Week in Review: 21 of 52

Week in Review: 21 of 52

Author’s note: posts work much better when one remembers to actually hit “post” rather than leaving things in the draft to languish.

What a week! After a brief visit to the Emergency Room, I was thrown a little off my game. I didn’t get any writing done this week. Zippo. None. Zero. Bubkis. Zilch. Nuffin’. 

I have planning done, four pages of it. But I don’t count that in my word count. So I am still at 11,020. But I am hopeful for this week.

A lot on the hook at the moment as well! My current list of active projects is a little… lengthy:

  • Super Snuggle Queen Sized Blanket for my Darling, made with Bernat Blanket yarn
  • Queen-sized blanket for my Brother in earth tones
  • Giant ripple throw for my Sister in Law in blues, greens, and purples
  • Boho Wedding Blanket I’m making for my lovely wife to be and I
  • A throw for my friend Traci
  • An ombré blanket in yellow, green, and blue for my friend Dan
  • A shawl for myself in purple and copper
  • The insomnia blanket I work on when I can’t sleep
  • Baby blanket for incoming Baby F. being made as a corner to corner in a beautiful Reef variegated yarn
  • Baby blanket for incoming Baby B. made from a Bernat pattern in bright pink and purple
  • Baby blanket for incoming Baby J. Thus far, yarn and pattern are yet undecided
  • Throw for my cousin
  • Ocean wave throw for my friend Dana
  • An overdue winter hat for my writer friend
  • A crochet jacket a la Molly Weasley I’ve been wanting to make for forever
  • At least three other things I have likely forgotten about and have stashed somewhere.

So that’s this week in Review! Now I realize why there is a yarn buying moratorium currently. Heh.

Hopefully, the extra day off will prove a little more productive!


Wordy Wednesday Went Wonky!

There should be a short story here. Instead, I’m just going to tell you I spent seven hours in the Emergency Room. I am home now, obviously, but have a doctor’s appointment in the bright and early.

So! Sorry the malfunctioning meatbag got in the way of a short story, but with a blood sugar of over 400, it was hospital or coffin, basically. I even, quite unfortunately, had to leave work early. Ugh. 

Oh well. Until nex time, blogosphere! I hope to have a little something written for you lovely people posted on AO3 later this week. Potterhead forever!

-slowly walks away, humming Hedwig’s theme, only to trip over air-

Week in Review: 20 of 52

Wowzers, what a week!

I got knocked down by some of the continuing adventures of the malfunctioning meatbag, a.k.a. my own body was fighting me, on Tuesday, so it was a bit of an interesting week. Work dragged a bit, but man were the Muses biting this week.

I’ve gotten about five hundred words written on this week’s short story. I’ll be alternating weeks of short stories and book reviews for Wordy Wednesday from now on. The book I was going to review just hasn’t caught me, and I’m four chapters in. I’ll try and get through it anyway. Maybe it will pick up?

For the word count update, I’m up to 11,020 words so far! More to come, as I hope this week will prove far more productive and less… plagued by illness as last week was. I’ve no update on the Gradient Throw I’m making for my Sis-in-Law, as I have not taken pictures. Whoops. I’ll work on that.

I’ve work in the morning, and it’s getting a wee bit late, so I and my Darling are off to bed.

May your tea be warm and perfectly brewed and your Monday be full of laughter!

Week in Review: 19 of 52

Holy Toledo, what a week! Not much writing-writing done… sort of? I got the personal blog up and running. And not much else  but a whole lot of drafting of story sheets, outlining, and polishing. I did knock out that one short story on Wednesday. Go me!

Word count total for this week is 9,762. Woo hoo! If I keep this pace up, I’ll be caught up in no time at all.

As for on the hook, more progress has been made on the blanket for my sis-in-law.

Slowly but surely, it grows.

I’ve also brought an old hobby back on board as my anxiety has been kicking me in the teeth. Since sketching in a sketchbook at work would both be detrimental to my focus and frequently interrupted, I returned to an old favored medium: the postal envelope.

This week’s creation is thus far uncolored.

Well, that’s all for tonight. Again, I am squeaking in just before midnight. That trend is unlikely to change.

I go now to snuggle my Darling and try to sleep.

May your Monday fly by quickly and the coming week present a wonderful surprise. Let’s hope week 20 is even more productive!

Wednesday Words: a short story

We all have that one coworker that drives us batty, don’t we?

Title: Uncommon Sense

Word Count: approximately 1,300 words

Genre: Slice of Life


Uncommon Sense


It was like the squeak of a rusty ceiling fan, spinning lazily on a summer’s day. Annoying but well able to be ignored. 


Rebecca kept typing. The only outward sign of her irritation was the slight jiggle of one foot under her desk.


Or maybe it was more like the thump of a basketball against the driveway when you’re trying to nap. 

She changed an errant comma splice in the summary report and changed the accidental capitalization of the ‘m’ in ‘temporary’.


Or just a particularly vexing coworker that you hope might topple backwards out of their ergonomically pillowed chair.


Email sent; she saved and minimized her work. The file was shuffled back into its folder.
“Whatever it is, I am not Google.” Rebecca said. Papers in order, the file folder was dropped into the bin labeled ‘Done’.


 Her three syllable name was stretched to a droning half minute of obnoxious whine.
Rebecca hesitated on picking up the next file. She heard the telltale squeak of a chair spinning round and round in the next cubicle over.
“Becky, why are you ignoring me?”

Instead of answering, Rebecca picked up the mug that had been sitting neglected on the coaster at the back corner of her desk. She took a sip of her lukewarm tea, hiding a smile as a squawk of surprise cut off the next repetition of her name.

“You’re going to fall over if you keep leaning back like that, Caroline,” Rebecca chided. The squeak of a chair spring straightening rapidly made her eyes roll. 

“Be careful, Caroline,” a reedy, wavering voice warned. “A pinch of prevention is worth a pound of cure! And the cure isn’t just being amorous on the week’s end.” 

Toby waggled a trio of file folders. He stopped in between Caroline and Rebecca’s cubicles.
Caroline was kneeling backwards in her chair, now wheeled out of her cubicle enough to be just inside Rebecca’s cubicle.

It made Rebecca want to lob a crumpled up Post It note and bean Caroline with it.

“Yes, Toby. Thank goodness it’s Friday,” Rebecca said. She turned her chair around to face the two invaders of her space. One was quite welcome, the other she continued to try to ignore. 
“Good morning, my friend,” Rebecca greeted him with her tea mug still clasped in her hands. 

“Morning, for another ninety three minutes,” Toby said. He knocked his glasses back up his nose with the back of one large hand. “And Friday it is indeed.”

“How odd.” Rebecca finished the last sip of her tea and blindly set the empty mug back on the desktop behind her.She was focused on Toby. “You always wear green on Friday, Toby.”

“I do,” Toby agreed. He tucked his arms behind his back and rocked back and forth from ball to heel. He hummed a little tune under his breath as he waited. Owlish eyes glittered behind the thick lenses, laughter not vocalized.
“But your shirt is blue. And your trousers black,” Rebecca tilted her head to one side, amused by the puckish smile stretching across Tony’s face. ‘The shirt’s a polo, so no cufflinks,’ Rebecca thought. “So where’s the green?”

He didn’t answer, just continued to smile and rock back and forth.
Toby’s glee in simple jokes and quirky turns of phrase often belied the graying, receding hairline and the growing belly that went hand in hand with his five plus decades. He was wicked sharp with facts, figures, and remembering zip codes; but he had a wholly unique perspective on certain things.


Another beat of relative silence passed as Caroline gave her chair a spin. And then another. 

Somewhere nearby, a printer sprang to life and began spitting out a few dozen pages. The cubicle wall, mostly fabric over a frame, wobbled a bit each time Caroline grabbed at it to spin. The photo of Rebecca with her sister shook a bit with the disturbance. 

Caroline also often acted much younger than her age; but that was more her barely post-adolescent nature than anything.

She was quieter on days that she was hung over, but today was not one of those days.
“Your socks!” Rebecca said finally puzzling it out. 

Toby grinned and nodded. One hand crept out from behind his back and pulled up a trouser leg to reveal a lime green sock, massive fabric frog eyes peering up over the tongue of his leather shoes. 

“Those are bright as hell,” Caroline stopped her spinning long enough to stare at Toby’s frog socks. “Kinda a weird choice for socks.”
Toby’s smile fell, a bit and he let his pant leg go. He knocked his glasses back up his nose again. This time, he left a smudge across the bottom of one glass lens.

“Well, guess what, Toby?” Rebecca mentally shot flaming arrows over the cubicle partition as Caroline rolled back into her own workspace. “We coordinate today.” 

Rebecca toed off her ballet flats and wiggles her painted toenails in front of her for Toby to see. They were ten spots of bright green nail polish glinting in the overhead lighting.

Toby’s smile inched back up. His wide shoulders wobbled with his chuckle.

“Indeed we do! You are, yet again, the sinister to my dexter.” 

He toddled off at that proclamation, a peek of bright green showing at his ankle as he walked away.
“He’s weird,” Caroline announced. “Not, like, a bad weird, but-”

“Did you need something, Caroline?” Rebecca interrupted her coworker without qualm.

“Oh yeah!” Caroline’s head popped into view over the cubicle partition. “What’s as nauseam mean?”

“Ask a search engine,” Rebecca slipped her flats back on and spun around.
“Why would I do that?” Both of her arms rested atop the cubicle divider, her chin atop them.
“Because my job is not human dictionary. It is data entry clerk. And you are perfectly capable of looking something up yourself.” Rebecca moved her empty teacup farther back from the edge of the desk, lest an errant elbow send it to the floor by accident.
“But you’re good at explaining stuff,” Caroline persisted even as Rebecca brought up the next blank form and pulled a file from her ‘To Do’ bin.

“So is the Internet,” Rebecca replied. 

She flipped open the file and swallowed a sigh at the mess inside. Handwritten logs were always a mess and the handwriting could be awful. Never mind the mystery stains of coffee, ketchup, or god knows what else the drivers spilled on them.
Caroline heard the elevator ding and disappeared from view.
There was a blessed three whole minutes of silence before Caroline spoke again.
“Okay, so what does ‘pontificate’ mean?”
Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose, mentally bashing her head against the desk regardless of the papers before her.

“Being a pompous jerk when speaking, essentially,” Rebecca answered in spite of knowing what was coming next.

“Oh,” came the reply.
Wait for it… wait for it.‘ Rebecca made it almost all the way to the mental count of ten before:

“Are you sure?” Caroline asked.

And I knew it,‘ Rebecca thought.
More than a little annoyed, she looked upwards to the fluorescent lighting and ugly ceiling tiles above, as if some fantastic deity of office drudgery might appear. With a toner bar in one hand, a cup of pens and paper clips in the other, their corporate causal clad form would bestow wisdom on those who had once stapled their own finger to a post it note by accident.
“I am fairly certain, yes,” Rebecca said. She tried to smother the irritation in her voice.

“I’m going to Google it,” Caroline said, cheerfully.

This time, Rebecca did rest her forehead on the desk top. “Of course you are.”

W.I.P.: A Foreword to Moral Fable

This collection of tales will be dedicated to every woman who ever broke my heart, helped me mend when I bruised it, and to those who stood by me, even when I did it to myself. For those whose names I bear in memory and in my heart still.


Every world, every culture, every faith has its own collection of stories. Many serve as moral fables: simple tales, though not always so, that travel from place to place, from ear to ear with a lesson to tell. These stories may be dressed in the trappings of their time or layered in the myths of times long gone. There is always some new variant upon each telling, some change as every storyteller must add their own tweak to catch the fickle ear of their audience. Whatever is altered, the heart of the story ever remains the same. The purpose of a moral fable is to offer a lesson, suggest a course of action, or serve as a warning to the listener. It can as an example of the various paths one could take or offer a riddle as its conclusion. Sometimes, they strive to fill the place of a life lesson, without the pain and strife that so often accompanies.

Stories, while bearing of similar themes, are not the same, not all the way through. Moments of mirrored storyline can crop up, but there are as many different version of a fairy tale as there are lips or hands to speak it. Take, for example, the tale of the little Cinder-Girl. Hers is a story of kindness, patience and grace in adversity, and hard work begetting a joyful life. By the same token, the fable of the Lazy Ant and the Industrious Grasshopper has a similar ending: the one who worked hard for what they needed got their happy ending. Both stories have similarities, even similar themes of hard work rewarding those who so diligently apply themselves. The moral of the story, however, is far different. The Ant is left to starve. This implies that laziness is not rewarded, punished even. The Grasshopper and the Cinder-Girl get their happy ending, but at a bit of a cost. Nothing, at least not in the real world, is a ‘happily ever after’ forever. There will always be trouble brewing on the horizon.

The Grasshopper will live in luxury for the length of the winter, well fed from the stores she slaved to gather under the Ant’s mocking gaze. When spring comes again, the Grasshopper will find herself gathering food in order to survive the next hard winter. It is a never-ending cycle for the poor creature. The Cinder-Girl, now a princess, will live as a princess for the rest of her days. While her days of sleeping by a fireplace are over, that does not mean that those days will not have left their scars, nor that she will not encounter strife in the days after.

Each lesson, no matter what trappings it bears or packaging it is presented in, is important. It may be a vague idea of being kind to others; these are so often presented as travelers asking for a boon or for a warm meal. Others are more complex, tailored to a specific person or a finite ideal. Many the world over know the story of a quest for The Grail and the ones who pursue it. Others still tell of trials and tribulations leading to success beyond measure, or more physical rewards such as material goods and money. But overall, the general idea remains the same. They often help us learn what to do, what not to do, nudge us in a different direction that how we might otherwise journey, or offer lessons on how to become the best versions of ourselves as we grow. 

It is these moral fables that help to keep the stories of the past relevant and histories alive long after the physical form of whatever heroine or hero has returned to the dust of the earth.