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Thursday, January 27, 2005Someone Poured Cement Into My Brain -- And It's Hardened
That's about as accurate a metaphor as I could come up with. "Oatmeal" doesn't quite cut it, because, if you soak it long enough in hot water, oatmeal DOES soften to the point where you can scrape it out of the unfortunate pan. There is no scraping my brain. It has solidified. I'm going to have to remedy this quickly, though. I have a lot to do. It's all "good stuff," really. I'm excitedly preparing for my first teleseminar for at-home moms. I'm continuing to work on my second fantasy novel as well as my Ezine articles. All that, and it comes second in line to my number one job, which is MOM. So my problem is.....I can't seem to organize my thoughts enough to make myself a schedule. Wonderful ideas keep floating around in my head -- things like, "I'll work on my Ezine on Monday and Fridays!" and, "I'm going to make a to-do list for my teleseminar preparation." And on I go. Except the "good stuff" in my head doesn't happen. I'm especially cement-brained today because of a night of interrupted sleep. No, it wasn't young children who continually broke my slumber -- it was my snorting husband. Notice that I said, "snorting," not "snoring." Sometimes he snores, yes.....but last night he was SNORTING. They were intermittent snorts, and each one was perfectly timed so that it exploded into my eardrums at the precise moment I had drifted off to sleep again. After several such pulse-jarring moments, I roughly grabbed my beloved spouse by the shoulder and shook him until his eyes rattled. The poor guy had the most ridiculously idiotic expression on his face; not only did he have no idea why I was shaking him, but he had just been awakened from the depths of a slumber that his wife had not yet experienced on this particular night. "Can you please take something?" I snapped. Eric did not respond. He did not know what I wanted him to take. "You're snorting," I continued. "Are you congested or something?" A vague realization that he had somehow disturbed me crept into Eric's consciousness. Instead of "taking something," though, he rolled over. Toward me. Now, this was most annoying, because I usually want him to roll AWAY from me when he is making ridiculous nose noises. Except that he had already been facing away from me when the snorting started. Fortunately, the change of position did, indeed, stop the snorting. I, of course, took forever to fall back to sleep because I had allowed myself to become so irritated. Poor Eric. How does he stand me? So now I'm faced with a wonderfully free afternoon, just perfect for getting all sorts of work accomplished while my children happily amuse themselves elsewhere. And here I sit, unable to put two coherent thoughts together. And there's no Coke in the house, either. Stick with me, though. If you're a SAHM or WAHM, this teleseminar is going to be something you won't want to miss! (I'll have to ask Eric to sleep somewhere else the night before the teleseminar, though, so that I can stay awake for the whole thing.) Until next time! Jill Schafer Boehme MOMMY! The Internet Lifeline for At-home Moms Labels: writing Friday, January 21, 2005Wishing It Were Always This WayNormally I'd be at ballet right now with my two beautiful daughters. Instead, I am having a tremendously productive time at the computer, working on my very first teleseminar. I love taking my daughters to ballet class -- really, I do. But today I got a much-needed reprieve from my sweet husband. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be possible -- corporate jobs, 45-hours-a-week and all that garbage. In short, he's never HERE during the day. But today is different. Today he came home early. Don't get too excited though, there's a catch: He has to go back in at MIDNIGHT. Doesn't that sound like fun? Anyway, I made the brilliant decision to complain a wee bit about not having time to get my work done, and he offered to take the girls to ballet for me. They were delighted to have Daddy's attention, and I was delighted to get some decent work time in. For about a year, it was always like this. For about a year, Eric worked from home. I miss those days; really, I do. Not because I want to keep getting breaks from ballet, but because I miss having him around. I really do. We're going to do everything possible to get him back home again. Like sell millions of copies of my upcoming fantasy novel. (You will buy one, won't you?) Today's focus, though, is the upcoming teleseminar for stay-at-home and work-at-home moms. If you are a subscriber to my Ezine, you will receive notification via email, as well as in the regularly sent issues. You won't want to miss this: It's my teleseminar debut....and it's free! Only your regular long-distance fees will apply. Seriously. Aren't you just dying to know how to pronounce my last name? Well, it's back to work. Hope you're finding some satisfaction in your day, too. Cheers! --- Jill Schafer Boehme MOMMY! The Internet Lifeline for At-home Moms Monday, January 17, 2005OK, OK, I'll confess..........I'm not very good at this Blog Thing. Bear with me while I whine a bit. This wasn't my idea, you see; it was Eric's. HE wanted me to start blogging. HE insisted that a Blog was Just The Perfect Addition to my online presence. Goody for him. I'm the one who has to do all the writing. I know -- I'm a writer; it's what I do. But somehow writing is less fun when I feel compelled to do it. I'd much rather lose myself in my fantasy world while I work on my next novel. I think I'm finished whining. Now I'll get to some legitimate blogging. Actually, blogs can offer us a fascinating glimpse into someone's life. They can also be a sort of "therapy" for the writer (you know -- hashing things out for an unseen audience and feeling better afterward). So here we go. First of all, if you're a subscriber to my Ezine and you're still around after my article on male private parts -- thank you! This means that you are a) the mother of at least one boy; or b) someone who grew up with at least one brother; or c) male; or d) a bit screwy. You know, the longer I'm a mom, the more irreverent I become. I think it is a survival tactic. Let's face it -- how seriously can we take a child's fascination with his penis? At any rate, I hope you laughed along with me. My sister called me the other day and, because she was laughing and talking at the same time, I couldn't understand a word that she was saying. When I was finally able to translate, I discovered that our father was the source of her laughter. Apparently he had developed a voice for my niece's giraffe, which of course my sister insisted I had to hear to believe. So my dad got on the phone and talked like a giraffe. Read that sentence again. It's scary, isn't it? "So my dad got on the phone and talked like a giraffe." How does a giraffe talk, one might ask? It's kind of hard to describe, really. Suffice it to say that it was definitely a new experience for me. Seventy-one years old and still pulling strange things out of his hat -- that's my dad. It's definitely genetic. He's my biggest fan, though. When my first fantasy novel hits the bestseller lists, he will not be surprised. Stay tuned -- I promise to blog more frequently. |
About Me
I am: Mother to five stunningly individualistic children... Writer of young adult fantasy... Passionate advocate for Women At Home... Madly in love with my husband... In need of Organic Gourmet Chocolate on a regular basis. I've got a Paypal account if you'd like to contribute to the cause....
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