Feeling a little more grateful today, especially since Steve has the day off, too. I saw that it was 11:11, and, as always, yelled, It’s 11:11 make a wish!

Steve: It’s 11:11 on 11/11/11!

Woot. So that was a very cool moment for our entire family, as we are geekier than geeky.

Grateful today for: Steve (who understands me, even as I’m being a baby and accusing him of not understanding me). The kids. Our three crazy cats. Nutella Cake (thank you Debi and Gabriele, you hazelnutty kids you), the new Rosie O’Donnell show on OWN (Phyllis Diller at 94, Mrs. Brady tells all, Debi Mazar!!! and a funny, funny interview w/ Turtle from Entourage), the weather (not too rainy, for an Oregon fall).

And last but certainly not least — I’m grateful for the Occupy movements that are happening all over the world, including our very own Portland, Oregon. To those of you who are calling names, saying that Occupy is a pack of dirty hippies, “They should get jobs! Dirty hippies!” etc. Here is my question: Do you have a job? Because I don’t. Not one that pays, anyway.

I have been the following, since 1998: unemployed, underemployed, half-time employed, on contract, and/or temp, with no benefits, or with inadequate benefits that I paid through the nose for, with a disappearing 401k that was tiny to begin with.

1998 was almost 14 years ago.

Meanwhile there are a lot of people in this country taking advantage of a bad situation, and bankrolling. In the spirit of my daughter’s first-grade teacher, they’re keeping all the Crayolas stashed in the cupboard and telling you to go buy your own. What Crayolas? We have no Crayolas here, close the cupboard! You are a loser if you can’t afford your own.

At the same time, there are a whole lot of people worse off than my family, believe me. We’re fine. Steve has a job, our medical insurance is all right (thank God, because we have chronic asthma and thyroid issues over here — no medical insurance is not an option). I didn’t “work” for years because it put us in the red, every time I did. (Paying for daycare, aftercare, beforecare.) Now that the kids are almost ready to solo… guess who’s rusty? My advice to mommies now: Don’t quit your job. Go in the red, pay for daycare, juggle your sked w/ your partner, other moms, family, roommates, whatever it takes, but don’t get off that treadmill, little hamster. Cuz once you do? Good luck getting back on.

I’m so grateful for my two kids — I love them to infinity and beyond. I don’t want them to have to make these kinds of decisions, when they’re older and perhaps having families of their own. Whose career to sacrifice. Deciding who’s got the “more important” job. Whose work is “less critical” when it comes to sick days, school holidays, spring break, etc. I don’t want them to be constantly in the red.

You want to know a secret? I like to work. I find it satisfying. I like being part of a team. I like a schedule, and wearing grown-up clothes. I really adore getting that paycheck every week or every other week or every 30 days. Whenever it shows up is fine with me. I just want it to show up.

I would like it if our country somehow found it in ’em to help pay for daycare, or subsidize it, or something, so we weren’t so desperate for a schedule, any schedule, and a fee schedule, along w/ it, that doesn’t kill us. I would like if the work of a teacher was valued in a monetary fashion. (I’ve also worked as a social worker, freelance writer/editor, and in a ton of clerical positions. Never the big bucks; once in awhile the “cool bucks” — but those don’t pay for groceries.)

I interviewed for several jobs this fall; didn’t get any offers. I actually had my hopes up for a job that was 1.5 hours a day (something, anything, to get my foot in the door). Didn’t get a call back. OK, that’s all right.

Saw the job posted again (it was actually three positions, all temp). They had reduced it to 1.2 hours per day. One point two. That’s what, an hour and 10 minutes a day? I can’t even count that low. (And it was clerical scale, so the hours weren’t the only thing low about it.) Didn’t get a call. So I remain “retired” and writing, hoping to sell some words, at least. It could happen.

Occupy, if you’re reading this? Thanks.

–nancy

Um. Grateful that I am never ever ever again going to give Abercrombie & Fitch any more of my family’s money. Boycott is on.

Here’s to that.

And this cup of coffee.

That’s all I got, peeps.

— nancy

Today I am grateful because this is post #1,902 for me! I’ve been blogging a long time now, dang. (Valentine’s Day will mark seven years of bloggin’ goodness here at Wacky House.)

It is nice to have a place to put it all — these posts have turned into virtual baby books for my kids; I’ve collected enough recipes now for a cookbook; all the ups and downs and hard days and happy days — all in one spot. But the coolest, most unexpected part of it all has been meeting the readers/bloggers/artists/community people over the years, through my writings and ramblings. With the exception of the occasional troll (or three ;), it has been really good to get to “meet” y’all. (Some of you I actually know from “real” life, so that is funny, and sometimes unexpected, too.) With Facebook, Google+, Twitter and everything else, readership is way down, but whatever. Some of you are still sticking with me. I never check my stats or incoming links any more. So I am not sure of the specifics, but like I said, whatever.

So thank you. On this cold, dark November night, from my part of the world (North America, USA, the Pacific Northwest, Oregon, Portland ‘burbs, specifically) to wherever you might be — thanks a bunch.

peace.

— nancy

Grateful for The Internets, because without them, I don’t know what we’d cook for dinner.

Vegetable soup, courtesy of Wil Wheaton.

Broiled cheddar, courtesy of Smitten Kitchen.

what are you feeling grateful for today? anything? nothing? leave me a note if you’d like.

— nancy

Today I’m grateful for the falling leaves. Our maple trees are almost bare now — I’ve filled and re-filled the yard debris bins about half a dozen times. Steve and the kids would have helped, if I had asked. But I kind of wanted to do it all by myself and use the time to meditate.

The small amount that was left today got swept out into the street. (Like how i put that into the passive voice? “The leaves found themselves swept into the street.” As if I had nothing to do with it.) I also put some under the burning bushes, to give the critters a place to hide out. (We’re reading “The Mouse and the Motorcycle” for the 2011/2012 Oregon Battle of the Books. It makes you eyeball life in a different way, thinking of it from a mouse and his boy’s point of view.)

In our former town, you could get old and wrinkled waiting for the street sweepers/leaf getters to come by. Out here, they stop by regularly. So I’m grateful for them, too. Thanks, dudes.

But mainly I’m happy today cuz I went to water aerobics, got coffee, stopped by the library and the store, then came home and worked on the leaves. I’m stretched out and relaxed now. it feels good. Am warmed up physically and mentally and now? I write.

have a superfine Monday.

— wm

I’m following the Lovely Laura’s lead here, and every day this month will post something I’m grateful for. It’s already the sixth, so I’d better catch up!

1st of November) As always, I am grateful for Steve and the kids.

2nd) Also grateful for our extended family and friends.

3rd) Grateful that the U.S. soldiers might come home from Iraq by end of the year. Please, oh please? I have been hoping for this for many years now. My son’s entire life, pretty much.

4th) Grateful that the entire house is clean. (thank you, moi. I love cleaning the house on Fridays so we can play on the weekend and get other stuff done.)

5th) Grateful that we ran to the mall, found the stuff my daughter needed for her band performance, and ran home. I remain relatively unscathed by the experience.

6th) Thank you, Daylight Savings Time. Really grateful for that extra hour this morning.

Whew, caught up!

— wm

“Beloved” (Toni Morrison) — I have tried, and failed, to read “Beloved” at least a half dozen times since it was released in 1987. “Song of Solomon” had a profound influence on my life when I read it for the first time, at age 18. “The Bluest Eye” is astounding, as well. But “Beloved” is the one that made everyone sit up and take notice of Morrison. All I could think was, About time. This time I won’t let it elude me.

“A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities That Arise in Disaster” (Rebecca Solnit) — I think I picked up this copy at church one Sunday. (We have a great bookstore — it’s one of the many reasons I feel at home at my church.) I’m reading it slowly; it’s tough going. But Solnit is a gifted reporter, and has a good ear for dialogue. I also appreciate the way she presents/interprets her stats/facts and weaves in history.

“Blue Nights” (Joan Didion) — Just finished this one. So painful to read, but I loved “The Year of Magical Thinking.” Loved this one, too. It’s written like a love poem to her late daughter, Quintana Roo Dunne Michael. I have always been devoted to Didion, but after these two books, she has my fierce and appreciative loyalty like never before. I hope she can find peace. She deserves that.

“How to Be an American Housewife” (Margaret Dilloway) — Wow. Great read. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. I kind of love it when that happens, don’t you? It’s the story of the struggles and challenges facing a Japanese woman who marries an American following World War II. It’s well-written, and the heroine grabs you by the collar and keeps you next to her, right from the first page. Highly recommended.

This is one of my favorite posts ever. My kids are getting too big for tricker treat now, but don’t you dare try to tell them so. They’ll cut ya.

More later…

wm

Not even kidding! My mom just finished reading my novel (finally, good God), and yes, the verdict is in and she likes it.

Thank you, Jeebus. This from the woman who never reads my blog. (“You still write your little blog?” Yes, I do, woman.)

So what more glowing recommendation do you need than that? Also, my sister thinks it’s great! (Yeah. You think I’m like, damning with faint praise or pointing out the obvious or something, but they love to read, and I drive them both a little “bonkers,” so for them to like my book? This is high praise. My entire life I’ve been shoving pages in their faces and yelling READ THIS RIGHT NOW! “Alright, already, calm the hell down, Sylvia.“)

(ps private note to my cousin and my father-in-law, who as far as I know are my sole family members who read The Blog… Hi, you guys! kiss kiss.) (My sister does read it sometimes, I think. Steve, too, but I think only because I follow him on Facebook and he feels “obligated.” Since FB and Twitter took off, I have about four readers total, I believe.) (Yeah, my daughter and son glance at the site once in awhile, but only to make sure they’re not mentioned. They’ve forbidden me to write about them here. Ever. Hi, you two. Mommy loves you!)

If you have a Kindle, buy yourself a copy. Gift one to a friend while you’re at it. If you don’t have a Kindle, go read the excerpt and maybe you’ll want to order a copy when we start printing ’em. (Steve is putting finishing touches on the tech stuff as I type this.) We’re working with Create Space on Amazon — will keep you posted as we battle through our latest tech-geek adventure. (Thanks, Stevie. Sorry you haven’t had any weekends off in… uh… a long time.)

Will it be on the Nook? Who knows. We’re trying. But Amazon and Barnes & Noble don’t seem to groove that well with each other at the moment, do they now? (understatement of century.)

Apparently some of the snobbier book critics out there refuse to read/review any books that are self-published. Well, how are they going to enjoy my fine book if they stick to this rule? I’ve never peed in anyone’s pool in my life, thank you very much. Well, there was that time when I was 6, but hello! I was 6!

It’s not like I haven’t tried to get an agent/publisher — I have. For years. If I wrote books whose covers were illustrated with high heels, champagne glasses, baby bottles and binkies, I think I’d have a better shot. But you know what? As much as I love that genre (“jenner,” as my late friend Milly called it. “I love that jenner!”), it’s not my style. My stuff is a little… dark. Funny. Intense. Creepy. I cut to the bone. What’s wrong with that? I made a deal with myself, when I was a really little kid, that I would only write stuff that was no bullshit. Cut to the chase. The bone, if necessary.

I was furious, senior year in high school, because this stellar essay I wrote was “too personal,” according to my English teacher. Imagine.

(How did I know it was stellar? My teacher told me.) He wouldn’t let me read it aloud at an event they had on campus. I was one of three students whose work was entered in a contest for the National Council of Teachers of English. They were allegedly honoring us. Well, not all of us. Yeah, it was a big deal and all. Except if you were me.

You know who got the glory? A guy who wrote a story that was a complete and total rip-off of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner, right down to the stinkin’ albatross. Where is the justice? (That was me, walking home from school, waving my fists at the heavens.) That’s called plagiarism, ya idiots!

You know the only reason “Confederacy of Dunces” was published? The author, the brilliant and misunderstood John Kennedy Toole, took his own life. He was depressed over his book not getting published, that’s why. Some idiot editor told him it had no point. If you haven’t read “Confederacy of Dunces,” you need to read a copy of that, too. You will see that it is A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. (One of my favorite book titles of all-time, btw.)

Kennedy’s mom, Thelma Toole, went a little crazy, herself, after her son died. She was determined as hell to get his book published. “Each time it came back I died a little,” she said, about the numerous rejections she received. Finally, she barged into the office of writer Walker Percy, who was then a prof at Loyola University New Orleans. He was a little concerned that she was apeshit, because, you know. She was.

But then, guess what? He read the book. He fell in love with it. And he helped to get it published.

See how important mothers are?

Also, if Toole had been able to self-publish as easily as we can nowadays, maybe he would have stuck around to write some more books. That would have been nice, but like they say in Texas, que sera sera.

Now go read my stuff and pssst… pass it on.

xoxoxox

wm

Michael: “And you finished off the whole bottle?”

Michael: “I think that’s another of mom’s fibs, like ‘I’ll sacrifice anything for my children.'”