Planned Failure

When I thought about writing this week’s blog, I wondered which topic to pick: there were several.  My 16 year old's knee surgery immediately came to mind..  There were all the details surrounding a surgical event: getting ready, time off from work, the logistics afterward having an immobile patient needing constant care and general effects on the family.

There were other topics: a writing project I promised someone that I did last minute, my killing of the vacuum (from lack of use I’m guessing?) or the fact that Halloween is almost here and my daughter’s costume is not sewn. My mother is supposed to be working on this project . ARG!  Also my SIO is deep into a technical project and has very little time to see me.  Pick a subject, I could write a book.  Don’t worry; I won’t.

 For now, I’m having a gigantic pity party of my own making.  I am consumed by fatigue and logistics of planning the events that await me in the weeks ahead.   I trying to be positive but the negative me keeps slapping me upside the head yelling “Fail Fail Fail!”    I feel trapped.

I thought I had planned ahead for everything, I had it all worked out.  Sifting through the debris of last week and looking forward for the next 8 weeks, I realized I had been trapped by a few minor details. I was one “leg short”. I was over booked.  There are the absolutes:  work and meetings, commitments I made months ago I can’t avoid.  There are other events, which I so wanted to attend and now seem impossible. Issues that I thought I could count on others to take care of are now left to me to deal with. It’s not their fault, mind you.  It’s really just a case of “leg entrapment”

I was talking to a friend who has 3 young children, the youngest under a year old.  We commiserated together about the feeling of being trapped. Like me, she usually can’t be dragged out for anything trivial. Lately the baby had been sick and wanting to be held constantly. If something trivial has come up she has jumped at the chance to get out of the house and escape.   We have  yearning to escape, whatever the reason, just let us out!

Saturday during a escape to the store, I found myself enjoying the solitude of the laundry detergent aisle.  I stood there quietly looking over each brand of detergent like a scientist doing research.  Several minutes passed, no other customers came down the aisle.   My mind began to wonder; did I really need laundry detergent today?  What did I have to tomorrow? And the next day?  I could see my schedule like a hologram projected against the detergent display shelves.  I was beginning to feel trapped again when a familiar face appeared in my sight.  A friend rescued me.  After a brief conversation she reminded me that I could only enjoy the solitude of the laundry detergent aisle until closing.  I reminded her that the store was open 24 hours.  “Well, I guess you can stay as long as you like.”   I returned to my solitary research on laundry detergent.

So what is the answer?  How do I overcome this feeling of entrapment and failure to foresee future details?  I don’t know.  Something isn’t going to get done; something isn’t going to get written; someone is going to be picked up late; someone is going to be missing an important “something” because I was too overwhelmed by the details in my head to remember where it was placed.  

 I will get out of my pity party head eventually and move forward.  And hey it will be Thanksgiving!  And Christmas!  Gobble Joy Gobble.

I hope the laundry detergent containers are decorated in silver and blue this year.  It is so festive.

Peace.

NEPB

A Leap of Faith in Cancer Research

Two weeks ago a study was release in the Journal Nature.  Using the DNA of over 800 women with Breast Cancer, researchers have determined 4 major types of the disease based on the genetic code of  the tumors. This will hopefully lead to a more targeted therapy for treatment based on differences in tumor genetics. Drugs can be better tailored to fight the disease. Some targeted therapies exist now for example: women with the HER-2 enriched  type receive  the drug Herceptin.

Now let me step back a moment; When you are first diagnosed with a later stage of the disease, doctors suggest treatment to you. “This is how we are going to treat you” You can say no.  No one is holding a gun to your head. On the flip side there is this other big bad monster holding a gun to you from the inside. Most choose treatment.  We choose the scary world of sickening side effects and sometimes, damage left behind by the treatments received (example:Herceptin).

This new study is a giant leap forward in determining better drugs. There is no magic drug at this time, drugs still need to be developed, multiple drugs.  In order to use the drugs on a large scale, patients will be asked to TRY them.  Clinical Trials.  In a clinical trial, the patient agrees to test an experimental drug: a drug that may or may not work.  Often the trial location is many miles from the patient’s home.  This involves a huge expense on the patient’s part, an expense that the patient must absorb. 

 It is a giant leap of faith: faith  in the researchers, the drug and the patient’s own ability to endure all aspects of the treatment. 

If the drug works, than this patient has not only succeeded in stabilizing their disease but the possibility for other patients with the same disease protocol is outstanding!   Researchers and Doctors can now develop new treatment protocol for patients with the same disease and hopefully have the same results.

Help patients take that Giant Leap of faith.  Donate to the cure.  Remember your donation to support Breast Cancer Research not only supports Breast Cancer but other types of cancer research.

http://americancancerfund.org/how-to-help

http://www.relayforlife.org/index

http://ww5.komen.org/

peace.

NEPB

A Talent Defect

I wondered to myself: natural talent versus environment factors.  My past came floating back with every question she asked.

 I sat on the patio, trimming the grass, while my 9 year old wrote questions for another interview.  She had decided to write a newsletter about the local farmers market.   We started this discussion a few weeks ago as we walked back from our weekly Saturday morning trip. We discussed  ideas like newspaper reporters, brainstorming ideas for the Sunday morning edition: who she would interview, what she would ask and what the final layout should look like. I almost recited the “who, what, where, when and how”. I stopped myself: trying not to influence her too much.

 I started remembering my college classes.  I was enrolled a variety of  writing classes; forced to seek out subjects and people to interview.  I lacked enthusiasm and ideas. Here present day, I was a bit jealous of my daughter. I was struck by her eagerness to write.

What was the source of her enthusiasm?  Every Saturday morning she finds me sitting at the computer writing. I get up when the house is quiet and work on projects. Or is it my recent rants “I can’t do it now, I have write before I forget!”   Or maybe was it her first grade teacher’s enthusiasm for writing.  I had seen this enthusiasm during Authors Celebrations twice during that school year.  I had been very impressed.  

As I silently sat lost in the past , my 3^rd grader rattled off a list of interview questions that would make any newspaper editor proud.  She then proceeded to ask about others she could interview to complete her newsletter.  I asked if this was a class project.  “Not really, I just want to do it”. She replied with a little gleam in her eyes.

I wonder about talents. I’m not sure I have a writing talent mind you; I question it daily. If I did I would have finished certain projects long ago. However, musical talent runs through my family. I have played the piano and organ since I was a child. All of my older children play an instrument; some play multiple instruments. The youngest has yet shown signs of the music defect as I refer to it.  

Do our children possess some magical hidden gene; a gene that makes their talent so much better than our own, such that their strengths begin showing at an earlier age? She began keeping a journal in 1^st grade. This past summer she was writing stories and now she has come up with this idea.  Is this a magical gene surfacing or just an environmental influence?

Certainly children learn from everything in their environment. Often we referred to them as sponges, soaking it all in.  As parents we can only hope they filter the good particles.  As the parent of 5 children I certainly learned you can’t be there to filter out everything.  In this process of filtering are we focusing our children on that talent which they truly possess?  Are we doing the right thing?

My junior journalist completed her second interview yesterday.  I watched her interview from a safe distance, not wanting to intrude or influence. The woman’s face lit up with a smile at every question. She was intrigued by my young charmer.

Later we sat in the Market Square eating apples, listening to the musician and discussing her next interview.  Who would it be: a shopper, a volunteer?  We were interrupted by friends stopping by to say hello.  The children began a game of tag , running through the grass. Our lesson was over; it was time to be a child again.  Stopping the conversation with the grownups, I paused for a moment, watching my child.    It relieved me to see her leave her project behind and be a child again. 

I certainly want her to finish this project, yet I want her to be a child too. I want her to be that child running carefree  after her friends on a bright Saturday morning. Of course I am biased, but I am proud of this child. She’s being creative and brave.  I hope this defect rubs off on me.

Peace.

NEPB

Discount at your own risk

Large packages of discounted  meat should come with a warning label:  Do not attempt to cut unless professionally trained.

 I purchased a large piece of pork at a huge discount.  I have to admit I spent several minute handling it, feeling the bones and wondering how on Earth I was going to cut it once it was in my kitchen.  For a few seconds, I almost didn’t buy it, but it was such a good bargain, it couldn’t be overlooked.  I tossed  it my cart.

I hurried home, wanting to get it in the roaster to have ready by dinner time.  Cleaning the counter, I gathered the necessary tools: big knife, chopping board, paper towels,a priest and band-aids. I hesitated a moment thinking I could wake my sleeping teenage son for help, but knowing he had been up all night with friends for a Horror – movie- marathon, I took pity and let him sleep. Stealthy, I turned around and grabbed the package of pork by the tail and slung it on the counter. 

The package was bigger than the chopping board.  This wasn’t going to be easy, especially for someone who makes huge mistakes in the kitchen.  After cutting open the package, it began to leak, running down the cabinets. Mess number one was underway.  Luckily, the dog was there to help with this cleanup.

Where to cut first?  I told myself to be brave and just dive in. No testing to the water to see if it was safe, just get it over with already.  I felt my way through the first half somehow, tossing each piece into the roaster as I went.  The dog watched my every move; she figured if I was so sloppy at the start it was surely a good sign for her.  

Thinking I was successful, I reached a crossroads where there seemed to be bones going in every direction.  “Oh now I see why it was discounted!”  Instead of slicing my way through the meat as I done previously I now hacked at it.  I thought the knife was going break or I was going to lose a finger.  The chopping board banged on the counter with every pound of the knife. 

I looked down at the dog.  She looked up at me, collie ears at full attention waiting for pieces of pork to fly in her direction.  The pounding had also awakened both cats who were now sitting in the kitchen doorway.   They yawned sleepily “Did someone say Pork?”    I just shook my head at them , told the dog to “get the kitties” and went back to the chore.

I finished chopping, hacking  and slicing my way through the remaining discount and secured  it in the roaster.  It should be properly burned, err, cooked in 3 hours.  As for my fingers, I still have all nine of them:  just counted them.  Did you also know I wasn’t very good at math ?

Peace.

NEPB

Managing?

My Sweet helpful Mother purchased a subscription to a writer’s magazine. "Just for you" she said.  It’s full of helpful hints:  how to handle rejection, tips to writing fiction, and my favorite topic so far… making the most of your writing time.  For me, this is pure fiction.

I started this blog while my 3^rd grader was pleading loudly for me to sign her planner “Please do it NOW!” as she plopped a pile of school work on my desk.  I suppose the Earth was going to come to a complete stand still if I didn’t sign her planner at that very moment.   My high school age son announced at the same time he needed cash for the morning; I have none.  Wonderful, I will have to make a trip out for cash or rob my 3^rd graders piggy bank while she sleeps. Eek, Ben Bernanke should take lessons from her economic system.

I have been trying for 5 days,  yes 5 days to read  the article on how to manage my writing time.  I need the advice, the tips on planning; but holy cow, what good is an article on planning if you can’t find the time to read the article?  Something is always getting in the way, interrupting me. 

Of course I do need creative spirit to write; often these creative spirits visit me while I am sitting in line somewhere, watching a game from the side lines, in the office or simply in an awkward place.  I can’t get the ideas written down fast enough.

My life isn’t really that busy, it is just that interrupted. I long for the spirits of writing past, those days of endless time:  All time and no ideas.  Then there is today’s spirit of the present.  I spend 10 – 12 hours away from home for work.  Weeknights are filled with the usual drivel of the working woman with children and a social life. And then there is my SIO, I make sure to reserve time just for us.  It keeps the two of us sane.  Our discussions give me writing material and keep my sanity on track.  Maybe those of you who read this blog don’t think me that sane.  Imagine if he wasn’t a guiding force in my world!

And the writing spirit of the future?  The spirit of the future will be the one  that  motivates to finish my projects of past three years, get over my fears and get published.  I hope Mom’s brilliant idea of giving me this subscription will help inspire and guide me.

 For now I have to wind this up and read about the new math they are teaching in 3^rd grade.  Will I ever get the chance to read that article about managing my writing time?

Peace.

NEPB