Dear Santa:
I know it's a little late for a letter, particularly one from an adult. But I thought I would just say "howdy" and see what you were up to.
As far as I know your reindeer have escaped unharmed during hunting season. If anyone shot a reindeer with a harness or a red nose I didn't hear about it, and I keep up with those things. So I expect your flight to be unhindered. I'll be watching on Norad.
I have noticed that a lot of people are having a hard time paying their heating bills this winter. I am hoping you can do something about that. This may actually be a good year for lumps of coal, so you might want to check the list several times and see if folks qualify for that particular heating fuel. Coal doesn't have the best reputation, though, so you might want to find another heat source. Maybe something new that burns clean? I know you can come up with something. It might be a good revenue source for you.
I would ask that anything you are thinking of for me be given to someone at an old folk's home, if they can use it. Those poor people need some attention. I fear for a society that can't take better care of its elderly.
Please leave heapfuls of commonsense for the folks who are in charge. That goes for government leaders as well as media people. The media isn't in charge but it is influential. I have noticed lately that many media stories are now noticing that "this CEO is making so much money." Why weren't they saying that 10 years ago? Please help us writers, reporters and journalists to find our courage and our inquisitiveness again. There is so much that needs investigating that there should be lots of work.
I ask for world peace and no world hunger and all of that every year, Dear Santa, but I suspect that is beyond you. So I am hoping that by narrowing my focus a little bit (see above), you'll be able to work it out easier. I am stopping at three things because it could be a really long list otherwise.
Anyway, Santa, I hope your flight goes swiftly and that your 24 hours of delivering presents is loads of fun. I'll leave the light on for you!
Sincerely,
Anita
*A friend tells me that Norwegians call the day before Christmas Eve "Little Christmas Eve." I love it!
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Happy Solistice
It's the longest day of the year.
The night when darkness takes hold
and seems not to let go.
It's the darkest time of the year
and tomorrow the brightness will grow
as we move toward the light.
***
I was trying to think what to do to honor the Winter Solstice and I found a quiz on Peevish Pen called "What Druid Animal Are You?"
Here is my result:
Oh wise Salmon, tell me the tales of the deep! The salmon will travel hundreds of miles to return to it's place of birth, and so shall you... those miles may be emotional, however, since you need to rediscover the child within you. You hold such great power, but cannot express it fully until you are free from the emotional bonds that keep you from it. Rejuvenate your spirit, wise salmon, and rediscover the inner child that you hold back.
***
I was a little surprised at how profound this was.
***
Inspired, I moved to tarot.com, where I only do the free things because I don't waste money on such items.
Here is the I-ching hexagram result:
Sunday, December 21st, 2008 9:21am PST
Your Present Hexagram : Small Influences
A gentle wind gathers the clouds, but still, no rain. Softer influences predominate as the power of subtle forces grows. This is a time for smooth and friendly persuasion.
In the ebb and flow of any relationship, there are always "low tides" -- times when sweeping action is impossible or inappropriate, but when small matters can be attended to profitably, leading to bigger and better things later on. When the tide is rolling in, by all means, ride the wave; but when it is receding like it is now, focus on the little things.
When the times are such that you cannot do much to affect large matters, persuasion and subtle influence can prepare the way for strength in the future. Use your intuition to chart your long-term course, but avoid bold actions for the moment; they are unlikely to work. This is an excellent time to refine existing abilities or develop new talents.
***
The night when darkness takes hold
and seems not to let go.
It's the darkest time of the year
and tomorrow the brightness will grow
as we move toward the light.
***
I was trying to think what to do to honor the Winter Solstice and I found a quiz on Peevish Pen called "What Druid Animal Are You?"
Here is my result:
Oh wise Salmon, tell me the tales of the deep! The salmon will travel hundreds of miles to return to it's place of birth, and so shall you... those miles may be emotional, however, since you need to rediscover the child within you. You hold such great power, but cannot express it fully until you are free from the emotional bonds that keep you from it. Rejuvenate your spirit, wise salmon, and rediscover the inner child that you hold back.
***
I was a little surprised at how profound this was.
***
Inspired, I moved to tarot.com, where I only do the free things because I don't waste money on such items.
Here is the I-ching hexagram result:
Sunday, December 21st, 2008 9:21am PST
Your Present Hexagram : Small Influences
A gentle wind gathers the clouds, but still, no rain. Softer influences predominate as the power of subtle forces grows. This is a time for smooth and friendly persuasion.
In the ebb and flow of any relationship, there are always "low tides" -- times when sweeping action is impossible or inappropriate, but when small matters can be attended to profitably, leading to bigger and better things later on. When the tide is rolling in, by all means, ride the wave; but when it is receding like it is now, focus on the little things.
When the times are such that you cannot do much to affect large matters, persuasion and subtle influence can prepare the way for strength in the future. Use your intuition to chart your long-term course, but avoid bold actions for the moment; they are unlikely to work. This is an excellent time to refine existing abilities or develop new talents.
***
Saturday, December 20, 2008
7:45 a.m.
This morning I slept until 7:45 a.m.! Whoo.
That is late for me. I am almost always up by 6 a.m.
My husband rises at 5 a.m. Every morning. No matter what.
And we go to bed at 10 p.m. We're real partiers, we are.
That is late for me. I am almost always up by 6 a.m.
My husband rises at 5 a.m. Every morning. No matter what.
And we go to bed at 10 p.m. We're real partiers, we are.
Friday, December 19, 2008
The Break of Dawn, Christmas Eve
One of the Christmas myths that caught my fancy when I was very young was the legend of the talking animals.
At midnight on Christmas Eve, the animals in the barn would wake and speak. They would tell one another the story of the birth of Baby Jesus.
The donkey would say that because of his ancestor, Jesus was born in Bethlehem and not in the countryside.
The dog would say that his ancestor to protected them, keeping harm from Mary and Joseph.
The dove would say that her ancestor cooed the little baby to sleep.
The cow would say her ancestor offered milk to the wee child. And so on and so forth.
It was my fondest wish to hear this.
My parents did not spend Christmas Eve at home, generally, so neither of course did us children, my brother and I.
We went to the Webbs, a family who lives at the foot of Caldwell Mountain not far from where I grew up. These folks have been friends of my father’s for longer than I am old, and on Christmas Eve their house was full of loved ones.
The adults would pick guitars and sing carols while the young ones shrieked and chased each other up and down the stairs.
We were often joined by my aunt and uncle, who went with us for the singing, music and fun. My aunt, who is from Salem, tells me she has missed only one Christmas “in the country,” since 1970.
I remember a fireplace crackling merrily, the smell of chocolate chip cookies and the odoriferous wafting of the smell of cedar from the hand-hewn tree, fresh off the farm. There was lots of camaraderie and lots of noise.
Back at my house, I had a dog that I expected to speak at the appropriate hour, so my anxiety tended to grow as the evening wore on. Would we be home in time for me to hear the Christmas magic?
Generally speaking I think we were home by 11 p.m.
I, of course, was sent to bed almost immediately because Santa Claus was on his way and he would not stop for a little girl who did not go to bed.
Year after year I fell asleep before midnight. And finally, when I was almost too old to believe in myths anymore, I had the bright idea of taking the dog to bed with me and staying up to hear what he had to say.
I remember staring intently at Major, the white poodle, in the moonlight.
Waiting. And waiting.
The next thing I knew, my brother was shaking me. “Santa came! Get up!” he whispered.
And in the excitement of toys and presents around the tree, I forgot what I had been waiting for.
I remembered later in the day. I went to my mother with my complaint. “I don’t think the animals really talk,” I said, noting that there went another childhood fantasy out the window.
My mother hugged me. “Of course they do,” she said, pulling my hair from my face. “You fell asleep is all.”
I shook my head. “No Mama. I watched Major and he never said a thing.”
“Then you must have blinked.”
Surprised, I asked what she meant.
“Do you know exactly when night falls?” she said. “Or when the sun comes up and it is daylight? Can you catch those moments?”
I shook my head.
“If you miss the exact moment when it is midnight, that very second, then you can’t see the magic work,” she said.
“It’s just like catching the break of dawn.”
At midnight on Christmas Eve, the animals in the barn would wake and speak. They would tell one another the story of the birth of Baby Jesus.
The donkey would say that because of his ancestor, Jesus was born in Bethlehem and not in the countryside.
The dog would say that his ancestor to protected them, keeping harm from Mary and Joseph.
The dove would say that her ancestor cooed the little baby to sleep.
The cow would say her ancestor offered milk to the wee child. And so on and so forth.
It was my fondest wish to hear this.
My parents did not spend Christmas Eve at home, generally, so neither of course did us children, my brother and I.
We went to the Webbs, a family who lives at the foot of Caldwell Mountain not far from where I grew up. These folks have been friends of my father’s for longer than I am old, and on Christmas Eve their house was full of loved ones.
The adults would pick guitars and sing carols while the young ones shrieked and chased each other up and down the stairs.
We were often joined by my aunt and uncle, who went with us for the singing, music and fun. My aunt, who is from Salem, tells me she has missed only one Christmas “in the country,” since 1970.
I remember a fireplace crackling merrily, the smell of chocolate chip cookies and the odoriferous wafting of the smell of cedar from the hand-hewn tree, fresh off the farm. There was lots of camaraderie and lots of noise.
Back at my house, I had a dog that I expected to speak at the appropriate hour, so my anxiety tended to grow as the evening wore on. Would we be home in time for me to hear the Christmas magic?
Generally speaking I think we were home by 11 p.m.
I, of course, was sent to bed almost immediately because Santa Claus was on his way and he would not stop for a little girl who did not go to bed.
Year after year I fell asleep before midnight. And finally, when I was almost too old to believe in myths anymore, I had the bright idea of taking the dog to bed with me and staying up to hear what he had to say.
I remember staring intently at Major, the white poodle, in the moonlight.
Waiting. And waiting.
The next thing I knew, my brother was shaking me. “Santa came! Get up!” he whispered.
And in the excitement of toys and presents around the tree, I forgot what I had been waiting for.
I remembered later in the day. I went to my mother with my complaint. “I don’t think the animals really talk,” I said, noting that there went another childhood fantasy out the window.
My mother hugged me. “Of course they do,” she said, pulling my hair from my face. “You fell asleep is all.”
I shook my head. “No Mama. I watched Major and he never said a thing.”
“Then you must have blinked.”
Surprised, I asked what she meant.
“Do you know exactly when night falls?” she said. “Or when the sun comes up and it is daylight? Can you catch those moments?”
I shook my head.
“If you miss the exact moment when it is midnight, that very second, then you can’t see the magic work,” she said.
“It’s just like catching the break of dawn.”
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Fire Station #9
Last Friday night, December 12, the firefighters at Station 9 with Roanoke City Fire-EMS got together for a Christmas meal.My husband is the one in the hat without a mustache.
I was told this get-together likely was a first for any station, because of course one of the three shifts always has to be on duty.
However, an off-duty crew from another station (I think it was Station 5 but I'm not 100 percent certain) stepped in to sub for the on-duty shift at Station 9 for a few hours so that the crews could all be together this one time.
Station 9, as I understand it, is slated for an early grave when Roanoke City builds a new station on that end of the city in the upcoming months. Things will not be the same for these guys, who are now working out of one of the older stations in the city.
My husband is a captain at Station 9 on B shift. The shifts work 24-hour days every other day with a four-day break. That means my husband goes in at 6:30 a.m. on Monday and comes home on Tuesday morning at 8 a.m., then he goes back to work on Wednesday morning and Friday morning and then he is off for four days (then he works Wednesday Friday Sunday, so his days are never the same. It can get confusing.).
I am very proud of my husband for reaching this pinnacle of his career. He has worked hard to reach this goal, which he stated to me before we married. "I want to make captain," he said when he took the job as a rookie firefighter.
He has been a firefighter for 25 years. It is a noble profession and I have been honored to watch the brotherhood of men who have served with my husband.
Over the years I have sent them many containers of fudge and cookies and cakes. Firemen have big appetites.
I cannot imagine what it takes to go into a burning building, to run a call on a vehicle accident when people have been torn in two, or how it feels to try to save someone who has had a heart attack. My husband, who is also an EMT, knows how all of that feels. I imagine sometimes it must be like a large lump weighing heavily on his heart.
Emergency services workers have a hard job. It's not one I could do. I salute them all for their efforts.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Holiday Lights
These light displays are all local to me. One is on Woodridge Road. The other is on Country Club Road, and the third is on Stoney Battery Road.
I shot these pictures Sunday night using a Nikon Coolpix 4600, which is a pocket camera I keep in the car for times when I don't have my other cameras with me. Some of the pictures are a little shaky because the car was running.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
I'm Just Sayin'
On Wednesday, I paid $1.25 per gallon for gas at the Citgo at Exit 150.
If you think I did a little dance when I inserted the credit card, you would be right.
Last night when I passed the station, it was $1.39. Climbing before the holidays because people will be traveling, right?
I bet it hits $2.50 by Christmas.
I can't do this with my work. I can't say, oh, today I am going to charge you $X.XX for an article. Two days later it will be $Y.YY. And in three weeks it will cost twice as much.
I haven't noticed the food prices falling as gasoline dropped. If that was the real reason the prices were climbing, then shouldn't a loaf of bread cost less?
I'm no economics major but the economic situation has smelled bad to me for months (if not several years). It seems to me like this is a lot of price manipulation that has absolutely nothing to do with truly being what a product is worth and more about how much somebody can get out of you.
And in some cases we're not being charged enough for things that really are worth more than we're paying, although I am hard pressed to come up with what that might be since I like to hold on to my money as much as anyone else. Art work comes to mind. Painters and writers and creative types who tend to eek out a living. Farmers, too, maybe. I'm sure there are others.
It's messed up, is all I'm saying. It's kind of discouraging.
If you think I did a little dance when I inserted the credit card, you would be right.
Last night when I passed the station, it was $1.39. Climbing before the holidays because people will be traveling, right?
I bet it hits $2.50 by Christmas.
I can't do this with my work. I can't say, oh, today I am going to charge you $X.XX for an article. Two days later it will be $Y.YY. And in three weeks it will cost twice as much.
I haven't noticed the food prices falling as gasoline dropped. If that was the real reason the prices were climbing, then shouldn't a loaf of bread cost less?
I'm no economics major but the economic situation has smelled bad to me for months (if not several years). It seems to me like this is a lot of price manipulation that has absolutely nothing to do with truly being what a product is worth and more about how much somebody can get out of you.
And in some cases we're not being charged enough for things that really are worth more than we're paying, although I am hard pressed to come up with what that might be since I like to hold on to my money as much as anyone else. Art work comes to mind. Painters and writers and creative types who tend to eek out a living. Farmers, too, maybe. I'm sure there are others.
It's messed up, is all I'm saying. It's kind of discouraging.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Christmas Meme
This came from RoanokeRNR, who invited people to take it so I can't say I stole it like the Grinch. I think this is more like Santa stealing into Sombre Town so the Burger Meister wouldn't catch him a la Santa Claus is Coming to Town...
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
I actually use both. This year I wrapped most things but there are other years when it all ends up in a gift bag.
2. Real tree or Artificial?
Artificial because I'm allergic to pine and cedar. One year we went through three real trees before we figured out we'd better just go to Sears and buy an artificial one.
3. When do you put up the tree?
Anytime after Thanksgiving. This year I had to wait until hunting season (rifle - deer) was over.
4. When do you take the tree down?
I have taken it down immediately after Christmas but generally try to wait until after January 1. There is some superstition about taking the tree down too early ... it brings bad luck or something ...
5. Do you like egg nog?
Not particularly. In this house we prefer boiled custard.
6. Favorite gift received as a child?
A wooden rocking chair.
7. Hardest person to buy for?
My in-laws both tie for first place. I never know what to get either one of them.
8. Easiest person to buy for?
My husband. I generally know what to get him.
9. Do you have a nativity scene?
Yes.
10. Mail or e-mail Christmas cards?
Both. I mail out a lot of cards and I also send email cards to a few people, mostly people I only know via the internet.
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
A vacuum. We needed a vacuum but it wasn't a very good thing to receive for Christmas.
12. Favorite Christmas movie?
I can't decide between It's a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol. I like them both.
13. When do you start shopping?
In September. That's the ideal, anyway. Some years it doesn't work out quite like that and it is more like December.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Yes, and that is all I'm going to say about that.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Chocolate covered cherries followed by fudge as a close second.
16. Lights on the tree?
Yes, multi-colored ones.
17. Favorite Christmas song?
I am not sure I have a favorite. I like them all depending on my mood. If I have to pick one, I vote for O Holy Night.
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
Stay home. I have never been anywhere but in the Roanoke Valley over Christmas. Sometimes I travel to a relatives house but they all live here so I am not going very far. Just once I would like to spend Christmas someplace else. Williamsburg or Disney in Florida, maybe.
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer?
Dasher Dancer Prancer Vixen Comet Cupid Donner Blitzen. And Rudolph. I can also recite a good portion of The Night Before Christmas from memory. And roll my tongue. But I can't wiggle my ears.
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?
When we were children my brother and I were allowed to open our present from one another on Christmas Eve. The rest were ripped open with vengeance on Christmas morning. These days we do the Christmas Day thing. No early opening for me anymore.
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?
That it starts so early. The stores push it too soon and I was not happy when one of the radio stations started playing carols a week before Thanksgiving. Let's get one holiday over before we start the next one!
23. Favorite ornament theme or color?
My favorite ornament says "First Christmas Together" and we've had it since we married. I love Santa Mouse and have a lot of little Santa Mouse ornaments on the tree. My favorite Santa Mouse in my house is one my friend Brenda gave me several years ago. My most favorite belongs to my parents, though.
24. Favorite Christmas memory?
My brother running into my room and waking me up at 3 a.m. whispering "Santa Claus came, get up!" Santa always left toys under the tree for us, unwrapped and waiting.
I also have a fond memory of the year I turned five and received a blue bicycle. A Batgirl doll was sitting on the seat when I arrived in the room.
25. What do you want for Christmas this year?
Peace on Earth.
If I can't have that, then I would like to instantaneously lose a lot of weight.
And if I can't have that, then I would like several good books to read.
1. Wrapping paper or gift bags?
I actually use both. This year I wrapped most things but there are other years when it all ends up in a gift bag.
2. Real tree or Artificial?
Artificial because I'm allergic to pine and cedar. One year we went through three real trees before we figured out we'd better just go to Sears and buy an artificial one.
3. When do you put up the tree?
Anytime after Thanksgiving. This year I had to wait until hunting season (rifle - deer) was over.
4. When do you take the tree down?
I have taken it down immediately after Christmas but generally try to wait until after January 1. There is some superstition about taking the tree down too early ... it brings bad luck or something ...
5. Do you like egg nog?
Not particularly. In this house we prefer boiled custard.
6. Favorite gift received as a child?
A wooden rocking chair.
7. Hardest person to buy for?
My in-laws both tie for first place. I never know what to get either one of them.
8. Easiest person to buy for?
My husband. I generally know what to get him.
9. Do you have a nativity scene?
Yes.
10. Mail or e-mail Christmas cards?
Both. I mail out a lot of cards and I also send email cards to a few people, mostly people I only know via the internet.
11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received?
A vacuum. We needed a vacuum but it wasn't a very good thing to receive for Christmas.
12. Favorite Christmas movie?
I can't decide between It's a Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol. I like them both.
13. When do you start shopping?
In September. That's the ideal, anyway. Some years it doesn't work out quite like that and it is more like December.
14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?
Yes, and that is all I'm going to say about that.
15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?
Chocolate covered cherries followed by fudge as a close second.
16. Lights on the tree?
Yes, multi-colored ones.
17. Favorite Christmas song?
I am not sure I have a favorite. I like them all depending on my mood. If I have to pick one, I vote for O Holy Night.
18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?
Stay home. I have never been anywhere but in the Roanoke Valley over Christmas. Sometimes I travel to a relatives house but they all live here so I am not going very far. Just once I would like to spend Christmas someplace else. Williamsburg or Disney in Florida, maybe.
19. Can you name all of Santa's reindeer?
Dasher Dancer Prancer Vixen Comet Cupid Donner Blitzen. And Rudolph. I can also recite a good portion of The Night Before Christmas from memory. And roll my tongue. But I can't wiggle my ears.
21. Open the presents Christmas Eve or morning?
When we were children my brother and I were allowed to open our present from one another on Christmas Eve. The rest were ripped open with vengeance on Christmas morning. These days we do the Christmas Day thing. No early opening for me anymore.
22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?
That it starts so early. The stores push it too soon and I was not happy when one of the radio stations started playing carols a week before Thanksgiving. Let's get one holiday over before we start the next one!
23. Favorite ornament theme or color?
My favorite ornament says "First Christmas Together" and we've had it since we married. I love Santa Mouse and have a lot of little Santa Mouse ornaments on the tree. My favorite Santa Mouse in my house is one my friend Brenda gave me several years ago. My most favorite belongs to my parents, though.
24. Favorite Christmas memory?
My brother running into my room and waking me up at 3 a.m. whispering "Santa Claus came, get up!" Santa always left toys under the tree for us, unwrapped and waiting.
I also have a fond memory of the year I turned five and received a blue bicycle. A Batgirl doll was sitting on the seat when I arrived in the room.
25. What do you want for Christmas this year?
Peace on Earth.
If I can't have that, then I would like to instantaneously lose a lot of weight.
And if I can't have that, then I would like several good books to read.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Thursday Thirteen
Good things about Christmas:
1. The reason for the season. My faith is a personal thing, and I am not a flagrant Christian by any stretch of the imagination, but the idea of a savior being born to save the world has great appeal.
2. Carols. I love the sounds of Christmas. They are happy sounds, generally. My favorites: Angels We Have Heard on High and Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
3. Lights. I like the way the streets are suddenly visible, lighting the way for wayward children, lost souls and the Lamb of God.
4. Decorations. Okay, so some of them are quite cheesy but I enjoy seeing what people put out. Santa Claus and snowmen and elves and mangers and everything else just add to the general whimsy of the winter.
5. Snow. I know its not necessarily a Christmas thing. Still, it is magical. And Christmas snow is especially magical even if I have never seen a dancing snowman.
6. Food. Some of the best (and most fattening) food comes at the holiday time. Cookies and cakes. Fudge (yum). I even like fruit cake (my husband adores Claxton fruit cakes). Boiled custard (another thing my husband adores). Turkey, ham, yams. Such a buffet!
7. Gift wrapping. Don't you love the designs, the bows, the colors? Or the act of spending time thinking about the people you love while you're wrapping?
8. The presents. I like the giving part - and the getting part, too. It would be dishonest to say I don't really like receiving presents. I enjoy giving things more, though. I like the long process of giving thought to each individual, trying to come up with something that is the perfect thing. Since I limit some of my gift buying to food, "green" items, books, music, and the arts, it is sometimes a challenge.
9. Get togethers. I am not a social butterfly but I enjoy meetings with friends, small parties, family time with relatives seldom seen. This year I have family coming in from Texas; I am looking forward to seeing them.
10. Cooking. This is the one time of the year I do a lot of baking and cooking that I normally have little time for. It's fun! This year I want to try gingerbread - and maybe even make a house! - if I can find a recipe.
11. TV specials. Around here, it is not the Christmas season until Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (the old version, the claymation one) has been watched by the two adults in the house. I also enjoy Santa Claus is Coming to Town and How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
12. The tree. This year we bought as special "25th anniversary" ornament to add to our tree. Our tree has firemen and farm equipment on it. I really need to find a typewriter ornament for myself. Maybe I could put a red ribbon around a pencil?
13. Holiday reading. This year in particular I seem to be gravitating toward to syrupy sweet holiday stories. They are nice stories and this is a good time of year to concentrate on "nice."
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.
1. The reason for the season. My faith is a personal thing, and I am not a flagrant Christian by any stretch of the imagination, but the idea of a savior being born to save the world has great appeal.
2. Carols. I love the sounds of Christmas. They are happy sounds, generally. My favorites: Angels We Have Heard on High and Hark the Herald Angels Sing.
3. Lights. I like the way the streets are suddenly visible, lighting the way for wayward children, lost souls and the Lamb of God.
4. Decorations. Okay, so some of them are quite cheesy but I enjoy seeing what people put out. Santa Claus and snowmen and elves and mangers and everything else just add to the general whimsy of the winter.
5. Snow. I know its not necessarily a Christmas thing. Still, it is magical. And Christmas snow is especially magical even if I have never seen a dancing snowman.
6. Food. Some of the best (and most fattening) food comes at the holiday time. Cookies and cakes. Fudge (yum). I even like fruit cake (my husband adores Claxton fruit cakes). Boiled custard (another thing my husband adores). Turkey, ham, yams. Such a buffet!
7. Gift wrapping. Don't you love the designs, the bows, the colors? Or the act of spending time thinking about the people you love while you're wrapping?
8. The presents. I like the giving part - and the getting part, too. It would be dishonest to say I don't really like receiving presents. I enjoy giving things more, though. I like the long process of giving thought to each individual, trying to come up with something that is the perfect thing. Since I limit some of my gift buying to food, "green" items, books, music, and the arts, it is sometimes a challenge.
9. Get togethers. I am not a social butterfly but I enjoy meetings with friends, small parties, family time with relatives seldom seen. This year I have family coming in from Texas; I am looking forward to seeing them.
10. Cooking. This is the one time of the year I do a lot of baking and cooking that I normally have little time for. It's fun! This year I want to try gingerbread - and maybe even make a house! - if I can find a recipe.
11. TV specials. Around here, it is not the Christmas season until Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (the old version, the claymation one) has been watched by the two adults in the house. I also enjoy Santa Claus is Coming to Town and How the Grinch Stole Christmas.
12. The tree. This year we bought as special "25th anniversary" ornament to add to our tree. Our tree has firemen and farm equipment on it. I really need to find a typewriter ornament for myself. Maybe I could put a red ribbon around a pencil?
13. Holiday reading. This year in particular I seem to be gravitating toward to syrupy sweet holiday stories. They are nice stories and this is a good time of year to concentrate on "nice."
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Christmas Promise
The Christmas Promise
By Donna VanLiere
Read by the author
Copyright 2007
This is a sentimental and sweet story about Gloria. She is a widow with four children, one of whom has been missing for the last seven years.
She has created a new life for herself based on service. She makes sure the homeless and other folks in need are helped as best as she can help them. She delivers food, takes in children, and offers counsel. She makes money by teaching basic life skills courses.
Miriam is her next door neighbor. She is not a kind person and she looks down on Gloria. After her house floods, though, she finds herself living with Gloria. And then with a pregnant lady who moves in with Gloria. And then with a five year old child who also moves in.
Chaz takes a new job at Wilson's Department Store. He is a very unhappy fellow.
The lives of the characters all collide with little surprise to the reader. Still, it might bring a tear to the eye.
The book offers Christmas hope and a few miracles. Not what I normally read or listen to, but I liked it well enough.
3 stars
By Donna VanLiere
Read by the author
Copyright 2007
This is a sentimental and sweet story about Gloria. She is a widow with four children, one of whom has been missing for the last seven years.
She has created a new life for herself based on service. She makes sure the homeless and other folks in need are helped as best as she can help them. She delivers food, takes in children, and offers counsel. She makes money by teaching basic life skills courses.
Miriam is her next door neighbor. She is not a kind person and she looks down on Gloria. After her house floods, though, she finds herself living with Gloria. And then with a pregnant lady who moves in with Gloria. And then with a five year old child who also moves in.
Chaz takes a new job at Wilson's Department Store. He is a very unhappy fellow.
The lives of the characters all collide with little surprise to the reader. Still, it might bring a tear to the eye.
The book offers Christmas hope and a few miracles. Not what I normally read or listen to, but I liked it well enough.
3 stars
Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull
The other night we watched Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.
Very good movie!
Lots of action, a little romance, plenty of mystery. Vintage Indiana Jones stuff, cleverly updated to the McCarthy times.
Recommended to all Indiana Jones fans.
4 stars
Very good movie!
Lots of action, a little romance, plenty of mystery. Vintage Indiana Jones stuff, cleverly updated to the McCarthy times.
Recommended to all Indiana Jones fans.
4 stars
Monday, December 08, 2008
Random Musings
Last week when I filled up the car with gas, I walked through what I thought was a mud puddle. It turned out to be a gas puddle.
I soaked the bottoms of my good sneakers in Dawn dish washing liquid and in white vinegar before I could stand to put them back on. I walked up and down the streets of Fincastle in them on Saturday and now they smell like asphalt and old apples.
***
Every year I lose a pair of scissors. I don't know where they go. Since I never find them again I guess they must somehow get up on their little pointy ends and tiptoe out of the house. I imagine them running down the driveway, breathless, trying to escape from the evil paper-cutting woman inside who dulls their edges.
Maybe then they make their way to some halfway house for escaped utensils and tools, where they hide out with an assortment of screwdrivers, hammers and silverware. Because they certainly are not here.
***
One of my friends (and a fellow blogger) and I have a great deal in common, from birthdays that are close to the cancer that took our mothers. She recently had surgery and has reported that she will have a large scar on her chest when the opening heals.
I have had a large scar on my chest since I was five years old. Weird!
I soaked the bottoms of my good sneakers in Dawn dish washing liquid and in white vinegar before I could stand to put them back on. I walked up and down the streets of Fincastle in them on Saturday and now they smell like asphalt and old apples.
***
Every year I lose a pair of scissors. I don't know where they go. Since I never find them again I guess they must somehow get up on their little pointy ends and tiptoe out of the house. I imagine them running down the driveway, breathless, trying to escape from the evil paper-cutting woman inside who dulls their edges.
Maybe then they make their way to some halfway house for escaped utensils and tools, where they hide out with an assortment of screwdrivers, hammers and silverware. Because they certainly are not here.
***
One of my friends (and a fellow blogger) and I have a great deal in common, from birthdays that are close to the cancer that took our mothers. She recently had surgery and has reported that she will have a large scar on her chest when the opening heals.
I have had a large scar on my chest since I was five years old. Weird!
Sunday, December 07, 2008
It was a parade!
Fincastle Christmas Parade 2008
The churches came to keep Christ in Christmas
The merry kazooers, townsfolk who always march along humming into their kazooes.
James River High School Band. They were decked out and sounding fine!
Lord Botetourt High School Band. Also decked out and sounding fine! (I have an affinity for the bands, having been a band member myself. I remember those cold marches!)
Sheriff Department's color guard.
LBHS flag girls
The fire departments and rescue squads were well represented.
Ol' St. Nick brought up the rear.
The churches came to keep Christ in Christmas
The merry kazooers, townsfolk who always march along humming into their kazooes.
James River High School Band. They were decked out and sounding fine!
Lord Botetourt High School Band. Also decked out and sounding fine! (I have an affinity for the bands, having been a band member myself. I remember those cold marches!)
Sheriff Department's color guard.
LBHS flag girls
The fire departments and rescue squads were well represented.
Ol' St. Nick brought up the rear.
Saturday, December 06, 2008
Christmas 1975
On a December Saturday in 1975, a day much like today, my parents dropped my brother and me off at my grandparents to stay the night.
Dad was the front singer in a Top 40 music band that in the 1970s was well known throughout the valley. It was called Music, Inc., and he and Mom were out most every weekend.
On this December night, I fell while playing with my brother and my two young uncles (I was 12; my uncles were 11 and 16; my brother was 9). My right wrist made a sickening noise as I hit the cement in the basement.
Grandpa rushed me to the emergency room, where x-rays revealed fractured bones. I returned home in a heavy cast. No Velcro removable cast for me; I don't think they made them at that time.
My mother had been informed of my accident and she came to get me instead of leaving me there for the night. She opened the door and walked into my grandparents living room. I saw her and promptly passed out cold in the floor.
The cast was burdensome. I couldn't participate in band class, where I was taking flute. I lost the first chair position to my nemesis, Angie. Every six weeks or so it seemed we swapped first chair position. Since I couldn't play it was no longer mine.
I was in the 7th grade. This was my first year for half-year exams (I wonder if they still give those). The cast had my fingers spread apart so that I couldn't hold a pencil (and I of course was right-handed). I tried to write with my left hand but the scrawl was so bad that my teachers opted to give me oral examinations.
Christmas Day came and went. I don't remember anything I received as a gift. A few days later, my mother and I sat in the living room trying to sort through gifts and put things back in order. My father and brother were out doing farm things.
My mother was depressed and in a very foul mood. I remember crying while we worked because her unhappiness was contagious. I was pretty useless with my arm in a cast, too.
A knock on the door startled us. The neighbor burst in the door. She had run all the way up the driveway, which was about 1/3 mile.
My father had run over my brother with the tractor. He had scooped him up and the neighbor's husband was driving them to the hospital.
I was still in my nightgown. My mother hustled me into the backseat along with some clothes and told me to change as we drove.
She sped quickly down what then was a dirt road and headed toward the hospital, going so fast that when she unexpectedly slid through a curve on Catawba Road I fell into the car door. I landed against my cast; the pain in my wrist was enormous. But I didn't say anything.
At the hospital, we found my father in tears. He had been scraping the dirt driveway with a scraper blade on the back end of the tractor. My brother had been riding on the blade. He fell between the blade and the rear tractor wheels. My father dragged him quite a ways before he heard my brother yelling "Daddy help me!"
When my father stopped the tractor and shut it off, the back wheels rolled backwards, up over my brother's chest.
My brother suffered a concussion, broken ribs and other injuries. As a result of his head injury, his eyes went crossed. He was in the hospital for at least a week.
I spent New Year's Day night with my grandparents. My father had a gig to play with his band and my mother was staying at Community Hospital with my brother.
Late that evening, my grandfather, who was 56 years old, said he wasn't feeling well. Not long after, he collapsed.
The ambulance came and he and my grandmother went to Lewis Gale Hospital. I tried to call my mother at the other hospital but the switch board wouldn't put me through to my brother's room, not even when I said it was an emergency. They told me I could reach her at 7 a.m.
I remember calling her right at 7 o'clock to tell her her father was sick.
About three hours later, my mother came into my grandparents house, crying. My grandfather on January 2, 1975, died of a heart attack.
My brother left the hospital in time to go the funeral but he did not. He was still a little boy, after all.
After months of therapy, his eyes straightened out. The rest of him seemed to be okay, too.
When my wrist continued to ache my mother took me to the doctor, where another x-ray showed I had broken it again. I was in a cast on that arm for about 12 weeks straight.
I'm not sure where that memory came from; I think it is the ache in my wrist today that reminded me the thing probably hurts for a reason. I don't think I've ever written about that dreadful time before.
But that was the holidays in 1975.
Dad was the front singer in a Top 40 music band that in the 1970s was well known throughout the valley. It was called Music, Inc., and he and Mom were out most every weekend.
On this December night, I fell while playing with my brother and my two young uncles (I was 12; my uncles were 11 and 16; my brother was 9). My right wrist made a sickening noise as I hit the cement in the basement.
Grandpa rushed me to the emergency room, where x-rays revealed fractured bones. I returned home in a heavy cast. No Velcro removable cast for me; I don't think they made them at that time.
My mother had been informed of my accident and she came to get me instead of leaving me there for the night. She opened the door and walked into my grandparents living room. I saw her and promptly passed out cold in the floor.
The cast was burdensome. I couldn't participate in band class, where I was taking flute. I lost the first chair position to my nemesis, Angie. Every six weeks or so it seemed we swapped first chair position. Since I couldn't play it was no longer mine.
I was in the 7th grade. This was my first year for half-year exams (I wonder if they still give those). The cast had my fingers spread apart so that I couldn't hold a pencil (and I of course was right-handed). I tried to write with my left hand but the scrawl was so bad that my teachers opted to give me oral examinations.
Christmas Day came and went. I don't remember anything I received as a gift. A few days later, my mother and I sat in the living room trying to sort through gifts and put things back in order. My father and brother were out doing farm things.
My mother was depressed and in a very foul mood. I remember crying while we worked because her unhappiness was contagious. I was pretty useless with my arm in a cast, too.
A knock on the door startled us. The neighbor burst in the door. She had run all the way up the driveway, which was about 1/3 mile.
My father had run over my brother with the tractor. He had scooped him up and the neighbor's husband was driving them to the hospital.
I was still in my nightgown. My mother hustled me into the backseat along with some clothes and told me to change as we drove.
She sped quickly down what then was a dirt road and headed toward the hospital, going so fast that when she unexpectedly slid through a curve on Catawba Road I fell into the car door. I landed against my cast; the pain in my wrist was enormous. But I didn't say anything.
At the hospital, we found my father in tears. He had been scraping the dirt driveway with a scraper blade on the back end of the tractor. My brother had been riding on the blade. He fell between the blade and the rear tractor wheels. My father dragged him quite a ways before he heard my brother yelling "Daddy help me!"
When my father stopped the tractor and shut it off, the back wheels rolled backwards, up over my brother's chest.
My brother suffered a concussion, broken ribs and other injuries. As a result of his head injury, his eyes went crossed. He was in the hospital for at least a week.
I spent New Year's Day night with my grandparents. My father had a gig to play with his band and my mother was staying at Community Hospital with my brother.
Late that evening, my grandfather, who was 56 years old, said he wasn't feeling well. Not long after, he collapsed.
The ambulance came and he and my grandmother went to Lewis Gale Hospital. I tried to call my mother at the other hospital but the switch board wouldn't put me through to my brother's room, not even when I said it was an emergency. They told me I could reach her at 7 a.m.
I remember calling her right at 7 o'clock to tell her her father was sick.
About three hours later, my mother came into my grandparents house, crying. My grandfather on January 2, 1975, died of a heart attack.
My brother left the hospital in time to go the funeral but he did not. He was still a little boy, after all.
After months of therapy, his eyes straightened out. The rest of him seemed to be okay, too.
When my wrist continued to ache my mother took me to the doctor, where another x-ray showed I had broken it again. I was in a cast on that arm for about 12 weeks straight.
I'm not sure where that memory came from; I think it is the ache in my wrist today that reminded me the thing probably hurts for a reason. I don't think I've ever written about that dreadful time before.
But that was the holidays in 1975.
Thursday, December 04, 2008
Thursday Thirteen
On the first day of Christmas, I went to the store.
I came home with a long two-by-four.
On the second day of Christmas, I stayed home in bed.
I pulled the covers over my head.
On the third day of Christmas, I thought that I should eat.
Chocolate is my favorite treat!
On the fourth day of Christmas, I camped out online
to buy all my presents on time.
On the fifth day of Christmas, I addressed the cards
That was not hard! Then I ate some chips, had a little dip, and then I nodded off at 8 p.m.!
On the sixth day of Christmas, I set out to buy
a present for my favorite guy.
On the seventh day of Christmas, I heard someone say
Hey, you, have a nice day!
On the eighth day of Christmas, I ran into a friend
who had just bought a new Mercedes Benz!
On the ninth day of Christmas, chocolate cherries called my name. And my diet was never the same!
On the tenth day of Christmas, I put up the tree
then I watched Rudolph on the TV.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, we turned on the colored lights.
We left them on all night.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my husband kissed me twice. I thought that it was really very nice!
On the thirteenth day of Christmas, I fell to my knees and prayed.
Because that is the reason for the day.
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.
I came home with a long two-by-four.
On the second day of Christmas, I stayed home in bed.
I pulled the covers over my head.
On the third day of Christmas, I thought that I should eat.
Chocolate is my favorite treat!
On the fourth day of Christmas, I camped out online
to buy all my presents on time.
On the fifth day of Christmas, I addressed the cards
That was not hard! Then I ate some chips, had a little dip, and then I nodded off at 8 p.m.!
On the sixth day of Christmas, I set out to buy
a present for my favorite guy.
On the seventh day of Christmas, I heard someone say
Hey, you, have a nice day!
On the eighth day of Christmas, I ran into a friend
who had just bought a new Mercedes Benz!
On the ninth day of Christmas, chocolate cherries called my name. And my diet was never the same!
On the tenth day of Christmas, I put up the tree
then I watched Rudolph on the TV.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, we turned on the colored lights.
We left them on all night.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my husband kissed me twice. I thought that it was really very nice!
On the thirteenth day of Christmas, I fell to my knees and prayed.
Because that is the reason for the day.
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
A Really Stupid (and bad) Movie
Last night we watched You Don't Mess with the Zohan, which stars Adam Sandler.
This was, hands down, one of the worst movies I have watched in a long time. If we hadn't ordered it on pay-per-view I'd have stopped watching after the first 10 minutes. As it was I picked up a book while my husband watched it.
Even James, who has a much higher tolerance for bad movies, said after 40 minutes that we just wasted $4 ordering that movie.
He likes Adam Sandler, generally, and has seen most if not all of his movies. I have always found them too stupid to endure for the most part. I can't think of a single one that I would watch a second time.
This movie was so sexist that I wanted to puke. The lead character treated women as if they were nothing but his personal sex toys. The debasement began in the first minute of the movie and continued throughout. If you have any respect for women, or if you find the objectification of women objectionable, then this movie is not for you.
The basic plot is Zohan is some super Israeli fighter who wants to be a hairdresser. He fakes his death and goes to New York. He meets a Palestinian hair dresser who gives him a chance and he turns the salon into a famous place (because of course the poor female hair dresser couldn't do it herself).
I think there was some message about people getting along there at the end and being peaceful but it was pretty much lost in the midst of all of the stupidity portrayed in the rest of the movie.
ZERO stars
This was, hands down, one of the worst movies I have watched in a long time. If we hadn't ordered it on pay-per-view I'd have stopped watching after the first 10 minutes. As it was I picked up a book while my husband watched it.
Even James, who has a much higher tolerance for bad movies, said after 40 minutes that we just wasted $4 ordering that movie.
He likes Adam Sandler, generally, and has seen most if not all of his movies. I have always found them too stupid to endure for the most part. I can't think of a single one that I would watch a second time.
This movie was so sexist that I wanted to puke. The lead character treated women as if they were nothing but his personal sex toys. The debasement began in the first minute of the movie and continued throughout. If you have any respect for women, or if you find the objectification of women objectionable, then this movie is not for you.
The basic plot is Zohan is some super Israeli fighter who wants to be a hairdresser. He fakes his death and goes to New York. He meets a Palestinian hair dresser who gives him a chance and he turns the salon into a famous place (because of course the poor female hair dresser couldn't do it herself).
I think there was some message about people getting along there at the end and being peaceful but it was pretty much lost in the midst of all of the stupidity portrayed in the rest of the movie.
ZERO stars
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Books: Blue Christmas
Blue Christmas
By Mary Kay Andrews
Audiobook
Read by Isabel Keating
Copyright ???
5 hours unabridged
Weezie owns an antique store in Savanah. She wants to win the historical district decorating contest and she especially wants to outdo the owners of the boutique across the way that keeps trying to put her out of business.
She comes up with a Blue Christmas theme for her window and takes first prize. Her boyfriend Daniel gave her the idea because he doesn't like the holiday. He owns a restaurant and must work all the time. Plus his mother left him at Christmas when he was young.
Weezie starts worrying about what is going on in her life when a stranger breaks into her apartment and eats all her food. Then little items start to go missing. She believes it a bag lady is helping herself, so Weezie leaves her little presents. The woman leaves Weezie presents in return.
It looks like it might not be a good holiday but all ends well.
This book was a little on the cute side but it wasn't bad. It kind of fits the season. I enjoyed the characters and the writing wasn't bad.
2.75 stars
By Mary Kay Andrews
Audiobook
Read by Isabel Keating
Copyright ???
5 hours unabridged
Weezie owns an antique store in Savanah. She wants to win the historical district decorating contest and she especially wants to outdo the owners of the boutique across the way that keeps trying to put her out of business.
She comes up with a Blue Christmas theme for her window and takes first prize. Her boyfriend Daniel gave her the idea because he doesn't like the holiday. He owns a restaurant and must work all the time. Plus his mother left him at Christmas when he was young.
Weezie starts worrying about what is going on in her life when a stranger breaks into her apartment and eats all her food. Then little items start to go missing. She believes it a bag lady is helping herself, so Weezie leaves her little presents. The woman leaves Weezie presents in return.
It looks like it might not be a good holiday but all ends well.
This book was a little on the cute side but it wasn't bad. It kind of fits the season. I enjoyed the characters and the writing wasn't bad.
2.75 stars
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Blue Christmas
Now that it is officially the Christmas season, I have a confession to make.
I am not that fond of this particular holiday. One reason is my estrangement with my father, which makes the season bittersweet and emotionally tiring.
In fact, when I sing carols, I sing "Deck the halls with Melancholy, fa la lala lalala there's no way I can be jolly..." which always earns me a "tsk tsk" from my husband.
He loves the holiday, so I try very hard to be joyful for him. I don't complain about the tree (if not for him I wouldn't bother) or the wrapping or the cards or the decorating. I do my best to get into it but I usually have at least one meltdown.
When I was a child the holiday was a time of great strife. My parents fought like insane rabid wolves this time of the year; I suppose they were cooped up in the house together too much. When your parents are yelling and throwing things at one another, it does not make for anything other than great trepidation. Certainly it does not lead to much in the way of anticipation when you're more worried if Dad will still be there in the morning than if Santa is coming.
It is cold and I worry a lot about folks who don't have a lot of money. I just know they are suffering.
Also, there is all of this crass commercialism and gimme gimme and I want I want I want, which I find to be a downer. I love to buy things for other people, or make things for them (I make pounds and pounds of fudge and give it away; I do enjoy doing that). But I really dislike being told "I expect this from you" unless I have specifically asked.
My husband has to work Christmas Eve this year. That day has always had more importance to me than the actual Christmas Day, and I enjoy going to the community Christmas service with him. That won't be happening this year.
I won't grumble about it again and from here on you'll probably think I just adore Christmas. I think it is a very sad holiday, though, and I hope I and others remember that many folks get the blues this time of year.
I am not that fond of this particular holiday. One reason is my estrangement with my father, which makes the season bittersweet and emotionally tiring.
In fact, when I sing carols, I sing "Deck the halls with Melancholy, fa la lala lalala there's no way I can be jolly..." which always earns me a "tsk tsk" from my husband.
He loves the holiday, so I try very hard to be joyful for him. I don't complain about the tree (if not for him I wouldn't bother) or the wrapping or the cards or the decorating. I do my best to get into it but I usually have at least one meltdown.
When I was a child the holiday was a time of great strife. My parents fought like insane rabid wolves this time of the year; I suppose they were cooped up in the house together too much. When your parents are yelling and throwing things at one another, it does not make for anything other than great trepidation. Certainly it does not lead to much in the way of anticipation when you're more worried if Dad will still be there in the morning than if Santa is coming.
It is cold and I worry a lot about folks who don't have a lot of money. I just know they are suffering.
Also, there is all of this crass commercialism and gimme gimme and I want I want I want, which I find to be a downer. I love to buy things for other people, or make things for them (I make pounds and pounds of fudge and give it away; I do enjoy doing that). But I really dislike being told "I expect this from you" unless I have specifically asked.
My husband has to work Christmas Eve this year. That day has always had more importance to me than the actual Christmas Day, and I enjoy going to the community Christmas service with him. That won't be happening this year.
I won't grumble about it again and from here on you'll probably think I just adore Christmas. I think it is a very sad holiday, though, and I hope I and others remember that many folks get the blues this time of year.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving Thirteen
1. I am so thankful for the turkey, in the oven cooking.
2. I am thankful for my husband, who still calls me "good looking."
3. I am thankful for my little house, which keeps me nice and warm.
4. I am thankful for my little car which keeps me safe from harm.
5. I am thankful for my many friends, so dear and kind and true.
6. I am thankful for another day so I can to write to you!
7. I am thankful for my telephone, with calls to loves and friends
8. I am thankful for the gift of time so I can make amends
9. I am thankful for another day to tread upon this land
10. I am thankful for the beaches and their thousand grains of sand.
11. I am thankful for good chocolate and the teeth with which to eat
12. I am thankful for my table and for the upcoming turkey feast!
13. And finally, I am thankful on this great Thanksgiving Day
That here I have a place to list the grace that comes my way.
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.
2. I am thankful for my husband, who still calls me "good looking."
3. I am thankful for my little house, which keeps me nice and warm.
4. I am thankful for my little car which keeps me safe from harm.
5. I am thankful for my many friends, so dear and kind and true.
6. I am thankful for another day so I can to write to you!
7. I am thankful for my telephone, with calls to loves and friends
8. I am thankful for the gift of time so I can make amends
9. I am thankful for another day to tread upon this land
10. I am thankful for the beaches and their thousand grains of sand.
11. I am thankful for good chocolate and the teeth with which to eat
12. I am thankful for my table and for the upcoming turkey feast!
13. And finally, I am thankful on this great Thanksgiving Day
That here I have a place to list the grace that comes my way.
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Remembering Karen Carpenter
Karen Carpenter of The Carpenters was one of my favorite singers.
Every year I enjoy hearing her Christmas carols. Her songs remind me of my teenage years. I grew up on this voice. All I wanted to do was sing like Karen Carpenter.
What a shame she was unable to enjoy her work and live to see a long life.
She died at the age of 32 from complications from anorexia. I remember hearing of her death; I was home sick myself with mono at the time.
I have watched footage of Karen in concert. She really seemed happiest when she was playing drums instead of singing. She has a perfect voice, though. I am glad she was able to share it with the world.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
And it became this column
On Friday, as I fretted over a column for the weekly paper, I blogged about my frustrations and inability to find a topic.
Since a number of my gentle readers offered suggestions, I thought I would share what I ended up with. I wrote this Sunday night and it is in The Fincastle Herald today (the issue printed early because of the holiday).
***
Botetourt County has a great deal for which I am thankful. I thought for the upcoming turkey day I would run down a list. Here you go, in no particular order:
Great views. There is hardly a place here where you can’t see something lovely. You might have to look over the rooftops of a few buildings to see a mountain, but they are there.
I include the towns and the many communities in with the great views. They all offer something unique to see. Aside from Fincastle (the county seat), Buchanan and Troutville, check out Eagle Rock, Glen Wilton, Daleville/Amsterdam, Blue Ridge, and Cloverdale. You’ll be amazed at what you find.
Rural landscape. The farmland we have remaining is a blessing. I am very grateful to the farmers who continue to till, plow and keep the fields. If it were not for them, we would have rows and rows of homes and scarcely a bucolic plot to play in. Thankfully, the rural nature remains in many areas of the county. There are even a few fields in southern Botetourt.
We also have a National Forest land, which is wonderful for protecting the land and the rural nature of the county. Can we ever have too many trees?
Locally owned. I am very glad we have locally owned restaurants and shops. I can spend a whole day shopping here if I want, and come away with unique items. While I’m doing it, I can eat at a unique restaurant.
Some places to check out include Meggie’s Mercantile, the Tin Roof, the Apple Barn, Three Li’l Pigs restaurant, Three Graces, and the new Pomegranite restaurant in Troutville (haven’t eaten there yet but it’s on my list). You can also try Ikenberry Orchards and the Botetourt Family Farmers Market, have a snack at Blue Collar Joe’s, buy gifts at Southern Past Times, visit the county’s floral shops, patron a number of arts and crafts people, including galleries in Buchanan, and spend money at many other places, more than I can list.
Historic properties. I am glad that in the 1960s some folks had the foresight and courage to begin preserving the ancient structures in the towns and elsewhere. Had they not done so, many of the buildings that look so Botetourt would not exist. These places tell tales and help us remember where we came from. They give the place character and keep it from looking like any ol’ exit off the interstate.
Kudos to the Town of Buchanan for the great job they’re doing in keeping its Main Street alive and thriving. Every time I go into town, I see something I think is cool. I am thankful the town has survived.
The people. Folks in Botetourt are great. They give wholeheartedly, they care about one another and they keep each other straight. When Mary Lou Mullis at Social Services called me last week to tell me they had received an outpouring of love and support for their Angel Tree and the Fuel Assistance program, I nearly cried. How great is it that when there is a need, folks respond?
My ancestry. This is different from the properties and more personal. My family has been in the county for 200 years. My roots here are deep and long. I have cousins and great-aunts and uncles and all kinds of family living here. Some of them I don’t know and some might not claim me, but we have a blood line and there’s a bond there whether it’s acknowledged or not.
It’s the kind of thing that can create a surprise when you realize you share a great-great-grandmother with the person you’re talking to.
I am particularly grateful for my ancestry because it brought me my husband, in a round about way.
I will never forget the day my husband’s great aunt, Lenna Etzler, told us we were cousins. We laughed about it and then dismissed it.
Then I did our family tree. Gads, there we were on the same line, sharing a set of great-great-great-great- grandparents. Cousins sure enough, though a very long way back.
If folks have lived in the county for any length of time, most likely they share a common ancestor or two. It can make for a fine hour of conversation.
It’s just another thing I’m thankful for while I live in Botetourt County. I hope you’re thankful that you live here, too.
Since a number of my gentle readers offered suggestions, I thought I would share what I ended up with. I wrote this Sunday night and it is in The Fincastle Herald today (the issue printed early because of the holiday).
***
Botetourt County has a great deal for which I am thankful. I thought for the upcoming turkey day I would run down a list. Here you go, in no particular order:
Great views. There is hardly a place here where you can’t see something lovely. You might have to look over the rooftops of a few buildings to see a mountain, but they are there.
I include the towns and the many communities in with the great views. They all offer something unique to see. Aside from Fincastle (the county seat), Buchanan and Troutville, check out Eagle Rock, Glen Wilton, Daleville/Amsterdam, Blue Ridge, and Cloverdale. You’ll be amazed at what you find.
Rural landscape. The farmland we have remaining is a blessing. I am very grateful to the farmers who continue to till, plow and keep the fields. If it were not for them, we would have rows and rows of homes and scarcely a bucolic plot to play in. Thankfully, the rural nature remains in many areas of the county. There are even a few fields in southern Botetourt.
We also have a National Forest land, which is wonderful for protecting the land and the rural nature of the county. Can we ever have too many trees?
Locally owned. I am very glad we have locally owned restaurants and shops. I can spend a whole day shopping here if I want, and come away with unique items. While I’m doing it, I can eat at a unique restaurant.
Some places to check out include Meggie’s Mercantile, the Tin Roof, the Apple Barn, Three Li’l Pigs restaurant, Three Graces, and the new Pomegranite restaurant in Troutville (haven’t eaten there yet but it’s on my list). You can also try Ikenberry Orchards and the Botetourt Family Farmers Market, have a snack at Blue Collar Joe’s, buy gifts at Southern Past Times, visit the county’s floral shops, patron a number of arts and crafts people, including galleries in Buchanan, and spend money at many other places, more than I can list.
Historic properties. I am glad that in the 1960s some folks had the foresight and courage to begin preserving the ancient structures in the towns and elsewhere. Had they not done so, many of the buildings that look so Botetourt would not exist. These places tell tales and help us remember where we came from. They give the place character and keep it from looking like any ol’ exit off the interstate.
Kudos to the Town of Buchanan for the great job they’re doing in keeping its Main Street alive and thriving. Every time I go into town, I see something I think is cool. I am thankful the town has survived.
The people. Folks in Botetourt are great. They give wholeheartedly, they care about one another and they keep each other straight. When Mary Lou Mullis at Social Services called me last week to tell me they had received an outpouring of love and support for their Angel Tree and the Fuel Assistance program, I nearly cried. How great is it that when there is a need, folks respond?
My ancestry. This is different from the properties and more personal. My family has been in the county for 200 years. My roots here are deep and long. I have cousins and great-aunts and uncles and all kinds of family living here. Some of them I don’t know and some might not claim me, but we have a blood line and there’s a bond there whether it’s acknowledged or not.
It’s the kind of thing that can create a surprise when you realize you share a great-great-grandmother with the person you’re talking to.
I am particularly grateful for my ancestry because it brought me my husband, in a round about way.
I will never forget the day my husband’s great aunt, Lenna Etzler, told us we were cousins. We laughed about it and then dismissed it.
Then I did our family tree. Gads, there we were on the same line, sharing a set of great-great-great-great- grandparents. Cousins sure enough, though a very long way back.
If folks have lived in the county for any length of time, most likely they share a common ancestor or two. It can make for a fine hour of conversation.
It’s just another thing I’m thankful for while I live in Botetourt County. I hope you’re thankful that you live here, too.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Villanelles & Sestinas
I do not have time for poetry much anymore. One of my favorite poem styles is the villanelle.
Probably the most famous villanelle Dylan Thomas's Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night, a poem about his father's passing.
Here are the poetic stanzas for a villanelle:
Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 2 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 4 (a)
Line 5 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 7 (a)
Line 8 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 10 (a)
Line 11 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 13 (a)
Line 14 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 16 (a)
Line 17 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Refrain 2 (A2)
I have always enjoyed trying to write poetry to a form. Free verse certainly has its place but there seems to me something musical about a poem written with rhyme, half-rhyme, repeating words, etc.
Another favorite poem form is the sestina. It doesn't rhyme, usually, although it can, I guess. Generally what happens is the last word is repeated in various places along the six-line stanzas, like this:
Stanza 1: 1 2 3 4 5 6
Stanza 2: 6 1 5 2 4 3
Stanza 3: 3 6 4 1 2 5
Stanza 4: 5 3 2 6 1 4
Stanza 5: 4 5 1 3 6 2
Stanza 6: 2 4 6 5 3 1
Tercet: Variable.
Ezra Pound wrote some setinas, as did Rudyard Kipling.
Sometimes I have poetry run through my mind, or maybe just a line, and I think, that would make a good sestina. Or a good villanelle.
These kinds of poems can take a long time to write. My poetry never seems finished to me, so I don't often share it.
Maybe one day soon I will find some time to try to write a few poems. I think that would be divine.
Probably the most famous villanelle Dylan Thomas's Do Not Go Gentle into that Good Night, a poem about his father's passing.
Here are the poetic stanzas for a villanelle:
Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 2 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 4 (a)
Line 5 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 7 (a)
Line 8 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 10 (a)
Line 11 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Line 13 (a)
Line 14 (b)
Refrain 2 (A2)
Line 16 (a)
Line 17 (b)
Refrain 1 (A1)
Refrain 2 (A2)
I have always enjoyed trying to write poetry to a form. Free verse certainly has its place but there seems to me something musical about a poem written with rhyme, half-rhyme, repeating words, etc.
Another favorite poem form is the sestina. It doesn't rhyme, usually, although it can, I guess. Generally what happens is the last word is repeated in various places along the six-line stanzas, like this:
Stanza 1: 1 2 3 4 5 6
Stanza 2: 6 1 5 2 4 3
Stanza 3: 3 6 4 1 2 5
Stanza 4: 5 3 2 6 1 4
Stanza 5: 4 5 1 3 6 2
Stanza 6: 2 4 6 5 3 1
Tercet: Variable.
Ezra Pound wrote some setinas, as did Rudyard Kipling.
Sometimes I have poetry run through my mind, or maybe just a line, and I think, that would make a good sestina. Or a good villanelle.
These kinds of poems can take a long time to write. My poetry never seems finished to me, so I don't often share it.
Maybe one day soon I will find some time to try to write a few poems. I think that would be divine.
Friday, November 21, 2008
It's the Columns
My job is to write.
Every week I pound out not just one but a lot of articles.
This week I wrote six. Last week I wrote eight.
The hardest stories are not the ones about government or poverty (though the latter can be terribly heart wrenching) or the features on people who do noteworthy things.
No, the hardest stories are the ones I am supposed to write about me. I have column space to fill and I find that to be the hardest task of all.
Because what is there to say, after all? I've not been up in space or climbed mountains (unless you count a drive over Caldwell Mountain or Catawba Mountain on occasion). I've not jumped into a freezing pond to rescue a child, or breathed life into a heart attack victim.
I do drink tea and chew gum and breathe air, which means that I generally focus on the finer, minute parts of living for my lifestyle column. Those things that folks who are busy often forget, perhaps. I can do that.
But some days (and today is surely one of them) I can't think of a darned thing to write.
It's 4:20 p.m. I have a 5 p.m. deadline (self-imposed; it's really Monday morning but I didn't want to work this weekend).
I need a topic!
Every week I pound out not just one but a lot of articles.
This week I wrote six. Last week I wrote eight.
The hardest stories are not the ones about government or poverty (though the latter can be terribly heart wrenching) or the features on people who do noteworthy things.
No, the hardest stories are the ones I am supposed to write about me. I have column space to fill and I find that to be the hardest task of all.
Because what is there to say, after all? I've not been up in space or climbed mountains (unless you count a drive over Caldwell Mountain or Catawba Mountain on occasion). I've not jumped into a freezing pond to rescue a child, or breathed life into a heart attack victim.
I do drink tea and chew gum and breathe air, which means that I generally focus on the finer, minute parts of living for my lifestyle column. Those things that folks who are busy often forget, perhaps. I can do that.
But some days (and today is surely one of them) I can't think of a darned thing to write.
It's 4:20 p.m. I have a 5 p.m. deadline (self-imposed; it's really Monday morning but I didn't want to work this weekend).
I need a topic!
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Books: A Redbird Christmas
A RedBird Christmas
By Fannie Flagg
Copyright 2004
Read by Fannie Flagg
I really like Fannie Flagg's work, and this was no exception. Oswald Campbell lives in Chicago and his doctor tells him to go live somewhere else or the air will kill him.
He moves to Lost River, Alabama, where he meets Roy, Frances, Patsy, and Jack the redbird who lives in the grocery store.
The characters are great and the book is very well written.
This is a sweet and warm book, very heartwarming for Christmas time. If you're looking for something that says the world will be okay, this book will do it.
Highly recommended if you like books about small town folks.
4 stars
By Fannie Flagg
Copyright 2004
Read by Fannie Flagg
I really like Fannie Flagg's work, and this was no exception. Oswald Campbell lives in Chicago and his doctor tells him to go live somewhere else or the air will kill him.
He moves to Lost River, Alabama, where he meets Roy, Frances, Patsy, and Jack the redbird who lives in the grocery store.
The characters are great and the book is very well written.
This is a sweet and warm book, very heartwarming for Christmas time. If you're looking for something that says the world will be okay, this book will do it.
Highly recommended if you like books about small town folks.
4 stars
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Our Silver Anniversary
Today I have been married for 25 years. That's more than half of my life.
We have been very happy. I think we knew almost from the moment we met that we would end up together.
We met on October 15, 1982 at a Lord Botetourt High School football game. I had graduated from high school a year earlier; he graduated in 1977. We stood under the goal post and chatted. He asked me out that night.
Our wedding day, November 18, 1983, was a cold Friday; I remember snow flurries. Our nuptials took place at the Daleville Church of the Brethren with a reception at the Botetourt Country Club.
The honey moon was at a B&B in Warm Springs; just two nights. We were back by Sunday.
In 1987 we built the house we live in now. And I mean we built it, hammer in hand. Mostly James built it, so his heart and soul is in every nail. He made us a good, strong home.
In the last 25 years he has moved up the ladder at the Roanoke City Fire-EMS where he works. With his help I went to Hollins College and received my B.A. in English in 1993. He encouraged me to quit my job with an attorney and try freelancing. I never looked back.
We are not rich in the monetary sense of the word but we are exquisitely happy with one another. Our biggest shadow was my inability to have children; those six years of trying to conceive remain our main sorrow. Thankfully we have four nephews and a niece to spoil. It eases the sadness most of the time.
We argue some, but we usually resolve our issues. Mostly we just love each other. To this day we hold hands when we are shopping.
We even hold hands when we're sitting on the sofa watching TV.
I consider myself blessed to have met this man and married him. I am so thankful we have been together all of these years.
Happy Silver Anniversary, my wonderful guy!
We have been very happy. I think we knew almost from the moment we met that we would end up together.
We met on October 15, 1982 at a Lord Botetourt High School football game. I had graduated from high school a year earlier; he graduated in 1977. We stood under the goal post and chatted. He asked me out that night.
Our wedding day, November 18, 1983, was a cold Friday; I remember snow flurries. Our nuptials took place at the Daleville Church of the Brethren with a reception at the Botetourt Country Club.
The honey moon was at a B&B in Warm Springs; just two nights. We were back by Sunday.
In 1987 we built the house we live in now. And I mean we built it, hammer in hand. Mostly James built it, so his heart and soul is in every nail. He made us a good, strong home.
In the last 25 years he has moved up the ladder at the Roanoke City Fire-EMS where he works. With his help I went to Hollins College and received my B.A. in English in 1993. He encouraged me to quit my job with an attorney and try freelancing. I never looked back.
We are not rich in the monetary sense of the word but we are exquisitely happy with one another. Our biggest shadow was my inability to have children; those six years of trying to conceive remain our main sorrow. Thankfully we have four nephews and a niece to spoil. It eases the sadness most of the time.
We argue some, but we usually resolve our issues. Mostly we just love each other. To this day we hold hands when we are shopping.
We even hold hands when we're sitting on the sofa watching TV.
I consider myself blessed to have met this man and married him. I am so thankful we have been together all of these years.
Happy Silver Anniversary, my wonderful guy!
Monday, November 17, 2008
Another Q&A Meme
I swiped this from someone's blog; I've lost the link, though. I found it while I was blog-hopping.
1. What do you do before bedtime?
I read. The TV is usually on but I am not the one watching it.
2. What is your favorite sound?
My husband's voice. There is something about the way he calls for me that makes a lump form in my throat.
My non-human favorite sound is... silence. The absolute stillness of the day, when nothing is moving but you know that if you breathe hard something will happen - thunder will clap, the leaves will shake.
3. What were your childhood fears?
I feared my parents were going to put me in the crazy house and leave me. Unfortunately this was one of my mother's favorite threats; I think it is akin to being told the raggedy man is going to come and get you, a ghost story told around these parts after the Civil War. This was just an updated version.
4. What place have you visited that you can't forget and want to go back?
New York. I am not a city girl but I visited this metropolis when I was teenager and was entranced. I would love to go back as an adult and see it all over again. I visited China Town and have never forgotten the sweet and sour shrimp I ate there; nothing in this area has ever duplicated that taste.
5. What has made you unhappy these days?
I worry about the economy but that is out of my control. I also fear growing old and dying; I think the deaths this year of three of my great aunts has brought mortality home to me in a very strong way.
I also fret about my weight which I know needs to be, well, less.
6. What websites do you visit daily?
Blue Country Magic and Botetourt County News Blog, which are my own blogs, Spatter, Roanoke RnR, Loose Leaf Notes, Peevish Pen, sweetfluttersby - most of the bloggers in my blogging list who write daily or near daily. I recently added my Facebook page to my list of "visit every day" sites; I still can't decide if I like Facebook or not.
7. What’s the last song that got stuck in your head?
The Space Cowboy aka The Joker by Steve Miller Band. Here's an interesting youtube version of it. Here's a video of the whole song.
8. What’s your favorite item of clothing?
I have an aged blue sports jacket that I have worn out to the point that the sleeves are nearly gone from it. I call it "blue thing." My husband recently bought me a gray sports jacket to replace that one; I call it "gray thing." I'm still breaking it in.
Aside from that, I love to sit around in sweats and a t-shirt. Give me comfort over looks any day.
9. What is your dream for the future?
To publish a book. That is probably a silly dream but there you go. One day I want to walk into Barnes & Noble and find myself on the shelf.
I would also like to be healthy and live a nice long life with my husband. When we are really old I want us in the same room at the old folks' home so we can always hold hands.
For the nation, my dream is that we find our common ground again. I know it is there somewhere if we could all only get past our egos long enough to look.
My apologies to whomever I lifted this from. I am not tagging anyone, but if you'd like to give it a try, be my guest.
1. What do you do before bedtime?
I read. The TV is usually on but I am not the one watching it.
2. What is your favorite sound?
My husband's voice. There is something about the way he calls for me that makes a lump form in my throat.
My non-human favorite sound is... silence. The absolute stillness of the day, when nothing is moving but you know that if you breathe hard something will happen - thunder will clap, the leaves will shake.
3. What were your childhood fears?
I feared my parents were going to put me in the crazy house and leave me. Unfortunately this was one of my mother's favorite threats; I think it is akin to being told the raggedy man is going to come and get you, a ghost story told around these parts after the Civil War. This was just an updated version.
4. What place have you visited that you can't forget and want to go back?
New York. I am not a city girl but I visited this metropolis when I was teenager and was entranced. I would love to go back as an adult and see it all over again. I visited China Town and have never forgotten the sweet and sour shrimp I ate there; nothing in this area has ever duplicated that taste.
5. What has made you unhappy these days?
I worry about the economy but that is out of my control. I also fear growing old and dying; I think the deaths this year of three of my great aunts has brought mortality home to me in a very strong way.
I also fret about my weight which I know needs to be, well, less.
6. What websites do you visit daily?
Blue Country Magic and Botetourt County News Blog, which are my own blogs, Spatter, Roanoke RnR, Loose Leaf Notes, Peevish Pen, sweetfluttersby - most of the bloggers in my blogging list who write daily or near daily. I recently added my Facebook page to my list of "visit every day" sites; I still can't decide if I like Facebook or not.
7. What’s the last song that got stuck in your head?
The Space Cowboy aka The Joker by Steve Miller Band. Here's an interesting youtube version of it. Here's a video of the whole song.
8. What’s your favorite item of clothing?
I have an aged blue sports jacket that I have worn out to the point that the sleeves are nearly gone from it. I call it "blue thing." My husband recently bought me a gray sports jacket to replace that one; I call it "gray thing." I'm still breaking it in.
Aside from that, I love to sit around in sweats and a t-shirt. Give me comfort over looks any day.
9. What is your dream for the future?
To publish a book. That is probably a silly dream but there you go. One day I want to walk into Barnes & Noble and find myself on the shelf.
I would also like to be healthy and live a nice long life with my husband. When we are really old I want us in the same room at the old folks' home so we can always hold hands.
For the nation, my dream is that we find our common ground again. I know it is there somewhere if we could all only get past our egos long enough to look.
My apologies to whomever I lifted this from. I am not tagging anyone, but if you'd like to give it a try, be my guest.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Jumping the Shark
I do not watch much TV and I make no apologies for that.
If I have to relax or just waste time, I would rather do it while reading a book. If I must do something else, then I prefer the computer to the TV. At least playing a video game gives you the illusion of doing something.
I am loyal to just a few shows. At the moment, I am watching Ghost Whisperer, Legend of the Seeker, and Survivor.
Ghost Whisper has jumped the shark, or so it appears. I am withholding actual judgment on this until I see how the latest story line, which involves the death of Melinda's husband and his return as a ghost and now as a ghost in the body of a dead man, is completed.
This is looking pretty shark-worthy, even if this story line has apparently increased the show's audience.
Ghost Whisperer is in its fourth season.
Legend of the Seeker is based on Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth fantasy series. The show is brought to us courtesy of Sam Raimi and Rob Tapert, the Renaissance team that gave us Hercules and Xena: Warrior Princess.
I was a great fan of both those shows. I don't know that Hercules ever really jumped the shark although I recall that several of its last seasons were rather dark.
Xena jumped the shark in season 3 by some estimates and for sure in Season 5.
Legend of the Seeker is not staying true to the books, a fact which rankles my husband. We listened to Goodkind's books over the last 10 years on audiobooks and my husband enjoyed them. To my knowledge they are the only works of fiction he has "read" since school.
He has been unhappy with the show's inability to adhere to the books. I told him book readers deal with this all the time when their stories are transformed to screen.
"The books would have made a good series, they didn't have to make all these changes," he growls on the nights we watch the show.
Legend of the Seeker reminds me of Hercules more so than Xena. Xena's music creator, Jo LoDuca, has done the score for this show, and I recognize many of the names from casting and directors when the credits role. It has the same feel as Hercules in its characters.
I guess that is what happens when you are Xena:Warrior Princess fan and you read the credits. There was a time when I could have named a long list of people associated with that particular show though I thankfully have forgotten most of that trivia now.
As best I can tell Legend has only nine episodes created. I suppose if the show has decent ratings it will move forward.
I have always been a fan of fantasy shows (as opposed to SF shows like Star Trek, though I like those, too). There hasn't been a fantasy that I really enjoyed since Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Xena were on so I have been looking forward to this new Legend series. So far it is okay although I am not engaging with the characters as much as I would like. Still, I recommend it to fans of the genre in the hopes it will grow on me.
Survivor has been around forever and I have watched every season although I honestly don't know why I do. The shows are so unremarkable that there are only a very few contestants that I recall with any clarity.
Yet I make a point of watching it every Thursday night, so there must be something to it. It is the only reality show I watch.
This year I am not a fan of any of the contestants, which means I am rooting more for people to get tossed out of the game than I am for someone to win.
I think Survivor probably jumped the shark long ago but I couldn't begin to identify when that was.
Anyway, those are my current TV-watching habits. Three hours a week. I also have the news on when I'm cooking dinner and I sometimes sit down to watch a movie, but not very often.
It takes a very good movie to make me put down my book.
If I have to relax or just waste time, I would rather do it while reading a book. If I must do something else, then I prefer the computer to the TV. At least playing a video game gives you the illusion of doing something.
I am loyal to just a few shows. At the moment, I am watching Ghost Whisperer, Legend of the Seeker, and Survivor.
Ghost Whisper has jumped the shark, or so it appears. I am withholding actual judgment on this until I see how the latest story line, which involves the death of Melinda's husband and his return as a ghost and now as a ghost in the body of a dead man, is completed.
This is looking pretty shark-worthy, even if this story line has apparently increased the show's audience.
Ghost Whisperer is in its fourth season.
Legend of the Seeker is based on Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth fantasy series. The show is brought to us courtesy of Sam Raimi and Rob Tapert, the Renaissance team that gave us Hercules and Xena: Warrior Princess.
I was a great fan of both those shows. I don't know that Hercules ever really jumped the shark although I recall that several of its last seasons were rather dark.
Xena jumped the shark in season 3 by some estimates and for sure in Season 5.
Legend of the Seeker is not staying true to the books, a fact which rankles my husband. We listened to Goodkind's books over the last 10 years on audiobooks and my husband enjoyed them. To my knowledge they are the only works of fiction he has "read" since school.
He has been unhappy with the show's inability to adhere to the books. I told him book readers deal with this all the time when their stories are transformed to screen.
"The books would have made a good series, they didn't have to make all these changes," he growls on the nights we watch the show.
Legend of the Seeker reminds me of Hercules more so than Xena. Xena's music creator, Jo LoDuca, has done the score for this show, and I recognize many of the names from casting and directors when the credits role. It has the same feel as Hercules in its characters.
I guess that is what happens when you are Xena:Warrior Princess fan and you read the credits. There was a time when I could have named a long list of people associated with that particular show though I thankfully have forgotten most of that trivia now.
As best I can tell Legend has only nine episodes created. I suppose if the show has decent ratings it will move forward.
I have always been a fan of fantasy shows (as opposed to SF shows like Star Trek, though I like those, too). There hasn't been a fantasy that I really enjoyed since Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Xena were on so I have been looking forward to this new Legend series. So far it is okay although I am not engaging with the characters as much as I would like. Still, I recommend it to fans of the genre in the hopes it will grow on me.
Survivor has been around forever and I have watched every season although I honestly don't know why I do. The shows are so unremarkable that there are only a very few contestants that I recall with any clarity.
Yet I make a point of watching it every Thursday night, so there must be something to it. It is the only reality show I watch.
This year I am not a fan of any of the contestants, which means I am rooting more for people to get tossed out of the game than I am for someone to win.
I think Survivor probably jumped the shark long ago but I couldn't begin to identify when that was.
Anyway, those are my current TV-watching habits. Three hours a week. I also have the news on when I'm cooking dinner and I sometimes sit down to watch a movie, but not very often.
It takes a very good movie to make me put down my book.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Desperate Need
The weather’s colder. Money is tighter. Appalachian Power just announced a major increase in the electricity bill.
This time of year is downright hard for folks who are having trouble with their finances. Add a predicted recession to that and you have a recipe for cold feet, ill health and plenty of woe.
The Fuel Assistance Program run by the Botetourt County Department of Social Services currently has no money in it. Folks who need a little help with their light bill or their heat have nowhere to turn.
Donations are way down.
“We are in desperate need. We have no money,” Social Services Director Mary Lou Mullis said.
The program helps people out with a one-time payment for fuel. Companies will only bring 100 gallons of fuel at a time, so with prices running high the coffers are quickly depleted.
This program does not use state or local dollars. While there are some state funds available for emergency uses, the crisis program does not begin until January and funding for that program is limited.
The Fuel Assistance Program often helps people who fall between the cracks. These are folks who may normally work but have recently lost a job due to illness or lay off. With no money coming in, they are at risk of losing their electricity or heat.
“The government does not give us money for those people,” Mullis said. Everyone who receives funds is checked out and the need is verified before dollars are handed over, she said.
These folks simply need a hand until they can get back on their feet. Most recently a woman who had been very ill called saying she had a $10 balance on her light bill; the electric company was on the way to shut off her power.
A call from Social Services kept her electricity on. However, the woman has no family in the area and her illness has kept her from work for a number of weeks. Mullis worried that she would suffer until she could get well enough to return to work.
Senior Social Worker Brenda Holdren worries that even with government assistance money will be tight. The state is looking at a shortfall and she expects assistance dollars to be less than last year.
“We are desperately in need of money to help people to buy oil or pay electric bills,” Holdren said. “Just to keep these things going.”
Social Services is receiving several calls a day from people who are in need. They do their best to help but often can only make a referral to a local church or other organization.
“I anticipate its going to get worse,” Mullis said. “It’s not even cold yet.”
There are many folks in the county to worry about – the elderly, the disabled, next door neighbors who may be needy but not speaking up.
To donate to the Fuel Assistance Program, send funds to Department of Social Services, P. O. Box 160, Fincastle, VA 24090.
I wrote this article for The Fincastle Herald. It appeared in the November 11, 2008 edition.
This time of year is downright hard for folks who are having trouble with their finances. Add a predicted recession to that and you have a recipe for cold feet, ill health and plenty of woe.
The Fuel Assistance Program run by the Botetourt County Department of Social Services currently has no money in it. Folks who need a little help with their light bill or their heat have nowhere to turn.
Donations are way down.
“We are in desperate need. We have no money,” Social Services Director Mary Lou Mullis said.
The program helps people out with a one-time payment for fuel. Companies will only bring 100 gallons of fuel at a time, so with prices running high the coffers are quickly depleted.
This program does not use state or local dollars. While there are some state funds available for emergency uses, the crisis program does not begin until January and funding for that program is limited.
The Fuel Assistance Program often helps people who fall between the cracks. These are folks who may normally work but have recently lost a job due to illness or lay off. With no money coming in, they are at risk of losing their electricity or heat.
“The government does not give us money for those people,” Mullis said. Everyone who receives funds is checked out and the need is verified before dollars are handed over, she said.
These folks simply need a hand until they can get back on their feet. Most recently a woman who had been very ill called saying she had a $10 balance on her light bill; the electric company was on the way to shut off her power.
A call from Social Services kept her electricity on. However, the woman has no family in the area and her illness has kept her from work for a number of weeks. Mullis worried that she would suffer until she could get well enough to return to work.
Senior Social Worker Brenda Holdren worries that even with government assistance money will be tight. The state is looking at a shortfall and she expects assistance dollars to be less than last year.
“We are desperately in need of money to help people to buy oil or pay electric bills,” Holdren said. “Just to keep these things going.”
Social Services is receiving several calls a day from people who are in need. They do their best to help but often can only make a referral to a local church or other organization.
“I anticipate its going to get worse,” Mullis said. “It’s not even cold yet.”
There are many folks in the county to worry about – the elderly, the disabled, next door neighbors who may be needy but not speaking up.
To donate to the Fuel Assistance Program, send funds to Department of Social Services, P. O. Box 160, Fincastle, VA 24090.
I wrote this article for The Fincastle Herald. It appeared in the November 11, 2008 edition.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Thursday Thirteen
1. The feel of the strings beneath my fingertips
2. The vibration as the note holds
3. The sound of the chord as the right hand strums
4. The rhythm of the music tapped out on the bass strings
5. Tonal changes as the right hand moves from the sound hole to the neck
6. Words that inspire even if sung off-key
7. Chords that combine to create epochs of power and a collective memory of the history of the world
8. The agility of fingers that fly over six strings and up and down the neck
9. The tranquility of soothing sounds that lull the soul into a space akin to intense meditation
10. Joy of perfection when a song has been mastered
11. A way to emote without ever giving voice to unspeakable feelings
12. A pathway to rejoicing and celebrating the splendorin life and the love of the heavens
13. Some of the reasons why I've gone back to playing my guitar
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Remembering A Veteran
To honor all the veterans, I am printing here, made public for the very first time, another piece of my Grandfather Joe's writings about his service in World War II.
This is a little long and this is not all of it.
You may read the first part here, if you like.
The Push: February 11, 1940
By Joe Bruffy
After two days of forced marching and hitting small pockets of resistance, the Company came to a small bombed out village that had been held by a company of SS German soldiers. They had traveled approximately 50 miles through mud and rain and without food except K rations. The commander, Captain Scott, ordered a rest stop.
Joe, John, and Tony found an old dugout cellar filled with moldy hay - at least it was dry.
They hung a wet blanket over the entrance, got out their K rations, built a small fire by burning the K ration wrappings, and with water from their canteens made themselves a cup of hot instant coffee. Joe opened a can of canned heat that come from K rations. He laid a piece of heavy string cut from his undershirt in the top of the can and with his trench knife pushed it in to a slit in the canned heat, lighting it with his cigarette lighter, and made a small candle. John had found three sugar beets somewhere along the way. The men cut them open and scrapped out the pulp with their trench knives. Tony said he had never eaten a better salad.
Orders came down from the C.P. for everyone to dig in for the night, that they were staying all night. Lt. Nolan came by and told them to put out a guard and stay where they were, that their position was as good as any place along the line.
Joe took the first watch, standing just outside the entrance. Tony and John went to sleep. Joe woke Tony up in four hours to relieve him, and he took Tony's bed. The night passed without action.
The next morning, Joe had contracted some type of a cold and was coughing and sneezing bad. He figured it was caused by sleeping in the moldy hay, but it caused an asthma reaction for years after that.
About 7 a.m. the Company kitchen had caught up with them and had sent up hot pancakes with apple butter and the kitchen Jeep. There were three pancakes to the man packed in clean garbage cans. John said he had never eaten better pancakes and he didn't know he loved apple butter so well, especially out of a garbage can.
That afternoon orders came down to get ready to move out; the Germans were driving out of France across the ziefrig line into Germany,and we were going in after them. After 3:30 p.m. the company moved out. Hitting some small resistance, accompanied by tank destroyers, they traveled approximately 60 miles.
The company had lost approximately 20 men wounded to K.I.A. on the advance. On the last 10 miles the going was very rough, as it had started snowing and had fell about four inches deep. Third squad had lost three men just before dawn. They had come out of the woods into a small meadow. There was a rock wall around the meadow.
Don Cory, the squad leader, gave orders to cross the meadow to the woods on the other side. The moon was in full and with the light snow it was like daylight. Joe told Don that it would be suicide to cross the meadow by going through.
Don said we haven't met anything in the last four hours. So in a staggered group of three they started across, Don and Spitler and Oads in the front, Joe, John and Tony were to follow, with McBeen and some others bringing up the rear.
After Don and the other two guys got approximately a third of the way across, John said let's go, but Joe said give them a little more time. No use all of us getting knocked off by STS. When Don was about half way across the Germans spotted them and opened up with 88 mortar artillery. All three of the first guys got hit.
After the artillery stopped they could see the three soldiers laying on the ground. By that time it had clouded up and began to snow heavy, plus it was beginning to get daylight. Joe told the others to go out one by one with five minute intervals. He would go first.
He came upon Spetzler, who was hit in the thigh. Motioning John to come on, they carried him to the other side. Don was dead, with a piece of shrapnel between his eyes. Oads was hit in the shoulder.
Joe motioned for the rest of the squad to come on. A couple of the guys got Oads, and Don's body was carried across by the rest of them. After getting across and giving Oads and Spetzler first aid the best they could, they finally located the platoon.
Joe got in touch with Lt. Nolon, and gave him an account of what happened. Lt. Nolan told Joe you are to take over the squad with the rank of staff sergeant. Joe said in no way will I be responsible for this squad. I have a hard enough time keeping myself alive, and I am not a glory hunter. After some cursing and raising hell, the Lt. sent Sergeant Clem Crawley out of the second platoon over to replace Don.
Sergeant Crawley was an old combat infantryman coming out of the 45 infantry and had seen lots of combat. He was a very soft spoken low key guy that never done anything without discussing it with Joe, John and Tony, as they were his three right hand men. The push continued on through the day without too many casualties and not too much excitement.
During the day several young replacements had been sent in to the Company. One, a young guy by the name of Bumgardner, was sent to the third squad. Clem put him under Joe's care. That night the Company was halted and told to dig in. About the time they started digging in the Germans opened an artillery barrage.
Bumgardner was helping Joe to dig a hole. The shells were hitting the trees and shrapnel and tree bursts were flying everywhere. Joe pulled Bumgardner down in a rootwall tree hole and waited until the shelling stopped. After a while it quieted down. They finished the fox hole and Bumgardner got sick and turned pale.
Joe asked him what was wrong and he said his left arm was numb. Joe split the sleeve of his field jacket from shoulder to wrist; Bumgardner's shirt and sweater was soaked with blood. Joe called the medic, who came and administered first aid. A piece of shrapnel had went through the bicep of his left arm. He was sent back to a field hospital and never did get back into combat.
After about 8 hours rest, the company was ordered to move out. They had now crossed the ziefreig line and was in German territory. The T.D.S. came up and the combat infantry was loaded on them and into Germany they started. After about ten miles they had caught up with the retreating Germans and a battle started.
Lt. Harris was hit in the legs with machine gun fire trying to cross a railroad. He was pinned down between the railroad ties. Ferrier, the little yankee boy from Brooklyn, zigzagged his way under heavy fire and pulled him back to safety. He was awarded the silver star. After several hours of heavy fighting and severe company losses on both sides, the Germans retreated. The CO gave orders to move out to the next village. The squad moved out without out incident, traveling about 20 miles. The company was halted for a rest and to eat K rations. The third squad stopped by an old barn. Everyone was worn out. The men all sat down, leaning against the wall of the barn.
Sergeant Crawley leaned his rifle against the wall and went to sleep. He slept for a while and woke up. He started to stretch out his legs and kicked his rifle; it fell down and accidentally went off, hitting him in the leg. The third squad never saw him no more after that. He had been a top notch sergeant. Again Lt. Nolan approached Joe, Tony and John, wanting one of them to take over the squad. All three refused.
The squad was kind of looked after by Lt. Nolan after that, without a squad leader. The three men kind of took the squad under their wing and it went along without a leader for a few days.
Finally Frezer was sent out of the second platoon to lead the squad; he led it until the end of the war. About the middle of March the snow was melting and spring was beginning to come; the apple trees and peach trees was in full bloom. They were in the Rhine River Valley and pushing on into the heart of Germany.
The company moved on to the top of a ridge. The third squad was on the extreme left, advancing up the hill. Just before getting to the top, they had hit some small arms fire. John and Joe were approximately 30 feet apart, crawling on their bellies. There was a small bush about one inch thick in front of John's nose, and he looked over at Joe and said he wondered how he was going to get around it.
When he turned his head back, the bush was gone. A German rifle bullet had cut it off at the top of the ground, and John went into one of his praying spells. After getting up the hill, the third squad dug in. A couple of young recruits not over nineteen was sent in to third squad as replacements. One of the young men was put with Joe, the other went with Tony.
Joe, knowing from past experience the first watch was the safest, put the young soldier on guard duty the first part of the night while he tried to get a couple hours of rest. After 12 o'clock he got up, and the young recruit laid down in the hole and went to sleep. About 2 a.m. the Germans opened up with 88 mortars and screaming mimmies. The shells were going over head as they did not have the range yet. The young recruit woke up and, hearing the shells and artillery, he went completely berserk and started out of the hole screaming.
Joe hit him in the jaw and got him quieted down. The young fellow sat sobbing. Joe went to the next hole to the phone, called the CO, he said to bring him down to the C.P. This was done by Joe and Tony; they never saw the young guy no more. They didn't even know his name.
This is a little long and this is not all of it.
You may read the first part here, if you like.
The Push: February 11, 1940
By Joe Bruffy
After two days of forced marching and hitting small pockets of resistance, the Company came to a small bombed out village that had been held by a company of SS German soldiers. They had traveled approximately 50 miles through mud and rain and without food except K rations. The commander, Captain Scott, ordered a rest stop.
Joe, John, and Tony found an old dugout cellar filled with moldy hay - at least it was dry.
They hung a wet blanket over the entrance, got out their K rations, built a small fire by burning the K ration wrappings, and with water from their canteens made themselves a cup of hot instant coffee. Joe opened a can of canned heat that come from K rations. He laid a piece of heavy string cut from his undershirt in the top of the can and with his trench knife pushed it in to a slit in the canned heat, lighting it with his cigarette lighter, and made a small candle. John had found three sugar beets somewhere along the way. The men cut them open and scrapped out the pulp with their trench knives. Tony said he had never eaten a better salad.
Orders came down from the C.P. for everyone to dig in for the night, that they were staying all night. Lt. Nolan came by and told them to put out a guard and stay where they were, that their position was as good as any place along the line.
Joe took the first watch, standing just outside the entrance. Tony and John went to sleep. Joe woke Tony up in four hours to relieve him, and he took Tony's bed. The night passed without action.
The next morning, Joe had contracted some type of a cold and was coughing and sneezing bad. He figured it was caused by sleeping in the moldy hay, but it caused an asthma reaction for years after that.
About 7 a.m. the Company kitchen had caught up with them and had sent up hot pancakes with apple butter and the kitchen Jeep. There were three pancakes to the man packed in clean garbage cans. John said he had never eaten better pancakes and he didn't know he loved apple butter so well, especially out of a garbage can.
That afternoon orders came down to get ready to move out; the Germans were driving out of France across the ziefrig line into Germany,and we were going in after them. After 3:30 p.m. the company moved out. Hitting some small resistance, accompanied by tank destroyers, they traveled approximately 60 miles.
The company had lost approximately 20 men wounded to K.I.A. on the advance. On the last 10 miles the going was very rough, as it had started snowing and had fell about four inches deep. Third squad had lost three men just before dawn. They had come out of the woods into a small meadow. There was a rock wall around the meadow.
Don Cory, the squad leader, gave orders to cross the meadow to the woods on the other side. The moon was in full and with the light snow it was like daylight. Joe told Don that it would be suicide to cross the meadow by going through.
Don said we haven't met anything in the last four hours. So in a staggered group of three they started across, Don and Spitler and Oads in the front, Joe, John and Tony were to follow, with McBeen and some others bringing up the rear.
After Don and the other two guys got approximately a third of the way across, John said let's go, but Joe said give them a little more time. No use all of us getting knocked off by STS. When Don was about half way across the Germans spotted them and opened up with 88 mortar artillery. All three of the first guys got hit.
After the artillery stopped they could see the three soldiers laying on the ground. By that time it had clouded up and began to snow heavy, plus it was beginning to get daylight. Joe told the others to go out one by one with five minute intervals. He would go first.
He came upon Spetzler, who was hit in the thigh. Motioning John to come on, they carried him to the other side. Don was dead, with a piece of shrapnel between his eyes. Oads was hit in the shoulder.
Joe motioned for the rest of the squad to come on. A couple of the guys got Oads, and Don's body was carried across by the rest of them. After getting across and giving Oads and Spetzler first aid the best they could, they finally located the platoon.
Joe got in touch with Lt. Nolon, and gave him an account of what happened. Lt. Nolan told Joe you are to take over the squad with the rank of staff sergeant. Joe said in no way will I be responsible for this squad. I have a hard enough time keeping myself alive, and I am not a glory hunter. After some cursing and raising hell, the Lt. sent Sergeant Clem Crawley out of the second platoon over to replace Don.
Sergeant Crawley was an old combat infantryman coming out of the 45 infantry and had seen lots of combat. He was a very soft spoken low key guy that never done anything without discussing it with Joe, John and Tony, as they were his three right hand men. The push continued on through the day without too many casualties and not too much excitement.
During the day several young replacements had been sent in to the Company. One, a young guy by the name of Bumgardner, was sent to the third squad. Clem put him under Joe's care. That night the Company was halted and told to dig in. About the time they started digging in the Germans opened an artillery barrage.
Bumgardner was helping Joe to dig a hole. The shells were hitting the trees and shrapnel and tree bursts were flying everywhere. Joe pulled Bumgardner down in a rootwall tree hole and waited until the shelling stopped. After a while it quieted down. They finished the fox hole and Bumgardner got sick and turned pale.
Joe asked him what was wrong and he said his left arm was numb. Joe split the sleeve of his field jacket from shoulder to wrist; Bumgardner's shirt and sweater was soaked with blood. Joe called the medic, who came and administered first aid. A piece of shrapnel had went through the bicep of his left arm. He was sent back to a field hospital and never did get back into combat.
After about 8 hours rest, the company was ordered to move out. They had now crossed the ziefreig line and was in German territory. The T.D.S. came up and the combat infantry was loaded on them and into Germany they started. After about ten miles they had caught up with the retreating Germans and a battle started.
Lt. Harris was hit in the legs with machine gun fire trying to cross a railroad. He was pinned down between the railroad ties. Ferrier, the little yankee boy from Brooklyn, zigzagged his way under heavy fire and pulled him back to safety. He was awarded the silver star. After several hours of heavy fighting and severe company losses on both sides, the Germans retreated. The CO gave orders to move out to the next village. The squad moved out without out incident, traveling about 20 miles. The company was halted for a rest and to eat K rations. The third squad stopped by an old barn. Everyone was worn out. The men all sat down, leaning against the wall of the barn.
Sergeant Crawley leaned his rifle against the wall and went to sleep. He slept for a while and woke up. He started to stretch out his legs and kicked his rifle; it fell down and accidentally went off, hitting him in the leg. The third squad never saw him no more after that. He had been a top notch sergeant. Again Lt. Nolan approached Joe, Tony and John, wanting one of them to take over the squad. All three refused.
The squad was kind of looked after by Lt. Nolan after that, without a squad leader. The three men kind of took the squad under their wing and it went along without a leader for a few days.
Finally Frezer was sent out of the second platoon to lead the squad; he led it until the end of the war. About the middle of March the snow was melting and spring was beginning to come; the apple trees and peach trees was in full bloom. They were in the Rhine River Valley and pushing on into the heart of Germany.
The company moved on to the top of a ridge. The third squad was on the extreme left, advancing up the hill. Just before getting to the top, they had hit some small arms fire. John and Joe were approximately 30 feet apart, crawling on their bellies. There was a small bush about one inch thick in front of John's nose, and he looked over at Joe and said he wondered how he was going to get around it.
When he turned his head back, the bush was gone. A German rifle bullet had cut it off at the top of the ground, and John went into one of his praying spells. After getting up the hill, the third squad dug in. A couple of young recruits not over nineteen was sent in to third squad as replacements. One of the young men was put with Joe, the other went with Tony.
Joe, knowing from past experience the first watch was the safest, put the young soldier on guard duty the first part of the night while he tried to get a couple hours of rest. After 12 o'clock he got up, and the young recruit laid down in the hole and went to sleep. About 2 a.m. the Germans opened up with 88 mortars and screaming mimmies. The shells were going over head as they did not have the range yet. The young recruit woke up and, hearing the shells and artillery, he went completely berserk and started out of the hole screaming.
Joe hit him in the jaw and got him quieted down. The young fellow sat sobbing. Joe went to the next hole to the phone, called the CO, he said to bring him down to the C.P. This was done by Joe and Tony; they never saw the young guy no more. They didn't even know his name.
Monday, November 10, 2008
A Good Day for the Nephew
My 17-year-old nephew shot his first buck on Saturday. He was using a muzzleloader.
While I hate to see the animals take a bullet, I also know that if they weren't hunted we would have no alfalfa left for the cattle.
The meat won't go to waste and so the deer won't have died for naught.
The nephew shot it in front of my house. I saw him kill it, as did his parents and one of his friends.
I am thankful he dropped it with one shot. It died instantly and there was no worry about having a wounded animal roaming the place.
This is not my favorite past time but I do recognize the importance of it to the hunters and the ecosystem, etc. But this is the time of the year when I wish I could afford a second house at the beach or something!
Saturday, November 08, 2008
Green Living
Today we went to the Green Living Expo at the Roanoke Civic Center.
While there are a lot of interesting things there, I was dismayed that it was all so expensive. Aside from changing out your light bulbs, everything costs thousands of dollars.
However, we don't want to make our house completely solar. There seemed to be this all-or-nothing mentality going on that I found disturbing.
We just want to run the well pump when the power is out. And if we could manage to take a few things off the power grid and run them all the time, so much the better.
That shouldn't entail a $16,000 solar panel. Not when we can run a battery for a fence charger off a tiny little solar panel. That is enough charge to zap a cow for thousands of feet. So surely there must be small solar panels that would run say, the dryer, that don't cost so much.
I am not an expert on these things, however, and the experts don't seem to want to deal with the small stuff.
We also have considered windmill power. But the new windmills again cost many thousands. We would prefer an old-fashioned type windmill, also, not a turbine. I think a windmill on the farm could be very useful.
The Green Living Expo had a lot of good exhibits; I don't mean to sound negative. It just didn't meet our needs very well at this time. I am sure that at some future date it will, when we are looking at different things.
Many websites dealing with homesteading and similar topics cover these items. They are generally out of the mainstream. I think the expo, which is of course attempting to make green living mainstream, has to be more "acceptable" at the present time. Some of the green items can be really out there.
While there are a lot of interesting things there, I was dismayed that it was all so expensive. Aside from changing out your light bulbs, everything costs thousands of dollars.
However, we don't want to make our house completely solar. There seemed to be this all-or-nothing mentality going on that I found disturbing.
We just want to run the well pump when the power is out. And if we could manage to take a few things off the power grid and run them all the time, so much the better.
That shouldn't entail a $16,000 solar panel. Not when we can run a battery for a fence charger off a tiny little solar panel. That is enough charge to zap a cow for thousands of feet. So surely there must be small solar panels that would run say, the dryer, that don't cost so much.
I am not an expert on these things, however, and the experts don't seem to want to deal with the small stuff.
We also have considered windmill power. But the new windmills again cost many thousands. We would prefer an old-fashioned type windmill, also, not a turbine. I think a windmill on the farm could be very useful.
The Green Living Expo had a lot of good exhibits; I don't mean to sound negative. It just didn't meet our needs very well at this time. I am sure that at some future date it will, when we are looking at different things.
Many websites dealing with homesteading and similar topics cover these items. They are generally out of the mainstream. I think the expo, which is of course attempting to make green living mainstream, has to be more "acceptable" at the present time. Some of the green items can be really out there.
Friday, November 07, 2008
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Thursday Thirteen: Dona Nobis Pacem
1. Let there be Peace now.
2. A hush all over the world.
3. Quietness inside that spills over
4. Into the heart and soul
5. Of every man, woman and child.
6. Let there be Peace now.
7. No division, no war.
8. No poverty and no pain.
9. May gratitude and love
10. Find each soul and swell it
11. Until only goodness and joy abide
12. If tears must fall, fill rivers
13. And let us all drink each other's sorrows.
Today is the Blogblast for Peace, which I have participated in before. I think it is always a good time to hope for Peace.
*Blogblast for Peace comes from Mimi Writes.*
Thursday Thirteen is played by lots of people; you can learn more about it here. My other Thursday Thirteens are here.
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Monday, November 03, 2008
Hmmm
I received in the mail a post card from a Toyota dealer for a service clinic.
The service clinic takes place in Houston, Texas.
I live in Virginia. Bought my car (which is a Toyota) in Virginia. Haven't been in Texas since I was 12 years old.
Also, the card, which I received on November 1, is only good from September 8 to September 30.
What is up with this?
Did someone really think I would drive to Houston for a $12.95 tire rotation and a complimentary car wash?
The service clinic takes place in Houston, Texas.
I live in Virginia. Bought my car (which is a Toyota) in Virginia. Haven't been in Texas since I was 12 years old.
Also, the card, which I received on November 1, is only good from September 8 to September 30.
What is up with this?
Did someone really think I would drive to Houston for a $12.95 tire rotation and a complimentary car wash?
Sunday, November 02, 2008
The Shelf Life of Yogurt
Yesterday afternoon I visited Hollins University, my Alma mater, for a panel discussion with Lee Smith, Jill McCorkle and Natasha Tretheway.
The event was a kickoff celebration of a $125 million funding campaign.
The university wants to use the money for scholarships, adding to the endowment, student items, renovating or replacing specific buildings, conservation easements, and funding day-to-day operations of the university.
The last time I attended a Hollins event with Lee Smith, Danae Science Building auditorium was packed. The alumnae panel with these authors was advertised as being in the DuPont Chapel which holds a great crowd.
When I arrived I found the event had been moved to the theatre. Turnout was quite low for such well-known Hollins alumnae writers. I was disappointed in that for I had hoped to see professors or other alumnae I know. Instead I saw no one.
The topic of the day was "Writing and Publication: When Art Meets Commerce."
Natasha Tretheway, a 1991 graduate of Hollins' master of arts in creative writing program, in 2007 received the Pulitzer Prize for her poetry. She presently teaches English at Emory University. Her take on the whole "money versus art" thing was that money cannot be the reason for writing, particularly if you are a poet.
Poets do not make much money. She cited figures of less than $5,000 for most of her books.
I have not read her poetry or heard her read her work, something I will rectify in the future. I know her dad, Eric Tretheway, who is a professor at Hollins, but not well. I never took a class from him so I am not a student he will remember.
I went to the panel to hear Lee Smith and Jill McCorkle talk. I have read both of these authors and have enjoyed their work.
Lee Smith graduated from Hollins in 1967. She has written 11 books. I read On Agate Hill this year; previously I have read Oral History, Saving Grace and Family Linen. I forgot to take my books with me so she could sign them.
Saturday was her birthday. I overheard her telling someone prior to the event that her birthday was really October 31, as she was born just a few minutes before midnight, but her mother begged the doctor to say her daughter was born on November 1. "No lady can ever be born on Halloween," Smith said.
She did not tell that story from the stage but did note that it was her birthday.
Smith has a great sense of humor and she's very enthusiastic about her writing. However, none of these writers were very enthusiastic about the future of the book nor were they encouraging about making a living as a book writer, especially a fiction writer.
She told a humorous story about how her work fell flat when she worried about the dollars. She once sent off to Silhouette for writers' guidelines and proceeded to attempt to create a romance novel. The book was set on Pawley's Island and featured an orphan (as required by the guidelines) and a dark and swarthy artist.
The book was rejected.
Jill McCorkle, likewise, said she feels her art suffers when she is writing under contract. She prefers to write the book and worry about selling it later. Smith nodded her head in agreement.
McCorkle graduated from Hollins' masters program in 1981. She has written five novels and I have read three: Carolina Moon, Tending to Virginia and Ferris Beach. She is currently on the faculty at North Carolina State University.
McCorkle said trying to write for money is definitely hit or miss. She likened the time period for a book to sell to be about the shelf life of yogurt. If a book doesn't make it in that short span, then it's pulled from the shelves and that's that.
I came away feeling a little wistful and a bit sad. Writing as art is always a lofty goal and I have attempted for the "art" title. However, writing as craft is more what I do. Those are two different things, I think. The first seldom pays and the latter pays some. Neither pays very well.
Which isn't to say the two aren't interchangeable; I think they are. Otherwise there wouldn't be that ever-present hope of being the next Lee Smith or Kurt Vonnegut. Or even the next Janet Evanovich, who, while more a craft writer, does have a little bit of art about her work.
It makes me sad that our society does not value intellect or ideas or the ability to write good story. For example, I have never understood why the actors, who would have no work without screenwriters, tend to come out ahead financially. Shouldn't it be the other way around?
The ability to tell a story should have value. We should encourage young writers. In this society that means writing must be a commodity because we are so market-based. The arts suffer under capitalism, perhaps because art cannot be calculated. It is ephemeral and subjective and the value in capitalistic terms then because incalculable. Apparently being incalculable makes you either priceless or worthless, depending on your point of view.
The event was a kickoff celebration of a $125 million funding campaign.
The university wants to use the money for scholarships, adding to the endowment, student items, renovating or replacing specific buildings, conservation easements, and funding day-to-day operations of the university.
The last time I attended a Hollins event with Lee Smith, Danae Science Building auditorium was packed. The alumnae panel with these authors was advertised as being in the DuPont Chapel which holds a great crowd.
When I arrived I found the event had been moved to the theatre. Turnout was quite low for such well-known Hollins alumnae writers. I was disappointed in that for I had hoped to see professors or other alumnae I know. Instead I saw no one.
The topic of the day was "Writing and Publication: When Art Meets Commerce."
Natasha Tretheway, a 1991 graduate of Hollins' master of arts in creative writing program, in 2007 received the Pulitzer Prize for her poetry. She presently teaches English at Emory University. Her take on the whole "money versus art" thing was that money cannot be the reason for writing, particularly if you are a poet.
Poets do not make much money. She cited figures of less than $5,000 for most of her books.
I have not read her poetry or heard her read her work, something I will rectify in the future. I know her dad, Eric Tretheway, who is a professor at Hollins, but not well. I never took a class from him so I am not a student he will remember.
I went to the panel to hear Lee Smith and Jill McCorkle talk. I have read both of these authors and have enjoyed their work.
Lee Smith graduated from Hollins in 1967. She has written 11 books. I read On Agate Hill this year; previously I have read Oral History, Saving Grace and Family Linen. I forgot to take my books with me so she could sign them.
Saturday was her birthday. I overheard her telling someone prior to the event that her birthday was really October 31, as she was born just a few minutes before midnight, but her mother begged the doctor to say her daughter was born on November 1. "No lady can ever be born on Halloween," Smith said.
She did not tell that story from the stage but did note that it was her birthday.
Smith has a great sense of humor and she's very enthusiastic about her writing. However, none of these writers were very enthusiastic about the future of the book nor were they encouraging about making a living as a book writer, especially a fiction writer.
She told a humorous story about how her work fell flat when she worried about the dollars. She once sent off to Silhouette for writers' guidelines and proceeded to attempt to create a romance novel. The book was set on Pawley's Island and featured an orphan (as required by the guidelines) and a dark and swarthy artist.
The book was rejected.
Jill McCorkle, likewise, said she feels her art suffers when she is writing under contract. She prefers to write the book and worry about selling it later. Smith nodded her head in agreement.
McCorkle graduated from Hollins' masters program in 1981. She has written five novels and I have read three: Carolina Moon, Tending to Virginia and Ferris Beach. She is currently on the faculty at North Carolina State University.
McCorkle said trying to write for money is definitely hit or miss. She likened the time period for a book to sell to be about the shelf life of yogurt. If a book doesn't make it in that short span, then it's pulled from the shelves and that's that.
I came away feeling a little wistful and a bit sad. Writing as art is always a lofty goal and I have attempted for the "art" title. However, writing as craft is more what I do. Those are two different things, I think. The first seldom pays and the latter pays some. Neither pays very well.
Which isn't to say the two aren't interchangeable; I think they are. Otherwise there wouldn't be that ever-present hope of being the next Lee Smith or Kurt Vonnegut. Or even the next Janet Evanovich, who, while more a craft writer, does have a little bit of art about her work.
It makes me sad that our society does not value intellect or ideas or the ability to write good story. For example, I have never understood why the actors, who would have no work without screenwriters, tend to come out ahead financially. Shouldn't it be the other way around?
The ability to tell a story should have value. We should encourage young writers. In this society that means writing must be a commodity because we are so market-based. The arts suffer under capitalism, perhaps because art cannot be calculated. It is ephemeral and subjective and the value in capitalistic terms then because incalculable. Apparently being incalculable makes you either priceless or worthless, depending on your point of view.
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