Just one more dream...

Ok, I absolutely promise this blog is not my dream journal. But this experience cracked me up. I was stuck on a pretty important plot point, and I just KNEW the answer was locked up somewhere in my brain, so I decided to harness the power of my subconscious. As I drifted off to sleep last night, I asked myself several times what to do about my sticky problem.

Then I dreamed a dream:
After a long time dealing with infertility, I was at the hospital, and I'd just discovered I was pregnant! The entire hospital staff lined up on a video phone monitor to congratulate me.

Soooo....
It appears my subconscious mind agrees with my conscious mind: Yep, it's in there somewhere, all right. This is not to say it's actually in there. Just that my waking and sleeping brains agree that it is.

To be fair, as I was brushing my teeth, I did get a good idea that didn't entirely solve the problem, but might be an intriguing approach to it. That first, half-conscious idea, is often the best, truest idea of the day.

Dreamin'...

I've been working really, really hard on getting this book done by the end of the month, and it's pervading my subconscious. Tell me, gentle readers, what the following could have to do with writing a book:

1) I'm pregnant, and "they" tell me it's time to go to the hospital. I don't really feel all that pregnant, and I don't look that big, and I haven't had any contractions, but still I'm lying in this bed, feeling dumb.

2) I have a blanket made of woven bands with these long, unsecured sections of pattern resulting in floppy strings hanging off the back. It's wearing out too fast because of the floppy strings.

3) I have sold my ostrich on the Internet. The guy who bought it is trying to tie the ostrich into his pickup truck, but it's not working. A bale of musty hay lies in the gutter down the street. The guy who bought the ostrich should pick it up for the ostrich to eat. (Hint: the book involves ostriches)

4) I have taken all the leftovers out of the fridge and made them into soup. The stove is out on someone's front lawn in my neighborhood. I plan to use the soup as my master's thesis, but I'm late to a meeting with my thesis chair. The janitor tells me my idea is stupid: "Your master's thesis needs to be about LIFE OR DEATH. Or else something really big. Not your leftover soup." (This was real soup. It wasn't that good.)

5) The crabapple tree in the back yard has suddenly grown HUGE. It looms over me, and I am afraid it will fall on me and crush me. It needs to be removed, but a) it gives nice shade to my bedroom window in the summertime b) I don't know how I'll get the stump out c) it will cost a lot to remove the tree.

Googling my blog

Signed up on Swagbucks to earn free Amazon.com cards, so I routinely google my own blog as a roundabout way of getting here and maybe earning a "buck" on the way. Each time I type in "lookunderthings," the search engine asks brightly whether I didn't mean "look underthings." As in, I suppose, "Look! Underthings!"

Ahem. We are NOT that sort of a blog. Though I probably just increased that sort of traffic.

It also suggests pages with wilderness survival tips--look under things so you don't miss important environmental details like rattlesnakes. That's a public service announcement I can get behind.

How not to parent

Had an interesting discussion with a 25-ish friend of mine, formerly one of my Cub Scouts. He's been around some blocks he wished he hadn't, and he was holding forth on the subject of parental reaction to children's substance abuse. His thesis was that, if they find out their child has been using/abusing, parents should stay calm, not freak out, and talk with their children about it instead of coming down hard with the punishments.

Sounded interesting to me, so later I ran this by Hammer, who is always quite willing to voice his opinions.

Me: (after expounding the theory)...so, what do you think about that?

Hammer: Well, Mom, before you told me that, if you ever catch me drinking, you'll remove my appendix without anesthesia, pickle it, and hang it on your keychain as a lesson to other stupid children.

(long pause)

Me: Did I really say that?

Hammer: (nods so vigorously I know he's not making it up, though I can't remember that conversation at all).

Currently trying to figure out how to use both approaches at once...

Annum Rasa *

It was a great trip to Grandma's house--my kids got to play with their two little cousins, Christmas itself was awesome, and we each had a chance to recharge in our own unique ways. But between the recharging and the 13-hour trip home in the snowstorm yesterday, my New Year's resolution turned into something like, "Do a lot more just sitting around next year."

The weather mirrors my resolution this morning. The whole street is still sleeping at 8 a.m., covered with a new blanket of snow--no paths defining where we need to/want to/are supposed to go or allowing us to get there easily. Just a blankness that invites staying in and sitting around.



*Just taking a stab at the Latin here.

Win-Win-Win-Win

If you came to this blog for cleaning tips, you should leave right away. Occasionally, however, I pick up a useful

Remedial Cleaning Tip of the Day:

You know those rust "spots" that form when you get a chip in a porcelain sink? Well, it turns out that a spot of rust ("spot", to me, implies "surface stain") can spread like sink cancer, eating away at the iron under the porcelain. Then, when you finally decide to apply CLR and elbow grease, you punch your thumb right through the thin tissue of rust spots. You can't even blame the kids!

So, I needed a new bathroom sink, right in the middle of the Christmas shopping season. Luckily, we have a ReStore nearby. ReStore is a thrift shop run through Habitat for Humanity. Individuals, contractors, and businesses donate unused building supplies and household goods, which are sold to the public. The proceeds benefit Habitat for Humanity.

Here are the four "wins":
-- Someone got rid of that spare bathroom sink they didn't need anymore.
-- I got a used bathroom sink with no holes (or rust spots!) for $10.
-- My $10 helps Habitat build houses for underhoused families.
-- A perfectly good bathroom sink stayed out of the landfill.

Can't think how to keep my perfectly awful bathroom sink out of the landfill, though.

A mind like a steel sieve

My son Hammer loves all things geography—he started with flags and maps and quickly moved on to politics and history. I do my best to answer his questions ("Mom, what did lead to the breakup of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth?" etc. ad infinitum), but mostly I point him toward his dad, who's equally good at learning and remembering those areas. I wrote a whole, heavily researched novel about the Book of Ruth, but I stutter and stumble over questions about places, people, times, and Biblical teachings I used to know inside and out. It just doesn't stay in my head.

Fortunately, Hammer and I have found a way to talk about geography. He is teaching me all the capitals of the world. I already knew some of the Greater Antilles (Haiti, Puerto Rico, etc.) , so that went OK, but it's slow going in other areas. Here's my haul of new knowledge for today (Pop quiz! Put away your books!)

1. What is the capital of Krgystan?
2. What is the capital of Tajikstan?
3. Of what country is Ouagadougou the capital?


Answers: 1. Bishkek 2. Dushanbe 3. No idea. But I like to say Ouagadougou.