I've been on Facebook, addicted to Scrabble. That's where you can find me if you really want to know what I've been up to. Well, okay, I've read a good book, Let the Great World Spin, and I've gone birding and on native plant walks. It's spring! Finally!
And I've been cooking. I made sesame noodles today. Yum! Added tofu and broccoli.
Check out the new owlet!
This has been a really rough week. Monday, I scanned the local news and glanced at an article about a young mother who had been stabbed to death in Newport News. My eyes fixed on the name of the mother. Danielle Knarr. My mind tried to change that name to something else. I tried to change the words "to death" to something else. I tried to read the sentences again so they'd read that she was a witness, not the victim, but no, she was the victim. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. I knew there could only be one 24-year-old Danielle Knarr in Newport News. I called my husband and told him the news. I tried not to cry (I was at work), but it was hard.
Danielle as a young girl
Twenty-five years ago, my husband and I were asked to be Godparents to Danielle. Another couple was also asked. At the baptism, Danielle's parents and we four Godparents surrounded her with love.
We got to know Danielle when she was very young, babysat her once or twice when her father had to work. She was delightful. Quiet and curious, polite and happy. Over the years, after she moved away, we didn't keep in touch. I regret that very much now.
We had her picture (above) on our refrigerator for over ten years. We thought about Danielle a lot -- we'd see her smiling face when we opened the 'fridge and wonder what she was up to. She was always in our hearts even if we never told her that.
I can't stand that her life was cut short so soon. It's especially horrible that her life was taken by someone so close to her, the father of her children, someone she had apparently loved at some point in her life.
What has helped is that there has been a huge outpouring of love for Danielle. On Facebook, her good friend started a memorial page and over 400 people have joined. Most are people who knew Danielle at some point in their lives and shared memories and photos of her. There are many pictures of her as an adult and pictures of her with her children. She had grown up so much! From the memories on Facebook, I've learned that she grew into a beautiful young woman, intelligent and hard-working, with as big a smile as the one that's been on our refrigerator door for years.
I still can't believe she's gone. I know her family and friends are devastated. She was loved by many and will always be remembered by those whose lives she touched.
Another year, another attempt at blogging. I really don't have time, but we'll see how things go this year. Last year I spent a lot of time on volunteer duties for Master Naturalists. This year I plan to spend time getting back in touch with friends, reading and relaxing. I also hope to bird more and take more nature walks.
I'm on Facebook, so if you know me, friend me. If you know me from Marfan syndrome activities, and want to friend me, please make sure you mention that in your friend request. I don't friend everyone, but if I know you from Marfan-List or the conferences, I'll probably friend you. We Marfs have been sharing a number of posts on Facebook. You can be a fan of the National Marfan Foundation on FB, too, and get updates from them.
I don't update this much -- probably it's best to get a good idea of what I'm up to by seeing my web albums.
Okay, so I haven't updated this blog in ages. I keep thinking I should take the blog down -- I don't do anything with it, after all. I have been way too busy with work, reading books and writing reviews, birding, Master Naturalist duties, trying to learn trees (Hi David!), plants, and birds, cooking (grilling!), and watching TV and DVDs to have time to write here.
I'm very grateful that I have a great job, especially in times like this, but work sure takes up a lot of time! You'd think my working for thirty years would be enough! I do hope some day people in our generation and class will be able to afford retirement. I keep telling myself that there is big business in retirement -- selling trips and golf clubs to older people -- so maybe retirement won't disappear for everyone, but then I think of who the 'everyone' might be. Librarians and waste-water treatment plant operators -- people who help the community for little pay (includes teachers and people at a 'working class' pay) -- may not ever get to comfortably retire. We'll see.
I'm covered today in mosquito bites. I weeded yesterday for the first time in years. Usually my husband does that, but there's a spot under the bird feeder that was overgrown with millet plants that he asked me to weed. For some reason, he doesn't like mucking around in birdshit.
We got a new "squirrel-proof" feeder last week. Oh, well. It only took a week:
Since I was seven years old, I've wanted to be a writer. Now that I'm fifty, and I have no books or stories published, I have very strong doubts that it's ever going to happen. When I graduated from college, I planned to work full time for rent money, and write in the evenings. My husband works rotating shift, so there are times now when I have hours on end alone, but there's grocery shopping, housework, exercise, birding, updating the Bird Club and Marfan websites, and Master Naturalist duties.
I signed up for a creative writing class with a local community center. In college, I took creative writing classes, one from Mary Gordon (at the community college in Poughkeepsie mentioned at that link) before her first book was published, and another at William and Mary with Parke Rouse. If I couldn't learn how to take the lessons they gave and write, I wasn't expecting a lot from the local class. I know I can't expect to attend a class and instantly learn to write great stories. I expected to get from this class structure, organization and inspiration. I wanted to attend a class each week and write assignments, a motive to make me actually produce some writing.
The class was canceled. Only two people had signed up for it.
Then I decided I'd take those two hours that I'd planned to be in class and use them to write. I'd go to a carrel in the library, read about how to write and write. I did this past week. I used a pencil and wrote unconnected sentences and paragraphs until my middle finger hurt. (I have no laptop).
But I just feel depressed when I get in these "I've got to be a writer!" moods. The task seems so incredibly daunting. The problem isn't with writing sentences, it's with structure, and with plot. I don't even know what I want to write. I'll have an idea but not have a full idea for a whole story: beginning, middle and end.
So I ask myself, why do I want to "be a writer"? Do I really like writing? Whenever I start, I just get depressed. So why not just stop wanting to be a writer? Why can't I just be happy being a reader? I love more than anything to read, and I don't usually get depressed when I'm reading.
It's hard to stop wanting something when you've wanted it for forty-three years. I think to myself, okay, I won't want to be a writer anymore. Then I immediately start thinking about writing a book about someone wanting to not want to be a writer after forty-three years. (Wouldn't that make a thrilling plot?)
I'm writing this blog entry because it's writing. It's boring writing, but it's writing. The rec center is going to offer the class again in the summer. Maybe then teachers off from the school season will want to sign up. It's expensive ($95), but maybe it could be a lot of fun (or an expensive way to get myself even more depressed).
I'm not going to resolve to post more. It's hopeless, and nobody (except maybe David) reads it anyway.
Looking back at last year, I'm amazed at how many books I've read. I didn't get up to fifty, as I'd hoped, but 40 isn't bad. I think there might be some missing from this list so maybe it's more than 40.
About the ratings: It's hard for me to give a book less than three stars. It has to be really bad writing! And I don't usually finish (nor rate) books with really bad writing.
Tomorrow I have to go back to work. I had planned to clean up my desk area, which is a ridiculous pile of papers, magazines, notebooks and books. It's more of a mess now than before. There are so many words to read in the pile of textual rubble. Cooking magazines, birding magazines, novels, notebooks with field notes from birding trips and Master Naturalist classes, reference books, books on writing. There's physically no way to read everything in my lifetime, and that's really frustrating. I want to learn everything there is to learn! (Except maybe about how to field dress a deer).
I didn't finish reading Pinnochio, in case you're wondering. I really didn't like it that much. I'd been interested in it since I knew the Disney version was whacked, but I didn't like the original either. But I liked the book -- the format and the illustrations. I read Linda Fairstein's Lethal Legacy, which is a murder mystery that takes place in (or right near) the New York Public Library. One of the victims is a book conservator. It was entertaining. There was some interesting facts about the library I didn't know (I don't know much about the NYPL, but the facts that I learned from her novel were interesting). Then I read After the Floods, by Bruce Henricksen. I really enjoyed reading this. (But I have to write a review for it for LibraryThing, and I'm not sure what to say.)
I also have to write reviews for Blogging for a Good Book, but mine aren't due until late next month. Wish I could write interesting reviews. I've signed up to take a local creative writing class. It starts in March. After forty-three years of wanting to 'be a writer' and not writing, it's a step, perhaps, in the right direction. I'm paying money to get some organization around my desire to write. We'll see how it turns out.
I just looked at the stacks of books I have to read (many advance reader copies that I was sure I'd read and review online) and felt almost like crying. I want to read ALL of them. I have a stack from Book Expo 2007 that I haven't touched. More from ALA. Others I requested, haven't touched. Books I've bought -- can't get to them. What am I reading now, you wonder? Pinocchio. I just finished listening to The Anatomy of Deception -- really good! The only thing I didn't like about it was that I listened to it non-stop and it took less than twenty-four hours to hear. That means I didn't have time to feel like I was in the 1850s in Philadelphia for very long.
Well, I was going to write a longer post, but I've run out of time. I never have enough time to do everything I want to do!
