Thursday, November 21, 2019

the magpie poem

This is the poem in an old notebook that began my thinking on the words that would become my book, Time in December.  Buy it for 99 cents on Amazon for Kindle

It was an automatic poetry poem.. but in it lie a lot of the seeds of the original story.  The first few chapters of the book are handwritten in the next few pages... and four years later, it would become a self-published novel.

The Magpie and the Ship of Dreams (12/25/2015 Marie Lamb)

The sweet sordid magpie pennywise and pound foolish
soft as summer snow and rain on the highlands...she flies.

We looked for our sunrise in the leaves of the trees,
the maples in the woods, the blackberry thorns
in the thicket under umbrellas of gray cloud
and spears of clear light

It came to us, gradually, step by step
along the leafborne wind,
casting every pebble out of its way
along the path from the rocky shore
And we awaited it in boats of leaves and twigs,
of twine and parchment
of dreams and the time in between the moments of our lives.

For today we would sail
And tonight we would see the other side of the stars
behind our eyes, heads tilted together
upon the wood upon waves, hearts blessed in their close vicinity.

Wednesday, November 20, 2019

ive been out to the woods

I’ve been out to the woods
and I’ve come back in
with leaves in my hair and thorns clinging
to my legs and shoes and
small lines of red scratched down my arms
where the thorns tried to find purchase
but instead found skin
so easily torn away and not caught
they could not hold me there
and instead, must let me walk on
but it was worth it
I have seen wonders
and joys within them

and our chickens, who were very very insistent

Tuesday, November 19, 2019

bits and pieces

I delivered everything to my job, but they have had to postpone it until some major repairs get done.. so not sure if I will get an 'after' picture anytime soon.  Jumped down out of the truck and jarred a knee but it only hurts going down the first stair and that last one (because it is out of canter with the rest)... should be worse tomorrow maybe for a minute and then start to get better.  Going to talk about more install information tomorrow and thursday.

working more on the sketchbook, Mark says if the house started on fire he would have to drag the chair out with me in it because I wouldn't look up.

Submitted a bit more poetry this morning.. stuff I had actually written THIS morning and one yesterday in the sketchbook.  Early mornings are good productive time.

Was contacted by a contest and said that I won for a short story - they will let me know tomorrow if the local animal shelter is eligible for the donation prize.  I surely hope it will be.  The story was about a dog.

Monday, November 18, 2019


 I am working on my Brooklyn Art Project sketchbook.
  'Have You Come (in or out) To See Me Dear?'
It is due in February

Sunday, November 17, 2019


I spent a bit of yesterday organizing my next book, and it currently has twelve short works and about twelve more that I have not finished.  I took a look at a couple of those unfinished, and ran a bit longer on one of them.

I'm trying to read the book I promsied to review - but at the moment it is talking about crisis and development of plot towards the character's ultimate goal.  It is a book on writing stories.  However every time I get a little further in it I am split into one of two categories 1.) I'm still writing my own real life story and is it turning out well and 2.) I should work a bit more on one of those aforementioned twelve.  So between those two, I only got another 10% or so through that book.

Mark returned the malfunctioning heater and bought another one, that seems to work.  We are planning on making his office in the old data center, so he can get quiet time away from everything when he needs it.  I don't need 'quiet time'.. as much as I need to just keep at the same things.

I did start the first few pages of my brooklyn art project book today.  It had sat there for almost a week with nothing... and I ended up putting a bit of a creepy Alice in Wonderland poem on the second page... we'll see where the rest of the book takes me.

Friday, November 15, 2019


little bits of poetry flowing through my head today caught them and didn't let them get away as they usually do.

this morning as the sun began to come in and I was making calls :

I am keeping time so slowly now
it roars at my ears
like waves in the tides of lunar shores
 that pearl, reflective gem hiding
pale against the blue of morning
far away, far above
ricocheting separate, yet bound
around this same sun by which I keep my hours

and while driving

Sleep winds me bout
like a dragon, drinking holes in my blood
I dare not fear for I'll fall into them
and drown

Thursday, November 14, 2019

In the Grove (c) 2019 Marie Lamb

Another preview from the short story book I am working on.
This is a myth retold, after a prompt asked to take a piece of music and reinvent a story for it.
I wrote this to the music playing of 'Masks' from Romeo and Juliet, Sergei Prokofiev

In the Grove © 2019 Marie Lamb

In the grove there is a tree
where Eternal Summer waits for I
beneath her branches love awaits
desire burns brightly in her eyes

And down, down, below the earth
a hunger greater lurks and spies
to feed upon my bones, my blood
where none nearby can hear my cries.

It is a fine spring day, warming into summer. I have begun walking along the path, from the places I know well, to those that are more in the secrets of the Wild. There is a sweet girl waiting for me in the Valley, and I will take her to the Fair in Bethel. I am dressed in my finest, with a strong dagger at my side and a few coins in my pocket. I have confidence that today will be warm and bright, with no chance of a summer storm.

My step is light and even a bit joyful, the road fairly easy with lots of interesting things to pass by in the woods beside me. There is a bright green to the trees and the shafts of sunlight coming through the leaves is warm upon me. I feel almost like I could take a little spin here and there, but my grandfather’s words remind me: " Perhaps should be looking more at the woods around me than my feet, fine though the boots may be."

And then, I realize why.
But perhaps, I should not have listened to grandfather.
Perhaps I would have passed her by with my boyish glee.
But now, I see her, a forest sprite, one hand on the tree a few yards in front of me. She is the very picture of beauty, freshfaced and wearing only a shift of shimmering gossamer. She is toying with a vine, long wispy grasses playing about her legs while the air remains still and balmy. I can not take my eyes away, she is so striking.

Her hair is nearly green. I know she is no village child or girl lost or hunting mushrooms. As I stop she leans forward, peering towards me, beckoning. As I approach, she swirls around the back of the tree, looking at me, peeking and then returning to the other side. Her voice is like bells, and she seems to know my name, although I have not given it to her. She is playful as a young forest creature.  I am delighted and entranced.  But, I worry about what teeth or sorcery might be revealed in the shadows. I think about Rosalie, waiting for me.  Still, there is this quality to this sprite that I cannot look away.  I am drawn as a moth to a flame.

As I near to her hand, stretched out to me in welcome, I feel the forest warm even further and the wind that was only for her has come to dance about my neck. I am taken with her, with the motion of the world, and the spiralling nature of Time itself. I touch her hand and feel warmth and taste honey.  Her skin is so unnaturally soft.  Her tongue curls around perfectly white teeth, pointy and numerous.  She seethes my name and lovely words, encircling me with her arms, whispering poetry into my ears. I suddenly feel I want to stay here forever, and a day, and the next after that. It would be Eternal Summer.

I can feel that I am falling, and in all of the warmth there is a tiny stab of ice. It has entered through my skin and pricked the heart within. Something deep inside me screams that danger has many faces. A pain cracks deep in my heart that seems to fill with sand and weigh me down like a thousand burdens. I struggle to stay upright, to see her face, to reach for her as I am falling. And then, the tree is my blanket, and the ground my bed. I am wrapped in it, secure and blissful. The hand of the nymph passes over my forehead, as my mother’s once did when I was abed with fever as a child. The colors are beautiful. The music is swirling, marching, slowly and in time. I am drifting. I am asleep for the ages, another grave for the grove, unmarked and unremembered.

I will hear the calls of my searchers through muffled ears, unopening eyes, and never answer.

My last thought before the sleep becomes solid and unyielding It was going to be such a nice warm day, if I had ever made it to the Valley.

the amazing

I admit sometimes my brain is still ruminating on the days just before I had 'enough' and said I was done with (L)... it is in my nature to wonder what I could have done differently and 'saved' it all.. but then I flip the switch over and say 'well, what amazing has happened since then?'

I am helping fewer people even more by doing full jobs and helping as many of the pieces fall into place as I can.  I can offer them more solutions and take a stronger stance in helping them get something that will be good for them.

I am learning how MUCH tile is out there (without having to pick up hundreds of pounds of it daily) and forming a catalog in my 'mental warehouse' of all that is available, possible, etc.  I'm learning how to lay it, what materials are needed.. all while talking to many professionals about their methods and what they need to do the job.

Socially - oh boy... I am still an introvert.  But, I'm an introvert who will stretch out to accomplish things and make connections so I can help people.  I've done so much more of this that I have to stop sometimes and take a deep breath and say 'you talked to a LOT of people today, but each one needed something you could give or had something to teach you etc.. it's give and receive, connect and help.'  It's a zen thing.  And that helps me center back and say okay, what next.

I was told that was a lot like my dad, too - he was quiet and in the corner until someone needed something he could do or something he knew, or he needed to talk to people to find out what he needed to help someone.  He was an overthinker, an overplanner, but that helped him in many situations because then he could conquer the problem no one else had thought about.  He was authentic, and didn't make promises on things that he didn't have enough information about until he had went and did the footwork.. and I hope I can keep those lessons in my heart as I continue.


I went to the dentist on Tuesday and they took out another exposed-nerve tooth, and instantly, that side does not hurt now even half as much as the other side, which also needs care.  It's like I was walking around with a knife stuck in there all the time and now there is only one in the other side.  I still have to watch it for infection, but the constant nerve jab is gone.

I've also finally been able to start taking care of my teeth (another joyful side effect of EDS, loose connective tissue in the gums, increased chances of infection, teeth are easily broken and jaw-clenching TMJ is usually present putting stress on loose teeth = wonderful dental issues!)  - although slowly.  After being told that 'it sucks to be me' and having to fight and beg for a dentist appointment, after being told I was going to need serious surgery and other work because 'I hadn't been in often enough for maintenance'... that was really confidence-bashing and added to my anxiety.

Then add the several people who see me go through high fevers and visibly swollen jaw who tell me I'm not realizing how quickly that can turn into a blood or brain infection and how can I possibly not go take care of this right now etc... balanced on the hand of 'if you're gone more than 6 times a year you can be written up and then fired'... I was in such a rock and a hard place but it was only my own health on the line - and for some reason, I let that go so far it almost did kill me.  But... I'm trying to do better on that now, because I need to be here to help my family, and I can't take risks like that for some company that doesn't value me properly.  I can do my teeth a little bit by little bit now, and make and keep an appointment without having to grovel to someone for it.. and take control of my health. 


I have noticed myself sitting 'the bad ways' again and again and am consciously reminding myself - by writing this here! - to stop it!  Do not sit with your ankle bones entirely on the floor.  Do not sit on the edge of the chair with your feet inside the barstool rails and your knees pointed down while you read (although that is comfortable, until it isn't.. )   And the hardest one - don't sit with your entire body askew and your head on your hand with your ribcage out of whack, because it is going to come back and bite.  Sit straight, feet on the floor, knees supported by desk if possible or locked together.  Because knees and hips will thank you for it later... or the opposite, your choice.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

2:45 sunlight

There was just this 'quality' to the light at 2:45 today I had to stop and try to capture it.


I have this list of stuff that doesn't have to be done today, so I am doing what was suggested and making a to-do list for 'the week'... where I can spread it out over three days and still feel like I can get it done.  and I can group different places together

I want to remind myself to write about grandpa's little shed house he built it when I was quite small to match his house and how it got moved out to the old farm where I used it as a writing and play shed for years...  during the time he was building it was when he let Robbie and I build airplanes out of the scraps, and he helped me nail together a little toy that I was very proud of, and hardly scoffed when I had to name her. (planes are girls, right?) 

automatic poetry

Between the ages of 9 and 14 I lived at times in the old house of my stepfather, far from town, with very little electricity and the heat from the barrel stove.  We didn't live there all the time, but there were cold days and summer days and pumping water by hand and searing our mittens on the stove while being yelled at that they would burn.  I remember those times, and tried to put some of it into words here.. started out as automatic writing, and then suddenly, I was going there, as if an adult, alone.. even though the house no longer exists.  It is there only in my memories.

((retracted for possible submission))

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

automatic writing poetry

The little writing group has had several 'automatic' writing prompts. I sat down tonight and tried this off a thought that has been bouncing in my head since sunrise.

Chipping Sparrows
(c) 2019 Marie Lamb

Dozens of little brown birds,
striped heads, black eyebrows
and white chins.

In the dim but increasing light,
they have their own camouflage,
they are almost indistinguishable
from the leaves and rocks strewn in the drive,
until they move,
bustle, dart and peck.

Then they are a spectacle.
My grandfather used to call them chipping sparrows.
They are always busy, chipping away at things.
Out my window I see them
in the snow that fell last night.
They leave a multitude of little arrow shaped footprints. 
 Hopping about, always watchful.
They are aware of the seed and wary of the cat.

Monday, November 11, 2019


in response to this link:   some words to live by

I am trying really hard to overcome - to be confident and have faith - because I have solid skills that I am proud of and that help people.  That is what I'm moving forward with.  To do good, and provide help and take care of my family.  And also to not be afraid to do the things and 'get out' the creative energies that I keep bottled up that will die with me if I don't put them out in the world.  That is all we have, our integrity, our families and our legacy, where we touch others even when we are gone.

this one too : Giving yourself Permission
"How do you decide that the person you are inside—the real you, the person underneath all the expectations and comparisons and measuring up and fitting in—is allowed to show up in your life?  "

Sunday, November 10, 2019

almost winter

Turned off the hydrant, got the chickens ready for the hard freeze tonight

 Daphne dog had to come to the garden with me and roll around in the grass 
when I was sitting in my chair.

and the lambs ear is still there poking up through the ground here and there, although there are some tiny brown grasshoppers that are likely the cause of the holes in the leaves

Saturday, November 09, 2019

bit o office

I have some more work to do on this design today and tomorrow.  Have a consultation meeting with a contractor this afternoon, two actually - but one is a phone consult.  And then I have a dishwasher air gap project that needs to be done, got all the materials for that last night, and the bigger toolbox.

I still need to price out sealers and grout maximizer, as well as shop for a light to match the fixtures and grab another tile sample in between the two I have.  

I am hoping the customer likes the one on the left, because their trim is already gray, and it will coordinate better, yet keep the warm feeling and go with the top really well.  I really like the one on the right though, it is so warm and looks a lot like what they already have down (vinyl), so it might look okay with the trim too, once it is there against it.

I found a bulletin board we weren't using and a filebox and put those in my office, too - and spent about an hour rearranging and organizing papers so everything works better for me. 

Friday, November 08, 2019


Thursday was big, and we did get the disposal done.  My friend helped hold it up for the hardest part of the muscle work, and I was very grateful to have him there.  I hung out in town in the cold of the weather and scored some one dollar dress shirts of the same kind I have been wearing for all of the plumbing, shop visits and design stuff.  It was a really good find.  I did a measure and there was SO much to do all in that one hour and I wanted to make sure I had all the info.  I'm working hard on that one, too - but I have to be ready for this meeting tomorrow with the tile shower.  I've packed my bag for it.

The big vanity top is coming on Tuesday.  The rest of the tile will be here the week after that.  We're really moving along.

I also bought a toolbox four times bigger than the one I was working with, and the two tools that my friend had asked for but I had been using other things in their place.. well, now I have those, too. 

I need to do a dishwasher air gap repair and also am still planning on doing the toilet, if they're ready soon.  I have a lot of drawing to do on this other job but want to wait until after the tile shower meeting so I can focus entirely on it.

The sun fell down (c) Marie Lamb 2019

Another little writing prompt from a different place.  I let it 'run'.. see what comes out, come back to look at it again later. // I didn't mean to write it this way.. but it's all true.  That day I missed a call from my aunt three times in a row and that never happens == and I was scared.. and I was on my way to the garden to sit down and call her and then my dad called.. and it was really him, and he had just fallen, and he tried to tell me it wasn't really bad, that he had just been clumsy, ... we had a good talk.. and I can't even really remember what about.. this and that... that was august the 7th it was in my call log. I remember that.. because my aunt was calling to try to make sure she could stop and visit with us when she came august 21st. on her way down to visit him because he wasn't eating well and she and my uncle, his younger brother, were going down there to see what they could do.   Anyway, the poem ended up being about that.. and it is too heartbreaking, and I'm just leaving it here for now

The Sun Fell Down
(c) Marie Lamb 2019

The sun fell down around us while I had my eyes on the sky.
The light went out.  I was not expecting it.
Darkness crept in around the edges, pink and gray
then the last bit of chalk dust was blown out and black settled in.

I lay there resting against the back of the green chair,
lost, until the calls of the night birds
became louder than my thoughts.
The brilliance of the stars attacked my eyes, far from the city lights.

But I know that what I am lacking is that sense of you.
That your thoughts are near to mine,
in tandem, across space, as they often were.
These stars have always been far away, but not always with you.

I took a moment more to drink in the light,
before rising slowly in the darkness,
and pushing my way across the stones towards the lively house,
away from the garden dead with frost, but sown with memories.

The air, for a time, was brighter there,
in the green chair that now reminds me of you.
It was where laughter and noise and motion still clung
like drops to a window after the rain.

It was where I sat when the fear gripped my throat,
to think that the bad news had finally come.
But it had not, not then, and when it did,
it wasn't in your own voice.

I had been so relieved that day, to hear your voice,
and to hear you laugh, and tell me it wasn't too bad.
And of course, I knew it wasn't true.
The fear told me what I did not want to hear.

The head can be too good at ignoring the heart.
We both brushed it away between us,
and listened a little harder.
Because we knew there were things that were not said.

I do not want to sit here in the dark,
with my own thoughts, unforgiving in their viciousness.
They wake me in the night and ask me what else could be done.
They wait for me with the sunrise and be sure I know it was nothing.

It is equal parts, release and revival,
of the shades of the night and the memories of other days.

Some days we strive to forget, and some nights we struggle to remember.
Days of light and nights of stars,

All I can do is remind myself that stars are light, too.
That we, are light, too.  Burning.

Thursday, November 07, 2019


Today will be a busy Thursday, and it is raining.  I have to load a lot of things in the car and get ready to go do a garbage disposal install and after that, a measure. 

I realized I was sitting the exact 'bad' way in my chair that all of the articles say 'no one should sit like this'.  I hardly ever realize it, but the picture I saw of the girl sitting on the couch with a big 'No' symbol over her popped up in my mind.  I sit with my knees to one side,and usually the 'underneath' leg has the ankle pressed all the way to the floor, with the foot completely sideways.  I know other people's ankles don't DO that.. so why is it 'comfortable' and I end up sitting that way when I read? 

There was something I was showing Esme I was trying to draw  - a position of  high kick that was 'too hard' for most people, they just can't do that with their leg without pain.   Esme was noting that her right side is flexible, but not her left, and she wondered if the directionality mattered.

For me, it's the opposite.  It's almost always the left ankle that is 'broken-looking', and my left hand is the one with the most overflexibility.. too -- but I also find it odd that it is my right shoulder with the hypermobile problem.  I think actually, my left would have been the same or more except that I dislocated it in Tae Kwon Do when I was sixteen.   It didn't heal back right - it required months of physical therapy.  I was working as a janitor after school at that time and even trying to vacuum the carpets was excruciating.   So, I think that shoulder actually 'stays in place' because well.. it's not in its natural state after having nerve and tissue damage.

Wednesday, November 06, 2019

Preview from the House of Sunlight book, (c) Marie Lamb

'Susan', short story by Marie Lamb (c) 2019

The sun is rising where it once set. I look at it only out of the corner of my eye. It is not the only thing today that has gone wrong. I saw a frog swallowed today, not by a snake or a bird, but by a flower with honey-sweet petals and no visible sign of malice. The water from the rock wall crept upwards through the cracks, and wandered back down the other side. I did not have time to examine it all. It was all so strange. But, most of all, most of all, Susan woke up.

And that was the only good thing that has happened all day.

All these few hours of it, so far.
It was barely after midnight.
The clock had begun ringing out the bells
I was still holding the bloody rag.
The one from the coughing that wracked her frail body.
The one she dropped to the floor, and I brought it back.
For some reason, I had not been able to accept the silence.
And then it was silent no more.

I sit here in awe of it.
And in fear of it.
And she looks at me.

I think it will take a little while, as it did before, the other way.
And then I will have to decide how to feel about it.
I will have to decide what to do with her, with me, with everything.

I took a walk through the garden, and it was brutal.
If we are living in the Unknown, so be it.
I came back, and still, she looks at me, beseechingly.

I know nothing, can say nothing, and am only quite small.
Maybe someone else will come through our doors before long.
If there was anyone left at all, and how will we know?

How long could it take, and what rules is Nature playing by
now that she has thrown her book out the window?

Perhaps, I only need to wait a little longer..

I curl up at her side and slowly, with one thin finger, she strokes my ears. Perhaps I have dreamed it all. The Death did not come in the night as I had imagined. Everything will be all right. The sun will reach it’s noon point and Susan will rise from her bed and begin to make tea. I think about the cakes, and they taste like frogs. I think about the frogs and they taste like chicken bits.

I think I’ll go have another turn around the garden.
And hope there are not any birds large enough to swallow me.

Tuesday, November 05, 2019

Out near McKenzie, Tennessee

I love the little flower shape that showed up in the tree leaves to the left.  The light was nice.  This tree was next to a little church that had light shining down on it from above, and a field of frozen volunteer corn stalks that had laid down in bell shaped heaps throughout the field.
 I will post a drawing I've made in a day or so.  This little church's roof shape made me think of what I want to see on the cover of my short story collection book.... it's not a 1:1 comparison, but it got me thinking.

This reminded me of the flower fairy ladies in Fantasia, when they swirl around and bend down so only their skirts show.

That was my first attempt at the House of Sunlight cover image... and then I went out and took more house pictures of places that evoked the right 'feel' for me.. and I will need to take another stab at making it again.  However, oddly, the front porch on this one and the front porch on the first actual house I thought of both have the same gingerbread. 

Monday, November 04, 2019


I know I've posted this in little bits over the years, but I was feeling it this morning.  And, I promised not to embarrass her online, which I am taking to mean Facebook.

But this isn't embarrassing.  This is gratitude.

There almost wasn't an Esme.  And we wanted her, very badly.
It was March of 2007, and Mark and I had been together for a few months.  We had decided we definitely wanted to be parents.  We had been thinking about it all that time, and we were really certain.  I was really underweight, from issues with my previous marriage, and had really low blood pressure that led to dizzy spells that were off and on all my life.  We went to the doctor to find out what I would need to do be healthy enough for a pregnancy.  And they did bloodwork and other tests, and came to tell us the results.

I remember the doctor had a funny look on his face when he came back in the room.  He asked us if we were certain we wanted to be parents, and if we could work through things health-wise to be there.  We said yes.  And I remember he looked at us with a relieved expression, and the nurses leaned in the doorway at the same time, and he said 'Because, you're already pregnant.  Only a month, give or take a week.'  And we were happy, confused, and a little worried!

AND WE WAITED.... and there were complications

They scheduled me for an ultrasound, and we went home.  We didn't tell Mark's parents yet.. but they told us later that we looked like the cat that ate the canary, and they knew something was up.  At the ultrasound a few weeks later though, they gave me some semi-bad news.  The embryo had implanted really far down in the uterine wall, in an 'odd' place, and was not attached well, and there might be problems, especially if she continued to grow there.   Of course, it was much too early to tell 'she', but I'm going to use that anyway, because it was Esme.

A few weeks after that I had unexplained bleeding.  That was a bad sign.  I was trying to do everything right, but they said I had to take it even more easy - because of how she was attached, or we might lose her.  Another ultrasound was planned for twelve weeks.. and they said they'd know for sure by then if she was going to be 'viable' or we'd have to try again.  I was pretty worried and didn't really know what to do.  Mark tried to help me the best he could.  It was out of our hands, and we had our hopes and our doubts.  I know I made a lot of art at this time, and we were doing work for his parents, programming and such.  We stuck together and waited until the ultrasound date.  The bleeding went away, and that was a better sign.  Sometimes, that just happens, they said.

The twelve week ultrasound was both good and bad.  She was in the same position, which meant she was going to be attached there for the duration.  But, she was firmly attached.  No more bleeding, no more worry that she would suddenly miscarry that way.  They scheduled the next ultrasound, the one where they tell you the gender.  We told Mark's parents finally.  They were going to have a grandchild.  We actually started planning to be parents, and asking each other about names and so forth.  Mark suggested Galadriel and Calliope for girls, and he wanted Nikola Tesla for a boy.  I vetoed Galadriel and Calliope, and we decided on Esmerelda, from the Terry Pratchett character Esmerelda Weatherwax.

AND WE WAITED.... with hope

At five months the ultrasound said we were having a girl.  Everything was fine except the way she was growing, which was sideways head to one side and feet to the other.  They said it wouldn't matter for a few more weeks because she had so much room in there, but it would begin to matter more if she didn't turn by seven months.  We went to Hamvention in Ohio.  I felt her kick while we were on the way there, like a butterfly dragging wings down the side of my stomach.   I remember that moment as cruising in a van, at 65mph on the Interstate, with Mark driving and Zeppelin playing on the speakers.   Over the next few weeks she would kick hard and press her hands against my stomach so firmly we could see them - and she loved to hear Mark laugh.  I could feel a physical bouncing rolling response from her when he laughed.

AND WE WAITED, but it was a good time....

She hated tea (so hard in the South!) and burned meat or toast etc.  Those were the only two things that made me nauseous during the entire pregnancy.  There was once she made me drink an entire gallon of orange juice in a single day.  I hate orange juice.  I drank gallons of milk, too, and craved strawberries and fresh, not cooked tomatoes.

It all went pretty smoothly from there, normal fears and such.  I gained a lot of water and they were a bit worried about that, and stresses on the heart etc.  They were worried about transept and c-section right up until two weeks before her due date.

I was sitting in the middle of our bed knitting something for her and suddenly it felt like someone had grabbed my very core of my stomach and was wrenching it.  I sat up as completely straight as I could, standing on my knees (which is hard when you're nine months pregnant and full of water) and it felt like an alien was at war with my stomach.  She turned at that point, they told me later.  She was head down and the worry of c-section had diminished dramatically.

IT LOOKED ALL GOOD .. finally!

They didn't know if she was going to arrive early, before her due date, or late, being a first baby.  I was given a wide range, two weeks of possible birthdays, and to just 'watch for the signs.'  I was FULL of water, and a bit cranky, according to Mark!

A few days before she was born we went to a Zale's jewelry store to ask them about resizing my ring, and to buy Mark a better ring.  There was a very old lady behind the counter, and she had advice for me.  She said to go home and have Mark cook up a very big kettle of spaghetti.  I was to sit down and eat as much of it as I could stand.  She said the baby would arrive within the week.  She did, and today is her birthday.

We were pretty lucky, but I was definitely feeling this today.  She's twelve!  And she is wonderful.  And we are so lucky and proud to have our lovely girl.

Sunday, November 03, 2019

A Little bit today

Working hard on my business, today is a very 'full plate', which is odd because it all ended up being on a Sunday.  But, that means I can update on Monday, so.. good, yes?

Checking over my to-do lists, and checking my bag and my presentation for today.
Wondering if either of the library books I haven't touched are actually any good.. one of them is on renewal and I still haven't been interested in it enough to crack it.  But I truly think it is a reflection of my mood and of finishing 'The Last Lecture', which is the kind of book I digest for a few days, seeing where the life lessons come up as I move forward.

Took Esme and friends out to movie and pizza yesterday.  It wasn't rollicking, but I think everyone had a fairly good time.  I was glad we got to get together.

Now going to try to tackle a faucet, and hope that leaves me enough time to get cleaned back up and go out to my presentation.  I might say I'll drop by the faucet project after the present, because you never know what you'll get into once you start... and I'm not doing anything tomorrow yet.

Friday, November 01, 2019

Inktober November first

I missed Inktober.  But day one was supposed to be 'ring'.. did this little sketch to put on a forum board.  The ink is actually pale metallic blue.  It has something chemistry or biology going on... when I thought ring I thought cells and orbits and bonds.