Conspiracy Theories

September 24, 2010 at 3:48 pm 2 comments

These are the true and uncensored reasons why I do not make it to the computer to post something new. In no particular order.

1. Lately the laptop, the heat of it, has been traveling through my wrists, into my forearms, causing an eery ache that permeates my muscles and bones, and makes my actual skin hurt. These sensations draw recollections of microwave warnings and all the articles my father has printed out and mailed to my home about cell phone use. Creepy images of nebulous tumors and modern-day diseases. Ew.

2. There is a particular three-year old running around these parts.

a. She has discovered on which a norwegian named Natasha reads classic fairy tales and the like. Although this website does not provide animation, said three-year old prefers to sit directly in front of the computer while the stories are read, thereby preventing a certain mother from doing anything at all computer related. And although said mother enjoys what listening to stories does to her child’s brain, she does not enjoy what these stories are doing for her productivity.

b. That same three-year old has a special sensor located somewhere within her brown and agile body that alerts her to any computer action. As soon as there is even a subtle move toward the corner, toward the keyboard, there are book requests, a sudden need to poop, vague but insistent needs to be held, or falling off chair accidents.

3. If I do not manage to wrangle a window of opportunity before the sun shines fully through the snake terrarium, the odds of writing go sharply down hill. While I can ignore the needs-to-be-swept- floor, my unbrushed hair and teeth, my got-dressed-quickly, still-don’t-have-a-bra-on, reached-for-the-first-thing-in-order-to-not-freeze-while-helping-the-child-unleash-her-morning-pee outfit while it is still considered morning, my awareness of them gradually increases as the sun rises. Before long their presence is pressing on me like that scene from the original Star Wars where the heroes are trapped in a trash compactor and the walls begin to smoosh inward. Tending to these things, the outfit and the disarray of the house, leads to the tending of other things and before I know it, the computer is a speck on the horizon, a missed rendezvous.

4. After the children sleep I like to pretend its my friday, like I’ve punched my time card and I’m heading out the door for a well deserved cigarette. But I don’t smoke. The closest thing I come to a smoke is some contraband chocolate that has been stashed on top of the fridge where children’s eyes do not roam. Permanently melty chocolate. But I like to act off-duty in some manner, even if it means laying on the couch. And although blogging, at least how I am currently doing it, is not work, it still doesn’t feel like a martini with fellow co-workers. Although, my co-worker is a bad influence in his own way. If I lay my desires to post before him he’d certainly let me type to my heart’s content, but most often his offers of a tiny tv screen, a movie, and snuggles on the couch, sound pretty off-duty to me and blogging quickly fades away.

5. I’m writing a book. This is kind of a secret. Shhhh! And mostly it means furtive scribblings in a hand-me-down notebook, that (I hope!) no one could understand if they tried. But nevertheless I’m a bit like my child, who narrates her every play move like a storybook: Then she dashed down the hill to save her baby. And then she looked over her shoulder and saw a beeeaauutiful unicorn! Only mine are more mundane: She sprinkled salt over the stir-fry, hoping to transform it from a pile of vegetables into something dinner-like. For the rest of the evening she’d catch tastes of her salty thumb and wonder… In any case, my brain is busy, and shy. When I absent-mindedly compose words for a post I can imagine those words marching right onto the computer screen. When I compose for The Book, my mind turns toward the corner, hides its face, whispers, and doesn’t go anywhere near something as public as a computer.

6. The seasons changed. This is a natural phenomenon, of course, one that Echo at least is delighting in. Mom! Look at the trees! I LOVE what is happening! And through her eyes I love it too. It truly is beautiful, but what a changing season also means is:

a. A shedding dog. An extremely sheddy dog. It turns out, who would have thunk it, that a dog lets go of his summer coat in order to grow a winter one. I personally would have thought it might be more efficient to add hair as preparation for winter but Henry thinks otherwise. He is shiny, silky, and just the softest pat of butter you’ll ever meet, but whereas I can get away with sweeping every other day in the off-season, twice a day is necessary during shedding season. Carpet scraping and giant dust-bunny(bison) herding is also necessary. A small thing really but when the window of opportunity is so narrow every second counts.

b. The great clothing trade-out. Currently, in our temporary, during-construction lodgings each family member has a personal tub of clothing, as there is no space for dressers of any kind. So when the weather turns snappy, no matter how much they rummage about, they will only turn over shorts, tank tops, bathing suits, and skirts, as I have shoved everything else into boxes. And those boxes are somewhere in the storage unit, the wild frontier of the storage unit, the dark tank that seemed so organized and simple as we were stuffing it last winter, but is daunting and mysterious now, seven months later. It’s only a block away but it might as well be cross-country in terms of practicality. Finally, when a sunflowered, thin dress just wasn’t going to keep Echo warm, we began the Great Trade-out. Strapping into the van, unlocking the tank, climbing about on upturned mattresses, shoving aside seemingly never before seen objects, re-locking the tank, wrestling boxes into the van, strapping in once again, and returning to not only wash every single summer item that every single family member has ever worn, but also trying on, re-folding, and re-figuring who wears what. It’s no small thing.

7. My man has a blog too. And he isn’t casual. I might leave a typo in my posts, I might say something slangy, I might describe with large brush strokes and let the reader form their own painterly understanding of what I am trying to say, but Nathan doesn’t. Each word he types is precise, it describes with absolute certainty what his meaning is, and if not, it is corrected before the next word hits the page. With a process like this, and with posts as long as at least a thousand words, you can not say that he whips them out. Oh no, you can’t say that. Did I mention that we only have one computer?

There you have it.


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2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. 6512 and growing  |  September 24, 2010 at 7:45 pm

    First off, a book? How very wonderfully exciting. Do it, do it, do it!

    And, I love #4. Post-bedtime is such off duty time that you couldn’t pay me to blog. (although writing by hand appeals, sometimes, but not as much as chocolate and some time-wasting type activity).

    And goodness, 6a – the clothing exchange is zapping all my energy. I KNOW.

  • 2. alyssa  |  September 24, 2010 at 8:11 pm

    when i “clock out” for the day i turn to things like your blog…thank goodness (for me) you enjoy writing during your few minutes of down time.


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