Category Archives: Writers’ Workshop

2012 One Little Word: RENEW

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While hanging around my computer last weekend looking for something to do where it wouldn’t matter if I had a coughing fit, I met a new reader who introduced me to the One Little Word family — thanks, Merrick — and I have chosen RENEW for my 2012 word. There’s a lot about my life to renew, and this is the year to do it.

One of my goals for the year is to learn how to photograph intentionally rather than haphazardly, and I’m looking forward to help from my friends Ken and Kelly as well as darling husband on this path to renew my love of photography. I’m open to suggestions, if you want to chime in.

Since one of the rules of engagement if you really want to change something is to make a stand in public, I’m going to share with you the reason why I need help with photography. I have an eye, but no craft. These photos are proof of that.

I tried tomatoes.

I love my amaryllis blooming in the window by the Christmas tree. Could I get an artful photo? Not so much.

When I went to make the coffee later in the day, I saw the amaryllis with the light from the window shining through the petals and the green stem of the next one to bloom sticking its sturdy stalk up in the air. It was so beautiful that I thought I would try again. This one’s not bad, but I have no idea how I made this happen other than just catching the light at the right time of day.

These aren’t bad either, but they don’t tell the stories that go with them. They seem static to me, and the magnolia blossom’s not actually in focus.

Ali and Merrick both scrapbook their way through the One Little Word challenge. I’m probably not going to do that, although I do have masses of scrapbooking stuff in my closet. I am going to choose some renewable resources that lie dormant in me and blog about them throughout the year. Just writing this down has made me feel better today and I hope it’s stirred up some achievable goals for 2012 for you. I’d love to hear about them and please, don’t be afraid to comment on my photography. I can take constructive criticism… if it’s delivered with love. Just remember I’m still sick. 🙂

Writer’s Workshop: 2011 in Review

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I have enjoyed being a part of the Mama Kat community in 2011, and for her final link-up this year, I’m writing about number 1. No, not that number 1. THIS Number 1.

1.) This year in blog posts…choose a favorite post from each month of 2011 and share.

January

My favorite post from January is one that I didn’t write; my sister-in-law wrote about wearing a tiara all day in public on her December 26 birthday. She’s a very good writer and I encourage you to take a look at her post once again. Thank you, Suzanne!

February

I love to read, and when I find a book that transports me or energizes me, I am quick to encourage others to read it too. Jan Karon’s romantic picture of a lengthy stay at a country inn encouraged me to book what turned out to be a dream vacation at Sissinghurst Castle Farmhouse.

March

In March, I wrote a post about the opera Carmen that I never published. I don’t know why; maybe I thought it was too personal and no one really cared about opera. Or maybe I saw Carmen in 3D so late that very few people would get a chance to see it. Whatever. I decided to post it anyway because I thought the whole process was  interesting and the Blue Ray disc is now available on Amazon. If you are an opera buff or would like to try to be, I recommend that you keep your eyes peeled for Madama Butterfly in 3D at the local theater near you that streams the Met broadcasts live. Madama Butterfly 3D will be released in movie theaters in 2012.

April

Apparently April was a busy Linky month for me, since three of my top posts were linked up to Vanderbilt Wife or Mama’s Losin’ It.

Why I Still Watch American Idol was a fun exercise in seeing who would comment. After watching the whole season, I think the Randy/Steven/Jennifer panel was very successful and I plan to watch it again in 2012. But I’m confused. I was watching all the X-Factor commercials (but not the actual show) and and couldn’t help notice the hugging at the end of the shows. Did Simon get nice on the new show?

If My Mom Were a Blogger and A Spring Journey were part of Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop and got a lot of traffic. Maybe you’d like to look at them again…

May

In celebration of the upcoming Father’s Day, I blogged about my up-and-down relationship with my dad. He wasn’t always easy to live with, but I miss him every day. This post was also linked up at Mama Kat and I thank you for reading it!

June

Finally, the teachers let the monkeys out and the administrators let the beleaguered teachers out. I was ready for some “teachers’ summer vacation” and some real vacation when I wrote The Tyranny of the Jean.

July

When we got back from vacation, I wrote about some backlogged experiences, including reading almost the entire Armistead Maupin body of work. I truly felt as though I had been living under a rock when many — and I mean a lot! — of my friends were astounded that I had never read his books.

August

In the midst of all the hubbub of the last days of school and beginning an exciting vacation in England, my mother passed away in June. We held her memorial service in August when all of the family could gather together and I blogged about her here.

September

I read at least two fabulous books in September and blogged about them here. Each has its own reason for reading it; are you intrigued?

October

In October I signed on to a 31 Days Challenge with The Nesting Place and wrote almost every day. I decided to do a travelogue of trips I have taken, but rarely got past our 2011 summer trip to Southeast England. My post about Vita Sackville-West’s ancestral home, Knole, got the most hits, but I would also like to share with you the glorious post written by my friend Michele about her trip to Ireland. Thank you, Michele. We were also blessed by a post from another dear friend, who took the time to write about her trip to Italy. Thank you, Kathy.

November

In November, I hit the jackpot again with friends from Mama Kat’s coming by to visit. My eight line post with photos was popular, as was my story about going to Burger Chef for our family night out. Given the bundle that I just spent for a fantastic family dinner in downtown Chicago, it makes me wonder which occasion meant more — or is it fair to make such comparisons?

December

I got all inspired by a catalog I received, and as I looked at the pages, I started writing blog posts in my head. Sick, right? It was actually fun and instead of being a bunch of posts about my boring life, it turned into 31 Days of essays about “things” and how they impact us. My huge hitter was the first day on December 1, but over the month of December I have continued to have many hits per day on most of the posts. Most popular, however, were the posts about the Radio City Rockettes and about the White House Christmas decorations. People seemed really interested in the fact that the Rockettes wear microphones in their tap shoes — I still get search engine hits on that every day!

My most frequently read post continues to be my book review of Frances Mayes’s Under the Tuscan Sun, which I wrote in June 2010, but got the most hits again in 2011. People also often read my 2011 Book List, which I am currently updating for 2011, but will link up anyway.

I want to give a big THANK YOU to Mama Kat. Without her Writer’s Workshop platform, a lot of my readers would never have found me. That being said, I really wish more of you would sign up for notifications or “like” me on Facebook. Just sayin’ — it’s all about the love in blogland. I look forward to seeing you again in a new year — who woulda thunk it would ever get to be 2012?

Writing Workshop: Dearly Beloved Poopsie

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Dear Poopsie,

I admit it. I was a latecomer to the Koolaid. I jumped at the chance to move from a stupid phone to a smart phone, my cute little Palm Pre. I loaded it up with the communication tools that I had previously lacked and thought I was making good choices.

Image via cottoncandycukcakexoxo.wordpress.com

I bought my Pre a cute little hot pink coat and accessories to match. I treated it well and most of the time, Pre was a good partner for me.

You were patient with me, and that’s one of the reasons I love you. Just like a mother with a child or a teacher with a student, you let me make my own mistakes and bear the consequences so that I would grow. You watched with a benevolent grin as I replaced the Palm Pre three times when the case cracked at its most vulnerable points. Poopsie, you didn’t even flinch when I paid for a new battery because even the battery had to be replaced before the two-year contract was finished. People say that actions speak louder than words, and Poopsie, your actions showed your evergreen love for me. You knew I’d come to my senses.

Image via centralwvusbc.com

You loved me from afar, safe in your orchard, while I struggled to make myself worthy of your love. But Poopsie, when it finally happened, it was a marriage made in heaven. From the first minute that I walked into the Verizon store, I knew we were meant for each other. I know you were grieving when I challenged your constancy by trying out those funny Droid phones. Sometimes a girl’s just gotta put her sweetheart in his place, after all. I’m sure that deep down inside, you were sure of my love. You knew I was just playing with you.

We’ve had a wonderful partnership. You work in my basement and you worked in Europe whenever there was available Wi-Fi. (Okay, that’s a little problem that I can’t get service in Europe. You should talk to somebody about that.) Truly, I love you. I don’t have to access my personal email on my school computer and I can get Facebook whenever I want to.

Image via buzzle.com

I love our games nights when we snuggle and play Scrabble and do crossword puzzles together. You are the phone of my dreams.

Yet, at only six months later, it worries me a little that a new guy is hanging around. I’ve been totally true to you and have praised you to everyone who will listen. I know myself, though, and I’m easily influenced by a newer model. It’s hard to believe that I could have a better partner than you, but I think there’s a reason why maxims exist.

You’ve always been honest with me. Is it true what they say about the iPad? Is bigger actually better?

Love and kisses,

Jennie

This post is linked up to Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. Stop by and give these fabulous writers some comment love!

Image via http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/

Writers’ Workshop: My Favorite Restaurant

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I know it’s hard to believe, but my favorite restaurant while growing up was Burger Chef.

Image via fortunecity.com

My dad was a teacher (one of those corrupt union-card-waving, pension-grabbing, non-Social Security-receiving evil citizens who has ruined the American economy with their greed). Twice a month my dad got paid, and we went grocery shopping and had a romantic family dinner. At Burger Chef.

Despite my current frustration with the anti-teacher rhetoric — really, do you want me to take another job and let YOU take care of your fourteen-year-old monster for eight hours a day?– I respected my dad’s job. In fact, I wanted to be just like him, and most days, I try to be as good of a teacher as he was.

There was something special about not having to cook on payday Fridays. I know my mom enjoyed it and so did we. The succulent grease of the hamburger in the buttery bun was intoxicating, and the crispy French fries hot from the deep-fryer practically made my knees give way. It was a far cry from the frozen or canned peas and green beans out of our stash from the luxurious garden-fresh summer months. Every chicken we ate in the winter I had known personally. Burger Chef was a release from the drudgery of trying to feed five hungry mouths on a salary that wasn’t enough to comfortably maintain our household. I didn’t really understand how poor we were in monetary terms until I become an adult.

Image credit: Got My Reservations

Yet, we didn’t feel poor. My brothers and I shared a warm and rich family structure that allows us now as adults to remain good friends. I don’t even know if they remember Burger Chef Fridays, but for me, the foray into the world of fast food on occasion is a cherished memory of family fun.

This post is linked up to Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. Take a little trip over there to read a few more stories, and don’t forget to give some comment love while you’re there!

Writer’s Workshop: The Edge of Reason

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This post is linked up to Mama Kat’s World Famous Writer’s Workshop. Today’s prompt is to write a post in just eight lines.

Television is the edge of reason

Image via Got My Reservations

I can’t live without it and I can’t live with it

Image via sabotagetimes.com

Fake reality and realistic families

Image via sabotagetimes.com

Decorating lust and real estate wish lists

Image via howstuffworks.com

My best friend my DVR

Image via nimblogthing.blogspot.com

I love that I can fast forward through commercials

Image via thechrismack.com

Tired of gratuitous swearing and violence

Image via Got My Reservations

I might be turning into my father.

An Apology to My Father

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My father was an extraordinary man. Some of his behaviors were corrosive to our family relationships, but in some of his eccentricities he turned out to just be ahead of his time.

He was punching holes in gourds and tin cans to make lanterns long before Martha Stewart thought of it. He was an organic gardener when no one was very concerned about putting chemicals on food. He canned and froze the summer bounty from our orchard and garden with abandon not only because it was good for us, but because it kept us fed on a teacher’s salary during the long winter months. He built and then taught himself to play all kinds of instruments when he became intrigued with them in museums and books; we had steel drums, lawnchair chimes, and the ever popular spoons. He even built a stand for his musical saw. You can imagine that there was quite a lot of embarrassment around our house when Dad pulled out his current project to show our visiting friends.

Dad become enthralled with genealogy early on — as the eldest child, I spent quite a bit of my childhood in courthouses and cemeteries looking up family information. I know how to use divining rods to find unmarked graves in burial plots, and before Mr. Internet was there to help us, I could find a will in an old courthouse record in minutes. I still love cemeteries, but he would have LOVED today’s internet genealogy programs and the instant access available on the Web!

This isn’t our family cemetery, but we had one that looked like this on the banks of the Ohio River by Cincinnati. Image via www2.vcdh.virginia.edu.

As Dad learned more and more about our various family connections, he began to create books of photos and anecdotes. This hobby grew and grew until family members no longer wanted to take more of his scrapbooks. “Enough was enough,” we said. As digital imaging become more available, we encouraged Dad to get his original collection scanned so that the old photos were captured for posterity. That was the point that he discovered that libraries often take genealogical records, and he sent his scrapbooks to pertinent libraries in various places across Ohio and Indiana. With computer access to library catalogs, Dad’s work and name was visible on internet files. He was thrilled because he had a new audience for his hobby. When I checked the catalog of the State Library of Ohio, Dad got 39 hits! He would be proud that his work lives on.

Image via library.ohio.gov

In Dad’s later years, he began to write reminiscences and what were essentially religious tracts and disseminate them to family and friends via electronic mail. Unfortunately, many of his family members didn’t read them, and some didn’t really appreciate them. He would ask what we thought of his work, and would be disappointed that we didn’t want to talk about his writing. I remember being annoyed about his frequent emails that didn’t actually have any family news in them. I regret it now.

Someone once told me that a person’s writing is like poop. Little kids are horrified when, after painstakingly teaching them how to use a toilet, we flush their “results” down the drain. As writing teachers, we do the same. Our students present us their gift of words, and we rip it to shreds, usually with a red pen. How cruel is that? And I did that to my dad by being critical of his precious writings.

Image via girlgonegrad.blogspot.com

Today I am that writer, the one that pretty regularly produces “results” for my family and friends to read. I am often disappointed to find that some of my loved ones don’t read my blog posts. I try not to take it personally; they are, after all, busy with their own lives. I had not really thought about how much that makes me like my father until I was back in my hometown for Mothers’ Day.  I can see why he continued to try to get us to value his work, and in hindsight, I understand how deeply we may have hurt him.

Image via Got My Reservations

My father was born on May 11, 1923, and died on June 6, 2009. Over the next weeks my family members will each remember a father, a grandfather, and a husband, a man who was sometimes difficult to love but ours all the same. If he were alive today, I would try to get him to stop talking about his own work and read mine :). In any event, I’m sorry, Dad, that I wasn’t as supportive of you as I should have been.

Mama’s Losin’ It

Today’s post is linked up to Mama Kat’s Writers’ Workshop. After reading and commenting on my post, stop by Mama Kat’s site and check out some other writers’ work!

A Spring Journey

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Today’s post is linked up to Mama Kat’s Writers’ Workshop. After reading and commenting on my post, stop by Mama Kat’s site and check out some other writers’ work!Mama’s Losin’ It

I like to walk with my camera; the simple act of carrying a camera puts a new perspective on the most ordinary parts of my day. In a post last year, I took an exercise walk at dusk and documented simple encounters. This set of photos, taken on a quick walk around my school building during my prep period, took on a life of its own as I began to compose the photo essay.

Sometimes life has mud puddles and we just have to walk through them to get where we’re going.

Or potholes that may even break us for a while.

There are disappointments…

and sometimes we have to prune our hopes so that we can grow.

Life can be pregnant with possibilities…

or we can be almost past our prime.

The early bird probably does catch more worms…

but late bloomers have resilience in the face of showier neighbors.

There are those who display magnificent color for a short time…

and those who are in it for the long haul, despite the conditions.

“And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.”

Gilbert K. Chesterton

Image via needthyme.blogspot.com

If My Mom Were A Blogger

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Today’s post is linked up to Mama Kat’s Writers’ Workshop. After reading and commenting on my post, stop by Mama Kat’s site and check out some other writers’ work!Mama’s Losin’ It


If my mom were a blogger she would be able to convince you that romance novels don’t need overt sex. She always preferred Regency novels that led the reader to the brink but never crossed over. Sorry, Mom, but I just couldn’t resist the photo.

Image via camillereads.com

If my mom were a blogger she would be writing about her beloved Ohio State and its sports teams — and also the Cincinnati Reds. She used to let me stay home from school on opening day to watch the game on television with her (but don’t tell anyone).

Image via nationalsportsbeat.com

If my mom were a blogger she would have had to fight with my dad to get computer time. Once he discovered the magic of the internet, there was no chance for her.

If my mom were a blogger, there would be a healthy competition with the blogs of her daughter and her granddaughter. She is so full of wisdom with a pinch of spice that there would probably be little chance for Jessie or me to win. 🙂 But she would be really proud of both of us (and she still is).

Image via vanderbiltwife.com

If my mom were a blogger, it would probably have led to a book. Before she got sick, she had everything it takes to publish. I wish that she had gotten around to writing the novel about our immigrant family that she always intended to write.

If my mom were a blogger, I would devour every single word she wrote as if it might be her last.

Dear Fellow Bloggers: Don’t Hate Me Because You’re Not Perfect

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I really want to read some new blogs. If you are a baby boomer who writes with humor about loving your adult children and senior moments and possible retirement and taking care of elderly parents, I want to follow you and share your posts here on my blog and on Facebook. Even more than those things, though, I REALLY want you to edit your blog posts before you publish them.

I know it’s a “thing” with me. I spend too many of my work days cringing at eighth grade writing and I know this makes me crazy when I find editing mistakes in adults’ writing. I also know, however, that you had an English teacher (just like me) who pleaded with you to use the correct spelling of to, too, and two, and begged you to use it is instead of it’s so that you didn’t confuse the contraction it’s with the possessive pronoun its. There’s a reason that the old biddy thought the correct usage of the English language was important. She was afraid that someday you might actually have to write something in your professional life, and lo and behold, she was right! Unfortunately, it seems that you were “absent” on the day(s) your teachers taught you about commonly confused words and agreement.

It’s not that I’m perfect; my darling husband has been known to correct me on my usage of like I said rather than as I said. I even sometimes use my object pronouns incorrectly and say with him and I. I’m really struggling with the “new rules” that allow us to use the plural pronoun they with a singular antecedent instead the accurate but sometimes unwieldy he or she.

Example: If anybody wants to succeed as a writer, they have to know the rules of the game. (This should be he or she rather than they, because anybody is singular.)

I really don’t want to be the grammar police in my online life, and since I’m not at school, I have a choice. I choose not to read blogs with consistent mistakes. I can handle a couple, but more mistakes than that and I’ve moved on to the next cute blog title.

Interestingly, I found a wonderful “grammar police” graphic that I was going to use here, but it was attached to a blog by a writer who said that she was too busy to edit her posts. Her commenters backed her up and basically told the grammar police types (that would be me) to get a life. I am unclear how this post will go over, but I’m pretty sure that my niece, who writes grammar lessons at Vanderbilt Wife, will get a chuckle from it.

Eye wood give my black patten shoos if sumhow yoo all cood go bak and relern thoze lessuns. For now, tho, I will haf too keep looking for a blog that duz not make me wunt to gouj my eyz out.

Header Image: Keattikorn / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Where Were You When the Earthquake Hit?

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Illinois. Is. The. Answer.

I didn’t actually feel this one.

I can just hear my West Coast relatives and friends screaming, “REALLY??? You think you had an earthquake? What was it, a measly 3.8?”

The answer is, “Yes, and it woke me up!”

Even my husband questions my claims that I have felt earthquakes here in our snug little suburban split level in northwest Chicagoland.

I must be like the Princess and the Pea when it comes to earthquakes, because I’m able to sleep through just about anything else — thunderstorms, sirens, barking dogs, no problem.

We have had two significant quakes in northern Illinois in the seven years that we have lived in this house. For the five seconds that the quake is recognizable, I am awakened from sleep not because the bed is shaking, but because my house is screaming. Literally — the torsion caused by the earthquake twists the structural innards of my house and it screams in pain. It’s kind of an indescribable sound, like a moan crossed with a whistle. And my husband sleeps right through it.

The good news (if you can call it good) is that there is proof of my Princessian sensitivity — and yes, I made up that word. My house has two major cracks in the drywall that appeared after these quakes. Some of my students also feel the quakes — is that proof of their sensitivity as well? I’m vindicated because CNN and the Illinois State Geological Survey support my claims.

Whew. I’m not crazy. Just sensitive. I feel a lot better now that I’ve gotten this off my chest, or at least I’m calm until the next time the earth moves under my feet.

This post is linked up Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop. Check out her site to see the work many creative writers, including my niece Jessie at Vanderbilt Wife, .

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