The Gina Channel

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noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Sat, 06 Mar 2010 00:40:00 +0000

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P&P Word Cloud

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Fri, 05 Mar 2010 23:57:00 +0000

The other day my daughter was playing with word-clouding her manuscript and for fun she uploaded the entire book of Pride and Prejudice to see what it would look like. I thought it was fascinating, although I'm not sure any true conclusions can be drawn except the story seems well represented. When I word clouded my own WIP, it wasn't nearly as clear. Probably a good thing I'm reworking it, huh.

You can create a word cloud here.

Moving In and Moving On

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 05:46:00 +0000

The fire you see in my chiminea is turning old paper--contest evaluations, placement certificates, printouts of writing classes, and old manuscripts--into cinders that will nourish the garden and eventually become food on the table. This is a much better use for them than taking up room in the garage or moving them into the house. Last year when they were in storage I didn't miss them a bit. In fact, I forgot I had them which makes it quite obvious I don't need them. After taking a deep breath, I'm letting them go.

I'm also letting go of the writer I was who needed all that stuff.

That writer was a contest diva. Her contest entering culminated in the American Title, put on by Dorchester Publishing and Romantic Times Magazine. It was loads of fun. Loads of work. And as far as I can tell any name recognition from that had no impact on the sales of the book, which were rather average for an e-published book from a smallish press. Still, contests were a great way to get used to feedback from all sorts of people including those with brains and those without. I wouldn't burn that experience for anything, but I don't need to keep the souvenirs. I have what I need and it's time to move on.

As for the classes...

I'm a person who needs to know how to do something before I do it so taking classes about writing has always been tremendously appealing to me. Though most writing teachers will tell you what they are presenting won't work for everyone, taking all those classes on how to write ended up really mucking me up. It turns out that I'm not one of those writers who likes to fill out character interview sheets or chew on GMC (goal, motivation, conflict). Filling in little boxes makes me fussy. Some classes were confusing or contradicted other classes. Some were for other sorts of writers which wasn't easy to tell when I wasn't sure what kind of writer I was!

Certainly I picked up a lot of useful information. Sometimes I like knowing whether I'm writing a scene or a sequel (especially if I'm stuck). Knowing what act I'm in is tremendously useful for all sorts of reasons. But while these are good to know, they don't really make for writing a better story.

What makes for writing a better story is writing it. And then rewriting it.

In all the classes I took, three of them were tremendously valuable. That's because instead of telling me how to write a book, they helped me discover what kind of writer I am. They were given by Barbara (Samuel) O'Neal. Two voice classes and one on Reclaiming the Magic helped me understand how my writing and my stories and my way of doing them are unique to me. That helped explain why so much of the well-meant advice from the workshops and classes didn't help me. And it helped me see what my stories were missing, which was . . . um . . . me.

Putting the me into my stories isn't easy, but I'm learning. And I'm learning how to do that by writing them.

Burning all this old junk feels good. Knowing I don't need it feels even better. And roasting marshmallows over it is a bonus.

Out of Print

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Sat, 20 Feb 2010 17:07:00 +0000

The time has come the Walrus said (actually it was The Wild Rose Press that delivered the shocking news) . . . my rights have reverted and they will no longer be publishing The Raven's Revenge. It's no longer available digitally anywhere that I can see, although at Amazon (and TWRP) it can still be bought in print. Soon it will only be available used (or should I say pre-read).

It was a good ride and now it's over.

Although it might not. I'm hemming and hawing with myself over giving it a light revision and either finding a new publisher or figuring out how to get an ISBN and making it available through the Kindle.

If you've been putting off getting your copy, now is the time!

The Great Bagel Mystery

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Wed, 27 Jan 2010 02:12:00 +0000

Once up on a time the Tootz and I made bagels. Real ones that came out of the oven hot and delicious, and were glorious to eat, especially with cream cheese.

Because I now live in the Land of No Bagels, and have run out of the three-dozen plus bagels my brother and sister-in-law graciously brought when they visited, I've decided I must make them again, this time (out of necessity) in a death-defying, awe-inspiring Solo Performance.

So, I located my bagel recipe and read through it a couple of times. This is because I've learned the hard way that with cooking (and knitting) things I'm not expecting are bound to jump up and bite me in the ass if I don't do adequate prep which includes understanding the directions and making sure I have all the ingredients.

Fortunately, I understood the directions ... everything except for the numbers 10 8 7 X in the row that says ingredients which seem to have nothing to do with anything. (Or do they?)

I did, however, remember I had no idea what they meant last time either, but the Tootz did. So I called her.

And she has absolutely no idea this time.

Any ideas?

Bread

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Sat, 23 Jan 2010 04:53:00 +0000

This is the first time I've made bread without a machine in over twenty years. Or is it thirty. Possibly even thirty-five. Long enough, at any rate, to have forgotten just how long it is.

I used this recipe.

Meet Sylvester

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Tue, 12 Jan 2010 15:50:00 +0000

My alpha grandkitty contemplates . . .

1. I'd get a new catnip mouse every day

2. I could play with all the birdies outside

3. my food bowl would runneth over

4. there would be houseplants around here so I could eat them

5. this box would be ever so slightly bigger

Notes From the Garden

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 21:24:00 +0000

A rose . . .

is a rose . . .

is a cat.

Things I'm Looking Forward To

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Fri, 01 Jan 2010 02:00:00 +0000

2009 was a long hard year full of travails I did not share on this blog. I think what has kept me from blogging was not wanting to whinge and complain on the internet. It wasn't a bad year as much as it was a hard and difficult one: a year that built character. But now I'm looking forward to a new one where I can take the character I've built and do something with it.

In 2010, I wish to . . .

Sew. When we moved into our new house, my beloved White Rotary from 1931 came out of storage. This is a machine I bought for $5 in 1973 to start a small home sewing business which lasted for about a year before I got so bored I couldn't stand it. This machine only goes forward (to backtack you have to turn the fabric around), but it goes forward better than any machine ever made. I adore this machine. I oiled her on Tuesday and she runs like the wind again. I am looking forward to making curtains and napkins and pajama pants and all number of things in the coming year.

Write. I am going to finish the book I'm working on and start another, or maybe even two. They are all part of a series, and yes I'm going to write them whether I contract with an agent or sell the first one. That goes against conventional wisdom, but I've never been much for that stuff anyway. Writing is more than a business and I've been over-focused on that aspect for too long. I like writing best when I feel like I'm playing and pretending and discovering, so that is what I shall do.

Cook. I'm actually going to be making dinners around here on a regular basis. (I can hear jaws dropping all across cyberspace.) Since I'm not a kitchen multi-tasker, I'm going to be relying on my New Orange Pot quite a bit. There's a nice spot near the kitchen overlooking the garden where Teaman toils away. I plan to write while stews, soups, pot roasts, and even bread are cooking (or baking) in my pot. And they will taste wonderful.

Knit. Yes, all those plastic containers are full of yarn. All of them.

All that yarn is waiting to be knit into something. All of it.

I already played the I'm not allowed to buy yarn until I finish projects game and failed at it miserably. That year I bought more yarn than ever. What would really help me use the yarn I've bought is to find a way of knitting that doesn't stress my neck. Maybe I can develop better posture, or use different glasses so I don't have to hold the needles where I do. Maybe I just need to get up more often and remember to drop my shoulders (all the time). There are many lovely and warm pieces of clothing I'd like to make, and one or two that are still due from Christmas.

Enjoy the Garden with the Pooh. I just had a conversation with College Boy about the Pooh that sent us to Google where we read that fifteen to seventeen is the average life span for a cat. Since the Pooh is fifteen, that makes him geriatric. One would never know it by watching him take possession of his very own garden for the first time in his life. He is an inspiration to me. He demands to be let out in the morning so he can make his First Daily Inspection. He not only patrols to see if there have been Intruders, but he also likes to keep an eye on what the Teaman has been planting and uprooting and digging. I would like to be as diligent in my life as he is in his. And I appreciate the Pooh showing me how age and vocation have nothing to do with each other. I love watching him bask in the sunlight under one of our new fruit trees and I love when he shows me what the tall palm tree is really for.

Walk on the Beach. I love to walk and I love to work out story issues while I walk. In the coming year I plan on taking many writing walks in my new neighborhood, but I also plan on getting to the beach at least once every couple of weeks. The beaches here are very deserted and peaceful. Often it's just Teaman, the birds, and me. Some of my favorite moments from last year were spent on a picnic blanket sharing some grapes with a seagull I named Henrietta. In the coming year, I'd love to do the same with some of her friends and relations.

Drink Tea. For Christmas I got this beautiful pot and cup combination from my niece. It's the perfect size that I can finally brew single cups from actual leaves. I'm looking forward to working up in my Ivory Tower while having a spot of chamomile, or spearmint, or darjeeling, then adding the leaves to the compost. One of these days I might even grow and dry my own. Mmmm.

It's not like I don't already drink lots of tea. It's just that a person can't ever drink too much.

Stay in Touch. I do plan to blog more often. Truly. I won't make promises, because I'd like my participation here to be more organic--like I'm trying to achieve in the rest of my life--but I do plan to be more present here, and maybe even over there.

My wish for you is to have a marvelous New Year, for the promises of the Eve to manifest in all sorts of good times and creative achievement.

Good News

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 22:15:00 +0000

Ten days ago we got word The Bank approved our offer and we'd gone into escrow. We were on the road heading out of town taking the World Traveler back to college for the year, but still managed to celebrate that night with him, the sister-in-law, the brother-in-law and some nicely cooked tempura. Mmmmmm.

Last Thursday we had the place inspected and so far there have been no surprises. I say so far because the seller's agent neglected to have the water and gas turned on for us so we were unable to check a number of things, like the pipes and appliances. (Gina pauses a moment here to remind herself it isn't a perfect world.)

As you can see, we've got ourselves a mid-century split-level storybook house--although you can't see some of the storybook detailing because it's behind the tree which needs to be trimmed. It was built in 1966. To keep with my recent Beatles theme, that was the year John Lennon said: We're more popular than Jesus. It was also the year Revolver was released (on my birthday), and the boys played their last public concert at Candlestick Park in San Francisco.

It was a space-age atomic, Danish modern world, and I'm so pleased our house still has it's original parquet floors, light fixtures and even the original groovy Dishmaster unit (which oddly enough they are still making).

To put it into the chronology of my life, it was the year I graduated from Bellagio Road Elementary school. BigTea was already out of high school and going to UCLA, so his memories of this era are very different. Or, maybe I should say that's generally why I can remember the 60's better than he does. ;)

There's a bunch of 60's style I find totally ghastly and I had to get through it while considering ownership of this house. I despise things like Naugahyde and Keane "Big Eye" paintings. If I see another avocado colored appliance or highly-stylized daisy detailing it will be way too soon. But on reflection there are things besides the Beatles I do like, although they tend to come slightly later, circa the Summer of Love, and include tie-dye, Sergeant Pepper, and Peter Max. (I even have a copy of this poster--although the colors are all washed out.)

To help rehabilitate myself, I've been digging around the internet (and my memory) in search of boss and bitchin' bits from the era. For instance, I've generally hated the whole starburst thing, but when I saw this light fixture in one of the new bathrooms, it tickled my sense of kitch. Then, a friend of mine suggested I get a starburst clock for the living room and my cousin pointed me in the direction of a major american designer (whose clocks are still available it turns out). After clicking around a bit I found this. And I really like it.

In fact, it brings to mind something that happened in 1966 that changed the world forever. You know what I'm talking about. On September 8, the very first episode of Star Trek went on the air. And we have boldly gone ever since . . .

Buon Compleanno

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 04:30:00 +0000

Today is my dad's birthday and I'm using it as an excuse to post a blog I meant to put up several weeks ago. It's about food.

First, a little bit about my dad. He's enjoyed a career working with computers since they were made out of vacuum tubes, but what he really loves is cooking and--naturally--the eating that comes after. He has always been a much more inspired and enthusiastic cook than my mother ever was. In letters he sent to me and my brother after they separated, he would write about neighborhood news and how our pets were doing, capping with a paragraph or two about his latest yummy meal--often pasta.

Watching my dad cook is like seeing a scientist at work. He could likely explain the physics behind what makes something truly al dente. Each step of the process is carefully thought through and tested; needed adjustments are made.

Linquini with clam sauce is pretty much his signature meal. A few years ago when he went into the hospital to have his hip replaced, that's what we ate the night before. No surprise it's one of my favorite meals, too. For one thing, it's so easy even I can cook it. For another, I can use my orange pot.

My present to you, my faithful blog readers, on the occasion of my dad's 81st birthday is his recipe for . . .

Linguini with Clam Sauce

1/4 c. olive oil
Fry garlic (1 or 2 cloves--more if you really like it) and a whole chopped onion until translucent and slightly browned
Add chopped Italian parsley (no stems) and 2 6oz. cans clams and juice
Fresh or dried oregano or basil is good to add if you have it

Cook up linguini. When it has 1 minute to go, drain and add to sauce. Cook to al dente.

Serve with fresh grated Parmesan.

Altogether Now

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 16:09:00 +0000

Sunday, June 25, 1967, marked the first ever live worldwide satellite television broadcast. Coordinated out of BBC master control in London, Our World included performers from nineteen nations in separate segments originating from their countries. The two-and-half-hour event had the largest television audience ever up to that date: an estimated 400 million people around the globe in 31 countries, including the US.

England's segment featured The Beatles and was transmitted from Abbey Road studios at 8:54 p.m. GMT. I was--of course--watching as they performed a brand new song "All You Need Is Love," composed by John Lennon for the occasion.

Many familiar faces can be seen singing the chorus and helping to send this important message around the world.

In an altogether too fun spoof, the Rutles performed the song "Love Life" as part of the 1978 mockumentary, "All You Need is Cash," which is a must-see for any Beatles fan.

It's very fitting that the song "All You Need Is Love" will be among the first batch of downloadable content for the Beatles Rock Band. Proceeds will be donated to Doctors Without Borders.

---
* The satellites used were Intelsat I (Early Bird), Intelsat II and ATS-1.

** Which puts it at almost 2pm pacific on that Sunday afternoon.

Dear Sir or Madam,

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Wed, 09 Sep 2009 06:39:00 +0000

. . . will you read my book?

It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

It's the dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn't understand.
His son is working for the Daily Mail,
It's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

Paperback writer (paperback writer)

It's a thousand pages, give or take a few,
I'll be writing more in a week or two.
I can make it longer if you like the style,
I can change it round and I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

If you really like it you can have the rights,
It could make a million for you overnight.
If you must return it, you can send it here
But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer,
Paperback writer.

This is actually an example of the kind of query that drives good agents to drink. 1000 pages (that makes this sucker a quarter-million words)! Years to write? No personalization! Unsympathetic main character, and so on.

There is nothing here to make an agent or editor ask for more, except for one thing. If it had been a real query, agents and publishers would've been all over themselves to publish anything from one of the Fabs.

It's not like that for the rest of us.

The rest of us have to write a kick-ass query to get a request. We have to reduce an entire book to a few good sentences that include a great hook. And while we wrote our opus (of considerably less than a quarter-million words), that doesn't mean we can write a cohesive paragraph of maybe two-hundred words that garner interest.

Agents know this. To be helpful, many blogging agents post real queries with comments. As useful as this should be, it isn't always--at least not to me. What grabs their attention may not grab mine. The voice they hear might not resonate for me. The conflict of the story sounds intriguing to them and contrived to me. This worries me and has made me wonder if I'm writing the wrong stories, in the wrong genre, or if my writing efforts, hopes, and dreams aren't pure fantasy.

But lately, I'm thinking it's more than a difference in perception, understanding, and interest, and has nothing to do with the marketplace. I'm realizing it's our subjective tastes at play. To take that one step further, because they find something exciting--that to me is a real snooze or eye-roller, it could mean the agent wouldn't be the right agent for me and my work, and that's all there is to it.

Yeah, that's mostly a duh. But sometimes it's the obvious things that trip us up in life--and in art.

Does that mean I won't query these agents when I'm ready? It might. There are other factors at play, always, like whether they have clients whose books I enjoy. Whether I like their blogs and find them helpful. And whether they've done some good deal-making recently.

For those of us querying, it's important to remember that if you've written a good and complete query that makes sense (go read Query Shark to see many that don't), researched the agent and you got a form reject anyway, it's quite possibly they don't represent the kind of stories you write, or they just didn't want to read the book for some personal reason. And that's okay.

After all, not everyone is a fan of the Beatles. Unbelievable, but true.

Is There Anybody Going to Listen to My Story?

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Thu, 03 Sep 2009 04:09:00 +0000

Just a quickie post to let you know I just discovered that if you have a Kindle 2 or DX and a copy of The Raven's Revenge you should be able to listen to it because it is . . .

I have a first generation Kindle (named Ringo*), which doesn't do that. I'm expecting it sounds as weird as my friend, Vicki. If any of you happen to listen to it using that option, let me know what you think?

---
* From AHDN:
Grandfather: Would you look at him? Sittin' there with his hooter scrapin' away at that book!
Ringo: Well, what's the matter with that?
Grandfather: Have you no natural resources of your own? Have they even robbed you of that?
Ringo: You can learn from books!
Grandfather: You can, can you? Pahh! Sheeps' heads! You could learn more by gettin' out there and living!
Ringo: Out where?
Grandfather: Any old where! But not our little Richard. Oh, no. When you're not thumpin' them pagan skins you're tormenting your eyes with that rubbish.
Ringo: Books are good.
Grandfather: *Parading's* better.
Ringo: Parading?
Grandfather: [nods eagerly] Parading the streets! Trailing your coat! Bowling along! LIVING!
Ringo: Well, I am living.
Grandfather: You? Living? When was the last time you gave a girl a pink-edged daisy? When did you last embarrass a sheila with your cool, appraising stare?
Ringo: You're a bit old for that sort of chat, aren't you?
Grandfather: Well at least I've got a backlog of memories! All you've got is - THAT BOOK!

Do You Want to Know a Secret?

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 04:09:00 +0000

It's probably no surprise to anyone that I was, and will always be, a HUGE Beatles fan. I remember the magic of the first time they were on the Ed Sullivan show, and I was fortunate to see them LIVE at the Hollywood Bowl in 1965--and yes, of course, I was one of those (pre) teeny-boppers who spent the whole time SCREAMING.*

So, earlier this year, when I heard the Beatles Rock Band was coming out on 9-09-09, I did what any aging Beatles fan would do . . . I jumped up and down four times, screamed, and then grilled my kids about Rock Band. It's not like I'd never heard of Guitar Hero, or seen it played, but it had never enticed me. For someone who was used to playing actual notes on an actual instrument, it seemed like a rather silly thing to do. Besides, I already knew that if I was going to synchronize myself with notes on a monitor, I would do it while DDRing.

But still . . .

As time went forward, and I saw some of the animations (and the hype), I was drawn toward the inevitable conclusion that I'd have to be assimilated. What longtime Beatles fan could resist the opportunity to twist and shout with John, strum and coo with Paul and George, and toss their hair with Ringo?

So here's the secret: tomorrow my Guitar Hero World Tour Band Kit arrives.** I'm going to plug it in to the World Traveler's Wii while he's still home for the summer and get the hang of it for the week before my special Beatles RB software arrives. And then . . .

I'm gonna be the walrus.
(You are the eggman.)

--
* For the record, I was screaming "George." I wouldn't be a John girl for a few more years.

** According to Tech Support (the Tootz's SO) the GHWT instruments are better and they work just fine with the Beatles RB unless you need to spend an extra zillion dollars to get the limited edition Gretsch or Rickenbacker guitars, and Beatles logo drums. Which I don't.

Lost in Storage

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Sat, 29 Aug 2009 06:31:00 +0000

Almost a year ago we packed up our stuff to move to the Central Coast. We thought we were being realistic in anticipating a three-to-six month period before we bought a house. But it is now almost eleven months and we are still in our temporary apartment.

For those of you who are keeping score, today we hit the 166 day mark on our offer for the short-sale house (our fourth attempt to buy a home). Suffice it to say a short sale takes a very long time. If this one doesn't pan out we won't be trying it again. But that's a rant for another day.

The purpose of this blog entry is to talk about storage. Since we had to fit our 3 + 2 (and loft) possessions into a one-bedroom apartment, we had some choices to make. We rented a 10 by 15 foot storage unit where we could put those things we didn't think we'd need immediately. Like my books. Like the sewing machine(s) and jewelry equipment and other things-to-use-when-making-things. Like our collection of artwork that's big enough to fill several galleries. Like the china I've used once. Most of our furniture. And my orange pot.

Since I am a rare enough cook, the thought of packing away my pot for three or so months didn't trouble me. But I hadn't considered that living in a new town with no friends and a kitchen would put me in a position of actually wanting to cook so that was an item I missed almost immediately. You see, I am a one-pot cook and that is my one pot. Alas, even though BigTea and I spent hours digging through storage, we were unable to find it. I guiltily admit that yes, even though it is a Le Creuset and they cost a bundle, I bought a new one. I will pass along the old one to the World Traveler when I finally find it.

Another item I thought we could manage without was our ball-winder. Most people don't even know what that is, but if you are a passionate knitter it's an item you need to make yarn spools out of skeins. Because we had so much yarn already wound, it didn't seem like we'd need the winder for a while. And we both knew when we moved into the one-bedroom apartment we'd have to make sacrifices. But ten months and lots of new yarn later, BigTea and I are now winding our yarn by hand. The ball winder has evaded detection, likely packed inside something (my orange pot?) to keep it safe.

We've learned to joke about this. The reply to any question that begins "Have you seen . . . " has become "It's in storage."

"Have you seen the Pooh?"
"He's in storage."
"What about my lunch?"
"It's in storage too."

So maybe it isn't the funniest stuff you've ever heard, but we laugh because it helps to assuage the pain of waiting, waiting, waiting, and being without, without, without all those things we have collected because we actually NEED and WANT and USE them . . .

like the . . .

electric hair trimmer
stereo
Mac OSX disks
rest of my TBR pile
notecards
chest of fabrics
Beatles CDs
Playstation and DDR mat
and the friendly stuffed Gorilla who is sitting guard.

"I am in no pain. Waiting so long has made me senseless."
-BigTea

This Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Sun, 16 Aug 2009 17:58:00 +0000

It might surprise you (if there still is a you) that this blog isn't dead. Yes, I know this is the first new post in two months, but during this time, there's been some behind-the-scenes restructuring going on.

Bit by bit, I've been importing entries from all my old blogs so that I can keep things together. I hadn't realized until recently how much blogging I've been doing since I started at the very end of 2003. Right now the published count is 501, and I've probably got at least that many still to deal with, but there could be considerably more. After the Great Blog Fiasco of '06, I made my two LiveJournal blogs private and downloaded this blog into a single HTML file before deleting all the entries (should have just unpublished them--now I know). So, I have entries everywhere. What a mess!

Why am I even bothering?

I think it's the archivist in me. And because from time to time I go back to entries to try to figure out what I was doing when or get other bits of information that has been misfiled in my brain, because ultimately blogs do act as online diaries and I'd like that all in one spot. (After this is my photo library which is a total mess. We won't even talk about that right now.)

Unfortunately, I'm losing your old comments when I bring in posts. I'm sorry for that because your comments really are part of the entries. I don't think there's any way I can get around that though.

Meanwhile, if you do happen to stop by and read this, could you put a note in the comments so I can tell if there is anyone at all who is still reading my blog?

Ira Glass on Storytelling

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 00:33:00 +0000

Has anyone not seen this?

Ira Glass is the executive producer/host of the long-running NPR show "This American Life" which hails out of Chicago. Episodes of the show are available as podcasts through iTunes or can be streamed (or purchased) of the TAL website.

Each hour-long program is journalistic storytelling at its very best. One of my favorite stories is from 2001. It's the third act in a show called Them. It's about a black sailor during WW2 who washes onshore in Newfoundland and nursed back to life by a group of white nurses who have never seen a black man. They thought he was covered in oil and tried to scrub him clean. It is a story so touching that I sat in my car for fifteen minutes to hear the whole thing even though I was late for work that day.

Do yourself a favor and watch Ira talk about storytelling. If you've seen this, watch it again.

Dear Mortgage Company (Again),

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 17:33:00 +0000

When I first wrote you last March, I said I was giving up on you because I had found another house. So, we made a bid on this new house and you know what? It turned out that you're the mortgage company on this house too. And now, here we are almost three months later and you have not decided if you would approve this short-sale. Not only that, but even though our bid has been on your desk, you have scheduled the house to be auctioned at the courthouse in Santa Barbara later this month.

If anyone is wondering how we got to this financial mess as a country I have many answers. But take this as a prime example. We are a country full of bureaucracy run amok. It's expensive for a bank to foreclose on a house. Not only are there court costs and administrative fees, but a bank has to recognize that they are taking a loss on the property. But putting it off like this does not change anything. In fact, adding in the costs of a foreclosure and the fact that the market is still declining, will only serve to make the loss greater.

The other side of bureaucracy run amok is that it's more than likely the right hand (the short-sale department) and the left hand (the foreclosure department) are even aware what the other is doing. And that's an expensive way to do business.

All I can say is aren't we glad we are spending a whole lotta money to bail out the banks?

Sincerely,
Gina
Who Still Wants a House and Would Buy One
if They Would Just Let Her

The Ferdinand Complex

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Mon, 25 May 2009 01:00:00 +0000

When my brother and I were little, my mother bought The Story of Ferdinand, by Munro Leaf, likely as an outgrowth of her anti-war, Women Strike for Peace convictions. It's the story of a young bill who preferred to sit under a cork tree and smell the flowers instead of head-butt with the other bulls destined for the bull fights. But all that changes when Ferdinand accidentally sits on a bee and they see how fierce he can be. Taken to the ring in Madrid, instead of fighting he sits and smells the flowers much to everyone's disappointment . . . except his, of course, because he is brought back to the cork tree where he belongs.

I loved the story; I loved the illustrations by Robert Lawson. Like all children, I needed the message that we should be true to ourselves and our own nature.

I bought the book when my children were little and read it to them over and over again--enjoying it as much as ever. It never occurred to me what a long lasting effect this story had on my life until recently.

I met a bull at the La Purisima Mission (and State Historic park).

I remember the first moment I saw him, I was entranced by his gorgeous horns. We flirted. I called him Bully.

As the months went by, I would visit him at the Mission. He always seemed to take notice of me, and I would always stop by to admire his . . . horns.

But one day BigTea called while he was on one of his expeditions in the hills around the Mission. He had stopped by to say hello to Bully for me and he had noticed something he thought might upset me: Bully was really a steer. (And yes, BigTea had to explain what that meant.)

Well, it didn't make a difference to me, of course. Bully was beautiful with or without . . . his . . . you-know-whatsis.

Just this last Christmas, I bought The Story of Ferdinand for my granddaughter when I discovered she didn't have it. Not long after at a family dinner, BigTea and I were talking about our beautiful Mission, and I brought up my bull. My daughter-in-law looked at me wisely and summed it up in one word: Ferdinand.

Yes, I do have a Ferdinand complex. I have fallen in love with a bull (it doesn't matter what he doesn't have, he'll always be a bull to me). More importantly, I fell in love with and married a man who would much rather grow flowers (so I can smell them)* than participate in bull fights in Madrid.

Thank goodness for my mother's taste in children's books.

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* while known more for their beauty than their fragrance, irises do have a light floral aroma--at least this one does!

The Latest Adventure

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Thu, 14 May 2009 22:10:00 +0000

This morning after my chiro appointment, BigTea decided he wanted to track down some nearby hot springs. So, we packed our snacks and hit the road, driving through the gorgeous spring weather and hills of tan and green scattered with moos and horsies enjoying the morning sunshine. After driving around a bit, we found the way past the freeway and the entrance to Gaviota State Park, where the Las Cruces Hot Springs are a .7 mile trek up a hill.

I did not make the hike. I hung back, planning to catch up on Middlemarch (I'm almost hopelessly behind on the book club), but instead discovered that I could actually get my email on my Kindle (and Tweet) and it was all over for me, especially since it didn't take BigTea long to hike the trail--exposing himself to poison oak along the way--take the photo and come back. We will return with swim suits and towels soon.

After that we cruised up the 101 between Highways 1 and 246--a section that we never drive because we either approach our new town from below or above, and wouldn't you know it? This part of highway was holding out on me. Something I'd been looking for since we moved was right there: a local organic produce stand. Classic Organic, complete with peace-sign integrated logo, was just what I've been looking for. We bought some beautiful red lettuce, Nojoqui sweet onions, and kale. The stand was empty--except for Shadow the cat--and we paid by dropping our money into a box and writing down what we purchased on the register. I'm going back for beets as soon as I figure out how to make borscht.

After that we went up toward Nojoqui Falls. Although we didn't make the hike up to the water, we found a lovely spot to eat our snack under the canopy of oak trees. Lizards basked on rocks nearby. Squirrels eyed our picnic basket. The scent of California sagebrush intoxicated me, and I renewed my vows to this state, wondering how I could have ever thought of moving somewhere else. Yes, California, I will visit other places, other climes, but I will always come back to you!

Chicken Soup for the Nostalgic

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Wed, 13 May 2009 15:42:00 +0000

One thing about living in Lompoc that I've discovered (to my astonishment) . . . there is no deli here. Most of you might not be at all surprised. But me--who pretty much grew up in L.A.--it never occurred to me that people could exist without life's basics: homemade chicken soup, bagels, blintzes, lox, latkes, borsht, pastrami on rye, and so on.

I was so oblivious I didn't even notice until Passover was upon us. Oy.

That day I bought frozen blintzes, Thomas's bagels, and Kraft lox flavored cream cheese. They were all completely awful. Beyond awful. Way beyond awful.

I progressed through Elizabeth Kubler Ross's stages from denial (oh google, dear google, surely there has to be a deli around here somewhere) to depression (oy vey ist mere) before flirting with acceptance. But then I had a blinding revelation. I--yes me, Gina, the Undomestic Goddess--could make my own Jewish food. Somehow I would learn. And then I remembered that MovieMan (who was WorldTraveler this time last year) bought me a great Jewish Cookbook for Christmas.* Things were looking up.

As Mother's day approached, I thought about my mother and my grandmother and the line of Undomestic Goddesses I am descended from. I craved deli chicken soup with light fluffy matzo balls.

Surprisingly, I do know how to make chicken soup. When my mother was ill and dying from the lung cancer I made her a huge pot of chicken soup every week and she ate it all, even while struggling through chemo. But I didn't know how to make matzo balls. My friend Lisa (who is my cooking guru from across the country) assured me they were easy and with a bit of seltzer, they'd be light and delicate.

So . . . I started with the soup a day in advance. Onions, carrots, celery, lots of garlic, peppercorns, left over bits of chicken that I'd been holding in my freezer and a pack of cheap (but all natural) chicken legs from TJs.

Three hours later it was a rich broth.

I strained out the bones and wellcooked veggies and meat until it was clear, reserving the chicken fat (schmaltz) for my matzo balls.

The next day I decided to add noodles (in retrospect I wish I hadn't--they didn't really improve it), cooked up a carrot, and started to prepare my matzo meal into the stuff of memories.

I watched, I squeed, I made a little dance when I saw my matzo balls take on girth and look like, well, matzo balls!

And then the DH and I sat down for a lovely, nostalgic, hearty, comfort meal and I have another two quarts of the broth in the freezer.

___
* yes I realize this is a bit of an contradition, but we're Christmas-Jews in my family.

Happy Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Mon, 11 May 2009 05:30:00 +0000

Once upon a time I was a little girl and I had a mommy who loved me very much. She taught me to finger paint and use scissors. She laughed with me. She tied my shoes for me until I was big enough to do it myself. She taught me it was okay to be different, and that everyone was special in their own way.

She wasn't a domestic goddess. Her house was always coated with dust and dog hair. She didn't like to cook.

She was particularly fond of musical comedy, ice cream, and growing things in her garden.

Today I missed her a lot.

Today I Saw

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Wed, 06 May 2009 01:01:00 +0000

my very first missile shot up into the sky. It's an exciting perk of living near an airforce bace. I called it a rocket and the realtor laughed (we were looking at houses).

On the Road Today

noreply@blogger.com (Gina Black) — Wed, 29 Apr 2009 16:52:00 +0000

I often Tweet from the road and send pix so if you look over there ----------> to my Twitter Widget, there might be some pretty shots I took to share, especially since we are planning to picnic along the route.

I'm still soliciting suggestions anyone has relative to my last post on being an organized writer. I've been thinking about the comments so far and have realized that most of my disorganization started when I stopped writing on a desktop computer. Working at a dedicated writing space helped me funnel all my notes into one spot and I did keep a binder at that time which helped me to keep track of things. It seems that when I went portable, I started scattering things all over the place. Bu even if I'm a slob, there must be some good systems out there for people like me.

My goal is to get all my notes consolidated on my computer, so on today's ride I'm going to do just that with everything I've managed to find so far. Unfortunately, that doesn't help me locate the little notebook I filled with important notes that seems to have dropped off the face of the earth.