Month: June 2009

I signed Patch up for level three swim lessons. Unfortunately his skill level is only at level two. The disparity is because I had to register for lessons six weeks ago and I made a best guess that turned out to be wrong. Today Patch did not get in the water for swim lessons. This is because yesterday his teacher dunked him and now Patch is scared that the teacher will do it again. I’ve spoken with the staff and they’re going to see if they can shuffle him into a level two class, but the level two is already very full. We’ll see what tomorrow’s lesson will bring.

At dinner Gleek sobbed because I had sent back two movies to netflix before she’d watched them. I sent them back because the movies had sat around for over a week and every time I suggested watching them the kids begged for a third movie instead. So I sent them back and got the third movie. But Gleek had watched the third movie and sobbed with offended tears that I had sent those other ones back without telling her. The upset continued until I required her to either eat dinner or go lay down in bed. Amazing thing, once the food was gone, the movies did not matter anymore.

Kiki called me from Space Camp. She was tired and over stimulated. All she wanted was to curl up in her own bed away from everybody. I know how she feels. I get the same way at conventions. I reach a point where it all feels horrible and I wonder why I bothered to go, but then I get through it and things are okay again. So I talked her through how to survive the next thing. I told her she could call me again if she needs to. Then I’ll talk her through that too. If I go retrieve her, then Space Camp will forever remain a failure for her. She can do it.
(Edited to add: Kiki called back 90 minutes later. She was calm and rational. She had a solid plan where she came home to sleep and will go back to finish camp first thing tomorrow morning. I am so impressed with her ability to calm down and solve her problems. More importantly she feels mature and able rather than feeling like a failure.)

To my knowledge, Link has not melted down today. If he has, it was at camp and I’ll only hear about it later. Howard and I are likely to have melty days tomorrow. The first day of pre-orders is always full of stress and high emotion.

I guess we all have our turn.

I have returned from camping. The laundry piles of epic proportions (and also epic stench) have been run through the machines. I worked my way through all the emails. I mailed all the packages. I organized the store so it is almost ready for Wednesday. I took kids to swim lessons. I discovered while at swim lessons that Gleek has a stomach flu. I tended Gleek, who lay limply on the couch for a significant portion of the afternoon before she began to bounce again. I bought new shorts for the kids whose shorts had all mysteriously vanished. I dropped two kids at space camp. I bought dinner. There are things yet to do, but I am no longer feeling so stressed I want to cry. Looks like I might be able to manage this week after all.

Tomorrow there will be accounting and more store organization. There will undoubtedly be more email. I might even catch up on blogs, LJ, and Facebook. Wednesday we begin to find out whether XDM and the Under New Management sketched editions will sell enough to keep us going through the next Schlock book release. I still have thoughts to unpack about huge extended family reunions and camping trips, but I think I’ve done enough for one day.

I’m going to be unplugged until Sunday afternoon. I’ll probably have things to muse upon when I get back, but for today I am too busy packing.

The book shipping for Scrapyard was just over two weeks ago and I am just now starting to feel settled again. The spate of order corrections has subsided and I’ve reorganized my shipping area so that I’m set up for daily order handling instead of massive shipping. I’m not sure whether it is good news or bad news, but most of the order corrections can be directly traced to my errors. I was so frazzled during the month of April that many things got misplaced. I’m going to call it good news because I can arrange to do things differently this next time. For one thing, I won’t be scrambling to put out a book while I am simultaneously managing customer support for a pre-order. My breathing room will last for about a week. Next Wednesday we open pre-orders on both XDM X-treme Dungeon Mastery and on sketched editions of the Under New Management reprint.

In related news, my attempt to upgrade from Adobe CS2 to Adobe CS4 are still incomplete. I successfully uninstalled CS2, but CS4 informed me that my computer is too old and stupid to run it. In order to appease the program we need to give it more RAM and install the latest service pack for XP. The service pack has been installed without incident, but the RAM is going to take a week to arrive. This leaves me unable to do an graphic design work for a week. This is okay since I’m going to spend some of the time away from my computer camping. But even though it is unlikely I would have used those programs anyway, the fact that I can’t use them makes a piece of my brain nervous. Why is it that any change to the way a computer runs always necessitates buying more new things to support the new thing you actually wanted?

At least arranging shipment of books to Gencon was simpler than I expected. I’ve now arranged for two pallets to be picked up from my house and shipped to the Indianapolis warehouse. I’ve also arranged for transport of those pallets to the show floor. I’ve even filled out bills of lading for sending whatever remains back to us. All of this is not cheap, but we still hope the show will break a profit for us. Getting books to Worldcon in Canada is proving to be more difficult. Howard and I will not be running a booth in the dealer’s room. We’ve attempted to contact dealers and set up a consignment deal, but so far no one has even responded. So I guess we’re just going to have to tell fans to buy books in advance if they want Howard to sign them. The focus for Worldcon will be on panels and visiting rather than on selling, which will actually be a nice vacation for us. Last year I spent the entire convention in the dealer’s room. I had fun, but this year I want to do some of the other stuff.

I am spending too much time apologizing for delays and searching for things I never should have lost in the first place. This is driving me a little crazy because my preferred mode of operation is to accomplish tasks fast so that I am waiting for someone else. Lately too many people end up waiting on me. Too many things require simultaneous organization and in the scramble important things get lost. It does not help that I have physical limits. Today would be less stressed if I’d accomplished more yesterday. But yesterday my brain shut down at 4 pm. I could not find the drive to get moving again.

This morning I put on my business face, determined to knock down all the tasks on my list so they can stop looming at me. I want to end today with no one waiting on me. Then Link, who is being very perceptive lately, said “Mom, what’s wrong? You’re not usually like this.” He’s right. I try not to wear my business face around the kids because it too closely resembles the angry mommy face. And that sums up the dilemma of this summer. I have to switch rapidly between high efficiency business and go-with-the-flow parenting. It does not surprise me that things are getting misplaced, but it does frustrate me.

Scrapbooks are big business in Utah. The pursuit of creating scrapbooks is so common that the noun has become a verb. “I need to scrapbook that.” Or “I need to get caught up on my scrapbooking.” Around here the term scrapbooking implies large sheets of colored paper, photographs, paper cut into shapes, stickers, stamps, and other small decorative bits. This is not just sticking pictures to pages, it is an art form unto itself. There are whole companies devoted to scrapbooking supplies. The way it is done here, scrapbooking becomes a creative pursuit. But it often has guilt attached because these scrapbooking women (there may be men scrapbookers, but I don’t know any) tell themselves that the reason they are scrapbooking is to record family history. But the effort put into each beautiful page is far more than necessary to record the events of a family’s trip, or birthday, or day. Somehow hobby and requirement are all mixed up to the extent that I know women who confess the fact that they don’t scrapbook with guilt. In the local culture scrapbooking is somehow expected. Implied is that to be a scrapbooker, and particularly to be caught up on your scrapbooking, is a mark of excellence as a mother. I can’t say for certain where the implication comes from. It is just in the air, around the neighborhood, at church. Only the implication is wrong. Being a caught-up scrapbooker is the mark of someone who has found a hobby that fulfills her creativity. This is a wonderful thing, but not something others should feel guilty for failing to do.

My first experience with scrapbooking Utah style came when Kiki was a baby. I was invited to a scrapbooking party ala tupperware parties. And I bought into the company. I bought the books and some paper and some pens. I planned albums and pages. I took a photo of Kiki each month so I could create a page about how she grew. I enjoyed it for years, although the album plans became simpler as I added children. What I discovered was that I was not interested in pages as art. I was interested in the pages as a format for storytelling. Most of my pages became filled with handwritten text. Pictures were sometimes an after thought. The colored papers and stickers began to interfere with the stories about our family, so I stopped using them. Then we got a digital camera, and I learned how to use InDesign, and suddenly I realized that the papers and stencils and stickers were no longer useful to me at all. They sit in a box waiting for me to decide to get rid of them. Now my “scrapbooks” resemble layout projects. I combine the pictures with segments from my blog and other informational text. I use the resulting pdf file to print the book at lulu.com. Then I hand it to my kids, know if they destroy the book, I can print another one. The scrapbooks from earlier years are kept carefully on a shelf, defended from the children because their abuse could undo hours of my work. My electronically created family books are not beautiful, but I like that the kids can enjoy them.

I am thinking on scrapbooking today because I opened up my file of pictures from last year. I began sorting through and organizing them to put together a new family book. It has been more than a year since I last worked on family book creation. But it is time to put this back into my schedule. Looking at the pictures and telling the stories of our family life grounds me. It reminds me why I bustle around to get the work done. I do the work, to bring in the money, so that I can afford to buy experiences for myself and my children. These experiences are the point. The act of remembering and writing inspires me to do things that will be worth remembering and writing next year. I need the family books not for the book, but for the inspiration.

I am not the only one who benefits from these books. The kids love to read them. They read these stories about our family and remember the fun times they had. They love to see how they’ve changed and grown. I send copies of the books to my parents and to other relatives. The books give these folks a chance to see my kids and feel connected to our lives. There is value in that. Someday I think that grandchildren will enjoy looking at them too.

I am not opposed to the idea of scrapbooking Utah style. I see why it is perfect for some women. But it is not the only way to record the life of a family. I know people who remember their vacations by the souvenirs they bring home. I know a quilter who can tell you where each swatch of fabric came from, with stories. Words and photographs are only one way of remembering what has gone before. It will be interesting to see what new forms emerge out of this video-driven era. And truth be told, not everything needs to be recorded for posterity. I write about our family because I am a writer. This is what I do. The family books I create are emotionally filling to me, and I am aware that they are more for me than for anyone else. Scrapbookers should create because they love it, not because they feel obligated.

Yesterday I did not touch my computer until 3:30 PM and it was lovely. In fact I only spend an hour on the computer all day and most of that was printing postage. It was so good. Even better is that I spent most of that away-from-computer time with other writers. My writer self so often gets shuffled aside with the press of other needs. She waits patiently for me to remember her and whenever I do, I feel whole again. Many of the other tasks of my life empty me out. Working on writing fills me up. I need to remember that. I need to spend more time with people who help me remember that. Fortunately my opportunities for that appear to be increasing.

The life pattern for this summer has involved me rolling out of bed and running downstairs to get work done. I spend several (constantly interrupted) hours in front of my computer first thing in the morning. I’ve been doing this in the theory that it is better to get the business stuff done so that I can focus on other things the rest of the day. The reality is that I emerge from my office tired and not ready to tackle much else. I’ve been using all my high-energy, high-creativity hours on business tasks. This is necessary when I am negotiating contracts or trying to solve a new problem. It is less necessary of late when most of the work is routine shipping and customer service.

The day before yesterday Gleek had a melt down at swim lessons. It was one of those events when I feel great sympathy for her sadness, but instead of being able to express my sympathy, I had to work hard to help her tone her grief down to a level that would not disturb everyone in the pool area or locker room. She has been increasingly prone to frustration and upset this summer. The scattered schedule we are maintaining is not best for her. I spent much of the rest of that day making sure that the kids had some quiet time and two solid meals. I even went so far as to be the you-will-eat-everything-on-your-plate police. Yesterday I made sure to feed my kids a solid breakfast and I stood over them to insure that they ate it up. The difference in Gleek was amazing. We emerged from swim lessons and she said “I feel all calm and new.” The calmness lasted through an exciting afternoon which included several hours at a park, playing at a new friend’s house, and then being babysat by Link. She remained calm throughout. Food makes a huge difference.

The park trip was an opportunity for me to sit and talk with two other local writers. I’ve had the good fortune that my kids’ swim lessons are at the same time as one of their kids’ lessons. Thirty minutes is not long enough for all the talking we had to do, so we arranged a park trip. We’ll have to do that again, because we discovered that three hours was not enough time for all the talking we had to do either. It was fun and it was really good to get my kids out of the house and away from the video screens for awhile.

In the evening was a Writer’s Night out hosted in Salt Lake. I was not sure how this would go since I was meeting new people. Janci and I both went. We had a wonderful time. As Janci said, it was one of those times where a group of semi-strangers sit down and become instant friends. We were able to talk writing and life and families, all things that mattered to all of us. I came away newly inspired to work on my writing projects with some solid ideas of where I can send them once they are ready. The next one is scheduled for July and I am looking forward to it. Even better, I can keep in touch with these women online.

There has not been enough writer space in my life. I love how events have conspired to introduce me to people who help me see how much I need it.

The back of our garden shares a wall with commercial property. It is the parking lot of a lawn and landscaping service. Occasionally this is annoying, as when large diesel trucks are revving or idling in the early pre-dawn hours. Several years ago some employee stacked some long metal pipes against the wall so that they extended a good five feet above the wall. That was ugly. But then they neglected to remove the pipes and our wisteria plant has been happily winding around them. It creates a beautiful screen so that we see even less of the lot than we could before. This was the point of planting wisteria, to obscure the wall and the lot behind it. For the most part we just ignore the commercial property.

It has come to my attention again recently when I began hearing music in the evenings. It has been happening pretty much every night for weeks. At first I’ll hear only a couple of instruments doing scales and playing fragments of songs. Usually the horns sound off first, followed by tympani. Within an hour or two a full complement of instruments is playing. Sometimes there are voices singing in Spanish. The music continues for hours. It sounds like a Mexican fiesta. I listen to the music and I picture beautiful dark women dancing with brightly colored skirts. Men with white shirts and mustaches play traditional instruments and sing. Children run through the crowd happily. It sounds like a whole Mexican village over there. They are having a celebration. I know that there can’t really be a village in the midst of a paved parking lot, but it makes me happy to picture it while I listen to the cheerful music. When I am slightly less imaginative, I picture the Mexican landscaping employees gathering after a hard day’s work to enjoy good company and live music. The music certainly sounds live. It is ever changing and vibrant in the ways that recordings cannot be.

I know in my head that my imaginings are unlikely. It is probably some night security guard with an exceptionally loud radio. Or perhaps the landscaping company rents out the lot to some performing group. To tell the truth, part of me doesn’t want to know. The mystery of the music is as alluring as the music itself. I certainly prefer this lively music over the Wednesday night automobile auctions we used to hear wafting from the auto place three lots down. The sound of distant music and laughter is pleasing. I can close my eyes and see the picturesque fiesta which I’ve never had the opportunity to attend in person.

This is the book that ate April. We finally have our advanced copies and they are gorgeous. I just created a flickr set to let people take a look. There are also some pictures of the reprint of Under New Management. I even put notes on the pictures, so be sure to scroll over with your mouse. So if you’re interested click on through.

This morning there was yelling, and flailing, and running around in a panic, and objects hit in anger. All of that was just from me, though throughout the day my kids have exhibited similar proclivities. It is that kind of day. Yesterday was lovely. I want to flee back into yesterday. Instead I just have to muscle through today, trying to hack through some of the tasks which are causing me stress. I really need to lock myself in my office and work uninterrupted for hours. Unfortunately summers are made of interruption, or maybe kids are, same difference when they’re home all day. By 5 pm I had succeeded in clearing my desk of all accounting. Gleek called me upstairs for a “surprise.” Such surprises can be anything from a slug, to all-over marker body art, to a new hair cut for a stuffed animal, to a new trick on the trampoline, to a yarn creation, to a picture. Today it was this:

It is not a Peace Rose, but it is giant. I could cup it in both hands and bury my stresses in fragrance. The stem of the rose was wobbly and the petals were threatening to fall off, all signs that this rose had been part of little girl games for a significant portion of time before being gifted to me. We took it outside and I took pictures of Gleek with the rose. It is almost as big as her head. She showed me all her “fairy poses” and I took more pictures. Then she took the picture above of me holding the rose. Even in a crazy-stressy day we can find beauty by the handful.