Goldang it. I’ve been using something called Don’t Break the Chain. It’s just a blank calendar, and you click on a day to make it red. (You can put it on your iGoogle home page so you see it every time you’re online.) If you’re trying to do something (or not do something, I suppose), you get to make the day red when you succeed — the equivalent of putting a big ole X through the day with a marker.
I use it to track my writing days. In September, about half the days are red. In October, month of travel and extreme flu, only one day is red. Shameful. Every single day in November is red, and then I continued the trend until yesterday. For thirty-six days in a row, I wrote. I was following my Latin mantra, Nulla die sine linea, no day without a line. (No one really knows to whom to attribute the saying (perhaps Horace, Apelles or Pliny), but when I was a kid I read that George MacDonald went by it, so I took it then. Loved me some George MacDonald. I’d like a tattoo of it someday. The saying, not George.)
Yesterday I didn’t write. I remembered on my way home, and meant to, just so I could keep that string red, with no gaps, but I forgot. Now, on my little calendar it says, "You’ve been dropping the ball for one day straight," instead of "You’ve been getting things done for thirty-seven days straight."
So now I have to beat 36 days in a row. That’s going to be hard. Dang it.
I’m going to count this as today’s writing, though. I don’t always count blog-writing, and I didn’t count it at all in November, but sometimes a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, you know?
Also, this morning, at 4:15am, on my way to getting up for work, I smashed my pinky finger in the bedroom door. I have NO idea how I did that, pure talent, I suppose, because our door hardly shuts on a good day, but it hurt like a sumbitch. I slammed it right on the nail, and then stood at the foot of the bed, whimpering-crying until I woke Lala up. Because, really, all that wakes her up is whimpering. A brass band won’t wake her, but a dog whining will shoot her right out of bed. It’s really a miracle. Usually it’s Harriet, begging to go outside, but today it was me. It was nice to have her say "Poor baby."
I think that’s one of the best things about being with someone you love. Someone to say that. And she was still in bed, so there were no flying peas, another nice thing. Usually when I hit the deck, slipping on the tiled floor, or tripping over a cat, she rushes to the freezer to grab the peas. Lala has always kept peas in the freezer for bumps and bruises, but she hates them as a food item. She rushes up to me with the bag, holding it out, flinging it my direction in her haste to help, and is astonished when peas fly out in a green spray all around me. Nowhere in her imagination do people (like me) actually open the peas-bag to eat them. This has happened more than once in our house. I fall, bump myself, and then duck, dodging well-intentioned frozen flying peas. No, none of that this morning. Just me whinging, holding my throbbing finger, dreading the alarm clock, Lala mumbling nice things to me through a sleep-haze.
So no more writing. For today, anyway. For your viewing pleasure, I present the Kits. My brother- and sister-in-law are in Korea, so we are watching his Siamese kitten, Viking. When she came to our house, she was smaller than our kits, Willie and Waylon. I think we have been feeding her a bit too much.
My husband keeps a flexible ice-pack in the freezer for me, left over from the time I fell off the front porch steps (all 2 of them) and broke my ankle. They’re great and have the added benefit of no vegetable leakage!
Since it’s December don’t we get a reprieve since we have to put up with all sorts of holiday season madness? So you could just continue on with your count in January….also if you write something in your head and it maybe doesn’t quite make it paper, that should count too!
I would love to know how your brother and sister-in-law came up with the name Viking for their Kit!
Happy Saturday back to tiling the bathroom floor for me 🙂
…and is astonished when peas fly out in a green spray all around me. Nowhere in her imagination do people (like me) actually open the peas-bag to eat them.
This is too funny for words. And adorable.
I have news for you. That’s not a kitten.
Oh, good tips! I love Don’t Break the Chain…genius. On par with the fertility tracker Google gadget my friend’s husband invented! =D
Also good: the stitch counter bracelets…love them.
Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha-not your finger, the image of flying peas in a moment of distress is truly funny. Hope your finger okay!
I think you should definitely count blog-writing as true writing, especially the way that you construct your blog. You aren’t just posting, “I smashed my finger today.” You tell us in a most entertaining fashion how you smashed your finger and how Lala comforted you. That definitely should count as the day’s writing.
My blog isn’t nearly as well-written as yours, but I know that if I write a few posts for my blog and then post comments on two or three other blogs then I have spent my writing energy for the day. I wonder if successful writers out there designate separate days for novel writing and correspondence.
Who the hell is George MacDonald???
Blogging is writing. I do believe you’re well aware of my opinion of people who claim it’s not.
(hint: it’s fairly low)
Also too, not fair to post about pea-frenzies when I’m reading you from work and trying to deal with some poor apologetic man who smacked into someone with his car this afternoon. One should ~not~ snort during such conversations.
What have you been feeding that cat??? And the peas story made me laugh – I’ve always read that you should use a bag of peas for such things, and I wondered how you would keep them from spilling out. Never occurred to me that you weren’t supposed to eat them!
What have you been feeding that cat, steroids? Viking has to be one of the largest Siamese I have seen.
Around here it is always mixed veggies that get pressed into service. More than once I have found a carrot chunk in a dark corner a week after the fact. Major ick.
I am laughing so damned hard at the image of flying peas. I may never look at a bag of frozen peas again without giggling. Of course, since I’m several thousand kilometres from the nearest frozen pea, it may be awhile before the next giggle, but you know what I mean…
” A brass band won’t wake her, but a dog whining will shoot her right out of bed.”
I joked to my dad once that the soft sound of my sister or me saying “dad?” from the foot of the bed must make his blood run cold because he too could sleep through a brass band. But one word from either of us in the middle of the night, and he knew something was deeply wrong with the world.
That is too funny about the peas! You made me laugh out loud with your imagery. Poor little finger, though. Door smashes quite painful. I hope it heals quickly.
I will not show the kitten picture to Fondue, I could not bear to see the heart break that would ensue.
Harharharharharhar
I love your wife. I am very sorry that your finger is ouchified. I kind of hope the next time I fall down, it’s at your house.
I think anytime you get up in the 4a.m. hour, you should be advised that your IQ drops about 30 points until 9 a.m. and coffee is drunk. You should have a 911 protocol sheet for that right?
I love that about the flying peas! Yes, they are actually food. 🙂
In my little world:
Frozen vegetables = breastfeeding pain (engorgement, mastitis)
Frozen previously damp sponge (in a plastic bag) – bonks and ouches. I learned this one from the kiddo’s preschool. Very handy, and no one eats sponges. Though they might wonder what it’s doing in the freezer.
Don’t know why I never thought of frozen veggies for other ouches. Never made it to practice for anything in my house.
My wife’s father was a fire buff — would go to watch fires, help the fire department auxiliary serve coffee to the firemen, etc. My mother-in-law said that once when she woke up with a baby crying in the next room, her husband was standing at the window watching fire engines that had just gone racing down the street, sirens going. My MIL had slept through the fire engines, but woken up for the baby.
That’s the second great link from you in a blink of time (the other was the knitter’s bracelets on Etsy – mine’s on it’s way!). Thank you!
I think that might be the description of love right there. With peas.
hee hee hee sprays of flying peas
I luv it!! GF, sometimes you just crack me up.
Since we still can’t read anymore chapters, I guess we can let you slide by counting the blog. At least I get to read it.
hee hee peas
OMG, I’m going to be thinking of flying frozen peas all day. That is hilarious.