Preface: The beginning of this post is just rambling. There is no point, and it doesn't make much sense. I'm just thinking.
Every writer knows the agonizing and sometimes terrifying process that goes into creating a body of work that doesn't suck. Sometimes that's all the higher I can set the bar. I want to strive for creative, witty perfection all of the time, but after so many beat-downs (self-inflicted), simply not sucking sounds pretty damn good. This is the struggle of a writer and we all know it.
Lately, however, I am struggling with another kind of block in my creative process. I process copy in my head while I am doing other things—like biking or driving—and then when I come up with something brilliant (har-har) it is lost because I can't remember it later when it's convenient to write it down. My friend Cindy comes up will all kinds of fabulous ideas (sometimes for books) while she is walking her dog, and she remembers them. She also has a strange knack for finding money. So even if she forgets her brilliant best seller idea, she'll still strike it rich with her found cash.
End of the rambling.
I'm having a Web site built finally. I'm pretty excited about it. I've seen a few of the logo concepts so far and they are looking really good. I can't wait to have a functional and attractive place for editors to see my work.
I'm getting ready to head to Colorado this week for more scouting, and to work on my first feature for Denver Life magazine. I'm pretty excited about that. It is a piece on owning a second home in a ski town. I'll be visiting the builder and designer of a new home in Copper Mountain. I'm sure it will be stunning, and I can't wait to see it. I'll post some photos when I return.
Here I go, crossing my fingers I don't hit a snow storm like they had last week!
03 November 2009
08 October 2009
Have I ever mentioned that I hate rain?
Well, my dear friend Kelly knows how much I hate it. Every time it rains I probably email her no less that 20 times to tell her how much I hate it. Well, today she gets a reprieve. Today I don't hate the rain. It's chilly and dreary, and my class was canceled today because the instructor got sick from getting a flu shot—don't even get me started on the flu shot. Anyway, I'm now cruising into four days of freedom. Not freedom in the sense that I have nothing to do and can read and nap all day. But freedom in the sense that I can focus—uninterrupted—on the work I need to do. And with weather like this, there's nothing to do but concentrate on work. That is like a vacation to me. Who needs sun and sand, right?
28 September 2009
On loving the weather....
I feel a bit weird about wanting to leave Des Moines considering the beautiful weather we've been having. I spent the first half of the summer in Colorado and expected to come back to hideous heat, but it was mildly warm when I came back. Then I geared up for the inevitable heat that historically comes with the Iowa State Fair. It never came. I'm always surprised when it's not 95 degrees with 80-percent humidity.
Now we are experiencing an extended autumn. It's starting early, anyway. I hope it hangs around for awhile. I love the crisp morning air and the slowly scattering leaves. But like many others, this turn of seasons always makes my thoughts turn to the holidays. For the past few years my husband and I have been working really hard to get our kids to understand the concept of true gift-giving in the spirit of giving something from the heart because you've made it especially for the person, or because the item really spoke to you as something meaningful to the person it's intended for. Even more difficult than that, we've been trying to get grandparents and other family to cut back on their giving of "stuff" to our kids just for the sake of having lots of presents. We believe that experiences and time spent together are so much more worthwhile than toys and trinkets that ultimately end up at the back of the closet of stuffed between books on the bookshelf.
In that vein, my mother-in-law gave my kids the gift of a vacation with her to Florida to swim with dolphins. They were so happy to spend the time with her, and it will always be one of their most cherished memories. I couldn't be happier for them. As we continue our quest to live with less stuff and more experiences in our life, I hope we can keep up our end of the bargain by offering those we love the opportunities to experience more meaning in their lives. And as my thoughts turn to the holidays, I'm considering picking up a tradition I gave up a couple of years ago—hosting a large Christmas party for all of our family and friends. I think it will do our hearts some good to share the laughter and friendship we've been missing since I canceled the nine-year tradition. It's a huge undertaking, but I'm giving it some thought.
We'll see how this fabulous fall weather treats me.
Now we are experiencing an extended autumn. It's starting early, anyway. I hope it hangs around for awhile. I love the crisp morning air and the slowly scattering leaves. But like many others, this turn of seasons always makes my thoughts turn to the holidays. For the past few years my husband and I have been working really hard to get our kids to understand the concept of true gift-giving in the spirit of giving something from the heart because you've made it especially for the person, or because the item really spoke to you as something meaningful to the person it's intended for. Even more difficult than that, we've been trying to get grandparents and other family to cut back on their giving of "stuff" to our kids just for the sake of having lots of presents. We believe that experiences and time spent together are so much more worthwhile than toys and trinkets that ultimately end up at the back of the closet of stuffed between books on the bookshelf.
In that vein, my mother-in-law gave my kids the gift of a vacation with her to Florida to swim with dolphins. They were so happy to spend the time with her, and it will always be one of their most cherished memories. I couldn't be happier for them. As we continue our quest to live with less stuff and more experiences in our life, I hope we can keep up our end of the bargain by offering those we love the opportunities to experience more meaning in their lives. And as my thoughts turn to the holidays, I'm considering picking up a tradition I gave up a couple of years ago—hosting a large Christmas party for all of our family and friends. I think it will do our hearts some good to share the laughter and friendship we've been missing since I canceled the nine-year tradition. It's a huge undertaking, but I'm giving it some thought.
We'll see how this fabulous fall weather treats me.
29 August 2009
Close Encounter
Of the bear kind.
So, after two whirlwind days of scouting, I peeled out of Denver around 4:30pm for Boulder. I was craving a good hike. What I got was WAY more than I bargained for.
Heading up the trail I was bewildered to learn that acclimation—or something resembling it that I had after five weeks here—is not something you get and then just pull it out whenever you need it. How quickly it goes away. I huffed and puffed, although I must say not as much as I did at the beginning of summer when I first hiked that trail.
So, as I lumped along I saw a couple coming down the trail, and the woman was pregnant. I scolded myself more for likely struggling more than this woman with a basketball for a belly. The couple stopped me to tell me they had just seen a bear about 100 yards up the trail coming down out of a tree. I was giddy. But they were heading down, and I was alone. I couldn't decide what to do. I wanted to see it so badly, but I was scared to death. Just then another hiker came along. She and I decided to forge ahead making noise, but hoping to get a glimpse of it.
Well, it was only a close encounter, not an actual encounter. So, we never saw the bear (damn it!), but we did get to know each other a little bit, and it turns out that she and her male companion are big into off-road motorcycle riding. What a coincidence. I think we'll stay in touch and maybe get to do some riding together one day.
Now, I'm back in my Boulder "office." The Laughing Goat coffeehouse. Love it here.
So, after two whirlwind days of scouting, I peeled out of Denver around 4:30pm for Boulder. I was craving a good hike. What I got was WAY more than I bargained for.
Heading up the trail I was bewildered to learn that acclimation—or something resembling it that I had after five weeks here—is not something you get and then just pull it out whenever you need it. How quickly it goes away. I huffed and puffed, although I must say not as much as I did at the beginning of summer when I first hiked that trail.
So, as I lumped along I saw a couple coming down the trail, and the woman was pregnant. I scolded myself more for likely struggling more than this woman with a basketball for a belly. The couple stopped me to tell me they had just seen a bear about 100 yards up the trail coming down out of a tree. I was giddy. But they were heading down, and I was alone. I couldn't decide what to do. I wanted to see it so badly, but I was scared to death. Just then another hiker came along. She and I decided to forge ahead making noise, but hoping to get a glimpse of it.
Well, it was only a close encounter, not an actual encounter. So, we never saw the bear (damn it!), but we did get to know each other a little bit, and it turns out that she and her male companion are big into off-road motorcycle riding. What a coincidence. I think we'll stay in touch and maybe get to do some riding together one day.
Now, I'm back in my Boulder "office." The Laughing Goat coffeehouse. Love it here.
20 August 2009
Summer? What summer?
It happens every single year. And every single year I know it's going to happen. I make attempts to not let it happen, but before I know it...it's happened again. Summer has faded as quickly at the "touch of sun" body lotion I used once in May. Wasn't that just last week or so?
The Iowa State Fair—the greatest state fair—marks the end of summer, usually with a 10-day streak of unbearable temperatures and humidity that makes your sweat sweat. Ugh. This year, however, hasn't been so bad, which makes the prospect of heading back to a classroom even more daunting for my kids.
The end of summer means I am in a rush to finish all of the things on my summer to-do list. (Oh, me and my lists. Sigh.) I'm feverishly checking things off, but the list doesn't seem to be getting any shorter. I am determined to make great strides in the next five days, then I'm off to class and nothing will get done again until December.
Truth be told, the end of summer is the least of my problems right now. I am having Colorado withdrawal—Crested Butte in particular—and it's making me cry all of the time. It started the other morning at the coffee shop. My husband said, "If we were sitting outside Camp 4 Coffee right now, we'd be staring at mountains, and we'd be able to see our breath, and we'd have to wear a fleece 'cause the temperature would only be in the 40s." I immediately got goosebumps. Now I can't shake it. CB is everywhere. Tuesday we took the girls to the fair and in the yard we parked in (yes, yard—long story if you're not from around here) there was a truck with a fake CO license plate that said "Secret Stash" on it which is a restaurant in CB. Yesterday I parked next to a car with a CB sticker on the rear window. Aaaahhh!!! I can't get it out of my head. Crested Butte is haunting me. When I think about it, I get a lump in my throat and something in my chest is making it very hard to breathe. Must. Go. Soon.
The Iowa State Fair—the greatest state fair—marks the end of summer, usually with a 10-day streak of unbearable temperatures and humidity that makes your sweat sweat. Ugh. This year, however, hasn't been so bad, which makes the prospect of heading back to a classroom even more daunting for my kids.
The end of summer means I am in a rush to finish all of the things on my summer to-do list. (Oh, me and my lists. Sigh.) I'm feverishly checking things off, but the list doesn't seem to be getting any shorter. I am determined to make great strides in the next five days, then I'm off to class and nothing will get done again until December.
Truth be told, the end of summer is the least of my problems right now. I am having Colorado withdrawal—Crested Butte in particular—and it's making me cry all of the time. It started the other morning at the coffee shop. My husband said, "If we were sitting outside Camp 4 Coffee right now, we'd be staring at mountains, and we'd be able to see our breath, and we'd have to wear a fleece 'cause the temperature would only be in the 40s." I immediately got goosebumps. Now I can't shake it. CB is everywhere. Tuesday we took the girls to the fair and in the yard we parked in (yes, yard—long story if you're not from around here) there was a truck with a fake CO license plate that said "Secret Stash" on it which is a restaurant in CB. Yesterday I parked next to a car with a CB sticker on the rear window. Aaaahhh!!! I can't get it out of my head. Crested Butte is haunting me. When I think about it, I get a lump in my throat and something in my chest is making it very hard to breathe. Must. Go. Soon.
06 July 2009
What a Difference a Bike Path Can Make
It's truly remarkable to me what having a bike path right outside my back door has done for me. You can call me lazy if you like because of my apathy for getting in the car and driving somewhere to hop on my bike and go for a spin. And you might say I'm just making excuses when I tell you I have precious little time as it is, and if I have to invest time in "getting there" to get some decent exercise, I'm out. It just doesn't work for my lifestyle, and I've taken a long time to accept this fact.
But after being in Colorado—where incidentally there are some 850 (yes, eight hundred and fifty) miles of paved and dirt bike trails in Denver alone—I have not missed a day riding my bike in three weeks. And on most of those days I've gone more than once and taken a walk in the evening.
Now, I know there are those of you cynics out there (Justin) who say I can do this at home, too. And yes, I can. But there is a monumental difference in walking the city streets from my house—and don't even get me started on the fate of bicyclists in our fair city/state—and riding along a paved trail with the creek rushing by, a deer peering out through the brush and bunnies scurrying out of my way. Oh, and then there are the mountains....
But after being in Colorado—where incidentally there are some 850 (yes, eight hundred and fifty) miles of paved and dirt bike trails in Denver alone—I have not missed a day riding my bike in three weeks. And on most of those days I've gone more than once and taken a walk in the evening.
Now, I know there are those of you cynics out there (Justin) who say I can do this at home, too. And yes, I can. But there is a monumental difference in walking the city streets from my house—and don't even get me started on the fate of bicyclists in our fair city/state—and riding along a paved trail with the creek rushing by, a deer peering out through the brush and bunnies scurrying out of my way. Oh, and then there are the mountains....
04 July 2009
Working Really Hard...
OK, not all of the time. Today I hiked up to the Flatirons in Boulder. This is a really poor representation of how amazing it is to get up there and look down on the city.
When I set out, I wasn't sure the weather was going to hold, but it did. It was overcast and cool—perfect for hiking. Once I made my way down, the rain moved in so I headed to the Laughing Goat coffee shop on Pearl. Here I sit relishing good coffee, good music and reading.
This is the life.
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