Wishing everyone much love and happiness in the coming year.
I’m grateful for many things, including time with these shorebirds at Indian Shores, Florida.
Month: December 2008
Brain Glitch
Today was supposed to be our day to pack for our trip to Florida.
Zebu and I went out to buy swim goggles since we can’t find ours.
On the way home Zebu and I discussed our flight.
I said we couldn’t get a direct flight to Tampa.
He wondered where we changed planes.
I said, "Atlanta?"
An hour after getting home I checked our flight itinerary to see if I’d remembered correctly.
WTF?
Date of departure: Friday, December 19 at 9:40AM
Isn’t today Friday,December 19? Isn’t it nearly 1PM?
Called Zippy at work to give him bad news.
Zippy said many colorful things.
Zippy apologized over and over, blaming himself.
I reminded Zippy of all the pressure he was under when making those reservations a month ago.
I pointed out how hard it is trying different airlines, different dates and times, in an
attempt to get the best deal.
I told him he had nothing to apologize for.
Not sure if he believed me but he stopped berating himself.
Well, we lucked out because the airline changed our flight to Sunday for no extra cost.
We can thank today’s weather advisory which made this change possible.
Called my mom to tell her we wouldn’t arrive until the 21st rather than the 20th.
She said, "When you first told me you had reservations you said they were for December 19."
Oh, my.
Zippy didn’t screw up.
I did.
I think I got it in my head we were going from December 20-27.
And I repeated that false info until we all took it as fact.
I’m trying hard to remember all the kind things I said to Zippy when he was beating himself up.
Wish I’d tape recorded that spiel.
As for that change-over in Atlanta? WRONG! We were (and are) flying through Indianapolis.
Sigh.
Paper Rules
For anyone who still doesn’t understand why PAPER BALLOTS are better for democracy than ELECTRONIC VOTING, go here to watch the Minnesota Canvassing Board in action. The U.S. Senate race between Norm Coleman and Al Franken was so close the decision is coming down to the board hand-counting the challenged paper ballots.
Remember, accurate counts such as this are NOT possible when voters are forced to use unverifiable, black- box voting.
Paper rules.
Feeder Therapy – Day 1
You’ll need your imagination for this.
Number one on the list is imagining I have an awesome camera.
Okay, imagine a feeder filled with American Goldfinches.
Next, picture a much larger Flicker flying in to land on the feeder, scattering goldfinches.
Pause a split second as The Bravest Goldfinch of All returns to the feeder.
Imagine a couple more goldfinches tentatively returning.
Hop. Hop.
Count to ten and watch the Flicker fly off again as a mini-swarm of goldfinches,
brave and not-so-brave, returns.
Grief Timeline
Today is four weeks since my dad died. Early on, several people who do grief counseling told me my thought processes would be messed up/foggy for three weeks. It’s true. They were. Are.
This morning for the first time I not only itched to get working again but felt as if I could do some decent work. I’ve fallen out of my 1000 words/day habit and haven’t started revising my funny MG boy book. However, last week I wrote up notes and thoughts surrounding draft 1 of another book (BB) and printed those out so I could hit the ground running on draft 2 when I pull it out again in several months. I forced myself to do this because I was sure that project was the culprit taking up valuable space in my brain, keeping me from the revisions and writing 1k words/day on a new project.
So this morning, free from that other project, I felt the itch. Not only that, I felt like my old writer self feeling the itch. Me and the itch. I decided it was time to do some scratching, time to get serious about those revisions.
I opened my laptop and started reading through revisions notes I’ve taken over the past four weeks. Suddenly, I felt teary and panicked and overwhelmingly tired. And I knew I wasn’t quite ready.
I closed the laptop and took a nap.
I’m sure I was right about the other project taking up valuable real estate in my head. But I obviously still need a little more time to make a little more space for my grief.
Patience isn’t one of my strengths but in this case, I guess I don’t really have a choice. It just means I’ll have more time for watching birds in the feeder. That is, until the Cooper’s Hawk arrives to sit on my back fence and all the juncos and sparrows and finches disappear until the coast is clear.
Eventually they’ll be back, and so will I.
Delusions R Us
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Bonding
Wildebeest considers me the enemy. The Man.
His friends are nervous around me as a result of
the Wildbeest rants they’ve heard over the years.
I’m strict. I’m controlling. I’m a hippie freak. I don’t
like video games about killing. I make him take vitamins.
Friday night Wildebeest had his two best friends over for a sleepover.
One friend, D, is on the wrestling team. D’s coaches told him
he needed to cut his Shaggy-do before the next day’s tourney or
they’d cut it afterward using the tape scissors.
After much consultation including me reminding everyone what
Wildebeest’s bangs looked like in sixth grade when I accidentally
chopped them off WAY too high on his forehead, we came up with a plan.
Wildebeest did the early work as he used the clipper’s #5 attachment
to remove inches of hair. J snipped rogue strands. I offered suggestions
and swept the floor. When it got to the final shaping stage, I took over
the clippers.
Two hours after we started the consultation, D had a new haircut. And you
know what he said?
“My mom was right. She kept telling me I’d look better with short hair.”
Did Wildebeest immediately ask for his haircut?
No.
Is that okay by me?
Hell, yes. We choose our battles around here and hair ain’t one of them.
D looks good. Wildebeest is actually proud of my help with D’s hair.
And yesterday when J overheard Wildebeest giving me some mild-mannered lip,
he admonished Wildebeest about being sassy.
Wow.
New Project, New Notebook
Bad lighting and big shadows can’t obscure this recommendation.
THE POCKET MUSE: ideas & inspirations for writing By Monica Wood
is a fine little book. Filled with black and white photos and quotes
and story starters and snippets of genius such as
There is a special throne in heaven
for poets, who labor in obscurity.
The rest of us harbor an unexpressed
hope for fame and glory.
You might be tempted to write
for a market. You might be tempted
to ride the crest of a trend.
That kind of writing is about as stable
and fulfilling as day trading.
Write what moves you. Write what
interests you. Write what frightens
you. Write what thrills you. Take a
cue from the poets, bless their
underfunded little hearts.
Two days ago I happened upon a name that resonated with me.
I wasn’t sure what to do with that name.
I pulled out THE POCKET MUSE and started turning pages.
I found what I needed.
My new project has a new notebook.
I’m excited again.
44 U.S. Presidents in 4 Minutes
This is very cool. From George Washington to Barack Obama, each president’s face morphs into the next. Set to Ravel’s Bolero.
It’s good to finally see a person of color, and it’ll be grand to someday soon see some women, too.
Tracy Abell 