Is there such a thing as a waterproof laptop computer?

I ask this question because all my best ideas come in the shower. I'm brilliant in the shower! I am. However by the time I get out, toweled off, dressed and painted (I gots to have my mascara on folks) - the light of creativity has dimmed. By the time I'm in front of my computer there's hardly even a spark left most days.

*sigh*

I can get some of it back if I really focus, but it never is quite as easy to come up with new ideas or entertainig ways of telling a story as it is during my morning shower.

Aack!!!

While in Florida I was supposed to get some storytelling work done. HA-HA-HA! Or is that HO-HO-HO? Whatever. I did manage to do one rewrite and work some on a lesson plan for spring break camp at the Dallas Museum of Art. That was just a drop in the bucket folks - a wee, teeny, tiny wittle drop.

Sheesh.

I made out my to do list and now I believe a stiff drink may be in order. Thank goodness it's New Years Eve right? Creativity is quirky folks. I may just hit the ground running and clear the high bar or...Aaackkk! I won't consider the alternative.

BACK in Texas!

I'm back home in Texas! I really, reeaallly love this place. My adrenalin starts pumping and the world gets brighter the minute I cross the state line. There is so much I adore about this state, especially in the DFW area.

Here is just one great thing about living in Plano, Texas -

Today on the way to the post office and the grocery store, I saw a Hindu grandmother of Indian descent. She was walking along the sidewalk with her back held straight and certain. Her long hair was braided in a single loose plait, she had a Hindu dot in the center of her forehead, and wore a brightly printed orange sari. To compliment the whole look, as well as accommodate the chilly weather, she wore a big black, marshmellowy parka and sensible Nikes on her feet! At the post office I heard several different languages being spoken by the people in line and enjoyed the melody of lilting English spoken with accents I couldn't place. At the grocery store I checked out the large collection of odd-looking Asian vegetables, wondering for the hundredth time how they were prepared and what they tasted like. As I was waiting to check out, there was a woman in line ahead of me dressed "Dallas Chic" all in black with lots of jewelry, and a bizzzzaro hairdo in three shades of orange that was styled like the dos' you see in vogue. Her face was tucked and pulled up to the heavens and her boobs...well let's just say she'll never drown as long has she has those buoyant balloons.

Yep, I'm back in Plano folks. For people watchers like myself, this is heaven on earth.

We have a large multi-ethnic population. Plano's places to worship is encyclopedic in it's vastness. There's Christian churches of all denominations with several that hold services in say...the Chinese language for example. We have gold-domed mosques, synagogues and Hindu temples. We have it all folks. I once read in the paper that more than 60% of Plano's population are first generation immigrants whose native language is not English. These immigrants left their country of origin to come to the "land of opportunity". They remind me that this truly is a wonderful country and there is an optimism in the air here that is excelerating. Though imperfect it may be, the USA is a still a great place to live. These people are so happy to be here, some had to really sacrifice a lot to move to our fine country. Me, I was privileged to be born here, so I better by golly make the most of it.

For a storyteller (ME) who tells world folktales, access to people from so many places and walks of life is very stimulating and exciting! Last month, I told folktales at the museum that I needed to relate to paintings of Indian Hindu/Muslim miniature art. I was able to get valuable cultural insight from two friends, one who was from North India and the other from Bombay. I can easily visit ethnic shops, try different foods and watch DVD documentaries from local libraries for research. It's all here.

Yep, I dig this place man.

We sure are cute for two ugly people...

The Juno soundtrack ROCKS! Jeff downloaded it for me and every song is a winner! Jeff and I are going to perform a tandem story in February for our storytelling friends, and we plan to sing one of the songs as an opener. (And as an advertisement for the movie!) How fun!

If you can in any way possible see this movie, please do. It is so unique, yet real.

I am fan!

Diablo, you are a little freaky & weird girl, but lordy you wrote a great script. KUDOS! Kimya Dawson, whatever you are doing keep doing it!

nuf said...

Miss Lily says "Ho-ho-ho!"

Here's my daughter. I finally got her to pose for a Christmas picture. She's 17, so I figure I might not get her to do this for me many more times in the future.

She even got out her lucky white buffalo, "Lord Tennyson" and put antlers on him.

Soooo...today I did the couch potato workout

Have you heard of it? It's tough, but I stayed the course because I knew it was good for me. My plan also included a mandatory afternoon nap - got that in too!

Tomorrow, I pack for our trip to Florida for Christmas with Jeff's mom, clean house, take Lily to the dentist and shop for traveling vittles. Once we get to Florida it'll be non-stop for days with early morning risings. It's early to bed, early to rise at my mom-in-laws house. So not my thing. Me? I'm a natural born night owl. hoot-hoot. Been that way since birth.

Today, I langorously took the opportunity to watch my favorite kind of documentary. I like those obscure foreign ones that no one has heard about, the kind where you have to read the subtitles. I have an inner bespectacled cultural anthropologist romping about, a little Margaret Mead if you will, who begs to be fed now and then. People are FASCINATING creatures.

So what did I watch? "Old Believers" by Jana Sc???? Okay it's one of those really long Slovakian names that I can't pronounce, or spell.

Here's a link to the film http://www.cduniverse.com/productinfo.asp?pid=6982247

It was fabulous. "Piemule" was my personal fav documentary out of the 3 on the DVD. Jana's images of the people and her choice of filming it in sepia tone was genius! There are a 1,000 still moments where the people are absolute poetry to watch, frame by frame. Their faces so etched by life, by circumstance - there is nothing more wonderful, more intriguing than an interesting face and a story.

Oh LoRdY LOrDy I finished the stordy!

It's a bad sign when the writer, me, becomes tired of a story before I finish writing it. Imagine what my poor readers are going through.

*sigh*

It Diablo Cody's fault! That's right you heard me. That screenwriting wonderwoman is to blame. Her first screen play (for the movie Juno) just this week received multiple nominations for Golden Globe awards. She was a blogger writing wit filled posts in relative obscurity once upon a time. She was discovered by Hollywood and well...her feet haven't touched the ground in some while. She's the hottest writing sensation out there in La La Land.

She told the director of Juno, Jason Reitman that he needed to post directly to his blog. She told him, "real blogging is done directly into the website... Go Bareback!" Apparently that's what true, honest-to-god bloggers do.

I thought she was talking to me too. Well, not reeeeaalllly okay, but I do want to write more as I speak in real life and going "bareback" should encourage that. Right? Right?

Maybe it just encourages bad writing.

Stopping By Woods: A Winter Remembrance (the final chapter)

I felt a wee bit guilty leaving Minnesota again. What kind of Norwegian was I? The years of easy living in warm places had softened me up, thinned my blood.

We moved to the panhandle of Northern Florida, to an area often referred to by those in the know as the “Redneck Riviera” y’all. To the less fortunate, gullible souls reeled in by slick advertising paid for by the condominium developers, the area is romantically referred to as “the Emerald Coast”. Sounds a lot better doesn’t it? During certain times of the year the beach is indeed incredibly gorgeous - picturesque even. But during July & August, the waters become soupy with stinky, slimy seaweed that coats the white sand with its insect infested greenery. It’s nasty & putrid to swim in, but it can be entertaining if you’re up for looking like a swamp creature when you arise from its oozing depths.

We stayed for thirteen years. My daughter earned the title of G.R.I.T.S. That stands for “Girl Raised In The South”. She got to develop a close and loving relationship with her paternal grandparents and we never found ourselves shoveling snow during a blizzard again. We did do some major hurricane clean-ups, but there lies another story.

Then Texas beckoned and we moved to Plano just north of Dallas two years ago. Inexplicably, it was here last winter that I again heard the siren call of Robert Frost’s poem, “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”. I didn’t realize it right away though.

The challenge was to create a piece of art inspired by the phrase “winter’s chill”. That’s right. The Plano Art Association had these monthly art challenges and January’s theme beckoned me to try and come up with something worthy of winning the top prize, a gift certificate to the local art store.

I took my digital camera out to the park near my home and photographed several trees standing naked to the world. I then printed out black & white copies to use for the collage I was planning on creating. (I love doing collages – I’m a multi-media enthusiast!) Over the course of a few days, I did indeed create a picture, but something missing. I wanted to catch the feeling, the sensation of being chilled by a wintery day. I also wanted to express my appreciation of the raw beauty that a snowy winter is capable of. From my lifetime, I reviewed my experiences of living in Minnesota, South Carolina, California, Alabama, Texas and out of the ether of my thoughts came a poem floating on a current of cold winter air.

As if I’d intended to do it all along, l wrote the verses from the poem in various places throughout the painting. It was now complete. I went to the meeting, entered my piece into the competition and WON! (Photo of painting is at the top of this post.)

Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.

His house is in the village though;

He will not see me stopping here

To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer

To stop without a farmhouse near

Between the woods and frozen lake

The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake

To ask if there is some mistake.

The only other sound's the sweep

Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Story intermission

I feel the need to interject that this story is not flowing the way I had intended in the beginning. That's how it is sometimes. It is not representational of my typical stories that I tell for performances. Odd...I guess I needed to go down this path for some reason.

I've had many interruptions while writing it too. I've had the Lantern Light Festival in Plano where my guild told holiday tales and I've needed to spend quite a bit of time working on stories for the Dallas Museum of Art. I also attended my very first venders fair where I set up a table and tried to entice passing librarians from north Texas to stop by and learn about what I do. It was an interesting experience. I think the best part was meeting all the other artists there. I talked to clowns, other storytellers, a guy walking a beaver on a leash (you heard me), another guy who pretends he's Shakespeare (he did look like him - poor fellow), and filmed an alarmingly bad 3 minute video where I talked about storytelling.

So, I'm back to it now. Shoot, maybe I'll surprise myself and finish this bugger. One can only hope.

I return to my homeland...

My Alabama born & raised husband must really love me, because he let me talk him into moving to Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1988. Jeff and I were both 24 years old, had already been married nearly four years. We had been renting a three-bedroom house in Montgomery Alabama that was owned by Jeff’s parents. There was a settled quality to our lives that was rare for our age and far too predictable. Our life in Montgomery stretched before us into the future in a monotonous ribbon of sameness that for me felt intolerable. Though I had lived in Montgomery, Alabama for six years by that time, I had never adapted to the place. I found the hot, humid weather insufferable, the culture oftentimes baffling. I missed cool summers, snowy winters and lefsa. I missed Minnesota; I missed “home.” Something had to give.

And give it did.

Jeff and I moved to the Twin Cities, got good jobs and in one year managed to buy our first home. Less than a year later we had our daughter Lily, an incredibly sweet natured and good child. Well okay, she had her share of spunkiness, but that just made her more interesting.

Then the cold started getting to us. One Christmas day, we found ourselves frigidly barreling down the highway to my cousin Shirley’s house in sub-zero temperatures. Lily was so wrapped up in multiple layers of clothing and blankets that she was hardly recognizable as a human being. She looked more like a pile of dirty laundry stuffed into the carseat. It was so cold in our car that the heater gave no relief, and I had to keep scraping the ice off the inside of the front windshield that was continually frosting over with the frozen moisture of our breaths. Jeff had the gall to say, “Try not breathe so much will you.” As we say up north, Uffdah!

Yeah, yeah, “the woods are lovely dark and deep” on snowy evenings as Robert Frost put so eloquently, but they can be freakin’ frigid as #%&* too. You can tell Mr. Robert Frost I said that.

Wimps that we were, we accepted a bribe from Jeff’s parents, if we would move back to the south with their only grandchild, we could live rent-free in their Florida beach house. Hot diggity dog! What a deal. Our stay Minnesota had lasted four years.

Stopping By Woods: A Winter Remembrance

When I was nine years old my new stepfather, my mother, and I loaded up a red, Ford pick-up truck with all our worldly possessions and left cold & frosty Minnesota for the warmer, balmier climes of Charleston, South Carolina. My whole world or rather my concept of it at the time, was left back in Minnesota, specifically the NW corner near a town called Bemidji. My large extended family consisting entirely of solid Scandinavian heritage had lived for several generations on farms in the surrounding countryside. Nobody ever left, at least not for long. That’s what I thought.

I had no way of knowing how unrecognizable the weather was going to be in Charleston. Sure I had been told I was moving to a place that stayed warm all year round, but what did that really mean? I couldn’t comprehend that we were moving to a place where it didn’t snow.

We arrived in the fall, and when Halloween rolled around I was ecstatic to discover that I didn’t have to squeeze my costume on over a snowsuit. But, when Thanksgiving arrived and it was still hot out I got worried. Everything was all screwy, it felt like Thanksgiving in July. Imagine my distress when Christmas came and went with nary a snowflake in the sky, or even a good freeze that made the dew on the grass all crunchy and fun to walk on. You see, I was a kid who loved the snow, loved mittens & funny caps with pompoms on top, loved seeing my breathe in the air on a cold day, and most of all loved to watch snow as it fell from the sky in a quiet mesmerizing dance covering everything in cool, clean whiteness.

I got depressed. So did my parents. We took a weekend trip to the Smoky Mountains to look at the snow, it was beautiful, but it wasn’t like “home” in Minnesota.

I was in the fourth grade that winter. I had adjusted well to my new school and had made some new friends. Oddly enough they all thought I talked funny. Hah! They were the ones who talked funny – Uffdah ya. Anyway, that January my teacher gave our class an assignment. We were told to memorize and individually recite Robert Frost’s poem, “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening.” WHAT !?! I had to memorize some stupid, old, boring poem and say it in front of my friends? Friends who were always making me feel different because of the way I talked? I dragged myself home and dramatically complained to my parents over how unfair life was. (I was good at that! Still am.)

This was before I actually read the poem, though. When I did read “Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening” for the first time, I was immediately reminded of my life in Minnesota. I remembered the late night drives to my grandparent’s farm on winter nights…I remembered being mesmerized by the sight of the snow fluttering down from an inky, black sky, and then suddenly, being lit up brightly like little stars by our car’s headlights as we sailed through them on down the road… I remembered the birch trees looking so very white under their blankets of snow.

I loved the poem. I thought Robert Frost was a genius. Over and over I practiced it. In my minds eye, I saw the beloved winter landscape before me, I saw the woods fill up with snow, felt sad regret when I said, “But, I have promises to keep…” I can assure you, that my recitation was the most dramatic & deeply felt one in the class that year.

I never stopped missing Minnesota winters, despite the fact that they can indeed get ruthlessly cold. Someday, somehow I was going to move back.

Next up: My Alabama born & raised husband must really love me, because he let me talk him into moving to Minneapolis, Minnesota in 1988.

Lars and the Real Girl

What an oddly wonderful & brilliant movie. I Looooved it! What made it all the more special for me was the fact that the story takes place in a Wisconsin town very similar to the Northern Minnesota towns where my family comes from. The people reminded me of my fellow Minnesotans in so many, many ways. The actors are all outstanding and the story makes me have faith in the human race - we can be kind and loving gosh dang it all!!! *sigh* When the movie comes out on DVD I am definitely buying it.

My next must see movie is Juno. I have become a big Diablo Cody fan. I read her book "Candy Girl", a very unusual choice of reading material for me considering it's about Diablo's experiences working as a stripper in Minneapolis for a year. But, hers is a gifted & original voice and I look forward to reading whatever the heck she wants to write about. I love her blog too - it has the unbelievably trashy name of The Pussy Ranch. I cringe just typing it out. Diablo likes to shock, but she is incredibly human too and there's something very wise about her perspective on things. She is also my antithesis I suppose, so I can live vicariously through her outrageousness & wild child antics. I have NEVER been wild. I'm a good girl...wink, wink.
My father was so wild & bad that there was nothing left for me to rebel over, other than being a good, conservative, upstanding citizen. Hah! That'll show those busy bodies who predicted I'd amount to nothing on account of my daddy. Little children can hear just fine when you gossip, thank you very much.

Thanksgiving was quiet and cold in Texas for us. That's okay. Next year though, I want a big shindig.

I was supposed to work on some stories, but I've been lazy. I've thought about them though - does that count? I'm doing a humorous Minnesotan version of "Why the Bear Has a Stumpy Tail" for the Lantern Light Festival in Plano. Uffdah yeah, it'll be funny dat's for sure. You betcha! That's one thing I don't remember from my years in Minnesota, people saying "you betcha". Hhhhmmmm...the movie Fargo made it seem more common place than it really is maybe? I need to go back for a visit and take notes. Think the relatives will mind? Uffdah.

Puppets!

My daughter and I love puppets. Between the two of us, and including my husband Jeff's two spider puppets, we have over 36 at the last count. Rarely do I use them for storytelling. This may be due to the fact that I know I will never be as gifted at "bringing them to life" as my daughter. She has a natural born knack for it, really she does.

Still every once in a while, I'll give it a try and bungle through a story or two with one. Here I am with my wee little mouse .

Tellabration 2007

The Richardson/Plano Storytellers Guild had their Tellabration last Sunday and all went well. We had beautiful weather and all the tellers were spot on in their telling. We also managed to raise over $90.00 from our bake sale to help offset the Tejas Festival's losses due to horrible weather last April.

I arrived flustered (a common state for me these days), but managed to pull it together and have a fun afternoon. I really do love hanging out my storytelling friends.

So many stories, so little time

I used to have a bumper sticker that read "So many stories, so little time...". It was proudly displayed on the rear bumper of my previous vehicle; a bright, electric green little economy car. That statement was true for me then and is even more so now. I have started writing many personal stories and I want to complete them. I have scads of old folktales tucked away in files, patiently waiting to be adapted into new material for me to tell to future listeners. So many stories...waiting. Wanting to be told...

*sigh*

Time is my big issue. There just isn't enough of it. And gosh dang it all, but I am one of those people who need to sleep 9-10 hours every night! How I envy those people who say they only need 4-5 hours of sleep per night. Martha Stewart is a freak of nature who needs only 4 hours of sleep per night, and from what I hear, she's not always a very nice person. But just between you and me, I sure do envy her hyper-energetic, type A productivity!

As I type this, I have new material patiently waiting to be developed & polished for a program tomorrow night at the Dallas Museum of Art. Following that, I have several new stories that need to be ready next month, and the month after that, and the month after that... I pride myself on being a fast learner of stories, and I am, I am...it's just that right now many stories need to be researched, developed and learned in a very short time.

So, off I go to do just that, but boy oh boy, do I hear the clock ticking away...tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock...

Okay, so maybe I need to blog more often...

Well in my defense, I did have good intentions when I began this blog. I truly believed I was going to write more often then this. And I will, I will. I just need to overcome my distaste for having to learn the techno know-how of blogging.



The world of story has been keeping me super busy. This October, I had more gigs then ever before, which in turn required my writing lots of new material. Twas challenging in the extreme, yet creatively fulfilling at the same time. Long story short - I created new stories (often in the nth hour), got out there in front of the audiences, told the stories and didn't fall flat on my face. I survived!!! Though I do have a lingering twitch in my right eye that I'm still struggling to overcome.



Now for the Big, BIG news!



I am the official resident storyteller for the Dallas Museum of Art! Last February I told stories there for the first time, and well, they kept inviting me back until finally I was asked to be their permanent storyteller. Life is so amazing! During my first visit to the DMA with my family, not long after we had moved to Texas, I remember wishing aloud about how wonderful it would be to tell stories there. We were at the museum for hours & hours, it is HUGE, and of course I wanted to see it all. I fell in love with the place that day, marveling over the hundreds of master artworks in every nook & cranny. Who knew I was going to really work for them as a storyteller one day? So finally, after years & years of feeling caught between my love of storytelling/performance and the visuals arts, often feeling like I had to choose one or the other, I am now able to combine both into a harmonious whole. How very creatively satisfying for me.

Other storytelling news:

The Richardson/Plano Storytelling Guild will have their Tellabration on Sunday, Nov. 18 at 2:30 pm at Plano Heritage Farmstead off of 15th street. I will be there telling stories along with the other storytellers. Here's hoping we have a beautiful fall day for the event. We gather back at the farm on the evening of Nov. 30th for Christmas/seasonal stories during their Lantern Light Festival.

Okay, that's it for now. Caio.

The Beginning 9/13/07

My, my, I am finally posting my very first blog ever. Today is a great day to be doing it too. Why you ask? This is the Frisco Storytelling Festival weekend and I have just spent several blissful hours listening to Beth Horner, Doug Lipman, David Novak and Bobby Norfolk tell tales. I go back in just another hour to hear the last concert. The concert's theme is "Humorous Tales" - my favorite! I'm the kind of gal that likes to laugh!

I decided to start a blog, because I've been having such a hard time creating a website. The blog will work for a bit until I get the pesky website up & going. Creating stories and performing them are a breeze compared to anything that has to do with business and technology.

***sigh***

That's life though. If I'm going to be a professional storyteller I need to get a handle on the business side of it.

That said, I have two performances coming up next week. Both are on the same day and consist of entirely different stories. On Friday, Oct. 19 I'm doing a 30 minute program for a retirement community, and then I drive over to the Dallas Museum of Art and doing a 30 minute program for their Friday Late Night event. It'll all be fun though. Then I will start preparing my Halloween Story for the Dallas Storytelling Guild's event on Halloween at the Bath House at 7 pm on Halloween night. Oh my, but I love me some good spooky tales.

Well, that's it for a beginning. On my next blog, I'll attempt to post a picture. Yes, this ol' gal is going to get this blogging business figured out!