Insomnia Is Not For Sissies

Okay, so once again it is midnight and my alarm clock is just sitting there on the nightstand, mocking me with its nasty little blinking LCD.

And once again I am lying awake, wondering if it's too late to go back to sleep, calculating how much time I have left to sleep if I can get back to sleep in the next ten minutes, and sending evil thoughts to my spousal equivalent who could sleep standing up if the need ever arose.

Sleeplessness is nothing new for me. Some of my earliest memories are of lying awake, tossing and turning and praying to pleasegodpleasegodpleasegod let me fall asleep, all the while remaining wide awake. In the course of those early years of insomnia, I tried to take the sage advice of my elders. My mother advised me to, "Close your eyes and think of Jesus."

Maybe the Jesus Thing would have worked if she hadn't been raised Catholic, and had a crucifix with Our Lord and Savior bleeding to death hung at the end of my bed. This did little to assuage the sleep demons, and in fact, incited guilt and fear and more reasons to lose sleep.

My grandmother used to tell me to close my eyes, then she would brush her calloused thumbs over my closed lids in a rhythmic, slow slide that often did send me off to la la land. Alas, these days I don't know anyone with calloused thumbs, aside from One Legged Bob (he holds up a sign at the corner of Braker and Mopac proclaiming his One Legged-ness). While I often give him a dollar on the way to work, inviting him to my home to rub my eyes would probably not be relaxing for either one of us.

I'm pretty sure this is not a condition that plagues only authors, although Sara Bird recently told me that she takes half an Ambien and falls right to sleep.

I think that's wonderful. But Ambien has been known to cause certain members of my family fall into a deep and peaceful sleep only to wake up naked in the rose bushes. Of course, that person also knocks the wonder drug back with Grand Marnier, but who's to say that that's what causes the Naked Thing?

Better to be safe than sorry--no Ambien. My little desperate housewife neighborhood couldn't handle that kind of pressure.

During these long moments of sleep-deprived dementia, I worry. I worry about the world peace, starving children, the new book I'm supposed to be writing, and the books I've already written, even though I know there is nothing I can do about them now. This thought pattern usually devolves into worrying about where I put my keys earlier, if I remembered to lock my drawer at work and the difference between infer and imply.

It is in these moments that flashes of brilliance befall me, and I jerk upright in bed to scribble them down before I forget. Of course, the night's Flash o' Brilliance is rarely as brilliant as I thought, and that's only if it's actually legible.

So now I have two more things to worry about tonight: The fact that I'm not as brilliant as I think I am, and now I have ink stains on my sheets.

Insomnia is not for sissies, but it is, apparently, for whiners.

Stuff I've Written (as opposed to stuff I wish I'd written)

Okay, so I'm getting back into freelance writing thing, which means rooting through Google, old files and all other venues that have provided a financial platform for all the tiny thoughts that glom together in my brain--occasionally in coherent, if not witty and intelligent, fashion. Here are some of my favorites . . .

This was a cool assignment from Writer's Magazine, that required some cool interviews, some semi-cool research, and only two-and-a-half bourbon and Diet Cokes.




As for stuff I wish I'd written (not including anything written by Dorothy Parker, Lillian Hellman, Raymond Chandler or Dashiell Hammett): The Secret Life of Bees, Out of Africa and I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings.

There are more to this list, but these are my trusty shelf of Always Reads that I save for when times get tough, like when I'm selling a house, or moving, or something is canceled, ie West Wing and Calvin and Hobbes.

What are your Always Reads?

Aaarrrggghhh! I'm selling my house!

Okay, so I know there are a million things worse than selling a house, and I realize this because trust me, I've been through all of them. So, we get a contract, they want us out by April 25th *that is not a typo* and then last night they back out. I'm still in shock. We were getting all our stuff into storage, buying an RV to live in, and the suckers backed out.

So that I don't go into an all out coronary, I am regrouping. And, I've made a major, difficult decision.

I am *gasp* selling my stuff.

There's something to be said about downsizing, especially since everyone in my family is fundamentally opposed to it. When I say they're opposed to it, what I mean is they ask me to store all their stuff. Enough stuff already! Yes, it's good stuff, and yes, it brings back many happy memories, but enough is enough!

It was painful, but I sold all of my bookshelves today, and am in the process of putting all my other stuff on Craigslist.org. You don't realize how hard some of this stuff is to part with until people start putting their hands all over your stuff, then start loading it into the back of their mini-van. I feel better about the bookshelves because they went to a good home--a four-year-old little girl clad in SpongeBob jammies, who climbed into the bookshelves and asked me if she could have one of my books. I get asked this a lot, but not often from a dimpled, tow-headed four-year-old who got out of bed to come see my bookshelves.

Since some of you have asked me what I'm letting go, I will post here, along with the story behind the stuff, because, if you are a writer, you know there is always some Big Thing attached to each and every thing in your head, heart and house (all of which could be called the same thing imho).

So, Here's the chair I sat in R's lap as he asked me to move in with him. I'm asking $50. And one of the two file cabinets that I stored all the research for both Scoop & Dead Copy. (Those are going for $10 each). The lawn chairs I bought for $90 each, but am letting go for $30 each because where I'm going I'm not going to have a yard for a long, looooong time. Then there are my grandmother's suitcases, all three for $30, and the cow skull I got in Mexico to celebrate my divorce from the King of the Rednecks (look for that book soon). Make me an offer on the skull. But I will tell you, it has really good mojo. If any of this looks interesting, shoot me an email and make me an offer. I'm off to go on a photo safari to get rid of more of my stuff... kitfrazier@yahoo.com

And btw, the house is for sale too.

The Axis of Eagle, and The Big Dig

Okay, sorry for the pun but I couldn't resist. Being at home sick with the election process burrowing into my brain like hormonal wood tick has gotten to me. But there were axis, and eagles and a dig site the size of the neighborhood HEB. And so goes the weekend.

I'm still sick as a dog (I coughed and blew my nose so hard this week the doc says I actually blew a hole in each of my ear drums--now when I blow my nose, I hear this horrible whistling noise), but, I got some good writing done and managed to get out of the house after being in bed for a week and a half to go feed the cattle and see what the dredger did on the lake property. The calves are big and getting bigger, but still so cute, and Opa got 12 more calves, so a big time all the way around. R loaded up the feeders. I helped, of course, by cheering him on and playing with the calves. It's tough work, but somebody's gotta do it.

Next, we dropped by for a visit with the eagles. They were there together, steadfast, protecting their nest like a sweet old married couple. A whole group of people were lined up by the road, chatting and making friends over wildlife. I can't help but think there's a metaphor in there somewhere, but I'm sick. I'll look for it later.

Later, at the property we saw Canadian Geese that had migrated down from the land of Universal Healthcare and affordable medicine. As an aside, geese, like Bald Eagles, also pair for life. I'm sensing a theme lately . . .

Later, we saw the biggest Axis deer I've ever seen. Like the Canadian Geese, the Axis don't really belong here, but are here on a work visa to entertain the likes of us. His horns were at least three feet long! When we first saw him, he was on his hind legs knocking down branches to eat the leaves. It was an amazing sight.

The only bump in the weekend was the job the dredger did. I was really disappointed to see the progress on the digging out the mud, muck and flotsam that stormed into the cove during the flooding last summer. The water raged down the canyon so hard it rammed a slab of concrete that was bigger than a Prius into the middle of the cove and sat it up on it's edge like Stone Henge. I guess we should be thankful it's not submerged where someone could hit it. Or dive on top of it.

The only disappointing thing (but it was a BIG disappointment) this weekend was that the dredger guy shoved all that dirt up toward the island, so instead of the channel being deeper, it's actually more shallow. I'm so disheartened, and I just want to send him the page in Websters that says, "Dredge: shipping transitive and intransitive verb to clear, deepen, or widen a waterway, especially one intended for shipping, using a dredge."

I really want to growl, "What were you thinking?" and "We want our money back." *sheesh* So, next weekend, we're getting out the shovels. I'll bring the beer if you'll bring the backhoe . . .

So, back to the digital grindstone tomorrow. I've been off for almost 14 days, but being laid out with a cold doesn't seem like much of a rest . ..

The Eagles are Back!

The Bald Eagles are back! If you haven't seen this astonishing sight, you should pack yourself a lunch and some cold co-colas, bring the binocs and settle in to quietly observe the pair of big birds hunting, fishing and feeding their eaglettes.

Each year the birds come back, build on to their already enormous nest and start hatching their young'uns, and each year we line up to watch as Mama fluffs in the nest, and Daddy makes breathtaking sorties from the highest branch, circles the horizon and comes back with dinner--rabbits, snakes (ick), and the occasional but thrilling fish. These are the same two eagles that come every year, and as a special note to my romance-writing friends, eagles mate for life. A good example as the National Bird if we can follow :)

Last weekend I saw two scruffy looking little poults, but I couldn't get a picture *guess who's asking for a better camera for her birthday*
If you go, remember not to disturb them, it is, afterall, their nursery, and it's against the law. And it's not very nice.The Llano eagle nest is about 100 yards off of Hwy. 29 halfway between Llano and Buchanan Dam.
Click Here for Map to the Eagles (Warning! Clicking this button is a promise that you will not be mean to the eagles!)

Fun Eagle Facts:

• Eagles mate for life
• The Llano Eagle nest is the furthest west nest recorded in the state of Texas.
• The Eagles usually stay through February
• The female Eagle's wingspan ranges from 75" to 90."
• She can fly 20 to 40 mph
• She can dive at speeds exceeding 100 mph.
• Bald Eagles weigh between 10 and 14 pounds
• They live an average of 15 to 20 years.
• Photo of the eagle in flight is by Bob Owens at San Antonio Express News.
  

Holy Cow! I'm in Southern Living Magazine!

So just when you think life can't get any better, or busier, it up and does. Recently, a reader emailed me to tell me I'm in Southern Living!

Of course, I didn't know it, nor did I quite believe it, but there I am, plain as day, signing books at Girlfriend Weekend! And listed as a "Writing Star of Texas!" . . . whoo hoo! (for you Yankees, that means, "Hooray!")

Yeah, that's me, ponytail and all, signing books and looking like I don't know what the hell I'm doing.

And cool too is the fact that two of the three of my biggest backers, Tahoe and my mama, are right there with me, helping me with marketing (*snort* "Buy my daughter's book or you'll rue the day . . ."--thanks Mom :).

It was a fabulous weekend, I got to meet, have lunch, drink bourbon and Diet Coke with Sara Bird, Carol Dawson, Cyndi Hughes, David Marion Wilkinson, and THE fabulous Sam Barry of Harper Collins who still owes me for the tiara he swiped during the downing of said bourbon and Diet Cokes. We'll talk later, Sam :)

And of course, the pinnacle of the party was the "Queen of All Things Literary & Sparkly," her ownself Kathy Patrick! It was a weekend from heaven, aka an East Texas Book Festival, (until Tahoe got sick, which is a totally different story *thanks again, Mama*), and I urge you, if you get the chance, get yourself and your BFF a good heaping helping of southern literary fare at this year's Girlfriend Weekend, and make sure you snag a copy of Kat's new book, The Pulpwood Queens' Tiara-Wearing, Book-Sharing Guide to Life. And a great big Texas smooch to Gary D. Ford, for a great Southern Living article!

On a very personal note, thanks to Sara for encouraging me to write down my adventures of living, loving and surviving a redneck. More on that to come. . .

And thanks to everyone for writing to ask when the next Cauley book will be out. More on that soon.
Love,
Kit

Back from the Ranch, fa la la la & Yummy Christmas Recipes!

Once again we spent the weekend up to our eyelashes in cattle, deer and sausage making activities. And for those of you who've asked, here's Butterscotch, or as we like to call her, "The Calf Who Lived."

Got some really good writing done *stay tuned on that one,* and of course, cooking like a maniac. This week is party central, and the train doesn't stop until New Year's Eve, which has me thinking about Year End (Year Beginning?) resolutions.
Right now I can only resolve to try to slow down a little and smell the cactus roses. And cook for my friends. So, in the interest of full public disclosure, I'm posting my favorite holiday recipes in the order that I'm cooking them (except for Emily McKay's World's Most Delicious Oatmeal Cranberry Cookies, which I bake all season long).

For the ARWA Christmas Party tomorrow, I'm bringing that dangerous southern favorite, Sausage Cheese Balls, made with venison right off the ranch.

Kit's Magic Disappearing Cheese Balls
1-pound ground venison breakfast sausage
3 cups Bisquick
4 cups grated sharp Cheddar
1/8 tablespoon pepper
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Place a sheet of parchment paper over a baking sheet.

Combine all ingredients in a large glass bowl. Mix well with your fingers. The mixture will be very crumbly. Form into 1 inch balls, squeezing the mixture so it holds together, then rolling it between the palms of your hands to form balls. *Make sure you have clean hands!* Tip: Keep a bowl of ice water near by, as it makes it easier to form the balls if your hands are cold.

Place the balls on the baking sheet. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes or until golden brown. This recipe makes about 4 dozen cheese balls, but remember: Save out a few for yourself, because there won't be any left.