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I've been writing since I was a kid - poetry, short stories, daydreams that never made it to the page, night dreams, or what I like to call Nightflix, with threads woven out of both the mundane and the fantastic - images I can never seem to capture once I've woken. A good chunk of my whole life is lived inside my head where, much to their chagrin, I create pedestals for the people I love. (Luckily I'm not too attached to those concepts. No one has to be who they are not. I merely take the best that I see in them and elevate it in my mind.) I have long lived on what-ifs and maybes and supposition, and I find that, at the tender age of nearly 36, it's time to put those brain games on paper.

So, I'm working on writing a novel and it's happening sloooooowwwwly. But I'm pretty sure that's just going to be the nature of this character-centered, complex, dystopian story of struggle with its diverse, intersectional cast of characters. I've got a framework down, I daydream about it daily, and now I'm working on getting to know my characters (and forming a plot as I go along). We'll see if this venture leads anywhere. It's definitely more material than any of my other attempts.

I'm also looking for a fucking job. It turns out that a bachelor's degree in history and a master's degree in gender and sexualities don't translate well into the job-finding real world. Keep your fingers crossed for me, please!

And in other news, the kids just returned from a 3 week sojourn with their grandparents and father. Somehow, over just the last two days, the bathroom is again full of toys, there are crumbs and sticky drops of who-knows-what on the kitchen floor, and silence has fled. We're so glad to have them home!
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So, this day is trying to kill me. It's windy outside so I go out to close the big sun-shade umbrella and there are wasps! Luckily none got me as I flailed and screeched and ran away. THEN, I'm roasting a chicken and smell burning (keep in mind I'm a hobby chef) so I open the oven to find out WTF and FLAMES SHOOT OUT singeing my hair and eyebrows. Protip: Make sure to cook the alcohol off of cooking sherry before using it in the oven. I'm PRETTY sure that's what caused the flames (even thought it's never happened with any other wine).

Anyway, dinner seems to be coming along fine now. I've washed my hair but can still smell it. And I'm unsure of how I'll reopen the umbrella without a bee suit. Any suggestions?

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