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I'm testing out a new look for my main blog here.  Until I get it right, any new posts or other strange things goin on around here are probably a part of that.  My apologies in advance if it keeps showing up on your blogroll or something.

Love,
Katie

Me and Mike D.

I dreamed last night that I was sitting out on the curb waiting for the school bus and talking to Mike Day.  In the dream I knew we were kids, but there we were as our grown-up selves.  We were talking about the day Toni got bit by the dog.  I said, "I run like hell from dogs."  He said, "Me too."  Then we got on the bus.

There are a lot of uncharacteristic things about this dream.  And perhaps the most striking is that I swore since I have never used a swear word like that in real life.  But if you know the day that we were talking about--the day that Toni got bit by the dog--then the most startling and uncharacteristic thing about this dream is the fact that we were getting on the school bus.  Mike and I never took the bus to school.  We lived too close, so we had to walk to school.  And it was on the walk to school that morning that Toni got bit by the dog.

Writing a Book

There are some goals you have that you never really have to think about.  They've been there, waiting in the back of your mind, for as long as you can remember.  They're a part of who you are.  And you think about them.  And maybe sometimes when you're feeling inadequate you wonder if you'll ever complete them, but in all your moments of glory you know the truth--it's really just a matter of time.

That's how it is with me and writing a book.  And over the years I've had different ideas about the book I would write.  It used to be a novel.  Now it definitely isn't.

I read a lot of craft and sewing blogs.  And blogs are funny because anyone can have them.  Here I am, just a little stay at home mom in my early twenties writing a blog about sewing and having a daughter and a life.  And yet, somehow blogs make me (in my head at least) on par with people who are big stuff.  And as my reader base grows, so does my ego.  Anyone who has a blog and tells you different is either not being honest with themselves or just not being honest with you.  And, somehow, in the course of things, I've begun to think of myself more and more as big stuff.  Not all the time, of course--in fact, probably not most of the time--but just enough so that, lately, when I see that another blogger is publishing or contributing to a book it gets me going.  I used to see that and think, "They are amazing."  And I still do think that, but now the thought is almost always followed with, "If they can do it, surely I can do it too."

So I've been thinking a lot lately about writing a book.  But I have two problems.  First of all, I have no idea how to get published.  And--let's be clear, here--I'm talking about having a book published, not printed.  I know I could go just about anywhere these days to have a book printed.  I mean I want to have a publisher and publish and have my book in the shelf at the local bookstore.  Is that really so hard?

Sometimes I think no, but most of the time I think yes.  Because my other problem is this: I'm not entirely sure what I would write about.  I have a few ideas, but I'm not sure.  How do you know you're ready to write a book?  How do you know you've got the stuff?

A Spot of Hot for the Tot

I  made a pot of hot for the tot
And, as I did, the pot got hot and the hot got hot
And out jumped a spot of hot on the pot. 
But I saw the spot where the hot had got and,
Had I not,
I would have forgot
To wash the spot where the hot had got. 
But fear not;
I forgot not the spot. 
I washed the hot right off that pot. 
Not a spot of hot left on that pot. 
No spot.
Clean pot.
Full tot.