Food for Dragons

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Gina pulled her apron down from the hook on the back of the door and put it on. It was heavy-duty, made of canvas and almost ample enough to wrap around herself twice. She pulled the strings around to the front and cinched them into a neat bow.

Gina placed her hands on the wooden workbench and dropped her head in a silent plea. Oh please, she thought, let today finally be the day they eat. After taking a deep breath, holding it, then slowly letting it out, she got to work.

Gina pulled vials of spices down from the shelves over the workbench and cut snippets of thistle, rosemary and thyme from the potted plants under the long row of mullioned windows, mixing, measuring and weighing ingredients. Herbs and unique vegetable preparations were her specialty.

Not long ago, Gina had been a culinary student, excited about beginning her internship. The restaurant she’d been placed at was small, housed in an odd brick tower located in a back alley in the historic part of the city. It was very old, and very, very exclusive. Or at least, that was how the Chef explained it when Gina questioned the unusual architecture and lack of customers.

That first day Chef Zorelio asked Gina to fetch a few more potatoes from the root cellar in the basement. She hadn’t been able to find any, just carrots, parsnips and a few malodorous onions. “No, no! They’re at the back, all the way in the back. You didn’t go far enough in.”

Obligingly, she went back down the narrow stone staircase, Chef Zorelio stomping down the steps behind her. He ushered her back into the root cellar, poking her between the shoulder blades with a gnarled finger to urge her forward.

The root cellar was long and narrow, and there was no light other than what came through the open door, so it seemed reasonable that perhaps she’d just overlooked the potatoes the first time, but surely they couldn’t be so very far from the entrance or the other vegetables?

Just as she was about to turn and say this to Chef Zorelio, a trap door opened and she found herself sliding down a metal chute into pitch blackness. She must have hit her head when she landed. When she awoke she was here, in this wretched tower that resembled the restaurant, yet was worlds away.

The circular room looked like the restaurant dining room, but here it was the kitchen. It was lined with windows that looked out over a vast valley full of trees and vegetation, with no signs of human life for as far as the eye could see. Not only that, but for as far as she could see through the brass telescope mounted on the windowsill as well.

Chef Zorelio was, in fact, not a chef at all. He was a breeder of Dragons in a world parallel to her’s. After a blight killed off the ubiquitous vine that was the dragons’ primary food source, he brought her here in the hope that with her knack for creating unique, flavorful vegetarian meals she could devise a recipe that would tempt them.

Zorelio was desperate, and desperate men were dangerous. He made it known in no uncertain terms that she would remain captive here until her task was complete, or else. Now the clock was ticking and she didn’t dare think about what would happen if she failed.

Dragons could only survive a week or so without eating. But so far nothing Gina concocted had appealed to the picky flying reptiles. Day after day she mixed, whipped, roasted and braised to no avail. Each new preparation was roundly rejected, leaving her more and more discouraged.

The sound of vast wings displacing massive amounts of air in the distance, like muffled thunder, caused Gina to look up from the pot she was stirring. On the horizon, she could just barely make out the shape of the dragon pack, coming closer by the minute.

Making haste, Gina poured the thistle stew into a pail and hauled it to the windows. She threw open the window pane before putting her eye to the telescope. There were three dragons today, two adults scaled in sleek orange, and a smaller one whose scales shimmered with the iridescent undertones of a juvenile.

Gina hefted the pail up onto the sill and stepped back as the dragons swooped in, their leathery wings stretched wide. The adults hovered just beyond the window, plumes of white smoke curling from their nostrils, while the baby dragon came to rest on the window ledge. Gina’s throat constricted; she could see the poor thing was weak from hunger.

The little dragon craned its long neck towards the food, head cocked with curiosity. “Come on, baby,” Gina coaxed. “Just take a bite. I promise you, it’s good.” As the dragon extended its long tongue, Gina hardly dared breathe. Both their lives depended on what happened next.

#flashfiction

#magicalrealism

Back to the Future

The last time I posted to this blog was way back in the pre-Trump, pre-COVID19 era. Sometime around the end of 2014, to be exact. That post was an announcement about moving to my new (now old) website, which no longer exists. 

I happily blogged at the new site until my domain expired without my realizing it. When I tried to renew it, I found someone else had purchased it and now wanted an exorbitant amount of money to return it to me. 

Um, no.  

Fast forward a bit, and here we are, all staying at home trying to flatten the curve of this damned pandemic. It's just me and the animals here in the house, so I have a lot of time for introspection and reminiscence, and I happened to reminisce about blogging. 

On a whim, I searched up my old domain name. Apparently, I'd accidentally waited the bastard out, because kellyospina.com was available again. I quickly snapped it up. From there it didn't take much to un-archive my old Blogger account, link it to the domain, and here I am. Now, the question is what do I blog about? 

The original premise for this blog was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with myself after leaving the non-profit I helped co-found. Then, just as I was getting started, three kids fell into my life. Hand-to-hand combat with CPS, the legal system, and immigration became my daily grind, all while changing diapers, checking homework, and trying to manage everyone's Big Feelings. It was an intense three-year adventure, but at the end of it the kids went home and I found myself right back where I started, trying to figure out what to do with myself.

I had some big goals back then. I wanted to buy a house, get published, and get myself sorted out financially. So what happened with that?

Buy a house - check. I bought my condo in 2016, and I'm still just as over-the-moon grateful today as I was on the day I signed on the dotted line and it became mine.

Get published - check (kinda). I published two flash fiction stories, so I guess technically I'm "published." But both of the novels I wrote are still in first-draft status, and still not very good. Guess I gotta keep working on this one.

Get myself sorted out financially - check (kinda). I'm able to survive with just one job now, so that's a huge plus. I'm finally in the 401K at work, which is another plus, and owning a home means I'm building equity, which is also good. But I'm still only one big car repair away from financial ruin at all times, so there is still plenty of work to be done in this category too.

Do I have any new goals in 2020? Why yes, I do. But I'll blog about those another day. 

The thought I'll leave you with for now is this: I still may not be living in the fast lane, but if I'm going slowly these days it's by choice. I'm appreciating the small things, living in the moment. I'm "doing me" in ways I couldn't when I was raising a child by myself, fighting the good fight as an activist, or being a foster parent. 

I don't know where this blog is going to go from here, but I think I'm going to take my time and just enjoy figuring it out.

2014 Milestones

As 2014 draws to a close I am preparing to self-publish my very first book. If all goes well, Kate Gets On With It, will be published on Smashwords in early 2015.

Between preparing my manuscript, the Thanksgiving holiday, and various other things, blogging has fallen off the radar.

Standing here on the cusp of a new year, with such a big goal finally about to be realized, it feels important to pause and give thanks for all the good things that 2014 has brought, namely:

• The kids and their mom are happy, healthy and living together in their own home. 


• Big Brother has a year of experience in the elevator industry under his belt.


• All the nieces and nephews are doing outstandingly well in school.


• The Princesses continue to explore their love of reading and creative writing.


• Baby Brother, not one to be left in the dust by his big sisters, is also discovering the joy of books.


• A broken refrigerator, two car accidents, and a lengthy furnace installation provided timely reminders of just how blessed we are to have so many modern conveniences.


• Since the kids and their mom moved out, Big Brother and I have been rediscovering the joy of simply spending time together.


• The kids and their mother have continued to attend my church, which brings me (and I suspect the other congregants as well) great joy.

These are just some of the highlights of a year that has been chock full of blessings for me and mine.

What did 2014 bring in your world? What are you looking forward to in 2015? Feel free to share in the comments.

The Devil is in the Details

In my last post I asked you to help me decide if I should stay here in New Jersey, or move to West Palm Beach, Florida, and I haven't posted since. I'm sure you're wondering, am I staying, or am I going?

The answer is, I still don't know.

In my favorite sorts of books a parallel universe is sometimes created when a major event could go either way, with both possibilities then playing out oblivious to one another. I feel like this has happened to me. In one universe, I chose to stay here, and life goes on pretty much as it always has. In the other, I chose Florida and am living life among the palm trees. From here where I stand, at the point where the universe split into two, I can see both lives playing out in great detail, and it is in those details where the difficulty lies.

Neither universe has "happy ending" written all over it. In both realities there is both good and bad. In New Jersey, I'm here with my family, and still have my job, but as the years pass and the cost of housing increases it becomes more of a struggle. I'm not able to help as much as I would like with Big Brother's wedding, or the Princesses quinceañeras. In Florida, the money situation is better, but it is a lonely existence; I have sunshine and blue skies, but I don't see my son or family nearly as often as I would like, and the Princesses and Baby Brother even less; As they grow up, we begin to drift apart.

Anyway, for now I've decided not to decide. I spoke to the relative who has been holding his condo for me. We agreed he can't wait indefinitely, so if he rents it, he will let me know. If things change here, and Big Brother gets a better job and his own place, I will let him know.

Who knows what the next six months might bring for all of us? By then I might feel ready to take on a new horizon in a new state. Until then, you can continue to find me right here where I've always been, Stuck in the Slow Lane.

Civil War: Head vs. Heart

Did you ever have one of those moments when you are about ready to give up on something you'd be hoping for, when something surprising happens?

Have you ever had one of those moments, the ones where your heart and your head are telling you different things?

I've bumped up against a couple of those moments recently myself.

A relative in Florida has a condo he isn't living in at present. He wanted to rent it out, and asked me if I might be interested? My bank account having just been drained by the bed bug debacle and Big Brother's automotive issues, I didn't even think about it. I told him thanks, but no thanks.

That should have been the end of it, but after I hung up the phone I couldn't stop thinking about my decision, wondering if maybe I shouldn't dismiss the offer too quickly. No, moving now was never part of the plan, but plans can change, can't they?

The more I thought about it, the less crazy moving to Florida seemed. Long story short, I called him back and we talked through the details. For once in my life, the dollars and cents actually added up in my favor. At first I thought wow, this is a no brainer! But the more I thought it through, the more I realized, this isn't going to be an easy choice.

Big Brother is my heart. Do I stay here, with him?

While my head says this is a good idea, a great idea, even, my heart is saying it doesn't want to leave my son. My baby might be twenty-one years old, but he's still my baby. Being far away from him indefinitely isn't just upsetting, it actually feels wrong on the molecular level. And then there are Baby Brother and the Princesses to consider, too. How would my moving so far away affect them, after all the loss they've already been through?

Or should I choose palm trees, sunshine and financial stability?

All the things I love about Florida--the warm weather, the endless beaches, the more relaxed pace of life--all seem hollow and meaningless when I think about being there without Big Brother; Spending time with him is, truly, my definition of happiness. Yet when I try to envision my future if I stay, the picture isn't a pretty one. I can never afford to buy a home here, and rents will only continue to rise. Retiring isn't likely if I continue to be a New Jersey resident, not unless something big changes.

To only complicate the matter more, my spiritual beliefs have been nagging at me, too. How does moving so far away fit in with my desire to more deliberately live with an Attitude of Gratitude? Giving up everything and everyone I know in search of something more fiscally advantageous doesn't seem much like an act of gratitude, does it? But then again, is wasting an opportunity like this really any better?

The negative voices of my insecurities have made a point to weigh in, too, telling me that no matter what I choose, I'll probably just screw it all up anyway.

I know a decision needs to be made. I owe it to my job, to the relative who is holding his condo for me, and to my son and myself.

I'd love to hear what YOU think about this whole dilemma, so please take a moment to leave a comment with your opinion, or vote anonymously below.

My pocketful of dreams

My birthday present to myself this year was business cards.

I don't really need business cards, and it wasn't even about wanting business cards. It was more about making a promise to my future self not to give up on our mutual dreams.

In the month since the cards arrived I've only used six; I gave two out to real people, and four more went through the wash by accident. After the washing machine disaster I know I should keep them in my handbag, but I like reaching into my pocket and feeling them there, a tangible piece of my dreams.

Some might call this faking it till you make it, but I have a different name for it: motivation. I know that success isn't about the end result, it is about getting up every day and doing the work, even when it feels futile. And believe me, it feels futile pretty darned often sometimes.

So if you spot me on the street, feel free to ask me for my business card. I'll bet you dollars to donuts I'll have one in my pocket, ready and waiting.

Do you ever feel you left your dreams too late? I have. All in Good time tells how I got through it.

A letter to the Universe

Today I turn forty-seven and embark on a brand new year of life.

My happy birthday hug from Luna

I've been pondering what values, actions and ideas I should be cultivating this year. Out of that pondering came this list:

• Live in the moment. 
• Be grateful
• Be creative 
• Be kinder and more patient (with myself as well as others). 
• Less social media
• More walks
• Less talking
• More writing
• Less judging
• More listening

Today, I put this list out into to the Universe.

I am calling on God, or my own subconscious self, or whoever or whatever it is that needs to be put on notice that these are the things I want the forty-seven-year-old version of myself to be about, and to ask for help, for guidance, for strength and protection as I continue to splash along through the currents that flow beneath the surface in the river of life. 

Only a couple more scenes to go to complete my second draft

As I work on my novel today, fueled by strong coffee, kept company by my favorite feline/canine duo, I will be beginning the year as I intend to go on: present, creative, focused, and open to the magic of all the unexpected possibilities waiting to be discovered just over the horizon.

Big Magic: An Afternoon with Elizabeth Gilbert

The county where I live is celebrating its 300 year anniversary this year. Literally hundreds of events have been planned throughout the year to celebrate the occasion, one of which I attended yesterday, a talk given by county resident and best-selling author, Elizabeth Gilbert.

The topic of Ms. Gilbert's talk was "Big Magic." She spoke about her personal journey as a writer, and how often magic, in the literal sense, factored into it. She is a excellent speaker and it was a great talk. She spoke about ideas, and how they flit from person to person, waiting for someone open enough to let them in, and ready enough to manifest them into the world.

So much of what she said resonated with me. I, too, am a firm believer in magic. In fact, I have always secretly thought of prayer as being a great deal like casting a magic spell. Both prayers and spells are powerful words, infused with the hopes, dreams and intentions of the one uttering them with devotion, and involve calling out to a source of power and mystery outside of ourselves in order to create change. I don't see a difference, personally, but maybe that is just me.

Regardless, I do believe there is a magical element to creativity, one that all creative people know about and can relate to. We may call it different things, saying "I'm in the zone," or "the muse took me," or "I had a vision," to describe it, but we've all been there and know that whatever it is, when it strikes, the best thing we can do is roll with it.

Something else that Elizabeth Gilbert said was meaningful to me, and very liberating. She shared how she discovered she simply cannot write fiction when her life is in chaos. She needs her house to be in order to be able to produce fiction, yet during times of chaos she still relies on writing to get her through it, and has, in fact, turned that writing into two best-sellers, "Eat, Pray, Love" and "Committed."

I thought I was the only person who felt this way. In fact, I considered it to be a major flaw in my creative ability. It is true that I clung to writing like a drowning person clings to a life preserver during my time as a foster parent; It was the one thing that allowed me to keep a sense of my own identity as I was swallowed up whole by second-time-around parenthood. Yet, looking back on that time period, when things were mostly under control, I was prolific, writing a new flash fiction every week. But when things got wild and wooly, I reverted mostly to blogging, using the blog as much as a tool to manage my own feelings as to document our journey together.

Judging by his smile, Toby approves of my current reading material.

I'm sure there are many people out there who can create while the storms of life swirl about them, whose creative genius is fueled by the force of the gale. I just don't happen to be one of them. Fact is, I'm an introvert who craves peace and solitude, so living with a crowd of boisterous house guests who stick around for three years is not the ideal situation for fostering my creativity. And let me just say, these damned bedbugs and the chaos that accompanies them sure aren't helping any, either.

When I zoom out, to look at the bigger picture, I can't help but see the connection to my three year plan. My plan is centered around three things, achieving financial stability through home ownership, getting published, and finding balance. What I didn't see before, but which is crystal-clear now, is that achieving these things has one true goal, which is to put my house in order so my most authentic self, the part of me that feels that magic and creates more magic from it, can flourish.

My blog has been a journey of self-discovery ever since the beginning, as illustrated by this early post "Who am I?"

Meal swap test run results

In an earlier post I mentioned one of my cost-saving strategies was going to be to start a meal swap club. Not just to save money, but also to save time and to ensure we eat well even on busy nights.

I decided to do a test run, to see if bulk cooking was something I felt I could keep up with if this got off the ground.I planned my menu, did a shop, then got cooking.

The three entrees I decided on were veggie lasagna roll-ups, meatloaf patties (to make it easy to freeze individual portions), and two kinds of pot pies (tofu and chicken). I picked these three things at random, mostly because I thought they would freeze well.

The cooking wasn't too bad. The hard part was having three different meals going at once.

 

Once I got into a rhythm, it wasn't too bad. After the first entree was finished and packaged the rest seemed to go quicker.

Lasagna rolls separated with wax paper, ready for the freezer.

 All-in-all, it took me about three hours to do all the preparation, plus the cooking and packaging. 

It felt good seeing all these meals ready for the freezer

Unfortunately, the idea of a monthly meal swap group didn't really take off. My social circle isn't that big and not enough people were interested, but I am still cooking a few extra meals for the freezer each weekend. I love not having to worry about dinner during the week, and I'm having fun planning multiple meals around a theme ingredient. Last week it was chorizo, this week it will be fennel.

Whether cooking to swap or just for us, planning meals in advance saves money. Cooking over the weekend gives me time to try new recipes I wouldn't attempt on a work night. But there was one reason, in particular, why I've kept it up, something I discovered in the days after that first test run: Because I wasn't spending so much time on week nights preparing dinner, I had more time to linger over each meal with Big Brother. And that, my friends, is priceless.

If you need a reminder once in awhile to slow down and pace yourself read taking it slow in the slow lane.

Got your head in the clouds? Now your novel can be there, too!

I've been so caught up in my housing angst I haven't posted about much else, so this post about a great tool for writers is long overdue.

The tool in question is called Yarny, an appropriate name for software designed for storytellers. You can find Yarny online at https://yarny.me.

The first thing that jumped out at me about Yarny was its clean and simple interface. As someone with a design background, this appealed to me.

The screen is divided into three panes. The main pane is the text editor, which is front and center. When you type in this pane, the other panes fade out until you need them for distraction-free writing. Your work is saved automatically as you write, so no need to worry about remembering to hit the save button.

The pane at the left shows a list of "snippets." Snippets are simply sections of text. They can be paragraphs, chapters, or scenes, whatever works for you.  The benefit of writing in snippets is they can be dragged and dropped into any order you like, or combined into groups, which makes re-arranging your text a breeze.

Screen shot from the Yarny website. Click to enlarge.

The pane to the right is for keeping all your non-story stuff organized. You can use it for jotting down notes or for organizing research. It is conveniently divided into three sections - People, Places and Things, which makes it easy to find what you're looking for later. Like the pane to the left, material here can be grouped or re-ordered by dragging and dropping.

Down at the bottom of the screen there are buttons you can use to track versions of your work, or add keywords to make your text searchable.

Best of all, your work is automatically saved to the cloud, making it easy to access from anywhere with an internet connection. With Yarny it is easy to jot down a few ideas in the morning at home while you have your coffee, then work them into a story on your lunch break at work. Later, you can edit your work into a second draft on your tablet while watching the kids play at the park after dinner.  

All this, and it is free, too! There is supposedly a more feature-rich paid version available ($4 per month), but the paid features seemed to mostly be cosmetic (ability to pick a theme, typewriter sounds, etc.). I'm not sure that any of those things is worth $4 a month to me, at least not now while I'm saving for a house.

There were a couple of things about Yarny that didn't work so well for me. I'm a Planner, so I utilize the cork board and outlining features in Scrivener a lot. Yarny (at the last the free version I'm using) doesn't seem to have equivalent features. If you're more of a Pantser, this might not matter to you. Another drawback, albeit a minor one, is there is no formatting toolbar in the free version.

Overall, I found much more to like than not here. I still use Scrivener as my main tool of choice, but one of my major issues with Scrivener is the lack of a cloud-based version. If Yarny ever comes out with a tool similar to the Scrivener cork board, I'll be more than happy to migrate to Yarny permanently.

Give Yarny a try, it just might be the portable easy-to-use tool you've been looking for.

Salutations from The Beach

I finally made it here, to the land of palm trees and turquoise waters. I managed to forget my allergy pills and my phone charger, but it didn't matter; I was here at last.

Jupiter Inlet

The first day I was here I was so excited, I tried to do too many things at once and got too much sun. The next day was mostly about recovering from aforementioned overdoing.

Not having a schedule or anyone to be responsible for was a bit disorienting at first. I missed Big Brother, the kids, the animals. Now, halfway through the week, I have hit my stride. I spent a wonderful morning at Juno Beach yesterday, reading Journeys Under the Moon: Writing and the Hero's Quest. With no distractions and no time limits I was able to think through some of the concepts in the book in relation to my novel in progress, which sparked some ideas about how to make my story better.

The community garden at El Sol

Last night I spent time with Big Brother's cousins. They are such a nice family, and so open and welcoming to me, even after so many years of not having much contact. Playing with my little neices made me really miss the princesses and baby brother. I am going to start saving up to bring them here next summer, I would love to be able to share this with them.

The beach at Jupiter Inlet

Although I haven't been here long, and will be going home soon, I feel all the disjointed peices of myself coming back together. I am finding a new equilibrium here that got lost along the way. As I sit here on the lanai typing this, I am listening to the birds chirping and watching the sun come out over the palm trees, and it occurrs to me that I am more relaxed and at peace than I can remember being in years.

I know these positive changes are because of having time and space to spend on myself, not necessarily where I am spending it, but I feel increasingly certain that whatever my next chapter in life holds, it will be written here. I had been secretly afraid that maybe my plans to buy a home here had been based more on escapism than I wanted to believe. I worried that actually being here would burst the bubble. Instead, being here has put that fear to rest. There is just something about being able to walk on the beach or swim in the waves that I find soothing to the soul and I know I want more of that in my life. Exactly how or when I will be able to make that happen remains to be seen, I have accepted that it probably won't be this year after all. But this trip has helped reaffirm my goals, and that feels good.

Juno Beach

I will end this post by sending you greetings and good vibes from the beach, a Slow Lane I am happy to be in.

Sanctuary

Saturday mornings are one my favorite times. The kids are at the babysitter, their mom is at work and Big Brother is either sleeping in, or up early and out and about and I can enjoy a few hours of peace and solitude.

Today I feel like I really needed it. I've been stressed out these past couple of weeks, stuck in a cycle of angst over the swirl of unanswered questions that loom ahead of me. Will Big Brother get the more stable job he's trying for? Will the kids and their mom find a place? Will I be able to get a mortgage?

The mortgage question is especially bothersome. I've been asking myself why am I so fixated on buying a place in Florida? I did post about the timing and a limited window of opportunity that might pass me by if I don't act, so there are good and valid reasons why now needs to be the time. Yet underneath it all is a sense of anxiety and urgency that I know is out of proportion with reality. There are some Big Feelings at play here, and I'm glad to have time and space today to try to find my way through them.

We moved a lot when I was growing up. The first time was when I was about three and a half. I clearly remember throwing a massive tantrum when given the news. The thought of leaving my home for some place unknown was, and remains, traumatic. Although I enjoyed all the places we lived, there was a bit of a feeling of not really belonging anywhere. Then, as a grownup, I finally had the chance to buy a home of my own. But that didn't last either, as divorce only a few years later made selling the house unavoidable. After that followed a long period of living with my parents, followed by several more years of living with roommates. The only truly stable period of feeling like we had a home was our little second story apartment, the one I had to give up to get my foster license.

This house, where I live now, has never felt like home to me. It was always the kids house, their space first and foremost. Then, when their mom moved in and pretty much took over, it felt less like home than ever.

So there you have it, why the stakes feel like they're so high right now. I want to finally put down some roots and know where home is, once and for all. The thought of not being able to pull it off, after all this, is almost too much to bear. I am trying to simply not think about it.

A few years ago, even before I put my three year plan down on paper, I made myself this vision board. All it is, really, is a collage of photos with little captions that I printed out on the computer.  I have a copy here, next to my computer at home, and another at work. I look at it often, to remind myself what I'm working towards.

Frequently, the little voices in my head try to derail me. They tell me 'you can't have that, you don't deserve that, you'll never achieve it."Having a detailed plan has helped quiet them down a bit, but lately, those little voices aren't so little. They're screaming in my ear most days, getting louder the closer my Florida trip comes.

What it all comes down to is I'm seeking sanctuary, some stability financially and emotionally, and some relief from those annoying negative voices in my head.

When I walk Toby at night I meditate on gratitude and focus on being in the moment. I gaze at the charming Victorian architecture and Mayberryesque facades on Main Street and I think about what a lovely place this is, and how grateful I am to have grown up in this area. I pass by my job and I think about how fortunate I am to have it. I pass by the building in the park where we hold our church services and ruminate on what a true blessing the congregation has been in my life. As a flock of teenagers on skateboards zip past I remember my son at that age, and think how glad I am that he survived his teen years in one piece.

I am trying very hard to let those things be enough, to convince myself that what will be, will be, and either way I will be okay. In my head I know that to be true, but in my emotional core I'm not so sure.

For now, the sanctuary I seek arrives in small doses. I find it in my morning coffee, with a dog at my feet and a cat nearby. It is in the walks I take in the gloaming and in the voices raised in song at church. It is here, in a peaceful Saturday morning of solitude and reflection.

When I get on that plane next week - on Friday the 13th, of all days - I will be holding on to the hope that it might be the beginning of a dream realized. But whether it is or not, I will have a whole week to revel in turquoise waters, sandy shores, and time spent reading and writing under a beach side pergola shaded by bougainvillaea.

I am looking forward to visiting the butterfly museum, feeding Lorakeets and communing with nature. I am looking forward to a week of sanctuary in an otherwise turbulent world.

Do Good Fences Really Make Good Neighbors?

The fence along my driveway

I've been thinking a lot lately about the old saying 'Good fences make good neighbors.' I've also been thinking about the biblical directive to 'love they neighbor as thyself.' One is about building up walls, the other is about breaking them down, meaning they totally contradict each other. Which one should I choose to live by? Should I be building barriers, or knocking them down?

When I look around me, the people I see who have achieved their goals in life all seem to have clear, firm boundaries. They may give generously of themselves and their resources, but they always make sure they have enough of what they need first, and they never let giving derail their personal goals. Their lives are wrapped up in nice tidy picket fences, so to speak. I admire and respect them, but I'm not sure I can be them, either.

Then I look at Jesus Christ, who had no boundaries of any kind. He invited everyone in, excluded no one, and encouraged us all to give of ourselves to others just as freely. He owned nothing, judged no one, and he had no goal or agenda except to teach others how to love.  Sadly, I will never be as selfless or as giving as he was.

When I visited Mexico many of the people I visited were very poor, on a level we don't often see in this country. Yet all of them, even people I didn't know that well (if at all), invited me in and shared what little they had with me. I've never seen that level of hospitality and generosity happen here, despite the fact that most of us have much more than we think we do, and could afford to share more of it than we think we can. I've been trying to give more with fewer expectations ever since.

Just the same, at home I feel like I'm going out of my mind sometimes. The kids and their mom don't do boundaries well. They make noise when we're sleeping, or they make a huge mess everywhere and leave it there for days on end. They out number us, so they take up more of the space and resources in the house without even noticing they do it. It isn't intentional, it's just that they are so wrapped up in themselves after being apart for so long, they are simply oblivious to Big Brother and I and our needs.

Big Brother and I are not happy living this way. We deal with it because we are aware that all of us living together has been good for the kids in terms of their emotional and mental healing. In theory giving them that has been worth a few blurred boundaries, but just knowing we did a good thing isn't enough to sustain us any longer. Like the kids and their mom, we, too, have been through a lot. Our little family of two needs time and space to heal, and we can't wait anymore. We need it now.

I knew a man on facebook, another community activist who was a friend of a friend who somehow friended me. He was clearly beloved by all who knew him, and had done much good in his community. He was something of a legend in that respect. But he hadn't done a good job of maintaining his own boundaries. He put service to others first to the point where he lost his job, then his home, and finally, his health. By the time others noticed how dire things had become, and rallied round to help him, it was too late. He was dead. 

Jesus Christ didn't last too long, either. Not in the flesh, anyway.

I've been grappling with all of this as I try to figure out how to resolve our housing situation in a way that meets everyone's needs. The problem is, what would work best for the kids' mother simply doesn't work for Big Brother and I. Yet what would be best for Big Brother and I would make things harder on the kids. The best solution for the kids is to leave things as they are, of course, which doesn't work for anyone else. So, whose needs come first in this situation?

The answer is there is no easy answer. What I've decided on is a compromise, where nobody gets exactly what they want, but everyone gets at least some of what they need. It won't be a perfect solution, but I hope all involved will find it fair.

I've learned a lot in the past few years about just how true it is that good fences make for good neighbors. I'll be constructing several of my own very soon. But I've also learned that every fence needs to have a gate, so when your neighbors are in need you can open up, and let them in.

Control Issues

The hardest part about foster care was the feeling that we, the kids and I, had no control over what happened to us. DCF could (and did) make snap decisions that impacted our lives. All we could do was say "how high?" whenever they said "jump." Sometimes it was a small thing, like where to put the baby crib (they made us move it no fewer than four times). Other times it was big things, like could Big Brother continue to live in the house with us or not (they tried to say no, I disagreed. Loudly).

I hated that feeling then, and I hate it now, too. There isn't any ominous entity looming over us anymore, controlling our lives like a puppeteer. The kids are happy, their mom is doing really well, and Big Brother is doing great, too. Despite this, I'm struggling with a bunch of Big Feelings around control.

I wrote my last post full of grim determination, overflowing with insistence that I WILL achieve my goal, I WILL make my home ownership dreams come true. After I pushed the 'publish' button on that post I got down to business, brainstorming strategies. I made a list of potentially marketable skill I have. Next, I set to work designing a tee shirt I could sell here on the blog, and got a price quote to have them produced. Then,  I drafted a new blog page, devoted completely to fundraising to supplement my down payment.  I was very, very busy, in other words.

The problem is, all that busy-busy didn't necessarily produce anything. I went back and looked at my draft page later and realized, if I published it as it was, I would only look frenzied and maybe a tad more loca than I'm going for.  And I'll be honest here, I'm not really sure I can deal with the rejection if I publish that page and nobody responds.

So what am I going to do, then? Do I scrap the whole idea and come up with a new goal? Do I forge ahead anyway and hope for the best? The answer is, I just don't know.

For now, I will continue making plans and thinking through various strategies. I may eventually hit the publish button on the fundraising page, once I get it where it needs to be and work up enough nerve. But I will also spend some time sitting with the possibility that maybe, just maybe, I need to let go of this dream. The window of opportunity may close before I have a chance to squeeze myself through it, and despite my best efforts I simply may not be able to control that.

This isn't to say I'm throwing the towel in without even trying. That is not, and never will be, part of any plan of mine. Nevertheless, I wanted to post about this because for a strategic plan to be sound, it must take into account the less pleasant "what ifs." In the non-profit world, it means having a strategy in reserve for "if we lose our grant." For me, it means having a strategy in place for "if I can't buy a home." After all, that is the whole point of having a strategic plan in the first place - not just to help you achieve your goals, but to ensure you will still be okay, even when things don't go as planned.

Detour to the Express Lane

June will mark the official end of my first year working my three-year plan. When I look at the goals I set for myself I'm pleased at how well I did during year one, despite more than a few complications along the way.

Year one was challenging for a variety of reasons, but the biggest one was the kids didn't move out with their mom as originally planned last August. Instead, their mom moved in with us. It was great for the kids and I'm glad it worked out this way, for their sake, but it really put a wrench in the works as far as my plan to move to a cheaper apartment went. Not only did I not reduce the amount of rent I was paying, not moving meant another winter grappling with a huge heating bill; I spent nearly $3,500 on heating oil and electricity in only four months.

Even though things didn't go as planned with the living situation, I thought I still had time to catch up. After all, my three year plan had two more years left to go. That is, until a chat with a local realtor revealed that housing prices were finally starting to rise. She showed me what was available around here in my price range, which turned out to be exactly nothing.

After digesting that information I decided it was time to move on to "Plan B," which is to buy a home in Florida where the cost of housing is more reasonable. That might sound a little drastic, but I have family there and know the area well. But there was a problem with "Plan B," too. Inventory in my price range was moving fast and prices were rising.

The problem wasn't just the slow speed of building up my credit rating or saving for a down payment. The bigger issue is I'm a single home buyer with a modest income. Even if I save for two more years and have stellar credit, the maximum amount I can spend on a house isn't going to change much.

The reason for this is something called a debt to income ratio, which a lender uses to calculate how much house an applicant can reasonably afford. Lenders look for the debt to income ratio to be below 28% of the applicant's gross monthly income. When I do the calculations for myself, I can afford a monthly mortgage payment of no more than $950. In other words, my maximum price range is about $125,000 for a single family home, or $90,000 for a condo (HOA fees count as part of the monthly maximum payment).

The writing was on the wall: if I stuck to my three year timeline, it was very likely that I'd find myself priced out of the market by the time I was ready to buy.

Talk about a majorly depressing revelation.

Things get even more depressing when you consider I'm currently paying $1,525 in rent every month, an expense which will only continue to rise over time. My best strategy to reduce my housing costs and break out of the hand-to-mouth lifestyle (or the Slow Lane, as I like to call it) was still buying a home of my own, but could I pull it off given this new information?

I considered giving up, I really did. The thought of trying to come up with the additional down payment funds I need before the end of the year was daunting, to say the least. I wasn't sure I could pull it off. But something kept niggling at me and wouldn't let me quit. It was the fact that the only reason I could think of not to try was fear. Fear of failure, fear of looking like an idiot, fear of asking for help, fear of rejection.

I've never let fear stop me before, and I don't plan on starting now. It is time to shift gears and get serious about purchasing a home as soon as possible, before my narrow window of opportunity closes for good.

So put your seat belts on because we're about to merge into the fast lane, ready or not!

Watch for my next blog post, where I'll lay out my plan for beefing up my down payment on an expedited timeline.

Should a writer only blog about writing? My answer to the question.

If I'm a writer, why don't I just stick to blogging about writing? Why bother with all this 'three year plan' stuff?

That is the question I recently asked myself. I wasn't asking out of any sense of self-doubt, it was more a case of probing to be sure the plan I committed to almost a year ago still fit. As you know, if you follow my blog, I'm lukewarm about blogging to begin with. I don't feel I'm that good at it, and I often wonder if anyone really wants to hear what I have to say.

I began blogging as a way to ease back into writing regularly again. I didn't know, at the time, what I wanted to write about, only that it was something I needed to do. I wrote essays and articles about all sorts of things as I tried to figure out where I belonged, both in the world and as a writer. Then, during my time as a foster parent, the blog became a vehicle for both documenting our journey and processing my own feelings.

The blog was all over the place, to say the least.

One of the fringe benefits of living in the limbo of foster care for so long was it made me really think about what was really important to me in life. I had to think about what I could let go, and what I would never let go of. One thing was clear - writing needed to be front and center in my life, no matter what.

It was also abundantly clear to me, after two years of wrangling small children, that I wasn't as young as I thought I was. All that time I thought I still had to make things happen in my own life 'someday'? It was just a myth. The half-century mark was staring me down on the horizon. Before I got there, I needed to come up with a plan to pursue my dreams and give myself some fiscal stability.

I'm not the only middle aged aspiring writer out there. I'm also not the only one struggling to write around raising a family, or grappling with the financial quandary that people of mid-life and limited means so often find ourselves in.  It occurred to me that, just maybe, this blog might help others to sort themselves out, too. And so, I keep plugging away, in the hope that something I put out there might serve some purpose to others as well as myself.

As for the three year plan itself, the goals I set for myself are pretty big and I didn't give myself a whole lot of time to achieve them, but after a year of ups and downs, I still think I can do it. In fact, I know I can do it and I know it because I've been working my plan and seeing results. Some areas of the plan have been easier to follow than others, but in all areas I feel like I've made progress. It may not have been the progress I anticipated, but part of any strategic plan is looking back at what you thought you could do compared to what you actually did, and learning from it. I may have to make some changes to my strategies, but ultimately, if I have a realistic plan I know I'll get there.

Come June, I'll revise my plan based on what I learned during year one and I'm sure I'll be blogging about it. As I make more progress towards my writing goals, I expect I'll be blogging about that, too. In fact, I've been working steadily on the manuscript I started during NaNoWriMo. It is starting to shape up and I hope soon to begin sharing some excerpts from it here on the blog.

So there you have it, my explanation of why I don't just blog about writing. Yes, writing is the central theme in my personal narrative these days, but life is a journey and to get where you want to go, wherever that might be, sometimes you have to hit a few potholes and make some hard choices. In the end, that is what this blog is really about, how to hold onto your dreams and make them reality, no matter what life throws at  you along the way.

Priorities

The last couple of years have been eventful, to say the least. Finally, now that foster care is behind me and the kids and their family are doing well, I feel like it is time to focus on my own life again.

As much as I didn't enjoy being tossed around by the winds of fate for the past two years, I have to admit, the ball being back in my court is a little bit intimidating. Whatever happens now will happen because of choices I make, not choices I'm forced into by circumstance (or so I hope, anyway). The scary part of that is what if I make the wrong choices? What if I fail? What if, at the end of my three year plan, I am still unpublished, no closer to buying a house, and still stressed out and chasing my tail?

This might sound strange, but the idea of success is just as frightening as the thought of failure. It is hard to believe I can achieve it, sometimes, and even harder to believe I could actually sustain my vision of success. What if I achieve it, only to have it all fall apart later? Whose fault will that be, hmm?

These are the sort of thoughts that have been running amok in my head these past few weeks. They are the thoughts that can derail you from getting where you want to go. Luckily for me, I'm too stubborn to stop now. Yes, there is a chance I won't be able to hit the mark, and if I do I might well mess it all up at some future point and find myself  back where I started. But succeed or fail, at least I will know I had the courage and the discipline to try.  If I can put everything I've got - literally - into helping other people get where they need to go, I should be willing and able to apply that drive and sense of purpose to my own life, too.

I've been telling myself I can't do this, I can't do that, because right now I have to be here, the kids and their family need me to do X, Y or Z. The truth? I've been using them as a crutch, as an excuse to avoid stepping out on my own again. The kids and their mom are doing great. They still have challenges and hurdles to overcome, of course, but the worst is behind them. Whatever happens next, I know their mom can make her dreams come true. Now I need to go find out, is the same true for me?

Frankly, the situation is critical. I'm 46 1/2 years old. If I don't get out there and build some stability, if I don't put my dreams at the forefront and pursue them with everything I've got, I may not get another chance. I don't need to be rich, I don't need to be famous. I do need the financial anchor that owning a home represents and I want desperately, deeply and passionately, to find out if I have what it takes as a writer.

In the next few weeks I'll be sharing my next steps and some updates to my three-year plan. In the meantime, leave a comment sharing what success looks like for you, and what you're doing, or have done, to get yourself there.

Taking a bite out of my to-do list: Dental Work

One of my goals for this year was to finally take care of a laundry list of dental care items that I've put off for far too long now. I had the basic cleaning done, a filling, a post-and-crown put in, all soon to be followed by the extraction of two wisdom teeth.
 

My newly renovated choppers on display

I've known these things needed doing since 2011, but I couldn't afford to do it at that time. Then the foster kids came and I didn't have the time. Now, fashionably late by a year or two, I'm finally getting around to it. While I'm not at all enamored with the expense or the discomfort of doing so much dental work at once, I am kind of enjoying checking it off my "to do" list.

So how does all this fit into my three year plan? Why does it matter enough to be blogging about it?

It really all comes down to this: if you don't take care of the machinery it breaks down. What good is achieving any life goal if you're health and well-being had to be sacrificed to get you there?

One thing living life in the Slow Lane has taught me is putting things off might make today easier, but it makes tomorrow that much harder. Being proactive not just with my money and my writing, but with self-care, is going to be key to getting from where I am today to where I hope to be tomorrow.

I am fortunate that I have both medical and dental coverage at work, but if you don't and if you can't find a dentist in your area who works on a sliding scale, you might try looking for a Federally Qualified Health Center. You will find more than just dental care there, so check them out.

Until next time, here's reminding you not to forget to floss, from the Slow Lane.

Adios 2013

As 2013 draws to a close I can't help but look back and marvel at what an intense and amazing year it was.

When 2013 dawned we were still well and truly lost in the swamp of foster care with no clue what our outcome would ultimately be. After spending all of 2012 hanging in limbo, we desperately needed closure one way or the other. As the months passed, the outlook gradually became brighter until, in August, we were blessed with the happy ending we feared might never come. For months afterwards I floated around on a little cloud of blissful gratitude for answered prayers. When I think about how far we've come this year, it boggles my mind. It was, in every sense, a miraculous year.

At the moment 2014 is still a blank canvas. For the past two years all of my time, attention and resources have been focused on the kids and their needs. This year I hope to put my focus back on my own life for a bit. I would like to reconnect with my son, and spend some time getting to know myself. It might sound odd, but the person I am post-foster care is not the same person I was going in.

During the new year I hope for continued progress towards my goals, time to enjoy my family and the strength and courage to continue to live my convictions. Will I get better about blogging regularly? Will I turn my NaNoWriMo manuscript into a second draft? Will I ever find a suitable part time job? The answers lie ahead somewhere in 2014.

Although it sounds trite, I truly do hope that 2014 will bring health and prosperity and happiness for my family and I, and for you and yours as well.

Here's wishing you a Happy New Year from the Slow Lane.

Inching Forward

I'm having a hard time reconciling myself to the fact that the holiday season has officially begun. Halloween is behind us, Thanksgiving is looming on the horizon and Christmas music reverberates through every store I enter, yet somehow my brain keeps expecting it to be summer.

Today I realized that I posted my three year plan six months ago already. SIX MONTHS! Where has that time gone? Have I made any progress at all on my plan? I felt very unprepared for this check-in, but when I went back to my plan to look at what I've done I was actually pleasantly surprised at what I found:

Writing
I have NOT improved my blogging skills. If anything, I think I've back-slid. I never got around to creating an editorial calendar, either, which probably accounts for how random and infrequent my blog posts are. Clearly, this is something I need to work on.

On the other hand, I do write daily, I've joined a writing group and I have taken several writing classes. I have even created a solid outline for my novel already. In fact, I am working on a fist draft of it right now for NaNoWriMo. So far it is going well. I have about 25,000 words written already (disclaimer: a good 4K of my word count consists of chapter sketches and notes that don't count towards my final word count).

Finance
If you remember my last update, this was the area where I took the biggest hit. I was really struggling, having wiped out my savings after a series of unfortunate and unpredicted incidents.

Today I am able to say that I have built my savings up again, but really only because I finally got my taxes back. Saving continues to be a challenge and, since I haven't found a part time job yet, I expect it to continue to be challenging until I do.

To the good, getting my taxes back means I can take the next big step on the road to rebuilding my credit. I have taken out a secured credit card. I will begin using it to make routine, planned purchases which I will pay off immediately, things like groceries, the utility bills and the like.

Self-Care
The self-care area has been challenging, too.

I started out doing great. If you recall, I bought a set of pedals for under my desk and I pedaled all day long. I lost about thirteen pounds this way. Unfortunately, I pedaled so much I broke the machine. I've gained all the weight back, sadly, but I have a new set of pedals on order and intend to pedal my way to victory once again.

I suppose you can say the moral to my six month story so far is don't give up. Things will happen. It will be hard. Keep going anyway.