Life Happens by Bonnie Le Hamilton

Sorry to disappoint any of you who were waiting for Konnie's post this morning, but well, she ended up taking one of her children to the ER last night, and that same child has an appointment this morning. So Konnie is otherwise occupied being a mom.

Next week, I will post, since I generally don't have such emergencies interrupting my writing time which is the major difference between Konnie and me.

Happy writing everyone.

One more Wednesday by Bonnie Le Hamilton

I’ve tried a couple of times to start my blog post this week, but about all I can think of to talk about is the weather, and who wants to talk about that?

I guess I could discuss how different Konnie’s life is from mine, but I kind of think we’ve covered the subject pretty thoroughly. Konnie has five kids, I don’t have any, she has a house full of pets, I don’t, her husband is still alive, mine isn’t. And there is the fact that she lives further south than I do, which brings us right back to weather, and I’m not going there.

The next subject would be how busy our lives are, and for once, I can say I’m pretty busy. Few days go by where I don’t get out and go somewhere, I just wish some of those trips I didn’t have to make.

Like a recent trip to the ER.

I was trying to get some chores done when my sister-in-law called and told me she just spilled hot coffee on her leg. Dang. She lives about an eight-minute drive away, and I didn’t have my shoes on. Something even my sister-in-law could have guessed, because I was home, not planning to go anywhere.

Which reminds me of something that happened with my husband. We were eating breakfast one day, and talking about what we needed to do that day, which had everything to do with chores, and nothing to do with going anywhere, but as soon as he finished eating, he went to get his shoes and put them on.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.”

“Then why are you putting your shoes on?”

He looked at me all confused. “We have chores to do.”

“Yeah, dishes, and sweeping, and vacuuming, not taking the garbage out. Why do you need your shoes?”

He just plan didn’t understand the question. As far as he was concerned, work needed done so he needed to be fully dressed which meant shoes. Me? I was a teenager before I stopped going outside barefoot, and I stopped because I injured my foot really bad.

Yeah, not risking that again.

Another time there was an occasion where Tom saw me putting my shoes on, and asked me where I was going, though more often than not he was apt to say, “Aren’t you coming? You don’t even have your shoes on yet.”

Yeah, I don’t wear shoes if I can get away without them.

I actually remember way back as a kid when stores and restaurants posted signs saying, “No shoes, no shirt, no service,” in an effort to stop people coming into their establishments so underdressed. Kind of like now when such businesses post signs about no pets allowed, and service animals being okay.

I guess each decade has its own big thing or trend, even when it comes to what sort of signs businesses put in their front windows. 

Of course, I’m old enough to remember way back when people MADE treats to give the trick or treater’s every Halloween. I mourned when those days ended by legal decree, though it wasn’t like many people were handing out homemade treats by the time the law passed. No one was. There was no use doing so when your effort would more than likely end up in the garbage. Absolutely no one would take the chance of it being tampered with.

And, for all you youngsters who don’t know, that’s when the fun sized candy bars came into being. Designed so families could give treats to more kids without spending mega bucks on full sized candy bars. Of course, now, they spend big bucks anyway. Well, at least they do if they live where they allow trick or treating, and the kids can find your place.

The first couple of years I was here, I had a handful of kids show up at my place, but none since, however, I think it has something to do with my porch light not being on until someone sets off the motion sensor. You can’t do it from the top of the driveway. The fact of the matter is, most people can’t find my place. They can find the building, but not my apartment, because it doesn’t look like the building can have more than the three units up front. I’m in apartment six.

People often think they are lost or at least took a wrong turn when they see there are only three apartments. Yeah it isn’t easy to find even though I live right in town. I always thought country homes were hard to find, not city homes. Live and learn.

Anyway, its time for me to get some editing done. Happy writing everyone.

Focus, Just Focus by Konnie Enos

For the last month I’ve felt like I wasn’t getting anything accomplished or was falling behind on everything, including this post.

I have, as usual a long to-do list and it seems to be getting longer each day. Most of the time I start the day telling myself I’ll do certain tasks then I go to bed realizing I never got to most of them.

All good intentions but I either get distracted by other things which need done or end up dealing with family members.

Yesterday every time I even thought about working on my post, which I hadn’t done yet, someone came in and insisted they had to have my undivided attention for a conversation. Most of the time I had little or no interest in the topic, which is about par for the course around here.

I couldn’t concentrate.

It took me several days and a conversation with Bonnie to figure out what I had to delete from the story I’m currently editing. (It’s too long.)

And every time I just think about doing anything, like paying bills or working on my writing, someone comes in and wants to talk. 

Normally I can continue working while convincing whoever is talking to me that I’m listening by occasionally nodding or saying things like, “Umm.” But lately, even when I was mostly tuning out the chatter I couldn’t focus on what I should have been doing anyway.

That may be because my family members have caught on to the fact I don’t fully listen to them because several of my recent conversation including them telling me to look at them, not my computer.

Really hard to get anything done that way.

Then there’s my dog.

She has always wanted to be near me but lately she’s developed the need to be petted and loved on, not to mention trying to climb in my lap. How much can you get done with a twenty-five pound dog trying to cuddle between you and your computer while wanting petted?

So important things haven’t been getting done because I can’t focus.

And while I’m complaining it’s been just this last month, I know it’s been longer.

For one, I usually start preparing for Christmas by March. I’ll first shop for gifts for my youngest son, whose birthday is in May. Getting his birthday and Christmas presents gathered at least a month before his birthday. Then I’ll work on the person in my family with the next birthday. One at a time until I’ve gotten everything before Thanksgiving.

Other than getting my youngest son his birthday present, just the week before, I haven’t even started shopping until this week. The next birthday is the end of this month.

Though at this point I’ve also gotten a present for the birthday next month now too.

Times like this really have me thinking about a place of my own where I can be uninterrupted because there is no one there to bug me.

Even then I know I’d want to be able to interact with others, just on my own terms and when I’m willing to do it. I think that’s the introvert in me.

And right now I should have this post up and be doing other things, like getting breakfast and feeding dogs but even without interruptions I can’t focus on the task at hand. I keep wandering to the unpaid bills and that story I’m editing. Or get distracted by the fact I’m not actually comfortable in this position.

And now I sound like I’m rambling. Maybe I am. That’s just about how things are going right now.

Just to prevent me from spewing nonsense, I’m going to end this post now.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Mirror Opposites by Bonnie Le Hamilton

Every time I tell people Konnie and I are mirror twins, somewhere in the back of my mind, I remind myself that we are not complete mirror opposites. Complete opposites would be the stereotypical good twin/bad twin, which, as I’ve mentioned before, I hate. It is so wrong!

I have yet to meet a set of twins who are polar opposites in personality, and as they run in our family, I’ve met quite a few.

In fact, one time I went to a family reunion held in a city park and while we  were there, someone walked up to a group of us, which happened to mostly be of twins in the family, chatting about where the missing twins were, and she asked if this was a twin convention. There wasn’t that many of us! Konnie wasn’t even there.

I swear there were more missing twins than twins present at that reunion, but since most of the twins in our family identical, it would be easy for an outsider to make the mistake.

Somewhere in this world there exists a photo taken when Konnie and I were about six of all the twins in our family at that time. It was three sets of identical girls and one set of fraternal boys. Konnie and I were the youngest.

There are not so many sets in the generation after us, and I have no idea if there are any in the newest generation, yet, but they exist in our family, big time. So, I can honestly say mirror twins are not mirror opposites in personality.

Which isn’t to say that our personalities are exactly the same. For instance, Konnie never had much of an issue with a temper, to the point that the one time she flew off the handle and really laid into the oldest of our brothers, she scared me so bad I hightailed it out of the house until she calmed down. And let me repeat, that is the only time I’ve seen her fly off the handle. We were like seventeen at the time.

There was one time prior to that I heard her use foul language, but she was mad at a cat that time. Then again she shocked not just me, but several neighborhood kids. I clearly remember some of them staring at me in the yard, and toward the house where Konnie had disappeared in total disbelief.

“Wait a minute, wasn’t that Konnie?”

“You’re Bonnie, right?”

“What just happened?”

They were all of the opinion the world just turned upside down because it was Konnie, while I was still trying to digest that Konnie used such language.

These days, her kids don’t believe she’s ever used such language. It happened once. I promise. In our early teens.

I guess that means that she lost her temper twice. I’ve flown off the handle so many times, people who have known me for decades are surprised when I manage to keep my calm so easily today.

(There are benefits to menopause. 😊)

But the fact is, I threw fits regularly even before I “became a woman” my temper was only intensified by PMS. And it is also true that after years of living with a loving and patient husband, I calmed down considerably before menopause kicked in.

Then again, I am not living with anyone these days, so it might be that I don’t have anyone around to annoy me.

Then there is Konnie. Her husband and her kids constantly test her patience. And she has a house full of pets too. All in all, I’m surprised she isn’t bald from pulling her hair out. One week at her house is about all I can handle, and it’s not me they’re calling for constantly.

As for her husband – well let’s just say, I have often offered to whack him up the side of the head with a 2X4, not that I ever would, I did offer. I have scolded him, but I haven’t lost my temper with him. He can be annoying and I’m glad I don’t spend a ton of time with him. I might just attempt to strangle him.

But Konnie and I are not polar opposites. We do have the same standards, morals, and such. And of course, we both write. We do some of the same crafts, And I guess I could point out how well she did in math and biology while I excelled in English, despite not being able to spell. And I absolutely hated Algebra and geometry. I only managed to tolerate biology because our teacher was funny.

Anyway, I have work to do, so happy writing everyone. 

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.