Yesterday

      Thank you for all your birthday wishes! I had a good birthday. Several cards came in the mail, I received several Happy Birthday phone calls, and I also got a rocket.
      That's right. One of my friends (who should know better) gave me a rocket! It is the Estes Snapshot rocket. Very cool. It actually takes a photo during flight. Well, actually as the parachute deploys. The recommended engine will take it to 500 feet, a bit less than my old rocket (the Blackhawk) that regularly reached a 1,000 or so. Or it did until it caught fire on the launching pad. The solid fuel engine blew out the side, and that was that. I'm looking forward to launching the Snapshot soon and seeing what kind of photos it takes.
      Another good friend gave me gift certificates to Golden Corral. Awesome. I love CC's salad and hot vegetable bars. And I got some unexpected money from my relatives, which I used at the bookstore to buy a Calvin and Hobbes collection (I miss those two) and a book by James Rollins.
      Michelle of Soul Patches sent me a lovely ecard, one of the nicest ones I've ever seen. And Trixie and Frenzied Feline made my birthday even more special with their nice posts on their blogs.
      Not birthday related but cool, I received a nice email from Carolyn Hart thanking me for my mini-review of her new mystery novel Death of the Party (See entry for July 27).
      I spent the rest of the day running around and eating out and having cake. So it was a very good day. Thank you one and all.

Tomorrow

      Tomorrow is my birthday so I'll probably won't blog. I have a full day of activities planned -- errands, eating out, cake, shopping, etc. Not that different that my normal day except for the cake. Y'all take care and I'll see you Sunday.

Little by little, bit by bit

      I wrote another column. The panic has passed. Until next time. You'd think I wouldn't worry like that. After all, at last count, I've written over 300 humor columns over the years. But every time I approach it with this ... dread isn't quite the word, but it's close. Somehow that spurs the weird part of me where my humor has built its funhouse, and so far, it's worked.
      Maybe it was all those years working for newspapers. That daily deadline had to be met. Didn't matter how I felt or if the words wouldn't come, I had to meet your deadline. My job depended on it. I think a certain amount of urgency encourages creativity. At least for me.
      I have to exploit this on books and plays. I set small deadlines. So many words or so many pages, depending on the type of work. Those little deadlines keep me in the race. Just thinking about the 500 or so pages required of a book makes me tired. But if I approach it as 500 words at a time, well, that I can do. The important thing for me is to never look at how much still needs to be done. I just look what I've written and at what I'm writing today.
      More disciplined writers probably don't have to play these games with themselves. Or maybe they do. Don't you think that every great thing has only been accomplished by doing one small thing at time? A note here, a brush stroke there, a paragraph today, and so on. And then at the end you look back and are astonished at all you've done. That's a great feeling.
      Good night!

Hopeless

      Yes, I'm standing on the edge of despair. Once again I need an idea for a humor column. I don't have one. Not the gleam of one.
      Oh, I tried to write something about wanton Betsy Ross and why she really sewed that flag, but it just didn't come together. There's a column there, but not yet.
      Then I called my friend Crystal thinking she would give me a funny subject. She, instead, abandoned me so that she could read a book by Anne Rice. ABANDONED! I wrote three plays with that woman! You'd think she'd be more loyal, but no, she wants to read about men with dental problems and the women who love them and then die horribly. Sigh.
      So now I'm forced to wander the streets of my imagination, lost among the statues of Pamela Anderson and Lucy Lawless. I'm a poor waif crying out, "Columns, columns, ER's kidneys for a column ..."

Death of the Party

      I just finished Carolyn Hart's new book Death of the Party, another entry in her Death on Demand series. Good reading! Recommended if you like a good whodunit.
      Carolyn Hart is probably the finest mystery author in Oklahoma and one of the finest in America. This time out, she sends our heroes (Max and Annie Darling) to an island resort to solve a murder that happened years before, but it's not long until a second murder turns up the heat. And then they're trapped on the island, never knowing who could die next. The suspects all have good motives, and the clues are subtle. I confess to not figuring this one out before the end, but when the murderer is finally revealed, it makes perfect sense.
      You can buy your copy here.

Personality test

      I hardly ever do these, mostly because I won't take the time, but this was just what it said it was.

The World's Shortest Personality Test

You are elegant, withdrawn, and brilliant. Your mind is a weapon, able to solve any puzzle. You are also great at poking holes in arguments and common beliefs. For you, comfort and calm are very important. You tend to thrive on your own and shrug off most affection. You prefer to protect your emotions and stay strong.

      Okay, I also liked the result.

Howdy again

      Hello! Sorry I haven't posted. I've been busy over the past few days. Not too busy to think of you, but frankly I didn't have much to say. It was all errands and filing and all the other details that make up a life. Well, my life.
      I've also been working on a new template for 51313 Harbor Street. I've not made one from scratch before, and the learning curve is steep. Don't expect it any time soon, but maybe someday.
      Since a couple of you have asked, Crystal is now safely back in Oklahoma and has just started her new job. Her son is having a good time connecting with family and friends. No word on or if she will resume blogging, but maybe someday.
      A couple of people asked -- in jest -- why I was friends with Erudite Redneck. Since I've also been asked that not in jest, I thought I would respond. It's basically a pity thing. I just feel sorry for him ... Actually, ER and I come from the same hometown. And while I think he has a better opinion of it than I do, it was a hard place to grow up. Back then, it didn't encourage college or learning or much of anything other than factory work, and if you chose to better yourself, there were plenty of people who would shoot you down. Sometimes literally. It was a dirt-poor place, and both ER and I were dirt-poor.
      But we were also both raised proud and with a determination to do better. ER likes to play up that country side of himself, but don't let him fool you. He has a razor-sharp mind and a string of accomplishments a mile-long. ER is a hometown boy who done good, and I'm proud of that. And since I'm fessing up, he makes me laugh. While I disagree with lots of his stances, I respect the intelligence he brings to them. And we also agree on lots of things. We're friends, and that's that. I hope that answers your questions on why we're friends. Oh, that the fact he's so pitifully homely. That's a large part of it, too ...

Blog twin

      51313 Harbor Street has a twin. It's a test blog that duplicates this one. I use it to test various things before adding them to this blog. I find the Blogger preview feature to be of limited use in debugging a template, and I don't want to take the chance of messing the template up and having rebuild it.
      In fact, your template can get messed up simply by a file save error. A smart thing to do is to copy your template into a text file on your computer. Then if anything goes wrong, you just open that text file and copy your template back to Blogger. You can never have two many back-ups.
      It was a busy day today. I did laundry, housework, paid bills, filed, errands, shopping, etc. I'm a bit hampered right now because I got an eye infection and have been forced to wear "bandage" soft contacts. They make my vision somewhat blurry, but they are helping my corneas to heal. So far it seems to be working. When I woke up this morning, my eyes didn't feel like they had sand in them.
      Thursday afternoon, I got a new cell phone. I'm afraid it's not cutting edge tech. I got the cheapest I could get and still be able to upgrade. My old phone was nearly five years old and large, and its battery wouldn't hold a charge anymore. I tried to buy a new battery only to discover that they didn't sell it anymore. In fact, they didn't even want phones as old as mine to give to charity. I liked my old phone, but now I have a new one. It's got lots of features that I won't use. Other than when I'm traveling, I rarely use my cell phone. Last month, out of my 250 anytime minutes, I used 11. I've used more these past few days as I've tested the phone, but I can't see that continuing. I'm just not a cell phone guy. Some people live on them. My boss regularly uses his for over 1,500 minutes a month and often goes over 2,000. Amazing.
      Well, it's late here, and if I want to get this posted before it's tomorrow, I'd better close now. Good night!

Updates

      New Quote of the Week, new sayings in the chaser, and a few links that needed correcting. I hope to add a few other things over the weekend. I just want Harbor Street to continue to grow and offer more. Talk to ya later.

Potter Compleo

      I finished Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince early this morning. It was a fast, enjoyable read. J.K. Rowling left a lot of things unanswered, and I'm curious to see how they will be resolved in the next book. I'm not sure if Harry is going to survive or not. I didn't have any doubt until this book, but the darker tone and higher body count and flat-out warfare makes me wonder if she's setting up Harry's last battle.
      I've been reading several debates about Harry Potter on various writing sites and SF & Fantasy sites. The debates are about why Harry Potter is so popular when other series, perhaps more deserving, are not. Certainly for any long-time fantasy reader, the themes and setting in Rowling's books are not new. Off the top of my head, I can think of three award-winning series that feature children learning how to be wizards or discovering they have powers (The Dark is Rising series by Susan Cooper, the Young Wizards series by Diane Duane, and the Chronicles of Prydain by Lloyd Alexander). In fact, that particular story goes a long way back.
      I don't know why none of those series -- ones I enjoyed and think are better written than the HP books -- captured the audience Potter has. But just because I've read better books doesn't mean Potter is bad or that the series should be resented for its success. There's plenty of room in the world for Harry Potter, and its success doesn't diminish other books or keep them from being published. In fact, HP has spawned numerous other series attempting to ride in its wake. Some of those series are frankly quite bad, but others are good and getting better. And it's made publishers aware that fantasy can reach a large audience. A few years back, the publishing industry had decided that fantasy was strictly a niche market. They feel differently now.
      As for the new book itself, no spoilers here. It's worth reading, it's fast, it's exciting. Go read it, and then we can talk about it.

Potter Interruptus

      I'm reading the new Harry Potter so I won't be posting tonight. I should finish it tomorrow. Talk among yourselves, but quietly.

Before the flood

      I have that restless writing feeling again. That itch in the back of my mind that complains if I do anything else. But when I sit down to write, the words don't flow. Yet. They're there. My subconscious has been busy. I see signs of it everywhere. Memories disturbed, imaginings misplaced, clutter here and there, scraps of dialogue fluttering to the floor. I have hints of what it's up to, but no clear signs. I'm impatient, but I've been through this process before. Soon it will let me know. It will spring something full-blown on me. All I have to do is be ready. And I think I am.
      Part of the reason I've been floundering is all this drama around me. I require a certain amount of boredom to write, not too much as that depresses me, but just enough that my muse decides to get off her lazy hiney and stir things up. My muse is a troublemaker; never let her fool you. Some people's muses are genteel creatures who sip their Earl Gray with white gloved pinkie in the air. Mine likes to fling mud into those muses' faces as she rumbles through on a Harley, kicking over the table with a black leather booted heel.
      She may have tats. I'm not sure. I try to not ask. I'm just waiting impatiently for her to blow up the dam and let the word flood begin.

Not quite

      I thought I was finished for the night, but I guess not. Something happened tonight, something bad. That seems to be way of it lately. It's not something I can share since it's not my secret. It belongs to other people who are trapped in a terrible dance of lies and deceit and God only knows where it will end.
      I gave my usual advice when asked -- that the truth is always best since it will eventually come out anyway, that there are trained professionals who can help, that life will go on, and that God really does care for us no matter what.
      All the usual truths, the advice that no one takes, the words we all nod our heads to while thinking, You don't understand.
      So now I'm realizing how outdated I am, how old fashioned. How utterly ... romantic.
      See, I still believe in love in first sight. I still believe that two people can heal their broken hearts. I still believe in babies and puppies and apple pie and vanilla ice cream. I know all the words to The Star Spangled Banner and sing them loudly at ballgames. I like church and the people who go there. I also like books and old movies and playing Scrabble and Uno.
      I told a girl a long time ago that I believed in people having space in marriages and that they should have their own lives. I only said it because I wanted to not scare her off, but I tell you now and will tell her if I get the chance that I didn't mean a word of it. I believe in best friends who love each other and would rather spend their time together than apart, and if you don't have that in your marriage, you should fix it or get out. And I believe you can fix it if you both want to.
      Why state this all of this when it is probably not much of a secret to anyone who reads this blog? Because I feel threatened lately. I feel pressed. I feel the world closing in. I watch people I love tear themselves apart, and I have to repeat to myself to what I believe and why this life is worth living.
      It's a promise to myself. It's a reminder to keep my head up. It's a binding of heaven and earth. It's a prayer.
      It's a prayer.
      There's a Zen story that goes something like this. A man was walking along a path near a cliff when a bear began to chase him. To escape, he started to climb down the cliff, but halfway down, he hear a growling below him, and it was a pack of wild dogs leaping up at him. He couldn't go up and he couldn't go down, and his hands were getting tired. Just then he saw, growing out of the cliff, a wild strawberry plant with one ripe berry. The berry was red, plump and beautiful. Letting go with one hand, he reached out and picked the berry and ate the berry. It was delicious.
      And he smiled.

Finished for tonight

      I have 14 items left from my list of 42. Not bad. I'll do three more tonight, and then I'm going to sit down and finish reading Three Hands of Scorpio, the last book written by the late Andre Norton. I've enjoyed it so far. It's vintage Norton: The Light versus The Dark, Old Ones and Wild Magic. The book finishes her literary career with her distinctive voice as strong and clear as it always was. I'm glad for that, but it will be sad to turn that final page and know that there will be no more from her. Godspeed, Andre, and many blessings.
      I hope you have a good day tomorrow. Night!

Doing The List

      Since last we spoke, I've finished four more items on The List. What is this strange fascination I have with lists? Well, it's about the only way I get things done. I have mentioned before that I have the attention span of a mosquito at a nudist colony; it's normal for me to fly around from this project to the next, just doing a bit here and a bit there. Thus nothing gets done or things get done slowly. And the longer a project takes, the more likely it is that it will get buried or I'll lose interest completely.
      Lists keep me on track. I just have to watch what I put on them. Obviously this list was too large for a weekend. Fortunately it's easy to pick out the urgent items -- already done -- and now I can pick and choose among the ones remaining. The ones left will be on tomorrow's list.
      I'll be back.

The List

      On my list of things to do this weekend, I had 42 items. I've done 16 so far. I'm hoping to do another 10 or so today. None of them are particularly hard; they just all take some time. Time is precious these days. Curious that I can remember days as a kid where a summer day lasted at least a year.
      While I'm not going to be bloggin' aplenty today, I will be dropping in for these notes to keep focused. I hope your day goes well. Catch ya a bit later.

Move along

      Nothing to see here tonight. Move along and go about your business. There will be something tomorrow. I hope. Good night!

Sci Fi Friday

      The ninth season of Stargate SG-1 premiered tonight. I'm still not sure if the new team is going to work. The loss of Richard Dean Anderson is going to be hard to recover from. Perhaps it's best to approach it as a new show and not compare with the old team. The Net chatter on it has mostly been good. I hope they find their footing as their season progresses. I've planned my Friday night around the show for a while. It would be a shame to lose that.
      Stargate Alantis was a let-down. I expected more from the buildup of last season. The show had a lot of new elements, and they didn't seem to mesh yet. Once again, I hope they will find their footing as the season progresses.
      I'm not a big fan of Battlestar Galactica. Its dark and twisted storyline has potential, but they just can't resist the soap opera aspects of the story. And frankly the whole Cylon-human baby thing is silly. But I watched the premiere, and it wasn't bad. I'll watch at least the next few episodes to see how it plays out.
      And that's my report on Sci Fi Friday.

Ramblin'

      Forgot to mention that the patron package was mailed Monday. The theater board met Sunday and worked willingly to get it folded and stuffed in envelopes. That was cool and made me feel better about the future of the board. I hope the patron drive is successful. We'll know over the next few weeks.
      Last night I worked on the poster for the first production. I came up with something that looks good, I think. I'll see what the director thinks of it tomorrow night at rehearsal. The first production is Hello, Dolly! I like doing graphic design work. It's fun to play with the various publishing programs and clipart I've collected over the years.
      I worked a bit tonight on the August Gazette. I'd like to have it ready, except for the Roundup, by the end of the month. It would be nice to meet a few deadlines.
      Our friend Crystal has finally moved back to Oklahoma. She's still not in her new place, but should be over the next few days. I hope she will start a new blog so that she can update all of you who keep asking about her.
      I've been focusing on my Weight Watchers again. It's easier in summer when I have that need for salads and fruits. And I've been slowly trying to increase the number of steps I take daily, careful to not strain my foot. So far, so good.
      My roomie, by the way, ran in a 5K run last Saturday and came in fourth in his age group. That's excellent, particularly when you consider he only started running the week before the race.
      Tomorrow I get paid again! Yay! I already have some checks ready to go to pay some bills. I'll write my account back down to nothing again, but hey, I'm paying them on time and am still on track on my Debt Reduction Plan. That's something.
      I've rambled all over the place tonight. Just my wandering thoughts. We'll finish with a joke:
      Two vacationing businessmen were talking on the beach at Miami. One said, "I'm here on insurance money I collected -- got $50,000 for fire damage."
      "Me, too," the second man said. "But I got $100,000 for flood damage."
      There was a long thoughtful pause, and then the first one asked, "Tell me, how do you start a flood?"
      And now, good night!

Tonight

      I shouldn't blog tonight. Because I'm tired tonight. Tired of the world. It happens sometimes. I look up and look around at these people, and I think, I don't belong here. This isn't my life.
      But it is, of course. I made each decision that brought me to this point. I can blame lots of other people if I want to. All those people who let me down, who betrayed me, who used me for their ends ... but I let them. And at night they're not here. It's just me. Me with all these small failures, all the large ones, me with this life that I never planned.
      I shouldn't be blogging this. These are the thoughts that I set aside in the day, the ones that I drown out with all my busyness. I don't look at them often because there's no point, nothing to be gained in doing so. I was raised that we didn't share these thoughts. We soldier on; that's what we do, God help us, we sing and we stay busy and we go through from day to day to day to day until we finally sleep. And we hold on to our beliefs and our hopes and we hide them even from ourselves because it's so hard to look at the lives we wanted. And dreamed of.
      It's a long world we're living in. I don't expect less. I'm not going to drop my burdens. I'm going to soldier on and I'm going to bury these thoughts and I will work because that's what we do. We go on. For whatever reason we go on until our eyes close for the last time.
      On Holly Lisle's blog, she classified this blog under the heading of Seeker. Maybe so. Maybe so. But I think we need a map, some chart showing us the way to Eden, a few signposts along to the way to home. To where we can rest and then rise up as if sorrow had never touched us.
      Until that far-off day, until the heavens split, until we finally fly ... until that time, we'll hold hands and cling together and look both ways crossing the street. Because we're in this together for better or worse, and no one gets out of this life untouched.
      That's what I'm thinking tonight as I sit in this darkened room and type in the pale light of my monitor. That and that it's nice and even comforting to think of you out there reading this, a lifeline of electronic bytes stretching across the night, a silvery web in the waning moon.