August 18th Morning Pages

Nice storm here this morning… I actually love thunderstorms.  I love the sound, the smell, that electric excitement in the air.  This one was, actually, nice… a pleasant little storm that kept its roars in the distance.  We don’t get to many bad ones here.  I suppose I wouldn’t be too crazy about storms if we were prone to damage and destructions or if we were in tornado alley but we live in a place where one can be a bit more romantic about them… where they feel like stories telling themselves, passing in the distance like harmless ghosts from another life.  You can watch them and dream about adventures you’ll never take (that you don’t want to take) and feel as if you’re living.  

On the other hand, there’s a life I don’t want to live, a life I only want to dream about.  I would never really want to go foraging through the jungles of Africa.  I hate bugs and I hate being uncomfortable.  But it’s fun to think about existing in that Tarzan world.  I’m too old and weak and probably a little too heavy to go swinging around on vines (can people REALLY do that anyway) but it’s fun to imagine doing.  Mr. Rogers had a great thing going with that imagination world but I don’t think mine would be quite as timid as where his trolley went.  I think mine would go in much more dangerous and frankly, darker places.  I love monster stories and scary things, ghosts, goblins, vampires (not Edward Cullen) zombies and stuff like that.  I like anything scary that couldn’t really be.  I don’t like stuff where actual people hurt actual people.  I love stories where actual people come together to overcome evil.  Lots of Stephen King stories are like that which is why I’ve always loved those and, sure, a lot of his characters come to a bad end, but usually the hero prevails (although his heroes are generally “heroes.”)

On a totally different subject, I’m teaching Sunday School for the first time today.  I’ve been assistant at about five or six of them now but that’s not many so I don’t really feel equipped to do this.  Nevertheless, I’m doing it.  We have a real shortage of teachers right at the moment due to summer.  That means also that we have a shortage of students (thank you God) so my husband and I are doing double duty, teaching at 9am and at 11am both.  

I’m still going back and forth on whether to do morning pages in OD or in card diary (which is on my ipad only).  Part of me thinks maybe back and forth.  Yesterday I did morning pages in card diary only.  Today these morning pages seem suitable and fashioned for OD.  I’m not sure I want to spend $3.99 a month for that, though.  What do I do?  I hate decisions.  I already spend $5 a month for Duotrope and I haven’t really been using it much because I haven’t spent enough time revising my stories.  Maybe I should cancel that for now.  It hasn’t done me a whole bunch of good to be honest.  I have, however, gotten paying publications from them (along with non-paying ones) so maybe I should keep it.  Again, decisions.  

Oooh… just got a BIG crack of lightning and huge thunder.  One of those ones that makes your heart skip a beat.  Thunderstorm announcing itself.  “Don’t think I wasn’t coming your way after all!”  Man, it smells so good, though!  That lightning cleans the air I think.  Part of the smell of petrichor (look it up if you don’t know the word – it’s a good one to have in your word stable, it describes that particular scent in the air when it rains, is about to rain, or right after it rains… if you look it up, it will explain exactly why it smells that way).  And now we have the rush of the water from the sky, like a giant encompassing waterfall.  A Niigata all around us…heavier and heavier.  Yikes! More lightning, more thunder and the buzz of my ipad and iPhone informing me that there is danger in the air.  Thanks loads.  My wind chimes are whipping up and the dog’s head is perking but she’s not one of those scaredy dogs, already she’s assessed the situation and curled back up for her nap.  

The tree outside my window is whipping a bit and I hear a car door slam and the car start.  Whew, I’m glad we don’t have to leave for church yet (actually we should be going now but my husband is late to everything so he isn’t even dressed yet.) Frustrating?  You bet.

The storm outside is beginning… just beginning to wane, but the one in me is beginning to just kick up a little dust because I get so tired of having to say, “Hey, Hon, we have to leave soon,” and hearing him say in an annoyed voice, “Okay,” as if being on time is an imposition to him.

He is, of course, famous for his lateness yet says to the family that’s how he “used to be.”  And he used to be extraordinarily late… late by hours!  Now he is late by 15 minutes, 1/2 hours. To him, I guess, that is not late.  To us, that is late.  He shrugs and we feel unheard and if we say anything more, he gets aggressive (best defense is a good offense).  We have taken to telling him that the time we’re supposed to be someplace is 1/2 hour earlier than it really is, that way we’ll get there on time.  It is one of only a few flaws he has, but it’s a tiring, sometimes embarrassing, and always hurtful, frustrating flaw.

Well, I’m going to go.

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