Noah, knit me a scarf! February 29, 2008
Posted by philangelus in knitting.9 comments
I need some advice from those wiser than myself. Without getting into all the details, I’ve felt compelled to make and donate a beaded scarf. The barest details involve more than four dreams, one of which I actually saw myself working with yarn that had beads on it.
Since I’d bought yarn for a scarf-to-donate back in December, plus beads for a project-to-be-named later in early January, supplies aren’t an issue. It’s Ivy’s self-fringing scarf, and I’m learning to put beads on it. I started it last night at 7:30 and it’s a sixth of the way done this morning. So far, so good.
The yellow bits of scrap yarn show me where the beads need to go. The poor-man’s stitch marker, as it were.
I figure, if God is asking for a scarf, God should get one. If God isn’t, well, someone who needs one will get one. Friends and I can’t figure out a reason for the enemy to want me to donate a beaded scarf, so I think we’re safe.
Here’s my question: when I originally bought the yarn, I planned to make a hat to go with the scarf. I will probably have enough yarn to make both the hat and the scarf (and beads, too) but what I may run out of is time. See, I’ll be next door to the place where I intended to donate them on Tuesday morning, and it feels like that’s when I should drop off the scarf. I can definitely finish the scarf by then. The hat is problematic.
We live in a cold part of the world, but it’s getting warmer. Hats are more useful than scarves. Hats are also more difficult to make.
The recipient-place isn’t going to close and go away, unfortunately (I doubt my donations have solved hunger in Angeltown) so the option remains of donating the set together when they’re done.
What would you do? Would you assume God wanted the hat *and* the scarf donated? (They should go simultaneously, if they’re a set.) Or would you assume the urgency was that God wanted the scarf done Now-Now-Now and the heck with the hat?
Regardless, I’ll be working on the scarf today as I get a chance.
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Edited later to add a link to the finished scarf.
And a response to the pair of posts.
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Speaking of knitters making the world a better place, there’s a prayer request out on a knitting blog for baby Ted. He’s a very tiny preemie, and he’s not doing so well (and there’s a photo of him right at the top of the page, so if you’re an emotional preggo like I am, THOU ART WARNED.) The blog owner is raffling off a skein of sock yarn among those who send prayers or financial donations, but even if that doesn’t float your boat, please pray for baby Ted and for all who love him, because this is a harrowing time.
Kiddo#2’s discovery February 28, 2008
Posted by philangelus in kiddos, music.14 comments
Kiddo#2 was singing while I washed dishes, when suddenly she stopped. “Why are all the songs you like about love?”
I honestly cannot remember which song it was she had been singing at the time, but does it really matter? If you’re listening to the current gleanings from pop/light rock radio, you’re going to be surfeit of love songs.
I replied, “Most of the songs out there are love songs.”
Then I returned to washing dishes. A moment or two later, Kiddo#2 ventured, “How about If I Had A Million Dollars?”
I said, “It is. He says ‘if I had a million dollars, I’d buy you love.’“
She gave a pensive frown, but fortunately she didn’t dredge up any more samples. Maybe “Life’s Been Good” or “Bicycle Race” (the chorus to which, to my chagrin, the Kiddos can sing even though they’ve never heard the song. Don’t ask.) Or “Mr. Roboto,” which Kiddo#1 used to call “Secret-Secret-I’ve-Got-A-Secret.” He was delighted to realize two of his favorite songs were actually the same song.
I didn’t even touch the crop of failed-love songs (“How the hell’d we wind up like this?” Indeed.) Someday, somehow she’ll realize that American culture glorifies pair-bonding and romantic love to the point of insanity, and it’s quite possible I’m helping her along that primrose path. The Christian rock which makes its way onto my playlists isn’t sufficient to offset the romance songs, but I guess the kid-songs that she hears from Music Together have given her a basic grounding in non-love songs. Jim-Along Josie, anyone? How about Ally-Bally-Bee?
And yes, she knows from my forays into Mozart that you can have really powerful music with no words at all. (This is the same little girl who was barking Eine Kleine Nachtmusik to her stuffed puppy last year, or who inserts her own running monologue into the Ode To Joy and makes it scan.)
The funny thing is, I remember making the same realization as a young girl, that all these people on the radio sang about love, and didn’t they have anything better to talk about?
Kiddo#1, about six months ago, said dreamily, “The songs on the radio are all so unselfish,” causing me and my Patient Husband to choke on our coffee before feebly managing, “How do you figure?”
K#1 replied, “Every single song mentions you.”
Er, yeah: in the context of how YOU can gratify ME. I hardly call that unselfish. But of course, that led to a week and a half of me and the Patient Husband abruptly calling song titles across the house to verify that maybe we’d found a youless song.
Me: Bohemian Rhapsody?
PH: ‘Didn’t mean to make you cry.’
Me: Nuts.
[...]
PH: It’s A Kind Of Magic
Me: ‘A bell that rings inside your mind.’
PH: That’s ‘your.’
Me: Does that count?
PH: Well, maybe.
Yes, we are sick and have too many wasted brain cells.
If you’re curious, “Come Sail Away,” though addressed to someone offstage and filled with you-understood, never actually uses the word “you.”
A trip to the doctor February 27, 2008
Posted by philangelus in kiddos, sarcasm.add a comment
I ended up at the doctor’s office for a sinus infection. I hadn’t seen the doctor in over two years, a duration I highly recommend.
First off, Dr. H is a sharp cookie. He walks in and says, “Oh, you’re pregnant.” And I’d never even told him! Amazing powers of observation.
So I waddled over to the exam table and heaved myself up onto the crinkly paper, and while Kiddo#3 needed convincing not to break his head open on the wheeled doctor stool (“Sweetie, that’s only for doctors because they’re taller than Kiddos”) Dr. H took my blood pressure. Declared it fine.
It was 120 over 65. Usually during pregnancy, it’s about 90 over 50.
I’ve realized this lately: on midwife visits where I don’t have Kiddo#3 with me, my bp is nice and low, almost in the smelling-salt range. The presence of Kiddo#3 in the exam room raises it by twenty points, minimum. This may explain why I haven’t had issues with passing out this pregnancy.
At any rate, Dr. H asked me questions to figure out how deathly ill I was, and really, I wasn’t. I knew this, but I knew I wasn’t getting better either, and I was in pain. You could see him thinking.
Considerations:
- the fact that I really don’t drop by to see him that often (they didn’t have my current insurance on file, which we’ve had for over 18 months)
- the fact that normally I fight about whether medication is *really* necessary
- the fact that he wanted an active Kiddo#3 out of his otherwise well-ordered office
The last is very important. At one point, Dr. H said, “I can see why he’d raise your blood pressure.”
I replied, “He’s actually behaving pretty well today.” Kiddo#3 is very enthusiastic about everything. By coming to Dr. H’s office, I’d opened a whole new world to him. He wanted to experience the whole thing.
I walked out with a free sample medication, instructions on two more I needed to buy OTC, and a prescription to fill in three days if I wasn’t better. Oh, and Kiddo#3 got to keep my “paper shirt,” the fashion must-have for the in-style patient getting her lungs listened to.
“I never heard it called a paper shirt before,” Dr. H said as we left. I think he’s glad I’m not a hypochondriac and that I have an inherent mistrust of medications. Don’t you?
Annihilation: favorite moment, chapter 8 February 26, 2008
Posted by philangelus in Seven Archangels: Annihilation, writing.add a comment
Seven Archangels: Annihilation, chapter 8 is up over at MindFlights.
This chapter is pivotal to Raphael. He’s one of my favorite characters, and I love writing him, but he definitely goes through a wringer in this book. possible spoilers behind cut
Today’s ‘Dear Abby’: the tragedy of an ugly baby February 25, 2008
Posted by philangelus in pensive, religion, sarcasm.add a comment
I have to admit I was stunned by the 2/25 Dear Abby. (First letter.)
The gist of the letter is, the letter-writer had two beautiful children with her first husband, and now her second husband wants to have a baby. She’s reluctant (no, she’s loathe to have another baby because)…
The new baby might be ugly.
No really. The previous children were beautiful, and what if this baby is ugly?
Don’t you envy a world-view where that’s the worst possible thing you can think of happening?
Abby told her to get over herself (a bit nicer than that, but still.) And really, I’m kind of stunned that anyone would even think about appearance as a reason not to have a child. “Well, my husband was ugly as a baby, and if I have a baby with him, maybe my baby will be ugly!”
Let’s say she does have a baby, and it’s not as beautiful as her other two: Will she love that baby less because the baby isn’t going to be on the cover of a magazine? Will she introduce “Venus and Adonis, my two beautiful children. And this is Francine. She’s smart”?
Do you think the Catholic Church would see this as a grave reason not to have children? (“Forgive me, Father, for I have reproduced, and the child is not stunningly gorgeous.”) Or am I just being cold-hearted and totally missing the point here?
BTW, I’m coming toward this as someone whose baby was missing the top of her head, and honestly, after the first second when I looked at Emily, I never really saw that part of her again. It simply didn’t matter to me after the first moment or two, not as an appearance issue. Of course, it mattered to me because she was going to die because of it, but Emily’s appearance was not an impediment to loving her.
And that’s the way God looks at us too. Our souls are worn out and sinful and bedraggled and threadbare in spots, and I’m sure human ugliness looks awful to Divine eyes. But God sees past the appearance and the sin to love us. Love us as we are separate from how we could be or how we measure up to others.
In other words, God made us knowing we’d be ugly at times. And God made us anyhow.
I hope the letter-writer gets her priorities straightened out, or comes to terms with whatever her real fear is, because what she’s expressing as her fear might not be the actual fear. It might well be that having a baby with this new guy is bringing up fears of abandonment the previous guy left behind, but this is the easiest fear to latch onto. Regardless, she needs some kind of insight into her own heart.
Creeeeeeepy! February 25, 2008
Posted by philangelus in kiddos.2 comments
In the middle of the night, I staggered out of bed to use the bathroom, which is getting tougher to do with this baby in my middle. So there I am, in the middle of the night, chilly, exhausted, unable to think coherently, when I see it.
I’m being stared at.
By a blind frog. Click here for the creepiness…
Oh good grief, I’m nesting. February 23, 2008
Posted by philangelus in sarcasm, writing.add a comment
I’m 33 weeks pregnant, and so help me, I’m nesting.
Have I cleaned anything? No.
Have I begun cooking mountains of food? No.
Have I caught up on the laundry? Well, kind of, but I’ve been good about laundry lately.
So how am I nesting? I’m stockpiling weblog entries.
This is unreal. Usually I’m one or two entries ahead of posting, just so I have something ready to go at the right time. Right now? I’ve got ten weblog entries sitting here in the queue, ready to be whipped out at a moment’s notice for publication. And I wasn’t even doing it consciously. It’s just, “Idea, quick writing, preview, save. Get new idea.”
I’ve never been a neatnick. I guess this is how writers nest.
The joys of the anecdote February 22, 2008
Posted by philangelus in writing.5 comments
To continue the bit on advertorial writing, there’s a challenge in writing it because you want the reader hooked, and yet you’re writing non-fiction.
You interview the One With The Dream, and you find out how much the organization rocks. (And again, I’m always surprised. One guy who did kitchens looked at me once, got a dreamy expression, and murmured, “Do you know what I could do with your cabinets?” For a moment I was actually scared, like when you receive an obscene call and the voice tells you what he wants to do with your delicate laundry while you’re still wearing it.)
The key is to then turn around and make readers catch the same fire, because to be blunt, no one cares about kitchen cabinets. Well, some people do: and they’re already looking for contractors. If you’re writing about a kitchen cabinet restoring guru, the object is to attract people like me who have a so-so kitchen and impart to them The Dream Of The Amazing Kitchen Cabinet.
As a writer, your first thought is, “Yeah, and do it without using the letter E or the comma, too, why not?”
I’ll give you a secret: the answer, my friend, is the story.
The anecdote. The living, breathing human being who also caught the dream.
In the case of Kitchen Cabinet Guy, this is a non-story opening:
Kitchen Cabinets, Etc. opened in 2005, providing kitchen-restoring services to everyone in the Greater Angeltown metropolitan area.”
Yawn. Turn the page. Instead the advertorial writer opens with a story and keeps the reader for longer than a paragraph:
Marcia Stern loved hostessing, but she flinched whenever guests entered her kitchen. The reason? Grimy cabinets that never came entirely clean, as well as counter-tops and a layout that might as well have had “Established: 1976″ engraved in granite. Before her daughter’s wedding, Marcia contacted Kitchen Cabinets, Etc., and Kitchen Cabinet Guy transformed her kitchen into a showpiece that garnered even more attention than the bride.”
Is it cheesy? You betcha. Does it work? Absolutely. And the reason is that a reader can step into the shoes of a person but can’t as easily get into the shoes of a concept. “Outdated kitchen” isn’t as accessible to your average reader as “Woman loves to cook but feels embarrassed about her kitchen.”
To that end, I’ve opened pieces with a mom with kids whose car broke down on the highway in the rain (a roadside assistance piece); a family that didn’t have to choose between dinner or a show when they could have both (a teppanyaki restaurant); a parent phoned by the school when her child gets hurt (an orthopedics practice); and an assortment of the types of students who chose a community college (figure it out).
This technique, opening with an anecdote, works well for nonfiction pieces too. Give the reader a listing of facts and she turns the page. Grab her with someone she can identify, and she’ll stay. Try it next time!
I’ve met this guy! February 21, 2008
Posted by philangelus in sarcasm.add a comment
Not the artist, but the subject of the drawing:
I got a good laugh out of that. Web arguments always seem to get so tense.
the joys of advertorial writing February 21, 2008
Posted by philangelus in writing.1 comment so far
Your first thought is, “What on earth is advertorial?”
No, it’s not adversarial. It’s advertising plus editorial, those articles you see in the newspaper that are actually ads. They’re paid for like ads, but they’re written by freelancers like me. I don’t get paid in truckloads of twenties, but I get something far more important than money.
First, I get experience. I get to enter into the world of a business owner, a contractor, a chiropractor, a college president. (For the record: yes, a college president. When I was a student, I had no chance of meeting a college president, but as a “reporter” I’m suddenly a desirable sort of human to have around. Intriguing switch, that.)
For a moment I see the universe through my client’s eyes. I learn about parts of the world I never imagined, and I’m allowed to ask questions without feeling like an idiot because there’s no way I should already know this stuff. The individual often drops the public persona and becomes, for just a moment, a regular man or woman who happens to be living a dream.
And that leads to the most important joy: the enthusiasm. Every time I write advertorial pieces, I’m astonished by the excitement of the person I interview.
It makes sense: if these individuals didn’t love what they were doing, they would have remained in the less-risky corporate environments they originally came from. Instead, they find in their own business a reason to get up in the morning, put in a 15-hour day, and go home thinking about the next day’s work.
And when they tell me about their business, like a sponge, I absorb their thrill. In order to write them a piece that scintillates with their enthusiasm, I pick it up. I reach into their hearts in order to find that gem which makes their job worthwhile, and when I find it, my article becomes that jewel’s setting.
While I’m writing, I’m writing in their voices, expressing their dreams, and imparting to anyone who reads the same sense of excitement. You as the writer want their business to succeed just as much as they do. You see this business or venture as a real thing of value in an otherwise dismal and heartless world.
It is, in a word, marvelous. And that’s why I do it, year after year.
Intrigued? Let’s take it one step further, then, and learn how to hook the reader!
