This is Zippy’s indoor weather station. As you can see, it’s sunny and 65 degrees outside. Granted, the outdoor thermometer is in direct sunlight right now so it’s really only 65 degrees against the bricks on the south side of the house. But still. Sixty-five degrees in January!
I’m going out for a run around the neighborhood and am looking forward to cruising past the snow piles lingering from last weekend’s storm.
Gotta love Colorado and its split-weather-personality.
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If you happen upon this, writer-friend Linda Salzman, you might be happy to know that yesterday I finally, finally wrote the final scenes of the YA I’ve been wrestling with since the beginning of time. Are they perfectly written scenes? Hells no. Are they fleshed-out scenes? Absolutely not. Are they even close to being what they’d need to be in a final draft? HAHAHAHAHA.
In which Linda is the pug offering encouragement (“Do it!”) to the tortoise-slow Tracy.
The scenes I wrote yesterday are, at this point, a collection of placeholder words. A roadmap for the next draft (should I ever have the inclination to wade into the manuscript that right now feels like a horrible, torturous place to spend time). I learned about the value of using placeholder words from writer-friend Laurie Schneider, and I must say it’s one of the most liberating tools in my writing kit. The pressure is off when I’m creating placeholder words; all that’s required of me is to literally hold the place in the manuscript with clues for my authorial intent. The details come later.
So after writing those scenes, I printed out a hard copy and wrote out a few notes for myself before packing everything away in an accordion file. At the soonest, I’ll read that manuscript again in a month. But I have a feeling it’ll take longer than that for me to muster enthusiasm. After finishing, I’d gone back to read the opening chapter, thinking it would fire me up by reminding me the rest of the book is stronger than the ending. *insert hysterical laughter* Turns out, I’d arrived at the THIS BOOK SUCKS MORE THAN A HOOVER stage, and it’s gonna take some time for those feelings to fade.
The good news? I’m already reacquainting myself with another project. This one has huge potential and fills me with excitement. So take that, nasty voice! (Also, I was very grateful for the distraction of this “new” project when I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about Debbie Reynolds dying the day after losing her beloved daughter.)
There are sad and horrible things happening all over the planet, but I’m grateful for the fictional worlds I create in my mind. Sometimes the pretend is the only thing keeping me from being crushed by the real.
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Al Jolson once said, “A responsive audience is the best encouragement an actor can have.” Well, the same goes for writers. This morning I received an email from a writing friend that was not only incredibly generous, but also kind and encouraging. Her words have buoyed me all day, and I believe they’ll keep me afloat for quite some time.
I’m hoping I get the chance to do the same for someone else very soon.
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Yesterday and today have been frigid in these parts. The kind of cold that makes my teeth ache and my nostril hairs stick together as soon as I step outside. I’ve toted my space heater from room to room while waging an internal debate on the pros and cons of life in Florida or Arizona or Texas. (Okay, that’s melodramatic hyperbole.) However, the stuff about my nostril hairs is true.
But at this moment, I’m thankful for the promise of better things:
That’s a 29 degree swing in the right direction, and I’ll take it!
As that Little Orphan Annie with the freakishly blank eyes is fond of saying:
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya tomorrow ….
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Today I’m thankful for my mental and emotional flexibility.
Exhibit A is this photo of Cliff Swallows.
I was searching my photo files for a picture of my dog Zoey,
and opened an unlabeled file in hopes of finding one there.
Instead, I found this eighteen-month old photo of those delightful birds
and immediately abandoned my planned blog post about walking my dog.
I’m sure Zoey won’t mind.
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Thankful that sister Katie arrived to help archive our mother’s eighty zillion photos.
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Zebu and Wildebeest have been avid Spotify users for years, and now Zippy and I also have access to ALL THAT MUSIC.
It’s great to have a song pop in my head and then seconds later, I listen to it. It was years since I’d heard Roberta Flack’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face,” and then the other morning her voice gave me chills.
Spotify is also great for quickly checking out bands and musicians I read about in Rolling Stone, plus I discover new music while listening to other people’s playlists. Case in point, Earl St. Clair. Spotify = MORE MUSIC TO LOVE.
But the absolute greatest thing about Spotify is how it’s rejuvenated my hoop dancing. In the dark ages, I’d cobbled together a playlist of songs that were mostly good for dancing within my hoop. And while Aretha Franklin’s “Rock Steady” and Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground” are kick-ass hoop dancing songs, I was bored.
Dancer Doris Humphrey (1895-1958) in her hoop many years ago.
Enter Spotify.
I’m now the proverbal kid in the candy store. New songs every day to inspire my hoop dance. New favorites to sample again and again without fear of getting in a permanent rut.
So on this Thankful Thursday, I am grateful for:
my hoop,
all the incredible music that makes me want to dance,
and Spotify which makes it easy to do.
Wildebeest and Zebu a couple days ago, working the camera in their unique ways.
(In keeping with the spirit of Rio Olympics, Batman stuck it on the dismount!)
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If you look real closely, you’ll see a Goldfinch.
These days I’m grateful for the happy sunflowers that bring the hungry goldfinches.
With all the scary and ugly going on in the world, sometimes the little things can make a huge difference. Tonight I salute this green smoothie that I nearly forgot I’d made earlier today!
Lately I’ve been reminded how fortunate I am to have the sanctuary of a fictionalizing brain. When life gets tough and it feels as if the sun’s never coming back, it’s such a gift to be able to escape into my head. I can think about my characters, their challenges and triumphs, and the endless possibilties for telling their stories. I get to picture them in their homes and schools. I’m privy to their emotions and conversations, and experience awe each time a character reveals her true self to me. That magic never gets old.
I am thankful for the secret lives and stories I carry in my head throughout the mundane and most challenging moments of my life. My fictionalizing brain is my secret weapon.
Good thing no one can see inside my head, though. That stuff probably looks a little scary.
A perfect representation of me and my process. Including the axe.
My nine-year-old daffodils survived all this:
They are bowed, but not broken:
Hooray for resiliency! Hooray for prevailing! Hooray for Laurie Halse Anderson and her freakishly-tough bulbs!
Allow me to explain.
It’s February and I’m longing for spring when flowers bloom.
So I went to last year’s photos and found this clematis:
“Perfect,” I thought. “I’ll post it as Thankful Thursday: The Looking Forward Edition.”
But then I wanted to also include a quotation about the future,
so I searched for something eloquent to match my lovely flower.
And I came up with this:
“The future will be better tomorrow.” ~ Dan Quayle
A keeper, for sure, because not only am I longing for spring, I’m in desperate need of
laughter. But I won’t say anything more about that because as a wise man once said:
“Verbosity leads to unclear, inarticulate things.” ~ Dan Quayle
Sometimes when I’m in front of the mirror, slicking down my short-short hair in an attempt to tame The Bed Head, I’m reminded of Alfalfa from the Little Rascals. And I laugh. Then I break into warbly song to woo Darla . . .
Yesterday was tough for a variety of reasons, but I didn’t realize how much of a toll it was taking until late last night when I was practically giddy with happiness. What happened?
I received a follow-up phone call from Wildebeest who earlier in the day had expressed major angst and panic about a college assignment. He called back to explain how he’d managed to turn SS Catastrophe around and emerge victorious. As we talked, Wildebeest’s insights into his earlier behaviors and reactions, and my efforts to disengage from his panic, made me feel as if a heavy weight had been lifted. It was one of those Gold Star Parenting Moments.
Right after that call Zippy and I went to the high school to watch Zebu play his last home basketball game. He’s a senior this year and it’s been a disappointing season for him. He was seriously injured during a pre-season conditioning workout and ended up in the hospital for three days with a lacerated liver, and then couldn’t play for eight weeks. By the time he came back, his confidence was low and he never really hit his stride. But I’ve been mightily impressed with how he’s carried himself throughout those disappointments, and so was especially thrilled for him last night when he played his best game of the year. Talking with a relaxed and happy post-game Zebu felt like an absolute gift.
So that’s how my emotionally difficult day ended on a giddy note. As we got ready for bed, I repeatedly told Zippy how much better I felt; I was like an awestruck little kid taking out a shiny new toy to inspect over and over. I couldn’t stop staring at the Happy.
We all make our own happiness in this life, I can’t create it for my children and they aren’t responsible for mine, but it sure feels good when those positive feelings overlap and we’re all basking in the glow.
Yes, it’s true the country is being held hostage by temper-tantrum-throwing, batshit-crazy extremists. But it’s also true we still have birds. And for that I’ll be forever thankful.
Today I am thankful for easy access to wide open space where I can clear my mind and soothe my soul. I am thankful for the sixty minutes I had all to myself, with no one else around except some magpies and a coyote. I am thankful for the snow- and ice-crusted splendor (such as these images provided to morgueFile.com by people who had the foresight to bring along a camera):
I am thankful for the mystery of animal tracks in the snow:
I am thankful for the delight of seemingly random patterns in the snow (although I figured out the ones I saw were made by small clods of earth coming loose from the hillside and rolling down the slope to stop in dark blobs at the end of their dainty trails, an image I REALLY wished I could document with a camera):
I am thankful for delicate, lacy sheets of ice melting in the sun:
It’s been a tough week in a whole lot of ways, and so when I saw a cluster of mullein stalks standing ramrod straight in the snow, something about the weak shadows they cast made me teary; it was like some lonely roll-call. Lonely yet courageous. In any case, today I am thankful for Nature’s refuge that I found via my snowshoes.
Every single day I am grateful for the birds on this planet.
© Tracy Abell 2012
I am thankful in many Zebu-related ways, including . . .
Last Friday Zebu and team were on bus coming home from basketball game, everyone singing, when a freshman vomited all over and everyone moved as far away as possible, except Zebu who stayed and held a bag while the boy continued to get sick.
On Tuesday I received a call from the school trainer saying I needed
to take Zebu for x-rays because he’d hurt his elbow in practice but
after rushing to school and then to doctor’s, the x-rays showed no breaks!
Last night when I was in bed reading a book, Zebu came upstairs to ask if we could pick up his friend who’d been in a fight with his father and gotten kicked out, and so we drove around until we found him and then Zebu grabbed his heartbroken friend in a hug to let him know how much he is loved.
It’s been tough this past month but I am exceedingly grateful Zebu has
his friends and teachers. Being a teenager can be so very difficult
and I am thankful Zebu has support which allows him to navigate these years with kindness and dignity.
image from morguefile.com
I am thankful in many Zebu-related ways, including . . .
Last Friday Zebu and team were on bus coming home from basketball game,
everyone singing, when a freshman vomited all over and everyone moved as
far away as possible, except Zebu who stayed and held a bag while
the boy continued to get sick.
On Tuesday I received a call from the school trainer saying I needed
to take Zebu for x-rays because he'd hurt his elbow in practice but
after rushing to school and then to doctor's, the x-rays showed no breaks!
Last night when I was in bed reading a book, Zebu came upstairs to ask if we
could pick up his friend who'd been in a fight with his father and gotten kicked out,
and so we drove around until we found him and then Zebu grabbed his heartbroken friend
in a hug to let him know how much he is loved.
It's been tough this past month but I am exceedingly grateful Zebu has
his friends and teachers. Being a teenager can be so very difficult
and I am thankful Zebu has support which allows him to navigate these years
with kindness and dignity.
image from morguefile.com
© Tracy Abell 2011
© Tracy Abell 2011
© Tracy Abell 2011
I’m thankful that Wildebeest’s borrowed iPod (his is MIA) provided us with a different
get-ready-for-school soundtrack this morning : Michael Jackson (rather than the usual death metal or rap.)
I’m thankful I was able to make an appointment for Zebu to see the pediatric orthopedist this afternoon
to examine his knee that popped during track practice yesterday.
I’m thankful I own a Neti pot and can clear my nasal passages that are congested due to a lousy head cold.
I love my home but didn’t always love the ugly power lines
visible from our south-facing windows.
I considered them an obstruction of the open-space-aesthetic.
Well, I eventually adjusted my attitude with the realization that
without those unsightly, thick black cables, I wouldn’t see nearly as many birds.
Case in point: this Red-tailed Hawk that stopped by yesterday.
© Tracy Abell 2011
I’m always grateful for this kind and generous community.
Today, however, I am exceedingly grateful.
And I offer this dapper little Western Scrub-Jay as a token of my gratitude.
© 2010 Tracy Abell
Tracy Abell 