Sandra Tayler

I am a camel laden with bales of straw. The straw is heavy and I have a long walk ahead of me. I could put some of it down, but I’ve agreed to carry it and deliver it to the proper locations. If I lose straws or abandon them early, I will disappoint others and myself. So I carry the straw. I work hard to complete tasks so that I can unload some of the straw. Sometimes the task is only a single straw. Other times the task is a whole bale. Each time I unload some of my burden I feel lighter, like I could dance. But the walk goes on and I am met on the road by an endless stream of people who have more straw for me to carry. Some days I’m quite willing to add to my load. Other days I watch them approach and wonder if this will be the proverbial last straw, the one under which I break completely, the one after which my ability to carry straw at all will be permanently impaired.

The hardest times of all, are when some task I thought I’d completed is unexpectedly handed back to me. Particularly if it a bale of straw task rather than a handful of straw task. This happened to me last night. A bale I’ve unloaded twice, came back to me a second time. But before I could collapse, Howard grabbed the bale and added it to his load rather than to mine. I may be a camel over loaded with straw, but I am a fortunate one, because I have a caravan to walk with. I have others around me who notice when my knees are wobbling and help me carry the load.

Now I need to just walk around to the other side of Howard and see if I can pick up whatever gets knocked off because he picked up my bale. And I need to try to walk faster so I can unload some of this straw. And I need to be very careful about agreeing to carry anything else.

I told Howard about my camel and straw metaphor. He told me I’ve got the wrong one. He says I should instead be the camel with it’s nose in the tent because in that one, the camel wins.

I love Howard. He makes me laugh even when I feel nigh broken.

I finally figured out why Kiki spends so much time scolding and picking at Gleek. I knew that Kiki loves Gleek and so the constant stream of negativity was incredibly frustrating. Kiki was observing Gleek’s current behaviors and extrapolating them unchanged into the future. Kiki could just visualize the disasters ahead for Gleek in that scenario and so felt compelled to hound Gleek into making changes. Gleek, whose behaviors are typical of a seven year old, naturally rebelled at the efforts to make her react as if she were 13.

Today I found a quiet moment to talk to Kiki about what she is doing. I explained that she is right, that if the behaviors continue forever Gleek has a rocky road ahead. Then I also explained that these behaviors will not remain unchanged because Gleek will grow and learn. The example we used was cleaning up a bedroom. This was today’s task and Kiki was picking at Gleek for not working hard enough. I told Kiki stories about herself at that same age and explained a little about the brain development that is necessary to handle such a complex task solo. We then talked about the futility of trying to get a seven year old to behave and react as if she were twice her age.

As we talked I could see an inner tension uncoiling inside Kiki. I’d put my finger right on the trouble. Kiki loves Gleek and wants to save her from disaster. Kiki is very relieved to learn that she does not have to be quite so vigilant. I am hopeful of less squabbling.

Patches turned five yesterday. It always amazes me how my kids can be so big and so little at the same time. I look at him and he is so much smarter and more capable than he was only months ago. He’s grown taller, lankier. The last vestiges of toddlerhood have disappeared. And yet he still curls up so small in my lap when he is sad. Among his birthday gifts were items representing both his future and a connection with the baby he once was.

Patches got a lego set with all the pieces to create an articulated spider. Patches opened the box and set up on the kitchen table. With the booklet in front of him, he carefully sorted through pieces and put them together. Lego instructions are all visual and he was fully capable of using them. It took him 90 minutes, but he put that 193 piece spider together all by himself. When he was done, he came to me with a smile on his face. The spider was in his hands. He showed me how the legs moved. He told me that it was a nice spider and had the spider give my arm a hug to demonstrate. Best of all was the confidence in Patches eyes as he looked at he complicated thing he had done all by himself.

Patches also got a great big stuffed puppy. The thing is three quarters as big as he is. I bought him the stuffed animal because he is continually begging for someone to cuddle him in bed at night. Hopefully the giant puppy (already names Ruffy) will qualify as “someone.” It is also possible that I’ve doomed myself to having a giant stuffed dog in bed with me along with my not-so-grown-up-at-night 5 year old boy.

This morning I turned my calendar over to March and realized that I have arrived in the first month of this year which contains two conventions. The first is a fairly normal event. I help Howard get ready, then he goes. The second is quite different. The second is Ad Astra and I get to go too. I’m excited to go. I’m going to have fun. I am also realizing that there are piles of things I need to do to prepare for leaving the kids behind. My parents are going to come stay with the kids. I want it to be a good experience for everyone, so I’m going to lighten the burden as much as possible. I’ll pre-plan meals and prep them so that preparation is simple. I’ll create a schedule book that my parents can reference. I’ll collect a pile of activities and crafts to smooth over those inevitable sad or bored moments. My brain has begun to run on the things that could go wrong and possible preventions or solutions. This is all normal, but I need to not work myself into a state of stress over it. The truth is that all the preparation is for my own comfort. My parents are fully competent and the kids would survive just fine. Mostly I’m thinking about all of this today because I have the time. Tomorrow I’ll be back working on business stuff and my brain will be too occupied to fret.

This coming week is a shipping week. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday I’ll be organizing the invoices and printing labels to simplify the packaging process. Thursday and Friday will be the actual packing and mailing. We’ve got about 400 packages to do. And of course there is the ever-looming layout work for Teraport Wars. Not to mention the correction work on Hold Horses. It is going to be a busy week.

I watched the final episode of Doctor Who Season 2. Please do not post comments that will spoil future seasons.
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Musings upon a parting of fictional peopleRead More »

Several months ago Howard and I had a conversation with a friend about the things that teenage girls do. During the course of the conversation, I fessed up to having kept a list of the things I wanted in a future husband. This immediately led to the question of whether Howard matched my list. I was pleased to report that he hit every item on the list. I know because I checked while we were engaged. (embarrassing, but true.) He had everything from “fun to be with” to “loves children” to “taller by 1 to 4 inches, but not taller by 5 or more” to “always listens to what I have to say, but does not always agree.” Yeah. Some of those things were pretty specific, others were so vague as to be nigh useless as a point of measurement.

I think that keeping the list was beneficial to me. It helped me define who I was looking for, and know when I found him. But despite what they believe, teenagers are not omniscient. There are things that Howard has which have been incredibly valuable to me, but weren’t on the list. They weren’t on the list because I was too young to even see that I wanted/needed them. Since today is Howard’s birthday, and therefore a really good day to say nice things about him, I’ve decided to make a new list. It is the list of things that I didn’t know I wanted, but got anyway.

Loyalty. Being married is wonderful, but it is also hard. Spouses will argue, disagreements will be had, there will be stress. During those not-so-good times, it has been invaluable to me to know that no matter what happens, no matter how angry or frustrated Howard may be, he is not going anywhere. Because I can depend on him to be there, I am able to structure my life in ways that would not otherwise be possible. Time and again Howard has dropped all of his things to answer my need.

Ambition. Howard is driven by a need to achieve. This is not always a comfortable attribute. It has as much potential to destroy as to create. But Howard’s ambition has been a godsend for us. Because of his drive, we are now living a life that most people only dream of. Howard’s ambition has awakened some in me as well. We are not done going places.

Creative. I mean this as “creates things.” Howard constantly makes unexpected connections between dissimilar ideas. He does this constantly at both conscious and subconscious levels. This is how the ideas for Schlock Mercenary are born and percolate. Howard is not content to just have the ideas, he must also realize them, make them real. This drive has been a joy in our lives.

Hard worker. All the ambition and creativity in the world will go no where if there is a lack of willingness to do work. Howard works harder and cuts himself less slack than anyone else I have ever met. He can arrive at the end of a day where he got 100 things done and be discouraged because he wanted to accomplish 101 things. (or 110, or 200) Howard knows how to sit down and accomplish the things that need to be done, whether or not he wants to do them. We could not be where we are without this trait.

Need for cleanliness and order. Howard sees the messes that my brain filters out. He prods me and the kids to clean up, and does a fair share of cleaning up himself. This trait of Howard’s has frequently caused friction between us, but I am very grateful he has it. His need for order has forced me to learn how to keep house in ways that I would not otherwise have done. Our house is a much better, cleaner, place because of Howard.

Assertive. When things go awry, Howard knows how to lean on other people to get them fixed. He knows how to make telemarketers go away. He knows how to cut through red tape. He knows how to negotiate favorable deals. I’m not sure this is a part of himself that he likes very much, but it is incredibly valuable. When I met Howard, I didn’t know how to do any of this. I hid from conflicts. I still don’t like conflict, but because of Howard I learned how to handle it.

Silly. When I wrote “fun to be with” on my teenage list, I was picturing sitting and laughing over an interesting conversation. Or perhaps playing games together. I did not know how wonderful it could be to have someone who is unafraid of being silly and who encourages silliness in return. When Howard and I are alone or just with the kids, we do some pretty silly stuff. We do it for the laughs and the joy of being safe in a place where no one will make fun of the silly. Love should have laughing in it. Not just polite laughter, but roll on the floor unable to breathe laughter, and joyful laughter, and appalled laughter because the joke was awful and yet still funny, and giggling, and guffawing, and snickers. Love should play. I’m so lucky that mine does.

Humble. Howard is a very confident person. He has no fear of standing up in front of hundreds of people and talking about almost any subject you care to name. And yet the minute you ask him how he got to be where he is, Howard will start talking about all the gifts and people who made it all possible. Perhaps this attribute should be labeled “grateful” because Howard is completely willing to thank and acknowledge all the people who have helped him become who he is. Howard is also not afraid to step back and apologize when he sees he is in the wrong. These traits have allowed me and hundreds of other people to have a part in the success that is Schlock Mercenary.

Desire to help others. Howard knows that we are all connected. One of his biggest drives to succeed is so that he will be in a position to help others. In all his dealings he tries to set things up so that everybody wins.

This list is very different from the one I penned almost 20 years ago. At fifteen I could not picture wanting any of the above, and perhaps for some people the traits above would not be a good match. For me they are perfect and I’m lucky Howard has them all. I’m particularly lucky that he has them in addition to the “returned missionary,” “handsome,” “kind,” “willing to spend time on me,” things that were on the teenage list.

I married a truly amazing man. He keeps getting more amazing as the years go by. Happy Birthday honey! I love you!

I’m not usually a customer of Deseret Books. If I buy books at all, I tend to get them from Amazon, because Amazon does not require me to argue with multiple small children about what we will not be getting. But someone gave me a gift certificate for Deseret Books and Patches has a birthday on Saturday, so I found a time when I could go solo on a trek through Deseret Books.

Deseret Books is the publishing and retail bookstore aimed at the Mormon* market. I am a practicing Mormon and so in theory this store should be a very comfortable place for me. It was not. I was barely three steps into the place when my discomfort came to my attention. Discomfort is perhaps too harsh a word. “Unease” might be better. It is a large store, full of things that were all beautifully arranged, and very little of it interested me. While I was in a bookstore, I wanted to peruse adult science fiction and fantasy books. Deseret Books had none that I could find. They had a nice YA section for those genres, but nothing for grown-ups. I wandered through the store, noting what was there, and what was not. There was a large section of non-fiction, hundreds of sets of scriptures and scripture cases in every hue of the rainbow, a craft section with fabric and scrapbooking stuff, and lots of religiously themed home decor. I did find a game that Patches will be thrilled to have for his birthday.

It was only after I left that I was able to identify the source of my unease about Deseret Books. It was as if I the store was trying to tell me “you are Mormon, these are the things which should interest you” and the corollary to that “if you are not interested in these things, you must not be a good Mormon.” I know that these words are internal. They spring from the back of my brain. They are reinforced by the fact that products from this store are in near constant use by Mormon friends and neighbors around me. I see them at church, in homes, even as bumper stickers on cars. Sometimes I find the products beautiful and appropriate. Other times I am repulsed by the kitchy sugary-ness.

I feel conflicted about my negative reactions to these products because the values and lessons promoted by the products are good ones. I also feel conflicted because I know so many wonderful people who love Deseret Books and all of its products. I see the value, the good things that can be gained, but the expression is different from what I would choose. I firmly believe in the powerful and moving message that we are all children of God who loves and cares for us. I just boggle a little when the majesty of that message is made cute with cartoon characters. Yes children need the lessons simplified, but I wonder why we are afraid to teach them about eternity without trying to make it friendly first. I wonder if it is because we believe that they won’t understand, or if we as adults are trying to make ourselves more comfortable.

I am aware that some of my reaction is simply my drive to not follow the herd. I have always been an independent person and the fact that “everyone is doing it” makes me want to go do something else instead. I wonder if I would feel differently about Deseret Book if I did not live in the highest population density of Mormons in the world. Perhaps if the products of Deseret Books were not so omnipresent, I would look on them more favorably.

Fortunately Deseret Books is not the one true path to Mormon culture. The church owned distribution center has a very different feel to it. I love going there. It has no home decor, no craft section, no fiction. The distribution center is devoted to providing the lesson manuals, scriptures, and pictures necessary to teaching ourselves, and each other, about the messages of the Mormon religion. The distribution center has things that are peaceful, beautiful, joyful and not a single thing that is cute. When I need things to assist me in practicing or learning about my religion, I go to the distribution center.

More than once I have heard people who were not raised Mormon, express that they feel disconnected from Mormon culture. I suspect that when they say so, they are seeing the “Deseret Books” version of Mormon culture. But that is a stereotype and it only represents the smallest slice of those who are Mormon. Every congregation I’ve ever belonged to, has had amazing, faithful, people who were culturally outside the stereotype. Religions and Cultures definitely inspire each other, but they are not the same thing. It is possible (although not necessarily easy) to be fully invested in one while not participating in the other.

* “Mormon” is the colloquial name for members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.

We knew that we wanted to do something different to celebrate Howard’s 40th birthday. We wanted something that would invite all the friends we’ve made through Schlock Mercenary to participate as well. So at the beginning of this month, Howard posted a blog entry requesting that Schlockers send him postcards for his birthday. They responded wonderfully. As of this writing Howard has received 174 postcards. As they’ve arrived, we put them up on one wall. They didn’t all fit, so we’ve wrapped around corners to either side and started filling additional wall space.

Each of these cards is a gift. They represent a small gift of time and effort of the person who sent them. Some of them represent larger gifts of effort, such as the hand drawn card of Legs jumping out of birthday cake, a hand drawn bear, the photoshopped card of a ROD that purports to be from Ganj-Rho, or the two cards that depict Schlock visiting sites in New Zealand. One person even carefully constructed a fiddly bit to go on his card. Other gifts of time are made in the careful selection of cards. We have a couple of postcards that are ancient, one at least 50 years old. Some people went out of their way to find really cool stamps for the card they sent, such as the 1976 Olympic stamps. Several people send multiple postcards, either packaged together in envelopes or mailed separately. People chose postcards carefully and deliberately, trying to find the coolest or funniest picture possible. A few people weren’t able to find postcards and so sent regular cards instead. One person simply wrote a note on a 3×5 card and sent that.

All of these things went up onto the wall. Our whole family has enjoyed watching the collection grow. The kids have all spent time staring at cards and giggling at cards. They’ve spent time trying to figure out if we got cards from all the states and which countries are best represented on the wall. When I take the cards down, I may do one of those Google maps to show where they all came from. And I’ll put it all together into a scrapbook. Because there is no way we’re getting rid of any of it. They’ve delighted us all far too much for that.

As much as I’ve enjoyed looking at the fronts of the cards, the part that makes me teary-eyed are the words written on the backs. Sometimes the message is simply “happy birthday.” Other times the whole card is filled with writing telling the details of how this particular person found Schlock Mercenary, how long they’ve been reading, and how much they love the comic. A good half dozen or more have drawings of Schlock characters. But no matter what words are used, the underlying message is the same. “Thank you Howard. What you do made a difference for me.” That message is far more valuable that the pieces of paper.

So to anyone out there who sent a card. Thank You. And thank you to all the rest of you who did not send a card, but still care enough to click and read each day. Thank you for the gift of time and attention. We are grateful to you all.

This morning I was oppressed to the point of tears. My list of things to do for today seemed impossible. Howard and I sat down with the list to do triage. I quickly discovered that the list itself was completely managable. The source of the stress was not the list. The source was the fact that both Howard and Patches have birthdays this weekend and I’d not done a thing to prepare.

A month ago Howard and I discussed his upcoming 40th birthday. Howard expressed an interest in doing something special to commemorate the event. I agreed and we discussed the possibility of having a big party along with other options. Then time passed and I had busy day after busy day. Suddenly that far off birthday was this week, and I hadn’t done a thing to prepare. This is unusual for me. I’m usually plotting and planning weeks ahead of time. Ditto on Patches birthday the day after Howard’s. Birthdays are important. It is important that the birthday person feels loved and appreciated on that day.

Once I realized that the birthdays were the source of most of my stress, I rearranged my task list. I could not relax until the birthday pre-planning was done. So I went shopping. I bought some birthday gifts. I ordered Patches a birthday cake. I made invitations for Patches’ party on Saturday. Patches and I then delivered those invitations. I spoke with Howard’s siblings and finalized the arrangements for all of us to go out to Sushi for Howard’s birthday dinner. I still need to buy party prizes for Patches’ party. I also need to pull together a coherent plan for the events of that party. But now I feel like I’ve actually paid some attention to the coming celebrations. Now I have the shape of them in my head and I’m looking forward to them rather than them just being items on my task list. This is good.

I sat on the warm step next to my neighbor as we watched our boys play together in the cul de sac. For the first time in several months the sun imparted real warmth. It was a joy to be outside. In the back of my mind all the many tasks assigned to this day jumped and clamored for attention. If I spread all those tasks out in an even line, there would not be enough day left to contain them all. I squeezed them all to the back of my brain, out of sight. Quiet, pleasant moments such as this one have been rare lately. I wanted to savor it, to spend a moment being rather than rushing.

I’ve not done much reading lately. I haven’t had time or space in my thoughts. But today I finally picked up the book that I ordered from Anthology Builder months ago. I’m so glad I did. I’m even more glad that I included “Sunday” by Alethea Kontis in the collection. The story was a delightful weave of fairy tales and real human beings. I recommend it to anyone who has the chance to pick it up. The story made me happy.

I watched my backyard neighbors two youngest children tonight. Her baby girl was not pleased to be left, but quieted down when I sat in a rocking chair and snuggled her into my lap. Sitting there with her made me realize that none of my children are truly lap sized anymore, even though I still snuggle them from time to time. I rocked and held her close. She needed me to sit still, to give her full attention and she is not old enough to understand “wait a minute.” I relaxed into the rocking and realized how glad I was to have a reason to just sit still.