Is your dog a terrorist?

I think Bodhi's okay--technically he's Scottish, but I worry about Sam the Lab and Atticus . . .

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Still loving Mary Oliver--Almost a Conversation

Almost a Conversation

I have not really, not yet, talked with otter
about his life.

He has so many teeth, he has trouble
with vowels.

Wherefore our understanding
is all body expression—

he swims like the sleekest fish,
he dives and exhales and lifts a trail of bubbles.
Little by little he trusts my eyes
and my curious body sitting on the shore.

Sometimes he comes close.
I admire his whiskers
and his dark fur which I would rather die than wear.

He has no words, still what he tells about his life
is clear.
He does not own a computer.
He imagines the river will last forever.
He does not envy the dry house I live in.
He does not wonder who or what it is that I worship.
He wonders, morning after morning, that the river
is so cold and fresh and alive, and still
I don't jump in.

~ Mary Oliver ~ Link to purchase this poem at: http://www.amazon.com/Evidence-Poems-Mary-Oliver/dp/0807068985/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpi_2

The US Census . . .

Okay, so you're going to take it, right?

I got my warning to be looking for the forms in the mail yesterday, and yeah, you bet I'm going to take it. As a country, we need to get a good idea of who we are, how many we are, and how many representatives we get to send to Washington. Depending on how invasive the questions are, I'll probably even answer most of them.

Andy Rooney says the First Question asks you to identify the person in your home who is "Person #1," as opposed to "Person #2." Yeah. Good luck with that one. At my house, Person #1 is a cat-- if you don't believe me, just ask him. But don't forget the lion tamer gloves . . .


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Hoping for a Happy New Year . . .

Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man. ~Benjamin Franklin

Happy New Year, y'all! Let's hope it's happy, healthy, peaceful and prosperous . . .

Some stuff just sucks . . .

What I did this weekend . . . . *sniff*

Stuckedness: Getting unstuck in Writing

Here are some helpful ways to brainstorm:
1. Ask yourself what is the absolute worst thing that could happen, and what is the absolute best and why?
2. Is there another logical way the story could work?
3. Does the story need to change in some small or large way?
4. Change location. Write some place or time you don't normally write.
5. Change media. You'll be surprised the diffence changing the way your write makes-- I sometimes write longhand in a spiral notebook--just make sure you don't lose the notebook *g*
6. Go back to you character GMC sheets for inspiration. Is there anything you missed? Anything new the character has revealed to you?
7. Interview your character. Ask him or her questions a reporter might ask, Who, What, Why, Where and How? Keep an open mind and leave the questions open-ended and let the character answer. You'd be surpised how well this technique works!
8. Read the chapter that's bothering you before you go to sleep and let your subconscious work on it. Make sure you keep a pen and pad by the bed--I do this one all the time.
9. Skip ahead and come back to it. If it's really giving you grief, leave three xxx's as a place holder so you can easily search for it later, make a note in your master notebook, and move ahead. Let your subconscious and the characters work on it while you're moving forward. The wonderful, magical thing about writing every day is the characters start doing some of the work for you. Let them do it!

My mother wore combat boots . . .

My mother wore combat boots
It used to be an insult.
When I was a little girl in the Seventies, it was a taunt, a remark, “Your mother wears combat boots!”
Only my mother did.
On weekends, when duty called, and during the week, when duty required, combat boots were as much a part of my mother’s uniform as were the smart, polished little navy blue kitten heels. Footwear for military women were not built for comfort or style, but for pride, and for that they were worn, and worn well.

I watched my mother wear those combat boots through many muddy marches, patrols and parades, to celebrate Flag Day, The Fourth of July, The Bicentennial and many other American holidays, but I will always remember the pride I felt helping my mother polish her boots, the stories she told me about the women who came before us, the women who made it possible for us to be take those bold steps, and the women who would take the bold steps beyond.

My mother wore combat boots.

And for that, I am very proud.