What does this have to do with trains? Nothing, except Baby Darling loves trains and we have added our number to the already zillion viewers for a Thomas the Train home U Tube video of a toy train going around a track. Simple, just set up a train, video it, put it on U-tube and get a million hits. There is a train named Chuggington, too, rather cute, and tells a better story than does Thomas. I even saw how they get a train back on the track after it has derailed.
Guess I should write about trains instead of Hawaii and struggle, and redemption, and how to live a happy life. Oh oh, I’m becoming cynical…
It’s my knee talking. I am hobbling, it’s fine when I am sitting here on my chair at the computer, but standing is excruciating. I think I am 16 years old sometimes by my actions. No I didn’t get on a horse—see, one can hurt themselves without a horse. I climbed into the back of the pickup truck to empty the garbage. You know that little pile of garbage that lands right in the middle of the truck bed? Well, I had such a one. I couldn’t reach it from the left side, nor from the right side, or from the tailgate, so I climbed in. Okay, that maneuver was executed just fine. It was jumping out that got me. I felt the twist of one knee when I landed, and for the last three days it has reminded me of how stupid I was.
Yesterday while working on my manuscript I teetered around 70,000 words. Good thing most written works have what is called a “Working Title.” Someone wondered if The Frog’s Song was a children’s book, so I don’t know about that title. Maybe I should call it Currents, or Beyond the Horizon, see I’m still undecided.
And so sitting there putting words in, words out, I would get up to 69,950, down to 69,650. Normally I wouldn’t be so obsessive regarding word count, but hitting a goal of 70,000 was a milestone I wanted to hit. I know Ray Bradbury, said, “A book is over when it’s over,” but since I have accepted the challenge of 85,000 challenge, that’s when it will be over. It will give an editor lots of leverage. One editor sent me this quote, "A poem [or literary work] is never finished, only abandoned." --Paul Valery
Ah well, you are probably tired of hearing me talk about this.
Poor Bear, Daughter Darling’s Newfoundland dog, had a seizure last night. After the seizure he was disoriented for about a minute then he popped up enthusiastic and excited. We don’t know what to think of his condition. Daughter Darling is taking him to the Veterinarian today.
I just rounded the corner by the bar and saw Darling Daughter’s mailings for the day—she must have had 100 envelops labeled and ready for shipment, and I bet she stayed up all night to do it. The mail lost a couple of packages so now, at night, she prints out every label with a tracking number on it. (Don’t know about this post office, losing something, and people get irate if they do not get their package.) On the plus side, her Legos are selling like hotcakes, and she is driving herself cuckoo trying to get up to her goal of 1000 listings on EBay. He hasn’t made the 1000 yet, and as she sells—Hurray, that is what she wants—her numbers slide down, and she plays catch up. It is so great that she has created a business for herself and can stay home with Baby Darling. The name of her store is Happy Bricks. The subject is Legos which is a trade name and cannot be used in the title.
This page is just over 500 words, so looks like 30 pages of this size would complete my manuscript. Guess I better get cracking.
Over and out for now.
Monday, October 31, 2011
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Reading and Restaurants
I’m down to the last couple of chapters and I don’t want it to end—not the book I’m writing, the one I am reading, Winter Solstice by Rosamunde Pilcher.
Think of a Scottish countryside, cold, snow, people who say, “Dear boy,” and “It’s lovely.” And they talk of a dram of bitters, and pounds, the snow on the grouse bushes. I couldn’t resist the book when on the first page a 62 year old woman goes into the pound and adopts a dog. After a tragic accident she, when asked, and being an impulsive former actress, accompanies a widower to an ancient Estate house in Scotland. Enter a broken hearted niece bringing with her a delightful child whose divorced mother and Grandmother, with whom they live, do not have time for. They have come to spend Christmas—an event the elder members of the household had decided to forgo that year. Enter a man, an executive who will be refurbishing the old woolen mill, who came simply to look at the house and became snowbound, was invited for Christmas, and entered into the family like an old friend. I love these characters, and the delight in which they prepare for Christmas, and heal, and bring new life to everyone involved. You see what’s coming and you can’t wait to get there. Oh it will set you for a splendid Christmas.
Last night we sought out an Italian restaurant in Murrieta. What a charming area—didn’t know about the old part of Murrieta, and the restaurant. The ad said they made all their own food, pasta, sausages, everything. It was like walking into another world, people hugged, and dressed up for dinner, there was a din of activity, and live music. And standing there at the entrance I was almost run over by the establishment throwing out man who had a guitar and thought he was going to play with the band. They were rather rough with him, swearing and telling him never to return, then apologizing to us for the row. I thought it was all rather colorful. A patron told me, the man had lived in the town all his life, and had been in a mental hospital. I felt sorry for him and wondered how much he was kicked around by people who saw him as crazy.
We waited an hour—Friday night, no reservation, the people were in no hurry to leave and I didn’t blame them. But we were starving, and left without dinner, but Anthony’s has been on my mind this morning and we will definitely go back. Baby Darling cried for a couple of miles saying “Go back.” I, too, wanted to be embraced into the old country.
Think of a Scottish countryside, cold, snow, people who say, “Dear boy,” and “It’s lovely.” And they talk of a dram of bitters, and pounds, the snow on the grouse bushes. I couldn’t resist the book when on the first page a 62 year old woman goes into the pound and adopts a dog. After a tragic accident she, when asked, and being an impulsive former actress, accompanies a widower to an ancient Estate house in Scotland. Enter a broken hearted niece bringing with her a delightful child whose divorced mother and Grandmother, with whom they live, do not have time for. They have come to spend Christmas—an event the elder members of the household had decided to forgo that year. Enter a man, an executive who will be refurbishing the old woolen mill, who came simply to look at the house and became snowbound, was invited for Christmas, and entered into the family like an old friend. I love these characters, and the delight in which they prepare for Christmas, and heal, and bring new life to everyone involved. You see what’s coming and you can’t wait to get there. Oh it will set you for a splendid Christmas.
Last night we sought out an Italian restaurant in Murrieta. What a charming area—didn’t know about the old part of Murrieta, and the restaurant. The ad said they made all their own food, pasta, sausages, everything. It was like walking into another world, people hugged, and dressed up for dinner, there was a din of activity, and live music. And standing there at the entrance I was almost run over by the establishment throwing out man who had a guitar and thought he was going to play with the band. They were rather rough with him, swearing and telling him never to return, then apologizing to us for the row. I thought it was all rather colorful. A patron told me, the man had lived in the town all his life, and had been in a mental hospital. I felt sorry for him and wondered how much he was kicked around by people who saw him as crazy.
We waited an hour—Friday night, no reservation, the people were in no hurry to leave and I didn’t blame them. But we were starving, and left without dinner, but Anthony’s has been on my mind this morning and we will definitely go back. Baby Darling cried for a couple of miles saying “Go back.” I, too, wanted to be embraced into the old country.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Ho'oponopono
My Hawaii book is up to 69,000 words. Sixteen thousand to go to reach the “sweet zone” of 85,000.
I just got a call from the owner of the property where we live. He is going to pull out the grapefruit trees and plant avocado. These trees are white grapefruits, people like the pink ones best, and the farmers are having trouble making any money with grapefruits, so out go the trees. I think, I hope, I pray, I convinced him to leave the grand old grandmother olive tree that sits in the middle of the orchard. Baby Darling loves it, as do we. Last year it was loaded with olives, Daughter number one took some home and marinated them in brine as one must do to make olives eatable. This year the tree produced no fruit. I’m wondering if it alternates every other year as some of our fruit trees used to do. The owner said he planned to take it out, but will leave it for us. Bless him.
Regarding my Hawaii book, and those 85,000 words, the agent who told me to bring it up sweet zone did me a favor. There was more to say, more to experience, and can you believe, after hearing me whine about the Island for the past two years, I now bless it? It took me a year to get to this place, but I finally got it.
This came about as a result of listening to Joe Vitale talking about Ho’oponopono, a Hawaiian healing process. Perhaps, I thought, I was looking at Hawaii the wrong way. Dr. Hew Len, Vitale’s mentor, spoke to a room (the actual room, not a room full of people) in which he and Vitale planned to hold a seminar. He asked the room, whose name was Shelia by the way, if it was all right to use her for the seminar. She said yes.
And then Dr. Hew Len saw that one of the chairs looked forlorn. He asked the chair what was wrong. The chair said that the last person to sit on it had financial problems, and he felt just dead.
Dr. Hew Len told the chair that the next person to sit on it would be uplifting. And the chair visually straightened.
Have I lost you yet?
Dr. Hew Len says to do Ho’oponopono healing is to say, “I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you.” This does not have to be directed to the person to whom you have a problem. It is saying to the universe, “I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you.” As one cleans themselves, so the outside world becomes cleaner as well.
So, I decided that Hawaii needed us as much as we needed her. She gave us the gift of direction. She gave us belief. She gave us creativity. Now it is our turn to let her know how much we appreciate her.
So now I run titles for the Hawaii book up down and around through my mind and ask anyone who will listen. I’m terrible with titles, but here are some that have rattled around:
The Frog’s Song
Swim at the Sheraton
Win
Running Between Raindrops
Life Beyond the Horizon
Talk Story
Choose again!
It’s Working!
Up Stream or Downstream?
“How in the Hell do I do That?”
Buried Treasure
Buried Treasure that’s today’s title—isn’t that what one is supposed to find on a tropical island? What do you think? Any suggestions?
Aloha.
I just got a call from the owner of the property where we live. He is going to pull out the grapefruit trees and plant avocado. These trees are white grapefruits, people like the pink ones best, and the farmers are having trouble making any money with grapefruits, so out go the trees. I think, I hope, I pray, I convinced him to leave the grand old grandmother olive tree that sits in the middle of the orchard. Baby Darling loves it, as do we. Last year it was loaded with olives, Daughter number one took some home and marinated them in brine as one must do to make olives eatable. This year the tree produced no fruit. I’m wondering if it alternates every other year as some of our fruit trees used to do. The owner said he planned to take it out, but will leave it for us. Bless him.
Regarding my Hawaii book, and those 85,000 words, the agent who told me to bring it up sweet zone did me a favor. There was more to say, more to experience, and can you believe, after hearing me whine about the Island for the past two years, I now bless it? It took me a year to get to this place, but I finally got it.
This came about as a result of listening to Joe Vitale talking about Ho’oponopono, a Hawaiian healing process. Perhaps, I thought, I was looking at Hawaii the wrong way. Dr. Hew Len, Vitale’s mentor, spoke to a room (the actual room, not a room full of people) in which he and Vitale planned to hold a seminar. He asked the room, whose name was Shelia by the way, if it was all right to use her for the seminar. She said yes.
And then Dr. Hew Len saw that one of the chairs looked forlorn. He asked the chair what was wrong. The chair said that the last person to sit on it had financial problems, and he felt just dead.
Dr. Hew Len told the chair that the next person to sit on it would be uplifting. And the chair visually straightened.
Have I lost you yet?
Dr. Hew Len says to do Ho’oponopono healing is to say, “I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you.” This does not have to be directed to the person to whom you have a problem. It is saying to the universe, “I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you. Thank you.” As one cleans themselves, so the outside world becomes cleaner as well.
So, I decided that Hawaii needed us as much as we needed her. She gave us the gift of direction. She gave us belief. She gave us creativity. Now it is our turn to let her know how much we appreciate her.
So now I run titles for the Hawaii book up down and around through my mind and ask anyone who will listen. I’m terrible with titles, but here are some that have rattled around:
The Frog’s Song
Swim at the Sheraton
Win
Running Between Raindrops
Life Beyond the Horizon
Talk Story
Choose again!
It’s Working!
Up Stream or Downstream?
“How in the Hell do I do That?”
Buried Treasure
Buried Treasure that’s today’s title—isn’t that what one is supposed to find on a tropical island? What do you think? Any suggestions?
Aloha.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)