Of Space Wars and Privacy by Konnie Enos

Years ago, I got my first laptop table as a solution for having no desk space and needing someplace to work.

It was mostly wood but didn’t have adjustable legs so the height was an issue. I had a pile of pillows behind me for back support but it couldn’t help when I was leaning forward all the time.

Then something happened to break the right leg off the thing.

The next time I found a metal one, with adjustable legs. It took some trial and error but I finally found the exact right position for the legs to keep it steady and allow me to sit up while on my computer.

One of the dogs jumped onto my bed landing squarely on the right leg, breaking it off.

I tried two additional metal trays similar to the first.

Guess what happened and to which legs.

You got it, something happened to break the right leg off.

I’ve pretty much given up. Not because they aren’t nice or don’t work but because I can’t have the bed to myself.

Every time either someone landed on it or I was constantly trying to push my tray to the right so its left leg would be on the bed rather than falling over the edge. There was always something/someone on the right pushing me and my laptop table off the bed.

Always.

Still is.

Not to mention whenever I try to get any paperwork done my husband has fits because he wants to take a nap and my stuff is in the way. I make every effort to keep my stuff on my half the bed the problem is he tends to sleep in the middle. Meaning he gets three-fourths and I’m lucky if he leaves me all of the other fourth. I had more bed space when we were trying to share a single sized bed.

Now, with my latest laptop table broken, I am yet again trying to get comfortable writing when I can’t get my laptop propped high enough to not have to lean over. I can’t get my pillows in the exact right configuration to support my back. And my only choices for my legs are folded or stretched on either side of what I do have supporting my laptop. (On my legs are just too hot.)

Thanks to the bed space wars, my legs being on either side of it often means my left leg ends up hanging over the edge. Which, in and of itself, it’s bad, but I’m short. My leg is literally hanging because I’m not tall enough for my lower leg to reach the ground. Even stretching my foot all the way I can barely tap my longest toe on the floor.

Definitely not comfortable. Sitting cross-legged for very long isn’t either. And finally, stretching my legs out can only be comfortable for so long.

And my choices are still lean forward without all that back support or have difficulty getting the keyboard closer than arm’s length away.

My only conclusion is I need a desk and chair, both at the perfect height for me.

I do have a desk, one which was gotten specifically for me. You have one guess who has long since taken it over. And there isn’t any other spare space in this currently crowded house to fit another desk/office space.

So when a friend on Facebook posted about she sheds, all I could think about was how nice it’d be to have my own space. Someplace with a desk and chair the perfect size for me. Someplace where I could have all my books and most especially everything I need from time to time, in easy reach rather than buried, hidden or outside my reach.

But most especially someplace where I had a door to lock with a sign saying “Do Not Disturb”. Preferably one that is sound proof so I can’t hear them beating on it when they insist they need to talk to me.

Of course it would mean turning off my phone, or at least ignoring them calling as much as possible.

But man, how nice to have a space all my own to decorate as I pleased and to get away from bedlam for a while.

Yes, children are planning to move out and I’m currently dreaming of turning at least one bedroom into my private space since I sincerely doubt I’ll be able to put in a she shed, but one can dream.

Oh, and Happy Pioneer Day today. (Ask me if you don’t know what that is.)

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Writing Matters by Bonnie Le Hamilton

Recently, in one of my Facebook pages (a page for writers) one of the members asked the question, “Why do you write?”

It is an interesting question with a variety of answers. I was reading some of the answers she got, and one of them jumped out at me. She said she started writing because she thought it would be an easy way to get rich, and now she couldn’t stop because she was hooked.

If she hadn't mentioned being hooked, I’d have commented that she was in for a huge letdown. For every J. K. Rowling there are thousands of unknowns who only manage to sell to their family and friends, if at all. So, for anyone out there thinking of getting into writing to make quick mega bucks – don’t bother.

There is nothing quick about writing. Poems even take time. Admittedly, I used to be able to crank out a polished poem in two or three hours, maybe a little more, which seems quick compared to taking ten weeks to crank out a novel’s rough draft. (And believe me, there is a major difference between polished and rough.)

The best poem I ever wrote took at most a half hour to write. (I was inspired.) And I had it polished within an hour of that. The best novel I ever wrote took me ten weeks to crank out the rough draft, and I’m still editing, polishing it. I won’t mention how many years ago it was that I started this novel, but well, my niece, who is now a mother, wasn’t even in junior high yet. Yeah, that was a while ago.

I have loads of excuses, mostly that I got distracted by other stories, which is my biggest problem, but there is just plain life getting in the way. I didn’t write or edit for about six months after my husband died, and I didn’t do much of that for the two weeks between when we learned he was sick and the day he died either, too worried and upset about what was happening with my husband.

Writing just didn’t matter at that point.

Now, what is getting in my way is too much of getting out of the house.

Why oh, why did I want a car again?

I mean really, when I didn’t have a car, I had a valid excuse to stay home all but once or twice a week. The problem was, I also had no way to do all the things I wanted to do. Like make sure my sister-in-law got to all her doctor’s appointments or to do a service mission here in town. Let alone all the writing meetings I was missing.

I wanted a car, and I’m doing all those things now, but that also means I’m getting up and out of my house most everyday of the week, meaning I’m not staying home and writing, or editing.

There is a payoff for everything. Yes, I have more freedom to do things I want to do, but now I have less time to write, after all there are only a finite number of hours in a day, and a body has to sleep sometime. Too bad mine doesn’t seem interested in doing that at a descent hour.

So, anyway, why do you write? What happened that set you on this path? For that matter, what do you consider success?

Personally, I’ll consider getting my post up on time a win, since at this rate, I may be sleeping then.

Well happy writing everyone, and good night. I hope.

Transportations the Issue by Konnie Enos

Growing up I was quite used to the idea of only one car per family. With only one parent there was no need for two cars. Then we went to live with our dad and his wife, though we still had only one car with two working parents and several kids in school. I’m thinking the only reason it worked was because it was a small town and their respective places of work were within walking distance of each other.

The point is, I don’t remember any long drawn out conversations about who had to be where when or who was able to do the driving to get whoever it was to where they needed to be.

Now forty years later I know of families which have multiple cars. At least both parents have their own and sometimes one or more of the children do too.

Admittedly there have been times when my husband and I had our own cars, like when we first got married. Which of course we needed since we both worked about 30 miles from our home and in opposite directions.

However most of our married life we’ve only had one vehicle at a time. When we’ve had two it was because Jerry needed one for work and I still needed to be able to get things done (like grocery shopping). But then most of the time we had two cars it was because neither one of them had enough seats for our whole family.

There were a couple of times where we had only one car and it was at least one, if not two seats shy of holding all of us. One of those times our only vehicle was a five passenger stick shift. We were a family of seven and I can’t drive a stick. I’m positive my husband got sick of it because he replaced it with a van fairly fast.

Currently we have a five passenger sedan.

Since only one of our children has moved out, we’re a family of six (not counting fur and feather babies).

Now this in and of itself isn’t bad because we don’t really all go someplace together. In fact I can only think of a couple of times we’ve had more than three people in the car and maybe one of those did we have five.

So no, we don’t have a problem trying to figure out how to get all of us someplace at the same time simply because it just doesn’t happen.

What we do have an issue with is figuring out who needs to be where when and who exactly is available to do the driving.

The real fun part is when one child needs to be at point A on the hour and another child needs to be at point B (clear across town) on the half hour. It’s at least a half hour drive without traffic. There is always traffic, especially when we’re rushed/in a hurry.

Seriously. It comes down to, “This trip will take this much time and this one will take this much time, so the overlap means someone has to drop off/pick up people for several hours straight.” I’ve mentioned my being in the car for hours on end before.

Recently however, getting one child to her doctor’s appointments would require the car being unavailable to other members of the family for several days.

One child was totally not inconvenienced by the prospect.

The other two were like, “Wait! What? How am I supposed to (insert whatever they would need to get to or from in that time period).”

My son finally decided his best option was staying with a friend for those few days.

My daughter railed, fought and argued about it until she finally pointed out we had not two, but three drivers in the family. She then offered a solution which didn’t leave her stranded or the family without a driver or vehicle. (Jerry does have a truck, but he’s the only who can drive it.)

Her solution may have solved her transportation issue but it created another problem.

Now we have to leave our fur babies in the care of my husband and our youngest son. I’m thinking we will have to be calling them at least twice a day to remind them to get food and water to the poor things. Maybe more than that because the dogs will need let out and the cat’s litter box will need cleaned.

Yeah, it’s going to be an interesting trip.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Happy Birthday by Bonnie Le Hamilton

Okay, here goes, I still need to work on setting writing time, but this week has been a bit difficult because 1) I get paid this week, so I also have to pay bills this week 2) there is a holiday coming up 😊, lots of things will be closed Thursday including the banks, and finally 3) Friday is my birthday.

And yes, before anyone tries to remind me, it’s also Konnie’s birthday. I’m hardly going to forget that! Especially because of all the fights we had growing up about our birthday parties.

And believe me we fought.

First there was the cake. Konnie likes German chocolate cake with all those pecans and coconut. I’m not much for nuts in most of my sweets and I can’t tolerate coconut (it’s the texture – hate it) let alone the cherry on top (can’t stand cherries either). I always wanted an apple-spice or carrot cake, or a simple white cake with chocolate frosting. Anything but German chocolate, please!

Second there was the guests. At first, Konnie didn’t mind boys being at our parties, mostly because the majority of the guests were family, but about the time we turned ten she wanted a slumber party – as in no boys. My best friends were boys. One was even our cousin.

You get the picture.

As we moved into our teens, I did make friends with girls, but by then I also wanted boy/girl parties with dancing and music involved. Konnie still wanted a slumber party.

By our late teens we were having two parties, my boy/girl party during the day and her slumber party at night, and generally neither on our actually birthday. I usually got the week of our birthday, and she took a week later.

Actually, she was smart. Very few people were ever available for my parties because they always had plans with their family, whereas those same girls could make Konnie’s slumber party.

But that caused other problems. You wouldn’t believe how many people showed up at either party with just one present! Like they forgot there was two of us, or they expected us to share, and just as bad were the ones who got us identical gifts.

I know I mentioned our 6^th birthday when Konnie ended up with cactus tines or spines or whatever they’re called in her hands, and I had to open every gift, but have I mentioned our eight birthday where one aunt gave us a badminton set, our mother gave her a doll and me a teddy bear, and everyone else gave us identical gifts.

Maybe I have mentioned it.

But I also remember more than one of her slumber parties where the guests showed with just one gift in hand then the instant they saw me, they were like, “Oh, man I forgot!”

How can you forget someone is an identical twin?

Okay, now I can see it, when no one I know now is faced with having to tell us apart on a daily basis, but I’m talking about back when we still lived in the same house! Most of these people only saw us when we were together, yet they forgot there’s two of us?

Which seems weird now, because back then I was the one being forgotten, but now I tend to get more birthday greetings than Konnie does. Don’t ask me why. The last birthday party I threw for myself, on our birthday no less, only two guys showed up but neither brought gifts. (No one had RSVP’ed, though I’d asked them to.) And a week later several of those absent girls showed at our place for Konnie’s slumber/birthday party, but only a couple had two gifts. Yet now I have more friends then family who wish me a happy birthday while Konnie gets birthday greetings mostly just from family.

Why is that?

Now we don’t have the same friends, we don’t live close enough together for there to be overlap, but now I’m the one getting more birthday greetings.

Though I might add, I'm only getting greetings (mostly on facebook) and not many gifts. In the gifts the department, she probably gets more, because, let’s face it, she doesn’t live alone. Then again, maybe not. I do get gifts from a few friends whereas she doesn't.

And I could say more about our birthday, but the more important birthday is tomorrow, not Friday. Independence Day, our country’s birthday.

And with that I’m going to say, “Have a great weekend!”

Happy Birthday America, and Konnie.

The Joys of Parenting by Konnie Enos

Recently I asked my youngest daughter, Melinda, if she was going to go to Wal-Mart with me.

My husband told her, “Your mom will probably let you drive.”

Both of us were wondering if he was daft or something.

When Melinda got her learner’s permit I started letting her drive, at first only some of the time, but gradually it became most of the time. When she got her license it became pretty much anytime she’s in the car. So it’s pretty much a given she’d be driving if she went with me.

In fact, there have been multiple occasions where I needed to be going somewhere and I couldn’t immediately see my keys.

“Melinda, do you have my keys?”

Sometimes the answer is no. Okay, the search is on.

Sometimes the answer is, “I’ll check.” Then she either tell me no, or throws the keys at me.

Sometimes she’ll say, “I’ll get them.” Unless she’s going with me, then she’ll say, “I have them.”

I have enough trouble misplacing things as it is but now I never know if I simply forgot where I put them or they’re somehow buried in my purse or on the bed, or she has them.

Of course my misplacing things isn’t nearly as funny as someone not being able to see something that is clearly in front of them.

We’ve had several incidents, all within the same week or so where Royce might have wondered if his vision was going.

The first one happened when he was looking for the seasonal, as in searching where it should be kept and where it is usually found.

I finally ask him what he was looking for. When he told me, I told him I’d last seen it on the table. Now at the time our table was covered, mostly in groceries which hadn’t been put away yet. He began his search there but still was not seeing it.

I finally looked up from what I was doing and my eyes happened to fall right on the elusive bottle of seasoning. "It's right there in front of you."

He starts frantically looking in the general area in front of him. “Where.”

I tap the cap.

“I’m blind.” He cracked up.

Then a few days later he told me he couldn't find the aluminum foil. I didn’t want to get up and search myself so I told him where I’d last seen it, on the table.

Nope, he'd already searched it completely. So I headed for the kitchen but got no further than the end of the hallway. From there I could see the table. "I can see it from here."

After a moment he finally sees it. "I am not blind."

I went back to my room only to have him say we were out. I knew for a fact there was another roll so I told him exactly where it was in the pantry.

A moment later I hear, "I swear I am not blind."

Then, less than a week later, he turns to me, “Have you seen Tony?”

The last place I had seen his brother was their bedroom, in his bed. From where I was sitting, I could see their bed. I glanced toward it. "That's the last place I saw him."

"What the... The last place I look is the first place I should have looked, right above me."

Yes, they have bunk beds.

Having kids can provide some humorous situations. Because Royce is, well who he is, there’s barely a day that goes by that he doesn’t at least attempt to get me to laugh. He considers it a challenge and knowing it’s even harder to get such a reaction out of Bonnie, he has started calling her with his efforts.

Yes, he can get her to laugh.

 But I think one of my favorite Royce just being himself but it was funny was an exchange between him and his sister, Melinda.

First Melinda again reprimanded him, “Stop yelling.”

“I’m not yelling. I’m screaming loudly.”

“What do you think the definition of yelling is? Whispering?”

“What do you think the definition of minute (time) is? Minute (size)?”

I’m still laughing.

Then this exchange when Royce showed Melinda a puzzle. She glanced at it and gave him an answer.

He said, “95% of adults can’t figure that out.”

“95% of adults aren’t geniuses.”

He could only nod. “Valid response.”

Being a parent can sure have its hilarious moments especially when you have children on the spectrum. We know for sure Royce is and we suspect Melinda is. She’s working on getting evaluated now.

Oh, and next week being what it is, Happy Birthday, U.S.A. and Bonnie.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Scheduling Writing Time by Bonnie Le Hamilton

I never realized how hard it is to write consistently when you have other things taking you away from your computer, but now I’m in that place. I haven’t so much of edited my current WIP in the last several weeks. I just keep running out of time -- more like wasting time.

Anyway, I was thinking about how I had to work out some writing time for myself when I came across a blog on Pinterest. The post is on blog.janicehardy.com titled Scheduling for Writing Success.

The author, Shanna Swendson, says, “I’ve found that scheduling is one of the best ways to find more writing time. This applies whether you’re trying to fit writing around a full-time job or writing full-time.”

She said, if you make the decision in advance to write at a certain time, when that time comes, you don’t need to decide between several activities, but rather just between whether or not you will do as you promised yourself you would do.

She also says, “Organizational and productivity gurus suggest that you don’t even make a to-do list. You make a schedule of when, exactly, you’re going to do those things and you’re more likely to get them done.”

She also said, “I resisted keeping a schedule for non-working hours because I value my free time, but I found that I had much happier and more productive weekends when I scheduled them.”

She went on to say by scheduling her free time she was making conscious choices of what to do with her time, she was doing more things she truly enjoyed (as in not just writing) during her weekends.

She did say to schedule breaks into it, and even mentioned doing her schedule in half hour increments, even if what she’s doing wouldn’t take a half hour, so when something comes along to throw her schedule off, she has time built in to catch up. But she also says to schedule bathroom breaks. Okay, I’m not going that far, my bladder is in control there, sorry.

However, she has a point about goal setting and actually getting things done.

I can tell myself all I want I will write on a given day, but it doesn’t mean I’m not going to let little things, like playing games, surfing the web, or watching TV get in the way of writing. But if I have writing scheduled, well, so far, I’m only writing when I a normally write to do my share of the blog.

Though I do think it will help me, because today, I have actually put my phone aside to write, because it was on my schedule. Then again, my schedule got changed a couple of times.

Monday, I scheduled writing time. Didn’t manage it. I should have, once I finally got home, but I was tired. I took a nap then my sister-in-law needed some help, and I’m afraid I spent too much time over there. Tuesday was off to a bad start when my sister-in-law called saying she needed to go to the emergency room. I hadn’t managed to get breakfast yet.

Don’t worry, no broken bones, just badly bruised.

But I was about fifteen minutes late for my mission assignment at the book scanning center (without stopping for lunch). Thankfully they understood me being late. Unfortunately, the site was down. I couldn’t do my job.

Time to change my schedule, again.

Sometimes life just gets in the way. You have to be able to adjust.

In this case, the book scanning center had to adjust when I work this week.  

Actually, there was a lot of rescheduling happening, because last Tuesday, I’d forgotten I had an appointment on Monday morning (which had been scheduled 3 months ago) and I didn’t have time to go to the center before my appointment, so I ended up being about an hour and half late. Now normally, me being able to make that time up would be impossible since I normally volunteer at the visitor’s center Monday afternoons, but I had taken the place of a fellow who couldn’t do his shift on Friday, so he was taking my shift on Monday.

Meaning, I was able to make up the time. I just got home later than normal. I already mentioned the rest.

Anyway, I’m working harder at setting my schedule, but well, I couldn’t help all those wrenches which got thrown into the works so far this week. Maybe I should pat myself on the back for turning the time I should have been at the book scanning center into writing time.

Happy writing everyone!

To the Men in our Lives by Konnie Enos

I leave the room for just a minute to fill my water bottle knowing full well it’s almost time for the alarm to go off so I wasn’t surprised when I came back hearing it. Problem was it sounded different.

I sit down by my phone and as I’m reaching for it I realize the sounds is different because there are two phones going off.

Since I have a family of six adults living in my house we, of course, have multiple cell phones. The problem is there are only two that would be in my bed. (Mine is actually in my purse, which is on my bed.)

Now the fact the second phone is in my bed wouldn’t normally be a problem but said phone should be with its owner. My husband.

Where is my husband?

He’s somewhere between here and where our youngest daughter had to go this morning. In other words, not home.

One reason all of us have our own phones is so we can stay in contact with one another and there is safety in having access to one wherever you go. But my husband also needs one so he doesn’t get lost. Though like everything else (keys, phone, wallet, and glasses) he is constantly misplacing it or leaving it behind.

Of course there is one time we didn’t even notice he didn’t have his phone until my oldest son needed to call because he missed his bus home from school (this was a few years ago while he was still in high school). He’d called dad’s number but some gruff sounding man answered. He called twice thinking he’d misdialed the first time. Same result.

He finally called me. We were able to get him home.

He came in and asked me why a strange guy was answering dad’s phone.

That’s when we figured out my husband didn’t have his phone and wasn’t sure where it was.

I called his phone figuring if a strange guy answers I could ask him where the phone was.

Guy answers and I realize from his voice he isn’t a stranger, but he’s also not in this state. He can’t possibly have my husband’s phone. My husband had forwarded all his calls to his brother-in-law’s phone then hid his phone!

Must have taken us half an hour at least to fix the issue and locate his phone.

There are some days I have to wonder where the man’s head is because he is constantly misplacing things. I can’t tell you how many times he’s lost a pair of glasses. Once he’d just barely gotten his prescription filled and promptly lost them, never to be seen again.

I don’t know how many times he’s lost his wallet. Thankfully he has managed to find it, so far.

Most of the time I wonder if we have men in our lives to make things more difficult.

Not long ago our youngest daughter had to be somewhere and since we needed the car, someone would have to drive her. I was attempting to get dressed but my husband was talking to me. Every time I aimed for the bathroom he’d stop me again to continue the conversation.

Our daughter finally yelled at me because she was going to be late if I didn’t get dressed like five minutes ago.

I told her to yell at her dad because he wouldn’t stop talking to me and that gave me enough of a distraction to actually get to the bathroom and otherwise get ready to leave.

Then today I’m attempting to get this done before I have to get ready to leave and in comes my husband more than eager to have a nice conversation with me.

I’m glancing at the clock as it is inching closer and closer to when I have to have this posted and I have to get dressed to take middle daughter to her appointment. I don’t have a lot of time available this morning.

Husband isn’t noticing me looking at the clock.

I think I irritated him when I told him I didn’t have time to talk to him, but I’d already told him this morning I couldn’t drive youngest daughter to where she needed to be because I had to do my post. He should have realized I was busy since I was typing.

Then I think, what would we do without the men in our lives? I mean they do serve a purpose, but they either make us scream in frustration, laugh out loud or wish we’d never met them.

To all the confusing, annoying, frustrating men in your life, wish them a happy Father’s Day.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.