Today, January 19th, 2019 was the 210th birthday of American author Edgar Allan Poe. In honor of his birthday, Russell Atwood of Blue Umbrella Books transformed himself into Poe and held a day long event at Blue Umbrella Books in downtown Westfield that featured DJ Sean Martin playing gothic music and audio readings of Poe's work, Bob Plasse reading Poe's The Telltale Heart, glass artist Hugh Naggar creating special glass miniatures- I saw a raven perched in a tree. The birthday party concluded with a special edition of Ghost Stories Live! with cast members reading a few of Poe's poems and short stories. I read Hop-Frog, a tale of revenge. Jessica Martin read the haunting Annabel Lee. Poe (Russell) read A Dream Within A Dream and The Conquerer Worm.
It was somewhat surreal seeing Russell looking so uncannily like Poe. I thoroughly enjoyed my two visits to the Blue Umbrella book shop today. Several WhipCity Wordsmith members attended so it was nice to see my authors/writers group members supporting events at the bookshop.
It made me want to read more of Poe's work. He's best known for his compelling horror stories, and of course the iconic The Raven poem. However, there was also a humorous side to Poe, a certain satirical cheekiness. He could be acerbic, cutting, and even mean-spirited in his reviews of other authors work, or with critics of his own work...but sometimes, reading his satirical pieces, one gets the feeling Poe walked on the razor's edge and sometimes got himself nicked for his daring to do so.
He had a morbid bent of mind, a psychological darkness shadowing him that was revealed in his darker tales. They were sensational in their era. They remain curiously disturbing over a century and half later.
I enjoyed the event, feeling as if I might have been rubbing elbows with the spirit of Mr. Poe this evening.
Saturday, January 19, 2019
Thursday, January 17, 2019
When Did Snow Become a Reason to Panic in New England?
We're going to get 3 inches of snow tomorrow, apparently. New England's gotten tons of snow throughout the centuries. We've been buried in snow. When I was growing up in the 60's it snowed, maybe more than it snows nowadays. I remember building snow forts by scooping and shoveling out the snow mounded high at the end of the driveway from the snow plows passing by and Dad shoveling snow from the driveway. We had two or three separate entrances and room for two of us at least to huddle inside the fort at a time with a stash of snowballs besides. My parents never went into a blind hoarding panic when a snowstorm was announced on TV. We didn't have worse-case scenario adrenalin junkie meteorologists feeding into a diabolically concocted doomsday tale of devastation and starvation, power outages and the need for special ops survivalist skills when I was growing up. If the power went out, we wrapped ourselves in flannel blankets and carried on by the light of an oil lamp belonging to my great-grandmother. We sat around the kitchen table and played a homemade version of Parcheesi and went to bed early when we got bored. We had tuna fish sandwiches because there was always bread and cans of tuna in the house with three kids. The power usually came back on in a couple of hours. We never starved, frozen to death, or went out of our minds because we lost contact with our circle of friends and relatives. Our phones usually still worked. We didn't have Comcast. We had Bell. We weren't glued to our cellphones with OCD fervidity. We didn't even have cellphones. We played cards and talked to one another, or Mom read to us by flashlight in the living room. We didn't go out of our minds or have anxiety attacks because we might have missed another ridiculous selfie posted by a famous-in-his-or-her-own-mind soul-sucking attention vampire. I don't think I even bothered to call any friends to see what they were doing during the power outage and storm. School only got cancelled if the snow was higher than the janitor's snow blower chute. We didn't have two hour delays. The buses came, Mom or Dad drove us in the car with snow tires on it or even chains if your family couldn't afford snow tires, or we walked to school in the snow because we had boots and were intelligent enough not to wear shorts, tank tops, and Crocs in the winter. We wore long pants, corduroys, sweaters, turtlenecks, and long johns under everything and the cold didn't bother us. We threw on a wool coat, a down filled coat, not a hoodie or flannel shirt. We were winter savvy even at a young age. End of story.
It is so absurd how people panic at the word snow these days. The town where I live has never been buried in snow and inaccessible. The plows come out, the roads get cleared, sanded and salted as needed and live continues on. So, what's with this insane rushing to the store like you're never going to eat again after we get two or three inches of snow? How many batteries do you really need? What have you actually got in your house that runs on batteries that your need to have more on hand is that dire? We have flashlights that still have last year's batteries in them, a couple clocks that run on AA cells, the smoke detectors got new 9vs in October. We don't have anything that burns in our house because we're allergic to wood smoke, so we're not going to be starting any fires. Candles aren't part of our lives either since the majority of them are scented, another source of allergy woes. The battery powered lantern still works. It's the only light we really need. We're not throwing a party during a power outage.
So, where did this insanity originate? It certainly didn't exist when I was growing up, when you had a radio and a TV set that got three channels fairly clearly and several fuzzier channels from CT and NY. No one I know ever starved to death in a little snowstorm. If you knew your elderly neighbor on a budget might not have food in the house you stomped through the snow and brought them something, then grabbed the snow shovel and cleared their driveway and walkways before going home to get your sled out and play for several hours until your wool mittens sagged on your now red cold hands, the wool covered in little ice balls that weighted the mitten down making them dangerous face lacerating weapons when swung at your pesky kid brother!
We are a generation of alarmists spoon-fed dramatic images on TV and the internet of out-of-context storms. We glut ourselves on this stuff which is not reality, it's cut and paste drama that could be several years old, the worst images gleaned from acres of footage shot. I don't even get the weather forecasters standing out in a blizzard saying "The snow's really coming down out here! The roads are slippery!" Well, DUH! Go inside, you idiot! All of us can see out of our windows, and we're a heck of a lot smarter than you, standing out there telling us stuff that is perfectly obvious to even the most clueless of people. It's not like we all haven't lived through a snowstorm before. You're not telling us anything new, but you're finding the worst of the storm and tweaking people's anxiety levels to higher notches...for what? They've already been out fighting the crowds in the grocery stores to get their loaf of bread, jug of milk, toilet paper, and batteries. The snow plows are going by their homes while you're standing out there in a blizzard yammering inanely about the obvious. Go home. Go back into the studio and stop being so stupid.
I used to like winter. I used to look forward to snowstorms- watching the flakes tumble down. Now I dread snowstorms because of the inanity involved...this bizarre drive to prepare for what usually turns out to be a mere dusting of snow. All that running around, all that anxiety and stress, fueled by the media and over enthusiastic meteorologists (who get paid for being wrong about their ominous predictions), all that fuss for something New Englanders have lived with for generations. How did we become so afraid of snow when we have massive snowplows, savvy power company technicians that restore power within the hour or shortly thereafter? We have gas grills we can cook gourmet meals on. You can put perishables in a snow bank or a cooler packed with snow to preserve freshness. We have the means and the know hot to survive for up to eight hours or until the roads are clear, less than twelve hours normally. Walmart is open 24-hours. What's the big deal about a snowstorm in this day and age?
If we get some snow tonight, well, I'll be at work tomorrow because we seldom close. It'll be a nice drive in because with a couple of inches of snow and the roads plowed, sanded and salted, and school either cancelled or delayed by two hours, and many people opting to work from home there won't be many people on the roads. But, in my mind, I'll be wishing I could stay home so I can go outside to make snow angels in the back yard and then come inside for some hot chocolate...snowstorms were so much simpler when I was young.
It is so absurd how people panic at the word snow these days. The town where I live has never been buried in snow and inaccessible. The plows come out, the roads get cleared, sanded and salted as needed and live continues on. So, what's with this insane rushing to the store like you're never going to eat again after we get two or three inches of snow? How many batteries do you really need? What have you actually got in your house that runs on batteries that your need to have more on hand is that dire? We have flashlights that still have last year's batteries in them, a couple clocks that run on AA cells, the smoke detectors got new 9vs in October. We don't have anything that burns in our house because we're allergic to wood smoke, so we're not going to be starting any fires. Candles aren't part of our lives either since the majority of them are scented, another source of allergy woes. The battery powered lantern still works. It's the only light we really need. We're not throwing a party during a power outage.
So, where did this insanity originate? It certainly didn't exist when I was growing up, when you had a radio and a TV set that got three channels fairly clearly and several fuzzier channels from CT and NY. No one I know ever starved to death in a little snowstorm. If you knew your elderly neighbor on a budget might not have food in the house you stomped through the snow and brought them something, then grabbed the snow shovel and cleared their driveway and walkways before going home to get your sled out and play for several hours until your wool mittens sagged on your now red cold hands, the wool covered in little ice balls that weighted the mitten down making them dangerous face lacerating weapons when swung at your pesky kid brother!
We are a generation of alarmists spoon-fed dramatic images on TV and the internet of out-of-context storms. We glut ourselves on this stuff which is not reality, it's cut and paste drama that could be several years old, the worst images gleaned from acres of footage shot. I don't even get the weather forecasters standing out in a blizzard saying "The snow's really coming down out here! The roads are slippery!" Well, DUH! Go inside, you idiot! All of us can see out of our windows, and we're a heck of a lot smarter than you, standing out there telling us stuff that is perfectly obvious to even the most clueless of people. It's not like we all haven't lived through a snowstorm before. You're not telling us anything new, but you're finding the worst of the storm and tweaking people's anxiety levels to higher notches...for what? They've already been out fighting the crowds in the grocery stores to get their loaf of bread, jug of milk, toilet paper, and batteries. The snow plows are going by their homes while you're standing out there in a blizzard yammering inanely about the obvious. Go home. Go back into the studio and stop being so stupid.
I used to like winter. I used to look forward to snowstorms- watching the flakes tumble down. Now I dread snowstorms because of the inanity involved...this bizarre drive to prepare for what usually turns out to be a mere dusting of snow. All that running around, all that anxiety and stress, fueled by the media and over enthusiastic meteorologists (who get paid for being wrong about their ominous predictions), all that fuss for something New Englanders have lived with for generations. How did we become so afraid of snow when we have massive snowplows, savvy power company technicians that restore power within the hour or shortly thereafter? We have gas grills we can cook gourmet meals on. You can put perishables in a snow bank or a cooler packed with snow to preserve freshness. We have the means and the know hot to survive for up to eight hours or until the roads are clear, less than twelve hours normally. Walmart is open 24-hours. What's the big deal about a snowstorm in this day and age?
If we get some snow tonight, well, I'll be at work tomorrow because we seldom close. It'll be a nice drive in because with a couple of inches of snow and the roads plowed, sanded and salted, and school either cancelled or delayed by two hours, and many people opting to work from home there won't be many people on the roads. But, in my mind, I'll be wishing I could stay home so I can go outside to make snow angels in the back yard and then come inside for some hot chocolate...snowstorms were so much simpler when I was young.
Thursday, January 10, 2019
There's Never A break from Being a Mom
This past Sunday I slipped and fell on black ice while going out for breakfast with Kelly. At 60, falls certainly begin to take a toll on aging bodies. I landed on my left knee then left hip. Having RA as well as osteoarthritis, it's not so easy for me to get up off the cold wet ground as it used to be, but I got back onto my feet. Cold and wet from hip to ankle, I limped into Dunkin Donuts because a 27-year old's need to eat takes precedence over Mom's scraped up knee, sore hips, nd uncomfortably cold and wet clothing. (she did 'suggest' we swing by the house on the way to Walmart after breakfast so I could get dry pants.
Monday night, after work and dinner, I drove Kelly to the grocery store to shop of soft, squishy foodstuffs because she was having wisdom teeth extractions on the following morning. I dropped an additional $40 after Sunday's grocery shopping. Didn't have time to sit with the heating pad-I don't stand a chance of getting a place on the loveseat between cats, stuffed animals and daughter anyway.
This past Tuesday and Wednesday I took two vacation days because she needed a driver to take her to the dentist for wisdom teeth removal under general anesthesia. The dentist's office was downright cold with random weird people one would have encountered in the general assembly room of an asylum back in the day. I don't know why they migrate to dentist's offices these days. One of life's many mysteries. I just wanted to be left alone to read my book but a woman reading a book in the waiting room of this particular dentist's office appeared t be a novelty. One man in particular, who talked and chuckled to himself incessantly while completing a form of some sort, repeatedly tried to engage me in his peculiar little world, but sorry, my sphere of leave me aloneness does not intersect at any point with his sphere of giggly, attention-seeking weirdness.
Anyway, Mom was there to drive the blood-drooling patient home. Luckily I had grabbed a big blue plastic bowl having had experience with major tooth extractions during the course of my life. I got her safely home, parked her at the kitchen table so I could monitor her, changed out the gory gauze twice...and cooked her lukewarm chicken and stars soup for lunch because she was starving, not having eaten for over 12 hours.
While she rested, I hauled laundry downstairs with my knee, hip, and now low back pain and muscle spasms in my back and right hip due to the fall on Sunday. I made her a chocolate milkshake which she ate with a narrow spoon. I washed dishes, found ways to amuse and distract her from her misery, and watched over her when she dozed off.
Tuesday night, her father and I went out in a cold, pouring rain to pick up her antibiotic medication and ibuprofen (which she refuses to take, preferring Tylenol Extra Strength). I made her chocolate chip muffins for breakfast on Wednesday. At bedtime I had to find an extra pillow case and a spare bedsheet in case she bled and/or drooled while sleeping.
I hauled a trash bag full of biohazardous waste down the basement stairs to the trash can in the garage and cleaned up after her, limping around like Quasimoto, just wanting to sit down with a heating pad and rest, but a Mom's work is never done.
Wednesday morning I left her in bed while I got up early and went to a doctor's appointment. I came home to discover it had taken her an hour to eat three chocolate chip muffins because she had to break them into tiny pieces and swallow the pieces whole since she couldn't chew due to swelling and pain.
Is it cruel of me to remark that my daughter with her baby face looked astonishingly like SpongeBob SquarePants yesterday morning? I kid you not, the poor kid's face from nose to jaw looked like a cube!
But, we still went to Hobby Lobby for some colored inks we wanted for our drawing projects. She was miserable. The plan to visit Barnes & Noble afterwards was scrapped as wandering through this one store and waiting in a line because of returns, zapped her of all energy. So, bad home we went where more TLC was administered, lunch was made and the kitchen cleaned up afterwards. I had another errand to run and could hardly get down the deck stairs my back hurt so much, but I needed to get some things done. She stayed home and rested. I was back home in time to make her her afternoon chocolate milkshake. And I cleaned that up, too.
This morning I got up, made sure she had everything she'd need, and went to work, sore back, muscle spasms, staggering limp and all. Came home, started the laundry (I hate stairs right now!), shredded some leftover chicken for her in the food processor. She'd managed to make herself some scrambled eggs and shredded ham today, and a milkshake. We shredded some stew beef, mixed it with gravy and she had a "real dinner for the first time since Monday night, managing to eat soft green beans and thin egg noodles with her pasty beef pate.
And then she said we needed to go to the store to buy more muffin mix so she'd have something to eat for breakfast tomorrow...so after working all day, starting the laundry, helping with dinner, I drove her to Walmart for the muffin mix and a small hot/cold compress for her swollen face. Then came home and made her chocolate chip muffins and blueberry muffins for my husband whose nose would be out of joint if he didn't get a breakfast treat, too. I washed the dishes, folded laundry, filed her mail in the file cabinet, and put her to bed at quarter past nine.
I now have to wash up the muffin tins, empty the dishwasher, haul the trash downstairs to the garage...and then I can fall into bed...al with nary a heating pad touching this sore back, or that sore hip.
I wish my mother was still alive, but since she's not, I just want to say, "Thank you, Mom. Just thank you for everything you ever did for me and the sacrifices you made for my sake. I truly can appreciate what I never realized you were doing when I was her age." Now I'm the Mom. I hope one day she realizes I set my pain aside to care for her because she had pain. That's what Mom's do.
There's never a break from being a Mom...once you bring that little person into the world, they own you.
But, I would never say I regret being a Mom. It has it's moments, good and bad. You just ave to suck it up and keep going because it's your responsibility, not anyone else's.
Love you, Boo...feel better soon. I'll try to do the same..
Monday night, after work and dinner, I drove Kelly to the grocery store to shop of soft, squishy foodstuffs because she was having wisdom teeth extractions on the following morning. I dropped an additional $40 after Sunday's grocery shopping. Didn't have time to sit with the heating pad-I don't stand a chance of getting a place on the loveseat between cats, stuffed animals and daughter anyway.
This past Tuesday and Wednesday I took two vacation days because she needed a driver to take her to the dentist for wisdom teeth removal under general anesthesia. The dentist's office was downright cold with random weird people one would have encountered in the general assembly room of an asylum back in the day. I don't know why they migrate to dentist's offices these days. One of life's many mysteries. I just wanted to be left alone to read my book but a woman reading a book in the waiting room of this particular dentist's office appeared t be a novelty. One man in particular, who talked and chuckled to himself incessantly while completing a form of some sort, repeatedly tried to engage me in his peculiar little world, but sorry, my sphere of leave me aloneness does not intersect at any point with his sphere of giggly, attention-seeking weirdness.
Anyway, Mom was there to drive the blood-drooling patient home. Luckily I had grabbed a big blue plastic bowl having had experience with major tooth extractions during the course of my life. I got her safely home, parked her at the kitchen table so I could monitor her, changed out the gory gauze twice...and cooked her lukewarm chicken and stars soup for lunch because she was starving, not having eaten for over 12 hours.
While she rested, I hauled laundry downstairs with my knee, hip, and now low back pain and muscle spasms in my back and right hip due to the fall on Sunday. I made her a chocolate milkshake which she ate with a narrow spoon. I washed dishes, found ways to amuse and distract her from her misery, and watched over her when she dozed off.
Tuesday night, her father and I went out in a cold, pouring rain to pick up her antibiotic medication and ibuprofen (which she refuses to take, preferring Tylenol Extra Strength). I made her chocolate chip muffins for breakfast on Wednesday. At bedtime I had to find an extra pillow case and a spare bedsheet in case she bled and/or drooled while sleeping.
I hauled a trash bag full of biohazardous waste down the basement stairs to the trash can in the garage and cleaned up after her, limping around like Quasimoto, just wanting to sit down with a heating pad and rest, but a Mom's work is never done.
Wednesday morning I left her in bed while I got up early and went to a doctor's appointment. I came home to discover it had taken her an hour to eat three chocolate chip muffins because she had to break them into tiny pieces and swallow the pieces whole since she couldn't chew due to swelling and pain.
Is it cruel of me to remark that my daughter with her baby face looked astonishingly like SpongeBob SquarePants yesterday morning? I kid you not, the poor kid's face from nose to jaw looked like a cube!
But, we still went to Hobby Lobby for some colored inks we wanted for our drawing projects. She was miserable. The plan to visit Barnes & Noble afterwards was scrapped as wandering through this one store and waiting in a line because of returns, zapped her of all energy. So, bad home we went where more TLC was administered, lunch was made and the kitchen cleaned up afterwards. I had another errand to run and could hardly get down the deck stairs my back hurt so much, but I needed to get some things done. She stayed home and rested. I was back home in time to make her her afternoon chocolate milkshake. And I cleaned that up, too.
This morning I got up, made sure she had everything she'd need, and went to work, sore back, muscle spasms, staggering limp and all. Came home, started the laundry (I hate stairs right now!), shredded some leftover chicken for her in the food processor. She'd managed to make herself some scrambled eggs and shredded ham today, and a milkshake. We shredded some stew beef, mixed it with gravy and she had a "real dinner for the first time since Monday night, managing to eat soft green beans and thin egg noodles with her pasty beef pate.
And then she said we needed to go to the store to buy more muffin mix so she'd have something to eat for breakfast tomorrow...so after working all day, starting the laundry, helping with dinner, I drove her to Walmart for the muffin mix and a small hot/cold compress for her swollen face. Then came home and made her chocolate chip muffins and blueberry muffins for my husband whose nose would be out of joint if he didn't get a breakfast treat, too. I washed the dishes, folded laundry, filed her mail in the file cabinet, and put her to bed at quarter past nine.
I now have to wash up the muffin tins, empty the dishwasher, haul the trash downstairs to the garage...and then I can fall into bed...al with nary a heating pad touching this sore back, or that sore hip.
I wish my mother was still alive, but since she's not, I just want to say, "Thank you, Mom. Just thank you for everything you ever did for me and the sacrifices you made for my sake. I truly can appreciate what I never realized you were doing when I was her age." Now I'm the Mom. I hope one day she realizes I set my pain aside to care for her because she had pain. That's what Mom's do.
There's never a break from being a Mom...once you bring that little person into the world, they own you.
But, I would never say I regret being a Mom. It has it's moments, good and bad. You just ave to suck it up and keep going because it's your responsibility, not anyone else's.
Love you, Boo...feel better soon. I'll try to do the same..
Sunday, January 6, 2019
On A Strange Note
The weather here has been blustery and rainy. Today we've had sun and clouds and some breezes. Yesterday's rain froze in places so this morning, with temperatures above freezing there was the dreaded thin layer of black ice under melted ice. When going to get into my car this morning to go to breakfast with Kelly, the new plastic -like Nike soles of my sneakers hit black ice and down I went, cracking the protective cover over my new phone and soaking my jeans. Lovely.
Changed, went to breakfast, then hit WalMart where they had two (yes, that is correct, 2, T-W-O) registers open plus the self-checkout, but we had a lot of big items so had to stand in line and wait and wait. Overheard a cashier who opened a third register tell customers they could only accept credit and checks because the store had no cash, their armored truck was going to be late delivering money to the store. I was able to pay in cash without a problem. Glad to get out of that madhouse.
Jon's been stressed at work and hasn't been in a god mood, so I was reluctant to tell him my phone was screwed up and possibly broken due to the fall this morning. Didn't want to spread that sticky icing on the crapcake of his life at the moment, but finally told him at lunch. It's just the screen protector not the face of the phone that's cracked. Yeah. He was able to remove the battery and reinsert it which restarted the phone which resolved the unlocking it and it going to a black screen, and being unable to shut down the phone. That was a relief since the phone is only about two months old.
I am at home resting a sore knee, a sore hip, pulled muscles in my lower back, a sore elbow, and a sore hand (all on the sinister side-left side)...all due to the fall this morning. Kelly and John went to her house to bring move things over and do some more work. She sent me a photo of an odd note she found on her front lawn on lined notebook paper in small, open, legible, cursive writing. It looks like the outline of a short story...and reads exactly like this:
Changed, went to breakfast, then hit WalMart where they had two (yes, that is correct, 2, T-W-O) registers open plus the self-checkout, but we had a lot of big items so had to stand in line and wait and wait. Overheard a cashier who opened a third register tell customers they could only accept credit and checks because the store had no cash, their armored truck was going to be late delivering money to the store. I was able to pay in cash without a problem. Glad to get out of that madhouse.
Jon's been stressed at work and hasn't been in a god mood, so I was reluctant to tell him my phone was screwed up and possibly broken due to the fall this morning. Didn't want to spread that sticky icing on the crapcake of his life at the moment, but finally told him at lunch. It's just the screen protector not the face of the phone that's cracked. Yeah. He was able to remove the battery and reinsert it which restarted the phone which resolved the unlocking it and it going to a black screen, and being unable to shut down the phone. That was a relief since the phone is only about two months old.
I am at home resting a sore knee, a sore hip, pulled muscles in my lower back, a sore elbow, and a sore hand (all on the sinister side-left side)...all due to the fall this morning. Kelly and John went to her house to bring move things over and do some more work. She sent me a photo of an odd note she found on her front lawn on lined notebook paper in small, open, legible, cursive writing. It looks like the outline of a short story...and reads exactly like this:
Elwood & Mayben
Outline
1. Elwood AA sees Mayben on street and falls in love
2.Elwood in interview, but mind is on girl.
-Nails interview
-Celeb
It's just strange how an author goes to her house and finds someone else's outline note on her front lawn.
It leaves me wondering- does Elwood win the girl or is she just a plot ploy that inspires him during his interview allowing him to ace it? What sort of an interview is it? What kind of a celeb does he become?
Just wondering.
Monday, December 31, 2018
Kelly The ReGen
This evening Kelly found a short story waiting for her in her email, written by her friend of more than five years from the trolley museum. She was laughing as she read it and then told me I needed to read it, so I sat down and did so. First of all, I was surprised by this adult male's ability to write! I never would have thought he had the talent for it! Second, I liked his dark, twisted sense of humor as he rushes a volunteer from the trolley museum to a skitchy clinic in the rear of a pizza parlor where he signs forms totally more than 42-pages and she's given a procedure after which he notices subtle differences in her biometrics, thinking, and behavior. The story is just over a page of single spaced lines with spaces between paragraphs but it contains so many details I recognize (seeing that I am the ReGen's mother) that he had me laughing and going, "Oh, my God!" as I read it through.
Brief, fast-paced, wickedly clever, darkly humorous...I thoroughly enjoyed Kelly the ReGen.
Sometimes you discover a writer in a surprising and unexpected place, as in the somewhat goofy, geeky (he's an engineer) traveling companion of one's own daughter!
Bravo, Galen!
Brief, fast-paced, wickedly clever, darkly humorous...I thoroughly enjoyed Kelly the ReGen.
Sometimes you discover a writer in a surprising and unexpected place, as in the somewhat goofy, geeky (he's an engineer) traveling companion of one's own daughter!
Bravo, Galen!
Monday, December 24, 2018
Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays!
It's been a busy week working, finishing up Christmas shopping, doing three requested special pen & ink drawings friends wanted to give as Christmas gifts, writing, and attending fellow author's events to show my support of their work.
Oh, and did I mention I was interviewed for the Springfield newspaper, The Republican, in regards to my black squirrel pen & ink drawings? I responded to the interviewers questions on Wednesday, and she caught up with whirlwind me on Sunday at Blue Umbrella to take some photos. Don't know if it'll turn into anything- she said it's all dependent upon her editor and what he's looking for.
I worked this morning, came home, grabbed something to eat, then took off with Kelly, dropping her off at her house so she could paint another coat on the walls of her future den/library/office while I ran off to buy one last gift. When I returned I hung up a few more holiday decorations in her house, then cleaned the windows of her dining room hutch and wiped down her range top while waiting for her to finish up her painting.
Home tonight with John, Kelly, and the cats. We put the gifts out under the tree, filled the stockings and watched The Muppets' Christmas Carol, a holiday tradition. Got some awesome pictures of Riley Beans who rarely sits still.
Now I'm laying out a holiday gift that will be late, but I hope will have special meaning for the recipient. It'll be a lot of work, but worth it if it comes out the way I hope it will!
Tomorrow is Christmas! I'm wishing you a very Merry and Magical Christmas! The dusting of snow this morning was a perfect mood setter, but it warmed up to 40-plus degrees by afternoon. It doesn't matter what the weather is tomorrow- it will be a perfect and peaceful day at home with family and cats.
Oh, and did I mention I was interviewed for the Springfield newspaper, The Republican, in regards to my black squirrel pen & ink drawings? I responded to the interviewers questions on Wednesday, and she caught up with whirlwind me on Sunday at Blue Umbrella to take some photos. Don't know if it'll turn into anything- she said it's all dependent upon her editor and what he's looking for.
I worked this morning, came home, grabbed something to eat, then took off with Kelly, dropping her off at her house so she could paint another coat on the walls of her future den/library/office while I ran off to buy one last gift. When I returned I hung up a few more holiday decorations in her house, then cleaned the windows of her dining room hutch and wiped down her range top while waiting for her to finish up her painting.
Home tonight with John, Kelly, and the cats. We put the gifts out under the tree, filled the stockings and watched The Muppets' Christmas Carol, a holiday tradition. Got some awesome pictures of Riley Beans who rarely sits still.
Now I'm laying out a holiday gift that will be late, but I hope will have special meaning for the recipient. It'll be a lot of work, but worth it if it comes out the way I hope it will!
Tomorrow is Christmas! I'm wishing you a very Merry and Magical Christmas! The dusting of snow this morning was a perfect mood setter, but it warmed up to 40-plus degrees by afternoon. It doesn't matter what the weather is tomorrow- it will be a perfect and peaceful day at home with family and cats.
Monday, December 17, 2018
AUTHOR/ARTIST...
Since September, penning the two black squirrels for Art Drop Day instead of dropping books I have been burning the candle at both ends with my day job in the middle writing and drawing. The lines between the two are blurred sometimes. I want to do a picture book with some of a friend's photographs that includes small segments of historical prose that sort of blends a number of things together. Finding the time to tackle a project like that is the real challenge!
I have yet another idea as to how to start the Garnet & Quella story for the X-teenth time. This is getting tedious but I want to get it right so it all works.
Meanwhile, it is a week before Christmas and I am busy drawing pictures for friends who all put in their requests TODAY! I am currently doing something for a gift I am giving, so the queue is growing behind my own project with three in line already.
I am taking a vacation day tomorrow to finish my need-to-go-to-an-actual-store Christmas shopping. I also have my sister-in-law's birthday on Friday and my sister's birthday on Sunday. Oh, and did I mention the Small Art ArtWalk on Friday evening? In addition, I was contacted by a reporter for the local newspaper who wants to talk to me about my black squirrel art. I don't mind any of it, I just wish I had the ability to add three or four extra hours to every day of my life so I can accomplish everything I want to do! Melissa Volker gave me the White Queen's wand she made this past Sunday at the WhipCity Wordsmiths meeting and holiday celebration. I am honored to be the recipient of one of her works of art. I would love to wave this wand about and create a window into a room where time stands still but I can move and work and get things done, then when I'm ready, step back through the window and find no time at all has elapsed!
I'm not complaining. I have never been one who can actually sit down and relax. My mind is constantly buzzing with ideas and stories, images and plans. To sit own for an hour to watch something on TV is a struggle for me.
If I was to be asked which means more to me- being an author or being an artist- I don't think I'd be able to answer that. I have been both all my life. I can't really separate one from the other. I can set one or the other aside temporarily (like my art being set aside for 18 years!) but on a whim, I can just pick it up again and set writing aside, sort of. I'm doing both but not to the extent I wish I could be doing both. But, retirement is just a few years away. Unless retirement gets moved up again like some sort of unattainable prize- the time to enjoy ones life before it's over!
Does it sound like I'm complaining? No, I am merely regretting time I wasted when I was younger when I could have been doing this but was wasting my time writing junk stories that never went anywhere because I did not have the discipline I now have. They were wonderful, dramatic, romantic, and sometimes terrible stories with beautiful images and ideas in them...and they all got thrown away.
"Her heart seldom spoke to her, but when it did, it asked for the impossible." That is my all time favorite line I ever wrote, but the story it was written into is long gone.
I am not complaining. I am ruing and regretting (when I should be drawing...so now I'm guilting myself besides!)
But, that's me. I am like a pastel portrait that someone has run their finger down the middle of, smudging the crisp lines dividing art and literature, blending me, blurring me. Yet, what I can produce with a keyboard and a pen, nib, and bottle of ink is crisp and vivid. You don't see the blurring and blending. You only see the end results.
I'd best go apply pen to paper and finish the drawing I started last night so I can check it off my to-do list! Thanks for bearing with me and enduring my ramblings & musings tonight!
I have yet another idea as to how to start the Garnet & Quella story for the X-teenth time. This is getting tedious but I want to get it right so it all works.
Meanwhile, it is a week before Christmas and I am busy drawing pictures for friends who all put in their requests TODAY! I am currently doing something for a gift I am giving, so the queue is growing behind my own project with three in line already.
I am taking a vacation day tomorrow to finish my need-to-go-to-an-actual-store Christmas shopping. I also have my sister-in-law's birthday on Friday and my sister's birthday on Sunday. Oh, and did I mention the Small Art ArtWalk on Friday evening? In addition, I was contacted by a reporter for the local newspaper who wants to talk to me about my black squirrel art. I don't mind any of it, I just wish I had the ability to add three or four extra hours to every day of my life so I can accomplish everything I want to do! Melissa Volker gave me the White Queen's wand she made this past Sunday at the WhipCity Wordsmiths meeting and holiday celebration. I am honored to be the recipient of one of her works of art. I would love to wave this wand about and create a window into a room where time stands still but I can move and work and get things done, then when I'm ready, step back through the window and find no time at all has elapsed!
I'm not complaining. I have never been one who can actually sit down and relax. My mind is constantly buzzing with ideas and stories, images and plans. To sit own for an hour to watch something on TV is a struggle for me.
If I was to be asked which means more to me- being an author or being an artist- I don't think I'd be able to answer that. I have been both all my life. I can't really separate one from the other. I can set one or the other aside temporarily (like my art being set aside for 18 years!) but on a whim, I can just pick it up again and set writing aside, sort of. I'm doing both but not to the extent I wish I could be doing both. But, retirement is just a few years away. Unless retirement gets moved up again like some sort of unattainable prize- the time to enjoy ones life before it's over!
Does it sound like I'm complaining? No, I am merely regretting time I wasted when I was younger when I could have been doing this but was wasting my time writing junk stories that never went anywhere because I did not have the discipline I now have. They were wonderful, dramatic, romantic, and sometimes terrible stories with beautiful images and ideas in them...and they all got thrown away.
"Her heart seldom spoke to her, but when it did, it asked for the impossible." That is my all time favorite line I ever wrote, but the story it was written into is long gone.
I am not complaining. I am ruing and regretting (when I should be drawing...so now I'm guilting myself besides!)
But, that's me. I am like a pastel portrait that someone has run their finger down the middle of, smudging the crisp lines dividing art and literature, blending me, blurring me. Yet, what I can produce with a keyboard and a pen, nib, and bottle of ink is crisp and vivid. You don't see the blurring and blending. You only see the end results.
I'd best go apply pen to paper and finish the drawing I started last night so I can check it off my to-do list! Thanks for bearing with me and enduring my ramblings & musings tonight!
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