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Showing posts from January, 2014

Her and an unidentified plastic object

This week has been strange. The creative writing class I'm teaching started this week, so that's been fun. My husband has been in London until late yesterday, so I've had a lot of alone time. The puppy ate some toothpaste-colored plastic thing that I am yet to identify and got sick Wednesday, so that sucked. Roofers have been working on our apartment all week, except yesterday, so though I've had alone time I have not had quiet time. And, we had a no-snow snow day in San Antonio yesterday. The city basically shut down due to some ice and freezing temperatures, which I loved. Variety is lacking here as far as weather goes, and though I don't miss driving in icy conditions, I do like a little winter (key word being little).

To cap off the week, I went to the movies. I had no desire to see Her, but a friend of mine invited me to go to the movies after a long week, and the showing fit our schedule so I found myself paying nine dollars for a ticket. The movie started o…

Visiting Toledo

Ohio is embroidered into most of my fiction, largely because it is so much of who I am. This is probably why I haven't been able to stop thinking about my recent trip to downtown Toledo, Ohio (my grandmother's hometown) at the end of 2013.

In a brand new Ford Edge, my upgraded rental car (thanks to a lengthy wait at the rental agency), I drove the twenty minutes from the airport to my grandmother's home. The flight had gone well, and the smooth drive (especially when compared to my 2001 Honda with the tricky clutch) put me in a sort of daze. As did Toledo itself. The quiet of it, the empty of it. I marveled at the lack of drivers on the road and changed lanes seamlessly and without having to be strategic. It was nice in a way but also unsettling.

After visiting my grandmother and dining at a Chinese buffet that served mushy food that probably ate some of my stomach lining since, my husband and I settled into a hotel downtown. We went down to the bar/restaurant near the lob…


“I don’t care if a reader hates one of my stories, just as long as he finishes the book.” —Roald Dahl

I have some specific writing news to share later in the week. In the meantime, I wanted to share a realization I arrived at shortly after collecting and archiving older work over the weekend. Actually, I believe I was motivated to write about said insight all the more after watching Inside Llewyn Davis, a Coen brothers' movie about a struggling and often unlikable vocal artist whose one redeeming quality, it seems, is his unwillingness to sell out or sell short what he believes sacred--his art. When I first walked out of the movie theater, I felt that I'd just watched the equivalent 2 solid hours of wuah wuah. But as the movie sunk in (as I like to believe it was meant to), the same insight I had after the archiving returned all the stronger; suddenly, I saw the beauty in the protagonist's desire to create at any and all cost.


When I was a kid and ran competitively again…

Happy 2014

I hope you brought in the new year in a fantastic way. If you didn't, you will next year. This is the beauty of a new start. Moving forward.

My new year was brought in with family, and though I've never been the type of person to pretend everything is perfect in my life when it is not (despite this being common online etiquette), I can honestly say I wouldn't have wanted to bring in the new year any other way than with my mother. It was just about perfect.

My husband and I returned to Columbus a few days ago, after visiting my grandmother in Toledo. My family is okay but could be doing better. My grandmother's neighborhood in Toledo is rough and her health is declining. My mother's foot is hurting after multiple surgeries. My sister is having health problems. We all argued quite a bit. My husband wasn't feeling well. I am allergic to Mom's cats. And yet, it was just about perfect. We ate; we laughed; we fought but made up; we pet the dander machines because…