On Vacation

This is mah seeestah. As you can see we're practically twins. Her and her offspring are keeping me too busy to blog regularly this week, so I'll have to catch you all up when I can. In the mean time we've been:

--plotting our spa vacation for two (the one we've spoken of in hushed tones for five years, and neither of us has money to plan-- yet)

--making faces in the mirror to determine the exact origin of our newly forming wrinkles (mine all seem to stem from this one face I make that is kind of a sneering smirk-- the "Oh, yeah-- I'm really sure" face-- quite attractive--and easily confused with my "you are such a dumb-ass" face.)

--and basically laughing our butts off-- and shopping.

Enjoy your New Years-- get loaded responsibly!

More holiday Hijinks

Here's my salute to Edgar Allen Poe Christmas card display. What could be more holiday-ish than a raven by a giant clock and some weird tribal sculpture right? Ask not for whom the bell tolls-- ding-dong-ding-dong, fa-la-la.

Sis and the kidlin's hit town yesterday. 4 year old Jaden is adorable as ever and was primed and ready for some gift opening action.

I let him borrow my camera for a few minutes. Last summer I let my protege/niece Megan use it and she was really into it. I think it's good for kids to get their creative mojo on as early as possible. This was the pic he took of me.

And this is my Dad. hey-- you've got to learn right? it's kind of funny really-- that probably is how a 4 y/o sees adults sometimes-- "bla'bla-bla".

Here's Meg with the gift me and Dan got her-- her very own digital camera. Can't wait to see how her pix turn out.

This was the funniest gift. Sis found these and knew they'd be perfect for "uncle dan", because they match Jaden's-- they can be twins! woo-hoo! Never one to shy away from potentially embarrassing costume scenarios-- Dan instantly changed into his gift. I was laughing so hard I had major face ache-- until---

Here's me and my "NO WAY" face...

Yep-- I got a pair too! Now we're one big aunt and uncle-y and kid mash-up of footie, fuzzy cosy-osity!
Second Funniest Christmas Moment?-- When Grandma opened her card and read, "Your gift from us is a massage..." and Dan got up and walked over to her and began giving her a should rub and said, "Just relax Vera, I've been practicing. This is just a preview-- The real massage will be later."

Grandma's jaw was hanging all the way open-- and then we laughed and laughed.

I got a couple of pretty funny cards & letters, but I'll put them up later. Today it's a run or ski first thing with Trusty Pam, then some new shop arranging, then rough-housing in the snow with the kiddies.

Hope your holidays are going great--- Oh almost forgot about the Christmas miracle!-- My ipod started working again! We decided Dan's pocket is magic because it decided to work again after being carried around in his pocket for a few hours. Apple will probably want him to go work for them as a "genius now"-- or possibly try to kidnap him and steal his pocket of Mac healing. More later. Cheers.

Weird Wed- Christmas Edition

What- for the love of God- is this monstrosity? Some kind of Ed Gein Santa get-up? My Aunt sent me this awesome pic from back in the day of this thing in action -- but it wouldn't load. (boo technology fails) Some poor little girl was screaming and flailing around on someone's lap actually wearing this outfit-- or-- skin-suit!-- In other words, trying to escape from psychotic killer Santa-- I'd imagine she's still in therapy, all these many years later.

This Santa just looks cantankerous and possibly alcoholic-- the disheveled appearance, puffy face, small, close-set, piggy eyes, paper bag he seems to be holding-- all signs.

Ok, nothing disturbing about these. Just some cool old-timey toys. Merry Christmas.

Ok, this isn't strictly holiday fare, but their garlandy decoration got into the shot, so-- Oh wells- plus, guy (who seems to be a zombie--eyes) is wearing red shirt. I'm calling this painting, "Zombie v.s. Bear Wild River Smackdown."

Someone really went all Tim Burton on their little festive stocking project here. Approved!

This is probably totally normal seeming to most people, but to me it kind of looks like some kind of creepy "tree of the dead."

Hope everyone has a safe, relatively sane, and happy-- or at the very least tolerable Christmas.
Fa-la-la.

Unsilent Night

Unsilent night is a boom box parade that occurs nation-wide in December every year. The idea is a spin off of caroling. People stroll through their various cities ensconced in a bubble of haunting, ethereal, wordless, peaceful, music. The four distinct compositions, played on dozens of boom boxes, merge and flow around each other as the group moves along. I've heard the effect is completely mesmerising. The events are held in a number of cities. There's even one in Toronto.

Check out their site for more info. Sadly, I wasn't on top of this enough this year. I think all the scheduled dates are past, but the music is available to download (purchase) and you could always round up some pals and hold your own parade.

This idea is so cool! Twin cities-- where are you? Step up man!

Tomorrow for Weird Wed I'll have some bad Santa's for you, but after that posts will become infrequent. Sis and the kiddies hit town and I've got a lot of rough-housing and corrupting to catch-up on.

If you miss me-- I'll be tweeting on Twitter, because, basically, I can't stop myself. If you don't know what I'm talking about go to the upper right of my actual blog and click. Better yet-- join up yourself and we can keep up with each other.

"Reportedly, She's Doing Some Kind Of Artwork Now..."

That was the buzz when I quit Perfectly-Good-Day-Job about eleven years ago to go to welding school, then secluded myself away in my lair and refused to show anyone anything I was working on for nearly a year.

There's been a bit of a repeat performance regarding my writing. I haven't shared it with any of my friends or family. I haven't wanted to talk about my stories, which are predominantly about teenagers, and pretty dark, and maybe even weird. I've felt a bit isolated about it, even if it has been self-imposed. Now I've learned there is a name for this kind of writing called YA (Young Adult) and it's not only widely read by adults as well as teens, but also can be very literary.

Now I'm feeling more secure about sharing my writing--which I have been working quite hard at for several years now. It feels more ready than before. My first beta (test reader other than my crit partner) is in her fifties. When she picked up my novel for a quick scan, she got well into chapter 4 before she put it down. That gratified me to no end. This person has very sophisticated, adult taste, and she is really enjoying my story. (insert big goofy grin)

When this article appeared last week it ignited a firestorm of protest within the writing community. Read this excellent post for one author's very thoughtful reaction. Most people I know, don't know what YA is-- don't know, in fact, what any genre is because they aren't writers. For those of you who don't, I sympathize. It is confusing. Those books in that other section of the book store-- you feel a little dumb even going into that section don't you-- like venturing into the Jr. department with all the low-rise skinny jeans? Get past it-- it's just marketing. It's much bigger than Harry Potter and Twilight and not all of it is kiddie fare.

Why "Joy School" or "Durable Goods" by Elizabeth Berg or "Glory goes and Gets Some" by Emily Carter, or "Our Sometime Sister" by Norah Labiner or even, maybe, "The Little Friend" by Donna Tartt are exclusively "adult" makes little sense when you take a really good look at what's over in YA. It isn't based on quality of writing-- as evidenced by Don Delillo being shelved in the same section as Candace Bushnell? What the--?

Actually, the jeans metaphor works pretty well for this. Some are "mom jeans", some are definitely "kid jeans", but some, like levi's, are universal. The industry knows kids will buy the most jeans- so they want to market to them. They stuff their section with kid, as well as other more universal styles that seem "cool enough". Stores selling jeans have caught on that it behooves them to stock levi's in both the jr. and misses departments. Catch-up publishing.

One thing I love about this category, that seems to define it really, besides young main characters-- is the immediacy of the writing. Also, some of the more edgy aspects of my writing that I was concerned would be off-putting to an exclusively adult audience seem quite welcome in this genre. I've always felt a special affection for teens, especially those on the fringe girls-- the ones that everyone wonders "what happened-- they used to be so nice." They need someone in their corner. I very much like the idea of smart, literary YA.

Can any of you think of any books you've read that may be "undercover" YA reads?

Brrr

OK people-- it's -35 below zero outside today with the wind. Who ON EARTH would want to go out in this kind of weather?-- Oh-- Dan. He's gotten it into his head he wants to move some stuff into my new shop. Like any sane person, I'm opposed to this idea. His last comment before leaving the house-- "I will not be a prisoner in my own home!"

Yes, we laughed and laughed, and then he went outside anyway.

The cats attempted a not very hostile, actually pretty sleepy take-over of my office earlier. They've been relocated to make room for my butt.

The other day these guys came to visit.

(Dan just came in. When I teased him about being cold he threatened to change into shorts. Yeah. He put on a full face mask and went out again. Now, being a guy, he can't come in for at least an hour or I win.)

Anyway-- They ate some of my shrubs. That kind of sucks, but a deer's gotta make a living too.

So cute. How could I mind? I am so bummed I missed the pic of them on my deck looking in my patio doors. I swear if I'd opened the door they'd have walked right into the kitchen.

In other wintry news-- fell asleep the other night with a piece of Dove foil wrapped chocolate in bed with me. Yeah. Not pretty. Let's just say if I ever again in my life see sheets that look like that, they better smell as chocolaty good as those did.

I'm very surprised it didn't give me dreams about making out with the cookies I've been obsessing over daily-- and by daily I mean several times a day-- peanut blossoms (those peanut butter ones with a Hershey's kiss in the middle.) I have resisted the urge to make them, because I'd have to eat a bunch of them, then I'd have to eat the rest to destroy the evidence of how many I ate to begin with. The freezing cold temps are already making me fat enough-- removing running from the equation. AssFat keeps following me around snickering and smirking, plus, getting very stir crazy.

The Dove-plosion did give me a genius idea for Christmas dinner though-- every year I make chocolate fondue for dessert. This year-- 3 flavors-- regular, extra dark, and Mexican!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Ahhhhh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry, had a moment there. Dan's reaction to "The Incident"-- "God, that's like something that would happen to some fat person on Biggest Loser or something!"

Me-- "You would do well to think back to your youth, when you were like, 15. Remember how remote the possibility seemed you would ever be in the immediate vicinity of a half-naked woman? Yeah-- and now you have one of your very own, right under your roof... Might not want to blow your all access pass."

Yeah. That's what I thought.
Stay warm people.

Christmastime In My Little Town

The other night I asked Dan to drive me around so we could look at people's Christmas lights. As much as I've complained that the season has been getting to me, there are times when even I cannot resist its charms entirely.

This is something affectionately referred to as "The Pit". It's the old football stadium next to what used to be the high school. It is actually a giant pit, with stone bleachers on either side and a little stone field house that is now used as a warming house. Every winter the city floods it and it becomes this.

The old high school is now kind of a multi purpose municipal building housing community ed
etc, but it still looks totally "Rydell High" and you can easily picture poodle skirts and greasers all over the front sidewalk. The second floor is supposedly haunted by an old custodian. I've seen a picture of the ghost. Pretty irrefutable looking.

It was only in the single digits this night-- if that, yet people were out. Little travelling hockey scrums of 2, 3, 4 people whirling around the ice-- and not all guys if you look close. Go chix w/ sticks!

There is something kind of romantic about Christmas lights in a way. I always argue that women are the only ones who care about holiday traditions, and sometimes get caught up in criticizing the way some women seem to get so determined to force it- trying to manufacture some meaningful holiday magicalness-- that all it does is drive their family nuts and make them look like they need to get a life.

I think I'm partially right-- it is women who drive the traditions and rituals bus, but exterior lights are almost always put up by the men. (Sorry to go all gender role on you, but in my part of the world that's still how it rolls) Part of me has to agree with my Mom- (That's right Mom, go print this out and frame it) -- While they may drag their feet and grouse around about it, men like the resulting effect of all this- of feeling connected to a home- not just a house. We all like that.

That's where the point of pride thing comes in, (also exhibited by insane lawn obsession in summer). It can be silly and taken to extremes, and, as in most human things, there exists an unattractive underbelly of vanity, but it attaches us to where we live, makes it mean more than a roof over our head.

And the lights are a way of marking the year. Look, something different is happening right now, and we're a part of it. (Even if you insist on being apart from it- sorry man, you're still part of it, because it's there and you're reacting. Cross your arms and frown all you want.) For many people this has an overarching religious celebration attached, but it has become broader than that.

Non-religious people find comfort, sometimes grudgingly, in memories, and a sense of community too.

Weirdly, it sometimes reminds me of the frog-storm scene in "Magnolia"-- "Look, this unusual event is happening everywhere at once and we're all here experiencing it in our own scattered about way, together."

My mom insists you get more out of all this if you are religious (out of everything really), and I relate even though I don't completely share her beliefs. (No, I'm not an atheist, I'm just not really anything with a name.) I feel the same about people who don't like animals. They are so missing out!

All the things I really dislike about this time of year-- the commercialism, the pressure to adhere to traditions, the obligations, bell ringers, guilt, people who donate to "toys for tots" and insist their big dumb faces get televised doing so-- can all be overshadowed by just a few really meaningful experiences.

Driving around with Dan the other night was one of them.

I'd say, "Oh, this one-- stop. Stop! You're not stopping!" Him- "Oh settle down. I am too. There, see?" As usual he hadn't stopped exactly where I'd wanted him to but a rebellious five or six feet farther down. Thin ice man. That guy is a total loose cannon.

Once I said, "Oh-- I so have to shoot this one." and he kept going. "Stop! Where are you going?" "Well, you had your sarcastic voice on so I thought you were kidding. " (Admittedly, sarcastic voice is so prevalent it is often just "my voice".) I opened my door and took the picture and he says, a little loudly, "I thought you thought this one was too tacky or something. " Me-- "Shh! Way to go Dan! That guy is out in his driveway! He totally heard you!"
He, typical of Dan, who has a life-long ambition to become the best liked man on Earth, looked all worried and scanned around. No guy. Of course I was only messing with him. Rascally me.


Then we laughed our butts off and drove away. He boomed out in his loud announcer voice- "We're here for the Tacky Homes & Gardens photo shoot-- didn't anyone warn you?!" After we went home, plugged in our slightly leaning to the left tree, and watched the shows he video taped for me when I wasn't home earlier in the week. He drank his customary ridiculously huge mug of cocoa and rubbed my legs, and I obsessive-compulsively seeded a pomegranate, and we basked in our cat and humor filled homeyness. Ahh Christmasy luv.

The Killers - Spaceman

Hey people and welcome, once again, to Fav Lyrics Friday.
The local weather guy, reporting from one of our modest ski hills this morning, signed off with, “Fresh pow!—You bet’cha.” Minnesota—god luv it.

I can’t believe another week has flown by. I have one gift left to buy. Since I know there is zero possibility my grandma will see this I’ll spill it—I want to find a decent (not necessarily fancy) spa in her area where there is a very kind and careful massage therapist who is capable of giving a 94 y/o woman a massage without breaking her—or weirding her out—also not costing a small fortune. She’s never had one in her whole life. About time wouldn’t you say?

Anyway—much more catching up on Sue goings on this weekend sometime. Stay tuned. Lots of pics to load up and charming weirdness to report.

On to today’s topic—The Killers.

Some of you may remember not long ago I got into this post about giving it up creatively and was comparing them with The Kaiser Chiefs. Since then I’ve heard the song they performed – “Spaceman” several more times and it’s really grown on me. I found this vid on youtube (scroll all the way to bottom) and adorably earnest Brandon Flowers is wearing the very same feather festooned jacket I described before!

This song is cool, no doubt, but the thing that really grabs me about this vid, same as when I caught them on T.V. a couple weeks ago—is what is emanating from Brandon Flowers. He looks ready to jump out of his skin. He looks amped, and determined, and maybe even slightly terrified—like he’s trying to beam his song right into your consciousness, willing you to get it, like his life depends on it. I don’t know why but I just really feel it.

These guys reportedly came up rather poor. None of them are college guys. They met at some real estate seminar. Call it reverse snobbery—call it anti- intellectualism—but bands, or any artists-- who come from not much resonate with me for obvious reasons. Sure the smart thing, as a musician, is to go to some nice college and have your little band fun playing frat parties and local bars. If something happens—great! If not, well, lucky for you, you have other options. If you are just out there going for it without a net and nothing happens—you wind-up being just another guy working a string of construction jobs until, much sooner than you’d ever imagine, your body starts to break down, and you’re kind of screwed. Who do you think the stakes are higher for?

Take that scenario, and consider what kind of commitment to your creativity it takes to put stuff out there people may or may not relate to, because it’s just what’s clawing its way out of you. Yeah. You go Brandon Flowers, and all the rest of you out there doing your thing come hell or high water—you go.

“Spaceman”
by The Killers

It started with a low light,
Next thing I knew they ripped me from my bed;
And then they took my blood type,
It left a strange impression in my head.
You know that I was hoping,
That I could leave this star-crossed world behind;
But when they cut me open,
I guess I changed my mind.
And you know I might
Have just flown too far from the floor this time,
'cause they calling me by my name!
And the zipping white light beams
disregards the bombs and satellites!

That was the turning point;
That was one lonely night!

The song maker says, "It ain't so bad"
The dream maker's going make you mad
The spaceman says, "Everybody look down!
Its all in your mind!"

Well now I'm back at home, and-
I’m looking forward to this life I live;
You know its gonna haunt me,
So hesitation to this life I give.
You think you might cross over,
You're caught between the devil and the deep blue sea;
You better look it over,
Before you make that leap!

And you know I'm fine, but I hear those voices at night
sometimes... they justify my claim,
and the public don’t dwell on my transmission
'cause it wasn’t televised...

But, it was the turning point,
Oh what a lonely night!

The song maker says, "It ain't so bad"
The dream maker's going make you mad;
The spaceman says, "Everybody look down!
Its all in your mind!"

The song maker says, "It ain't so bad"
The dream maker's going make you mad;
The spaceman says, "Everybody look down!
Its all in your mind!"

My global position systems are vocally addressed;
They say the Nile used to run from east to west,
They say the Nile used to run… from east to west.

And you know I'm fine,
but I hear those voices at night,
sometimes...

The song maker says, "It ain't so bad"
The dream maker's going make you mad;
The spaceman says, "Everybody look down!
Its all in your mind!"
The song maker says, "It ain't so bad"
The dream maker's going make you mad;
The spaceman says, "Everybody look down...
Its all in your mind!"

It's all in my mi-i-ind,
It's all in my mind...
It's all in my mind...
It's all in my mind...
It's all in my mind

oh oh oh oh oh oh oooah x8

Hey- They're touring NOW, so check out their site.
As always support the artists you enjoy-- buy their stuff.

Gimme Chills

I likes me some scary stories. This cover sucked me in last year but it wasn't the thrill I'd expected. I write about ghosts, so don't spook easily. I'll soon be ready to take on another book (I go through them pretty fast), and am looking for recommendations.

I decided what I write is probably YA, although I think of mine as more 16 and up than 14 and up, and would love to read some other really good YA. Courtney Summers' "Cracked Up To Be" will be out soon and that's already on my list-- and don't bother mentioning "Twilight"- already drank that koolaide.

What's the scariest thing you've read? -- and/or the best YA? Shoot me some suggestions-- and hey, just discovered Goodreads-- a place to network and discuss books- so sign up and friend me.

Weird Wed- Have a little drummer boy...

Too busy to load up all the pics from my latest disturbia round-up today, so instead enjoy this Kills video.

What could be more Christmas-y than a song who's main chorus is, "It's ok, to be mean."?

Actually my favorite part is "I want you to be crazy 'cause you're boring baby when you're sane." Must be the writer in me...

And by the way-- the drums are still happening at some point, and when they do-- I'm totally getting one of those hats.

Have a weird wed, ride it out people. We're almost there.

Setting The Scene

One thing I like about winter-- the opportunity to bust out my awesome boots and cool hats and scarves. Basically-- entire wardrobe change. Not entirely bad.


Just looked outside and suddenly I live inside a snow globe. Very pretty. I'd never give up living somewhere with all four seasons, even if sometimes it's so cold your lips become too rubbery to enunciate properly. Maybe that is how our giant Fargo-ish accents formed.

Anyway-- today has been another writing day. I revamped the opening of #1 (if anyone wants to be a beta reader hit me up with an email), and have been hard at work on #2- "munched" (for now). Today I got one of my characters into a setting I've been wanting to write for about two years now. Here's an excerpt:

The fence was still visible. She was still along the back-side of the compound, assuming it was square. She kept to the cover of the forest’s hem and moved silently and quickly, keeping the chain link in sight. A break in the fence was too much to hope for. She could tell she was weaker now, from lack of food and water. Her head throbbed but the feeling of being chased, even if the man had not yet appeared, distracted her from the pain. She scrambled along and prayed to her silent God for a miracle.

That was when the drowned forest came into view.

At first she was certain the shimmery patches of blue in the distance would dissipate if she blinked hard enough, but they remained. It was water. As she drew close she lost sight of the fence. She crouched in the shelter of a sumac grove and surveyed the marsh that lay across an expanse of open prairie. If she went for it she’d be completely exposed until she made it across the field. But there was water, and possibly a way under the fence, and cover.

Giant bleached root systems fanned from the surface like exotic sculptural coral formations. Tree trunks lay toppled like timbers from a massive building collapse, half-submerged. There were a lot of places to hide there-- in the murky water.

Anyway- We're still in rough, rough draft territory, but I'm psyched about getting closer to finishing this sketchy version and going back through to fill it out. Revision right now makes Sarah McLaughlin's "Building a Mystery" fire up in my head. That's kind of what it's like for me. Anyways...

Do you guys have any settings from your own writing, or even other books / movies you've found really compelling? Manderly was always one of mine, and the warehouse from Citizen Cane, anywhere haunted of course... Comment it up!

Chilling Out

It is like twenty below zero today. I am sooooo glad I don't really have to leave my house at all. The cats keep wanting me to let them out. When the frigid air hits their nose they look all offended, cast an ear off to one side, and expect me to fix this deplorable situation.

I just noticed my tree seems to be leaning a bit to one side. That's ok. It's kind of an off-kilter Christmas around here so far. I was thinking about trees of Christmas pasts. The first year Dan and I had a place of our own we bought a real tree. We thought they'd cost about $20. Wrong. Don't ask me why we went through with it, but after getting the $50 tree, we couldn't afford decorations so had to make kindergarten-y construction paper ornaments and string cheerios & marshmallows etc.

One of the most unique trees I ever had was at a place I lived with a coworker for a while (Dan and I were "on a break" for about 6 months-- I'd gotten totally sick of living with all his friends). It came with a piano that no one wanted to move down the steep narrow stairs. It was an apartment above a bullet riddled "electrical repair shop", that we were pretty sure was just a front for a drug operation. Homeless people squatted in the stair wells, which had no light. When you came home at night you'd have to check for vagrants on the steps. It was always a panicky dash up the stairs and you'd get that hairs-on-the-back-of-your-neck-standing-up sensation of someone right behind you as you madly fumbled for your keys in the pitch dark. Across the street were a suprette/liquor store where they made their own sausage (?-- I know... weirdness abounds) and giant malt silos, so the entire neighborhood smelled like spicy meat and yeast. Disgusting.

There was a guy who lived across the street who would smoke under the street light and stare up at our place. There were huge windows running the entire length (the place was huge, disgusting, but huge), and we could only afford blinds for the two bedrooms, so you could see right inside. He'd stand out there and smoke and stare and not even pretend otherwise when we'd bust him.

We decided to start putting on little one act plays for him which usually involved pretending to murder each other. We'd chase each other around with a giant butcher knife and have pretend karate fights and shoot-outs with toy guns. These invariably disolved into hysterical laugher, after which we'd take theatrical bows, jumping in front of the windows as if coming from behind the stage curtains. Sometimes by the time we'd look out to see his reaction he'd be gone. It entertained the heck out of us anyway.

We had ornaments- she did, but neither of us could afford a tree. I got some fish line from work ( I was a display person at the time) and I made an invisible tree by suspending all the ornaments in the conical shape of a tree. It was pretty freaking cool for something cheap and improvised.

Today is a writing day. #2- working title "munched" is rolling along. #3 is whispering in my ear-- but #1, #1 is getting a face lift. I decided to rework the first chapter a bit, just the opening basically, but it will wind-up shifting some stuff around that will affect the whole first chapter.

Stay warm!

I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm - It's A Wonderful Life

There is one Christmas tradition I enjoy that would probably surprise some of you- because it’s pretty darn traditional. Every year Dan and I lounge around on the sofa together and watch “It’s A Wonderful Life” on network T.V.

We don’t have cable (no, not Amish, just choose not to afford), and there is something about the show just playing, regardless of you and your schedule, of it’s own accord, something immediate. It preserves the old “but it’s on right now” urgency some of you may remember from before the dawn of Tivo. When he called me on the cell I was already turning onto Main Street with our pizza on the passenger seat.

“Where are you? It’s starting!”

We both love this movie. Old black and white Jimmy Stewart was my first movie boyfriend. We have to watch this every year or it just doesn't feel like Christmas. We laugh in all the same old spots, and sit there most of the evening with goofy nostalgic grins on our faces. I usually con a bit of leg rubbing out of him every night, sprawling shamelessly all over him, pestering him until he relents, but during “our show” I didn’t even have to ask.

Last night I took my 94 year old grandma out on a date for her birthday. We ran a bunch of errands, then I took her out to dinner. We pigged out, having an appetizer before out meal, then I drove her around for couple hours looking at Christmas lights. After, we stopped somewhere for pie.

On the ride home she said, “Did you see that man and woman come in to have pie right as we were leaving? That was nice. You never get over that—missing someone to go have pie or whatever with. You always miss it.”

I went to live with her the summer my grandpa died, to help ease the transition for her. She’d never even put gas in her car, or gone grocery shopping by herself, well, not for years and years. She was devastated at losing him. I asked her one night, if it was worth it—was it worth all the agonizing heartache of the loss? -- The years she’d had with him? She had to think it over, but in the end said yes—It was.

That was when I went all in with Dan. I was already in big time love with him, but at that point I really committed. He didn’t fully understand when I told him, “This BETTER wind-up being worth it, or, or—it just better be. That’s all.” So far it has been totally worth it. He seems to think so too.

See? Not a total Scrooge. Here’s hoping you find a little patch of peace during the crazy holiday season, and that you either find that person to share pie with, or look over at who ever is next to you and let them know how glad you are that they’re around.

Brad Sucks!

Brad Sucks - Dropping Out of School from Brian Ross II on Vimeo.


Hey people- Welcome to fav lyrics fri again. Up this week- Brad Sucks!
(Is that name awesome or what?) (Big props to Brian Ross too for the awesome video. Click him too for even more vid-coolage.)
Brad is, as he puts it, "a one man band with no fans", but Brad, come on-- that's crap and we know it. He's actually got a ton of fans- especially for some indie guy making his own music all by himself up in the the frozen tundra of Canadia. (Bonus points for being Canadian Brad. Good job.)

There's a lot I like about his music. Seriously, the two albums i picked up on his site are the best $20 I've spent in a quite while, but he's not a typical lyric pick for me. His writing is super straightforward, often simplistic-- but it works. That's all it takes sometimes, and that's a good reminder, right writery types? Sometimes the most effective writing IS simple.

I had a really hard time picking one song to feature, because I like so many of them, and the songs are so wonderfully simple, they almost all have snippets of wonderful. I like this guy's music, but am interested in him on another level too. The music industry is changing so much right now. For the first time it's technically possible for artists to produce their own music in their own basements or where ever. Brad uses ( I believe) a drum program, sometimes referred to disparagingly as "fake beats". The wanna be drummer in me bridles at this, but it sounds like he's pretty diligent about how the rhythms come out.

The idea of someone recording their own music by recording each individual track, vocals, backing vocals, guitar/s, drums, etc, etc and blending it all together is fascinating to me as an artist. Of course, even if they can put together awesome albums like Brad here, it remains to be seen how successful they are at getting their stuff out there, and getting paid. The whole process is intensely interesting to me. Like all of us, there's the creating part we all are in love with, but in music the other end of it sounds so overwhelming. It's amazing to me people are so driven to attempt it.

Anyway-- help a dude out. Support another artist out there doing his thing, who is working hard and really good at it.

Here's a sampling of lyrics of his I like - but do yourself a favor-- go to his site, and listen to all his songs FOR FREE, then BUY THEM. I've put a few up in the player so go nuts. Don't be a chicken, click 'em. (emailers-- go to actual blog and rock-out)

Lyrics are from a bunch of different songs
Sorry, couldn't pick!

you and i you and i

baby i just
i just don’t wanna talk about it
and then it’s
if you mind if you mind
maybe i’ll just
maybe i’ll write a song about it
~
Is it so hard to fake it
Is it so hard to fake it
Is it so hard to take your own advice?
~
Ok, so you’re feeling all alone
I heard it on the radio
On a broadcast from the sky
~
Ordinary- being scary
~
I don’t wanna be right
baby every single night
Think i'm losing it
~
Rubber rooms and taking funny pills
Filling up on notes and dollar bills
it’s the price you pay for feeling ok
...
I’ve been thinking bout fixing my brain
but I’m afraid I won’t feel the same.
‘cause Baby it’s all I do
~
Playing it safe wasn’t good enough,
maybe once you should lose your mind
...
Upside-down In a busted car half off the pavement
~
don’t you know
the lengths i will go
to be anyone that you wish i would

don’t you know
the lengths i will go
to be understood by your dad
~
Put my hand on the gasoline

Just Go Listen-- You need to hear this stuff in context.

Collage Party - And- Christmas Not Complete suckfest...

Here they are people-- My fabulous Wed night gal pals. (I just can't say yaya's anymore, sorry.) We had a great time, as always, eating, drinking and doing our collage-y thing last night at my place. Dan was sequestered upstairs, thanking the good lord he had another room to escape to, to avoid estrogen poisoning.

So here's my new collage. The legs in the center are me- looking forward, wind at my back. (I want an outfit like this.) Click for bigger, better view. The upper left is a weird surrealist landscape with naked people watching a giant movie screen. This represents dreams. I like to pay attention to these. Great creative fodder. You'll notice $ falling into the "writey zone" in the lower left-- hello universe. Above the legs it says, "Life is either a daring adventure or nothing." Yep. There's also running, and the underwater girl is my subconscious/muse. There is a pic of people floating on a river, and some woodsy scenes-- all from the setting/s of my stories. This is basically all about my creativity-- living it. It's pretty inseparable from me right now. I'm just going to follow it and hope it takes me where I need to get to.

I should ad, you don't need any artistic ability to do this project. Someone emailed about that. There really isn't any way to screw it up, and it's made of fun.

In other Sue news-- Put up the tree yesterday. Wasn't super into it to be honest, but some parts were really fun. Hello elephants.

Hi'ya glittery pomegranates.

Welcome back improbable birds.

At the end of the night one of my friends looked over and two of the "girls" had decided I had put the tree up specifically for them. Take that cute overload.

Today I'm in sue Hefner mode (writing in bathrobe) until Trusty Pam calls and we go running- or maybe sliding. Hang in there- remember, set that holiday expectations bar low and your stress will be too.

Nick Of Time

Hey people-- Sorry, no disturbia today. Just not that kind of a Wed. Instead, some cool stuff to share with you. My little circle of "Artist Way" friends that have met every other wed for something like ten years are coming over tonight for our annual collage party. Funny how things show up just exactly when you need them huh?

This is such a cool idea, it's spilled over into my other group of arty friends and I now do two collages a year. They're so cool they should be called "cool-ages". Here's the premise-- you start with a big blank piece of tag board (or whatever), and place yourself in the center. This can be a picture of you or just something representing you. Then you begin to place images around yourself that represent things you love, things you're inexplicably drawn to (this process is somewhat mystical), things you would like to attract to your life, goals, etc. Think of this as a compass and cosmic magnet for the coming year. It's best if you can collect images somewhat impulsively, because it allows your subconscious to filter through.

You'd be amazed at what results. We go through these year after year, and VERY often, things we may not have understood when we created the collage become totally obvious in hindsight. There really is something to this idea of stating your goals, making conscious choices about your life. It seems to make things happen. Try it-- you won't be disappointed.

Here are some I've done in recent years. You'll probably want to click on these to get a better look.

The mysterious twig-haired woman in this one is my creative muse whispering to me. You'll notice an elephant. I have a major thing for elephants ever since reading "The White Bone" and almost always include one somewhere. They symbolize loyalty, intelligence, female power, and the deeper wisdom of the earth/universe-- that there are things we as humans neither understand or appreciate. The other themes are basically health, nature, my relationship w/ Dan, creativity and writing.

This one was very writing / creativity centric. I was also trying to grab images and colors without thinking for the background-- the yellow is uncharacteristic for me-- also, elephants.

The next 2 are from last year. The woman in black represents me working my creative mojo. I remember dividing this one into thirds, with the top representing home, the middle, work, and the bottom, health. I'd been really debilitated by a bad back injury and a leg fracture so was really determined to get back into fightin' form. Also at this point $ became an issue, and my workspace was really up in the air. There is a little pic of a tiny "house" with a woman walking towards it. That was my statement that, "I WILL have a shop, and it may not be big, but it will be just right." Low-and-behold-- hubby got an old (1934) garage for free (you dismantle it and haul it and it's yours), and has been working the last year to resurrect it for me. It's so awesome and almost done.

A friend's husband said this looks like an album cover. It kind of does. I really like it. It's totally about following my creativity where it leads me. The foot is me getting right into the deep end, fearlessly. The elevator at the bottom represents "going to work". In what I do, there are creative tides, but you can't wait for inspiration to hit you. You have to get on the elevator every day and write / do art. Sometimes it will turn out crappy. That's called "good practice". But you have to get on and push a button every day.

There is a leg in the bottom left corner. I had a stress fracture from running that got so bad I could hardly walk. I gained 20 pounds and couldn't rely on one of the best tricks I've learned to deal with "life"-- moving my body to dispel some of the yuck. The doctor thought I'd need a metal rod put in. That was almost a year ago. Now I'm running farther than I ever thought I would-- no rod.

I know, my pendulum is swinging all over the place right now, but that's how I roll sometimes. It seems, ultimately, beneficial. The fact remains that the world/universe is a pretty damn wondrous place, and life, with all its ups and downs and-- for we creative types-- sideways's, is constantly amazing.

Now I'm pretty psyched for tonight. Tomorrow I'll post the new collage.

Pull Up

That's a command, actually. It's what I need to do. The season is getting to me. The economy is getting to me. The frustrating process of trying to get published- is getting to me. Even the weird isolationist camaraderie of social networking is getting to me. I've been here before, starting to feel detached, cynical in the extreme, negative. I need to pull up.

I stumbled onto something really helpful the other day. This happens-- if you pay close enough attention, sometimes wisdom drops like a cosmic gumball into your head. In the "Keepin it real" post I commented that if you concentrate on striving for your purest creativity in whatever you're doing-- at really doing the absolute best you can- giving it all up-- you at least will never have regrets about the work itself. Hello? -- universe to Sue...

That's what I need to concentrate on right now. I decided I'm not going to get out there querying again until sometime in Jan, and until then I need to quit obsessing about finding an agent. It's beginning to interfere with my actual work-- creating.

What the heck is this thing? It's obviously a cutlery tray, but to me it's also a really inspiring piece of rusted metal. This thing has been kicking around the antique shop in Buffalo for months. I'm not going to buy it because it's too expensive for what it is-- but I love looking at it. Weird? - yeah. But at this point whatever feeds my imagination / soul.

I could use some inspiration right now. This morning a twitter/blogger buddy linked a really cool writing blog and I added it to my list, but I could use more. What are some things that inspire you? Any good art / writing blogs you know of? What gets you to pull out of a nosedive?

Annual Holiday Letter Time...

Yes-- This is what Sue did instead of cleaning today. Time well spent.


Dear close personal friend/ loved one,

As all the Who’s of Whoville dig into the roast beast, and drivers loose all ability to park in an orderly fashion, it reminds me the holidays are, once again, upon us like a hoard of flashing, obnoxious slot machines. I am not sending cards this year, not for environmental reasons, but because I’m simply too lazy. (Honesty is refreshing isn't it? It makes me feel like a good person. ~Warm Glow~. ) Instead I’ve elected to regale you with these fascinating and awkwardly intimate reflections on the passing year.

What a year it’s been! Dan mowed the lawn repeatedly all summer but it stubbornly kept growing. Several shows cropped up on television we quite enjoyed. Some got cancelled, but others did not! We both needed haircuts at various times throughout the year. Things went in one end and came out the other. We each reported weird dreams at various, random points, and had emotions regularly, and also flossed- but not as often as recommended. Maybe next year… :D

This one time, we were certain someone had broken into our home and stolen a few random items, but it turned out they had only been temporarily misplaced. That was exciting. We felt all outraged and violated, but then just laughed at our goofy absentmindedness. One of the cops looked exactly like actor Brad Garret, which was funny since when he was on Everybody Loves Raymond, he played a cop. Crazy!

Now that’s it’s cold out we’ve taken to wearing layers and fuzzy and / or woolly things. The cats continue to be a source of comfort and joy, amusing us for hours on end when not puking on the carpeting. They are all excelling in their assorted activities and courses of study. What with all the napping, stretching, licking, barfing, napping, vicious turf wars, napping, licking—whew! Who can keep up!?

Here’s hoping you and yours have a wonderful, glow-y, non-stressful holiday that meets your every expectation in some incredibly meaningful way, leaving you teary-eyed with joy and wonderment, and not at all suicidal.

Love—Our Family

PS-- I’ve heard some stores will be starting their After Christmas Sales at midnight Dec 25! — Don’t miss out on all the disgusting consumerism! There IS NOT, despite reports to the contrary, enough to go around! Get yours baby, get yours.

Keepin' It Real

Man, It's tough out there people. Yesterday I learned from an artist friend, working one of our many fall back options-- getting a job at Target to help pay some bills, (often referred to as a J.O.B., not to be confused with actually working for the man)-- that Target is now laying people off. That's one less option.

I'm not there yet, and besides, this post isn't even about that. It's about keeping your creative mojo going despite what's going on in the world around you, even when it seems the sensible option would be to purposely go as commercial as you can. This will surely be as convoluted and strung-out as my thoughts this morning, but try to stay with me.

While hubby and I were checking out some late night T.V. this week we caught a couple bands. Most of you guys aren't that into my music but hang with me. One was Kaiser Chiefs, the other was The Killers. They both have albums they're promoting (duh), and I'd say enjoy similar levels of popularity. Kaiser Chiefs looked pretty standard for their performance, typical brit-pop band. The killers' front man was wearing some bizarre, obviously homemade jacket with a bunch of feathers glued on to form some kind of epaulets. He also was sweating profusely and looked pretty twitchy, actually kind of insane in his black eyeliner.

We got into this whole conversation comparing them. I kept trying to show Dan how while there was nothing "wrong" with the Kaiser Chief's, they just weren't giving it up as much as the Killers. Their song was catchy, and they did a good job. Their guy was hyper-aware of the camera which made him seem vain and bugged me, but hey-- the other guy had an actual costume-- It wasn't like he was "no-big-dealing" it. It was just that I could tell in some way I still can't fully explain, the Killer's music was coming from somewhere inside, or somehwere bigger. The Kaiser Chiefs' had manufactured a hit, while the other guy (Killers) was laying it out there, come what may. Somehow the stakes were higher and I could just sense it.

That's our job creative types. To lay it out there, bare ourselves at some level. It's obviously possible to succeed without doing this. I'm reading a book right now by an author I've really enjoyed in the past, but this time round, it feels like a phoner, a little formulaic. I'm sure he's still doing pretty well though. We've all seen example of this I'm sure.

Last week I had the opportunity to visit someone who began as an art client, became a collector, and now is kind of a friend too, even though we don't really hang out. She and her husband have my art all over their super cool house, displayed alongside many other gorgeous pieces. She has a lot of my older work, stuff from when I used to make things so fast and sell them so quickly I usually didn't even take a picture of them, stuff I'd forgotten about.

Her son was there- this super cool kid, well-- twenty. He's already collecting his own art, and has the greatest energy, just someone you know is one of the good ones. It was so inspiring seeing them again, and seeing all my art in this fantastic setting being really loved and appreciated. It made me excited for moving into my new shop (next week now, I'm being told) and to start making art the way I used to, before the move, before losing my workspace, before having to always be in crunch mode in the driveway. I'm looking forward to just laying it out there, being ok with making a bunch of weird crap in order to make room for the good stuff to get through.

This approach makes no sense in this kind of "market"-- or doesn't it? It's the only way I know to make real art (or writing or whatever), to tap into that whatever it is that separates the real from the manufactured. I have to believe it's more important to preserve that than anything else. That's when you become inseparable from your art, for better or worse.

That's what I'm doing with the writing too. It's weird working so diligently at something you may or may not ever get paid for. I guess the bottom line for me is, I can tell in my own work, what's real, the stuff that comes from somewhere else, v.s. the stuff that's perhaps still alright, but product. I don't want to settle for less than real.

Does any of this make sense to you creative types? Can you feel the difference when you're working on something? Is it immediately apparent or does it evolve?

The White Stripes - The Big Three Killed My Baby

Playlist doesn't have this week's pick, so, scroll all the way to bottom for the video version.

Remember to get the full effect you should listen as you check the lyrics out. This song is SO timely, given what's been going down at the senate hearings concerning the bailout of the automakers. It goes to show how effed up this industry has been for a really long time now. This song came out TEN YEARS AGO! It rawks, and leave it to Jack White to use "obsolescence" and reference Preston Tucker in one of his songs. Why not, Tesla, Revelations, redneck patricide-- Nothing's off the table in his lyrics, or should be, right creative types?

In other Sue-news:

Still working on #2, working title-- "Munched". Same cast as #1. Some guy is snatching street kids and feeding them to his tiger. Before killing them though, he entertains himself by hunting them down in his own private, psycho, game preserve. Dianna and her ghosts help solve the case.

This weekend, possibly starting to move some of my welding equipment into my new shop, maybe. Also, writing, maybe cleaning (shudder), definitely jamming out, and going to Grandma's 94th birthday party.

She says it still sometimes freaks her out to catch her reflection and see how old she is. It will be weird aging. I plan on living into my 120's. I used to think, "Well, I'll never be any younger or hotter than I am right now." That hasn't proven out. I feel younger, am in better shape, and reportedly am much hotter (Of course, Dan pretty much has to go along with this or his action dies off pretty quick. ;) ) than when I used to say that, like 10 years ago- er- about when this song came out. Wow-- TM Sue Related I!

Enjoy the song. Enjoy your weekend. Remember to shake it at some point-- keeps you young.

The Big # Killed My Baby

By The White Stripes

The big three killed my baby
No money in my hand again
The big three killed my baby
Nobody’s coming home again

Their ideas make me wanna spit
A hundred dollars goes down the pit
Thirty-thousand wheels a rollin’
And my stick shift hands are swollen
Everything involved is shady
The big three killed my baby
yeah yeah yeah

The big three killed my baby
No money in my hand again
The big three killed my baby
Nobody’s comin’ home again

Why don’t cha take the day off and try to repair
A billion others don't seem to care
Better ideas are stuck in the mud
The motor's runnin’ on Tucker's blood
Dont let 'em tell you the future's electric
Cuz gasoline not measured in metric
Thirty-thousand wheels a spinnin’
And oil company faces are grinnin’
And now my hands are turnin’ red
And i found out my baby is dead
yeah yeah yeah

The big three killed my baby
No money in my hand again
The big three killed my baby
Nobody's comin’ home again

Well I've said it now
Nothing’s changed
People are burnin’ for pocket change
And creative minds are lazy
And the big three killed my baby
yeah yeah yeah
And my baby's my common sense
So don’t feed me planned obsolescence
And my baby's my common sense

Yeah I’m about to have another blow-out (2x)