Speaking of Art ...

eFairy is sponsoring an art contest on her site.  I've seen lots of art on Xanga and I have to say that the entries in her contest make it extremely worth checking out.  Give the contestants encouragement they deserve by voting.  (And not that I would want to sway your opinion or anything but #16 ...) 

It's been a busy day in Indiana.  At least for me.  We are having one of those March rains with wind and heavy gray skies.  This means that my hair has gone totally wild.    Do you know what it's like trying to be a normal woman with wild hair?  You just might as well give up and adjust to the fact that the day is going to be a roller coaster. 

My cell phone quit working.  Not that this SHOULD be a cause for panic, but it was.  So I headed into town where the Radio Shack person took out the battery and put it back in.  That's all that was needed to reset the thing.    Good thing too, because if I had to miss out on my phone calls ... my hair wouldn't have been the only thing wild. 

Oh, Tucker came home with a note for misbehavior, Michael is presently using an empty pop bottle to torment the dog instead of doing his homework, and my red shoes didn't arrive today. 

I decided to try grooming the dog myself, and well, that was a mistake, okay.  I admit it, it was a big mistake.  I'm calling now to get her an appointment with a professional.  (Dog grooming is a lot harder than it looks like it should be.  )

So how are things in your world?

Accidental Art

I'm not sure if it's art, I just know I like it.  I like to play with my camera.  Sometimes I spend a great deal of time setting up a shot with just the right lighting, just the right composition.  I adjust the model, and take a second third ... tenth, until I get it just right.  Sometimes, accidents happen.  Last week we were at the zoo and I snapped a few (very few) shots of the kids.  When I reviewed the images later, I realized I had also taken one that I didn't intend.  I'm not sure why I like this one so much.  But I do.  So I'm sharing it with you.  What to you think?  Good one, bad one?  What makes it good or bad?  I'll go ahead and say I know that I like the light on my ring and the strands of hair in the bottom of the frame.  I'm not sure why I find it so interesting.  Is it because it's MY hand?  Or maybe it's because of the accidental nature of it all.  Anyway ... here's the photo.

*****

Tagline from an email my brother sent me:  Space is a dangerous place, especially if it's between your ears. 

A Writer Writes

Sometime back, I think in a book by Natalie Goldberg but don't sue me if I'm remembering wrongly, I read a passage about a student with an assignment to write about her hometown.  She went out and tried to write and couldn't think of anything to say.  So the instructor suggested that she narrow the topic to a single street in the town.  She still couldn't think of anything.  Then they narrowed it to a particular building.  Still no words would flow.  Finally, almost sarcastically, the instructor said, "Write about one brick in the face of that building ..."  The student was able to write a 2,000 word essay on that one brick. 

I've been stuck in my writing.  To say that it's going sluggishly would be to exaggerate my successes.  I have two cookbooks, one half formed poem, two short stories, and chapters of three different novels all sitting in the folder waiting for me to add those words, put flesh on their bones.  For some reason, when I get done with my daily writing time, I have almost as much white space left on the page as I did the day before.  The additional gray from erasure marks shouldn't count, but I'm beginning to be pleased that I've come up with enough bad sentences that the page is looking ragged. 

I am keeping up with my writing on two fronts, the best efforts have gone into correspondence.  I answer my mail, I answer my email.  Second, I have produced blogs.  I was surprised to realize that I actually posted 15 blogs that are at least semi-public during the month of February.  There are another half dozen private ones, but believe me no one wants to count that writing. 

It's possible that my focus is not narrow enough.  I need to think about the brick and the building instead of the whole town.  I certainly have enough life happening around me to provide inspiration.  Okay, enough whining about my writer's block.  How about I share with you the creative endeavors of my children?  Yesterday, I was listening to them do imagination play.  Michael, as usual, was a superhero and Tucker, as usual, was the designated Sidekick.

M: "Quickly, Sidekick, the bad guy is escaping to Ohio!"

T: "How do you know?"

M: "He dropped his map."

T: "I'm not picking it up, it's probably got bad guy germs ..."

(Later after they are presumably closing in on the bad guy in some unnamed City in Ohio)

M: "Isn't the City at sunset beautiful?"

T: "I think my weapon is beautiful."

M: "Come on Sidekick, look around at the lights, the colors, it's just almost romantic walking down this sidewalk."

T: "I think you need a weapon."

M: "I dont think you're listening, we are in a beautiful place!"

T: "Yeah, beautiful ... until we get our butts kicked."

Now why can't their Momi write like that?