Roanoke Regional Writers Conference, Part II

Today was the writers conference. It lasted from 9 a.m. to 5:30 p.m.; I left at 4:15 p.m. I was (and am) very tired.

I greeted a lot of people I knew but hadn't seen in a long time. I was pleased about that. I saw again two fellow bloggers, Becky and Ms.E. Becky introduced me to a blogger at Smith Mountain Lake but unfortunately I didn't write down either the name of the person or the blog.

I knew five of the presenters - K.R., D.S., K.A., S.C., G.C. I also saw L. Adkins, who has published several books about hiking the Appalachian Trail. I interviewed him for an article about two years ago. He could have been a presenter himself.

A few other people I hadn't seen in a while were G.J., who is another freelance newspaper writer, and B.C. Also E.G., whom I knew from college.

A new person I met was Keith, who is a former editor of Omni magazine. Keith gave the lecture on blogging, which I unfortunately did not attend. At lunch he was very kind to my friend G.J., who is in her 60s and a little lacking in knowledgeable about things like blogs. She is, however, always willing to learn. I admire her for that.

I estimated the crowd at less than 100 but could be wrong. They had four classrooms going so I never saw everyone all together except for in the hallway, coming and going.

I haven't been to many writer's conferences lately so I don't have much to compare. The last one I attended was the Blue Ridge Writer's Conference at Roanoke College in about 1992. I have attended the Hollins Literary Festival since then, several times over, but since they don't call it a conference I don't think it counts.

Anyway, the good things about today's conference:

Networking

Seeing old friends and making new acquaintances

Hearing a few good talks. Sharon McCrumb's talk, which was the very last thing I attended, was worth the admission price all by itself, even if she did have a head cold.

A renewed determination to do something else with my work. In my spare time. Whenever that is.


The bad things:

There was a lot of noise bleed over from room to room; it was very distracting.

The lectures were only offered one time, so if there were two you wanted to go to at the same time, you were out of luck and had no chance to make it up.

The lectures were very much "old school" publishing. Aside from the blogging lecture, these talks were about publishing as it has been. I would have liked to have seen something about marketing yourself and your work and something about using the Internet to your advantage. I also would have liked to have seen something about research on the Internet, or maybe even "maximizing your Blackberry." Hearing about John Garner's book On Becoming a Novelist is certainly worthwhile, but then so is knowing how to find you what you want in a database.

And everyone takes for granted that people know how to format a manuscript. They talk about doing all the right things for a submission and neglect the very fine details - double space, 1" margins all the way around, use good white clean crisp paper, boring fonts (Times Roman or Courier or Arial, generally) and only one side of the paper. The old pros do this in their sleep, but I have seen manuscripts using both sides of the paper, single spaced, etc., etc. It's not that this is a hard thing; people just don't seem to know, and I suppose the lecturers just forget to mention it.

Lunch consisted of a wheat bread sandwich with cheese, lettuce, cucumber and sprouts. One of my lunch mates complained a lot about the sprouts. I didn't mind them but it was a lot of carbs.

I did not learn anything I didn't already know, but then I have been freelancing a long time. I am sure for many people much of the information was new.

All in all not a bad day, but it certainly made me tired!

Tax Cuts

I truly wonder what world the politicians live in.

It isn't one recognizable to any of my friends.

When I ask them, "Will this tax rebate help you?" the answer is a resounding no.

Offering a tax rebate implies that paying taxes are the reason we're in a recession.

It is not the reason.

This article (a version was in The Roanoke Times today; this one is from MSNBC) notes that:

Rising food and fuel prices, falling interest rates and screeching declines in
worldwide stock markets have ... thousands of other retirees paring spending to
levels some haven't seen in decades, forgoing dinners out, cutting back on
groceries and canceling plans to visit grandchildren.

It isn't just retirees who are driving less, eating out less, and staying in more. It's practically everyone who makes less than $100,000 a year. And that is most people I know.

It is the economy, stupid. And the economy is in distress because of the focus on "letting the market rule," i.e., capitalism, and because of deregulation. Because we focus on businesses and money, not people.

It is uncapped rising costs of electricity, gasoline, milk, bread, hamburger, etc. that is the problem, combined with no increase in wages for the majority of people. And those wages that are adjusted are not keeping up with the rate of the rising costs.

It is the lack of unity among the workers and the inability of people to do anything more than think for themselves because they are so scared that they will lose what little bit they have.

When you start messing with the basics, you hurt people. People are hurting.

Our elected rulers are over their heads, every last one of them, from the federal government down. They are so out of touch with the America I live in, anyway, that they may as well live on Mars.

Locally, the General Assembly had a fracas and Salem's lead elected ruler made this comment:

Democrats "are leading us to unionization, strikes of public employees, abolishment of the right-to-work law and, ultimately, the demise of Virginia as one of the best states in the union in which to do business."

Having a great state "in which to do business" is all well and good, but frankly I would rather live in a great state - and a great nation - that is a good place for people to live.

Thursday Thirteen

The 13 things I want to do before I am 50:

1. Hike to McAfee's Knob. This isn't as easy as it sounds; I am out of shape in spite of my hour-long exercise in the morning. Plus I have a problem with my balance and can get motion sickness when I am in high places, like atop mountains. And mountains make my ears hurt. Another problem is I don't have anyone to walk with me and I will not go alone.

2. Take a two or three week vacation and drive to California and back. I did this with my parents when I was 12. My husband has never seen the Grand Canyon and I would like for us to make this trip one day.

3. Visit Canada. Just because I've never been. That requires a passport now, doesn't it?

4. Write (and hopefully publish) a novel. This means applying bottom to seat and getting to work.

5. Write (and hopefully publish) a nonfiction book. See #4.

6. Self-publish a book of poetry. I have poems and could probably do this now, except I am afraid to.

7. Create a photo book about my county.

8. Learn how to eat properly.

9. Lose weight and be the healthiest I've ever been. I'd like to do that *this* year.

10. Build an addition on to the house. We could use just one more room. Maybe a nice sun room where I could put the treadmill and the exercise bike and get them out of the living room.

11. Buy a hybrid car. This one may have to wait longer but I think it will depend on what happens with the gas prices and if the government ever smartens up and offers financial incentives for people to really "go green." Right now I can't afford a new car. I suppose if I write and sell those books...

12. Move my office from home to ... someplace else. Working from home is not a bad thing, and I don't want to work for someone else, but I think an office away from home has the potential to make me more productive in some ways. Plus I wouldn't have a refrigerator there. Or washing machines. Or any of the other million things that can distract me while I work from home. Of course, I have to be making enough money to warrant paying rent someplace.

13. Write my 2,000th blog entry. Which may or may not be a Thursday Thirteen.

Roanoke Writer's Conference

There is a writer's conference this Saturday at the Jefferson Center.

I am going. Will I see any of my fellow bloggers there?

It actually begins Friday night with a speech by Sharon McCrumb, but I do not plan to attend that at present.

Saturday is when the lectures and classes and things are happening.

The schedule has a line up of local writers besides Sharon McCrumb - Dan Smith, Kurt Rheinheimer, Ralph Barrier, Sarah Cox and others. Many are affiliated with the Blue Ridge Business Journal, I note.

The classes are:

The Short Essay, Writing Local Histories, Blogging, Short Fiction, Writing for the Theater, What Magazine Editors Want, Using Children’s Stories to Make Your Point, Writing What You Know, The Radio Essay, Writing About Country People, [as opposed to what? People are people... aren't they? I'm just sayin'... this will probably be one of the classes I attend].

Also, Writing About Your Family, Freelance Writing in This Region, The Memoir, Writing Persuasively and Getting Feedback, Emphasizing Your Point with Stories, Writing for Children, Finding Stories in Your Back Yard, Writing About Sports and Selling It,How a Book Store Works, Tell it Slant; Using Historical Events in Fictional Works, The Basics of Poetry, Writing Opinion, and Using the Internet for Research.

I am a little sorry to see that none of the courses will be repeated. If you miss it the first go-round, you're out of luck. Obviously you can't be everywhere at once.

I am a excited about going and I am hoping to see some people I haven't in a while. I also hope to meet new people. Who knows, maybe I will make a good connection for my freelancing. Or renew a connection I've lost or forgotten.

If you're going and want to meet up or at least say hello in the hallway, drop me a note. I'd sure like to shake your hand.

Wishes

Some days when I am having trouble thinking, I take a break by playing Mahjong at shockwave.com. I find the rhythm of seeking out the matching tiles soothing enough to give my mind a chance to refocus.

When I return to my work, I usually resolve whatever the problem was, whether that was a lead to a story, some way to end it, or whether or not it needed a sidebar.

The game has a fortune aspect to it. When you open it up, it gives you a little rhyme.

This is what it said to me on December 30, 2007:


Daily Fortune

If you would use the talent
Fate has given you to write
You'd win success in prose or verse
in serious themes or light.

A long delayed package of value will shortly come to you.

You'll get your wish, sure.

I kept it because it was so close to the end of the year and I was doing much soul-searching about my life and particularly my writing career. And because I knew at some point I would write this particular blog entry.

Today it says:

Appearances to you seem good
and fortune more than kind
but you could win both wealth and fame
if you were not so blind.

You will receive unjust treatment from a near relative.

You may get your wish later on.

I do not pay particular attention to things like this. It is like reading your horoscope - it is what it is and it's what you make of it. But I sometimes fear such ditties can become subconscious self-fulfilling prophesies.

Take today's comment about the relative thing. I have been busy and haven't even thought about my relatives, aside from my husband. But I read that and thought, I should call my brother.

And of course if I were to do so, which I am not, I could end up feeling slighted or hurt because he tends to have that effect on me.

So I would have made that come true.

The last line always has something about a wish. You might get it, you won't get it, you will get it.

The trouble is, I never know what it is I have wished for. There are days when I look at those lines and I think, what DO I wish for?

Apparently the answer is nothing concrete. I do not wish for specifics. Instead I have vague notions of things I'd like to correct.

So I am wondering, what is it people wish for? What do you wish for? Are your wishes specific? Do they ever come true?

If I make a wish, can I make it come true?

Books: The Schwarzbein Principle

The Schwarzbein Principle
By Diana Schwarzbein, MD & Nancy Deville
Copyright 1999
350 pages

I read this book on a recommendation from Colleen at Loose Leaf Notes in one of my comments and on a recommendation from a non-blogging friend.

I received a gift certificate to Barnes & Noble for Christmas and used it to buy this book and a follow-up to it called The Program. I have not yet read that book.

This book makes a lot of sense, more than most I have read, and I actually understood it. I generally cannot comprehend diet books - some brain defect or something has them leaving me going huh? every time I read one.

But I understood this one. The diet involved is very similar to Atkins ... but not. The focus is on fewer carbs and more protein. Women should have 60 grams of protein, which I thought was a lot.

I don't eat a lot of meat so I suspect this is part of my problem. I went on a low-fat diet this summer at the behest of my doctor and gained 10 pounds. It was like an all-carb diet. The weight gain halted when I stopped dieting and just started eating whatever I wanted, but now I need to lose that weight plus the rest I was trying to lose to begin with.

I will continue to read The Program and in the meantime I will make changes to my diet and see what happens. I am pretty sure if I'd just stop drinking soda it would make a difference, and many days I don't drink soda, but some days I drink as a many as three. Those are not often, though, and generally indicative of a *really* bad day. And they're caffeine free sodas, at that. Just not sugar free.

I have already recommended this book to several people. Even if I don't follow the diet, and I hope to, this is a good book to read if you're interested in your health.

4.5 stars

In the Spotlight

I thought I'd mention some of the bloggers I enjoy reading.

Check them out!

Ms. Eleneaous has returned after nearly a month's absence. Today she writes about her experience with a new computer that only had a two-month life span. A few days ago she had a brilliant entry about freelance writing.

Becky at Peevish Pen writes often about writing, poetry, farm life, etc. She and Ms. E. are two of four bloggers I have met in person.

The other two are Tom at Creativity blog, who also recently started posting again, and Fleitz at the Roanoke Firefighters blog. Tom writes about life, spirituality and takes good pictures and poetry; Firefleitz writes about the fire department. I met Tom at a council meeting; he may not even remember. I met Firefleitz when I picked up a copy of his book, Firefighting in Roanoke, as a present for my husband. He probably doesn't remember that either.

Jeff at Jefferson Street Realist posts about life in Roanoke. Today it looks like he's burning up the airwaves (blogwaves?) with words about music.

When I started seeking out the work of other area bloggers, one of the first I found was Colleen's wit and poetry over at Loose Leaf Notes. She has such enthusiasm about life that I always leave her site with a smile on my face.

Some newcomers to my must-read list (well, in the last six months or so, so they're not that new) are June at Spatter, and Beth at Blue Ridge Blue Collar Girl.

June, as best I can tell, lives in both Floyd County and in Florida. She writes great entries about a myriad of things - check our her January 19 entry about Huckabee for intriguing thoughts on that political candidate. She also does something she calls a Friday Fact. They are always interesting reading. Beth has been absent for a while but her January 14 entry explains that she is in the process of moving/buying/selling, etc., and all that entails.

If I had an award thingy I would offer it to each of these bloggers, but I don't. I hope you enjoy them all as much as I.

The others on my list on the right are also worthy of a mention - unfortunately, I've run out of time! Do take a look at their work sometime.

Face to Face

Yesterday my nephew, who is 16, had major surgery.

The family waited in the waiting room. Parents bit their nails, grandparents paced, the aunt and uncle (that's me and my husband) did our best to fetch waters and ease tension.

About an hour before the boy was expected to awaken in the recovery room, the waiting room suddenly swelled with an influx of teenagers. School was out Friday for teacher's workday and these youth were my nephew's friends.

There were seven of them. The boys were lanky and tall; my nephew's best friend towered over me as he stood there fresh-faced with a curly mop of red hair. Two gum-smacking girls, each looking pretty much like they had recently woke up, trailed along. Another boy had a buzz cut and proclaimed the loss of his long hair the best thing he'd ever had happen as he tousled the hair of the youngest nephew (that one sat with the earphones to his iPod firmly in place).

The young people greeted the family with perfunctory nods, except for the best friend who very politely made conversation and even shook hands. The aunt and uncle, whom they did not know, and the grandparents, were basically ignored after every one nodded and said hello. At least they spoke.

The noise level in the waiting room rose exponentially with their entrance, and it wasn't long before the grandparents retreated to the safety and relative quiet of a restaurant. (They had their cellphones; we could call them when they could see the boy.)

And so it was that I, a woman with no children who does not spend a lot of time around youth in gaggles or large numbers, found out that young people do not talk to one another anymore.

To my amazement, these youth carried on conversations with one another ... through their cellphones. Even though they were sitting together, side by side, thighs practically touching. They were talking and chattering like birds awaiting dinner, and the entire time their thumbs were flying across the face of their phones. Occasionally the verbiage was interrupted by a song as someone received a call.

But they were not speaking to one another in person. Or so it seemed. They were talking into their phones and texting and occasionally slapping their neighbor on the shoulder, but I witnessed no real conversation between any of the young people who were actually standing in the same room.

For the entire hour, this was the way it was. They communicated through devices. Sometimes they took pictures of one another, showed them around, and laughed.

Finally my sister-in-law went back to check on her son, having been told he was awake. Shortly thereafter, his best friend answered a little "tweedle dee dee" noise on his phone. "E. says for us to go to lunch; he can't have us all in there yet because he is not in his room," the boy announced.

My husband and I looked at each other, astonished.

My sister-in-law returned. "E. wants his cell phone," she said, reaching into her bag. "He grabbed mine as soon as I entered the room."

I am pretty sure his cell phone has not left his hands since.

I am wondering what these young people do when they actually have to speak to a person... in person. Do they put their hands in their pockets and have their fingers moving the entire time as they talk, as if using those phones?

Cellphones, it seems, have turned into mini-computers, allowing the young people to communicate in this rather different way. Is this bad? Is this good?

Beats me. I just use my cellphone to call home to see if I need to buy bread. I still use it... as a phone.

The Past in Pictures

If you're interested in history, check out shots of life in the early 1900s at http://flickr.com/photos/library_of_congress/

A friend pointed those out to me. Thanks!

If you look, there are over 170 pages of pictures; be prepared to spend some time looking at them. They are fascinating.

Thursday Thirteen: Snow

1.

2. We have several inches of snow. Not the first snow of this winter, which spans the man-made calendar, and not really the first snow of 2008 (because a squall earlier in the week actually covered the ground), but definitely the nicest snow so far.

3.

4. The best thing about snow is it's like a free day. It means staying home from work (for some folks, anyway), and drinking hot chocolate while you read a book or play with the kids

5.

6. It could mean snuggling with your sugar pie, too, if you're lucky enough to have one!

7.

8. Snow has lots of nutrients in it; it is very good for the grass and fields. My husband says it is like getting a free load of nitrogen for the soil.

9. Snow always makes me feel like the world has changed, and for the better.

10. We could get four or more inches of snow before it ends.

11. I keep looking out the window instead of working; I love to watch snow fall.

12. The snow will help a lot with the drought.

13. My favorite poem about snow is Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening by Robert Frost.

A Good Day for Color

Just a reminder of things to come.

Miscellaneous Media

My husband likes to laugh. He loves Comedy Central and he enjoys watching comedians and funny movies. When we first started dating, he was constantly quoting lines from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I had to watch the movie to see what he was talking about.

These days, he is fascinated with Jeff Dunham. Jeff is a ventriloquist and comic. You can view some of his skits on his website here.

I just wanted to point the ventriloquist out in case someone hasn't seen him. Some of his work is a little irreverent. I like his character Peanut the best. You can find more of his stuff on youtube.com if you care to look.

Moving on.

I have seen two movies in the past two months. While not a record, it is close. We don't get to the theater often. We both have a thing about paying $7.75 for a small soft drink and a bottle of water. We can stay at home and drink out of the tap for free.

Anyway, I saw The Golden Compass in December. I was disappointed in the movie because it could have been so much more. It had the potential to have the scope and depth of Lord of the Rings, but it did not. I think it failed the book. Philip Pullman's vision was not realized. I found the lead character unappealing and I never felt I knew her or her motivations. Others have said otherwise, of course.

Sunday we saw National Treasure: Book of Secrets. I enjoyed this film, probably because I took no expectations into the theater with me. I enjoyed the first movie, too. I love history and I love mystery so these movies work well for me.

For Christmas, I received all but one of the remaining seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer which I was missing. Buffy was a show I enjoyed but until this year I did not see the seasons beyond Season 4. I thought overall the series ended better than Xena: Warrior Princess, which is the only other set of DVDs for which I have the entire show.

After the New Year I ordered the last missing Buffy season, and while I was at it, I ordered the first season of Cagney and Lacey.

If you're seeing a pattern as to the kinds of TV I watch, well, then you know why I don't watch TV much anymore. You rarely see well-produced and written shows these days about strong women who overcome the odds and move forward with their lives. Apparently those women have turned into ... well, I watch so little TV these days I don't even have anything to compare them to.

The only show I make any effort to watch now is Ghost Whisperer and while Melinda is an interesting character she is not in the same league as Buffy, that's for sure. I attempted the new Bionic Woman and it didn't do it for me - she was just a puppet, not a thinking woman.

Other shows that I used to watch include La Femme Nikita, Murphy Brown, and Designing Women. I even liked Charlie's Angels, the (real) Bionic Woman, and Wonder Woman when I was (much) younger.

I am always up to checking out a show, so you if know of something that might fit the "strong woman" bill, let me know. I rather miss knowing that on X night of the week, there will be good TV.

In the meantime, I have this big pile of books... and I will continue to read.

Days Like These

I have in my house stacks of things I have written. Hidden in the closet are journals that I am pretty sure I need to throw away. They are epistles of ire and wrath and sorrow. They will do no one any good if they are read.

Yet I cannot bring myself to toss them without looking at them, in case there is some jewel of a line stuck in amongst the tirades. And since I haven't that kind of time, they don't get tossed.

I thought today to post a poem, so I looked through my "poetry" folder on my computer. Is this all there is? I wondered as I glanced at the files. It is all that is on the computer, anyway. But there is a file labeled "poetry" full of words - words I know I will never publish and which will never see the light of day unless I look at them - in the filing cabinet. A hard copy of my amateur efforts to write like the masters, these poems are bittersweet and pretty terrible. The better poems are on the computer, and there are not many of those.

The folder needs to be thrown away; all of those words, once agonized over, will never lead to anything meaningful. And yet I cannot bring myself to toss it away.

What is this need, this desire to hang on to these little scraps of soul? I don't need them, for sure. I am no longer that person. That person has grown up, and turned into ... well, me. I could no more write the words I wrote in 1988 as the person in 1988 could write these words today. Time has bent forward, and I have gone with it, growing, changing, creating and moving deeper in and then out again. Ebbing, flowing, like a tide trapped by the beams of the moon, I move on.

It's like a dance with myself - a step forward, a half-step back. I gain ground, sometimes in large strides, only to look backwards at where I have been. I cannot retrace my steps. I cannot go backwards. I could end up in the same place but the journey would change me.

The pond water lies calm, but toss in a pebble, and it churns. The water may grow smooth again, but it is changed forever.* A journal may hold words that were true at the time, but are they true today, or has change made them lies?




*I swiped that bit about the pond from the last scene of a Xena: Warrior Princess episode, Dreamworker.

When You Grow Up

Thirty-five years ago, when adults asked, "What do you want to be when you grow up," my answers were as varied as the days of the week.

I like rocks, so I wanted to be a geologist. I had a collection of shiny stones, culled from various rocks around my parents' farm.

I like history and digging in the dirt, so I wanted to be an archaeologist. I envisioned myself discovering long-forgotten cultures. Maybe even a spaceship to prove we were seeded.

On other days I wanted to be a forester, a teacher, an astronaut, and an adventurer. At one point I wanted to travel back and forth across the Bermuda Triangle until I disappeared, so I could solve the mystery.

Mostly I wanted to be a writer. I remember, distinctly, telling my mother that I would one day grow up to write for the local weekly newspaper. I also wanted to write a series of books like Carolyn Keene. I wanted to create my own Nancy Drew, a hip girl character who would save the world. I wanted to write beautiful poetry that would move the world.

I did not want to be a secretary, which was my mother's job, nor did I want to be a business person, which was my father's job. My mother made being a secretary sound like the most miserable thing a human being could accomplish, and my father made being a business person sound so unscrupulous that it wasn't for me.

However, I tried both; I was a purchasing agent for a business in Roanoke for about two years before I gave that up. I couldn't deal with the business climate - too much cheating, too much sexual harassment, too much not-being-paid-the-same-as-the-men. I couldn't abide it.

Then I was a legal secretary, and I worked in that for about 10 years (off and on). Like the corporate world, there was too much cheating, too much sexual harassment, too much not-being-paid-the-same-as-the men. I could only abide it for a decade.

I started writing as a stringer for the local newspaper in 1984. My first published article was about making apple butter. A year later, I was on staff part-time. Eventually I returned to secretarial work, but remained a stringer.

It is writing that I love. Writing has allowed me, vicariously, to be all the things I wanted to be growing up.

A forester? I can't tell you how many articles I've written about the National Forest.

An archaeologist? How many articles about the history of my county and its towns have I written? More than I can count.

A geologist? There are quarry proposals, mining businesses ... it's not quite the same as gathering shiny rocks, but I'm there.

An astronaut? I've been up in a hot air balloon - that was about as high as I really wanted to go.

A teacher? What are my articles, but ways to teach the public about what is going on in their government? I see it first and foremost as teaching and explaining. It is much more than reporting to me.

So maybe I didn't travel the Bermuda Triangle, but I have solved some of the riddles of county government for fellow citizens. I'm not so sure it's not the same thing.

This is my 500th post on this blog. When I began it in August 2006, I didn't know what it would be or why I was writing it. I still don't, but I am okay with that. My blog has turned into a depository for my creativity, someplace to try out new things, to think different thoughts. It is a work in progress; it is growing, and it will continue to grow. Do we ever really grow up, after all?

Mostly my blog has been a place to meet people who think similarly, who love life and nature and one another, who find grace in the world around them and see through eyes that somehow veil some of the harshness of the world. Making friends has been an unexpected gift.

I am grateful and humbled to be read by anyone. I hope that this journey has been and will continue to be, if not an inspiration, at least something that makes you, my gentle reader, think every now and again.

Whoever you are, I wish upon you many blessings, today and every day. I wish for peace for us all, for kindness for man and animal alike, for good times and laughter. May joy find you, and may you hold it close for many days to come.

Alice Tells Time

When I was five or six, my parents gave me a watch for my birthday. It was an Alice in Wonderland watch, and it came with this little statue.

The watch had a blue wrist band. I recall it as being self-winding and decorated only with the word "Alice" delicately written on the face, but I could be wrong. I can't find another like it on the Internet, although I did find this:



My watch, I am sure, did not have Alice on the face of it. This photo claims to be from a 1950s set, but I received mine in 1968 or 1969. If you look closely you can see a difference in the statues - the flowers, for instance. Although there is not a lot of difference.

I remember the watch with great fondness. I think it wore it until I was in high school. Then I started wearing Waltham watches, always with a stretch band, always in silver and gold. I scratched my best watch and replaced it with another Waltham that I really liked, one with moons and stars. That was a present to myself when I graduated from college.

I lost that watch when the jeweler went to replace the battery and broke the back of it. He gave me another Waltham, but it was unlike the one I had, and he kept the old one. I later learned Waltham no longer made that design.

These days I wear a Timex, but I would like to go back to a Waltham, I think, just for nostalgia's sake. Only they don't make anything now I really want to wear.

I have a thing for clocks and am never without a watch. I have clocks in every room of the house - some rooms have more than one. I like cuckoo clocks, grandfather clocks - most any kind of clock.

It is important to me to know what time it is, although I don't know why. I am always early or on time, and if I am late you'd better believe something came up.

My Alice statue has a place of honor in my curio cabinet. She is one of the first items you see when you look in there. She has little value, but she means a lot to me.

For the Birds

Thursday as the rains moved in, my house was suddenly inundated with birds. They were everywhere.

Robins bathed in a puddle and listened for worms in the front yard.



These yellow bellied birds with heads like Blue Jays (there were Blue Jays, too, only they did not pose for a photo) joined the robins for a bath. I don't know what these birds are; I couldn't find them in my Audubon guide.




The trees came to life with starlings; their raucous noise filled the air as they twittered and preened.


Their ranks filled the field across the driveway.

Books: Sights Unseen

Sights Unseen
By Kaye Gibbons
Copyright 1995
Abridged Audiobook
Read by the author

Mother is manic depressive. Daughter grows up in the 1960s with ill mother. Mother goes on a wild spree with vehicle, crashes into a woman. Mother is sent to Duke for electric shock treatments. Mother returns a changed woman. Daughter finally has a mother.

That pretty much sums up this book, which is a quiet and thoughtful reminiscence about how difficult it is to be a child when your parents can't be parents because of their own issues. Maggie Barnes is a mother suffering terribly, but the family suffers too, also terribly. As with most families, there are other players - Pearl, a helpful and loving maid who looks after the two children, Mr. Barnes, the father-in-law who is overbearing and plain mean, the father, who is madly in love with his wife despite her illness.

It was rather sad listening but the book moved me, in part because I identified with some of it.

3 stars

Thursday Thirteen

Thursday Thirteen

Good things about the New Year (in no particular order)

1. It's a new year! A clean slate. You get to start all over.

2. Spring is around the corner (although with the weather this week you'd think it here already).

3. It could snow! And that will help with the drought.

4. It's a time for reflection on the past. Think about the good things.

5. It's a time for looking forward to the future. What do you expect? How will you make it happen?

6. You get to put a new date on your checks. No, not 1998...

7. Everything old is new again. What will be the fashion this year - retro 1968 ... or?

8. I have new clothes from Christmas to wear.

9. I have non-alcoholic cider in the refrigerator to drink still (left over from New Year's celebrating).

10 Hope for change in the political scene. A new face in the White House. New legislators.

11 I celebrate 25 years of marriage. A quarter century of being married to a wonderful man whom I love with everything I have.

12 I turn 45 this year! Almost a half-century of living. The things I have seen! The places I've been!

13 And the good things about this year for you????

Sleepwalking

I have slept like it's spring for the last several days. Here we are in early January, delighting in days of 65 and 70 degree weather. The plants and trees must be wondering what is going on.

My nights have been filled with much tossing and turning. The bed clothes, still heavy for fear of winter, have been burdensome and warm. The air has been full of something akin to wonder and desperation; too humid for this time of year. I feel the wrongness of the season in my chest.

Last night I fell asleep early as I tried to rid myself of a raging headache. My dreams were vivid and grandiose - a friend murdered someone, and then covered up the crime as if it happened 500 years ago. She left clues in mortar and behind walls which I somehow tore down in a search for the truth. There was a foot race going on at the same time and I recall flashes of bright colors, neon green and orange and so on. I remember blinding distractions.

When I woke, I was not in my tangled bed, but in another room of the house. My feet were shod with Crocs, which I now use for house shoes because of my heel spur. How did I get here? I wondered. You've been sleepwalking, came the inner reply.

I have not moved about the house in my sleep for many years (or at least, not that I am aware of). This morning I wondered if it was the headache, or the lack of supper, or the wrong combination of vitamins on an empty stomach.

But I think it was none of that. I think instead it was the weather, this too-warm air that is making the forsythia bud two months ahead of its time. I think it was the force of a front moving in, this balance between hot and cold that brings the winds and forces clouds to race across the sky like the breath of God is chasing after them. I walked without awareness because the earth, so good and true and strong, trembled with change. I felt the pull, the itch, the urge, to reach up and move in anticipation of the difference, and in my sleep, with my conscience quieted, I simply got up to dance.

Son of the Shadows

Son of the Shadows
by Juliet Marillier
Copyright 2001
590 pages

This is the second book in the Sevenwaters Trilogy; the first I wrote about here.

In this second book we meet the daughter of Sorcha, the heroine of book one. Her name is Liadan and she is very much like her mother. However, she is a bit more selfish and passionate than Sorcha.

She lives at Sevenwaters with her parents, a twin brother, a sister, and an uncle. Her sister commits a mortal sin and is sent away to wed in a strategic alliance. Liadan is kidnapped and asked to heal a brigand. During her captivity she falls in love with the leader. When he learns who she is, he is repulsed because of some history. She returns home and is with child.

Unlike her sister, she is not ostracized and her demands, which are to remain unwed, are met. The Fairy Folk visit her and tell her to raise the child in the forest to fulfill a prophecy.

Bran, the child's father, learns he is a daddy. He is in love with Liadan but not ready to live a law-abiding life.

Eventually he is captured and Liadan saves him. They figure out their destiny.

Of course the book is much more complicated than that and the climax is very intriguing. The book probably stands on its own but I think is more poignant for the reader if the first book has also been read.

3.5 stars

Books: Her Father's House

Her Father's House
by Belva Plain
Read by Karen White
10 1 1/2 hour tapes
Copyright 2002

I enjoy Belva Plain's work and have for many years. This book holds up to her high standards, although it took it a very long time to get to the heart of the story. There was more back story than anything, I suppose, so much so that what happened before became the real story.

Donald Wolfe, a hotshot lawyer, meets Lillian, a beauty. She is also a philander and shallow. Eventually they divorce, but not before Lillian is pregnant. She remarries almost immediately (always moving up the financial and fame ladder). Their child, Bettina (aka Tina, Cookie, and later, Laura), is cared for by a nurse, Maria, who reports to Donald that his ex is having affairs and neglecting their daughter. When she decides to leave her husband and join another man in France, Donald decides he doesn't want his daughter to go that far from him.

So he kidnaps her and flees. He changes his name to Jim Fuller and Bettina becomes Laura. He meets a family in Georgia and becomes a farm overseer. The farmer dies and he marries the wife and takes over the farm. This is all done in love and compassion, etc., it's not for money. Laura is raised with love and care and it's a good life.

She grows up alongside her stepbrother, Rick. After she goes to college, she meets Gil, a law student who later becomes a lawyer. He is acquainted with the story of Donald Wolfe - apparently not many great lawyers just run off and leave a career. Eventually he figures out who Jim/Donald is and spills the secret.

Laura then must deal with the truth and the aftermath, which could have dire consequences for her father and their relationship.

4 stars

Eat Carbs, Lose Weight

Eat Carbs, Lose Weight
By Denise Austin with Amy Campbell
Copyright 2005

I bought this and read it last fall and forgot to mention it.

It is a good book with exercises and a nice diet plan if you're not lactose and glucose intolerant (which I am). Also if you like to cook and try new recipes (I do not).

The exercises are good and I have always liked Austin's perky attitude about life. I will look this book over again for that reason. Unfortunately there are many items in the menu that I cannot (or do not) eat. When a diet is like that I generally can't stick with it.

This is much more sensible than many other diet books, I have to say. I wish I could follow it better.

Stairway To Heaven

My Husband's Hands, Redux

It occurred to me that the essay I wrote yesterday about my husband's hands might make a nice poem.

Here is my effort at that:


My Husband's Hands

These large hands, worn with calluses
rough and scratchy,these hands I love.

A working man's hands, my husband's hands.
Scarred with cuts from barbed wire fence.

Smashed with hammers, trapped between tractor parts,aching with splinters from fence posts.

The nails are bruised, cut short because long nails
do not belong on the hands of a farmer.

Farmer and fireman.
His hands soothe calves and save lives.

His fingers touch so lightly
that it seems a feather passed by.

His gentle hands take a pulse and feel brows,
and grip a shovel with the strength of Hercules.

His strong hands built our home nail by nail
and planted trees now fully grown.

His hands take me places I never dreamed
when they touch and caress and love.

***

What do you think?

My Husband's Hands

These hands belong to my husband. They are very large and quite worn.

His hands are twice the size of mine. He requires gloves larger than XL - which are hard to find. I bought him three pair for Christmas and had to return them all because they were too small.

These are working man's hands. They are scarred, scraped, bruised, dry, and rough. They have dirt ground into them that doesn't come off with a shower. They have grit in them, and often splinters. The nails are generally bruised because he's hit his finger with a hammer or smashed it against something.

These hands also caress and are so gentle you wonder if you're being touched by a feather. They grip tightly in love and wonder. They give great massages and are the first part of a hug.

We hold hands every night while we watch TV. We hold hands in the mall and when we're on vacation.

My husband's hands are a wonder to me. They built our house, nail by nail. They work the farm and touch the soil. They mow grass and plant trees. They care for the cattle and build fence. They fix tractors.

They also help the sick when he's at work running emergency calls, because he is an EMT. These hands put out fires, save people's lives, rescue cats from trees and pull dogs from sewers.

These hands are a miracle. So is he.

The Sparrow

I’ve never seen a sparrow
fall from the sky
but I’ve seen them perch
shivering in early April rains,
feet grasping frail branches.
Do sparrows fear the air?
Do their hearts rise in tiny,
feathered throats as the ground
rises to great them?

Thursday Thirteen

This is Thursday, a listing day
when thirteen is the number to play

To write 13 events or things
or maybe 13 songs to sing

But alas, my thinker's done
Tired from thinking the whole day gone

So here I am with no 13 list
no song or prayer or number kissed

Instead in couplets I write down words
knowing that this is quite absurd

But now I'm done, and I can tell
my lines really number ... twelve.

2008 - Goals

Here, in no particular order, are a few things I'd like to do in the upcoming year:

Take a photography class. This could be a non-credit course or personalized instruction from someone who's more professional than I. Even though I am, by definition, a professional photographer because I get paid for my work, I think a refresher course, particularly one which focuses specifically on digital cameras, could be of benefit.

Lose weight. This is periennal and I failed at it last year. I will cross my fingers and close my lips.

Exercise. So long as the injuries stay away, I successfully exercise for at least a half hour on most days. I kept this up last year in spite of the pain. I am happy about that.

Organize. I think I am disorganized with my time. I get a lot done but there is more to do.

De-clutter. The older I get, the less stuff I want around me. Where does it all come from?

Plan and take a nice vacation. My husband and I will celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary this year. I would like to go somewhere with him.

Reevaluate. I will turn 45 this year. It seems like a good year to decide if I'm doing what I want to do with my career and if I am not, make a change. If I am, then I need to accept that and move on with it.

Now, let's see how that all works out in the next 365 days.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Looking Ahead

So what does 2008 hold?

I want this year to be the year of embraced change - a new president of the country to replace the tired and mean one we have now, a new media that focuses on real issues and not fake celebrity news, universal health care for all so that this broken system can mend and doctors can become healers again, not moneychangers.

A girl can dream.

And I hope that in 2008 I dream a lot. I hope for many good nights of sleep, for songs, for sunshine with rain because we surely need the water, for rainbows and snow and green grass. Not necessarily all in one day, but wouldn't it be a cool day if it did all happen?

I pray that in 2008 that the suicide rate drops, that cars burn less fuel, that the poor raise their head and look up - I am pretty sure the reflection from that vast number of eyes would catch someone's attention. Maybe someone would move a mountain and make things better.

I believe it can be done.

For 2008 I wish good things for everyone, even folks I don't know, and those who have been unkind to me. I wish for open minds, for hugging hearts, and for cherished thoughts. I wish for joy and peace, and a new day each and every day. I want to jump up to the embrace of the light.

Let 2008 be the best New Year ever. Let freedom ring and democracy become true. May each and every soul know love.

May the New Year be blessed.

The Fat Moon

I took this picture one morning last week. I think it was Christmas Eve but am not certain.

Looking Back at 2007

Before I launch into what I am hoping will happen next year, I thought I'd look back at what happened in 2007.

About this time a year ago, I wrote a blog entry about what I hoped might happen this year. How did I do with those plans?

1. We completed the renovations on the old house my mother left me. I say "we" but this was my husband's project. I was merely moral support.

2. I obtained one new client this past year.

3. I wrote no fiction. Or very little, anyway.

4. I did not return to college.

5. I stopped biting my nails! I'm not sure they look any better, because I keep them cut very short, and they are frail and brittle, but ... they are not bitten!

6. I set no career goals. At least, none that I remember.

7. The bathroom was repainted. This, again, was a husband chore.

8. I planted a larger garden. Not much larger, but bigger than the previous year.

9. My husband's website, Septic Tank Advisor, still languishes and is in need of content. It does have a couple of new pages but nothing to brag about.

10. I did not build a website for myself.

Those are things I thought about last year as I looked forward. Now I want to see what I actually accomplished.

Health

I did not lose weight. This has been a big disappointment. I also developed a heel spur, which interfered greatly with my exercise. To my credit, I did not let this stop my exercise routine. I continued to find ways to exercise during the hour I alot myself in the mornings. I was afraid I would break the habit. But I did not and I am still exercising every morning, almost every day, for at least 50 minutes.

Later in the year I developed a problem with my neck and back, but thankfully this is better. So I am hoping for better health in 2008, which would include continued exercise and weight loss.

My problem here? Chocolate - which I once did without for 10 years and am sorry I started eating again - and a 3 p.m. slump that sends me on a rampage almost daily in search of some kind of pick-me-up.

The Rest of My Life


Since I didn't write the great American novel, I wondered what I did with my time. This is what I did:

1. I wrote about 315 blog entries.

2. I read or listened to these books: Sacred Sins, Chopping Spree, The Gift, Agnes and the Hitman, Destiny, Rhapsody, Prophecy, Drop Dead Beautiful, Mad Dash, Sam's Letters to Jennifer, The Mists of Avalon, Revenge of the Middle-Aged Woman, A Walk Through the Fire, Armageddon's Children, Listen to the Silence, Whiskey Sour, Can't Wait to Get to Heaven, Pieces of My Sister's Life, Daughter of the Forest, How I Write, Lean Mean Thirteen, Low Country, Family Acts, Cheap Diamonds, Sheer Abandon, The Wizard's Daughter, Harry Potter & the Half Blood Prince, Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows, The Dangerous Hour, The Shadow of the Wind, Shem Creek, The Secret, Magic Hour, The Quilter's Homecoming, Creatively Self-Employed,The Passions of Chelsea Kane, Trickster's Queen, Full Bloom, Trickster's Choice, Queen of Broken Hearts, Summer Reading, The Great Far Away, Kurt Vonnegut Audio Collection, Rococo, Tara Road, Milk Glass Moon, Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, Still Water Saints, The Same Sweet Girls, A Year of Wonders, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, and The Sugar Addict's Total Recovery Program.

I am a little surprised by the list. I counted 54 books. Is that right? I had no idea I read so much. That must be at least 220 hours just in reading (3 hours a book). Of course, many of those are audio books, heard in the car, so I am doing double duty there. And I read fast. But still. I wonder if I should read less....

3. I wrote 337 articles for various local newspapers, all of which published. I had 93 photos published in the same newspapers. I wrote 7 articles for a magazine, of which all but one published, and 12 book reviews (which I think all published but don't hold me to that). Obviously most of my efforts go into the newspaper work. I really enjoy writing for the newspaper but I do wonder if this is the best place to exert all of this effort.

I spent very little time on marketing myself, or looking for better writing markets. I think this is a place I am lacking, because it could bring in new work. So this is an area to focus on.

However, I am so busy doing all of this other writing that I don't really have time to focus on anything else. I think I've hit on the problem - I need to give something up. Maybe that's reading, or maybe it's something else, but it looks like something needs to go if I am to make way for other things.

On the other hand, perhaps I'm perfectly happy with things as they are?

There are 8,760 hours in a year. I estimate that I spent 220 hours (at least) reading books; let's add another 40 hours reading magazines. I probably spent another 320 hours writing/reading blog entries. I spent about 1,070 hours writing articles. I spent probably 300 hours answering e-mails.

That's 1,950 hours accounted for. Obviously I am not working 8 hours a day. But, a regular work week uses up about 2,080 hours and that's with coworkers, etc., which I don't have, so I am not far off a regular 40-hour work week.

If I slept 8 hours a night, that's another 2,920. Add another 1,095 for meals.

Now, if my math is right, we're up to 5,965 hours of the year gone, leaving the remaining 2,795 hours, or 53 hours a week, for things like cleaning the house, doing the laundry, kissing my husband, gardening, and grocery shopping. Also for doing my bookkeeping, filing, and all the other things that go along with running a business from home but what isn't writing.

Now that I have this information, what will I do with it? What will this do for me in 2008?

A Funny

Here's a fun animation for baby boomers...Enjoy!

Thursday Thirteen

While I was in the city today:

1. Boy, I thought, I sure hope I don't get this stuff my husband has, because he is still quite sick. I don't have time to be sick.

2. The traffic was not as bad as I expected.

3. Why isn't the file cabinet I want on sale? Everything else is! I wondered. I bought it anyway because I needed it.

4. Overheard while stuck in a return merchandise line at KMart:
Child: "I want a pony."
Lady: "You can't have a pony."
"But I want a pony now!"
Lady: "Santa's wallet is empty now, you can't have a pony."
Child: "I don't want a pony when Santa comes next year, I WANT IT NOW!"

5. I marveled at the ease with which I returned things to the new Sportsman's Warehouse. No line, no waiting, no questions. At least at the time today when I was there.

6. I looked longingly at Books-A-Million as I drove by, but alas, I didn't have time to stop.

7. In Fresh Market, I discovered on my second trip ever into the store that all they carry is food. I couldn't find any filters for the coffee maker there anywhere.

8. I did find rice crackers, which I have never had but which are gluten free, along with some non-alcoholic sparkling something or another for New Year's.

9. I also found a tiny little 82 percent cacao chocolate bar, which cost $1.99. I bought it anyway but I haven't yet eaten it.

10. My other purchases consisted of coat hangers for the new clothes my husband received (his clothes are heavy and require something sturdy) and a chicken for dinner. Neither came from Fresh Market. I could have bought the chicken there but I didn't have any way to ensure it wouldn't spoil before I could get home.

11. The new Art Museum, which I am sure will be filled with lots of delightful things to view, looks to me like a spaceship that has crash landed in the heart of downtown.

12. I thought the weather was quite warm for December 27 in the Mid-Atlantic. Isn't it supposed to be snowing or something this time of the year?

13. As I begin to turn into my driveway, the nut behind me nearly rear ends me. I drive 100+ miles and *this* is where I am terrified?

Christmas 2007

Over and done, all that madness and build-up and fun and smiles. The packages are unwrapped, the food eaten.

Oh, the excitement! The anticipation. The quivering of joy!

Christmas Eve brought a touch of foreboding as my husband came home from work. "I don't feel well," he announced. I plied him with Zicam, vitamins, over-the-counter symptom relievers and Tylenol, to no avail. This morning he lies in the bed with a fever, which he developed Christmas morning.

I am trying to nurse him and stay away from him at the same time. I actually slept on the couch last night and left him the bed, though I got up several times to check on him. I am highly susceptible to things and an illness puts me under a long time. My immune system is not the best, and he is not the greatest at covering his mouth when he sneezes or otherwise keeping his germs to himself. I love him but I do not love his virus!

Aside from this bit of misfortune, we had a nice holiday. Christmas Eve was blessed with a visit from my great aunt, who is 87, my aunt (who brought my great aunt from the assisted living facility), my cousin, his wife, and their baby. Such a busy child! She was a sight to behold.

The rest of the day was relatively quiet. I tried to keep the husband full of liquids and resting, which is a little difficult at the moment because we have a sick calf in the barn. Someone has to feed it and that means it needs to be lifted up and forced to stand several times a day. Unfortunately I haven't the strength to lift it so this is not a job I can do.

As for presents, I received an ipod nano from my husband, my first ever music player like this. I spent some time putting my CDs on it, and it now has 165 songs I can listen to. From my other relatives I received clothing, wooden spoons as a result of my unfortunate incident with peanut brittle, and towels.

My brother gave me DVD of the first season of the Mod Squad, which when I was a child was must-see TV. A little bittersweet because he is one of only two people who would know such a thing, and I didn't see him this year even though he only lives six miles away. I did see his children in a Christmas play Sunday night.

We had a nice visit with the in-laws, and a good meal of meatballs and fried shrimp. The nephews, who are 13 and 16, almost 14 and 17, and both polite young men who are a credit to their parents. They showed me how to use the ipod.

But now the holiday is over - and it's all done until next year!

I hope the day was wonderful for everyone.

Merry Christmas

The Wife Before Christmas

Rhett, over at Roanoke Firefighters blog, sent out a challenge for a poem about firefighters or a related topic.


So I wrote this:


The Wife Before Christmas


The night before Christmas, a dear holy hour
I sit with a brandy in front of the fire.
Alone with our child tucked asleep down the hall
and the man that I love has gone out on a call.


He's a fireman, you see, and when sirens blast
He rushes to help, to bring hope to you fast.
Through smoke, in the ice, in hard driving rain,
He offers assistance and helps folks in pain.


No though for himself, he offers a hand,
No matter the season or what we had planned.
I just let him go, see him off with a kiss
and try not to worry about what he will miss -


Baby's first step, or her eyes all alight
When she sees what Ol' Santa leaves her tonight.
I pray for his safety, that he comes back to me
That he not be in danger is my nightly plea.


He's my whole life, I give him all that I can.
He's one of the finest - he's a fireman.


Okay, so not great poetry. Also not entirely true in my circumstance, as we have no children. But if we *had* children, it would be like that. As it is I usually just expect something to go wrong and him not be here - you know, things like toilets overflowing or furnaces not working, or three feet of snow.

He is home with me this Christmas Eve, and tomorrow, too. Not so next year, when he pulls Christmas Eve duty. I have spent a number of Christmas Eves or Christmas Day's without him.

Being a firefighter's wife means you always say "I love you" and you don't fight because there's no way to know what will happen in the next moment. I can't count the number of times we've been saying "good night" over the phone only to have the alarm bells ring. He dashes off to a fire and then calls me back later, even it is 3 a.m., to let me know he is okay.

He is a public servant. He saves lives. I am very proud of him.

My Holiday Traditions

I swiped this meme from June over at Spatter because, well, I need something to write about and it is holiday time.

So here goes:

1. Wrapping or gift bags? I do both. My husband, I confess, is the better wrapper of the two of us. I always crinkle the paper or just don't cut it straight. Gift bags are easy - but then, again, they are easy.


2. Real or artificial tree? We have an artificial tree. I am allergic to real ones. I used to become ill every year in December and never knew why until I married. Then I realized it was the tree. One year we went through trees. We started out with a pine, switched to a fir, and then bought an artificial tree. Regular readers might recall that we have actually misplaced a tree before.

3. When do you put up the tree? Anytime between December 1 and December 10. Usually on a Sunday evening.


4. When do you take the tree down? Anytime from the day after Christmas to January 2. This year it will probably come down on December 29 or 30.

5. Do you like eggnog? Not particularly. I don't drink milk products as a rule - lactose issues. But my husband's family *loves* boiled custard, which I had never heard of until I became family member.


6. Favorite gift received as a child? I received my first bike when I was five years old. It was blue and had training wheels. It had a Bat Girl doll riding on the seat.


7. Do you have a nativity scene? Yes. I have a hand-carved one and a few others.

8. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?

A hair-rolling set. This came from my grandmother in California, who I have met only twice and who knew nothing about me. In particular she did not know that I am not very capable when it comes to hair. I need a nice no-nonsense cut and always have.

9. Mail or email Christmas cards? I do both, but mostly mail. I sent out about 70 cards this year. I intend to cut back on the list every year but it is always hard for me to leave someone out.

10. Favorite Christmas Movie? I don't really have one. My favorite Christmas TV show is "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer," the original version with Burl Ives as the Snowman. It is must-see TV for my husband and myself.


11. When do you start shopping for Christmas? Generally in September or October.

12. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas? Fudge, hands down.

13. Clear lights or colored on the tree? Always colored. Clear lights are so formal.

14. Favorite Christmas song? O Holy Night, particularly the Jim Neighbors version. Here it is on Youtube.

15. Travel at Christmas or stay home? I stay home. Christmas Eve is celebrated by family coming to me - an aunt, a cousin, and now the cousin's wife and child, my great aunt. The numbers have dwindled. This year I will be missing my grandmother. It will be the first time in 24 years she has not been to my home for the holiday. She passed away in June. Christmas Day, we go to my in-laws to spend the hours with them and my husband's sister's family.

16. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, Rudolph, and Olive, the other reindeer. ;-) I think there is also one named Clyde.

17. Angel on the tree top or a star? At the moment it's an angel, though it has been a star. We have a star outside as a decoration.

18. Open the presents Christmas Eve or Christmas Morning? Christmas morning. When I was a child, my parents would let my brother and I open our gifts to one another.

19. Most annoying thing about this time of year? I must say, having Christmas carols blasting on the radio on November 22 annoyed me a lot. It takes away the specialness of the season. By the time you've heard some of those songs 100 times, you don't want to hear them again when it matters most!

20. Do you decorate your tree in any specific theme or color? Not really. I do have a lot of Santa Mouses and firefighter decorations on the tree, but it's not really a theme.

21. What do you leave for Santa? I don't leave anything for him; I just take him to bed....

22. Least favorite holiday song? I like almost all of them, but some of the "funny" ones can be rather grating (Grandma Got Runned Over by a Reindeer, etc).

23. Favorite ornament? A Santa Mouse that my parents purchased on their first Christmas. I do not have it, though.

24. Family tradition? Just being with my husband spending time with people I love.

25. Ever been to Midnight Mass? My area churches have a community service that I have attended. It is a lovely way to spend Christmas Eve.

26. Most memorable good deed you witnessed or participated in during the holidays? The Social Services Department does the angel tree and ensures a happy Christmas for about 4500 families in our area. I applaud them for that.

***

Anyone reading this is welcome to participate in this meme either by a post on a blog or as a comment here. For the bloggers, you're supposed to:

Link to the person that tagged you, and post the rules on your blog.
Share Christmas facts about yourself.
Tag seven random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.
Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.

I am not tagging anyone. But if you want to do the meme, please do!

Unexpected

We woke this morning to snow. This was not anticipated, at least by us. But we had not seen the weather forecast for 24 hours.

We received about 3 inches of white stuff.











Today I have another unexpected event. An old client of mine called needing assistance. I am giving it reluctantly, I confess, because today I was expecting to start a 10-day vacation, not work.

Unlike the gnome, I cannot simply drop out of site and appear only when it snows.

There are days when I wish I could.

The Tin Man Syndrome

If you rest you'll rust.

That line came from a Denise Austin work out the other morning as I sweated to her Daily Work Out on Lifetime TV.

It gave me pause. Well, I didn't stop exercising but I did look up. Then I started thinking.

I don't want to rust. But I would like to rest occasionally.

I blame the Protestant Work Ethic. This bugaboo has its proponents because it means people work themselves mercilessly. Even in Social Studies at the secondary level, this work ethic is considered a good thing. It is called the Root of Democracy.

This work ethic has made the U.S. the most materially wealthy nation in the world. We're hardworking, prosperous...

We're tired, is what we are.

The New Yorker in 2005 noted that Americans work more and play less than most other nations. Our leisure time is non-existent. The French people work 28 percent less than we do. "Americans trade their productivity for more money, while Europeans trade it for more leisure," the author of this article writes.

He goes on to say this is a result of unions and collective agreements. Europeans had better bargainers. They may have less stuff, but they get to actually enjoy what they have.

In this article about the work ethic in the U.S., note that the Europeans are getting paid vacation. We can't even get time off to have babies, take care of our elderly relatives, deal with sickness... any of the stuff of life. We have to beg and borrow whatever time off we do receive, and then it's given to us begrudgingly.

And when we do finally take vacation, do we spend that entire two weeks away from the office? Nope. We check e-mail, call in, make business phone calls, turn our travel plans upside down to make some out-of-the-area conference.

The reality is, some of us are working hard for stuff. Bigger houses, or a second home, a nicer car, better sofa - whatever.

But it's also a reality that many of us are doing all of this work simply to keep a modest roof over our heads and to pay the necessary bills. I'm talking about utility bills, like electricity and heating, and food bills. There are an awful lot of people who are working two and three jobs just to keep food on the table.

I think millions of Americans can't afford to rest, not because they think they'll rust, but because they think they'll starve.

This is wrong.

I recently learned from the Commondreams article at that link that in 1948, the United Nations set forth a declaration called the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. I keep up with a lot of things, but I was completely unaware that such a document existed.

As that article points out, the United States violates this document. A lot. And we're in the process of dismantling it even more.

Of course, this document apparently has no legal strength. I suppose it's just a wish list.

I was most interested in Articles 23 and 24, which state: (1) Everyone has the right to work, to free choice of employment, to just and favourable conditions of work and to protection against unemployment. (2) Everyone, without any discrimination, has the right to equal pay for equal work. (3) Everyone who works has the right to just and favourable remuneration ensuring for himself and his family an existence worthy of human dignity, and supplemented, if necessary, by other means of social protection. (4) Everyone has the right to form and to join trade unions for the protection of his interests.
Article 24.
Everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay.

Does working 60 hours a week fall under those rights? I don't think so.

I am not a fan of capitalism. I think it is demeaning system, a way of having slave labor and calling it something else, like factory worker. It creates class distinctions and allows too much privilege for those who by virtue of birth or luck are able to manipulate the system to their benefit. I have long noticed that folks who play by the rules, which seems to be many people, are the ones left without heat because they can no longer pay the bills.

I think there are better ways to do things, ways that are fairer and more humane. Ways in which to get the job done that are fair to everyone concerned. However, until our society en masse decides this, I don't see a change coming.

I am not saying we should not work, or that people should just receive a handout so they can sit around and watch TV. I am saying that I would like to see justice in the workplace, some fairness and equity in the way salaries and vacations are dispensed. I would like to see people love their life, not hate it. Living should be a joy, not a grind, but our work ethic has made life a drudgery.

Rest or rust?

Why should that be our only choice?

Mangled Christmas Carols

I have a tendency not to sing the right words to certain songs. Here are few that I have twisted over the years...

Deck the Halls

"Deck the Halls with Melancholy," fa la la la, la la la...

Sleigh Ride

Just hear those sleigh bells ringalinging...

Somewhere later:

.... "when you see an alligator eating ... pumpkin pie."

Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Rudolph, the dead-eye cowboy, had a very shiny gun,
and if you ever saw it, then I guess you'd better run.


These are parody, that is, changing the words to the songs to suit yourself even though you know the proper phrasing.

When you sing the wrong thing because you're hearing it incorrectly, it's called a mondegreen. You might want to check out that link because it's rather interesting. There are some great examples.

Snopes has a listing of mondegreens of Christmas carols which you can access here. Fun!

What Christmas carols do you mangle? Come on, 'fess up.

Ice Storm December 16, 2007

Peanut Brittle (or I Am Not a Cook)

I do not consider myself to be much of a cook. There are some things I manage well. In the past two years, I have made an effort to make some new recipe once a month.

In December every year, I make fudge. Chocolate fudge, white fudge, butterscotch fudge. I take it around to my various clients and hand it off to friends.

It is one thing I do well.

This year, I thought for my new thing that I would try peanut brittle. I had never made it and a friend told me it was really easy. In fact, she listed the ingredients as I was on my way to the store and without looking at the recipe, I purchased what she'd said.

She neglected to mention I should use raw peanuts. But from the recipes I found online that was okay; you just didn't add them to the corn syrup and sugar until the very last.

So today was fudge-making day, and I decided to do the peanut brittle first. I gathered my ingredients, buttered my pan.

My good candy thermometer, to my dismay, was broken. I didn't trust the other one I had so I called my mother-in-law to borrow hers. She lives just across the farm. I raced over there and back again.

Corn syrup, water and sugar in the pot. Stir, stir. I put the two thermometers side by side. Mine seemed to be 10 degrees off. Hers was registering hotter, but then sometimes they matched. It was kind of weird.

It took a while to get to soft ball stage (234 degrees F.). I had to get to hard crack stage - which was either 290 degrees or 305 depending on the thermometer.

The ingredients, clear at first, began to yellow. Then they turned a dark golden color. It was fascinating to watch.

Stir, stir. Eye on the thermometers.

Stir, stir.

Yes! It was at hard crack stage. Time to take the pot from the heat and add the peanuts.

I dumped the peanuts into the pot and began stirring. Suddenly black stuff swirled around the golden yellow. At first I thought I'd not been fast enough and scorched something.

Then I looked down at the utensil I was using:

I was using a plastic spoon. It melted off into the peanut brittle.

You may all laugh now.

Can you say "devastated idiot"? I stood there, mouth agape, looking at the pot and the spoon. I moved to the refrigerator and slowly beat my head against it.

Then I realized if I didn't get that stuff out of the pot, it was going to harden. I grabbed potholders and flew outside with it.

The air, cold enough to snow as we wait for an ice storm, quickly cooled the ingredients.

It was almost too hard to remove. I took a handy stick and got chunks of it out, but quite a bit remained around the sides of the pan.

I took it back in the house, dumped water in the pan, and put it back on the stove eye to heat so I could scrape the pan.

The candy thermometers gleamed with coats of hard thin candy. The peanut brittle would have set up nicely had there not been a spoon mixed in...

To top it, as I began to clean the thermometers, I actually sliced open my thumb on the thin sheen of peanut brittle mixture. I bled like the James River after a rain.

I really am going to make fudge this afternoon. Really I am.

But I will be using a metal or wooden spoon.