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Thoughts on the Erma Bombeck Writers Workshop. Finally.
Two weeks ago today I left for the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop. It’s a bi-annual writing conference held at the University of Dayton – Erma’s alma mater – and yes, it was every bit as funny and sentimental as the grand dame herself was. Over three days there was much laughter, networking, conversation, learning, wine, and for me, introspection and self-discovery. I’m already counting the days until the next one. But first, I really needed to write something about THIS one. To say that I learned a lot would be an understatement. In fact, my brain hit content overload at about 2pm on Saturday afternoon, right about the same time…
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What Makes Me Happy
It’s been a long, cold winter, those of us not living in Florida would agree. Too many days cooped up inside. Bundling up to go outside, and dearly wishing we were inside. Frankly, it has gotten a bit depressing, this weather. But today when I woke up, something was just in the air. (Besides pollen. Lots of pollen. Gesundheit.) I don’t know what it was, but I just felt…. Happy. Was it the sunshine? The tulips fighting their way up, despite last week’s snow? The three-day weekend we have ahead of us? I’m not sure. But I do know what does make me happy: Squeezey hugs from my 8-year old.…
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What My Grandfather Said
My grandfather was not a church-goer. He was, however, a deeply spiritual man who would say “you don’t need to go to Church to talk to God – you can talk to him anywhere”. Which was good, because Papa Dan was more than a little hard of hearing in his later years, so I’m sure those conversations were pretty loud. “Well, hello, love” was his standard greeting. He was a sentimental fellow, the type who saved birthday cards and as such, you spent twice as much time picking out his as you did anyone else’s, because he let you know that he pulled out those old cards and…
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Currently
Reading: Splitting my attention between a few things, but I finished late last night Veronica Roth's “Divergent” – and moved on to “Insurgent” – on my Kindle, and I've been reading Erica Bauermeister's “The School of Essential Ingredients” in hardback. Despite how manic the summer has been, reading still remains my escape and my Kindle is fully loaded. Eating: fresh English strawberries, British sausages with sweet onion chutney, bacon and brie sandwiches – all the lovely things that just aren't the same in the US. Listening to: quite a bit of Shemeka Copeland – her strong, bluesy vocals have been great while I'm unpacking, alone, and I can…
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Reasons My Daughter Is Crying
One of the funniest Tumblr pages I’ve seen recently is Reasons My Son Is Crying. I can relate to the accurate and hilarious captions given to the photos of…well….the author’s crying son. Don’t judge me. They really are funny, perhaps due to the honesty of the shots — don’t our children totally lose their tops over the (seemingly) smallest of things? For example: She didn’t want her brother to hold her. She didn’t want to wear the butterfly costume. She didn’t want to have her picture taken. Again. She didn’t want to walk in this field. Cinderella didn’t wave back at her. * * * * * To be fair,…
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Someday
I have a lot of goals. Some are big. Some are small. Some are seemingly ridiculous but goals nonetheless (preferably by Thanksgiving….) Someday, I will tick them off my life list. Someday, I will figure out just how to carve a turkey without making it look like Freddy Krueger runs the kitchen. Someday I will lose those last twenty pounds (again) – for good. Someday, I will run a half-marathon. Run, not walk. And finish it. Someday I WILL unblock my blocked artistic side and not look at my sketchbook with fear of failure. Heck, maybe someday I won't be afraid of failing. Someday, I will illustrate a…
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Revisiting the Past: The Road Trip
Because I’m feeling lazy inspired by one of the prompts in this week’s Writers’ Workshop AND because I’m leaving on vacation early Sunday morning, feeling grateful that it is near impossible for us to do a 15 hour (one way) road trip here in Wales, I’m bringing you a post from July 2009. At the time, people questioned the wisdom of traveling cross-country alone with a 3 & 5-year-old, but since shortly after this trip I started flying overseas alone with said 3 & 5 year olds, I guess it was good practice. Oh, and Ox? She’s Boo’s favorite stuffy. ‘Cause traveling with a real ox would be silly. And…
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It’s Good To Be a Kid….
Some days, I don’t want to be the adult. I want to be the kid. Why, you ask? Let me tell you: ONE: Grocery Shopping As a kid, you ask mom if you can have something, and if you’re lucky, it magically appears in the cupboard/refrigerator (or you get to go with her to the store where you can try to sneak things into the cart). Now I know how all that food must get there, and it’s not so “magical”. *sighs* TWO: Cleaning toilets As a child, you might have to set the table, or take out the trash or make your bed, but my mom never made me…
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Independence Day
As one might imagine, here in the UK the “4th of July” is merely the day that follows the 3rd of July, a fact that still continues to mystify my children. Go figure. So while we would historically be watching a parade in our hometown and then heading to my Aunt Merrie’s for a party in her pool and maybe a drink or two….(gone are the days of Mom’s cousin Gary’s sideline-style drinks cooler of Long Island Iced Teas, thankyouverymuch, as I’ve got my kids with me now), we play it low-key now. Very low-key. Since it’s a work/school day for us here. Still, we gave it our best attempt.…
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On Childhood Rhymes, Beans and the Loss of Innocence
In very much the same way that applesauce is a vegetable at my parents’ house (in that it may make an appearance at nearly every meal, unlike an actual vegetable), baked beans are a common item at our evening meals, particularly since we have moved to the UK. It is a staple in my daughter’s diet (the reduced-sugar type as often as I can find it) as it is a decent source of protein for my mostly non-meat-eating girl. She really should be a spokesperson for Heinz. And of course, where you have bean-eaters, you have poetry rhymes: Beans, beans the musical fruit The more you eat, the more you…
