Usually something will pique my interest and result in a somewhat intelligible blog entry. That isn’t the case today. It all began yesterday morning. I consulted my “To Do” list and saw I had to call a restaurant in western North Carolina to make reservations for a graduation dinner. #2 Son is graduating from college next month and we’re going to have 10 folks there (him included) to celebrate. So the B&B where DH and I are staying recommended a restaurant that looked just perfect. Did I mention that DH and I are celebrating our 33rd anniversary the day before graduation? Hence the B&B. But I digress. I call the restaurant and learn they’re closed that day because of a wedding. I’m at square one with the graduation dinner as well as my blog. So I’ll just ramble and maybe something will make sense.
The Playground Tea Party
Put any group of writers together and talk will turn to favorite books and authors. One will like pure romance, one will like suspense and another will like historicals. And when explaining why they don’t like something, the phrase “It’s just not my cup of tea” is frequently heard. Hopefully they have tried the tea before they deliver a verdict.
I’ve always been a tea drinker and enjoy trying different kinds. My latest favorite tea is chai. It’s spicy, milky and sweet. It’s not for everyone. But neither are romance or suspense or historicals.
I’ve been hearing for a while now how great the movie “Pride and Prejudice” is and I finally got to see it last night courtesy of a friend of the Playground who loaned me her copy. I never read Jane Austen when I was a girl; instead I read Nancy Drew, then moved to more complex mysteries and a few older gothic romances. The DH is on a trip so I had the big screen TV and surround sound to myself. I fixed myself a plate of cookies and a cup of tea and prepared to be transported back to Georgian England.
The sets, costumes and music were very well done. But let’s just say that P&P wasn’t my cup of tea. I much preferred “Crash,” which I’d watched a few nights earlier. Sorry all you P&P fans. I tried. I really, really did.
I made a list of errands I had to run today and it included a trip to Walmart. I’ve been patronizing this particular store for about a year now and can navigate it pretty well. I don’t have to ask for things too often now. But today I go in and they’re apparently remodeling the store. They’re tearing up flooring. They’ve moved half the fabrics and crafts department around. The shoes are across the aisle from where they used to be. I had to walk all the way around the camping and outdoors section to get to electronics – and then back again.
What’s the use of my organization if their organization is shot to pieces?
Stories, Babies and Birth
Babies take time to gestate. And when they’re all done, they’re born. Stories are like that too. You start from a little speck of an idea, you feed it, worry about it, watch it grow and then one day it decides it’s time to be born. While human babies take 40 weeks (give or take a couple), stories have no set gestational period. I have one that I’ve been tinkering with for two years. On the other hand I typed up a short feature piece for a magazine in about an hour today and mailed it in. Of course it was only 300 words, but it was ready to be born.
And speaking of being born, #2 Son was a real pain in the arse 23 years ago today. I remember it like it was yesterday. I’d gone to the doctor for my weekly check-up and when he checked, I was 5 centimeters dilated. After assuring him that I was not in labor, he told me to go home, do what I needed to do and then come back to the hospital later. I told him that I could make a phone call and arrange for someone to pick up #1 son from playschool. My suitcase was already packed and in the trunk of my car. And I could call the DH and he’d come straight to the hospital. I was ready to birth that baby because not only had he sat on my bladder since conception, he’d been pressing on a nerve for about a week and it was darned uncomfy.
So I drove myself to the hospital, checked myself in at 11:00 AM, all the while repeating that no, I was not in labor, but I would be soon, and got ready to have a baby. The doctor came in during his lunch break and broke my water at 12 Noon. My contractions started at 1 PM and he was born at 4:58 PM.
Happy birthday, baby boy!
Ideas and Copyright
I posted a week or so ago about the Dan Brown lawsuit and the threat to ideas if he lost.
I’m delighted to report that the court ruled in favor of Mr. Brown. Ideas are safe!
I know that the best way to end a blog is to ask a question. This provokes thought and generally generates comments. So my question to you today is:
What was Captian Hook's name before he had a hook for a hand?
And if that one puzzles you, how about:
What if the hokey-pokey really is what it's all about?
And just in case you need another:
Why don't you ever hear about gruntled employees?
P.S. We got our 6100th blog hit yesterday!