Check out this trailer for a fascinating new book.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9BUXnHmNZY
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
It has been a long time since I posted here. I had let it fade away because 1) I had nothing of interest going on with my writing and 2) no one was commenting so I reckoned no one was bothering to read what I was writing.
However, I've taken on a challenge of sorts, suggested by Jennifer Blanchard of Procrastinating Writers (http://procrastinatingwritersblog.com/). The challenge is "30 Days to a Better Writer" and involves writing every day for 30 days - including writing to your blog at least 2-3 times a week and writing down at least two story/scene ideas per day.
So here I am at my blog again.
I still have nothing much of interest going on with my writing. I doubt there will be a rush of comments, especially since I doubt anyone is checking here any longer, but, I will be posting that 2-3 times for at least the next few weeks.
I hope I will bring something of interest to you as I do this challenge that will, hopefully, help me become a better writer.
Joyfully,
Sandra
However, I've taken on a challenge of sorts, suggested by Jennifer Blanchard of Procrastinating Writers (http://procrastinatingwritersblog.com/). The challenge is "30 Days to a Better Writer" and involves writing every day for 30 days - including writing to your blog at least 2-3 times a week and writing down at least two story/scene ideas per day.
So here I am at my blog again.
I still have nothing much of interest going on with my writing. I doubt there will be a rush of comments, especially since I doubt anyone is checking here any longer, but, I will be posting that 2-3 times for at least the next few weeks.
I hope I will bring something of interest to you as I do this challenge that will, hopefully, help me become a better writer.
Joyfully,
Sandra
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
A news blip on my "Odd News from AP" widget caught my eye this morning.
"Australian cat strays 2,400 miles, returns home."
Clyde the cat went home to his original owners after three years of wandering about. One of the most interesting points of the story is that Clyde started out on Tasmania, which is an island in the ocean off Australia's south east coast. He ended up in Cloncurry a city two thousand miles into the Australian outback. If he hadn't been micro-chipped he would still be a wanderer.
As his happy owner said, "If only he could talk."
What is it about such stories that fascinate us? We are thrilled with the tale of a lost person or animal finding their way home.
Perhaps it is because we all feel a bit lost sometimes. We move around so much more than people used to because travelling is easier, so home is left far behind. It calls to us with its knowledge of our beginnings; sometimes making us long to return or sometimes causing us to keep moving further away.
Or maybe, as was popular in the 1960s and 70s, we feel we have lost ourselves. That need to find their "true self" caused many people to leave home and family, even walking out on their spouse and children, to go "find themselves". All too often the results were like Dorothy's: the realization that they hadn't lost themselves to begin with and there was no place like home. They had only become bored with who they were and what they were doing.
The stories of those who have truly been lost, stray animals or homeless people, finding their place in the world can help us see how good we have it. We get the chance to see our home, family, job or community through new eyes when we realize we could lose it all.
So, thank you Clyde. Thank you to all those who once were lost but now are found and whose stories give us hope.
See a video about Clyde here:
"Australian cat strays 2,400 miles, returns home."
Clyde the cat went home to his original owners after three years of wandering about. One of the most interesting points of the story is that Clyde started out on Tasmania, which is an island in the ocean off Australia's south east coast. He ended up in Cloncurry a city two thousand miles into the Australian outback. If he hadn't been micro-chipped he would still be a wanderer.
As his happy owner said, "If only he could talk."
What is it about such stories that fascinate us? We are thrilled with the tale of a lost person or animal finding their way home.
Perhaps it is because we all feel a bit lost sometimes. We move around so much more than people used to because travelling is easier, so home is left far behind. It calls to us with its knowledge of our beginnings; sometimes making us long to return or sometimes causing us to keep moving further away.
Or maybe, as was popular in the 1960s and 70s, we feel we have lost ourselves. That need to find their "true self" caused many people to leave home and family, even walking out on their spouse and children, to go "find themselves". All too often the results were like Dorothy's: the realization that they hadn't lost themselves to begin with and there was no place like home. They had only become bored with who they were and what they were doing.
The stories of those who have truly been lost, stray animals or homeless people, finding their place in the world can help us see how good we have it. We get the chance to see our home, family, job or community through new eyes when we realize we could lose it all.
So, thank you Clyde. Thank you to all those who once were lost but now are found and whose stories give us hope.
See a video about Clyde here:
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A Foggy Morning in Kickapoo Park
I love walking in the fog.
I go for a walk a few days a week in a local park and the fog changes so much. Part of the walk leads through open areas where the mists swirl and occasionally the sun can be seen looking like a white dinner plate in the sky with no glow of its own. The distant tree lines could be mountains as all that is there are dark masses.
Then the road enters a dimly lit tunnel of trees. Spider webs dusted with moisture festoon the oaks and white pines. Osage orange trees look ready to pounce on spindly legs, like the giant parents of the lesser spiders. The fog is no longer comforting and relaxing, but menacing, hiding unknown threats.
I round another curve and the air is lighter, the light brighter as the trees give way to another open field. And so my walk goes, forest and field, welcoming mist and foreboding gloom, until I'm back at my cozy little car, my hair curly from the dampness of my foggy day stroll.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Goldie on our deck
There's a piece of earth-shattering news.
Last week ended up an emotional disaster and I barely managed any writing because of it.
This week will be better.
I have my cat, Goldie, out with me. She's wearing a halter and is hooked to a leash tied to a leg of the patio table. Goldie has wander lust. She used to go out everyday until five years ago, when she took to adventuring too far from home; that being out of our yard. A stray to begin with, money has been invested in shots and spaying so I had no desire to find her dead on the pavement . . . or not find her at all.
Investment aside, I love the little pest.
Goldie and I found each other the last weekend in August, 2000. I was walking home from the art in the park part of my town's hot air balloon fest when I set my bags down to take a breather. From a pile of dead brush behind the redi-mix office I heard a tiny, high-pitched mew.
"That's a kitten's mew," I said to myself, then mewed back.
A small orange streak shot out of the brush pile, stopped at my feet and then tried to climb my left leg; mewing non-stop the whole time. I picked the kitten up, held it to my shoulder and it snuggled up tight. After a little cuddle time, I held it out to check its "equipment". The little orange tabby was a female.
"Ah!" I told her, holding her up to look into her eyes. "You're an unusual orange tabby. Only 20% of orange tabbies are girl kitties. Did you know that? You're not rare. It doesn't make you worth a lot of money. Just unusual. How would you like to come home with me?"
She was purring and struggling to get back to my shoulder. I took that for a yes. I gathered up my bags and off we went. I asked a couple of boys, who were playing on the sidewalk a block down, if they knew who owned the kitten. They said they had taken her around the neighborhood the day before and no one had claimed her. The kitten snuggled deeper and started to knead my neck.
Not sure what my husband would say to keeping her (we already had three cats although, technically, one was our daughter's) I sat with her on our deck while she guzzled the food and water I brought out to her. There was a Christian Contemporary Music group around at the time named PFR (it stood for "Pray For Rain"). On one of their CDs they had a song, "Goldie's Last Day". The song was about a golden Labrador retriever who has passed away, but I found myself singing the chorus with the words adjusted to fit my situation. The changes are in brackets:
"Goldie's last [first] day. Goldie's last [first] day.
If a picture paints a thousand words,
There's nothing left to say.
Wish I could've been there for Goldie's last [first] day."
The kitten jumped up into my lap.
"Are you Goldie?" I asked as she climbed up to my shoulder and started kneading my neck again.
I took that as a yes.
Monday, August 17, 2009
He walks by my house, slow and a bit unsteady, using his cane but out walking nonetheless. I'm only five foot one; Ed is shorter than me and thinner, grey hair sticks out from under his farmer's style hat. He smiles as he tells me that when he joined the army right after high school the sergeant couldn't believe he only weighed one hundred twelve pounds. He is a small man. He is an amazing eighty-five year old man.
I knew he had a couple of heart attacks and a stroke a few years back. Ed didn't let those stop him. Three days after the stroke his wife spotted him shuffling down the hospital corridor. He didn't let it keep him down.
Two weeks ago I learned Ed had had another stroke. This morning I talked to him, stopping him as he drew abreast of my house on his morning walk. We talked about the stroke. We talked about his life. He has lived on the same street in our town almost his entire life. He said he's happy with the life he's lived; proud of things he's accomplished.
He told me something that I think is a big factor in Ed's long life and his recovery from his strokes.
"I see nothing but good coming our way. I try to find the best in everything."
I think I'll chisel that into the walls of my house or paint it as a mural in every room.
Ed was a farm kid during the depression. He was in the army in World War II. He knows hard times. Ed works hard and doesn't quit.
"I see nothing but good coming out way. I try to find the best in everything."
I'm going to start thinking like Ed does.
I knew he had a couple of heart attacks and a stroke a few years back. Ed didn't let those stop him. Three days after the stroke his wife spotted him shuffling down the hospital corridor. He didn't let it keep him down.
Two weeks ago I learned Ed had had another stroke. This morning I talked to him, stopping him as he drew abreast of my house on his morning walk. We talked about the stroke. We talked about his life. He has lived on the same street in our town almost his entire life. He said he's happy with the life he's lived; proud of things he's accomplished.
He told me something that I think is a big factor in Ed's long life and his recovery from his strokes.
"I see nothing but good coming our way. I try to find the best in everything."
I think I'll chisel that into the walls of my house or paint it as a mural in every room.
Ed was a farm kid during the depression. He was in the army in World War II. He knows hard times. Ed works hard and doesn't quit.
"I see nothing but good coming out way. I try to find the best in everything."
I'm going to start thinking like Ed does.
Monday, August 10, 2009
I've been taking a lot of photographs lately, and all that looking at my camera made me aware of something; it is designed for use by right handed people. The majority of controls are on the right side of the camera body.
I wondered if left handers have trouble working a camera? Are there left handed cameras?
My daughter is left handed so I have some familiarity with the challenges can be a part of the left handed life. But I'm also aware of how often leftys are actually more ambidextrous than purely left handed. Is this because they've had to be or is there more to it?
Some researching showed that most ambidextrous people have either been forced into it, as back when schools forced left handed children to do everything right handed, or have they chosen it on their own to adapt to the right handed world they live in. The truly ambidextrous person is rare. The highest percentage of ambidextrous people are usually left dominant by nature.
My daughter does many things right handed because she just adapted to the right handed implements in the world, but I will say that she did it with an ease that surprised me. I'm an ambidextrous fencer even though I am definitely a righty. I started practicing both ways right from the start so that I wouldn't build up muscles on one side of my body but not on the other. When I received a fencing injury to my right hand, I was able to keep fencing while it healed, discovering that I was as good left handed as right.
Have you ever tried to use your week hand? Did you have much success?
I wondered if left handers have trouble working a camera? Are there left handed cameras?
My daughter is left handed so I have some familiarity with the challenges can be a part of the left handed life. But I'm also aware of how often leftys are actually more ambidextrous than purely left handed. Is this because they've had to be or is there more to it?
Some researching showed that most ambidextrous people have either been forced into it, as back when schools forced left handed children to do everything right handed, or have they chosen it on their own to adapt to the right handed world they live in. The truly ambidextrous person is rare. The highest percentage of ambidextrous people are usually left dominant by nature.
My daughter does many things right handed because she just adapted to the right handed implements in the world, but I will say that she did it with an ease that surprised me. I'm an ambidextrous fencer even though I am definitely a righty. I started practicing both ways right from the start so that I wouldn't build up muscles on one side of my body but not on the other. When I received a fencing injury to my right hand, I was able to keep fencing while it healed, discovering that I was as good left handed as right.
Have you ever tried to use your week hand? Did you have much success?
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