Wordless Wednesday 12: And so it begins...Again.

  

 

 

 

 

Wordless Wednesday 7: The ART of punishment...

Of Planning and Doing

When day 15 of NaBloPoMo arrives at 4:30 a.m. to the sound of visiting family shuffling about in preparation for departure, it is a sign of a long day to come (despite going back to bed for an hour and a half).

I'm now three cups into my day and it is failing to inspire - so that means it's time to break out the pumpkin pie.

With whipped cream.

Maybe LOTS of whipped cream.

I kid about eating pumpkin pie for breakfast. {no she's not}

And I'm not really drinking my 4th cup of coffee. {yes she is}

And my fingers are not conspiring against me by typing truths in scrolly pink brackets. So if you see any of those, ignore them. {it's a cry for help people, she needs more pie and whipped cream}

It's possible my stomach is in cahoots. {duh, ya think?}

During the first week of this NaBloPoMo experiment I read some great advice about creating an editorial calendar. And, once I found out what the hell it was, it sounded like a very neato-keeno idea.

Skip ahead to week 2 and Hubbypants, in reply to my complaint about finding something to write about, says I should plan out my topics for the rest of the month.

"It's called an editorial calendar," I say, "and I've already thought about it". {she said it like she didn't just learn it a week before - all smarty-pants-know-it-all-like}

I'd like to take a moment to warn my mutinous fingers that I do have a delete button. Just sayin! {pfft, and how are you gonna "delete" stuff? With your toes? You NEED us.}

Cheeky things, those fingers.

So, here I am half way and I have no calendar of blog topics to get me through the next 15 days.

When the subject of an editorial calendar came up, I will admit to thinking of it as a tool for real bloggers and real writers. It isn't something a Dabbler would need.

The fault in this logic, as is typical of me, is that there ARE people who read my daily musings and they would probably like to read something as opposed to nothing...or even nothing about something as opposed to nothing about nothing.

Wow! Did you see that? My train of thought used my ear as an exit to escape my logic and is probably half way to Belize by now.

Where the heck was I going with this?

Oh...right...Planning, Organizing and Building Foundations.

Meaning - taking steps to write down ideas, jotting them on the calendar and then, possibly, stringing letters and words together to form a blog post.

I know NOW that *most* writers plan. I realize NOW that the majority of bloggers do not wake up each morning and wait for the coffee and pumpkin pie to ignite a spark of inspiration on some topic and then viola*wham*bam*thank*ya*mam, a post is born.

I DO realize it doesn't work that way.

I just wish it did. {Because Ms. Piggy wants pumpkin pie every morning}

*whispers* Fingers that don't want to spend the day doing dishes without gloves should think carefully before name calling* {people that don't want their ass expanding should put down the fork and step away from the pie} I wonder if anyone else finds these dual conversations between Myself and I a little disturbing? {no comment}

Anywhooo...I'd do all that planning and organizing stuff if wasn't so boring and I didn't draw a complete blank every time I sit down to do it. Perhaps it is boring because of the blankness? Hmmm....

Organization has been swirling around in my head because I feel as if I need to move forward and onward with certain things in my life that I cannot accomplish willy-nilly.

I often wonder what I could say and how well I could say it if I spent time writing with the notion that I was actually doing so as a writer vs. a person with too much time on my hands. What if, for giggle sake, I were to plan and research and edit as if I were submitting for publication beyond this blog?

I really do think that. Often actually. Which leads to full and complete melt down and something chocolaty drizzled over my pumpkin pie to be washed down with more coffee.

Thank you, NaBloPoMo for forcing me to dive into these thoughts, sort them out (hopefully) and the need to go shopping for stretchy pants.

Answer me this, if you please:

IF you are a blogger, do you keep an editorial calendar (even if it is just a guide)?

How do you come up with your blogging ideas

(just by waking up or serious contemplation)?

My hope is that by finding my inner organized self that I'll avoid letting opportunities pass me by. Such as: I was recently approached via Twitter to *possibly* have my Super Powers blog post syndicated on a blogging network site. The tweet was 4 days old when I saw it - I had failed to reply in a timely manner and will, very likely, not hear from this person again.

My loss at not being Twitter savvy.

While I am sad that this opportunity *may* have passed, I am flattered beyond blushing that this editor even read my post AND that she took the time to contact me. Indeed a great feeling.

Now that I've spent my entire morning writing, it is time to move on and accomplish other important tasks. {Don't let her fool you, she's just going to stalk people on Facebook}

Among those tasks will be to teach my fingers a lesson on how sarcasm can backfire - time to clean the toilets - With.Out.Gloves. {doh...eww}

Peace Out!

p.s.
Today's post is brought to you by Starbucks French Roast and homemade pumpkin pie.

p.s.s.
I should've probably skipped that last cup of coffee

p.s.s.s.
Did we just have an earthquake? Why is the room spinning?

p.s.s.s.s.
{Cleaning toilets without gloves is like cutting off your nose to spite your face}
Hmmm...true, we'll have the kids clean the toilets and I'll torture my fingers with ugly nail polish.
{Oy, there she goes again}
What?

p.s.s.s.s.s.
What the hell does "p.s." really mean? And is it "p.s.s." or is it "p.p.s" or....?

How I got my super powers.

That was me, one year ago.

I kid you not.

What a hoot that was! {not really}

November 10, 2010 was the day I got my super powers.

The doctor didn't use those words specifically, but I knew what she meant. I think the conversation was more like, "The best way to make sure we've removed all of the thyroid cancer is to do the follow-up RAI (radioactive iodine) treatment."

But I heard, "Now that you are cured and have that nifty scar, we're going to make you a super hero."

She probably meant to say, "or villain", too.

I'm sort of waiting until my powers fully develop to see whether I'll be fighting for The Good or The Naughty.

The whole transformation would have been A.W.E.S.O.M.E. if I hadn't needed to follow the LID (Low Iodine Diet). The list of things I could not eat are too numerous and typing them will make my fingers bleed. But, the diet was necessary and I'm only telling you this so that you can feel sorry for me and say, "You poor thing, you mean NO creamer in your coffee for TWO. WHOLE. WEEKS?"

I know!!!!

So, scan day arrives and I go to the hospital Information Desk and say to Sparky the Volunteer, "Can you direct me to the Super Hero Transformation Clinic?"

Blank Stare -"Excuse me?" says Sparky the Volunteer.

Ya know, those volunteers are so nice, but they are old and a bit hard of hearing. So, I say: "I'm here for radio-active treatment to get my super powers. Do I get a menu of the super power options?"

Sparky the Volunteer just sort of stared at me for a blink or two and then said, "Oh, you must want Nuclear Medicine. It's in the basement."

I think he said that for the benefit of anyone who might have been eavesdropping. We can't have the general public knowing where Super Hero's get their groove now can we. Basement = Justice League Headquarters Type Place and Nuclear Medicine = Transformation Clinic...like, duh.

Hubbypants and I take the elevator with the common folk - if they only knew. It's a good thing they didn't though, since I was without a pen to sign autographs and stuff.

The day before I had swallowed a small dose of some radioactive something or other that the remaining thyroid tissue in my body sucked up (because, it had been starved of iodine for 14 days) and which would light up my innards like a Christmas tree. The nurse just stared at me when I asked about presents. Pfft...not even a Starbucks card. And boy, these Hospital people aren't very swift and do a whole lot of creepy staring. I wonder if they are remote controlled robots? Ooo...wouldn't that be cool!

The Nursebot had me lay on the impossibly narrow scanner bed in some nauseating position (no really, I was nauseous for hours after) and wait 40 minutes for the panel to travel from my head to my feet. I'm not going to describe the scan - I'll just say that twice in my lifetime is plenty, thankyouverymuch.

The results of the scan lead the doctor on duty to suggested going through with the full RAI treatment, because...apparently...there was still a bit of cancer lurking in a lymph node. I was a bit taken aback, since I thought my super powers were a done deal. I had a choice? And, I’m still waiting on that menu.

Needless to say, I went through with it...took the whole 'glow in the dark' dose. Weeeeee

Now the REAL fun begins!

The Nursebot, wearing a lead vest, uses tongs and gloves to move a lead container (delivered in a special box, by a special carrier person) into a larger lead box with a plexi shield. Me - I'm just sitting in the chair. NO lead protection for MY ass. And this pill that she's handling with all the protective equipment??...did I mention it is going INSIDE me...via my mouth, as in swallowing this pill o' death?

Well, now you know.

Prior to this I'd been given a large class of water, signed all the paperwork and completed all business with them. I'll tell you why...

Nursebot proceeds to give me the pill by dumping it from lead container into my hand, I'm to pop it, swallow it and then get the fuck out of Dodge.

O.k. they were not that rude, but the instructions were to leave the hospital immediately, not to ride the elevator with anyone else, not to ride in the front seat next to my husband - I'm sure that if it had been an option, they would have suggested strapping me on top of the car. I was NOT to make ANY stops - GO STRAIGHT HOME - and then sit all by myself in a room far, far away from everyone. For 3 days and nights.

What a strange and bizarre feeling to be so contaminated that you cannot go near anyone for fear of over exposing them to radiation. No kissing. No hugging. No nooky. No sharing utensils. No sharing toilets or sinks or plates or...It isn't like they'll spontaneously combust or anything, but you don't want to screw up the future reproductive options of your children. Or worse, increase their risk of cancer.

To make this fun fest even better!! I was to remain on the LID another day to ensure that the radioactive iodine was completely absorbed by any remaining thyroid tissue. There is a whole science behind this that I've left out, because you really don't care. But after the whole procedure the thought of one more day of black coffee was enough to make me cry.

Fast forward a week (and LOTS of over indulging in formerly forbidden food) a friend brings over a Geiger counter. Yes, one of those things they use to detect nuclear activity/traces/whatever. Nothing like a body full of toxic iodine to make that sucker sing. I must say, it was wicked cool to set off a Geiger. Once. I don't really ever want to do it again. Ever.

So, after being cut open and poisoned, I'm STILL waiting to see what mystery super power I was given. I tell you one thing, I'm NOT jumping off the house again until I'm SURE I can really fly. Good thing we planted those bushes where we did. I won't be stopping any speeding bullets or racing any locomotives yet either. Some lessons you only need to learn once.

There must be some sort of grace period to these powers of mine, like I can't use them for a year or something? And if that's the case, then tomorrow I should be Golden...and maybe even making headlines.

Well, if my powers lean toward good and I save your ass from some fatal fatality, then...you're welcome. But, if the tide goes the other way, well...sometimes a gal just has to get her naughty on, ya know? My apologies in advance.

Thanks for taking this trip down memory lane with me, I need to go shopping now for my super hero outfit - Cape & Tiara are at the top of the list.

Peace!

Wordless Wednesday 6: Being Green(ish)