Long Hollow

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...

Watch CBS Videos Online

    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...)