Monthly Archives: October 2008

As many of you know, for the past year, we have had issues with raccoons in our yard, on our porch and in our attic. Well, we believe the attic problem to be solved. Raccoons are still, however, tearing apart our yard in search of food and leaving rather… personal… ‘gifts’ on our porch. 

And so, this year, while in search of a just-right pattern for our annual pumpkin carving night, I happened upon a photo on the web and knew it was THE one. I printed the photo to use as a template, and we did our carving last night. (see our pumpkin photo below)

I wish a happy and safe halloween to all my friends. May the good in you keep things cool while the ghoul in you plays unrestrained.

This week starts another exciting round of homeschooling activities. Last June, Daughter participated in a thrilling event called “The Archaeological Perspective“. During that week, the children unearthed actual treasures from Ancient China. Daughter was able to realize a dream – digging like a true archaeologist, handling ancient relics, understanding the significance of other items buried with them as well as the significance of various soil types in and around a certain area. She learned all about the Ch’in Dynasty and the magnificent Terracotta Soldiers from the period.

This year, this week in fact, she will do the same with Renaissance Italy. She will spend four days with homeschooling friends. She will get down and dirty – extra dirty today since it’s raining  – and she will handle more stunning and priceless objects from a time long, long ago. She’s excited and so am I.

But along with the hard work of digging, comes and extra large need to refuel. Food, water, fruit, snacks. All the good stuff. And so, for this week – yes all week because Daughter is hooked - lunch for my Archaeological Protégé  will be a nice slice of Zucchini Quiche. Of course, a large bottle of cool water, a crisp apple or juicy pear and a handful of almonds will accompany this lunch, but the prize for her is the Zucchini Quiche itself. Her favorite food next to Baked Ziti.

And, since it’s so easy, I will not only accommodate her tastes but also share the recipe with all of you (you’ll need Bisquick).

Enjoy!

Zucchini Quiche

Preheat oven to 350°

Ingredients:

3 cups sliced and diced zucchini

1 cup Bisquick Flour

2-3 eggs slightly beaten

2 tablespoons dried parsley

1 tablespoon dried oregano

1/4 teaspoon (or to taste) black pepper

1/2 cup chopped onion

3/4 cup cubed mozzarella cheese

1/3 cup vegetable oil

Additional 1/4 cup Bisquick separate

Directions:

Grease a casserole pan with cooking spray then lightly coat with the 1/4 cup Bisquick. This will form a light crust for the quiche.

Mix all other ingredients together. Pour into prepared casserole and bake about 35-40 minutes or until brown on top.

It’s hard for me to believe this, but the years we decided to homeschool have nearly come to an end.

Way back when Daughter was reaching school age, I’d looked into homeschooling. It wasn’t as common then as it is now. At least not here in NYC. Over the years, Daughter enjoyed her public school experience – mostly. Her elementary school was a community of wonderful teachers and terrific kids. Parents were involved as much as they could be and, except for the occasional frustration, those years went very well. So well, we were all sad for her to move on.

But move on she had to do and so came middle school. Horror of all horrors for us. It was a complete shock. First there was this wonderfully nurturing elementary school and then there was boot camp. That’s what it felt like even to me as a parent. I know children are expected to mature in middle school but in our zoned school, they forced them into ‘maturity’ in such as way as to be borderline abusive.

I researched homeschooling again and what I discovered was a rich and exciting world my daughter, myself and my husband would fall into quite happily. The number of homeschooled children in our area had multiplied ten-fold. There were organized activities, legal assistance/advice, secular and non-secular support groups and curriculum options galore.

We decided to homeschool through the middle school years and into the first year of high school. My opinion was by 10th grade, Daughter would have direction and focus, and I would have to be ready to let her soar and experience some independence. Those last few years of school, in my opinion, are great years for the child not prone to peer pressure. My child is not, I’m proud to say.

And so the search is on. We skipped 8th grade when Daughter found it too easy and went right on to 9th. That brings us to next September and 10th grade. The grade where Daughter is to return to school – by  choice and by design. She’s ready and eager and looking into her options. I’m excited for her. I know she’ll do well, but I’m also quite sad to let go. This process has been an amazing one. One about which I will forever be enthusiastic. One my daughter enjoyed to the fullest, and we as a family felt was natural and right for us. 

Almost as right as heading back to public school is right now.

Almost. But not quite.

I used to play The Sims. Loved it. I loved being in the virtual world where I could create characters and control their lives… kinda like writing fiction.

I always treated my Sims fairly and never purposely caused them distress. Once, however, things went terribly wrong. My Sim character had just stepped out of the shower and dressed. Now, I don’t know about you. but I can’t dress after a shower unless I’m completely dry. Completely dry. Apparently that’s not so for The Sims. He left the bathroom and entered the living room where a lightbulb had burned out. And so, assuming he was dry, I had him change that bulb. And he was electrocuted.

Zapped! Fried! Burned and reduced to ashes! This horrible crackling sound came from his virtual living room. I sat stunned, my arms tingling with shock the same as my character tingled and trembled with an electrical current coursing through his tiny computer-generated physique. He turned from a ‘live’ being to a glowing skeleton to a pile of dust to an urn. An URN! In seconds it was over. A life I’d created instantly snuffed out by the apparent incompatibility of virtual water and virtual electricity. It was awful. His Sims wife sobbed by his urn… 

…and I sat there staring at the screen, feeling sick to my stomach and wondering why I’d chosen to play that stupid, addictive game in the first place.

I killed a Sim.

But I was never arrested for murder.

A woman in Japan, however, was not so lucky.

She, apparently, enjoyed virtual games the same as I. Her first mistake, however, was not playing privately but rather joining an online virtual community. Her second mistake was letting her virtual character in that community marry another virtual character.

It seems, at some point, her virtual DH decided he was done with her. Without warning, she went to her happy virtual home only to learn her character was no longer a married woman but a divorcee!

Furious, she used some pillow talk against her V-DH. He’d told her his secrets. Shared private and personal information with her. What did he share? Well… the virtual world’s equivalent of a social security number.

He shared his username and password!

Perfectly bringing ‘life’ to the expression hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, she logged in as him, took control of his character – her ex – and killed him.  Killed. Him.

The gory details were not made public, but suffice it to say, HE was stunned when he logged on and discovered his character was dead.

The woman was arrested and held without bond.

In fairness, I have to say she wasn’t arrested for murder, she was arrested for identity theft. Still, I’m willing to bet neither of them will take another virtual mate any time soon.

What a strange, strange world we live in.

It’s 8AM. Do you know where your virtual identities are?

It’s taken a while, but I’m back on track with my story. I’ve been away from it for quite some time now. When I started this story, I was consumed. I’d sit each day and the words would simply fly from my fingers and onto the page. And then… nothing. When my writing quits like that, it usually means I’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere in the story. Weeks ago I thought I’d figured out where that wrong turn occurred. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

I have plotting tools – though I’m a pantser. I love these new-to-me tools – the W-Plot and the Storyboard. Problem is, as a pantser, I tend to grant my characters more freedom than my plotting tools allow. And so… three chapters ago, my heroine decided to break with plot and stay home while my hero paid a ransom. That was in Chapter 9. And that was my first big mistake.

Plotting is a funny thing for a pantser. Details and flow must be there, but not so much as to bludgeon the muse’s enthusiasm or bind the muse’s creative soul. However, the muse should not be allowed to flitter from one shiny and attractive idea to another. The muse must stay focused and dedicated. The muse must pick a theme and an emotion, and run with it in fresh though logical new directions. S/he must follow through to the end, stay excited through the long hard middle and feel that second wind effect as s/he nears the end. The muse must do all this while staying on track and being true to the characters – giving those characters real challenges, real changes, real chances. The muse must do all this in exciting and unexpected ways.

And so I’ve discussed this with my muse. The result? Quite simply, he’s not having it.

Yes, my muse is a he and his name is Freddie (Beth? Care to guess “Freddie” who?   ) 

He’s a stubborn one who tends to ramble. But he’s talented and compelling, and if I really listen and steer clear of  the asides, I see there’s interesting logic in the ideas he has. My job as writer is to skim off the froth and dig into the hearty brew beneath.

The idea is an exciting one. The actual process… not so much.

I have hard copy of my chapters now and will use this new approach to revising - editing on paper not computer. Literally cutting and pasting this story back together to make it one both my muse and I can be proud of.

Pssst… btw… I placed 4th in the Black Diamond Synopsis Contest. 4th. Not 1st, 2nd or 3rd, but… hey. I placed, yes?

Wouldn’t that be a lovely thing?

Imagine a presidential competition where neither side attacks the other but rather touts their own visions, abilities and history. The media, I believe, is well equipped to fact check it all so why not take the high road? Why not start and follow through with a campaign that can empower the American people? One that can unite us, one that will allow us to disagree without fury.

Sure, there are things about each candidate that we should know. Those things make up their character. They tell us who they were yesterday and who they might be tomorrow.

Take McCain’s oblivion to his wife’s prescription medication addiction. She suffered and he had no clue. That tells me a lot about who he is and what really matters to him. HE matters to him.

But what about Obama’s connection to Bill Ayers? Ayers’ actions were despicable. The idea that he remains unrepentant is worse. I have trouble understanding how a radical such as he is permitted to teach in a university. But does serving on the same board as this man constitute “palling around”? And what of Obama’s worship at Jeremiah Wright’s church for 20 years? Was there no other church the Obama family could have joined? No way for them to denounce the anti-American rants BEFORE they were brought to Youtube and the world? No matter how it’s spun, that tidbit is disturbing. 

We’ll never see the perfect candidate. We’ll never see a list of qualifications that meet with our hope and expectations. We should demand and receive a certain amount of disclosure, but when the gatherers at one camp shout “terrorist” and “kill him”, I’d say it’s clear we’ve crossed the line.

I fear for this country. The anger stoked by each campaign is fueled not only by their misleading and exaggerated comments but also by the state of the union itself. And somehow, the state of the union seems to have fallen the way of eloquent speeches and desperate rants. We want and deserve more than that. We want action not words. We deserve hope not fear.

Lets hope the American people wise up and unite. The last thing this country needs is more fighting from within. If we’re going to claw our way out of this economy, if we’re going to reconnect with our friends and allies around the world, and if we’re going to earn back some American pride, it has to start with us as individuals, as Americans, as good sports not sore losers or arrogant winners.

In this global climate, almost any new direction can be a good one. Let’s see it that way and work toward rebuilding ourselves and our country by taking the high road ourselves. Maybe, just maybe, the candidates will follow our lead.

Now, wouldn’t that be a lovely thing?

Hello from Colorado! Still no elk or deer sightings.

Yesterday was my grandmother’s 94th birthday. Ninety-fourth!! One of the cards she received was musical and played the birthday song. She must have opened and closed and opened that card 100 times. She was like a little kid with a new toy.  

Yesterday was also the first day my mom actually looked better – the week hadn’t been too good for her. However, when she corrected the way I made the coffee… …I knew she didn’t just look better, she also felt better. Yay!

Right now, the majority of her blood work looks “phenomenal” according to the medical assistant. We’re thrilled about that but the chemo has destroyed a large portion of her immune system. They worry when the results are at .5%. My mother’s are at .9% so they are keeping a watchful eye on her.

This Tuesday she’ll have a 7-hour office visit where she’ll receive immune globulin to help boost her immune system. It’s a risky thing because the possible complications from that include anaphylactic shock and coma. Yeah… you read that right. However, she’s already had this once before (with a benadryl drip and hovering medical team) so we’re not as concerned about it this time. Until then, she has to be extremely careful to avoid infection. With luck, thetreatment should balance things out to a safe level for her. And then it all starts again.

That’s the funny thing about chemo. It kills the cancer cells, which is what we want, but it also kills healthy cells. It can’t distinguish between the two. Chemo is tough but it ain’t that smart. Still, it’s good to have this since without it… well… I won’t even consider that.

Daughter has been a trooper and Hubby is having a blast as a bachelor. :-D The cats, I’m told are doing well, though they tend to sit at the top of the stairs looking down. Waiting for Daughter and me, perhaps? Well, we’ll be home soon enough and we’ll cuddle them until they can’t stand it anymore.

One month down and five to go. Here’s hoping things continue to improve from now until then and beyond.

And here’s hoping some deer or elk come out of hiding so I can catch a glimpse of them before we leave.

I’m sorry I haven’t been a good blog neighbor by stopping by daily. Things have been busy here this week but I will be making my rounds once I’m back home. PROMISE.

This post will be brief as time seems to be running in fast-forward X16…

So far so good with my mom’s chemo. She has responded precisely as the doctors had hoped. The side-effects, so far, are minimal and we’re hoping, of course, they stay that way. We were told Chemo effects occur the week after chemo so Daughter and I are heading out to Colorado this week. We’re out of here by 4:30 tomorrow morning.

I’m taking my WIP notes and completed chapters. If my mom’s up to it, maybe we’ll brainstorm like we used to.

This is the first time hubby and I will be apart – except for those post C-section days for me in the hospital. My concern is more for my cats than him. Will he remember to feed them? To change their water and play with them? Of course he will. I know this but have to find something to ‘worry’ about.

I’ve cooked a bunch of stuff for him to eat while we’re gone, and I bought plenty of things for him to pick on if he gets the munchies. He works tons of hours so I doubt we’ll be missed THAT much – maybe when he wants a fresh pot of coffee or to know where something is.

I’ve a feeling, though, that when we get back, he’ll be kinda happy to see us.

 Today is one of our fundraising events for the shelter. These precious kitties need as much as we can give them since we run solely on private donations and volunteer energy. The group has been working tirelessly for a month to get this together and I think it’s going to be great. All the Yard Sale info for today is on our website – A.C.T. 

In other busy news… Some of you might remember I was fostering an adorable kitten that was dumped at the shelter.

She was terrified at first and hid under my sofa for the first two days I had her. After that, she inched her way closer to us and to my other cats. She made our home hers. She traveled from bowl to bowl taking a taste of the other cats’ food, she tried out each and every cat bed, played with all the toys and otherwise took over the house.

Two of my own kitties, Lady and Dobby, wanted nothing to do with her.

Fidget was the one who snuggled with her and did the ‘mommy thing’ by grooming her head to toe.

[youtube="http://www.youtube.com/v/O5pA-_v_Kyk&hl=en]

He’s not a mommy but… hey. That’s the animal world for ya.

And then there’s Ansel. The papa of the group. He’s my biggest and eldest baby. He was as terrified of her as she was of us when she’d first arrived. Naturally, when it was time for her to go to her permanent home, he’d finally warmed up to her. (Don’t let the eyes fool you, he IS happy she’s sleeping next to him. Really.)

Letting this little one go was brutally painful. As tiny as she is, she filled our home and our hearts. I know she’s with a great family now and she’ll adjust – probably sooner than I will. She needed to learn how to fit in and get along. And she did. I need to learn how to say goodbye without falling apart. And I didn’t.

How many cell phones have you had since cell phones became the rage? I’ve had two. My first was a “Tandy” from Radio Shack and was the size of a Korean War era walkie. Huge by today’s standards. I owned it about 15 years ago. Not really THAT long.

I now have my first real cell phone, while hubby is on his fourth.  What have we done with all of the old phones? Piled them in a box that’s stored in the garage. How silly is that? Will we ever use them again? Will I ever take out my old Tandy and stroll around with it in public? Not likely. We could simply toss them all but that wouldn’t be wise since another option is so much more logical.

We can donate them. And so can you.

Who couldn’t benefit from a phone these days? I think of my 94 year old grandmother at home alone during the hours my mom endures chemotherapy. I think of the latchkey kid walking home from school during the winter months when darkness comes so early. I think of all the people who did without before who could truly benefit from a phone now. But I hadn’t thought of a specific group of people who could use a phone the most.

Domestic abuse victims.

Secure the Call is a national non-profit organization that takes used and unwanted cell phones and distributes them to those most in need – like those victims of domestic abuse.

You don’t have to worry about data on your phone. You can wipe it clean of contacts before you donate it. But… Secure the Call reprograms every phone they receive and then they convert it into a free 911 phone. Those free 911 phones will then be sent to local communities around the country. Women’s shelters receive them. Senior Citizen centers. Police offices. Secure the Call will even pay for you to ship your phone to them so you don’t have to lay out a dime. OR… you could help save them some much-needed funds and pay for the shipping yourself.

We’ll be sending all of our old phones to them. We’ll also be placing a phone collection box in our office so people who stop in will be made aware of Secure the Call’s program and, hopefully, drop-off their old phones for this very worth while cause.