Wilsonworld

Writing it was the easy part.

You all may remember back in November i did this little thing called NaNoWriMo.
You know, commit to writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days.
You may also remember that i actually did it.
It was my 5th? attempt and apparently that is the charm, not the 3rd as the old wives like to say.

"Talking to Dead People" was the first book i actually finished...a beginning, a middle and an end. There is a real story there, and I am itching to tell it.

So, to help me in the "let's get back into the swing of things" mode i am going to need to be in..I have pulled out the manuscript, and have started the editing process.

Writing it was easy. (or easier..) Editing? Not so much.
I can now go back and start the corrections on spelling...then work up to properly formatting it. My punctuation..or lack of it...is astounding.

But see, i HAVE to edit it.
Because there is another story.
That is connected to my heroine..that is dying to come out. But i cannot start to let her talk again until I have finished with the first book..

SO apparently, March is going to be Kimby's Editing Month.

Just to remind you what it was about.....here is the excerpt i posted back in November.....

Talking to Dead People

There was nothing out there.
Guess I was just imagining things. I was getting pretty tired.
I curled back up on the couch and picked up the transcript.
I was reading about Molly Meighien Malloy, when I heard something again.
“Make sure you put the kettle on, you will be wanting tea.”
Ok, so I know that this time I heard something. And that something had a distinctly Irish brogue to their voice. What the hell was going on?
“tea?” I said out loud.
Nothing.
Just the sound of my breathing, and my heart racing loudly.
“Mom?” I tried again.
Still nothing.
I shook my head and kept reading about Mrs. Malloy. She had died young, at forty. She had left behind three small children, and of course her husband, who according to this research re-married a young girl to care for his young family. That was not uncommon. Lots of widowers remarried, especially when faced with the daunting task of raising small children alone.
I looked through my paper work to see if I could cross reference the Malloy’s with any of the other information that I had lying around.
I was not disappointed. Mr Malloy was a prominent business owner by the times standards. He was a pub owner and a brew master. And an avid tea drinker.
Tea drinker?
SO much so that during his wake, which was the largest of any the village had ever seen, the departed was toasted with tea, and not whiskey as would have been the custom.
“will you  be wanting some tea?”
Ok, I definitely heard that. A woman wanting to know if I was going to want some tea. An Irish woman, who sounds like she is the mothering type. The kind who would ask her husband if he wanted tea after a hard day at work..
“Um….why, did YOU want some tea Molly?” I waited to see if I would get a response. Hell, I was actually waiting to prove to myself that I was not losing my mind.
“No thank ye, I thought perhaps you would as you seem to be working very hard and the air has a bite to it this eve.”
I sat on the couch, staring out the window, knowing in my heart what had just happened. I just needed my brain to catch up.
“Molly, can you actually hear me?”
“Yes, you are talking to me are you not?”
“Well, yes I suppose I am, but I was kind of thinking that you were just a figment of my imagination”
“And why would that be Ms O’Donnell? You have been talking to us for years..ever since you were a wee lass, hiding from the sun in that little grave yard on the hill.”
OH MY GOD! I must be losing my mind. There is no way that I am sitting in my Mother’s living room, having a conversation with a women who has been dead for two hundred years. Not only that but this dead women apparently had been watching me for the last forty years.
“You are not losing it..as you young people like to say. I am talking to you, you are talking to me…there is nothing unusual about that.
“Well, no, not if you were sitting in the room with me, or on the telephone.” Or alive, I added to myself in my head.
“I heard that” she chuckled.
“you have always been the voice for us. You have helped us find our way. You have found some of us that were lost, without us even knowing it. You have always talked to us. It is just that now I wanted to talk back.”
I think I needed that drink now…and it was not going to be tea. It was going to be another shot of whiskey…and a big one at that.
I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the bottle out of the cupboard. I did not even bother with a glass, just said a brief prayer and tipped back the bottle.
It burned going down, just for a moment, and then…bliss.
I stood there in the moonlight and tried to process what had just happened.
Ok, brain, sort this out.
This afternoon, your grandpa wiped the soot of his brow, and then Uncle Curley waved at you.
Now you are standing in the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey because a woman who has been dead for two hundred years has decided to make light chit chat with you.
“Molly are you listening?”
I waited for a response.
I did not get one.
Was I really expecting one?
Probably not.
I really needed to get some sleep. And take a vacation. And get a life.
What I really needed to do was to put down the whiskey bottle. The shape was beginning to feel really familiar in my hand and from past experiences I knew that that was not a good thing. (Thank-ye Martha Stewart) I had been down that road once before, and while I allowed myself that odd sip now and then, I had stopped drinking like a drunken Irish sailor many years ago.
I put away the bottle, which was now considerably lighter than it was before I came to visit (mental note, make sure you hit a liquor store to replace the whiskey).


Like i said, it needs editing..but it needs to be told..Because there is another story..and this one wants to be told too.

So in my quest to turn my self around after hitting forty, I have been doing a little "straightening" up in my life. Yesterday, I told you about listening to George (or possibly Estelle?) and going back to school. There have been other things I have been doing to help me "find" myself again. (really how does one lose themselves?)
AGES ago, i used to do this thing. This poetry thing. And while some of it was crap, some of it was pretty good. It was something i enjoyed doing and always made time for. But then life got in the way and for the most part i stopped writing.
Unless there was something that really moved me, i just never bothered to put it on paper.
But i missed it.
It was a part of who I was/am.
So in January, i started writing for me again. Most of it....was crap.
But i was taking the time to do what i loved..and that is what mattered.

In the past few years i have been lucky enough to take my JunkYard approach to poetry and take it into my children's school.  The message in the workshops that i did was always the same. It is ALL about putting the words on a page. You do not have to fear words. They can be your friend. And yet...there i was once again trying to teach my children (and others) to do something that i was not willing to do myself.
This is not acceptable.
EVER.

I have reopened the JUNKYARD.
I have been playing there since January, and i have been playing alone. But I am ready to have friends play with me again.
So....
If you like words
and being silly
and just want to put words on a page..come and visit me there..
It is a work in progress, and a bit messy still on some of the archived pages, but i am working on it.
(also a great way to get back into the swing of having to write..since TWO of the courses i will be taking are English courses..and it has been 15 years since i had to write a paper)

For those who don't know what the JunkYard is...you can click here for the story.

I've been hearing voices...

Ok maybe not voices, but one voice for sure.
See, I have this friend.
I feel like i have known her forever, and i guess in a way i have. I heard stories about her long before I met her, since she and Hubby had been friends when they were teens. They parted company along the way, but then we all found each other again.
We have become good friends.
I dare say..the best of friends.
She knows me better I think than i know myself.

This is good because quite often i really have no idea of what i am thinking...and it helps to have that little voice in your head nudging you along.

I have some issues. Self esteem issues, that are really not issues at all, but I think they are and therefore through the power of thought..they well they just are.
The biggest one is that i do not think that i am capable of doing anything.
Now, i know i CAN do lots of things..i am a multi talented girl, but see, there is this ISSUE of not having a piece of paper that tells the rest of the world that i can do things. This paper..in my eyes..changes everything.

Now over the years, the little voice..lets call her...George...has been telling me, little by little that if i really wanted to i could change things. I didn't need that piece of paper, but if that was what really was holding me back, then i should just go and get it. I would laugh, and change the subject...and we would carry on.
A few years ago George went as far as to drive me to the University to get a copy of my transcripts...a sort of gentle push if you like. But that mental block was still there. I did not go back, did not go any farther with the idea. I kept on working at a job i hated, because in my mind that was all i could really do.
See what i was up against?

But then something happened.

I turned 40 and REALLY took a long hard look at my self, the whole time George's voice in my head.
This time when George mentioned school to me, for the first time i think i actually heard her.
And i shot off an email.
Expecting nothing.
Except a funny thing happened while i was waiting for nothing.
I got an email back, and then another, and another.

And so now here I am.
I have an appointment to speak to the Dean, who has already gone over my transcripts and has advised me in my course of action. He was one of my old Prof's back in the days of Higher Learning..and remembers me well.
I am glad he does.
It is going to make going back to school a whole lot easier if i actually know someone there.

So this September, when i am buying my children's back to school stuff, there will be an extra pile of supplies. Stuff for me. To finish what i started.
In a discussion I had with Dean Walsh, we talked about the journey,and i remarked that is  about what you learn on the journey, not necessarily how long it take you to get there.

Thanks to the little voice in my head i actually believe it this time.
So thanks George...and keep talking...It may not seem like i am listening all the time, but i am.
I really am.

Lots of things to cover...so start reading!

Yesterday was a grey day, so unlike the previous two days which were almost dare i say...SPRING LIKE. There had been some weather warnings up, but by mid afternoon they were removed, so naturally i assumed that meant that it would continue its trek towards spring.
Boy when i am wrong..i am really wrong!
(I tend to do nothing half-assed,this being no exception)

This morning, i woke up to..well...WINTER. Sometime during the night, Old Man Winter snuck back into the area and covered us in a deep blanket of snow. Now..It IS pretty. Really pretty. I would not lie..take a look...

See..i told you it was pretty.

But the thing is..
(lean in closer)

(closer)

i am so done with Old Man Winter.

Yes, i realize that i am a winter lover, but it is the end of February and since we here in Wilsonworld have been in winter mode since October we approaching 5 months..and we are done with it.

So as pretty as it is...it is time for Spring. Sunshine and flowers. Biking and swimming pools.
Swimming pools?
Swimming?
Speaking of swimming...

The Girl Who Stopped Swimming is almost here!

tgwss, as it is lovingly known is Joshilyn Jackson's new novel.

Around here, we love Faster Than Kudzu (which you can find in my handy links on the right hand side..no..the OTHER right..yes..thats it) and we also love her other books...gods in Alabama and Between, Georgia.

SO we have been waiting for tgwss..and it is almost here....March 4th according to the Chapters website.

Here is a little peek into the heart of tgwss....

Laurel Gray Hawthorne hasn't seen a ghost in the thirteen years she and her husband have lived in the beautiful gated neighborhood of Victorianna. keeping her head down, she's managed to make a good life for her beloved daughter and husband while working on her nationally acclaimed art quilts. But in the dog days of a Florida August, she wakes to find a dead girl standing by her bed. It's the ghost of her daughter's best friend, Molly, who leads the way to her own small body, floating lifelessly in the Hawthorne's backyard pool. Now, with police on her lawn and neighbors peeking over the fence, Laurel's carefully constructed existence cracks, and her past seeps through.

Laurel and her sister, Thalia, grew up in what appears to be a typical blue-collar home, but the Grays have long been hiding a very literal skeleton in their closet. While Laurel built her pretty, pleasing life in the suburbs, Thalia became an actress with a capital A, about as unconventional as they come. She's the walking definition of mess, and no longer fits in Laurel's tidy world. Yet Molly can't rest until someone learns her secrets, and she has opened a door to the past that Laurel can't close alone. She turns to her wild and estranged sister, though asking for Thalia's help is like jumping into a hot frying pan protected only bu a thin layer of Crisco. Together they set out on a life altering journey that will reveal their family's buried history, the true state of Laurel's perfect marriage, and what really happened to the girl who stopped swimming.

Doesn't that sound yummy?
So..you have until March 4th to pre-order from your fave online store, or go to your local bookhouse...or you could do what i am doing....see..there is this contest. Dee, at Dee's Book Dish is having a contest for all of us who want this book. And by posting the cover and telling you about the book..I am entering.

Not that i would not have done this even if there wasn't a contest...but you know me..it is all about free books!

What?
You are still here?
Go now...to Joss's or Dee's or  even to this place where you can pre-order personalized, signed copies. (click here for info) 

Go.
That is all.
I am going back to bed...maybe if i wake up again, this snow stuff will all have been a dream.

And the Oscar went to.....

Okay, so i really am not going to talk about the Oscars, except to say that yes i watched it, and yes i did actually pick some of the right winners....but what i really want to talk about is the best pictures. Yes pictures..as in all 80 of them. During the show last night they did a look back at all of the Best Picture winners, and i decided to keep count as to how many of them i had actually seen.

Holy Crap do i watch a lot of movies....Or at least i used to.

Below is a list of The Academy's Best Pictures....I have seen the ones in Bold...and apparently after counting..I have seen 61 out of 80.
How many have you seen?
(and yes i realize i did not bold The Titanic. That is because i have never seen it. Never wanted to...I prefer A Night To Remember. After all, i already knew how the movie ended...Ship fights ice burg. Ice burg wins. Ship sinks. The end.)

80 years of Best Pictures...

1927-28 - Wings

1928-29 - Broadway Melody

1929-30 - All Quiet on the Western Front

1930-31 - Cimarron

1931-32 - Grand Hotel

1932-33 - Cavalcade

1934 - It Happened One Night

1935 - Mutiny on the Bounty

1936 - The Great Ziegfeld

1937 - The Life of Emile Zola

1938 - You Can't Take It With You

1939 - Gone With the Wind

1940 - Rebecca

1941 - How Green Was My Valley

1942 - Mrs Miniver

1943 - Casablanca

1944 - Going My Way

1945 - The Lost Weekend

1946 - The Best Years of Our Lives

1947 - Gentlemen's Agreement

1948 - Hamlet

1949 - All the King's Men

1950 - All About Eve

1951 - An American In Paris

1952 - The Greatest Show on Earth

1953 - From Here to Eternity

1954 - On the Waterfront

1955 - Marty

1956 - Around the World in 80 Days

1957 - The Bridge on the River Kwai

1958 - Gigi

1959 - Ben-Hur

1960 - The Apartment

1961 - West Side Story

1962 - Lawrence of Arabia

1963 - Tom Jones

1964 - My Fair Lady

1965 - The Sound of Music

1966 - A Man for All Seasons

1967 - In the Heat of the Night

1968 - Oliver

1969 - Midnight Cowboy

1970 - Patton

1971 - The French Connection

1972 - The Godfather

1973 - The Sting

1974 - The Godfather Part II

1975 - One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

1976 - Rocky

1977 - Annie Hall

1978 - The Deer Hunter

1979 - Kramer vs Kramer

1980 - Ordinary People

1981 - Chariots of Fire

1982 - Gandhi

1983 - Terms of Endearment

1984 - Amadeus

1985 - Out of Africa

1986 - Platoon

1987 - The Last Emperor

1988 - Rain Man

1989 - Driving Miss Daisy

1990 - Dances With Wolves

1991 - The Silence of the Lambs

1992 - Unforgiven

1993 - Schindler's List

1994 - Forrest Gump

1995- Braveheart

1996- The English Patient

1997- Titanic

1998- Shakespeare in Love

1999- American Beauty

2000- Gladiator

2001- A Beautiful Mind

2002- Chicago

2003- Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King

2004- Million Dollar Baby

2005- Crash

2006- The Departed

2007- No Country for Old Men

Be it ever so humble...

I finally have left home.

Twenty-one years ago I packed my bags and started my own journey on this road we call life...and up until this point I have never really unpacked my baggage.

While a University student, i often heard the phrase.."I am going home this weekend". School was not a home..home was where you could eat for free and do your laundry without someone stealing your sweaters. Home was where your friends and family were.
I continued to utter that phrase after leaving school, but again..i was still living the life of a student..milk crates and Mr. Noodles. Scrounging for bus fare and laundry money. Home was a safe place where i never worried about paying the bills..and i always left with a fresh supply of stuff. (you know the stuff i mean...laundry soap, toilet paper, and peanut butter to name but a few.)
But then I got married.
And still, when going to visit my parents, i would utter the phrase...I was going home.

Years passed, children were born, and yet i never failed to utter the words..going home when talking about visiting my parents.

I wondered about this, spoke to friends and family...and decided that it was normal. After all, that was where i had grown up, found myself, become "me". Of course i would think of it as a safe place.

(this in its self is funny, since home was never a safe place, and those who know about the issues i had with my family will see the humour in me thinking it was a safe place for me to be)

Yesterday, Keith and i loaded up the kids and took off down the highway. We headed back to the place i grew up...to meet up with old friends...all save one that i have not seen in over 20 years. We were staying at my Father's home...the place where i grew up.

For the first time, as we pulled into the driveway, i notice how tired the old house looked. How small it was...and how...it was not giving me "that feeling" that i usually got when we pulled up. As i walked inside I did not get the pangs of longing for yesteryear...I just wanted to put my stuff down.

The kids got to spend time with Grandpa and Uncle Chris (my little brother) while Keith and i headed out to dinner.
The dinner was nice, and it was great to see how people had changed after all of those years...but i noticed something. Many of them had really not changed. As i sat at the table and listened to various conversations, i noticed something. If i closed my eyes, and just listened...i would not have known that any time had passed at all. All but a few still lived in this tiny town. They all still knew the same people..nothing had really changed for them. And while i did enjoy hearing about some of the people i went to grade school and high school with....mostly...i just didn't care.

And then, i said of of two things that shocked my husband.
I said that i would never want to move back to this area.
I saw his jaw hit the floor..and the friend that i was talking to kind of looked at me sideways..she and i have remained close and knows that the "home" issue is something that i have been dealing with for years.
But I said it. And i meant it.

And this morning as we ate breakfast, Bug asked me when we were leaving..while i gave her my answer, the voice inside my head said...as soon as we can...

We pulled out of the driveway and headed down the highway..and i think for the first time in all of those years, i did not stare at the houses, thinking..that was where Connie lived..and Wendy..and there is the field were we played baseball and soccer and.....
I simply looked ahead at the road in front of me...and thought of nothing.

We had a lovely ride, except for the horrible customer service at two different businesses in Blenheim.
As we passed the "WELCOME TO..." sign, the kids cheered in the back seat..and i said it is good to be home.
That was the second time Keith's jaw hit the floor.
I never say that when coming back to the city.

We pulled up to the house, and waved to the neighbours as we unloaded the car.
We hugged Papa who was glad to see us back.
We fed the cat and checked the phone and email messages.
We hauled our stuff upstairs.
And we unpacked.

I unpacked.
And for the first time, i really emptied my suitcase, and put my things away.
All of them.
Because for the first time ever...

I am home.

Here's mud in your eye.

It is the Tuesday after a long weekend. No one wanted to get up this morning...we all slept in. But we still made it out the door on time. Funny, we are more often late when we get up early. Wonder why?
SO with the kids off to school and Keith off to work, I headed off to the clinic, since our Doctor was not open that early. My eyes have been..well..pink. Lots of swelling and gucky stuff (sorry)..and i knew that there was a problem.
I have Pink Eye. In both eyes. Yuck!
I came back home armed with antibiotic drops (4 times a day)..and have decided that I am doing nothing today.
No cleaning, no more errands, nothing.

In sad news today, the Captain of our OHL team here passed away suddenly yesterday. He was only 19. You can read more about Mickey Renaud here. He was a hell of a Hockey player, and an all around good kid. My heart goes out to his family, friends and teammates.

Family Day.

Here in Ontario, thanks to the Liberal government, today is our newest Statutory Holiday. Welcome to Family day, to be celebrated on the third Monday in February. As it works out for this first Family Day, both Keith and I are off work. His newspaper is not printing today, and I happened to be on a scheduled day off. Had the day not fallen in my four day off block, i would be working. Joys of living in a border town, where everything is open. ALL the time.
There has been a lot of griping and complaining about this Holiday. Many complain about not having the day off and having to find child care. Many complain about the companies they work for not honouring the holiday, or the "taking" of one of their floating days off away to cover the new holiday.

But I ask you this.

Is February not the shortest-yet-longest-feeling month here in the great white north? I know that around here, the topic of conversation with neighbours normally goes something like this...

Hi Mrs X
Oh Hi Mrs Y
It's been months since i have seen you..hard to get out in all the snow and cold weather..how have you been?
Fine, but I am so tired of all of this.white crap. I am tired of seeing grey skies and having my skin fall off if i am out for more than a few minutes. I know that Spring is coming, but couldn't hurry up already?
I agree, Mrs Y. You know for a short month, this month seems so..well..LONG.

February is know for being the month with the highest suicide rates, and depression is at an all time high during this dreary month. So why not give us a Holiday. At least it is a holiday that means something.

Family Day.
A chance to spend time with your children/parents/friends, in the spirit of togetherness. A bright light in the darkness that is part of the seemingly unending blanket of white that we in the Great White North, embrace as part of who we are. Even for myself, a vocal "winter lover", this weather with its cold and all encompassing darkness has overstayed its welcome and i find myself huddled up against the plant lights...fighting the spider plants for a chance to feel the heat, if only for a moment.
We need this holiday.

We also need spring.
SO Dalton, while you are at it, could you talk to the powers that be and convince them that Family Day would also be a great day to start SPRING. If GW can change time...Why can't we?

If you need me i will be cuddled up with the family and the ficus tree. March 21st is not that far away..we can do it...right?

Somebody hold me.

Everyday.

I missed posting yesterday on Valentine's Day, as we were attending our Niece's wedding. What a wonderful way to spend a day associated with love. We spent the day surrounded by family, watching the next generation start on their lives together. I will admit that as i watched her mother get teary eyed as Ashley walked down the aisle, I turned and looked at my own two children sitting beside me. In that brief moment I saw Munch standing at the altar, waiting for his bride, and I saw my little Bug, walking down that long path in a gown full of white.
While I did not know the bride as she was growing up (my brother in law is her Step father), I do have almost 10 years with her as my Niece. Ten years ago she was Munch's age. Bikes and hanging out....summer vacations and school books. And now here she was...walking down the aisle to become someone's wife.

I glanced over at Keith who was busy video taping the ceremony and saw him all those years ago standing at the front of the Church, waiting for me so we could begin our lives together. What a road it has been. And i wouldn't trade it for all of the Valentine's in the world...

SO i give to you, albeit a day late, My Valentine's gift...the one i get every single day....
The love of my family.

Hope your day was filled with love and laughter....

I love the way her mind works.

Since it is so cold around here, we have been finding ways to keep ourselves amused that do not involve stepping outside. The other day we found ourselves trying out THE SIMS. It was a neat way of the four of us to spend a little time together, and it was neat to see the way that the kids viewed us. We had Bug and Munch design our characters...they put a lot of time and effort into picking out hair and bodies for our avatars...Keith did a great job of recreating both of the kids on the computer.

Later on in the day, Big asked of she could do a scenario on her own. She asked for little help, and i was amazed at her ability to have picked up the concept of the game so quickly...but my real interest was in the families that she created.

Bug choose to make two families. Her first one was traditional..Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister, Papa.(ok traditional for us). Her second family, was Mom, Mom, Sister, Sister.

As i watched her create a world for her characters, i had to ask her why she had made the choice to have no men in the second family. She looked at me like i had two heads. "Because the Daddy is gone....the Grandmother moved in to help the Mommy with the kids" she said. The educator in my brain was suddenly full of questions. Why no male? Why not a Grandfather, since that is what she has in her own life. Why was the Daddy not part of the picture?

Her answer to our question of How she came up with that family?
In one of the books i read there was a family who had no daddy, and the gramma came to live with them. I like to pull ideas from books i have read mommy. I like to make up different stories for them. things that did not happen in the books they are in. I want to know what happens after the story ends.

A girl after my own heart.