The Pyrenees---Southern France

The Pyrenees---Southern France

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

WWADD

           What would a dog do? 

        If we lived our lives like a dog lives their life, the world would be a better place. We'd be happy with the same food every day. We'd wag our tail a lot. We'd be happy even if our walk was occasionally cut short and wouldn't whine about it.  We'd sniff each other's butts and...Okay, perhaps that is one canine habit we don't have to adopt.

Foley---not the brightest bulb...I think he's looking up at the sun,
thinking, 'Hey!  That's a really huge ball. I wonder when they'll throw it for me?'

         On Sunday we had a family get-together at my mother-in-law's; since she lives just a couple of blocks from us, at some point, my husband got Foley and brought him down.

      My granddaughter, who's five, loved the idea of being in charge of someone/something else. After all, she's told all day what to do and how to do it and when to do it. So she was enthralled with being able to walk Foley around on his leash.

     Unfortunately, Foley was not thrilled. He was in a fenced-in yard. 'What's with the leash?' he wondered. He wanted to play ball. Being led around by a little kid was stupid, from his perspective.

      But he tolerated it. And made the best of the situation. As Riley walked him around, he got to smell a few good smells. There were breaks where she'd drop the leash and he'd get to chase the ball for a while.

       As writers, as teachers, as humans doing their best to keep their head above the water--here's my lame analogy, Hope--we try to make a bad situation work for us. If we get a piece rejected, we revise it so we can submit it to a different publication. If we face writer's block head on, we put the piece away for a while and let it marinade. If we get a story shot down, we tweak it, we revamp it, and send it out again.

       Be like Foley. Turn a negative situation inside out...Put a positive spin on it. And don't stop trying...

Monday, May 30, 2011

Only 26 More to Go...

photo by miss kathryn
(What is wrong with Miss Kathryn?  Why is her desk so clean?)


         I am quite proud of my smidgen of productivity. Today I submitted two pieces. The story I sent off to Thin Threads (thank you, Lisa Ricard Claro *) was actually 5 1/2 hours early. (It had a deadline of today; I figured "today" extended to midnight, and since I sent if off at 6:30 tonight, I was working way ahead of schedule...for me.) 

        This was a piece I really wrestled with. It had too many words, so once I finished getting it down, I had to carve and whittle away at it. And the way the parts fit together clumsily...this piece was a PITA! ** I sent it to a friend who gave me great suggestions. In the end, I was satisfied with it (for now).

         I also sent a story off to Chicken Soup for the Soul. To be completely honest, this was a story I've had on the backburner for a while. It only needed some minor tweaking. But still, I'm counting it as a second submission in one day.

        And I felt like a busy bee until I read that today, Linda O'Connell wrote and sent off 28 submissions. *** IN ONE DAY! How in the world does she do it?

         But if you check out her blog, you realize that she has so many places where she has been published, she has a 2nd and 3rd blog just so they all can be listed.  Amazing!

         I have another Chicken Soup piece in mind that I'm going to start tonight. And if I'm going to catch up with Linda, I guess I'd better write fast...


* If you haven't used it yet, click on the "Writers--Paying Markets" button at the top right of Lisa's blog. She got me on the trail of Becky Haigler and Silver Boomer Books (I have a story in their patriotic anthology coming out this summer!).  I guess when I make some big money, I'll have to give Lisa a cut...

** You don't know what PITA means?  Not that lovely soft bread-like stuff that can be filled and eaten like a sandwich. In this instance, PITA stands for "pain in the ___."

*** Okay, this was a slight exaggeration, but not by much. There was a day recently where Linda wrote and submitted seven essays! IN ONE DAY! Geez! I'm starting to get suspicious...

(All of a sudden, Linda's litte granddaughter Nicole has popped up with great frequency. I wonder...Has Linda trained that little doll to tap away on the computer?  Has Linda set up her own version of a sweatshop as she keeps Nicole chained to the computer keyboard?  That way, Linda could be working on another story while she dictates a story to Nicole...I think I need to call the authorities...Oops, I can't take time out for that---I need to work on another submission...)




          

Saturday, May 28, 2011

Dog Heaven

Dog Heaven
        There is a picture book by Cynthia Rylant called Dog Heaven. It outlines what heaven is like for our canine friends. Of course, fields to run in and treats to eat and attention...it's all in abundance in dog heaven...

        Annie was a heavenly dog. She never had an accident in the house. She never chewed up anything. She never begged for table scraps. She was here on earth just to love and be loved...

         She was high maintainence, however. Chronic ear infections had forced her original family to give her up when Annie was 8. A couple of deep ear cleanings---after many ear infections and vet visits---resulted in expensive ear drops and a life of yeast-free food. No pizza crusts. No store-bought dog biscuits. Her treat every night at 8:00 was half of a raw carrot. (And she knew exactly when 8:00 struck, although she'd start pleading her case around 7; it just got quite frantic the closer it got to treat time.)

         Soft, silky puppy fur, even when she was a 14-year old senior. Ears that were mostly deaf due to years of ear infections. Eyes that were cloudy and mostly-blind from cataracts, but she could still see people across the street, and then she leaped into action. A loud, deep bark that made her sound like she was a much bigger dog---paired with her front legs rising off the ground repeatedly in her earnestness--caused the neighbor kids to recoil and call her "a monster." Little did they know that she was literally all bark and no bite. Once you came into the house, you would get a paw---she loved to shake---or a rear end bumping into you (so you could be prodded into scratching her butt) or she'd shove her head under your dangling hand, as if to say, 'Pet me!  And since you have two hands, you can pet me in two different places!'

         Annie only failed in two ways in the six years we had her. One, she refused to chase a ball. We could never entice her to "retrieve."  We had to adopt Foley to get a dog that was obsessed with playing ball.

         And her final failure...She didn't go on her own. She needed a nudge. But that was just like her---always wanting to be around her people...



            Annie...I know you're chasing rabbits and squirrels through a green, grassy field right now and tonight at 8, you'll get as many carrots as you can eat!

        


       

Friday, May 27, 2011

Helping Out Joplin


         This is a lousy photo of a tree in Ferguson, Missouri, damaged by the tornado that struck St. Louis on Good Friday (also Earth Day). No lives were lost...

           Donna Volkenannt, on her blog, posted a heartwarming story about how her family helped out the tornado victims in Joplin. It was a one-day collection; I asked if she would let us know if she found out about other opportunities for those who want to make donations.

            Are my fingers broken?  Am I the Queen of Sheba?  Is Donna my lackey? 

             I think not...

            I quickly found that some of the St. Louis malls are collecting donations (for kids) until early next week.  Here is the link.

            For those who find other places, please feel free to add it as a comment. 

Thursday, May 26, 2011

Annie's Last Legs

       
           This was Annie in 2005. She was eight then. Having spent her whole life with a family, they finally surrendered: Annie had chronic ear infections, and they could no longer afford to keep her.

            When Love a Golden Rescue brought her with them when they did the home visit, they were sure Annie would not be a good fit in our house. After all, we had two cats and Annie was living on a (foster) farm, and relished chasing the barn cats.

            But when one of our cats sidled out during the visit, they didn't run, so Annie had no reason to chase. And since she had earlier won our hearts by rolling on her back begging for a bellyrub when we saw her at Petco, we adopted her.

            Annie has never been the typical dog. If you throw a ball, she stares at you with an expression that says, 'I'm sure you want that ball there for a reason, since you were the one who threw it.'  She is not a typical Golden, as she barks (most don't) and doesn't like other dogs (most do).  When it's breakfast or dinner time, you have to say several time, "Eat, Annie...Go on, eat!" before she will delicately begin consuming her food.

            Now Annie is 14. She has lost interest in most food (in the past week) and now, all food. She won't get up and go outside, and yet she has no accidents, either. 

            On Saturday morning we have an appointment with our vet. We waited too long with our last dog, which meant her end was most likely painful. We don't want to make the same mistake with Annie...  

            

           

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Upping My Insurance

         Yesterday I heard on the radio about various famous people who had insured their talents/body parts for millions of dollars.

  • David Beckham---his legs (that makes sense--if his legs go kaput, he won't be very useful on the soccer field)
  • Tom Jones---his chest hair (Good grief!)
  • Bruce Springsteen--his voice (logical)
  • Mariah Carey--her legs (what?  I guess I will have to really assess her legs the next time I see her on television)
         After this news lightning bolt struck me, I contacted Lloyds of London, and I too am now protected with some extra insurance. After all, I want to be able to continue on---in the style I am accustomed to---if something horrible happens. Check it out...And let this be a warning to you, as you probably need to get scads of extra insurance to protect your lifestyle!

My roots--Yes, if something catastrophic happens to the roots in my hair---say, if they become the same color as the rest of my hair---I don't even warrant a mention. The public has gotten accustomed to part of my hair (the part) being the color of rat fur, and the rest being magenta or tomato-red or Corky-the-Clown orange. How else will they recognize me?


photo by milkmaid1979

My leg hair--Yes, if something caused the stubble on my legs to vanish, all color would be gone from my legs, and I'd be left with blindingly-white legs. People would have to wear sunglasses when I put on capris or---heaven help us, shorts---to save their vision. The sprinkling of gray hairs cuts down on the glare a bit. It's a public service...People have come to depend on it.

photo by ameros

My poochy belly-droopy chest combo---Because my protruding gut meets my succumbing-to-gravity chest, I have a clipboard made of flesh at my disposal.  I open up a teacher's guide book  and place it onto my belly, lower the shelf of a chest onto the book, and the book is held in place, allowing me to walk around and use both hands as I refer to the book.



         I know there are other valuable parts that need to be insured. But Lloyds of London spent so much time laughing (I think they were laughing because I was stupid enough to tempt fate this many decades without insurance) and then charged me so much, I will have to save up if I'm going to protect more of me...