Thursday, February 28, 2013
For my writer friends, click to view many opportunities for possible publication. http://www.newpages.com/classifieds/calls/
Quote of the day by Nicole (5) "When I grow up I'm going to be a flower princess and I'll give you one of the flowers out of my hair and you can be a rock star."
Oh, if wishing made dreams come true.
Monday, February 25, 2013
I have three students for whom English is their second language. It is difficult to teach them spatial concepts. I have cards with a basketball in many positions: a basketball in the box, on the table, above/below the shelf, between a pair of tennis shoes, etc.
I held up a card and asked a little boy, "Where is the basketball?"
He answered, "It's right there!"
"Yes, but WHERE is the basketball, in the box or on the shelf? WHERE?"
He looked at me like I'm crazy. "I told you WHERE. There!"
I placed his hands in his lap, and said, "Now, tell me with your words where the ball is."
"Okay-okay, it's still THERE." He smiled. I rubbed my temples.
I went over the cards and positions with him several times. He acquired some of the meanings. I sent the paper home with him. But I wanted to make it a concrete activity for him for better understanding, so at dismissal when his mom came, I picked up a book and placed it under a chair in the hall and said to him, "See, it is UNDER."
He laughed out loud and said, "No-no-no, that is not a basketball."
I came home and took an aspirin.
Spring break is a few weeks away.
Make sure you are concise when you are conveying a message in your writing.
Sunday, February 24, 2013
trying to get from one side of a suspended swinging rope bridge to the other side.
Leaving childhood, holding the rickety railing of youth, stretching for a grasp on adulthood.
Propped up on the safe stuffed tiger of childhood. Sometimes subdued, often surly, he vacillates between playful growling, ornery snarling and marking his own territory.
Linked to his lap top, detached from family, obsessed with sports and texting. Like a litter mate testing his limits, trying to be alpha dog, discarding old ways...and then, his girlfriend presents him with a present. He props that cute, stuffed puppy on his pillow and cuddles with his hopes and dreams.
Happy birthday to my grandson who was born almost two months premature and has grown into a strapping, muscular hunk. You should see his biceps. I am proud of this young man!
Friday, February 22, 2013
This book, created by Dahlynn McKowen and Terri Elders will make you laugh, and sigh with satisfaction. You'll want to spread your sails, hop on a plane, train or in an automobile and make your own travel memories. This anthology will be released on March 26, 2013.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
I am thrilled and a bit nervous. I am hoping my voice doesn't crack, my pants don't split, and I don't trip. Whether or not I make the cut, I am happy to have had my story considered.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
I loved her book, Fried Green Tomatoes and I have read most of her novels. I like her folksy writing style. I recently bought her novel, Standing in the Rainbow (2002). I read the opening: set in 1940's to present day in Elmwood, Missouri. My era, my home state, and my kind of writing. I invested part of my day off in leisure reading.
I was hanging on every word, falling in love with the characters, and then Fannie did me wrong. She set the scene in a fishing cabin; the 1945 calendar turned to a pin up girl wearing short-shorts, fly fishing. Fannie had me hook, line and sinker.
Then, she changed the scene and took the characters, a young boy and his dad, to St. Louis to watch the World Series between the St. Louis Browns and St. Louis Cardinals. Little Bobby rode a Yellow Cab to the huge Rexall Drugstore downtown, and he rode the North Grand streetcar to Sportsman's Park and had a great time in the big city. He even had his picture taken under the big steel Gateway Arch.
What?! Was this a Candid Camera moment? Gotchya? She didn't get me. The Gateway Arch was not built until the 1960s and I watched the last top section (that didn't fit) being hoisted into place from my high school window.
This is a major detail for folks from the Show Me state, not a minor little thing I can overlook. Oh my, Fannie. It is too late to correct. Your royalites are still rolling in, and I am happy for you, but I am upset with you. Nonetheless, I will read the book, but it now feels like there's a chicken feather lodged under my collar.
Readers, do YOU know what I mean?
Monday, February 18, 2013
Haircuts, love them or hate them. I am way overdue. This long, thick, straight,
won't-hold-curl-for-even-an-hour hair is dragging me down. But I am trying really hard to wait it out. I'm not a pony tail kind of gal. My ears look like wing nuts. I can't push the hair off my forehead; it exposes this little mole that is a weirdo magnet. I don't need it prominently exposed attracting all kinds of nuts and bolts. So, I will live with this devil-may-care (alright, bag lady) look for two more weeks. Then I shall have my locks lifted and shaped into a new do.
This reminds me of something that happened years ago when hubby was still working night shift. His daughter stopped by with the young grandchildren one afternoon. "Grandpa!" they shouted as he sat down between them on the couch wrapped in his robe. His curly hair was wild, like Albert Einstein's frizz. The kids asked why. I told them Grandpa had just woke up and hadn't had a shower yet.
"What does that have to do with his hair?"
"Water makes his hair shrink back to its naturally curly shape."
Little Georgie, the scientist and little Morgan, the kindergartener leaned behind Grandpa's back and conspired. They left the room together and came back together. They sat down beside Grandpa. I caught them just as they were lifting their water filled glasses atop his head.
"Stop! What are you doing?" I shouted.
"Science. We want to see Grandpa's hair shrink."
I shudder to think...
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Now that Valentine's Day is over I can tell you the truth. My hubby and I are calling it quits.
Sometimes it's nobody's fault. It just doesn't fit. You try and try to make it work even when you know it won't. Yet, you hang on, like a pair of shoes that constrict your bunion, rub a blister on your heel, pinch your toes. You live in denial, ignore the pain as long as possible, talk yourself out of it or into it, and keep them around for show or perhaps a brief traipse. Then, every time you endure the aggravation you wonder, What was I thinking?
There comes a time when you realize it's time to toss out that which does not work, hampers and harms, causes pain and agony. When you can pretend no longer, you must face reality and do something about it.
The opposite of having a poor fit, is finding a fit that becomes so comfortable you simply wear out a good thing. Being taken for granted can feel like abuse. Like that perfect pair of shoes you become attached to, you hang on too long, wear out the soles, snap the threads until they no longer support you.
By the way,I've been noticing a lot of shoes laying on the sides of the highway in all sizes, shapes and kinds. They are never in pairs. In one day I've seen a sling slung out a window, a kid's tennis shoe on the run, a Nike just doing it, a man's gargantuan brogand sitting upright filling with rain, a flip no longer flopping and a cute, embellished Mary Jane in my size that I'd have stopped for if it had had a mate.
Now, if this footwear frenzy were on the same highway, I'd surmise that someone in transit lost the lid to their large Rubbermaid shoe container from the back of a pickup truck. But no, these shoes are all over the place. A baby shoe, well you can figure the kid pitched it out while having a high-pitched fit. A woman's spike heel...perhaps a night on the town, or a get-away that should be forgotten. I wish I had the back story for all of this footwear. I don't have an explanation. I just know that someone, somewhere is going to realize they have one shoe and will have to call it quits.
Back toBill and me, we've been so comfortable together, like a pair of old shoes splitting our seams. We've come to a mutual decision. Someone has to decide to say ENOUGH! So...
the chocolate covered pretzel chips have to go. I've got to stop unwrapping Dove chocolate squares, you know, to read the inspirational messages. The box of Russell Stover's from my students...once
we remove all of the nuts and chews... oh, and the buffets, even coupons for free ones... well, hubby and I have decided if we want to stay together we'll have to call it quits.
Note to writers: simile, analogy and metaphor are fun to play with. Do you use these techniques in your writing?
Seriously, what do you think is up with all of the shoes laying around town? Have you noticed them, too?
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
That baby doctor couldn't have been 35 years old. He looked more like twenty-five. I'm telling you he was a baby. And a doctor. A surgeon, a plastic surgeon. He removed hubby's benign cyst with a flick of the wrist. With another flick, he looked at me and said, "If you want to take care of that (he patted his jaw and pointed to mine) I do that, too. Set up a consultation with my nurse."
That little baby faced doc can stick to cysts, he's not tugging my wrinkles.
Be careful, my writer friends. Playing with words can be fun, but you don't want to alienate or tick off your reader.
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
She's mine all mine. I've had her for over half a century. My dad used to be a "junk man" in the 1950s. He'd sell scrap metal and haul items for his regular customers. One of them gave him this doll for me. I may have been five or six. She used to have leather boots on but I remember peeling them off.
When I was eight, an out of town aunt came to visit and fell in love with her. She begged me for her. This doll hung on her wall for probably twenty years. Theres a nail hole in the back of the blanket. I was visiting her one day in her town and she gave it back to me. I have had my Indian doll tucked away for years. She has a cellulose face, and she wears a dress under the blanket. I did some research and discovered the historical significance of the Skookum "Bully Good" dolls.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
Saturday, February 2, 2013
I do write poetry, but I prefer writing personal essays. I have a wonderful husband who supports my writing efforts, accompanies me to writer events and open mic nights. But I have never considered him a writer, much less a poet, until I found this waiting for me on the computer. You think he's trying to tell me something?
On a partially cloudy morn
the world rotates, and (from the bed)
in the East I can see
the glow of ---
the computer screen.
and ends with email.
~your ever loving husband
Hey at least there's a glow in his eye.