22 Twenty-Nineth Beginning (Nanowrimo 2007) Organizing Aunt Sheila

[See previous disclaimer - and we're starting to get toward the end of the document.  If it was a typical Nanowrimo November, things will be getting more disjointed soon.]

how about - Tutor Notes K

Intercultural Communications

Theme comments:  1) there was no mention made of the switch from independent kingdom to State, was this not discussed?  and 2) don’t pad by saying things that are true, but too general to contribute information.  Don’t be afraid to repeat things in the conclusion.
Word choices:  1) beware using the word ‘unique’ unless something provably is, 2) the word drastic has negative connotations, and 3) words like ‘aspect’ and ‘first key’ are best used when discussing several explicitly listed things, not when used as stand-alone comments or when subsequent sentences do not also say ‘aspect’ and ‘key’.

Grammar:  Recheck your longer sentences.  You sometimes try to say a lot in one sentence and the grammar can tangle when the subject isn’t kept clear. Try saying the same thing in short sentences and then recombining them. 

That was helping someone with their homework.  They were going to Delta college and getting someone to review the paper was part of the project.  There should be one in there for her boyfriend, too.

That would be this.

Tutor’s Notes
E B, Comp Studies

Edit your writing with four things in mind.  1)  Remove idiomatic padding, use active language (‘along with him’ to ‘also present’, ‘With Mr. Toriyama he’ to ‘Mr. Toriyama’)  2)  Keep sentence structure parallel.  When comparing two things, keep the grammatical structure the same for each.  This improves flow.  3) Check to see that your use of commas matches your instructor’s standards (you have a tendency to use very few commas).  4) Check to be sure that your antecedents are well defined.  Any sentence starting with the word ‘This’ must be preceded by a sentence that leaves no doubt what ‘this’ is.  If this is not the case, begin by recapitulating:  ‘This combination of traits. . .’

It sounds like you know what you’re doing, there.

I can at least sound that way.

I’m impressed.

I used to do technical editing.  You’d be surprised how much you can improve even good writing, if you know writing and the writer mostly knows his subject.

here’s one that might be notes against procrastination.

Do:

Pigeonholing – categorize stopper

Salami – detailed list of small tasks
Leading task – Swiss cheese – any task
5 minutes
Worst First

Balance Sheet – reasons for putting off vs benefits
Journal – clarify goals – analyze motives – plan corrective action – reinforce good behavior – get to know and like yourself
Self-Dialog – imperative and/or anticipative
Tape Talk – reminders – mistakes
Going Public
The Monitor
Prayer

Against Fears:

Dissect Fears
Turenne Method – can also be used for boredom, depression, shyness, fatigue, unwillingness to tolerate discomfort
Build for Eternity
Image successful completion
Imagine the Worst
Fear of Success requires a full hashout

Keep a willpower list – things to do for practice rather than for deadline.

Make LONG term goal list

Devise rituals – “doing beats stewing”

Avoid:

Floundering – multiple directions – nowhere
Wheelspinning – doing Work B because of quilt for being behind on Work A
Firefighting – chronic crisis – schedule time around opportunities rather than problems – Set Yourself Up
Vacillation – indecision.  Red Squirrel says: “Though right of wrong you’re bound to find – Relief in making up your mind.
Dawdling – Fiddling – tempo – now is the time to dump morning fish reports – try Wednesday check-ins.
Spraying – diversification of effort – Fan – “It’s difficult to be decisive when confused.”
Switch – changing before complete – develop a compulsion for closure – no butterfly – the butterfly’s wing brings chaos
Acquiescing – learn to say no – learn to say I want it this way.
Rehashing – no dwelling on the past
Perfecting – do well enough to get it over

That’s from one of the books – I wonder if that would be a good place to start working? 

21 Twenty-Nineth Beginning (Nanowrimo 2007) Organizing Aunt Sheila

[Welcome to the middle (ohmygod will it never end?) of a long conversation between an Aunt and the Niece she has never met, who has been sent by the family to "help orgainize." Do not read any part of this as if it were a completed story or you will be disappointed. In 2007, my strategy for Nanowrimo was to call my efforts 'literary' and use that as an excuse to dump ideas and references that had been collecting in my mind and desk and files for years. I skipped linear progression.]

[I also skipped quotation marks and dialog tags. They may or may not go back. I kind of like the ambiguity.]

[Barbara has collected stacks of notes and is reading from them as she and her Aunt Sheila sit on a log in a meadow an undetermined distance away from nearby houses. The point of their exercise is to enter things into a database and throw the pieces of paper away.]

Here’s another one that sounds like a family thing. 

On Thursday, July 7, 2005 at 2 o'clock, a memorial service was held for GSB, known to his friends and family as G, in the town of K, near K2, Idaho.  The casket was made locally of cedar wood and was the only casket available that wasn't polished to a scary shine. There was an insert inside the lid of the casket with an embroidered elk, but you couldn't see that during the service because the lid was down.  Mom had decided that she'd have trouble looking at him for the full hour of the service and I think it was a good call on her part.

The casket was topped with grape vines and roses from Mom and Gerry's yard.  There was a shiny, wavy picture of Jesus on his knees in the garden of Gethsemane with a sunbeam illuminating his face in the night, in a thick gold plastic frame on the wall over the casket.  There were two waist-high pillar stands on either side of the casket.  One held a vase of silk flowers, a prop that the funeral home kept on hand.  The other held yellow lilies, the trumpet kind, like easter or tiger lilies. Those had been sent in remembrance.  There was also an arrangement of daisy-shaped chrysanthemums and white roses on the floor in front of the casket.

There was piped music before the service started, but during the service the songs Amazing Grace and The Old Rugged Cross were accompanied by piano.  The pianist was the same woman who had played at their wedding.  I think her name was Dot.  I'll ask Mom. 

There were a couple dozen people who came to pay their respects.  There were people from their church and people from Mom's quilting group and people that Gerry hunted or fished or shot pistols with.  A few people couldn't make it because of their own ill health or that of a family member.

Bob the preacher did the service.  I've heard Mom talking about the Senior Center a lot, but I hadn't realized that she and Gerry had quit their church and started following Bob, who had started up a congregation that met at the Center.  The funeral director was also named Bob and I'll say more about him later.

Pastor Bob said some very nice things about Gerry.  He was obviously someone who had known him well.  He also said things about how devoted Mom and Gerry were to each other.  And then there was about half an hour about how it didn't matter how nice you were, you could only get into heaven by accepting Jesus.  The image that sticks most in my mind was one about riding a roller coaster and how none of us could measure up to the line on the sign that said you had to be this tall to ride.  I'm sure he had no idea that I kept seeing kids coming up to the sign and standing on top of Jesus, who had gotten down on his hands an knees to boost them all up.  It was during that section of the service that I got to looking at the picture on the wall enough to notice the waves in it.

At the end of the service, Pastor Bob read a note that S had emailed to us the day before, for the service.  It was touching and warm and caused more than a few sniffs and eye-dabs.  If you've had a chance to read it, you'll know what I mean when I say that Mom showed me pictures of the World's Largest Beagle later that night.

Other people were then invited to share stories about G.  One of his hunting buddies shared a few hunting stories.  It was funny to learn that G's voice had been low enough to cause bull moose to call in answer to him.  One had challenged him directly enough that they had been afraid it was going to charge.  You only get a moose stamp for your hunting license by lottery, you see, and none of them had one that year.  So if they shot it to protect themselves, there would have been a lot of explaining at the least, and maybe a stiff fine.  But in the end it had decided that an attack was unnecessary.

G had encouraged one man to 'follow a calling' and start preaching.  He had done carpentry work on almost every church in that section of the valley.  He was almost the only active elder in the little congregation at the Senior Center, where he and Mom went to church.  They also delivered lunches and dinners for the shut-ins that the Center served.

After the service, which was held on the second floor of the funeral home, we drove to the cemetery, which was located on a road labeled Dead End.  G was a World War II veteran, so there was an honor guard waiting at the cemetery.  The two flag holders were middle aged.  One was a woman from Mom's quilting club.  Mom hadn't expected to see her there, but she thought it was nice. The rest of the guard ranged from upper middle age to barely able to walk.  There were a couple of men with no guns and a couple with guns that were not part of the salute.  There were only six men with guns in the salute guard and the little shaky guy on the far end only got one shot off, if that.  Mom said she was pretty sure he fired the first time and I'm not going to argue.

There was also a spokesman and a chaplain and the service at the graveside was very respectful and patriotic.  The spokesman had a cane.  He presented the folded flag to Mom.  After the service, he collected three spent shells from the salute to be kept folded in the flag.  He said that he had been surprised to see her - that he knew her and G, but hadn't known their last name, so that he had come out not knowing that he was coming to the funeral of someone he knew.  I think that was true for one or two other people in the guard, too.

At four, we went to the Senior Center for a pot luck dinner.  We had gone there earlier in the day to make a delivery.  The night before we had gotten some of G's things together to make a display table at the dinner.  There was a big picture of him in a white-water raft and a good-sized picture of him holding a 32 inch salmon.  There was a picute album and his bow and arrows and a big frame holding dozens of pistol sharpshooting medals.  There were two shooting jackets with lots of patches and two bibles that he used a lot.  There was a little framed verse that had hung in his parent's home and a little brown beer stein that had been his father's.  It was ceramic and had a whistle molded into the top of the handle.  "Whistle for more beer" was written on it in white.  We took pictures of the table, so you can check out everything I've forgotten to mention.

I said I was going to talk about Bob the Funeral Director, and I guess it goes here as well as anywhere.  He had a quiet, understanding demenor.  He had a list of things that needed to be done and decided.  It was kind of like working with a wedding planner.  G had taken out an insurance policy, with the paperwork at the Funeral Home, to cover the expenses.  I don't think it covered everything, but it covered a big chunk of it.  Bob handled cashing it in.  He also arranged the military funeral and he'll arrange the military plaque, if Mom decides to use it.  I liked the fact that he seemed most concerned that things be set up the way the family was most comfortable with and had no problem with pointing out which items were least expensive, because he knew that both G and Mom weren't interested in spending money on stuff to be buried, just as a general principle.

I'll figure out a way to wrap up this later.  It's late.  We're all going to miss G.  He was a nice guy.

_____

That was for the same woman.  No cookies for that one.  She was in Idaho for awhile after that, staying with her Mom.

ah.

20 Twenty-Nineth Beginning (Nanowrimo 2007) Organizing Aunt Sheila

[Welcome to the middle of a long conversation between and Aunt and the Niece she has never met and who has been sent by the family to "help orgainize." Do not read any part of this as if it were a completed story or you will be disappointed. In 2007, my strategy for Nanowrimo was to call my efforts 'literary' use that as an excuse to dump ideas and references that had been collecting in my mind and desk and files for years. I skipped linear progression.]

[I also skipped quotation marks and dialog tags. They may or may not go back. I kind of like the ambiguity.]

[Barbara has collected stacks of notes and is reading from them as she and her Aunt Sheila sit on a log in a meadow an undetermined distance away from nearby houses. The point of their exercise is to enter things into a database and throw the pieces of paper away.]

This looks like a family newsletter.  Will I meet these people?

Thanksgiving 2006

Left Stockton about 7 on Saturday – finished a write-in from 3 to 6 before we left.  Took X home, then drove for about and hour before we stopped for dinner.  Mom drove after that.  I typed into the laptop.  We stopped once at a rest stop and pretty much drove until after midnight.  We got as far as Magic Mountain and stayed in a Best Western.

The next morning we went the rest of the way to Aunt E and Uncle H’s.  We got there about noon.  We had good soup and braised short ribs and got taken out to Chinese for lunch the next day.  We got to see the pictures from E and H’s trip to Australia.  Uncle H’s knees are getting better, but it’s slow going.

Mom and I shared a room with roll under each other twin beds.  It’s been awhile since either of us had to stay balanced on a twin.  I sure missed my queen.  Mom says she was more used to staying on her own side and didn’t have as much trouble.

On Sunday night, St and K came by with B and T.  We caught up with them and with how D is doing.  B and T stayed, but St and K went on to Nevada.  J came and we caught up with her.  She’s still working for the courts and she has a boyfriend living in Palm Springs.

I did more typing.  3 called to say that the local newspaper columnist was trying to get ahold of me for an interview for Nanowrimo.  So I called him.  We coordinated with S2 for Disneyland on Tuesday.

Tuesday Aunt E brought out the videos of doggy dancing.  They were cute.  Well, Halo was cute.  We couldn’t find Heaven on the tape before we had to leave.  We also got to see the hat that she made out of couch springs for a church comedy fashion show.  It went with the ‘spring jacket’ she made, with all kinds of springs attached.  She went to Goodwill to get a jacket, because she didn’t want to ruin one of her own.  Then she decided that she liked the new one and took the springs off of it ASAP and kept it.

Aunt E is teaching more dog training classes and she’s showing both Halo and Heaven in agility trials as well as doing dog dancing routines with both of them.  The training classes are through Lomita Park, which has recently starting handling all of the paperwork and money. The dog dances are filmed on video and sent in for judging. 

Uncle H took us all out to lunch while Aunt E was teaching her class and afterwards he took us for a ride around the area to let us see what had changed.  Quite a bit had.  I remember when the Palo Del Amo shopping center grew out over the street to connect to the Palo Del Amo Woods.  Now there’s also a parking structure that spans the same street.  We didn’t go inside, only drove through.

On Tuesday we headed to Disneyland to meet S1 et al.  C, her son, M1 and her two grandchildren were already there when we finally got through the gate at eleven with M2 and S1 and their girls.  But they hadn’t been there long and there were characters posing for pictures and giving autographs in the square.  We called M’s cell phone and while it was ringing, Mom spotted him. 

C knew to go get fast passes for the rides with long lines: Space Mountain first, then Indiana Jones.  You can only get the fast passes every hour or so, you can’t just book from ride to ride collecting them.  Let’s see if I can remember where we went.

N and M3 went on the Casey Jr. Train together and then on the Dumbo ride with M1.  S2 and C and the rest of the kids went on the Mad Teacups.  Mom and I hit the carousel while the others went on another ride.

We went on Thunder Mountain, Pirates of the Caribbean, The Nightmare Before Christmas (formerly the Haunted Mansion – I kind of miss the spooky), the Tiki Room, Indiana Jones, Star Tours, and Space Mountain.  The kids went on Space Mountain multiple times. 

It’s a Small World had changed for the holidays.  Not only was it decorated outside, there was a substitution to the clock outside.  In place of the normal parade of figures at the hour, there was a light show against the whole façade to the tune of part of the Nutcracker Suite.  And the inside had been totally Christmassed up.  Even the singing had been changed.  Instead of the mesmerizing theme tune playing continuously, it played interspersed with Christmas Carols.  The carol was Jingle Bells most of the way through, but there were a couple of others near the end.

We were in the Jungle Cruise when the fireworks went off.  It was interesting to be doing that ride in the dark with mysterious booms going off in the distance.  We were in the last boat of the night and got out just in time to see the finale for the fireworks.  I’ve never seen a single set of shots go on for so long. 

C staked out a parade location for us.  When most of us came to join her, the girls wanted to get some food.  They were given some money and sent to hurry.  They came back with three chicken dinners that they shared with everyone, so that we all benefited.  We really appreciated it. 

R was worried that Mom and I would be tired out and C was warned to make sure that we left when we had to, but we closed down the park.  We followed C home, which was easier to do after one in the morning, because there were fewer cars on the freeway to get in our way.  We could have done without the fog, though.

R’s house is huge and C keeps it looking really nice.  J (now K2) and her husband, J, are here and S1, and her husband and girls are going to come in later today.  S2, M2, and their crew will be staying at Disneyland one more day.  They’ve been to R’s, but stayed overnight at the Disney Hotel last night.  It should be interesting.

N is playing football and being scouted by different colleges.  While we were there he got letters from coaches from Washington State, Oregon State, Arizona State, Wake Forest, Boston College, Colorado University, Boise State, and Wheaton College.  He plays defensive tackle.  He’s going to have a big game on Friday.  We’ve decided to stay for it.  S2 and M2 had to leave too soon to stay for it.  The rest of us will be there.  It’s a playoff game.  If they win, they have one more game and if not, it’s the end of the season.  For some of the seniors, it may be the last football game they ever play.  Randy is the president of the booster club.

There’s a Yorkshire Terrier named Daisy visiting.  She came with K2.  R has a  bulldog named Sophia and a white West Highland Terrier named Macy.  The bulldog is short and wide.

There are commercial flower growers in the area, so R brought a load of flowers for the house.  He picked up some nice fall colors, mostly mums and gladiolas, but including some decorative pine and what looks like stalks with miniature pumpkins hanging from them.  He also took advantage of the fact that the fishermen sell their catches to buy five kilos of fresh shrimp.  That’s fresh as in caught yesterday.  K2 got to make the flower arrangements and got to peel and devein a third of the shrimp.  C and I set up an assembly line for the rest of them.  I peeled and she deveined. 

S1 and husband called on their way from the airport and got our order for In and Out burgers for everyone.  That was a treat.  Later he and R made grilled sandwiches for everyone for dinner.  They were good cheese and meat sandwiches, either ham or roast beef.  R prewarmed the meat before grilling to ensure that the meat would be hot without risking burning the bread.

S2 and husband and girls stayed at a hotel.  S2 and M2 and their girls came in late from their second day at Disneyland.   S2 had thought that the kids would be up early and ready to go, but they were tired and wanted to sleep in.  Mom and I were in bed before they came in.

Mom’s new cell phone number is redacted.  I called E2 to check up on things.  His girlfriend is evidently having dental problems.  They had to deal with it as an emergency and she’s now taking vicodin and antibiotics. 

K2 made oatmeal for everyone for breakfast.  She said it was R’s orders.  R and N went to the gym to work out. 

Mom and I are catching up with S2.  She’s teaching a class in basic nutrition at a Junior College as part of their nursing program.  She’s developed a flow chart for teaching digestion and she’s going to send me a copy.  You can tell that she’s really interested in finding ways to get the information across.  She was talking about the ways that she slanted the material towards nursing to raise student interest in the class.

Oh, R just showed me a Notre Dame fan site that has a recruitment section.  N’s thread can be found there.  They have pictures and a bunch of site members discussing his stats and moves.  There are pictures, if you’re interested.

Well, we’re back from the game and R still has a little voice left.  He says this is the happiest he’s ever been in his life.  The newspapers weren’t expecting N's team to win, but the Titans put it away.  We all went, dressed in Titan shirts and hats.  S2 called from Arizona to see how it was going (they had started driving home earlier). 

The Titans had it all their way the first half, ending the half at 21 to 0.  Then the Falcons came back stoked and with 2:20 left in the game, they had it tied up at 21 to 21.  That Titans rallied, though, and after much give and take, the game ended at 27 to 21.  In the first quarter N blocked a kick that left the team set up to drive for a touchdown.

After the game N and one of the other big defense guys were interviewed by a local sports show.  S2 and spouce stayed to see it broadcast, before going back to their hotel, but it wasn’t shown.  They’ll leave tomorrow for the airport without coming back.  N went out with the guys to celebrate.  I’ll bring back a copy of the program from the game.

We’ve made a dent in the leftovers.  The ham and the pumpkin pie have been finished off.  So has the dark meat.  There’s still plenty of green bean casserole, white meat, and stuffing.  There’s probably some jello salad left, too.  The big one, anyway.  There were two or three of them, and only the big one is left. 

R’s house is 'da bomb' and Christine has obviously put thought into decorating.  Didn’t get a chance to use the hot tub, though.  Didn’t think of bringing a bathing suit. Next time I’ll know.  The last night there, Macy slept with me.  She’s a quiet sleeper, staying right at the foot of the bed and not moving until morning. 

Traveled back to Harbor City Saturday morning and caught Aunt E and Uncle H up with the rest of the relatives’ news.  Ate more Thanksgiving leftovers in a different location.  Heard about how their Thanksgiving went.  Did a little writing.  Took a walk before bed with Mom and Aunt E and Heaven.  Blood numbers were good even though there had been pie for lunch.  (S2 had recommended walking or other exercise before bed to get Mom’s morning numbers down.) Left to head back to Stockton on Sunday morning, about nine. 

Construction here and there on the 405.  It’s the route that I took to work, back when I worked at GMAD Van Nuys.  Man, I don’t remember the air in the valley being this brown.  Although when I was little they had that commercial with the grandfather telling the grandchildren “once upon a time there was air that you couldn’t see.”

The first set of mountains didn’t contain it all.  The second set didn’t either.  Ether that or Bakersfield had it’s own smog base.  Maybe it’s not so much brown as grey.  Maybe they’ve got a low overcast going.  Looks brown to me, though. 

Mom is happy because there was no line in the rest area.  K had passed the word that they’d had lines when they were traveling over the holidays.  Mom’s got a cough going and coughing and lines at the rest area don’t go together well.  Traffic on 5 around Bakersfield wasn’t too bad, either. 

We called E2 around Bakersfield and let him know we were on the way.  Turns out that he was sick Friday night and Saturday morning.  His girlfriend had to go to Saturday night’s Golden Rivers Medieval Feast without him.  She hasn’t had her tooth fixed, yet, although they have stabilized her drugs, so that she has some relief and not too many side effects.

By the time we got to Avenal, the air was looking more grey than brown.  Could have happened before then, I wasn’t really watching for it.  It also could be that there’s just more overcast, there, so that the grey masks the brown.  A little way after than we ran into actual rain, which will clean the air if nothing else.

Came home and found that D and S3 were ready to come visit with us.  We’d been trying to hook up with them, so it was nice that they did the work for us.  We went out to Marie Callendar’s with E2 and his girlfriend.  She will be beginning her root canal on Wednesday.  They’re at school now.  Mom is washing dishes.  I’m writing on the novel.  The newspaper column featured Nanowrimo (and me) on the 24^th, so I have to finish it this year.  That's 50.000 words.

Wish me luck with that.  All in all, it’s been a great holiday.  Mom will probably head back to Idaho some time this week.  When she leaves will depend on the weather up north. 

----

No, you won't be meeting these people.  I wrote that up from someone else’s notes.  She posted it online.  Someone else did the emailing for me.  It was a hit.  I got cookies for it.  I’ll get more next Thanksgiving.

Here’s another one that sounds like a family thing. 

[ok, that was a bit dire.  I'm going to post all of this, just on principle.  But I'll try to post regular chunks, so that we can get through it quickly.]

19 Twenty-Nineth Beginning (Nanowrimo 2007) Organizing Aunt Sheila

[Welcome to the middle of a long conversation between and Aunt and the Niece she has never met and who has been sent by the family to "help orgainize." Do not read any part of this as if it were a completed story or you will be disappointed. In 2007, my strategy for Nanowrimo was to call my efforts 'literary' use that as an excuse to dump ideas and references that had been collecting in my mind and desk and files for years. I skipped linear progression.]

[I also skipped quotation marks and dialog tags. They may or may not go back. I kind of like the ambiguity.]

[Barbara has collected stacks of notes and is reading from them as she and her Aunt Sheila sit on a log in a meadow an undetermined distance away from nearby houses. The point of their exercise is to enter things into a database and throw the pieces of paper away.]

Here’s another poem

Yard Waste

The gate posts lean and so the gates must drag

When they are opened, causing me to flag

When I consider mowing my front lawn.

And so the grass grows up, the leaves fall on.

The compost pile is too near to the house.

The spiders come, says Kate.  They’re dangerous

To her.  I’ll acquiesce some are.  But she

Will not consent to work the yard with me

If there are places one of them could hide.

And so the leaves pile up, the herbs have died.

If we removed the things that hinder us

In our endeavors, causing us to cuss,

Would we be free to sweep away our pain?

Or would we hobble ourselves once again?

That sounds finished.

Yes, it is.  I started trying to do a poem a day one year.  I got up to maybe seven.  I was using them to not do other things.

Then we need to send this in someplace.

You think so?

Sure.  You can show me how.  It will be educational

Projects?

projects

this must be day six

6:_Strange to me – a rondeau

He was strange to me and so I said

“Do you come here often to break bread?”
He smiled and said, “I do not break, I eat
My bread.”  I smiled and said, “How quite concrete!”
“Not concrete, no.  Too hard,” he said.  “I fed

On bread.”  “Yes, quite,” I said, and should have fled.
To be polite, I persevered instead.
I wished to keep the conversation sweet.
He was strange to me,

So I began again, although in dread.

“Was it here?”  Did he answer?  No.  Instead
He laughed and leaned back, shaking, in his seat,
Took off his shoes and offered me his feet.
He was strange to me.

I like this.

Send it in?

Oh, yes.

Any others

looks like two

Whispering, susurrant leaves rejoice

To the tips of their branches, providing voice
For winnowing windiness, nature’s choice

For shaking their suppleness.  On the ground

Rounderous granites release the sound
Of a blundering brooklet.  The water’s pound

Fluidly drumming a splashing hum,

Rubbed out of passing the rocks become
A resonant utterance flowing from

Sediment’s shadow and surface prance.

When we are walking the wood’s expanse
Drink in the sounds of the drifting dance.

Revel in movement’s vibrant display

Garnishing gladly the passing day
Ravish your ears with the sound bouquet. 

Nourish your ears at the noise buffet?  Ah.  No. 

Looks like you have two different last lines

I couldn’t decide.  They were both weak

We’ll post it and let it cook on the back burner

I have created a monster

Yes you have, and you love me.

Yes I do.

Ahem.  Here’s another –

It was a lovely day in a fair, bright land.

            Clunk, Skreek, Ting.

The sun was shining and clouds floated gently by.

            Clunk, Skreek, Clomp.

Birds twittered in the trees and butterflies flitted in the meadows.

            Clunk, Scrape, Ting.

A dashing knight in shining armor paused on the road.  Well, actually, the knight wasn’t dashing.  He had no horse and was moving much more slowly than a dash.  In fact he was walking. . .well, perhaps trudging up the road. . . with a slight limp.  And his armor had more dents than shine, although most of the dirt and scratches looked recent and the leather strapping was still in good repair. 

. . .

No need to read it all.  I've rewritten that one in three different styles.  The small girls I originally wrote it for have graduated college.  It hinges on a bad pun at the end.

Barbara looks.

I think it's on the second to last page.

Oh. That was a bad pun.  But it looks like it’s finished.

It's finished, but I'm not happy with it.  At the very least it needs to be edited.

I think you’ve left it set long enough.

Project

Project

This looks like a family newsletter.  Will I meet these people?

 [Will Barbara ever meet these people?  Tune in later and hope in vain that the story has been written far enough for you to find out.]

18 Twenty-Nineth Beginning (Nanowrimo 2007) Organizing Aunt Sheila

[Welcome to the middle of a long conversation between and Aunt and the Niece she has never met and who has been sent by the family to "help orgainize." Do not read any part of this as if it were a completed story or you will be disappointed. In 2007, my strategy for Nanowrimo was to call my efforts 'literary' use that as an excuse to dump ideas and references that had been collecting in my mind and desk and files for years. I skipped linear progression.]

[I also skipped quotation marks and dialog tags. They may or may not go back. I kind of like the ambiguity.]

[Barbara has collected stacks of notes and is reading from them as she and her Aunt Sheila sit on a log in a meadow an undetermined distance away from nearby houses. The point of their exercise is to enter things into a database and throw the pieces of paper away.]

There’s a picture of a saint holding a traffic cone.

I like that.  Someone did that for me.  It has sentimental value. You can roll your eyes as much as you like, until I remember who did it, it stays

This might be a poem

short

abbreviated, abridged, curtailed, decurtate

deficient, inadequate, insufficient, exiguous

inconsiderate, thoughtless, unceremonious, ungracious

compact, pointed

abrupt, forthwith, sudden

monosyllabic

Not a poem.  More of an arrangement.  Those are all long words meaning short.

Ah, irony

yes

recreational irony

got it

Rapunsel

." Such limestone beasts are the human-headed, winged bull and lion pictured here. The horned cap attests to their divinity, and the belt signifies their power. The sculptor gave these guardian figures five legs so that they appear to be standing firmly when viewed from the front but striding forward when seen from the side. These lamassi protected and supported important doorways in Assyrian palaces.
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The name lamassu is problematic. The Sumerian word lama, which is rendered in Akkadian as lamassu, refers to a protective deity, who is usually female. She is often shown as a standing figure that introduces guests to another god. Her male counterpart is called alad or, in Akkadian, *êdu.

During the Neo-Assyrian Empire (c.883-612), monumental bulls, often with wings and always with human heads, were placed as gateway guardians at the entrances of royal palaces. The general idea behind them was that they warded off evil. (In jargon: they were apotropaic figures.) Usually, they have five legs. Lion-bodied protective deities are also known, and are usually called "sphinxes".

Yes!  I need to save that for the story.

The one that you’re not writing.

I do not care.  I like the story.

your database 

There’s a bunch of cut and past stuff with the title Petitioning the Muse.

That’s a short . . thing.

Thing.?

I want to write up a petition to my muse and take it out to collect signatures.

Barbara smiled slowly.  You write it, I’ll video it.

Deal

that goes under projects, then

cool

This one says pantoum

Though rhyming hooks the mind and sticks

The words to mind for keeping hold,

It, and a poet's other tricks,

Are scorned as being stale and old.

The words to mind for keeping hold

Of honor, once thought soul's own prize,

Are scorned as being stale and old

And hidden, now, from prying eyes.

Of honor, once thought soul's own prize

Only old poets write, their quills

Are hidden, now, from prying eyes

In faded ink, their knowing spills.

Only old poets write, their quills

Are hushed, they fly like winter geese.

In faded ink, their knowing spills

Like falling down.  For memories

Are hushed, they fly like winter geese.

Poems don't rhyme, they walk like prose,

Like falling down.  For memories

Build slowly, so the thinking goes.

Poems don't rhyme, they walk like prose,

Create an image, burnish it

Build slowly, so the thinking goes

To gleaming. Let the mind submit

Creative image; burnish it

With feathers, left by birds who've flown.

To gleaming, let the mind submit

Yet never plot these words to own.

With feathers left by birds, who've flown

From labyrinths and never fell?

Yet never plot these words.  To own

Their meaning is to make a spell

From labyrinths and never fell?

Yet never plot these words.  To own

Their meaning is to make a spell

It’s an old style poem.  I don’t think it has an end yet

I’ll put it under projects

OK

This one has a few notes - Marketing Ploys,

shrink proof wrapping

building inspection

zombies

then there’s what looks like the beginning of a story

could you read it for me?

sure

On a dusty brick shelf in a dusty brick alcove sat an oversized coat button and a three by five card with the words DEPRESS BUTTON written on it in neat block letters.  At least Summermoon thought of it as an alcove, though she would not have objected if another person thought of it as a porch or an entryway.  At least she would not have objected if there were a door at the end of it.  Currently there was just the shelf with its two display items

[Barbara continues reading for awhile.  You'll find it with the hyperlink or by searching for Third Beginning.]

I think I have more of that somewhere else.  They didn’t even get inside.

How do they get inside?

She yells at the button, dissing on it mightily until it becomes depressed

that’s bad

very bad – it’s a short story, though

so it goes under projects

if you like

this next on is like a fragment – no title

There aren't any real goths in Stockton, but Web comes close if you catch him in dim light.  His slut of a mom never did him any favors and naming him Weber was the first sign that she was going to screw that baby over.  I've tried to convince him that the name means that he was conceived on the ground next to a cheap barbeque; but for all his skepticism, this is one point on which he needs hope to spring eternal.

He was sitting inside at Sid's, eating oatmeal with no sugar.  The OJ was already finished, of course, because he always drank it first, slowly.  He probably took exactly the same number of sips every day.  The glass of milk was untouched.  He didn't like it cold and would only begin on it after the oatmeal.  He was wearing black trousers with an ironed-in crease, a black polo shirt, white socks, and black boots.  You couldn't see the socks, of course, but I've known Web long enough to have heard the lecture on dyes next to your skin in intimate places more than once.  So I knew the socks were white.  I didn't know why feet were intimate places, but I've learned to leave monologs alone.  If you ever get the chance to ask, feel free to prolong the experience. 
-------

That’s part of Invasive Species, a story.  It starts out with the main character meeting Sid, then he goes to get breakfast the next day, then I think he meets Web.

Books I haven’t.

Yup.

There’s one with a bunch of quotes about hope. 

I wanted to do an exploration of the theme of hope in Pratchett’s Going Postal.

And you needed to research other themes of hope

Yes.  I didn’t get far.  I bought a book about hope in Johnson’s work, but didn’t slog through very far.

Projects.  It may be awhile before we get to it.

Here’s another poem

[Aaaand the conversation will continue later.  Yes, you'll see more of the no goths in Stockton beginning later.]