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My thoughts released; a mind set free |
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These pages contain my thoughts, from meandering ideas and persuasions to deep cerebrations and serious mentations. Why, for what purpose? To release my mind and set creativity free. Somewhere inside the constraints of my mind dwells a writer, a poet, an artist who paints with words. In here I release those constraints and set the artist free. Perhaps, lost somewhere in the depths of thought, is a story or a poem, waiting to be written. 
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| It's Christmas Eve and everybody is settled in for the evening here. The two teens are in the older girl's room enjoying their gifts and watching something on television, Max (our new Husky pup) is sound asleep as is my wife and I'm spending a little bit of the eve with you. We started a tradition of opening gifts early on Christmas Eve day since we go to my wife's relatives on Christmas. I won't comment on my thoughts about that, except for the fact that my Mother-in-law is getting up in years and we never know which will be her last Christmas so I do it for her. Anyway, I was going to blite about something and now have completely forgotten what. It could be something with my advancing years or the fact that Max has disrupted my erratic sleep schedule, but I blame it on the Bulleit. Actually, I should blame it on my eldest adopted granddaughter who gifted me a nice bourbon glass that reads, "Old Lives Matter." She thought she was ordering a shot glass, but it holds a nice eight ounces or better. I figured I should show her my appreciation by using it, so I shot it with Bulleit and ice. It works nicely. But, I'm almost out of Bulleits, so I reckon it's time for bed... |
| Saturday we picked up a new puppy; an eight-week-old husky. It was quite late when we got home with him, so he had a short introduction to the rest of the family, a bite to eat, and a drink of water, then it was time for bed. He did pretty well for his first night in a new home, once we figured out how to keep him feeling secure. We made up a soft bed for him in a laundry basket and I put my t-shirt I had been wearing in with him, then placed it beside my side of the bed. It did the trick and he slept through the night. Yesterday, being his first day, was kind of an orientation for the little fellow. He played with the kids, explored the house, and got to go outside a couple of times. It was below zero and he has never been outside, so it was very limited. He would sniff around a bit, but as soon as his little feet got cold he would try to sit on my foot and verbally tell me he wanted back in. He slept in his bed again last night, waking whenever I got up to use the bathroom but never making any fuss. This morning we got up at six, while I got dressed, my wife took Max out and he made some yellow snow. Once back in, he tried to poop on his puppy pad and got most if it on it. We did get larger pads, so he should do better. He played with the kids a bit before school and helped Jasper wrap a present. He figured out quickly that wrapping a gift on the floor with a puppy in the house is rather difficult. After they left for school, Max and I went back out for a bit. He explored around a bit, played in the snow a bit, then wanted back in. He let me know verbally and by sitting on my foot. After we came back in, he settled down for a nap and I managed to get a little done in here while I waited for him to wake up and start Canine Kindergarten. Yes, his training has begun. He knows his name and comes to it the first time about 90% of the time. He discovered the joys of bacon and sat on my feet the entire time I was cooking it. Yes, I did give him a few small bites. Then, after breakfast, he enjoyed the bacon but his breakfast was Kibbles and Bits, we went back outside and I showed him how to navigate the three steps down to the patio. (Up till that point, he had been carried up and down.) He did pretty well, but it's good we have a thick mat at the bottom; he fell off the last step twice, but he's got it down now. I also had to show him, twice, how to go up the steps. On his first try he ended up under the steps, the second try his legs didn't quite reach enough, but now he gives a little jump and climbs them like a pro. He has also gone to the bathroom outside most of the day, so far. The first "accident" was my fault, I took too long in putting my coat on. He almost peed on the pad, but like most guys, his aim isn't the best. The second time he peed inside was while I was cooking liver and again did not get him outside quickly enough. The rest of today will be more training him to his name and more outside potty practice. My wife will be home about 3:30, the kids shortly after, and Max will be done with his "school" at about the same time. Why? Because then it's playtime and interactions with the rest of the family. Tomorrow we work some more on outside potty training and getting him used to a leash. Oh, and of course, he will have continued practice at learning what "No" means. |
| I posted yesterday afternoon: "We are going to look at a Goldendoodle, eight weeks old. Not certain about getting him, but I figure once I see him and hold him, I won't be leaving without him...". Later I posted about our new family addition, Pludo, -- a Husky. How did this happen? What changed? Why? Just settle down and hold tight, I'll explain it all in just a few minutes. But first I need to go see what he's up to... Okay, sorry about that. False alarm, he's sleeping between the chairs. Here's the scoop. After Hannah unexpectedly became ill and passed, we discussed getting another dog. We have always had dogs in our families, and since we've been together, so it was weird not having a four-legged family member around. For me, it was worse; I became the stay-at-home parent of two adopted and troubled children, and Hannah was by my side almost all the time. We watched online ads and local postings for the proper puppy, but every time we found some, they were already taken. Yesterday, we received a message that yet another litter we were looking into had all been taken. However, another ad caught my eye, Goldendoodles. They were about three hours away. We called and the lady said she had one male left, eight weeks old, and we could drive over and look at him anytime after seven. We arrived about seven-thirty, and she had the puppy in the house ready for us to look at; it wasn't a Goldendoodle. She had a litter of Goldendoodles, but they were already gone. What she had was one eight-week-old husky male. I was a bit upset about being deceived, especially after that long of a drive on winter roads. I did learn the Huskies were listed through the same site, but I still think it was a conspiracy. My wife, of course, had picked up the puppy. It was squirmy but comfortable being held, and he was very cute. He kept looking at me and squirming, so she handed him over and asked, "Do you want to hold him?" I knew this was another conspiracy, and I wasn't given much of a choice as she placed him in my arms. He instantly worked his head up under my chin and snuggled in for a minute, then proceeded to give me a gaggle of puppy kisses before biting onto my goatee with his front teeth and tugging. I held him for a few minutes as we discussed wanting a Goldendoodle, not a Husky. I set him down on the floor but he literally tried to climb up my leg again. When that didn't work, he proceeded to latch onto my pant leg and refused to let go until I picked him back up. Was he also in on this conspiracy? I asked to see the parents; The father was a Husky, but a bit small for his breed. The mother was very thin from having and nursing ten puppies, a bit skitterish, but friendly enough. Only, she was of medium height, her colors were a bit off, and both my wife and I instantly asked if she was a wolf. The woman never did really answer but changed the subject to how quickly the other puppies found homes. This guy has one ear that droops and one that stands erect, which I find to be very adorable, he is a bit timid and less energetic than his siblings, and just never seemed to "take" to anyone. The puppies were born in a barn and lived there until they found homes. They did get handled and were around a poodle and some cats, but I learned most of this guy's life was spent in two cattle stalls, one with hay for sleeping and feeding, the other for a potty with wood chips in it. The barn was dimly lit and heated just enough to prevent freezing. It also sounded like he would soon be on his way to the shelter. Of course, he and I kind of "clicked" so I told my wife I was taking him out to the vehicle and she could take care of the rest. He grumbled a bit as we drove, but did very well for his first ride. We stopped at a Walmart to get a few things; I waited in the vehicle with him. We had a basket with a blanket along for him, but he continuously tried to climb out and sit on me, so I took my coat off and placed it over the blanket. He snuggle into it and was content all the way home. He enjoyed our two teens and all the attention they doted on him, he explored the house a bit but mostly stayed very close to me. He went out with me this morning and made some yellow snow (it's below zero, so it's difficult to train him to go out when his little feet get cold instantly, so we are also training him to use a puppy pad). He seems to have adjusted very well, but he's had no training and I have my hands full; he seems to learn very quickly, which brings up the next question of his name. We discussed names last night and whittled the list down to two, Max or Pluto. The kids liked both but picked Pluto, but they were pronouncing it Pludo, so we altered the spelling. My wife and I, however, like Maximilian (we'll just call him Max). Now, I ask you, "What's his name, Pludo or Max?" I need to know so I can start training him... |
| It's starting out to be quite a week! Or, perhaps it's a continuation of last week that ended up being quite a week. I suppose that's the best place to start, with last week. For some, it's likely nothing at all, but for me, being very introverted, the best week is one where everyone's at school or work and I have the house to myself for most of the day. That was the case for me last week, until Thursday when my wife had to take a couple of days off because she was sick which interrupted my quiet time to write. Then, the weekend and our two teenagers were home, and the peace and quiet were replaced with chaos and noise. I maintained my sanity focusing on the week ahead when things would return to normal. There was one hitch, my wife had a medical appointment on Tuesday in Fargo ND. But, she would leave work to drive over, so it really didn't affect me. I should add, it's just a follow-up to have a few tests done to make sure everything is okay. But, Sunday the boiler malfunctioned and I had to call the landlord. He notified the heating service he uses to come on Monday to fix it. But, there was no set time on Monday so it was a waiting game. The day started fine, but he was calling before noon to see if they had shown up and fixed the boiler. They had not, so he called them and then called me back. Then they called, and a bit later called again; there was no writing with all the interruptions and waiting. They never did show up. Tuesday arrived with our first bad winter storm! My wife left for work, but she dislikes driving in crappy weather, and we were getting a crap-load of crappy weather. So, she left work at about eleven to come home and have me drive her to Fargo for her appointment. My morning was calling the heating place to try and get someone out to fix the boiler, and waiting for them to call back, and kind of a repeat of Monday. Also, with the weather being crap, school let out early, so I soon had two teens back home and soon after, my wife. I had already loaded up the Yukon with some winter survival gear so we could be safe on our drive, and shortly after, headed to Fargo. The first half-hour wasn't bad. It was sleeting, but the roads were good. Soon, however, they were covered in slush and ice. We had left early and given ourselves extra time; we made it in time for the appointment only to learn that they had canceled it. Yes, upon arriving and entering the parking ramp, she received a notification that her appointment was canceled due to the bad weather. The drive back home was a nightmare. We had heavy snow backed with forty-mile-per-hour winds drifting it across the ice-covered highway. With few trees, visibility was greatly reduced, sometimes to the point of not being able to see past the hood of the Yukon, but we arrived back home safe and stressed. Later that evening we received notice that school would start two hours late today. Trying to be optimistic, I told myself that I would have a few more hours of peace before waking the kids up for school. But, the heating people had not arrived, and now I'm waiting for them to show up to fix the boiler. Also, the school sent notice that there is no school today, so I have two teens home until tomorrow. It's not looking good for a quiet day to write, but I'm still being optimistic. If it gets too chaotic in the house, I have a crap load of snow to clean up. I also have to figure out how to get into the vehicles; my wife's car was in the garage, which only makes sense as she has to drive to work. So my car and the Yukon sat out and collected about a quarter of an inch of ice on them. Once I figure out how to get the doors open, I can park them, first one then the other, in the garage with the torpedo heater going until they unthaw and dry off. After getting into the vehicles and getting them de-iced, then shoveling snow I may be able to get a chance to check out Dabble Book Writing Software. It's kind of costly, so I want to try it first. The problem is, there's only a week to try it and I don't want to start my free trial until I have the quiet to see how it works... |
| I've been thinking about getting more serious about writing. I need to write, it's in my blood and in my soul, but currently and for the past few years, I have not been writing enough. Why? Interruptions and distractions. They have plagued me for years, but recently they have manifested into a kind of writer's block. Understand that I am very introverted; I enjoy being introverted, but it does create some obstacles. When I write I become lost in my work, it is my escape from life and all the voices in my head. Yes, I'm one of those people who cannot shut off my thinking, except when I'm writing or reading. Distractions yank me out of this place I refuge in, and unlike so many others, I cannot close them out. If they're short and minor I can re-escape, but if they are constant or require much time, I find it frustrating and difficult to get back into my work or story. My problem is I don't have a sanctuary to write in. You can call it whatever you desire, but I prefer the term, "Haven Hut". I need a place I can go and get away from distractions and interruptions, a place I can focus on writing. I've tried a spare room within the house, but it's no good, someone will either knock until I stop and inquire about their needs, or they will come in and just stand there, waiting for me to stop and inquire about their needs. I have also tried libraries, coffee shops, and other places, but again, I get interrupted, I have had total strangers stop by and ask me what I'm writing, or just ask some silly question as to why I'm so absorbed in what I'm doing... "Duh! I was absorbed until you came over and interrupted me!" Of course, I don't say it, or anything rude; they mean no harm, but really, can't you see that I'm busy? Anyway, my wife and I were discussing my writing. She is a constant promoter of my writing and getting my work published. (She is also one of the distractions, and knows this.) Her idea was, to write as a job, set regular hours, and approach it the same as if I worked outside the home. I agreed it sounded like a grand plan, but I explained the problem of distractions. Most days, she and the kids are gone either to work or school. But the days the kids are home disrupts this routine, holidays, sick days, and snow days are quite frequent. Also, our neighbor, and friend, likes to visit randomly and will stay for hours drinking coffee and talking. We discussed some options, but with money as it is, there is no possible way to rent an office. Also, any space for rent would likely be six or more miles away, and in the winter, I would prefer not to drive any more than I have to. I told her it would be nice if we had a hardshell camper I could use instead of our pop-up. She agreed that would be a solution, and if it's not our camping camper, I could set it up as a space specifically for writing. Problem solved! Well, it would be if we had such a camper to convert over to my writing haven. But, the price of campers has gone through the ceiling in our area. The only affordable options require a crap-load of work. So, now we wait, we look, and we hope to find a good deal on a small camper that we can afford to purchase and set up for my Haven Hut. |
| This song reminds me of years past when we would travel to my Grandma’s for Christmas. It was about a six-hour drive depending on road conditions. We lived in northern Minnesota, and she was in South Dakota. Most years the drive was good, the roads clear, and the weather nice; cold, but nice. One year, however, we had very little snow and she had none. Before we left, Mom called her to let her know we were leaving. Grandma informed her that there was no snow, it was going to be a brown Christmas. I remember after Mom hung up, she turned to Dad, “Ella started to cry because there’s no snow.” “There’s still three days till Christmas, I’m sure she’ll have snow by Christmas morning.” Mom told us kids to join hands and say a prayer. “Father, we ask, you see us safely to South Dakota, and could we please have a white Christmas?” The weather was a bit windy and damp, with snow forecast for later that evening. But we had an early start and should have missed out on any inclement weather. However, when we crossed into North Dakota, the snow started; heavy snow with gusting winds blowing it around. As we headed south, our speed continuously decreased as a result of slippery, snow-covered roads, and very limited visibility. Dad pushed on and soon we reached the sign that read, Welcome to South Dakota. In fact, we almost took out the sign as we slid sideways and then backwards into the ditch. The song, White Christmas, was playing on the radio! Nobody was injured, but the car was stuck, and we were miles from any town. Luckily a trucker came along and Dad was able to flag him down. He had a strap long enough to reach us and pull us out. Before we got back on the road, Dad gave the driver twenty dollars for helping us but he wouldn’t take it. While Dad was trying to pay him, a snowplow went by. We followed it all the way to the town Grandma lived in. Whenever I hear the song, I remember our “White Christmas”. |
| Well, it's Monday morning, a good time for me... Usually. Weekends are tough for me as a writer, or for that matter, whatever other role I'm trying to fill. Hell, they can even be rough for reading and or watching the television. Why? It would be easy to just blame others, but I know that's not correct. In truth, it's me. I am very introverted and do my best alone. Well, not all alone, I have always had a canine companion by my side which most of the time has worked well; we seem to understand each other and share some kind of primal bond. My wife has referred to me as a true dog whisperer. But, again I digress. What makes weekends rough is people. I have a wife and currently two teens sharing my home. Most days during the week, they are at work and school, so the house is mine from seven-thirty to three-thirty. But on days when there is no school, or no work, or both, I have to share it. That means, there is noise and commotion. Now, I've known many people who can read and or do other tasks through all kinds of chaos, and it doesn't bother them in the least. For me, however, it's extremely difficult to filter out these interruptions. I can to some degree, but not if it's persistent. For example, if I'm trying to read or write especially, even someone watching television in the same room will interfere and make it very difficult. Music playing will also distract me. The struggle is real. But, it goes beyond difficult. I have tried various ways of filtering out distractions. I've set my desk so I cannot see the flickering of the television, I've invested in sound-dampening earplugs, I've set up in different rooms, etc... But, even after explaining why I can't be disturbed and removing all distractions, one teen or the other will stand over me, watching me until I stop and ask, "What do you need?" "Well I know you are writing (reading, watching a show, or whatever I'm engrossed in) but can I...." Sometimes the younger teen will just stand there and not even say anything when I ask. I have come to understand this is her way of letting me know she just wants to sit on my lap and be held. My wife, who quite often tells me I need to get back into my writing, will do much the same if she is home. Shortly after I get started, she will interrupt, "I know you're writing and I don't want to distract you, but I have a quick question." Or something similar. Of course, none of these family members are introverted, so they do not understand. Also, it has something to do with focus and concentration. If I just sit around and do nothing, or fill my time with some meaningless tasks, they are fine; they will do their own thing, and hours, sometimes most of the day, will pass without any interactions with me. But as soon as I get lost in something, which is how I do most things, they will sense it and materialize out of thin air around me... __-__-__-__ So, I started writing about how this Monday was not a good Monday; most Mondays are great, everyone's back to school and work so I have peace and quiet. But, today my youngest teen is home recovering from a forty-eight-hour bug. She's feeling good but still needs a day to rest and fully recover. I got a late start with my typical weekday routine since she woke early. Finally, she was off to take a shower, then chill in her room. I logged in, looked about, then decided to write my blog entry while I had the opportunity. About halfway in, she was out of the shower and standing next to me, waiting. As I explained, that usually indicates she wants to sit on my lap for a bit. I set my computer down, she plopped down and cuddled a bit, then asked if she could have pancakes. "Sure, but you'll have to make them." She loves to cook and seldom needs any assistance with pancakes. Today, however, she needed a lot. In fact, I ended up in the kitchen making her pancakes while she watched. Once they were done, she was off to her room to eat and watch some TV. I sat back down with a cup of coffee to finish, but I barely was able to finish a paragraph before she was out again, asking for something to drink. By the time I did get back to my blog, I ended up off-topic! Oh no! She's back... |
| "It's Friday?" That was my first thought when I saw Weekly Goals in the Newsfeed. "Crap, I better go post my results," was my second. I set a goal to blite at least twice a week on Monday, and luckily already had both written so I could post that I had achieved my goal. In fact, I was thinking about making a blog entry earlier, but I wasn't sure what to write about. So, while I pondered this I worked on a poem for Express It In Eight and was about to see if I could whip out a Flash Fiction entry. Luckily, I scrolled through the Newsfeed and saw the Weekly Goal post that said it was Friday. "FRIDAY!" I just spent an entire day thinking it was Thursday. How does that happen? I should have known better. I just wrote a poem about time and life for Express It In Eight and then discovered I was off an entire day.  Like Leaves Floating We're leaves in a river It’s constantly flowing Floating with current Wherever it’s going Ahead is uncharted Memories of past Living each day Praying they last. |
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