I’m a writer, not a publisher!

Ah, i wouldn’t exactly call this brain-freeze.  More like…it’s been such a long time since i wrote copy that i’m stuck in…writing/editing copy.  In order to publish my book, it needs a name.

So, here we sit.  For more than a week.

DYI Herbal Spa:  Learn how to make organic aromatherapy bath products at home

Advanced Aromatherapy:  Organic bath bombs, bath milks, bath sachets, bath salts, bath vinegars, massage oils for the DYI in all of us

Advanced Aromatherapy:  Train your senses by creating herbal spa products at home

Nope, none of them actually ‘fit’.  Grrr!!!



Yup.  i’m still writing.  Currently i have 11,435 words and still going strong.

Here’s what i have so far:

Bath Bombs

Bath Milks

Bath Sachets

Bath Salts

Bath Vinegars

Massage Oils



Although, i may delete the potpourri.  All of the other items can be used in the bathtub but…potpourri?  Smell nice, but i may be overdoing it.

Going thru my recipes has been quite interesting.  i really miss working with herbs and i’m not sure if i’m ever going to be comfortable about missing scents.

Tell you what:  if i remove the potpourri from the book, i will upload them to this blog.  That way, you can give them a try and give me some good feedback!

A dream…

i had some great hopes for today.  We are coming up on the three year anniversary of The Incident…Truck Meets Pedestrian and i find myself unable to write.  I located my original file…more than a year old…and i know i’m going to have to start over.  From scratch.

Last night, i dreamed of an Apocalypse.  A perfect metaphor for this morning:

People were dying because of a virus that only affected you if you had an open cut.  And it was carried by blood and by saliva.  So, if an affected person bit you hard enough, you became infected.

i wandered around an anonymous city and tried to find a safe place to hide.  i figured eventually the infected people and animals would die.  i would be alone but safe.

i found myself in a helicopter with my husband and infected dogs.  Angry.  The helicopter was set to automatic.  Hovering.  We climbed out and were clinging to the side.  We had to get back in.  i told him that i would hold the dog, risk becoming infected if he could find a cord or something to wrap around the dog’s muzzle.  If i became infected, i knew he would have to kill me.

We dove in.  i grabbed a dog.  My husband fended off the rest as he hunted for something to tie up the dog.  i could feel my hands and arms trembling with the effort of holding that muzzle tight.  It struggled, pawing at me to try and get away.  i’m trying to hold it down with my legs.  i feel a nip.  There is blood on the floor but i can’t tell if it broke the skin or if it was from the dog’s mouth.  Small teeth.  Angry.  Shaking his head in small jerking motions because he needs to bite me.

My hand stings.  Am i bit?  Infected?

My husband gives up trying to fight the dogs off.  He manages to reopen one of the doors and starts kicking the dogs out of the cabin.  Will he be in time?  Will i survive?

i woke.  And spent the next three hours locating the original file and trying to save what i can from it before starting again.  And, as in the dream, i will not allow myself to stop this time.  I need to write.  And this book, regardless of how much it struggles, will not win.  It will be published.

Spring Cleaning

It’s been quite the week.  Lots happened.  And a lot of it i can’t talk about.

My herbal past keeps catching up with me.  Or pushing at me.  Not sure which is which.  A former teammate contacted me to get some of that ‘magic tea’ i used to make.  Seems Adam had a virus and remembers the bronchial blend i used to have in my desk.  So bitter that you could add so much sugar that it would literally stop dissolving and it would still have that bitter bite…but effective.

i gave him a pod of green tea for the office Keurig, instead.

Today i cleaned out the pantry.  Found a box filled with my herbal candy making equipment.  Mostly plastic lollipop molds, and the cardboard sticks.  And plastic to wrap them in.

Yeah, nothing says lovin’ like some fresh horehound cough drops on a stick!

i carefully tucked the molds away.  Maybe this Christmas, we’ll make chocolate roses, instead of herbal candy.

ah, me…

It’s been a very long time since i last posted.  On April 19th, i hope that this will all be over and i can begin the healing process.

April 19th is when the pre-trial mediation is scheduled.  If we cannot settle on monetary compensation, this civil lawsuit will go to trial.

Part of me is in the ‘An eye for an eye/a tooth for a tooth’ mentality.  Yes, it’s been almost three years since i was hit by a truck and lost my sense of smell.  My memory is fragged, too.  The closest analogy i have is early onset Alzheimer but the symptoms do not seem to match.  i don’t remember much of 2010.  Memory has improved but i seem to be ‘stuck in the moment’ and, when i mentally multitask, i lose the memory of what i was working on.  i know i did it…but the ‘how’ is missing.

i am denied my day in court, facing the man who hit me.  Denied justice.  Yes, the civil lawsuit is a substitute for this but will never be a satisfactory path to healing.  The man who hit me, Kevin, will probably not have any part in the monetary compensation.  He will not lose anything personally.  Other than his ability to buy inexpensive car insurance for a while.  But, that will pass and he goes on with his life.

The money?  In all honesty, the amount we are talking about is small.  Even by today’s standards.  You see these wonderful ads on TV, even the ones with ‘real people’ taking about their huge settlements received just days before court…and the total amount [before the lawyers and the insurance companies will take their share] is small.

At what price a human life?   AllState Insurance Company knows…

And, so, i wait.  Wait for this to be over so that i can cry.  So that i can dig in deep into my own soul and find myself again. And not be defined by who i was.

10/6/09:  Bifrontal and bitemporal lobe hemorrhagic contusions as described, without any midline shift or brain herniation.  Scattered subarachnoide hemorrhage without intraventricular extension.

Clinical Indication:  Traumatic subarachnoid hemrrhage and intraparenchymal hemotoma.

If i could go back in time, i would eat at the restaurant instead of thinking i would save time by eating at my desk.  In life, there are no ‘do overs’.    Every day is a challenge.  And every day i vow to stop experiencing life as a victim.

jee-KEHEKH.  meQtaHbogh qachDaq Suv qoH neH.


Last night, i had an intense dream.  i’m not sure what it means but this one was about smell.

i was walking through a neighborhood.  Just your average, American neighborhood.  My husband and i were talking…about something…but what called my attention was the rose bushes.

Huge white flowers.  As big as my hand.  Dew-covered.  Glorious.  And there was The Blank.  i knew it was there, and in that fragment, i felt it.

My husband was drawn to the bush.  It was taller than him and one of the roses was at shoulder level.  He leaned in and inhaled.  ‘Beautiful’.

‘Really?  Are you seriously rubbing my nose in this?’ i asked.  Or something like that.

‘Scent doesn’t go away,’ he told me.  ‘It’s still there.’

And so it is.  We started walking…and the rest is fragments of sitting in a child’s outdoor play house, me cleaning up while we talked and wondering what the heck we were doing.  The conversation was very important and i don’t remember any of it.  All i could see in that dream were the roses…



Ghost of sonchi past

i didn’t hear the accident.  Didn’t see it.  Was so focused on my inner thoughts that i didn’t see the accident until i was about a half-block away.

There was a car.  In the middle of Broadway.  Door open.  People standing around.

…a woman laying on the ground near the car…

i did not slow my rapid pace.  Did not walk faster.  Just tried to see what had happened as i walked.

…woman, on the ground…

As i got closer, i saw a man in Corporate Clothes, standing to the side.  Mouth clenched in annoyance.  Another man, nearby.  Neither of them looked like they had any idea what to do.

‘Did you call 911?’ i asked.

One of the men nodded.  i looked over at Teh Victim.  Her knees were bent and a jacket was propped under her head.  It was drizzling and the jacket protected her head from the dampness.

i wasn’t thinking.  i was Feeling.

i moved closer.  The woman had a cell phone out and she looked like she was trying to text someone.  Her left hand was extended, almost as if she didn’t quite have control over it.  Or she needed help.

i didn’t see the accident.  Didn’t want to see it.  Was that Before me on the ground?

I knelt.  The ground was wet.  i held her left hand.  ‘Who are you texting?’

‘I’m calling my dad,’ she responded.  She was hurt, but i could not tell how bad it was.

Blond.  White cross-training shoes.  Air bag on car deployed.

She had to leave a voicemail.  She was lucid, but i retreated to give her the privacy she needed to leave the voicemail.

We were literally steps from the fire station.  Two firemen walked over, casually putting on their overcoats.  The snorkel moved from the garage to the middle of the intersection to block traffic.  One of them knelt and started to take vitals.

An ambulance and police officer arrive.  A man who was in the background came forward.  i heard ‘i was going 25-30 miles per hour…/blur/…my car spun around, like three times…/blur/…’

i looked at the car.  Silver.  Front right quarter panel crushed.  ‘She was the driver,’ the curly haired guy told me.  ‘She got out of the car and stumbled and couldn’t walk.  That’s my jacket under her.’

October 2009:  Did someone put their jacket under my head?  Hold my hand while we waited for the ambulance?

i told the officer that i didn’t witness the accident.  He told me i was free to go.

6:38 am.

i cried the last block to work.  No weeping.  No wailing.  Just silent tears that i hardly noticed.

…hold it together, Sonchi…