You’re Putting WHAT In The Closet?

My dream, folks. I’m putting my writing aside for a while because it has morphed into a guilt-infested monkey hanging on my back.

“Oh, no,” I hear you cry, swooning with shock. “Will That Nolen Chick delete her blog – nay, her very existence – off the interwebs now?”

Shocking!

BA HA HAAAA!! Yeah, fat chance of that.

I’ve realized over the last few weeks that writing isn’t fun for me. I feel guilty that I haven’t touched any of my three manuscripts in weeks (memoir), months (mystery), and years (children’s book). I feel guilty that I’m ignoring the multitude of writing-related tweets, e-mails, and Facebook notifications I get daily. I feel guilty that I have books about writing that I keep meaning to read, but somehow never get to. A dream shouldn’t feel like this, so I’m going to shelve it for a while. I’m not giving up on it – I’m just laying it down until it sounds like fun again.

I’ve spent a lot of time & energy recently avoiding writing – what will I do with all of that extra time? I’m going to clean my house. Now before you go wondering if the gypsies have shamed me into this, I assure you they haven’t. I was convicted a couple of weeks ago that I’m a wife first, mom second, and everything else comes after those two things. Part of those top two jobs is getting my house in order – literally.

I don’t live in a pigsty, but there are some things that have been on my to-do list longer than kid #3 has been alive. That’s 6 1/2 years, if you’re keeping track. Like the top of our computer desk. Ick.

There’s a whole other layer of crap just behind this first layer. Plus there’s about 1/2″ of dust up there. It’s embarrassing, so naturally I post it online.

Or the three ginormous boxes of photos that need to be scanned onto one of our external hard drives. Or the box of video tapes that need to be converted to digital. I’ve been telling myself for years that I’ll get around to doing those things someday.

Guess what, amigos? It’s someday.

I’m excited about this.

I’m still going to blog, but now it’s going to be just for grins and giggles. No ulterior motives like building a platform to impress potential publishers or agents. It’s just you and me, kids!

Sweet, Eloquent, Restless, Charismatic

I saw this graphic on a friend’s Facebook page this morning:

My four words were sweet (really?), eloquent (I hope so), restless (I know so), and charismatic (interesting). Honestly, I run from being described as “sweet.” Not that I go out of my way to kick puppies or anything, but to me, “sweet” is synonymous with “doormat.” Maybe I’m stereotyping sweet people here, but when I hear someone described as sweet, my mind conjures a vacuous person who isn’t assertive, witty, or original. I don’t think of people as sweet. They’re kindhearted, generous, naive, or just plain clueless. Sweet is long golden-blonde ringlets with a pink bow.

I get the restless thing. Maybe it’s just adult ADHD, though. Either way, I’m comfortable with that word. Eloquent and charismatic – I’d like to think I’m both of those, but I don’t think a person can honestly declare herself either. But I’ll try anyway.

I’m eloquent and charismatic.

There. Was that believable? Yeah, I thought so.

So what are you? Spill – I want to know.

My Trashiest Post Yet

Yes, folks, this is going to be a trashy post. Full of trash.

I don’t know if everyone would call the stuff trash, but I do. Actually, I call it “yard trash” and Hubs and I spent the weekend working on getting it out of our backyard. We made three trips to the Eco Station (the dump) to get rid of it all. The first two pictures below are of the second trip we took with the Pinon pine needle trash. Even though that pile might not look all that big, it was. And we had to rake/shovel it all out of the truck ourselves. That was icky, hard work.

The second pile of yard trash.

The next two pictures make Kid #2 sad. She declared me a “tree killer” when we started cutting limbs off the mostly-dead ornamental plum tree outside her bedroom window. Unlike life in “The Princess Bride,” mostly dead in my backyard means that the tree must go. We actually had two trees die in our backyard over the last year. How bad a gardener must I be tokill trees?

We managed to get all of the sharp, pointy limbs in one load, but we only had to travel about a mile to get to the Eco Station near us. If we’d gone to the one where we dumped the pine needles (10-ish miles away), I doubt the whole load would’ve made it there. In case you’re wondering why we went to two different sites, it’s because the one nearer us only has dumpsters. We Hubs can throw limbs into a large dumpster, but we didn’t want to try to shovel all that pine needle trash up into one. It was hard enough just scraping it out to the ground.

Sticks of death

Stabby, pokey sticks of death

Want to know the worst part? My yard doesn’t look all that different. It’s still dirt with weeds here and there. Grass comes next.