Four Minutes at Every Day Fiction

New story published – it’s a bit outside my usual work as it isn’t genre but I like to stretch my wings sometimes.

Read it here: Every Day Fiction

Going back can be going forward

Going back can be the same as going forward sometimes. I’m having one of those moments right now, in the best way possible.

When I was little, my mom liked to make things. She made soap and candles, knew what kind of plants fixed things, bottled pretty vinegars up and all those sorts of things. In part, some of that was because our health insurance wasn’t great and only used for big things like flipping over the handlebars of a bicycle and splitting open your face (true story!). In part, it was because she knew how and wanted me to. After she passed, I didn’t make stuff for a long time but after meeting my husband, the first Christmas presents I did for his mom, were bath things I made, just the way my mom taught me. I’ve done some of that over the years for people here and there and for myself but I never gave it much thought otherwise.

Until I did.

I’m doing some restructuring of my crafty things and taking some classes, getting some certifications, and remembering all the things I’d forgotten. I’ll still have some of the neat things I like to make but The Crow and Dragon is going to be shifting a bit into bath and body (and maybe a bit more for local events) and herbal things more than whatever weird thing I feel like making (though there will still be that too, just not as much). I’m having fun making things again and, I’ll be honest, it doesn’t hurt my hands or fingers to make healing, smell-good things like it does to paint.

That’s not to say there won’t still be writing. I can’t not write. Not writing makes me a very irritable me so, there will always be writing. There will always be new books and stories and articles  (I even have some news that’s not quite ready to be shared), but this is a thing I can do, like to do, and am halfway good at it and I feel the need now more than ever before, especially with the increased cost of my medical stuff and sundries, to be a more productive member of my household.

Most of it will likely stay a bit more local as the market for these sorts of things is pretty saturated but less so locally, at least at the events I did before (and am hoping to do again). I’ll have most of it available in my etsy shop because it never hurts to do that but my focus is a little more local to start with. Unfortunately, the things I’m most excited to start making, I can’t yet because the main ingredients aren’t growing yet! I’m not really a patient person but I think this whole adventure might just teach me to be. Very few things are as slow as plants. Of course, certain people who love to brush off anything and everything that I do, immediately reminded me that I’m bad at plants and I’m not my mother – she was the plant person. They’re not wrong, she was and I am but you don’t have to be good at plants to know what they’re good for and especially not when your goal is wild crafting not farming.

Decluttering and the story of the book

I am deep into day four of a serious declutter – finally getting rid of things I should have gotten rid of 20 years ago. Today, it’s all about the books. Two 3.5 foot tall book shelves, crammed 3 books deep on each of three shelves a piece. Most of which I’ve read, some of them I’ll never read again, and some of them have deeply sentimental value. Today, I want to tell you about one such book. I may never read it but I don’t think I could bear to let it go. Someday, one of my kids will look at it and wonder why on earth I have it and probably get rid of it then but it won’t be me.

My parents had a pretty easy divorce, all things considered. They didn’t work well together as they were far too much alike but they co-parented pretty well (perhaps in part because my dad pretty well went along with whatever my mom wanted). There was only one thing they bickered over and it wasn’t me. It was a book by Zig Ziglar, hardcover with a dust jacket worn and yellowed, the corners dulled and softened. At first, my dad had it. I clearly remember it being at his place. I don’t know when it made its way to Mom’s house but it did. It disappeared again the day the jam exploded in the kitchen and reappeared at Dad’s. And back and forth until my mom moved to the other side of the country. The way I remember it, she filched it back again when we were stopped over at his and my stepmom’s house to say goodbye before trekking across the country.

Over the next few years, Dad asked twice for me to bring the book with me when I came to visit but I had no idea where to even begin to look for it. After she died, it was never a thing that occurred to me to find. It did arrive at my house in a box from my grandmother and the next time my dad came to visit he spotted it nearly immediately and started laughing as he told me the story I didn’t know about the book.

Both of my parents believed they had purchased the book before they met the other. Both of my parents were probably right and the extra one vanished the way doubles do when you get married. When they split, it was about the only thing they couldn’t agree on. It wasn’t really a point of contention after the first few months, in fact, it mostly felt like a game they played. If they’d never married, I wouldn’t be here, but I think they would have stayed great friends. Now that they’re both gone, I don’t think I could part with the worn out old book.

I am, however, parting with a whole lot of other things. Like clothes I’ve had since high school, 100 some pounds ago… Yeah, pity my poor husband who somehow ended up with a sentimental old dragon.

Crazy Crow Lady

I’m pretty sure that’s how anyone who was at the panel on Thursday thinks of me… Which, there are worse things, especially given how badly I flubbed the speaking portion of the evening. My dad is somewhere hanging his head at my lack of public speaking skills – totally not his fault, he really did try and impart all his wisdom but I don’t think there’s ever going to be enough wisdom to counter that blurred edges tunnel vision that happens when I try to say words to groups – and there were only 20 – 25 or so, it’s not like this was a convention center. This was a Barnes and Noble on a rainy night in winter.

It is what it is though and I did meet some interesting to people and yes, ended up talking about my crows.

After the fact, I know what I should have said and how I should have said it – isn’t that always the way? At least the Q&A section went better for me – at least in that I can, in fact, speak in coherent sentences (even if at least half of them contained crows). Hopefully, I’ll get the chance to do it again one day and prove, if only to myself, that I can.

In other news: I’m flexing my crafty wings a bit with some new things that are very exciting for me but still in the learning, training, testing phases. It’s less new things than it is a throwback to my younger years, crafting with my mom, and making something that there might be a market for locally (on the internet, it’s probably pretty over-saturated but there are benefits to doing local vendor events). Fingers crossed.

Magical Moments: Romance Author Panel

Romance Author Panel

If you’re in the Pittsburgh area (or Ohio Valley) and can come out to the Settler’s Ridge Barnes and Noble in Robinson, please do – I’d love to say hello!

I’ll have Hunter’s Crossing, Eldercynne Rising, and Christmas in Bear Ridge with me. My understanding is that I’ll get to talk too so hopefully I manage to not trip over my tongue too much.

Health Updates

RA Awareness Day

Apparently, today is Rheumatoid awareness day. That wasn’t the reason for the post but a happy little coincidence. I’ve been struggling a little bit lately, or a lot. I’m perfectly fine if I sit on my couch and do nothing but I’m pretty tired of that. At my last rheumatologist appointment, we discussed the options and decided on adding Xeljanz to my methotrexate and nortriptyline. That took some doing though – I had to get some new blood work done, insurance had to approve the idea, and apparently, my pharmacy had to get permission to dispense it? At the end of the day, everything got approved and I’ve got my pills. Which is, I’m pretty sure, the most expensive thing I will ever have in my life.

I would be so screwed if my amazing husband didn’t have a job with really good benefits and excellent insurance. I would not be able to justify the expense of living without hurting. So far, it’s not doing much. I had one great day which I think might have been a little bit of a placebo effect thing going. My understanding is that it can take up to 3 months to really know if it’s going to be successful. Fingers crossed because I really don’t want to give myself a shot and that’s the next best option, if this doesn’t work.

The heated throw I picked up has helped a lot. And my compression gloves. And my cane. I’m really looking forward to being able to do normal stuff again! Today wasn’t too bad but I made lemon bars – any day in which there are lemon bars is a good day. Lemon bars, lemon tarts, lemon cake are probably my favorite things and these particular bars were made with lemons from my husband’s cousin’s trees and that makes them all that much more special.