National November Writing Month.
You can check it out for yourself here. I am by no means a "writer". But I decided that I need to do something that challenges myself. Hence, writing 50,000 words in a month. The ultimate goal is to write a novel. I have no such aspirations. My ultimate goal is write about myself, my life, my thoughts, my goals, etc. Basically this is going to be a big, therapeutic, hard, enlightening, challenging activity. Starting right here with this blog. Well, most of it probably won't be written in my blog. I intend to get down and dirty and deeper than I have ever thought. Kind of like an extended diary. Probably NOT blog material. So Microsoft Word will become my new pal, and you guys can have some updates along the way.
I realize that this is going to be amazingly hard with a baby. But the effort is the most important part of a challenge. So let's do this.
But first, an update.
Emerson is officially crawling and pulling up. She now knows how to let herself down without completely bonking her head on whatever hard objects may be nearby. Apparently this whole diaper thing is pretty awesome. She has some cushion to land on. There's not really a problem with this.... unless I have to walk away for a minute and... oh wait. I can never walk away for a minute anymore. If I walk away, I have about 30 seconds before she realizes I am gone and tries to follow, or dives into something that I told her not to do earlier, i.e. pull ALL of the books off the second and/or bottom row on the bookshelf. She just loves when they fall and FWAT! on the ground. I suppose this is a good thing. I mean, she likes to knock down books right? That will definitely translate into her reading them, right??? I can only hope. I've read* that if babies see their parents reading, they are much more likely to want to read themselves. Joe and I read quite often, so she's probably going to LOVE it. We'll see. Babies are weird little creatures. They don't exactly go by your intended life plan for their lives.
*I now have a complex. I read. Often. I like to be an informed person. If a doctor or someone else smart says something they believe to be true, I almost always research it for myself to see if their opinion is the safest, most helpful. My parents do not. They believe the doctor. Always. So when I say "I read this and..." around them, I always get a look. Or a smirk. Or an eye-roll. This is a bit of a touchy subject for us. We're working on it.
Completely off subject, but: Let me just say Joe's laptop was NOT well designed aesthetically. Okay, maybe I'm using that word wrong but this darn laptop has little tabs that stick up right where your wrists rest as your typing. I have little painful indentions in my arm. Who the heck didn't test drive the laptop for comfort before they marketed and sold this thing? OR, is the blame with the consumer (i.e. JOE), who did not go to a store and test the laptop himself? My husband purchases almost everything online. No one spoke of this design flaw in reviews. I feel it is my civic duty to go to all review boards and post that this joker is a pain. Literally. Unfortunately, I don't know the name nor brand of the laptop... Okay now I know it's a Lenovo from looking at the front. That's all I have. Apparently all owners of this laptop felt the same way and were just like me. Saying "eh... I'm sure SOMEONE will review it." Now I feel guilty. Eh.
I'm already a little weary from writing right now. I think it's because I'm looking around at all of the stuff that I have to do. Staying at home is hard. You can't go to work and come home and chill. The home is your job. Chore-wise, I'm looking at mainly laundry. There's a few dishes to be done. The big job is Emerson's room. Yes, I know. I'm a terrible person who STILL has not cleaned out her daughter's room. To be clear, it was MOSTLY clean. Until Joe needed a transcript for an application, and unloaded the file cabinets onto the desk. And left them there. Bless him, he's the worst cleaner upper EVER. His idea of "cleaning up" is to hide. Or my personal favorite, to make an even bigger mess. Our conversations almost always go something like this:
Him: "Ashley, I cleaned out the closet."
Me: "Awesome. But why is all of this stuff on the floor?"
Him:"Oh. That needs to be put up somewhere since it doesn't go in the closet."
Me:"So... You made more of mess than when you started."
Him:"Um, the closet's clean?"
Me: "argh."
So at some point, I need to get in there and get on it. For now, laundry seems safe.
With that last sentence, I'm at 854 words. 854 out of 50,000. I think I've got this. Maybe.
