The Not-Quite Midnight Post

When I write posts this late at night, I sort of feel like I’m doing something wrong.  Plus, I’m sure  my brain isn’t working at optimal levels and, therefore, will make a Freudian slip of a typo into my blog post.

Nearly everyone is a-sleeping in the House of Allan at the moment, except me and the Paper Planes song that I just “liked” on my Pandora station. Three in their bunk beds, one on the couch while trying to finish the remains of the Walking Dead marathon, and one right next to me, after she killed her Christmas Squirrel.

christmas squirrel

Her ear is red because we are having a bit of an ear mite issue. I say “we” because it is not just the dog who this is affecting. Someone has to do the flushing out of all the nasties, the squishing of the cotton balls down the ear canal, and the dodging of the juices that fling out of said ear after the obligatory doggie head shake. These are VERY important tasks!

I’ve never loved a dog so much, not even the one I grew up with as a child. It’s tough to admit loving a dog after so many years of really almost hating them.

On the slightly less cheesy front, I have applied for a North Dakota teaching license. This is a huge deal for me for a few reasons. First and foremost this means that I may be in ND for another year, and I’m opposed to it, at best. The winter is very…wintry. I mean, I’m from Colorado and have had plenty of winter experiences, but I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me. Maybe I’m being a wuss or something, but it’s just winter here, winter there, winter everywhere. It has thrown up on me, it seems. It’s constantly snowing and cold and there’s no sun but terrible dry skin and wind and ice and bad drivers. Never in my life have I yearned for summer so dang hard.

The second reason that the teaching licensure is a huge deal for me is because I haven’t taught in a classroom in years. I’ve closed off that part of my mind for long and opening it up recently was like climbing into a dusty attic in the middle of the night after watching The Conjuring by myself. There’s nothing up there that I recognized and I kept expecting something to jump out at me and I just wanted to lock the door with a deadbolt and hide under the covers. But it’s healthy to do things that freak us the bleep out and so I’m doing it, dang it.

It’s also the reason why I’m up at nearly midnight writing a blog post. I can’t sleep. I see little people.

Tomorrow is a big day for me. I recently finished writing another book this past summer/fall and decided to take a mini holiday/brain break from the manuscript while the children are out of school. But tomorrow they go back. This means I have to dive into the thing again and make it sparkle and shine before I hit up agents with it. But I’m super stoked about this story and have had some glowing criticisms from my critique partners and beta readers. Thank you all so very, very much! Muah!

On the personal side, I know some things will happen this year which will be very, very horrible and I tend to do this thing where I pretend everything is peachy keen fine until it totally is NOT and then there’s nothing for me to do about it. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism.Or maybe it’s just a really bad personality trait. I don’t know.

But I digress, because that is what I do with the horrible. I say, hey, look at that thing over there! It’s not interesting nor noteworthy, but at least it isn’t HORRIBLE! Let’s have a conversation about that!

And then I turn on this song:


And for a few minutes I’m distracted. Then a member of my gaggle of boys needs me to make him a snack/pull a popcorn kernel from his nose/spell a word/wash the shart from his undies and I forget for a little while longer. But it’s always there, this black and creeping feeling that sneaks up on me in the dead of night, between the pages of a magazine, during the St. Jude’s commercials, and on the car trip to the grocery store. It finds me when times are quiet so I keep my world loud. But, I know, I will have to face this horribleness someday and I DON’T WANNA.

I want to eat flaming hot Cheetos and drink homemade root beer and watch Despicable Me 2 for the millionth time and avoid what is going to happen. But it will happen, folks. Life happens and, even if we ignore it, it’s waiting for us. Holding opening it’s skeletal claws, beckoning.

The last thing I want to do is leave you with a depressing feeling at the end of this post, so here’s a kitten in a weird hat:


Hope that helps.


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