Hawke's View

Treasure Found in the Blog "Near Miscellany - a daily adventure"

2011-04-24T07:22:00.000-07:00

Are you searching endlessly for a well written blog that takes a lighthearted look at a little of everything from DIY, to planting, to recipes, to life with kids and everything in between? You are? Well bless your old cotton socks because so was I... until I ran across this treasure.

It's called Near Miscellany - a daily adventure. (For the link, see My Must Reads.)

The About page reads:

Despite our differences Near Miscellany is written by two similarly cracked nuts. Glitch is a Canadian who can crunch numbers with machine-like abandon and Glyph is an American who breaks out in hives if more than adding is required. We share an inquisitive view of the world that covers music, computers, art, cooking, astrophysics and anything else that grabs our attention. A side effect of this is that we are learning stuff that we think other people might like to know so we’ll serve that up here.

Glitch writes from his igloo in the frozen north, bringing peace to all the distressed computer-using masses. He’s heard the great cry that has gone up to ‘free us from Windows Vista’ and will likewise find other ways to keep the general public from yanking their computer cables out and tossing the machine from a speeding vehicle.

Despite Glyph’s arithmaphobia, she has a long list of magic tricks up her sleeve. She handily takes care of three kids, and hosts an arcane knowledge of cooking that shall enchant even the pickiest. She’s the mistress of practicality, always ready with a Better Way to accomplish something around the house. But best of all, she’s fun, exciting, and full of imagination.

Near Miscellany is mostly no-nonsense (well, maybe a little nonsense!) friendly instruction on everything from home canning, cooking from scratch, making do with little, making your computer run well, and surviving a recession with entrepreneurship and maybe even with panache. There may be a little ranting occasionally but we promise to keep it straightforward and hopefully still useful even if it’s a cautionary tale.

Adorable, yes? You betcha. So why are you still reading this? Get over to Near Miscellany and check it out. Oh, and tell 'em Hawke sent you. :)

The New Guy - his sale video and ad

2011-03-16T15:26:00.000-07:00

Ain't he purdy?

"PD is double registered APHA and PtHA, and is also breeders trust. He is proven and also comes from a pedigree full of champions and APHA points earners. He is trained for Western Pleasure, Trail, and Patterns. He also does showmanship and has his PtHA ROM in Halter and APHA halter points. He is also good to take down the trails, not herd bound nor spooky. PD is a very entertaining horse that is fun to show and be around. Would be suitable for either youth, amateur or novice. Very pretty and correct. Would also make a great 4H horse for a very competitive youth. He is great to bath, clip, haul, tie... all the show prep. Stands 15.2, no vices or bad habits. Great jogger and awesome lope. Not spooky and settles in great at the shows. This horse could take the serious competitor far on the APHA/ PtHA Circuit. Quiet and sane. Has also been used to give lessons to children, beginners and also more advanced riders. Great horse in every way!"

Welcome to our family, Pete.

Christmas Contractor or A DIY For Folks Like Me

2010-12-10T14:18:00.000-08:00

Because my family are coming for the holidays, I figured now would be a good time to get my old bath tub and those eye-sore-hideous surround tiles torn out and replaced. Brilliant, eh? Yes, I know. So I called a contractor. So the contractor came, took a look, and said he’d call back with an estimate. So he called back a few minutes ago and said the job would cost between $6,500 and $8,000.

$8,000? Geez, I’m not talking about building the Taj Mahal or rerouting the Hover Dam here, just replacing the old bath tub and surround. Hello?

After the shock wore off, I called Tub and Tile Magic. You know, the folks who resurface instead of replace tubs and surrounds, which is a green idea (Bonus!) and is also eight times cheaper than the dreaming contractor. Big fat thumbs up. :)

*slight pause for ooos, eees and ahhs*

Ah, but all of this has me thinking...

Take a hard look around your own home. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Are thoughts of updating (at a price that won’t make your better half pass out) dancing in your head? And more, are you as desperate for inspiration and some good DIY words of advice as I am? Then I invite you to take a gander at the latest addition to my ‘Must Read’ list: Thrifty Décor Chick.

Now there’s a woman who's handy, loaded with inspiration, and explains things in a way I get. And I need all of that... since, you know, I’m about as handy, as full of inspiration and as mechanically inclined as a camp toaster.

In Memoriam - Edna Stewart Mitchell

2010-10-24T20:37:00.000-07:00

It was one year ago today—one year since I lost my support, advisor, comrade in trouble, sounding board, confidence builder, luck, best friend and confidante—my mom, Edna Stewart Mitchell.

Loved with a love beyond all telling.
Missed with a grief beyond all tears.

Her favorite poem:

"Trees"

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

—Alfred Joyce Kilmer

To Hell With Your "Winter Wonderland." It's Gonna Be Fricken Cold Outside!

2010-10-24T07:27:00.000-07:00

or
Tis the season to talk... horse blankets!

Everyone has an opinion—don't they? Even about horse blankets. There's the price, of course. And don’t forget durability, looks, layers, comfort, waterproof, if the damn thing will stay on...

I live in central Alberta, baby, and it can get mighty cold here—cold enough to feel guilty over even the thought of one of our many silent minus forty degree nights, me having the audacity to roast chestnuts on an open fire while my horse has Jack Frost nipping at his nose (and neck and chest and back and sides and butt...). Since moving to Florida was out of the question, I got online and researched blankets to death until I found one I felt would keep my horse relatively happy and me relatively guilt free.

Enter the "Weatherbeeta Orican Freestyle Detach-a-Neck Heavy Turnout"
(This is not an advertisement. This is just me saying what I've found.) It might be a bit pricey, but so are vet calls and antibiotics when your horse comes down with pneumonia.

Super strong 1200 denier triple weave, waterproof and breathable outer layer. Features the Freestyle gusset, shoulder dart and full wrap tail flap, Freestyle detach-a-neck, quick clip front closure, and wither relief pad. Warm 360g of polyfill with a hygienic and strong 210D Oxford lining and stainless steel surcingle fittings.

Sure. Whatever. Sounded good enough to try it out last year (sans the neck attachment though; I mean, it's great to have it in case it's needed, but it's just one more thing my boy can get himself hung up with) on my then twenty-seven-year-old gelding who's housed outside 24/7 in a huge wooden-fenced paddock with a large shelter, lots of quality food and plenty of non-frozen water. And I gotta tell you, I'm glad I did. The blanket honestly worked better than I'd hoped. My gelding was warm and dry all winter with no rub marks or tender spots of any kind, anywhere, and the blanket came through without a mark on it.

Would I buy it again? You bet. In a heartbeat. In fact, I am gonna buy it again because I'm in the process of purchasing a second gelding who’ll need one as well. You know. So I can roast chestnuts over an open fire. Guilt free.

Heartbroken

2010-08-22T04:41:00.000-07:00

Of all the things my gorgeous eleven-year-old golden retriever Bramble (aka Bram; aka Bob; aka my little man; aka my boy; aka my shadow and constant companion) has had to deal with in the last nine months (thyroid problems, Cushing’s and then Addison’s disease with no middle ground ever found, weakness in the hind legs, and the most recent being a urinary tract infection), that he could possibly have cancer didn't even occur to me. Until this past Wednesday, that is. And that’s exactly what might take him in the next twenty-four hours.

Why would I blog at a time like this?--you ask. Because I need to do something besides lose my marbles… at least until 4:30 am when they’ll redo the lactate test, the first having come back as 8.8 where normal is 2 or under. If the redo comes back lower than that first, then that means it’s dropping and the prognosis will go up. Conversely, if the lactate test comes back the same or higher, the prognosis will of course be hopeless.

God.

Going back a little. Bram was referred to Calgary’s state-of-the-art C.A.R.E. Center (CARE meaning Calgary Animal Referral and Emergency) by our vet who, because of Bram’s longish list of woes and little improvement, wanted to rule out neurological problems. So off we went on Wednesday and again on Thursday, as the tests were so numerous. And that was when they found a mass

(A MASS)

on his lung, along with a few other things - the urinary tract infection and quibbles about his current medication dosages. With that, a CT Scan was tentatively scheduled for this coming Tuesday.

Then, today, Bram crashed.

It started out innocently enough, so much so that we truly believed it was due to the dosage changes of his medications (add a thyroid pill; lower the Prednisone by one; give antibiotics for the urinary tract infection). First, he lost interest in food shortly after 1 pm. Later, he started breathing slightly harder than normal and wanted out and in without doing anything. At 8:30 pm came the vomiting and discomfort and looking at his stomach. At that, I immediately called CARE and then my own vet, and it was on both their recommendation that I gave Bram one Gravol, then one teaspoon of Pepto-Bismol, then a Prednisone tab. After an hour (okay, so it was less) of no discernible improvement, I called and transported him to Animal Emergency. For my sanity’s sake and as a written record to keep it straight in my mind, here’s the rundown:

Chest X-Ray - confirmed the mass, no fluid in lungs, etc.
BP - normal (Addison’s crisis would show as low)
Heart Rate - on the higher end (Addison’s crisis would show as low)
Temperature - increasing (could be from the infection)
Blood work - electrolytes good
- white blood cell count slightly above normal (could be from the infection)
I-Stat Test - slightly lower but not critical
Lactate - 8.8 (normal is 2 or less) **Potential cause for high number could be cancer or, according to what I read, systemic sepsis**
Bram is currently on nasal oxygen fed via a small tube (which he’s pulling out as quickly as they’re putting it in) and IV fluids.
It’s also possible that the mass is causing systemic effects.

The time is now 4:32 am. That’s how long it’s taken me to write this, now badly my mind is working, how numb I am.

4:32 am… and the call just came. His lactate test is now 6.7. Not that it means he’s out of the woods. Not even close. But at least it dropped.

So, was this crash due to cancer, systemic sepsis, both, or something else entirely? That’s unknown at this point. The only certainties are they’ll keep redoing the test every few hours and I’ll keep doing the only thing I can: hope.

Update: With the white bloodcell count good the vet said it isn't to do with the UTI. It also hasn't to do with his Addison's. That only leaves one thing, and if taken off IV he'll only crash again.

He's too sweet, too special, too kind natured and has too much of a wonderful spirit—the perfect guy; family—to put him through any pain just so I won't have to say goodbye. So I guess the decision is made.

Ah my little man, my sweetie, my heart, my love, my beautiful boy—the best boy in town. No one who ever met you had so much as one bad word to say. I was truly, sincerely blessed to have had you in my life. Meet me at the bridge.

Bramble (Bram)
Sept 29/1998 - Aug 22/2010

Not a mean bone in his body; not one bad memory left behind.
That says so much.
We'll meet again, my beautiful, beautiful boy.

Amazing

2010-08-21T11:53:00.000-07:00

Enjoy. :)

The Great Gopher War

2010-05-10T08:36:00.000-07:00

They’re cute. They’re furry. They’re dangerous.

It’s gopher season here, again. Time to get out whatever nontoxic whatsit that’ll make the ankle breaking hole makers move on (to heaven or the next field, whichever comes first).

So far I’ve tried such things as nailing two decoy owls to the fence (I have a neat story on that; remind me to tell you about it in a little bit), spraying perfume in the hole (namely Oscar de la Renta… which didn’t work for long… but now we have the best smelling gophers on the planet, bar none), cramming their holes with very large rocks (which seems to be the only thing working at the moment), and a whole host of other attempts, some with varying degrees of temporary success, and others which didn’t phase the little bastards one iota.

Now before you go all PETA on me, just remember that I’m an animal lover to the extreme. But when push comes to shove (or rather, gopher’s rights vs. the health of my beloved equines), it’s a no-brainer—Gopher City needs to move by almost any means necessary. In other words, it’s war. Ah, but with other animals around that I want to keep healthy, namely dogs, cats and horses, poison is out of the question. So is hiring the gun toting and possibly inbred neighbor and his two gun toting and possibly inbred sons down the road who, in their kill-spree-delirium, might mistake a horse for said gopher, in which case I’d be the one shooting, would most likely get arrested for attempted murder, and would still be at square one with the gophers.

Dilemmas.

Now, if a few hawks would just move in. Or perhaps some gopher snakes. I have a massive phobia of snakes, but I’ll tell ya I’d welcome them over the gophers, anytime. At least snakes leave when the pickins are few. Gophers, on the other hand, are rarely without pickins, eating roots, trees, grass, plants and, heck, even things you wouldn’t normally suspect—yep they’re not only dangerous to equines, they’re dangerous to each other!

Speaking of which, a friend of mine was terribly late getting to work one day. When asked why, he said all the cars were backed up at the overpass because of a very sweet and sad sight. According to him, a gopher had earlier run out in front of a car and was killed. That wasn’t the sad part. What was, was that its brave little wife/husband/friend/son/daughter gopher attempted a rescue mission by running out, grabbing said dead gopher, and dragging it inch by inch back to safety.

Aww, isn’t that just too sweet?

Well no, not really.

What my friend didn’t know was that gophers are cannibals, the rescue merely grocery shopping. Not that that has any bearing on equines. But the knowledge of it definitely eases my guilt of wanting rid of them.

Gophers: It’s on.

Two Minute Horse Videos From “The Horse dot com”

2010-05-06T16:25:00.000-07:00

Have you been wishing for two minute video explanations of everything from western bit fitting, to checking a digital pulse, to helpful tips and tricks? Yes? Well then I have a present for you. Check out:

http://www.thehorse.com/Videos.aspx?tab=howto

Aww, t'weren't nothin'. *grin*

Plain Jane vs. The Utopia of Kitchen Utopia

2010-03-06T06:21:00.000-08:00

Be honest here. How many of you have walked into a Home Depot and were dazzled by their display of kitchens? Yeah, I know - me too. Especially when compared to my Plain Jane, who, although solid, is as old as my home and about as dazzling as a mouse in a wheat field—no crown molding, no rope trim, no raised or recessed doors, no kick plates, no fancy this or cool that or anyone coming into my kitchen and saying anything even remotely close to a compliment… in passing or otherwise… other than that my kitchen is newly painted and as clean as a pre-surgery operating room. So it’s no wonder I stood openmouthed when facing what I can only be describe as Kitchen Utopia, dramatic music playing in my head and all. Before I knew it, I went crazy via booking an appointment with one of their designers, choosing a kitchen (“The one up front, please… the first one… the one with every goody/feature/amenity known to womankind… the Utopia of Kitchen Utopia… that fawn-glazed jobby with 15% off if I order after February 28th”) and paying $100 to have my old Plain Jane “professionally” measured.

Should I mention here that I’m not exactly a culinary genius? Not that that mattered, I reasoned at the time. With the Utopia of Kitchen Utopia in my home I’d definitely look like one.

I was ecstatic. I was elated. I was losing my mind daydreaming about the Utopia of Kitchen Utopia being picked up and dropped into Plain Jane’s spot. Think of the family gatherings. Think of the Christmases. Think of the crazy neighbors next door who’d see the Utopia coming and talk in fits of jealousy. Think of…

I researched, and then reality set in. There had been problems, and it wasn’t necessarily all Home Depot’s fault (though the majority of it certainly is theirs), I found out, but also the folks Home Depot contracted to install their kitchens who also were—the folks who put in the lowest bid. That, and Thomasville itself. Apparently, many a woman before me had been dazzled at first glimpse of Kitchen Utopia as well as the Thomasville name, and too many of those, even two years later and counting, were still trying to get problems fixed. Needless to say, suddenly the Utopia of Kitchen Utopia wasn’t looking so Utopia. So when Home Depot’s designer called me to finalize and order, I canceled. Besides, what did the Utopia of Kitchen Utopia have that mine didn’t have?--besides looking like a Rolls Royce compared to a K-Car, that is. Trim? I can have that put on. Kick plates? I can have those put on, too. Crown molding? Ditto on the putting on. Fawn glaze and corbels and little feet, and, and, and? Put ’em on, baby. O.K., so Plain Jane will never be Utopia. But she could still (in my mind, at least) look pretty spiffy, and for a fraction of the cost and headache to boot!

Home Depot: Had you taken better care of your customers (as you so vehemently advertise), you would have had my business. Instead, Plain Jane will be getting a makeover in the Spring.

Plain Jane DIY Makeover List:
* Rope accent crown molding above cabinets
* Under cabinet molding
* Either half round rope column legs or split rope molding and split spindle caps (depends on size and availability) on either side of the sink cabinet, with large half round rope column legs (or grape motif corbels) on corners of the island.
* Framing and corner round cut rope molding, for cabinet doors, drawers, and front and sides of the island.
* Kick plate
* Very small square attached to the end of the last cabinet, with rope column legs (or some kind of legs), to station my computer.
* New cabinet hardware (I’m thinking dark and no pulls, just knobs.)
* Repaint the cabinets antique white and try (shudders) my hand at glazing - chocolate, of course.
* Under cabinet lighting

Column legs and corner round and split rope and split spindle caps… Whoosh! Now don't I sound like I know what I’m talking about. Sadly, I don't; I had to look them up.

For the Non DIY part of the DIY:
* Hood. A fancy one. Think Tuscan even, although I’m talking about a much smaller version here. Since I’ve always wanted one of these lovelies, that is one item I refuse to let some idiot with a chainsaw, hammer and a mouthful of nails take a whack at making. Nope, this baby will be manufactured and installed the right way: professionally.
* Backsplash. Now before you start in on me, you know as well as I do that those HTV home shows make everything look disgustingly fast and simple, even though we all know they aren’t. At least they aren’t to a new DIYer like myself. Heck, I recaulked around the washroom countertop the other day, did a great job imo, and was out-of-my-mind overjoyed about it for hours, so what does that tell you? (It should tell you that I don‘t know what I‘m doing.) So nope, the backsplash will be another job left to the professionals.
* And while the professionals are at the backsplash, I’m going to ask them if they can also tackle the flooring, too. Tile is tile, and most, if not all, backsplash installers also install flooring (that’s one thing I did learn from watching all those home shows; thanks Mike Holmes and Bryan Baeumler!)
* Countertops. Naturally.

Too much? Yeah, probably. But hey, if you’re going to go for it, do it as big as you can.

Note: When I said “professional/professionals/professionally,” I didn’t mean the ‘lowball bid boys’ from the big box stores. I mean the real, accredited, BBB rated, guaranteed, insured, ‘know what the hell they’re doing, don’t pass the buck for over two years, and will provide references’ types. Luckily, I learned all of that from others mistakes, not my own.

Note Two: “I do know Thomasville (furniture) does not make the Home Depot sold cabinets. It's a shame. People go there thinking they're getting "furniture" style cabinetry and what they get is far from it.”

“From what I hear, Home Depot bought the Thomasville NAME, then went to Mills Pride (who makes ultra cheapies) and had them produce a cheap line and stick the Thomasville name on it. I despise the box stores for that kind of stuff.”
—both quotes were borrowed from ContractorTalk.com (http://www.contractortalk.com/f74/kraftmaid-cabinetry-62955)

Note Three: Everyone wants the Taj Mahal for $1, especially in today’s economy. I get that, I understand that, and, heck, I’m one of them. The thing is, I'm also a realist who has an outdated kitchen and would like to have it upgraded the right way with the right products and without spending more than my life’s worth to do it. That, and on the TV design show ‘Dear Genevieve’ (that woman is a goddess) the other day, the kitchen cabinets she called “rental style and unsalvageable” looked exactly like my own. How embarrassing.

Note Four: RED DEER HOME SHOW - MARCH 5, 6, 7 - WESTERNER PARK
Ooo, eee, ahh. Check out what I found there: Virtual Stone Solutions (http://www.virtualstonesolutions.ca/index.htm)
If you’ve tried this Granicrete product or know someone who has, I’d sure love to hear from you. (Please do not respond if you are a distributor, have taken the class in, or are in any way affiliated with Granicrete. I'd like to hear from consumers only.)

Also, check out your local Habitat For Humanity ReStore (http://habitat.ca/findarestorep1380.php). There, you’ll find huge discounts off both the new and used and support your community at the same time!

The Daily Giggle

2010-02-13T07:41:00.000-08:00

Are you in desperate need of a grin and/or giggle today? Then check out:

T-Shirt War!

You're welcome. :)

TAPS - Ghost Hunters - Honest or The Shell Game?

2010-01-17T11:18:00.001-08:00

I like a good chill as well as the next woman, so it should come as no surprise that one of my favorite shows on TV is Ghost Hunters. You know what they do. Each week TAPS (The Atlantic Paranormal Society) team members Steve Gonsalves, Dave Tango, Chris Williams and Ami Bruni, along with co-founders Jason Hawes and Grant Wilson, investigate "haunted" places and try to either debunk claims of the paranormal, or capture evidence of it.

Too cool, isn’t it? And even better, supposedly it’s all on the up-and-up...

... or is it?

Lately, their own viewing audience has done a little debunking of their own, trying to debunk the debunkers via dangling tantalizing evidence on youtube of what they’ve deemed as questionable content—ie: among others, the ol’ ‘fishing-line-running-from-the-coat-collar-to-the-pocket-and-giving-it-a-tug-to-make-it-look-like-a-ghost-grabbed-you’ routine. And maybe they’re right. Of course, I say this after watching repeated (ad nauseam) shots of Grant's oddly moving collar from every conceivable angle and speed, along with the usual assortment of directional arrows and highlight circles in every color of the rainbow. Heck, two women went so far as to demonstrate how it could be done without anyone—including a video camera close-up—being the wiser (and did a very good job of it, I must add).

Makes you think, donnit? And as a viewer, once you start thinking, you start questioning. Once you start questioning (especially questioning the credibility of a supposedly honest show), then you stop believing everything they show. Once you stop believing, you eventually stop watching and move on to something less a waste of your time... like, say, making wire jewelry, perhaps. Or, heck, writing! But is that what happened here? Truthfully, how would I know. But I will say this: writing is akin to a perceived true and honest TV show. Once the reader or viewer catches the author/story/TV show in a lie, they’ll drop it like a rancid bagel. Why? Because the trust is gone, and with it, credibility.

Take, for instance, my dad. He loved carnivals as a kid, couldn’t wait for them to come to town. So when one did, he was one of the first in the gate... and straight to “The Shell Game.” You know, the one where the carnie has three overturned shells side-by-side on a table, drops a pea and covers it with one of the shells, slides the shells around (all the while talking your ear off), then asks you to pick which shell the pea is hiding under. Simple, you’d think. Honest, too, you‘d think. So my dad watched for a while and then moved to the front of the line. When it was my his turn, the pea dropped, the shells slid around sufficiently, dad said to the carnie, "The pea is still between your fingers!” and the angry voice of the carnie answered, “Get this kid off the grounds.” Of course, everyone walked away, and that was the last seen of The Shell Game in Springhill, Nova Scotia.

I can’t help wondering how much of Ghost Hunters is honest and how much is The Shell Game. Whatever the answer, here‘s a word of advice for TAPS members: stick with honesty. Your viewers are not stupid. They also are not forgiving.

PS: Since it's very hard to know the real from the fake (if TAPS has had anything real, that is), I'm officially done with TAPS. Even one instance of falsehood in the paranormal arena—an area already steeped in controversy and skepticism—casts falsehood on the lot. Folks don't tune in to such shows to hear snake oil salesmen. What they want, what they're looking for, is proof and the truth.

2009: The worst year, ever

2009-11-27T05:52:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a year that will live in infamy as being the one you’d most rather have pulled a ‘Rip Van Winkle’ than be awake through?

Sure you have. We all have... or will. And 2009 is mine.

First, I was rear ended at a stoplight by not one but two vehicles (a moving van hit the half ton behind me, linking them at the bumpers before hitting me... if that makes any sense), which totaled my Jeep. After that came the age related woes of my highly intelligent and “sweetest little girl to humans and May West-like to other horses” thirty-two-year-old mare Bear, a cancer scare and surgery for me and, a month later, emergency surgery of a family member. Then a family member took a big hit from the dreaded “Downsizing Disease” (ten years at a great job literally one minute, and unemployment and a “I’m sorry, but that’s the way it goes” the next). But the twin topper was the most devastating of all: the sudden and unexpected but thankfully peaceful passing of my wonderful Mom on October 24th at approximately 3 pm, and, after “telling” me it was her time to go, the peaceful vet-assisted passing of 'my sweetest little girl' Bear (Pokey Bear Sadie) yesterday evening (Nov 24th) at approximately 6 pm.

Heartfelt thankyous go to Dr. McIntyre and the emergency crew of Red Deer, Alberta, for their compassion and heroic efforts with regard to my mom, and to veterinarians Dr. Grant and Dr. Rick, farrier Steve Harris, and Dennis Costen for their compassion and heroic efforts with regard to Bear.

I'll be infinitely glad when 2009 is over.

This is racist?

2009-10-19T14:13:00.000-07:00

Seriously? Okay, so what am I missing? If this is racist and has been pulled off the shelves, then I gotta wonder what else is considered racist. Maybe this...

to the Witch communty.

Or this...

to the ‘Hairy Guys and the Women Who Love Them’ group.

Or this...

Oops, now how did that pic get in here? *ahem* But while we’re on the subject, this goes out to all you Twilight fans: THIS is a vampire!

A little horse advice to a beginner

2009-10-12T05:41:00.000-07:00

So I was browsing through Craigslist today and stumbled across the following post:

horse advice (south shore)
looking to get a horse, but dont know anything about caring for it, if you can give me some advice as in how big a stall has to be and how much it costs to upkeep a horse that will be great. thanks
http://boston.craigslist.org/sob/grd/1417217513.html

Hey, at least this person asked first!

My advice? Don't get a horse unless you're first willing to take a ton of riding lessons with a qualified instructor and work at a reputable stable (gratis, if needs be) for at least a year.

Horses, even the free or cheap ones, are terribly expensive and are a huge commitment (mentally, physically, emotionally, and most certainly financially). They aren't something to be taken lightly nor started on a lark. Learn. Do your research. Ask questions. Find out about things like dental care (once a year at over one hundred per), farrier care (every six weeks at roughly $35 per trim... and that's for a regular barefoot trim—if you want shoes, they could run you a heck of a lot more), vaccinations (yearly for life—could run as high as $200 per year, depending), deworming costs (at least $20 every five weeks for life), boarding (as low as $125 per month to as high as several hundred per month, depending on the area, if the horse is to be inside or outside, and what the stable has to offer), specialized feed if necessary (boarding facilities only provide the basics, so there might be another hundred or more per month extra). And that's just the beginning! Add a minimum of $2,000 - $3,000 you'll need to set aside per year for misc. vet costs and the like (horses have accidents and they’re rarely cheap to fix!). Then there's the obvious, such as a helmet, saddle, bridle, saddle pad, brushes, hoof pick, blankets, fly spray, salt block, mineral block, buckets, halters (always have an extra one handy), lead ropes (again, extra), shipping boots, a trailer, riding lessons (yep, you'll still need that), possible training for your horse, a tack box... and the list goes on and on. Hey, horse owners don't call ourselves "horse poor" for nothing!

Oh, and if you're planning on keeping a horse at home, there's most of the above, plus straw (or shavings) and excellent quality hay (at the very least 250 bales of hay for one horse per year x whatever the price is where you live... here, it's gone up to around $8 to $10 plus, per bale) and a safe place to store it (away from where your horse is, as it could catch fire and kill the animal). And don't forget proper fencing (NOT BARBED WIRE or those damned T-posts!), a run-in shelter, a 12 x 12 box stall (which you'll have to clean out daily) which is made to specs and is safe and properly ventilated (or the horse could get the heaves, severely injured, or even killed), oats or specialized feed, a large water tub for outside (you'll have to clean that out every week as horses need access to clean fresh water no matter if they're inside and outside... unless they've just had a workout—then they need to be walked out and cooled down dry before being given water or they could founder), water buckets for inside the stall (also clean those out at least every week), a pitch fork, shovel, rake, broom, hoses, wheel barrow or muck bucket, safe stall mats (those can be really expensive!), a way to get rid of manure (to limit insects and disease, and because most counties have specific rules about that), rubber floor pans (to feed oats or special feed), water (of course), barn lights (of course), insurance, etc., etc. Not to mention the time involved in doing all of that plus grooming the horse from top to bottom every day, feeding at least twice a day, keeping all areas spotless, checking daily for anything sticking out (nails, etc., that could cut a horse), walking the entire pasture daily to check for gopher holes, loose boards, stray binder twine. And again, that list goes on and on.

Most people love horses. Most people want horses. No person should own horses unless they can afford them and know what they‘re doing. Why? Because too many good, sound horses end up at slaughterhouses, or worse—crippled, starved, ruined and in agony for life. Not to mention your own safety! If you're determined to get a horse, do the horse, and yourself, a favor and learn (through a ton of riding lessons with a qualified instructor and working at a reputable stable for at least a year) as much as you can first, first hand and not through some internet site or via some know-nothing idiot, so you'll know what you're getting into and so you can give a horse a good life.

Life, by the way, can be around thirty years or more.

ALERT: Stolen Horse in Alberta, Canada

2009-10-10T20:37:00.001-07:00

As some of you might know, I live in Alberta, Canada. So when I read a post today on Fugly horse of the day about a stolen horse in Alberta, I naturally had to jump on it to try to help spread the word. Please listen up.

If you are in Alberta, Canada please be on the look out for this stolen horse! This two year old filly disappeared from her pasture and we are VERY concerned that she may show up at an auction. If you see her at one or advertised for sale, please immediately call 780-722-4833. Thank you!

If you have seen this filly, do the right thing and call the number. Let's get her home!

Update: This filly is home safe. She was deliberately let out by Bad Neighbors, recognized and intercepted at the auction house, and brought home. Thank goodness!

Applauding Good Farriers/For The Love of Old Mac’s Boots/Another Reason Not To Rein

2009-09-30T12:11:00.000-07:00

There are a ton of things we horse owners can physically do to keep our four-legged family members healthy, as well as a ton we cannot do and so have to rely on the expertise of others. Trimming/shoeing, for most of us, falls into the latter category. So today, I thought I’d tout the expertise and ingenuity of the good farrier—that highly regarded, highly sought after and often unmentioned guy or gal who goes to extraordinary lengths to keep our beloved equines comfortable.

I’ve spoken about Bear—my thirty-two-year-old Quarter Horse mare—several times on this blog, but haven’t really gotten into her goings-on, so I figure now’s as good a time as any. To look at her, you’d swear she was in her prime. Inside, however, is a whole other story. It all started long before I purchased her, when her previous owner sent her as a four or five-year-old to some big-name whoop-dee-do reining trainer.

Yes, I said reining, and yes, it might ruffle a few reining-lovers. So it goes.

This summer, stiffness and slight lameness increasing to dead lameness forced a vet visit along with his portable x-ray machine. What he found was a very old torque fracture in Bear’s left carpus (knee) which had healed years ago and had over calcified, along with a bone spur and a few other odds and ends. In Dr. Rick’s own words: “This is the type of injury that likely nobody noticed when it happened, but eventually shows up big time.” Then he dropped the other shoe, saying, “It’s common in reining horses.”

Common! Well if that doesn’t give you a reason not to rein, I don’t know what will. Oh, and just to clarify: I’m a Western and English Pleasure person, not a reining person, so I had never practiced nor shown Bear in reining... although I heard she could spin on a dime and slide like a toboggan on ice. Of course, if I had reined her, no doubt she would have been in far worse shape than she is now and it would have showed up far earlier, like in her prime. But anyway...

So what has all of this got to do with a farrier?--you ask. Hang on, I’m getting to it.

We started Bear on intra-articular injections right then and there, and they worked like a charm. She’ll never be 100% of course (she’s still a little stiff and always will be), but the pain and lameness disappeared... until trouble started again, this time with her right front hoof. Out came the vet (again) with his x-ray machine (again), and this time the x-rays showed nothing—no rotation, no degrading, no anything. (Thank goodness.) The diagnosis: a high abscess. The cure: Epsom salts soakings, Epsom salts poultices, and shoes. Ah, but how do you nail shoes onto a stiff-kneed, sore-hoofed horse without causing even more pain?

You don’t. You use Old Mac’s Multi Purpose Horse Boots (Original) with Comfort Padding instead, along with some vet wrap around the pasterns to prevent rubbing. Bear takes a size 6. And yes, she wears them 24/7, save for taking them off every 24 hours to check the hoof as you normally would, the boot for debris that might have fallen inside, and to change the vet wrap. Easy as hell to size (place hoof on a sheet of paper, trace the outline, take the outline to a tack store and have a knowledgeable employee measure to fit), easy as hell to put on and take off (just don‘t forget to put your finger between the horse’s pastern and the internal velcro fastener when cinching it up in order to give a little breathing room), easy as hell for Bear to walk in, and she‘s never lost one yet. I seriously love these boots and highly recommend them. (By the by, I tried the Epsom salts poultice/gauze/diaper, vet wrap/duct tape boot thingy for about three weeks prior to the Old Mac‘s, but Bear was still pretty darn sore with it. Not to mention that the amount of time with her knee bent and the other leg holding her up sure didn’t help matters.)

Ah, but who gave me the heads-up on Old Mac’s?

Why, my farrier, Steve Harris, of course.

(See? I told you I was getting to him.)

Did I mention that previous to this whole ordeal, when she was just a little stiff in the knees, that Steve was trimming Bear’s hooves via sitting on the ground with her hoof in his lap so she wouldn’t have to bend her knees too much and he therefore wouldn’t cause her as much pain? Now that’s a farrier who goes above and beyond, let me tell you; a rare one who’s actually concerned about the welfare of the horse.

More, we found that Bear, in trying to take the weight off her abscessed front right (during the interm between the duct tape boot thingy and the Old Mac’s), had strained her opposite hind leg through overcompensating. That was when the real farrier fun started. Poor Steve. There he was (even with the Old Mac’s boots and pads by then, which made my mare’s fronts sound and comfortable), with Bear needing to practically sit on him to have her hind hooves trimmed. I mean, Steve is a pretty strong guy and all, but let’s not forget Bear weighs around eleven-hundred pounds! So what did Steve do? He staggered over to his truck and came back with something so simple and worked so well that it was forehead slapping—a wide roll of duct tape and a square sponge. Lay the duck tape on its side, place the sponge over it, place hoof on top, and trim while kneeling on the ground. Voila! Well, it’ll do at least until her hind leg strain heals. By the way, I told Steve that if he ever tried to move, I’d hunt him down and drag him back—he’s that good.

Currently, the abscess is ready to break, the boots are doing famously, and Steve is still worth his weight in gold. Good farriers like Steve Harris (who hails from Alberta, Canada)—you gotta love ‘em.

When should I start riding my horse?

2009-08-16T08:56:00.000-07:00

About a gazillion years ago, I asked our so-called qualified vet that very question regarding our then coming two-year-old and was told (word for word): “He’s a lot stronger than he looks, so go ahead.”

That has to be the single worst piece of horse advice in the history of bad horse advice, and I’ll tell you why. 1) No young horse is stronger than it looks, and of course it isn’t; no matter what it looks like on the outside, it’s still a baby on the inside. 2) Any vet who tells someone that is a moron.

Instead of talking to myself for the next twenty pages (since I doubt horse folks who’ve made up their minds and/or have their own agendas and reasons for doing things will listen to little-ol’ me), I’ll just post a link to
Deb Bennet’s (Ph.D.) study on equine skeletal development

Read it; repeat it; print copies off and hang them up in your barn or leave them on the table in your Boarder’s Lounge or pass them out at your kid’s local 4-H or Horse Club meeting. Futurities be damned; I want my horses alive and sound beyond the eight-year-old mark.

I don't think so, Doc

2009-08-08T09:21:00.000-07:00

Well, I’ve met with the specialist, had a biopsy (here’s a word of advice: “A little pressure” is doctor jargon for “excruciating pain”), gone in for my pre-op blood work and had a CA125 test. Now, as long as I don’t catch a cold, the surgery will take place on August 24th.

Oh yes, and the doc advised me to quit smoking at least ten days before surgery.

Quit smoking? He must be joking. As if my nerves aren’t shattered enough at the myriad of horror stories one hears about surgery—being awake throughout and unable to tell anyone; dying on the table because the doctor is a quack, or because the anesthesiologist is a quack, or because the doctor is making google-eyes with Nurse Buxom, or because the anesthesiologist is making google-eyes at Nurse Buxom, or because the doctor and anesthesiologist are making google-eyes at each other; dying in recovery because that Nurse Buxom is in the janitor closet with the doctor and anesthesiologist instead of monitoring my stats; dying because the anesthesiologist doesn’t know that my veins have a tendency to collapse with such force as to shoot catheters across rooms like lethal ninja weapons, perhaps killing said doctor, nurse and anesthesiologist, leaving me to bleed to death before the surgery has even begun; waking up at my own autopsy.

I’m kidding of course. I don’t really believe any of that. I’m just a Fiction writer who's a little neurotic when it comes to anything medical. I know nothing will happen before, during, or after the surgery. Ah, but just in case, I won’t be quitting smoking anytime soon.

Michael Jackson

2009-07-07T09:34:00.000-07:00

1958 - 2009

Goodbye. And thank you.

Mr. Jackson once asked “Why are people so mean?”

Good question. And with all the crying while leaving cards and flowers, signing billboards, and screaming I-love-you's now that the man is dead, an equally good question might be: Where was all the love when he was alive?

People are flocking to his memorial right now, squealing about winning tickets and acting like they’re about to see a concert, when a man - son; brother; friend; father; icon; consummate entertainer; humanitarian - has died. Family and those who knew him personally are hurting, and will for a long time. Some respect please, public and media alike.

"Smile, though your heart is aching..."

My heart goes out to the family and friends of Mr. Jackson.

With sincere condolences,
Hawke

Hawk Horse Trailers

2009-07-04T09:00:00.000-07:00

Oh Momma, I want this (and not just because of the name, either)

NEW 2009 HAWK 2H BP DR $12,800
BRAND NEW 2009 CUSTOM HAWK 2 HORSE BUMPER PULL WALK THROUGH W/ DRESSING ROOM
BRAND NEW 2009 CUSTOM HAWK 2 HORSE BUMPER PULL WALK THROUGH W/ DRESSING ROOM. 2 3,500# AXLES 22-1/2 UP. ST20575R15(C)TIRES 5 ON 4-1/2. BULKHEAD WINDOW, CARPET ON BH WALL HALF, RUNNING BOARDS, 20x24 WINDOWS IN STORM DOORS, BREAST/BUTT BAR PADS, DIAMOND PLATE FULL LENGTH ON FENDERS, DIAMOND PLATE ON NOSE 18" HIGH. WHITE BODY WITH BLACK ROOF, FRAME AND FENDERS AND BLACK HAWK VINYL STRIPE. (white)
SEE MORE PICTURES ON OUR WEBSITE AT
www.tantivytrailer.com

but I live in Alberta, Canada.

Check out: http://www.hawktrailers.com/
And a review: http://www.mrtrailer.com/hawk.htm

Why don’t they have a dealership in “Horse Country” (that’s slang for Alberta)?

Just asking.

EDIT: On second thought, with all the horror stories you hear about spooky and/or young horses getting hung up on the chest bar and such, I think I'll just stick with my newly redone tried-and-true WW two horse straight load.

Part Two of "People Doing Terrible Things"

2009-06-09T07:28:00.000-07:00

Todd Shevan Williams—Animal Cruelty and Bastard Deluxe

I read Fugly Horse of the Day yesterday, a blog new to me (Where have I been?) and likely well known to everyone else. The post there broke my heart and made me see red at the same time. It was about horrific animal cruelty at the hands of an evil bastard named Todd Shevan Williams.

Fugly asked folks to send a carefully worded e-mail to the prosecutor and listed the address. It also gave a link to the ongoing story about the poor horses this arse cheek starved nearly (and in two cases, did) to death, and to the wonderful folks at Beauty’s Haven Equine Rescue who are trying to save them. To read the whole story, follow the link, start at the bottom and work your way up. Warning: Kleenex is definitely required.

Tell me, Mr. Todd Shevan Williams, what planet are you from when you think tree bark is in any way a replacement for hay or even grass? I mean—come on!—I know some horses seem to live on air, but... really? Hello? Or maybe you just didn’t know. So I’m wondering which is it—are you a brainless bastard or an evil bastard? Guess the jury’s still out on that one... though not for much longer, if you get my drift. Of course, if they only let you eat your prison cot mattress, maybe you’ll clue in on what you did to those poor horses.

As for me, I’m always happy to spread the word. Especially if it helps put a sumbitch like Tom Shevan Williams behind bars where he belongs.

Blessings to Beauty’s Haven Equine Rescue . If you, Dear Readers, can help these fine people to help these fine horses by... say... giving them an amount equal to a week of your morning Starbucks coffee or your dinner out/takeout, or by selling something you no longer want (NOT YOUR HORSE!) and donating the sale to them, or even by putting in for one of their many raffles, then please do. Doing good will do you good, and these angel-folks most certainly deserve it.

An AQHA Oxymoron = Humane Slaughter

2009-05-27T19:10:00.000-07:00

Okay, here’s something for you.
Please pay particular attention to the following (my comments will be in brackets):

“The end for horses sent to one of the U.S. slaughter plants was anything but humane, according to the HSUS. The regulations meant to protect them were inadequate as the horses suffered from a lack of food and water on crowded trailers, and the euthanasia was often mishandled (Mishandled? You mean they often... missed? Ugh! But what better way to show old Blue—who trusted you with his life and had given you everything he could and then some—that you love and respect all he’s done for you than to fill his last moments (or hours?) with terror and screaming agony? How lovely.), the organization claims. Rather than being slaughtered, HSUS says, unwanted horses can be placed with a rescue (As long as they check out and are credible/responsible) or retirement facility (Again, check them out first) or, when no other options are available, humanely euthanized.” (Absolutely! That’s what I’ve been saying for ages, isn't it?)

Oh yes. And here's a little something else to chew on.

Gee, I use Invermectin, too. *tisk* Thank goodness!

I hope they make about as much profit as the Saskatchewan plant, I really do.

Yah gotta love it.

**Warning: Sensitive folks like me will want to skip this.**

(Thank you to coeurdefer for pointed out the following.)

To folks who still believe horse slaughter is “humane," might I direct you to this.

Now before you get your lead line in a twist, go to comments and scroll down to the three-in-a-row posts by Lin - March 30, 2009, 10:54am, “statement from a horse slaughter worker...Who's tne nut around here?” (Hope Lin doesn’t mind me using this).

This post makes my point about horse slaughter, public outcry, and members being guilty by association in the court of public opinion (when the public reads it... and they should). It also made me sick to my stomach.

Do you think this kind of thing won’t happen in new slaughterhouses? Think again. Inspectors and ASPCA won’t be standing there all day and don’t try to tell me they will. Criminal acts? Absolutely. An isolated incident? No way. Watch a video on horse slaughter. Or better yet, go to a horse slaughterhouse and watch what happens. See the way the animals react to the sounds and smells, and in what shape and in what way they meet their so-called “humane” demise. And while you’re there, remember that John Q Public’s perception of slaughterhouses is what’s going to matter—a perception that will forever be linked to the AQHA (the association that’s publicly pushing for it and its members).

Yep, slaughterhouses are a fine way to promote the breed, innit?

Still determined to get rid of your arthritic, unusable thirty-something horse, are you? Here’s an idea. Have him humanely euthanized and THEN call the truck.

And while we‘re on the subject...

Horse Slaughter Plants in Canada

1. BOUVRY EXPORT CALGARY LTD.
Head Office
#312 222-58th Avenue S.W.
Calgary, Alberta Canada T2H 2S3
403-253-0717
403-259-3568 (fax)
bouvryca@telusplanet.net

Owner: Claude Bouvry
Two Locations: Alberta and Quebec
Maintains feedlots in Shelby, MT and
Fort Macleod, Alberta, Canada

2. VIANDE RICHELIEU, INC.
Richelieu Meat, Inc.
595, rue Royale C.P. 101
Massueville, Québec Canada JOG 1KO
450-788-2667
450-788-2622 (fax)
courrier@vianderichelieu.com

Shame on you, Canada. You can set an example and send a message to the world at the same time. Go for it. Stop horse slaughter. Make us proud.

Petition - End Horse Slaughter in Canada Now

Guilt By [American Quarter Horse] Association?

2009-05-25T09:42:00.000-07:00

You know, it’s hard enough to think about horses getting slaughtered to make room for more, more, more (as in the AQHA making more money via more registration fees and more membership fees by getting rid of what's already here), much less realize an association as massive and well known as the AQHA—one who actually took steps to amend some of their rules to the benefit of horses... or was that only to quell public outcry?—have so little regard for their breed and all the regard for the almighty dollar that they advocate it. That begs the question: When they (the AQHA leadership) shot themselves in the foot because of it, did they also paint targets on their members, too?

Let’s think about this. In the court of public opinion, owners of Quarter Horses/members of AQHA, and the association itself, are one and the same. So, guilt by association. An example might be the anti-fur movement, where folks didn’t just target furriers but the individuals wearing it, to the point were people who owned it (even the homeless!) wouldn’t be caught dead in it. Now, instead of fur, it’s horse slaughter advocated by the Quarter Horse Association—the very association that’s suppose to tout and protect the breed, not push for the slaughter of it. What will the public think of its members now? They’ll never know who agreed or disagreed with it, and they won’t stop to ask, either. One and the same, remember? Members are AQHA. Members did this. Members are the heartless bastards who will ride it AND eat it, baby. Hi ho Silver... and don’t forget the ketchup.

Let’s take a moment to let this sink in.

Can you say “manipulated” (as in even the pro-slaughter members were manipulated into thinking this was a good thing when all the while it was a money making venture from the beginning, something where everyone (including the cattle ranchers who are all set up and eager to turn into horse meat ranchers) wins EXCEPT the horse), folks? I know you can.

I hate being manipulated. I hate being told one thing and find out it’s a whole other ballgame (or is that ‘market‘?). I hate being guilty by association, and I particularly hate that the Quarter Horse association painted its own members as targets.

By the way, how much do you think the AQHA cares about their breed when they’re advocating slaughtering them? Just curious.

Oh. And while we‘re here, let this sink in too.

And so it begins (note the blog’s name... and good on the blog owner for coming up with it and speaking out!). But that’s not what I’m talking about here. What I am, is pointing out that a really bad situation CAN get far worse. Yep, seems everyone’s jumping on the band wagon, including cattlemen who are being encouraged to see horse slaughter as yet another opportunity (others before being buffalo and elk, though with horses it’s a different ballgame, horses being an already established market—if they can’t sell it here, they’ll just ship it to Europe) to make a buck.

So what's the alternative to slaughter? Stop backyard indiscriminate breeding. Stop thinking of horses as disposable. You bought it so you look after it for life. If you can't, then sell it to someone reputable who can. And, God forbid, if something happens to the horse to necessitate its death, be strong enough to euthanize it instead of shipping it. At least that's my opinion.

***

Important Note regarding the following:
Well, I was going to do a post about “emotional women” (("The AQHA leadership has always been pro-slaughter, and when their own polls revealed their membership wasn't, their own president blamed the results on ‘emotional women.’”)

I read it, quoted it, was sure I'd cited the right link to it... but it seems I was mistaken. (Hmm.) Therefore, I cannot in all good conscience leave it up. To those who have quoted it and to those it might have hurt: My sincere apologies. If I do happen to find the link again (and if it's out there, I will), rest assured I will repost it.

For the love of old horses

2009-05-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

We love and enjoy our old friends. They’ve seen us at our worst (sans makeup, our hair a mess, in our pajamas or bundled in so many layers we barely resemble a human being—those times when we wouldn’t allow people to see us) and best, and greet us with the same enthusiastic welcome, no matter which. They aren’t the fashion police. They don’t care what we look like or how much money we make (unless it effects their feed/care). They just want us, for us. Too bad people weren’t like that.

Like I said in yesterday's post, I have two older horses, both happily retired and neither EVER having to worry about seeing the inside of an auction or slaughterhouse. They are family. Happy to see me no matter what I look like or what I might offhandedly say. And like I also said yesterday, they are not disposable, nor will they be “removed” to make room for new and brighter and better. Only when there is room (God, I am so NOT looking forward to that day) will I consider getting another. Meantime, they’ll get the best care available and all the love and cookies I can give. Goodness knows they deserve it. After all, they’ve put up with me for... how long?

So that brings me to this question: Does anyone have a horse older than Bear, my thirty-two year old Quarter Horse mare?

Just curious.

The Shame of AQHA - It's all about the money, honey.

2009-05-21T07:40:00.000-07:00

So I was browsing the internet today and happened across this little gem:
AQHA Official Celebrates Pending Slaughter of Quarter Horses

Are you f**king kidding me? Oh, this will do wonders for the breed. To hell with standards. Instead of focusing on actually improving the breed by trying to stop backyard breeders (discouraging indiscriminate breeding (and registering) and flooding the market with the crap, the poor and the damned), let’s instead concentrate on shoveling money into the AQHA coffers (via registration and new member fees) and “killing off existing Quarter Horses to make room for more.” In other words, improvements and standards? We don’t need no stinkin’ improvements or standards. We just need more!

Yeah, right.

And while we’re on the subject, “the next major AQHA effort will be to try to defeat the federal legislation that will end the slaughter of American horses; HR 503, The Prevention of Equine Cruelty Act of 2009.”

This is AQHA's idea of something good for the breed?

I think my head is going to explode.

The slogan “Let freedom ride” should add the words "[until we decide to] look at ways to introduce an equine economic stimulus package that will boost registration numbers." (The quoted are AQHA's then executive vice-president Bill Brewer's words, not mine.) To hell with the horse, the breed, the standards, and the promotion... unless by promotion and "other ways" the AQHA means Quarter Horses: Versatility now also includes making a darn good sandwich.

I own two Quarter Horses (or do they own me?)—a thirty-two year old mare and a twenty-seven year old gelding. Both did their time in the show ring (I prefer open shows, though we did a bit in breed), both won a truckload of ribbons and trophies (High Point and Super Horse, etc., etc.), both have given me more than I could ever repay, and both have earned their retirement ten fold. They will never see the inside of a slaughterhouse or auction; they’ll live and die right here with me. They are NOT “disposable.” They are family.

I'm also desperately seeking info about Faleh (Falah)

2009-05-19T21:55:00.000-07:00

Okay, I’m going to spell this wrong so please don’t go by what you read. I’m looking for information about Shanayn’s (sp? Pronounced: Shaw-nayns) Faleh, a registered ¾ Arabian gelding purchased from me by a young woman named Nancy who lived in Manitoba, Canada. (I’d name the town, but as you can tell by the lack of Nancy’s last name, I can’t remember it). Faleh is (or was?) a flashy chestnut with a white blaze and socks. Nancy’s sister also bought a grey around the same time. Nancy sent me a winter picture of her and Faleh shortly after purchase, and I visited him once.

Nancy, if you’re reading this, or if anyone has any information about Nancy and Faleh, I’d dearly love to hear it. You can use the “Contact Me” link in the sidebar on the left, or email me directly at hawkewriter@hotmail.com

Thank you so much.

Looking for The Brady's from Dryden, Ontario, Canada (re: Dinah)

2009-05-19T21:24:00.000-07:00

Okay, this is only going to sound a little weird to everyone but the folks this is meant for.

I’m looking for Mrs. Laurie Brady, Jill Brady or Brent Brady, (formerly?) of Arbour Jade Farm, Dryden, Ontario. These are, or were, horse people, and this is regarding a sweet little bay pony named Dinah.

If anyone knows them or knows of them, could you please either direct them to this post or give me a shout? If they are reading this themselves, could you please contact me? (See “Contact Me” under my profile for the link, or email me at hawkewriter@hotmail.com)

Thank you so much.

Are you a member of writingforums.com (Writing Forums dot com / WF) and can’t get on the site?

2009-04-22T09:32:00.000-07:00

You aren’t alone.

Quotes from two different sources (I hope they don’t mind). Source one:

I don't understand how anyone is getting in. Four versions of IE, 5.0, 6.0, 7.0, and 8.0, Firefox 2 and 3, Google Chrome, Avant and Opera are unable to get in. I tried the AOL browser and even tried a vintage Nutscape browser for grins and no dice. The only thing I have left is an ancient copy of Mosaic but I don't think that'll resolve the protocols.

And

I've tried getting in with every browser at my disposal (quite a few) and no go. I got a pm yesterday, so someone is able to get in...but not me. Haven't been able to access since @4 am Sunday morning.

Source two:

WF is not working for me either. It's not loading in Firefox or IE, so I'm guessing the server crashed or something; I recall Adrian talking about server problems earlier.

As for myself…

Here's a little sumpin sumpin. Currently, I can't get on WF. Well, I suppose I can, if you want to be technical about it, but all I get is a white screen. So I called my Shaw cable tech guy today, and he said it sounds like the site is blocking me for some reason rather than my computer blocking it. (My firewall, cookies and all are fine/gone/disabled/whatever he had me do.) In fact, WF is the only site on the web I can't get into.

I can only imagine the amount of people who are having the same problem getting on WF (writingforums.com / writing forums dot com) as we three. For those who are and are looking for a port to ride out this latest storm, or for those who are just plain fed up with WF.com and are looking elsewhere, might I suggest Writing Discussions.

Writing Discussions is Selorian and valeca’s baby. It has tons of workshops and an owner who genuinely cares and stays on top of things. I know! Incredible, isn’t it?

So if you’re like we three and need a port or second home, check out Writing Discussions.

What do you mean “Adding some Tuscan to your kitchen is a lot like writing”?

2009-04-03T20:52:00.000-07:00

The more I work at getting the house ready to paint, the more I’m convinced that the main thing you really need to do to refresh your home is to “edit” it as harshly as you do your writing.

Do you really need a picture (or groups of pictures) on every wall? Of course not. You also don’t need to line every wall with furniture, either, even if your hubby will gripe and whine that you’ve moved his favorite chair. (No worries. As long as he can still see his big screen TV and reach his remote, he’ll live.)

And to make matters worse, a Tuscan kitchen is all the rage. But honestly, no, you don’t have to blow the bank to go a little Tuscan, especially in these hard financial times. A coat of paint on the old cupboards and island (I had to go with white because my kitchen is a tad dim, though I'll likely repaint them antique white before I'm finished), new cabinet handles (black wrought iron) and, if you have low cupboards like I do, stuff on top.

Speaking of stuff. Obviously my loved ones decided I needed to collect barnyard fowl. (Who knew?) Luckily, I didn't get many — only four roosters and one duck, to be exact. Ah, but apparently bringing the outside in is the key to Tuscan, so up they went, along with a small white vase with a grape motif and complete with fake leafy vines, two wooden wine presentation boxes, several unique bottles, one ceramic strawberry pie plate posed upright in a plate holder. When grouped in threes and fours, and with some space between each grouping, it worked!

Adding a braided rope strung with realistic looking papier-mâché vegetables and garlic cloves (bought at Value Village thrift store for fifty cents), a black wrought iron four-bottle wine rack (bought at VV for a whole seven dollars; a wine rack is a must in a Tuscan kitchen, don'cha know), a burgundy kitchen mat and whimsical burgundy potholders and oven mitt, worked too. So did a trio of black wrought iron candle holders (to match the black wrought iron chandelier that came with the house) on the old worn maple table, along with using a predominantly burgundy and red tapestry-look Pashmina as a table runner. (Since Pashminas at the Liquidation Center were five dollars each, and since I couldn’t decide which color or pattern to choose, and since I was in a hurry, I bought four of them). Oh, and I also tilted a large and lidded ceramic blueberry pie plate on the buffet and stood a Tuscan-look pie plate in a black wrought iron stand beside it. Lastly (for now), I put my nicest cutting board on the island and placed on it a Peace Lily in a bright red ceramic plant pot, a small apple basket filled with my favorite Red delicious apples, a cute ceramic strawberry figurine. TA DA! The start of some Tuscan, which is just what my shoestring budget ordered. Okay, so it helped that I already had stainless steel and black appliances because my old ones were ancient and dangerous. But any color appliance would likely work just as well.

Crazy, isn‘t it?

I think so, too. But hey, the house needed the help and I needed something to do. Besides, it's best to decide on a theme before dashing off to the paint store, right? Think of it as writing. You need a plot or at least a vague idea before you can get down to work.

Tip: For under and above cabinet lighting, I went to the Liquidation Center and bought a basket-load of wireless battery powered puck lights. They were a whole one dollar each plus the batteries — can’t beat that with a stick.

Hint: Stickup puck lights tend to fall off when hung upside down, so what I did was remove the back from the rest of the puck light, carefully tapped a small nail hole into the back’s middle, removed the nail and pushed a thumbtack through the hole facing out, removed the sticky backing paper and pressed the puck light’s back into place via the thumbtack, then I attached the puck light to its back. Sure it‘s time-consuming, but it's far less than stringing wires, boring holes and likely electrocuting myself. Cheaper, too. And hey, I don’t mind pressing buttons — I type, remember?

Is it the best kitchen in the world? Not even close. But it’s simple, inexpensive, is a huge improvement from what it was, will certainly do until I can do more, and, like writing a story, is a work in progress.

A bit at a time, that’s the ticket; I’ll get there... eventually.

About that rain...

2009-04-01T08:56:00.000-07:00

The results of the ultrasound are in, and the answer is: it's a solid mass, bigger than a golf ball and smaller than a baseball.

So, it’s a referral to the gynecologist (specialist), have a little surgery, and then they’ll see.

Que Sera, Sera.

Some Help Here, Please

2009-03-29T15:41:00.001-07:00

Dear Readers and Writers,

Are you sick of seeing folks who don’t deserve to win, always win? Me too. But now we have a chance to change that.

I’m asking you to help out someone who actually deserves to win something. It’s JM over at The New Australian, and she’s in the running for The Bloggers Guide challenge for the region of Australasia. She won, but the competition isn't over, so I'm asking for your help.

There were six regional winners (including JM) and now those winners are going head to head to become the 'world champion' TBG.

How? With a combination of blogging posts and voting, each of the six will accumulate points - or kudos - in their total. The person with the most votes by the end of the voting period wins. You don't have to sign up to vote. If, for some weird reason, it says you do have to sign up, then you don't need to.

JM’s honestly is one of the nicest people you’ll ever want to meet, in real life or on net, and is one of the hardest workers around. She also really, seriously is someone who damn-well deserves something good. Plus, it’d mean more to her than you’ll ever know. That's why I’m asking.

For details (and about one minute of your time with no need to join or sign up for anything and no spam mail to follow, etc., etc. - I swear), please hurry over to:

The New Australian - Lend a Hand? - Sticky Post

Come on, Dear Readers, let's help this gal out.

Thank you so much!
Hawke

Rain, Rain, Go Away

2009-03-16T12:51:00.000-07:00

Had an ultrasound today for issues completely unrelated to the car accident I haven’t told you about yet but will a little later. About this latest though. When I find out, I promise to tell you… which should be around March 31.

So let's see... That's the car accident I didn't cause and the three hour blackout which both happened on Friday the 13th, and now this. Yep, that's three bad lucks. Hopefully it'll stay as three and not as the family usual — clusters of threes.

('Blooming In The Rain' graphic by dryicons.com)

The Perfect Pain...t

2009-03-12T10:02:00.000-07:00

Are you a renovation idiot who watches those crazy home shows and wonders what the heck color of paint it is that’s so damn popular it’s seen literally everywhere? Yeah, so am I. And since it was driving me nuts, and since I’m going to renovate in the spring (if it ever comes), and since I’m a research junkie, I kept at it until I found it. Well, I found the right ballpark, anyway. And even better, I’m willing to share.

Are you sitting down?

The darkest is Tobacco Road. One shade lighter than that is Plantation Beige. Two shades lighter than that is Sandy Lane. And they all can be found at your friendly neighborhood Sherwin Williams store. (Those colors apparently used to be available at Duron, but SW can make them for you.)

I know, I know — I’m fabulous.

Though they are colors, they’re considered warm neutrals, so with white ceilings, white trim and white doors, the above paints, in combinations or not, they'll look gorgeous in any home and go with any decor. Cool, no? I’m going to use the Sandy Lane to lighten the darker areas as well as in both bathrooms, the Plantation Beige pretty much everywhere else, and the Tobacco Road for accent walls.

Yep, baby, it’s gonna look great!

Oh yes. And are you also looking for the perfect little kitchen plant? Something that will look adorable on your counter or island when small (they can grow to 24” but take a long while to do it)? Something super easy to take care of and doesn’t need to be near a window to live? Something even a person like me — someone who’s so bad with plants that my family says I kill the plastic variety — won’t kill? Something inexpensive but looks like a million bucks and is disease and bug resistant? Then get yourself a Peace Lily. You can purchase them pretty cheap at your local grocery/florist store (I got mine at Safeway) or be taken for a boat ride at a fancy flouriest shop. Just water the livin’ hell out of it whenever the pot feels light, place it where there isn’t direct sunlight but enough that you could read a paperback book if you were sitting where it is sitting without additional light, and viola! Trust me, you’ll love it.

Now, if Spring would only come...

Australian Bushfire Appeal - Helping To Get The Message Out

2009-02-12T07:33:00.000-08:00

.

A lot of Aussie YouTubers are getting the message out to help the victims of their worst ever natural (?) disaster. If you can help, please donate to the Australian Red Cross: http://www.redcross.org.au

For more information and a list of places to donate, please see Fiction Scribe.

The Great And Ongoing Flu Shot Debate

2009-01-18T08:06:00.000-08:00

So here I am, wrapped in a lovely red chenille throw and surrounded by meds, Kleenex, an economy-sized bottle of Acetaminophen, two-and-a-quarter packages of Halls cough drops, Vicks Vapo-Rub, Benylin Extra Strength Chest Congestion and Sore Throat with Menthactin (Fast Acting For Relief Of: Chest Congestion and Sore Throat), and NeoCitran Extra Strength Nighttime Total Symptom Relief Hot Liquid Medicine for Cough and Fever and Body Aches and Headache and Nasal Congestion and Sneezing and Runny Nose and Sore Throat with Soothing Lemon Flavour that is neither soothing nor can I taste or smell because I didn’t get the flu shot. Not that it would’ve mattered.

Every year my family makes a big deal out of the flu shot, or rather, to get it or not to get it—that’s the debate. One sister pleads the fifth (coward); the other adamantly refuses to get it, saying she got the flu from it before and there’s no way in hell… ; my mother gets the shot every year, and every year her arm swells to a size rivalling Arnold Schwarzenegger’s in his pro-bodybuilding heyday. Me? I’m a hit-n-misser—I’ll get it if I’m guilted into it or there’s no other way around it.

So I didn’t get the flu shot this year. So I was driving to the mall a little over a week ago when Savage, of Savage and T-Bo’s 106.7 FM The Drive, said there was a mess up with this year’s flu shot—apparently the government guessed wrong (imagine that) so the shot wouldn’t protect against the strain currently sweeping the province.

“Ah-ha!” I yelled, my fist in the air. The driver beside me gave me the look.

Two or so days later, I got the flu. Three or so days after that, I got pneumonia. Now I wonder if I shouldn’t sue the government. Surely they had a hand in this; them and their huge wages and years of university and ten-thousand-dollars-for-a-hammer funding and previous shots that gave you the flu so bad it scared you off ever getting another one, and this year with their bureaucratic mumbo-jumboed TV adds showing beautiful nurses jabbing cherub-cheeked kids in the arm with a yard-long needle while their mommies, smiling and nodding like drugged out teens at a Grateful Dead concert, look on. And they were wrong!

Yeah, I should.

Maybe tomorrow.

And Happy New Year, Too!

2008-12-30T20:55:00.000-08:00

May this year bring you love, joy, health, happiness, prosperity, and an awesome writing muse.

All the very best to you and yours!

Merry Christmas!

2008-12-23T22:19:00.001-08:00

Hard to believe that tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Seems like only yesterday when I was complaining about Christmas and Halloween decorations on opposite sides of the isle. Now… wow, the time sure flew.

To Everyone: May you have a wonderful holiday season filled with love and good cheer.

Blessings to you and yours,
Hawke

Update On My Old Post - Writing Forums dot com Is (Not) Down

2008-12-23T21:07:00.000-08:00

Of course Writing Forums dot com (www.writingforums.com) is not down. She changed servers several months ago and is up, stronger, and better than ever. In fact, Writing Forums dot com is (IMO) one of the best writing sites/forums on the internet, bar none.

So if you're a writer or poet and are looking for a quality forum where you can Workshop (protect your first rights) and get critiques and help on your work from the burgeoning to the professional, as well as discuss writing and find info on publishing, then look no further than Writing Forums dot com (www.writingforums.com). I highly recommend it.

~Hawke

Writing Forums .com - Writing Forums, Workshops and Help for Writers

2008-12-21T10:43:00.000-08:00

“Writing is a solo, lonely act.”

That’s so true… or at least the actual writing part is. But with the invention of the internet and writing forums, writers don’t have to feel so alone anymore.

If you’re looking for an excellent writing forum, might I suggest Writingforums.com (Writing Forums, Workshops and Help for Writers—Writing Forums.

Unlike many forums out there, WF.com has been around for years (since 23-Sep-2002), and, like its home page says, is one of the fastest growing writing communities (and I do mean communities in the best sense of the word) on the web. By joining their free community you will be able to talk with other writers, get feedback on your work to improve your writing skills, discuss ideas, share tips & tricks, network and make friends!

Check out the impressive numbers as of this moment. Threads: 77,355, Posts: 948,010, Members: 29,798

If reading original works from the up-and-coming to the professional is what you're after, then WF.com (www.writingforums.com) is the place to find them. If you’re a writer or poet and a Writers’ Workshop or Poets’ Workshop to protect your first rights while improving your work is your focus, then you’ll find them there, too. They also have writing and poetry discussions, challenges galore, and enough forums to satisfy every taste (aside from Fanfiction, of course). There is even the hot Debate and the much calmer Lounge sections, where one can either go head to head with the best debaters around, or unwind and talk about your day or poignant topics. And let's not forget the Writing/Publishing Advice, and so much more.

And since registration is fast, simple and absolutely free, that only leaves one question: What are you waiting for? Go to Writing Forums and join the community today! And tell 'em Hawke sent you. :)

A Christmas Present From The Oddville Press

2008-12-17T11:54:00.000-08:00

Check it out!

Dear Readers, Writers, Poets and Artists:

Issue Two of The Oddville Press online magazine is now available - FREE!

Go to our nifty Download Page and get your very own shiny copy today!

Christmas Cake

2008-12-06T04:38:00.000-08:00

(Click on pic for larger view.)

And while you're cookin', here's a little tune to rock out on.

Help with Boston History - 1930's-40's

2008-12-01T13:18:00.001-08:00

Photo Courtesy of the "Internet"

News photo, dated on back Jan 8 1934. Shown: Lt Martin W Joyce, Mass State Police; Lt Wm M Donahue and Supt Martin King, Boston Police Dept.

Hey all,

I’m looking for information on Boston history, 1930’s - 1940’s, specifically about the following:

Mike Rocco (or Roco) Lived with his wife and family on Thurston Street - Boston
Louie Rocco (or Roco) - Mike’s brother
The Monte - nightclub/restaurant in Boston
Jimmy (or Jim or James) Diorio (or Di Orio) - owner of The Monte
The Pompeii - nightclub/restaurant - Boston
Katie Leonardi

Any help with this would be greatly appreciated.

People Doing Terrible Things

2008-11-04T09:38:00.000-08:00

"It is a man's sympathy with all creatures that truly makes him a man. Until he extends his circle of compassion to all living things, man himself will not find peace." ~ Albert Schweitzer (1875-1965)

“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated.” ~Mahatma Gandhi

I happened upon an excellent and truly wonderful site this morning called Bear Valley Rescue (added to 'My Must Reads'). There, I spotted 'About Horse Slaughter' in their navigation bar (fourth down under General) and, against my better judgment (I’m an animal lover), clicked it.

Now don’t get me wrong—I know it happens (I’m not delusional yet). I just don’t get how people can do terrible things to animals and I likely never will. But I digress. I suggest you read it (The End Doesn’t Justify The Means, Canadian Horse Defense Coalition, and don’t forget to read the true and heartwarming story of Charlie the blind pony while you’re there) for yourself. And watch the video, too. The only way we can prevent those terrible things from happening is to know as much as we can about them. Knowledge is power, and all that. Just be warned: the video is graphic and not for the faint of heart or iffy stomach.

Just to say. I own two wonderful quarter horses—Bear and Joe. Both excelled in the show ring, both are intelligent and as sweet as all-get-out, and both are currently enjoying their well deserved and royal-treatment retirement. More importantly, both are my family, my loves, my friends. When their time comes, they will be buried on the property with dignity, respect and love.

As for Bear Valley Rescue itself. Huge kudos and blessings to them for the work they do.

Hey all,

2008-10-30T07:43:00.000-07:00

Somewhere Between Windstorms And Merry-Go-Rounds

2008-10-25T20:45:00.000-07:00

The term “batten down the hatches” never seemed so right to this land-lubber as right now, the wind gusts powerful enough to bend the heritage tree in the back yard. Ah, but I’m more excited than scared, the skin on my arms tingling and a giggle popping out when a branch hit’s the side of the house. And stranger still, I've got this crazy desire to stand in the back yard and watch it happen. To be in the middle of it. To experience the power up close and personal.

I used to live in the country back home, and the twenty-minute drive on the paved secondary road between my home and my job had been exactly long enough to leave one behind and gear up (or down) for the other. In the middle was a long looping S curve, and for whatever reason, I started driving bits and pieces of it with my eyes closed. Naturally, the duration of keeping my eyes closed kept lengthening until one day I drove the whole thing completely by the sound of my tires on the asphalt and the slow tilt of my SUV. (Before you ask, yes, I always checked the entire S for oncoming traffic before closing my eyes.)

Why did I do it? Well, it wasn't completely to be reckless. I did it because it invigorated me. Energized me. Made be feel, even for a little while, that I was in another world—one I controlled. Kind of like a kid standing in the middle of a spinning merry-go-round with their head tipped back and their arms extended. Or standing outside in a windstorm.

Ah, the merry-go-round. Do you remember holding on for dear life, laughing yourself silly as the world blurred? Brave kids on the outer edge tried to stand but were quickly knocked off their feet, heads smacking into each other, the floor, the metal bars. Smaller kids quickly swept to the outside by the force of inertia clung to bars until they could hold on no more and then flung into the stratosphere. The very unlucky kid was crushed underneath it. And some stood in the middle of it all, God-like in their mini universe. Oh the carnage! Oh the good times.

Recently I found a road similar to the long looping S curve of my past... with one difference: This one’s maximum speed is faster by twenty clicks an hour.

I’m not advocating driving dangerously by any means—I most certainly am not. I’m not even advocating standing outside in a windstorm. But sometimes—just sometimes—you want to be that kid on the merry-go-round. You want to feel alive.

Soundtrack A Beautiful Mind Piano Instrumental Movie Themes James Horner and Jim Brickman

2008-10-23T20:04:00.000-07:00

Boomp3.com

If this does not play, please see sidebar for one that will.

Love this.

2008-10-20T10:30:00.001-07:00

I defy you to sing the following song and not at least grin a tiny bit.

Oh come on, you know you want to.

I Love the Whole World

(Spoken)
Astronaut 1: It never gets old, huh?
Astronaut 2: Nope. It kinda makes you want to…
Astronaut 1: Break into song?
Astronaut 2: Yup

(Sung)
I love the mountains, I love the clear blue skies
I love big bridges, I love when great whites fly
I love the whole world, and all its sights and sounds
Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda
I love the oceans, I love real dirty things
I love to go fast, I love egyptian kings
I love the whole world, and all its craziness
Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda
I love tornadoes, I love arach-a-nids
I love hot magma, I love the giant squids
I love the whole world, its such a brilliant place
Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda
Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda, Boom De Yadda...

Sing it with me now...

The Oddville Press—Success!

2008-10-01T09:53:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t be more pleased to say The Oddville Press' first publication exceeded expectations. There are already more subscribers to TOP (The Oddville Press) than many long established online magazines, the caliber and number of submissions outstanding and pleasantly stunning, making for happy readers, happy submitters, and happy staff.

I'd definitely call that a success!

And now, a few thank-you’s:

To the staff of The Oddville Press, who are the hardest working and most talented people I know. When something needs to be done, you do it with passion and pride; when life gets in the way, you support each other. To the authors and artists, who allow us to share your voices and have a small part in your dreams. And last but certainly not least, to you, Dear Reader, to whom this magazine is dedicated. Thank you all.

The Oddville Press is dedicated to bringing high quality Fiction, Poetry and Artwork to the forefront, and our mission is to promote today’s geniuses and tomorrow’s giants.

To download your free PDF copy of The Oddville Press online magazine, please see:
The Oddville Press - Issue 1

Calling all Authors and Artists
We are currently taking submissions for Issue 2.
For details, as well as submission information, please visit us at:
The Oddville Press

"Twilight"

2008-09-24T20:51:00.001-07:00

Okay, so I gave the Twilight series some more thought, have come to my senses, and am radically editing my post. My sincere apologies for the earlier review.

Some interesting points were brought up recently, ones I’d of course noticed while reading, but for some reason completely forgot about later (I blame it on the meds I was taking when I threw my back out).

Let's start with the kissing scene with Jacob. Hello, can you say ‘sexual assault‘? And speaking of Jacob… imprinting on a child of the woman he loves? And baby, no less? That’s just wrong on so many levels. Not to mention the completely unrealistic character named Bella—a girl who didn’t want kids; who is barely out of high school herself; who spent months pining nearly to insanity for a guy who walked out on her (never mind why—it doesn’t matter, and wouldn’t to most real people, male modelesque or not); who went all but suicidal for the delusion of Edward’s voice; who got married for sex. She’s mother material? Oh please. And there’s Edward, who’s not only a stalker, but a control freak with anger issues. For the record, stalking and controlling and anger are NOT love. I can see it now, all the teen girls saying, "If I could only meet an Edward..." Yeah. If you met an Edward, hon, you'd more than likely end up dead, and I'm not talking about him being a vampire, either. That's abuse, dear. Run, don't walk, from someone like that. But the author portrays these traits as desirable. Lovely. And let’s not forget Charlie, who takes it all in stride and doesn’t even pull his gun on Edward or anything. Yeah, that’s realistic, too.

Yes, life is just peachy-keen in Forks, isn’t it? Everything works out perfectly, and of course it does—the author can do that under the guise of “fantasy.” Bella never grows as a person, never matures, always relies on others. Heck, the grand total of her life experiences are her parents divorce and a few part-time jobs. Then voila, she’s suddenly this big super vampire/super hero/super savior/super wife/Mother of the Year. Bella gets everything, and everything works out just perfectly because that’s the way real life is (not). No need to worry about the wrong message this series sent.

Of course, the above gripes are smallish potatoes, I suppose. But not when adding them to breaking all the major rules of grammar and spelling and, the most important of all, the inconsistencies and the breaking of canon rules she (Stephenie Meyer) set up for her own previous novels. She constructed a world that she did not stay true to. (One example among too many is the explanation of Esme’s roundness the result of having been turned so quickly after her pregnancy. With that in mind, it should only follow that Bella also have her post pregnancy figure. But of course she doesn’t. Bella has the perfect model’s body. Why?) Of course the editors and publishers of this series must share in the blame, and of course they do; they dropped the ball. To them, I say: guess money was more important than the work in this instance or there would have been a painstaking revision before it went to press. Way to fail your author... unless this is a marketing strategy—a little controversy adding to talk/hype/sales. Hmm. But I digress.

Unrealistic, inconsistent, and completely the wrong message to send today’s youth. Sadly, it's selling like crazy.

Reality Checking The Fonda Phenomenon

2008-09-05T10:37:00.000-07:00

So you wanna be an “Easy Rider,” huh? To feel the wind in your hair, the bugs in your teeth, the throb of horsepower between your legs. To be that great Lone Wolf, Peter Fonda—a former clubber turned independent who blazes his own trail and doesn’t try to be cool because he just is. Biker, baby. Freedom. The want for the open road and the “Live to ride and ride to live" motto or, as I call it, "The Fonda Phenomenon." (By the way, no one is Peter Fonda. Most are one or more Wild Hogs, with only a few craving attention and wondering what their idols would have done.)

Or maybe you’re a car driver (cager) who, because of stereotypical beliefs, has a problem with motorcyclists and perhaps likes to mess with 'em once in a while in order to “take them down a peg or two.“ Or even worse, maybe you don’t notice them at all.

Well, here's a bit of a reality check for you both.

Do you remember the CHP's famous "Red Asphalt" video which largely shocked driving students into submission? Well, the California Highway Patrol (CHP) released an educational video called, "Thrill or Buzz Kill?" It's not quite the same as the CHP's famous, "Red Asphalt.” Instead, it's more of a testimonial video, that has various CHP officers, and accident victims, to warn people that no one is invincible.

A word of caution: it uses some gory photos and videos of actual accident scenes.

Here’s the link...

http://www.chp.ca.gov/html/motorcycle_v.html

Both motorcyclists and car drivers need to be aware of each other and the danger they're in, because at the end of the day everyone just wants to get home alive.

Thursday Giggles

2008-09-04T09:49:00.001-07:00

Now that I’ve stopped laughing and can type again, I thought I’d share these with you. Enjoy!

The Biker and the Farmer

While riding one day, a lone Biker met a Farmer riding a horse with a dog and a sheep alongside.
The biker began a conversation . . . .
Biker: "Hey, cool dog you got there. Mind if I speak to him?"
Farmer: "Dogs don’t talk."
Biker: "Hey dog, how's it going?"
Dog: "Doin' alright."
Farmer: Look of shock.
Biker: "Is this your owner?" pointing at the Farmer.
Dog: "Yep."
Biker: "How does he treat you?"
Dog: "Really well. He walks me twice a day, feeds me great food, and takes me to the river once a week to play."
Farmer: Look of total disbelief.
Biker: "Mind if I talk to your horse?"
Farmer: "Horses don’t talk."
Biker: "Hey horse, how's it going?"
Horse: "Cool."
Farmer: Extreme look of shock.
Biker: "Is this your owner? " pointing at the Farmer.
Horse: "Yessiree Bob."
Biker: "How's he treating you?"
Horse: "Pretty good, and thanks for asking. He rides me regularly, brushes me down often, and keeps me in a shed to protect me."
Farmer: Total look of utter amazement.
Biker: "Mind if I talk to your sheep?"
Farmer: "The sheep is a liar."

*

Speeding?

A rookie police officer pulled a biker over for speeding and had the following exchange:
Officer: May I see your driver's license?
Biker: I don't have one. I had it suspended when I got my 5th DUI.
Officer: May I see the owner's card for this vehicle?
Biker: It's not my bike. I stole it.
Officer: The motorcycle is stolen?
Biker: That's right. But come to think of it, I think I saw the owner's card in the tool bag when I was putting my gun in there.
Officer: There's a gun in the tool bag?
Biker: Yes sir. That's where I put it after I shot and killed the dude who owns this bike and stuffed his dope in the saddle bags.
Officer: There's drugs in the saddle bags too?!?!?
Biker: Yes, sir.
Hearing this, the rookie immediately called his captain. The biker was quickly surrounded by police, and the captain approached the biker to handle the tense situation:
Captain: Sir, can I see your license?
Biker: Sure. Here it is.
It was valid.
Captain: Who's motorcycle is this?
Biker: It's mine, officer. Here's the registration.
Captain: Could you slowly open your tool bag so I can see if there's a gun in it?
Biker: Yes, sir, but there's no gun in it.
Sure enough, there was nothing in the tool bag.
Captain: Would you mind opening your saddle bags? I was told you said there's drugs in them.
Biker: No problem.
The saddle bags were opened; no drugs.
Captain: I don't understand it. The officer who stopped you said you told him you didn't have a license, stole this motorcycle, had a gun in the tool bag, and that there were drugs in the saddle bags.
Biker: Yeah, I'll bet he told you I was speeding, too.

*

Why lawyers should never ask a witness a question if they aren't prepared for the answer:

In a trial, a Southern small town prosecuting attorney called his first witness to the stand -- a grandmotherly, elderly woman. He approached her and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know me?"

She responded, "Why, yes I do know you, Mr. Williams. I've known you since you were a young boy, and frankly, you've been a big disappointment to me.
You lie, you cheat on your wife, you manipulate people and talk about them
Behind their backs. You think you're a big shot when you haven't the brains
to realize you never will amount to anything more than a two-bit paper pusher. Yes, I know you."

The lawyer was stunned. Not knowing what else to do, he pointed across the room and asked, "Mrs. Jones, do you know the defense attorney?"

She again replied, "Why yes, I do. I've known Mr. Bradley since he was a youngster, too. He's lazy, bigoted, and he has a drinking problem. He can't build a normal relationship with anyone and his law practice is one of the worst in the entire state. Not to mention he cheated on his wife with three different women. Yes, I know him."

The defense attorney almost died. The judge asked both counselors to approach the bench, and in a very quiet voice, he said, "If either of you bastards asks her if she knows me, you'll be jailed for contempt."

*

A Man At the Pearly Gates

A man dies and goes to Heaven. At the pearly gates he meets St. Peter. St. Peter is looking over the mans folder and says to the man, "I can't let you in because your records show that you have done nothing to help your fellow man. But if you can think of one thing that you did to help, I'll let you in."

The man thinks for a minute and says, "There was this one time I was driving down this dark, deserted road one night when I came upon a bunch of bikers in the middle of the road. They had this young lady there and each biker was taking his turn with her. I got my tire iron from my trunk and walked into the middle of them, picked out the biggest, ugliest one of them and hit him in back of the head. As he lay on the ground the rest of the bikers surrounded me. I slapped my tire iron in my hand and said, 'Which one of sons-of-bitches is next?'"

St. Peter looked at the man and asked, "When did this happen?"

The man replied while looking at his watch, "About ten minutes ago."

*

(Caution - Strong Language)

Date: Sat Mar 27 15:36:01 2004

Yes — you, you sick fucker. On Wednesday morning I emerged from my girlfriend's building by U.N. Plaza to find that you had sawed the tops off both the sparkplugs on my motorcycle. At the time, I had no idea why anyone would do that. Other than the sparkplugs, the bike was untouched. Some kind of bizarre vandalism? A fraternity prank gone awry? I had no idea. All I knew is that I looked like a huge douchebag riding the Muni to work in a padded motorcycle jacket and helmet. Because the bike was immobilized I got a $35 street sweeping ticket that night. Thursday I had it towed to the shop ($45) where they replaced the sparkplugs and the boots ($50 including labor). They explained to me that "people" - I use the term loosely here - like you break off the tops of spark plugs and use the porcelain tubes to smoke crack. As an engineer and former MacGyver fan, in a way I think this is kind of cool. But then I remember that I just paid $100 for YOUR crackpipes, and I get angry again.

Crackhead, it was really good to have my bike back though. I rode home from the shop with a couple of spare sparkplugs and a smile on my face. I figured the next time I parked at my girlfriend's place overnight I would have to buy some crackpipes and tape them to my bike as a peace offering. Overall, I wasn't that upset. Despite having to ride the bus for three days and dropping a hundred bones at the shop, I had gained some fascinating knowledge, a new set of spark plugs, and a pretty funny anecdote about how fucked up you are, and how our paths once crossed briefly in the night.

But you couldn't just let sleeping dogs lie, could you, Crackhead? You couldn't just stay in on Friday, watch Letterman through the window of a home electronics store and then call it a night. You couldn't rest on your laurels. Two porcelain sparkplug crackpipes just wasn't enough for you, was it Crackhead? You just had to come back for more. This morning, a scant fifteen hours after I rode it out of the shop, I found my motorcycle violated once again. This time you only took the right one - maybe you were having an off night. At least this time I had a spare sparkplug and the tools to fix it - or so I thought - having ordered a 73-piece toolset from SEARS.com last week. But no, the sparkplug socket in my new toolset was for American sparkplugs. So I had to go down to the neighborhood Ace hardware. They had an 18mm socket that would fit over my sparkplug, but it was for a 1/2" drive ratchet. My toolkit only has 1/4" and 3/8" ratchets. So I had to buy a 1/2" ratchet along with the socket. Even though the clerk took pity on me and gave me the senior citizen discount (I'm 25) it still cost me $22 all told.

Now, you might say that I should have just gotten a 3/8"-to-1/2" drive adaptor instead of springing for the whole ratchet. And to that I say "Shut the hell up, Crackhead, I'm not finished. And besides, I was eventually going to buy a 1/2" ratchet anyway so it's probably not worth it to take it back now."OK, now I'm rambling. But the point is, Crackhead, that you have done me wrong. Now, I get that you love crack. That is totally understandable. I've heard it is really fun, at first, and quite addictive. What I don't understand is...

YOU ARE A CRACKHEAD. WHY DON'T YOU OWN A CRACKPIPE?!

I am an engineer. Do you ever see me shaking down bums in the Loin for a calculator and sliderule? No, you don't. Because engineering is the main thing I do, I went and bought myself a calculator. The main thing you do is crack. How do you get by without a crackpipe? The other crackheads must clown on you non-stop. I mean, the fucking saw you used to saw off my sparkplugs is probably worth five or ten bucks. Why not sell or trade it for a crackpipe? You really haven't put much thought into this, have you? Please, Crackhead, please don't tell me you sold your crackpipe to buy crack. Even a stupid crackhead such as yourself couldn't possibly be that stupid. I've decided that taping crackpipes to my motorcycle would be tantamount to appeasement.

You have crossed a line, Crackhead - specifically California Street. You have come onto my own street and you have desecrated that which I hold dear. You have stolen from me, and you have caused me to spend the last half hour writing this post instead of engineering shit, and it is conceivable, if not likely, that my boss could find out about this and fire me. I am hella pissed at you dude.

Here are my options as I see them:

1. Write a note saying that I have coated both of my sparkplugs in rat poison and tape it to my bike at night. You can thank Tim for that one, it was his idea.

2. Don't write a note, but just coat both sparkplugs in rat poison. This is probably closer to a punishment that would fit your despicable crime. I'm sure this is super illegal and SHIT, but it's not like anyone is going to miss you, Crackhead. Don't fool yourself.

3. Wait in an alley near my bike armed with my new stainless steel mirror-finish Ace Professional brand 1/2" drive socket wrench, my 18mm sparkplug socket, and my searing rage. It's pretty heavy and well balanced. I am not a large man, but I am angry.

In conclusion, Crackhead, why don't you just do both of us a favor and buy yourself a crackpipe? It will both enhance your crack smoking experience and save me a lot of time and felony assault charges. Think about it.

Sincerely,
Bike Owner

*** If you are not the Crackhead that took my sparkplugs, please
disregard this posting ***

The Post Olympic Blues

2008-08-25T09:41:00.001-07:00

or
What Am I Gonna Watch Now?

Seems to me the modern Olympics were created for one purpose: to establish an audience, specifically a TV audience. Take me, for example. But for the very odd or seasonal times, the amount of television I normally watch would give programming execs nightmares (not to worry, I’m not part of some new trend… or am I?) and at the same time make being a Nielsen rater the cushiest job, ever; House being the only show I’m a patron of, and even that’s hit and miss at best. Ah, but then along comes the Olympics and I suddenly turn into a constant viewer, watching what I normally wouldn’t walk across the street to see much less plan a day around, and with all the zeal and voracity of a true armchair athlete, too. Crazier still, I miss them (dammit!) when they’re over, the what I refer to as “Olympic Phenomenon” working perfectly once again, no weaning off period or anything, leaving those of us in the habit of tuning in suddenly without anything worth tuning in to.

Hmm. Maybe I’ve just never been in the TV loop. I mean, folks love it, stare at it, spend all night ignoring family in the same room with it and calling that 'quality time,' take it with them, tape it, burn it, use it as a quasi babysitter/entertainment/life what with palm-sized TVs, micro and widescreen, DLP, LCD, PDP, flat-paneled plasmas, front projectors and rear projectors and “Where the hell is the remote?” with cable and satellite and hundreds of channels and tons of packages and hold the onions… so they have to be watching something, right?

Right. But, what?

Well, there’s always American Gladiators. Or one of the CSI spin-offs. And let’s not forget the paranormal shows like Rescue Mediums and Ghost Hunters. Or any one of a bazillion reality shows (how ironic that they called television “The Boob Tube” at a time of decent programming, but now that the term is completely appropriate, they’ve dropped it). And if that’s not enough, there’re murmurs that Stag Beetle tournament fights (yes, it’s real) could be the next big thing.

On second thought, I think I’ll go back to reading.

29th Olympiad

2008-08-08T14:04:00.000-07:00

08/08/08

Best of luck to all the athletes!

All Those Cautions

2008-08-06T13:45:00.000-07:00

So who knew the new girl would bite ten minutes after she was delivered?

As previously mentioned, we have a new baby in the family, namely a 526 lb. (dry and bare weight) Suzuki VL Volusia with all the aftermarket bells and whistles. Studded Mustang seats with matching sissy bar, luggage rack, windshield, running boards, leather saddle bags, leather tank bib with sunglass case, leather conchoed tool pouch and chrome out the wazoo, including diamond grips, a screaming eagle head fender ornament and Cobra pipes… and it had been one of the pipes that “bit” bad enough to make a trip to the doctor for a huge third-degree burn, because about the only thing the new baby doesn't have are heat shields.

Caution: Bare legs and hot pipes don’t mix.

Speaking of cautions... I dislike overly dramatic “angsty” folks who view life as a bottomless pit of despair. Who no one understands. Who no one gets. Whose world is measured in the three foot radius of themselves. Who truly believe the butterfly in Central Park flaps its wings with the soul purpose of ruining their life. But that’s not me. Nope, I’m not generally like that. But I can do some pretty heavy soul-searching every once in a while. (Surprise—I know, what with me supposedly being a “writer” and all.) Like today. So if you’re interested (and I certainly don’t blame you if you aren’t) here’s a little something about me: there are very few people who know the real me. If you’re one of those who fall into the "don't" category, don’t worry—you aren’t missing anything.

I’m not a very good person, as is obvious by the amount of real life friends (none) and internet friends (few) I have, and worse, by the amount longer than a short while—a short while being anywhere from a couple of months to a couple of years.

Ah now, I already know what you’re thinking: Who’s the common denominator?

Well gosh-darnnit, that would be me!-wouldn’t it. And that brings me full circle, right back to the “not a very good person” part. I guess I change in that time. Or maybe life changes its course and I miss the detour. Relegated to the category of nonexistent. A mist. A specter. A nonentity. So it goes, again... still. I guess I do a lot wrong, and of course I do; I’m the common denominator—remember?

Maybe I'd better start looking harder for the signs. (EDIT: Scratch that. I'm done with signs altogether.)

It's A Girl!

2008-08-05T17:42:00.001-07:00

Adopted: 08/01/08

Ain't she sweet.

Notice:

2008-07-14T17:53:00.000-07:00

A Bag of Hammers

2008-07-14T08:46:00.000-07:00

Unbeknownst to me until recently, three WestJet airline tickets have been purchased to Ontario. Specifically, to Hamilton airport in early September. The plan (apparently) is a sort of double holiday: my mother and eldest sister to get reacquainted at my sister’s home in Oakville, and the other two to go straight on to Ottawa for a few days, toodle around the Great Lakes on the way back to Oakville, and afterward, whatever. And all this in one week.

I’ve decided to pass and make a plan of my own: to stay here, hopefully writing and enjoying the peace and quiet of solitude. No doubt that’ll go over like a bag of hammers. So it goes.

Update (08/07): The tickets were changed and, oddly enough, everyone was fine with it. Ahh...

Write, Read, Subscribe for free! The Oddville Press

2008-07-13T20:24:00.000-07:00

.

The Oddville Press isn't just for writers, but for readers as well.

You can now subscribe online and get a nice shiny new copy delivered to your mailbox on the day of publication... for free!

Subscribe Today!

.

It's Share a Song Day

2008-07-13T20:12:00.000-07:00

This song was playing on the radio today while I was driving and I thought I'd share.

Love Jann Arden's stuff.

Jann Arden - Insensitive - Jann Arden

I'm not at all keen on this song's video, but for those who prefer them, here it is.

Jann Arden - Insensitive
Uploaded by hushhush112

And the one I'm currently obsessed with (do yourself a favor and crank up the sound on your speakers before playing - it's that good):

Want Published? The Oddville Press (online Magazine)

2008-05-16T16:36:00.000-07:00

My apologies for my absence to date, Dear Reader, but I have a very good reason. For the last little while I have been working on something near and dear to my heart. To that end, it has been my privilege and honor to work with some of the most talented, hardest working folks on the internet, watching a kernel of an idea grow into something truly lovely, truly tangible, truly amazing. Now that we're ready to rock, I'm very excited and anxious to tell you all about it. So I will.

It's my sincere pleasure to introduce you to The Oddville Press.

Artwork courtesy of Clara Natoli. Please do not copy without her permission. To see more of her Clara's wonderful work, visit her "new blog."

The Oddville Press is an online non-profit magazine dedicated to bringing high quality Fiction, Poetry and Artwork to the forefront and whose mission is to promote today’s geniuses and tomorrow’s giants. The Oddville Press will consider material submitted by any writer, established or not. Our guidelines are simple: submissions must be original, well written, creative and compelling. Serious, thoughtful, yet accessible high-quality fiction, poetry and artwork will constitute the majority of our acceptances, and of course humour is most welcome.

"So, why the name 'The Oddville Press'?" you ask.

Simply put, the word "odd" is something all writers know very well, the first twinge experienced the first time someone asks us what we do. Yes, writers are odd. We know it. And the looks on the faces of the folks we tell says they know it too. So, why not embrace it? The "ville" part is the sense of community we writers gravitate toward. Writing is very much a solo act, and though being unique is kind of cool in itself, being lonely is a real killer. So we tend to group up on writing forums, writing work shops and creative writing classes, in real life and in internet life, helping ourselves by helping each other. Hence, the name The Oddville Press.

Ah, but this magazine is unquestionably for you, Dear Reader. We bring quality Fiction, Poetry and Artwork from around the world to the public by respecting the minds of those we are invited into, publishing the professional and the burgeoning—today’s geniuses and tomorrow’s giants.

So if you're a writer, poet or artist, why are you still here reading this? Give us your weird and wonderful. Give us something "odd." Get yourself over to The Oddville Press, see the Submission Guidelines, then submit. Your public awaits!

We look forward to reading you.

Romantic Song

2008-04-19T07:32:00.000-07:00

Here's a little ditty for you to help you get through the day. Enjoy.

It's Time To Get Clued In

2008-02-19T10:23:00.000-08:00

Another school shooting on a growing list of school shootings, and as I’ve said before (and I’ll say again): I believe the fault lies with everyone, and the key to stopping it is everyone.

Now hear me out.

We are a self-centered, don’t-want-to-get-involved, “me” society, where we see things going on around us—everything from the huge and obvious to the “just a little off”—and let it go. Because we let it go, we are enablers (and accomplices, I might add) by not getting involved. Because we don’t get involved, the fault lies with us. We. We’ve dropped the ball, people. The old and true saying “It takes a community to raise a child” isn’t happening in this society, and that’s a damn shame.

Off the top of my head. This sort of thing can be (most times) be prevented. With that in mind, I have to ask: Where were the parents in all of this? Where were the kid’s friends? The teachers? Even the casual observer who lives down the hall and has a gut feeling that the guy is “weird” and/or may be going off his nut? They (we, in fact) are busy being enablers (and accomplices—I can’t stress that word enough), that’s where. People say afterward (why is it always afterward?) things like, “He stopped his meds and was getting more and more erratic” or “He was bullied,” etc., etc. So why didn’t anyone speak up before? Were they afraid? And if so, of what? If they’re wrong, great! If they’re right, it might save lives.

As for the bullies. Why weren’t they put to the mat when they first started bullying? Our school board here has adopted a Zero Tolerance policy on bullying, whereby, if warranted, the offender will do their schooling off grounds via the Outreach Program, where they can’t hurt anyone. It’s not the end-all / be-all answer, but it helps. Of course, if the offender decides to retaliate off school grounds, the retaliatee’s parents can always make use of the legal system (assault, uttering threats, etc., etc.).

And speaking of parents. If you’d stop touting your kid’s right to privacy and start getting your butt into their bedroom, you might be able to prevent some of these terrible things from happening and save your own kid in the process. Ah, I know what you’re thinking: I’ll break the trust. Well here's a reality check for you: It could cost them their lives if you don't. But just to make you feel better, let's try looking at this another way. If you thought for one second there was something in that room which could cost your kid their life, wouldn't you be in there in a heartbeat? Sure you would; I guarantee you would. I can also guarantee that no where on your apartment lease or deed of your house will you find is your kid’s name. That makes it your house, not your kid’s. It's time to get clued in.

In all honesty, the “it’s none of my business” mentality has got to go. Instead, what we need to do is to get involved because only through it will we have a hope in hell of stopping this.

writingforums.com (Writing Forums)

2008-01-06T09:03:00.000-08:00

Since Writing Forums dot com (WF.com) is down again, and since there are thousands of us displaced WFers looking for a place to hang out, get information, set up a second (third, forth, twelfth) home...

Now you know I don’t usually recommend writing forums on The View (I‘ve only ever recommended one thus far), but the potential of this months-old forum makes it another exception and definitely one worth checking out. Introducing:

Writing Discussions: Forums for Writers is a friendly and new kind of writing forum made by writers, for writers. Just a few of its super features include:

* An excellent, experienced and very approachable staff.

* Talented members from beginners to the published.

* Enough forums for writers of all walks, tastes and genres, including five viewable by members only Writing Workshops in the categories of Fiction, Poetry, Non-Fiction, Scripts, Other Writing (meaning first rights are protected in all five Workshop forums).

* The Hothouse—another first rights protected forum, The Hothouse is a new concept in writers' forums. It's a private, invitation only and first rights protected area devoted solely to the 'hothousing' of writers and their work in preparation for publication.

* Writing Exercises and Challenges forum—a place to flex your writing muscles. Join a challenge or create your own and challenge your friends.

* NaShoStoMo Forums. Think you’ve got what it takes?

* Member Blogs. Yes, you heard that right. As a member, you can create your own member Blog. They come complete with a Calendar, Archives, Categories and all the extras.

And if that’s not enough, then hang on to your goodies, folks, because they aren’t done adding yet. Have a suggestion or a feature you'd like to see? Let them know and they'll see what they can do. (Yes, there’s even a forum for that.) This place aims to please.

So if you write or are an avid reader and haven’t yet checked out Writing Discussions: Forums for Writers, I urge you to do so. And tell ‘em Hawke sent you.

Writing Forums dot com Is Down

2007-12-29T08:21:00.000-08:00

Since writingforums.com is down (which leaves several thousand people temporarily displaced, myself included), and since I stumbled upon the site Writing Discussions: Forums for Writers (please see the link in my "Must Reads"), not to take away from other sites listed in my 'Must Reads' mind you, I thought I'd point Writing Discussions: Forums for Writers out as being another either temporary or perhaps permanent first or second (third, forth, twelfth) home.

Posted right at the top of Writing Discussions: Forums for Writers (in News & Announcements) is the topic "Writing Forums is Down..." by Selorian. That post reads as follows:

"It appears that writingforums.com is down. If you're a member there looking for someplace to hang out until the problem is resolved, feel free to sign up and use Writing Discussions.

"Abide by the same rules you would there and enjoy.

"I'll try to update the status of WF as the information becomes available to me."

Thank you so much for your kindness, Selorian. WD is truly a lovely writing forum, and one I'm proud to have joined.

Might I also recommend for the writingforums.com displaced another lovely writing forum called Literary Mary (please see the link in my "Must Reads"). There you'll find many familiar faces, an excellent staff, mad-skills talent and enough forums to satisfy any writer.

As for writingforums.com. No—I have no idea why it's down, nor can I guess when it'll be back up. Like Selorian, I'll also try to update the status of WF (here) as the information becomes available to me. Knock on wood it'll be up soon. Meanwhile, write on!

*

*

To All...

2007-12-24T15:59:00.000-08:00

Hugs, love and happiness,
Hawke

Christmas Song Quiz

2007-12-23T10:55:00.000-08:00

Try to identify the carol from the clues. Some are pretty tricky! The answers are at the bottom... don't peek if you want to try it for yourself.

1. The apartment of 2 psychiatrists.
2. The lad is a diminutive percussionist.
3. Decorate the entry-ways .
4. Sir Lancelot with laryngitis.
5. A B C D E F G H I J K M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z.
6. Present me naught but dual incisors for this festive Yuletide.
7. The smog-less bewitching hour arrived.
8. Exuberation to this orb.
9. 288 Yuletide hours.
10. Do you perceive the same longitudinal pressure which stimulates my auditory sense organs.
11. The red-suited pa is due in this burg.
12. Stepping on the pad cover.
13. Uncouth dolt has his beezer in the booze and thinks he is a Dark Cloud's boyfriend.
14. Far back in a hay bin.
15. Leave and do an elevated broadcast.
16. That exiguous hamlet south of the holy city.
17. Behold! I envisioned a trio of nautical vessels.
18. Listen, the winged heavenly messengers are proclaiming tunefully.
19. A joyful song relative to hollow metallic vessels which vibrate and bring forth a ringing sound when struck.
20. As the guardians of little woolly animal's protected their charges in the shadows of the earth.
21. Frozen precipitation commence
22. Monarchial triad
23. Oh, member of the round table with missing areas
24. Boulder of the tinkling metal spheres
25. Vehicular homicide was committed on Dad's mom by a precipitous darling
26. Wanted in December: top forward incisors
27. We are Kong, Lear, and Nat Cole
28. Cup-shaped instruments fashioned of a whitish metallic element
29. Oh small Israel urban center
30. Our fervent hope is that you thoroughly enjoy your yuletide season
31. Parent was observed osculating a red-coated unshaven teamster
32. May the Deity bestow an absence of fatigue to mild male humans
33. Natal celebration devoid of color, rather albino, as a hallucinatory phenomenon for me.
34. Obese personification fabricated of compressed mounds of minute crystals.
35. Tranquiltiy upon the terrestrial sphere.
36. Have hitherward the entire assembly of those who are loyal in their belief.

>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
>

And the answers are:

1. The Nutcracker Suite
2. Little Drummer Boy
3. Deck The Halls
4. Silent Night
5. Noel (No L)
6. All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth
7. It Came Upon a Midnight Clear
8. Joy To The World
9. 12 Days Of Christmas
10. Do You Hear What I Hear?
11. Santa Claus Is Coming To Town
12. Up On the Housetop
13. Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer
14. Away In A Manger
15. Go Tell It On The Mountain
16. O Little Town Of Bethlehem
17. I Saw Three Ships
18. Hark the Herald Angels Sing
19. Jingle Bells
20. As Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night
21. Let It Snow
22. We Three Kings
23. O Holy Night
24. O Christmas Tree
25. Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer
26. All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth (again)
27. We Three Kings (again)
28. Silver Bells
29. Oh Little Town of Bethlehem (again)
30. We Wish You a Merry Christmas
31. I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
32. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen
33. I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas (or Walkin’ In a Winter Wonderland ?)
34. Frosty The Snowman
35. Peace On Earth
36. O Come All Ye Faithful

Christmas Video Chuckles

2007-12-20T21:44:00.000-08:00

Since we’re doing the Christmas video thing (aren’t we?), I thought I’d post a couple of chuckles for you. I know I could sure use a good giggle at this time of year, but anyway...

Hope you enjoy.

And for my fellow Canadians...

*

*

Traditions (Or How To Avoid Buying Into The Commercial Christmas) again

2007-12-17T06:43:00.000-08:00

Thought I'd drag this one out of last year's mothballs, dust it off and repost it.

Can someone please tell me when we went from the true meaning and joy of Christmas, to commercialism and hype? When peace, love thy fellow man, “Merry Christmas” wishing, cease-firing (during wartime, no less), warm and fuzzy feelings and family and traditions were replaced with camping out in front of stores, fist fights in lineups, “Seasons Greetings” wishing (if we say anything at all) lest we offend someone, bitching each other out, paying double on e-bay, Christmas tree dismantling in airports, and walking over each other's dead bodies if necessary for a chance at that elusive, must-have-no-matter-what, whatever-the-hell-it-is piece of what’s-it at what-ever-the-hell price?

And after all that, after we've warmly and fuzzily beat some line-jumper nearly to death and/or drove ourselves into depression, the very kids we did it for (depending on their age, of course) will either play with said “must-have” once or twice and then play with the box or bow instead, or, if older, snub their noses at the (for example) $100 plus IPod as though you’ve just handed them slug guts in a box, utterly disgusted that you didn’t get them the $300 “black” number they only told you a bazillion times to get—the status symbol everyone has. Pul-ease.

And we do this... why?

The kids won’t remember everything they get (and from whom) this year, anymore than they remember everything they got (and from whom) last year.

Go ahead—ask them. I can wait.

What they will remember is the cat knocking over the Christmas tree. Or Grandpa taking out his dentures and making funny faces. Or Aunty Deb baking Nanaimo squares. Or the Christmas meal, in menu-like detail, including their first sip of wine. Or dad throwing everyone out of the kitchen to make his famous potato dressing. In other words, you can’t buy memories, but you can make them.

Gee, what a concept.

Christmas Sing-Along!

2007-12-12T10:37:00.000-08:00

Ah, Christmas. Are your stockings hung, your credit cards maxed out, the mall's a madhouse, and you've decided you're gonna take up heavy drinking if you don’t find a good Christmas sing-along to pick up your spirits? Then you've come to the right place!

Oh come on. You know you wanna.

Enjoy.

It's That Time...

2007-12-06T06:18:00.001-08:00

Just...

2007-11-30T20:08:00.001-08:00

The Great Neighborhood Tree War

2007-11-07T06:44:00.000-08:00

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

~Trees by Joyce Kilmer

No, I’m not talking about Lord of the Rings and Ents here… though Treebeard was a pretty cool character. What I’m talking about is the healthy, massive, heritage Oak tree in my back yard.

I’ve no idea how tall or how old it is; the farmer who owned the land here back in the day—back when it was farm land and not houses on postage-stamp-sized lots, that is—planted it, and a Spruce, on either side of his driveway. Ages later, when they built this house, they were careful to keep the tree as is. I’m careful too. After all, I love the big old boy. And it actually works for its keep too, providing shade for this house and the nice neighbor’s house as well. See, it overhangs the nice neighbor’s fence, and has for years… long before I ever moved here, I‘m guessing. But no one minded. In fact, the nice neighbor asked that the tree remain exactly as it is as well, which suited me just fine. I mean, it’s not like I can jump on a ladder and trim it up anyway—it being the biggest somebitch within a five mile radius, matched only by the heritage Spruce, which is still alive and well in the nice neighbor’s back yard, thank you. So, everything should be happily ever after, right?

Wrong.

The nice neighbor sold his house last Spring to a company based out of Sylvan Lake, who promptly turned it into a duplex and rented it out. Still, it shouldn’t be a big deal, right?

Wrong again.

I received a letter from the city yesterday. Seems the company doesn’t much care for my big old Oak tree. It wants the many massive limbs hacked off at the fence line between our two properties, which may or may not kill the old Oak outright. Now it’s a big deal.

Anyway. So I looked out today and noticed that the heritage Spruce in their back yard is half in my back yard, the Spruce snug up tight against the fence between us, its limbs hanging well into my property. Hmm. Dilemmas, dilemmas. See, I’m thinking this could quickly become ‘neighbor rage‘—right? Yep, it sure could. Not that I have anything against the people living there. I don’t. They only rent the place. No, it’s the company from Sylvan that I have a problem with. Especially if removing the offending Oak’s limbs (that are a good thirty plus feet off the ground and so are not in anyone’s way nor apt to be a nuisance) ends up killing something almost as old as the town itself.

To me, writing is very much like a tree. It starts out as an sapling of an idea and, once planted, takes root and grows. Of course, not everyone will like every bit of your tree/work, including you. So some pruning will be needed, and that begs the question: how much? How much can one prune before the story isn’t the same story anymore?--before you‘ve killed or ruined it? That then dominos into the next question: should you write for the readers, or for yourself? Depends on how popular you want to be, I suppose. Like me and the overhanging Spruce I’m about to report. Oh yes, I’m not going to be very popular I think. But hey, all’s fair in love and tree wars.

Writing Fall Flowersicles

2007-10-19T05:53:00.000-07:00

“If a guy hits .300 every year, what does he have to look forward to? I always tried to stay around .190, with three or four RBI. And I tried to get them all in September. That way I always had something to talk about during the winter.”
~Bob Uecher

Ah, Fall. The mere mention of the word signals the beginning of the end of most of the things I’d mentioned in my “Spring” entry (green grass, fresh air through open windows, BBQ’s, hot apple pie cooling on the windowsill (which I’ve never done) and walking the dog without bundling up to the eyes). It also means the neighbors will still be out in their backyard on their lawn chairs smoking pot while their comedian cum jailbird teenage son puts hotdogs in everyone’s mailboxes and bananas in everyone’s tailpipes, only now, they’ll be wearing sweaters. On the bright side, the wasps and creepy crawlies will also be no more, the flyswatters and bug killers neatly stored away until next Spring. Oh bliss!

It was so wondrous to see the Canada Geese training their young for the big trip south. Far less wondrous will be the sure knowledge of the return of Winter. Leaves of every make, model and color will soon decorate the trees… including the giant heritage oak tree in my back yard that dwarfs literally everything within a three-mile radius, and who’s annual leaf dump literally and absolutely buries every living (and nonliving) thing not only in my back yard, but in at least three other back yards on either side. But that’s okay. We’ll be ready for it. We’ll go to Home Depot and corner the market again, this time on every new fangled rake, blower and gas-powered picker-upper imaginable, right? Yep, we certainly will. We’re still outdoorsy types who know we‘re gonna be shut-ins again, and nothing—nothing—is gonna turn our Summer Utopias into Fall nightmares one moment sooner than they have to be, including Fall.

Speaking of Fall, there is nothing more depressing to a cold-weather hater like myself than to hear the furnace kick on in the morning. Almost as bad is knowing that the idiot-proof flowers you spent a small fortune on in the Spring and then cursed and grudgingly coaxed into living throughout the Summer are at that very moment being turned into frosty flowersicles. But so it goes, right? Seasons change and we have to change with them. So it’s into the closet to dig out the coats we’d happily stuffed away during our Spring cleaning days that seem like… oh, I dunno—last week, maybe? And while we’re in there, we may as well get out boots and hats and scarves, and our flannel sheets and comforters as well. Oh, and let’s not forget the leftover window Saran Wrap-like stuff—the stuff that takes us an hour to put up and our cats a second to shred down. And the ice picks—don‘t forget the ice picks. After all, we’ll need something that’ll chip assorted frozen foodstuffs out of the bottoms of our mailboxes, left courtesy of that knee-slappingly funny teenager who unfortunately still lives next door.

But most importantly, Fall brings thoughts of renewed ambition. Specifically, writing! We may as well, yes? I mean, what else will we have to do? So enjoy it. Clean that thing you call a writing desk and then stock up on paper, pens, stamps and sticky-notes. And while you’re at it, don’t forget a warm throw blanket and a bag of hotdog buns. After all, it’s Fall!

Is it in your soul?

2007-09-05T08:46:00.000-07:00

If you’d like to sing along, here’re the lyrics:

Ever since I was a little kid
I have always thought
I could run faster than the wind
Stare up to the sky with open spaces
I could live and die
Man you can't find that in no book
You never find that in no book
Someone will drag you down
And try to knock you under
Hey mama said with her words of wonder
Don't matter cause, cause it's in your soul

(I have always felt
That I had to prove it to myself)
No salvation from the firin' line
(A million dreams won't set you free)
God I know there's something trapped in me
There's no refuge from the ride
No shelter ever saved a man his pride
(Give you pain and never feed you hunger
I won't close my eyes when it rain and thunders)
Don't matter cause, cause it's in your soul

(And when the night is overcome
And I've been racin' down a road
That's got no trace, no face
If I could live by the words I've sung
And carry all the choices I've made)
I swear, I swear I'll be there

'O no no, na na
Hey mister don't shadow box with me
'Cause I don't wanna someday be
An old man cursin' what I might have been
Now I realize what I see
That the wind was never chasin' me
And I don't feel so alone
I can close my eyes I'm goin' home

(Behind the clouds the sun is shinin'
Some rain will fall no use in cryin')
'O no
'O no not me
(Got a picture in my head that won't let go of)
Young man running in search of
Count your blessings
'Cause it's in your soul
'O it's in your soul
[Soul]
In your soul
'O no
[In your soul]
Ever since I was a little kid
I have always thought
[Ah he always thought]
Young man running
[Always thought]
Keep on running - and a running - and a running
Keep on running

BBQ!

2007-06-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

After months of cold and rainy weather, we are finally coming up to summer and BBQ season.

Therefore it is important to refresh your memory on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity, as it's the only type of cooking a 'real' man will do, probably because there is an element of danger involved.

When a man volunteers to do the BBQ the following chain of events are put into motion:

Routine...

1) The woman buys the food.

2) The woman makes the salad, prepares the vegetables, and makes dessert.

3) The woman prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill - beer in hand.

Here comes the important part:

4) THE MAN PLACES THE MEAT ON THE GRILL.

More routine....

5) The woman goes inside to organize the plates and cutlery.

6) The woman comes out to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks if she will bring another beer while he deals with the situation.

Important again:

7) THE MAN TAKES THE MEAT OFF THE GRILL AND HANDS IT TO THE WOMAN.

More routine....

8) The woman prepares the plates, salad, bread, utensils, napkins, sauces, and brings them to the table.

9) After eating, the woman clears the table and does the dishes.

And most important of all:

10) Everyone PRAISES the MAN and THANKS HIM for his cooking efforts.

11) The man asks the woman how she enjoyed "her night off." And, upon seeing her annoyed reaction, concludes that there's just no pleasing some women....

Why Do Women...

2007-06-20T09:42:00.000-07:00

(This giggle was sent to me this morning by my sister. Thanks, Val.)

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of
women, so you smile politely and take your place. Once it's your turn,
you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.
Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman
leaving the stall.

You get in to find the door won't latch. It doesn't matter, the wait has
been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the
modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but
empty. You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but
there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck,
(Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down
your pants, and assume " The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd
love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or
lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you
discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser. In your mind, you can
hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the
seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake
more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday - the
one that's still in your purse. (Oh yeah, the purse around your neck,
that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same
time). That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way
possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail.

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door
hits your head, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of
the toilet. "Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your
precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your
footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is
wet of course. You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.
Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life
form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not
that there was any, even if you had taken time to try. You know that your
mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her
bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear,
"You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get."

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so
confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose
against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that
covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush
somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the
empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too. At this
point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet
seat. You're exhausted. You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in
your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic
sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk
past the line of women, still waiting. You are no longer able to smile
politely to them. A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a
piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe. (Where was that when you
NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's
hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this." As you exit,
you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used and left the men's
restroom. Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse
hanging around your neck?"

*

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms
(rest?? you've got to be kidding!). It finally explains to the men
what really does take us so long. It also answers the age-old question about why women go to the restroom in pairs. It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

If I'm going to get my "Woman's Card" revoked for spilling a secret, I blame Val. Take hers !

Inspiration, Part II

2007-06-13T20:40:00.000-07:00

Do you remember talking about inspiration? Well there I was, searching and researching today when I ran across these: Chinese Scholar’s Mountain, and Chinese Scholar’s Wood and Stones (Spirit Stones). Seems long before the computer came, writers were also looking for inspiration and didn’t want to (or perhaps couldn‘t afford to) leave home to find it. So they used the next best thing.

Chinese Scholar Stone or Scholar Mountain were created sometime in the 18th century. Normally made of jade, or in rare instances malachite, they were made for Chinese scholars who were constantly cooped up in small study spaces. The scholar would place the stone on his desk to help envision himself in nature. The carvings in the stone (below), though not easily seen here, depict a scholar attended by two figures, picnicking and heading towards a pagoda retreat. The other side of the stone features an ox, which stands for enlightenment, and pine trees, which represent long life. This particular one is carved out of malachite, making it especially rare.

Cherished and collected for centuries, Chinese "Scholar's Rocks" or "Spirit Stones" (gongshi) are as varied as Nature herself. Strange or fantastic stones (guai shi) are used in classical Chinese gardens as necessary counterpoints to the trees, bushes, flowers, and water. Throughout the centuries, scholars, nobles and officials have graced their offices and studies with smaller versions of these "fantastic stones," both to provide the essence (or qi) of the element earth, and to serve as a unique focal point for study and meditation. These small spirit stones were hand-selected in China, and set on wood stands to hold their highly individual shapes.

So if you’ve been wondering if that odd what’s-it on your desk makes you slightly “weird,” not to worry. You’re in very good company.

Literary Mary - Writing Forums

2007-06-09T23:10:00.000-07:00

Just to say, I'm a proud member of Literary Mary.

"So what is Literary Mary?" you ask.

I'm glad you asked.

Literary Mary is a friendly and unique forum for writers and artists, built by writers and artists. When you register, you are in complete control of your account and work, both of which you can delete for publication purposes as you see fit. It's our goal to create an atmosphere where people can post their work among friends for critique and feedback while those who would like to hang onto first rights can do so without risk. We also have forums for uploading spoken word or songs and forums for sharing your photographs or pretty much any other visual art. And that's not all. Just a few of this forums super features include:--

* An excellent and very approachable staff.
* Mad-skills-talented members from beginners to the published.
* Enough threads to more than satisfy writers of all walks, tastes and genres (including an Erotica thread which is age restricted and viewable by members only, and a *Secret Bonus Track* thread which is another members only thread similar to a Workshop--meaning first rights are protected in both Erotica and Bonus threads).
* A monthly members only newsletter.
* Seasonal Featured Work---the crème de la crème as chosen by the members in the categories of Poetry, Fiction, and Erotica).
* Lyrics and Music
* Debate
* Chat Forum
And much more.

So if you're a writer, artist, musician or avid reader, check out Literary Mary.

www.LiteraryMary.com

*

What's in a Name?

2007-06-01T21:45:00.000-07:00

Summer is finally here, and because of it, I decided to invade the produce section and corner the market on all things fruit. I’m a huge fruit fan. In fact, I could easily become a very bad fruitarian, were it not for my love of poached eggs and veggies (mainly spinach) and if I only had a decent memory. But I don’t. You see, one needs a decent memory to remember to take vitamins and supplements to replace those missing from such a radical dietary change. Since I don’t happen to possess one, I’d likely die of malnutrition or some related issue. (Perhaps I should have invaded the fish a la brain food section instead.)

You know, trying something new is a lot like trying a new author or genre (and yes, my thoughts always go back to writing). At least, it is for me. Either I love it or I put it down—there seems no middle ground. But anyway, back to the fruit... thing.

Funny that adults will try almost anything, but kids won’t eat anything that doesn’t look right, or rather, doesn’t look right after it’s cooked. Take broccoli. Or spinach. Or turnips. Or, horror of horrors, Brussels Sprouts. Heck, take me and mushrooms for instance. I still remember the sight of my first cooked mushroom. Pan-fried slugs, I thought. No way am I eating that, I thought. Mom’s finally flipped out. After mom served it numerous times, always with the threat that I’d “never leave the table” until I try it (and after an hour each time of making gag noises and facial expressions that would make Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes proud—ones that made my mom beg me to go outside), I finally tried one—just one. See, a kid has to build up to these things as dramatically and as vocally as possible, and that means letting your audience (the same one who’d inadvertently turned herself into a captive audience via my captivity; after all, someone had to actually watch me eat the mushroom you know) wait. Let the suspense mount. Let the battle of wills play out. David and Goliath, good and evil, unknown veggie and kid. The mushroom was excellent by the way. A little cold though.

So as I was saying, I loaded up on all things fruit: Red Delicious apples, huge oranges, bananas, cantaloupe, strawberries, watermelon... and low and behold, what did I come across, but this:

I know—revolting, isn’t it. You betcha. It’s so ugly it almost screamed to be looked at it and then dared you to look away. Sort of like a car accident. Almost... alien, really. Okay, so that’s a bit of a stretch. But never in my life had I seen anything that so reminded me of the musical “Little Shop of Horrors” or maybe a pod from the movie “Invasion of the Body Snatchers” before, especially not for sale in the produce section of my lowly supermarket. Heck, I half expected it to start singing or maybe crawling toward me. I did... until a very well dressed, middle-aged woman wandered over with a plastic bag in hand and started going through the stack of them.

“I just love these!” she said to no one in particular, holding one up like she was an archeologist who’d just unearthed the long lost Egyptian “Book of the Living.” Obviously, I wasn’t seeing what she was seeing. “Don’t you?”

“What it is?” I asked, still partly expecting a tongue or harpoon-like appendage to fire out the top and adhere to her face.

“It’s Dragon Fruit!”

Okay then, so that name made sense. I mean, it definitely looked like something a dragon might eat. Or lay. Or... something. And the name certainly intrigued me. Then again, an intriguing title or a well-known author has often influenced my reading choices. And that very thing has disappointed me more than not, too. Same with fruit... which made me wonder if perhaps they (whoever ‘they’ are) purposely gave the hideous-looking thing a good name in order to sell it to those of us whose pallets lean toward something at least slightly aesthetically pleasing. (Prime example: I will not eat liver. End of discussion.)

“You should try one!” she said, shoving the precious what’s-it in the bag and depositing it in my cart. “Just peal off the red. The flesh inside is white-ish grey, sweet, and really seedy.”

I didn’t want to eat any of it, and I certainly didn’t want it in my cart. “Okay,” I said. “And thanks.”

“Remember—don’t eat the red.”

For a moment, I thought to ask what would happen if I did, but let it drop. Besides, my eyes were glued to the “thing” now in my cart and my mind was stuck on three key words (flesh, white-ish and grey), which to me sounded about as appealing as raw squid (no knock against raw squid lovers intended).

For those of you dying to know what it tasted like, I’m not going to tell you, anymore than I’d tell you about a novel you’ve just purchased or an author you’ve just heard about. What I will say from one writer to another, however, is never to be afraid to try new styles, new genres, new voices. New... things. You never know. You may be pleasantly surprised.

Hey, if we can't laugh at ourselves...

2007-05-23T13:48:00.000-07:00

39 Rules to Writing a Novel:

1. Avoid alliteration. Always.

2. Never use a long word when a diminutive one will do.

3. Employ the vernacular.

4. Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.

5. Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are unnecessary.

6. Remember to never split an infinitive.

7. Contractions aren't necessary.

8. Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.

9. One should never generalize.

10. Eliminate quotations. As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I hate quotations. Tell me what you know."

11. Comparisons are as bad as clichés.

12. Don't be redundant; don't use more words than necessary; it's highly superfluous.

13. Be more or less specific.

14. Understatement is always best.

15. One-word sentences? Eliminate.

16. Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.

17. The passive voice is to be avoided.

18. Go around the barn at high noon to avoid colloquialisms.

19. Even if a mixed metaphor sings, it should be derailed.

20. Who needs rhetorical questions?

21. Exaggeration is a billion times worse than understatement.

22. Don't never use a double negation.

23. capitalize every sentence and remember always end it with point

24. Do not put statements in the negative form.

25. Verbs have to agree with their subjects.

26. Proofread carefully to see if you words out.

27. If you reread your work, you can find on rereading a great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing.

28. A writer must not shift your point of view.

29. And don't start a sentence with a conjunction. (Remember, too, a preposition is a terrible word to end a sentence with.)

30. Don't overuse exclamation marks!!

31. Place pronouns as close as possible, especially in long sentences, as of 10 or more words, to the irantecedents.

32. Writing carefully, dangling participles must be avoided.

33. If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.

34. Take the bull by the hand and avoid mixing metaphors.

35. Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky.

36. Everyone should be careful to use a singular pronoun with singular nouns in their writing.

37. Always pick on the correct idiom.

38. The adverb always follows the verb.

39. Last but not least, avoid clichés like the plague; They're old hat; seek viable alternatives.

40. (Bonus Step) “There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.” ~W. Somerset Maugham

***

A linguistics professor was lecturing to his English class one day. "In English," he said, "a double negative forms a positive. In some languages, though, such as Russian, a double negative is still a negative. However, there is no language wherein a double positive can form a negative."

A voice from the back of the room piped up, "Yeah, right."

***

There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer. When asked to define great, he said, "I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!"

He now works for Microsoft writing error messages.

***

A screenwriter comes home to a burned down house. His sobbing and slightly-singed wife is standing outside. “What happened, honey?” the man asks.

“Oh, John, it was terrible,” she weeps. “I was cooking, the phone rang. It was your agent. Because I was on the phone, I didn’t notice the stove was on fire. It went up in second. Everything is gone. I nearly didn’t make it out of the house. Poor Fluffy is—”

“Wait, wait. Back up a minute,” The man says. “My agent called?”

***

How many science fiction writers does it take to change a light bulb?
Two, but it's actually the same person doing it. He went back in time and met himself in the doorway and then the first one sat on the other one's shoulder so that they were able to reach it. Then a major time paradox occurred and the entire room, light bulb, changer and all was blown out of existence. They co-existed in a parallel universe, though.

How many publishers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Three. One to screw it in. Two to hold down the author.

How many mystery writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Two. One to screw it almost all the way in, and the other to give it a surprising twist at the end.

How many screenwriters does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Why does it *have* to be changed?

How many cover blurb writers does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A VAST AND TEEMING HORDE STRETCHING FROM SEA TO SHINING SEA!!!!

***

How many screenwriters does it take to change a light bulb?
Answer: Ten.
1st draft. Hero changes light bulb.
2nd draft. Villain changes light bulb.
3rd draft. Hero stops villain from changing light bulb. Villain falls to death.
4th draft. Lose the light bulb.
5th draft. Light bulb back in. Fluorescent instead of tungsten.
6th draft. Villain breaks bulb, uses it to kill hero's mentor.
7th draft. Fluorescent not working. Back to tungsten.
8th draft. Hero forces villain to eat light bulb.
9th draft. Hero laments loss of light bulb. Doesn't change it.
10th draft. Hero changes light bulb.

***

Punctuation Parable

Dear John,
I want a man who knows what love is all about. You are generous, kind, thoughtful. People who are not like you admit to being useless and inferior.
You have ruined me for other men. I yearn for you. I have no feelings whatsoever when we're apart. I can be forever happy - will you let me be yours?

Gloria

Dear John,
I want a man who knows what love is. All about you are generous, kind, thoughtful people, who are not like you. Admit to being useless and inferior.
You have ruined me. For other men, I yearn. For you, I have no feelings whatsoever. When we're apart, I can be forever happy. Will you let me be?
Yours,

Gloria

***

And finally, Writer’s Quotes

“The difference between fiction and reality? Fiction has to make sense.”
—Tom Clancy

“I never know what I think about something until I read what I've written on it.”
—William Faulkner

“I handed in a script last year and the studio didn't change one word. The word they didn't change was on page 87.”
—Steve Martin

“I have always been a huge admirer of my own work. I'm one of the funniest and most entertaining writers I know.”
—Mel Brooks

“It took me fifteen years to discover that I had no talent for writing, but I couldn't give it up because by that time I was too famous.”
—Robert Benchley

“A writer is congenitally unable to tell the truth and that is why we call what he writes fiction.”
—William Faulkner

“The free-lance writer is the person who is paid per piece or per word or perhaps.”
—Robert Benchley

One Cup of Inspiration, Please.

2007-05-11T10:09:00.000-07:00

Ah, if it were only that simple. But really, it is.

“Inspiration is born of the need for self understanding and acceptance. We write to discover and accept who we are.” In other words, observation and experience are the tools of inspiration, but the need for self-love is its impetus.

I don’t write every day. In fact, having to write (or rather, the pressure to write) is the quickest way to do me in—I’m lousy under pressure but can write like a demon when the muse strikes me. And maybe that’s the thing. Writing just to write doesn’t necessarily make one a better writer, any more than is writing just to write better than nothing. Sometimes the ideas just aren’t there, and if you push it—if you make yourself write—often the best ideas don’t have the opportunity to form, in effect sandbagging those times when you could have walked away, relaxed, and perhaps had that brilliant “ah-ha” moment.

A dear friend pointed out that I’m “going to pop the bubble of all those ‘Write every day” people’” to which I conceded that a lot do indeed write every day, and more power to them. At the same time, how often have you heard writers say they have to think about a story? That they have to let it form and stew and come together in their mind? Tons. And I’m one of them. If I wrote the first thing that came to mind, odds are I’d go so far off track that when something really good twigged that I’d either have to discard the idea entirely, or back so far up in the story that I may as well start over. So yes, sure writing every day works for some. But it doesn’t work for everyone. Whatever works for the individual, that’s what I think; just write in the way that works best for you and to heck with what anyone else thinks.

Did you know there are a number of writers out there whose work has influenced a nation, a world, but have themselves only written one or two books? Never mind that though. Writing has to be in you, but more importantly, it as to be fun. You have to want to do it and be a happy camper while you are. If you aren’t happy, if it’s not coming to you, then why bash your head against the wall until you loath it? And yes, you can loath anything, even if you want to like it.

Think of a little kid (let’s call him Tommy) whose parents force him to practice the piano. So there little Tommy is, twenty-minutes a day, right after supper, parked in front of the piano and pounding out tunes that make the neighbors cringe. At the end of that time, he shuts the piano and walks away until tomorrow’s practice when he’ll pound it out again. Sure he might get better. Sure he’ll learn the basics. But he’ll never love it, and I guarantee you, the first chance he gets he’ll stop playing the piano and take up something else… like decorating the cat. In other words, it’s not fun, and because of that, about the only thing he’ll learn is to hate the piano with a blinding passion. Forcing yourself to write when it’s not fun and not coming to you is kind of like that—Tommy torture. At least, it is for me.

A writer never really stops writing; it just doesn’t always involve the use of a pen, pencil, or computer. Experiencing things and observation are forms of writing. Take, for instance, my mother’s day surgery, and the lady in the bed across the way who’d waited so long she fell asleep. Or the quiet man on one side of the curtain and the “talker” on the other—the one with tan shoes and matching corduroy pants… which were about all I could see of him under the curtain. Or my mother, who was so wired for sound that she turned speed talking into an art form (of course, bells suddenly going off followed a few minutes later by the announcement “Code Red, all clear! Code Red, all clear!” should get at least some of the credit.) All of them will come back to you when you need them as characters or stories that seemingly write themselves. In other words, inspiration can come from anywhere. The trick is to recognize it.

Speaking of recognizing it, do you know your own past can be a wealth of inspiration, one where “honest writing”—the best kind of writing—will come from? For example, some authors have to travel to where they are writing about. They need to smell that air, touch that earth, see that hillside. They need to feel the moment and put themselves there—right in the character’s shoes—and walk the walk. Why? Because nothing beats honest writing, and nothing is more honest that one’s own perceptions and observations. To commit sights, smells, scenery, customs and even dialect to memory so that they can write not just from research, but from personal experience. From honesty. In other words, much of their work is real, if known only to them. But not everyone can afford to jet off to who-knows-where, and it’s to those (myself included) I say you don’t need to book a plane ticket, because you have your past. Better?—it’s unique because it’s all your own. And even better still?—it comes complete with dialogue, scenery, emotion, characters and even an outcome. Voila! Instant inspiration and instant honest writing, and you didn’t have to leave home to find it.

So one cup of inspiration, please. And fill it to the brim with your own unique observations and experiences. In yourself, you will find all the inspiration you need.

Tribute

2007-05-09T19:21:00.000-07:00

This video is hilarious and I thought I’d share it with you. “This is not the greatest song in the world, no. This is just a tribute.”

Tenacious D - Tribute

My Biggest Boy

2007-05-05T16:34:00.000-07:00

Bear, Bram, Moon and Mystic have each been shown here, but Joe (Joe Glo Two) has yet to have his two seconds. So without further ado, here's my biggest boy. Say hello, Joe.

For the horsey set out there, please note that Joe's a senior horse and is wearing a Monty Foreman Training Bit—one of the best and gentlest bits on the market. Yep, people, it can be done.

Today, Their Journey Begins...

2007-05-04T17:22:00.000-07:00

My Desk Buddies

2007-04-26T18:11:00.000-07:00

Meet The New Guy.

This is Moon. (Okay, so it‘s not really him, but my camera isn’t working at the moment so this is as close to him as I can get. Will replace with his real photo as soon as I'm able.) He’s a young Double Ray (DR) Crowntail Betta and a real looker.

Meet The Old Guy.

Moon shares my writing desk (not a tank of course) with my two-year old Mystic Half-Moon Butterfly Betta (the name is longer than the darn fish!) named, of course, Mystic.

Pretty yes? You bet. But before you go rushing out to get a desk buddy Betta of your very own, please, please, please do your research. These fish are not ornaments, nor should they ever be used for our amusement or entertainment. They are living things, and to own one means to be responsible for it.

Respect all life. If not, please leave Bettas (and all future pets) to those who will respect them.

There are a million Betta sites out there, but I’ve found the following to be the most helpful:

BettaCentral
Betta Cave
Betta Talk
Tropical Fish Forums
Betta House
Betta Groups

Roots

2007-04-19T20:33:00.000-07:00

Yes, even I have roots. And now I'm going to trip over them while going down memory lane. In other words, this is my old home town of Portage La Prairie, Manitoba.

Enjoy.

Author Note: My sincere apologies for posting the photos of my old home town. When sent to me I didn't realize they were not owned by the party who sent them. Therefore, they have been removed.

Again, my apologies.

Virginia Tech

2007-04-18T17:55:00.000-07:00

Pictured: 8 pm Candlelight Vigil on the Drillfield

My thoughts and prayers are with the families and all the victims of the Virginia Tech tragedy.

April 16th Memorial Website

Virginia Tech expresses its shock and profound sorrow regarding the tragic campus shootings of April 16, 2007. To honor and remember the victims, the above website has been created so those within the university community and around the world may share condolences, thoughts, and prayers.

LiteraryMary

2007-04-07T11:13:00.000-07:00

Now you know I don’t usually recommend writing forums on The View, but this is one the exception. Introducing:—

Just a few of this forums super features include:

* An excellent and very approachable staff.
* Mad-skills-talented members from beginners to the published.
* Enough threads for writers of all walks, tastes and genres (including an Erotica thread which is age restricted and viewable by members only, and a *Secret Bonus Track* thread which is another members only thread similar to a Workshop—meaning first rights are protected in both Erotica and Bonus threads).
* A monthly newsletter.
* Seasonal Featured Work—the crème de la crème as chosen by the members in the categories of Poetry, Fiction, and Erotica).

If you write or are an avid reader and haven’t yet checked out LiteraryMary, I urge you to do so. And tell 'em I sent ya.

For All You Writers Out There:

2007-04-01T14:37:00.000-07:00

Here's something cute for you. A kind of little engine that could sort of thing, that may lift your spirits a bit and hopefully inspire you.

Love and hugs.

Pet Food Recall List and More

2007-03-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

I am an animal lover and proud owner of a sweet Golden Retriever, two cats and two horses. For those of you who haven‘t been keeping up with the latest and don't know where to get information, here are a few helpful links:

Pet Food Recall List
(Scroll down for the list of brand names.) Note: PETA is also calling for the recall of dry pet foods from these same brand names.

PETA
(People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals)

WWF
(World Wildlife Foundation)

I myself am a proud sponsor of WWF. For your convenience, the above three links will be permanently included in my Help List.

Lil Chuckle

2007-03-29T10:02:00.000-07:00

In the hospital the relatives gathered in the waiting room, where their family member lay gravely ill. Finally, the doctor came in looking tired and somber.

"I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news," he said as he surveyed the worried faces. "The only hope left for your loved one at this time is a brain transplant. It's an experimental procedure, very risky but it is the only hope.

Insurance will cover the procedure, but you will have to pay for the brain yourselves.."

The family members sat silent as they absorbed the news. After a great length of time, someone asked, "Well, how much does a brain cost?"

The doctor quickly responded, "$5,000 for a male brain, and $200 for a female brain."

The moment turned awkward. Men in the room tried not to smile, avoiding eye contact with the women, but some actually smirked.

A man unable to control his curiosity, blurted out the question everyone wanted to ask, "Why is the male brain so much more?"

The doctor smiled at the childish innocence and explained to the entire group, "It's just standard pricing procedure. We have to mark down the price of the female brains, because they've actually been used."

GROAN

2007-03-23T08:07:00.000-07:00

Say it ain't so. Say WF isn't down again.

Honestly, this is getting ridiculous.

*

It’s back. So, was that a mini sequel, or precursor?

Who, me?

2007-02-19T13:09:00.000-08:00

Ruling Planet: Mercury
Quality: Mutable
Element: Earth

Short Summary

Virgo's are one of the most misunderstood signs of the zodiac. People think they're fussy, critical bad tempered and picky but that's only because they want everything to be perfect. This is the sign of cleanliness, although lots of Virgo's have the grottiest bedrooms and hang their clothes on the floor. They're extremely inquisitive and have a dreadful time trying to relax. Virgo's make fantastic friends. If a minor crises pops up you can be sure the Virgo will have everything under control in 30 seconds. They are always on the move because they like to learn as much as they can before they take off again. They excel at work so they probably get all the boring jobs (the ones Leo wouldn't be seen dead doing)

Long Summary

Virgo's are highly intelligent, interested in everything and everyone and happy to be busy with many jobs and hobbies. Many have some kind of specialized knowledge and most are good with their hands. Their nit-picking ways can infuriate their colleagues. They find it hard to discuss their innermost feelings and this can make them hard to understand. In many ways, they are happier doing something practical than dealing with relationships. These people can overdo the self-sacrificial bit and make themselves martyrs to other people's impractical lifestyles. They are willing to fit in with whatever is going on and they can adjust to most things, but they mustn't neglect their own needs. Although excellent communicators and wonderfully witty conversationalists, Virgo's prefer to express their deepest feelings by actions rather than words. Most avoid touching all but very close friends and family members and they find lovey-dovey behavior embarrassing. These people can be very highly sexed and they may use this as a way of expressing love. Virgo's are criticized a good deal as children and are often made to feel unwelcome in their childhood homes. They in turn become very critical of others and they can use this in order to wound.

Many Virgo's overcome inhibitions by taking up acting, music, cookery or sports. Acting is particularly common to this sign because it allows them to put aside their fears and take on the mantle of someone quite different. They are shy and slow to make friends but when they do accept someone, they are the loyalist, gentlest and kindest of companions. They are great company and have a wonderful sense of humor.

Perfect Partners: Taurus, Capricorn
Nearly Perfect Partners: Cancer, Scorpio
Like Minded Souls: Virgo
Opposites You're Attracted To: Aries, Aquarius
Learn From Your Differences: Leo, Libra
Not Your Destiny: Gemini, Sagittarius
Astrological Hell: Pisces

And you are?

Check it out at:

Kelly’s Star Signs

Hello, Hal.

2007-02-18T15:27:00.000-08:00

Novels and movies such as A Space Odyssey and I, Robot have made cynicism of robotics second nature, the water-cooler thought that robots will attack humans and take over the world a collectively held view with nary a shrug.

And speaking of sci-fi and cutting edge technology (weren‘t we?), here’s something I saw on the news today that has the potential to change lives, not to mention likely has the bazillion-dollar wheelchair and scooter industry quaking on their rims. The potential here is staggering. I can only imagine what it could mean for the bed bound, the paraplegic, and the disabled. And this is only the beginning. Surely future prototypes will be smaller and so easily hidden beneath clothes. And at $20,000 a pop? I don’t think it’s an unreasonable amount when compared to scooters and hydraulic van lifts and retrofitting homes and businesses to be wheelchair or scooter accessible, etc, etc. It could even, perhaps, be subsidized (or even partially subsidized) by the government. I mean, really, think of the workforce it could regenerate. Think of the possibilities. Think of the human aspect. Please.

Now compare that to the UC Berkeley Exoskeleton video below. Note the huge differences in bulk, size, weight, obvious strain on the wearer, and aesthetics.

Amazing. Simply amazing.

When I was a teen I had a friend in a boy whose name I’ll leave out for privacy sake. He was a sweet, wonderful person from a loving family who had everything going for him.

Life doesn’t blindside you when you seem to be standing still. No, life blindsides you when you’re heady and you’re happy and you let your guard down, just once.

This proves something. That maybe there’s a plan, though it’s hard to see or understand, if ever. That maybe we need to go down certain roads, forced down them if needs be, to see what we’re made of. That maybe when you let your guard down, you leave yourself open for some crazy-ass football player to blindside you. That was more or less what happened to a friend of mine as he crossed the train tracks beside the overpass on graduation night. It came in the form of a right front tire that drifted off the pavement and struck the full rail, his car coming to a stop on its roof. As you can imagine, it was a long and slow road to recovery—one full of unfathomable pain and depression.

Now years later, and he has overcome so much. He’s married (though he bet good money that would never happen) and a family man (though the doctors said it was impossible). Best of all, he’s again that sweet, wonderful person from a loving family who has everything going for him... but one. He’d like to someday walk with his children. It’s for him, and people like him, that I hope this suit succeeds.

Why Canadians Are So Tired

2007-02-11T10:44:00.000-08:00

(Thanks for sending this, Val.)

No wonder we're so tired!

The population of Canadais 30 million.
11 million are retired, that leaves 19 million to do the work.
There are 5.5 million in school, which leaves 13.5 million to do
the work.

Of this there are 3 million employed by the federal government,
leaving 10.5 million to do the work.

1 million are in the armed forces, preoccupied with killing
Terrorists, which leaves 9.5 million to do the work.

Take from that total the 7 million people who work for Provincial
and city Governments, and that leaves 2.5 million to do the work.

At any given time, there are 476,000 people in hospitals, leaving
2,024,000 to do the work.

Now, there are 1,211,998 people in prisons and 812,000 on Employment
Insurance and Welfare.

That leaves just two people to do the work.

You and me.

And there you are sitting on your ass, at your computer, reading
jokes.

Nice.

Real nice.

A Change Will Do You Good

2007-02-08T17:50:00.000-08:00

First, my apologies for neglecting to post for the last little while. I promise to do better in the future. In fact, I’m currently at work on the next installment of To Write and will post it Monday (hopefully). Second, no doubt you’ve noticed the header change at the top. Like the song by the same name says: a change will do you good. And it did. Hope you like.

Speaking of changes, I’ve changed my style, my mind, my opinion, my stand, my hairstyle, my pen name, my clothes and just about everything else over the years, including my car.

The first car I ever owned was a Plymouth Satellite Sebring Plus V8. She was metallic black with white pin striping and white leather interior (oh baby!) and was used—sure—but so little she was mint. I loved that car. Babied that car. Washed it and waxed it and vacuumed it and was one of those annoying drivers who parked sideways to avoid dings… and when my mom wanted a New Yorker, I reluctantly traded it. So what happened to her? The guy that bought her jacked up the back, slapped on some mags, and ended up rolling and totaling her within a month. Damn shame, that.

Then there was my dad, who use to practically live by the old saying: “If there’s a will, there’s a way.” To understand how this ties into the change theme here, this was a man who installed mom’s brand new dishwasher before dishwashers were installable. I remember standing in the basement holding this and that water pipe while he soldered them together, proud as all-get-out that he’d asked me to help him do something professional plumbers swore up and down could not be done. Of course after it was, they came to the house in droves, looked it all over, and then went about making a fortune while he received none of the credit. Kind of the same way he blueprinted the first snowplow to fit train engines in the yards because he was tired of taking men away from their tasks to shovel the tracks by hand (he was a car inspector with the railway back then, checking cars for hot wheels, etc., and ordering them off the track when they weren’t A-1). It didn’t matter to dad that he wasn’t recognized for it, only that having it made everyone’s job that much easier. (I don't come from stupid people, just modest ones. *grin*)

Not that a new header is on the same par with my dad’s achievements, nor will it make my job easier. I just like it. And who knows? It could be the start of something better.

I interrupt this blog for a very important question...

2007-01-09T21:50:00.000-08:00

*
*

WF, WHERE ARE YOU?

Now, back to my regularly scheduled blog.

***Update: WF is now back online.***

*
*

Augment - By Chris Miller

2007-01-08T16:56:00.000-08:00

Certain things in life are private, personal, and not open to sharing: bank account statements, take-home pay stubs, sexual exploits (or lack thereof), journals/blogs. But when Chris Miller (see My Must Reads—Blogs from the War Room) mentioned writing "not a rebuttal, but something to augment [my To Write post]" I insisted on putting it up here, in its entirety and without comment. So with thanks (again), here's Chris:

~

Just received my two complimentary copies of Cosmos—The Science of Everything in the mail, and seen, for the first time, a story of mine in a commercial publication. What a rush. They did a fantastic job—commissioned Tristan Schane to do this amazing 12x24 oil painting for it, which she told me took her 3 weeks including research and thinking. Even got my name at the bottom of the cover: FICTION BY CHRISTOPHER K. MILLER & LIZ MARTIN. And now I’m thinking Liz wishes her parents had given her a longer name.

Yeah I’ll crash and fade into reality soon enough. But this morning I’m feeling pretty professional and swell. Tallying up my income from the last two years of writing I see I’ve earned 800 + 75 + 10 + 10 + 10 dollars, less Paypal deductions and one three-dollar entry fee. So I’ve earned 905 dollars in two years, mostly in US funds, but also one Amazon gift certificate. That’s over 25 cents an hour probably… or maybe not… but it still qualifies me as a pro, and so it’s from this lofty perch that I now share everything I think I’ve learned about creative writing.

Instead of just enumerating all the “mistakes” I see beginners make on the forums over and over and saying “don’t do that,” I’m going to look at these as part of a growth process, an important stage in each person’s development as a writer. I’m pretty sure every new writer fantasizes about popular acclaim and financial success. I know I do. But the real underlying reason I write is to remember, think and feel. To grow. Writing puts me in touch with my memories, thoughts and emotions. It exercises my imagination. Also, as the owner of a pretty annoying obsessive-compulsive personality, I’ve wrestled a few addictions in my life. I know a thing or two about addiction. Writing is a heady drug.

This brings me to my first (and also last) stage of writing:

Self Gratification

Writing is like sex. For most of us, our first experience probably does not involve anyone else. My first character is based on me. He has my views and opinions. In fact, initially, all he does is expound my views and opine my opinions. Later, I will introduce other characters to rescue, kill, hang out or have sex with—depending on my mood. If I like to drink, I’ll drink a lot. If I like to make out, I’ll do that.

Of course I will not begin by just blurting out, “I got drunk and Mary let me feel her breasts.” I am a literary writer. Mood and setting are important. Preparation is important. As a literary writer, I am very concerned with choosing, not just the right words, but as many of them as possible. I will make sure that every noun has a weighty adjective or two in front of it and that for every verb there is an adverb. I will expand my vocabulary. I will clarify everything. The sun will not merely set into the pines. Oh, no. The crimson orb of the smoldering globular sun will plummet into the towering verdant trees of the ominous dark forest like a double-banked three-ball dropping into the side pocket. See how much better that is, especially the part about the three-ball, because I like to play pool too. I will have depth. I will explain that my feelings for Mary reach right down to the very core of my essence. I will try to use the words “shards” and “soul” in connection with this if I can. Probably I will try to work in a moral lesson too so that if my mom reads it she’ll see how mature and wise and sensitive I’ve turned out. Then I’ll feel her tits (Mary’s, not my mom’s). Then I’ll jerk off. There’s nothing wrong with the self gratification stage of writing. Many popular authors never leave it. And, no matter how much I evolve as a writer, it will always be a part of my work. Just as we as humans still contain elements of the life forms from which we evolved.

Sympathy

I’m still using too many adjectives and mixing up its and it’s, and your and you’re. Maybe my quote tag punctuation’s still a little screwy. But I’ve started to twig that others do not enjoy reading my work as much as I or my mom do. That my readers, like my friends, don’t care how deeply I love Mary, or that her eyes are like bottomless woodland pools, or that her sweet laughter’s as infectious as Chlamydia. They just want to know how far she let me go and what was said before, during and after, including the embarrassing stuff—especially the embarrassing stuff. And while I’d like things to go smoothly and be told how great I am and how no one’s ever satisfied her like that before, my friends would rather I unloaded in my shorts but still somehow caught Herpes and made her pregnant so that now her big brother who’s a biker is looking to kick my ass. I’ve come to see that my difficulties and failures are much more interesting than my achievements. Suffering is more entertaining than comfort. Really, anything is more entertaining than comfort.

Disassociation

I’ve come to realize that not only do I not know how my characters feel, I don’t care. No one does. We only care how we ourselves would feel in their situations. To read that “Mary was terribly, terribly unhappy” does not evoke much feeling in me. But to read that “Mary butted her cigarette high inside her thigh and sighed,” gets me imagining how she felt. That just telling how my characters feel kind of ruins it for me. Even in the first person, where I know my narrator’s thoughts and memories, I really don’t know him any better than my readers do, or he himself does. That we must discover him, and thereby ourselves, together in our own ways. Writing is getting harder now. It was a LOT easier finding interesting words than it is finding interesting sentences. It was a lot easier fantasizing than living too.

Clarity and Concision

I’m learning better what to leave out, what should be left to the reader. I’ve also started to ease up on the turgid descriptors and to use contractions more. I don’t write “might have” when “might’ve” will do, or “there is” when “there’s” works. I use possessives more. And hyphens. Now, instead of writing, “The yellowing wallpaper on the walls of Mary’s bedroom with roses on it was probably older than she was,” I might write, “Mary’s bedroom’s yellowing rose-print wallpaper was…” Clarity and concision often go hand in hand. I’ve discovered that words can also be saved by combining sentences or using sentence fragments. And by mixing these up, my prose will be less monotonous. If I want to give extra impact to a sentence, I make it short and precede it with a run-on.

Writing just keeps getting harder. Because now that I’m writing simply and concisely, it’s easier to see that a lot of it just isn’t interesting. Mary took a cigarette out of her purse and asked me for a light. I pushed the car’s lighter in with my knee. Then together, we waited for it to pop back out. When it did, I pulled it from the dash and held it out to her… ah who cares. Keeping word count down is not about staying under competition limits and within submissions guidelines. It’s about letting your reader do less work for the same or better bang.

Credibility and Patience

In place of grandiloquent descriptors and flat narrative, I’m starting to use specifics. But specifics take research, a kind of expertise. And I don’t know anything about wallpaper patterns or the ’83 Chevy Impala. I don’t know anything about antiques or horses or modern art either, or what the name of Nashville’s college football team is, or whether or not Chicago’s Wrigley Field has a Jumbotron, or how to make ricin, or what life’s like in the Gaza strip. But if I want my stories and characters to seem real, I have to find out. This was probably a LOT harder before the internet. I’ve also stopped posting pieces I wrote in half-an-hour, or a day-and-a-half. Writing is about ideas and idea density. I’m not talking about scientific facts, philosophical musings and personal epiphanies, although these can be good too. Ideas can be apt and even poetic descriptions, connecting seemingly disparate things, character nuances, and even clever turns of phrase. An idea is anything that clicks. I now know that I will probably read everything I write dozens if not hundreds of times. If nothing clicks in a sentence, why make myself suffer through it again and again? Wouldn’t my story—my life—be better off without it? Maybe it’s necessary to know that Fred drove home from the office, took off his shoes, patted his dog, took a leak and poured himself a rye and ginger before turning on the TV and seeing that he’d just won the Powerball lottery. But maybe it isn’t.

So I’m asking myself, how do I resolve concision and patience? I don’t want idealess sentences and a lot of empty descriptors. But I don’t want my stories to rush childishly and breathlessly forward in an “and then… and then… and then” sort of way either. Details like leaves falling or birds nesting or a boy throwing a newspaper onto your driveway from his bicycle can be used to put the reader in a scene and make the narrative less linear. But they can also bore and distract. Here’s how I decide. If I’m incorporating sentences only to get my story from point A to point B, it’s poor concision, flat and weak. Trying to connect all my scenes into one big duller one is a bad thing. But if I’m using them as sort of non sequiturs or asides to pace or broaden a scene, they’re probably indicative of patience, poetic and okay.

Cohesion and Depth

So I’ve described an interesting and believable series of events involving real and likable (and hate-able) characters, but because these events are unrelated (except that they all happen to the same guy) my story’s only an entertaining anecdote. It doesn’t mean anything. Doesn’t penetrate. This is where motif, symbol and allegory come into play. They connect the pieces of my story, and my story to the world at large. Say Mary’s biker brother beats me up after I’ve come in my boxers and she’s given me Herpes and I’ve made her pregnant. This is interesting. Readers might enjoy seeing this happen. Now suppose it was this biker brother who gave her the Herpes. Now readers can see how my premature ejaculation and general embarrassment, naivety and inexperience might’ve been a sort of relief and change of pace for her and is what actually allowed me to move on around the bases and knock her up. Even if I can’t see it—especially if I can’t. By connecting the biker brother to the story and promoting Herpes to a motif, suddenly the conflict and characters are deepened. Suppose Mary and I wander bare-legged into a patch of stinging nettles while walking in the woods. Stinging becomes a connecting theme. Our infatuation has allowed us to become trapped in this painful situation. Maybe I pick her up and carry her out. Maybe I try to stop her from burning her thigh with her cigarette. See how suddenly, because of this stinging/burning motif or symbol, actions take on deeper meanings? The more elements of a story that are tied together, the deeper it’ll run. An allegory to Cupid’s stinging arrow might strengthen the motif. That the baby might not be mine, but instead her father’s (this is one dysfunctional family), could connect my Mary to the Virgin Mary. I try to connect a story’s elements through plot, motif, allusion, and poetic devices like simile and metaphor. The more I can tell a story in terms of itself and allegory the deeper it will become.

Self Gratification (again)

To me, a lot of professional writers, especially novelists, are the equivalent of good mall landscape painters. They crank out the same content and quality over and over. If I want to earn a living writing, I’ll have to learn to do this—to write for the largest demographic. I’ll have to read what sells and try to mimic it in some original, but not too original, way. Then I’ll have to market myself. This has gotten a lot harder. With the internet and word processing, more and more people are writing and entertain hopes of striking it rich and becoming famous. It’s harder to find an agent today than it used to be to find publishers. It might be helpful to work up a CV by winning competitions and getting credible smaller publications under my belt. To do this I’ll need to read the magazines I target and winners of the competitions I wish to enter so that I can emulate their styles and themes.

But this all strikes me as a lot of work that, while it might see me more widely read, will not really improve me as a writer or a person. One can have too many lovers. And I would rather “publish” to a few trusted others who know me and who’ll share their minds and eyes than millions of strangers who give nothing. This is what’s gratifying. And, paradoxically, I can’t help but feel that this is the path to success.

To Write

2007-01-04T10:09:00.000-08:00

In the beginning man created the written word, and it was good.

Actually, and depending on who you’re talking to, man started out with clicks and squeals, moved up to grunts and groans, then moved further still to finger-painting and clubbing thy neighbor to death. But that’s not what this post is about. Believe it or not, this is about the wonderful world of fiction writing.

I figure I must have had something worthwhile to say about writing at some point, because The View and The Quill were created as a sort of writing duality—one for thoughts and one for a few works respectively—yet it seems I’ve dropped the ball. My apologies. So for the next while I’m going to post a few of my disjointed thoughts, personal pet peeves and things I’ve learned along the way, with a few memories thrown in to (hopefully) keep it interesting. Not that you should listen to everything I say thinking I know all about what I do, because I don’t—no writer does. As a matter of fact, feel free to agree or disagree with any and all of what will follow because, hey, that’s what makes the world go ‘round. As for me, I just do what I do and it seems to work. Of course, when it doesn’t, I’m as much in the dark as the next writer. I am, after all, still learning my chops and hopefully always will be; the day I stop learning is the day I stop writing altogether and take up wire jewelry making. That said, I reserve the right to add or delete to this list as necessary.

“But my mom says I’m a fantastic writer,” some of you may say, “so I don’t need your crummy tips.”

Wow, that’s really great. Let me know how the wire jewelry making business goes, will you?

For everyone else, let’s start where everything should: in the beginning. And what better place to begin than with…

Part One:
The Nifty Idea

I’m always astounded when I hear people say things like “I lived on 18th street back in ‘87, and I remember the day when…” mainly because I have no idea where I was or what I was doing at anytime in my life. Okay, that’s not completely true. I remember the things and times that had the most impact.

My dad (Kenneth Henry, to whom the saying “There is always a way” was a way of life, is thirteen years past) had a memory that rivaled computers. Mine is so bad that I’m lucky to remember what I had for lunch by dinnertime, never mind original story ideas (two or three or five previously unrelated ideas that come together and create something new) which seem to come from nowhere and, if not recognized and captured quickly enough, flit off to find another writer who will recognize and capture them. And use them. And someday you’ll read that story in a fancy-shmancy magazine or bestselling novel and never know what could have been.

Scary, huh?

Unless you have a memory like my dad had, make sure you write that original story idea down. It doesn’t matter if it’s on a napkin, your hand, or the back of your over-due hydro bill. Just make sure it’s written. As a matter of fact, one good tip is to have something to write on, and something to write with, in places where you’ll wish you had them, such as your pocket, your car, your bedside table, even your washroom. There’s nothing more frustrating than losing what could have been a really good idea for the lack of a ten cent pencil.

Right. So it’s written. Now what?

This is where you take your nifty idea and start adding to it. And one of the best ways I’ve found of doing that is to play the “What if” game.

Part Two:
The “What If” Game

Take “Hurtful Things” as a for-instance. I was lying in bed one night, wide awake and thinking about my childhood. Specifically, I was thinking about the old fellow who’d lived at the end of our street and how afraid we neighborhood kids had been of him. Anyway, so I got to thinking about all our errant baseballs that ended up in his yard and so in his house, and that if he was still alive, his basement must be full of them. Then I started thinking, “What if he took our baseballs as a way to keep us from nosing around his house?” (Bingo! Original idea.) That, of course, lead to even more “What if” questions, and from there, the story grew. Not that it wrote itself, mind you, or even came out exactly as planned. Then again, they never do.

Just to sidestep for a moment. It’s about here where the self-important know-it-all’s go off on long-winded tirades about the hard and fast rules of writing based on their “extensive” education and experience, which amounts to a lot of bean hills. Truth is, all rules can/will/or have been broken. So really, there are no steadfast rules of writing, only preferences of the writer, editor and, more importantly, the reader. (If you don’t believe me, look up “Götz and Meyer” by David Albahari, a novel composed of one continuous paragraph that runs over 167 pages). And thank goodness for that. If everything (and I’m talking perfectly formed sentence structure and the negation of passive voice, etc., etc.) were the same, there would be no need for the John Saul’s, Tom Clancy’s, or David Albahari’s of this world. Nothing would be unique. Nothing would be special. Nothing would stand over the others. Okay, so the plots, characters and ideas might, but not much else. Not to mention the dictionary would never have to be revised. But the reality is that a story is as individual as the reader; each reader hoping to be taken on a journey and each author hoping their story will meet that need.

On that note, here’s as good a place as any to throw in a few of my personal Pet Peeves. (Don’t panic if you don’t know what I mean; I’ll go into each of them a little later.)

*The first rule of writing is show, don’t tell. Don’t tell me she is a talented musician. Show me the crowd cheering, etc. Give me (the reader) something to feel and believe, via action and/or dialogue. We readers need details such as thoughts and/or feelings; we need to smell the theater, hear the applause, feel the pride and not just be told the character is proud. Anything less cheats us from experiencing your story. Dialogue is another area where you have the opportunity to show or to tell. Creative dialogue tags (barked, murmured) is telling, not showing. Let dialogue, along with accompanying action, show the tone of voice and the emotion.

* The best dialogue attribution is said, as in he said she said, etc., not he cried angrily, she shouted hastily, they growled malevolently, he gasped stupidly (although I myself have been guilty of the later a time or ten).

* The writer’s love affair with certain words such as as (as if, as though), like (often used in place of as if and as though), that, and the ultimate—and. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with using them. Just please be aware of them and don't abuse them.

* Clichés (also called “Purple Prose:” a lot of fluff with little substance). Don’t use them. Please.

* Guide the reader through the story, don’t drag them through it—meaning don’t describe every little detail, ad nauseum. The reader’s imagination is far more powerful than any words a writer can come up with.

* Don’t write down to the reader—they are smarter than you think. By the same token, don’t overdress your work with fancy vocabulary just because you think you should or you’re embarrassed about the short words you‘ve used. Write plainly and directly, and use the basic rule of vocabulary: use the first word that comes to mind, as long as it is colorful and appropriate. No need to say A semi-autonomous, convulsive expulsion of air erupted from her nose and mouth when you really mean She sneezed.

* Don’t clutter up your work with every flowery prose, cliché, adjective and adverb possible (also known as “Purple Prose”). I’m not saying to barebones it, but omitting needless words is best. And while we’re on the subject of omitting needless words, when you rewrite, take out all the things that are not the story, repeats, and anything that does the reader‘s thinking for them.

* Research, research, research. Readers demand authenticity so you’d better know what you’re writing about.

* Exclamation points in dialogue without tags (in lieu of screamed/ranted, etc.) is okay, but that’s about it. Of course (and depending on who you listen to), the jury is still out on that one. The one thing we can all agree on, however, is that using exclamation points excessively is the mark of an inexperienced writer.

* Don’t do an info dump. Spread the information out in the story. The same can be said about prologues, which also tend to be information dumps.

* Don’t use your grammar check as the know-all source. Run-on sentences and fragments break up the format and so make the read more interesting (if done properly). Fragments are also used to create clear images, emphasis, streamline narration, speed up the read, and add drama and/or tension, etc., etc. Remember, good fiction isn’t grammatical correctness, but brief escapes from real life.

* Tense changes (from past to present) within a paragraph/scene are not acceptable.

* Spell check everything. Then check it again. If you don’t have a spell check, get one. When in doubt (say, if the spell check removes hyphens between compound adjectives that precede a noun, such as “black-haired woman“) and you happen to use Microsoft Works Word Processor like I do, try typing the two words as one (blackhaired) and then hover your curser over it and right click to display options.

* Oh, and one more thing (for now). Always start a new line for each person who speaks.

Okay, so back to the subject. By now your story has grown from an idea to a bit of a framework. Congratulations! Now write that down. And keep adding to it. No worries about the story not gaining enough weight at this point. It will gain as you write it, as you get onto your character/s and decide on all the little idiosyncrasies (not to mention background, settings, twists, and all the unexpected sidetracks every story takes no matter how solid the framework).

Part Three:
The Opening’s The Thing

A lot of newer writers strive for the perfect title, believing it is the ticket to making or breaking the story. Ah, but not so. Coming up with the greatest title of all time won’t mean squat if the reader can’t get past (or rather, into) the first few paragraphs. And the quickest way to turn them off is with a heap of clichés, adjectives, adverbs and flowery prose—a common mistake of the newer writer. Not that flowery is nice, but I don't really care that the fluffy cloud glimmered like a thousand cut diamonds in a crystal stream—you know? Glinted, shone, sparkled, blinded, tore the eyes out... Eesh. Therefore, some of the best advice I can give is to write your opening paragraph, save it, make a copy and, in that, delete every flowery prose, cliché, adjective and adverb you find. Seriously. (Well, I do have better advice, but I’ll get into that later.) Now read the two aloud and compare them. Which reads better to you? If the copy didn’t read better than the original I’ll…I’ll… Well I’ll do something. Just not sure what, right now.

Fine, fine, I’ll give you an example. Let’s see…

Gus hardly ever talks about himself, or why he’s here, just doing his job, but he likes to tell the story of who he calls “The Guilty Innocent.” He does it with just the right flair, as if to say, “Now this time you try keepin’ up with me, Trevor—you try as hard as you can, okay?” He’ll sometimes tell the story while I’m sitting on what passes as a bed here and scratching my ear, him standing just inside the door, the one that rarely opens. I usually laugh when he tells the story, which always ends with some nonsense about a ladder and a car accident. It’s a entertaining sort of story, even if you have heard it a million times. Not that I want to hear it again.

Good or bad, that is the unedited opening for a WIP (work in progress) short story of mine called (obviously) “The Guilty Innocent.” Note that it is all but devoid of clichés, adjectives or adverbs. Why? Because there was no need to describe the bed, his ear, the car accident, or anything else; it’s a given (via reader imagination filling in the blanks) that the bed was hard, his ear was itchy, the car accident was horrific, etc., without going into further detail. In other words, what I’m doing here is trying to engage the reader’s mind. More clutter equals less reader imagination needed to fill in the blanks and so the less engagement. Ta da!

While we’re here, we’d better touch on The First Sentence. It is, without a doubt, the most important sentence of your story. It is what writers sweat over. It is what they will change a half dozen times. It is what they’ll either crow over or kick themselves over…and if you don’t believe me, ask a writer. The first sentence is the single hardest line in the story to write. Why? Because that is the reader’s first introduction/impression to the story—the greeter at the door, if you will. It’s also the hook that will hopefully make the reader want to read the second line and every line thereafter. Therefore, it needs to be poignant, something that opens that fictional door to the entire story, something that makes the reader want to read beyond. But that’s not to say it has to be long or even flowery. My own personal favorite is quite simple and at the same time pretty much captures the sentiment of the story: It happened because Nathan was an asshole.

A word of advice (re: the first sentence/paragraph): avoid any and all mention of the weather.

Another word of advice (re: for the entire story): read everything you write aloud, including the dialogue. Listen to the words. If it does not sound right to you, it will not sound right to the reader.

More later.