The terrible, most hard-headed two-year-old. Sorry, Mom and Dad, wherever you are.
Tuesday, April 20, 2021
Friday, April 16, 2021
This is not gonna be easy...
Have you ever published a book? If you have, you have my total respect. Wow... what a field of land-mines this is. Go ahead, try it. Try searching for an agent and getting rejected. Over and over. Try finding a publisher. Rejection after rejection. This is not for the faint of heart. Here is the next page in my graphic novel, Freak.
Oh, the waves are flat today, so planning on rewrites and emails to printers... hope you do some good out there in the world today! Tell me about it, okay?
Wednesday, April 14, 2021
The First Page
The first step is the hardest and we will begin with the baby page. This is me as a sack of protoplasm.
I went surfing today and the waves weren't terrible. I can still get to my feet and even ride a shortboard when the waves are over two feet. Meanwhile, back to my first graphic novel's first page...
Tuesday, April 13, 2021
Are you still there?
I haven't posted since 2016. So, everyone has rightly abandoned me. It was a rough four years and I am fairly certain you know what I mean about what happened in the United States of America that was anything bu united under a certain being called 45. Then we topped that off with a pandemic. If you are still here you will have some stories to tell your grandkids. I won't have to bore them with mine because I will never have any. My son told me this world is no where to bring a human into, and in some ways I know he is right.
So, I still surf! Are you getting in the water lately? Surfing is still my main motivator, despite where I live being less than ideal. Back when I lived on the Gulf of Mexico in St. Petersburg, Florida, the East Coast of Florida was the mecca. The dreamland. That was our focus then. Looking back, I guess that was a low bar to aspire to. Some days I wonder what might have happened if we had moved to California or Hawaii or Costa Rica where we bought some land near a great wave. We never made it that far. We opened a surf shop in St. Augustine and made a life there. Life happens when you're making plans, and all that.
If you are still here and your eyes aren't glazed over, I have just completed a graphic novel/memoir where you can read all about it! I will post a page here every day so you can read for free. I hope to have it published and have been sending out queries (I hate that word, say it aloud and it feels like you're in elementary school again, picking on a certain group you understand nothing about). Publishing, these days, is a field of landmines. I have been warned. There are lots of holes in that field to trip and fall into. I keep brushing myself off and moving on. No explosions yet, but lots of obstacles. It's kind of the theme of my book, so...
I will post just the cover today. Thanks for hanging in. That's what Allan Weisbecker (an authentic author) used to tell me. I hope he still is.
Sunday, December 4, 2016
To Understand
Here we go. It has been awhile. Events of the past month have shaken us all up. It is time to start writing thoughts down again. Maybe you will want to ride along in my little side car? I hope so, because maybe together we can find a better way though this crazy labyrinth.
It's time to open our eyes.
There are bad things, very very bad things being said and done due to that narcissist we are called the "president elect" (which is a major untruth right there if you add up the votes of the people). We will be dealing with this for a very long time. Buckle up, everyone. Together we can rise, but we have to do something. All of us. And, all of us together is a lot.
So, something happened last night that opened my eyes. I want to share it in the hopes you will learn something like I did. Maybe you will even see something I missed. I often miss a lot of things that appear obvious to others.
I was babysitting the last two nights for the family I have been nanny for for almost seven years. I have learned a lot from this job, a job that not many people would like or even respect. I have learned a lot from this assumption as well. It has been a gold mine of learning opportunity. Surfing has saved me many times. I will get back to that obsession after this post.
Last night I was babysitting.
The two older boys are easy now. At nearly eleven and half way into thirteen, they are free bucks, running in and around the gated, pesticide controlled tiny lawns that wrap neatly around million dollar homes unsupervised. The two younger ones are six and seven, and need an eye kept on them, and that is where I come in. So, the seven year old was having his very first sleep over. His parents gave me the phone number for the home he was staying at. I was to be on alert if they called.
At about 9:30 p.m. I got the call. My little buddy was upset, weepy, the mom explained, and wanted to come home. Let me talk to him, I said.
I had already put the youngest to bed, the older boys were settling in with a movie, and I could not go pick him up, I told the mom, leaving my post, and with no idea where her house even was. She realized that. So, first... let me talk to him.
He sounded sad and barely spoke, answering my questions with the minimum defeated response. I warned him that if he bailed, his folks wouldn't let him go to a sleepover for a very long time. And, he would miss riding on the float in the parade in the morning, something I knew he was very excited about. He didn't care, he just wanted to come home. The mom was more than glad to drive him home, she said, no problem. She seemed to understand, her voice soft and kind.
I hung up, and my initial reaction was to be tough with him. I would have to breathe, imagining what I might say as a sometimes too real nanny. "I am your window to the real world!" is my refrain. I started thinking how he was just spoiled and only had to whine to get his way, and that rich kids were just plain annoying! But, I knew he was sensitive, always had been, and that was why I had always loved him. He had always been my favorite. He had always cried easily, but his laugh had delighted me over the years so totally that I would do anything to elicit that. These days I watched him try to be brave, he fought the tears now, his brothers ready to scream at him for the first sign of a tear or sensitive feeling. We had always found humor in similar things and his was spot on and very mature, he always "got" things. I always said he was an old soul. He never said much, an observer watching the world with big clear blue eyes. He has suffered much under his two older brothers knee-jerk insults and put downs. I guess it is just life. I come to his rescue whenever I can.
The almost eleven year old was listening to me on the phone. As soon as I hung up, he walked over disgusted and said, "THAT LITTLE PUSSY! WHAT A BABY! WAIT UNTIL HE GETS HERE, I AM GOING TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE!"
Oh, come on, I said.
I could see my little guy would be in for it when he arrived home within minutes.
Put out one fire at a time.
Sadly, part of me actually related to the brother's anger. For just a second, I wanted to join in the lynching. I felt my anger rise.
But then I remembered how, when I was probably twelve (TWELVE!), I had done exactly the same thing. I had become unreasonably upset and had a near panic attack during a sleepover at my friend's house, which was only about five doors down from mine! I told the older boy about this. I told him that we needed to understand WHY his little brother had wanted to come home. "He is very embarrassed," I said, "please, let's not add to it." The older boy sighed, slumping his shoulders, clearly disappointed he had no ally.
When my little buddy walked up the steps to the house, he was silent and looked at the ground as I ushered him to his room. His older brothers stood at the door, watching, silent, and I was grateful.
When I tucked him into bed, I asked him if he wanted to talk about why he wanted to leave. He shook his head and just started at the ceiling with wide sad eyes. I ran my fingers through his hair and told him how I had done the same exact thing when I was twelve (TWELVE!), and how I didn't understand why. I told him I just remembered being worried about my mom and that the house was going to burn down. Weird, but true.
I kissed him and said goodnight, and that was when he looked at me, and with more feeling that ever in the seven years I have known him, said, "I love you."
I told him I loved him, too, and walked out thinking how differently things would have gone if I had joined in the lynching of him his brother was planning when he walked in the door.
We have to understand. Sometimes it is the hardest thing to do when all we want to do it shake someone. When we see them doing something stupid or something we don't agree with, that makes no sense (THE ELECTION!) we often become incensed. When has that ever worked? In some cases, I am sure it does. If I saw someone hurting a defenseless animal, there is no telling the horrors Miss Nancy might become capable of. But, when it comes to affairs of the heart, no one can understand completely what is happening in that vessel void of logic and swirling with an individual's story of hurt, pain, and joy. We have to at least try to breathe for a moment. We have to consider what that person might be wrestling with that to us seems so ridiculously simple and obvious. We have to stand up against injustice, yes. and always. Like MLK said. If we don't, we are complicit.
But, we can and must find something to relate to the question why - or we will never understand and move forward with any sort of influence for change.
It's time to open our eyes.
There are bad things, very very bad things being said and done due to that narcissist we are called the "president elect" (which is a major untruth right there if you add up the votes of the people). We will be dealing with this for a very long time. Buckle up, everyone. Together we can rise, but we have to do something. All of us. And, all of us together is a lot.
So, something happened last night that opened my eyes. I want to share it in the hopes you will learn something like I did. Maybe you will even see something I missed. I often miss a lot of things that appear obvious to others.
I was babysitting the last two nights for the family I have been nanny for for almost seven years. I have learned a lot from this job, a job that not many people would like or even respect. I have learned a lot from this assumption as well. It has been a gold mine of learning opportunity. Surfing has saved me many times. I will get back to that obsession after this post.
Last night I was babysitting.
The two older boys are easy now. At nearly eleven and half way into thirteen, they are free bucks, running in and around the gated, pesticide controlled tiny lawns that wrap neatly around million dollar homes unsupervised. The two younger ones are six and seven, and need an eye kept on them, and that is where I come in. So, the seven year old was having his very first sleep over. His parents gave me the phone number for the home he was staying at. I was to be on alert if they called.
At about 9:30 p.m. I got the call. My little buddy was upset, weepy, the mom explained, and wanted to come home. Let me talk to him, I said.
I had already put the youngest to bed, the older boys were settling in with a movie, and I could not go pick him up, I told the mom, leaving my post, and with no idea where her house even was. She realized that. So, first... let me talk to him.
He sounded sad and barely spoke, answering my questions with the minimum defeated response. I warned him that if he bailed, his folks wouldn't let him go to a sleepover for a very long time. And, he would miss riding on the float in the parade in the morning, something I knew he was very excited about. He didn't care, he just wanted to come home. The mom was more than glad to drive him home, she said, no problem. She seemed to understand, her voice soft and kind.
I hung up, and my initial reaction was to be tough with him. I would have to breathe, imagining what I might say as a sometimes too real nanny. "I am your window to the real world!" is my refrain. I started thinking how he was just spoiled and only had to whine to get his way, and that rich kids were just plain annoying! But, I knew he was sensitive, always had been, and that was why I had always loved him. He had always been my favorite. He had always cried easily, but his laugh had delighted me over the years so totally that I would do anything to elicit that. These days I watched him try to be brave, he fought the tears now, his brothers ready to scream at him for the first sign of a tear or sensitive feeling. We had always found humor in similar things and his was spot on and very mature, he always "got" things. I always said he was an old soul. He never said much, an observer watching the world with big clear blue eyes. He has suffered much under his two older brothers knee-jerk insults and put downs. I guess it is just life. I come to his rescue whenever I can.
The almost eleven year old was listening to me on the phone. As soon as I hung up, he walked over disgusted and said, "THAT LITTLE PUSSY! WHAT A BABY! WAIT UNTIL HE GETS HERE, I AM GOING TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE!"
Oh, come on, I said.
I could see my little guy would be in for it when he arrived home within minutes.
Put out one fire at a time.
Sadly, part of me actually related to the brother's anger. For just a second, I wanted to join in the lynching. I felt my anger rise.
But then I remembered how, when I was probably twelve (TWELVE!), I had done exactly the same thing. I had become unreasonably upset and had a near panic attack during a sleepover at my friend's house, which was only about five doors down from mine! I told the older boy about this. I told him that we needed to understand WHY his little brother had wanted to come home. "He is very embarrassed," I said, "please, let's not add to it." The older boy sighed, slumping his shoulders, clearly disappointed he had no ally.
When my little buddy walked up the steps to the house, he was silent and looked at the ground as I ushered him to his room. His older brothers stood at the door, watching, silent, and I was grateful.
When I tucked him into bed, I asked him if he wanted to talk about why he wanted to leave. He shook his head and just started at the ceiling with wide sad eyes. I ran my fingers through his hair and told him how I had done the same exact thing when I was twelve (TWELVE!), and how I didn't understand why. I told him I just remembered being worried about my mom and that the house was going to burn down. Weird, but true.
I kissed him and said goodnight, and that was when he looked at me, and with more feeling that ever in the seven years I have known him, said, "I love you."
I told him I loved him, too, and walked out thinking how differently things would have gone if I had joined in the lynching of him his brother was planning when he walked in the door.
We have to understand. Sometimes it is the hardest thing to do when all we want to do it shake someone. When we see them doing something stupid or something we don't agree with, that makes no sense (THE ELECTION!) we often become incensed. When has that ever worked? In some cases, I am sure it does. If I saw someone hurting a defenseless animal, there is no telling the horrors Miss Nancy might become capable of. But, when it comes to affairs of the heart, no one can understand completely what is happening in that vessel void of logic and swirling with an individual's story of hurt, pain, and joy. We have to at least try to breathe for a moment. We have to consider what that person might be wrestling with that to us seems so ridiculously simple and obvious. We have to stand up against injustice, yes. and always. Like MLK said. If we don't, we are complicit.
But, we can and must find something to relate to the question why - or we will never understand and move forward with any sort of influence for change.
Friday, May 1, 2015
Guess who's back?
Ha ha! How long will it take for the Earl of Cheddar to find me? Let the games begin!
Never underestimate a mother's love, my boy.
Never underestimate a mother's love, my boy.Saturday, June 14, 2014
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