Techno-Baby

Sunday night our son sent us video clips of Darling Granddaughter, just in time for me to download them to show friends who came to wish Husband happy birthday. This morning my visiting teachers smiled at the clips and marveled at the technology that made them possible. I think it's pretty amazing, too . . . almost as amazing as little Paige Emilia herself.

The verdict is in . . .

Husband has finished reading my book. "It's good," he said. "I can't believe how you made up all these people and had them do things and say things to each other, and how you made up a whole story about them and how much you had to know, like horses, and medicine, and polygamy . . . "

I like to think that after 35 years I can still surprise him. And evidently I can.

Working in my PJs

I have many bad habits. Some mornings I get out of bed and head straight for the computer. I check my email and my blog and favorite websites. I answer email and post on others’ blogs or discussion pages. Then I’ll open the work in progress and begin to type or edit. When I look at the clock it’s noon. One of these days someone is going to ring the doorbell and I’m going to be horribly embarrassed. Until then, I’m afraid it’s going to be pajamas until noon. And morning hair. Well, writers are supposed to be eccentric, right?

Pressing Business

Spent the day working on my press kit - a two-pocket folder containing my press release, a printed interview, synopsis, bookmark and business card. And got 2 bound galleys with press kits ready to send to reviewers, 2 to a competition. 6 more press kits ready to go when I need them. Now I'm ready to kick back for a bit!

Fall Reading Challenge

Join the Fall Reading Challenge at callapidderdays.blogspot.com!

It begins September 23 and ends Dec. 21.

See my growing list of books on the right.

At the bookstore I put five dollars in the Angel Lady's jar. She takes my hand in hers, concentrating.

Has your father passed on? she asks.

I nod.

She closes her eyes.

I'm hearing a lot of voices, she tells me, but there's a man who's demanding to be heard above all the others. I'm thinking it's your father.

Yes, that would be my father.

He's so proud of you, he wants you to know he's hung a bright shining star right over your head.

Thanks, Dad. My own special star.

It makes me smile.

I see your Guardian Angels, the Angel Lady continues. Her hand is warm. Three of them, she ways. She looks at me again, her eyes glistening with a hint of tears. One's there to tell you to lighten up. And another to give you courage. And I see . . . someone dressed like a Spanish Conquistador. He's your protector.

I tell my sister about the Angel Lady and the Conquistador.

Well, she says, it sounds like Don Quixote, the Man of La Mancha, is looking out for you.

What a lovely thought: the idealistic, eccentric nobleman who saw the best in everyone is my very own Guardian Angel. Who can forget the people he touched with his simple faith in them, including the earthy woman he dubbed Dulcinea, his fair lady, a woman who then gathered her rags about her and held her head up, deciding to become what he believed she was?

I’d like to think he’s wearing my token, and my cause, next to his heart.

Maybe old Don Quixote thinks I can do the impossible. After all, The Knight of the Woeful Countenance defeated many windmills in his day. Perhaps he’s telling me not to give up. He’d be a formidable ally, with his faithful squire Sancho beside him.

Some days, at sunset, I think I see the two of them on the horizon, one as tall and thin and gangly as the other is portly and stocky, their rusty, dented armor clanking as they seek yet another quest.

And the darker the night grows, the brighter my star shines.




---In memory of my father, who would have been 85 years old today.

Guest Blog

I'm a guest blogger at Six LDS Writers and a Frog today. Thanks, Kerry, for letting me drop in! See link below.

Words to the Whys

WORDS TO THE WHYS

Ups and downs and ins and outs,

Forevers and nevers and whys.

Befores and afters, dos and don'ts.

Farewells and hellow and good-byes.

Lie is a string of perhapses.

A medley of whens and so whats.

We rise on our yeses and maybes.

Then fall on our nos and buts.

(Not that I would use that last word . . . JKJ)

From Woe Is I, The Grammaphobe's Guide to Better English in Plain English

by Patricia T. O'Conner.

I've been tagged!

Carole Thayne Warburton tagged me. She had to explain what it meant. You're supposed to take the letters your middle name and find words that apply to you. Well, my middle name has three letters so that shouldn't be too hard. First, I should explain that use my middle name, Kay, when I publish, because Janet Jensen is about as generic a name as you will find in these parts. And there are now four generations in my family who share my middle name. But before I work on the letters, I remember an assignment we had in 3rd grade. The teacher told us to write a poem about our name. Well, there isn't much that rhymes with Janet, so this was all I could do:

My name is Janet.
I live on a planet.

Now for Kay:

K: I like to think I'm a kind person. I've been known to rescue birds and puppies and I try to drive courteously. That means I'll pause and let people pull in front of me in heavy traffic. The looks on their faces when I wave them on is worth it.

A: I wish I were more assertive. And I'm not good at confrontations. So I keep it inside and that's not healthy.

Antiques. I like them. Some days I feel like one.

Author: Yes! I can finally claim that attribute.

Aggie! I am one. USU has been good to me. The first time I snuggled with my new granddaughter, I whispered in her ear, "Go, Aggies! Go, Aggies!" It's never too early to plan your college education.

Some A words I wish I could claim: athlete, artist, actress.

Y: Yes! is a word I use carefully. I WILL NOT participate in fund raising. I hate, hate, hate it, and I hate being pestered by fund raisers, even by PBS, which I love. So I'm very careful not to get roped into anything that requires asking other people for money. I've learned to think before I say yes.

Y is not a good letter to draw when you're playing Scrabble.

Rubbing the Funny Bone

Well, today I did it. I registered for the Erma Bombeck Humor Writers Workshop in Dayton Ohio April 3-5, 2008. It starts on my birthday, and since the darling new granddaughter lives in Dayton, it seemed the Right Thing To Do. I've heard that during the workshop you do more laughing than is healthy for you. Garrison Keillor is a keynote speaker, so it should start with plenty of laughs, chuckles, guffaws, giggles, snorts, sputters, etc.

Healing in a Bottle

After a major loss in my life, I attended a grieving class. One concept I learned is that it's normal to be forgetful and distracted when you've experienced grief, even when you're not thinking about your loss. And that gave me hope that sooner or later ordinary aspects of my life would settle down. And they did.

Then I happened to read a magazine article about a woman who gave her mother, "the woman who has everything" a unique gift. She took 365 small slips of paper and wrote memories of her mother on each. Then she put them in a pretty jar with a ribbon and presented it to her mother. "Read one each day," she told her mother, who promptly reached in, took out one slip, read it, and smiled. They reminisced about the event on the paper. Then, after the daughter left, the mother read each of the remaining 364 papers! She just couldn't ration herself to one a day, she enjoyed them so much.

I returned to my grieving class the next evening and one member said that her familiy was gathering in a couple of months to honor the life of her brother, who had taken his own life. They couldn't afford to do anything expensive or elaborate, but they wanted to do something significant that would bring them closer and help them heal. I thought of the "memory jar" in the magazine article, and told her about it.

Her face lit up. She said it was a great idea; she would ask family members to write favorite memories of her brother and bring them. They'd put them in a jar and take turns reading them. I later heard that it was a great success. They pulled the memories out of the jar and they laughed and they cried and they began to heal.

From simple ideas great things can happen. And in this case, I had the privilege of passing on a story, one that helped a family deal with their grief.

"Come on, dear!" and "Yes, Honey!"

We all know Them. Maybe you are one of Them. I'm talking about Take-Charge People (TCP). My favorite example is this scene: We are on a cruise ship, at port, and everyone wants to get off the ship at once. Major people jam in the stairways. Sister-in-law sees an opening in the crowd and says, "Come on, dear!" To our surprise (and delight, we we've relived this many times) about thirty men say "Yes, dear!" and line up obediently.

I have a Take-Charge Character in my soon-to-be-published novel, Don't You Marry the Mormon Boys. Her name is Miss Carolina and I love her dearly. When she walks into a room, people unconsciously straighten their neckties and sit up the way their mothers taught them, with proper posture. When she talks, people listen. And she says what's on her mind.Then she brews peppermint tea for them, as "sour stomachs" are common ailments in her experience.

Aunt Lucile from Denver was a TCP in our lives. Once we attended a play with her. She stepped up to the Will Call booth and got our tickets. "Come along now," she said briskly in her Teacher Voice (she taught junior high PE for many years), and when we reached the usher, we found that a line of people had assembled behind us, happy to be told what to do.

Husband of 35 years is now reading my book. I thought it might be a good idea if he at least knew what it was about. His favorite reading material is nonfiction but he agreed that it might be a good idea to read my novel one of these days, too, in case anyone asks him about it. He's just not one to join the Book Club, if you know what I mean. It's just not what he does. I should add that he's a terric support and I depend on him in many ways. Not to mention that he advises me on contracts, free of charge. And when I need a lawyer as a character, many of his qualities will show up. He's my Atticus Finch.

Propped up on pillows at bedtime, he methodically selects two chapters or so from the stack of loose pages, and quietly reads them, poker-faced (or, should I say, lawyer-faced)? When he finishes a page, he neatly stacks it on the previous one, face down, on his lap.

As he finishes Chapter One and places it on the floor beside the bed and turns out his lamp, I turn to him (dying for SOME reaction) and say, "Well?" and he says, "It's good." Then he rolls over and in 30 seconds commences to snore (in a gentlemanly, lawyerlike fashion).

Every night, as he reads, there is no comment. I'm used to lots of comments on my writing as I belong to a critique group and online writing groups, and we as writers love to give and receive comments. We need feedback. But he's a Lawyer and keeps his thoughts to himself, as a proper Lawyer should do. As a former Stake President should do. Sometimes he forgets to take off his Lawyer and Former Stake President hats at home. And maybe, as Husband, he doesn't want to hurt his wife's tender feelings.

Anyway, one night I ask him how much he has read so far.

"Chapter Nine."

"You'll have to give me a hint. I have no clue what happens in Chapter Nine." Chapters to me are just necessary breaks, and I don't think of my story in terms of numbered chapters. I learned the hard way that I should only number my chapters when my book is really, really done. Just ask my technical writer sister, who had to fix the numbering when I got out of sequence.

"He's just met the Healer," Husband says, and turns off his lamp.

"Does the Healer remind you of anyone?"

A pause.

"Aunt Lucile?

"Yes!"

Yahoo! He recognized her in my writing! Score one for all three of us (or should I say six?) - Author/Wife, Reader/Husband, and Miss Carolina,/Healer. I'll keep you posted.

Grammar/Punctuation Quiz

Try this quiz:

http://www.blogthings.com/theitsitstheretheirtheyrequiz

Upcoming Event in Logan sponsored by LUW

Thanks to Christopher Loke, President of the Cache Valley Chapter of the League of Utah Writers, for inviting me to speak and publicizing the event!

Funeral Organist fills in at last minute . . . Woman Moves Mountain . . . .

Rather a quiet weekend other than some hilarity at church. In Sacrament Meeting I was surprised to see the WFO (Ward Funeral Organist) playing instead of the WO (Ward Organist) or the AWO (Asistant Ward Organist, aka Miles Jensen). Seems Miles hadn't turned the calendar to September yet, so didn't remember he was supposed to play. And as he was late, and no one showed to play the prelude, they grabbed the FO . . . Miles didn't realize his goof until he walked in . . . and then in High Priests' Meeting they turned the lesson time over to a man who was totally surprised and unprepared, too . . .

Miles taught Sunday School and one of our senior members remarked that his older brother had died suddenly at age 91 while working in his pottery studio, and what a blessing it was that he could go so quickly, doing something he loved. And then he said, "I hope when it's my time, somebody will just shoot me!" and Miles said, "Well, Elliot, there are lot of people in this room who'd probably like to do that!" and everyone cracked up. Elliot is a well-known joker so he found it hilarious. Several people said they were more likely to attend Sunday School after that lesson, and nobody went to sleep. Many people are surprised to find that Miles is a very witty person, underneath all that solemn demeanor.

Miles' law firm is holding an open house on Wednesday for anyone who wants to tour the renovated old Logan Knitting Mill building. During the remodeling, (Miles was in charge) I was insistent that the old knitting machine be saved. It's about ten feet tall, and consists of black wrought iron spools and tongs and wheels and spindles. The designer didn't plan to use it, so I was going to find a home for it - a museum, or something! But it was worked into the final plan and looks great and so unique, and you can see it from the front window. All the attorneys' offices look very nice except for You-Know-Who's. He just didn't have the time or inclination, he said, to take care of his own office, but after a week of gentle persuasion on my part, we actually went to the office with a fig tree and hung 5 pictures on his walls. Now my walls at home are a bit empty but his office looks really nice.

Some days I really am remarkable :) and today, after the picture-hanging, I felt like I'd moved a mountain . . .

And now, speaking of mountains, I'm listening to the soundtrack from The Englishman Who Went Up a Hill and Came Down a Mountain. I think the music is appropriate as I had a productive writing day.