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Adventures of the One-handed Writer
“I have to write.”
I hear this from writers over and over again. I’ll be honest, I didn’t believe it. I mean, I love to write, but come on, I could stand a vacation. Then came the car accident.
A couple weeks ago I was driving my cute little Honda Civic down the road when another driver pulled out in front of me and we had one of those slow motion, crunching kind of collision. To the witnesses on the side of the road, I don’t think there was anything slow-motion about it. But you know how the brain works, the scariest moments, even if only a fraction of a second, seem to go on for the longest time.
What a blessing to find out that my girls and my other passenger were fine. And for the most part, I thought I was too. Except there was this ache in my pinky. And as the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain spread across my hand.
Two days later, I found myself sporting a bright pink cast to protect my broken wrist and sprained fingers. The worst part is not being able type.
You may be wondering how I’m writing this blog post. Am I really typing it out one letter at a time? Am I torturing one of my children by making them take my dictation?
Nope.
Today’s rambling comes to you through Dragon Naturally Speaking. The program and I haven’t become fast friends as of yet, but we’re communicating better than we were a week ago. Maybe by the time I actually get my hand back, the Dragon and I will no longer wants to part ways. But I don’t really think that will be the case.
So far our biggest argument is about how the Dragon insists upon typing out every word I scream at him when we argue.
Back to my original point. I was wrong. I have to write! Even if it means talking to myself in my empty living room, and hoping some software understands what I’m trying to say. And even if it means pecking out one letter at a time. Somehow, writing has become part of my identity.
And maybe there’s something else to learn. I will not be finishing the edits on my manuscript by the end of November, as I’d planned. The biography I’m working on for an exceptional woman, will not be printed this month. My floor will not be swept. Dishes will remain in the sink. And my bed, I think my bed may be lumpy through the whole process.
As annoying as this may be, I can’t help but think of how much worse it could have been. My girls and my other passenger came out of the accident with only seatbelt bruises. Thank God for seatbelts and well-made cars.
Two weeks later, I have a new car. It’s not cute and zippy, like the one that got munched, but it starts every time I turn the key. The other driver’s insurance is covering all our medical expenses. And casts come bright pink. The weather in Oregon has been unusually sunny this October, and I have time to walk in it. Last night I even managed to play pinochle.
Thanks for listening to me ramble on. A hope your day is blessed.
Christina
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It’s the Simple Things: Reclaiming Time
Last March, that’s five months ago, our dishwasher gave out. My husband, who believes in the ability of all appliances to return from the grave, suggested he could fix it.
Again, that was five months ago.
The kids don’t stop using dishes because there isn’t a magical box below the counter to vanquish the gunk.
“No big deal. I’m tough. I can handle this,” I say in March. And really, it isn’t a huge problem. People are facing all kinds of horrific challenges. Washing dishes by hand isn’t a trial or a hardship. It’s only a time snatcher.
I came up with a creative way to get the kids involved. Grandma and Grandpa like to spoil them with sugar cereals. After one of their visits I put a requirement on this indulgence. In order to have a bowl of the yummy stuff, five dishes had to be washed. This was wonderful until I reached for a glass from the cupboard and my fingers slid along the surface. GROSS! In an effort to save us all from food poisoning, I went back to the suds…alone.
After many failed attempt to revive the dishwasher, my husband called in a professional. It took only minutes before the man declared our machine dead. No longer able to be revived. Pull the life support and let it go.
You have to know that by this time my husband had taken the dishwasher into the backyard, put it up on blocks, and wired it to the electricity by a long string of coax sprawling through my kitchen. As if our creative fencing and dryer repair hadn’t already given us the gold stamp of redneck approval, we’d now hit a new high (or low).
All that’s behind us now. We brought in an installed the new washer last week. It’s beautiful, quiet, and washes the dishes with such ease. And my time has exploded.
Let’s take a look:
5 months without a dishwasher.
110 episodes of the Dick Van Dyke show watched on my laptop while washing dishes (help keeps things in perspective).
Each episode equals 25 minutes. That’s 2750 minutes.
I watched (really listened) to the program only a fraction of the time I washed. Let call it half to be generous. That brings our total to 5500 minutes.
Five months is approximately 22 weeks. Which means I spend about 250 minutes per week washing dishes. That’s 4 hours and 10 minutes a week!
The kids are back to loading their own dishes and taking turns unloading the dishwasher. This may not have worked out so well for them, but for me, it’s wonderful.
In four hours I can:
Write 4,500 words.
Edit 40 pages.
Write 5 blog posts (it takes me much longer to blog than to write in my manuscript).
Critique 4 submissions from my critique group.
Life is so good!
Hey, take a second to notice the new gizmo at the top right of the screen. If you could add your email to my list, it will make you eligible for future giveaways. Trust me, you will not be sent a bunch of email and I will never share your information.
Thanks!
Christina
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Coconut Cream Cake, OOPS!
I discovered this recipe just before Easter while searching for a new treat to bring to a family event. How could I possibly go wrong with a cake made of coconut and cream? Here’s how. I left the cake in the refrigerator and only remembered it after we’d traveled an hour down the road.
So, we had a lovely Easter with extended family, returned home, and ate way too much cake. It was as yummy as I’d hoped. The recipe quickly became a family favorite.
A few months later, I baked two cakes. The first I delivered to our church to be served after a memorial service. I returned home from the drop off and my husband ushered me right back to our SUV so we could take a look at a car he thought we might want to purchase.
We came to the address listed in the ad, and as we walked toward the garage something felt wrong. I ran my hand over the back of my jeans and immediately my fingers were covered in coconut goo. The cake had leaked onto the seat, and I had sat right in the mess. As I stared at my dripping hand a women emerged from around the corner. Yep, there I was covered in glop as she reached to shake my hand.
I greeted her with a blank stare and this profound statement: “I have coconut cream on my hand.”
To her credit, she didn’t hesitate or even ask how I could possibly have gotten coconut cream all over me while standing in her driveway. She just offered me a sink to wash up.
And we didn’t even buy her car!
So, what’s the point of that story? I don’t really have one. That’s the benefit of a blog. I can ramble on about anything I want. But I will offer you a reward for having made it through this post. Here’s the recipe:
1 box of white cake mix.
3 eggs
1/3 cup of vegetable oil
1 cup water
3/4 teaspoon coconut extract
14 oz. coconut cream (I find this in the mixed drink section. If you can’t find coconut cream, coconut milk will work but use the thickest brand. That means shaking them in the store.)
14 oz. sweetened condensed milk
1 cup heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon white sugar
flaked coconut
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 9×13 inch pan with non-stick spray.
- Combine cake mix, eggs, oil, water and coconut flavoring. Beat for 2 minutes and pour into pan. Bake for 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the cake comes out clean.
- Mix together coconut cream and sweetened condensed milk until smooth.
- Poke holes into the warm cake using chopsticks or something similar.
- Pour mixture over slowly, allowing it to soak into the cake.
- Refrigerate for several hours or overnight.
- Whip cream and sugar until soft peaks form. Spread over cooled cake. Sprinkle top with flaked coconut.
- Do not forget the cake.
- Do not transport cake on an uneven car seat.
- Do not sit in coconut goo.
Enjoy! Leave me a comment if you use the recipe. I’d love to hear what you thought.
photo credit: RobynAnderson via photopin cc
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Overwhelmed!
OVERWHELMED!
Have you ever felt that way?
It’s not the same as unhappy, angry, tired or even frustrated.
You can be overwhelmed and still be so blessed you’d never trade places with anyone…ever.
My life is busy. It’s busy for most of us. When I had four very little children, I was overwhelmed with all their needs. Nothing made me happier than being their mother, but it’s a lot of work with very little respite.
As the kiddos grow, my role in their lives has changed. I’ve taken on new challenges and life is no less busy. Where once I filled sippy cups and wiped up sticky fingerprints, now I drive to and from classes, cheer through numerous sporting events, arrange activities for the Senior All-night Party, homeschool and help with homework. And then there’s my writing. And my husband. And that cat who keeps vomiting as soon as anyone lets her in the house.
All great things. Well…maybe not the part about the cat.
I’m sure you know that feeling. It creeps up from your toes, squeezing you until you can’t take a deep breath. Finally, you hit the point where standing in the field and screaming while it’s pouring down rain seems like a logical solution.
And while this may help for a moment, once you’re back in the house and dried off you’re still in the same situation.
Years ago a friend gave me some advice that really helped. She suggested writing down my top three priorities.
Okay, that’s not so hard, right?
Here’s the tricky part, the part I seem to let slide.
Never (or very rarely) say yes to anything that doesn’t positively relate to one of those priorities.
That means saying no. It sounds so easy, but when some sweet lady is asking you to do something that seems like a good thing, it’s so very hard to muster those two letters. N.O.
There are many wonderful things we can do with our time, but if we continue to divide our days, the pieces become too small to make a difference.
What do you think?
