Friday, October 14, 2005
October Storms
Thunderstorms in October are an unusual occurence around here. Just before supper, the dark black clouds rolled in. Booming thunder roared around. Thunder that seemed louder and closer than a summer storm. Even the clouds seemed to hang lower, barely clearing tree tops and roofs. The dog whimpered, as lightening flashed and popped and then the rain came. It poured and then it hailed. Tiny chunks of ice gathered on the patio table and flung themselves at the birdfeeder. The windowpane rattled with each rising crescendo of thunder. A fast moving storm, it was soon over. Dark clouds gave way to red sunset, promising "sailors delight" for the morn.
*
o
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Tigers
In early morning light
I dreamt of the cat
Nibbling at my face
And pacing around my body
Lithe body ready to pounce
I put my arms up
In defense
And curled into fetal position
My legs kicked out
And launched said cat
From peaceful slumber
As I awoke
So much for reading about tigers
Before going to sleep.
@2005 Eveline Maedel All rights reserved * o
I dreamt of the cat
Nibbling at my face
And pacing around my body
Lithe body ready to pounce
I put my arms up
In defense
And curled into fetal position
My legs kicked out
And launched said cat
From peaceful slumber
As I awoke
So much for reading about tigers
Before going to sleep.
@2005 Eveline Maedel All rights reserved * o
Friday, October 07, 2005
Crisp
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Hot Soup Days
The past couple of days have been perfect hot soup days. It's been cool, and raining steady. Yesterday morning I put some frozen homemade chicken soup in the crock pot so that by lunch time we could come home to "hot soup". I also put my sheep's wool mattress cover back on the bed, after it had made a visit to the dry cleaners. It had fluffed up perfectly, like brand new. Last night, I slipped into bed, snuggled down into the cloud-like comfort of the sheep's wool, wrapped the blankets around me and listened to the rain pelting on the window. I'm grateful for a belly full of hot soup, and warm blankets.
May I be mindful of the blessings in my life, particularly on hot soup days.
@2005 Eveline Maedel All Rights Reserved * o
May I be mindful of the blessings in my life, particularly on hot soup days.
@2005 Eveline Maedel All Rights Reserved * o
Monday, September 12, 2005
A Child's Love
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
So, What's for Supper?
It's been one of those days. It started with an email that put me in a mood that lingered far longer than it should have.
Later in the afternoon, my youngest son called from home. His first full day back at school and he injured his thumb in gym class. He said it was swollen. Twenty minutes later when his brother got home from high school, I had a confirmation that it was indeed swollen. "Mom", he said, "you better come home and look at this."
And so we made a visit to the emergency room where I sometimes think they should hand out Air Miles. The thumb in a splint, a requisition for an x-ray in the morning and a prediction that it'll be quite black and blue by then, we headed for home.
Fortunately, or so I thought, supper was all planned. Thanks to the MenuMailers at Saving Dinner I had sweet potatoes already cooking in the oven and chicken marinating in the fridge. All I needed to do was fire up the grill.
Nothing happened. Apparently grills need propane to run. And apparently there was none in this one. Yes, I know women can fill propane tanks nowadays, but I've never learned how to do that, or hook them up. Frankly, propane makes me nervous and I'm not even happy lighting the grill.
I threw the chicken in the oven, which already was on for the sweet potatoes. This story should have a happy ending but it doesn't end there. The chicken took way longer than it should have to cook, and when we finally sat down to eat I opened up the sweet potatoes and they were rotten on the inside. Thank God for canned corn.
I'm by now thinking I should have gone with my usual plan for supper when hubby is away - eat out!
At this point, a hot bath and curling up with the latest Mindy Starns Clark novel (The Trouble with Tulip) sounds good but I'm afraid there'll be no hot water and pages missing from the end of the book!
P.S. on the list of good things that happened today, Pink Jasper - Gems from the Journey is now available to order from Heliographica. Click here to order. * o
Later in the afternoon, my youngest son called from home. His first full day back at school and he injured his thumb in gym class. He said it was swollen. Twenty minutes later when his brother got home from high school, I had a confirmation that it was indeed swollen. "Mom", he said, "you better come home and look at this."
And so we made a visit to the emergency room where I sometimes think they should hand out Air Miles. The thumb in a splint, a requisition for an x-ray in the morning and a prediction that it'll be quite black and blue by then, we headed for home.
Fortunately, or so I thought, supper was all planned. Thanks to the MenuMailers at Saving Dinner I had sweet potatoes already cooking in the oven and chicken marinating in the fridge. All I needed to do was fire up the grill.
Nothing happened. Apparently grills need propane to run. And apparently there was none in this one. Yes, I know women can fill propane tanks nowadays, but I've never learned how to do that, or hook them up. Frankly, propane makes me nervous and I'm not even happy lighting the grill.
I threw the chicken in the oven, which already was on for the sweet potatoes. This story should have a happy ending but it doesn't end there. The chicken took way longer than it should have to cook, and when we finally sat down to eat I opened up the sweet potatoes and they were rotten on the inside. Thank God for canned corn.
I'm by now thinking I should have gone with my usual plan for supper when hubby is away - eat out!
At this point, a hot bath and curling up with the latest Mindy Starns Clark novel (The Trouble with Tulip) sounds good but I'm afraid there'll be no hot water and pages missing from the end of the book!
P.S. on the list of good things that happened today, Pink Jasper - Gems from the Journey is now available to order from Heliographica. Click here to order. * o
Sunday, September 04, 2005
Train of Thought
If the the only railway crossing in town has crossing arms, is it necessary for the train engineer to lay on the horn as if all matter of life depended on it?
The horn's blast sliced through my bedroom and shattered my sleep. I braced myself for impact, certain that there must be something in the train's way as the urgent, long wail roared past my ears. Had the engineer become unconscious and collapsed on the control panel?
Nothing. The train rattled past and carried on. My heart began its descent from where it clung to the ceiling and drifted back into my chest. It's 1:00 AM. Might as well go to the bathroom. * o
The horn's blast sliced through my bedroom and shattered my sleep. I braced myself for impact, certain that there must be something in the train's way as the urgent, long wail roared past my ears. Had the engineer become unconscious and collapsed on the control panel?
Nothing. The train rattled past and carried on. My heart began its descent from where it clung to the ceiling and drifted back into my chest. It's 1:00 AM. Might as well go to the bathroom. * o
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Thoughts from a Writers Conference
Last weekend I attended the Sleeping Giant Writers Festival. Besides meeting some really great people, I learned a lot and had a very creative day. I took in a workshop on journaling and one on memoir writing. I'm already looking forward to next year's festival. Here are some highlights from my notes:
Great Quote:
"If a piece of writing is going to be any good, it has to brush up against the mysteries or undefinables of who we are"
Charles Wilkins
I Remember (A Journaling Exercise)
I remember partridge hunting down bush roads with my Dad. It is late September or early October. Warm enough for a heavy sweater, yet the air is crisp and full of promise. I love the bush smell - wet, fallen leaves and pine. We walk the gravelly road together surrounded by a symphony of bird son and somewhere up ahead the rhythmic drumming of partridge wings. I don't remember how many partridge we got that day. I don't remember what we talked about or even how many times we went out hunting together. I don't remember the age when I became too old to want to go with him or when exactly I crossed that threshold from tom-boy to teenage girl and he started going hunting with only the dog as companion. Yet I can close my eyes and still feel the texture of plaid flannel hunting jackets. What I really want to say is I'm afraid of losing those memories before I even lose my father. * o
Great Quote:
"If a piece of writing is going to be any good, it has to brush up against the mysteries or undefinables of who we are"
Charles Wilkins
I Remember (A Journaling Exercise)
I remember partridge hunting down bush roads with my Dad. It is late September or early October. Warm enough for a heavy sweater, yet the air is crisp and full of promise. I love the bush smell - wet, fallen leaves and pine. We walk the gravelly road together surrounded by a symphony of bird son and somewhere up ahead the rhythmic drumming of partridge wings. I don't remember how many partridge we got that day. I don't remember what we talked about or even how many times we went out hunting together. I don't remember the age when I became too old to want to go with him or when exactly I crossed that threshold from tom-boy to teenage girl and he started going hunting with only the dog as companion. Yet I can close my eyes and still feel the texture of plaid flannel hunting jackets. What I really want to say is I'm afraid of losing those memories before I even lose my father. * o
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Update on the Common Book
Yesterday, I completed the last page of the little notebook I had started recording "common" stuff in back in June.
Why is this a big deal? It represents the most consistent amount of journaling I have done in my life. I wrote almost daily - sometimes every second day.
Some days the entries are pretty short, obviously jotted down in a hurry. Others are more detailed. Some are downright boring and some have little glimmers of insight.
I'm pleased that even on days when I accomplished no other writing tasks at all, there is something jotted down in my common book. So I can pat myself on the back and say "at least you wrote a bit today".
This morning I cracked the cover of a fresh new notebook - full of possibilities of common entries of my everyday life.
Obviously, the common book system works for me as a journaling tool. * o
Why is this a big deal? It represents the most consistent amount of journaling I have done in my life. I wrote almost daily - sometimes every second day.
Some days the entries are pretty short, obviously jotted down in a hurry. Others are more detailed. Some are downright boring and some have little glimmers of insight.
I'm pleased that even on days when I accomplished no other writing tasks at all, there is something jotted down in my common book. So I can pat myself on the back and say "at least you wrote a bit today".
This morning I cracked the cover of a fresh new notebook - full of possibilities of common entries of my everyday life.
Obviously, the common book system works for me as a journaling tool. * o
Saturday, August 13, 2005
Pink Jasper - Gems from the Journey
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Heliographica Press announced today the pending release of a remarkable book written by six women writers. "Pink Jasper:Gems From The Journey" is a collection of poetry, essays, and short stories chronicaling their personal life journeys of Jacqueline Brooks, Carolyn Horton, Pamela June Kimmell, Eveline Maedel, Georgia Richardson, and Dana Smith-Mansell. The work projects a wide variety of emotion from intense grief to boundless joy as these women share their stories and feelings as they walk their separate paths. There is spiritual awareness, divine celebration and challenge, all celebrated in the pages of this extraordinary book. Each piece is superbly written and as the reader moves from one piece to the next it becomes clear that we all share common stories and experiences. This book's messages will remain with the reader long after the reading is done.
The book will be available shortly from Heliographica Press at http://www.heliographica.com, and other online stores including such as Amazon, and will be available to bookstores and libraries through Ingram and Baker & Taylor. ISBN 1933037059.
* * * * * * * * * *
So there it is - the official announcement! This book has been a "labor of love" project for myself and my "Pink Jasper Sisters" - Jackie, Carolyn, Pam, Georgia and Dana. We met online, we formed an immediate bond and for the past couple of years we have been working on "Pink Jasper". The book will be available for purchase on the Heliographica website soon and I can't wait to get my copies of it either and finally see it in actual book form. I still have to pinch myself periodically to believe it's true!!! * o
Saturday, July 09, 2005
The Visitors
I was interrupted from my Saturday afternoon chores by the sound of the dog barking outside. Looking out the window, I saw two young couples standing at the end of my driveway staring at our garage.
My first thought was that the moose rack my husband hung on the garage last evening must be a real traffic stopper. Turns out, the two women in the group had just wanted to stop by and show their partners the house their father had been born in.
Enchanted at the chance to find out more of the history of my house, I eagerly went outside to greet them and chat a bit. They talked about their father, and the summers and Christmases that they had spent visiting here. Their grandfather built the house and the garage, that he used to store boats for other people.
"There's a name in the cement of the corner of the garage", I said, "come, take a look".
"That's our father's name!" We all stared at the perfectly formed letters in awe. The date underneath is worn and fading, but as close as we could tell was 1960. The girls figured that was about the year their father left for university. For unknown reasons, he marked the occasion forever in cement.
After some reminiscing, they bid me farewell, thanking me profusely for letting them look around.
My house is about 80 years old, and has only housed two families in its time - theirs and mine. Except for some painting and minor repairs it has remained relatively unchanged. It may be old, and a little plain, but its solid walls have sheltered love, laughter, sorrow, youth and old age.
It is a family house. A home. * o
My first thought was that the moose rack my husband hung on the garage last evening must be a real traffic stopper. Turns out, the two women in the group had just wanted to stop by and show their partners the house their father had been born in.
Enchanted at the chance to find out more of the history of my house, I eagerly went outside to greet them and chat a bit. They talked about their father, and the summers and Christmases that they had spent visiting here. Their grandfather built the house and the garage, that he used to store boats for other people.
"There's a name in the cement of the corner of the garage", I said, "come, take a look".
"That's our father's name!" We all stared at the perfectly formed letters in awe. The date underneath is worn and fading, but as close as we could tell was 1960. The girls figured that was about the year their father left for university. For unknown reasons, he marked the occasion forever in cement.
After some reminiscing, they bid me farewell, thanking me profusely for letting them look around.
My house is about 80 years old, and has only housed two families in its time - theirs and mine. Except for some painting and minor repairs it has remained relatively unchanged. It may be old, and a little plain, but its solid walls have sheltered love, laughter, sorrow, youth and old age.
It is a family house. A home. * o
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
Dusty Bookshelves......and more Phantom
A recent trip into the city resulted in the acquisition of the soundtrack CD for The Phantom of The Opera and ignited my "phantom fever" and musings all over again. I took a quick peak at the ultimate Phantom "phans" website, www.phantomoftheopera.com. Besides discovering that there are people out there way more obsessed by the Phantom than I am, I also discovered there is an increasing interest in Susan Kay's novel, Phantom.
Seems Kay's novel is now out of print, and hard to find. According to the FAQ's on the Phantom website, "The novel Phantom, by Susan Kay, is very popular amongst fans, but is out of print. Demand for copies has grown so much since the movie of the musical came out that prices on Amazon and eBay have shot up to as much as $70 - $100 just for a paperback."
Makes me kind of glad I have a hardcover copy gathering dust on my bookshelf (and no, at this moment I'm not selling). I loved the novel and it earned a treasured spot on my bookshelf along with other books I just can't part with.
More than haunted by the Phantom, I now find myself haunted by Susan Kay, the writer. All I could find out about her from searching the internet was that she was born in 1952 and wrote two novels, Legacy in 1985 and Phantom in 1990. Legacy was the winner of Britain's Georgette Heyer Historical Novel Prize and the Betty Trask Prize for a first novel. A good start it would seem. I can't uncover if she wrote anything else after Phantom or what happened to her, or even if she is still alive.
This leaves me wondering why she quit after Phantom? Did the muse leave her? Where is she now (hiding out in some opera house?) What is she doing? Is she aware of all the "phantom fever" surrounding her out of print novel? Somebody please tell me whatever happened to Susan Kay?
Incidentally, the rights to her novel are owned by Amblin - Stephen Spielberg's company. There's rumors that a movie might be in the works. Maybe all the hype over an out of print novel is just good pre-movie publicity. * o
Seems Kay's novel is now out of print, and hard to find. According to the FAQ's on the Phantom website, "The novel Phantom, by Susan Kay, is very popular amongst fans, but is out of print. Demand for copies has grown so much since the movie of the musical came out that prices on Amazon and eBay have shot up to as much as $70 - $100 just for a paperback."
Makes me kind of glad I have a hardcover copy gathering dust on my bookshelf (and no, at this moment I'm not selling). I loved the novel and it earned a treasured spot on my bookshelf along with other books I just can't part with.
More than haunted by the Phantom, I now find myself haunted by Susan Kay, the writer. All I could find out about her from searching the internet was that she was born in 1952 and wrote two novels, Legacy in 1985 and Phantom in 1990. Legacy was the winner of Britain's Georgette Heyer Historical Novel Prize and the Betty Trask Prize for a first novel. A good start it would seem. I can't uncover if she wrote anything else after Phantom or what happened to her, or even if she is still alive.
This leaves me wondering why she quit after Phantom? Did the muse leave her? Where is she now (hiding out in some opera house?) What is she doing? Is she aware of all the "phantom fever" surrounding her out of print novel? Somebody please tell me whatever happened to Susan Kay?
Incidentally, the rights to her novel are owned by Amblin - Stephen Spielberg's company. There's rumors that a movie might be in the works. Maybe all the hype over an out of print novel is just good pre-movie publicity. * o
Friday, June 24, 2005
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Testing
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Finding Freedom in the Common
The other day I was browsing through a back issue of "Personal Journaling" magazine and came across an article about using a "commonplace book", or a book to record "unremarkable activities". The article discussed using a common book to keep a listing of the events of the day.
At last, I thought, something I can relate to! See, journaling for me has always been a sporadic process. Intimidated by the thought that any journaling has to be profound, I avoid writing in mine for weeks on end because I just don't have anything profound to say. I further complicate this process by reading journals of great writers and finding my entries pitiful in comparison. And so the page remains blank because the inner critic has already squashed the creative process.
On the other hand, keeping a list of the days happenings seemed to be painless. I decided to give it a try.
I'm one week into the practice of using the common book. It's a remarkably freeing process. The common book doesn't require long, dramatic entries - just simple, short bullet point lists will do. I can fill it out in ten minutes or less. I keep the notebook in my purse and often jot something down during the day. Somedays the entries are pretty mundane - "got groceries", "chicken for supper", "finished newsletter". Once in a while something a little more inspiring slips through - "drove TJ to Red Rock and saw an awesome rainbow over the mountain. Skies soon clouded over again and went back to a misty rain. Weather site on the web calls it 'distant precipitation' ".
This listing of daily events frees me up to be more creative in my other journal. This journal is more like a scrapbook. Larger and with big blank pages that I can draw on, paste on, and scribble on. Sometimes I'll paste emails and letters into it, or notes from friends. I save movie and concert ticket stubs and paste those in - adding a little note about the performance. If I want to write a long diatribe, I have lots of room. I can cut out words and pictures from magazines and make a collage.
Because I've cleared out the clutter of my day and poured it into the common book, I can play in my scrapbook journal as often or as little as I want. I know I'll mine the common book later - to remember things that have happened, to write more about something I've recorded, to dig out nuggets for a poem.
No longer do my days seem to disappear in a blur. The minutiae of my everyday life is duly jotted down in my little common book. * o
At last, I thought, something I can relate to! See, journaling for me has always been a sporadic process. Intimidated by the thought that any journaling has to be profound, I avoid writing in mine for weeks on end because I just don't have anything profound to say. I further complicate this process by reading journals of great writers and finding my entries pitiful in comparison. And so the page remains blank because the inner critic has already squashed the creative process.
On the other hand, keeping a list of the days happenings seemed to be painless. I decided to give it a try.
I'm one week into the practice of using the common book. It's a remarkably freeing process. The common book doesn't require long, dramatic entries - just simple, short bullet point lists will do. I can fill it out in ten minutes or less. I keep the notebook in my purse and often jot something down during the day. Somedays the entries are pretty mundane - "got groceries", "chicken for supper", "finished newsletter". Once in a while something a little more inspiring slips through - "drove TJ to Red Rock and saw an awesome rainbow over the mountain. Skies soon clouded over again and went back to a misty rain. Weather site on the web calls it 'distant precipitation' ".
This listing of daily events frees me up to be more creative in my other journal. This journal is more like a scrapbook. Larger and with big blank pages that I can draw on, paste on, and scribble on. Sometimes I'll paste emails and letters into it, or notes from friends. I save movie and concert ticket stubs and paste those in - adding a little note about the performance. If I want to write a long diatribe, I have lots of room. I can cut out words and pictures from magazines and make a collage.
Because I've cleared out the clutter of my day and poured it into the common book, I can play in my scrapbook journal as often or as little as I want. I know I'll mine the common book later - to remember things that have happened, to write more about something I've recorded, to dig out nuggets for a poem.
No longer do my days seem to disappear in a blur. The minutiae of my everyday life is duly jotted down in my little common book. * o
Sunday, May 29, 2005
Death of an Appliance - Reflections on Stress and Prayer
My week started and ended the same way - with the death of an appliance.
It started Monday morning. In the middle of drying my hair, with a half wet head, the motor on my hair dryer sped up, let out a high pitch whine and quit with the odorous aroma of burnt wiring.
It ended Friday evening. Wanting a second cup of tea, I flicked the switch on the electric kettle. Nothing happened. The very kettle that had just made a boiling cup of tea not more than half an hour previous could not even muster up a semi-boil. It had just enough energy to operate the "on" light and that was all.
Now the hair dryer's death I could understand. It had lived a long life and served its master well. But the kettle? It was barely a year old, it had hardly even begun to make tea! Sigh - so young to pass on.
My appliances are an odd parody of how I've been feeling lately. A little worn out, a little ready to give up. Sometimes my motor's running on a high whine and I think I catch a whiff of burnt wiring as I'm running out the door. At other times, I simply refuse to start up. The light's on, but I'm not boiling!
Good old stress has caught up to me. I become angry, resentful, and withdrawn. It was during this withdrawn, melancholy time, looking for words of comfort from scripture, that I was perusing The Book of Common Prayer, and came across this prayer for Eventide:
O Lord, support us all the day long of this troublous life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, Lord, in thy mercy, grant us safe lodging, a holy rest, and peace at the last; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
All the day long of this troublous life - that one phrase says it all. The writer of this prayer understood stress. And reminds me in whose peace I rest.
May the Lord grant you safe lodging, a holy rest and peace.
@2005 Eveline Maedel - All rights reserved * o
It started Monday morning. In the middle of drying my hair, with a half wet head, the motor on my hair dryer sped up, let out a high pitch whine and quit with the odorous aroma of burnt wiring.
It ended Friday evening. Wanting a second cup of tea, I flicked the switch on the electric kettle. Nothing happened. The very kettle that had just made a boiling cup of tea not more than half an hour previous could not even muster up a semi-boil. It had just enough energy to operate the "on" light and that was all.
Now the hair dryer's death I could understand. It had lived a long life and served its master well. But the kettle? It was barely a year old, it had hardly even begun to make tea! Sigh - so young to pass on.
My appliances are an odd parody of how I've been feeling lately. A little worn out, a little ready to give up. Sometimes my motor's running on a high whine and I think I catch a whiff of burnt wiring as I'm running out the door. At other times, I simply refuse to start up. The light's on, but I'm not boiling!
Good old stress has caught up to me. I become angry, resentful, and withdrawn. It was during this withdrawn, melancholy time, looking for words of comfort from scripture, that I was perusing The Book of Common Prayer, and came across this prayer for Eventide:
O Lord, support us all the day long of this troublous life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, Lord, in thy mercy, grant us safe lodging, a holy rest, and peace at the last; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
All the day long of this troublous life - that one phrase says it all. The writer of this prayer understood stress. And reminds me in whose peace I rest.
May the Lord grant you safe lodging, a holy rest and peace.
@2005 Eveline Maedel - All rights reserved * o
Basho! Banana Tree
Thoughts on a Haiku Master
A banana plant in the autumn gale -
I listen to the dripping of rain
Into a basin at night.
~ Basho Matsuo (1644- 1694)
Basho sits outside his hut, gazing at his beloved banana plant. Rain falls, winds blow, seasons come and go, and still he gazes. Pouring boiling hot water onto fragrant tea leaves in a clay pot, he inhales the rising steam. The leaves of the banana plant rustle in the moonlight.
Basho, where are your drafts, outlines, rough sketches? Do you journal? How many hours a day do you write? Where are your morning pages, your marketing plans, your queries, your submissions?
A smile cracks his face, as Basho dips brush into ink and strokes the paper on his lap. In three short lines, it is finished.
In three short lines - the heart and soul of the poet. It is finished.
@2005 Eveline Maedel All rights reserved * o
A banana plant in the autumn gale -
I listen to the dripping of rain
Into a basin at night.
~ Basho Matsuo (1644- 1694)
Basho sits outside his hut, gazing at his beloved banana plant. Rain falls, winds blow, seasons come and go, and still he gazes. Pouring boiling hot water onto fragrant tea leaves in a clay pot, he inhales the rising steam. The leaves of the banana plant rustle in the moonlight.
Basho, where are your drafts, outlines, rough sketches? Do you journal? How many hours a day do you write? Where are your morning pages, your marketing plans, your queries, your submissions?
A smile cracks his face, as Basho dips brush into ink and strokes the paper on his lap. In three short lines, it is finished.
In three short lines - the heart and soul of the poet. It is finished.
@2005 Eveline Maedel All rights reserved * o
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Phantom of the Opera
I have a cold. My son had knee surgery last week. Two seemingly unrelated events, yet they brought us together this afternoon. How? Since his surgery, my living-room has become recovery room central for my son. He eats, sleeps and watches TV on the pull out bed in the center of the room. We live around him.
A wicked head cold today helped me to decide to stay home and rest myself. Since I had a "captive" audience, I snuggled up on the other couch beside him and popped in my new DVD, "Phantom of the Opera". He couldn't very well run out of the room.
I have been in love with the Phantom story since first hearing the Andrew Lloyd Webber soundtrack years ago. It had always been a dream of mine to see the cast perform on stage at Pantages Theater in Toronto, but that dream never materialized. I was thrilled when I heard that a motion picture had been made and couldn't wait to get my hands on the DVD when it was released this month.
It did not disappoint. Emmy Rossum's voice sent goose-bumps up and down my arms. It was sheer joy to hear the all familiar tunes performed. And the visual effects in the movie are stunning.
For over two hours, the two of us were spellbound and glued to the TV. And what did my captive teenage son think at the end? He gave the film a resounding thumbs up.
Several years ago I read Susan Kay's novel, "Phantom". If you are haunted by the Phantom as I am, you have got to get your hands on a copy of this novel. Kay takes Gaston Leroux's original "Phantom of the Opera" and builds on it, digging deep into what created the Phantom, making him more than just the opera ghost, but an incredible three-dimensional character. Man or monster? I'll leave that to you decide, after you've read her story.
Just be sure to read it late at night, with the lights low. What's that chilling draft you feel on your neck? Is that music you hear?
"Beneath the opera house....I know he's there........." * o
A wicked head cold today helped me to decide to stay home and rest myself. Since I had a "captive" audience, I snuggled up on the other couch beside him and popped in my new DVD, "Phantom of the Opera". He couldn't very well run out of the room.
I have been in love with the Phantom story since first hearing the Andrew Lloyd Webber soundtrack years ago. It had always been a dream of mine to see the cast perform on stage at Pantages Theater in Toronto, but that dream never materialized. I was thrilled when I heard that a motion picture had been made and couldn't wait to get my hands on the DVD when it was released this month.
It did not disappoint. Emmy Rossum's voice sent goose-bumps up and down my arms. It was sheer joy to hear the all familiar tunes performed. And the visual effects in the movie are stunning.
For over two hours, the two of us were spellbound and glued to the TV. And what did my captive teenage son think at the end? He gave the film a resounding thumbs up.
Several years ago I read Susan Kay's novel, "Phantom". If you are haunted by the Phantom as I am, you have got to get your hands on a copy of this novel. Kay takes Gaston Leroux's original "Phantom of the Opera" and builds on it, digging deep into what created the Phantom, making him more than just the opera ghost, but an incredible three-dimensional character. Man or monster? I'll leave that to you decide, after you've read her story.
Just be sure to read it late at night, with the lights low. What's that chilling draft you feel on your neck? Is that music you hear?
"Beneath the opera house....I know he's there........." * o
Sunday, May 08, 2005
With Apologies to Bill Shakespeare
More Travels on the Web
I have a few gems to share this week from my journeys on the web.
Rhodi Alers de Lopez
Writer and singer, Rhodi Alers de Lopez has just released her first CD, "Me Faltan Palabras" (My words are insufficient). A country flavored gospel album, with words in Spanish, this is a beautiful and uplifting work of praise music. Listening to it this morning, I was reminded that no matter what language you sing in (Spanish/English) or what style (gospel/opera), music truly is the language of the soul. Rhodi is also a writer, and her blog, Inkspirations, is worth checking out.
Nana's Notecards
If you're searching for notecards and such, check out Vicki Hawkins website, "Nana's Notecards & Such" You can choose from Vicki's designs featured on the site, or have Vicki custom design notecards for you. I was more than pleased with the cards Vicki did up for me. She's a delight to work with, and VERY fast!
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Throne
Humor writer Georgia Richardson has just released her first novel, A Funny Thing Happened on The Way to the Throne. Available in 2 weeks, you can pre-order copies now on her website. Hurry, they are bound to sell fast - Da Queen has a lot of fans!
And thanks to Erica Miner, for linking to my blog on her website! * o
Rhodi Alers de Lopez
Writer and singer, Rhodi Alers de Lopez has just released her first CD, "Me Faltan Palabras" (My words are insufficient). A country flavored gospel album, with words in Spanish, this is a beautiful and uplifting work of praise music. Listening to it this morning, I was reminded that no matter what language you sing in (Spanish/English) or what style (gospel/opera), music truly is the language of the soul. Rhodi is also a writer, and her blog, Inkspirations, is worth checking out.
Nana's Notecards
If you're searching for notecards and such, check out Vicki Hawkins website, "Nana's Notecards & Such" You can choose from Vicki's designs featured on the site, or have Vicki custom design notecards for you. I was more than pleased with the cards Vicki did up for me. She's a delight to work with, and VERY fast!
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Throne
Humor writer Georgia Richardson has just released her first novel, A Funny Thing Happened on The Way to the Throne. Available in 2 weeks, you can pre-order copies now on her website. Hurry, they are bound to sell fast - Da Queen has a lot of fans!
And thanks to Erica Miner, for linking to my blog on her website! * o
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