Last Thursday I received an invitation from the AJC Gwinnett Opinions page, sent to those of us on the Voice of Gwinnett panelist list to comment on Motherhood in 2007, posed as follows:
Question:
What are the qualities, character and skills needed to be a good mother in 2007? Are they timeless, the same as in generations past? Or have they adapted and evolved as society has changed?
My response:
I know I'm not unique, but it hardly seems possible to me that only yesterday I was a very young mother and today I am a great grandmother. I have much to reflect upon. Motherhood? Though the care required and the skills needed to raise a child from infancy upward remain basically the same, we know there are far greater challenges in 2007 than there were in 1952.
Safety and health, nourishment, love, play, instruction and discipline are as much in the mix as they ever were. But as the world has changed, become so much more complicated and now offers the very young choices not even imagined in the past, a mother must remain far more discerning regarding the physical, cultural, moral and intellectual development of her children. Whether threats come from the street or from information filtering into the home from television and the internet, a mother's task is to choose wisely what is simply a matter of cultural change or is insidious and harmful. Nothing, however, can take the place of love, bedtime stories and being the anchor of the home.
I sent along the photo of myself and Miss Elsa, taken in November, which you can see right here.
It seems my comments were appreciated and will be published in Sunday's paper.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Sunday, May 6, 2007
Georgia Writers Association's 11th Annual Spring Festival
Yesterday was Georgia Writers Association's 11th Annual Spring Festival of Writers Workshops. As usual it was an event loaded with information for both wannabees (thank goodness they keep surfacing) and those who are nearly ready, ready to publish, or already published and seeking marketing tips and information. You can see the lineup on Georgia Writers website if you're curious. It is http://www.georgiawriters.org/Festival-2007.htm.
Each year, usually starting in December or January, I have put this event together. Many of the presenters have been "regulars" with new ones added each year. If I do it again, and I might, the next one will be different. Of course there are a few I will always ask to participate as they're mainstays, people with information for writers that is solid and timeless. But I'm thinking it's time for a possibly fresh approach.
Quite a few of the writers attending signed up for In The Company of Writers' mailing list. I'm hoping that nearly all of them will want to sign up for the next Webinar. Valerie Clark will be presenting What Agents Are Looking For on June 9 and it promises to be well worthwhile for anyone at the point of needing an agent in their writing efforts. If this fits you, go back to the ITCW website and click on "Coming Up!"
Each year, usually starting in December or January, I have put this event together. Many of the presenters have been "regulars" with new ones added each year. If I do it again, and I might, the next one will be different. Of course there are a few I will always ask to participate as they're mainstays, people with information for writers that is solid and timeless. But I'm thinking it's time for a possibly fresh approach.
Quite a few of the writers attending signed up for In The Company of Writers' mailing list. I'm hoping that nearly all of them will want to sign up for the next Webinar. Valerie Clark will be presenting What Agents Are Looking For on June 9 and it promises to be well worthwhile for anyone at the point of needing an agent in their writing efforts. If this fits you, go back to the ITCW website and click on "Coming Up!"
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
A Poem to Outgrow A War
I've been wondering what I'd say on my next post... I don't have to wonder any more. This just came into my email from ARTNEWS, a listserve of artists, poets, writers and other loveable (and sometimes not so loveable) creative types. Thanks be.
Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal
by Naomi Shihab Nye
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any
Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately
Well -- one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own
gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor,
wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her.
What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four
hours late and she
Did this.
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway,
min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew -- however
poorly used -
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been cancelled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical
treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we're fine, you'll get
there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let's call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on
the plane and
Would ride next to her -- southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just
for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while
in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call
some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took
up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her
life. Answering
Questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies --
little powderedSugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts --
out of her bag --
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It
was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler
from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo -- we were all covered
with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better
cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from
huge coolers --
Non-alcoholic -- and the two little girls for our
flight, one African
American, one Mexican American -- ran around serving
us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar
too.
And I noticed my new best friend -- by now we were holding hands --
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some
medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling
tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones
and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate -- once the crying of
confusion stopped
-- has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other
women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal
by Naomi Shihab Nye
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any
Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately
Well -- one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own
gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor,
wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her.
What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four
hours late and she
Did this.
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway,
min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew -- however
poorly used -
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been cancelled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical
treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we're fine, you'll get
there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let's call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on
the plane and
Would ride next to her -- southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just
for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while
in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call
some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took
up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her
life. Answering
Questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies --
little powderedSugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts --
out of her bag --
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It
was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler
from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo -- we were all covered
with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There is no better
cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from
huge coolers --
Non-alcoholic -- and the two little girls for our
flight, one African
American, one Mexican American -- ran around serving
us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar
too.
And I noticed my new best friend -- by now we were holding hands --
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some
medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling
tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones
and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate -- once the crying of
confusion stopped
-- has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other
women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
Friday, April 27, 2007
The Hummingbird Wars
My friend Bill York, who like me is a hummingbird enthusiast, tells me that the hummers have returned early this year. Bill called the other day to say that he had already seen a pair near his deck. He promptly put up a feeder.
At the end of last year's season my favorite feeder fell and broke, leaving me to search for a new one. I was unable to find a replacement as the season was over and the kind I like were off the shelves. The stores that sell animal products have a selection of various sizes and styles and most of them are pitiful.
Yesterday, keeping in mind that I knew what I wanted, I went hunting. I was in luck. One of the local stores had a 50% off sale on last year's feeders and as it happens they were exactly the kind I prefer. I bought three.
From this time of year until October when the hummingbirds leave for warmer climes, every week or so I can be seen with red-stained hands. This is because I always make my own nectar; 1/4 cup of sugar to 1 cup of water and a tiny drop of red food coloring, and I always manage to get some of the powerful red stuff on my fingers. I heat the water so the sugar will dissolve thoroughly, add the food coloring and when the nectar has cooled down I fill the feeders. I hang them from the pergola above my deck and in the trees in the front yard and then I wait for the hungry little birds to entertain me as they zip in for nourishment.
A few years ago when they were in full summer's activities, and after having tried for weeks to attract these tiny birds, I wrote this little story and I share it with you now.
The Hummingbird Wars
I have finally been successful in coaxing the establishment of a hummingbird population in my yard. The feeder needs regular replenishment. My cats and I are royally entertained by “hummer” antics as we watch them just outside the living room window. Unaware of their diminutive size, hummingbirds are feisty and territorial. They are diligent in their performance of hummingbird business: raising lilliputian progeny and vying for first nectar-drinking rights.
Lately a dominant male has taken to hiding in the philodendron that swings beside the feeder. He is determined to keep others away from “his” food source. It is a constant battle. The moment he takes off chasing one impertinent interloper, another zooms in to steal a meal.
The other day while I was watering the flowers on my deck, the self-appointed proprietor of the feeder confronted me. For a moment, it was a stand-off as we each remained in position, he in midair, I, motionless, not wanting to frighten him away. How often can you stare down such a brave critter? But in a flash a brazen encroacher, unaware of our rendezvous, zipped onto the scene and he and my heroic tenant nearly crashed before my eyes.
An old fable about the hummingbird goes like this: Once there was a great fire in the jungle. A hummingbird, flying at high speed, passed by a lion. The lion, startled, asked him, “Hummingbird, where are you going in such a hurry?”
The hummingbird responded, “I am carrying water, in my beak, to put out a fire in the forest!”
The lion retorted, “But the amount of water you can carry in your beak is so tiny!”
To which the hummingbird replied, “I am doing my part!”
How about you?
At the end of last year's season my favorite feeder fell and broke, leaving me to search for a new one. I was unable to find a replacement as the season was over and the kind I like were off the shelves. The stores that sell animal products have a selection of various sizes and styles and most of them are pitiful.
Yesterday, keeping in mind that I knew what I wanted, I went hunting. I was in luck. One of the local stores had a 50% off sale on last year's feeders and as it happens they were exactly the kind I prefer. I bought three.
From this time of year until October when the hummingbirds leave for warmer climes, every week or so I can be seen with red-stained hands. This is because I always make my own nectar; 1/4 cup of sugar to 1 cup of water and a tiny drop of red food coloring, and I always manage to get some of the powerful red stuff on my fingers. I heat the water so the sugar will dissolve thoroughly, add the food coloring and when the nectar has cooled down I fill the feeders. I hang them from the pergola above my deck and in the trees in the front yard and then I wait for the hungry little birds to entertain me as they zip in for nourishment.
A few years ago when they were in full summer's activities, and after having tried for weeks to attract these tiny birds, I wrote this little story and I share it with you now.
The Hummingbird Wars
I have finally been successful in coaxing the establishment of a hummingbird population in my yard. The feeder needs regular replenishment. My cats and I are royally entertained by “hummer” antics as we watch them just outside the living room window. Unaware of their diminutive size, hummingbirds are feisty and territorial. They are diligent in their performance of hummingbird business: raising lilliputian progeny and vying for first nectar-drinking rights.
Lately a dominant male has taken to hiding in the philodendron that swings beside the feeder. He is determined to keep others away from “his” food source. It is a constant battle. The moment he takes off chasing one impertinent interloper, another zooms in to steal a meal.
The other day while I was watering the flowers on my deck, the self-appointed proprietor of the feeder confronted me. For a moment, it was a stand-off as we each remained in position, he in midair, I, motionless, not wanting to frighten him away. How often can you stare down such a brave critter? But in a flash a brazen encroacher, unaware of our rendezvous, zipped onto the scene and he and my heroic tenant nearly crashed before my eyes.
An old fable about the hummingbird goes like this: Once there was a great fire in the jungle. A hummingbird, flying at high speed, passed by a lion. The lion, startled, asked him, “Hummingbird, where are you going in such a hurry?”
The hummingbird responded, “I am carrying water, in my beak, to put out a fire in the forest!”
The lion retorted, “But the amount of water you can carry in your beak is so tiny!”
To which the hummingbird replied, “I am doing my part!”
How about you?
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Miss Elsa’s Lesson for Writers: What My One-Year Old Great Granddaughter Taught Me About Writing
As I was watching Miss Elsa, my beautiful almost one-year-old great granddaughter, learning to walk, it occurred to me that a process we all take for granted was once a major challenge. And what really impressed me is how she went about acquiring the ability to go from one place to another on her two little legs and tiny feet, limbs and appendages she was hardly aware of to begin with.
I realized that her learning process had some profound lessons for us as writers.
• First, she was single-minded and on-purpose. Once she realized walking was possible, she chose to go everywhere on two feet. Never mind that she often fell down. Unless there was some tight spot she couldn’t get through standing up, she was up trying to walk.
• Second, she is Unstoppable. If someone or something gets in her way, she’ll walk around them or it. And she keeps on going. She’ll walk from the front door to the kitchen to the living room and back again, just because she can.
• Third, she is failure-proof. When she started off she fell down every few steps. She realized, however, that all she had to do was to get up and she could be off on her mission again. Getting up became easy, and falling down became less frequent. Even when she fell in a way that would cause any adult to wince, she just popped right up, because getting up after falling down had become second nature for her.
And you know this is a proven formula for success. We all learned to walk quite well—right?
How Does This Apply To Writing?
First, Be Single-minded and On-purpose. To do this you have to have a goal. For example, “I’m going to finish one short story each month for the next six months and submit each one as I complete it. I will then have my work circulating and greatly increase my chances of becoming a writer who is supported by her/his work and be accumulating credits.”
You have to have a plan to reach that goal—i.e., “I’m going to research the best places to submit my style of work, whether to magazines, literary journals or reviews, or contests.” Become familiar with the best ones likely to accept (and pay for) it.
Seond, Be Unstoppable. If rejections seem unending, learn why. Do you need to be more selective in where you submit your work? Have you sufficiently reviewed the type of material your target publishes? Are you familiar with their audience? Remember the mantra of the four Ss: “Some will, Some won’t, So what, Someone’s waiting (to publish your work).”
Third, Be Failure-proof. Remember that challenges—like “falling down”— are part of the process. Get up and keep on going. In time, the getting up will become easy and second nature and the challenges will become less frequent. Do you need to rework the story? Do you need to develop your character(s) more fully? Are you telling rather than showing? How is your dialogue? Find or develop a really good critique group. Take the best classes in your genre that you can find.
Would you like a little help in getting back into your one-year-old mindset? Keep these points in mind:
• Clarify your goals and set up a step-by-step plan, in writing, to achieve them.
• Get the knowledge you need to improve your skills.
• Seek out support and guidance to acquire what you might be missing.
• Get the marketing insights for your particular kind of work by reading and researching what’s out there.
You must go out on that literary limb and do it—no whining, no excuses. Your success depends on your diligence and dedication, the investment you make in your art and to improving your craft. If you’re willing to do what it takes you can achieve your goal to become a recognized and successful writer.
Credit where credit is due: Many thanks to my son-in-law, Dr. Richard Odessey, for the concept on which this fun article is based.
I realized that her learning process had some profound lessons for us as writers.
• First, she was single-minded and on-purpose. Once she realized walking was possible, she chose to go everywhere on two feet. Never mind that she often fell down. Unless there was some tight spot she couldn’t get through standing up, she was up trying to walk.
• Second, she is Unstoppable. If someone or something gets in her way, she’ll walk around them or it. And she keeps on going. She’ll walk from the front door to the kitchen to the living room and back again, just because she can.
• Third, she is failure-proof. When she started off she fell down every few steps. She realized, however, that all she had to do was to get up and she could be off on her mission again. Getting up became easy, and falling down became less frequent. Even when she fell in a way that would cause any adult to wince, she just popped right up, because getting up after falling down had become second nature for her.
And you know this is a proven formula for success. We all learned to walk quite well—right?
How Does This Apply To Writing?
First, Be Single-minded and On-purpose. To do this you have to have a goal. For example, “I’m going to finish one short story each month for the next six months and submit each one as I complete it. I will then have my work circulating and greatly increase my chances of becoming a writer who is supported by her/his work and be accumulating credits.”
You have to have a plan to reach that goal—i.e., “I’m going to research the best places to submit my style of work, whether to magazines, literary journals or reviews, or contests.” Become familiar with the best ones likely to accept (and pay for) it.
Seond, Be Unstoppable. If rejections seem unending, learn why. Do you need to be more selective in where you submit your work? Have you sufficiently reviewed the type of material your target publishes? Are you familiar with their audience? Remember the mantra of the four Ss: “Some will, Some won’t, So what, Someone’s waiting (to publish your work).”
Third, Be Failure-proof. Remember that challenges—like “falling down”— are part of the process. Get up and keep on going. In time, the getting up will become easy and second nature and the challenges will become less frequent. Do you need to rework the story? Do you need to develop your character(s) more fully? Are you telling rather than showing? How is your dialogue? Find or develop a really good critique group. Take the best classes in your genre that you can find.
Would you like a little help in getting back into your one-year-old mindset? Keep these points in mind:
• Clarify your goals and set up a step-by-step plan, in writing, to achieve them.
• Get the knowledge you need to improve your skills.
• Seek out support and guidance to acquire what you might be missing.
• Get the marketing insights for your particular kind of work by reading and researching what’s out there.
You must go out on that literary limb and do it—no whining, no excuses. Your success depends on your diligence and dedication, the investment you make in your art and to improving your craft. If you’re willing to do what it takes you can achieve your goal to become a recognized and successful writer.
Credit where credit is due: Many thanks to my son-in-law, Dr. Richard Odessey, for the concept on which this fun article is based.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Blackberry Winter
The other day I received an email from my friend Charles McNair. He and his Paste Magazine partner, Nick Purdy, are founding a "media brand" for the South called SCOUT. In the email Charles named the freezing morning a "blackeberry winter morning." I was curious about the phrase and this is what I found: A (mainly Southern) term used to describe a brief period of cold weather that coincides with the time the blackberries are in bloom, (typically in early to mid May). I like the term but detest the cold and my blackberries are most certainly not in bloom.
Nearly all the beautiful azaleas, lilacs and other flowering delights in my yard are pathetic looking after this record-breaking freeze over the last few days. My luscious tropicals, many of which I have nurtured for long years, were moved outdoors for the season by two strong men. They couldn't be moved back in on short notice, they're just too huge. They're wrapped in sheets and plastic but I don't have a good feeling about what the cold might have done to them. I've been reluctant to go and look until the cold snap is done... maybe by tomorrow. I had thought about waiting to move them until after the tenth of April but the weather seemed so lovely... I should have heeded that little voice, now I'm experiencing Mother Nature's little "gotcha."
I'll bet I'll have to replant all my tomatoes, peppers, sweet basil and strawberries.
Nearly all the beautiful azaleas, lilacs and other flowering delights in my yard are pathetic looking after this record-breaking freeze over the last few days. My luscious tropicals, many of which I have nurtured for long years, were moved outdoors for the season by two strong men. They couldn't be moved back in on short notice, they're just too huge. They're wrapped in sheets and plastic but I don't have a good feeling about what the cold might have done to them. I've been reluctant to go and look until the cold snap is done... maybe by tomorrow. I had thought about waiting to move them until after the tenth of April but the weather seemed so lovely... I should have heeded that little voice, now I'm experiencing Mother Nature's little "gotcha."
I'll bet I'll have to replant all my tomatoes, peppers, sweet basil and strawberries.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
This must be Spring!
In The Company of Writers is moving ahead. New webinars are in the planning stages and it won't be long before there'll really be something for everyone. Although our "virtual classroom" has taken just a bit longer than planned due to the editing service having taken longer to deliver than was originally promised. But I'm told that several of the segments are ready to upload and it will hopefully only be a matter of days now before the classroom is in full operation. Check out my website and you'll see.
In the meantime, here's something new, and you can call me a dinosaur, but I've just discovered Photobucket. Of course I signed right up, and above you see the first result.
Here in Atlanta the weather has finally turned warm. There have even been a couple of hot days. Yesterday I spent the day in the kitchen in preparation for last night's houseful of dinner guests for the First Seder of Passover. I prepared huge amounts of everything. There was the pot of my special chicken soup with a ton of matzoh balls and my also special charoset (grated fresh apples seasoned with sweet kosher blackberry wine, a touch of cinnamon and ginger, a breath of lemon juice and chopped pecans). I smoked a leg of lamb and a large chicken in my Big Green Egg, made latkes (potatoe pancakes) and served them with the beautiful pink sugar free applesauce I made and put up last November. There were green beans and carrots and salad, and of course gefilte fish and horseradish. And for my vegetarian long distance husband, I made Mahi Mahi and baked sweet potatoe. We topped it all off with more wine and macaroons.
When I finally realized the house was way too warm, I turned on the A/C only to discover that it was dead. Well, we survived the evening in spite of the too warm dining room and the mountains of food and wine we all consumed. How I love Passover!
I had the pleasure of sharing the Passover experience with two dear friends, neither of whom had ever attended a seder. My good friend, John Naugle, Co-Founder of Atlanta: City of Peace and my dear friend and buddy, prize winning mystery author Fran Stewart. Both were suitably and delightedly touched by the ceremony, the fun and the food.
But last night's star guest was Miss Elsa who'll be a year old on the 19th. She was wearing her "My First Passover" bib. At one point in the ceremony, that point being that it was time to go home and to bed, Elsa's beautiful mother, Teryn, guided her to the afikomen (a token piece of matzoh, unleavened bread, that signifies the haste and hardships of that long ago time). It had been strategically placed on the bottom stair and you'd have thought she understood what was happening. She grabbed it and waved it in the air, squealing with joy. Her ransom price was a stuffed Mamma Polar bear and her twin cubs, one of which was clutching a dollar bill. With love from Grammy (me, her oh-so-proud great grandmother).
Last Thursday was grooming day for my four cats and as I was finishing clipping the claws of my huge white male, he growled a couple of times and pretended to bite. I ignored him and kept going. Suddenly he let me have it with a fierce bite on the fleshy part of my thumb. Wow, did that ever hurt! I cleaned it off, squeezing it a bit to make it bleed so as to cleanse the two deep bite wounds, and went about my business.
By the next day my hand was swollen and in the late afternoon, as I was preparing to go to a cocktail party/fund raiser for Atlanta:City of Peace, I realized that I was in trouble. I hurriedly telephoned a local emergency doctor's office and shortly afterward I found myself lying on a table with an intravenous tube of antibiotic dripping into my vein. This was after they first used me for a pincushion trying to find the right vein. I was informed that if I had waited any longer things would have been far more serious. It took a couple of hours and consequently I missed a great party.
I'm fine now but I'm still taking bolus-sized antibiotic pills and will have to do so for another week. It was both expensive and painful to be such a smart aleck. For females: if you ever have to take antibiotics, it's a good idea to follow them up an hour or so later with acidophilus and some live-bacteria yogurt to avoid a possible yeast infection.
There you have it, my comments about ignoring purrfectly clear cat warnings and my resulting medical advice, and a rhapsodic narration of Passover fun.
Post a note or email me... and Happy Spring.
In the meantime, here's something new, and you can call me a dinosaur, but I've just discovered Photobucket. Of course I signed right up, and above you see the first result.
Here in Atlanta the weather has finally turned warm. There have even been a couple of hot days. Yesterday I spent the day in the kitchen in preparation for last night's houseful of dinner guests for the First Seder of Passover. I prepared huge amounts of everything. There was the pot of my special chicken soup with a ton of matzoh balls and my also special charoset (grated fresh apples seasoned with sweet kosher blackberry wine, a touch of cinnamon and ginger, a breath of lemon juice and chopped pecans). I smoked a leg of lamb and a large chicken in my Big Green Egg, made latkes (potatoe pancakes) and served them with the beautiful pink sugar free applesauce I made and put up last November. There were green beans and carrots and salad, and of course gefilte fish and horseradish. And for my vegetarian long distance husband, I made Mahi Mahi and baked sweet potatoe. We topped it all off with more wine and macaroons.
When I finally realized the house was way too warm, I turned on the A/C only to discover that it was dead. Well, we survived the evening in spite of the too warm dining room and the mountains of food and wine we all consumed. How I love Passover!
I had the pleasure of sharing the Passover experience with two dear friends, neither of whom had ever attended a seder. My good friend, John Naugle, Co-Founder of Atlanta: City of Peace and my dear friend and buddy, prize winning mystery author Fran Stewart. Both were suitably and delightedly touched by the ceremony, the fun and the food.
But last night's star guest was Miss Elsa who'll be a year old on the 19th. She was wearing her "My First Passover" bib. At one point in the ceremony, that point being that it was time to go home and to bed, Elsa's beautiful mother, Teryn, guided her to the afikomen (a token piece of matzoh, unleavened bread, that signifies the haste and hardships of that long ago time). It had been strategically placed on the bottom stair and you'd have thought she understood what was happening. She grabbed it and waved it in the air, squealing with joy. Her ransom price was a stuffed Mamma Polar bear and her twin cubs, one of which was clutching a dollar bill. With love from Grammy (me, her oh-so-proud great grandmother).
Last Thursday was grooming day for my four cats and as I was finishing clipping the claws of my huge white male, he growled a couple of times and pretended to bite. I ignored him and kept going. Suddenly he let me have it with a fierce bite on the fleshy part of my thumb. Wow, did that ever hurt! I cleaned it off, squeezing it a bit to make it bleed so as to cleanse the two deep bite wounds, and went about my business.
By the next day my hand was swollen and in the late afternoon, as I was preparing to go to a cocktail party/fund raiser for Atlanta:City of Peace, I realized that I was in trouble. I hurriedly telephoned a local emergency doctor's office and shortly afterward I found myself lying on a table with an intravenous tube of antibiotic dripping into my vein. This was after they first used me for a pincushion trying to find the right vein. I was informed that if I had waited any longer things would have been far more serious. It took a couple of hours and consequently I missed a great party.
I'm fine now but I'm still taking bolus-sized antibiotic pills and will have to do so for another week. It was both expensive and painful to be such a smart aleck. For females: if you ever have to take antibiotics, it's a good idea to follow them up an hour or so later with acidophilus and some live-bacteria yogurt to avoid a possible yeast infection.
There you have it, my comments about ignoring purrfectly clear cat warnings and my resulting medical advice, and a rhapsodic narration of Passover fun.
Post a note or email me... and Happy Spring.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Partially thanks to my good friend Collin Kelley, I'm finally getting started with a blog. His level headedness and kind encouragement has always been a pleasure for me. I also have Michelle Odessey to thank as she is my primary "go do already it for God's sake" prodder. You have to understand that Michelle, (who has a highly successful website, InvestorWealthcom) has earned the right to prod me in a different way. She's my daughter.
I'm still recovering from the AWP conference. It was mind boggling. There were many readings and lectures to choose from, but as no one could do them all it's hard to separate the wheat from the chaff, to use an old saying.
And addressing that phrase I'd like to stand in defense of many of the good old cliches, i.e., "quick as a wink," "bet your bottom dollar" and so forth. They were created to make a point about something and they did a good job. That is not to say that I'm not a proponent of fresh language, words creatively used to bring a thought to common understanding.
This morning I thought about creating a list for myself of phrases that pop into my head, which happens sometimes. If I did, as the list grew I'd have a field of my own smart words to choose from when I was stuck. But then I'd have to start categorizing them and keeping track and all that and it quickly assumed the guise of more work. I'll have to be satisfied to allow my muse to step in when I need to fire off a brilliant mot juste.
Back to the AWP, I there was one thing that happened that has stood out from everything else there. I showed Tony Grooms my poem, "Placenta" which I had written last April, on the day my great granddaughter was born. He told me to take it over to Allison Joseph, Editor of Crab Orchard Review and show it to her. She asked me to send it to her, adding the caveat that it was no guarantee of publication. Editors can never be too careful. We'll see what happens.
A couple of nights ago I awoke in a fit of concern that my birds were getting chilled and would become ill. The day had been fairly warm and I had opened all the windows in the sunroom, where I keep the seventy or so finches I have in four cages in that bright room. I rushed downstairs to find that it wasn't really all that cold, but I did close the windows anyway. Now as I'm sitting here in the office with the ceiling fan moving to keep the air fresh... I'm hot.
It's been interesting to watch as the changes take place in Georgia Writers Association now that I am no longer in charge. Last July 1, when Kennesaw University officially took over the administration of GWA, I relinquished my position as Executive Director, a position I had held since Tony Grooms, Susan Graham and I began the organization. I still hold the position of President but my thoughts and opinions seem to be pretty much only a token now. Things have changed and will continue to do so as GWA settles in to its new life in academia. GWA was created to serve all writers at all levels in Georgia. I hope it continues to exemplify that rather lofty goal. It certainly took all my energy to move it forward and I have no regrets, about any of it.
Now there's In The Company of Writers (ITCW) my new endeavor. ITCW is a new web-based educational service for writers in all genres and at all levels of their writing careers. Interactive classes, called Webinars, are conducted live via the combination of telephone and computer. Students can both hear the presenter and see the examples of what is being discussed... on their own computer, in their own home or office, and enjoy a unique learning experience. No travel time or gas expense, no hotel, valet or parking fees, and no expensive meals.
Via the Internet, ITCW offers a virtual highway to participants' success as authors, freelance writers, poets, journalists, memoirists, family historians, documentarists, playwrights, screenwriters... you name it. Faculty members are professionals, people whose names and expertise are recognizable. They have a track record in education, leading seminars, workshops, conferences, etc., book publication, and/or marketing.
What a pleasant surprise it was to find a mention of me and ITCW on a blog search this morning. Thanks to Dan Wickett. I did have a small correction to his post, however, although we hope that all writers become "good" writers, our name does not include that word.
Our first webinar series, "SHAPE OF WORDS, Novel Writing from Concept to Contract" and presented by Dr. Brian Corrigan, was fun and chock full of valuable information for fiction writers especially. It actually had good tips for anyone writing. Its description is still up under Just Completed, a link also found on ITCW's home page. The entire class was recorded, as all our classes will be, and will be ready for new students in our "virtual classroom" probably on March 30. It will be complete but not live, of course.
ITCW is producing an online forum on writers' problems, Saturdays at noon EST. Called BLOCK TALK with Michael Lucker, it will begin on April 7, 2007 and run each Saturday for the entire month. If it is successful we'll continue into May and then review and consider our options. See the website and click on Coming April 7 for more information.
That should do it for my first posting. Thanks and goodnight.
~ GT
I'm still recovering from the AWP conference. It was mind boggling. There were many readings and lectures to choose from, but as no one could do them all it's hard to separate the wheat from the chaff, to use an old saying.
And addressing that phrase I'd like to stand in defense of many of the good old cliches, i.e., "quick as a wink," "bet your bottom dollar" and so forth. They were created to make a point about something and they did a good job. That is not to say that I'm not a proponent of fresh language, words creatively used to bring a thought to common understanding.
This morning I thought about creating a list for myself of phrases that pop into my head, which happens sometimes. If I did, as the list grew I'd have a field of my own smart words to choose from when I was stuck. But then I'd have to start categorizing them and keeping track and all that and it quickly assumed the guise of more work. I'll have to be satisfied to allow my muse to step in when I need to fire off a brilliant mot juste.
Back to the AWP, I there was one thing that happened that has stood out from everything else there. I showed Tony Grooms my poem, "Placenta" which I had written last April, on the day my great granddaughter was born. He told me to take it over to Allison Joseph, Editor of Crab Orchard Review and show it to her. She asked me to send it to her, adding the caveat that it was no guarantee of publication. Editors can never be too careful. We'll see what happens.
A couple of nights ago I awoke in a fit of concern that my birds were getting chilled and would become ill. The day had been fairly warm and I had opened all the windows in the sunroom, where I keep the seventy or so finches I have in four cages in that bright room. I rushed downstairs to find that it wasn't really all that cold, but I did close the windows anyway. Now as I'm sitting here in the office with the ceiling fan moving to keep the air fresh... I'm hot.
It's been interesting to watch as the changes take place in Georgia Writers Association now that I am no longer in charge. Last July 1, when Kennesaw University officially took over the administration of GWA, I relinquished my position as Executive Director, a position I had held since Tony Grooms, Susan Graham and I began the organization. I still hold the position of President but my thoughts and opinions seem to be pretty much only a token now. Things have changed and will continue to do so as GWA settles in to its new life in academia. GWA was created to serve all writers at all levels in Georgia. I hope it continues to exemplify that rather lofty goal. It certainly took all my energy to move it forward and I have no regrets, about any of it.
Now there's In The Company of Writers (ITCW) my new endeavor. ITCW is a new web-based educational service for writers in all genres and at all levels of their writing careers. Interactive classes, called Webinars, are conducted live via the combination of telephone and computer. Students can both hear the presenter and see the examples of what is being discussed... on their own computer, in their own home or office, and enjoy a unique learning experience. No travel time or gas expense, no hotel, valet or parking fees, and no expensive meals.
Via the Internet, ITCW offers a virtual highway to participants' success as authors, freelance writers, poets, journalists, memoirists, family historians, documentarists, playwrights, screenwriters... you name it. Faculty members are professionals, people whose names and expertise are recognizable. They have a track record in education, leading seminars, workshops, conferences, etc., book publication, and/or marketing.
What a pleasant surprise it was to find a mention of me and ITCW on a blog search this morning. Thanks to Dan Wickett. I did have a small correction to his post, however, although we hope that all writers become "good" writers, our name does not include that word.
Our first webinar series, "SHAPE OF WORDS, Novel Writing from Concept to Contract" and presented by Dr. Brian Corrigan, was fun and chock full of valuable information for fiction writers especially. It actually had good tips for anyone writing. Its description is still up under Just Completed, a link also found on ITCW's home page. The entire class was recorded, as all our classes will be, and will be ready for new students in our "virtual classroom" probably on March 30. It will be complete but not live, of course.
ITCW is producing an online forum on writers' problems, Saturdays at noon EST. Called BLOCK TALK with Michael Lucker, it will begin on April 7, 2007 and run each Saturday for the entire month. If it is successful we'll continue into May and then review and consider our options. See the website and click on Coming April 7 for more information.
That should do it for my first posting. Thanks and goodnight.
~ GT
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