The Bed Dynamic

As anyone who has shared a bed long-term knows, there is a definite dynamic that occurs between the sharing parties.  Whether it's a sibling or a spouse-type,  there's always a period of staking your claim, settling in, and finally coming to terms with the resulting balance of power.  And blanket stealing.  


It's kind of like politics but hopefully with fewer politicians and bi-partisan tendencies.


Big surprise to no one, being a high-anxiety type gal, sleeping for me is a hit-and-miss affair.  I can remember at around age 8 having a discussion with my elementary school counselor about how to curb insomniac tendencies - oddly enough, despite it being in the 70's he did not advocate having a couple of shots before bed.  ;)  Through my parent's divorce and living on my own, I never quite found my sleep groove, but managed well enough.  Plus the fact that I was young and carefree and spending tons of time partying.  After I moved out, my Mom's house was always the place where I could sleep, so when I'd visit I'd get some catch up.  After she passed away, sleep was again at a premium.


Until I got married, where, after a period of adjustment, I now sleep the best I ever have in my life.  At least as far as I can remember, which may not be saying much considering my recent post. Of course, I still have routine early morning wake-ups and the like, but nothing like in years past.  The downside is that now that I operate with sleep, when I do have insomnia it's hard as heck to function while tired.  There's always gotta be a catch, right?


As a result of my years of insomnia, I've developed a few bedtime rituals that are specifically designed to help me not feed the anxiety and to assuage the OCDemon (especially after midnight).   I won't go into all of them because y'all might think I'm crazy(ier than I really am would like you to believe).


Being comfortable during sleep is pretty much the primary way to not only get to sleep, but to stay asleep (which is my personal brand of insomnia).  A big part of this for me means regulating temperature, and keeping the blankets in a relative amount of order to help with that temperature thingy (cuz you know, waking up with no covers affects temperature).  Which becomes more important when sharing, because you not only want to stay asleep, but you want your partner to stay asleep too.  (I'm really just talking to my partner here, and reminding him how bad it is if I don't stay asleep.  Bad for him, that is.)


Let me start this portion of my post by saying that I love Mr. Eggshells very very much.  He does everything he can to make my life easier, often times in spite of himself  - which he will readily admit so I'm not being a cow here.  ;)
Mr. Eggshells is a good sleeper for the most part, and has this really freaking annoying ability to fall asleep moments after his head hits the pillow if that's what he so chooses.  I guess maybe I'm too ornery or stubborn or something, because I never listen to myself when I tell myself to go to sleep.  (Fortunately for him, he also goes to sleep when I tell him to.  Of course, the alternative to doing that is to go outside and sleep under his truck, so really it's a win-win when he just listens.)


The other amazing trait he has, of which I'm completely in awe, is his singular ability to completely demolish neatly arranged bedding in nanoseconds.  


No, that is not an exaggeration either.  NANOSECONDS.  


For those of you who are not geeks (which makes me wonder really how you got to this blog) and who do not know...a nanosecond is one billionth of a second.  Which is really really really small, and in terms of time, well, it would be like if you blinked but really fast.  Like so fast you couldn't even see it.  Not that you can see your own blink but this is the type of blink you wouldn't be able to see on someone else.  It would look like they're just staring at you, but they weren't - they blinked.  Unless they're messing with you, and not blinking but saying they are.  In which case, you should kick them really hard in the shin.


But I digress.  (And if it wasn't obvious, I kind of got lost in my own metaphor there, but I won't tell anyone if you don't!)


At bedtime, we get the bedding straightened out (because, no, I do not make the bed in the morning, since science says that it's healthier to air out the bedding - don't blame me, blame SCIENCE for my messy bed).  I get into bed, cats start looking for treats and/or cuddles (routine-based life forms after my own heart!), and finally Mr. Eggshells gets into bed.  From the nanosecond his hand touches the blankets to draw them back, they are demolished. What were neat layers of covering are now in complete disarray, the bottom sheet is coming out and his pillows are up a tree or something.  (My pillows are safe because I make sure I'm in bed first and my head holds them down...and so far he has not managed to include my head as part of the disarray.)


The first time it happened, I was sure it was contrived.  While he claimed innocence, I have to admit I just couldn't see how he managed it.  And then one night I watched it happen.  One second the bedding was as we'd set it, and the next, KA-POW!!!  Bed 'splodey!


But you know, I can't even be upset - I'm too impressed.  It truly is a thing of beauty - how amazingly awesome Mr. is at this particular art form (because you know it has to be a goddess-given talent).  Me and OCDemon can only laud the power of his creativity in complete destruction and thank our lucky stars he has limited access to gunpowder and TNT.


And I guess, cultivating talents are an important part of life.

Wait, what?

A co-worker recently reminded me about a box that I'd received and put in a specific location.  I had no (zero, nil, zip, nada) recollection of any box, or activity around a box.  But my handwriting was on the box, meaning that at some point it was in my possession, or at the very least, in my stream of consciousness.

Disconcerting!


Several years ago, during a heavy cycle of grief, I had almost constant memory lapses.  From what I understand it's pretty common, as one weathers the physical, emotional, and mental shock of loss.  


The thing is, you can't really let it get to you; it's really the brain's way of helping you through the crappy stuff.  Even my tendency to be a perfectionist was waylaid by my utter inability to give a rip about whether or not I did something or forgot to do something.  (And by perfectionist I mean rabid OCD, but that's just between you 'n me.)


I found that the disconnect is typically harmless...my personal go-to behavior was to buy books.  The same books.  Over and over and over again.  I'd find duplicate, triplicate, quadruplicate copies of the same book in my house, often in the same bag from the same store (they made great gifts!).


I've known people with grief brain who put things in the wrong place or forgot to do things they'd been doing daily for dozens of years.  Completely understandable, but also why it's more like a fugue state then simple memory loss.  Your brain isn't even remotely involved in the present here and now; it's like someone else is operating the controls, and you may or may not be watching them while they do it.


Which is why at this point in my life where I'm not grieving - where I'm actually happy and relatively well-adjusted - it's so confusing to me that it seems to be happening to me again.  Oh, there are a variety of minor stressful things I'm working through right now, but in this case, I think it's more a matter of NOT being completely stressed out.  Like the lack of stress *is* the stress.  


Now how messed up is that?


Having changed jobs my overall stress level is so reduced that I'm finding it a little hard to gear down from the years of ramp up.  Which makes sense, since chemically your brain/body doesn't distinguish between distress and eustress.  From this, one could assume that a change in either type of stimulation can have an effect on behavior.  


I know that there's a certain amount of learned behavior when it comes to coping with stress, and if I recall my 20-years-ago Psych class, there are bio-chemical markers that are actually patterned in the brain when those learnings take place.   It would make sense that the process of changing those behaviors or un-learning specific coping mechanisms would also change the bio-chemical markers.  Or at the very least disrupt them.


All this because I keep forgetting stuff.  Is it any wonder, with all that random "stuff" in my head?  


For my next trick, I'm planning on going off caffeine.  I expect my brain will completely melt, while at the same time analyzing it to death.

The Making of a Writer

At the beginning of November I posted about joining Nanowrimo, touted as "30 days of literary abandon."  And while I've been writing since about age 7, I had never in my entire life sat down to a specific goal with a set deadline when it came to writing.

I wasn't entirely sure it would work.  Granted, I know about the value of project management - I wouldn't have been in the business of it for 20 years if I didn't.  Maybe it's because I do it for work that I never thought about applying it to my creative endeavors.  Or maybe I was just trying to keep the two separate.

In any case, I'm not sure if it matters so much to break it down.  What I do know is that between the muse and I, we dominated those 50,000 words.  What hits home even more forcefully to me is that those 50,000 words were managed while life went on.    That despite having zero prepped when I started, being sick, recovering from a minor accident, and taking time for a much needed Lord of the Rings marathon.  (Truly, mandatory!)

Since finishing (or winning, as they like to call it, and hey, who am I to argue?!), I've taken a wee break from writing.  Oddly enough, the pattern has been set - I've felt like something was missing the last couple of days.  Like when I haven't finished reading a book and it's nagging at me to go read.  Only it's my book.  And it's calling me to finish.

It's a good feeling, all the way around.

Swagbucks Link

I've been using this website for almost a year now...this is a place where you can earn Swagbucks (SB) for doing various things you'd normally do online (i.e. searching, watching videos, etc.), as well as redeeming extra SB when you print manufacturer's coupons via their site and redeem them at the store (it's like getting bonuses twice - you get the coupon value at the store and then credit with SB!).  


I've been redeeming my SB for handy things such as Amazon.com gift cards.  :)  I don't put a huge amount of focused time into it, just what I would normally do out there in the interwebs (it's been super-awesome while doing research on my fledgling novel).


I added the link at the side so other people can do it too!   Plus, as an added bonus to me (LOL), if you use my link to get there, I get a referral bonus.  

By request...

an excerpt of the novel - the rough prologue to be exact.  :)


**********



The sound was always first.


Long before she felt the familiar throb, came the faint, high-pitched keening.  There was no other word for it, as if all the grief and pain in the universe was focused in one place at one time.  As the knifelike cacophony grew in slow, deafening volume, the pulse would begin.  Rhythmic, nauseating, it felt good and bad all at the same time.  Like a drug in her veins, winding through her system.  Knowing how bad it would feel later but not wanting, or being able to stop, because despite the bad, it felt just too incredible.


But stop it did, eventually, and although it didn't always end well, the ride had a comforting familiarity.  After all this time, the one thing she knew was that out of all the unexpected in her world this at least had a predictable outcome.  At least thus far it had anyway, she thought wryly, noting that she was getting better at managing to concentrate in the epicenter of the shrieking torment raging around her.  


There was always him.  She knew he'd be there, somewhere, either shortly before or soon after.  She knew of others who were forever alone in this experience, existence drawn with a wicked blade and torn as easily as a piece of paper.  She didn't dwell too long on those unfortunate souls, for it was long past the time when she could do anything for them.  Except hope that she didn't suffer the same fate.


Shuddering from the thought as much as from the external forces on her skin, she took one last look around the familiar space.  A thought streaked through her mind and she hastily took a few steps forward into the room.  With nerves jangling, and with the knowledge that she was mere seconds away, she reached into the bedside table and recovered the one object she knew she'd need.  That done and time winding down, her eyes alighted on the picture by the bed.  A brief smile was all the time she had, even as she braced for the inevitable.  Taking a deep breath, she surrendered herself to what she knew came next. 


And it did, as it always did.

Keep Breathing

Mini-update - have been out of commission with the flu and then recovering from a minor burn to the face (I know, right?).  Then I started my novel over.  It's working MUCH better now but as a result, I'm pretty much Writing Gurl for the rest of the month (I don't even get a cape, dangit!).


However, to tide you lovelies over for a bit, here's a little mellow out Zen for you.  :)


*****************


Found this idea on Youtube and just had to share.


First, go to http://www.rainymood.com/


In a second tab, open this video and hit play:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fORAPkfVV_A

Enjoy!

Do NOT Google THAT!

I work with some very awesome people, who make the frustrations of the day much fewer and make sure we have plenty of laughs along the way.  In fact, these were the first friends I made here in the U.S and they made the transition that much easier.  (Did I ever thank y'all for that?  If not, THANKS!)


One woman in particular worked very closely with me on my first-ever project and in a wonderful turn of events, we're again working together on a project for the same client (albeit in different roles from 6 years ago).  We're going to call her Cookie, which is my nickname for her from a long ago conversation on stripper names (!), and it's extremely apropos in this conversation.  Cookie works from her home office in another state.


There are several project activities for which I'm responsible, that require me to have information such as owner/landlord's name, the location's tax/parcel number, and a street address.  Which can be problematic when you're working on a parcel that hasn't been assigned a street address by the jurisdiction.


The following is excerpted from a Skype conversation between Cookie and myself, in which we attempt to find the street address.  I've added some additional dialogue in a different color in the text.  Names are changed to protect the not so innocent.


**Warning...subject matter and language may not be safe for work unless you work someplace cool...**


Me:  Yo Cookie.  You there?


Cookie:  Yes.


Me: [Site name] Another address issue. Don't be mad.


Cookie:  LOL  I don't know the address yet, it's a new site.


Me: Right, so am I using the Third Addition, Blk 36 thingy (*yes that's the technical term*), or just put as pending?


Cookie:  Do they want the "closest address"?


Me: I don't know what they want, other than my tracker updated.


Cookie:  LOL  Who's asking?


Me: [Client department, name and job title]  I have no direct relationship with them and [Client project manager] says he wants all contact through him.


Cookie:  Ok, does [Client PM] remember that this is a new site and that we have no actual address yet?  I'm just asking because sometimes he forgets.  I will get him closest address.


Me: Are we re-submitting the candidate documents?  (This will sometimes confirm the address, or at least buy us some time.)


Cookie: Ummmmmm no.  They just moved it to a different lot.  This is difficult.


Me: Dang.  Okay.  How about I use [old address #1] and just note that it will change?


Cookie:  Oh yes, if you have the parcel address, perfect.  Parcel 18?


Me: No.  I have [parcel #] (A really long ass number higher than "18")


Cookie:  No.  I'll get you a new one.


Me: Okay.


Cookie:  hahaha...no address on file for the parcel


Me:  Of course.  I'll just put no address assigned.  If they want something more later we can go into detail.


Cookie:  Wait, there is a strip club next door.  Let me try that address.


Me:  I'm not putting that in my tracker.


Cookie:  OMG.  It comes up with 8008135


Me: Are you seriously putting strip club in a Google search?  OMG


Cookie:  (that is BOOBIES in #)  tee hee


Me: Yes, I know.  You're so 12.


Cookie:  I totally am.  But so are you.  ;)  Well, you may be 13...a little more mature.


At this point I should point out that I stepped away to my co-worker to get him to Skype "8008135" to Cookie using his Skype account.



CADMonkey: (finger)  (This is an emoticon of a smiley face flipping the bird.)

CADMonkey: 8008135

Cookie:  ROFL  How is it that you "know" what it types?  hahahaha  Now if I"m reading this correctly, you are saying "fuck boobies"...that is a little raunchy for even me.  Geez.

CADMonkey: haha 

Cookie:  So do you know the address of the strip club?  Or do we need to talk to [other co-workers]?

CADMonkey: [Co-worker] took some pics of the sign.

Cookie: We need 'em.  Does it say 100 men for each woman, we have them all here...come on in?

CADMonkey: Nope.  Just a neon sign of a naked cowgirl.  Trying to find it, I'll send.

Me:  I am mature.  Which is why I told CADMonkey to Skype you.  But not with the finger.  He did that on his own.


Cookie:  So still trying to find you the closest address.  (Some back and forth on the site particulars.)


Cookie:  Ummmm OMG.  So I found the name of the club.  Typed it in on Google.  And ended up at some porn site.  OMG  Can't they just give me the address?


Me:  I so told you not to do that.  You are killing me here.


Cookie:  And the address is on Hyder street.  Hide her.  Get it?  HAHAHAHAH I am 12!


Me:  hahaha, CADMonkey's laughing at you too.


Cookie: Thank god my kids weren't behind me.  Seriously.


Me: Well yeah.  Spiffy parenting, that.  I TOLD you not to go there.  There are just some things you DON'T Google.  EVER.


Cookie:  Now my daughter wants to know why I was looking up strip clubs.


Me: I don't doubt it, she's your child.


Cookie:  She won't believe anything I tell her.


Between us we manage to convince her daughter that this is a legitimate business activity.  She says she believes us.  I love kids.  ;)


Cookie: Well, anyway.  The address is on Hyder but it won't be the way we enter. From behind.  ROFL  Get it?


Me: OMG I had just gotten myself under control again.


Cookie: I just made myself laugh so hard she came running to read.  I wouldn't let her.


Me: I guess not!


We finish sorting out the address and Cookie re-iterates that I should make sure the client understands it's temporary.  Because....


Cookie:  Because he will forget.  And then I will have to explain why my daughter had to find me looking at porn.  During the mid-day.


Me:  LOL


Cookie:  xxxx is the strip club address.  WHOOOO HOOOOO  Oh nevermind, again that is Hyder.


Me:  You are nuts.  You know you're not AT the strip club, right?




Moral of this story:  Don't Google strip clubs while at work.

Holiday Mail for Heroes

Okay folks, it's that time of year again. Please take a moment to click through to my fellow blogger's post about HOLIDAY MAIL FOR HEROES (troops overseas). The cost of a stamp or two and you can make a service person's holiday season. They do a lot for us, please do this for them.

Holiday mail for Heroes at Housewise

NaNoWriMo

In a chance of fate or, what I choose to believe, the deliberate dragging of my muse by my hair (dang, just noticed I need to dye it again), yesterday I was reminded of the existence of NaNoWriMo.  Which stands for National Novel Writing Month.  With a goal of 50,000 words (standard novel size) the challenge is to write a novel between November 1st and 30th.  

From what I can tell it started in 1999 and I think I knew about it around 2003 or 2004.  But had promptly forgotten about until someone posted their day total yesterday on Facebook.

Within a few minutes I had joined and committed to the challenge.  Or I was committed.  Or should be.  Or something.

Because to reach the word goal, it's about 1700 words a day.  1700.words.a.day.  

There is a forum for writers in my area, and this may end up harvesting some of the writer's group types I'm needing longer-term.  I'm kind of excited to have a goal and one that is relatively attainable.    Since I woke up at 3 am with novel percolating, it seemed only natural to get up and start writing.  So I did.

Did I mention 1700 words a day?  

I'm already exhausted.

1700 words.  That string together to make sense.  What have I done???

I'm currently at just over 3000 words.  Oh.my.god.  I haven't written that much in one stretch in, like, ever.  

Yes, I'm crazy.  But it's a good crazy.

He told me no.

Well the honeymoon's over.  We had a good run, but that's it.


Since pretty much all three of my readers know my husband, they know that he worships the ground I walk on.  While simultaneously plotting devious ways of ascending to the post of ultimate commander of the universe.  Of course, he's very brilliant so plotting doesn't take up much mental capacity, so the balance of his time is spent just fostering a environment of weird.  In which I am also living.


However, the one constant in my universe is that boobies trump all and as a result I don't get told no.  Ever.


Oh, I get asked nicely to wait on some things.  I am involved in discussions where my argument doesn't end up being chosen as the winner.  But the flat-out "no"?  Just doesn't happen.  


Until Wednesday.  When I was unceremoniously told that NO we could not have pancakes for dinner, because he really wanted grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.  


No dialogue.  No pros and cons.  Just no.


I know this is just the beginning.  He'll use no on other occasions I'm sure.  And then where will it end?  No place good, that's for sure.


I'm just going to have to get a boob augment.  Hopefully that will weight things in my favor again (get it?).




ETA:  I did get pancakes the next day.  So he's not a total monster.  But really!  Waiting!!!