Goofing off with my mom today

Today I'm taking my mom out to lunch and then a little thrifting. We have a wonderful thrift store run by the local Christian high school.  They have a spectacular book section....my haunts..my mom loves to look at everything but buys nothing.  What do I need at my age? she tells me.
I guess I'm still young.., I still buy a few things...two weeks ago I bought 6 beautiful Christmas glasses...that a fellow shopper tried to talk me out of (Ha!)  When I washed them at home I discovered stickers on the bottom from Crate and Barrel...boy I have good taste.  AH the thrill of hunting at a thrift store. 
The weather is not too bad..28,but sunny with blue skies.  A good day to take my mom out.  She will be 86 in March....not too shabby.....no health problems either...no, I got all of those...
My daughter is due any moment now...so I have to stay ready to fly north to take care of her little one while she's away at the hospital. Its a girl....Agnes.  What an old fashioned name...that's my daughter

I am going to incredibly busy the next few weeks. My other daughter is heading up to Mayo with her little one.  Six hour drive for her. I pray the weather is good and all goes well and she gets some answers. 
Tonight we eat left overs....steak and onions and gravy...maybe over rice...not sure....I'm trying to go grain free in the New Year....but it isn't new year yet...so maybe rice.  My poor granddaughter is on a total elimination diet...kid can hardly eat anything.....so I am trying to be in solidarity with her.
some what
Maybe in the new year I will share my summer experience with you about my writing workshop....a editing workshop....wow was it fabulous
let me tell you.....I got an A
tears poured forth.....
So off I go now, glad I am posting again. No pictures for a while.....this damn computer
and google
Have a good day .....I'll let you know if I snagged a bargain

 

No White Castles tonight

It's my 45th wedding anniversary today...sorry to bore you with that detail, we all have anniversaries...if even only those of the heart.
My husband asked where I wanted to go to dinner. I thought of the place where we used to go when dating...a place he could afford...a little Chicago Greek neighborhood restaurant. Best cheeseburgers ever...and the French fries...not like the imposters served today...fresh cut fires fried in true fat.
but nah...the neighborhood is dangerous now
Then I thought of our first meeting..date....White Castles......great strong coffee...that's all we had that night....and conversation
nah...we are too old White Castles....the onions would surely kill us now

So where are we going....a local steakhouse....early...fitting for folks our age..did I tell you I just turned 65 and the old guy I love is going to be 67 on Jan 1st
Not ancient...but boy we are slowing down....and we go to bed early...and we eat less...and we watch old movies on tv
It happens

I am getting dressed up...best jewelry on...heels....sparkle
he will come home in his suit ready to go....oh yes he still works.....runs his own company
but no meatloaf tonight

we are going to have wine... and there is candlelight  at this restaurant..should be nice and cozy
cozy is good at our age....believe me...

It has been a difficult 6 months for us.....so every ordinary day is precious
So enjoy
we will do.

.....happy new year
and I mean it sincerely
 

ordinary days

My husband sits quietly
you'd never know
that he went to the mat
with the grim reaper
twice in the last month

I stand before the stove
stirring
a soup of disparate ingredients

Though prayer got us through this
its seems like so much more
was needed to chase the awful, ugly
horrifying thoughts of what if away

He never was one for emotional display
but one tear running down his face
before they took him away a second time
was a masterpiece of conveyance

I slept in a chair in the family waiting room
missing all the things of life that keep me centered
sharing my heart thoughts with strangers
that are living in this realm of waiting, too

and again after a week, a week he was to come home
...complication
and again we enter the realm
of the reaper

No, you would never know by looking at him
that he has returned from that land,
a boneyard filled landscape

His body continues to heal
but somehow that one tear
tore a slice of his ordinary days
our ordinary days

O-K-L-A-H-O-M-A

 

Happy Saint Patrick's day

 

Why does the dog always steal the show?

 

-------------

 

My head is indeed getting full of stuff Mr. Bradbury.

reading and reading

 

But yesterday it was 73 outside

so....I was outside cleaning up the garden

oh what good medicine for the soul and body

The smell of the air.......

the sound of robins chirping in the trees

the feel of the warmth of the sun on my skin

the taste of memories as I entered the zone

while working...I visited my grandfather's garden in my mind

the remembered smell of manure

and marigolds

I was taken back to a trip to Michigan

when I was so very tiny

but I remember the tall flowers, taller than me

the ducks walking around quaking

a rooster crowing

the warmth of the sun

All this roused by being in the garden

 

But today I am back inside...high winds and cool temperature

 force me to get back to writing my story of the week---

.......Somehow an apartment building came to mind......

it's about a man who goes downstairs to tell his neighbor who lives just below him

that her singing of show tunes at 6am are driving him crazy

When she opens the door to him

he sees the likes of Ruth Gordon

 

This is going to be a funny story

for sure......so back to work

I feel the story rising to be worked on

 

 

 

 

 

 

An Edgar Allen Poe dream

 

 



 

I read the Telltale Heart before going to bed

and early this morning I awoke suddenly

knowing and remembering what I had been dreaming

 

I was entering a mansion through a heavy mahogany door

and it swiftly became a revolving door

and I was spinning around in  mahogany walls that kept closing in on me

and it all stopped

 and a piece of wall cracked open

with a little shaft of light piercing through  and there it was

the eye....

.shriek!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

I'll never read him before bed again

 

-----------------------

 

Our writing group ( we are now down to 3) :(

has begun

What a great time it is meeting with these women once a week

One of them is stuck in her writing, trying too hard to control her characters 

they won't to go one way and she is determined to make them go according to her plot

oh well....do what you must....but I think the characters know better

The other woman is onto a great story about an escaped slave

...and me....I presented them my story for the week and they all cried

It was an emotional piece

and it did unburden me from something from the LISTS

 

The little girl character has appeared in many of my stories

..in fact they did recognize her.....Is this the girl you wrote about in another story

...Three other stories.....I said

There is a lot of energy to this girl from my childhood

a tragic event that happened

But not until I began my Bradbury way

did I write almost the truth...what I mean is

the truth of my shame

the story is fiction, but the shame was released in the writing

 

I didn't realize the burden of this character, so I put her in stories in different ways....

...I wrote around it

Bits of her story appearing in my stories

yes, she had an alcoholic father

yes, she had a mean grandmother

yes, there was a fire

 

I used all that in stories

 

but the engine of my writing about her was hidden to me

and I never wrote the true story

until I heard Mr. Bradbury's lecture

--------

Almost everything I write is in first person

and I am always having to say that it is a fictional story...sort of like trying to defend myself

that's how it feels.....I have worked hard and used skills to write that story and somehow I thought and still do think

they were dismissed by some  because they think I am only writing about something from life

and not using imagination to write it

but they are wrong....my stories gather things from me, but they are fictional

it didn't happen to ME...it is a story

 Surely something of me is in there, but it is made up

 

But this time it was pretty darn close to the actual event

things changed to make it a better story...because that is what my goal was...story

 

but the haunting hidden thing I unveiled was shame

a shame a little girl.....me.....

had wrongly incorporated into her very being and hidden until it was no more

but oh lordie....it was there

and this little 550 word short revealed it to me

 

no wonder they cried

but it is still a story

 

 

 

 

I thought it was something I said

Marilyn

.....not her real name

 

 

In 2005 I became a workout freak

 

I was very disciplined about my diet and exercise

 

paid off with good results....I looked good

 

That year I saw a good friend in the grocery store

 

she walked right by me....didn't even recognize me

How'd you do it? she asked

Hard work I told her

 

 

 

 For years we had worked hot lunch at school every week

 

We adored each other.

 

 

She married a Lutheran boy,even though she was a strict Catholic

 

we used to laugh about that....I said all the Catholics girls stole all the Lutheran boys

 

She was so much fun to be with.

 

But she always complained about her weight and her bad complexion....

We were friends until our children graduated and went to high school
She was a situation friend I guess....the situation of grade school lunch had brought us together as pals

 

So when I spotted her years later again in the grocery store
 

I was shocked to see how wonderful she looked

...thin....great haircut.....clothes that fit her perfectly
make-up and earrings

 

I tried to get through the checkout quickly

to try and catch up with her,

but it wasn't meant to be that day

I somehow wished it was something that I had said to her
 so many years ago
that had inspired her

Oh ego......it wasn't

Last year I was skimming through our local paper and stopped
to read and re-read an article about a woman charged with
stealing from her employer
it was Marilyn

After getting over my shock, I remembered the week she had gotten that job
A job that she hoped would help her family
She started happily at $7.50 an hour
She hadn't worked since she had gotten married.
and she was thrilled to start a new phase in her life

I also remembered the times I kidded her about how lucky she was to be Catholic
Yea, she said......I can be bad then go to confession

She had stolen almost a million dollars from her dear employer
who I am sure cried, like I did, when he found out.......she was the kind of person everyone liked
even loved

Now that is not a small amount of money


I still can't believe it...
but I saw her mug shot online
and an article about how she had set up a separate account where she deposited
her employers checks to herself
...thus the lavish living and good looking style
I often think if I would have picked something up about her if I had
been able to catch up with her that day at the store.

probably not.....

I hadn't been an inspiration to her after all

I only bring this up because of all my writing lately
I made my list
I have written 3 short stories so far
read until my eyeballs are about to fall out
Made my list of things
I hate, fear and love

Marilyn appeared on that list

...on the rumblings list  (that's my category)

I think of Marilyn every time I work out or go to the store
....if this could happen to her ..could it happen to anyone...
...I sat down and wrote a story

 Marilyn....she got 7 years in prison





 

 

 

 



Essays.....not so much, but we'll see

I'm finding that I haven't read many essays.

Since starting my one essay a day, I realized there was a reason for this....I haven't liked the ones I did read. 

 

But there must be a reason Bradbury insists that you read them.

 

 

I've ordered the above book of essays by Donald Hall. He was married to one of my favorite poets, Jane Kenyon.  A curmudgeon of a man. I think part of him just died when she died of leukemia. I anticipate some strong, unlikeable writing here.  But I am sure, very interesting in its own way.

 

I am also searching on the internet for essays. I don't own one book of essays. Maybe this one above, will be the only one I will own. But maybe this kind of writing will open up things in my writing that I never knew existed. Or maybe not.

 

Reading one poem a day is like cheating.........a pleasurable thing I do often.

 

I have been reading Hitchcock's collection of short stories, and Eudora Welty and Flannery O'Connor's.  This is a wonderful assignment Mr. Bradbury. So much better than watching The Housewives of here or there.

 

Along with all of this I continue reading novels.  My current one is, House Broken, by Sonja Yoerg.

After this one I have two more on my list:

Under the  Mercy Trees, by Heather Newton...recommended by our dear writer blogger friend, Vicki

The Knife, by Ross Ritchell......written by a friend of my daughter's, his first novel

 

I also like to read non-fiction books on such topics as  health, meditation, and of course...writing.

Right now I am reading,  Stein On Writing

 

Last night I finished writing my first one-a-week short story.  It's rough, but it's not bad. It was about something I feared.   Set myself up for a few bad dreams...

 

Update on my other life......house mom to kittens

 

I have fallen in love with all my kittens.......One I am keeping, one has a home as soon as I can catch him and get him fixed, one that is coming around to being petted and cuddled...and then there is Fiona........

 

all I can say.....there's always one

 

and I will cry my heart out when they are gone....truly I will.

 



What you love, what you fear, and what you hate

 

 

 

 

 

Aren't we all sick of snow and cold?

 

Besides taking care of and socializing the kittens

I have been reading a whole bunch.

 

My friend called and wondered if I wanted to go to a workshop in October

....oh isn't possible that October will be cold?

It's a rewrite and revision workshop.

Well since my computer has been down,

I haven't written much

Until....

I listened to a lecture by Ray Bradbury on my Ipad

It was a lecture about writing.

Wow, I love this guy.

He is kick ass about writing.

I remember one of my favorite shorts by him,

 

Bless Me Father For I Have Sinned

 

He stated in this lecture, that for him ,writing is about someone saying they connected

with what he'd written....that they were thankful for what he had written

that they found joy in what he wrote

hopefully as much joy as he had in writing it

Joy...why you should write--

It should bring you joy.

 

He went on to say that the three things that  you should examine in yourself

 are

what you love

what you fear

and

what you hate

 

 

Then he went on to give this advice:

Don't start trying to write a novel.......yea sure...I don't have to worry about that..

Start by writing a short story a week! ..

 

that's 52 short stories for a year....yikes...

 

Then he said it is imperative that you

read

One short story A DAY

one poem A DAY

....and not the modern poets....they're crap, he said

look to the masters...like Frost and Pope

Then read

One essay A DAY

.....on varied subjects

 

He assured...that if you do this, you will fill your head with stuff

and if you write one short story A WEEK...they won't all be crap

there will be good stuff

 

If you hit a writer's block....dump it....it's not truth

 

So I started to do all this...and man....oh man....has it lit my wick

 

one story a week

I actually think by next month I will be writing two a week

love, fear, hate.....

 

Now to word associate

 

I also took out some class notes from a prior workshop

where we were to listen for "found language"..eavesdrop

 

My were:

 "nobody's going to be arrested"

"he's all whiskers and gray"

"I like the reverse"

"I steep my tea bag a bit longer"

"my mouse is frozen, now what?"

and "lady slippers are behind our cabin"

 

Why not start with these, I thought

 

Bradbury's Martian Chronicles started out as a collection of short stories

and a publisher in New York said they didn't publish shorts

But could he go home and outline them to form a novel?

...the rest is history...

 

Snow...cold...who cares...I'm busy

 

Oh, I just finished a delightful book

 

A Man Called Ove

 

Maybe give it a look

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





Words on a snowy day

 

 

Hello there...

My computer has a patch job, so it is working...how long...no one knows

I wish I could say the same thing about blogger....and picasa...I still can't post photos

 

and what am I without pics

just words.

 

so it will have to do...except for the photo above taken on our way home from Galena Il

 

snow and sunshine and blue skies and clouds....add fields and hills

and you have magic being sighted

 

Here's a poem....a little one written by Valerie Worth

 

 

 Snow

 

Garden's, fields,

the far hills,

lie deathly

with white winter,

 

Wide drifts

and heavy deeps

made only of

each snowflake fallen,

 

Like these many

still falling, these

few still alive

on my sleeve-

 

None anywhere

ever like

this one, this

very one.

 

 

When I stop and remember this small poem

...remember  it

after just having grumbled about another day of snow and cold

I am taken down with shame

 

Have I really lost the child within?

The power of poetry...ahhh

 

I am a child again

happy and joyful

filled with awe at what I see before me

a miracle of tiny flakes

glistening

their beauty back to where they have come from

 

I glisten too

 

..the power of just words

 

 

no computer

Been sick,Getting over a horrible virus that has taken me down since  Christmas

But I do read you all

and glory be one of my most beloved bloggers posted

I have tried using my IPad  but fat fingers and advancing age make it hard

I hope to have a computer soon

So look out..........,so much pent up writing

Cats and kittens doing well