Interesting Theory

A Make-It-Work Moment

2011-11-08T08:42:00.001-05:00

A few years ago, I was drafted into sewing curtains for The Vault in Asheville, and dutifully (though with a bit of whining) threw myself into bolts upon bolts of fabric. Thankfully, I spent most of my time at the machine and not pounding grommets into yards of hems. The end result wasn't perfect, but it transformed the cinder block walls and achieved it's goal of softening the room and keeping the sound from bouncing around.

Then, wouldn't you know, after a few years, the fire marshal decided they were a fire hazard. (?!?) So, down they came. The room looks very cool now, with black leather wrap around couches which certainly provide a lot more seating for conversation with friends.

But what to do with all that fabric? I certainly couldn't let it all go to waste... So...

I turned the curtains into my Halloween costume! This picture was actually taken in a friend's kitchen, I just played around with photoshop a little bit. And I know, McGonagall's robe is supposed to be green, but this stuff just wouldn't dye (mixing in garlic and holy water didn't help either). My fingers take color quite nicely, though. Anyway. If you see me, or the three wise men in the church pageant, wearing a lot of maroon crushed velvet this Christmas, just think of it as creative frugality.

I should add that I made the costume using this technique found in Wendi Gratz's fantastic sewer/crafter's blog.

Writer Friends

2011-11-01T09:06:00.000-04:00

My talented writer-friend Cathy Larson Sky took some time to interview me and compile this wonderful piece published in the November issue of Western North Carolina Woman. She taped and transcribed and re-arranged (for coherency) my thoughts on becoming a writer. Thankfully, she edited out the number of times I say "like" --- because, like, it's a LOT. I guess I'm not as articulate on the spot as I thought I was... (It reminds me of the phrase you can take a girl out of the mountains, but you can't take the mountains out of the girl... Except in my case it's clearly the valley! Sheesh.)

I'm also engaged in another adventure with yet another writer-friend (Stephanie Stark Poling). And, if you hadn't seen it already in the side bar, we've started a new blog to chronicle our collaborative efforts. We are writing a play set to be staged at the Parkway Playhouse in September of 2012: Between the Tackles.

In fact, right now I'm supposed to be writing that play... but I'm procrastinating... Maybe I'll update that blog over there next.

Calling for Words

2011-10-21T09:02:00.000-04:00

Last spring, I attended a training session given by Mimi Herman at Penland School of Crafts for a program called SUBS with SUITCASES. The premise of the program is that artists (and others) lament the fact that because of budget and staff cuts, arts education is diminishing in schools. So, instead of just sitting around whining about it, they've come up with a brilliant plan to work within the existing system: namely, substitute teachers. What the program does is train art professionals to be subs, then when they are called, they are already prepared, suitcase full of materials in hand, to give an art lesson.

If teachers know when they're going to be gone, they can work with the sub ahead of time so the art lesson is related to classroom content. However, even if you call one of these subs last minute, they will have prepared lessons ready to go. As a former classroom teacher, calling in sick was always something I dreaded... because it usually meant more work than the misery of being in the classroom while ill. You had to prepare all this "busy work" for the sub and then grade it all afterwards! But with this system, teachers would have far less to pre-absence (and post-absence) work, making choosing one of these subs much more desirable. PLUS, think about the children! Instead of busy work, they're using a different part of their brain, appealing to other learning styles, and adding back in a missing component of their education.

Most of the subs in this program are visual artists, though there are some musicians... and then me, the writer. It's is somewhat difficult to distinguish between "arts writing" and regular "school writing," but I am coming up with some any-age creative writing activities to pull out of my suitcase.

The one I'm working on now is a spin-off of magnetic poetry, but I'm just going to have the words on laminated cardstock. Right now, I'm trying to figure out what words I should include.

So, here's how you can help:
1. If you have old Altoid tins, give them to me. : ) I'll need about 25.
2. What words spark your imagination?

Open to the New

2011-10-17T12:44:00.002-04:00

Here is evidence I am open to something new in my life.

The other day, while my daughter was at soccer practice, I walked down to the post office to mail off a writing-contest entry.

Upon entering, I saw they had the old-fashioned mailboxes, some which even had combination locks to open them instead of keys. I gasped internally. The slant of late afternoon sun made them appear like a bank of golden carvings. At night, I still routinely dream of opening my college mailbox, turning the dial in anticipation of what might be inside. I think it also goes back to my fascination with small containers. (See the post below.)

Regardless, as I stood in line waiting to weigh my package, I noticed that one of the mailboxes was available for rent. It was even one of the doors that required a combination. If you look closely, you'll notice there aren't numbers to mark the revolutions, but letters!

I left that day without renting the box--just to make sure I really wanted it--which it turns out I did.

So, you may now send me mail at:

Britt Kaufmann

PO Box 863

Micaville, NC 28755

I promise to write a return note/postcard to anyone who sends me mail there. (I can hardly wait!)

I also blame Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See which tells the story of two foot-bound Chinese women who are sworn friends for life. (Link for photos of foot-binding--not for the faint of heart.) For centuries, Chinese women were not able to walk from the house to converse with old family and friends, so were essentially confined to the homes of their husband's for life. To combat the loneliness, they developed a secret written language. Nu shu was taught in the women's room, mother to daughter, a written phonetic language... unknown to men. A written language, created by women, for women, to maintain their friendships, to chronicle their lives, joys and despair. While the nu shu is still being taught to preserve a cultural heritage, it is no longer a secret, nor does it have a practical application, since women are mobile and permitted to learn men's language.

As a lover of words and sneakiness, I find this heartbreaking. (Though I would not advocate the return of such circumstances that found this language useful.) I guess, having my own post office box is an attempt at reclaiming a part of that intentional communication. These nu shu writings, embroidered on handkerchiefs or written on fans, were often burned upon a woman's death to carry messages of her into the afterlife. But some are preserved. Nu shu was written with great care, in concise, formal, numbered syllabic patterns. As much as we now depend on blogs, email, and facebook to communicated to loved-ones far away, I lament the temporality of it all. (And I readily admit the fact I'm addicted to all three.) This "writing" will not last, even as nu shu has done. As a writer I wish for communication where we thoughtfully consider what we write, focus on the intimate details of self-expression and audience... not simply reposting willy-nilly the blatherings of others.

Also, there is something to be said for an artifact in hand--for anticipation, instead of instant feedback: spin the dial between my fingers, feel the resistance of the cogs, the hinge swinging open... a letter from a friend sliding out into my waiting imagination.

Collections

2011-10-13T13:15:00.000-04:00

I'm sure I was a hoarder in another life, but in this one I've managed to keep it mostly under wraps. But anyone who's been to my house knows I have a thing for small containers. Sometimes I threaten my demands upon death will be cremation and then dispersal of my ashes into all my various boxes. Then anyone who wants a piece of me is welcome to it.

Lately, I've been thinking about death a lot. Or maybe not so much about death, per se, but about our quality of living, about our expectations of life... and about grieving. A friend of mine from college found out a month ago she has... oh, I probably won't get all the terminology right... but suffice it to say, she's got cancer bad. She has three young kids, like me, lived on the same dorm floor I did in college, got married the same summer I did... we even had our first teaching jobs at the same high school... and she took my mother's old job, when my mother became conference minister. I read her blog every morning. Read how she hopes her youngest son will have memories of her. (I keep a tissue box next to my computer now.) It's reconnected me with some college friends... and it turns out my old roommate is also dealing with the impending cancer death of her mother-in-law. And then, news reached me that one of our college professors was murdered in his home.

And me. I am far away. With enough time to contemplate how tenuous it all is. I could lock my doors and get a security system, yes, but that wouldn't keep out cancer. With all this time I have, I wonder if I am doing enough in this world or if I am doing too much. Most days, feeling both is the only balance I achieve.

Ahhh! Literary Festival

2011-09-02T12:31:00.000-04:00

So... I've been doing little bit of work on the Carolina Mountains Literary Festival lately. (Not only do I need a sarcastic font, but after writing the last sentence, I'll also be calling for the gross-understatement font.)

Here... I'll give you a taste of what I've been up to:

Graphic Design

Maintaining the Literary Festival Blog:

Actually, very few of these entries are written by me, but by a host of local writers who have taken the time to review work of the authors who coming to the literary festival. Some really good books are represented. I've been trying to post a review a day.

Press Release Queen:

Which press release do you want? The generic one, or the one focusing on the film, or kids' activities, or authors who you might mistakenly overlook, or the one of interest to visual artists? And did I mention that these press releases have landed me radio spots and ACK! a live TV studio interview. ... and answer to the #1 question: When will it air? is "Well, considering it waslive and I did it at noon on Wednesday... it's already aired." Thank heavens I didn't tape it and they haven't posted it online (even though I half-heartedly requested it). I really have no desire to be confronted with not meeting my own standards.

THANK GOODNESS!

I am not involved in of any fundraising, money-handling, schedule-making, volunteer finding, food preparation, or venue organizing! And thank goodness for those volunteers who are!

Now, since I'm also presenting this year, I suppose I'd better figure out which poems I'm going to read!

Guest Blogging

2011-07-14T07:04:00.003-04:00

I've had two recent "guest blogger" gigs that you might want to read, since you're here.

The first was for Cheek Teeth the official blog of the literary magazine Trachodon. This is a great blog for writers wanting to think about craft -- it also includes a fair amount of flash fiction and essays of interest. Here's the permalink to my post about seeing my first play produced & click here to see what's new on their site.

The second is about my summer adventures in raising chickens at the blog 100 Memoirs. This blog is kept by a former college professor Shirley Showalter and is a collection of short memoirs, thoughts on writing memoir, and reviews of new and important work in that genre. Here's the permalink and here you can see her latest post.

And how the chicken saga has continued! I'll post updates soon...

In Praise of MiLo Acres

2011-07-07T18:42:00.007-04:00

First of all, take a look at this meal my husband and I cooked! Then I'll regale you with all the mouth-watering details.

The meat is grilled salmon topped with a sauce of dill, mustard, leeks, white wine and butter. In the center top are homefries-style potatoes and onions with garlic in the same dill-mustard sauce. There is also a wedge of lemon and several slices of cucumber -- which are pretty obvious, but you'll understand why I mention them later.

Finally, there is a salad of braised Swiss chard topped with pickled beets, onions and garlic. (To pickle them, I julienned onion, beets and garlic and left them to soak in balsamic, red, and rice vinegars with salt, pepper and honey.) No, I did not see this as a recipe anywhere, it just seemed right to my taste-buds' imagination... and I do believe they proved themselves right. I will be making this again! And see how pretty it looks sitting there on my plate.

The real kicker is that all the ingredients listed in bold above came in our CSA box from MiLo Acres. CSA stands for Community Supported Agriculture -- and the premise is that consumers pay local farmers up-front so they have the funds to get their gardens started and in return they provide, in our case, a weekly box of garden produce. The food is fresher, there is less gas used for transportation, and our stuff is organic, too.

Instead of wishing our current system were different, I'm putting my money where my mouth is. If you don't like big agri-business, support an alternative. It's good, old-fashioned trust: I trust that they will do the best they're able to within the confines of weather and pests, and they have not let our family down. The owners of MiLo Acres take classes, work long hours, and balance the box with a wide variety of vegetables and fruits -- some of which I would never have chosen on my own. I would have never bought beets at the farmer's market, but I'm glad I've learned how to cook with them. As an added bonus, our family is a lot healthier for getting the box. First, because the vegetables are healthier for us, and secondly, because I use so many more vegetables than I would normally -- either experimenting, or avoiding waste.

Granted, I know and love the owners of MiLo Acres dearly, but they do such a fantastic job I can't help but to rave every now and then. Particularly after a good meal, like tonight's--in which the majority of the substance and flavors came from their farm.

Writing Weekend

2011-07-03T20:21:00.006-04:00

So, I'm on a writing weekend trying to knock out some new work despite a desk positioned right in front of a mirror. Focus. Focus. (Not on my hair.)

I've gotten my morning pages written every day, written a piece that will soon appear on Cheek Teeth Blog, and have made more "thinking progress" on the new play-in- progress.

I haven't written a follow-up about the play, but the good news is the guest blog post will go into some of that. And I'll write more about it later.

In other good news, I had a essay on ramps appear in the July issue of WNC Magazine. There are several good pieces in that issue by writers I know: Glenis Redmond, Brian Lee Knopp, and Vicki Lane.

photo by Misha Gravenor

Trailer - Part IV

2011-05-27T15:22:00.002-04:00

Dialect - Part III

2011-05-27T07:28:00.002-04:00

Once I had the plot in place, it was time to put words in the characters mouths. That presented all sorts of problems. First, I have not immersed myself in the letters/diaries/newspapers of the day to even come close to approximating the speech of the time period. Secondly, these were mountain characters and I wanted them to sound Mountain. So, I made the goal of not having them sound Civil War Era, but to simply sound like Yancey County -- to the best of my abilities.

But heavens knows my abilities are limited. (Shoot. I was a high school English teacher from the Midwest!) I don't sound the least bit mountain, though I always pay attention to language. (Like how folks in Yancey County say "I've not..." rather than "I haven't..." I love that!) I really like the idioms, new words, and speech patterns of the mountains, but I wasn't sure I could get it right. In fact, I'm still not sure I got it right. (Fortunately several of the cast are from here and they have helped immeasurably, even calling their mothers and mamaws to make sure I've got it right.)

To begin, I read Horace Kephart's chapter on Mountain Dialect and wrote down words that I thought were awesome (like golmed and slaunchwise) that I absolutely had to use. Then I watched several YouTube videos that exemplified speech patterns and accents (one with playwright Gary Carden). And then, I'll confess, I would go out to eat all by myself at 'Lil Smoky's in town and just listen to the oldtimers talk to each other of a morning. Then, maybe, I'd hear it in my head long enough that I could go home and write.

As much as I know "writing in dialect" is not the best, you would truly lose one of the great things about Yancey County if you would perform this play without the Mountain lilt and twang. So I wrote it like I heard it, and later went back and cleaned up and standardized some of the spellings. Like fire is spelled fire, though everyone from hear knows to call it far. And flour is spelled flour, though the cast says it correctly as flar. But I did keep kilt and ruint spelled as such.

The longer I live here, the more turns of phrase I could incorporate. So would I rewrite it yet again? The short answer is: I wouldn't care to. And if you're from Yancey, you know that means I would be more than happy to do so.

Super Photo for the Play

2011-05-20T12:03:00.002-04:00

Such a great press photo. They've totally captured their characters.

Researching the Play - Part II

2011-05-20T08:02:00.006-04:00

I have the great fortune of being friends with Charles F. Price, a historical fiction novelist, who wrote a distinguished series of four novels set in Western North Carolina during the Civil War and Reconstruction. While his books are fiction, he researches meticulously, obsessively so that he is certain he has got it as close to right as possible. The dialog, the structure of the novel, and some of the characters are imagined, but the setting, the historical context, and locations are all grounded in solid research.

As not only a friend, but a mentor, there was no way I could look him in the eye if I wrote a play that grossly distorted the documented facts. So I needed to be sure I knew what those facts were. Fortunately, he was also a great resource and photocopied from his own personal library several passages that aided greatly in my research.

Two of the historians most helpful to me are well known in WNC region and in Yancey County: Dr. Lloyd Bailey (editor of the series Heritage of the Toe River Valley) and Michael Hardy (a reenactor for 28 years and author of a wealth of books on the Civil War). Plus Michael Hardy keeps up a fantastic blog full of information and musings that I found fascinating. Now whether these two actually approve of the play remains to be seen. I will not speak for them. I'm simply saying I read their work in an effort to be accurate and took inspiration from it.

I did confess to Michael that I'd written a romantic comedy about the Civil War, but I'd put no actual historical figures on stage. He deservedly called me "chicken." But I didn't want to misrepresent a real person. I simply wanted to take what I found as a fascinating chain of events and make the

history entertaining. I wanted it to come to life in an enjoyable, memorable way and for those strong women to live again, however briefly, even if it was just on stage. No one knows their names, but their blood still runs in these families here in Yancey County. Being a mother is tough work (if you're going to do it right), and I guess I hoped to prove to all of us here, we've got what it takes to do it.

Resources Used in Writing the Play:

“A Female Raid” Carolina Watchman (Salisbury, North Carolina), Monday, March 23, 1863. Accessed from Learn NC website. <http://www.learnnc.org/lp/pages/4187>.

“Audio Excerpts : The Homefront: Hardships of War” North Carolina Museum of History. 2005. Web. .

Bailey, Lloyd. The Heritage of the Toe River Valley: Volume II. Lloyd Richard Bailey, 1997.

Bumgarner, Matthew. Kirk’s Raiders: a notorious band of scoundrels and thieves. Piedmont Press, 2000.

Hardy, Michael C. The Ca. 1849 McElroy House: A Glimpse of Yancey County, North Carolina's History. Donning Company Publishers, 2004.

Kephart, Horace. Our Southern Highlanders. Outing Publishing Company, 1913.

Official Records of the Union and Confederate Armies. Series I. Vol. 53. Supplement. Serial No. 111. Broadfoot Publishing Company, 1995.

Trotter, William R. Bushwhackers: The Civil War in North Carolina (Volume II: The Mountains). John F. Blair, 1988.

Yearns, W. Buck. North Carolina Civil War Documentary. University of North Carolina Press, 1980.

Writing the Play - Part I

2011-05-18T11:21:00.002-04:00

In the fall of 2009, I got to create a panel for the Carolina Mountains Literary Festival which featured Alan Gratz (author of several YA novels including Fantasy Baseball) and Susan Woodring (author of Traveling Disease). I knew both of them were parents, and as the moderator of the panel (who at that point had only published a handful of poems), I wanted to badger them about how they did it: wrote and parented young, still-underfoot children. Turns out that we all have daughters the same age, and while there is only one Gratz child and two Woodrings, both of the writers were primary caregivers and home-schooled. WHAT!?! And they have published books?

This is where I play my "but I have twins too" card.

But I came away from that with the sense that what they had (that I was missing -- besides a published book) were editors & agents--folks who gave them deadlines to meet. I needed deadlines and someone to be accountable to.

So, I struck up a conversation with the guy who had an office right next to my writing office. The guy happened to be Andrew Gall, artistic director of the Parkway Playhouse. Writing a play is something I'd never done, but it seemed like an interesting experiment: how do you write ONLY DIALOG to reveal character and action? This was, perhaps, how I was going to create artificial deadlines and get myself an editor.

"I was thinking..." I ventured hesitantly into the conversation, "that if I wrote a one-act play, could you maybe read it and tell me what you think? If you have time." After all, he does run a theater company, direct plays, teach at the community college and have young children.

His reply was prompt: "Don't mess around writing a one-act play. Write a whole play."

What?! I began pulling excuses from any and everywhere. "But I've never written a play before!" I declared.

"Here," he said fishing through his bookshelf and pulling out a copy of Blake Snyder's Save the Cat. "I use this when I teach. It'll tell you everything you need to know and help you figure out the pacing."

"But I don't even know what to write about!" I continued. You would think that I hadn't started this conversation and asked for this very thing.

"I do," he returned. "You know this whole 'Battle of Burnsville' thing the reenactors do every April? I think it was really a bunch of women stealing sugar. Look that up."

I did and he was wrong. They actually stole wheat. But the sparse history of the event sparked my imagination.

2011-05-17T13:36:00.002-04:00

Stay tuned for more on how all this came to be.

Trouble & Goals Reached

2011-05-16T09:15:00.003-04:00

So, the day after I decide to get back to regular posts, Blogger is down. Ha!

This weekend I completed several goals by running the BFF 5K. The first goal it met was last year's New Year's resolution to run 2 5Ks in the course of a year. So, even though it's only 1/2 way through the year, I've run two. The first was the Shamrock 5K when I finished with a time of 29:50 meeting my usual goal of "under 30." This time, however, since I was running another race on the heels of the Shamrock, I decided that (barring injury or terrible weather) I should try to get closer to 29 than 30. Which I did! 29:14.

The bummer was that I got passed by someone in my age group right at the very end. Otherwise I would have finished first in my age-group. But no. She beat me by 2 seconds, and I'll tell you, I did not have it in me to sprint with her to the finish line. I probably could have, but I was not going to puke at the end. My kids, my husband, my pastor and one of my best friends were all there and I was not, NOT, going to create that lasting memory for everyone.

Wow. Since February?

2011-05-12T13:59:00.000-04:00

Guess I'd better break the ice. I just kept putting it off... but I think now I'll make the goal to post something, even tiny, every day for a week.

The big news at our property has to do with our hen who sat on 7 eggs and hatched 7 chicks that are all still alive a week and half later! There are four which we believe will be colored like the mama, two pale yellow ones and one little penguin. In an effort to break our own hearts, we have already begun naming them (Cleopatra, Penguino, Miss Mini...). We can't seem to help it. Maybe it's the poet in me that wants to name things, and then, once they're named, I feel more deeply about them. It's dangerous. And wonderful. I can spend so much time watching them peep about, running their tiny beaks through their new feathers, tipping their heads up to let water fall down their little throats, imitating their mother by scratching their feet across the ground before pecking at a bit of food, flapping their stubs of wings to help them regain their balance or jump up on a fallen log...

They're probably all roosters.

Latest Publication-- A Peace Poem/Prayer

2011-02-21T15:20:00.003-05:00

My latest poem "Create Peace" is actually a prayer and you can find it here at the Mennonite Church's Peace and Justice Support Network website. There are other wonderful prayers (and resources) for those interested in praying and acting for peace.

How The Help Helped

2011-02-20T16:58:00.003-05:00

After reading The Help by Katherine Stockett, I was motivated to do some unusual things around the house. First, I polished my silver. I pulled the putty from the laundry room closet, along with an old t-shirt and headed to my jewelry box. No, I don't own any real silver vases or silverware or any "real" niceties, but I have several pair of tarnished earrings and a few necklaces and pendants. So I stood there, daubing and rubbing, watching the shine emerge and the black accumulate on the rag. It's tedious work, but I like the tangible, aesthetically pleasing results. Much more satisfying than laundry for me.

Second, I scrubbed the floors in my bedroom and dining room on my hands and knees. Good Heavens the crazed things I do because of literature.

See, I really dislike cleaning. Enough so that I have "help" come in to do the cleaning. Often this embarrasses me. But I really don't like it, though I like living in a (relatively) clean house. Once, though, a writer friend absolved me of my guilt saying that not everyone can write... so if I can, leave the cleaning to someone who finds satisfaction in it. Indeed, Skeeter didn't do much cleaning in her life. I found, reading the book, that I identified with many of the characters: the woman with the little kids who pays for help so that she can "volunteer" elsewhere; Skeeter, who wants to be a writer and write something important; and sometimes even Aibileen, who listens to children and tries to fill their heads so full of good thoughts it will carry them into a good adulthood.

This, though, is the passage that has made the biggest impression on me:

"We all on a party line to God, but you, you setting right in his ear."

This is Minny talking to Aibileen about putting someone on her prayer list, which Aibileen keeps in a little notebook. It made me think about how cool that'd be to sit in God's ear. And after mulling this idea over a while, I figured there's nothing to keep any of us from sitting there except climbing up there with focused prayer. That's what Aibileen did, kept a list and wrote her prayers -- which took her about an hour a night. So, I found a little notebook in my office -- because I dearly love getting little notebooks, though I have no idea what I could possibly write that would fit in a little notebook. It's a tiny bit of a thing, maybe 1.5 x 3" and only 12 sheets of paper. But I filled in a list of names on that first page and it's like Aibileen says on the page before the above quote: "And the next and the next. Cause that's the way prayer do. It's like electricity, it keeps things going." I have already noticed that electric continuation... and have a few new names to add to the list.

Groan.... Running

2011-02-16T14:57:00.005-05:00

Once again, the only way I can motivate myself to keep in shape is to sign up for a 5K -- the 5th Annual Asheville Shamrock Run. This time, though, I've actually printed out a calendar with a daily training program. Each day has written on it what I'm supposed to run... Today, thankfully, is a rest day.

Yesterday was not. In fact, I'm impressed I accomplished yesterday's training -- 10 minutes of warm-up, 6x400m at 10 seconds below my goal pace with slow 400s in between. Then an 800 to cool down. Added together, it was just over 4 miles. After my first 400 at a 9 minute mile pace, I decided running was for the birds and started the rhythmic chant "I hate this" in time to my heavy footfalls. I did get it all done, though, and kept the 9 minute pace. I'm hoping all this pays off since I sure don't enjoy the process.

At least it allowed me to devour my Valentine's Day chocolates without the slightest twinge of guilt.

I'd like to finish the race under 30 minutes... and training for a 9 minute mile would put me way under 30 minutes. However, the race's logo makes me suspect that it could be a much hillier course than I run on the treadmill. Ugh. Hills.

Joint Show Coming Soon...

2011-01-27T14:02:00.005-05:00

Alicia and I have been talking for some time now about doing a joint project-- poetry and photography--and now we're just waiting for the details to fall together. Namely, we're waiting for my chapbook to arrive from the publisher and her to finish shooting and framing. (The publisher says the printer is running two weeks behind, so that means they should ship at the end of next week!)

Alicia is the photographer who took my portrait for the book cover. I got to know her and her work when we had offices beside each other at the Heritage Center. Her photographs struck me because of how she captured the everyday beauty of people and landscapes. She honors the past of these mountains with the technology of the present and with an eye of someone truly paying attention. (I think there are a lot of similarities between poets and photographers -- images, story, framing, cropping.) I knew I wanted her to "make my picture" for the book. Additionally, she is pure Yancey County: a love for her art, horses, family, outdoors and the mountains.

So I issued her a cautious challenge... would she want to try to photograph what images came to her after reading through my collection of poems, since my poems are about moving to the mountains? She agreed.

Here are a few sneak peeks she shared with me:

Check out more of her work at aliciajophoto.com

And stay tuned for when our joint show will be! I'm excited.

Ironies

2011-01-26T11:36:00.001-05:00

The cat eats the dog food.

The dog eats the cat food.

The chickens will not walk on snow, but will stand outside in sleet.

The school's automated system calls us when we have a full day of school.

Excuses and Resolutions (old and new)

2011-01-19T09:22:00.004-05:00

Perhaps it was the seven snow days, one "vacation" and a 3 hour delay in January that has kept me from posting in this new year. (And before that is was the almost-dislocated shoulder and general holiday business & lethargy...) Though I suspect it was the feeling that I should evaluate the year 2010 in regards to the goals I set for myself.

Frankly, I did not do so great.

I did watch less "live" TV... but got addicted to Netflix instant downloads of TV shows I'd missed the first go-round: Farscape, True Blood, and my most recent favorite Firefly. I think it has one of the best TV marriages I've seen in a long time. (See pic to the left... great cast featuring stars from Alias, Chuck, V, Buffy, Castle, The Cape...) Anyway...

My goal of reading 40 books fell somewhat short at 36. Which is still 3 a month. And I'll renew that goal for 2011, having already read Girl Meets God and Tinkerers this January.

My goal of running in two 5Ks also didn't happen. I ran one in the spring, but I never did run one in the fall. In my defense, I was not just sitting on my butt. I still ran and could have run a 5K -- I was back up to that distance... I just didn't work out to enter and run a road-race.

2010 was big in other ways that promise to make 2011 quite the year. My chapbook of poetry was accepted for publication (and should be arriving in the mail any day now!). And my play An Uncivil Union: The Battle of Burnsville was put on the schedule for the Parkway Playhouse's summer run. (June 3 - 11) So, 2011 is going to be a new kind of challenge for me... Instead of stewing about getting my work out there, I will need to figure out how to deal with the opinions of others about my work.

My goals are to approach 2011 with a sense of humility. To remember the challenges and doubt of 2010, and thus approach what comes next with gratitude.

Yes, I want to try to read 40 books again, continue to publish (or at least continue putting my work out there) and maybe instead of running two 5Ks, work on rehabbing my body: weak shoulder, knees (patella femoral pain) and heel (plantar fasciitis). (oooh - how cool is that? a word with a double I... The only other one I knew was "skiing.")

May 2011 be a year of not falling apart and putting myself back together, stronger than before.

Review of "Eggtown and Other Stories" by Zack Clark Allen

2010-11-09T07:51:00.007-05:00

In his collection of op-eds and poems Eggtown and Other Stories, Zack Clark Allen gently reminds his readers of what ought not to be forgotten. He even writes of himself and his role within the family, “Looking back was a job that fell to me…” Look back he does.

Allen’s pieces, written when he was a thirtysomething, and the short introductions to them, written thirty years after that, are a remembrance wrapped in a reflection. He explores his own childhood, the stories of his grandparents, the mountains of Western North Carolina, Asheville, and its many citizens, both living and passed on, who he encountered in his years working at the Asheville Citizen-Times. Also, because he cannot help being an editor, he comments on his earlier writing style and gives contextual background for the many stories.

He freely admits what he writes is nostalgic, yet he deftly wields his clear images and poignant, everyday dialog so that he does not stray into the sentimental. The bad, along with the good, bear remembering and he includes both. Allen observes like a poet, seeing the connections, philosophies, symbols, and details in life—and plays with the best words to re-present them to his readers. Yet he pursues story like a newspaperman. Both qualities are evident in his writing: vivid brevity with a depth of emotion and meaning.

In the temporary newspaper world, much of what he had written might have become lost and forgotten but for this collection of his finest work. It puts one in the mind of Shakespeare’s words:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

By the time readers reach the final words of Allen’s last poem, they will be ready to take up his charge—or at least lend the book to a friend.

Now I pass it on to you;

Hold it, and its story

in trust for all of us.

Zack and I will read together on Thursday, November 11 @ 7pm in the Library Annex in Burnsville, NC. You are invited.

I would also like to make a recommendation as to how to read Zack's book. I read it straight through so that I could write the review, but I don't know that I'd recommend this as a one-sitting read. Spread it out, reading a chapter or two at a time, so that you have the chance to absorb and reflect on the stories. Additionally, it might not hurt to have a box of tissues close for some of them.

Kirkin' o' the Tartan

2010-11-07T10:11:00.008-05:00

A few weeks ago our pastor led us in a Kirkin' o'the Tartan ceremony at our church. Coming from a German Mennonite background, this was all new territory for me. She explained it, and I've done a little research on my own aside from experiencing it:

The "Kirkin' o' the Tartan" is actually a bunch of brigadoonery. (I had to look that word up too... but basically it means faux-Scottish -- like the musical Brigadoon.) Nonetheless, it has become an important American tradition to honor Scots-American families.

It began in 1941 when Peter Marshall, Reverand of the New York Avenue Presbyterian Church in Washington D.C., created and held a ceremony in which members of the congregation brought their tartans and they were blessed. Apparently this is not something that ever happened in Scotland, though it is widely practiced in the United States now. The purpose of the original service was to be a fundraiser to support Scottish churches and England during the early part of WW II. One is still held every year at the National Cathedral.

But for all its brigadoonery, it was a very meaningful service for our church in many ways.

First, many of the congregants are from Scotts-Irish decent and dressed their whole families in their family plaid (some even came in kilts). In particular, one of our older memebers who is 92 was actually born in Scotland, and I think hearing the bagpipes during the service and the having the blessing said over his family tartan moved him immensely. (At least it moved the rest of us thinking about it from his perspective!) But not all of us had tartans to hang. So, that's where we adapted a bit. The previous week, each family was given a square of cloth to make into a family banner.

Some families chose a symbol to represent themselves, some painted pictures or made collages, and several copied their family crests. We were all invited to bring our banners and they would be hung around the church during the service.

I was amazed at the level of participation.

It didn't take me long to figure out what our family "tartan" would be. Obviously it needed to be pieced and quilted! How Mennonite is that? Back when we'd lived in South Bend, I'd pieced curtains for our kitchen that I hadn't re-used yet, so I knew I had my background. (Yes. It's true, I just happened to have some spare pieced pinwheel quiltop laying about the house. That's how Mennonite I am.) But that wouldn't do by itself. It needed the peace dove apliqued on top and it needed to be quilted to truly represent. I had those materials sitting around the house too: batting, a big tension hoop, spare muslin, a thimble, and quilting needles. I felt quite pleased with the result, though admitting so is probably the least Mennonite part of the whole endeavor.

Secondly, though I hadn't realized fundraising was an inherent part of a Kirkin o' the Tartan, we had did have a special meal after. (No, there was no haggis served.) Since our church is much like a fusion restaurant anyway, it should almost be predictable we'd have a Guatemalan meal to raise money for scholarships of the students in our sister church there.

But it was more than that. Our pastor was retiring after 11 years of growing a church from a handful of members to a church body that has to split into two services in the summers because there isn't enough room in the parking lot for all our cars. In this service, she was able to bless our tartans, our families, and the larger clan we have formed as a church. Because each region of Scotland has different herbs which died the wool different colors and different weavers chose unique patterns, the tartan has long been a symbol of regional identity as well as love, togetherness, and protection.

Then, at one point in the service, she had us look around at our "tartans": There we all were, displayed for everyone. Each of us. We are the church. This is who we are. Yes, we were losing a leader, but look -- look -- we are here, all of our families choosing this place to worship, loving each other, loving God, and working to share that love with the world. That would continue.

Reading Scheduled

2010-10-29T11:39:00.005-04:00

A Celebration Of Words:
Kaufmann, Allen To Read From Their Recent Work

Authors Zack Allen and Britt Kaufmann will hold a joint reading of their works at 7pm on November 11 in the Library Annex. All ages are welcome for this free reading of their stories and poetry.

Poet Britt Kaufmann’s chapbook of poetry was recently selected for publication by Finishing Line Press (Georgetown, KY). The collection of poems loosely chronicles her move from the Midwest to the mountains of Western North Carolina and calling a new place home. Included in the chapbook is the poem “These Lost Counties” which was written for and read at the 2008 Carolina Mountains Literary Festival.

Yancey County novelist Charles F. Price praises Kaufmann’s poems: “Transplanted to Southern Appalachia, she turns clear eyes on our abandoned tobacco barns, rock-ribbed heights, hardscrabble farms, tough good people. She sees a simple beauty in our rusticity. Whimsy, warm wisdom, a mother’s love, a good heart’s aspirations all live in these spare yet intricately woven lines; one hears unheard the four-part a capella harmony of her Indiana Sundays even as our mountain seasons turn, our rivers rise, our folk speak their highland talk.”

Kaufmann has lived in Yancey County for the last seven years and has served on the planning committee for the Carolina Mountains Literary Festival for five years. Her poems and prose have been published in Western North Carolina Woman, Now & Then, Main Street Rag, and SouthLit.com among others.

She is currently working on a joint project with local photographer Alicia Jo McMahan to coincide with the release of chapbook in January of 2011. Additionally, she is revising her play An Uncivil Union (based on historical events that occurred in Burnsville curing the Civil War) which the Parkway Playhouse will put on as a part of their 2011 season.

Author of the recently published, Eggtown and Other Stories, Burnsville resident and Asheville native Zack Clark Allen, says he is “way too busy” to be retired. In this collection from his years as a journalist, his stories and poetic insights “capture the flavor and essence of other times and other places; of people and dreams; and of life, as an unfinished poem. “

About his new collection he says, “Some of the stories in this book take place in the rolling hills rising to the south of the Rocky River in northern Anson County, North Carolina. These are memory pieces and reflect on my years with the grandfather whose name I bear. These were simple times that impressed vivid and comforting memories upon the heart of a young boy.

“The other stories are reflections in the waters of the French Broad River, in Western North Carolina, and many were columns appearing on the Sunday editorial pages of the Asheville Citizen-Times.

“One thing became increasingly clear as I looked back at what I had written: a newspaper is not in the business of publishing timeless prose. Writing on deadline makes it the art of the unfinished. So this book is what it must be – a retrospective collection of stories and poems, linked only by vague themes of rivers, currents and passages in my life.”
Allen’s serial careers have taken him on a diverse odyssey. After college, he worked briefly as a chemist in synthetic fiber research before his talent for writing steered him toward a 20-year journey as a writer, editor and columnist. He has published literally hundreds of articles in major newspapers, wire services, and, through syndication, in dozens of other publications around the world. His stories and columns have earned him many awards including being honored as the top columnist in the state for two years in a row by the North Carolina Press Association in the major newspapers category.

He is married to Maggie Lauterer, recently retired pastor of Burnsville First Presbyterian Church, who shares his love of singing ballads and early American shape-note music. He has two daughters, Sydney, and Sarah Addison Allen, who is carrying on the family tradition of writing as the author of three published books: Garden Spells, The Sugar Queen, and The Girl Who Chased the Moon, two of which have appeared on the New York Times Best Seller List. Her fourth book, The Peach Keeper, will be published by Bantam Books next March.

Frosty Mornings

2010-10-17T08:42:00.002-04:00

The last few mornings we've seen light frost silver-gilding the grass, so decided to pick everything we had left in the garden rather than resort to tucking the vegetables in at night under blankets. Lots of hot peppers. Some of those will turn into my husband's bacon-wrapped, cream-cheese-stuffed jalapeño poppers. Yum. But I think we're going to try to can some sort of green tomato, pepper relish. Though I haven't found a recipe I like... Many of them ask you to blister and peel the peppers. Not only does that seem tedious, the pain potential seems entirely too high. I'm forever accidentally rubbing my eyes. Before we put any of these plans into effect, though, we need to get a few pair of rubber gloves!

Get yourself to the mountains!

2010-10-15T11:52:00.003-04:00

I took this photo from the top of our property last weekend. But in the last week, this same view has turned golden. If you're thinking of visiting WNC to see the leaves, now is the time! I might even suggest a yummy meal in Asheville at The Southern.

Why do writers write?

2010-10-13T10:04:00.002-04:00

I meant to (re)post this last week, closer to the time it was actually written...

Friend/local writer Alan Gratz blogged last week about why he writes. It's worth reading, especially if you're a writer.

I'm not even close to being in the same position he is... he writes to make a living. Perhaps, if I also had that driving force/need behind my writing, I'd have a few novels under my belt as well. But I don't, and I don't, and so I can slack around doing other things. (Other productive things, though. Like having twins.)

Even before reading his post, the notion of being mindful to what we want to say Yes to had been on my mind. If we can really identify what we want to say yes to, it become easier to say no to the the things that do not align with our yeses. I agree, that if you want to write and publish, you have to say YES to long hours in a chair pecking away at a keyboard. For me, this is not always enjoyable. The rush is when I leave the chair and feel the sense of accomplishment. I felt that last Monday, when I finished a series of revisions on my play An Uncivil Union: The Battle of Burnsville which the Parkway Playhouse will produce next year. The playhouse is submitting it for a grant to help fund production and thus, some revisions were in order. (Though not the last set of revisions, I'm sure.)

I hope the grant board likes it.

Alan's post made me think, since I'm not writing for financial reasons, why am I writing? His observations about wanting an audience certainly rang true. Yes, I want an audience for my thoughts. I think I have something to say--a perspective on life--that more people need to consider. Perhaps this is a product of being an oldest child, a mom, and a former teacher. Perhaps it's plain old arrogance. It is also a fun mental exercise for me to pull from life the odd connections and synchronicities and try to re-represent them in writing so that others can see/feel the same interrelationships. In particular, that's what writing poetry is for me. As my audience as been pretty small thus far, we'll see if I successfully do that or not with the new chapbook. I'll probably never know though.

Anyway -- Thanks for being an audience. I'll try not to be heavy-handed.

Reading (Binge)

2010-10-03T16:30:00.003-04:00

In the last four weeks I have read the following books:

The Blue Star Tony Earley

A Home on the Field Paul Cuadros

The Hunger Games Suzanne Collins

Mennonite in a Little Black Dress Rhoda Janzen

Catching Fire Suzanne Collins

Both Ways Is the Only Way I Want It Maile Meloy

Mockingjay Suzanne Collins

Dragonsbane Barbara Hambly

Now that the weather has turned cold, the time for climbing under a blanket with a book has begun. And of all the odd blessings... I haven't gotten addicted to any new TV shows this fall! Last night, while the ND football game was on, I happily sipped on my first gallon of spiced cider (made in the crock pot with an orange wheel sporting a cinnamon-stick axle and clove tread) and read about dragons, magic, and the plight of a 36 year-old woman caught between dedicating herself to her craft or loving her children and their father. Hmmmm. Though I don't get to turn into a dragon in the end--like she did.

I think a friend's going to lend me The Girl With A Dragon Tatoo too...

The Deed Gets Done

2010-09-28T09:31:00.005-04:00

Stop right here. This is a friendly warning. I'm posting some pictures of the butchering (my first) at Mike and Lori's from Sunday and a description of what I learned. I have pretty tastefully cropped and blurred the photos so that there isn't any bright-red blood, but there are some up-close ones of me skinning our rooster. Yes, I held it together and was able to participate somewhat.

Mike started with one of his own roosters to see how I would do, and while it was slightly alarming, I didn't get woozy or feel the world fogging in on me from the edges. (I've fainted enough to know when it's coming--usually in response to seeing my own blood.) To be as quick and painless about it as possible, he makes two long slits along the neck so that the blood spills out fast and the heart pumps it all out of the body. Of course, the chicken flops around after it's dead -- like we all know they do -- but one of the benefits of hanging them is that they're not running around. That could have gotten to me. (My mother and sister-in-law have horror stories of being chased by headless chickens.) So, when it was time, I got Camillo out of the cage and hung him myself. That's how I got all the feathers stuck to my hand. But I did not slit his throat. I wasn't sure I could do it in a way that would make the process quick and painless.

Then, once all of their roosters had also been butchered and the blood drained out, it was time to skin. Mike and Lori's new fire pit isn't finished yet, so instead of plucking these, he just skinned them. So we'll be using them for soup, not roasting, grilling or smoking. (Actually, we'll be making the roosters into Grandma Carrie's famous chicken-pot-pie!) Anyway. After watching him skin two, I said I was ready to try skinning Camillo. After he started turning them inside out, they really started looking more like "meat" and less like "rooster" -- and I've worked enough with supermarket chicken/turkey carcasses for that to feel familiar, so I was pretty sure I could do it. Mike got the legs started, which is tricky, but once he got that done and the entrails out, it was my turn.

That leg sticking out did hit me in the face a few times as I was trying to get my hands in the right position. Annoying. (In the background you can see their extensive gardens which supply us with a vast majority of our vegetables since we get a CSA box from them - MiLo Acres - every week.)
Here Mike is telling me that when I pull down on the skin, I'm supposed to cut at the point of greatest tension and keep working my way around, pulling down. My doctor husband pointed out that I have my knife at the wrong angle for cutting fascia (the connective tissue that surrounds muscles). You're supposed to hold the knife at a 90 degree angle to the muscle and just saw lightly back and forth. I altered my technique and of course, it worked much better. (I tried not to think about the fact that he knows this not from butchering chickens but from cutting humans! In medical school/residency, in surgery, of course. But still. Ugh.)

Or maybe that's Mike pointing out the wing joint that I had to sever. I had a tough time with it, but I got it eventually.

Next time, my challenge to myself will be to reach in and pull out the entrails. Actually slitting a throat may have to wait for the third time--or fourth. Who knows. We left the necks on, since they make for great soup meat. Then once they were rinsed off, we took 'em home to chill. (Mike and Lori graciously cleaned up.) Right now we have three birds tenderizing in the refrigerator. I also learned it's best to let them sit in the fridge a few days before freezing them or cooking them. Who knew?

Also interesting to note in this process, though I don't have a picture of it, was the color difference between our bird and the others. It could have been just a difference in breeds or ages, but my husband suspected it had to do with quick-twitch muscles. Our rooster got to free-range through the yard (and subsequently had to outrun the dog) so had developed his leg muscles more than Mike and Lori's who have a large outdoor pen, but don't actually free-range. I can look in the pan with the three birds, and easily pick out Camillo's purpler legs. Odd.

In hindsight, I'm glad I did this, and am proud of myself that I saw it through. If push came to shove, I've proven to myself I could provide for my family some of our meat-eating habits. I could raise and butcher chickens should the world collapse around me.

I was able to eat food that night and have not sworn off meat by any stretch of the imagination. We do buy nearly all of our meat from local farmers and are making a concerted effort to avoid supporting large, cruel farms with our purchase dollars. However, homesteading is not something I'm ready to commit to 100%. I have, however, offered to come and help with other butcherings in the future -- if for no other reason, so I can learn how to pluck.

Tomorrow

2010-09-26T20:35:00.003-04:00

Monday marks the first official advance-sales date for my chapbook Belonging. I know I've already put up my website page, made an "event" on FB, and the postcards sent by Finishing Line Press have begun arriving in mailboxes. (And now I've blogged about it.) However, if you think that having seen one of these things makes you exempt from harassing phone calls -- well, you're right. I'm not going to call you. There is a good chance, though, that if your email address is in my gmail account, you'll be getting a friendly email from me sometime in the next six weeks! You have that to look forward to.

Here's my new website page about the chapbook. (With printable ordering form.)

Here's the website for Finishing Line Press and their Advance Sales Page. They also have an Amazon Store where you can buy their older titles.

The toughest part is doing all this publicity work now and having to wait until January to actually hold the finished product in my hand. That is a day I'm really looking forward to.

The Life of a Carnivore

2010-09-25T17:07:00.007-04:00

Back when we got the chicks we'd said We're only keeping one rooster even if it turns out that we've got more than one male.

Now what we were going to do with other males remained to be seen. We knew enough about roosters to know that having more than one would lead to fights, stress out the hens (perhaps hampering their laying), and serious increase the noise level.

Evidently, projecting that they were all girls, and thus labeling them with superimposed graphics, doesn't influence their genetic makeup.

Fortunately, of the 10 chicks we got, only two of them ended up being roosters. And they got named: Camillo & Grey Legs. (Mistake #1. But seriously, how do you talk about a think without having something to refer to it by?) So, that meant it really was a cockfight... fighting to the death... but a fight of a rather different nature.

Barbara Kingsolver, in her book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle helped us (as painful as it was for the kids) to determine qualities to look for: First, which crow is more pleasing to the ear? Grey Legs wins that one with a clear-throated sound that is not raspy and harsh -- as Camillo's is. Second, which rooster protects the hens? In several instances, like when our part-Lab (part-border-collie) dog chased the hens, Grey Legs would take off after the dog while Camillo idly watched the commotion from a safe distance.

On a side note about the dog: It's pretty amazing that while the chickens are in the yard, the dog is content to leave the birds alone. (The border-collie nature wins.) She has even, on occasion, calmly herded them out of the front yard and into the back/side yard where we'd prefer them to stay. But all that's when they're on the mown grass. In the event that one of the chickens should squawk while in the tall boggy area of our drained pond, her Lab genetics take over and nothing, not the children wailing, me yelling, or lightning, can keep her from chasing them--bounding through the tall grasses, floppy ears perked... lookin' for the bird, lookin' for the bird, I was born to find the bird...

See! Evidence I didn't know I had.
There's the white rooster, Camillo, trying to outrun the hens.

Back to the roosters.

Third, is the rooster kind? "Kind?" you're thinking. "How would you even begin to determine if a rooster is kind?" Well, spend some time watching chickens -- which is a lot of fun -- and you'll soon see. Camillo always pushed his way to the front to eat scratch out of our hands. Grey Legs waited and let the ladies eat first. Neither one of them attacked us -- so that's good. But I have, several times, seen Grey Legs pull a worm or grub from the ground and give it to one of the hens. Kindness.

You're getting the picture: Camillo's getting the axe. Tomorrow, in fact. But here's the thing: We can't just kill him & leave him for the foxes & coyotes. We've never been hunters and have never butchered before. Shoot. I've never even gutted a fish. So how do we even do the thing that's most responsible?

Fortunately, we have friends. Friends who, on our request, are inviting us over when they butcher their chickens and will teach me/us. I'm determined to be responsibly involved in process... the whole process of being a carnivore: raising the animal, protecting it from predators, feeding it, killing it, preparing it, and eating it.

I keep telling my kids (who are still refusing to eat the bird) that this is the trade we're making: We gave Camillo a healthy, happy life. In return, he will make our lives healthier and happier. It is a partnership. It is a reasonable trade and we will not be wasteful of his life. We will prepare the meat and make stock from the bones... if there are scraps on our plate, we will give them to the dog. We will use everything he give to us. (Or that we take from him -- however you want to look at it.)

I think this is a very valuable lesson for me to appreciate the amount of meat I've eaten in my life. It is sobering to think of how flippantly I treat the life of a agri-buisness caged-for-short-life chicken that ended up a gross Burger King chicken tender. I am woefully overdue for this dose of reality/responsibility.

Tomorrow, I may be woefully ill. But maybe I need to be. And I'm determined to do this. I'm even leaving the camera in my husband's hands to document how green I turn in this effort to be greener.

Loafing Under Trees

2010-09-20T14:00:00.006-04:00

In his novel Middlesex, Jeffry Eugenides' narrator recounts the story of Princess Si Ling-Chi, who discovered the silk worm's thread when she was sitting under a tree and a cocoon fell into her cup of tea and unraveled. He writes, "Great discovery, whether of silk or gravity, are always windfalls. they happen to people loafing under trees."

So I resolve to do more loafing under trees.

Traveling a few weeks ago, I heard on NPR a report about how all our "screens" (smart phones, computers, televisions, ipods, etc.) are distracting us. They keep us from boredom, yes, but they prevent us from rest--the time we need to process and cement into our memory what we've learned. Checking our screens is the worst kind of recipe for addiction-making behavior: intermittent reinforcement. Constant checking prevents us from coming up with new ideas -- it inhibits our creativity -- even though the devices we are checking have the ability to greatly increase our production.

So I resolve to do more loafing under trees.

On the next program, Diane Rheem had on a man whose research showed the connection between our body and mind and how that affects our health. People with chronic pain treated themselves, by employing a relaxing technique and remembering back to a time in their lives when they were without pain to remember themselves back into wellness. He said in times of stress we need to break the cycle of our thought patterns, relax, and think of something else. He cited "believers" -- believers of anything -- being a healthier population than non-believers. The pattern of prayer takes us out of our routine, making us more relaxed, more healthy. One caller shared how in times of daily, routine stress, she stopped and recited poetry...

So I resolve to do more loafing under trees.

Summer is waning and soon the leaves will change... the weather will grow cold..

I believe I have someplace better to be right now.

Carolina Mountains Literary Festival

2010-09-15T09:09:00.003-04:00

What a great weekend it was. I don't think I've ever learned so much in a festival weekend:

trivia facts: the quartz used in the Hale Telescope came from Mitchell county, Plott Hounds were a breed originated in Western North Carolina (I probably should have known that one, but I didn't grow up here), the 1904 Word's Fair had some 500 acres of land designated to "house" "indigenous peoples" from around the world and the Smithsonian arranged to have the rights to their bodies should they die during the fair.
new ways of thinking about writing poetry: the use of subordinating clauses to take you under surface meaning, abiding images, prose poetry as a means of avoiding the pretentious pause when reading line breaks, writing simply for the sound of the words, finding the plainest image to communicate meaning instead of the most abstruse one.

I also began to understand how each writer's process is different, needs to be, and the task is not necessarily to emulate a great writer's process, it is to discover your own. Stick with what works for you to be productive. Here are some processes writers described:

Long periods of self-loathing followed by furious bouts of typing. (hahaha!)
Starting poetry in the subconscious with #1 an "abiding image," #2 writing a big mess around that image, then in the conscious mind #3 attending to craft and paring it down.
One said, "Writing a novel is like putting hundreds of marbles on a table that's not quite level. And the moment I get them all to hold still I say -- I'm done. Because I know if I move just one thing, it'll all fall apart."
One has stopped journaling because it prevents her from writing anything else that day.
One calls it "canabalizing" (plagiarizing?) his own work as he takes the same images, words, and uses them in fiction, poetry, essay...
Some take copious notes and jot down things, some hold it all in their minds.

I was also very moved when Paul Cuadros was able to address 60 middle school students and probably 60 high school students... (there were about 240 in the room) about issues of immigration in small rural communities. His book A Home on the Field is very relevant and a worthwhile read -- especially if you like soccer. I would recommend it to you all.

And if you don't believe me that it was a great weekend, check out what an unbiased participant had to say: Robin's Blog.

Threshold

2010-08-03T08:07:00.003-04:00

I know I am right on the verge, the cusp, the threshold of a new era, but I just can't imagine what it will be like. And a certain amount of anxiety accompanies that. For six years now, I have anticipated this next week when all three of my children will hop on the school bus in the morning and not return for another seven hours. Seven hours. Six years ago, swollen with twins, I also knew I was on the verge of a new era and I had no idea what was coming. No idea.

For so long I counseled myself: Just wait. Just wait. One day they will all be in school and you will have time to catch up, have a clean house, can the garden produce, maintain the flower beds, learn how to bake bread... write.

I remember Barbara Kingsolver saying the schoolbus was her muse and I was filled with longing... Some day that will happen to me. But it was still so far in the future I couldn't really fathom it. Now it is almost here... and I'm no more able to predict what a school day will feel like. I've been doing this stay-at-home mother thing now for 8 years--longer than I have done any one thing in my life and I simply cannot form in my mind the new structure of my days. I am simply aware that it is almost here, about to begin, and once again, I have no idea what is coming. No idea.

Early Birds

2010-08-02T14:45:00.006-04:00

We weren't expecting eggs from the pullets until August, but they surprised us by laying in July. My daughter even got her wish: an egg laid on her birthday.

They're still quite small compared to a grown hen's... but they sure do taste delicious. We've been eating fritatas about once a week now, throwing any garden veggies we have in with basil and cheese. The kids like it, too! I must say, I'm having to fight the urge to prick holes in the ends of the eggs so I can save them. They're just so CUTE though, I can hardly stand it. It's a lot of fun to collect them and my daughter even reports spying through the back of the laying boxes and actually seeing an egg being laid. A few of then hens lay blue-ish grey eggs. We got three like that just today.

With a total of eight pullets, they've worked themselves up to half-dozen days in just a few short weeks. Speaking of which, I should go hard-boil some of the stockpile we've accrued in the fridge.

July Already?

2010-07-07T07:28:00.007-04:00

The list of things I still need to do is nearly as long as the list of accomplishments.

I really should spray the tomatoes with copper before they blight, haul a few gallons of water across to the field to water the late corn, pull up the peas and plant beans... I've got four websites to create or update and literary festival press releases to send out. And then there are the obligations of a mother to her children during summer: teach good work ethic, ensure they practice piano, read Harry Potter to them, arrange time to be with their friends, plan birthday parties, take them swimming and see the latest block-buster kid movies.

Two more performances of Annie at the Parkway Playhouse.

But! I've driven to and from Indiana with the three kids -- sans husband, plus mother-in-law. We've had peas, lettuce, cilantro, kale and spinach from our garden. And it's only a little bit weedy. The chickens are all still alive and the dog has not run off. I've got a poem out in the most recent issue of Now & Then: An Appalachian Magazine out of ETSU. One of my poems was selected as one of 57 honorable mentions out of more than 900 entries in this year's Binnicale Ultra-Short Competition. I've got a profile on Wendi Gratz coming out in WNC Woman next month. And even more amazing, when I took my writing "vacation" last weekend, I wrote more than 30 pages of new material! That is a major accomplishment for me. I'm at page 60. I've NEVER in my life written anything that long before. Now, I've got to push through to the end.

I'm also keeping up with my morning pages and artists dates even thought I've complete The Artists Way. I'm sure that the work I'm doing with morning pages has a major impact on the previous paragraph's accomplishments. So, I've got to keep on going with the good-- and do my best to avoid Bejeweled Blitz and not binge on episodes of Farscape!

Long Quiet

2010-05-28T12:36:00.003-04:00

So much good weather has seen me outside mowing the lawn, running, training the dog, enticing the chickens to eat slugs from my hand, and planting the garden.

Not all of it has gone smoothly though. For one, I decided to try the tomato trick of putting powdered milk in the hole when you plant. The calcium supposedly helps prevent blossom end rot. I figured, what could be the harm in trying? The harm, it appears, is that it entices my dog to dig up the tomato plants. ARG.

Further, this morning was an outright disaster. In my attempts to help the two teeny-tiny cute baby banty chicks we got from the preschool grow faster by upping the wattage of their warming light, I inadvertently baked them to death. The discovery of which was made by one of my children. Needless to say, my offspring hate me about as much as I hate myself.

However, I'm now up to 17 books read for the year which puts me between 3-4 a month. Right where I want to be. (I'm contemplating reading another one or two today to escape reality, but I have too much to do.) Recent additions are The Garden of Iden (sci-fi), Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (bookclub selection which was sheer hysterical farce), and Because of Winn-Dixie (kids' book that was genius).

As for the BFF 5K, I finished under 30 minutes. 29:23 to be exact. And I've done a moderately good job at keeping up running even after the race.

However, I slacked a bit this week and had a few nights of poor sleep (and general crankiness) as a result, so am renewing my efforts.

Goal Update

2010-04-29T09:16:00.004-04:00

So...

#1 - Script Frenzy in April -- miserable failure. I don't have more than 10 pages of my script written

#2 - Physical Health - Running - My New Year's Goal is to run 2 5Ks during 2010. The first, the Burnsville Fit Families 5K, is coming up on May 8, and I'm getting there. I'm not sure I'll meet my goal of running it in under 30 minutes, but it'll be close. A friend and I ran the course yesterday and clocked in at about 32 minutes... So, with a week and a half to go, I think I'll be able to get in some speed work and maybe, just maybe I can pull it out.

#3 - Reading - I've officially finished Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and it has changed the way I'm going to think and eat. Already last week we ordered more grass-fed local beef and pork from Farmer's Market vendors. (GO TO YOUR LOCAL FARMER'S MARKET AND BUY AND EAT THE FOOD!) Also, I'm going to include How to be Your Dog's Best Friend by the monks of New Skete. That wasn't quite a cover-to-cover read, but I've read several of the chapters multiple times already.

In other news, the dog will sit, stay, down, and come on command. And she's learning the boundaries of the property pretty well -- i.e. she knows she can be in the creek, but if she crosses to the other bank, she'll get in trouble.

Also, I've got spinach up in the garden! Still waiting for the peas and lettuce to show, but I need to get out and plant the next batches -- and get some broccoli.

2010-04-22T12:44:00.002-04:00

So this is my latest book (not quite done yet). It is really so timely... Just last week we got chickens, a dog, we've tilled the garden and I've already planted the first of my lettuce, spinach, and peas. (I like to plant them in batches a week or so apart so that things are edible over a longer period of time. I'm not trying to can/preserve any of these crops, so I don't want them to all "come in" at once.)

I cannot say how much I have been inspired by this book to live and eat more simply/locally.

Thanks to the unusual list of vegetables in the book, I'm going to plant some Long Keeper tomatoes too. The idea of having one's own garden tomatoes wrapped in newspaper ripening in October or November is so appealing I can hardly stand it! I've also got this new great system to (cross my fingers) keep my tomatoes from blighting and reducing the amount of space they take up. We'll see how it goes. I'll post pictures soon.

Meanwhile, in other areas of my life... tune in to WPVM at 6pm this Sunday to hear me read a few of my poems on air (between bouts of blathering).

Spaghetti Dinner - May 8

2010-04-16T11:01:00.004-04:00

Yep. It's time for the Spaghetti Dinner to benefit Church Street Preschool. See me for tickets! Please. I've got twins!Where? Garden Deli

When? Saturday, May 8, 4:30-7:30 (dine-in or take-out)

What? spaghetti (meat or marinara sauce), salad, bread, beverage and homemade dessert

AW Assignment (from a few weeks ago)

2010-04-14T09:53:00.002-04:00

One of the tasks in the Artist's Way is to create a collage of images culled from magazines. So I went to the local library and picked up a dozen old magazines for about $1.50 and started ripping away. (I love doing this kind of thing!) Instead of looking for pictures that represented my past and future, I went strictly with images I was drawn to. And I love the result:

The words by the dog are an old Chinese saying: Pleasure for an hour, a bottle of wine; pleasure for a year, marriage; pleasure for a lifetime, a garden.

Found Her

2010-04-13T23:16:00.003-04:00

Meet Daisy, with whom I am completely smitten.

The Quest for the Perfect Dog

2010-04-02T09:59:00.004-04:00

I know this is slightly unreasonable, but here's what I'd like to find:

A dog that is...

more than a year old
medium sized
good with kids
can handle being an only dog
is able to keep warm outside in the winter (he/she will not come inside)
will not kill chickens
will run off rabbits & deer from my garden & worry the groundhogs
can be off the leash & un-penned, but not run away

Bonus qualities:

is easily (or already) trained
likes to play fetch

We met this guy at the shelter yesterday and he seems like he has a great disposition... but I've read that Basset Hounds can be stubborn (not easily trained) and like to follow scents and then have a hard time finding their way home... That would be less than ideal. Further, this guy seems like more of a porch accessory than a fetcher. But you'd be hard pressed to find a sweeter porch accessory!

Now, I know labs are great family dogs too, but I'm worried about their "birding" instincts. And I know several chicken owners who, because labs train fairly easily, have trained their labs to leave their chickens alone.

So, the dog-searching adventure continues.

AW Update -- up to Week 7

2010-04-01T10:52:00.002-04:00

It's strange, I'll get to one week's tasks and think... Oh, I already did this a few weeks ago. Or conversely, I'll do one weeks morning-page suggestions or tasks the week after I was assigned to do them. There is a more lax flow through the different sections this time. I don't know if that's because I anticipate what's coming, or if I was just so ready for the process this time... and I'm being more forgiving with myself about doing things "on time." In fact, I've had a very difficult time being "on time" in the last few weeks. I wonder if that's because I'm being more present in the moment rather than always trying to anticipate what's coming next...

Phrases from the book that have struck me in the last few weeks:

We decide how powerful God is for us. We unconsciously set a limit on how much God can give us or help us. We are stingy with ourselves. And if we receive a gift beyond our imagining, we often send it back. (p 91)
Pray to catch the bus, then run as fast as you can. (p 92)
The desire to be worldly, sophisticated, and smart often blocks our flow. (p 93)
An artist requires the upkeep of creative solitude. (p 97)
What we really want to do is what we are really meant to do. (p 108)
Expect the universe to support your dream. It will. (p 119)
As blocked artists, we unrealistically expect and demand success from ourselves and recognition of that success from others. (p 121)

What's coming in April

2010-03-31T11:18:00.003-04:00

I have lots of catching up to do with blogging, but I'll get to that later.

My big plans for April include this -- Script Frenzy -- from the fine folks who brought you NaNoWriMo.

AW Wk 4

2010-03-12T12:38:00.002-05:00

OK. Not reading anything is supposed to prompt me to produce more... so there's really no excuse for not continuing to blog. But I have been trying to avoid the computer as much as possible, since that's where I can fritter away a lot of time--reading other people's blogs, emailing, checking in on my friends' lives on Facebook, surfing, etc. The internet is a real trap for curious people, like myself. And it's reading.

But back to The Artist's Way-- The phrases that struck me from this week/chapter:

Checkhov advised, "If you want to work on your art, work on your life." (80)

People frequently believe the creative life is grounded in fantasy. The more difficult truth is that creativity is grounded in reality, in the particular, the focused, the well observed or specifically imagined. (82)

The biggie for the week, is of course, no reading. I haven't been able to give up email entirely, but I have avoided reading novels, magazines, newspapers, others' blogs... And I've made good headway on some of my other creative ventures and knocked off a lot of things on my To-Do list that have been on there for quite some time. I know these things are related.

Week 4 - the hardest task, I think

2010-03-09T21:24:00.003-05:00

So, Week 4 in The Artist's Way is Reading Deprivation Week. That's right. I'm not supposed to read ANYTHING this entire week.

Sunshine on Snow

2010-03-05T13:03:00.002-05:00

After 3 snow-day cancellations again this week, the kids are finally in school again today. Albeit with a 2 hour delay. And tomorrow, with sunshine in the forecast and highs in the 50s, they'll be off to Saturday school.

But tonight I get out of the house: solo. Well, almost solo. I'm planning a dinner date with Holden Caulfield and some battered deep-fried green beans.

Artist's Way - Week Three

2010-03-01T12:59:00.003-05:00

Passages from the book that struck me:

Anger is meant to be acted upon. It is not meant to be acted out. Anger points the direction. We are meant to use anger as fuel to take the actions we need to move where our anger points us. With a little thought, we can usually translate the message that our anger is sending us. (61)

It's my [Julia Cameron's] experience that we're much more afraid that there might be a God than we are that there might not be. (63)

The criticism that damages is that which disparages, dismisses, ridicules, or condemns. It is frequently vicious but vague and difficult to refute. (69)

Creativity is the only cure for criticism. (73)

Now while this chapter is very helpful about criticism and anger, it does not really discuss the impersonal rejection. I can't remember from the last time I worked through the book whether subsequent chapters shed any light on this, but I hope so. There's nothing in a canned response tersely printed on a 1/4 sheet of paper stuffed in an SASE that might lead to an "Ah-ha!" moment for revising the work. While Cameron admonishes "don't pick up the first doubt," I feel it might be foolishly arrogant to keep getting rejection letters and not consider that (major) revision is in order. But which part to revise? hmmm. I will stay open to advice on this issue.

When the most perfect thing just flies out of your mouth...

2010-02-28T13:50:00.003-05:00

"Excuse me," I said to the couples crowded by the restaurant door waiting to be seated and reached my hand toward the door handle of the unisex bathroom.

"That one's full," one woman called out helpfully. "You'll have to use that one." She pointed further down the hall.

"Thanks," I said and let myself in and locked the door behind me. Their conversation resumed. Apparently they were very hungry and more than anxious to be seated soon. I felt a little sheepish for eaves-dropping and tried to read the wallpaper of Cook's Magazine plastered to the walls. I felt a little guilty for lolly-gagging at the end of my meal, but no matter, my husband and I were about to leave. So I washed my hands quickly and eased the door open.

I didn't want to bang into anyone in the hall, so peeked cautiously through the crack I'd made and saw people shuffling out of the way and tapping others to make them aware of my re-emergence.

"How did you do that?" one man asked incredulously. "How did you lock the door? She locked the door," he explained to his friend.

All eyes turned to me.

"I, uh, pushed the button," I stammered.

"Where? What button? Where's the button?" he pulled the door open examining the levered handle.

"Right there, underneath," I gestured. The group pushed forward, craning.

"Sure enough!" the man declared bending down to see it and pushed it himself. "There it is! How did you know that? " He looked up at me. "How did you know it was there?"

"Because I'm a mom," I said sliding through the group back toward my table. "And moms know everything."

"Good answer," I heard a woman murmur. "Good answer."

Artist's Way - Week Two

2010-02-22T10:34:00.002-05:00

Quotes from the text that struck me:

Often creativity is blocked by our falling in with other people's plans for us. We want to set aside time for our creative work, but we feel we should do something else instead. As blocked creatives, we focus not on our responsibilities to ourselves, but on our responsibility to others. We tend to think such behavior makes us good people. It doesn't. It makes us frustrated people. (p. 43)

Setting skepticism aside, even briefly, can make for very interesting explorations. In creative recovery, it is not necessary for that we change any of our beliefs. It is necessary that we examine them. (p. 51)

The reward for attention is always healing. (p. 53)

During this process I am to look for moments of serendipity or coincidence or re-occurrences/themes. Among these this week was the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi:

The Second Wave

2010-02-20T10:34:00.002-05:00

Rejections are always hard and have been especially hard for me lately. My chapbook, comprised of what I think are my best poems that fit together, has been rejected over a half-dozen times.

A drop in the bucket, you can say in your detached way. And I know it's true, in some small part of my brain or gut, but that objective part is certainly not in my heart. The rejections are residing there currently. Even if I know simple, obvious things like the judges are subjective and it might not be their style, or it's not right fit with the press, or you have to persevere, it still stings every time. It's petty, I know: The winning poet probably is a better poet than I am. But not having made the honorable mentions once causes me to doubt each of my poems' individual qualities, the collection of them, and the order. Everything.

I keep revising and submitting, though. Right now it's out five other places. (...awaiting rejection, my pessimistic side adds.)

Today, though, I got a package in the mail from one of the presses I submitted to: It's the winning chapbook of a contest that rejected my manuscript. A new twist to rejection--here, read what we think is better than your poetry. I also realize--I've got another dozen of these chapbooks on their way in the next year.

I wonder if I'll be able to read them.

Ash Wednesday & Lent Begins

2010-02-18T13:02:00.003-05:00

Oh, yes, I spent lots of time thinking about Jesus yesterday and praying "Dear God!"

You see, we decided to give up some vices (as a family) for Lent this year. After a family discussion, we settled on no meat on Fridays--a nice traditional Lenten sacrifice. And truly, the way large-scale farms treat animals and the way they are processed so neatly for us consumers as to remove us from poor living conditions, death and butchering is a vice prominent in my life. I should give it up a little more often than Fridays in Lent. (We do get our beef from Pleasant Gap Farm, though: local, grass-fed, hormone & antibiotic free.)

The other vice my family and I over-indulge in is "screen-time," for lack of a better word. So, we picked our busiest day of the week and designated Wednesdays during Lent No Screen-Time Day. No TV, no computer, no Wii, no movies. The implications of this are huge: no blogging, email, facebook, Mario Cart, kidspbs.org, Nick Jr., American Idol results, Big 10 basketball, nor Olympics. (We did TiVo Olympics & Idol though.) But Wednesdays are busy days so it shouldn't be too much sweat: school/preschool, piano lessons, kids church, dinner... so by the time all that is done, it's only about an hour and a half before the kids go to bed.

Unless, of course, it's a snow day. Which it was.

Oh, want to know what a snow day in the Appalachians looks like? Mind you, this picture is from today -- the 4th snow day this week. I guess I should rephrase: the 4th cancellation this week.

I have just a little bit of cabin fever going on, in my defense. I know there are plenty of steep, twisty, curvy roads with "black ice" that makes driving a bus treacherous, but for crying out loud, can we please get a day of school in this week? June 10 should be summer vacation.

But back to Wednesdays during Lent: all in all, it went very well. The kids never asked once to watch TV or play computer games... never tried to get me to "bend the rules" since it was a snow day. They expressed frustration or wishfulness, yes, but no temper tantrums. And I certainly considered vices, sacrifice, and Jesus a lot more than usual... which is part of the point of Lent after all.

Artist's Way Update

2010-02-16T15:01:00.002-05:00

So I began. Yesterday I read the first few chapters -- up through Week 1--and made my promises to myself to see it through.

This morning, I got up 30 minutes early, before the kids (who had another snow day) and wrote my morning pages and worked through some of the exercises.

Phrases from the text that struck me...

Many real artists bear children too early or have too many, are too poor or too far removed culturally or monetarily from artistic opportunity to become the artists they really are. These artists, shadow artists through no fault of their own, hear the distant piping of the dream but are unable to make their way through the cultural maze to find it. (28)

Creativity is play, but for shadow artists, learning to allow themselves to play is hard work. (29)

Our chief needs as creative beings is support. (25)

To learn more about The Artist's Way, written by Julia Cameron, visit her website. It may seem hokey, and she'll be the first to admit it, but it's a 12-week time investment of about 10 hours a week to do the necessary work of self-examination, writing, and pattern changing.

That's It

2010-02-15T10:43:00.003-05:00

Maybe it's cabin fever. Maybe it's starting a new year and having a birthday. Maybe it's stircrazies. But I've had it.

I'm doing The Artist's Way again and getting to the bottom of this. Getting to the bottom of this and doing something about it.

Pack Rat

2010-02-10T15:31:00.005-05:00

I am a pack rat extraordinaire. Throw something away? Never. I might need it later, for some project. Of course, if you'd ask me what I was going to use it for at the time I decided it needed to be squirreled away, I probably wouldn't be able to tell you. However, I've used saved wine corks to plug our spurting water filter, ripped up jeans to mend another pair of ripped up jeans, the shiny insides of Puff's Plus boxes for Valentines, old onion bags to put wet lettuce in to "spin" the water from...

Other people even know this about me, so when my mother-in-law was going through her mother's odds and ends of fabrics she knew I'd want them and brought a big bag of vintage scraps for me. She even included some half-sewn quilt squares and pre-cut pieces that had been her grandmothers.

This Christmas, much to my self-satisfaction, I found the perfect use for them.

After a trip to Mountain Farms, I came away with a 1 gallon bag of lavender leaves and buds. You have no idea how much this is until you see it. And seeing it is nothing compared to opening the zippered bag and smelling it.

Then, I started combining the pie-shaped pieces and sewing them into little sachets. The kids helped me spoon lavender into them and then I stitched them up by hand and gave them away with presents.

Note the hand stitching on the beginnings of a hexagonal pieced quilt top. What a lot of work!

I also purchased a few yards of soft flannel from the local fabric store Needle Me This and sewed rectangles that the kids filled with a combination of rice and lavender. Once I closed the top, they could be put in the microwave for about a minute-and-a-half and -- wa-lah a portable heating pad. I used one like this constantly after the accident so decided to make about twenty as gifts.

The bonus of this adventure is that I learned Mountain Farms, aside from making about the best goat cheese around, has a labyrinth made from lavender plants. I can hardly wait for the summer to try it out!

In the back of my brain

2010-02-09T09:56:00.004-05:00

The recent discussions about Goshen College's decision to play the National Anthem reminded me of an old GC Bulletin cover that upset some people. But I was especially pleased to re-read Keith Graber-Miller's article that went with it. I'd recommend re-reading it. It comforts me to know that Keith is still teaching in the theology department. He was one of my favorite professors.

Now I am 36

2010-02-08T10:33:00.003-05:00

It's closer to 40 than it is 30. That can make me gulp if I dwell on it, but it's all silliness, I know.

Things that happened my birthday weekend:

#1 - It was quiet and peaceful. That, in large part, was because my in-laws kept the kids and we headed off for a weekend in a Gatlinburg cabin with a sauna and hot tub. There is great value in totally relaxing.

#2 - I learned a new word: Loyly - the steam produced by pouring water over hot rocks in a sauna.

#3 - I read an entire 400+ page book: Archangel by Sharon Shinn. More of that sci-fi & theology mix that I'm really enjoying right now. It's so much fun for me to see the age-old theological questions brought up in a completely different context so that different answers are possible. For example: If god is omnipotent, why does god allow children to be enslaved? In this book the answer is: god doesn't, just give it time and the right people to do the work. The joy of inventing different parameters! But I like how it pushes one to reflect back on current, real-life issues: give it time and the right people to do the work.

Of course, conversely, I think god in this instance is a being on a space-ship who communicates to the oracles through a computer interface and likes music... but it does cause one to reflect about it all anyway.

As an aside: Can someone figure out a job for me in which I get paid to read? I'm really good at it.

#4 - I'm not sure this was the best part, but it was the perfect way to end the weekend away: Dear friends of ours had their baby on my birthday & I got to hold him.

What's on my mind...

2010-02-02T10:31:00.005-05:00

First, a WHINE: yet another snow day.

Braggin' on a Friend: frequent commenter alias Kimik (A.C. Leming on the list) has placed as a finalist, in the top 21 in the Writer's Digest Poetry Aside chapbook contest... we keep checking for the winner announcement to be posted today at http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/

Accomplishment: finished up a website for Gary Gavenus who is running for Superior Court Judge. See here.

Progress on Goals: I stayed up until about 2am this morning finishing The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell. If you're like me and like sci-fi mixed with theology, this is a fascinating read. Not general-theoretical theology like Dune, but Judeo-Christian/Catholic theology and a planet on Alpha-Centauri. This is no walk-in-the-park Happy-Christian read, though. Brace yourself (no pun intended). Throw in violence, aliens, healthy marriages, celibacy, human suffering, devout believers, questioning believers, and a healthy dose of atheists. Good mix.

And speaking of goals, local writer Alan Gratz has a great post today about setting goals as a writer/creative person. I can relate... except for the fact that I haven't completed anything or gotten multiple books published like he has... It's a good read. Go!

Another post on the GC-Anthem issue: Here's another good post my brother directed me to on the issue.

I have also emailed my piece to the board at Bethany Christian Schools which has had several discussions about this same matter because of a complaint lodged a few years ago with the IHSAA. As it stands now, because of the complaint, Bethany is not able to host sectional or regional events on behalf of the IHSAA. (Or at least for volleyball and basketball. I guess the state couldn't let Bethany's great soccer fields go as BCS is still asked to host soccer sectionals on occasion...)

Interestingly enough, playing the anthem for a IHSAA event hosted at Bethany wouldn't bother me. Bethany might not even be one of the schools playing in a particular game, and might not be considered the "home" team (by jersey color, etc.). To me this seems entirely different. Additionally there are other regulations a Tournament Host School is required to comply with during sectional games that aren't in place in regular-season games: number of line judges, number of refs, distance of bench to court, and various other peculiarities. Of course, if BCS chose to decline to play the anthem and forgo their ability to host sectionals/regionals I would proudly support them. (If Mennonites are really permitted to be proud.)

Punxsutawney Phil: I have no kind words for that poor groundhog today.

Morning Work

2010-01-30T11:11:00.002-05:00

What we did before 9 am this morning during the freezing rain.

W E A T H E R

2010-01-29T16:36:00.002-05:00

So, I promised the next time the forecast was dire I would not roll my eyes. But the kids were released early from school today a good 4 hours before the first flake fell... However, the flakes are really falling now.

As the locals noted, "The last time Ray's Weather called for a Big Snow..." (See the post below!) And he's calling for a Big Snow again. Just this afternoon, he upped his prediction because the snow started at 4:30 instead of sundown like he'd expected: 12-16 inches is his latest estimate.

I'll probably get out and do some shoveling tonight since the Dr. has to get into the hospital tomorrow morning...

Victory

2010-01-26T11:54:00.005-05:00

I’ve wanted a podium for our poetry reading* ever since we moved from Blue Moon Books to Main Street Books. Periodically I would stop by the used furniture store in town and poke around, ask if they ever saw any at auctions. They’re not so common as you might think. You can’t just pick one up at Target or Wal-Mart (as if you’d really want one from there anyway). I just kept expecting one would turn up. But none ever did.

Finally, I asked a woodworker friend of mine if she’d make one. I was hoping it could be that easy. It’s not, though. We had to meet, in person, at the church, so we could try some out.

“Just something simple,” I said. “Something we can easily carry from the back to the front of the shop once a month. I don’t care if you make it out of old barn wood or scraps. Whatever.”

“Well, how high to you want it?” she asked. “But you’re tall. How big do you want the face? What about the angle of the face? What kind of wood do you want to use? Do you want a shelf? Here,” she thrust a book at me full of photographs of artfully crafted wooden furniture with torn bits of paper marking certain pages. “Which of these do you like? Do you want it solid? or open, so that you can kind of see through it? What do you think about some brushed steel inlayed into the front?”

Then she started musing about gluing the face out of two boards, expansion and contraction, the mellowing of the color of cherry over time. She pondered how many connection points between the face and the pedestal portion and how sturdy it needed to be. “You know some people get nervous and drape themselves all over the podium when they’re up in front of people. You wouldn’t want it to tip over on them. No. That wouldn’t be good.”

We decided on cherry with some lighter maple panels. We chose a height better for women. We chose to make the face big enough to hold two sheets of paper. We chose to make a little shelf just big enough to hold a bottle of water.

“You know,” she said on the phone a few days later. “I was looking at designs for V-shaped podiums, like the one I’m making for you, and they kept calling them Victory Podiums. I guess because of the V shape of the pedestal.”

“Perfect,” I said.

Because it’s a victory that this podium is here; made by a mother of four during the month of December with extended family popping in unexpectedly. It’s a victory that we gather here each month. It’s a victory every time we create, bring our ideas into existence, write them down. It’s a victory when we simply stand up, behind this podium, in front of others and share our work.

(I know that, by strict definition, podium refers to the platform and the lectern is the stand... but in many cases podium is used "incorrectly" as I have used it here. They simply do not use the term victory lectern, and besides, it just doesn't sound as nice.)

* Eve's Night Out is a monthly open-mic reading for women that meets the 4th Friday of the month at 7:30 at Main Street Books in Burnsville. It's for prose writers too. (MSBs is open Saturdays during the month of February.)

GC's Decision to Play the National Anthem

2010-01-23T09:08:00.004-05:00

This is a rather long winded response to the following article and it's other companion pieces.

I deeply regret that I was oblivious to the task force (Come on, though, who are you kidding? It was a committee) on this topic when they were seeking alumni responses. I surely would have sent this in before the decision was made.

An Open Letter to Goshen College,

The issue of playing the national anthem, saying the pledge of allegiance and flying the flag in a church or church school is a charged one for me—one that I have a long personal history with.

When I entered the ninth grade, I made the choice to attend a private Christian high school affiliated with the Mennonite Church. It wasn’t such a stretch since my mother graduated from that same school and I grew up Mennonite. I knew it made me “different,” but there were other kids there who were the same kind of different as me: committed to pacifism, eager to attend college, and rather rooted in traditional, if not agrarian, values. We were rarely put to the test for our counter-culture beliefs because we were surrounded by like-minded peers and teachers in all of our classes.

Then, in my junior year, the Gulf War broke out. Suddenly everyone in the surrounding counties noticed that we didn’t play the national anthem before our basketball games. There were letters to the editor of the local paper. As an athlete playing basketball at the time, it was something we were very conscious of. At away games, people scrutinized us, to see if we were standing respectfully as they sang and saluted. At home games, the visitor section would sing the anthem on their own. (I will add, though, I do not recall a single school being disrespectful during our prayer.) I remember attending a boy’s game at an opposing school where nearly every student in the cheering section waved a flag and during time-outs repeatedly tore across the court in front our cheering section with a large one snapping behind the proud bearer. We even had a few schools drop us from their athletic schedules over the issue.

It would have been easy for the school to change its policy then. But for me, it reinforced the message. As Mennonites, we believe in peace, peace between nations, peace between people. We align ourselves with God’s children, who belong to God regardless of their country. Or loyalty to God supersedes our commitment to our country. This difference, not playing the anthem, allowed us to articulate our beliefs to ourselves and others when such dialog would never have occurred had we simply played the anthem like everyone else.

Finding myself in such a situation in high school was good preparation for my later, though short, career as a public high school teacher and coach. As a religious person employed by a public school I had to be considerate of how I conducted myself with respect for others’ religion or lack thereof.

It is typical for the coach, whether in Indiana, Michigan, or North Carolina (all places I’ve coached) , to lead the team in prayer before each game. Always, I declined to do this. I would attempt to explain to my players that I consider myself a religious person and hold my religious beliefs very dear, but I cannot, out of respect for the separation of church and state, hold a prayer that I’d expect players to join me in. I never forbade them to pray, and often a student leader would step up and begin the Lord’s Prayer.

The next challenge at each game came with the playing of the national anthem. There I would be, standing on the court in front of my players, their parents, other students, the other team, the athletic director who employed me and I would not sing. (Although, I will admit that I often hummed the alto part as an ironic nod to my Mennonite roots.) Each game I coached, I aligned myself with my Mennonite values of not placing my country before my God and God’s children. It wasn’t easy in a new community that knows nothing about Mennonites. And while it scared me that someone might confront me about it, I also welcomed it as an opportunity to express my beliefs.

Last week, at my daughter’s elementary school awards program, set deep in the Appalachian Mountains and Southern Baptist country, I rose, but remained silent as they asked everyone in attendance to say the Pledge of Allegiance. Already we are different here because our northern accents and for being mover-inners. The last thing I want is for my daughter to be ostracized at school, made fun of or taunted. It would have been so easy to just mouth the words, but I didn’t. We are different. We are called to be. I’m sure other parents noticed my silence, but no one has brought it up with me yet. (Though being from a small community, I suspect they’re talking about it.)

I feel I have to take these little stands to teach my children what it means to be Mennonite, to be a pacifist, to be an Anabaptist.

Aligning ourselves with God’s children all over the world is the foundation of our pacifism. Pacifism—our great claim to fame, our right given to us by this country with freedom of religion. Certainly Mennonites might be seen as abusing this freedom of religion because we can claim conscientious objector status as a part of our religious rights. Indeed, how convenient that we refuse to fight to defend the country that gives us such a freedom. How cruel that we expect other mother’s children to die and we would not sacrifice as much ourselves. Point taken.

I know, from high school, how not playing the nation anthem can make people think Mennonites are not patriotic or do not love our country—though this is far from true. I know how people can jump to conclusions, like the ones above, that Mennonites are just chicken, scared of dying or being subjected to the horrors of war. Especially in times of war, like now, when families are grieving the loss of soldiers, how we are perceived by a non-pacifist public is on our minds. Apparently Goshen College wants to be seen as welcoming, as though we are actively trying to mitigate our pacifist stance with the outside world. It also makes me wonder if believing “it is the right decision for the college at this time,” as Brenneman writes, has something to do with recruitment, tuition and finances.

We are not letting go of pacifism, though. In this way we want to be different, to hold ourselves apart from the norm. But the ways in which we hold ourselves apart seem to be growing fewer and fewer.

I am certainly an example of new Mennonite mobility. Currently, the closest Mennonite church to me is almost an hour away, so I have begun attending a Presbyterian Church. I believe it is important to be a part of a community of believers and for my children to have friends in the church. But I do not want to give up the core values of the Mennonite faith. Being “different” is hard for my children and for me, but I feel that is what I am called to do. My children are the only ones in our home church who do not partake in communion, because they have not been baptized. We did not baptize them as infants like other Presbyterians, continuing our Anabaptists convictions. Communion Sundays they remain conspicuously seated while everyone else files up the center aisle. They know they are different, as does everyone else.

Yet that is important to me: to be Mennonite, to be different. Being outside of the Mennonite community I have to make some hard decisions about what beliefs and behaviors define a Mennonite. Sure I’m scared that if one of my sons would be drafted years from now, the government would not honor his conscientious objector status because he did not grow up in a Mennonite Church. And it’s not that I’m trying to take the freedom-of-religion cop-out to keep my sons from dying in a war. I would be proud to send them someplace scary and war-torn as peacemakers. It’s like I tell them, I’m not so much scared about them dying as I am them killing someone else. (That’s why I still have not allowed any water guns in our household.)

So, when I read today that my alma mater Goshen College has chosen to begin playing the national anthem before ballgames, I was very disappointed. It seems that a Mennonite College should also do the little things to hold itself apart make itself obviously different from other colleges, because it is. I am hoping Goshen College can remain a bastion of Mennonite belief and behavior in the face of the pressures of the outside world. I hope it can remain a place that opens young people’s minds to new knowledge, a greater understanding of the world, and God’s people. I believe that by refraining from playing the national anthem Goshen College invites dialog. We must continue to dare to be different and be open to the ensuing conversations. I believe one can be Mennonite and patriotic and still respectfully decline to sing/play the National Anthem or say the Pledge of Allegiance. Hopefully I will have a chance to communicate that to my children and the community which I am a part of now. I think that’s what Goshen College taught me.

My Office

2010-01-20T09:06:00.005-05:00

It is my Room of Her Own. Unfortunately, due to Christmas shopping, Christmas vacation, snow days, two hour delays, school awards programs and doctor's appointments, I don't think I've spent a morning here since the beginning of December.

I'm glad to be back.

The room itself isn't much-- maybe 10 by 10. But it's warm in winter, cool in the summer and has two windows: one facing east for the morning sun and one facing north.

Instead of a desk, which would accumulate junk, I chose a kitchen table. I'm going for Spartan: nothing to do here except write.

However, the place does have wi-fi. Which, while it's pretty crucial for a writer these days (and my ability to blog), does provide endless distractions. Today, though, I'm using my powers and the powers of wi-fi for good purpose. (No Bejeweled Blitz. Yet.)

The sad part is that I've realized I'll probably stop renting this space at the Heritage Center this summer. I just won't be able to justify it. With all the kids home for the summer and the garden and yardwork, it's unlikely that I'll use it much. And then, in the fall, once all three kids are in school, I'll have a quiet house; no sense in driving into town for a quiet space.

There are a lot of great people who have studios here: the Parkway Playhouse, the Yancey County Literacy Council, several artists, MAC Photo Studios, and we always meet here for Literary Festival planning sessions. I'll miss rubbing elbows with other folks pursuing creativity

as a major part of their lives.

But for today, I'm very glad to be here, typing away.

If anyone in the Burnsville area is looking to rent studio space, you should seriously consider The Heritage Center. It's an old dormitory that has been renovated to accommodate artists' studios on the second floor. The first floor has a few offices, a meeting room/recording studio, and some display/gallery space. Rent is very reasonable, and some of the rooms have tile floors and big laundry sinks in them for painters/potters etc. Click here to find out more.

The Test

2010-01-18T18:10:00.004-05:00

So, last week American Idol and Project Runway began new seasons. I watched.

Last night the 2-hour season opener of 24 began. I watched. I'll watch the hour-long new episode of 24 again tonight, I'm sure. And on Thursday, the new season of Burn Notice will begin. I'm quite certain I'll watch that too. Along with PR and Idol. Sigh.

I did, however finish Barrayar by Lois McMasters Bujold last week too. Thumbs up. She's creating a very convincing world/universe. I like the quirky main character, even though she's a Betan frill.

Also, I do have the rough draft of two new poems.

So it's not all bad.

2010 - Resolution/Goal #1

2010-01-07T10:15:00.002-05:00

Every year I say I really should watch less TV. But I end up getting addicted to various shows: 24, the many CSIs, Project Runway, Burn Notice, American Idol (I know, I know) and now add to that list Glee. The problem is that they have continuing story-lines that I just can't let go!

I do believe this show is my favorite. New episodes on Jan. 21.

This year, though, I'm taking a different approach to watching less TV. The real reason I think so much TV watching is bad, is because it takes up my evening time... time I should be spending reading. (That is a much more helpful hobby considering my desire to write...)

In 2010, I resolve to read between 2 and 4 books a month (with a goal of 40 total).

That should significantly cut into my TV watching time. Or, if I find that I'm still able to get my reading done and watch a few shows, perhaps I will feel less guilty and like I'm managing my time better.

I'm well on my way. I finished R. A. Mac Avoy's Tea with the Black Dragon last night. (Thanks, Alessa, for sending that along.) Perhaps I will go make myself a cup of Oolong right now to celebrate a New Year's goal begun.

Winter Weather

2009-12-21T13:30:00.005-05:00

I started rolling my eyes on Thursday when weather.com reported 1-3 inches of snow on Friday and locals were inflating the numbers to 8-10. People here are forever exaggerating the predictions. (Granted, they don't have the first clue how to drive on snow either. My husband and I are frequently appalled at folks who ride their brakes the whole way down a twisty mountain road so they're sure to go slow -- therefore are more safe.)

There wasn't a flake on the ground anywhere when I got the automated message from the Superintendent of Schools announcing an early release from school on Friday because of forecasted snow. Mind you, I grew up in the snow-belt southeast of Lake Michigan where school wasn't called off unless there were 8 inches of accumulation between 3am and 6am and the plows simply couldn't catch up before the buses had to run.

And here they were, calling an early release almost 16 hours before the first predicted flake. Not only that, Friday was a 1/2 day to begin with... which meant the kids would be in school from 8am to 10am. Ridiculous. But true to form, they cancelled school on Friday morning. (Or maybe it was just a 2-hour delay.)

However, it did start snowing and didn't stop for the next 24 hours.

By Friday afternoon, I'd shoveled a few inches off the drive and salted it so the good Dr. could make it up when he got home. We lost power for a few hours on Friday night, but we just snuggled under some blankets next to our gas logs and read Harry Potter. And it came back on before I went to bed. (Some around here didn't have power for 48 hours.)

By Friday night, snow was heavy on all the branches. There wasn't a bit of wind to blow it off -- it just came straight down--kept coming down.

Saturday Morning was a winter wonderland. The limbs of my Japanese Dogwood were all bent to the ground--a predicament it couldn't seem to get itself out of, so I rescued it by banging the limbs with a broom stick and watching them spring back up. Yes, the avalanche of snow inevitably fell on me.

The overnight accumulation also meant we had a lot of shoveling if we ever wanted to leave our place. We estimated that there were about 12 inches on the drive.

Really, it's not Darth Maul under that hood, he's just sporting his new black ski-mask. Regardless of his acts of kindness, the kids were calling him "Arch Enemy" and pummeling him with snowballs from the fort we built for them. Sometimes the orchestrated simultaneous attacks from opposite sides, but they never came out the victors.

It took us about 2.5 hours (with the two of us) to shovel the drive on Saturday. (Myself spending more time on the fort and picture taking, though.) But then I shoveled another 3-4 inches off the whole thing by myself on Sunday. (Even my toes are sore from clenching them to keep from slipping on the slushy slope. Not to mention my back and glutes.)

All told, most of my neighbors and friends are estimating around 22 inches... and I'd say I fully agree with about 18 of those. Regardless, it is unquestionably the largest snow we've had in the seven winters I've lived here. So I'll try to keep my eye-rolling in check next time.

Football Update

2009-12-21T13:26:00.003-05:00

It's hardly an update... being so late, but the MHHS football lost the state game. All reports were that they played their best, though. It's one thing when you know you didn't play up to your potential, and I think it's another thing entirely when you play your best and the opponent simply plays better.

Congrats to the coaches and team, though. Y'all have really given Yancey County a boost of pride.

Mountain Heritage Football -- State Game

2009-12-11T07:21:00.002-05:00

There is nothing like a small high school making it to the State Championship to make a community go crazy. Frankly, I think it's great! For one, it's given our little Appalachian town an infusion of pride. The kids and I are even planning to wear green and black today--as, I'm sure, everyone is. There are signs all over town, balloons, people with their faces painted... And school has even been cancelled so that everyone can make it down to the game. Local shops and restaurant are closing too.

photos by John Fletcher of the Asheville Citizen-Times

read their article here

(FYI, that long gradual hill behind the credit union is the end of the 5K I ran)

The team plays tonight in Chapel Hill. I won't be there, but you can be sure I'll be following updates. Mountain Heritage High School has never won a State Championship in any sport in the history of the school. Seems like it'd be an excellent time to change that!

As an aside: I would have to agree with the woman on FB who commented, it's been great to see so much excitement about middle-aged women.

God willing and the creeks don't rise

2009-12-09T09:50:00.002-05:00

But the creeks do rise. From the house or the car, noting that water is up four feet from normal is a mathematical calculation. It is another thing entirely to watch it seethe, only feet away from its brown currents as I wait for the school bus: It roars, leaving the grass flattened as evidence of its volume. Occasionally a dark limb will show itself among the opaque ripples to be sucked into obscurity again. What else might lurk there is an unspoken threat.

We have a new railroad tie on our bank.

Winter rains are a different beast: with nothing growing to drink the water and the ground already saturated with a week of drizzly days, 16 hours of steady rain just ran down slopes, filled ditches, funneled into branches, poured into creeks... and I can't imagine what the Toe River looks like.

It is a temporary terror this time, though.

They are already falling again, the creeks, sweeping the topsoil and stray twigs to new locales. And this morning a rare sun burned off the mists and reflected in a thousand puddles, brighter for all the darkened earth and wet trees.

Christmas Wanting

2009-12-04T11:08:00.002-05:00

In the backlash of finding my Christmas present early, (a not-very-well-hidden vacuum cleaner), I have reverted to childhood wishing. The wanting of things you don't need, might never use, or play with--just wanting to want. I could write a list on a roll of cash-register paper.

From qacreate's etsy shop, these are my current favorites:

Tell me these aren't cool! They're made from old typewriter keys. I love, love, love them!

The Fashion Issue

2009-12-01T11:26:00.001-05:00

The fashion issue of WNC Woman is out including my article "The Fashion Birthday Party."

Thanksgiving Weekend by the Numbers

2009-11-30T10:09:00.002-05:00

Total of people fed at Thanksgiving Dinner: 16

Pies: 5

Turkeys: 2 (one smoked and one deep fried)

Quarts of Soup Stock from boiling the bones: 7

$ raised for the Library Expansion Project in with the group performance of "The Christmas that Almost Wasn't" by Ogden Nash: 500

She was Nell in the reading and I was the Tree.

Volleyball Games: 3 (wins)

New-To-Us Red Vans: 1

Lbs. left until I reach my self-imposed Holiday Weight Limit: 0

Pumpkin Oatmeal Cookies with Cinnamon Chips

2009-11-25T10:43:00.009-05:00

Here's the recipe (with my modifications). The original comes from Esther Shank's Mennonite Country-Style Recipes & Kitchen Secrets. Although I'll just let you in on the Mennonite kitchen secrets right now. First, when in doubt, add dough. Second, Miracle Whip really is a salad dressing. However, that second one should be kept a secret.

Now for baking the cookies I crave every fall and can rarely have because of the elusive cinnamon chips.

Cream together thoroughly.

1 1/2 c margarine

1 cup of sugar (I used 2/3rds)

2 cups of brown sugar (I used about 1 1/2)

Isn't everything better with real butter?

Add, beating until fluffy.

2 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

Yes, I use half whole wheat and it turns out fine. The pumpkin's added moisture helps to mitigate the crumbly dryness that often accompanies whole wheat cookies.

Sift dry ingredients together (except oatmeal) and add alternately with pumpkin.

(I never sift anything... but I do add it alternately.-- it makes it much easier)

4 cups flour (I used 1/2 whole wheat)

2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

2 cups quick oatmeal

1 3/4 cups canned pumpkin (I use an entire small can rather than measuring)

Stir in 1 cup of chocolate chips -- but this

is where I use the cinnamon chips! (and I add more...)

Drop by spoon onto greased baking sheet. Bake at 350 degrees for 10 to 12 minutes.

Makes about 7 dozen (She says 10 dozen, but those'd be some tiny cookies.)

We made a double batch and have been eating them like crazy. They're really not so bad for you, as far as cookies go. The plate in the picture is for Darell, the manager of our local Ingles Grocery, who was kind enough to special-order several cases of cinnamon chips when I repeatedly asked him if they were going to get any in this season. THANK YOU!

Book Binge

2009-11-24T07:39:00.002-05:00

Um. 750 pages in the last 2 or 3 days. I've had a hard time pulling myself out of the clouds and areal dragon battles enough to write blogs. I'm a new Naomi Novik fan.

Coming soon... the Ingles Grocery here special-ordered cinnamon chips for me and a friend let me know they were in... so I've made my favorite Oatmeal-Pumpkin cookies with cinnamon chips!

Comment Oversight

2009-11-21T07:52:00.002-05:00

I realized recently that I had my comment settings set for "only people with a google id." I've changed that now so that more of you can leave comments if you'd like. : ) Oops & Sorry.

Prayer-Action

2009-11-20T16:24:00.003-05:00

The idea rearranged my thinking when I read over the preschool Sunday School materials last month. Our prayers need to match our actions and our actions must match our prayers. In the children’s story, the parents pray every evening with their sick daughter that she will get better. Meanwhile, they help her rest and stay calm, take her to the doctor and give her the prescribed medicine. Their prayers were answered.

Again, last week, reading about Huna and Hawaiian/Polynesian spiritualism, I ran into their concept of prayer which is always hyphenated with action: prayer-action. In their system of thought, through meditation, their thinking-self must communicate the prayer or desire to their physical bodies. Then, through the energy created in their physical selves and with the cooperation of the body, this idea can be sent to their spiritual selves – the part that is connected to the life-force of the universe. Once this is done, the physical self, the thinking self, and the spiritual self all work together in bringing this desire/prayer into reality. (I find some interesting parallels to Parent/Son/Holy Spirit in all this.)

The author of the book postulates that many Christian prayers go unanswered because they are only thoughts without actions. In her view, many Christians “turn it over to God” after only formulating the wish or desire and then wait to see what will happen.

Prayer-action also reminds me of Julia Cameron’s anecdote from The Artist’s Way: You are late for the bus. Pray that you are able to catch it, and run!

The passage from Thessalonians “pray without ceasing” also comes to mind. If our actions are the physical manifestation of our prayers, then indeed, we unwittingly pray all day. We may simply need to be more mindful of what prayers we send into the world through our actions.

But, you may say, might not the daughter have gotten well without the prayers her parents said every night? She had gone to the doctor, was resting, and taking her medicine…

Does it matter how a prayer is answered?

Much Better Today

2009-11-19T16:05:00.001-05:00

I've been taking it easy (thanks to my mother-in-law who took the boys for the day). So, I was able to stay horizontal most of the morning, thus keeping my back relaxed.

Balance seems to be a reoccurring theme for me of late, and I've been working on being balanced and relaxed in my body today. Align my spine and relax my shoulders... and that should keep me from developing compensating knots. Plus ibuprofen and the occasional muscle relaxer.

From what I've heard about whiplash, today and tomorrow are supposed to be my worst days. But I'm not so bad right now -- better than I'd expected.

New Plans

2009-11-18T09:22:00.000-05:00

Everyone is OK. I'm the worst off with side whiplash, because I was turned around, looking at the kids when we got hit. My husband had to come to a sudden stop, enough to make me turn forward and put my hand on the dash, but he stopped in time.

I remember thinking, Whew. He's a good driver. And turned back to look at the kids.

Then bam and the airbags exploded. I recall pushing it down so that I could see... but thankfully I must have removed my hand from the dash when it deployed, or I likely would have broken my wrist or arm. Then I was out of the van, forcing the sliding door open and getting kids (who were all crying and moving (good signs)) out and over the guard rail. I think I've watched too many action movies where vehicles explode after accidents. I just know I saw fluids leaking out of the bottoms of several of the cars involved (there were six) and I wanted everybody O-U-T.

I don't think anyone in the six cars was seriously injured... it was our car that was hit first, and therefore the hardest, and we're fine. The child in the back-right of the van is fine, wasn't even hit with any flying debris from the shattered window. (We did find someone's blinker plastic in the front seat of our van and could not locate our garage door opener anywhere.) Our children did shed a lot of tears, but most of those were motivated by our inability to go bowling after the accident.

Now, it's shopping for a new van, insurance companies, sore ribs, and a stiff neck. Any of which could be contributing to this headache. But there is ibuprofen for that!

Preparing for Winter

2009-11-17T10:22:00.000-05:00

My body seems to want to put on 15 lbs. I'm nibbling constantly and craving highly processed starches--namely toast. I figure this is to keep me warm in the winter, but my husband tells me this is flawed logic and 15 lbs. wouldn't be enough.

Hmmm.

But I'm preparing for winter in other ways: books. The only thing better than ordering a big batch of used books from Powells.com is getting them in the mail a weeks or so later. Yes, I'm conflicted about ordering a box of used books because the author receives no royalties, but at least I'm doing it through an independent bookstore, right?

Question of the Day:

What makes me a bigger geek?

a. I ordered 7 dragon books

b. I owned the complete set of Harry Potter books except #2

c. out of all these books, I picked up Radical Pacifists in Antebellum America first

d. I seem to have ordered 2 of the same book

e. this stack of books joins 13 other to-reads on my nightstand

A Writing Weekend: Do the Work

2009-11-15T20:56:00.000-05:00

To answer a question from a commenter, this is what my writing weekends are like:

Some people like to go visit friends or exotic locations, see movies or tour historic sites. All I want is peace and quiet and the chance to have sustained thought. Raising three kids, saying yes to too many other obligations... all of it leaves me little chance for introspection and that's something I need. So occasionally, I take off for a weekend. (This is all pre-arranged with my husband, of course.)

I get a hotel room close to home (so I don't waste time driving someplace) with wifi (so I can use my laptop), and I book through Hotwire (so it's not too expensive - though I realize the ability to do this kind of thing is a real luxury). Then I hole up, meditate, and write.

This is all very "To Room Nineteen" (by Doris Lessing), I know. ("To Room Nineteen" is what Michael Cunningham alludes to in The Hours, in case you were wondering. Aside from Mrs. Dalloway.)

I use this time to knock out a big chunk of writing. It is hard to sustain momentum at home when I pick up an idea or train of thought only to put it right back down to fix another snack or meal, play Uno, unload the dishwasher, sweep the floor, negotiate for three arguing children, or wash sheets. By the evening, I'm drained enough that the thought of sitting down to do some hard thinking and writing... well, it just doesn't happen very often.

I don't really need organized writing retreats or conferences right now... I just need the time to get my ideas down on paper. I'm sure there will come a time and place for such events. Right now, though, I just need to do the work.

Progress report from the weekend, Part 2: I have nearly finished revising the first 30 pages of the book and have renamed all the characters that needed renaming.

12 Bones on my writing weekend

2009-11-14T20:56:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite parts of being "away" on a writing weekend is that I get to eat wherever I want, whenever I want. No negotiating with anyone! My first choice for lunch was 12 Bones. I'd never eaten there before (despite hearing fantastic things), because I'm not often in Asheville during the hours it's open M-F 11-4. But for some reason, I had a mental block about all that when I showed up today, on a Saturday, determined to eat there.

Sweet serendipity! Today was one of the two Saturdays in a given year it is open. (Thanks to the River Arts District tour.) Smoked serendipity, might be more accurate too. I ate every morsel on my plate. Yum.

As for the writing part of the writing weekend: I have completed the "treatment" for the play-in-progress. Now onto revising the first few old-old-old chapters of a book. Current challenge: deciding on names.

pacifist government leads to overturned stones

2009-11-12T10:26:00.000-05:00

I'm doing a little research about pacifist governments-- if they really existed--what they might have looked like, what principles guided them, how such ideas played out in the reality of a war-prone world. Are these governments/groups necessarily religious? Naturally, I'm starting with William Penn and Gandhi.

Reading today, I ran across this quote by Penn:

If you would know God and worship and serve God as you should do, you must come to the means he has ordained and given for their purpose. Some seek it in books, some in learned men; but what they look for is in themselves, though not of themselves, but they overlook it. The voice is too still, the seed too small and the light shineth in darkness; they are abroad and so cannot divide the spoil. But the woman that lost her silver found it at home, after she had lighted her candle and swept her house.

It's the last line in particular that fascinates me. I'd never really considered this interpretation before, for some reason. I always thought about it as the same parable as the shepherd with the 100 sheep who won't rest until he has found the one lost one... I thought of God as the shepherd always searching for us... and appreciated very much that Jesus told a parallel parable featuring a woman as the personification of God searching for us (the lost coin) until we are found.

But Penn turns this on it's head. The idea that we must search for God within us by cleaning house. I like it. I like it very much.

Of course, this calls to mind my favorite Bible verse that's not in the Bible, but from the Apocryphal Book of Thomas. And the Doresse translation is best:

Jesus says: "I am the light which is on them all. I am the All, and the All has gone out from me and the All has come back to me. Cleave the wood: I am there; lift the stone and thou shalt find me there!"

Lifting stones and cleaving wood. That's hard work. But God asserts God's presence is in all things--living or no. The work is my job.

I also ran across this poem today...

Cleave a piece of wood, I am there -- by Tom Hansen (published in Literary Review, Fall 1993)

They decided to take Jesus at his word and got a piece of wood (it happened to be shaped just like a head) and planned to do exactly what he said, but first they sat it on the floor and stared at it for days ... Nothing happened. No God there.

"Well, what the Hell!" they said and got an ax and cleaved it hard and heard it all at once explode. But all they saw inside was splintered wood. Then faint and aromatic, as if from far away: a scent not quite familiar yet not strange ...

Outside they nailed the head together, bored in eyes and tamped them tight with toilet paper soaked in cedar oil. Then touched a match to each and watched. The spiritus snaked up - and after dark they saw them ... Red and staring. Burning blind.

All night long they sat there almost willing to believe: what they saw before them must be true. Above them wheeled the galaxies. Within them atoms hummed. Compacted knots of energy set free by some strange wind.

World Series of Poker

2009-11-10T20:19:00.000-05:00

I'm about to watch the final table of this year's Main Event in the World Series of Poker. These players never fail to amaze me. They must simultaneously input all kinds of mathematical information: odds of catching the cards they need, pot sizes, odds of their opponent catching the card he/she needs based on what the player thinks they have... And then account for all the other social information: how the opponent sits, blinks, bets, shifts... how they played in the last hand... It blows my mind.

Lately, my husband and I have even been getting a pack of beef jerky to nibble on during the Tuesday night airings, since Jack Links is one of the sponsors. We can only watch so many of those Sasquatch commercials before the cravings start up... I'm ready to open the pack now.

My personal fave at the final table: Phil Ivey.

(Though Jennifer Harmon is my all-time favorite. Did you know she's a mother of twins too?)

Swift Kick in the Pants

2009-11-09T10:34:00.001-05:00

This is a public thank-you to the editors of WNC Woman Sandi Tomlin-Sutker and Julie Savage Parker. Twice in the last six months they have pushed me to write essays for their publication when I would have thought I was too busy to produce. It's a lesson I'm learning through experience, but not one I would have accomplished without their prompting.

The first piece was on The Design Gallery in Burnsville. And the second will appear in their fashion-themed December issue about my daughter's Fashion Birthday Party. Keep your eyes open for it. The publication is free and can be picked up countless places in the Western North Carolina region.

I am also very thankful that I have writer friends who are willing to proof-read at a moment's notice! (I'll confess, too, I suppose I'm begrudgingly appreciative for a grammar-freak brother who loves nothing better than to point out his older sister's errors from half-way around the world. Ha!)

some VERY basic volleyball passing technique

2009-11-05T18:45:00.001-05:00

This is for a former student of mine who is now doing some teaching... and is trying orchestrate a recreational-level volleyball game. HAVE FUN!

First - the HANDS - the most important part is to have the fat part of the thumbs together and the thumbs aligned and parallel. This means that your "platform" for passing is even. If, say, your left thumb is higher or over the right thumb, this will inevitably make your left wrist higher than your right, and your left forearm higher than you right. Subsequently all of the balls you passed will shank off to your right. Having bad hand positioning can make all your anticipation and ability to move fast be for naught.

You can see that my preference is to ball my left hand into a fist and cup my right around it.

Second - the ARMS - hold them straight out in front of you. Hunch your shoulders a little. Believe it or not, you're not really going to swing your arms at all. Whatever you do, don't swing your arms higher than your shoulders.

Third - the FEET - place them just a little wider than your shoulders with your right foot a bit further forward. (If you're left-handed, it'll come naturally to put your left forward.)

Fourth - the LEGS - bend them. Get low to receive the ball and extend your back leg and come up through the ball. The ball should go the direction your hips and shoulders are facing.

Of course... you have to do this each and every time you pass the ball... AND that ball is not going to come right to where you're standing every time. So, you're going to have to move to get yourself into this position so that you can pass it. If you have to run, run with your hands apart and then put them together at the last second. If you have to go to one side, shuffle over there to keep your hips and shoulders facing where you want the ball to go.

Passing is the absolute key to the game. Nothing happens without it. Though sadly, it's the passers on the team who never get enough credit for their skills. They're the ones who start the offense. They're the ones who prevent the other team from getting a kill. It all depends on them.

Barbara Kingsolver reading from The Lacuna

2009-11-03T12:20:00.001-05:00

She has enough class and clout that when Barbara Kingsolver's editors presented her with her book tour schedule for The Lacuna and asked her if there were any cities they'd missed, she added Asheville. (After all, the latter half of the book takes place there.) Not only did she add Asheville, where I heard her read last night, she added it first, before the release date.

Apparently this caused some consternation and hyperventilation on the part of the marketing department, but it happened, because, really, who is going to argue with Barbara Kingsolver?

She appeared on stage in red boots, and dark clothing accented by a bright red scarf decorated with shiny silver somethings that made it glitter--and all the poise in the world.

Do I have to tell you she is one of my favorites?

She tried not to give too much away reading carefully selected parts of the story, frequently saying things like, It's complicated. You'll figure it out. Though she did call attention to the fact that parts of it are written as journal entries by a boy/man who wants to disappear, so never uses the first person. This feat caused her to rewrite some scenes close to one hundred times she said, trying to find the voice, to make it sound authentic and not contrived or stilted.

She read with a fantastic Spanish accent the parts that happened in Mexico. She no doubt learned that during her years in Tucson, where I first met her at a book signing while I was nannying between college years. And the parts that happened in Asheville were read with an authentic southern Appalachian lilt and sway that she would have learned in her youth and hear now where she lives in Virginia.

She told us we were the only audience she would read the Asheville part to. She wouldn't give that much away at other readings. We clapped and cheered for her and our good fortune.

Though I could have listened to her read the whole novel, I particularly liked the question and answer period.

Unlike some authors who begin with a period of history they're fascinated with, or a voice that starts speaking to them, she begins with a big question. A "big question so compelling that everyone would be compelled by it." Then she begins to write her way to "some sort of illumination" for herself and her readers.

She likened it to taking walk with her "favorite kind of friend" who lets her talk and talk about her problems and then at the end of the walk turns to her and says Good. Now what do you think you should do?

The book, then, should do that for the reader, once they are done. It should be that friend asking the reader, Now what should you do?

For the past 10-20 years, she said, the Big Question that had been getting at her was the tension between art and politics in America and America's discomfort with self-examination (which is what art does -- prompt examination and reflection) of itself as a nation. The idea that self-examination of our country is un-patriotic or un-American seemed absurd to her. "How can you be un-American?" Other countries laud their political-artists. "Have you ever heard of someone being called un-French?" she asked, then laughed. "Well, they do call people un-French, but that has to do with food!"

In the 1950s the US created a committee to examine un-American behavior and subsequently censored artists, so this is where she began to look to answer her Big Question. She also wanted to examine why some people get erased from history, why their contributions are forgotten.

These were the questions that led her through the writing of The Lacuna which means two things. First, it can be a cave, and one that is under the water. The other meaning is more literally "the missing part of a story." While she admits it's not the greatest title for someone who doesn't know the meaning of the word, it really was the right title, so she insisted.

Each novel she writes, she tackles a different Big Question, because, she says, "I wouldn't trouble you if it weren't important." I think that sums it up well, why her work resonates with so many people.

The best part of the evening for me was her insistence that mothering and being a writer were the perfect balance. When she wakes up, she heads first to the coffee pot, takes her daughter out to the school bus (she jokes the school bus is her Muse), and then it's to her office. "When I get to my desk, I don't waste time," she explains. She loves the revision process best, how she can "fabricate" -- make fabric -- by weaving together the sentences so that they are all connected to each other. In fact, she claims never to have had writers block, because she never had any time for it.

Then, after a day of talking to imaginary people she is pulled back from "barely controlled lunacy" by her mothering obligations, namely making dinner. Thus there is a balance that allows for both a grounding in reality and time to lose herself in her imagination.

One more year until the school bus muse visits my house. Until then, I can start re-framing the way I think in a more positive way: motherhood and being an author are the perfect balance.

Restaurant Review - Bonnie & Clyde's

2009-10-31T16:32:00.000-04:00

And when I say the middle of nowhere, I mean 15 minutes from my house which is--the middle of nowhere.

Here is where you're headed--or need to be: Loafer's Glory and more specifically Bonnie & Clyde's.

View Larger Map

What you're looking for is a unremarkable one-story building with beige vinyl siding and a neon OPEN sign.

Why you're going is for some of the best burgers around. The fries aren't so shabby either.

Like an idiot, I've known about this place the entire six years I've lived here, wanted to go, but just never had--until last night. Let me tell you, the only way they can get away with having a dining area that seats around thirty is their remote location. Otherwise the place would be packed. As it was, our waitress was deftly moving customers she knew by name to other tables to accommodate other regulars.

Burger King's Angry Burger is so named because it's

mad it's not as good as Bonny & Clyde's Very Spicy Burger.

The food is good enough, that were it located in a college town and open until 2am the owners would have already retired in the Bahamas. It's not that the food is refined or gourmet -- it's not. It just lives up to the promise it makes and then some. I was going to take a picture one bite into my burger, but forgot all about that plan until halfway through.

Their burgers aren't thick, but to compensate, you can easily double or triple your patty-to-bun ratio. Besides, the flavor more than compensates for the volume. Next time, I'm trying their Mushroom Swiss Burger and will, once again, get a side of fried okra. (I may have been born in the Midwest, but I love my fried okra!) My husband was all about the chili-cheese fries (a little heavy for me), though they were very tasty.

Mitchell County is still dry (meaning you can't buy alcohol anywhere but Spruce Pine) and you can't get a beer with your meal, but it's still worth it. Other rural mountain stereotypes you can leave at home. Our waitress was chatting up the other diners about leaving to pursue her master's degree. So tip well.

Eve's Night Out

2009-10-29T07:52:00.000-04:00

For the past 4 years (when I inherited the position from Mendy Knott), I have hosted a monthly open-mic reading for women. Many of us are poets, but quite a few have written novels, personal essays, and songs in addition to poetry. Each woman is invited to bring her own words, or another woman's words that have inspired her in some way, and share them with the group. We sign up and take turns reading (usually from a podium). There is no critique or evaluation, though when the evening it done, it is quite common for us to engage each other in small conversations about our work or our lives. When a woman is done reading, we applaud her for sharing her creative work. That is enough.

(Pictured here are some of us on "hat night" this spring. We sometimes do themes.)

The message of the evening: Be creative. Share your creativity.

Speaking in public, in the semblance of formality, is good practice for women to exercise their own voices and presence in a public sphere... building our confidence in our own words, our own experience.

The best trait of our group, though, is the quality of our listening. At some open-mics I've attended, I've felt it was all about the person reading showing off, or wanting to be discovered, or to be approached afterward... but that is not the case with us. I truly believe that most of us come each month to listen to each other, to be inspired by others' words, and to continue to be encouraged/nurtured in our own creative ventures.

Right now our home is Main Street Books in Burnsville. We meet on the 4th Friday of each month at 7:30 pm. All women are invited. (Men have attended in the past--they just listen though, and are not invited to read.)

It's not like we're trying to be mean to men, we're not. We've just created this space & time for women who focus on the written expression of their creativity/experiences. Likewise, we're not trying to be mean to potters, it's just that we're not a group of potters... we're women who write seeking kindred spirits. (All levels of education and experience are welcome -- published, unpublished, those working on writing as "craft", and those who simply journal.)

We are very proud of the fact that we have been the first place for many women to get up the courage to read. And if you've ever thought about it, come. It's fine if you just listen for a while to get comfortable -- shoot, bring your knitting with you (several others do too).

Here is a list of the women who either attend currently or have in the past who blog. You can get a sense of us from these. We're a diverse group!

The Writing Life – Katey Schultz http://thewritinglife2.blogspot.com
McCotta’s Blog – Cathy Larson Sky http://cathylarsonsky.blogspot.com
Novel Knitting – Ruth Price http://novelknitting.blogspot.com
The Magic of Hands – Stephanie Berry http://stephanietberry.blogspot.com
Rambling Thoughts and Thoughtful Ramblings - Susan Bell http://susanswritinglife.blogspot.com
Blogging My Way to a Better Life – Stephanie Stark-Polling http://bloggingmywaytoabetterlife.blogspot.com
A Larrapin Garden – G. Leigh Wilkerson http://ozarksalive.org/larrapin
A Creative Life – Mendy Knott http://arkansasscribbler.blogspot.com
womenswrites - Beth Brown http://womenswrites.livejournal.com
Soul Varmint Woman - Wesley Middleton http://soulvarmintwoman.blogspot.com

Chrysalis

2009-10-27T07:27:00.000-04:00

The second chrysalis did not open. (See post below.) I have put the branch on which it hangs in my home office where I do my writing.

Books I've Been Reading

2009-10-26T10:13:00.000-04:00

First, the animal themed covers--which may be their only similarity.

Mayhem in Mayberry: Misadventues of a P.I. in Southern Appalachia by Brian Lee Knopp

I was curious about this book since it's a self-published book by a PI who lives in my county, and also has an endorsement on its cover by Elizabeth Gilbert of Eat, Pray, Love. (Although juxtapositions abound in this book.) Further, a friend Lucy Doll, raved about it. I am also a frequenter of Malaprop's and know Linda (manager of Malaprops & the author's wife) from working on the literary festival... and I was curious about her husband who I knew next to nothing about.

What's funny is that at the literary festival this year, he came in with Linda in the morning and then left, just as I was walking in to the Town Center Foyer where the books are set up. I can't exactly remember how I suspected he was her husband; maybe he gave her a good-bye kiss or their ease and familiarity tipped me off, but I wondered. He walked right past me on the way out the door and I turned to a friend, "Is that Linda's husband?"

"I think so," the friend said swiveling to get a better look. "I've always been curious about him."

"Me too," I said, not having read his book yet. But I can't for the life of me remember what he was wearing, what he looked like, or any distinguishing features. I think he had a hat on.

Read the book. You'll see why this is funny.

The book itself is wrenching and hilarious in turn, a wry portrait of where I live, and of one man's decade-long job of detailed observation of it. (Maybe it was closer to two.) I don't want to spoil any of the twists and turns. Suffice it to say, he's got a wicked sense of humor, a deft handle on the craft of writing, patience (the like of which I don't understand), and a great & deep love & devotion for the souls in his life. How he didn't end up a jaded wreck after what he did for a living is a great testament to his fortitude and will.

Save the Cat by Blake Snyder

I'm still reading this book, because it is a how-to on writing screenplays. No, I'm not writing a screen play, but writing for the stage is very similar, and since I'm a complete novice at such things I'm reading it. I like the way all the steps (plot-lines, B-story, character development) are broken down and I am finding it easy, informative, useful reading. It is complete with "assignments" and clear tasks for moving a project along.

We'll see if I follow them and move the project along!

The Other Wind by Ursala K. LeGuin

OK. I picked this one up because there was a dragon on the front. However, I also wanted to get back to reading some quality fantasy. LeGuin insists you can write fantasy that doesn't have to be of epic battles, great death, great evil for no reason, or even the typical "hero." I agree. That's what I'd like to shoot for myself, so I'm re-reading her. Her books are not tomes, like so many are, and she uses simple, clear language without a lot of consonants or world-invented words. For example, she uses "miles per hour" and has goats that act like goats that orient us easily. She doesn't have to invent a new kind of animal to make readers feel they are someplace new. Thus she doesn't get caught having to "explain" so much to the reader. Note to self. Many notes to self while reading this one. She's amazing.

Finally, The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield

I've just started this one for book club. So far so good. The main character is utterly devoted to reading and losing herself in books. Hmmm. I think I'll be able to relate!

The Metaphor of Metamorphosis

2009-10-21T14:17:00.000-04:00

A month ago, I was able to attend my daughter's school field trip to the WNC Nature Center for their presentation on the life cycle of the butterfly. I thought I knew everything there was to know about the metamorphic process, but I didn't.

I knew monarchs laid their eggs on milkweed plants (the only host plant monarch caterpillars eat) and so I always let a few grow in the corner of my garden. We were able to take a few into the kids' class , and I ended up taking a few into the house for myself too.

This photo of a butterfly egg I took at the Nature Center is not a monarch, though, since it is clearly not on a milkweed. I'm not sure what kind it is.

I knew from reading Eric Carle's The Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar that caterpillars eat like mad once they hatch and get very fat -- quickly.

Often they seem to tap a main vein in the leaf and suck out the milk. Then they perch on the edge and gnaw, very methodically, carving a deeper and deeper arc into the leaf. They operate like a typewriter return at the end of a row.

munch-munch-munch - BING -whr-clack

munch-munch-munch - BING - whr-clack

I knew about chrysalises and the two week period. The part I didn't know is the part that nobody knows or really understands: what happens inside the chrysalis. The Nature Center guide put it in 2nd-grader terms that jarred me. Once the chrysalis is formed, the caterpillar turns to complete gush.

At this point my mind leaps to the FruFru song from the "Garden State" soundtrack that's helped me recompose myself countless times:

Let go. Jump in. Oh, what you waiting for? It's all right, 'cause there's Beauty in the break-down.

Complete gush. I couldn't get over it, so I looked it up on the web when I got home to make sure I had it right. Sure enough. Gush.

But then, from their imaginal discs, they reform those raw materials into something completely new: wings, legs, antennae... That's really what they're called: imaginal discs. Something within the caterpillar is encoded so that, when the time is right, they can

call into reality something only imagined previously.

I know the butterfly metaphor is used to the point of triteness, but the whole gush & imaginal discs part really got me. I latched onto the metaphor as I thought about my own writing: from my own imagination and the raw materials present (all the books I've read, experiences in my life, the nuts & bolts of the writing craft) I could create something new. I could create myself new -- as writer -- with wings. I could create -- books.

So, I began scouring the milkweed plants at our house. I sure saw lots of caterpillars, more than 20. But I didn't see any chrysalises. So, any remaining caterpillars got transferred inside where I could watch the process. You can see the ones above. The green chrysalis is only a few days old, whereas it's pretty obvious when they're about to hatch.

One source said that the process of transformation within the chrysalis takes so much energy, that a chrysalis

weighs about one-third less at hatching time than it does when it was first formed. (This also went along nicely with my writer metaphor: I couldn't kid myself that this change was going to be easy.)

The day this guy hatched, I spent the whole afternoon staring at the chrysalis, waiting to capture the moment. I

was going to document this amazing change. Look: it imagined itself into something new.

It's like the seven principles of HUNA (Hawaiian Mysticism):

IKE - our ideas create our reality.
KALA - there are no limits.
MAKIA - energy flows where attention goes.
MANAWA - now is the moment of power.
ALOHA - to love is to be happy with.
MANA - all power comes from within.
PONO - effectiveness is the measure of truth.

Once the emerge, they have to pump the fluid from their large bodies into their wings.

I spent all afternoon as slow witness to wet cloth-like folds straightening. His proboscis, or feeding nose-tube, coiled and uncoiled. His claw-like feet hooked into the branch as he let his wings fill and dry.

His hooked feet. Had you noticed? He only has four. All insects have six legs. Even as caterpillars, when it appears they have more, they only have six true (or reticulated) legs. (The others don't have knees that bend and simply drag along.) But this guy does not. He only has four legs.

Suddenly my happy-go-lucky metaphor took a dire turn into a warning. Obviously something went awry. Not enough to keep him from becoming a butterfly, but he was missing two legs. Did he not have sufficient raw material? Did he not use his imagination enough? What was this saying to me?

He's beautiful, though. Yes? He flew off a few hours later and is probably vacationing in Mexico by now. But I've got my eye on the second chrysalis, which has yet to hatch. It is starting to turn dark, but the wings are not becoming orange. I'm worried. I'm worried that this one has turned to gush, but that I didn't provide enough fresh milkweed during the eating phase. I'm worried that bringing into my home might have disrupted it's imaginal process. (No ironic symbolism there for the creative domestic mother.) I'm worried that when I turn to gush, I'll stay that way instead of doing the hard work, and doing all of it.

So, I'm writing about it.

Burnsville 5K Scamper

2009-10-19T15:03:00.000-04:00

Excuses:

my throat had been sore for a few days, so
I hadn't run since Tuesday
it was 39 degrees
it was drizzling
my knee (which had not been bothering me previously) began acting up after mile marker #2
it's a hilly course
I started too fast (1st mile in 9:14 -- WAY too fast for me)
that hill at the end is bruu-tahl

This is me at the top of the hill, about 300 meters from the end of the race. I crossed the finish line at 30 minutes 32 seconds. I'd wanted to be under 30 minutes, but considering the above excuses, I am OK with that time. It gives me something to work for next year, when the weather will be better. I hope.

photo credit to James Harrison of the Asheville Citizen-Times

Keeping it Together

2009-10-15T15:30:00.000-04:00

I turned the house upside down looking for my datebook, but to no avail. I even bought a new one in the hopes that the old one would turn up. And not even that tried and true method worked.

In the end, I resorted to copying everything down by hand, again, from my Google Calendar. It was a good reminder of all that is coming up, and there were more than a few things that would have "sprung up" on me that, really, I had known about well in advance. So, all in all, I count myself quite fortunate to have had this momentary lapse of responsibility.

Also, I would like to take a moment sing the praises of Google Calendar while I'm on the subject.

This service is nothing new, but it has saved me so much time and so many headaches. I can put things on the calendar, and my husband can access it at his office. Likewise, he can add events, conferences, or evening meetings. (When you have three kids, it can be surprising the things you forget to bring up because you get sucked into the parenting vortex.) Each calendar you add can be color coded so you can keep track at a glance. For instance, I know to look for green on my calendar, because those are things my husband has added -- and I can be reasonably sure he's forgotten to mention to me.

I input the preschool calendar for them each month, and it is shared with all the other preschool parents. So, instead of a separate calendar, it gets incorporated into mine. I also share my calendar with my in-laws so they don't miss any recitals, school programs, or sports games.

Just this year, Google added "Sports Calendars" which I think is a particular boon. By "subscribing" to individual sports teams, it adds the time and opponent of each game of their season. Now I can see when Notre Dame and the Steelers play and fully realize the implications of said games on weekend plans. I know, in advance, the days I can't dawdle talking to people after church and what afternoons are free for a hike on the Parkway. It certainly has cut down on my exasperation and eye rolling.

So, here's to me keeping it together (for the time being), new datebook tucked securely in my purse.

Empty Bowls Dinner on Friday, October 16

2009-10-13T19:02:00.000-04:00

Friday evening, the 1st Presbyterian Church of Burnsville is having an Empty Bowls dinner to benefit the Reconciliation House. 5:30 to 7:30 Stop in any time and support this cause to help feed the hungry here and around the world.

The premise is this:

Local potters donate bowls. A group (in this case, the mission committee of the church) makes a simple soup supper. People are invited to come, buy a bowl to fill with food and eat communally. Then, each person who has donated money to eat gets to keep their bowl to take home as a reminder of how many empty bowls there are in the world. All proceeds are used to fight hunger.

This summer, the Vacation Bible School I coordinated

(and wrote the curriculum for) helped to make some of the bowls for this meal. The emphasis was to learn to "Step Up to the Plate" and serve others as Jesus' example teaches.

While the Empty Bowls grass-roots movement (begun by Burnsville's own Lisa Blackburn & John Hartom in 1990) is not necessarily a religious one, our event is sparked by our belief in Jesus' charge to feed the hungry and clothe the poor.

In that light, Rolf Holmquist (a church member on the planning committee for this event) asked me to write a poem for Friday's meal. So I did, and was able to present it to John on Sunday.

Empty (vb)

Not empty bowls

like the unbreakable kind stacked inside

each other at the department store.

Not empty bowls

like the ones in the queued

refugees’ outstretched hands.

Not empty bowls

like the pieces just-for-pretty

in the potter’s display case.

But Empty Bowls

as invitation:

Come, join us for this meal.

Empty Bowls

as action:

Eat this food. Clean your plate. Feed another.

Empty Bowls

as consciousness:

Do this in remembrance of Me.

If you live in Asheville, consider attending the MANNA Food Bank's 8th Annual Empty Bowls lunch from 11:00 AM- 2:00 PM at the Biltmore DoubleTree Inn. (Also on the 16th.) For $20 your ticket will gain you a great meal, and your choice of a handmade bowl from over 1,000 pieces donated and created for this event. There will also be a “Collector’s Corner” of pieces donated from some of the finest area potters.

The Plural of Chrysalis

2009-10-09T13:51:00.000-04:00

The difference between a new monarch chrysalis and one that is about to open is striking. (And I thought I might not be able to tell.)

More photos and the whole story of this monarch's hatching to come.

Honorable Mention

2009-10-08T12:58:00.000-04:00

It began when my mother told me I should enter a poetry contest a publication she received was having. So, I wrote a poem based on a metaphor my she used in a sermon and entered it. This summer, I was notified that I received an honorable mention in the contest and that at some point this year Spiritual Directors International would use it in a publication. But I didn't know when or in what publication it would appear.

Then I got an email from Mom, forwarded to her by a friend, who had come across it on her own. It appeared in their October e-newsletter and online. What I particularly like is the context in which the poem appears -- with the opening reflection and the closing thoughts.

But here is the poem on its own.

When You Are Weary of Circles

Even when the map is gone, when
you’ve noted again that same patch of field lilies---
Still, you are not without means:

Choose a nearby tree to lean on while you
turn back to mark one behind you,
and one before, thus align yourself,

like Orion’s belt, in the middle of three
landmarks. In this way go
around mossy boulders or through creeks,

walking ever in a steady course
out of the pathless wild.
For when you gain the outmost tree,

look back at what had been the middle,
then look ahead, set some new goal in that line,
and begin again, narrowing the distance

to the place you will rest next.
From tree to tree, ever in threes,
you can continue, making your way forward

believing what is within your grasp is enough
to lead you to the unknowable all.
You may miss the shortest route to comfort,

may pass by a summer cabin in the wood.
But in time, you will find a paved road, see
a barn in the distance, or hear your name being called.

And while you go, you will attend
the land you traverse, intend
the path you take in your journey to be found.

October Mountain Views

2009-10-07T09:53:00.000-04:00

Can you blame me for stopping the car on my way into preschool?

Interesting Theory

A Make-It-Work Moment

Writer Friends

Calling for Words

Open to the New

Collections

Ahhh! Literary Festival

Guest Blogging

In Praise of MiLo Acres

Writing Weekend

Trailer - Part IV

Dialect - Part III

Super Photo for the Play

Researching the Play - Part II

Writing the Play - Part I

Next

Trouble & Goals Reached

Wow. Since February?

Latest Publication-- A Peace Poem/Prayer

How *The Help* Helped

Groan.... Running

Joint Show Coming Soon...

Ironies

Excuses and Resolutions (old and new)

Review of "Eggtown and Other Stories" by Zack Clark Allen

Kirkin' o' the Tartan

Reading Scheduled

Frosty Mornings

Get yourself to the mountains!

Why do writers write?

Reading (Binge)

The Deed Gets Done

Tomorrow

The Life of a Carnivore

Loafing Under Trees

Carolina Mountains Literary Festival

Threshold

Early Birds

July Already?

Long Quiet

Goal Update

Spaghetti Dinner - May 8

AW Assignment (from a few weeks ago)

Found Her

The Quest for the Perfect Dog

AW Update -- up to Week 7

What's coming in April

AW Wk 4

Week 4 - the hardest task, I think

Sunshine on Snow

Artist's Way - Week Three

When the most perfect thing just flies out of your mouth...

Artist's Way - Week Two

The Second Wave

Ash Wednesday & Lent Begins

Artist's Way Update

That's It

Pack Rat

In the back of my brain

Now I am 36

What's on my mind...

Morning Work

W E A T H E R

Victory

GC's Decision to Play the National Anthem

My Office

The Test

2010 - Resolution/Goal #1

Winter Weather

Football Update

Mountain Heritage Football -- State Game

God willing and the creeks don't rise

Christmas Wanting

The Fashion Issue

Thanksgiving Weekend by the Numbers

Pumpkin Oatmeal Cookies with Cinnamon Chips

Book Binge

Comment Oversight

Prayer-Action

Much Better Today

How The Help Helped

Barbara Kingsolver reading from The Lacuna