Tartan Scottie Tuesday, Dec 9 2008 

Auntie M hasn’t figured out the origins, but there’s something about a black Scottie dog she adores.

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And it slays me even better with a tartan ribbon around his neck or blanket on~ there is always one being walked somewhere in every novel I write.  One day some reader will notice this and write to me about it.

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Maybe it’s because they remind me of licorice, and I LOVE licorice!

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I have never wanted to own this particular type of dog~I just love the way they look: scruffy (I’m big on scruffy, being a kind of scruffy person myself); feisty; fun-loving; and just darn cute.  Kind of regal in a small package, and I’m big on small packages, being height-challenged myself.

I think I were to ever own one, he’d have to be called MacTavish, or Hamish, don’t you think?

What’s your thing that just gets to you? (in a good way!)

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At Christmas symbol I use dishes with  a Scottie with a tartan rim for me and Doc; I have just those two plates and bowl and wish I had the entire set of dishes for winter use.  How decadent!  Whilst the snowmen and angels and holly abounds, look closely and you’ll find a few Scotties on our tree (with tartan collars, of course).

John Royston Saturday, Dec 6 2008 

Auntie M acknowledges upfront that probably no one reading this will know who John Royston is, so I will tell you.

He was my tenth grade English teacher, the man who turned me on to Shakespeare, plays, acting and writing.  He was jovial, inspiring, loved literature, and understood my bibliomania.  He was the one teacher who encouraged me to be a writer.

Recently he’d been on my mind and I decided it was time to try to find him, to thank him for his influence and to tell him that after a 30 year successful nursing career, I was finally doing what he and I both knew I’d always wanted to do–be a writer.  I knew he would be happy that I’d made it there.

I figured he’d be retired by now, but couldn’t find him anywhere I searched.  Then in an email to an old high school pal, I mentioned trying to find him and she told me she thought he had been a member of a theatre troupe in Port Washington on Long Island.

Tonight I finally stole a few minutes to Google with great anticipation: John Royston, Port Washington, NY.

And up came his obituary.  He is being buried tomorrow, having died earlier this week after ” a valiant fight with cancer.”

I waited too long to tell this fine man how much his teaching had meant to me and I am so sad about that.  I signed his condolence book and explained who I was to his wife, but it won’t be the same.

My message tonight to all of you out there is: don’t put off what you want to do, especially if it’s something that could warm the heart of someone else.

Sad in North Carolina tonight.  JR, Rest in Peace.

Did you Know? Thursday, Dec 4 2008 

The loveliest, most history-filled library might be the Bodleian in Oxford, with its Duke Humphreys ceiling in the Divinity School, and the round Radcliffe Camera:

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You actually have to take an oath to use it, not to bring in food or liquids, or to deface the books, or light fires with the pages.  Really.

BUT~

The highest library in the world is on the 60th floor of a luxury hotel in Shanghai.

It towers above street level at 7 feet, 6 inches, and is open to the public.

But you’d want to take the elevator: it’s 1,435 steps up the staircase!

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I wonder which languages the books are in?  It’s a Marriot, I believe, so there should be a huge selection.

Auntie M is a library fan, and these buildings hold special appeal to me.  (OK, maybe not this tall one, but you get my drift).  Giant repositories of all those delights that await me.  Stories and legends and lives to be explored.  Lose me in the stacks and I might never emerge.

For a great blurb about books you can smell and hold in your hand, check out the Screw Iowa website and read the Pub Crawl on Kindle~it will getcha going!

Auntie M will leave you tonight with these words from Eudora Welty:

I cannot remember a time when I was not in love with them–with the books themselves, cover and binding and the paper they were printed on, with their smsell and their weight and with their possession in my arms, captured and carried off to myself.

A woman after my own heart!  You rock, EW!

PD James Strikes Again Tuesday, Dec 2 2008 

Most of you know Auntie M adores Phyllis Dorothy James White, the former British Civil Servant who writes my favorite kind of mystery novel–full of the atmosphere of the setting, delving deeply into the psyche of the characters, and with a bloody good puzzle of a plot to round it all out.  It’s a pet peeve of mine that mysteries are not considered ‘literary’ when there are some fine novels and writers in this genre, as in this case.

Baroness James of Holland Park has done it again with The Private Patient, and I vow not to give any of the details or plot points away for her fans.  She continues to amaze me with the depth of her writing.  The book is a must-read for mystery fans, featuring her poetry-writing Commander, Adam Dalgliesh, and his team, and is set at a private clinic in Dorset.  A plastic surgeon’s clinic, which is ironic as Doc is a retired PlS, but I claim no influence there.

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I am fortunate to have a correspondence with her after we met when I interviewed her in 1999.  She wrote to me this fall that after a hip replacement operation she’d had a bout of heart failure, and spent the time in an Oxford rehab hospital where email and cell phones were forbidden, letting her finish this novel.  She shows no signs of slowing down at 88, health permitted, and I for one am very pleased.

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Doc showed me a recent article in the Wall St Journal about PDJ and the new book, and here’s what she has to say on the age old question of my pet peeve:

WSJ:  What do you think about the assumption that detective novels are sub-literature?

PDJ: I think at its best the detective story can be literature, and certainly in England, that old feeling that this is inferior has just disappeared.  I was chosen to be chair of the judges of the Booker prize, and I don’t think that would have happened if they thought I was dabbling in inferior literature.  And I don’t think I would be in the House of Lords if they thought I was dabbling in inferior literature.

Nuff said.  Great lady.  Read the book~

Happy Thanksgiving! My Top Ten List Thursday, Nov 27 2008 

Auntie M is waiting to put the cornbread in the oven, and decided to sit down to list Top Ten list of things to be thankful for this year:

1. My family, always number 1:  The best husband ever, the nicest children, the greatest grands.  My delight and my treasure.

2. My writing group: Screw Iowa beats the band.  These four women keep my writing, keep me advancing, keep me feeling I can call myself a writer.

3. My home: The Briary is a sweet retreat for us after losing our NY home in a fire.  Phoenix from the ashes time.  Lovely view right on the river.

4. My friends: Who keep me sane at times of chaos, the touchpoint in an everchanging world.

5. My dogs: Those creatures of unswervering love, always ready to please, always ready to be loved and to love you in return.  Doggie breath rules~

6. Nature: that surrounds us every day.  The deer, beer, foxes, multitudes of birds, the tiny chipmunks and grey squirrels, (pox to red ants and spiders, sorry).  The woods, filled with pine cones and leafy oaks; the river filled with fish and on occasion porpoises.  Moonlight that dances off the river and stars that seem to go on forever.  Fresh air and sunshine.

7. My writing: my solace, my treat, my accomplishment.  Days of research and nights of plotting.  Making up tragedy and comedy and taking a turn at making things turn out just the way I want them to.

8. My books: the material things I adore, the greatest hobby to travel to far places and inhabit other worlds; the paper, the scent of ink, the firmness in my hands.  The great writers to look forward to; the great worlds they create and I get to inhabit for a time.

9. My country: a nation where we can have vast differences but smooth transitions, where literally anyone can imagine growing up to be President, where despite its harshness at times, it is still the embodiment of a melting pot.

10. My health: my bionic knees and crumbling back and rolls of girth , laughter, that still houses my forgetful mind and conscience and my heart.

What’s on your list of things to be thankful for????

Tag, You’re IT! Wednesday, Nov 26 2008 

GREEN GIRL tagged me with a one word assault on my brain.  Here goes:

Where is your cell phone? car
Where is your significant other? library
Your hair color? reddyblonde
Your mother? neurotic
Your father? dead
Your favorite thing? sex
Your dream last night? Bellerose
Your dream/goal? published
The room you’re in? library

Your hobby? reading
Your fear? wheelchair
Where do you want to be in 6 years? England
Where were you last night? home
What you’re not? skinny
One of your wish-list items? books

Where you grew up? Floral Park
Last thing you did? cook
What are you wearing? sweats
Your TV? off
Your pet? muppet-like
Your computer?SOS

Your mood? Tired
Missing someone? Mel
Your car? dusty
Something you’re not wearing? underwear
Favorite store? Blackwell’s
Your summer? mosquito-y
Love someone? Infinitely
Your favorite color? Blue
When is the last time you laughed? Yesterday
Last time you cried?
Hospital

Now I’m tagging Nina Romano and Hen, if you’re out there reading!

Yowser! Wednesday, Nov 26 2008 

Tonight Auntie M and Paramedic Son are watching the finals of Dancing with the Stars.  Yes, I know it’s a silly reality show, not worth the time I spend on it, filled with so-so celebs, but i enjoy ballroom dancing, an when it’s done right, it rocks.  So I watch it here and there, and we’re down to two.  One is a good dancer, the other a good entertainer; one is a model/host and mother of four; the other is a burly football player.  I like that the football player, Warren Sapp, has made it to the finals, because I’ve enjoyed watching this large man get jiggy with it.  He’s become light on his feet, has loosened his hips, and isn’t afraid of new things.  I like the woman because despite an admitted poor memory(and iwth four kids home, one 8 mos, I totally understand), she’s attractive, she did the dances the way she should be done, and she brought a big smile to it with long legs, and a sexy elegance.

Wait no longer: it’s Brooke Burke and her dancer partner whatever his name is Blondie!

OK, really bad post, but I’m super tired.  It’s been like having a new born baby this last week.

NEED SLEEP!

When Will There Be Good News? Friday, Nov 21 2008 

Kate Atkinson is an author whose books I admire, especially her series featuring (the reluctant) former PI Jackson Brodie, who finds himself embroiled in rescuing people, whether he want to or not.

Atkinson won the Whitbread Book of the Year award for Behind the Scenes at the Museum, her first novel.  Case Histories and One Good Turn are the first two featuring Brodie, an enigmatic man whose private life is as messy as the cases he gets involved in.

I thought I knew the depth of this author until reading When Will There Be Good News? Here is a writer at the height of her powers, her characters so real they jump off the page, her plot as twisted as a squiggly tree branch.  The resolution of the threads she presents are ultimately satisfying, and yet filled with surprise.

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Don’t miss this book from a fantastic writer.  Have I steered you wrong yet?

On another note, Paramedic son is home from the hospital and staying with us so his wife can go back to work.  He filled with gas, gets to have his mum give him an injection in the belly twice a day, and is soldiering on.  We’re thrilled to have him here and thank you all for your good wishes and positive light.

Positive Energy Monday, Nov 17 2008 

Bloggers unite:

Auntie M is hoping for each of you to send some positive energy tonight and tomorrow to Paramedic son.

He’s a VERY good medic

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He’s a volunteer fireman

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Yep, that’s him, sunglasses in the back row, with some of his EMT-Firemen team.  Their unit is over a hundred years old in the town of Belhaven, NC.

He’s kind to old people, wonderful with children, ruthless with drug addicts.  He’s sensitive and usually cheerful (being a Gemini, he’s mostly very, very good but on occasion can be horrid).  He’s a married guy but he’s still my baby.

Said son is having surgery tomorrow.  He stopped smoking three years ago and we are very happy and proud of him on so many levels.  Now this surgery will get him into shape, and as much as we support him and know things will be just fine, Mum still worries. . .so please, send your good thoughts, prayers, blessings or plain positive energy winging it’s way to him.  He deserves it.

And thank you~

Writing and Books and Plays (and NO math!) Saturday, Nov 15 2008 

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Auntie M has long hated math in any form.  Not because I failed at it, although I did come close with trigonometry) but because it frustrates me in its solidness.  I like fluidity better, words that flow and caress, ideas that are acted out in front of me, books that take me on travels and adventures.

That’s why I enjoyed this trip to NY so much on so many levels.

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In this view, the Chrysler Building, that famous example of Art Deco architecture, is on the left near the MetLife Building; the Empire State Bldg (and site of two of my favorite movies, “Love Affair” and “Sleepless in Seattle”) on the right.  There’s something about the cosmopolitan excitement of the city that never fails to energize me.

This trip held several surprises, too.  Three of us from Screw Iowa were going up to meet with The Agent Who Knows All about the status of the book proposal he’d sent out for the book all five of us wrote as a collaboration on our writing workshop method.  Lauren was practically sitting shiva on the Jersey turnpike, convinced we were turned down by all four.  Nina was saying novena’s in the back seat.  Lo and behold, the news was that ALL FOUR publishers want to read our full manuscript!  Great news for any writer to hear.  We’re fixing a few typo’s, pinching and tweaking, and it will be on its way shortly.  Godspeed and then some.

We followed that with our Screw Iowa presentation at The Writers Room, a mecca for writers who need quiet space to work away from their often small and/or noisy homes.  After our hour talk and question period, the group stayed, heavily into a publishing discussion. . .and stayed. . .and stayed–and hour and 45 minutes after our time ran out.  Another great experience, although dinner was awfully late that evening.

Speaking of dinner, I don’t know how people survive with Big Apple prices all the time.  At 9PM at night we still had to wait 15 minutes for a table at a restaurant.  Little signs of a recession up there.  But I digress.

That same weekend our Nina found out her second book of poetry will be published in 2010 by Kitsune Press.  Called “Coffeehouse Meditations,” half of the poems were written at and are observations from Starbucks!  We finally peeled her off the ceiling with delight to see an Off-Broadway play on its closing night, “Blue By Morning” which we adored.

We also saw “The 39 Steps” and it lived up to its promise.  How can you miss when satirizing the famous Hitchcock spy movie, with 148 parts played by two men?  The staging was a choreography of sorts, with an actor going out one door dressed as a detective and coming right back in the next as a woman.  Both of these men mastered a different accent, stance, facial expression, etc. for each character.  It was truly amazing.  Funny and masterful, with references to Hitch’s other movies and many laughs.  There is something about live theatre that surpasses performing in any other modality, the sweat flying off the actors in the hot lights, the pulse of the laughter of the audience, the music, the lights, the heart of it all.

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This is the cast I saw, with Sam Robards playing the harassed gentleman who gets caught up in a spy caper.  The two men on the right exchange the various parts; note the garters and socks on the man in the middle that stay put during any and all of his varied roles.

It was a great few days away, although Radar, Murray, and of course, Doc, were all mighty happy to see me.

There’s something great about going away and having new experiences, but it’s always good to be home again.

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