larry, moe, & curly

One afternoon recently as bookbabie went to retrieve a package from the front porch (a book order no doubt) she saw a bird fly out of a wreath on the door. Lo and behold, the little birdy had built a sturdy nest in the wreath and lain four tiny blue eggs in it all without detection, Mr. & Mrs. bookbabie are obviously either blind or totally unobservant (maybe both). Those are my winter wreaths as you can see, the nest is tucked securely behind a sparkling white snowflake. All four eggs hatched but one baby died and was tossed out by mom (and left dangling on a bit of wreath until Mr. bookbabie came home and gently removed it). I tried to get a photo of them when they were awake but they sleep an awful lot and I don’t want to bug them too much and stress out mom. I’ll post updated photos and reports once a week until they fly the coop!

a million little pictures

I met a really cool artist in my web wanderings tonight. Her blog is called Misty Mawn and one of her posts included a mosaic self-portrait that she made at this online mosaic generator. Needless to say, I spent my evening uploading, and then downloading photos, saving the ones I liked best. If you click on the portrait of my son Andy, you’ll get a larger view and you will be able to see that his image is made up of thousands of other tiny images. It’s really quite beautiful. Give it a try and have yourself a lovely, art filled weekend!

gone too soon

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We look at the empty eyes in a dead man’s photograph and we ask, why? The blame game has begun, the “if onlys” are ringing out on the airwaves, on web sites, and in living rooms across our country. But sadly and most importantly, those “if onlys” will haunt the hearts and minds of the teachers, administrators and students at Virginia Tech for many years to come. It is human nature to take the unimaginable and try to make some sense of it, to take a tragedy and try and break it down into digestible portions. We will hit the rewind button over and over again and say it is because we want to prevent another tragedy like this one, that we must learn from this incident so that the people who died did not die in vain. But I think what we really want to do is change the outcome of that terrible morning, and the reality is no amount of understanding, of well meaning “thoughts and prayers”, of misplaced blame is going to do that. Thirty-two people died because one troubled young man shot them—they did not die in vain—but they did die too soon. At the end of my first book the main character writes in a letter to her daughter;

While I do not pretend to understand the workings of the human mind, the failings of the human heart, or the forces that set one man against another, this much I do know. There is knowledge and there is ignorance, there is faith and there is despair, there is love and there is hatred, and in the end, it is simply a matter of choice, this is God’s gift to us.

I hope we can learn something from this tragedy that will keep it from happening again, I really do. But most of all I hope that the survivors and the families of those who died are able to let go of the “if onlys” before they become imprisoned by them, and that they choose to have faith in love—honoring and celebrating the lives of those who are gone too soon.

MSNBC has put up a nice page with photos and profiles of the victims of the Virginia Tech shooting.

food glorious food

When I tell people I have to eat totally gluten-free they look at me with such sympathy you’d have thought I just told them I had to have my right foot cut off! While I may not be able to pick up the phone and order a double cheese pepperoni pizza anymore (my arteries are breathing a huge sigh of relief), there are still plenty of not-so-great-for-you-but-tasty-carbs that I can chow down on. I recently tried the poppy seed bagels that Glutino makes and they are now a yummy addition to my morning breakfast menu. Last week at book club a friend gave me an article she had clipped from our local paper. The cake shop I’ve always ordered cakes from (for “normal” family members) has started making gluten-free desserts. One of their customers simply asked, and just like that, they are now in the GF baking business. This has taught me two things, 1) Speak up, people are often more than happy to oblige those of us with diet restrictions, and 2) I have such thoughtful friends, thanks for thinking of me and passing along the article Sandy!

california dreamin’

We’re back! We had a great time (except for the food poisoning). Here’s a few pics from the road…

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On the beach near my sister’s house in Carlsbad. Brrrr, it was colder in California that day than it was back in Michigan!

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My nephew Robert and my “niece”, Lola.

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We rented a cute little Nissan 350Z. Now I know why old people drive around in big boats (and I also know that I am now officially an old person, on the next road trip me and Mr. bookbabie plan to find the biggest, softest ride available!).

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Lovely Morro Bay…ahhh, peace, peace, peace.

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Highway 1 in CA. Don’t look down.

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I was hoping to run into Clint while in Carmel, didn’t happen:-( But I did manage to make one new friend while I was there.

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Wine Country, or should I say whine country as Mr. bookbabie tasted very little vino due to the lingering effects of some nasty lobster salad. Cheers!

THE bridge.

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A room with a view.

We lucked out and got bumped up to a sweet suite at the Argonaut in San Francisco at Fisherman’s Wharf. Great location and most excellent view of the bay and Alcatraz Island. If you have to feel lousy in San Francisco you might as well do it in a huge two room suite. Mr. bookbabie loved the nautical decorating so much that I’m worried that my walls here at home will soon be painted navy blue with gold stripes and covered with giant mirrors shaped like ship portholes. All in all it was a good trip, we visited with family and saw some beautiful scenery, but the truth is we couldn’t agree more with Dorothy, in the end…there’s just no place like home.

steinbeck country

Commenting on his hometown of Salinas in Monterey County, California, John Steinbeck once wrote, “I think I would like to write the story of this whole valley, of all the little towns and all the farms and ranches in the wilder hills.” Next week, Mr. bookbabie and I are hitting the open road, driving from San Diego to Napa, and along the way we will pass through “Steinbeck Country”. When I was growing up, my mother was an avid reader and we had a wall of books in our family room. It was like having a small library in our house and I used to stand in front of those shelves and pull out books, turning them over in my hands, looking at the covers and reading a sentence or two until I found one that peaked my interest. It was there that I first discovered John Steinbeck’s novels and I read Of Mice and Men, Cannery Row, and the Pulitzer Prize winner The Grapes of Wrath, in quick succession.

When John Steinbeck won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1962, The New York Times wrote a scathing editorial questioning the choice of Steinbeck for the prize and stating that there were more deserving writers. The so-called Eastern Literary Establishment often criticized his work because it sold, it appealed to the masses and because the masses were obviously simple-minded, his writing was considered by some to be simplistic and sentimental. I find it ironic that a writer was scorned because he wrote prose that was clean and well crafted, and because he wrote stories that connected deeply with his readers. Being as simple-minded as I am, I probably could not hold my own in a scholarly debate about the relevance of John Steinbeck’s work. My expertise simply comes from the viewpoint of a young girl first delving into the world of the great American novel and finding a writer who didn’t disappoint, a writer who’s work has endured because it eloquently speaks the language of the American landscape and touches the human heart. Now I ask you, what’s so bad about that?

spring daydreams

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Right now it’s thirty degrees outside and we have 40mph winds. This is a close-up of the Clematis, Margot Koster, from my garden last summer. I went a little nutty and planted clematis vines everywhere on our property. I have about 35 or 40 varieties. They tend to require a bit of TLC and not all of them are happy with where I’ve planted them. I look forward to the spring. Taking that first walk around our property to see who survived the winter. I love the sight of those tender green shoots pushing their way up through the cold brown earth, each one is like a little gift meant just for me.

empty arms

I once dreamt that I was holding my three-year-old son on my lap. It felt so good, to wrap my arms around his small body, to hear his sweet voice again. Suddenly, I heard my grown son, the same son, coming down the stairs. I tried to hold on to my baby boy but he squirmed out of my lap and ran to the bottom of the steps to greet his grown-up self. I was afraid in the dream, of what would happen when the past met the future. There was a loud popping noise and a flash of white light as they came together. And there, standing alone on the stairs was the little one, the one that was still mine, the one that still needed me. We looked at each other briefly and then I woke up…my arms empty.