Sunday, October 21, 2007
Me-Me-Me-Meme
I have been tagged by Kim at Knit Whimsies. The purpose of this particular meme is to post eight random things about myself. But there's some language to include - the not-so-fine print, which is below:
The Rules:Once tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you. Then post the rules before your list, and list 8 random things about yourself. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to 8 other people, visit their sites, and leave a comment letting them know they’ve been tagged.
Once again, I'm going to have trouble listing eight other people to tag, but I'll give it the old college try. So, eight random things about me . . .
1. I keep a stack of books beside my bed. I can't live without reading material. Sometimes I don't get to them all.
2. I heard a Moby song today at the grocery store and it made me realize how much I like his music and how much I miss it. I haven't listened to any Moby in months. I really must buy some of his albums, rather than borrow them from the library.
3. I'm obsessive about backing up my writing files.
4. I'm not obsessive about editing my writing. I edit as I write (I know - it's a sin in the writing world to do this), so my stories and essays are pretty much finished by the time I'm done writing. (Please help your editor friends off the floor. I think they've fainted.)
5. I'm totally envious of Neil Gaiman's writing output. Does this guy fret over editing?
6. Eldest Son and Daughter are both taller than I am. Young Son is not far behind.
7. While I'm glad I have an art degree, I'm really jonesing for the sociology degree my husband is working toward.
8. I own an original Geek Squad t-shirt, handed to me by Robert Stevens (Stephens?) himself, while I was at the Minnesota State Fair. Stevens (Stephens? - Somebody please give me the proper spelling!) was a co-founder of Geek Squad, which is now owned by Best Buy.
Okay, now it's time to tag. I'll tag Livy, Lex, Ariel, Rianna, Soloist, and Reeva Dubois. Hey, that's six people. Not bad.
The Rules:Once tagged, you must link to the person who tagged you. Then post the rules before your list, and list 8 random things about yourself. At the end of the post, you must tag and link to 8 other people, visit their sites, and leave a comment letting them know they’ve been tagged.
Once again, I'm going to have trouble listing eight other people to tag, but I'll give it the old college try. So, eight random things about me . . .
1. I keep a stack of books beside my bed. I can't live without reading material. Sometimes I don't get to them all.
2. I heard a Moby song today at the grocery store and it made me realize how much I like his music and how much I miss it. I haven't listened to any Moby in months. I really must buy some of his albums, rather than borrow them from the library.
3. I'm obsessive about backing up my writing files.
4. I'm not obsessive about editing my writing. I edit as I write (I know - it's a sin in the writing world to do this), so my stories and essays are pretty much finished by the time I'm done writing. (Please help your editor friends off the floor. I think they've fainted.)
5. I'm totally envious of Neil Gaiman's writing output. Does this guy fret over editing?
6. Eldest Son and Daughter are both taller than I am. Young Son is not far behind.
7. While I'm glad I have an art degree, I'm really jonesing for the sociology degree my husband is working toward.
8. I own an original Geek Squad t-shirt, handed to me by Robert Stevens (Stephens?) himself, while I was at the Minnesota State Fair. Stevens (Stephens? - Somebody please give me the proper spelling!) was a co-founder of Geek Squad, which is now owned by Best Buy.
Okay, now it's time to tag. I'll tag Livy, Lex, Ariel, Rianna, Soloist, and Reeva Dubois. Hey, that's six people. Not bad.
Labels: daughter, editing, eldest son, geek squad, husband, meme, moby, neil gaiman, random stuff about me, reading, sociology, writing, young son
Monday, October 15, 2007
Old News & Modern Art
Today was a writing day. I managed almost 1,000 words on a new story, the last in my Greenville series. Because I was busy with that, today I'm presenting you with some old news. Last week, on my birthday, my husband, Young Son #2 and I took a trip to Blanchard Dam. I had never been before and neither had Young Son. I was wholly impressed with the dam, the Soo Line trestle bridge (which is now a recreational trail) and all of the graffiti. Now, I know there are lots of people out there who can't standing graffiti, what with its defacement of public and private property, but that aside, I can truly appreciate the artistry presented. Especially when you think about the pressure the artists must be facing to get their tagging done before they are caught.
Labels: art, artist, blanchard dam, graffiti, greenville, husband, short story, writing, young son
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Night at the Museum
A couple of nights ago, hubby and I sat down with Young Son #2 to watch "Night at the Museum." As a museum manager, I like to see how movies portray the museum experience. Plus, the previews made this look like a fun movie, in no small part thanks to Ben Stiller. It did not disappoint. The movie plays on the wishful thinking of museum staff and visitors in that everything in the exhibits comes to life at night. (I know I sure wish I could talk to the people I've read about who've passed into history.)
Ben Stiller plays Larry Daley, the new night watchman. He's replacing three older security guards played by Dick Van Dyke, Mickey Rooney, and Bill Cobbs, all of whom give stellar performances. There's a bit of predictability in the plot in that Larry is a dreamer who can't seem to get anything accomplished, but he must because he's the non-custodial parent in a divorce situation and has to provide security for his kid. The creators of the movie did a seamless job in bringing the museum exhibits to life, especially the T-Rex installation. Owen Wilson and Robin Williams are hilarious and lend to the credibility. The only thing that seemed weird is that certain exhibits caused all sorts of chaos, but others just seemed to wander around aimlessly in the background - like that giant jade Chinese dog. I wasn't keen on the museum director, who was a stuffy fuddy-duddy. That's not what most museum directors are like, but we still have to deal with the reputation because it keeps getting played that way in movies.
All-in-all, "Night at the Museum" was a good movie and plays well with kids.
As an aside, Dick Van Dyke has always reminded me of my dad, especially when he was younger. It's the jaw. My dad has the same strong jaw Dick Van Dyke has.
Ben Stiller plays Larry Daley, the new night watchman. He's replacing three older security guards played by Dick Van Dyke, Mickey Rooney, and Bill Cobbs, all of whom give stellar performances. There's a bit of predictability in the plot in that Larry is a dreamer who can't seem to get anything accomplished, but he must because he's the non-custodial parent in a divorce situation and has to provide security for his kid. The creators of the movie did a seamless job in bringing the museum exhibits to life, especially the T-Rex installation. Owen Wilson and Robin Williams are hilarious and lend to the credibility. The only thing that seemed weird is that certain exhibits caused all sorts of chaos, but others just seemed to wander around aimlessly in the background - like that giant jade Chinese dog. I wasn't keen on the museum director, who was a stuffy fuddy-duddy. That's not what most museum directors are like, but we still have to deal with the reputation because it keeps getting played that way in movies.
All-in-all, "Night at the Museum" was a good movie and plays well with kids.
As an aside, Dick Van Dyke has always reminded me of my dad, especially when he was younger. It's the jaw. My dad has the same strong jaw Dick Van Dyke has.
Labels: ben stiller, bill cobbs, dad, dick van dyke, husband, mickey rooney, movie, museum, owen wilson, robin williams, young son
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tie One On
I can tie a necktie in the dark with my eyes closed. Okay, so that's redundant. Either way, I can't see. The point is that I can tie a necktie without seeing. I had to do it this morning. Young Son was having class pictures taken and he wanted to wear a suit jacket and tie. His choice, not mine. Strange little boy, he is. He does not yet know how to tie a tie, so he thrust it at me while I was still in bed half asleep. I tied it and handed it back.
Where did I learn such a skill? Where any self-respecting girl learns such skills - from my dad. Back in high school wearing a tie with a boxy jacket was the thing - sort of Annie Hall - and I asked my dad to show me how to tie one properly. He showed me two different ways. I probably also borrowed the tie from him. He wasn't wearing them, but he had a bunch.
My husband doesn't wear ties, either. They strangle him. He wore one for our wedding and again for the awards banquet during the Atlanta trip. He told me he must really love me in order to put up with the noose, although I didn't make it a requirement for the Atlanta trip. He said if I bury him in a tie, he'll come back to haunt me. I don't intend to, so no worries there.
This all reminds me of a post I read on the Dangerous Intersection blog yesterday. Erich Vieth recommends that men all over America should get together and liberate themselves from neckties by having a tie-burning event. Hey, go for it. Most of us ladies gave up our girdles ages ago. (Thank God!)
Where did I learn such a skill? Where any self-respecting girl learns such skills - from my dad. Back in high school wearing a tie with a boxy jacket was the thing - sort of Annie Hall - and I asked my dad to show me how to tie one properly. He showed me two different ways. I probably also borrowed the tie from him. He wasn't wearing them, but he had a bunch.
My husband doesn't wear ties, either. They strangle him. He wore one for our wedding and again for the awards banquet during the Atlanta trip. He told me he must really love me in order to put up with the noose, although I didn't make it a requirement for the Atlanta trip. He said if I bury him in a tie, he'll come back to haunt me. I don't intend to, so no worries there.
This all reminds me of a post I read on the Dangerous Intersection blog yesterday. Erich Vieth recommends that men all over America should get together and liberate themselves from neckties by having a tie-burning event. Hey, go for it. Most of us ladies gave up our girdles ages ago. (Thank God!)
Labels: atlanta, dad, dangerous intersection, erich vieth, husband, liberation, neckties, wedding, young son
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Blown Away
I hate mixing post topics, but before I get down to the business at hand, I must say that it is raining here. A nice drizzly rain. After the last thunderous downpour, this is our first real all-day-gray rainy day. Amazingly, the crunchy brown grass is turning green and growing again. Doesn't take much, does it?
Okay, now that the weather is out of the way . . . .
For most of my life I've been concerned about my voice, specifically my singing voice. A couple of negative experiences while growing up have caused me to doubt the sound of my singing voice. I'm pretty sure it's crap and I won't sing in front of anyone (except babies, and periodically my kids and husband) because I'm afraid of how my voice will be received. Frankly, I don't need any more knocks where this subject is concerned. As a young adult, I wouldn't even sing alone. I sing alone now all the time (especially in the car), so I've improved on that account. Obviously God isn't offended or I would've been struck dead by now. (Don't you love how non-judgmental God is? Not like us crazy humans.) In comparison, I've had no trouble accepting my speaking voice. I used to be in speech, the competitive kind, in middle school and I placed pretty well. Also, there was no cringing going on when I spoke, so I never developed a complex about it.
Ironically, when I really started writing, I discovered that writers were very concerned about voice in their work. I was too. How do you create a distinctive writing voice such that others know your work upon reading it? My writing voice has become pretty clear over the years. With that, I've branched into attempting other sorts of effects with my writing. I've tried writing about myself in third-person, which is a kick. I've tried poetry and humor. I've tried using fiction techniques (storytelling and description) in nonfiction. I've invented new words. One thing I'm still working on is how to use words in a musical way. How to write as though the words can be sung.
Having not been encouraged to be musical while growing up, the whole music thing is foreign to me. Well, not completely foreign, but it's not second nature. (I had a family full of crazy artists, not musicians, so art was encouraged up to my eyeballs, which leaves me grateful beyond belief.) So then, I've been puzzling about how to pair music with lyrics. (One of my writers group buddies thinks I'm over-thinking this, and he's probably right.)
My husband is a musical genius, although he won't agree with me on this. He has dabbled with guitar since he was a teenager and can pick out many songs by ear. He can also compose amazing riffs and hooks on guitar. He does this as a hobby, as relaxation, so it can take him a long time to develop a song. He's been working on one for the past few months, refining and adding to it, and I've been listening to him play wondering how to write lyrics for the song. It's catchy and very pretty, sounding like a love song of sorts, but with a hint of longing. As I was listening yesterday, suddenly the words "emerald heart" came into my head, followed by several other lines as the chorus. I was blown away. Holy cow! My first lyrics to an actual song! Whoop! Whoop!
(Okay, maybe not my first. I made up a song I'd sing to Youngest Son when he was a baby. I'd hold him up facing the mirror after his bath and sing something with the words bouncing, baby, boy, bubbles, and bath, but, Lord help me, I can't for the life of me remember the thing. I also once wrote a song - music and lyrics - while dreaming, but it was gone when I woke.)
I'm so excited! My first lyrics that I've written down and remember. Now I've just got to get beyond one stanza.
Okay, now that the weather is out of the way . . . .
For most of my life I've been concerned about my voice, specifically my singing voice. A couple of negative experiences while growing up have caused me to doubt the sound of my singing voice. I'm pretty sure it's crap and I won't sing in front of anyone (except babies, and periodically my kids and husband) because I'm afraid of how my voice will be received. Frankly, I don't need any more knocks where this subject is concerned. As a young adult, I wouldn't even sing alone. I sing alone now all the time (especially in the car), so I've improved on that account. Obviously God isn't offended or I would've been struck dead by now. (Don't you love how non-judgmental God is? Not like us crazy humans.) In comparison, I've had no trouble accepting my speaking voice. I used to be in speech, the competitive kind, in middle school and I placed pretty well. Also, there was no cringing going on when I spoke, so I never developed a complex about it.
Ironically, when I really started writing, I discovered that writers were very concerned about voice in their work. I was too. How do you create a distinctive writing voice such that others know your work upon reading it? My writing voice has become pretty clear over the years. With that, I've branched into attempting other sorts of effects with my writing. I've tried writing about myself in third-person, which is a kick. I've tried poetry and humor. I've tried using fiction techniques (storytelling and description) in nonfiction. I've invented new words. One thing I'm still working on is how to use words in a musical way. How to write as though the words can be sung.
Having not been encouraged to be musical while growing up, the whole music thing is foreign to me. Well, not completely foreign, but it's not second nature. (I had a family full of crazy artists, not musicians, so art was encouraged up to my eyeballs, which leaves me grateful beyond belief.) So then, I've been puzzling about how to pair music with lyrics. (One of my writers group buddies thinks I'm over-thinking this, and he's probably right.)
My husband is a musical genius, although he won't agree with me on this. He has dabbled with guitar since he was a teenager and can pick out many songs by ear. He can also compose amazing riffs and hooks on guitar. He does this as a hobby, as relaxation, so it can take him a long time to develop a song. He's been working on one for the past few months, refining and adding to it, and I've been listening to him play wondering how to write lyrics for the song. It's catchy and very pretty, sounding like a love song of sorts, but with a hint of longing. As I was listening yesterday, suddenly the words "emerald heart" came into my head, followed by several other lines as the chorus. I was blown away. Holy cow! My first lyrics to an actual song! Whoop! Whoop!
(Okay, maybe not my first. I made up a song I'd sing to Youngest Son when he was a baby. I'd hold him up facing the mirror after his bath and sing something with the words bouncing, baby, boy, bubbles, and bath, but, Lord help me, I can't for the life of me remember the thing. I also once wrote a song - music and lyrics - while dreaming, but it was gone when I woke.)
I'm so excited! My first lyrics that I've written down and remember. Now I've just got to get beyond one stanza.
Labels: children, husband, lyrics, minnesota, music, rain, songs, voice, weather, writing, young son
Sunday, August 12, 2007
All the Rage
Stephanie Meyer's Twight series is all the rage. I should know, my children and their friends are reading the books and twittering on about this vampire romance. Daughter's friends introduced her to the first book, "Twilight." The second book in the series is "New Moon," and the third, "Eclipse," was just released. On Friday, Daughter's friend (and said friend's mommy) took her to a book signing in Woodbury, Minnesota. There were over 500 people there and Stephanie was willing to sign as many copies of her books as people wanted. Daughter introduced Young Son to the books and he couldn't stand that she and her friends kept talking about them without him having read them. So he set about reading "Twilight," quickly taking in a couple of hundred pages in a couple of days. This is quite something for Young Son because he prefers books with images and romance is just yuck. He decided he wanted a signed copy of "Eclipse," too. Daughter took her copy and his (both purchased by Daughter's friend's mommy) and had them signed. If I ever get time, I'll have to see what all the fuss is about.
Labels: books, daughter, reading, stephanie meyer, twilight, young son
Sunday, August 05, 2007
A Mom's Gotta Do What a Mom's Gotta Do
This morning I wandered up to Young Son's room, ostensibly to retrieve his dirty laundry. Several hours later, I finally brought the laundry down to the basement and threw it in the washing machine.
I got sidetracked, waylaid by the maid that lives inside my body. Flotsam and jetsam builds up in Young Son's room until I simply can't stand it anymore. He is a collector from the word go, which doesn't help in keeping his room tidy. There's too much stuff to put in too little space - and he's got the biggest bedroom in the house. Understand that I was only going to neaten things up a bit, make sure the garbage was thrown away, sweep around the edges. Nothing too serious. Hah! Young Son's room was repainted a year or two ago, but we still hadn't hung any art on the walls. That changed today. He loves all things Asian, so we hung his giant Asian fan, several Asian calendars, his "Wisdom" brush painting picture, and his gentle orange Asian field hat. They look fabulous against the Zen Mist (light yellow-green) walls. There's another picture of brush painting in a black frame that we hung on his small red wall. Very cool.
In the middle of all the straightening and hanging, Daughter came into the room. She is keen on interior design and she thought the room might look better with the furniture rearranged. She drew up a sketchy floor plan and Young Son was agreeable, so the slight cleaning became a major moving project. By the time we were finished - well past lunchtime, according to my stomach - Young Son was amazed at the cleanliness and the space we had created. While I normally leave the kids' rooms in the care of my kids, sometimes a Mom's gotta do what a Mom's gotta do.
By the way, Young Son did help with all of this. While I may have a crazy maid living inside me, I don't have "Doormat" printed on my forehead.
I got sidetracked, waylaid by the maid that lives inside my body. Flotsam and jetsam builds up in Young Son's room until I simply can't stand it anymore. He is a collector from the word go, which doesn't help in keeping his room tidy. There's too much stuff to put in too little space - and he's got the biggest bedroom in the house. Understand that I was only going to neaten things up a bit, make sure the garbage was thrown away, sweep around the edges. Nothing too serious. Hah! Young Son's room was repainted a year or two ago, but we still hadn't hung any art on the walls. That changed today. He loves all things Asian, so we hung his giant Asian fan, several Asian calendars, his "Wisdom" brush painting picture, and his gentle orange Asian field hat. They look fabulous against the Zen Mist (light yellow-green) walls. There's another picture of brush painting in a black frame that we hung on his small red wall. Very cool.
In the middle of all the straightening and hanging, Daughter came into the room. She is keen on interior design and she thought the room might look better with the furniture rearranged. She drew up a sketchy floor plan and Young Son was agreeable, so the slight cleaning became a major moving project. By the time we were finished - well past lunchtime, according to my stomach - Young Son was amazed at the cleanliness and the space we had created. While I normally leave the kids' rooms in the care of my kids, sometimes a Mom's gotta do what a Mom's gotta do.
By the way, Young Son did help with all of this. While I may have a crazy maid living inside me, I don't have "Doormat" printed on my forehead.
Labels: asian art, cleaning, daughter, interior design, kids, young son
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Dump, Dump, Dump
We had rain today. Honest to goodness rain. A massive five-to-ten minute deluge. Dump, dump, dump, done. Young Son kindly ran out to the car to close my windows. He came back soaked, but nonetheless pleased with his mission.
Labels: minnesota, rain, weather, young son
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
It's a Hoot!
Young Son Number Two and I went to the library last night. While there I found a book - well, duh! - rather, an unexpected book that's an absolute riot. I was laughing so hard while reading it that I was almost crying, except that I couldn't breathe. I had to walk away periodically so that I could regain my composure and catch my breath. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time. I won't keep you in suspense any longer. This knee-slapping guffaw of a book is called "The Museum of Kitschy Stitches: A Gallery of Notorious Knits" by Stitchy McYarnpants (a.k.a. Debbie Brisson). Stitchy collects all sorts of old fiber craft patterns, and boy has she found some doozies in her collection. We've all seen them . . . those godawful knitting or crocheting patterns, many in wacky colors and acrylic fibers, that no one would be caught dead wearing. In "The Museum of Kitschy Stitches," photos of a bunch of these loud fashion don'ts are featured with Stitchy's utterly smart and wickedly funny commentary. And the hilarity doesn't end there. Stitchy has a blog!
Labels: book, crocheting, debbie brisson, fiber arts, humor, kitsch, knitting, library, stitchy mcyarnpants, young son
Monday, July 02, 2007
A Weather Update
There's a misty rain in Minnesota today. We need the rain. We've had unbelievably gorgeous weather the past couple of weeks - sunny, warm, a few humid days, but still tolerable. The grass was getting crunchy, so the rain is good. My mom said that she was told as a kid that when you look up at an oak tree in the summer, you shouldn't be able to see sky through it. This year, lots of sky can be seen through the oaks. We're wondering if it's because we're low on moisture in general, or if there's some other factor causing it.
Rain or not, my big goal for the day was to take the recycling out to the landfill. Our back porch was getting full up. With the help of my daughter and Young Son #2, we got the deed done. Such a simple thing, but such a feeling of accomplishment.
Monday is normally my writing day, and I did get a little writing done, but just a little - a few hundred words. I'm having a little trouble with direction on story nine of my series. I think it needs more thinking. I've got my main characters figured out, which is a quarter of the battle. I've got the thing started, which is another quarter. But, I don't have an idea of the ending, which is a problem because I have to get from here to . . . where? I like to have a sense of my ending, even if I veer from it by the time I'm done, because it's how I get over the hump - and there's always a hump.
Time to moodle.
Rain or not, my big goal for the day was to take the recycling out to the landfill. Our back porch was getting full up. With the help of my daughter and Young Son #2, we got the deed done. Such a simple thing, but such a feeling of accomplishment.
Monday is normally my writing day, and I did get a little writing done, but just a little - a few hundred words. I'm having a little trouble with direction on story nine of my series. I think it needs more thinking. I've got my main characters figured out, which is a quarter of the battle. I've got the thing started, which is another quarter. But, I don't have an idea of the ending, which is a problem because I have to get from here to . . . where? I like to have a sense of my ending, even if I veer from it by the time I'm done, because it's how I get over the hump - and there's always a hump.
Time to moodle.
Labels: daughter, minnesota, moodle, oak trees, rain, recycling, short story, weather, writing, young son
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Hard-Boiled Eggs
Young Son Number Two went to work with me today. He and a couple of his friends have been taking the exhibit building class the museum is offering and they're having such a blast that he and one of his buddies wanted to come back today to examine books in our library. For lunch, Young Son and I had hard-boiled eggs. I noticed that Young Son wasn't eating the yolks and I asked why. He said it's because the yolks are too dry and it's hard to breathe when eating them. Got it. That's exactly how I feel when eating the yolks. I told them they go down easier if eaten in little bites with some salt. He tried the technique and got through the yolks with nary a problem.
How many things in life are like hard-boiled eggs?
How many things in life are like hard-boiled eggs?
Labels: books, class, hard boiled eggs, library, museum, yolks, young son
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
The Mind of Young Son #2
Young Son Number Two is currently out and about with the digital camera. Flick, flick, flick. I love that thing. We can take pictures 'til our heart's content and delete with impugnity those we don't like. Over the weekend, Young Son took well over 100 photos, of which five are above. He's got several self-portraits, like the first picture above, including close-ups of his hair, his eyes, and his feet. He likes odd angles and close-ups, which give his photos an artistic quality. Note the ladder in the window well, the trees masked by the window frame, and the mixing bowl sink. As for the pants, Young Son liked the juxtapostion of the wet upper portion with the dry zip-off sections.
In an unrelated note, I just stepped outside and was hit with a gale-force wind. It's gray and cold today and I do suspect that we're in for some rain.
Labels: artistic endeavors, minnesota, photos, self-portrait, weather, young son
