Long Hollow

The Truth According to Kafka

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SOME UNJUSTIFIABLE WHINING.   

    "Sidney, uh, how many pages do we need to have done by next week?"
    "Oh, just enough to get an idea of the main character, get to the first turning point, so, say twenty or thirty?"
    (gasps from several of us.)
    "Come on, people, this is a writing class - you should be writing. At least 15 to 20 pages a week! And don't forget - I need your samples before Wednesday so I can read them and make them available to the class beforehand."
    "How early?"
    "ASAP. Now would be good."
    "What's the LATEST?" (ever the procrastinator)
    "Say...Saturday. At the LATEST!"

    So by Saturday morning - actually Friday night since we're going to Houston Saturday morning - I need to have at LEAST the first 20 pages of my screenplay done. Let's see, if you subtract what I already have, that leaves...20 pages. I do have 20 or so pages written from last semester, but I've changed how I want to start it, so right now most of those do me no good. 
     So, okay, somehow, between work, meeting my cousin this evening in town to watch her daughter play basketball at Concordia University (a cousin I only get to see once or twice a year, if I'm lucky), and the usual eating, sleeping, laundry, kids, critters, husband stuff, I've got to come up with the 20 pages by tomorrow night. And after that, I need to churn out 3 or 4 pages a day until it's finished.

    If this was a novelization, I wouldn't have a problem (easy for me to say right now, since it's not a novelization.) But I'm still just getting the feel for screenplays - what to leave in, what to leave out, when to capitalize, indent, what all the acronyms stand for...

"A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people." ~ Thomas Mann

    It's only been in the past couple of years that I've been able to work out a balance that meets my spiritual, physical and mental needs almost every day. I'm going to have to throw it all out of kilter to get this done. But this is something I want to do - NEED to do - and so I'm just going to do it. Somehow. Some way. And hopefully without losing too much sleep.

    By sheer coincidence (or was it?), today I came across this revelation by Franz Kafka from a blog called Daily Routines: "As he recognized, the truth was that he wasted time."

    The truth can be cruel, can't it?

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...

Today's Debate: Are Squirrels Evil?

    My friend Scott Gray sent this to me after reading about our adventure with the squirrel yesterday. Makes you wonder...

#%!# Squirrels!

First clue: TG heard a scratching sound in the attic above her bathroom.

Tom grabbed a ladder and climbed on the roof. Sure enough, a squirrel came shooting out of a teensy one inch gap in a seam up there, surprising the you-know-what out of him.

Armed with screening and I don't know what else, Tom patched it up, then climbed up into the attic from the inside to make sure there wasn't a nest or anything.

Thank goodness, this squirrel was flying solo.

 

    I helped by taking pictures. Frankie helped by flying up into a tree and squawking at Tom.

  

 

Fickle Weather, Amazing Brooms, and Old Friends

    Friday was summer...sunshine, shorts, sweat, air-conditioning in the car. Saturday was winter...gray skies, biting wind, bundle up, heater on. Sunday is a compromise.

    Yesterday Tom and I met friends downtown at the Home and Garden Show, hoping for more Garden than we found. While the show was a bit of a let-down, it was fun just getting out, seeing Darla, Maddie, Leslie, and Clive. I didn't come home empty-handed, though. Darla and I jumped on a special deal - the first five to purchase the AMAZING EURO-BROOM got a second one FREE! How could we resist? Once home and tried out, maybe it's not as amazing as it seemed, of course, but that's okay - I needed some more brooms, anyway. Mine tend to disappear...outside...to the garage...it's good to have extras.

    Yesterday was also another 50th birthday. Todd is one of those friends who has been somewhere in my life forever, it seems. He's been great about keeping in touch over the years, and the one that broke it to me when my old boyfriend died. Since he's been battling his own health issues in recent years, I worry when I don't hear from him in a while and I nag him about not taking care of himself. I want him to be around to wish many more "Happy Birthdays!"

Here's Todd and the other guys in my 2nd grade class after our play...in back Ricky, Todd, Alan, David, Randy, Keith, and in front Dwayne, Mark, Paul, Travis, and the other Ricky.

And Todd at one of our get-togethers this past year...

Sometimes Nice Doesn't Cut It

    I sat on the hood of my car in the deserted strip center parking lot, brooding over the fresh argument with my boyfriend, jingling my car keys in my hand, trying to decide what to do. Go back in or go home? He was still in the club - music drifted out of the building and across the street to me. I imagined him in there flirting, dancing, not giving me or our argument a second thought.

    The figure came out of the shadows at the end of the building, walking slowly toward me along the storefronts. He was about my age, a little taller than me, and skinny. Scrawny. I didn't feel threatened or wary at all.

    I probably smiled and said hi when he got near enough. If you're nice to people, they're nice to you, right? He stopped and asked me for directions to somewhere...I don't remember where. Then sometime...somehow...while I was answering him, he was suddenly in front of me, trying to take my keys out of my hand, telling me to give them to him, to get in the car.

    My hands clamped down tight on my keys, but his arms were wrapped around me, and I couldn't break free, couldn't get loose. He was strong! Way stronger than he looked. I refused to give up, though. I didn't really think about it - I just knew I couldn't do what he wanted me to do. I kept fighting, twisting, turning. I started yelling, SCREAMING at the top of my lungs...HELP ME! HELP ME! HELP ME!

    Then, just as suddenly as he'd grabbed me, he let go. He ran into a field beside the parking lot and disappeared into a nearby neighborhood.

    Shaking, crying, I ran to the club and told my boyfriend what happened. He walked me back to my car, looked around in the direction of the neighborhood, saw nothing, and told me to go home. I did. And that's it. Didn't call the police, not even sure I told my parents. Just went home, in shock from the close call.

    That was more than thirty years ago. When I think about that night, I'm so grateful that I'm not really as nice as I try to be most of the time, grateful that I instinctively fought back, that I didn't just do as he ordered, that I refused to give up. I'd rather not think about what might have happened otherwise.

    I also can't help wondering what happened to that guy...where did he go? Where is he now? Did he find some other victim that was nicer, one that perhaps gave up easier or couldn't fight back? I feel really guilty that I was satisfied with my own safety - in that way I did quit and give in to him. I should have gone to the police, or done SOMETHING to keep this guy from attacking someone else. But I didn't.

    I didn't stop trying to be nice to strangers that night, thank goodness. But I did learn to be wary. I'm less trusting, more cynical and suspicious. I still give "nice" a try, but my "fight" is just under the surface.

    I see the world and the way nations relate to each other (specifically the US to others, of course) in relation to my experience. I think it's foolish to believe that we can resolve anything with terrorist leaders by just talking to them, trying to reason with them. Being "nice". Of course, these should be the first steps in resolution - ALWAYS at least TRY talking - but I guess I'm aware from my experience that there are some people that aren't nice, don't want to or aren't able to reason, people that will just take advantage of YOU being nice, see it as a weakness to exploit. "Fight" should always be an option, and if you put it off too long...well, sometimes it's just too late.

    And my guilt that I was satisfied with my own safety reminds me that our country shouldn't just be satisfied with our own safety - I feel we have a responsibility to help protect other countries from the world versions of my attacker, not just let them run off and attack someone less willing or able to fight back.

    I am by no means a war-monger. I hate violence, hate fighting. I don't even like arguing. I am a peacemaker, a compromiser, a "Big Picture" person. I will talk a problem to death. But I realize not everyone is that way, not everyone is reasonable, and sometimes, to ensure peace, you have to be willing to stop talking, to fight, to stand up for yourself or for others. That's what I learned in the parking lot that night.  I'm glad I'm still here to share it.   

Intimidation Breeds Success (I hope)

    For the first time in about twenty years, I don't feel out of place, age-wise, in a classroom. I'm about average, in fact.

    Skill-wise...that's different. There are about a dozen of us in this screenwriting class - actually a workshop - and last night as we went around the circle introducing ourselves and describing our screenplays-in-progress, I realized I'm at the lower end of that scale. There are professional writers, actors, comedians...there's a retired couple who are working on their third screenplay...and it seemed like everyone else had a much clearer vision of their screenplay than I did.

    I felt this exact way before, though, in my first creative writing class years ago. It was also a workshop, and it was clear in the very first class, and from listening to my classmates read their works each week that I was the least talented. It was a tough fact to acknowledge, because I was so driven to write. I had to remind myself that I joined the class to learn, to become the best writer that I could be, even if my best never measured up to the best of others. I stuck it out, got over the fear of reading my work out loud, learned how to detach myself from it so I could improve from the critiques, rather than get defensive and feel hurt. My first published essay came from that class.

    So on the (long) drive home last night, I reminded myself that I was in this class to learn how to write a screenplay, not to compete with my classmates. If I keep an humble attitude and work hard, I'll learn a lot, and have at least a first draft of a completed screenplay at the end of it all...the perfect 50th birthday present to myself!

    

Wednesdays...WHOOSHdays...and updates

    Between now (getting home from work, sipping on a warmed-up cup of coffee to see me through the evening and counter the effects of all the antihistamine I'm having to take for the cedar) and when I need to leave for class, I have about an hour...

    That's an hour to start dinner (only start - I'll get it in the oven and Tom or Kendall will have to take it out), move the laundry around (we've somehow run out of clean wash cloths even though I swear I just did towels), get my bank deposit slip and electric bills ready (ours and the Boy Scouts') for multiple stops on my to the college (I also have to get gas and drop the last Netflix movie in the mailbox.) Oh, and get the DVD recorder set up to record Lost...

    This is a template for every Wednesday for the next three months...rush, rush, rush...but maybe at the end I'll have a semblance of a screenplay to show for it.

Updates...

Yay! Charly is eating again! He's back to normal.

Boo! Forecasters say we're in for another month or so of "cedar fever".

Ah, man! Tom has a couple more tricks to try on Tommy's car, but he strongly suspects we're going to have to just get a new engine (that brings the score to 2 new engines we need - maybe we'll find a special somewhere! Two for the price of one?)

    

Hope

    No, I didn't vote for Obama. But that doesn't mean I can't be caught up in the wave of optimism that seems to be swallowing our country today. I don't believe a President by himself, no matter who he or she is, can do ANYTHING alone, meaning he/she shouldn't get all the blame or credit for anything, but I do believe Americans working together can accomplish a great deal, even if they disagree on some issues, and although I don't agree with all of his political views (which means I do agree with some), it's obvious Obama has a gift for inspiring people to get involved, to care, to have hope, and to draw together in a way I haven't seen since 9/11.

    I do worry that people expect him to do everything that THEY want, and to do it all by himself - that's a pretty weighty load to carry. We'll just have to wait and see what the next few months and years bring.

    But for today, at least, I'll try to tuck my cynicism in a drawer and drape myself in patriotism - it really is a great system. Maybe people will believe in it again. I know I do.

Revenge of the Cedars

    People around here badmouth the cedar trees (technically a type of juniper, but we call them cedar - don't ask me why, because I don't know!) They are looked down on because they spread fast and drink up all the water. They gang up on oak trees and anything else that has roots and leaves. Don't get me wrong...I actually have a soft spot for cedars. The smell reminds me of going to my grandparent's cabin near Lake Medina near San Antonio when I was little, and the old trees with thick trunks are beautiful (to me, anyway.)

    But right now I don't like them so much. There is so much cedar pollen in the air, thanks to the otherwise perfect weather (sunshine, mid-70's, breezy) that I'm wishing someone would take some steel wool to my eyes and SCRATCH!! I'm taking antihistamine every way I can - orally, nasally, and ...eye-fully? With eye drops...you know what I mean.

    Maybe they're just trying to get revenge for all the trash talk and weeding out of their kind that goes on, but, come on! they're not doing their cause any good. Here are a couple of pictures I found of cedar pollen explosions - I never have my camera when I see one myself. The first one is in Arizona (by digital_house - I believe in giving credit) and the second one is in New Jersey (by Benny Bishop). I never realized other people were suffering just like we are. It doesn't make me feel any better.

 

    While I'm on the subject of revenge, here's a cartoon I cut out of this week's Parade magazine that really made me laugh...

Rays of Sunshine

    The deep voice coming up out of the stairwell startled me this morning - Tom and Kendall were still asleep. No one else was home. Who could it be? But before I even had a chance to throw a butcher knife or something, Daniel's head (smiling face), then shoulders, then the rest of him appeared coming up the stairs.

    Last night, one of his high school friends had picked him up from UT - a group of them had gotten together for dinner. But none of them was headed back into Austin until this evening, so they dropped him off at home late last night (he said he crept in quietly so Dad didn't come out with a shotgun or something, thinking he was a prowler!)  I had him until about 6pm today and it was really, really nice, especially after yesterday, a day full of gray clouds, gray thoughts and teenage drama. Blah! He really did feel like a ray of sunshine. Granted, today was a sunny day anyway, but he still made it even brighter.

    Which was a good thing, because Charly, our old yellow lab, wouldn't eat this morning. He's been eating less and less, but this morning he didn't even come when I called, just stayed curled up in a warm spot in the woods. I even took his pan to him, but he still wasn't interested, so I just rubbed his belly and his ears and talked baby talk to him.

    Right before sunset I headed off for a walk. I didn't expect him to come, but he did...very enthusiastically, even. But he stopped before we got to the curve and just waited, standing in the middle of the road, for me, Max, and Frankie to return.

    I'm worried about him, but I realize he'll be thirteen next month - pretty old for a lab. I've got to accept the fact that we aren't going to have him forever. The great thing is I'll always have the memories of him, like of this afternoon...walking along the caliche road with him, Max, and Frankie...no leashes, just friends walking together...a glorious sunset sending colorful streaks through the sky above us.

Variegated Sky, Variegated Day, Variegated Thoughts, and Dancing

    The day started with promise, then suddenly it was 5:45 in the evening...the day was almost gone and I hadn't accomplished half of what I had hoped. And I'd barely even been out of the house! Kendall and Tom were both gone, but I needed a break from work...from the computer. I needed some exercise...to breathe some fresh air, and soak up some of what little sunlight remained.

    I guess the dogs and Frankie had already gone for a walk, maybe with Tom earlier when I was busy writing.  At any rate, for whatever reason, they were very unenthusiastic about a walk. Max went most of the way to the curve with me, but Charly and Frankie wimped out early on. The sky above was full of clouds, a variegated gray, reminding me of the spools of thread Mam-ma used to crochet with (and pull my loose primary teeth with)...spools and spools of variegated colors. My thoughts were just as variegated...drifting to the past and my childhood, to memories of her, to our decision to move here, to the speed of the days we've traveled since then, including this one...

    Back at the house, Bruce Springsteen was singing "I'm Going Down" to me through the livingroom speakers. I realized I was home alone, with an inviting wide empty wooden floor, so I just danced. All by myself. It was great.

    Now, back to work...

There are shortcuts to happiness and dancing is one of them.
Vicki Baum

There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a bit of good.
Edwin Denby

Facing the Weekend

    It's another Friday night, another wide-open weekend ahead of me. Tonight there's a cribbage game in the kitchen, a fire in the woodburning stove, and music in the air. I'll probably watch a movie later. But I have so much I need to do, and want to do, by Sunday evening! I know in a blink the weekend will be gone, like all the others, with most of those things still undone...  

    First, there's the house to clean - my class starts Wednesday, so I'm determined to get this place cleaned up before I get going again on my screenplay. It will be too easy to ignore after that. Then I brought some "work" work home, which is good. I also need to fit a trip to the grocery store in there. After that, my mind goes blank, which is why I keep lists. And lists. And lists. I have them all scattered in one area of the kitchen counter, next to the calendar. My lists + my calendar = my brain.

    Tom makes fun of me. Hence, this latest list I found amid my others this week...

    I wished this morning that I had my camera on my morning walk with the critters (easier to say than "the dogs and the bird").  Max and Charly had zagged off the road into the woods, following a narrow deer trail up the hill beside the road. And so Frankie zagged onto the trail right after them, trotting along behind Charly. Just one of the boys.

    He's part of the family routine now. If he's not in the front yard when it's time to walk, I call him (he knows his name) and he comes swooping and skittering up the hill to join us. Something so oddly special, yet now just part of the routine. Isn't it funny how quickly we can start taking things for granted? (The world will never starve from want of wonders, but only from want of wonder. ~ G.K. Chesterton)

    He also likes to slip into the house before we can shut the door. Charly and Max just stare in with confused expressions on their faces, like "What the heck is going on...?" while Frankie trots around like a nosy neighbor, investigating and inspecting, stretching his neck up to see what books are on the bookshelf, admiring the kids' pictures on the side table, and trying to explore the bedroom before I decide his visit is over and shoo him back out the door.

Transitions

    This is the year that the majority of my high school classmates and I cross over into our second half century of life. Some have slipped there quietly, others have faced it head-on with weekends in places like Vegas or the Caribbean or on a cruise ship. One guy, Roy, is in Colorado as we speak, and...well...he says it best himself on Facebook..."[I] just finished a sleigh ride and a cowboy dinner after enjoying a walk down a snowy mountain in snow shoes...because tomorrow I start my second 50 years." Sounds like a well-planned birthday celebration.

    Tom turned 50 almost two years ago. What he wanted was to have his mom and dad and all 8 of his brothers come here to help him celebrate, and so that's what we did. It was great! But a party like that is a once in a lifetime thing - I don't want anything like that for my birthday. I don't want to have to work that hard for myself!

    I "cross over" in just three months, and I can't decide how I want to mark it! For my 30th, Tom arranged for me to have a day off from work - boy, that was a surprise! Then he took me to a spa (massage, manicure, etc.), shopping for a new dress, and then dinner at the Magic Island restaurant in Houston. On top of that, we had a party, because I wasn't sure if he was going to do anything, and I wanted to make sure I celebrated! (I believe in that old saying, "Instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers, why not gather your own bouquet?")

    We didn't do anything big or spectacular for my 40th because Tom was scoutmaster then. Scouts took up most of his (our) free time. We had a big Boy Scout cook-out on the only free weekend around my birthday, but that was okay. That's what you do for your kids!

    But I've had some wonderful birthdays on non-milestone years. My first one after we moved to Lago Vista we drove with the kids out to Enchanted Rock (one of my to-do wishes) and then to Fredericksburg. The wildflowers (bluebonnets, especially) were phenomenal that year. Another year just Tom and I drove out that way for the day.

    I spent a weekend at a bed-and-breakfast in Salado (little historical town near here) one year with a bunch of my girlfriends. Another time Tom bought me a Bruce Springsteen concert DVD. He had stayed home from work hoping to take another wildflower drive, but since it was a rainy day, we just stayed home and watched it on the big screen. It was just like being on the front row, live! I could almost feel Brucie's sweat drops landing on me!

    Just last year Tom made another one of my wishes come true. We took a ride on the Hill Country Flyer- an old vintage train that runs through the hill country from Cedar Park to other small towns (this time Burnet) and back, with a break to have lunch and explore some of the shops in Burnet. We had our own private compartment and it was a beautiful day.

    This year the funds are low, now that the Recession has landed. It would be fun to do something big and spectacular for my 50th - Vegas, New York City, etc.- but not very smart right now. I think I'll be fine with another trip through the hill country, maybe this time following the nearby winery trail that a couple of friends have told me about. 

    I'll also start saving up for a Big Birthday Bash with all my high school friends this summer in Galveston. We're hoping to meet there one weekend so we can all just celebrate 50 together. I think THAT will be a birthday celebration to remember!

    

Time for Some Positive Thinkin'

     It's he-ere...the Recession has officially landed in our front yard.

    Tom delivered the grim news when he got home last night: his company is freezing wages, cutting back executive salaries, and (as in Tom's case) having employees take two weeks off without pay. But, it could be worse...at least he didn't get laid off (like a friend of ours) and the company didn't completely shut its doors.

    It makes me even more grateful for my new job. What a literal Godsend! He does provide, doesn't he?

    I'm not turning a blind eye to the seriousness of the situation. After all, I'm the one that pays the bills every month. We're definitely going to have to "tighten our belts" a LOT, just like we did when I first quit work after Kendall was born. We haven't been nearly as frugal as we could have been the last few years (ask our son, Tommy, aka Mr. Frugal.) I've just decided to be a Positive Thinker.

    As Norman Vincent Peale said, "A positive thinker does not refuse to recognize the negative, [but] refuses to dwell on it. Positive thinking is a form of thought which habitually looks for the best results from the worst conditions."

    Wish me luck (and please say some prayers!)

Unforgiven

    I know, I know...I deserved it. You looked the other way during that first...and second...batch of cyclops cookies, and when I had Rudy's BBQ brisket, turkey, AND sausage at the church Christmas party. You even ignored the fact that I skimped on some of my workouts.

   I took your generosity for granted. I got greedy. I tasted all of Mary Kay's cookies and even ate a couple of Reese's peanut butter trees. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when I stepped on you and discovered the five extra pounds. After all, you had given me lots and LOTS of chances. I knew better. You were more than patient with me...more than I deserved, that's for sure.

    But...COME ON!! It's been almost TWO WEEKS now!! I've been so good...focusing on eating healthy again...sticking to lots of veggies...watching my portion sizes...working out SIX days a week, not just five. At Darla's party, I just had a small slice of that yummy carrot cake and only two slices of the brisket, even though I think it was probably the best that Tom's ever smoked!

    You'd think that would count for something! But no...the five pounds are still there, sticking like the cream cheese icing on that carrot cake. What more do you want from me??

    Will you EVER forgive me?

Watching the Minutes Tick Away...or...Finding "Shallue Worldwide Ltd."

    I do believe in karma, or whatever you want to call it when things come back to bite you in the butt.

    For instance, I just planned to take a few minutes after Kendall and I came home from shopping and I finished my fruit salad, and before I "moved the laundry around" some more and cleaned off my desk, balanced my checkbook, etc...just a few minutes, mind you, to glance at Facebook and see what my friends had been up to. Just a glance. Just a few minutes.

    That was almost an hour ago. I think.

    Where does karma fit in to this scenario? Well, I have vivid memories of nagging the backs of my kids' heads (faces glued to the computer screen) about wasting so much time on Facebook - didn't they have homework? Didn't Daniel need to feed the dogs? Had Kendall unloaded the dishwasher yet? What about their laundry that was piled up and falling off of their dressers...shouldn't they be putting that away instead of WASTING time on Facebook?

    I was asking for it, that's for sure.

    But I never realized back then how much FUN Facebook could be! For instance, I've been glancing over all the groups that my 'friends' have joined recently - there's one for my old high school, my old junior high, my town. There are religious ones, philosophical ones, political ones...it was fun looking at them, finding the ones I wanted to join, seeing what my friends had joined. Kind of like high school.

    The biggest surprise was seeing that my sister-in-law had joined one sporting an image of Homer Simpson lifting a beer mug with "To Alcohol" screaming across the top of the logo. TOTALLY not Cathy! I'm PRETTY sure Cathy doesn't even drink - maybe a glass of wine here and there - so it really caught me off guard! Until I noticed the name of the group..."You'd probably have better luck with a beer...Shallue Worldwide Ltd. (a global group)"

    Of course, I had to join, too, even though I don't drink beer anymore. There were only 13 members...3 of them were my own kids! But another 3 were from Australia so it qualifies as a global group (well, I'm guessing about one because he didn't look familiar, but then, I haven't been to Wisconsin where the main concentration of Shallue's still lives in a long, long time.)

    Apparently back in the 1850's, when the Shallue's decided it was time to get the heck out of Ireland, two of the brothers got on the wrong boat and went to Australia. At least, that's how the story has been passed down on this continent. I just sent messages to all of them, requesting their 'friendship'...we'll see if they accept me, and if they do, I'll see if their version of the story matches ours.

    On Facebook, anyone can be a Shallue, though. The group is open to everyone!

    I wonder how many Shallue's there are in Australia now. I'm not sure how many are here in the states, but one thing is for sure - if they're a Shallue, we're related...well, me by marriage, but you know what I mean. There are way more than thirteen, I know that for sure. Heck, in the summer of 2007 I had close to 40 of them living in my house for a few days - all descended from Tom's parents - to help celebrate Tom's 50th birthday and our 25th wedding anniversary. (The first photo is of Tom's parents and all the boys. The next one is ALL of us - parents, brothers, wives, kids - at least those who attended. Some of the wives and kids couldn't come. Both photos courtesy of the oldest brother, Kenny, and his daughter, Carol.)

 

Slumdog Millionaire

    It was a beautiful day, and I had a million other things I needed to do, but I knew I wouldn't get another chance anytime soon...so I tossed all responsibility aside and went to the movies. I expected to go alone - Tom doesn't do movie theaters, all my friends were busy, and Kendall and Daniel weren't enthusiastic about this one. But I showed them the trailer and they changed their mind.

    Since I still have those million things to do, I don't have much time for this, but I wanted to sing some praises for this movie. It has most of the qualities I love - it's original...it's entertaining...it has real characters that I cared about...flawed characters that you still like, that redeem themselves in some way...it opens a window to a world and culture I knew nothing about...it had moments that broke my heart (not that I love to have my heart broken, but I do want to have strong emotions - I want to care)...ah, I'd write more, but it would be giving the movie away. Suffice it to say, I really, really liked this movie. And judging from the applause at the end of it, in a full theater that normally shows limited run/artsy movies, everyone else liked it, too.

    Here's the trailer in case, like many,  you haven't even heard of it...

Ah, Saturdays...

Saturdays are for getting eight hours of sleep...making muffins...drinking coffee on the back deck, visiting with Max, Charly, and Frankie while they eat breakfast...running with Rick Steves through the streets of Athens (me on the treadmill, him on TV)...cooling down to Three Doors Down...moving the laundry around...drinking more coffee while paying bills, blogging, checking email, and chatting on Facebook, listening to James Brown (what a wake-up call for a Saturday morning!) and now U2...and now REM (it's on shuffle now)...smoking a brisket...making fruit salad...heading off to celebrate a friend's 50th birthday...it's a very nice day, indeed...

Just One of the Boys

Tom and company...Max (in the shade), Charly, Frankie, Tom...Charly, Frankie, Max

 

A Prayer for a Son...AND a Mom...in a World at War

    Tommy was barely two weeks old when the most awful wave of out-of-control mother's anxiety/premonition overwhelmed me, and I burst into tears. I know it was just the combination of overactive hormones on an overactive imagination, (think gasoline on a fire), but my thoughts flew far into the future, to a world at war and my baby son all grown up and heading off to fight.

     It didn't matter that our country was at peace at the time. Wars come and go in cycles, and I knew chances were pretty good that we'd be at war about the time he was of the age to go fight, and the thought of losing the precious gift I'd just been given was more than I could bear.

    As he grew, that fear faded as another battle consumed my worry reserves, along with my time and energy: Tommy developed asthma. I'd watch, feeling helpless, as he struggled just to breathe. There were too many doctor appointments, medicine schedules, and insurance hassles, too many nights sleeping in two-hour snatches in between his nebulizer treatments (and Daniel's and Kendall's, often all three at once), too many sleepless days after my night shift, to worry about any future wars. Lord, just let them live through their childhoods.

    Fast forward to Tommy's junior year of high school and decisions about college. He really wanted to go to an academy (as in West Point or the Coast Guard Academy), but learned from friends with asthma,  who had already tried, not to bother. He wouldn't pass the physical. Tommy's asthma was well under control by then - he was very athletic and rarely missed any time from school - but he depended on preventive medicine to keep him that way. Because of that, the Army (Marines, Navy, Air Force, Coast Guard, and Merchant Marines) wouldn't let him in.

    He was really bummed about it. I patted his back sympathetically, but (and I feel guilty even admitting this) I silently said a prayer of thanks. I never dreamed in those agonizing, scary, sleepless days and nights of his asthma attacks that they were an answer to a prayer I'd uttered shortly after his birth, during a tearful, hormone-induced premonition.

    The reason I feel guilty admitting my gratitude is because so many of my friends' sons, and some of Tommy's friends, have spent time in Iraq and Afghanistan. 

    And now it's even closer to my heart. Just this week, my dear friend Ann's son Heath arrived in Afghanistan. I can't pretend to know how it feels, but I'm pretty sure it's probably ten times worse than that wave of pain I felt so many years ago. Please join me in praying for Heath and Ann and all of the other mothers and sons going through the same thing right now.

Heath and Ann 1981

 

Ann with Heath and three of her other four kids (!) this past September (photos from her blog)

 

Lucky Girl

"I love you."
"I love you more."

Is this a competition or something?

"Why do you always say that? What makes you think you love me more than I love you?"

"Because no one could ever love anyone more than I love you."

Back to Tokyo (Steakhouse, that is)

    Ah, Veggie Heaven with extra shrimp! Pass on the sake, though - I prefer red wine (specifically a merlot from Chile last night), although I'm sure there's a wine connoisseur out there somewhere shuddering about that. 

    I've been to Tokyo Steakhouse twice in my life now - the first time a few years ago for my birthday with Darla and Leslie, and then last night for Darla's birthday. I think it could easily become my favorite.  The food is delicious AND good for me - at least I like to think so.  And it's FUN - from catching the shrimp in your mouth, porpoise-style, that the cook pops at you with his spatula (I was two for two) to the stacked onion "steam engine" he creates. And then the challenge of eating with chopsticks - I was so proud of myself...I was able to eat everything with my chopsticks (except the onion soup, of course.)

Darla and Maddie, and,next, the onion "choo-choo"...

    

What do Fishnet Stockings, Purple Rooms, and Donny Osmond Posters Have in Common?

I started third-grade as a tomboy - crazy about boys, mind you, but pretty oblivious to fashion until Darla and Candy walked into the classroom wearing fishnet stockings.  In 1967 you couldn't get any cooler than fishnet stockings. 

That's my first memory of Darla, but she moves in and out of other memories over the next forty years. For instance, I tasted my first Dorito at a party at her house (that was when she was in love with Donny Osmond and everything in her room was purple, his favorite color.)

But ironically, although we had mutual friends and ran in some of the same circles, we somehow missed each other all through high school. We didn't become close friends until we worked together on our ten-year high school reunion. We clicked and have stuck like glue ever since.  Tom and I even followed her to the Austin area. (I wonder if I would have had the guts to move here if she hadn't done it first?)        

So there you have it...Darla introduced me to fishnet stockings, Doritos, and the Austin area. And today she even stepped across that #50 line ahead of me. What a great friend! 

Happy 50th birthday, dear Darla! 

 

Here we are together on Senior Kid Day '77 (in back, Randy, Mark, Larry, Teason, Curtis, Billy, Rusty; in front, me, Wesley, Tamara, Darla, and Brenda)

 

Here we are together last year in her back yard when she graciously hosted my birthday party - she hosted three or four get-togethers last year! (Donna, Leslie, Larry, Todd, Darla, me, Ann.) 

 

 

And here we are tonight at Tokyo Steakhouse - Leslie, Darla, me, Madison (thanks for taking the photo, Clive!)

Joining Some Friendly Faces...

          Leslie: "Why aren't you on Facebook?"
          me:     "Huh? Are YOU on Facebook?"
          Leslie: "Yeah. EVERYONE is! Darla, Ann, both Ginas..."     

    It turns out my friends have been partying without me...

    Now, it just so happens I had been thinking about getting on Facebook for a couple of weeks. My friend Kim had sent in invitation asking me to join so I could see her pictures and know what was going on with her now that she's moved farther away and we never see each other.
    I first said no...no way! It's tough enough chiseling out time for this blog! I've caught glimpses of my kids' Facebook pages (before they're minimized!) and they looked pretty intricate, as in complicated. Like work. Like time spent 'fixing' it up. Time I should use working on all the things I put off doing while I blog (see "Procrastination").
    On top of all of that, I remember when Tommy first joined Facebook  - it was just for college kids. He complained when it was opened up to high schoolers, and now Kendall is always complaining about the "old" people trying to act like kids on Facebook. 
    But then I kept thinking about it and thought, well, why not? I realized it would be about the only way to stay in touch with Kim, and who says it's just for 'kids' anymore? 

    Unfortunately, that's as far as I had gotten with the decision until I talked to Leslie last night. She inspired me to ignore the still-decorated Christmas tree standing next to the computer and just do it. After all, I had already scratched something important off my to-do list - I finally registered for my class.
    It was easier than I thought it would be - and I already knew a LOT of people! Kim's invitation was there waiting for me, like a housewarming gift. I've had people write on my "wall" and send me messages and I don't feel like such a wallflower anymore. I still haven't figured it all out or completed all of my "favorites" lists, but all in due time...just like the Christmas tree and decorations... 

A Priority Problem

    I've procrastinated registering for the spring semester, and this is why: the advanced screenwriting class (which I should take so these first few pages don't just turn into dust, untouched and neglected) is an actual physical class, on a campus with traffic issues, parking issues, desks, as well as a teacher and classmates with faces.

    Well, that in itself isn't a problem. Despite the lack of flexibility and extra time required for traveling, I like the feel of a classroom...the camaraderie, the discipline, carrying my books and taking notes. I know. I'm weird.

    The problem is the class meets one night a week, and that night is Wednesday.

    Wednesdays = "Lost"

    And therein lies my dilemma. It's really pretty sad, isn't it? No WONDER I haven't had anything published in a while.

    Of course, now that I've confessed, I recognize that the scales aren't really evenly balanced - this isn't a decision crisis after all. Watching all the "Lost" episodes isn't on my list of personal goals, but finishing this screenplay is, so NATCH!...for the next few months, Wednesdays = screenplay class, not "Lost."

    (They do run the episodes online, don't they?)

Where There's Smoke, There's Fire...Right?

    My heart raced when I saw the smoke billowing just off the back deck. Fire? Here in the hollow, in the middle of a drought, a fire quickly becomes a raging monster, destroying everything in its path, which is mostly cedar, and cedar EXPLODES in a fire, especially DRY cedar like we have now, and our house is surrounded by cedar...

    But before I could finish these thoughts, I realized that what I saw wasn't really smoke, but cedar pollen. This time of year the cedar trees (technically juniper) explode even without fire. Well, the pollen pods explode, anyway. Gazing out over the tree tops, suddenly a POOF of smoke billows up, and you worry for a second (like I did) because it looks exactly like fire smoke, but it's gone as quickly as it came. And then you start sneezing.

    My sneezing actually didn't start until I was in Walmart, but continued all the way through HEB, and plagued me until I was back home and could take double hits from my new antihistamine nosespray (bless Dr. Howland, our allergist, for recommending it!) 

    Dang. It's already Cedar Fever season in Austin again.            

Day 2 - Rambling

    How quickly resolutions can dissolve once the real world - like work - makes its appearance. I won't go through a boring list of what I did or didn't get done today. Let's just say it's a good thing I resolved to be flexible and not stress about it...too much, anyway. Work is both a necessity and a blessing, so I'm not about to whine or complain about it...

    Kendall was watching "Schindler's List" when I got home, and I sat and watched a little of it with her. It illustrates both ends of the human spectrum - that we're capable of so much evil AND so much good. I love the end of it, when the actual people whose lives Schindler saved honor his memory by placing stones on his grave - such a great image of the impact his actions had on so many lives.   

    Good news, though...if you're feeling depressed because you've already broken your New Year's Resolutions, eat a banana! Seriously! Among other benefits, they are supposed to help you think happier thoughts, according to Dr. Mehmet Oz of Real Age. Read about the happy banana here.

    Ah, tomorrow is Saturday...I have a long to-do list which includes a trip to the grocery store, packing up the Christmas colors, and registering for the spring semester. And Kendall wants to get started on the FAFSA (Free Application for Federal Student Aid) - UGH! It's something I tend to put at the top of my procrastination list, despite its importance, so I'm glad she's full of zeal about it. I just wish she could do it by herself!

    

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.