My Love for You Is A Ruby, An Emerald, A Diamond In a Box

Fri, 17 Apr 2009 09:15:22 GMT

Did I mention that Gary has a room for his band? No? He does. It's in a building that also has rooms for three other bands (Kramus practices there and 7 Days Away as well). Practice time in the evenings, no problem. Which is a good thing, for whenever Gary and Will tried to practice at home, it got on their father's nerves. For it is loud. Verily.

And, the band has songs. Nothing polished yet, but six pieces. One of them very up and down; pop and heavy. There are songs with screaming.

Then, this, yesterday, was the day that the high school band went and played for the local grade schools. Will played bass drums. Except at one school where he played around on the drum set. No big deal, he said, he did the same thing in Middle School.

There was a dress code for this. Black dress pants. He wore his skinny jeans.

33 is a good number.

Sun, 29 Mar 2009 21:28:34 GMT

I will now have to write a story. Or a readable fragment.

This is a good thing.

Car repair tip of the day

Tue, 06 Jan 2009 00:25:55 GMT

According to my son, if your alternator is locked up, spray in about a can of this special break it loose lubricant and bang on the alternator over and over again with a soft metal hammer.

New Year

Thu, 01 Jan 2009 14:54:42 GMT

Yesterday, or early today, I made it up in time to see the confetti fly at Time's Square, unless that was a blizzard and snow instead of paper. All the children were out and about celebrating elsewhere and at the time I'm toasting in 2009 with sparkling grape juice, Dale Senior was asleep as well.

Last year wasn't that good for me and I decline to go through all the tripfalls and downward spirals of it. No, no summary from me, although I suppose if I looked long enough and hard enough I'd find some uplifting moments. I made it through it all, and, it could have been worse.

I'm not one for resolutions either. I did find a fragment of an idea that I might work upon. It's called "word of the year" and what a person does is choose a word like a mantra to carry them forward through the new year. Plaster that word everywhere so that every day you think of it, carry it with you, live by it for a year. The word I've chosen is "Compose." It has a dual meaning and I love duality. Compose in the sense of creating, writing. But, also, compose as in the sense of composure. Keeping myself together through difficulty and trouble. I shall aspire to carrying myself forward with grace and serenity. Having always been a nervous, flighty child, I believe it is time to settle and, well, compose myself. At least, it is a worthy goal.

Now, I find myself with a new day and a new year before me and I have to decide what to do with it. There will be corned beef to prepare for the day's dinner which has become a tradition for us, but there may be something else, something more, and I'm excited to find out what it is. May your day be as bright and shiny as mine. And, may your upcoming year be wondrous.

Tue, 30 Dec 2008 10:48:09 GMT

Something the person at the register in the grocery store should never do: take a good long look at one of your purchases and, then, say, "That looks awful." She should, also, not overcharge for three apples and, then, say, "Do you still want to purchase these?"

And, speaking of shopping, when you order a gift online and it isn't delivered, even though the UPS tracking says it was, it is absolutely wonderful when the merchant (ThingsRemembered) remakes your order and special delivers it to you.

Dancing

Wed, 24 Dec 2008 13:54:01 GMT

I awoke at heavens-forbid o clock in the morning (I know, yes, my sleep habits are all out of sync!) and I'm already behind for the day. For those things I was going to do yesterday were cancelled due to ICE on the streets. I couldn't even walk without the slippery-slide. But I have music (not screaming songs either!), but dance music and I danced with my iPod in the kitchen as I fixed breakfast for the most senior and the most junior members of the family. Now to awaken the girly-girl member of the family and head out for a day of hunting gathering. I am so excited and happy. Merry Eve everyone!

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Wed, 03 Dec 2008 01:29:14 GMT

I'm a day ahead of everyone. Because when I wake it is the third shift which is actually your tomorrow. My way, today is my husband's mumblemumble birthday. It is also our TWENTY-SIXTH anniversary. Going prior to the official vows, we have been together for THIRTY years. THIRTY YEARS! Yay, us!!!1!!

When I was going through pictures to share last week, I came across a small number from the early years we were together. Back when I was skinny with long hair, long arms, long legs. My dear one's comment when he looked through them. "You look so very young."

Maybe. *gringrin*

November 4th

Wed, 05 Nov 2008 00:11:49 GMT

I voted early this morning. After I dropped the kids off at school, and we were early enough that I missed the blockade for the front school entrance. Yay! If we're a few minutes later, I have to drop them off in the back, back where the teachers park.

So, there was one person in front of me, voting, when I walked in. I went down the line, showing my identification, signing two forms. I was the forty-ninth voter. I went into the voting booth which was a paneled table with the electronic voting machine. I viewed all the pages, made my selections, pressed the red buttons. When I left, one person had come into the room and one person was entering the building.

In celebration, I had pancakes and sausage from McDonald's which I ate with syrup, although I do not like syrup. It was a celebration so I had the syrup whether I wanted it or not.

Readings

Sun, 02 Nov 2008 15:01:47 GMT

What I am reading, or reading from, this weekend, my weekend almost past:

The December issue of "The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction." I received it in the mail yesterday. I'm about halfway through the Robert Reed story. It doesn't seem to be my favorite story, but I have to be careful of Reed's work. Sometimes, the ending switches my opinion. What could be my least favorite read turns into something amazing.

The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror, 2008, the Twenty-first Annual Collection, edited by Ellen Datlow and Kelly Link and Gavin J.Grant. Okay, so I'm sort of skipping around in this collection, because I'd read a number of the stories last year. I did get a chance to read "The Cambist and Lord Iron; A Fairy Tale of Economics" by Daniel Abraham. That story had been available online for the reading (because it was up for a Hugo award) but I'd had a terrible time getting it to download, to download, every time I tried (and I tried half a dozen times, I'm sure). Worth the wait, oh yes, a delightful story about the economics behind, well, unusual things. (Btw, Daniel Abraham is the author of the short story, "Flat Diane," although "TC&LI" is nothing in content or style like that story.) I, also, enjoyed the Billy Collins poem. Although I had to pause and search for why the ending, what the ending, and I think I answered my own question/s. So, okay. Karen Russell's "Vampires in the Lemon Grove"....just saying I had bats in women's hair in one of my stories prior to the publication of this one and if that story ever gets published, remember I did not take an element of the Russell story and twist it into one of mine. It was always already there. This story by Russell also made it into The Best American Short Stories, 2008 edition, edited by Salman Rushdie. It's a vampire tale, but not one like any I have ever read. It isn't stereotypically a vampire tale, except...except that it is. It is about a monster. An ancient, immortal creature whose hunger is impossible to apease.

And, so, I am, also, reading fiction out of The Best American Short Stories, 2008 edition, edited by Salman Rushdie which I picked up yesterday at Hastings. I am thrilled that George Saunder's story, Puppy, is in that collection. Because when I read it last year, it had a lasting impression upon me. It isn't a pretty story, mind you, it has people in it that are stark and ugly. It compares and contrasts two different lifestyles, two very different lifestyles of women who are wives and mothers. The conclusion hits like a power punch, at least, my conclusion did. I read "Admiral" last night. Another power punch story. And, there is stories by Kevin Brockmeier, Jonathan Lethem and Alice Munro to look forward to.

Last, a novel, I am reading an advance copy of Couch by Benjamin Parzybok. It is an advance copy of the novel because I will be reviewing it. On my journal. What do you call the opening in a novel, the first 50 pages? the first 100? all the way to the middle? I have reached the first option on the opening and I am all about the protagonist and his situation. Thom, even his name is great, he's a large ogre of a man who found an apartment, but lost his girlfriend as well as his job. His two roommates are a varied sort, varied in personality and talents. They've been evicted from their apartment due to circumstances beyond their control. And, that comfy couch they've been sharing, too nice to abandon totally, they've carried to Goodwill and when Goodwill wouldn't take it, they've carried it to a secondhand store where circumstances were such that it wasn't accepted there either. Even talking about the book here, makes me want pick it up and read more of it.

And as a final note, a while back, I did finish reading, finally, Micheal Chabon's The Yiddish Policemen's Union which was brilliant, but not really for me. And, Hannah Tinti (she had a collection of stories titled Animal Crackers that I read a few years ago), her book, The Good Thief, I liked it too, but especially the way she gathered together the opening and the middle for the fairly happy ending. Kudos.

Sat, 01 Nov 2008 12:57:20 GMT

Last night, while I was waiting for small children in costume and large children with painted faces, I searched the internet for spooky content. Not too spooky for I didn't want nightmares or bad karma, both of which are sort of the same, but not really. In my search I came across the Winchester Mystery House.

There are many wondrous things about the house besides the story behind it. There are doors that open upon air, doors that lock behind you, windows that look into rooms, fireplaces, stained glass, spider webs, the number thirteen everywhere.

As I often do, I did an image search and in my search, there, a stairway to nowhere. It is a polished wooden stairway, maybe Maple, with similar wood lining the sides. It rises upward, neverending until it reaches a wooden ceiling with a disconnected pipe. I've dreamt of stairways like that one. Strange narrow stairways rising upward, but instead of a ceiling blocking the way, there is a narrow opening in which to squeeze through. Once through the opening, there is a secret room with mysterious people, some who I may know or some that in my dream I think I know, and these people are in an exclusive club, having a informal exclusive meeting and I cannot tell whether they are happy to see me or not. It doesn't matter, I join them, glancing through fantastic literature set about the room, or pulling upon the elbow of a person with a familiar face to ask a question or two. Sometimes, that question is how to exit that secret room without having to squeeze through that tiny space over the stairway again. It seems that there is a conventional entrance and exit and I take that way even though it leads to more staircases and rooms with steps up and into odd spaces or into winding hallways or other ornate chambers where people gather and talk or tiny little rooms hidden behind a crack in the wall where I find the children playing with blankets and wooden toys, maybe a stuffed animal or a doll that is porcelain and priceless, when they all should be sound asleep.

Or treat or tricking at my house, where I received not a single child or teenager, but my street was dark and empty with no other lights on, so it must have been bypassed for richer territory.

Or maybe they heard about my lack of Twix bars.

LOLCat Art Show

Sun, 26 Oct 2008 14:12:56 GMT

KTHX.

Photo meme

Thu, 18 Sep 2008 22:51:52 GMT

9.18
Originally uploaded by pnew8.

Take a picture of yourself right now.
don't change your clothes, don't fix your hair...just take a picture.
post that picture with NO editing.
post these instructions with your picture.

(I've been sick. Am sick. I'll try not to die.)

Thu, 11 Sep 2008 12:12:12 GMT

My eldest son, Dale, talking about parkour.

Sun, 07 Sep 2008 12:57:45 GMT

- Post a Comment and I'll randomly assign you a letter (A - Z in the English Alphabet);

- Then you have to respond by listing ten things you LOVE that begin with that letter.

- Afterward, post this in your journal and give out some letters of your own.

ophelias1 gave me the letter T.

Tattoo -- Ink, brilliant array or simply black, etched, stained upon/within the surface/ skin. Hidden or public. Silent and screaming.

Tattoo -- Not the ink, but the pattern, the sound; rain, fingers, scissors on paper.

Tea -- Iced, sweet and without lemon. Or hot and honeyed, in a china teacup on a china saucer, both with gold trim and the pattern of wild pink roses.

Teal -- Not the color, but the sound of the word as it slides past tongue and teeth, lips. As it rests in the air. Or maybe the color. if it is combined with purple and orange, yellow and red. Bold and painful.

Tenacious -- Youth and passion, passion and desperation.

Thomas -- The teenager, once always on a skateboard, then, he was the man without a board, but with a baby, babies, responsibility, a wife, another. Both left him, alone, on unsteady ground.

Trailer parks -- The potential and the variety, the ugliness, and the flowers.

Transcendentalism -- Ascension.

Tuesday -- A word that means two things, a little day of the week, but, moreso, a segment of a title, whatever title, titles, that I gift inanimate objects with. I hold Tuesday in my hand or against my cheek, I loose Tuesday and, then, I find it again. And again. And again.

Tolerance and turbulence -- Strength, peace and the thunderstorm sweeping across fields of corn and beans, late on Sunday night, as I drive to work.

Wed, 03 Sep 2008 00:21:14 GMT

Message to whoever is using my butterknives as screwdrivers/pry bars, stop.

Thu, 28 Aug 2008 10:53:58 GMT

Right dab in the middle of August's The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction is a most stunning science fiction novella. "Arkfall," by Carolyn Ives Gillman, (who is my new sf writing hero, interview found here) is a story with a young,female protagonist facing personal challenges that reflect social difficulties within a brave new world. There's depth to this story and science and characters you wouldn't expect, but it is all made of shiny and deserves a Nebula recommendation. Or ten of them. Someone do that for me, would you?

Sat, 23 Aug 2008 13:04:35 GMT

Downtown
Originally uploaded by pnew8.

This semester, because Josie is graduating in December, my daughter has two English classes that duplicate one another, a Senior level English and one on British Authors, so her teacher asked her if she would like to treat one of them as an independent study.

"How would that work," she asked.

"Well, do you like to read?"

"Yes..."

"How about you read some books by British authors and then, we get together and discuss them. Do you know any British authors you'd like to read?"

"How about Jane Austin?"

"I love Jane Austin, that would be great."

And, thereafter, a trip was made to the library for the gathering of such book.

When Josie came home, this is what she cried: "I'm getting a grade for READING BOOKS!" (We might have discussed a few possibilities, but I'm afraid she just isn't all that interested in British science fiction.)

That conversation with her teacher happened the first week of school, Thursday. There had been a time schedule made for the reading of books. Three weeks per book. On Tuesday, she reported to her teacher that the first book had been read and what did she want her to do at this point. The teacher looked at her with stun. "Ah, make a list of twenty-five major events of the novel." At the end, of the period, Josie handed this request in. "There were more than twenty-five events, but I thought you wouldn't mind."

There was another trip to the library and another Jane Austin novel checked out. While she was looking over the library's content on the computer terminal, her teacher stopped beside her, paused, and asked, "Are you thinking of reading that book too?"

"Yes," Josie replied. She was looking at Wuthering Heights.

Most of her classmates in the British Authors class are reading, why, I don't even have to say it. You already know whose work it is.

Mark the Final Hour

Mon, 18 Aug 2008 08:48:54 GMT

August 16, 2008
Originally uploaded by pnew8.

Will's band, his garage band, Mark the Final Hour, look they have a myspace page, had their first public appearance on Saturday. It was for a benefit that gives guitars to kids. This was the way they were described by the MC, "They been called different, unique, and something calling screaming." Unfortunately, the establishment made a ruling that the kids there to see the band COULD NOT MOSH, but there was some headbanging.

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 09:21:32 GMT

On the morning of Gary's fifth birthday, I began to feel uncomfortable. "Would you mind," I asked the five year old, if I had the baby on your birthday? Would you mind sharing?" After a moment of consideration, he said no, he didn't mind sharing. Almost twelve hours later, I gave birth to William. Yesterday, he celebrated his sixteenth birthday. Because last year, with Dale in the nursing home, there was no birthday cake for the boys, I made up for it this year with cake for each and balloons. I was often asked the question as to whether I'd really had two on the same day. I always replied yes. One woman at my answer said that she had two on the same day as well. Three years apart. "My daughter wanted a dalmation puppy and what she got her brother."

"Aren't You Glad I'm a Good Kid"

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 08:25:07 GMT

Yesterday was Gary's birthday and he turned twenty-one. Twenty-one! The legal drinking age. He spent the evening, (he works night shift on the weekends) as he often does, playing guitar at a friend's house. This friend lives out of town (Liberty) and a few minutes ago as he was on his way home, he was pulled over by a State Trooper who took one look at his driver's license and said, "I'm going to give you a sobriety test." And, he did, all of them, including a breathalyzer test. "Aren't you glad I'm a good kid," he asked me and then showed me the little plastic tube the trooper told him he could keep. Yeah, I'm glad.

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 22:19:06 GMT

Thank you for the birthday wishes! Contrary to my doctor's words of warning, everything did not fall apart. Yay!

Born in the Fifties

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 12:00:38 GMT

Oooh, wow, half of a century!

Have a piece of cake.

Four shouldn't

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 22:38:00 GMT

I should not buy chocolate drink thinking it is chocolate milk. And, the grocery should not put gallons of chocolate drink right beside the gallons of white milk.

I should not stand on the porch during the worse thunderstorm of the season. Friday night. Tornadoes sighted north and east. (So does said the husband, who also has said, not to worry about the lightning because the trees in the property behind us is tall and will get the lightning before anything around the house will.)

I maybe should not be reading more than three fictions at the same time: Paper Cities, The True Meaning of Smekday and F&SF. Not to mention the new issues of Lone Star Stories and Clarkesworld.

I shouldn't shrimp on the groceries (or the handy, nourishing snack food) when school is out for summer. School is out for summer. Wow.

Sat, 31 May 2008 16:24:45 GMT

In yesterday's mail, the July issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction. What a wonderful cover, and the mailing label was attached to the back of the issue, instead of the front, so I could see the entire artwork. Color! Detail! Extraordinary detail. The kudos goes to Mondolithic Studios. And, it is a story-related artwork, artwork for Michael Blumlein's story, "The Roberts," which I immediately began to read and immediately fell in love with the sentence structure. Look at this opening sentence:

Long before Grace, before Claire and Felicity, before the two men who wrecked his life, there was him and him alone, Robert Fairchild, first and only child of June and Lawrence, warm and cozy in his mother's womb.

Isn't that the one of the most successful opening sentences ever?

But, besides that, more such sentences followed. Sentences that had me twisted in knots of envy and awe.

I'm afraid to finish the story, but, then, again, I can hardly wait to read more.

The "Self-Indulgent Woe Is Me" Post

Mon, 19 May 2008 11:08:57 GMT

Only three things because three things are enough.

No writing this week.

The little plastic nose pieces on my glasses have disappeared. It's not so much 'oh, my nose,' but the 'darn, the head tilt.'

I realized yesterday, as I was calling the Dairy Inn to place a order, that I have more numbers for restaurants on my cell phone than I have the telephone numbers of friends.