I’m bird-rich right now:
Robins
Starlings
Flickers
Finches
Sparrows
But only the Finches and Sparrows are cooperating with the camera and lighting…
Even though it’s snowy and cold right now
these little guys make me feel warm inside.
Uncategorized
One inch
Apparently Zebu and Wildebeest’s limit
for filth is one inch.
As in that’s how deep the dust was in their rooms
before they cleaned today.
And it seems that’s about as disgusting as they want to go.
Is it totally pathetic I’m celebrating the fact
my teen-aged sons have a Filth Limit?
Friday Five: The ADD Edition
Here’s a scary little peek into my head this morning:
1) Okay, before I do anything else I need to put that laundry in the washer
2) but wait a minute, this gift I planned on contributing to the gift exchange doesn’t meet the spending minimum
3) which reminds me I also haven’t gotten anything for my brother yet but
4) maybe there’s some cool Neil Young memorabilia on ebay I could get for him
5) oh, forget it, I can’t afford that $999 autographed guitar and plus wasn’t I supposed to finish revisions today?
There’s no escape
Roland Hedley covers the Tiger Woods story.
And comes up with an angle every writer can appreciate:
DOONESBURY by Garry Trudeau
Because there’s always a vampire angle.
Live Journal formatting problems
Is anyone else having trouble?
My post from yesterday is all messed up.
I’m trying to post a comic strip right now and the words wrap around the strip.
Aargh!!!!
Endorphins!
wrote about her run today
and inspired me to get off my butt
so I could also enjoy the relatively balmy December temps.
She included a fun post-run pic so I’m doing the same.
And if any of you are experiencing the almost-winter blahs,
I highly recommend a brisk run around the neighborhood.
You, too, could experience this kind of high! 
(And WTF with LJ formatting?!)
Thinking deep and complex thoughts
I’m plotting today.
What are you doing?
Gift Ideas
Yesterday the Street Reach volunteers
bagged gifts for our annual toy drive.
This year we provided gifts for 1000 children
from about 320 families.
When families sign up they provide the sex and age
of each child and we give each a gift.
The gifts are sorted by age groups and we walk around
"shopping" for the right gifts which we put in a numbered bag.
Even though it’s a good cause, I get a little tense
because selecting gifts feels like sex-role stereotyping.
Dolls-for-girls and footballs-for-boys sort of thing.
(My family donated books but there weren’t nearly enough).
I’m putting together a list of suggestions for next year’s drive
and I thought you all might have some great gift ideas.
We especially fell short for the teens (and there were lots this year).
We try to keep the gifts at $10 or less (bought on sale).
I’d appreciate any sex-neutral suggestions.
Thank you in advance!
Obama’s Big Sellout by Matt Taibbi
No, I’m not talking escalation in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Or health care reform.
I’m talking about how "the president has packed his economic team with Wall Street insiders intent on turning the bailout into an all-out giveaway."
Here’s the link that takes you to Matt Taibbi’s article, "Obama’s Big Sellout," in the current issue of Rolling Stone.
I forced myself to read the article.
I hope you’ll read it, too.
Obama and all those rich Wall Street bastards are counting on us not paying attention.
Knowledge is power
and until we understand the breadth
of greed and selfishness coming from the top,
we don’t stand a chance of stopping this.
For those more visually-inclined,
here’s a video of Matt Taibbi summarizing his article: Obama’s Big Sellout.
I absolutely recommend Mr. Taibbi’s work.
He’s smart and funny and cuts to the quick with his assesments.
He makes Rolling Stone absolutely relevant in this era.
I’m so glad Wildebeest has a subscription.
Big heart, not so big brain
When is being nice too nice?
Stupid?
Or even dangerous?
Last night I walked out of a store to the parking lot.
An old, loud truck passed me.
As I reached to open my car door
I heard "Excuse me, ma’am."
It was the guy in the truck.
He had a story about being stranded
and needing gas money.
I told him I didn’t have my wallet and only had a credit card
but would look in my car for change.
He then asked me to go to a gas station where he’d clean my windows
in exchange for some gas.
I hesitated and told him I needed to check in my car.
I found four quarters, accidentally dropped one between the seats,
and took three out to the man.
It wasn’t until I handed him the money that I looked at him.
He looked a little volatile.
A bit scary.
But I see volatile and scary every week at the soup kitchen.
He thanked me and I walked back to my car.
A woman in an SUV was idling there, watching.
She said, "I was just making sure you were okay."
I thanked her and got in my car.
And then it all hit me:
I hadn’t thought twice about approaching that man’s truck.
Hadn’t thought twice about standing next to his door and open window.
Hadn’t thought about the big dog on the seat next to him.
I’m 5’10".
I regularly "bounce" people from the spaghetti dinner.
I’m used to people on the edge.
But none of that matters.
Last night I wasn’t paying attention to the situation.
And worse, I actually contemplated going to a gas station.
Whoa.
I need to maintain a sense of "me" in those interactions.
Giving is good until it’s stupid.
Facing the facts
Today’s forecast was a high of 10 degrees.
This afternoon I was stir crazy
so bundled up and went outside to shovel.
I shoveled for just over an hour.
It felt good to get air and exercise.
I was very grateful for my mask.
But then I looked in the mirror
and noticed my cheeks are red.
A different kind of red.
Oh no!
Frostnip?
Frostbite?
I did a Google images search.
Ewww.
And whew.
I absolutely do not have frostbite.
Trust me on this one.
Really? It isn’t that cold?
Today is cold as a witch’s tit.
At least, I thought it was.
Until I found this:
CAMBRIDGE, Mass. — A new study, conducted by researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, has found the heat capacity of witches’ tits to be significantly higher than previously believed.
"For years, the public has assumed that the breasts of witches maintain temperatures at or around the freezing point of water," said team leader Phillip McCracken in a telephone interview. "Through a series of revolutionary experiments, we have been able to determine that they actually achieve an average temperature of 72 degrees Fahrenheit."
The researchers do not currently understand why witches’ tits — while certainly warmer than expected — are nearly 27 degrees cooler than the tits of normal humans.
"Unfortunately, theory behind the thermodynamics of thaumaturgic mammaries is sadly under-investigated," added McCracken.
Magdalena Chancerly, the president of the National Organization of Wiccans in Salem, received the news of the scientists’ findings with enthusiasm. "You can only hear ‘cold as a witch’s tit’ so many times before becoming offended. I, for one, am glad to have my breasts associated with the comfortable climate of spring instead of the chill of winter."
Michael Genrich is a Boston-based writer and compu-chimp. He accepts full responsibility for The Daily Instigator.
The book that shall (not) remain nameless
I stink at making up titles.
But with FRAMED, I thought I’d finally done it:
created the perfect title
right from the start!
It’s been FRAMED through
every single draft
and revision.
I was so proud of my multi-layered title.
But now it’s been pointed out that
FRAMED is too subtle for a middle-grade novel.
Sadly, I believe that’s true.
So now I need something else,
perhaps FRAMED plus subtitle.
Or maybe something completely different.
Have I mentioned I stink at titles?
Same as it ever was
Quick, who said this:
"So no – I do not make this decision lightly. I make this decision because I am convinced that our security is at stake in Afghanistan and Pakistan. This is the epicenter of the violent extremism practiced by al Qaeda. It is from here that we were attacked on 9/11, and it is from here that new attacks are being plotted as I speak. This is no idle danger; no hypothetical threat. In the last few months alone, we have apprehended extremists within our borders who were sent here from the border region of Afghanistan and Pakistan to commit new acts of terror. This danger will only grow if the region slides backwards, and al Qaeda can operate with impunity. We must keep the pressure on al Qaeda, and to do that, we must increase the stability and capacity of our partners in the region."
You’d be excused if you thought those words came from George W. Bush.
But you’d also be wrong because
those fearmongering words came from Obama’s speech last night.
Obama ended with this Bush-esque tangle of mixed metaphor and jingoism:
"America – we are passing through a time of great trial. And the message that we send in the midst of these storms must be clear: that our cause is just, our resolve unwavering. We will go forward with the confidence that right makes might, and with the commitment to forge an America that is safer, a world that is more secure, and a future that represents not the deepest of fears but the highest of hopes. Thank you, God Bless you, God Bless our troops, and may God Bless the United States of America."
Then Obama went back to the White House to pack his bags
for his trip to Oslo where he’ll pick up his Nobel Peace Prize.
That’s what she said
said, "Carol Lynch Williams has created some kind of miracle in the THE CHOSEN ONE" and she was right. I finished reading it yesterday and could not stop thinking about it. High stakes and lovely writing.
said, "A beginning is filled with so much hope." Jeannine was referring to the blank page at the beginning of a project and I realized that that hope is what keeps me in the writing game. Each time I start a new book, I know the sky’s the limit on what I can accomplish.
Zippy’s mother once said "We’re talking about rulers and we end up talking about blue-green algae. Isn’t that strange?" I dug that 12/23/91 gem out of my old quote book because this past week I spent the day with my in-laws and was reminded how odd yet fun it is being a part of that family. (Although sometimes the odd outweighs the fun).
Anne Lamott said, "Hey, who fucking cares?" when she was in the bathtub, feeling down on herself as she stared at her post-pregnancy thighs. I think Anne’s wisdom applies to an awful lot of stuff in my 47-year-old life. Feel free to remind me of this sentiment when I fall into a shame spiral.
Compare and contrast
Yesterday I didn’t do a bit of writing.
I took the day off.
Instead, I aired out mattresses,
sprayed mini-blinds,
washed windows,
washed and rehung curtains,
and cleaned two bathrooms.
Today I worked on revisions
for about four hours.
I’m trying to decide which day’s work
gives me a greater sense of satisfaction.
My manuscript is almost ready to go.
On the other hand, those windows were really dirty.
Cutting and Pasting
Yesterday I had big plans for my revision work
and except for using 12-pt font and choosing the counter over the hair-covered floor,
I stuck to my plan.
Here is my original ending in all its glory.
And here, after hours of agonizing and brain-sweating,
is the cut and paste version of my revised ending.
I don’t think I could’ve slogged through all that without
a huge visual aid.
Word processors are grand
but nothing beats paper and scissors.
Not even rock
(sorry, couldn’t resist).
Seeing the big picture
I’m reworking my ending.
I’ve realized it reads like GROUNDHOG DAY.
Similar things happen over and over.
Diluting the action.
But I’ve got so many characters and so many plot lines
I’m not sure how to figure it all out.
It’s a bit intimidating.
I’d like a hovercraft that allows me a bird’s eye view
of everything that happens in those twenty pages.
But I don’t have such a thing so I’m going to settle for
printing out those pages
in larger font
and spreading them out on my floor.
Note to self: vacuum up dog/cat hair, first.
Do you know me? Or me?
I just got home and found an email in my inbox from Muffin & John.
I thought to myself, "Do I know a Muffin & John?"
I opened the email and found this photo.
I’ve never seen this kid in my life.
And I’ve decided I don’t know Muffin & John.
You might be thinking to yourself
"What’s the big deal? Stray email, is all."
Oh, yeah?
Stray email doesn’t explain last week’s text message to my phone
with an attached photo of a baby and the caption: My new nephew.
Is it time for me to start freaking out?
Buddies
I’m working hard on revisions.
Rewriting the ending.
I know some of you are working hard today, also.
My writer buddies.
We’re all in this together.
Warm Birthday Wishes for Two Friends
I just went into my backyard with a camera hoping to capture a colorful birthday shot
for Melodye ( ) and Laura ( ).
There’s not much color out there.
Then I found this pincushion flower (scabiosa)
that a couple weeks ago was buried beneath about three feet of snow.
I realized this little flower-that-could perfectly symbolized two of the strongest and most vibrant women I know.
Melodye and Laura, here are my wishes for a happy day
and a coming year full of love and laughter. . . . .
Gnarly Issues
Not sure if
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and noticed
but today while they were busy revising,
I snuck away.
Not because I wanted to avoid my revisions
but because I was in a tangled situation
and had gone as far as I could go.
I needed word from afar.
So I went outside and tackled my garden-run-amok.
Tore out some stuff that needed to go.
Two and one-half hours later when I went inside,
there was a shift.
I’d received word.
And now my tangle is one step closer to resolution.
All hail the Implements of Destruction!
Both literary and garden-ary.
Sundown on today’s revisions
But tomorrow I’ll be back for more.
Jon Skewers Glenn
This is brilliant.
Glenn Beck hoisted by his own petard.
Watch it and laugh
(because laughter’s all we got right now).
And I thought I was bad at titles
AGNES by Tony Cochran
Keep trying, Agnes.
I’m right there with you.
Tracy Abell 