The Life Imagined

I have a theory that even though we grow up - and for some, that's obviously more a physical process than it is an emotional one - we still carry around with us to some degree little versions of ourselves at all of the ages that we've attained prior to our current one.  If I'm riding down the road and hear the opening strains of "Footloose," my 18 year-old self pops out and starts DWD. . . dancing while driving. :-)  When I ride by the site of the old Thomson City Pool, my 9 year-old self pines for the place where I first took swimming lessons and spent summer afternoons with neighborhood friends.  (If you've read Time and Tide , this shouldn't surprise you.  And really. . . if you haven't, why haven't you by now? :-))  And despite the fact that my single days are long behind me, hearing about anybody's bad and self-esteem wrecking breakup evokes my 26 year-old self and a particularly bad heartbreak that I went through that year - and although

So, about this "entry about every six weeks" thing. . . since our last episode of "The Life Imagined," I've been a busier-than-usual-these-days girl.  Around the time of my last entry, we were getting cranked up with one-act play at Thomson High School - I was directing - and the resulting daily practices.  Our competition play was Ford Ainsworth's "Persephone," which I directed at LCHS back in 1995 (aka around the time that Claude and I started dating. . . and come to think of it, before any of this year's cast was born).  Fortunately, the slew of bad things that happened toward the end of that production (too many to name here) didn't happen this time, and THS repeated as region champs!  We went on to state the following weekend, gaining experience that will come in handy next year as only three of the cast members were seniors and enjoying some INCREDIBLE plays.  (<--- This photo, courtesy of Johna Wright, was taken at the end of a ve

Yes, I know. . . it has been a while since I've updated this blog.  It has also been a while since the end of summer vacation.  Coincidence?  I think not. :-) Given that my last blog was sort of one long rant (and also my most viewed post by far. . . go figure), I planned on writing something a bit more sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows this time about my new job and how it's going.  However, a conversation that I've been having with a young working mom this afternoon and evening has prompted me to save that topic for another day. Let me clarify something right off the bat:  what I am about to write has absolutely NOTHING to do with my own husband.  The fact that I am sitting at Panera Bread and writing is due to his encouraging me to go chill for a while after I dropped off a preview copy of my book to a local bookstore. . . hoping to consign and do a book signing there, but that's also another story for another day.  Everything I'm about to say here, he and I

In my "What Is Your Faction?" blog, I promised to follow up on comments that I made in it in future blogs.  I covered the "Mom's Night Out" comment in my last blog. . . in this one, I'll explain why I think I was so grumpy that day. Besides the fact that they're famous American authors, what do Herman Melville, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Zora Neale Hurston have in common?  All three of them wrote what most would deem now great American novels ( Moby Dick , The Great Gatsby , and Their Eyes Were Watching God ) that didn't sell all that well during their lifetimes but were rediscovered later and became widely praised and often studied classics.  I was never sadistic enough as an English teacher to assign more than an excerpt of  Moby Dick - most print versions are over 500 pages - but I did teach and love the other two.  And I always found it sad that those authors poured so much of themselves into what they felt was a great accomplishment. . . and f

This afternoon, I'm getting some WiFi writing time while my mom is at the dentist in Martinez.  Not surprisingly, this means I'm sitting at Starbucks and sipping a cinnamon dolce latte as I type away on the laptop. . . I've concluded that my best place for creativity is Starbucks and that my best time for creativity is between midnight and 2:00 A. M.  (That's part of the reason that I'm trying my best to finish The Best of Times , the follow-up to Time and Tide , before school and pre-7:30 departure times re-enter my life in a few weeks.)  I'm doing this without any sense of guilt whatsoever this afternoon because I'm being a dutiful daughter on this trip away from home and kids.  Other trips when I'm out just for a mom's day or night out?  Not so much. I mentioned in my last blog that I'd clarify later why I think I'm avoiding the movie Mom's Night Out :  for me, there's really no such thing.  Even though I do breathe that deep sig

I woke up in a profoundly grumpy mood this morning.  Okay, to be fair, I don't ever wake up feeling sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows because I'm the antithesis of a morning person, but I usually do become friendlier after I've had time to gain consciousness.  This morning, though, my mood didn't improve as the morning wore on.  I have to admit that I sort of snapped at Claude when he suggested that it might do me good to get out for a little while. . . but then I asked myself, "What do you  do when Claude is showing signs of the grumps?"  Answer?  I sweetly send him off to see a movie and eat wings or something.  Thus, I took him up on his offer and went to Augusta. When I mentioned going to Masters (read: all tickets $2.50) to see a movie, he mentioned Mom's Night Out , but I opted instead for seeing Divergent for a third time.  (I'll save why I think I'm sort of avoiding  Mom's Night Out  for another blog.)  Why, you ask, do I keep goi

Greetings. . . and welcome to my new blog!  Now, if I'm saying new blog, that would indicate that there is also an old  blog, and there is.  If memory serves me correctly, I posted to it roughly five times. . . which means that my track record as a faithful blogger isn't exactly stellar. So why am I trying again now?  I'll be honest. . . I'm trying to build an audience for myself as a writer.  I've self-published my first novel, and its fan base is enthusiastic but very small.  As clicking on a blog entry is much easier - and somewhat cheaper - than buying a book, I'm hoping that people who might not rush to buy a book might read what I'm writing here, decide that I'm worth the risk of a few dollars, and make a purchase. That's not my only motive, though.  For 26 years, I taught English. . . which means that I taught literature. . . which means that whether or not my audiences of high school students were always paying attention (and they weren&#