Nothing but flowers … in the attic

1. Not in a Row

The delay in finishing this latest blog reminds me of a Steven Wright joke. The store says open 24 hours, but when he goes to walk in the sign on the locked door says “Closed.” He knocks. A clerk opens the door a crack. “You’re closed?! The sign says open 24 hours?!”
“Not in a row,” said the shopkeeper.
Yes, I named this blog 7days7things, but I’m now adding a qualifier. Not in a row, people. Not in a row.
Work, commuting to work, organizing childcare logistics in order to work, sleeping, eating, and bathing have consumed most of my time. Thank you for your patience…

2. The No Screens Until… Project — an Update

Truth is I’ve done a pretty poor job of it. In my defense, they were at camp all this last week, and not home until almost 5 pm. When they did get home, however, it was basically video games and TV. After a day of swimming for Naomi, and science and engineering experiments for Dex, I figured what the heck. But Julius was at a coding camp so he basically stared at screens All. Day. Long. Oops.
So in a pivot that embraces good ol’ American capitalism, I’m going to borrow my friend’s technique. She’s paying her daughters to read and write every day. Fifty pages gets you a dollar. Write for 30 minutes in your journal and earn $1 too. She doesn’t pay until the book is done. Her kids are brilliant and she’s a far more attentive and motivated parent than me, but I’m going to give it a shot. Stay tuned. I’m not optimistic.
I’m sick of constantly repeating myself, explaining what “No Screens Until This Is Done” means, and clarifying that when I say “turn it off,” I don’t mean just until I walk out of the room. This reading/screen limiting initiative is an exhausting struggle. I’m Sisyphus but instead of a rock I have three insubordinate humans cursed with free will.
In a recent speech about the hard-won Iran Nuclear Arms Deal, Obama said “You don’t make deals like this with your friends.” I know how he feels.

3. The Brilliance of the Bestseller

I’m currently reading On Writing by Stephen King. The book is part memoir and part writing guide. Even if all you write is emails, this book is a wonder.
Say what you will about his oeuvre, the man can write. This book is so engaging and funny — it feels like you’re sitting on his back porch listening to him spin yarns. If you do write more than just emails, I think his writing advice is supreme — on a par with Strunk & White who he of course hails as vital.
He says the road to hell is paved with adverbs, and when I read that I did feel a little ashamed of all the adverbs I’ve carelessly, sloppily contributed to that highway. So many of his opinions and tips on how to write are incredibly clear and useful. His insights about his life as a writer occasionally feel like good advice for anyone. He talks about replacing his giant oak desk with a couple of sofas and moving his writing desk to a corner under the eaves. His teenage kids ate pizza and watched TV with him on those sofas when he wasn’t writing. “Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around,” he said. So perfect, and just trade out “art” for “work” and it really conveys.
It’s fun to discover where his inspiration comes from to write all those horror classics, even for the ones I didn’t read (like how an overnight job cleaning out an ancient basement of a hotel laundry inspired Graveyard Shift). I read my share of King, of course. Cujo gave me an irrational anxiety about rabies, The Shining spurred my irrational anxiety of old hotels, Carrie made me fear popular teenage girls… Oh, wait no. Popular teenage girls did that all by themselves…

4. “Bad” Writing is a Gateway Drug

Reading Stephen King, Nelson DeMille, Danielle Steel and Jackie Collins as a young person is what eventually led me to Garcia Marquez, Kundera, Toni Morrison and countless other authors as an adult.
In this age of YA bestsellers, my friend has this great idea for a bookstore display. Call it Old School YA: all the inappropriate stuff we read back when Forever by Judy Blume and Eric by Doris Lund might have been the only YA available to us.
Think of the trashy pulp we all read as kids, scrutinizing the dirty bits to divine some understanding of the sex and relationships that we were hoping to embark on one day soon. I devoured the Interview with a Vampire series. My husband loved Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and all his friends read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. Sci-Fi, Harlequin Romances, Agatha Christie, the list goes on and on. Even Cowgirls Get the Blues left such an impression on me, I dressed as Sissy Hankshaw one year for Halloween, complete with giant thumbs.
Flowers in the Attic? So fucking weird. So wretched. So fantastic.
I would love to see a bookstore display that celebrates all the pulpy stuff we read in the 80s. To become readers, I have to encourage my kids to just read — anything! That’s how we all started, right?

5. In the Mommy Wars, I’m Switzerland

It’s only been two weeks of daily commuting and if I wasn’t pretty sure I’d contract typhus, I would bow down on my knees in Penn Station to all these working moms who do it all year long. If their hubbies are doing it too? Good lord. If you don’t have a live-in au pair or family member who’s helping you? Holy fuck. I don’t know what you people are getting paid or how well your friends and family treat you, but I know you deserve more.
Yes, being home all day with your kids feeling your professional skill set atrophy is tough, too. It can be crushing to veer toward 50 and not really have a clear sense of your identity beyond mother/wife/daughter/sister. But I’ll tell you what, when I think about all the women who don’t love what they’re doing, who are hogtied by limited vacation days and inflexible telecommuting policies. That is a tough grind. Someone should campaign to flip it; make mother’s day the one day a year people DON’T shower moms with flowers and presents.

6. Weathering the Withering

I’m working now, but I’m just as often the SAHM, so a recent experience stung a little. This current work is to help create the website for a new credit card that gives you kickbacks when you shop in supermarkets and eat in restaurants. (I know, revolutionary, right? Those creative moneylenders…. )
Apparently, the demographic for this card is like, suburban moms. I don’t really get how they decided this since who doesn’t shop in supermarkets or eat in restaurants? But whatever. Anyway, in every reference to this target demo, a woman I work with disdainfully says something like, “You know… soccer moms” as if she just smelled something dukey. We traded out a photo of an elegant restaurant meal for something more downmarket — think Chili’s — since these soccer moms wouldn’t eat anywhere with a nice plate of food like that.
GRRRR! It’s so so hard for me to not snap at her and say this:
a. First of all, ‘soccer moms’? So Karl Rove, 2004. I think the term you seek is “incredibly powerful money-spending swath of the population without whom ad agencies like this one would be bankrupt.” I can’t stand when people condescend to their customers. It doesn’t make you look sophisticated. It makes you look mean.
b. This card can’t be used at Target or other big box type stores, so I doubt it’s going to sway these women anyway.
c. One day honey, if you’re lucky, you too will have children and a house in the ‘burbs and the need to buy toilet paper and milk in great quantities…that’s only IF YOU’RE LUCKY … so why don’t you step back with your fucking judgment. You wont be 33 forever, beezatch.
But I would never condescend to one of my clients, so I don’t say all that. Instead, I just smile.

7. Nothing but Flowers

Hurricane Sandy destroyed our garage. We rent and the landlord does not seem that keen to build a new one — who can really blame him, I’m sure it will cost a fortune.
Our new neighbors are marvelous people and together we all decided to clear out most of the rocks (some of the rocks) and build garden beds. We bought some dirt, planted some seeds, and bought a really long hose.
Another neighbor appeared with a tray of tomato and cucumber seedlings. After a few patient months, we are now in cucumberville. Plus, all the sunflowers and cosmos and zinnias make the backyard breathtakingly pretty. I love them all the more because they were nothing but dirt, seeds, and wishes in May.
I started this blog in May too. And now it’s almost August! Whew. I hope these words have made you as happy as the sunflowers make me. Thanks for reading and share it if you like it! See you in “seven” days… Love, Alix

7Days7Things by AlixClyburn