Thanksgiving

My younger daughter brought her family up.  Simply going to post some pictures.  It was, of course, a wonderful day with my baby and the gbabies. 💖

My youngest:  Nisi

CC and her great great grandmother's quilt

            CC and Sy

In this house, we eat dessert first.  Seen here. 💖😁

Thankful for family.  Always.

Sending love to you and yours.

Crystal*

Broke 40,000 words

Two o'clock on a cool Tuesday afternoon.  Sitting at 40,069 words on Canary:  DD.  Still writing, of course, but I love the little numerical milestones.  🥳

Puts me around halfway with this book.  It's funny because there is SO MUCH going on here.  And the third book is even more packed with unraveling Ray's story (Mercenary Girl).  Lineage matters so much in this trilogy.  Family.  Hope.  Sacrifice.  So many damn secrets.  Not going to see those coming, dear readers.  You may catch the hints, though.  I've woven them through.  I spend a great deal of time laughing and crying with my characters.  Sometimes happy endings don't look like you think they should.

Always writing*

Routine and the wild hair.

I'm a study of contrasts.  

I love to have my holidays the same.  All my babies and gbabies come up and there's laughter and food and frivolity.  It's exhausting and beautiful.  Thanksgiving and Christmas will be different this year.  Oldest moved out of state about a week ago.  Middle will not be coming up with her two daughters.  But Baby Child will with J and their three babies.  That'll be my grandson and two granddaughters.  I am excited!  But it's going to be a lot different.  I like to cook for an army for the holidays.  I'm scaling that down.  Still not sure how that looks right now.

I have a routine with my writing.  The only time that changes is for appointments or the Honey having her knee replacement and whatnot.  But it's usually waking up.  Taking meds.  Breakfast.  Monster or smoothie.  Writing.  Except I don't know if Mercury is doing the cha-cha or fucking what.  Because suddenly my phone is going off and weird shit is going on.  I start typing and something happens.  I am completely unamused.  I'm in the flow, and then my focus is broken.  It's not pretty.

But the other part of me?  I want at least one more tattoo, preferably two, before the end of the year.  I want a mani/pedi.  I am NOT a mani/pedi girl.  But I want black polish.  I want to shop for clothes and be frivolous.  I want to wear make-up (I have no idea how).  I want to blast music and scream and go out in the woods and howl.  I want to do weird and crazy shit that makes people uncomfortable.  That's my wild hair.  I love her.  

It's part of why I love writing so much.  My characters can literally do anything.  Do I live vicariously?  Sometimes.  How can I not?  Because when I'm away from my computer and picture the scenes, it's a movie.  I'm there.  I love the characters.  I live the characters.

I'll continue to be a big bundle of chaos.  Keeps things lively.  Keeps me sane.  But I'll post pictures when I get my new ink.  🥳 😁💖 

Always writing*

Ray says "Hi!"

Oh. Damn it.

Writing.  ALL DAY.  🥳

I've made notes of scenes I need to add.  I've no other priorities today.  All about the writing which is utter bliss.  I open Canary 2:  DD.  Reading.  Editing.  Adding things in.  Look at my newer additions.  Reading.  Scroll.  😶

What?  I didn't write anymore?  😂  Oh my goodness!  That's the worst.  Seriously.  Nothing so annoying as in the flow of the story, reading your own words, nodding along, and suddenly you realize you haven't written more words.  

Cracking myself up.  I shall be hoping for around 4000-5000 words today.  Considering my start time, I believe I should be able to hit my goal.  It's one of those times you wish you could simply transfer items in your Mind Cabin to the page.  But tapping it out gives me time to work things out, and I enjoy doing that.  It's a nice balance.

Still laughing at myself.

Have a lovely Sunday!

Always writing*

Nurse Ratched

The Honey had left knee replacement surgery Monday.  I've been existing on snickers and green Monsters.  Now, I had my right hip replaced last March so I knew a bit about what to expect.  By the way, I love my hip, Dr. K., and my PT chickie who I described as an evil Kristen Bell.  But I digress.

It is NOT easy.  We are independent women.  I had the dubious honor of basically cramming my love and help down her throat.  😂  And she doesn't want to BOTHER anyone.  In pain and didn't want to call the nurse.  Oh, so help me.  I nearly beat her with her pillow.  I think we've overcome that hurdle.  Or not taking a pain pill fifteen minutes earlier while she's practically writhing in pain.  Once again, I had to threaten bodily harm.  😑  But we're making progress!

Both of us.  I made myself eggs for breakfast! 🥳

My problem is I tend to neglect myself while caring for others.  I lived off rice krispie treats when my baby child had her baby child last September. 😶 We all have our things.  🙄

The Honey has taken to calling me Nurse Ratched, and I laugh.  I promised to live up to the name if she doesn't behave.  Better get used to me and my methods now.  She's having the right knee done in February. 😎

Always writing*

...and being THAT nurse...

I'm a dreamer

I think I aggravate some people with my optimism and certainty of my dreams.  I live my life in a state of knowing I'm capable of achieving my dreams so why wouldn't I live as such?  But Crystal, it hasn't happened.

Yet.

Hasn't happened...yet.

I stay in motion, and my dreams do the same.  I write or work on writing at least six days a week because that's my dream, and it needs to be fed like other parts of my life.  Do I become discouraged?  Of course.  I'm human.  But I pick myself up and continue.  It doesn't matter so much if others in my close circle don't understand how truly the writing mirrors the beating of my heart.  I understand it.  I nurture it.  I hold it close and murmur encouraging words.  We make plans for the future.  We grow.

We dream.

My dreams are built on a solid foundation of love, hard work, and diligence.  And I will make sure they are given the best opportunity to bloom into the full manifestation of every second put into them.  What I want, more than anything, is to share my stories with the world.  

And I will. 💖

Always writing*

One hell of a week

Baby Child had her gallbladder surgery October 24th.  Had pain afterwards she said was worse than her C-sections.  Worrisome.  Took her home.  Pain.  Then she got migraines.  She has bad ones.  Then Saturday began throwing up.

All bad.

Went to the ER.  They did CAT scan on her stomach and chest.  Didn't see anything.  She felt a bit better.  Sent her home.  She made an appt with her PCP for October 31st.  She calls me from the doc's office saying she went there and threw up during the appt and would drive herself to the ER.  I'm in the city with the Honey doing her pre-op appt for her knee surgery.  We finish that, and I zip my ass down to the ER to be with BC.  SHE IS MISERABLE.

I think it's around four o'clock when I arrive.  I've been up since five that morning.  They gave her pain and anti-nausea meds.  They decide they need to do a test on her, but no one in the hospital there does it.  So they reach out to St. Anthony's and OU Medical.  OU Medical accepts the transfer.  BC goes from ER to ER by ambulance.  We arrive at OU Medical ER, and BC is put in Acute Trauma.  We are in the hallway from eleven that night until six that morning waiting for a room.  They were incredibly busy, and they accept patients from all over the state.  There were flights coming in and ambulances arriving every half hour, it seemed.

I slept in a chair older than myself.  BC was tested and treated according to what her medical team felt could be the issue.  I took her home yesterday afternoon to her family.  Her three babies missed her terribly.

I don't know if/when I'll catch up on sleep.  But I'd never be anywhere else.  Because the truth?  While we were waiting all those hours in acute trauma?  People coded.  People passed.  Two rooms away a kid kept coding.  Three rooms away on our left, an older man kept crashing, and they were wheeling blood in to keep him alive.  That's reality.  

We're here for a blink.  Like a shooting star.  Remember that.  Shine while you can.  Remind your loved ones they still are.  And your dreams?  You are NEVER too old to pursue them.  

Always writing*