Another Night Shot & Sibling Evilness

Below is a photo taken by my niece, age 10, of the fountain by "Old Main", the original building on the University of Arizona campus at Tucson. We were leaving the graduation festivities, but "the fountain was just so pretty, and kinda neat," so she had to take a picture. (Click on the picture to enlarge, and get a better view.)

(c. May 2008, JE, fountain in front of Old Main, UA campus, Tucson, Arizona)

* * *

I'm dealing with allergy crap, so the nose is runny or stopped up -- it's fickle -- and this morning the nose is prone to snot. My brother, being of a "helpful" nature, offered a Kleenex. He waved it in my face. Pulled it back. Laughed. Asked if that was torture. Said torture was in The Sibling Handbook. I snagged the darn thing and blew my nose.

Then the two nieces were playing: Laughing, Big Sis (10) whirled in circles, and Little Sis (almost 1) tried to keep up. Perhaps Big Sis has been reading The Sibling Handbook.I think her dad wrote it.

Night Shots

My brother and I have just returned from taking photos at night. We were out for about an hour, leaving some time after 9:00 p.m. and returning to the car at 10:30 p.m. The moon was full, the sky clear, the temperature 85 degrees -- perfect weather, perfect light. Unfortunately, not-so-perfect camera.

However, we still came back with some great shots. Once we downloaded the results on the computer, we ended up deleting about a third of the pictures, but here are a couple shots we kept:

(c. May 2008, SE, bridge on Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Tucson, Arizona)

(c. May 2008, KB, moon over Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, Tucson, Arizona)

The Way of the (Sleepy) Warrior

Last night, we attended my brother's informal graduation event, and endured lack of seating, too little air conditioning, a long program, and skimpy "meal" so we wouldn't have to drag ourselves from bed early today, forge our way through Tucson traffic, and push through the advancing hordes of other graduation attendees just to sit in more heat while waiting to watch my brother (who would be even more uncomfortable in cap and gown) stand up and be recognized by strangers.

That's all well and good, I suppose--the recognition of strangers--but he already knows what he's accomplished. Does he need the dean to tell him, too, so he can feel good about himself?

Oh. Did that sound cranky? I'll blame it on the lack of a nap.

Speaking of naps, half the family has been napping on top of napping. All the festivities last night have sapped our fighting strength. After all, how many hors d'ourve can a warrior clan consume before losing their fighting edge?

We do have a collection of fight songs, though. Ever hear of Sandra Boynton? She writes and illustrates children's books. She also has a few musical volumes accompanied by CDs: Dog Train and Philadelphia Chickens are the two we listened to this morning, after the first round of naps was completed.

Then it was another napping shift, with only a few of us remaining alert enough to stand sentry.

Now, as the troops slowly reawaken, we are preparing for the standard fare of any warriors worthy of the name: grilled meat. Red meat. Charcoal and fire. Secret marinade. Nifty barbecuing tools. Although stabbing a steak with a really sharp sword and sticking it over an open flame would work just as well.

Tucson

Here, safe and sound, and tired. And voiceless. More later.

The Adventure Begins

Early tomorrow morning, my mom and I head out for Arizona. I'll be computerless for at least the first twenty-four hours, maybe more.

Since I no longer have a camera of my own, I've been using the camera from work, but that's not possible this trip, since I'll be gone too many days. Therefore, I can't promise any pictures.

My truck being the gas-guzzler, we're traveling in Mom's newer, sportier, and shinier little car. While I'm gone, the truck will sit stolidly in the driveway, and hopefully give would-be intruders the idea that I'm still home.

Now, I'm heading to the store for a few travel items, and then home to finish packing. Yippy-skippy.

(image courtesy of www.tucson-luxury-homes.com)

Swapping Tales

So, my friend Jade and I have been exchanging stories for years, ever since college. 

There was a long while when we stopped trading critiques--the writers and the stories were too immature to handle them--but we're grownups now, and we've developed thicker skins. I've even developed a part-time job based on editing and critiquing other writers' manuscripts. I most enjoy working with writers who check their egos at the door: they are out to improve their work, not to hear pretty compliments. Yeah, we all like to hear nice things about our babies, but if those nice things don't help our writing, what's the point?

Anyway, back to trading stories: Jade and I have been stretching our writing muscles, venturing into fictional territory we've never explored before. She recently wrote a short story about a vampire hunter. I thought it quite good; she's struggling with a re-write.  (She sees flaws I don't see. My uncle was like that. An artist, he could always see the mistakes, but the rest of us were blown away by the images he presented.)

I only read a short story, but she's reading an entire novel, passing along comments on a few chapters at a time. It's cool whenever she asks a question I know I've answered later in the text, or she gets a small joke I've tossed in, or she wants to know more about a character. That means I'm doing my job. She also points out inconsistencies or gaps in the information, and that is (to me) more valuable than the other remarks; by calling my attention to the problems, she helps me fix them.

I traded another story with Eamon. He sent along the first three chapters of his children's science fiction tale; I sent the space pirates. He has created some interesting characters and an intriguing history/backstory that I want to explore further. (hint, hint, ahem) He also gave permission for the story to be read to the kids at the youth organization where I work. Talk about instant feedback! Kids will be honest every time. I predict they'll want to read more.

*     *     *

Tomorrow's Story Time, we will finish Coraline by Neil Gaiman, a scary little tale that has them enthralled. I think they like it when I "do the voices" and pace back and forth in front of the group. It was really cool when one boy said, about two years ago, "It's just like going to the movies, only better, 'cause you can see things for yourself."

Hey, if I have to wave my arms and make faces and talk in really bad accents, I'll do it, if it gets kids interested in reading for themselves.

Our annual literacy program, Reading Quest, had its most successful year in 2008. From January 1 to May 9, the children turned in 467 books. Amazing. Last year, we didn't even make it to our goal, and this year we blew out the record (set in 2006) by more than 100 books. Tuesday afternoon, we had a pizza party, handed out certificates and awards, and drew names for other prizes. A fun time for all.

Droopy-Eyed Tuesday

I was up late last night/early this morning, cleaning up the house a bit before my trip later this week. 

In my experience, most single folk, male or female, probably don't do much housework unless they're down to the last pair of underwear, the last clean fork, or the last scrap of space on the couch or the dining table. I do housework under pressure: when company's coming over, when the spiderwebs in the corners are gathering dust, when I'm working off anger or an excess of caffeine, or when--as now--I don't want to return from a trip and be faced with a cluttered house musty from being closed up for several days.

So, last night, when I typed a blog post stating that I'd be up for a few hours, I wasn't surprised when the phone rang near 2:00 a.m.

I didn't even say hi, but asked if this was my little brother. Laughing, he said, "Yes, it is," and admitted to having just read my blog. I called him evil, and we hung out on the phone till about 4:00 a.m. 

I'm going to be in Tucson in a few days, but that's not an issue; he and I can usually find something to mock, laugh about, or discuss deeply. Not deep issues, just deep discussion. (laugh)