She Asked for It...You Got It

       One of my writing peeps, Lynn Obermoeller, gave me an award.  Lynn is a gifted writer, a gentle critic, a wonderful friend. I initially started a list of seven of my fashion faux pas, as I am so not a fashionista (example: I am wondering how wise it would be to wear my Crocs today, and there's snow on the ground) but gave up after 5 or so...Then I read Tammy's post, and it got my thoughts meandering in a different direction...

1. When I was a kid, when I went to the circus, people could buy little alligators. Their legs were stapled to a piece of cardboard. Then, I was too young to be aghast; instead, I was fascinated. Now, I would be horrified to even go to the circus (unless they ever come up with one that features only humans).

2. I am adamant about seatbelts. No one rides in my car without buckling their seatbelt. When I still had my driver's permit, a 14-year old driver (driving for his grandmother) veered into my path and hit me head on. Thanks to my seat belt, I only broke my nose. (The ER doctor said it would heal without a splint, but since our family LTD was ruined, I wanted some proof of the accident. I also loved looking like the Lee Marvin character in Cat Ballou...at least for a day or two.)

3.  Sad movies and sad books are my favorite. I just finished Sarah's Key. Definitely sob-worthy. A Thousand Splendid Suns is one of my favorites, as is Too Late the Phalarope.  Both have brought tears to my eyes. Don't get me wrong: I love Augusten Burroughs' hilarious vignettes. The books about the Sweet Potato Qeens (the best is the book on men and love) ---I love. But if given a choice between Sophie's Choice and something gut-busting, I'll choose the former every time.

3. I spent a summer working in a gift shop in Yellowstone Park. I was 18.We were lured there by promises of "resort food" and the chance to enjoy beautiful scenery. If resort guests ate lots of oatmeal and white bread, I guess they were honest. We also worked split shifts, so we had little time to explore the area. However, since the legal age to drink was 18 there, I did a lot of exploration with various flavors of Schnapps...

4.  Over my Christmas break, dealing with a cold that would not leave, I watched 13 episodes of Sons of Anarchy--one right after the other. My husband (who had a motorcycle for a while) finds it quite amusing that although I refuse to ride on one, I'm obsessed with a show about a motorcycle gang. And yet I am...

5.  As a kid, I went through a "saint" phase. I voraciously read about them. I even dreamed I could become one. Not Catholic, so I'm not sure where the interest came from...Perhaps those pixie hair-cuts I sported in those days had something to do with my fascination with Joan of Arc?

6. (Almost there! Whew!) I have long feet. Size 11. You know what they say...Long feet, long boobs.

7.  I believe in many gods. The God of Snow Days. (They didn't come through today.) The God of Snooki. (Someday, that god will exert their power and we'll stop supporting Snooki...no more books, no more television shows, no more photos plastered in magazines.) The God of Fairness. (At some point in time, my final growth spurt will occur, and my 7'8" frame will be able to handle this weight gracefully...)

I am supposed to pass this award on (much like a chain letter) and have decided to highlight some blogs I follow that--in my opinion--lack the followers they deserve. They are:

•  Shay and her wonderful poems. They bloom in her Word Garden. Sometimes they're roll-on-the-floor funny, and sometimes they're bitingly serious. But what they always are is phenomenal...
• Ramblings of a Very Pale Man.  He writes about his family with humor. And he's working on a novel. (That makes me a bit envious...)
• Val's antics are spilled out on her blog---Unbagging the Cats. She can take a trip to the gas station and make it a journey of epic proportions--and make it hilarious.

Thanks, Lynn. And check out these blogs, if you aren't a follower already...

WWWP Critique Group Update

               Well, it's been a loooong time since I've shared any stories from the WWWP's den of hilarity. In fact, it's been so long, perhaps you've forgotten who the cast of characters are? (If you want to read a fairy tale with these same mischievious misfits, go here.)

           There's GaLinda. Don't let her grandmotherly charm fool you. Inside her chest beats the heart of a cougar--or at least a middle-aged cheetah. (She still is deadly with her talent, and despite the fact that she can run circles around the rest of us, she is always generous with the publishers she preys on and stalks.) If you want to read her writing for yourself, go to her site.

           Our next character is ELynn.  She's the one in the group who has a speech impediment. Unable to share her work without making excuses, she cannot pass out copies of her work without saying, "I know it's crrrrap, and I'm sorry." (It never is crap.) When the critque group meets at Elynn's home, she is the best host. Slippers for our worn-out feet...warm towels to refresh our tired skin...43 different kinds of tea...and (yikes) a bathroom that features 360 degrees worth of mirrors. (There's no place for the fat to hide in that bathroom!) You can check out her posts by going to her blog here.

          Next is Cammy. Not only is she thin (we don't like her) and gorgeous (we really don't like her) she is the gentlest of critques. (Actually, Cammy and ELynn are neck and neck in the competition. The prize, when the winner is determined? A jar of marshmallow cream and a jar of Nutella, because their "criticism" is always softened with a great dollop of praise, and their sweet natures always shine through.) Read her writing where she posts it regularly--here.

        Let's make sure and not forget ElsBeth. She's another one who is gorgeous. I've given up trying to fatten her up with high-calorie treats. Now I just take small sandwiches, handfuls of artichoke dip and pieces of birthday cake and--after applying some hot glue--throw them at her body. Sometimes she's too busy explosively laughing to pluck them off before they get a chance to adhere. Most of the time, however, she is reading and making notes on a story, is telling pee-in-your-pants rollicking stories, and is prying the food items off her 6'3" frame--all simultaneously. Just like the other characters, ElsBeth's input is priceless, and her ability to connect the personal with the universal is inspiring...Intrigued? Want to read more? Find her here.

        Finally, there's Rue. Last night she brought her version of a healthy snack--she brought a chocolate fountain, but set it on a slow speed. Unfortunately, once Rue jumped into the fountain, no one else was interested in partaking...

       Now that you have a playbill and are reminded of who the cast is, when I next tell a story about the WWWP group, you'll know who I'm talkin' 'bout...

Memoir, Anyone?

a painting of my granddaughter; the artist is her daddy,
Jason Reynolds

    


       A picture is worth a thousand words. And a well-written story paints a picture with words.

      Memoir (and) has a call out for submissions. If you are a writer who enjoys writing slice-of-life stories, get busy. You don't have much time. The deadline is February 16, 2012.

      To find out about the guidelines, go here.

Why Are There Samsonites Under My Eyes?

        The other night I babysat for my granddaughter. It was a late night; I did not get back home until 2:30.

         Now granted, I fell asleep on my daughter's couch after Riley was sound asleep. I drooled. I snored. I did my normal routine whenever I'm in a semi-reclining position.

        However, when I got home, I read until 4, and was tempted to read even later. What was the book that kept me up?  It was Sarah's Key by Tatiana de Rosnay.

         Imagine you are being taken away for the afternoon by the police because you are Jewish...Imagine you agree to keep your brother safe by locking him up in a cupboard...Imagine you don't get back later that day--and you are the only one who has a key to the secret hiding place...where your brother is.

        I had to read--unmoving except for my fingers turning the pages--until I got to the end. I recommend this book. It highlights a moment in history that is not well known, it's the story of an American in France, it's the story of a woman becoming liberated in various ways. 

           Below is a video interview of the author. When I read this novel, I thought of how fortunate we are--in this country, at this point in history.  Have a marvelous holiday--if you are celebrating now--and have a great end of 2011!

           

   

Fudge-a-Mania

       I just finished making four batches of fudge for neighborhood friends. They're not going to be packaged in beautiful holiday tins. The only thing that is festive about each plate is a brightly-colored bow on top of the plastic wrap. I'm a purist, and I know my friends. They will tear into the fudge so quickly, like a pack of wolverines into a moose, so what is most important is the chocolate.

     My mother used to make fudge, and it would take a while. The ingredients would have to come to a rolling boil, then to a soft-ball stage, or some similar nonsense. She had a candy thermometer, and I became an expert at making the delectable delicacy.

     Then I adopted a friend's recipe for fudge. It had to be on the stovetop for less time, which was a step in the right direction, but required a long list of ingredients. Some of the marshamallows had to be frozen (and some not), the fudge had to be stirred at one point until some of the "sheen" was gone...There were occasions when I would worry if the fudge was still glistening too much ('Do I need to stir some more?'), and other times when I would panic, since I had forgotten to put the marshmallows in the freezer and tried to "flash freeze" them.

     That fudge was extremely expensive to make, but delicious. Because of the cost involved, I only made it on special occasions.

      Unfortunately for my hips, but fortunately for my friends, I was given a fudge recipe by Holly, one of my team-mates. She knows how much chocolate third grade teachers need on an hourly basis * and for the past two years, it has been the recipe I've relied on, casting aside all others.

      Since I'd like to spread the madness, I'm sharing the recipe, in case you do not already have it.  Make a batch or two during this holiday season and share (or not).

1 bag of milk chocolate chips
1/2 bag (1 cup) of semi-sweet chocolate chips 
(Aldi's has the best price, and their chocolate is great)
1 can of condensed evaporated milk

Put the above ingredients in a glass microwavable bowl (I use a mixing bowl) and cook for 5 minutes at 50% power. Stop it halfway through (at 2.5 minutes) and stir. Then continue cooking.

When the 5 minutes are up, take out, put in a splash of vanilla, and nuts (if you want). I line a glass pie pan with plastic wrap, then I can lift it out easily and cut it up, or wrap up the "disc" of fudge and present it like that. One batch can be poured into a pie pan-sized container...it makes a relatively small amount.
                                                                    

* In our teachers' lounge we don't have a soda machine. Instead, we have a chocolate fountain that is plugged in constantly and restocked regularly. 

     

   

Another Friggin' Fairy Tale

            There once was a mythical, magical land, shrouded in spiritual s*#t. Viggo Mortensen (with his long, Lord-of-the-Rings hair) stalked around, searching for his perfect mate: a middle-aged woman (middle-aged, if she was going to live to be 106, that is) with overactive upperlip hair and a poochy belly. (His tastes must have changed since moving into this fantasyland, you say? I'm the blogger here. I should get some perks. After all, it is my fantasy!)

         On one hilltop was Lady Linda. She would have been working on another submission, but she was too busy zipping up Santa's pants. (Sorry. This is not a G-rated fairy tale.) Santa was  looking for a  saying, "Ho Ho Ho," causing Linda to be...preoccupied. If you want all the lurid details, check out her side of the story.

        Surrounded by swarms of supporters was Shay. She lived in a lovely valley, where life is fair and everyone is free to choose who they love. (Did you forget again? It's a fairy tale.)  Her 1,000th poem had just been posted, which meant 1,000 tired spirits had done all the work but Shay had gotten all the credit. Bosco was at her side, as usual, to keep up the pretense that swirled around Fireblossom's blog; in her lair is also Emily Dickinson, preserved in dry ice.   

Bosco, the Wonder Dog

     On another hilltop was Temptress T'Mara, singing her Siren's song. Who was she luring into the sharp-edges of her words--handsome young men, men who are Cougar-worthy? Alas, no, they were bandy-legged baldies, because she was culling the depths for stories since--after all--men with quirks and men with twitches are far more interesting than Viggo clones. (And if you need sustanence during your tour of this fantasyland, Tammy has some birthday cake, topped with cream cheese frosting, that she can offer to you to...oops, it was consumed by a coven of five bwitches. Sorry.)

      If you looked quickly, you could see Beth darting here and there, doing planks and push ups and her exercise instructor other exercises. She has time to write and work and raise kids and look fabulous. (She must be destroyed!) The walls of her writing den are covered with the snot she has snorted out in her frequent fits of laughter. (She must be silenced!)

       There was a pinnacle, where two quiet writers perch. One is Donna, who refuses to read her work aloud. Elusive, shy, and humble, you must purchase anthologies with her work in them--or win a copy of one of her stories--in order to enjoy the gifts of her writing. The other is Lynn, who--despite her immense talent--makes excuses about her pieces. Her stories are haunting, poignant, and her endings are brilliant. When she opens her mouth in self-denigration, shove some of Nora Ephron's spaghetti into the open maw. (That heavenly stuff will shut anyone up!)

      There is another pinnacle where a humorless writer writes. No sound is heard except the sssssh of the wind. Don't stop or tarry too long there. Anyone who lacks a sense of humor is not worthy of your time... 

     There are more places we will visit in 2011 as this fairy tale continues before the year ends...Come back so we can get to the "happily ever after" part.