My favorite candy is toffee, chocolate covered or not. I like the caramelized sugar and butter flavor and the brittle texture (although I like soft toffee, I prefer the hard kind). I find it hard to resist toffee, and I have to be careful not to eat the whole tin.
I can remember the last time I had toffee. It was a Heath Bar blizzard from Dairy Queen some weeks ago. Heath bars aren’t even the best toffee, but it satisfied my urges. I prefer homemade toffee, but I get that so seldom.
This post is making me hungry for toffee, especially the toffee in the picture above, which looks homemade. There’s no place to get it around here, so I will have to imagine it.
Yesterday I wrote that I was not too concerned about life because I’ve survived a lot. That is a lie — I am very concerned with what the US government is currently doing. I don’t care if Elon Musk is trying to save us money — he has no right to have his fingers in the government agencies to begin with. The end does not justify the means. Trump’s executive orders make him an autocrat and the US a dictatorship.
I don’t know where our government is. I don’t know why Congress hasn’t stepped in and prevented Musk’s plundering of information. If there is no way to prevent this, there are fatal flaws in our government based on trust of a president. What’s stopping a president from ruling by executive order? Nothing, apparently. Trust has eroded, and chaos isn’t far away.
I realize I have to live in-between these moments, within the chaos, and find joy outside the news. I try my best.
As I get older, I get less stressed about the outside world. Maybe this is a bad thing these days with all the chaos in our government, but I feel like I’ve survived everything that life has thrown at me so far, including some things that should very well have killed me (like getting in the car with an impaired driver).
If I can’t do anything about life throws at me, then there’s nothing to gain by panic. I will survive, or I will not, and if I do not, then I won’t know what happened. It’s a fatalistic stance, I guess. But I think it’s a natural consequence of getting older.
I’m planting seeds for a spring herb garden today. Just a few for now; it’s early times yet for seed starting. I received some herb seeds (lots of herb seeds) from my sister for Christmas. I’m converting one particular raised bed in my neglected garden into an herb garden.
I have a grow room in my basement. The shelves were already existent; we set fluorescent lights over each of the shelves and put some heat mats in. There’s a reflective surface on the opposite wall so that the light doesn’t lose itself in a corner. It’s a near-ideal setup for starting seeds, although it could use a little cleaning up.
The challenge is going to be keeping the garden weeded. I don’t have the stamina for weeding, so it falls to my husband, who doesn’t really recognize weeds from herbs. I will mark the herbs well, so that he can find them. Wish me luck.
I haven’t had great, amazingly fantastic news in so long, I have to use my imagination to think about what I would do if I got it. Luckily I have a great imagination. Maybe this is a factor in getting older, but I’ve gotten more bad news (like people dying) than good news these last several years.
Wow paper background with colorful geometric confetti. Vector illustration.
What would be great, amazingly fantastic news? Winning the lottery or snagging an agent, winning an award at work or selling a lot of books. Maybe I expect more from great news than I did when I was younger; I’m not sure.
The first thing I would do if I got great, amazingly fantastic news is let my husband know. Probably by text, because I’m not a big one for phone calls. It’s not a terribly exciting answer, but there it is. His response would be “Yay!” because he’s not an excitable person.
We’d probably celebrate later at a local restaurant, and we would discuss what to do with this great, amazingly fantastic (I love that phrase) thing that befell us, because even great, amazingly fantastic things have consequences.
I’m going to sit here and think of great, amazingly fantastic news. I’ll let you know if anything comes my way. After I tell my husband.
My students tell me that Midwestern Female Syndrome doesn’t exist anymore. Or, rather, they looked at me cockeyed when I explained it. So today’s women don’t feel a need to hide their accomplishments, or fear being honest on a job application because it’s ‘bragging’. As one student put it, “Damn right I’m proud of my good grades!”
Final exam marked with A+ with red pencil.
I am very glad to hear this, and a bit envious. As a member of the generation that was brought up to fear of being caught being successful, I laud my students’ lack of baggage. They never had to put up with a parent saying, “Maybe you shouldn’t act so smart” or “Maybe you should lose once in a while.” They never hid their grade on their exam sheet (thus the quote in the first paragraph) hoping nobody would see it. They will not struggle in a job interview.
I have never felt such an acute difference between generations.
No, really, I do not. I just got off a long break three weeks ago, and I don’t need a break this soon. But I’d really like a break.
I don’t get another break till late March. I used to teach at a college that believed students needed a three-day weekend every six weeks, so that they didn’t tear down the residence halls or do something else stupid. They might have had a point — maybe we all need a three-day weekend every few weeks so that we don’t do something stupid.
I think, if I had a break, I would rest all day. I feel like I could sleep a few hours right now. That’s how winter affects me (although it’s 40 degrees out at the moment). So my break would be me reclined on the couch sleeping. That actually sounds good right now.
According to some marketing sources, I should be mentioning my books once every three days as a ‘content creator’. I think that’s a bit excessive and that you don’t want to hear about them that often. This is probably part of my Midwestern Female SyndromeTM, where I want to be perfect and to avoid attention at the same time.
I can see where Midwestern Female SyndromeTM can get in the way of selling books. I believe, to some small extent, that our feelings and thoughts and attitudes affect outcomes. Not necessarily in a woo-woo way, but that internal baggage keeps us from doing the things we need to do to succeed. I’m sure this is the case with me. Notice I even put ‘content creator’ in quotation marks.
I’m not sure how to get rid of the internal baggage about writing and selling my books. One piece of advice that I should follow is “fake it until you make it”, but that sounds too much like a grifter’s motto to me. My approach has been to hope that something external brings me to the attention of readers (that is besides the marketing I do here, in my newsletter, on Bluesky and Threads, on Facebook …) It’s not that I don’t market, or that I don’t market often, but that I don’t market with confidence, and maybe that shows.
So, if you want, check out my author’s page right here.
I don’t ask for much, and this includes ideal days.
My ideal day usually happens on a Saturday or Sunday. The best of these days happens in Kansas City while on a mini-vacation. My husband and I wake up in a hotel room and stretch and yawn, then get dressed up for a day of wandering.
My favorite breakfast is at Eggtc, which is a breakfast restaurant in the KC area. I usually order something bad for me, although sometimes I eat the avocado toast. From there, we go to Broadway Cafe, with the goal of some writing time. I like the Cafe’s coffee, and so I drink less coffee at Eggtc to make sure I don’t get over-caffeinated.
We stay at the Cafe for a while. Part of the reason we’re in KC is for a writing retreat. We probably stay there till lunch, and then go to lunch at Choga in Overland Park. we don’t get to eat Korean food often. We usually order dolsot bibimbap, which is a sizzling rice bowl with Korean vegetables and bulgogi.
After this, we go to Whiskers Cat Cafe and play with the cats there. Mind you, we have three cats at home, but it’s fun playing with the cat residents there, especially the kittens in their enclosures. After Whiskers, we may go back to the room to rest, or maybe to the Cafe again. Dinner is likely to be ordered in through Door Dash.
It’s not an exciting day, but it’s ideal as far as this old lady is concerned.
Today definitely feels like a Monday, and it’s barely started.
What does a Monday feel like? It starts with the desire to stay in bed all day. Blinking away the last wisps of sleep, I crawl out of bed and stub my toe. I hobble to the bathroom and look in the mirror. My hair looks like it’s been styled by a demon.
I have a whole day to get through. With office hours and a meeting all afternoon, I should be busy. But I suspect the hours will go slowly and I will miss the weekend all the more.
Words Like Me 