Tiny Tuesday!


From the book of Tiny Pleasures, I spotted this one:

When I did my recent book purge, I discovered that in the past, I had a tendency to grab whatever was handy to use as a bookmark (despite several posts this year featuring the abundance of bookmarks I own).

Here are a few of the things I found tucked into books I’m rehoming:


Three actual bookmarks: one with an inspirational saying, one from the Doris Day Animal League, to which I was a contributor long before I worked in animal rescue, and one with other state and Texas locations of Half Price Books.

Two business cards, one from the bookstore where I was employed as an assistant manager starting a few months after we moved to Houston, and one promoting The Deal and Three Fortunes In One Cookie, with contact information on the back.

A red ribbon decal that was probably part of a donation appeal from an HIV/AIDS-related organization.

A thank-you card from Amy after she spent a summer living on the second floor of our fifth Houston home (The Compound was our sixth, and Houndstooth Hall is our seventh; between our first and third, we spent the summer of 1990 living with Lynne and Craig. I guess we paid their hospitality forward with Amy; then here at the Hall, Lynne and Minute lived with us for a few weeks between homes). So many good friend memories.

I emailed Amy photos of the message she wrote inside the card, and we reminisced about those times. The envelope is postmarked September 1, 1994, when a postage stamp was 29 cents.

Sunday Sundries

Friday, I purged our living room bookcases. I set aside around 120 books to rehome.


A few are paperback cozies that I took to various Little Free Libraries in or near our neighborhood on Saturday. Do you spy Jack on the right in the above photo?

The rest, Tom will box and take to a reseller. I doubt I’ll get any money for them, but they need to move on to new readers. I listed the titles so that if Jim and Tim want me to hold any of them back for them, I will.


A lot of those books are nonfiction, particularly related to the early years of HIV/AIDS. Maybe if people had read some of them, they’d have a better understanding of so much that happened with COVID. It’s called “woke” to think we should learn what science, medicine, sociology, and human experience can teach us from our history. I think it’s funny that “woke” is used as a pejorative.

Mostly, there’s a lot of great fiction in those stacks. The ones I love most I’ve read more than once; they’re only collecting dust here. They deserve to find new readers.

I also needed the shelf space–too many books were crammed in. They’re better arranged now (still divided by genre, and the two bookcases on the right changed very little). Tom adjusted a couple of shelves to make them look more uniform. Here’s how they are now.

I know I need to do this for the library shelves, too, but those contain literature, classics, and books I know I won’t get rid of for the foreseeable future. There’s really not a lot to rehome.

Little Free Library visits on Saturday:

Easiest for me to get to, but it’s often full, so I mostly use it when I have a single book to drop.
This one isn’t in great shape, but those LFLs may need books even more.
A return visit from when I spotted it a few days ago, only this time, I left books.
I love “The Giving Tree” theme.
This is probably the LFL drop I use the most because I know the person who installed it.
Couldn’t resist leaving some good books at this Astros-themed LFL.

Saturday No. 1

I got a working DVD of 1998’s You’ve Got Mail with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan sometime last week. You may remember that I was watching my previous DVD version and it got to a halfway-ish point in the movie and stopped working. I think it was because there was some kind of tie-in between AOL, Microsoft, and the DVD, and it would play only on a computer with a certain version of Microsoft Windows that was released in 1997. Which is kind of funny, because 1997 is when I got my first Windows-based PC (before that, I’d only had Apple/Mac products). If I still had that computer, I probably could have watched the DVD.

The reason we got that computer was because I was reeling from several years’ losses of friends to AIDS, and my friend Lisa Y had, on a whim one day on a contract job we had, showed me how to access chat rooms. Tom said AOL was known for its chat rooms, so if we got a PC and loaded AOL on it, maybe I could find an AOL chat room with supportive people who’d experienced some of the things I’d been going through since 1989.

“Meeting” someone through communication via AOL email and Instant Messaging who turns out to be meaningful is basically the plot line of You’ve Got Mail. Among the people I met in the chatroom I landed in were Timothy, Jim, and Timmy, who became my friends and my writing partners, plus a stranger-then-friend who turned out to be a distant cousin from my father’s side of the family (what were the chances?).

That whole AOL experience is so LAST century, right? Yet in a viewer reaction to the movie, someone mentioned how outdated the technology is but NO ONE CARES because it’s still a good movie. I think it is, too. Like Sleepless In Seattle, there’s something so quietly sweet in the chemistry between Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. I say that despite how the plot line has his character (Joe Fox) opening a big box bookstore that unapologetically aims to put her character (Kathleen Kelly)’s charming independent bookstore, inherited from her mother, out of business. By the time that movie came out, I’d been a bookseller in a chain, but I shopped at local booksellers, too, and I regretted every one lost. Ironically, ultimately, Amazon not only ate the independents, it continues the process of putting bookstore chains out of business.

Until last night’s conclusion of You’ve Got Mail, I hadn’t rewatched movies this week. I got in the mood to reread a book series that I first became acquainted with in junior high school. That’s a story for another time, but it’s provided a much-needed diversion from an anxiety-filled week.

Photo Friday, No. 923

Current Photo Friday theme: Museum


Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C., 1996
Shot on film with Canon AE-1

This is one of the places Amy, Tom, and I visited when we volunteered at the NAMES Project’s AIDS Quilt display. Founded in 1869, the Corcoran Gallery of Art was the first institution in the United States created specifically as an art museum. The Beaux Arts building that housed it was designed by Ernest Flagg and opened in 1897.

When the museum closed in 2014, the National Gallery acquired approximately half of the Corcoran Collection, and the remaining objects were distributed to other museums in the Washington, D.C., area. The building is now home to the Corcoran School of the Arts and Design, part of George Washington University. Located at 500 17th Street, NW, Washington, D.C. the building is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Tiny Tuesday!

I was putting something away in the living room display cabinets when this caught my attention. A small silver box, in the shape of a star, that’s badly in need of polish. (I will take care of this.)

I had a vague recollection of its contents, so I pulled it out, opened it, and first found this disk, about the size of a quarter.

Not sure where I got this, although my friend Sarena, whose business had “serenity” in its name, could have given it to me. Trying to help people find serenity was a big part of both our businesses in the 1990s, and remains so for her. (Not that I wouldn’t still like to give people serenity, but I no longer operate a business for that purpose.) On the back side, the disk says Peace Of Mind.

I’m also not sure where I got the star box (Lynne?), but it did contain what I thought it did: this necklace.

The pendant on the right, containing a quartz crystal with amethyst and small bands of smoky quartz, has a little compartment on the top (with a tiny amethyst set in its top) that opens. I may have bought this in Yellow Springs, Ohio, on a family visit. I remembered there was once a note in the compartment. It’s still there, and it reads: Forever in my heart…Steve and Jeff. Steve is the first friend I lost to AIDS, in 1992.

The pendant on the left, with a small stone of either smoky quartz or topaz, also once contained three green tourmaline sticks. The sticks symbolized, to me, Steve, Jeff (who I met through Steve), and me. I was at work one day in 1995, looked down at the necklace, and realized one tourmaline was missing. This was when Jeff, from whom I was estranged (his choice), was really ill, and I felt like the missing crystal was a harbinger of bad news. People at work searched, with me, offices, the atrium, and other rooms I’d been in, but the crystal was never found. Not too many days later, our mutual friend Tim R called to give me the sad news that Jeff was gone. Several years later, I went with my friends Amy and Richard to the house that had been Jeff’s, where I’d spent so many happy times, and buried the remaining two tourmalines, which had been cleared then programmed with love and good energy, in one of Jeff’s flowerbeds.

I no longer remember where I got the middle pendant: an amethyst, with a unakite disk above it that has a small garnet in the middle. I’m sure it had significance connected to these friends–Steve, Jeff, Tim R, and John–but some memories remain more vivid than others.

The love, however, endures.

Joy and sadness can coexist

Every day has its celebrations. A very happy birthday to Rhonda today! I hope we’ll schedule a birthday brunch or craft night soon to give you the attention you deserve from Houndstooth Hall. Also: cake.

Additionally, today is Star Wars Day, and wee Yoda joins me to say May the Fourth be with you!

 

 
Every day also has its losses. Our friend Jeff, who remains a significant part of our memories, died on this day in 1995.

As I always do on this date, I remember those students who were killed or injured at Kent State University on May 4, 1970.

Dead:
Jeffrey Glenn Miller; age 20
Allison B. Krause; age 19
William Knox Schroeder; age 19
Sandra Lee Scheuer; age 20

Wounded:
Joseph Lewis, Jr.
John R. Cleary
Thomas Mark Grace
Alan Michael Canfora
Dean R. Kahler
Douglas Alan Wrentmore
James Dennis Russell
Robert Follis Stamps
Donald Scott MacKenzie

Button Sunday

Heed the crow, friends.

Today is Great Poetry Reading Day, and you can learn more about it at that link. As for me, as soon as I realized this, I went right to the Houndstooth library and took out this book. I don’t know why I thought to check, because I rarely do this anymore, but I looked inside the front page and I had, indeed, written my name and the date I got the book, which in this case was 1997. I wonder what prompted me to purchase it that year, whether I had a hunger to read more poetry or I was in a bookstore, saw it, and decided, I need that!

I paged through the book randomly, reading poems, and came to a section with work by the American poet Robinson Jeffers, who I’ve always read with pleasure. Full disclosure: In 1995, I bought the book Safe As Houses by Alex Jeffers and wondered if he was related to Robinson Jeffers, but these were the days before I had the entire world of information at my fingertips. I reminded myself that just because two people share a last name… Lucky for me, one of my literary icons, Edmund White, had blurbed the novel on the back cover, and he shared that Alex is Robinson Jeffers’s grandson. Curiosity satisfied. Since I’m off-track already, I want to reiterate that it’s among the highlights of my writing and editing career that I queried Alex about submitting a story to Timothy and me for Best Gay Romance 2014, and I was delighted with his submission, “Shep: A Dog,” and really excited to include it in the anthology. If you have interest in reading an excerpt, I provided one at this old post.

Today, I relished Robinson Jeffers’s poem “Love the Wild Swan,” because I really hungered for more of the validation I got last week that yes, I am a writer, and no, I’m not on the wrong path, I’m on my own path, a path where I can and do love the wild swan.

I even crafted a bit today to showcase Jeffers’s poem in between periods of writing, all while listening to music. If you can’t read the words on the photo below, I’ll add the poem at the end of this post. The swan outline came from ColoringAll.com, and I bought that floral paper (to the right) the swan is on at the bookstore where I was an assistant manager in the late 1980s/early 1990s. I met so many good people there, one of whom, of course, was another of our assistant managers, Steve R.

I didn’t forget for a minute that today is Steve’s birthday, and as I do every year, I whipped up something chocolate in his honor (we’ll be adding a dollop of ice cream to those brownies). We love you always, Steve.

Love the Wild Swan

“I hate my verses, every line, every word.
Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try
One grass-blade’s curve, or the throat of one bird
That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky.
Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch
One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.
Unlucky hunter, Oh bullets of wax,
The lion beauty, the wild-swan wings, the storm of the wings.”
–This wild swan of a world is no hunter’s game.
Better bullets than yours would miss the white breast,
Better mirrors than yours would crack in the flame.
Does it matter whether you hate your. . . self? At least
Love your eyes that can see, your mind that can
Hear the music, the thunder of the wings. Love the wild swan.

Robinson Jeffers, 1935

Thank you, Taylor, for today’s creativity soundtrack. Your lyrics mean a lot to me and to some of my characters.

Fun fact: In An Aries Knows history, I launched Button Sundays on September 17, 2006.

Mood: Monday

The photo previously posted here is by Romain de Tirtoff, under the pseudonym Erté, Winter, in pen and ink from 1978.

When I searched the Internet for art with “winter” in its title, this image showed up and made me laugh, something I’d have thought impossible twenty-eight years ago. I’ve occasionally alluded to this story here. My friends know it and have heard me speak of it many times, and the story is long, so I’ll put it behind a cut in case anyone would rather dodge it.

Continue reading “Mood: Monday”

Hump Day


Last weekend, one of my industrious activities was altering the sleeves on a couple of shirts. In the process, I ran out of thread on a spool. It’s been YEARS since that happened. Those are my bifocals pictured with the sewing stuff. Since the surgery, they’ve actually been useful to me for the first time since I got that prescription…last July. Progress.

I didn’t get enough sleep last night. I tried to take a nap after meds and breakfast and eye drops and all the things. Nap wasn’t happening. So I kicked into gear and started doing things that I had no idea I intended to do.


First, I began to gather things for donation. These were my first items–some pristine stuffed animals, Houston Rockets souvenirs, lots and lots of throw pillows (none that were sewn for me, but including four I once sewed for myself), a couple of gently used quilted bedspreads and pillow shams, other bed linens, a beautiful shower curtain we haven’t used for years, some clothing, and all my old VHS tapes (if those Disney movies are worth something, then I hope someone with more energy than I have grabs them from one of the Goodwill stores and eBays the crap out of them). I’m sure there was more, because by the time I had it all gathered for Tom to load in the car after work, both dining tables were covered. The items have been donated!

We started a redo in the large guest bedroom (aka Lynne’s room), but it’ll be a few days before I can share photos because it’s a work in progress. Naturally, I failed to take before photos of anything, but I may have some old ones that’ll work.

I turned a brutal eye on the second guest room, or since 2020, the Writing Sanctuary (which at different times has been called the Butterfly Room, the Winnie the Pooh Room, and maybe the Quilt Room; I can’t keep up).

Here’s an example of how the bed can look in here when I’m full-on writing and otherwise multitasking. This is from mid-May.

That’s the collaged sketchbook I keep my completed coloring pages in, my wee CD player, the CD binder I’m STILL in (it’s like the freaking 1974 of CD binders), my day planner, Patti Smith’s book that I often use as a prompt when I’m writing in my day planner, the binder that I keep up with my bills in. So… that day, I was writing, listening to music, coloring, paying bills, and journaling. Behind it all, against the wall, is a little crate where I keep a bunch of the books I use for blogging ideas. Keep those books in the back of your mind while I move on.

I didn’t take a photo of the cabinet in here. The big box of CDs that won’t fit in binders was on it. A lot of medical stuff post-surgery. But other than all that extra stuff, the top part usually looked like this.

Some doll muses, a little bit of Dennis Wilson and Beach Boys stuff, Beatles-related stuff, and up top, a shadowbox with mementos of our late friend Steve and photos of him.

I was ready for some order and some change. Below, I’ll share a photo of the shadowbox (reminder: Winnie the Pooh and Piglet were our thing–on the top of the cabinet, not pictured here, there’s usually a stuffed version of both that Steve kept in the hospital with him, plus a Pooh bear Lynne made that I’d given to our late friend John). Those are now in a cabinet with the other stuffed animals because after I donated some, I had room for them. It’ll be better to keep them dust-free.


The shadowbox has been this way since… 1992? ’93? Shiny fabric lining the back was wrapped around the amethyst crystal hanging in there (upper right), a gift from Steve to me one Christmas, put together by one of his RNs, Billie, from a metaphysical shop she owned, and secured into a bag tied with gold cord that I don’t think is visible in this photo. It also contained a dried rose that’s hanging in here toward the middle. Next to the amethyst crystal is a quartz crystal that Steve kept around his neck most of the time. A tiny mirror has fallen behind the Pooh scene I cut out of a greeting card. I never asked, but maybe there was a time before I met him when he and his friends did bumps off that mirror. It was the ’70s, it was the ’80s, and everyone was young and beautiful and life was a party until AIDS crashed it.

So now you need to remember those writing prompt books and this shadow box, while I show you this.


A lovely little pillow I bought sometime in the ’90s, cross-stitched with a scene featuring Winnie, Tigger, and Piglet. After the turn of the century, a young dog with a penchant for destroying linens and other fabric items chewed up part of this pillow. Could have been Margot; could have been Guinness. I well remember their team and individual exploits. Anyway, it’s been on top of that cabinet, too, and today I took it apart.


It became part of the redone shadowbox. Still contains the shiny fabric against the back, the two crystals, the dried rose, and now you can see the mirror. I also put Steve’s Armchair Conductor baton in there. He used to listen to classical music on one of my little boomboxes I took him and direct an imaginary orchestra with that baton in the hospital. Steve was a graduate student in music, a band director, and a conductor.


Beneath that is a picture that was also on the top shelf with Langston Hughes’s “Poem”:

I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say
The poem ends,
Soft as it began–
I loved my friend.

Below that is a photo of Riley playing guitar. The poem was true of Steve in 1992. It became true of Riley in 2008.


So now there’s a corner, and on the other wall is the drawing I bought in 2010 from Gilbert Ruiz, a Houston artist, that makes me think of the novel I’ve yet to write about a ghost. The story contains elements of teenage Becky and includes characters inspired by My First Boyfriend and Riley, and borrows from a terrible thing that happened in our little Alabama town. That shadow box also contains strands of love beads from the ones Lynne and I strung all one summer.


Steve’s two 8×10 photos and a photo of Riley playing piano have joined the Family and Friends Gallery in the hall (of Houndstooth Hall).


I think you’re caught up to the redo of the little place where I had that mess of books. Now it’s just my various eReaders and the CD player I use for my playlist when I write. Tidier, right?


Those books moved to the top shelf that used to be all Steve stuff. They join some journals that had been on a tavern table in the dining room, my day planner, the Patti Smith book, my manifestation dude, sitting next to little herbal bags that were also from Steve and from Billie back in the day, and the “Sisters are forever” art given to me by Debby.

Next shelf down are more muses: Dennis Wilson, Beach Boys things, and four of my character dolls.

Bottom shelf are my Beatles things.

You have no idea what a mess those shelves were. Maybe now that my space feels so much clearer and uncluttered, my brain will follow suit and help me write again? When Lynne was here, she sat in this room as I read chapters aloud to her that she hadn’t previously read. She liked them. She said I NEED TO FINISH THE BOOK.

Button Sunday

ETA: Here are my CD tracks from Saturday and Sunday writing.


Josh Groban, self titled. I used a quote from Don McLean’s song “Vincent” (about Vincent Van Gogh) on our friend Jeff’s NAMES Quilt panel. The song is included on this CD, and our friend Nora, who adored Jeff, gave the CD to me a few years after Jeff’s death.
Guns N’ Roses, Use Your Illusion I and II.


Merle Haggard, The Essential Merle Haggard: The Epic Years; Sophie B. Hawkins, Whaler; Ted Hawkins, The Next Hundred Years; Heart, Greatest Hits; Joe Henderson, Double Rainbow; The Jimi Hendrix Experience, BBC Sessions 2-CD set.