it's a bitterly cold day, but i just went outside with the dog and that seemed to make me feel better. i need to get up and around more as my lack of activity has just about made me rust up.

the dog has two balls, one which he refuses to let go of, and the other, as a result, i can kick and he can chase. and that's what we do, only with the first ball in his mouth the whole time. i walk around to where he's struggling to pick them both up in his mouth (he can't do it), and i get the second one out from under him, and i kick it. that was good for about ten minutes. it felt like an hour, it was so cold.

i have to get some of the exercise machinery going. there's one in the garage, but the garage is as cold as the yard. there's one in the basement but you about have to go outside to access it. the stairs are all blocked and in fact i don't like that, i might have to move some water stands out of the way. what if we needed our tornado shelter?

even the ten minutes, in the cold snowy windy grim day, filled me with some kind of oxygen. i am now feeling like i have some choices, like i can do some of the things i want to do.

every day i have a list of way too many things to do. many of them are routine, everyday: read marketing; i'd like to read about 150 pages. one is listen to audiobooks; i'm falling behind on this one. i have to listen as a process of getting used to my cochlear implant. i have things downloaded, and i have favorites, and often i just listen to my own narrators reading my own books. whatever, i need to get started again.


where do you see my writing in here? often i get through the day without doing any. i've gone a few days already without. this is not good. i could be writing here (on one of many blogs), or in my journal (where i chronicle the problems of raising a dmdd boy who is very manipulative and has nothing better to do than get take-out off of his parents, even on thanksgiving) - and believe me i've been mad enough recently to have plenty to say. but unhappily, there is no easy solution. he has nowhere else to go, and the trap we're in, we set it ourselves, and you can't make a sick kid, especially a mentally ill one, just grow up and not be bound up in his mother anymore. it's frustrating but i don't know what else i could do. i give rides. i go get take-out. i try not to get angry. i write in my journal (the journal of anger) - this blog is a little more general and protects his privacy a little better.

but there's more, besides door-dashing, and i'm taking a little break from dashing while he's unstable, my wife needs me, and there's too many other dashers out there anyway. there's work on the various houses - this one, the academy house, and whatever new one he's about to occupy.

back to writing, i have to say that i did finish one book of short stories, and i got a short story into an anthology, which was published yesterday or the day before. that anthology deals with shelter pets and its profits will go to shelters; i like that. things are not all bleak. i'm working on a novel. if i get time i can finish it.

i'd like to do quilting. i'd like to get into my stamps. not sure if i'll ever do these, but it's worth mentioning. it may happen. and then, on saturday, my trip to the new library. see post above. ciao