Monday, November 30, 2009

I'm Baaaack!

National Novel Writing Month officially ends today, which means my self-imposed exile from Blogland is over. I've really missed you guys, and I'm planning to spend the week trekking through my entire list of Followers and catching up with each and every one of you. (Thank God I'm not Vodka Mom, or I'd have to give up sleeping.) Despite my neglect, a lot of you continued to visit, and to comment. Thank you so much for your support!

NaNoWriMo Results: As of Sunday at 8 p.m., I had added 13,835 words to my novel, bringing it to a total of 31,075. By NaNo reckoning, which aims for 50,000 in 30 days, that's inglorious defeat.

On the other hand, it's probably 11,000 more than I'd have written if I hadn't decided to try NaNo.

I have a friend who started making (and selling) wine last year. You're supposed to make it well ahead of time, so it can age a while before you deliver it. (I'm not a wine drinker, can you tell?) Unfortunately, she got busy with her real job and fell behind in her wine-making and all of a sudden she had Christmas orders due and no wine. The good news is, there's some potion you can add to wine to hurry it along, so she was able to deliver as promised.

This is what I learned from attempting NaNo this year: there is no such potion for my fiction-writing. The stuff I already had worked out in my head I was able to commit to paper because I was spending more time at the keyboard. But the things I hadn't figured out yet didn't materialize just because my butt was in the chair.

So now my novel returns to its usual back burner, to simmer until I'm ready to add more to it.

See you around the Blogosphere!

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Question of the Day: Cezanne or Picasso?

A writing buddy of mine recently sent me an essay by Malcolm Gladwell comparing the lives of Picasso and Cezanne. (If you want to read the entire essay, click here.)

According to the author, Picasso was a prodigy -- a proficient and popular artist from an early age. His works that sell best at auction today were painted in his mid-twenties.

Cezanne, on the other hand, spent many years mastering his craft. He didn't have a natural gift for draftsmanship, and he spent a long time learning to draw, which he accomplished by painting the same subject over and over. He painted his dealer, Ambrose Vollard, 150 times before he got the result he wanted (or was willing to settle for). The paintings of his that bring the highest bids were done in his mid-sixties.

Are you a Cezanne or a Picasso?


By the way -- I won a "Post of the Week" award for Tuesday's post on One Thing I'm Thankful For, from the Comedy Goddess. If you're not a regular reader (and I suspect most of you are), go spend some time on her happy shores! She's the perfect antidote for your Black Friday blues.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Web Wednesday/My Little Town: Play

This video, shot right here in My Little Town, was filmed completely on an iPhone.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

One Thing I'm Thankful For

Last Monday I came home from work depressed and out-of-this-world grouchy. We were short on money at the clinic, and I thought we were going to have to cut back on our pharmacy purchases, which is how we supply the uninsured in Dayton with the kind of drugs you can't buy at Wal-Mart for $4.

(By the way, you know what the difference is between the statins (hypertension drugs) that retail for $4 and the ones that cost $100+? The expensive ones don’t have the side effect of causing erectile dysfunction.)

As soon as I got home, I started making sloppy joes with a solidly-frozen 3 lb. roll of ground turkey Old Dog had purchased at the grocery last week. Once I finally got it thawed, it wouldn't fit into any pan that I have, so I kept spilling stuff onto the stove, which promptly scorched, sending up clouds of burnt grease and tomato sauce stench. Every time I’d yell (and this was, minimum, a 15 cuss-word dinner prep), Old Dog would say, “What’s wrong?”

And I’d respond, “Someone bought three [expletive deleted] pounds of ground turkey and it won’t fit into the [expletive deleted] pan, [expletive deleted].”

The first time, he responded, reasonably enough, “You had two pounds on the list, and they didn’t have a two-pound roll.”

“Did it occur to you,” I snarled, “to buy two one pound rolls?”

A half hour later, when I finally had sloppy-joes-for-20 simmering in a big soup pot, he came into the computer room to check on me and I growled at him again.

It wasn’t until 7:30, when the joes (which I make with onion and green pepper and spinach, and they’re really good) were finally ready, that I sat down to watch TV with him and this is why he’s the perfect husband for me:

Because instead of continuing the fight, he just put his arm around my shoulders, smoothed my hair, and said, “Better now?”

And it was.

Monday, November 23, 2009

New Option for Saving Energy

Through a joint partnership between the United Way, the Engineering Department at a local university, and our natural gas provider, we had an energy audit done at the clinic recently.

Before I share the results, let me provide some demographics on the staff (most of whom are part-time):

1 female in her 60's
5 females in their 50's
1 female in her 40's
1 female in her 30's
2 males in their 30's

The report said we use only about 60% of the natural gas consumed annually by the average building our size.

Apparently, if you stuff enough menopausal women into one small building, you can save big on heating costs.

Friday, November 20, 2009

A Different View of Man's Best Friend

Not sure what brought this to mind, but it cracks me up, and I figured since you're all pretty twisted, you'd enjoy it, too.

Years ago, when I worked at the local community college, there was a blind student and her guide dog who HATED each other.

The girl was always yelling at the dog. Well, not really yelling, but hissing at it under her breath that it was stupid, and a screw-up.

The reason I knew their feelings were mutual was that whenever the dog would take her around a corner, he'd shave it so close that she'd slam into the wall. And when she was half-way through a door, he'd jog to the side, so that she would run into the doorframe.

So she'd hiss at the dog some more, and it would stand there and patiently take the abuse.

And then, the next time he got the chance, he'd walk her into something else.

Consider it a trade-off for Wednesday's post....

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Blog Success Story

Elizabeth Stelling, aka Chef E, author of seven (this woman is seriously demented) blogs, including TMI and Food Poetry, has been recruited by KGNU, out of Boulder, Colorado to read her poetry on their "Crops to Cuisine" show.

To hear her maiden performance, go to the KGNU schedule, and select the "Metro" listing at 3 p.m. on Monday, November 16 from the calendar. E's reading occurs about 15 minutes in.

And you wanna know what the coolest part is?

They found her through her blog!

(How great would it be if Blog Success Story became a recurring feature here?)

Congratulations, Elizabeth!

Monday, November 16, 2009

My Little Town: 17 Bumper Stickers

On the way to work the other day, I followed this pickup truck.



Most of his bumper stickers weren't memorable, but two caught my attention. The first said:

Rosie O'Donnell American
Jane Fonda Traitor
Cindy Sheehan Bitches

and I thought, Cindy Sheehan? Really? Because it seemed a little harsh to lump a woman who lost her son and wanted to understand why with a pair of celebrities who had no real skin in the game.

The second one said:

I Didn't Claw My Way to the Top of the Food Chain to Eat Vegetables

Which is actually kind of funny, but it left me wondering:

Is there any correlation between people's political beliefs and their risk of hypertension?

Friday, November 13, 2009

Fiction Friday on Hiatus: Old Joke #23

(Fiction Friday is on sabbatical until NaNoWriMo is over.)

In its place, an old joke I found lying around:

A young bride and groom are undressing on their wedding night when the bride notices that her new husband has very odd-looking knees.

"What happened?" she asks.

"I had the kneesles," he says.

"Don't you mean measles?"

"No," he said, "kneesles."

Next, he takes of his shirt and she notices he has lumps all over his torso. She again asks what happened.

"I had the lumps," he says.

"Don't you mean mumps?" she asks.

"No, the lumps."

Finally, he takes off his shorts.

"Don't tell me," she says. "Small cox?"

(Sorry, guys! Humor is a harsh mistress.)

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

My Little Town: Seen at My Local Kroger



So which is this? The "buy one" or the "free one"?

Monday, November 9, 2009

A Raisin Chronicles First: NaNoWriMo Pool

The working title of my work-in-progress is At the Seams. It is about a middle-aged woman whose life is coming apart at the aforementioned seams. Here's the first paragraph:

Looking back, I place the blame for the whole debacle squarely where it belongs: on the AARP. If they weren’t so stinking efficient, delivering their welcome to Old Fartdom precisely on my fiftieth birthday, the exact same day the nude picture of my daughter arrived in the mail, things might have turned out differently.

This is my 5th novel. From those prior efforts, I know that my normal approach is to write slowly, putting in a bunch of crap that has to be edited out later, but lets me get to know my characters really well. And to write myself down a lot of blind alleys and then throw all that away, too.

This time I was hoping to break the over-writing habit and be a little more efficient, but, prior to NaNoWriMo I'd been working on it since April, and had only about 18,000 words written. (It should wind up somewhere around 80,000.) It was pretty clear I'd fallen into my old routine.

So I signed up.

How is it going?

Today is November 9th, and, to date, I've added 4000 words. Which means I'm already 9300 words behind.

But have I given up?

No!

I'm still convinced I can make this work. I've spent the first few days reviewing my character motivation analysis. Since they drive the plot, once I get them finished, I figure I can write like the wind and still slide in with my (additional) 50,000 words written.

In the interest of keeping this blog interactive, I'm asking you, in the comments, to select a number of words that you believe I will complete this month. The closest guess will receive a $10 Target gift card.

Just in time for Christmas!

Sunday, November 8, 2009

"X" is for Xenophobia

I was on the treadmill Friday at the gym, watching the coverage of the Ft. Hood shootings on the overhead TV’s, when the woman walking beside me said something about ragheads.

I don’t know this woman well, but we’ve gone to the same gym for 7 years and I’ve always liked her.

My jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you just said that.”

“It’s not a mean thing,” she said. “It’s just a way of referring to a bunch of people from the same part of the world.”

I stared at her for a minute.

“It’s a way,” I said, “of taking diverse people from a single geographical region and painting them all with one paintbrush.”

“It’s not mean,” she said again.

“I’ve heard the same thing about ‘nigger’ and ‘faggot,’” I said. “And I don’t buy it.”

(Note: Those of you who know me only in Blogworld may be saying, "I can't believe you just said that." Those of you who know me in Liveworld won't bat an eye.)

Muslim physicians staff and fund our Thursday night adult walk-in clinic. Because of their kidduth khalq, (an Arabic phrase that translates, roughly, to “good deed”), we see over a thousand patients a year who would otherwise go without care. And those generous doctors and nurses are there to treat, not just Muslims, but anyone who shows up.

So please don’t ever say “ragheads” to me.

Even if Glen Beck says it's all right.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Fiction Friday: NaNoWriMo Angst

In an impetuous moment, much like the ones that resulted in my first two marriages, I decided to sign up for National Novel Writing Month.

For those of you who don't know what that is, and are curious/interested, check it out here.

Briefly, you sign up to write a 50,000 word novel in 30 days. Which comes to 1667 words a day.

So far, I've written about 3000 words. When means I'm about 7000 behind.

But am I giving up? No!

I'm planning a post (and a contest! with an actual prize!) on this topic on Monday.

Till then, please wing your supportive thoughts and prayers through the blogosphere in my direction.

Last Week's Winners:

The voice I was writing last week was supposed to be a 50-year-old man from Montana. Since everyone who guessed chose male and someplace rural, I figure I did pretty well.

From Berowne at Savage Reflections:

"I'd like to cash a check, but first please read this note. Now. Be careful; just do as I say and no one will be hurt. Quick, hand it over."

"Uh--the milk or the coffee?"

"Coffee... What? Let me see that note. Oh. Sorry; it's been so long since I've done this I got a bit mixed up. I meant to give you this other note. Wait a minute -- I've got it here somewhere."

"Would you like me to call my supervisor?"

"Would you? I mean, no, no, don't call anybody. We can work this out together. This is nor going as well as I had hoped. You see, I swore this would be the last time for me, but here I am at it again -- and I can't even find the right note!"

"You seem awfully nervous. Just calm down. I'm sure you have the note there somewhere."

"You're a nice person, Olga. Is it Olga?"

"Sonia."

"Oh. I couldn't make out the name tag clearly. Look at this: it's a note reminding me of my mother-in-law's birthday -- from last year!"

"Ah, here's Sergeant Noonan. Perhaps he'll be able to help you."

Character: Retired bankrobber.

Great job! There was no question in my mind which character you'd chosen.

From Booshy, at Booshy:

"I'll blow you...I mean, stick it up!...no. Wait...I know I wrote it down somewhere. Can you hold my gum...gun?"

Character: Cheerleader

This is hilarious. Even if Booshy hadn't given it away, I'd have known, and in just a few words.

From Far Gal, over at Far Side of Fifty:

Alrighty Sweetie, stay calm, I don't intend to shoot anyone, least of all a pretty young thing like you. You remind me of my Granddaughter, she is the sweetest little thing. Stuff the money in the bag, big bills please, Social Security isn't enough to get by on anymore, what with all the prescriptions my husband has to take. We practically eat cat food. Please don't take this personal, you just looked so friendly. I knew you wouldn't press that silent alarm. It will just be our little secret..Thank You..God Bless you child. :)

From Steven G:

"Hi! May I help you?" ( She's 23 )( 90 seconds)

(I'm on) "Oh yeah, Wow, I'm a huge fan of skin art. That looks like the tail feather of a bird. Please, may I see more of it?" ( 75 seconds )

"The Bank doesn't want us to show anything." ( She's watching my white teeth) (60 seconds)

"Is that a Quetzal?", I ask?

"No, it's a Crane! How can we help you today, sir?" She smiles.(45 seconds)

"Put the large bills in this bag in 15 seconds or I will fire the gun in my jacket. If you place a dye pack in this bag I will shoot the first homeless person I see and you will know it when you watch the news tonight." ( 30 seconds)

"Now wish me a good day." ( 15 seconds)

" Have a..a..good day, sir."

" Thank you miss. Take care of the Crane." (0 seconds)

Character: Doesn't appear to be any of the 4 that were assigned? I'm thinking he's a Gen Y skinhead. Enlighten us, Steven G!

This Week's Challenge:

In 100 words or less, tell us about a party where an uninvited guest shows up.

(P.S. I stole this from Darren McGarvey, proprietor of Word's Worth Writing, a writing center in Dayton. On Tuesday, I attended his monthly freebie writing class, and this is one of the prompts he gave us. He's also hosting "A Taste of Wine" next Tuesday, November 10, from 6:30 to 8:30 p.m. at 90 S. Main Street in Miamisburg. Over the course of the evening, participants will eat, drink and respond to prompts (apparently the responses accelerate as the wind kicks in). Cost is $30. (Does this seem like a fair trade-off for swiping his prompt?))

Monday, November 2, 2009

Funeral for a Friend: Part 2

A number of years ago, my father-in-law passed away, and was buried in the cemetery I re-visited last week.

This cemetery is located on a steep hillside. From the top, you can see miles of Midwestern farmland, housing developments and industrial parks.

On that day, the motorcycle cop who accompanied the funeral procession to the graveyard somehow managed to run his bike over the edge, tumbling down a 65 degree incline. We thought he'd killed himself, but he was okay.

My ex's cousin, a pastor back in the day, and very religious, reminded me of this event while we were standing around on Thursday, waiting for the second set of keys to arrive.

"I still can't figure out how he did that," I said, staring down the hill.

"Because he was a dumbass," said Ray.

I laughed so hard I snorted, mostly because it reminded me of my ex (who has since passed away, too). His sardonic take on mankind was always hilarious.

Funerals truly are a time for reconnecting with dead loved ones.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Funeral for a Friend: Old Joke #22

On Thursday, I attended the funeral of my first husband's mother. She was a kind and generous woman and she'll be missed.

She was also from West Virginia, and as country as using corncobs for toilet paper.

When the procession arrived at the cemetery, we all got out of our cars and ambled toward the grave-site, only to discover that the driver of the hearse had somehow locked the keys -- along with the casket -- inside.

And as we were standing around, waiting for another set of keys to arrive, I tried to stifle the little voice in my head that kept retelling me this joke:

Did you hear about the briar who locked his keys inside his car?

Took him three days to get his family out.

Bon voyage, belle mere. Say "hi" to Geno, and Guy and Bobby for me.

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