Monthly Archives: June 2009


Life and novel are sucking the blogging creativity out of my marrow these days. So I am going to continue “liberating” ideas from my gentle readers and friends on an as needed basis until further notice.

Today I borrow once again from Alicia who kindly blogged this for the purpose of supplying me. Many thanks, dear. It’s meant to be a meme, but I am using it as a “starter” like the prompts I would write for my students when the whiteness of page blinded their inner muses into mute, deer in the headlight silence.

A – Age: I am 45 and a half, but sometimes I feel much older – like when my knees ache on damp, rainy days or after a long mountainous hike. And sometimes I feel much younger. Like when I am listening to my step-daughters talk about the new Star Trek movie or their plans for the summer and beyond. It doesn’t seem possible to me to have “children” who are so grown. My niece Chance is getting married in the fall. She’ll be 24 soon. That is an old and young thing so rolled up I can’t even begin to separate it. She was four when I met her. I gave her crayons and paper and she drew while her mom and I worked on lessons plans for an organization unit we were creating for the sixth graders. Soon she is going to be married and even more my peer than my daughters. Astonishing.

B – Band listening to right now: The iPod is currently playing A to Zed. I think I am in the D’s. Very random and probably why my knees hurt so much. I am walking lost in the memories of music.


C – Career future: Alicia mentioned that the concept of career was a concept indeed and I concur. I have never really thought of what I do as a career because work has never consumed or defined me. Teaching was for a long time something I really liked to do. It was fun. Blogging, even during the dry spells, is fun. Writing fiction is challenging but still technically fun under the heading of “better than work at Starbucks”.

My goal is to write fiction and supplement by teaching, creative writing hopefully, though I toy with the idea of being a yogina. My current instructor is keen to expand and take on other instructors. If we end up staying here in The Fort until Rob retires, that would be okay too.


D – Dad’s name: It was Donald. In his immediate family I don’t think I ever heard anyone refer to him as “Don” or “Donnie”. Mom called him “Don” as did most of his friends.


E – Easiest person to talk to:  Rob is the easiest person to talk to about anything. I can carry on conversations with most anyone, but the depth level will vary with my trust in a person, and I can seem to be very open even when I am not at all.


F – Favorite song:  I don’t have a favorite above all others. Every song I have ever heard is connected to single moments or whole eras of my life in such a way as to give them meaning. I can hear a song and remember who I was pining for or what movie I’d just seen and with whom or where in the world I was at that moment. I don’t think songs are like flavors of ice cream or running shoes. The variety should be infinite and they should evoke feeling that puts you back in the moment. Music is a true time machine.


G – Gummy Bears or Gummy Worms:  Gummy anything disgusts me. And I hate picking it off my teeth. Most unpleasant.


H – Hometown:  Dubuque and Des Moines are my hometowns because I grew-up in both places. Dubuque is where I literally grew up and Des Moines is where I actually became an adult.


I – Instruments:  I studied piano for four or five years as a child. I played the baritone and the bass clarinet in high school. I occasionally fight off the urge to buy a guitar because I long to learn to really play an instrument well enough to simply sit and pick out tunes I know and sing along. It’s easy to resist the impluse buy because I play string instruments left-handed despite being a rightie. I took violin lessons for a short time when I was in 4th grade. I was a natural but it conflicted with recess and playing ball, so it was short-lived. But I instinctively use my right hand for chords/note and strum/bow with the left. A leftie like Paul McCartney. Can’t explain that. Anyway, you don’t run across many guitars that are strung for lefties. You have to ask special.


J – Job: Have had plenty of them but never found the early ones to be anything other than legalized slavery. I don’t understand at all why people don’t rise up in revolt on a daily basis given the mindlessness of what they do. Teaching as I did I contributed to the sheople herd and it bothers me.


K – Kids:  I have some of those. The older girls were out on Father’s Day. Grown children are amazing. They carry on conversations. It’s different with Dee who still talks at me or asks me questions. 


L – Longest car ride ever:  The drive to Dubuque when Dad was dying. We went straight through and as we meandered up and down the rollercoaster that passes for a highway between Sioux City and Ames, I began to wonder if we weren’t caught in some Twilight Zone time loop because we never seemed to get closer to where we were going. It was a Friday night. High school football in every little place we stopped.


M – Mom’s name:  Ruth is her name. Like the book of Ruth. When I was little, I had a coloring book that told stories from the Old Testament. One was the tale of how Boaz had negotiated for the widow, Ruth, with her in-laws. He gave them one of his sandals. I think it was a show of good faith, but my parent’s friends thought it was hysterical that Ruth could be bought for the price of a shoe. They took to calling Dad “Boaz” after that. They were wrong. Ruth was not bought. She was a widow and therefore got to decide whether or not she would marry again. Her mother-in-law was the one who urged her to consider Boaz and remarriage because she was young and had a long life ahead and didn’t owe that to her husband’s memory or his mother.


N – Number of people you slept with: Ever? Why would anyone ask – or even more foolishly, answer – such a question. On a nightly basis, I sleep with Rob. I think that’s enough information.


P – Phobia[s]:  I am generally speaking a fearful person, but can’t think of anything that freaks me out to the point of simply not being able to do it. I could do anything if I had to. I really dislike the dentist but that’s because most hygenists are ham-handed.


Q – Quote:
“Delusions of grandeur make me feel a lot better about myself.”

Jane Wagner said this. She is best known as a collaborator of Lily Tomlin’s but I discovered she also wrote the CBS School Special, J.T. which is just about one of my favorite childhood tv memories. It’s about a boy in Harlem who finds a sickly cat and makes a home for it despite his family being too poor to afford a pet. I was about seven maybe when I first saw it.


R – Reason to smile: I am loved.


S – Song you sang last:
On my walk yesterday I skipped “E” and most of “G” but I sang along with Kenny Rogers’ Gambler and The Gourds “Gin and Juice” remake of the Snoop Dog song. Of course I sing Carpenters, even when it is sad beyond what should be allowed and Abba is a give regardless.


T – Time you wake up:  Between 6 and 7:15 depending. Now that the blinds are up and school is nearly out, I am hoping for 8AM. I really need to catch up on some sleep. Any sleep.


U – Unknown fact about me: Because there are plenty of those left now.


V – Vegetable you hate: I am not keen on artichokes.


W – Worst habit: I forget to turn lights off. I got into the habit of leaving lights on all the time shortly after Will died which was odd because it had been just Dee and I on our own for well over a year and I hadn’t any fears about the dark at all. I think it accelerated though after the Creepy Guy next door found out Will had died and began watching me all the time. Then there were the escaped fugitives that hide in the green spaces around where we lived that fall, triggering a manhunt complete with closed streets and SWAT teams moving neighborhood to neighborhood.

Now it is just a bad habit that drives Rob to distraction and I am working on it with varying degrees of success. I am getting better but mostly because Dee, who copies everything Rob does and says, has taken to reminding me as well.


X – X-rays you’ve had:
What an odd thing to want to know about a person. My wrist – which was broken. My ankle – which was not although I ripped all the ligaments. Chest x-rays for pneumonia. Upper and lower GI’s. My urinary tract (because they thought at one point I had only one kidney and a deformed uterus which turned out not to be the case at all). I have also had ultrasounds for gallbladder issues and pregnancy. I think, all in all, that my internal self has been well-charted.


Y – Yummy food: There is much yummy food to be had in the universe but most of it is off-limits. I find conversations about food and events where food is the focus or omnipresent to be profoundly distressing/depressing.


Z – Zodiac sign:
I am a Sagittarian with Sagittarius rising born in the year of the Water Rabbit. I think my moon is in Taurus or Virgo. In the end this makes me a contradiction and not everyone’s cup of joe.


My youngest siblings cannot be counted on for anything except their knack for injecting melodrama into my mother’s life whenever her attention is focused on something happy and it includes me. For some reason, my having Mom’s almost undivided attention forces one or the other of them to a full code blue.

Last June, as some of you may remember, it was my younger brother CB’s emotional implosion and suicide attempt coinciding with Rob, Dee and I coming back to Iowa for a visit and family reunion. This year, Mom is preparing to come for a visit here with my Auntie and the culprit is Sis (aka BabySis).

Mom and Dad uncharacteristically got a hold of their spines simultaneously last spring and ejected both Sis and her son, Nephew1. Nephew went to live with his father and paternal grandmother in a river town to the south of Dubuque where, not surprisingly, the boy is thriving. Sis moved up to Wisconsin to move in with her boyfriend of more years than I care to remember, LawnMower Man.

I have written a bit about LawnMower Man before and if you care for backstory, you can find it here and here. But the short version is that when he was 21 and she was 16, he knocked her up and then ran off. The baby was put up for adoption thus mercifully escaping knowing either of them and is hopefully a better person today for that one act of selflessness on Sis’s part. Sixteen years later, he showed up again. Divorced and a full-blown alcoholic, he professed his deep and forever feelings for her and she swallowed the whole revolting package – literally – but I try not to go there.

It was the perfect set-up for him. She lived with my folks and visited for booty during the week and stayed on the weekends. She neglected her son for him. She gave him half her paycheck – because she was eating and using utilities while she was with him – and she picked up the check whenever they went out. A sweet deal.

Lawnmower Man never came to the house. My dad’s hatred would have melted him to a puddle such was the heat it gave off. Lawnmower Man stayed away even after Dad was semi-disabled that’s how afraid he was. He is not afraid of Mom. Ever since Dad died, he has been after Mom to let Sis move back in. He calls the house and harasses her. 

Sis came home tonight. Bruised and professing in her childishly prattling way,

“You don’t just stop loving a man after seven years.”

Even if he is belting you upside the head and had left welts on your legs that the old southern plantation masters would have been proud to call their own.

DNOS is dealing, but this is not her territory. She took wonderful care of Dad and has dealt with Mom beautifully, but the crazy younger siblings have always been my cross to bear. I can’t do much from this distance and told her so.

“Sis cannot be allowed to stay at Mom’s while she is visiting up here,” I said. “Mom will never get rid of her and you know within a week she’ll be sleeping with that turd again and he will be coming around the house.”

I went on to point out that he is a drunk and wouldn’t think twice about abusing our mother right along with Sis.

There is a shelter in town. Sis could go there tonight, but no one will make her. DNOS’s brother-in-law is the police chief across the river in Illinois and urged DNOS to have Sis file charges. Instead, DNOS called our cousin and his wife and went up to LawnMower Man’s to retrieve whatever might be left of Sis’s stuff. I will get the lowdown on that before the night is over. DNOS was shaky and in tears when she called me. I don’t blame her. Mom fell apart. She’s had a rough last few weeks with the six month anniversary of Dad’s death, her birthday and then Father’s Day.

“I talked to your Dad tonight and told him I just can’t do this,” she told me on the phone.

If I were a 5 hour car trip as opposed to plane ride away, I would simply pull Dee out of school a few days early and go down and take care of things and bring Mom back with me. And trust me, things would be settled before I left. I am a force to be reckoned with. LawnMower Man would have no doubt which daughter was the chip of the Simmering Block. But I am here. I can offer advice – which no one will listen to let alone take.

“This is why I am estranged from my siblings,” Rob said.

And he wasn’t being unsympathetic. Just pointing out a fact that at some point the siblings have to be neutralized and left to fend for themselves. His own mother is now far enough away and finally able to turn down cries for assistance that his sisters and brother are no longer an issue for him. Ultimately this is for my mother to deal with, but she and I need to have a talk, I think.


fantasy day badgeThis is not an official Hallmark thing, but today is the first, and hopefully annual, day to celebrate those of us who toil in the sci-fi/fantasy and subgenres of the writing world. I will celebrate with a short excerpt of my novel in progress which is now going under the working title of Sundogged.

 

*Chapter 1

We killed the first one with the Chevy Avalanche, sunburst orange metallic. Remy drove. I was shotgun. The radio tanned our eardrums with a blast of 80’s metal rock to such a degree that if it hadn’t broad-sided the truck bed with force enough to rock the vehicle, we’d have never known we’d made first contact.

Remy fought the wheel as the truck veered wide, hauling us back over the centerline before slowing to a complete stop on the sloping shoulder. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel as the other hand reached over and turned the music down. It was CCR now, Bad Moon on the Rise.

“What the hell was that?”

I opened my door, leaned out as far as I could without tumbling to the gravel below and peered back down the dark road. I couldn’t make out anything with clarity. In late June, between moonlight and perpetual sunglow on the horizon, the lack of streetlights on the old range road wasn’t a problem. But a storm threatened from the northeast and even the intermittent cracks of lightning couldn’t slice the darkness.

“See anything?”

“No, back up a bit,” I told him. I hung out a bit farther, one hand gripping the headrest and the other firmly planted on the door.

Remy put it in reverse and inched backwards, but that section of the road was thickly lined with tentacled trees and swollen bushes that swallowed the headlights like a leafy black-hole.

“Anything?”

He was worried we’d hit a dog. Remy was always in a twist about the dogs and cats that roamed this stretch of road. Strays that people from the city dumped near our little hamlet. The coyotes took in the dogs they didn’t kill, and the foxes were partial to cat, but neither could thin the herd.

“It might’ve got up and run off if it was just stunned,” I said.

And then we ran it over.

The squish was one of the juiciest I can remember hearing. Normally there is a fair amount of crunch and a bit of skidding, but this was all entrails and soft, spongy flesh.

 

*This is an original piece of fiction. All rights are reserved by the author – ME.