D. F. Krieger

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

My Wednesday News Flash

We interrupt your scheduled post of, Jan. 4th or Shelter, to bring you some important news.

I have been offered a publishing contract. My non-fiction piece, If Not For Xander, will be featured in an anthology sponsored by Changes In Life. I am very excited by this opportunity.

The anthology, with the current working title of: Woman I've Become, will feature stories of women who escaped abusive relationships, and the people in their lives who inspired them to live a better life.

Release date and details will be posted when they are available.

Tune in next week for the tragedy of my Macbeth. ~ D. F. Krieger

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Thump in the Night

I was attacked last night! It was scary, but in fighting back, I gained my feral cats lasting admiration. I am a hunter in his eyes now.

You see, it all started at almost two in the morning. I'd been in bed for about half an hour (I just know I'm going to hear it from my father-in-law when he reads this!) when I heard a strange humming sound. I brushed it off. We live near two airports so I figured it was simply a helicopter doing night ops. That was, until it smacked into my arm. It was huge and hard and distinctly insect-like. I shot upright and shook my arm like I was trying to get a deadly goo off before it ate me alive. I got it off alright.

And when it attached to my face, I realized I would have been better off letting it stay on my arm.

With a shriek that could wake the dead (I know it's true because it actually woke my husband), I bolted out of bed, flailing like a head-banger at a metal concert. When it disappeared, I stood there shaking, uncertain how to explain to my husband that I'd just been viciously attacked. I'm sure he thought I was quite insane, but in my defense the room was pitch black and there was no way he could see the horrid creature. My husband, gods bless his little heart, starting trying to talk me into calming down like one talks a mental patient off a ledge.

"It was probably just a nightmare," he said.

Upon hearing that, I had every intention to sulk...for days! But then I heard the humming again, and a thunk as it landed on the wall that our headboard rests against. My cat (Macbeth) and I lunged for the spot at the same time. I belatedly realized that until I knew exactly what kind of insect it was, grabbing it was not in my best interest. I raced to the other side of the room and switched on the light.

I'll admit I smirked when my husband yelped in agony at the sudden blinding light.

Macbeth, mean while, was up on the bed and frantically digging at my pillow. I pushed him to the side, pulled the pillow back, and jumped back myself when a large black blur went flying past my head. The ominous humming echoed loudly as it flew in ever tightening circles towards the ceiling. Macbeth paced under it, chittering deep in his throat.

"Smack it," my husband suggested.

I stared at him in horror. "I don't know what it is. What if it stings me? I'm going to wait til it lands."

When it did land, I gave a silent prayer that I hadn't took my husband's advice. It landed on my fan cord, about the size of a quarter. It was by far the biggest STINK BUG I'd ever seen in my life!

Thinking quickly, I grabbed a cup and a plastic object and trapped the stink bug, then hurried down the hallway and threw it outside. When I returned, Macbeth twined around my legs. The adoration in his eyes told me more then words ever could; I was now the best hunter ever!

I suppose in cat this means I've officially leveled up. When I awoke this morning, Macbeth was so lovable, he even made it difficult for me to get dressed. I guess I should be proud. I've ranked up from Servant to Lady In Waiting. ~ D. F. Krieger

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

You Get What You "Kneed"

Sorry for the obvious pun in the title, but I'm trying to be as light hearted about this as possible. My knee is being churlish and won't agree to any bribery or negotiations I've offered, pleaded, or threatened. Because of this, I've been on bedrest for two days (maybe three now?) and I'm not seeing a meeting of the minds any time soon.

Patellar Femoral Tracking (or Syndrome). I just know it hurts. To make it short, it's almost like arthritis in the cartilage under the knee cap. It can be caused by an irregular gait, or an injury to your knee. Mine was caused by a two year old doing a flying tackle leap about six years ago. He knocked my knee cap sideways and the rest is history.

It doesn't act up all the time. I can't really get up and down stairs on a good day, but I can usually walk just fine. There is the constant knowledge that at any moment my knee might randomly decide to give (and I swear I hear evil laughter when it does). Maybe my leg is really demon possessed? Either way, it totally popped out and gave when I was getting into the tub for a shower a few nights ago. It's been double it's size and I've been using a brace and a cane to even get from room to room.

My husband has called the doctor, but they can't see me until May 9th. They highly recommend we go to a walk in clinic. We'll be doing that Friday (me driving myself is kinda out of the question, so I have to wait until Hubby has a day off), but until then the doctor strongly suggests that I keep my leg straight and elevated at all times. He obviously doesn't know what it's like to have a house full of kids.

Anyway, short spurts at the computer are the best I can manage (because I use a desktop and can't just drag the computer onto my lap). I hope to get better soon and, with luck, some nice pain pills. Until I do, I'll be ghosting off and on. If anybody sees an exorcist, maybe you could send them my way? ~ D. F. Krieger

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Clique

Most writers I know aren't social butterflies. Oh, there's some here and there, but most of them admit that what socializing they do pull of is bluff and fake smiles. I often wonder if it is part of our less social nature that makes us desire to be writers? Or maybe you must be of such a social nature to handle the large amounts of solitude that being a productive writer puts you through?

Regardless, one thing I have noticed is that despite not being in high school anymore and our deer-like reaction to crowds, writer's still tend to form cliques. Honestly, I've noticed that about everyone. There's cliques on Twitter, cliques on Facebook, cliques amongst the military wives here in my hometown. I am not sure I really understand why, honestly.

Online most of these people have never (and may never) meet. Less face time should equate more time to expand your social horizons. Being the new kid on Twitter will quickly push that idealism from your head though. Try replying to the post of someone that you follow who is also following you. Replies to replies seem far and few between. I wonder, if one has no intention of replying to those that speak to them, what is the point of having an account on Facebook or Twitter (this goes for celebrities too; especially on Twitter).

Now maybe all of these happen to catch my attention because I have never been the type to fall into cliques? Maybe it's because I've spent a majority of my life watching people I know avidly talk about their fun nights and get togethers, but I'm never a part of that? I know I'm not the most social person in the world, I can easily go for days ghosting on the public sites, but never speaking a word. It's not that I have nothing to say, it's just that I'm aware that people don't generally and honestly care.

I will admit that when I was gone for two days, I did have a couple of great ladies show enthusiasm for my return (*Waves at Kimmy and Angelina*).  And this isn't a post requesting sympathy, by all means, I don't desire it. I'm just merely amused by the fact that, despite our ages, people still tend to cluster together to the exclusion of everyone else. They don't do it out of maliciousness (or at least I hope not). They do it because they are so caught up in their lives, and the lives of their 'besties' that they don't take the time to get to know anyone else. They have their select few, usually from two to a handful of people, that is their center. You'd think the military people here would be more open. After all, our lives revolve around the 'Here today, gone tomorrow' principle.

So what about you guys? Writer's, readers, mothers, husbands; do you have a clique? Or do you find your social interactions limited to your immediate family and the occasional texting spree? ~ D. F. Krieger