The one thing that you have that nobody else has is you.
Your voice, your mind, your story, your vision.
So write and draw and build and play and dance and live as only you can.
~ Neil Gaiman
Started my day with some hoop dancing, and now it’s off to write.
Today feels like a wonderful day to be me.
Thanks for reading this. Now go be you.
“If a bunch of words are cut from a novel and no one is around to read them,
did they ever exist?”
Who among us hasn’t wanted to pull
a banana on someone/something?
“Stop or I’ll fruit!”
Today I’m feeling a bit like this as I revise:
There are visibility issues, doubts and uncertainties, and a nagging worry that the whole endeavor is about to go into a skid. Nonetheless, I’m enjoying the ride and can’t wait to see the end result when the dust settles.
Guaranteed cure-all:
watching Loki fly on by.
Bet you can’t not smile.
It was Zippy’s week to choose our date and he chose LOVING VINCENT.
It’s the first ever fully painted feature film, painted by a team of over 100 artists.
That’s 65,000 painted frames.
Visually, the movie was stunning. Narratively, it was a bit bumpy.
Still and all, I’m glad to have experienced it. Vincent Van Gogh felt things very deeply, and any celebration of sensitive people can only be a good thing for humanity.
Because you love all things flora and fauna,
I’m sending you a bee-bejeweled bouquet.
Lots of love and lavender to you on your special day…
When Zebu was a high school senior, he brought home a paper outlining the “rules” for senior photos. In addition to sensible guidelines such as “Do not wear sunglasses,” and “No props such as guns or weapons or other offensive material,” was “Students’ heads should not be pressed between two trees.”
October 13, 2017
Ever since reading that, we take every opportunity to photograph ourselves with heads wedged between two trees. Granted, Emma and I are nowhere near wedged in this photo, but it’s the thought that counts.
Zebu would approve.
Revision is all about keeping in mind the big picture and the many, many details that go into creating that big picture. Because a novel is kinda like a forest, which is nothing without its trees.
Hike in Staunton State Park, Oct 13, 2017
Zippy and I just returned from a city council candidates’ forum. We heard from the three candidates running for one of the two seats in our ward. It was my first time attending a ward function.
Ugh. Our neighborhood ward is essentially run by a cabal of older, reactionary people.
Know what? After fifteen minutes trying to arrange my thoughts in a coherent manner for this post, I give up. I can’t bring myself to rehash their disrespectful, clique-ish behavior or the dog whistle language they use to work everyone into a fear-based lather. It pissses me off too much.
Instead, I’m going to escape into my fiction. Some of the characters in my novel are also horrible people, but I ultimately have power over their lives. If I want to load them all on a bus and drive them over a cliff, I can do that. In real life, not so much.
Trust me, two birds here
Damned chickadees always move.
Changed my mind, love it.
Today I’m thankful for love, health, and strength,
and am beaming that gratitude back east . . .
To love beauty is to see light.
~ Victor Hugo
Yesterday was a beautiful autumn day, sunny and in the low 60s. Zippy and I spent the afternoon working in the yard, trying to catch up on our much-neglected gardens that have run amok. The sun shone through the leaves and I paused in my work to capture this vibrant image:
I made a conscious effort to fully experience the colors and balmy temperatures, because there was a huge weather shift on the way. This morning we woke to about 4 inches of snow on the deck railing (currently 8 inches or so).
Tomorrow is supposed to be sunny with a high of 51 degrees. Welcome to Colorado.
If you look carefully, you can just barely see Loki’s tail curled around Zippy’s neck. Zippy’s stern expression to the contrary, he is basking in the adoration of his furry friend. Some people like to keep their cat-love on the down-low.
Welcome, ungulate
nibbling the flower garden.
I’m happy to share.
I love writing.
I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions.
~ James A. Michener
And now, back to it . . .
These guys are so noisy in the spring,
banging on the rain gutters and downspouts
to advertise their territories.
Today? Nothing that I can hear,
although they might be talkin’ smack to each other
out there on the wire.
Probably not.
Birds strike me as being less dickish than humans.
I know I’m not alone in feeling overwhelmed by all the horrifying happenings in the world right now. In an act of self-preservation, I’ve spent today in a fictional world that exists in my head. I’m revising my middle-grade novel, spending time with some funny girls and “bad” guys who, in the big scheme of things, aren’t really all that bad. I know that I need to return to reality tomorrow and behave as a contributing member of society, but right now I’m hunkered down in a happier place.
It’s October 1st which means it’s time for our neighbors across the street to display their creepy inflatables. So far, there’s no sign of the coked-out cat from last year.
But, to be honest, I’m not entirely sure what’s out there right now. It’s very windy and the inflatables aren’t standing at attention. When I passed them earlier, I thought that long, cylindrical inflatable was somehow attached to the jack o’ lantern.
However, from this angle, it looks more like a pumpkin-head dracula doing a face-plant.
Or push-ups.
Or maybe he dropped a contact. Whatever his deal, I’m just glad he’s not staring in my window.
Today Zippy and I went to Berry Patch Farms in Brighton, Colorado.
Michelle’s mother and sisters arranged to have a bench and stone placed there in her memory, seeing as it was one of Michelle’s favorite places to visit with her young daughter.
At the top of the stone is a quote from Michelle: “Now this is what a strawberry should taste like.”
Note: the rooster windchime on the tree was there before Michelle’s bench. Can you say SERENDIPITY?
On their frequent visits to the farm with the old red barn, Michelle and her daughter would watch the chickens and roosters.
They’d pick berries together and take home bouquets of cut flowers.
Today, Michelle’s mother, sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, nephews, and friends gathered in her memory. For the past two weeks or so, the weather has been uncharacteristically cold and rainy, but today the sun was shining in a blue, blue sky. The morning was lovely, and I suspect Michelle pulled some strings to make it so.
It was bittersweet being at the farm without Michelle, but here I am warming her cheery red bench along with three of the Writing Roosters, the critique group she lobbied to include me in its membership. Michelle’s generosity lives on.
Jenn Bertman, Tracy Abell, Jen Simms, Laura Perdew (Vanessa Appleby & Claudia Mills were unable to attend)
Me and my french press
on National Coffee Day.
Warm. Caffeine. Goodness.
There’s no palette as rich as a garden.
And the intensity of it – I make this statement all the time:
You can’t plan nature; you court her.
~ Robert Irwin
It was my turn to choose our “date night” activity, and I chose the AMERICANA juried exhibition at Colorado Photographic Arts Center. CPAC is Denver’s only nonprofit dedicated solely to photography.
There are 32 photos in the exhibit. Images include a man holding a Confederate flag, groups of people at small town parades, dead coyotes in the back of a pickup adorned with a U.S. flag, a girl and her goat at the county fair, and cell phone towers that are camouflaged as a eucalyptus tree in one photo and crosses outside a church in another (two of my favorite photos in the exhibit).
This powerful photo (Alister & Sherie) is from Michael Joseph:
Zippy chose this as one of his favorites, should a mythical Uncle Mortie show up with a blank check to buy one of the photos. I, too, admire this image, but don’t think I could summon the emotional courage to look at it every day.
Tracy Abell 