Autumn

This is my favorite time of year.  I love Autumn.  I love the crispness in the air, the leaves changing colors and falling off the trees, Thanksgiving, and my all-time fave, Halloween.  It's a little weird for me this year though.  This time last year is when I first got sick.  I was feeling good, as good as I feel now, and then BOOM, sick.  Right after my birthday in mid-October.  Everything reminds me of it right now.  We went to Lowe's today and I remember going to Lowe's right before it happened.  I remember laughing at Asher's excitement at all of the Halloween and Christmas decorations.  I remember looking forward to the holidays and the chilly air.  I've got a lot of deja vu going on.  Vocalizing it means it won't happen, right?

My 3 year old teenager

How did we end up with a 3 year old teenager?  I tried to evoke excitement for an upcoming, fun-filled event, to which Asher's response to, "Doesn't that sound fun?" involved a sullenly expressed, "Not really, Mom."  Followed by the eye-roll.  Okay, not a full-fledged roll, but definitely an eye-shift to the side, emphasizing how unfun it sounded.  He recently said, "Whatever." Refuses to discuss his day at school.  Retrieving information about his day is like pulling teeth.  Although, if he's really happy or excited, he'll pop.  It's like he can't contain his excitement and it comes bubbling out in the form a loudly yelled, "POP!" I love those pops.  I doubt he'll do that as a teenager.

Reading and Writing

You know that feeling you get after you've finished a really great book?  Like you've been changed somehow?  That's what I'm feeling right now.  I just finished The Time Between by Karen White.  Wow, what a great book.  I found myself marveling throughout the novel at the author's ability to create such a touching and powerful story, with characters complex and human.  So many times while reading I wondered how she came up with that.  As many of you know, I am writing my own fiction-based novel.  I am at 10,000 words now (a novel is typically around 60,000).  I said I would write every day, no matter if I felt like it or not, but I haven't.  Between trips, occasions, and life, I've found it hard to find time to write and harder still when I sit down to try.  I pretty much have to reread the story, which takes some time, to remember where I am and what's happened.  However, despite the hiccups in my trajectory, I will soldier on.  I still love writing it and feel immense pleasure when I take up my keyboard to delve back in.  Today, though, I had to finish White's book.  I couldn't put it down.  I thought at one point, how could I write a book after reading one from such an accomplished author.  I've had this discussion before.  If there is no hope of writing like JK Rowling, why bother?  Let the masters make their masterpieces.  While I have nowhere near the ability of these and many great authors, the process of creating something entirely my own from nothing is truly invigorating.

Moderation

Never one to diet, my grandmother has always lived and eaten according to moderation.  My brother-in-law recently sent me an article on debunking so-called "clean" eating.  Basically, the article explained that food is food, there is no such thing as clean food, and while some foods are better for you than others, any and all in moderation is fine.  As my mother-in-law says, the hard part of moderation is moderation.  I completely agree.  While I am currently not one to really shun any food group, I have been known in the past to be pretty strict about my nutrition and my son's.  These days, I sing a little different tune, aiming more for moderation, with a sticky side of sweet binging that may need some tweaking.  My husband, who could not believe I didn't eat meat when he met me and made fun of me for years for my healthy ways, will now not touch red meat (after watching Forks Over Knives) and insists on sending Asher something green or veggie every day for lunch regardless of whether or not he will actually eat said green.  Funny how things change.

August's End

Nothing feels quite so good as toes in the sand, salt in the air, and the surf sounds rushing in with the wind.  I couldn't quite believe we were in Seaside after this crazy year.   It had been ten years since I had last seen Seaside, and while there were some obvious changes (new restaurants and shops and awesome food trucks), much of what I remembered was the same.  The houses were quaint and colorful, the tourists were happy, and there was a lot of ice cream to be eaten.  We traveled by bicycles, with Asher in a caboose, and lived in our make-believe bubble for Labor Day Weekend.  It was a perfect beach trip.  Asher and Lawson spent all day playing in the sand, crashing in the afternoon, and every evening was spent back on the beach, nights topped off with ice cream.  After a brief visit to St. Louis, where I got to reconnect with two dear friends and convince my doctor that I didn't need any more IVIG (woohoo!), this end to August was very sweet.

Books

In the hospital, I read a lot of young adult, dystopian novels when I could read.  I read Uglies and Pretties, Cinder and Scarlet, Legend, Haven, Wool Omnibus (not YA), and I reread Divergent for the third time, to name a few.  I also read some great novels in fiction that I would recommend, The Language of Flowers, The Kitchen House, The Night Circus, and The Storyteller.  I've always been an avid reader but dystopian are my favorite.  Harry Potter is still the top of my list.  But there came a time when I couldn't read.  I would try to read, but couldn't focus enough on the story and I would end up just zoning out for hours at a time.  This was when I was really sick.  It took me awhile to get back into reading, which I found surprising.  I read a lot of samples but never wanted to read much more than that.  I've just recently gotten back into it again and last week, I was in the mood for something light and beachy, in anticipation of our upcoming beach vacay.  I downloaded Delinsky's new book, Sweet Salt Air, and all I knew was that it was about two friends, the beach, and some secrets.  Would you believe that it also ended up being about stem cell transplants and liver problems too?!  The irony almost made me believe in a comedic higher power.  Of course, this was about umbilical chord stem cells, which is more controversial, but still, I wouldn't have chosen to read had I known!  It brought back too many memories and I found myself panicking a little when I read it.  I would've put it down but I was mad!  So I made myself read it (I was also already invested in the characters and needed to know what would happen).  I wouldn't really recommend the book, not because of the whole transplant thing, but because the book ends in a perfect bow, and I don't usually like that.

My mom and I are heading to St. Louis soon and we're going to listen to The Girl Who Plays with Fire on cd on the way.  We've found that it makes the drive go much faster. Listening to a book makes it stick in my brain so differently than reading one.  The last book we listened to, The Woods, didn't leave me for a long time and I missed listening to the reader when it was done.  Usually I pick up another book so fast that I have a hard time remembering what the previous book was about, but listening to a story is completely different and, while it takes a bit to get used to, is very enjoyable.  It's kind of a lost art, that harkens back to when people would read sections of poetry or the Bible to their family and guests to end the day.  Before radio and television, that is.

I am writing a book.  Not based on my experience.  A book of fiction.  I've always wanted to write novels and I've started a few in the past but never completed them.  I'm going to complete this one.  I read an author's blog who was adamant: write everyday, even if you don't feel like it. Think of it as a job and just write something.  That's how I'm looking at it, because there are days when I think I have no idea where the novel is going, but then I sit down and start writing and I'm always surprised where it went.  I can now see how a novel starts to take its own shape and grow out of control.  I have to keep a calendar for my characters in addition to my own so that I don't forget their upcoming events!  I've got 4,500 words and I'm still at what feels like the beginning of the story (a novella is typically around 20,000 words and a first novel is generally around 60,000 to put it in perspective).   It's definitely a learning process but I am loving it so far.

Verbal Diarrhea

I wasn't planning on blogging today, but I just had an embarrassing experience and for some reason, whenever that happens, I feel the need to share and relive my shame.  While I was out riding my bicycle with Asher on his trike and Lawson on foot, we met some of our neighbors who live down the street with their cute 19 month old daughter.  After making introductions and planning to play at a later date, I blurted out - "I just had a bone marrow transplant.  That's why I have no hair."  I wasn't wearing my wig, which is becoming more commonplace for me, but I was wearing a helmet and they probably couldn't even see much of my head to begin with.  Actually, that was their first response, "Oh! We didn't even notice..."  Awkward.   While I continued to blab my medical history to these poor people, my legs began to frantically pedal my bicycle further and further away, like they were begging my mouth to STOP TALKING. Obviously my insecurity with my short tresses comes out in the form of verbal diarrhea.  As we made our hasty exit, I turned to Lawson, "TMI?" Always trusted to give an honest answer, he responded, "probably." :)