Well, I did it...Bernard is on Craigslist.

Bernard is up on Craigslist, for about the amount I have in him (with the platen and all) not counting ribbons. It hurts, but I think have to at least make an effort, since I can't imagine fitting two standards in that little house without one ending up on the floor of the closet (or, heaven forbid, out in the shed), unused. That isn't fair.

It'd be nice if he ended up with someone who was into / got into typecasting, so I could keep a virtual eye on him...but we shall see. No bites yet.

Moving right along....

As my facebook friends already know, a lot has happened in the less than a week since my last post. Although I've kinda sorta been looking for a new place off and on for the last few *years*, it wasn't until right after my little rant that the perfect place came up. The location alone (right on the walking/bike trail, outside of town where it turns wooded and quiet) got me so excited I had trouble sleeping that night. I'd sent off an e-mail straight off asking if I could come by, but the next day I decided on the direct approach, and drove on over. It's a wonderful little house, all clean and bright and cheerful, with nice neighbors and room for thedog--and, as I said, *right* next to the trail, so I can meander and think to my heart's content. And ride my bike to work again (work is also right on the trail), once it isn't so dark in the mornings. I love that.

I've already signed an agreement and figured out move dates. And I've already broken the news to my current landlord, so it's all official. I'm a little dizzied by how fast this has happened after so much searching and discouragement. It's like a story. Almost doesn't seem real. I'm liable to feel pretty unsettled right up until I close the door of the current place for the last time and drive off into the sunset.

I feel like I was a little too harsh on it (and my current landlord) in my last post. Yes, it has a plethora of issues, some of them serious. But it hasn't been such a bad deal, all around. And as for my landlord...well, the poor guy never *asked* to be a landlord. He inherited me and this place and all its issues, and I think is embarrassed by the language barrier, among other things. Trying to make repairs or really analyze the place while I'm there is very awkward for him, so he's just avoided it, for the most part. It may actually be a relief that I'm going so he can finally really deal with it, I dunno. He hasn't actually spoken to me since I brought over the letter and made sure it was understood, so I'm a little nervous I won't get away without *some* sort of fuss, but..so far so good.

Now comes the packing and moving part! I have until the end of the month, which is approaching at alarming speed. One of the big concerns is that the new little house is, in fact, little. The current mobile is a double-wide, and actually pretty spacious. The new place is a tiny two bedroom bungalow with no real storage space to speak of, other than an outdoor shed. Much paring down will need to occur. In a lot of ways, this will be very good for me--force me to decide on what matters and clean up my packrat tendencies. However, sadly this will likely mean that many of the typers will be on the block, possibly including Bernard. Ulp. I'm going to stall on that decision for a few days, but if the Pacific Northwestern typospherians see a sudden glut of well-worn typers appear on Craigslist, it's my fault. I'm thinking I should really pare down to just one standard and maybe two or three portables, probably the nicer SM-9, the Galaxie and the rather chintzy Olivetti-Lettera-35l-inabag I picked up on a whim a month or so ago, just 'cause it's tiny and reminds me (for reasons I reserve for a future typecast) of my childhood teddy bear.

Other revelations of packing: good gracious I have a lot of paper! It was spread throughout the house, but I packed up most of my notebooks last night, and the result makes me feel both gloating and sheepish. Most of 'em are cheap composition notebooks, plus a few Rhodia pads and some of the lovely HP paper I use for Circa stuff and the scrap paper I use for typed drafts and the box of what's left of the onion skin paper I got from Duffy Moon. Two whole milk-crates full of unused paper, not counting the loose stuff. Makes me want to sit down in the middle of the floor and start scribbling.

And packing books tempts me to stop what I'm doing and read "just a few lines".

Which is why it's a good thing I'm starting ahead of time....

I am easily distracted.

But man, is this exciting or what??

Shameful secrets and a prayer request of sorts

I'm still struggling to get back into regularly updating my journal, let alone getting back into blogging. So...instead of any attempt at deep thoughts, how's about I just babble about stuff-I've-been-up-to-and-what's-been-on-my-mind? Kinda.

I live in a dump. Well...pretty much. It's bad. I'm ashamed of it. On any occasion where people ask where I live, I hedge. On occasions when I've needed a ride home, I ask them to let me off nearby without pointing out my house. Once, when I had my guitar worked on and the friend who fixed it up for me offered to drop it by on his way to town to save me a trip, I actually got in my car and drove to the store that's literally next door so I wouldn't have to admit to this place. It's a very old and very poorly maintained mobile home with a host of issues--only one stove burner works, the electricity to the oven is broken, the roof leaks in at least one place during hard rain, there is mold anywhere and everywhere, many of the electrical outlets don't work...I could go on. And on the outside, it's just plain ugly. It needs pressure-washed in the worst way (green crud all over it), it has shutters that were painted an odd wanna-be-Hermes sort of green, many of which dangle precariously, and the back stoop has folded in on itself.

And it's literally falling apart around me. While I was dealing with my recent cable outage, I discovered that part of the floor against the wall near where the cable comes into the house is rotted all the way through. I've fixed things I'm capable of fixing, but there are many, many limits to my skills in the fix-it-up realm.

It's a rental, so I'm not bound to it in any way. And though I've tried to make my landlord aware of my worries, he a) seems inclined to blame me and b) doesn't completely understand the problems--he's Korean and doesn't always understand me, I don't think. To be fair to him, he kind of inherited this parcel of land (and all its problems) when he bought the store next door, and it's a bit of an afterthought for him. But even so...he is my landlord. I'm sure if I really made a stink about it, he'd at least take a stab at things...but in all honesty, he doesn't have a great track record for finishing things. Also in all honesty, this place should probably be torn down and replaced with a new mobile if it's going to continue as a rental property.

My stay here was originally meant to be very temporary. It's a long and boring story, but in essence, it was cheap rent, and I wanted somewhere to live until I was more settled in my job when I first moved out here, and there are, in fact, some good things about this location. I have a good amount of land and a huge fenced yard, where I'm allowed to keep my dog. I'm near the interstate, but out of town (except for the mini-mart next door). Most of the time, this place is mostly warm and mostly dry--it's fine all summer, and it's really only this time of year it gets me down in a big way. I realize that compared to much of the world, I'm incredibly blessed.

But I really want to move on. However, the pickings are slim. I have a dog about the size of a small Labrador, for one thing, and it can be hard to find rentals that are OK with that. There's no way I'd give him up. Besides the fact that he's my dog and I wouldn't abandon him, as a single gal living alone, there's a great deal of comfort in having a biggish black dog around. Granted, *I* know the most he's liable to do to an intruder is to breathe on them excitedly and drool on their fingers, but *they* don't necessarily know that.

And the two cats...well, I dragged them all the way from Vermont with me. They're not going anywhere, either.

But having both means most of the places that would work well for us are those really geared toward families--which often means they're actually too big and well out of my price range. Also often crammed into housing communities up near Fort Lewis, when I'd rather be, if anything, further south and more rural. There just aren't many rentals available in rural areas, which only makes sense.

To complicate matters (or simplify them, I haven't decided which), nearby friends are finally buying their own bit of land and a house, so their current home will probably be available. The downside is that it too is a mobile, albeit a much nicer one in much better condition. And they live right here, which would make moving easy. And all my routines and paths and haunts could remain the same. The rent would be some higher, but not a lot. They do, however, have space for horses, and I don't need that. I think I'd worry about not making full use of the place, silly though that may sound. And above all, I don't want to take it over just because it's convenient--if it's the *right* move (and it may well be), I want to do so, but I can be all too quick to jump on the easy route.

On the other hand, taking something a long way away and at the edge of what I'm able to spend just because it's *different* from here would be a bad move, too. Even if this place itself is pretty lousy, I have a lot going for me: "my" coffee house is pretty much on the way to work, I have my routines where grocery shopping and the library and all go, and above all, I have a *fabulous* parish in St. Michael's in downtown Olympia: it's a huge parish, which can make it a bit daunting, but because of the size they can support all sorts of activities and different groups. And they have Perpetual Adoration. Awesome.

My tendency is to rush into things once I've made a decision to make a change. I get completely obsessed with a thought and have trouble dealing with any other aspects of life, and that's just not right. I've been here almost four years. A few more months one way or another isn't going to make a difference. I'm going to keep an eye out on Craigslist and such, keep thinking about the nearby option, do some driving around to get a feel for the various neighborhoods out there. For those of you who are the praying sort, I'd really appreciate prayers for guidance--and patience!

Renewal

Whither Creativity?

Wow...hard to believe it's only a week until Christmas, isn't it? Sometimes time moves so fast it's like you're being carried along by a fast current and if you don't grab onto a moment now and then, you're swept out to sea before you know it.

I'm not really done with shopping. These days, with family spread across the entire nation, we don't make a huge deal out of presents--mostly we buy for whoever is local, which for me is my brother and sister-in-law and three little nieces. And of course, in practice, this generally means I give the grown-ups stuff like coffee and chocolates and books, and the kids get the bulk of the presents. The oldest is now almost four and pretty aware of this whole Christmas thing (and is a social butterfly who will talk your ear off given half the chance), and the middle gal (my little god-daughter) is two and a half and smart as a whip. She has a wonderful curiosity about the world around her--likes to take stuff apart and build and tinker, and when Dad was here, she stood and listened the entire time whenever we played music.

On Tuesday after work, I went to Tarzhay in search of age-appropriate toys and such. I had a few ideas in mind--playdough, maybe, and for my god-daughter, I was hoping to find a Fisher Price xylophone, or one of those toy pianos that are essentially a xylophone inside a piano shell, or a very cheap miniature keyboard. Didn't everyone have some variation on these when they were little? Or maybe some little dolls, I thought, or those over-sized pop-together beads, or blocks. Of course I didn't expect to find the exact toys I had growing up, but I figured there would be *some* similar toys.

What I found:

• There were blocks, but they all seemed to be part of kits, with a single pre-conceived end you were supposed to work toward--even for the little-kid sets.
  
• There were music making devices with keyboards or buttons, but in *every single* case, the buttons played full songs, not individual notes
  
• I found sets of "Little People," which were actually kind of cool--the Little People I remember were essentially pegs with heads--armless, legless torsos with just a few vague painted-on details. These were fully molded. However(!!) every single one of them was holding something or attached to a setting. They seemed made to be posed in a scene, not played with.
  
• Lastly, with few exceptions, everything was affiliated with some TV show or movie. To me, there's something unspeakably sad about having your kid watch hours of television a day, and then when they *aren't* watching TV, bombarding them with toys, games and books all based on those TV shows. Even in the coloring book section, I found only two that weren't trademark characters of some kind.
  

All in all, everything seemed specifically designed to stifle creativity and prevent individual thought. OK, so that's a curmudgeonly exaggeration, but even so.... I did find a really cool Mr. Potato Head for the oldest niece (it has a little suitcase to hold all his stuff and keep it tidy, which is nice) and playdough and a few other little things, but...gee. What happened to play being for letting your imagination run wild, not following a script? Thinking about it, most of my favorite toys didn't do *anything* on their own. Toys that did were fun for a brief period, but then the function ultimately became boring and that toy was abandoned. On the other hand, we played for *hours* with the trolls we made out of salt dough and painted, and stuffed animals without voice boxes or videos, and dolls made out of sticks/stones/balloons/socks. *We* provided personalities and histories for them, *we* named them and gave them voices.

Call me old-fashioned, but I think that's the way it should be.

Popcorn love (typecast poetry)

I find inspiration in odd places. Especially considering I can't even eat popcorn right now.

Respooling conundrum

So...let's just say, theoretically speaking, that you had a typewriter with spools unlike any of your other typers, and you wanted to respool a new ribbon onto those spools to at least tide you over until ribbons could be ordered, but the ribbon is attached to the current spool with some sorta staple instead of those little hooks. Have you ever encountered this? And how would you go about attaching the replacement ribbon--is there any way? I almost gave superglue a try last night...but I dunno if that would work on cloth. What say the respooling pros?

UPDATE: solved. I just had to use some brute force to remove the odd little ball-bearing thing holding the ribbon to the spools. Not sure how many times I can get away with reusing these spools (they got somewhat stressed during the process, but seem OK), but they're workin' for now.

Endurance

I just received the Levenger Christmas catalog, and was pleased to see a Royal standard typewriter on the cover. Then at second glance, I realized it was completely out of proportion to the items placed around it--pens and a wallet and what-not. Turns out, it's a replica in miniature, intended for use as a bookend. I'm not about to pay $98 for a miniature typewriter sculpture, but I'm impressed by the detail. It's typewriter jewelry of a completely different sort.

I was also struck by the story behind the model: it is a replica of David McCullough's Royal, purchased in the mid-60s and still his only writing companion. It got me thinking.



(I admit, I haven't read any of his books. I should probably remedy this.)

I'd also highly recommend all retrotechie writers browse on over here for a very interesting post on writing processes--be sure to check out some of the linked sites, too! Fascinating stuff.

NaNoWriMo Redux (IOW TGIO)

Thank goodness it's over: the 50k words, at least. I have a few more scenes to finish in the draft, but that, too, is almost complete--I think writing short stories has helped me pace the story a little better, without a whole lot of floundering around trying to kill time before the conclusion. All the same, this was *not* an easy NaNoWriMo for me, and I am already thinking of throwing in the towel on next year's behalf. I think NaNoWriMo has run its course with me, and I've learned a lot through it, but it's time for us to part ways. It isn't fun anymore.

It wasn't that I had nothing to write about. I did. I had plenty of ideas. Actually, for once, I had the basic gist of the story in mind months beforehand: I started making character and plot notes clear back in June. A lot of them ended up not applying--a minor character who didn't even have a name until the last couple days of October became the female lead, and other secondary characters that were supposed to have fairly major parts slid off the screen almost immediately, but at least some elements lived on. I never truly got stuck with nothing to write next.

But I like to "remember" what I'm writing. I picture a scene, rehearse it in my head while driving or walking or lying in bed or doing the dishes until it's pretty close to right, then write it. You can't do that during NaNo. You have to just keep throwing words out. And I can't really get an entire story pictured in my head beforehand. Ever. Personalities change, or I realize the time line doesn't work (and this year's time line, simple as it was, gave me headaches), or someone needs an alibi or...something.

I wrote all throughout the year this year. Some of my writing, in my humble opinion, wasn't appallingly bad. Producing even a rough draft this thin and pale and disjointed makes me want to weep and pull my hair out. To make matters worse, I love my characters this year. I can picture them more clearly than ever before. And I let them down. I'm not sure if I can fix this story or not. I very much hope so, for their sake. I hope I can paint them as I see them, instead of the dim shadows in a flimsy shadowy world they currently are.

I did come to a new appreciation for the Alphasmart Neo--I switched to it from the wondrous Olympia SG-1 a little more than halfway through the month when it became apparent I was going to need to squeeze in more writing time, especially away from home. It had been neglected a bit this past year, but as I've said here before, it is the most practical writing implement I own. You get all the benefits of instant digital copy in a very durable, highly portable package, with instant-on, instant-save and all but limitless battery life. Someday computers may obtain those particular qualities, but for the moment, there isn't a gadget out there that completely compares. It's a very unromantic little thing, but it sure gets the job done. I'll switch to the netbook/computer for editing, but for pure writing, no current computer can hold a candle to the Neo.

Soundtrack for this year ended up being Matchbox Twenty, Ad Vielle Que Pourra, and various Harry Connick Jr. albums. There is no rhyme or reason to this. It just happens.

I should be able to finish the first draft in the next two weeks. And then, I guess I need to decide if I want to try to dive in and work on it right off, when I'm still a little jaded and a little too close to it, or put it away for a few months.

And speaking of jaded, by next fall, I may have forgotten all about this crabbiness. It was partially just a perfect storm of lack of morning writing time, colds, and life getting in the way. And maybe my story isn't so bad after all. Parts of it are pretty OK. Maybe NaNoWriMo '10 isn't *completely* out of the question. Whoa, do I have conviction or what?

Thanks be

I am thankful for my faith: my rock, my stronghold, my home. I am thankful for family, near and far. I am thankful that our family has grown in the past year through both marriage and births, with no corresponding diminishment. I am thankful for my cats and my dog.

I am thankful for music, and for the tools of music: for FLATPICK-L, for The Waltz Books, for all the many sites out there with tunes to grasp for. I am thankful for the Collings OM1 guitar that has been the love of my musical life for over a decade now. I am thankful for my Rigel A mandolin, which has seen me through jams and gigs across the country and never let me down, and for the little rough and ready Recording King 000 guitar that has my back when the going gets a little too tough for the Collings. I am thankful for electric tuners and for metronomes, and for Amazing Slow Downer. I am thankful for those who bring live music to the area, and for those who make music festivals work. I am thankful for jams, for open mics, for Kamps, and the multitude of musical friends and acquaintances I've made over the years.

I'm thankful for books and writing: for novels, for non-fiction, for poetry. I am thankful for words, for all the richness and nuances of the English language, for all the languages that brought it into being. I am thankful that we have written means to express and record these words. And I am thankful for writing tools: for Parker 51s and Pelikans and Lamy 2000s; for Noodler's ink; for pencils; for Clairefontaine and Rhodia notebooks and notepads; for Staples bagasse paper and cheap Walmart "Made in Brazil" composition books.

I'm thankful for typewriters; for the marvelous Olympia SG-1, for Bernard the SG-3, for the mojo Hermes 3000, for Stinky and the pretty SM-9, and for the homely but comfortable Galaxie Deluxe. I'm thankful for ink ribbons and Duffy Moon typing paper and BAROPS. I'm thankful for clickity-clack ding. I'm thankful for that nifty paper load lever on the SG-1. I am thankful for pretty Flickr typewriter pictures, and for typecasters of all stripes. I'm thankful there are still such things as typewriter repair people in this world.

I am thankful for my Alphasmart Neo--my lean green word-spewing machine. Who could have imagined when the first electric typewriters were coming out that someone would come up with a thing the size and weight of an A4/letter-sized notebook and a battery life of a couple years that could hold an entire book's worth of writing ready to print or store digitally at the touch of a button? It isn't glamorous, but it is a fine companion in these waning days of NaNoWriMo '09.

I am thankful NaNoWriMo is in fact waning. It's been a rough go of it. I've done more writing over the entire year than ever before, and I think have my routines more set than usual, on top of everything else going on this month. As someone who can't think four moves ahead, I need more breathing room to think over the next move each step of the way, and you don't get that with NaNo. A lot of what I end up writing at this excelerated (for me) pace is the thinking space between moves, and it's messy and useless writing that I'd normally try out in my head rather than recording. I don't like that. But I'm thankful for NaNoWriMo for showing me--way back in 2002--that I can write more than those heady first fifteen thousand words--I'd never made it past that point before.

I am thankful for turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and gravy. I am thankful for tea and chocolate. I am thankful for eggnog and coffee--and may the twain meet with frequency over the next month, even though I'm not typically a sweet coffee person. I make an exception for eggnog.

I'm not thankful I have to work on Friday, but I am thankful I have a job I mostly like and am mostly pretty good at.

I am incredibly blessed.