Fall Contests

This week I've sent half a dozen poems to the ASPS Fall contests, and a couple to the Aesthetica Magazine contest. So maybe I'll get a prize or two.

The ASPS fall meeting will be held in Calera, Alabama. I think we've met there before. Anyway, I hope to feel like going to the luncheon/award meeting.
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I also entered a contest sponsored by Negative Capability Press.

Have Rocket, Will Travel

Last night I watched a Stooges movie. It was good until they returned to earth from Venus, even though Uni the unicorn came with them. Back on earth it became boring again. At least I learned the Stooges' names: Moe Howard, Larry Fine, and Curly Joe DeRita who was the last in a long list of replacements for the original Schemp Howard as the third Stooge. Overall, a good show.

Now I can cook--If I can lift the thing!

I finally got around to cleaning and seasoning my old iron skillet. Did a pretty good job, but I'll probably bake it some more before using it, because it's still kinda sticky.

Feeling good today, and it's a good thing, because there's a lot to be done around the house. Hope everybody has a good sunshiny day!

Page 295*

Mr. Norrell has given Mr. Strange a book! It's only the biography of a Mr. Tott, an obscure non-practicing magician who never wrote his own book on the subject. Probably no mention of the Raven King.

*Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke - I've been reading a few pages of this book, at random times, for two or three years now. Approximately 700 pages to go.
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This afternoon I bought groceries, and when I got home, I sat in my car thinking, "I don't think I can get myself up those stairs, let alone a bunch of grocery bags."

Then I said, "Come on, you did ten push-ups yesterday." Of course, they were knee-pushups instead of toe-pushups, but the thought gave me the push I needed to get me and most of the groceries up the stairs.

Great Sunday

Yesterday I went to the Presbyterian church with my sweet sisters, and there were Joan and Frank, Ellen, Doris, Spurgeon, several other people I knew, and a whole bunch of friendly strangers. They were having a farewell party for their young pastor, his wife and two adorable babies. There was so much food, I couldn't even sample all of it.

Now I've got the phone on speaker, waiting for UAB to answer, to clarify my prep instructions for the test tomorrow. I keep telling myself it will be over tomorrow afternoon, so I can wait a day or so to think about committing Harry Carey.

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George Romney is one of my favorite portrait painters, and "Miss Juliana Willoughby" is my favorite of his paintings. (This is listed in the National Gallery free images.)

Progress

Not quite 9 a.m., and I've already accomplished several things. I've decided to turn the story I've been working on into a novel, and spent some time this morning doing some research. Have one notebook for research, and will probably fill up that and another one with notes and stuff I've already done for the story. I've thought about calling it "Grendel's Children," but that's a joke. So I'm going to try to spend my time working on this. I think I've done enough reading my poems to a group, and reading stuff chosen by someone else and trying to find something polite to say about it. I'm not talking about the books Jed and I both read and share, but about the book club.

I've found some good friends through the book club, but as far as the group goes, they don't read the kind of writing that I read.


Yesterday after the meeting, Joan took me into the nave of the Presbyterian church. It is small, but very beautiful. She showed Nell and me their organ, and played a hymn that almost sent me into a trance. She also told us some of the history of the church. I value Joan and Frank, and somehow, especially, Carole, although she hardly ever says anything. Maybe that's one of the things I like about her. I think I gave her the Indian Hatchet quilt that I made ten years or so ago. I miss Jean M., Mable, and Betty W.

Although Betty called Muslims "Muslins," she at least chose and read good books, especially Shantaram. Mable and Jean also read a lot. Jean read classics and knew a whole lot of good stuff.

Anyway, I intend to "endeavor to persevere" with this novel business until I have something complete. Remaining time allowing.

Activities

Yesterday I watched "Dances with Wolves." As with a few other films, while I'm watching it, I think "this is the best movie I've ever seen in my life." And Kevin Costner is the "handsomest movie star ever."

Today I'm reading Miss Jane for the book club meeting tomorrow. Troublesome book, hard to read, but worthwhile.

Get Along, Little Doggies

On National Dog Day, I received a response to my adoption application. It said that the two dogs I was interested in were no longer available, so I've been sulking. I looked on the website again, and both dogs were still listed, with the note that nobody was yet interested in them. I guess I'm Nobody; so at least they acknowledged me with a note. To quote one of my favorite authors, "It just goes to show you."

I have to go to TKC next week for another humiliating test. They finally found one I haven't had before. I'm sure that took some effort.

We have book club meeting Thursday (Sept. 8) at the beautiful Presbyterian church. Pat's going to bring me the book today.

Going To the Dogs

This morning I spent 15 minutes walking around the yard and under the trees, before my back started complaining. I'll try to increase the exercise time every day, in preparation for walking my dog, if I ever succeed in getting her from the Pet Finder agency.

I sent in the adoption application a week ago today, but haven't heard anything from it. J.J. is an 8-year-old beagle/corgi mix, being fostered somewhere in Bibb County, best I could gather from the Pet Finder. I was looking for a larger dog but just couldn't resist these photos of her.


I almost fell for the dog shown below, but a one-year-old dog with his tongue hanging out is bound to be hyperactive and sort of wild. They're calling him "Uncle John." If he were mine, I would call him "Spats."

Too Much Is Enough?

I've read a little more than half of A Prayer for Owen Meany. The spectre of 300 more pages is daunting to me. Maybe I'll save it for another burst of reading energy. Owen was captivating as a child, but the older he gets, the more predictable.

Something has messed up my "Pictures" album. I have to go halfway around the world to get to the actual pictures, and then they're just words until I retrieve them. Or something.

I'm just tired. I had such a terrible dream night-before-last that I haven't slept much since about four o'clock yesterday morning. And spending that time reading "Owen Meany" hasn't helped the weirdness much.

On Becoming One's Mother

I used to feel (but not express) a little annoyance at my mother for walking so slowly in her 80's. Hah! I hope she was up there watching yesterday when I went to Walmart for prescriptions that were delayed for medical approval.

I shuffled around, found an uncrowded aisle and stopped, slumped over my shopping cart, and tried to breathe and wipe my hair out of my eyes. I heard someone laughing behind me, turned, and saw a woman about my age slumped against a counter, looking at me and cackling with laughter.

"This must be the rest stop," she said. "Do you think we can make it any farther?"

I laughed too, and said, "Why, I can walk several steps at a time before I have to stop."

After we exchanged a few quips and further laughter, I said, "But really, do you need any help?"

At that, she laughed harder, and said, "What would you do if I said yes?"

"Well, maybe I could call somebody."

She said, "Do you need any help?"

"Naw," I said, "I'm cool," and continued on my snail-paced way.

Rough Weekend

Man, I've had one! From the middle of Friday night until sometime this morning, I was thinking maybe it was time to buy the farm. Severe abdominal pain, bad enough to make me moan and groan while stifling screams. I called the doctor's office yesterday, but both Onae and Dr. G. were off this week on vacation. The covering doctor said go to a treatment clinic over on the Southside for "further evaluation," but I decided to wait one more day.

So this afternoon I found I had enough energy to take a shower and wash my straggly hair.

Yesterday, Pat picked up my prescriptions for me from Walmart, and brought some cottage cheese and canned pears, plus a big bottle of Sprite and a bag of spearmint Lifesavers, which is what I've eaten ever since plus a can of chicken noodle soup. I think the mints did the most to settle my stomach. Seems like I might have had a touch of food poisoning--I blame some chicken legs of which I had made a sort of barbecue mess. I turned nauseated while trying to eat it Friday, and later poured the whole megilla down the disposer, except for the bones.

I just watched a good blood-and-guts movie starring John Travolta. 1999, I think it was made. "The General's Daughter."

Missed the book club meeting this morning, because I wasn't sure the nightmare was over. I still have a little pain, but not enough to make me holler.

Great Movie

I just watched "Legends of the Fall" (1994) again. If I had to name 100 best movies, this would be in the top ten.

Yum!

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At poetry meeting, my poem was over-praised, as usual. Maybe it's because I'm the antique relic and they feel sorry for me. Or maybe my poems are pretty good, after all. Either way, it makes me feel strange.

Still Here

After sleeping 12 hours without twitching, I spent half the day trying to wake up. Then I decided if I took a shower, maybe I would come alive. So after the shower, I went to the grocery, and now I think I'll go to the poetry meet after all.
Gonna take my Conrad Aiken poem, based on his "Beloved, let us once more praise the rain," one of the finest poems in any language that I know. Which includes English, a dead language.

Jesus, Lover of My Soul

Jesus, lover of my soul,
Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high.
Hide me, O my Savior, hide,
Till the storm of life is past;
Safe into the haven guide;
Oh, receive my soul at last. . . .


Charles Wesley

Inspiration

This is a page from an old quilt magazine. It's where I got the idea for the little basket quilt. I think I still lived in the Southside apartment when I started my quilt scrapbook. I've made a few quilts based on saved pictures and patterns.

Book Club Tuesday

All seven members of the book club met at Ramey's yesterday. We enjoyed a delicious lunch, and then discussed E.M. Forster's book A Room With a View, and the delightful 1985 movie based on the book.


This morning I put the makings of chicken and dumplings in the crock pot, and will add a little can of LeSeur peas. So for dinner this evening I'll have a good meal, including a fruit salad. I'm counting every calorie, so I'll have leftovers to go into the freezer.

New Quilt, I hope

These blocks are four-and-a-half inches square, plus quarter-inch seam allowances. If I make a miniature quilt, maybe I can finish it this year. But a full-size one will take much longer.


I cut out all the pieces for a full-size quilt, several years ago, and sewed together the light-colored block. Each square in the box holds pieces for 3-4 blocks.

I want a brown-and-white quilt for my bedroom, and I hope this will be the one.

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Over the past week, I've watched all 6 re-run episodes of "The Night Manager," plus the Saturday night replays of the first 3 episodes of "Poldark."

Stars and Strikes

Jed came down Sunday. We really didn't have any great plans; ate at Cracker Barrel Sunday evening. I celebrated(?) the Fourth of July with a terribly messed up digestive system, so we didn't do much then, either, except watching some movies and old TV series. Jed celebrated by fixing everything around the house from the closet door in the "reading room" to trying to plumb the kitchen faucet. He went back to Atlanta today.

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One of my favorite hymns sings in my mind:

My Faith Looks Up to Thee

Ray Palmer (1808–1887)

My faith looks up to thee, Thou Lamb of Calvary,   Saviour divine! Now hear me while I pray, Take all my guilt away,         5 O let me from this day   Be wholly thine!   May thy rich grace impart Strength to my fainting heart   My zeal inspire!         10 As thou hast died for me, O may my love to thee Pure, warm, and changeless be,—   A living fire!   While life’s dark maze I tread,         15 And griefs around me spread,   Be thou my guide; Bid darkness turn to day, Wipe sorrow’s tears away, Nor let me ever stray         20   From thee aside.   When ends life’s transient dream, When death’s cold, sullen stream   Shall o’er me roll, Blest Saviour, then, in love,         25 Fear and distrust remove! O bear me safe above,—   A ransomed soul!