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I thought the final drafts and final rewrites of pieces critiqued by two different writers groups in two different states, edited, reworked and rewritten over a time span of close to four years would be the easy part of finishing my Goat Suite Saga set of 7 vignettes. Never mind the larger project of Swimming with Swans: vignettes of our three year journey between homes set of at least 2xs that amount.
While I’ve stamped four of the seven vignettes as final, it’s this fifth one that’s got me up against the wall as mentioned in a previous post. It’s a good thing I took that quilt break as it helped refresh my writerly juices to get back in the game.
However, it seemed like I just wasn’t making any progress. So, the other day I decided to passively gather data on how long it’s taking to actually do specific rewrites. The numbers were kind of scary.
Let me explain.
There’s this one musically technical paragraph that I was told was confusing to non-musicians. However, I insist upon it staying as it’s important to the totality of that particular vignette. One paragraph, out of one vignette with an approximate word count of 2000 words took me over 12 hours to rework, reword, rewrite and stamp as final.
Waiting on the final studio mix of my lone recorded piece (out of four total) left to be mixed before sending all to the mastering lab has been frustrating. Yet, it gives me an excuse to focus on the written part of the GSS of which an abbreviated form will be featured in the cd insert booklet.
Never did I ever figure on spending so much time on one paragraph.
I tend to let loose with my color splashes in the fabric realm. Grabbing scraps and stitching them together with a rough nod to the log cabin process of construction is my usual modus operandi when in need of a creative break.
This time around my bottom line need to use up scraps in spontaneous quilted creations has been utilized in a very different way. I found a pattern (yikes, I haven’t used a pattern in years) that incorporated Charm Packs…and applied it for my personal use. I don’t own a single Charm Pack, but have plenty of 2½ inch strips of fabric from decades of projects that can be adapted for use in anything requiring 2½ x ? pieces. In this case, the pattern required 25, 5 inch square pieces of fabric cut in half…resulting in 2½ x 5 inch pieces to build a block as directed.
It’s been a long time since I colored within the lines. Continue reading
Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17
Last week hubby and I drove up to MI to celebrate my b-day watching the big screen 30th anniversary presentation of The Princess Bride with our middle daughter and son-in-law. Because it was showing on my real birthday date, it was like having a mini-family feast of words (we all know this movie by heart), laughter as well as food and table-talk.
The audience was an eclectic mix of elders (us), current parents of young children, 30-somethings (our kids gen), and college students…along with smatterings of other categorical diversity.
I was a bit concerned we as a family would be disruptive to those around us during certain favorite scenes…where we’d play act and/or get lost in wild guffaws.
For myself, I cracked up at the usual places: “Bye, bye, boys!” - “Mawage…a dweem within a dweem…”
Oh, don’t even get me started!
Thankfully this eclectic audience also had certain specific scenes that caused the same type of potentially disruptive explosive laughter. In that respect, we truly were in it together for the fun of it all.
Now we also went up to MI bearing gifts. We filled our Camry’s trunk with some special items gleaned from Dad’s estate and the finally finished Mother/Daughter Quilt Project.
My Michelle’s favorite color is no longer pink. She has grown up, become a confident, professional woman and married a fine young man. But our Mother-Daughter Quilt still speaks of the ties that bind: times past, present and future; the good times and the bad; what it means to love and be loved; forever and always…Amen.
Sometime around the end of August, beginning of September, my 4th blogiversary made an uneventful appearance.
It came and went.
Meh, life goes on.
(Evidenced by these few fall photos)
I’m noticing many blogger-buddies are entering into their own 4th and 5th years of regular posting; with plenty of re-decorating, re-purposing and de-cluttering of earlier website/blog incarnations. I say: Good for you, guys!
Me? I still can’t figure out how to update my 3.6 WP to 4.8.2 WP without losing precious data that’s supposed to be ‘forever’ on this ole internet superhighway. Case in point: just using that terminology shows how long I’ve been on-line. You know, back when it was only universities and ‘professionals’ that truly surfed the net along with doing all that research, networking and exchange of ideas/ideals. (remember the LuteList, anyone?) Continue reading
note: In light of unresolved disaster needs in Puerto Rico and the devastating shootings in Las Vegas, I have no words to write on those subjects…too overwhelming. I tend to express myself through musical phrases rather than sentences; poetry rather than prose.
Heartfelt condolences to all affected in both places.
RIP to both Tom Petty (fav rocker) & Red Miller (creator of the Broncos Orange Crush that took us to our first Super Bowl with quarterback Craig Morton – remembered with fondness)
Seems like 2017 has a backlog of compositions in various stages of emergence; here is a recent poem on the beauty felt during a more glorious occasion, as promised.
Totality: South Carolina 2017
poem by Laura Bruno Lilly
A seed knows how to wait.
Most seeds wait for at least a year before starting to grow; a cherry seed can wait for a hundred years with no problem. What exactly each seed is waiting for is known only to that seed…
A seed is alive while it waits.
Every acorn on the ground is just as alive as the three-hundred-year-old oak tree that towers over it…they are both just waiting…the seed is waiting to flourish while the tree is only waiting to die.
When you are in the forest, for every tree that you see, there are at least a hundred trees waiting in the soil, alive and fervently wishing to be.
Each beginning is the end of a waiting.
We are each given exactly one chance to be. Each of us is both impossible and inevitable. Every replete tree was first a seed that waited.
From: Lab Girl, by Hope Jahren
In these days before Irma’s impending impact upon this evacuation city of Florence, South Carolina, I have been overly sensitive to the fact that we will not be here during her arrival. Instead, we will be ‘going through Irma’ while driving on-the-road to Colorado.
Already this town’s hotel rooms are filling up with evacuees from Florida, leaving less space available for later local evacuees coming from areas such as Myrtle Beach.
Irma is a very real threat, especially in light of Harvey’s tirade. Residents here are keenly aware of the dangers ahead. Yet our own prepping for it involves continuing with our travel plans. A form of voluntary evacuation, if you will – though hardly intended as such. Also as of this writing a new twist has been added to the mix: a resemblance to this area’s worst hurricane on record, that of Hugo in 1989. Hugo landed inland and did his damage as if the midlands of the Pee Dee were the Carolina coastal lowlands. Continue reading