Long Hollow

The Book of Jonas

 

"What a cruel thing is war: to separate and destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world; to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors, and to devastate the fair face of this beautiful world." ~ Robert E. Lee

In The Book of Jonas, author Stephen Dau reminds us that the devastation of war goes beyond a battlefield littered with debris and dead bodies: it indelibly stamps everyone involved. 

Dau illustrates this mostly through the story of Jonas, whose childhood village was destroyed by American soldiers, but also weaves in the stories of Christopher, one of those soldiers, and Rose, Christopher's mother. Through these three perspectives, Dau makes us ponder what we believe about justice, guilt, innocence, right and wrong.

It's a quietly powerful book. A multilayered story with multi-dimensional, multi-faceted characters. Dau is great at introducing a character, making us feel one way about him or her, then moving the camera so we see them from a different angle, triggering a different reaction.   

For me The Book of Jonas is more than a story about war and its effects. It's a lesson in life and love, illustrating how rarely anything is exactly what it seems to be, either black or white. Even our memories don't tell the whole truth, limited as they are by a single viewpoint and tainted by other similar memories.

It's a reminder that none of us lives in a vacuum. Our lives can be dramatically changed because of one decision... sometimes our own but often someone else's. We also can't just ignore the traumatic events that leave their stamps on us, hoping they'll go away. If we do, we become their prisoners.

"The walls we build around us to keep sadness out also keep out the joy." ~ Jim Rohr

This is Stephen Dau's first book. I'm eager to read his next.

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Born Wicked (Book Review)

"Our mother was a witch, too, but she hid it better. I miss her."

That's how Born Wicked by Jessica Spotswood opens, and I was hooked right away. One of the best openings I've ever read! She says so much in so few words.

Unfortunately, the book went downhill from there for me. If I hadn't agreed to write this review for the BlogHer Book Club with the stipulation that I finish reading the book first, I probably would have stopped after the first few chapters. There are just too many other books languishing on my to-be-read list to spend time on one that I don't enjoy, unless I'm given the book and compensated for my time.

Born Wicked is the story of three sisters, all witches forced to hide their powers. It's told in the voice of the eldest, sixteen-year-old Cate, who is trying to protect her little sisters and deal with two love interests simultaneously.

Why didn't I care for the book? It's not the genre or the age level - I love the Harry Potter series. It's the writing.

The narration is intrusive at times, breaking up the flow of scenes. Cate drones on and on, giving us explanations and back story that often merely restate what we just learned through dialog or action, in case we didn't get it the first time. Blah, blah, blah, boring. Too often Spotswood resorts to "telling" instead of "showing."

I dream of having my own book published, but I sure hope no one would let it slip through if I committed the same mistakes. 

The story is set in Massachusetts in the 1880's , but not the Massachusetts or the 1880's we're familiar with. Spotswood created her own world history, where witches founded the colonies for religious freedom but are now arrested and sent away to institutions when their powers are discovered. It's a man's world for sure.

And Dubai is important for some reason - it's mentioned several times in the first few chapters.

I feel the multiple random mentions of Dubai and the alternate history distracted from the story rather than added to it. Perhaps creating a whole new world would be better.

The premise of the story is interesting, and, as I mentioned, the opening is great. There are several parts in the book that reveal Spotswood's gift for writing, but I think overall the book could have used more editing and checks for consistency in character and plot. I can't help thinking it was rushed through, perhaps in hopes of catching the Twilight fans before they drift away to something else.

It has a strong Facebook fan page, and most of the other reviews were positive, so obviously it appeals to some people. But you won't find me reading Book 2 of The Cahill Witch Chronicles.  

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are my own, as you've probably figured out.

 

Love, Life, and The Fault in Our Stars

I hesitated signing up to review The Fault in Our Stars by John Green for the BlogHer Book Club. The blurb said it was about a teenager with terminal cancer, and quite honestly, I wasn't sure if I could handle another book about death and dying. It feels like that's all I've been writing about lately.

But I did sign up for it, because I've enjoyed all of the other books I've read in the BHBC. I trusted them that this one would be just as good.

Well, I'm so glad I did. Green's characters - Hazel, Augustus, Isaac - are so real and fresh and funny that I totally fell in love with them. I could hardly put the book down.

Green tells their story without letting it muddle into a melodramatic tearjerker. Oh, I cried plenty of tears - it's a book about kids dealing with cancer and facing death, after all - but mostly I laughed and cheered and rejoiced.

The characters came to life for me, more than any other characters I've ever gotten to know and love. They felt genuine, and I think I'm qualified to judge, having raised three teenagers of my own in recent history.

Where other teenagers dream of their future, Green's characters wonder if they'll have a future beyond the next year... week... month. They realize the importance of the "here and now" because they know that may be all they get. And it reminded me that none of us is guaranteed more than the "here and now".

So, even though the main characters are teenagers, this book isn't just for young adults. The story goes straight to your heart, making it ageless. 

It's also a love story more than a cancer story. Love doesn't know anything about cancer, or oxygen tanks, or prosthetic legs - it's a straight heart-to-heart connection. And when so much in your life is out of your hands, it's a relief to have some sense of control over even a small aspect.

As Augustus says, "You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you."

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club, but the opinions are my own. I really do love, love, love this book and its characters. If you've ever loved, loved, loved a book, join the discussion, "Which Books Do You Love?", HERE.

Sky Blue, Sketches, and other Sweet!s (and Bittersweets) of the week

Sky Blue is my favorite crayon color of all time.

Today, God picked it to color the sky. I could imagine him sprawled on the floor of heaven, opening that big box of 96 (the one with the sharpener,) pulling out the Sky Blue, then, with side to side strokes, filling in the entire sky. 

For hours I lay under it on a folding lounge chair of the same color... even reading from a book with a Sky Blue color... wearing jean shorts, flip-flops, and a tank top the same shade of green as the new grass and fresh tree buds, my skin soaking up the sun like the dry winter ground soaks up the spring showers.

I rarely read for hours in a row like that and it felt so good to just lose myself in a story. It helped that I could call it "working"... it was the latest BlogHer Book Club book I'm going to review. I can't tell you the title yet, but I can tell you that I can hardly put the dang book down.

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Yesterday I came home from work to find a mysterious manila envelope on my desk. The name on the return address looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it.

 Inside I found a heart-melting sketch of my Max puppy... 

It turns out my sweet sister commissioned a wonderfully talented friend of hers, Susan Bromlow, a high school classmate, to sketch this drawing from one of my photos of Max on my blog. Susan (as you can see) is a talented artist. Click HERE to view more of her work.

What a sweet surprise and precious treasure! Thank you so much, Brenda and Susan! 

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Here are a few other sweet moments from the past week....

Monday: a good report from your doctor; lunch with your husband who took the day off

Tuesday: paychecks in the mailbox; an hour on the phone with your oldest, just catching up; clearing out closets and giving things away; a new part time job, helping with the income you need to keep working on your book without finding a full time job

Wednesday: hearing, then seeing, two red-tailed hawks streaking through the Hollow; a golden sunset that fills the sky and stretches to the horizon

Thursday: a gorgeous blue Mexican Jay couple, straw in beaks, busy building a nest; a last-minute, long-overdue catch-up lunch with friends; meeting lifetime friends from out of town for a spur-of-the-moment dinner 

Friday: walking at sunrise; another paycheck in the mailbox; bees buzzing fragrant mountain laurel blooms; daffodils and redbuds; your son's face, up close and in person

Saturday: making an unhappy customer happy again; spending time with both sons plus your future daughter-in-law and her family; an amazing sketch of your puppy arriving in the mail box; a friend's support of your writing

Sunday: sleeping in; an afternoon spent reading in the sunshine

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Before I could publish this post, Tom's dad called to let us know Tom's Aunt Marg had passed away. Please pray for the repose of her soul and for her family. Hearing of her death isn't sweet, of course, but the memories of her in my heart sure are.

Soon after Tom and I were married, we traveled to Wisconsin to meet his dad's side of the family. Aunt Marg opened her home to us, hosting a corn roast and sharing tons of family photos and mementoes.

A few years later, she spent about a week with us. In turn for teaching me how to cross stitch (I became an addict for several years) we took her to Gilley's where she even rode the mechanical bull.

                                   

Summer before last we saw her again in Wisconsin at a family wedding. It had been several years since we'd last seen her... maybe a decade... but she hadn't changed a bit, still as feisty as ever.  She even got out on the dancefloor!

I'm so grateful TG was able to meet her - they really clicked - and for all the memories I have tucked in my heart. Please keep her family in your prayers.

Rest in peace, Aunt Marg. We love you!

The Rules of Inheritance: a journey through grief

 

 

It's somehow fitting that I've been reading Claire Bidwell Smith's The Rules of Inheritance for the past few weeks.

Last night I dove into the final chapters, my mind still swirling with sorrow and joy that lingered from a quick trip to Houston for my cousin's funeral. Sorrow for friends and family wrapped tight in grief for the recent loss of their loved ones, including a dear friend whose husband just died, and joy from time spent with my parents, sister, and cousins I rarely see. 

I arrived home just in time to attend Ash Wednesday services, where Father Don reminded us of our mortality, of the importance of not squandering the gift of life we've been given, but to find a way to give back. 

Through all of this, Smith's book was on my mind, because it deals with life and death and grief. Mostly her own grief. When Smith was fourteen, both of her parents were diagnosed with cancer. Her mother died when Smith was eighteen and then, just seven years later, she watched her father take his last breath.

Smith takes us along on her heart-wrenching and courageously candid journey, but as tragic as it is, underneath is an unspoken glimmer of hope that kept me turning the pages. I knew she survived this dark passage of her life... I could tell that she was writing it from a patch of light that gave her strength to venture back in, in order to share her story with us.

But I couldn't imagine how she did it. I wanted to know. I needed to know.

How do you face the grief without letting it swallow you? How do you continue when you've lost your "most important person"?

I've felt grief and loss. Two sisters-in-law. My oldest brother. All of my grandparents. Aunts, uncles, cousins. Close friends.

But my parents and my husband's parents are all still alive... still voices on the other end of the phone... still just a hop in the car and a few hours' drive away.  Except for my brother, we have all ten of our siblings. All of our children.

Mostly, we still have each other.

But life is so fragile. In little over a year, six of my friends have become widows. Several of my classmates from high school, former co-workers, and now my cousin have died in the past year as well, while others have lost their parents. 

Smith was young when she lost her parents, but is there ever an age when you're prepared for that void in your life?

I feel blessed. Grateful. And lucky. But I also feel a twinge of guilt that makes me stumble over the right words. Smith says "If you haven't been through a major loss, then the truth is that you just don't know what to say to someone who has." 

She talks about the friends that gathered around her in her father's last days. Just their physical presence, their touch, helped her get through it. I remember how much it meant to me when I looked up at my brother's funeral and spotted my girlfriends.

Even if I don't know what to say, I'll try harder to be physically present.

I also won't pass judgement. I won't tell anyone it's time to get on with their lives, but will try to just listen. "Our grief is as individual as our lives," Smith says. 

Simone Weil said "All sins are attempts to fill voids."

Smith's reactions to her parents' illnesses and deaths certainly proves this to be true. She relates with raw honesty her futile attempts to fill the void. I'm amazed she not only survived, but managed to settle her father's estate, get her degree, and hold jobs while traveling the dark and gritty path of her teens and twenties.

I recommend this book to anyone who is actively grieving, but also to anyone who has struggled with depression, loneliness, bad relationships, trying to find the right path, or just trying to figure out who they really are. They'lll be able to identify with her story, too, whether or not they've suffered loss such as hers.

It's not until years later that Smith allows her grief to bubble to the surface or is able to recognize Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's five stages of grief in her dark journey.

Now a grief counselor, Smith used the stages of grief as the framework for her memoir. It isn't a linear story, but jumps from one episode in her life to another, back and forth, but told in the present tense, allowing us to experience the moment through her eyes. 

Some of the episodes are repeated with slight differences; I didn't understand this until near the last chapter when she explains the stages are just a frame to work with. "You may never experience all of them. You may go through them out of order or sometimes find yourself in more than one of them at the same time." 

Life and death go hand in hand. Personal loss is waiting for each of us around one of the corners, just ahead. I believe reading Smith's book will help anyone prepare for the inevitable grief that comes with life... and to believe that it's possible to eventually get to the other side of grief and continue on.

At the end of the book, Smith describes walking in on her husband and young daughter having a tea party. She wants to freeze that moment, but knows she can't. She knows time will pass, along with many others, that they'll all grow old and die. 

But her father's words, spoken shortly before his last breath, resonate through her words. I know she believes them and I do, too:

"Life is worth living."

 

 

 

 

This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club but the opinions expressed are totally my own.

 

 

 

What Electrifies You?

Author Gayle Brandeis posed that question on SheWrites last month. “What electrifies you? What gets your heart pumping? What takes your breath away? What makes the hair on your arms stand up on end?”

I answered...

Dancing, which I do as often as possible, even to the extent that I missed talking to a lot of people at my high school reunion because I couldn't leave the dance floor. Also playing my drums. I'm not any good. It will never make me any money so no matter how hard I try I can't justify the time I spend on them, but I play anyway, because playing them makes me feel alive. (But only when no one's around. Unless I've had a few drinks.)

And guess what? My answer was the Grand Prize Winner! What a sweet surprise when I saw my name in a SheWrites newsletter yesterday, especially since I had totally forgotten about it. I won a copy of Brandeis' The Book of Live Wires, along with a copy of her Bellwether-Prize winning novel, The Book of Dead Birds.

Yay! Books electrify me, too! (Also winning Grand Prizes and getting things for free!)

Something else that electrifies me is seeing my friends follow their dreams... and trying to help them along the way. Here are a couple who inspire me...

 

Walking the Walk

When I first met Jimmie Jackson, he was a tow-headed golf-loving teenager, rarely speaking up in the Confirmation class I taught. Now he's all grown up with a degree in Electronic Media, living in Nashville, and preparing for the experience of a lifetime: a solo 2,178 mile long journey along the Appalachian Trail, from Georgia to Maine.

Only Jimmie isn't just walking it... he's going to film a documentary as he goes, focusing on the spiritual aspect of the walk as much as the physical. "Why do people hike? What is the connection between being outdoors and leading a spiritual life?" He hopes to find the answers to those questions along the way.

Go to his website, Walking the Walk.org to find out more, and please consider making a small donation to help him see this dream come true. He really is a sweet kid (and I'm not just saying that because I was his Confirmation teacher!)

 photo from WalkingtheWalk.org

 

Indie Friendlie 

Indie Friendlie is my friend Byron Tully's 'baby'. With his beautiful wife, Darlene, and friend, Weathorford Bradley, he created this site to support and promote great filmmakers and great films, the ones without huge advertising budgets, the ones that get stomped on by the bullies with huge marketing campaigns, the ones left shivering in the cold outside of the theaters.

If you love independent film of any kind, go to the site and watch the clips from wonderful movies, documentaries and shorts they're spotlighting in their effort to give them "a voice, a face, an opportunity."

I've only watched one or two, but they were great. "Validation", a full length short, just made me smile and "The Inside Out Project" made me want to stand up, cheer and grab my camera.

Also, if you're a filmmaker, you can submit your own film to be showcased on Indie Friendlie. Click HERE for how-to's and guidelines.

Tully's a sweet kid, too, although I guess "kid" is a bit of a stretch since we went to high school together. He's also very, very funny.

(Full disclosure: Tully promised me one free margarita for every 1000 visitors his site receives from mine. So what are you waiting for? GO! And tell your friends to tell their friends!)

Oh, wait, before you go... What electrifies you? Share in the comments below...

 

Take It One Bird at a Time (and a week's worth of Sweet!s)

Right after work this evening, I drove straight to a stranger's house. Seven of us sat around a dining room table, munching on queso, chips and gluten-free brownies, discussing our 'babies' - the collection of words we've poured our hearts into for longer than we want to remember.

Our babies range from picture book to young adult, all in their last drafts, but we each have the same goal: to get PUBLISHED. Tonight we vowed to help each other achieve that goal to the best of our critical ability, with honesty, bi-weekly meetings, and a maximum of five pages every two weeks submitted for critique to one another.

Five pages at a time. Five pages is nothing, and yet five plus five plus five, etc., eventually equals a whole book.

A whole book is overwhelming, but five pages is nothing. I can focus on five pages.

In Ann LaMott's book Bird by Bird, she says that's the advice her father gave her brother when he had procrastinated on a huge project and the idea overhwhelmed him. "Just take it bird by bird", he told him.

Bird by bird. Page by page. Piece by piece. Day by day. Minute by minute.

Good advice for writing.

Better advice for life.

And now for more sweet moments of my week...

Sunday: an unexpected, extra evening with your daughter before she heads back to college, spent watching "Willow"

Monday: a room full of twenty-something girls, welcoming your daughter back to campus; getting $7 for a box of old VHS movies; chilling on the porch with your husband, neighbor, a gang of dogs and a glass of wine

Tuesday: a morning call from your daughter on her way to her first class; a call from your oldest, just checking in

Wednesday: a respite from your cedar fever; an 'in-person' hug from your daughter; serendipity striking again, placing you next to a sweet, helpful, supportive new business contact at a meeting; winning the doorprize (a beautiful silver necklace!); another of your blog posts featured on Pioneer Woman's sidebar

Thursday: morning sunlight on the hills; playing the drums after a long silence; a ray of hope in what you thought was a hopeless situation 

Friday: a prompt response from a Help Forum; sunshine and 70 degree temps in the middle of winter; your husband's French Toast

Saturday: blueberry cobbler and vanilla ice cream; putting your feet up and watching a movie with your sweetie after a long day

Sunday: a morning serenade, courtesy of the birds, frogs and running creek; a hug from a friend; happy customers; homemade flat bread pizza; clicking with your writing critique group; a wiggly puppy welcoming you home

Please share some of the sweet moments from your week! I really want to know!

And don't forget... if you're facing something that totally overwhelms you, just take it bird by bird...

Love at First Bark

I start almost every morning with a walk down my dirt road with Belle and Max. Their joie de vivre is palpable. Contagious.

I'm addicted to these walks, to watching my "puppies" greet each new day with passion and energy and optimism. 

Max and Belle were both strays who wandered up to strange houses with a dog's pure faith they would be helped. At the time each of them entered our lives, I didn't think I wanted any more dogs. Too expensive, too constraining of our time, too much heartbreak when they die.

Now I give thanks every morning and several times during the day - well, anytime I look into those big brown eyes - that God brought these little black and brown angels into our lives. He knew just what we needed.

He always does. And Max and Belle remind me of that every day.

 

When I was young, the sight of a stray dog broke my heart. Molded by stories like "Black Beauty", "Old Yeller" and "Call of the Wild", where animals struggle to find a good home,  I dreamed that when I grew up, I'd own a ranch where I could take in every stray I found.

Well, I grew up. The cost for housing, food and medical issues alone for that dream to come true snapped me back to reality. It didn't help that I'm allergic to animals. I'd need a fortune just to buy all that Benadryl.

So you can see why I jumped at the chance to review ("read for free") Julie Klam's book Love at First Bark, for the BlogHer Book Club, especially when the subtitle read "How Saving a Dog Can Sometimes Help You Save Yourself".

I know how true that statement is, that dogs can help you save yourself...

Max came along just when my oldest headed off to college and the other two were close on his heels. Did you know that a goofy German Shepherd-Great Dane puppy is very similar to a 4-year-old? Max became my perpetual 4-year-old and eagerly accepted all the baby talk and (s)mothering attention my human kids had outgrown, making my transition to Empty Nest so much easier. 

Belle came along just in time to save Max, who was despondent after our old dog Charly's death. She revived the "puppy" in him. (Saving Max = saving me. Thank you, Belle!)

However, except for the first chapter where Julie describes how helping an abandoned pit bull essentially saved her marriage, the rest of the book just relates different dog rescues. It's a good book, peppered with Julie's humor, but it didn't grab me the way I thought it would. It felt passive and inconsistent, sort of rushed. 

What keeps it a "good" book in my opinion, and why I believe it's worth reading, is the well-deserved recognition it gives to unsung heroes around the country who are essentially living my dream of helping stray dogs, either through rescues or by adoption or foster care.

Before reading this, I didn't have a clue there were so many organizations (all understaffed and underfunded, of course) and individuals who go miles out of their way to help. Hearing the lengths they go to just to rescue one dog is inspiring. Kudos to Julie and all of the others who do this regularly, who think nothing of adding an incontinent dog to their already large collection of pooches or run through a swamp and duck under a train to help a stray with a jar stuck on its head.

So if you want information about dog rescues or rescuers, I recommend it. But if you're hoping for heartwarming, life-changing stories that send you scrambling for a box of tissue, look somewhere else... after you read the first chapter about Morris the Pit Bull, that is.

Full Disclosure: I was compensated for this BlogHer Book Club review but all opinions expressed are my own.

How to Be an American Housewife

No, I'm not trying to give anyone advice here! (Those who know me would laugh! Especially Tom!)

How to Be an American Housewife by Margaret Dilloway is the latest selection for the BlogHer Book Club. It's a story about forgiveness, perserverence, understanding, examining your life and following your dreams.

All the things I love to write about!

Dilloway draws on her own family history to weave this tale of Shoko, a Japanese War Bride who comes to America with her Navy man husband, Charlie, after World War II, hoping for a new life but facing prejudice and ostracism. Her husband gives her a book, more of a manual, I guess, to help her adjust - How to Be an American Housewife.

The story begins in Shoko's 60-something voice describing her yearning to return to Japan to see her brother, Taro, who disowned her for marrying an American. She takes us back to their childhood; shares with us her dreams, goals and heartbreaks; explains how she met Charlie and the challenges she faced in America. She's in ill health, suffering for years from a weak heart, possibly caused by radiation, and now faces a life-threatening surgery.

Shoko has dreamed of returning to Japan someday, but life continually intervened. First, she couldn't afford it. And then, when she manages to stash away enough money, her heart isn't strong enough to make the trip. But she's determined to make contact with Taro, and turns to her daughter, Sue, to travel to Japan in her place.

This is where Sue takes up the story. 

Sue and Shoko have never had a close relationship, but she is still concerned for her mother and sees how important it is to her to make amends with Taro before she dies. She agrees to make the trip, along with her teenage daughter, Helena. While in Japan, Sue is not only able to understand her mother better, but her own dreams are reawakened.

Although Shoko wanted to be a good mother, she fell short at times due to her health, her age, cultural differences and her own strong personality. But this trip is exactly what Sue needs and by giving it to her, I feel any mistakes Shoko made along the way are redeemed.

As a mother, I can identify with both Shoko and Sue, wanting to be the best I can be but knowing I fall short too often. Like them, I also have dreams I still hope come true; I liked the message this gave of never giving up on them, that there's no expiration date on dreams.

This isn't just a mother-daughter story, though. Dilloway provides a little something for everyone. I'm a history buff and enjoyed hearing about life in Japan during World War II.  I also love a good love story and this one didn't disappoint me in that category, either.

So I suggest you read it, and if you do, let me know what you thought about it!

(To learn more about the book and the author, and to join in further conversations on BlogHer, click here. Oh, and I was compensated for this BlogHer Book Club review but all opinions expressed are my own.)

Slow Love

The last two chapters of Dominique Browning's memoir Slow Love prove she's a talented writer. They're poetic, original, descriptive, wistful and hopeful. A true joy to read. 

However, if I hadn't promised to finish reading her memoir before writing this review for the BlogHer Book Club, I would have tossed it aside after the first few chapters because of unnecessary details, a confusing timeline, and my own pure frustration. 

Editor-in-chief of House & Garden magazine when it folded in 2007, Browning was also mired in a longterm relationship with a legally-separated man who refused to leave his wife. Despite the explanations and excuses Browning offers, I couldn't understand how someone her age at her level of success didn't wave goodbye to him long before.

Slow Love describes her depression and journey back to the surface, but as much as I wanted to, I had a tough time finding sympathy for her. For one thing, losing her job didn't throw her into the financial crisis it would so many others. She was very fortunate.

But perhaps I couldn't identify with her because I've been in a constant state of employment transition for more than thirty years and never based my self-worth on any of my jobs.  Perhaps it's because I learned decades ago that a woman doesn't need a man to be "complete", that you can't change people or depend on them for your happiness.

Perhaps I'm the fortunate one, after all.

Just counting a few of my blessings... (my Friday Favorite Photos)

 

1. Rain on my windshield! Before heading to Houston yesterday, I swung downtown to drop some things off for TG on campus, and I heard an unusual sound... raindrops on my car! And then it actually rained on me all the way to Smithville or LaGrange. It wasn't enough to wash the dust from my car, but I'm grateful even for this small amount. Tom says a little even fell at our house, hallelujah! At least we know it remembers where we live!

2. My parents back at home; specifically, Daddy out of the hospital. Nothing more to add. That's enough!

3. Being able to catch a photo of my great-niece Haila smiling. I love this one of her and her daddy, Evan, my brother's son. They were in Houston visiting from Wyoming and I'm so glad I was able to run down to see them. I've been told Haila never fusses, but just before I arrived, she woke from a bad dream and cried and cried a good part of the time I was there. When she wasn't crying, she was on the move. This is a miracle capture!

4. My sister Brenda can walk without her cane! Just a few steps and she keeps it handy, but still, that's a major accomplishment and a beautiful sight to see. I haven't seen her since her hip surgery 5 months ago - how can that be possible? To say she looks much better would be an understatement!

I returned this evening from a quick trip to my hometown to attend my friend's husband's funeral. As you can see from these photos, I packed a lot into 24 hours... long overdue visits with my parents and siblings plus hugs (and tears) with my lifetime friends at the viewing and funeral.

I wish I'd had more time, but I'm just grateful I was able to sneak down there at all. I have to work tomorrow.

I'm hoping to fit another trip in soon for a second interview with my parents and to gather with the other Deer Park Divas around our friend. She's doing great now, but we all know the next few months are going to be tough.

This next week I'm focusing on getting organized - I have no deadlines to make me crazy although another book is in the mail for the next BlogHer Book Club review. I'm looking forward to it, though. These book reviews have kept me reading all summer.

The last one I read was Faithful Place, by Tana French - a wonderful love story/murder mystery with the kind of writing that makes me want to go revise everything I've ever written! You can read the full review HERE on BlogHer.

I have several friends and quite a bit of family over there on the East Coast and even though I've been on the road, I know there's a hurricane headed their way, so I'll be praying it's a dud like the one aimed at us a few weeks ago! And if not quite a dud, that its damage is minimal. Stay safe, all of you!

 

 

 

Where did the week go? Heck, where did the years go? (plus my Saturday Sweet Report)

I totally lost track of this week. Until this weekend, nothing extraordinary happened, but even so, it felt crazy and I was exhausted without knowing exactly why!

Our empty nest isn't so empty right now - TG is still home for the summer, along with the contents of her dorm room, currently in Transition-Limbo, tucked into random places. And as of this past Saturday, Daniel and the stuff from his apartment are back home in Transition-Limbo, as well.

Tom helped move him home then they both took off for several days of sun and fishing on the coast, leaving a maze of boxes and stuffed trash bags full of household items and clothes overflowing from Daniel's room.

While they were gone I had to cover for Tom, which meant making sure TG and I had something to eat and pulling the evening puppy duty as well as the morning one. Okay, it doesn't sound like much, but it felt like a lot and I was pooped. 

They rolled back in Thursday night, just in time to unpack, re-pack and head to Dallas (all of us) for a wedding.

See that cute chubby-cheeked boy in red below?

That's Quentin, one of Tommy's friends. They went through Boy Scouts together and helped each other earn their Eagle Scout ranks. Along with his dad and brothers, Quentin helped us build our house.

Somehow, he's old enough to get married now. How did that happen?

The photo above was taken at Tommy's 12th birthday party, when all it took to entertain those boys was pizza, video games, movies, boxing gloves and some kind of rowdy wrestling game that, if I remember correctly, involved jumping from trees and forced me to come inside before I started screaming "Be careful!" and embarrassing my children.

Ah, boys. Those were the days.

In just a blink or two from when this photo was snapped, Quentin graduated salutatorian from high school, graduated with a degree in Aerospace Engineering from Texas A&M and then decided to teach high school math and science. A pretty good decision because that's where he met Kristen, the high school Spanish teacher who is now his wife.

Funny how we somehow get to where we need to be, even though the path seems to zig-zag a bit.

These days, I believe Quentin finds Kristen much more entertaining than pizza and video games.

It was fun seeing those kids, all grown up. A bonus to the trip was having all of my kids together. TG and Daniel stayed at Tommy's house, while Tom and I snuck away to our very own hotel room - all by ourselves! It was kind of an early anniversary celebration - next week will be 29 years.

Talk about time passing in a blink of the eye!

This morning we enjoyed a wonderful Mexican food breakfast all together before zooming back home, where I changed clothes and headed to work for the First Saturday Dinner at the Bistro. Each month the Three Course Wine Lunch menu changes and they feature some of the new items at this special night event. Getting to see - and taste - some of the new items... definitely sweet!

Here are some other sweets from the week...

Sunday: seeing your son and husband heading off for a few days of coastal adventure; watching a movie with your daughter instead of tackling your to-do list.

Monday: a surprise call from a dear friend; a text from your son letting you know they made it to the coast okay; hearing that your sister is feeling better after being very sick... again.

Tuesday: finally making the decision to buy a lens you've been wanting and getting a surprise discount on it; a glorious blue and orange striped sunset.

Wednesday: a glimpse of a mama quail, babies parading behind her, making it safely across a busy road; trio of baby deer finally out in the sunshine where you could snap their photo.

Thursday: pink mornings; your husband and son straggling in safe and only slightly burnt from days of fun at the coast.

Friday: witnessing a wedding, being reminded of love that lasts a lifetime; catching up with long-time friends; dancing.

Saturday: sharing breakfast with your husband and all of your babies; arriving home safely from a road trip; a new book to review waiting for you in the mailbox; Banana Crumble with a glass of Mistella; moonlight on a vineyard.

Hope you took time to notice the sweet moments in your week!

 

 

 

"The End" of an Era (and my Friday Favorite Photo)

This is the book that was the beginning of the end.

Each evening for years and years, Daniel, TG and I would huddle around a book on the couch, taking the adventure together, a chapter at a time. I would read out loud, relishing the warmth of my two little ones cuddled up against me.  

Tommy had broken away on his own when he discovered the Goosebumps series in 3rd grade, devouring them one after another as fast as he could. Speed is addictive: he couldn't slow back down to our pace, savoring bites of the story, a little every day.

TG, Daniel and I were usually each reading something else as well on our own. But every night we'd come together for a special book. We'd take turns choosing it. This is when I introduced them to the Lord of the Rings, Call of the Wild, Black Beauty, Tarzan, Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle, the Wizard of Oz series... 

And then Daniel won a drawing in the school book fair. He got to pick any book he wanted, up to $15 value. We hadn't heard of the one above, but it looked promising. It had a cute cover, interesting-enough story line, and the kid on the front even looked a little like Daniel to me.

I didn't expect much from it, but I hadn't gotten through the first chapter before I felt jealous of the writing. The kids were irritated when I would stop reading in the middle of a critical scene to comment on some gem of a phrase or description. 

That, plus they didn't want to wait 24 hours to know what happened next. It was mutiny on the couch. What could I do?

They drew straws to see who got to read it first. Within a couple of days all three kids had finished it and I finally got my turn. I'm sure I was through it within a day or two, also.

There was no going back after that. We tried to rendezvous over a book a few more times, but they'd had their taste of independence: our Reading Hour fizzled to an end.

All because of Harry Potter.

With each new HP book, the scenario repeated itself... drawing straws, all-night reading sessions, keeping your lips sealed until everyone had read the book. (You could hear the sigh of relief after I closed the book - I was always last.)

Meanwhile, my kids grew and grew and grew. HP movies were made and we'd dutifully buy our tickets and watch them, but we were never satisfied. Admittedly, I always enjoyed them because I've never been able to remember details of books as well as my kids - they're harsh critics, let me tell you! I raised a fine litter of critical reader-geeks!

With that in mind, we didn't rush to be the first in line to see the final HP movie. It was one excuse, at least. Can you guess my other excuse? I hated to say goodbye. 

Yes, the book was finished long ago. I shed my tears back then, said goodbye to the characters, but I knew this movie was really the final goodbye to that era - an era of faces buried deep into books and kids who were shorter than me... of long summer days full of discussions about plot and character, good and evil. 

But I couldn't resist any longer - today I sat with my two twenty-something-year-old kids who'd known Harry and company half their lives... who'd grown up with Harry and Hermione and Ron... munching tons of popcorn and Milk Duds, reliving the last decade while watching the end unfold before me... the end of an era.

(Guess what we did after the movie? Dropped into Half-Price Books, of course!)

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And now, my Friday Favorite Photo, totally unrelated to Harry Potter. My crape myrtle is getting closer and closer to blossoming... I feared it had changed its mind due to lack of rain, but then I noticed this bud... I think it's going to make it!

 Hope you had a wonderful, magical Friday!

 

 

 

Makin' a list and checkin' it twice...

List-mode -noun  A state of being wherein a moderately organized compulsive listmaker falls behind on things she needs to do, usually due to a weekend out of town with her girlfriends, and can't help but make more lists in a feeble attempt to get caught up without forgetting something important.

 

1. Sigh.

2. The weekend was totally worth it, though. Just hanging out with my girlfriends around the pool, sipping margaritas and talking, talking, talking would have made my current harried frenzy worth it, but my weekend journey had some other high spots in it as well.

3. If you're a blogger or on Facebook or FlickR or Twitter or some other social media I've never heard of, you've probably made lots of friends that, chances are, you'll never meet in person. Well, this weekend I got to meet one of those previously "virtual" friends, Debbie, who I connected with a few months ago on FlickR. On my way into Houston Friday, she met me for lunch.

4. It is so cool to see a person you've only known through words or photos sitting right there in front of you, face to face. We had a wonderful visit, but, of course, it was too short. 

5. We'll have to do it again, Debbie!!

6. My Diva weekend will get its own post (eventually!) but I want to mention one thing about it now because I think it's such a great idea.

7. We celebrated Leslie's birthday on Saturday, but instead of presents, she requested bags of dog and cat food that she could donate to an animal shelter. Isn't that a great idea?

8. You rock, Leslie!! 

9. (Here she is between her goddaughter, Georgie, and our sweet animal-loving hostess Rae, who took the food to her local shelter.)

 

10. Sunday I spent several hours with my parents before heading home, and for close to four of those hours I listened to - and recorded - my parents' stories and memories.

11. I'm convinced there's no better heirloom or legacy, and can't wait to go back to capture more of that treasure. 

12. Doesn't Daddy look cute in his suspenders? 

13. Do you remember me telling you I'm part of the BlogHer Book Club? Well, my latest book review was published today on BlogHer, about Sarah Dessen's What Happened to Goodbye? Click HERE to read my full review.  

14. Guess what? I'm a finalist in Jillsy Girl's June Water Challenge! Voting continues until June 29th so go HERE to vote! (Don't feel you have to vote for me - click on each of the entries and pick whichever one you like.)

15. Some people truly amaze me, and Gina Calvert is one of those people, constantly spreading herself thin to help someone else. Her latest venture is for Girls on the Run, a non-profit prevention program that helps preteen girls develop self-respect and health lifestyles through running.

16. Gina, who isn't a runner yet, plans to run a 5K in just a few months to raise money for the program. (I should mention at this point that Gina is 51!)

17.Please click HERE to read more about Girls on the Run. (Even if you don't think you can or will donate, you should read Gina's post about it. She's a wonderful writer!) 

18. Whew! I think that's enough for tonight...

19. Thank you.

Rambling on a Monday in May

Before I was fully awake this morning, I started the coffee brewing and switched on the television.

Up popped the devastation in Joplin, Missouri - that hospital with blown windows surrounded by mangled vehicles, toothpick trees and piles of rubbish ... the videos, the woman's voice praying "Help us, Jesus..."

After saying a prayer for all of those affected, I vowed never to complain about the weather here again.  

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 May is almost over and I'm feeling paranoid. 

The past two Mays have given me belated birthday presents that I wouldn't re-gift to my worst enemy.

For my 50th birthday, May gave me a case of shingles which came with an MRI because of the headaches that heralded its arrival and steroid drops for my eyes so I wouldn't go blind.

Last year I guess May felt it had to top the previous one. First, it gave me the worst urinary tract infection of my life. (It was actually only my second ever, but the first one, thirty years ago, was so bad I took every precaution to avoid another.)

I thought that was it (thank you so much!), but then just a week or so later my heart went crazy, pounding and racing so hard and fast that it woke me up. I thought it was going to fly out of my chest! Follow up tests concluded it was  SVT, or Supraventricular Tachycardia, basically an electrical short circuit in my heart that causes it to pound and race. 

I haven't had another episode, or any other health scares, but then, May isn't over yet, is it? I'm just hoping this "Welcome to your 50's" initiation phase is over.

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My book review for A Jane Austen Education went live on BlogHer this evening (along with several others, if you want more than one opinion!)

I've been thinking about the book again today, mostly thinking it's a shame Jane Austen isn't required reading for everyone. Some people learn the lessons about life on their own that William Deresiewicz, the author, learned from the books, but I know quite a few people who have never learned them, such as the one he learned from Pride and Prejudice: we aren't born perfect and there are some lessons we have to learn on our own in order to grow. We can't learn them from other people. We have to experience our own failure.

I know this was certainly true for me when I was young (and maybe it's still true!). I wish it hadn't been - I wish I'd had the sense to take the advice of those older and more experienced than I was. I hope I have a teeny bit of that sense myself now.

Which reminds me... I saw a blurb on the news today that some state is considering holding parents responsible when their child gets a bad grade. Huh? Maybe I heard it wrong, but if it's true, don't they realize they're just giving parents more reason to do their kids' work for them or encourage them to cheat or that we'd be keeping kids from learning life lessons they need later on? Don't they realize no one is born perfect and everyone has a different path to follow? A different time line?

Where are these people coming from?  Why do some people think their way is the only way? 

Oops. Sorry.

Anyway, click HERE to read my review on BlogHer... and go read some Jane Austen!

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 As far as Mondays go, this hasn't been a great one. Okay, it truly sucked in places (and I don't use that 's' word lightly.)

But I'm still keeping my eyes open for those Sweet! moments and keeping my feet moving forward, even though I don't know what's ahead of me.

These quotes help, so I'm going to add them here in case one of you needs a little 'faith reminder'. (I need them a lot - that's why I collect these quotes!)

"Suppose you plant a garden, and after a few days, you don't see results. Do you dig it up again? No, because you know that a lot of things are going on that you can't see. It's the same with God."

~ Charles Stanley, American Baptist preacher

"Patience with others is love, patience with self is hope, patience with God is faith." 

~ADEL BESTAVROS Egyptian deacon and lawyer

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight."

~Proverbs 3:5-6

 "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

~Jeremiah 29:11

"God often closes a door before opening a new one. Between those doors, don't worry. Wait, worship and watch! It's a test of faith. Colossians 4:3"

- Rick Warren

"Faith is the art of holding on to things your reason has once accepted, in spite of your changing moods."

~C.S. Lewis

 "Hope is wishing for something to come true. Faith is belief that it will come true. Believe that for every problem God gives you, He will also provide you with a solution."

Anyone know who said that? I love it!

But this is my favorite, and the one that truly keeps me going...

Everything works out in the end. If it hasn't worked out yet, it's not the end.

~Author Unknown

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And for me, this is proof of that nugget of truth... the path might be tough, but if you keep going, you just might get fireworks in your honor! (The last of my graduation photos, I promise. Here, anyway. I'll post the rest on "Confessions".) 

 

Craig's List ... Sweet! #3 (and my Friday Favorite Photo)

Finding just what you've been looking for at a price you can afford on Craig's List.

Tom must have realized I was never going to give up on my dream of a library.

I'm sure he was just as tired of seeing dozens of boxes of books lining the downstairs walls as I was frustrated that all my books were still in boxes.

I think he also realized he would never have the time or money to build custom shelves from scratch, as he had planned. 

Guess what he found on Craig's List this week?

It's just a start, but oh, isn't it a lovely start?

Eventually they'll go all the way to the ceiling and perhaps be painted white (they're all different types of wood), and if we can figure out how, I'd like to turn two stained glass windows we've had stored for ages into cabinet doors. 

But even just as it is, I'm in book-lover heaven.

Finding just what you've been looking for at a price you can afford on Craig's List.

Sweet!

What treasures have you found on Craig's List, or at garage sales, or flea markets... ?

Thank you, BlogHer!

I think I've mentioned this before - I'm a book addict. I have boxes and boxes of books stacked in the boys' rooms downstairs, waiting for the library Tom has promised me  (and promised me... and promised me...)

(Okay, in his defense, he built this whole house ... even finished out my closet while he barely has a rod to hang his shirts on, so I understand a proper home for my beloved books isn't high on the priority list. Really I do. Sigh.) 

Anyway, back to my addiction...

Books fill windowsills and mismatched bookshelves that are scattered around the house. Books are stacked on tables, fill cabinets... you get the picture. I just can't throw a book away or resist "adopting" a homeless one (for the right price, anyway.)

But I think I've also already mentioned that I don't take time to read anymore - not books, anyway. Not often. I have good intentions and dream of reading all of the books I adopt, but the reality is they sit waiting, neglected, while I spend my hours trying to make money and chase the dreams I've put off for so long.

I miss reading a good book. There's nothing like it, getting sucked into the pages, caught up in the lives of the characters, becoming oblivious to everything around you, laughing, crying, getting mad.

Growing up I spent hours reading, and when the kids were younger we shared dozens of books over the years, 30 minutes at a time, every single night. When they got older, summers would find me next to the pool with a book in my hand while they splashed around with their friends.

Now they're grown up and I'm too busy trying to make money.

And that's why I'm so grateful to BlogHer - they started a Book Club and asked for reviewers. Immediately, I raised my hand. Not only would I be sent a book (for free!) but I'd be paid to read and write a review. Not much, mind you, but any little bit was enough justification to me.

The first book I read for the Book Club, Caleb's Crossing by Geraldine Brooks, is a historical fiction, a genre I love, but it's been awhile since I read one I enjoyed this much. It was tough to put it down! It's about the first Native American to attend Harvard, although for me it was more of a coming-of-age story about a young girl named Bethia who befriends him.

If you're interested, click HERE to read my review and others on BlogHer. (But if you decide to buy it, please come back here and click on my link!)

Now (thanks to BlogHer) I'm reading a memoir - A Jane Austen Education, by William Deresiewicz. After my adventure with Caleb's Crossing, I was tempted to jump into another novel, but this one called to me for some reason, and I'm glad I picked it. Stay tuned for my review later this month.

Besides giving me an excuse to read, BlogHer also recently gave me a chance to try some new dog food (well, for Belle to try some new dog food) and to give readers a chance to win a $100 Visa gift card.  I won't give any of the details away here, though ... if you're interested, click HERE to read my review on Purina Pro Plan Selects and see how to win.

Okay, I'll tell you this much - all you have to do is leave a comment on my review blog (not here) to be entered to win. (Although I love reading your comments, here, too!)

You'll also get to read a little about me and my dogs and see some cute pictures of them. And also find out how to increase your chances of winning!

Good luck, and I hope you're having a great week!

Why I Blog

I talk to high school students every year who are preparing to take the AP exams or write college entrance essays. I tell them "Make every word count. Read back over what you've written and if there's an adverb, yank it out and use a better verb. If you see "is", yank it out and use a better verb."  When word count matters, I point out the advantages of semicolons over 'and' and 'but'. Other good tips: vary sentence length and formation; avoid repetition of specific words (these jump out at you if you read your work out loud.)

Now after spouting all of that, I admit my blog doesn't always reflect what I preach. I've written essays and newspaper articles; my blog is neither. It's the dumping ground for my thoughts. A practice arena before the Big Game, the book I'm writing. Sometimes my post just pours out of me, similar to the stream-of-consciousness morning pages Julia Cameron recommends in An Artist's Way. 

More often, it's a conversation with friends. A sharing of something I learned or read, or a memory. Sometimes a confession. It replaces the journal I kept for decades, the letters and photographs I used to send to friends and family, and even the hours I used to spend on the phone with loved ones. It's where I clear the jumping beans from my brain so I can get down to the business of my book, much like sorting the junk mail from the bills that need to be paid on my desk. 

It's not that I don't care about what I write here. I do, or I wouldn't bother. I pour my heart into my blog. It's a therapeutic obsession.

But my blog is a daily journey, a river constantly flowing, never a destination. I don't have time to dwell in one spot  - it's always pulling me farther downstream,  with yesterday's post fading into memory. 

But that's just me. And that's the beauty of blogs - there's not a one-size-fits-all voice or style. 

(I should mention this post began as a comment to a post on BlogHer on writing with authority. As usual, I got carried away ...)

Skirting the Eddies

Have you ever been tubing down a river?

Imagine yourself nestled in the inner tube, feeling the balance of hot sun kissing your shoulders and cold water freezing your rear-end...you lean back and watch a few clouds drift by in the bluest-blue sky above you....

You are doing nothing (except perhaps sipping on a cold drink)...just enjoying the ride; the river does all the work, gently carrying you downstream past trees...cliffs...green lawns...campgrounds...

Then you come to some rapids...you have to paddle a bit to avoid slamming your shins or bottom into a rock, but otherwise you just hang on and enjoy the ride...you're moving fast now and it's exhilarating!

But then you hit a dead spot. You're stuck. If you move at all, it's sideways toward the bank or even backwards, back where you've been. You hold your drink with your knees and start paddling hard...your shoulder muscles start aching and that tender skin of your underarms is stinging from rubbing against the rubber tube...but if you're lucky and you work hard enough, your tube slips back into that forward-moving current once again. Ah, you can relax for a bit.

Until the next eddy captures your tube.

That's what writing this book based on my great-great grandfather's memoir is like for me; there are times I'm moving fast...in some parts he's given me a lot of details and it's easy to put myself in his shoes, imagine how it was, only needing to add a touch here or there. The framework is there, at least. I pretty much just lean back and enjoy the ride of my imagination.

But sometimes...like right now...I get caught in an eddy. Right now it's a "Civil War battles" eddy - he skims right over his enlistment, his training and, I think, a few battles before mentioning the one where he gets wounded.

I need more framework! Details!  How long did your training last? What did you eat? Where was your first battle? Were you traveling by foot? Horse? Wagons? What kind of gun did you shoot? Did you miss your parents?

Details require research. And research to me...okay, nevermind that "eddy" analogy...research to me is quicksand...I become mired in details, descriptions, stories and other characters...I lose track of time, forget what it is I'm even searching for! I am a history and research maniac! (I just wish I could remember half of what I read!)

So I'm forced into self-discipline...I'm having to pull myself back and stay focused on specific quests - not allow myself to get sidetracked by the scenery - because as fun as it is, as much as I love research, I want to move on!

I'm getting better, slowly but surely. Those paddling muscles are getting stronger. But I sure hope the next few chapters are just swift downstream currents. I'm ready to lean back and enjoy the ride for awhile.

Fingers Crossed for Fame and Fortune...

...for my friends, at least. If I can't have it myself ("yet" - I haven't given up!), I can at least celebrate and shamelessly promote my friends. Last night I placed orders on Amazon for two books published by friends from high school...

Ann is beyond just a friend to me...our relationship is timeless...our souls have become soldered over the years since we first met (click here for more on our friendship story.)  She has poured her heart into this first book, Objects of Reflection: A Soulful Journey of Reflection. Don't be fooled - it's not just another "how-to" art book. It is full of her beautiful, eclectic, original art, yes...but it also includes passages of her thoughtful, poetic writing. It can also be purchased through Etsy on her blog, Isla. Ann will soon be traveling to Haiti with Artisans for Haiti, a group of artists who will use art as therapy with the earthquake victims. (The website is just being developed...keep checking.)

Gina is one of my rediscovered friends, reconnected thanks to Facebook. We worked together on our high school yearbooks, but she was a year younger than me and I lost track of her after my graduation. I think we've become better friends in these last few months of chatting via Facebook and reading each other's blogs than we were in high school. What a wonderful surprise to find out she had written a book! From Gravel to Glory: Becoming a House of God is about her spiritual journey...specifically (from her website) she "digs deeply into her own difficult spiritual journey to demonstrate how every experience we have is related to being a house of God." The book is just part of Gina's Stone's Throw Ministry...plus she's a personal coach, Christian speaker AND writes one of my favorite blogs: simply "Gina Calvert". It's enough to makes me step back and wonder what the heck I've been doing with my time these past 30+ years!

While I was ordering and feeling a little under-accomplished, I was tempted to buy another copy of State Lines - a collection of essays which includes one of mine, "A View from a Catwalk" - but seriously, how many copies do I really need? Instead, I tossed a few Elmer Kelton historical novels and and one on the history of the Texas Rangers (Lone Star Justice: The First Century of the Texas Rangers by Robert M. Utley) into the virtual cart to use as references for my book-in-progress.

Yes, I'm a history nerd...on my own journey back into Texas during the 1800's. These friends of mine are giving me the encouragement I need to stick to it...to follow it all the way to the end. So now it's time for me to mosey on down the trail...in other words, get back to writing, so I can see my own book on Amazon! Happy Trails!

Discovering Temple Grandin

I've discovered a whole new world that I didn't even realize existed.

Until about a year ago, I knew nothing about autism. I was aware of it...I personally knew children with it...but I didn't have a clue how complex it could be until I became involved with Jobs4Autism, the nonprofit website my employers sponsor.

Since then I've read numerous articles, subscribed to newsletters and joined communities on Twitter and Facebook. I've met mothers and fathers of children with autism. I've met mothers and fathers who themselves are on the autism spectrum, along with numerous founders of organizations dedicated to helping and supporting the autism cause.

What I've learned is...there is a lot more to learn. Autism is broad, layered, connected by similarities but separated by differences. And it's a lot more common than most of us realize. I've enjoyed working on the website because I can see that one of the biggest problems is just lack of understanding about autism; I feel we are doing a little bit to erase that ignorance...to help close the gap between "neuro-typicals" and those on the spectrum.

No matter where I turn, one name keeps popping up: Temple Grandin. Over the past year, I've come to know enough about her to understand why her name is mentioned whenever people begin talking about autism. She is a barrier-breaker, although she didn't set out to break barriers - she just had a dream and refused to let anyone stop her from achieving it, whether it was because she was a woman or because she was on the autism spectrum. She is an inpiration to everyone that has ever had a dream and had to overcome obstacles to reach it.

On Saturday, February 6, a movie based on two of Grandin's books (Thinking in Pictures and Emergence, co-written with Margeret Sciarano) premiers on HBO, starring Claire Danes as Temple Grandin and directed by Mick Jackson. For those like me who haven't read Grandin's books, it's a great opportunity to see her story.

Last week on Jobs4Autism I blogged about an interview with Grandin by author Chantal Sicile-Kira published in the Huffington Post. Our website is focused on employment for those on the spectrum, and in the interview Grandin shared some great advice that applies to anyone trying to get a job...not just those on the spectrum.

Grandin also mentions the importance of mentors in her life - she credits them with giving her the guidance, support and confidence she needed to move forward and accomplish all that she has accomplished. Isn't that true for anyone? I've certainly had mentors help me along my way. I sure hope in my days as a librarian and volunteer I was able to have a positive influence on the kids that crossed my path.

You can read my Jobs4Autism blog post here, but I encourage you to read Sicile-Kira's entire interview here and especially, I encourage you to watch Temple Grandin.

(above photo credit: HBO/Van Redin)

New Towels for a New Year - Thank you, Secret Santa!

Dear Secret Santa,

It was after 2am before I discovered them...

After hugging the last guests good-bye and straightening up the kitchen, I headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed; there it sat, balanced on the edge of the tub where I couldn't miss it, despite the exhaustion-and-champagne-induced fog settling into my brain...the Big Blue Gift Bag. Huh? Where did that come from?

I forgot all about bed. Pulling aside the white tissue paper, I found them...six beautiful, soft, sparkling-white, brand-spanking-new bath towels.

I cried. Now, you might try to blame that on the exhaustion and champagne, but in truth, even now...this minute...it overwhelms me to the point of tears that you were that generous, that thoughtful...and that sneaky!

Tom and I have racked our brains trying to figure out who you are, but honestly, there are too many possibilities. Going down our guest list, we realize we have many, many generous, thoughtful and, potentially, sneaky friends.

So thank you, thank you, thank you, dear Secret Santa, whoever you are. I just wanted to let you know how much your gift meant to me...and that you've inspired me to be more generous and thoughtful in this new year.

On this first day of 2010, I feel truly blessed.

Much love,

Barbara

 

Finding those towels was an amazing way to end a wonderful evening surrounded by friends - a great mixture of ex-classmates and local friends. Nothing fancy...no fireworks...but lots of food and laughter.

This first day of 2010 has been a beautiful day - about as perfect, weather-wise, as a winter day in Texas can be. I slept late and have spent more time indoors than I should have, but Tom and I took the critters for a walk and I'm about to head back outside to soak in more sunshine and ponder this new year.

I rarely make resolutions, but this year is an exception. I feel like I've slipped away from my goal of Balance...remembering the trinity within myself that reflects the Holy Trinity...my physical, mental and spiritual parts. With those in mind, this year I'm going to take better care of myself, especially trying to stay on track with exercise, eating right and getting enough sleep. I'm going to be more disciplined in my writing: finishing my book is top priority, but now that I've found a way to make a little money blogging, I don't feel guilty spending time on it, as well. And I'm hoping to enter writing competitions along the way.

I've got to get more organized around the house...I realize all of these projects-in-waiting get in the way of my peace of mind. I need to stop procrastinating, learn to plan ahead and just get things done.

But none of these things can get in the way of my spiritual life...my relationship with God. I need to spend time reading...challenging myself...learning and growing...and also doing...helping others...being more thoughtful and considerate (like my Secret Santa)...more giving of myself, my gifts, my time. And I need to keep my eyes open, to be more aware of his work and my blessings.

No matter what it is at any given moment, I'm going to try to put my whole self into it. Too often I split myself between too many things...my mind is wandering instead of focusing on whatever I'm working on...multitasking has gotten out of control. (Wish me luck on this one! I have a feeling it's going to be my toughest challenge!)

That's probably enough for now...probably too much. Maybe instead of too many goals I should just say I'll take each day as it comes with gratitude and a goal to do my best that day, to look to God to guide me to be the best 'me' I can be, to ask him to use me for his purpose. (But I sure hope finishing my book is part of his plan!)

Wishing all of you a blessed 2010! Happy New Year!

It's Christmas Eve...

Last night Tom and I fell asleep with the sound of voices in our ears...the rare sound of young voices just outside our bedroom door fighting to be heard in their eagerness to share stories, peppered with shouts, gasps and laughs. It's been months since we've had anything but silence in our ears as we drift off, and in the not-so-distant past, I would have been up shushing those voices and shooing them downstairs so I could get some sleep.

But last night the voices brought a smile to my face, and despite the ruckus, I was out within minutes.

I loved having these kids back in my house...I say "kids" even though technically they're all adults now, ranging in age from 18 to 21, recently returned from Egypt, New York City, China and various cities in Texas...but to me they'll always be kids, and when I look at them, I'll see them as they were in elementary school...junior high...high school. As students...actors...band members...scouts...soccer, basketball and football players.

I didn't have a lot of books of my own when I was growing up, but book-addict that I am, you can bet that I still have every single one of them. For some reason having all those kids here, listening to their stories about experiences far from our small town, reminded me of one of my favorites...The Seven Wonderful Cats...just a little children's book about an old lady that adopts seven kittens. In one part she lets them go away to school. She misses them terribly, but soon they return and entertain her with stories about their adventures away from home. Last night I felt like Dame Wiggins of Lee (the old lady in the book), amazed at and proud of the experiences and accomplishments of these kids that have grown up before my eyes.

Today I can hear the wind roaring through the trees outside. A cold front blew in last night, dropping temperatures 30 degrees to a more Christmas-y level. Tom is cleaning out the wood-burning stove, preparing to start a fire. What little shopping I had to do is done and now my Christmas Eve day will be spent baking cookies, wrapping a few gifts, hanging out with the kids, praying for Tommy's safe arrival this afternoon and sharing Christmas Eve Mass with my whole gang.

I hope all of you have a blessed Christmas as well...

My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that? - Bob Hope American comedian  and actor, 20th century

 

The Christmas Story Luke 2:1-20

1 In those days Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. 2 (This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.) 3 And everyone went to his own town to register. 4 So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. 5 He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.

6 While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, 7 and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. 8 And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. 9 An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10 But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. 11 Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ [a] the Lord. 12 This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." 13 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 14 Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests." 15 When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, "Let's go to Bethlehem ad see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about." 16 So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. 17 When they had seen him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, 18 and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them. 19 But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart. 20 The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things they had heard and seen, which were just as they had been told.

 

 

Updates from a Week with Wings

It's almost too much for me to fathom that Thanksgiving is only a week away. Why does time speed up so much as you get older? Is it because you start to realize how precious each minute is and you know you've wasted zillions of them already that you can't get back? Do we then try to cram so much into each minute, afraid to waste a single more, that they burst, propelling us into the future even faster?

Oh, man...too much thinking this early in the morning! And what's the sense in even wondering about it? Isn't that just another waste of a minute?

Here are a few updates of our week with wings...

...Good new first...for two meals in a row, Charly has cleaned his plate! We went back to the same old routine and he's eating again, without any begging, pleading or bribery from us. That's a blessing for sure.

...Tom has been on jury duty this week. All I know is it's a child abuse case - he can't discuss it outside of the courtroom - but it's got to be a pretty depressing way to spend the day. Nevertheless, he's happy to be doing his part as a citizen.

(On the first day he was so frustrated - they were told to report at 9am. He got there at 8:15, not knowing how much of a problem traffic or parking would be, but wanting to be sure he was on time. At 11:15 he called me - they were still waiting on other potential jurors to show up! They couldn't even start interviewing until they all arrived. One (a school teacher, for goodness sake!) rolled in around 11:45. But there was still one missing; by phone, they promised to be there by 1pm, so the bailiff told the rest of them to break for lunch...but be back by ONE! Period! Everyone did...except the schoolteacher who had just gotten there before the break. She strolled back in at 1:15. Such a lack of consideration for others...such a lack of civic responsibility and respect...that just drives me crazy.)

...besides getting my library cleaned up and relatively organized (I call it a library, but it's really just a catch-all/guest room with books filling the window sills and one metal bookshelf), I finally closed up Chapter 6 to my satisfaction. This morning I traveled a pretty good distance into Chapter 7. Little by little, it's coming along.

...yesterday morning, Charly had another adventure. He and Max headed into the woods on the trail of something, so I decided to follow them. The owners of this property  used to come out pretty frequently...they fixed it up with picnic tables, grill...even an outhouse and cistern! (We call it "The Campground".) They don't mind us walking on it - it was vandalized once, so they appreciate us keeping an eye on it for them.

Anyway, I noticed Charly meandering off a bit into the woods, but Max and Frankie were busy and I was drawn to the pond...to the reflections of the trees on the mirror surface. I had my camera and took some pictures, just kind of hanging out while the 'kids' played, getting lost in memories of the days years ago when I'd hang around on the playgrounds while Tommy, Daniel and Kendall played.

Then it hit me that Charly hadn't come back! I started calling and calling, finally diving into the woods with Max and Frankie in the direction he went, a little worried that he'd worked himself down a hill into a ravine or the edge of the pond and not be able to get out. On a walk this past Saturday I had to lift him up to the next level of rock on the creekbed. His short little legs just don't have much 'oomph' left in them. And then there are the coyotes...

We emerged onto the road and there he was, heading toward us from the bend, safe and sound. Kids!

A few pictures from our detour yesterday morning...reflections (I've always loved that tree on the other side - such a unique shape)...you can barely see Max in the prairie grass...on Charly's trail through the woods...

 
 

24 Hours Later...

There are more truths in 24 hours of a [person's] life than in all the philosophies. - Raoul Vaneigem

This struck a chord in me when I read it today. After a quick Googling and Wiki-read of Raoul, I'm not sure I would agree with him on much else, but on this we agree...what a difference 24 hours can make!

Yesterday morning, I felt...off...out of sync...faded. I had slipped out of myself and couldn't figure out why, or how to climb back in.

By yesterday evening, I felt better, but there were still a few bits of me that weren't quite into place. 

This morning, I knew as soon as I opened my eyes that all my pieces had clicked back together. I knew it when I saw the dawn glowing red through the library window, when I noticed the brilliant blue of the sky above me on our walk. Yesterday there were no colors. 

What happened in those 24 hours?

First, I faced the demons head-on...turned a light on them so they couldn't hide inside, wallowing around and getting bigger than they really were. I wrote about it (which always helps me sort things out and see them from a different perspective) and let others know about it. That way their prayers joined my own. Their good wishes helped move all the pieces of me back together again. They expressed concern, offered help, gave encouragement.

I tried to identify the nasty worries that had burrowed into my head resulting in a bad case of emotional vertigo. One by one I evicted those that I could do nothing about (beyond praying) and acted upon those that I could. It turned out finishing the library was a big hairy worry, so I skipped my workout and writing and got busy in there. It's not quite finished, but it's way beyond the halfway mark. After several trips up and down the stairs carrying armloads of books, I have the shelves filled with books about Texas, the Civil War and American history...the books I need for MY book. I have my maps pinned to the wall - the one of Texas in 1870 and the birds-eye view of Austin in 1900.  I moved the Windberg print of an old Texas barn at dawn to the wall above the computer, to look at while I write the murder scene. And even though they have nothing to do with the book, I finally hung my Great-Uncle Howard's art on the wall above the desk - amazingly detailed miniature storefronts. They were displaced by a bookshelf in the livingroom over a year ago and have just been sitting on the windowsill, neglected...a burr under my skin every time I looked at them.

But before I tackled the library, the sunset caught my eye. I headed outside and watched it from the porch swing, where I could talk to Max, Charly and Frankie. (Tom has jury duty this week, so he doesn't get home until after dark.) Charly glanced up at me a couple of times then, sighing, climbed out of his comfortable bed and over to me so I could pet him. Dogs just know, don't they?

I scratched his ears a little bit, then grabbed the brush from the windowsill and gently brushed his bony body. I was afraid it would hurt him, but he loved it. Finally he drifted off to get a drink and I brushed Max (he was still curled up on his bed.) I hit all the right spots - his leg was going good. Charly wandered back and I brushed him some more.

They say the best way to forget your blues is to do something for someone else, and it's true. Just brushing those puppies was a salve on my psyche...I think after all the prayer and good wishes, it was the final push that clicked me back together. I brushed them again tonight - it's my new evening routine.

Knowing I am blessed, and with so much tragedy in the world, so many people with real cause to be walking in the shadows, it's very annoying to find myself there, with no grounds to be sad. Thanks to everyone who sent me a note, whispered a prayer or in some other way helped me get back in the sunshine. I like it much better here.

Welcome to my 'library' ...Uncle Howard's amazing art...my books...a birds-eye view of Austin in 1900...

Connected by Words

I didn't want to drive Tom's car to work Friday. My free trial period for XM Radio was on the eve of termination and I wanted to listen every minute I could until it was gone. At $12 a month, I didn't care about it enough to subscribe, but I wanted all the 'free' I could get.

But Tom needed to change the oil in my car and we were heading to Houston as soon as I got home. 'Nuff said. I climbed into his car, resigned to the situation, and turned up the radio. What a surprise to hear a familiar voice on the radio...a distinctive Texas twang talking about sunsets on Lake Travis and a black bird. It was a writer friend, Frances Nail, reading one of her essays on National Public Radio.

Frances had been on my mind lately - I hadn't heard from her in a while and wondered how she was doing...if she was still writing. She's around my dad's age and one of my inspirations - she didn't start writing until her sixties, but when she started - whoa!- she churned out essays and memoirs at a rate that made me green with envy! It seemed every week I saw her name in the Houston Chronicle's Texas magazine's State Lines column. She would have three published before I could even finish one!

We met because of one of those first essays she wrote almost twenty years ago...she quoted a few lines from one of my favorite poems, "Little Boy Blue" by Eugene Fields. She had 'lost' the rest of the poem (the essay was about things she had lost.)

Right away, I typed out the entire poem and sent it to the editor, Ken Hammonds, asking him to forward it to Frances. Soon, she wrote me herself from her home in Lakeway, thanking me. Not long after that, we moved to the other side of the lake. She had published her first book, Crow in the House, Wolf at the Door, a collection of her essays and memoirs, and invited us to the book-signing in an old house downtown. That was our first face-to-face meeting.

When her second book was published, we had our second face-to-face meeting. I sat in the audience of  a panel at the Texas Book Festival she was in with Liz Carpenter and Leon Hale, both college friends of hers and successful writers. Afterwards, I said hi to her and she introduced me to Leon Hale, a dream come true for me - I had been reading his column in the Houston Chronicle for as long as I had been able to read.

We emailed a little after that, but it's been a while since I'd heard from her. I'm not sure what made me think of her recently, but hearing her voice on the radio was like an answer to a prayer. If I had driven my car, if I had left a little bit later, I would have missed it. I just love "coincidences" like that.

Feeling Wild...

It is an absolutely gorgeous day in Texas, the end of an absolutely gorgeous weekend. Perfect temperatures, clear blue skies, flowers blooming, dragonflies buzzing....

I've spent a weekend surrounded by friends, experiencing new places, food and drink...cheering, laughing, hugging. And it hasn't stopped yet...

We snagged Daniel from his apartment late last night - he came home to do his laundry and just hang out at the house with us. I planned to spend this day trying to get caught up on my to-do list and enjoy the sunshine.

But something is calling me and I have to answer - the call of the wild..."Where the Wild Things Are" is playing nearby - one of my all-time favorite children's books. Who better to see it with than one of my own "Max"s (Daniel). We've thoroughly justified the shirking of responsibility in our own minds. I'm not sure if Tom will buy our excuses, but that usually doesn't stop us.

Off to the wild rumpus...

Like Standing on Boo Radley's Porch

One of my favorite quotes in To Kill a Mockingbird is when Atticus says you should "climb into someone's skin and walk around in it" before judging them. The point is visually driven home in the movie when Scout stands on Boo Radley's porch seeing the world, or at least the neighborhood, from his point of view.

For the last few months, I have been in a crash course on autism. My company (NameStormers) sponsors a nonprofit website called Jobs4Autism.com, and part of my job is promoting and moderating the website, including writing short blog posts, researching autism, and communicating with some individuals on the spectrum through Twitter, email and Facebook. I have to admit it's the most interesting and rewarding part of my job. Every day I learn a little more, and realize that what I know is a drop in the bucket.

In my research I came across this documentary video, "Inside Looking Out" by Nick Simone, a young man with Asperger's Syndrome, a form of autism. Like Scout standing on Boo Radley's porch, watching this video allows us to look at the world from Nick's point-of-view and in doing so, have more understanding for those in the autism spectrum.

    Take a look and prepare to be impressed....

Playing Teacher. And Student.

My first class is behind me, thank goodness. I really didn't know what to expect, even though I'm the teacher as well as the student.

Actually, I didn't know what to expect because the teacher-me still hadn't quite figured out how it should go...

Should I spend the entire time writing? If so, how much and/or for how long? Will my writing goal be based on chapters-per-week, or should I make it so many words a day?

And what about reading? I really should review some of my writing books, and then there are all of the historical reference materials I've gathered...should I include time for that during "class"? I could call it the "lecture".

Or should all of my reading be considered homework?

Sigh. 

By the time class started, I still hadn't ironed it all out, but I knew I couldn't waste time worrying about it. I would just start writing.

And wouldn't you know...it took two agonizing semesters, but my writing mentality seems to be thoroughly set in "screenplay" mode now. For months the biggest obstacle I faced in writing my screenplay was 'too much detail' where I didn't need it. The kind of detail that goes into books, but isn't necessary, and in fact, gets in the way of a screenplay. I had to cut, cut, cut.

Now I've got to work my detail-muscles back into shape - characters, setting, etc. And I've got to jump out of the present-tense back into the past.

What was I thinking? Why did I think I should switch from screenplay to novel?

No, I still think it's the right decision. My old habits aren't gone - just tucked into one of those folders stacked on the desk in the library. And it's good for my brain to have to switch back and forth - it'll keep those gears turning smoothly, and (I hope) make me a better writer all around.

By the time class ended tonight, I had read over pages and pages of story notes from the past two semesters, waded back into the facts and mused about the parts in-between that I get to make up, typed, deleted, typed, deleted, and finally managed to churn out (almost) a whole first chapter.

It's not much, but it's a start. I've spent three months away from the story, and I'm surprised how much I've forgotten. I'll need to spend almost as much time reviewing and researching as I do writing at first, and it's easy for me to get lost in the research. I love stepping back in time, following other trails that are fascinating but have nothing to do with my story. Now that I'm really limited on time, I'm going to have to keep a tight rein on myself and stick to searching only for relevant information and not get carried away, especially now in the beginning when I just need to get the story down. 

And I know, before too long, I'll once again be lost in this story. My characters will remember me...they'll forget their shyness and take over the telling. Then I'll be able to step aside and just type.

"Writing is like hunting. There are brutally cold afternoons with nothing in sight, only the wind and your breaking heart. Then the moment when you bag something big. The entire process is beyond intoxicating." - Kate Braverman

 

Finding the Right Balance

Something about the start of a new school year always fires me up - I find myself making resolutions, setting goals, and getting organized as if it were New Year's Eve!  I think about starting projects that have been pushed from season to season and ultimately ignored all year, as if I have to get them done right NOW!

Maybe it's leftover from childhood, this excitement, this sense of a new beginning. No matter what went wrong in the previous year, a new school year was a chance for a fresh start.

Right now I'm mostly fired up about my Number One Goal - writing my book. My "class" starts tomorrow, so I've been trying to straighten up my "classroom", which means sorting through all the crap that has accumulated around the computer and the piles of odds-and-ends on my desk in the library (it's just a door on sawhorses, so it makes a great place to temporarily put things that are then promptly forgotten.)

I've come across at least four books I started reading this past year, napkin-bookmarks waving at me optimistically from quarter points. When was the last time I finished a book? I really can't remember. That's another one of my goals: read more. I'm determined to finish ALL of these books. Maybe one night a week I'll set aside just for reading...

Two of my mother's photo albums are sitting on the desk...I brought them home with me several months ago, intending to scan all of the pictures, return them and bring back two more, and so on, until I had them all saved in my computer. One of those summertime projects that just drifted along, in no hurry to be done. I bet if I spend thirty minutes or so every evening after work, before I start writing, I could get them all scanned in no time...

On the other side of the library four big boxes are stacked against one wall, and several plastic bins. It sure would be nice to move those down to the storage room, but it's already so full...boxes and boxes of arts and crafts supplies, dress-up clothes, and no telling what else ... all summer I've been meaning to get down there and go through all of the boxes to see what I need to keep and what can be tossed...maybe...

Focus, Barbara!!

Well, it's clear I'm my own worst enemy. I'm going to have lots of distractions, even with the kids out of the house. I can't just ignore everything else around here - obviously, I'm going to have to find some kind of balance, and that if I want to have a completed novel under my belt by the end of this semester, the balance will have to lean toward my writing. Wish me luck! You can see I'm going to need it.

A Texas Night...Stories and Music Under the Stars

    Using my cell phone as a flashlight, Tom and I followed a dirt trail through oaks and junipers. A string of lights blinked at us through the boughs - a beacon in the darkness. I couldn't believe we forgot a flashlight. Or that I had worn my flip-flops. But we still worked our way up the steep rocky driveway to our friends' house and found the trail that led to the rustic stage they built in the woods on their property. Jim's a musician (Linton Mancilla) and each Friday night this summer they've had an informal jam session, open to other musicians or music-lovers. This past Friday night was the first chance we've had to go!

    But why didn't we hear any music?  Only voices filtered through the trees to us. I understood as we stepped into the clearing...our friend Larry Waddle sat on a stool in the front-center of the stage, talking about his book West to Trust - answering questions, explaining how he got this idea that just wouldn't let go of him, so he had to write it. Oh, yeah...I understood that feeling!

    He read from his book, a novel set in the South and Texas during the Civil War. He has the perfect voice for it...full of rich Southern Twang, well-polished from his day job as an auctioneer. It was fun sitting there under the stars and trees on a hot Texas night, Larry's words drifting around us about a family deciding to come to Texas for a fresh start. It had another affect on me, too...

    ...a night or two before this, I caught the tail end of a television interview with J.K. Rowling (creator of Harry Potter for anyone who's been living under a rock the past ten years.)  She was visiting the small apartment she lived in while writing the first book, sharing her memories of that time and her thoughts about writing. I could feel inspiration flowing straight from her into me, like a rush of adrenaline pumping up my imagination. I needed to get back to my fiction writing! But how, between work, the house-husband-kids-critters responsibilities, and another college class in the fall, and still have time to sleep?

    Listening to Larry just set my brain-wheels turning faster. I just had to figure out a way! And then it hit me...rather than take a real class this fall (I needed to save the money, anyway...), I'm going to form my own "writing class"...complete with syllabus, reading and writing assignments. And STRICT deadlines. I'm going to be really, really tough on myself - no excuses! I know it's the only way I'll get it done - and this way Tom can still nag me about my homework!

    As if in celebration of my decision, and confirmation that it was the right thing to do, Jim and Eric (the other half of Linton Mancilla), took over the stage for the rest of the evening, accompanied by members of the audience and other musicians. Both of them had been playing around with music on the side for years before coming together in middle age to fulfill dreams of one day recording and performing their own original compositions. Just more inspiration that it's never too late to keep chasing a dream!

        So wish me luck - and feel free to nag me! In fact, PLEASE nag me (but only every once in a while!)

Larry and his audience...

 

Jim and Greg...

Eric in action ...

Acting Up - A Night in Vegas

    Last night I was drunk in Vegas, getting suckered in by a sidewalk hustler, even putting my football team on the line. I guess I should make it clear I was playing a part in my classmate's screenplay, having a blast getting into this middle-aged pushy tough guy character. I had two other parts to read, but this was my favorite.

    I can see why people want to be actors. You get to act in ways that would be totally inappropriate otherwise. It's so liberating and...well, fun!  Just watch some kids playing 'let's pretend..."

    I loved acting when I was in elementary school. I don't think I was very good, judging by the fact that I never got a very big part in our class plays. But I loved it - the costumes, the stage, everything.   In kindergarten I was a clown. Second grade, a sugarplum fairy ballerina (the only purple one - my mother didn't get the message that we were supposed to be pink. I can't remember how I felt about being different. I bet I didn't like it at first, but my mother was able to convince me that it made me special. She's a great mom that way.)

    In fifth grade I played an Italian watermelon salesman. I wore a white shirt and a fake mustache. I still remember my lines: "You busta my-a watermelons! You lonkahead! You imbecile!" I got the part because I had memorized and recited a poem named "Leetla Giorgio Washeenton" by Thomas Augustine Daly for the class (with a near-perfect Italian accent, I'm sure.)

    Our teacher, Barbara Haygood, bribed us with a star chart to memorize poems. You got different colored stars depending on the length of the poem. I'm not sure why, but this just clicked with me. I memorized dozens of other long poems printed in our worn 1957 edition of  Favorite Poems Old and New (I have it sitting beside me right now - I keep it handy - and I see the names and pages of some of my favorites jotted in the front in my ten-year-old handwriting) just to see the shiny colored stars accumulate under my name on the chart:  "Annabel Lee", "The Land of Counterpane", "A Visit from St. Nicholas", and "Tidings of Great Joy" (the Christmas Story from Luke), among others.

    I have trouble remembering where I put my keys most days, but I can still recite "Little Boy Blue" by Eugene Field (so can my sister - we do it for fun pretty often), and most of "One, Two, Three" by Henry Cuyler Bunner. Look them up if you need a good cry.

    Anyway, something happened between then and high school speech. I was mortified to get up in front of people. My biggest regret in high school is not taking part in our senior play - Lil' Abner - but there was just no way I was that brave.

    I encouraged my kids to participate in theater. None of them had a driving passion, but they enjoyed it. They weren't mortified, thank goodness. And I'm relieved I've gotten over my fear. It's so much more fun without it.

    I'm even considering taking an improv class that one of my classmates is teaching in a couple of weeks. That would be a HUGE step for me. For now, I'll stick to playing drunk gambling big shots from the safety of my school desk.

Is Longhollow in Narnia or Oz?

    According to our friend's GPS program, our house doesn't exist. No matter how he typed in our address..."Adrian Way", "Adrian Boulevard"...it said there was no such place. I knew we lived in a beautiful place...even magical at times...but I guarantee it's not Narnia or Oz. Our mail gets delivered, for goodness sakes. Granted, it's put in a mailbox a mile from our house, but it's to our address. I wonder why Bob's GPS (and also Netflix, by the way) thinks it doesn't exist?

    No big deal. I just gave Netflix my friend's address and picked our movies up there. And I told Bob he could call for directions on Friday before they head over here. Sometimes the old-fashioned ways still work. 

    Highlights of this week...

    One of my favorite shows is CBS Sunday Morning. If you've never watched it, you should. The stories are always well-done and interesting, but this past Sunday was really good. I'm always getting ready for church while it's on and get bits and pieces, but I had to pull up the kitchen stool and sit still for a few minute while watching a couple of them this week. One was about Abraham Lincoln- there's a new book out about the REAL Abraham Lincoln, his evolution from racist to the President we're all familiar with.

    The other story was about books, one of my favorite subjects.  Specifically, about bibliophiles...people like me who collect more books than they can read in a lifetime, just because. I've included it here...if you're a bibliophile, too, you'll enjoy it...

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    Monday was a dream...a day of solitude, reserved for research and writing. Except for a little Facebook time in the morning (lots of good writing wishes from friends), a couple of emails, and one phone call, I was very disciplined and used my time wisely. I have finally twisted my mind around the story, understand my character and have a concrete idea of how to proceed with my screenplay. What a relief!

    Tuesday...Kendall needed a blouse for a Woman's Club luncheon tomorrow (scholarship opportunity), so we headed out shopping. I took a book to read while she shopped, determined to maintain my discipline and 'using time wisely' momentum, but, alas, Macy's had their knee-high boots on clearance...the very ones I've been wanting for several years but refused to pay full price for or make a special trip to the mall for when they were previously on sale.  I decided I could live with the guilt, and so, despite my proclamation of tightening the belt, they're sitting in my closet right now. I love them.

    Also Tuesday (last night)...Tommy called. A line of severe thunderstorms had passed over his house - the tornado siren went off, and thank God he did what he was supposed to do - hid in a closet under the stairs. This is my son who used to drive to a nearby hill during thunderstorms because he loves to watch lightning flashing all over the sky...also the one who, several years ago during a tornado warning, kept saying "I want to see a tornado! I want to see a tornado!" and so sure enough, while we're stuck in traffic with the storm passing over us, we see a tornado off to our left sucking up bits of houses from a neighborhood, then pass through a debris-littered intersection near a demolished grocery store, and once home, on the television see several square miles in a small town near us, Jarrell, that have been totally wiped out, scraped clean. So you can see why I was relieved he had the sense to get in the closet this time. They do grow up, don't they?

I Miss READING

    I miss reading just for fun, what I want, and for as long as I want. Right now there are twenty more pages of the third (partial) screenplay I need to read and critique before tomorrow night waiting for me on the kitchen table, and then I need to work on my own, but I needed a break. I remember when I could sit and read for hours, but years of needing to jump up and take care of a million other things, of only having time to read for 30 minutes at a time, makes it really hard to just sit there. Especially when it's not something I would normally choose to read.

    It's funny how college keeps readers from reading. Up until my first run of it, I read and read and read - I had no problem reading for hours and not doing another damn thing. Once I started college, I didn't have time...except for the required reading for history and English. And then I read every book that was assigned, plus some.

    My kids are all readers, thank goodness. That's about all Daniel got in trouble for in school - reading in class when he wasn't supposed to be. He probably read three or four books over the Christmas holidays, cramming them in because he knew he wouldn't have time once school started back up. And he was working eight hours a day, plus seeing friends, during that same time. Kendall keeps a book on the table to read while she eats, and Tommy got to where he wouldn't even start a book unless he knew he had two or three days to do nothing but read because he knew he wouldn't want to put the book down, even to sleep.

    Ironically, chemical plants are great places to work for readers (at least, they used to be...I don't know anymore.) I almost read as much for fun then as I did in high school.  The trade-off, of course, was I didn't have as much time at home with my kids. And when it came down to it, I picked time with my kids.

    I read a lot when my kids were little. Of course, most of the books were only about 10 pages long and there wasn't a lot of plot or in-depth characterization...sometimes not even any words...lots of pictures, though. 

    I didn't have much time to read for myself. I do remember one weekend when Tom and I snuck off to go tubing and camping in New Braunfels - I picked up a copy of the Joy Luck Club at Walmart and just lounged around, reading. That was a wonderful weekend...

    I guess it's all about choices. Now I choose trying to finish my degree and writing in my "spare" time over reading for pleasure - these days when I pick up a book it's got "writing" or "screenplay" in the title somewhere - and I don't even have much time for those, either. The rare book I pick up for pleasure sometimes takes me so long to read (imagine ten minute snatches of my day while I wait in a doctor's office) that it starts to feel like another chore I just want to finish. Or, if it's a really good book, I reach a point in it (usually just past the halfway mark) when I can't put it down, and everyone gets upset because nothing is getting done - no food in the house...no laundry done...you get the idea. The exception is the Bible - a chapter a day. I've read it all the way through a couple of times, fast and slow. I find the best way is in small bites that you can savor throughout the day.

    I like to pretend that one day I'll actually read all of the other books I've collected, but I know better. I'm sure there will come a day when I'll read just for pleasure again, but I'll never be able to lose myself for days at a time in another world like I used to - unless I'm creating it, that is. I've reached an age when I don't want to just stick my nose in one book after another - there are too many other things I still want to experience or accomplish. Like getting my degree, and writing the screenplay, the short stories, the book...

    But...I miss reading, just to read...

A New Day, A New Year, A New Resolve

    

    My friend Nancy once told me to be careful what I did on New Year's Day, because that's what I'd be doing all year long. Her example was cleaning house, so for the past few years I've made sure I didn't spend the first day of the new year cleaning and cleaning.

    Looking around my house, I'm thinking that might have been a mistake!

    I don't really make "Resolutions" with a capital "R", but this morning I thought of some things I need to improve on in the next year (cleaning, staying organized, getting enough sleep), things I want to spend more time doing (playing my drums, reading, writing, talking to friends and family), and things I already do that I need to continue (working out, walking, praying, eating right, doing things for others, indulging myself) and today I'm trying to fit them all in.

    So far, so good. I prayed, ran, watched a movie, played the drums, and Tom and I took a walk with the dogs and Frankie. I'm almost caught up with laundry and dishes (lots of cups from Daniel's party last night.) I've spent a lot of time on the phone, saying "Happy New Year!" I've eaten PRETTY good, except for some fudge that I made - one of our holiday traditions...but I think that might fit under "indulging myself" (eating it) and also "doing things for others" (making it.)

    I still need to tackle the paperwork covering my desk, and I'm going to write a couple of pages on my screenplay. And I'd like to read later on.

    But, as determined as I am to do all of this, I realize that when I add work and school to the list, my day might feel a little crunched at times. I also hope I can remain flexible, spontaneous, ready to take advantage of surprise opportunities, not stress out if I don't get everything done, be able to say "that's all I can do today" and go to bed at a decent hour so I get enough rest.

    This morning I spent a little time catching up on some of my favorite blogs, and on Pete Grassow's Rock in the Grass I came across this Franciscan Benediction he says can be found in Philip Yancey's book Prayer. I thought it was great, very fitting for the New Year and new resolves, and so I'll share it here, too (and I think I'll put the book on my reading list)...

May God bless you with discomfort,
at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships,
so that you may live deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger,
at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people,
so that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with tears,
to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war,
so that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their
pain to joy.

And may God bless you with enough foolishness,
to believe that you can make a difference in this world,
so that you can do what others claim cannot be done
to bring justice and kindness to all our children and the poor

Amen. 

 

An Anniversary of Sorts

    For the past few weeks, my mind has skipped back and forth from the present to the late 1800s...I've been separating my great-great-grandfather's memoir into fluorescent colors - green is his life from his first step across the Red River into Texas, through the Indian Wars and his cowboy days; orange takes over during the Civil War, Reconstruction, and his two years in prison, interspersed with pink for love and family; and yellow is reserved for the last chapter of his life, when he tried to piece it all back together, finally learning to accept things the way they were and make the most of it.

    I didn't think very much about the colors - except for pink, of course - but I realize there is some significance in my choices. Both green and orange are yellow plus another color, so yellow is a good color for the time in his life when he rids himself of illusions and extras, down to the essence of himself that was there all along, his true self....

    As I read and re-read the words he wrote in 1901, I try to decipher what he's really saying, what he's leaving out and why. I try to see what he describes through his eyes, and then from the eyes of his friends, loved ones, and even his enemies. It's tough...meaning, it's tough to imagine living through all of it. I have to take lots of breaks, pull myself out of it and think about what I'm reading, try and put it into perspective.

    The first time I read his memoir, I couldn't put it down. I read it straight through. I was pretty familiar with Texas history and the Civil War, had read a lot of books, visited the battlegrounds, watched the documentaries and movies, but his words brought it all to life in a way I couldn't have imagined possible. It was liking stepping through a portal into that time of violence. Through his words and descriptions, I could see it, and much of it broke my heart. That's when I got the idea to turn it into a screenplay.

    It has taken another five or six years now...maybe even more...for the next step - actually trying to write it. And as with most things, it's turning out to be a little more complicated than I thought it would be. But I'm optimistic and determined. His life was full of tragedy, but in writing his memoir he hoped to send a message, warning others not to make the same mistakes he made. I want to help him get the message out, and at the same time make sure his loyalty, love, courage and strength of character aren't buried beneath his flaws along the way in the telling. Wish me luck!

    By the way, today is the 114th anniversary of the day he was released from prison. In his words..."Freedom! Oh! Freedom is so sweet to a man!"

    Today I'm grateful for my freedom...that I live in America...that my cousin found this memoir so we could all finally read it...for my great-great-grandfather's willingness to share his story so many years ago...for the chance to finally try to turn it into a movie or book so others can learn from his life the way he hoped.

Book Babes and Kirby's 21st Birthday

    I think I have a new favorite blog - Book Babes. I admit I haven't read that much of it, but how can I resist a blog about BOOKS and MIDLIFE? Granted, I don't have much time to read, but that makes their blog even better - they do the screening for me and pick out books that I'll probably like, because...let's face it, I'm almost 50 and about as midlife as a woman can be.

    It's been a full day...early Mass so I could fit the grocery store in before Kendall's soccer game (they beat the Pumas for the first time, 3-1!! And yes, I lit a candle...) A beautiful sunset in the hills, grilled pork chops from Tom, the first fire of the season in our wood-burning stove, an exciting Desperate Housewives episode, and now a new favorite blog! A very good day, indeed...

    It's also Tommy's girlfriend Kirby's 21st birthday. He drove to Lubbock this weekend to help her celebrate and is now on his way back home to Dallas. So HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KIRBY!

 

She sent me this picture of them at the University of Texas vs. Texas Tech game a couple of weekends ago...Texas Tech (her school) won. Normally, I'd be rooting for UT, but Kirby's enthusiasm is contagious, so I'm happy that Tech won, for her sake. Sort of like an early birthday present, right?

Mapping Our Lives and (not quite) meeting Moose

    Maps are of time, not place. Maps show not only where we're headed, but they show us where we've been. Without them we would not only lose our way, but our past as well.

    No, I didn't write that. I stole it from the home page of the Save Texas History link from the Texas General Land Office Archives and Records web page . They give credit to English poet Henry Reed.

    I went to the Texas Book Festival in downtown Austin this afternoon (picking Daniel up from UT along the way), but instead of coming home with books, I carried copies of historical maps...Texas in 1874 and Austin in 1895. There were two or three others that I wanted as well, but I tried to exert a LITTLE control and common sense. One was an 1851 map for German immigrants - I was SO close to getting that one, too (a family history thing) but I can go to the website later and order it.

    I've been wanting a large framed early map of Texas for a long, long, LONG, time. This one isn't framed, which is why I could afford it ($20 for each map.) I succumbed to my greed because my purchase is helping to SAVE TEXAS HISTORY! It's part of an historic preservation program of the Texas General Land Office. I will also use it as reference for my screenplay...the 1895 Austin map, too, which is really cool - it isn't just a road map...it's a "bird's eye view" with sketches of the buildings ON the roads.   

    I could never really explain why I'm drawn to old maps - I think they're beautiful...pieces of art...but I knew that wasn't the only reason. Finally, thanks to Reed, there are words for my feelings.

    However, I didn't go to the Book Festival for the maps - that was a bonus! I went to listen to a panel about writing memoirs which included Stephanie Klein, author of Straight Up and Dirty, and Moose, and the blog, "Greek Tragedy." I hoped to meet her afterward at the book signing, but Daniel hadn't eaten yet, and I was already hungry again. By the time we found something to eat and made our way to the book-signing tent, Stephanie and the other panel authors - Jeannie Ralston, Stephanie Elizondo Griest, and Robert LeLeux - were already gone.

    Their inspiration lingers...I feel little idea seeds for a couple of memoirs sprouting in my brain. But first there's this screenplay, and my children's book, and a couple of short stories...

Waves, Lariats, and Other Metaphors for Texas Winters

     I had to grab my gloves and insulated jacket for my walk with the dogs this morning. Another wave of winter rolled in from the north last night. This one was serious - it dropped into the forties! (That's winter in Texas, y'all...) Of course, with the help of the sun, it was back up into the high seventies by the afternoon.

    Winter here is like waves on a beach, stretching farther and farther with each push until finally, at high tide, the beach is covered.

    Okay, here's another metaphor...

     Winter is twirling its lariat, trying to lasso us and tie us down with cold temperatures, but so far it's missing the mark - the rope just hits us without catching, and winter has to roll it up and try again. Sooner or later, though, we'll be roped and tied up for, oh, two or three months.

    I'm sure there are other metaphors...if you think of one, email me or leave a comment. This is a lot more fun than trying to think of foreshadowing for my screenplay (no, I haven't finished this past Friday's assignment yet. Don't tell my kids.)

    But now I really am going to get to work...(wish me luck! And Byron, thank you for suggesting Story by Robert McKee...he embellishes and enriches everything I read in my lesson and textbook...)