Day 27: These are a few of my least favorite things...

1. There is hedgehog pee on my favorite hoodie. And poo. That's what you get for driving half an hour to work with a hedgehog in your front pocket in -30 degree weather. I'm pretty sure I looked like I was six months pregnant with a very active and prickly child. I'm just glad he didn't try to bite me.

That would have been awkward.

2. A pool of water is collecting on my kitchen floor. This may or may not have something to do with the fact that the refrigerator tray - which was previously duct-taped to the back of the refrigerator - has fallen off and I don't know where it is. I think Nathan threw it out. At least the fridge no longer sounds like The Walking Dead.

3. Kia - our intact female Newfoundland - is bleeding (definitely in heat now) and Sam - our intact male Newfoundland - has his waist in a "belly band" (a product we are using to discourage mating). He looks like an extremely hairy Victorian woman in a corset. No making little Sams today - unless he does it while we're sleeping.

He also chewed off one of Mickey Mouse's ears. That's what love will do to you.

4. I spent ten straight hours frantically typing my Wintergirls review, breaking only to let the dogs out and inhale breakfast, lunch, and coffee ... and the odd slice of gluten-free banana bread. Thankfully, it is now finished (the review and the banana bread). I also wrote and submitted a quick-and-easy pizza recipe because I think sideways and can't do less than two things at once. If it's accepted, I'll earn $50.

Woot. That should pay for like one fifth of our next power bill.

5. The meter man left a note in our mailbox that says we used double the amount of water that we usually do. Is our toilet constantly running? Yes. Yes it is.

6. I can't find my credit cards. Not sure whether to wait or report them lost or stolen ... again.

7. Dog drool has dried in geometric patterns on my computer keyboard where I keep wiping it off with my elbow.

8. My couch is covered with clothes, sleeping cats, and a multitasking husband in his PJ's - texting, checking Kijiji for classic cars, and playing video games ALL AT THE SAME TIME.*

Gasp.

It's a good thing it was a snow day today...

...or I would be really miserable!

*To be fair, Nathan cooked supper AND bought dog food AND packed the dishwasher AND made me Yonanas ice-cream. He also worked all day.

Sam & Mickey (what's left of him).

Sam & his belly band.

Update: I found my credit cards. They were ... inside my Bible??? God is definitely telling me something there.

Day 23: She didn't eat it! A lesson in worry.

I had a good surprise today. She didn't eat it. 

Let me explain.

Two weeks ago, I left a plastic bag of cat treats on a shelf. A high shelf. Inside a bucket, where I thought they would be safe.

They weren't.

Two weeks less one day ago, I woke up to find the bucket on the floor. The bag of cat treats was gone. And one very guilty-looking dog stared up at me from the couch.

I was worried.

I went online to find out what to do if a dog swallows a plastic bag. Everything I read confirmed what I already knew: go to a vet.

But vets cost money. A LOT of money. We'd spent hundreds of dollars when we adopted Kia in the fall and hundreds more treating Sam's ear infection ... and we were still spending. And I wasn't even sure which dog could have eaten it. So I searched the house.

Nothing.

I second-guessed myself. Did I really leave the bag there? Maybe I put it somewhere else. Somewhere I won't think to look until next summer. Somewhere the dogs couldn't have eaten it. Somewhere it could have fallen behind furniture or under a couch. Maybe the cats knocked over the bucket. I even put the (empty) bucket back on the shelf to see if the cats would knock it off again. They did. Morning after morning, I found it on the floor.

And I worried. I pictured the sharp plastic corners ripping up my dog's stomach. I analyzed my dogs' appetites and picked through their stool and fed them canned pumpkin to coat their soft insides. I felt guilty. Guilty that I chose to adopt a dog and now I couldn't even afford to take it to the vet.

For two weeks I worried and worried and worried. Nothing happened. The dogs ate and pooped on schedule and were their usual happy selves. A ray of hope began to grow. The bag must be somewhere. They can't have eaten it. I pinned all my hopes on one event: housecleaning.

When I clean the house, I'll find it then.

Today, I cleaned the house. Actually, Nathan did most of it. I was too busy searching. Searching desperately for the missing bag of cat treats. It was nowhere to be found.

Every time I shone a flashlight down a dark cranny or organized a cupboard or moved a piece of furniture, a piece of hope died. The bag wasn't behind the fridge or under the washing machine or in the dryer-that-doesn't-work-anymore-but-we-still-haven't-got-rid-of-it.

There were two bags of dog treats in the freezer and two more bags of cat treats in the fridge. Did I have two bags or three? I'm pretty sure it was three.

I finally collapsed on the couch, exhausted and irritable. I grumped at Nathan who, having finally unclogged the shower, was happily playing Skyrim and fantasizing about how nice the basement will be once we renovate.

And then I spied them. Two cat-treat-bag-sized holes under a dresser my parents gave us last month. I'd already opened every drawer and shone a flashlight in behind it. I was pretty sure the bag wasn't there. But I pulled it out anyway.

Nothing.

My heart sank. I pushed the dresser back in. As I pushed, I heard a crunching sound and felt plastic under my sock. I looked down.

A green bag of "Seafood Medley Flavor" cat treats stared back up at me. Relief!

She didn't eat it. 

(Although she did eat half a block of cheese last week with no ill effects.)

"Thank you God," I prayed. And then I got teary-eyed. And then I showed Nathan. Anyone who has a gamer husband knows that "showed" equates to waving the bag of cat treats between him and the TV while he says, "Yes, dear" and tells you that king Jarl Balgruuf the Greater is helping him trap a dragon so he can find another dragon named Alduin that feeds on souls.

Goodness, I shouldn't have asked him that. He's still talking. Now it's my turn to say, "Yes, dear."

Actually, I usually go with, "That sounds exciting."

I hate video games.

I always forget that it's not enough to remind Nathan that he needs to be ready to leave in fifteen minutes. I have to remind him fifteen minutes before that that he needs to get ready to be ready to leave fifteen minutes later.

But I suppose it's always something.

I used to think it was cute and romantic that Clementine Churchill had to remind Winston Churchill at least three times before he had to catch a train - or else he blamed her for him being late. Now I feel her pain.

And men think we are complicated.

How Saturday has flown by! My book review is due in five days ... or is it four? I haven't written a single word. Funny how worry so quickly transfers from one thing to another!

Happy writing!

Nathan with our doggie friends. 

Day 21: Poached Eggs & Lost Gift Certificates

Last night, I poached an egg for the very first time.

I followed a technique described by chef Gordon Ramsay.
Of course, I use the term "followed" loosely.
I didn't have any white vinegar, so I used apple cider vinegar instead.
And I accidentally added salt.
A lot of salt.

But each one was a thing of beauty.

I crooned over them like newborn babies.
I even said mmm ... cheese sauce as a tribute to blogger Julia Powell (of Julie and Julia fame).
And I gently placed them atop my gluten-free mushrooms on toast - also courtesy of Mr. Ramsay.

I lie. 

Egg poaching actually occurred on dog poo day.

Last night was an entirely different story...

Last night, my hubby planned to take me out for a romantic dinner at a nice restaurant.
My parents gave us gift cards for Christmas.
Do you think we could find them?

No.

First we spent a very romantic hour ransacking the house for the gift cards.
Then we spent another romantic hour in the grocery store buying half price Black Angus ham, chocolate, and broken cinnamon candy canes. And Wensleydale cheese.

Cheeeeese, Gromit!

In the end, we cobbled together an excellent impromptu supper.
We also enjoyed an intense moment in the cleaning products aisle.
I knelt on the floor while Nathan read the labels on all five types of of drain cleaner and tried to decide between Liquid Plumr and Drano.

I seem to be kneeling a lot. Maybe God is trying to teach me something.

On the artistic front, I've been studying the art of Michael Martchenko, doing quick sketches based on his work, and trying to apply the principles I've learned to drawings of real people.

This practice is also known as reading Robert Munsch books before bed.

A short term goal I'd like to set for myself is to be ready to do sketches of people at the Crosspoint Missions Yardsale in May. It was something I wanted to do last year, but never got around to it.

Last year, I painted children's faces instead.
I will never get my face painted.
Paint and snot don't mix.

I lie.

They mix rather well.

Poached Eggs and Mushrooms on Toast

Update: 

You'll never believe what I just did ... again.

I took a shower and forgot to put Sam in his crate. He didn't poo this time, though. When I came out, he was lying on the floor waiting for a belly rub.

Thank you God for small victories. 

Day 20: Why you shouldn't have pets unless you REALLY REALLY love them.

Warning. Don't read this post if you have a weak stomach. 

I had an unusual wake-up call yesterday morning.

I slipped in a pile of dog barf. Not even a pile, really.

More like a lake.

And it wasn't really barf - in the traditional sense of the word. More like what happens when one dog eats all of her food, then the rest of the other dog's food, then gorges on water.

It was also all over my pants.

So if you looked in my window this morning and wondered why I was standing with no pants on in the middle of my kitchen, attempting to wash the floor with an empty Swiffer Wet Jet ... now you know.

Swiffer Wet jets are designed to run dry the moment you REALLY need them.

I used a towel  instead. This was a good idea ... until I put the towel directly into the washing machine, which was still filled with my just-washed dress clothes waiting to be hung up to dry.

And then it got worse.

I took a shower. This is significant only because Sam immediately loses all control over his bowel movements if no one is visibly present. He's fine if we put him in his crate. But yesterday morning, I forgot.

As soon as I remembered this crucial piece of information, I flung open shower curtain. Sam was lying on the floor just outside the shower. PHEW! I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

And then I smelled it.

CRAP. (In both senses of the word.)

So if you looked in my (open) window this morning and wondered why I was shivering in a wet towel (not the same one), in an attitude of prayer over a small brown mound on a pink carpet ... now you know.

At least Sam doesn't have diarrhea anymore.
Or worms. You do NOT want me to tell you my worm stories.
They were still moving when they came out.

As I rushed out the door on my way to work, I remembered ... Tuesday is garbage day!
Do you think that handsome husband of mine remembered to take out the trash?

Yes. Yes he did. There was even room by the curb for one more bag of you-know-what.

Nathan, you are my sanity. What's left of it anyway.

Happy belated Tuesday, everyone! Here's to a better Wednesday.

Day 18: Cold

In the winter, I am a semi-responsible dog owner.

I love being outside during spring, summer, and fall.
Three seasons of the year, my big fluffy creatures get at least two walks per day - provided it's not raining.
Plus, some outdoor time chilling with me in the backyard.

Not in winter. In winter, I'm chilling all right. But I don't have to be outside to do that.
The dogs get one walk every day. They should count themselves lucky.

I hate being cold.

Today it's only -13, but the windchill makes it feel like -22.
I was up at 6:00 am, shivering in the snow in Nathan's pyjamas, shouting "JUST PEE ALREADY!" into the dark.
Oh, to have a fenced-in yard.

After work, I will don every article of clothing I own and take the dogs on a walk.
This activity is supposed to make us bond.
We're bonding all right.

Brown slush bonds to my grey dress pants.
Drool and dog hair bond to my coat.

Need I say more?

However, we three create quite a spectacle traipsing down the sidewalk together. I've noticed there are two ways people respond when approached by two large black canines:

Person #1:

Person #1: OMG! Are those your dogs?
Me:           Yes. (I wouldn't be walking them in -20 degree weather if they weren't.)
Person #1: They are SOOOO beautiful!
Me:           (Shivering slightly) Thank you.
Person #1: Can I pet them?
Me:           (Hopping from one foot to the other, trying to keep warm.) Yes.
Person #1: What are their names?
Me:           (Teeth chattering) The boy is Sam and the girl is Kia.
Person #1: Tia?
Me:           (Toes losing all feeling) No. Kia like the car.
Person #1: Oohhhhh. Did you name her after a car because she's so big?
Me:           No. (And if I did, why would I choose Kia? Why not Ford or Dodge or Chevy?)
             
The conversation continues until I politely extricate myself and hobble home to thaw my remaining limbs.
Or Sam tries to hug them.

If you meet me on the street, never hold out your arms and say "hugs" unless you want a 120 pound Newfie to launch himself enthusiastically into your arms. 

Nathan found that out the hard way. 

Person #2: Crosses to the other side of the street.

Seriously though, I love it when people love my dogs.
It validates a deep part of my soul.
I just love it more when it's warm outside.

In other news, other than doing my Wintergirls review, I'd like to spend some time brushing up on the art side of things.

I'll post pictures if anything turns out brilliantly.

If it's all garbage, I'll come back and erase the last two sentences and we can all pretend it never happened.

You didn't see anything... 

Until then, happy doodling!

PS - If you're feeling brave and want me to try a VERY quick sketch of you, your family, or your worst enemy, feel free to send me a photo via email - natelisa.robinson@gmail.com. No promises though! Sometimes I forget.

Day 17: Writing Workshop

I made it to the writing workshop on time ... despite losing the car keys.

I didn't bring a pen or a notebook. All I could find were a few gold Sharpies and some sheets of computer paper. For the record, gold Sharpies are completely useless.

I did bring two extension cords, an external hard drive, a flashlight, a fork, and lots of dog poo bags. 

Don't ask.

It was a snowy, slippery morning. There was at least one accident on the bridge.
The whole way there I prayed...

Please let this be the right church.

I always get Sunset Church and Smythe Street Cathedral mixed up.

I think it's because they both start with "S".

Side Note:

Once I almost missed a Matthew West concert because I tried to find Sunset Church on the GPS.

It never occurred to me that it might be located on Sunset Drive.
I DO know where that is. 

I was on a dirt road in the middle of the forest when it declared, "Turn left. Begin off-roading."

I seriously considered it. 

At that time, I had lived in Fredericton for almost twenty years. 

I pulled into Smythe Street Cathedral with my fingers crossed. But when I saw the middle-aged women scrambling out of their cars and flocking into the church with their overstuffed handbags, I knew I was in the right place.

I belonged. 

It's funny who you click with. Ninety percent of my friends are seniors. I wouldn't trade them for the world.

I never feel quite at home with people my own age. 
Most days I feel like an old woman in a young body.
I suppose that's better than the reverse...

Have you ever seen the McGyver episode where the beautiful young scientist shrivels up and dies of old age within a matter of minutes?

.....

At the workshop, every woman (and one brave man) was given a word for the year.

Mine was: ACCEPTANCE. 

We were told to compose a short piece about what our word meant to us. This is mine:

Acceptance means acknowledging and embracing where I am in my journey today. It means that I admit to my flaws and believe that I am still worthy of love.

I accept that the finish line may not be where I think it is. Or it may not be there at all. Or it may be there, but I will never reach it. Everyone has their own finish line.

Acceptance does not mean that I don't plan to change. I do. But acceptance is the beginning of growth. Without acceptance, I cannot move forward. 

We also had to write down our earliest memory. Apparently, I have always loved animals:

I remember chasing geckos. It was night. The streetlight cast an orange glow on the cement walls of the basketball court at the end of our street. Trucks rumbled in the distance. Palm trees rustled in the wind. We were safe in our own little corner of the big, dark world.  

My father held me in his arms. Slick black shapes raced up and down the cement as I tried to touch them. Catch them. Take them home to be my pets.

I always missed. But I was laughing.

The workshop was totally worth the thirty bucks. (The free lunch was pretty good, too.)

Back in the real world, I accomplished three things:

• I submitted my Joy FM design via email - well before the February 8 deadline!
• I submitted my 1000 Awesome Things paragraph - their website link was working.
• I rewrote the first part of of my picture book and submitted it to my proofreader - thanks, Mom!

I didn't write any more on my Plugged In review. 

I also have a review of Laurie Halse Anderson's Wintergirls due in ten days. 
I have tons of bills to pay ... I hate January!

And tomorrow just happens to be my favorite day of the week...

Monday.

Happy Monday, everyone! 

At least we can all be miserable together. 

Albert Einstein. 

Drawn during grade 12 pre-calculus. 

In pen. 

Do you really think I'd find a pencil in time for math class?

Day 15: Momentum

O momentum ... how easily I lose you. 

And momentum isn't the only thing I lose on a regular basis.

The following is an actual conversation between my husband and me:

Me: What habit do I have that you used to think was cute, but now it's just annoying?
Nate: Great. She doesn't hang me, she just hands me the noose.
Me: No really. I want to know. So long as it doesn't have anything to do with food.
Nate: Well ... I used to think it was cute that you lost stuff.

Right.

I lose everything.

Money. Debit Cards. Credit Cards. Keys. Travel Mugs. Cell Phones. Passports. Birth Certificates. Citizenship Cards. Glasses. Receipts. Library Books. Marriage Licenses. Well, only one of those!

Consider the following evidence:

I lost my car keys this summer. I never found them.
I lost my credit card too. I found it ... two weeks after I declared it lost or stolen.
I also lost a copy of The Lorax that we rented from Jumbo Video.
(I think I put it on the car roof and drove away. I'll probably find it in the spring.)

I now buy books from Chapters because it's cheaper than paying library fines for books I forgot to return. My last fine was over $50.

Ironically, I am now a librarian. 

I lost my husband's car keys while shopping for a new library book at Chapters.
Then my cell phone died (after I called my husband to tell him I was stranded at the mall).

Then I found the keys.

I would have called him back, but I couldn't ... because I lost the charger.
Needless to say, he wasn't impressed when he arrived home.

Sometimes I lose momentum because I lose things like pencils or computer cords.
Other times I lose momentum because I can't bring myself to finish something I know will never be perfect.

Whatever the reason, when I lose momentum on a project, I'm always tempted to call it quits. Tempted to hide it in a drawer and start again in a couple of months when the sting of failure isn't quite so fresh.

But not today.

While my internet voice has been silent, here are some baby steps I've taken:

• I created a design for the JoyFM logo contest that begins in February. It began as a one-day fling and morphed into a multi-day event. I was grateful for the input from friends and family - which dramatically improved the final product. I don't expect to win, but it was fun to think creatively again. It's also a great opportunity to display my artwork to the Fredericton community. Or at least it will be ... if I don't forget to submit it!

Original Design

Finished Product

• I registered for a creative writing workshop that's taking place at Smythe Street Cathedral tomorrow. It cost $30 including lunch. Woo hoo! Finally something within in my price range!

• I drafted a letter to Plugged In, proposing that I review movies for their site. To this end, I watched Ip Man on Netflix, took copious notes ... and am still working on the first paragraph of my sample review.

• I've continued to work on my picture book manuscript. You'd think it would be easy because it has so few words. Not so. I expect to finish just before my eightieth birthday. 

This is a picture of the last muffin. 

I found the camera just before Nathan ate it.

By Nathan, I really mean me.

I would post the recipe ...

but I lost it!

Mom: If you're reading this, don't worry. I'll find it again. I always do. 

Day 5: Muffins

Some mornings, my mom used to wake up early and bake pumpkin muffins that we could eat before school. They were almost too hot to touch, and each one greeted you with a symphony of steam and melted chocolate. It made any day special. Today I wanted to give my husband that fresh-from-the-oven, I-made-this-just-for-you feeling.

Ha. I am not my mother.

Muffin-making in the wee sma's takes a fair bit of planning. You have to know where the ingredients are. You need to have clean utensils like measuring spoons, mixing bowls, and muffin tins. A cleared, flat surface is desirable.

Ha. I am not my mother.

I did plan to ask my husband to take the dogs out for a pee in exchange for a muffin.
I did plan not to hit SNOOZE.
I did hit it only twice, but the second time I accidentally hit DISMISS instead of snooze and woke up 38 minutes after the alarm first went off.
I did know where the ingredients were ... last week.

I did plan to pack the dishwasher, but I forgot, and when I finally shuffled bleary-eyed into the kitchen my husband was eating cereal out of a cheese container and spreading peanut butter onto his sandwiches with the wrong end of a fork. Try finding measuring spoons in THAT.

When he was in the shower and I needed to wash the mixing bowl, I cried.
When he was still in the shower and I needed to wash the half-cup measure, I complained.
When he opened the dishwasher - effectively blocking all traffic to and from our tiny kitchen - I screeched, "YOU'RE PUSHING YOUR LUCK TODAY BUDDY!"

Screeched on the inside that is. On the outside it probably looked more like an panicky growl.

My husband left the house 29 minutes ago with a steaming hot muffin in a bowl. Stay tuned for the recipe.

And pictures of cold muffins because now I need to go to work.

Live, laugh, love ... and eat muffins!

Day 4: On Mondays

Things I love about Sundays:

• Sleeping late
• Making breakfast with my husband
• Attending a rockin' service at Crosspoint Wesleyan
• Eating home-cooked meals ... and by home, I really mean Mom
• Spending time with friends and family

Monday morning is a cold, cruel world. 

Every Monday without fail, I hit the snooze button so many times that my husband now laughs hysterically at any sentence that begins, "First I'll wake up ..." Of course, he could just be mocking my "Yuki the Yeti" hat.

But coffee makes the world go 'round.

Today at work I spent a beautiful six hours falling in love with picture books all over again. My favorite stories are the sad-but-happy ones. The girl with an autistic brother. The young couple with a Downs' toddler. The child who loses a grandparent.

Although Kelly DiPucchio's Zombie in Love made me giggle.

So much of life is loss. So much of writing is reading. So much of creating is seeing.
And feeling.
And living.

At least that's what I tell myself when I'm lying on the couch after supper watching Everybody Loves Raymond through half-closed eyelids.

In my defense, the cat did need a warm place to sleep.

The last two days haven't been a total write-off, though. Looking for other "1000" blogs, I stumbled across Neil Pasricha's 1000 Awesome Things, which you may know as the wildly popular Book of Awesome. He accepts submissions for publication on his blog and in future books. I submitted a short piece titled, "The Double Snow Day." I'll let you know if I hear back from him.

My editor and I also finalized my book review assignments for the next four months:

January: Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson
February: Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver
March: The Color Purple by Alice Walker
April: An Acquaintance with Darkness by Ann Rinaldi

I picked up Wintergirls at Chapters today - a story about a girl struggling with anorexia - and I look forward to reading and reviewing all of these books in the months to come.

Enjoy your journey!

An old sketch of my husband ca. 2007. True love ... takes A LOT of work.

But worth it.

How can you not love someone who gets dressed in the dark every Monday?

Day 2: Game Plan

You can't just wake up and decide to write a book.

Unless something really, really, really unusual happens to you.
Or you're a lifelong reader.

If you want to be a writer but you HATE reading, complete the following steps (in order):

• Quit your day job.
• Buy a sailboat.
• Spend your (few) remaining days globe-trotting. If you're lucky, a publisher might find you before the sharks do. Or the Brobdingnagians.

Don't laugh. They exist. Just ask Jack Black.

Nothing unusual has ever happened to me (unless you count getting bit by a squirrel, which was a harrowing experience I'd rather not discuss with anyone over the age of accountability). However, I LOVE to read. And write. Although my family didn't always own a TV, I can't remember a time before books.

But I can't just write a book. I need practice. Experience (preferably paid). Real-life opportunities to hone my craft.

Enter Focus on the Family.

Focus on the Family offers some great opportunities for Christian writers to practice their skills, gain experience, and collect a paycheck. Check out the links below for submission guidelines to three of their magazines:

Clubhouse Magazine
Clubhouse Jr. Magazine
Thriving Family Magazine

I began writing book reviews for Thriving Family last year. As a Christian school teacher, I regularly used Thriving Family Book Reviews to see if a book was appropriate before recommending it to my middle school students. For those of you who aren't familiar with Thriving Family, this service is similar to FOTF's PluggedIn.

When some of the books I used in class weren't reviewed online, I sent an unsolicited review to Thriving Family. To my delight, it was accepted and posted. Now I am assigned reviews on a monthly basis. I love writing them. Receiving a check in the mail every few months is just a bonus.

I would say it helps with the groceries, but I used December's check to adopt a second Newfoundland dog. Now I have a boy and a girl. Neither are fixed (yet). Not sure what I was thinking there...

Today I took another step towards publication: I signed up for Focus on the Family's Clubhouse and Clubhouse Jr magazines. Each 12-issue subscription cost $19.99. After tax, I spent less than the cost of a full tank of gas (unless you own a scooter). But having access to these magazines means that I will be able tailor my submissions to their audience and have a higher chance of getting published.


I do have two long-term projects on the go: a picture book and a YA novel. I'd be happy if either was published by the end of the 1000 days.

Until tomorrow or whenever I write next ... live life to the fullest! Unless it's cold. Then you should curl up on the couch with a good book and a cup of hot chocolate. And a cinnamon roll (if you're lucky).


My Thriving Family Book Reviews:

Eyes of the Dragon

Hatchet

Iqbal: A Novel

Kane Chronicles: The Red Pyramid

Kane Chronicles: Throne of Fire

Michael Vey: The Prisoner of Cell 25

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

My Sister's Keeper
Number the Stars

Our two Newfies, Sam & Kia.
Don't be fooled by their cuteness. Sam snores something awful.

Welcome to Day 1

A journey of 1000 days begins ... tomorrow.

Why tomorrow? Today is not exactly an auspicious beginning. It is well past eleven o'clock in the morning. My house is a mess. I have barely showered and am still in my jammies. I've eaten first breakfast ... and second breakfast. My laptop keys are sticky with drool (the dog's - not mine).

Excuses.

Bilbo Baggins also woke late on the morning of his great adventure. If he'd waited until tomorrow, it would have been too late. There would be no Hobbit, no Lord of the Rings, no Middle Earth. Peter Jackson would be a nobody film director whose best movies were The Lovely Bones and District 9 (which was waayyy too creepy for me).

And so my adventure begins today. January 4th 2012. One thousand days from now, it will be Thursday, October 1st, 2015 - assuming http://www.convertunits.com/dates/daysfromnow/1000 is correct (which I doubt, but I have better things to do than count 1000 days ahead on Windows Calendar).

I don't expect to be there and back again by 2015. But on my journey to the Lonely Mountain, I want to have faced and fought trolls, giants, orks, goblins, and wargs. And Gollum, of course. My precioussss...

Here are my professional goals:

• Have at least one published book on the market
• Be a locally-recognized artist
• Earn a living wage from my creative work

My personal goals are more fluid, but include investing in my marriage, living healthier and happier, and renovating our basement apartment. 

Today is Day 1. Join me. I'd love help packing the dishwasher.

(BTW: Don't actually come. I have to clean my house first.)

A pencil drawing of my husband Nate. (He's the one in the sweater.) I drew this during March Break 2012, and it turned out so well I've been terrified to draw anything since.