ICE STORM

Not sure whether to be glad we're iced in or not. While I wouldn't have minded all snow (which would have translated into 66-12 inches, Mother Nature decided to once again treat us to a variety of events ranging from snow, to sleet (about 5:00 this morning) to freezing rain. The temps hovering right at freezing cause the moisture to arrive as rain then freeze at the ground. Now it's thawing somewhat, leaving a slushy mess which is supposed to be followed by snow. YUCK! I think of all those individuals trying to get home for Christmas and other winter holidays and celebrations and my heart goes out to them. On the plus side, being "weathered in" always gives rise to the creative muses and so I'll probably work on my much delayed "REUBEN" a wip in progress that even I weary of at times. (My illustrative style changed after I was well into it, preferring now watercolor over layered colored pencil, but will continue in the latter venue on this project.)
I'll try to ignore, at least for the time being, the drier buzzer going off, or the sound of the salt truck. And transport myself to pre-war Germany for some artwork.

WAITING

I'm not the most patient person and never more so than waiting to hear from an editor. And it's not unsual to have a six month wait for an answer. Even then, one should expect to do some rewrites.
I know the rule of thumb is to have seven (yes, seven!) things out there at all times.
I'm sure the suspense of wondering who is reading what and what do they think of it would render me completely helpless. After all, how many hours can one reasonably spend in front of a screen that isn't platinum?
It's a heady thing to have your manuscript requested. You begin to fly around wondering what to wear, what time he'll pick you up, (oops no, that's high school prom). You begin to fly around wondering how you'll cast your leading character when Hollywood comes calling. Then you weakly crawl to the publisher's site and hesitantly peel back the covers of what he already deemed publishable. Oh, no, I'm not nearly edgy enough for the YA market. Oh, God!, that character has my character's voice! Rendering my character now speechless.
I received advice a long time ago; tell your story. Have engaging realistic characters, Then worry about marketing. Having done that, move to the next project. OK. done. Excuse me while I check my email.

ALL SOUL'S DAY

After the hype of Halloween and before the hype of Election Day, sits a quiet barely acknowledged day of All Soul's. Traditionally a day of prayers for the dead, it leaves me reflective on individuals who are dearly departed and recently departed. People I thought would be around forever, or, at least until I got around to calling, going to lunch, writing. But they weren't. Three dear friends have passed since August. I have no doubt they're around, chuckling at my stupidity, encouraging me in moments of doubt, and, I hope, forgiving my moments of nastiness, indifference or just plain neglect. Did I dismiss them when I heard they had Alzheimers, figuring they wouldn't know who I was anyway? Did I avoid them when the terrible C word came up, wondering what I'd say? Was I offended when, in a senior moment, they forgot my name or lost my number? Whatever the reason, I'm sure I could have done better. So before the Christmas season is upon us, that's my goal. To do better.

Beautiful Day

I'm trying to enjoy the wonderful fall weather before either rain or snow comes. Today is so gorgeous and cool enough for a good walk. So many birds in the yard (my mom always saw that as a sign of impending doom_ hope that's a wive's tale; don't want anything to mar this great day and the fact that Im at least temporarily remitting.
Great inspiration for artwork. I've had some terrific assignments that lend themselve to my love of history (or at the very least, nostalgia). Working on a conestoga wagon, draft horses in traces, ah, where do all those lines go, LOL! But for the next 40 minutes, I'm going to indulge and get a nice long walk.

Happy New Year

Happy Holidays to all those who celebrate and those who love those who celebrate. May you be inscribed for the New Year.

This Mother's Day

It was an innocent enough search. I remembered a dear friend with whom I'd recently reconnected by way of the internet. I wanted to send her a birthday card, her birthday falling on Mother's Day this year. What I encountered saddened me beyond belief. Her 17 year old son had succumbed to neuroblastoma, a form of children's cancer, this past April. How could I not send condolences, even though time and space had separated us. I found a lovely card, indicative of her spiritual persuasion and emailed it to her. We exchanged a number of emails promising to keep in better touch and I felt I'd regained a friend from my past.
I remember two things about my friend Sue, from our earlier days. She was wonderful around kids, always able to approach them at there level (something I struggled with). And she loved tea and plants. I was always assured that the teapot would be boiling when I went to her apartment. And one birthday of mine, she took me plant shopping; the gift including her gift of time patiently showing me the ins and outs of keeping a plant from becoming "root-bound" as well as a book for the "purple thumb".
I will contemplate those memories this mother's day. I will think of those
mom's whose memories are painful or non-existent. I will hold my nearly grown children a little closer and pray for those mom's whose children are out of reach. And I will remember teachers and other adults who didn't physically bear children that non-the less were capable of mothering over the years.
Happy Mother's Day, everyone!

I HATE SPRING

Doesn't that sound terrible. Not that winter wasn't long enough, cold enough or snowy enough (it never is for me, I love winter! and notoriously hunker down like a well-cared for groundhog.
But every spring there's a disaster, either a stray baby bunny, or a bird that sluggishly forgot to fly in the face of disaster (everything from tumbling prematurely from it's nest to facing up to the neighborhood cats.)
Two nights ago my vegging in from of IDOL was interrupted by what I though was a loud quacking sound. It didn't appear to come closer or move at all for that matter.
"Keep Lily in," I yelled not wanted to complicate matters by adding a nutty dalmation to what was CERTAINLY an injured duck.
I looked behind me; my daughters had followed me with flashlights (bless them, if you announce something loud enough you really can call out the reserves, even on American Idol night!)
"The sound isn't moving,"my youngest added moving the flashlight over the ground from where the sound came. "Oh, no," she murmured scrambling over the chicken wire fence that serves as property boundery all around us.
"There's a dog involved."
"Great," said my eldest. "You're going to be defending an injured duck against a dog?"
My youngest, now in our neighbors pitchblack heavily wooded yard swiftly spanning light over the ground. "I don't see the duck"
"Well what do you see," I called back, now heavily suspicious that we were in proverbial, uh, "wild goose chase".
"Hang on," she called back. "A dog. A little orange dog tied up out here"
"Where's the duck?" my eldest and I called back.
"Do you still hear quacking?"
"Yes, we do!"
"Well guess what. That's the sound this dog makes."
Her beam of light returned to the fence, where she scrambled over as deftly as before, muttering something about "better not tear my last pair of clean jeans."
We all gladly, plowed back into the house for the last five minutes of Idol.

I hate spring.

THREE DOPEY BROTHERS ON A TRAIN

It followed a blizzard, day of watching the weather, listening to the weather, phone calls about University being closed and did we know. It didn't matter, in 8" of snow and the expressway closed because of jack-knifed trailers, who was going to go anyway?
So, Tuesday, which should have been snuggly, cuddly, hunker down with artwork, didn't happen.
Then Wednesday, ah, beautiful sun making Tuesday's snow sparkle. Today we hunker. Uh uh. Son lost/quit job because Tuesday's snow. Falls asleep late afternoon. Sure I'll eat with you guys, as soon as I wake up. Daughter with 5-8:00 class so dinner about 8:00 is fine. We'll dine. Pretend we're aristocrats (do they still dine at 8:00)Chelsea Clinton spoke at my daughter's college, I should ask her LOL. Think security would let me close enough to ask what time aristocrats eat?
9:00 son wakes up, hasn't eaten but would my oldest daughter go with him to Wal-Mart. At 9:00, I ask? It's bedtime? I guess only for people who have to go to school or work. Or who were up the previous day worrying about the snow for the people who quit/lost their jobs.
They return with movie, about 4 goofy brothers on a train, all after some exotic girl who cries a lot. They haven't spoken in a year, I don't know why and by the end of the movie truly didn't care, but wondered why Bill Murray had a cameo shot in the beginning and never returned. I might have liked the movie better, if I hadn't wondered why Bill Murray, dressed in 30's something clothing was running for the train. The train got lost somewhere. Part of the dopey brothers' itinerary was to locate their mother in a convent at the foot of the Himalayas. Someone mentioned Key Lime pie at this moment, jerking me to partial awakeness, (that along with my educated daughter asking if the Himalayas are in the states) and of course I needed a piece to bring me to full awakeness since the quest for the mother in the convent didn't quite do it.
Then good night everyone, I'm leaving, and son, with his movie, departs for his home a full two blocks away (and mother telling him to drive carefully and put his car in the garage) It might snow.