For my Step-Dad on Father's Day

Long time readers know my dad died when I was young, but that doesn't mean I haven't had some stable, wonderful men in my life—grandparents, uncles, the fathers of friends. Today though, I'd like to talk a little about the great man who married my mom.

Art and my mom

The Romance was a Whirlwind



Caught us all off guard, I think. You see, I grew up in a pretty small town, and so everybody has some idea who everybody else is to some degree—at least among people with kids around the same age. Art was dating a woman who was a long time friend of my mom, but things weren't very rosy there. (she was sort of an uptight lady—she honestly never smiled because she believed it would give her wrinkles—in her defense, she had a lovely complexion--probably still does)



Spring break when I was in 8th grade, my mom and I went skiing and she let me take two friends with us—my BFF, Shannon, and Caroline. In McCall, we ran into Art and his kids—three boys (of ages on either side of me, and all in the 'cool' range) and a girl, and Kari, the daughter, who is youngest--4 years younger than me, saw this group of GIRLS and thought she'd sort of like to hang with us instead of her dad and brothers.



You see (and here is the 'holy crap, that IS a small town' part) Shannon's DAD was dating Art's ex-wife, so Shannon and Kari knew each other well.



That was when Art first decided mom was the woman for him... a lady who takes a group of teens skiing for break was his type of lady.



They got to know each other a little, but she solidly refused to date him because of this friend of hers.



She held out until I went with a group of students to Europe that June. I learned later that that allowed them to go OUT OF TOWN for a date... now this was my mother... that means ONLY what I said... that they drove 80 miles to Coeur d'Alene for dinner because my mom didn't want to run into anyone and make anyone uncomfortable unless they decided it was going to be a real thing.



I got back three weeks later and the two were already in it for the long haul. They got married in August.

With his daughter and her daughters and my mom

A FABULOUS Guy



He is the kind of man who takes the high road. Who preserves feelings, even if it makes him look like the bad guy. His divorce wasn't a smooth one, and though many might have bashed their former spouse, he never said a WORD. He didn't say anything negative to his kids because she was their mother and he loves them.



He is full of jokes and stories. He is the go to guy for help of all sorts—anybody can ask and they do—friends, family, neighbors, church members. He is a retired electrician, so the set of skills is more vast that most people have.



He is a master of innuendo. His tag line on the side of his truck said, “Let us remove your shorts”. Definitely a forerunner of my own pants-free movement.





As a Step-Dad



He was cautious about pushing it. I was 14 when they married, and he didn't press the father angle. It was probably good. Mom and I had been alone for four years and I wouldn't have reacted well to any heavy-handed parenting when I'd never had any. My mom's illusions were hard enough. I was grounded four times as a kid—three of them in the early weeks of their marriage.



I knew though, that I could count on him for anything—call when there was trouble.





As My Mom's Husband



See, this is the best part. My mom has an underdeveloped sense of whimsy. She got serious far too young in life and felt she had to stay there. Art though, pulls her into fun. He makes her laugh, he helps her play... and he smiles and nods when she gets on one of her soap boxes (most of which I agree with her on—they are often political, but I think Art just humors her)



I love that she has someone to lighten her life—to help her have a little fun.



Art, you're a good man and I love you!



And Happy Father's Day to all you dads out there! (Including HWMNBMOTI)





Edit:  I've done some rewording on this. My original post hurt the feelings of a few people and for that, I'm deeply sorry. I've apologized more formally here. 

My Bull Addiciton

Taurus, as some of you may know... is a very PLAYFUL sign. As a Cancer, two signs away, it happens to be the most perfectly MATCHED playful sign, and somehow this stretch of May is VERY hard for me to do anything... productive... Why, you must wonder... memories, for one... the 8th of May... for another...

We Cancers are sort of an emotional, family oriented sort, by reputation, but the Taurus playfulness has a sort of childlike joy to it... it doesn't SEEM like the self-indulgent play of the fire signs, or the self-destructive play of Pisces... Taurus play is a drug we Cancers can get addicted to.



I have several fast friendships with Taureans, and they are a different sort than a lot of my friendships. That complimentary thing goes a long way in bond formation. (yes, I believe this, though I never look at birthday when forming friendships... it's an after-thing). It's funny though... the difference in the girls and boys...



I have some good friends who are April Tauruses... relatively normal friendships—mostly female, but some males... I like them a lot... a lot in common... easy camaraderie...

Then there is the Week of the Exes... I honestly didn't even know most of these guys were Tauruses until reconnecting on FB but May 4-9 only has one day without a 'past love'--by love, I mean only infatuation/attraction most of the time, but considering there are 2 of them on the 5th, and that this is probably HALF of my life's deep attractions (3 of the others are Virgos... like me some earth signs, I guess—only 3 aren't one or the other (there is a Cancer, a Leo and a Libra in the others, if anyone cares))--seriously... what are the odds... that 6 of 12 'loves' would have their birthday in the same week? If ANYONE can explain this, I'd love to hear it. Note ALL of these are only friends now—I married one of my Virgos... in fact the 3 Virgos are the only 3 I ever felt I might marry... weird, astrology, when you think of it...



I suppose my memory may be skewed because ALL these Taurus boys are in my 'current friends' set—easier to remember people you still talk to (then again that says something... that I still talk to them...) ... but I have a feeling this particular week is ALSO one with the ability to relax the sometimes insecure Cancer. They have a sense of fun, a sense of loyalty, and an enjoyment in a little self-indulgence that is fairly suited to that first week of Cancer. (I'd LOVE feedback from my friends born this week... ALL of us are writers, so I know there are a few of you out there)

And then we get to the week starting 5/12... Of my 'intentional friendships'--those perhaps FORMED by proximity, but maintained because there is a deep connection... the 12th to the 19th is a pretty good run week on girlfriends for me. My current boss falls in here, for which I believe I am VERY fortunate.... one of my middle school friends... but my friend Stacy, who is the single person more nutty than me that I know, and my friend Natalie (I have a daughter named after her if that is any indication of how I feel)... this timing is the PERFECT match for total support... for fun when it is appropriate, for unjudging honesty... for BEING THERE...





So in honor... I just wanted to toss you all a little bull...



Taurus is ruled by Venus, goddess of beauty and the arts. This brings a love of luxury and affinity for the physical expression of love... tangible, tactile... do I need to be more clear? Sex matters. (as does good food, drink and ambience).



Tauruses LIKE STUFF... it is an aesthetics thing... they want to be surrounded by beauty (Cancer's like stuff, too, but for us, it is security).

The SYMBOL of Taurus, represents the bull and horns, but also the CUP of material power brought about by force of will. (HA! Force of will! I know about that!)



Taurus rules the neck and throat and often has individuals with a lovely speaking or singing voice (my daughter the Taurus provides supporting evidence here... she has had perfect pitch since birth (and covered my mouth because I didn't when she was a toddler *rolls eyes*)



So to all you Tauruses out there... I love yibus! You are my kind of drug. You keep we hermit Cancers venturing into the world and having fun, in spite of our hermit habits. I promise to always reflect as accurately as possible, as I think you can use the emotional check of your most complimentary sign.

For My Mom

I'm a bad daughter. It's not that I mean to be, but I am self-absorbed (I tend to live in my head)... I have always WANTED things I couldn't have (like a big brother—never seemed fair most of my friends had them and I didn't)... I was just never appreciative of what I did have.



Top that off with writer's brain, where I never see anything coming until it's on top of me, so the cards don't get mailed... and there's never any money, so flowers don't get ordered... but I was thinking Friday (scary, yes). What do I do that is straight from the heart and can be deeply personal... I write. So this is for my mom.

I'm always amazed how young she was: 19 here (I was 6 mo)

*****



I think it's really easy, when we are young, to make assumptions and judgments about our parents.

We are sure we would do this or that a different way.

But when we become parents ourselves... or as we pass life stages... and think about our moms...



Sometimes there are moments of awe.



My mom became a mom at 18 years old.

She had finished high school, but that is pretty much all.

She married my dad...

who lived another 11 years, but never DID grow up...

so she had two kids in a lot of ways (one of them capable of drinking his entire paycheck in a weekend).



She stepped up...

supported me

cared for me...

but in retrospect, what amazes me most is I never ONCE felt like the burden, that surely a child is when you have one at 18.

I never felt ANYTHING but loved and adored.

looking for an escape, I imagine...

I was petulant, sassy, precocious (I know... shocking...)

but my intelligence was encouraged

my need to speak my mind, nurtured



I was scolded if I was unkind... or if I broke rules or laws...

At four, I had to march back in to the Nobby Inn and pay for a mint because I'd taken it without asking (or paying)... the mortification kept me from EVER stealing.

I wasn't scolded though, for not conforming... I was never pressed to 'be like' anyone (or to better anyone).

Oh, sure, there was a lot I absorbed from my peers,

but never ONCE did my mom try to compare me...

to ANYONE. I was always solidly ME, and loved for that.

This was my dad's favorite picture of 'his girls'

As I try to nurture my own daughter's fragile confidence and self-esteem, I am amazed at what my mom did, because I never questioned my own value. I never believed for a second I wasn't good enough... for ANYTHING. I was entirely sure I was. I knew and know without any doubt I can do anything I set my mind to... except perhaps instill that confidence in the people I love most.



When my dad died, I was 10, and my mom gave me another invaluable gift.

She went back to school.

The lesson that education is the route to a better life stuck.

The lesson that succeeding requires HARD WORK stuck.

The lesson it's never too late stuck. And any subject can be conquered... stuck.

The lesson that if we schedule the work time, we then actually have the play time stuck.

Before braces, but AFTER gap-consciousness

It would have been easy, when my dad died, to use his life insurance money to make ends meet while she went to college, but instead we lived frugally (on social security) and that life insurance money became my 'the college YOU want' fund. I had choices.



But we still managed a few great vacations... live lean, then splurge... we went to Disneyland, Hawaii... then on our spring break ski trip in 8th grade, she met Art. My stepdad is pretty great, because my mom's primary flaw is she takes everything too seriously, and he keeps her 'light'... makes it 'fun'.



Those lessons though... don't waste, don't use more than you need... man, I wish I was better at instilling those in my family... but I think they are good lessons, even if my skill to pass them on seems to be nil... I know I asked for a lot... but I also felt some responsibility for it... I SAW what was given up in exchange...

It was sometimes hard to have the 'hot mom' she was 31 here, I was 12

I had a partial scholarship and so maintained the GPA needed to keep it... that was my JOB... COLLEGE was my JOB...



I think there are some lessons we don't notice when we absorb them... but looking back, we see them at work. Had my mom ever threatened and said 'you know if your grades drop...' the rebel in me would have responded badly... but she'd laid the groundwork. She didn't need to say it.

The last 4-Generation Photo--3 moms here... 2004

Some of the groundwork was unintentional, I think... “you need an education because you want choices.” Oh yeah... I got my education... but I think the choice to marry a man who'd then often be dependent never crossed her mind... it wasn't her generation, an 'at home dad' hadn't been invented. But from my end, the lessons served me well. I never could have been the at-home parent... it isn't my temperament.



So mom, THANK YOU! You did an amazing job! (I mean just look at me *cough*) But seriously... trying to parent myself makes the things you did well SO much clearer. I love you!



I wish all you mom's a very happy mother's day!

Mildred’s Tale

This is sort of Halloween themed… When I was in college I was in a sorority—I won’t name it.  My local sisters all got the Naked ME, but I’m not so sure the national council would see it that way, but anyway… we had a brother fraternity… and the brother fraternity happened to live in the house that was originally OUR house.  Now this fraternity (or rather, the house) had a GHOST.  The ghost went by the name of Mildred.  Mildred was NOT a former Figi (obviously, as she was female), so the story GOES that Mildred was one of US.





I rushed as a sophomore (on a dare, but never mind; and for those of you who have never contemplated it: rush is the process of choosing a Greek house on a college campus--but while you choose them, they also choose you--it can be ugly); the University of Oregon didn’t start school until late September.  Once started, there were often parties on the weekends, paired with a fraternity, but the first BIGGIE was a Halloween party... with out brother Figis—the THEME?  Mildred’s Wake.

You see... according to the social chair (a girl named Meagan who was very tempting to believe because mostly I fell over laughing when she talked) MILDRED NEEDED US! She was in agony and needed this wake to put her at PEACE.

So we all got costumed. To go to the party we walked through Pioneer Cemetery, a detail that freaked out a few of my sisters. Me? Cemeteries are a little cool... in fact a few years later, I had sex in the same cemetery, but don't tell anyone—it's in poor taste. *cough*

But anyway, when we got to the Figi's, a tale was told about Mildred... her depression... suicide... her HAUNTING...

Mildred was picked upon... Sad...

But as a ghost Mildred had a sense of humor... she interrupted at... rather obnoxious times.

She was compassionate: showing up for people needing sympathy.

She was annoying: creating an alternate noise when someone was trying to... be sneaky.

The consensus was... Mildred was a bit strange... Many Fijis SWORE they had had a Mildred experience...

Our wake for Mildred was a GLORIOUS party. It was briefly solemn, stories of her death... but the tales of her haunting changed the tone quickly.  Our Figi brothers were a good match for the quick switch--they really appreciated Mildred. It then became an enjoyable celebration of Mildred's life, an appreciation of her ghostly humor...

Any of you had any 'real ghost' experiences?

I am mostly a skeptic about paranormal, but ghosts are a different matter to me—mostly because of how I see life... as an energy concentration of sorts... I think it is possibly some people are so concentrated they manage to stick around a while... or something... So I'd love to hear evidence for or against ghosts...

Mockingjay

Totally late on a Mockingjay review... I LOVED the book (unlike my poor friend Leigh who wasn't pleased). My thought on the matter is this. War is dark. Love triangles are sticky. I really felt like it was the book it needed to be. I thought what happened to Peeta was exactly right-- realistic, given their reality... and REDEEMING for a skeptic like yours truly who never quite found him a worthy interest before this.

Yes, war is ugly. I admire Collins for not shying away from what was necessary to keep this compelling.

It was just a darned good book.

Movie/Writer Melding

Cheap Therapy is holding a MOVIE Bloghop on the 18th for movies about WRITERS.  Now I know the brainstorming can be a little rough, but there are some great ones, so why not join the fun!?

Megan Kehew Baroni: Warrior Extraordinaire

There is a funeral in Boston today for a young woman I never met, and yet I grieve. In fact my first online family is reeling, and so I thought it made sense to post a tribute.







The Newest Mrs. Weasley



Most of you know my entry into writing seriously came at the doors of fan fiction, but before fan fiction ever occurred to me, there was the Wizard War thread at HPANA. I joined and began making friends before the release of Half Blood Prince, and we theorized and debated the way things would go, tore through every hint that was dropped (chapter titles, news of an impending death).



In the fervor that followed the release, into the thread came an outgoing young woman calling herself The Newest Mrs. Weasley, and claiming she was newly married to RAB. Now those of you who are Potter obsessed may remember the hint dropped in Half Blood Prince that RAB had taken something pretty significant from one ‘Dark Lord’ so Megan was an instant hit.

She was smart (working on an architectural master’s degree), able to string clues together to develop interesting new theories or to argue for or against the ones presented by others. It was how we all bonded, and so she was one of us.



We heard about her sailing, her travels (often hysterically funny stories about her travels—the one to the left was in DC with her sister—giving a thumbs up to Sandra Day O’Connor), her sisters. We heard complaints about movie-makers mucking up the flow of traffic in front of where she lived (damn Tom Cruise!), and the adventures of her and the fabulous RAB…







Sad News



On Wednesday, my friend Joris noticed strange Facebook feed on her page and went searching for information.  He found an obituary. ‘Sudden illness’ was an unsatisfying answer for a 30 year old woman, so Rissa dug a little deeper and found a note that said she’d had an aneurism Sunday. They tried to do surgery, but the swelling around the brain stem meant chances were very poor. She died on Monday.





My Wizard Warriors

It’s amazing how people can touch each other so deeply without ever coming face to face—how much of a group mourning process this really is. Reactions vary, and none of our friends or family in real life get it. Sobbing sadness, anger, resentment that this vivacious, talented, loving and loved person could be taken so young, while bitter mean people live a full century.



For me the overwhelming sensation is shock. I just talked to her—I’m sure it hasn’t been more than a week or two since we shared the same Facebook conversation… it is approaching the season where she pulls out her Tweed and I start itching and preaching the superiority of nudity to her… we’ve had the argument annually for five years (fall was her favorite because she got to get out her tweed).



[I can’t even imagine what her family, and the wonderful RAB must be going through. My heart goes out to them. I hope they know there is a lot of love for Megan among her geeky Potter friends.]



I went to send emails Wednesday afternoon, to make sure there were as few un-notified Wizard Warriors as possible… and there she was in my address book.  Just no words.  How are there no words?



We all came together through our Potter-love, but I think we all got so close for two reasons… we laughed together, and we supported each other. This fantastic and varied group of people holds each other up, so what I am recommending for my Wizard Warrior peeps is a weekend long wake. Let’s head into our thread and remember Megan and support each other.

Life Too Short

I've had a couple of reminders this week that sometimes life is shorter than we expect. The first is an MS I am reading for a friend that I am not at liberty to discuss, except to say it's a tear-jerker. But Wednesday, at Chapter by Chapter I got my first sighting of a sad tale. I should probably start at the beginning...

Last Spring I signed up for a contest where participants were supposed to submit their 'first choice prize' as well as enter. I put that I wanted a Chapter 1 review. I was contacted a little while later by Callie from Chimera, a group of editors who were trying to get going with an editing gig. Initially my interactions were all with Callie (Callie is the name of the Grey's Anatomy character I identify with, other than that whole lesbian thing, by the way... erm... and my cat, though she is Cali... but I digress...)



Anyway... I WON the critique from them and got critiques from Callie, Erica (who's become a good blogger buddy and the way I learned all this) and Zellie (about whom this tale is about to become—was that an awkward phrase, or what?). The critiques have been very helpful... if I'd only now apply it forward through the rest of the MS... but really, this is more about connections made.

Zellie Blake



I learned Wednesday that Zellie had lost a battle with cancer. Zellie was young and healthy, and the cancer was rare and unexpected. Like so many of us, Zellie was a writer. I encourage you to read through Erica's posts about some of her inspiring last months and the writing accomplishments (including meeting one of her idols—being featured in an article he wrote) and publishing her book with all proceeds to go to cancer research. I only had a couple emails exchanged with Zellie—I didn't know her well. But I can see how she impacted the lives of people I care about, so Zellie, you will be missed.





It got me thinking... (this... and that super secret project I am giving a hand on)





If you know your time is short... what REALLY matters? What is it you have to get done?



Who would you want to see?

Who would you want to MEET?

What legacy would you feel compelled to leave?





Me? I would definitely take a trip back west... hold parties in Moscow and Portland, urging people I've known to come, but I'd also have some serious small group bonding with closest friends and family. I'd work things out with my mom... and make her promise to play nice with my husband, because he'd be in charge of whether her grandkids ever saw her.



If I could SWING IT, I'd meet JK Rowling, Peter Straub, Tom Robbins, Stephen King—any of the Pythons... and I'd try to meet as many of my writer friends as I could.



And I would DEFINITELY try to get the books I've already written cleaned up, but short of that, I would leave my PLANS with the Burrow with my wishes to split proceeds between them and my family if they managed to get anything published.



What about all of you? If you KNEW life would be short, what would you be sure to fit in? I think Zellie did a stellar job with the time she had.

Bonding at Sam's Club

A Little History

So when my kids were little we had a Sam's Club membership. It wasn't that I loved Sam's Club—after all, it is owned by the evil WALLMART, but when I had a child in diapers... three pets... A house to maintain... it just was sort of a necessity. Our area HAD no CostCo [read: highly preferable warehouse store] at the time (the existing CostCo's are still a comparatively long way away). So Sam's Club it was.



I worked full time. My husband was the 'at home' dad. So on the weekends I had the kids—he was fed-up and I sort of needed some bonding time. My husband was UNWILLING to do the Sam's Club trip because he had already acquired the delusion that we were made of money and the whole concept annoyed him. So to Sam's Club with the small childings it was...

Eight YEARS (part of which, my family looked like this—miniature kids and me at goal weight)... twice a month (or thereabouts)... the kids and me... Sam's Club. My son—you may not know this—is called Sam. And as small children are inclined to do... he figured if it was called 'Sam's Club' it was HIS. Never mind that the concept of a child having his own warehouse store is a little wonky. He would say, 'there's my club!' as we approached.



About two years ago the savings from the membership sunk under the membership cost... we haven't had a membership because between the drive and our current need, it just really wasn't quite worth it anymore.



But this weekend they had a 'anyone can come in' weekend, so my husband asked if it was a good idea to make a trip... Sure... there is some stuff we could use... I threw it out. BOTH KIDS REALLY wanted to go with me. WTF? They are 15 and 11 now, and they wanted to give up half their Saturday to go to Sam's Club with me? WITH EACH OTHER?

The Trip



(not my ACTUAL shopping cart... just representative) So I got them up at noon—they ARE teens, after all... got them fed... and off we went. They joked the entire time about 'buying in bulk' whatever they saw, they suggested we needed to buy in bulk... 'look, mom—there is a pack of nine phones. We could put one in the bathroom' *rolls eyes* Our house doesn't have nine rooms—no, wait... it has exactly nine rooms... but we'd need a phone in the storage room and laundry room... They negotiated—'you get to pick two snacks, I get to get two snacks.' They harassed me over things they were sure we needed and got all nostalgic over things we used to buy (I gave in and bought snack packs of applesauce). I guess what really struck me though, is that other than a couple movies, the three of us haven't done much with all three of us in a long time, and I think they really MISSED these Saturdays shopping together... such an ODD thing to get nostalgic about, but they WERE. And I really liked it, too. So there you have it... you never know where the moments might poke through. Take them where they come.





On that EXCITING note, I bought two thumb drives and two packs of NOTEBOOKS!!! I salivate when I buys notebooks. I love them... spiral. Three ring... Each one is a novel to me. And because it was Sam's Club, I have 10 of them... 10 novels sitting in the chair WAITING to be written. Makes me all squiggly just thinking about it! And blue, medium point pens! SQUEEEEEEEE!

Rejection and Mrs. Ringo

First off, I should tell you that I am ALSO at Burrowers, Books & Balderdash today, Spreading the Love (literally—that's my blog title)--so if you want a little love, head on over THERE, too.



Now the project HERE today, has to do with The Rejectionist's Blogiversary... she asked for an 'essay' on what a form rejection means to ME.... So here it goes...

Rejection and Mrs. Ringo



Y'all know with the Naked World Domination Tour, and the ever-growing cadre of minions, that sometimes I FORGET the world won't be handed to me on a silver platter. I mean it SHOULD, right? I'm deserving. But there are bizillions of people out there, including pretty much ALL the literary agents, who haven't gotten the message. It all reminds me a little of how I became intent on Total World Domination (even if I had yet to merge the fact of my Nudism with it at the time). I have Mrs. Ringo to thank.



My high school math teacher looked... pretty much EXACTLY like the girl of the Campbell Soup Kids (somebody back me up here—calling on Moscow High School grads—she DID, didn't she?) Her voice didn't help, it was high pitched and very precious... imagine how a Cupie Doll would sound... And I gave her an awful lot of grief, though hopefully she only knew the half of it, as part of it consisted of writing down what she wore each day (she had 4 outfits) and keeping track of how many days her pants had a chalk line from leaning on the blackboard (she ran about 85%). I was a SERIOUSLY TERRIBLE HORRIBLE STUDENT. A NIGHTMARE.

In my defense, I was in the advanced math class and desperate to prove I was STILL A REBEL, even if I was good at math. No easy feat when in a class of 200, only ONE math class was ahead in Jr. High, and in my first high school math class EVERYONE was older.



You see though, the joke was on ME. Mrs. Ringo would say things to me (by the time I got to Calculus and so only had same age peers, which emboldened me to be more openly a smartass), “Well, Tami, I don't think YOU can do this.” (Tami is my peon name, if you'll remember) She was referring to getting an A on a test, or a certain kind of problem. And do you want to know how I responded?



Anyone who has read my blog for any length of time KNOWS I hate to be told what I can and can't do... that being told 'you can't' makes me do it just to spite them... no matter HOW I have to bust my butt to do it... So all these things Mrs. Ringo said I couldn't do? I did. Oh, I didn't always get As in Calculus... Only when she basically DARED ME. She was a whole heck of a lot smarter than I gave her credit for—one of VERY few teachers to EVER tap into my inner rebel.



And what does that have to do with form rejection? *cough* My second round of queries, my inner rebel yawned. My third round it opened an eye. And then I proceeded to find ANOTHER WAY IN. HA! Take that you Tart Rejector you! I will make it WITHOUT the query process! HA!



By this, I mean... I managed to find a back door... get a referral... establish a relationship with an agent... audition for a specific series and get a contract offer... erm... Okay, so it's not even a back door. I crawled in a window... but there was no Query involved.

The form rejections have been saved... about 30, I think, since a couple never responded... I will wallpaper with them one day... And I'm SURE I will Query again, though my project agent will get first shot the next time I feel something is truly cleaned up for submission, and if SHE doesn't want it, she darned well isn't going to give me a FORM REJECTION about it, as we have a working relationship on something she is getting money for, so at least I will have a chance to clean it up with some advice, or a referral to an agent she knows, if it is just a genre she doesn't want to sub.



I really get the NEED for form rejections, but I think as writers we can't take them too personally. To a QUERY, I really never have. To a requested partial or full—it is a little offensive—a sentence at least, would be nice, but hey... I am in the process of hiring right now, and I don't relish contacting the people we didn't pick, so I guess I get that to some degree too... just part of the process. I am just not inclined to follow rules.

The USA and My Mother

The parallel problems of a woman with Authority issues.

I should probably warn you right of the bat that it is likely I will offend anyone who is very patriotic. That's what I do though, stick my foot in my mouth, and this pair of relationships really DOES have a lot in common, so there you have it.

I'm a bad patriot. And a bad daughter.

You see, I don't like to be told what to do. I sort of live my life more along the lines of the Hippocratic oath than any following of laws, per se. Just because it is the rule, is JUST not good enough. I admit most rules are rules to avoid people getting hurt (those I follow) or to help us coordinate with each other (those are mostly okay), but the 'it's the law' never flew with me.



I am of the belief that world empirical domination of nations have about a century per country to run their course. The Dutch had the 1600s. The British the 1700s. The French the 1800s.... and the USA the 1900s. But you see, in the few decades of 'no longer able to make everybody bend at our feet' ALL these countries have behaved badly for a while. It is currently the US's turn.



This is not to excuse it. Just to point out that I think it is the natural course of events. So there are A LOT OF PEOPLE in the US trying to 'go back' to some (mythical, I might add) good old days, and trying to force other nations to RECOGNIZE our superiority, which frankly, we just don't have anymore.



But a girl isn't supposed to criticize her mother... I promise at the end I will try to make some amends. How's that?



But first I want to go through some of the trouble, where I am concerned...

Disparate Desires

(what she says/what she really means)



My Mother

“I want you to have choices!” (to work or stay home)/but under no circumstances are you to allow your partner those choices—HIS only option should be to work. Choice is for you alone.



“You can't count on somebody else taking care of you—you need skills.”/And nobody should count on YOU either. Only inferior people can't take care of themselves financially.

“You are such a strong, independent woman.”/But I'm too sensitive for that, so don't inflict any of that strength on ME.



(about a woman we know who forgave a cheating husband) “She is so forgiving, amazing really. I don't know if I could have done that.”/because forgiveness is something we TALK about being good, but really that just isn't what we DO. It's all well and good in theory, but it lets people off the hook.



My Country

“Individualism and an entrepreneurial spirit are what made this country great”/but now that we're great already, it is time for everybody to fall into line.



“We are the world's melting pot.”/but the fondue is ready and we've started eating, so don't put anything ELSE in there! Anyone to arrive after world war II really is just unable to contribute, unless of course they are willing to work under the table for less than minimum wage in dangerous conditions—in THAT CASE it's just good for Capitalism.



“We have Separation of Church and State.”/but of course presume everyone is Christian, so it doesn't matter anyway... unless someone tries to do something that some small subset of this group finds offensive! THEN YOUR BUSINESS IS OUR BUSINESS!





Compounded by Daddy Issues



My dad was mostly a great big kid. He was too loud. He drank too much. (funny, some people say those things about me). He was macho, and he was reckless. MOSTLY, because he was also good-natured, he was also just pretty fun, instead of scary. But you know what you DON'T want to do with a macho, reckless guy who drinks too much? Encourage him to play with explosives. The fourth of July, with my macho (need I say Patriotic—that is PART of macho in my world—or maybe the problem REALLY is that I see MACHO as part of Patriotic, and macho is not my favorite feature), reckless, drunk dad and his EXPLOSIVES was the only time he really SCARED ME.



We usually spent the fourth at my grandparents' lake cabin, located on an Indian Reservation in northen Idaho—reservations mean two things among the macho... no TAX on alcohol and cigarettes, and no LIMITS on what is legal for fireworks. This addition of explosives divided family and friends solidly into two camps. The safe, sane (boring) camp, and the reckless, drunken, blowing-shit-up camp. Explosions from one team. Shrieks from the other... usually for an entire three day weekend. And when I was a KID, I loved it.



It is currently however, tied in my mind to 1976—US Bicentennial. The fourth happened six days before my dad died driving drunk—too fast on a gravel road—and somehow the sound track for me of that memory, is the weekend of the fourth of July.



Oh, I'm mostly over it. My husband and some neighbors do a group fireworks thing in our street, and I love sitting out in the front yard—talking to neighbors, catching fireflies, drinking cocktails. I may drink too much, but I am NEVER the one blowing stuff up, and I ALWAYS plea for 'pretty lights' instead of explosions. But the fourth is STILL not my favorite holiday.

Back to being a bad patriot and daughter



I really probably need to work through the same stuff with mom and country I have with my dad... seeing the flaws, but ALSO being willing to see the good. There is good. I just have often resisted seeing it. Maybe that is what I should work on this year...



The US has AMAZING and varied geography, a fabulous collection of cultures, enough resources that a good portion of our population has a ton of opportunity (even if it bothers me that those opportunities are unfairly distributed).



And my MOM, gave me a great foundation—a belief I could do ANYTHING I wanted to do—hard work and determination were the only limiting factors. My confidence, my work ethic, my unwillingness to give up—those are from my mom. Not bad, as legacies go.



I need to work on that acceptance thing... the forgiveness I accuse my mom of not having... few things improve if we wait for everybody else to change first.



and so I don't leave you thinking I have no patriotic spirit, please enjoy the following...

Muppet Independence Day Tribute

Burrowing Birthday

So I am posting at a time that it is NATASHA'S birthday in India (and a THURSDAY!) and my birthday in the states... yesterday this time, plus 2 hours, it was Jason's birthday in the Pacific Time Zone and MINE on the east coast... I like how we overlap like that...



I've LEARNED this week, that I also have a new blogger friend Leigh with a birthday today (the 24th today, not the hour remaining of the 23rd)... So we are having a BIRTHDAY PARTY!

I've decided, based on the vast experience I've had *cough* that Cancers are particularly fond of having a NICE LONG birthday celebration... typically measured in weeks, but sometimes in months. It may have SOME root in liking to be at the center of things, but I think it is ALSO tied to just liking a really good party.







A Little Reminiscing



When I was REALLY young, birthdays were a little rough... a summer birthday, as a kid, means no cupcakes at school, half your friends away when it is party time... it is a let down of sorts to pass the milestone in absence of a grand fiesta... maybe that is what the 'making up for it' is about... But my grandparents, and later my parents, had a lake cabin, so I grew to appreciate 'a few friends to the lake' instead of a BUNCH of friends to the house.



About the time I hit high school though, I decided my extended family was fabulous (not that I hadn't known earlier, but family + one or two friends was PERFECT)...



I think my favorite birthday was my 16th—not a sweet sixteen, but a family party to which I convinced my crush to come... My mom bought a whole bunch of crabs (my favorite food) and it just was very nice...



Through college it seems birthdays were no big deal—I was barely home from school for summer, Oregon being on a quarter system... but when I got to Portland after college, and proceeded to live with my best friend for a while, we took up the habit of throwing EACH OTHER birthday parties (she is just a week later than me, and really GETS that a birthday should be a nice grand event...) I really miss her this time of year... The hubby never HAS gotten it...





The Cusp of Gemini Bond



Look what I found!

I was an adult before I really knew anybody born closer to my birthday than... say the 26th or 27th... I know lots of July Cancers, and TONS of June Geminis, but that Cancer/cusp of Gemini... I just didn't run across too many. I STILL haven't run across that many, but every last one of them I meet (other than the children, who probably just aren't there yet) are writers... compelled... possibly unnaturally. We are ruled by the moon both as ruler and sub-ruler, which means our fingers are on the emotional pulse of... pretty much everything... we feel big, we emote... but instead of getting all dramatic about it (as we would in the LAST deconate of Cancer under Leo's influence) we want to COMMUNICATE about it... I love that blurb that suggests rather than Gemini mediating the cancer emotion, instead CANCER gives the creativity to the Gemini intellect.  They are the letters and numbers... Cancer gives it STORY.



I think there also runs a slight detachment to all this drama we are documenting—we are part of it as historians and recorders, not propagators... I've never seen Natasha or Jason fly off the handle... Oh... Natasha can get irritated, but THAT is just that Indian culture encourages directness—it tends to be things that irritate me, too, but I have that instilled “if you can't say anything nice...” thing going on... But we aren't the CAUSE of the drama... none of us (oh, sometimes I annoy—I am just a little too... much... but I say that is other people being hypersensitive). Still, we note it... we turn it into story fodder, or blog meanderings... Our emotions are very real, but in the form of WORDS.





So now that I've projected my personality onto my Burrow mates because I think I'm right... LET'S PARTY!!!!!

We need some beverages...



I can offer you microbrews, fruity rum things (or fruity rumless things if you prefer), ritas, or the champagne fountain.





Some music...



We've got a fine tropical beat to encourage the LIMBO!

Some boys to dance like I like... (don't ever let them tell you the Tart doesn't like anything classy!--Oh, I know they'll try, but this guy is doing BALLET!)

Though I wouldn't want you to think I had limited range...











And a little truth or dare.



EITHER:



1) tell YOUR most memoroable birthday or

2) Streak down the hall in the buff...



Hope you all have a FABULOUS day!

TARTIVERSARY!!!!

It's a Tartiversary

It's a Tartiversary

It's a Tartiversary

Iiiiiiiiit's a Tartiversary!



(come on... sing... I know you know the tune...)





You know what I just learned? If you 'google image' the word Tartiversary, EVERY image is from my blog! That makes it my OWN FREAKING WORD! Oh sure, I lent it to my Sister Tart last week, but she apparently wasn't nearly obnoxious enough with it...

The pool is filled with champagne, The kiddie pool is filled with pudding (to wrestle in--Alex, does this help make up for the man butts?), the fountain is filled with chocolate, and the Soundtrack for the Naked World Domination Plan is PLAYING!



Super Freak



Rainbow Connection



Boys Wanna Be Her (Doll, you make them feel so small, and they love it)--does this song scream World Domination Tour or WHAT?--Video is on the violent side, but I LOVE the song...



I can't believe it was only a year ago I began this blogging thing—it is such a natural extension of my insanity that I really should have discovered it in about 2001, though my life at that point (with a 6 and a 2 year old) wouldn't have accommodated it time-wise. But MAN, this is fun...



I think most people, if you talk to them, have strong preferences for the kind of social networking they like best, and this is DEFINITELY my thing. I love Facebook, but it is more a keep up with friends tool than a make NEW friends tool—Oh, I've made a few friends there—my sister Tart, Jan, I found there... The Divine Marian... but I feel like HERE, with the volume we all SHARE, it is far more conducive to getting to KNOW each other... Facebook, mostly, are acquaintances... HERE we make friends. Twitter, we NETWORK. The Twitter thing I think I ONLY do for the cross pollination of the other things I do... to Tweet about blogs... and that is important, as I learned recently with the BuNoWriMo thing... MAN, can it make a difference! But it is too fast paced and 'right place/right time' dependent. I don't like something I have that little control over. Blogging though... THAT, I love... you see... I get to spout my ideas and opinions and then people READ THEM! HooHOO! (is my narcissism showing?)







Sentimental Journey



I finished my first book in October 2008 and proceeded to polish and hone. In April 2009 I (MISTAKENLY) felt I was ready to query for the first time and dived into Facebook with an author's profile. Two months later, I decided I needed a blog. My first ever post can be found, here. A little after a month in, I came out as having my writing roots in Harry Potter and invited my friends (see below) and I started madly inviting my Facebook friends to follow via Networked blogs... progress tricked along... I made friends... and oddly enough, I grew in my confidence to DO THIS THING. I think NaBloWriMo (National Blog Writing Month, post a blog every day for a month) last October, took things to a new level... for starters, I dragged some of my writing group into this blogging thing... (me and my FOMS[Fear of Missing Something], doing that peer influence thing...) it's always been the way... The Tart can't resist and soon all her friends are knee deep in it...



But that was a turning point of sorts... a feel for how EVENTS can grow things... I've waxed and waned for how much of that I had time for, but I've definitely kept my eyes open, as I think it's one of the better ways to grow your blog visibility, and if people never see you, they can't fall in love.



And I fit in the writing stuff... oddly enough, writing four more books in that year, but having my GRANDEST success via blog... voice spotted... suggestion made... trial attempted... so a year later, I may not have an accepted book, but I DO have a contract... and agent... a plan... leave it to me to back in...





Blog High Points



(these are the ones that sort of shocked me at the time with a high number of hits or comments)

August was about the point I passed the 'average of five' comments per blog... but the formatting for the blogs back then lack paragraph breaks for some blogger related reason... I was angsty in August, probably because I was querying, and that was when I CONFRONTED my mother about problems I'd identified clear back in June. But I was definitely getting my legs under me, planning my book tour, joining stuff, making friends, I started getting blog hits for people searching Naked World Domination Tour and Nudist Group. In February..., 8 months in, I finally felt my first inkling of fame with  Be A Blog Slut (19 comments, which at the TIME felt like a million)... Some may have frowned at my resorting to admirable arses and beautiful behinds in April as I blogged A to Z, but hey... when you are a Tart, it is probably better to work with it than against it—you try to hide it and eventually you offend 'em ANYWAY and misleading then offending is worse than being upfrontally offensive... or so I see it... sort of the difference between being a tease and a slut... see, the first is unforgivable, the second, merely naughty... such is tart logic.







Fabulous Followers



I was feeling really proud of progress, then went to Karen Gowen's Blogiversary yesterday and saw in one year SHE had earned 256 followers, or some such thing... Ah well... there will always be overachievers out there, eh?



My story is slow and steady... My Zodiac location (Cancer) on the solar map, in some cultures, is the tortoise, after all (still crusty on the outside, soft in the middle, with a shocking resilience) My first followers came as I poked a couple friends (mostly my writer's group), but the first big spurt (13 followers according to the comments on the Harry Potter outing post listed above) came from me making a plea where people already knew me. You see, I got my writing legs acclimated at HPANA, a Harry Potter site, writing fan fiction. I went from a tentative wobbly writer, to a confident (if still insane) one. From there I begged on Facebook... (pathetic, yes, helpful... erm... probably). NEXT, I started stalking Elizabeth, and following the blogs in her sidebar and commenting THERE (that helped a bunch—she's friends with some very nice people)--for the record... if you want to build a following, I DEFINITELY recommend stalking someone who's doing it right.



My first EVENT that earned me followers in a batch was the NaBloWriMo-- there was some mutual following and lots of support—I think I maybe earned another dozen followers that way... the year rounded out with maybe 50 followers at my 6 month mark... Participating in Amazon earned me some more, but possibly only because I began a TOPIC there on blogging and got it rolling. There was a way to LINK blogs, but I think people weren't actively doing much with them.



By April and Blogging A to Z, I had 70 followers and gained about 40 through participating from blogging A to Z , a handful from BuNoWriMo and a couple even in the last few days that I think may be because I am following more Cozy Mystery blogs and Tweeters... So there we have it... one year and looking like 131 followers via Blogger, 147 through Facebook (though I figure there is about a 30-50% overlap—people following both ways. So somewhere around 200 people...





It pleases me.

My Thanks to You



I don't have large stashes of swag to share, but I want to do a drawing to thank all of you, past and future for supporting me.



Leave a comment FOR TODAY, June 12, totaling the following.



-New followers get one (after I went to bed last night—via blogger—I don't have a way to see WHEN network bloggers join, BUT if you were a follower via FB and ADD via blogger—tell me, you can get the 3) , older followers get THREE entries (because I love you already and want you to have an advantage for already being on the Good Ship Tart!)



-If you can get THAT man to follow me, automatic win.



-Tweet me—one more chance (please include @hartjohnson)



-Facebook share this post—one more



-Mention in a blog with a link (and share with me)—two more



I am giving away a critique—either a plot read of a whole novel (up to 500 pp). Review will include a summary of strong and weak, and probably a sentence or two for each chapter about what worked and didn't, or a CAREFUL read—grammar, sentence structure—in track changes, of the first 50 pages. I'm not a super SPEEDY reader, but I've gotten pretty good at suggesting how a broader work might be improved. If you don't NEED a critique, it is transferable to someone you are friends with who DOES need one--just email me with who gets it.



I will tally and do the draw at the end of June... closing Midnight East Coast US time as it turns from June to July. but I am only considering comments on TODAY'S blog. (just a ton easier to keep track of)







Back to the PAH-TAY!



So your final assignment is to do something this weekend that is a SPLURGE. Eat or drink something you normally don't, spend some time (alone, with someone—define your splurge) that is indulgent compared to normal life, enjoy some scenery, or some company, or some aesthetic pleasure that you usually just put off... (it could be a museum if you like art, a trail if you like nature, a nudy magazine if you are Mr. Tart...) Whatever it is you ENJOY that you normally put off... enjoy it a little this weekend... as your Tartiversary present to me!  If you can do it naked, all the better--at the VERY least, forgo pants.



You people are FABULOUS!

Dark Tart/Light Tart

Y'all have heard me grumble about my crabby hubby from time to time, yeah? You know he can be difficult? I had a big giant reminder this week as to WHY such a light hearted, happy-go-lucky gal as myself might choose such a person as a partner... let me e'splain...

Dark and Mysterious Leanings



I've mentioned before that though I am drawn a little like Barbie's flat-chested little sister, I prefer to think of myself as more of a Vixen, a Wench, a... yes, I'll say it, a TART. I don't CARE that I don't look the part, I crave sexy, naughty and shocking as part of my identity. I will NOT behave, and I refuse to let YOU without doing my darndest to make sure you know this other way is more fun. So there.



I even like a little DRAMA, though I prefer the variety that can be put on and taken off over the kind that sort of buries you.  Because over all, I'm relatively HAPPY, and like to stay that way...

Mistreating the Nice Guy



Since I don't look the part though (the Vixen-Tart), I have periodically attracted NICE guys. And here is where we get to my reminder...



I didn't really have a 'boy friend' in high school, per se—oh there were BOYS, and I went on dates, and there were the normal hanky-panky things, but the things that were emotionally serious, were NOT exclusive or monogamous. See, I was typically drawn to the BAD BOYS who didn't go in for that sort of thing.



Get to college and I met a very cute, very NICE boy who was interested in more, and it was a time when I was sort of craving something more committed. And it took, and we spent all our time together, and it was really pretty wonderful until my dark corners started demanding attention.  I'd learned some of my naughty lessons from those bad boys, and had internalized them...



Turns out if the PARTNER I choose isn't dark and dangerous, maybe I will make up for the fact. I wasn't very nice in the end... not admirable or worthy of someone who deserved to be treated better. That craving for drama? Oh yeah... I can create it.



I've mentioned I'm a collector, yes? If a person is ever in my life they are FOREVER in my life (including all of you--you know that, right?)—and it's true. At my wedding I had four exes of assorted seriousness. But until this week, this nice boy from college was the exception. He'd cut me off (and deservedly so). But this week, just when I was so irritated with Mr. Darkness, I got a friend request on facebook for the nice guy... reminding me conclusively why I NEEDED to be married to someone DARK. Because otherwise it would be me.







The Sane One



In my marriage there have been some lousy times (and some wonderful ones, but it is the lousy ones I'm writing about, as they are more pertinent to my point—yes, there's a point). I have sometimes wanted to fall apart—wanted to melt down or have fits. But you see, in a family, somebody has to be the SANE one. I've noticed, reading other people's blogs—hearing other people's stories, that SOMETIMES that sanity role falls on the kids and my heart goes out to those people—it isn't fair and is too heavy a burden. Thus far though, in my own life, I've managed to be the sane one.  Had I MARRIED the sane one, I might be the nut (or more likely the drunk)--whatever the case... it falls to me to create the BALANCE.







The Writing Outlet



I LOVE this idea in literature... sane people who suddenly have the leeway to fall apart... people who might otherwise fall apart but the situation demands they hold it together for a while... situational sanity interests me greatly.  As does the balance in a family... the character holding it together while things fall apart around her.



I also like that writing now affords me a channel for my darkness. I didn't used to have this on the same level (in fact with the college boyfriend I quit writing, as he wanted to READ everything and was very disturbed when the darkness showed), so I had to make up for it in LIFE, but NOW, I can just write the darkness. Not sure my hubby has gotten the message yet--that he no longer needs to be my darkness and can just be happy and nice now, but I see moments of sanity, so hopefully he will get there...

Race Relations

Sometimes I feel compelled to dive into it—I'm not sure if it is a self-destructive streak, but the honest answer is... I don't get it and I'd love to have some intelligent feedback. So here we have a mini-rant, with a real life question... Please read patiently, as I fumble a little and don't want you to take away something different than I mean.

My kids' elementary school had some press while I was gone. I had no clue until I got back, but when I heard my husband's version of details, it didn't surprise me overly much... you see, there was a scientist of some sort (possibly an astronaut) visiting the area, and a 'lunch bunch' was invited on this special field trip and nobody else got to go... fine... bonded group who has had an investment... I'm okay with that... but the fact of the matter is the scientist was Black and ONLY KIDS WHO WERE BLACK got to go (it is completely beyond me that this lunch bunch would be only black—this is NOT a segregated school, and only about 20% of the kids are black—I suspect they are an economically disadvantaged group and lunch bunch is a euphemism for a little extra school help—but the OTHER kids in this group did NOT get to go). My issue here is such a hard one to articulate, because I am a SERIOUS advocate for the fact that society has wronged MANY groups of people for a LONG time and we have some making up to do—I am an advocate of affirmative action and believe the supreme court got it WRONG when they said race couldn't be considered—a case at the University where I WORK, so I am VERY familiar.



But I ALSO am a social psychologist who knows if the selection criteria is strictly racial you open the doors to criticism of ALL SORTS, and among elementary school students who don't really understand the full social implications of history, all THEY GET is one group gets to do something and THEY don't. It creates a huge division—a chip on the shoulders of the excluded. These poor kids were 'booed' on returning from this field trip that was supposed to be a special treat. THAT is not the legacy you want from an 'opportunity'--resentment from classmates? No thanks.





Some Situational History



Now this is the principal who was VERY willing to paint my (blond, blue eyed) son a BULLY when another kid LIED about him. This principal is, I think, too ready to SEE racism in a place I just am not willing to buy it is happening. As fourth graders the fact that my son and his friends used the term gang for their 'gang of friends' HE too to mean... you know... GANG... holy CRAP, this is Ann Arbor, Michigan. REALITY NEVER COMES HERE. Among these kids with highly educated parents, it is JUST A FREAKING WORD. Both my kids have friends from several racial groups, and at the moment BOTH have black best friends (my son's has been for years the same boy, so I don't see it changing). The principal, when accusing my son, actually seemed surprised to hear this FRIEND was the group 'leader' (being a charismatic guy) but happens to also LIKE everyone, so he is not the one to ever exclude anyone. It is perhaps my son's status as this boy's best friend that caused the jealousy that led to the lies... My POINT though, is I think if my son had brown skin, the principal would have cut him a break. I think the principal WANTED to see Sam as the bad guy—real easy—tall, handsome, good-looking kid... but he is a kid who NEVER lies and is almost always nice and considerate (and a straight A student). Yes, he has a low tolerance for jackasses, but we think we've finally taught him to hold his tongue on the topic, and he only EVER said, 'you're annoying, go away'--nothing ruder. (something that when most of US were kids was the correction needed to change behavior of said annoying child)



I KNOW as a GROUP we need to ensure institutional racism doesn't happen (or rather, STOPS happening, because it's REAL)—I am SO FOR THAT I can't even get it across—sheesh-I study HEALTH disparities for a LIVING, but I feel like this INDIVIDUAL is going too far with INDIVIDUALS to counter stuff. Well I guess he got busted.



And on some level, it is too bad. It sounds like it was a good opportunity, but it also sounds like it could have been handled SO MUCH better—ALL the lunch bunch included... or maybe all the FREE LUNCH kids, then let others 'pay' to go, if they could and wanted to.



I GET wanting role models for Black kids—successful scientists are a fabulous form of that, but if you are trying to convince me that white kids don't need to see successful black role models, you don't get it. I really HOPE that isn't how they see it (though I suspect maybe the principal misses this point). Instead what they saw was a black principal offering only black kids this special trip. The lesson ALL these kids need is ANYONE can do ANYTHING. I grew up in the Stephen Hawking era, and if a quadriplegic man can do the things he did, THAT is inspirational... not that this other stuff isn't—it is... I'm just saying you don't have to be LIKE somebody to be inspired, and to get the message ANYBODY CAN achieve high standards.



So there we are... mini-rant over. What is the answer? How do we balance giving kids from disadvantaged homes a leg up without creating resentment from other kids? How do we both acknowledge our miserable racial history and move past it at the same time. I KNOW the playing field has not been leveled—it may NEVER be, but... in a place with little racism, should the rules be different than in places where it is rampant? Was this principal RIGHT and I am missing it because he mistreated my son?

Anyone out there address race in your writing? I would LOVE to hear about that. I try to not be completely white with my cast, but my familiarity... ability to be authentic, requires that be diversity that includes whites, as I just don't think I could accurately portray the interactions without reflecting my own experiences, which have always included a white person...



So maybe we should end with a nice, diverse group hug...

And on a completely different note: thirty years ago today Mt. St. Helen's blew... 



 [<--this is a before and after shot] 



they'd been saying it was going to and watching it for quite a while, so THAT wasn't terribly surprising. What WAS surprising was the direction of the wind and the warning that Moscow, Idaho, some 200 miles due east, was going to get some ash falling... and did we. School was canceled for the rest of the year. We had to wear masks for a while, and it was the STRANGEST stuff—so incredibly soft to run fingers over. I have a few pieces of pottery that have been glazed with ash and they're beautiful, but it was very surreal to have it get dark in the middle of the day and have that strange stuff falling from the sky. I guess compared to what Iceland is doing to Europe it's not so much, though I would argue the primary difference is in population density—the entire state of Idaho has maybe as many people as Cardiff... In fact it is so SPARSELY populated, that if you walk in the deep woods by the lake where my grandparents used to have a cabin, you can STILL kick up ash from under the fern leaves because nobody else has been there in the last 30 years.



So there you have it...