Breathlessly catching up...

Kind of. Between doing overtime at work, NaNoWriMo, and the resulting shoulder and back pain, I've kept my writing very limited. Gotta heal up before I jump back into writing again, and that includes my blogs. There is stuff I've written for my blogs prior to this, but I have to find the time to finish writing and upload them. Sigh. I'll back date them to their proper date-of-creation when I do, so they'll appear before this post.


Meanwhile, I have to get back to work.

Oh, one bit of news: the Grail anthology "A Chalice of Roses" (which includes my story, "Miss Templar and the Holy Grail," will be on the bookshelves the first week in January. So, if you want a fun wintertime Regency adventure, give it a try. It's one of my "kitchen sink" stories, where I had an assortment of random elements and gave myself the challenge of seeing whether I could incorporate them all. So: Regency (think Jane Austen/Georgette Heyer), Holy Grail, Ivanhoe, Sir Walter Scott, and "Where's Waldo."

I do love challenges like this. Tell me "you can't do that" in a story and chances are pretty good I'll think of a way I can.

I remember when someone told me "you can't put a vampire in a Regency romance." Oh, yeah.... Hee, hee, hee.

I've got the app

I have the iPod Touch--essentially the iPhone without the phone, and I do like my apps.  I just downloaded one today called "Note to God."  I thought to myself, it'd be good every once in a while as a reminder to say "hey" to the Big Guy every once in a while.

So I downloaded it, and decided I'd see what the format might be to write a note.

Dear heaven.  I never thought....well, it is very heartening and a very deeply emotional thing to read people's notes to God.  I am reminded of the Psalms, where the songs range from a despairing cry of the soul to joyous praise, from bargaining and promises to selfless giving.  There is every human emotion here.  And reading them, I know I'm very blessed indeed.

All I can say is God bless Allen Wright for submitting this app idea to the Medl Mobile Co, so that people could pray this way if they felt they couldn't any other way.  This is really yet another way to pray, and to have one's concerns lifted up and prayed for by others.

New Blog

So....I decided to create another blog called "Playing with Words," which will feature anything I decide to write that has to do with writing and publishing. I will probably transfer my writing entries from this blog to that one, just to have all my writing-related stuff in one place. That'll be my "official" blog, rather than the informal one I have here at the Pollyanna Files. I'll continue to write what I feel like here, but it'll be more about my travels (oh, yeah, I'm going to relocate to Germany next year--did I forget to mention that? If I did forget, more on that later), knitting/fiber arts, and foodie stuff. If you want to relax, read, and chat here, you're more than welcome. If you want to stick to writing- and publishing-related topics, go to "Playing with Words." Writing and publishing questions can be asked over there.

There now! I feel so organized....

Storytelling with sand

The video below is one of the most moving pieces of performance art I've ever seen. I saw this before I went to work this morning--a big mistake, because it ruined my makeup. At the end, I gave a big sigh, wiped away my tears, and smiled, shaking my head at how one young Ukrainian woman could evoke such emotion with sand.



It's set during 1945. You'll understand.

Guest blogging at Embrace the Shadows

I will be guest blogging tomorrow 9/25 at Embrace the Shadows: http://embracetheshadows.wordpress.com.

Come visit!

My husband's dream of art

Last night the hubby and I were discussing the church band and the music program in general there, and how lucky we were to have such an open and creative music program that encouraged people and kids to explore their musical abilities. The music director, Brian, has a true gift for encouraging kid's musical leanings and developing them into true talent. John, my hubby, is the "sound guy"--the one who hooks up and monitors the sound levels and quality of the singers and musicians. He feels like working the sound board is like playing an instrument. I sat there, thinking it over, and said, "what kind of instrument is it?" Because, after all, a sound board doesn't make any sound. It modifies other people's sound, but it doesn't have a sound of its own. John shook his head, thinking about it, but it was late then, and we went to bed.

The next morning, I went to the kitchen, and there on my place at the kitchen table was a piece of paper, with John's handwriting on it. It said:

"Art is commentary on our existance as incarnate beings." And,

"An instrument is any tool of artistic expression."

I nodded--it made sense--and folded up the piece of paper and stuck it in my pocket to take with me to work, so that I could think about it for a while. However, this idea seemed to seize John with a vengeance, and around noon, I got an e-mail about his thoughts on it all. Later he elaborated on it...well, I'll just let him say it in his own words:

Last night, over dinner, Karen and I were talking about how blessed we were by the praise music and musicians at FWUMC. Being a sound guy, I said that, for me, running the sound system is like playing an instrument. She asked "what kind of instrument is it?" I thought about it, but could not really say. I was stumped.

"I went to bed, and had a dream. In the dream, I was in the sanctuary of our church. It was dark and quiet. Then, a voice said "In the beginning was the word." The dream progressed through the days of creation, first with lights in the heavens, then water and earth, and so on. Images of creation appeared on the walls and ceiling, with sounds of water and animals. It appeared as a staged event , like a play. On the sixth day, the lights came up to reveal the praise band. They stood and sat like statues, holding instruments, but expressionless, without life. God then breathed life into them. They came alive, and together with the congregation began to sing and celebrate.

"From this, I had two revelations. The first, that we are incarnate beings, who know of and act within creation through our bodies. That art, in its most general sense, is the expression of our contemplations about our condition as incarnate beings. That this invisible thing we call our selves would manipulate light, sound, words, images, anything at all, though our bodies as a contemplation of our condition as spirits embedded within creation. Sure, we do other things, like walking, loving, helping, and fighting. But art is unique.

The second was this: That, in the context of art, an instrument is any tool we use for artistic expression. The first instrument is our bodies, but our expression may involve other things as well. What is the difference between a sound system and the lens of a camera? Neither is the thing it manipulates, yet are they not the tools of an artist? Or what of a drum or piano that makes no sound without the sound system? Are they not musical instruments? Finally, consider the music director. While he or she may play an instrument or sing, are those their only instruments of artistic expression? On the contrary, every musician in the band is also their instrument."

I thought about this--it made so much sense. And then I e-mailed him back with my thoughts on it:

And in the end, just as the musicians are the music director's instrument, so are we God's instruments. As instruments of God, we express His contemplation of His condition as a supreme being.

From spirit, through creation, to spirit.

Attack of the Swine Flu Zombies

So, the news is that the swine flu cases climbed to 2200 this last week at Washington State University. Two weeks ago it was just five confirmed cases. Some people can't believe it rose that high that quickly. I have two things for them to consider:

1. H1N1 virus is highly contagious
2. It escalated during Greek Rush Week.

Anyone who has any kind of experience with Greek Week will understand what I'm talking about. It consists of fraternity and sorority applicants running from one fraternity or sorority house to another all week, mingling in dense crowds of students in a frenzied rush (hence, "rush week"), trying to network with as many people and Greek houses as possible.

Also, the university Food Services is entirely staffed by students. While there are strict sanitary requirements for the Food Services staff, they nevertheless come in contact with thousands of students every day. A person with the flu is often infectious before he or she shows symptoms. Therefore, easy transmission in a dense population, often by people who don't even know they have the flu--yet.

Of course, as soon as I heard the flu had appeared on campus, I sent a care package to the Alien Child, consisting of hand sanitizing gel, a thermometer, ibuprofen, Tylenol, herbal teas (Traditional Medicinal's Breathe Easy and Organic Echinacea), a bar of homemade soap, and a list of first-aid items all households should have and that he should buy immediately, which I'm pretty sure he does not have, as he is in his 20s and therefore thinks he is invincible. I also enclosed a pair of jeans and homemade kosher pickles, not that including these particular items will keep him from disease, but it can't hurt.

Even if he doesn't get swine flu, perhaps his roommates or his girlfriend might, so it may all come in handy anyway. Also, it's not as if he hasn't intervened in more-than-I-feel-comfortable-with medical emergencies already in the course of his college career, and he should be prepared with some kind of first-aid kit. If he's going to keep going to people's rescue, he needs to have items at hand with which to rescue them.

The Alien Child assures me--with that youthful I-am-immortal attitude--that he's fine, and it's not a big deal, and he has some friends who got that flu (tested and confirmed) and who were sick just three days, max. Besides, he's healthy, eating right, and having a lot of fun working out in his karate class. But, thanks for the jeans and the pickles.

The hubby of course caught the news on the Internet and let me know about this freakish escalation of disease while we were watching a horror movie (anime--I don't recall the name, but it featured robotic sorcerers with humongous cannon-like machine guns against what looked like deformed and disease-ridden demons) on TV. This is not the best time to talk about swine flu, because the inevitable comes to mind:

ATTACK OF THE SWINE FLU ZOMBIES!

"I'm picturing thousands of disease-ridden WSU students, stumbling their way to class, moaning and groaning in the way zombies do--" he said.

"Oh, please," I said, as the anime robot-sorcerer blasted away at a quivering jelly-like demon. But the image stuck, because hey, anime horror movies do have their effect.

"Derek and Amanda, the last surviving healthy humans fleeing for their lives--"

A movie poster started forming in my mind.

"I can see the movie poster already," said the hubby (did I ever mention we have been married long enough to read each others' minds?). "There they are, standing heroically atop College Hill, looking down on the ravaging hordes of zombie students clawing their way up, Derek with his nunchucks in hand, and--"

"Amanda with her submachine gun," I said, casting her into the "kick-ass gal with gun" role. "Ready to level the zombie populace in a last race toward survival."

"Yep, exactly."

We finished watching the anime horror flick, which had a strangely philosophical element to it, strange no doubt only to us, as we started watching it half way through.

"You think we should tell them we have featured them in a zombie movie poster?" I asked.

"Sure, why not?" the hubby said. "They're the heroes in the zombie movie poster. They can't object to that."

I will shortly supply a link to this blog post to my son. (Wicked grin.)