Pam Webb

a writer's journey as a reader

Archive for the category “Writing”

The Wonderful World of Seven


The grandkiddo turned seven this year, part of the reason of the yearly sojourn.  You see, my birthday is one day before hers. Someday this will take on greater significance, and I envision an annual midnight call between us to celebrate our birthday at the same moment.

While A.A. Milne celebrated being six

image: Wikipedia. Six has its tricks, yet seven is heaven-ly

I delight in finding so much changed after one year:

  • she can read to me!–“Please read me a book” is now a give and take opportunity for sharing the delights of reading
  • she is more reasonable–melt downs are infrequent now that logic is not such a foreign concept
  • she can ride a bike–tips and spills and “I’m tired!” aren’t even part of the lexcicon (perhaps one spill)
  • she can tolerate outings much better–“Are we there yet?” doesn’t much occur due to being occupied with a book
  • she is much more content to answers to questions involving “How come?” and “Why does?” because her understanding of the world is more complete
  • she likes jokes and riddles–a shared sense of humor is definitely a bonding bonus
  • she can carry on a conversation–there is actual dialogue instead of answering a stream of questions
  • she enjoys classic cartoons as much as I–Tom and Jerry, Bugs Bunny rock
  • she can go to bed a bit later–9 pm vacation bedtime doesn’t involve cranky kid syndrome the next day

However…

Seven is not quite a perfect number, although it is perfection in the making I notice these glitches:

  • loud and not-so-loud are not volume options: it’s pretty much tuned to loud
  • cause and effect aren’t quite connected synapses yet: such as jumping on the bed with possible breakables in the vicinity, like my headphones
  • full and empty are only relative terms when it comes to hunger
  • bored and engaged entail thinking and non-thinking strategies: iPads are handy but guilt-inducing babysitters
  • tone is important and attitude is quickly mimicked: in other words speak to them as I want to be spoken to
  • sarcasm is a learned nuance as is teasing: “Do you mean that for reals?”
  • sleeping in past 6:30 am is a foreign concept: okay, to be honest she at least waits for me to make a movement of waking up before pouncing on me with conversation (“DO you KNoW TIGERS haVe StRIPeS?”)

I project eight will be much different. Eight seems to be the new thirteen these days as I watch kids with iPads and iPhones in hand wander about. There is a savvy that is a bit disconcerting. I remain hopeful since the grandkiddo lives in a TV free household (amazing, I know) and has been mostly homeschooled so far.

For now I relish the nearly perfect age of seven. She still finds blowing bubbles a delight. I shall not worry yet when my love of parks and playgrounds and bubbles and cartoons become passe in her eyes.

Unexpected Bits of Wisdom


Lately I’ve been noticing more and more products are sporting bits of wisdom as part of the package.

Halls Defense Multi-Blend Supplement Drops, Harvest Cherry

The first notice came with my occasional binges on Dove Dark Chocolate Bites.  It took me a wrapper or two to realize pithy little “promises” hid within. For instance, “Encourage Your Sense of Daring” and “Smile Before Bed. You’ll Sleep Better” are two gems.  I started calling these my chocolate fortune cookies and began collecting them.  If you are trying to cut down on chocolate–I know I need to– *GaSp* did I really just say that?–you can unwrap a few calorie free promises at https://www.dovechocolate.com/epromise.

Recently I discovered Honest Tea and upon popping open the cap I found some great quotes.  What I really like is the variety:

“Now I know the secret of making the best persons; it is grow in the open air and eat and sleep with the earth.”–Walt Whitman

“Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre minds.”–Albert Einstein

“The truth is a beautiful and terrible things, and should therefore be treated with caution.”–J.K. Rowling

“The world is moved along not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes but also by the aggregate of the tiny pushes of each honest worker.”–Helen Keller

“A common mistake people make when trying to design something completely foolproof is to underestimate the ingenuity of complete fools.”–Douglas Noel Adams

“In order to a realist you must believe in miracles.”–David Ben-Gurion

“You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt.” –Samuel Ullman

Finding bits of wisdom on drink caps probably isn’t too unusual, after all you can often find prizes and such depending on the drink.  But what really surprised me was finding “A Pep Talk in Every Drop” as I popped a cough drop.  I’m not much in the habit of caring about getting inspired when my throat’s scratchy. Although it probably isn’t so bad to make people feel good when they are feeling bad.  Would these words cheer you up once your cough in under control:

“March forward!”  “Keep your chin up.” “Now you get it in you.” “Elicit a few “wows” today.”

I think when I’m done teachering I will look into wrangling up a job for some company supplying these pity bits of wisdom.  Hmm, I wonder how I find that listing at Linked In–“Wisdom generator available–light and deep bits created upon request.”

Any other bits or promises hiding out there?

 

 

 

 

 

 

O Me, O My, My Birthday


Here is a math problem:

“Person X, soon to have a birthday, realizes this birthday will be the same chronological year as the birth year. Person X also realizes the birth year and achieved age are flipped numbers of the year of high school graduation. Given the birth year, chronological age, and graduation year, how old is Person X.”

I think I had this math problem in my eighth grade textbook.  This is probably why I decided to major in English.

But it’s true: I realized something unique about this year’s birthday–I shall turn the age of my birth year, at least the last two digits. When I compute that in my brain it sounds like I’m much older than I really am. What it comes down to is this:
I’m not sure how I feel about this particular chronos marking.

  •  I’m not old enough to retire, although some establishments elect to grant me a discount.
  • I’m past AARP’s initial invitation.
  • I’m old enough to know better, yet still have the gumption to still give it a whirl. Then again, it depends on the “it.” Bungee-jumping requires a deeper consideration these days as does the all you can eat buffet.
  • I can remember the “when I was”, although I am amazed at how long ago the when truly was, plus some of the details are fuzzy.
  • I no longer look forward to birthday cake because I only see calories laughing at me under all those candles.
  • Speaking of candles, the little skinny invids have been replaced by the fat doubles. I find this an insulting truism of my present state of figure.

My mother raised me thinking birthdays were really extra special. Part of that reasoning stems from waking up and seeing flags hanging up all over town and in front of everyone’s house. I never questioned my mother’s ability to achieve this. She was that kind of mother. It wasn’t until I turned about twelve that I learned June 14th signified Flag Day and hanging out the flag was expected. Please no comments about my naiveté or lack of American holiday knowledge. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I discovered another disenchantment–birthdays are only really a big deal up until the age of 21.

The Dr. knows how to make the special day special!

All the big deal birthday milestones take place in this order:

1. turning one: not too cognizant but it’s a big deal nonetheless
2. turning five: Yay! Go to school!
3. turning ten: Wow! double-digit
4. turning thirteen: All right! Teen Time
5. turning sixteen: Yes, I’m gonna drive my car
6. turning eighteen: Yay! Get out of school! Oh yeah–vote for important stuff too.
7. turning twenty-one: Omigosh! I’m considered an adult–all kinds of perks.

After twenty-one there are some milestones to consider such as thirty, forty, fifty–okay, I’ll stop there. All those in between and beyond years are rather tedious and accumulative. Yes, it is nice to get cards and presents, and okay, one small piece of cake.  The wake up to ME day (check out the Dr. Seuss book) isn’t happening anymore.  Is that sad or a state of reality?

For instance, instead of relaxing and trying to encourage the Queen for a Day mode, I allowed myself to get talked into proctoring for the ACT–funny how extra money is a motivator when the car is acting up. This is not how I envision the first part of my birthday. Lounging in bed definitely was part of that vision. Oh well, I don’t sleep past 7am anyway.
The MEPA assured me the rest of the day will proceed better. A muttered “kidnapping” floated my way. I’m not sure if this is a threat or a promise.

How do the rest of you spend your birthdays? Are they still big deals or just a tick on the age stick?

Just Another Smalltown Graduation


One thing about living in a small town (under 8,000) is how everyone comes out to cheer on our graduates.  Rain or shine we hold the ceremony out on the football field so that as many people as possible can stand, sit, recline as they root on children, siblings, friends, neighbors transitioning out from high school to the “real” world–I ponder this expression, but shall save for another post, another time.

This year the weather remained in the perfect mid 70s with a touch of balmy breeze.

I volunteer as one of the staff crowd control, which involves trying to look imposing enough so that anyone trying to edge up beyond the perimeter rope won’t even think about it. The look and stance usually last about the first fifteen minutes before someone sneaks past and then the inevitable breach occurs. Crowd control is annoying as well as fun.  Telling people “please stay behind the line” when they only want a quick hug and photo op makes me feel a bit heartless. Yet, chaos would ensue if there wasn’t some attempt at decorum.  Did I ever tell you about the time someone handed a grad a lit cigar as he approached the admin gauntlet and he blew cigar smoke in the principal’s face?  Well, that’s one reason we now have a perimeter rope. It’s a rowdy crowd.  I’m always amazed at how loud  people can whistle, yell, or airhorn their sentiments to the exiting grads. I think having the ceremony on the football field must influence the enthusiasm.

We don’t invite in a fancy shmancy speaker–it’s all student-generated, except for a brief commentary from our principal. There is the Senior Class President, student nominated speakers, plus the valedictorian and salutotorian.  Each speech varies in its focus. The range is humorous with last-minute digs at admin and staff and students to sentimental and sincere (“Thanks, Mom.”).

Then the pomp and circumstance and parade begins. In a twinkling all too soon, students cross the stage and emerge as adults stepping into the next phase of their life. As they turn up the ramp to take their bleachers there are last-minute congratulations and hugs.  And the inevitable, “Please stay behind the rope–okay, make it quick.”

Yup, gotta love the small town celebration of life’s accomplishments.

image: blog.sparefoot.com

Having a Senior Moment


Today marked the last day and first day for a group of seniors.  As we wrapped up their visual essays that little old epiphany popped up:

“Hey guys, do you realize this is the last class on the last day of your high school career?” I obviously was more impressed with that fact than they were. I offered up the Kleenex box, but no takers. There’s no room for tears when there is cheering going on!

Wanting to capture the moment before they all split in separate directions I said their exit ticket required five memories of AP Senior Literature.  Silly me, I was thinking they might mention any of the following:

  • “I sure appreciate knowing how to properly apply anaphora and polysyndeton when emphasizing my need for repetition and parallelism.”
  • “Having learned the significance of water when reading literature makes me want to run right out and grab a copy of Moby Dick this weekend.”
  • “I wake up in the middle of the night craving yet one more reading of Prufrock’s lovesong.

No. None of that. Instead they popped off these memories:

“Your cow jokes.”

“The story of how you met your husband and made polenta for him.”

“French day. All that bread and cheese and fruit we enjoyed when watching Cyrano de Bergerac.”

Nope. All the labor spent on creating scintillating lesson plans went unnoticed and instead the personal aspects is what became memorable for them.  Lesson learned: The best teaching comes from learning to set aside the plans now and then.

I’ll miss this batch of seniors, we’ve had our share of moments, that’s for sure.  Saturday is graduation and once they leave behind high school I wonder if they’ll take along some new friends with them–Jane, Janie, Lizzie, Darcy…

The Road Less Traveled


NOT on the road again…sorry, Willy N. image: http://www.3.bp.blogspot.com

The open road tends to beckon when twenty something. That yearning to travel starts young and bubbles up in the teens, often erupting into a boil up upon achieving graduation.

Where to go? Europe, Australia, explore the continental USA–all possibilities.
I was fortunate to travel to Europe when a mere 21, spending the entire summer in Bavaria visiting family, experiencing Deutschland like a native.

No, I did not go total native when visiting Bavaria

Even though I had family around, comforts, experiences, even fabulous doses of chocolate, I was incredibly homesick. Good thing I discovered early my penchant towards being a homebody. I have yet to renew my passport.

From time to time I do wonder what it would be like to see more sights than I have.

For instance, I recently attended a conference and inevitably we shared a bit about our lives. When I hear how some people have been all over the globe and they are barely dipping into their thirties, I reflect as to whether I’ve missed something. Part of me wonders what it would have been like to live in Paris, go to school in England, backpack in Europe, live in Melbourne.  And then I drift away from the postcard daydreams and realize some are born to travel and some are born to stay home.  Dorothy and I got that RubyRed Slipper thang down–we know there is no place like home *click click*

Ruby Slippers

Because being ever so cool–I want those transporter powers of the Ruby Reds image: http://www.ladymirror.com

I derive great enjoyment and satisfaction from cozying up in my little house. Got my wood-stove for winter, hammock for summer, my recliner couch and remote control, my pillow top bed, choice of clothing, eats, whatever I need. Truly there is no place like home.
Sure it’s nice to get a change of scenery now and then. For instance, that conference I attended? What a tonic to meet new people, exchange new ideas, and explore new places.  However, after the second day, I couldn’t wait to get back home. I will not be joining the corp of retired teachers of RVing around, skipping from one sunny spot to another. Okay, maybe taking off January and February is a possibility. Living in the land of snow and ice can’t always be remedied by the wood-stove and a stack of good books.
So, me, Dorothy, and Toto all agree that there are some mighty cool sights somewhere over the rainbow, but after it’s all said and done, there really is no place like home.

cozy-home-500x375.jpg

Aah–that cozy home feeling–nothing like it image: http://www.allthingschic.net

Wrap Up or Fall Flat


After five years of stop and go writing on my historical novel I’m nearing the end chapters. It’s rather intimidating. The ending involves the reuniting of a homestead mother with her family. The way I have presented the conflict is that there is some ambiguity of whether the mother left the family due to the grind of daily life as a pioneer women or if she wandered away due to fever delirium.
Here’s what I need to figure out:
-Is the husband readily accepting her leaving the family and not returning once she was better? (He’s a good guy overall, but was left with six children ages 3-15 to raise in her absence)
-How will the daughter (her POV) feel about her mama at this point? Anger, relief? This girl took on the task of raising her three ornery brothers and packed up her petticoats and put on pants to do so in order up keep up with them.

The right grab really counts… image: bodyresults.com

 

Reaching the end chapters is a lot like rock climbing. A cadence is developed in both–the reach and pull up towards progress. Just when the top is in sight, flat is sometimes hit, meaning no handholds and no way to go up. Finding a new path is sometimes the only direction left. Then again a risky move can be tried and what a sensation of exhilaration when it leads to success and pulling over the top.

Write now? I’m at that looking for a move that will pull me over the top.

So, writers–what do you do when you hit flat when the top ledge is in sight? Do you press on or look for a new route?

Bargain Bin Book Bonazas


At a local warehouse clothing sale I unexpectedly found a tier of gift books.  At a couple of dollars a piece I grabbed up a few.  It proved a difficult choice as they ranged from the secret lives of cats to how to dress cool instead of never cool (I kid you not).  There were also cutesy books like how to enjoy incense and candles.  I passed on those.  A match is all I need to understand those two.  Okay, maybe there are a couple of things I could learn, but when I came across these I couldn’t resist:

1. The Gregg Reference Manual (ninth edition) by William A. Sabin
Of course I already have my Strunk and White, How to Not Write Bad, and various college textbooks sitting on my shelf, yet who can resist a grammar handboook. I can’t. And because I don’t need it I decide to give it to my youngest progeny who admittedly wants to get his there, its, and yours figured out once and for all.

2. Leadership Courage by David Cottrell and Eric Harvey
Definitely a gift book for the youngest because he is into building up a business and is always talking about all these amazing leadership books he’s reading, so he most certainly needs another one.

3. Shakespeare’s Sonnets by William Shakespeare
For  the oldest son, I couldn’t pass up this slim volume of the Bard’s best.  I bought it because every young man who is looking for the perfect soul mate should have at least a couple of sonnets up his sleeve.  He received it graciously, if not warily. I  was amused to overhear him say the line, “Hey, I have a sonnet and I know how to use, so back off.”  I’m pretty sure he was kidding.  A loaded sonnet is nothing to mess with.  I have cautioned him on the power of verse.

4.  How to Say It Style Guide by Rosalie Maggio
Yes, another reference book. With two boyos in business they each need their handy dandy grammer guide.

 

 

Finding books on sale is always a bonus.  And being able to give them away is the best bonus.  Have any of you found any bin bonuses lately?

Oh, all images are from amazon.com.

Rainy Days of May


I know this isn’t the case for everyone, but we are having a spate of rainy May days in my part of the world. I personally don’t mind rainy days, at least not too much.  I enjoy the greenery it brings and all those flowers.  The rain also provides the excuse to stay inside and get caught up on my writing and reading because if it is sunny out I tend to feel guilt for not being outside reveling in the warmth and blue skies.  We have long winters here.  I’m trying to figure out a way to store up those sunny summer days in a jar to dispel those dismal days of December, January, February, and most of March.

When the progeny were kidlits I made sure rain did not stop their fun.  One of my helpers in this regard was a fabulous book called Rainy Days & Saturdays by Linda Hetzer. Inside our over 150 activities and ideas for chasing away the drizzle doldrums.

image: amazon.com

Check it some of our past favorites:

  • camping out inside–the old blanket over the table works, but we filled the entire living room with elaborate blanket and sheet configurations
  • bean bag throws–easy to make and hours of entertainment
  • sock puppets–old socks, buttons, felt and it’s showtime
  • finger painting–shaving cream mixed with food coloring in muffin pans equals pruny rainbow kids
  • tissue paper stained glass–an old jar, watered down white glue, a paintbrush, torn tissue paper, and stick in a candle
  • balloon volleyball–clear out the breakables and have at it
  • tornado tubes–toy stores have the contraption to join two liter bottles together to create the swirly fun
  • cooking–popovers, quesadillas, no bake cookies, homemade pizza
  • clay ornaments

I’m keeping this one for the grandkiddos coming over.  I can’t wait to build a fort again!

image: wikipedia.org

 

How about you?  Do have some rainy day ideas that work well for your bunch?

Why We Say: #8 (a backstock of Bs)


Well, Well…

I haven’t run a “Why We Say” since December. Tsk. Not wanting to disappoint I will make up the lost months in a bevy of Bs. Five months equal five reasonings for “Why We Say”–

 

1. Springtime is April showers and May flowers and baseball!  It is appropriate we begin our first B with Baseball Fan. Back when newspaper ruled the news, there would be great competition for space. Naturally, if a longer word could be exchanged for a shorter one, or if a long one could be condensed, the switch was made.  Charles Haas, apparently is the reason we now refer to sports enthusiasts as “fans.”  He was credited as being the greatest baseball “fanatic,” which became shortened to “fan” once it hit the press pages.  And here I thought “fan” referred to the paper waving needed for those hot days in the stands.

 

2. “Oh quit beating around the bush, and just tell me what you think!” Have you ever been accused of holding back information? If so, this statement might be flung at you. You might not realize how foxy you’re being by holding back from your audience.  Back in the day, hunters wanting to rout foxes from their hiding spots in the bushes, would send someone to beat the bushes to scare out the tawny evaders.  Not wanting to become some ladies fur stole, the foxes would learn to keep hidden, which meant it took a long time to get a fox to pop out.  The “aha” moment with this phrase: sometimes it takes someone a long time to get to the point of the story.

 

3. Do you suffer from getting in tight spots? Do you sigh at the getting behind, just when you thought you had it all in order? Do you wish you could be a winner, instead of being a loser?  If you checked “yes” to any of these questions, you will then most certainly relate to the expression “Behind the Eight Ball.” This expression is derived from the pool game of rotation, where each ball is played except the eight ball. If the eight ball blocks your shot, you have basically lost the game.

4. “I would love to be in your shoes.” This one makes sense all on its own.  It’s simple, right?  It simply means we want to trade places.  That’s true and then some.  Let’s go back as far as 1834 in England. At that time children who were to be adopted would step into their new father’s shoes to stress the importance of the new connection and family ties.  “Shoes me, are you my new dad?”

image: 74211.com

 

5.  With spring comes summer and with summer comes weddings.  Ooh, I love a summer wedding and I am so disappointed when I don’t get to go to at least one summer nuptial exchange.  I love the chance to actually dress up, mix and mingle with old and new acquaintances, eat, drink, and be merry and best of all I enjoy watching the bride and groom exchange their commitment to one another.  I look forward to the wedding theme and the fashions.  How many bridesmaid? Will the best man be serious? Or will he pull the old “ring, what ring?” routine.  The best man is naturally the groom’s best friend or close relation, and it’s a place of honor.  This custom stems from centuries ago (primarily in Europe) most weddings took place at night (don’t know the reason on that one–research time) and it wasn’t unheard of to have the rival come swooping in an attempt to kidnap the bride. One precaution against this shocking, and irritating practice, was to have the groom’s men stand guard during the service.  The main guard would be the groom’s most trusted or best man. Tuxedos optional with swords?

 

Next month B on the lookout for some more Bewildering “Why We Says.”  Until next time…

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