About Me

11 Years

For some strange reason, WordPress thinks that I registered on June 5th, 2011. The first post I made with this account is actually dated November 14th, 2010, so I haven’t the slightest clue where this “anniversary” came from.

In June 2011, my husband and I were living in San Diego. We had been together for about a year and a half, shit had officially hit the fan, and all of my prior friends and family were eagerly letting me know how much of an epic failure I was … Just in case you were wondering where my cynicism came from.

I have nothing good to say about 2011.

We were so far down on the nobody list, random strangers confessed their deepest, darkest secrets to us — I’m pretty certain they told us things that they wouldn’t even tell their therapists. This became a huge influence on the direction I ended up going with my life, and shaped many of my inner philosophies.

Southern California was hideously expensive, so we left at the end of July. We haven’t visited since, or even considered the possibility of vacationing there. I’m sorry, but the price of milk was absurd back then, and it’s only gotten worse.

I’m not even going to mention gas prices.

About Me

Dear Diary

My lips are finally getting some color back, and I’m managing to make it through the day without a nap. Yesterday I had enough energy to put Baby Boy in the sling and bake a batch of chocolate chip cookies.

That’s the secret to getting anything done with a newborn, you know: Baby wearing. I like the carriers made out of soft, stretchy fabrics. The other secret is nursing pillows, for sit-down projects like knitting or writing.

I’m craving a slow cooked pot roast with plenty of potatoes and carrots, so we’ll aim for that next.

But no onion.

Onion always results in a fussy baby with a gassy tummy afterwards.

About Me

Dear Diary

I finished off the liquid iron that I was on, and have since taken a small step backwards in my recovery — I lost enough blood during my last labor to leave me anemic. I’m mostly feeling a little more tired, and a little more out of it mentally.

I’m torn on continuing another round of liquid iron, but I hate the taste. I’ve decided to see how the chelated pills treat me, and I have no plans on physically exerting myself any time soon.

I also need to do a bit better on keeping up with my hydration, but the kids keep drinking all of my electrolyte stuff every time I mix up a pitcher, lol. Maybe I should get a bigger pitcher.

Baby boy likes having his hair stroked.

I spent some time poking around my crafting room yesterday, and I have Way. Too. Much. Yarn. Need to do something about that.

About Me

Live Grenade

The best marriage advice I’ve ever been given wasn’t intended as such at all.

Actually, I overheard Some Old Guy warning my husband that being married to a woman was like having a live grenade in your pocket.

And I decided that I didn’t want to be the sort of wife who was remembered as the psychotic ex, turning her husband into a 60-year-old MGTOW and alienating her children.

Turns out, the simple resolve to not randomly explode has made me extremely atypical.

About Me

I’m really glad that I wrote Alice and the Warden.

Since I’m expecting #6, I’ve been ravenously hungry for stories about pregnancy and babies. Heck, I even watched Bridget Jones’s Baby, even though I don’t remotely care for the subgenre.

Unfortunately, the majority of stories love to revolve around the “pregnancy is shameful and/or dangerous!” trope. Either female characters are moaning about how their life is over, or it literally comes close to ending because of some pregnancy related complication.

Aaaand it doesn’t stop there. After the baby is born, there’s the constant complaining about how a helpless human needs someone to care for it — as if being depended on is the worst thing that can happen. “Woe is me! I can’t be selfish all the time anymore!”

It’s so sickening.

Especially because I know women who are like that in real life.

Me? I’m the sort of person that wears jewelry that depicts pregnancy. I firmly believe in honoring the Divine Feminine, and rant about how our Christian-normative society demonizes the most powerful magic women possess: the ability to create new life. Not everyone thinks that the very existence of humanity is something shameful.

While the homebirthing community has plenty of women similar to me, none of them are writing novels. Too many of them have gone off-grid, I guess.

I’ve spent the last several months trying to find decent stories about pregnancy and babies, but now I’ve given up. I’m reading my own novel.

Alice is so sweet and loves her family so much, it’s like a breath of fresh air. Finally, a character who is full of hope and doesn’t hate everything about life.

In a very literal sense, I wrote that novel for myself.

About Me

Pi Day

It’s kind of funny, but I was introduced to Pi Day through my calculus class. It was a very nerdy little celebration the teacher put on for us students, but it tickled my fancy to no end. Ever since, I’ve always had pie on Pi Day.

At some point, it became popular. Suddenly everyone was going on about “Pie Day,” including several whom I’m pretty certain had no clue what pi was.

And all I could think was, “You’re ruining it.”

About Writing


My big complaint about CR1515 is that I feel like I’m only writing half the story.

So far, Talon exists as a prop. He’s there for the first few paragraphs, then vanishes forever — something that’s driving me batty. I want him to exist as a character, and to establish a solid foundation that helps the reader understand Aurora’s emotional conflict over the situation she finds herself in.

When I talked with my husband about the troubles I’m having with this story, he suggested that I change the first chapter to focus on Talon’s perspective, and end it with the sinking realization that his girlfriend has vanished. It’s a brilliant idea, and I love it.

But it also puts me in the same position I am in with The Scion Suit; I currently can’t maintain a masculine frame of mind for the life of me.

I adore masculine characters, so I don’t want to phone it in or force it. They need to flow naturally and keep consistent personalities.

Writing hasn’t been going all that smoothly with this pregnancy anyway; at this point I feel like waiting it out isn’t going to make much of a difference. Everything I’ve written is very likely going to need to be rewritten anyway.

About Me

An arm

I was searching for inkle loom designs when this popped up (yeah, I don’t know how the two are supposed to be related either).

It made me laugh, because as a Millennial, I’ve spent my entire adult life joking about how everything costs an arm, a leg, and your firstborn child.

Gosh I wish I could have been so privileged.