All my own life, I ain’t understood shit about what was goin on. A thing jus happen, then somethin else happen, then somethin else, an so on, an haf the time nothin makin any sense. But [Lieutenant] Dan say it is all part of a scheme of some sort, an the best way we can get along is figger out how we fits into the scheme, an then try to stick to our place. Somehow knowin this, things get a good bit clearer for me.
Barely a month ago, my phased retirement ran aground. The practice where I’d worked for15 years abruptly said “we’re done!” By Friday they’d closed the doors. We hardly said goodbye.
This thing jus happen, then somethin else, an so on. Haf the time nothin makin any sense. Things are sliding into place for us like it’s all part of a scheme. We’re figgerin out how we fits into the scheme, an then trying to stick to our place. Somehow knowin this, things get a good bit clearer to me.
A wise old Master might instruct me to be like the frog.
One glorious, sunrise morning, I saw a shadow drift across the sun’s face. I was transfixed by an aerial ballet swirling and pirouetting, horizon to horizon. I had nothing to capture the event, so was glad to find this video. Take a moment, enjoy the dance.
Haven’t posted in about a month. Have been wrapped up in National Novel Writer’s Month, (or NaNoWriMo to those of us who are crazy/motivated enough to participate in this mad dash to write a 50,000 word novel during November).
Last night I completed 40,078 words. Even surprised myself. Six days to go at 1,667 per and I’ll meet my goal. I’m not competing with anyone. I don’t get anything but self-confidence for finishing. Didn’t even decide until Halloween that I’d participate this year. And here I am, a stone’s throw from having a “shitty first draft” (Anne Lamott) of my first novel.
What I’ll have by December 1st is the experience of having written consistently, day after day, for a month. I’ll laid track, gotten it down every day, like it was my job. I’ll have shown up for it every day like I had no choice. If it never sees the light of day, no one ever reads it, I will have succeeded. I win.
Probably won’t touch Storm! again during December. But come 2015, I’ll get serious about starting the edit of version after version. If you’re a friend, I may ask for your feedback. But I’ll be able to say to myself, and anyone else who cares, “I’m a writer. I write books!”
(excerpted from MSN lifestyles, 10/29/14)
Shoelaces + Escalator = Chopped Off Feet
The Myth: “Tie your shoelaces or else the escalator will eat you feet/suck you in/chew your shoes off,” depending on what kind of mom you had.
The Origin: Legitimate fear of modern technology. In our hubris and sloth, we created stairs we don’t have to actually climb. This is our punishment.
The Truth: Seems like manufacturers might build in some kind of safety feature to that would, oh, stop it at the point of consuming human bodies. But no! Every year, nearly 10,000 children go to the ER for escalator-related injuries, including mangled limbs and the occasional amputation. It doesn’t just stop at shoelaces either. Fabric, high heels, hair, and fingers, can also be caught in escalators, even if you’re just reaching down to pick something up. Bottom line: Just take the stairs, forever.
I freakin’ knew it! I’ve never trusted these monsters
If you enjoyed my earlier posts about Forrest Gump, here’s a link to more fun facts about the classic. This story originally appeared in the Huntsville Times
I’m recycling things I don’t use, including (gasp!) books. I’ve lugged some to other states and continents, never peering inside again.
Not so with Joan Anderson’s tale of a year spent alone in a fishing village. I discovered Anderson in 2002. Not sure how I learned of her, but she had me from word one. She was kin.
I reopened Year last week and saw highlights in yellow and pink, with margin notes in three different inks. I’d read it five times. Six now. Continue reading A year by the Sea: Thoughts of an Unfinished Woman