Only Child

I’m beginning to see the value in having been an only child for the first five years of my life. I learned how to entertain myself.

I’m no longer an only child, but as an adult, although I live by myself, I’m never lonely. If I’m bored, or have extra time on my hands, I pull out my box of collage materials (discreetly ripped from magazines at the laundromat, or waiting rooms, or used calendars, or old greeting cards—there’s no end, really, to the sources of art).

I’d just finished trimming into a neat rectangle a piece of Victoriana from a magazine, all in shades of pink and peach, with roses, antique teapot and cups, lace—you know, real girly stuff.

I remembered a friend who used to refer to herself as a “bull in a china shop,” due to her ample size and questionable coordination.

A grin spread across my face as I dug deeper into the box and extracted just the right clipping—a little brown mouse in a crash helmet—and glued it to the background of delicate breakables. That was good for several minutes of chuckles. Actually, it still makes me smile, and it’s days later.

Keepin’ Those Plates in the Air

It’s January already, and I’m feeling the pressure of writing a new blog entry when my mind is in a zillion different places. A friend sent this picture of the beautiful area we live in here in California. It reminds me of Part 2 of my novel, Best Laid Plans(see Nov. 10, 2011 post), that I’ll be publishing this year—the setting is on two acres of unproductive vineyard land. Imagine you’re on another hill in front of this picture looking down. Great location for a recovery house for female ex-felons, right? How could a bunch of creepy things happen in such a beautiful place? Stay tuned.

So, that’s one excuse for not attending to the blog more regularly—I’m waiting for the edits on Part 2, and working with a cover artist to capture just the right imagery for a cozy mystery that doesn’t want to take itself too very seriously. We’re awfully, awfully close.

Excuse No. 2 is pulling together a band to perform my metaphysical blues piece, Start Where You Are Today, which will be performed in concert March 17. It’s thrilling to hear a bunch of notes I’ve put on a page, along with some lyrics underneath, transform themselves into a real song with the help of some amazingly talented musicians. I get all kid-in-candy-shop excited listening to them grapple with chord progressions and rhythm shifts.

And then, there’s learning new music for choir, staying in touch with friends and family, spending time with the greatest little grandtwins in the world. . .oh, yeah, and work—we can’t forget work.

One day soon, I’ll get back on track. Until then, please follow whatever creative inspiration speaks to you. I can’t think of a better use of time.