Pre-vacation Bullet Point Post

S. and I leave Wednesday around noon for a ten day vacation to Northern Michigan. Originally we were intending to leave on Thursday but then we realized the traffic on Thursday would probably be monstrous and thus we decided to take off immediately after my last meeting on Wednesday. With the amount of packing, cleaning and organzing we have to do before we leave I imagine this will be my last post until mid-July, and what better way to say adieu than a bullet post? There is no better way, my friends, there just isn’t.

• This is what we’ve done so far in preparation for our trip: fully weeded back garden; transplanted struggling plants; enlisted He Who Tends the Botanical Gardens to water for us; S. did a bunch of small home improvement projects on Saturday; cleaned the house, mostly; bought some new clothes for both of us; bought new pillows in anticipation of his parents’ visit on the heels of our return-
• And here is what we still need to do: pay bills in advance of our leave-taking; stop the mail and the newspapers; laundry; pack; go to the library; I need some personal grooming (at least a brow wax – preferably a pedicure, too, but I can do that at home…) and, well, hmm…that’s not such a bad list, really, is it?
• When did leaving one’s home become such an ordeal? I guess leaving for ten days is a fairly substantial period of time but honestly, it’s a whole heck of a lot of work.
• But it’s okay because I am so! excited! to get to northern Michigan. I cannot wait to cross that invisible marker that separates southern Michigan from up north…the very air changes. We’ll be spending the first few days with my parents to celebrate the 4th of July and after that we’ll spend a week at our cabin.
• Changing subjects…it is beginning to annoy me when people post their tweets as their blog posts. TWEETING IS NOT BLOGGING. I don’t mind when you can see people’s tweets like on a sidebar or something but when it’s the whole blog post? Where did that come from? I am going to unsubscribe to a few blogs if this continues in any sort of sustainable fashion. If I wanted to read your tweets I would subscribe. I don’t.
• Speaking of things that annoy me, I am really irritated with the Governor of South Carolina. First of all, he is NOT sorry he had an affair – he’s sorry he’s about to lose everything he might lose everything he has worked so hard to gain. Secondly, what? Are we exporting our politicians’ mistresses now? He couldn’t find a solid, home-grown American mistress? This is why other countries will eventually dominate us in all areas…we export everything.
• I am both excited and a little freaked out to abandon my blackberry for ten days. I am so very used to it, you see. It’s given me a sense of false importance. Even while I know logically there is no such thing as a public relations emergency, I am still convinced I am important enough that I should check in during vacation. But I am not going to.
• My revision plan for the novel has changed somewhat. I am actually going to wait until mid-August to begin tackling the revisions. This is mostly because I haven’t completed all the research I need to in order to revise but its also because as I’ve been doing the research I realized the way I am going to revise is different than I originally thought. So, here is the plan – revise from mid-August to end of September. Send out drafts to readers around October 1st. Hopefully receive drafts with comments around the holidays. In January I will send out letters to agents during the final revision process.
• Re-reading novels I enjoyed years ago hasn’t proved nearly as helpful as I thought in terms of revision. It turns out I liked some pretty crap books in the past and all this re-reading is doing is giving me a false sense of  “God, my book is better than this” which is undoubtedly not true.
• I am actually going to include less about the Vietnam War and the Gulf War than I originally thought. I have realized this is Anna’s story, not her father’s, not Ben’s, and while I used to think she would be a conduit for the stories of other characters I have since realized the whole entire point of the book is to tell her story, and part of her story is not knowing all the details of the wars both men fought in – her response to the not knowing is part of the tension.
• Pat Conroy is coming out with a new book! Pat Conroy is coming out with a new book! And it’s title is South of Broad. It will be published in mid-August and since it was Beach Music that inspired my decision to become a writer, I think it’s perfectly, beautifully symbolic for me to read South of Broad before I begin my revisions. Publisher’s Weekly didn’t exactly give it a rave but it did say if you like Conroy’s melodrama then you will like his new book, and let me tell you something – I love Conroy’s melodrama – I would swathe myself in it if I could.
• I am not sure what books I’m taking on vacation yet but I do know I need to be terribly well-prepared because thus far the weather doesn’t look overly promising. If you have any favorite vacation reads let me know – nothing scary this time around because while I do love a scary book I have found that when I read them in our cabin in the middle of the woods I am unable to sleep. Anything else is fair game.
• I am sort of bummed I didn’ t get through my new year’s resolution posts this month – even when I feel as though I’m blogging frequently I never manage to achieve everything I think I should. We will leave the rest for the December check-in, though, since I have lots of other things to talk about.
• hmmm, tis all. In 48 hours I will be unplugging from blogs, phones, twitter, facebook, email and won’t be returning for well over a week. I do love my social media but I think this break will be tremendous. See y’all on the flip side!

Lilies of the Alley

If there is one thing I have learned in our half year of home ownership, it is that the elusive idea of “next year” falls from our lips much more frequently than it ever did before. Next year we will refinish the floors on the first and second floor, next year I will have a space of my own to write, next year we will decorate the guest bedroom.  This isn’t because we aren’t doing anything this year, mind you – no, this year we are taking care of all the things, large and small, the previous owners couldn’t take care of as they aged. Receiving estimates on tuck pointing the brick. Saving up to have the vents vaccumed out. Putting electric in the third floor. This is all important work, designed to keep us warm and safe throughout the next winter, but it does little to satisfy my inner interior decorator who has suddenly started buying home decorating magazines at an alarming rate and considering the various merits of Pacific Ocean blue versus Amazing Aquamarine paint.

For instance, yesterday S. spent the bulk of the day installing a new glass block window in the basement, which previously was held only a God-knows-how-old air conditioner. Here is S., with full permission to post his picture, getting ready to work:

…and here is the window before the installation…

…and here it is, after many tools, layers of grout, and mounds of dust…

It is this kind of project that consumes a good portion of one’s day and one’s paycheck but can’t be found in French Country Bedrooms or Greek Cottage Inspiration.

We’ve also spent some time gardening this year. As it turns out gardening is something we enjoy doing together. It also turns out that gardening can really become all-consuming and last week I made the hard choice to stop buying any more plants for the year and just concentrate on weeding and taking care of what we already planted. In our neighborhood your garden is the ultimate “keeping up with the Jones’” statement – we live smack dab between a couple whose backyard was once jokingly nicknamed the Botanical Gardens by a police officer and another couple who have tilled their entire backyard and made a vegetable garden that would leave Alice Waters panting. As much as I wanted to continue planting and replanting and purchasing hanging baskets and pots of flowers I had to cut myself off last week, promising myself that next year I would plant a rose bush, next year I would plant a sunflower patch.

Some of our gardening has been successful and some – meh – not so much. The backyard vegetable garden so far seems to be thriving. Here is what the backyard looked like before we did any kind of work:

and here it is with our so-far successful vegetable garden…

The front yard improvements haven’t been as successful, I’m afraid. I made a disasterous attempt with the front flower bed. I started to get the hang of it as I accepted the help of my neighbors and did some more reading, but in the beginning all I knew to do was plant annuals. Exhibit A:

I quickly learned that this isnt’ the most effective way way to establish a flower bed, especially in Pittsburgh – there is general disdain for annuals in my neighborhood – rather, my neighbors encourage planting flowers that will come back every year and thrive in Pittsburgh’s climate. So, to the left of the annuals I planted lilies and a couple of annuals for a splash of color. Exhibit B:

I thought about ripping up the annuals to the right of this picture but they cost me eight-five dollars and everything is a learning experience, right? Besides, the rather schizophrenic look of the front flower bed will keep folks guessing. In the fall, I will transfer lily and tulip bulbs to this bed and let nature take its course for next year. For now, a full view, complete with dog:

Yesterday one of our neighbors, He Who Tends the Botanical Gardens, offered to help me transplant some lily bulbs come autumn. “I really like the lilies from the alley, don’t you?” He asked. “We could transplant those to the front – I think they would do really well.”

“What are they?” I asked, peering over his fence for a peek at this mysterious sounding lily. I surveyed his roses, his blossoming eggplant bushes, his hot pepper plants, his other, recognizable lilies.

“No, Courtney.” He said, gesturing behind his fence. “They are just lilies that grow wildly in the alley. Around here we call them Lilies of the Alley. I think we could take some for your front yard, though.”

I looked behind our fence and noticed, for the first, time, the long trail of tiger lilies that blazed a path down the otherwise garbage-strewn and brokenly paved alley.

“I like that idea.” I said. “For next year, definitely.”

Volunteer

To say things aren’t working out in Pittsburgh the way S. and I thought they would is a vast understatement. Our decision to move back here a year and a half ago took a serious amount of thought and consideration – when this particular job opportunity arose for me we looked at where I was working and considered the potential in Michigan versus the potential in Detroit and, hands down, Pittsburgh won. My current position is a big step up in terms of responsibility and pay, and, before the economy went down the tubes, seemed ripe with opportunity. Beyond those considerations, we knew if we moved back to Pittsburgh we could afford to buy a home, significantly decrease our car expenses, and generally have a much improved quality of life.

The plan went like this – I would move back to Pittsburgh to start my new position a few months before S. graduated from law school (check). He would then move here and take and pass the bar exam (check, check). When S. shared our plan with his boss back in Michigan, his boss offered to keep him on at his old job, with new responsibilities, working from Pittsburgh. This seemed like a fantastic opportunity to keep us financially afloat while S. looked for law jobs and, indeed, it has certainly done that. What we didn’t anticipate – what nobody  could have anticipated – was the complete and total nosedive the economy took and the shriveling up of any and all law jobs that might be available to a newly anointed member of the bar. S.’s current employer back in Detroit has been so supportive of the both of us, and so enthusiastic about S.’s work, that his boss now hopes to keep S. on indefinitely. While we recognize how very fortunate we are – in a time when people are losing their jobs and struggling with basic needs like food and shelter both of us have jobs, health insurance, great amounts of vacation time. What is hard for us is the amount of travel S.’s job now requires – he is on the road traveling the country about three weeks out of every month. Our relationship has always thrived the more time we spend together and this time apart, without the support network of friends and family we had in Michigan, has exhausted us both, physically and emotionally. It means the majority of the housework falls to me on top of my job, and it also means S. spends just enough time here to unpack, do a few loads of laundry, and pack again. He doesn’t have the time to invest in the city or make friends and since he returns to Detroit frequently for work, Detroit in fact feels more like home to him than Pittsburgh does. We both feel like we owe something to S.’s workplace – his employer cares more for us as a couple, as a family, than mine ever will, but is even talking promotion and additional grooming, but essentially this leaves us often muttering if only we knew then what we knew now…

We are muddling our way through this and I believe we will come out on the other side stronger and more sure of ourselves as adults than we already are, but I recognized within myself during this time an ability to be entirely consumed by the consumate unfairness of the situation, of feeling entirely alone accompanied by the fact of my marriage. And so I thought, really, I should volunteer. I am able to wrap myself up in my head to an almost staggering degree and using some of that energy to serve others seemed only appropriate.

I began quietly looking for opportunities in the new year. I wasn’t sure whether I should tutor, or become a neighborhood tree-tender, or what. And then, out of the proverbial blue, and old professor of mine started a group which I will not name here because it can be googled but basically it was for women who considered themselves feminists and wanted to lend a helping hand to our local NOW chapter, in addition to some other activities. I had adored this professor in graduate school, the kind of adoration I develop for anyone who pushes me much farther than I ever thought I could go, and to work with her again on an equal basis thrilled me.

And so I attended a meeting, the details of which I will perhaps share at some later date but during which one of the conversations centered around the idea that all feminism stems from some sort of personal pain – child abuse, bad marriages, coming late in life to terms with homosexuality – and I was encouraged thusly to share my own story of personal pain and when I didn’t have one – well, it was generally assumed my pain was so deep and I was so injured by existing as a woman in this world I just couldn’t even verbalize my story yet. While I was somewhat put off by this assumption I still hoped to engage with this group because the work they intended to do seemed right in line with my system of values and beliefs.  But what I didn’t realize is just how damn often this group would meet. They meet, like, every other day. And for once in my life I am not exaggerating. There are happy hours, weekend brunches, strolls through our city’s parks, poetry readings, documentaries to attend, books to read and then discuss, meetings of other organizations to attend – there are so many meetings! And I swear, every meeting falls on an evening when I have something work-related to attend, or when I am on call for the hospital system, or when the roof has decided to leak. I have not been able to make another meeting.

That’s the thing with more responsibility and more pay – while on the one hand it feels as though my hard work and dedication to my position is rewarded, on the other the requirements of my job bleed well past the required forty hours a week. Because my job ebbs and flows with what American news media deems important, my days and weeks and months are quite unstable. I could commit, say, to meeting with the group every Wednesday but then there is the week I would be on call and the week I stayed late for a pancreatic cancer meeting and the week I had a fundraising event and, well, you get the idea. I simply can’t be part of a group that meets in any kind of dependable way, let alone a group that meets for walks and talks and poetry slams. I mean, when would I pay the bills? Who would let the dog out?

I had hoped upon moving here that I could teach part time at the University I attended for graduate school, just to keep my toes in academic waters (note other resolution – to embrace my inner academic) but right now I don’t even see that as a possibility given my current routine. or lack thereof.

Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way you think they will. I had imagined upon moving back to Pittsburgh that volunteering on a regular basis would just be one of a thousand small ways I could engage in the community because, don’t doubt for a second, this is one damn beautiful community we have. I have never lived anywhere so full of generous people. Just yesterday my next-door neighbors came buy with a bushel full of fresh cherries. The neighborhood association has dropped by with a bag full of canned goods and literature about the history of our neighborhood.

I imagined my thirties as a time of giving back something of what I have been blessed with, and I still imagine they will be. I do believe the job I do makes a difference in the lives of cancer patients, and sometimes I wonder if a job I pour my heart into, if it effects change in health care communication, is enough. But I was raised by true activists, parents who found time in their lives no matter what else was happening to volunteer at the library, for meals on wheels, for groups determined to protect the rivers and tributaries that run through Michigan and I always envisioned that I, too, would concentrate more on giving back and less on my own little life.

But, and I have to keep reminding myself, sometimes things don’t work out the way we think they will, and this last year has definitely not worked out the way I thought it would.  It isn’t a bad year, per se, just not the year I thought it would be, and it means, for now, I have to remove regular volunteering from my list of resolutions and hope that somewhere in the not so distant future it can be added on again. It has taken me a long time to recognize my own limitations and one thing I am not good with is balancing the demands of too many different things all at once. Realizing this, in and of itself, is something I couldn’t do last year and I consider it an achievement of sorts, albeit a a somewhat bittersweet one.

To Stop All This Negative Self-Talk

One of my resolutions this year was to cease, once and for all, talking negatively about myself, both aloud to other people and silently, in my head. This resolution goes hand in hand with another one I scribbled down but eventually crossed out, which was to take greater care with my use of the English language. Generally my out-loud, among other people talk runs the usual girl gamut – God, I’m fat. That’s really the only truly negative thing I think I say about myself among company. I don’t engage too much in negative self-talk other than that, I don’t think – in conversations with S. sometimes I discuss struggles I have at work, and sometimes I beat myself up about not keeping up with the house or looking perfectly perfect, but I really don’t do a lot of I’m stupid or I’m ugly or anything like that. I have tried to start cutting myself some slack mentally, and I’ve also begun trying to forgive myself more, when my internal discussion goes negative – so, for instance, if I begin to feel some anxiety creeping around my periphery, instead of thinking I cannot believe I am so lame as to get panic attacks, why do I let this happen, etc. I sort of try and recognize that for better or worse this happens, and to a point it really isn’t my fault, and then forgive myself for the situation. I’ll write a little more about that during the hypochondria check in but it’s not that interesting, really.

What is interesting, at least to me, is how, when I decided in January to stop saying “I’m fat” in public, and at the same time, stop discussing food with other women in terms of whether it is “good” or “bad”, and whether we, ourselves, were “good” or “bad” for eating the food, and whether I felt “fat” or I felt “thin”- well, how truly impossible this resolution actually was to maintain and keep if I wanted to have any sort of conversation with other women in the workplace.

At some point in the last couple of years, I physically changed from being heavy to being…not heavy. I am by no means skinny – and that isn’t the ultimate goal, anyway, but I lost enough weight to be mostly normal (and here I am trying so hard not to complain about specific body parts, to NOT engage in this kind of body-hate discussion even though it is still my first instinct) and with the change in my body I truly felt a change in my outlook was appropriate. I could continue to berate myself our I could do what my mother always told me to do and embrace my curves and my smile and my hair and be happy.

I tried REALLY hard to stop saying the words “I’m fat.” I tried to stop participating in endless discussions about whether or not to eat one of the cupcakes someone brought into the office. I tried to stop endless conversations at restaurants about the merits of the ahi tuna tacos versus the bacon-wrapped halibut.

And do you know, it was virtually impossible for me to stop having these conversations? Food and weight seem to be the great conversational equalizer among women in the workplace – something everyone can talk about no matter our religion, our marital status, our political views. I even went so far, in the beginning of the year, to mention that I was no longer trying to lose weight, but that often would bring conversation to a screeching halt, because everyone, even the smallest, most in-shape women around me, were trying in some way, shape or form, to improve their bodies. It wasn’t long – a day, maybe – before I began feeling judged for my decision to accept myself – for the women around me to make me feel as though I shouldn’t just be happy with my body but should consider it, rather, a continuous work in progress.

Food talk begins in the morning, when most of my co-workers eat their breakfast. I always eat my breakfast at home because I believe any meal at a desk is uncivilized and I already too often eat my lunch at my computer, but most women, especially those with young children, don’t have the same luxury of time that I do, and so first thing in the morning conversations go something like this:

I am so bad, I am going to eat one of these bagels with this cream cheese. Nothing but fat and carbs, is what I’m eating today!

Oh, you aren’t as bad as me. I’m going to have a candy bar and a cupcake. I’m just a big, fat slob.

I’ve started eating this oatmeal that has flaxseeds in it because it’s supposed to help with weight control and cholesterol but it’s disgusting, I hate it.

Similar conversations occur throughout the lunch hour, where more often than not I will watch my co-workers graze on leftover sandwiches and chips from hospital events or microwave anemic Lean Cuisine pizzas or order huge pizzas quivering beneath a mountain of cheese and then talk, talk, talk about the merits of their lunches…those eating Lean Cuisines are “being good” that day while the women who caved to the call of Vocelli’s pan pizza are “being bad” but it’s okay because they will just eat grapefruit for dinner. And oh – dinner – how we talk about dinner! What we should eat versus what we will be eating, how if we just had time – that elusive way we measure our days – we would grill some fish and lightly steam some veggies but instead we end up picking up Mexican or Italian or Thai and then spend a few more hours feeling badly about the way we feed ourselves, the way we feed our families.

Privately, (and not so privately to those who know me well), I am wracked with food issues, which I will write about later in the month. But I grew up in a family with a father terribly concerned with his looks and his weight and he was always making us try this diet or that diet – foods constantly fell into different categories of “good” or “bad.” I recall my mom telling him time and time again he was going to ruin my relationship to food, and perhaps even my brother’s, if he didn’t stop forcing us on different “ways of life” but he steadfastly ignored her as as much as I adore my father for the hundred gifts he has given me throughout my life, from my passion for Yeats to my exhaustive knowledge of Stevie Ray Vaughn lyrics, I do at times resent all our conversations about food, and weight, and weight and food. I was pinpointed, almost from birth, as having my “fathter’s” genes…which meant I was prone to heaviness – the possibility of morbid obesity lurking just around the corner. My brother, on the otherhand, inherited my mother’s genes, which seemed to mean he could eat an entire turkey dinner and lose weight. I remember this in the same way I remember the smell of my mother’s Chanel No. 5 perfume and the taste of the cherries my grandmother would fish out of her Manhattans for me during cocktail hour. I remember.

Part of my decision to stop talking about the inherent goodness and badness of food, and to stop talking about my weight, came because S. and I hope to have a family, and I do NOT want to do this to my daughter if I have one. Surely she will be exposed to these kind of conversations someday, but I do not want her to ever see her mother engage in negative self-talk. I want her to remember, someday, the way I smelled and the treats I gave her and all the love in the world I had for her but I do not want her to ever recall me, standing in front of a mirror, sucking in my stomach, complaining about my weight, my hair, my face. I just – I do not want that.

I work concertedly everyday to not engage in these discussions, with my co-workers, with my husband, with myself, with my tremendously beautiful friends who are plagued with similar concerns, but more often than not, I fail. Why, I do not know. Maybe because food and weight are easier to talk about than anything else – maybe because eating should be a lovely way to fuel ourselves but instead, the choices each meal presents us with comes fraught with a thousand implications. I don’t know, but I do know I am going to try again, today.

For breakfast today I had a piece of spelt toast with peanut butter and the last of the raw honey from last summer, and a plateful of strawberries I bought at the farmers market last night. Today I will wear my black pencil skirt with a white blouse and my tortoise heels, and I will feel pretty. And I will try to not overthink lunch or dinner, and I will try to remember that right now, at 7:30 on Friday morning, I feel good, and I feel lovely.

Re-reading Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood

During the break I’m taking from my novel, I’ve been doing some background research and reading books I remember loving throughout my life to see why they “worked,” so to speak. One of the things I quickly realized is I have a bit of a fetish for books that take place in the South, and a huge fetish for books that take place in the South and somehow work in the Catholic church. I also really adore end-of-the-world novels but that is neither here nor there, today.

The first book I decided to re-read is Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood by Rebecca Wells (incidently she has a new book coming out this summer). I’m not sure when I first read this book but it was years ago, well before the movie came out, but I remembered it being an absolutely joyful read, a book I simultaneously didn’t want to end and couldn’t put down. Here is part of the blurb, in case you haven’t read it:

When Vivi and Siddalee Walker, an unforgettable mother-daughter team, get into a savage fight over a New York Times article that refers to Vivi as a “tap-dancing child abuster,” the fallout is felt from Louisiana to New York to Seattle. Siddalee, a successful theater director with a huge hit on her hands, panics and postpones her upcoming wedding to her lover and friend, Connor McGill. Vivi’s intrepid gang of lifelong girlfriends, the Ya-Ya’s, sashay in and conspire to bring everyone back together.

Actually a bit of a wet-blanket blurb – I remember the book being so much more than that.

At first, when I began re-reading, I wasn’t sure the book would hold up to that first read so many years ago. The first couple of chapters felt contrived, but I am now on page 81 and while reading it this time isn’t quite the magical read it was the first time, it is certainly helping me think through my own novel, which is the whole point, anyway. Thoughts so far…and if you haven’t read this and think you might, you might want to stop reading now…

1. The scrapbook Vivi lends Siddalee is actually what my professors would refer to as a writing “crutch” – the items in the scrapbook triggering the stories Wells chooses to tell. I have no problem with this and, in fact, have some discovered diaries in my novel, but they aren’t used to hold the book up in anyway. It’s possible I may choose to integrate them more fully into the the novel overall but I don’t know…the book isn’t all about those diaries, per se, you know?

2. Wells does an excellent job of integrating background information throughout scene, something I am pretty sure I failed to do in my first draft – upon rereading I imagine I’ll read a few pages of dialogue, then a few pages of scenery, then a few pages of summary.

3. Part of the reason I chose to reread this book is because I loved how Sandra Bullock, the actress who portrayed Siddalee in the movie – viewed her role. She said she was really around to channel the stories of the Ya-Ya’s, that she was more of a conduit through which the stories were told than a truly significant character. In the beginning of my novel I thought of Anna similarly but I now see that’s didn’t happen at all. The novel is all Anna, all of the time.

4. Wells tells her story basically in chronological order – I don’t think I did that in mine but I think maybe I should – mine has a chaotic feel to it.

5. The characterization in this novel is fantastic – I think one of my biggest challenges upon revision is going to be to cut pages of description and work on saying in one or two sentences what I said in a page.

So far re-reading from a more critical perspective is proving helpful in thinking through the revisions I’ll begin in late July. For now, I’ll leave you with one of the many great passages from this book:

Viz’tin. That’s what the Ya-Ya’s called their impromptu get-togethers when Sidda was a girl. The four Walker kids crammed into the T-Bird with Vivi, bombing into town to Caro’s or Teensy’s or Necie’s, pulling into the driveway, madly blowing the horn, shouting out “Yall better be home!” Then a batch of Bloody Marys appeared, and cream cheese with Pickapeppa and crackers, a gallon of lemonade and Oreos for the kids, Sarah Vaughan on the stereo, and a party. No planning, no calls in advance.

Okay…and this one, too…

These were the faces Sidda scanned for clues to the world from the moment she could see. She learned what clothes, movies, hair-styles, restaurants and people were “Ya-Ya” (read: charming) and which were “Ya-Ya-No” (read: pathetic). She had heard this so many times that she actually began to assess things to see whether they were “Ya Ya” or  “Ya Ya No.”

Resolution check-in

It’s hard to believe, but we are halfway through 2009 already. I actually feel as though this year has been nicely paced – I don’t it slipping through my fingers like I do some years – but it still moves a bit too quickly for what I would prefer. I didn’t do a quarterly check-in of my New Year resolutions this year and upon reviewing them I can see why – for the most part they are terribly broad resolutions, the kind of resolutions achievable by the end of the year perhaps but not the kind that can be neatly crossed off month by month. Still, I think June might be a nice month to talk about some of them more in depth and discuss why others simply aren’t going to work.  I’m not going to do that here, today – I mean, I just got back from a work trip to Florida and I keep getting these warning emails from IT that threaten to close my email down since it somehow has overflowed in my absence (am very, very important, if you didn’t realize this) and since one of my resolutions was to be on time for work, I am going to give you a preview of upcoming blog posts about various resolutions instead of writing about all of them in one.

My 2009 resolutions, with comments:

To quit smoking, once and for all (this has been achieved but it demands it’s own post – possibly two posts, about this addiction I have battled for much too long – suffice it to say I am no longer smoking but it is rather recent and it’s possible I’ll have to post about this in December instead of this month if I don’t feel ready – who knows?)

To develop a wardrobe I feel comfortable with and to take better care of my femininity – probably won’t post about this – comes down to the fact I don’t love shopping and the time it takes to have a kick-ass wardrobe, but I actually believe it’s important so I’m going to concentrate on this for the next six months or so. Maybe I will post pictures of clothes. That could be fun.

To synthesize all I’ve learned about exercise and eating and develop a lifestyle rather than continuously dieting – ug, I have such food issues. SUCH food issues. I am finally on my way with this, I think – blog post to come.

To stop all negative self- talk – ha hah ah hahahahahhahaha

To find a way to cease my hypochondriac tendencies – ha hahah ahahahahah

To become more fiscally responsible, with a new financial goal each month – this is ongoing but if I do say so myself I have been stellar in this regard. S. and I still can improve in areas, but we have budgets we work within, we put money away, and we are doing pretty well. Probably no post on this as it is boring and rude to talk about money.

To get back into theater – don’t think this is going to happen, at least in terms of returning to acting. Definite post.

To engage my inner academic – am not even sure what I meant by this but am pretty sure I haven’t done this yet

Find a church and attend regularly – no post – this is a second-part-of-the-year goal

Volunteer – Tried, failed – more on this, definitely

Be on time for work - generally I am now on time for work unless I allow my writing to bleed beyond seven in the morning.

Seems like a good guide to June – posts on the above, interspersed with posts on reading, maybe some pictures, perhaps some recipes, some memes and an award to give…do you ever need a guide to help you blog? Lately when I’ve been sitting down to blog my mind has gone blank but it isn’t because I don’t want to blog…so it helps me to make a list of things to blog about until the ideas start flowing without convincing. Interestingly, the less I am writing, the less I feel I have to blog about, which reinforces my opinion about writing begetting writing.

Off to answer all those emails and resume status as very important person…

C

Bullet Tuesday

I woke up early today with the intent to blog but I’ve been sitting in front of my computer screen for ten minutes and haven’t been able to come up with a topic that I feel ready to write about – I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m feeling a little bleary-eyed and out of sorts. A perfect time, I think, for bullets!

• I had my hairdresser give me a really short cut – he cut seven inches off my hair. I actually like it but it seems to be shocking everyone else. I did this partly because growing my curls out to look like Sarah Jessica Parker was not working, partly because I am trying for a more professional, grown-up look, and partly because it will be nice for summer.
• Sometimes I’m scared I’m never going to feel like a grown up. I am thirty two years old and I still feel like I’m in my early twenties. Part of the short haircut was a quiet hope it would push me into some sort of adulthood feeling, but no such luck. I would still rather cruise around town in torn jeans, a t-shirt and my backpack over designer heels, dressy clothes and a big handbag. I would still rather hang out with friends than do housework. Hmm – I guess most people probably feel this way, though…still, I feel like I’m about twenty-two.
• Gardening is hard. In fact I decided to stick with container gardening this year in order to get some practice before tilling a bunch of our backyard under for a larger vegetable garden. I just don’t have the experience to feel comfortable with a big garden right now. This makes me feel sort of sad because my dad and both my grandmothers are/were remarkable gardeners and I thought that  gene surely must have been passed down to me, so all I had to do was look at a seedling to understand its wants and needs, and it would grow all happy under my care. Turns out – um – not so much. This is going to take work.
• But I enjoy it enough to do the work.
• I made a strawberry rhubarb crumble this weekend from Barbara Kingsolver’s book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. I’m not going to post the recipe because I think you should all run out and buy the book but it is amazingly good. See how domestic I’ve become? Rhubarb crumbles! Gardening! That’s grown up, right?
• I’ve actually thought about re-titling this blog and call it stumbling towards adulthood but I am much too lazy to do so – I think I’ll just create a tag instead.
• I sort of wish Alice Waters would get off President Obama’s back. I mean, I am all for eating locally and organically and I agree a shift in the way we feed ourselves needs to happen, but I actually think the Slow Foods movement has gone a long way towards this and I just don’t think this is priority number one right now. For that matter, reversing the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy in the military isn’t, either. I mean, the man has to deal with multiple wars and a collapsing economy. He can get to school lunches down the road.
• And on the topic of politics, you know who has hit the ground running and totally knocked my socks off? Hillary Clinton. Damn, girlfriend. Instead of grousing around and going on all the political talk shows criticizing her one-time rival, she is just getting the job done. I am redonkulously impressed by her.
• John Edwards, though, has broken my heart.
• I am heading to Orlando on Friday for work purposes and have no idea where I should eat – all recommendations welcome.
• I have too much to do in the next three days and not enough time to do it. I hate that. I mean, I KNOW things always get done and they will get done but it really doesn’t feel like it right now, which is an annoying way to begin a week following a three-day weekend.
• Okay. Hmm. If I want to accomplish everything I need to do by Friday morning I’d best get off the internet and into some work clothes, right now. Seriously. More soonish.

The Literary Meme

I’ve seen this meme on too many blogs to count, and I’ve wanted to do it for quite some time.  A holiday Friday seems like a great time to tackle it because I’ve been sitting here for several minutes trying to decide what to blog about but my mind keeps wandering around to whether or not I’m going to get my hair cut short tomorrow, the planting I hope to do this weekend and the mojito recipe challenge my neighbors threw down last night. So, a meme it is! A lovely Memorial Day weekend to all who honor it – take the time to hug a serviceman or woman this weekend, if you can.

What author do you own the most books by?

Before I unpacked all of my books I would have sworn the answer to this question would be Pat Conroy but the actual answer is a tie between Shakespeare and Dickens. English major in college, you know.

What book do you own the most copies of?

The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde. I have six copies. NO idea why.

Did it bother you that those questions ended with prepositions?

No – it would only bother me if it was in a formal piece of writing. Otherwise, glass houses and stones, you know -

Which fictional character are you secretly in love with?

Patrick Kenzie from Dennis LeHane’s mystery series. And how many women did Mr. Darcy seduce years throughout the years? I don’t mind shamelessly waving my hand in response to that question.

Which books have you read the most times in your life?

Pride and Prejudice, Beach Music and Jane Eyre

What was your favourite book when you were ten years old?

I have no idea. Is that the age I would have read Bridge To Terabithea, A Wrinkle in Time or Where the Red Fern Grows? Those are three of my favorite books from my youth.

What is the worst book you’ve read in the past year? Firefly Lane – had to stop reading it, it was so awful. I also feel Janet Evanovich has really lost her touch in the last few years, too.

What is the best book you’ve read in the past year? The Given Day, by Dennis LeHane. An ASTOUNDING book. As my brother, my dad and I all noted, we didn’t want it to end.

If you could force everyone tagged to read one book, what would it be?

Lonesome Dove – it’s the book I gave my young sister-in-law who NEVER read for pleasure before – now she’s a reading fiend. I take personal responsibility for this achievement, although she did call me up to holler about the ending. Another one would be Animal, Vegetable, Miracle.

Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize for Literature?

Dennis LeHane

What book would you most like to see made into a movie?

The Dawn Patrol, by Don Winslow – I am also really, really excited to see Julie and Julia this August…who’s coming with me???

Which book would you least like to see made into a movie? Um,  Susan Sontag’s journals would make really a really crappy adaptation, I think.

Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book or literary character.

Until a few nights ago I would have said the time my friend Will took on the role of Mr. Darcy in one of my dreams and we had like eight kids and lived on a boat, but since I’m reading Power of the Dog I have to say the dream I had earlier in the week where I was lost in Mexico City and kept snorting cocaine, which I have never, ever done in real life. It was a HORRIBLE dream. HORRIBLE.

What is the most low-brow book you’ve read as an adult?  I recently tried a Jodi Picoult book – something with Mother and Sister in the title.  Just – no. No.

What is the most difficult book you’ve ever read?

Is Paradise Lost considered a book? If so, that.

What is the most obscure Shakespeare play you’ve seen? Dudes, I don’t go see the obscure ones if I can help it. But I did see one of the Richard plays once – don’t remember which one – but it was annoying. I LOVED King Lear in peformance.

Do you prefer the French or the Russians?

French. S. and I once spent a summer reading Camus. It was great.

Roth or Updike?

Updike. And have you heard, The Witches of Eastwick is going to be a television show this year? I am sure it’s going to be awful but you all know I’m going to watch it anyway.

David Sedaris or Dave Eggers?

Sedaris before all his stuff started getting published in the New Yorker.

Shakespeare, Milton or Chaucer?

Shakespeare!

Austen or Eliot?

Austen

What is the biggest or most embarassing gap in your reading?

I am not embarrassed in any way about my reading. That said, this summer I’m launching a reading project called Haunted by Hemingway – more details to come on that – and I hope anyone who wants to slowly read through Hemingway’s work and then a lot of the writers he influenced will join me.

What is your favourite novel? As everyone knows it used to be Beach Music but that has been replaced by either The Given Day or A Winter’s Tale – I am having a GREAT reading year.

Play?

Blythe Spirit, Noel Coward.

Poem?

The Lake Isle of Innisfree – (and I will have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow…)

Essay?

Jesus Shaves, by Sedaris. I mean, that last line? Never laughed so hard in my life. Never. I taught Me Talk Pretty One Day one semester (all the books I chose that semester centered around the different ways people communicate with one another) and as a class, when we got to the end, well, all conversation was just shot. Hilarity ensued.

I would be remiss in not mentioning the entirety of Didion’s The White Album, as well.

Short story?

Where are You Going, Where Have you Been – Joyce Carol Oates

Work of non-fiction?

The Year of Magical Thinking,  Didion

Who is your favourite writer?

This is an impossible question. Way too many to name – Pat Conroy, Dennis Lehane, Austen, Shakespeare, Yeats, Eliot – impossible question.

Who is the most overrated writer alive today?

Stephanie Meyer.

What is your desert island book?

The Stand, by Stephen King.

And… what are you reading right now?

Power of The Dog, by Don Winslow. It’s a novel about how Mexico ended up as a narco country. I am learning a tremendous about and the characters are compelling but it’s also incredibly depressing and violent.

Happy weekend, all!

Defeated by Technology Once Again

I had this grand plan, once I finished the first draft of my novel. I planned to print the whole thing out, place it next to the stacks of notes and research from the past two years, take a picture, and post said picture here, with “the end” as the title of the blog. It seemed like such a reward – to be able to share with all of you an actual picture of the completed project. I did not, however, realize I would finish it during the time S. is up at our cabin – he has our digital camera.

No problem, I thought to myself. I’ll just snap a picture with my blackberry.

But here is the problem, and here is why I have to find a way to become more self-sufficient: before S. left he changed the printer over to the fax function and no matter what I do I cannot figure out how to switch it back. I have tried everything – everything – except look a the manual, which I can’t find. I also realized that anyone who tries to call our home phone is receiving that obnoxious fax beep instead of reaching me. I have a cell phone so it’s no big deal but I really had high hopes for printing the novel and quite frankly I can’t believe I am so incompetent without my husband that I can’t figure out how to use the damn printer. I mean, I suppose if I had been the one to hook it up in the first place maybe I would know but seriously, this reminds me of the time back at my old job in Detroit when my boss, three co-workers and I all stood around the printer willing it to work with the strengh of our spirit because nothing else seemed to work when our administrative assistant came over, turned it off and then on again, looked at us and said “How many college degrees to you have between the five of you?” and then walked away in well-earned disgust.

Ever since we bought the house S. has been very worried about the potential things that could go wrong during his absences. He currently travels nearly every week for work and though we’ve had long discussions about whether he should leave his current job or not because of this travel, we have agreed he should keep it because (a.) he loves it and (b.) he’s being groomed for significant advancement in higher education and (c.) again, he loves it and changing jobs in this economy seems rather fool-hardy. But he worries because we purchased an old house and the old house, sensing perhaps this weakness of his, tends to show off whenever he happens to be home by springing roof leaks and flooding the basement. Nothing has happened (touch wood) while he’s been  gone thus far but I keep telling him I am a strong, independent woman perfectly capable of managing whatever may crop up in his absence but given the fact I can’t even figure out how to switch the printer into goddamn print mode perhaps his worry deserves more validation.

Anyway.

Instead of my grand plan I simply backed up the draft and updated my status on facebook and went to the salon to have my eyebrows waxed, which was satisfying in its own way.

So, I am done.  And it is just the weirdest feeling, to know that a draft of my novel sits on this very computer, awaiting revision.  No matter what happens – and I am well aware of all the obstacles against its success – I am absurdly proud of myself. I woke up almost every day for two years between five and six a.m. to work on this thing. I wrote the first half of it in Michigan and resumed the second half in Pittsburgh. Parts of it were written on business trips, in Los Angeles, Boston, Chicago, San Diego, New York, Philadelphia. I never stopped, even when other writing ideas beckoned to me. No matter how terrible I think it is when I reread it, it’s a little part of me that I’ve left behind, and that is supremely cool. I also proved to mysef that I can finish something outside the confines of school – technically, this is my second book written as an adult (I wrote a couple novels in high school but, meh, they were terrible) but the first was my MFA thesis.

Now I need a plan for the next several weeks. My plan is to ignore it until around the 18th of July, when the revision process will begin. There is plenty to do in the meantime. I’ve been torn as to whether I should turn my attention to other writing projects – perhaps revise an essay for submission or start a new piece, but I think at heart I’m a novelist at this point – all of the ideas that inspire me come in the form of fiction, and I don’t feel the need to force myself into another venue right now. So, the May 18th – July 18th plan:

(hey – I just realized – it’s S.’s birthday today! It may seem shoddy to say I only realized it now but he is up at the cabin and we will be celebrating when he returns and thus, it just didnt’ cross my mind until now. Happy 32, babe!)

1. Create make-shift yet proper writing space for revision. Currently both S. and I have been working at our island in the kitchen. In the current home-renovation plan, I doubt we will get to the office space by July (although we might!) but if we don’t I need to create a space to work propery on revision.

2. Conduct necessary research to properly enhance book, historically. This includes research into the Vietnam War (what precisely took place between 1967-70?), Black Hawk Down, post-traumatic stress syndrome and what events precisely took place during the summer after 9/11.

3. Read voraciously. Re-read favorite books critically, in an attempt to understand why they worked for me. Read bestsellers, to understand why they sell. Read classics for counter-effect of bestsellers.

4. Return to free-writing – this can be anything – new novel ideas, scenes for current novel – whatever strikes my fancy. I used to write all my first drafts by hand – that became impossible if I actually wanted to finish the novel. Reconnect with pen to paper – one page a day.

5. Organize and read old stuff from high school – journals, yearbooks, stories, etc – having the material organized for revision will feel great, but it will also help with the scenes from the book that take place in high school since the book partly about the strenght of first-love memories.

Okay. I think that’s a good list – a doable list, as well, actually. Time to get started, then.

this feels so weird!

He’s a collie, damnit!

When I saw Skylar’s scruffy little face on the Animal Friends website back in December, accompanied by his description as a “high energetic guy who needs lots of exercise who likes to sneak treats off counters,” I knew I wanted him. Immediately. I can’t tell you why other than there was something about his curious eyes and the tilt of his head , and the fact he’d been at the shelter for four months. Adopting from a shelter was actually pretty far outside my comfort zone – my dad is a bird hunter which meant throughout my life we’ve put deposits down with reputable breeders and, when the litter comes in, gone to pick out our puppy. I am used to bringing puppies home, all small and snuggly and determined to chew the house apart. But as soon as I saw Skylar’s photo I was convinced he was our dog. The bigger problem was convincing S. Fortunately for me, the website claimed Skylar was mostly a smooth collie, and if there is anything S. loves, it’s a collie. I sent him the link to Skylar’s page after a very intelligent discussion about how we had just moved into our house and we were hosting Christmas for God’s sake and we couldn’t just go adopting a dog, and if he was still available in January maybe we’d go look, we awoke the Saturday before Christmas, tree up, shopping done, groceries purchased, and S. grumbling “Well, we might as well at least go look at that damn dog.” And so we did. And we loved him. And we brought him home, and while he certainly has a few anxiety issues, it was one of the best decisions we ever made. Skylar is the best company – seriously, the best. He has totally won me over on the whole adopting a grown dog from a shelter thing. He has a few irrational fears that paralyze him still, like garbage day, the bringing of outside things in (I brought in a bunch of our plants since it was supposed to frost the other night and oh, holy hell), much of Liberty Avenue, but for the most part he has overcome all of the others, like stairs, and the dishwasher, and the grill.

S. swears he is practically purebred with little or no mutt in him, but the majority of people who encounter Skylar beg to differ. It irks S. a little bit because he recognizes Skylar’s behavior as collie behavior and his markings are very consistent with blue merle smooth collies, but there isn’t one person who has looked at Skylar and said Oh! Blue merle smooth collie! Of course! Guesses as to his heritage have run the gamut from greyhound to beagle to shephard to spaniel. I don’t care what he is – what he is, is just so sweet, but S. is convinced he is collie and that is good enough for me. For now, I leave you with some pictures – feel free to draw your own conclusions!