I don’t know quite what to say about my birthday party, except that it was a dream come true. It is the sort of thing I dreamed of when I thought of what I would be like as an adult.
Phran decided, about a month ago, that to celebrate my 40th birthday, we should do something adult. With good reason, since as of this Thursday, we will range in age from 40 – 51. We no longer have friends in their 30’s. My desire was for the gals to take a walking tour of Tuscany for my 40th. But planning and finances did not present themselves. When I suggested we could walk Tuscany when I turn 45, the two grande dames screamed, “No! We’ll be in our 70’s!”
So instead of walking Tuscany, Phran transformed her beautiful Victorian home into a rustica Tuscan feast. The table settings, candles, flowers all of it was just fantastic. Phran’s home is a real live adult home anyway, where they collect antiques, hang artwork, and coordinate furniture colors, and her presentation of our dinner party was just perfection.
There were canapés and champagne to start. There was homemade balsamic dressing on strawberries and greens salad. There was bread to rip and dip into the Puttanesca sauce poured over the chicken. (Can you say Puttanesca on a Christian blog?) There was red wine with the dinner and champagne for the desert course. And the desert course was beyond incredible – poached pears in caramel sauce, sugar-free blueberry sour cream cobbler, and (only 2 points a slice) snickers ice cream pie!
Our conversation seems the same as when we were in our 20’s; we laughed and laughed, just like we did in our thirties. I think we all look the same, only better. More settled. More beautiful. Less needy. Less showy. More extravagant. We don’t seem drastically different to me, just more, if that makes sense. The adultness of the surroundings moved me so much. It felt good to be treated with such value, to look around and see an adult life.
I’m not unhappy about being in my 40’s. I’m just not excited about the next several days, leaving behind the 30’s and becoming actually 40. I wish I had more to show for the trip. But Sunday evening there was something to show for it trip – almost 20 years of relationships. It really is quite an accomplishment to be in relationship with such stunning people. They are strong and smart, opinionated and thoughtful, funny and fun. To go year to year with such friends means being willing to go deep, to be challenged, to be reminded, to stay strong in who you are and to bend with who others are. This is certainly something to show for my last 2 decades.
Monday, July 31, 2006
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Notes too
So the reason I had to talk about notes is because I finally found someone who was willing to give me hard notes. What a thrill it was. I’ve been dying to find someone to give me strong notes. More often I find:
1. uninvited notes
2. pansy notes
3. ignorant notes
But finally I got deep, transformative, corrective, encouraging, shaking notes that left the result in my hands! Whoohoo!
All of which leads me to why you should seek out someone to give you notes – because it is liberating. I know, I know, bad notes are completely debilitating. But great notes are…great. It’s worth the risk and the trauma that follows.
And believe me, just because I give notes as a living, doesn’t mean that I haven’t given debilitating or pansy notes. Or just plain missed the mark. I’ve done all that. And still, friends and clients call upon my services because it is terrible to be floating in a sea of letters and words and sentences all alone.
Giving and getting good notes is all about, as I said before, timing and expectation.
1. Uninvited notes – someone gives you a comment that you are not ready for and can only react to defensively. They come randomly from unlikely sources. An uninvited note can be demanding and befuddling, like a warning shot across the bow. Problem with uninvited notes is that sometimes the shot hits the mark and sinks the ship
When you are asking for notes it is important to invite the right person. First of all, don’t go for too many people. One or two. Pick someone that you are willing to give authority. You must be willing to listen to their notes! If you don’t respect them, or don’t think they have the credentials, then you will dismiss their opinions out of hand. You must be willing to place this person in authority.
Always understand the level of invitation and then invite accordingly. If you want grammatical correction, ask for it. If you want structure thoughts, ask for that. If you want to know how it makes someone feel – clearly say “I’m not interested in details I just want to know your first reaction.”
If you’ve been asked to give grammatical correction, watch your steps carefully if you have style, feel and structure thoughts. Ask the artist if they would like that opinion at this time. That leaves them free to say no, but also to know that there may be things they want to look at. It prepares them for deeper notes, should they choose to seek them out. Always be aware of the stage of the work – early in the work, mid-draft, 2nd & 3rd draft, almost ready to go – all require different information. If you give stage 4 notes to a stage 1, you may crush it altogether.
2. Pansy notes – are non-committal responses. This makes the artist feel like you have something to say but you are just not saying it.
Commit to whatever response you can give. If it is early in the work and you feel that at a later time they are going to need some serious help, instead of decimating the early workings of the artist, frame your comments according to the time. “You’ve got a good start here, I can see the elements of the characters…” “I liked the feel of it and am looking forward to how you flesh it out.”
I hate pansy notes. I want to know what is the next step in the work! I want to know what to do!
Which was what was so great about getting notes on an essay of mine. I handed it out and got early work notes: my two readers liked the piece. They asked for more in it. So I added parts that I’d edited out myself. Then they told me what they liked, where they were confused. They didn’t say “if you said this that would help.” They said things like, “I felt like there were too many people to focus on in this section, could you let me know who the focus of the story is there?” In this way, I made the choices; I decided HOW I wanted to address the notes. This is very key in giving notes – let the artist decide how to apply them.
But then I needed another round of notes. I needed someone higher than me and I couldn’t find anyone in my sphere.
I have a client who has chosen me to give him notes. I am not more accomplished than he as a writer. I’m not older than he is (ha, ha!) But the mere fact that he has CHOSEN me, gives me authority. He pays me. That’s the authority scale. I don’t tell him what to write. I tell him what I see in the writing. That’s all. I tell him who the characters are from what I read. I tell him what my expectation was from the plot set-ups and if it payed off in the way I hoped.
Early on in our working relationship I sent him my essay, just to give him a sense of what I was working on myself. Well, six months later, he called and said, “I have some thoughts.”
SO… he was asking to be invited. In my mind the essay was dead. I’d done all I could, it hadn’t been received by publishers or journals, so it was done. I either needed more input or it was a finished piece which didn’t really make it.
Secondly, he said he had ‘thoughts’. Which is not notes. Nor is it changes. This meant to me that I should expect sweeping ideas, opinions, rather than detailed ‘I’d move this sentence here, you left out a comma there…’ type information. My expectation was also, that after so many months of working together, that he wouldn’t have bothered if he didn’t think his thoughts would be helpful and that the work had merit. So I invited him to join in the work with me.
Which meant that he was now inside the work. He was with me, not judging me American Idol style after my final dress. He was now a trusted coach who would participate with me until the performance.
And the notes were great – he found the core of the piece on page 6 and asked me to think about beginning the piece there. Suddenly, the piece was a revelation to me. No longer dead, it has life and movement to it.
It’s a very delicate thing to give or receive notes. Everything has to be just so…. And mostly that never works out. So instead – make sure you give the note giver the proper platform from which to give their thoughts. Endow them with authority. Invite don’t barge. If you can’t commit then don’t. If you truly don’t know about a subject or aren’t sure where the artist/client is at, get more information before lobbing ideas at them.
And most of all – get into a relationship with someone who can give you notes. Good notes strengthen your work! They transform it. They give you more raw material to work with. It’s so, so worth it.
1. uninvited notes
2. pansy notes
3. ignorant notes
But finally I got deep, transformative, corrective, encouraging, shaking notes that left the result in my hands! Whoohoo!
All of which leads me to why you should seek out someone to give you notes – because it is liberating. I know, I know, bad notes are completely debilitating. But great notes are…great. It’s worth the risk and the trauma that follows.
And believe me, just because I give notes as a living, doesn’t mean that I haven’t given debilitating or pansy notes. Or just plain missed the mark. I’ve done all that. And still, friends and clients call upon my services because it is terrible to be floating in a sea of letters and words and sentences all alone.
Giving and getting good notes is all about, as I said before, timing and expectation.
1. Uninvited notes – someone gives you a comment that you are not ready for and can only react to defensively. They come randomly from unlikely sources. An uninvited note can be demanding and befuddling, like a warning shot across the bow. Problem with uninvited notes is that sometimes the shot hits the mark and sinks the ship
When you are asking for notes it is important to invite the right person. First of all, don’t go for too many people. One or two. Pick someone that you are willing to give authority. You must be willing to listen to their notes! If you don’t respect them, or don’t think they have the credentials, then you will dismiss their opinions out of hand. You must be willing to place this person in authority.
Always understand the level of invitation and then invite accordingly. If you want grammatical correction, ask for it. If you want structure thoughts, ask for that. If you want to know how it makes someone feel – clearly say “I’m not interested in details I just want to know your first reaction.”
If you’ve been asked to give grammatical correction, watch your steps carefully if you have style, feel and structure thoughts. Ask the artist if they would like that opinion at this time. That leaves them free to say no, but also to know that there may be things they want to look at. It prepares them for deeper notes, should they choose to seek them out. Always be aware of the stage of the work – early in the work, mid-draft, 2nd & 3rd draft, almost ready to go – all require different information. If you give stage 4 notes to a stage 1, you may crush it altogether.
2. Pansy notes – are non-committal responses. This makes the artist feel like you have something to say but you are just not saying it.
Commit to whatever response you can give. If it is early in the work and you feel that at a later time they are going to need some serious help, instead of decimating the early workings of the artist, frame your comments according to the time. “You’ve got a good start here, I can see the elements of the characters…” “I liked the feel of it and am looking forward to how you flesh it out.”
I hate pansy notes. I want to know what is the next step in the work! I want to know what to do!
Which was what was so great about getting notes on an essay of mine. I handed it out and got early work notes: my two readers liked the piece. They asked for more in it. So I added parts that I’d edited out myself. Then they told me what they liked, where they were confused. They didn’t say “if you said this that would help.” They said things like, “I felt like there were too many people to focus on in this section, could you let me know who the focus of the story is there?” In this way, I made the choices; I decided HOW I wanted to address the notes. This is very key in giving notes – let the artist decide how to apply them.
But then I needed another round of notes. I needed someone higher than me and I couldn’t find anyone in my sphere.
I have a client who has chosen me to give him notes. I am not more accomplished than he as a writer. I’m not older than he is (ha, ha!) But the mere fact that he has CHOSEN me, gives me authority. He pays me. That’s the authority scale. I don’t tell him what to write. I tell him what I see in the writing. That’s all. I tell him who the characters are from what I read. I tell him what my expectation was from the plot set-ups and if it payed off in the way I hoped.
Early on in our working relationship I sent him my essay, just to give him a sense of what I was working on myself. Well, six months later, he called and said, “I have some thoughts.”
SO… he was asking to be invited. In my mind the essay was dead. I’d done all I could, it hadn’t been received by publishers or journals, so it was done. I either needed more input or it was a finished piece which didn’t really make it.
Secondly, he said he had ‘thoughts’. Which is not notes. Nor is it changes. This meant to me that I should expect sweeping ideas, opinions, rather than detailed ‘I’d move this sentence here, you left out a comma there…’ type information. My expectation was also, that after so many months of working together, that he wouldn’t have bothered if he didn’t think his thoughts would be helpful and that the work had merit. So I invited him to join in the work with me.
Which meant that he was now inside the work. He was with me, not judging me American Idol style after my final dress. He was now a trusted coach who would participate with me until the performance.
And the notes were great – he found the core of the piece on page 6 and asked me to think about beginning the piece there. Suddenly, the piece was a revelation to me. No longer dead, it has life and movement to it.
It’s a very delicate thing to give or receive notes. Everything has to be just so…. And mostly that never works out. So instead – make sure you give the note giver the proper platform from which to give their thoughts. Endow them with authority. Invite don’t barge. If you can’t commit then don’t. If you truly don’t know about a subject or aren’t sure where the artist/client is at, get more information before lobbing ideas at them.
And most of all – get into a relationship with someone who can give you notes. Good notes strengthen your work! They transform it. They give you more raw material to work with. It’s so, so worth it.
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Notes and Criticism I
Notes and Criticism I
One of my main jobs, in creative consulting work, is giving notes. Telling people where improvement can be made, pointing out what doesn’t work.
This is very delicate work. I had a client recently arrive at my desk, piles of fliers, web copy and brochures in hand and say to me, “Okay, let’s get to it. But I don’t want to change the copy.”
Ah. Okay. How do you transform the brand and the core expression of someone who starts at the place of “Ready, just not for change”?
Of course it can be done. Because that’s what I’m there for. And that is the fun part for me, figuring out where a client is at emotionally, how much change they are ready for, what they are really asking of me, and how much to give them.
The fullness of time is important. The giving of a note is not enough; how you give it and then how you respond to the client’s effort is the work. Not just giving the note.
I worked for a director who asked of me a huge spiritual, emotional and relational sacrifice for the good of the cast. If some good rubbed off on me, okay, but mostly it was needed for the rest of the cast. I was working with someone who had betrayed me – lied about me, spread rumors, all the usual actor junk. My arch nemesis was completely unrepentant and the tension between us was affecting the rest of the cast tremendously. So the director, who knew I was a Christian, asked me to sacrifice by focusing on this other member of the cast in love. Which I did. I knew I would not receive any love back, that at most I could expect them to either be surprised or, worse for my pride, to feel justified. The latter happened, sensing my acquiescence, the nemesis relaxed and tensions sloughed off. The cast was happy, I was fine and the nemesis felt loved and appreciated.
I was fine because I’d achieved my goal; I had done what was asked of me and my expectation of not receiving appreciation from the nemesis was fulfilled. Then the director showed up and I was no longer fine. From the director I had expected to be lauded and praised for my Herculean efforts. But instead, nothing. Not one word. ‘Great show. Great audience. Nice sticking to the blocking.’ All fine directorial comments, except in relation to what had been asked of me. I became sullen and depressed, angry and empty. I’d given all that I had, in expectation of a fine silver platter dinner and received a crumb that dropped from the table where everyone was dining.
When you ask something of those you are giving notes to, your response to their effort must be in relation to your request. You must feed and care for those you request something of. If you ask someone to give, then your note giving can be part of the supply that feeds their work. How you encourage them along the way, once the note is given, is a huge part of the end result of their work.
Next time – If getting notes is so delicate and painful, why bother?
One of my main jobs, in creative consulting work, is giving notes. Telling people where improvement can be made, pointing out what doesn’t work.
This is very delicate work. I had a client recently arrive at my desk, piles of fliers, web copy and brochures in hand and say to me, “Okay, let’s get to it. But I don’t want to change the copy.”
Ah. Okay. How do you transform the brand and the core expression of someone who starts at the place of “Ready, just not for change”?
Of course it can be done. Because that’s what I’m there for. And that is the fun part for me, figuring out where a client is at emotionally, how much change they are ready for, what they are really asking of me, and how much to give them.
The fullness of time is important. The giving of a note is not enough; how you give it and then how you respond to the client’s effort is the work. Not just giving the note.
I worked for a director who asked of me a huge spiritual, emotional and relational sacrifice for the good of the cast. If some good rubbed off on me, okay, but mostly it was needed for the rest of the cast. I was working with someone who had betrayed me – lied about me, spread rumors, all the usual actor junk. My arch nemesis was completely unrepentant and the tension between us was affecting the rest of the cast tremendously. So the director, who knew I was a Christian, asked me to sacrifice by focusing on this other member of the cast in love. Which I did. I knew I would not receive any love back, that at most I could expect them to either be surprised or, worse for my pride, to feel justified. The latter happened, sensing my acquiescence, the nemesis relaxed and tensions sloughed off. The cast was happy, I was fine and the nemesis felt loved and appreciated.
I was fine because I’d achieved my goal; I had done what was asked of me and my expectation of not receiving appreciation from the nemesis was fulfilled. Then the director showed up and I was no longer fine. From the director I had expected to be lauded and praised for my Herculean efforts. But instead, nothing. Not one word. ‘Great show. Great audience. Nice sticking to the blocking.’ All fine directorial comments, except in relation to what had been asked of me. I became sullen and depressed, angry and empty. I’d given all that I had, in expectation of a fine silver platter dinner and received a crumb that dropped from the table where everyone was dining.
When you ask something of those you are giving notes to, your response to their effort must be in relation to your request. You must feed and care for those you request something of. If you ask someone to give, then your note giving can be part of the supply that feeds their work. How you encourage them along the way, once the note is given, is a huge part of the end result of their work.
Next time – If getting notes is so delicate and painful, why bother?
Thursday, July 27, 2006
John 17:1
If you took my advice (and why wouldn't you take my advice, after all?) and are praying on your knees through the Bible you might have come across this tasty morsel. Meditate on this one and you will know what Colbert is talking about. The Word, the body, the bread, the wine, the blood, the life:
"Father, the time has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you."
"Father, the time has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you."
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
The reality of the Yes
This is the reality of the yes.
The dream was to grow up and bring my family to this most sacred and special place, the place where my dad and his brother grew up in the summers. The lake house where Grandpa Smetheram taught me to swim underwater by putting me on his back and swimming under the dock. Where my dad taught me to fish and would take me in the early morning trawling for trout. The dream was for my children and my husband to love it here as much as I do. To sit on the porch with me for hours eating the traditional Smetheram meal of cheddar cheese, red wine, and bread and butter pickles on triscuits. For my child and me, for my husband and me, to rise at dawn, put the motor in the red row boat, some white corn on the lure, wearing my Dad's Tennis Letter Sweater and his Navy Peacoat from when he was a young man, and fish for hours in the cold. Watching the mountain for bobcat and quail and opsrey and deer.
The reality is running to the porch with a gluten free waffle, running back to get him a bottle of water, sitting down with my traditional meal and him running back inside, sick to his tummy from the sight of pickles. Inside he goes to play Power Rangers on the DVD, rewinding and fast forwarding, rewind, fast forward, while I sit alone on the porch, too hot in the sun, too cold in the shade. My husband has taken a break from the lake since being near it for too long makes him seasick. Meanwhile I have sea-legs in the Borders Bookstore we go to to check our e-mail, and I can't sit still on dry land.
But listen closely. This is not a no. It is not a no. I was there. I was there with my family. My little, odd, broken and mended family. We got there, not on our own merit, but on my Dad's frequent fliers. We stayed there and ate Weight Watchers shakes when we had to and huckleberry pie when we could. My husband sat on the shore of the lake and ventured to the dock on more than one occasion. My dad taught Henry to fish off the dock and Henry caught a sun fish and reeled it in himself.
This was a yes. It didn't look like the yes of the dream but it was not a no. I've had enough No's from God to know what they look like and they are just awful. Brittle and crumbling in your hand.
The Yes I have less experience with and the reality of the Yes can often be confused with a No.
But you must listen. You must LISTEN. The reality of the Yes is not a No.
It is a Yes. It may not be a YES!!! But it is a Yes, a yes, a yes. And you must reach in and grab hold of it.
And you MUST receive it.
This is the most terrible thing to be confused and think that the reality of a Yes is a No.
Thinking that because my child is not able to sit still in a boat to fish with me at dawn, that this must be a No to my dream.
It was not a no. I was there. It looked like this:
And this:
The dream was to grow up and bring my family to this most sacred and special place, the place where my dad and his brother grew up in the summers. The lake house where Grandpa Smetheram taught me to swim underwater by putting me on his back and swimming under the dock. Where my dad taught me to fish and would take me in the early morning trawling for trout. The dream was for my children and my husband to love it here as much as I do. To sit on the porch with me for hours eating the traditional Smetheram meal of cheddar cheese, red wine, and bread and butter pickles on triscuits. For my child and me, for my husband and me, to rise at dawn, put the motor in the red row boat, some white corn on the lure, wearing my Dad's Tennis Letter Sweater and his Navy Peacoat from when he was a young man, and fish for hours in the cold. Watching the mountain for bobcat and quail and opsrey and deer.
The reality is running to the porch with a gluten free waffle, running back to get him a bottle of water, sitting down with my traditional meal and him running back inside, sick to his tummy from the sight of pickles. Inside he goes to play Power Rangers on the DVD, rewinding and fast forwarding, rewind, fast forward, while I sit alone on the porch, too hot in the sun, too cold in the shade. My husband has taken a break from the lake since being near it for too long makes him seasick. Meanwhile I have sea-legs in the Borders Bookstore we go to to check our e-mail, and I can't sit still on dry land.
But listen closely. This is not a no. It is not a no. I was there. I was there with my family. My little, odd, broken and mended family. We got there, not on our own merit, but on my Dad's frequent fliers. We stayed there and ate Weight Watchers shakes when we had to and huckleberry pie when we could. My husband sat on the shore of the lake and ventured to the dock on more than one occasion. My dad taught Henry to fish off the dock and Henry caught a sun fish and reeled it in himself.
This was a yes. It didn't look like the yes of the dream but it was not a no. I've had enough No's from God to know what they look like and they are just awful. Brittle and crumbling in your hand.
The Yes I have less experience with and the reality of the Yes can often be confused with a No.
But you must listen. You must LISTEN. The reality of the Yes is not a No.
It is a Yes. It may not be a YES!!! But it is a Yes, a yes, a yes. And you must reach in and grab hold of it.
And you MUST receive it.
This is the most terrible thing to be confused and think that the reality of a Yes is a No.
Thinking that because my child is not able to sit still in a boat to fish with me at dawn, that this must be a No to my dream.
It was not a no. I was there. It looked like this:
And this:
Monday, July 24, 2006
Clippette Colbert
The De-Deification of the American Faithscape
I also enjoyed the clip from his show, both his beautiful reading of the Nicene creed, and his Woody Allen like tech guy's explanation of Unitarianism. Thanks to Mormon2catholic for the sharing of this clip and the Colbert quotes. Quite inspiring.
I also enjoyed the clip from his show, both his beautiful reading of the Nicene creed, and his Woody Allen like tech guy's explanation of Unitarianism. Thanks to Mormon2catholic for the sharing of this clip and the Colbert quotes. Quite inspiring.
Claudette Colbert
Here's a quote I read first on Sean's blog
which moved me so much that I had to share it with you, even though some of you have probably read it already on Sean's site. The original article it comes from is in TimeOut New York, an interview with Stephen Colbert.
I was particularly moved because I'm working on an article/blog regarding Branding, and how branding (understanding who you are and expressing that well) as a church is really Shepherding your people well. Anyway, as I think on branding, this moved me quite a bit.
TONY: You created The Daily Show religious-satire segment, "This Week in God." How do you square your Catholicism with comedy?
SC: I love my Church, and I'm a Catholic who was raised by intellectuals, who were very devout. I was raised to believe that you could question the Church and still be a Catholic. What is worthy of satire is the misuse of religion for destructive or political gains. That's totally different from the Word, the blood, the body and the Christ. His kingdom is not of this earth.
which moved me so much that I had to share it with you, even though some of you have probably read it already on Sean's site. The original article it comes from is in TimeOut New York, an interview with Stephen Colbert.
I was particularly moved because I'm working on an article/blog regarding Branding, and how branding (understanding who you are and expressing that well) as a church is really Shepherding your people well. Anyway, as I think on branding, this moved me quite a bit.
TONY: You created The Daily Show religious-satire segment, "This Week in God." How do you square your Catholicism with comedy?
SC: I love my Church, and I'm a Catholic who was raised by intellectuals, who were very devout. I was raised to believe that you could question the Church and still be a Catholic. What is worthy of satire is the misuse of religion for destructive or political gains. That's totally different from the Word, the blood, the body and the Christ. His kingdom is not of this earth.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
Summer Reads
I'm reading the most delightful book (so far.) I don't read a lot of fiction that isn't J.K. Rowling or Terry Pratchett (Here I salute Will Sera who introduced me to the joy of the Discworld through Wyrd Sisters. He must have known that I am Granny Weatherwax, and reading her would give me the relief and the pleasure that I needed at that moment in the hammock in his backyard, swinging perilously over Cana's offering.I read all the Witch series of the Discworld, only 3 or 4 books, over and over again.)
At Tim's suggestion I'm reading "The Life of Pi" By Yann Martel and I loved, loved the author's introduction to it so much that I just had to read it, and it is meeting the promise the author gave me.
So here's an excerpt from a great moment in the foreword by the author about his journey to writing this book, a book about a young man from India, but the journey began when he tried to write a book about Portugal in 1929:
Unfortunately, the novel sputtered, coughed and died. It happened in Mathernan, not far from Bombay, a small hill station with some monkeys but no tea estates. It's a misery peculiar to would-be writers. Your theme is good, as are your sentences. Your characters are so ruddy with life they practically need birth certificates. The plot you've mapped out for them is grand, simple and gripping. You've done your research, gathering the facts--historical, social, climatic, culinary -- that will give your story its feel of authenticity. The dialogue zips along, crackling with tension. The descriptions burst with colour, contrast and telling detail. Really, your story can only be great. But it all adds up to nothing. In spite of the obvious, shining promise of it, there comes a moment when you realize that the whisper that has been pestering you all along from the back of your mind is speaking the flat, awful truth: it won't work. An element is missing, that spark that brings to life a real story, regardless of whether the history or the food is right. Your story is emotionally dead, that's the crux of it. The discovery is something soul-destroying, I tell you. It leaves you with an aching hunger.
At Tim's suggestion I'm reading "The Life of Pi" By Yann Martel and I loved, loved the author's introduction to it so much that I just had to read it, and it is meeting the promise the author gave me.
So here's an excerpt from a great moment in the foreword by the author about his journey to writing this book, a book about a young man from India, but the journey began when he tried to write a book about Portugal in 1929:
Unfortunately, the novel sputtered, coughed and died. It happened in Mathernan, not far from Bombay, a small hill station with some monkeys but no tea estates. It's a misery peculiar to would-be writers. Your theme is good, as are your sentences. Your characters are so ruddy with life they practically need birth certificates. The plot you've mapped out for them is grand, simple and gripping. You've done your research, gathering the facts--historical, social, climatic, culinary -- that will give your story its feel of authenticity. The dialogue zips along, crackling with tension. The descriptions burst with colour, contrast and telling detail. Really, your story can only be great. But it all adds up to nothing. In spite of the obvious, shining promise of it, there comes a moment when you realize that the whisper that has been pestering you all along from the back of your mind is speaking the flat, awful truth: it won't work. An element is missing, that spark that brings to life a real story, regardless of whether the history or the food is right. Your story is emotionally dead, that's the crux of it. The discovery is something soul-destroying, I tell you. It leaves you with an aching hunger.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Husker Du
What to do when you are recovering from jet lag? Crazy internet quizzes:
| Your Inner European is Swedish! |
 Relaxed and peaceful. You like to kick back and enjoy life. |
Barely back
Well we've arrived back in Orlando, where the cold tap water n'exist pas and 76 degrees is still hot as Hades. We landed at 4am on Friday and though it is Saturday I'm still not quite coherent. North Idaho is one of the most beautiful places on the earth and I'd tell you all about it but I promised our neighbor Larry to keep our lake a secret.
But here's story number one from our vacation:
We left early on a Thursday morning from Orlando Airport. The night before we stayed at my parents home, since they live so close to the airport and of course we watched 'So you think you can dance.' There was a stunning modern piece by Tyce Diorio and we talked all morning about how beautiful it was. Our first flight was delayed due to mechanical problems (3 out of the 4 flights we took had mechanical problems) so we were wandering around our terminal when I see a small man with curly hair at the snack bar.
"Honey! It's Tyce. Look it's Tyce Diorio" I was making a joke, because we love Tyce's choreography but I'd said something about the precision of his movement and how he had the look of a former mime. Now, some of my best friends are former mimes, so no harm meant, but this chap in the airport looked 'mimeish.'
Tim laughed and then we took a closer look and noticed that the flight near the snack bar was headed to LA.
So I RAN over to him. Indeed it was Tyce and I got to tell him how much we love his work and appreciate him bringing this kind of dance to a wider audience. All while Henry and Tim stood a few feet away waving with Henry's batman knapsack in hand.
No idea what he was doing here, nor how they work that show if the choreographer can be in the audience for the performance of the couples that will be voted out on a Thursday night. I didn't want to bother him so I didn't ask what he was doing in Otown, but I assumed choreography for something Disney or boy band related.
What a treat! And he choreographed two more excellent pieces this past week.
More later when coherence returns.
But here's story number one from our vacation:
We left early on a Thursday morning from Orlando Airport. The night before we stayed at my parents home, since they live so close to the airport and of course we watched 'So you think you can dance.' There was a stunning modern piece by Tyce Diorio and we talked all morning about how beautiful it was. Our first flight was delayed due to mechanical problems (3 out of the 4 flights we took had mechanical problems) so we were wandering around our terminal when I see a small man with curly hair at the snack bar.
"Honey! It's Tyce. Look it's Tyce Diorio" I was making a joke, because we love Tyce's choreography but I'd said something about the precision of his movement and how he had the look of a former mime. Now, some of my best friends are former mimes, so no harm meant, but this chap in the airport looked 'mimeish.'
Tim laughed and then we took a closer look and noticed that the flight near the snack bar was headed to LA.
So I RAN over to him. Indeed it was Tyce and I got to tell him how much we love his work and appreciate him bringing this kind of dance to a wider audience. All while Henry and Tim stood a few feet away waving with Henry's batman knapsack in hand.
No idea what he was doing here, nor how they work that show if the choreographer can be in the audience for the performance of the couples that will be voted out on a Thursday night. I didn't want to bother him so I didn't ask what he was doing in Otown, but I assumed choreography for something Disney or boy band related.
What a treat! And he choreographed two more excellent pieces this past week.
More later when coherence returns.
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
How well do you know me
How well do you know me??
Probably horribly well. In fact, more than you ever wanted to know. Well, the languid Diana sent several of us gals this questionnaire and the ladies answers were quite enjoyable and then they laughed at mine. Since I don’t know whether they were laughing at me or my answers I decided to post them. Feel free to delve deeply into your own psyche and see if you get laughed at too. In all fairness I did make one joke – several gals said one of their displeasures was being in charge, which made me scoff. If went on Survivor, I’d be the one they voted their leader the first day, did all the setting up of systems for them, and then they’d vote me off immediately. The jerks.
Anyway, I’m going on vacation for the next week and I will be incommunicado. Or at least I hope I am. So chew on this and I’ll be writing in a notebook for the next week, back with deep, deep thoughts on Idols, Art, and Christ washing his disciples’ feet.
Four jobs I have had in my life:
Retail Sales Clerk
Receptionist
Contributing Editor
Drama Coordinator
Four movies I watch over and over:
You've Got Mail
Gladiator
The Royal Tennebaums
Notting Hill
Four places I have lived: Vancouver, Washington
Danderyd, Sweden
Jacksonville, Florida
Norfolk, Virginia
Four TV shows I watch:
So you think you can dance
Project Runway
American Idol
Medium
Four places I have been on vacation:
Algarve, Portugal
Twin Lakes, Idaho
Rome, Italy
Drive across the US from North VA to North Idaho
Four of my favorite foods:
Summer Rolls with Peanut Sauce (from Jade)
Taco Salad w/steak & chips
Tortellini with mushrooms & peas & proscuitto in cream sauce
Salmon, grilled
Four places I would rather be right now:
In charge
In church
Vero Beach
Writing in my room with Henry playing
Four displeasures:
Highly appropriate, mannered behavior
No internet access
Passive Aggressives
Planning by emotions instead of systems
Four things from High School days:
Wearing a bandana as a belt
Lunch time of pretzels & Lipton ice tea in a can with my herd
Having a schedule and getting out of it
J.O’B's Advanced Placement European History
Four friends from whom I would enjoy learning their answers:
I heard from you all, and now to hear from the world…
Probably horribly well. In fact, more than you ever wanted to know. Well, the languid Diana sent several of us gals this questionnaire and the ladies answers were quite enjoyable and then they laughed at mine. Since I don’t know whether they were laughing at me or my answers I decided to post them. Feel free to delve deeply into your own psyche and see if you get laughed at too. In all fairness I did make one joke – several gals said one of their displeasures was being in charge, which made me scoff. If went on Survivor, I’d be the one they voted their leader the first day, did all the setting up of systems for them, and then they’d vote me off immediately. The jerks.
Anyway, I’m going on vacation for the next week and I will be incommunicado. Or at least I hope I am. So chew on this and I’ll be writing in a notebook for the next week, back with deep, deep thoughts on Idols, Art, and Christ washing his disciples’ feet.
Four jobs I have had in my life:
Retail Sales Clerk
Receptionist
Contributing Editor
Drama Coordinator
Four movies I watch over and over:
You've Got Mail
Gladiator
The Royal Tennebaums
Notting Hill
Four places I have lived: Vancouver, Washington
Danderyd, Sweden
Jacksonville, Florida
Norfolk, Virginia
Four TV shows I watch:
So you think you can dance
Project Runway
American Idol
Medium
Four places I have been on vacation:
Algarve, Portugal
Twin Lakes, Idaho
Rome, Italy
Drive across the US from North VA to North Idaho
Four of my favorite foods:
Summer Rolls with Peanut Sauce (from Jade)
Taco Salad w/steak & chips
Tortellini with mushrooms & peas & proscuitto in cream sauce
Salmon, grilled
Four places I would rather be right now:
In charge
In church
Vero Beach
Writing in my room with Henry playing
Four displeasures:
Highly appropriate, mannered behavior
No internet access
Passive Aggressives
Planning by emotions instead of systems
Four things from High School days:
Wearing a bandana as a belt
Lunch time of pretzels & Lipton ice tea in a can with my herd
Having a schedule and getting out of it
J.O’B's Advanced Placement European History
Four friends from whom I would enjoy learning their answers:
I heard from you all, and now to hear from the world…
Monday, July 10, 2006
So you think you can dance
Yes, it’s summer reality and Project Runway will begin soon, but right now I’m basking in the glow that is So You Think You Can Dance.
First of all, let me say, as I said with American Idol, that there is nothing better than giving potential artists the resources they need to flourish and then creating a demand and a need for them to do so. It is thrilling to see the victories and easy to see who will be defeated and why.
Secondly, let me say that So You Think has the best costume designer on television. Absolutely incredible. They costumes are fitted to dancer, style of dance, specific choreography, dancer’s body, dancer’s personality and the character the dancer must portray in the piece. And 99 times out of a hundred, the costumer is making these kids better, giving them THE key that will turn their steps into performance. It’s so, so exciting.
And finally, let me say that Darnelle and Benji, and Natalie and Moussa are killing me weekly. Vulnerable, capable, incapable, flawed, brilliant, and charismatic. They are a thing of beauty. There are plenty of good dancers on the show and who’ve been voted off, but these four (and Martha, but not a fan of her spinning partner Travis) could easily be in Celine Dion’s show, bringing Celine a character to work off of. It makes no sense to me to win this show and then be put in the Corps de Ballet for Celine’s Vegas show. Somehow, this winning dancer will need to be highlighted, or it will make Celine look bad. She has to celebrate the win in some choreographed way. And she could easily sing to something that anyone of these kids brought. Because it isn’t ultimately about the dance, it is about the dancer, about the artist and how they will express something through their dance.
I know those of you that watch might want to talk about Demetrius, but why? He’s the Constantine of dance. Show your abs and move on, D.
I love dance. It’s possibly my favorite art form to watch and I love that it is getting a place on tv. I can’t imagine the show will last another season but I just love it. I love Dan Karaty and his NY Broadway Pop style, I love Shane his hip hop, Mary and her exacting insanity. But mostly I love a flexed foot. And a pencil turn. And a great lift. And a body in expression.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
We got to pray
We got to pray
In a very disturbing turn of events, I realized that I rarely pray with anyone anymore. Infact, almost never. Which is odd because I have many relationships in which praying together was the basis for our relating. Sure we’d do lunch and coffee, go for walks together, hang out by the pool, but almost always when faced with a problem or an idea, we prayed together. We prayed over the phone. We layed hands on injured muscles and backs and throats. We held hands. We cried and laughed during the prayer. But always, always prayed.
I noticed it because I felt like asking someone to pray with me a few weeks ago and immediately felt embarrassed. How silly, no one wants to do that anymore. Then I began to mourn the loss of it. Because God always showed up, and whatever we thought we were praying for, He would intervene and guide one of us to say something that seemed ridiculous or off topic. And always that would be the moment of hearing from Him – when we asked for something we didn’t know we wanted or needed.
I think there are 2 reasons that we’ve gotten out of the habit. One is that it is very, very vulnerable. Not just to ask someone ‘do you want to pray about that?’ or to ask for prayer yourself but it is vulnerable to hear from God. It is a very risky moment to think, “I should pray out loud for that…” when you have no known reason to ask for it. It’s odd to bring up in prayer, as in conversation, what seems like a total change of direction. But that’s the gold moment. The moment we were there for. But it does feel frightening and risky and let’s face it – we’ve gotten old and comfy. We like our comfyness. When we were in our 20’s & even 30’s we were desperate! We wanted things NOW! And we saw God moving, right NOW! And we wanted to participate, NOW! Honestly, now, I just want to sit on a porch and read most of the time. So, I get why we’ve slowed down.
Another reason I know I’ve stopped asking to pray with, is that I don’t like the answers I’ve gotten. I don’t like how darn hard God makes everything. As Oswald spoke about a few days ago, how He drags us into the valley of humiliation and pummels us into shape. There’s been quite a bit of pummeling going on, not just of me, but of many of my beloveds and I just hate to ask for God to work in their lives again. I am loathe to invite Him to do as He pleases because He pleases to do a deep and daring and dangerous thing.
I love how Morgan is rising, but I hate the pummeling it takes. I love the Yes to Clare, but yelled at Him on the long and dusty road. I live to see Diana’s clarity and joy and hate the continued confusion and testing. I remember Phran saying that Stacy’s prayers were so vibrant and alive and I shot back, “Yeah, but to get there you have to be willing to lie on your back in the dark with herniated discs for a year.”
I’m sorry for that saying that and feeling that way about God’s path. I’m also sorry for the year of unmoving dark. I’m sorry for the tomb. I’m sorry for the desert. I’m sorry for the bankruptcy, for the swamp and the mire. But it’s like Stacy said to me about her kids when they were little. When she wanted them to grow up to be artists and believers she realized that she was basically wishing for them to go through real and hard stuff so they had something to express and a need for faith.
This is His way and He did have good things, giddy good things, for us before the Valley of Humiliation. He will bring us into a wide and spacious land. He will rejoice over us. So girls, we need to clasp hands and pray aloud together again.
In a very disturbing turn of events, I realized that I rarely pray with anyone anymore. Infact, almost never. Which is odd because I have many relationships in which praying together was the basis for our relating. Sure we’d do lunch and coffee, go for walks together, hang out by the pool, but almost always when faced with a problem or an idea, we prayed together. We prayed over the phone. We layed hands on injured muscles and backs and throats. We held hands. We cried and laughed during the prayer. But always, always prayed.
I noticed it because I felt like asking someone to pray with me a few weeks ago and immediately felt embarrassed. How silly, no one wants to do that anymore. Then I began to mourn the loss of it. Because God always showed up, and whatever we thought we were praying for, He would intervene and guide one of us to say something that seemed ridiculous or off topic. And always that would be the moment of hearing from Him – when we asked for something we didn’t know we wanted or needed.
I think there are 2 reasons that we’ve gotten out of the habit. One is that it is very, very vulnerable. Not just to ask someone ‘do you want to pray about that?’ or to ask for prayer yourself but it is vulnerable to hear from God. It is a very risky moment to think, “I should pray out loud for that…” when you have no known reason to ask for it. It’s odd to bring up in prayer, as in conversation, what seems like a total change of direction. But that’s the gold moment. The moment we were there for. But it does feel frightening and risky and let’s face it – we’ve gotten old and comfy. We like our comfyness. When we were in our 20’s & even 30’s we were desperate! We wanted things NOW! And we saw God moving, right NOW! And we wanted to participate, NOW! Honestly, now, I just want to sit on a porch and read most of the time. So, I get why we’ve slowed down.
Another reason I know I’ve stopped asking to pray with, is that I don’t like the answers I’ve gotten. I don’t like how darn hard God makes everything. As Oswald spoke about a few days ago, how He drags us into the valley of humiliation and pummels us into shape. There’s been quite a bit of pummeling going on, not just of me, but of many of my beloveds and I just hate to ask for God to work in their lives again. I am loathe to invite Him to do as He pleases because He pleases to do a deep and daring and dangerous thing.
I love how Morgan is rising, but I hate the pummeling it takes. I love the Yes to Clare, but yelled at Him on the long and dusty road. I live to see Diana’s clarity and joy and hate the continued confusion and testing. I remember Phran saying that Stacy’s prayers were so vibrant and alive and I shot back, “Yeah, but to get there you have to be willing to lie on your back in the dark with herniated discs for a year.”
I’m sorry for that saying that and feeling that way about God’s path. I’m also sorry for the year of unmoving dark. I’m sorry for the tomb. I’m sorry for the desert. I’m sorry for the bankruptcy, for the swamp and the mire. But it’s like Stacy said to me about her kids when they were little. When she wanted them to grow up to be artists and believers she realized that she was basically wishing for them to go through real and hard stuff so they had something to express and a need for faith.
This is His way and He did have good things, giddy good things, for us before the Valley of Humiliation. He will bring us into a wide and spacious land. He will rejoice over us. So girls, we need to clasp hands and pray aloud together again.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
Summer Movie time
Summer Movie time
Saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest yesterday and had a great, albeit lengthy time. It’s about 20 minutes too long, but I admired the moviemakers so much because their task was monumental. This is an audience driven story, by that I mean that the audience has dictated what they want to see rather than an artist driven story here’s the story I have to tell.
In the first one the requirement, from the studio I’m guessing, was really – it’s about Pirates, in the Caribbean, and we need a few shots of these scenes from the ride, but make the story about whatever you want. So they created a story with those elements. That story involved these pieces:
- a great, specific Pirate character
- unrequited love between Elizabeth & Will
- sexual tension between Elizabeth and Cap. Jack
- Fantastic Villain
- Supernatural pirates
- Secondary Conflict from the law
- created supporting characters of parrot, monkey, 2 sets of laurel & hardy comics
- created a need for Will & Jack to be together that involved a familial tie.
So, in the first movie they requited the love, killed the fantastic Villain, took away the supernatural curse, dampened the secondary law conflict, broke the need for Will & Jack to be in concert, and deleted the place for the supporting characters. The only thing they had left to start the second movie was Cap. Jack, which frankly is enough. He’s so compelling and interesting.
I think I’ll need to see it again just to sit back and enjoy it, because I couldn’t stop watching how the screenwriters achieved this monumental task of putting these pieces together in a way that pleased the audience. I knew I wouldn’t see Geoffrey Rush’s Captain Barbosa, and I was resigned to that but I wanted all the rest of it back and better than ever. And I have to admit, I did miss the British Navy Laurel & Hardy characters but really couldn’t have done more than the 2.5 hours of movie, but all in all I was quite pleased with how they managed to create a structure and a story out of the elements we expected and demanded, even adding in shots that reminisced of the ride. They brought in all the elements that were required of the first movie, all the successful elements of the second one, and somehow managed a story, and not just a story but a good fun, rollicking, pirate story. AND they set up the third one so that we can expect more and better of the same work.
My hats off. And if you’re in Orlando, go check out my buddy James performing in the street show Captain Jack’s Pirate Tutorial outside the Pirates ride at the Magic Kingdom. Yes, Captain Jack is in it, and yes when he first comes out you think, ‘that’s not the real Captain Jack’ but the writing is strong and the actor is very fine and entertaining and the show, albeit lengthy, is a real treat. And of course, James, as Mack the pirate assistant is at his crazy Adam Sandler best. All in all a piratey good summer.
Saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest yesterday and had a great, albeit lengthy time. It’s about 20 minutes too long, but I admired the moviemakers so much because their task was monumental. This is an audience driven story, by that I mean that the audience has dictated what they want to see rather than an artist driven story here’s the story I have to tell.
In the first one the requirement, from the studio I’m guessing, was really – it’s about Pirates, in the Caribbean, and we need a few shots of these scenes from the ride, but make the story about whatever you want. So they created a story with those elements. That story involved these pieces:
- a great, specific Pirate character
- unrequited love between Elizabeth & Will
- sexual tension between Elizabeth and Cap. Jack
- Fantastic Villain
- Supernatural pirates
- Secondary Conflict from the law
- created supporting characters of parrot, monkey, 2 sets of laurel & hardy comics
- created a need for Will & Jack to be together that involved a familial tie.
So, in the first movie they requited the love, killed the fantastic Villain, took away the supernatural curse, dampened the secondary law conflict, broke the need for Will & Jack to be in concert, and deleted the place for the supporting characters. The only thing they had left to start the second movie was Cap. Jack, which frankly is enough. He’s so compelling and interesting.
I think I’ll need to see it again just to sit back and enjoy it, because I couldn’t stop watching how the screenwriters achieved this monumental task of putting these pieces together in a way that pleased the audience. I knew I wouldn’t see Geoffrey Rush’s Captain Barbosa, and I was resigned to that but I wanted all the rest of it back and better than ever. And I have to admit, I did miss the British Navy Laurel & Hardy characters but really couldn’t have done more than the 2.5 hours of movie, but all in all I was quite pleased with how they managed to create a structure and a story out of the elements we expected and demanded, even adding in shots that reminisced of the ride. They brought in all the elements that were required of the first movie, all the successful elements of the second one, and somehow managed a story, and not just a story but a good fun, rollicking, pirate story. AND they set up the third one so that we can expect more and better of the same work.
My hats off. And if you’re in Orlando, go check out my buddy James performing in the street show Captain Jack’s Pirate Tutorial outside the Pirates ride at the Magic Kingdom. Yes, Captain Jack is in it, and yes when he first comes out you think, ‘that’s not the real Captain Jack’ but the writing is strong and the actor is very fine and entertaining and the show, albeit lengthy, is a real treat. And of course, James, as Mack the pirate assistant is at his crazy Adam Sandler best. All in all a piratey good summer.
Friday, July 07, 2006
More Good news from Oswald
This is from July 6 and it seems like I've posted it before, but I wasn't blogging last July. I just shared with Gabi's mom that there are no satisfying 'why' answers to our pain in this life. Because no earthly answers make sense. The 'No' of God is a very painful and real thing. And the only way to survive it is to invite Christ Himself into the pain.
Oswald Chambers
"And the parched ground shall become a pool." Isaiah 35:7
We always have visions, before a thing is made real. When we realize that although the vision is real, it is not real in us, then is the time that Satan comes in with his temptations, and we are apt to say it is no use to go on. Instead of the vision becoming real, there has come the valley of humiliation.
"Life is not as idle ore,
But iron dug from central gloom,
And batter'd by the shocks of doom
To shape and use."
God gives us the vision, then He takes us down to the valley to batter us into the shape of the vision, and it is in the valley that so many of us faint and give way. Every vision will be made real if we will have patience. Think of the enormous leisure of God! He is never in a hurry. We are always in such a frantic hurry. In the light of the glory of the vision we go forth to do things, but the vision is not real in us yet; and God has to take us into the valley, and put us through fires and floods to batter us into shape, until we get to the place where He can trust us with the veritable reality. Ever since we had the vision God has been at work, getting us into the shape of the ideal, and over and over again we escape from His hand and try to batter ourselves into our own shape.
The vision is not a castle in the air, but a vision of what God wants you to be. Let Him put you on His wheel and whirl you as He likes, and as sure as God is God and you are you, you will turn out exactly in accordance with the vision. Don't lose heart in the process. If you have ever had the vision of God, you may try as you like to be satisfied on a lower level, but God will never let you.
Oswald Chambers
"And the parched ground shall become a pool." Isaiah 35:7
We always have visions, before a thing is made real. When we realize that although the vision is real, it is not real in us, then is the time that Satan comes in with his temptations, and we are apt to say it is no use to go on. Instead of the vision becoming real, there has come the valley of humiliation.
"Life is not as idle ore,
But iron dug from central gloom,
And batter'd by the shocks of doom
To shape and use."
God gives us the vision, then He takes us down to the valley to batter us into the shape of the vision, and it is in the valley that so many of us faint and give way. Every vision will be made real if we will have patience. Think of the enormous leisure of God! He is never in a hurry. We are always in such a frantic hurry. In the light of the glory of the vision we go forth to do things, but the vision is not real in us yet; and God has to take us into the valley, and put us through fires and floods to batter us into shape, until we get to the place where He can trust us with the veritable reality. Ever since we had the vision God has been at work, getting us into the shape of the ideal, and over and over again we escape from His hand and try to batter ourselves into our own shape.
The vision is not a castle in the air, but a vision of what God wants you to be. Let Him put you on His wheel and whirl you as He likes, and as sure as God is God and you are you, you will turn out exactly in accordance with the vision. Don't lose heart in the process. If you have ever had the vision of God, you may try as you like to be satisfied on a lower level, but God will never let you.
Sunday, July 02, 2006
Home from Hell
So, I took the Greyhound bus from Orlando to Panama City, Florida. All to be in a family picture for my in-laws 50th anniversary. Here's what I learned -- that 5:00am is actually the middle of the night at a bus stop, unlike at an airport. In the airline business, 5:00am is a respectable business hour and is considered early morning. 5:00am at the Greyhound in Orlando might as well be 2:00am. It was fairly terrifying but one of the regulars let me know that Orlando is the bus station with the highest crime, so my trip across Florida could only improve. A few weeks ago my co-worker LisaSleeper (always said as one word) said, “But Alice, we are not bus people.” This turned out to be true.
Nonetheless, I made it to Tallahassee where Tim, Henry & my brother-in-law Al picked me up. Had a fine time being with Grandma & Gramps and was especially glad to see all the cousins who are all supermodel tall and beautiful, who only 2 years ago were little funny kids.
It was however, insanely hot in North Florida. Here in Orlando we’re getting a tropical style storm every afternoon, but not in PC. Dusty, buggy, and muggy.
A long drive home in one of our tropical storms, with ready to be done Henry, was met by a rejection letter from a literary magazine and the dustiest house I’ve ever seen (and we were only gone 3 days!) I was just beginning to fall into despair and thinking that maybe I am actually a ‘bus person’ when I visited my blog counter only to learn that Mark Lee has included me on his blogroll. I have no idea how he found me but it really felt good. First, Mark Lee is a guitarist with Third Day, and I love that band. Secondly, I’m listed with some of my favorite bloggers including tallskinnykiwi, whose blog if I’ve never mentioned it is a fun read. And Mark recommends some great books and he’s generally cool. So thanks to Mark for including me in his world. It kept me from staying in my bus-stop-humid-rejection-notice hell.
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