Well, in spite of compulsive convention watching, the Daily Show, and two days of poorly spaced naps for the kiddies, I did complete an outline for the story that has been haunting me.
The big problem has been deciding whose story it is. I think/hope/want it to be the mother's story, but the daughter knows things that the mother doesn't. Things I want the reader to know. I think 3rd peson omniscient is too distancing from both of them, and I want to go with the mother's perspective... but I don't know.
Given that no one will probably ever read it but me, I'm going to forge ahead with the mother, and change it or add a viewpoint change later if that seems right. The technicalities of writing are more challenging that I expected. I have always thought of myself as a skilled wordsmith, with the storyteller in me requiring a bit more assistance.
I'm finding, though, that fiction writing is vastly different from the essays, grants, and even a bit of poetry I have written in the past.
I'm thoroughly enjoying the challenge, but it's definitely different.
bearing witness to the fleeting moments of growing two little girls, an edible backyard, a baby-to-be, chickens, and a novel
Friday, August 29, 2008
Tell me, Please, Palin is no Hillary....
Tell me that you listened to Barack's speech last night.
Tell me that the video took your breath away, especially given the stark contrast with the last two DNC conventions that left all of us saying, well, he's not Bush.
Tell me that the speech that followed, especially the bit about "we're a better country than this" and the bit about it being his grandmother's night too and the bit about "we are all patriots" brought you to your feet in your own living room with the energy and excitement that only comes from hoping that we may be able to recover the lost ground of the past 8 years.
Tell me that McCain's running mate, Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin, will not steal Hillary's supporters since, other than both having a, um, hoo-ha, they share little resemblance.... Certainly not the pro-woman, pro-family, pro-health care, pro-choice policies that Hillary has spent a lifetime supporting.
Tell me that getting ahead in politics as a woman doesn't mean you have to be come a cross between Ann Coulter, George Bush, and the Brauny paper towel guy.
And tell me, please tell me that the democrats have some obnoxious, media-stealing news blitz planned for the day after McCain gives his undoubtedly dull and un-newsworthy speach at the end of their convention.
I can't stand the game... it's all too stressful!
Tell me that the video took your breath away, especially given the stark contrast with the last two DNC conventions that left all of us saying, well, he's not Bush.
Tell me that the speech that followed, especially the bit about "we're a better country than this" and the bit about it being his grandmother's night too and the bit about "we are all patriots" brought you to your feet in your own living room with the energy and excitement that only comes from hoping that we may be able to recover the lost ground of the past 8 years.
Tell me that McCain's running mate, Alaskan Governor Sarah Palin, will not steal Hillary's supporters since, other than both having a, um, hoo-ha, they share little resemblance.... Certainly not the pro-woman, pro-family, pro-health care, pro-choice policies that Hillary has spent a lifetime supporting.
Tell me that getting ahead in politics as a woman doesn't mean you have to be come a cross between Ann Coulter, George Bush, and the Brauny paper towel guy.
And tell me, please tell me that the democrats have some obnoxious, media-stealing news blitz planned for the day after McCain gives his undoubtedly dull and un-newsworthy speach at the end of their convention.
I can't stand the game... it's all too stressful!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Who Let the Chickens Out?
At least she admitteded it.
Maya went out to check for eggs (a ritual repeated about 13 times a day even though we only get 4 eggs), and came back looking a little sheepish.
"I didn't mean to let them out, mama."
It took a long, long time to get those wiley chickens back into their coop.
You have to give them some credit. For a bunch of bird brains, they did pretty well, discovering that Maya's egg check would be the perfect time to fly the coop. Out the nesting boxes they went, over Maya's head, and away into the yard-of-many-good-things-to-eat.
I played the role of the not-so-wiley coyote. At one point, my head even turned red and leaked steam when the chicken I cornered somehow flew up at me and then ducked down under my legs.
What I wouldn't have given for a well-balanced anvil....
Or at least a babysitter, so that every time I went for (and usually missed) a chicken, I had to scoop up a toddler amid her attempts to eat rocks, run behind the tool shed, or bite her sister.
Phew.... and all I wanted was to go cuddle a friend's sweet new baby.... soon!
Maya went out to check for eggs (a ritual repeated about 13 times a day even though we only get 4 eggs), and came back looking a little sheepish.
"I didn't mean to let them out, mama."
It took a long, long time to get those wiley chickens back into their coop.
You have to give them some credit. For a bunch of bird brains, they did pretty well, discovering that Maya's egg check would be the perfect time to fly the coop. Out the nesting boxes they went, over Maya's head, and away into the yard-of-many-good-things-to-eat.
I played the role of the not-so-wiley coyote. At one point, my head even turned red and leaked steam when the chicken I cornered somehow flew up at me and then ducked down under my legs.
What I wouldn't have given for a well-balanced anvil....
Or at least a babysitter, so that every time I went for (and usually missed) a chicken, I had to scoop up a toddler amid her attempts to eat rocks, run behind the tool shed, or bite her sister.
Phew.... and all I wanted was to go cuddle a friend's sweet new baby.... soon!
Who Let the Chickens Out?
At least she admitteded it.
Maya went out to check for eggs (a ritual repeated about 13 times a day even though we only get 4 eggs), and came back looking a little sheepish.
"I didn't mean to let them out, mama."
It took a long, long time to get those wiley chickens back into their coop.
You have to give them some credit. For a bunch of bird brains, they did pretty well, discovering that Maya's egg check would be the perfect time to fly the coop. Out the nesting boxes they went, over Maya's head, and away into the yard-of-many-good-things-to-eat.
I played the role of the not-so-wiley coyote. At one point, my head even turned red and leaked steam when the chicken I cornered somehow flew up at me and then ducked down under my legs.
What I wouldn't have given for a well-balanced anvil....
Or at least a babysitter, so that every time I went for (and usually missed) a chicken, I had to scoop up a toddler amid her attempts to eat rocks, run behind the tool shed, or bite her sister.
Phew.... and all I wanted was to go cuddle a friend's sweet new baby.... soon!
Maya went out to check for eggs (a ritual repeated about 13 times a day even though we only get 4 eggs), and came back looking a little sheepish.
"I didn't mean to let them out, mama."
It took a long, long time to get those wiley chickens back into their coop.
You have to give them some credit. For a bunch of bird brains, they did pretty well, discovering that Maya's egg check would be the perfect time to fly the coop. Out the nesting boxes they went, over Maya's head, and away into the yard-of-many-good-things-to-eat.
I played the role of the not-so-wiley coyote. At one point, my head even turned red and leaked steam when the chicken I cornered somehow flew up at me and then ducked down under my legs.
What I wouldn't have given for a well-balanced anvil....
Or at least a babysitter, so that every time I went for (and usually missed) a chicken, I had to scoop up a toddler amid her attempts to eat rocks, run behind the tool shed, or bite her sister.
Phew.... and all I wanted was to go cuddle a friend's sweet new baby.... soon!
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Somebody block the internet from my computer, please!
I have very little time to devote to writing.
Let's face it, with two really young children I often have to decide whether today is going to be take-a-shower day or load-the-dishwasher day, both being an inconceivable burden.
So what little time I do have, mostly in the late evenings or during a miraculous double naptime, I must use judiciously.
For two days, thoough, I have told myself that my next chunck of time would be reserved for drafting a short story idea that I need to purge before I can push forward with my NaNoWriMo idea (yea for ideas that won't leave me alone... at least something is percolating other than coffee!).
For two days, my best intentions have fizzled as I dithered around with e-mail, NaNoWriMo forums, and obsessive compulsive blogging (mostly indulging the voyeuristic instinct that thrives on reading other people's blogs).
Time to exercise some self-control, and probably set a goal.
Before this weekend, I intend to forsake the internet and have a draft of this little story.
Off I go then, just after I check the convention coverage on NPR...
Let's face it, with two really young children I often have to decide whether today is going to be take-a-shower day or load-the-dishwasher day, both being an inconceivable burden.
So what little time I do have, mostly in the late evenings or during a miraculous double naptime, I must use judiciously.
For two days, thoough, I have told myself that my next chunck of time would be reserved for drafting a short story idea that I need to purge before I can push forward with my NaNoWriMo idea (yea for ideas that won't leave me alone... at least something is percolating other than coffee!).
For two days, my best intentions have fizzled as I dithered around with e-mail, NaNoWriMo forums, and obsessive compulsive blogging (mostly indulging the voyeuristic instinct that thrives on reading other people's blogs).
Time to exercise some self-control, and probably set a goal.
Before this weekend, I intend to forsake the internet and have a draft of this little story.
Off I go then, just after I check the convention coverage on NPR...
Hillary too~
The video montage was amazing, don't you agree?
It made me think of all the strong women in my family (we have an overflowing bounty of them!) and the force of wills and maternal pride that keeps driving us all to define our lives on our own terms.
The only stomach turning moment was during the long, long applause during Hillary's entrace. They kept showing Bill. I love Bill. I think he was a fabulous president, and in the past 7 years, every time I've heard him speak has been like a balm on the rash caused by W.
However, seeing him in the role of supportive husband was... well... yucky.
And when he actually mouthed "I love you," I almost tossed my cookies!
Other than that, though, Hillary was great. She would have made an amazing president, but now she'll simply remain a valuable ally for Pres. Obama in the senate.
It made me think of all the strong women in my family (we have an overflowing bounty of them!) and the force of wills and maternal pride that keeps driving us all to define our lives on our own terms.
The only stomach turning moment was during the long, long applause during Hillary's entrace. They kept showing Bill. I love Bill. I think he was a fabulous president, and in the past 7 years, every time I've heard him speak has been like a balm on the rash caused by W.
However, seeing him in the role of supportive husband was... well... yucky.
And when he actually mouthed "I love you," I almost tossed my cookies!
Other than that, though, Hillary was great. She would have made an amazing president, but now she'll simply remain a valuable ally for Pres. Obama in the senate.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
For the Love of a Deadline
For a girl who has always thought of herself as a writer, but never completed anything outside of a composition class, I'm really enjoying the artificial "deadline" imposed by the NaNoWriMo contest.
It's silly, I realize. I've imposed the deadline by deciding to participate.
Yet in the two-ish weeks since I've decided to write something substantial, I've filled up two notebooks full of ideas. The main concept that is beginning to take shape is starting to come alive, in a way that writers on radio interviews often brag (I used to think, begrudgingly) about. My characters are starting to speak to me in a way that I didn't believe was possible without the help of serious narcotics. Even if they are only telling me things that are glaring, things I should have noticed before. At least the dialogue is beginning, and a story is starting to take shape... just a bit.
I've nearly killed the whole idea a time or two, but because of the artificial deadline, I keep plugging away. I keep wrestling with the So What? question that has to continuously have an answer exciting enough that someone might at some point want to read the final product. On purpose.
I keep surprising myself by coming up with answers that are inspiring enough to keep me plotting.
Yea for deadlines!
It's silly, I realize. I've imposed the deadline by deciding to participate.
Yet in the two-ish weeks since I've decided to write something substantial, I've filled up two notebooks full of ideas. The main concept that is beginning to take shape is starting to come alive, in a way that writers on radio interviews often brag (I used to think, begrudgingly) about. My characters are starting to speak to me in a way that I didn't believe was possible without the help of serious narcotics. Even if they are only telling me things that are glaring, things I should have noticed before. At least the dialogue is beginning, and a story is starting to take shape... just a bit.
I've nearly killed the whole idea a time or two, but because of the artificial deadline, I keep plugging away. I keep wrestling with the So What? question that has to continuously have an answer exciting enough that someone might at some point want to read the final product. On purpose.
I keep surprising myself by coming up with answers that are inspiring enough to keep me plotting.
Yea for deadlines!
Michelle, ma belle
Did everyone listen to Michelle Obama last night?
It is worth listening to online, if you missed it. I remember being 13, listening to Hilary Clinton at the '92 convention, and being excited to hear a female orator with strength and enthusiasm. Michelle Obama likely made history last night, setting herself up as first lady in an idealistic yet efective presidential duo that will work to right the wrongs created in the Bush presidency.
At least, I hope so.
Of course I would rather have the inspiring, strong female orator cast in the role of presidential candidate rather than spouse. But unlike Hilary's die hard supporters, who appear to be threatening mutiny at the convention if they don't get.... I don't even know what they want... Unlike them, I have no problem supporting Barak Obama.
I'm am just a little afraid. It's like watching Phelps swim. You know they are all probably sincere. The ideas they espouse, not just the poetic way they present them, stir a deep desire in most of us to participate in changing the disparities in the world around us. I, we, hope and expect them to work toward these goals with sincerity.
Seven years under the most duplicitous executive branch in history understandably leaves me watching the convention with my fingers crossed. Let's hope the Obama's can deliver.
During the Olympics I kept thinking, this would really suck if Phelps turns out to be on something.... like so many other athletes. Now I find myself with similar thoughts regarding past political disappointments.
Here's to hoping they're not on anything... like a simple power trip.
It is worth listening to online, if you missed it. I remember being 13, listening to Hilary Clinton at the '92 convention, and being excited to hear a female orator with strength and enthusiasm. Michelle Obama likely made history last night, setting herself up as first lady in an idealistic yet efective presidential duo that will work to right the wrongs created in the Bush presidency.
At least, I hope so.
Of course I would rather have the inspiring, strong female orator cast in the role of presidential candidate rather than spouse. But unlike Hilary's die hard supporters, who appear to be threatening mutiny at the convention if they don't get.... I don't even know what they want... Unlike them, I have no problem supporting Barak Obama.
I'm am just a little afraid. It's like watching Phelps swim. You know they are all probably sincere. The ideas they espouse, not just the poetic way they present them, stir a deep desire in most of us to participate in changing the disparities in the world around us. I, we, hope and expect them to work toward these goals with sincerity.
Seven years under the most duplicitous executive branch in history understandably leaves me watching the convention with my fingers crossed. Let's hope the Obama's can deliver.
During the Olympics I kept thinking, this would really suck if Phelps turns out to be on something.... like so many other athletes. Now I find myself with similar thoughts regarding past political disappointments.
Here's to hoping they're not on anything... like a simple power trip.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Adventure Day - Close to Home
The new camera has been ordered (online deals are too much better than the in store prices, so we await Amazon's speedy service), so unfortunately there are no new pictures to post.
Yes, my cell phone has photo capacity. No, I have no idea how to download them. I'm probably the most luddite blogger in the blogosphere!
If the camera had been along, you would have been treated to a video of Maya singing "Skip to My Lou" and skipping down a narrow dirt path between a field of purple and yellow prairie flowers on her left and cattails and water reeds on her right, all towring above her. Her wild printed athletic shorts nicely offsetting a pink, blue, and green striped t-shert. Her head crown with a comb-defying halo of golden fuzz. As she skipped, she twirled a cattail in one hand and a bunch of clover flowers in the other, waving it all about in quick jerky motions matching the rhythm of her mostly-made-up song.
I might have taken a picture or two of Elliot Rose alone in the double stroller, chubby little hands gripping the side of her seat, her chin resting on her hands, and her eyes mesmerized by the noontime shadows she cast. Later, another picture would have featured her, still in the stroller, this time with both hands and feet flailing wildly, mouth open and smiling as she wordlessly sang along with Maya.
It took us about an hour and half to explore a little path near our house. Though its behind the playground that we visit at least once a day, I completely forgot about it until recently. What an excellent adventure day. It required no gas, and it offered a wildlife setting very similar to the pasture behind my house when I was a kid (if you add in the traffic sounds that overlaid the many bug and bird noises... take away the cattle).
We'll be back to this one... maybe daily!
Yes, my cell phone has photo capacity. No, I have no idea how to download them. I'm probably the most luddite blogger in the blogosphere!
If the camera had been along, you would have been treated to a video of Maya singing "Skip to My Lou" and skipping down a narrow dirt path between a field of purple and yellow prairie flowers on her left and cattails and water reeds on her right, all towring above her. Her wild printed athletic shorts nicely offsetting a pink, blue, and green striped t-shert. Her head crown with a comb-defying halo of golden fuzz. As she skipped, she twirled a cattail in one hand and a bunch of clover flowers in the other, waving it all about in quick jerky motions matching the rhythm of her mostly-made-up song.
I might have taken a picture or two of Elliot Rose alone in the double stroller, chubby little hands gripping the side of her seat, her chin resting on her hands, and her eyes mesmerized by the noontime shadows she cast. Later, another picture would have featured her, still in the stroller, this time with both hands and feet flailing wildly, mouth open and smiling as she wordlessly sang along with Maya.
It took us about an hour and half to explore a little path near our house. Though its behind the playground that we visit at least once a day, I completely forgot about it until recently. What an excellent adventure day. It required no gas, and it offered a wildlife setting very similar to the pasture behind my house when I was a kid (if you add in the traffic sounds that overlaid the many bug and bird noises... take away the cattle).
We'll be back to this one... maybe daily!
Adventure Day - Close to Home
The new camera has been ordered (online deals are too much better than the in store prices, so we await Amazon's speedy service), so unfortunately there are no new pictures to post.
Yes, my cell phone has photo capacity. No, I have no idea how to download them. I'm probably the most luddite blogger in the blogosphere!
If the camera had been along, you would have been treated to a video of Maya singing "Skip to My Lou" and skipping down a narrow dirt path between a field of purple and yellow prairie flowers on her left and cattails and water reeds on her right, all towring above her. Her wild printed athletic shorts nicely offsetting a pink, blue, and green striped t-shert. Her head crown with a comb-defying halo of golden fuzz. As she skipped, she twirled a cattail in one hand and a bunch of clover flowers in the other, waving it all about in quick jerky motions matching the rhythm of her mostly-made-up song.
I might have taken a picture or two of Elliot Rose alone in the double stroller, chubby little hands gripping the side of her seat, her chin resting on her hands, and her eyes mesmerized by the noontime shadows she cast. Later, another picture would have featured her, still in the stroller, this time with both hands and feet flailing wildly, mouth open and smiling as she wordlessly sang along with Maya.
It took us about an hour and half to explore a little path near our house. Though its behind the playground that we visit at least once a day, I completely forgot about it until recently. What an excellent adventure day. It required no gas, and it offered a wildlife setting very similar to the pasture behind my house when I was a kid (if you add in the traffic sounds that overlaid the many bug and bird noises... take away the cattle).
We'll be back to this one... maybe daily!
Yes, my cell phone has photo capacity. No, I have no idea how to download them. I'm probably the most luddite blogger in the blogosphere!
If the camera had been along, you would have been treated to a video of Maya singing "Skip to My Lou" and skipping down a narrow dirt path between a field of purple and yellow prairie flowers on her left and cattails and water reeds on her right, all towring above her. Her wild printed athletic shorts nicely offsetting a pink, blue, and green striped t-shert. Her head crown with a comb-defying halo of golden fuzz. As she skipped, she twirled a cattail in one hand and a bunch of clover flowers in the other, waving it all about in quick jerky motions matching the rhythm of her mostly-made-up song.
I might have taken a picture or two of Elliot Rose alone in the double stroller, chubby little hands gripping the side of her seat, her chin resting on her hands, and her eyes mesmerized by the noontime shadows she cast. Later, another picture would have featured her, still in the stroller, this time with both hands and feet flailing wildly, mouth open and smiling as she wordlessly sang along with Maya.
It took us about an hour and half to explore a little path near our house. Though its behind the playground that we visit at least once a day, I completely forgot about it until recently. What an excellent adventure day. It required no gas, and it offered a wildlife setting very similar to the pasture behind my house when I was a kid (if you add in the traffic sounds that overlaid the many bug and bird noises... take away the cattle).
We'll be back to this one... maybe daily!
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Camera is busted!?
Eeek. Our poor camera has taken a lot of abuse, from baging around in a travel bag while we climbed up the narrow stairs to the top of the cathedral in Florence to Maya's never-ending attempts to capture a kodak moment All. By. Her. Self.
Perhaps her mother should have been more assertive about the fact that children shouldn't play with complex technology or less confident that teaching a three-year-old how to use a camera will prevent the usual fumbles of childhood.
Yesterday, the poor thing landed lense down. It's been unable to open its lense ever since. It's possible that removing a few tiny screws and jostling it around a bit may renew its ability to stand at attention (ha, ha), but until then, I will be unable to anchor my blog with oh-so-sweet pictures of the girls. Stories though, we have piles of those. I'll post some soon!
Perhaps her mother should have been more assertive about the fact that children shouldn't play with complex technology or less confident that teaching a three-year-old how to use a camera will prevent the usual fumbles of childhood.
Yesterday, the poor thing landed lense down. It's been unable to open its lense ever since. It's possible that removing a few tiny screws and jostling it around a bit may renew its ability to stand at attention (ha, ha), but until then, I will be unable to anchor my blog with oh-so-sweet pictures of the girls. Stories though, we have piles of those. I'll post some soon!
A Draft!
For the first time since graduate school, when a speech by Madeline Albright and accompanying protesters inspired me to write a complete but unread essay, I have completed a writing goal.
Admittedly, it was a small goal. I decided that if I really intend to write a novel in the fall, I should complete a smaller project first. Thanks to an hour of daily story time with two young children, my head is fairly brimming with picture book ideas.
Last night, I completed a (very rough) draft of a 1,000 word children's story. The unfinished product in no way resembles the slightly irreverent, endearing, and parent-friendly vision that sounded so good in my head. But maybe, with a bit of editing, it will get there.
For now, I'm thrilled that I've completed something. Multiply this little effort by 50,000 and I'll complete the NaNoWriMo challenge!
Admittedly, it was a small goal. I decided that if I really intend to write a novel in the fall, I should complete a smaller project first. Thanks to an hour of daily story time with two young children, my head is fairly brimming with picture book ideas.
Last night, I completed a (very rough) draft of a 1,000 word children's story. The unfinished product in no way resembles the slightly irreverent, endearing, and parent-friendly vision that sounded so good in my head. But maybe, with a bit of editing, it will get there.
For now, I'm thrilled that I've completed something. Multiply this little effort by 50,000 and I'll complete the NaNoWriMo challenge!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Reunited, And it Feels so Good
After Maya's little weekend vacation with Grandma and Grandpa, and our vacation with just Elliot Rose, we are all glad to be together again.
Maya is full of new stories, dance moves, and funny tricks (I can definitely tell which ones came from Grandpa!)from her big trip. If Joe or I mention that we missed her she employs her most exasperated tone to say, "You KNEW I was coming home.
During Elliot's nap today, Maya and I spent some special time outside making sand art. She told me all about the fancy party she went to Saturday night, while we used glue, sand, finger paint, and flowers to make colorful art.
It's unfortunate that even wintery projects like finger painting and collages are more fun outside... but that might be due to the easy clean up.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Natture Vs. Nurture?
While the answer to this question surely lies somewhere in between, it has been haunting me a lot lately with respect to writing.
Part of me hopes that the nurture aspect of writing, diligence and practice, has a greater impact on ultimate success. That would mean that if I simply write my heart out, read constantly, maybe take a few classes, I have a shot.
Another part of me is equally hopeful that nature is really the key to success. Since I've never really taken creative writing classes, and I've spent the past 15 years talking about writing and dreaming about writing, but accomplishing very little, nurture seems to have slipped past me.
No, no, I'm only almost-30. It's certainly not too late to hope for both: a smidgen of talent and a heaping dose of effort.
This week I read Orson Scott Card's How To Write Science Fiction & Fantasy. It was fantastic, provocative, inspiring... and intimidating.
So I washed it down with NaNoWriMo's own No Plot, No Problem. This was irreverent, silly, motivating... and barely worth reading.
Between the two of them, I picked up a lot of good writing prompt ideas, and a great big pile of "Yes I Can."
Off I go then. The daily word count is lagging.
Part of me hopes that the nurture aspect of writing, diligence and practice, has a greater impact on ultimate success. That would mean that if I simply write my heart out, read constantly, maybe take a few classes, I have a shot.
Another part of me is equally hopeful that nature is really the key to success. Since I've never really taken creative writing classes, and I've spent the past 15 years talking about writing and dreaming about writing, but accomplishing very little, nurture seems to have slipped past me.
No, no, I'm only almost-30. It's certainly not too late to hope for both: a smidgen of talent and a heaping dose of effort.
This week I read Orson Scott Card's How To Write Science Fiction & Fantasy. It was fantastic, provocative, inspiring... and intimidating.
So I washed it down with NaNoWriMo's own No Plot, No Problem. This was irreverent, silly, motivating... and barely worth reading.
Between the two of them, I picked up a lot of good writing prompt ideas, and a great big pile of "Yes I Can."
Off I go then. The daily word count is lagging.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Adventure Day - The Tamed Wild
Grandma, on a recent visit, tossed out a new idea for adventure day: the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum.
This was a departure from our usual Adventure Days, which have mostly explored local parks with lots of unpaved trails and wildlife. (Incidentally, the summer has really gotten away from us, so we haven't met our adventure-per-week goal. We have, though, made lots of time for unfettered, unplanned outdoor play, which was the original point anyway.)
In spite of a harried trek to the opposite side of the metro in a psycho reality of never ending rush hour (Seriously, where do these people think they need to go? I'm trying to get somewhere!), we had a beautiful morning at the arboretum.
I wasn't prepared for the endless miles of beautifully groomed trails and flower beds. August was the perfect choice for a first visit, because everything is in bloom.
My mom and I learned the names of lot of local weeds - I mean, prairie flowers that we will no longer mow over! Maya found a kaleidescope of butterflies (others might call it a swarm, both are correct) and loved running around on the trails.
We didn't get as many pictures as usual, since neither Maya or Elliot stay in one place very long, but here is a sampling.
This was the whimsical house made entirely of growing things. Maya loved the flowers that made up the patchwork quilt and pillow.
She paused to watch a goldfish pond for a really long time. Who knew fish were so fascinating?
Maya and Grandma ran around the maze garden for a little while. It was huge, so I was glad they found there way out :)
This was a departure from our usual Adventure Days, which have mostly explored local parks with lots of unpaved trails and wildlife. (Incidentally, the summer has really gotten away from us, so we haven't met our adventure-per-week goal. We have, though, made lots of time for unfettered, unplanned outdoor play, which was the original point anyway.)
In spite of a harried trek to the opposite side of the metro in a psycho reality of never ending rush hour (Seriously, where do these people think they need to go? I'm trying to get somewhere!), we had a beautiful morning at the arboretum.
I wasn't prepared for the endless miles of beautifully groomed trails and flower beds. August was the perfect choice for a first visit, because everything is in bloom.
My mom and I learned the names of lot of local weeds - I mean, prairie flowers that we will no longer mow over! Maya found a kaleidescope of butterflies (others might call it a swarm, both are correct) and loved running around on the trails.
We didn't get as many pictures as usual, since neither Maya or Elliot stay in one place very long, but here is a sampling.
This was the whimsical house made entirely of growing things. Maya loved the flowers that made up the patchwork quilt and pillow.
She paused to watch a goldfish pond for a really long time. Who knew fish were so fascinating?
Maya and Grandma ran around the maze garden for a little while. It was huge, so I was glad they found there way out :)
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Getting Into It
I haven't really written, except boring grant proposals or blog posts about my girls and our life at home, for the past four years - not surprisingly, this coincides with when I got pregnant with my oldest.
I was afraid getting back into daily writing would just confirm that I had lost the knack, or worse, had only imagined that I had a bit of talent for putting ideas together in unique ways. Only a week ago, though, I decided to give NaNoWriMo a go, forcing myself back into daily writing.
Suddently everything around me is a light bulb, from story topics, to characters in my novel, to potential dialogue. I've spent time this morning looking around for a good "garden recipe" blog, because if I can't find one, I think that Bachman's or Gertens or some other graden center should pay me to write daily recipes that correspond to the burgeoning produce in my back yard. I haven't looked hard, yet. I'm sure a local CSA or Farmers' Market must have something like that....
Anyway, my point is that listening to my inner muse has taught me that I do, in fact, have one. Already I'm exceeding my expectations on this little project.
Yea for me!
I was afraid getting back into daily writing would just confirm that I had lost the knack, or worse, had only imagined that I had a bit of talent for putting ideas together in unique ways. Only a week ago, though, I decided to give NaNoWriMo a go, forcing myself back into daily writing.
Suddently everything around me is a light bulb, from story topics, to characters in my novel, to potential dialogue. I've spent time this morning looking around for a good "garden recipe" blog, because if I can't find one, I think that Bachman's or Gertens or some other graden center should pay me to write daily recipes that correspond to the burgeoning produce in my back yard. I haven't looked hard, yet. I'm sure a local CSA or Farmers' Market must have something like that....
Anyway, my point is that listening to my inner muse has taught me that I do, in fact, have one. Already I'm exceeding my expectations on this little project.
Yea for me!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
She's Got Eggs! We know how to Use Them ;)
Big Birtha and Gladys, our two White Rocks, are officially no longer spring chickens. They're laying hens! (Hmm, Joe's 30th threw me into a bit of an holy-crap-I'll-be-30 mood)
We've found 5 eggs so far. Joe and I found the first egg, brought it in the house during naptime, and then realized how much more fun it would be if Maya found the egg herself. So we replaced it. When she found the egg "that my chickens made me" as she likes to say, she marched into the house and immediately took out the frying pan, and cracked the egg into it.
That first egg was okay, but one scrambled egg doesn't go very far, and I've recently been informed that there is more to scrambling eggs than the classic 'scramble over high-heat method.'
So now we're saving up our eggs for a meal. I'll fill you in on the qualitative difference between store bought and home grown eggs, as well as the double-boiler egg scramble versus the get-er-done method.
For now, we're just enjoying the thrill of the hunt. Yesterday Maya surprised poor Gladys. She came running back from the coop holding a WARM egg, while Gladys came sprinting out of the coop squawking like a cartoon chicken. Hopefully, it didn't scare her too bad, as she appears to have laid another today.
We've found 5 eggs so far. Joe and I found the first egg, brought it in the house during naptime, and then realized how much more fun it would be if Maya found the egg herself. So we replaced it. When she found the egg "that my chickens made me" as she likes to say, she marched into the house and immediately took out the frying pan, and cracked the egg into it.
That first egg was okay, but one scrambled egg doesn't go very far, and I've recently been informed that there is more to scrambling eggs than the classic 'scramble over high-heat method.'
So now we're saving up our eggs for a meal. I'll fill you in on the qualitative difference between store bought and home grown eggs, as well as the double-boiler egg scramble versus the get-er-done method.
For now, we're just enjoying the thrill of the hunt. Yesterday Maya surprised poor Gladys. She came running back from the coop holding a WARM egg, while Gladys came sprinting out of the coop squawking like a cartoon chicken. Hopefully, it didn't scare her too bad, as she appears to have laid another today.
Inklings Transformed
As I've been casting about for ways to improve my writing, I stumbled across the National Novel Writing Month Competition. By competition, I mean you battle your own procrastinating couch potato in order to write 50,000 words of prose in a month, a.k.a. your first novel. The discussion forums and advice of other aspiring or amateur writers helps keep the couch potato at bay.
November is officially NaNoWriMo, and I'm looking forward to joining the 100,000 or so other writers around the world that attempt this. Last year, only around 15,000 writers made the 50,000 word goal. In 2008, I plan to be among them.
With this in mind, I am bravely transforming my lurking blog, Everyday Inklings, into what I originally expected it to be. A tool to get me writing and to keep me writing.
Here I'll detail my NaNoWriMo experience, writer's angst, and the tricks I pick up along the way.
Wish me luck. I've always wanted to complete a novel before I turn 30. The clock is ticking!
November is officially NaNoWriMo, and I'm looking forward to joining the 100,000 or so other writers around the world that attempt this. Last year, only around 15,000 writers made the 50,000 word goal. In 2008, I plan to be among them.
With this in mind, I am bravely transforming my lurking blog, Everyday Inklings, into what I originally expected it to be. A tool to get me writing and to keep me writing.
Here I'll detail my NaNoWriMo experience, writer's angst, and the tricks I pick up along the way.
Wish me luck. I've always wanted to complete a novel before I turn 30. The clock is ticking!
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Little Things That Have No Business Making Me So Happy
1. Morning Glories. I've never planted them before. This year, I read somewhere that they look really cool vining up sunflowers. Now they are vining all over my garden fence, up sunflowers in the front, even up the wild patch of dill that has taken over part of my flower bed. They have taken a while to begin blooming, but they are fantastically cheery, and almost more beautiful because they hide after 11:00am.
2. Cucumbers. I'm on a serious vining kick, with the morning glories, crazy pole beans, and a vining black eyed Susans, but I'm in love with the cucumbers that I've vined around some sunflowers. I've been cautioned that this may kill my sunflowers, but so far they're all growing just fine, and I love the way it looks.
3. Purple Green Beans. They are everyone's favorite. In fact, Maya eats a handful of them raw every time we go outside. They are sweeter than regular green beans, more tender, and incredibly hardy and prolific plants. Plus, they turn green as they cook, so you know exactly when they are the right texture to eat!
4. Elliot in this hat. She looks so grown up!
2. Cucumbers. I'm on a serious vining kick, with the morning glories, crazy pole beans, and a vining black eyed Susans, but I'm in love with the cucumbers that I've vined around some sunflowers. I've been cautioned that this may kill my sunflowers, but so far they're all growing just fine, and I love the way it looks.
3. Purple Green Beans. They are everyone's favorite. In fact, Maya eats a handful of them raw every time we go outside. They are sweeter than regular green beans, more tender, and incredibly hardy and prolific plants. Plus, they turn green as they cook, so you know exactly when they are the right texture to eat!
4. Elliot in this hat. She looks so grown up!
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Saved?
I have my own Jehovah's Witness conversion team.
They come every other week, right at lunch time. This leaves me no possibility of, um, laying low so to speak. As they approach the door they wave to my girls, and it's mostly impossible for me to keep an eye out for their car amid the chaos of feeding my wee beasties.
So we chat. Thankfully I've outgrown my impulse to challenge beliefs I don't agree with, or I would be stuck for who knows how long. Instead, I gracefully accept the latest Watch Tower, receive my bible verse, and internally roar with laughter over the irony of all their effort on the most solidly, emphatically agnostic person I know.
I once heard that they feel horribly guilty whenever they have free time that isn't spent saving the souls of others, as though they were personally sending them to... well, you know. I feel as though I'm offering them a kindness by receiving their information.
My neighbor just thinks I'm starved for adult contact. Whatever...
Maya usually hovers near the door with me, asking all sorts of difficult questions afterwards. Trying to answer her honestly is difficult, and makes me very thankful that we'll be taking her to the Unitarian Universalist Sunday school in St. Paul starting in September. Her preschool class is called Spirit Play and emphasizes stories from many different faiths as a way to learn kindness and respect. Sounds like a good start to me.
They come every other week, right at lunch time. This leaves me no possibility of, um, laying low so to speak. As they approach the door they wave to my girls, and it's mostly impossible for me to keep an eye out for their car amid the chaos of feeding my wee beasties.
So we chat. Thankfully I've outgrown my impulse to challenge beliefs I don't agree with, or I would be stuck for who knows how long. Instead, I gracefully accept the latest Watch Tower, receive my bible verse, and internally roar with laughter over the irony of all their effort on the most solidly, emphatically agnostic person I know.
I once heard that they feel horribly guilty whenever they have free time that isn't spent saving the souls of others, as though they were personally sending them to... well, you know. I feel as though I'm offering them a kindness by receiving their information.
My neighbor just thinks I'm starved for adult contact. Whatever...
Maya usually hovers near the door with me, asking all sorts of difficult questions afterwards. Trying to answer her honestly is difficult, and makes me very thankful that we'll be taking her to the Unitarian Universalist Sunday school in St. Paul starting in September. Her preschool class is called Spirit Play and emphasizes stories from many different faiths as a way to learn kindness and respect. Sounds like a good start to me.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Meet the Chicken Ladies
The residents of Dove il Coop are more than satisfied with their new accommodations.
They have grown a bit more tame, and a bit more fluffy, each day as they work up their courage to eat cracked corn out of Maya's hand in spite of the likelihood of a little rough petting. Joe and I, and even the odd house guest, have handled most of them enough to learn their personalities.
They are officially pets, and unless desperate times arise, they will never see the inside of a stew pot!
Here they are:
This is Maya's chicken. She named her Clementine (with a curious nickname, Gorgo). Poor Clem is easily spooked, which is frustrating for Maya. She is also the only Black Sexlink chicken we've got, and she seems to be a bit lonely. We'll cheer her up though.
Below is a picture of Big Bertha (the White Rock) and Rosie (the Rhode Isle Red named after Lynn Rosetta Casper). It's hard to take a picture of these two when they aren't eating. They are extremely tame, speedy, and greedy.
Here Maya is chasing down Ina (Barefoot Contessa, anyone?). Ina is pretty tame, as well, and she tries to stick with Rosie whenever possible. We have a bit of a racial segregation problem among the ladies. They don't fight, but it does contribute to Clem's grumpy mood, since she doesn't have a partner.
Below is Gladys. She is nearly as timid as Clem, but in her effort to stay near Bertha, she must build up enough courage to come near us. Any quick movement sends her wobbling for the coop, though. Our teenage neighbor, who attended a metro-area grade school that had chickens, believes the White Rocks, Gladys and Bertha, are both nearly ready to lay.
Elliot doesn't get to enter the chicken run all that often, but she finds other ways to entertain herself.
What a summer!
They have grown a bit more tame, and a bit more fluffy, each day as they work up their courage to eat cracked corn out of Maya's hand in spite of the likelihood of a little rough petting. Joe and I, and even the odd house guest, have handled most of them enough to learn their personalities.
They are officially pets, and unless desperate times arise, they will never see the inside of a stew pot!
Here they are:
This is Maya's chicken. She named her Clementine (with a curious nickname, Gorgo). Poor Clem is easily spooked, which is frustrating for Maya. She is also the only Black Sexlink chicken we've got, and she seems to be a bit lonely. We'll cheer her up though.
Below is a picture of Big Bertha (the White Rock) and Rosie (the Rhode Isle Red named after Lynn Rosetta Casper). It's hard to take a picture of these two when they aren't eating. They are extremely tame, speedy, and greedy.
Here Maya is chasing down Ina (Barefoot Contessa, anyone?). Ina is pretty tame, as well, and she tries to stick with Rosie whenever possible. We have a bit of a racial segregation problem among the ladies. They don't fight, but it does contribute to Clem's grumpy mood, since she doesn't have a partner.
Below is Gladys. She is nearly as timid as Clem, but in her effort to stay near Bertha, she must build up enough courage to come near us. Any quick movement sends her wobbling for the coop, though. Our teenage neighbor, who attended a metro-area grade school that had chickens, believes the White Rocks, Gladys and Bertha, are both nearly ready to lay.
Elliot doesn't get to enter the chicken run all that often, but she finds other ways to entertain herself.
What a summer!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Summer Luvin
This year, the dog days of summer are flooding me with nostagia for my own childhood and a sense of euphoria in my own backyard.
So much of my days this summer resemble my life back on the farm: running barefoot on the warm, somewhat crispy grass with the sound of livestock in the background; running cars through newly-built sandbox roads; and getting unintentionally soaked in an impromptu splash fight while watering the flowers.
I'm almost absurdly joyful about my garden. We've had green beans nearely every day this week, along with excellent home grown coleslaw, sauteed squash, and a few cherry tomatoes. I wasn't a big fan of the beets, but everything else has tasted wonderful... and made me unduly proud.
I wonder if every farmer is as skeptical in early spring, when the tiny seeds get dusted with a bit of dark soil and sprinkled gently with water. It seems so unlikely that anything will happen. Every year I find myself reporting that the garden has indeed been planted, but who knows what we'll get.
Then I'm giddy when everything sprouts up. It keeeps growing, with just a bit of fertilizer and some stakes in the right places, usually quite a bit of weeding.
Suddenly it's July, and I'm vining half a dozen plants up half a dozen other, sturdier plants or the fence or a homemade teepee featuring used door frames found on Craig's List.
Finally when the first harvest comes in, with the promise of an endless and overwhelming bounty to come, I feel as though I should package it up and send it to my mom so that she might have something of mine to put on her fridge.
So much of my days this summer resemble my life back on the farm: running barefoot on the warm, somewhat crispy grass with the sound of livestock in the background; running cars through newly-built sandbox roads; and getting unintentionally soaked in an impromptu splash fight while watering the flowers.
I'm almost absurdly joyful about my garden. We've had green beans nearely every day this week, along with excellent home grown coleslaw, sauteed squash, and a few cherry tomatoes. I wasn't a big fan of the beets, but everything else has tasted wonderful... and made me unduly proud.
I wonder if every farmer is as skeptical in early spring, when the tiny seeds get dusted with a bit of dark soil and sprinkled gently with water. It seems so unlikely that anything will happen. Every year I find myself reporting that the garden has indeed been planted, but who knows what we'll get.
Then I'm giddy when everything sprouts up. It keeeps growing, with just a bit of fertilizer and some stakes in the right places, usually quite a bit of weeding.
Suddenly it's July, and I'm vining half a dozen plants up half a dozen other, sturdier plants or the fence or a homemade teepee featuring used door frames found on Craig's List.
Finally when the first harvest comes in, with the promise of an endless and overwhelming bounty to come, I feel as though I should package it up and send it to my mom so that she might have something of mine to put on her fridge.
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