Tag: books

Humanity

dudes, dames, and all the rest.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

its been ages again. so be it.

i’ve had covid this week, the full monty of fever, knockedflat grossness that seems to be its hallmark for me. lost a week’s worth of salary and i’m not going to lie, thats fucking horrible right now. but so damn what. right? I mean, lottery tickets don’t seem to work for me and i’ve just got to figure it out. i did definitely come to the conclusion that I cannot be bored like this again, any time soon. i don’t like tv enough. the pandemic definitely cured me of that. i’ve been hearing a lot of echos of 2020 this week.

i did read two books. the better one was by kerry clare, which was a good good read, a lovely long-term friendship story between women and their ways of dealing with motherhood, fertility, reproductive choices and friendship. the ways we rely on each other in that deep, ‘like a rock’ way until things like life and mates and work make rocks float and we get all worried about where the rocks have gone, and then we find them again. There are a few lines and descriptions that will be staying with me for a long time.

(kerry is not paying me for such a concise and sharply worded synopsis.)

its just women, or maybe me. the ways i’ll dip in and out of consciousness about my friendships, but how deeply i believe in them is unaltered. hm. i’m sure men have some version of something similar, i just can only speak for what i know myself.

and motherhood? what a shitshow of change-ups. the ways we almost die, gather our strengths again and then stretch so thin we almost disappear and then re-gain perspective, and its over and over again, and are rewarded by kids who mostly leave without even knowing us.

(aha. do you think its the meds talking? i don’t know either but holy shit.)

sigh. I’m fine, really… but much older lately. Have one kid gone and uncommunicative 9/10 days, and one teenaged boy who is constantly and bitterly disappointed in me, and then a pre-teen lovebug who is going to shock and thrill me every day for a long time.

i’m figuring it out. as always. or maybe not. but i’m here for the ride.

love you.

miss me, miss me, now you gotta kiss me.

boy and girl sitting on bench toy
Photo by KawaiiArt1980 on Pexels.com
Humanity

Monday again. Queen of Procrastination here.

Lovelovemotherexpletive

This has been a very weird summer for weather here. So much moisture. Either humidity to knock you down or just plain rain. The gardens are lush, but much of my tomato world is not ripening, because SUN, mr. golden sun, hasn’t been shining down on me.

If you know that song and it is stuck on a loop in your brain right now? I’m sorry and welcome to my world.

I’ve got a big writing project and I’m spending a lot of time avoiding it. This is not good. Seriously. Yesterday I watched a bunch of tv, used the weedwhacker in between bouts of fixing the damn string on the weedwhacker and bought a damn wheelbarrow, which I have been needing for a damn long time. I have big plans for it. But working in the rain kind of sucks. and dudes, i am supposed to be writing. My brain is a damn wild horse and I’d rather just watch it run than get the damn thing corralled.

DAMN.

I finished a book this week too. The Memento, by Christy Ann Conlin. Really liked it. Makes me think of Grey Gardens a lot, but with kids, and Canada, and a little bit of supernatural thrown in. Well-written and thought-filled.

I’m also reading Slaughterhouse Five again. I’ve got a kid who has my delicious ability to procrastinate and we’re both flying high with not doing the right things in the right order. So, I’m reading it and he’s sleeping, and I’m not working. Win.

Because clearly, I have time. (WTF?)

Lousy pictures taken with a laptop. but cheez. I don’t really care, and I do, all at once. Sigh.

I’m off to find something to do besides write, I guess.

I predict, I mean. I’ve got ten days left to get the majority of this thing done, and I’ve got ten percent of it done. TEN.

in ten days my beloved friend that i haven’t seen in 8 years will arrive and i’m so happy i want to lie down like a whale on a beach and die. (or be saved, i think thats way better than the other.) Someone roll me into the shallows please, with twinkies, and some ringdings please. Maybe pizza and a beer?

Ah shit. Someone motivate me. Please?

Humanity

Bullets clattering.

Lovelovemotherexpletive
  1. My son turns 16 today, is already 16, in fact. What a joy that kid is. I admire the hell out of him and can’t wait to see what his life will hold. ( i mean, i can wait, i can wait, but it will be a joy, it will.)
  2. I’m supposed to be writing a shit ton today. I’m not. Its not quite ten and i’ve been eating a lot. Birthday boy isn’t here, I had my celebration for him last night. I feel unhinged. Do fathers feel this or is it the damn chromosome thing of female?
  3. I mowed the lawn this morning to try and beat the heat and discovered that barefoot is actually not safe and also, that random swerves and curvy paths are not as satisfying when you only mow for a half hour. i have a maze-like path i have to follow in order to get to the garden without walking in tall grass. This morning’s interpretive mowing was shortsighted.
  4. I just had the most fun ordering the summer reading books for the boys. Honestly, I’m going to read them all, including some re-reading. Slaughterhouse 5? BABY! And, i don’t think i’ve ever read Black Boy, by Wright, so I should. And I will. Best summer morning ever. (see #2)
  5. I’m also writing here, (#2 again) and I feel good about it, shimmering in my sweat as I am, I feel good about it. Having books coming in the mail is a pretty damn enticing thing. I have to finish the writing in order to make money to buy more books. Someone help me (besides the two people i have already enlisted to hold me accountable. Oh god.)
  6. I downloaded an app which will block my from social media when I ask it to. So helpful and I’m incredibly aware of my own self-disdain. “For chrissakes kate, just press ‘off’!” well, thank you very much, inner critic bitch.
  7. I don’t have any more bullets. I’m out. Hiding behind the suv in the shootout, no ammo. Either come and rescue or let it be quick. Maybe the work won’t see me if I crawl under the suv?
grassy meadow with flowers in nature
Not my lawn, but a happy one! Photo by Jill Burrow on Pexels.com

Maybe?

love love,

kate

Humanity

Taxes and Laughter

Lovelovemotherexpletive

My taxes have been significantly delayed because, somehow, the form I needed from xyz was sent to georgia, where I have never lived, and not to me, here in fabled Massachusetts. Now that the form has arrived, complete with georgian address still, I can complete the package. (Extension was filed, and etc, for those who worry.)

But why I laugh? Firstly, since a book arrived in the mail today… I am deeply curious, if my job is writer and editor… can I claim a tax deduction for my book purchases? Because, if anything is a tool for a writer, it is a book that someone else has written. It is the very education and training that one finds at the library, if one is that sort.

if one refers to oneself as one, for instance.

that is the sort I am, these days. The girl who keeps buying books, or borrowing books, in the hopes that her brain will click back in and run wild through the secret gardens and find Dickon, who is my dream guy, albeit 34 years ago.

I’m being forced to go through and figure out how much I made this year on my writing (close to nothing, yes, not livable, no.) and then how much I paid for the privilege of trying to get one of those jobs. (more than I made? almost! hows that for fun learning?!)

It is better to laugh than to have to reassess one’s whole life because of taxes. Motherfuck though.

I think this might be therapy laughing. Or psychosis.

I’m not at all sure.

love love,

kate

collage photo of woman
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

Humanity

All quiet

Lovelovemotherexpletive

For the first time in my fifteen year shift as mother, all three children were throwing up at the same time. (first, and only. RIGHT?)

Its quarter to ten in the morning, and everyone is lying down somewhere, even the dog.

I haven’t been out to let the chickens out as I’m finding it hard to take more than ten steps at a time. 🙂 I’ve been through tougher spots than this. There was a two week period a few years ago, where the kids all went down consecutively, so there was never any break. This was just one night and at some point, they all stopped throwing up long enough to catch a few hours of sleep.

and now its quiet.

I have a book at my side that is creeping me out, called THE HUNGER, by ALma Katsu. For those of you who regularly read scary things, this is probably not scary. But I’m a novice, and I’m getting spooked by the ominous and the foreshadowing. My brain already knows whats what, but I am waiting, waiting, waiting to find out who and how. Its set in westward expansion times (Donner party) and there is a wagon train and bloody mystery. (even mormons, for godssake.)

So this is what I’m doing, after stumbling to the study to pick up this piece of computer, I am going back to it. Reading. Listening hard for coughing that will lead to more throw-up or throw-up laundry. We shall see. This is the gig.

When my kids were sick last night, they were so grateful. It was insane, but I recognize it. When someone takes care of me when I am ill, I am also so grateful. I love it, in fact, because I get to say to my children out loud…. I love being your mother, all the time, even when you are sick. You are my babies, forever and ever, and I will always take care of you.

Getting to say that, in the middle of the night, to a weak child, while feeling weak yourself? Stunning. Adding to that the sincerity involved? Massive.

So, its all quiet here. And I’m okay so far. Fingers crossed on this. all the fingers, please.

Its not all bad. Not even nearly.

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