Masquerade - BlogFlash 2012

Never been to a masquerade, but we used to go to my brother-in-law's Halloween parties every year. This was pre-kid, which meant we actually had time to make costumes. 

One year my boyfriend (now my husband) and I decided to make Potato Head outfits. He would be Mister, and I was Missus.

We began with the actual potato part, which was really easy - just two large beige pieces of felt cut into potato shapes with holes for our heads and hands. Our legs stuck out the bottom.

We decided to make the face pieces removable, so you could actually play with the costumes. So that was the hard part. The nose was the most difficult, and we tackled that first: one styrofoam cone split in half lengthwise was the bridge, and a styro sphere split in half on either side were nostrils. We covered those with skin colored felt and added velcro to the back.

The lips for Missus were more styrofoam. I cut lip shapes out of a styro flat block and covered them with red felt. Mister just needed a mustache, so we glued fun fur to another flat block, cut in half lengthwise. More velcro went on the back.

The eyes were easy - we got four flat ovals and glued on felt shapes, in order: pupils, lids (missus's lids were blue with eyeshadow) and lashes for Missus. Mister needed two smaller versions of his mustache for eyebrows.

Boyfriend cut out ear shapes from another flat styro block and we glued pink felt. Velcro went along the side, and those were the most pain in the butt parts - the ears kept falling off. If I did it again, I'd make the ears flat to the body.

Meanwhile, the opposing strips of Velcro were glued to the felt bodies - the potatoes, as it were. Note how I never picked up a needle during this entire project?

We found two cheapo softie top hats. Missus's was pink; Mister's was black. I cut out holes for our faces and we put them on right over our heads. 

Two pairs of large gardening gloves for our hands and largish shoes, and we were all set. Imagine the joy of all in attendance when they discovered they could PLAY with our costumes.

Damn straight we won the prize. Vive la Masquerade!

Seeing - BlogFlash 2012

I think I was in sixth grade when it suddenly hit me how amazing sight was. I was looking at something very normal, like leaves on a tree, and I thought, "They are green, and the wood is brown. Isn't cool that I can sense that?"

At that point I probably realized I brought the wrong homework or wore two different colored socks. Or whatever. Real life intervened and the wonder of sight drifted away.

Years and years later, I went with my husband to the incredible art museum in Chicago. There was a painting in the Impressionist section of a few boats lying on a pebbly beach near the sea. A few people walked off  in the distance. The sky was a bit dark, and you could just tell a storm was coming.

I don't know why that picture grabbed me so. My husband and friends walked on, and I stayed there, entranced. I could hear the steps of the people as they waked on that stony shore. Their footsteps would crunch on the rocks. There would be a smell of brine and water, and the wind would whip your face with a few drops from the incoming storm.

At that point, sight became more than sight. It was another world.

Sometimes paintings that do that for me. They open a window into an alternate universe and offer something that isn't always pretty - sometimes it is quite ugly - but it is alive. For that moment, it lives, and I experience what the painter saw.

I love that.

In the Weeds - BlogFlash 2012

The actual prompt is supposed to be In the Woods, but alas, I am definitely in the weeds instead. If any of you ever waited tables, then you know that dreaded feeling.

Yeah, she has no clue if this is what you really ordered.

But if you haven't had the pleasure, here's what being in the weeds is like:

You have everything under control. Orders are placed, drinks are served. Out of the blue, a eight top is seated in your section. The crowd is pushy and demanding - they want drinks, then they change their minds. They send back the bread and demand more. They want their appetizers reheated.

At the same time, the other tables still need their orders and drinks, but now it's all starting to wheel out of control. The cook makes a mistake on one plate and it gets sent back. You spill a drink. One person orders hot tea, requiring milk, cup, that fiddly little tea pot, and the huge chest of tea bags.

At that point, it has happened - you are In the Weeds. 

And I fear that is where I am at present, between blogs and edits and books. Believe me, I'd much rather be in the woods.

Night - BlogFlash 2012

Night, and the people who prefer the dark come out of hiding. Musicians wake up, stretch, shower, and prepare to go to a gig. Clubbers put  on their glitziest clothes and head to the city. 

Late night workers arrive at their jobs. Cleaners come into buildings deserted hours  ago and get rid of trash, scrub away the filth of the day. They dust shelves, swipe at desks ... maybe they read the note that one worker left by mistake in the corner of her desk. 

Others emerge as well, from hidden corners and secret attics. They climb onto gutters and pipes, steady themselves for a moment, and launch their dark bodies from rooftops.

Perhaps they fly to spy on the Others, the ones who live by day. The dark ones, the night-dwellers, cling to windowsills and peer in at the sleepers. They wonder what the Day People dream about.

Maybe they have a regret or two, or else they accept it as the way things are. The night dwellers watch a bit longer until the Day People stir and turn over. 

At that, the Dark Ones rise, and fly away again, until dawn's streaky bacon chases them back to their hiding holes, their prisons.

Sports - BlogFlash 2012, Day "I'm confused and behind on my posts"

I'm blogging this month with Terri Long and a group of bloggers. 

(Prepare for whining disclaimer here)

I have missed a few days because I am preparing to get THREE books up on Amazon. So, yeah. I'm behind.

And, coincidentally, that's the perfect position for me in a blog about sports. I'm a really bad athlete, so when I was forced to play sports in the past, or when I do athletic stuff now, I'm waaaayyy behind everyone else. 

Fistbump to my readers who picked up on what I just did there.

For example, when I went on my honeymoon my new husband and I met three other couples. We hung out and did couple stuff, like mini golf. And guess who came in dead last in that golf game?

However, when the resort threw a song-writing competition, I was able to contribute. Writing? Lyrics? On a set topic? Yup, I could do that. And win. Ha!

I've been thinking that it would be really cool if there were sports teams for people like me - hopelessly bad athletes who would still like to learn the game. We'd need a patient coach, someone who would teach slow, clueless adults how to play softball and soccer. 

And, coach, it would be sweet if you give us a chance to write about it. We'll rock that part.

Catching up with BlogFlash 2012; days 12 - 15

My goodness, I'm behind. It's a normal thing for me, like when we had to run that mile in track ... back in gym class.... good times.

Ah, the glory and joy of wearing a "Gym Suit"

I missed a few posts of BlogFlash since I had promised Goddess Fish a stop on the Justin Ordenez tour. And I'm glad I did; Sykosa was amazing. You can read more about that here and here.

However, I see that I've missed Day 13 - 15, which have the prompts Forest, Children, and Books.

I'm going to totally cheat here, just like I did in the running of the track back in 11th grade, by combining the three into one post. I've been rereading classics lately (I just finished The Prisoner of Zenda) and these blog prompts made me think of The Children of the New Forest.

This book is the story of the children of Colonel Beverley. During the battle of the Royalists and the Roundheads, everyone thinks they have been killed in a fire. They are not dead, however, and they escape to The New Forest to live there with their former gamekeeper. 

The two boys and two girls have to learn how to live off the land, after being raised in a wealthy household. They begin by being spoilt brats ("boisterous romps") although they are willing enough to learn how to live in the forest. 

There is loads of excitement and adventure, which are my drugs of choice, as the children escape being found by the Roundhead soldiers and grow up in the Forest. 

The book is compelling enough, although it is written in the style of The Swiss Family Robinson : This happened, then this occurred, etc. Character development is a bit rudimentary, and I think the book would make an excellent candidate for a modern rewrite.

Still, if you enjoy reading about hunting and sport, there is loads of that in The Children of the New Forest. The boys learn how to hunt and dress stags, and the girls learn to milk and take care of cows and chickens. 

Drama increases as the plot continues, and the historical background is excellent. I recommend this for anyone who likes to read classics or about survival.

PS - You can read this bad boy for FREE from Project Gutenburg, here, on your Kindle or PC. 

Celebration: BlogFlash 2012 Day 12

Our house has been doing a lot of celebrating lately. We held our annual swim party last weekend, and Game Night was last night, with a group of dear friends. This means that at the moment, I'm tired, sitting in a kitchen that needs a really good mopping up, and I'm a bit hungover as well.

The year seems to be pinned to the wall by celebratory dates. Everything is going along, normal normality, and then - boom! it's a birthday. Or an anniversary. Or the first leaf fell, whatever. 

That means I need to take a deep breath, clean the house (especially the windowsills, which I just discovered were coated with dust behind the window frames) go to Costco, get out my gladrags, etc. etc.

I complain a great deal throughout this process.

And when the day comes, and the friends arrive, and the conversation and the laughter starts, I get into Celebration Mode and it is all worth it. It's more than worth it - it's that great connection between friends and family a few times a year. After all, no matter how we pray or vote, we all act quite alike when that grill starts to sizzle. 

Success - BlogFlash 2012

This is a tough one to write, since I haven't really attained full success.

Except for that time, eight years ago, when I looked across a hospital room into the largest brown eyes I'd ever seen.

Or when my cousin and I won Most Creative and the smallest trophy ever in the sandcastle competition. We built a cake out of sand. I was ten. That was cool.

Not the sandcastle we built.

Or when I was nearly an hour late for my own wedding because traffic was so backed up on I95 that the limo was super late. And my girls and I all packed into my mini Toyota - with the flowers, and the dress all bunched up around me like an inside out cupcake. And I called the church in a panic and got a clueless altar boy.Yet my guy still waited at the altar for me, so : WINNING.

Or when I found jeans that fit really well on the clearance rack with a further 30% discount. Major, major score.

Or that one night, in the summer of 2000, when I typed the words The End and realized I had just finished an entire novel. It was pure drivel and will never see the light of day, but still - I had just proved to myself that I could sit and write an entire book.

Or when we went trick-or-treating and the Mostellers were handing out large size Hershey Bars. YESSSSS.

More Sustaining Than Meat. 

So maybe success isn't one blinding flash of change-your-life balloons from the ceiling get on the news difference engine. Perhaps it's just a series of small things that add up, in retrospect, to a pretty damn good life.

Relaxing - BlogFlash 2012

Sun Tea : Relaxation in a glass. 

I just made a jug of it. The sound of the water gushing into the glass jar, the plops of the tea bags, then my own bare feet walking it outside. 

The smell of the basil plants and the sound of crickets. Early sunlight filters through the trees and highlights the amber tendrils of tea, already starting to brew in the heat.

White and purple wings dancing around the butterfly bush.

The taste on my tongue, tea and agave. Ice clinks and water beads against my hand.

With it, a white nectarine, so ripe that juice spills onto the plate as soon as I slice it.

The hush of a new day. 

Reading - BlogFlash Day 6

Where do  I start? Well, let's start with the fact that my mother used to call us "Desperate Readers." That meant that if you didn't hear anything from one of us for a while - me, my mother, my sister, or my dad - you could be certain of finding us frozen, head in a book.

To add to the desperation, we didn't even have to be sitting at the time. Standing like a stork, one foot drawn up, hovering over the  kitchen counter, brushing teeth, eating... all this was done with a book in hand.

Try to talk to us when we got in that state, and you would have to break through. Friends found it extremely irritating when I didn't answer back. But I was lost in my own little world, you see. 

And it didn't even have to be a book, or a novel. My sister and I used to love to read  the encyclopedia. Or old magazines, or letters, backs of cereal boxes of course...

We were poor in those days, and we used to line our  drawers with newsprint since we weren't able to afford drawer liners. When one of us had to clean out a drawer, couldn't we be found an hour later, reading the old drawer liner? Probably with a pair of  socks in the other hand, too.

So, there are good readers, and challenged readers, and there are Desperate Readers. How many of you join me in this group?

Frustration - BlogFlash 2012, Day 5

Here are things that frustrate me:


When my husband doesn't understand that even though he's ahead of me for the bathroom, I get firsties because I gave birth. Once you go through that process, there are "special" changes that a body goes through, aren't there. MmmmHmmm.

When my kid nods yes in agreement to chicken and broccoli for dinner, and I go ahead and make it, and then when the steaming plate is placed reverently in front of her, she's all, "I didn't want this, I wanted pizza."


When I start reading a book that is very popular and everyone says I must read it and when I finally get it and read it, I realize that I have very different tastes. (Which, translated means, the book is crap.)


When I realize that, yes, there's no way to get out of the fact that I have to clean my house. 

And when I realize that dirty socks and towels really to spawn themselves.


But the number one frustration is when I don't get time to write. I become headachy and snarly and surly. It's been a few days, in fact, so - waaah! Get on out of here, and I mean it!

Colors

This is Day 3 of BlogFlash 2012, a meme started by Terri Long. 

In writing, I always appreciate an awareness of color. A perfect example of this is in songwriting, and the first person who comes to mind is Elvis Costello. His songs include splashes of color, so the listeners can see the red shoes in their minds.


Color is a tricky thing, though. In books, color appears in the same places - eyes, hair, dress. What about the mud on the character's hand, the fallen leaves under her feet, a blue flash of a bird who darts past her?


As a reader and a listener, I love to catch that blue flash in among the black and white words on the page. It's fantastic when a wordsmith has the power to evoke a real image, with real colors, so the story comes to life in all dimensions.