Not living for the weekend...

I think the hardest part I've had with adjusting to the move out to Vermont, is dealing with the crippling boredom.  This place likely has all sorts of things to do, I'm just not able to do them.  Whether it's money, time, the required toys, or even just the knowledge of where these things are, I'm just on the outside of all the fun.

I spend each week as thus:

Monday through Friday: Up a dawn, go to work, get home at 4pm.  Do the dishes, clean up the house a bit, maybe start a game or something.  Shannon comes home, we sit at the computer until she goes to bed, then I may or may not go to bed and sleep.

Saturday: Up, take out the trash/catbox, do dishes, and am usually given the weekend chores: clean this room/build this.  On occasion, we might go out shopping (which is seriously, my highlight of some days).  Usually it's because she needs something, or we're out of food.

Sunday: Same as Saturday, minus the trash.  Although Shannon goes to bed earlier on Sunday, because she has work in the morning.

This is my life up here... no where on that list is "go see something new" or "find out about someplace in Vermont", not even "use those free movie tickets you've had for five months."

My wife says that if I'm bored, I could go outside and clean up the yard, while she plants things. 

I don't want to go outside and clean, I don't like gardening.  In fact gardening in general is one of my least favorite things.  Growing crops? Awesome.  Growing enough crops to feed us once or twice? Not so awesome.  She can have a garden, and once I get the help that was offered, I'll build the garden bed for her, but I'm not a gardener.

Every so often we go out with her friends from Vermont, or we go out with her friends from NH.  We've yet to ever make plans for my friends, despite the fact that my friends do different things than "get drunk, drive in a circle for hours, break something and be sexist."  My friends don't ask if I can bring my married friend so they can pretend they have a chance with her for five hours.

I'm bored, I spend my days wandering my house, moving little things around.  I swear this is how serial killers are born, that or the most boring people imaginable.  I used to have stories, things that I did that people found hard to believe. 

I climbed mountains, fought in battles, trained fighters, visited crazy and interesting places, traveled to places that few had ever seen.  I took six hour trips to see something.  My world was huge and filled with wonder and adventure...

... now my world is five rooms and a job where I stand in a box for hours. 

I haven't seen the night sky from the forest in months.  Nor the way water freezes in on a mountain river.  I've not seen a challenge beyond summoning up the energy to pick up my shoes.  The battle of my life rages on, but I'm no longer there, I'm somewhere else.

I feel I used to be so much more.

I have no memory of this place...

So, note to self: leave witty "testing a time machine" post before being gone for months. 

Note for the Note: not leaving one might lead people to think you're the Doctor.

But yes, all of my rambling aside, I've remembered to actually put things in here.  It's been a long couple of months, longer still if you're me.  So, without further ado...


T. L. Hart, the Return!

Ramblings no longer aside:  here's what's happened to me and mine in the past few months...

I moved to Vermont with the missus.  It's a hell of an adjustment.  I don't think it's possible to fully iterate that point.  It's a whole different culture, one that seems to be made up of country boys and chauvinists.  It has been frustrating, complicated, and annoying, to say the least.

I was hired by King Arthur Flour, a nice company.

I published The Iron Rose, and will probably publish the second part in the next few days.  Lots of other books have been written in place of this blog.

I was fired from King Arthur Flour... I was seasonal, and they fire 90% (not a made up number) of their seasonal staff.

I was hired to do BARS program testing, basically driving to places, and being yelled at.  It was not fun, but it helped write the Villain book.

I was hired by Vermed, to make things.

I was "let go" from Vermed, because they no longer required me to make things.

I was hired by King Arthur Flour, because they wanted me to come back for the busy season.

I am off this week from King Arthur Flour... because the busy season is coming to a close.

I've got some prospects for minor work here and there, but nothing big... I've had four jobs since my last blog... yeah, that happened.


Currently North Korea is threatening nuclear war, because apparently they forgot "no one likes you, and America literally invented nuclear warfare".

My friend Hannigan beat the system and has his son, and has henceforth earned the rank of "smart."

My laptop has fucktified itself... so my writing has taken a hit.

I've yet to forge a lasting friendship up here, and I spend many of my days in solitude.

But I did manage to find the painting that started it all... the painting that inspired me to write the Iron Rose... it's here.

The imagery of cats in it, sort of shaped my mind to Rose going from an forest girl, to a version of the race from a different book.  That girl on the far right, the one in the dress.  The young girl looking at the viewer like she knows something everyone does not, that she's somehow part of them, yet more.  She's not quite there, not quite what she's going to be, but you can see she's on her way. 

She has a shy, almost coy look about her, with a refined by somewhat wild look about her.  More than a girl, but not yet a woman.  It was what made me want to start Rose off at that age.

So, all it not lost, I'll soon have the next book out, and I'll have all manner of things to talk about in the coming months.

Awesome.