Welcome Home!

                                                   

                                                 Presley waiting.

                                   Why I love my four-legged friends. 

I'm Back, Again

First things first.  I have missed blogging.  Yes, I have been very busy (more on that later), but there is no excuse for not checking like like I promised.  I'm happy to be back!

Rule #48  When trying to work two part-time jobs, remember not to move your business and oh yeah, your home.  That's right.  We have moved and I still have boxes stacked around me like a cardboard fortress in my small computer room.  I literally have to climb out of my chair and weave through a small path to the hall. 

The good news is that I'm back to only working one part-time job.  The bad news is I'm really missing that extra small paycheck.  The good news is I'm back at the computer.  The bad news is I'm back at the computer and not unpacking these freaking boxes!

I've made some changes to my blog and expect additional changes in the very near future.  I decided that I really like the title Random Morning Glories, so I dropped the Pine Trees &.  I'm still in Middle Georgia surrounding by my pines, but shorter is better.  What do y'all think?

Now, about that busy part.  I'm still busy, just not as structured.  I plan to tell y'all more about my temp job and I will definitely keep y'all updated on our wonderful new place (with pictures)!  Just not right now.

Right now, I'm signing off, but I will be back here soon.  Promise.  And I mean it.

Perpetual Writing Prompts - Notes from The Blue Ridge Writer's Conference

The Blue Ridge Writer's Conference held a few weeks ago was smaller this year than previous years, but was a wonderful learning experience.  Due to traffic in Atlanta, I missed the opening reception, arriving just as everyone was leaving.  I hated to miss the opportunity to meet and greet the various speakers, but I arrived at the conference first thing Saturday, ready to learn.

I'll skip the keynote speaker for now and go directly to my first workshop, 'The Greatest Writing Prompt Ever', led by Scott Owens.  Scott is the author of 6 collections of poetry, editor of Wild Goose Poetry Review, Vice-President of the Poetry Council of NC, and founder of Poetry Hickory.  He also teaches at Catawba Valley Community College in Hickory and has been nominated for two Pushcart prizes.  He has read his work on NPR, the Writer's Almanac, the Joe Milford Poetry Show, and WordPlay.  Whew!  He is an amazing speaker and teacher.

He asked us to jot down a list of noteworthy moments.  Hmmm, I stared off in space as I fast-backwarded through my life.  Suddenly I channeled Charlie Sheen.  Winning.  That was it.  Winning is good.  I always felt good winning especially because winning did not happen often enough that it became old hat.  In my youth I won blue ribbons at several horse shows.  Winning.  I know the feeling.

Then Scott Owens made some suggestions to help us making our noteworthy list.  "Think of something so one else noticed."  Hmmm.  "Did it make you sad?  Happy?  Was it ironic?"  He gave us a few more minutes to finish our list. 

Now, a few weeks later, as I glance of my hastily written list of 12 moments, I agree with all of them and I could spend days adding to it.  Try it.  Write your own noteworthy moment list.

OK, then he ask us to list all the places where we lived/occupied/stayed.  Add specific details.  Describe it in physical and spiritual terms. 

Now, I hate to say, but I had to leave his workshop because the critique of my novel was scheduled.  I would like to thank Scott Owens for his excellent workshop and encourage you to check out his poetry.  He read a few to us that were powerful.  I'll post some of his web-sites at the end.

In another excellent workshop I attended which I will discuss at a later date, Robert Lee Brewer suggested that as writers we should share in our web-sites, blogs, tweets, and social networking sites any tips that other writers might find helpful.  So here is my tip, based on the writing prompts offered by Scott Owens.

Go back through your list and think of the smallest, most quiet moment you experienced during that noteworthy moment.  What thought crossed your mind?  What were you doing?  Who was with you?  Now, write about it.

For me, winning that blue ribbon and trophy was a noteworthy moment, but it was during a practice ride a few weeks before the show when everything clicked.  Instead of just riding, going through the motions of guiding my horse around the ring, I figured out the key to that particular horse.  I could set his head up by slightly jiggling the snaffle rein and bit.  With just a small touch he responded, rising up to march down the straight-away, like a winner. 

Macon Horse Show, Sept 1974, Happy Holliday & me, 1st place, 3-gaited amateur.  That's my trainer Temple Stephenson holding Happy's head.  Can anyone ID the ribbon girl?

Before I saw my wonderful trainer excitedly jumping up and down, before I was close enough to hear his encouragement, I knew I could show this horse and win.  That confidence has carried me through many situations and I still call on it today. 

Winning.  For Charlie Sheen it is the catch-phrase of the week.  For me, it was a life-altering experience that I pull out and use when I write.

Please check out these web-sites for Scott Owens. 

http://www.scottowenspoet.com/
http://www.scottowensmusings.blogspot.com/
http://www.wildgoosepoetryreview.com/

Thoughts from the Blue Ridge Writer's Conference

April 2nd I attended The Fourteenth Annual Blue Ridge Writer's Conference, billed as 'a meeting in the mountains for readers and writers'.  This was my third Blue Ridge conference and I was very excited to be able to attend and to be back in a town Sweetie and I call our adopted home.

As I sat through the opening remarks and welcome, I thought back on how I got to this point.  I want to share a little of my background today and I will continue my conference experiences and notes over the next few weeks. 

I lived in Blue Ridge several years before I knew about this conference.  Honestly, the first time I heard about it, I did not think of myself as a writer.  I was not quite yet to the point of even believing that I could put words on a page.  I had spent my life reading and 'escaping into books', but writing had been pushed way back in the recesses of my mind.  It wasn't even a dream, just fragmented jigsaw puzzle pieces of ideas with the corners missing.

Yes, I do have a degree in Journalism and Agriculture and I took several news and magazine writing courses at UGA, but in my mind, that seemed like a world away from writing stories, fictional accounts of life.  Immediately after college I did some free-lance writing, but I seemed to gravitate toward public relations.   

Then as life usually does, my path veered off to another then another and I forgot my youthful dreams of a writing career.  Every so often, sometimes daily, Mama would mention my journalism degree and why didn't I pursue that career.  Sometimes I listened, mostly I didn't.

My step-daughter and her then year old son were living with us and I noticed she was keeping a journal.  As I encouraged her writing my brain suddenly woke up, like I had been zapped by a bolt of lightening.  I kicked the muddled emotional coma I had been in off like a winter blanket in an over heated room.  It was simple.  Something really important had been missing in my life.  I stumbled down the few steps to our closed-in carport where my computer was set up.  I sat down in front of the screen and touched the keyboard.

A story moved from my brain down through my fingers and words appeared on the screen.  OMG.  I did it.  I wrote a really bad opening to a potentially bad novel.  Bad might be a little harsh, but when I re-read some of my first efforts, I see multiple problems.  But I kept going.  I kept creating a story, building a life story for my characters, learning their quirks and their dreams.  They became my friends and soon as close as family.

I was writing.  I am a writer.  I could go to a writer's conference and actually admit to the world, I am a writer.  I decided to come out of the closet.

The first Blue Ridge Writer's Conference I attended, I took a deep breath and barged head-long into the opening night reception, carrying as much confidence that I could stuff in the little tote bag of goodies they handed out.  I was that proverbial mallard.  Cool and calm on top of the water while inside, underwater, I was furiously churning, kicking my way across the pond.  I took a deep breath and worked the room.  I met various authors, editors, conference speakers and other attendees, remembering to shake hands firmly and look them in the eye while smiling and laughing. I could at least act like a writer.

The next day at the actual conference, I walked in and knew I was in the right place.  I was not alone in my efforts to accomplish the impossible.  There was (and still is) security and insecurity in the fact that I am just one of millions of budding authors. 

And so I have a dream.  A dream that now, with several completed manuscripts under my belt, and with the help and encouragement of myriad friends and family, I am not afraid to tell y'all about.

I am a writer.

Hello Again!

clerical workers circa 1950

I'm back.  I didn't mean to stay away so long, but before I knew it, hours had turned into days and days into weeks.  I missed writing and I missed y'all too. 

I've started another part-time job and the first few weeks have totally consumed me.  It is a temp job at Georgia College in the Financial Aid department.  Strictly clerical work, Monday - Wednesday, 8 - 5. 


OMG!  My brain almost exploded the first day.  I don't know if I can explain how I heard the words the woman was saying, but it was like she was speaking in Greek or Turkish or Hungarian...yes, Hungarian was more like it.  The language of Financial Aid is spoken in garbled, lack of vowel words and phrases that made no sense to moi.

By the third day, the words were slightly less garbled and by the second week, I was actually accomplishing simple tasks they assigned me.

I'm still working Thursday - Saturday at my other part-time job over at Lake Oconee soooo my time is limited...but I will check in on a regular basis.  I promise. 

On my next post I want to share some tidbits I learned at the recent Blue Ridge Writer's Conference last weekend.  It was great to be back in Blue Ridge even though I was only there twenty four hours. 

Please stay tuned...

Abandoned Camellias

On my morning walk with Presley, I wind my way through a section I call the dark woods.  It's not really a woods, it's a densely wooded lot between two houses.  The tree shaded road is a welcome respite in hot Middle Georgia summers. 

Before I walk into the wooded area I pass this vacant lot.  Unknown vines, trees, weeds, and what have you grow over what I believe was the foundation of the former house.  There are derelict signs from a former life.  A junked car is behind this mound covered with it's own green blanket.  There is an old charcoal grill parked next to pre-fab concrete steps that must have led to a mobile home at one time.  The green grown hides litter and provides a safe haven for various wildlife.  I do not let Presley venture into the green mounds.

Years ago this was someones country home.  I wonder what happened to the family.  Did they sell their surrounding land, take the money, and move away?  It is a vacant lot, but it is green and lush with growth and not really an eye sore.  Imagine my delight on a chilly, but spring-like day last year I made an important discovery.  In what would have been the side yard, I noticed a bit of pink peeking out over a small hill of Georgia clay.  Here, in this abandoned, unloved acreage, I found these lovely camellias. 

Sheltered by towering pine trees, there are several camellia's blooming up a storm right now.  This particular one is called Pink Perfection, one of my favorites.

I clip these blooms and bring them home.  Yes, I am probably trespassing, but I feel it is a shame to waste these beautiful blooms.

 Camellias remind me of both of my grandmothers who grew magnificent specimens.  I don't have camellia's in my lake yard, but I claim these abandoned shrubs for my own.

Are You...Sick?

As small business owners, Sweetie and I like to support other local businesses when at all possible. That was easier when we lived in Blue Ridge.  In a small town there are not as many large chains.  Our favorite hamburger joint was a local place called Sue's Sweet Shop, but the sign on the building read 'Sue's Best Burger in Town'.  That was the truth.  Yummy.  Miss it.

In Baldwin County, we have a much larger community, but we still tend to seek out local businesses to spend our hard earned dollars.  I love going to downtown Milledgeville.  It is a hip, due to the colleges, but quaint, historic area where you can park and walk from shop to shop, restaurant to restaurant, bar to bar. (OK, we
don't really frequent the bar scene here, but we read about it, thanks in no part to that football guy)

Downtown Milledgeville

I recently found a new place to get my hair cut. Located in a really neat older building on West Hancock Street, it is a cool, hip place. I am usually the oldest person when I am there, but Amanda at ExtraordiNailry Salon & Spa always makes me feel welcome and maybe not so fuddy-duddy.

I don't quite feel like a complete fuddy-duddy...yet.  I think I am probably just at fud.  I wanted to use just the first two letters, f and u, but then my fuddy-duddiness took over and I didn't want y'all to think I was a fan of the letters f and u. 

The Odd Couple, 1968

                                                                      

Those letter, f and u, are part of one of the funniest scenes in the movie The Odd Couple, starring my favorite actor of all time, Walter Matthau.  Playing Oscar Madison as only Matthau could, he yells at Felix, played by Jack Lemmon, about notes Felix had been leaving for him in the apartment.  For six weeks it seems Oscar thought Felix was ending his notes with the letters f and u, until he realized it was Felix Unger's initials... hysterical!

Imagine if you will, why my sweet and funny hair stylist stared at me in surprise when I mentioned a character on the TV show Law & Order, SUV.  I had been watching the episode on the salon's flat screen as she trimmed my hair.   Amanda and I had been discussing the episode as she worked on me.  I knew the outcome because I had seen it before.  It turned out that the mother of the brainy, but kinda geeky teenager was discovered in bed with her daughter's secret crush, a cute guy who was a really big jerk.  Amanda was shocked when I said, "that is really sick."

All right, I meant 'sick' as defined in Webster's New Collegiate Dictionary, copyright 1973, sick, definition 2. spiritually or morally unsound or corrupt, c. filled with disgust or chagrin.  Not 'sick' as found in the Urban Dictionary online, sick, definition, 1. crazy, cool, insane.  So I quickly added, "and I mean that in the strictest, old fashioned way." 

She looked at me and I felt my fud level ease over into fuddy.  She gently patted my shoulder and nodded, as if she understood.  Then she handed my glasses to me, helped me out of the chair, placed my cane in my hand, and draped my crocheted shawl around my shoulders.  I wobbled out.

P.S.  There is no cane or shawl and my new hair cut ROCKS!