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Reunion time.

When last I posted, I was preparing for the reunion. It’s over now.

Many thanks to Kate

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and Ernie, our gracious hosts. Ernie brought beer that he brewed. It was fantastic and how cool is it that he inadvertently named one after me? (It’s not the first time I’ve been described as “toasty”)

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A group of us went to see the Essex Theatre Company’s production of “The Birds.” It was such fun to walk back up the hill and discuss the plot and motives. The cast party was at the schoolhouse so I got to touch base with Ted Cornell (the designer, director, and “Tierney) and Kathryn Cramer (the dramaturg) and to meet Martha Swan and Rob Farkas.

There was an excursion to swim.

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Croquet.

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Flights and corn hole at the Ausable Brewing Co.

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Paper flower making.

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And many, many meals

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and conversations

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and laughter.

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Rachael and I had a lovely chat across from this embroidered coverlet that hung in the room Husband and I shared.

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Once home, I went to both nights of “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” tryouts. I have no idea if I got a part. The director said one of my readings invoked guilt in him, which – I think – was a compliment. I spent several lovely hours visiting with Nina Fosati at her home. Husband and I had a fantastic early supper with Bob and Teresa at Julie’s. And today, I hit the shops before three when the car had to go back.

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Today was the last bit of the “vay-cay” where I sadly turned in the rental. I hated that car but loved the bit of freedom it provided. Now all thoughts are on finishing up the revision, preparing for the reading I’m hosting in October and freaking out over how badly I did at the audition. Real life is such fun!

Thanks for stopping by and the read!

 

(*These are my creekside reflections. Your experiences ought to vary.)

Apologizes for my tardiness, but I have fantastic excuses. The first is that the rewrite is going well so I’ve been focusing on that, but the biggest focus has been figuring out the details of our trip to Essex for the family reunion. The car rental is reserved, tickets for the play we’ll be seeing while we’re there are bought, and a cat sitter has been found. Now I’m down to packing, making pasta salad for 40 and cleaning the house before we leave. Piece of cake.

Yesterday there was a tornado in Hamburg. I didn’t know if I’d be able to make it to Tamara Grisanti’s place for her soy candle party, but I did and it was lovely. Iced Lemon Biscotti and Beach Linen were the two Hemlock House candles I bought and would recommend to everyone. We also got to sample some masculine scents that Tamara’s husband created for a bachelor party. I hope they make more of those soon. Kim Chinquee was there, too, and now I have a copy of Veer that will be traveling with me.

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There’s a novel critique group coming up and I’m psyched to see Mary Akers and Gina Detwiler again. It’s been too long! Tonight, I’ll be at Comfort Zone for the Hamburg Writers’ Group. Last week, I had the truck and spent time across the street at SPoT Coffee writing two new flashes. Yes, I’m back to being active in Hot Pants on Zoetrope.

Also, I want to say I was so happy to finally accept my first piece for Literary Orphans as Fiction Editor. Congratulations Tara Isabel Zambrano! Her stunning piece, Measurable Hours, will be in the September Issue.

Gardenwise, the hydrangea is blooming

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and the yellow flowers that attract so many different types of bees are opening up.

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Writing is a strange process. The more time I don’t have time to write, I write more. A friend of mine was lamenting that he’d just been given a chunk of time and space to do nothing but write and he’s written next to nothing. I’m thinking about ordering him a candle from Hemlock House so the amazing scents will reawaken his imagination.

 

Thanks for stopping by!

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(*These are my creekside reflections. Your experiences will vary.)

Well, here it is 6 July 2017 and from the looks of things, my life isn’t much different from the last time I posted. Book revisions are ongoing, I’m still looking for stories in the Literary Orphans queue to accept, and the kitchen is still a mess. In reality, progress was made and good times were shared.

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This is the state of the shelving. The trays are made, the glides in place, and I’ve given the cat several rides in and out. She likes it, I swear! We ended up on a road trip to PA in order to plane the maple for the fronts and got to spend time with Husband’s Twin and Amazing Rachael who’d cleaned and painted before we got there. Did I take pictures there? No. Once we left, we were off to the Tuttle’s for a tent raising good time and I got to see Alana for the first time. Do I have pictures of that? No. What I do have pictures of are these gorgeous flowers and limited data left, so please excuse this truncated post and remember, I think you’re awesome for stopping by for the read. Cheers!

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*These are my creekside reflections. Yours ought to vary.

Kudos to the wondrous Kathy Fish for hosting the Fast Fiction Reunion on Zoetrope this weekend. I met some wildly talented writers and had a blast. Plus, I wrote two new flashes. Yeah! It hasn’t been that long since I finished a piece, but it feels that way. Now, if I could just make time to submit…

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I’m in the middle of a minor kitchen project and when I say “I,” I mean Husband is doing the work and I’m coping with the displacement of things so of course this morning, Allison suggests coming round to drop off the “appreciation gift.” My life resembles a sit-com at times.

I’m honing “Near Eden, New York,” based on great suggestions from Nina, Mary, and Gina, plus my own thoughts after leaving it alone for a few months. My synopsis needs work, too. Being a writer is such fun, let me tell you. But I do take time to enjoy the roses.

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Literally. This is the sight that greets me on my way out the door.

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Sadly, the peonies are already waning.

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The bulbs that I can’t remember the names of are thriving in these days before the official start of summer. I hope you’re enjoying your time, no matter what you’re doing. As for me, I’ll be diving back into Tara and Pete’s story. It’s a lovely place to be.

Thanks for stopping by and the read!

 

 

(These are my creekside reflections. No sense getting worked up about them if they don’t agree with yours.)

In case you missed it, I am Fiction Editor at Literary Orphans now!!! This thrills me like you wouldn’t believe. I thank Scott, Mike, and Brittany for being such wonderful people to work with and willing to let me join the next tier. And as I assured Mary, I will remain in my position at r.kv.r.y., too.

The Blueshift Journal published “Our Mother’s Memoir was Published Posthumously. On Purpose.” Oye, I’m so glad. The original version was written on 4/16/11. I worked on it occasionally and earlier this year got a higher tier rejection from Vestal Review. I looked at it again, tweaked it and boom! Six years later, acceptance.

And while that is a tale of not giving up, I admit that I did give up on this lilac bush. I planted it at least 5 years ago and nothing. I quit weeding around it, neglected it, really. Yesterday, it caught my eye.

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Gorgeous, isn’t it? And it smells great.

I nervously sent my pages to Mary and Gina. Nervous because “Sweet Spot” was part of it and in an earlier chapter I’d mentioned how badly written most sex scenes are so I was basically setting myself up for comparison to that and if I didn’t nail it, if it wasn’t right, organic, plausible, good, I feel the whole book would have failed. It worked. There were a few (very few) comments on that part so, now I have the confidence to proceed with the rewrite.

So here’s to more reading and writing!

6.1.2017

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The Columbine and Iris are in bloom and even after all this rain, the tomato plants are in the garden. On a deeply personal note, Husband and I have made it another year so happy 17th anniversary to the man who never reads this blog unless I print it out.

Have a lovely day.

Thank you for stopping by and reading.

Remember, you are a great person!

Cheers!

(*These are my Creekside reflections. Your experiences may vary.)

Tuesday night was the School election and my last day as a school board member. For now. Good luck and best wishes to Jessica Schuster and David Meiss. There was an executive session to go over the superintendent’s review. I stayed to soak in the mad dash vote aftermath where everything was collected while the vote was being tabulated behind a flimsy screen. Candidates would walk over to the partition and try to listen in. Such fodder.

And why the vote is being done in the Atrium is beyond me. I took Husband to vote after he got back from Canada. We pulled into solid waste chaos with smoke bellowing out of chicken truck, students running to their parent’s vehicles from the atrium, and few places to park. Inside, you had to push through people in the tiny vestibule to get to the atrium. Doors were wide open and students were wandering around the polling place. Getting out of there was even harder. This amount of a cluster-poop never happened when the vote was in the Media Center – save for the vote against the new gym when everyone came out to vote HELL NO, and even then, it was adults crammed into the space, not students mixing with adults.

Husband left for Canada on Thursday morning and returned Tuesday afternoon. The house stayed clean while he was away – so much so that when Vikki called to say she was coming up on Wednesday, it worked out perfectly since Husband couldn’t mess up the house much in one evening. She brought a swarm trap, we took a walk, had quiche and fruit salad. It was a great visit even though the morning started dramatically when the cat had a long seizure on our bed. After, I brought her down to my chair. I was upstairs picking out a blouse when she howled again. I made it down in time to keep her from rolling off the chair. That one wasn’t as bad, nor as long. The rest of the day was filled with lessening tension and length of episodes. Fun, fun.

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(Swarm trap)

I split the fuchsia today, moved the tomato cages out of the way and admired the lilac that Betty gave us years ago and this year bloomed prettily.

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The wisteria survived the odd winter.

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As did this purple flower I planted and forgot its name.

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Ah well, every year is a new adventure in gardening and yard upkeep. Blooming lovely problems to have, aye? And I’m grateful for every single one. Thanks for stopping by!

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*These are merely my creekside reflections. If you were here, you’d have other ones. But you’re not. Visit when you can. Cheers!

Once again, I started this blog post only to discover I could write most of an essay without thinking about it. I don’t know if I’ll finish this one—I haven’t looked back at the last one yet. That’s out of laziness, not fear. This latest assemblage of words scares me a bit since I’d be unmasking a “truth.” Sigh. I don’t know. I suppose I should write it, try to find it a home, explain —like in most essays— that we, as humans, are less different than we suppose.

I had a bit of niceness writing wise. The editor at The Journal let me know that my story “Anum Cara” went far in the process but ultimately didn’t make the cut. The nicer part being that he genuinely seemed interested in me sending more work. What I have plans to do is pull up that story, look at it again and send it out. If it was close for a venue that sports a 1.09% acceptance rate on Duotrope, the odds are in its favor to be accepted somewhere. It worked for “Our Mother’s  Memoir was Published Posthumously. On Purpose.” Mark Budman at Vestal Review gave it a “good” rejection and the next time I pulled the story up, I changed a few words and sent it off and BOOM. It will be up in Blueshift Journal #7 soon.

The days of Board of Education duties are soon to be over and then it’s back to audience member for me. Whatever will I do with my free time – other than read books that I choose instead of Alison Duwe’s choices? Well, there is the revision of “Near Eden, New York,” which “Anum Cara” is a chapter of, to complete. Luckily, it’s in fairly good shape so knock on mahogany that won’t be a horrible slogging mess. I could be wrong though. Nina Fosati sent two pieces last night with the lament, “Are they ready? I can’t tell anymore,” and those were for short stories. Mary Akers is going through the same thing with changing the point of view in “The Belongers.” Sure, writing is rewriting but where does one get the gumption? If you hear of a sale, please let me know.

Otherwise, it’s been rainy outside. I need to pull out the tulip and crocus bulbs and plant the lilies I just got. The neighbors would probably appreciate it if the lawn got mowed—at least the roadside yards—but eh, it’s too wet and I don’t care about property values at the moment. It isn’t like anyone drives by to consider moving here. The road is in piss-poor shape and there are no new businesses to attract people to the area. Well, these two were attracted to our property. Probably because of the lack of traffic on the road.

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Thanks for stopping by!

 

*These are my Creekside Reflections. Your experience may vary.