In the Car

Freya: Mom, you remember how Felicity's grandad died in that movie we saw?

Me: Yeah

Freya: I think I know why.

Me: Oh yeah?

Freya: Maybe all his bones fell out.

Me: Um, I think that's unlikely.

Freya: But then how come he died?

Me: Well, he was old and his heart was very sick.

Freya: But don't you need your bones to live?

Me: Well yes, but that's not why he died.

Freya: Oh. Well, when I get really old probably all my bones will fall out and I'll die.

Me: You think?

Freya: Yeah probably.

Me: I don't think that's something that usually happens to people. That would be pretty weird.

Freya: Can I get a lolly pop at the bank?

Still Waiting for My Smackdown

I made the girls some apples with cinnamon sugar today. They were in a bickering mood, about anything, or nothing, whichever presents itself.

Matilda: Mom, you didn't make our apples the same.

Freya: Yeah, they're not the same.

Me: Well, you better report me to the Higher Authority then. That's a serious offense.

Matilda: What Higher Authority?

Me: God. Just say the word, I'm sure He'll pop right down here to give me a smackdown for not making your plates of apples look exactly identical.

There is a slight pause.

Freya: God.

She looks very pleased with herself.

Freya: I said it.

Today was...

Today was not cohesive. It was not linear. It was, however, both streamlined and chaotic.

Last night my friend who convinced us to sell the house called to ask if she could show it the following day. I said yes, leaving myself less than 24 hours to transform our lived-in family home to something I could try and sell a stranger.

Here's what happened:

Shopping at Target - plastic containers, curtain rods, sofa slipcover, drapes for closet - and Home Depot - Spackle and a paint brush

Then home:

• cleared out our entire closet (which was so bad it was getting hard even to walk near it, let alone access anything inside)
• removed all clutter from our house (including, but not limited to, my entire desk, the random things stored under my desk, everything from Steve's desk, most of the kids' toys, all child-created and child-hung artwork)
• folded some laundry, shoved the rest in my car
  
• touched up paint in living room
• spackled spots in bathroom to give the illusion of a well-planned renovation
• strategically placed furniture in playroom to cover "wall art"
• cleaned all the crap off the glassed-in front porch
• moved it to the garage
• organized garage
• installed curtain rod and drapes for bedroom closet
• mounted curtains onto rods in windows
• desperately called Kehr to request immediate back-up at T minus 150 minutes

Back up arrived. Thank God, or more accurately, Kehr, whom I absolutely adore and simply can not say enough good things about. You know you've got a great friend when she'll drag her kids over to your house after school and vacuum and mop until dinner time. I owe her a bottle of wine this weekend, that's for sure.

And it goes on: dishes, vacuum, sweep front porch, shove all odds and ends into drawers where I'm pretty sure even the nosiest prospective homebuyers will fear to tread, check and double check the floors, pick up invisible specks of dirt, strap the children in the car and leave them there (without even turning on the radio) while I check again and cram as much random crap as possible into its new temporary home in the trunk of my car.

Then we went to Matilda's award ceremony, which was pretty boring, and very nearly too long, but worth it to watch her go up on the stage and accept a certificate for her essay about her teacher. Steve and I were so proud of her, and she was proud of herself too, which was really the best part to watch. Freya would have been proud too, I'm sure, but she passed out ten minutes in.

I don't know how this first trial-run showing went, and I'm dying to call my friend, but all I can find is her work number. Argh! I'll have to wait 'til tomorrow. But if you'll excuse me, there's a glass of wine and an old episode of Ugly Betty waiting for me in my (now pristine) bedroom. I might fall asleep half way through, I might not, I won't know until I try. Good night, my friends, see you in the morning.

This House

One of the things we need to figure out what to do with is our house.


I love our house. Sure it's small (912 sq ft) but it fits us just right, with enough room that we can be together or apart as much as we need.



We bought it just under two years ago, when the market was high, not quite peak, but close, and now that the market is plummeting, we're not sure what to do next.


Of course there are advantages and disadvantages to selling and also to renting. If we sold it we wouldn't have to worry about it, but if we rented it we would have it to come back to. If we sold it we would be able to buy something bigger in Missouri, but if we rented, well, we'd like to sell it, we just don't know if we can. I think if the damn media would just shut up about the economy for five minutes we'd be fine, or at least better.


Every time I think about the amount of work involved in selling my heart drops to the pit of my stomach for a second, but then I set my jaw and swallow. I will do what has to be done. My mother has done this nearly a dozen times, preparing a home for sale, often with her brood of children undoing her work as she did it. (Sorry, Mom.) I can do it too. I will just make the children play outside all day, and then chain them to the television when the weather's bad. Nothing wrong with that, right?

Dear Blue Fish,

How I have missed you. Your rubbed off keys, unreadable except by me (and expert secretaries) - the e, the a, the s and t and c.

Your small screen, with the spacing that reminds me why I've always preferred college ruled notebooks, so much more refined than the large type screens of other computers. You don't need to be loud, or bold; you are smooth and confident.

I know you, I know your bookmarks and your quirky ways, your Mac-only applications, your familiar icons and document titles: np12.pdf, mornings.doc, set3.gif.

How I missed your little red elephant sticker next to the mouse pad and the places where Freya drew on your back with a Sharpie. But most of all I missed your weight on my legs, the ability to work in my bed, papers spread to my left, a glass of water on the table to my right, and you on my lap where you belong.

Blue Fish, I'm glad you're back.

Love, Nell.

writing notes - 3/16/08, 7:10 AM

Once again I am feeling like I don’t know where to go from here, but the fact remains that I must go somewhere. Kelly’s relationship with her father feels less important with the current outline than it did before with him giving her the case, then taking it away.

Maybe I’m ready to go for it again, but take it chapter by chapter this time, as if I had something to lose, shape each piece separately, carefully, craftily.

I want to keep the prologue more or less as-is, and the first chapter can retain a similar shape as well. With the exception that I no longer want Kelly to be a first person narrator. The first person bits should be only Alana’s journal as Kelly reads and should not begin until several chapters into the book.

Structure is something to think about. The story will be mostly linear, with the exception of the excerpts from Alana’s journal, pages, sections, scribbles.

Today I will take a look at the first few chapters of what I have and see what needs to be done to them in relation to the outline. I will sketch out the first few chapters as I want them to evolve and begin work on them tomorrow morning, or maybe sooner since sitting down to a blank computer page first thing in the morning might just be a terrible idea.

I Didn't Mean to Leave You Out, It Just Snuck Up on Me, That's All

I know I promised you analytical posts in which the pros and cons of each school are carefully, thoughtfully and articulately weighed, but the decision has been made. As scary as it seemed, it had to happen sooner or later and really, sooner is better.

This summer we will move to Columbia, Missouri and in the fall I will start work on my Master's degree in English and the University of Missouri-Columbia.

For the past few weeks I've been saying, "probably Missouri," or, "it's looking like Missouri," but now I have to switch that to, "we're moving to Missouri." Even though I've kind of known for a while, making the mental/linguistic shift was harder than I thought. The commitment is huge, but Steve and I have talked about it and all signs point to Missouri.

(Except for Matilda's signs. Matilda's signs point to Let's Stay Right Here, but more on that later.)

I did start my pros and cons list, the pros and cons are all smooshed together, but I think you'll be able to tell how they break down, and how Missouri came out on top.

University of Missouri-Columbia

• Master's Degree Program
• full tuition waiver
• Teaching Assistantship
• Additional Fellowship (including health care)
• Three authors whose work I really like
  
• Faculty and students who have gone out of their way to answer my questions
• low cost of living
• great public schools including Pre-K for Freya

University of Nebraska-Lincoln

• Doctoral Program
• No financial assistance AT ALL
  
• Two authors who I really like
• Bigger city (which is not really what I want)
  

Ohio University

• Master's Program
• Teaching Assistantship
• Authors whose work did not grab me
• Closer to home (10 hour drive)

Breaking News

The results are in: I've been accepted into the program at Nebraska-Lincoln. But they didn't offer me any kind of financial support.

Theoretically this could make the decision a lot easier, but we're not quite there yet. I'll keep you posted.

My Little Prodigy

When I was eight years old, I entered a 350 word short story into a contest in Cricket Magazine. The story I had written (now long lost) was longer than 350 words. I remember trying to edit it down so that I could send it in, but instead of doing an overall edit, I squashed the last paragraph down into two lines. Not the best method perhaps, but hey, I was only eight.

A couple of weeks later I got a letter from the magazine: I had won an honorable mention! I was thrilled. It wasn't until many years later that I realized that everyone who entered got an honorable mention.

On Monday, we got a letter from the local newspaper The Women's Times. Matilda won an essay contest! She didn't just get an honorable mention, she actually won! And she's only five. Is it wrong to be a little bit jealous? I think I'm more excited than she is.

I haven't read the essay yet, it was part of a school project, sent in to the Berkshire County "Real Women" Essay Contest by her kindergarten teacher. The essays were then selected (a few from each grade) from all the ones sent in throughout the county.

What I Want: Part Two

Steve and I had a Talk the other night, about the many Big Decisions to be made and the many Things That Need to Get Done, both before and after the Big Decisions get made.

I've been worried about him lately, not wanting my continuing education to create some kind of divide between us. I mean what if he feels used? After all, there's no way I'd be able to do this without him. My future in reliant on his willingness to support the girls and I financially and emotionally while I go running full steam ahead after my educational dreams.

I want him to be happy. I want him to want to do this with me. And above all, I want to do everything in my power to prevent us from growing apart. As painful as it may be to imagine, it's not actually difficult. But knowledge is power! Right? I can prevent it from happening if I arm myself with the naked truth and face it head on! I have willpower in spades, stupid future, I can force its hand!

So we had this Talk. And here I should clarify that by we I mean I mostly talked and Steve mostly listened. That's just the way it is. I talk, I can't help it.

But part way in, just as I was picking up steam, really getting going, Steve pointed out that I was probably just feeling guilty. Guilty for being the one who's moving forward, guilty for not being the one offering unconditional support and devotion, guilty for asking my family to make huge changes just for me, guilty for expecting that they'll do it without making much of a fuss. Guilty.

Not only was he right, but he was so right, and it suddenly seemed so obvious, so clear. I stopped talking. The Talk was done, that was it. He had cut through all my bullshit about how I want him to see if there are classes he's interested in, groups to join, people he can meet...

It wasn't the kind of Talk that ends with a winner and a loser, but man, I felt like an idiot. How did I not see that? You know people always say love is blind, but I seriously had no idea that the same principle applied to guilt.

Learning to be Sneaky

She's trying, but Freya just doesn't have the hang of it yet.

Exhibit A

I'm working at the computer in the living room, Freya's watching a Sesame Street DVD (the old school episodes from the late 70s, they are so cool) in the bedroom. She finishes and come and stands next to me, silent.

Me: What's up? Is your movie over?

Freya: You didn't put the top on my juice tight enough.

On my bed, a dark oval stains the comforter, soaked all the way down to the mattress. Way to offer an excuse before the crime was discovered, kid.

Exhibit B

Upon returning home from Boston yesterday I went to clean out the books, papers and crayons strewn about the backseat of the car. There on the floor I discovered roughly twenty brown elastic hair bands identical to the ones our Boston host, Riva, had in her bathroom.

I confront the culprit.

Me: Freya, did you take these from Riva's apartment?

Freya: No, I only needed one.

Exhibit C

Freya has just used the toilet. I wash my hands and start to leave the bathroom. Freya steps up to the sink.

Freya: I have to wash my hands.

Me: Okay.

I stay in the bathroom, I know better than to leave her there. She gives me a pointed look.

Freya: I need some privacy.

Me: So you can use too much soap?

Freya: Yes.

Maybe We're All Crazy

As a new - and soon to be ex - member of the PTO at Matilda's school, I was never expecting to be dragged into the middle of a drama-in-progress. Since Monday both the President and Vice-President have resigned and are not even going to finish the work they started on two events scheduled for later this month.

The two of them were definitely the most active members of the group and the President was one of those people who just seems to have her finger on the pulse and is always the one people go to for information.

And she liked it that way. The conflict was primarily one of personality differences, but since our March meeting on Monday night there have been a series of nasty emails exchanged between the two women, then forwarded to another member, who forwarded them to me, and one woman even took her rival's emails to the principal.

If that's not immature, I don't know what is. You're mean, I'm telling the principal on you!

The remaining PTO, which is myself, the Secretary, and one other new member have been left to pick up the pieces. It has become clear to us that the President is hoping things will disintegrate in her absence so that we will beg her to return as our fearless leader.

To be fair, she is also dealing with a family crisis at the moment, her husband began Chemotherapy a couple of weeks ago, but since then she has consistently pushed away everyone who was once close to her and refused every offer of help. If her recent bad behavior were isolated, I have no doubt that everyone on the PTO would be willing to let her be a little bitchy given the circumstances, but it's nothing new. The conflict between her and the Vice-President has been growing since last summer.

Partly I understand that she feels like she needs to keep control over some aspect of her life, as another aspect falls apart, but I really don't get the way she handled this latest drama. What is it that makes people so petty, so self-involved that they feel completely justified in complaining about a grown woman to another grown woman in the same way that a child seeks a parent? Or completely abandoning all responsibilities to others who really don't know what's going on?

When we asked for her help she snapped at us that she was "done with that, you're on your own."

Yet even as I am annoyed with her for behaving so irresponsibly, the writer in me is fascinated: who is this woman? Why does she behave this way? I study her. I watch her facial expressions and her body language. I am detached and impartial, she is my subject, my specimen, and for that I adore her.

What I Want: Part One

The problem is that in fact this decision is not just about what I want, but about what will be best for all four of us.

The other problem is that the list of Things Which Must Be Given Careful Consideration seems to grow longer every day.

Also this is a long term decision, one that will affect our lives well into the future, beyond anything I have dared to imagine so far.

I hope that you will all bear with me over the next couple of weeks as I hash out the pros and cons of Ohio, Missouri and Nebraska with you. I would be most appreciative of any suggestions, comments or questions that might help me/us figure this out. For each thing that I weigh and balance, I am sure I must be forgetting six others.

I've been dragging my feet, not wanting to write about all of this Decision Making Stuff because I still haven't heard from Nebraska yet - I might be accepted, I might not; they might offer me money, they might not.

Here's why that might be important: Both Ohio and Missouri required that I apply to the Master's program, but Nebraska allowed me to apply directly for to the PhD. If I'm moving my whole family halfway across the country, a PhD sounds like a better reason than an MA, especially since it's eventually what I want.

But of course that's not the only Thing That Matters.

There are...

• the public schools
• cost of living
• availability of housing
• jobs for Steve
• other opportunities for Steve
• strength of the program academically
• strength of the program artistically
• (each of which includes its own subset of Things That Matter)
  
• general atmosphere
• compatibility between my writing and the writing of the professors in the department
• graduation requirements
• financial aid packages
• assistantship terms (teaching, tutoring, etc.)

I know there are more, but the girls are arguing upstairs and I can't hear myself think. I need to go through each of these things and figure out what each of them means. Until I hear from Nebraska, it feels like I might have to do it all over again, but I'm done waiting.

Let's get this thing started.