R.I.P

You served me well* for the past four years, waking me with hot** coffee each and every morning. Sadly, another year was not to be. You couldn't compete with the brutally hard water conditions.1

I will not mourn you as you move on to appliance heaven.2

*Okay
**That's true
1That's why your replacement has a fancy decalcification indicator and a charcoal water filter.
2And it has nothing to do with the fact that I ordered a better spiffier model--which includes brew-pause for a quick pour and a gold-tone filter--the moment you were cold on the counter.

The shiny new and improved model is whinging it's way here soon, but until then, it's gritty French press coffee or Starbucks. But for a model like this, I can wait:

Why?

I'm trying to stress less and stop being such a worrywart, but what's a 4-cup-a-day-girl to do when her coffeemaker goes on the fritz?

I only discovered that coffeemakers require 'descaling' a few weeks ago when my espresso machine began sputtering and I turned to the user's manual to find the answers. I grew up in a soft-water area, so this ultra-hard-water nonsense is frustrating.

I'm currently "running" descaling solution through both the espresso maker and the coffeepot, unfortunately my 12-cup coffeemaker has only made it halfway to the 10-cup line in an hour.
(A kind Starbucks barrista took pity on my decaff-induced glassy eyes and gave me a packet of solution this morning when I left the apartment to purchase a cup.)

It might be a slight understatement to say that panic has set in.

Coffee Lovers...

Drink on!

Apparently those cups of buzz-inducing brew not only show few related health risks, but researchers found many benefits associated with women who drink up to six(!) cups a day. It seems I can increase my daily four by another two without any worries. (I wonder whether those cups of tea count toward the six?)

p.s. I'm rather excited and nervous and a bit shaky (and no I haven't maxed out my coffee limit yet). My advanced novel writing class starts today. It's an online course for writers who have already (or very nearly) finished the first draft, and the focus is on workshopping. I haven't taken a writing workshop since college, but those familiar jitters are back. My first assignment is to introduce myself and give a synopsis and outline of my book. Bugger! I've been trying unsuccessfully to write a good synopsis for months. The pressure is on.

100% Elated

My last post focused on my moments of wavering resolve. Today I'm celebrating.

Husband took me for a lovely pint-size margarita in honor of my celebration.

I think I finished my first draft. (!)

I hadn't expected to finish today. This week was one big slog what with the job posting dilemma and difficulties writing the last chapter. I went to my favorite coffeeshop to write this afternoon. (Ironically the same coffeeshop where I began writing a very crappy novel idea nearly two years ago after I quit.) I needed a change of scenery and no computer distractions. Usually the change of scenery alone makes me feel more creative, but today I had to force myself to keep my bum in the chair. I kept creating tiny deadlines to make myself stop squirming (write for 20 more minutes, just one more page, etc.). It took me almost two hours to hit a groove, but once I finally did, I lost track of time and immersed myself in the story. As I bridged the gap between the bookend opening and closing scenes, I realized I was coming to the end.

When I finished, I felt elated and underwhelmed all at once. For one thing, earlier this week I started writing the last chapter, and I realized when I wrote the second scene that it should actually be the scene to end the book. Consequently, when I neared the ending, I wrote in 'insert scene 2 here' and that was my ending. Woohoo! It felt a little anticlimactic, even though I still like the ending I wrote, so I scribbled in a nice big 'THE END!' on the side of my page to up the excitement factor.

Anyway. Tomorrow I will read through the chapter to make sure it's not missing anything crucial and I can officially declare it complete. After that I'm not sure what I'll do with myself. I have a staggering pile of books from my research trip that I planned to read after I finished. And there's also a small pile of editing books I'd like to dig into before I begin the first light edit.

Onwards and (hopefully) upwards!

Coffeeshop Magic

I try to go to the coffeeshop once a week in order to get a change of pace for my writing. I went yesterday afternoon, but because of the rain falling outside, more people than usual were seeking solace in the coffeeshop, so I didn't find the quiet I normally enjoy. In fact, I was hard pressed to pay attention to my writing while listening to two grown men argue over a game of 'Magic'. They were arguing, quite loudly I might add, whether a character could be regenerated in the game. It took every ounce of my concentration to snicker silently and without shaking my shoulders. The entire coffeeshop could hear them arguing, and the couple at the table next to me seemed to be just as amused and annoyed as me. Unfortunately this kind of coffeeshop 'magic' did not much increase my word count, and I'm now ending my worst writing week since I instituted my new writing plan back in late October. However, I am trying to take it easy on myself since I've been fighting daily migraines. I'm also glad I can still count on my forays out of the house to provide me with entertainment. Now I better open that notebook again so I don't spend all weekend playing catchup.


My little magician. (This picture has nothing to do with the story, but it was too cute to not share.)

Balls-less and out on the town

Well, I'm getting my first full day out of the house in months because the little boy, otherwise known as our dog Drew, is getting neutered today. And I just have to say, why is it that when you mention getting a male dog fixed, all boys say "Oh, poor boy! How mean," and then make some mention of how sad they feel for the poor dog because he won't have his balls anymore? Would they like it better if I left my dog whole (so to speak) and let him mark their house and hump their leg instead? When a female dog gets fixed, nobody makes a big deal of it other than to ask how the surgery went, when in fact, spaying is more invasive than neutering. I mentioned this to the husband and he just rolled his eyes at me. Boys! Anyway, as is usual, Drew started shaking as soon as we pulled into the parking lot--and no, not because he understood what was happening--because he's terrified of me leaving him. Not Adam. Me. Funny how the girl who previously didn't even like dogs (put away the pitchforks, it's perfectly normal!) now has a dog with separation anxiety. He did okay in the clinic, but he kept barking his little high-pitched scared bark, which is not only embarassing, but annoying as well. I just hope they can get his heart rate down enough to give him the anesthesia.

Since I essentially have the day off to work freely, I'm out enjoying the chance to write in coffeeshops again. Should I feel guilty that I'm enjoying myself at the expense of the dog? I don't feel guilty exactly, but I was very nervous when I left him because there is a teensy weensy tiny chance he could not come out of the anesthesia. Humans have the same chances, but it just scared me to hear it, even though it's a simple operation and the odds are in his favor. Oi vey, I'm becoming attached to this dog like he is my little furry child! Anyway, now that I'm not so nervous, I really should get to all the writing I was planning on doing at the coffeeshop. Fun fun.