excerpt from an email

He asked: What is the most important thing in your life? What drives you, or what is your motivation?

I replied:

The most important thing for me is probably communion. And by that I don't mean what goes on in church buildings on Sundays. ;o) I'm talking about communion: sharing my thoughts with someone--the other person sharing their thoughts with me--in a way that is transparent, vulnerable, honest, gritty. It's inextricably interwoven with genuine emotion, empathy, understanding. The kind of meeting-of-the-minds-and-hearts that happens after you've been talking for hours and hours and it's four o'clock in the morning, you're so tired you're delirious and yet each of your senses is sharpened, hyper-aware, perfectly attuned to the other person's wavelength. Four in the morning is the ideal time, but communion can happen anytime, anyplace, as long as both people are laying things out The Way They Really Are. You get to the point where fewer and fewer words are necessary...until just looking each other in the eye suffices for communicating a universe, a googolplex of thoughts.

This can happen with other humans. This can also happen with God.

As for my motivation.....I guess it's to become the kind of human capable of that level of communion--sustained.

If I could reach this goal....everything else would fall into place.

this one's for all you book-lovers out there...

Hi friends. Read this: literary agent Nathan Bransford on Kindle, Orwell, and Amazon's Trying To Take Over The World.

For my writer friends: Nathan Bransford is a Most Extraordinary Blogger Who Will Teach You All You Need To Know About Agents, Query Letters, The Publishing Industry, And Why You Should Hate The Lakers.

Also, I got to meet him in April, and he's nice.


Also, I still need to trim my fingernails.

status update

My neck still hurts. It felt better yesterday (after Refinnej worked on it on Tuesday--thank you again!!!), but the betterness has not progressed into today. Alas, alack. I feel discouraged. And irritated with vertebrae. Why do I need those, again?

Also, I need to trim my fingernails. They're interfering with typing.

That's all.


Oh, and I have neat writer friends. :o)

amen, amen and amen again.

Air and light and time and space

by Charles Bukowski

“-you know, I’ve either had a family, a job, something
has always been in the
way
but now
I’ve sold my house, I’ve found this
place, a large studio, you should see the space and
the light.
For the first time in my life I’m going to have a place and the time to
create.”

no baby, if you’re going to create
you’re going to create whether you work
16 hours a day in a coal mine
or
you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
while you’re on
welfare,
you’re going to create with part of your mind and your
body blown
away,
you’re going to create blind
crippled
demented,
you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
back while
the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
flood and fire.

baby, air and light and time and space
have nothing to do with it
and don’t create anything
except maybe a longer life to find
new excuses
for.

hey programmers, two technical questions for ya

Edit: Ladies and gentlemen, we have a toolbar. I repeat, we have a toolbar. Thanks, Aaron!!!
14:44pm

1. How do I get the Blogger toolbar back? (Toolbar has search function and "next blog" option, etc.) I used to have it, but when I changed blog templates, it disappeared. If you'll tell me where to find the toolbar code and where it goes in the template code, I can probably fix it myself. If I can't, I'll ask. :o)

2. What would need to be done to set up a reply-to-comments function on Blogger?


Thanks! I give you all virtual chocolate.

to whom it may concern...

...I did manage to dissolve whatever was blocking my writing. Yesterday morning, I moved my laptop from my desk in the office to the kitchen table...

...and BAM!

More than 3000 words in two days. On a brand-spanking-new story*. Yes, it's the rough first draft...but it's not drivel.

This swings my verge, Gentle Readers. It really, really does.



*Working title: "Deren's Story." Now, ain't that all sortsa hunky-dory creative? ;oD

for my fellow fantasy enthusiasts**

What do you expect from outlaws in your fantasy reads?

What's your favorite thing about outlaws?

What's your least favorite thing?

What do you consider cliche* about them?

Maybe you consider outlaws-in-fantasy to be cliche altogether, I don't know. ;o)

Whatever, just let me know what you think!



*Please forgive the lack of correctly accented 'e's.

**Addendum: Although I am interested in feedback from all of you, my faithful readers ;o) and though I do appreciate my fellow ladies' opinions, I am particularly interested in hearing about these things from the guys' perspective. So, gentlemen, speak up, please! I need to hear how you view this aspect of the fantasy world! :o)

two items of ridiculousness

1. Cellulite.
There is absolutely no logical reason why my thighs are not as muscular as my calves. Not that my calves are entirely free of fat, but they're doing a lot better than what's above them. There is no logical reason for this. Cellulite is a cosmic joke on women. Gah.

2. Journalists who don't know what subject-verb agreement are.
Error intentional. 'Nuff said.


P.S. I have had a severe case of writer's block over the last ten days. This does not swing my verge in the least. I'm going to do something about it today. When I figure out what that something is, I'll let you know. ;o)

thinking more cultural thoughts....and others

Last week, we got to hang out with various old friends who were visiting Oklahoma for various reasons. Two of these friends were Randy and Bri, who work with the church in Dresden and were here on furlough. I think being around them is probably part of the reason I've had Germany specifics on the brain for the last few days.

Anyway, one of the specifics this morning is Joe, our Iraqi friend from the Turkish place in downtown Chemnitz. And what I'm thinking is that I'm sad we never got to have him and his wife over for dinner. I would have loved to find out more about his culture than what he was able to communicate to us over the busy lunch counter at Kervansaray. I wish we could have learned more about each other's cultures and discovered more common ground. I wish I could ask him how he feels about Americans now and whether or not he still likes us. I wonder if he has been able to go home to visit Kirkuk. I wonder if his daughter knows her grandmother yet. I wonder if his mother and sister are still alive.

How do you brighten the corner where you are--in the midst of a war? Forget all the political claptrap, forget the justifications and reasons and excuses on both sides. The definition of war is humans killing each other. The definition of war is humans snuffing out lights instead of making them shine brighter. The definition of war is humans destroying opportunities for sympathy, compassion, and mutual understanding.

If the goal of human existence is to cross the bridge which spans the breach between humanity and God--and I believe this is the goal--then those who have seen the bridge need to be able to tell others about it.
We cannot tell others about the bridge unless we first learn a way to communicate with them.
Humans cannot communicate with one another unless they find common reference points.
This means sharing thoughts, feelings, experiences, cultures, personal background, collective history, language, habits, traditions, taboos, hopes, fears, dreams.
We all have a responsibility to share these things with each other. Not because we're American or German or Iraqi or French or British or Finnish or Chinese or Venezuelan or whatever. But because we're all human.

I wish Ed and I could have exchanged all of that with Joe. He gave us a small taste of his culture--both literally and figuratively! ;o) --and we gave him a small taste of ours. It wasn't nearly enough. But in our brief conversations across the lunch counter at Kervansaray, Joe brightened his corner of my world. I hope I succeeded in doing the same for him.

As always, I don't have the answers to any of these dilemmas. I don't even have a personal answer to the question of whether war is fundamentally right or wrong. I'm just thinking out loud and letting the world overhear.

i've probably shared this before...

...but if I did, I'm gonna do it again. Take that, you Evil Imps of Repetitive Redundancy!

Living in the modern age,
death for virtue is the wage.
So it seems in darker hours.
Evil wins, kindness cowers.

Ruled by violence and vice
We all stand upon thin ice.
Are we brave or are we mice,
here upon such thin, thin ice?

Dare we linger, dare we skate?
Dare we laugh or celebrate,
knowing we may strain the ice?
Preserve the ice at any price?

--Dean Koontz
in "Dragon Tears"

mafias gnawn thru...

...or: fun with anagrams.

Today, I wrote a poem for which I required anagrams, so I spent several hours playing around with this online anagram generator. From said generator, I derived a grey jot--I mean, great joy. I thought you all might receive a similar jaunty of moo amount of joy, so here are a few of the anagrams I came across today. Feel free to interpret at will!

thyroidal woof
holy woo, adrift
wily foot hoard
Hen with eatables!
I linger on mops, yet.
some wise fatheads
fatheads meowing
antisera de-fog
magenta shrews
tame hogness
tea theism (I think I am becoming a believer.)
A seventh moo howled!
I linger on my pesto.
Seesaw thongs mow. (Oh dear.)

Thus ends the fungi wash mantra. Tune in next week for another rousing round of A Ham Fig Nun Warts!

Sincerely Yours,

None Any Cuter ;o)

roll call

If you read this, leave a comment. I wanna know you're there.

I'm going to go paint my toenails now.

book comments 17 and a reading adventure story

"The Right Hand of Evil" by John Saul
--general reaction: Meh.
--story of a family in which Satanic possession is passed down through the generations like an heirloom
--lots of long, confusing dream sequence stuff
--Teenagers who talk like 40-year-olds are not believable.
--I never really connected with any of the characters. I spent most of the book wishing the mom would grow a backbone and wondering if none of these people ever watched "The Exorcist."
--some very good imagery, though, especially the cathedral scenes
--Saul fans might like it, but I don't recommend.

"The Good Guy" by Dean Koontz
--story of mistaken identity leading to a high-thrills cat-and-mouse hunt between a serial killer and two innocent bystanders
--Can you already tell I thoroughly enjoyed this one? ;o)
--vivid, compelling characters, especially the main character --> loved him!
--a serial killer so charming it hurts --> excellent
--Koontz is the master of clever dialogue.
--an UPDA* read
--highly recommend

"Maia" by Richard Adams
--fantasy epic spanning 1223 pages
--story of a girl sold into slavery as a prostitute, does oodles of heroic stuff, and lives happily ever after
--This is one of the most complex stories I have ever read.
--way too much gratuitous sex in this one --> kinda freaks me out that a 62-year-old man wrote this
--too much description --> I appreciate that Adams made both the culture and the landscape into characters, but honestly, I skimmed at least a fourth of the book, thinking, "Just get on with the plot already!"
--In my opinion, the main character falls in love with the wrong person, and her obsession with him is not believable.
--incredibly vivid characters, imagery that puts detailed pictures into the reader's mind
--You might like this if you have thick skin, a strong stomach, and the stamina for sticking with a book that's 2.5 inches long (paperback).

"Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith
--title says it all: The Bennett girls are zombie-killers, and so is Mr. Darcy.
--no complaints about this one, I loved and laughed my way through every moment of this read
--definitely UPDA*
--I love the irreverence of making a horror spoof out of a classic. SO fun.
--highly recommend

"Flight of the Raven" and "A Tapestry of Lions" by Jennifer Roberson
--books 7 and 8, respectively, of Roberson's "Shapechanger" series

I have a history with these books: For years, I have owned books 1-6 and 8 of the series. For years, I have read only books 1-6, because I refused to read 8 without reading 7. However, 7 has been out of print for for*ever* and I couldn't find a copy. Then, Roberson came out with omnibus editions of the series: four huge books containing all eight. Well, naturally I wasn't going to buy those simply in order to read one story, when I already owned seven of the individual novels!

Are you following me so far? ;o)

A couple of weeks ago, I visited a used bookstore with Celia. Out of curiosity and without intending to purchase anything, I was browsing through the fantasy section, when there! right before my eyes! there is a copy of book 7!!! Of course, I couldn't leave it there, and of course I bought it, and of course I started reading it immediately, and of course I fell in love with the story from the beginning, and of course I was enjoying it with every shred of my being, when...

...I got to page 116--and the next page was 85.

Guh?

I checked again. Pages 1-116. Then pages 85-116 again, followed by pages 149-372.

Yeah, that's right. The pages in my copy of "Flight of the Raven" number 1-116, 85-116, and 149-372. This copy, WHICH I HAVE BEEN WAITING TEN YEARS TO GET MY HANDS ON, is missing the chunk of story spanning pages 117-148.

Which means my brain is still missing thirty-one pages of the "Shapechanger" series. So close...and yet, so far.

*sigh*

Dismay and chagrin do not quite cover it.

But moving right along. "Flight of the Raven" is still an amazing UPDA* novel, with a main character who just breaks your heart. And after I finished that one, I finally got to read "A Tapestry of Lions"--also quite UPDA and also with a main character a reader can fall in love with, not to mention one of the best, most spectacular endings I have ever read in a fantasy series.

Aside from the minor irritation of 31 missing pages, I am well satisfied. And I will read the series again...

...and continue the search for a complete, individual copy of book 7. Never give up, never surrender! ;o)


2009 Book Count To-Date: 27.



*UPDA = UnPutDownAble

"writing time" --hahahahahahaha!

If you are a writer,

or if you are in any sort of relationship with a writer,

I encourage you to read this article.

Among other things, it outs us writers for the narcissistic, airheaded time-wasters we really are.

And I love it.

J.R. Lennon, the author of said article, gives a run-down of how he typically spends his writing time. I thought some of you might be interested in seeing how I typically spend mine:


8:00-8:30 Get up. Lately, this has taken place 1-2 hours later than noted here, but who's counting.

8:30-9:00 Check online stuff. Messages, email, Facebook, Bloglines, what-hast-thou. Sometimes, this takes 45 minutes, but who's counting.

9:00-10:15ish Prepare and eat breakfast while reading something not on the computer.

10:30ish Sit down at computer to start writing.

11:00 Force self to stop editing the results of previous day's writing. Start writing for real.

11:03 Go to bathroom. Get cleaned up for the day.

11:30 Pet cat. Get something to drink. Wonder why that line of dialogue reads janky.

11:31-11:36 Really get down to writing.

11:37 Check Facebook.

11:38-12:00 Reply to comments. Look up something on Wikipedia. Read and ponder what Angie wants to know in her status update. Possibly post reply.

12:01-12:26 Typing, leaning back in chair, backspacing, typing some more, turning around to fix back of chair, typing some more, reading aloud, deleting everything written today.

12:27 Wander into kitchen to check fridge for anything. Anything at all. Ponder whether or not Character X should just die and get out of the way.

12:30 Return to office with drink and stand there, staring at computer screen. Computer screen stares malevolently back.

12:31 Coo over cat and re-write scene in head.

12:35-12:55 Re-type scene with improvements, taking previous day's writing into account.

12:56-1:05 Find favorite funny scene and read aloud, giggling.

1:06-1:30 Check online stuff.

1:31-2:30 Prepare and eat lunch while reading something not on computer. Go to bathroom.

2:31-2:40 Check Facebook. Reply to comments. Ruminate on the benefits of moving on to a different scene and leaving current one alone until the Apocalypse.

2:41-3:00 Re-read everything written today. Write one line of dialogue and delete it. Copy and paste dialogue from Chapter 11 into Chapter 6.

3:01-3:45 Fix glaring plot hole in Chapter 6.

3:46-4:10 Check Facebook. Resist temptation to scrap everything written today.

4:11-4:30 Speed-type. Pass "Go," collect 200 metaphorical dollars.

4:30-6:00 Housework, optional cooking, errands, bills, other such.

6:01 Return to office

6:02-6:21 Speed-write amazing plot twist that popped into existence and hope the sudden mania is sated before Ed walks in the door.


Voy-oh-lay. The truth comes out. Take it from me, folks, ya gotta see it to believe it.

Have I mentioned that writing really swings my verge? Oh yeah. ;oD

the one where i pass the point of no return

I am desperate.
I am tired.
I am hungry.

And I am not talking about my physical condition.

The last few years have wrought a great many changes in my spirit. The last 14 months in particular have stripped my soul of a great many impediments that had been mucking up my vision for a long, long time. Over the last few days, I've had several heart-wrenching, intimate conversations that have led me to *want* to say the things I am about to say.

I won't say that "I can see clearly now." ;o)
But I will say that I have reached a point of clarity enabling me to say, "I don't know."

I don't know who or what God really is.
I don't know exactly how he goes about saving humans from being eternally separated from him.
I don't know what the afterlife is going to be like.
I don't know why good things happen.
I don't know why bad things happen.
I don't know any human who can set a satisfactory standard of "good" or "bad."
I don't know what the nature of the universe is.
Humans are primarily spiritual beings, but I don't know exactly what that means.
I don't know a great many things.

I can speculate about all these things. My speculations might even be tinged with hints of truth. But they remain speculations because, frankly my dear, my human brain is too puny to fathom the spiritual reality behind it all.


Here's what I do know. These things, I am sure of without a doubt:

God is.
God created humans, and he loves us.
Humans are primarily spiritual beings.
God hears each of us when we speak to him.
Jesus of Nazareth had a more personal, intimate, vulnerable, honest, transforming relationship with God than any other being that has ever existed.
Jesus was a safe place for people to be.
Jesus wanted/wants his followers to be safe places for each other and for every person they come into contact with.
If you look at Jesus, you will gain an idea of what God is like.
Religion means nothing. Relationships mean everything.
I want to become as safe a place for others as I can.

That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it. ;o)
That's my statement of faith.
That's my creed.

i do dumb things sometimes

This time, I tried to light a match. Which, under ordinary circumstances, would not be a dumb thing to do. But I had just smeared lotion all over my hands, making my fingers too slick to get a good grasp on the match. So, instead of doing the smart thing and wiping the lotion off, I...

...tore the match out of the matchbook with my teeth,
clamped the head of the match between the front and back flaps of the matchbook,
and pulled really hard.

It did not occur to me that this would result in my holding a burning match in my teeth, with the flame about half an inch from my face.

I was startled enough to let go of the match, which obeyed the law of gravity by dropping to the floor. Some other natural law--having to do with combustion and chemistry, I suppose--also went into effect, keeping the match burning as it fell. Fortunately, I regained my presence of mind quickly enough to stamp out the flame before it could catch the carpet on fire.

So, dear children, the moral of the story is: obvious.

There's now a little stinging spot on my lip--not a burn from the flame itself, but from the spark as the match lit.

*sigh*

in case you were wondering...

...I love being the person who handles the words. You need someone to take point in the challenge of traversing the jungles of syntax, vocabulary, and literary flair? I'll step up, and with my tools at the ready: bamboo knife for slashing through ambiguous verbosity--or a scimitar for beheading every Inner Editor that dares step onto the path too soon--or delicate clippers for trimming. Whatever's needed for getting from Writing Base Camp to Noveling Summit, I'll shoulder the pack and take the lead with a warcry of, "Onward! Hail Tawanda, Queen of the Amazons!"

Yup, I'm yer huckleberry. ;oD

people ask me where i get my ideas...

...and for me it works like this, and Sting says it better than I can:

"...The germ of the thing, and you work backwards from that. The procedure is very conscious, and very thought out but the actual lines that appear are really unconscious. I've got the germs of a few songs when I was half asleep. Just waking up...immediately have to rush to that piece of paper and write it down. I've read a lot about it. I've read a book called "The Act of Creation" by Arthur Koestler in which he scientifically analyses the moment of creative thought, where, according to him, the brain has different compartments and everything is well ordered, but in kind of semiconscious states those compartments sort of dissolve and ideas that should be in one place kind of seep into another and then you get a creative spark and something happens. And I would go along with that. I think that in a dreamlike state, you get ideas, but the actual hard work is a conscious thing. Once you get that idea you then, with a lot of discipline, piece it together."

--Sting
Hot Press, 8/80
__________________________________

Most of my stories have started as dreams.

seven characteristics of a loving person

I don't know where this list originated, but Rob shared it in our group discussion last night:

Seven Characteristics of a Loving Person

kind

patient

forgiving

humble

courteous

generous

honest


I have my own thoughts about these, but I'm curious to hear yours.
Do you agree with this list?
Would you add to it?
Subtract from it?
What is the value in defining a "loving person" in this way?
*Is* there value in such defining?
What is the value in striving to be a loving person?
Do you feel that you should try to be this kind of person? Why or why not?
If you are trying to be this sort of person, how would you evaluate your...hmm...success?
If you don't feel the need to be this sort of person, what goal have you set yourself instead? How would you evaluate your "success" in reaching your goal?

The floor is yours. :o)

book comments 16

Just a reminder: If you'd like to check out all of my book comments, scroll down till you see a long list of tags in the bar on the right and click the "book comments" tag--and voy-oh-lay, ya gotta lotta books to check out. Yippee.

Without further ado, the latest:

"Mark of the Lion III: As Sure As The Dawn" by Francine Rivers
--last book in Rivers's trilogy; I commented on the first here and the second here
--great read, vivid characters, strong writing
--sounds like a bland description, I know ;o)
I enjoyed the story, but I didn't get into it nearly as much as I did the first two.
However, I *will* say that psycho-witch-antagonist-chick *really* got to me--she was just CREEPY!
--some of the "miraculous" incidents were hard to swallow
--enjoyed the Theophilus connection
Atretes annoyed the snot out of me in Book I, and I was still irritated with him by the start of Book III. But I got over it. ;o)
--recommend (but not quite as highly as the first two books)

"Deepwood" by Jennifer Roberson
--second in Robersons's "Karavans" series (comments on first book here)
I might have enjoyed this one more than the first.
--less world-building, more time with individual characters
--However.
--too much time with pessimistic, vindictive dad (Davyn), and not nearly enough time with surly...ummm...fascinating Brodhi ;o)
--Rhuan is wholly absorbing.
--And so is Alario.
--LOVE the ending
--more, please
--recommend to fantasy fans

"Beasts" by Joyce Carol Oates
--novella, kind of neo-Gothic
--story of Gillian, student at a girls' university in the 1970s, who thinks she's "in love with" her poetry prof
--turns out poetry prof and his wife are sexual predators
--very well-crafted story, vivid imagery, strong characters
--excellent illustration of the power of those we consider our "authorities" or "mentors"....or "idols"
--excellent illustration of how the molding of young minds can go awry (and turn into psychological torture)
--recommend only to those with a penchant for literary fiction

"Cross" by James Patterson
--my first Alex Cross read (though I've seen the films with Morgan Freeman)
--fast-paced, unputdownable (UPDA ;o)
Characters were vivid and *real* from the moment they stepped onto the page.
Patterson did a frighteningly good job with his antagonist. It takes masterful skill to write a psychopath so that the reader cares about *that* character's motivations and fate....but Patterson made me care about "the Butcher." Good job, Mr. Patterson. *shudder*
--highly recommend

2009 Book Count To-Date: 21 (low, very low ;o)

great song by nickelback

They've been radio-stalking me, so I decided to share one of their songs I like. ;o)

"If Today Was Your Last Day" by Nickelback

My best friend gave me the best advice
He said each day's a gift and not a given right
Leave no stone unturned, leave your fears behind
And try to take the path less traveled by
That first step you take is the longest stride

If today was your last day
And tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
If today was your last day

Against the grain should be a way of life
What's worth the prize is always worth the fight
Every second counts 'cause there's no second try
So live like you'll never live it twice
Don't take the free ride in your own life

If today was your last day
And tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?
Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories
Would you forgive your enemies?
Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you finally fall in love
If today was your last day

If today was your last day
Would you make your mark by mending a broken heart?
You know it's never too late to shoot for the stars
Regardless of who you are
So do whatever it takes
'Cause you can't rewind a moment in this life
Let nothin' stand in your way
Cause the hands of time are never on your side

If today was your last day
And tomorrow was too late
Could you say goodbye to yesterday?

Would you live each moment like your last?
Leave old pictures in the past
Donate every dime you have?
Would you call old friends you never see?
Reminisce old memories
Would you forgive your enemies?
Would you find that one you're dreamin' of?
Swear up and down to God above
That you finally fall in love
If today was your last day

ghosts of blopgosts past

Whilst happily imbibing my coffee this morning, I herumgestöbert (there has got to be a good English word for that!) in my blog and found the following gems for your potential perusing pleasure:


Monday, November 21, 2005

When I should be writing, I'm procrastinating and finding fun things on other people's blogs, like this fun thing I found on Patricia's blog:

___________________________

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Cult Classic

Quirky, offbeat, and even a little campy - your life appeals to a select few.
But if someone's obsessed with you, look out! Your fans are downright freaky.

Your best movie matches: Office Space, Showgirls, The Big Lebowski
___________________________

Of those three movies, I've only seen "Office Space," and though it's funny, it's not one of my favorites. I guess my life is a cult classic with all the profanity bleeped out of it.

Actually, that's pretty accurate. ;o)


Tuesday, December 27, 2005

....At the end of October, Ed, Clint, April, and I were driving to Dresden (this was back B.C.S.--Before Car Selling), and we started talking about what a movie of our lives would be like.

First, we decided that nobody would go see it. Then, we decided it would be a blockbuster. (Anybody remember what title we decided on?) And finally, talk turned to which actors would portray us. We came up with the following:

Clint: Jack Black
April: Courteney Cox
Ed: Adam Sandler
Me: Drew Berrymore

What do you think???

the grocery store saga continues

"Oh, no," you think. "Not again!"

But yea verily, Gentle Reader, I have yet another grocery store incident with which to while away your time. HOWEVER.......drumroll, please..........this one is neither an angry incident nor a cultural frustration! Can I get a hallelujah on that one? Yes, yes, I believe I can. ;o)

So, here's what happened: I grabbed a can of catfood off the shelf at Wal-Mart (yes, Wal-Mart--I'm doing some comparison shopping this month). The can was busted, it leaked on my hand and my shirt, and since it apparently got busted long enough back for decomposition to set in, I drove home yesterday afternoon smelling like fish bait. ("Shark bait! Ooh-ha-ha!")

Joy o joy o joy.

And yet, in spite of the not-so-happiness of this episode, I didn't allow it to dampen my mood...mainly because of the cashier who chatted with me as she checked my groceries.

She was an odd lady. I hardly even remember what she chattered on about, but she did chatter on pretty much non-stop as she worked. I chattered back to her, and it was nice. And then, quite randomly, she said,

"I hope you don't mind my asking, but...do you have Native American heritage?"

I'm sure the look on my face was priceless. If you've met me once--or if you've taken a glance at my picture over there on the left somewhere--you've seen for yourself that I'm about as non-Native-American-looking as a white girl can get. That being the case, no stranger has ever before asked me if I have Native American heritage. For obvious reasons, it simply would never occur to anyone.

Nevertheless, as I told the cashier, I do have Cherokee blood from my paternal grandmother's side of the family. We can't prove it, and I don't even know how far back it goes. I'm not sure Grandma even knows. (Aunts and/or cousins, correct me if I'm wrong.) I think it would be neat to find out for sure--maybe through the new DNA test that people have started using over the last few years. I doubt anyone would let me take the test for free, though, and at this point I have no desire to pay for it. ;o)

Anyway, I felt amused that the cashier would ask me that question--and pleased that I could answer in the affirmative. I have no clue why she asked, but it was nifty that she did.

Tune in next time for the continuation of "Grocery Store Adventures: Taking Back the Coffee I Bought Because It's Whole Beans And We Don't Have A Grinder." ;oD

good grief, people. free your minds, wouldja?!?

This morning, I read two articles in "Newsweek" that annoyed the poo out of me.

The first concerned white supremacy beliefs in the USA. Apparently, the popularity of white supremacist groups has started going up since Obama was elected. Perfect. The article was complete with pictures of good ol' home folks with swastikas on their T-shirts. Their new party line, it seems, is "preach love of white, not hate of black, don't come on radical, be quiet and subtle, or you'll scare people off before you can get them to come around to the right way of thinking." "Right way," meaning: deportation of all immigrants and incarcerated non-whites. Ad infinitum ad nauseam.

There are a lot of names I'd like to apply to people who think this way. But instead of using those names, I'll just say this: I grew up visiting concentration camps in Germany. You wear a swastika and come within twenty feet of me, and I am deaf to you before the first word exits your white supremacist mouth.

Ugh. Utterly revolting.

The other annoyance was in an article about new apps (read: applications) for cell phones, specifically apps of the Bible. The author was presenting differing viewpoints. Apparently, there are people out there who disapprove of having the Bible on a hand-held electronic device, because having the Bible accessible this way "takes away from the sacredness of scripture." Or somesuch.

Huh? Am I understanding them right? They're saying it's a bad thing to have access to the Bible no matter where you are?

That's almost the dumbest thing I've read all day. (For the dumbest, see the second and third paragraphs of this post.) Do you really think God cares in what medium his Word appears? When you carry the Bible in book form, there is absolutely nothing sacred about the paper, ink, leather, plastic, and glue with which that book is put together. There is not one iota of holiness inherent in a printed copy of the Bible--or a audio copy, or an electronic copy, or a copy written in the sky with airplane vapor trails. The medium doesn't matter.

I would even venture to say that the words themselves don't matter. A word is merely a symbol we use to convey an idea or a set of ideas. House, Haus, and maison are different symbols that convey the same idea. Same goes for cat, Katze, and gato. Same for ichthys, Fisch, and pesce. Symbols for ideas/concepts/specific meanings.

When it comes to sacredness and holiness of the Bible, all that signifies are the concepts behind the symbols. Aletheia, Wahrheit, truth. Symbols which, in themselves, are not sacred. Heaven, Himmel, ouranos. The sacredness belongs solely to the concept, the reality, behind the symbols.

It matters not what form those symbols take. Whether printed or electronic, the symbols convey concepts that have unlimited power to work on the human heart and change it. Consuming those symbols--and, through them, the bedrock reality concepts--through an electronic medium doesn't dilute their effect in the least.

Come on, people. Have a little faith!

thoughts about the writing of stephenie meyer

I don't really have time to be sitting here today, blogging any ruminations whatsoever...but as you can see, I'm gonna do it anyway. What? Linear timeline constraints? Pshaw.

What I'm thinking about right now are the published works of Stephenie Meyer. If you don't know who Stephenie Meyer is, does the title "Twilight" tell you anything? If not, you probably won't care much about the rest of this blopgost. ;o)

I attended a Writers Conference last weekend (and I know I've been promising details--I will deliver ASAP, I promise!), and Meyer's name came up several times in various conversations. I noted two extreme reactions:

TwilightOMWilovethosebookshaveyoureadmidnightsunyet? and

... (insert cricket noises here, paired with skeptical lift of single eyebrow).

The Twilight series. It seems that if you've read the books, you either love 'em or you hate 'em. I've heard very few people speak of a lukewarm reaction. Many folks have read part of the first book and given up, not bothering to tackle the rest. Many more folks, it seems, have inhaled every Twilit word like an army of heavy-duty, industrial, bipedal vacuum cleaners.

From my above-it-all vantage point, I am amused at the bizarrity of these disparate reactions.

Okay, okay, I'll 'fess up. I'm not as above-it-all as I'd like to pretend, and I think many of you know that already. ;o) I myself went into bipedal-vacuum-cleaner mode when reading the series--both the first and the second time I read it. ;o) However--and I think I mentioned this in book comments at some point--I wasn't so enamored that I couldn't take a step back (okay, maybe just half a step) and identify some problems in Meyer's writing style. But I kept in mind that:

(a) the books are young adult fiction (YA) and therefore (possibly) not subject to quite as many rules as adult literary fiction (Caveat emptor, however: YA is no excuse for substandard writing!);
(b) Meyer is a new author; and
(c) Meyer shows growth as a writer over the course of the four books. Her sci-fi novel, "The Host," evinces that process of writerly maturing, as well.

But I guess, when it comes down to it, the final point is this: Whether people like Meyer's writings or not, whether she breaks "rules for good writing" or not, her writings are popular. The lady is making oodles of money because enough people love her books. The lady is making oodles of money because she has been smart enough to cross the line of printed media and branch out into movies, music, and powerful Internet presence (poke around her site and you'll see what I mean).

So what do you think? Does it matter that there are things to criticize about her writing? Or does the popularity of her works cancel out any stylistic or character problems? She has made a huge dent in the business--so does the quality of the books still signify?

from three different contexts of today

sorrow
health
language
laughter
met
raw
visceral
real
forbidden
charming
dark
honest
fear
written
spoken
heard
delineated
blunt
sharp
joy
pain
guilt
silent
innumerable
reaching
yearning
gentle
encouraged
encouraging
powerful
beloved
thought
seen
and cranberries.

soundings and love

Tonight, I was tickled all sorts of pink to attend the unveiling of this year's 'Soundings' at OC. For the uninitiated, 'Soundings' is a collection of poetry, prose, and art by OC students, profs, and alumni, and it comes out every spring.

Ten years ago, I was editor of Soundings. For the record, I hadn't the faintest clue what I was doing, and I loved every single mind-boggling moment of it. ;o)

Over the years, I've kept up with Soundings. I have copies of every issue since 1996, with the exception of 2007, which I plan to get my grubby hands on, oh, maybe tomorrow. Every year, my level of thrilledness over Soundings goes up, because it just gets better and better--what with the more user-friendly budget and the improvements in technology, what ho. Also, alumni get to submit pieces, as well, so I've had poems in several issues since I graduated.

When I think about the fact that I still get to be part of Soundings, I get all warm-fuzzy-fangirlish inside. In fact, I'm so pleased, I could do the potato wave right here.

Some people might think this is weird.

I don't care.

Tonight, at the unveiling of Soundings 2009, I got to stand in a room with more than 50 (closer to 100?) writers and artists. Did you read that? I got to hang out with multiple dozens of writers and artists. People who are like me. Do you comprehend how rare and flabbergastingly cool that is?

Creatives love each other by rote. It's built into us. We gravitate toward each other. We are each other's black holes--in a totally non-matter-compacting way, I mean. And in a way that doesn't happen in other areas of life. We resonate with each other. We grok, if you want to go that far. ;o)

Also, we swing each other's verge.

I am a bunny, and you guys are my Energizers. Watch me go. ;o)

now that i know...

I once thought, in an intellectual way, that I was hungry.

I ate the food laid out before me, looked around in my immediate area for more, and thought I was satisfied. I thought that my hunger was small, and I thought that what was within reach would sate me.

Then life happened.

And now I know that I am ravenous. I have always been ravenous. And what I thought was satisfying...does not even begin to fill up my empty spaces.

I now know, in a deep, internal, visceral way, that I am starving. How I hungered before is nothing compared to the hunger I feel now.

Now that I begin to know how hungry I am, I want more.

And the beginning of knowledge only makes the hunger grow.

God, give me more.

it's the little things, y'know?

After an emotionally draining Wednesday and a physically over-did-it Thursday, I am ending today on a good note:

I just read that Sting is recording a new album. This pleases me immensely.

I also read that J.D. Fortune is no longer singing with INXS. This pleases me not at all.

However, the news of a new Sting album buoys me enough to cancel out the disappointment over INXS.

Little things. Bright spots. They make me feel better, no matter their source.

Also, I like them. ;o)

gogg-gogg-goggle at this

"Officials have agreed to correct spelling errors in road signs pointing to a central Massachusetts lake with a 45-letter name. Lake Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg in Webster has one of the world's longest place names. It's been spelled many different ways over the years. Some locals have given up and simply call it Lake Webster."

Full article here. This really swings my verge. ;o)

growing up in bowel town: random memory

I know I said in my last post that I was going to blog about a certain adventure I had that is now 12 days in the past, but I haven't blogged about it yet, so now I'm going to write about something else instead. Namely, this:

I grew up in the city of Darmstadt, which literally translates into "Bowel City," which I choose to render as "Bowel Town" because it sounds funnier. My first home in Darmstadt was an apartment building at Roßdörferstraße 55 (which loosely translates to "Horse-Village Street"--I swear I am not making this up). We lived for eight years in a two-bedroom apartment on what Americans would call the third floor but Germans call the second.

The building's first floor housed a "Konditorei," which I guess would be a pastry shop or confectioner's shop to those of the English-speaking persuasion. The presence of said pastry shop resulted in the most amazing scents that drifted daily up the stairwell and into all the apartments, making everyone in the building crave Butterhörnchen a whole lot more often than fortnightly, lemme tell ya.

The baker's names was Herr Gibis, and before I started 1st grade, he took to wife a younger woman with two children. Their names were Marcus and Sylvie. Marcus was my age, and Sylvie was a year younger, and they lived with Herr and Frau Gibis in the only apartment on the first floor, behind the pastry shop.

Marcus and Sylvie and I became fast and great friends. I could tell oodles of stories of our many outside adventures, including the ones about how Marcus chased me and his sister with daddy longlegs. But that is another story and shall be told another time.

The story on my mind right now is The One Where We Got Into The Bug Spray. You see, adjacent to the back of our apartment complex and beyond a low chainlink fence brooded this squat, square, white building with a fire escape. (The fire escape figures into yet another tale, as does the chainlink fence, but again, that is neither here nor there right now.) In this squat, square, white building lived an old woman. I suppose now that she must not have been very old at all--probably between 40 and 50 years of age--but to us children (we were now 10, 10, and 9, respectively), she seemed ancient. I only ever caught a couple of glimpses of her, and my only memory of her is long, dark hair in a bun, and shoulders wrapped in a fringed shawl. But Marcus and Sylvie must have seen her more often than I did, because they said her name was Maria and she didn't like children.

It quite possible that Marcus and Sylvie were making this up.

Anyway, we were fascinated and terrified. Maria didn't like children; ergo, we
qualified as unlikeable. There was a chainlink fence--obviously, a barrier we were not meant to cross. Mystery, darkness, and danger lurked at this far end of the apartment complex. The lure of the squat, square, white building was irresistible.

I don't know where Sylvie was on that fateful day. I don't remember that she was with us when Marcus and I climbed over the chainlink fence, our hearts thudding wildly in our small chests, our eyes darting over our shoulders again and again in case A Parent should suddenly appear. But, undaunted by fear or threat of parental disapproval, Marcus and I scaled the fence (it was all of four feet high) and found ourselves on terra incognita: Maria's backyard.

Eerie light filtered down through leaves overhead. An unnatural hush descended, as though even the birds were shocked into silence by our audacity. We were shocked into silence by our audacity. The air felt heavy.

The shed beckoned.

It was squat, square, and wooden, with a tin roof and all sorts of gardening implements leaning against its rickety frame. My memories progress as though I'm flipping through photographs, and the next picture shows Marcus and me, not entering the shed, but inside the shed, and Marcus is holding a sort of pressurized pump can, and we're deep in the fantasy of marauders surrounding us, barring our escape, shouting for us to give up and come out, there's nowhere left to run, and Marcus and I are looking at each other with huge, excited eyes, and we know that this moment is The Grandest Adventure EVER.

Meanwhile, the marauders were advancing. They were at the door. They were breaking in. We defended ourselves with the only weapons available: magic sleep-dust spray guns--what else?

Of course, when we got back to our side of the backyard universe (not having had the guts to approach the squat, square, white building proper, defeated marauders notwithstanding), the fantasy quickly broke into smithereens when The Parents smelled not magic sleep-dust on our clothes but insecticide, with which we had sprayed not only the imaginary marauders, but also each other, and generously. Because, as anyone with half a brain can tell you, magic sleep-dust magically turns into a restorative and palliative powder when used on a friend instead of against a slavering, primitive marauder.

I don't remember what happened to Marcus, but I got a spanking and an afternoon in the bathtub, being scrubbed down with great vigor by my mother, who was not impressed.

That was our first adventure centered around Maria's squat, square, white house...but it was not to be our last.

third draft of novel finished

Title is self-explanatory. ;o) Here are some Third Draft Stats for your perusing pleasure:

Number of Chapters: 35

Pages: 736

Word Count: ca. 220000 (Yeah, you're seeing it right: 220k. Uffda.)

Words per Chapter: ca. 6286

Pages per Chapter: ca. 21

Deaths of Named Characters: 8

Romantic Liaisons: 5

Weddings: 1

Wars: 1

Skirmishes: 6

Magical Mishaps: 5

Magical Creature Moments: 7

Possessions by Unknown Forces: 9

Major Epiphanies: 4

Characters' Breaks with Reality: 9

Writer's Breaks with Reality: continual

Writer's Cups of Coffee: 53.5

Writer's Staring Moments: 17.3

Writer's Why-Am-I-Doing-This Moments: 3.7

Seriously, though...I am feeling excited/relieved/frustrated about completing the third draft. Excited/relieved, because this means I'm one step closer to having the book ready for an agent. Frustrated, because I still have a lot of steps to go.

About 75000 steps, to be inexact.

That word count has got to come down, and frankly, I'm not sure how I'm going to do it.

I didn't set out to write an epic. But the book fits the definition, and I'm not sure how that happened.

Okay, I lie. I know exactly how it happened. I kept putting words after other words, adding commas, dashes, and quotation marks, and voy-o-lay: I got me an epic fantasy novel.

My task now is to un-epicize the monster.

Why, you ask, is this necessary? Well, the equation is simple: BigBook + NewWriter = HighCostAndNoGuaranteeOfRecoup. Epics are expensive to publish, and if a publisher is gonna publish an epic, then said publisher wants to be sure that said epic is going to bring in enough money. And no one can guarantee that a new author is going to generate that kind of revenue.

So I'm playing with a few options right now:

I can do a bit more polishing but leave the book mostly as-is, try submitting it, and see what happens (which, more than likely, will be a whole lotta nothin').

I can go back to cutting and slicing--but I must do so with care, or I risk cutting and slicing stuff that the reader *needs* in order for the story to make sense.

Or...I can do some more polishing and then try to split the book in half. I.e. pitch the book as a two-parter and see if anyone is interested.

This third idea just occurred to me today, so I have done no market research on it whatsoever. I'm a bit leery of the idea, because (a) it's very different from anything I've ever imagined concerning this book and the universe it's set in, and (b) it almost feels like the lazy way out of not having to cut and slice as radically as I know I need to.

Since (b) has occurred to me, I'm wondering if it might not be the truth.

I'm gonna let this sit for a few days. Tomorrow, I'll be blogging about my writing-related adventure of last week, so stay tuned, if you will. Or even if you won't--I'm gonna do it anyway. ;o)

book comments 15

"Dance of Death" by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
--murder, mystery, intrigue, an FBI agent and his sociopathic brother...*lots* of potential here
--BUT.
--I don't need to know the five-page details of how an archaeological Mayan museum exhibit is put together. *yawn*
--lots of "They did this, and then they felt that, and we have to tell you, the reader, directly, because you, the reader, apparently aren't smart enough to figure it out yourself."
--excellent character development of a few characters, terrible under-development of others
I was really geared up to enjoy this story, but the authors lost me in over-explanation and high-societal ramblings.
--don't recommend

"The Dark Tower, and Other Stories" by C.S. Lewis
a collection of Lewis's short fiction
--published posthumously
--totally fascinating
--includes two stories that are incomplete, because Lewis died before finishing them
One of these, "The Dark Tower," relates to Robert Barrett Browning's epic poem "Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came"--as does Stephen King's "Dark Tower" series. I am thrilled and intrigued with the connections, here.
The other incomplete story picks up the story of Menelaus and Helen after the Trojan War. Brilliant.
--amazing writing, of course--it's Lewis
--highly recommend

"The Left Hand of Darkness" by Ursula K. LeGuin
--basically a first-contact story between the established, intergalactic (?) human society and a less advanced human society on a new planet
--explores oodles of themes: racism, prejudice, sexuality, government, utopianism, light-speed travel and its effects...
--classic sci-fi
I had to read several chapters before I could get into the story, and I almost put it down before the pace picked up a little. It just took too long to get to the central conflict. But I'm glad I stuck with it--it turned out to be a great adventure story with plenty of significant, make-you-think moments.
--one of LeGuin's earlier works, and it's interesting to compare this style to some of her later stuff (i.e. "The Lathe of Heaven")
--recommend, but only to die-hard sci-fi fans

"Variable Star" by Spider Robinson and Robert Heinlein
--story of a broken-hearted young man who spontaneously decides to get on a colony ship that won't reach its destination for 20 years (80 years on Earth)
This one is particularly fascinating to Heinlein and/or Robinson fans, because Robinson wrote it after Heinlein died, based on detailed notes that Heinlein took in the 1950s.
--great plot, great characters, typical Heinlein brilliance coupled with Robinson's rollicking style and knack for punniness
--highly recommend to sci-fi fans

"Duma Key" by Stephen King
Okay,before I say anything about this book, I'd like to mention this: I swore off King's novels several years ago--and part of the reason I did this is that he is such a brilliant writer. Whatever you think of him morally or genre-ly, he is a master of the craft--I would venture to say one of the top five masters of our time. I stopped reading his books because they were *too good*--too good at putting mental pictures in my head that I did not want in my head. (FYI, "Dreamcatcher" was the last straw for me, but that is another story and shall be told another time.)

Two stories got me started on King again: his "Dark Tower" series and "Lisey's Story." I read "The Dark Tower" for more reasons than I want to get into now. I read "Lisey's Story" because it's about a woman whose deceased husband is a writer--and everything in the novel relates to his being a writer. For obvious reasons, that appeals to me. A master of writing, writing about a writer and where story ideas really come from--"the pool where we all go down to drink." There's a lot in "Lisey's Story" about a collective source for creativity and how we can all tap into it--and as a writer and artist--and as a Christian--I have a very strong belief in that concept.

Anyway, the point is this: Like "Lisey's Story" and "Dark Tower," "Duma Key" has brought me back to reading King...because "Duma Key" is about an artist.

"Duma Key" by Stephen King
--story of a guy who loses an arm and, in recovery, discovers a great talent for drawing and painting
--themes of loss, redemption, the power of imagination, memory, the persistence of evil, the possibility of overcoming evil if we are courageous, sacrifice, using our powers for good...
Also, there are giant frogs.
--recommend, but only to those not faint of heart or will or stomach

2009 Book Count To-Date: 17

dream #75, revisited

As I herumgestöbert in my blog with its new template, I came across something that made me laugh. Posted on December 27, 2005, "dream #75" was one of the dreams I translated via the online translator, with what were, to me, hilarious results.

My favorite part is that the spider "would not become squoosh." I really, really hate it when spiders--and/or ticks--refuse to become squoosh.

So once again, just for fun, here is "dream #75" in all its weirdly translated glory:

dream #75
recorded June 27, 2005

For your reading pleasure I give you once again peeps in the foreign world of dreams and on-line translators. Find below please the 75-th dream which I registered in my dream magazine first on English then in German. The translations into both languages are complaisance of that. Enjoy!

Back Pain and Hallucinations

Last night I dreamed that a spider on my left arm crept. I tried to squoosh, but it would not become squoosh. When I understood that it was not about to die, I looked at it closer and understood that it was a tick! I continued to hit my arm, to smoosh the tick trying, but it would also not become smoosh. My only execution was to do my arm pain. So, in the end, I smooshed it between my thumbnails.

I thought that I was now o.k., but then I saw that there was a bump behind my left hand. I bumped after the bump, and something moved in it. I started being earned gross, but I seized a knife and began to cut in the skin at the back of my hand. The skin was really thick and meaty: I did not cut deeply enough even to hit bone, but I cut open 1 inch thick fabric from the back of my hand. I unloaded the fabric on the table. Blood and flaps of the meat were everywhere. I saw, in the end, that the moving thing was a spider in my hand. His legs were long and thin, and when I drew them, the spider glided directly from the back of my hand. This was still alive.

Me turned Ed and to speak me tried ones, but nothing would come out. I could not believe that I had cut just in my hand like this, and that a spider had lived under my skin. Ed it was earned just absolutely gross. The spider did weak, twitching movements on the table. Then there ended the dream.

When I woke, my whole left arm was a sore place, from my finger points the whole way in my shoulder and highly back. I think that I slept wrong on my left side, and my brain translated pain into the weird spider and discs of sharp images. YUCK!

chocolate and roses out, dreamy-ethereal-silhouetty stuff in

For Facebookers: Check out my new blog template here.

As those of you who voted can see, I didn't go with the template most of you picked. I can't even remember now which one that was, and though I could go back and check, I'm not going to do so because it's 4:30 in the morning, I am unwillingly awake, and checking would require too much effort at this point.

Anyway, thanks to everyone who voted, and I hope you're not terribly disappointed. However, in spite of the fact that I requested your votes, this is not a democracy, and as Grand Poobah and Amazon Queen of my blog, I reserve every right to veto. ;o)

So, enjoy the new blog look. I do.

Now, all I need is a new profile pic...

this will probably interest only other writers. and maybe those who obsess over the criminal justice system.

So, in case I've never mentioned it here: There is a stupendous organization called Writer Beware!, whose gurus make it their business to seek out despicable, writer-scamming scum-vermin and hunt down said scum-vermin and use super-sonic ray guns to blast said scum-vermin to smithereens, thereby preserving the sanity and pocketbooks of hapless writers all over the galaxy.

I might be exaggerating a teense.

But just a teense.

Writer Beware! really does provide an incredibly helpful and vital-to-the-writing-life service. If you are thinking of publishing a book, you need to do some research within the WB! blog, especially concerning vanity publishers, POD services, and scam artists posing as agents. (Another good site for such research is Preditors & Editors, which reminds me that I need to update my links list, which in turn reminds me that I need to change my blog template.)

Anyway, Writer Beware! has released a wonderful tidbit of news that has caused my heart to leap with joy like a fleet-footed fawn tasting the first fresh airs of robust spring. You can read this new here if you wish, but I shall graciously extend it to you in the following nutshell:

There's gonna be a special division in the FBI for going after the despicable, writer-scamming scum-vermin.

That's right. Writer Beware! is getting federal help. From the F. B. I. Which is so way awesomely cool, I could just do the potato wave right here.

Watch out, you despicable, writer-scamming scum-vermin, you. You're about to get super-sonic-ray-gun-blasted.

who told you?

This made me cry a little.

telling it like it is--a side effect of mission work

Frankly, when you do mission work, a lot of people put you up on a pedestal, and that's a really bad place to be.

Because it's easy to fall off.

I'm not going to go into the every-Christian-is-by-definition-a-missionary, because that is another story and shall be told another time. My point for this particular blopgost is that many people (1) seem to think that only a "special few" have what it takes to tell others about Jesus in a "foreign" (also a topic for another time) country; (2) these same people make a big fuss over those who tell others about Jesus in a foreign country; and (3) these same people continue to put the "missionaries" up on a pedestal even 1.4 years after said "missionaries" are no longer working in a foreign country.

Please note that I am not trying to mock anyone or infuse my post with contempt for the well-intentioned folks who "fuss" over me.

I just wish there were a brief yet polite way to communicate that...

..."I'm proud of you" is not a phrase that makes me feel good.
I am not the one who did the work--*God* did it--so there's no reason for me to be proud. The other person is not the one who did the work--so why should they be proud? I am glad I did the work; I wouldn't trade my time as a "missionary" for anything; I am pleased that God used me to encourage others. But pride is a dangerous thing for me, and I'd like to avoid even the appearance of it, even if it's well-meant.

...I appreciate the encouragement, but I do not want to be elevated in anyone's eyes.
The pedestal thing really doesn't work for me. Actually, it scares me--because pedestals are high; and I've been up there before; and I have liked it; and I have fallen. I really don't want to be up there again and face the possibility of liking the lofty heights again. There's only one way off, and it's fast, and it really hurts when you hit the bottom.

...it's an honor for people to be in the presence of God.
It is not an honor for people to be in the presence of me. I am no different, no better, no higher, no purer, nor more admirable than any other human being. Save the honor and the praise for God, because he is the only one who has done something to deserve it. He is the only one who *is* something to deserve it.

...I love to feel appreciated, and I love to hear that I'm appreciated.
Encourage me, yes. Be my friend, yes. Tell me you love me, yes. Ask me for my stories, yes. That is the way to let me know that I have encouraged you, that I mean something to you. But don't feed my ego. It's big enough already.

What is the way to say this in ten words or fewer? :o) I try really hard to give credit where it's due (--> GOD), but it's hard to find the right words without hurting the feelings of the well-intentioned. And I just don't want to hurt anybody. I've done enough of that, too.

*sigh* Life is hard, and then you do the potato wave.

I don't know exactly what that means, but I think it's the truth. ;o)

oh, and by the way...

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE.

Need I say more? ;oD

a few items of randomness

I have really been enjoying getting books from the library.

Also, I like to read them.

I think this is positively lovely. It's nice to know that there's a guy out there who just wants to make a girl's day go better. To that anonymous gentleman: You know a lot about women. Don't forget. :o)

Yesterday, I got to witness the power of prayer working in the life of a 6-year-old girl suffering from cherubism. A scheduled 6-hour surgery that only took an hour-and-a-half, and she got to go home today. God is good.

Our TV is broken, and we haven't gotten to watch this week's episode of Lost yet. I am in mourning.

I plan to factor the purchase of the "Twilight" DVD into our budget for April, and I plan to purchase said DVD on April 1st--no fooling.

Today, I heard two fish stories--one big, one little--and they both made me laugh.

Today, I remembered that Jim Carrey is the reason I didn't like "Batman Forever." I have enjoyed Carrey's performances in (a couple of) other films, but his "Riddler" in BF is just tasteless.

Christian Bale is my favorite Batman, hands down.

I miss seeing Chris O'Donnell in movies.

I really don't care what any radio dj looks like without his glasses.

It was a blast to spend the afternoon of Janine's birthday with her. I miss my Saxony friends.

I would like to live somewhere with a yearlong temperature between 68 and 80 degrees Fahrenheit.

If either my brain or my consciousness were somehow transplanted/transferred into a man's body, I don't think I'd be able to walk.

Hey, Germans: Do any of you remember "Knuffelbunte"? I had a pink one when I was a kid.

I started a painting in January, and I haven't finished it.

People have been asking me lately if I have lost weight, and I have answered "yes," and I have liked it.

I'm going to stop writing this and go to bed now.

fyi, i've answered the most recent comments

my first ever post about a professional sport

Ed and I went to tonight's Thunder game. This was only the second time I've ever been to a professional basketball game, and I have to say that the first game a few months ago was more enjoyable than the second. Tonight, the refs stopped the game so often, it was as though somebody had a big remote control somewhere and kept hitting "pause." :oP But Jennifer, Andy, and Joel were there, so we made up in silly fun-ness for what the game lacked in continuous excitement. ;o) And I really enjoyed the extreme dunking guys during halftime!

On the way back our cars after the game, Jennifer and I spotted something funny-odd. In the sidewalk were two rectangular metal plates, about the size of a regular sheet of paper. Embossed on both plates was the following:

NO TRESPASSING

ECLIPSE BLOW-OFF

Quoi? How could anybody trespass beneath the sidewalk? The plates weren't really large enough to allow access to any adult human with a pelvis and collar bones. And "eclipse blow-off"? I'm assuming it's not a "Twilight" reference. ;o) Do the plates blow off the sidewalk if there's an eclipse? Are we supposed to blow off the eclipse if one happens?

I'm having visions of little metal plates all over the city, exploding into the air at the first sign of the moon's edging over into the sun's territory.

This world is not short on oddities.

changing my blog template

Greetings all,

I have decided to change my blog template. I've found several options that I like, but I'm having trouble choosing between them. If you're inclined to help me out, please check out the templates below and tell me which one you think would suit me best. I'll probably give this another week before I make a final decision.

Thanks!

Template options:

Grungy
Solipsus
Dream Light
The Hobbit
Going Home (This one is on a different site than the others, and the sample template is smaller.)

why i'll always love fiction...

...both reading it and writing it:

"Ultimately, conflict is the reason we read novels. It forces characters to make decisions, it tests their strengths and weaknesses, it reveals what makes people tick. Conflict, ultimately is revealing.

"A man serenely walking down the street is not a story. It only becomes a story when he is captured by space monkeys who try to force him to root for Duke. Now that's conflict."

--Nathan Bransford,
literary agent

faith and fixing things

This evening, in a group discussion, we talked about the definition of faith and what role faith plays in relationships. Here are some thoughts this discussion inspired in me:

As some of you know, I am, by nature/nurture, a "fixer" of things. I see something broken, I want to fix it. I see a problem, I want to solve it. I see another person's dilemma, I want to resolve it. My instinctive reaction is, "Oooh! A challenge! Let's stop talking about it and DO something about it!"

It is very frustrating and discouraging to others when I react this way.

They don't want me to fix it.
They just want me to listen.
They just want me to feel with them.

This has been a very difficult lesson for me to learn. In the course of learning this lesson, I hurt people who were close to me. I did some severe damage to some very important relationships, relationships that are still recovering from my immaturity. And my arrogance.

I fight against this natural/nurtural tendency to try to fix everything. I still have to squelch that initial, overeager, overbearing reaction--and I will probably have to exercise that rigid self-control for the rest of my life. But I am *learning*. I am growing. And that's the point.

Here's my definition of how faith should affect my relationships:

Faith is acting on the knowledge that when someone opens up to me, it is not my job to "fix" that person. It is not my job to fix that person's problem. It is not my job to worry and nitpick over how/when that person is ever going to change.

It is not my job to offer a solution. Why not? --> Because any solution I offer is a solution based on *my* experiences, *my* vision, *my* thought patterns, *my* emotions. The solution that I consider so clear and so right might be completely wrong if applied to the other person's life.

Faith is acting on the knowledge that God has a plan for the other person. Faith is acting on the knowledge that God has a "time schedule" for the other person, and that is *not* the time schedule that *I* would set. And this is The Way It Should Be.

My job is to make myself vulnerable and submissive to God's-will / God's-precepts / the-relationship-laws-God-has-set-up-for-his-universe.
My job is to let that will / those precepts/laws change me from the inside out.
My job is to ask questions in order to help others figure out what their worldview really is.
My job is to help others get to know who the Being is who set those precepts/laws in motion. The other humans' reaction to that Being is entirely up to them.

a young existentialist, sort of

This poor, dentist-drugged kid is asking the questions that plague most of us at some point in our lives:

Is this real life?

Why is this happening to me?

Is this gonna be forEVER?

I don't know if this video is funny or sad, but you can see it here.

book comments 14

“The Willoughbys” by Lois Lowry
A Novel
Nefariously Written & Ignominiously Illustrated by the Author
That “nefariously” line isn’t actually part of the title, but it’s printed on the front of the book, and I love it.
I liked everything about this book.
--story of the four Willoughby children who decide they would make good orphans and must therefore get rid of their parents
--funny, witty, sarcastic, morbid, parodying multiple conventions of children’s literature
--Lowry’s newest novel, and she does not disappoint
--highly recommend to anyone who enjoys children’s lit, satire, humor, or just plain good stories
Note: Lowry describes herself as “a wizened, reclusive old woman who sits hunched over her desk thinking obsessively about the placement of commas.” I adore her for this. That’s going to be me someday, you just watch. ;o)

“The Night Angel Trilogy 1: The Way of Shadows” by Brent Weeks
--story of Azoth, a street kid trying to get out of the horrible life he was born into
--fantasy story of betrayal, hardship, least-of-multiple-evils choices, love, faith, forgiveness, redemption
--gritty and dark
--one theme is child abuse, and there is some vulgar language --> caveat emptor; kids and young teens shouldn’t read this
--compelling characters (especially main characters!), nonstop action --> left me breathless, unable to put the book down
I’ll definitely read the second novel in the trilogy.
--recommend to fantasy fans and anyone interested in aforementioned themes

“Nights in Rodanthe” by Nicholas Sparks
--story of middle-aged mom Adrienne, looking back on the time she unexpectedly found love and figured herself out
As Sparks novels go, this one was somewhat disappointing; definitely not on the level of “Notebook,” “Wedding,” and “Walk to Remember.” I checked it out to see if reading it would make me want to see the movie.
It didn't make me want to see the movie. (I might see the movie anyway, but only because of Diane Lane.)
--characters were well-developed but lacked vibrancy
--did not suck me in; I never really got emotionally involved with anyone in the story
--possible exception was Adrienne’s daughter, but she was a minor character
--use of big coastal storm to symbolize peak of action seemed cliché to me
Celia asked me how I enjoyed it, and my honest response was, “Meh.”
Unconditional Sparks fans will like this one, but I neither recommend nor disrecommend it. ;o)

“Winter Moon”
Collection of three fantasy novellas

“Moontide” by Mercedes Lackey
--story of Moira, trying to foil her father’s plot against the king
--sounds classic fairy-tale
--But.
--heroine's training as a magic-wielding assassin adds quite the twist ;o)
--strong, vivid characters; well-developed, fast-moving plot
--loved how Kedric reacts when Moira goes off to fight Massid
As expected, this novella is yet more proof that Lackey is a master.
--recommend

“The Heart of the Moon” by Tanith Lee
First of all, this lady has a terrific first name.
Also, she writes really well. ;o)
--story of Clirando, seeking inner peace after getting her best friend banished
--loss, betrayal, consequences of choices, love, redemption
--fascinating cultural ideas about the moon and spiritual life
--great world-building, well-developed characters, lovely surprise ending
--recommend

“Banshee Cries” by C.E. Murphy
I’d never heard of Murphy, so I didn’t know what to expect.
I was definitely *not* disappointed.
--story of Joanne (aka Joanie, aka Siobhan), a cop with magical “shaman” powers, trying to solve a case of ritualistic murders in Seattle
--very strong, clear characters
--main character is especially vivid, full of great contradictions and inner conflict
--confusing to me at times, because of the mix of Native American “magic” and Celtic “magic”
--but the reconciling of the two cultures was interesting
Murphy sucked me in with the very first line: “Cell phones are the most detestable objects on the face of the earth.” ;o)
--recommend

I don’t get into novellas as much as I do novels, for the obvious reason that they’re shorter, and some of the story- and character-developments are truncated. That's why these three get plain “recommend”s instead of “highly”s. ;o) But I did enjoy all three, and I think any fantasy fan would get a kick out of them. Lackey’s and Lee’s are more standard sword-and-sorcery stuff, and Murphy’s adds an interesting present-day-our-world contrast.


2009 Book Count To-Date: 12

book comments 13

"Brisingr, or: The Seven Promises of Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular -- Inheritance Book III" by Christopher Paolini

--Okay. So in this post, I complained about a book I hadn't enjoyed, and I mentioned looking forward to "Brisingr" as being a story I could read without getting "tied up in knots."
Unfortunately, my powers of prognostication proved inaccurate.

--Don't get me wrong. "Brisingr" is a great story: action, adventure, fantastical creatures and cultures, despair, flawed-yet-triumphant heroism, etc.

--But.

--wordiness (the title is only the beginning), lengthy descriptions, generous use of adverbs, occasional grammatical errors
--Paolini has created multiple languages for his "Eragon" universe. No problem there--I appreciate very much the linguistic skill that takes.
--But.
--There's a word in Paolini's dwarf language that's composed of thirteen letters. Only three of those letters are vowels. Impossible for me to pronounce in my head, let alone try to sound out aloud. That "dwarven" word dwarfs everything else that's going on. Can we say "interrupts flow of story"? Yes, we can. Uffda.
--the forging of Eragon's sword: highly important to the plot
--BUT.
--NOT important enough to describe it for 14 PAGES
--Paolini seems to be taking advantage of the fact that he *knows* the book will sell, no matter what he puts into it, so he's giving himself free rein to write about something he's personally interested in (his "Acknowlegdements" even mentions his interest) instead of what the reader is interested in, namely the characters and the moving-on-with-the-story-already.
--Still, I enjoyed the read. Eragon's story is a great epic, and I'm amazed at some of the plot twists Paolini comes up with. He's a master at world-building, that's certain.
--recommend, but only to die-hard fantasy/Eragon fans

"The Giver" by Lois Lowry
--Oh, how I love love love love love this book.
--story of Jonas, a boy in a perfect society who discovers that his society is perfectly hideous--and he is the only one who knows
--Anyone who enjoys and marvels at George Orwell's "1984" and "Animal Farm" needs to read this one.
--Lowry takes your preconceptions and dismantles them one at a time--in such a subtle, innocent way that it leaves you talking out loud to the book, begging it not to be so.
--I read this once as a teenager; this was my first re-read as an adult. --> so much more understanding now! such a greater emotional impact...
--I both love and hate the ambiguous ending.
--HIGHLY recommend

"Star Trek: The Next Generation -- Triangle: Imzadi II" by Peter David
--first time I've read a ST novel in probably ten years
--second reading of this one
--great plot, interesting twists, David takes the TV characters and translates them perfectly to the page
--especially interesting because scenes from the film "Star Trek: Generations" appear in this book
--too many adverbs, a little too much "telling" instead of "showing" (as in: telling me what the characters are feeling instead of showing me through their words & actions)
--great read for any ST:TNG fan

"Leap Before You Look" by Mary Stolz
--This one's been on my shelves since I was a teenager, and I'd never read it before. Why? Dunno.
--story of a girl named Jimmie who watches her parents' marriage fall apart into divorce
--The novel was published in 1972, so the dialogue contains a lot of great slang that's no longer in use today.
--also a fascinating look at American culture of nearly 40 years ago: connections to the Women's Liberation Movement, the racism of the times (some of which is still very current, unfortunately)...
--a great read for teens --> an interesting challenge to try relating to, since the culture of then was so very different from today's
--recommend

"Mark of the Lion II: An Echo in the Darkness" by Francine Rivers
--sequel to "A Voice in the Wind", continues the story of the Valerians, a family of 1st-century Romans who come into contact with Christianity
--Anyone who has ever struggled with faith will relate to this novel.
--Marcus's anguish and journey toward faith are heart-wrenching and uplifting. --> I cried pretty much throughout the whole book.
--again, a challenge to my own faith
--I'm amazed at how Rivers takes real, spiritual struggle and translates it into fictional characters who face the challenging questions we all answer at some point in our lives.
--Rivers does a little too much "telling" instead of "showing."
--Still, this one was even better than the first one.
--HIGHLY recommend!!!

P.S. I gave "A Voice in the Wind" to my mom for Christmas; she read it and promptly bought this second book AND the third one. So I'll start the third one soon!

Courtney's 2009 Book Total To-Date: 8

le fou, i'm afraid i've been thinking...

...but not about wacky old men.

Well, maybe I have. But I don't want to embarrass them by mentioning any names.

Anyway, another thing I've been thinking about (and at this point, I could use the word "pondering," which invites reminiscing on Pinky and the Brain) is the fact that I am not the prolific blogger I once was.

I've now been blogging for 4 & 1/2 years, and it's been an interesting experience. A predominantly positive experience. A good enough experience that I have kept up with it, posting at least once per month for 54 months, minus October and November 2004, when I inexplicably and temporarily lost interest, and October 2006, when Ed's dad had three heart attacks and we were in the States for a month.

Sure, I've never blogged multiple times per day, so I guess I'm not prolific at all, compared with some people. But I'm not comparing myself with some people, I'm comaring myself with me, and me says that I've blopgosted consistently for 4.5 years now, and that makes me prolific. So there.

However, I don't blog nearly as much as I used to, and I think that's a direct result of my novel-writing. I'll let you in on a little secret: I am not witty. You know those people who come up with the perfect puns and terrific turns-of-phrase on the spot, so much so that others tell them, "Hey, you should be writing this stuff down!"? I'm not one of those people. I have only so much brain power to go around. So when I stumble upon one of those literary gems that sparkle in the dark recesses of my brain's Spare Oom, my first thought is not "blog this."

Actually and unfortunately, my first thought usually is, "How can I turn this into a Facebook status update?" But then I take that impulse and beat it into submission so that I might use that sparkly gem not for the evils of FB-status-updating...

...but for the good of The Story.

When you're a writer and you're writing (which is what you should be doing, if you are a writer), everything is for the good of The Story. Snatches of overheard conversation are for the good of The Story. Every weird dream is for the good of The Story. Every attractive fellow human who has an asymmetrical facial feature is for the good of The Story. Every interesting way of saying something is for the good of The Story.

I think that's why I haven't been blogging as much. I've been pouring all my creative energy into The Story--which, of course, is exactly where it should go!--and letting the blog catch whatever happens to be left, which generally isn't much. I'm not bemoaning or bewailing or becomplaining. Just stating facts--and getting out the thoughts that aren't related to wacky old men.

Another pondering has been what will happen to the blog once I start publishing books. Not that I expect to be overrun by rabid fans scouring the intarwebz for snippets of info about me. However, I do keep in mind that there is enough personal information on this blog that someone could find me if they really wanted to--and connect my name on a book with all the personal info on this blog. So, writer that I am, as I ponder this, I begin having visions of stalkers, and weirdos showing up at my door at 11pm, and identity theft, and manic car chases down I-35, and is there Another Story in here somewhere?

Seriously, I could really scare myself with all these potentialities if I carried on. It wouldn't take much. Not much at all.

*sigh*

Anyway, I'm having thoughts about encryptions and passworded blogs and high-tech security and other fun what-ifs. I guess if I had to, I could delete the blog. All I would lose would be the comments; I back up everything else. But I wouldn't want to lose the comments. I like the comments. I adore the comments. If I were the obsessive type, I would print out the comments and wallpaper my bathroom with them.

Comments?

;o)

interesting music

If this were a Facebook status update, it would read as follows:

Courtney thinks you should check out the links below to listen to the musical artistry of one Zoe Keating. She does this really cool thing with a cello and playbacks of her own various riffs. I don't have a clue how to describe it clearly; you'll just have to go listen and watch...

...here and here and also here.

typing woes

My computer does a weird thing when I write comments on people's Facebook pages: As I type, the words take a loooooooong time to appear on the screen, and they appear one slow letter at a time. So, as I'm typing away, I can't see what I'm actually writing until the computer catches up to my fingers. This has some odd results, including the following tidbit:

themv lnbt uIdknwhow to g bolengtkin ovunerbindincy argeale...

I don't even know what I was trying to say!

oh, and in case you were wondering

That hour of step aerobics I did on Monday?

Yeah, I have been in agony since yesterday around 9am. Jennifer and I went running at 7:30 yesterday morning, and I'd hoped that would be enough to work out the major sorenesses before they made their appearance.

Um. So, that didn't work at all.

Stairs were like an obstacle course yesterday.

Today, I spent most of my time shuffling around like an old woman because I couldn't straighten my legs. The BACKS OF MY KNEES hurt.

Why the backs of my knees? What normal person has muscle soreness in the backs of their KNEES, I ask you?

And no, DON'T answer that question, because I KNOW that the backs of my knees have been out of shape for most of my life, and intellectually I accept this, but I am trying to have a good rant here, so don't get in my way, dig?

*sigh*

Thank you.

I feel much better now.

Actually, painful and walk-inhibiting though it is, I have been enjoying the physical proof that I did some pretty intensive exercise.

I am already excited about next Monday's aerobics class. :o)

what i ate today, day 3

What I Ate Wednesday, Feb. 4th

1/2 cup oatmeal, 140 calories
2 tbsp. Smart Balance soy butter, 100 cal
1/4 of an apple, 10 cal
2 tbsp. Splenda
1 cup tea, 2 cal

2 cups bean soup, approx. 450 cal
1 slice Smart Balance cheese, 40 cal
4 pieces Wasa crispbread, 140 cal
1 cup tea, 2 cal

2 cups veggie stir-fry in extra virgin olive oil, 250 cal
1 cup tea, 2 cal

6 ounces plain Activia yoghurt, 130 cal
1/2 cup tuna, 100 cal
4 pieces Wasa crispbread, 140 cal
1 Airborne, 5 cal

Total calories: 1511

I had an obsession with Wasa crispbread today, for some reason.

I ate a lot of fiber today. I think I'll pay for that tomorrow. I know, I know. Totally TMI. ;o)

I enjoyed the tea today, but I sure did miss my coffee. We're out of soy milk, and I can't drink coffee black. Yea verily, the tea was jolly good, but still not the same as my good German coffee (courtesy of Aldi, thank you muchly). I enjoy a mixture of coffee and tea throughout the day--though not in the same cup, of course! Don't be silly. ;o)

I'm not totally thrilled about my calorie total today, but c'est la vie. I said I wasn't going to change any habits this week and would merely track my intake, so that's what I'm gonna do.

Fare thee well for today!

P.S. I am paying for the large amount of crispbread with a mild case of heartburn. FAIL. (The bread, not me. ;o)

more "food" for food-thought ;o)

"The average American is wolfing down 460 calories from added sugars every day. That’s more than 100 pounds of raw sugar per person per year (enough to make 3,628 Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups!).

"What’s at risk with all this sugar intake isn’t just another cavity; refined carbohydrates cause spikes in your blood sugar levels, tell your body to store fat, and put people at increased risk for diabetes. That's another way of saying that it puts people at increased risk of blindness, sexual malfunction, heart attack, and premature death.

"All that from a simple candy bar or soda? Consider this: A dollar will buy you about 75 calories' worth of fresh broccoli, but food manufacturers can use that same dollar to purchase 1,815 calories of sugar. And thanks to government subsidies, high fructose corn syrup, the synthetic sweetener found in so many of the foods in our grocery stores, is even cheaper. It should come as no surprise, then, that added sugars are sabotaging nearly every packaged and prepared food we put in our bodies—pasta sauces, smoothies, even whole grain breads."

--from this by Matt Goulding

what i ate today, day 2

What I Ate Tuesday, February 3rd

1/2 cup oatmeal, 140 calories
2 tbsp. Smart Balance soy butter, 100 cal
1/4 of an apple, 10 cal
2 tbsp. Splenda
2 cups coffee, 8 cal
2/3 cup soy milk, 50 cal
4 tbsp. Splenda

IHOP's Garden Scramble, 430 cal
extra butter, 100 cal?
water!

1/2 cup fat-free cottage cheese, 80 cal
1/2 tomato, 15 cal

1 piece of bread, 125 cal?
1 apple, 60 cal
1 clementine, 35 cal
3 cups tea, 6 cal

Total calories: approx. 1160

And I drank more non-coffee liquid today than I did yesterday.

AND I did an hour of step aerobics yesterday evening AND ran 20 minutes this morning. It has been oodles of time since I last did aerobics, so everything hurt today. Stairs--both up and down--have been torture. But, masochist that I am, I enjoy every tiny little muscle pain because it shows I finally *did* something. Uffda!

I actually am a teensy bit hungry right now--but it's more that my stomach is saying "I just emptied--don't you think you need to fill me again?" rather than genuine I-need-sustenance.

About that Garden Scramble at IHOP for lunch: It consisted of two pancakes with butter and fake scrambled eggs (Eggbeaters, maybe?) with mushrooms, tomatoes, and green peppers. *smack* Absolutely delish. The calorie content was fairly low, which pleases me. What does not put the cream in my coffee is my suspicion that the pancakes were packed with--you guessed it--partially hydrogenated oils. I have no basis for this suspicion other than my knowledge that restaurants habitually use them in everything.

However, I didn't use any syrup on my pancakes, so at least I avoided the corn syrup. Oh, by the way: Pancake syrup is made of corn syrup, unless you're buying the expensive real maple syrup. And that's your free food fact for the evening. ;o)

Ta!

P.S. I *thoroughly* enjoyed that IHOP lunch. And not just because of the company, either. ;o) Hugs to Pam and Jennifer!

some general thoughts on food

I don't believe in dieting.

Diets are bad for you.

Diets don't work.

Diets are inadequate and will make you miserable.

I am into changing my eating lifestyle.

This is not a diet. It is a lifelong habit.

For the record, if I can avoid them, I don't eat foods containing corn syrup or partially hydrogenated oils.

Corn syrup is just bad and bad and bad for you all around. And I do mean AROUND. And it's in everything: soft drinks, snack bars, granola bars, peanut butter (unless you're buying all-natural brands), many canned goods, Gatorade, fruit drinks, many breads, most sweetened cereals, ad infinitum ad NAUSEUM. Gag me.

Partially hydrogenated oils are in everything, too. Dr. Oz says that if Americans quit consuming part. hydr. oils, we'd each lose an average of 35 lbs. in a year. 35 pounds!!! That's the size of a small child! In a year!

Like corn syrup, part. hydr. oils are bad and bad and bad for you and in everything: Burgers, chips, potato salad from the deli, cookies, cakes, doughnuts, COFFEEMATE, deep-fried food......and generally most pre-made or pre-packaged food.

This stuff will screw up your arteries and give you heart disease, among lots of other fun things like slowing down your metabolism and making you crave more and more food (because your poor body is still desperately trying to get the good fats it needs).

I have banned corn syrup and part. hydr. oils from our home--which means that we don't keep snacks or desserts anymore, much to Ed's chagrin and my occasional craving-panic. But it's worth it: As far as eating habits are concerned, we're both healthier than we've ever been. I snacked on an apple and a clementine tonight...

...and I liked it. ;o)

P.S. Most European countries have banned partially hydrogenated oils from their food industries.

P.S.S. Products labeled "0 trans fats" can still contain part. hydr. oils--basically the same thing.

P.S.S.S. I didn't drink enough water today.

what i ate today, day 1

I was talking with Celia the other day about keeping a food journal. I don't know that I'll do this on a long-term basis, but I thought it might be interesting to journal my food intake for a week. I won't be changing my diet from what it usually is, so this is a look at my general eating lifestyle. I feel as though I'm generally well aware of what I'm eating, so I wonder if this week-long project will reveal any surprises.

What I Ate, Monday, February 2nd

1/2 cup oatmeal, 140 calories
2 tbsp. Smart Balance soy butter, 100 cal
1/4 of an apple, 10 cal
2 tbsp. Splenda
1 cup coffee, 4 cal
1/3 cup soy milk, 25 cal
2 tbsp. Splenda

1 1/2 cups fat-free cottage cheese, 200 cal
1/2 tomato, 15 cal
2 pieces of bread, unknown calorie content
1 Airborne, 5 cal

3 eggs, 240 cal (total)
2 tbsp. olive oil, 240 cal
2 slices Smart Balance cheese, 80 cal (total)
3 slices Hormel Natural Choice smoked turkey, 60 cal
1/4 cup soy milk, 17 cal
1 apple, 55 cal
1 clementine, 35 cal

Total calories: 986 calories + unknown number in bread = approx. 1200?

No big surprises today, I guess. But I wasn't around any temptations, either. Plus, I am a social eater: When I get around people, I tend to overeat. Also, when I'm not the one preparing my food, I can't know exactly what I'm eating.

Also, today I did an hour of step aerobics! Yay, my heart is happy. But, oh, I'm going to be sore tomorrow. :o)