Comments are appreciated and answered.
“How will we know when it’s time to leave?” he asked. “There’s no clock. I don’t have a watch.”
As only a four-year-old could, she gave him a look that was half-frown, half-patient, and said, “Sand and magic.”
“You’re right,” he said, wondering when he’d stopped understanding gravity was magic.
I got this free downloadable coloring page from Easy Drawing SA. The hourglass came from a YouTube drawing tutorial.
A “mindful clock” reminds us to be in the moment.
Our sense of time is fluid because of our memories (e.g., either something happened that we’re remembering, or something happened that we fear could happen again). The moment it enters our thoughts, a memory turns us into time travelers. Sometimes that can be joyful, other times painful; sometimes comforting, other times agonizing. Mindfulness is not about forgetting or ignoring your memories or even your hopes and fears. Mindfulness simply provides the opportunity to be present in the current moment in a way that can refocus the brain from regret (about the past) or anxiety (about the future), for example.
Here’s a small excerpt using a life event from one of the characters in the Neverending Saga.
[He’d] never worn a watch. Even as a little kid, he’d had an adversarial relationship with watches, clocks, and possibly time in general. He was willing to adhere to most of the rules: bedtime; time to get up; be in your desk on time when the school bell rings; don’t keep parents, other family, and [teachers] waiting by being late.
[After the tragic loss of his parent,] he began to understand how distorted his perception of time could be. Some good things seemed to have happened long ago; bad things not only felt recent, but had such sharpness, rawness, that they seemed to happen again each time he thought of them, with the same impact.
Time, time, time
See what’s become of me
While I looked around for my possibilities
I was so hard to please
Look around
Leaves are brown
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter…
Just so you know, none of these watches work, and that’s fine. I’m sure most of the ones on the left have a story, but I either don’t know or remember those stories. From left to right on the rolling pin, they are my mother’s Mickey Mouse watch, and four of her “old lady” watches, at least a couple of which likely came from my father. Number six with the blue face has no numbers or hands and is more of a cuff bracelet, so I don’t know if it was ever really a watch.
The next five are my wristwatches. The first is one I bought in NYC at Macy’s when the one to its right (a gift from Tom) stopped working. Why buy a replacement battery when I could get a watch at a famous department store? Timmy went with me and picked it out. Those were my last two new watches before cell phones made them obsolete. The two to the right were my “old lady” watches, I guess, when I taught or worked in the corporate world. And that’s my Mickey Mouse graduate school watch finishing the row.
There’s a symmetry/balance in that row of Mother’s watches and mine.
The three in the shadowbox hang in the writing sanctuary now: the Spiro Agnew watch I got when he was still Nixon’s vice president; my bicentennial watch I received as a gift in 1976 from the woman and her husband who would later become my first mother-in-law (and stepfather-in-law); and my Red Ribbon watch I got in the first half of the 1990s when I was an AIDS caregiver and activist.
On the table, on the right, is a musical-themed brooch that also contains a once-functional watch, and to its left, a pendant watch on a chain (possibly a gift from my first husband? Or maybe Tom? I don’t know!). I once had another beautiful pendant watch given to me by a sweet boyfriend circa the eighth grade. A couple of years later, I had to change clothes before band practice in the women’s restroom at a different school. I set the watch on a sink and forgot it. It was probably less than ten minutes later when I raced back to the restroom, but it had been taken, and no one ever turned it in.
Over the next few days, we’ll see how I address this week’s theme: Time. Maybe I’ll tease you with some excerpts from the Neverending Saga.
I’ve heard it’s not “cool” to like Coldplay, but I always have, so I leave you with their song “Clocks,” the lyrics of which could easily have been written by one of my characters to his muse, his love, his obsession.
The lights go out and I can’t be saved
Tides that I tried to swim against
Have brought me down upon my knees
Oh, I beg, I beg and plead
Singin’ come out of things unsaid
Shoot an apple off my head
And a trouble that can’t be named
A tiger’s waiting to be tamed, singin’
You are…You are
Confusion that never stops
Closing walls and ticking clocks
Gonna come back and take you home
I could not stop that you now know
Singin’ come out upon my seas
Cursed missed opportunities
Am I a part of the cure
Or am I part of the disease? Singin’
You are…You are…You are
You are…You are…You are
And nothing else compares
Oh, no, nothing else compares
And nothing else compares
You are…You are
Home, home, where I wanted to go
Home, home, where I wanted to go
Home, home, where I wanted to go
Home, home, where I wanted to go
I’m glad I chose inspirations as this week’s theme on my most recent Sunday Sundries post because I feel like doing so has reminded me all week of people I know personally, along with so much music and other art, that have inspired me throughout my life. There’s a lot in the world I’m shutting out right now, or trying to, but I never want to be closed off from what inspires me.
Yesterday, while running a multitude of errands, I needed to go to Michael’s to look for something jewelry-related. They didn’t have it, but I did find something else that made me happy. Pictured are inexpensive, plastic steampunk-style buttons. I don’t need them as buttons and can probably clip off the backs of those that have them. I want them to use in art collages on canvas. This has been an idea that’s percolated for a couple of years after I found a Southwestern artist on Instagram whose work I admired. I shared her stuff with Lynne, and at that point, the two of us began talking about and gathering little items and objects for possible multimedia future projects.
Here, for example, are some smaller charms that I began buying as I found them.
Let me tell you, these things were relatively expensive compared to the buttons. The cost alone made me hesitate to get started without a clear vision. I wanted the chance to experiment without feeling like I’d wasted money.
After I bought the buttons, I came home with steampunk on my mind, set the buttons in front of me, and opened this coloring book. I’m not sure what it is about steampunk design, costume, and art that intrigues me. I don’t believe I’ve ever watched any of the movies or TV shows that I think it’s been used in (with the exception of one episode of “Gilmore Girls”).
Here’s what I colored.
Below are containers with more of the items I’ve accumulated through the years with an eye toward this project, some from Lynne and some from my mother-in-law from her craft supplies.***
These are reproduction vintage papers Debby gave me either for a birthday or Christmas one year. I’d like to find a way to use them, too, in this project.
***An entire section of this post vanished when it was published. I mentioned how Lynne and I have through the years gone antiquing and thrifting, sometimes together, sometimes solo. I used the fun of those times not between two friends in the Neverending Saga, but with a couple doing that as they’re falling in love. Their shared enthusiasm leads them to new people, to gifts they give to each other, as part of the stories they imagine, and on spontaneous adventures.
On Instagram, I follow this guy I used to work with because he always has interesting photos and writing excerpts that he finds across the Internet and shares in his stories. There was one the other day that I REALLY liked, but trying to identify its origin or creator became problematic. I decided not to share it here because I can’t be sure of its correct attribution. Though I can’t show you what inspired me, it’s the reason I began to imagine what would happen if my characters left their pages to give me guidance and encouragement. Here’s how that looked for me (this is only the second page I’ve added to my coloring pages collection book in January, because the magical unicorns remain in their original book).
The background book drawing that I colored was a free download from Super Coloring. The male silhouette group was a free download from Frepik. The female silhouette group was a free download from Vecteezy. I’m grateful for creators who are generous with this kind of content and ask only for credit.
I copied and pasted actual text excerpts from several of the Saga novels to apply to the silhouettes. I don’t know which characters they’re supposed to be–well, maybe one of them, but the story that matches him hasn’t even been written yet–maybe it’ll show up in the eighth or ninth book. All the words are mine, so I only have to credit myself.
This became a good diversion today after I did a bunch of household stuff and dog stuff, ate a decent midday meal, had a shower, etc. (In another Instagram account I follow, periodically the content creator asks in her reels, Have you eaten today? Drunk your water? Taken your medications? It’s actually quite helpful sometimes to keep me on track!)
This post is my method of asking my characters to work their particular brand of magic and get me back to writing, please.
I can’t believe it’s been almost three years since I went to the fantastic Houston indie bookstore Kaboom Books. It may have been where I picked up this Joni Mitchell book.
Long before I lost a ton of albums in the Harvey flood, I had other albums that were water damaged from a leaking pipe in one of my graduate school-era houses. I’m not sure if I lost my Joni Mitchell albums then, or if I gave them away during one of several purges (I moved a LOT as a grad student, and purges were helpful). I had roommates over different times who were Joni fans, and very often, if I met someone who was passionate about an artist, I’d give them my vinyl.
Sidebar: My friend Ed was a huge fan of the band Chicago, and I had almost all of their albums on vinyl collected over many years. It was a pleasure to give him those albums, and it was even before he once let me drag him from church to help my brother move an insanely heavy sofa bed up some stairs and inside my new apartment, thereby giving me something to sleep on. A couple of years later, both Ed and his brother Joe were two of Tom’s groomsmen in our wedding (where my brother walked me down the aisle–I wonder if David and Ed remembered that damn sofa bed, which was so heavy that I left it in the apartment when I moved out!). The same year Tom and I married, Joe married my friend Susan, who I’d met when we both worked at the same horrible law firm during one of my grad school breaks (I introduced Susan and Joe, and they’re still going strong!). I wonder if Ed still has those Chicago albums. =)
Back to the subject of Joni. I don’t own any of her music now, but I stream her whenever I’m in the mood. The above two pages from the book got me into a deep dive of her relationship with James Taylor (the song “Blue,” lyrics shown here, is allegedly about him, and the sketch is also–allegedly!–of him).
All the relationships among the musicians of Laurel Canyon in the ’60s and ’70s are a frequent research topic because they include many of my favorite artists (and several of Joni Mitchell’s lovers). If I could get my head out of the terrible places current news takes me and write, I’m stalled in the middle of a chapter set in 1975, wherein a couple of good friends are trying to keep another friend away from that Laurel Canyon scene. It amuses me to write against my fascination with that time and those artists to keep myself from throwing my character to the wolves… or coyotes… “Coyote” is one of my personal favorite Joni Mitchell songs, one that’s allegedly about her relationship with the late playwright/actor/director/ screenwriter/author Sam Shepard.
Author Paul Lisicky, a writer whose work I always enjoy, and a contributor to our (as in Timothy J. Lambert and my) January 2014 anthology (11 years!) Foolish Hearts: New Gay Fiction, has a new book coming out, Song So Wild and Blue: A Life with the Music of Joni Mitchell (on sale February 25, 2025). I’m looking forward to reading this. As Harper Collins describes it, A guide to life that is part memoir, part biography, and part homage, Song So Wild and Blue is a joy for devoted Joni enthusiasts, budding writers, and artists of all stripes.
Musicians and writers and artists–they inspire me, and I’m still hopeful they’re the best antidote to the things that are currently overwhelming my voice and state of mind.
Tim gave me the most recent Stephanie Plum book (Janet Evanovich’s Now Or Never: Thirty-one On the Run) at Christmas and I read it this week. When I added it to my Goodreads library, I glanced at reader reviews. Many are angry about the romantic choices Stephanie made in the book. I’m not about to give any spoilers on the off chance a web search might lead someone here, but the decisions Evanovich (and Plum) made were what I’d have done as a writer and were true to the characters, plus what she didn’t include was also a good choice. No unhappiness here!
Also, Nurse Lisa aka Lisa in Iowa confirmed that the small rat in my stuffed animals cabinet was one she brought and discreetly put on one of my bookshelves when she visited us in Houston back in February of 2008 (probably what turned him into a reader). Since I began “gray” week with Lisa’s big rat, I’m finishing it with her wee rat.
Wee rat also liked the latest Plum mystery. It’s stunning, really, that there are THIRTY-ONE novels in this series. They are the ultimate comfort read for me. It should be noted that there are four additional Stephanie Plum books that include her escapades with Diesel, the paranormal bounty hunter (who shows up in at least one of the numbered novels, as well), and Diesel has his own books with pastry chef Lizzy Tucker (I think there are three, and I’d appreciate more of them).
Today, I will really, really try to get back to work on my own novels (I’m only on number seven). Editor’s Note: I didn’t. I haven’t.
BFFs since high school enjoying a snow day at Houndstooth Hall. His gray kilt matches the week’s color theme.
The first photo is mine, contents of one of my boxes. Background for the above quote to recognize Martin Luther King Jr. Day is from a photo of my 2006 acrylic on canvas painting “Enlighten,” filtered to be gray.
The skies are gray this morning, too, as our bad weather begins to roll in. My mood’s a bit gray, as well. I have no “fear of missing out” today. My hope is to maintain limited exposure to any media, including social media and news, and find a more creative purpose for my time.
Things that are gray. Or grey, as that spelling seems a little more magical than “gray,” and to me, all of these items have magic.
From bottom left, a rat sent by Lisa in Iowa years ago when we had to remove rats from our attic in The Compound amid much drama and mishap. In the end, the rats were gone, the house was secured, and despite it all, there were moments of humor, and Lisa’s rat symbolizes that. It was, in fact, that kind of magic that brought Lisa into our lives when she read the humorous TJB books, wrote us a letter, and a bond was formed. It included a visit to The Compound and meetings at Saints and Sinners, and it endures to this day.
Next up is little Dedo, a gift from me to Tom one year. Dedo is a small gargoyle on the Notre Dame Cathedral who is said to have a protective, caring presence. Dedo is a symbol of kindness and safeguarding. Sounds like Tom. Sometimes when you want to wander across the Internet, look up stories and legends about Dedo and his likenesses.
Then there’s Batman, whose sartorial choice for this look is a gray bodysuit. Through the decades, his bodysuit has had bold colors of several hues, zebra stripes, a mummy bandage look, brown, and black, but most often, he’s in gray. Batman is a symbol of hope and justice. He has no superhuman qualities, but he represents the best of humans in his quest to protect others, disable villains without killing them, and give people a belief in a better future.
An elephant, besides being my college mascot, symbolizes many things in different cultures. A list includes: power, wisdom, loyalty, fertility, strength, high moral character, longevity, stamina, moderation, eternity, memory, vitality, majesty, and intelligence. Speaking of magic, many years ago, over coffee, a professor told me a fact about elephants that made me rethink a certain bias I had, planting a seed that would fully bloom in the 1990s and change my life for good and for better.
Oh, the shark bites…the book. He’s only being playful. I doubt I ever gave any thought to sharks at all until one night when a few of us were hanging out in the lone convenience store in the wee town where I went to high school. (As I recall, the sister of one of my friends worked there, and she didn’t care if we gathered there. There was nothing else to do.) I picked up a book, read the first few pages of Jaws, thought, Eek! Not for me! and put it down. Later, I saw the movie when it came out, loved it (and also ended up loving the novel), and from then on, sharks held a fascination for me. I appreciate seeing them in their natural environment thanks to skilled photographers. I like seeing them in cartoons. They continue to have mystery and, like the elephant, a majesty to me.
Finally, we have what I dub a “melancholy of Eeyores.” In the pantheon of characters who inhabit Hundred Acre Wood, Eeyore seems to have a theme for many people, who think he’s: sad, depressed, pessimistic, downtrodden, negative, gloomy, and hypersensitive. However, he’s also a thinker and a planner. The magic of Eeyore is that he’s greatly loved by his friends. They don’t exclude him, berate him, try to change him, or avoid him. He brings a balance to their group, and they love him without conditions.
Finally, I included the writing prompts book Complete The Story. I feel as if I’ve story-told enough in this post already, so I’ll leave you with the prompt below. Maybe something among the worlds of gargoyles, heroes, and animals pictured will trigger your imagination or a memory that helps you create a story of your own. The story begins…
On the 4th day of the 10-day selfie challenge, I wished I’d never bought a smart phone. The photo of me was innocent enough, but what I accidentally captured in the background opened up a whole world of trouble. I had been walking…
Happy imagining and writing!