Thursday Thoughts

My writing class was suspended this week. We are on the Norwalk Public Library calendar even though we are meeting on Zoom. It's just as well because I didn't write much last week. I wasn't happy with my story last week. I tried for whimsical and failed. Our next assignment due next Monday is based on this photo.

I rejected my first idea and played around with a second. I think I wrote a few paragraphs on Wednesday, then finished a first draft on Monday. I like this story much better than last week's.

I'm halfway done with my collage/mixed media class. I'm really enjoying it. As I said before, I'm the least trained and experienced artist in the class, but I am learning new techniques, getting new ideas, and having fun. I used acrylic paint for the first time; it's nothing earth-shaking, but it is new for me.

I like (most of) the pieces I've worked on, and the instructor is encouraging and praising me. This week I painted an old cigar box I've had for years with cerulean blue--I need to paint one more side and the bottom to complete the paint job.  I'll look through clippings, photos, etc. to try to figure out my next steps.

Last night was the last session of the suffrage series. Overall, I'm disappointed. The first session was excellent. In the second, the speaker (same as the first) wasn't as focused. The third sessions featured two guest speakers who personally knew suffragist Alice Paul (who had been a Ridgefield resident at one time.) Both were interesting, The first had limited knowledge of Alice--she had met her as a 16-year old. The second speaker had more information but kept repeating the same things over and over. The last session was a discussion. It was supposed to be about the movie, Iron Jawed Angels, but that is currently only available on HBO Max. Instead the discussion was about various prejudices some of the participants faced as women. Again, it was interesting, but unfocused. Still worthwhile. 

Donna Parker Remembered

In August, I wrote about books I read as a child and teenager. I neglected to mention the Donna Parker series. I was reminded of her when I picked up my copy of Leaves of Grass the other night (so old it set me back $.75) and read "I Hear America Singing." It may be Donna Parker who first exposed me to Walt Whitman.

I read three of the seven books in the series: Donna Parker at Cherrydale, Donna Parker: A Spring to Remember, and Donna Parker in Hollywood. As with other books I read as a teenager, these books belonged to my sister. 

While I'm unsure if A Spring to Remember was my first exposure to Walt Whitman. I know that I first learned about the Hindu god Ganesh (or Ganesha) in Donna Parker in Hollywood. Ganesh is known as the remover of obstacles and patron of letters and learning during writing sessions. As I write this post, Ganesh sits on a table beside me. 

Evening at Taylor Farm

Friday was Jeff's birthday. We walked down the hill and had lunch at Sedona Tap House. Later we went to Taylor Farm for DPF. Our DPF's are winding down--maybe three or four more. 

 As we were getting ready to leave, someone mentioned how beautiful the sky looked. I took these photographs. 

Then, home for a dinner of penne a la vodka, per Jeff's request. 

More from Writing Women's Lives: Part Two

More passages.

Nikki Giovanni: 

        It's lonely. Writing. But so is practicing tennis or football runs. So is studying. So is waxing the floor and changing the baby. So is life. We are less lonely when we connect. Art is a connection. I like being a link. I hope the chain will hold. 

Dorothy Allison:

        One time, twice, once in a while again, I get it right. Once in a while, I can make the world I know real on a page. 

bell hooks:

        As I wrote, I felt that I was not as concerned with accuracy of detail as I was with evoking in writing the state of mind, the spirit of a particular moment.

Natalie Kusz:

        A song began with one voice--Mom's or Dad's opening out for two notes. By the third, the rest of us had it and added our parts, Mom switching to alto and taking me sometimes with her, the children's voices and the adults' mixing and widening out, a cappella. My father's head dipped side to side, like a swimmer leaning into his strokes, bellowing out tenor and baritone from the deep, ringing taverns of himself. Mom lifted up her face, taking in air, moving back into the melody, and from her we children learned our own sopranos, the true and unmuffled phrasings, the tones directed by breath and sustained until our very bones and their hollows resonated and increased with the joy of them.

Personal Archaeology

I believe that Julia Cameron used the term archaeology in The Artist's Way about finding things in your past that hampered your creativity. I also remember the concept of mining your journals. A few weeks ago, I wrote that I found a box of things to go to Goodwill. I also found a small duffel bag of notebooks. I had previously found a matching bag (both giveaways from an Arizona Diamondbacks/Atlanta Braves game that Jeff and I attended back in 1998) with stories and pieces of novels that I had written. I had skimmed through those notebooks, tossed a few, but kept those with things that I thought I could use. 

In the latest bag, I found some journals of morning pages, as well as notebooks from various retreats and courses. I found some old poems that I typed up (including Ode to a Nike Commercial or Why I Love Tom Glavine.) I also found some phrases in exercises that I used to write poems. One was: the arm around my waist became a chain.

I've gone through over half of the notebooks. Some, I tossed outright. Some, I threw away pages and now have smaller notebooks. I'll type up some poems or use found phrases to generate new poems.

A few things are consistent in my pages. There is never enough time. Which means I have to find, make the time. I also need other writers around me--retreats have inspired and supported me. I guess my class gives me some support. I need to find more.

This Week in the Time of Covid

Time has always been elastic. That's why we have expressions such as "time flies when you're having fun" and "a watched pot never boils."

Covid-19 has warped our nature of time more. Since I worked part-time with a sporadic schedule, I probably had the easier time adapting to sheltering at home than many. I also had reasons to go outside with Lola. When Jeff was working from home, I had a feeling of separation of the week from the weekend. 

But mostly everything is off-kilter. It's hard for me to believe that it will be October by the end of the week. Despite the string of hot, humid days, I feel that we've somehow missed the summer. I miss art shows, book sales, and concerts.

Even each week seems longer. It seems like months since my last writing class: it was Monday.

Melissa my sister-in-law recently said something along the lines that we only go one place a day rather than going to several different places. 

With that idea in mind, here is a summary of my past week.

Monday: writing class

Tuesday: grocery shopping and collage/mixed media class

Wednesday: laundry and virtual suffrage lecture

Thursday: made a double patch of vodka sauce for Jeff's birthday, painter/repairman came over to fix leak in living room ceiling

Friday: miscellaneous cleaning, get dessert for Jeff's birthday, dog park Friday.

Imagine all the other things I might have done.

Update: The Husky Puppy

The Animal Control Officer called me today to find out if I had any additional information about the puppy we found Sunday. She was in bad shape, and he was concerned there could be more puppies. Unfortunately, I couldn't help him.

She is 9-10 weeks old, infested with fleas, and suffering from two types of worms. She is currently being treated by a vet. 

The ACO thanked me for calling the police. I am thankful that Jeff saw her.

Although we don't know details, Lola clearly had a bad beginning to her life. I hope the puppy will end up with people who will love her as much as we love our Lola.