that’s disgusting…can I have one, please?

The whole celebrity culture thing – I’m fascinated by, and repelled by, and yet I end up knowing about it.
—Anderson Cooper

Okay, so I just finished a mystery (which I enjoyed very much): Mansions of the Dead, by Sarah Stewart Taylor. I won’t give anything away by mentioning that mourning jewelry played an important role in the novel. That’s mourning jewelry as in jewelry made from hair. Like, dead people’s hair. I know, right?

So, as I read about this jewelry I had two equal reactions:

  1. Yuck
  2. I want one

Crazy, right? It’s inexplicable…I am both repelled and fascinated. I mentioned this to my husband who gave me one of his you-have-completely-lost-your-mind (again) looks. I believe he comes down pretty firmly on the repelled side of this equation.

To try to nip this new obsession interest in the bud, I ordered an antique carved jet necklace (non-hairy mourning jewelry) on ebay, which is pretty cool, really. But, I’ll be honest, I don’t know if it’s going to be enough. I’m a little worried it’s going to be like when I want a cookie, but I eat an apple because I know it’s a better choice, but then I end up eating the cookie later anyway because…well because the apple wasn’t what I was obsessing about wanting.

Seriously, I’m maybe the least gothy person I know…Doris Day rather than Helena Boham Carter. And I’m not really into collecting things either. The only thing I have a lot of is books, and they’re not rare books or anything; they’re just ones I’ve read or plan to read. So, would I actually wear something that has some dead nineteenth century person’s hair in it? Could I? I will say it would be quite the conversation starter…or possibly ender.

I must confess…lately, I’m starting to worry that as I get older my light quirkiness just might condense into a dark, sticky fruitcake-lady battiness.  Sigh.



Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more. It turns denial into acceptance, chaos to order, confusion to clarity. It can turn a meal into a feast, a house into a home, a stranger into a friend. 

— Melody Beattie

The following video is a little long. (it’s a TED talk, if you haven’t discovered these–you need to!) But it’s worth it, IMO. Happy Thanksgiving, my friends.

Book and Movie Recommendation

Last week I read a good book and watched a good movie. Both were a little odd and both were totally worth it.

The Memory of Running, a novel by Ron McLarty, was recommended to me as something to read to see how to fold together a present day story with a backstory. So, I started the book to learn something, and I finished the book because it was wonderful. Read it. You’ll like it.

Saturday night I watched a movie on Apple TV (yes my Saturday nights are very exciting). It was called Terri–an oddball indie film with Jacob Wysocki and John C. Riley. God I love a film full of misfits and weirdos (okay, no comments.)  Anyway, watch it. You’ll like it.

Both were sweet (but never sappy) and left me with something to think about. And I’m not talking about how to handle backstory in a novel. No, I’m talking about regular life. I will never understand how people can say that fiction isn’t real.

crazy week = crappy post

“If I were dropped out of a plane into the ocean and told the nearest land was a thousand miles away, I’d still swim. And I’d despise the one who gave up.”
Abraham Maslow

I’ve been dropped in a metaphorical ocean this week and am paddling along to keep up–so no post today.  If you use social media and haven’t seen this next video, take a look. It made me laugh.

R and R and Wow

I had a relaxing weekend in Paradise Valley, AZ. Ahhh…

Now it’s time for work and laundry and picking a dog up from the vet. Sigh…

Anyway, one of the mornings when I called down for room-service coffee…Put me up in a nice hotel and I immediately start doing things like eating $7 mini-cans of Pringles from the mini-bar and ordering shit from room-service. It’s disgusting….room service was busy and their machine picked up and put me on hold. In my sleep addled state I thought they said that a talent would be with me shortly.

I turned to hubby and said, “Is it possible they just told me that a talent would be with me shortly?”

“An agent, maybe?” he replied.

“But I could have sworn they said…” Then someone picked up and the promise of caffeine drove the thought out of my mind. Flash forward to the morning we’re leaving. I’m walking through the hotel dragging my luggage behind and I notice a sign on a door that reads Talents Only.

God, I was so pissed that I’d missed an opportunity to laugh about that all weekend. Could I have gotten that little fella from room-service to juggle those teensy jars of jam? And how come I’m not called a talent where I work? I’m just an employee. Next grant proposal I write, I think I’ll say our organization has 17 full-time talents and 31 part-time talents (or however many talents we currently employ–it varies). That’s going to get the grantors wondering….

And just because this is so freakin’ cute it almost hurts:

synopsis hell

If you’re going through hell, keep going.


So, it’s come to this. Write a crappy first draft (check). Rewrite parts of book (check). Rewrite other parts of book (check). Change back parts of book to how they were before (you get the idea).

And, although there’s still some minor tweaking of the novel going on, I’ve reached that point I’ve been dreading: it’s synopsis time. Needing to write a synopsis totally sucks ass, because I have some synopsis-writing disability that makes anything I attempt to synopsize sound like complete poo. If I wrote a synopsis of some great book–like a Faulkner novel–my synopsis would make that book seem as if it were long-winded, underpunctuated, impossible to understand…

Oooh wait…bad example.

Sigh. This cat must need to write one too…