Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part One

I just saw the latest Harry Potter movie in a second-run pub theater.  Great company, good food, but the movie didn't work very well for me.  I'd read a little about pacing issues, so I didn't go in with high expectations.  Even with that in mind, though, I had serious trouble with the way the story moved.  The elements were mostly there--fine actors, beautiful special effects that didn't distract from the story, etc.  But I kept wondering what happened to the dialogue, to the ideas, and most of all, to the charm.

I was charmed by the books, and I was charmed by many of the movies.  I don't think it was a case of no-surprises.  I enjoyed watching the story I knew come to life on the big screen in the other Harry Potter movies, as well as other movie-from-book films I'd seen.  But life is precisely what was missing here, at least for me.  

For example, I delighted in the derigible plums.  At that point I reveled in that little taste of what had been omnipresent in the books and most of the other films--the color, the environment, the quirky things that belonged there despite their often unusual character, and the sometimes awe-inspiring beauty.  These things convinced me of the existence of another world as marvelous and complex as the real one we live in every day.  I had little to nothing except those plums to convince me of another world this time.

There's an important lesson here for storytellers everywhere.  The 'telling' details often mentioned in writing courses and critiques and in criticism are really important.  They ought to be called the 'showing' details, though.  Because they show us so much, without saying a word.

Bravo to actors, special effects folks, camera men, makeup artists, costumers ... and bravo to the writers, director, producer, etc. for all the hard work, but alas, I can't recommend this movie, and I'm likely to buy it only on discount in order to complete the set after the next movie has come out, assuming this next, and last, movie doesn't do the same or worse as its brother.

Would You Like Some Help Out?

Sorting through paperwork.  Zzzzzzz ...

Today I had a customer buy a bunch of stuff ...

"I'm going to need help to carry this out," she said.

"Yes ma'am.  There's C right now."  C ambled over.  "C will help you carry this stuff out."

"I want those things from outside.  I'll need help to carry that."

"Yes ma'am.  C will take care of that as soon as she takes this out for you." 

"Where is that help you called for?  I need help carrying this."

"She's right here, ma'am."

She looks right at C.  "Can you get someone to help me with the things outside?" she asked C.

"I can take care of that," C said.

"Thank you.  Can you carry this?"

C accepted the thingy.  "Where is your car?"

"First I need help with those things outside."

Realizing I'm spinning my wheels ...  "C can take care of that once you're out there."

"Where is she?"

"She's right there."  C already had the one thing that needed to be carried and had started to make for the door.  "She has your things, and she can carry the rest to your car."

"Yes, but I need help with those things outside."

"Yes, ma'am, C can do that.  She's on her way now."  C, meanwhile, edged closer toward the exit door.

"But I need help carrying those things outside."

headdesk

I noticed C had given up edging and had bolted outside.  "She'll meet you outside."

"Shouldn't she go out this way?  It's closer."  She headed for the entry door.

"If you'd like to, you can go out that way."  Even though it's narrow, awkward, and the door opens the wrong way because it's the entry door.

The customer proceeded to wrestle her way out the 'closer' way, hauling the cart along with her.  She expended so much effort it's a wonder she didn't hurt herself.  

Closer is not always easier.

And I thought that was the end of it.

But guess what?  She came back.

I saw her park in the fire lane.  She got out of the car and started to wrestle about half the things she'd just bought less than an hour before.  I went over and held the door, as she had things well in hand.  You know, the things she needed help carrying out before.

"I need to return these."

Mmm hmm.  "Was there anything wrong with them?"  I carefully accepted them.

"They're not what I wanted."

headdesk

I started filling out the forms.

"Can you just put this back on my card?" she asked, setting her credit card on the counter.

"Certainly.  I just need your help to fill out this form and the cashier can take care of you."

"I'm illegally parked."

Yes, we know.

"Will it take long?" she added.

"Not long.  Hopefully it'll be fine.  We're not responsible for the parking per se.  As long as a fire marshal or policeman doesn't see, I think you'll be okay.  If you're worried about it, you're welcome to move your car.  I can work on this return in the meantime."  You define entitlement, madam.  What makes you so special that you can park in the fire lane rather than a handicapped spot?  Oh, and fyi, I have a customer who really ought to be in a wheelchair who parks in a normal parking spot and painfully, slowly, makes himself walk to the store and shops all by himself.  Granted, you don't have to do the same thing he does to prove anything to anyone, but would you mind not parking in the fire lane?  Please?  Do you think you can achieve that?  Is it within your ability, considering that you walk without the cane that you tote around and that you carried all that stuff you made C carry out for you all by yourself?

Meanwhile, I scribbled on the form with a customer-service-smile on my face.

"My daughter-in-law is insufferable," she told me.  "She's such a snob.  Do you know what she said to me?"

I had to admit to myself that I was interested in an awful, uncivilized way.  "What did she say?"  I was also a little worried that she had taken exception to the manner in which I suggested that it's okay to park in the fire lane (sort of) and will now tell me how I, er, I mean how her daughter-in-law is terribly snobby about people who do that.

She went into detail about how she was invited to a party, not by the snobby DIL but by her brother, who likes her, no, adores her, and how it was on a house boat.  And then she told me about how the handicapped parking was too far away from the dock and she would have never made it, so she parked illegally.

Meanwhile, I handed her the form and had her fill out the proper lines. She stopped the narration briefly to ask me what her address is.

I'm not making this up.

So she arrived at the party and mentioned that she hoped the police wouldn't ticket her.  And her (apparently) snobby DIL told her not to worry, that they own all the surrounding land.

Either she has just equated me to being snobby because I'd figured the chances were low that she'd get a (well-deserved) ticket just like her DIL did, or I've missed the point.  Entirely.

"I can't stand her," the woman added.

I'm sure she's not terribly fond of you either.

"I'm sorry," I told her.  I couldn't think of anything else to say.  "You're all set.  Thank you for coming in."

I'm done ranting now.  Vent over.

I really like most people, and I enjoy my job, even when I have challenging customers.  Sometimes I enjoy my work especially when there's a challenge, because often I can fix things and make everything better.  Sometimes, though, things bug me, not because they're not fixable but because they're easily fixable only if the person could just see themselves clearly.  The problem wasn't so much the carry out or the DIL.  This customer got in her own way and it obviously made everyone around her crazy.  I only had to work with her for about twenty minutes.  What would it be like to be related to her, to associate with her all the time?

At least I get paid to help her.  Maybe she just had an off day.  We all have those.  But damn ....

Writing as Therapy

I believed, and still partially believe, that writing for entertainment shouldn't be mixed with writing for therapy.  I'm slowly changing my mind.

I wrote about what happened with my birds during a marathon writing session late the night before last.  It wasn't easy.  I was still grieving.  I think, though, that what came out was some pretty powerful stuff.  

Part of me wants to defend my original position, or parts of it, by saying that the entertainment portion of writing gets left behind when a person turns their writing into a pulpit, or a confessional, or whatever.  But I should have been the last person to say such a thing.  After all, I'm one of those sad cases that turns to the advice column in the newspaper.  I'm entertained, sometimes enthralled, sometimes appalled by the drama.  

And when I griped about one of my favorite authors turning his fantasy series into a venue in which he explored his divorce, what I ought to have realized was that although it wasn't my thing, it may well have been great for someone else.  Maybe there were heaps of people in the midst of ugly divorces that liked the way the series went.  Since my gripe about that series, my favorite example of how not to include your life experience in your writing, turns out not to be valid, I can't really hold any kind of writing-as-therapy work as a mistake.

I do think that it makes the writer vulnerable.  Sometimes opening the soul publicly can be good and fine thing, but it's not something I could undertake lightly.  Rape victims who write rape scenes ... what would criticism of that book, especially that scene, do?  On the other hand, writing about trauma might help people own it.  I know I felt better after I wrote.  It might even help someone else in a similar situation feel better too.  

So maybe it just boils down to this:  recognize the level of exposure, and remember that once the story is published, it really isn't the author's anymore.  It belongs to the reader.  If the story is too personal to be given to someone else to do with whatever they want to do ... then maybe it needs to remain private.

There's definitely a skill to it, though.  I've heard that editors and agents dread 'divorce novels.'  That's just a rumor, but I do think that it's a valid caution.  In order for a story to be emotionally satisfying for the reader, they have to be allowed to connect.  I think that's why the fantasy series ultimately failed for me.  The author wrote it in the midst of something I had never experienced, and interjected all kinds of stuff from his life I couldn't identify with.  If he'd set me up from the beginning, maybe it would have been brilliant.  But I came in at the middle, or maybe even toward the end of his personal drama, and he poured out those personal feelings in the middle of a series to boot.  With no groundwork, with nothing explained, all I knew was that the characters I'd loved started to go crazy for no apparent reason.  

I think it would be easy to over-think and doubt and all that--and that can destroy a story too.  So I've thought about it, and in time I'll internalize it into my writing.  The one thing I hope I won't do is start worrying about it every time I sit to type.  In the end, it's all about the story, whether its the story of my dreams, or the story of my life.  I hope both will be rich and wonderful things.

Sometimes Farming Hurts. A lot.

We are down to two chickens:  Beatrice and the Wyandotte rooster, who now needs a name because we'll be keeping him.

A coyote, we're pretty sure, did the deed.

I've learned how to clip wings.  Our chickens are restricted to the lower goat pasture until further notice.  I hope the coyotes don't dig their way in.  

This has been a really awful day.  Tomorrow will be better.  My DH will be coming home.

The Chase Saga continues

Funny Boy thing said today about a lying cowardly character on tv: "He's not manly enough to be a weasel. He's a marmoset."

And now for our apparently regular programme: More stuff about Chase.

Turns out, after talking with the Humane Society, that we're within our rights to claim the dog after 30 days because she's never been licensed, microchipped, or otherwise officially owned by the so-called owner. In order to do so we must microchip her, register the microchip, and license her. Easy peasy. 

It comes down to this. We've reasonably tried to contact the owner, we have witnesses (our neighbors) who'd be willing to testify she's been in our possession this whole time, she's been to the vet the previous time she was lost by this same owner so there's a physical record there ... We can easily prove abandonment, not just once but twice. Sobering, isn't it? Think you 'own' your dog or cat? If your pet has been missing for over 30 days, and there's nothing to prove your ownership if you locate that animal, you may be out of luck. So, seriously, microchip your animals and license them. Today. And don't rely on the goodwill of neighbors to basically babysit your animal for free while you're on vacation or working out of the state/country/whatever. Show some basic effort to compensate them for food and care, even if it's a token thing like a card with a heart drawn on it. Otherwise, if it happens again as it did in this case, the people who are once again stuck with 'your' unlicensed, un-microchipped dog may not be inclined to give it back. And they won't be required to.

When we lost Brian, he'd been missing for weeks (I think it was three) before the extremely awesome people down the hill from us saw a sign posted at the vet. They kindly contacted us. At that point they'd fed him, sheltered him, loved him ... and they gave him back to us without even a thought to keeping him. (Well, the boys were really disappointed and whined a bit ...) I gave the family a huge gift basket filled with about $100 worth of stuff as a thank you, and still felt that it was inadequate thanks to Mary and her boys. Thanks (again) guys for the return of our dog, and for taking such awesome care of him.

You can bet that if Brian ran off again, not only would we check there first, but we'd do it within 24 hours. And if they called us, we'd answer within 24 hours.

The first time we had Chase/Decker, the owner showed up after over a month, and I never even got a card or a follow-up thank you call. Not cool, considering the dog would have wound up in the shelter, or shot, or runover and the owners would have never known about it, never mind gotten their dog back. And now Chase has been with us for almost a month again and we've been calling the owner ... with no answer. At all. No visit either. No one has given us any sign that they're looking for this animal. Does he even know his dog is gone? If he's away, who is taking care of the dog, and why aren't they frantically looking for her? If they don't care, then exactly how good of care is this dog receiving while the owner is away? Because the responsibility must ultimately fall on the owner. If the caretaker is supposed to take the blame for the first lack of care, then that caretaker shouldn't be taking care of the dog a second time.

Oops, that came out kinda ranty. Nonetheless, I'm not feeling very inclined to honor his 'ownership' at this point, should he show up again, which I'm beginning to doubt he will. Maybe it wasn't even his dog in the first place. Maybe he mistook her for his dog. After all, 'Decker' is not really a girly name (but I guess Chase isn't all that feminine either ...) Maybe he's embarrassed to have taken this strange dog home to his kids (who'd seen her when they passed our place on the bus--that's how he found her in the first place) and then they said 'But daa-aad, this isn't our dog! Our dog was a boy and didn't pee himself when we petted him!' I'd hate to think he'd just turn her loose again in that circumstance, instead of bringing her home to us.

I dunno. It's not an easy thing for me to claim her, despite my bold words. I assume that dog owners love their pets and I wouldn't want to separate a beloved pet from her owner just because of some rule of thumb (it's not a statute as far as I know) and the fact that the owner can't prove ownership (which, btw, we could have with Brian and all our pets because they're all microchipped--I'm thankful to say.) But I'm leaning that direction because I'm just not seeing the love here. I'm seeing a big, fat, nothing. There could be love, unseen love, that will manifest sometime soon. It just seems less and less likely as the days wear on.

In the meantime Chase is healthy and happy. That's the important thing, at least to those of us who care about her. She's an awesome dog. She could be an incredible dog, with love and much-needed socializing and training. I bought her a collar and leash the first time round. I have to admit I get a little thrill thinking that hey, maybe we'll get to use them as her forever owners sometime soon.

What do you guys think? Does the owner, who told my DH that he works out of town quite a bit, need more time? What would you do?

Animals, Customers and Other Stuff

@ Papa's Ice Cream, drinking peppermint/spearmint tea with my DH. Love.

Guess who's back? Chase/Decker.

I've been reluctant to mention this because it's a sticky situation. We've been calling the owner and have had no response for over two weeks, maybe three, even four--I haven't been keeping track, honestly. We've left our phone number on an answering machine. Nothing. Nada.

I've been reading statutes for our state and the closest thing I can find about this is that if an animal is deliberately left with you, 15 days after the first notice to the owner to claim the animal, the animal is considered abandoned. There's nothing about found animals that you know who the owner is (vaguely) and can't get hold of them.

So we're stuck in this awful limbo. Can we adopt her? What's the deal? I'll be calling the humane society about this. Maybe they'll be able to shed some light on it.

Meanwhile--

We've got our first blue egg! Yay!

The hen (I'm not sure which one did the deed yet but I suspect Beatrice, our blonde) actually produced a beautiful hybrid between a light brown egg and a blue one. It's also big--almost as large as a store bought extra-large egg. I have pix but they're not on my machine yet.

I'm soooo happeeeeeeey!

I haven't done a retail story in a while. There's a reason for this--I'm putting together a financial guide book from the retail employee's pov, and so most of my material is going into that lately. But I'll start posting those again soon just because a lot of them are repeats as far as the book is concerned and some of them aren't really related to financial sanity anyway, or are just common sense. I will, right now, post a free sample in the way of a super-short chapter (assuming that it doesn't get cut in an edit.) It goes something like this:

Under the Influence

Don't shop drunk. Or high. Think about all the stupid things that inebriated people do--and by people I mean you. I know that you pretend that you aren't like everyone else and you're special and totally cool when you're drunk, etc. but let's be real. Add the expenditure of money to the stupidity of public inebriation. And the beauty part? It's all on camera. Just think. You could be on YouTube buying that stuff (and paying for stuff you broke and the part where you flirted with me) and then tada! you get to be on YouTube the next day returning it. I would never post such a humiliating moment in someone's life, but I have coworkers.

They have a darker sense of humor than I do.

On the other hand, if you're shopping high you're probably driving high, and if death and/or jail doesn't stop you, embarrassment probably won't either. Disregard. I don't mind.

Just think, you could be like the guy who staggered in the other day. He took one of our plastic-encased signs and hung it from the counter by its feet. "Wow, look at that!" he said.

"That's impressive," I assured him.

"You're always so nice," he said, swaying.

In your case, because I have to be, dude. "I'm glad," I told him. "I like our customers to be happy."

"Well I'm very happy," he slurred. I thought he looked like he would puke any second.

"Can I help you with something?" I asked.

He stared blankly at me for a moment. "Do you sell ... stuff here?"

Why yes, yes we do. We're a store. We sell stuff. "What are you looking for?"

He stared at me for a moment longer, then walked through the swing door. On the second try.

Sad case. I wonder what he bought. I'm sure he wonders too. But that's cool. It probably didn't hurt his beer budget.

Next time it'll be you, and you're gonna be awesome. The Numa Numa Dance guy and whoever posts that video are gonna be like this. Maybe, if you have the means, you can sue like the Star Wars kid's family ... but that video will never go away, and neither will your fame.

Writing in a Weird, Unsafe World

I'z in ur library, on ur internets ...

I'm gradually getting back to actual writing. Scheduling around work is tough, but it's gotta get done. Working retail is paying (some) bills but it's not going to cut it long term, at least not until the mortgage is paid off and that's far enough away that I only see the little bitty flag on the topmost mast of the Ship of Yay We're Paid Off.

So I have to keep writing. Have to. Not to make it big, but to survive doing the job I love. Which, btw, I have a minor rant here. For those of you waiting for Obamacare or something to save you ... don't. Don't wait. Even if a healthcare rescue train arrives sometime soon, you can't count on the government (and I mean any government) to save you. You gotta save yourself, and save each other. Worry about the details later. I have a good friend who almost died, went to the hospital even though the family couldn't afford it, and lived. They'll work out the details as best they can. Whatever they have to do, it's a darn sight better than funeral arrangements. Just saying.

Moving on now. Take care of yourselves and each other out there.

I've also been producing ebook covers. I'm getting better, I think. Hope. Maybe. I'm learning new tricks every day. I'm also learning to keep mucking about until the visual response is Yeah! instead of that'll do. At times it's hard to tell a Yeah! from a breakthrough. When I make a design breakthrough it's so much better than the previous that it can feel like a Yeah! So I'm still working, still striving, still learning. Like every other skill, it takes time, effort and education to getcha where you're going.

House of Goats is about as good as I can make it. Only a real editor can make a difference now. Going through it one more time made me feel more confident about it, but honestly, it was all a hindbrain ploy. As long as I was looking over the manuscript, I didn't have to deal with the cover letter.

The anti-marketing hindbrain is so insidious and clever, sometimes I can't help but admire it. Why can't it employ its powers for good?

In other news, I've been watching the mighty Borders as it begins its tilt into the sea ... it may yet recover, but I fear it's as doomed as the Titanic.

The doom of the actual ship the Titanic, not the movie which made gizillions of dollars.

Back to marketing now. Let's all us writer-types wish each other luck in the new weird world of publishing.

Books of Retail

I'm going to shorthand a few things here:

Whining about technical difficulties (primary--can't upload pics from camera yet)

Whining about soreness from gardening.  Garden is looking better w/o blackberries

I've been writing on a book of financial guidelines and wisdom as seen from the point of view of a retail clerk.  I've seen people do this stuff.  Yeah, that's you I'm talking about ...

So far I've got a chapter about how people really don't know or don't seem to care about what they're buying, and a chapter about how I'd love to be on some people's Christmas lists because dang ... I'm not talking so much about overspending but an increasing trend where it's all about the recipient's happiness and the unintended consequences of that belief.

I'll most likely epublish this book, but I may send it around to some publishers after it's done because I think people will learn and enjoy at the same time.  I'm still groping for a title. Tales of Retail Shame and Redemption: A consumer's guide?  I just kicked that out there.  I haven't given it very much thought.

BTW, if you like fun retail stories, one of my favorites is The Acts of Gord.  Even my DH who has never worked retail enjoyed the Acts of Gord.  It's not about financial advice.  More along the lines of things some retail employees wish they could do.

Looking Forward to a Great Week

I started a new book a couple of days ago.  This one will be a WIP between bouts of finishing a couple of others.  

Working on multiple projects again is a breakthrough for me.  I feel like I'm making progress, though toward what, I don't know yet.  It's certainly not technique-based advancement.  But I do know that when I was at my most prolific, I was working on multiple projects at a time.  I had to let that go for a while.  Coming back to it feels like coming home, but to a bigger house so that all my stuff doesn't feel like clutter.  If that makes sense.

Anyway, I feel like I've found my groove.  

In gardening news, I pulled up a bunch of blackberries.  I have a lot more to pull up, and mulching to do.  While cleaning up, I found a lot of daffodils nosing through the ground.  Too soon, my darlings, too soon!  I made sure they got covered up again with mulch, not so much so that they don't freeze, at least not in a direct sense, but to make sure they remain dormant.  

One of the kewl things about living in the Pac NW is the long growing season ... and one of the disadvantages is the long growing season.  We're very prone to early warm-ups followed by late frosts.  We often have a warm stretch in February, and snow as late as April.  Fruit trees?  Sorry, they have to take their chances.  But the bulbs I can do something about without a huge investment or time-consuming intervention.  It's just what I did ... mulch.  

Cleaning up the last of the leaves mid-winter, especially in January, doesn't just dislodge pests camped close to their spring food source.  It can retard or halt fungal disease and/or rot.  And if you manage to do it on a very cold day (preferably windless so that you're not too uncomfortable) you can seal in cold around those bulbs.  That means they'll stay colder longer, meaning they'll stay dormant longer ... and hopefully they'll stay dormant during that weird 50 degree F weather in February and come up at just the right time, instead of getting frost damage or dying altogether in early March when the temperature drops hard and the earth freezes up and all moisture is sapped until your skin cracks.  

I would have been gardening today in the beautiful sunshine, but I had to work.  We've got snow and possible freezing rain forecast in our area.  Being one of those weird people who won't kill themselves trying to get to work, I may very well end up working in the garden unexpectedly, cutting back weeds, pruning roses, and mulching like crazy during the freeze.  And, of course, when darkness falls, I've got projects to write on.

Sounds like a great week ahead.  If I get a chance, I'll post a pic of our giant, fierce snowbunny and the boy's twisted snowman.

2011

Lots of new stuff this year. New car, bought with cash--first new car bought with cash. Highly recommended, btw, because there's no interest to pay. New cat (the Poop, aka Veronica.) New chicken coop. New (sort of) job, but with the added newness of being my first full time job since, oh ... let's see ... the early nineties. New friends, too. And our house has new paint on it. Speaking of which, we'd better get that new porch finished soon.

Lots of old stuff this year. Old clothes sewn back together. Old vehicles carefully maintained to continue running for years to come (we hope.) An old blanket with a new shell, now a favorite blanket that everyone wants to snuggle in. An old dog who survived serious surgery and is even now snoozing under the dining table. Good times with old friends, and visiting old haunts. Cleaning out old, dusty corners and rediscovering new living and storage space.

Mostly, though, 2010 was a lot about survival, and returning to a wilder, more insecure lifestyle. It's a lot scarier to rely upon self-employment when you have a mortgage and kids to take care of than the last time we did this way back in our college years. I have the easy part of the deal: I trust and believe in my DH to continue to succeed, and I believe we'll thrive with him at the helm. I'm the backup plan, the supplemental income person, the fill-in-the-gaps gal. I have a lot less pressure on me, but I think that my DH is happier with the very different kind of pressure that he's under, as opposed to the daily slog kind of pressure he had before where the future looks pretty much the same as the past. We're bailing like crazy, but our boat is afloat and we don't appear to be sinking. I don't think our goal is some distant shore. I think it's to put our boat into order and keep sailing on.

For now we're all healthy, including the animals. I'm grateful that we have even more than health. We have shelter, food, clothing, clean water, beautiful skies, and good earth. I'm even grateful for the stupid blackberries.

Here's to health, and life, and most of all, to hope. It's the beginning: time to dream, to plan, and to strive.

A Holiday Tale

Is it just me or has this holiday season been really quiet?  Dare I say subdued?

And yet, I had a really wonderful time this year.  Maybe the economy helped people remember what's really important.  Or maybe it's always like this, or I'm seeing things from a skewed perspective.  It's not like that would be a shocker ...

I do miss our little stray dog, who we named Chase.  Turned out her name is Decker, and she lives up the road.  We experienced the reverse of what we went through when Brian went missing.  After having Chase/Decker in our lives for a month, the owner found her.  After bonding with us, she seemed confused and wasn't really ready to go with her owner, but then he triggered her with a familiar phrase.  "Come on, let's go for a ride in the truck!"

And like that, she was gone.

I'm hugely comforted by the fact that she was part of a family with kids, and that those kids got a fantastic gift--a reunion after most of their hope had fled of ever seeing their dog again.  I remember how I cried sometimes weeks after Brian went missing, and how much I laughed, and cried again but this time with joy, when we got him back.  When I come home and Chase isn't there, I'm so grateful for my own dogs being home that I linger with them, letting them know how much I love them, and how awesome they are.  We have great dogs.  We really, really didn't need another one.

So, that's it, I guess.  A winter story with a magical ending and a little hint of sadness.  It's quiet here, and subdued, but good.  The days are finally getting longer, and before I'm ready for it, spring will be here.

Food as Bonding

There's something awesome about making cookies with family.  It's a chemistry lesson, experimentation, an exercise in making-due, and playtime all wrapped together ... but there's so much more to it than even that.  It's as if we're participating in an old family tradition, even though we do it very, very seldom.  We're linked by sticky ingredients all over our hands and patches of flour on our noses where we've scratched.  

There's something deeply bonding about sharing food, and even more bonding by making food together.  For all I know it may be written into our DNA, helping us love to be together since alone most of us would die.  Many others have remarked on how families and friends become closer through cooking.  I'm just another voice among many saying oh heck yeah, it means so much more than working so that you can stuff your face.

I've been looking forward to making cookies for weeks, and it's everything I could have asked for and more.

Plus we get to eat our creations.  Yum.

Stuff

 Just a quickie before work ...

We have snow again.  I'm not deterred from driving.  Work isn't that far away, and now it appears to be above freezing and raining.  It's very likely that about 200 yards down from our place there isn't any snow at all.

Sure was pretty to wake up to, though.

Made a little more progress on the porch yesterday.  Sunshine, freezing winds ... sure, why not?  The boy actually suggested it.  I didn't want to, but I recognized the wisdom in seizing the non-rainy day.  So we got about another 16 square feet or so done on that.  Not much, but the way we have to put it together--that's about 3 hours of work.  

I planted (just in time, it turns out) some daylillies donated by my mom for the great multi-acre garden cause.  As the average temperature continues to drop, the danger that the extremely hardy roots might succumb to freezing damage rose.  They're safe and snug in the earth now.  Also joining them: crocosmia and bluebells.  

I'm really looking forward to the show next year, assuming that I get all the blackberries beaten back in time.

And our stray foundling, Chase, is slowly learning the house rules.  No news yet as far as whether we're going to keep this beautiful, young female herding dog who weighs in at a mere 28 pounds.  We have a few days to decide what to do.

Three more days until Yule!  Weee!

Attack of the Poop

We have nicknames for almost all of our animals. Veronica also answers to 'Poop!' One of these days I'll have to have the boy video one of my exchanges with Veronica, which is probably only entertaining to me. It goes along the lines of:

"Poop!"

"Meow?"

"Poop!"

"Mrrow!"

"Poop!"

"Mmruw?"

"Poop!"

"Mow?"

On and on pretty endlessly. I only really want to document it in case anyone tries to attribute any sort of decorum or fussy propriety to me. I'm a kites-with-pictures-of-my-goats-with-wings-on-them, chocolate-cake-smeared-on-one-cheek kind of gal.

Just sayin'.

Not that it's ever likely to be an issue.

But I'll be watching, so you better not do anything too toward in my name out there.

Veronica originally got the nickname 'Poop' because I thought her coloration is reminiscent of bird poop. I'm also a fan of Winnie the Pooh, and therefore I'm perfectly happy with silly, somewhat inappropriate cutesy names for things. I know, I know, blame the innocent Pooh for my weirdness--how gauche. But there you have it.

Anyway, the Poop is spoiled rotten. She gets away with all kinds of stuff.

Brian is so sweet and patient.

Plus, he's a total attention hog, so as long as he's getting his pets, he doesn't care.

Yay Beach Trip

We went to the coast yesterday.  It's been a long time--too long.  I've missed the salt-damp air that soothed my skin (local desert winds have sucked the moisture out of everything.)  Seeing the gentle curvature of the earth from a high clifftop as I scan the blue horizon in a sweeping glance at an ocean view so broad you can't see from one edge to the other all at once.  Marveling at the power of a sea lion as he leapt from the water onto a rock six feet out of the water.  Creamy clam chowder with little puddles of butter swimming on top and home-baked bread.  The thrill of not-quite-surprise as a wave surges into a narrow channel and then drills water up through a spout hole where it shatters into a glassy rainbow.  Dancing on ice cold sand and barnacle rocks in tender feet while the waves tickle up the shoreline pushing foam over my toes.

My DH and I fantasized about making a life at the coast.  Spending the day there made me feel young again as I relived a thousand memories, and at the same time I saw so many things through new eyes as our guest saw the ocean up close for the first time in his life--recanting old rules and warning about the dangers of our wild coast reminded me that I've learned a thing or two over the years about the melding place of land and sea.

I miss sailing too.  

Spending a day at the coast is always wonderful.  Spending it with family and friends--yeah.  It was a really good day.

Yay Beach Trip

We went to the coast yesterday.  It's been a long time--too long.  I've missed the salt-damp air that soothed my skin (local desert winds have sucked the moisture out of everything.)  Seeing the gentle curvature of the earth from a high clifftop as I scan the blue horizon in a sweeping glance at an ocean view so broad you can't see from one edge to the other all at once.  Marveling at the power of a sea lion as he leapt from the water onto a rock six feet out of the water.  Creamy clam chowder with little puddles of butter swimming on top and home-baked bread.  The thrill of not-quite-surprise as a wave surges into a narrow channel and then drills water up through a spout hole where it shatters into a glassy rainbow.

The Muddle in the Middle

I didn't make either of my Nano goals this year, but I had a great time, and I've reached the muddle in the middle of a new novel with all new characters.  It's a lot of fun.

The muddle in the middle reminds me a lot of the middle game in chess.  Surviving the middle game is a huge hurdle when you're learning to play chess.  Thriving in the middle game separates the accidental winners and losers from chess masters, who exploit the chaos as much as possible.

I think writing through the muddle in the middle is really similar.  At some point surviving it (rather than taking weird plot turns or losing characterization/plot in a weak and complicated mangle of words) becomes thriving becomes mastering that muddle and turning it to your advantage.  I don't feel like I'm really thriving there yet, but this time around I feel like I can see more clearly than I ever have before.  It still feels complicated, but my characters and the plot haven't gotten lost.

Nothing to do but plunge onward and see what happens next!

Eeeee!

I don't know if I'm going to make my Nano goal this year!  Eeeee!

No days off, house guest arriving tomorrow at 1pm ...

It's not looking good.  Wish me luck!

Latest farm pics

The goats are all fattened up and ready for a long winter.  They put on more wool and more fat than other years.  I think they know something we don't ...

We had just a couple of inches of snow, much of which got melted by rain.  Today I got to enjoy one of my favorite sorts of days:  patches of sunlight and clouds, no wind, golden light on snow, blue sky shining through icicles, and occasional bouts of snow coming from silver and white puffballs floating overhead.

The chickens spent most of their day sunning themselves by the house.  When a particularly dark cloud went overhead, the roosters all crowed, and then crowed again when the sun came back.  They worked great as an alarm so I knew when it was time to head out and take a little walk around the garden.

They got frozen grapes for a treat.  I hadn't meant to freeze them--I just missed a few bunches, and since half the bright yellow leaves have now fallen off the grapes (the leaves are falling off the beech tree like rain now that we've had some serious cold) I discovered them.

Not pictured:  Brian and Finn chasing each other around the yard in the snow.  Beautiful white fluffy dogs enjoying the perfect day.

Yay Day

I've had to modify my writing goal this month to be more in keeping with the traditional Nanowrimo word count rather than my 100,000 word goal--and I think I'll be lucky to make it.  I should have been well over 25,000 words by now, and I'm not quite there yet.  Hopefully a couple of days of dedicated writing will fix that.

In legal news, which I haven't been able to talk about, a lawsuit has settled out of court.  It's a huge weight off of my shoulders.  I don't think it was particularly fair, but I'll settle for no-longer-stressful (and we're fine--this didn't affect anything except my moral sensibilities.)

So the two days I'd asked off so that I could be dragged kicking and screaming to court are now available for writing and preparing for our house guest.  

The kids are doing really well, we're doing well (we're going to survive to the end of the year, yay!) and life is pretty good.  I'll definitely be counting a lot of blessings on Yule.