Month: March 2010

Sometimes babysitting does not go well

By / March 20, 2010

Every other Friday I attend a women writer’s group in Salt Lake. It is a social event, not a business one. No one brings writing samples, there are no critiques. In fact many of us have never read each other’s writing. Instead we talk together, rejoicing over triumphs, commiserating over difficult things. We are very well suited to sympathize since we all write, we’re all women, and we share a social context. I love attending this group. The women in it have become good friends.

You would think my absenting myself from the kids for five hours every two weeks would not be too much to ask. And if it were my only absence it definitely would not be. But I also have other reasons to go places without them. Few of these other absences are things I do just for myself. The writer’s group does not benefit anyone else in my immediate family, just me. This makes it harder for me to convince myself it is important. It means that when things do not go well at home while I’m gone, I feel worse about it.

Last night I arrived home to two children with eyes puffy and red from crying. They did not even hear me come in because they were still arguing. I called Gleek and Link into the kitchen to discuss it with me. Patch had already fallen asleep, but his eyes were puffy too. Nothing serious went wrong. No one was injured. The younger two had just felt scared at bedtime and Link did not know how to settle them or soothe them. The result was kids getting out of bed, calling me, asking for extra things, and Link feeling increasing frustration because he was not sure what should be allowed and what should not. Link did not know how to enforce discipline without crossing lines he knew he should not cross.

The repeated phone calls interrupted my conversations and sapped my social energy. I missed things and it was harder to find my way back into the conversations. One of the points of going is to give me a chance to step away from my responsibilities, a chance to be just Sandra who writes instead of being mom. Part of me wanted to turn off my phone, but I couldn’t for fear of the lurking “what if.” Things at home would have been worse if not for me over-the-phone instructions and intervention.

I wondered why I had bothered to go out at all. My absence had created a crisis without providing any of the benefits I’d looked for. I’d hoped to come home energized, happy, ready to pick up my mom things again. I stood in the kitchen with my two red eyed kids. I made them listen as the other aired complaints. Link finally understands, in a way that he could not before, how hard parenting/babysitting can be. He was relieved when I was able to describe to him exactly what his frustration felt like, because I’ve been there. Lots. I realized that Link really is not prepared to babysit. He would be fine in a true emergency, but he need training to handle all the little ways that kids push against the limits. I’m not sure what Gleek learned. I’m afraid she just came away convinced that she’s once again ruined everything. I want a better lesson for her. I want one that heals and makes her stronger. Last night she was too tired and upset to hear it. We’ll try again sometime today. I wish there were a clear cut way to help her.

In one month I’ll be going away for a weekend rather than just an evening. Logical or not, last night’s experience has me worried about leaving the kids. I know they will be in the care of adults I trust, but I worry anyway.

A Note to My Subconscious

By / March 18, 2010

Dear Subconscious,

I’m writing to let you know that I’m nominating the dream you provided last night for the Nightmare of the Year award in the category “Public Speaking Nightmare.” I was particularly impressed with the way you skipped all the cliched lack of clothing and disorganization and went straight for accidentally disappointing other people. The most dramatic moment was when I was in the middle of interviewing a celebrity in front of an audience and I turned to see the other four panelists I had been completely ignoring. The fact that the other panelists were all people I know and respect really increased the impact. My social blunder was hammered home when both the panelists and half the audience left in disgust while I was still attempting to salvage the presentation. Then there was that one audience member who came to tell me that his wife was really sick and she had been looking up to me, but now she couldn’t anymore. Brilliant.

It is important that you also added in random elements like the laundry pile in which I attempted to hide and the blankies that I carried with me. Randomness is the core of dreams and you did not forget it. The most powerful thing about the dream was the lack of villains. Everyone in the dream acted rationally, calmly, and kindly. It was just abundantly clear that I had failed miserably and disappointed everyone. It has been a long time since you provided such a powerful dream. I woke up crying and with the shakes. Howard was also impressed when I woke him up to tell him about it. He said “Wow. Your subconscious really had it in for you.” I must agree.

The effort put into this dream was impressive. Perhaps you should take some time off to recuperate. I’ll be perfectly happy to do without dreaming for a while.

Thanks,
–Sandra

Day rearranged by water

By / March 17, 2010

True friendship is calling 8 AM to ask for help with the unexpected flood underneath a laminate floor and knowing that the person you call will not mind. Instead of being a focused day, it ended up being a social one. Our friend came over, helped us remove a plank, and spent hours visiting. I also spent time visiting with neighbor friends and friends who don’t happen to be neighbors.

The discovery of the flooding (new washing machine will arrive on Friday) knocked the day off course and it never really recovered. I’ve been scattered and tired most of the afternoon. But my two critical items for the day got done. I attended Gleek’s activity day and I required Link to type up his revised essay. Hopefully tomorrow I will find my ability to focus and stay on target.

Despite the day being knocked askew, it still feels like a good day.

Working, chasing squirrels, and sitting in the sun

By / March 16, 2010

Thus far it has been a week of lists, emails, contracts, layout adjustments, essays, homework, and chores. I’ve been running on high energy and getting lots of stuff done. It is fun to start the day with a long list of tasks and to check them off by mid-afternoon. It is also tiring. Days like these tend to run long and so I end up short on sleep.

Today this meant that my brain fizzled out by 1 pm and I lay down for a nap. Unfortunately, fizzled out is not at all the same as relaxed. I lay still, hoping for sleep to arrive, but my brain was like an over-excited puppy in a field full of ground squirrel thoughts. It would chase after a thought, yapping happily, until suddenly the thought vanished and I was left staring at a hole where the squirrel had been. But the field was full of thought squirrels to chase, so my brain was never still for long. There was lots of running, and at the end there was nothing to show for it. Not restful.

What was restful, was wandering outside to sit on my neighbor’s front porch in the sunshine. We all sat and talked for an hour while the children flocked from house to house. I do not think it is a coincidence that I found my happy effective mojo just as the weather turned sunny and mild. I love spring.

Homes and Places

By / March 15, 2010

The discussion of Place in Native American culture was brief, a mere footnote to an undergraduate lecture on Native American Arts. But I was fascinated by the concept that some locations are more than a set of coordinates or a landscape. Some locations have a spirit to them which makes them sacred, or the opposite. These locations become places. Many different belief systems incorporate similar ideas. Catholic churches have hallowed ground where the sinful are not allowed to be buried. Moses removed the sandals from his feet at the site of the burning bush because the events there made the ground itself sacred. My own religion dedicates temples and churches to their purposes. Even secular organizations acknowledge that the events of a particular location make the spot special. This is why there are memorials at sites of great triumph or tragedy. This is why we have the 9/11 memorial, Tours through Dachau, and Abraham Lincoln’s home.

I was fascinated by place because I believed it. I had seen the way teenagers on a tour through Alcatraz prison became subdued, their moods affected by the feel of the island. I had stood at the Vietnam Memorial and touched row upon row of names which impressed upon me the weight of events that took place half a world away. I looked up into the giant stone face of Abraham Lincoln and walked the steps of the capitol building and pondered those who had gone before me. Most of these places were very consciously created. Structures and memorials are arranged specifically to affect those who visit. The intention in no way diminishes the power of the created places. I can not think of a more consciously created place than Washington D.C. Every thing about it is planned. It declares in art and buildings that it matters, that what happens there matters. Washington D.C. declares importance. I felt that when I visited, even before I learned about place as a concept.

I witnessed the power of place just a month ago when Gleek and I visited the Oakland temple grounds in California. She dashed her way through the visitor’s center, touching every display, pushing every button. She teased and tormented her brother as usual. But when we climbed to the terrace of the temple, her steps slowed. My Gleek, just nine years old, the girl who constantly bounces, sat on a bench and was still. Then she lay down on the stone bench as if she wanted more contact with the place. Sitting wasn’t enough, she wanted to feel the cool stone with her whole body. Her chatter dried up and her steps became reverent. No amount of scolding or coaxing from me can elicit this behavior from her. The place somehow got inside her, changed her. Patch was not as affected. He jumped and climbed and laughed. Gleek just sat, and felt, and looked. She did not want to leave when it was finally time to go. She took a blade of grass and wrapped it into a ring around her finger. She wanted to take the calmness with her.

It is human nature to adjust our surroundings to our comfort. We paint our walls, and pick our furniture, and hang our pictures. We are striving to create a space that is comfortable and pleasing. But some take this a step further, they don’t just decorate a space, they try to create a place which affects the minds and hearts of those who enter it. This is the basis for the design principles of Feng Shui. It is also what architects such as Frank Lloyd Wright hoped to achieve when designing houses.

When Howard and I first set up housekeeping together, I realized I had a chance to make our home more than just shelter and storage space. My actions and choices could turn my home into a place which could positively affect all those who entered it. I wanted our home to be a haven of peace, love, beauty, prayer, and safety. The prospect was both exciting and daunting. I did not know how to go about it. We could not afford to rent or purchase a place that was already aesthetically beautiful. Our first apartment was the basement of a tiny house. Our first house was a glorified wooden box with windows in it. Even our current home is a tract home, nearly identical to a dozen others in our neighborhood. At first my plans for creating a place centered on a time when we could build the home we really wanted. But then I started paying attention when I went into the homes of others.

Sometimes I walk into a home and I am instantly comfortable. My comfort is not related to the décor, or to the level of tidiness. I’ve been extremely uncomfortable in spotlessly clean, beautifully decorated homes. I’ve also been in very messy houses where I would not hesitate to stay for hours. I can’t really say where my reactions come from. It is as if all the hours of living, fighting, loving, yelling, and laughing soak into the walls. I usually can tell if a home is a place I want to be within moments of entering it. I am fortunate that I’ve not often felt the need to flee.

So while beautiful architecture and careful decoration can contribute to the making of a place, what really matters is what happens there. The Lincoln monument is awesome, not just for its size, but because all the lingering awe of all the people who have stood there. Alcatraz is grim because of the hopelessness that dwelt there. The temple gives peace because of all the people who come seeking it, and find it, and leave some behind. This means that if I want my home to be welcoming, we need to be welcoming people and our home will absorb that. If I want my home to be happy, then we need to live our lives in ways that promote happiness. All the things I want my home to be, I need to be. As with most things I want to accomplish, the solution starts with me.

Since one of the things I’d like my home to be is orderly, I should probably go clean up now.

Reading Aloud to the Kids

By / March 14, 2010

Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain are fun to read aloud. The characters are distinct and the character descriptions suggest different voices I can be using. It is fun when I’ve done a voice enough that it falls into place automatically when the character has dialog. Alexander is pretty good for this since the characters have distinct speech patterns. Pratchett is also good. One of my very favorite books to read aloud is Larger Than Life Lara by Dandi Mackall. The first person narrator has such a fun voice. Even reading silently you can hear it in your head.

I’m not sure whether my reading aloud is actually good by an outside measure. I know it is not professional quality and I am fine with that. I just need to be good enough to hold the attention of my kids and to not be completely dry at the occasional author reading I may do. However I have noticed that the reading is more fun for me when I’m doing it smoothly. I found Mary Robinette Kowal’s series on Reading Aloud to be an incredibly useful reference to help me learn new techniques which make the reading even more enjoyable.

Enjoyment is the key. I love the moments when the kids are all staring directly me at me and they’ve stopped chewing their snack because they are so enthralled by the story I’m reading. Unfortunately the opposite also occurs. I’ll be mid-sentence and enjoying the story when one kid turns to another and begins a random conversation, or someone gets up and wanders around the room, or one child pokes another. I confess to being a bit cranky at those moments. I don’t like having the flow of the narrative interrupted that way. It takes some energy to put myself back into the characters and voices. If I have to do it more than a couple of times, I’ll just declare myself done. This too is part of the experience. I accept it and pick up the book to read again the next day. It goes well more often than not. And it is a ritual that we enjoy.

Sets and Eras

By / March 13, 2010

The first five Schlock Mercenary books are a set. We even sell them as one. They represent the early years of the comic when Howard was still figuring out how to draw, and script, and who his characters really were. They also represent our early years in publishing when we were figuring out how to design books and arrange for the printing of them. It is interesting to note that final book of the set ended just a few weeks prior to the day when Howard quit his corporate job to be a cartoonist. So that first set of books also represents an era in our lives, the years when Howard split his time between day job and comic.

The book we are working on now, Resident Mad Scientist, will be the first book in a new set. This set will be much more uniform in size and content. It will contain six books, starting with RMS and ending with the book which is currently airing on the web, Family Anti-Matter. The set will span the era of our lives when we were scrambling to make cartooning work, and the beginning of when it finally did. It is going to take a couple of years before we have the set in our hands, but I am looking forward to that day.

This morning Howard and I spent an hour talking about design changes for RMS. We want to get it right because the decisions we make on this book need to be carried through the five that will follow. Howard sketched out the things he wants to be different. I countered with alternate proposals. Then I came away with a list of changes to make so that we can see what they will look like. I walked down the stairs excited and interested, but not afraid. I spent most of the 8 months we worked on Teraport Wars terrified that I would accidentally break the book. It is nice to feel confident in my ability to tackle what must be done.

Next week will be full of lay out. I’ll be executing the design changes, placing margin art, and fixing typos. I look forward to this work because when we reach this stage the book is almost done. It starts being something we can see, touch, and anticipate rather than just a looming task which much get done.

The Bright Spaces

By / March 12, 2010 / 1 Comment

Our pear tree has gotten tall. It is out-of-control tall. This is presents a problem when it grows pears and we want to be able to pick the pears. The tree needs to be pruned. It needed pruning last year too, but I never found the time.

The pom-pommed scotch pine has gotten tall too. This is a tree that we deliberately shape into twisty branches with poms of needles. We have to prune it yearly to keep the shape attractive. I think we last pruned it three years ago. This year’s pruning will have to be drastic to get the plant back into control.

The wisteria vine along the back wall is falling off. It used to climb up the wall and drape over the top. But then the landscaping company on the other side of the wall came along with a buzz saw and trimmed everything. The vines over-balanced and are now laying heapishly at the foot of the wall. I need to prune them back to give them a chance to grow straight again. While I’m doing vines, I should do the grapes too.

I can see all of these things from my window. They are clearly visible in the bright sunshine which is trying to fool me into believing that the outdoors are actually warm. It is not warm out there. Warm remains elusive. I thought through my schedule, trying to figure when I can get outside with my saw. I decided to make tomorrow an outdoor day, but then I glanced at the weather for tomorrow. Rain. Cold rain. Possibly snow.

I used to schedule my life around the good gardening days. I watched the weather and planned. Every remotely sunny day in early spring found me outside messing with plants and dirt. Last year I missed Spring almost completely. I spent the season in my windowless basement office, scrambling to do the layout work on XDM. This spring is also going to be busy. I suspect that many of our Springs will be busy in the coming years. It seems to be part of the rhythms of the business in which we work. This means that if I am not careful I could miss my favorite season year after year. I could miss out on seeing the blooms grown from the bulbs I planted last Fall.

Today I have a bright space, a sunny day, even though it is not truly warm. Today I could go outside and work in my garden. I could also go back into my basement and do more layout work. There is always work to do. I need to plan my schedule so that when I happen upon the bright spaces in my life, I can drop work and go enjoy them. Because bright spaces do not wait for me. The joys of my young children will not wait for me. The moments when my teenagers need help will not wait for me. I must organize my life so that I can seize these moments when they arrive. Then I run outdoors to work in the sunshine.

Come What May

By / March 11, 2010

There was a fish in a bowl on my kitchen counter this morning. It was the first thing I saw when I flipped the switch to light up the pre-dawn darkness. I was blearily trying to process this new object when a flash of blue caught the corner of my eye. My finger nails were blue. With sparkling glitter. I haven’t been a wearer of fingernail polish since the early 90’s. Even then, blue was not a color I wore. That was some party. The thought drifted across my brain. Then I laughed at the idea of myself attending a wild party during which I did wild things. Only apparently my version of “wild” extends just far enough to paint my nails blue and bring home a goldfish. My life is pretty tame. Responsibility will do that to a person.

There really was a party. It was a mother daughter luau. Kiki stayed for the dinner, then bailed for Home. Gleek and I did all the activities. We had our picture taken, made a flower hair clip, made a picture frame, and painted finger nails. The fish were in bowls on the tables as decorations. This meant that at the end of the evening dozens of girls were begging to take fish home, and dozens of mothers were pondering the implications of adding a fish to their lives. We brought ours home in a little plastic cup. I warned Gleek that fish die frequently. She wanted the fish anyway. She cradled the cup in her lap on the way home and named it Silfer. I was glad for her to have this little living thing to care for. She would love to have pets, and I am allergic to most of them.

The fish was still swimming in the morning. So I began my usual round of morning things, starting toast, pouring cereal, making grits, doling out medication. Then I went to wake the children. I found Gleek in bed with Kiki, two girls snuggled together. I have lots of pictures of my kids sleeping, particularly when they are sleeping near each other. They used to do that a lot when they all still came to climb into bed with me. These days it is rare. Gleek called out in the night, and Kiki, who also had a bad dream, invited her for snuggles. I slept through the whole thing.

Gleek went from barely conscious to downstairs looking at her fish in less than a minute. I rummaged around on the top of our cupboards to unearth a decade old can of fish food left over from the days when we owned fish tanks. Gleek carefully placed one small flake in the water with her fish and watched intently to see if Silfer would eat. I went upstairs to poke the boys awake.

Gleek hung up the phone just as I re-entered the room. I stopped.
“Did you just call Bestfriend?”
“I wanted to tell her about Silfer.” Gleek answered. “Bestfriend will want to know I got a fish.”
Gleek was right. Bestfriend really would want to know. However I was certain that Bestfriend’s parents would prefer that this information not be conveyed via telephone at 6:30 AM. I glanced out the window at my backyard neighbor’s house where Bestfriend lives. All the windows were dark. Our phone rang. Caller ID means that Gleek’s early phone call was not anonymous. Our neighbor called back to see if there was an emergency, or a change in carpool arrangements. Because they are kind people, they talked to Gleek about her fish and only gently mentioned that later in the day would be a better time to call. Or so I inferred from Gleek’s half of the conversation. She was the one who answered the phone.

The odd kilter of the morning has continued throughout the day. Howard finished the bonus story yesterday, so he was due some vacation. We rented a movie and had a morning movie date on the couch. With popcorn. I like watching movies with Howard. Once the movie is over when have lots of fun picking at the plot holes and spinning possible patches for them. In this case the movie was 2012 and there were holes a plenty for our amusement.

The kids arrived home from school abuzz with excitement about the assembly where a guy used Yo-yo tricks to talk about practice and perseverance. Naturally the guy also sells yo-yos to interested kids. My kids were all very interested. They came home and conferenced, pooled their money, then walked back over to the school to purchase three yo-yos. I expect frustration and broken strings in the near future, but I love the way they all worked together to make it happen. I also need to make sure that the older siblings pay back the money they borrowed from Patch. He was the wealthy one this time around.

So my house is full of the smell of popcorn, a goldfish in a bowl, blue sparkling nail polish, and flying yo-yos. Had I made a prediction yesterday, it would not have included any of these things. I plan to take what comes and run with it. Although I think I’ll be running sans the blue nail polish. It’s too distracting.