With Labor Day coming up, we asked party-planner and author Penny Warner to help us celebrate with style! Here's Penny--
by Penny Warner
I’ll use any excuse to host a party—even Labor Day. Not the pregnancy kind of labor—it’s too distracting hosting a party when some woman is screaming “Get this baby out of here now!” I mean the upcoming holiday that celebrates the fact that we can finally send the kids back to school!
But I’m also lazy and don’t want to work too hard on the hosting duties, in spite of the fact it’s “Labor” Day—the one day we actually celebrate “work.” (Who came up with that idea? Somebody’s boss?)
So I’m here to help you plan a no-fuss, “no-labor” Labor Day Party, because it may be your last opportunity to party until Halloween. Begin by choosing a theme for your party. Hosting a plain old Labor Day Party doesn’t sound too inviting. Your guests may think you’re having them over to help you paint the house or build an extra bedroom. That’s not a party. That’s a scam. And if you’re inviting me, I’m busy that day. So choose a theme, such as “Totally Awesome Tailgate Party,” “Texas Eat’Em BBQ,” or my favorite, “Your Friendly Neighborhood Block Party.”
First, set yourself up as CEO, then micro-manage the party by dividing the neighbors into groups (according to how well they get along), assign them a task, then give them “cool” official titles like, “The Invitation Committee,” “The Food Group,” “The Decorating Team,” “The Games and Activities Coalition,” and “The Clean-Up Crew.”
For invitations, enlarge a map of your neighborhood, make copies, and label each of the homes with clever names, such as “The Wonderful Warner Family,” “The House of Usher,” and “Tara,” and mark the party site with an “X.”
Set up the party in the middle of the court or street, someone’s big backyard, a nearby park, or the homeowner’s association clubhouse. Have everyone bring their folding tables and chairs, then decorate the tables with neighborhood maps and tie colorful balloons to the backs of the chairs. Have personalized T-shirts made for the party, imprinted with words like, “River Heights Rager 2009” or “Castle Rock Block Party.”
Next, ask everyone to bring a special dish covering the four food groups—noodle casseroles, rice casseroles, corn flake casseroles, and dessert casseroles. Unless your crowd prefer something healthy, like tofu casseroles.
To keep the crowd under control—and the teens from toilet papering your house—have a few games and activities ready. You might have a “House Hunt,” by taking obscure close-up shots of neighborhood houses, like their rusty drainpipes or gothic door knockers, and have the guests try to guess which house is which. Or have some old-fashioned fun from your grandparent’s day—a corn-husking contest (blindfolded), a scarecrow stuffing contest (make them Goth this year), a pie-eating contest (cherry is the messiest), pumpkin seed-spitting contest (the gals will love this one), and pumpkin-tossing-from-the-roof contests (which one makes the grossest splatter.)
To get everyone to help with clean up, write down tasks on small sheets of paper, such as, “Fold up the chairs,” “Throw away the paper products,” “Destroy evidence,” or “Call in crime scene cleaner.” Place the tasks in a bowl and mix them up. Have each guest draw a task and complete it before you release them from the party.
Better yet, make the kids clean up everything.
**
Penny Warner is the author of THE OFFICIAL NANCY DREW HANDBOOK, (Quirk, Agatha Award nominee), LADIES’ NIGHT: 75 Parties for Women, (Adams Media) and the upcoming mystery series featuring event planner Presley Parker, HOW TO HOST A KILLER PARTY (February, Obsidian/NAL/Penguin.) She can be reached at http://www.pennywarner.com
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Snowflakes in Summer
It might be 107degrees here, but in Molly Pink world it’s a few weeks before Christmas. In my mind I’m smelling the spicy scent of Swedish ginger cookies and the wonderful scent of pine wreaths as I work on the next book.
Supposedly Mel Torme wrote the classic Christmas Song on a sweltering summer day, so maybe I’m on the right track. Just as an aside, Mel went to my high school – though long before me. I have Molly crocheting snowflakes to decorate the bookstore’s window. It occurred to me that I’d probably write it better if I actually made a snowflake.
I’d seen the crocheted snowflakes at Christmas bazaars and in pattern books, but I’d never thought of making one before. Frankly, I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it. They looked so intricate, I imagined the pattern would be too complicated to follow. But for Molly I’d try anything, so I got out some thread and a tiny steel hook and found a pattern called Suzy Snowflake.
It was refreshing to do something with my hands besides fuss with the BlackBerry which refuses to go online as it is supposed to, or deal with my desktop computer that out of the blue started to ask questions about how to boot up.
It always takes me a little while to adjust to working with such a slender hook and such fine thread. The pattern had directions inside other directions, and I wasn’t sure how far I’d get. But after a few minutes of actually being able to follow the convoluted directions, I started to get excited. I knew I could do it. I was so good with organization that when I set it aside for a while, I put a stitch holder on my work, wrote down exactly where I was in the pattern and included what I was supposed to do next so there would be no chance of me losing my place. I put the whole thing, including the book with the directions and the hook, in a gallon size plastic bag. No way was I going to let the hook slide off somewhere and disappear.
My plastic bag maneuver worked pretty well except I have this bad habit of putting all my projects on the floor around the chair where I work on them and the bag got buried. But when I found it, it was nice to have everything together. There was a slight organizational error. The ball of thread was missing it’s label and I assumed it was #10, but now think it is really #3 which is probably a little heavy for a snowflake. Oh well, there’s always next time.
When I finished the snowflake, it was just a floppy thread piece. So just as I had Molly do, I starched it. It amounts to pouring some liquid starch in a plastic bag and soaking the snowflake. Then I laid it out on wax paper on top of cardboard. I pulled and shaped it and then stuck push pins in to hold it in place.
The hot weather was good for something. My snowflake dried in no time. Research can sure be fun. Here is how it turned out.
Supposedly Mel Torme wrote the classic Christmas Song on a sweltering summer day, so maybe I’m on the right track. Just as an aside, Mel went to my high school – though long before me. I have Molly crocheting snowflakes to decorate the bookstore’s window. It occurred to me that I’d probably write it better if I actually made a snowflake.
I’d seen the crocheted snowflakes at Christmas bazaars and in pattern books, but I’d never thought of making one before. Frankly, I thought I wouldn’t be able to do it. They looked so intricate, I imagined the pattern would be too complicated to follow. But for Molly I’d try anything, so I got out some thread and a tiny steel hook and found a pattern called Suzy Snowflake.
It was refreshing to do something with my hands besides fuss with the BlackBerry which refuses to go online as it is supposed to, or deal with my desktop computer that out of the blue started to ask questions about how to boot up.
It always takes me a little while to adjust to working with such a slender hook and such fine thread. The pattern had directions inside other directions, and I wasn’t sure how far I’d get. But after a few minutes of actually being able to follow the convoluted directions, I started to get excited. I knew I could do it. I was so good with organization that when I set it aside for a while, I put a stitch holder on my work, wrote down exactly where I was in the pattern and included what I was supposed to do next so there would be no chance of me losing my place. I put the whole thing, including the book with the directions and the hook, in a gallon size plastic bag. No way was I going to let the hook slide off somewhere and disappear.
My plastic bag maneuver worked pretty well except I have this bad habit of putting all my projects on the floor around the chair where I work on them and the bag got buried. But when I found it, it was nice to have everything together. There was a slight organizational error. The ball of thread was missing it’s label and I assumed it was #10, but now think it is really #3 which is probably a little heavy for a snowflake. Oh well, there’s always next time.
When I finished the snowflake, it was just a floppy thread piece. So just as I had Molly do, I starched it. It amounts to pouring some liquid starch in a plastic bag and soaking the snowflake. Then I laid it out on wax paper on top of cardboard. I pulled and shaped it and then stuck push pins in to hold it in place.
The hot weather was good for something. My snowflake dried in no time. Research can sure be fun. Here is how it turned out.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Friendship Bag Swap Contest
I’m taking part in a Friendship Bag Swap over at Michele Foster’s site, http://quiltinggallery.com. She has linked up nearly three hundred participants. The idea is to make one of these: http://quiltinggallery.com/quilters-fun/friendship-bag-2009/ and exchange. My recipient asked for brights a la Mary Englebreit. I think black and white polka dots when I think ME, so I rooted through my stash and came up with this assortment of prints. Bright enough?
The finished bag is tiny, barely big enough for a paperback, which means it goes together quickly. I wanted to do something special for the lining fabric. I had this black and white print which depicts quilters at work. Or mostly play. Fun stuff, but not quite special enough. Out came the fabric paints.
I got a little carried away. The first color blue I tried wasn’t quite right. Here’s a hint. It helps to have the pieced fabric in the same room when you're painting a matching lining. You won’t remember the colors otherwise. The aqua was better, but then by mixing gold and green, I was able to get this cool green. Acid green, really. Now I like all three and can't decide among them.
Which should I use? What would you chose? And now that I have linings enough for three bags, anyone want to enter a drawing for another? Leave a comment and I will enter you in the contest to win a copy of INKED UP and a friendship bag.
Family
Last weekend, I had the joy of attending the 90th birthday party of my aunt--my father’s sister.
This is a year of milestones. My very sweet mother-in-law also had a 90th birthday party earlier this year, which was also wonderful. But my aunt’s party was especially poignant because not only did my dad, husband and kids attend, but also my cousins, whom I hardly ever see, and their families. So did my brother and his kids--which was particularly great since my brother’s health doesn’t let him travel much. Then there were the friends and family members I hadn’t seen since I was a kid, plus those I’ve seen more over the years, when I visit Pittsburgh, where I grew up.
I always refer to my pets as family, and I did miss my dogs Lexie and Mystie while I was gone, but I had them in the care of a great pet-sitter--one my protagonist Kendra Ballantyne would be happy to be associated with. They clearly missed me and got back into demanding my attention every five minutes as soon as I returned.
But I was extremely grateful for having had this opportunity to see so many wonderful people in my family all together--dogs, plus fast-approaching September deadlines, notwithstanding!
What family celebrations have you had lately?
This is a year of milestones. My very sweet mother-in-law also had a 90th birthday party earlier this year, which was also wonderful. But my aunt’s party was especially poignant because not only did my dad, husband and kids attend, but also my cousins, whom I hardly ever see, and their families. So did my brother and his kids--which was particularly great since my brother’s health doesn’t let him travel much. Then there were the friends and family members I hadn’t seen since I was a kid, plus those I’ve seen more over the years, when I visit Pittsburgh, where I grew up.
I always refer to my pets as family, and I did miss my dogs Lexie and Mystie while I was gone, but I had them in the care of a great pet-sitter--one my protagonist Kendra Ballantyne would be happy to be associated with. They clearly missed me and got back into demanding my attention every five minutes as soon as I returned.
But I was extremely grateful for having had this opportunity to see so many wonderful people in my family all together--dogs, plus fast-approaching September deadlines, notwithstanding!
What family celebrations have you had lately?
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
POLITICS AND POKER
Politics and poker,
Politics and poker,
Make the average guy
A heavy smoker . . .
If politics seems more
Predictable
That’s because
Usually
You can stack
The deck!
- "Politics and Poker"
from the musical "Fiorello"
In these fraught times, when political arguments seem to take up all the air in any given room, how does the mystery author, one writing non-political novels, create believable characters who don’t favor one political party or opinion over another?
One way, of course, is to go ahead and give your characters political opinions. Let ’em duke it out on the page. It can be fun, and exciting – and when the book is published a year or more down the line, hopelessly dated. It’s even worse five, fifteen, twenty-five years from now when someone discovers you as an author and has to struggle through discussions on matters long settled or even forgotten.
In my own regard, with my own books, I ask myself, What Would Agatha Do?
Agatha Christie’s books appeared regularly for six decades. Yet it is rare to find even her earliest books referring to the political situation her characters lived in. Perhaps this is why they remain readable all these years later; they don’t jar by insisting you must know something about the Depression or World War II or the Cold War in order to understand them. Her characters are far too wrapped up in their own problems to comment on the politics of the time.
Go, I say to myself, and do likewise.
I played a solo game of golf last week on my usual par-three, nine-hole course and to my amazement, scored a four on one hole. That’s the best I’ve done to date. I scored a couple of sixes on two other holes and (sadly) much, much higher on the other holes. But a four – that’s a mere bogie, a perfectly respectable score for a beginner!
And then on Monday four of us went on a picnic and played croquet on a professional-size course and I finished dead last. Ah, well.
Politics and poker,
Make the average guy
A heavy smoker . . .
If politics seems more
Predictable
That’s because
Usually
You can stack
The deck!
- "Politics and Poker"
from the musical "Fiorello"
In these fraught times, when political arguments seem to take up all the air in any given room, how does the mystery author, one writing non-political novels, create believable characters who don’t favor one political party or opinion over another?
One way, of course, is to go ahead and give your characters political opinions. Let ’em duke it out on the page. It can be fun, and exciting – and when the book is published a year or more down the line, hopelessly dated. It’s even worse five, fifteen, twenty-five years from now when someone discovers you as an author and has to struggle through discussions on matters long settled or even forgotten.
In my own regard, with my own books, I ask myself, What Would Agatha Do?
Agatha Christie’s books appeared regularly for six decades. Yet it is rare to find even her earliest books referring to the political situation her characters lived in. Perhaps this is why they remain readable all these years later; they don’t jar by insisting you must know something about the Depression or World War II or the Cold War in order to understand them. Her characters are far too wrapped up in their own problems to comment on the politics of the time.
Go, I say to myself, and do likewise.
I played a solo game of golf last week on my usual par-three, nine-hole course and to my amazement, scored a four on one hole. That’s the best I’ve done to date. I scored a couple of sixes on two other holes and (sadly) much, much higher on the other holes. But a four – that’s a mere bogie, a perfectly respectable score for a beginner!
And then on Monday four of us went on a picnic and played croquet on a professional-size course and I finished dead last. Ah, well.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
LA (rhymes with Valet)
I'm just back from a short (i.e., intense!) road trip with Juliet Blackwell, Sophie Littlefield, and Ann Parker. We drove from the Bay Area to Burbank, then on to San Diego, then back up to Thousand Oaks, Westwood, and Pasadena.
Here's what we saw most of the time:
One evening I went to dinner with an old friend who owns and operates an art gallery in Malibu. When we arrived at the busy restaurant, I mentioned how difficult it was going to be to park. But what did I know? Before I finished the sentence, my friend had handed her keys to a valet. I looked around. Valets were everywhere, at least 6 of them moving cars around for the three or four restaurants on the block. I also learned about the prevailing custom of hiring valets for private parties, even small ones. "Anyone who's anyone," as they say.
Where have I been? Guests arriving at my Castro Valley home have to fend for themselves. Sorry, friends! I'll see what I can do for the next gathering!
During the whole trip we were treated to most welcoming booksellers and readers, old friends and new.
The sweets on the tray are compliments of a local cafe a few yards from Mysteries to Die For in Thousand Oaks.
Who doesn't love Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego? Our only problem was not having enough time to shop there.
We had a great time at The Mystery Bookstore where I picked up a wonderful body outline pen holder. Strange, huh?
Sadly, I have no photographic evidence that we were at Book 'Em in South Pasedena on Sunday, but we do have great memories of the afternoon!
One more thing for my scrapbook: me and Dean Martin (well, his booth anyway) at a diner en route.
I'll bet I'm not the only one with memories of great road trip ...
Here's what we saw most of the time:
One evening I went to dinner with an old friend who owns and operates an art gallery in Malibu. When we arrived at the busy restaurant, I mentioned how difficult it was going to be to park. But what did I know? Before I finished the sentence, my friend had handed her keys to a valet. I looked around. Valets were everywhere, at least 6 of them moving cars around for the three or four restaurants on the block. I also learned about the prevailing custom of hiring valets for private parties, even small ones. "Anyone who's anyone," as they say.
Where have I been? Guests arriving at my Castro Valley home have to fend for themselves. Sorry, friends! I'll see what I can do for the next gathering!
During the whole trip we were treated to most welcoming booksellers and readers, old friends and new.
The sweets on the tray are compliments of a local cafe a few yards from Mysteries to Die For in Thousand Oaks.
Who doesn't love Mysterious Galaxy in San Diego? Our only problem was not having enough time to shop there.
We had a great time at The Mystery Bookstore where I picked up a wonderful body outline pen holder. Strange, huh?
Sadly, I have no photographic evidence that we were at Book 'Em in South Pasedena on Sunday, but we do have great memories of the afternoon!
One more thing for my scrapbook: me and Dean Martin (well, his booth anyway) at a diner en route.
I'll bet I'm not the only one with memories of great road trip ...
Sunday, August 23, 2009
DIY Practically Anything!
Sarah Sarniak is the Queen of DIY. You can see all her amazing advice at www.queenofdiy.com Here she kicks off our week with some thoughts on tackling that DIY project--
DIY projects can be intimidating to get started on. I find that there are a lot of people out there that really WANT to learn to do things for themselves, but just don't know where to start. Perhaps this is you, or you've been there at some point.
When I set out on a new project that I'm not sure exactly how to do, I don't see it as intimidating; but instead I like to look at it as a new learning experience. I generally always go to the same place to start learning about my new project - the internet. In any search engine simply type in a keyword like "refinishing furniture for beginners" and you will find an enormous amount of information to get started. From there you can find tutorials, books, experts, forums, and so much more to kick off your new hobby.
If you're more of a book person, the internet can still be a great starting point. By searching for your hobby on Amazon you can find reviews and ratings for books on your hobby. Instead of blindly trying out new books, you can get a head start by choosing the books that have worked well for the majority of people in the past.
Another great resource is craft blogs such as this one, Killer Hobbies. You can find lots of unique crafts and inspiring projects to get your creative juices flowing. Feel free to checkout my own DIY blog, Queen of DIY for new step by step projects with pictures posted on a regular basis. I happily accept requests to help you out with something more specific as well.
Once you've done your research, you can gather together a basic supplies list and try out some smaller projects before leaping into the larger ones.
DIY-ing doesn't have to be intimidating, it can be an ADVENTURE!
To me, DIY is not just an acronym, or a thing you do, but a lifestyle. When I need a piece of furniture reupholstered or my yard re-landscaped I don't seek out a professional first. Instead, I seek out to learn something new.
If you make mistakes along the way, that's okay because it's all a learning process to experience and have fun with. As the old saying goes, "When you run so fast to get somewhere, you miss half the fun of getting there."
So set out on a new adventure and take things into your own hands, living a DIY lifestyle!
Happy DIY-ing!
Sarah
DIY projects can be intimidating to get started on. I find that there are a lot of people out there that really WANT to learn to do things for themselves, but just don't know where to start. Perhaps this is you, or you've been there at some point.
When I set out on a new project that I'm not sure exactly how to do, I don't see it as intimidating; but instead I like to look at it as a new learning experience. I generally always go to the same place to start learning about my new project - the internet. In any search engine simply type in a keyword like "refinishing furniture for beginners" and you will find an enormous amount of information to get started. From there you can find tutorials, books, experts, forums, and so much more to kick off your new hobby.
If you're more of a book person, the internet can still be a great starting point. By searching for your hobby on Amazon you can find reviews and ratings for books on your hobby. Instead of blindly trying out new books, you can get a head start by choosing the books that have worked well for the majority of people in the past.
Another great resource is craft blogs such as this one, Killer Hobbies. You can find lots of unique crafts and inspiring projects to get your creative juices flowing. Feel free to checkout my own DIY blog, Queen of DIY for new step by step projects with pictures posted on a regular basis. I happily accept requests to help you out with something more specific as well.
Once you've done your research, you can gather together a basic supplies list and try out some smaller projects before leaping into the larger ones.
DIY-ing doesn't have to be intimidating, it can be an ADVENTURE!
To me, DIY is not just an acronym, or a thing you do, but a lifestyle. When I need a piece of furniture reupholstered or my yard re-landscaped I don't seek out a professional first. Instead, I seek out to learn something new.
If you make mistakes along the way, that's okay because it's all a learning process to experience and have fun with. As the old saying goes, "When you run so fast to get somewhere, you miss half the fun of getting there."
So set out on a new adventure and take things into your own hands, living a DIY lifestyle!
Happy DIY-ing!
Sarah
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Movin on Up
It’s been electronic upgrade time for me. First I got a new laptop. My old one had gotten so slow, I ‘d turn it on and go do something for a while and hope it had booted up when I came back.
The new one has a bigger screen and a camera so I can watch myself as I write. Yikes, I don’t really look that old, do I? It has the new version of Windows. So far so good with that. The amazing part was that after the rebates, the new computer costs less than half the price of the old one.
Now I just have to move over all the files from my old laptop. I alreadt put in WordPerfect and Word. Though Word caused me to have a minor meltdown. I ended up with the 2007 version which I keep hearing is different, but not better. Those were my sentiments, too. I’m much happier now that I have Word 2003 as well – as happy as I can be with Word after my I hate Word rant a few weeks ago.
And I finally got a BlackBerry. It’s a hand-me-down from my son and still has all of his phone numbers and his calendar. So far I’ve accidentally called at least one of his friends by pushing something at the wrong time. I’m also getting prompts about a Dodger game, his dentist appointment, his trip to Las Vegas. Eventually I’ll get his stuff out and my stuff in.
I have watched my husband and son endlessly twirling the roller ball as they scroll through their emails when we’re out somewhere. I swear I won’t be doing that. I’d rather be where I am when I’m there. But after spending too much time waiting for them to finish just one more email before we leave a restaurant, I did have to laugh when I was typing an email as I followed my son around the nursery department of Lowe’s and he got annoyed because I wasn’t paying attention to some cactus he wanted to show me.
It makes no sense. It’s much easier just to call somebody, but I found myself sending emails instead. There is something about typing on the tiny keyboard that is so appealing. And I kept joking about all the abbreviations like lol and r for are, but it is so much easier and why bother with capital letters or punctuation. I will not keep the BlackBerry next to my bed like some people I know who check emails in the middle of the night. It will only be my BlackBerry, not my CrackBerry.
Before my son gave it to me, he added a new ring. Well, ring isn’t the right word. Instead of ringing, it plays some song and my son’s voice says Betty Hechtman’s phone is ringing. I’ve been know to miss a few phone calls. Hard to miss that. Also hard to pretend it’s not my phone when it rings in the middle of someplace where you’re supposed to have turned off your cell phone. Another thing I need to learn - how to turn the phone function off.
I’m in the midst of writing the fifth crochet mystery. It’s going to be a holiday book coming out next November, so for now I’m calling it Hooky Holidays. I think Molly is going to be getting a BlackBerry. Why not blend real life and fiction?
The new one has a bigger screen and a camera so I can watch myself as I write. Yikes, I don’t really look that old, do I? It has the new version of Windows. So far so good with that. The amazing part was that after the rebates, the new computer costs less than half the price of the old one.
Now I just have to move over all the files from my old laptop. I alreadt put in WordPerfect and Word. Though Word caused me to have a minor meltdown. I ended up with the 2007 version which I keep hearing is different, but not better. Those were my sentiments, too. I’m much happier now that I have Word 2003 as well – as happy as I can be with Word after my I hate Word rant a few weeks ago.
And I finally got a BlackBerry. It’s a hand-me-down from my son and still has all of his phone numbers and his calendar. So far I’ve accidentally called at least one of his friends by pushing something at the wrong time. I’m also getting prompts about a Dodger game, his dentist appointment, his trip to Las Vegas. Eventually I’ll get his stuff out and my stuff in.
I have watched my husband and son endlessly twirling the roller ball as they scroll through their emails when we’re out somewhere. I swear I won’t be doing that. I’d rather be where I am when I’m there. But after spending too much time waiting for them to finish just one more email before we leave a restaurant, I did have to laugh when I was typing an email as I followed my son around the nursery department of Lowe’s and he got annoyed because I wasn’t paying attention to some cactus he wanted to show me.
It makes no sense. It’s much easier just to call somebody, but I found myself sending emails instead. There is something about typing on the tiny keyboard that is so appealing. And I kept joking about all the abbreviations like lol and r for are, but it is so much easier and why bother with capital letters or punctuation. I will not keep the BlackBerry next to my bed like some people I know who check emails in the middle of the night. It will only be my BlackBerry, not my CrackBerry.
Before my son gave it to me, he added a new ring. Well, ring isn’t the right word. Instead of ringing, it plays some song and my son’s voice says Betty Hechtman’s phone is ringing. I’ve been know to miss a few phone calls. Hard to miss that. Also hard to pretend it’s not my phone when it rings in the middle of someplace where you’re supposed to have turned off your cell phone. Another thing I need to learn - how to turn the phone function off.
I’m in the midst of writing the fifth crochet mystery. It’s going to be a holiday book coming out next November, so for now I’m calling it Hooky Holidays. I think Molly is going to be getting a BlackBerry. Why not blend real life and fiction?
Friday, August 21, 2009
Project Runway
Project Runway is back, now on Lifetime instead of Bravo, and I spent way too much time last night watching it. 3 hours! I did wait out the first hour and then watch it played back on the DVR, which meant I kept it down to about two hours, and better yet, never had to watch a commercial. Good thing, too, because the few I caught seemed to be about feminine hygiene products and movies that feature women in jeopardy, women in peril, and women with smelly body parts. Poor Lifetime women. They've got it rough.
The show now takes place in L.A. So it's always sunny. We know it's not always nice in Southern California, what with the epic rains, earthquakes and fires, but it is far more sunny than New York. And sun changes everything.
New Yorkers have a reputation for being hard-boiled, cynical, even a little rude. Okay, a lot rude. I've found that not to be true. And folks in L.A., I'm sure, can curse out the parking valet and hair stylists when needed. But you have to be tough to live in New York. City life is never easy and then to add rain, snow, hail and summer humidity on top of irate cabbies, crowded sidewalks and tourists, is adding insult to injury.
Things are a little easier when it's sunny out. When the temperatures are moderate and don't interfere with daily living much. When you can pump gas without freezing your toes off. Or go for a walk to relieve some of the stress without a bumbershoot and several layers of rain gear. Or go somewhere and watch a surfer catch a wave and ride it to shore.
Heidi told the contestants last night, "It's a beautiful night. Too bad you won't get to enjoy it." Maybe they won't be able to partake in L.A.'s lovely weather. Perhaps they'll be cooped up inside.
But I bet they can see a palm tree from there. It's hard not to relax with a palm tree swaying in front of you.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Doggone Doggy Flu
With all the talk about the swine flu possible pandemic among humans these days, we’re all--unfortunately--primed to hear about communicable people diseases. This week, there’s also been a lot in the news about a strain of canine influenza that appears to be picking up speed and virulence. It’s the dog flu, also known as H3N8.
Different kinds of dog flu seem to have been around for a long time, maybe as long as people flu. This one has been spreading, and is starting to kill some of the dogs who catch it.
Obvious places where the dog flu can be spread include shelters and kennels, dog parks and obedience classes. Apparently, people can’t catch it, but they can be carriers. If someone hugs a dog who has flu, then hugs one who doesn’t, the well one can become sick.
One positive thing is that a vaccine exists. That doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone should take their dogs to their vets and get an immediate shot, but it wouldn’t hurt to check with your vet to determine whether the area where you live has seen any infection. An article I read said that a dog has died in Fairfax, Virginia, and cases have been reported in Colorado, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.
Okay, have I worried you? I’m worried--both about the people stuff and now about the doggie stuff. But although I’ll wash my hands even more--and hope all those antibacterial cleaners continue to work--I probably won’t do much to change my life.
Give up hugging dogs? Never!
But I have to say that it’s easier to write about the fun things that happen to pets--even in murder mysteries like my Kendra Ballantyne, Pet-Sitter series--than to think about dark reality... like flu. At least the werewolves in my Silhouette Nocturne series about Alpha Force are not susceptible.
How about you--does any kind of flu worry you?
Different kinds of dog flu seem to have been around for a long time, maybe as long as people flu. This one has been spreading, and is starting to kill some of the dogs who catch it.
Obvious places where the dog flu can be spread include shelters and kennels, dog parks and obedience classes. Apparently, people can’t catch it, but they can be carriers. If someone hugs a dog who has flu, then hugs one who doesn’t, the well one can become sick.
One positive thing is that a vaccine exists. That doesn’t necessarily mean that everyone should take their dogs to their vets and get an immediate shot, but it wouldn’t hurt to check with your vet to determine whether the area where you live has seen any infection. An article I read said that a dog has died in Fairfax, Virginia, and cases have been reported in Colorado, New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania.
Okay, have I worried you? I’m worried--both about the people stuff and now about the doggie stuff. But although I’ll wash my hands even more--and hope all those antibacterial cleaners continue to work--I probably won’t do much to change my life.
Give up hugging dogs? Never!
But I have to say that it’s easier to write about the fun things that happen to pets--even in murder mysteries like my Kendra Ballantyne, Pet-Sitter series--than to think about dark reality... like flu. At least the werewolves in my Silhouette Nocturne series about Alpha Force are not susceptible.
How about you--does any kind of flu worry you?
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
WRITERS GROUPS
My writers group meets here this evening. I don’t know if I’ve written much about writers groups, or my writers group in particular before, so I hope I’m not becoming boringly repetitive if I say I highly recommend them – if they’re good. They can be bad. A good writers group has one goal: to get every member published. Okay, another goal: to improve every members’ writing. No cliques, no cruel comments, no games. Say something nice before offering a critical comment: "Your story has a nice brisk pace, but I think you need to foreshadow this abrupt change of attitude in your main character," for example. My group meets weekly and one or two members read. Other groups meet monthly and every members reads. Some groups hand out copies of the readings at the meeting, some mail them out in advance, some don’t hand out copies. Our group meets in members’ homes; other groups meet at a central place. The motto of every writers group should be: Whatever works. The joy of sharing with fellow writers cannot be overstated, and the value of a good writers group cannot be exaggerated.
Well, a bad writer probably could do both, but in a writers group it would be critiqued.
Well, a bad writer probably could do both, but in a writers group it would be critiqued.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
An artist's journey
Today's guest is artist/miniaturist ALICE ZINN, whom I met through our wonderful group, The Camp. What a journey! Thanks for sharing, Alice!
Alice's table at a Miniatures Show
from Alice Zinn:
This morning I was reading a review of the new movie "Julie & Julia" and it mentioned Julia Child's finding her "calling" to be a French chef rather late in life, in her thirties. It reminded me of my childhood, when an adult would ask the 5 or 6 or 11 year old me, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I always answered with the same, rather annoyed response, "What do you mean, I AM an artist!"
Apparently, I was born knowing what I wanted to "be". There was no question, I more simply WAS an artist. What direction that would take was the question. Not MY question, but it should have been that of my parents. Unfortunately, they were of the ilk that sort of lets a child do their own thing. I pretty much brought myself up. My Dad, when I wanted to go to college asked "Why, you just will waste all that money getting an MRS (Mrs.) degree!" (Didn't he, at least, think that would be a better way to find a husband with an education that would enable him to have employment that would support me well?)
My Mother, a pretty good hobbyist/artist, loved playing at drawing and clay with me when I was young. But she never did anything to encourage getting me any further lessons in the arts toward the idea of my having a career. She didn't even suggest my going to school to be an art teacher.
In those days women, especially pretty women, which I was, were assumed to have a future as housewives. No one could know, or warn us, that a lot of my generation would have to work, and due to an ever soaring divorce rate, actually support ourselves.
I've always thought that the idea of families spending a fortune putting kids in all sorts of lessons and after school activities was ridiculous. As a huge tennis fan I hear of parents that put tennis rackets in their child's tiny 2 or 3 year old hands! How did they KNOW this kid would grow up to BE Andre Agassi or Serena Williams? The answer is, they didn't. The just lucked out with kids who had the "calling" and "God given gift" to do well in their "parent chosen" field. With luck, the kids also loved what they were good at.
Can you imagine how many more proteges we'd have in a lot of fields if children were exposed to them in order to find their callings when they are young? Not only artists, but scientists, sports figures, and more could or would benefit from being able to dabble as children and find, not only what they excel at, but also what they love to do! Maybe all those after school activities will lead to that.
I hope so. Especially for those in the arts.
Prototype museum case, about 3½ inches high, with a California Valley Quail inside
I didn't have those activities to learn from. But I did have books. My first grade teacher told us on the first day of class, when she opened that HUGE "Dick and Jane" book on an easel at the front of the classroom, "Once you learn to read, you can learn anything else by yourself".
Opening my matching little book on my desk, I entered a magic place, and I took those words to heart. After learning to read, I honestly do not remember learning anything else in school until I got to sixth grade! I was such a voracious reader that my Mother would sometimes have to take me to the library several times a week, as I'd got through my "7 books only" in a couple of days! I learned everything that school was about to teach me ahead of the class.
I not only read novels, but loved "How-to" books. "How to" make puppets, or doll clothes, or stuffed animals, how to paint or draw or sculpt. All my answers were there!
Making a living in any of the Arts is not an easy thing. My first foray into trying to do so was at 13, when I hated baby-sitting and built (with my Dad's help) a puppet theater, constructed a cast of marionettes and put on puppet shows at kids parties. It was a good supplement to a small allowance from my parents. For a little while, in high school, I designed and made outfits for local rock and roll bands, using a $40 used Singer sewing machine I'd bought with my marionette show profits. My next job, the summer after high school, was as a "dollcraft" counselor in a children's day camp. It paid at the end of summer, $300 for eight weeks work. I was beginning to see that the arts did not pay well!
I entered the workplace trying to find a way into department store window design. But they only wanted people would could show them a portfolio. I settled for a very uncreative job as an executive trainee. I was miserable. It lasted 50 weeks. By then I had gotten married and my husband was a graphic artist. He taught me how to do "paste ups and mechanicals", a term for putting together the elements of type and picture into a cohesive ad, mostly designed by someone else.
I got several jobs in that field and ended up in one where I did the designing. I finally was making good money with my art. Writing has always been another creative outlet for me, and in this job, I got to write copy as well. I eventually got to design the whole ad campaigns.
I stayed with that kind of work even after my first divorce. About four years later I remarried and my husband came along with two little girls. At 24, I believed it was best for them if I was a stay at home Mom, so I quit my job and began freelancing, creating a studio in my home, long before working from home before fashionable.
Alice (right) with friend Jill
It was the early 1970s. One of my dearest friends and I played tennis together. I'd met Jill in high school in an art class. We were bored with the commercial tennis gear and designed our own shirts to wear. We'd gotten so many compliments on the shirts, we went into business making them. My first real business, "Tees From Two", was born. That lasted several years, while I still did free lance work in graphics. After all, an in home design studio can be used for many purposes! So I basically had two part time design jobs.
Sample Tees!
In the late 1970s, I fell into miniatures! My second husband, Harold Zinn, who was a very athletic guy, broke his leg and wanted a project. I had him build me a dollhouse shaped shelf of my own design to display some little collectibles I had been acquiring since my youth. I had no idea that there was a miniatures hobby or industry.
By accident, I found out about a chapter of NAME that was forming locally and went, bringing a sampling of things I'd made for my dollhouse with me in an egg carton. One of the members of the club, Peggy Muloolly, had a miniature shop and asked if I would re-create some of my show-and-tell items for her shop! (Peggy's shop, Miniature Manor, on LI in NY is still in business!) My new business was born! That was March 6, 1977.
All of the artistic things in which I'd "dabbled" over the years had finally come together! I realized I couldn't have had any better training to be a professional miniaturist than the myriad things I'd created over the years in so many different areas of the creative arts. I finally had discovered what I kind of artist I wanted to be when I grew up! A miniaturist!
A job I hadn't even know existed!
When Harold and I divorced in 1980, I had to make a conscious decision as to whether or not to make designing and making miniatures a full time business and try to support myself with it. I went to adult ed and took a course at in Small Business administration. That helped a little, but not enough. So I turned back to my first teachers, books and read all I could about running a home based business.
If I'd had a different kind of parents, and better counseling, knowing what I know now, I'd have gone to California and tried to get a job in special effects for the movie industry. That sure would have been fun! And probably paid a lot better.
I won't kid you. It hasn't been easy. Supporting oneself with ones art is hard work, It is not always fun. There are aspects of the business I hate. I've gone without a lot of luxuries. It's not a part time job, or even the equivilant of two part time jobs. It encompasses every waking hour, in one way or another!
But I followed my calling, and thirty-two years later, my miniatures business is still going strong. Every day I am thankful for all that being a miniaturist has brought me, being my own boss, not owning an alarm clock, friends all over the globe, and loads of fascinating travel. Those are my rich rewards.
Now, with aging joints in my hands, and my eyes not what they used to be, I wish retirement, or even semi-retirement was an option. My own business didn't make enough to provide for my retirement.
My suggestion to you is, when someone asks your child what he or she wants to be when they grow up, listen to their answer. Ask them yourself from time to time over the years, you may get clues as to what areas of education to foster in them. That gift will make their lives a lot more fulfilled and easier than any toy you give them when they are small.
Now, at 61, if someone asked me what I'd want to be when I grew up, I'd finally have a new answer, "I'd like to grow up to be spoiled!"
Alice's table at a Miniatures Show
from Alice Zinn:
This morning I was reading a review of the new movie "Julie & Julia" and it mentioned Julia Child's finding her "calling" to be a French chef rather late in life, in her thirties. It reminded me of my childhood, when an adult would ask the 5 or 6 or 11 year old me, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" I always answered with the same, rather annoyed response, "What do you mean, I AM an artist!"
Apparently, I was born knowing what I wanted to "be". There was no question, I more simply WAS an artist. What direction that would take was the question. Not MY question, but it should have been that of my parents. Unfortunately, they were of the ilk that sort of lets a child do their own thing. I pretty much brought myself up. My Dad, when I wanted to go to college asked "Why, you just will waste all that money getting an MRS (Mrs.) degree!" (Didn't he, at least, think that would be a better way to find a husband with an education that would enable him to have employment that would support me well?)
My Mother, a pretty good hobbyist/artist, loved playing at drawing and clay with me when I was young. But she never did anything to encourage getting me any further lessons in the arts toward the idea of my having a career. She didn't even suggest my going to school to be an art teacher.
In those days women, especially pretty women, which I was, were assumed to have a future as housewives. No one could know, or warn us, that a lot of my generation would have to work, and due to an ever soaring divorce rate, actually support ourselves.
I've always thought that the idea of families spending a fortune putting kids in all sorts of lessons and after school activities was ridiculous. As a huge tennis fan I hear of parents that put tennis rackets in their child's tiny 2 or 3 year old hands! How did they KNOW this kid would grow up to BE Andre Agassi or Serena Williams? The answer is, they didn't. The just lucked out with kids who had the "calling" and "God given gift" to do well in their "parent chosen" field. With luck, the kids also loved what they were good at.
Can you imagine how many more proteges we'd have in a lot of fields if children were exposed to them in order to find their callings when they are young? Not only artists, but scientists, sports figures, and more could or would benefit from being able to dabble as children and find, not only what they excel at, but also what they love to do! Maybe all those after school activities will lead to that.
I hope so. Especially for those in the arts.
Prototype museum case, about 3½ inches high, with a California Valley Quail inside
I didn't have those activities to learn from. But I did have books. My first grade teacher told us on the first day of class, when she opened that HUGE "Dick and Jane" book on an easel at the front of the classroom, "Once you learn to read, you can learn anything else by yourself".
Opening my matching little book on my desk, I entered a magic place, and I took those words to heart. After learning to read, I honestly do not remember learning anything else in school until I got to sixth grade! I was such a voracious reader that my Mother would sometimes have to take me to the library several times a week, as I'd got through my "7 books only" in a couple of days! I learned everything that school was about to teach me ahead of the class.
I not only read novels, but loved "How-to" books. "How to" make puppets, or doll clothes, or stuffed animals, how to paint or draw or sculpt. All my answers were there!
Making a living in any of the Arts is not an easy thing. My first foray into trying to do so was at 13, when I hated baby-sitting and built (with my Dad's help) a puppet theater, constructed a cast of marionettes and put on puppet shows at kids parties. It was a good supplement to a small allowance from my parents. For a little while, in high school, I designed and made outfits for local rock and roll bands, using a $40 used Singer sewing machine I'd bought with my marionette show profits. My next job, the summer after high school, was as a "dollcraft" counselor in a children's day camp. It paid at the end of summer, $300 for eight weeks work. I was beginning to see that the arts did not pay well!
I entered the workplace trying to find a way into department store window design. But they only wanted people would could show them a portfolio. I settled for a very uncreative job as an executive trainee. I was miserable. It lasted 50 weeks. By then I had gotten married and my husband was a graphic artist. He taught me how to do "paste ups and mechanicals", a term for putting together the elements of type and picture into a cohesive ad, mostly designed by someone else.
I got several jobs in that field and ended up in one where I did the designing. I finally was making good money with my art. Writing has always been another creative outlet for me, and in this job, I got to write copy as well. I eventually got to design the whole ad campaigns.
I stayed with that kind of work even after my first divorce. About four years later I remarried and my husband came along with two little girls. At 24, I believed it was best for them if I was a stay at home Mom, so I quit my job and began freelancing, creating a studio in my home, long before working from home before fashionable.
Alice (right) with friend Jill
It was the early 1970s. One of my dearest friends and I played tennis together. I'd met Jill in high school in an art class. We were bored with the commercial tennis gear and designed our own shirts to wear. We'd gotten so many compliments on the shirts, we went into business making them. My first real business, "Tees From Two", was born. That lasted several years, while I still did free lance work in graphics. After all, an in home design studio can be used for many purposes! So I basically had two part time design jobs.
Sample Tees!
In the late 1970s, I fell into miniatures! My second husband, Harold Zinn, who was a very athletic guy, broke his leg and wanted a project. I had him build me a dollhouse shaped shelf of my own design to display some little collectibles I had been acquiring since my youth. I had no idea that there was a miniatures hobby or industry.
By accident, I found out about a chapter of NAME that was forming locally and went, bringing a sampling of things I'd made for my dollhouse with me in an egg carton. One of the members of the club, Peggy Muloolly, had a miniature shop and asked if I would re-create some of my show-and-tell items for her shop! (Peggy's shop, Miniature Manor, on LI in NY is still in business!) My new business was born! That was March 6, 1977.
All of the artistic things in which I'd "dabbled" over the years had finally come together! I realized I couldn't have had any better training to be a professional miniaturist than the myriad things I'd created over the years in so many different areas of the creative arts. I finally had discovered what I kind of artist I wanted to be when I grew up! A miniaturist!
A job I hadn't even know existed!
When Harold and I divorced in 1980, I had to make a conscious decision as to whether or not to make designing and making miniatures a full time business and try to support myself with it. I went to adult ed and took a course at in Small Business administration. That helped a little, but not enough. So I turned back to my first teachers, books and read all I could about running a home based business.
If I'd had a different kind of parents, and better counseling, knowing what I know now, I'd have gone to California and tried to get a job in special effects for the movie industry. That sure would have been fun! And probably paid a lot better.
I won't kid you. It hasn't been easy. Supporting oneself with ones art is hard work, It is not always fun. There are aspects of the business I hate. I've gone without a lot of luxuries. It's not a part time job, or even the equivilant of two part time jobs. It encompasses every waking hour, in one way or another!
But I followed my calling, and thirty-two years later, my miniatures business is still going strong. Every day I am thankful for all that being a miniaturist has brought me, being my own boss, not owning an alarm clock, friends all over the globe, and loads of fascinating travel. Those are my rich rewards.
Now, with aging joints in my hands, and my eyes not what they used to be, I wish retirement, or even semi-retirement was an option. My own business didn't make enough to provide for my retirement.
My suggestion to you is, when someone asks your child what he or she wants to be when they grow up, listen to their answer. Ask them yourself from time to time over the years, you may get clues as to what areas of education to foster in them. That gift will make their lives a lot more fulfilled and easier than any toy you give them when they are small.
Now, at 61, if someone asked me what I'd want to be when I grew up, I'd finally have a new answer, "I'd like to grow up to be spoiled!"
Sunday, August 16, 2009
A Beachy Keen Vacation
This was definitely NOT the year to spend a week down in Kiawah Island, SC. We had too much to do, too many scheduling conflicts, and I was too stressed out.
However, my son said, "Hey, it's a tradition. It's our last time together before I start school, and I promised my friends." The passion in his voice made my husband and me re-think. After all, what use is a family tradition if you drop it when it's inconvenient? Besides, if we drove down to SC, we could keep going and drive to my mother's memorial service in Stuart FL, then drop Michael off at college.
I'm so glad we came. At first I was so sad and lethargic. I had to force myself to walk the beach every day. But I found solace as I lost myself in books. I read:
1. South of Broad by Pat Conroy--Conroy went to the Citadel at the same time as my son's godfather, Maurice Fox. This book is billed as Conroy's love song to Charleston, and man, he nails it. He manages to capture all the city's social aspects, as well as some of the lyrical beauty of the area. Of course, the language is equisite. Conroy is a god. I'd love to find out what his writing process is--the density of his language leaves me stunned. I finish a line feeling totally inadequate as an author. So, I think I'll take a pen to this book and try to tease out some idea of how he does it.
2. Long Lost by Harlan Coben--An independent mystery bookseller introduced me to Myron Bolitar years ago. Since then, Coben has become a big name with his breakout novels. Here, he revisits Myron, and you can see how he brings what he's learned writing thrillers to his series.
3. The Long Quiche Goodbye by Avery Aames--This is an ARC (Advance Reading Copy) of a darling new cozy by a friend of mine. The characters are charming, and since it's about a cheese shop, I ate WAY too much cheese while reading it. If you love cozies, I promise you'll want a second and third helping of this new series.
4. Everything Matters! by Ron Currie, Jr. -- An independent bookseller (Nikki from Pudd'nhead Books in Webster Groves MO) suggested this. At first, I hesitated. I have mixed feelings about anything sci-fi. But I loved it. The central premise is summed up neatly here: "Everything ends, and Everything matters. Everything matters not in spite of the end of you and all that you love, but because of it." This was the right life message for me as I ponder my mother's passing.
5. Nightshade and Night Smoke by Nora Roberts--Books Three and Four of the thrilling class Night Tales series. These were left in the rental condo, and I'm glad. Nora Roberts is a genius. Reading two books back to back reminded me of the importance of self-discipline as a writer. I really need to outline a couple of her books. She moves the plot along so swiftly. And I need to study how she makes her characters so instantly sympathetic.
6. Her Royal Spyness by Rhys Bowen--I always intended to read this series, but it escaped me. I'm so glad I started with the first one, because I loved this. The Brit-speak brought back fond memories of our time in the UK.
7. The Fire Kimono by Laura Joh Rowland--The 13th in this outstanding series and I've read them all. I love the characters and the setting. This plot was her most complex and compelling to date.
Now I'm reading The Other Queen by Philippa Gregory. She's a genius for finding a new slant on a well-known historical figure. This one's about Mary, Queen of Scots. Wow, does she come alive on the page!
I'm halfway through, so I'll need to buy another book--or two or three--for the trip home. Oh, and I'm listening to Twilight on CDs, too.
It's been a great vacation, and I'm feeling much restored.
What makes a great vacation for you?
However, my son said, "Hey, it's a tradition. It's our last time together before I start school, and I promised my friends." The passion in his voice made my husband and me re-think. After all, what use is a family tradition if you drop it when it's inconvenient? Besides, if we drove down to SC, we could keep going and drive to my mother's memorial service in Stuart FL, then drop Michael off at college.
I'm so glad we came. At first I was so sad and lethargic. I had to force myself to walk the beach every day. But I found solace as I lost myself in books. I read:
1. South of Broad by Pat Conroy--Conroy went to the Citadel at the same time as my son's godfather, Maurice Fox. This book is billed as Conroy's love song to Charleston, and man, he nails it. He manages to capture all the city's social aspects, as well as some of the lyrical beauty of the area. Of course, the language is equisite. Conroy is a god. I'd love to find out what his writing process is--the density of his language leaves me stunned. I finish a line feeling totally inadequate as an author. So, I think I'll take a pen to this book and try to tease out some idea of how he does it.
2. Long Lost by Harlan Coben--An independent mystery bookseller introduced me to Myron Bolitar years ago. Since then, Coben has become a big name with his breakout novels. Here, he revisits Myron, and you can see how he brings what he's learned writing thrillers to his series.
3. The Long Quiche Goodbye by Avery Aames--This is an ARC (Advance Reading Copy) of a darling new cozy by a friend of mine. The characters are charming, and since it's about a cheese shop, I ate WAY too much cheese while reading it. If you love cozies, I promise you'll want a second and third helping of this new series.
4. Everything Matters! by Ron Currie, Jr. -- An independent bookseller (Nikki from Pudd'nhead Books in Webster Groves MO) suggested this. At first, I hesitated. I have mixed feelings about anything sci-fi. But I loved it. The central premise is summed up neatly here: "Everything ends, and Everything matters. Everything matters not in spite of the end of you and all that you love, but because of it." This was the right life message for me as I ponder my mother's passing.
5. Nightshade and Night Smoke by Nora Roberts--Books Three and Four of the thrilling class Night Tales series. These were left in the rental condo, and I'm glad. Nora Roberts is a genius. Reading two books back to back reminded me of the importance of self-discipline as a writer. I really need to outline a couple of her books. She moves the plot along so swiftly. And I need to study how she makes her characters so instantly sympathetic.
6. Her Royal Spyness by Rhys Bowen--I always intended to read this series, but it escaped me. I'm so glad I started with the first one, because I loved this. The Brit-speak brought back fond memories of our time in the UK.
7. The Fire Kimono by Laura Joh Rowland--The 13th in this outstanding series and I've read them all. I love the characters and the setting. This plot was her most complex and compelling to date.
Now I'm reading The Other Queen by Philippa Gregory. She's a genius for finding a new slant on a well-known historical figure. This one's about Mary, Queen of Scots. Wow, does she come alive on the page!
I'm halfway through, so I'll need to buy another book--or two or three--for the trip home. Oh, and I'm listening to Twilight on CDs, too.
It's been a great vacation, and I'm feeling much restored.
What makes a great vacation for you?
Saturday, August 15, 2009
The Fabric of Life
All week we’ve been writing about what we’d do with our craft stuff if we were moving. It wouldn’t be a problem for me to let go of all my yarn. It’s just regular stuff from Michael’s and Joann’s and easily replaceable. There are no stories or memories connected with any of it.
It’s not like the basket of fabric pieces and scraps I left home when I got married. The scraps were all left over from things I’d sewed, or is it sewn? Whatever. All those scraps bring back memories and there are stories connected with all of them. The royal blue raw silk is left from my mother’s dress for my wedding – the dress I was still finishing hours before she had to wear it. Looking back I can see why she was a little nervous, though I did finish the dress in time.
Then there’s the blue paisley material. It’s wool, but so fine it was light enough to wear in summer. The dress I made from it is what I’m wearing in the photo of me standing in Jerusalem. It’s 1967. I’m a volunteer farm worker on a side trip from the kibbutz tucked between Lebanon and Syria. My boyfriend was supposed to have come to Israel with me, but he chickened out and got a job as a camp counselor in Michigan and I went alone. Lots of scary stuff, think land mines, scorpions and runaway lawn mowers.
Along with the scraps are a bunch of ½ yard pieces of fabric. They’re left over from the shoulder bags I made when I was in college. I planned to sell them at the 57th Street Art Fair, but the head of the art fair told me they weren’t art unless I wove the fabric myself and she wouldn’t let me take part in the art fair. I had the purses and I was broke, so I made a display case out of a dress box and stood on the street just outside the fair. The woman who had kept me out came by and seemed annoyed, telling me I could be arrested as a street peddler. The cops drove by several times and paid no attention to me, though I wondered if she’d sent them over. In the end I sold all my bags and the area where I stood is now a community art fair as opposed to the official art fair. The community art fair is open to everyone - no judgements made on what is art or isn’t.
The 2 ½ yard piece with the orange and green pattern isn’t my taste anymore. Actually looking at it now, I can’t imagine I ever thought it was pretty. But that’s isn’t why I keep it. It reminds me of the serendipity of things. I was getting ready for a trip from Chicago to Boston and my mother was reading the New York Times. On the outside of the page she was reading, I saw an ad for a fabric sale at Macy’s. That’s when Macy’s was only in New York and I remembering laughing at myself for looking at the ad, as if it had any relevance to me. Well, I went to Boston and by chance my brother’s college roommate offered me a ride to New York and the chance to stay with his family. I was walking down the street in New York and remembered the ad. I couldn’t get over how amazing it was that I actually ended up at that fabric sale.
And it goes on. Whatever I look at has a story to go with it. So, if I had to move, the basket of fabric goes with.
It’s not like the basket of fabric pieces and scraps I left home when I got married. The scraps were all left over from things I’d sewed, or is it sewn? Whatever. All those scraps bring back memories and there are stories connected with all of them. The royal blue raw silk is left from my mother’s dress for my wedding – the dress I was still finishing hours before she had to wear it. Looking back I can see why she was a little nervous, though I did finish the dress in time.
Then there’s the blue paisley material. It’s wool, but so fine it was light enough to wear in summer. The dress I made from it is what I’m wearing in the photo of me standing in Jerusalem. It’s 1967. I’m a volunteer farm worker on a side trip from the kibbutz tucked between Lebanon and Syria. My boyfriend was supposed to have come to Israel with me, but he chickened out and got a job as a camp counselor in Michigan and I went alone. Lots of scary stuff, think land mines, scorpions and runaway lawn mowers.
Along with the scraps are a bunch of ½ yard pieces of fabric. They’re left over from the shoulder bags I made when I was in college. I planned to sell them at the 57th Street Art Fair, but the head of the art fair told me they weren’t art unless I wove the fabric myself and she wouldn’t let me take part in the art fair. I had the purses and I was broke, so I made a display case out of a dress box and stood on the street just outside the fair. The woman who had kept me out came by and seemed annoyed, telling me I could be arrested as a street peddler. The cops drove by several times and paid no attention to me, though I wondered if she’d sent them over. In the end I sold all my bags and the area where I stood is now a community art fair as opposed to the official art fair. The community art fair is open to everyone - no judgements made on what is art or isn’t.
The 2 ½ yard piece with the orange and green pattern isn’t my taste anymore. Actually looking at it now, I can’t imagine I ever thought it was pretty. But that’s isn’t why I keep it. It reminds me of the serendipity of things. I was getting ready for a trip from Chicago to Boston and my mother was reading the New York Times. On the outside of the page she was reading, I saw an ad for a fabric sale at Macy’s. That’s when Macy’s was only in New York and I remembering laughing at myself for looking at the ad, as if it had any relevance to me. Well, I went to Boston and by chance my brother’s college roommate offered me a ride to New York and the chance to stay with his family. I was walking down the street in New York and remembered the ad. I couldn’t get over how amazing it was that I actually ended up at that fabric sale.
And it goes on. Whatever I look at has a story to go with it. So, if I had to move, the basket of fabric goes with.
Friday, August 14, 2009
Moving violations
It's been a while since I moved. Back then, I tossed a million things. Tossed, burned (yes, we had a "burner" in our back yard), and gave away anything I wasn't going to use. All those things that I might use someday. The only thing I regret leaving behind is the first manuscript I ever completed. It was a romance and had a hot little scene at a high school reunion, up against the lockers...
Moving is good for the soul. Forces you to make tough decisions. But in the ensuing years, I've picked up a lot more stuff. There's a great Delbert McClinton song called, "Too Much Stuff." He sings about the dangers of having too much, having to pay for too much, and having to store too much. The chorus goes like this:
Well, it's way too much.
You're never gonna get enough.
You can pile it high
but you'll never be satisfied.
And that's the key for me. How much is enough? There is a point when I start to get uncomfortable. The fabric morphs out of the sewing room and into the hall. The half-finished quilt projects are strewn about as if they were decorative. And rather than being happy that I've have everything I need at my fingertips, I begin to feel weighed down.
Moving is good for the soul. Forces you to make tough decisions. But in the ensuing years, I've picked up a lot more stuff. There's a great Delbert McClinton song called, "Too Much Stuff." He sings about the dangers of having too much, having to pay for too much, and having to store too much. The chorus goes like this:
Well, it's way too much.
You're never gonna get enough.
You can pile it high
but you'll never be satisfied.
And that's the key for me. How much is enough? There is a point when I start to get uncomfortable. The fabric morphs out of the sewing room and into the hall. The half-finished quilt projects are strewn about as if they were decorative. And rather than being happy that I've have everything I need at my fingertips, I begin to feel weighed down.
That's when I purge. As quilters, I usually have an outlet for extra fabric or notions or patterns. Sometimes a flood or other natural disaster will happen and a call will go out to send unfortunate quilters supplies. My guild will take excess inventory and sell it off. And there's always the Philanthropy committee that makes quilts for people in tough times. There is always a ready supply of need.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Moving Day - Not!
I’m really glad that our blog topic this week involves how to move the important stuff relating to our hobbies. Since my theme around here concerns pets, and they’re members of the family, the answers are easy. Just pack up the pet food, the bowls and zillions of toys, the grooming stuff, the pharmaceuticals and flea treatments, and go.
But if I had to talk about moving my writing stuff, forget it. I’m in my house to stay. Otherwise, I’d have to get organized. I’d have to figure out what of my infinite research materials, including uncountable books, brochures, magazines, clippings and more, I could keep, and what I had to throw away. Of course I have to keep all the binders of notes I made during each trip, in case I ever set a story in the many places we’ve visited. And the photos, although my most recent ones were done on digital cameras with pictures not printed, so they don’t take up as much room as the albums and boxes of earlier photos.
I’d have to pack up all my promotional materials, including lots of bookmarks. Most of the copies of my 23 published books so far are already in labeled boxes, but there sure are a lot of them. Plus, there are my older manuscripts that aren’t on computer.
Then there are all the accoutrements of writing--notecards I wrote on each night after emerging from the bathtub with the info my subconscious mind told me I’d write about the next day. Pens, pencils, notepads, computer paper, and all the other things I need for writing and editing. Computer equipment--the computer itself, monitor, scanner, printer, fax machine, copier, etc. And, oh, yes, there are also the copies of contracts and books relating to my other career--as a lawyer.
Seriously, I do appreciate the discussion this week. Do I really need all the stuff? No, and I do go on occasional binges to clear out an area... to make room for more research material or books!
What about you--is it easier to move your pets or hobbies than the items you’ve collected to enhance your career?
But if I had to talk about moving my writing stuff, forget it. I’m in my house to stay. Otherwise, I’d have to get organized. I’d have to figure out what of my infinite research materials, including uncountable books, brochures, magazines, clippings and more, I could keep, and what I had to throw away. Of course I have to keep all the binders of notes I made during each trip, in case I ever set a story in the many places we’ve visited. And the photos, although my most recent ones were done on digital cameras with pictures not printed, so they don’t take up as much room as the albums and boxes of earlier photos.
I’d have to pack up all my promotional materials, including lots of bookmarks. Most of the copies of my 23 published books so far are already in labeled boxes, but there sure are a lot of them. Plus, there are my older manuscripts that aren’t on computer.
Then there are all the accoutrements of writing--notecards I wrote on each night after emerging from the bathtub with the info my subconscious mind told me I’d write about the next day. Pens, pencils, notepads, computer paper, and all the other things I need for writing and editing. Computer equipment--the computer itself, monitor, scanner, printer, fax machine, copier, etc. And, oh, yes, there are also the copies of contracts and books relating to my other career--as a lawyer.
Seriously, I do appreciate the discussion this week. Do I really need all the stuff? No, and I do go on occasional binges to clear out an area... to make room for more research material or books!
What about you--is it easier to move your pets or hobbies than the items you’ve collected to enhance your career?
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
CLUTTER!
I was afraid I’d find out I golf as poorly with my new clubs as I did with my old ones, that it isn’t my awful old clubs, it’s me. Reality: My game is improved. I’m still not good at it, but I hit farther, and straighter, with my new clubs. It’s also nice to have a new bag with bright, shining clubs that all match in it. I especially like my driver. The head of it is almost as big as my face, but the club is very lightweight. I’m going to have to go to a driving range and try out each club to see how each performs differently. I have three hybrids that take the place of some irons, but the numbers on them are different, seventeen, twenty-two and twenty-five. I’ll take notes so I don’t forget.
I called AmTrak on Monday and connected with a wonderful agent who was not in the least intimidated or irritated with the route a friend and I want to take next year from Saint Paul to Seattle to Sacramento to Salt Lake City, with stops along the way to do book signings. She figured out the fare both with a rail pass and "point to point" – every place we want to get off calls for a separate ticket when we get back on for the next stop – and it’s hundreds of dollars cheaper point to point. That surprised me. But we’re booked, so I guess it’s really going to happen. Look for us in your town, if you’re on our route, in June of 2010. Scheduled stops are: Fargo, Wolf Point, Cut Bank, East Glacier Park, Spokane, Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, Reno, and Salt Lake City. Whew!
We moved into our current residence in June of 2007, from a four-level townhouse to an apartment. I moved from an office made from a nice-size bedroom to a windowless den more than a third smaller in size. So it wasn’t just because I didn’t want to move everything stored in my office to our new place, I couldn’t bring it along. Once I realized that, it was amazing what I decided I could do without. It’s also amazingly liberating to throw things away; it’s like putting down a heavy load you’ve been carrying for a long while. You add to it a little bit at a time so you don’t notice how huge it’s gotten. Then you start to clear things out, toss this and that and it’s almost like an avalanche. "If I don’t have to keep this, how can I possibly think I need to keep that?" Whoo-hoo!
What's interesting is that, two years later, I don't hear myself saying, "I wish I hadn't thrown that out" about anything!
I do wish I were more the sort of person who is very organized. I’m married to that sort of person, and it’s the biggest thing I’m envious of. People visiting us for the first time have no problem telling which office belongs to whom. One has everything put away in neat folders properly labeled or stacked on shelves in an orderly fashion. The other has stacks of paper not filed (every so often I’ll get angry at myself and will catch up on my filing, but in less than a week, there’s another stack built up), shelves cluttered haphazardly, and bags of partly-finished projects (at least they’re in bags, not left out to collect dust) piled all over the place. I like to think my office looks friendly and lived in; my husband would go mad trying to work in such disorder.
Maybe that’s what it is. I can live in more disorder than some people; less than others. I have at least two friends who can live with more disorder than I can stand, and many friends who absolutely must have a lot more order than I need. It’s probably something like, "the time it takes to complete a given task expands to fill the time allotted to it." The clutter piles up to every person’s ability to stand it. I used to think that if I had more room, so there was a place to put everything, I’d be more orderly. But now I think I’m actually a little neater when the space I’m given is severely limited.
I also like the notion already expressed in these pages that every so often we should pretend we’re going to move and go through our collections with that in mind.
I called AmTrak on Monday and connected with a wonderful agent who was not in the least intimidated or irritated with the route a friend and I want to take next year from Saint Paul to Seattle to Sacramento to Salt Lake City, with stops along the way to do book signings. She figured out the fare both with a rail pass and "point to point" – every place we want to get off calls for a separate ticket when we get back on for the next stop – and it’s hundreds of dollars cheaper point to point. That surprised me. But we’re booked, so I guess it’s really going to happen. Look for us in your town, if you’re on our route, in June of 2010. Scheduled stops are: Fargo, Wolf Point, Cut Bank, East Glacier Park, Spokane, Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, Reno, and Salt Lake City. Whew!
We moved into our current residence in June of 2007, from a four-level townhouse to an apartment. I moved from an office made from a nice-size bedroom to a windowless den more than a third smaller in size. So it wasn’t just because I didn’t want to move everything stored in my office to our new place, I couldn’t bring it along. Once I realized that, it was amazing what I decided I could do without. It’s also amazingly liberating to throw things away; it’s like putting down a heavy load you’ve been carrying for a long while. You add to it a little bit at a time so you don’t notice how huge it’s gotten. Then you start to clear things out, toss this and that and it’s almost like an avalanche. "If I don’t have to keep this, how can I possibly think I need to keep that?" Whoo-hoo!
What's interesting is that, two years later, I don't hear myself saying, "I wish I hadn't thrown that out" about anything!
I do wish I were more the sort of person who is very organized. I’m married to that sort of person, and it’s the biggest thing I’m envious of. People visiting us for the first time have no problem telling which office belongs to whom. One has everything put away in neat folders properly labeled or stacked on shelves in an orderly fashion. The other has stacks of paper not filed (every so often I’ll get angry at myself and will catch up on my filing, but in less than a week, there’s another stack built up), shelves cluttered haphazardly, and bags of partly-finished projects (at least they’re in bags, not left out to collect dust) piled all over the place. I like to think my office looks friendly and lived in; my husband would go mad trying to work in such disorder.
Maybe that’s what it is. I can live in more disorder than some people; less than others. I have at least two friends who can live with more disorder than I can stand, and many friends who absolutely must have a lot more order than I need. It’s probably something like, "the time it takes to complete a given task expands to fill the time allotted to it." The clutter piles up to every person’s ability to stand it. I used to think that if I had more room, so there was a place to put everything, I’d be more orderly. But now I think I’m actually a little neater when the space I’m given is severely limited.
I also like the notion already expressed in these pages that every so often we should pretend we’re going to move and go through our collections with that in mind.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Mini pieces on the head of a pin
Theme of the week: how to deal with your crafts supplies when you move?
It gives me a headache.
I have a hard enough time just when I'm expecting company. My crafts area is part of our kitchen/family room: one picnic table and a set of shelves. Oh, yes, and the floor underneath them. Oh, yes, again, and a little spillover into the kitchen.
As with most of us crafters, my finished products are out the door as soon as they're done. They're not the problem. Supplies are the problem.
Like the number of angels on the head of a pin, the number of miniature pieces in my crafts corner exceeds 10 digits. I don't have too much trouble keeping all the food items in the same drawer, for example, but where did I put that miniature mouse, abouthalf the size of my smallest fingernail? And I know I have a one-quarter-inch toothbrush somewhere. But where?
If anyone under 10 (or a badly behaved teen!) is expected, I hide everything, or at least move it out their reach. I dump by categories, more or less, and stash things in boxes in a bedroom. I tell myself that when I put it all back, I'll organize it better.
Not. The photos show you the truth. One photo is of a finished scene, set up to be photographed. Neat, huh? The other is of the messy worktable it was plucked from.
I try to use the same trick Betty mentioned yesterday, commenting on Joanna's blog: I ask myself, what if I were moving? would I keep this?
But of course I'm not moving so I'll keep it until I do. I'd probably toss/give away 80% of what I have, if I were moving. But, for now, it all stays.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Better Five Fires Than One Move
That’s an old Chinese proverb. And you know, the Chinese were onto something. I’m sitting here staring at the detritus of my life/my world as a crafter and I think I’m going to be sick.
Yesterday, I spent two hours sorting through—hang on—eyelets, brads and hooha’s. Yep, I have three craft supply cases full of tiny embellishments and fasteners. Unfortunately many months ago, one of them tipped over and all my bits and bobs went everywhere. In order to get the cases shut, and to pare down my belongings, I had to sift through them. My back cramped after hours of picking through itsy-bitsy but PRICELESS stuff. (I emphasize the word PRICELESS because I simply must believe these are invaluable. Otherwise, I would have thrown my hands up and said, “Fugget about it! I’ll buy more!)
Today I will sort papers. After I go through my stacks of paperwork, that is. Who knows what promises I’ve made that I’ve let slide on through disorganization.
The hardest part? I want to stop and craft. Seriously. I keep thinking, “Just let me work for a while on this…or that…and then, I’ll get back to it.”
Sigh.
I keep telling myself that I will emerge from this purge a leaner, meaner crafting machiner. That never again will I feel swamped and out of control.
Honestly, who am I kidding?
Oh-kaaayy. Back to the boxes.
But first, a decision: What has to stay out? What can’t I do without? What has to be packed last and unpacked first? Hmmm? Gee, that could keep me dithering all week!
Yesterday, I spent two hours sorting through—hang on—eyelets, brads and hooha’s. Yep, I have three craft supply cases full of tiny embellishments and fasteners. Unfortunately many months ago, one of them tipped over and all my bits and bobs went everywhere. In order to get the cases shut, and to pare down my belongings, I had to sift through them. My back cramped after hours of picking through itsy-bitsy but PRICELESS stuff. (I emphasize the word PRICELESS because I simply must believe these are invaluable. Otherwise, I would have thrown my hands up and said, “Fugget about it! I’ll buy more!)
Today I will sort papers. After I go through my stacks of paperwork, that is. Who knows what promises I’ve made that I’ve let slide on through disorganization.
The hardest part? I want to stop and craft. Seriously. I keep thinking, “Just let me work for a while on this…or that…and then, I’ll get back to it.”
Sigh.
I keep telling myself that I will emerge from this purge a leaner, meaner crafting machiner. That never again will I feel swamped and out of control.
Honestly, who am I kidding?
Oh-kaaayy. Back to the boxes.
But first, a decision: What has to stay out? What can’t I do without? What has to be packed last and unpacked first? Hmmm? Gee, that could keep me dithering all week!
Saturday, August 8, 2009
I Want to Scream
This isn’t what I planned to write my blog about, but circumstances changed everything. I always said I wouldn't say anything negative in my blog, but -- I hate Word. I hate Word. I hate Word. I just lost my whole days work because of the stupid program. I have always used WordPerfect from my first computer in the 80s. I am only using Word now because of that is what the copy edited version of A Stitch in Crime came to me in. It is the downside of electronic editing.
In WordPerfect, if you hit save, the very top line will show the trail of drive, folders and file you are in and then say unmodified. So you know for sure you’ve saved it. Word doesn’t do that. If you hit save, it makes some stupid lines that disappear. And yes, it tells you the name of the file you are in, but by not giving the complete location such as the tree of directory names and the drive it’s on, it can get very confusing. As in if you have a copy on your C drive and a back up copy with the same name, you can’t tell which one is open.
My copy edit is due next Thursday. I went through fifty pages today. Somehow in the process of saving it and then using save as to save to my backup copy, everything got confused. All I know is, both copies don’t have my work from today. I would like to scream. I would scream, but as soon as I finish this, I’m going back to try to go through the same pages while it is fresh in my mind.
On a positive note. Last week I mentioned wanting a dress form to use as a model for my crochet projects. Linda from the knit and crochet group I belong to emailed me and offered me “Gloria,” a dress form living in her closet. Gloria has moved to my house and is standing with her hip cocked waiting to take on her new job as crochet model. Thank you, Linda.
I had to add this. I couldn't go to sleep until I went back over the pages. The changes were fresh in my mind and I didn't have to read every word the way I did the first time. It took a lot less time the second time around. This time I gave the back up file a new name so there will hopefully be no more confusion. But I still don't like Word.
In WordPerfect, if you hit save, the very top line will show the trail of drive, folders and file you are in and then say unmodified. So you know for sure you’ve saved it. Word doesn’t do that. If you hit save, it makes some stupid lines that disappear. And yes, it tells you the name of the file you are in, but by not giving the complete location such as the tree of directory names and the drive it’s on, it can get very confusing. As in if you have a copy on your C drive and a back up copy with the same name, you can’t tell which one is open.
My copy edit is due next Thursday. I went through fifty pages today. Somehow in the process of saving it and then using save as to save to my backup copy, everything got confused. All I know is, both copies don’t have my work from today. I would like to scream. I would scream, but as soon as I finish this, I’m going back to try to go through the same pages while it is fresh in my mind.
On a positive note. Last week I mentioned wanting a dress form to use as a model for my crochet projects. Linda from the knit and crochet group I belong to emailed me and offered me “Gloria,” a dress form living in her closet. Gloria has moved to my house and is standing with her hip cocked waiting to take on her new job as crochet model. Thank you, Linda.
I had to add this. I couldn't go to sleep until I went back over the pages. The changes were fresh in my mind and I didn't have to read every word the way I did the first time. It took a lot less time the second time around. This time I gave the back up file a new name so there will hopefully be no more confusion. But I still don't like Word.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Mad Men
Some weeks coming up with blog topics is not easy. This week, however, I was inspired. Reading a writing book on Monday at the gym gave me great thoughts about inspiration. Not just about writing, but quilting, stamping, making art of any kind. The blog was flowing through my brain like the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon.
Only one problem: car trouble. This morning, the usually trustworthy auto started acting up so off to the mechanics I went. Left the car there for them to work and walked home. Easy peasy.
Except that the inspiring book is in the car. At the mechanics. I can’t write my blog without it.
So here I am searching for a new blog topic. Because I don’t have a car, I have the freedom to spend the day a little differently than I planned. I had made arrangements to go to Sophie Littlefield’s signing. Her debut novel, A Bad Day for Sorry, came out this week. She likes to quilt so I thought I’d spend the time sewing that I would have spent traveling to Danville.
And watching Mad Men. I’m hooked on this show. The new season starts soon and I just treated myself to the second season DVD. This is a period piece, taking place in the early sixties in the advertising world. The dialogue is great, the layers of the story deep, and there are plenty of people trying to do the right things. But not quite succeeding.
There’s a lot of car trouble in the shows. The creator, Matt Weiner, comments that we don’t have this kind of problem much any more. Cars seem to run better now. In the sixties and seventies, we were always breaking down somewhere. I remember breaking down in Times Square, back when that was a squalid place, not a Disney movie set. In Mad Men, cars give their owners a lot of trouble and put them in awkward situations.
I relate to this show on a couple of levels. I love the complicated adult story lines, I love the period details, but I’m also connecting with the young kids on the show.
I’m about the same age as Don Draper’s daughter, Sally would be now. My dad was in sales and went to work in a suit and tie, coming home at bedtime after a long day away. I had the same straight cut bangs and wore my Peter Pan shirts tucked into my pants. She’s a good cocktail maker, which I don’t recall ever being asked to do, but I was often sent to the store for Hershey’s syrup and cigarettes.
Child care was different in those days. In one episode, Don boots Sally out of the room with his toe. Other times he swats her over the head with the newspaper. I remember those signs of affection. It was an era when kids were to be seen and not heard, when public displays of affectation weren’t encouraged and no one was saying “I love you” to their friends like I hear from kids today. The gently swats and firm taps were a way of connecting.
I’m glad for my nieces that their fathers are able to express themselves in a myriad of ways, but seeing Don Draper put his hat on his daughter when she greets him at the door reminds me that fathers didn’t have that option back then, but they did the best they could.
Only one problem: car trouble. This morning, the usually trustworthy auto started acting up so off to the mechanics I went. Left the car there for them to work and walked home. Easy peasy.
Except that the inspiring book is in the car. At the mechanics. I can’t write my blog without it.
So here I am searching for a new blog topic. Because I don’t have a car, I have the freedom to spend the day a little differently than I planned. I had made arrangements to go to Sophie Littlefield’s signing. Her debut novel, A Bad Day for Sorry, came out this week. She likes to quilt so I thought I’d spend the time sewing that I would have spent traveling to Danville.
And watching Mad Men. I’m hooked on this show. The new season starts soon and I just treated myself to the second season DVD. This is a period piece, taking place in the early sixties in the advertising world. The dialogue is great, the layers of the story deep, and there are plenty of people trying to do the right things. But not quite succeeding.
There’s a lot of car trouble in the shows. The creator, Matt Weiner, comments that we don’t have this kind of problem much any more. Cars seem to run better now. In the sixties and seventies, we were always breaking down somewhere. I remember breaking down in Times Square, back when that was a squalid place, not a Disney movie set. In Mad Men, cars give their owners a lot of trouble and put them in awkward situations.
I relate to this show on a couple of levels. I love the complicated adult story lines, I love the period details, but I’m also connecting with the young kids on the show.
I’m about the same age as Don Draper’s daughter, Sally would be now. My dad was in sales and went to work in a suit and tie, coming home at bedtime after a long day away. I had the same straight cut bangs and wore my Peter Pan shirts tucked into my pants. She’s a good cocktail maker, which I don’t recall ever being asked to do, but I was often sent to the store for Hershey’s syrup and cigarettes.
Child care was different in those days. In one episode, Don boots Sally out of the room with his toe. Other times he swats her over the head with the newspaper. I remember those signs of affection. It was an era when kids were to be seen and not heard, when public displays of affectation weren’t encouraged and no one was saying “I love you” to their friends like I hear from kids today. The gently swats and firm taps were a way of connecting.
I’m glad for my nieces that their fathers are able to express themselves in a myriad of ways, but seeing Don Draper put his hat on his daughter when she greets him at the door reminds me that fathers didn’t have that option back then, but they did the best they could.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Discounts and Freebies
Looks as if a lot of food stores and other retailers are doing their part to keep customers coming in despite the current economy--and despite their general, yet sometimes disguised, raising of prices. I’m definitely displeased where an item is “on sale” for an amount less than the marked price--and the sale amount is more than the same thing cost a few months ago.
Even so, I’ll take advantage of whatever discounts I can these days, as long as I need the item that’s reduced. I’ll even go out of my way to get a discount or two.
Take pet stores, for example. I recently did an on-line survey and now have a coupon for $5 on my next $25 purchase at the store--which I undoubtedly will take advantage of within the next few days.
This week, my husband and I enjoyed a freebie at a fast-food place that e-mailed us coupons for free tacos on one particular day. Of course we bought a salad with it, too, so they at least got a little payback from us. I seem to be getting a lot of e-mails about BOGOs (buy one, get one) at fast food places, or buy a full meal and receive extra stuff on the side. Or buy a meal and get more food for a reduced price. My family has started forwarding this kind of e-mail to one another so we can all choose which to use.
Then there’s my local supermarket. It was recently remodeled (although I was perfectly happy with it the way it previously was). One of the employees gave me a card worth $10 one day when I was about to walk in but the store was closed because work was being performed--despite its formerly being open 24 hours a day. It’s back to being constantly open, starting this week, but to encourage customers to come back, and to thank us for our (supposed) patience, I received two coupons in the mail, each for $10 off a $25 purchase. Plus, on the day of the store’s grand opening this week, my husband and I were among the first 300 people to pop in and therefore got coupons for free breakfast food: eggs, orange juice and English muffins. They’ll last us through several breakfasts.
Other stores, too, are trying to encourage patronage--like book stores. Heaven! Of course that means I have to spend money to save money, but books are entirely worth it. I’ve cut back on clothing purchases, though, so even really good discounts are a lot less tempting to me than they used to be.
Of course the protagonist of my pet-sitter mystery series, Kendra Ballantyne, has already gone through scaling down her lifestyle after all the stuff that happened to her before the first book in the series, so I’m sure she identifies with this.
So... how are you and your characters spending money to save money these days?
Even so, I’ll take advantage of whatever discounts I can these days, as long as I need the item that’s reduced. I’ll even go out of my way to get a discount or two.
Take pet stores, for example. I recently did an on-line survey and now have a coupon for $5 on my next $25 purchase at the store--which I undoubtedly will take advantage of within the next few days.
This week, my husband and I enjoyed a freebie at a fast-food place that e-mailed us coupons for free tacos on one particular day. Of course we bought a salad with it, too, so they at least got a little payback from us. I seem to be getting a lot of e-mails about BOGOs (buy one, get one) at fast food places, or buy a full meal and receive extra stuff on the side. Or buy a meal and get more food for a reduced price. My family has started forwarding this kind of e-mail to one another so we can all choose which to use.
Then there’s my local supermarket. It was recently remodeled (although I was perfectly happy with it the way it previously was). One of the employees gave me a card worth $10 one day when I was about to walk in but the store was closed because work was being performed--despite its formerly being open 24 hours a day. It’s back to being constantly open, starting this week, but to encourage customers to come back, and to thank us for our (supposed) patience, I received two coupons in the mail, each for $10 off a $25 purchase. Plus, on the day of the store’s grand opening this week, my husband and I were among the first 300 people to pop in and therefore got coupons for free breakfast food: eggs, orange juice and English muffins. They’ll last us through several breakfasts.
Other stores, too, are trying to encourage patronage--like book stores. Heaven! Of course that means I have to spend money to save money, but books are entirely worth it. I’ve cut back on clothing purchases, though, so even really good discounts are a lot less tempting to me than they used to be.
Of course the protagonist of my pet-sitter mystery series, Kendra Ballantyne, has already gone through scaling down her lifestyle after all the stuff that happened to her before the first book in the series, so I’m sure she identifies with this.
So... how are you and your characters spending money to save money these days?
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
IT SLICES, IT DICES
And now for something a little different: On my web site, Monica-Ferris.com, there is a new short story, "It Slices, It Dices." Unpublished anywhere else, it was written as an entry in an anthology of Minnesota State Fair mysteries. Unfortunately, the anthology was never published and the story came back to me. I’ve tweaked it a little, tried selling it to a magazine without success, and so am just offering it for free to anyone who cares to wander by and look for it. It’s not a Betsy Devonshire mystery, the sleuth is a woman police investigator. It’s a "stand alone," not part of a series.
I love our state fair, it’s huge, the second-largest in the nation. I go every year, heading straight to the animal barns. I love the horses, the cows, and especially the chickens. There are some beautiful chickens bred in Minnesota, from the immense Plymouth rocks, to the sleek and colorful banties. One of my favorites is the Polish, who look as if they took a lit firecracker into their mouths where it went off, making the feathers on top of their head stand up and out. Then I walk the midway, though I don’t go on the rides anymore or play the games. I remember when I was in my teens and lusted after one of those huge stuffed animals, but now I think, "Where would I put it?" and worse, "But then I’d have to carry it around the rest of the day!" Still, it’s a nostalgic thing to walk down the midway and stare in awe at that one ride which flings people high in the air on bungie cords. Not for a million dollars, thank you. Then on to the arts and crafts building, to look at the quilts and sweaters and needlework and wood carvings and miniatures. Thence to the hucksters inside the grandstand. Golly, the things offered for sale: knives and popcorn and machines that massage your feet and blown glass and aluminum siding and electric organs and nut fudge and liquids that clean jewelry, and a thousand other things. Our state fair is famous for food, especially food on a stick. Everything from deep-fried fruit on a stick to spaghetti and meatballs on a stick (I’m not kidding, they did it by surrounding the spaghetti with a meatball). The most fattening thing I’ve ever seen at our fair – and they specialize in fat – was a deep-fried Snickers bar. You could raise your cholesterol ten points just walking by the stand selling those things.
It’s August and the fair starts the 27th. I’m already making plans to go.
We are lucky enough to have a home-visit veterinarian. He’s our second one, our first one died suddenly, to our sorrow. She was nice and our cats loved her – they didn’t really know they were getting annual physicals from her, they just thought she was a kind visitor who sometimes played a little rough. I mean, squeezing their tummies a little hard, poking an implement into their ears, and giving them this teeny little prick above the shoulder – but all the while speaking kindly and doing a lot of stroking. Panzi was a little suspicious, but she’s a naturally suspicious cat. Stinker, on the other hand, never caught on. We still have Panzi, but Stinker has gone the way of all flesh, and we now have Snaps. And Snaps, our new vet has discovered, has a little problem: a heart murmur, a malfunctioning mitral valve. Nothing serious right now, just a two on a scale from one to six, but something to look at again on his next visit. Meanwhile it seems as if Snaps is determined to show us there’s nothing to worry about, leaping and running all over the place. Yesterday morning he jumped from atop our chest of drawers onto the top of our bed. Our bed is so high I have to take a flying leap to get into it, then it has a raised bookshelf at the head with lights inset in it, that brings it up near our ceiling ten feet away. Snaps announced his accomplishment by crying out loudly to wake us – it was quarter to six on a morning I am usually able to sleep in. I would have shouted back at him, but to what end? I was already awake and so was my husband. Even Panzi was up.
I finally gave up on my old, cheap golf clubs and found a new set on an e-Bay auction. I was out-bid and disgusted about it but the company offering the clubs contacted me and offered me the set for my bid. I accepted the offer. I hope I like them, but there’s a money back guarantee if I don’t, so I feel all right about buying them. They should be here by the end of this week. Meanwhile, I will play my last game with my old clubs later this morning.
I love our state fair, it’s huge, the second-largest in the nation. I go every year, heading straight to the animal barns. I love the horses, the cows, and especially the chickens. There are some beautiful chickens bred in Minnesota, from the immense Plymouth rocks, to the sleek and colorful banties. One of my favorites is the Polish, who look as if they took a lit firecracker into their mouths where it went off, making the feathers on top of their head stand up and out. Then I walk the midway, though I don’t go on the rides anymore or play the games. I remember when I was in my teens and lusted after one of those huge stuffed animals, but now I think, "Where would I put it?" and worse, "But then I’d have to carry it around the rest of the day!" Still, it’s a nostalgic thing to walk down the midway and stare in awe at that one ride which flings people high in the air on bungie cords. Not for a million dollars, thank you. Then on to the arts and crafts building, to look at the quilts and sweaters and needlework and wood carvings and miniatures. Thence to the hucksters inside the grandstand. Golly, the things offered for sale: knives and popcorn and machines that massage your feet and blown glass and aluminum siding and electric organs and nut fudge and liquids that clean jewelry, and a thousand other things. Our state fair is famous for food, especially food on a stick. Everything from deep-fried fruit on a stick to spaghetti and meatballs on a stick (I’m not kidding, they did it by surrounding the spaghetti with a meatball). The most fattening thing I’ve ever seen at our fair – and they specialize in fat – was a deep-fried Snickers bar. You could raise your cholesterol ten points just walking by the stand selling those things.
It’s August and the fair starts the 27th. I’m already making plans to go.
We are lucky enough to have a home-visit veterinarian. He’s our second one, our first one died suddenly, to our sorrow. She was nice and our cats loved her – they didn’t really know they were getting annual physicals from her, they just thought she was a kind visitor who sometimes played a little rough. I mean, squeezing their tummies a little hard, poking an implement into their ears, and giving them this teeny little prick above the shoulder – but all the while speaking kindly and doing a lot of stroking. Panzi was a little suspicious, but she’s a naturally suspicious cat. Stinker, on the other hand, never caught on. We still have Panzi, but Stinker has gone the way of all flesh, and we now have Snaps. And Snaps, our new vet has discovered, has a little problem: a heart murmur, a malfunctioning mitral valve. Nothing serious right now, just a two on a scale from one to six, but something to look at again on his next visit. Meanwhile it seems as if Snaps is determined to show us there’s nothing to worry about, leaping and running all over the place. Yesterday morning he jumped from atop our chest of drawers onto the top of our bed. Our bed is so high I have to take a flying leap to get into it, then it has a raised bookshelf at the head with lights inset in it, that brings it up near our ceiling ten feet away. Snaps announced his accomplishment by crying out loudly to wake us – it was quarter to six on a morning I am usually able to sleep in. I would have shouted back at him, but to what end? I was already awake and so was my husband. Even Panzi was up.
I finally gave up on my old, cheap golf clubs and found a new set on an e-Bay auction. I was out-bid and disgusted about it but the company offering the clubs contacted me and offered me the set for my bid. I accepted the offer. I hope I like them, but there’s a money back guarantee if I don’t, so I feel all right about buying them. They should be here by the end of this week. Meanwhile, I will play my last game with my old clubs later this morning.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Expressing ourselves, Part 2
I've been having a good time following all the "Wedding Dance" videos, including one spoof "Divorce Video" on YouTube. In case you've missed the hype, here's the one that's been making the rounds recently: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-94JhLEiN0
I found myself wishing I'd been the officiant at one of these celebrations where the whole wedding party dances down the aisle.
As a minister, I've presided over many different styles of weddings – brides and grooms wearing casual dress and flip flops; a couple whose children with other partners formed the wedding party; and even one "fake" wedding, where I'd already married the bride and groom secretly, months before.
Just before I saw the Wedding Dance video, I attended the most solemn, formal ceremony I'd been to in decades, on a college campus, in a majestic chapel with organ music and a wonderfully talented soloist singing in Latin.
Each wedding has its own special tone, and I appreciate them all, but the Wedding Dance captured my attention more than any. It might be because all the stress is gone when no one is worried about a missed step or a glitch in the lighting, or a stray flower petal. It certainly puts me, waiting at the end of the aisle, at ease about a possible hiccup or an unsightly sneeze.
It might also be attractive to me because it's unexpected. When the wedding music starts, we usually all fall silent, perhaps stand up and prepare for a well-rehearsed, serious procession. The creative, unexpected happening delights us and we clap along. {happening? Am I stuck in the sixties??}
These days, I think, call for the more fun ceremonies. Not to tell tales, but of all the couples I've married over the last 20 + years, only one has lived apart before the Wedding Night, so that stress is gone, if you catch my drift. Why not enjoy the moment in unexpected ways?
What's your ideal wedding?
I'm already planning an unexpected wedding element in my next book.
Monday, August 3, 2009
Oh, the Places You'll Go!
This was the title of one of my son’s favorite books when he was a child. Certainly, David and I worked hard to instill in our child a love of travel at an early age. What I didn’t realize was that my other “children,” my books would also travel. That they would take on lives of their own, just as my son has.
For example, many years ago I received an email from a woman in South Africa. She wanted to use Scrapbook Storytelling in her rape counseling. She felt that if women could reframe their stories, they could overcome their sense of shame and see themselves as they truly were—courageous survivors.
Sometime afterwards, a woman in Israel emailed me. She loved my pages on Jewish customs. For many years, Amy Samin and I kept up a lively correspondence. In fact, this post has inspired me to renew it! You can read Amy’s thoughtful and informative blog here: http://postcardsfromisrael-samin.blogspot.com/2009/04/numbers-game.html
Recently, while I was in Texas, I met a sociology teacher who uses Paper, Scissors, Death in her lecture on death any dying. Specifically, she references the quotation from Sharon Shinn—something about how we expect death to be ennobling, but it’s not.
Then last week, I received an email from Lois Foster Hirt. Lois writes a fun dental column which includes any mention of a dentist, dentil hygienist or good lines featuring dental tidbits. Once she finds such a mention in a book, she contacts the author and asks why they mentioned dentistry. The interview appear in her blog: http://www.ladhsociety.org/ (Go to "Hygienists in Print") The books she uses as sources go the the National Museum of Dentistry in Baltimore, Maryland. Recently, she added both Paper, Scissors, Death and Cut, Crop & Die.
I guess my books and my son have something in common: they were born to go places!
For example, many years ago I received an email from a woman in South Africa. She wanted to use Scrapbook Storytelling in her rape counseling. She felt that if women could reframe their stories, they could overcome their sense of shame and see themselves as they truly were—courageous survivors.
Sometime afterwards, a woman in Israel emailed me. She loved my pages on Jewish customs. For many years, Amy Samin and I kept up a lively correspondence. In fact, this post has inspired me to renew it! You can read Amy’s thoughtful and informative blog here: http://postcardsfromisrael-samin.blogspot.com/2009/04/numbers-game.html
Recently, while I was in Texas, I met a sociology teacher who uses Paper, Scissors, Death in her lecture on death any dying. Specifically, she references the quotation from Sharon Shinn—something about how we expect death to be ennobling, but it’s not.
Then last week, I received an email from Lois Foster Hirt. Lois writes a fun dental column which includes any mention of a dentist, dentil hygienist or good lines featuring dental tidbits. Once she finds such a mention in a book, she contacts the author and asks why they mentioned dentistry. The interview appear in her blog: http://www.ladhsociety.org/ (Go to "Hygienists in Print") The books she uses as sources go the the National Museum of Dentistry in Baltimore, Maryland. Recently, she added both Paper, Scissors, Death and Cut, Crop & Die.
I guess my books and my son have something in common: they were born to go places!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Crochet Photos
A while back I got several emails from people suggesting I post photos of the crochet patterns included in my books on my website. Since there aren’t photographs of the finished products in the books, it did seem like a good idea. A good idea, but something I would have to focus on to complete, so I put it off.
The combination of my web guy saying he was going to Africa for six weeks and the fact that I was making some changes to my website finally got me to get it together to do the pictures. It sounds easy, particularly these days with digital cameras. Just snap a few pictures and upload them. Well, it isn’t quite that easy.
First, I couldn’t find any of the Filet Bookmarks from By Hook or By Crook, so I had to make another one. Ditto with the Granny Square Washcloth from Hooked on Murder, though it went a lot faster. Where to take the photos was also an issue. I thought of a bench in my yard that gets nice light, but finally turned my dinging room into my photo studio. The three french doors with a southern exposure let in good light. Then there was the matter of how to display the projects. The bookmark and granny square were pretty easy. My son lent me a black fuzzy board that made a good backdrop for the smaller pieces. I wanted to get a dress form to put the Hugs of Comfort shawl from Dead Men Don't Crochet on. Well, I was looking for an excuse to get one anyway. Joann’s had them on sale, but when I went to the local super store expecting to buy one, I found out they are by order only.
I couldn’t wait for the dress form - remember my web guy is off to Africa next Monday. So, my dining room chair got to wear the shawl. I used the same chair to drape the Cuddle Blanket from By Hook or By Crook over. That was after I got my cat off of the shawl and cuddle blanket. He had rolled them together and was on the way to turning them into a cat coccoon. He left his mark on the black fuzzy board, too. Thank heavens for those lint remover wands.
I popped my memory stick in my computer and looked through the photos. The cat was in on that too. Fourteen pound Rocky has this habit of coming up behind me and jumping over the back of my chair and landing on my shoulders, then working his way into my lap where he does his best to get me to pay attention to him instead of whatever I’m trying to do. So, it took longer than it could have to choose the photos and send them to my web guy.
There was a lot of back and forth between us getting it straight what photo went with what book. Who could blame him? There are a lot of hooks in the titles and he isn’t a crocheter.
Now at last the photos are in the right order and connected with the right book and out there for everyone to see at www.BettyHechtman.com.
The combination of my web guy saying he was going to Africa for six weeks and the fact that I was making some changes to my website finally got me to get it together to do the pictures. It sounds easy, particularly these days with digital cameras. Just snap a few pictures and upload them. Well, it isn’t quite that easy.
First, I couldn’t find any of the Filet Bookmarks from By Hook or By Crook, so I had to make another one. Ditto with the Granny Square Washcloth from Hooked on Murder, though it went a lot faster. Where to take the photos was also an issue. I thought of a bench in my yard that gets nice light, but finally turned my dinging room into my photo studio. The three french doors with a southern exposure let in good light. Then there was the matter of how to display the projects. The bookmark and granny square were pretty easy. My son lent me a black fuzzy board that made a good backdrop for the smaller pieces. I wanted to get a dress form to put the Hugs of Comfort shawl from Dead Men Don't Crochet on. Well, I was looking for an excuse to get one anyway. Joann’s had them on sale, but when I went to the local super store expecting to buy one, I found out they are by order only.
I couldn’t wait for the dress form - remember my web guy is off to Africa next Monday. So, my dining room chair got to wear the shawl. I used the same chair to drape the Cuddle Blanket from By Hook or By Crook over. That was after I got my cat off of the shawl and cuddle blanket. He had rolled them together and was on the way to turning them into a cat coccoon. He left his mark on the black fuzzy board, too. Thank heavens for those lint remover wands.
I popped my memory stick in my computer and looked through the photos. The cat was in on that too. Fourteen pound Rocky has this habit of coming up behind me and jumping over the back of my chair and landing on my shoulders, then working his way into my lap where he does his best to get me to pay attention to him instead of whatever I’m trying to do. So, it took longer than it could have to choose the photos and send them to my web guy.
There was a lot of back and forth between us getting it straight what photo went with what book. Who could blame him? There are a lot of hooks in the titles and he isn’t a crocheter.
Now at last the photos are in the right order and connected with the right book and out there for everyone to see at www.BettyHechtman.com.
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