Twisting the Lens

Today as I sip my latte in Starbucks, I have to admit to being a little frazzled. Okay, maybe more than a little.

It all started on New Year’s Day, when I woke up with a migraine. Never a good thing on the dawning of a new year. It was symbolic, or perhaps a foreshadowing of things to come.  Things being a leaking fish tank on the lower level which caused several dominoes to fall, leading to a reno we weren’t going to do, and asbestos in our popcorn ceiling of the entire main floor of the house, leading to a reno similar to the one required by London Bridge.

I woke up in the dark tunnel of an overwhelming “to-do” list which is now competing with my Oxford Dictionary for length.  But then, in the midst of the darkness, something happened. I decided to twist the lens. To find a different view. A view that was more appealing than the weighty “to-do” list. What I found was a lot of happy pieces coming together like brightly coloured shards of glass forming a brilliant mosaic.

Here are a few of the happy pieces:

  • My presentations WILL get done despite the additions to the list.
  • My manuscript, while long overdue, is coming together nicely.
  • Next week  I get to speak at a convention and stay in a peaceful hotel, leaving the lengthy list behind at least until the week end.
  • The weather has turned suddenly spring-like and sunny, making the many errands much more enjoyable.
  • My daughter is very happy at school.
  • Nana is coming to babysit while I’m away.
  • My husband is taming his own “to-do” list for our “project”.
  • We will have a beautiful, like-new house when we are finished. (We will get finished some day – right???)

Sometimes when the view is dark, it just takes a little twist of the lens to improve the view.  ( Thanks to Kaleidoscope Literary Conference for the title).

 

 

 

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Tales of an Incompetent Tooth Fairy

 

Creative Commons - penyulap

When my son was growing up, the tooth fairy was extremely reliable. It was a simple routine. His tooth would fall out and that night he would place the tooth in the little ceramic dog dish attached to the little ceramic dog. In the morning he would find a looney in the special slot on the dog’s back. So cute. So much fun. And reliable like clockwork. Fast forward twenty years and well, what can I say, times have changed. My daughter has her big brother’s little ceramic dog, and a beautiful porcelain tooth fairy box. She also has a very incompetent tooth fairy.

My daughter is six. Here is her tooth fairy experience so far. When a tooth falls out, she puts it in the little ceramic doggy dish just like her big brother used to do. Sometimes in the morning the tooth is gone. Most of the time the tooth is still there. “Mom, the tooth is still in the dish and I can’t find any money.” Oh no. You’ve got to be kidding. I get out of bed, bleary-eye from staying up too late, working on my latest manuscript. “Isn’t that odd that the tooth fairy didn’t take your tooth, I say, my mind racing about how to make the money appear. “Go tell Daddy what happened.” While she is gone, the tooth fairy puts the requisite coinage in the tooth fairy box. Daddy, on the other hand, doesn’t get what’s happening and he has other ideas about the tooth fairy. He comes with her into the bedroom. “When I was a boy, the tooth fairy always left the money under the pillow. Let’s check.” Sure enough, she finds some money under the pillow. “Really? I say. I thought she was going to use Nana’s porcelain box.” My daughter checks there. More money!  Woo hoo, is she excited about the tooth fairy.

That was a few months ago. This week we had more tooth fairy issues. The morning began the same way, only this time my daughter checked under her pillow, in the porcelain box and in the doggy dish, all to no avail. “Oh, how strange,” I said. “Why doesn’t your tooth fairy ever take the tooth?” I opened the porcelain box and found a large silver coin stored in there from a previous tooth fairy gift. I dumped it out in my hand. Sure enough the new coin–a special quarter with a tooth fairy on it–was underneath.Gosh. When did the tooth fairy visits become so stressful? How many more teeth are left anyway?

The tooth fairy’s days are numbered. It is only a matter of time. I can only hope that one day my daughter will look back and laugh at why she got such an incompetent tooth fairy. Sigh!

 

The View Returns

I decided to get back to my original theme for this blog and that is The View from Starbucks. Sitting in Starbucks, surrounded by real-life stories, it seems a shame to let this material go to waste, or even to hog it all for myself. So, I have decided to pass on the daily drama to you.

Today, I’m going to tell a Starbucks story. This story took place just after Christmas one year. I had some time on my own to write, so I headed off to Starbucks, which is usually not as distracting as staying at home. Not so on this particular day.

I was entrenched in my writing, enjoying the ambiance and the grande non-fat latte, when a rather rough-looking fellow, “thirtyish”, sat down in the comfy chair beside me. It always makes me a little itcy when someone sits down close to me and drinks his coffee. I mean, you expect that in a coffee shop, right? But I mean when someone ONLY drinks his coffee. He doesn’t read the newspaper or a novel and he isn’t visiting with anyone. He’s just staring, straight ahead. I catch a glimpse of him in my peripheral vision and decide he is, at the very least, suffering from lack of sleep.  I sit at my computer, trying to pretend that he isn’t there, or that he is busy doing something, but still it is very distracting. This Starbucks is in Chapters so, why doesn’t he get a book or a magazine or something? All right, you aren’t really allowed to do that unless you pay for it. But still, the longer he just sits, close to me, without DOING something, the more uncomfortable I get. Now my condition has deteriorated from “itchy” to “twitchy” meaning that I may soon have to get up and move around, or find a new seat.

Then his phone rings.  Yay! He has a cell phone. Now he has a friend to talk to. That’s where the real story starts. It turns out that the fellow is from Thunder Bay. Interesting. My husband’s family is from Thunder Bay, so I wonder if they know each other. Not that I’m going to ask. That is one of my rules. I sometimes break it. But the rule is, no matter how interesting the conversation is. No matter how I want to add my two bits worth, I am not allowed to initiate conversation. Initiating is always a mistake. When spoken to, keep it short and polite, but NEVER do the initiating.

In a loud voice, he tells of the incredulous situation he found himself in that very morning. “You won’t believe this,” he begins. “But this morning I woke up to find…” this is where the very colourful language took over, so let me paraphrase. What the fellow found was a surprise guest who had apparently followed him home and spent the night. “I have no idea who he is,” he told his phone buddy. By now I have given up any attempt at writing. My concentration is completely shot. Instead, I switch to undercover note-taking. I know that truth is stranger than fiction, but really, this fellow is definitely a character. For a writer, he is rich material. And so I open a new document and scribble some details. Everything from the disheveled appearance (matted hair that sticks out like a scared porcupine and narrow eyes that look like they’re bleeding), to the hoarse voice that expresses a child-like wonder about the events as though he is merely an observer in his own life, and not a participant.

The story takes a tragic turn as he explains a horrendous event that   took him back to Thunder Bay for a funeral right before Christmas.  He was back in Calgary for Christmas and spent it with a girl he met, who invites him to her parents house for Christmas.Thoughtful of the girl. He has no idea where she is now.

And that was it. He got another call and switched to the new caller, beginning a new conversation.

I had so many questions about the story. Loose ends that needed connecting and some kind of an ending. But no. What I had was this slice of real-life drama.This glimpse through a tiny window of a stranger’s life.

I packed up my computer and went home to my cozy house where I found my husband and daughter waiting for me with warm hugs.How easy it is to sit in Starbucks and sip my latte, taking for granted the joys and comforts that make up my world. It has not always been this way for me, either. But that is another story. For now, I think I will pause to count my blessings.

Frustrating Friday

That’s my new theme for Friday. I know. I know. Not a very positive or encouraging way to face the weekend or life, for that matter.

Thursday was great. We all went to the musical “Two from Galilee”, a wonderful musical performed at First Alliance Church Calgary.  Superb talent and a beautiful retelling of the Christmas story. We all went to bed inspired and happy.

Friday morning dawned and in swept the darkness. After dotting all the ” i’s” and crossing all the “t’s”, we discovered that when you pay into long term disability for years and become unable to work, there is no guarantee that you will receive help.  Doctors may say that you can’t work, specialists may say you can’t work, but then, as it turns out, they don’t get the final word. Someone who is not a doctor, is still allowed to say. “I think you can work.”  Thus, the frustration.

This is the situation my family has been put in.

I’m sure by Tuesday, I’ll come up with a positive spin on life once again, but for now there is a lot of anger at our house. Anger at a system that has misled us and failed us miserably. Lots of anger.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bad Bunny Marble Loves the Christmas Season

Christmas at the Donovans

After falling behind in everything yesterday (bad migraine) I spent twenty minutes of valuable time this morning chasing Bad Bunny Marble out of the living room. The bunny gates are fairly easy to move apparently, now that Marble has discovered the joys of the Christmas season. A tree full of ornaments, many at just the right height for a bunny to tap and chew and sniff. Wow. And then at the base of the tree is a skirt with little strings all the way around it. What bunny could resist that? There would have been some cute pictures of Marble exploring if I wasn’t so busy trying to keep him from eating the tree skirt, chewing the cords and munching the ornaments. Bunnies are smarter than people give them credit for. He knows the exact spot in the back corner under the tree where I can’t reach him from either side. As usual, I tried to entice him out of the living room with treats. He came close, kicked up his heels with glee and took off. If I thought a little pumpkin cookie was better than exploring the Christmas decorations, well, I had another think coming. Next I tried the trusty water sprayer but there are so many things I did not want to spray with water, well, that didn’t work either. That’s when I noticed the roll of kraft paper in the dining room where I had been wrapping presents. Perfect. I chased him around the living room smacking his hind end with the paper roll until he got tired enough of this game and ran back into the safety of the family room. I fastened the bunny gates a little more securely and Marble went about the task of pretending to be a good bunny. He washed his face, he sat under his little willow tent. He chewed on his willow tent and pretended not to notice when I left the room.

Marble in willow tent. Good Bunny

Marble in his willow tent. Good Bunny.

 

Marble washing his face. Good Bunny.

That Bad Bunny Marble sure is cute! Sigh.

BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAD Friday

Have you ever had one of those days where everything goes wrong? Today was one of those days. I should have known even before I got out of bed that it was going to be one of those days. I should have known when I woke up in the midst of a dream (translate nightmare) where I was trying to deal with house renovations and contractors at the same time as I was supposed to be getting a classroom full of children ready for a field trip. Ay Carumba!

The day started off with me being late for parent/teacher conferences. There was no reason for being late, that’s what makes it really bad. Being late for a good reason is excusable, but being late because, well, because I didn’t think I was going to be late and then I was, is NOT acceptable.

That’s when the migraine kicked in.

After the PT interviews, I planned to make a quick trip to Costco (and yes that IS and oxymoron) to redo some work that was already done for a Christmas gift. BUT the Costco computer isn’t that interested in Christmas as it turns out and refused to cooperate again today. After I  dropped off my flashcard I had planned to work on my manuscript that was supposed to be finished in September and then for sure by the end of November…you get the picture. As a result of the scrooge Costco computer system, I ran out of time for any writing.

Discouraged and in a foul mood I went home instead, only to find that the rest of my family, who thought I was happily writing away, decided to go out for supper without me.

At home I looked up directions for tree cutting which we are NOT going to do and hotels for a New Year’s Eve event we are NOT going to participate in. More wasted time. Sigh.

I did manage to make some progress on my revisions but then, as I went to shut down my computer for the night, I realized that I forgot to write my Friday blog and its 11:44pm. Yikes!

Now that I have finished that rant, I will go to bed and sleep peacefully knowing that, on a day when these are the only things that have gone wrong, I must be a very lucky person. What if I had real problems to deal with?

Tomorrow is another day!

 

My Favourite Things

Accqumen

In Calgary, as in most of Canada, the winter is long. If you are going to spend it looking forward to summer weather, you’ll wish your life away. Now that we are fairly certain that winter is here to stay for the next few (okay, quite a few) months, I decided it would be a good time to think about what I like about winter.

The clean whiteness of the snow.

jilewis

Snowflakes at Night

Alpha

Hot Chocolate

Magellan

 Snow People

Loozrboy

Santa Claus Parade

It is just wrong to have this parade in warm climates!

Belard

Anyway, if the weather was never frightful, when would I find the cozy fire delightful?

Inspiration: Top Ten Authors

Wow. What a tough job. There are so many brilliant authors who have written wonderful books. The following list (in no particular order), are the authors I chose, painfully, for my Top Ten list. Thanks for the inspiration!
PS I know there are eleven, for those of you who are counting. But I really did try for ten!

1. LM Montgomery

2. Madeleine L’Engle

3. Eugenia Price

4. Carol Shields

5. Barbara Kingsolver

6. Jane Urquhart

7. Cornelia Funke

8. Shannon Hale

9. Kenneth Oppel

10. Sarah Dessen

10 + I know! I know! Francine Rivers

Writing: It’s a Love/Hate Thing

“I hate writing. I love having written.” Dorothy Parker

Prompted by a Twitter post this morning, I began to think about my relationship with my writing. It’s kind of a love/hate thing. I wouldn’t exactly call it writer’s block but when the Muse is on holidays and I’m tearing the hair from my scalp, I wonder why I write. On days when the Muse smiles on me and compelling characters appear to write their own story, it’s magical, and I feel brilliant to have qualified for her gifts. The quote I most closely identify with is the following one from Sol Stein. “Writers are people who cannot not write.” That’s me. For better or for worse, in brilliance and in boring, I cannot not write. And so, I write.

Check back at the end of the week for my Top Ten List

The Muse Returns: There’s Nothing Better

It’s Calgary. It’s November. The weather outside is, well, frightful. Despite the frozen landscape AND the fact that I seem to have lost “the kitchen sink” from my WordPress site, I must say that on this particular Friday, the View looks amazing. Inspired by the courageous souls who set out to write a 50,000 word novel in the month of November, I decided to set my own courageous goal. First a bit of background.

For the past year I have struggled with how to get my new (using the term loosely) historical fiction manuscript on track. The story felt forced, the scenes contrived and the characters wooden. Yikes! Panic set in as I tried to figure out what to do. The Muse was obviously enjoying a holiday elsewhere and I was left to my own pathetic devices, wondering if, in fact, this was a story at all. The history I chose to include was difficult to weave into the story. And yet, I felt passionate about the historical heroes and decided there MUST be a way to create a strong fictional protagonist in the midst.

So…for November, I decided if there are writers out there who can write an entire novel from scratch, surely I can rewrite my current manuscript into a compelling plot with compelling characters. The beginning (a very good place to start), was a big problem. It set the reader up for a disappointment as the story took a left turn soon after Chapter One. There were too many characters who weren’t moving the story forward. As much as I loved my description of the house and the face in the window, it was boring. There was no way I could continue writing the story until the beginning was right. Right, as it turns out, is not as simple as it sounds. But, a team of readers and several rewrites later I had the beginning I needed and FINALLY I was ready to move forward with the story. An interesting thing happened. The muse returned. As I wrote, more ideas popped into my head. Interesting connections between the characters began to occur and characters that I hadn’t realized were in the story, appeared as if by magic, once I got rid of the wooden ones. Now, the scenes move the story forward in a compelling way, rather than being forced into the mix. Every day now, I look forward to meeting with my characters to see what will happen next. When the muse is in motion, magic happens. Nothing is better. It’s why I write.