Tangents

I'm in a really good place right now. I mean that literally. I am tucked happily into my extraordinarily soft bed leaning on an overstuffed European pillow with my beloved new netbook on my lap piping Adele through my earbuds. My son is contentedly sleeping in his room and my husband is snoring softly beside me. There is a light rain pouring outside, a true rarity here in the desert. All is right with the world in this moment.

I have started writing towards a book. I wouldn't go as far as to say that I am writing a book. Really I am jotting down a paragraph here and there as I get a second in my ridiculously busy life. At this rate, I should have put something together by the time my son graduates college. He's six now, so that is a pretty realistic goal. Everyone around me, the non-writers, are expecting me to shoot something out in the next couple months and be on the press circuit by this time next year. I love how they all think I will write the great American novel simply because I tell a good story here and there. Writing is wicked hard!

I am terrible when it comes to details. I get bored with them. I think I get bored when I'm reading them, I do not think in minor details, and I certainly don't write them well. Colors, sounds, smells...when I start to write about them I feel like everything I say has been said. It's all too cliche. And while I'm on the cliche matter, why can't I find the stinking accent on my keyboard? It shouldn't be this difficult to correctly accent foreign words. These are the details that I get caught up on. See? Tangents.

Hello...my name is Erin

I'm back baby! I could very well be returning triumphantly to an empty room, since I have neglected my blog terribly. Nonetheless, I survived a long, ill summer. My husband just purchased me a gorgeous little ASUS 1000HE netbook so I can start my writing up again. It's been too long.

So, let me tell you a little about my summer. It was hell. I spent the entire summer sick with a myriad of different issues, in and out of doctors' offices getting no answers, being scheduled for more tests with no results. We had two vacations planned. One was with the family and we headed to Nashville to see my brother and his family. It had been planned for some time so I was loathe to cancel. By the time we left it had pretty much been determined (by WebMD and MayoClinic.com) that I was suffering from lupus. After doing some research I learned that I needed to get as much rest as possible. I was running a constant fever of 99.0-100.2. When my normal temp is 97.4 that leaves me feeling flu-like and miserable. Nonetheless, we hit the road for Nashville. My parents were flying in on the weekend for my niece's first birthday party and it was the first time in years that our whole family (all four of the originals) were together. I couldn't cancel. It was a big deal. So I went. And I napped through it entirely. Every time someone wanted to do something, I had to lay down. I was a party pooper and it made me feel miserable. By the time we drove the sixteen hours home I was more worn out and sick and had a terrible time trying to work.

Next, my mother and I had planned on going to Ohio together for her 40th high school reunion. It was big and if I didn't go, she wasn't going to. She hadn't been back but once since she was 17 and she didn't want to do it alone. So, even though I was still weak and feverish, I boarded the plane and headed out. The trip was wonderful. I love Ohio. It's truly a snapshot of American perfection. I napped a lot because I was with my Mommy and she takes good care of me without the guilt. Still, I managed to contract the flu and by the time I was supposed to head back to work I was out for another week.

No one at work was happy with me. I went in with what was probably the swine flu just to process payroll, but that was all I could do. When I went back in the following Monday I was summoned to my boss' office where he reprimanded me for travelling when I was ill and cut my hours in half. It was a huge blow to the family budget, as I am the primary earner. Patrick and I started fighting again. The stress was so high. We were missing car payments. We couldn't buy groceries. Things were tight and scary and Patrick acted as though he blamed me because of my "mystery illness".

And that, my friends, is how I spent my summer. It felt like I was fighting for my life, definitely my livelihood, against an invisible foe. Straight through September I struggled. (You like how I am talking about September as past...cause in 2-1/2 hours that crap is behind me). I am beginning to see some promise. I found a way to treat what is ailing me (unfortunately it is with tons of rest and a lot of fever reducer). I'm changing my diet and trying to reduce my stress levels. I have increased my work hours back to a liveable (paywise) 32 hours a week. I'm going to make it and I am back to writing.

So, to the great void out there (and if I'm lucky, maybe even Mae), I'm back!

Sick In The Head?

I'm sick. But not the kind of sick I have been whining about. It's the kind when you stick your foot in your mouth and your stomach goes into your throat and your face turns red and you feel like a complete TOOL.

Today I was reading Twitter and one of my favorite people mentioned that she loved French. Hey, I love French too. It was my minor for crying out loud. My home is filled with the Eiffel Tower and I speak the language casually throughout my day at times. It has been a part of me since I fell in love with the language at sixteen.

But I was tired and cranky and I shot back a quick remark, in French, that I loved French but detested THE French. You see, my actual experience with Parisians was quite negative. After further studying the country's sociological tendencies, I decided that I could live without it altogether. But that is such an ignorant statement and state of mind. That is like anyone saying that Americans are fat and lazy and they have no need for us at all. It's just not true in all cases. To make it worse...she is part French. Funnily enough, so am I. My father's mother was French and my mother's father was Cajun French.

But wait, worse still...read this. Numero Uno of things that tick her off? Yeah, that would be me.

I just want to say Mae, I am terribly sorry. It was ignorant of me...and I usually am not ignorant. Looking back at the comment, regardless of whether you were French or not, it is a classless generalization that I am ashamed to have put into words. When I think of uttering the same about ANY OTHER COUNTRY it seems unfathomable! Can you imagine?

"I love Iran, but hate Iranians".
"I love China, but hate the Chinese".

Who says that???? It is unacceptable and I am eternally sorry. It's not who I am and it's not how I think, but I cannot account for how the thought came to be in my mind. I feel as worthless as the boyfriend who hits his girlfriend then says he didn't mean it. I said it. I can't undo that, but please know that I have thought a LOT about the subject since tapping it out on my iPhone and it is NOT my heart. I have always thought that I loved all people until they individually gave me reason not to. I would like to think that from this day forward I will pay closer attention to never fall into the thoughtless complacency that allows racism, sexism and other forms of intolerance to exist in our society.

I. AM. SO. SORRY.