Under the Hood.

Oct 5, 2015 | 4 comments

Last month, I took Ursula to the shop. She’d not been driving right for a while but like a person without health insurance (hey, even in this day and age, it happens), we postponed the mechanic’s diagnosis until I was afraid the visit would be more of an emergency than a check up.

Diagnosis, please.

Diagnosis, please.

I was wonderfully surprised, then, when the call came that Ursula could come home with nothing more than a fluid flush and new power steering fluid reservoir. Sure, it wasn’t the band-aid price I was hoping for, but it was still a lot cheaper than, say, a transmission overhaul.

I was impressed with how much better she ran in such short a time. What had I been afraid of? She didn’t look any different, but boy, howdy! does this baby drive better. A little time, a little investment, and my nearly ten-year-old car received that much desired mechanic’s statement, “You have an excellent car.”

It right there and then squashed my desire to purchase a Chevy Equinox (although I wouldn’t turn one down as a gift. Just sayin’.).

Does that ever happen to you? You think you need a replacement, when all you need is a check up? A little look under the hood, a little TLC to get things back on track? Yeah. So, we’re not gonna count how often that happens to me, okay? Let’s just say this once was the trigger for something else.

I’ve been pretty disorganized for a while now. Pretty afraid to get into the dirt; afraid I might not make it out alive. I’ve been pretty chaotic now and then. At home, with the editing, with the writing. My peeps are always telling me I have too much on my plate. Aaron’s always offering to get me a new plate. Go figure.

MoJo Chaos

MoJo Chaos

In the back of my mind, I knew how to get things straight, but couldn’t make the leap. Happily, it happened a few weeks ago. One thing led to another and instead of rabbit-holing into more chaos, I discovered the one puzzle piece I needed to fit the others around.

It all started with moving my treasured cedar chest into the living room, and moving the computer desk out. I’ve designated about forty square feet in my living room as my writing space. There’s my writing desk and chair, reading chair, rug, bookshelf. I’m set.

MoJo Writes

MoJo Writes

I was inspired. As soon as the living room and writing space were complete, I realized how easy it would be to finally conquer the room that shan’t be opened the room formerly known as Dot’s. It’s been closed off since she left in February. Until now, I’d not been able to bring myself to go in there and clean it out. Sure, she took care of most of it before she left. But I couldn’t go into that half-empty room and face the reality that my daughter moved out and I was alone.

I could, however, face the reality that I had an extra room in my house to fix up the way I wanted. And that’s what I clung to. I opened the door, surveyed the not-so-messy mess, and got to work. With Mom’s help, in just two days, the Narnia Spar Oom and the room now known as the Peacock Room are in order. One is my library. The other is my crafting/activity/game room. The changes are subtle, but empowering.

So naturally it doesn’t stop there.

I’ve been controlling more of my schedule instead of letting things flow. This has opened doors for me to take on new projects and clients, as well as continue the work I’m already doing. Writing. Editing. Social Media. I can do it all, and do more of it, now that I’m organized physically and mentally.

But then there’s this.

I’d been unhappy with the Blog for a while now. Frustrated. And for the better part of three weeks, it wasn’t working right. I couldn’t post. I thought about just giving up and going with a whole new blog. Is this a midlife crisis about to happen? All this let-go-and-move-on-to-something-new way of thinking? Let’s hope not.

With guidance from my webmaster, I decided to take a look under the hood. I spent all of last weekend streamlining pages and categories and fixing photos. That’s no joke. 834 posts. A crazy amount of tags and miscellaneous input. After several restless months and seriously thinking of a change, I like love LOVE Frankly, My Dear . . . and don’t want to leave it.

Remember this?

Baseball on Pitcher's Mound. Frankly My Dear, If You Build It, They Will Come.

Field of Dreams

When my webmaster revamped FMD a few years ago, the response was staggeringly favorable.

And my looking under the hood this weekend brought back that original excitement. I like what we’re doing here. All we needed was a little check up.

So look up at the top menu. You’ll see new Page tabs, and new categories. We’re moving forward, but that doesn’t mean we’re moving. Just like cleaning up Dot’s room, a few things moved to storage. You can search “archived” for all the older, unrelated posts. Everything else has been reviewed and retagged for easier finding. There are a few new sections, too.

Sure, it doesn’t look much different. A little spit and polish is all. But the work under the hood? That makes all the difference in the world.

I hope you’ll stick around for another five years. And more. After all, it’s not the destination, it’s the journey. Am I right?

Keep moving.

Keep moving.

And Frankly, My Dear . . . that’s all she wrote!

Sweeten my tea and share:

How a Bird Bath Destroyed My House

May 10, 2012 | 0 comments

I’ve been wanting a bird bath for almost three years. There was an old plastic one cemented into the ground when I moved in. But it was plastic. In cement. In an awkward place. Needless to say, it was promptly removed and disposed of.

Which left my dirt yard in want of an oasis.

So today Mom and I went to K-Mart and I found this great, short blue marbled ceramic bird bath. We bought it and brought it home. Did I mention it was short?

I placed it in the corner of the makeshift flowerbed under my living room window then went inside. I sat in my Writing Chair off the corner of the living room and looked out the window. The love seat was in the way. The bird bath was too short.

So I went back outside. I moved the bird bath and laid two large bricks, side by side, on their sides, for a base. I moved the bird bath back on top the bricks. I went back inside. I sat in my Writing Chair. The bird bath was still too short.

So I went back outside. I moved the bird bath. Again. I laid two medium bricks, side by side, on their sides, on top the two large bricks. I moved the bird bath back. Again. I went back inside and sat in my Writing Chair. Again. The bird bath was still too short.

I decided to move my love seat. But the only place to put it is where my Writing Chair is. So I moved my Writing Chair. And end table. And vacuumed the floor. And moved the loveseat away from the window. And vacuumed the floor. And moved my Writing Chair in front of the living room window.

The loveseat does not look good where it is. I have to turn my neck back to look out the window. There’s no place for the ottoman.

So I thought about doing that feng shui thing. But I don’t know how. I don’t even really know what it is. But right now, I think my living room has exploded. I’m living proof that the chaos theory is real. And I’m really, really not sure how to fix it. Now that the floors are clean, if I move the furniture back I need to make sure the furniture is also clean. [READ: vacuum fur from five cats off the fabric, and wash the throw blankets and find slipcovers or sheets to further protect everything.]

So half of my living room is a disaster and the other half is in a holding pattern, waiting to see what lands where. And how.

And all I really wanted was just a blue bird bath. Who knew the chaos that would ensue?! But then again, it’s me… this should have been expected.

[Update: it’s three hours later. The bird bath has been moved further out into the yard, closer to the trees. The birds are already much cleaner. The furniture has been moved back to where it all was. It’s much cleaner. The vacuum… well… I’m waiting for the day that vacuums can clean themselves.]

And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!

Sweeten my tea and share: