one day, we would die from laughter.” 

Sharon lives in Indiana and Carol in Wisconsin, so it has not happened yet, but Sharon has begun blogging.  She was shamed into it really by a couple of bloggers, okay, me  and her friend.  She tried her hand, Just who are you people? « Braindebris’s Weblog, and was (as we suspected) hysterical.  She is one of ‘those’ people, who if she wrote regularly enough would be publishing a book.  She is that funny, just check out the The Immortal Rabbit « Braindebris’s Weblog if you want to split a gut.

She took a long break from blogging, much to our disgust, and is back now on a weekly blog schedule.  You would think she has a life or something!  She also mentioned it takes a good hour to put a blog post together.  Who knew!   

So, this morning, I checked how her weekend was and she brought up the often mysterious workings of the blogosphere and the people who take the time to read your blog but rarely write comments. 

My readership is not huge, it has dropped since I have gotten less regular in posting. However, in the beginning, when my readership would hit 1,000 for the month, I never had commenters, other than one.  There were 999 people out there lurking.   XUP always comments, all the way from Canada.  Aren’t you ashamed fellow Americans?  I have to get comments from Canada.  Pollyanna Rainbow Sunshine and the Needles of Doom often commented, but I have been really remiss commenting on their blog lately.  Don’t you love that name though!

 I have also been blogging a bit less lately myself, as I work on my eternal update to my website.  I feel like one of those people on the commercial, staring wide eyes, pupils dilated from staring at the screen, mind numb … anyway, you get the not pretty picture.  I only have one section left to go on the website and am soooo look forward to it being done.

This morning, here is a copy my monthly stats.  Notice the slow decline.

So, I checked Search terms. 

“no blood for oil Viggo” – as in Viggo Mortensen, no surprise there. Half of my readership is searching for “Viggo” –  Talk about stalkers! 

“Worms …” – EUWWW! especially when in the house. 

“actor with low ears” –  Okay, is this person casting a movie?  I have written about actors, and I have written a post due to the lovely commercial based on the old song “do your ears hang low. ” But, I have NEVER written about an actor with low ears.  I am not even sure why you would want to find an actor with low ears.


In an effort to raise my stats, I realize that I have three sure winners:

  • Viggo Mortensen
  • photography
  • Movie reviews

Okay, Viggo Mortensen is hot and I do understand the fascination.  He keeps his private life mysterious and he’s hot and he likes dark chocolate and he’s hot.  What more could you want?  The only thing is, I do not actually know Mr. Mortensen (I love his name by the way— Viggo Mortensen—-it’s lyrical.  This is coming from someone named VanVleck.  Not so lyrical.

So, I shall now vow to make more of an effort to review movies about Viggo Mortensen and you, my kind readers (numbers 13 to 30 and occasionally 1,000) shall occasionally drop me a line to let me know what you like, or do not like, on my blog.

Oh, and I will try not to be a stalker myself.

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My Master’s Daughter, yes XUP this is MY daughter, not some Master of Tai Kwan Do’s daughter, or Master Chef’s daughter.  She is “MY” oldest daughter and she graduated with a straight A average for her Masters degree in education, so she is “my master’s daughter” and she is back to contributing to the blogosphere.

She is my favorite blog.  Sorry,  XUP but she is my daughter and  she is also the funniest person on this earth, and we are talking a lot of very funny people:

Like Crazy Aunt Purl

and Cake Wrecks

and even Blog | Anthony Bourdain

But, this girl was born seeing the world through funny eyes and her blog is the best ever; daughter or no daughter.  I mean, how many people can find a ton of laughs in cleaning a rabbit cage.  Braindebris’s Weblog.  And, I am talking tears running down my cheeks, laughing so hard I cannot talk now at the picture she has painted of her misadventures cleaning the rabbit cage.  You just gotta read it.

I would also like to point out that the other day I admitted to her:

Under the pressure to be witty and informing on Twitter, I am now cannibalizing your BrainDebris blog and stealing lines.  Oh, the humiliation.
And, now, she begins writing again, after a long absence.  Coincidence?  I think not!!!
HMMM!  There’s this little message at the bottom of her blog in size 3 font.  What does it say????
This blog is property of Braindebris@wordpress.com so back away from that copy/paste bucko and think for yourself!
The little smart aleck!  Guess I’m on my own with Twitter.

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I have come to the conclusion that you have to actually do something to have something funny to write about on a blog. Like Dad Gone Mad, who cooked shrimp and chocolate for his kids. Now, that is funny; positively gross, but funny.


Or A Mask to Hide Behind. in Britian, who has the most hilarious parents I have ever heard of.


Then, there is Masters Daughter, www.BrainDebris.wordpress.com who has a busy life and is hilarious — when she has time to write about it.


Then, there’s me. I get up, let the dog out, come in, get dressed (I am dressed when I let the dog out by the way, just in my pajamas.), do dishes, exercise, feed the dog and eat 1/3 cup of oatmeal myself. The dog does not appreciate oatmeal.


At that point, I look around the house. I am denied entry to the boys rooms because they are usually sound asleep yet. If they aren’t at work, they are sound asleep at 1p.m. I do not clean the boy’s rooms anyway. I do not snoop, although I have reserved that right should I suspect things like drugs, explosives, or dishes. Dishes being the main thing I open their door and look for.


I’m always sorry when I open their door, no matter what I find, so I’ve found it best just to do without bowls for a day until they decide they cannot eat cereal because I have no dishes to wash. The same with clothing.


My next step would be to look at the bathrooms, but frankly that is just plain disgusting at 7:00am, or anytime. I usually tackle that in a Haz Mat suit right before taking my decontamination shower.


Then, I am left with the front/dining/kitchen open L. It just ain’t worth it. Besides, I’ll never get my book done, if I spend all my time cleaning.

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I should state here that Military grandson is probably on his way to Hawaii this month, or next, for a tour of duty. Talk about luck. This boy has the best guardian angel ever. I’m just grandma, so no one lets me know what’s going on, of if he has arrived yet.


This photo is of my mother, during the 40s, in an authentic grass skirt and Hula wear that her penpal sent to her. Mom has always loved Hawaii and wrote letters to two Hawaiian’s at that time. One, Hilda, remains a friend and penpal to this day and had visited the mainland once to meet mom. This was mom’s chance to visit Hilda in her home. Mom looked her other penpal up in the phone book on the Big Island, and found his name, but did not call him. She remembers him fondly yet.


I loved Hawaii. I was not joking about moving there. I love the place. The air welcomes you, the people welcome you, the ocean is heaven, rainbows in the sky, flowers, nature, blowholes, fish, cute Hawaiian men. I mean what more could you want? And, since BrainDebris will probably be traveling to Hawaii next year, I want to fill her in on all the stuff to see and not to see. So, off we go— 


Our erstwhile travel agent set it up for us (she deserved her jail time for this part alone- see part one), to have a complimentary breakfast with the “Pleasant Hawaiian” people who, she told us, would book the things we wanted to see. Later, in touring Oahu, I saw numerous kiosks where you could walk up and purchase tickets for the sights you wantto see, on the schedule you want without being held captive, for half the day, as we were.


I really wanted to go to the Urasenke Foundation Tea Ceremony that morning. I probably made a mistake in trying to plan our trip to get everything in and that is never possible. But, it didn’t matter anyway as we were held captive by the “Pleasant Hawaiian” people until noon and we were not getting out of their grip without a fight.



First thing was this pleasant picture. Pretty Hawaiian girl, nice lei’s, sappy tourists. They took our pictures, they took the lei back. REMEMBER: almost every lei you are given is for a photo op. You will give them back the lei and you will pay for the photo. The flowers in these aren’t even real.


I have to say that Oahu was the touristiest island we were on. I live in a tourist county, so I do understand. Everyone makes their income off of the tourists and since tourists are generally happy, the locals are happy, pleasant people.


I would highly recommend going to Oahu first and then relaxing on another island or two last; where the memories you take home will be a better picture of the real Hawaii. Also, save some money for the real treasures of the other islands.


Back to our complimentary breakfast-They gave us a commercial of an hour of slides. It was interesting but I would prefer seeing the sights in person. Breakfast was cold scrambled eggs, fruit and one cup of juice. ONLY one small cup of juice. I know because the woman at our table asked three times for more and was told no. Forty-five minutes later, we finally got water, but no pats of butter for your roll; nope, not allowed. It was like prison food.


Booking, in this situation was bad. You had a roomful of thirsty tired, hungry, angry people sitting in a lunch room only a few people to actually book your tickets for you. There are kiosks to book shows, tours, etc all over the island and your hotel can do this also. Skip the bad breakfast.


Then we were escorted to Maui Divers. Mom is a jewelry nut and she had a ball picking out jewelry. I did enjoy the tour of the jewelers at work, and we were given complimentary Champaign to open our checkbooks. Okay, I have a teeny cynic somewhere deep inside me.


Do not forget, we were still being held by the “Pleasant Hawaiian” people, who then put us on a shuttle bus and waited at every exit to direct us back to our bus, lest we escape and they lose their cut from the stores they took us to. One of the neatest, and maybe saddest, things we saw was in their parking garage. An open truck load of coral was being brought in for jewelry making.


Downstairs from the Maui Divers was the cheaper jewelry store. They wait with a bucket of oyster shells in hand to wrangle that last dollar out of you. I am pretty sure our upstairs purchases put us in the two pearl bucket category. For four dollars we each picked a shell and I’ll be darn if we both didn’t get double pearls in our shell. What are the odds of that happening? Wouldn’t we love to buy this gorgeous $150 earring setting? I handed her $8, for the shells and left with our pearls in a plastic bag. There were stands all over the island that you could try your luck with an oyster shell. 


 It’s kind of fun though. Okay, I’m a lame tourist.


Next stop, Hilo Hatties. It is considered a “must stop shop” but it was rather expensive and we found better deals elsewhere. I think there are a few things you can only get there though. I did purchase a pineapple candle and some candy to send back home. Eventually we were let off the leash and I could breathe fresh air again.


I don’t want you to think we did not have a good time, because we did. Oahu has some great sights.



What we missed: Mom did not want to go to Pearl Harbor. She felt it was too depressing. If I were going back, I would definitely go to the Waikiki Aquarium. 


TOMORROW: What we did see on Oahu: The best Luau around, A great bus tour, Diamond Head, Polynesian Cultural Center, and mom’s high school penpal. A reunion made in heaven and more

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Unlike BrainDebris, I do not live an exciting life, filled with electron microscopes, hilarious husbands, and death defying children. The highlight of my life, this morning, was either, my husband going back to bed, an hour after he got up, because he was dizzy, or hearing oldest boy say, “9 out of 10 things I did made my mother scream.”


Lest I seem insensitive and uncaring, let me state, that husband has COPD and all sorts of other interesting side diseases, so dizziness is not a “call the ambulance symptom.” His disease has progressed for twenty years now and it is our life’s norm.


Since oldest boy will not enlighten me on the things he did that made his mother scream; only explaining that everything he did made her scream, and middle boy is gone for the week to a Native Sun Dance Festival, and youngest boy is taking an hour nap as getting up and eating breakfast was too exhausting to stay up all day, I am left with irritating Chihuahua.


Funniest thing that irritating Chihuahua has done all morning is to run around and sniff all her food hiding spots. She does this on a regular basis, ever since we watched the television special about what would happen if all human life was extinguished.


The St. Bernard, down the street, already has a little friend in his pack, so I believe the Chihuahua is concerned she will be on her own to forage for food, should we disappear. She is forgetting that getting out of the house will probably be her biggest problem. So far, the wild rabbits have all been able to outrun her, and she hasn’t figured out how to break into the cage of visiting rabbit yet.


So, please excuse me, as I just can’t find a thing to say this morning; opps, make that afternoon.



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Oh, those of you out in Blogland, you are being misled by the ready wit of Braindebris. But, I am here to tell you, that she wasn’t always such a cheerful, happy person.   


While daughter of eleven had a wooden box to pile her toys in. She was born with a touch of the pig in her and it was the only way to be able to walk across her room, Master’s Daughter a/k/a BrainDebris was born with a touch of the compulsive side of our family.

Being two years older than other daughter, and being obsessive about keeping everything she ever got her grubby little hands on (Do you remember those Post-It Note Wills she puts on our possesions?, she had a tad more stuff than other daughter bothered keeping. In fact, Master’s daughter’s room, by the time she entered kindergarten, consisted of three walls of shelves full of “stuff.” And, pity the person who moved any single item on these shelves. But, I skip ahead. 

Never mind the pile of toys, her first Christmas she stole the dog’s new rawhide bone and was very upset about giving it back. Now, this dog was not the friendliest dog in town. He was known to chew up little girls and spit them out. He did have a soft spot for her but, darn it, he wanted his bone back. 






She wasn’t even too picky about where she got her drink either













 And, if you wonder just why the tent looked like it did, see what BrainDebris did to our tree.  

We were ending a visit to my mother’s house one day, when Braindebris was about two years old. 

“Time to pick up your crayons, dear.” 


“Braindebris, pick up your crayons. We have to go.” 


“Braindebris, you pick up those crayons right now.” 


Whereupon, I put my hand over Master’s daughter’s hand and began picking up the crayons. Notice here, that “I, began picking up those crayons.” Brain Debris’ hands were cradled in mine, but trust me, the little bull head did not do one bit of picking up that day.

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Master’s daughter, a/k/a BrainDebris on WordPress, has graciously shared her phenominal memory with me, and given me a list of reminders so that I may write about grandma.  The first one, Macaroni and Tang caused me to laugh out loud; just those few words. And, I will share with you in a minute why I laughed, but some of the things on the list are just are not jogging my memory.

Like what is the Dress Boobs story? Was that cloth hankies instead of kleenex? Lace hankies, maybe. Mom does tend to keep her kleenex in her bra and sometimes a breadcrumb trail of them everywhere she has been, but I’m stumped by Dress Boobs?????

This issue fits in with another notation on the list: Nasal spray, kleenex, and bras. Mom was addicted to nasal spray. She has the worse sinus infection in the world, and it has lasted for forty years or more now. I think she puts off getting something done about it because she heard that surgery would give you two black eyes, and how would that look with her lipstick?  But, that’s not hilariously funny.  I think you should keep these stories daughter as my memory is shot.

I have to return the list of Grandma’s stories to Master’s Daughter. Especially since I have no idea what Flip Flops and hidden socks is.  Oh, wait, it just hit me, honest. It was all because Dad was quite convinced that mom’s washing of his clothing was the reason his clothing wore out.  If mother would just not wash it so much, he would have socks of steel that lasted for decades. So, dad took to hiding his socks. First, he would stuff them up his pants leg at night, so she wouldn’t collect them off the floor. When she got onto that trick, he got more creative. As time went on, she would have to search drawers and under beds for the illusive, but durable, dirty underwear. 

I am willing the following stories back to Master’s daughter, but I’m keeping the three last because I do remember them. Feel free, BrainDebris to add comments.

Ziplocs at the Wedding buffet
Before there were paper shredders
Aunt Lydia’s zucchini: I do remember, but I’m pretty sure you will tell it better
Aerosol deoderant: Ditto
The infamous bedspread: Hey that’s your story already, not mine to tell
and thou shalt not fart: OH YEAH!!

The 21 year baby book: I actually did tell this one a few days ago (July 2: Moms Cloud Tags, apparently they have to leach out of my brain in their own good time. Again, I’m sure there is more to the story that my daughter could add. She could dramatize her sorrow at being the only child not having a completed baby book. But, don’t let her fool you, she had a perfectly good zip lock full of bits of paper memories.

Macaroni and Tang: I have mentioned before that mom has a bit of an obssessive compulsive problem. She also has a fear of insects. I probably have memory problems because mom used so many pesticides, as I was growing up, that it damaged my brain.

Mom and dad retired to Arkansas, and as anyone knows who has lived in the South, there are a LOT of bugs. HUGE BUGS! Her house in Arkansas sported numerous hanging stripes of poison; which have since been taken off the market. To this day, she laments that she cannot find a hanging poison strip.

In a continuing effort to keep bugs out of food, mom took to saving glass jars. Salteens were taken out of their packaging and put in glass jars. Tang was taken out of it’s container and put in a glass jar. Now, why anyone would even buy Tang, to begin with, is a mystery to me. Mom was a lady of the fifties though and she had probably found a cake recipe to make using Tang. She has them for Mayonaise Cake and Fruit Cocktail cake and they are both, actually, very good. But, everything was taken out of it’s packaging and put in glass jars; which is what led to the Macaroni and Tang incident.

She had a glass jar of macaroni (taken from Mac & cheese box) but she could not put the cheese packets in it as that would have contaminated the macaroni. Okay, it comes that way in the box, but —.  Then, for some totally unexplainable reason, she did not just put the cheese packets in a jar but took the cheese out of the packets and put that in a jar. Anyone see where I am going with this???

One day, she had company and decided to make the children Macaroni and Cheese. The “cheese” was just not blending in like usual, so she added quite a bit more than she thought she should have to. When she served it, children all around the table spit it out, with unanimous “Ehuwwwws!”. You see, cheese from Mac and Cheese looks exactly the same as Cheese and Tang. She had served Macaroni and Tang and her grandchildren still talk about it to this day.

Of course, it’s not as bad as her friend who TWICE, not just once, but TWICE, cooked her frozen pizza upside down. I’m telling you that whole era is damaged from the bug strips. 

I believe I shall save, badonkadonk waiter for a future post.

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I was reading the comments on Master Daughter’s Blog this evening. And, had to give a shiver at one. Talisman, with his ADD comment, seems to have “foreseen” this post I was working on this morning, but had not posted yet.

I grew up in the television age and now live in the Internet age.  I remember placing my children in front of Sesame Street, as I made the morning doughnuts. Actually, I did make doughnuts, not every morning and certainly not for the healthiest of breakfasts, but I was playing June Cleever at the time.

One daughter, sat quietly and watched tv, soaking up all the information being fed to her. Expanding her brain, and her hips. She is my Master’s Daughter, who would still rather sit and read, knit or Blog, and who spends her summers off from teaching gifted sixth graders, by studying the life cycle of eggs or looking at tomatoes under an electron microscope, whilst wearing a space suit and a badge with a light that goes off right before she becomes supercharged and loses all her calcium. If you need an explanation, Shame on you! You haven’t been reading the most hilarious blog in the universe. http://Braindebris.WordPress.com At least I got it right that time.

The other daughter, sat, not quietly, using the hassock as a jungle gym. She spent the rest of her childhood being pulled by a dog while wearing roller skates (She wore the roller skates, not the dog). I believe she even took showers in those roller skates and delighted in standing on her head and waving her feet in front of the television, thus driving her Master’s sister to push her into the cabinet; (as in “push in and shut the door”)  on a daily basis.

Wikipedia, my favorite source for information, tells us that a study of 2,600 children, ages 1 to 3, in 2004 found that exposure to television may affect their attention span and that internet browsing may also. Attention span – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia.

In looking at my two daughters, I have to say that our family has disproved this notion. Master’s Daughter, the tv watcher, attended college as an adult, graduated with honors and a Master’s degree; all while raising three sons and Super-Sized husband. (For those of you not in the know, supersized husband is very tall  (at least compared to me), and has many traits of a man reverting to the age of twelve; thus becoming her fourth child. It takes a lot of attention span to keep up with that.

Daughter, who has eleven children, has floated most of her life. I do believe she still wants her roller skates back, but don’t we all and, perhaps, from what little tv she watched may have come the tendency to believe and do anything her husband tells her; thus she is clearly having a problem thinking for herself. Is ADD to blame? Certainly the number of children she has shows concentration in one aspect of her life. And, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love and adore all the munchkins and miss them terribly.

 To take this study one step further, I went to Psychology Today and took their Attention Span Test. Psychology Today: Self Tests. My family, when growing up, had the first television on the block. My father was addicted from the first time he turned that dial on. He took a night correspondence television repair course, well it could have been done by day too, most correspondence courses are somewhat flexible that way, but he worked for Combustion Engineering during the day.

As children from other houses in our neighborhood took home the word of how wonderful this invention was, that the VanVleck’s have, and nagged their families into purchasing a television, my dad became the man to call when it didn’t work right. His move, to retire to Arkansas, saw the largest bonfire in Lake County, Indiana, as we burned the television cabinets he had saved for years, over a two day period.

I felt that I was a good test sample to see if television may have affected my attention span, so I took Psychology Today’s test. (from the link above). This is their report to me:          “According to your score, you sometimes have difficulty maintaining your focus on a task and following it through until completion. People who have short attention spans tend to jump from project to project and are often known to be quite disorganized. This frequently results in missed deadlines, tardiness, and bills being paid late. “

I have never paid a bill late, well hardly ever, I do not miss deadlines and I am rarely tardy. However, I do have a problem with jumping from project to project. A Big problem.

Right now, I have so many projects either started or half done, that I could live to be two hundred and probably never finish them: quilt squares for Master Daughter, quilt for someone undecided (almost finished for ten years now), a quilt for each grandchild (most are already designed with fabric purchased, photo albums for each grandchild (pictures are sorted), sweater for husband (have yarn), endless photos to create paintings from (my new project involves shadows. That way I have an excuse to take more pictures, to put off more painting.), I have a garden sized gorilla just started in my ceramics studio and a project on women’s perception of beauty well underway. Add to that the desperate need to get the house organized and I’m looking at a life sentence here.  And, those darn “knit in the round” socks are cast on for the third time. One Mystery novel needs major editing and revision. One children’s picture book just needs to be put in order to send out.

However, I have just spent the last two plus years working daily on my Young Adult novel and I have fifty pages left of my fifth edit. I’m already crafting my query letter to agents and editors, and I have started a sketchbook that will, hopefully add interest-even if they give this to a book artist for illustrations, because it is a fantasy and maps and details are nice for kids to look at.  SO, when it is important enough, I can finish a project. Should we withhold judgment on that until the book is in the hands of a publisher? I need to also mention that it may take major surgery to make me finish a project, as that is how I started this one.

I have been a computer buff since the KAYPRO. They say the Internet also lowers attention span. If anything, it has helped mine as I tend to click too quickly and miss all kinds of stuff. Like on WordPress, the front page changes by the second. I’ll never know now, since I clicked too fast at sign on: just what kind of haircut your kid  gets when you let your punk friends take the child for a haircut,  or Why Bill Gates is just Now Learning What Dog food Tastes Like (He is retired in a New York walk up and reduced to this?) and  Just what does happen if you wear lipstick?

If I click too fast on my online bank, I am locked out time and again, until they decide that I am an intruder and I have to call the bank to reset my password. I am now on a first name basis with the woman who does this. So, the internet is forcing me to slow down and Meditate on which button to push next. Such decisions! No wonder I don’t have time to finish all my projects.

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