I am still writing, just privately and inconsistently. I didn’t write at all while we were on our Eclipse trip and then not for a few days after we returned. And I was fine with that. And then I started again, reminding myself of all the things I do outside of writing so I wouldn’t be surprised when sometimes I forget to write.
In the midst of all this, I finalized a short story that I plan to make available for free. I started the story in 1992 in a writing workshop with Jerome Stern. Although it is fiction, I had my parents in mind while I wrote it. Now that they are both deceased, I feel I can share the story now. I want to release it on Mother’s Day. Wish me well.
Creativity
I’ve been making potholders again, a few to gift to friends for upcoming special occasions. The rest will pile up until I can figure out what to do with them. I’ve also been knitting a pair of socks but I put those aside in order to knit a scarf. I bought this kit in Spruce –Bennet Bandana–from a shop in Thomasville, GA. It was a perfect knitting project for our trip: simple to knit, simple to stow in my bag. I could have brought the socks, but … well, I wanted a break from them.
Garden
When we got back from San Antonio, I was thrilled to find that our Bugleweed plant was straight-up blooming.
Bugleweed in our side yard.
Even more exciting, a small plant I had recently bought, and promptly forgot the name of, also started to bloom. Thankfully, I remembered to include the tag the plant came with: Fringed Campion.
The first bud of my Fringled Campion
Bloom in Portrait mode.
It’s blooming!
Grief
As Mother’s Day approaches, my mood is shifting downward. I know I’m adding to my stress by my plan to release a short story, but what else should I do? It will be my first Mother’s Day without my mom. How else can I honor her and my memory of her? And my sister Shirley. Almost two years she’s been gone and yet my heart still twists in pain when I see the Mother’s Day cards that I would have bought for her. There’s no getting over this kind of loss.
Cats
But for our cats, I’d be in a sorrier state. This guy here … we are now calling him Snugglebunny. He snuggled up to me all on his own. I’m so glad I was able to snap a picture and record the event.
Monday evening I received this lovely bluebird in the mail. The bluebird from a gift from Zazzy, a blogging friend I’ve never met and only recently became acquainted with.
I was quite moved to receive a gift and moved to tears that it was a bluebird. As many of you know, bluebirds are special to me as they remind me of people I’ve love and lost, like my stepdad, his son, and my sister.
This little guy is staying indoors, but I thought he would photograph nicely in natural light.
Thank you, Zazzy, for warming my heart.
Writing
Just over a week ago I took a major leap and signed up for A Year of Writing Dangerously, hosted by Summer Brennan on Substack. I’ve been reading Summer’s work for a couple of years now and have taken her Essay Camps a couple of times. Before I signed up, I hadn’t been writing for a couple of months, at least not writing much of substance and it was starting to grate on me. But I was also depressed. Yup, that dark demon just won’t leave me alone. He likes to show up just when I’m starting to feel good about life.
So it might seem contraindicated for me to join an intensive writing practice for a whole year. But I’ve been paying attention to Summer and the community building up around her, because of her. I know I’ll be in a safe place for writing. For one thing, I don’t have to share anything I write, ever. The focus is on developing a practice, finding those gems buried deep in the mounds of seemingly nonessential words, and then making them shine and sparkle. On our own. Summer will guide us through example and recommended readings. On Substack, we have something like a chat room where we can account for ourselves in whatever way we want. But we don’t have to share our writing, and I like that.
For now, I want my writing to be for my eyes only. The writing I struggle with, that is. Book reviews, photo essays, things like that, can go out into the public sphere. That’s the whole reason for writing those. But right now, I need to just be writing and not worrying about whether my writing is boring or interesting.
Today is Day 7, and I have written for seven days, writing about what I see and hear and remember. Ranting, which I still do a lot of, is not part of my daily writing assignment. It doesn’t count except to clear my head so I can write intentionally.
So here I am. Zazzy’s bluebird couldn’t have arrived at a better time.
Look closely and you’ll see my reflection on the bluebird’s breast.
I’ve only missed one day of writing in the last 24 days, a streak I haven’t had in a very long time. My writing has been quite inconsistent, though. At first, I firmly adhered to writing per the five-things essay promoted by Summer Brennan as such:
It does not have to have five paragraphs or five topics. The number five functions more like five little shoves to keep you thinking, to keep your pen moving across the page or your fingers on the keyboard.
(For more on this, read Summer’s description of the Five Things Essay here: The Five Things Essay.)
Initially, I wrote about five distinct things (writing, walking, friendship, family, weaving). Then, occasionally, I’d start with one thing and let it flow into another thing (for example, reflecting about friendships could lead me to also write about loneliness). More recently, my writing turned into talk therapy as I used it to vent and analyze. Even more recently, I started “cheating,” using the five things prompt to read and comment on blog posts, with my comments being the “five things.” This way I can keep up (more or less) with reading blogs as well as fulfill my daily writing assignment.
I’m not sure where this is going to lead me. I firmly believe that any writing is writing that counts, whether the words are for a novel, a blog post, a poem, or a list. Comments on blog posts counts, at least to me, because I always reread what I wrote before I hit send and often edit as well. I don’t want to be misunderstood.
Today, I am going to write my five things here.
Weaving
I recently finished weaving and sewing together 16 potholders to make a tripod mat for my husband. He wants to be able to view the night sky with his telescope out on our patio, but was worried about slippery fingers and dropping lenses down to the hard stones. Hence, this thick cotton mat which fits neatly under the tripod.
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For the four center pieces, I used the pattern Shadow Fern by Deborah Jean Cohen (from her book In the Loop: Radical Potholder Patterns & Techniques, p. 100). The rest of the squares were simple stripes or plain weave. Loops are flax, leaf and autumn from Friendly Looms. In the photo of the full mat, you can see a mistake I made when sewing the squares together. One of the corner squares has its stripes going horizontally instead of vertically. My husband, ever resourceful, said that square will represent North.
Sunsets
Before we set the clocks back an hour, my husband and I enjoyed long evenings on our patio, watching the light turn golden before heading back into our house for dinner. Now it’s a bit of a scramble as I like to prep for dinner ahead of time, before we relax on the patio. One evening I was running late. I was in the middle of prepping for dinner when my husband remarked that it looked like we might have a nice sunset. I thought I would shrug it off (surely, there’ll be more sunsets to enjoy) until he said, “Honey, you have to see this!” As quickly as possible, I put everything in the frig or the microwave for safe keeping (i.e., away from Wendy and Raji) and hurried outside only to have to run back inside to get my phone. He was right. I had to see this.
Sunset over our neighbor’s roof.
Life
One of the joys of having a garden is seeing life bloom. We’ve had some warm days, and the long-winged zebra butterflies have been busy laying eggs. Now we have larvae on our passion vine which will eventually yield more butterflies.
You have to look closely for the larvae. They are there.
Flowers
Actually this could fit under Life, but I’m trying to write five things so … This lovely red Gerbera flower is from a plant that I bought a few years ago. I used to keep it on our deck but everytime it bloomed, a squirrel would decapitate the flower. I was going to give up on it when my husband suggested putting it on the patio. After several months there, it has started to bloom again. And, so far, no squirrels have attempted to make off with the flower.
Red Gerbera daisy
Cats
A few weeks ago, our neighbors had a guest who liked to park their car directly across from our driveway. So it didn’t take long before I noticed some unusual but delightful stencils on the passenger and driver-side windows.
Who are you looking at?
Peeky boo!
I’d love to get these for my car!
Thank you for reading. To those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope you had a wonderful holiday. To the rest of you, I hope you had a wonderful Thursday.
One of my most favorite bloggers, Ally of The Spectacled Bean, happens to like zinnias. Actually, I believe she likes them a lot. A couple of months ago, I bought a pair of zinnias from a local nursery. They were in the same pot, a mix of yellow and pink. Sadly, the yellow zinnia did not survive, but the pink one has and it is quite a showy flower.
I would argue that the above photo doesn’t do the flower justice, but I do like how you can see the various stages of life on this plant. The following photos are more to my liking.
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They are such a delight when the sun is shining directly on them! The challenge for me is whether I should transplant them to a sunnier venue, which would likely be off my deck and outside my range of vision when I’m sitting at my computer, OR keep them on the deck and repot them as necessary with hopes that they will survive the winter.
I believe zinnias are annuals, but in my climate, I’m hoping these might become perennials.
Wendy
Wendy is doing quite well after our (not hers) brief scare. She’s doing all her cat things normally, including swatting at Raji now and then. [One night, when they were both gathering around my legs while I was reclined, watching TV, she swatted at Raji when he got too close. He punched her back. Seriously, he punched her. Chaos ensued.]
Writing
I have been writing. For the first five days of November, I was quite earnest in my writing and found some nice support from other participants in Summer Brennan’s Essay Camp. [By the way, Summer is starting a series of essays on essays which I’m looking forward to reading. If you’re interested in learning more, she has an free introductory post here: Introducing the Essay Series.] I have been using NaNo to track my word counts, but not much else. I feel myself sliding into a rut. Unfortunately, I’m preoccupied with a family issue, and I thought writing about it would help clear my head, but family issues are the gifts that just keep giving, aren’t they?
On the bright side, refocusing on my writing has made me think about the stories I’ve already written and what (if anything) to do with them. Some have been published so rights have reverted back to me. I don’t have much enthusiasm for finding new publishers for them, but I want to share them “with the world.” One idea I’ve had is to have booklets of my short stories printed, along the lines of Creative Nonfiction Foundation’s (now defunct) True Story series, and then I can gift them to interested readers.
Does anyone reading this post have experience with printing booklets of their stories? Please share if you do.
I’d also love to have some recommendations for printing services to narrow my search. So far, it looks like it might be expensive.
Meanwhile … last night I saw an interesting contrail from my Adirondack chair … no filters on this photo.
Folks, I am so tired of feeling depressed and listless. I know I’ll continue to feel sad, at some times more than others, but I want to pick up my life again. So, of course, I’m going to start off with a bit of overdoing. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t overdo things.
Over on Substack, Summer Brennan will be hosting “Essay Camp,” five days of prompts and readings and general encouragement to write every day for five days. You can get more info from her post here: https://www.awritersnotebook.org/p/essay-camp-a-november-write-along. It’s free to join. I’ve tried participating in other essay camps that Summer has hosted, but Life would always get in the way. My fingers are crossed that this time no life-changing, trauma-inducing events will occur; that is, not within my personal life. I’ve given up on the world outside my fence.
Of course, November 1 is also the start of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo to those who have participated before). I won’t be writing a novel. I’ll be writing essays or maybe memoir-like bits. I plan to use NaNoWriMo to track my writing in Essay Camp and beyond. It’s not relevant or important that I write 50,000 words. I’ll be happy with whatever I have to show for myself by the end of the month.
Meanwhile …
I am so loving this plant that sits outside my window.
It’s called Cat Whiskers so you know why I had to buy it from a local nursery. (For you gardeners out there, the scientific name is Orthosiphon aristatus). At the time I bought it, I wasn’t aware that its flowers would attract hummingbirds and butterflies. In truth, I’ve only seen a hummingbird occasionally check out the flowers, but I LOVE the flowers. And, turns out that Cat Whiskers blooms in April and October. I was really surprised (and thrilled) to see so many blooms this month.
Another favorite is this Indian Blanket (Gailardia pulchella).
The first time I saw an Indian Blanket plant was at St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. A small cluster was nestled alongside the trail I was riding on. When I saw this joyful plant at another local nursery, I grabbed it.
Both of these plants would probably be happier in the ground, but they lift my heart when I look out my window on my writing days. I need them where I can see them.
Meanwhile …
The Zebra butterflies are still making whoopee on our Passion Flower vine. I had the pleasure of watching one very delicately lay a few eggs on a stem while another butterfly flitted about, no doubt giving her encouragement. My hands were full of gardening tools so I couldn’t take any photos then. Later, I managed to get this macro shot of several eggs.
Looks like we might have an explosion of Zebra butterflies before too long.
Finally … remember what I said about Life not getting in the way of my writing plans? Well, Wendy went off her food for about a day this weekend. (Why do they always do things like that on weekends?) We had no clue as to what was troubling her. She had seemed fine right up until she refused to eat.
Of course, I panicked, but Greg (my husband) stayed calm. (Like, what else could he do while I was having a meltdown?) We gave her time. Didn’t force anything on her. Monday she started eating again, just a little bit here and a little bit there. This morning (Tuesday) she had the zoomies with Raji and she ate most of her breakfast so I’m thinking she’s okay now.
Old photo … taken in late 2019, but she hasn’t changed a bit.
Thank you for reading! If you want to join me at NaNoWriMo, my username is MarieAnnBailey (natch).
Last time you all saw me here, I shared a recently published micro-story of mine from Flash Fiction Friday. My submission had to be 100 words or less. I “complained” that a longer version of the story was better. But now I’m not sure if either version is particularly good. You be the judge because that’s what readers do.
Original, 147-word version, untitled:
The dinner party was in full swing. Six women sat around the small table with glasses of wine and plates dirty with scrapes of spaghetti. Megan, the seventh woman, sat at the end of the table, blocked by her best friend. Megan watched as her hands became translucent. Conversation revolved around when Dawn and her friends were in college, long before Megan met Dawn at work and latched onto her as one would a lifesaver.
Dawn had wanted to come to this party, see her old friends, but wouldn’t come without Megan. “I’ll go if you go,” she said. “I don’t want to go alone.”
Megan watched as her hands, arms, and body slowly disappeared, replaced by quivering energy. She rose, the women deep in reminiscences of bygone camping trips, walked through them, the women twitching only a little as she passed by and out the front door.
The edited, 100-word version at Flash Fiction Friday is here: Invisible.
Update on Junior: First, he’s fine. But earlier in the week he seemed to take a turn for the worse with lethargy and copious discharges from his nose. When he turned away from his breakfast on Wednesday, I called the hospital, in a bit of a panic and demanded asked if he could see Dr. C as soon as possible. Dr. C is Junior’s primary vet; she knows him well. The new vet, nil. We got an appointment for the next morning, and I elected to stop the stereroidal nosedrops. I mean, if he’s having worse symptoms after two+ weeks, then surely the medication is not helping. He slept most of the day and by evening was starting to eat again. Plus the nasal discharge had slowed.
We love Dr. C. She’s bright and bubbly, doesn’t shy away from talking about tough issues but doesn’t jump to conclusions either. She did a nasal swab and ordered a culture (we’re still waiting for results). Generally, though, she suspects Junior is just one of those kitties that develops chronic rhinusitis that will sometimes respond to treatment and sometimes won’t. The condition is not life threatening, but is something to stay on top of.
While Dr. C had Junior in the back of the clinic for the nasal swab, she took advantage of the fact that he has no teeth and stuck her finger in his mouth to palpate his soft palate for a tumor. Nothing. Then she took a bulb syringe and sucked a bunch of snot out of his nose. She showed us his snot.
We love Dr. C.
While we’re waiting on the culture results, we have him on antihistamines again. Aside from a super cruddy nose in the morning, which I clean up with wet paper towels and Q-tips, you wouldn’t know anything was amiss with Junior.
My green-eyed boy.
On Instagram recently, I shared a couple of photos of butterfly larvae that’s taken residence in our passionflower vine. We’ve counted at least 11 of these critters. We’re excited that we might truly have our own “butterfly garden” soon.
More butterfly larvae
Butterfly larvae
It wasn’t easy but I also managed to film a Gulf Fritillary flitting around the passionflower vine. This is what the larvae should develop into.
Other than stressing out over Junior and taking photographs, I’ve been weaving a scarf on my new toy: an Ashford Knitter’s Loom. It will be a long while before I share any photos of that adventure. My husband is impressed with the result but, to be honest, I almost ruined the project before I even started it. I remembered why I eventually gave up weaving. Some of the work is tedious and involves … math. But weaving by itself is a joy and worth the tedium of warping and angst of math.
Thank you for reading! Here’s a photo of Raji from this morning in his favorite sleeping pose … except here he is giving me the stink-eye for waking him.
After months of berating myself for falling behind in blogging—both writing and reading—this afternoon I made a concerted effort to “catch up.” Usually I work on my main computer, a laptop hooked to a 20-inch monitor. The large monitor allows more flexibility than working off my iPad, and I prefer to type rather than hunt and peck with my index finger. Yes, I have a separate keyboard but it’s old and finicky. (Excuses, excuses, I’ve got a million of them.)
But this afternoon I decided to do things differently.
My main computer is an excuse to procrastinate; as in, “I don’t feel like turning my computer on and having to sit properly, as if I were at work.” You see, during my last year of paid employment, I worked from home and, even though that was over two years ago, I still experience some traumatic memories. That’s not my rant, though.
My rant is this: I’ve been unable to share any of the WordPress posts I read this afternoon to Twitter. Not a one! Now, I know my posts no longer automatically go to Twitter when I publish. But, at least on my main computer, I could easily share posts to Twitter.
Maybe it’s not important whether I share on Twitter what I read on WordPress. Goodness knows I’ve muted more people than follow me on that platform. But I’m a creature of habit. I don’t like it when I can’t follow my regular routine. So, who’s to blame. WordPress or Twitter?
I blame Musk for mucking things up to begin with. Never have I seen anyone who so acts like he wants to destroy a company.
Well, if it’s an app problem, then it is what it is. If it’s a Musk problem, then … life will go on.
Thanks for listening. Your reward is a photo of my brother-in-law’s newish dog, Bailey. No, she was not named after me. Bailey was my sister’s maiden name, and it’s a fine name for a dog, too. Only 4 months old and already pushing 40 pounds, she’s an energetic and lovable pup.
I’ve been finding a lot of ways to avoid writing. Firstly, I challenged myself with a new-to-me method of knitting. Well, not entirely new to me as I had knitted “top-down” sweater patterns before, but those patterns always resulted in raglan sleeves … you know, the ones with a diagonal seam from armpit to collar. Not the best design for someone with a pear-shaped figure like myself. This new-to-me method, designed by Julie of Cocoknits, has a tailored yoke and pattern variations for different body types.
Are you all still with me?
I bought the Cocoknits sweater book and workbook and even a work stand (which I haven’t yet used but it came with a nice hemp bag that I could put all my tools in so that was handy). I do have some issues with the book as it was written in a narrative style, and I spent a lot of time flipping pages to figure out what to do when. I also had three false starts (meaning I started knitting and then had to rip out and start again because I misunderstand the instructions). Eventually, I also realized that it would be best to use the stash yarn that’s been wallowing in my cedar chest for the past 20 years. If the sweater is a failure, no great loss then.
And I persevered … much better than I do with my writing. For some reason, I rarely, if ever, give up on my knitting. Following is the result of my labor. Yes, this is a selfie. I do NOT enjoy taking selfies but my husband was busy and I just wanted to get it over with. The “pose” is simply to show a sleeve, not my hair, but … whatever.
Me wearing Prototype 1 of Cocoknits Emma Version B, posed to show sleeve
As if that were not enough to distract me from writing, I decided to weave potholders. Yes, you read that right. Potholders.
Many, many years ago, long before I moved to California, I learned to spin yarn and weave at a college I briefly attended. I fell in love with both activities and when it was time for me to pay tuition for the Spring semester, I decided instead to buy a 4-harness floor loom and move back home. The loom I bought is similar to the one below, but mine had four treadles instead of six.
Four harness, six treadle floor loom from Harrisville Designs.
I wove a few things, dragged the loom across the country with me, wove a couple of more things, then sold my loom to a friend when I moved into a studio apartment that simply didn’t have enough room for it. Since then, I’ve wanted to resume weaving, but haven’t felt like I have the space for it or the dinero. And now I feel totally out of touch with weaving.
I subscribe to a magazine called Little Looms which promotes weaving on small, even tiny, looms. A recent issue had an article on weaving potholders. I know I wove potholders when I was a kid, but my memories are vague. That said, I was hooked (no pun intended) by the article. I promptly ordered a potholder kit from Friendly Looms (which just happens to be affiliated with Harrisville Designs, the company from which I bought my floor loom all those years ago). Of course, I also had to buy a pattern book. Of course.
Wendy wondering what all this has to do with her.
Here’s my first potholder.
After I shared these photos on Facebook, two of my relatives asked me to make a couple for them. Cool.
Weaving potholders is a meditative practice. It also doesn’t take long to make one. It’s almost instant gratification compared to knitting a sweater.
But, in truth, I have been writing. I joined a group in the SmokeLong Fitness Community and have written a bit. I want to share what I’ve written here. I just need to figure out how I want to do that.
And if you’ve read this far … here’s your gratuitous cat photo.
My little boy Raji loves snuggling up to my big boy Junior.
January turned out to be a real bust when it came to writing. I had started the Smokelong Fitness Group in earnest but quickly lost my will to write. I submitted two pieces to my group for feedback, but I’m not sure if either is worth working on further. I even went through a period where I questioned the purpose of writing (my writing, that is).
I see lots of writers sharing their publications on Twitter and other social media, and I’m happy for them. But what does it mean? What does a long list of publications in journals–mostly online venues–mean for a writer? Sure, it’s a validating experience. It’s reassuring and rewarding to know that other people like one’s writing and want to publish it.
But is that the ultimate goal? Or is there even a goal? Do writers submit for the sake of submitting, to grow their portfolio so they can say, “Look at all the places I’ve been published.”? I don’t begrudge anyone who wants to be published. I still want to be published. But, I’m feeling a little wary about jumping on the submission bandwagon.
I have a blog (this thing here), and I occasionally write on Medium, but from what I’ve observed, it’s not enough to publish one’s writing on one’s own blog or another platform. If I have a story or a poem or an essay that I’ve worked hard on and want to share, I must first submit it to a journal, then suffer countless rejections just so, eventually, I can celebrate the one or two or five publications I finally get.
I know I’ll submit my writing like most writers do. But getting published is not why I write. At least, it’s not why I started writing.
Meanwhile …
I’ve been knitting. I just finished a wool scarf that will soon be on its way to someone in a much colder clime. The pattern was quite a challenge, but it turned out to be relatively simple once I got into a routine AND made sure I would not be distracted while knitting. The worst part was having to count the stitches after every row to be sure that I hadn’t dropped or added a stitch. Egad. But it was so worth it.
Fox Paws Scarf designed by Xandy Peters
Close-up of pattern
The colors in the photos are off a bit. They are: navy, plum, lavender, charcoal gray, and light gray. Even though I initially struggled with the pattern, I’m game to make another Fox Paws scarf.
And that is the difference between knitting and writing. I really don’t need outside validation of my knitting because the act itself is so enjoyable for me. Knitting makes me feel grounded. It also seems more readily appreciated than writing, I suppose because it’s visual and has texture. With my writing, I’m always looking for outside validation, someone to tell me that they really enjoyed my [fill in the blank]. Rarely do I read my own writing and feel as satisfied as I do with my knitting. At least, these days.
Meanwhile …
Recently we went to the Wolf Creek Trout Lily Preserve near Whigham, Georgia, about 35 miles from our home. I learned about the Preserve through another nature center. This Saturday (February 4), they opened for the season. As it was a cool, sunny day, I suggested to my husband that we take a drive up and look about.
Here are a few of the photos I took while there. We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.
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According to the Preserve:
[Trout lilies] are usually found in the Appalachian mountains. The theory is that they migrated from the mountains probably tens of thousands of years ago. When the last ice age receded they were left in some spots in southwest Georgia and north Florida, east of the Chattahoochee, Flint, and Apalachicola Rivers. Apparently the Wolf Creek spot is just right for them – a north facing slope of just the right angle, a hardwood forest with dappled sunlight in the winter, soils of just the right type and depth before underlying clay. Whatever the reasons, they prospered at the site, and Grady County is blessed with a beautiful marvel for all lovers of nature! It is definitely a photographer’s paradise!
I recommend visiting the website of Wolf Creek Trout Lily Preserve (click here for the link). They have lots of wonderful photos and information on their wildflowers.
So, what are your thoughts about writing and submitting? Do you feel you need to submit your writing to journals? Do you feel less of a writer if your list of publications is a lot shorter than other writers? Am I fussing about nothing?
A couple of months ago I signed up for SmokeLong Fitness Community Workshop. It’s all flash, all the time. I’ve since learned that I can write to prompts quite happily if I’m given an example of a response. My creative battery is apparently sparked by other people’s creativity. We’re given relatively small word counts (for example, less than 500 words), challenging us to make every word count. The word counts also make it manageable to read and comment on my group’s drafts.
I participated in September and October and am taking November and December off to work on my so-called novel. I do miss the community. Although we were put into different writing groups at the beginning of each month, each group quickly created a safe, supportive environment.
The other big thing I’ve done was write letters for Vote Forward. The organization provides the letter template and voter names and addresses. In turn, I provide a handwritten message encouraging the letter recipient to vote as well as envelopes, stamps, and the printer to print all the letters. (If you cannot afford to buy your own materials, Vote Forward has letter kits you can request.)
Based on their research, Vote Forward found that voters who receive these handwritten, personalized, and NONPARTISAN messages are more likely to vote. Yeah, I cannot encourage anyone to vote a certain way. Just. To. Vote. I managed to send out 250 letters on October 29 to voters in Florida and Pennsylvania.
My nicely packed box of letters encouraging people to vote.
Currently, Vote Forward has a call out for letters to Georgia. Guess I’ll have to participate in that too.
When not writing, I’ve been playing with photography. Although my husband knows I’m saving for an iPhone 14 (for its mega-megapixel camera), he’s given loaned me his last acquisition: a Lumix GX85. It’s smaller than the Canon T3i that I bought years ago and is fitted with a macro lens. The key is learning how to use it. In fact, he handed it over to me because he got impatient with trying to figure out how to use it. I have a steep learning curve with this one, but I’ve started playing around.
Below is a photo of an orb-weaver that has built a home between a corner of our house and a Sabal palm. This was taken with my iPhone 8 Plus, using the wide-angle lens, and is about the closest macro shot I can get with good detail.
An orb-weaver fixing up his/her web.
Now here is the same spider with the Lumix:
Spin little orb-weaver, spin it, spin it.
Obviously closer, but still not as detailed as I’d like.
But I’m working on it. The next two photos were also taken with the Lumix. I edited them slightly.
Macro of one of many Georgia Asters blooms.
Camilla from a neighbor’s tree (or bush … it’s pretty big so … tree).
Finally, here are a couple of photos I took of the Blood Moon with my iPhone and my husband’s big-ass binoculars.
First shot of Blood Moon on Election Day.
The Total Lunar Eclipse, or Blood Moon rising on Election Day.
I’m really not a morning person, but given that we could see the moon from our driveway, I got up with my husband at about 4:30 AM to watch the eclipse and take photos.
This brings me to the other “thing” that’s been going on with me: my chronic neck pain. It was pretty bad a few weeks ago, enough to send me to the chiropractor for treatment and guidance. During the next two-and-a-half weeks I applied a heating pad to my neck for 20 minutes several times a day and did stretching exercises. I also tried an assortment of anti-inflammatory drugs and CBD salve with mixed results. Trial and error. Finally, we got me to a point where my pain has lessened and my range of motion has improved, but I’m not 100%. In all likelihood, I will never be 100%. This isn’t “woe is me.” Now that the worst is over, I can always say it could be worse.
What I need to do–besides taking NSAIDs intermittently and applying heat and stretching regularly–is avoid activities that aggravate my arthritis. Activities like looking through my husband’s big-ass binoculars at the Blood Moon or working too long at my computer. I have to remind myself to take a lot of breaks … something I’m not really good at.
And, last but not least, I’m still grieving. Some days I’m okay. Maybe I can say most days I’m okay but as I type this, I feel the tears start to well up. Writing helps somewhat and since my last blog post, I’ve written two more essays about my sister for my publication on Medium: