Michiko in her comment, when I said my son was enjoying Japan, said she didn’t realize I had a son. I thought how I keep my personal life personal -except every now and then something may slip, or I will share something that has happened – as when my beautiful Old Girl Kayla died (when I wrote that, I looked up at the painting with her on the porch – still miss my old girl). But, I don’t say much about myself that doesn’t pertain to my writing/editing or something immediate in my life.
So, although I can’t imagine anyone is interested, but:
Yes, Michiko, I have a son; my only child. He lives in Oregon. I’m proud of him…he’s turned into a fine young man and is dating a wonderful girl with a really great Italian family. I’m proud of him, and her. I miss him because he’s so far away. I’d kick the ass of anyone who hurt him. He’s too intelligent for his own good sometimes, but I grin as I write that–a proud mother’s grin. My husband has three children, but I don’t think of myself as their stepmother – they were older when we married and never lived with us. I like them; they are fine children, but I do not feel like their mother. I’d do anything for them if they asked and I was able to do it. I’d protect them if they needed protecting, and I’d kick anyone’s asses if they hurt them. I am proud of their accomplishments…hmm, maybe in some ways I do feel like their "mother."
I love full moons and instead of making me crazy, they make me sane. I am weird like that.
I have four brothers, but David died in 1994 and I never got over it; none of us ever got over it; you do not "Get Over It…" it only becomes less acute by distance of time (except for times when it becomes acute again).
I love watching The Office. I quit watching ER two or so years ago, because they lost their interesting characters and went shallow. I watch Discovery Channel and Science Channel and I adore Neil deGrasse Tyson and M. Kaku. I quit watching Lost after the second season for all kinds of reasons.
I am shy, but like other shy people, I hide it by doing things shy people do to hide they are shy.
I didn’t have good women friends until I was in my 40’s and when I found them, or they found me, or we found each other, I knew I’d found the best damned friends in the world–it was worth the wait. They are beautiful and gifted and talented and unique and they love me and I love them…I’ve since widened that circle of friends and they know who they are.
I eat a piece of dark chocolate almost every day. I hate parsnips so much I curl my lip as I write "parsnips." I adore cheesecake. No Fat mayonnaise is an abomination.
I was adopted by my mother when I was a young girl – I had lived with her and my father since I was 3 1/2ish. Most of my biological family lives in West Virginia.
I love Boston Terriers and one day will have another one. I cried when my friend’s Darla died – cried for her, and cried because I missed my Boston Terrier from years ago, and cried because I loved Miss Darla and even named a character after her in my VK book.
I can’t stand sugar or salt or grittiness on my bare feet. I don’t like bare feet touching me. Really, I do not.
Sometimes my nightmares scare the hell out of me and make me think I am insane. Sometimes my dreams facinate me and make me think I’m not so bad. Sometimes between wake and sleep I hear laughter, or crying, or names called, or once I saw a shadow of a girl in a bonnet, and I saw the Shadow Man watching me but without malice. Sometimes I dream things and wake feeling as if I am supposed to KNOW something as if someone or something is trying to get me to receive a message and I just don’t get it…and then I feel insane again.
I watch Food Network less and less and Green Planet TV more and more.
My novel character Virginia Kate is derived from my name "Mary Kathryn," my bio mom’s name Katherine Sue, and my adoptive mother’s name "Ruth Virginia" together…we three women are the heart of fiction story that isn’t about us, not really…but more about Women and Secrets and Lies and Hope and Love.
The Virginia Kate Novel (From a Mountain Rising) has secret codes in it – whispered secrets that no one will know but me; or sometimes, some will know just what I meant. It is so full of secrets that when the book is published and when the reader opens it, ghosts may fly out, but do not be afraid, for they will just fly out and whisper all the secrets on the wind and be freed – each time you open the book – when it is at last published – you are freeing the Secrets…and I will thank you, and they will thank you. Spells will be broken and spirits will be freed.
When I was a little girl, I used to eat dirt. I once filled a cake box full of it and proceeded to eat it. Years later, I recently wrote a story about a girl who ate some dirt from a cake mix box, but it was not me. I do not eat much meat anymore. But, I never eat veal, or lamb – and never ever Pork from those beautiful smart pigs. I love soup. I hate to eat reptiles or amphibians, or octopus, or squid, or raw oysters because it gives me the "eyewwss." But, I wish I had a cinnamon bun right now. I had to write cinnamon three times because it looked weird so I googled it and realized I had it right.
I have never met my maternal or paternal grandfathers, ever.
As I write all this, I become nervous. Exposing myself. I consider deleting some of it. I think to go back and make sure I haven’t said "too much." You will never know if I did delete or if I did not.
I wonder right now who is reading this or if they are bored as they probably are at my ramblings, and why some people do not stop and leave a message and then again I sometimes visit places and do not leave a message and I wonder about all kinds of things – I am a wondering woman, a wandering woman, a waiting woman.
The title of my original Virginia Kate novel was "The Waiting" until I googled it. Then it was "The Waiting Woman." Then, it was so very different from what it is now. I recognize with clarity that the original may have published faster, but then, it would not be Virginia Kate, it would be someone else. I will still tell that Waiting Woman’s story – very soon. soon…it is not my story, even though I called myself a waiting woman. Arent’ we all?
I am where I am supposed to be, right here right now – but I am far from some of those I’d like to be close to right here right now.
I am boring everyone, including myself. I will go now.
Tomorrow, I will be backon my schedule – since I have come to kind of sort of like my schedule.