I heard from my agent today. I haven't heard from her for awhile; she's been on vacation. But today I received an email from her. She sent my mystery novel to an editor and asked her to look it over. She is mystified that she had been unable to sell it and wanted some feedback. I received the report via email, and I got some information that will help me as a writer overall, as well as what I need to do to put this book into better shape.
The thing that really made me happy was that the editor thought I was a good writer. I have always believed that I was, but somehow when someone else confirms your belief it feels pretty good.
So now it's back to work. Any of you who have read my book, or would like to, I could use any and all feedback. Let me know, and please, wish me luck!
Monday, August 11, 2008
Saturday, August 9, 2008
Bat Mitzvah
We went to our neighbor Rachel's bat mitzvah this morning. We've lived across the street from the Ginsburg's for eight years now and have watched this young girl grow into a lovely and accomplished young woman.
This coming of age ceremony takes place when a Jewish boy or girl reaches age 13. At this time, according to Jewish law, the bar or bat mitzvah is considered to be an adult and old enough to assume religious responsibility. Bar means "son of"; bat means "daughter of" and mitzvah means "commandment". Thus, the bar or bat mitzvah is expected to oserve the commandments, the heart of Jewish tradition. He/she is considered ready to accept their religious duties and be responsible for their own ethical behavior.
To reach this point, the bar or bat mitzvah has fulfilled an educational goal demanding many years of studying the Hebrew language, Jewish rituals, and the history of Judaism. Each bar mitzvah also designs and completes a community service project. Rachel built a pupet theater for a special needs class in order for the teacher to have that resource to teach her students new skills and cooperation techniques.
In addition to participating throughout the service, Rachel was called to the pulpit to recite appropriate blessings, to read from the Torah (the Five Books of Moses), and to chant the related passage from the Jewish prophets, as well as deliver a personal address to the congregation.
Rachel looked so happy and pleased; her parents were bursting with pride. It was a happy day, and an interesting and learning experience for me.
This coming of age ceremony takes place when a Jewish boy or girl reaches age 13. At this time, according to Jewish law, the bar or bat mitzvah is considered to be an adult and old enough to assume religious responsibility. Bar means "son of"; bat means "daughter of" and mitzvah means "commandment". Thus, the bar or bat mitzvah is expected to oserve the commandments, the heart of Jewish tradition. He/she is considered ready to accept their religious duties and be responsible for their own ethical behavior.
To reach this point, the bar or bat mitzvah has fulfilled an educational goal demanding many years of studying the Hebrew language, Jewish rituals, and the history of Judaism. Each bar mitzvah also designs and completes a community service project. Rachel built a pupet theater for a special needs class in order for the teacher to have that resource to teach her students new skills and cooperation techniques.
In addition to participating throughout the service, Rachel was called to the pulpit to recite appropriate blessings, to read from the Torah (the Five Books of Moses), and to chant the related passage from the Jewish prophets, as well as deliver a personal address to the congregation.
Rachel looked so happy and pleased; her parents were bursting with pride. It was a happy day, and an interesting and learning experience for me.
Friday, August 8, 2008
A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND
It is only with the heart that one can see clearly. That which is essential is invisible to the eye.Antoine de Saint-Exupery
1900-1944
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Driving Lesson
My youngest son, Kevin, is 16 and has his driving permit. He always wants to go driving. Yesterday I decided that we would spend the day having one major driving lesson. We spent 2-1/2 hours driving all over Colorado Springs. And since he was spending a lot of time behind the wheel, I thought it best if we ran some errands while he got his experience. We went to the eye doctor, got the last of the school supplies we needed, and stopped in at Burger King for a cold drink and a break during the hot weather.
Kevin is a big Bon Jovi fan and put on some of their music as we drove all over town. At one point I started to sing along.
"Please don't," he calmly said.
"Do I embarass you?" I asked.
"No."
"I don't embarass you?"
"No," he reiterated. "But you have ruined some songs for me."
Oh my gosh, I almost wet my pants I laughed so hard. I guess we can chalk this up to another session with his therapist after he grows up!
Kevin is a big Bon Jovi fan and put on some of their music as we drove all over town. At one point I started to sing along.
"Please don't," he calmly said.
"Do I embarass you?" I asked.
"No."
"I don't embarass you?"
"No," he reiterated. "But you have ruined some songs for me."
Oh my gosh, I almost wet my pants I laughed so hard. I guess we can chalk this up to another session with his therapist after he grows up!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Family Traditions
Have you ever had a moment when you see your mother in yourself? I think every woman has had this experience. I have, and it's not one of those things I really want to carry on. It's the old, kleenex up the sleeve, or inside the bra or wherever you happen to tuck the doggone things.
When I was a kid my mother always had kleenex falling from her. Like little white wads of dandelion fluff they'd filter out and drift around her. As a teenager it was embarassing. Especially if she happened to drag one out and offer it to me or my friend. Yikes!
The other day we were out getting the car taken care of, and I stopped in a public restroom and noticed this lump in my bra. Yep, you guessed it, the proverbial wad of tissues ready and waiting. What was I thinking?
From now on I think I'll carry on my mother's fried chicken recipe or her love of family history and leave the tissues in the box.
When I was a kid my mother always had kleenex falling from her. Like little white wads of dandelion fluff they'd filter out and drift around her. As a teenager it was embarassing. Especially if she happened to drag one out and offer it to me or my friend. Yikes!
The other day we were out getting the car taken care of, and I stopped in a public restroom and noticed this lump in my bra. Yep, you guessed it, the proverbial wad of tissues ready and waiting. What was I thinking?
From now on I think I'll carry on my mother's fried chicken recipe or her love of family history and leave the tissues in the box.
Friday, August 1, 2008
A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND
I once had a sparrow alight upon my shoulder for a moment, while I was hoeing in a village garden, and I felt that I was more distinguished by that circumstance that I should have been by any epaulet I could have worn.
Henry David Thoreau
1817-1862
Thursday, July 31, 2008
WoW
The summer before Stan and I got engaged, a friend and I decided we would go on vacation together. For some reason, and I've never fully understood why, Ilene and I thought that camping would be the best thing ever. I owned a tent and sleeping bag, borrowed my parents camp stove and lantirn and we loaded up my little Toyota and took off.
We decided on a place called Whiskey Town, a lake and campground in northern California near Mt. Shasta. It was terrific. We swam, ate talked and took long naps. The only problem was there were no showers. The only time we saw water was when we went swimming. The temperature hung around 112 so you can imagine how we looked and, well, smelled.
Ten days of camping without showering and we were a sight. We named ourselves the Women of the Woods (WoW) and decided to just enjoy ourselves.
The highlight was when we ventured into a small logging town for the 4th of July festivities. Homemade pies were for sale on the lawn of the Parsonage, the Fire Department had a corn roast, the library sold homemade lemonade and little old ladies were selling handmade doilies and quilts, there was a band playing in the square (yep, a town square!) and then there was the parade.
Two things became very evident as we sat on the curb eating homemade ice cream and watching that parade: this was indeed a very small town, and logging was the big operation. Here came everything from little kids on tricycles decorated with crepe paper and playing cards clipped to the spokes, all the way up to these hugemongous logging trucks that were also decorated with ribbons and Christmas lights. It was a blast.
Every now and then I trot those memories out and re-examine them. Small town life can be charming, but those WoWs were happy to get home to their showers, let me tell you!
We decided on a place called Whiskey Town, a lake and campground in northern California near Mt. Shasta. It was terrific. We swam, ate talked and took long naps. The only problem was there were no showers. The only time we saw water was when we went swimming. The temperature hung around 112 so you can imagine how we looked and, well, smelled.
Ten days of camping without showering and we were a sight. We named ourselves the Women of the Woods (WoW) and decided to just enjoy ourselves.
The highlight was when we ventured into a small logging town for the 4th of July festivities. Homemade pies were for sale on the lawn of the Parsonage, the Fire Department had a corn roast, the library sold homemade lemonade and little old ladies were selling handmade doilies and quilts, there was a band playing in the square (yep, a town square!) and then there was the parade.
Two things became very evident as we sat on the curb eating homemade ice cream and watching that parade: this was indeed a very small town, and logging was the big operation. Here came everything from little kids on tricycles decorated with crepe paper and playing cards clipped to the spokes, all the way up to these hugemongous logging trucks that were also decorated with ribbons and Christmas lights. It was a blast.
Every now and then I trot those memories out and re-examine them. Small town life can be charming, but those WoWs were happy to get home to their showers, let me tell you!
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Betty Co-ed
School's about to start, and it has me thinking. This fall my best friend, Beth, and I will have known each other for 40 years. It seems hard to believe, since I certainly don't feel like a grownup a lot of the time. Especially when Beth and I get together. We laugh and goof off like we're still in high school!
My mother used to sing for us an old song from the 1930s called "Betty Coed" that we loved. It was sweet and silly, and I thought I'd share part of the lyrics here with you in honor of school starting, and the blessing of still having my sweet friend in my life.
Betty Co-ed has lips of red for Harvard
Betty Co-ed has eyes of Yale's deep blue
Betty Co-ed's a golden haired for Princeton
Her dress I guess is black for old Purdue!
Betty Co-ed's a smile for Pennsylvania
Her heart is Dartmouth's treasure, so 'tis said
Betty Co-ed is loved by every college boy
But I'm the one who's loved by Betty Co-ed!
My mother used to sing for us an old song from the 1930s called "Betty Coed" that we loved. It was sweet and silly, and I thought I'd share part of the lyrics here with you in honor of school starting, and the blessing of still having my sweet friend in my life.
Betty Co-ed has lips of red for Harvard
Betty Co-ed has eyes of Yale's deep blue
Betty Co-ed's a golden haired for Princeton
Her dress I guess is black for old Purdue!
Betty Co-ed's a smile for Pennsylvania
Her heart is Dartmouth's treasure, so 'tis said
Betty Co-ed is loved by every college boy
But I'm the one who's loved by Betty Co-ed!
Monday, July 28, 2008
A Moment's Reflection
When giving our hearts to a child, it is more than giving them our love. It is in forgiving them as well as asking them for their forgiveness when we have offended them. Children need to know that in making a mistake they will not be loved less. There is no dishonor in asking a 3-year-old’s forgiveness when you have lost your temper or hurt them in some way. It teaches them the value of humility, and that love can indeed bear all things.
Time for a child is as much as they can get with us. Most children don’t care about “quality time.” Children just want to be with you. And the time they do get to spend with you is precious to them.
We can all remember time spent in our childhood with various adults in our lives – aunts, uncles, grandparents, family friends, ward members, teachers and so on. In most of those memories we cannot always remember what we were doing, but we can remember the feeling the encounter left us with.
The Savior has taught us by His example and His words that children are special. They are to be treated as such. They are a gift from Him to us. To all of us. They are not our right, they are not our property. They are our treasures. They are our blessings.
I hope I never forget this.
Time for a child is as much as they can get with us. Most children don’t care about “quality time.” Children just want to be with you. And the time they do get to spend with you is precious to them.
We can all remember time spent in our childhood with various adults in our lives – aunts, uncles, grandparents, family friends, ward members, teachers and so on. In most of those memories we cannot always remember what we were doing, but we can remember the feeling the encounter left us with.
The Savior has taught us by His example and His words that children are special. They are to be treated as such. They are a gift from Him to us. To all of us. They are not our right, they are not our property. They are our treasures. They are our blessings.
I hope I never forget this.
Friday, July 25, 2008
A THOUGHT FOR THE WEEKEND
Beautiful young people are accidents of nature, but beautiful old people are works of art.Eleanor Roosevelt
1884-1962
1884-1962
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