It's all about the pie.

We all know that our lives are full of choices. There are so many metaphors in our culture that refer to choices: a fork in the road, a flip of a coin... but really, most choices involve much more than a simple yes or no.

Since Thanksgiving is just past, and many of us are still fondly remembering pie, consider this: three people are sitting at a counter in a diner, and a waitress is about to ask them if they want a piece of cherry pie for desert. Okay, you say, so it will end up that either all will have pie, or none will, or two will and one won't, or one will and two won't. Simple math. But is it?

The waitress asks the first customer, "Would you like a piece of cherry pie?"

"Yes, but I'd like it warm."

"Okay, would you like ice cream on it?"

"Yes, vanilla."

"Do you want whipped cream?"

"Yes, but only a little bit."

"Okay." The waitress turns to the next person.

"Would you like cherry pie?"

"Yes, but just a small piece, and not warmed up, and no ice cream, and a whole lot of whipped cream."

You see? Choices. Not simple yes or no, because there are degrees of yes and no. You might decide on cherry pie, but how you eat your cherry pie, and how much of it you choose to have, might not be the same as what your neighbor might choose.

Now the waitress turns to the third person.

"Would you like a piece of cherry pie?"

"No, but I would like that piece of apple pie I see in that case over there."

So there you have it. Sometimes your choices aren't limited to the ones offered to you. Sometimes there are better choices out there, if you are observant and see the apple pie tucked in the back of the case, maybe hidden away for the waitress's break. (But we'll discuss how our choices affect other people in another blog.)

Of course, all three people might be affected differently by their decision to have pie. One might get sick from it, or gain weight. Maybe another has been having a bad day but the pie cheers him so much he buys his teenager a new car on the way home. Maybe one of them is late to work, and eating the pie will get him fired.

Maybe the waitress, angered that she can't have her apple pie on her break, will be in a bad mood and won't make enough tips that afternoon to buy groceries. (Okay, I said we wouldn't talk about that, but I changed my mind. What can I say? I can be fickle that way, just ask Rainie!)

As for me, I have trouble choosing between apple and cherry, at least at Thanksgiving. So I often take a half slice of cherry and a half slice of apple, preferring to have less of each so I can have both. Sometimes I just have a cup of coffee and skip the pie.

I hope no one was hoping for any profound advice on making life choices, because I really don’t have any, except to say...

Relax. And eat your pie.

Like Pooh in Piglet's window....

Okay, so I have writer’s block. No big deal...

Except, of course, it is! I am currently working on three separate projects: book five of the Rainie series, Book four of The Red Wolves, and book two of Shadow. For any of you who have read all three, you know that these are three very different series, written from different perspectives, in different voices, in different moods. Surely I should be able to work on at least one of them.

Nope. Not happening.

So I dusted off a really old project, the first fantasy novel I ever attempted, tentatively called “Shattered World.” It is as different from the other three projects as they are different from each other. I was certain it would kick start whatever synapses aren’t firing in my usually prolific brain.

Still not working.

It’s time to pull out the big guns.

I’m going to cook.

Over the weekend I made potato soup and chili. This week I think homemade chicken and noodles, maybe some stir fry... maybe a bit of baking and fudge making is in order, as well.

Yes, we are getting to the crux of the matter. Writer’s block is fattening.

They don’t warn you about that in creative writing class, do they?

And yes, I have tried walking and Pilates, and a long drive, and a hot bath, and reading other people’s books to give my own characters time to rest. I have read the newspaper, texted friends, read a couple of dozen random words and definitions in my favorite dictionary. I took pen in hand and put it to paper, hoping that familiar old connection would help. All that got me was some bad poetry, and that isn’t what I need to be working on.

I’m stuck like a twig in a logjam. Like Pooh in Piglet’s window. Like the little boy in Timmy’s well. Like a standard bolt on a metric screw.

I’m blocked like a car at a police roadblock. Like a drain full of grease and hair. Like grandpa after eating a half pound of cheese.

Okay, you probably get the picture.

So, once again I must apologize to those of you waiting for the next book of... well, anything that I’m writing. I promise it will all be written eventually.

In the meantime, I will cook and cook and cook... and at least my family should be satisfied... if a bit heavier by the time I start to write again...

Why poets have to work for a living....

Just for fun, I thought I would share some of Rainie Lovingston's poetry with you. I offer no judgment on it's quality, except to say that perhaps Rainie shouldn't quit her day jobs...

Scintillating rain falls

Silver lines on the window

Dazzling widened eyes

Lightning flashes out

Slicing the darkening sky

Here and quickly gone

Thunder following

Deep rumbling roar warning

There is more to come

Hearts tremble with fear

More primal than love’s beat

Can this be the one

Wild winds blowing east

Take the breath from young and old

And leave us quiet

Contemplating life

And our light, tenuous hold

On all things thought dear

Until the storms pass

And we revel in sunshine

And laugh at our fear

Here are a couple of gems from her "published" works, mentioned in Rainie Daze:

I love you because

 You don’t see my blemishes

 You don’t see the ugliness in me

You see the person you believe me to be

  And through your eyes

  I am a better person

And another one:

I love you

  Because I do

And sometimes

  That is all that matters

How to Write a Book

People often tell me they would love to write a book, but they don’t know where to start. The best advice I can give is to sit down and start writing... and let the book start itself.

The thing is, some books don’t start at the beginning. They start at the end, or the middle, or just some random page in between. Sometimes they start with just a tiny seedling of an idea, like a scrap of thought almost too ephemeral to catch hold; other times they spring forth nearly fully grown, and it’s a race to see if you can get all the words written before they die of old age.

A good book is happening all around you, every day, every moment. It’s called life. Not just your own, although some people’s lives would qualify as a good story all on their own. A good book includes many characters and life events, and if you want to write a good story you have to pay attention to those.

A random encounter with a clerk at the grocery store, or maybe just with someone who holds a door for you on a blustery day; those are the characters that should populate your book. A passing comment overheard in the grocery store can often blossom into a juicy tale, or maybe you can just expound on something you wish would happen to you.

Ultimately, I think if you truly want to write a book, you will. In fact, you probably won’t be able to stop yourself from doing so, no matter what (job, housework, kids, noisy neighbors, floods and icebergs) gets in your way. If I had been on the Titanic and they told me to get on the lifeboat, I probably would have made them wait while I ran back for my notebook and pen.

It’s just what writers do: we write.

Just look at the eight linear feet of filled spiral bound notebooks on my office shelf, or the hard drive filled with my many Word documents, and you will see the proof.

So, if you want to write a book, go buy yourself a new notebook and a good pen. Then... go shopping, or bowling, or take a cruise to Alaska. It doesn’t matter much; just go out and live, and then... write it down.

Like a rock skipping across my stream of consciousness...

A sampling of this morning's thoughts...

The question is often asked, “If you could go back in time and change one thing about your life...” But all I can think of are the consequences that might come of that one change. My life is what it is because of ALL the events that have shaped it... and in the end, I wouldn’t risk losing the best parts of my life to eliminate the worst.

Why is it that the noise of my grandchildren screaming and running through the house is never as loud as when their parents did it?

My client told me the other day that all his aches and pains are worth it. They are the product of more than nine decades running, jumping & climbing while he worked and played, and he’s glad he did it all, and that he was able to do it all... I’m pretty sure there’s a life lesson to be learned there...

People ask me if the characters in my books are based on “real” people. I choose to not answer that, except to say “Truth is stranger than fiction.”

But that being said... many of the events in Rainie’s life are based on true stories.

How much wood would a wood chuck chuck if he had a wood stove?

And why would Sally sell seashells at the seashore when everyone could just pick them up for free? Or is it like the pet rock fad... it’s only cool if you pay too much for it?

A walk in the woods

Our paths in life are not laid out by engineers and civil architects with training in efficiency and logic. Rather, they are cut through the undergrowth as we go, twisting and twining across and adjacent to the paths of others, sometimes becoming one path.

If you have ever followed a wildlife trail, you will see that it often seems random, but really, it isn’t. Deer follow a path that offers the least resistance and offers the most sustenance, with detours to avoid dangers and pitfalls. So do we, although if we are fortunate, we also diverge enough to view a spectacular sight, and pause to take in the details.

Now and then, fear will cause us to rush headlong through the brush, stumbling and breaking our toes and accumulating scratches from the thorns we can’t avoid, and if we run too far we can easily get lost. But most of us eventually find a safe clearing, and after a brief rest we go on, maybe far from our original trail, but once again on the move through this long hike called life.

Along the way we meet fellow travelers, and we might have the opportunity to help them find their clear path, or they might be able to help us find ours.  Others might block your path, even deliberately putting obstacles in your way; climb over them, or go around. Don’t just sit in the dirt and lament that the way has gotten too hard.

Many travelers will keep you company, and make the road seem shorter. Or maybe you will just walk along for a time in companionable silence.

No matter, whatever geography our life path follows, ultimately we are all going to the same destination.  Make the journey count.

Of marching (and sleeping) to a different beat

Circadian rhythms: all biological organisms are subject to them, (at least terrestrial ones) and they follow the twenty-four hour cycle of our planet (perhaps, on other worlds, circadian rhythms follow an eight hour, or twenty four minute cycle, but that is a matter for the great sci-fi authors to address.)

I want to begin by saying that this is in no way to be construed as a scientific article, backed by hours of expensive research. This is based purely on my casual knowledge and some years of personal observation.

I’m sure everyone has heard (or perhaps said) “I’m a morning person.” Or the opposite; some people just don’t seem to function well before noon. The late sleeper is probably not a lazy person, but merely responding to their natural body rhythms.

I’m fairly certain that human beings, in general, are considered diurnal, meaning they are awake in the day and sleep at night, as opposed to nocturnal creatures, such as bats, which terrorize us by flying into our hair after dark (a myth, by the way) and raccoons, which terrorize our trash cans after the sun goes down.

I have known people who worked the overnight shift for years, and seemed to thrive on it, as if they were as nocturnal as a bat. Myself, I worked the third shift for a time, and never could seem to get in sync with it; I would stumble around my days, catnapping here and there, always feeling out of sorts and as if I was a step behind the clock. On the other hand, I can wake up at four a.m., grab a cup of coffee and be ready to take on anything the world has to throw at me.

Our lives can be greatly improved if we listen to our own body clocks and live accordingly. I controlled my migraines for years by simply figuring out when my optimum time for sleep was and sticking to it. If I deviated... well, it wasn’t pretty.

What does all this have to do with either writing or caregiving, you ask... since that is what this blog is supposed to be about.

Well, elders, of course, also have their own circadian rhythms, and if a caregiver wants to enhance their quality of life, it is best to recognize that individual’s timing and organize their days around it.

Again, I can best explain this using a facility vs. home environment. In a nursing facility, everyone is on the same schedule. They pretty much have to be, considering the number of residents each employee has to take care of in a day. So, between six and eight every morning the new shift comes on, gets all the residents out of bed and into wheelchairs on up on walkers and shuffle them off to the dining room for breakfast.

At least a portion of those residents will slump at the table, uninterested in food or conversation, quite possibly snoring away in their chairs. Then, after that lovely meal, they might be escorted to an activity, or physical therapy, where they will continue to slump and snore in spite of the staff’s best efforts to engage them.

I had one particular lady (I will call her “Helen”) who did this in a rehab facility, and they finally sent her home with twenty-four hour care in a wheelchair, saying she would likely never walk again.

At first, when we got her home, the overnight staff, thinking they were being conscientious, always got her up at seven o’clock in the morning, dressed and at the table before I came in at eight o’clock. There she would be, slumped in her wheelchair, ignoring breakfast, cranky and out of sorts until well after noon.

So I told the overnight shift to leave her alone in the mornings, and to let her sleep until she was ready to get up. The next morning she slept until ten o’clock, but when she awoke she was cheerful and cooperative and very hungry! She ate her breakfast and we went out for a walk in the sunshine (pushing her wheelchair) and all in all we had a pretty good day.

The night staff put her to bed at nine... and she had a miserable, restless night.

So, next step was telling the night shift to let her stay up until she announced she was ready for bed. Within a week, she had established a pattern: bed around midnight, up between nine and ten. Within a week after that, she was regularly doing her physical therapy. Within a month, she was back up using her walker.

This has been true of all of the clients I have cared for at home. Some prefer to rise before the sun and go to their beds at eight o’clock. Some just prefer to sleep a few hours at a time around the clock. Whatever; they function best when allowed to follow their own natural rhythms.

Sometimes we can discover a client’s rhythms by talking to them or their families, and asking them what their sleep cycle has been for the last eight or nine decades (although many of us go against those natural rhythms due to necessities of work schedules.) Other times, we just need to sit back and observe.

If you wonder about your own circadian rhythm, the best way to figure it out is to take a few days off your normal routine (at home; travelling tends to put us out of whack) and stop living by the clock. Go to bed when you are sleepy, get up when you wake. After a few days, your body will gratefully fall into its own groove... and I can pretty much guarantee you will feel more refreshed and rested than you have in years.

Try it. And if you have a loved one in your life that seems to be constantly tired, out of sorts and cranky... well, try giving them a few days off, too.