Hitting the Books

Don’t remember where I stole this photo from (probably Bonnie), but it just screams “Write about me! Write about me! Or else…”

Well, today my hubby located Fluffy’s second in command, Uzi Cat (from downlinepartners.net).

Just had to share those with you.

It’s because I’ve still not recovered.

From the first day of the trip.

My Tuesday went like this:

Went to bed about 330 a.m.

Daughter woke up about 335 a.m. with allergy itchies. Took another 1/2-3/4 hours to get her back to sleep.

Husband wakes me up at 5 a.m.

5:30 a.m. Pack the car in the pouring rain. Throw husband, daughter, and both dogs in the car and set off to slog through the first-day-after-holiday morning rush hour on Interstate 95.

It’s still pouring.

About 715 a.m.ish smell something weird. We figure it’s a car nearby, since traffic is very heavy, even on the HOV (which we were able to take, thank goodness)

Shortly after 730 take the Arlington exit towards Ronald Reagan National Airport. It’s still pouring, but at least it’s light enough to see. Car is acting strangely. I think it’s because the brakes are wet.

Then the power steering goes out. And the power brakes. Then we see that the temp gauge is railed on H. And the little dashboard light of the thermometer is a bright red.

I manage to pull into a hotel parking lot and crank the wheel enough that we’re not in the middle of the driveway (instead we’re dead smack dab in the middle of both handicapped parking spots).

Hubby calls AAA. They can’t be there until about 945. It’s now not quite 8 a.m. Hubby has to get to the airport pronto to get through security in time to catch his 10 a.m. flight. And National has got some of the tightest security out there.

Thankfully, the hotel lets him take their shuttle bus to the airport.

But he has to leave me there waiting for AAA. In the pouring rain. With a quite dead car. And a 20 month old. And two dogs.

The plot thickens.

I talk to my dad, who knows cars. His long-distance diagnosis–broken drive belt. The thingy that runs the entire car.

Ack.

Sure enough, once the rain lets up I see under the car, and there’s the belt, hanging off the bottom of the van.

Double ack.

Hubby makes his flight just fine (whew). But 10 a.m. rolls around and no tow truck. I call AAA. The tow truck is stuck in traffic and won’t be there until 11 a.m.

At first AAA wants to send us to a dealership across the river in downtown DC. I freak. What am I supposed to do with two dogs and a toddler in downtown DC? A very nice agent finds a much closer dealership (about 4 miles away).

Okay, so the car has a place to go. What about the rest of us? I don’t know anybody up in NoVa, not anymore. And certainly not anyone who could take two dogs and a carseat in their car. I put out an SOS to my church.

The tow truck finally arrives. The dogs are not pleased to be kept in the car while being towed (even on a flatbed tow truck)

Meanwhile, my pastor is driving up from Garrisonville (about an hour-1.5 hours south). He meets me at the dealership and takes us all the way to Dulles Airport, where we picked up the key to my aunt’s condo in Ashburn.

My mother was already on the road from WV, met us in Ashburn, and then we all drove back to WV.

I was hoping to be in WV by about 11 a.m. that morning. Even with traffic it should have only taken 2.5 hours from DC to Mom and Dad’s place.

We arrive at their apartment about 630 p.m.

Needless to say, I was quite bushed/shattered/braindead.

The dealership actually had our car fixed by the next day (amazing, huh?). A pulley on the drive belt had broken, so we had to replace the pulley, a tensioner, the belt, and some shield that was supposed to be underneath the car to help protect that area from bumps and elements. A shield which I’ve never seen in all the times I’ve changed the oil in that car. I don’t think it had that shield even when we bought it (we did buy it used). Which is the probable explanation for why that part of the car decided to fall apart.

We had a nice visit in WV, then Friday we got to reverse the trip. And that was all sorts of fun too.

Getting into town wasn’t too bad, since we were going against traffic.

Until we couldn’t find the dealership again and ended up on the wrong end of Glebe Road and had to backtrack through Arlington. Yes, we had directions from the Internet. But like Internet directions, it took us the straightest route = straight through the suburbs of DC. I refused and plotted an alternate, mostly interstate, route. And managed to get us lost. Which is strange, because I’m usually very good with maps and directions and whatnot.

Finally picked up the car around 4, got everything switched back over from Mom’s car to mine, and hit the road around 415 p.m.

Just in time to hit Friday afternoon rush hour traffic.

It took me 1.5 hours to go 20 miles.

Got home before dark, unloaded the car, and collapsed.

Could have been a lot worse. Car could have died on the interstate, the engine could have seized, the water pump could have broken, hubby could have missed his flight, we could have been on the wrong side of town, could have been stranded for longer, car could have cost more than it was worth to fix, and so on.

But it was still exhausting.

To top it off I had 3 Irish dance performances Saturday, family get-together Sunday, and pictures for the Punkin Monday morning.

And I miss my hubby

I’m going to go collapse in my bed now. I’m hoping to post a review of the Temeraire series tomorrow.

Later.

I’m rather scatterbrained right now. My hubbie leaves for 2 1/2 weeks of job-related stuff out in California (the middle of the Mojave Desert. Ickers), and the Punkin, the dogs, and I are headed to WV to see my folks. Have to leave here at 530 am. And our usual bedtime is around 2 am. Yeah, tomorrow’s going to be a lonnnng day.

I’ll try to post from the boondocks, but can’t guarantee.

Laters!

I’m terrible about keeping to self-imposed schedules. I’ll do just fine for a week or so, and then something will crop up here, or something else over there, and before I know it I’m back to bed at 3am and getting up at 6 with the Punkin then being an absolute bear until 2ish when the Punkin and I collapse for our afternoon naps. And of course that’s a wasted 2-3 hour chunk of time, and if I nap then I’m up late again at night. Ach, es ist ein Teufelkreis.

The biggest problem with schedules and my family is we have no set wake-up time (except Sunday morning when we have to be out of the house by 7:15 a.m.) My husband works flex time, so as long as he puts in his 8.5 hours, he’s good to go. Which is why he tends to go into work at 1pm, get home after 9, and neither of us go to bed until 2 or 3 am. A vicious circle.

Okay, so it’s not vicious really. Just annoying. Especially when we try to interact with the rest of the 9-5 world.

But I really, really want to be disciplined enough to write every day. I believe it’s something I’m supposed to do.

So, I’ve attempted another schedule.

This time I got smart (maybe) and used blocks of time based off of a variable wake-up time. So, instead of forcing myself to get up at 8 and start writing at 10am, I can get up whenever I please (or rather, when the Punkin pleases). 2 1/2 hours later I’ll start writing, and write for about 1 1/2 hours, then go on to whatever needs to be done next.

For example: 4 hours from wake-up is lunch, after lunch is playtime, then naptime, etc.

Am I explaining this well? I don’t feel like I am, but ach so.

Granted, it doesn’t leave much room for the muse to strike, for writing until the torrent of ideas no longer flows from my poor head. But I’m hoping that not pegging myself to set times will enable me to finally stick to a schedule, to get some writing in every day. Which will hopefully be more than the fits and starts I’ve been doing.

I’ll let you know how it works.

Top 10 Lists, that is.

Here’s my contribution to the unending supply of lists.

Children’s/YA Books that You Should Keep Reading as an Adult.

In no particular order:

(And before someone gets huffy, I’ll tell you that I’m purposely not putting Tolkien on this list because I don’t consider him a children’s/YA author.)

1. The Dark Is Rising Sequence, Susan Cooper. My college buddies and I loved this series so much that we based our only (pout) trip to the British Isles on the locations in these books (mainly Mevagissey/Trewissick and Cader Idris). And I bought a really cool all-in-one version in Oxford

2. Little House books, Laura Ingalls Wilder. I read these probably once a year at least, and unlike the folks over here, I never thought Laura treated Almanzo badly. I just figured she didn’t have clue how to act. But Farmer Boy is definitely my favorite. Probably all that food.

3. The Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis. No need for explanation. My dad read these to me long before I could read them myself–they’re probably the #1 reason I love fantasy so much.

4. The Princess and the Goblin/The Princess and Curdie, George MacDonald. Lewis considered MacDonald one of his biggest influences. I just think the stories are cute.

5. Watership Down, Richard Adams. Didn’t much care for Fiver, or Hazel really. But Bigwig is top bunny in my book

6. A Wrinkle in Time/A Wind in the Door/A Swiftly Tilting Planet/Many Waters, Madeline L’Engle. The first two mainly because I heart Calvin (I have a thing for red-headed heroes–comes from my Trixie Belden days), and I was so Meg growing up (minus the braces and the math–for me it was English and history). Waters is an interesting take on Noah and the Flood.

7. The Ordinary Princess, M.M. Kaye. Wonderful story, great illustrations. It was only recently that I realized Kaye was the same author who wrote The Far Pavillions and Shadow of the Moon (which is one of the most gruesome “romances” I’ve read)

8. Anything by Marguerite Henry. Especially The Album of Horses. I can remember checking and rechecking and rerechecking that one from my elementary school library. Found it at a library booksale last year. The Punkin likes looking at the “doggies” already

9. Island of the Blue Dolphins, Scott O’Dell. I love survival stories, and this is one of the best, though a sad one.

10. Ramona series, Beverly Cleary. I’m not real big into Beverly Cleary’s other books, but I can read and reread Ramona. Don’t know why. Perhaps it’s that imagination of hers that just won’t stop…

And because I just couldn’t leave it out…

1. Night of the Twisters, Ivy Ruckman. This one has an emotional attachment. The Sequoyah award is Oklahoma’s version of the Newbery. Because I read all 12ish books on the nominee list in ‘84-’85, I got to go see the winning author, Ivy Ruckman, and got an autographed copy of this book. Beyond that, it’s just a really good story.

So, which childhood favorites do you still read?