The strangest thing happened; Thursday evening I got a migraine and I hid out in the cool, dark quiet of our family room all day yesterday, in a drugged stupor. I woke up at 5:00 A.M. this morning with my head still thumping. I got up at 7:00 and the headache was gone. I just cannot believe it. I don’t recall ever having had a migraine that lasted less than three days. I call it bloody awesome.
I just have to tell you what I dreamed between five and seven. You will perhaps recall my writing (sometime in May) about how much I miss my father. This morning I dreamt he bought a house just down the road from us. We spent most of our time with each other just doing the things that we always enjoyed doing, fishing and camping and talking about nearly everything under the sun. We went in search of a moose we were both convinced the neighbor had in his field. And I in Dances With Wolves fashion ran with the cows. Ran with the cows? Where in the name of oregano did that come from? I do miss my father. One thing that occurred to me later in the day; I never once felt I had to prove anything to him. He loved me because I was his daughter, unconditionally. I will always love him just the same. I cannot help myself; it makes me sad to know that no one will ever love me the same way I loved him. Strange, the things we dream and the thoughts they provoke.
Sorry, I just had to say it.
With the miraculous absence of a headache, Don and I decided to go see a movie. We saw Death Sentence. It was nice to see Kevin Bacon; I have missed seeing him recently. I have followed his career since he played Tim McIntyre on the CBS soap opera Guiding Light. Who knew John Goodman could play a bad guy so well? I have always thought of him as a big teddy bear. I give the movie 3 out 5 stars. The actors did a fine job but I found the storyline just a touch unbelievable. More on the movie tomorrow.
As for now, I think rather than risk getting another headache by squinting at the monitor, I am going to go downstairs and watch an episode of Sharpe on our big TV.
Ther is always hope.
Betty
Friday, August 31, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Betty In A Snit
Just for the record, I wanted to let you know I am still not happy with my Internet connection (or whatever you call the blasted thing!) or BrightChoice, my ISP. Hit and miss, mostly miss is about the best I can get. I know. I do! Sob, sniff and cry woe is me. Enough of that I just had to get it out of my system.
On second thought, I am not quit over it yet. They have managed to work me into as fine a snit as I have been in for years. Don would tell you that no one can compare to me when I am in a snit. Oddly, it is usually the people I care most about that are capable of causing this less than lady like state. My in-laws can put me in the finest snit you ever did see! Don puts me in a snit every time he signs a coaching contract. Let me tell you, none of them can compare to the snit I am in over the stupid ISP I have.
I am very sorry for exposing you to that tirade. I just had to get it out of my system.
There is always hope.
Betty
On second thought, I am not quit over it yet. They have managed to work me into as fine a snit as I have been in for years. Don would tell you that no one can compare to me when I am in a snit. Oddly, it is usually the people I care most about that are capable of causing this less than lady like state. My in-laws can put me in the finest snit you ever did see! Don puts me in a snit every time he signs a coaching contract. Let me tell you, none of them can compare to the snit I am in over the stupid ISP I have.
I am very sorry for exposing you to that tirade. I just had to get it out of my system.
There is always hope.
Betty
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
The Wind In The Willows And Me Too!
My favorite book as a toddler was Me Too. My grandmother kept it safe for me and bless her heart; she probably read it to me at least a thousand times. Other than bible stories that is the first book I can recall taking an interest in. Time has diminished any clear memory of the storyline but I am amazed at how often the title comes to mind.
There was not much time spent with grandma after I started school and consequently, I cannot recall ever having read a children’s book at my parents’ house until my youngest brother was born, many years after I started school. I think I must have gone straight from "Go, Jane go" to reading everything I could get my hands on. I have always loved words. I love looking at them, writing them, researching them and saying them. Regrettably, the brain and the mouth are not always coordinated. If you could only hear me say some of the words I write you would laugh yourself silly. No matter, it's the look and taste and feel that I am addicted to.
Having said all that, the point is; words as far as I can tell, are the most human of our traits. I do not feel quite as lonely when I am in some way involved with words. It doesn't really matter what I am doing; reading, writing, or listening to song lyrics or the radio, even television is word craft in motion. I truly believe the words are what set us apart.
I do rattle on and I apologize, but please, be patient. I have been thinking all day long about my heroes in the literary world and there are many. Specifically, I have been trying to figure out why I am so smitten with Lee Child (well okay he is the very definition of hunk) put that aside for the moment; and Cornelia Read. They have two distinctly different styles and they are each very gifted writers. I understand the quality of their work is the main attraction for me. That is easy to understand. What I do not get is how I could be so attracted to the genre in the first place. I will tell you truly, before I read my first Jack Reacher book, it was a rare thing for me to read anything in the thriller/suspense category. The exception there bring that I have been a Lawrence Block fan since his days at Writer's Digest. For the most part, I read history (the Celtic region of Europe) and fantasy, romance and historical romance, the classics like Dickens, Defoe, Conrad and Thoreau. Homer, even, but very seldom did I venture into the violent bloody pages of a thriller. Circuitous route there but here it comes; my favorite chapter in The Wind in the Willows is The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. When I read something written by Lee or Cornelia, I feel just like Rat and Mole on that dewy, sunlit morning when they were given the gift of the vision of the Friend and Helper. Their piping draws me near and if I should read something that would cause distress, they give me one last gift and forgetfulness diminishes my fear.
Goodness, I think I am thinking too much. That's okay. Long and drawn out it may have been; however, it came straight from the heart. Lee Child and Cornelia Read are my heroes because of all my literary heroes; they are real.
There is always hope.
Betty
There was not much time spent with grandma after I started school and consequently, I cannot recall ever having read a children’s book at my parents’ house until my youngest brother was born, many years after I started school. I think I must have gone straight from "Go, Jane go" to reading everything I could get my hands on. I have always loved words. I love looking at them, writing them, researching them and saying them. Regrettably, the brain and the mouth are not always coordinated. If you could only hear me say some of the words I write you would laugh yourself silly. No matter, it's the look and taste and feel that I am addicted to.
Having said all that, the point is; words as far as I can tell, are the most human of our traits. I do not feel quite as lonely when I am in some way involved with words. It doesn't really matter what I am doing; reading, writing, or listening to song lyrics or the radio, even television is word craft in motion. I truly believe the words are what set us apart.
I do rattle on and I apologize, but please, be patient. I have been thinking all day long about my heroes in the literary world and there are many. Specifically, I have been trying to figure out why I am so smitten with Lee Child (well okay he is the very definition of hunk) put that aside for the moment; and Cornelia Read. They have two distinctly different styles and they are each very gifted writers. I understand the quality of their work is the main attraction for me. That is easy to understand. What I do not get is how I could be so attracted to the genre in the first place. I will tell you truly, before I read my first Jack Reacher book, it was a rare thing for me to read anything in the thriller/suspense category. The exception there bring that I have been a Lawrence Block fan since his days at Writer's Digest. For the most part, I read history (the Celtic region of Europe) and fantasy, romance and historical romance, the classics like Dickens, Defoe, Conrad and Thoreau. Homer, even, but very seldom did I venture into the violent bloody pages of a thriller. Circuitous route there but here it comes; my favorite chapter in The Wind in the Willows is The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. When I read something written by Lee or Cornelia, I feel just like Rat and Mole on that dewy, sunlit morning when they were given the gift of the vision of the Friend and Helper. Their piping draws me near and if I should read something that would cause distress, they give me one last gift and forgetfulness diminishes my fear.
Goodness, I think I am thinking too much. That's okay. Long and drawn out it may have been; however, it came straight from the heart. Lee Child and Cornelia Read are my heroes because of all my literary heroes; they are real.
There is always hope.
Betty
Monday, August 27, 2007
A Field Of Darkness, What A Read!
About the only good thing to come out of this past weekend was that I finished reading Cornelia’s book. I think it was a fabulous first offering and I cannot wait until she publishes something else. Her style is sharp and smart, witty and driven. She cuts no corners in developing either her characters or the plot. I do admire the way she paces her storyline. Giving just enough to show the things that need to be seen and yet not shorting us on the more intimate moments as the intricacy of story development and character interaction build to a truly unexpected climax. The protagonist, Madeline Dare, is gritty and vulnerable, courageous and terrified. She never lets her self-doubt prevent her pursuit of the truth and justice.
Madeline Dare comes from old money so old in fact, there is none left. Her hunky, farmer come-inventor husband is often gone for weeks on end, leaving Madeline to her own devices and her job as the local fluff piece writer on their Syracuse, NY newspaper. Madeline feels stifled and disconnected; she wants desperately to get out of Syracuse as quickly and completely as humanely possible. Discouraged and dreading her next stint alone she is surprised when her father-in-law shows her a pair of dog tags he dug up years ago in a field. The tags were right next to the place where two young girls were murdered. Inexplicably, the name on the dog tags is the same name as her favorite cousin from Oyster Bay. Desperately determined to prove her cousin had nothing to do with the murders, Maddie sets out on a quest to prove his innocence and discover, if she can, who the guilty party is.
It does not take long for Maddie to be reminded just how vindictive and ruthless the money side of her family can be. Soon, bodies are piling up and Madeline feels she is responsible for the death of one of her dearest friends. Ever determined to see justice done for the brutal murders, even if the guilty person is her beloved cousin, Madeline soon finds herself in her own fight for life against a diabolical killer. Will our blue-blooded DAR find the strength to survive, or will she flounder in self-doubt and second-guessing?
I think you need to read the book and find out. It is definitely worth the investment of both time and money. Three cheers for Cornelia Read! I really hope she brings Maddie and Ellis (Maddie’s best friend) back for another book or two. I think they make a great pair because they do not realize just how capable they really are.
There is always hope.
Betty
Madeline Dare comes from old money so old in fact, there is none left. Her hunky, farmer come-inventor husband is often gone for weeks on end, leaving Madeline to her own devices and her job as the local fluff piece writer on their Syracuse, NY newspaper. Madeline feels stifled and disconnected; she wants desperately to get out of Syracuse as quickly and completely as humanely possible. Discouraged and dreading her next stint alone she is surprised when her father-in-law shows her a pair of dog tags he dug up years ago in a field. The tags were right next to the place where two young girls were murdered. Inexplicably, the name on the dog tags is the same name as her favorite cousin from Oyster Bay. Desperately determined to prove her cousin had nothing to do with the murders, Maddie sets out on a quest to prove his innocence and discover, if she can, who the guilty party is.
It does not take long for Maddie to be reminded just how vindictive and ruthless the money side of her family can be. Soon, bodies are piling up and Madeline feels she is responsible for the death of one of her dearest friends. Ever determined to see justice done for the brutal murders, even if the guilty person is her beloved cousin, Madeline soon finds herself in her own fight for life against a diabolical killer. Will our blue-blooded DAR find the strength to survive, or will she flounder in self-doubt and second-guessing?
I think you need to read the book and find out. It is definitely worth the investment of both time and money. Three cheers for Cornelia Read! I really hope she brings Maddie and Ellis (Maddie’s best friend) back for another book or two. I think they make a great pair because they do not realize just how capable they really are.
There is always hope.
Betty
Goodness, What a Terrible Mess!
You may have noticed I have not been posting here on a regular basis lately. That was supposed to change last week. Ha, you know, for just a little while there, I thought it would happen. Wrong, and I will tell you why.
I suppose a quick recap of the summer will bring us all back up to speed. You may recall, the summer began with a sublime trip to Dayton so I could see the worlds greatest author (in his genre) Lee Child, and have my copy of his latest book signed. A visit from Homer and Irene followed that exquisite experience. We ended the month of June with a trip to the beautiful state of South Dakota; if the opportunity ever presents itself to you, do visit there. The people are friendly and the scenery is gorgeous. In July, we celebrated our 30Th anniversary by taking a trip to Delaware where we soaked up sun and sea at Bethany Beach. Book seven of the Harry Potter series arrived on our doorstep as promised on day it debuted here in the U.S. By the time we were home again, I was having frequent migraines and our Internet service was gimping along at what I felt certain was about half the speed it should have. We bought a Notebook and trundled into the month of August accompanied by several trips to the E.R. in search of relief from migraine pain. That pretty well brings things up to date through 17 August.
Feeling a little better during a break in the headaches, I emailed our ISP and asked them why our connection was so lousy. Regrettably, by the time they phoned on Monday or Tuesday last, to set a time to come and check out the equipment on site, I had another migraine and could not return their call. Don and I were also having a wee debate on whether or not there actually was a problem for them to check out. He did not want to put extra strain on my shoulders while I was feeling poorly and I was in so much pain I did not have the strength to care. Therefore, my getting back to them had been delayed until Friday afternoon, the 24Th. I give you my word the following is true. I called the service technician to schedule for today (Monday) and I had not been off the phone with him more than five minuets when our internet service quietly took one last gasp and died. This next part is my fault; not wanting to sound like a harpy, I decided to wait and see if the “weather” (always their excuse) was the culprit. Come Saturday, when I still had no internet service, I called my ISP. I waited by the phone for a return call from them the rest of the day, never came. So…here I sit. It is Monday morning and I know two things; one - I still do not have internet service and two - a service technician will be here some time today. I ask you, is it any wonder that I have a headache this morning? Thankfully, it is a tension headache and not a migraine.
Now for the BREAKING NEWS! Yea, he didn’t make it until after 3:00 P.M., but the service technician from my ISP has finally repaired my satellite! Phew, hope that never goes on the blink again.
There you have my minuscule, in the greater scheme of things, problems. I feel obligated to point out the fact that I am fully aware my problems are nothing earth shattering. I promise you, I am very grateful for that. Other than the headaches that I am certain are not an indicator of anything mysteriously fatal, I do count my lucky stars.
There is always hope.
Betty
I suppose a quick recap of the summer will bring us all back up to speed. You may recall, the summer began with a sublime trip to Dayton so I could see the worlds greatest author (in his genre) Lee Child, and have my copy of his latest book signed. A visit from Homer and Irene followed that exquisite experience. We ended the month of June with a trip to the beautiful state of South Dakota; if the opportunity ever presents itself to you, do visit there. The people are friendly and the scenery is gorgeous. In July, we celebrated our 30Th anniversary by taking a trip to Delaware where we soaked up sun and sea at Bethany Beach. Book seven of the Harry Potter series arrived on our doorstep as promised on day it debuted here in the U.S. By the time we were home again, I was having frequent migraines and our Internet service was gimping along at what I felt certain was about half the speed it should have. We bought a Notebook and trundled into the month of August accompanied by several trips to the E.R. in search of relief from migraine pain. That pretty well brings things up to date through 17 August.
Feeling a little better during a break in the headaches, I emailed our ISP and asked them why our connection was so lousy. Regrettably, by the time they phoned on Monday or Tuesday last, to set a time to come and check out the equipment on site, I had another migraine and could not return their call. Don and I were also having a wee debate on whether or not there actually was a problem for them to check out. He did not want to put extra strain on my shoulders while I was feeling poorly and I was in so much pain I did not have the strength to care. Therefore, my getting back to them had been delayed until Friday afternoon, the 24Th. I give you my word the following is true. I called the service technician to schedule for today (Monday) and I had not been off the phone with him more than five minuets when our internet service quietly took one last gasp and died. This next part is my fault; not wanting to sound like a harpy, I decided to wait and see if the “weather” (always their excuse) was the culprit. Come Saturday, when I still had no internet service, I called my ISP. I waited by the phone for a return call from them the rest of the day, never came. So…here I sit. It is Monday morning and I know two things; one - I still do not have internet service and two - a service technician will be here some time today. I ask you, is it any wonder that I have a headache this morning? Thankfully, it is a tension headache and not a migraine.
Now for the BREAKING NEWS! Yea, he didn’t make it until after 3:00 P.M., but the service technician from my ISP has finally repaired my satellite! Phew, hope that never goes on the blink again.
There you have my minuscule, in the greater scheme of things, problems. I feel obligated to point out the fact that I am fully aware my problems are nothing earth shattering. I promise you, I am very grateful for that. Other than the headaches that I am certain are not an indicator of anything mysteriously fatal, I do count my lucky stars.
There is always hope.
Betty
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Taffeta, Lace And A Spring Cotillion
I find it rather curious, the paths a mind will choose when pain forbids any normal entertainment. It would appear I am coming round again, the migraine is dissipating and I have had enough drugs and sleep for four people in the last three days.
My thoughts these last few days had a tendency to try and establish some sort of common ground between myself and the protagonist in Cornelia's book, Madeline. I know that sounds laughably absurd, but there you have it. That is precisely what I have been thinking about.
Madeline, as near as I can see, is trapped in the worlds preconception that she is a debutante. She needs to be accepted as she is, for who she is, not what other people think she is or should be. Madeline comes from a family where taffeta dresses lace handkerchiefs and cotillions rule the night and tennis lessons at the country club rule the day. Why, I wonder, do I feel such an affinity with this character?
People who know my family history must just as surely try to put this round person into a square slot. Somewhere along the line I probably wore somebodies third or fourth hand taffeta dress and patent leather shoes or borrowed a pair of lacy anklets for a special occasion. We were very poor according to the ways of the world. We survived without a lot of things, though rarely out of everything all at once. Many times we were out of heating fuel and forced to live with the heat the kitchen stove gave off. Being hungry was pretty much normal for us. A family that can't even afford a box of table salt is destitute and we often were that. As for the social graces, well, lets just say I was well into my twenties before I realized that a cotillion was not something you sheltered under during a storm.
And so I have to wonder, where does it come from? This affinity I feel with the fictional Madeline. Is it because she wants the same things I do? To be seen for who we have become and not as what we were born to be? Whatever the reason, I feel it is a great testimony to the skill of Cornelia's pen. For me at least, she has written a character as real as life.
There is always hope.
Betty
My thoughts these last few days had a tendency to try and establish some sort of common ground between myself and the protagonist in Cornelia's book, Madeline. I know that sounds laughably absurd, but there you have it. That is precisely what I have been thinking about.
Madeline, as near as I can see, is trapped in the worlds preconception that she is a debutante. She needs to be accepted as she is, for who she is, not what other people think she is or should be. Madeline comes from a family where taffeta dresses lace handkerchiefs and cotillions rule the night and tennis lessons at the country club rule the day. Why, I wonder, do I feel such an affinity with this character?
People who know my family history must just as surely try to put this round person into a square slot. Somewhere along the line I probably wore somebodies third or fourth hand taffeta dress and patent leather shoes or borrowed a pair of lacy anklets for a special occasion. We were very poor according to the ways of the world. We survived without a lot of things, though rarely out of everything all at once. Many times we were out of heating fuel and forced to live with the heat the kitchen stove gave off. Being hungry was pretty much normal for us. A family that can't even afford a box of table salt is destitute and we often were that. As for the social graces, well, lets just say I was well into my twenties before I realized that a cotillion was not something you sheltered under during a storm.
And so I have to wonder, where does it come from? This affinity I feel with the fictional Madeline. Is it because she wants the same things I do? To be seen for who we have become and not as what we were born to be? Whatever the reason, I feel it is a great testimony to the skill of Cornelia's pen. For me at least, she has written a character as real as life.
There is always hope.
Betty
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
The Very Best Of Thor - A Modern Anthology
I was snuggled deeply in the folds of sleep yesterday morning when out of nowhere, Boom! I was attacked by another migraine. That really is how quickly it happened, one minute sleeping and the next, The Very Best OF Thor - A Modern Anthology was pounding away inside my brainpan. He is still pounding away on his anvil, so this won't be a very long post.
Needless to say, at times like this it is difficult to think coherently, much less express ones thoughts effectively. However, I am willing to give it a go if you are.
Under the category of favorite music/composer/lyrics and so on, I have a new name to add to my list. Terry Oldfield, I must say with some regret, has been making wonderful music for years, I had just never been exposed to it before. I discovered him through the SEO Library Consortium. The eLirary is a wonderful place to discover new music, books, video and just about any other subject you can find in or through your local library. Some things are available for downloads to portable devices and others are viewable only on the Consortium site. So...Ah yes, as I was saying. I discovered Terry Oldfield and I think I really do have to have most everything he has recorded, starting with All The Rivers Gold. It is a beautiful album and every note on it speaks to my soul. The title song, All The Rivers Gold, has become my life anthem. I do love that song. In case you are wondering, his music comes under the New Age genre. I had no luck searching for his music on Amazon but I did find a couple of links through Epinions that lead me to reputable sources.
I think that is probably more than enough of this for today. Best get back to bed and the blessed dark.
There is always hope.
Betty
Needless to say, at times like this it is difficult to think coherently, much less express ones thoughts effectively. However, I am willing to give it a go if you are.
Under the category of favorite music/composer/lyrics and so on, I have a new name to add to my list. Terry Oldfield, I must say with some regret, has been making wonderful music for years, I had just never been exposed to it before. I discovered him through the SEO Library Consortium. The eLirary is a wonderful place to discover new music, books, video and just about any other subject you can find in or through your local library. Some things are available for downloads to portable devices and others are viewable only on the Consortium site. So...Ah yes, as I was saying. I discovered Terry Oldfield and I think I really do have to have most everything he has recorded, starting with All The Rivers Gold. It is a beautiful album and every note on it speaks to my soul. The title song, All The Rivers Gold, has become my life anthem. I do love that song. In case you are wondering, his music comes under the New Age genre. I had no luck searching for his music on Amazon but I did find a couple of links through Epinions that lead me to reputable sources.
I think that is probably more than enough of this for today. Best get back to bed and the blessed dark.
There is always hope.
Betty
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