11/30/08 04:39 pm - Fading hoursThere is a melancholy feeling to the end of a long weekend after a holiday and I feel it most today before it's time for me to go back to work in the morning. I want the weekend to last, but like the girl is the fairy tale of the magic wishbone I know that would be a bad idea, or questionable at best. The past few days have been full of food and friends and time with loved ones that leaves an aching void inside that begs to be filled. It's a little like the sugar rush. First, there's the rush, the sugar high, and then cruising speed sets in, followed by the abyss when the sugar rush is gone and the sluggishness that follows when the only thought is getting more sugar. Suddenly, that seems funny -- sugar. When I was a little girl my grandmother used to ask me for some sugar. It was her way of asking for a kiss. I'm still slogging through the latest review book and it's a tough slog, the book that never ends or gets exciting or interesting. I have to get through it, but all I want is to turn back time to Friday morning and bask in the glow of shared intimacy with my best friend. Those hours fly by all too quickly and when the rosy glow fades leaves me a little sad. But I need to work and so does he and life intrudes and duty calls and there's nothing left to do but focus on the tasks at hand. With that, I leave you to return to my work and slog through the endless swamp of words I need to condense into a 300-word review. Enjoy the fading hours of the last day of November and the rosy glow of dawn on the last month of this year. That is all. Disperse. |
One Writer's Mind
Cabin Dreams
11/26/08 09:08 am - Entertain my mouthThe cranberry relish that I usually buy in the store is a lot cheaper when it's homemade and really easy, too. I decided to give it a food processing whir last night and it's marinating in the fridge right now. I had some last night (have to taste test it) and it was really good. I may have a touch more before I start work, just to see how it's coming along in the marinating process. In fact, I think it would be a great addition to a pot roast on dark rye sandwich for lunch. I have heard all the talk, and seen the recipes for, brining meat, but I came across a new technique that I'm going to try tonight. Using kosher salt and spices, I'm going to salt the turkey. It's the same idea as brining without all the water. The salt brings the juices in the turkey to the surface so that when it bakes it stays moist without all the basting. After it's done, the turkey sits for 30 minutes before carving so the juices redistribute. I'll let you know how it goes. On tonight's baking schedule are yams (for the sweet potato pecan pie), lemon meringue pie and carrot cake. I'm still not sure if I want to make muffins out of the carrot cake batter or a two-layer cake. Either way, the carrot cake gets a traditional cream cheese frosting. I also have to make shiitake mushroom caviar (caviar is Russian for any spread with minced vegetables, and you thought it just meant fish eggs) so that it has time for the flavors to develop. Tomorrow's pretty easy. In the morning, I'll boil the potatoes for the mashed potatoes with roasted garlic and put together the butternut squash au gratin for the main side dishes. Guests will bring salads and sides and ham and the drinks are on me, a nice light white wine and a full bodied Merlot. There will also be fresh lemonade and water to drink and a few amuse bouches (entertain the mouth) to whet the appetite before the main event. Friday is reserved for an intimate meal with one really good friend who has requested rye bread and mustard for his turkey sandwich. The rye bread I get, but I was expecting a request for Miracle Whip or mayo for the turkey sandwiches. I'm open to anything, like cranberry relish on pot roast sandwiches. I like trying new things, especially when it comes to food, unlike Beanie who is a traditionalist to her core. When Beanie and I talked this morning and I mentioned my schedule, she said I was weird with all the gourmet food. I don't consider shiitake mushroom caviar or mashed potatoes with sour cream and roasted garlic gourmet, but someone for whom stuffed celery is gourmet, I'm sure it seems that way. She doesn't like Swiss cheese because it tastes nasty and she prefers ranch dressing while I finally found a recipe for authentic green goddess salad dressing that includes anchovies. I'm sure she wouldn't like to know what else is in it. At least, she approved the carrot cake. It's something she recognizes. I've always been different than my siblings and I love trying new things, especially food, which is why I live in Colorado and they all live within 50 miles of Columbus, Ohio where they grew up. After all, life is too short and the world filled with new and different sensations and experiences and I still have a long way to go in trying them all. I may have to come back several more lifetimes to get them all in and revisit the ones I really liked. I consider cooking as stress reducing therapy while many other people consider it stressful. It takes all kinds of people to make a world. In the meantime, enjoy this time with good friends, dear family and lots of foods, but pace yourself. There's a long weekend ahead and you don't have to eat everything during dinner tomorrow. Save a little something for a midnight snack, breakfast, lunch, snacks and dinner on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. If you do it right, you could have a feast every day for at least a week. That is all. Disperse. |
11/24/08 10:17 pm - SpiritsThe house smells like roasting garlic. It's for the hummus and baba ghanouj I'm making for hors d'ouevres. I'll bake pita bread tomorrow evening and then bake it again when I cut it up into triangles. I love cooking. I also realized I have some chocolate chips, 60% cacao bittersweet chips, and I think they would go very well in Tollhouse cookies, but I'll save those and bake them on Thursday. Nothing says holiday like something from the oven. I love this time of year. Most of my local friends will get food baskets filled with homemade goodies for the holiday season. My mother is getting her favorite series, Forever Knight. I don't know why, but she has a thing for certain vampires and one werewolf (David Selby as Quentin Collins). For someone so straight laced, it just doesn't track, but there it is. She even had me learn to play Quentin's Theme on the piano when I was a kid. Talk about obsessions. My brother and sisters and I went in together to get all the DVDs for the series for Mom for Xmas and it doesn't matter that I mention it here since she doesn't have access to a computer. It was my idea because all she talks about is Forever Knight, she doesn't want to miss Nick Knight when it's on. Now she won't have to miss him. She can hole up in her room and watch him all the time. If you detect a wee bit of the holiday spirit here, it isn't because of alcohol laden egg nog. I drink the occasional glass of wine, but the spirit is all me, generated by the colder temps and the endorphins pumping through my system from cooking and baking and basking in the aroma of home. I don't seem the like the domestic type, and in many ways I'm not, but when it comes to cooking and baking, just the idea of leafing through cookbooks and Gourmet or Food & Wine magazines makes me giddy with anticipation. It's the one little sliver of the shopping gene I do possess, grocery shopping. It's not unusual for me to get the urge to bake or put together a casserole or pot roast in the middle of the night and the aromas help me sleep when I eventually get to bed so that I dream of dancing sugar plums and feasting -- or noshing -- with friends and family. The urge is building to go out and wander rows of live pine trees, inhale the scent and figure out how to get one home so I can bring out my boxes of ornament treasures, untangle the lights and invite some friends for a tree trimming party. This is the season of sharing food and fun, carols and conversations. Now that I have a place big enough and no guard waiting to pounce in the downstairs hall (no downstairs and no close neighbors watching through the blinds), I think a tree is definitely in order. After all, Mom and Dad brought all my ornaments and treasures with them the last time they visited together and it's time to let them out of their enameled boxes to hang from a live tree again. I feel a tree trimming party coming on. Oh, and one more thing. I just signed a contract today for another book. I am not writing this one, but the authors requested the rights to use one of my pictures and posts in a book about feelings that will be out next year. I'll make sure you get a link to the book when it's published. From what I understand, the book will come out in several countries around the world at the same time. Not too shabby. That is all. Disperse. |
11/23/08 10:49 pm - Holiday planningIt's quiet tonight. The guy next door finally turned out the garage lights and went into his house. There are few cars whizzing by and the TV is silent. It's the weekend before Thanksgiving and all through the house not a creature is stirring, not even the mouse (he's dead). The cupboards were filled with loving care in hopes that friends will stop by and share. I could go on, but I won't. Suffice it to say that I have one more trip to the grocery store for some last minute things and the rest of the week before the big day will be spent baking and cooking for the big day, buffet style of course. The RSVPs are in and there will be food, wine and guests. I've looked through cookbooks and searched with Google to find some different things to try like pumpkin creme brulee and sweet potato pudding. It isn't that I don't love the usual holiday favorites (baked beans, candied yams, pumpkin pie, mashed potatoes, etc.); I want to try something different, to shake up the old ant farm. There will, however, be mashed potatoes, but not the usual kind. Everything will be updated or take a trip down an old-fashioned lane (chestnut stuffing). There will, however, be sweet potato pecan pie with brandied cream for those interested in such things and in the Colorado Springs area. No food will be messengered or sent overnight to those who would like to but cannot be here. Sorry about that. It's a house rule. There will also be hors d'ouevres to snack on prior to the big dinner, so come early and plan to stay late. Food digests better over a long period of time. There will also be conversation, music and movies and there might be dancing for those so inclined. For those whose Thanksgiving schedules are full, there will be turkey sandwiches and leftovers served on Friday since I'm off work that day. Stop by any time, but call before you come to find out if there is any food left -- that is if you're only coming for the food. In the meantime, enjoy the holiday. Eat slowly. Savor the company. Drive safely. That is all. Disperse. |
11/22/08 08:00 am - Make a differenceIf you haven't heard about the book crisis yet, take a look. What it boils down to is that book sellers can return unsold books and get their money back, and they did in September and October, causing a book crisis. What can you do to help? Buy books. Doesn't matter what you buy, just buy books. I say this as an author and as a reader. The holidays are coming up like a runaway semi truck down a steep grade without brakes. Instead of candy or flowers or whatever gift conundrum you're wrestling, buy books. Even if the person on your gift list doesn't read, like the fella said, "...tell them to get over it." They have the skills. It's time to exercise them, even if it's a picture book that won't take long to get through or a fancy coffee table book that makes them look intelligent and worldly and classy. Give them books. Readers need books and authors need readers. It's a symbiotic relationship. So, unless you want to be left with only the cereal box to read (newspapers are going online and ending their print runs in droves), buy books. Support the industry that teaches, informs, entertains, excites, arouses, titillates and interests and buy books. Use it or lose it. Instead of waiting for weeks, and even months, for a book at the library, buy your own. Instead of Chateaubriand, eat a peanut butter sandwich or a bowl of soup and crackers and buy a book. If they're small, buy three. Brave the cold, shop until you drop, but buy books. Write in the margins. Use a highlighter. Share it with friends, but make sure to get it back so they will buy their own, but buy books. Got it? Good. That is all. Disperse. |
11/19/08 10:06 am - Check your toxic levelsDid you know that an emotionally toxic environment can make you ill and run down your immune system? It can. Not just when you're frail and old or battling a lingering and fatal disease but when you're seemingly healthy. Do you get frequent colds, flu, etc? Are you always worn down and tired, can't sleep, feel edgy and don't know why? It could be your home environment, the place where you spend most of your time. Tension, unresolved emotional issues and discord in the home affect your immune system as though it is fighting a constant battle against a barrage of bacteria and viruses -- because it is. It also helps to have the furnace vents blown out and cleaned annually to get rid of the accumulated dust, bacteria and gunk that cycles through the air every time the furnace kicks on. It wouldn't hurt to blow out and clear the air by opening the windows, burning sage and sweet grass, cleaning with Chinese wash or some other natural herbal/resin cleaner and getting rid of the negativity in your household by ousting emotional parasites and vampires. Think I'm kidding? I'm not. I live alone but have a lot of contact with the outside world. Even when my three boys were in school and bringing home the usual childhood diseases and bacteria, I was seldom ill, which meant I didn't get to use paid sick days for myself, just for the boys. Kids pick up everything, especially germs, bacteria, viruses and disease (the little typhoids Marys and Moes), but if you're ill all the time and blaming the kids you need to start looking in another direction. That smiling face across the breakfast table or sitting on the couch across the room could be the reason for your chronic cycle of illness. Yes, the spouse holding the pillow you think is to put behind your back and raise you up so you can breathe better is really wondering whether or not an autopsy would show you were smothered instead of suffocating from congestion or a build-up of fluid in your lungs. Planning on surgery? Your spouse is trying to figure out how to make sure you die on the operating table and how long it will take before your insurance will be paid out. It might even be your lover or house mate or companion, if they're in your will or beneficiaries on your insurance policy. Or maybe that is the only way the can think of getting rid of you. All those negative thoughts and emotions may be hidden from view, but the effect isn't gone. It's circulating through the air and in the environment where you live, causing you to be ill and run down your immune system, taking its toll on your emotional and physical reserves until you run out of reserves and give up the ghost. Check your toxic levels. There is more to health than antiseptic wipes and cleaners. What's wrong with you could be sleeping next to you or in the next room, sharing your food and your space, and sucking your energy dry. That is all. Disperse. |
11/17/08 08:30 pm - Comfort foodI'm in a domestic mood. Not the cleaning kind of domestic mood, but a cooking and baking and making holiday gifts kind of domestic mood. I get this way around the holidays. I get this way other times of the year -- most times of the year. There is something so soothing and Zen about cooking and baking, about creating something for someone to enjoy, or just for myself. With T-day right around the corner, I'm thinking about turkey and chestnut stuffing and pumpkin souffles or pumpkin creme brulee instead of pie. I'm thinking of sweet potato pecan pie with brandied cream. I'm making a list and checking it twice. When I was younger, cooking was a place where I could go to tune out the noise and strife and feel safe and comfortable. Everything makes sense in the kitchen. Ingredients measure out and delicious aromas spread throughout the house, leaving behind smiles and contentment, at least for me and once upon a time for my children when they were young. Not so much for my ex-husband; he preferred the greasy, hot smell of fish and chips or shrimp and fries to cream puffs and ham with nectarine-brown sugar glaze. He didn't stick around long for the deer meat stew or cranberry-apple crepes with whipped cream and a dusting of confectioner's sugar. He wasn't into the smells and tastes of home cooking, coming as he did from a home where spices and even salt and pepper were outlawed as foreign substances The idea of taking a chicken or turkey carcass, some vegetables and herbs and putting them in a big pot to make a base for soup or gravy was tantamount to witchcraft and he wasn't fond of witches. I taught my boys at a very young age about kitchen safety and cooking, allowing them to help measure and mix and pipe homemade cream into the cream puffs or dust them with powdered sugar. They could cook pancakes and make oatmeal when they were very young, before they were old enough to go to school, and they knew how to hull strawberries and pit cherries. I taught them the same way my grandmother taught me. One of the boys even considered becoming a chef before he found out he could make more money selling modular homes. I'm still sad about that, but it's his life. Growing up around my grandparents, I learned that the best and most lasting way to say, "I love you," was by cooking and baking. My grandfather made the best vegetable beef soup I have ever had, bar none. Grandma made everything else without a recipe, knowing automatically how much of each ingredient she needed to make every meal special. I learned to make milk gravy and fry chicken standing beside her on a kitchen chair with one of her aprons tied twice around my waist. Pies, cakes, red flannel hash, fried rabbit, stuffed turkey, combination salad, ambrosia, and every good thing she taught me and I enjoyed every minute of it. When I was married, barely out of high school with a child on the way, I wandered off the tried and true culinary path and found comfort in cookbooks and exotic ingredients when I lived far away from home. It was too expensive to call home more than once or twice a year, so I stayed close to home in my heart with the sights, sounds, smells and tastes that I learned from my grandmother, promising myself that each new dish or dessert I learned I'd share with her when I saw her again -- and I did, introducing her to French cuisine and Asian cooking, Greek pastries and Spanish paella. She enjoyed it all as much as I enjoyed sharing what I'd learned with her and we had a standing weekly date for lunch when I cooked something different every time. I've traveled a lot since I left home and I've found the quickest way to make friends through food, learning ethnic dishes and sharing my favorites. Pot luck meant a creative melange of foods and aromas that would at first thought clash but complemented perfectly through the spice of friendship. I still would rather have friends to dinner or give baskets and gifts of food for the holidays. It's my favorite celebration for a party, impromptu guests or a picnic lunch out under the broad canvas of the Colorado blue sky -- or any sky. There's something special about sunshine and homemade food that smooths out the rough edges and awkward moments and breeds contentment and friendship. Winter, summer, spring or fall make no difference. There are recipes and comfort enough for all. That is all. Disperse. |
11/16/08 08:35 am - Sunday morning coming downI woke in the middle of the night because it was too warm with the thermostat set at 68 degrees. Between the hot flashes, my naturally high body temperature at night and the vent above my bed, I was roasting even though it was below freezing outside, so I got up, turned down the thermostat, drank some water and slipped back between the sheets. I drifted off in the gathering coolness and awoke again with the horizon outside my window spread with salmon pink and a golden haze over everything feeling refreshed and comfortable and not really ready to relinquish my bed. The golden haze dimmed and the clear Colorado blue sky became more distinct, the soft blue of the moonlit landscape giving way to pink and gold and then to the bright, distinct and multi-colored hues of daytime. There isn't much to do today, other than finishing a review book and laundry. I love lazy Sundays when reading is the main occupation. I'll take the trash out later or maybe wait until early tomorrow morning before the garbage men come so I don't have to get dressed. Then again, I might make the coconut cream pie I've been eyeing for a while. I have all the ingredients and something about eating silky smooth coconut cream fragrant with fresh coconut while reading a good book is enticing. I might settle for a bowl of coconut cream pudding instead while wishing for fresh warm strawberries still tasting of sunshine and spring. On Sundays I indulge my senses, take it slow and savor the peace and silence before the onslaught of Monday morning rush and bustle. Yesterday was full of chores and activity. I even mended my favorite t-shirt where time and wear and washing have taken a toll on the beautiful hand painted flower centered on the black fabric. I probably should have relegated the shirt to the rag bag but I'd miss the soft feel of the well worn fabric slipping along my skin. Just when something begins to feel really comfortable it shows its age, first with tiny holes and then when rips and tears. I have another such shirt on this morning, a big baggy purple t-shirt with tiny holes sprouting in odd places, forming communities and getting ready to become tears. I don't know if I'll mend this one or toss it in the rag bag or simply let it disintegrate slowly. It's not as revealing as the other t-shirt with its splits across my chest, revealing glimpses of skin and the tantalizing hint of colored lace, but the die is cast and it will one day be just as riddled with rips and tears. Until then, there will be many Sunday mornings and Saturdays doing chores where I'll wear one or the other as I move through the weekend between work and rest, reading and cleaning, baking and enjoying a few morsels of indulgence like today. That is all. Disperse. |
11/14/08 09:07 am - A pox on lipsSomeone told me once that I could write two books a month and I told him he was out of his mind. A book in two weeks is doable, but writing a book every two weeks is a lot of pressure, which doesn't mean I haven't done it. I have. The book I just sold I wrote in two weeks and the book I wrote in August I wrote in about two weeks. I've also moved past 50,000 words in NaNoWriMo and I'm not finished with the book, but it has been almost two weeks since I started and that's with working full time, reading, reviewing and doing a little editing. You'd be wrong to think I have no life. I have a life and it's full of work and writing and the occasional movie while I'm checking email and writing replies. It's call multi-tasking and I am a practitioner. So here I sit with a bowl of oatmeal warming my insides while I try to keep the outside warm under the faux mink blanket my mother gave me last year writing a little something for LJ while I try to figure out how I'm going to get out of typing reports today and hoping that when I sit down at the other computer I will get no work to type. Plays havoc with my pay and I end up working weekends and nights to catch up, but sometimes a girl needs a day off -- in succession with several other days off. I do find, however, that when I sit down and get past the first word or two in a story or book the rest takes care of itself by taking me out of myself and into the world of the book. Even if I only write a chapter or two a day, it's enough to carry me through the whole story. I don't, as Meg Cabot said in her NaNo email this week, cheat with other stories. I do have the odd idea on occasion and jot down quick notes on something that sparks an interest from what I see, hear and read, but when I'm working on a book I am totally committed. It's a little like being married or in a relationship with someone and happening to notice a guy or gal (depending on your preference) that passes by. S/he is cute or interesting or interestingly cute but they can't compare with the person sitting next to or across from you. Looking isn't cheating and neither is jotting down a note to remind me later that another story could be warming up in the wings when I'm through with the current story. Everyone needs a momentary distraction; I certainly do or I get stale, but a book every two weeks is something else again. I need a little downtime between books. This weekend (tomorrow) I will have some much needed downtime with a certain handsome and roguish fella who is coming by in the afternoon. Maybe this weekend he won't show up a half hour early and catch me in my comfy cleaning clothes with the ripped t-shirt that bares strategic parts of my breasts and bra. Arrive early or unannounced and there's no telling what I might be wearing -- or almost wearing. I'm not complaining and he didn't either. He said he likes my shirt as much as I do, but I think it's time to go to the hobby store and buy some embroidery thread to patch up this shirt. A satin stitched outline of the flower would help reinforce the fabric and save what's left of the flower painted on the front while making it prettier. The holes would be closed, but I might consider leaving a few of them open, just enough to be provocative without being Madonna. Tasteful and sexy, not bold and wanton. Wouldn't want to make it too easy or too obvious. A glimpse of stocking, so to speak, not a full frontal assault. I was worried earlier this week that a cold sore would seriously dampen the festivities tomorrow, but my cache of essential oils saved me yet again. Before the cold sore turned my lip into Martha's Vineyard during a winter storm I opened the little blisters and applied tea tree oil. The next day the swelling was a little bigger, but subsided during the day until there was a little more blister and a minor bump on the right side of my upper lip where I usually get my every five-year outbreak. This morning the swelling is all gone and the cold sore dried up. I'll keep applying tea tree oil until tomorrow so that it will be completely gone. It's the fastest outbreak and cure I've ever had. While talking with a friend about the pox on my lip, she said neither she nor her husband ever got cold sores. They haven't had chicken pox either. Hmmm, I thought. Must be a connection there somewhere. So, now it's time for the poll. FYI: There is a difference between cold sores and chancre sores. Cold sores occur on the skin and chancre (canker) sores occur inside the mouth in the soft tissues. Have you ever had chicken pox? Do you get cold sores? That is all. Disperse. |
11/13/08 10:24 pm - ShoweringSometimes panic is good, helping to motivate and mobilize fear into action. That's what happened the other day. I usually have a momentary meltdown and then begin focusing on solving whatever problem is in the way. I had help from a good friend who stood by and patted me on the back while I panicked. Then he offered me something to make it all better -- someone we both know, although he knows the gentleman much better than I do since they've been friends for about ten years. The gentleman is also a fellow ham and a retired graphic artist with tons of experience. Book trailers are new to him, but anyone who can put together corporative videos and art work has a big edge, and one he's willing to share with me to help me out and gain a little more knowledge and a few clips for his portfolio. None of it would have been possible without my favorite Luddite who continues to amaze me. The stage is set for the book trailer. The most amazing part about the Luddite is that he's gone out of his way to be there for me when he started a brand new job Monday last and is still getting up to speed with a metric ton of documentation and paperwork to get through. I miss chatting during the day, but at least I get to see him in person more often that originally planned. During the time we have been apart he has re-evaluated his ideas and plans and fit me back into his schedule and his life. I would have gotten through all this without him -- I always land on my feet -- but my recovery time is less and it's wonderful to have the support and his friendship. Can't ask for more. I was told this was my year and it has been. I won't say I can't ask for more because there's always more: more books, more stories, more money for writing and more friends to share the trials, trailers and tribulations, but also the joy and excitement and experiences. I can't help wondering if sometimes the Universe waits until we can appreciate them most to shower us with the good things in life. Whatever the rhyme or reason, I feel blessed. I am blessed by friends and family who support me, argue with me, fight with me and love me in spite of it all, but mostly with friends who aren't afraid to share their lives with me. Beanie's right, I'm getting sappy in my old age. Isn't it marvelous? That is all. Disperse. |
11/11/08 03:24 pm - A very thin shoe hornThe world just got more real and insistent. From author with contract for novel to author expected to writing comprehensive marketing plan and sketching out ideas for book trailer in less than a week. Yikes! It's real. I'm officially on the publishing treadmill, and I thought the signings and readings and personal interviews and appearances were tough for the anthologies. Now I have to build a web site, provide content and work on marketing before the book has been copy edited or typeset, and I signed on for this gig. I'm not sure the ink is dry on the contract yet. This is now the world of the mid list writer: marketing, PR, strategizing and selling. I need someone to be me for that part of things so I can stay home and keep writing, otherwise I'll be lucky if I can find a shoe horn thin enough to fit a little life into my life. John said that outsourcing my public persona is identity theft and there are some aspects of my identity he'd like to keep to himself. I told him to give me a list and I wouldn't outsource them. I sure hope this gets easier as I break readership statistics down from characters and venues in the book and begin making plans to make the rounds at writers conferences. I keep reminding myself this is what I signed on for, except that it's really not. I signed on to write books and sign the occasional autograph while someone else sells the books and does the PR. Okay, time to buck up and stop whining since I'm out of cheese. The publishing world has changed and it's up to me to sell the books I write just like Mark Twain, except that Twain actually hired salesmen to take his books out across the country and sell them door to door. Great! I've just become the Fuller Brush Company. That is all. Disperse. |
11/9/08 07:14 pm - Two in one dayWill wonders ever cease? I just got off the phone -- again. This time I was talking to my aunt who is also my biological mother. She had just heard about one of the stories I'd written for a Cup of Comfort anthology. After calling Mom and getting a list of all the other anthologies, she got copies of them and read them from the beginning. The first one she read was Love is Enough from Chicken Soup for the Adopted Soul. As I reread the story after John read it yesterday, it hit me that I had included her in that story and I was a little nervous about her reading it. The story still makes me cry and I wrote it. She mentioned it when we talked on this phone this evening and she said it made her cry and that she was very proud of me. She had called her sister, my Aunt Wilma, who also got a postcard from me about the latest book, A Cup of Comfort for Families Touched by Alzheimer's. Aunt Wilma wanted to know if there were other books and she wrote down the list and went out to buy all the books and read them. I have no idea what Aunt Wilma thinks about my writing, but Ann told me I have a way with words and she thought my stories were the best ones in the books. Isn't family prejudice wonderful? Makes me wish for thousands more just like them. I have spent most of the day on the phone with friends and family and answering emails from friends and family who all got the word that Past Imperfect has been bought. They're all anxious to read the book, which won't be out until next year. I'm still going through the contract, which is basic boiler plate, and noting things that still need to be negotiated. I have two more books almost ready to put out there and I have no doubt at all they will also be picked up. One book was written in August and the other started a few years ago and put aside while I wrote book reviews, articles, stories and columns. I think it's time to finish it and put it out there. About the only thing missing right now is being able to share this with Dad. In many ways, he's the person who got me fired up and putting more of my writing out into the world. I know he'd be proud of me because he was proud of everything I've accomplished so far. To him, I was already a best selling author. It's a little daunting to know that soon there will be a book with only my name under the title and more than a little overwhelming that so many of my family and friends, most of who have supported and encouraged me all these years, aren't shy about sharing their congratulations and pride even though things are not as good for them right now as they are for me. It was hard for me sometimes, as proud and happy as I am for my friends and family's success, not to wonder why, after all the hard work and time I've put in, I didn't have more of what they had. I didn't and don't begrudge them their happiness, but I wanted a small piece of it for myself. This year, I have been amply rewarded for my sometimes reluctant patience and tenacity, and I know even though everyone is happy for me a small part of them wonders when it will be their turn again. I don't have a lot of money and each month I still struggle to pay the bills and keep some food on the table (and books on the shelves), but over the past few months I feel richer than Midas and blessed, not only because my stories and books are being published, but because I have the most wonderful and faithful and amazing group of friends and family. The words are mine (and sometimes my editors') but my success and happiness I willingly share with all of you, as long as you understand I don't plan to share the checks (that goes for my sister Carol who keeps asking me when she's getting her share). I still have land to buy and a cabin higher up in the mountains to build and furnish. Thank you all for your friendship. I couldn't have made it this far without giving up without you. |
11/9/08 11:17 am - It may be too lateSince reconnecting with my best male friend, I've thought about living with him full time. I imagine him here cooking together in the kitchen, doing dishes, sharing the bathroom and sharing everything else and it feels strange. It isn't that I don't care for him or that I don't want to be with him, but I wonder if I have lost the knack of living with someone else full time. I've been single and have lived alone longer than I was married either time or living with someone else. With the kids, it was a matter of time before they were out on their own, but living with a partner, a mate, is not something with an expiration date, or at least one hopes that's the case. I've become used to quiet mornings and not rushing around fixing breakfast or showering or getting ready to go to work. I get up, go to the bathroom, climb back into bed to get warm and then get up and get ready for work. Since I work at home, there's not much to do, outside of getting breakfast, checking email and putting on warm clothes before sitting down to work. On warm days, I wear little or nothing. Sometimes I take a shower first thing in the morning and most of the time I take one whenever I feel like it. I have no fixed engagements, shop for groceries on Tuesdays or Thursdays, clean house on Saturdays, do laundry on Sundays and the rest of the time let my work and writing obligations and habits determine the shape of my days. If I don't have enough dirty clothes (I don't wear that many clothes working at home) for a load or two on Sundays, I postpone the laundry until I do have enough. I don't cook or eat on a schedule and the only fixed point on my schedule is my day job. Living with someone means changing the shape and contours of my days and I think I've lived alone for too long to be easy or comfortable with sharing space full time with anyone, even someone I love, but I am an adaptable creature. A part of me resists the change to a comfortable and workable lifestyle and the rest of me welcomes the one person I'd ever consider sharing my space with. Then again, maybe I've lived alone too long. It may be too late for me to change. In years past when people have asked me about my plans to get married, I had a list ready for them. I'd get married again if the person was older, traveled a lot, financially stable and I don't have to support him and would agree to separate homes and conjugal visits. The added plus of having one foot in a grave and the other on a banana peel was something I saved for really obnoxious people who wouldn't drop the subject. The thought that I was a gold digging mercenary made them think twice about asking any more questions. Don't want to poke the bitch in the cage. There is some hint of a shadow of a glint of hope that some day I will again share space with a partner, but I have a feeling I'll have to pay them for taking care of me and s/he will be called an aide/caregiver. Who knows? I have been wrong before. The right man and the right circumstances could help change my mind. Nah! ( Nonsequitor ) That is all. Disperse. |
11/8/08 09:12 am - The spy who conned meI have a good friend in Israel who is a retired journalist. Yesterday he sent me a request to call the White House and ask for Jonathan Pollard's release from prison on a charge of espionage. Pollard has a strange history, but the gist of it is that he spied for Israel and sold secrets to West African and Pakistani governments when he was employed by the Navy. He was paid $1500 a month to spy for Israel and also received a $10,000 sapphire and diamond ring and $10,000 in cash for his first transaction. By his own report, Pollard sold Israel 800 documents and more than 1000 cables and was caught walking out of his office with 60 documents in his briefcase. Pollard wanted to be a spy. He applied first at the CIA and was turned down when he failed a polygraph test. Pollard then went to Navy Intelligence and was hired; they don't require a polygraph test for secret security clearance. This is a man with a checkered background who used his position to sell secrets with which he was entrusted. He claims now that he was acting in Israel's best interest because the U.S. was withholding information Pollard felt Israel should have. I've read information pro and con about Pollard and I have to say my initial reaction is that whether or not he felt he was doing the right thing he went about it in the wrong way. He had no right to compromise his position as an American to sell or give information with which he had been entrusted to any other government. Pollard said he was sorry and regrets his actions, but isn't that what everyone says when they get caught and have spent a few years in prison, 23 years in Pollard's case. Although Pollard never went to trial because he preferred plea bargain to facing a jury of his peers, and because neither the U.S. or Israeli governments wanted to air their dirty laundry in a public trial, Pollard received a life sentence. Pollard and the Israeli government feel Pollard has served more than enough time for his crimes and that because he is ill he should be pardoned. Violating the terms of his plea bargain, Pollard contacted the media and laid bare the specifics of his actions. The judge, after receiving documents from Caspar Weinberger, then head of the CIA, and taking into account Pollard reneging on the terms of his plea bargain, handed down a sentence of life in prison. Pollard has never filed for parole and instead holds out for clemency and a full pardon. Israel has made Pollard's release part of the terms for some of their treaty agreements and been refused by several presidents, including Clinton who reneged on his agreement with the Israeli government to release Pollard when the head of the CIA at that time threatened to resign if Pollard was released. Obviously there is more to this picture than anyone is saying. Pollard sees things one way and the U.S. government sees things another. Weinberger stated that Pollard had endangered American lives by selling information to Israel, and other governments, that detailed sources of information, routes and names of operatives. For me, what it boils down to is this: Pollard sold information to foreign governments. It doesn't matter that he is sorry for what he did and that he's ill. Had he faced a jury he would have received more than one life sentence. He is no longer an American citizen since Israel granted him citizenship in 1995 after refusing for many years to acknowledge Pollard worked for them. Pollard sought employment in the intelligence community with the express intent of becoming a spy and selling classified documents. He doesn't deserve to be pardoned. There is much more to this case than anyone has admitted and I've no doubt that what is hidden is damning to both the U.S. and Israeli governments, but the bottom line is that an American sold out his homeland for money and continues to sell out the American people. I cannot in good conscience ask for his release and I won't. I respect my friend and I know he believes that Pollard has been imprisoned unfairly, but I don't. Anyone who sells out their country for money or publicity and recognition deserves to stay in prison. If Pollard believed that America was withholding information from Israel they should have had, there were channels Pollard could have used to bring that failure to light, but it wasn't by selling secrets and endangering lives. The fact that he has publicized his actions and seeks the limelight so fervently tells me he feels no remorse. He wants fame. He got it. Had he been so righteously indignant about the U.S. government's actions in keeping information from an ally, Pollard would have given the information free of charge to Israel and he wouldn't have contacted other foreign governments to sell secrets. Pollard is a proven liar and a glory hound who wants to be seen as a martyr. The only factor that keeps Pollard from being branded a traitor is that by law he didn't sell secrets during a time of war. Pollard is no James Bond spying for his country to thwart megalomaniacal villains from holding the world hostage intent on its destruction. He's a traitor to the land of his birth. That is all. Disperse. |
11/1/08 02:13 am - Fly, words, flyIt's not always a good idea to go to bed early, especially not on a full mind, because I wake four or five hours later and can't get back to sleep. If I decide to check my email, I know I'll never get back to sleep until morning and I have a lot to do this weekend. Such is the case tonight. I look forward to reading Funds for Writers (FFW) every Saturday morning and technically, since it's after midnight, it is Saturday morning, although I prefer to think of it as still Friday night, so when I woke just before one I checked my email and began to read FFW. Hope's editorial about her friend, Tom, from her writing group in the hospital for gallbladder surgery hit me right between the eyes. It isn't as though I've not written many times about each day being precious and not postponing life for some nebulous day in the shadowy future, but reading about Tom and how he held out for a traditional publisher while he put on one more coat of polish and ran his novel through one more edit made me realize I've been holding back, too, not in the same way, but I've been holding myself back. There are several novels residing in the bits and bytes on hard drives and floppies and CDs and DVD-ROMs that need a little more polish and one more edit. While I've been writing stories for anthologies (and getting published) and reviews and articles and blog posts in the cracks and spaces between life and my day job the novels have languished because I thought I had more time. After all, I plan to live to the ripe old age of 150 (140 now that my cousin, Ellen, scared ten years out of me the other day with her cyber-joke) and I have time, except that maybe I don't have time. There may be more days and years behind me than before me and I'm wasting them. Okay, I gave up cable television and I use my television only for watching DVDs, rationing myself to one a day, and I download what few shows I watch to cut out commercials, but I'm still wasting time by not putting more of my novels out there. It looks like I finally have one novel on its way and will fill in some blanks this weekend so the publisher and I can go to second base, but there are other novels that need just as much attention, not to polishing and editing just one more time, but to kicking them out of the nest. Having spent ten years not writing until my life and sanity depended on it and using my experience and expertise to put other people's books and stories in publishers' hands, it's time I do the same for myself. Today is the first day of National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo for those of you who have already signed on to write a 50,000-word book this month, and I have something planned, but I may put it aside to push those novels, cozy on the hard drive and protected on data disks, out of the nest and into publishers' hands. To that end, I am going to send out one novel a week until they are all making the rounds. I have no more time. Tomorrow is not guaranteed. I no longer have a gallbladder to put me in the hospital and cut off the remainder of my life and the hope of publishing my novels, but something else could go wrong. I could still die today or tomorrow or next week. There are no guarantees. The waiting for just one more anything is at an end. What do you have sitting on hard drives and disks and gathering dust and cobwebs in drawers, boxes and closets that you don't think is quite good enough to send out? Get them out, dust them off, take a quick look and send them out the door. You may collect a few rejections, but along the way some publisher may tell you what you need to hear, that you are a very talented writer and all you need to do is answer a few questions, fill in a few blanks and you've got a contract. You'll never know unless you push your hatchlings out of the nest. Not next year or next week or even after the next critique session with your writing group, but now. Don't agonize one more minute and don't discount what you already know. You may be too close to see that you have something worth saying that one publisher (you only need one) is going to claim for their schedule. Get your work out now. And that goes for anyone who is wasting time not making their dreams a reality and putting off their needs and desires until some day. First thing on my agenda after I finish writing this is filling in the blanks that the publisher asked about and getting it to her this weekend. Thank the electronic gods I don't have to wait for snail mail. I have no more time to waste. It's time to let the words fly. Thanks to Hope for reminding me that I've been sand bagging, too. That is all. Disperse. |
10/31/08 10:15 am - Happy All Hallows EveThe warm fragrance of cinnamon and sugar and freshly baked goods hangs in the cool morning air, the oven cooling in the autumn chill. Crumbs of cinnamon streusel dust my lips briefly before melting on my tongue with a tingle of warm spice. There is nothing like getting up and baking first thing in the morning, leaving the air redolent with warmth and comfort to ease the pressures of work and schedules. This morning I baked crumb cakes. I haven't had them in what seems like centuries, but is only decades. The soft moist cake topped by cinnamon, sugar, flour, butter and water were better than I remembered that leave me longing for popovers cradling fresh butter and pomegranate-raspberry preserves. I'll probably settle for a mushroom, onion and Swiss cheese omelet sprinkled liberally with dill and fresh cracked pepper. It will be a nice follow-up to the butternut squash soup that I'll make tonight. All I need is crusty fresh baked bread and a bowl of toasted pumpkin seeds sparkling with sea salt so that when I open the door to ghosts and goblins and witches tonight (with the inevitable larding of princesses and super heroes) the mingled scents of herbs and exotic spices will welcome and warm them briefly before they continue on their begging rounds. I had considered making caramel apples to give to visitors tonight, but parents are so cautious these days (as well they should be) about treats that have not come from a store hermetically sealed in plastic and I don't have any address labels made up in case there are any problems, so I will curl up with a few of the books I received yesterday from my supervisor and drink hot homemade cocoa and eat a freshly baked crumb cake propped up in bed with a few pillows and watch the stars prick the night sky above the flame-colored trees weaving up and down the face of Pikes Peak. As the veil between the living and the dead thins toward midnight, I'll keep a few cakes and a pot of cocoa nearby to share with family and friends who wish to visit for a spell. Blessed Samhain and Happy Halloween. |
10/26/08 02:08 pm - Change you can believe inI have decided to change my mind and vote for Obama. I saw Ron Howard's cogent and intelligent appeal to my intellect about why I should vote for Obama. Unlike the biased and highly slanted commentary by any of the conservative or Republican media, Ron Howard didn't play on my emotions but gave me sound and clear reasons for why Obama is the voice of change. Of course, my cousin Laura writing to tell me about how petite Cynthia Nixon (Miranda of Sex and the City fame) was at the Obama rally she attended and how Obama shook hands with so many people was just one more reason for changing my mind. No appeal to my emotions but solid facts and figures. And reading Michelle Obama's Master's thesis from Princeton on Politico was just one more articulate reason for backing the messianic icon that Obama has become. I don't need to read anything else about his 25% cut in the military budget or the life saving equipment the soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan (when the troops from Iraq are deployed in Afghanistan) will not get. I'm sold. After all, all those movie stars' homes and salaries, the money from Obama's book profits and Michelle Obama's $300K+ salary will be mine when Obama spreads around the wealth. After all, Obama said it and it must be true because he wouldn't lie about anything. I've always dreamed of a little vacation spot in Malibu. He came clean with his birth certificate, not the one he has cherished all these years but the one the Dept. of Health in Oahu, Hawaii sent him in 2007 (you can see the date bleeding through the paper), and he has answered all the questions about his ties to terrorists, black Muslims, Rev. Jesse Jackson and his plan to bail out on the Zionists in Israel who have controlled American politics since 1953 and that rascally scamp Rev. Wright and his damn whitey and America sermons and beliefs. He has proven that Ayers was just a guy in the neighborhood and the money earned from the directors of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac was payment for his hard work on their behalf. He has proven that when it comes to politics he won't play on my emotions by visiting his grandmother in Hawaii before it's too late while castigating and crucifying his opponent for taking a couple of days off to deal with the Wall Street bailout. He has cautioned his followers to persuade his opponents with sweet reason while remaining calm and respectful of the oppositions' views and beliefs, using facts and figures from his well thought out economic and international plans for the future. Obama is the voice of change and the biggest change is the redistribution of wealth from the haves to the have nots, from the upper class to the slowly disappearing middle and lower classes. The lower classes are assured that they will never have to face the harsh and demanding workaday world while there remains so much wealth and welfare to spread round. Obama is Robin Hood reincarnated, taking from the rich and privileged who have supported and funded him and giving all their money to people like me who have been struggling to make ends meet. After all, it's not Obama's fault that the Democrats have been forcing gas prices up in order to make the Republicans look bad. It's not his fault that McCain is not his ow man and nothing more than a puppet for Bush & Co. It's not his fault that all Republicans are money grubbing elitists who prefer to exploit the work ethic and are so successful. Obama has carried on a fair and honest political campaign without resorting to name calling and falsification of voter registration records. He has stuck to the issues and carefully detailed his plans for changing our future and our position in the international arena. After all, 40 million Muslims and the leader of Iran wouldn't back someone they didn't trust to watch out for their best interests. Now that's a record of change I can believe in. That is all. Disperse. |
10/24/08 10:33 am - Colorado blue skiesIn spite of all the noise and gnashing of teeth about women being brutalized and mutilated for supporting McCain (a "B" cut in a woman's cheek with a knife) and the minor furor over military absentee votes in Virginia not being counted because the law was not followed, regardless of their voting preference, I'm looking forward to the next few weeks. All the political hoopla will be over and I will get to spend an afternoon with my favorite and best male friend. He's so excited and happy right now it's infectious. He is leaving a rotten job full of hassles and idiotic corporate practices for a dream job full of challenge and opportunity. What's not to like. I'm really excited to be even on the fringe of things because he has been miserable for a long time and this is a giant step in the right direction. I hate seeing friends beaten down by life and work and unable to appreciate the smallest joys, like a brilliant autumn sun on a clear bright day or spending time talking and catching up. It has been a long road for both of us, but some things -- and most especially some people -- are worth the wait. We're taking things one step at a time and getting comfortable with each other again, but it's not a difficult or hard process because we are now and have always been friends. We've both changed over the past few years, but the changes have made us better able to see the value in a deep and lasting friendship, and that's always worth the hardships. We didn't see where the path was taking us, but it's good to find that our separate paths led us back to share the same path again. Life is about decisions, sometimes decisions that will break your heart and leave you battered and bloody and wondering why you should keep going, but those decisions will make the difference between finding out what's more important and what's not even worth considering. It's like choosing food from a buffet table. You don't have to eat everything and sometimes a little of what you want most is enough to fill you up. Besides, a little of the best is better than eating everything. My grandmother used to say that sometimes my eyes were bigger than my stomach. She was right in more ways than one. I know what I want and while it isn't what most people would choose, it's just right for me. That is all. Disperse. |
10/22/08 11:01 pm - Hip shotsI am all for political debate and commentary, but I'm really tired of the crap that is spewing out of both camps. Get real people. If you read the history books or the Constitution or even knew the laws that you're citing you might have a chance of winning the hearts and minds of the voters, but this campaign has gone beyond ridiculous. 1. It does not matter where McCain or Obama were physically born. They are still Americans because one or both of their parents were American citizens and thus being born on American soil is not necessary. McCain was born in the Canal Zone which was the same as being born on American soil because it was sovereign American territory. He was born to two American parents serving overseas on a base in the Canal Zone, and probably at Coco Solo naval base because it has the biggest and most well equipped hospital, and therefore his citizenship is not in question. Obama was born to a mother who was an American citizen. Whether or not he was born in Hawaii is not an issue because he was born to an American citizen. The only time it matters whether or not someone is born on American soil is when both parents are citizens of a foreign country. Got that? Good. Move on to something really important like issues that will affect the American people for the next four years. 2. Religion is not a good issue either because, unless you're brain dead and completely unaware, Americans claim several religions, including Wicca, Pagan, Muslim, Hindu, Catholic, all the Protestant branches, Judaism, B'hai, Buddhism, Taoism, Shintoism, Atheism, Agnosticism and many more. Whether Obama was a Muslim and became a Christian should not matter. All Muslims are not evil and all Christians are not saints or even good. The Constitution guarantees the right to choose your religion and worship as you choose, even if that religion is abhorrent to other religious beliefs. This is a non-issue and should not be a part of the debate or even a reason for dislike and dissent. Keep to the political topics that the President will have to handle and leave religion out of it. Unless you're going to ignore or rewrite the Constitution, find something else to complain about. Got it? Good. Move on. 3. Work has been very busy for me of late and I haven't had a lot of time to post, so this will have to do for now. With a delivery of books to be read and reviewed, articles to write, book contracts to look over and negotiate, stories to edit and write and a social life that includes time with my best male friend, LJ has been low on my priority list. There are only so many hours in a day and sleep is a must if I intend to do any of the above. I have taken the time to send some of you postcards about the latest Cup of Comfort book on the shelves right now and I hope they got to everyone all right. Let me know if you would like a postcard and/or a personal note. The two latest books on the shelves, bringing the year's total to six so far, with more to come, are: Cup of Comfort for Families Touched by Alzheimer's (Bedside Stories) and Chicken Soup for the Soul: Empty Nesters (Silence). Both stories have my byline: J. M. Cornwell. Go out and get your copy or borrow one from the library. All comments are welcome. 4. My mother, Beanie and Carol were in New Orleans last week and I got to play tour guide by cell phone, sparking an idea for a story that may well appear in the Last Word in Smithsonian Magazine early next year. We're still negotiating editing and terms, but things look good. 5. The Evil One (my best male friend) has led me down the primrose path once again and turned me on to True Blood and it has turned out to be a fascinating show. I've added it to my short list of Dexter, Desperate Housewives (no groans, please) and Californication. I'm being talked into trying Heroes again, but the show left me cold at the end of last season. Heroes second season was nowhere near as good as the first, although there were moments that were intriguing and seemed to fizzle. I'm not sure I have time for another show since I picked up True Blood and I'd choose vampires over enhanced individuals any day, unless they were X-Men or Spiderman or Superman, which I don't think is going to happen any time too soon. The Evil One has also spent a great deal of time making me laugh and that too is more important than posting on LJ when my time is at a premium. Laughter is, after all, the best medicine. 6. One other thing has taken my attention and that's the alleged 12,000-year-old pyramid hiding under the dirt and rocks in Bosnia at Visoko. And then there are the review books, three of which need to be read, reviewed and turned in by Tuesday next week, two profiles, and a book contract for one of my novels. As you can see, time is limited, but I'll keep checking in from time to time and see what you all are up to and post when I can. 7. It snowed today in Colorado Springs, a big, heavy, wet snow that drew me outdoors to enjoy the crisp autumn air and the golden sunlight glinting off the melting white expanse. How can I write when there are such wonders to enjoy? That is all. Disperse. |
10/15/08 08:56 am - A very liberal doseIt's becoming an alarming trend that liberals are willing to shut down and police free speech making it not quite so free and much harder to obtain. Free speech is free as long as you agree with the liberals. First it was politically correct speech and then hate crimes, can thought crimes be far behind? Liberals, my Aunt Edith. In your face politics with political aspirants for the country's highest positions telling followers to get in the opposition's face and argue with them, shout them down if necessary, now that is the way to sweet reason and changing minds. Add in ACORN's heinous voter registration tactics and you have more of this. Now that is change you can believe in whether you want to or not. That is all. Disperse. |
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