Thought for the day: Our wedding was many years ago. The celebration continues to this day. [Gene Perret]
Okay, so this dudette isn't popping back just yet.
Know why?
Today is our FIFTIETH anniversary! Holy cheese and crackers, how in the world could that many years fly by so quickly, Batman...?
So needless to say, even after last week's adventures, we're still celebrating. (So sue us. We're old... it takes us longer! HA!)
I barely recognize those fresh young faces... but the feelings... they're stronger than ever.
(YES! I know how lucky we are.)
I'll be climbing back into the ol' blogging saddle again next Friday. I thought about turning the comments off, because I might not be around to respond, but what the heck? I'll leave 'em, just in case you have something scathingly brilliant to say. (You always do!) Please forgive me if I don't respond or pay a return visit to your blog. I'm, uh... celebrating.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Thought for the day: For most of history, Anonymous was a woman. [Virginia Woolf]
[image courtesy of Wikipedia]
Know what last Friday was...? Give up?
It was International Women's Day. (Yeah... really!) And doggone it, I'm still waiting for my darned cake...
The first International Women's Day was in 1910, but because its roots were based in socialism, for many years, only places like Russia and Eastern Europe paid any attention to it. That is, until 1977, when the U.N. finally climbed aboard and officially proclaimed March 8 to thereafter be known as International Women's Day.
Anyhow, the whole month has now been designated to the recognition of women, whose contributions to society have largely gone unnoticed, and I thought I should write something about at least one of those rather amazing unsung women from history before the month comes to an end. This post is actually an updated version of one from six years ago, so some of you may remember parts of it, but I believe this lady's story merits a re-telling, because for whatever reason, her story still remains largely untold.
A woman is like a teabag: you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water. [Eleanor Roosevelt]
Oh well, still no cake to go with my tea. (For now.) Nonetheless, it's my pleasure to forge ahead and tell you a little something about a little-known kick-ass American woman who deserves a spot in our history books.
Okay, quick: Who was the first woman in American history to run for national office?
[image courtesy of Wikipedia]
If you said 1984 V.P. candidate Geraldine Ferraro...
you would be...
( Ding-Ding-Ding!) wrong.
She was the first to be nominated by a major party, but would you believe the first woman, who actually ran for President, did so fifty years before women were even granted the right to vote?
I kid you not. That lady had some serious kinda chutzpah.
[image courtesy of Wikipedia]
Yep, her name was Victoria Woodhull, and in 1872, the Equal Rights Party nominated her as its presidential candidate. Equal rights is exactly what she believed in, too... for women, for blacks, and for the working class.A year earlier, she became the first woman in history to appear before the House Judiciary Committee, where she delivered an impassioned and articulate argument for women's suffrage. And she had other radical outside-the-box ideas, too, such as an eight-hour workday, graduated income tax, social welfare programs, and profit-sharing. Not exactly mainstream thinking for her day.
In 1870, before she ran for office, she was the first woman to open a Wall Street brokerage firm. Made a boatload of money, too, some of which she used to become the first woman to found a weekly newspaper. The purpose of the paperwas to support her run for office, and its primary interest was feminism. During its six years of publication, the paper covered such taboo topics as sex education, free love, women's suffrage, short skirts, spiritualism, vegetarianism, and licensed prostitution.
I used to be Snow White, and then I drifted. [Mae West]
[image courtesy of Wikipedia]
Uh, yeah, I did say free love. Not an orgy-filled, spouse-swapping kind of free love, mind you, although by the way she was treated by many people of her time, you would've thought that's exactly what she was espousing. What she believed in was a woman's right to marry, divorce and bear children as she saw fit... without governmental interference.
At right is a Thomas Nast caricature of Woodhull, depicting her as Mrs. Satan. She's holding a sign that says, Be saved by FREE LOVE, and behind her is a woman, laden with children and a drunken husband. In the caption, the woman tells Mrs. Satan, I'd rather travel the hardest path of matrimony than follow your footsteps. See? Not even the women of Woodhull's day supported her ideas. Not that it mattered... they couldn't vote. Some people think having large breasts makes a woman stupid. Actually, it's quite the opposite: a woman having large breasts makes men stupid. [Rita Ruder]
[image courtesy of Wikipedia]
Oh, there's a lot more to the story of Victoria Woodhull... like her dabbling in magnetic healing and spiritualism; her friendship with Cornelius Vanderbilt; and why she was thrown into jail two days before the 1872 election... on obscenity charges.
But I said I was only gonna tell you a little something about Ms. Woodhull, so I won't elaborate. Suffice it to say, she didn't receive a single electoral vote. Following the election, she said, The truth is that I am too many years ahead of this age and the exalted views and objects of humanitarianism can scarcely be grasped as yet by the unenlightened mind of the average man. Okay, so I never said she was humble. But she was right. Many of the reforms she campaigned for, considered extreme and controversial in her time, later came to pass. By the way, know who her running mate was? Frederick Douglass... the first black man nominated for national office.
How do you know if it's time to wash the dishes and clean your house? Look inside your pants. If you see a penis in there, it's not time. [Jo Brand]
Well, it's not time for me to wash the dishes and clean house, either. Not yet. It's time to bake myself a damned cake. I am woman; hear me roar!
A woman should always know her place. Yep, by golly, a woman's place is in the House... and the Senate... and maybe someday... the White House.
So in celebration, let us raise a glass (or cuppa) to all those wonderful women worldwide, both known and unknown, who spent (and continue to spend) their lives striving to make this world a better place, and who exemplify these words by Maya Angelou: ... you shouldn't go through life with a catcher's mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something back.
[image courtesy of Wikipedia]
I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific. [Lily Tomlin] With deepest apologies to all of you good poets out there, here is my humble Haiku salute to the way-ahead-of-her-time Victoria Woodhull:
Brazen seeds of thought, Sown now, bereft of sunshine, Shall bloom in due time. Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Thought for the day: Today I will live in the moment. Unless it's unpleasant, in which case, I will eat a cupcake.
[image courtesy of Unsplash]
I'd say we're all winners, or at least, we all have an equal opportunity to make this a terrific... and winning... day. All we have to do is carpe the hell out of the diem. Seize the day, people!
I was at a loss as to what to write about today, so I decided to let the day itself dictate the topic.
So what's special about this day?
Well, for one thing, February first is the day Abraham Lincoln signed the 13th amendment, which ended slavery in the United States. In 1948, Truman honored the event by making today National Freedom Day as a way to recognize America as a symbol of freedom.
May freedom and justice become realities... and not just lofty ideals or symbols... both in the U.S. and in every corner of the world.
We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope. [Martin Luther King, Jr.]
So, please... feel free to celebrate! We can't all visit the Liberty Bell to lay a wreath, but we can most certainly go to Taco Bell for lunch.
[image courtesy of Morguefile]
Know what else today is?
Hula in the Coola Day! Woo HOO!
Know how to celebrate? Go outside and do the hula, of course! Maybe you could have a luau, even. With tiki torches and ukuleles, the whole bit. (On the plus side, if there's snow on the ground in your neck of the woods, maybe the tiki torches will encourage it to melt...?)
Reminds me a little of the one and only time I ever went trick-or-treating. I was thirteen years old. My father was... let's just say he was difficult... so Halloween at our house meant locking the door, closing the drapes, and turning out the lights. Forget giving candy to any so-and-so neighborhood kids, let alone allowing this so-and-so kid to go out begging for it. But that year... my father was working the 3 to 11 shift, and my mother said I could go out with my friends. (Yes, there may possibly have been some uber dramatic begging involved.) Anyhow, I decided to go as a hula dancer. Yeah. In Maryland. In October. I made the coolest grass skirt ever out of crepe paper, and I decorated a bra top out the wazoo, and I even had a lei. I was ready, baby!
My mother said no way.
She made me wear a sweater under the decorated-out-the-wazoo bra top, dungarees under the skirt, and a big old coat over top. Let's just say I didn't do the hula... but don't let that stop YOU from doing it today!
[image courtesy of morguefile]
Let's see... what else is being celebrated today...?
Well, it's Change Your Password Day. (You can go first...) It's also G.I. Joe Day, a day to celebrate the first doll designed just for boys. Yeah, yeah, I know. NOT a doll. An action figure. (I wonder why he and Barbie never got together? Think her personality's too plastic for him?)
Today is also (ta-Da!) Decorating with Candy Day. Pretty cool, I guess, but heck, I celebrate that darned near every day. I simply love to decorate my tummy with candy...
[image courtesy of morguefile]
YUM! Today is also National Baked Alaska Day. To be perfectly honest, I've never tasted this dessert before, but the cake, ice cream and browned meringue combination sounds absolutely scrumptious. Maybe today's the day...?
Today is also National Serpent Day and Robinson Crusoe Day. (Rather fitting that the day falls on a Friday this year, dontcha think?)
It's also National Get Up Day.
Somehow, I think expectations are higher than simply crawling out of bed, but at least, I accomplished that much. Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
Tomorrow, I may touch my toes.
I saved the best for last.
Today is Spunky Old Broads Day!
Actually, today is the first day of a whole month's celebration of us sassy women over fifty who refuse to get old quietly, and who are hell-bent on living a regret-free life. YAY, us!!!
Today is the oldest you've ever been and the youngest you'll ever be, so make the most of it!
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Thought for the day: North, south, east, or west, old traditions are the best.
Hi-ya! I hope you all have the merriest Christmas ... and happiest Hanukkah... ever. Lots of love and smiles from our house to yours.
Talking about smiles, it's time for me to share that old chestnut Christmas post with you again. What can I say? Don't wanta buck tradition. So with a few revisions, here ya go... again... (Oh, and if you're here because you're looking for my WEP post, you'll find it one post back.)
Traditions don't have to necessarily be classy, you know. Sometimes, they're just plain fun... or funny. Candlelight services on Christmas Eve, singing the Hallelujah Choruswith the church choir, and caroling with the neighbors... especially when it's snowing... those things are all both traditional and classy. This post? Not so much. But this is the eightth year I'm running it, so I think it has now officially become a tradition. Because I said so. And because I'm lazy it's just plain fun... and funny.
So, here it is, my classic tale, although not exactly in the same category as Dickens, about (ahem) inflated dreams...
Enjoy. **** Thought for the day: We don't stop laughing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop laughing.
No telling how many years this wreath has graced our front door.
We never made a huge production out of outdoor decorations, but every year, our kids made the same grand proclamation after we cruised our decorated-out-the-wazoo neighborhood on the way home from the candlelight service on Christmas Eve.
"The best one of all!" they'd lie as we pulled into our driveway.
Okay, so maybe they weren't really lying through their braces. Maybe anticipation of the hidden presents awaiting inside added a certain luster to their perception of our decorations.
Anyhow, I'd say decorating styles can pretty much be divvied into three categories: traditional, enlightening, and inflated. Us? We're traditional. That means, except for an occasional new acquisition, I've pretty much used the same decorations every year. For a LOT of years. Like the ornaments that hung on my parents' tree when they were first married, some of which are now paper thin, and considerably faded with age. And a slew of decades-old goodies fashioned by our children with copious quantities of felt, glue and glitter, construction paper, walnut shells, clothespins, eyeglass lenses, and even a Mason jar lid. A black spider in a golden web and a huge decorated crab shell, both made by my sister-in-law. Boxes of tinsel painstakingly applied, strand by strand, and then painstakingly removed to store in a box for yet another year. Like I said, traditional. Well, to be more accurate, I suppose we've become more traditional cum lazy, because each year, I use less and less decorations, and some of them don't even make it down out of our attic anymore. This year, very few decorations found their way out of the storage boxes. (A RED tablecloth counts as a decoration, right???)
These carolers once belonged to my grandmother.
Everybody knows the enlightening type of decorator. They're the ones with so many lights blazing in their front yards, they risk causing a blackout across three states every time they turn 'em on. Very flashy. Sometimes, they even incorporate animation and music, too, and carloads of people stop by every night to ooh and aah over their winter wonderland. It isn't at all unusual for a competition of sorts to begin when multiple enlighteners live in close proximity. (Those neighborhoods can be seen from the space station.)
We're more like the house on the right these days:
And then, there's the inflated. This is a fairly recent category. I sure don't remember seeing this sort of display when I was a kid. Nowadays, you can purchase just about any character you can think of ... inflate it ... and stick it on your front lawn. And if you can't find a particular character, for the right price, you can probably have someone make one for you. Then, all those characters can weave and bob all over your yard.
Now then, to the point of today's post. Time for a tale about a Christmas inflatable of an entirely different ilk. This story originated in 1999, and was alleged to be the winning entry to a Louisville Sentinel contest about the wildest Christmas dinner. Turns out, no such newspaper ever existed, and the writer remains unknown, but the story lives on, thanks to the good ol' Internet. (WARNING: Better put your drink down before you read it.) Now here, after a bit of minor editing on my part, is that story:
As a joke, my brother Jay used to hang a pair of pantyhose over his fireplace every Christmas Eve. He said the only thing he wanted was for Santa to fill them, but what they say about Santa checking his list twice must be true, because every Christmas morning, the other stockings would all be bulging with treats, but Jay's poor pitiful pantyhose were always left dangling as empty as ever.
So one year, I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses, a fake nose, and a ski cap, and went in search of an inflatable love doll.
Know what? They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore. By the way, if you've never been in an X-rated store before, two words: don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there for an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" and "Who would buy that?"
So anyway, I finally made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane, but finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry, but I settled for the bottom of the price scale: Lovable Louise. To call her a doll required a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve, with the help of a bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan, and she let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled Jay's pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. Then I went home and giggled for a couple of hours.
The next morning, my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy, but his poor dog was very confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. We agreed that Louise should remain in her pantyhose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked.
My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."
"Who would play with something like that?" she snapped.
I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.
"Where are her clothes?" she continued.
"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room.
But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?"
Again, I could have answered, but why risk it? It was Christmas, and nobody wanted to spend it in the back of an ambulance saying, "Hang on, Granny, hang on!"
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me, waggled his eyebrows, and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?"
I told him she was Jay's friend, and a few minutes later, noticed Grandpa standing by the mantel, talking to Louise. And not just talking. He was actually flirting. It was then we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom every morning. Then she lurched from the pantyhose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants, and Granny threw down her napkin, and stomped outside to sit in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember. Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health.
After that, Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies, and I'm pretty sure Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.
*****************
Merry Christmas! May all your dreams... no matter how inflated... come true.
Hanukkah is the festival of light that celebrates the triumph of light over darkness, of purity over adulteration, and spirituality over materialism. Whatever our religion or non-religion, these are all things worth celebrating, don't you think? Here's wishing you all much light... and love.
I'll be taking off the rest of the year, and will be back on January 2 for the IWSG post.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Thought for the day: Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow? [nursery rhyme]
[source: morguefile]
My name isn't Mary, but I'll tell ya how my garden grows, anyhow. At my age, I should've known better, and I definitely should've looked more closely at the labels on those dirt cheap seeds I bought from that shady guy at the flea market.
I thought I was getting a great deal on some Lavatera and Aster seeds, but it turned out, I bought Lavatoria and Assters. (sigh) Now we have bathtubs busting out all over, and even worse, little toilets are starting to come in. (I'm afraid to plant the Moonflowers and Twolips...)
[source: morguefile]
Okay, so maybe our garden isn't quite that bad, but I'm one of those people who always started out the season with big greenhouse dreams of how gorgeous our garden was gonna be, but when the reality of hot temperatures and biting insects dug in, I kinda let nature... and the weeds... take over. That's one reason I enjoy going to botanical gardens so much. I get to see all the beauty I imagined without having to do any of the work.
Like a good part of the country, we've had an incredible amount of rain this year. So much that my sturdy old rosemary bush drowned. Literally. Its roots simply rotted away. (I WILL replace it.) On the other hand, our hydrangea has never been happier, or its blooms more beautiful.
Anyhow, as our anniversary was approaching last month, I wanted to celebrate at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens, because there's a reeeeeally special exhibit going on there. But no surprise, the forecast called for rain, rain, and more rain. (sigh) BUT... in spite of the dismal forecasts, the morning of the 24th was merely overcast. No liquid sunshine. Then the actual sun (What is that strange thing in the sky?) came out... and we (ta-DA!) went to the gardens. The temperature was toasty, but not a single drop of rain fell until after we finished at the gardens, went to dinner, and then got safely back home. (Then the clouds let loose.)
So what was this special exhibit I wanted to see? In July of 2013, I wrote a post about an awesome mosaiculture exhibit we went to see at the gardens, the first big exhibit of its kind in our country. And now? The gardens are hosting another even bigger and better mosaiculture exhibit!
What the heck is mosaiculture, you ask? It's a blend of art and horticulture that first bloomed (Sorry, I couldn't resist.) in Europe as early as the 16th century. Simply put, intricate metal frames are designed and built, and then they're stuffed with a growing medium, fitted with an internal irrigation system, and then plants are plugged into pockets of a special fabric that's stretched over the frames. Just as in 2013, the exhibit came to Atlanta from the fine folks of the International Mosaiculture of Montreal.
Before I show you pics of some of the sculptures featured in this year's show, how about a brief video to take you behind the scenes?
Okay, ready? Here goes... and I'll save my favorite for last.
This is the earth goddess,who first appeared at the first Imaginary Worlds mosaiculture show, and is now a permanent part of the gardens. Water usually flows over her hand, but her pool was drained and she was getting some maintenance work done when we were there.
This year's show was subtitled Once Upon a Time, and most of the exhibits were much more massive and ambitious than the last time around.
Like this massive Phoenix Rising... pretty appropriate for the city of Atlanta.
And this lumbering mastodon.
It was pretty warm, but it didn't keep ole Rip Van Winkle from taking a snooze.
No fantasy story world would be complete without Pegasus.
Or a mermaid, basking in the sun.
Shades of Arabian nights, perhaps? The details in these camels were amazing.
Camel #2 in the caravan.
And camel #3.
All three of them to give a better perspective as to how large they are.
A lovely sleeping princess.
And NOW... for my favorite!
Ready?
Isn't he absolutely gorgeous???
Here's a closer look at one of the dragon's legs. I took quite a few shots of the dragon, (Did I happen to mention he was my favorite...?) but none of them really do it justice. The piece is both massive and majestic. Just as a dragon should be.
The International Mosaiculture of Montreal's roots ( sorry) reach back to 1998, when it first began creating these gorgeous works of art, and each year since it first sprouted, (sorry, again) they've hosted an international festival-type competition. This year's festival hasn't yet begun, but plans are currently being planted and will soon be in full bloom. (sorry... but only a little) Would you like a sneak peek at what's happening so far?
So there ya have it. It was a glorious way to spend an anniversary... or any other day. It was every bit as wonderful as I expected it to be, and for those of you who live in the area, the show will be continuing until the end of October, so you still have plenty of time to catch it.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Hi-ya. Welcome to this month's edition of the Insecure Writer's Support Group meeting... er, virtual meeting, that is. This, the first Wednesday of the month, is the time when writers all over the world post about the ups and downs, the highs and lows, the ins and outs... of writing. We celebrate... we complain... we commiserate. Whatever we need, this is the place to find it. Humble thanks and a jolly tip of the hat go to Alex Cavanaugh, our fearless ninja leader and the originator of this fine group. If you'd like to join (It's FREE!) or would like to read some of the other posts, please go HERE
If any of you writers are unsure about the value of pre-publication feedback from other writers and readers, let me tell ya right now... beta readers are worth their weight in gold. In chocolate, even! I'm beyond grateful to a fantastic group of ladies, most of whom are IWSG members, who read my manuscript and offered some extremely helpful insights and suggestions. Without a doubt, their ideas and support are making Explosive Beginnings much better than I could have ever managed on my own. So, writers? Sure, you can probably do it on your own... but I guarantee you, you can do it even better with a little help from your IWSG friends.
Okay, before I answer this month's question, I'm gonna share a small portion of an oldie-but-goodie post from August, 2013. Back then, it was quite common for bloggers to bestow various awards and questionnaires on other bloggers, who would then annoybug the crap out of pass the meme on to other bloggers and on and on and on. This whole thing has mostly become obsolete, but I thought the questions in the following one were rather appropriate for an IWSG post. Feel free to answer any or all of the questions on your blog or to provide an answer within your comment. If ya wanta. No biggie.
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Thought for the day: The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. [Mark Twain]
[image courtesy of Wikipedia]
Well, if you want to be technical, nobody actually said I was dead... but the lovely Mary Paxdid tag my toe. So to speak. If you don't know Mary, you should. Not only is she a very sweet gal, she's also a very talented writer. Science fiction kinda stuff. Stuff I didn't think I liked... until I read her books. Really. Good stuff. You should check it out.
So anyhow, this meme she tagged me with is fairly simple. She said I didn't have to participate, but then bless her sneaky little heart, she said she hoped I was... groovy. Can you beat that? Me? Groovy? Hell yes. That's me... one of the grooviest little ol' ladies in the whole state of Georgia, so what can I say? I had no choice but to participate, right? I'm no square, dude.
I'd be happy to tell you where this pic came from... if I remembered.
So what's this tag all about, anyway? Well, Mary provided nine questions related to writing, and said I only had to answer four. Actually, that's quite considerate, if you think about it. Less chance that I'll bore you so badly that you need a toe tag.
Anyhow, here's the full gamut of questions:
1. What are you working on right now?
2. How does it differ from other works in its genre?
3. What experiences have influenced you?
4. Why do you write what you do?
5. How does your writing process work?
6. What is the hardest part about writing?
7. What would you like to try as a writer that you haven't yet?
1. What am I working on right now? This blogpost. (Sheesh.) Oh, you mean other than blogging, huh? My current WIP, on which I've done very little work and made very little progress, will be more mainstream than my recent release, and will have some delicious twists at the end. The tentative title is Blast Rites. So far, the research process has taught me how to make my own explosives and what it was like to live in a girls' reform school in the early '60s. Fun stuff! [NOTE: That WIP, which was in the thinking-about-it stage when this post was written five years ago, has since morphed into a trilogy, part one of which will be published in the very near future.]
3. What experiences have influenced me?
All of 'em. Really, I'm not trying to be a smart ass here. (No trying needed... it comes naturally.) I think each of us is the sum product of all our experiences, good, bad, or indifferent. You a one-big-experience kinda person, or would you rather graze leisurely at life's all-you-can-eat buffet? I'm old. I get more bang for my buck at the buffet. Especially if I carry a suitcase-sized purse.
4. Why do I write what I do? Because I'm the only one who can. Again, not trying to be a smart ass. Each of us is unique, with a unique set of life experiences, and a unique outlook, so that unique voice and outlook is gonna be reflected in our writing. Universal slice-of-life stories about how families and friends interact intrigue me. Quirky characters that can make a reader laugh, cringe, and nod with self-recognition delight me. Unexpected twists make me want to stand up and cheer. In essence, I try to write the kind of story I want to read. I make myself laugh, and make myself cry, and hope readers will have the same reactions when they read it. Heck, who am I kidding? I'm not proud. I hope they read it, period.
7. What would I like to try as a writer that I haven't tried yet? A Pulitzer would be nice. But I'll settle for overhearing two strangers talking about how much they loved my book.
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What's that? You're not a writer? Okay, then, here's a question for you non-writer types to consider: Are you turned off by repetitive posts on blog after blog after blog regarding cover reveals, book launches, and the like? Or are you a book slut like me, who's forever being persuaded by those posts to buy yet another book...?
[image courtesy of Morguefile]
So now on to this month's question: How do you celebrate when you achieve a writing goal/finish a story?
When I finished writing the first draft of Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade, I had a glass of bubbly with my hubby to celebrate. Man, talk about jumping the gun! There was still a LOT more work to do before I was actually finished with that book.
When I received my first big check in the mail for a published short story, I celebrated by blowing it on a new laptop.
With Explosive Beginnings, even though it's getting verrrrrrry close to publication, I haven't done any celebrating and I probably won't after it's published, either, because NOW I know how much more work lies ahead... especially seeing's as how this is only the first book of a trilogy. Oooh, and maybe a prequel after that? Then a Vietnam-era romance? And I still kinda like the idea of writing a sex & marriage kinda advice book... (under a fake name, of course...) So keep that damned toe tag away from me... I've still got a lot of work to do.
Bottom line? For me, the very best way to celebrate reaching a writing goal is to start reaching for a new one. Because when it comes to writing, we are NEVER truly done. (But one little glass of bubbly never hurts...)
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
Thought for the day: Being kind is more important than being right.
I read somewhere that the original reason women carried bouquets of flowers during their wedding ceremonies was to mask unpleasant body odors. Not a terribly romantic notion, but in those days, I reckon bathing was about as rare as a martini bar in the middle of the Sahara.
Still, for whatever reason the tradition started, most brides still carry flowers, no matter how large or small their ceremony may be. Heck, flowers play a part in lots of different occasions.
Like poppies.
Since Lt. Col. John McCrae penned the poem InFlanders Field on May 3, 1915from a WWI battlefield in Belgium, the poppy has been a symbol of remembrance and is closely associated with Memorial Day and Veterans Day. Today is our country's first National Poppy Day, and going forward, the Friday before Memorial Day will continue to carry this designation. Ever wonder about the significance of the red crepe paper poppies made and distributed to the public by veterans every year? The red represents the blood of those who gave their lives; the black represents mourning; and the green leaf represents regrowth following the devastation of war. Did you know there's even a correct way to wear a remembrance poppy? It should be worn on the left side, closest to the heart, with the leaf positioned at the 11:00 position, in honor of the 11th hour, 11th day, 11th month ending of WWI.
I only intended to write a short intro before sharing the following anniversary re-run, but I guess I got carried away. This past Wednesday was our 48th wedding anniversary, and next Monday is Memorial Day, so this post is in honor of both those occasions. I will always remember our wedding, and we all must honor and have remembrance for those who made the supreme sacrifice. Freedom is not free.
The following was originally posted on May 24, 2013, with the title Still Celebrating.
It'll probably take me a little longer than usual to respond to your comments, because, ya know, our celebration continues... Forty-eight years. Life is good.
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
********************************* Thought for the day: Our wedding was many years ago. The celebration continues to this day. [Gene Perret]
Yeah, our wedding was a few years ago.
I love being married. It's so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life. [Rita Rudner]
Lucky me, I found that one special person at a very young age, and have been annoying the crap out of him ever since. Met him at the scabby-kneed age of twelve. (And married him anyway!) Okay, so we looked a little different when we got married in '69. Yeah, yeah, yeah... he had hair... I had a waist. Lots of ups and downs since then, too, but one thing that hasn't changed? Our sense of humor. We're still laughing. Still working hard to pull the proverbial applecart in the same direction.
Still loving.
A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person. [Mignon McLaughlin]
Of course, if you ask Smarticus how to make a marriage last, he'd probably say what he always says. He says the secret lies in him saying two simple words, whether he means 'em or not: Yes, dear. (He's kind of a smart ass.)
I say a successful marriage requires hardhats, because it's an ongoing project, and never really done. A successful marriage is an edifice that must be rebuilt every day. [Andre Maurois]
Doggone it, there's no such thing as resting on your laurels when it comes to marriage, is there? Or as Smarticus says, "It only takes one aw sh*t to wipe out two attaboys." (Told ya he's a smart ass.) Lily Tomlin expressed it a bit more delicately. She said, The road to success is always under construction.
So maybe a successful marriage isn't something we ever achieve, but if you think about it, that's a good thing, because if we think we've already arrived, we may no longer strive. Best to keep wearing those hardhats, to keep building that road to success, and to savor every bit of joy and humor we find along the way. Gotta have fun. Gotta laugh.
Talking about fun and laughter, remember Red Skelton? He was a very sweet, very mild-mannered PG-rated comedian. Anyway, he and his wife were married for many, many years, and here's his Recipe for the Perfect Marriage:
Two times a week, we go to a nice restaurant, have a little beverage, good food and companionship. She goes on Tuesdays, and I go on Fridays.
We also sleep in separate beds. Hers is in California, and mine is in Texas.
I take my wife everywhere ... but she keeps finding her way back.
I asked my wife where she wanted to go for our anniversary. "Somewhere I haven't been in a long time!" she said. So I suggested the kitchen.
We always hold hands. If I let go, she shops.
She has an electric blender, electric toaster, and electric bread maker. She said, "There are too many gadgets and no place to sit down!" So I bought her an electric chair.
My wife told me the car wasn't running well because there was water in the carburetor. I asked where the car was, and she told me, "In the lake."
She got a mud pack and looked great for two days. Then the mud fell off.
She ran after the garbage truck, yelling, "Am I too late for the garbage?" The driver said, "No, jump in!"
Remember. Marriage is the number one cause of divorce.
I married Miss Right. I just didn't know her first name was Always.
I haven't spoken to my wife in eighteen months. I don't like to interrupt.
The last fight was my fault, though. My wife asked, "What's on TV?" and I said, "Dust!"
No telling what we're gonna do over the weekend, but I know it'll be an adventure. When you're married to a smart ass, every day is.
A long marriage is two people trying to dance a duet and two solos at the same time. [Anne Taylor Fleming]
Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.
To those who died, honor and eternal rest; to those still in bondage, remembrance and hope; to those who returned, gratitude and peace. [words engraved on the Illinois Vietnam veterans memorial]
