Thursday, December 31, 2009

Old Joke #25

A very old man lay dying in his bed. In death's doorway, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favorite chocolate chip cookie wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort forced himself down the stairs, gripping the railing with both hands. With labored breath, he leaned against the door frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven. There, spread out on newspapers on the kitchen table, were literally hundreds of his favorite chocolate chip cookies. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted wife, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself toward the table. The aged and withered hand, shaking, made its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when he was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife. "Stay out of those," she said. "They're for the funeral.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Web Wednesday: Dirty Deeds Done With Sheep



Okay, this totally cracks me up -- almost as much as learning ( from my friend who sells "adult novelties" on the party plan) that sex toy warehouses stock blow-up sheep.

(I originally planned a series of posts on stories she'd told me, but the silence was deafening when I did that first post, so I decided to keep those particular funnies to myself.)

Monday, December 28, 2009

They're Not Resolutions, They're Goals

Every December, as the year winds down, I make a list of goals for the next year. These are not "resolutions," made with champagne-fueled hopes, fated to be abandoned before the empty bottles are hauled away.

They are, instead, a list of objectives that move my life along my chosen trajectory. And if I don't attain them, well, any progress in the right direction is still forward motion.

As Dwight D. Eisenhower said, "Plans are useless, but planning is essential."

This year, the list is broken down into the following categories:

Health and Fitness
Relationships
Culture and Education
Blog
This Old House
Fiction Writing

For example, here are my blog goals:

1) Continue to post Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
2) Add “My Little Town Tuesday” as a feature at least once per month.
3) Include a picture with every post.
4) Continue to visit your blog friends at least once a week.
5) Visit at least 2 new blogs per week.

As you can infer, my goals are SMART - Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic and Time-bound, just like they teach you in Management school.

There used to be a category called "Professional," but that seems to be something I don't care much about anymore. I like my job, and I'm happy to be employed, but I have no particular goals in that direction. Which is kind of interesting, because for years that category topped the list.

In the midst of all this planning, I talked to my two older sisters, who told me about a conversation they had with one of my nephews, whom we'll call "C."

C is a big fan of Fox News, and a strong believer in free markets and self-reliance, which, given that he's a reasonably well-educated white guy in his thirties, works pretty well for him.

Apparently, during this conversation, my name came up as someone who could have been much wealthier, had I made better decisions in my life.

When my sisters relayed this to me, I was startled. "Who ever said that was a goal in my life?"

Oh, they said, C assumes that's the primary goal in everyone's life.

Well, he's wrong.

And I've got the documentation to prove it.

Friday, December 25, 2009

A Raisin Christmas: He Ain't Heavy


Merry Christmas, everyone!

I'd intended to do my normal Fiction Friday post, but the batteries in my mouse died and I used all the AA's loading up a Pegasus, a pelican, a laughing Ernie and a pair of race cars yesterday, so the copying and pasting required for Fiction Friday is out of the question.

Instead, I'm going to talk about my brother, Lynnie.

My parents waited 10 years for a son. They had 4 daughters, but Dad longed for a boy he could take fishing and teach to play ball. Finally, in September, 1955, William Lynn was born. But their joy turned to grief over the next few months as they realized the son they'd longed for suffered from the double whammy of Cerebral Palsy and severe mental retardation. Not nearly as much was known about CP then, and they spent the next few years, and God knows how much money, seeking a cure.

Today, although Lynnie inhabits the body of a 54-year-old man, he has the IQ of an 18-month-old child.

He lives in the Stillwater Center, a facility on the north side of town. After my father passed away a few years back, my 4 sisters and my brother and I, after farming him around from house to house for a few months, made the hard decision to place Lynnie at Stillwater, where the trained staff would know how to handle the increasing number of physical issues he faces.

Having to institutionalize him, after successfully keeping him home for so many years, left us all sick with guilt.

Our worries came to nothing, because from the moment Lynnie moved into Stillwater, he loved it. He's very extroverted, and being in a place where people are paid to cater to him is his idea of heaven. We bring him home for day-long, and occasionally overnight visits, and we we take him back, he cheers when we reach the parking lot.

It was interesting yesterday, watching my grandkids interact with him. A couple of the youngest, Lily and Danielle, are pretty timid to begin with, so it was amazing to me that both of them seemed almost instantly to realize they had nothing to fear from this big, strange man.

Now if I could just get him to share his toys....

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Web Wednesday: Carol of the Bells



This is one of my very favorite Christmas carols -- possibly because it captures the 100-miles-an-hour stress-fest that we've made of this holiday!

Monday, December 21, 2009

A Tale of Two Cities - Revisited


(I originally posted this last January. Last week, my step-daughter called to say she had my tickets for this year's outing. I'm won't let them ditch me this year.)

We arrive at the zoo on Saturday for the big Festival of Lights and I call my step-daughter to arrange a rendezvous.

“As soon as we find a bathroom for Kylie,” I say, “we’ll meet you at the Elephant House.

Shay tells me where the bathroom is (to the right of the entrance and down the hill) and, using these very misleading directions, we eventually find a toilet.

Potty break dealt with, we climb back up the hill to the Asian rotunda that has always housed the elephants. No sign of Shay. I call her again.

“Where are you?” she says.

"I’m standing next to the Elephant House, across from the new Forest exhibit."

“What Forest exhibit?” she says. “We’re right outside the Asian Experience.”

It can’t just be the Elephant House anymore, no, now it has to be the "Asian Experience."

“I’m standing next to the wooden polar bear cutout, with the signs pointing to Santa’s Holiday Village and the North Pole Post Office,” I say.

“Stay where you are,” she says. “I’ll send Jeff to find you.”

So I wait. And I wait. In the meantime, Bill and Kylie make a circuit around the Elephant House. (Four-year-olds are lousy at waiting and fifty-four year olds aren’t much better.)

Ten minutes later, Shay calls back.

“Where are you?” she asks again. “Can you see the North American Habitat?”

“I’m right by the entrance,” I say. “You know, big sign, PNC Bank Festival of Lights.”

“PNC Bank? American Electric is sponsoring this.”

“Not in Cincinnati.”

“Well, they are in Columbus.”

I pause a moment while that sinks in.

“We’re going to stop looking for you now,” I say. “Enjoy yourselves.”

All night long, Old Dog made Kylie hold my hand “so Grandma won’t get lost.”

I still say we would have been fine if we’d just made it to the right city.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Fiction Friday: On Receiving Feedback

For the past two Fridays, I've pontificated about how to give useful feedback to fellow writers. Today I thought we'd look at that transaction from the other end.

Some guidelines for soliciting and receiving feedback:

1) If you think what you've written is perfect, don't bother to ask for input. What's the purpose?

2) Conversely, don't hand off the baby while it's still dripping with amniotic fluid. Clean it up to the best of your ability before you ask anyone else to cuddle it. After all, only a mother (or father) could love what first comes out.

3) Know the capabilities of the writer you're asking for feedback. Is he familiar with your genre? Is his work at a comparable level (or better) than your own? Your best bet is to find a writer who knows and likes your genre, and whose work you enjoy and secretly (or not-so-secretly) believe to be better than your own, and get his opinion.

4) If you want specific kinds of feedback (help with grammar/mechanics, ideas for resolving a plot issue, feedback on whether a certain bit seems credible) ask for it. If you don't want specific kinds of feedback (for example, there's no real value in getting a line edit on a first draft), let your reviewer know that, too.

5) Don't argue with your reviewer. (Confession: I may have been known to do this once or twice.) Take her input, say thank you with all sincerity, and head to your cave to mull it over. If she says Character A seemed inconsistent and you can't see it, it's okay to ask for specific examples. Once you get them, though, you're back to smiling brightly and heading for your writing cave again. No trying to explain away the flaws. It doesn't matter if it's right in your head -- it has to be right on the page.

Last Week's Winners

Purest Green: As promising as a Saint Patrick's parade in Ibrox stadium. (Had to Google Ibrox stadium, but once I did, this is a great one.)

Doggybloggy: As promising as a lottery ticket. (I liked this one, because 99.999% of lottery tickets are false promises, and we know that, but we continue to buy them.)

Anymommy: As promising as getting twelve hours of sleep with a six month old baby... (This one made we want to hop on a West coast flight and do baby-duty so our new mom could get a good night's sleep. After all, I'm awake anyway.)

Chef E: As promising as a blind chef with no taste buds... This one made me think of the movie Eat, Drink, Man, Woman, about the world famous Chinese chef who loses his sense of smell.

Next Week's Prompt:

The best Christmas present I never got was....

Thursday, December 17, 2009

Old Joke #24

A young couple decides to join a new church that has strict requirements for membership. Before they can become members, they have to agree to abstain from sex for 30 days. It's a long 30 days (did I mention that they're young?), but they're doing pretty well up until the last weekend. That Friday night, the wife drops a jar of peanut butter, the husband sees her bending over and it's all up with him. The next week, they meet with the minister to explain what happened. "I understand," the minister says sympathetically, "but I'm afraid you won't be able to join our church now." "That's okay," says the husband. "They won't let us back into the supermarket, either."

Monday, December 14, 2009

Slip Sliding Away

Last Monday, my daughter-out-law's brother was stacking wood outside his home in Amherst, Massachusetts, in preparation for the big storm coming their way. The portable basketball hoop was in the way and as he tried to shift it, it toppled over. The backboard smashed into his face, breaking every bone except his lower jaw.

He got to the garage, where he'd left his cell phone, and called 911. Then, with great presence of mind, he staggered across the driveway and planted his broken face in a snowbank until help arrived.

Since he never lost consciousness, the hospital didn't admit him. Instead, the next day, his wife took him to a surgeon, one of two in the Boston area who specialize in facial reconstruction. They discussed various options, including removing his face, rebuilding the bones, and then stitching it back on. No biggie, said the doc. By February, no one will know there was ever anything wrong.

They set a surgery date for Friday.

This surgery was to be done on an overnight outpatient basis. Under this plan, following the 7-hour procedure, he would stay overnight to be released early the morning, with less than 24-hours of hospital stay.

At the time of surgery, the doctors decided to leave his facial skin in place and do all their work through his mouth. At some point during the surgery, they had to intubate him. He came through the surgery fine, but, due to the tube, was placed in intensive care and didn't go home.

He was doing fine, he was conscious, talking, he was fine, and then, early Sunday morning, following a pain shot, he stopped breathing. And, shortly after, stopped being a resident of this dimension.

He was 42 years old. He leaves a wife, two children, a mother, a father and three sisters. He was to have been my grandkid's guardian, should anything happen to Phinn and Harper's moms.

He leaves a man-sized hole in the universe, and one far larger in the hearts and lives of those around him.

God only knows, God makes his plan
The information's unavailable to the mortal man
We're working our jobs, collect our pay
Believe we're gliding down the highway
When in fact we're slip slidin' away.


Friday, December 11, 2009

Fiction Friday: More on Feedback

I've had some interesting offline conversations over the past week on the topic of feedback. One of the chief discussion points seems to be how best to make your feedback useful to the artist. Here are my thoughts: 1) Don't offer feedback unless it's requested. 2) Conversely, if you hand someone a piece you've written, and say, "What do you think?" that constitutes a request for feedback. 3) Try to offer your input at the level, or a single notch beyond, where the writer is at the time the feedback is requested. For example, if you get something from a very beginning writer, where there are very basic issues with grammar and structure, it's probably not useful to discuss things like mood and foreshadowing. Those are topics for more advanced writers, who have mastered the mechanics. 4) Maintain the self-esteem of the writer. (True of any sort of feedback, I think this is especially important where artists are concerned.) Undercutting the self-image of others doesn't help them. Try to be honest, but without cruelty. 5) Conversely, if all you want is praise for your writing, send it to your mom. It's her job to build you up and tell you you're great. The job of other writers is to help you grow and improve, and hearing only how wonderful your work is won't get you there. You may be wondering, "Who died and made Jeanne Queen of Feedback?" Actually, I took a class in this. More than that: my writers' group commissioned an English professor at a local college to develop and teach a six-week course in giving worthwhile feedback. His name is Ed Davis and he recently started a blog, which you can visit here. Anyway, for six weeks we read short stories and critiqued them, learning from him, from each other and from the process. He provided much of the structure I wrote about last week, and the drill of doing it for six weeks really helped me to understand feedback, and to learn a lot about the craft of fiction. Last Week's Winners: I got a lot of good comments last week, but if I were to pick two that really stood out, they'd be Rachel Cotterill and Chef E. Next Week's Prompt: NPR did a story recently on a raw foods restaurant that just opened in Oklahoma City. They opened the piece by saying that opening such a restaurant in the heart of cattle country was "as promising as opening a Kosher deli in Tehran." They got a lot of flack for that, and people wrote in to suggest other metaphors: "as promising as opening a no smoking section in Paris; a Hooters in Vatican City; a Best Buy in an Amish town; and - ouch - a trophy case in Wrigley Field." So here's this week's challenge: Create a metaphor that starts "As promising as..." but describes something doomed to failure.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Web Wednesday: Respect, Dignity and Something Resembling Compassion



If this seems over-the-top, consider that Rhode Island Governor Carcieri just vetoed a domestic partners burial bill, saying, "This bill represents a disturbing trend over the past few years of the incremental erosion of the principles surrounding traditional marriage."

The bill was inspired by the plight of Mark Goldberg of Connecticut, who waited 4 weeks for the body of his partner of 17 years, Ron Hanby, to be released to him for cremation. After a two week search for concerned family members (there were none), he waited an additional two weeks for the Department of Human Services to get around to releasing the body. Then, the Connecticut cremation society refused to cremate Hanby (because Goldberg had no legal standing to request the action). Finally, with the help of the Massachusetts cremation society, Goldberg was able lay his loved one to rest.

Can you imagine losing your life partner, and then not even being allowed to bury them?

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

My Little Town Tuesday: Couch Potato(es)




Followed this guy out of the flea market the other day. I think the picture says it all.

Monday, December 7, 2009

A Gift? For Me?

Sandra Leigh, over at The Amazing Voyages of the Turtle, gave me this award:

I wonder if that's her way of telling me she's a Picasso?

Anyway, along with this award came a meme, 7 Things You Don't Know About Me. If you've been reading the Chronicles for any time at all, I can't imagine there's anything you don't know about me.

So, instead I'm going to share 7 Things That Are Hard To Do.

1) Throwing away dental floss -- If you don't believe me, check behind your bathroom trashcan.

2) Breaking up (duh) -- But seriously, folks, if you know anyone who's going through a breakup, especially as the holidays approach, dig deep into your Santa's bag of compassion and be there for them. Getting divorced, and anything that looks or feels like it, sucks.

3) Folding fitted sheets -- How do they get them into the package so neatly? They are NEVER that way again.

4) Rolling up garden hose -- unless you buy the easy-to-roll-but-doesn't-spray-worth-a-shit kind.

5) Figuring out, from a paint chip, what an entire room will look like after it's painted. Equally hard: spending Thanksgiving weekend priming and painting, only to discover you've brushed and rolled yourself the Red Room from the Amityville Horror. (Seriously -- the dog won't sleep in our bedroom anymore.)

6) Putting on pantyhose -- I hadn't worn pantyhose for a couple of years, until recently. Last week I donned a pair for a luncheon celebrating the fact that my clinic was selected to be the recipient of the parking meter money at The Greene, our local all-weather mall, in January and February, 2010. (Yay!) It took me three tries to finally get the feet positioned so that I didn't wind up with a tourniquet spiraling around the top of my right thigh.

7) Finding notes from the people you actually know on Facebook, amid all crap from the people who asked to be your "friend" and you accepted, figuring, "Sure, what the hell," only to discover that these people have no life, and spend their days doing things with farm animals and filling your inbox with requests for vitual hugs (actually, no), trying to give you goats (absolutely not) and asking you to support their pet causes (maybe, depends on the cause).

Now to pass along this lovely award. I'm choosing (mostly) new bloggy friends whom I'd like to pump for more information.

1) Skyler's Dad from Some Days It's Just Not Worth Chewing Through the Leather Straps -- I just love this guy. He's so caring and gentle with his son, but such a GUY despite that. He proves to me that a man can be both nurturing and straight.

2) Corey James aka the Mad Texter - who's "quick-witted, loyal, the consummate diplomat," (his description) occasionally bitchy, and ALWAYS funny (MY description). Go see him. Seriously.

3) TattyTiara -- of AAA1 Quality Blog, Ltd. -- excellent writer and funny lady.

4) Berowne -- from Savage Reflections -- Film-maker, college prof, Shakespeare groupie -- M'sieu Savage fascinates me.

5) Jane!, from Emptying the Nest, who uses her blog as a way to release her angst, thus avoiding mass homicide, which I think shows excellent judgment on her part.

6) Mr. Knucklehead (at, this is tricky, Knucklehead) - a funny, funny guy.

7) CatLadyLarew at How to Become a Cat Lady...Without the Cats -- which, since I'm pretty allergic to cats, seems like a worthwhile thing to know.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Fiction Friday: On Feedback

A writer-friend thrusts a sheaf of papers at you and says gruffly, "I wrote this. What do you think?"

Helpful feedback is less about what you, the reader, like or dislike than it is about helping the writer determine what works or doesn't work. There are nearly 7 billion or so people on this planet, each with his own likes and dislikes, and the fact that you don't care for a piece of fiction is not a good indicator that it's crap. That's just your personal taste.

What is more helpful is providing feedback on:

1) Characters: believable? interesting? consistent? Does it feel like the author likes them (even the mean ones)?
2) Dialogue: realistic? Does each character have his own voice, so you can tell who's talking, even without dialogue tags?
3) Structure: is the plot believable? does it hinge on the actions of the characters, or the whims of fate (aka deus ex machina -- which was perfectly acceptable in the days of Greek tragedy, but today is considered to be really cheeseball)
4) Voice: Does it match the piece? (You don't tell the story of starving sharecroppers in Alabama with the voice of an English butler (generally). Is the voice consistent, or does it slide in and out of other voices? Is it too intrusive?
5) Language: how well do the metaphors work? Do they fit seamlessly into the narrative, or feel like they were shoe-horned in because the author thought they were cool?
6) Narrative, action and dialogue: are they balanced, or does the work lean too heavily on one or another?

Last Week's (Month's) Winners:

Steven G (who has no blog, despite recurring requests) and Berowne at Savage Reflections

This Week's Prompt:


Actually, what I'd really like is some guidelines, similar to those listed above, for poetry. When someone asks you to provide feedback on their poetry, what do you look for?

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Web Wednesday: Lost Generation

This was the grand prize winner in the AARP U @ 50 video challenge.

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