Lightly grilled weasel. On a bun.


Posted on : 25-Nov-2011 | By : Amber | In : Dogs, exercise, miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles

I decided that my title doesn’t need to have anything to do with the post. I find that decision takes a lot of stress off of me. It’s a win/win, really.

So, it’s pretty obvious that I won’t be able to finish my book by the end of NaNoWriMo. However, I’m writing regularly, I’m not UNhappy with what’s making its way onto the page, AND I’m farther along in the story than I’ve ever been before. I’m counting it a win. And I’m continuing to write. Fairly pleased about that.

Thanksgiving was – calm. Peaceful, even. Just myself, Patrick, the girls and my parents. Of course, despite the fact that there were only 6 people at the table, there was an 18lb turkey, a ham, and four pies. Four.

I ate all the food. Ever. I don’t think I’ll need to eat until, say, 2014 at the earliest. I even had to do the dreaded “pop the button” on my jeans. I’m not proud, but there it is. We’re a southern family – we cook way too much for these things.

I’ll work some of it off tomorrow, since Archer boy is going to hang with the sheep for an hour or so. Ok, so he’s the one that’s going to be running around with the sheep, but I have to take him there. That counts for something, I believe. It should, anyway. That’s what I’m going with. Dunno what I’m going to do when it’s time to start him on cattle.

Here’s a picture of Archer. Just because.

Archer with the ever-present tennis ball

Rhiannon wanted a ukulele for her birthday. I blame Amanda Palmer. She got one, though, and now Brianna wants one, because darn it if they aren’t the cutest, most fun little instruments ever. R immediately set out to learn “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, which she did in about 15 minutes, and I found you just can’t help but smile when I hear it. 10 year old, playing the ukulele and singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. I dare you to have a bad day afterwards. Dare. You.

I’ve had the urge to write something political, but this just isn’t the forum for it. I KNOW it’s my blog, and I can write whatever the heck I want, but I just don’t want this one to be the “heavy” one. Of course, it’s the only one I have, so I’ve either got to write it here, start another blog for what might be one entry that nobody reads, or write it down in my personal journal and call it all good. We’ll see what happens. Probably if I lie down long enough the urge will go away. That’s what usually happens to my urge to do housework. Or exercise.

This is what I really want to be doing, but it’s closed today. The range, not my man. Yeah, that all came out kinda wrong, but take it as it is.

Patrick at the range. Because hot guys with weapons are even hotter.

I did NOT participate in the Black Friday madness. Not only am I planning to shop at local small businesses as much as I can for Christmas gifts, I don’t want to encourage a practice that has retail workers giving up time with their families because they have to work at obnoxious hours. Family time is too precious for that, especially in families where both parents must work. Nope. Not gonna do it.

And, because I spent last Thanksgiving with this guy and his family as well as my own, here is M. I miss this little booger so much it hurts. I miss his family so much it hurts. *sigh*

Sweetest baby boy ever. Ever ever ever.

Stuff and nonsense and more


Posted on : 16-Nov-2011 | By : Amber | In : Uncategorized

Sometimes I think the hardest part of blogging is coming up with a title for the post. I’m just sayin’.

So, yeah, I’m actually writing fairly steadily now. Not sure what to think about that. It might mean I’m developing some discipline. It might mean I have a brain tumor. It might be a sign of the apocalypse. We’ll see, I suppose. Or not.

R. turned 10 this week, and while watching my baby girl grow up and reach double digits is amazing, it just underscores how time is not just flying by, but at mach 3. Seriously. I know I just heard the midwife tell me one more push and she’d be here, you know? You’d think I’d learned that with B., but nooooo…

She wanted a camera and a ukulele for her birthday, which she got. She and B. can already play the ukulele. That brings the instruments between them to – well, let’s count. Violin, tin whistle, recorder, guitar, mandolin and now ukulele. 6. They both did a headline benefit concert with the Flowing Tide Ceili Band last Saturday, which was very cool. It was R.’s first “real” gig. B. has been playing paying gigs for years. Fair bit of coin was raised for the homeless meals program at the Jewish Christian Outreach Center, which is the organization that hired FTCB. Much awesomeness all around. Lovely venue, too.

Archer got to go play with the sheep the other day, and I have to say, he did really, really well. He’s matured so much, unlike his owner, and is starting to think before he does something, watching what the shepherd is doing, working in balance with her. No, the shepherd is not me. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing with sheep. I can do neat things with their wool, but not while it’s on their backs. That would just be weird.

Does anyone else on twitter worry that when someone you tweet to doesn’t respond, you’ve been blocked or are considered a pain in the butt? No? Guess it’s just me, then. Figures.

Actual conversation in the car the other day:

B: So, I’m so going to end up married to a military guy.

Me: How so?

B: Uniforms are just hot.

Me: Is that XXXXX in the uniform there?

B: Mmm-hmmm

Me: OMG. You have a type.

B: No, I don’t!

Me: Yes, you do! He could be XXX’s brother, and you have a type!

B: Well, so do you.

Me: I know. Tall, handsome, and carrying a weapon. Have you looked at your father? Why do you think I drag him to the range as often as humanly possible?

B: I try not to.

And that is why I won’t be getting any mother of the year awards.

R and I, on one of the days that she decided it was cool to hug her mother.

See? I can do the regular bloggity-blog thing.


Posted on : 07-Nov-2011 | By : Amber | In : Uncategorized

It’s way later than I should be up, and I should be writing on my NaNoWriMo project, but since I’m really, really good at procrastination muti-tasking, I’m writing on this instead. Where, you know, I don’t need to worry about things like plot, or income, or – yeah.

If you’re wondering what NaNoWriMo is, you can go here and find out. I’ll wait.

Pretty neat, huh? At least I’m hoping it’ll really force me to finish my @#$% book and stop looking at my lack of words-on-paper as a personal failure.

For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be a writer. Yeah, I wanted to be a veterinarian, too, but since I passed out when the vet let me sit in on my dog’s surgery, that one sort of went out the window. I did my internships in college and wrote for a local magazine. I taught English for 8 years (and yeah, I’d have snatched a kid up for using these run-on sentences), and I enjoyed that, but – couldn’t say I’d achieved my ultimate goal. I’ve written for OTHER people’s blogs and got paid to do it, which was pretty cool, because, hey, getting paid to do what I actually enjoyed, even if writing about RV refrigerators wasn’t the most exciting thing ever. But – it wasn’t the writing I wanted to do for ME.

So, here I am, and I’ve got this FEELING hanging over me that, if I don’t get this done, I’m going to have to cross it off my list unfinished, and I’m just not willing to do that, not yet. Life will always have a string of “I wish I’d have”, and I accept that, but this – this one I’m not willing to count among them. Not yet.

I don’t expect a lot out of the first draft of this. All first drafts are crap, it’s been said (and by much better writers than yours truly) and, really, my biggest obstacle is getting the whole thing down to start with. I tend to over-think. I tend to over-analyze. I tend to then procrastinate, because I’m fed up with my over-thinking and over-analyzing. I think this is where the whole “daughter of a Special Forces military guy and an artist” really shows itself. I wage this constant battle between organization and happy chaos.

So, this is where I ask for you guys to help out. You see – I really do better when there are outside forces curbing my ADDish tendencies and redirecting what brain cells I have back to where they need to be. If you know me (and you probably do, because, let’s face it, I think all of four people read this), nudge me. Poke me with a stick. Whenever you think of it. Try to think of it often, please. I need it.

A lot. Really.

If you don’t know me, but think that’s something you might enjoy, you can poke me with a stick, too. I do carry a gun, but take it very seriously, so you’re not in any danger.

I DO. Take it seriously. If you lived here, you’d carry, too. Just sayin’. I’ve got daughters to protect!

See, there goes that whole tangent thing again. I told you so.