Another post with comments turned off. It’s not like I don’t want to hear from anyone. It’s like I’m going to be more off-the-grid than on-the-grid for the next couple of weeks.
When I’m fully back online, I promise I’ll turn comments back on, and we can have a chat. In the meantime, enjoy these pretty flowers that are blooming by my mailbox.
Hello, everyone,
I’m taking a break from my never-ending, might-never-finish novel to share a review of Kevin Brennan’s latest novel, The Prospect. First, I need to acknowledge that I did receive an advanced copy of this wonderful novel. But I also bought the Kindle version. Just sayin’.
As you might guess from the title of this post, the novel has to do with baseball. But, there’s a twist. In this case (and this is not a spoiler), one of the characters is not your average wanna-be Big Leaguer. He is a phenomenon, what scout Bud Esterhaus would call “the living unicorn of a ballplayer.” The twist is that he is a she.
Are you a baseball fan? Do you lapse into what some might consider a foreign language when discussing America’s national pastime? I’m not, and I don’t. In fact, I know zip about baseball. But you don’t have to know baseball to become engrossed in this story of a young woman who wants to play in the big leagues with the big boys.
The story is told through Bud Esterhaus, a divorced late-middle-aged man whose real mistress was not the Elaine that his wife eventually found out about. No, although Bud argues that Elaine was his wife’s tipping point, the real wedge in their marriage, as well as in his relationship with his son, was Baseball, with a capital B. In bold, 42-point font.
In The Prospect, Bud discovers Joe Carpenter, a slim, small player who, as a military veteran at 26, is considered a bit old for the minor leagues, but that will be the least of Bud’s problems with Joe. From the book blurb, you, the reader, know that Joe is really a woman, but no one else does, which is one of the reasons why this novel is a nail-biting page-turner. Jo aka Joe manages to keep her secret for a good long while with Bud twisting himself into knots to accommodate her “eccentricities.”
What I’d never seen was a player who apparently didn’t want to be seen in any degree of undress. In a place where there’s literally nothing to be ashamed of, never taking off your clothes is bound to arouse suspicion.
I wasn’t above spreading that war-wound idea around. But I wasn’t about to ask Joe either.
When she does slip up and Bud learns of her deception, both the reader and Bud are already committed to this “living unicorn.” We’re all in, and the tension shifts from how long can Jo keep her secret to how long Bud and Jo can keep her secret. One thing to keep in mind, and I found this to be a fascinating part of the novel, is how often people see only what they want to see or expect to see.
Jo and Bud have a number of close calls, adding to the tension of the story and to Bud’s already high stress level. According to Bud, Jo is an “innocent”:
Not so much naive. Just innocent. There’s a difference. To me, a naive girl trying to play pro ball was putting herself at enormous risk but didn’t know it. Jo, the innocent, knew what the stakes were but was going to rely on her brains and her skills to get by. Her innocence was to be found in how she believed it completely possible.
I came to think of Jo as both naive and innocent. She knew what the stakes were and definitely believed in her own smarts and skills to succeed, but to believe she could maintain the deception indefinitely seemed naive. And selfish. She was 26 years old with military experience, yet Jo Carpenter didn’t consider the impact of her secret on others. It was a dream of hers to play pro. She was going to try and make it happen without regard for who got hurt. Bud was putting his own career on the line by helping her, but she never seemed to truly understand the risk he was taking. It wasn’t that Jo didn’t care about Bud. She does, in fact, come to care deeply about him. Still, it’s all about her.
In a way, Bud has the same problem. Bud is all about baseball and finds it nearly impossible to reconcile the fact that his son couldn’t care less about it. Bud does acknowledge that not every boy will grow up to love baseball, but he couldn’t meet Stan even halfway while he was growing up. Bud loved the game and–without regard for who got hurt–he put the game ahead of his family. Bud and Jo needed to find each other and go through this coming-of-age experience together. With Jo, Bud got to experience the kind of bond he had wanted with his son. She validated his need and his ability to be a father.
In turn, Jo got the guidance she needed, not just in how to play ball, but also in how to play Life. When someone believes in you, like Bud believes in Jo, everything seems “completely possible.”
When I get frustrated with a character, when I want to argue with them, that’s a pretty good indication that I’m deep in the story. I’m hooked. Plenty of times I was frustrated with Bud or Jo or both at the same time. But there were more times when I was cheering them on or commiserating with them. Brennan draws his characters so vividly that you believe they could walk off the page and into your life. With these characters, I’d also expect them to grab some beer and drag me to a baseball game. And I’d go with them … happily.
I know zip about baseball, but I know when a writer has hit one out of the park. Kevin Brennan has done just that with The Prospect.
Get your copy now at Amazon: The Prospect
Today is the last day of April and that alone puts me in a good mood. I’ve spent most of this month working on my current work-in-progress, my novel Clemency. I’m happy to say that I exceeded my goal of reading and revising 100,000 words. But I am not done. More needs to be added, chapters and scenes need to be rearranged, and transitions need to be finessed. But I am so much further along than I thought I would be at this point. That brings me some joy.
Also this month I underwent a procedure for my arthritic neck. It had been scheduled for May 6, but (yay for me), the doctor needed to reschedule, and I was able to have it done on April 21. I was very relaxed during the procedure thanks to Valium and the other drowsy-making drug I can never remember. The staff and my doctor were wonderful. However, when I came home, I immediately went to my bed (practically crawling) and then slept for four hours. I didn’t expect to be so out-of-it, as if I was just coming out of major surgery.
I suspect the relaxants plus the local anesthetic used to numb the injection site combined to knock me out. My husband has been disappointed that I haven’t yet experienced the steroid high that he experienced when he had a shot in his lumbar region a few years ago. Me too, but I can say that, although the right side of my neck still cramps occasionally, causing me pain, it’s been less frequent. I can now go many hours without thinking about my neck at all.
There’s still time for the steroid to kick in, but if it doesn’t, it likely means that my doctor missed the spot. Oh, well. It was still worth it.
In other news … Merril D. Smith’s first collection of poetry River Ghosts has been published by Nightingale & Sparrow. Don’t you just love this cover?!
And Kevin Brennan’s new novel The Prospect will be available starting tomorrow, May 1. You guessed it! The novel has something to do with baseball.
Stayed tuned for my reviews of these two books. In the meantime, I leave with this, perhaps my most favorite of all my bumblebee-and-thistle photos.
Comments are closed because I need to get back to work.
Psst … I’m alive, as busy as a bumblebee on a thistle.
For those of you reading this on April 1, it’s already tomorrow. If you’re reading this later, well … just know that there’s nothing April foolish about this.
The good folks at NaNoWriMo.org host a virtual writing camp every April and July. Since I was successful in adding 50,000+ words of content to my novel-in-progress (you can read about that here), I’ve decided to make April my novel finishing month. Leave it to NaNoWriMo to have a banner for that.
Wish me luck. I’ll need it.
In the meantime, I won’t be blogging unless I go on another bike ride (which I will) and snap some photos to share (which I might). If you can’t wait for my next post or you just love reading about my bike rides, I recently published an essay on Crow’s Feet: Why I Want to Ride My Bicycle. I explain why, despite (or to spite) the aches and pain I experience while riding, I keep getting back in the saddle.
Meanwhile … here’s a nice surprise at the corner of our garage where there used to be a cluster of trees.
Now that this side of the house is getting sun, we’re getting pretty flowers.
I leave you with the usual suspects.
The situation went down like this.
Junior (the gray one with the white cravat): “Hey, it wasn’t me, Mom. I was just lying here, minding my own business when the Orange Terror jumped up beside me.”
Raji aka Orange Terror: “I didn’t do nuthin’! I swear!”
As usual, I (Mom) just laughed and took the photo.
See y’all in May.
Hello, everyone. Gee, I feel like I should re-introduce myself since my blogging has been on the down-low lately. But, yeah, I don’t really want to do that. While my blog is about me, it’s not entirely about me. Take from it what you will.
Firstly, there is better living through drugs. The Gabapentin I was prescribed does seem to reduce my neck pain to a more manageable level. I’m still trying to get away with as minimal a dosage as possible, mainly because I don’t like being drug-dependent, but then there is that quality-of-life thing to think about. Case in point: one of the “side effects” of Gabapentin is it reduces anxiety. To feel less anxious and more calm seems hard to come by naturally these days.
Although I don’t want to be drug-dependent, I’ve also started taking Excedrin first thing in the morning. The dosages of acetaminophen and aspirin do not reduce any of my arthritic pain (although it did do wonders when I recently had one of the worst headaches of my whole life). The caffeine does get me a slight boost when coupled with my morning tea, but here’s the real reason I take it: My 98-year-old mother has been taking Excedrin regularly for years. We had a little conversation about that.
Mom: “I got up about five-thirty and took an Excedrin and went back to bed. Then I was got up again and I took another.”
Me: “Why? Did you have a headache?”
Mom: “No, I just like taking Excedrin.”
Me: ?
Mom: “You know I don’t drink coffee.”
Me: “Oh. So, instead of having a cup of coffee in the morning, you take an Excedrin.”
Mom: “Yes, yes, I guess I do.”
Did I mention that not only is my mom 98, but she’s also the healthiest one in our family? Some might argue that there’s no causal effect of Excedrin on my mother’s health, but I’m taking it anyway.
Before I go any further, I want to talk about Ukraine … just a bit. Here’s some good news about ways people are helping. Maggie from From Cave Walls recently shared three stories which you can read here: https://fromcavewalls.wordpress.com/2022/03/25/watwb-comes-to-an-end/ John Howell also shares a heartwarming story along with a spot-on haiku here: https://johnwhowell.com/2022/03/25/friday-john-ku-aka-tgif-fri-yay-good-news-2/
Another source of support is coming from book publishers:
The Ukrainian Book Institute, now with the support of the Federation of European Publishers and the Bologna Children’s Book Fair, has reiterated its request for help from the global publishing community to raise money to publish and distribute Ukrainian-language books for the several million refugees who have fled Ukraine after Russia’s invasion nearly a month ago. Donations can be made online.
Finally, friend and fellow blogger Luanne Castle has been sharing creative finds from Ukrainian sellers on Etsy. Etsy makes it easy to find beautiful downloadable art from Ukraine: https://www.etsy.com/featured/support-sellers-in-ukraine?slug=support-sellers-in-ukraine&ref=search_ukraine_collection
You know I love to knit so I was thrilled to find sock knitting patterns. Not only did I purchase a few patterns, but I think I made a friend. Vicky from DC13EcoFriendlyLife, located in Kharkiv, Ukraine, gifted me a free knitting pattern just because I bought a set of patterns from her.
Now the bike rides.
I went on two bike rides recently. One on my Peugeot road bike. It had been a long while since I was on that bike. I can only take it out on paved roads, not the rugged, rutty, stony, grassy trails of the refuge. So, after two days of steady rain, I jumped at the opportunity to go for a bike ride with my husband. We got a treat when we stopped at the St. Marks City Park.
According to my Merlin Bird ID app, these are “wild turkeys.” They didn’t seem wild to us as we were able to get very close to them. In fact, while we were admiring the birds, a hawk swooped down and startled all four of us. I imagine that, when he got close enough, the hawk realized that he couldn’t haul away a bird this size. But the drama was enough to make the birds head back to the safety of the trees.
On the way home from the bike ride, my husband (wanting to avoid rush hour traffic) suggested having dinner at the Wakulla Springs Lodge. We walked the grounds for a few minutes after dinner, enjoying the Golden Hour. I wish I had taken some photos but I only have this one:
A few days later, we went on another bike ride, this time to the St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. I am so grateful for that refuge. It really is a heaven on earth. Wildflowers, lilies, and thistles were in abundance. Enjoy!
Yes, indeed, I am excited about the future of Crow’s Feet, a publication on Medium. Crow’s Feet publishes poetry and essays on life as we age. I started writing for it a couple of years ago, and I’ve enjoyed watching it take off. Recently, I became a member of Crow’s Feet Social Media team, and I want to share our newest developments.
We now have a Crow’s Feet Facebook Group where we share stories from Crow’s Feet and discuss the many aspects of life as we age. You can ask to join the group by clicking here. You do not have to be of a certain age to join. We want to encourage readers and writers of all ages to participate in the group and to write for Crow’s Feet. We want to redefine aging to reflect the fact that getting older can be a positive and joyful experience.
Podcasting
A Crow’s Feet Podcast is also in the works. I’m not working on that team, but Crow’s Feet is looking for a volunteer who could do the post-production of the podcast. If you are familiar with the audio editing software Audacity, or with equalizing the audio, we want you on the team. Please contact us at crowsfeet8@gmail.com if you’re interested.
Writing Prompts
About twice monthly, Crow’s Feet will offer a writing prompt. The first one was on retirement. You can read my response at Retired But Not From Life.
Writing Prompt # 2 acknowledges International Women’s Day. We want to hear about the changes you have seen in the past 60+ years regarding women’s rights, their contributions to society, and the long road ahead. Click here to read the full prompt. Please be sure to include Prompt #2 in the subheading of your article and tag it “Crows Feet Writing Prompt.”
You will need to have a Medium account to write for Crow’s Feet, but you do not need to be a subscriber.
Whether you’re 25 wondering what life will be like at 50, or you’re 50 wondering what you need to do to prepare for retirement, or you’re 80 and happily checking off items on your bucket list, please join us in writing and reading Crow’s Feet stories.
I never thought I’d spend so much of my retirement complaining about pain, whether in my neck, knee, or shoulders. It’s disheartening at times, especially when I find myself not wanting to do things that I normally would want to do because of anticipated or current pain. But, there we are. Or, rather, here I am.
I saw an orthopedist this week to discuss the results of my cervical MRI. We were already a bit stressed about the visit since the forecast called for stormy weather, and it was dark and rainy on our way over. His office was in a new building, on the other side of the intersection from the old building, where once stood a field and trees. We were greeted at the entrance and guided to a bank of kiosks where I could check in. The kiosk looked like a standing weight scale, but it was instead a dedicated tablet atop a slender white pole. It took me at least ten minutes to poke my way through all the questions, most of which I had already answered via their web form and text link a day before.
My guide assisted me with scanning my health insurance card and credit card and surprised me by thanking me for my patience. She was sincere. I could only think that my mask was not just a protection from germs but also from people hearing my sotto voce ranting about all the questions I’d had to answer.
I liked Dr. C and his staff. Efficient, professional, and friendly. Dr. C went through my MRI images with me, pointing out the bulging discs and stenosis. He confirmed that the weird “pull” I sometimes feel on the right side of my neck and up the side of my face is a nerve being pinched. It’s like when you’re wearing a seat belt and you start to lean forward but the seat belt catches and holds you back. That’s the sensation at the right side of my neck. Then it’s like tentacles going up to my ear, along my jaw. A dull achy feeling that’s aggravated when I talk. Thankfully, this is intermittent pain.
The good news is no one is talking about surgery. That is not recommended. Dr. C believes I can manage this with medication and exercises. Guess what he prescribed me: Gabapentin! Both Greg and I burst out laughing when he asked if I was familiar with the drug. “Yes, I give it to my cats.” I didn’t give him the whole history, but Maxine was the first to be prescribed Gabapentin for her arthritis. Then Raji was given a prescription to reduce his anxiety before vet visits. (I also give it to him when I need to dose him with Revolution or trim his claws. He’s a strong, squirrelly cat, and the Gabapentin makes him a bit more compliant … heh heh.)
What I wanted more than anything, though, was a shot. I’d been living with this “achy, breaky” neck for over four years. I want to experience being pain-free again, at least for a little while. Dr. C was fine with that. He can give me a shot, but he’ll have to do it with a real-time x-ray to make sure he’ll be injecting in the right place. He said I would be given a local anesthetic, but he needed me to be awake and still during the procedure. He asked if I had any anxiety about that. My face (sans mask) must have given me away because, without waiting for an answer, he said he would prescribe me Valium to take an hour before the procedure. Woo-hoo! Valium again!
You know, I am having second thoughts about this. Why am I really having this procedure done? Well, firstly, it won’t be until May 6. That’s the earliest available slot. Secondly, I’ve got the Gabapentin which I’m taking once a day (so far). Thirdly, I’m afraid of needles.
So, why? Because I’m curious. I want to know what it’s like to go through the experience. The first epidural that Greg had for his back was life-changing. He felt better than he had in years. The second epidural, not so much, although he would say it was because the PA, not the doctor, administered it. I can’t reverse arthritis in my neck. I can only learn to manage it. The procedure is two months away. I have plenty of time to get myself ready for it.
Some mundane news: I went to the bullet journal workshop and really enjoyed it. The presenter was an enthusiastic young woman who shared slides of her own journal. It’s a much more simple concept than I thought it would be. Take any journal (ruled, dotted, or blank). Ideally, your journal pages should be numbered (they are with the Leuchtturm1917 journal that I bought for the workshop). The first four pages are your index which, for me, will become the most important part of the journal. The index is a list of those events, tasks, or ideas, and their corresponding page numbers, that you are tracking in your journal. In the next two pages, you log future events by month, followed by two pages where you list each day of the month (e.g., March) and any scheduled events on one page and a list of tasks you want to accomplish in that month on the next page. After that, you have your daily log. Ideally, the night before, I would note what I want to accomplish the next day, but I’m still in “looking back” mode.
Anyway, just getting the journal set up for March has shown me how I overtask myself. I always want to do too much in too short of time. Every day I review my list of tasks for March and see what I can cross out as not doable or (more importantly) not necessary.
The bullet journal is very flexible. Because you create an index with page numbers, you can add anything anywhere in your journal and always find it through the index. The reason why I have so many half-filled journals is that I always felt I had to be linear, I had to live and write in a straight line. Well, life is sloppy. I’m sloppy. So, here’s to a new way of journaling.
More mundane news: This week (before and after the storms), we had 15 trees taken down. Now, we love trees, but these were very tall, spindly pines and water oaks. You know, the kind likely to come crashing down during a hurricane. One pine tree did come crashing down a few years ago during Hurricane Hermine. Fortunately, nobody and no property were hurt as the tree fell onto our fence. Still, it came down at night, just a few feet away from our bedroom. Greg remembers the CRACK and CRASH very well.
The trees were all clustered on one side of our house, which had been built on the site of an old cow pasture. The day before the storm, the arborists took down all but one tree. The last tree was deeper into our yard, and the bucket guy was going to have to climb the tree and cut through bit by bit.
The crane sat like this for a whole day until the weather cleared enough for them to safely get back to work. The pine is the tallest tree in the above photo. They cut it down to about 20 feet so it can have a new life as a woodpecker pole. The arborist told us anything shorter and the woodpeckers won’t come.
We were impressed with how fast and skillful the arborists were. They had taken away the pine that came down during Hermine, and so we were happy to get their services again. Although I had to wonder about them allowing a dog to be in the driver’s seat.
Thank you for reading and putting up with my moaning and groaning. Please know that despite my quotidian aggravations, I believe that just being alive–here and now–is a gift, especially since I share my life with these three:
Yes, indeed, last week we ventured out to our favorite place: St. Marks National Wildlife Refuge. It was a beautiful day, and the moon again made an appearance. You might have to squint to see it in the below photo, but it’s there.
While out and about, we met an interesting guy who was hiking the Florida Trail. I wrote about the experience for Crow’s Feet, a Medium publication. You can read it here: Compelled by Grief, Compelled by Love. I’m not enamored of the title and wish I had spent more time tweaking it, but it does sum up what drives this particular person to hike hundreds of miles.
What I like best about biking in the afternoon is the light. The sun casts a golden glow along the treetops as we ride back toward the car.
I’m still going on my morning walks although I missed two mornings in a row this week: one because I went instead to a yoga class, and the other because I needed to pick up a CD of my MRI images. It was one of those little tasks peculiar to the medical-industrial complex that annoy me until I can complete it. The orthopedist that I’m scheduled to see in March wants it. Goodness. I am not sure why these facilities cannot share images as well as reports, but apparently, it’s still 1999 around here.
This morning I really had to drag myself outdoors, but once out there, I kept walking. I saw two red-shouldered hawks initiate a mating dance, but then they saw me. I can only imagine what curses flew through their raptor brains. They flew off separately, but in the same direction. Probably to find a more private tree.
Next, I saw a bluebird. Not a rare sighting around here, but this lovely guy hung out on a power line, giving me a few minutes to admire his orange and white breast, and then the breathtaking brilliant blue of his back and wings as he turned and flew off. No photos of hawks or bluebirds because I was too busy living in the moment.
I had lunch with a former coworker the other day. I hadn’t seen her face to face in almost two years. We were in that enviable group of 60-pluses and sent home to work early in the pandemic. I retired last March and hadn’t seen her at all since then. She still works with my former employer, and she filled me in on all the drama. Fortunately, she’s a person with a lot of interests so we also talked about knitting, cooking, traveling, gardening, and bicycling, in no particular order. She let me know–a few times–that they (the office) have money and, if I’m casting about for something to do, they’d love to hire me back on contract.
It’s a lovely boost to the ego to still be wanted, to know that a special group of people would want to work with me again.
My response, after ignoring the first couple of offers: “I know I’m retired, but I feel like there are not enough hours in the day to do all that I want to do.” That’s it. I’m not casting about for something to do. I’m casting about but for how to do what I want to do and still get enough sleep. To that end, I signed up for a free Bullet Journal Workshop at my local independent bookstore. I’m not sure if I really want to take the workshop, or if I just want an excuse to purchase one of the bundles being offered for use at the workshop: a Leuchtturm Journal (style of your choice), 5 Pastel Highlighters, 7 Colored Pen Pack, Letterpress Stamp Set and Ink. What do you think? Do I need another journal? More pens and highlights?
The workshop will be next Saturday so I still have a whole week to continue practicing procrastination.
In the meantime, here’s Wendy bathing and playing with her blanket, the same blanket in which she was brought home about 8 1/2 years ago.
Marie at 1 Write Way 