Tiny Tuesday!


In April of 2020, I posted about this idea I found: The Coping Skills Toolbox. I shared the above photo of the box I put together to help me with quarantine anxiety (not only was the world gripped by a pandemic with no preventative medication and few effective treatments for some populations, including my own, but I was laid off from my job of six years due to the pandemic).

Looking back at that post reminds me that I’ve been forthright on this site for at least the last four years about how anxiety has been a lifelong struggle for me. I was prescribed medication for it when I was eighteen that I never used. In 2022, I was prescribed medication on an as-needed basis, which I used very little of. I will occasionally take medication to help me sleep.

Medications are rarely my first option. What I have to take for my physical health, I take. But I’ll always try to manage anxiety in other ways. This is not in any way a judgment about people who manage their physical and emotional health through medication. For a variety of reasons, it’s simply not my first choice.

I still have that “toolbox.” I’ve long-since rewatched the comfort movies and reread the comfort novels that were in it, so they’re no longer in there. It still holds my Magnetic Poetry Journal that I sometimes put poems in, along with the magnetic board I can use to arrange words. It still holds a small coloring book and two tins of coloring pencils. The toys–Superman, Batman, and the tiny plastic cars–are still in there. The bottle of bubbles is not.

After looking at the book I often use as ideas for my Tiny Tuesday posts (shown above, on the right), I decided to add to the box again because of two things I found listed in the book.


This morning, I added my Magnetic Poetry Haiku Kit and a movie. I don’t know if Sliding Doors is a classic at twenty-six years old, but it’s a comfort movie for me. I watched it earlier, and it inspired the haiku I created which is now written in the journal, too. As you can see from my photo below, all the words I wanted weren’t available to me, so I added them to the photo. The haiku goes with the theme of the chapter I’ll be writing when I can get my brain directed that way again.


There is a quote from the movie that’s one of my favorites, when one of the characters says, “I’m a novelist. I’m never going to finish the book.”

Hope you’re all having a good Tuesday and being kind to yourselves.

Sunday Sundries

This is a continuation of last week’s post, suggested by Mark L, wherein I’m sharing photos of the physical bookmarks I’ve found around the house. As I was looking for something on my bookshelves after I did the first post, I realized I have books with bookmarks still in them. I thought it would be fun to share those, too. I’m starting with those found on the library shelves. Next week I’ll go to the living room shelves and be finished with this particular sundries subject. Unless I get more bookmarks. =)

I ordered this book back in April as explained in this post.

I don’t remember why I might have been rereading or referencing Browning’s “My Last Duchess” (a favorite poem), but that’s where I found another Murder By The Book bookmark on that page with the poem’s delightful illustration. Appropriate bookmark! If you aren’t familiar with the poem, the speaker had his “last duchess” murdered. It’s the kind of thing a duke leaves off his online dating accounts. Duchess wannabes, you have been warned.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then I spotted a bookmark in the second volume of Proust’s Remembrance Of Things Past, reminding me where I left off. And that I left off, and when the heck do I intend to finish reading this and the third book? Who knows, but Half Price Books will be happy to alert me, the next time I glance toward that shelf, that I’m on page 80, and time’s a’wastin’.

Ralph Waldo Emerson looks none too pleased with me. Is it because I haven’t read my Proust, or is it because of the bookmark tucked into his book on page 30?

It’s an advertisement for Lisa Alther’s novel Original Sins. I suspect the very serious Emerson knows that’s not a treatise on the concept of original sin, but hey, it’s probably not as racy as Alther’s first novel I read, Kinflicks. Count your blessings, Ralph.


I’m hoping Henry David Thoreau is not as upset about the bookmark I found in his tome. At least it has a somewhat more religious theme, with references to Psalms and Proverbs. I think this bookmark came from my mother, and the full text is, Becky, “Close To God,” “…Thou art my God, and I will praise thee,” Psalm 118:28,” and “A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches…” Proverbs 22:1.


The quote marked on that page is most likely because it was cited in a lecture in a college class (RIP, Dr. Beidler, who changed my life in so many ways): “However mean your life is, meet it and live it; do not shun it and call it hard names. It looks poorest when you are richest. The fault finder will find faults even in paradise. Love your life, poor as it is…” Thoreau would no doubt be pleased that I take this to heart. I do love and appreciate my life. I might fault-find technology, but I suspect the original Mr. Live Off The Grid might be of a similar disposition.


This copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass was a gift from old LiveJournal pal and composer Jeff Funk. It’s full of index cards with notes made by him referencing certain passages. The first card reads, “Becky, if you’re ever feeling caught up in chaos, I hope these beautiful words will bring you comfort. All my best, Jeff Funk, 12/18/09.” I often take dives into Whitman, and one of my long-term goals is to take a free online course on Leaves of Grass. I have several copies, but this one will always be special thanks to Jeff.

I also spotted something sticking out of the pages of the biography Virgina Woolf, by Hermione Lee. I’ve mentioned on here before that I’ve never finished this biography. It’s not from lack of interest and it’s no reflection on the biographer, I simply forget about it, despite recurring reminders of Woolf (just this week, Timmy posted a drawing on Instagram from his sketchbook with Woolf as his subject).

As Jim always says before he visits us and we talk about movies he wants to watch with us, meals he wants to eat with us, and places he wants to see with us, “Put it on the list.” Coincidentally, what was the perfect “bookmark” of what page I’m on?  Two photos sent by Jim, one of Jim, one of his ex (I don’t show that one because I didn’t ask permission of the ex. Jim, on the other hand, is used to me sharing images of him on this site). No idea how long ago these photos were taken, but I think he’s at his family’s cabin, and I like that he’s in front of books. Holding what appears to be a glass of wine. What a distinguished gentleman!

ETA: I don’t know how I missed this photo when I created this entry. I was riveted by this Joan Ashby novel and definitely finished it. I don’t think the bookmark is there to note any particular passage, but I’m sure it’s from Brazos bookstore because I bought the book there and used it while I was reading. (It’s a long novel.)  Wolas has only two published novels. As soon as there are more, I’ll read them.

Saturday is for chilling

I haven’t had the greatest week thanks to my old companions insomnia and headaches, but it also hasn’t been a bad week. I stopped berating myself for all the things I couldn’t do and opted for a little more passive entertainment than usual. I used Netflix for the first time in quite a while and watched a movie I’d wanted to see, Good Grief, which was sad and funny and treated me to a lot of Paris scenes. I always appreciate tucking that ambiance away for when I write the France/French parts of the Neverending Saga.

I also watched a good documentary on Canadian record producer, film composer, music executive David Foster. I was reminded of something I want to do in the chapter I’ve been trying to work on for over a month. I DO work on it, and then I delete. Write. Delete. Repeat. Hopefully, I’ll be back to writing without deleting it all soon.

Since Tom and I had finished watching the final season of “The Crown” (it was so, so sad), we decided to start the new season of “Bridgerton.” I was right back in that world immediately, so I got out the Bridgerton coloring book I bought back in 2021. I think I may have previously colored only one page from it, but this was a good week to do more. Coloring is my go-to when I need to zone out or feel better.

By tonight, we were down to three episodes, so we went for it and binge-watched them. I think this may be my favorite story arc of all the seasons (this was the third regular season, and there was additionally “Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story,” which I also really enjoyed). I look forward to more seasons.


Although the pages from this book were inspired by the first season, they still capture the Bridgerton vibe. The one above I chose as an homage to Penelope, who this season shunned the “citrus” fashions her mother had always imposed on her. I colored her in more subtle colors than she wore in earlier seasons.

I also chose to color a room with a piano in honor of Francesca’s storyline this season.

Photo Friday, No. 915

Current Photo Friday theme: Wildflowers


You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere you feel free

–Tom Petty

I don’t have many wildflowers in my yard right now, but pictured are some tiny ones to go with a flag to celebrate International Pride Day in the USA. The last time I did a LGBTQ+ themed post on Instagram, I lost followers. I don’t keep up with who follows me, but if that made anyone unfollow me, it doesn’t feel like a loss. I’ve never made a secret of my role as an ally.

For as long as it takes for this meme to be obsolete and beyond.

ETA: The amount of hate I’ve seen directed at anyone who dares to post something positive about Pride or LGBTQ+ awareness confirms that allies MUST NOT be silent.

Thunder and dogs


Yesterday, we had a somewhat mild rainstorm. I couldn’t hear a lot of thunder, but that picture shows yet another branch that fell and was caught between the divided trunk of one of the trees that lost several large branches in May’s big storm. I didn’t think it was that windy yesterday.

Another “gift” from last month’s storm is the recurring anxiety it’s caused Delta and Anime (Jack less so) whenever we’ve had thunderstorms since. I have a video of Anime’s reaction to thunder a couple of weeks ago that would break your heart. Delta reacts similarly.

In anticipation of there being two weekends surrounding the July 4 holiday, and knowing well the Texan obsession with fireworks, we talked to Anime’s and Delta’s vets (they have two different doctors) about their anxiety. They were both prescribed anti-anxiety meds. Yesterday was a trial run of that, when both got stressed over thunder. It took a bit for the meds to take effect, but they really made a difference. Delta found one of her favorite spots and mostly slept. Anime was a little more active, but I caught her standing at the dogs’ water dispenser, just staring at it, looking pretty much the way I do when I walk into the kitchen and wonder, Why did I come in here? In my case, that’s just a common symptom of being older. In Anime’s case, I felt sure she was stoned and wondering why the water was in a cooler and not a bong.


Copyright: ©RetroAnimals.

Mindful Monday

Leap, 2006, acrylic on canvas

It was back in May of 2019 when I made the decision to start rewriting a novel I’d last written in the late 1980s/early to mid 1990s. It had a single title (it was the first of a series of three novels) and was nearly 600 pages long (that is way too many pages). My plan was to edit it down to an actual publishable length.

I randomly split the stack of manuscript pages, read a few, and immediately decided that was a bad idea. The writing was nothing like the style or voice my writing had evolved into by the time my other novels were published in the 2000s. My distaste for what I read wasn’t only because of a difference between the style compared to the style of the published books. I just didn’t like what I read.

But those characters had been resurfacing in my consciousness for a while. I can see proof in a lot of my posts in the months prior to that decision to rewrite–the way the most random topics would lead me back to remembering those people and their stories. As I finally said here in 2019, I wanted to know how the decades of changes in me would impact how I would change them. In order not to be influenced by the past version, I packed the manuscript away unread and began my novel in an entirely different way. I never looked back.

As I’ve admitted repeatedly, I didn’t edit that old book down to publishable size. I stopped imposing rules on it. Rules are for publishing houses and their marketing and publicity. I’m not seeking that. I’m writing… because I have to. Even if it’s for the two readers I have. [I’ve tried other readers. That hasn’t worked out well for me so far. I have to rise above the insecurity and doubt other people’s reactions or even indifference cause me so that I can keep writing. This isn’t easy. Writers crave readers.]

Once again, the book was getting TOO LONG. I split the new manuscript into three books. I’m now on the seventh. In each new novel, refreshers are needed relating to plot and characters, but I try to do those in a variety of ways that aren’t tedious for a reader.

Recently, I reached a point when I questioned why the plot unfolded as it did for these people in the old version. I know what motivates them now, but things are a lot different. So what motivated them back then?

A few days ago, I pulled this out again.

I read it first page to last. It was startling how different things are between that old version and the one I’m writing now. I can barely recognize these people. In the decades in which I first conceived them, I was either a teenager smitten by music and musicians, or I watched a lot of daytime TV, plus prime time TV offered dramas like “Dallas,” “Dynasty,” and “Falcon Crest.” Many bestselling novels of those decades were from Jacqueline Susann, Sidney Sheldon, Judith Krantz, Jackie Collins, Harold Robbins, and Danielle Steel, among others. That genre was referred to as glitz, and I suppose because I was writing about people with money, ambition, and fame, I thought I had to write something similar to that style.

I think that old novel fails not because I was writing outside my life experience, but because I was writing outside what I regard as my authentic storytelling voice. So what the heck ever, whether I have two readers or twenty or none, I hope I’m doing all the things listed on the above quote from Mary Lou Cook. I love these people and their flaws, mistakes, virtues, depth, humor. I break a few rules with them. I’m fine with that.

I write for my characters. I write for me. (We are not the same.)