Category Archives: Musings

Confessions of a Compulsive: part one

Confession, Musings, , , ,

I’ve always considered myself to be flexible, a person open to new opportunities, unafraid of change.

Imagine my surprise to discover this isn’t true.

The first hint of this was when I discovered it was impossible for me to  read the LIFE section of the newspaper “out of order”,  the advice column first, then the comics on the right page before those on the left.  As soon as I recognized my problem, I tried to read the funnies on the left side first.  I felt incredibly uncomfortable.   Oh, I could have done that, but it didn’t feel right.  Why put oneself under stress when reading the comics?

The second was when I discovered I couldn’t fall asleep if I lay on the “passenger” side of the bed.

The last strike was yesterday as I wrapped a package to mail.  I used one of those envelopes that has a handy tab to tear open.  However, I never trust the postal service, an unfounded lack of trust I know, but I’m certain anything I send will burst open and the contents will litter  the conveyor belt, my personal life spewed out before strangers  in an unknown city.  For that reason, I use several feet—sometimes yards–of tape to make sure that won’t happen.  Sadly, it makes the package difficult for the recipient to open.  This time, I even taped over that handy little tab.s

Don’t even get me started on my problem with sliced bread.

For all these reasons, I have to admit, I’m not adaptable in certain situations, more of them than I  like to confess.

What about you?  Do you have certain ways you have to do things?  Won’t you share them with us?  Does this bother you or those you live with?  Can you laugh at yourself about these?

If you confess, it will make me feel much better.

(This blog was originally written for the Avaloners blog, a site for those who wrote for Avalon.  Now that Avalon is now part of amazon.com, this is an homage to my Avalon books and friends)

Longjohns and the South

Musings

I grew up in Kansas City, Missouri, a city I really loved in spite of the weather.    We had long, cold winters and long, hot summers:  the worst of both.  I always hoped to live in a place that had either hard winters and nice  summers or easy winters with long, hot summers.  Either, or! But not both!

George and I moved to Savannah, GA, in 1987, and immediately  decided the this was the promised land.  Kids wore shorts on Christmas Day.  We vowed never to live any further north.  For twenty-five years, we haven’t.

But Southerners have no idea what a bad weather really is.  They don’t dress for a cool snap, still wearing a wind breaker when the temperature falls to twenty and complain about how cold it is.  Shiver, shiver, shiver.

One October day in Houston,  I looked out at my class of high school students in Spanish 2.  One student caught my eye because his cheeks were flushed, sweat  dripped down his face, and his hair was wet with perspiration.  He looked miserable.  Finally he stood and wobbled down the aisle.  “Are you sick,” I asked.

“No, I have long underwear on,” he whispered.

What?  It is never cold enough in Houston to wear long underwear.  Even when the temperature is  30 in the morning, it will be in the fifties by noon.  Of course the kid was stifling.  Of course I allowed him to leave the room and take off the long johns, but I told him never again.    

Do you have a funny story of how people handle weather either in the North or South—or East or West?   Please share it.

With deepest appreciation

Holidays, Musings, , , ,

My father fought in World War II.  Although he was nearly 40 when Pearl Harbor was bombed, married with three young children, and attempting to see up him medical practice, he signed up immediately.    He landed at Normandy and served in general hospitals around the Battle of the Bulge. 

When we went to Europe many years later, we drove to the beaches.  The pill boxes that spit death at those brave soldier coming across the beaches were still there, covered in sand.   I still can’t believe anyone survived that.   We then went to a military cemetery with rows of crosses and stars of David, hundreds–perhaps thousands–of graves far away from, home for those who fought.

You are not forgotten.  Whether you served back then or are serving now, thank you.  You are my heroes.

The afternoon Dick Clark called me

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Do you remember cliques from your high school days?   At Southwest High School in Kansas City, MO, where I grew up, the two main groups were the popular kids–athletes and cheerleaders and the cool kids–and the smart group.  I was part of the latter.  I was president of my literary society and feature editor of the school newspaper.  Sweet and nerdy.  

This is why when the faculty sponsor of the school newspaper asked me and my friend Betty to interview Dick Clark, I didn’t even know who he was.    I’d heard of American Bandstand but didn’t watch it.  For one thing, I didn’t find watching others dance very entertaining.  For another, I didn’t dance well at all.   Today I realize that’s because of my dyslexia–but I blame everything on my dyslexia.

Undaunted by a total lack of who the man was and what to ask him, Betty and I trotted off to a studio in uptown Kansas City.  Oh, Mr. Clark wasn’t going to be there in person.  They had an office set up with about twenty phone lines and two students from each high school in the area got to talk on a sort of party line.  Way back then, conferences calls hadn’t been invented.    The interview lasted about fifteen minutes.  I didn’t ask a single question nor did Betty.  Fortunately, the other students were far more hip than we were and had plenty of questions.  We took notes and wrote a nice story about the conversation that we’d listened to.

After that, I watched his dance show a few times.  I couldn’t pick up most of the dances but I did learn two.  If any dances required less talent or ability  than The Stroll or The Bristol Stomp, I don’t know what they could be, but I really grooved to those two.  

As I got older, I saw clips of the artists Clark introduced on American Bandstand.  The list is amazing, from Chubby Checker and Aretha Franklin to Jan and Dean.   Mr. Clark’s influence on American music is amazing and wide.  And, for fifteen minutes that afternoon, I was a tiny part of Americana.  

What do you remember from your youth?   Have you met a celebrity?  What groups do you remember from Bandstand?  Can you name the three rock icons–groups or solos–that didn’t appear?   

Help! Help! I’ve lost my nouns!

Musings, , , , ,

Help!  Help!  I’ve lost my nouns.

Writers work with words. That’s expected of us.   

However, at times, I forget a word.  Usually that word is a noun.  Oh, most of us have done that, but the older you get, the harder it is to come up with the right word.  Talking to my sister-in-law often turns into a fill-in-the-blanks quiz.  Thingy is probably the most important  word in Diane’s vocabulary.  She couldn’t complete a sentence without it.

My husband and I like a little variety.  We also use dealy and what’s-it as well as doodad, doohickey and gizmo.  This means we use sentences like, “Would you give me the dealy?” or “I’m going to put the thingy in the whatchamacallit.”

In case you have the same problem, here are some tips for communication without using nouns. 

One tip I don’t include:  point   It’s not a suggestion because  this gesture can be misconstrued so badly.  When I point, George always hands me the wrong thing.  I’m still trying to decide if he does this on purpose or because he truly can’t see which thingamabob I want.  I’m pretty sure it’s to bother me.  After all, we’ve been married a really long time.

Okay, so here are some tips.

1)  If you can’t think of the word, describe.  For example, “Hand me that big blue thing with the spots.”

2)  Trail off, as if you meant to be mysterious.   “I need the. . . ”  Add a wave or a wink for authenticity.

3)   Use in context.  For example, if I’m sitting in front of the television holding two remotes and say,  “Would you put the dealy in?”  my husband usually understands I’m ready to watch a DVD

4)   Gestures can say a lot.     Although he pretends not to—yes, we’ve been married a long time–my husband knows I mean “fast forward” when I position my hand as if I’m holding the remote and pretend I’m clicking with my thumb.

4)  Wait and hope someone else fills in the word for you.  The problem with this is that the other person may fill in the blank with the wrong noun.  Here’s an example from a conversation between George and me.

George:          I need . . . [He waves toward the table.]

Me:                 [Looking around]  A napkin?

George:          No, no.  I need the black thing.

Me:                 The phone?

George:          No, the water . . .

Me:                 A glass of water?  A black glass of water?  [I have no idea what this means]

George:          No, furry.

Me:                 A furry black glass of water?  [Still confused]

George:          No, the cat.  The cat’s on the table.

This, of course, takes a lot longer than if George had just gone to the table and sprayed the black cat using the water-sprayer thingus.     

My greatest fear is that I will lose every one of my nouns.  Right now, I’m fairly confident with cat, husband, computer and keyboard and most people understand “Place where I sleep” and “Cold thing in the kitchen.” 

Actually, what I fear most is losing my verbs.  Then I could no longer form a . . . a . . .  you know, that thing with a noun and a verb and maybe another noun and those describing words.

 

Confession: I am not a patient person

Musings

I am not a patient person.    My husband would tell you that is an understatement.

My litle sister once said, “I hate to wait in line.”

I said, “Everyone hates to wait in line.”

She responded, “No one hates to stand in line as much as I do.”

So I guess our impatience is genetic.

Put me in a traffic jam and I’m ready to leap out of the car, find out the problem, and start directing traffic.  My husband would also tell you I’m fairly bossy, too.

I’ve gone around several blocks, even gotten lost once for half-an-hour, because I don’t want to sit at a stop light.

As well as this trait being genetic, it also probably comes from driving with my father.     Both nature and nurture.  He was a very busy medical doctor who made house calls up through the 1960’s.  Because he wasn’t home a lot, I’d go with him when he made calls. Neither was he a patient man.   My father never saw a line of traffic he couldn’t get around.  From him, I learned to pull into a right turn only lane and pull ahead of traffic with a jack-rabbit start.   I stopped doing that when I passed a friend on the right and he mentioned this was illegal.  I may be impatient but I am not a lawbreaker.

What stretches your patience?  Do you consider yourself a fairly patient person or not?

 

 

 

Brenda Novak’s Auction

Happening Now, , ,

Because Brenda Novak’s son has diabetes, about ten years ago, she started an auction to raise money for diabetes research.   I’ve donated either a basket or books or a critique for most of those years.  

I’m diabetic as well, but type 2.  There are differences between the causes of each although it’s the spiking blood sugar that is a symptom of both types.   I’m fully aware that research into the cure for type 1–what used to be called juvenile diabetes–may not help us older folks at all.

But I do know there is no cure.  Insulin brings blood sugar down but insulin also causes weight gain which starts a cycle of weight gain, higher doses of insulin, weight gain, etc.   And complications arise:  damage to eyes, kidneys, heart, etc.  In fact. a person with diabetes is treated as if he or she has already had one heart attack.  

This year, I’m donating a basket with items from Butternut Creek and signed copies of the first two books in the series.   Hard to see all the goodies in this picture, but go to the site and there’s a listing.  If you don’t bid on my basket, keep browsing.  There’s a lot of good stuff.  You’ll find something!

http://brendanovak.auctionanything.com/Bidding.taf?_function=detail&Auction_uid1=2446091

Ollie’s Ninety-fourth Birthday

Musings, , ,

Book Reporter–a great site for finding books to read–asked me to submit a blog for Mother’s Day.   I immediately thought of my mother-in-law Ollie Perrine, the mother I inherited by marrying George.    Here’s the link to that blog  http://www.bookreporter.com/blog/2012/04/26/her-name-was-ollie-memories-of-my-mother-in-law

George just sent me pictures of Ollie on her 94th birthday at church, a celebration lovingly set up  by her prayer group.  

 I’m blessed to be a Perrine.

Is the cat comfortable?

A question, Musings,

I have to disagree with the old saying, “There are no stupid questions.”   There are some things that are so obvious that they should be understood, no explanation necessary   For example, the answer to this question seems fairly obvious:  Is the cat comfortable?

Here are a couple more.

I was watching a basketball game a few weeks ago.  One of the teams struggled through several minutes during which none of the players could hit free throws and were ten points behind.   One of the announcers said, “If the Cardinals want to win this game, they should make their free throws.”

What?  Didn’t the players know they should make them?  Had the coach never told them the importance of hitting free throws or had he said, “Hey, free throws aren’t a big thing.  Toss the ball up and get back to scoring real baskets.”

One of our favorite shows is Top Shot.  The contestants compete using a huge variety of weapons.  On one of the challenges, a shooter was tied to a large wheel, like a Ferris wheel.  As the wheel turned, the shooter had to attempt to hit targets.  In another, the shooters rode in the shotgun side of a stage coach and tried to  hit exploding barrels.   Before the show, there is a disclaimer:  “Top Gun challenges are extremely dangerous.  Contestants are experienced marksmen operating on a closed course.  Do not attempt this at home.”   Doggone!  I’d just found a stagecoach and looked forward to setting this stunt up in the parking lot. 

What are some of the “duh” questions you’ve heard—or asked?

Where was I?

Musings, Writing, ,

I haven’t been around much recently.  Because my first book in the Tales of Butternut Creek came out April 3, I’ve spent a lot of time on promo.  Friends were lovely enough to invite me to their blogs to promote the book.  The publicist at FaithWords set up a blog tours for me and I’ve been tweeting and facebooking.

One of my firsts blogs was about my fear of using social media.  During the last few weeks, I’ve learned a lot and am much braver about using it. 

TWITTER;  Can be fun.  Can also be a waste of time.   While I’m working on a particularly difficult scene or I have a bunch of line edits to do, my brain says, “Hey, let’s run over to Twitter and see if anyone retweeted you,”  Takes great discipline not to take a break.  PROS:  Twitter is a great way to do promo;   I’ve meet interesting people; people post articles I enjoy; it’s a good break when the brain is overloaded.  CONS:  Because lots of other people use Twitter for promo, many tweets are boring and the sheer numbers is overwhelming.  No one can read them all because they just keep coming.   The worst part is that there are a great number of retweets.  At one time, a man I’m following retweeted SEVENTY messages in a row–I counted.     Fortunately, there is a button that blocks retweets from individuals and I used it!  LESSON:  Write content people will  enjoy instead of constant self promotion.

FACEBOOK: Can also be fun.  I’ve found this to be less overwhelming than Twitter.  I love keeping up with friends and seeing photos,  but it can take up a great deal of time.  LESSON:  Don’t save every cute animal picture that’s posted.

BLOGGING:   There are many wonderful blogs out there.  The publicist had me blog at  http://dimplesandtangles.blogspot.com/ and http://www.delightingintoday.com/   Both were gorgeous and had links to other sites I didn’t know existed.

I survived.  I’m back home, a grizzled veteran of social media.    I’d love to know how you feel about Twitter, Facebook, and blogs.  Do you have any blogs you’d recommend?